I'm not Linda

"Grabill Missionary Church, this is Hope."

I'm only here this week, so I can't answer all of your questions.

I can tell you that Kelley Sewell is not here. He's in Belize right now.
And Sarah isn't here either.
I can try to connect you to one of the interns, but their office is in the basement, so I don't even know whether or not they're in the building.

No, Star is out for the rest of the day.
(That's why I answered the phone.)
And Linda isn't here, either.
(That's why I answered the phone.)
Yes, I can schedule you for a time for your directory photo.
There aren't any slots that are completely open, but no one is taking the full 15 minutes, so we can fit you in.

Yes, Jon is here.
He's my dad.
I'm Hope Swanson.

I am not Linda.
I can't give you all of the answers that she could.
And I'm sorry that Star isn't here to help.

Kelley is gone, Sarah is gone, Pastor Bill is gone, Lee is gone, Marsha is gone, Kim is gone, Linda is gone.
Right now, I'm the only person in the building.
I hear noises, and I expect someone to come around the corner, but it's just me.

And now I'm going to lock up and leave.

fingertips on fire.

I just started to learn/teach myself how to play the guitar. I've been playing the piano for almost 11 years, and I love it. But I figured it was time to be able to play an instrument that's a bit more portable.

A few weeks ago, my dad brought home a guitar. I think it's his. Last week, he had one of our Worship Pastors re-string it. The strings were about three years old and had rusted.

I've learned a few chords in the past week, but tonight I finally decided that I need to get serious about it. So I can play a G, an Em, a C, and a D. In that order. Very slowly. After about ten or twenty minutes, I had to quit.

My fingertips are on fire. The slightest touch causes pain. If you play guitar, I'm sure you know how this feels. It's not fun.

I'm frustrated with the guitar. It doesn't make sense. The piano, that makes sense. Chord progressions are in the same relative locations no matter what the key. On the guitar, it doesn't work that way. You have to change the length of the string to change the note. And you have to build the callouses. And you have to build finger strength. My ring finger is the worst right now.

I'll keep practicing and I'll keep posting about it.

Interlude (Beautiful Wedding)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3U2_wtKHL1I


This is a song I wrote last May. I performed it on Sunday at GMC's Music in the Park.

made worthy.

During our vacation to New Hampshire, I was able to sit outside and look at the stars. I stared at the sky for several minutes, and more and more stars became visible every second.

I once watched an episode of “Curious George,” in which George wanted to count all of the stars. He always fell asleep before he could finish the job. Even when he tried to mark his place using the Big Dipper, he couldn’t do it. There are more stars than anyone could count.

But “He counts the stars and calls them all by name” (Ps. 147:4). He holds them in His hand. And He holds me in His hand. People always talk about how small they feel when they look up at the stars and realize the enormity of the universe. But we don’t need to feel that way. God cherishes His children above everything else He created. “The LORD’s delight is in those who fear Him, those who put their hope in His unfailing love” (Ps. 147:11).

We often come to God and say how unworthy we are. I think that downplays God’s grace. He created us in His own image. He breathed life into mankind and made him “a little lower than God” (Ps. 8:5). Psalm 8 is actually a perfect passage to describe what I’m trying to say. It’s all about how big God is and how small we are and how He values us above everything. David marvels at the wonders of the night sky, just as I did that night.

God is so far beyond anything we could imagine, but He loves us. He made us to be worthy of His love. He chose to send His only son to die for us. It is so completely unfair of us to decide that we did not deserve that sacrifice.

I’m as guilty of this as anyone. I forget how much I am loved by my Heavenly Father. I verbally beat myself so much more than I should. I acknowledge that I’m a sinner and take it to the extreme, thinking myself worse than others.

We are all sinners. No one is better or worse than any other. But we are forgiven and are offered eternal life. It is our job to accept that gift and to live in such a way that is pleasing to God.

“You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had” (Phil. 2:5).

he's been a good dog.

I was five years old when Shiloh came home. We were still living in Goshen.
I hadn't had many good experiences with dogs in my early childhood, so I wasn't an instant fan of the one that was going to live with us. I warmed up to him after a few months, but I never really liked him.

While I was in my early teens, Shiloh would regularly get into my purses and strew their contents throughout the house. I often ranted about how much I hated him.

As I spent more time home alone, I ended up talking to Shiloh about everything. He's always been around.

Until this morning. We decided last Wednesday that the only logical choice would be to put Shiloh to sleep.
He's been deteriorating pretty rapidly for the past couple years. A series of ear infections left him deaf, he was going blind, arthritis in his hips made the stairs in our house difficult, and for the past six months Shiloh has become confused and disoriented. We're leaving tomorrow for a week-long vacation, and the cost of the vaccinations and boarding that would be required wouldn't be worth it. Waiting until August, when I leave for school, wouldn't have been a good idea, so Dad took him in today.

Logic doesn't make it easy, but I'm getting through it. I was a little upset this morning when I left the house. I always say "bye Shiloh" as I walk out the door, and when I realized that I couldn't do that anymore, I was disappointed. Our routines will change, our house will be quieter, our breathing might be easier, and our sleep will be uninterrupted. It was the right choice.

I'm working at my church this week and today is the first day of summer discipleship groups. Three of the girls from the senior high group came in just before 2:00, carrying Starbucks coffee and a box. "We brought something for you." Well, I was expecting the Starbucks, but the contents of the box were a surprise. Last night, the girls had found a kitten outside Ricker's. It was in a cardboard box. The box was marked "FREE." The word was written in lipstick. Sketchy, right? Well, that's the kitten's name. Her voice is hoarse, her teeth and claws are sharp, and she's she was sleeping quietly until the girls came back.

Okay, this is how I'm ending this one. I have to go run an errand.