• My reading has fallen almost to non-existence since we’ve been in Seattle. My quiet moments (few as they always seem) have been devoted to writing away at my little book or embroidering. The past three days, however, I went on a thrilling reading adventure. It much revitalized a heart in need of being swirled in the delicious whirlwind which only a good book can bring. This is the book: When Knighthood Was in Flower by Edwin Caskoden (pseudonym for Charles Major)
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    My friend Lanier put me onto it here, and I’ve learned to trust whatever books she recommends. If you want to read more about it, you should follow Lanier’s link. I call this type of writing high Victorian–full of (hard-to-believe but wonderfully refreshing) virtue and (over-the top but oh how it will make your heart swell) love. If you like Augusta Evans, I feel very safe recommending this one to you. If you tend towards the cynic…you might not like it so well.
    This is my favorite quote from the book:

    I do not mean that Mary was in love, but that she had met, and for the first time felt the touch, yes even the subtle, unconscious, dominating force so sweet to a woman, of the man she could love, and had known the rarest throb that pulses in that choicest of all God’s perfect handiwork–a woman’s heart–the throb that goes before–the John the Baptist, as it were, of coming love.


    I love it partially because I know precisely what it means, having experienced it myself. When I first met Jeremiah I knew, I just knew, he was the one God had been protecting me for. I had never told a boy I loved him before Jeremiah, because I knew I was still waiting for something that had not been given to me yet. However, on a summer night in May, sitting on the tailgate of a white Dodge truck, with stars reflecting off the little pond we were pondering I heard the words, “I love you, and you don’t have to say anything back, but I do.” And finally, a heart who had been waiting for, what seemed like forever, could finally burst forth and answer back, “I love you, too.”
    He may have said the words first, but his heart was not the John the Baptist of the rest of our dating relationship. There was actually one point when I worked up the nerve to tell him, “I know you’re the one, I’ve always known, and I’m just waiting for the time.” I was answered by silence. “Do you not feel the same way?” And his answer, “I can’t say that for sure.” Oh there were some dark days on our road! But don’t all good love stories suffer twists and turns and snags?
    Before the days of iPods and iTunes–even before Napster!–Jeremiah used to call and leave songs on my voice mail. I would rush out to my car each day after school, to see what message he had left. The first song he left on my phone was John Denver’s “I’d Rather be A Cowboy.” When he started recording, the words were saying this:

    We were just beginning it was such an easy way. Layin’ back up in the mountains makin’ songs for sunny days.
    It was a perfect description of how this springtime beginning to our relationship felt, and if you could have seen me in my car as I listened to those words, you would have thought my face was going to break off if my smile grew any larger. However, if you know the song (you can listen here if you like) you know that it quickly makes a turn for the worse:
    She got tired of pickin’ daisies, and cookin’ my meals for me. She can live the life she wants to, yeah, it’s alright with me. I think I’d rather be a cowboy. I think I’d rather ride the reigns. I think I’d rather be cowboy, than to lay me down and love the lady’s chains.

    Now, as a man who loves music for music’s sake, I now know he was just taken up by the song and wanted to share it with me. As a woman who listens to music for poetry’s sake–searching for hidden meaning everywhere–I thought I was being broken up with over voicemail.
    Anywho, we worked that one out, and that song has become one of our absolute favorites, partly because it expresses a deep desire that we’ve been fostering since those very first days together. The idea of wanting the freedom of fresh air and open spaces–
    I’d rather live on the side of a mountain, than wander through canyons of concrete and steel. I’d rather laugh with the rain and sunshine, then lay down my sun down in some starry field…
    And there have been moments, during all of this long medical training, when I’ve reminded him of those very words. When I’ve said, “I can’t do this any more. I just want you. Can’t we just go live in the woods somewhere. I’ll learn how to garden, I swear!”
    But now, we’re almost through. Almost finished with the training, and we stand here still feeling a lot like those two kids who wanted nothing more than to disappear to a mountainside together,…but we also feel like two adults who have learned that we value and need community. We have signed a contract to move back to Dothan–I don’t think I’ve told y’all that yet. We are so, so very excited to move back home, but are feeling really torn about where God wants us to put down our roots when we get there. I’m flying home with the girls next week to look at houses. Pray for me friends! It’s such an exciting time in our lives, but pray for us if you will. That God will make it clear what His plan is because, ultimately–land or no land, community or countryside, we want desperately to be in His will.


  • After the last couple of blogs, I thought we might could all do with a happy one :)! Not that they haven’t been happy…just maybe some light-hearted happiness. What could be more light-hearted than flying a kite…and eating chocolate?

    This Sunday was a typical Seattle day:
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    I have laughed at Jeremiah, because he’s started calling these days “beautiful.” I hear him on the phone all the time saying, “Yeah, it’s beautiful here today!” I look out the window, thinking maybe I missed something. When I question his truthfulness he says, “Baby, it’s all relative.” I guess he’s right. Rain is not actually falling and for us, that’s a beautiful thing.
    So on this beautiful Sunday morning, while I was getting the girls dressed for church, Jeremiah packed us a picnic lunch and threw the kite that the girls got for Christmas into the back of his car. After the church service we went to Gasworks Park to have a picnic and fly a kite.
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    I’m really glad Jeremiah didn’t tell us the plan, otherwise I would have taken play clothes for the girls and I wouldn’t have gotten these shots of the adorable dresses that Moogie and Sashey gave them for Christmas. I love the bright colors of their dresses and the grass against the charcoal sky…That’s one good thing about this weather.
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    (I think the dresses came from here, but my MIL got them at a little shop in Dothan, AL, and I didn’t find them on the website, so I’m just not 100% sure.)

