Generations

We had a really neat time over Christmas dinner when my grandma (Yia Yia, my dad's mom) brought over an envelope of a myriad of family photographs collected over the past 20-80 years. Looking at old photographs is one of my most favorite pastimes when we visit my mom's mom's house, too. Seeing pictures of my mom and dad looking like they came straight out of Bye Bye Birdie is certainly priceless. Seeing pictures of my great grandmother and grandfather on their wedding day, however, was certainly something that struck me as remarkable.

They came over from Greece and my great grandmother married her husband in an arranged marriage where he was 10 years her senior. Can't you see the excitement on their faces? It made me think of all the choices and details and circumstances that had to come together to bring them to that place. They may or may not have given much thought to them, and yet, if even one of those details would have changed, there's a very good chance that I would not even exist today. Pretty sobering, huh? It put several things in perspective.

1) The choices that I make in my life have the potential to impact generations to come. It's important for me to continually stay in touch with my Heavenly Father and the guidance of His Spirit to direct my path each and every day. I have to confess, however, that the more that I thought about this, the more I became overwhelmed with the weight of it all. That's when God helped remind me of my second thought.

2) While it is my responsibility to be actively seeking God, it's His responsibility to lead me. Sometimes I get so anxious thinking that life is this big "Choose Your Own Adventure" book and that if I pick incorrectly, my one wrong choice will ruin the rest of the story to come. I don't want to begin to analyze the theological implications and discussions of free will and God's sovereignty, but I will say, that He has given me a peace to trust in Him, resting in the fact that He is powerful enough and Good beyond what I understand, to lead me along His path more than I want to go there.

Deep thoughts, huh? You can see where all my provocative thoughts led me after a hearty Christmas dinner.

Deepest Apologies

I first must apologize for not clarifying my Christmas hiatus over this past week. I now realize that good bloggers tell the blogging community that they are not going to blog for a bit when they know they are not going to blog for a bit. Forgive me for my blunder. Thank you for your patience.

Christmas was very good. It was definitely a different Christmas than year's past with Ashley and Nate not here on Christmas morning, but it was still a delightful time with family. I actually spent a lot of time studying Samantha's gift to me, which, you'll be happy to know, is a new alarm clock! As you can see, it takes a lot of technical expertise, and I'm pretty sure if MacGyver could get his hands on it along with a piece of gum and duct tape, he'd have some sort of explosive created in no time. In the meantime, I continue to try and figure it out, as I've been roused at 7 AM these past few mornings with what was supposed to be a soothing ocean sound, but in all reality had me awaken with the certainty that I was being chased by a tsunami (the volume was a bit louder than I realized). I'll get it soon, however, and I'm sure my snoozing days will be behind me. Thank you, Samantha! :-)

I Can See Clearly Now . . .

I had my yearly eye appointment a few days ago. I had been noticing over these past few months that my contacts weren't working as well as they had been, getting pretty blurry after a few days wearing them. So, I wasn't really surprised when my eye doctor told me that my prescription had dramatically changed, even though it's been the same for the past six years. I was surprised, however, when he told me that it had dramatically changed for the better. I was seeing better than 20/20 by decreasing my prescription by nearly 40%. He said that by wearing the stronger contacts, my eyes were actually having to work harder to focus, making it just as bad as if my prescription wasn't strong enough. When I left with my sample contacts in with my new prescription, I felt like I was looking at a new world. Leaves on the trees, blades on the grass, details that had previously been just one colored blur. I didn't realize how poor my eye sight had become until I had the opportunity to look through a pair of corrected lenses.

"How often does that happen?!?" I wondered as I left. What actually gets better as time goes by? And I realized that it doesn't, at least not outside of the hand of our Father who is constantly in the business of restoring and redeeming the broken and rundown. The moment we choose to allow Him to lead our lives, we have a new nature, a new way to learn how to think, speak, see (2 Cor. 5:17). And yet, sometimes, I choose to revert back to the old ways, back to the glasses that make me work harder to focus, to really see things the way they are. Praise God that He continually extends the grace, and new lenses, to see things as we were meant to see.

