I have jet lag.... and that is not bad enough... I also have a runny nose, itchy watery eyes.  the sore throat is gone, but I feel like I can't keep up with conversations, or anything... So many people all around and all are people i love and want to be around... but i find myself with a headache and feeling almost as bad as i did when i had babies, and just wish everyone would go away.....  i am bushed... and feel like i have maybe been run over by a truck... I really feel crappy... 

Then to make matters 40 million times worse, mom handed me my birth certificates to me at seatac, we had a lot of hubbub and distractions there and it continued until we boarded the plane, and i have NO idea where i lost them... buy i do not have them anywhere with me... so i guess i need to report them missing... in case someone tries to use them... I don't think I have ever even seen them...

i am sure that getting up on Saturday at 6:25 in the morning did not help anything... and it was a long day... Then today went to Charlotte, thrift stores for too long... Tomorrow talk is we will try to go to Billy Graham library... I just hope i feel better...  Right now I just want to die... maybe. not, but close.

plus the weather is hot... and humid... really muggy... and the houses and stores are cool... thank GOD!!  But somehow, neither the heat and humidity outside is wonderful, nor is the air conditioning inside...   But hopefully i will soon adjust... 

And then we had this glorious storm tonight.  gullywashing rain!!  Thunder!!  lots of rain.  I went out on the porch thinking it would be cool and refreshing... NOT!!  It was hot and muggy kinda like the laundry room when we are washing and drying clothes!! maybe not as hot, but definitely NOT refreshing... sweltering is more like it..
well, maybe tomorrow will be better...
At least I am reading a good, interesting book...  The Other Daughter... By somebody or other..

josh called tonight wanting to know how to get tang out of the carpet... I guess my remedy didn't quite work... and I felt so crappy that i wasn't as kind as i should have been... how to feel crappy and yet be nice and happy I haven't mastered.  I guess Ruth Bell Graham's tombstone reads, Construction complete... or something like that... Well I am still under construction.. and reconstruction, and remodelling....

Thou art the Lord who slept upon the pillow; Thou art the Lord who soothed the furious sea. What matter beating wind and tossing billow If only we are in the boat with Thee?

Hold us in quiet through the age-long minute While Thou art silent, and the wind is shrill: Can the boat sink while Thou, dear Lord, art in it? Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?--Amy Carmichael

Hast thou no scar

Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land,
I hear them hail thy bright ascendant star,
Hast thou no scar?

No wound? No scar?
Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me;
But thine are whole. Can he have followed far
Who has nor wound nor scar?

Flame Of God

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.
From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified)
From all that dims Thy Calvary
O Lamb of God, deliver me.
Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire;
Let me not sink to be a clod;
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God

God of the Stars

I am the God of the stars.
They do not lose their way;
Not one do I mislay.
Their times are in My Hand;
They move at My command.

I am the God of the stars,
Today, as yesterday,
The God of thee and thine,
Less thine they are than Mine;
And shall Mine go astray?

I am the God of the stars.
Life up thine eyes and see
As far as mortal may
Into Eternity;
And stay thy heart on Me.

So Near

Below, above, around thee everywhere--
So is My love, like clearness of blue air.

To find the air so high and yet so low,
Tell Me, belovéd, hast thou far to go?
***
So high, so low--but I had thought Thee far,
Remote, aloof, like glory of a star.

And is the way of love so near to me?
Then by that way I come; I come to Thee.

Empty, We Come

O Love of loves, we have no good to bring Thee,
No single good of all our hands have wrought.
No worthy music have we found to sing Thee,
No jeweled word, no quick up-soaring thought.

And yet we come; and when our faith would falter
Show us, O Lord, the quiet place of prayer,
The golden censer and the golden altar,
And the great angel waiting for us there.

Hope Through Me

Hope through me, God of Hope,
Or never can I know
Deep wells and living streams of hope,
And pools of overflow.

Flood me with hope today
For souls perverse, undone,
For sinful souls that turn away,
Blind sunflowers, from their Sun.

O blesséd Hope of God,
Flow through me patiently,
Until I hope for everyone
As Thou hast hoped for me.


Spirit, Work in Me

Spirit Divine, work in me holiness,
Purity, pity for the world's distress.
But O let hope, Thy quenchless hope, prevail,
Lest I should faint and fail.

Then as the incense from the golden bowl
Rose up to Thee, so from my quiet soul
Let prayer arise--a little, quiet cloud--
To Thee, my listening God.

I think maybe this one is one is most like my life:

Once, being of a flute in need,
The Heavenly Shepherd sought
Until He found a bruised reed;
It was as if He thought
It precious; for aloud said He,
"This broken reed will do for Me."
It heard the kind word wonderingly,
Being a thing of naught.

And then that Lover of sweet sound,
No single note to lose,
Himself repaired the reed He found,
Well skilled such things to use.
This done, a happy melody
He whistled through it; "Now," said He,
"This flute of Mine shall stay by Me."
Thus He His flute did choose.

He said, "I play My country airs
The which do some displease;
But others, listening, find their cares
To pass, and sweet heartsease
Begin to blossom; and ," said He
Unto His flute, "Thou, dear, with Me,
Wilt, making gentle minstrelsy,
Be comforter to these."

"Be comforter!" O bruised reed,
Dost seem a thing apart
From usual life of flowery mead?
What it, by His great art,
Perceiving what thou know'st not, He
Saith even now, "Yea, thou shalt be,
O broken reed, a flute for Me"?
O broken life, take heart.

Mender of Broken Reeds

O patient Lover,

'Tis love my brother needs,

Make me a lover

That this poor Reed

May be mended,

And turned for Thee;

O Lord, of even me,

Make a true lover.

—Amy Carmichael