gospel

kicking off Advent

/ abby hummel / 2 Comments

We’re celebrating the first Sunday of Advent this evening! I haven’t been able to work up the energy to think about doing the usual Christmas decorating, but I’ve had fun planning some new traditions for Advent. This season is all about joyful patience and anticipation, celebrating both those who waited for Jesus’ birth and our wait for his return in glory.

The first tradition we’re instituting (after intending and forgetting since 2008) is lighting Advent candles every Sunday night. I found these cute little glasses at Goodwill and I love them, but I’ll have to remember to look for better purple and pink votive candles next spring so I can stock up for next year.

four advent candles with the pure Christ candle in the center

The other thing we’re trying is a Jesse Tree! This is a twist on a Christmas tree, where there is a new ornament to hang every evening that corresponds with a devotional reading. Or maybe Christmas trees are a twist on the Jesse tree. Either way, we’re doing one of these this year in place of a usual evergreen. It would be awesome to have the same ornament tradition with a Christmas tree, but I am feeling very lazy about putting that together for now. I’m excited about this because a Jesse tree is a tangible way to celebrate the lineage of God’s faithfulness throughout history leading up to Christ’s birth and learn from those who faithfully waited for the promised Messiah. I think it will take a few years to collect a full season’s worth of ornaments, so some of mine will be pieces of paper or drawings for now! From the looks of this picture I will need to some better branch hunting tomorrow, too. Oh well! This is what it looks like for now, and I already started making an ornament for the reading on Monday.

these branches of the jesse tree are ready for ornaments!

That’s what we’re starting out with this year, and here are a few great resources for Advent if you want to think about any of this stuff yourself:
1) This is a fun song from singer/songwriter Andrew Peterson about the genealogy before Christ. It’s a great musical expression of the things we’ll spend some extra time meditating on this month.


2) Ann Voskamp has a Jesse Tree Advent Devotional available if you subscribe to her blog A Holy Experience. (It would be worth your time to subscribe anyway.)
3) I love this article on Advent from Bobby Giles and these Advent prayers from the Gospel Coalition.

It is marvelous that Christ came and is coming again – we are blessed to contemplate these mysterious gifts!

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit. And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. -Isaiah 11:1-2, esv.

 

veteran’s day

/ abby hummel / 6 Comments

desert cammies in my closet

Today in America we celebrate our Veterans. This is especially poignant for me because I’m married to one. Aaron enlisted in the Marines during college and found out he was going to Iraq shortly after we started dating. He spent a year training for and completing his deployment before safely returning home.  On occasion it occurs to me that things could have been very, very different.  Sometimes I have a little flashback to those days of wondering “Will I ever see him alive again?” when I see a supportive bumper sticker or hear a clueless person rant about war and the middle east, and my heart jumps to my throat whenever I hear a phone with the same ring tone I used while Aaron was in Iraq. I call these things my own “mini post-traumatic-stress” episodes. I mentioned that I had a small kitchen disaster yesterday and my 4-year-old glasses protected my eyelids from strands of hot, exploding squash. As I reflect on the kindness of God’s common protection there, it’s very humbling and a little terrifying to know my own husband’s life was preserved by a much grander series of unknown providential defenses.

I can’t say exactly what reflections Aaron would offer, but on this Veteran’s Day I’ll share some of what I first wrote to friends and family shortly after Aaron’s return from Iraq four-and-a-half years ago.

***
Have you appreciated the legs and arms and lives of the people you love today?

It is no secret that everyone is “dealt a different hand” in the “card game of life.” God plans different things for each of us. I don’t understand why some things happen to me and not to other people. Why do I have the life I do when others face different circumstances? Why did I get this life and not someone else’s?

My boyfriend was deployed for a year. For seven months he was serving in Iraq, fighting at the front lines. Lots of men in his battalion were killed. This country needs many brave men and women to serve in different capacities. Some work on computers or cook on the bases. Others, like Aaron, kick in doors and perform raids. These men are made almost entirely vulnerable to attacks of the enemy during their operations. On the relationship side of things, his sporadic phone calls were quite infrequent, poorly connected, and very short. I prayed fervently for him every day, and am overwhelmingly grateful for his safe return.

