Don't Be a Dried Up Worm

Some of my earliest memories are fishing with my grandfather. I could not swim, so he strapped me into an ancient, ill-fitting lifejacket that reeked of old fish. I hated it, but hanging out with my grandpa made wearing the wretched thing worth it. He taught me to cast a rod and bait a hook. I liked digging in the worm bucket, searching for the juicy ones, his term, not mine.

So, worms don't freak me out, and I developed an unusual habit as an adult. If I see a worm on the pavement, I put it back in the grass because dried up worm carcasses are just sad.

Dried Up Worm

Today, I spotted a struggling worm, barely moving, and beginning to dehydrate.  I stopped to pick it up but did not quite get a hold of it.  To my surprise, it started thrashing like mad, which startled me. For a second, I considered abandoning it to its fate. But when I tried to pick it up again, it kept twisting, and I could not catch it. In the end, I scooted it back into the grass with my toe.  It took a couple of tries, but the worm finally made it.

As I walked away, I realized the worm had no clue it was going to die if it stayed on the path it set for itself.  It certainly did not know I was trying to assist. Instead of embracing the help, it viewed my intervention as an attack and fought to continue its journey to destruction.  But I had a better view of what the future held and took care of the worm, whether it knew it or not.

How often do we behave like the thrashing worm, and how much more important are we to God than a worm?

Sometimes in life, God is like a loving grandfather who puts us in a stinky lifejacket for our safety. Uncomfortable or unhappy in our surroundings, He might be teaching us valuable lessons or giving us treasured memories. And when the time comes to go, instead of struggling when He picks us up, why not relax in the palm of His hand?  If we thrash around, we will miss the view from above and never realize this is a rescue, not an attack. We will be back in the cool of the grass soon enough.

Don't be a dried up worm. He's got you.

(Originally published August 5, 2013)

American Pie - An American Prophecy

My college car did not have Air Conditioning, which is fine for the temperate North Carolina mountains but makes for an uncomfortable afternoon commute in Charlotte.  One August day in 1990, I was baking in the asphalt oven, traffic was gridlocked, and my nerves were frayed.  On a whim, I pulled into a restaurant.  Never one to eat by myself, I did not have a book or a cell phone to keep me occupied but the booth was cool and dinning room empty so I settled in patiently anticipating my burrito el grande.

1980 Honda Accord - Air Conditioning Optional

In the quiet, the opening strum of American Pie came over the speakers.  I smiled, as does anyone who grew up in a time when radio stations would actually play an 8:40 song.  My American Pie story is of being a 4 year old with a ruptured appendix being rushed to the hospital while singing the chorus.  I still remember laying down in the back seat and my Mother admonishing me to please pick another song.  I didn't understand why it upset her and it hurt less when I sang.

Anyway, back to the Mexican restaurant:  As I sat there I heard the song for the first time.  Notions of the Rapture and the End Times were a concept that I had the briefest acquaintance and then only because my Dad had begun his journey into eschatology.  I was finishing my burrito as Don was finishing his song and it struck me that this song was about America after the Rapture.  I was stunned.  I remember mentioning it to my Dad later and his warm brown eyes caught that look, the one he got when I would get on his level spiritually and feed him a nugget.  Oh Lord, I miss that look.

So in honor of Dad, who loved prophecy (and pie, by the way), and in honor of Mom who didn't wreck the car on the way to the ER all those years ago, and July 4th, 2015 let's break down American Pie from a Prophetic view point.

Some Doubted

…but some doubted.  Three little words that stand out to me like a piece of pepper stuck in someone’s tooth.  The phrase is in Matthew 28:17, When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.

Jesus Ascending

Let’s put this in context.  It is the last chapter of Matthew after the disciples had witnessed Jesus’ life, miracles, ministry, death and resurrection.  There, a resurrected Jesus stands before them and when the SAW him they worshiped him, but some still doubted.  What does that passage tell us about human nature?  It tells us many things, mainly that in spite of seeing all of the great events in Jesus’ life, the disciples still doubted.  Why do you think that is?  I think it is because they did not at that time have the Holy Spirit within them.