Nice Try

So I was reading Sports Illustrated the other day and I saw these pictures next to a small article explaining what these people are doing. They're playing a game called Feetball. From the best that I can tell, it's a similar theme as volleyball with the exception that you cannot use your hands.

Yeah, that's kind of what I thought, too.

I really think they need to quit trying to make these feeble attempts to create new sports and just accept the fact that everyone knows is true: football is the best sport there is. Let's just say it, embrace it, and move on. Poor people . . . thought they might be able to make a better sport by taking the greatest sport ever and making the named appendage plural. It's a nice try, sports fans, but I have to tell you that it's just not going to work. Football is still the winner. :-)

9 More Minutes

It's pretty much the same thing every morning. Although I've always had a tendency towards this sickness, I have to say that the disease has gotten progressively worse over the last year. Acknowledgement is the first step towards healing though, right?

Hello. My name is Leah Edwards, and I'm a chronic snoozer.

Every night before I go to bed, I create a plan for my morning. I think about when my first meeting starts and then work backwards. Sometimes my pre-meeting schedule is a full 3-4 hours full of really beneficial activities: exercise, Bible study, prayer, shower, breakfast, homework. It's really a great vision with even better intentions. I set my alarm and then it happens. I awaken and think of my plan in my head, acknowledge that it is a good plan, and determine to begin it in just 9 more minutes, when the snooze alarm goes off again. This delusion goes on for about 2 more snoozes when I then determine to actually begin my plan . . . from the comfort of my bed. The funny part is that I actually believe that it might work this time. "Surely, if I read/pray/write with my head on my pillow, I won't fall asleep and I can keep enjoying these delightful covers . . ." After a few more snoozes, I realize that the pillow plan isn't working and although I really want to get up, every inch of my body fights me. It's like I can feel myself becoming Exhibit A for a physics lecture describing the Law of Inertia.

After anywhere from 30-120 minutes of sleep in 9 minute increments, I realize that I am now really far behind schedule and I find myself running around, having long since abandoned my grandiose plan, and now simply trying to figure out how I can get to my meeting on time. And then it all starts again the next morning.

The dumb thing about snoozing is that it's a lose/lose situation on all ends. I surely don't enjoy quality sleep when I awake every 9 minutes. I don't accomplish any of my well-intentioned goals, and I am usually late to wherever I am going next. So why do I do it?

How well I identify with Paul in Romans 7:19. "For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing." Sadly, I've realized that too often, I'm not only "snoozing" to my alarm, but to life in general. "I'll read that book soon. I'll start that Bible study soon. I'll call that friend soon. I'll spend time with that person soon." One after another after another set of "9 more minutes" adds up and the time keeps flying while I'm left with a datebook that stands for me as a messy anthology of missed opportunities.

I guess I'm writing this as an accountability of sorts. Maybe by telling all of you some of my greatest shortcomings, it will actually serve as a stimulus tomorrow morning to "do the good I want to do." I'm going to head to bed now and set my alarm. Let's hope I'm on the road to recovery.

Shopping Redemption

My mom and I enjoyed such a lovely day of Christmas shopping in the South Side Works, one of Pittsburgh's most newly renovated areas. You can see a picture of what the area looks like now (left) with a Joseph Beth Bookstore, Cheesecake Factory, movie theatre, and all kinds of fun stores like White Black, H & M, Sur La Table, and Sharper Image which has more gadgets than I ever thought possible. It was like an Air Mall catalogue come to life. We also briefly went to the Waterfront (right), another great area that was renovated a few years before the South Side area that includes more shopping and some of Pittsburgh's most wonderful array of restaurants.

What I found to be truly remarkable about the areas, though, was thinking about what the land used to be. Here are two pictures of both shopping areas before the lovely renovations of recent years. You can see that they were the quintessential images that most people pictured when they thought of Pittsburgh, the days when men would go to work in the morning wearing a white shirt and come home wearing a black one, the days when "Steel City" didn't have any connection to a football team, but rather to the industry that represented the city's livelihood.

