1994

We're having kind of a slow news life here in Shafferland, and to that we say, PRAISE THE LORD. Sometimes a lack of news means rest...and we've been soaking up the chance to do just that for a couple of weeks now. Sadly a lack of news is about the worst thing EVER for a blogger, because blank posts are, well, boring.

So anyway, I did a little digging in my home office and unearthed this beauty.

Oh my word. WHO MISSES THE NINETIES???? The bulky sweaters, the pleated pants, the big hair....oh be still my beating heart.. We must go back to this...never.

I digress.

This little magazine from twenty years ago next month is actually very dear to my heart, not because of any obvious fashion trend, but because inside the front cover, this:

My first time ever in print.

Seriously one of the most exciting moments of my young life. This little magazine for teens was published monthly by Walk Thru the Bible Ministries. {You remember Bruce Wilkinson, right? The Prayer of Jabez guy? This was the ministry he founded.} Our church subscribed to Youthwalk, and it was the reason I became serious about doing daily devotions. This little magazine right here. Pivotal in my walk...a stone in the altar of my spiritual life.

Each month, the magazine began with a column called "Speak Out." I noticed that each article was authored by a teen, and even though I saw nothing inside about how to submit something to it, I just typed up a little article and wrote a nice accompanying letter...and mailed it.

My parents didn't even know.

Actually, I should save that part of the story for another day. Today I wanted to share with you WHAT I wrote. Hope that is okay!

I present to you...sixteen year old Bekah {probably actually still fifteen when it was penned...} and her story:

"Honey, I'm depressed," my Dad told me one night at the dinner table. I looked at him in surprise. At first I thought it would be no big deal. I figured he would take some medicine, and in a couple of weeks he would be okay. Little did I know, his statement would change my life, as well as the rest of my family's.

My Dad was an active sixty-one-year-old man. He had been retired from is school teaching job for two years, and spent most of his time working on his hobby, which was a radio program. He spent hours in his studio, taping, copying, and sending his program all over the world.

Several months earlier, Dad had injured his leg (we thought) removing a seat from our mini van. He tried everything, but the pain didn't go away. Finally he went to the doctor, who told him that he had injured a disk in his back which was striking a nerve in his leg. He was put on medication that didn't agree with his system, and he plunged into a clinically depressed state.

The first few days after Dad announced he was depressed, I didn't see a lot of change in him. But soon I began to see that the situation was a lot more serious than I had first thought. I felt totally responsible, since I was the one who had wanted the van seat removed in the first place. No one told me it was my fault, but I blamed myself anyway.

Dad began growing worse. He didn't get up to see me off to school anymore. When he did get up, he came out to his recliner and then slept some more. He didn't ever feel hungry, and when he did eat, he would only eat hamburgers. He didn't go out to get the mail or the paper anymore. When churches would call and ask him to fill in for a vacationing or ill minister, he turned them down. He quit singing in the church choir. He even quit producing his radio program. Eventually, he wouldn't even get out of bed to go to church.

It was very hard - even frightening - for me to see my Dad this way. I envied my two older sisters. They were married, and lived too far away to see Dad's decline. For the first time in my whole life, I couldn't wait to go to school, and I hated hearing the dismissal bell.

One day I was at my best friend's house, looking through her yearbook and reading the messages. I saw one that included a Scripture passage. It was Psalm 121:1-2, which read, "I lift up my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth." I read the entire chapter, but I kept coming back to those two verses. I began to realize that I hadn't been relying on God's strength and love during this difficult time. I told God I realized I had been wrong in trying to cope with Dad's depression on my own, and I asked Him to help me through it and to restore Dad's health, if that was His will.

Slowly, Dad began to recover. He started taking an anti-depressant, got therapy for his back, and gradually regained his health. He eventually resumed all of his normal activities and even started eating more than hamburgers.

Even though my Dad's depression was one of the most difficult things I ave ever gone through, I've grown stronger in my Christian walk. I have learned to trust God for everything, and to look to Him for help, because He'll always be there to watch over me, "both now and forevermore."

***

So there you have it. Your Bekah's first published writing. Maybe next week I can tell you the story of how I found out about it!

