Mission Faithwalk

                When I came up with the blog name, Mission: Faithwalk, it was with strong connection to Mission: Impossible. At least, the connection seemed obvious to me. Hand and (latex) glove with espionage are things like codenames. It seemed a perfect way to bring in another idea that seemed obvious to me.               The LORD had said to Abram, “Leave your country, your people and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you. “I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you;        I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” (Gen 12:1-3)             When Abram decided to follow God's call, it was the duty of his wife to go with him. Every step of faith that he took, she also had to take and then she had to take her own as well. She had to leave her home and go somewhere she might not want to go, and live

                As much fun as the contemplations of the past several blog posts have been (and I do mean fun - I enjoy the contemplation even if the best contemplations take place while enduring life's challenges) I must report that it took roughly four days to begin to enjoy some pieces of my new life. I had started doing plastic canvas again in order to solve some storage problems. I've completed 2 drawer organizers, a calligraphy pen box, and a box to keep CDs in. Those were all tasks on which I worked. Tonight, I finished a tissue box cover that I plan to donate to my church for our annual Holiday Blessings program. It didn't feel like a task. It was fun.                  I have been working my way back toward doing some respectable distance in walking.   I've been trying to get 3 miles in each day, but work got in the way. For the past 3 days, Grace and I officially got in 4.5 miles per day. Unofficially it was a little further as we walked back and forth

     "Someday, you'll be up here telling your story," the motivational speaker assured his   audience.   As I drove home, I wept. I was sure that I had no story to tell. I've learned since that what I didn't have is a story I wanted to tell or that I thought others would want to read. I could not come to terms with who I am because who I seemed to be wasn't who I wanted to be or who I thought I had to be to matter. To make matters worse, like most Americans, I tend to define myself by what I do. That leads me into a very dark place because not only has the job I've had not provided that fulfilling sense of identity, but I am no longer doing it, and it has yet to be seen what I shall do. It's not a big step down from a job in retail, but at the moment I am a nobody. I am walking into the future with empty hands.         No story. No identity. For the romantic this is a   dream come true, to begin again without the baggage of the past. I'm not i

                Beginnings are messy affairs, with sporadic excitement punctuating longer intervals of apparent nothingness. You rush to the starting line and take your stance, then wait for the gun. That is when the preparation for the race ends and the race itself begins. They say that a journey begins with a single step, but before that step is taken, bags are packed, routes are planned,   arrangements made. Relationships and even life begin sometimes with great enthusiasm, sometimes unnoticed, and then suddenly are recognized and later till given official status. We like to think that beginnings are a very specific moment in time, but that is just our arrogant grasping for control.                 And so with a moderate level of arrogance, a larger dose of trepidation and maybe some humility, I say, "and so it begins." it may have begun when my brother died, or even years before. It may have begun before time began. It could be said not to begin until we are on the

         What is a life made of? Look around your house. What of all your possessions do you take with you to a place that's less than half the size of where you're established and every inch of space you get is being given up by someone who is established in it and when it always seems that what is vital to one is excess junk to the other? How do you decide which of the many pieces of your life, which of the many baubles you've enjoyed must be left behind? How do you take the things your life will need when you don't know what direction your life is going to take?         Granted, I am not moving into some third world country with no stores. I could go with the clothes on my back and buy things that I need, but that takes money. It takes money that has already been spent here and money is one of the unknown variables in this equation. It is one of the things that makes this faithwalk a faithwalk. This brings me back to my question. The things that are obvious are

The Road Not Taken I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference                                                                                                                 Robert Frost (The Road Not Taken)                   This last stanza   of Robert Frost's poem doesn't quite describe my life. Oh, I suspect I've often taken the road less traveled by. I also suspect I've taken it less often than I like to imagine I have.   What really describes my life, but would not sound nearly as desirable, is that I have taken the road I didn't want to take.                 In the summer of 2001, I left the church I'd been attending for years.   I had not intended to leave but circumstances led me to feel it necessary. When I explained that I had left to some friends, they suggested the church I am currently attending and