Puking on Christmas

There was this one Christmas.

My oldest son standing at the top of the stairs throwing up. His younger brother could sleep Christmas morning away, reasoning that he had all day, and all school vacation to tear open and play with Santa’s loot, but not him. My oldest rarely fell asleep on that hallowed eve. He pestered his little brother until the youngest one conceded, and CAME DOWNSTAIRS BECAUSE SANTA HAS COME. My oldest couldn’t bear to close his eyes in anticipation of what the upcoming day would bring–Santa, family, celebration, church, joy–a day when the ordinary becomes extraordinary. He couldn’t bear for the day to have a flaw in it, and there he was, doubled over puking, unable to walk down the stairs. 

I could not fix it. I always thought I was supposed too. But, in less than 24 hours I’d have my head over a toilet while he played with his Christmas toys, sipping ginger ale. The day is sometimes just too much. It can be filled with so much anticipation that it rarely meets the expectation.

My oldest son now celebrates Christmas with his two year old, and wife. The two year old, my little Miss Priss, is more like her mother than her father, she takes the hits of life with a little thicker skin.

Miss Priss Decorating Her Tree

Miss Priss Decorating Her Tree

This year, on our way home from Christmas morning church service, I told the oldest, “I’m glad we go to church.” He didn’t respond because me being glad about being in church is not news to him. “Otherwise the day would be anti-climatic,” I said.  “After all the anticipation, and then the Christmas morning madness, if there was no church service to remind us that Jesus has come, well, it’s a let-down. But church does reminds us, and so its okay if the day isn’t perfect.”

My oldest thought about that for a second, reminding me of his father as he shifted gears, and made a right turn. He even bites his lip like his father does. He responded, “Agreed.”

I thought, I fixed it. I fixed that Christmas morning when he was puking, I fixed it for all of us. Or perhaps I should say, Jesus did.

Let’s Talk Tattoos

First, I’ll confess, I’m not a fan of tattoos, but hang on before you click off, I will support said tattoos by the end of this blog post. And, for the bonus, I’ll explain why Leviticus 19:28 doesn’t apply.

First, why I’m not a fan.

Simple. I love the human body as is.  At 19, I really enjoyed my body. Not in an arrogant way. I was still pretty naive, and did not think of myself as sexy or beautiful. I was just me. I just enjoyed my toes, my feet, my legs, my arms. I thought my body was pretty. I thought most people’s bodies were. Even my old aunts with wiggly arms.

I was at an advantage. In the 60s and 70s, celebrities were present but not prevalent  Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie (whoever their equivalent was) did not dominate my life. Yes, I swooned over actors at movies, though I can’t remember who now. But, I didn’t take them home with me. They stayed at the theaters. Magazines were fun to look at, but again, they weren’t telling me to get thinner or have my teeth capped. They were telling me how to lighten my hair with lemon juice, something I did regularly.

So, for me. The human body is a work of art. When someone tattoos it, it is like vandalizing to my mind. You just threw paint on something beautiful and frankly, I’ve never seen a tattoo I thought was prettier than the body it adorned. I’ve never seen a tattoo artist make a body prettier with their work. That body, to my thinking, is art. Perfect, beautiful art. To add to it, just messes it up.

So, there, my opinion. Do what you like with it.

But, in this ever-increasing battle of the Christian vs. the non, the subject of tattoos comes up regularly. My son has two (and no, I don’t like either one, but it is his body), and I’m often asked, “I thought he was a Christian?” by believers and non, who assume Christians cannot tattoo themselves. This belief is based on Leviticus 19:28 where it says,

28 You shall not make any cuts on your body for the dead or tattoo yourselves: I am the Lord.

I’m not getting into the discussion of the cuts on your body. I’m just hoping you’re not doing that. But, for the tattoo part, what do I say to my Christian son about that verse? I say God gave that law to the Israelites as they began to make their journey into the land he promised them, Canaan. He gave them their civil laws and their ceremonial laws. He also gave them the 10 commandments which sum up all laws.

These laws are found in the Books of the Law, or the first five books of Scripture. They are called the books of the law because they contain the laws and instruction given by the Lord through Moses to the people of Israel.

Many generations before, God had promised Abraham that he would build a nation through him. Several million people later, and forty years of wandering around in the wilderness, and a lot of discussion going on about what their now-to-be-country would look like, they were ready to enter and take over the land from the Canaanites (if that frustrates you, that is another topic, sorry).

