cross the bridge.
watch the ribbon of winding roads.
nail down your honor. your courage.
your self-respect. carve our souls
into instruments of Your love.

because...
the clouds are bulging with rain.
the sky darkens and all there is
is a sliver of light. we are not fighting
each other, but the principalities and powers of
darkness. lace up your boots. stomp your feet.
march with the rhythm of Christ's glory. wave the
flags. join the parade.

let's sing and shout and throw our arms
toward the Heavens. put on your helmets of
salvation. march with the
Drummer. can you hear the roar
of millions following Him to the
celestial city? they are there. undaunted.

let the clouds burst and rain pour.
let the mud fill your (our) boots. no matter.
we are champions. warriors. and the bombshells
of life cannot squeeze our souls, or shrivel
our futures.

Jesus is our Victor.
He approached the woman at the well. He
asked for a drink and how many husbands she had.

"I don't have any husbands."

Jesus said, "yes. you have had five husbands
and are living with a man. this water will satisfy
you for awhile, but my water will fill you for life.

she told everyone she knew:
"you must come to the well and meet the Man
who told me everything about me."

Jesus does. He knows all the pieces of who we
are. He is the lead Warrior, and our Hope
and Peace. He loves us inspite of all we
aren't that we should be.

pour rain. pour,
and cover and cleanse us
from all our sins. You are our
Prince of peace. the only ONE who
can unravel our complexities; stop the
pounding of our hearts...and soothe our
fears with Your gracious presence of mercy.

shine, Glory, shine.
You are the One who holds us
together when we are frayed and falling
apart, and in desperate need of acceptance
and love.

cover us with your Blood.
in every vein and artery, and
our souls. cover us, Lord, cover us.

i don't know what you all did new year's eve
and new years, but i was at a friend's house
with two dogs, two cats, and my grandbaby, colben,
12 months old.

brandt and jasmine have a pit bull that, as of this moment,
has no manners when entering someone else's home. he
bounded through the door. headed straight for casey's
(golden retriever) food bowl, and as I watched in horror,
he ate every bite of casey's bowl of food. threw it all up,
and pooped the minute brandt put him on the back patio
so as to clean up the barf.

my friend was taking her mother somewhere for the
weekend, and i know she must have thought the house
would be levelled when she returned. i was close to
the same thoughts.

i put a leash on casey. bundled my dollbaby colben in
a white knit cap and tights and sweater...and locked
jr. (pitbull) out back, howling and barking, and we
headed to the park to throw balls for casey to retrieve.
hanging onto colben in his new little van shoes, and
casey's leash, we walked and played and came home.
colben never whined or wanted to be picked up.

before we even got close to the house, we could hear jr.
howling. i unleashed casey, and got jr., holding on with all
the strength i had. leashed him, took colben's hand, and
out the door we go to give jr. some fresh air. he would
wrap the leash around colben and me, and start to bound
off, about to decapitate the baby and me. he would
plant these giant, wet licks over colbens face, who would
close his eyes, and then continue walking. his little feet
moving with no effort.

two trips to the park,
and colben, with milk in his sippy cup, laid down and
did not move for almost three hours.

finally, after two hours, jr. began to calm down, and
he and casey bonded. buddies. everywhere they went,
side by side. all of us survived, and by the time brandt
and jasmine came for colben, all his clothes were clean.
the kitchen wiped down. the dog food up on a counter
where neither dog...nor colben...could eat it.

by the time karen returned the next day, you would never
know that we ALL ended up in her bad the night before
(i washed all her bedding), and casey had her water and
food back in place. she did not have any idea that colben
had been in all her kitchen drawers, or that jr. peed on
her office rug.

james 4:7
"submit yourself then to God.
resist the devil and he will flee from you."

2011 was such a difficult one for me. the devil
chased me everywhere. so...my Scripture verse
for the new year is in james. not only are we warriors,
GOD is the ultimate Warrior. and i'm done letting
the devil mess with me. i love you all. stand strong.
praise God in All circumstances. and i will speak
to you next week.

i love Jesus.
as we approach 2012. our only real hope is
NOTHING but the Blood of Jesus,

pour it over us. in our hair and down into our souls. and
through our fingertips. let the Blood run into our rivers and
creeks, and the roaring oceans that seem to hold the universe
together. may the waters cleanse us and prepare us for
the good and the bad...the easy and the difficult...the losses and
the gains. and may NO ONE think that ANYTHING other than
the Blood of Jesus is our Song. our Hope. our Stay. i share
this beautiful, pristine and lovely writing of a man who grasped
the shining glory of God. God, Who holds all things in the palm of His hand.