Now it would be easy to stand in judgment of the disciples at this point.  After all they were THERE.  They saw him, they touched him, they ate with him and saw him die and rise again.  Surely, had we been in their shoes we would not have doubted.  I would not be so certain myself.  How many people do you know of that have had awesome miracles in their lives that they KNEW were from God, only to claim after the excitement wears off that it was just fate or circumstance or the wisdom of the doctors that saved them.  How many times in your own life has the Lord delivered you and afterward you doubted that it was His divine intervention?

The Holy Spirit is what divides the New Testament Christians from the Old Testament Jews.  Through the shed blood of Jesus Christ we are able to have the Spirit of God inside us at all times.  During the Old Testament times the Spirit of the Lord would come upon people for a period, but that was temporary and He did not indwell the believer.  That is the only thing that sets us apart.  That is why those who profess faith in Christ but have never asked Him into their lives struggle.  The ministry of the Holy Spirit is one of the most under appreciated movements in our modern day churches.

Without the Holy Spirit we do not even have faith in the things we can see and touch.  That is why people can go to church their whole lives and know in their mind who Jesus is but never make the commitment to let Him into their hearts.  I think that is why so many professing Christians do not bear any fruit. 

Who are they?  Are you one?  Is the person sitting next to you in church one?  They are Christians in name only.  They come as far as they can in the Christian walk without asking the Holy Spirit to come into their lives.  They have accepted the kernel of doubt in their own hearts as part of everyone’s faith.  They do not believe when others profess to not have any doubts about their faith, because they themselves do not know the truth.

You can go to many churches and never hear a word about the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit within us is the perfecter of our faith.  He convicts our conscience.  He is the guiding force that keeps all of us in line and living for God and not ourselves.  Only through the Holy Spirit are we able to have communion with God and worship Jesus our Savior.

The Holy Spirit

So if you have doubts, in spite of knowing the truth, ask the Father to send the Holy Spirit to you.  Ask Jesus into your heart and welcome the Holy Spirit.  Do not be one who knows the truth and does not act upon it.

(This post was written in 2003 and originally published on January 29, 2011)

Counterterrorism in the Spiritual Realm

Have you ever considered that evil has a full armor?  Since we are told in Ephesians 6 that we struggle not against flesh and blood but against spiritual wickedness in high places, then logically, the armor we are told to don is exactly opposite of what the enemy wears.  To wear the armor as purely a defensive barrier is perhaps an underestimation of the battle.  If you watch martial artists fight, you recognize that the sword is not the only weapon.  You also realize that the expression that there is no armor for your back is a misnomer, because the belt and the helmet cover your back.

(Note this blog was originally published in August 2013)

Pastor Mark Bilitz of El Shaddai Ministries puts forth a compelling argument that the armor of God is not patterned after a Roman Soldier but after the robes of a Jewish Priest.  That hypothesis resonates with me on a very deep level in my soul and has caused me to rethink this important part of Scripture. It is with fresh eyes and an open heart I would like to take a look at the weapons of warfare and those of our adversary, I think the church needs to employ some counter-terrorism strategies.

Garments of a High Priest

If we gird our loins with the belt of truth, the enemy must seek to wrap us with their chains of lies.  We discern lies in our guts.  Jesus says that Satan is the Father of Lies and that every word from his mouth is a lie and that when he lies he speaks his native language; he was a liar from the beginning.  Thus, the first area of attack begins with a lie.  We are faced with lies in the public arena everyday.  The adage of Lenin that if you repeat a lie long enough people will believe it is being played out in spectacular fashion today.  When trying to discern the truth of anything, the first thing you must do is discover the lies that have perverted what you are studying.  (ie if you are looking to astronomy, you have to deal with the lies of astrology.)  Imagine if our belt of truth was similar to Wonder Woman's lasso of truth... what if in warfare we periodically tie the belt of truth around the mouth of the prevaricating enemy?

We put on the breastplate of righteousness, which is the righteousness of Christ - the enemy tries to hang the millstone of sin around your neck.  Knowing we have no righteousness in ourselves we valiantly try to lift our heads but our past keeps our heads bent to the ground.  We can only see the shadow of sin before us, our hearts break and it becomes impossible to breathe the breath of life.

