My Kitchen

There's a word in architecture which I like better than "junking." The term is "adaptive reuse." Adaptive re-use is repurposing a school into an elderly assisted living apartment building vs. repurposing a chicken coop into kitchen decor.

Here is a picture of the adaptive re-use of a chicken coop. This is the type of contraption that one uses to bring chickens to market for sale. I have filled it with my collection of ceramic and fabric chickens and it hangs in my kitchen. I bought it at a junk store in Los Angeles while at a conference. My co-workers were not especially pleased that this very authentic coop, chicken poo and feathers to prove it, sat in the back of the Red Cross van. I scrubbed it off and had it sit in the San Diego sun for a week before bringing it inside.

While I'm at it, here's a picture of my kitchen hoosier cabinet that my mother bought as a house-warming present.

We ran out of funds in the kitchen renovation when we got to the spice cabinets. Our version is craft crates from Michael's which were on sale. Restoring an old house can be pricey. You have to improvise.

Field Trip - McDonald's Garden Center - Now is the time to plant pansies

I love McDonald's Garden Center. It is right next door to the more familar McDonald's, the Golden Arches in Chesapeake VA. McDonald's is a small chain of three stores. They decorate magificently for every season and it is soothing the the soul to browse among the fruit trees, herbs and roses in the Spring. My favorite time, though, is Autumn. You can see why in the picture above. McDonald's staff is very knowledgeable and generous with suggestions and advice. It is one of those places where I feel happy just to walk in the door.

http://www.mcdonaldgardencenter.com/

Junk Sophisticate

I love reading blogs. From time to time, something in another girl's blog really inspires me. I recently stumbled across Junk Sophisticate http://junksophisticate.blogspot.com/ and found some inspiration for my front door from her. Just to give credit where credit is due. It isn't that I copied her autumn front door display, but she gave me the idea to run out grab the antique ladder for the loft in the detached garage.

Annie of Chincoteague

This is where I had lunch today, one of the best crab meals I've ever had...on Chincoteague Island. Chincoteague is on Virginia's Eastern Shore, about a 90 mile drive from my house. Bill's Seafood is one of those places which doesn't look terribly impressive from the outside, but it was just wonderful on the inside. Bills is located at 4040 Main Street, Chincoteague Island, Virginia, 767-336-5851.

I had a hard time deciding between Sugarbaker's and Bill's. I loved the show, Designing Women, so I found the front window and the name of Sugarbaker's charming. My choice was made easy when I realized I was too late for lunch at Sugarbaker's.

The building with the goose out front pictured above is one of the charming shops on Main Street, while the square white building with the patriotic bunting and cobalt blue stained glass is the Chincoteague Public Libary.














This statue commemorates a beloved book from my childhood called Misty of Chincoteague. Chincoteague is home to wild ponies. Misty was an actual pony whose descendents still live on the Island to this day. Each year on July 7, the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Department rounds up these wild ponies for sale to benefit the department and to keep the pony population under control. It is often covered on the national news. Misty of Chincoteague was written at Miss Molly's Inn, which you can see in one of the top pics.


This is one of the lovely bed and breakfasts available on the island. Chincoteague Island is also home to many beautifully restored private Victorian homes.
























Many of the shops are decorated in honor of the Harvest. I thought this one was a lot of fun.
















This is the marsh area of the national wildlife sanctuary on the Island. I shot it from a moving car and was delighted with how it came out.















Another bed and breakfast in a restored Queen Anne Victorian home.















The detail on the Victorian home pictured is called "fish scale" for obvious reasons. The cat silhouette is a more recent addition. Many of the old homes in this little village show this detail, which commemorates the residents' links to fishing as a way of life.





















This is Chincoteague Island's vintage 1930's two-screen theater. I like these much better than the 24-plex monstrosities at the mall.

Though I was only 90 miles from home, I felt like I had stepped into another world. Some of my favorite childhood books were The Lonely Doll, Hide n Seek Fog and Misty of Chincoteague. Just seeing the statue and the actual spot where Misty was written brought back the kid in me. The quiet beauty of nature is everywhere you look on the Island, the kind of quiet waters that do indeed restore the soul.

