glittery idols

January 30, 2007

I wish God would fight for my attention.

The world feels like Vegas. Lights. Noises with a base you can feel in your bones. Like a 4-year-old at the swimming pool vying for his mother’s attention. “Watch me! Watch me!”

I’m thinking about this tonight as I read Acts 7 and thinking about idols.

In biblical days, idols were flashy. Usually birthed of gold. Glittery in the sun. Ornate and overdone.

What a contrast to the tabernacle – beautiful and glorious, but called a “tent shrine” here in the Message.

But I shouldn’t be surprised. This seems to be God’s way. He’s not off for show. He doesn’t fight for my attention like a beggar. He beckons me like a Prince. He’s sure of Himself and doesn’t have to play games.

Every day I choose.

Glittery idol: being well-liked, entitlement, being right, harbored sin, position, money




January 29, 2007

Lisa, in blue, surrounded my beloved friends last year on her bday. (Before the days of Runzas.)

Last night at 3 a.m. I woke up in a cold sweat.

How could I have blogged on sweet Lisa’s birthday and chose an image of a Runza instead of an image of her? What kind of friend am I?

The kind that makes amends.

And the kind that brought her camera to Lisa’s house last night and took no pictures.

So the next best thing is displaying – for all to see…or, perhaps, the 23 of you (or so my blogstats tell me) – a photo of our Lisa-celebration last year.

All these cute moms and me (sans kiddos) dined on a Thai lunch, Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory overpriced dipped strawberries, and a big ‘ol sale at Kohl’s.


January 28, 2007


Nothing says happy birthday like a homemade Runza.

A Runza is the famous (ok, or at least we Nebraskans think so) German-inspired…um…pocket of goodness.

My friend, Lisa, had never experienced one, so I told her I’d bring make ’em and bring birthday dinner to her and her menfolk.

I never knew how many dishes we had until I pretty much dirtied every one!

And, if I may say so, they turned out pretty good! Ronnie, her sophomore, ate three. Yum.

turn your eyes

January 25, 2007

One of my favorite hymns is Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus. Vicky Beeching gives it a new-sound spin. Love it.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Look full at His wonderful face

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.”

Here’s to living this next moment with Jesus eclipsing whatever around me has been shining so brightly.

a book not to carry with you

January 24, 2007

Amazon just sent me a list of books they think I’d be interested in based upon past purchases.

What are they trying to say with recommending this book? I’d crown it with the award for the longest book title…and the one you don’t want to be caught carrying. Everyone who sees you will think, Am I the reason she’s reading that?

first in line

January 23, 2007

There was no tape to break with chest-out pride. (Oh how I wished there had been; we all know I’m never running a marathon. This might have been my lone opportunity.)

I was the first customer at the grand opening of Subway at Moss Park and Narcoossee.

The funny thing was I had no idea today was the big day. I would’ve worn something more festive. Maybe something teal.

They gave Virginia and I free sodas. But my sandwich – their first sandwich made with such careĀ  – wasn’t free. What?

  • 6 inch turkey on wheat with the works minus pickles plus banana peppers: $3.84
  • being first in line, immortalized on a giddy employee’s camera: priceless

inspired to rest: gramp’s legacy

January 21, 2007

Today would have been Gramp’s 90th birthday. Tonight, with a Starbuck’s tall latte in hand, I pondered what I most missed. And I had an a-ha.

Gramp never rushed.

My clearest memories of him involve activities that displayed his at-ease-ness: gardening, long roadtrips, playing backgammon with me, drying dishes at the sink, playing a duet with me on their organ.

How did I never stop to realize that about him? Maybe it’s because I don’t often stop. Or even take my foot off the pedal to coast.

Oh, Gramp, thanks for the gift you gave me, today, on your birthday. A reverse gift of sorts. Thanks for modeling an unhurried life.

As a believer, Jesus is my rest. Yet how often I spiritually speed in the passing lane through my day. Much of it stems from acting like the world holds its breath until I can save the day. Yuck.

It’s not all up to me. I will say it again.

It’s not all up to me. I’m beginning to believe it.

It’s not all up to me. Thank you, God, it’s not.


Thanks, Gramp.