Christmas Day Good Samaritan?

I did something I've never done before in an airport. I grabbed a man's leg. This might not seem like much but I don't do stuff like that. I'm ok with handshakes, highfives, and a 3 second hug since I trust you. (I truly am the worst first date.) Making a huge, completely unfounded assumption I'll be someone's beloved, I have little physical contact with men. This body is a temple that belongs to Him, me and maybe a man on this planet. Hopefully he'll appreciate my attempts to honor him before we've met. In the meantime, even if he never shows, I'm on a tight leash. Alright, enough "this is how I'm wired."

So I'm on my way back home to Baton Rouge from the holiday. I'm in Houston and there is a man snoring on one of the seats close to me. I'm looking at him, wondering where he's been, where he's going, if he had a good Christmas, why he's traveling alone, if he has someone to hug when he gets to where he's going, if he loves Jesus. (I'm a complete people watcher and I'll throw a little magic into everything...) He had a fast food drink under his seat. He's been there long enough to get food, or at least get a drink, and he'd been there a while because all the condensation had run off of it. The plane arrives, deboards, and then they announce our departure. I figure someone will wake him up. I had already decided if no one wakes him up, I'm going to. He shouldn't miss his plane because he's tired.

A ton of people walk right past him! I couldn't believe it! They look at him as they walk right on by! But its the look of looking through someone. I hate that look. They see him but don't SEE him. It reminded me of the Good Samaritan bible story. So now I'm the one walking past him. Do I wake him up? Do I let him sleep? Come on God, what am I supposed to do?! Well, He doesn't say one word, so I go on gumption. I shudder at the thought of having to touch him, but I won't pass by and not try to help him. I figure if this isn't his plane, he'll just go back to sleep...

I start tugging on his shoe. He's still sleeping. Dang! I tug a little harder. Nope. Grrr. Wake up, Stubborn! I ask the lady one seat over if she knew where he was going. Nope, she didn't know. So I grab his leg an inch above his knee, turn a ridiculous shade of purple because I'm grabbing some stranger's leg and start shaking. He's still asleep! Sigh. This man needs to wake up before I give up. The nanosecond before I decide I'm going to give up, he opens his eyes. I was thrilled cuz I could stop touching him. I smiled at his left ear and said, we're leaving for Baton Rouge. He kind of shakes his head a little to wake himself up some more and I went and stood in line to board. I don't know if he even got on the plane, but that didn't really matter much to me. I didn't pass him by and I think He was smiling at me...

Presence...

I'm heading to Texas for the holiday,
but wanna leave a note before I go.
What? I'm a completely girly note writer...

God spoils me by giving me your presence in my life.
You're my favorite present...

The Pancake Dinner of '06

Tonight was our annual pancake dinner for church. I was standing there with Courtney, Carla and Meg when Jess came up and said for me to come in the kitchen. I looked at her and said, No. I can clean it if that's what you need. Jess says, Nope, get in here. Ok, I'm not sure if you've ever seen the fear of God on someone's face, but it definitely appeared a few times on my face through this experience. Meg pushes me towards the kitchen and I'm thinking I've had a good run at this church, but I'm pretty sure they'll kick me out when I kill someone with my cooking.

I'm put in front of two pans with sausage links on them. Courtney says she's done this before so it'll be fine. Carla comes along to help as well. My heart is pounding and I'm shaking. Alright, here's why I'm terrified. I mess things up all the time in the kitchen. Really. I'm not being charming, I'm a disaster in that room. And now I was going to feed a huge group of loved ones that could very easily turn on me if one of them gets food poisoning.

So I learn how to cook sausage links. A few people come by. Jake wants to take pics, which I cleverly avoid. T comes in with his camera, who caught on that I was avoiding him so he stubbornly took a few shots. Cody swings by and says, Allison are you ok? You look terrified... Finally the sausage was done. I survived. I've only got like second degree burns from the grease popping, but other than that, I'm alright.

Jess comes to the back and says, On to the bacon. Wait. What? I'm not emotionally prepared for bacon. She brings in a few pounds, yep, pounds, of bacon for us to cook. Cris comes in and gives me a few tips when it comes to cooking bacon. By the time that's done, I have to sit down for a second cuz I'm overwhelmed. I tried to hide the fact I'm crying a little but Courtney caught me. There was absolutely nothing wrong, I was just overwhelmed and that's the way we're wired. A few tears later and I'm ready for another pound of bacon.

The bacon is finished, and I've now got third degree burns from that bacon grease. It definitely pops you when you're least expecting it. Then I move over to Shawnelle who teaches me how to cook pancakes. Angie came by to see if she wanted to go eat and I tell her to go ahead, I think I'm alright. So she goes, but comes back cuz she wants some of "Allison's pancakes." We giggle and then she gives me strict instructions that now I have to practice my pancakes on someone.

All in all, my feet hurt cuz I was back there leaning over a griddle for hours, my hair smells like sausage/bacon, it was stressful, but I wouldn't have traded any of it. Everyone was completely supportive and I don't think anyone will die from my helping out in the kitchen. (Hear that God?) And when I went back into the kitchen Jess told me to turn right back around since I was a cook I was not going to clean up. A cook. She called me a cook!

Big thanks to Jess for her tenacity at getting me out of my comfort zone. Meg, for forcefully but gently shoving me in the direction of the kitchen. Carla, I will never look at another piece of bacon or sausage without thinking of you. Cris, for the stellar bacon tips. Courtney, for laughing at and with me through all this, and Shawnelle, in my heart you and I will forever be Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth...

Cold Calling...