Here's some information about Misty http://minipony.onestopequine.net/misty.html

and here's some more info about the Island

http://www.chincoteague-island.net/

My Daily Walk

I am really blessed with all the sights and sounds during my walk along Crawford Bay and the Elizabeth River. There is one thing that makes me smile every time I see it and it is the picture above. The round sign up high on the on the pole (which you may not be able to see without double clicking on the pic) says, "Swimming Point." Swimming Point is a tiny, exclusive enclave right on Crawford Bay in Portsmouth. The black and white sign to the left reads, "No fishing, crabbing or swimming. No one else finds it as silly as I do, that there is no swimming at Swimming Point.

Bowman's Is A Magical Place

Sarah Sparrow supervising while Nora Spotted Dog checks a price for me. Any business with a resident dog is tops in my book.

Bowman's Garden Center is one of those magical places that makes me feel happy every time I step across the threshhold. Bowman's used to be a 7-11. I'm not a big fan of 7-11, apologies to all those Slim Jim and Slurpee fans out there. Bowman's magic took over on Green Street years ago, so all you can still see of the convenience store is the brick facade. There isn't a Slurpee in sight and you can't buy lottery tickets.

Behind Nora Spotted Dog in the top pic is one of my favorite people on earth, Sarah. My friend Pat calls her Sarah Sparrow. That isn't her last name, but I like it better than the one she has, a leftover from a husband who was very cruel years ago. However, Sarah is quick, darting and British, so Sarah Sparrow suits her,. Sarah designs exquisite floral arrangements, particularly the ones she lovingly prepares for the church altar each week. One Thanksgiving she decorated with artisan breads, fruits and vegetables..it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

As you can see, the colors in Bowmn's are wonderful, as are the display fixtures. Rich Bowman, the owner, has a careful eye for staging and detail. There are no metal stands of any kind leftover from the old 7-11. Rather he uses things like old shutters, armoires and chippy white painted shelving to display things to their best advantage.

I'm bananas for this blue background.

This bureau with the vintage mirror is also to die for.

These Mardi Gras mummers mask owls speak to me. I'm not sure what I'd do with them, being a little old to go out Trick or Treating... I think they might startle Bruce.

Here's a Bowman's spot which invites me to just pick up a book and sit and read for a while. The staff might think it odd, however. On the other hand, I think the staff already knows that I'm odd.

Please note the invitation for "free broom rides." I don't know about you, but aren't there certain times when you're in the car fighting traffic that you think that a broom might be a more appropriate mode of transportation...just based on your witchy disposition alone?



I think the sepia tones in this area of Bowman's are just lovely. This isn't a color which I typically gravitate to, but in this case, it just makes me think, "Harvest."

If you are in the Portsmouth, VA area, drop by Bowman's, 315 Green Street, Olde Towne, Portsmouth, 757-393-2070. You'll feel happy just walking in. Perhaps Rich will offer you a cucumber (yes, I said cucumber) soda or a latte. That special gift of hand made jewelry for a dear friend may be waiting for you. Sarah Sparrow will be happy to wait on you, just tell her Annie sent you.

Autumn in the Front Hall

I change the items on and around my antique marble top chest in the front hall for each season. This chest is wonderfully carved in the front, has many drawers which I store linen in and little brass rings that serve as drawer pulls. It belonged to my maternal grandmother, who left me some lovely Victorian things, but I have no other information about it. I wish I knew.

The cloche (or bell jar) to the left and the apothecary jar to the right tend to stay, but the garland around the mirror and other items change from shells to Christmas ornaments to fruit to candy corn to pine cones, depending on my mood. Right now, you can see some friendly scarecrows and fall leaf garland. I don't care for gruesome Halloween decorations.

The doorway leads to my kitchen. I adore the transom window over the top of the door. The wreath in the transom is made from feathers. I bought it from a magical place called Bowman's Garden Center in Olde Towne, Portsmouth. I'll have to do a field trip there soon so you can see.

