Second Verse Girl

I have started at least five blog posts but haven't been able to finish one of them.  I started writing in a daily journal only to completely stop after two short weeks.  I started taking vitamin supplements hoping to feel better physically only to forget to take them most every day.  I have started writing two new songs with a chorus and a verse (even a bridge to one), but I can't seem to write the second verse.

When my dad came to visit for Father's Day and I told him about my unfinished songs, he told me I needed to be "a second verse girl".  You know; when I think back, there are several songs I never finished, at least half a dozen.  In fact, I haven't finished a song since I was 15.  The creative juices start flowing; but then somewhere in the middle, they tend to abruptly stop and leave me without a clue as to how to end it.  I wonder why that is?  I think it has something to do with losing self confidence somewhere along the way.  I get these great ideas, or hear an amazing sermon, or read a verse that stands out to me in the Bible, or experience something in life that causes me to start thinking about a song.  I start it, but then I can't finish it.

Then there are the little "projects" I have started around the house.  I just stopped typing, shook my head, and smiled.  I immediately thought of three things that I have been trying to do over the past two years.  Something else always takes precedence.  There is always something more important to occupy my time, or at least I think so.

I need to take my Dad's advice to heart and be that "second verse girl".  The ability to finish what one starts has always impressed me.  Anytime I see other people do this, no matter how great or small the project, I always mentally applaud them.  Accomplishment is a wonderful thing.  Starting something is one thing, but finishing it?  Wow.  Amazing.  There is very little in this life that impresses me more.

Aren't you glad God never has this problem with us?  He is the author and finisher of our faith.  Hebrews 12 :2 reads,

" Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God."

And what were the last spoken words of Jesus before he died on the cross?

 "When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost." (John 19:30)

I'm so very glad that God is a "second verse man".  He came to this earth robed in flesh and finished what He started.  He came for the sole purpose of becoming our sacrifice, to pay the penalty for sin once and for all.  And I believe that this same Jesus, the One who knows indeed how to finish what He starts, is able to do the same for us in our own personal lives.  He won't leave you hanging.  When you give your life in total surrender to Him and place everything in His capable hands, He'll take care of you.  I've got to add this verse...

  "Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ:" (Philippians 1:6)

One more thing... He's coming back.  Every prophecy written concerning the Messiah in the Old Testament was fulfilled in Jesus Christ.  I have every reason to believe that every prophecy concerning His return will also come to pass.

I am so thankful that He finishes what He starts.  How I long to be like Him!  God help me to be that "second verse girl".  Teach me to finish what I start, but most importantly... teach me to be complete in You.

Facebook Notes

I wanted to go ahead and put these on here, seeing as how they are basically blog posts anyway.

Memory Lane

Sunday, June 19, 2011

My Dad and I have always been very close. This being Father's Day, I tried to think back to my favorite memory with my Dad, there's so many to choose from. I could talk about Ludwig and Russnic... the infamous left and right hand puppets he created to help me understand my science homework when I was in first grade that immediately became our favorite past time for years. I could talk about him rocking me and singing to me for hours one night when my stomach hurt really bad and I couldn't sleep. I could talk about our reading chair... that old gray recliner that I would hop into with a book any time I wanted him to read to me... which was every day. I could talk about walking to The Country Kitchen when I was 4, that little mom and pop restaurant that used to be in New Albany, and how we would step on "turtles" and "alligators" on the way (the circle and rectangle shaped sewer tops in the sidewalk). I could talk about how he used to lay on his back, hold me up in the air, and make me "fly" around to McDonald's, or Walmart (gah), or anywhere else I wanted to "go". There are the times I would love to just sit and watch him do this really neat doodling with lines that I've only seen him do. And then there are the countless memories of his singing, preaching, and ministry. But by far... one memory stands out among all the others. I love snow. I always have. Dad was working the late night shift one winter, and it started snowing on his way home. When he got home, he woke me up and told me to put my shoes and coat on... didn't tell me why or where we were going. Then he walked with me outside while it snowed, all the way down Bankhead street on the sidewalk. We chit chatted the entire way with the snow quietly falling around us. It's a moment I will never, ever forget, and it only barely describes the wonderful man I am privileged to call Daddy.

Belly Button

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

About this time a year ago, I held Eliana Nicole in my arms for the very first time. What an easy birth compared to Rachel (12 hours), or even Jordan (6 hours). Ellie let me know she was contemplating making her grand appearance a few days ahead of time, but like now, she didn't get in too big of a hurry. We timed Braxton Hick's contractions about every 30 min. to an hour for a good two days before being induced in the hospital. But June 14 would have still been her birthday, with or without Pitocin. We were already at 5cm when they first checked me that morning. She may have been an easy delivery, with her being born exactly 11 minutes after they told be I was at 10 cm (I pushed for 2 hours with Rachel...ugh). But the pregnancy was another story. My body was older, more used, the heaviest it's ever been, and very, very tired during those 9 months. Enduring two glucose tolerance tests (with that gaggy thick syrup and blood draws for 4 hours), I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes during my third trimester, and thus began a diet change and many finger sticks. In the end, through all the aches, pains, and woes of pregnancy, I count myself beyond blessed to have been able to bring life into this world for the third time. I see it as a privilege, not a right. It is my body, no doubt. But at the moment of conception, a woman's body is taken over by a being that quite literally draws the very life out of her to feed itself. My body is not my own for 9 months, it's shared. And for the only time in my body's existence, it does not fight a foreign being or sees it as an intruder... it instead fully embraces it, protects it, and will draw vitamins and minerals from it's very bones to give to the little one growing inside if not provided through other means. Pregnancy is the only time a human body will give up the survival instinct of self preservation to give of itself to another beating heart. What an amazing, wonderful time. It may sound cliché', but it's worth it all. From the time my ears hear that first doppler heart beat, to the time my eyes first see the tiny beating heart on the screen, to the time my belly feels that first kick, to the time my arms feel the soft, newborn skin... it's worth it all. And every time I see that belly button, whether during a diaper change or bath time... I'm reminded of where we were connected together for a short time, and that even though we're now separated from that physical bond, we'll forever be inseparable through the bonds of love.