The Chronicles of Janie

Fall time is quickening time. A time when the warm months are hasting towards winter, a time when all the creatures are quickly preparing to move South, and a time when I suddenly realize that there are things to do, and I really should be doing them. Accordingly, I spent a great deal of time outdoors today. Mostly, I did a lot of odd jobs around the barn. These jobs have needed doing for awhile, but the recent influx of livestock have made the actual accomplishment of them necessary. The horse stall is clean, the blue gate now stays open, the hay-feeding system has been rendered more efficient, and there are enough barrels in the tack room to store the feed properly. So, when the tasks were done, I sat down outside of the barn to savor the day and the pleasant sense of accomplishment I felt. Silver and Lassie, who had been my faithful shadows, saw an opportunity to get some attention. They came crowding around, mobbing me with cold noses and offering to shake hands. It is odd t...

Is it just me, or does my new background look like the woods of Amon Hen?

"Your greatest strength is often also your greatest weakness." This is something that Dad said a few days ago, and I've been thinking about it a lot. I've come to the conclusion that your greatest weakness can also become your greatest strength. The problems in our lives can not only serve to make us stronger, but can also help us relate to and strengthen others. So, how can I make my weaknesses in to strengths? How can I ensure that my strengths don't become weaknesses? Turn them all over to God, of course.

There is something wrong with the church in America. There is something wrong with the Christians in America. We don't need God. Or at least, we think that we don't. The heroes of our culture, the people we look up to, are tough, and don't need help from anybody, they can make it on their own. Self-sufficiency is held up as a virtue. Being self-sufficient isn't bad, but it can, and often is, carried too far. It becomes pride and arrogance. We Americans regard ourselves as the 'good guys', the saviors of the rest of the world. Everyone does (or should) look up to us. This prideful attitude carries over into Christianity. Think how different our lives would be if we realized we had to depend on God's mercy for everything: food, clothes, safety. Instead, we say, "God, I'll give You what You want, if You'll give me what I want." We really don't like terms like 'total surrender'. Terms like that imply that God doesn't owe us any...

I have lived my life in a little, self-made box. No, this isn't because I am home-schooled. I wish I could blame it on that, instead of placing the blame where it really belongs, on myself. The more I get to know God, the more I realize that I should be making an impact on my world. A difference that will spread like ripples on a pond. Yet, I choose to ignore God's voice when He tells me to do something I'm not comfortable with. I'm not really making a difference. I'm not shaking the world. I am comfortable; secure in my small, safe acquaintanceship. So, what am I going to do about it? Nothing? I can do nothing, in my own power. I must allow God to work in me, so that I can truly die to myself. If I will humble myself before God, surrender entirely to Him, then He will do His best through me. His best, which is so much greater than the best I can do. Am I ready to be snatched out of my comfort zone? No, I'll never be ready for that, but God is. All I have to do...

I don't like cleaning. I like things to be clean, but I am not fond of the process involved in getting them that way. So I think that it is rather ironic that my first three jobs should be cleaning the houses of elderly people. My first job was working for the Gardners. It was a rather daunting task, when I took into consideration that Ruth Gardner had gone through several other cleaners before she got to me. She was very particular. Not mean. Just particular. I threw myself fervently into that job, just knowing that I would die of embarrassment if I didn't pass muster. Her house was full of lovely, priceless antiques. It was very hard to dust everything, and she always saw the places that I missed. She would tell me next week, "be sure to dust the headboards of our beds. They are really dirty." I would ashamedly wish that the floor would open and engulf me. Sometimes, Ruth would tell me the history of the things that I dusted. I usually enjoyed this, but there w...