So, God gave them their civil laws and their ceremonial laws. Basically, how they would worship and live. Tattoos were out. Here’s why. They were to stand out. They were to be different from the nations around them. God wanted the pagans to know, there goes an Israelite. A man or a woman who belongs to God. Israel actually started their government with no human king on the throne. God was their king. Everything about their country was different, which made each individual different, which made them stand out like a sore thumb, which made people look at and wonder about them.

They weren’t to fit in or blend. They were to STAND OUT. And, In that culture, not being tattooed or cutting yourself would make you stand out because the Canaanites were heavily tattooed. The Canaanites worshiped their god Baal by burning their babies in fires, and a lot of other not-so-great-things one would hope not to mimic.

Hence, the second reason for not having tattoos.  When one steps a foot into the fire (no pun intended), it is a slippery slope. God wanted his people to stay away from such practices (in the end they did not). And, as I have often asked my children, if someone is sitting in a chair and you’re on the floor in front of them, which is easier? To pull them down, or for them to pull you up? Downward is always easier.

God wanted his people to look upward toward him.

There is so much more to this subject than I’m writing here, but suffice it to say, that law in Leviticus was part of the civil law for the Israelites. It doesn’t apply to us as Christians, primarily because we aren’t living in Israel and even more primarily because Jesus Christ fulfilled the law–all of it–even the 10 commandments. He did not break one law in thought, word or deed. So, we are no longer under the law, though we are compelled by it. Compelled but not judged, because Jesus took our penalty for the laws we break daily.

So, if tattoos are your thing, Christian or not, then go for it. It isn’t Scriptural to say you cannot.

Still, the spirit of law touches my heart. How do I as a Christian stand out as different from the world around me? Do others look at me and say, she is a Christian? She belongs to God? Or do I blend?

At this point, I’m not interested in tattoos for myself, but there are plenty of other ways I likely blend without realizing it. And compromise my beliefs. And, deny Christ so I don’t make waves, or be rejected. Its all something to think about, I suppose.

But, I do hope at 54, I can love my wiggly arms as much as I loved my aunt’s.

Apple Gentleness the fruit of surrender

God’s Will in Our Lives

Kindness begins toward God. It is that attitude of the spirit by which we accept God’s dealings with us as good and do not dispute or resist.

In Galatians 5:22, gentleness is listed as one of the 9 characteristics of the Fruit of the Spirit. It is from the Greek word, prautes, and is defined in the NIV Key Word Study Bible as “meek…but not in a man’s outward behavior only, nor in his relations to his fellow men, or his mere disposition, but in an in wrought grace of the soul expressed primarily toward God.

How much of life is spent disputing God? Not that he is God, but his dealings with us?

The opposite of resisting is submitting, and who wants to do that? Whether in regard to other people–submitting to their needs first–or to God? Submission is complete surrender. It is letting go of your right to decide and putting your life into God’s hands. Many say, “If I knew God’s will for my life, I would submit to it.” The fact that we’e searching for God’s will is evidenced by the extraordinary number of Bible studies exploring this very topic. Walk into any Christian bookstore and some variant of “Discovering God’s Will for Your Life” is front and center.

Back up a minute. Submit to his will first and then know his will? That’s confusing. 

Before we begin seeking God’s will in our lives, we need to first submit to God’s will in our lives. If we don’t, we’re only playing games with ourselves and with God, because what we’re really saying is, you tell me what you will for my life is first, then I’ll you if I will submit (or resist).

The NIV commentary goes on to say, “Prautes is the acceptance of God’s dealings with us, considering them as good, considering that they enhance the closeness of our relationship with Him.” In other words, God is first seeking a relationship with us, one built on trust and submission, before we get down to any business of what His will is or is not.

Let’s be honest: when we say we’re looking for His will, generally we’re either looking for a way out or a way in. We want into, or out of—a marriage, a job, a ministry, a neighborhood, a house. It’s all about solving our immediate problems, but God’s Word says, “Seek me first and all this will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33)

There should come a time in every believer’s life when we finally understand that God is good and His dealings with us–even when we cannot understand them and they bring us to our knees sobbing–are good. Disputing this with Him assumes your thought processes are either like His or better than His, and your reasoning skills and understanding are like His.