As the steel industry lost its power and presence in the national and international economy, so did these previously "booming areas" in the city's geography. Many of these areas became extremely depressed and even dangerous, with the now run-down and graffitied homes serving as empty shells of the luxurious residences they once were. If someone had said twenty years ago that these areas would become some of Pittsburgh's most high-end shopping and recreation areas, I'm pretty sure the response would have simply been a blank stare followed by blatant laughter in their face. The person who could first imagine and cast the vision for these areas was a true visionary and risk-taker.

It made me appreciate all the more the even greater risk and vision our Heavenly Father had when He chose to redeem me and my brothers and sisters in Christ. How He can see us as a redeemed, changed, and complete child in the midst of our sinful and broken state is nothing short of miraculous, nothing short of seeing a multi-million dollar metroplex in the middle of a long-forgotten steel mill. Praise God for both redemptions, one that I enjoyed today and the other in which I will continue to delight for all of eternity!

Pat on the Back

So I was reading the last few chapters in the book of Acts this morning, and for whatever reason I read it with a new set of eyes, like I never heard the story before. It's really quite an amazing story, one that makes you think, "No WAY, could all this have happened!" Narrowly escaping death several times, meeting with some of the most powerful people of the age, suffering from torture and disappointment . . . and that's all just in one chapter! Incredible, truly.

The part that really stuck out to me, however, was one little part in ch. 28. Paul had finally landed in Rome after a series of most unfortunate events that God turned into most fortunate blessings, and verse 15 says that a group of guys, fellow brothers in Christ heard that Paul landed and they traveled this long distance to meet them. It says, "At the sight of these men Paul thanked God and was encouraged."

Paul was encouraged by these men. It struck me because I never think of Paul needing encouragement. I mean, he's Paul. He wrote almost all of the New Testament, practically started the Christian church as we know it, and would be tortured time after time and talk about joy and singing afterwards. If there's anyone that's strong and rock solid it's Paul. So why would he need encouragement?

I guess that that's exactly why Paul needed encouragement. God knew that even a man like Paul needed people around him to speak Truth to Him, to care for him, and just be his friend, to just see him as Paul, not the famous rock that was traveling the known world tirelessly preaching the Good News.

It made me think of the "Pauls" that I know . . . pastors, leaders, my parents, people that I look to as Rocks, solid people that are unshakable in their faith and service and care. It occurred to me that they're people just like Paul and me and everyone else who needs that encouragement from time to time. I am so blessed when someone sends a word of encouragement my way and I pray that God would continually remind me to share that with ALL those He places around me.

Great Read

I just finished another semester of grad school and the last book we read in my class was one of my favorites. It's a really quick read, beautifully written, and extraordinary in its power to take a story that I've heard since I was a little girl and give me a new set of lenses to see it and hear it as if it were the very first time. It's called Telling the Truth: the Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy Tale, written by Frederick Buechner.

The book is mainly written for an audience of those who are regularly communicating God's word as a profession, but I found it to be extremely applicable to many. Here's a really good summary in Buechner's own words of the premise of his book.

"The Gospel is bad news before it is good news. It is the news that man is a sinner, to use the old word, that he is evil in the imagination of his heart, that when he looks in the mirror all in a lather what he sees is at least eight parts chicken, phony, slob. That is the tragedy. But it is also the news that he is loved anyway, cherished, forgiven, bleeding to be sure, but also bled for. That is the comedy. And yet, so what? So what if even in his sin the slob is loved and forgiven when the very mark and substance of his sin and of his slobbery is that he keeps turning down the love and forgiveness because he either doesn't believe them or doesn't want them . . . In answer, the news of the Gospel is that extraordinary things happen to him just as in fairy tales extraordinary things happen . . . It is impossible for anybody to leave behind the darkness of the world he carries on his back like a snail, but for God all things are possible. That is the fairy tale. All together they are the truth" (7-8).

The man uses words like an artist and brings back the run-on sentence. Yay, Frederick! :-)

I highly recommend it, especially in the midst of the Christmas season. Seeing His incredible gift with new eyes certainly does bring back a sense of wonder in the midst of familiarity.

Mystery Solved!

Wow. I had no idea what kind of thorough and in-depth response I was going to get from all you bloggers. Thank you so much. Now I know where to take my other mysteries of life. What can you guys tell me about where the other sock goes in the dryer and why cookie dough tastes so much better than the actual cookie?

