this is good.

Reading over old blog posts yesterday, I realized that at the beginning of 2010, I was planning to move to Omaha in the fall.  I had made the decision to go to college there, in the city where my older sister lived, only two hours from my family.

Funny how God works, huh?  At present, I am in Michigan, thirteen hours from home.  Every person I know here I have only known for a month.  It seems odd to me that nine months ago, I was so sure where I would be at the beginning of the school year: I wrote, "[Grace University is] where I will be a full time freshman next fall."  When the idea of Hillsdale came up, I applied, and was miraculously accepted.  I didn't know what to do--Hillsdale sounded like a great school, but at the same time, I didn't want to leave the state. Omaha would have been the perfect location.  Finally, I figuratively shrugged my shoulders and did a bit of an engine-engine-number-nine move.

May I just say: God is alive and involved.  Hillsdale is...perfect.  I am in the hardest place I have ever been, dealing with the toughest issues I have ever faced, but it is rewarding.  The struggle brings triumph.  The bad grade brings determination.  The feeling of being constantly overwhelmed brings loss of power and gain of trust.  Slowly, I am making friends, learning a routine, and finding a niche.  Quickly, I am changing.  And I'm happy.

someone bigger

I have been at college for one month.  In this one month I have been frustrated, stretched, annoyed, and challenged more than I have in the past year.  I haven't been blissfully happy more than twice, and I have been lonelier than ever before.  I have also been obnoxious, rude, loud, and insensitive.  Consequently, I have 2 Timothy 2:13 written everywhere:

If we are faithless, He remains faithful. He cannot disown Himself.   

Being in this place has revealed all the wads of faithlessness I've always had but never before encountered.  All of the people here who have spent more than an hour with me have discovered many flaws - I'm not very good at hiding them.  Tonight, my inconsistencies and discrepancies were screaming at me.  I was sitting in a classroom attempting to read The Odyssey, but I kept getting distracted by what a loser I was and how much I wished I were home where everything is easy.  Finally I jumped up, grabbed some chalk, and scrawled across the chalk board: "The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Jesus Christ" (1 Timothy 1:14).  Every time my mind began to wander from cannibalistic cyclops' and nymphs with braided hair back to my bad day, I glanced up at the chalk board, and slowly, almost as slowly as one learns to appreciate The Odyssey, my mood shifted.  I'm not sure how, but simply looking at the words "The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly" adjusted my eyes from looking inward to looking upward.  I jumped up, walked into the neighboring classroom where two of my friends were studying, and said, "Have you guys read 2 Timothy 2:13?!"  One of them looked at me quizzically and the other asked me what was wrong this time.  I emphatically replied that nothing was wrong; in fact, everything was all right because the ugly mess called Erica was of no consequence!  There was no need to focus on any of my failings, because no matter how many times I am faithless, He remains faithful! Over, and over, and over again I drop the ball, and yet none of that bears any weight on how I am loved by God!

What a thought!  It makes me want to jump up and shout!  There is someone bigger than I--someone who does not base His love for me on my love for Him.  What liberation!

Tonight, I am happy.  I am intensely human, but God is interested in me regardless.  He is drawing me closer to Him, and slowly, I hope, I will change.  All I want now is to know God--to know the One who looks beyond my fallibility and sees potential.  A lot of the time I am cynical and don't see that potential, but it must be there, for the simply reason that I am loved by God.

(Contrary to how I may sound, there are some great things about being in college, and I am so glad to be here.  I want to tell you about them sometime!)

losing dorothy.

(Over a month ago, I wrote a little bit on facebook about Dorothy. Perhaps I am seeming redundant or even pathetic, but this lady meant so much to me that I can't really help myself...)

On one of the fine evenings we had this summer, my dad hooked his team of Belgian draft horses to the wagon, my family piled in, and we set off down the gravel road.  Five blissful miles later we were almost home, the sun had set, and the blue of the sky was slowly getting deeper and deeper.  I didn't notice the first star begin its nightly shine, but my sister pointed it out: "there's the first star!"

