When will I see you again?

How many of you remember that song by Babyface? "When will I see you again...when will my heart beat again..." My brother and sisters and I say that to each other when we leave each other. I love that song. I can still see Babyface singing it on
VH-1, back when they played music! Well, I just wanted to say that is how I feel about this blog. I am in the process of decluttering our home and my time in order that I may become, fully, the woman that God has intended me to be. I was telling my rather organized friend that though it is not in me to spend hours finding the perfect place for things, it is in me to want to write letters and call friends. The very Spirit that was given to me as a seal, setting me apart as God's, has raised dead people. Surely, surely, I can order a few things that I might free my time up to minister to my family and friends as God has intended. So, I'm thinking about all of my dear friends that I do and don't know out there sayin', "When will I see you again?"

Just to give you an update and a few things that I've been thinking about. It is birthday season around here. We celebrated Julia's birthday on September 27th, then yesterday was Anson's birthday (his actual birthday is this Wednesday) and Ella's is this Saturday! Whew. We also took down the crib that's been up for 6 years, certainly the end of an era. Here's a little thought about that...

Ella has been out of the crib for about a month. We just had the bed sort of shoved up against the crib so that if things didn't work out we could just put her behind bars again. Needless to say, it worked out. The weird thing is that my children like to play in it. They throw pillows in there and ask me to throw blankets over the top to make forts...it's a real blast! The other day I was teasing the older kids when they asked to get in the crib to play and I grabbed them like babies and rocked them and talked to them like babies. They laughed and I asked them how old they are and when the last time they needed the crib. They sort of looked at me funny and I told them (still in baby talk) if they were babies they could get in there, otherwise, no.

1 Corinthians 13:11 "When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me."

What if you walked into my house and all of my children were still sleeping in cribs? Better yet, what if my husband and I were still cramming ourselves in cribs? You'd probably decline the next invite, thinking we were whackos and then you'd tell all of your friends how silly it looked. It is silly. My kids are too big for cribs. I'm too big for a crib. I'm a big girl. I think there are times in our lives when we want to crawl back into the crib. We want the safety of the bars, the lovey, the blankie. Paul teaches us that when he became a man, he put childish ways behind him. I'd say he took the crib down. That was no longer an option. I feel like I am growing up. I bought new bedding and I'm going to hang curtains. I want to be the woman, not the girl, the woman that God has called me to be. I cannot do that if I'm lookin' for my lovey and stuck in a crib. Emotionally, spiritually...I want to grow up. I want to see the issues that make me long for the safety of my crib and then I want to run as hard and as fast as I can to the arms of my Savior. Proverbs 18:10 says, "The name of the LORD is a strong tower, the righteous run to it and are safe." So, if you are looking for someplace to go when you are scared and you realize that you are a bit too big for a crib, you can run to the LORD. Your strongtower. Your ever present help in time of need. I can't find scripture to back this up, but I'd venture to say that He wouldn't mind if we treated Him like our lovey. You know, couldn't calm down, or function without Him.

The other little snip-it comes from Wal-Mart. Now, a couple of years ago I did everythang (that is not a typo...it's to be read just like that)at The Wal-Mart. Now, something you must know if you do not live in the south is that Wal-Mart may be the name where you are, but round these parts we call it The Wal-Mart. "I need to get to The Wal-Mart." It's in a class all it's own. Okay, cultural differences aside, I was at The Wal-Mart...late. We were doing a Lego birthday party for Anson and I needed some cheap crap. Where else is a girl to go? So, it was probably 10:45 and there I was, at The Wal-Mart. As I walked up I thought, "Lord, e'rybody's out tonight. Whew, what bunch! Look at these folks. What is so important that they have to be out at The Wal-Mart at 11:00? Mercy." It was then that my sweet, sweet, Savior whispered ever so gently in my ear, "Ali, honey, YOU are at the Wal-Mart too. Just wanted you to know that, suga." I smiled. Jesus was right, again.

I try to keep this honest. Passing judgement is a serious issue of mine. My friend, Hadassah, has written some fabulous posts on this subject that have been extremely helpful. I look at people like I'm not right there in the middle of it. I forget that I was born of Adam's seed and have also received the curse of sin. I forget that I fall short. It's foul and disgusting, but it happens. For a good example of what I mean, I will tell you a quick story of my Grandma.

Grandma was a beautiful woman. The last 2 years of her life she spent in a nursing home, and fortunately I was in town and could go sit with her and visit. To hear her talk about the other people in the home was ridiculous. She had names for all "those people" and couldn't understand how some of them could be how they are, where they are. I found it comical because Grandma was there, too. She may not have been bedridden, or need someone else to feed her, but she was also in their situation. My Grandma has been gone for 3 years, but I still smile and giggle when I think of her. Grandma was in denial. That is why she was able to look at the others and separate herself. She was such a beautiful, well traveled woman, that to think that she was "in" with these folks was just too much for her to bear.

Much like my Grandma, I often live in denial and that is why I feel it appropriate to pass judgement. It is not appropriate to believe that there was any redeeming value in Alison Pyle (that is who I was when I was saved) that would cause God to rescue me from my mud and mire. It was His kindness. It was His mercy. It was His sufficient grace. He saved me, and He sustains me. Blessed be the name of the Lord.