Mysteries of Life

All right, so there's been an ongoing debate in my family for the past several years and I felt the need to see if somone in the blogosphere could help to provide some insight.

Everyone loves the Christmas classic, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, right? And who doesn't just have a soft-spot for all those misfit toys on the creatively named, Island of Misfit Toys. You have the polka dot elephant, the train with the square wheels, the plane that's a boat . . . clearly misfits. But what is the deal with that "Dolly for Sue" (the kind that will even say, "How do you do?")?!? As you can see from the picture, she seems perfectly normal. Why is she a misfit?

Any insight someone can provide to one of these greater life's mysteries is most welcome.

'Tis a Gift to Be Simple

So I've been trying to take some time over this past week to get some Christmas shopping done. Every year I attempt to sit down, figure out a budget, and brainstorm what would be the perfect Christmas gift for the family and friends that I love. And pretty much every year, I end up doing the same thing.

If I'm lucky, I'll think of one "ideal" gift to get someone and with everyone else, I suddenly draw a blank. It's as if all of my previous knowledge and friendship with the members of my shopping list is suddenly erased, and I cannot think of one item that they really need or want and I do what has to be the cardinal rule of "Things NOT to Do During the Christmas Season" . . . I go to the mall praying that somehow McKnight Road will become my road to Damascus, complete with a Heavenly voice enlightening me to all the answers of the mysteries of my Christmas shopping.

It hasn't happened yet.

Instead, I find myself wandering about the mall aimlessly, looking at items such as this Santa bulldog thinking, "Oh, that's cute. I bet my sister would LOVE that, and look! It's only $19.99. What a bargain!" What kind of sickness overtakes me, a fairly rational thinker who knows that my sister has no interest in bulldogs or battery operated toys for that matter, yet as soon as Black Friday hits, I lose all semblance of reality and decide that I just need to purchase something for my sister whether she wants it or not? And the great tragedy in it all is that I really love buying gifts for people. I love it when I can think of "that perfect something" that will really bless someone and delight their heart.

It made me really think of gift-giving as a whole. If you think about it on a completely rational level, gift-giving truly is an inefficient idea. Think about it. You're trying to figure out what someone else wants or needs without them telling you. How many times have we received a gift that while the person meant well, it wasn't really quite what we wanted? Wouldn't it be easier for people just to get what they want themselves or at the very most, to just give people money to do with it what they wanted?

And while I'm not knocking the gifts of cash or gift cards, I would contend that there is something very special about exchanging an actual material gift with someone else. There is an element of trust between the gift-giver and gift-receiver that is just as special as the gift itself. The gift-receiver must trust the gift-giver, trusting that the giver knows them and loves them and wants to give them a gift that would bless them. And the gift-giver must trust that the gift-receiver will graciously receive and enjoy their gift and use it in the way they intended. And honestly, when I look back on some of my most favorite gifts ever received, they have not necessarily been extravagant or expensive or even something that I asked for. Rather they were gifts that showed the heart of the giver, one that I loved more than any gift they could provide.

My very dear friend Jen got married yesterday. It was a wonderful celebration, but more than anything, it was a testimony to me of what an amazing Gift-Giver our Father is. When Jen started dating her new husband, I was struck with a sense of, "Huh?" He was a business-computer geek and she was a health-nut pilates instructor. Both would say that they had no intentions of seriously dating, nevertheless marrying the other, and yet God knew that this couple could so beautifully complement the other in a way that no one could see. He gave them the priceless gift of each other in a package that they weren't expecting, and they were open enough in their relationship with Him to receive it.

I desire to grow and trust my Gift-Giver more and more this season and beyond. Setting aside my "Christmas Lists" of expectations, time-tables, and demands and instead opening whatever gifts He places in front of me, trusting that He knows me better than I even know myself and that He has already proven to be the best Gift-Giver I could ever know. Why shouldn't I think that He'll continue the trend? Even more than that, I desire to be a trustworthy gift-giver to my Best Friend, blessing Him with praise and glory and my whole being. And while to me, it feels like I fall terribly short of that goal, giving God more of a barking bulldog than gold, frankincense, or myrrh, somehow, He chooses to receive it and proudly place it on His mantle as if it were the greatest gift He'd ever known. Almost makes you want to run out to the mall and go shopping, doesn't it?