I looked up, glanced over at my other sister, and muttered, "That's the star."  As my sister looked at me sympathetically, I let out an "aaaagh!!" a little too loudly, and covered my face with my hand.  I sat this way for several minutes, my tears slowly finding their way down my cheeks.  In the back of my mind I was thinking, "Erica. Pull yourself together.  Your family is wondering what the heck is wrong with you."  But even as I willed myself to stop crying, a few more tears would inconveniently swim out my eyes and down my face.

That star. Every time I see that star (or perhaps more correctly - planet?), I will think of Dorothy, one of the residents at the nursing home where I worked. It is the brightest one in the sky, the first one to show itself every evening.  It sits off towards the west, which just happens to be the side of Dorothy's room which has a window.  One evening, Dorothy put on her call light, and coming into her room, I found that she didn't need anything in particular, but just wanted a little company.  I sat down on the edge of her bed, not having much to say, but enjoying a few quiet moments with this lady I had come to love.  She asked me to open her curtains, which seemed odd, since most residents ask me to close their curtains at night.  I obliged.  There was that star, taking all the attention away from all the other stars.  As we sat there together in the quiet, Dorothy opened up.  "I watch that star rise every night.  I pretend it is my husband, Tony."  Here she chokes a little.  Here I desperately hope none of my coworkers come into her room, as I can feel myself choking up as well.  She continues, "I miss him so much.  I haven't seen him for so long."  I sniffle and say, "Oh, Dorothy, you're making me cry."  Of course, her reply is gracious: "I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to."

Today, Dorothy is with Tony.  It was hard to watch her slip away, but at the same time, I was glad for her.  Over the past two years, I had watched Dorothy on good days and bad days, happy and sad.  She was content, but always read to say goodbye to the full and beautiful life she had lived.

I miss you Dorothy.

June 6, 1944

It's not Independence Day, it's not Memorial Day, and it's not Thanksgiving. But today, I am thankful--and kinda proud--to be an American. 

"sometimes finding You...

...is just like trying to smell the color 9. And nine's not a color. And even if it were you can't smell a color. That's my point exactly."

"I would take no for an answer just to know I heard you speak."

The Notebook

*GAG!!*

Ok. Onto my review of Nicholas Sparks' book The Notebook. On a five-star scale, I rate it at ONE. Yeah. I was underwhelmed, to put it mildly.

Briefly, The Notebook is a not-so-epic, attempted-romance-novel gone wrong. By "not-so-epic," I mean simply that it's...well, lame. I think Sparks was aiming for a partially tragic, laugh-and-cry-at-all-the-right-places, unbelievably true, melt-your-heart love story. I felt more like I was reading what is known around here as a 'trashy romance novel.' The story was ho-hum, and the writing didn't exactly wow me.

The story is told from the perspective of Noah, who fell in love with a girl one summer when he was seventeen, and then didn't see her again for fourteen years. As a 29-year-0ld, engaged, well-to-do young lady, his past love looks him up and they spend two days together realizing that time couldn't stop the power of love, that they still had feelings for each other, etc. upon lame etc. It could be a cute story, but it revolves entirely around desire and what "feels good." It is totally acceptable and even condoned when they have a passionate evening at his house when she's stuck there because of a thunderstorm. Did I mention this gal is engaged? Not only is the story soaked with indecent actions, but it also gets much too graphic about said actions.

Don't misunderstand me, I am in no way bashing romance or amore or whatever it is. (I didn't meet my true love when I was seventeen -although I still have a few months! - so I wouldn't know.) But getting caught up in a fictitious, lucid novel about two people sinning (let's just call a spade a spade here) is not healthy, in my opinion. I think I would be much better off using my time more wisely - there are multitudes of wholesome, delightful books out there. (Ask me if you want a list. :)

And you? Have you read The Notebook or watched the movie? What do you think?

(P.S. I didn't even finish it.)

(P.S. 2 I just today realized why the movie Nights in Rodanthe, which I watched on the flight from San Diego to Kansas City, was so darn bad. It's based on a Nicholas Sparks novel!! Stay away from Nights in Rodanthe!!)

Always - continuously; without exception.

Philippians 4:4 hit me like a spanking spoon today. Let me explain.

My job is not exactly what I would call fun. In fact, about 75% of the time, it is more 'blah' than 'fun.' It can also be extremely frustrating and tiring. I walked into work today, took once glance at the daily schedule, and immediately started griping. Complaining about coworkers. Grumbling about residents. Rolling my eyes at this or that. It's like I go into automatic grumble-mode when I get to work.

