Sending small children to the ER. That's what uncles are good for.

Lowell to Ben: "Hey, if you swallow the cherry pits you'll grow faster."

Ben: "Really?!"

Laura: "LOWELL!!"

This is not a paid advertisement.

I love Home Depot.

No, really. I'm serious, people.

I love looking at the awesome lights - rows and rows of them! - the sleek sinks, the windows, the flower pots, the gorgeous paint colors, (all tastefully presented for you to admire,) and just... the everything. Because Home Depot has almost everything you can imagine of that ilk. (Except for the particular hanging basket I need, but it's okay. I forgive them.)

And the employees. I adore them.

They're so patient, so interested, so earnestly helpful. It makes me want to work there, just so I can be wonderful along side them! (only, I know zero about building. that might be a leetle problem.)

They don't look at me like I'm stupid and ignorant and totally wasting their time with my questions. Unlike some store's employees. (yes, i'm looking at you, office max. just because i identify the ink cartridge i need by the picture on the front and get thrown for a loop when you go and change the picture on me, doesn't mean you have to look down your more-than-ample nose at me.)

Plus, the smell. Be still my beating heart. I purposefully wander around near the lumber section, not because I need anything connected with lumber, but because the smell of freshly sawed wood makes my whole body twitch with happiness. And it makes me think of stalking Daddy while he was doing a project, of him with his worn, bulging tool belt and his ability to fix or build anything. Literally. If he didn't know, he figured a new way out.



"Can I help you with anything, ma'am?"
"No, I'm just enjoying the smell of the wood."
"I completely understand. Let me know if you decide you need anything, and enjoy yourself!"

Definitely my kind of store.

ouch.

"IF, the moment I am conscious of the shadow of self crossing my threshold, I do not shut the door, and in the power of Him who works in us to will and to do, keep that door shut, then I know nothing of Calvary love." -amy carmichael



When I read this particular "if" this morning, for the first time in a long time, it pricked my heart, to say the least. So often I find that the shadow of self isn't what I have to fight against. Self itself, in all its strength, waltzes over my threshold and dances a polka in the living room of my heart. Ever experienced that?

And often it comes in when I'm least expecting it. But sometimes, I know when it's about to knock at the door. I can hear its footsteps approaching, as it were, and you know what? Much to my shame, I often go deliberately and open the door for it, inviting it in and doing nothing to try and hinder its residence.

As I think honestly about this, it makes me want to despair. What hope is there for a girl who makes self feel very much at home in a heart that should be wholly given over to Christ?

Thankfully, not only the problem but the solution is given in this short If. In the power of Him who works in me to will and to do, I can keep that door shut. It IS possible. It is what I MUST do. But, thank the Lord, it isn't something I must do alone.

Do you believe that?


Buy the book here. It's worth every penny.

Precocious. Enthusiastic. Energetic. Charming. Bossy.

Charlie is almost exactly like I was at her age. It's a bit terrifying, actually.

And her favorite thing to do is something I did for, oh, years and years - narrating her life. Every move she makes, every step she takes, fits into the grand Charlie Story.

For instance:

"And then Charlie bounced across the hilltop to join her friends, KK and Marmee. Charlie hugged them both and said 'Aren't you glad I'm here?'"


Yes, Charlie. We are.

"Then she ran into the other room and left them all alone. Charlie could hear them saying, 'Come back! Come back!' but she stayed away."

"Then she ran back in. 'Charlie's back!' she said. KK was sooo happy to see her!"


Yes, m'love, I am. It's like seeing myself again in the most fun years of all.

(Seriously, do y'all know how much fun it is to play under the table? I had just about forgotten the pure excitement of hiding from lions while squeezed in between rows of chairs.)

A reminder to look to Jesus

"You need the blood of Jesus as much now as at the first. You never can stand before God in yourself. You must go again and again to be washed; even on your dying bed you must hide under Jehovah our Righteousness. You must also lean upon Jesus. He alone can overcome in you. Keep nearer and nearer every day."
- taken from a sermon of Robert Murray M'Cheyne

Big Things.

Okay.

Wow. It's been a while since I've really, truly written something here because... I've been scribbling and scratching all my thoughts and ramblings in letters or my journal, (gasp: I'm keeping a journal these days for the first time since I don't even want to think about when,) and the past couple of months have involved a significant bit of filling out applications, (thank you, college, for requiring so much of my brain power prior to admittance,) and writing stupid resumes about myself, (duh, Katie. What else would they be about?) for said college applications and ... other applications.

And yes, Mama, I have been sleeping late too. I like to think of these months as the Last Semester Containing The Freedom To Sleep Late. Or the LSCTFTSL. Whichever you prefer.

And I've been reading. And exercising. (shocking, I know.) Making resolutions. Reading through the Bible chronologically. Getting Red Cross training. (It was quite an experience, let me tell you.) Writing letters again, which feels good. I love mail, whether I'm sending or receiving. There's just something about a nice, plump envelope, preferably sealed with sealing wax, and a trifle battered around the edges after being put through who-knows-what in the multiple post offices of the world.

In other words, i've been Living Life. Not perfectly... in fact, so far from perfectly I don't even like to think about the lack of perfection.



And now for the News. (That was just the introduction, in case you were wondering.)