Victory!

Yesterday was a Red-Letter Day in my young adulthood.

If cooking a meal is a monumental occasion for a bachelor, handling car trouble has to be an equivalent for a bachelorette. While I like to consider myself a fairly independent woman, I have to confess that car knowledge has been somewhat of an elusive enigma to me.

I first came to grips with this several months ago when some male co-workers alerted me to the fact that my back tire looked like it needed some air. I stopped at the gas station after church and pulled up to the "Air" machine thinking, "How hard can it be?!?" After a good 15 minutes of wiggling the air hose around to the place where even I now thought my tire looked flat, I was stumped and frustrated. At that moment another male motorist pulled up next to my car, obviously wanting to use the air machine as well. Our conversation went something as follows:

Man: "Is there a problem here?"

Me: "It's all right. You go ahead. I'm not sure what's wrong."

Man: "Well, what are you trying to do?"

Me: "I'm just trying to fill my tire up with air, and it looks like there's something wrong with the machine, or maybe my tire."

Man: (Glancing at the tire and air machine) "Well, did you turn it on?"

Me: "There's an 'on switch'?!?"

With an expression of both shock and pity, the man graciously offered to fill up the tire for me, and I was happy to let him. My skills were not again tested until yesterday when I went to go to a Christmas party only to realize that I left a light on in my car and it was completely dead. Fortunately, I received jumper cables as a Christmas present last year, and although I noted excitedly that they came in a cute carrying case, I really didn't pay much more attention to them until yesterday. My mom came to help me and knowing her to be a Renaissance woman in every other area of her life, I figured that she knew how to jump a car. Turns out that she's not much of a Mrs. Goodbody either. So, we turned to a solution that would make any warm-blooded male cringe with disdain.

We read the owners manual.

After a good 15 minutes of looking at diagrams, trying to match up "doohickeys" in the picture with "thingamajiggies" in the actual hood of the car, I was a little nervous that I could potentially blow the car up, but pretty confident that we were good to go. I took a big breath, turned the key . . . nothing. Completely dead. Not a sound. We were ready to throw in the towel when I had a sudden flashback to 11th grade physics.

The pretty red positive cable was connected to the pretty red positive sign on each engine, but I realized that it would be very difficult for a charge to go through the pretty red plastic to which I had connected it. Low and behold, the plastic was a cover that you're supposed to lift up and connect the cable under it. Those sneaky car designers!!! Once the problem was corrected, it was only a turn of the key before my pretty car was running better than ever. You could almost hear, "I am woman, hear me roar" off in the distance as my mom and I proudly smiled.

As I drove, trying to categorize all my new auto knowledge into some sort of permanent place in my mind, God used it as an opportunity to remind me of an important spiritual Truth. It didn't matter how hard I tried to wiggle the air hose or jiggle the jumper cables or turn the key of my car. In the case of my battery, I had to be correctly connected to the source, and in the case of my tire, even when I was correctly connected, it didn't do me any good until I allowed the power to come through the connection.

Too often, I'll be running through my day, checking things off my personal agenda, getting projects done, even doing ministry without taking the time to connect to my Heavenly Father. When I don't stop and ask Him to direct my agenda, ask Him to guide my steps, my day is started with an inherently incorrect connection that cannot be sustained. And when I don't take the time to clear my heart and mind, to repent, to allow His Spirit to move freely throughout my whole being, it's as if I'm trying to blow up a tire without turning on the switch. I need His power to carry me through each day, whether I realize it all the time or not.

Victory was sweet yesterday, but I pray that it was only the beginning of even more significant victories to come.

Foggy Mornings

The summer after my eighth grade year, my family took a vacation to Colorado. It was my first trip out West, and I was excited to see the different climate and culture that I had studied in school (not to mention my parents telling us over and over and over how great the Rockies were going to be). I looked out the window of our plane intrigued with the view of the flat plains, the numerous cornfields, and the painted deserts, eagerly anticipating the overwhelming expanse of the mountains as we got closer and closer to Denver. When we finally landed and I saw the mountains at the airport and looked at them during our whole drive down to Colorado Springs, I was overwhelmed with the feeling of, "That's it?!?" To my little, suburban eyes they didn't seem like anything that different than I had known in Western Pennsylvania, and I couldn't figure out what the big fuss was about.