Then, about halfway through my shift, Philippians 4:4 jumped into my mind. And I quote:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

*cough* !! *cough* !!

Ummm....right. "Rejoice. Always." And he repeated himself. I've heard that verse a trillion times, but it really hit home today. Like, "Erica!! Wake up!! What are you doing?!"

But why shouldn't I complain? After all, it wasn't fair. It wasn't going to be any fun. And why did it have to be me?? You get the drift. As much as it might've looked to my eyes like I had reason to gripe, there are two simple reasons why I think it is essential for me to cut the complaining.

1. Complaining is simply being ungrateful. Being ungrateful is simply saying that you aren't happy with what God is doing and you think you know a better way. Don't go there. Obviously it is not a good place to be.

2. Complaining drags you down. Because of my personality, I tend to look at a half-empty cup and react, and it's very easy for me to stay in that downward spiral. It's difficult for me to look at that same cup and say "hey! Here is an opportunity for me to overcome my negative tendencies and give thanks!"

It's massively difficult, but that is what I want to do. That's how I want to train myself to be. I so want to have such a mindset of thankfulness, that when I look at a situation, no matter how unpleasant it may seem, I can rejoice that I have an opportunity to bring life and JOY.

Always.

on snuggies and Hitchcock

I have a lovely post created in my mind...a post full of pictures chronicling my adventures in Texas. Unfortunately, all of my lovely pictures for said post are on our laptop and, shock of all shocks, it's dead. Thus, my lovely post will have to wait.

Being as I finished reading my book at 1 am and our departure is scheduled for 5, I determined it would be wiser to stay up instead of sleeping for two and half hours and waking up disgruntled with achey eyes. I hate those achey eyes you get when you haven't had your full measure of sleep. Two and half hours is definitely not my full measure of sleep.

So here I am. And instead of the perfect little post I had planned, I am simply writing. It seems a fitting thing to do at 1 am in the grandparents' drafty old mansion. It is so cold in this den that out of sheer desperation, I have stooped to one of the lower realms I will ever stoop to in my life. I am wearing a snuggie. And yes, you read that right. A snuggie. Did I mention that it is very, very cold in this house? Please don't hold it against me. Sometimes certain situations make people do things...

Two nights ago we watched Rope. All I had to hear were the names Alfred Hitchcock and Jimmy Stewart, and I had the remote in one hand and hot chocolate in the other. (One needs hot chocolate in the vain attempt to stay warm in this house.) Jimmy Stewart, by definition, did not disappoint. Alfred, on the other hand did not do his best work in the creation of Rope. In the very first scene you observe young-and-in-love Tom get strangled. He is then directly stuffed into a chest, which serves as the supper table for the party hosted by the killers that evening. I usually cotton to creepy movies like Hitchcock, but with all the adjectives I have used to describe the grandparents' house, I have yet to use eerie. I will do so directly. The grandparents' house is eerie late at night. Did I mention we just finished watching a suspenseful and frightening movie, and all of the family had gone to bed while I finished editing some pictures? So here I am in this drafty, old, eerie house, with all of the lights out. I dash up the stairs with my heart pounding, grab my pajamas, and then begin the quest. You see, our bedroom is at one end of a very long, bookshelf-lined, black-as-night hallway. The bathroom is at the other end. There are plenty of places along the way for a menace to hide with a piece of rope, just waiting for poor, very-much-suspecting me to walk past.

And yet, here I am to tell about it. Although I'm sure I lost several years off of my life that night, at least I'm still alive, right?

thankful

Components of a good day:

• Early morning encouragement.
• Meeting a homeschool graduate who works for GU on my way to class. (!!!)
• A pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks with Mom.
• A phone call from a sister I really miss, in which we laughed heartily at my suggestion that the rest of our family had been whisked away, considering none of them were answering their phones and it is, after all, Halloween week...(what can I say? My Spanish teacher spent the entire class period telling us ghost stories!)
• A high school football playoff game. Go Scouts!
• Driving rain. I hate that piddly, pipsqueak, wanna-be-rain drizzle that we so often have. If it's going to rain, let it be the real deal. I love rain that requires you to put your wipers on full blast.
• Freedom to laugh.

focus

It's a dreadful phone picture, but these are red glasses that I drew on my hand this morning. I got the idea from my mom, who used to draw a pair of glasses on her hand every single day. Why?

