Though he stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand. Psalm 37:24 NIV
“Spencer! Spencer!” Amy called around the house looking for her son. Hearing stumbling from above, she walked to the stairs. On the top stair was Spencer – seizing. In distress, he had been searching for his mother. He knew she would help him through this storm. Like a dance they rehearsed, each knew their parts – neither chose them. His head drawn, voice gone, and arm jerking; he tried to take a step.
And fell – into the arms of his mother.
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When he pulled that pepper shaker out of the bag I almost laughed out loud. 
Fourteen years earlier we stood on separate aisles of Target – me with crossed arms and him wondering if we would ever make it. With scanner gun in hand, I stared at the rows of salt and pepper shakers. Wooden? How could I possibly season my food with wooden salt and pepper shakers?
As Alan and I registered for our upcoming wedding, we hadn’t anticipated the sometimes-uneven start of zipping two lives together. After dating six years, we were more than ready to marry. I’d dreamed of this very event since our high school trigonometry class where we met and fell in love.
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Yep. I watch it all right.
I’ll admit some of the outfits aren’t made with as much material as my great-grandmother’s hankies, but I can’t help but watch Dancing With the Stars. I’m drawn in each week as the ladies spin and twirl and the gentlemen dip and swagger.
With breath held, I lean towards the television set hoping no one falls or worse – has a wardrobe malfunction. Then I wait to see how the judges respond to the footwork, chemistry, and choreography.
More often than not, my take on the dance differs greatly from the judges. They are quite critical, pointing out the tiniest missteps, while I’m on my feet clapping at the beauty of it all.
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Love is patient, love is kind. 1 Corinthians 13:4
“Lord, please strike him with a holy bolt of lightning,” I prayed. “No real damage. Just enough to scorch him a little.”
Okay, so I don’t normally pray for my husband’s ruin, but let me explain what happened.
It was a Friday night when Grace was still four months old. I heard her in the monitor and tapped my husband, mumbling something like, “Grshisup.” He stumbled from the bed and down the hall. I followed to make him a bottle and then flopped back in bed. Minutes later, my sleep bubble burst when Alan stomped in our room.
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The smell was so bad he was embarrassed to take friends to lunch.
My husband drove a burgundy Saturn in the early days of our marriage. And it stunk. For a male, a little stink in a car is like a trophy. What guy wants his wheels to smell of strawberries and roses?
But over time, the smell was more than he could bear. He tried scented pine trees fresheners. When that didn’t work, he put oil of wintergreen on cotton balls under the seats.
No matter how he tried to mask the terrible odor, it remained. When co-workers suggested lunch outings, Alan cringed at the thought of shuttling friends in the stink-mobile, and rolled down the windows to blow the stench away.
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With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible. Matthew 19:26 NIV
photo © 2005 Luca Masters | more info (via: Wylio)
Have you ever thought about the power of the conjunction? A conjunction connects words, phrases, or clauses. It builds bridges between words, pathways linking words that may have otherwise never been united. One of my favorite popular and powerful conjunctions is but. A sentence can skip along in one direction, then with the addition of one little conjunction, the meaning can stop and march the other way.
Really. It’s that powerful. Here is an example.
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I’m a self-proclaimed neat freak who is drawn to the messy. 
Yeah, before you say it, I know. I’m a walking dichotomy.
In college, a clean dorm room was a must. Curling iron and hair dryer cords were wrapped and put away. Makeup brushes nestled inside my Caboodle, and dresser drawers were always pushed shut.
Down the hall, I had two friends who were just the opposite. Their dresser was covered with hair rollers and lip-gloss tubes. On the mirror, they wrote with eye pencils. Books and papers were sprinkled on their desks, and yesterday’s clothes could probably be spotted somewhere on the floor.
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I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8
Lack of sleep can endanger lives. I listened to the news report and let out a laugh. The story was about new attempts to shorten the hours doctors work in their first year of residency. Instead of twenty-four hour shifts, it was suggested that newbies should only have to work sixteen. I tried to count the hours of sleep I’d had the night before, but didn’t have the mental capacity.
Grace is my third child, but I still struggle with lack of sleep.
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