Most of you know by now, (this is one of those RARE cases when info goes onto the computer after it's communicated by actually speaking,) that I've been applying to work in an AIDS orphanage in Ethiopia. Today, I was accepted, (as long as my FBI background check comes back clear - which, um, it definitely should,) and so Lord willing I'll be moving to Ethiopia April-ish and coming home late July-ish. (The dates are still tentative.)

The reality of this hasn't totally sunk in yet. I've been carefully keeping myself from getting too excited or too nervous, making myself remember that it was so not a done deal. Now, it kinda is.

And I'm excited.

And a wee bit terrified.

There's so much going on in my mind and my heart about this whole thing - about how God led me to this when I really was NOT expecting to be led here, how He's opened door after door for me, how my family has encouraged me, prayed for me, not freaked out at all that I'm going to a third world country by myself, how my heart is already so in love with and so burdened for the children I will be with, (they're all HIV positive,) - and above all, how it all comes back to Christ's faithfulness.

Through the working towards this, the waiting, (that was definitely the hardest part, mostly because I expected the wait to be much longer than it was,) and the uncertainty about what exactly the next few months will hold, (all I really know is: they'll be different from anything I've ever lived before!) Christ has been my Friend, my Helper. He has given me the grace to trust Him, to rest in Him, and oh, how sweet it is to dwell in the shadow of the Most High!



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This is a very broad overview of what all is going on, and you'll hear much more in bits and snippets through out the next weeks and months, but I wanted to tell everyone a little about it, because 1. everyone will know eventually, so they might as well hear it here, and 2. please pray for me. I need prayer right now, I will need prayer every step of the way. I can't tell you how much it means to know that I have friends who love me enough to faithfully bring me before our Father's throne.

Her priorities are... a wee bit crooked.

While watching Jaws with Eleanor and Julia:

A little boy prepares to go into the ocean. The ominous music begins. We catch a glimpse of The Fin. His mother tells him she'll see him in ten minutes. (Yeah, right.)

Just as he's joyfully rushing into the surf... towards his unavoidable doom... a dog runs into the water.



And Eleanor says,

"OH NO! The poor doggy is gonna get eaten!!"




The dog, Ellie? We're worried about the dog here?

I do too, Isaiah. I do too.

Yesterday, Isaiah ran up and pointed to a picture of Daddy, saying

"I want Papa to come see me at my house! And then come to Marmee's house!"

An Expotition.

According to my mamaw--and affirmed by mama, (who assures me that she picked cotton in close proximity to it)-- there's an old, abandoned cemetery behind our neighborhood cat lady's house. Mrs. Cat-lady claims it's impossible to get to, because of all the thorn bushes, but Courtney and I braved the cold and the thorns yesterday in search of said cemetery, because apparently I have a relative buried there whose name is Alfred Smith. And I want to see Alfred's grave. (Incidentally, I won't be passing on that family name to any of my sons.)

It was impossible to get to, not because of the thorns, but because we couldn't find it. Yeah. That's a downer for you, especially since we had waded through many wicked patches of brambles and briars and my thighs were bleeding and stinging like crazy and my socks were full of prickly things.

Therefore, we decided to return not the way from whence we came, in hopes of stumbling over some adventure that would make the afternoon worthwhile. There's a section of about ten or fifteen fields grouped together and separated by fences and a nice, impenetrable gnarl of brambles and small trees, and we were on the opposite corner of this section from where we needed to be, in a field hemmed in by a deep gully.

We headed in the general direction of home, but eventually the realization sunk in that we were either gonna have to cross the gully, (which had really steep, brush-covered sides and was filled with murky, stagnant water, by the way,) or go all the way to the road and go home the long way. You can imagine that we didn't pick the long way. 'Cause I'm all about saving steps for more important things, like walking in the kitchen to make the fourth pot of hot tea in one day.

We discovered a way across the gully that seemed two ounces less covered in undergrowth than the rest of the bank, and our descent began. Believe me, you wish there had been a video camera. A true highlight of the day was when I was precariously suspended over the water, clutching a none-too-strong vine and trying to keep my footing in Crocs on the very muddy bank, and my phone rang. Yes, I know. And since it was my violin student who was supposed to be at my house in twenty minutes, I had to answer and hear all about her Christmas and the clumsy men who were putting in windows at her house, all while Courtney stood calmly above me, saying, "That vine isn't very sturdy, you know. I think that vine is slipping."

Yes, thank you, Courtney. Very helpful.

After we were safely across the gully, (without getting a drop of murky water on us; who's proud of us??) and Courtney got a hand full of scratches because she felt left out that my thigh got some scratches and her's didn't, (yes, I'm being sarcastic,) we tramped through four more fields, one of which had overgrown hay literally up to our noses, (my socks were solid brown with fuzz when we got through that,) explored around an abandoned, falling-in wooden house, went over a suspiciously green swathe of grass, ("why is that grass so green?" "oh, because we're ankle deep in mud now, maybe that's why,") climbed over more barbed wire fences than I care to remember, (without a single cut, mind you,) and clambered over a rusty gate, we arrived at home, windblown and cold, with nothing to show for our adventure except some nasty scratches and a bunch of memories.

It was worth it.