Instead of walking in the shoes of peace, we roll out of bed and put on the slippers of fear.  Our steps are dogged by every type of fear the enemy can throw at us.  Our hung heads watch our fearful feet trudge along the dark paths of our past sins.  Think of the powerful weapon that the shoes of peace are on the body of a skilled martial artist; when you are walking in fear throw a few roundhouse kicks at your enemy, you will feel the fear lift, and your path will once again be one of peace.  In John 14:27 Jesus says, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

The enemy would have us armed with a shield of doubt and disbelief that is but a holey piece of Swiss cheese.  It is not an impenetrable force field of faith, it is not a dome of covering, it is a flimsy excuse of a weapon that does nothing to protect the wielder.  The "Name It and Claim It" false Gospel has been brilliant in disarming Christians for decades of their shield of faith.  By urging baby Christians to "believe God for things" they destroy the fragile and innocent faith new converts bring to bear.  Many folks continue to believe God for the big things of salvation and eternity but fail to have faith that He cares for them.  The twisted gospel takes admonitions of prayer and asking and perverts them into ways to control God.  The wreckage they leave behind is an abomination to God.

The poor warrior who is now chained with lies, with a millstone of past sins hanging from their neck, walking on the path of fear flanked by doubt and disbelief is now crowned with the vise grip of suffering and defeat.  The helmet of salvation and deliverance that would protect the brain and the ears is stripped away and messages of failure, hopelessness, and pain are heaped upon the believers head.  It is indeed a dark and scary walk at this point.

Lastly, instead of the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God, we are given the Wisdom of the World.  Everything is backwards in the Bible, look at how you are suffering when those that follow the enlightened path of the World prosper in all they do.  Worldly wisdom, common sense, and "the way things are done" bury the warrior; most submit.

In the depths of the battle, you may find yourself valiantly trying to follow Ephesians 6 and in the end having done all you can, to stand.  Use the weapons that God has given you to fight the enemy.  Recognize the tactics and respond with the correct piece of armor.  In the end, ask God for what you need, even if it is to fall in battle and ask Him to rescue you and fight on your behalf.  God who is faithful and just will hear your prayers and deliver you from the hands of the enemy.  In our weakness, His Grace is made perfect.

No Weapon Formed Against Me Shall Prosper

What I've Learned About Grief

Abigail and Dolley readers today we mark the three year anniversary of my Father's passing.  It was a cold, clear, beautiful January day exactly like it is today.  That he should leave us on such a day was a fitting tribute to him, because he was such a light in this world and his personality was bright and warm.  The world is a sadder and darker place without him and there has not been a day that has gone by that I have not missed him and wished he was still here.  I have come to realize a lot of things about grief these last few years and I'd like to share with you some of my lessons.

The first lesson is that everyone has to grieve in their own way.  There is no right or wrong way to grieve.  A quick internet search will yield many articles on the stages of grief but it is important to realize that they are not linear, predictable, or all inclusive.  A recently bereft person may go through three or four stages a day, some might never feel or experience one of the stages - grief is a personal thing.

Next, grief has it's own timing.  There is no chart that you can concoct that will say, you will grieve X amount of days for the loss of a parent, X amount of days for the loss of a spouse, ect.  It will simply be a personal experience and no amount of time, either personal or arbitrary will change that.  One of the best things I recall reading in the days afterwards were that you only get a chance to grieve right once.  If you try to rush through, push it down, move on before it is time, it will spring up in unexpected ways and times and can truly disrupt or disturb the rest of your life.  So do not rush this process, it will have it's own time whether you like it or not.

The pain closet... We have within our brains a space where we keep our most painful memories.  In the course of everyday life, we can walk by the closet, we know what is in there but we do not open the door.  We do not go inside.  When someone close to you dies, you have to go in there.  You do not have a choice, this loss belongs in that space.  If you are young, the closet might be empty, so you throw the item in there and shut the door.  If the closet is neat and tidy, you can box up this grief, add it to the inventory and get the heck out of there!  Unfortunately, most of us do not have a neat and tidy pain closet.  Some will open the door and an avalanche will ensue.  For those, there they stand with the deepest pain in their life surrounding them and the can not figure out why they are crying over something that happened 30 years before.  Some will shove the new box into the closet and like a traveler sitting on a suitcase will force the bolts closed.  Others may collapse in despair and stay in the closet way too long surrounded by misery.  Still others, will pick up the pieces and arrange them orderly on the shelf because it is the right time and they are strong enough to do it.  Again, each person is going to deal with this differently.