No Bake Cookies

Of all the recipes I've posted for our box, this is probably the one you already have. But oh my goodness. I had to post it...because of all the recipes posted in our box so far...this is probably the one we eat the MOST!

What can I say? It is filling, it is chocolate {helLO!} and it is FAST.

I try to make dessert for us about once a week...and then we eat whatever it is for the week. Usually Sunday is my go-to day for making treats, because I have time in the afternoon and evening. And since we've stopped storing our leftover desserts in plastic containers in our oven {we only melted dishes twice before we learned to give up THAT habit}, we have been able to enjoy many beautiful days of dessert.

I make this one when I'm tired or in a hurry, because it is one of the fastest things. It's not the healthiest one. But that's okay. It's still really good.

Anyone else out there a no-bake junkie?? I feel there could be worse things to be addicted to...right?

No Bake Cookies

* 1/2 cup butter
* 2 cups sugar
* 1/2 cup milk
* 4 Tablespoons cocoa
* 1/2 cup peanut butter
* 3 1/2 cups quick cooking oats
* 2 teaspoons vanilla

Combine butter, sugar, milk and cocoa in a pan on the stove and bring to a boil. Boil for a minute, then remove from heat and add peanut butter, oats, and vanilla. Stir together and drop by teaspoonful on waxed paper until cool. Enjoy!

 A Few Tips

* I use real butter, not margarine. I think that is just kind of standard practice for most people now, but in case it's not, I thought I'd throw it in there for you.

* We don't do many organic things {can't afford it and just don't really get into it like a lot of people do} but we DO use organic milk. We usually get fat free or 1% milk - depending on what the store has that week. I never have problems cooking with either one.

* In this particular photo shoot, I used creamy peanut butter, because it's what we had, but I actually prefer to use crunchy peanut butter in this. I love the crunch and the way it looks in the cookies. Either works fine, though. Up to you!

* I also use real vanilla, instead of imitation. It's a preference thing, and I always think it tastes better!

Dreaming Out Loud

When Ryan and I were whirl-winding it through our engagement, I had only one worry about married life: would I be able to adjust to having another person in my space? I'd lived on my own for many many years...and I was very accustomed to having my own space. I was eager beyond words to have Ryan there to take away the loneliness and to share the joy. But I was afraid my bent toward having my own way in my own space 100% of the time would prove to be an issue.

It was the biggest {and best} surprise of marriage to find out God ironed out that wrinkle and it wasn't an issue at all. {Probably the 10+ hours we spend apart every day gives me PLENTY of alone time.}

But one thing I'd not considered was adjusting to have another person in my dream space.

I am a dreamer. I always have been. It's probably why I'm a writer. All these dreams swirl in my head and they have to come out somehow. And so, I write.

For all these years, I've dreamed and dreamed and dreamed...and I've never shared them in my at-home space. Well. In my journals, I did, but I never did out loud. I never had anyone to share them with, and it never occurred to me that maybe I might actually want to do that.

Ryan is a bit of a dreamer himself, and in the past almost two {!!!!} years of marriage, we've done a lot of dreaming together.

The crazy part of it is, Ryan actually puts feet to dreams. Even before we got engaged, when we brainstormed places to get married, it was Ryan who dreamed up Florida. I remember seeing a brief mental vision of walking across sand in a wedding dress before looking at Ryan and saying in a whisper, We can DO that??? He looked at me like I was crazy and said, Why NOT?

Why not indeed????

And he was right. We were adults and if we wanted to dream up a beach wedding...guess what?!?! We could!!

That was the beginning of a whole new world for me. I was used to dreaming, journaling, and then forgetting.

Ryan was used to dreaming, planning, and then making those dreams happen.

And that's where I realized for the first time...I had to adjust to dreaming out loud in front of someone.

For chickens like me, there is great safety in dreaming, journaling, and forgetting. There is great risk in dreaming out loud and taking steps {whether baby steps or giant leaps} toward seeing those dreams take life.

Of course it's exciting when they do come to life. But there's always that fear...that you could try...and fall.

Recently I've had dreams tumbling through my head at a pace that alarms me. Like if I could actually crawl OUT of my own brain for a moment and take a break, I would. And sometimes I am bursting inside to tell Ryan the latest crazy dream, but I pause because I wonder...what if it actually happened?