The Old Mirror from Ghent

Ilove to restore or reuse old things. One night when I was walking in Ghent near the Donut Dinette, I found an old mirror left for the trash. I'd rather fix something that was trash picked than have someone give it to me new. It is also "green" and re-cycled... just think, the old mirror isn't in a land fill. The mirror reborn as a chalkboard sits over a cedar-lined built in storage "locker" that I just love.

Also trash picked is the pie safe you see at the end of the hallway. It was apparently an old chicken coop and had the chicken poo poo on it to prove it. I cleaned it, sanitized it and Bruce lined the doors with chicken wire. It is one of two real chicken coops I have in my house. Bruce finds this odd having grown up around the smell of chickens. I grew up around the smell of the subway, so I find him odd because he knows how to milk a cow by hand. That reminds me of a funny scene from one of my favorite movies, "Witness," but I digress

I've had a passion lately for chalk boards/slates. I think I first saw Kim at Daisy Cottage writing little messages on slates.

http://deardaisycottage.typepad.com/ I love them because when I see little quotes or things I want to remember, I have my own little soapbox to say what I will.

We pulled out the broken mirror, leaving the frame and spray painted it white. I traced the outline of the mirror's inside and used chalk board paint on the wall. I leave little notes for my husband or what have you on this little framed chalkboard.

The rest of what you see is my long, dark, narrow hallway that I painted a sunny yellow. It is also a TALL hallway, the ceiling is 11 feet high, so you can't even see the vintage lamp. The pic looks odd at that angle, but it is the only way to include most of the elements in the hall.

Autumn Fresh Flowers

I love this primitive yellow tool box with the "Fresh Flowers" on it. I've filled it with pansies and fall mums and put it on my front porch. If you look closely, you will see that the handle of the tool box is made of a spindle from an old staircase. The handle still has traces of wonderful old green paint on it.

The white you see behind it is mosquito netting that we use when eating outside. I don't like the look of screening on a front porch. I think it makes the front of the house look kind of blank. The netting looks prettier, I think.

Another one of my odes to Autumn.

Peeping Tomasinas and Keys

Did I ever tell you that I'm a Peeping Tom...or I guess a Peeping Tomasina? My goal is not to see naked people or even people at all. I want to see people's decor. I want to see their wall colors, their window treatments and how they hang pictures on the wall. On my evening walks, I'm always delighted with the people who leave their blinds up. That's why I love some blogs so much, because they are another way of peeping into someone else's house. So here's a peep into mine.

I've always been fascinated with keys, particularly skeleton keys. My grandfather, whom we all called "Father" to distinguish him from my own father (a man who I assure you could never be referred to as "Junior," though he is one) was an attorney. As an aside, you can see my father's sepia colored graduation pic in the round frame on the left hand pic I've posted.

Father had acquired a large number of skeleton keys from estates he had settled. They were kept in a canvas bag in the wonderful old pantry my grandmother had, third drawer down. How I'd love to have that pantry now! When I worked at the old church, we re-keyed after renovation and happily, I ended up with all those old keys.

I also have a precious key from "Pop" my other grandfather. You can see this key in the first pic, it is the one that hangs down lower than the others. My Pop had a kind, smoothing voice and sparkling blue eyes. He looked like Jimmy Cagney. He worked in at a pub called "the Hub" (which according to the key chain, celebrated its 50th anniversary in 1959!) after teaching all day so that my mother and Uncle Jimmy could go to college. The wonderful old Bakelite owl key chain with the key to that bar in Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania was found amongst his things after he went to Heaven.

So many keys found their way to me that I decided to use them in my decor, as a sort of chair rail border. You can also see an ancestor's old pocket watch. I also used some old things that I found in the yard, like a big old hook I found when digging a garden. You can also see my homage to Tina at Cherry Hill Cottage, in the little teapot with the flowers. She did something similar a few weeks back.

Jesus said that he gave us the keys to the kingdom of heaven, so I'm glad those hundred of keys hang there to remind me of that.

The Donut Dinette

This is the Donut Dinette in the Ghent neighborhood of Norfolk, just 4 miles from my house through the Midtown Tunnel. This tunnel takes me underneath the Elizabeth River which separates our two cities, something I contemplate as I frequently drive through it.