Everyone who loved the deceased has a right to grieve.  This is particularly sticky in the age of divorce or in the case of long term domestic partnerships.  Ex's are not expected to mourn.  If years have passed, it is even more shocking to them and everyone around them if they mourn deeply.  There is a shame in this type of grief, especially if they are remarried.  This was one of the most complicated aspects of the grieving process.

Lastly, people in mourning may react inappropriately, they might say things they should not, they may snap and be angry.  When the fog of grief begins to lift they may deeply regret those things, forgive them.  Be ready though, because it can take you by surprise.

In the end, you never get over it but you learn how to live with it.  If you and your loved ones are believers and followers of Christ, take comfort that you will see them again.  This is the greatest hope and the buttress that has seen me through.  For there is no death for those in Christ, just a brief parting before we join them again.

Why I Stopped Dieting for a Year

Abigail and Dolley readers I have been on a diet since I was 7.  On and off, of course, but for the vast majority of my life I have either been dieting or contemplating the next diet.  The weight struggle is never ending.  Like a gambling addict, I have had some great successes but most have been great failures; the great successes kept me going back for more. I have starved myself, given up entire food groups, counted calories, counted fat, counted carbs, counted fiber, counted points.  I have cleansed and fasted, I have taken medication, and in the last diet gave up wheat, corn, dairy, soy, and even my beloved coffee.  I have punished my body and my mind for not conforming to an ideal it was never made to comfortably be.  So this year, in April, after a particularly grueling diet (for which I lost 3 pounds that I regained while on the diet) I said enough is enough.

I declared that I was not going to diet or get on the scale for a full year.  A full year of not counting anything and not letting the scale determine my self worth.  I began going to a naturalistic doctor who is helping me heal.  I was a bit afraid, all chronic dieters have learned to not trust their own bodies, minds, and instincts.  Would I binge on every cookie and eat a quart of ice cream in one sitting?  I'd done that after a particular "elimination" diet.  To my surprise, I did none of that.

What I Learned From Being Unemployed

Abigail and Dolley readers one of the hardest things I have ever experienced was unemployment.  The emotions, the fear, the anger, the embarrassment, the financial implications, the isolation, and the sheer upheaval can be overwhelming.  The subject is so broad, dozens of blogs could be written addressing any number of subjects from finances to finding a new job to dealing with the stress; consider this blog a strong arm around your shoulders, a warm cup of coffee, and some advise from somebody who has been through it.

Have a plan everyday, something you are going to accomplish and only focus on your goal for the day.  It could be something like this:  Prayer and Scripture of the Day, Exercise, Clean the Bathroom, and Grocery Shop.

Another day may focus on a job search item so it could be:    Prayer and Scripture of the Day, Exercise, Fill out Unemployment Application, and Update Resume.

Batch your job related days and do not look for a job everyday.

Insure that your plans fill the "work day".   The work day was brutal.  I seemed to relax after 5:00 because I was used to being home and the "work day" was over.  My tough times were in the day.

When some well meaning soul asks you "What are you going to do?", you can reply, "Well, all I know is that today I am cleaning out the garage and that's about all I've got right now.  I will figure out tomorrow, tomorrow."

Jack Robinson - A Tribute

Abigail and Dolley readers my Dad, Jack Robinson went to be with the Lord on Friday, January 6, 2012.  He leaves behind a powerful legacy and he was an exemplary man who deserves a tribute.  I figured in the trillions of pieces of data on the internet, such a fine man deserves a few, so I will endeavor to do him justice.  For the purpose of this blog, I will not attempt to write a biography but instead I'd like to pay tribute to his life from a daughter's perspective.

Jack Robinson and Family

Dad was one of those rare men who preached the Gospel of Jesus Christ without speaking a word, he lived it.  The Holy Spirit resided quietly behind his kind brown eyes.  He was a church going man but was never "religious".  He dragged me out of bed every Sunday for the entire 18 years I lived under his roof and believe me I complained almost every Sunday.  He never wavered.  His favorite Scripture was Rev 3:20 - Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.  He realized that salvation was each individual's choice and he loved the below picture and would always point out that Jesus did not have a door knob on his side of the door.