The big fuss was about the fact that the particular day that we arrived was one of the rare days of any kind of weather but sunshine in Colorado. The weather that particular day was "foggy," and being from Pittsburgh, foggy and rainy and partly cloudy was what I thought weather was always like everywhere. When I woke up the next morning, however, I looked out the window of our hotel room and felt like screaming, "Where did those come from?!?" The fog that had covered the mountains the day before had lifted and the "mountain tops" that I thought were so unimpressive were actually the foothills of the immense range that was behind it. I was standing amongst greatness and didn't even realize it.

I think I spend a lot of my life caught up in the details of obligations, deadlines, and routine, occasionally aware of God's presence, reducing His power and majesty to a pretty sunset or a good day at work. I say this not to minimize His blessings in these small things, but to point out that too often, I think that I become so comfortable with these gifts that I think that I understand all of who God is, all of what He's doing, when really I've been gawking at the foothills of His greatness.

I had one of those "fog clearing" moments yesterday.

We have a big day at church this tomorrow, a community Open House, that will feature the debut of a new strategy for Family Ministry at North Way with the introduction of a shared family experience designed to present parents with the opportunity to begin/continue to lead their children in developing a relationship with Christ. Realize that I've been studying about this concept for the past two years, creating the plans and schedules and casting the vision to parents and leaders intensely for these past three months, and there I was last night at the dress rehearsal taking notes on all the little details that needed to be corrected before Sunday.

Before the final run-through, we prayed.

It just took a few seconds, but that's all that God needed. He stilled my spirit enough, quieting the storm of details and notes, lifting the fog of the urgent to open my eyes to the expanse and importance of His greatness. What He was doing there, that night, what He is doing now and tomorrow and in the days ahead is so much bigger than me or our church or any one person. I felt as if God suddenly showed me that for whatever reason, He was choosing to use this opportunity as one small piece of a much greater plan that He has been orchestrating on a level I couldn't conceive.

I have no idea what to expect we'll see tomorrow. Perhaps it will come and go seemingly without anything significant happening. Whatever it appears to be, I rejoice in the fact that God is working and moving in the Heavenlies, and I pray that He will continue to get me out of the way and clear the fog of my spirit to humbly recognize in the magnanimous and the mundane His inconceivable greatness all the time.

"Super" Leah?

I can't say that I'm an avid comic book fan, but I've certainly enjoyed the "superhero" movies that have come out over the past few years, exemplifying "ordinary" people who have extraordinary superpowers. Sometimes I wonder, "If I could have any superpower, what would it be?"

Flying is an obvious choice and being "super metabolism woman" is a close second. During a week like this, however, I think my choice might be the ability to never have to sleep. As much as I enjoy crawling into a nice, big bed with clean sheets, my thought is that if I never had to sleep, I could get so much more done.

I'm in the middle of one of those intense weeks when it seems like all major projects for work, school, and life in general collide into one magnanimous schedule, causing me to many times wonder how I will ever get it all done. It seems like the only solution is to somehow supersede my human weaknesses, to be "Super Leah" overcoming even the most basic needs to eat well and sleep. Sick, isn't it?

Last week during our staff devotions, I led a short study looking at the concept of rest. I usually like to avoid what God has to say about rest because as I mentioned I don't like to actually "practice what I preach." What I found, however, is that God was really intentional with His creation of rest. Think about it. God did have the superpower. He really didn't need to eat or sleep and yet He intentionally took time to rest at the completion of His work. Why? From what I studied, it seemed to be two reasons:

1. It was a gift, an intentional time to find physical, spiritual, and emotional rest, and to enjoy it! If someone gave me the opportunity to have a free vacation, I'm pretty sure I would want to jump on that offer. So why don't I receive that same offer that God gives me every week? It's because I fight acknowledging the second reason for rest.
2. It was a discipline, a time to remember all that God has done, and to recognize the reality that I cannot "do it all" and really, do anything on my own. When I don't take time to step back from the rigors of life and recognize God's part in it, I very quickly delude myself into taking the credit for it, believing myself to be some kind of "superwoman" that can accomplish more than other mere mortals. I need the Sabbath because I need to live in the humility that it brings.

