Monday Night

This morning I woke up and (Rachel Zoe-ism alert) felt like a truck had LITERALLY run over me. At some point in the night the plague settled into my head and my chest, so I’ve spent most of the day either blowing my nose or trying to cough up a lung. I’ve also spent a considerable amount of time watching clips from old Mississippi State football games on the YouTube, but that was mainly to distract me from reaching for some sort of anvil in order to alleviate the blinding sinus pain and pressure. Some people like to watch chick flicks when they’re sick; I, on the other hand, prefer a sassy pick-six or a particularly powerful quarterback sack.

As I have often mentioned, I am a delicate flower.

Mama and Daddy drove over yesterday so they could spend Labor Day with us, and their plan was to leave this afternoon and drive home. The weather has been really nasty all day, though – something like six and a half inches of rain in the last 24 hours – and the flash floods and downed trees dictated that they spend one more night with us instead of trying to navigate the less-than-ideal driving conditions. Fortunately we still have power at our house, but it is pitch black dark all around us. There are lots of people without electricity in our neck of the woods.

It’s been strange to sit here and listen to today’s seemingly endless rain, mainly because I know that the folks in Texas would give just about anything to have had even a fraction of it. Off and on I’ve found myself praying, “Lord, send this rain west – just send it west” – because we’ve had such an over-abundance of it and Texas has such a desperate need for it. But the rain just keeps pouring here, sitting on top of ground that’s far too soaked to absorb anything else, and the fires keep burning in Texas, blazing a trail across land that, at this point, is basically acre upon acre of kindling.

So tonight, as the rain continues to beat against the trees, I’m reminded to pray for the people in Texas. I’d love it if you’d join me. Because even though we can’t send the rain to Texas, we know the One who can.

Have a good Tuesday, everybody.


A few days ago I read something that prompted me to to look up this verse:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.” – Isaiah 43:19 (ESV)

Then I looked at The Message translation (and remember, every time you look up a passage in The Message, the ESV totally rolls its eyes).

“This is what God says,
the God who builds a road right through the ocean,
who carves a path through pounding waves,
The God who summons horses and chariots and armies—
they lie down and then can’t get up;
they’re snuffed out like so many candles:
‘Forget about what’s happened;
don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?
There it is! I’m making a road through the desert,
rivers in the badlands.'”

I couldn’t help but think about all the times when I’ve read this verse (no matter the translation) and been encouraged to stay the course, to trust that God is working in and through my circumstances.

And for a split-second I considered how strange it is that one verse – one little bitty verse – has been so consistently comforting to me.

But then I thought:

Well, that’s because He’s always doing a new thing.

Even when we’ve messed up so badly that we feel haunted – and sometimes taunted – by regret.

He’s always doing a new thing.

Even when relationships seem distant and strained and tense.

He’s always doing a new thing.

Even when sadness and hopelessness threaten to overwhelm us.

He’s always doing a new thing.

Even when we’re frustrated by all the stuff that we just don’t understand.

He’s always doing a new thing.



Summer Sky

We search the starlit Milky Way,
A million worlds in rhythmic sway,
Yet in our blindness some will say,
“There is no God controlling!”

But as I grope from sphere to sphere,
New wonders crowd the eye, the ear,
And faith grows firmer every year:
“My God is there, controlling!”

We probe the atoms for their cause,
Explore the earth for nature’s laws,
Yet seldom in our searching pause
To think of God controlling.

Each flash of fact from out the night,
Each burst of truth upon my sight
That quickens awe or adds delight,
Reveals my God controlling.

– William Watkins Reid

Even Yet More Deeply Still Than Before – Again

So this past weekend in Louisville? At Deeper Still?

It was just the sweetest time.

I was going to write about it Sunday afternoon when I got home, but apparently I needed many uninterrupted hours to watch the Bulldogs in their final super regional baseball game and also nap. Then my two fellas returned from a little father-son weekend trip, and I had a fun time catching up with them and hearing all about their adventures. Today I just wanted to hang out at home and catch up on a few errands, but I haven’t really been in writing mode. However, I’ve definitely been in “Say Yes To The Dress” mode.

So there’s that.

We really did have big fun in Louisville, and I’ll have you know that Melanie and I completely avoided bad Mexican food on this particular trip. I’d like to think that it’s because we’re growing in wisdom about our dining choices, but mainly it’s because we were at Freedom Hall most of the time and the options were fairly limited. And let’s face it: if there had been a sign over a concession stand that said, “Below Average Mexican Food Served Here,” we’d have pulled out our wallets, forked over some cash and enjoyed some astonishingly subpar beef-type product wrapped up in something pretending to be a tortilla and covered with an orange-y substance that was posing as cheese.