He was honest and demonstrated it to me one Christmas when a store clerk gave him too much change.  Times were lean that winter and he loaded me back up in the van and drove back to the crowded mall to return the extra cash.  I groused about going back and told him he should just keep the money since it had not been his fault.  He shrugged and said, "That would be stealing.  How is it different than if I would have gone in and taken it from the register?"  Several months ago, I was faced with the same situation and after an internal struggle handed the extra money back to the surprised cashier who commented on my honesty.  I just smiled and said, "I was raised that way."

Jack Robinson was a smart guy and well respected in the field of mechanical engineering.  His name is on several pattens and a report he did was presented before Congress but you would never know it by talking to him.  He was quite humble and always praised others intelligence while never bragging on himself.  My 10 year old son commented the other day that his Grandpa Jack had known how to do all kinds of stuff but he never bragged.  That is indeed some of the highest praise a boy can give a man.

When I was 12, my Sunday School Class needed a teacher so I volunteered him.  He taught for most of the next 31 years.  Dad opened the Bible to dozens of students, young and old, who gained an understanding and appreciation for God's Word in ways that they never would have without him.  He took his role as a teacher seriously and would make time during the week to prepare and plan his lesson for the following Sunday.  One of his concerns after his heart attack was that somebody needed to take care of his class.  He was especially intrigued and interested in eschatology and my husband and I both share a wonderful memory of the day he came over with his charts and bible verses and explained the sequence of events in End Times Prophecy.

Dad and me with his Mom and Dad

We shared a love of science and the study of God's world.  We could talk for hours about the proofs for a young Earth and a Creator.  While he was in the hospital, we spoke of the marvels of the human body and its intricacies. We were blessed with several hours to just sit and talk, we enjoyed each other.  I know there will be many times over the course of the rest of my life that I will wish my Dad was around to talk about some interesting fact or another.

The Original Captain Jack

Dad was great with kids, his own of course, but also with our friends.  When I was really young, the neighborhood children would hear the rumble of his Dark Green GTO coming down the street and greet him with cries for him to play "Monster".  He'd laugh, his brown eyes sparkling, and give the kids what they were clamoring for by sticking out his long pointed tongue, dragging a leg behind him with arms flalling, all the while growling, "I'm gonna get you kids... Raaaahhhhh!"  Screams of delight mixed with a touch of childish fear filled the neighborhood as the children ran for cover.  The kids loved him.  There was one boy, who had lost his Father in Vietnam, that would come over and ask if "Jack could come out and play?"

Dad was rough and tumble with his girls.  My earliest memory of him is playing, running from him.  If he caught you, you knew you were getting tickled and he was a great tickler.  He wasn't too rough and he didn't hurt you when he tickled you.  I guess he had a lot of practice on his two younger siblings and his four daughters.  He called it "The Claw" and depending on where he was tickling you it changed names, my particular spot was the "Knee Claw".  It would send me into near apoplectic fits of laughter.  He had a weakness though, if you could get to his feet he'd throw all us kids off and run away.  He was so very ticklish on the bottom of his feet.

He was quite gracious and would never mean to hurt your feelings.  He'd praise the worst drawing or eat the worlds most horrible pancakes with a smile.  Jack Robinson took the words, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" to heart and you rarely would hear him speak ill of someone else.  He never engaged in gossip and did not want any part of folks who did.

Daddy's Girl

Dad was a handsome man and the first love of all us girls.  I remember being quite devastated to learn that I would not be allowed to marry him when I grew up.  We adored him and I believe it could be said that we were all "Daddy's Girls".  Many a boy tried but few ever managed to live up to our Dad's example.  He became the model for Manhood but also the living example of our loving Father in Heaven.  I relate to God the Father in a way that would not be possible had my Dad not demonstrated his strong, protective, and fearful love to me. 

He put his family first, always.  He drove older cars so he could afford Christian Schools for us girls.  He faithfully made generous child support payments for many years.  In spite of a divorce, he never abdicated his role as Father in our lives.  He left a job of many years to avoid going overseas.  He demoted himself when he realized the job he had grown into was going to take too much time away from his family.  Engineering changed over the years and he commuted long distances and worked long hours when he had to do so.  He wasn't happy about it but he was a man of honor and he did what he had to do to provide for his family.

God gave Dad four girls and he raised us to be "tough".  We were all athletic, we all played and excelled at sports and he was always there to watch and to teach.  He had a great jump shot and I do not know if I ever won a game of Horse or Cat with him, I don't know if anyone ever did.  He taught me to play softball and must have thrown the softball to me and with me several thousand hours.  He did the same for all of us girls and in later years he got to with my son.