The great thing about Ryan is that his heart is kind beyond words. He watches me get these crazy schemes and pace around and gesture as words tumble out faster than I can think them, and though he sometimes get that little smirk on his face, I know the smirk is love and amusement.

So even if dreaming out loud is new and different for me, It's wonderful in so very many ways. It's exciting to have someone who understands even when the dreams shoot into the beyond. It's exciting to learn that I can be real and even if the dream never comes true, there's always the joy of sharing it - with someone and not just a journal.

I am so glad I'm a dreamer. And I'm so glad Ryan is a dreamer...a sharer of dreams...and isn't afraid to give feet to dreams.

Dreaming out loud has never been sweeter.

Farewell to Summer

I don't know what it was like in your neck of the woods Saturday, but here it was gorgeous. Almost summer-like!

Ryan and I slept until TEN IN THE MORNING, which if you don't know us very well...never happens. We were both exhausted, because, well, we lead an exhausting life. It was our first Saturday at home in six weeks and we cherished every moment.

My first order of business was to swap out the summer clothes for the winter clothes in our closet. Kind of a hard task to be excited about with the windows open and the warm sun shining in, but I knew if I didn't do it then....it wouldn't get done.

Ryan got busy in the backyard, blowing and raking and mulching the first layer of leaves that fell from our massive tree.

It was the last day for our dear outdoor living space...booooooo.

I helped rake leaves, with the most amazing rake EVER. If I'd had this thing when I was single, I might have actually NOT hated raking.

We ran some errands, and when we came home...time for the last lunch outside. Sob.

And then....sniff, sniff, sniff...it was time.

Time for the pirogi to come down. It's just so SAD!!!

Let the record show, I helped. This is as high on the ladder as I get.

I did finally have to give up unhooking the curtains though. ICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You can know I did not get close enough to take that. Ryan did.

So our beloved pirogi is put away for another year, and fall is officially here. {We capped off the evening by going out for date night at Steak n Shake and then grocery shopping. We give dating a good name.}

And by the way. After all Ryan's hard work on the yard, by last night, you couldn't even tell he had BEEN THERE. Sigh. Leaves. 

In Which Bekah Builds a House

Sort of.

Earlier this year, the station took on a partnership with Habitat for Humanity to help build a house for a family in Fort Wayne. We spent a few months fundraising for the house, and now, we're helping to actually BUILD the house. Each staff member takes a turn at the Habitat site for a day, and this last Friday was my day.

Terrified best describes how I felt about this assignment. I can {and will!} paint all day long. I have vision for furniture placement and picture hanging and all sorts of detail-oriented things. But hammers? Saws? Nails? TERRIFIED. Not my gift. I had been assured about a thousand times {from different people} before heading out to the site that it was okay that I was clueless, because they could train a person.

Well, perhaps they could train a person, but they had never taken on a Bekah.

The day BEFORE my visit to the site, Lynne and I talked about it on air and she joked that I would be kind of like Steve Urkel out there - "Did I do thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?" I bantered back that if only I had a pair of suspenders, I'd do it. Well, don't you just know that my dad is the king of suspenders. My mom lovingly dug through his supply and found me a pair of Crayola green suspenders with SNOWMEN on them and dropped them off at the house.

I was so intimidated by the whole thing that I was far too chicken to actually wear them to the work site, so I made Ryan take my Urkel-esque picture at home before I left.

I packed the suspenders and some snacks in the car and headed north for the day. I arrived on site and went to check in. I knew my day was full where volunteers were concerned. {I think 25 was the max they could have on one day.} What I did NOT know until I arrived and introduced myself to the coordinator was that NONE of them had volunteered through the station. It was a whole group from somewhere else. And Bekah.

OH MY WORD. How glad was I that I had not shown up in my Urkel get-up?? Can you imagine????????

I cried. I will not even lie about it. I cried. A normal person would have viewed this as a beautiful opportunity to make new friends, but all I could think was that now 25 strangers who had no idea who I was or what I was there...were about to find out just how bad at construction I actually am.

One thing I do love and appreciate about Habitat is that they're a faith-based organization, so they began the day with prayer and I gathered my wits about me during the prayer.