Every time I glance down at my hand today, I will remember to ask the question: "where is my focus?" As humans, our thoughts are continually flitting this way and that, with little focus. Or, we tend to focus on the negative. (At least I do!) Instead of telling our minds what to think, we listen to whatever our minds happen to be thinking. Today, I want to be aware of what I am focusing on, and I want to focus on what is pure and good and moves me forward instead of holding me back.

"Focus on your potential, instead of your limitations." -Alan Loy McGinnis

tonight's thoughts

(Preface: Tonight, I am simply blogging about what is on my mind. Take it or leave it. Like it or hate it. Like me or hate me for it. But please don't misunderstand me.)

When I was younger, I always wanted to be a bit of a rebel. I naively believed that I was like everyone else, and I didn't want to fit in with the masses - I wanted to be different. I wanted to stand out. Then, I got a job and started going to a school (versus being homeschooled), and I realized how peculiar I really am.

I have yet to figure out if I like it. The sensible side of me is saying "It's cool, Erica. You know you don't want to be another average-josephine. It's good to be different. Relish it." The lonely side of me says "They think you're weird. Who wants to be weird? It's not fun to say 'well, actually, I'm not much of a partier.' That makes you weird. You don't fit in." ('Cause I really don't.)

Not only are you automatically a weirdo, but you're instantly alone. People are perpetually inquisitive, and ask us "soo...do you have any social life? Do you have any friends?" We inwardly roll our eyes and outwardly explain that we do indeed have friends, and we do know how to socialize.

But even as I roll my eyes, I see a measure of truth in their words. Sure, I have friends. One lives in Wisconsin, another in Oklahoma. I have a few scattered here-and-there around Nebraska. But do I have a good friend I can call up spur-of-the-moment and say "hey, let's go to a movie!" or "hey, come over tonight; I'm bored"? No. I don't.

Sometimes I think that if I would tweak my ideals, I would have multitudes of friends. Friends right here where I live. Maybe if I cussed a little...maybe if I wore spaghetti straps and mini skirts. Ooh! A boyfriend would help! Maybe if I quit being so picky about what media I take in. It's tempting. Honestly. One of these days I'm going to go to one of these parties I hear about, just to see what it's like. One of these days maybe I'll watch a movie that is indecent and gross, and then I'll regret it. Maybe that's what it will take for me to realize that I truly don't want to blend in.

I know some awesome people who don't think the same way I do. I don't want to bash people that have a different lifestyle than I. But, as much as I wish it wasn't so, we can't seem to mix. The two worlds collide, and I'm not convinced they're comaptible. So, I cling to the hope that there really are other weird people like me, hidden deep in some crevice of this county, and someday I will find them and no longer feel alone.

I'm doubtful.

on profanity

In our culture, profane words are tossed around like a frisbee at a park. No one thinks twice about what the word implies, or what effect it might have. Such is the case both at my work and school. The f-word is a staple in everyone's vocabulary - an adjective used almost as frequently as any other.

Naturally, if you hear something regularly, it begins to invade your thoughts. What I think tends to spill out my mouth. Ah, I tone it down a bit. Nothing major. Just a bit of dabbling here and there. No biggie.

Or so I thought. But my sojourn in the land of colorful language is now over, and I have come to an unforunate conclusion. It is simply this: I have never heard a positive word of profanity. Yeah, inserting a colorful word here and there definitely adds force and distinction to whatever I am trying to communicate - but what message am I sending? Positive, or negative? Joy, or discontentment? Life, or death?

There are two different ways I've heard profanity used. The first is simply inserting some vulgarity, if you will, as a coloful adjective. Example: "My freaking (or thereabouts) cell phone is ringing!" I am still puzzling over why people do this. Yeah, it can be funny, but it seems useless to add profanity in such examples. Why bother? Pointless. And, personally, not worth it.