I often wonder what size of ship is actually navigating through the harbor right over my head there as I drive underneath. It could be a dear red tuggie, a Navy ship, a coal barge or even a Mickey Mouse ship, the Disney Magic, which was overhauled in the Titan drydock last month.



Ghent is an eclectic, trendy area of lovingly restored old homes, gorgeous apartment buildings from the the turn of the century with names like "Princess Anne" carved into the lintels, a bird sanctuary and all the hip restaurants. Ghent is so cool it has TWO Starbucks and and an independent coffee shop, too.



The Donut Dinette isn't contrived retro. It is just the way it has always been, with a vintage Coke signs that aren't just old-LOOKING, they've just been there for over sixty years. Authentic old-timey is so much better than "let's try to make this look old."

The "Donut" has only vintage stools inside and what used to be called a lunch counter. It is tiny and there is no room for any booths. These are the kind of stools I used to spin around on to make myself sick as a kid at Shady Glen in East Hartford, CT! In the temperate months, they have tables and chairs out front. However you have to go inside to step back into the past when it almost seems as though you could look down at the Virginian Pilot paper to see where Tommy Dorsey was playing live and learn that Mrs. Roosevelt was visiting in West Virginia to inspect working conditions in the coal mine.


The Donut is one of those places I've passed about a bazillion times and thought, "how cute, we should go there." One night, Bruce and I went for a walk in Ghent. As we passed The Donut, I noticed the that someone was inside the closed restaurant making donuts with his dog; a white dog with a big black patch over his eye curled up on the black and white tiled floor. Okay, the Health Department would have freaked, but I considered it perfection! I had to go.



The Donut's staff are perfect, too. In an age of sometimes surly serice, they are friendly and talkative. They seem to be throwbacks to another time, too. Customers come in, cheerfully teasing each other and staff, reading the paper and "talking story" (as they say in Hawaii. Is that pidgeon English term not a perfect word picture?)


The cooking grill is right out in the open, behind the counter. Two can have the breakfast special and coffee for under $20 with tip, which is A-okay in my estimation. Last time I was there I had eggs over medium and rye toast (no grits for this transplanted Yankee, read a vintage decorating magazine, spun around on my stool just a little, held hands with Bruce and thought of how sublime life can be.

Autumn at 256

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~George Eliot

George Elliot was the pseudonym of the great author MaryAnn Evans. I feel the same way she did about Fall. By early September, the landcape looks tired and dried up. I feel tired and dried up, too. It is a great joy to change my seasonal decor to concentrate on God's bountiful Harvest.

The first pic is of my fireplace mantle area. I finally got up the nerve to paint it white this Spring. It was one of the best decorating decisions I've ever made. Pssssst, I spray painted it!

The second pic is the area at the side entrance to 256. This is the side entrance that everyone wants to deliver flyers to. The census takers argued with me for a while about who lived there. I live there. The house was once a two-family during the war years, when it was considered a patriotic duty to divide your house if you were able, to accomodate the many shipyard workers who streamed into Portsmouth starting in 1941. 256 has been a single-family home for many years now.

The third pic is an area to the left of my front door. The final pic is a close up of a sweet, sentimental vintage harvest picture bought at a junk store on a old-timey looking easel I got at The Dollar Store. I put up the vintage Scrabble letters just for fun.

I see a few leaves turning color and there's a slight nip in the morning air here in Virginia. God's breathtaking artistry as He paints with golds, oranges and brilliant reds is just a few weeks away. Soon we will lay a fire in the fireplace and have roast pork and warm applesauce with cinnamon. We will bundle up in jackets put in the attic last Spring and throw a colorful pashmina around our neck. We'll harvest the pecans in the backyard, bake hubbard squash and make pumpkin muffins. It is time for parnsips, chestnuts and maple sugar candy. And I can't wait!

Children of the Corn

My nieces are the joy of our lives. Since we've never had children of our own, it is such a treat to see the world from their eyes.