This particular house is being built as part of a subdivision made up entirely of Habitat homes. I think it's actually a pretty brilliant plan. They had nine houses underway - all in various stages of completion. One had its slab poured on Friday. A couple of others are almost done. Carpet and appliances are in, and only minor finishing touches remain. It's really great for them that they're able to have so many properties in one area, because it allows them to have all their equipment and tools in a central location!

Here I am in front of the WBCL house - the one our family will receive!

Yes. That is me in a hard hat and safety glasses, holding a hammer and wearing an apron full of nails. Let the record show that the hammer and nails never got used by this girl, and the only injury I sustained the entire day was when I poked my eye out with my safety glasses. Only me. {Can we say together...did I do thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?}

Here was the WBCL house in the morning:

They partnered me with a guy and girl from the other group, and together, our job was to wrap the lower level of the house in Tyvek. {For those of you who, like me, are construction-challenged, Tyvek is a waterproofing material.} It was in a roll somewhere between 8 and 10 feet tall, and my job was to hold the roll and guide it in a straight line around the house and hold it still while the other two used the staple guns. It was easy and it was hard. Easy because...duh...it's ROLLING. Hard because it was awkward and heavy!

We worked on the WBCL house all morning and then ate lunch together as a group. {Subway: yummy!} We got back to work in the afternoon and started doing this same thing to another house in the area, but about an hour into it, the other group had to leave FOR THE DAY.

So that left me as the only volunteer! I asked if they had anything a non-non-NON-skilled laborer could do, and they gave me a nifty little magnet on a pole and had me pick up staples, nails, screws and other metal, tire-impaling objects around the site. That was actually my most fun part of the day!

Before I left, I took another picture of the WBCL house, which had gotten not only wrapped, but also had some interior walls added on the second floor!

On my way home, I stopped at Starbucks, and ended up waiting in line so long, my frappe was FREE!! That was a nice bonus!


So that's the story of Bekah building a house. If you need some Tyvek installed, give me a call. I have mad skills.{Ryan said maybe maddening skills is a better description.} My only request is that you put my safety glasses on me.

The Shafferland Shuffle

* REALLY good sermon at church last Sunday. I probably looked like a bobble head in my seat with all my nodding. It was the end of a tremendous series that I really appreciated. Ryan and I were blissful bums the rest of the day, watching TV, dreaming up vacations, going for a walk on a GORGEOUS fall afternoon, and finishing up with a Polar Pop treat!

 * Monday was Ryan's co-worker's birthday, so we began the day by baking a breakfast casserole for her. House smelled so good! We were excited to come home and find our new roof COMPLETE! One day is all it took to put up the whole thing. So thankful! And the evening did have its hard parts, as you already saw, when we got more delays on the house. We took some time in the prayer chapel to try to continue to get our hearts in line with whatever God is doing here!

* Tuesday night, Ryan had to attend a continuing education class, so I used the evening to get things done that I didn't get done on Monday, thanks to the bad news on the house. I came home and tried a new Pinterest recipe for dinner - which was very good, by the way. I decorated the fireplace for fall, finally {it still had apple stuff up} and did some work on the computer with Braeya in my lap. I missed Ryan, but it was a good night!

* Wednesday, for some weird reason, it was SO COLD at work, I'm never cold, but the minute Lynne left for the day, I snagged her heater and used it until I went home. WHAT?!?!?!?!? Ryan had a long talk with our Greentown realtor when he got home, and I sat inside the house watching intently out the window while he talked on the phone. More waiting. Much. More. Waiting. So we kicked off the next season of waiting by curling up on the couch and watching TV together. A much needed evening of bonding.

 * Thursday, we got treats at work when someone brought us some cupcakes! I decided mine was healthier if I drank water while I ate it! HA!!! After work, I took stock of our backyard, which had become overrun with the start of the fallen leaves...and then Ryan and I went to the gym for a good workout. I don't know where everyone was, but the room was almost empty, which was GREAT with me! :)

* Friday was my day to work at the Habitat for Humanity house build for WBCL. I will have to tell you more about this next week; definitely an interesting day! I helped wrap two houses with Tyvek {a sentence I never imagined writing in my lifetime} and learned a lot about the process they go through at Habitat to make the houses possible for the people! Scored a free frappe on my way home, which made me very happy. Ryan and I had a low key night at home...pizza  and movie night for two tired Shaffers!