God cares so much about rest that He went out of His way to provide for it. He provides double the manna for the Israelites so they don't have to collect it on the seventh day (Ex. 16), and even triple the amount of crops every sixth year so that the land could take a rest every seven years from the grueling crop seasons (Lev. 25). The Israelites never quite got it, and I can't say that I wouldn't look at that triple crop and think, "Wow! With this kind of bounty I can be so much further ahead if I work again next year . . ." I do it every day.

If I can't get everything done, it's either because I'm not allowing God the opportunity to supernaturally provide, or I've put too much on my plate, trying to get beyond what He's planned for me. I confess that I always have and most likely always will continue to struggle with this commandment, but I pray that in the midst of this weakness, God would prove Himself strong and empower me to grow and fight my tendency to try and be "Super Leah," and to simply be the child He's created me to be.

I'd still like to negotiate those other two superpowers, however. :-)

Song Link

So, I still haven't figured out how to add MP3 files to my blog, but thanks to the research of my amazing mother, she found a link to the "Oh Holy Night" version that I mentioned before. Enjoy the ridiculousness of the song . . . I hope it's not too painful. :-)

http://www.daveamason.com/april/mp3/OHolyNight.mp3

Writer's Block

So, I haven't posted in a few days, and honestly this is the very reason why I was ever hesitant to start a blog in the first place . . . pressure.

Ok, so I know what you're thinking. "Get a hold of yourself Edwards. This is a blog. And more than that, this is your blog, the blog of a twenty-something girl in Gibsonia, PA that just began not even a week ago," (and honestly who else besides family members is reading it?). I totally joined your train of thought until a few days ago. Then, I "met" Lorna. Everything changed.

Who is Lorna you ask? Lorna is my new blogging friend from Finland. Yes, Finland. She was kind enough to post a comment on Monday and quite honestly, I was flabberghasted. How in the world does a woman half-way across the world hear and read about my little blog in Gibsonia, PA?!? And if Lorna is reading this little blog, what other Scandinavian bloggers are reading? And if Scandinavia is now reading, what about Balkan bloggers or the South East Asian constituency? And once we've gone over to Asia, it's only a hop, skip, and a jump to Oceania and before I know it, I've created a web of six degrees of people that span the globe who may or may not be reading this blog and all I can think to write about is how it was unusually warm today and how I've never seen a fjord and how our top news story in Pittsburgh was the death of Jerome Bettis' father (and as much as we all care for the Bettis family, and any Steeler news in general, why would a Blogger in Phuket), which results in long, run-on, stream-of-consciousness sentences that say nothing and result in . . . pressure.

(In case you haven't noticed, I can tend to be a bit prone to analytic hyperbole, allowing myself to create situations that may or may not really exist, but forcing myself to live and figure out solutions to those problems as if they were the most pressing issues known to man.)

All this to say: Lorna, thank you for posting a comment and opening my eyes once again to how big this world is and how big our God is to not only place us all together in His family but to intimately know each of us as if we were the only ones that existed. Happy birthday and I'm sorry that my profundity today is sadly lacking. And to whomever else may be reading this simple little blog (all six of you), thanks for your patience and support as I blindly move leeward in Gibsonia. :-)

NO Holy Night

So, with the official start of the Christmas season, I am so happy to announce that it is now time to once again bring out my all time favorite version of the beloved Christmas carol, "Oh Holy Night." This is one gorgeous tune, that I've heard so many different talented singers sing or musicians play. This particular version, however, was passed along to me by a friend last year and, well, I'll never be able to hear the song in the same way again. Hope you enjoy it as well! :-)

Hmmm. I've tried for two days now to figure out how to put an MP3 on this here blog. I seem to be unsuccessful. Any help would be greatly appreciated! Sorry. :-(

Sesame Sentiments

When I was a little girl, my parents surprised my sister and I with a great delight: tickets to Sesame Street Live! I had been seeing the commercials on television for weeks and desperately wanted to go. (The only thing that could possibly top it would be tickets to Muppet Babies Live (which I don't think even existed) and that was only because I wanted to see what Nanny's face looked like above those darn green and white stockings.)