Friday morning we both worked at the arena (we were there to do bloggy stuff and also to help with the event). I had high hopes that since Louisville is farther north than Birmingham it would be somewhat cooler, but unfortunately that was not the case at all. It was approximately 155 degrees early Friday afternoon, though certainly I could be overestimating. I’m sure it was much cooler in the shade – a breezy 132 degrees, perhaps. I do know for sure that when they opened the doors for Deeper Still late Friday afternoon, the place where I was standing in the concourse felt like someone had opened the doors of a hundred 400 degree ovens at the same time. It was warm.

Two big Friday night highlights were 1) getting to catch up with some bloggy friends before the event started and 2) getting to hear a new worship song that Travis has written with a friend of his. It’s called “The Word of God Has Spoken,” and I am of the opinion that it is absolutely incredible. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since we sang it Friday night, and that is fine by me because I kind of like having it in my head all the time. You can hear it if you watch the Deeper Still video re-cap, and I think you’ll love it.

My third favorite thing about Friday night (and obviously I’m dealing with personal stuff here; Melanie and I will be dealing with the actual messages over the next week or so at AllAccess ) was that Angie and her friend Kelsey came up to our room about 10:30 Friday night, and y’all, I really can’t remember the last time I laughed that much. There was one point when everybody was laughing so hard that no one was making a sound, and IT MADE ME SO HAPPY. One of my favorite memories ever.

Saturday was chock-full-o-Deeper-Still-goodness. Beth Moore and Priscilla Shirer spoke Saturday (both were excellent, as always), and I would just like to say that the toned state of Priscilla’s arms is an inspiration to women everywhere (if you were there you TOTALLY know what I’m talking about). She has such a great sense of style and always looks so effortlessly beautiful, but I am here to tell you that her arms are a revelation. Clearly she has the Lord’s favor because 1) she’s a gifted, articulate teacher and 2) THOSE ARMS. Sweet mercy.

Saturday night Melanie and I had dinner with a bunch of sweet friends, and afterwards our buddy Paige and her friend Kristin came up to our room for LO, EVEN MORE LAUGHS. It was good times all the way around.

So now I’m home, and it’s exactly where I want and need to be. We have a wide open week in front of us – no VBS, no camps, no anything, really – and I’m tickled to pieces about that. I’m hoping to get some writing done for Ye Olde E-book this week, so I may be a little scarce around here. Or I may be here an obnoxious amount. There’s just not a bit of telling.

Hope y’all had a great weekend!

A Good, Sweet, Long Life

I just wanted to let y’all know that Sissie passed away last night. She was 101.

We are so grateful for her life and her legacy.

And more than anything else, we’re so happy that she’s Home.

A Lesson From The Light

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling a smidge overwhelmed.

Yes, I know it was Easter. I was – and am – beyond grateful for that. Thankfully the wonder of the day wasn’t lost on me, but some obligations and responsibilites and whathaveyous popped to the front of my mind as soon as my eyes opened. And do you know what I did? I let those obligations and responsibilities and whathaveyous derail me before my feet had even hit the floor.

(Stupid human-ness.)

(It REALLY gets on my nerves sometimes.)

Since our little family was helping with some stuff at church pretty early Sunday morning, the boys left the house a few minutes before I did so that they could run by Starbucks. I finished loading my car with everything I needed, and by the time I pulled out of the driveway, my mood was somewhere between ick and blah. The stresses of the previous three or four days seemed to catch up with me in one fell swoop, and while I was looking forward to worship, I wasn’t looking forward to putting on some sort of fake smile-y face AT ALL.

(You had no idea I was going to be such a giant dose of cheerfulness today, now did you?)

(Please know that our regularly scheduled happy fun times will return within the next 24 hours.)

I was about a mile from church when a red light forced me to stop at a big, (typically) busy intersection, and when I quit thinking about the to-do list in my head long enough to notice what was in front of me, I couldn’t help but stare.

And the more I stared, the more I smiled. Because the Lord preached a mighty timely sermon to me right there on the edge of Brook Highland Parkway.

Oh my goodness. It was such a sweet reminder that no matter how we feel, no matter how we hurt, no matter how we wrestle and wrangle and worry, we can count on a very real truth in the midst of our day-to-day challenges:

The Light always breaks through the gray.


And while yes, the gray might hover over our circumstances from time to time, the gray won’t stick around forever. The gray can’t stick around forever.


Because the Light won’t let it.

And it’s good to remember that. Not only at Easter.

But every single day.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:1-5