King David

Okay, I tried to let it go, but I've had four cups of coffee and can't. Gov. Sanford of South Carolina compared himself to King David: who saw another man's wife and took her.

I'm not going to talk about Governor Sanford, that's his business. Although they've sort of made it the world's business by calling in the media. But I think there are a few issues there that need to be cleared up about David.

He's been used as a scapegoat for bad choices for years. "Well, David did it and he was still a great man of God."

TRUE.

God's grace covers a multitude of sins. No doubt, God forgave David. But does that mean David's sin was okay with God?

A year ago we did a study of David.
This is what we learned. If David had been serving his people, he wouldn't have been at home, watching Bathseba take a bath. HE would have been away, leading his men who were fighting a battle. David had momentarily forgotten his duties to his people.

WHY? Maybe he was distracted, or tired, maybe he'd forgotten the calling God had put on his life. There are a lot of reasons that we get distracted. There are things that distract us.

There are steps that take people from temptation to sin.

Step One: David wasn't where he was supposed to be. If he had been, he wouldn't have gotten into the trouble with Bathsheba. How many of us get into trouble because we aren't where we are supposed to be?

Step Two: David looked at Bathsheba. He was tempted. He could have put on his big boy robe and turned away. Instead he acted on the temptation.

Thus is the fall of man. (and woman) It isn't the temptation that gets us, it's acting on the temptation. It happens to all of us, probably daily. It's just that not all sins hurt the way David's sin hurt the people in his life.

Step Three. David didn't immediately repent. Once he'd taken Bathsheba, he could have recognized his mistake and sent her away. Instead he kept going. He not only looked at Bathsheba, he acted on his temptation and had her brought to him. And then he tried to cover up his mistake by creating a bigger problem for himself: having her husband murdered. The chain reaction of sin.

THE FINAL VERDICT: Consequences. I'm constantly telling my kids to make good choices, because there are consequences. Bad choices follow us for a long time. The child David had with Bathsheba died. That pain stayed with him, I'm sure for the rest of his life.

David was redeemed by God's love. But he didn't walk away unscathed.

I wonder if there was a moment when he recognized that what he was doing was wrong? Did he have a moment when he knew that he shouldn't, but he told himself that it wouldn't matter? Did he tell himself it was his decision to make, and no one would get hurt?

Did he drop his guard because he thought he was such a great servant of God, he couldn't possibly be tempted to do something like take another man's wife?

And how many people were hurt by the choices he made? His wife was hurt. Bathsheba. His son. Bathsheba's husband. The people he dragged into his scheme, the ones who were ordered to carry out his plans. And the people of his land. People who looked up to him. His children.
God.

In the end, he did find his path back to God. He was a great man of God. His is a story of Redemption.


This is a little different for me and I hope you'll forgive me for going in a new direction with today's post but this was on my heart and I have a bad habit of speaking, and then regretting. Hmmm, also not a good thing. I need to work on that.

life in the country

It's 3:00 in the morning...who will you call? I know that when an emergency strikes at my house...wake up the husband. If you can. Sometimes he's snoring too loud to hear anything.

3:30 am last night, the dogs start to growl, and then bark. Shhh, be quiet. They finally listen. I hear what they heard. Horse's hooves clip-clopping down the road. HUH? At 3:30 am? I climb out of bed, sneak to the window (like the horse is going to jump out of the bushes and get me). Yep, sure enough, horses. A car driving down the road catches them in headlights. Wait, what are cars doing driving down my road at 3:30? There were a half dozen in the time that i stood on the porch. We'll have to investigate that on another night. Maybe follow and see where they're going, since there is nothing out here to go to.

Back to the horses. I wake up my husband. Horses, going down the road. A sane man would have said, "Honey, go back to sleep." But, as usual, I convince him this is some big mystery and not someone out for a nice ride in the cool of the...evening? Horse Thieves! He gets up, goes out. Sure enough, he sees them too. We look to the field west of us. Are all of the mules out there? I suddenly can't count to four. There might only be three. He gets his car keys. Oh, wait, there are four. But what about the one at the neighbor's house? What if IT isn't there.
Husband goes down the road in the car. Two men on horseback.
He drives back to the location of the lone mule, to make sure it is there. He drives up the neighbor's drive, shines headlights all over. CALLS and WAKES UP the sleeping neighbor. "Where's your mule?"
I'm laughing just thinking about the poor guy at, by now, 4:00 am, getting this phone call.
The mule is there--of course.
Husband comes home. He can't sleep. Funny, cause I'm already back in bed, dozing off. I closed the door so I wouldn't have to hear him stomping around the house.

Who says life in the country isn't exciting?

spa day

I had a great time at the salon yesterday. My family gave me a gift card for a spa day. Massage, pedicure, manicure, facial. It was wonderful, relaxing, and everything it should have been.

Back to the facial. I'm sure I look younger. But the 'slight tingle' she warned of was actually a horrible burn that felt like jalapeno juice being poured in an open wound.

That's how I described it.

So why did my daughter announce at VBS that I had a great time, but the facial was hotter than (insert certain very hot location).

Yes, she did that.

Big Girl Hair!

Vanity, all is vanity. But I have to tell you people, having straight hair for a day or two makes me feel like a grown-up...as opposed to my normal pretty juvenile self. I seriously do think I act more serious, more together when the hair is straight.

But it won't last. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, humidity will come, it might rain, or I'll eventually have to wash it. The curls will be back. And so will my normal disorganized, crazy self.

But for today, my straight-hair self is feeling pretty grown-up.

And if you're wondering about Dad. I think it's better if he's visited by Curly Sue, because Straight Haired Me might be a bit too much.

church with Dad

Last night we had our bi-monthly service at the nursing home. My dad went to church with us. As we were sitting there together, singing WONDERFUL WORDS OF LIFE, I realized that it was only the second time in my life that we'd gone to church together. (both times have been in the nursing home) And aI realized that he knew all of the words to the song we were singing.

It was a sweet moment, until he started acting like me.
So, my third realization of the night: I AM MY FATHER'S DAUGHTER.
As my husband preached on, both Dad and I started to look at our watches and get a little antsy. And then dad started to whisper words that shouldn't be whispered in church. He went on to talk about my husband being a little long winded and the fact that old people can't sit that long. It went from there to, "Well, I'm outta here. Time for my smoke break."

There were sweet moments last night. A dear older man sang a song that his father used to sing, about reading the Bible in a cabin by the sea. One lady shared with me that she taught school until she was 80, and that she started to go down hill after retiring. She's nearly 100 now, she says, and she just isn't doing as good as she used to.

My dad isn't as independent as these two. He lives on a locked unit with people that he's known for years, and none of them know each other now. I think that's one of the saddest things about the disease of alzheimers. They can't sit and talk about the old days, or compare pictures of their grandchildren. They don't play bingo. Instead they play games trying to remember the state they live in and the month of the year. They were robbed of their golden years.

Yesterday a lady who was once the librarian in our small town stood inside while I sat outside with my dad. She waved and whispered that she'd like to come outside with us. It was hard, leaving her inside. This disease has made them prisoners in so many ways. They're locked inside a nursing home hall, a place they never leave and where few people visit. To make it worse, they are locked inside a mind that no longer remembers who they were.

My dad remembers me. He remembers bits and pieces of who he was. Nothing makes me happier than when he sees me walk through the doors, he smiles and says, "Hey brat."
I cherish these moments when he is still my dad.