While he was deployed, I found myself occasionally considering the mystery of God’s will that this man was for me and in danger so far away when others can spend a lifetime without dealing with anything nearly so harrowing. Now that he is home, I find myself marveling the Divine plan with a totally different perspective. Why is it I get my love home safe and free from injury when others don’t get a safe return, or any return at all?

At his homecoming, when the families lined the walkway where our Marines marched into the gymnasium, we saw men coming in on crutches, in wheelchairs, missing arms. In the crowd, I saw a man cradling an inconsolable woman. Was she just an emotional mother, aware that her healthy son battled the same terrorists these men did? Was one of these wounded men her son — carried inside her body for nine months, raised for two decades and then sent to war? Did this woman have a son who died in Iraq and should have returned with these men? I don’t know who she was and I don’t know her story, but I can’t forget her tears.

After Aaron’s return, when I was still at school, someone gigglingly said: “I bet you are glad to have him home in one piece!” It made me want to cry. By the grace of God, I don’t even remember who said that to me. They certainly hadn’t seen the same scene I did at Aaron’s homecoming. Many people have used the “in one piece” phrase in conversation with me and I never know how to respond. It isn’t that I don’t like having Aaron home safely; I have never been more glad about anything in my life. Referring to someone as being “in one piece” is relevant for this situation precisely because some people don’t come home in one piece. Or come home at all. And I don’t think it is cute or thoughtful to reference that sad fact in the least.

I am fully, completely, absolutely thankful for Aaron’s safe return and I am so proud of him. Unlike those who throw powerful words around tritely, I know what it is to be glad that someone is in one piece.

I am so glad last year is over!
***

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me. …Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  – Psalm 23, king james version.

faith my eyes

/ abby hummel / 4 Comments

slimy!

I was going to wipe off the counters and take some pictures for a look-at-how-far-we’ve-come kitchen project update. Instead, there was an unfortunate food incident and the remodeling tales will wait a bit longer!

With a short window of time to make lunch between an appointment and piano lessons today, I threw a spaghetti squash in the microwave without poking the flesh to release steam while it cooked. The entire squash exploded when I cut it open afterwards and now I have mild burns all over my face, neck, arms and hands. Since my right eyebrow got the worst of the heat, I’m guessing I’d be in the emergency room if I hadn’t been wearing glasses to catch the stuff headed for my eyes!  I’m following my doctor’s orders for treatment and I should heal quickly without permanent damage since it’s more like a blazing sunburn than the “hot curling iron” feel. But it’s a little haunting to think – what if I hadn’t come back into the house for my glasses before that appointment this morning?

Since the kitchen is still carpeted, I’m toying with the idea of ripping it up and going down to the subfloor instead of cleaning the edible war zone. I even found a chunk of squash that flew over the island and into the back hallway. I suppose we should really think about getting a dog for these heavy-duty jobs.

…Keep me responsible, be it a light or heavy load
Keep me guessing, these blessings in disguise
And I’ll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes.
-Faith My Eyes, Caedmon’s Call

Thou art not so unkind…

/ abby hummel / 4 Comments

first snow of the season, as seen from the front door

Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.

-Blow, Blow Thou Winter Wind
from “As You Like It” by William Shakespeare.

leaves under the snow

It’s not really that cold or windy right now, but with the excitement of a first snow-that-sticks-for-a-while (why does it always make me feel like I’m five years old?) it’s good to remember that no winter wind matches the coldness of an ungrateful spirit.