God of all time,
Who makes all things new,
we bring before you the year now ending.
For life full and good.
for opportunities recognized and taken,
for love known and shared,
we thank you.

Where we have fallen short,
forgive us,
When we worry over what is past,
free us.

As we begin again
and take our first few steps into the future,
where nothing is safe and certain,
except You,
we ask for the courage of the wise men
who simply went and followed a star.
We ask for their wisdom,
in choosing to pursue the deepest truth,
not knowing where they would be led.
In the year to come, God of all time,
be our help and company.
Hold our hand as we journey onwards
and may Your dream of Shalom,
where all will be at peace,
be our guiding star.

Francis Brienen

My love and best for 2012. ann

i've been crawling around with the devil
on my back. kicking and swatting at him...
and carried down the swollen banks of darkness
by hanging on to a scratch of Jesus' robes.

slap the drums.
dance with the choir.
out of deep desolation and sinking
despair, hold on to the Ship. the Song.
the ONLY One who knows how to bind our
wounds and keep our dreams from seeping out
of broken places and being swept away from our vision.

i have been so discouraged.
dark and late, with heavy fog, i ran my car into
a center divider. ruined my two left tires and wheels
and leaving the custom-made rims cracked...
it sits at a body shop while i wonder how i'll pay
for the coverage.

my children are spread far apart. two of them work
over the Christmas week-end. one is in dallas. another
in monterey bay finishing his college degree in film, and
has a full-time job. we are all short on money. it's complicated
and we are so close and Christmas is about being together.
and we always have been until now.

several weeks ago, i opened my front door and thought
the devil himself had walked in. someone i didn't know.
and it was the fiercest, darkest spiritual attack i'd ever
experienced. i would lie on the floor at the foot of my bed,
and ask God WHY i had to try and survive this?!!
oh, the Blood of Jesus. He covered it and reigns the Victor.

quiet the drums. the music.
settle into the roar of silence. so quiet we can hear
the air and smell the noise of the breeze against our
skin...

"though the fig tree
does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vine...
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food...
though there are no sheep in the pen,
and no cattle in the stalls...
YET i will rejoice in the Lord...i will be
joyful in God my Savior...
the Sovereign Lord is my strength.
He enables me to go to the heights."
habakkuk 3:17-18

inspite of all our broken pieces,
and the yearnings over our children and
grandbabies, remember to love and help the poor.
to have love radiating on our faces. and know...
just absolutely KNOW...that God will always be
enough.

have a beautiful Christmas, and know that i'm really
a failure in keeping blogs up to date, BUT i truly love
you. my children are recipients of your vast love. you
make us better and richer. ann

roll, oceans, roll.
run rivers run.
purge and cleanse and redeem
us of all the untouched places within
ourselves.

it is only a dark, tiny fist.
locked against the vast, washed sky
of clear mornings and rolling sunsets.

yep!
a tiny fist that takes the glory
of life and the victories promised
right out of the core of all we are and
wish to be. that keeps us stuck and sick.
crooked in our bent. our yearning.

i'm not sure all of you know that almost
two years ago, i went to the gym and ran 15 miles.
that evening i was invited to a home for dinner before
flying out the next day for alabama and a special
event in my honor.

walking out of this home, i tripped, fell and shattered
my left femur and broke my hip. i knew about pain,
but NOT this kind of agony. bone pain wins.
leg swelled three times its normal,
skinny size. i genuinely thought doctors had
transplanted my leg from a corpse in the morgue.
but...

i thrived. that's my m.o...
nurses lined up and watched me fly down the
hall on my walker. i never had to go to a physical
therapy facility. however, suffering became my moan
and plea for relief.

over two weeks ago,
with a rod from my knee to my
hip bone...and screws and pins...
i decided i had to face that little, tiny fist of
blurred struggle planted in my soul. it is not
EVER the SIZE of corruption; just
the fact that it exists.

though i was taking mild pain meds, i knew
how God had once delivered me, and i wanted to see
if i could make it. pill free. checking into a 5-day
detox center, the pain pills were cleansed out of
my system, and i was sent home. i was left with
agonizing pain. insides raw. all endorphins
gone; with weeks to be rejuvenated.
Jesus and i and that tiny speck. doing business.
tough business.

i don't know how to explain this kind of pain.
nothing to soothe the fire that was subdued by
meds. i only know that my enemy is subtle.
slick and smooth in making us believe those
little rocks of trouble that grow in us are easily
wished away. that they are nothing.

so...my dear friends...
just check and evaluate. is there
a little, seemingly-inocuous fist planted
somewhere in you. take the leap.
remember courage isn't generated from
within us. courage is a gift from God.