On the flip side, sometimes I really need to express my anger. I need to let it out - blow off steam, so it doesn't eat me up inside. Expressing how I truly feel about something, vulgarities and all, often seems to dispel some of my frustration. But...I wonder if there is a more productive way to handle anger. I wonder if cussing when something goes wrong perhaps feeds the fire, rather than dispelling it. I haven't tested this hypothesis much, so it is just that - a hypothesis. Perhaps you will hear more about this aspect later. =)

I want to be a person full of grace and kindness. Somone who is a joy to be around - who brings life into the place where I am. Not only that, I want to like being around myself! In my experience, I have found that negativizing never makes me happy.

I'm beginning to sense that profanity is never a blessing, so what's the gain?

No gain.

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.

ephesians 6/29

Thoughts? Comments? Constructive criticism?

Romans 7:14-21

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do...As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.

So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?

Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Romans 7:14-21

17 today

Today I am seventeen. There are an abundance of thoughts about the last year swirling around in my head, but I am struggling to string them out on paper in a comprehensable way. I would love nothing better than to produce a wonderful, well-written post summarizing the last year, but that's a bit of a joke...I need to take English Composition this fall...anywho!

I am of the opinion that I have changed more between this birthday and the last than between any other two birthdays. So much has happened inside of me since August 7, 2008. I try to remember exactly who I was a year ago, and that girl is a far cry from who I am today. Thank goodness, huh?

A year ago today I was a Christian because that was the belief my parents had instilled in me since the day I was born. Today, I am a Christian because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is real and loving and came to earth as a man to pay the price that a just God demands for my sin. Not because someone said so, or because I don't know any differet; I know it for myself now! And not only that, but I'm also excited about who God is and how I fit in! I'm thrilled. I am ecstatic about what Jesus has done for me and who he is making me. So happy I wanna burst. =)

A year ago I thought I had to be perfect. Every night I would get in bed and every thing I had done wrong that day would pop up in my head. I would feel guilty and bad and think 'when will I ever overcome these things?' Today, I know that there truly is "no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus." That idea is no longer just words on a page. It's real and true and I can cling to that promise every day. Talk about exciting. I have realized this simple truth: We don't become perfect so that we can know God. We know God and he changes us. A landslide of freedom and joy comes with realizing that bit of truth.

On another note, in the past year I began working at my first job outside of our farm. What an experience. =) It has been unpleasant and grinding at times, but there has been much reward. I am learning to love people that drive me insane. I am learning to be who I am no matter how weird it makes me look. I am learning to simply say what I think, even when I'm scared that people will frown on me. I am learning that God is not about the law, but that he is all about love. Work has been one of the biggest challenges of the last year, but it's worth it.

Sixteen was a hard year. A lot of sixteen was filled with frustration and disgust. But anger brought change. Change is hard, but change is good. Sixteen stretched me and changed me, and I am so thankful for that.

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness
could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!"

Galations 2:20-21

My heart is full of thanks today. Thank you, Mom & Dad. Thank you for loving me even when I have a feeling you wanted to slap me upside the head. I know we still don't see eye to eye on everything, but I love you both. Thank you, Rachel, Audrey and Merrill. Thank you for letting me be who I am and putting up with me. You guys rock. =) Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for taking me just as I am and loving crazy, self-sufficient, hard, cowardly me. I love you back.


Thank you Aaron Shust for this amazing song. I love it. =)

(pictures obviously not by me)

On Beauty

The sidebar of a site I was on yesterday got me thinking...

Two words:

Who cares?

Two thoughts:

(First thought)

We are all made in the image of God. He designed and fashioned each one of us - we are all beautiful. Beauty isn't the perfect eyebrows or the right earrings or the skinniest waist or the boyfriend by your side. Yes, there is outward beauty, but beauty is also inside. I have a friend who has CP - she can't control her muscle movements and has been in a wheelchair all her life. She is beautiful. I know a little girl who has had leukemia multiple times. She is smaller than all the other girls her age and doesn't have much hair. She is beautiful, both inside and out.

(Second thought)

Where is our society's focus? Why are there even sidebars on webpages comparing one star's outward beauty to another's? In the whole scheme of things, it's not going to matter if Rihanna was more beautiful than Ciara (or vice-versa).

