"Bunny," A New Robe, & A New Year's Prayer

Eve's Finished Rag Doll, "Bunny"

On this Day 2 of her project, Eve sewed together her rag doll's body and limbs, cut and sewed the doll's dress, and added a ribbon sash and bows in her hair. She named her doll "Bunny," after her beloved plush bunny she lost a couple weeks ago when a rambunctious little boy threw it on the roof at Love's gym class.


We all thought Eve did such a wonderful job; Love and Alice were inspired to make their own, so Eve helped Love sew and stuff an unadorned head that will soon become a new rag doll for Love. Eve's promised to help Alice with her doll after that.

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A New Robe

After repenting and stepping from the brush last week, Jesus met me on the road there. I felt such a sweet sense of relief. He very simply took from me the burden of many months trying to make it on my own strength along my own path.

An image has followed me all week. I looked down at my robe, at the rips in the fabric, the dirt, the sweat stains, the places where the thorns broke my skin and drew blood. I was repulsed and ashamed at how filthy my clothes were.

Jesus said, "Let me have that." So I gave the old robe to Him. He took it in His left hand, and it turned to ash.

With His right hand, He handed me a brand new robe He fashioned just for me. It was made of spotless white linen, soft and perfect, and it had never been worn before by anyone else.

I put the new robe on, and ever since, I've been unashamed to walk next to Him, to ask for things in prayer, or even to confess my sins and ask for His forgiveness and guidance.

I suppose I feel like I'm part of His family. (Intellectually, I've always known that I am, but genuinely feeling that I am part of His family, that I can approach Him without rebuke...that has taken a long time to come to.) I would never feel hesitant or apprehensive to go to my earthly father or my uncle or any of my brothers to talk with them about things, good or bad. Jesus loves me more than my father or uncle or any of my brothers, and He welcomes me in every hour. It struck me quite deeply that I find a comfort and ease of intimacy with Him now, in my new robe He made for me, on this road He paved just for me.

And I can't help but wax sentimental about it all, because I've yearned to experience healing for such a long time. I've never known why there was such a wait before it came to pass, and I may not fully understand for a much longer time. But honestly? I'm content right here where I am with Him on this path. I know He'll walk me to the next destination, wherever that may be, whatever challenges may lie ahead. But I'm not rushing; I'm not impatient. And I'm not dreading the next bend either.

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New Year's Prayer

Otherwise, I'm anticipating some big changes around the house between now and the New Year.

• Cutting off digital cable television (for a significant savings on the Internet/telephone bundle).
• Opening a second checking account. Deposits into the first account are for bill payments only. Deposits into the second account are for other household expenses and general spending.
• Major shift in the kitchen. Scaling way back on prepared foods, and cooking from scratch the majority of the time. It's going to require better time management, but I think I'm ready to take on the challenge.
• Stricter limitations on driving habits.
  
• Sticking close to home as much as possible.

I welcome the changes. I miss being home, making home, enjoying home. Community involvement is great, but not at the expense of peace at home.

Guess I've just discovered my New Year's Prayer (formerly "Resolution"): Return to Peace at Home.

Stepping from the Brush: On Repentance

Someone's been fervently praying for me. I can feel it. I can always tell when the Holy Spirit floods into my shadowed encapsulation, begins fighting off the darkness, and then fills the gaping wounds inside even though I've been too weak to pray for myself.

He has, He has.

For many months now, I've felt as if I've been walking along the overgrown edge of God's path, beyond a fenced barrier. I've cut my feet on the thorns, had to claw my way through thick vines and branches to stay close enough to His road so I can still see it.

And I've been mindful how smooth the soil is on the way He paved for me, how it will always lead to His lighted city, no matter how dark the valleys or how steep the hills become on the way there.

Someone has prayed a break in the barbed wire, and I stand here with a clearing wide enough to squeeze through, and He waits there, just an arm's length away. All I have to do is walk toward Him, and the rest of the journey will be safe and secure.

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It's better for me to wait a while before I seek the company of other faithful Christians. We're all flawed, but at this fragile juncture, any pressure or accusations or negativity from other believers could be detrimental. Not that I am easily jaded, but I'm easily turned against myself, and self-loathing and self-punishment is NOT God's way.

Repentance is indeed sorrowful. The process of being broken is painful in its own way, but the sense above all others is a predominant love and adoration, a deep gratitude to Christ for making me whole.

When I'm genuinely repenting, the feeling that overwhelms should not be self-hatred, should not be an unholy shame that would drag me farther away from God instead of toward Him.

It's so easy to fall victim to those falsehoods and lies. I think most Christians are well-meaning, and they want more than anything to share the brokenness and the victory that follows it. But many folks get caught up in what they believe is an established process, that a person should go into salvation on one side looking like filth and come out on the other side looking like them.

Spiritually speaking, yes--we do come out of the other side of salvation with a clean soul, washed by Christ's blood, ready to be presented before the throne. But the flesh...life...the every-day...that takes time, discipline, determination, self-control, willpower, practice.

It's almost as if I'm recovering from an addiction to fleshly living. It's a fragile time. I'm vulnerable and exposed. I need to steep in the Spirit, strengthen my bond with Him, allow Him to build me up so when the time comes for me to reenter fellowship, I'll be strong and secure in Him, impervious to the lies that may rob me of my confidence in Christ's profound sacrifice.

It begins with prayer. It began with someone else's prayer for me.

I can pray for them, too, and even if I don't know who they are, God does.

And then I can pray for myself.