Isaiah 55:9 clearly states that His thoughts are higher than our thoughts and His ways are higher than ours. Sometimes you will not understand why He allowed something to happen. You don’t need to understand to submit. You only need to trust.

Trust is a big scary word, especially when it means releasing control. We are fallible, fearful human beings, and we don’t trust easily. The Lord knows that. Our lives are precious and deserving of our best in living them out. Let’s not cast our pearls before swine, instead be cautious in a world where there are so many ways to spend a life. In seeking the Lord and relating to Him and letting Him relate to us through His Word, we begin to trust Him enough to submit to Him. It’s a process. It’s a relationship.

As he designs our circumstances to give us an opportunity to trust him–to show us He is faithful–do we resist him because it is too hard? Too scary? Do we dispute Him? Or do we draw near and submit?

Let us yearn to be like Peter, saying, “Lord, to whom else shall we go?” (John 6:68)

People, to whom else shall we go?

We look for peace, we ask for joy, we desire understanding, and we yearn for purpose. We believe all these things are wrapped up in some mystery called God’s will for our lives. We believe that if we could unravel it, our lives would be good, not understanding that the mystery is in God alone. We find joy, peace, purpose and understanding not in jobs to be done or questions answered, but in the “attitude of spirit by which we accept God’s dealings with us as good and do not dispute or resist.” We will find it in complete surrender and gentle submission to our Lord.

Kindly,
Cinthia

I Got Nothing

Okay, so I’m supposed to make a new life and I am here to tell you, I got nothing.

For the last year, I’ve really just tried to duplicate (somewhat) the old life. I sat up housekeeping across town, so to speak. I didn’t stop to ask myself, what’s next? Partly because I didn’t have the time. It was imperative that I get a job, find a place for myself and my youngest son to live, and then work really hard to ensure I kept a job. Okay, so all that was accomplished (more by God than by me, but that is another post).

The dust has settled and the question looms. What do you want to do with your life now? I know, such a cliche of a question, but there it is. The answer?

Heck, I don’t know. A few things come to mind. Not be poor. Travel to see the kids. Afford my own home one day. I mean, I don’t know. How does one decide that?

I realize that I am already building a new life just by living a new life (I am nothing if not profound), but I wonder if I’m not doing it by default when I should be very deliberate. Let’s face it, default is so much easier because the first thing you need when designing a new life is a plan, and honestly, just thinking of that makes me want to take a nap.

Building a life was easier with the ex. He was so opinionated  The man had thoughts on wallpaper (he was against it) and pedestal sinks (again, against it, don’t you feel sorry for me?). He knew where he wanted to live (the middle of nowhere), what he wanted to be (a forester), what he wanted to do (hunt and retire early), how many children he wanted (none, but would settle for two since that seemed appropriate) and what kind of truck he wanted to drive (Ford F-150, although in a surprise move in the later years of our marriage he switched to a Toyota Tacoma, which was earth shattering to say the least). He knew what he wanted out of life, and there was no changing his mind, hence the lack of wallpaper and pedestal sinks at South Turkey Creek.

If only I were that sure.

My problem is that it all looks good. Like, maybe I’ll be on Dancing with the Stars. That seems fun and a sure-fire way to lose weight. Why not? Or, I’ve got a massive crush on L.L. Cool J (whom I refer to as LL Kool-Aid). Maybe he needs a driver or a maid or just a listening ear? I could go work for him and get to watch NCIS-LA before it hits the airwaves. Or I could continue to manage the flower market for as long as it stays open. Which is good too because I totally “dig plants” and they really are my passion. God made me a gardener, so that’s cool. Not that it pays much, but it is fun.

The choices are limitless. The places to live are well, everywhere. So, what is the process by which a person builds a life? How does one decide what is next? Especially when we live in a world that has so many choices, and might I add, cool outfits to accompany those choices?

I will start with prayer and assume God has a plan. Because me? I got nothing.

Indulge, Repent, Repeat

Indulge, repent, repeat. I saw these three words on a t-shirt today and found it rather humorous, if a bit close to home. It was a t-shirt advertising mustard, of all things. Of course, I want one. And, of course, I want to wear it to church. But, of course, I won’t.  We Christians aren’t very good at laughing at ourselves. I blame Paul. He wrote all those letters and never included even the hint of humor. Come on, Paul. Not even one joke?

