Monday, January 26, 2009
My Drive Home
I ran into a Nairobi roadblock one afternoon this week, so I figured I might as well record it on my phone as I waited. This is rounding the corner around where we live, to where we return the car we rent by the km.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Eulogy notes
Here are some notes from the Eulogy I gave at my grandmother's funeral this morning:
Stories of my Grandma's life seem full of the theme of encountering hardship, yet moving on. We all know her life was greatly influenced by the depression. I remember stories she would tell about gathering coal that had fallen off coal cars. But she also said once that she had trouble in school because she was promoted too quickly, because she had learned to read before she went to school. She told me once about getting stuck teaching math, and having to read each lesson the night before -- read it, learn it, and figure out how to explain it to the kids before they figured out how much she didn't know.
I remember her in the kitchen once, showing me how to straighten a nail with a hammer and pliers. Who cares, right? I'd heard stories how pioneers would burn down a house when leaving it to recoup the nails, but they weren't that valuable to me. But they mattered to her, and it just didn't make sense to throw away something that could be fixed and used again.
And none of us can forget her famous pen knife that would come out when presents were opened. Children seem to take joy in ripping wrapping paper as quickly and as violently as possible, but grandma would take the most tender care to cut the tape and remove the paper without tearing it, carefully setting it aside so it could be used again.
I, too, remember camping with Grandma. I remember once because I was yelled at for wasting syrup on my pancakes. You know how easy it is to let it pour, then drip down the side of the bottle? Between the waste and the mess, that was unacceptable. So she taught me a trick. Take the bottle on the side, and pour enough that it flows out, then cut off the flow with a knife as you tilt the bottle back up. No mess, no waste.
We took Grandma out to lunch for her birthday, I think last year, to Berryland in Sumner, that she seemed to like a lot. It was cramped beyond what I expected, but we fit her and my family into a booth, and tried to keep the boys from destroying the decorations. I don't remember what we ate, but I do remember that Grandma got a dessert with her meal, probably complementary for her birthday, but she didn't want to eat it, so she packed it into a napkin, and stuck it in her purse, and took it home. No waste.
As I went through the stuff that was retrieved from Grandma's car, a couple things struck me. I found several pieces of plastic silverware neatly bound in a rubber band. It wasn't "Wendy's" brand, but the many years of keeping their silverware, before I'd ever heard of "reduce, reuse, recycle," came back to me. It wasn't environmentalism per se, just plain old organized economy. She wasn't disorganized or cheap, but she didn't waste. I was impressed recently at the quality of some of the kitchenware she had in the house. not cheap and nasty garage sale I-don't-ever-want-to-pay-money-for-anything stuff, but good quality. thought I'm sure she didn't pay full price for it. :-)
Speaking of organized, I looked through her vehicle log book as well, and saw the date and mileage of all fueling and services done since 2001, which was probably when she got the car. She noted how much she paid, how much gas went in, and where she got it. She didn't have a running calculation of her mileage.... I noticed she filled up the car the day before the accident, and had the oil changed less than two months earlier.
And over the years, as we saw the boxes pile up, I began to despair over the condition of her house. I wouldn't want to touch anything, for fear that something would fall over, and the mess would never be sorted out. But I remember once not long after Kim and I were married, when we visited Grandma, and Kim mentioned that it would be nice to see a picture of my mom when she was younger. No sooner was it off her lips, than Grandma was up poking around in the back room, where I dared not go, and she quickly found a box of old photos, that had just the thing. She always seemed to know much more about what was going on in her house than the untrained eye would guess.
She was economical. She was organized. She was uncomplaining. She was hospitable. Whenever we visited, she got out toys for our kids, and offered a meal. Had endured more pain and suffering than many of us will probably ever know, but it didn't stop her.
My mom said that Grandma wouldn't have wanted to bee seen the way she looked in the hospital. I saw her anyway, and I agree. Not because she was ugly, but because of what someone once called the indignity of death. We know without anyone telling us that there is something wrong with serious illness and death. So if you experience some pain or grief at it, that's OK.