* Ryan and I woke up at 10 a.m. yesterday! We fell asleep on the couch at 10 p.m. Friday night, woke up at 3 in the morning, went to bed, and kept sleeping. We were TIRED! We had our first Saturday at home in 6 weeks and used it for our Habitat for Shaffers day...winterizing the house. BOO. I worked on swapping the closets from summer clothes to winter clothes. Ryan mulched and raked leaves and together, we took down the pirogi...after having one last meal in there. So sad to see summer going away!

The Saturday Six

One.

Source

I have a heart that loves old churches and schoolhouses remade into homes. SO. MUCH. CHARACTER. Like this one. 

Two.

Source

Ryan and I just had a discussion a few days ago about the whole concept that we {the greater "we" - not just the two of us} feel like we have to have some huge platform to have effective ministry. This is a well-written post on why that is absolutely NOT true.

Three.

Source

I love it when God plants a dream and brings it to pass. LOVE IT. I am also a HUGE fan of the HGTV show Fixer Upper and Chip and Joanna Gaines, who host it. Joanna's most recent blog post about her dream of these silos is a goose-bump inducing reminder of how God specializes in impossible dreams!

Four.

Source

Earlier this week, I confirmed an interview for Lynne with Heather Zempel, author of Amazed and Confused. I went to Heather's website to copy the web link into our materials and this post was at the top of her page. Timely for us in our current season...perhaps timely for you, too? What do you pray in the land of "if not"?

Five.

Source

And speaking of our current season...another great piece of writing... this one by Laurie Wallin - on standing. Waiting.   So hard to do. But such a necessary part of the journey.

Six.

Source

 Christmas is coming, you know. I am SO not ready for it. SO not ready. {From the gift-buying perspective. I am actually ready for everything else!!} I've told you about these books before, but it's been a long time, and in case you have kids in your life, I wanted to tell you again. My friend Brent Vernon has written and illustrated 3 children's books about Audrey Amaka, the neckless giraffe. These books are SO GOOD. Brent is so talented and I'm proud of him for publishing these. {I only wish I lived closer to him so I could go to the live parties at Christmas!} So anyway. Here's the website for the books - and I promise they would be worth the purchase!

Dreams and Such

Back in the days before blogging, I "blogged" via a weekly email. It was something I began as a discipline to write something besides journal entries each week. My mom {who has always been a champion of my writing} told all her friends to sign up to receive it, and that was my start at blogging.

One of my work friends {in the 5% of those signed up to receive the email outside of my mother's influence} said I really needed to put those emails into a blog so I could reach more people.

Truth?

Reaching more people terrified me. Each week, when I wrote the email, I would craft it with the entire email list in mind. I deleted and edited sentences based on specific reactions I was afraid to receive. But blogging? That would mean I might have no idea who was reading. How would I edit then? So I ignored my work buddy.

Then one day, he called me into his office, told me he'd set up a blog for me. He handed me a paper containing the blog address and my password.

And that's how I started blogging.

For a while, I did both. The weekly email and the blog. And during one of those years, I offered my email readers a little bonus at Christmas: daily emails containing an advent devotion. They could sign up if they wanted, but they didn't have to. Much to my shock, several did. And every day I'd send out an email with this writing project I'd worked on a couple years before that.

And they said what a lot of people say when they read the writing of someone they know and love:  You should write a book.

You thought being bold and brave enough to blog was a big deal. BOOK WRITING? Oh hives.

Finally, with a couple of writing conferences under my belt and a rare surge of courage springing from within, I pursued publishing that book. And every door I tried...closed. So I put it aside.

And then...along came WestBow Press. Thomas Nelson {major Christian publishing house} began a self-publishing arm. Pursuing publication with them meant digging into my own money to finance the project. It was scary, but I wanted to try, so I did it.

As always, God's timing was so perfect. The year I published the book was the same year I had my heart broken in love...and I needed something good to happen.