    Some new, and already dear, friends of ours joined us. They have a little girl named Hannah.
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    Can you tell they’re from the South too? Most people in Seattle don’t dress their kids in cutesy dresses. You can pick us out pretty quick around here.
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    After the kite flying, we were all nearly frozen (I didn’t know to bring play clothes OR jackets), so we went to a coffee shop to warm up. And then, we went to a chocolate factory just down the road. We’d heard about Theo, but never gotten to experience it for ourselves.
    You can smell warm chocolate as you walk down the sidewalk. It’s almost impossible not to go in.
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    And then, piles and piles and piles of free chocolate for the sampling…it was like a dream.

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    Thanks for all your sweet comments on the last blog. I love y’all. Thanks for sharing in our lives and adding a beautiful richness. Happy week!


  • “Why did you tell us, and others, that you were going to heal Mom, and then not do it?” That question has been the root of some bitterness in my life for the past three years. You see, we (as in my family) believed God told us, members of our community, and even strangers that this was His plan for my Mom. He was going to heal her of the Ovarian cancer she had been battling for 13 years, and it was going to be miraculous, and it was going to be an earthly healing. We clung to that and believed it, until she took her last breath…and then we waited with one eye open to be sure He wasn’t going to raise her from the dead.

    I would have thought my belief in God would have been shattered over such an occurrence, but it wasn’t. He had been too present during the fight, He’d held me too tightly for me to question His existence…or even His goodness. What was shattered was my faith. I still believed He had the power to heal, but I certainly wasn’t planning to claim that healing for anybody else (or myself) ever again. I was happy for other people to claim it, I would even encourage them to do so, but I was done believing God for anything big in my life. It left me too vulnerable.
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    Then, I moved to Seattle and became desperate for the fellowship of other women and God. I missed Him and the good grind of knowing Him more deeply. So, I invited a few different women that I’d met here to do a study in our home, and I called my sister Kendall. Kendall’s boyfriend’s Mom (are you still following me, that’s Watson) was one of my Mom’s dearest friends in all the world–Mrs. Abby. She also collects Beth Moore Bible studies that she lends out to others. I asked Kendall if Mrs. Abby would be willing to lend me one. I didn’t specify. Any ‘ol Beth Moore study was fine with me. What did she send?…Believing God–experience a fresh explosion of faith. And Mrs. Abby added the note that it was the last study she and Mom ever did together.
    Crap. That was my thought. It would be rude to send this back, but CRAP. I don’t want to talk about faith; it’s too sensitive. I don’t want to dredge up old feelings about Mom; I’m not ready for that. However, I do know Him well enough to notice that He often asks of me things that I don’t particularly like. The good lessons are never padded with satin and wrapped with a ribbon. So I opened by barbed-wire covered package and I stepped out–on the little bit of faith I’d managed to salvage.
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    On Day TWO of the study, we reached the scripture I was dreading the most. Hebrews 11:11 was probably the most quoted Scripture in our household for the last few months of Mom’s life:

    By faith Abraham, even though he was past age — and Sarah herself was barren — was enabled to become a father because he considered him faithful who made the promise.
    God had given Mom this verse and we claimed it with her over and over. God was going to heal her, even against how bleak it all looked–because she considered Him faithful who made the promise. The verse still pierces my heart.
    However, on day two of this study, facing my dread, I read on and God broke truth over my heart like a sparkling wave of light. If you read on, verses 13-16 say this:

    All these people were still living by faith when they DIED. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw then and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country–a heavenly one. [Emphasis mine]

    Tears were streaming down my face as I realized what He was telling me, and as I sat there the sun, the literal sun, broke through the clouds on this rainy Seattle Saturday–on a day when the cloud-cover was so thick I would have thought it impossible–and the warm sun suddenly spilled all over my face. It was a hug from God. Pure and bright and palpable.
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    I wrote down what He spoke to me, and I wrote it just like He was saying it. I felt like a secretary trying to scratch it all down so that I didn’t miss a word. He said:

    She wasn’t wrong. You weren’t wrong. You did what I required, what pleases me. You had faith to believe what I promised, but I gave her a choice. The free-will that is also my gift. And she chose me…she loves you but not more than ME. What would all that journey have been worth if she didn’t? I foreknew the choice she would make and the promise is completed now. She is healed. She is healed and if she had chosen the promises’ fulfillment to have been made on earth, I would have gladly given her that as well. But once I’d brought her to the place where I wanted her, the place where her heart desired me more than anything else–then the earthly healing no longer seemed so important. Who wants the shadow when offered the substance?

    Now I need you to understand this. To bind it on your heart. I need more than the quarter of a mustard seed you walked away from this experience with. You’ve been content to tuck that in your pocket. I need you to take it out now. I’m ready to grow it.

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