You may be familiar with the shortest verse of the Bible: "Jesus wept." Notice why he wept:
Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus wept. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" (John 11:32-36 ESV)
Jesus knew that we were not made for pain, mourning, and death. He saw how horrible it was, and he saw the love of the dead man's sisters, and the many other mourners, and he wept. So let's not be afraid to take some time and mourn. This is not what we were made for.
But Jesus didn't stop there. John later wrote
When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." (John 11:43 ESV)
He raised Lazarus from the dead. and He didn't stop there. He went boldly and courageously to his own death, facing it, too, with sorrow as he knew it was coming. But he didn't stop there, either. He rose from the dead, to give us hope and a reminder that, while we are not made for this, this is not the end of the story.
I'm proud to say that this persistent diligence that I saw in my grandma, and that I see in Jesus, will provide us a good example as we encounter sadness and difficulty in our own lives. Yes this is hard. Yes, it is sad. Yes, we were not made for this. But this is not the end of the story.
In the revelation to John, he writes about when Jesus comes for those who trust in Him, about the new heaven and the new earth. He says
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. (Revelation 21:4 ESV)
Stories of my Grandma's life seem full of the theme of encountering hardship, yet moving on. We all know her life was greatly influenced by the depression. I remember stories she would tell about gathering coal that had fallen off coal cars. But she also said once that she had trouble in school because she was promoted too quickly, because she had learned to read before she went to school. She told me once about getting stuck teaching math, and having to read each lesson the night before -- read it, learn it, and figure out how to explain it to the kids before they figured out how much she didn't know.
I remember her in the kitchen once, showing me how to straighten a nail with a hammer and pliers. Who cares, right? I'd heard stories how pioneers would burn down a house when leaving it to recoup the nails, but they weren't that valuable to me. But they mattered to her, and it just didn't make sense to throw away something that could be fixed and used again.
And none of us can forget her famous pen knife that would come out when presents were opened. Children seem to take joy in ripping wrapping paper as quickly and as violently as possible, but grandma would take the most tender care to cut the tape and remove the paper without tearing it, carefully setting it aside so it could be used again.
I, too, remember camping with Grandma. I remember once because I was yelled at for wasting syrup on my pancakes. You know how easy it is to let it pour, then drip down the side of the bottle? Between the waste and the mess, that was unacceptable. So she taught me a trick. Take the bottle on the side, and pour enough that it flows out, then cut off the flow with a knife as you tilt the bottle back up. No mess, no waste.
We took Grandma out to lunch for her birthday, I think last year, to Berryland in Sumner, that she seemed to like a lot. It was cramped beyond what I expected, but we fit her and my family into a booth, and tried to keep the boys from destroying the decorations. I don't remember what we ate, but I do remember that Grandma got a dessert with her meal, probably complementary for her birthday, but she didn't want to eat it, so she packed it into a napkin, and stuck it in her purse, and took it home. No waste.
As I went through the stuff that was retrieved from Grandma's car, a couple things struck me. I found several pieces of plastic silverware neatly bound in a rubber band. It wasn't "Wendy's" brand, but the many years of keeping their silverware, before I'd ever heard of "reduce, reuse, recycle," came back to me. It wasn't environmentalism per se, just plain old organized economy. She wasn't disorganized or cheap, but she didn't waste. I was impressed recently at the quality of some of the kitchenware she had in the house. not cheap and nasty garage sale I-don't-ever-want-to-pay-money-for-anything stuff, but good quality. thought I'm sure she didn't pay full price for it. :-)
Speaking of organized, I looked through her vehicle log book as well, and saw the date and mileage of all fueling and services done since 2001, which was probably when she got the car. She noted how much she paid, how much gas went in, and where she got it. She didn't have a running calculation of her mileage.... I noticed she filled up the car the day before the accident, and had the oil changed less than two months earlier.
And over the years, as we saw the boxes pile up, I began to despair over the condition of her house. I wouldn't want to touch anything, for fear that something would fall over, and the mess would never be sorted out. But I remember once not long after Kim and I were married, when we visited Grandma, and Kim mentioned that it would be nice to see a picture of my mom when she was younger. No sooner was it off her lips, than Grandma was up poking around in the back room, where I dared not go, and she quickly found a box of old photos, that had just the thing. She always seemed to know much more about what was going on in her house than the untrained eye would guess.
