Have You Considered My Servant Job?

How many of us have compared ourselves to Job, that Godly man from the Old Testament who is attacked by Satan and favored by God?  When calamity hits, we remember how God was pleased with Job and so He allowed Satan to try and sway his faith, but Job did not waver.  We tell ourselves that we too are being tested and that we too will stand strong.

Well, let me ask you something.  Those of you who have lost jobs, lost homes, lost loved ones, lost your own child, you do need to stand strong and not lose your faith; however, before comparing yourself to Job, think about his loss.  He lost ALL of his possessions, servants, and livelihood.  This was seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred donkeys.  We're not talking about a few acres and and some cattle.  His lost was more than devastating.  And before he could digest the news of this loss, he was told he had lost his children.  Not a child.  His seven sons and three daughters.  At one time.  Before he could completely mourn these great tragedies, his body was struck with boils.

Do you know what boils are?  They are sores under the skin that fester like blisters.  Have you ever had blisters?  They hurt.  Have you ever had them over every inch of your body so that you couldn't lay down, sit down, walk, or stand without being in severe pain?  That was Job.  Job was so desperate and suffering that he broke pottery and used the jagged pieces to scrape his blistered skin.  !!!  Wow!

Even in your greatest trials, have you had friends to comfort you?  Job didn't.  He had "friends" who didn't believe him.  They didn't comfort him or try to help.  They didn't bring food to his home and pray with/for him or put his name in the church bulletin to be recognized as one in need.  They didn't offer condolences or a listening ear.  They didn't offer to lend him their homes or their livelihoods.  They preached to/at him.  Even his wife was bitter and did not support him.

So, next time you are sad and going through devastation and someone says, "You're like Job," just thank God that you in fact are NOT like Job.  Your mourning during your loss is good and right and I am not intending to take away from your grief.  I am, however, trying to remind you that, even in our greatest suffering, we are still not experiencing loss the likes of which God's favored servant Job experienced.

Chapter 2 (Part 3)

Again, I know it's messy.  This is like the rough-rough-rough draft that you write while cleaning house and taking care of kids.  Hope it makes sense.

Brady picked another wildflower and started plucking off more petals.  She was way past playing the he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not game.  She knew he loved her.  She'd be more honest asking if she loved him.  She did, didn't she?  Love.  What was love?  Brady took in her surroundings and sighed blissfully at the beauty.  A village in the English countryside; so picturesque and perfect.  Green hills, some with sheep grazing; clusters of trees and clearings full of flowers.  It was absolutely a dream.  She mentally gave herself a pat on the back for choosing such a place for her wedding.

                Her wedding.  She'd felt sure of everything last night until...  She pushed the thought back and forced herself to conjure up a pretend Philip sitting beside her.  What would he say to her right now?  "Brady, we've been so worried about you."  She felt a little knot forming in her stomach.  Why did it bother her to think Philip was worried?  Isn't that what she'd wanted?  But, she felt nervous and...what was that other, foreign feeling?  Guilt!  She felt guilty for running out on her own wedding!  Why?  It was her wedding, after all.  And Philip's, said her conscience.  She knew she'd been foolish to run away, but he'd brought it on himself, right? 

                What would Fiona do, she asked herself for the hundredth time.  She mentally conjured up Fiona but literally waved her hand in front of her to dispel the image as soon as she'd pictured it because of the scowl on her imaginary Fiona's face.  She knew Fiona would be furious at her.  Fiona never ran away.  Fiona the strong; Fiona the honest; Fiona the better-than-everyone.  She wasn't jealous.  Brady knew she was more beautiful and had more popularity than her younger sister.  But for some reason, she'd seen Philip, on more than one occasion, looking at Fiona with an expression akin to worship.  Why didn't he worship Brady?!

                He told Brady he loved her.  And she believed him.  Of course he did.  But he didn't adore her.  Marrying someone who didn't adore her seemed like she was settling.  But she wanted Philip!  Didn't he realize how lucky he was?  Again, the question what would Fiona do popped into her mind.  She knew.  Fiona would pray.

                Brady had prayed on and off throughout her life but didn't see that it did any good.  She made her own blessings.  She believed in God and was faithful in her church attendance.  Her faith surely couldn't be questioned.  But God had made her beautiful and smart and talented, so surely He wanted her to use her gifts however she deemed best for her.  Right?  And what was best for right now?

                Brady thought back to her first date with Philip.  He'd come to the door of her apartment and, when she'd answered, he'd handed her a bouquet of flowers.  She'd literally laughed in his face and said she hadn't realized he was so old fashioned.  Instead of frowning and apologizing, like she'd half-expected him to do, he'd smiled and said, "Well, I am.  Do you have a vase for these?"  That had intrigued her.  A man with self-confidence.  It was almost a challenge.  After several months of dating she'd found herself wanting to please him.  She'd wanted his praise; something he only gave for certain things she did.  He wasn't generous with compliments about her appearance; a first for Brady.