In Canada with his Grandson

One of the greatest honors of my life was to share my precious son with him.  He was Grandpa Jack's boy and quite proud of it.  They got to fish, sharpen knives, build bird houses, and drive the tractor.  They hiked to the Indian Rock and flew through the air on the zip line, then they'd pile up in the man cave upstairs and laugh at the Three Stooges.  There was always a swagger in my son's steps after he spent a few hours with my Dad, he would come home with a confidence and a reassurance of his manhood.  I regret that they will have no more time, but I praise God for the time they had together.  I think all who knew him and loved him are feeling that way.

As he passed away, I was overwhelmed with peace and comfort that he was not dead but alive in Christ.  The blessed assurance of salvation and the peace that surpasses all understanding has sustained me through these difficult days.  I know that he lives in all of us who he loved and loved him back.  His wit, his humor, his intelligence, his faith, and his spirit survive in us.  I will endeavor to do my part in living up to that legacy and honor his memory with my life.

Jack Randall Robinson

  May the Lord bless you and keep you.

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you,
and be gracious to you.

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you,
and give you peace.

Dying Daily

Dying Daily is a subject that most people don't like to think about, let alone do.  It is a process of daily bringing our natural self into total submission to God.  To consciously saying, "I got nothing, Lord.  Use me today to do Your will, not my own."  Admittedly, until recently I never did that.   I have lived my entire life giving lip service to surrendering to God but never actually doing it.  I asked Him to bless me in my own pursuits and in my own desires but I rarely asked Him what He wanted me to do.

I think because I was afraid of what He would ask of me.  In my mind, surrendering to God meant giving up all earthly pleasures, selling everything, moving to some remote foreign land to be rejected by the people He sent me to save and dying a horrible death from malaria.  Surrender to God, equated to poverty, discomfort, sacrifice, and suffering - none of these things are all that appealing.  Hey, I am being truthful here, surely there are others out there that think the same way.

So how did I go from living for myself to submitting to God?  What brought me to the place where I die to self daily and give over complete control?  That is simple, He brought me to my knees.  Now I have been brought low before, faced hard times, suffered and walked through many a wilderness.  I was close to God during those times but never broken.  We have within ourselves untapped reservoirs of strength and will that serve us well in times of trouble but will also keep us clinging to self when we should have surrendered long ago.

There is a first death to self that occurs when we give our lives to the Lord, when we are born again and our spirit is changed.  We go from being a condemned sinner to a new creation in Christ.  This is eternal change that no amount of bad behavior can ever change because that would mean we were in control in the first place.  Notice though, when we are born again - two parts of our being are NOT changed.  Our soul and our flesh are not changed, these are what we have to learn to bring into check and into control.  These are the things that have to die daily.

Galatians 5:24 Those who belong to Christ Jesus have nailed the passions and desires of their sinful nature to his cross and crucified them there. ²⁵ Since we are living by the Spirit, let us follow the Spirit’s leading in every part of our lives.

Maybe it is just me, but I fought this process HARD.  One day in early April, I died.  I died to myself.  I had no strength, no pride, no will, no illusions of my own beauty, intelligence, ability - nothing.  I wept before the Lord without the strength to raise my hands in praise.  In the end, all I could say was "I got nothing, Lord."  I wish I could tell you it was at that moment that the filling of the Holy Spirit took place.  I wish I could tell you that a white light shown down in my living room and the angels came to minister to my battered soul.  I wish I could tell you that peace, joy, and understanding replaced despair but alas they did not.  I felt utterly alone, even though I knew I wasn't.  I could not feel His presence, even though I knew He was there.  That was the purpose, I had to die and death is not fun.

So what has happened since early April?  Well, I continue to walk and pray with the Lord everyday.  Some days I stagger more than walk for this dying to self is not a singular act, it goes on everyday.  I am stronger and have moved into a depth with the Lord that is deep and meaningful.  Mostly, there is peace and understanding that His will for my life is better than anything I could ever plan.

So dear Abigail and Dolley readers I encourage you to take a step of faith and every morning before you get out of bed say to the Lord, "I give you my life today.  I surrender my own desires and my own will to You.  Use me today, fill me with your strength, your wisdom, and your heart.  Amen"