She was economical. She was organized. She was uncomplaining. She was hospitable. Whenever we visited, she got out toys for our kids, and offered a meal. Had endured more pain and suffering than many of us will probably ever know, but it didn't stop her.
My mom said that Grandma wouldn't have wanted to bee seen the way she looked in the hospital. I saw her anyway, and I agree. Not because she was ugly, but because of what someone once called the indignity of death. We know without anyone telling us that there is something wrong with serious illness and death. So if you experience some pain or grief at it, that's OK.
You may be familiar with the shortest verse of the Bible: "Jesus wept." Notice why he wept:
Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus wept. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" (John 11:32-36 ESV)
Jesus knew that we were not made for pain, mourning, and death. He saw how horrible it was, and he saw the love of the dead man's sisters, and the many other mourners, and he wept. So let's not be afraid to take some time and mourn. This is not what we were made for.
But Jesus didn't stop there. John later wrote
When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." (John 11:43 ESV)
He raised Lazarus from the dead. and He didn't stop there. He went boldly and courageously to his own death, facing it, too, with sorrow as he knew it was coming. But he didn't stop there, either. He rose from the dead, to give us hope and a reminder that, while we are not made for this, this is not the end of the story.
I'm proud to say that this persistent diligence that I saw in my grandma, and that I see in Jesus, will provide us a good example as we encounter sadness and difficulty in our own lives. Yes this is hard. Yes, it is sad. Yes, we were not made for this. But this is not the end of the story.
In the revelation to John, he writes about when Jesus comes for those who trust in Him, about the new heaven and the new earth. He says
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. (Revelation 21:4 ESV)
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Grandma stories II
It is amazing how memories will hit you. As I went through the stuff that was retrieved from Grandma's car, a couple things struck me. I found several pieces of plastic silverware neatly bound in a rubber band. It wasn't "Wendy's" brand, but the many years of keeping their silverware, before I'd ever heard of "reduce, reuse, recycle," came back to me. It wasn't environmentalism per se, just plain old organized economy. Speaking of organized, I looked through her vehicle log book as well, and saw the date and mileage of all fueling and services done since 2001, which was probably when she got the car. She noted how much she paid, how much gas went in, and where she got it. She didn't have a running calculation of her mileage.... I noticed she filled up the car the day before the accident, and had the oil changed less than two months earlier.
Grandma stories I
My Grandma died today, from complications and injuries sustained in a stroke and auto accident last Friday. She was 89. As I think through the good, bad, and ugly of my memories, I'll probably post some of them here (though mostly the good, I hope. :-))
Over the years, as we saw the boxes pile up, I began to despair over the condition of her house. I wouldn't want to touch anything, for fear that something would fall over, and the mess would never be sorted out. But I remember once not long after Kim and I were married, when we visited Grandma, and Kim mentioned that it would be nice to see a picture of my mom when she was younger. No sooner was it off her lips, than Grandma was up poking around in the back room, where I dared not go, and she quickly found a box of old photos, that had just the thing. She always seemed to know much more about what was going on in her house than the untrained eye would guess.
Over the years, as we saw the boxes pile up, I began to despair over the condition of her house. I wouldn't want to touch anything, for fear that something would fall over, and the mess would never be sorted out. But I remember once not long after Kim and I were married, when we visited Grandma, and Kim mentioned that it would be nice to see a picture of my mom when she was younger. No sooner was it off her lips, than Grandma was up poking around in the back room, where I dared not go, and she quickly found a box of old photos, that had just the thing. She always seemed to know much more about what was going on in her house than the untrained eye would guess.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Good morning, closet door!