                At first she'd been frustrated.  Didn't he realize the time and effort she put into her physical appearance?  There were beauty regimens, long-researched and put to use in order to maintain her perfect skin, glossy blonde hair, gleaming teeth, and super-model-thin figure!  He did occasionally tell her she looked nice.  Nice?  Her mother looked nice.  Fiona looked nice.  She was stunning!  But when he did praise her, she felt it to her very soul.  The first time had been when she'd helped the little girl in the shopping mall. 

                Philip and Brady had been shopping for Brady a new scarf when this young girl, about seven years old, had walked up to them.  She'd been crying and had looked Brady right in the eye.  One thing Brady Kenton could not ignore was a needy child.  The girl had become separated from mother and Brady and Philip had spent the next half-hour searching for her.  They'd found her and Brady was overwhelmed with the gratitude the distraught mother had bestowed upon her.  But even more exhilarating had been Philip's words.  "That was a very good thing you did for them.  I'm proud of you."

                The memory of the mother and daughter made her stomach knot up again.  Was anyone that concerned about her right now?  Would there be tears of rejoicing when she was found?  Somehow she doubted it.  No one ever really worried about her.  That's why she had to put so much energy into worrying about herself.  

Chapter 2 (part 2)

This is VERY rough...lower your expectations.  :)

This time it was he who smiled.  In a clear, British accent he asked, "Crud?  That's all you have to say after scaring a man half to death?"

                Fiona noticed his smile was not menacing.  He had straight, white teeth.  Surely someone with straight teeth was nice, right?  Why did she think that?  He certainly looked as if he could be dangerous.  He was unshaven and had a faded scar running beside his right eye.  Fiona caught herself thinking that he was quite attractive, then immediately felt guilty, as if she'd just been unfaithful to Philip.  His eyes seem to be laughing at her.  She couldn't make herself feel afraid of this man who held a gun.  She didn't return his smile but calmly said, "I'm looking for my sister.  Have you seen a woman?  Possibly in a wedding dress?"

                His smile remained but no longer reached his eyes as the stranger answered, "I have.  She's not here."

                "You have?!  When?  Was she okay?  Did she say anything?"  Fiona was surprised at her own mixture of relief and dread.  She hadn't realized how concerned she truly was for Brady's safety.

                The man held out his hand, the one without the gun, and said, "I'm Oliver."

                Fiona stared at his hand and then back at Oliver's face.  She felt anger surge up within her. "I'm not here to make your acquaintance!  I'm looking for my sister!"  What was wrong with this guy?  He's sitting in a dark corner of some shack in the woods but wants to shake hands and make friends?  Maybe she should in fact be very afraid of this man.  Had he harmed her sister?  Was he one of those psychos who killed women and buried them in his backyard?  In her exhausted mind, she had the thought that British men weren't psychopaths.  What was wrong with her?  Straight teeth?  British?  None of this made a difference; this man, whose muscles looked to be lethal weapons enough, was holding a gun and looking at her as if she was the very last person in the world he wanted to see.  And then he smiled again.  Stupid straight teeth.

                What's wrong with me, Oliver thought.  This green-eyed witch had barged in on him at a most dangerous moment and here he was, greeting her as if he was hosting a party.  Oliver lowered his hand and said, "I'm sorry.  Of course.  The American woman.  Yes.  Well, she was here and now she isn't.  I don't know where she's gone."

                Fiona took a deep breath.  Was he slow-witted or was he being deliberately obtuse?  She couldn't explain the logic of it but she just knew he wasn't a killer.  She knew she could trust him.  And she didn't have time to analyze it right now.  "What shape was she in when you saw her?  When did you see her?  Tell me something!" 

                Oliver noticed how the girl was shaking.  Woman, he mentally corrected himself.  She wasn't the young girl he'd originally thought when he'd first turned on the light.  She wasn't afraid.  She was fiercely angry.  Well, that was nothing to him.  He'd just as soon she be on her way so he could attend to the business he'd come here to do in the first place.

                He turned away from her and said, "She was here a few hours ago and she seemed in perfect health.  She asked to stay here for awhile and I refused her.  She became angry and stomped away in the direction of the Hollow.  That's all I know so I hope you too will kindly be on your way."

                Kindly be on my way?  Fiona didn't think much could make her angrier but those words sent her over the edge.  "HELP ME FIND MY SISTER, YOU IDIOT!  WHERE'S THE HOLLOW?!  HOW DO I GET THERE?"  She raked her fingers through her now unkempt hair.  She wanted to pull all of his hair out but forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down instead.

