This I Know

A friend of mine, a Christian friend, has recently begun “talking to” a young man who considers himself a Deist (not okay FYI). Not knowing very much about this belief I Googled it. I was discussing this belief system with my roommate and her views on the subject. I was reading off a lists of “What Deists Believe” and “Are you a Deist?” to her and we were just baffled. How could someone believe that there is a supreme “being” that created us and the universe but then backed off to let nature run its course and not interfere?
My roommate is a music education major and a composer for our homecoming tradition. She is a very creative person. I knit. We established the fact that, in different ways, we create things. As creators of things we know how much time and energy it takes and how much of your heart goes into the things that you create. I have a very hard time knitting something for someone who isn’t going to take care of it. She has a hard time pouring her heart into her music and presenting it to people who aren’t going to at least try to appreciate it.
These things that we make, we love. If I can’t step away from a scarf and not care about how it’s treated; how could God make me and then just step away? A scarf does not have a personality. It does not have thoughts, and ideas, and emotions, and dreams.
I do.
Psalm 139:13 tells us that God created us, but more than that, he knew us, before even our mothers did.
I grew up in church, singing "Jesus Loves Me" and learning the signs for Jesus and Love. I watched as my parents would take communion and I cried the first time I was allowed to take that little piece of cracker and that tiny cup of grape juice. There has not been a time in my life that I haven’t known of God’s great and powerful love. I have had great joy in my life and known that God was there. I have had great sorrow, and as angry and hurt as I was; still, I knew God was there. How bleak it must be for someone to not know and experience the love of God. How sad and lonely they must be, when all they have to depend on are themselves.
When their only hope is in their own weakness, their imperfection; where does joy come from?

Trial by fire

I bought a pair of boots yesterday, along with a Pumpkin Spice Latte. I thought it was a fitting way to welcome Fall even if the weather doesn’t feel like it. The boots I bought are knee high, no heel, gray boots. I have deemed them my “trial boots” because I need to know if I actually like boots, or I just like the idea of them. I found this wonderful pair of red knee high boots online, the problem is, they cost no less than $170. Not bad for a pair of leather boots, but much more than I can afford myself: hence the trial boots. You see, I tend to love the idea of something more than the actual something; case in point-layered shirts. I love the look of shirts that are layered upon one another, I however, can never seem to get the layer look just right. I’m always fidgeting with the shirts, whether under or over, pulling at straps and hems and fidgeting the day away. I also tend to get far to hot when wearing layers of clothes. I can handle two shirts OK, if they are necessary and not too thick, but anything else and I feel like a middle aged woman going through “the change.”
So, back to boots; these marvelous red boots that cost oh so much are my dream boots. I plan on asking for them for Christmas if the trial boots seem to be worn enough to warrant a new pair of cooler, redder boots. Sad thing is, I haven’t been able to wear them yet, as, the weather is just too warm for knee high boots. So, fingers crossed that the weather gets that autumn chill soon and I can pull out, and pull on the boots.
Bring on the fall!

Bumped my head, and I went to bed...

It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring”

This entire past week has been one rainy, muggy, nightmare here in central AL. Today our campus shut down because of all of the flooding.
Except for the thunder (which I described to David today as “thunder bursts”) it reminds me of living in Washington. We moved to Ft. Lewis WA when I was 7 (well, 7 ½ to be exact) and lived there until the summer I turned 9. Ft. Lewis just a short distance from Seattle, near Puget Sound. As most people know, it rains 9 months out of the year in this part of the country. During this rainy time of year, the weather man would announce at what time of day we could expect to have a “sun break.” During these time of sun, when the rays of sunlight would break through the clouds, people would emerge from their dwellings, their offices, the sidewalks would become crowded with people who would just turn their faces toward the sky and let the warmth of the sun wash over them.
This memory has always made me laugh, living in a part of the county since then (South FL and AL) that never has a lack of sunlight. Today I’ve been thinking about this a lot and how it’s such an analogy of what our relationship with Christ is like.
During the dark and rainy seasons of our lives, the Son will always be there. We simply must leave the comfort zone, where we are warm and dry, yet miserable. We need to seek out the Son and turn our faces towards His warmth. Turn our hearts to Him to fill with love and comfort. Comfort that we cannot find from a comfy couch and our favorite blanket.

A story about stories

First off, I found a picture of the formerly mentioned red riding boots, if you a curious (or you know, wanting to find the perfect gift for me) here is the link: http://theblackapple.typepad.com/somegirlswander/2008/10/perfect-red-boo.html

As alluded to by my previous blog entry I view this blog as a place for my many-often unappreciated-stories to live. It seems that I always have a story to contribute to conversations or rants no mater their subject area. Those I love have come to tolerate, and I think love, my stories; those who are just beginning to know me tend to find them bothersome. I can't really help it though. I know my pragmatics and because of this, I know that it is acceptable to contribute to social situations in such a way.

My stories are my memories. Many of them come from times when I was younger; things that made me happy or that had a significant impact on me in some way. Some of them are just a few short sentences. Some of them are lengthy or require background information. I very rarely share the sad stories, though I do have them. I find joy in telling these stories to the people I know and love. It connects me to them in a deeper less superficial way.

I think that you can tell a lot about a person by what they share. So here it is world. Here is my heart.

A place for my stories

I decided to create this blog as a place for me to put my many stories. I will begin with one that gave me the title for this blog.

From the time I can remember, I’ve always loved red cowboy boots, more specifically, red ropers (which is boot that has a lower hill, a more rounded toe and they don’t go as far up the leg). I had at least three pairs of these growing up; and yet, I still never seemed to get my fill of them. This fascination with red ropers dissipated over the years, at least consciously.

Several years ago I bought a pair of red heels. These quickly became my favorite shoe and I found every reason to wear them. But I never really thought about why I love these shoes so much, I just love them.

Tonight I realized and remembered my fascination. I was at the Ten out of Tenn concert at Workplay (highly recommended). Ashley Monroe came on stage wearing red riding boots. I suddenly remembered how much I loved red boots!

The thought of red boots, and my past red ropers, filled me with such a great joy! I want that joy that comes from putting on shoes that make me feel like I can do anything. I want to experience that joy that come from putting on a new pair of shoes that give you some sort of mystical power. I want a pair of red ropers (well, riding boots would be nice too).