I was recently trying to explain to a friend what transition stress/shock was like, as we've been feeling it in this, our fifth house in the last 17 months. I told him that transition shock was not knowing where to buy milk, or looking at your fridge and having to figure out where to go to get what you need to make a meal. And I think knowing your "commercial space" in a given locale is part of it. But there's another space that I've been figuring out, too. Normally, I deal with transitions from one house to another fairly well. This house is the first in awhile that I have felt this kind of shock, probably because we were in two (very) short term situations before finding this one. For the first week, I would wake up in the night, and have no idea where the walls were. I've heard discussions of "mind maps" that our mind/body has, that tell us where our limbs, etc are -- the part of our psychology that needs to adapt when we loose a limb. I think it goes further than that. Our house is not as permanent as our limbs are, which we carry everywhere. But there is a comfort and a certainty to knowing where the lamp is beside your bed, and not having to feel all over for it, because it has been in that same place forever. Or where your bed is situated in the room, and what the path is to the bathroom. Being colorblind, I'm told I have better night vision than most people. But I think the fact that I can normally get up and about without the lights on has at least as much to do with the fact that I know what is there. I'm not talking about a sensory perception, that looks around, or considers and remembers what the facts are. I'm talking about your body having navigated a particular space so many times, that it becomes habit -- it becomes natural. You don't have to think about it (much) anymore. And I think this is the stress. Having to think through every little detail of life (where are the car keys? Where is my underwear? Where is the children's medicine? Where is my flashlight? etc., etc., etc.) drains the intellectual and emotional energy to think through the things we would normally think about, when these more basic things are given. I'm not saying that no one else ever has to look for car keys, or re-evaluate where to buy milk. The burden is when this all happens at once.
Anyway, I got up this morning, and felt my way to our bedroom door, and whacked my head on the closet door. If you'd asked me where the closet door was, I could have told you. I never have had this kind of closet door before (they're folded on each side, so they stick out into the room on each side when open), but I know we have them now, and we have for almost four weeks. But my body still had no idea that its quest for the hallway put it on a collision course with the closet door.
Anyway, I got up this morning, and felt my way to our bedroom door, and whacked my head on the closet door. If you'd asked me where the closet door was, I could have told you. I never have had this kind of closet door before (they're folded on each side, so they stick out into the room on each side when open), but I know we have them now, and we have for almost four weeks. But my body still had no idea that its quest for the hallway put it on a collision course with the closet door.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
And out comes the sun(glasses)!
This weekend was rather trying for us. We know there is a reason for the trials we face, and at times we beg God to know what it/they is/are. But it seems like part of His reason it to get us to trust Him more, without seeing the reason now. We look back at what Piper calls bygone grace, and we see that, in 2003, when we left for our first term, we left much later than we wanted, and were spared many other hardships we would surely have found, had we followed our original plan. But we can't see what's up ahead just now.
I went fishing On Saturday, and James and I each caught two fish. We came home, cleaned them up, and did a few other things around the house while everyone else was out. Part of what I was doing was finishing prep for the two presentations I would make the following day. Then the call came. Kim was stranded 22 miles south on I-5 with a dead car (turns out it was only the transmission!), and the leisurely evening I had planned became a road trip, grabbing emergency drive-through on the way to pacify the natives (this was already the dinner hour when it happened). When we got home, we were told yet again how stressful our children are to our (very very gracious) hosts, and we stayed up late talking, realizing it was probably time to find other housing, rather than stress these people too much, and risk hurting our relationship with them. So Sunday morning I babbled my way through a few stories, and we got home and all got a healthy 45 min nap before hitting the road again, this time an hour north. More drive-through, and a hasty meal in a church courtyard. This presentation went a lot more smoothly (though I messed up the instructions to the A/V people!), but it was hard to tell if anyone was touched. We'll see.
All day Sunday, we're driving a 1982 Volvo we have been graciously loaned, with a car seat and two booster seats in the back, four-window AC, and sun visors that don't really block the sun. But that's OK, since Kim got me these really cool sunglasses a couple months ago, that fit me well, and that I enjoy wearing. Only I can't find them. So I squint and groan, and ask God what His purpose in this is.
I had breakfast with a pastor last week, and we talked about this very question, that God doesn't always (ever?) show his purpose on our timeline, and sometimes God is just asking us to press on with what we know is right. We don't see the dawn, but it does eventually come. Plodding through this day, and the night that follows, another day does come.