When Piper was 3 years old, she walked up to Famer Boy and said, "Tio Bruce, I have Jesus in my heart." Bruce always gravely addresses children as though he was discussing macro economics with Alan Greenspan, so he said, "Is that a fact? What is Jesus doing in there?" She thought briefly and very earnestly said, lifting her hands in the air, "He's vacuuming up all the bad stuff, Tio." This about sums up the Westminster Catechism, as far as I'm concerned.

Piper is thoughtful, very intelligent and thinks about things before she does them. I think she is going to be a risk management director for a major insurance company when she grows up.

Jaime, her sister, is her polar opposite. Jaime of the huge brown eyes, mischeivous ways...Jaime the outrageous who exited the rink from her sassy ice skating dance performance with the heart shaped Elton John sunglasses and the jeans jacket she chose over a little tutu number and said to my mother, "Gran they loved me!" I think she has already written her Academy Award speech.

Piper who keeps a confidence to her heart and Jaime? Well, as we say, "Telephone, telegraph...tell Jaime." You never know what Jaime will share in Show and Tell the week after you see her. Piper who never wants to get out of bed and Jaime who is smiling at you at 5 a.m. all ready to start the day.

They were here late this summer. We had quite the hilarious time at Water Country USA. Little kids are an excuse to act like a child yourself. They were amazed that Tia Annie wasn't afraid and wasn't screaming. We baked bread and I had planned to take them to the beach. They preferred to play in the sprinkler in the back yard, play in the corn and pick fresh vegetables in the garden.

Jesus said "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, for such is the kingdom of heaven." He was right.

Bad Blogger

I have been a really bad blogger. I almost quit blogging entirely, but I decided this morning that I wouldn't let a really terrible experience stop me. I hope you'll allow me some indulgence as I share with you the experience and, if you're so inclined, pray for me and the person involved.

I have a neighbor, let's call him George. He's a colorful human being with interesting ideas about life, neighborly behavior and how to keep up his property. I was once the Civic League President for my neighborhood and off and on for years, he has blamed me for calling the housing inspectors about his property. For the record, I never have...but they have sure called me to figure out how to deal with him.

George's colorful nature causes him to do things like building a tower on the side of his house with no city permit. We call it the gun tower. His neighbor says he uses it to look down into the neighbor's hot tub. This neighbor complained and then, suddenly, his little dog was missing until he saw it looking out from George's house. Then the dog suddenly returned after being missing two days. When he has construction debris to dispose of, he burns it in the front yard in the middle of a city. I think you get the picture.

Over a month ago, when my blogging stopped, I was out taking pics for both my and my Civic League's website. It was a lovely day. I was enjoying a walk with the dogs prior to leaving for church. I made the huge mistake of taking a picture of a fence George had installed on his front porch. George is a master welder and does beautiful work. The light was hitting this metal fencing in the shape of a sunburst just right, so I snapped a pic.

I had no idea that George had, yet again, been cited by the housing inspector for another infraction. He thought I was spying on him. He and my husband had words. My husband called him a "horse's ass" which he admits wasn't the most Christian response. George came out onto the street and challenged my husband to a fist fight. We walked home with him bouncing up and down with his fists raised, calling us names and following us for while.

The next day, my husband, Farmer Boy, left for Groton, CT for three weeks. Also on the next day, I was informed by my police officer friend Jason that George had filed a warrant with the magistrate for "threat to commit bodily harm." "You horse's ass" had changed into, pardon the expression, "I'm going to kick your ass." Farmer Boy has a top secret security clearance in order to work on submarines. I might add that he has never been in any trouble of any kind ever in his entire life. We were very concerned about how this would affect his clearance.

This caused us unimageanble stress and me a lot of fear while he was gone. However, we put it in God's hands. When Farmer Boy got back, he appeared in court and the charges were dismissed because George never showed up in court.

A week later, George went to another magistrate and filed another warrant for the same incident on the same day. Only this time, he said that Farmer Boy threatened him with a gun. This is a violation of double jeopardy (in addition to being a bald-faced whopper of a lie), so it cannot go too far forward in the court system, but again, it is stressful, sad and painful.

A local attorney and public official and my hero even though we are from differing political philosophies, has agreed to represent us pro bono and adivses that we have nothing to worry about. I know that legally this is the case. However, from a neighborly standpoint it breaks my heart.