It was the night of the show, with great tickets at the Civic Arena and it was, indeed, marvelous. Watching my favorite characters singing and dancing, eating cotton candy and popcorn for dinner, and waving my $8.95 blue, fiber-optic wispy flashlight in the air was quite literally a dream come true. And so it was with great shock that as the show concluded and the thousands of small children clapped with glee and left the arena with smiles permanently plastered on their faces, that my parents looked over at me and I was sobbing. Yes, sobbing.

They were understandably confused as they had watched me experience sheer euphoria for the previous 90 minutes. What more could I possibly want? And that was just it. It was wonderful. Perfect. More than I could have imagined. And now it was over. Finished. Good night. They tried to console me and wondered to each other what kind of strange child comes to Sesame Street Live and leaves sobbing.

And so why am I reminiscing about Big Bird and Grover tonight (this was pre-Elmo days, remember)? I guess I am feeling a bit of deja-vu, as I suffer from post-Thanksgiving withdrawl. I could never figure out why adults always used to say how much they loved Thanksgiving. I always thought it was a waste of a holiday when there were no presents involved. This year, however, I get it more than ever. Thanksgiving was truly a delight at the Edwards home. My sisters (and new brother) came home along with all my cousins (and even a new second cousin that I hadn't seen in 15 years) and we enjoyed days full of pie, laughter, 24 (Season One), pie, sleeping, staying up late, and then we'd get up and eat some more pie. It was wonderful. Perfect. More than I could have imagined. And now it's over.

I don't pretend to be sad about it. Maybe it's partially the fact that I can't believe the writers of 24 would toy with our emotions the way that they did, or perhaps it has to do w/ the disappointment of not being able to enjoy my favorite team (Steelers) and favorite sport this afternoon and I was reduced to console myself by watching curling. But more than anything, I'm feeling the disappointment of an end. The end of a wonderful gift of love and fellowship and rest, and I confess that there's a part of me that hates the end of these delights so much that I don't want to ever enjoy them, thereby avoiding the pain of the end. I know that's not the answer, however.

God created these gifts. He designed us for fellowship, rest, laughter, dreams, and He delights to give us these gifts through our families, friends, and opportunities that only He can create. Yet, even in the joy of those gifts there's a part of us that still mourns the end, that feels an ache returning to the reality that things are not the way God intended. So how do we respond?

I suppose I'm learning to rejoice in the gift, to allow myself to hope and rest and live in every moment with which God chooses to bless me. And at the end of these moments, I will take my ache to my Father, allowing Him to complete and fulfill as only He can, and look forward to the day when there where there will be no end to His glory and gifts. And what a day that will be. Probably even better than Thanksgiving 2006 and Sesame Street Live combined. :-) He's a good Father, isn't He?

Leewards

So the title of this blog might seem a little funny, but actually there's a method to the madness, and like most other things in my life, I owe it (the blog name) to my mother.

Leeward is a nautical term, defined as "moving toward the quarter toward which the wind blows." And, coincidentally, it sounds like "Lee's words" (my initials being LEE, Leah Emily Edwards). Now moving in the direction of the wind can be a good or bad thing depending on what kind of wind is blowing.

Certain winds can be strong and destructive, easy to blow a ship to and fro and destroy it if it's not anchored to something stronger. On the other hand, if the anchor always remains in place the sailboat may be able to catch a good wind, but it will never be able to leave that place and journey to a new destination as it was designed.

It's my heart's desire to be anchored to the Truth and Person of Jesus Christ, tethered to His unchanging character in the midst of winds of change and circumstance that this world brings. I would be remiss, however, and sadly never achieve my purpose if I remained anchored forever, never allowing the Winds of His spirit to steer me into the adventure He's prepared.

And so, this blog . . . I guess I just think of it as my "captain's log," a record of my journey, the mundane and the significant, the successes and the failures, the storms and the sweet winds that mark the adventure. Journey with me as you wish, and I would value your insights from your travels as well. Together, we will head leeward, in the direction of where the Wind blows.