roll, oceans, roll.
run, rivers, run.
until we are purified
and ready for the great things
You have for our tomorrow.

many of you are way ahead of me.
don't have this scratch of darkness.
pray for us who do. i genuinely
love you all, and pray you will forgive
me for my first blog in two months.
just trying to do my
Master's business.
i deeply love you all.

shine stars. shine on.
i already hear the music.

i had one of those dreams you
don't ever want to awaken from. I was, say
28 yrs. old. lithe and willowy and dressed in
wrinkled linen. a flower pinned in my hair.
a large room. somewhere in the south. packed
crowd who had hired my father to be their pastor.
that frightened me because he was so human.
so...i smiled. radiantly. holding a beautiful, frizzy-
haired little girl that we, as a family, had adopted...and
adored. love rained down. and i felt ebbulliant. captured
with joy. of course, my father had not spoken yet.

george clooney was even in the dream. eyes focused
on me. flirting. obviously, a fantasy. i haven't ever...even...
dreamed of a movie star. nor has one, i'm positive,
ever dreamed of me.

the sun slid into my bedroom.
spilling the reality that night was done.
over. and i awakened to reality. i am no
longer young. my children are 22, 23, 26, 27.
my hair has to be high-lighted. often, i am yanking
little white hairs from their roots.

the most beautiful, shivering joy that remains
unmarred is my pure passion for Jesus...and my
sons. every day, i search for opportunities to speak
the name of Jesus. so much POWER in just saying
His Name. and my children? i am the
richest lady on earth because i get to be the mother
of taylor, brock, colson, and brandt. we have had
so many hardships that not even silly contradictions
among us quiver with the raw, tight, coarse rope of love
that binds us. uh-huh!!! when one of my sons calls, and
i am on my way out the door. arms loaded with stuff, and
lots to get done. i stop. drop everything to the floor.
plop down. and listen. silently praying for God to guide
me in advising them. God's given us so MANY answers
and promises in those moments.

if you are younger than 55 yrs. of age,
listen to those who have walked much farther
down the road. shhhh. listen. hear the rushing
water of lessons learned. let the roar of trouble
lead you to those who have lived long enough
to know the ways of God. roar, waters, roar. then...
quiet us so we can hear and see and brush the
troubles far enough beyond us that the
music becomes a choir.

please forgive this blog.
i typed an original story of hope,
and realized that only the first few lines
were all that took hold. everything else was gone. disappeared.

don't let magnificent dreams
excuse you from the adventures
that can only be learned by the laid out
footprints of rugged, holy living. remember,
dreams can only live if they first die. and
sunrises come when we finally lay down our
sorrows, and keep our faces turned skyward.

Jesus lives. Jesus lives.
hallelujah, He reigns.

is someone reading this blog
have a perfect child? or someone who
believes he or she has perfected a piece of living?
being a parent. or wife. or writer or pro football player?

because,
i want to meet you or your child.
just to see what pefection looks like.

all my life, i have wanted to be perfect for
Jesus. strong enough to see my father happy
because, somehow, my brother would become
a Christian. and protect jan, my twin, from harm.
i vowed, in my young adult mind and heart, to never
disappoint the Lord. you know. to stand strong and faithful.
to stay pure until marriage. have an amazing relationship with
my husband, and deliver babies that were going to set the
world on fire for Jesus.

well, my babies were just about perfect. and
today, they are strong. resilient. unbelieveably
precious to me. but they are special because of
Jesus. never ever have i parented perfectly. and
NEVER will they make it without deep devotion to
the Savior. uh-huh...i've failed in almost everything
i had vowed before God to be.

BECAUSE WE ARE ALL BROKEN,
yep, every one of us.

but,
every morning, the sun rises.
every evening it slowly dips down
and touches the long, often golden horizon.

when we need food or friends or a touch
of sunrise in our lives, He provides. comes through.
makes a way. not because we are perfected.
NEVER. just because He so LOVES us. He tells us
to not seek great things for ourselves. that He loves
the meek and the broken. that He understands we are
dust. He knows our frame.

so, for all of you today,
living with the repercussions of disobedience
and sin, i sing to you. a beautiful song. of love and
redemption and the pure chords of deliverance.
you will find the music by reading psalm 91, the Living Bible.

i have messed up alot.
have gotten lost and confused.
but i know it is my difficult journey that
draws us together. i love you. let us sing
the song together. and listen for the roar of the
oceans and see the giant redwoods and laugh with
friends over even silly things, and utterly understand
that nothing is too hard for God. He lives. oh, yes,
He lives.