The first day I saw the first copy of my first book...was about a million dreams come true:

The first copy came in July, and throughout that fall season, I had a few book signings, mailed many copies, and even had a radio interview on a little show we like to call Mid-Morning.

 I have loved this little book - and the journey it gave me that year.

I began to read, after I wrote and published the book, more about the world of self-publishing. There were pros and cons and it seemed writers were very divided on how to do it. And even more than that - it seemed that those who had ever had a chance to publish a book traditionally had no desire to step away from that forum.

Until now.

This week, I read a post and watched a video {by two different people} who have both had good success with multiple books published traditionally, but published their most recent book on their own. Their reasons were different, but their choice was the same.

I've had some ideas swirling in my head for a while now - for more books. And as they swirl, I think about how I might go about writing and publishing them. {Time to write is the first huge hurdle!} But I'm realizing my dreams are becoming far less about the number of copies I might sell and more about the impact in the lives of the people who read however many copies sell.

We're taught to dream big, but what if we dreamed small? I would rather have God accomplish lasting things in the lives of a few people through my words than have my words reach millions but make no difference in them.

So that's where I am in dreamland. Praying for the right words and the right doors to transport them to those who need to hear them, regardless of how many it might be.

Feeling at Home

Yesterday I read this post by Emily A. Clark - in which she referenced this post about costly decisions homeowners make that later affect the resale value of the home.

Emily's question in her post became...do you make decisions in your house based on now or later? Do you choose everything based on the fact that you might put your home on the market at some point?

I love this question! So right off the bat, of course, I'm curious about what you think. Are you making design and decorating choices right now with resale in the back {or front} of your mind?

This may shock you, coming from the girl who has TWO homes on the market, but my answer to this is a resounding no. {Please refrain from saying that this is WHY we still have two homes on the market. HA!!}

When I moved into this home back in 2000, I had just spent four years in university housing, where the number one rule was DO NOT DO ANYTHING TO THE WALLS. NO paint. No nails. No personality. So my main objective was to paint every wall and hang up every picture. Thankfully, my style has improved since those days.

But once I got over binge painting and obsessive picture-hanging, I have tried so hard to make our home...our home. I choose colors that I hope are pleasing and inviting, not only for the two of us, but also for anyone else who might come to visit. The art and photos on our walls reflect who we are and what we love, and I'm unapologetic about those things.

I'm sure home stagers would wildly disagree with me {and they have the expertise to do so, certainly!}, but my feeling is that my home is my home until it sells, and I want to feel at home here. I want to look around and feel cozy and comfortable and welcome. And hopefully others see and feel the same when they come through.

Therefore, we haven't de-personalized the house, even though it's on the market. We were curious to see what people would say when they came through. We were pleased to hear that people find it just as we hoped: inviting. One lady called it Pinterest-perfect {which made my DAY, even though I don't think it's necessarily true}. Several told us that they can feel love from the pictures they see. So far, no one seems unable to envision themselves within our walls...just no one has made our walls their walls. :)

So my answer is...I prefer a home that feels like home. And I make my choices based on what feels warm and comfortable. And I trust that when it's time to sell, the right buyer will feel so at home, he or she will want to MAKE it home.

So that's me. How about you?

{And some pics of this place we call Shafferland. This place we call home.}

Seven Years

Ryan attended a class after work last night, which left me with a free evening to accomplish the chores I did not get done the night before that {on account of my meltdown over the house debacle}. I cooked a big dinner, so we could have leftovers for a few days, decorated the fireplace for October {you know, a few days late}, did some cleaning, and fought with Braeya, who insisted upon sitting on my lap while I tried to type. Normally she does this to Ryan, so I'm not used to it. I guess I was her consolation prize last night.

Just for kicks and giggles, I decided to peruse through the blog archives to see what was going on seven years ago. I figure seven is the perfect number, so I was curious to see how life had changed in seven {im}perfect years.Thought I'd give you a peek into the Bekah transformation.