Of course, repentance is not a laughing matter, and Biblically speaking, it is not something we can even do ourselves. It is a gift of the Holy Spirit. We cannot drum up repentance no matter how much we flog ourselves. But, the advertisers weren’t talking about that kind of repentance. They were talking about the sort of thing we promise ourselves we will start doing tomorrow but never do, hence the repeat part.

Here’s my list of what I promise myself I will stop indulging in, and repent of beginning tomorrow.

1. Eating.

2. Shopping.

3. Finances (refer to number 2, please)

4. Starbucks (refer to number 3 please).

5. Keeping vampire hours.

6. Rising early to have time for a healthy breakfast (refer to number 1 and 5 please).

7. Exercise. (Who am I kidding?)

8. Call my mother. (There is no reference for this one, I just need to do it.)

And, that is the superficial stuff (except for Mom). If I included a list of major things, well then, true repentance would be needed. For instance, who can take care of my bitter heart, or judgmental thoughts? Will a half-hearted promise to myself before drifting off to sleep change my sharp tongue? Or is determination enough to forgive what I believe is unforgivable?

The clever t-shirt not-withstanding, the dilemma, whether superficial or deep, is that we need Jesus either way. We can’t repent and not indulge without his help. He is the willpower or determination we need. Oh, I know. It is not cool to say that. It is okay to say God, but nobody likes it when you bring Jesus into the dialogue, because honestly, that is where repentance rears its head in the truest definition of the word. That is the place where the conviction of the Holy Spirit shows up, and each time we deny Jesus his rightful place, we feel the dishonesty in that. Repentance is turning away from our rejection of Christ, and acknowledging him as Lord of all, even ourselves.

Repentance over all the little things in life, yes, but repentance over thinking we’re our own god and rejecting Jesus as God, well, start there. The rest will come, including calling your mother. I know because I called mine tonight.

Rearranging Deck Chairs on the Titanic

As a Christian, I was never taught it, but somehow I came to believe that God would never ask certain things of me. I assumed the Lord and I had an agreement worked out. For instance, I felt I could handle losing all my money, so if there was going to be a trial in my life, then the Lord knew that was a good one for me. It was a little game I had going with him. Lord, this trial is okay, but never THIS ONE (fill in the blank with your greatest fear).

Because of my assumed agreement with the Lord, when trial did come, as much as I should have seen it coming, I refused to believe the Lord would allow it to happen. I believed He would swoop in at some point and save the day. And He is certainly capable of that. So, as my ship was sinking, well, I was rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

I am assuming that I’m not alone here, Christian or not. I am assuming that most of us, whether we trust Jesus as Savior, or believe that humanity’s collective consciousness is God, we all are pretty much going to do the same when suffering comes knocking–duck our heads into the sand until we are forced to accept the circumstances.

Every step of my trial was one where I prayed that God would step in and change the outcome. He did not. And, here’s what I tell people now. I don’t want another trial, but I wouldn’t have missed this one for the world.

Here’s why.

1. I found out that God is faithful to get you through it, even if he chooses not to get you out of it.

2. I found out that while the ship is sinking, God is so very present in your life its as though you could touch him physically.

3. I found out that God will help you rearrange the deck chairs if that is what you need.

All the things I was taught as a Christian, that God is faithful to us, that he never abandons us, and that we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us, well, I found out that all of that is true.

Once, in the middle of my big mess, my oldest son was home for Christmas. We had just picked him up at the airport, and he was expecting the holiday traditions he loved. We were going to decorate the tree first thing to get the festivities going, and I had everything ready to do it, but we couldn’t find my husband. When I did find him, he was in his office emailing his girlfriend, who he would later leave me for. I went into the bathroom, shut the door, and sat down. I said, “Lord, you promised you’d be here. Period. In your word, you promise you will be with us in every situation. I need you here now.”

No bright light shone into the bathroom. I didn’t see the Lord visibly (though many have). My husband didn’t end his conversation with his girlfriend or she with him. He eventually left for her and she left her husband for him. But, I came out of that bathroom able to cope, to make Christmas what it is, a celebration of Jesus’ birth. I came out filled with joy that Christ was born.

What grace.

I no longer assume that I am exempt from any trial. Instead, I know that when trial comes the Lord will be there helping me to rearrange my deck chairs until I am ready to let the ship go down.