Praise the Lord, Oh my soul,
and forget not all His benefits…
…who satisifies you with good…
…he does not deal with us
according to our sins
-Psalm 103, esv.

joyful, joyful

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For some reason, I always feel like there is great pressure to just “be joyful” without acknowledging that joy is a fruit of the spirit. It’s something that we receive from God,  not something we need to achieve in order to please Him. Of course, we should be joyful. Scripture clearly tells us to “Shout for joy… Be joyful in all things…  Count it all joy…” and it’s undeniable that a heart in union with God is a heart of joy.  The conflict here comes when the rubber hits the road: life is hard and joy is not a natural response in the face of difficulty.

Thankfully, this joy is not at all a burdensome command placed on weary shoulders! It is a gift. God delights to give us gifts, and when joy seems out of reach we can (must!) ask for it with confidence.  I love that the hymn Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee abounds in encouragement. This song points us to God who gives joy instead of demanding something that seems so impossible to achieve on our own.

Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!

All Thy works with joy surround Thee, earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around Thee, center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest; vale and mountain; flowery meadow, flashing sea;
Chanting bird and flowing fountain call us to rejoice in Thee.

Thou art giving and forgiving, ever blessing, ever blessed,
Wellspring of the joy of living, ocean depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father, Christ our Brother, all who live in love are Thine;
Teach us how to love each other, lift us to the joy divine.

Mortals, join the mighty chorus, which the morning stars began;
Father love is reigning o’er us, brother love binds man to man.
Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife,
Joyful music leads us sunward in the triumph song of life.

-Joyful, Joyful text from Henry Van Dyke in 1907.

acquainted with grief

/ abby hummel / 2 Comments

What a full summer for us! There are plenty of exciting pictures of long-awaited kitchen progress to share soon (I’m cooking on the new stove already and we have the bar counter top ready to install!), and I’m very pleased with some other home projects we have accomplished as well, like making over the brick fireplace and relaying some stone pathways outside before reseeding all the grass. This has been a good season, and we are grateful for the chances to improve our home and see so many beloved friends and family. …And then at the end of this excellent summer, I find myself thrown into situations where grief is all around, both for myself and those I hold dear.  This is truly a heavy thing to think on and discuss.

The Thinker

Someone who isn’t in the midst of this can pull all sorts of cliche comments out of thin air, trying to explain gut-wrenching heartache by saying things like,  “Everything happens for a reason,” or “Things will get better; your good time will come soon,” but those are shallow answers to one who is devastated by sadness. A trite comment cannot explain away the painfully simple truth: grief is hard, dark and lonely. Whether you are witness to the deep soul-groaning of the bereaved or experiencing it yourself, the weight of difficulty seems unbearable and cruel. It is true comfort for a Christian to cling to Jesus, the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, in these times.

He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces, he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.  (Isaiah 53, esv)

If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? …Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8, esv)

Friday Five: books I’ve read lately

/ abby hummel

This week I realized I’ve read 14 books already during 2011. I’ve made an effort to read “real” books this year, and I believe this is already much more than I got through in all of 2010. I’m so glad I’ve had the chance to make this a priority! The five books I’m sharing here are some of my favorites, listed here in my own chronological reading order.

1) Orthodoxy by GK Chesterton. This book is a great look at how Chesterton came, intellectually, to accept the Christian faith. I devoured this immediately after re-reading Mere Christianity, where CS Lewis similarly reconciles his academic intellect and confession of faith, and enjoyed the way they told almost the same story in two very different ways. I especially appreciated his discussions about the way modern thinking (that is, modernism and humanism) affect human belief:

“Everyday one comes across somebody who says that of course his view may not be the right one. Of course his view must be the right one, or it is not his view. We are on the road to producing a race of men too mentally modest to believe in the multiplication table. …Just as one generation could prevent the very existence of the next generation, by all entering a monastery or jumping into the sea, so one set of thinkers can in some degree prevent further thinking by teaching the next generation that there is no validity in any human thought… Reason is itself a matter of faith. It is an act of faith to assert that our thoughts have any relation to reality at all.” (Orthodoxy)