* I was still working at IWU back then, and I had just joined the wellness program. I'd wanted to do it before, but they required a physical to join and I didn't want to go to the doctor. {Okay, some things never change.}

* I was "hitting the floor" in prayer, according to one blog post. {Okay, maybe NOTHING has changed in the last seven years.} But I did find it interesting that my prayers then were about asking God if I was making the best use of the territory He had given me at that time - before I prayed to be given more. Not that there was anything wrong or insignificant about the territory I had then, but to look back and see how God allowed me more territory through writing a book and through transitioning to work at the station makes me so thankful I spent time hitting the floor. And maybe I'll be able {in seven years} to look back and be thankful for these floor-hitting days of prayer.

* I got myself into THE craziest scrapes. {I'm convinced. Nothing changes.} But I cracked UP reliving this night. Check it out! {In which Bekah is hit on by a potentially drunk and/or high old man.}

* According to the blog, our town had just received word that we would be welcoming a Meijer into  our midst, bringing great hope to those of us who couldn't take it at Wal-Mart anymore. I'm happy to report that we DO have our Meijer now and it has revolutionized my shopping experiences.

* In that season, I was remaking my own baby book. {Did that in an attempt to have something in scrapbooking-common with all my friends who were having babies. I did a throwback page to my first bath. Big fan of cleanliness. 

* My sweet baby boy was still alive. I miss him.

Seems like a lifetime ago. Really was if you go back to that bath picture! A whole different life. A good life, to be sure. A comical life, at times. But so different. And even on my quiet evening last night, I was thankful that the silence was temporary. That in just a matter of time, the door would open, and Ryan would walk in. A life I prayed for back then...but had no idea when it would come. And the changes I pray for now - even though I'm not sure what to pray for - will come in time! Thankful for that.

God Speaks Tears

A little good and a little bad in everything, right?

Before I think about the bad, I feel compelled to give thanks for the good, which is that we left home yesterday morning, with our tired, wind-damaged roof hovering over our home, and by the time we came home, a handful of men were hauling ladders to a van and a gorgeous new roof sparkled above us. We had some wind damage last fall when the tornado came through Marion. We weren't hit, but the superfluous winds that came over our property took a number of shingles away, leaving us all bedraggled looking.

The roof is lovely in EVERY way. It looks perfect atop our house, and I feel better going into the winter knowing we have a fresh roof above us. And for that, I'm thankful. And for their ability to complete it in ONE DAY, I'm thankful. And for our neighbors who endured all the nail guns on their ONE DAY of fall break, I'm ever EVER so sorry.

So that's the good.

The bad is that we heard from the Greentown realtor again and my goodness, things just do not look good for the sale of that house. We are brokenhearted for ourselves and for the buyers. It's a whole long story that you really shouldn't have to care about and I don't want to spill in too much detail because it's not just our story, and they didn't ask to be blogged about.

Bottom line...we could be looking square one straight in the eye here in a few days. We weren't fond of square one when we saw it last time - or the time before that. Wonder if it's gotten any prettier since then?

We went for a run and then Ryan took my hand and led me to the prayer chapel so we could pray together.

I had nothing in me. Nothing.

So while Ryan knelt at the altar and prayed for our strength and for wisdom and for all manner of things that a good, leading husband should pray for, I propped myself against the wooden rail and sobbed.

I looked around that room...that grand room with its deep, dark wood and masterful stained glass windows...that cathedral provided for moments such as this. I looked at the seats where I spent hours over the years. The seats where I scrawled and whispered long, wordy prayer. Specific requests.

Last night? No words. None at all. Nothing came. I just leaned my head against the hard corner of its edge and stared at the beauty around me. I was in my running clothes still, so I looked {and probably smelled} all disheveled. Such a misfit. There I was, all slumped against this grand altar, with my wrinkled workout clothes and windblown hair, snotting on my sleeve {since there were no tissues to be found in the whole place}, and yet, it was home. I felt free to slump against the altar, because this place and I had a history. I'd spent time praying the words. The time had come to just simply be. Disheveled amid beauty.

I scooted to the side and saw Him.

Fresh tears.

The reminder that HE knows what it feels like to slump in prayer with no words. To hurt in ways that no one understands. To pray for sustaining faith.

I forced myself to get up and sit in a pew beside Ryan and I found words, finally. I prayed for him...for both of us.

Do I understand these delays and this testing. Oh my goodness, no. But I am comforted to know HE knows and He speaks tears.