called to stand here

Every new start has to contend with its fits. Fits and starts. Mine goes like this: I'm mulling this turning concept ( see previous post ), but I'm up against the list. Most everyone I know has a list. On mine this week, at the top, is Jasmine's dedication. Jasmine is a special gift from the Lord to Margy and me. Jas came into our lives almost three years ago as a foster daughter who became our adopted daughter at the end of last September. What joy and energy in this girl! So we gave her the middle name Joy. Another fit. So next Sunday we dedicate Jasmine to the Lord. As a gift, this corresponds to what Hannah and Elkanah did with Samuel, although less extremely: they gave their son to God (with the priest as proxy) as a loan for life. For us, it's a public testimony (like a baptism is) of our commitment to raise her in a community of faith in Christ, and also a great opportunity to get together with family and friends and share this milestone in our lives. That's ...

Sunday. Fog. Snow rots in the ditches, but robins aren't far off. That's March in Mankato. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. I'm not suggesting an association of Mankato with the valley of death, despite the rich reality that Mankato is in the heart of southern Minnesota's river (valley) country . No, the valley of the shadow of death is a place in the heart, not a place on a map. Its geography is spiritual, mostly, although it might have a different location in another's experience I don't know about. It's a place I've spent some time in while thinking I wasn't really there at all (denial isn't just a river in Egypt). But there I was, and am at risk for finding myself there again if I don't stand against the beaconing call to visit, or worse: to live there. The end of a weak winter in Mankato incites the hope for a breakthrough in the soul as in the seasons. It's time...