*****

2) One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp is really popular right now and I normally shy away from “those” popular Christian books because I prematurely assume they are fluffy and not interesting, but this one is on fire for a reason. This book was passed on to me by a brilliant woman, a dear friend who assured me it profoundly blessed her on the path to recovery from a life-altering betrayal, and I am so grateful I didn’t brush this off! It is anything but superficial. Her lyrical style is almost burdensome at first, if you’re not normally reading much poetry, but after the first chapter I found it easy to connect with her writing about a life of thankfulness in the midst of heartbreak, disappointment and unhappy circumstances. I loved this quote about reversing your heart in a typical “go-go-go” busy life of ungratefulness:

“The real problem of life is never a lack of time. The real problem of life – in my life – is lack of thanksgiving. Thanksgiving creates abundance; and the miracle of multiplying happens when I give thanks – take the just one loaf, say it is enough, and give give thanks – and He miraculously makes it more than enough.”  (One Thousand Gifts)

*****

3) The Scent of Water by Naomi Zacharias. I enjoyed this book immensely and thought it could be a great companion to the book above. Where Voskamp’s book is framed into her life as a farm wife and home-schooling mother of six, Zacharias uses her experiences of traveling the world in Christian ministry to tell the stories of how God reaches to us in suffering – both the hot-button exotic type, like refugee camps, orphanages and brothels and the every-day challenges we brush off because they seem so common, like rejection, death, and divorce. And what I really, really, really love is that she doesn’t say “I am so glad these awful things happened, and as a Christian you have to be thankful that you are suffering.” Instead, she reflects about the sorrow of her broken marriage:

“I am not in a place where I can say I am grateful for all that has happened. Given the choice I still wish very much that it could have been different, that there had been another way to have learned the lessons. I struggle to accept the life that is mine because it is not the story I wanted. And not a day goes by that I don’t notice it still hurts inside…. But now I see the world with perspective; I view people through vastly different lenses and recognize beauty in things that once escaped my notice. God seems more mysterious – sometimes mysteriously confusing, absent, and maddening. But always mysteriously true. …I opt for a life that is extraordinary over a life that is simple.” (The Scent of Water)

*****

4) Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand. Aaron actually read this one first and convinced me to try it, too. It’s the only real “story” I read, and it’s still a biography! Apparently there isn’t much fiction being read around here. It was great to talk about this tale of Louis Zamperini, a troublemaker-turned-Olympic-athlete-turned-Japanese-POW, in the context of our own life. While, thankfully, there was no capture and imprisonment business during Aaron’s deployment to Iraq, there’s no denying that any experience of war profoundly affects everyone it touches and we were both blessed by this testimony of the invincible dignity of the human spirit, created in the image of a gracious God:

“Resting in the shade and the stillness, Louie felt profound peace. When he thought of his history, what resonated with him now was not all that he had suffered but the divine love that he believed had intervened to save him. He was not the worthless, broken, forsaken man that [his captors] had striven to make of him. In a single, silent moment, his rage, his fear, his humiliation and helplessness, had fallen away. That morning, he believed, he was a new creation.” (Unbroken)

*****

5) Here and Now by Henri Nouwen. I loved these short devotionals, especially his urging to consider the importance of communing with God in the midst of each moment:

“The real enemies of our life are the oughts and the ifs. They pull us backward into the unalterable past and forward into the unpredictable future. But real life takes place in the here and now. God is a God of the present. God is always in the moment, be that moment hard or easy, joyful or painful… God is not (just) someone who was or will be, but He is one who is. …Prayer is the discipline of the moment. When we pray we enter into the presence of God whose name is God-with-us. To pray is to listen attentively to the one who addresses us here and now. When we dare to trust that we are never alone but that God is always with us, always cares for us, always speaks to us, then we can gradually detach ourselves from the voices that make us guilty or anxious and thus allow ourselves to dwell in the moment. …If we could just be, for a few minutes each day, fully where we are, we would indeed discover that we are not alone and that the One who is with us only wants: to give us love.” (Here and Now)