I'm busy re-evaluating how I stay involved and contribute my fair share. It is my visibility as Civic League President is what started this whole thing. I'm bearing consequences with someone for calling city housing inspectors when I never did, soley because I volunteered to help make my neighborhood a better place.

However, I've decided that since I love blogging so much and since I love reading blogs that have enriched my life immeasurably, especially Debra's from "As I See It Now," http://debrasotherthoughts.blogspot.com/ that I won't let George take this away from me. If you're reading this, say a prayer for him that God will clear his mind and change his heart. And sends a plague of boils on him. Joke!

And since I ended up with so much grief over the pic I took, I might as well use it, so please enjoy it...LOL. As you can see, it is beautiful work. I mght add that this house was essentially a shack when George bought it. He does beautiful work and eventually, cleans up the property. It is too bad that his behavior doesn't match how attractive his work ultimately is.

I'm going back to my joy of writing and blogging. So you'll be hearing from me more often.

Anne

Laminin - The Glue of the Human Body

Have you heard about laminin? Lamimin is a protein found in the human body, which is used to connect cells together. It has been described as the glue of the human body.

Here’s the definition according to Wikipedia:
Basically, laminin is a protein found in the "extracellular matrix", the sheets of protein that form the substrate of all internal organs also called the "basement membrane". It has four arms that can bind to four other molecules.

The three shorter arms are particularly good at binding to other laminin molecules, which is what makes it so great at forming sheets. The long arm is capable of binding to cells, which helps anchor the actual organs to the membrane. The laminin protein is made up of three separate parts, called the A, B1, and B2 chains.

What to learn more? Check out this short video from You Tube. It will knock you over with its inspiration, humor and scientific evidence of God’s glory.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_e4zgJXPpI4

And may I add just one more thought to Pastor Louie’s wonderful presentation? Please note the last sentence from the Wikipedia definition; “The laminin protein is made up of three separate parts, called the A, B1 and B2 chains.” Or should we call them instead; “The Father, Son and Holy Spirit.?”

Is life hard right now? Are things coming at you so quickly that it seems difficult to stand up under it? Jesus promised that the Kingdom of God is within you. Has science now proven this in an actual tangible way, for those of us who have the figurative “ears to hear” that Jesus talked about? The glory of God is truly within us. Do you have a chronic illness? Take heart, because the triune God is holding you together. Literally. Glory to God!

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and IN HIM ALL THINGS HOLD TOGETHER. Colossians 1:15-18

Thou Art Graven in My Hands

I took my usual morning walk along the sea wall of the Elizabeth River. The walk begins in Olde Towne, with the gorgeous old houses, each one an individual jewel unlike all the others. Next comes Crawford Bay, usually with diamonds dancing on the very gentle waves as the sun shines on them. The sailboats sway in place where they are moored and the skyline of Norfolk is just across the water.

My favorite part of the walk is when I’m meandering along near the actual sea wall. Portsmouth is a gritty, working port and has been so continuously for over three hundred years. No contrived “re-creation” like those in New York City and Mystic, CT for us!

A paddle wheel passenger ferry takes commuters and visitors back and forth to Norfolk all day. I love the red Matson Company tugboats which chug, chug, chug along pushing coal barges and other vessels. I have a passion for the red tuggies and even have a model of one in my kitchen. The Titan dry dock usually echoes with the sounds of the chipping and grinding of a ship in re-fit. Huge cruise ships float by.

I pass the Lightship Museum and the Mexican restaurant. I finally double back around at the police station and head toward home around the same way, taking advantage of being along the water as much as possible.

The only items which I carry as I walk are my keys. My hand started to ache this morning as I was nearing the end of the walk. I realized that for some reason, I had been gripping the keys very tightly, so tightly that the imprint of one of the keys was left in my palm.


Did you know that the Lord holds on to you and to me just like that? It’s true! Isaiah 49:15-16 tells us, “But Zion said, The Lord has forsaken me, and my Lord has forgotten me. And the Lord answered, ‘Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yes, they may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have indelibly imprinted (tattooed a picture of) you on the palm of each of My hands.’” (Amplified Version) The King James version paints even a clearer picture by saying, “Thou art graven in my hands.”