So this morning, as we're rushing to get everyone out of the house for swimming lessons, Kim digs through the swim bag, and finds my sunglasses. Apparently I left them there in the chaos of taking the boys on a swim picnic last Friday. I don't know how to explain the joy I felt, though in putting them on (I didn't care that I was inside the house!) It was like the dawn had finally come, and the sun was finally starting to shine. I know it is such a silly thing to let such mundane things affect your outlook on life. But it seems like our lives are so full of the mundane these days, that we've got to get it organized and put away, or it will kill us.
So God puts my sunglasses away, and lets me struggle through a whole weekend of squinting, to show me that He is good even then, and that He does bring the sun out again. Or, as the scriptures say, that His mercies are new every morning. Even this morning.
I went fishing On Saturday, and James and I each caught two fish. We came home, cleaned them up, and did a few other things around the house while everyone else was out. Part of what I was doing was finishing prep for the two presentations I would make the following day. Then the call came. Kim was stranded 22 miles south on I-5 with a dead car (turns out it was only the transmission!), and the leisurely evening I had planned became a road trip, grabbing emergency drive-through on the way to pacify the natives (this was already the dinner hour when it happened). When we got home, we were told yet again how stressful our children are to our (very very gracious) hosts, and we stayed up late talking, realizing it was probably time to find other housing, rather than stress these people too much, and risk hurting our relationship with them. So Sunday morning I babbled my way through a few stories, and we got home and all got a healthy 45 min nap before hitting the road again, this time an hour north. More drive-through, and a hasty meal in a church courtyard. This presentation went a lot more smoothly (though I messed up the instructions to the A/V people!), but it was hard to tell if anyone was touched. We'll see.
All day Sunday, we're driving a 1982 Volvo we have been graciously loaned, with a car seat and two booster seats in the back, four-window AC, and sun visors that don't really block the sun. But that's OK, since Kim got me these really cool sunglasses a couple months ago, that fit me well, and that I enjoy wearing. Only I can't find them. So I squint and groan, and ask God what His purpose in this is.
I had breakfast with a pastor last week, and we talked about this very question, that God doesn't always (ever?) show his purpose on our timeline, and sometimes God is just asking us to press on with what we know is right. We don't see the dawn, but it does eventually come. Plodding through this day, and the night that follows, another day does come.
So this morning, as we're rushing to get everyone out of the house for swimming lessons, Kim digs through the swim bag, and finds my sunglasses. Apparently I left them there in the chaos of taking the boys on a swim picnic last Friday. I don't know how to explain the joy I felt, though in putting them on (I didn't care that I was inside the house!) It was like the dawn had finally come, and the sun was finally starting to shine. I know it is such a silly thing to let such mundane things affect your outlook on life. But it seems like our lives are so full of the mundane these days, that we've got to get it organized and put away, or it will kill us.
So God puts my sunglasses away, and lets me struggle through a whole weekend of squinting, to show me that He is good even then, and that He does bring the sun out again. Or, as the scriptures say, that His mercies are new every morning. Even this morning.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Hezekiah and the Law
2For the king and his princes and all the assembly in Jerusalem had taken counsel to keep the Passover in the second month— 3for they could not keep it at that time because the priests had not consecrated themselves in sufficient number, nor had the people assembled in Jerusalem— 4and the plan seemed right to the king and all the assembly.
Interesting that the king would know that he is breaking the law here, but that it would seem right to him, anyway. Presumably that it is better to celebrate a month late than to miss the year entirely.
15And they slaughtered the Passover lamb on the fourteenth day of the second month. And the priests and the Levites were ashamed, so that they consecrated themselves and brought burnt offerings into the house of the LORD.
So apparently in addition to being late, the sacrifices weren't made by the priests and levites!
16They took their accustomed posts according to the Law of Moses the man of God. The priests threw the blood that they received from the hand of the Levites. 17For there were many in the assembly who had not consecrated themselves. Therefore the Levites had to slaughter the Passover lamb for everyone who was not clean, to consecrate it to the LORD.
Presumably some of those that made the priests and levites ashamed were those sacrificing without being clean, in addition to not being levites or priests.