*****

I hope you’ll take an opportunity to read some of these yourself if you’re looking for straightforward and thought provoking summer reading!

off’ring up on ev’ry shore

/ abby hummel / 3 Comments

I’ve been thinking about my childhood as a “Missionary Kid” quite a bit today, mostly because I’ve been in the kitchen preparing my contributions for a Caribbean-themed potluck later this weekend, but also because I’m still reflecting on two movies I had on this morning about the missionaries to Ecuador who were killed in 1956. I would highly recommend that you do the same, as the stories of Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, et al., are told in both “Beyond the Gates of Splendor” and “End of the Spear,”  which are available for free viewing on Hulu, the poor person’s Netflix!  Thankfully my own family’s missionary experience, though trying, did not involve murderous villagers or loss of life. Of course I do not directly compare them, except to note that both stories show sometimes making “big” sacrifices or steps of obedience as a Christian can turn out in a way that makes you feel like you’re falling flat on your face if you don’t have a wider perspective to see beyond the moment. And by “beyond the moment,” I mean it might be well beyond your own lifetime that anything comes together, even. This is a hard thing to grasp hold of!

When I was eight, my family moved to Trinidad so my parents could serve as professors at a seminary that was a part of their church denomination. We were there for two years, moving back to the US when I was ten. Here I am with my two younger sisters. We’re next to “Sister Ross,” the woman who cooked for all the faculty and students (probably ~30 people a day?). This picture is out the side door of the cafeteria – notice there is no glass on the windows? And no doorknob? We were truly in “the bush,” experiencing near 3rd-world conditions! I am especially remembering Sister Ross’ hot, steamy kitchen as I saute sliced plantains and boil chayote squash on this outrageously humid June afternoon

hungry cat, Sister Ross, Bethany (5), Abby (8) and Naomi (3)

Just some commentary on our appearance: We all had hurache sandals, but mine were multicolored because there were no more white ones in my size when we got them. I didn’t like not matching my sisters in our shoes, and I was really frustrated that I had outgrown the sweet acid wash denim outfit that Beth so fashionably models in this photo. But seriously… isn’t little Naomi the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? She was probably 3. And that poor cat is probably the most pathetic animal to ever walk the planet. I think I remember that we were not allowed to play with her.

Experiencing significant life upheaval at a young age, like if your mom begins working outside of the home while you are all adapting to another culture, has a way of changing how a child sees the world. I was a precocious girl, very conscious of the culture shock we faced in both directions – moving to Trinidad and moving back to the States a few years later (the move back to the US was infinitely harder) – and I can’t remember much about life before this time. Plenty of my memories are of fun and carefree kids: playing outside in the rain (even the rainwater was warm!); eating fresh mangoes; our first puppy “Scooby”; seeing parakeets perched in the trees and telling my mom “I didn’t know those actually lived anywhere for real… I thought they were from the pet section at Meijer!”;  little lizards everywhere; and our special trip to the one McDonalds in the whole country where I got a Polly Pocket in my kids meal.  But there were challenging aspects that I remember, too: We went down there with practically nothing – personal belongings like clothing, homeschool books, toys, etc., for our family of five fit into eight trunks, and yet the neighborhood kids thought we must be princesses because we each had a Barbie; We could barely understand the “English” spoken there; Some of the food served to us was really gross, like pigs foot soup, and yet we obeyed my mom’s “look” that said finish your plate and if you say anything I swear I will kill you on the way home;  cockroaches the size of my nine-year-old hand and toads the size of a dinner plate; and on several occasions our small home was burglarized while we were sleeping.

One of the other frustrating things about life in Trinidad was that church took FOREVER. I mean it. Like 2-3 hours. And we would sing the same songs over and over and over. No air conditioning. Some Sundays it truly felt like torture – the hard pew, the sweaty back, the people behind us petting our pretty blond hair. And yet, I have to smile every time I think of this chorus we must have repeated at the beginning and end of each service for two years worth of Sundays:

The name of the Lord is a strong tower,
The righteous run into it and they are safe.

