All posts tagged: #danger

January 28th

During the Polar Vortex days of January Chris worked hard, traveled lots, and looked for a new job. The kids read under blankets when school was cancelled. I drank hot tea, ate too many tater tots, and researched danger. Researching is my favorite phase. Anything is possible, information is everywhere, and it’s too soon to act. God’s crazy message of “2015: THE YEAR OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY!!” might be about stepping into courage and away from fear, but I didn’t know how to do that. Then I read this one snowy morning: “What is the most needed, yet the most dangerous prayer you could ever pray? It is the one prayer that takes you beyond the small-picture hopes and dreams that kidnap so much of your prayers. It is all right to pray about your job, marriage, family, finances, house, children, retirement, vacation, investments, church, health, government and the weather, but it is not enough. This kind of prayer follows the “right now-me” model of prayer…Yes, God cares about your present life….But he calls you to view …

Context

I avoid danger in all forms. Like a normal person. I don’t eat weird food. I don’t climb tall ladders. I don’t sky dive. I like to read books and cook comfort foods. We want our home to be a “Safe Place” for people to come rest and be themselves. Becoming a parent made me an expert on danger. My babies were always seconds from certain death: the stairs, outlets, boiling water, food not cut small enough. The world was one big death trap for my toddlers: fast cars, strange dogs, big waves, kidnappers in the Target. How many times do young parents say, “nobody died today!” only half joking? And you parents of teens with drivers licenses and sketchy boyfriends and internet predators? It’s exhausting. Smart people run from danger and train their kids to as well. So I wasn’t very excited about God’s loud new message for me: “2015: THE YEAR OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY!!” It didn’t make sense. I kept asking about it in my prayer journal: “What does ‘Living Dangerously’ mean?  What are you asking me …

Food Poisoning

God talks to me. We have a big conversation every year between Christmas and New Year’s. It’s not like tea with the Queen where I’m in a new dress with notes on index cards. It’s more like a pitiful bedside chat with a doctor when I smell bad and feel like I’m dying. Last year, we talked after Food Poisoning. Chris and I met friends at a little Mexican place. It was delicious. I went crazy with exotic drinks, appetizers and beef tacos. I haven’t had beef tacos since. And I don’t think Chris has either. In the middle of the night he overheard my body removing the beef tacos both ways and stepped into the bathroom assuming I was being murdered. I was weeping and retching and begged him to leave the bathroom if we were ever going to have sex again. He later helped me back into bed. He showed me the bucket and path of towels next to the bed and ran out of the room to wash his hands and sleep on the couch. I …