 

Rainbows, Boring Days, and Women’s Roles in Church

I am feeling particularly healthy after last night’s sad tale of a meal. Today I ate a pint of blueberries and a bag of low-sodium almonds. And, I had a Starbucks tea with only a little sugar, and a little lemonade. I feel a Blizzard coming on after such a healthy day.

It was a rather uneventful day. I went to church. It was boring. But, I’ve already noted my thoughts on church, so I won’t get too far into that now. We’ll just leave it with boring. And no women served in any position AT ALL.  I was going to leave that comment out of this post, but well, here I go. So, what’s up with that? I mean what century are we in? Listen, I’m not all about women being pastors, mainly because I never felt called to be one. So, in typical Cinthia fashion, if it doesn’t affect me then I just can’t get interested.

But, come on. I mean a church full of suits running the show? There were no women greeters, no women taking up the offering, no women handing out the programs, nothing. I have to admit I got out my Windows phone out, and checked my hair dresser’s facebook status to see if she is headed back to work anytime soon. She just had a baby, and I am dying over here. Turns out she was in church having her little one baptized. I am thinking my hair was not on her mind.

Then I ran through my Twitter feed to see if anything interesting was going there. There wasn’t. Then, I decided that I was sitting in church, I should listen. But, I got distracted by the lady in front of me whose hair really looked good, and I considered texting Anna about my hair. Scoff if you like, but Anna would have understood and likely responded back if she had not been dealing with a toddler and an infant in church. And, probably tons of family who came for the baptism. See why she’s my hairstylist? She gets it.

And, if you’ve made it this far into this post, then congratulations, because really, how random can you get? This is why I love blogging. Nobody would publish this mind-numbing diatribe, but here it is posted on the internet for all the world to read.

So, onto the whole women in the pulpit thing. I realize that Scripture does not sway too much in the direction of women preachers, and I am a Scripture girl, but I also know that several people I respect (Anne Graham Lotz) and my friend, Karen, who is now a pastor, have studied the Scriptures and determined that Scripture supports women in that role. So, I’m going with them on this one. And, I like seeing women in leadership roles at church. It makes me happy. All those men in gray, drab suits put me to sleep. They look like they belong in the mafia.

I felt like I was ten years old again watching the men in my home church pass along the offering plates, open the doors at the end of the service, shake hands all around and generally run things. I didn’t like it at age 10, and I don’t like it now. It isn’t because I have an issue with men. I don’t. I just prefer to see church all mixed up. Women, children, men, people of all persuasions and race. Church should be a big rainbow of people, not men in gray suits. At least, that is my version of happy church.  I like it when we’re all worshiping together equally. This place felt like a man’s club that allowed the women in for this one day out of the week and we best behave while there. I found myself whispering to the other women.

I really do believe that every denomination has it a bit right, and every denomination has it a bit wrong. The church I attended today, I believe, has it a bit wrong on the issue of women in church roles. They did, however, nail the music.

And, in the spirit of oneness–no names regarding which church it is.

God Made a Garden

I work in a pretty and charming flower market. Its about 2 minutes from my house, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that  every person that walks into the store says the same thing to me. This place is so wonderful. It must be fantastic to work here.

That statement makes me feel better because some mornings I wake up and think, ugh, I don’t want to go to work today. Then I remember people envy my job. Because I work in a garden.

Image

Pretty hanging plant (air plant)

Image

Gorgeous succulent design (by Linda Clemens)

Image

Pretty benches and pagodas

Image

Whimsical Chairs

Image

A Good Spot to Sit

Image

Tropicals in the kiosk

Image

Bamboo containers downtown for our “adopt a tree planting space” (design by Erik Ladd)

Image

Front view of store, Come on in.

I suppose, when you consider the fact that God placed Adam and Eve in a garden, and told them to work it, then it is only natural that we’d want to be in one too.

I Was Lazarus Tonight (and for once I had nothing to say)

Tonight I went to a Bible Study where I played Lazarus. It is a Bible Study that bases it premise on the fact that 95% of communication is non-verbal, and is played out through the roles, positions and places we all assume within the circles that form our daily lives. Of course, playing a dead guy was an easy role. I got to lie on a pillow on the floor with my eyes closed, while those who played Mary and Martha or Thomas had to act out their parts.