                He turned back to her and gave her a very confused look.  "I do apologize.  I hadn't realized you were actually concerned for her.  She seemed to be on some kind of playful errand in a game of hide-and-seek and I simply thought you were her finder.  Is she on the run then?  Wedding jitters and all that?"

                "Yes," Fiona said forcefully.  "Wedding jitters and all that!  Now where's this Hollow?"

                "Oh, yes," he said.  He reached around her and opened the door again.  His scent lingered near her and she felt an unexplainable urge to touch him.  To run her finger along that scar.  She didn't, of course, and wondered where in the world that impulse had even come from.  He gestured toward the open door and said, "I'll lead the way, shall I?"

                What was he doing?  Oliver Cast shouldn't care one whit whether or not these two American sisters found each other.  He certainly didn't have time to help them.  There was only one thing he wanted to do today and that was to kill the man that had ruined his life.  But, since he knew where the man was and had nothing but time, he guessed it wouldn't hurt to at least see to it that these two bothersome women were out of his way.

Chapter 2 (Part 1)

Since my mother told me to post more today, here's the first part of Chapter Two. :)

                Fiona knocked again.  The old door looked like it couldn't take much more knocking before falling in.  She tried the rusty doorknob and found it to be unlocked.  She walked into the musty room and let her eyes adjust to the darkness.  A shadow moved in the far corner.  A rat?  Fiona instinctively reached for her phone to use as a flashlight but remembered too late that she was still wearing her bridesmaid's gown.  Without pockets.  She didn't have anything on her at all.  Not a light and certainly not a weapon, should she need one.  She'd give anything to take back the promise she'd made Philip.  "I'll search every corner of the woods while you're searching the village."  Why?  Why hadn't she opted to search the village?  And why did Philip so readily agree to let her wander about alone in a strange area?

                Fiona was angry.  She was angry at Brady for catching Philip.  She was angry at Philip for being caught.  She was angry at Brady for convincing Philip to hold their wedding in this middle-of-nowhere English village just because she'd read about it in some book.  She drew upon her anger to cover her fear and stepped forward into the semi-darkness.  Whatever was moving in the corner stopped for a moment and then began moving again but this time slower.  It was rising.  Somewhere in Fiona's brain she registered that the creature was human.  There was a strange human rising and coming toward her., and she couldn't make herself breath, much less run.  "Oh, God!  Help!"  She silently prayed the urgent prayer of the panicked and then stood, waiting for the worst.

                The stranger came closer.  He raised his arm in the air and Fiona clenched her eyes shut.  "Make it quick, Lord, please," she begged silently.  She heard a click.  She waited.  Nothing.  Slowly, she opened her eyes.  It was bright.  He'd been reaching for the chain above and turned the light on.  That's all.  No danger.  She almost laughed out loud, but caught herself as the light hit a gleam off the pistol in his left hand.  "Crud," she said.

Fiction For Friends

Well, here's something.  This is a fluffy, romantic, silly story that I play with when I have writer's block from writing my real project. Please disregard typos and grammatical errors. Because this is my brain-candy piece, I don't bother with combing through it obsessively.  Enjoy....this is the first chapter.  Also, I'll be taking ideas for titles!

                She shouldn't have said it.  She shouldn't have said anything.  But she had.  And now she had to follow through.  What had been her motivation?  Impressing Philip or finding Brady?  A morning of questions, a burned-down barn, and now the bride was missing.  Well, she'd turn up.  She always had been a diva.  Brady Kenton would never stay missing long enough to actually worry people.  She'd show up at just the right time, giving everyone a thrill of relief, and assuring herself of at least a month's worth of attention.  And in the meantime, it was up to Fiona to pick up the pieces.  Fiona Kenton, sister to the diva,  was fed up.  As soon as Philip had shown up at the church that morning, Fiona had known something wasn't right.

                She'd left Brady at the inn knowing she wouldn't be missed amongst the oohing and aahing over her dress and hair and jewels and tried to beat everyone to the church that morning in hopes of some peace and quiet before the big event.  Philip had shown up only moments after her.  He'd found her sitting quietly in one of the middle church pews, head bowed, hands folded.  He'd stood silently still until he saw that she'd finished her prayer and then he quietly asked, "Everything alright?"

                Fiona had jumped slightly.  She'd been so caught up in her prayer and her thoughts that she'd almost forgotten her surroundings.  She'd looked up into Philip's beautiful blue eyes and said, "Yes.  Everything's wonderful.  Just praying for the happy couple."  Lie.  Lie.  Lie.  Well, she had been praying for them...to never get married.  To realize they were totally wrong for each other.  To part friends and encourage each other to move on.  To awaken to the reality that it was she, Fiona, who belonged with Philip Arber.  Philip Arber, handsome, successful, tender --

                "Fi, are you okay?  You look a little...dazed."  Philip had stepped closer and laid the back of his hand on Fiona's forehead.