The Random House Dictionary defines “graven” as deeply impressed upon or firmly fixed. God holds each of us so tightly that our impression is firmly fixed into His hands. When you have one of those days when you feel forsaken and forgotten, remember that our times are in His Hands. In those hands are not only the imprints from Roman nails, but also our own individual imprints, because he’s holding us that tightly.

Anne Ortlund and the Parting of the Red Sea

Did I ever tell you about the big miracle in my life? My loving God does quiet miracles all the time. However, I think God only gives the grace of “parting of the Red Sea” moments to weak people like me who occasionally need signs and wonders. Oh, unbelieving and perverse me! However, I accept these moments with the deepest of gratitude to a gracious Lord who knows my every weakness and even the number of hairs on my head.

I was in a job that was consuming me. One day I had made a mistake with the payment of a credit card, which I was able to correct at the bank in person. On my way to Towne Bank, I heard a voice in my head say, “You are worthless. Drive your Jeep into that tree.” I had no intention of doing so, but I realized that I needed some help.

On that very bad day, I came home to a newsletter from Renewal Ministries. Renewal works with pastors, missionaries and other church workers who need refreshment and a new perspective. Anne Ortlund and her late husband, Ray, founded Renewal Ministries. You can learn more about the ministry at http://www.ortlund.org/.

Ray was the pastor of the famous Lake Avenue Church in CA. They are the authors of many books (together and separately), including Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman; Disciplines of the Heart; Disciplines of the Home; Up with Worship; Children Are Wet Cement; How Great Our Joy; Joanna; My Sacrifice, His Fire; Lord, Make My Life a Miracle; Confident in Christ; You Don’t Have to Give Up; etc.

In my early years as a Christian, my husband was deployed a great deal. Submarine op-tempo can be up to 70% of the time at sea. Many the night would find me sleepless and propped up in bed surrounded by a spotted dog, rice cakes, peanut M&M’s and a pile of Ortlund books. Just in case you're confused, rice cakes cancel out the calories of M&M's, as does Diet Pepsi.

The “Disciplines” books are available as one volume. I am on my third replacement of this book and the third copy is getting pretty raggedy, rather Velveteen Rabbit-esque. Anne Ortlund has been my boon companion during a lot of long nights.

Another different and loving voice that tough day said “Call Renewal.” I couldn’t shake it. I thought being mentored by Anne Ortlund would be only for the super spiritual, which I was surely not. I read another blog of a much-published author who stated she had waited 7 years to meet with Anne.

Nancy Leigh DeMoss, a mighty woman of God and founder of Revive Our Hearts Ministries, has shared on her radio broadcast that she also met with Anne and Ray before starting her ministry. You can learn more about this ministry at http://www.reviveourhearts.org/.

God parted the Red Sea for me in January, when I was privileged to spend 2 ½ days with Anne in her home in Newport Beach, CA being “Titus 2:3-4’d”, if you know what I mean. Me. Flawed me.

I have a confession to make. The love of God had never been particularly real or present to me. I’ve never doubted that there was a God. Since age 24, I have believed that Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. The problem was that I used to see myself as being so incredibly damaged that while God could love all mankind in a general way, I did not see the triune God as loving me individually.

This is a big lie of Satan, a very successful ploy he uses with many Christians. No matter what we underline in our Bibles, we often do not see who we are in Christ Jesus. God sees me through Jesus-colored glasses. Nothing I can do personally will ever make me “unflawed” enough to appropriate the acceptance of God, but everything that Jesus did will. Jesus said, “It is finished,” as he died on the cross. At that moment, all of my striving was made as filthy rags and I was accepted in the Beloved.

Anne Ortlund helped me to feel the love of God for me, Annie, personally. He knew the exact miracle needed to help me understand that He sees me individually. Just for me, He would stop Anne from all her other activities so that she could help me see this.

