August heat and positive COVID-19 numbers continue to rise. I’m weary; how about you? I find myself clinging to words of Truth and songs of testimony. My Redeemer is Faithful and True and No One Ever Cared for Me Like Jesus have been a frequent source of encouragement in these days of isolation.

Be blessed by the lyrics of the latter.

If my heart could tell a story                                              If my life would sing a song.                                              If I have a testimony                                                           If I have anything at all

No one ever cared for me like Jesus
His faithful hand has held me all this way
And when I'm old and grey
And all my days are numbered on the earth
Let it be known in you alone
My joy was found
Oh my joy, my joy

Let my children tell their children
Let this be their memory
That all my treasure was in heaven
And you were everything to me

No one ever cared for me like Jesus
His faithful hand has held me all this way
And when I'm old and grey
And all my days are numbered on the earth
Let it be known in you alone
My joy was found
I've found my joy

I'm still in love
Your still enough for me
Still all I want
Your still my everything
I'm still in love
Your still enough for me
Still all I want
Your still my everything

No one ever cared for me like Jesus
His faithful hand has held me all this way
And when I'm old and grey
And all my days are numbered on the earth
Let it be known in you alone
My joy was found

My Redeemer is Faithful and True-Stephen Curtis Chapman 

No One Ever Cared For Me Like Jesus-Jason Ingram / Steffany Gretzinger / Chandler Moore / Dante Bowe

(I love the Weigle hymn by the same title.)

Surviving the pandemic

My lockdown projects continue...I’m tackling one drawer at a time, organizing, donating, pitching. 
This week I turned to my closet. Voila; my growing donation bag of “I might wear that again someday.” 

I’ll spare you the “what kind of person would even think of donating this” pile. 
Then, it occurred to me, “Why am I reserving the good stuff for when this monster is over?” So, my new plan has included dressing for the day...well, most days. Nice casual and a touch of jewelry! And what a change in my outlook...perhaps a bit like making one’s bed each morning. My job is to live; not when we’re less than six feet away or maskless again, but right now, in the middle of hard. Live with purpose...live with kindness...live with beauty. 
This task has not been all work, though. 
I loved a summer blouse, but it was pretty scary on my body. I suppose a little bit of 70’s goes a long way, so I repurposed it into a scarf. And a denim dress is now ready for the fall as a fun duster. 

 

Each week, I’m asking God how He plans to repurpose my time alone...and then, trusting.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

Seems as if I have no one to talk to today but the blog. Getting desperate, I suppose. 

Progress report after almost four months:
Five puzzles
Seventeen jillion cotton masks (I’ve perfected the pattern!)
One toddler “mermaid princess” dress
One boho crossbody bag on the loom
Umpteen books (five unfinished)
Four decorated windows for the little quarantined preschooler across the street
Four birthday drive-by parties
One shut-in ministry up and running on its own (too many cards , phone calls and emails to count!)
Two dozen 70’s albums
Thirty plus online concerts
Dozens of virtual museum and biking tours
One Children’s Literature course
Three medical courses
One unfinished painting. 
and a constantly messy kitchen!

Things, I’ve discovered:
I adore bright colors and I’m over grey walls. (Too bad, non-negotiable!)
Living rooms can be multifunctional: art studio, library, dance floor...because windows to the neighborhood are essential. 
I’m totally in love with gemstones from New Mexico (But American Express, it’s still cheaper than a trip to The Land of Enchantment.)
My senior pass to our national parks sits idly with that little blue passport. Both are pouting. 
Senior hours are essential and entertaining. 
Sometimes, one must turn off the seriousness of a pandemic. 

Thanks, blog for listening to my pandemic drivel. Brace yourself for the next four months! This ain’t over yet. 

May His favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
Your family and your children
And their children, and their children

There are no words for watching your firstborn son watch his firstborn son play on the resting place of his grandfather. Such emotion has no voice. 

The images 

Searing, hopeful, alarming, indelible 

Many from yesterday’s protest in Houston 

One inescapable 

A young man repeatedly shouting “Pig” at a police officer 

Spewing profanities inches from her protective face shield 

This is wrong, too.

These are my friends. They rescue the trafficked, trapped and used, in our city. They keep me safe in my pew. They are hardworking parents. They love their city. 

This is wrong. 

This...

Because there are too many voices drowning out the only ones that matter. 

Because my voice seems insignificant right now, but my prayers are not. 

Listen closely to my prayer, O LORD; hear my urgent cry.    Psalm 86:6 NLT