While I was old enough to know about some of the difficulty we all faced, this was an experience that has made my life richer and brighter, and I’m enjoying the memories these tastes and smells trigger for me.

Grandparents visited us the second year - with Poppa at Maracas Bay. He played in the waves with us, and it was the first time I'd ever seen him without that toupee.

For Thy Church which evermore, lifteth holy hands above.
Off’ring up on ev’ry shore , her pure sacrifice of love.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our hymn of grateful praise!
– For the Beauty of the Earth, Folliot Pierpoint 1864.

“There’s nothing my God cannot do”

/ abby hummel / 1 Comment

It’s been a busy week, full of music, children, friends, and number crunching. I started off helping some friends with childcare and food after the birth of a new baby and immediately jumped into a week of vacation bible school at church. It’s such a challenge to juggle work and church commitments every single night, but I love singing with kids and investing myself in their lives. One of the reasons I love this is because I know music is one of the most powerful tools to firmly impress something in a person’s memory.  It’s pretty sobering to think that those hundred brilliant little minds are far more likely to remember the songs we taught than the stories they heard or even the verses they memorized.

And night after night, I made eye contact with the four- and five-year-olds, making eye contact, exaggerating my arm motions, smiling, encouraging them to repeat the words after me, teaching them

My God is so great, so strong and so mighty
There’s nothing my God cannot do – for you!

in some ways, I felt like I was teaching them a half-truth. Yes, of course, we instruct children about God’s sovereignty and power. But there is more to God’s might than the fact that He can do anything, and I feel a keen frustration that I start this lesson but will probably move away before they are ready for the rest of it. This first part, if understood without further explanation can lead to heartache, disillusionment and rebellion.  So as they grow into teenagers and adults, I hope and pray they will have more teachers and mentors to guide them through the hard and beautiful truth that this mighty, strong powerful God doesn’t always do the things you desperately wish would happen. And that God not doing those things does not mean He isn’t strong and mighty,  or that He is not working in the midst of pain or disappointment. This reminds me that I am outrageously grateful for the friends and teachers who have blessed me and encouraged my growing faith as we shared those lessons of discovery and trust.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy inhabitation of the Most High. God is within her; she will not be moved; God will help her when the morning dawns. The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come, behold the works of the Lord, how he has brought desolations on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire. “Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”
The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.
– psalm 46, esv.

(ps, I know mom and grandma love the domestic updates: I transplanted a bunch of hostas last week and so far they are looking great)

And like I mentioned at first, there has been some exciting number-crunching going on at our house.  I’ll have more details to share later, but I am amazed at these answers to long-offered prayers. Our life is overwhelmingly blessed.

the holy words will fall inside

/ abby hummel / 2 Comments

I barely slept last night because it was so hot in our house. We are outrageously frugal with our air conditioning. I mean, as long God made cold glasses of ice water, electric fans and clinical strength anti-perspirants,  why should we start shelling out buku bucks to cool our home while most of the world lives in shacks without any sort of temperature control at all? We won’t close the windows and adjust the thermostat, we pledge, until we feel like we are absolutely dying. Friends, that moment of surrender came this morning about 12:45 when we realized the bedroom had not cooled down enough in two hours for either one of us to sleep a wink. In the insanity and boredom, we had a middle of the night pillow fight that finally wore us out enough to break into fitful dozing until the morning. Needless to say, I was completely exhausted and unexcited about most of life all day. After work I saw that a big box of books came, and I lazily thumbed through each one a bit in some effort to decide which one to read first.
Amidst the weariness I found myself so refreshed reading this paragraph, from my now top-of-the-list book:

“I was twenty-seven when I first read the story about the Hasidic rabbi who told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. A woman asked him, “But why on our hearts instead of in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.”
– “the scent of water” by naomi zacharias

I’m really looking forward to reading this and I’ll be sure to share my thoughts on it when I’m through. Have you been reading lately, and reading the sorts of books that really make you think?