It is a pretty terrific thing to meet your heroine. Do you know what is even more terrific? When your heroine is everything that you hoped she would be and a whole lot more. Anne had just had surgery on her scalp. Twenty eight stitches were needed, yet as you can see from the picture, Anne looked so beautiful in a wig that you’d never know it. She had recently lost her husband of many years and was giving sacrificially. Anne was a gracious, wonderful hostess who poured herself into us.

I speak with Anne from time to time and now call her my friend. I left my difficult job and the painful worship situation that came with it. We finally were released to attend Kempsville Presbyterian Church full time, where we had found respite during the dry years.

Just to show us that He is still personally interested in me, God showed me another little glimpse of the miraculous. The first worship song at our new church was called, “I Am Free.” Although she and I had never specifically discussed the church we longed to attend when we visited Anne, God confirmed that we were in the right place when I recently discovered that the same worship leader who sang “I Am Free” is Anne’s nephew.

God knows me intimately and personally. He knows you the same way. And you can take that to the bank.

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I can't believe they did this to me. Just when I had developed a really nice fragrance by rolling around in the backyard and stealing the Noxzema face cloths out of the wash. I had just gotten
my fur into condition. They took pictures of this abuse. Can you believe it? Someone call PETA.

My parents stink. They're abusive. I'm not speaking to either of them. Little Bit

J. P. Morgan Didn't have a Clue

We enjoyed our trip to New York City right up to the last minute. As we were checking out, our bellman noticed the Bibles we were carrying. Greg let us know that three Guttenberg Bibles were on display at the Pierpont Morgan Library. We checked our bags at the hotel and took a cab cross-town to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Johannes Guttenberg is the father of the movable printing press. Only 48 of the Bibles he produced in the 1400’s are currently in existence. Three very good copies are in the Pierpont Morgan Museum, two printed on paper and one on vellum. Printing Bibles was his life’s work. You can learn more about the Morgan here: http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/exhibition.asp?id=7

I was in awe of the three Guttenbergs on exhibit, the first ever mass-produced vs. copied by hand by scribes. I switch Bibles each year. I generally use paperback Bibles, because I write, highlight, underline, make notes and just make a mess of mine. That's a picture of my Bible up there with the page open to one of the Psalms I have a tooled leather cover with handles that I use to hide all the mess, since I don’t write all over that.

I held my Bible to my chest and tried not to cry as I contemplated the differences between my Bible and those that were displayed. The Bibles on display were exquisitely rendered with gorgeous type and initial capital letters. Each Bible was unmarked in any way. They were, however, also protected by glass, untouchable, terribly costly in their own time and priceless in ours.

My Bible, a paperback Amplified version, cost under $20, although it is priceless to me. Almost everyone can afford a Bible today. Any church would gladly provide a seeker with a free Bible. The Gideons give them away to motels. How thankful we should all be for the great availability of Bibles in our time. We have any number of direct translations, paraphrases, parallel Bibles with several versions in one, Bibles on CD and every kind of study aid imaginable. Many of us do not take advantage of these materials, but they are there for us to explore the Word of God in all of its richness and complexity.

I moved on to view J. P. Morgan, the financier’s, office. The Pierpont Morgan Library is his former residence. The office was vast and imposing with a soaring ceiling. The walls were covered in red flocked velvet. Treasures lined the walls and chair rails, from ancient Egypt to ancient China and the European Renaissance. It was breathtaking.

What do you imagine, in the midst of such treasure, that J.P. Morgan gazed upon as he sat at his desk working? The painting of Madonna and Child by a Medeival artist and monk? A priceless Chinese horse figure? A Renaissance tresure? J.P. Morgan looked at a very large portrait of himself over the fireplace in front of him.

J.P. Morgan apparently spent time looking at himself. He had many, treasures, but I think he might have valued them more for their monetary value than for their history or for what they represented. Let’s not make that mistake.

It is easy to make old J.P.'s error. The Bible talks about idols that are man made and have eyes that can’t see and ears that can’t hear. Our homes can become idols, our careers, our exercise time or anything else that comes before our time with God.

Let’s take our focus off making ourselves and our possessions our idols and seek us first the kingdom of God. Let’s look instead to the Author and Finisher of our faith.

And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lords glory, are being transformed into His likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord. Corinthians 3:18