18For a majority of the people, many of them from Ephraim, Manasseh, Issachar, and Zebulun, had not cleansed themselves, yet they ate the Passover otherwise than as prescribed.
Even though some of them did not offer the sacrifices unclean, they still ate of the passover unclean.
So, to summarize the points of breaking the law,
1. The passover was held in the wrong month.
2. The lambs were sacrificed (initially) by ordinary people.
3. (Some of) the people sacrificing were not clean.
4. The majority of the people ate without being clean.
I'm not sure how big of a deal #2 is in the law, but the others seem to be emphasized fairly strongly. And yet, what is the outcome?
For Hezekiah had prayed for them, saying, "May the good LORD pardon everyone 19who sets his heart to seek God, the LORD, the God of his fathers, even though not according to the sanctuary's rules of cleanness." 20And the LORD heard Hezekiah and healed the people.
So seeking God, and asking forgiveness for the wrong ways we do it, brings healing.
And in the end, they broke/amended/added to the law one more time:
23Then the whole assembly agreed together to keep the feast for another seven days. So they kept it for another seven days with gladness.
I trust this was covered by Hezekiah's earlier prayer.
Edit Aug 1 2010:
I just noticed, a chapter earlier, in 2 Chronicles 29:
34But the priests were too few and could not flay all the burnt offerings, so until other priests had consecrated themselves, their brothers the Levites helped them, until the work was finished— for the Levites were more upright in heart than the priests in consecrating themselves.
I guess this argues both for internships where people who aren't necessarily qualified for the work to it anyway, and for moving on with the work however you can.
In any case, I'm glad to see that there is Grace, and provision for our need.
Interesting that the king would know that he is breaking the law here, but that it would seem right to him, anyway. Presumably that it is better to celebrate a month late than to miss the year entirely.
15And they slaughtered the Passover lamb on the fourteenth day of the second month. And the priests and the Levites were ashamed, so that they consecrated themselves and brought burnt offerings into the house of the LORD.
So apparently in addition to being late, the sacrifices weren't made by the priests and levites!
16They took their accustomed posts according to the Law of Moses the man of God. The priests threw the blood that they received from the hand of the Levites. 17For there were many in the assembly who had not consecrated themselves. Therefore the Levites had to slaughter the Passover lamb for everyone who was not clean, to consecrate it to the LORD.
Presumably some of those that made the priests and levites ashamed were those sacrificing without being clean, in addition to not being levites or priests.
18For a majority of the people, many of them from Ephraim, Manasseh, Issachar, and Zebulun, had not cleansed themselves, yet they ate the Passover otherwise than as prescribed.
Even though some of them did not offer the sacrifices unclean, they still ate of the passover unclean.
So, to summarize the points of breaking the law,
1. The passover was held in the wrong month.
2. The lambs were sacrificed (initially) by ordinary people.
3. (Some of) the people sacrificing were not clean.
4. The majority of the people ate without being clean.
I'm not sure how big of a deal #2 is in the law, but the others seem to be emphasized fairly strongly. And yet, what is the outcome?
For Hezekiah had prayed for them, saying, "May the good LORD pardon everyone 19who sets his heart to seek God, the LORD, the God of his fathers, even though not according to the sanctuary's rules of cleanness." 20And the LORD heard Hezekiah and healed the people.
So seeking God, and asking forgiveness for the wrong ways we do it, brings healing.
And in the end, they broke/amended/added to the law one more time:
23Then the whole assembly agreed together to keep the feast for another seven days. So they kept it for another seven days with gladness.
I trust this was covered by Hezekiah's earlier prayer.
Edit Aug 1 2010:
I just noticed, a chapter earlier, in 2 Chronicles 29:
34But the priests were too few and could not flay all the burnt offerings, so until other priests had consecrated themselves, their brothers the Levites helped them, until the work was finished— for the Levites were more upright in heart than the priests in consecrating themselves.
I guess this argues both for internships where people who aren't necessarily qualified for the work to it anyway, and for moving on with the work however you can.
In any case, I'm glad to see that there is Grace, and provision for our need.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
