Archive for May, 2012


After much consideration I have finally decided to split this blog into two different sites. I intend to use this site for journaling and writing in general, while the second site: http://rebekahhome.wordpress.com/, will be where I post recipes, homemaking tips, etc. Things were just getting too confusing having everything all lumped into one site. I’m excited about this new step!


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The water was just sitting there above the moist, saturated ground. The water wasn’t agitated, it had been untouched since the rain that had caused it to fill up the small cavity of ground. It was just a puddle,

but it was a puddle with potential.

Watching from the window I had view as the oldest child started with a few sticks and rocks. The youngest watched…for a while. The water splashed and spread as my two young children used it to explore sink or float, swirly patterns and the feel of wet.

But I had told them not to get wet.


The submerged sticks and rocks soon gave way  to underwater toes and playful water splashes. The two were in the water now and fully enjoying the sensory experience. Only, now the water had become something else. It looked like brownie mix all stirred up and ready for baking. The water had become squishy, brown mud and four little feet were muddy too, past the ankles.


But it wasn’t just their feet;  hands and faces looked like they had been used to help clean a brownie bowl, too.


The water play had turned to mud play and it had become more delightful for the children and much, much dirtier.

Remember, they had been told not to get wet.


Sin can have appeal like that. It can look innocent and desirable. We can start to poke at it and feel regret, but not be able to avoid the temptation of it. We begin to dig deeper and it covers us more completely. Sometimes we forget to repent and lean on the One who makes “all things possible through Him.” Our sin dabbling can turn into a full body plunge into darkness and spiritual death.

Judas started with a few dips of his hands into the moneybag. A bag that was used for the ministry of Jesus. He stole the money and turned the value of riches into something more desirable than anything to him. But with his greed he had stirred the pot and the money had also become something black and dirty, a gateway for the devil himself and an unimaginable betrayal.

Sin is inevitable. At some point we will fall flat with our face in a mud puddle. We will sin and it will happen because of our imperfect human nature, the original sin and the lies and deceit of Satan. We “all fall short of the Glory of God.” What then should we do? How can we become clean again and wash it all off; protect ourselves from doing it again?

Look at the sin of David. He was “a man after God’s own heart,” but he more than fell flat on his face. He committed a sin that seems unforgivable. How did he differ from Judas? David became broken. He repented and begged God for forgiveness from a heart that was truly sorry for what he had done. Through the process of repentance he also trusted God and realized that his only hope of being saved from sin so thick that it must have been suffocating was through the absolute grace and forgiveness of God. David pulled himself up out of the mud and was washed clean. Then he yielded himself in the right way, to the heavenly father. God knows our hearts and he knows if we are truly repentant and ready to rely on Him. Read more here: http://wp.me/pNOi4-8G



Yield to Him.

The first thing I must be willing to admit when I begin to examine what controls and dominates me is that I am the one responsible for having yielded myself to whatever it may be. If I am a slave to myself, I am to blame because somewhere in the past I yielded to myself. Likewise, if I obey God I do so because at some point in my life I yielded myself to Him.

If a child gives in to selfishness, he will find it to be the most enslaving tyranny on earth. There is no power within the human soul itself that is capable of breaking the bondage of the nature created by yielding. For example, yield for one second to anything in the nature of lust, and although you may hate yourself for having yielded, you become enslaved to that thing. (Remember what lust is— “I must have it now,” whether it is the lust of the flesh or the lust of the mind.) No release or escape from it will ever come from any human power, but only through the power of redemption. You must yield yourself in utter humiliation to the only One who can break the dominating power in your life, namely, the Lord Jesus Christ. “. . . He has anointed Me . . . to proclaim liberty to the captives . . .” (Luke 4:18 and Isaiah 61:1).

When you yield to something, you will soon realize the tremendous control it has over you. Even though you say, “Oh, I can give up that habit whenever I like,” you will know you can’t. You will find that the habit absolutely dominates you because you willingly yielded to it. It is easy to sing, “He will break every fetter,” while at the same time living a life of obvious slavery to yourself. But yielding to Jesus will break every kind of slavery in any person’s life.

~ Oswald Chambers

“…you are that one’s slave whom you obey…” (Romans 6:16)

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This Dream

Every kid has a dream and I had mine.

It was stories that lit me up, got me through the long, boring days of summer. The isolation I often felt while living miles away from anywhere…homeschooled.

I loved books and kept an open one hidden in the drawer of my desk while I was supposed to be doing schoolwork…“I’m looking for a pencil, mom.”

I loved old radio programs. Seriously. I found where they could be borrowed from the local library and spent countless hours listening to the over exaggerated action of Dick Tracy and the comedy of Groucho Marx and Benny King, was it? They were stories and I loved the places they took me.

We finally owned a television. Movies. Old ones, new ones, I loved them all.

I got a job and bought my own TV and VCR…you remember those, right? I probably spent just about every dime I made renting movies for $.49. Ask me if I’ve seen it…I probably have.

All this time those stories I devoured were a kind of nutrient for me. The stories I read/heard/watched, maybe they were more like blood transfusions…defibrillators for my need to tell stories.

But my writer’s voice never could take that first breath, or the next. It would just lay there dormant. A dried up ink pen waiting for the right kind of paper to draw out the words hidden inside it.

I have always longed to write. That was…is my dream.

I am 29 now and for most of those back-years I felt the pull to write and often did…tried. Everything felt forced and difficult. I found no joy in it, just a great need to do it. My lack of confidence was also the death before the birth of any creativity; fear of punctuation and a morbid obsession with being judged.

These days I feel a bit like Hannah must have. She longed for a son and I longed to write. We were both given what we prayed for and both for the glory of God.


I realize that my talent is pretty tightly pinched in at the edges. More importantly, I understand that I have been given a gift, in whatever limited capacity, and I must do the best I can to glorify God with it. After that, what is left for me is this joy of feeling like I have been loosed in a way. You might know what I’m talking about if you have found your creative outlet.

This writing is a way for me to worship. It is a sort of a wire transfer between me and God. When I abide in Him and in His words a match is struck. It leads me to learn so much when the flame of something is lit inside me and I have to study God’s Word in order for it to flare up like a diesel fed bonfire. I am hungry for what inspires me and I pray my openness of soul becomes food of a spiritual nature for someone else…a reader.

I cannot over exclaim the joy it has given me this past year to finally start really writing. My fingers pick at words from the keyboard that tell the story of my heart. So all of you who read are eyewitness to my own open heart surgery, as you peer inside this…the cavity of my spirit turned inside out onto a page.

I wish each of you could know how precious it is to me that you have taken the time to read these murmurs of my heart. Thank you for bearing with me as I stumble through the candid writing down of my life, bits of it anyway, and worship of The Most High. Will you continue to follow me on this journey as I leap from cliffs of self-doubt and pride to plunge into discovery and communion? Please do. I would love for you to be by my side.

Follow me here as I learn that all is because of the grace of God:


Squeezing in a little thank you here to my husband who encouraged me to not just wish I was writing, but to write. Also, a thank you to my mom for the nudges and the faith.

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