                She jumped again.  To feel his touch.  To see the concern for her in his eyes.  She'd almost allowed a sigh of pleasure to escape her lips.  She'd shaken herself back to the moment at hand.  Philip's wedding .  Philip's and Brady's wedding.  She had backed away a little and said, "I'm just excited for the both of you.  Where's Brady?  Didn't she ride with you to the church?"  It had been just like her sister to insist on doing away with silly traditions like the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding.  They had planned to ride to the church together but Philip had arrived alone.

                Philip had looked questioningly at Fiona and asked, "She's not already here?  She left a note saying she came to the church early with you!"

                That was when Fiona's stomach had done a dive.  For the next three hours, as people arrived at the church, search parties were formed, phone calls were made, and the panicked chaos of a missing bride ensued.  Fiona had asked Philip to accompany her to the barn where they'd planned to hold the reception in hopes of finding Brady there.  When the two had gotten there, they found the place engulfed in flames.  Philip had completely broken down.  Fiona had called the authorities and after a thorough dousing and professional search, she had been assured there'd been no one inside the barn.  Wherever Brady was, it hadn't been in the church nor the barn.  And while everyone else was beside themselves with worry, Fiona could feel nothing but anger.

Interested?

If I were to be working on a piece of fiction, how many of you would want to read it?  Would you buy it?  I mean, do you read fiction?  Would you want me to blog the chapters?  I'm just throwing this out there.  I'm kind-of in a funk and writing fiction usually gets me right out.  So, I thought if I DID write something, maybe there's someone out there who'd like to peruse it.  :)

Short Sermon. :)

How many of you went to bed last night (Saturday) with the commitment of going to church?  How many of you followed through with it this morning?  If you did, GREAT JOB!!  If you didn't, THERE'S STILL TIME!!  And while you wait for the next church time to roll around, don't beat yourself up.  God is not as hard on you as you are on yourself!  And just because you missed service this morning doesn't make you a bad Christian.
Now, let's talk about how many you've missed.  Two Sundays?  Twenty?  Couple of years since you've been in a church pew?  Guess what...still not too late.  Go.  Just make yourself go ten times in a row (if at all possible) and then tell me how you feel.  Go ahead...start this evening!
You are LOVED!!

Resolving Resolution Relapse

Do you love making New Year's Resolutions?  Do you dread it?  Do you even do it?  I used to love it.  Then I dreaded it.  Then I considered not even doing it.  But then I realized something.  I'm the boss of it.  I'm the one deciding what the resolutions are so why can't I also decide when they take place?  Here's what I have discovered about myself.  When I begin making my list of resolutions, I get carried away.  I begin to even organizing resolution themes and sub-resolutions.  For example, "Get Organized"...well, that begs detail so I then list sub-resolutions under this resolution theme: "Bedroom, Shed, Drawers, Cabinets, etc..."  You see where this is going.  Overwhelming to say the least.  Overwhelming...stressful...impossible!  Before January 2nd, I'm already a failure.  Great way to start the year, yes?  Ugh!

So, I have tried the past few years to relax and stay general; "Lose Weight, Keep House Clean, More Family Time, Read Bible More, etc..."  But even this gets to be too much.  If I'm not a master at all of the above by the middle of February, I consider it all undo-able and give up.  (Y'all know I'm an extremist)  So how is it possible to have resolutions without setting myself up for disappointment?  How do I keep resolutions healthy and thriving throughout the year?

This year, I'm trying something new.  This is probably not a new idea to many of you.  I'm a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to self-improvement so I fully expect you to have a "duh!" reaction to my exciting revelation.  But here it is.  I first will make my list of resolutions.  I even allow myself to go crazy with it.  Don't stop at ten...or twenty...just write until I've mapped out the path to perfection.  Then, I prioritize.  If I could only achieve twenty-four of these things this year, what should those twenty-four be?  Then I prioritize again.  What, of the twenty-four, should be the first two?

I concentrate on only those two resolutions for the month of January.  February, I add two more.  March, two more.  See?  See how I'm taking baby-steps instead of demanding so much from myself right off the bat?  Is this how resolutions are being done around the world?  Am I the only one just now realizing the genius of this month-by-month concept?  Well, I don't mind.  I'm just excited to have stumbled onto the idea at all.  So, this month, January, the first of the twelve of 2014, I'm working on two resolutions: Spiritual and Health improvement.  I've only allowed two steps per resolution (Attend church every possible chance I get and read my Bible every day; Exercise at LEAST three times a week and make better food-choices).  That's it.  Reckon I can handle that?  We'll see.

At least I'm still feeling excited instead of stressed out already.  January is supposed to be a time of fresh renewal.  It is the "Monday" of the New Year.  It is that day we all begin anew.  I pray all of you press on with your self-improving and see yourselves as victors rather than failures.  We are in this New Year together.  Let's do this!