I'm not dissing outward beauty. I don't think it's wrong to want to be beautiful - to have pretty clothes, or wear makeup, or fix your hair just so - those can be good things! But our perception of beauty today is so awry that we shy away from my beautiful friend with CP and scream and yell for Rihanna. It's hard to flourish in a society that puts so much more emphasis on outward beauty rather than inward, and that's frustrating to me. Can't we just be who we are, without worrying about the pressure and the ideals society has put before us?

Okay, I'm done ranting. =) What do you think?

You can watch another relevant and very interesting video here.

song thoughts1

We will never know the awesome power
Of the grace of god
Until we let ourselves get swept away
Into this holy flood.

It's true.

I wish I would dive in - sink or swim. Win or lose. Live or die. And yet my stupid self is constantly holding me down. I'm afraid I haven't an inkling of what it must be like to get swept into that holy flood, so I am simply content with barely dipping my toes over the edge. But at the same time, I am not content with being content!

I’m diving in, I’m going deep in over my head,
I want to be
Caught in the rush,
lost in the flow, in over my head,
I want to go

Dive, Steven Curtis Chapman

God please sweep me into your holy flood, because I'm afraid I won't dive in on my own.

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Ephesians 3/16-19

growing up

When my sister moved away after high shcool, I was angry. My best friend of twelve years was moving halfway across the country, into a different world. A world I was excluded from entirely. I was angry with my sister, my parents, life, and God. Why couldn't we stay how we always were? Why did we have to grow up? Why did she have to move away? More than ever, I felt Jo March and I were akin.

Slowly, as the months and years passed, the anger abated. I came to realize this was just the way it was, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to reverse time, as much as I wanted to. My mom always told me that, even though a wonderful thing had ended, something else wonderful would start. My sister and I would always have a good relationship, no matter where we were. I found that extremely hard to believe. Gone were the days of bomb shelter on the bunk beds and buddy-buddies all day long, and nothing could be better than those things. Ever.

In the past month, I have had some of the most fun with my sisters ever. Mom was right. Even though it's not playing American Girl dolls or dollhouse every afternoon, we still have fun together. RK lives in Omaha, working and going to school. AC is in college and has a job, and I have a job. Time with all of us together is rare. We will never all sit down at the dining room table and bicker our way through morning school again. We will never set up an entire village of houses, playgrounds, and shops on the commons floor again. We will never again own check stores and banks, trading money like it was going out of style. Although that makes me sad, I've accepted it. The things we do have changed, but the relationships haven't. They are still strong and real.

The old is gone, and the new is here. Over Christmas break, we all stayed up watching creepy movies. Some friends went on vacation, and wanted my sister to house-sit. We all trooped over there and spent the night in a strange house - without Mom and Dad. It was fun. It was grown-up.

Life is always moving forward, while I trip along trying to catch up.

Pages are turning now
This is abundant life
The joy in the journey
Is enough to make a grown man cry

Andrew Peterson, Little Boy Heart Alive

thinking on things - part 2

Several years ago, the paper featured an article about a semi-local man who believed he was actually a woman - mistakenly placed in a man's body. I have always been a very sensitive person - perhaps even overly sensitive. I was scared at night way past when I should have been, and reading nasty things in the paper before bed sent me straight into my sister's room for the night. Reading this article was no exception. It creeped me out.

Several weeks later, we were in a Goodwill store, perusing the clothes. I looked up, and a couple of rows over was a person who was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a dress, and sporting long hair and makeup. I knew instantly it was the person I had read about in the paper. A weird feeling came over me, and I could not wait to get out of that store.

I mentioned in my last post that I had run across the blogger profile of a gay man. A couple of days later I watched a video where a gay man talked about why he left the army - he was being harrassed and ridiculed because of his transgender-ism.

This peculiarity seems to be popping up all over the place, so I have begun to think on it more. How do we, as Christians, react? Before thinking this through, I was of the opinion that homosexuality was one of the grosser things I had ever heard of. I still believe that. But I am not longer under the idea that we should wall off any contact with anything gay whatsoever. Homosexuals are human beings. Designed by God. Purposed by God. Made by God.

Loved by God.

The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.' But wisdom is proved right by her actions.

Matthew 11:19

But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

Matthew 9:13

If Jesus is our example, then there is no place for shunning people we disagree with, no matter how dramatic we think the sin.