Only acting is not the right word. This isn’t acting but literally stepping into someone else’s life and attempting to feel what they may have felt. It is a flannel board with real people. Everyone is participating in telling the story that is read out of Scripture. It is quite interesting, and I found that for the first time, I had no questions.

What I mean is, I always have questions. I’ll explain.

Lazarus has always appealed to me because well, what was it like to be dead? He is the only person who ever lived who could answer that question because this guy was dead-as-a-doornail type of dead. This was dead for four days dead. This was buried and in the tomb dead. None of this near-death experience. The man was D.E.A.D. dead. Then he was completely alive. So, yeah. I have got some questions for this guy. So, I figured, when it came my time to “talk” for Lazarus, I’d have a lot to say.

I did not.

What I came away with was pretty simple. Jesus is life. Remember Ponce de Leon looking for the fountain of youth (and we think we’re stuck on youth)? Well, it is sort of like that. Everyone is always looking for life, real life, real I FEEL ALIVE life. I think Lazarus felt more alive than he’d ever felt after they unraveled the grave clothes off him. I think food tasted awesome. Sleep must have been so sweet. Grass was way greener. The sky bluer. Life got very big and very real and he stopped being a robot while living it because he was DEAD, and now he was ALIVE. I mean, geez louise, that is big stuff.

I’ve heard it said that it is easier for God to raise the physically dead than the spiritually dead because of our pride, our sin and our desire to be God ourselves. We’d rather raise ourselves, thank you. But Lazarus could not will himself out of that tomb. He could not unwrap the grave clothes. He couldn’t wash the stink of four days of dead off himself. He could only lay there in death and wait. Wait for the words, “Lazarus, come out of the tomb,” spoken by Jesus. Jesus speaks life because he is the source of all life. He created it, gives it, takes it away, gives it back.

I am often asked why Jesus the only “Way”. Why can’t there be lots of ways? Because there is only one source of life, and it is him. Who else calls dead people out of tombs? Who else, after three days in a tomb himself, unwraps his own grave clothes, and walks out of his own tomb?  Once dead now totally alive. And, he needed no one to stand outside his tomb and command him to walk out. Why? Because he is life and he laid his life down for us. Then when the time came, he picked it back up again. Because he is God. Because he is life.

Going Minimal, Ready for Wherever God Sends Me (I think, I hope)

I decided on the minimalist approach to my blog design, because that is my life now. Minimal. I’m in transition, and so I travel light.

After spending 20+ years building a life for a family, which meant buying furniture, Christmas decorations (and Thanksgiving, Easter, July 4th decorations…) and outdoor furniture and grills for family cookouts, and suitcases for family vacations, and on and on, I now hear God saying to my spirit, “Keep it light.”

Moving from South Turkey Creek, where I lived over 20 years, was an eye-opener. Not a new one, really. I’ve often wondered if we Americans have too much stuff, but to be the living example of it while emptying out my things from South Turkey Creek was sobering. Why on earth did I have all of that? Was it really necessary? Who knows? I probably thought it would make our home more home and our family more family.

Now, the things in my home would fit into one moving truck, and not the 18 wheeler kind. It is rather refreshing, and I contemplate if I will keep it this way or eventually replace what was left behind with more of the same. Again, who knows?

I don’t hear God suggesting it. In fact, he seems to be saying just the opposite. While others are asking me when I plan to start dating again (as if all I have to do is to accomplish that is stick my head out the door and holler for a man), if I’ve decided where I am going to live (as in permanently), and will I always manage a flower market (after all, it is a blue collar job), I feel God saying I want you ready. Ready for what? I don’t know. But now, I am in a position to go wherever He needs me too, without hindrance of man, house or job. It is pretty exciting.

I’ve always wanted to be used by God for something BIG. I’m probably not even supposed to write that as the Christian motto is often about finding contentment in the least of circumstances. But, there it is. I don’t mean Beth Moore kind of big. I mean small actions that lead to big reactions. I mean everyday things that impact eternity. Like telling someone Jesus loves them and for the first time they believe it. Or quite literally giving someone a cup of water who is thirsty.

I am still looking for a home, but I am beginning to understand that my new home may not look a thing like the last with its cherry paneling, big stone walls and cathedral ceilings. Perhaps it will be a hut in a remote place, or a palace on a cliff, or a brick rancher on a street corner. Wherever it is, I am ready.