Life has been crazy lately. Actually I don't think life really slows down much till you're dead. And then you're in heaven. I plan spending my eternal future on a porchswing with my Savior. In the meantime, I'm running around living life here right now.

I've been working a lot this week. So much so that I've been skipping a few meals to get everything taken care of. I still bring my lunch in the vague assumption at some point I'll be hungry, but usually I'm too busy. This morning I brought my lunch, leftover chinese, and put it in the fridge. Three o'clock rolls around and I realize my cell phone hasn't gone off in a while. In fact, I don't even see it on my desk. Hmm. Let me check my purse. Nope, no cell. And then the confusion clears as I consider the probability that I've left it in my lunch box, aka wal-mart bag. I go to the kitchen, open the fridge, grab the bag, look inside and low and behold, there's my phone.

At around three this afternoon, it died on me. The cold sucked the battery dry. But I did learn something in all this. I obviously need a vacation...

From Sparrows to Sultans...

I'm smiling a whole lot today and my day just started. God did some serious healing for a friend of mine. It doesn't surprise me that He still does miracles, but boy oh boy, its the WAY He does them that gets me grinning.

She'd gone to the doctor for a procedure recently. She'd taken all her pre-op medicine, was ready for the big show, they'd even put the iv in. And the doc comes in and says... Well, it looks like I won't be making any money today! She had been healing for a while and he didn't see any need to cut on her...

Sigh, that One. He sure is something... I love how He takes care of us...

Lord, You Catch Me When I'm Falling...

This whole developing a thick skin is harder than I expected it to be. I am not too good at it. In this whole process though I'm learning a bunch of things. About me, about how I react to life in general.

Its been a rough couple of days. I fail. A lot actually. You'd think I'd get better at it as time goes by. Nope. I hate it. Or I'm foolish. Or my hair won't behave. Or I get stressed from work, or church, or family, or home. Pick an Or. I think character is built in these Ors. When I can't be who I want to be, when I'm not enough, when the wisest thing I can do is shut my mouth, close my eyes and breathe.

My roomie and I are going through situations that are completely different but have the same results. There are parts of my life that I wouldn't trade for the world, I just go through moments of, Hey God, It's me, Allison. You're sure about keeping me here? I'm definitely trying to trust and obey, but my life doesn't look like I thought it would when I was younger.

My roomie asked what responsibilities were keeping me here in Baton Rouge. My response was that I don't consider love a responsibility. Its true. I don't mind one bit running around taking advantage of the opportunities to love that He's given me. Sometimes I rock at it, sometimes I fail at it. But His mercies are renewed daily so that gives me the courage to keep trying.

I don't mean this post to be whiny or pitiful. Yes, I get tired. I screw up. I'm fallible. I'm wrong more often than I am right. And yet God's grace, mercy, love, and chin up encouragement is always there itching to wrap me up in Him. I know He's taking care of me, even when I'm not so good at taking care of myself. I truly hated coming home to a dark empty house yesterday. It just adds the color of sad to my heart for a little bit. I think this world tries to toughen you up so much you forget that its perfectly fine to hurt a little sometimes. Its what you do with that hurt that helps shape you...

He's still in control of my wacky world. He will work everything according to His plan. I recognize that I mess up a lot, but that I do not have the power, authority, or skill to mess up His will for my life. Now that's truly amazing and is comforting all the way down to my toes...

I'm a Little Teacup...

Tonight my roommate told me I was a teacup. I've been called many things before, but a teacup not so much. She heard it from a sermon a while back. The preacher was talking about how women are teacups and men are water jugs. Teacups are treated delicately and gently. Water jugs however are thrown around in all sorts of rough and tumble stuff. They get tossed in the back of a truck. You don't treat teacups and water jugs the same. A teacup is held with fingertips, a water jug with a fist.

She told me this because I was definitely fragile tonight. I crack. I get jostled around in this thing called life. I don't understand when I get treated like a water jug. I am not a water jug. I'm a little teacup... And to be perfectly honest, I like being treated with gentleness and kindness, that's the way He made me. I cherish my innocence, however foolish and naive that may seem to the outside world. It's believing Him that I'm worth being treated with respect that is a challenge for me...

1 Peter 3:7-8...Husbands (Guys), in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives (gals), and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers. 8Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers (and sisters), be compassionate and humble.... I'm not anyone's teacup but His at the moment, so I kind of paraphrase it to make this applicable to my life. These verses remind me of how I should respect the gentlemen and ladies I have the honor to know. And yes, you have to add that Texas twang when you say gals...

Look with your eyes, Not your fingers...

Tonight I had the incredibly fun opportunity to babysit. It was a wide range of ages. Which is fine, cuz I can act like a kid at pretty much any age. Except babies. They terrify me. No lie. They don't like me, so I avoid them like the plague. And not like a mild plague, like a big serious plague. That's how much I avoid them. Plus they can smell fear...

Anyways, we had just finished our pizza. I had cleaned the kitchen. Everybody was fed and watered and settled in for a movie. That kept most of the older ones occupied. The little ones were a different story. They were delightful, but they move like ninjas. They'll be standing right in front of me, I'll blink and they've disappeared into another room. It was incredible. And kept all of us on our toes...

One of the wee boys, who is cute as a button, wrapped me around his little finger when he asked to sit on my lap. I'm a sucker for a pretty face. Especially when looks up at me, halfway grins, and says "more pwease" for the rice crispy treat we were sharing. Ech, be still my heart.

There was a moment when I turned into a mom. One of the little blessings saw a photograph and said, "I wanna see!" and promptly yanked it off the bookcase. Without even an as you please I say, "You can look with your eyes, not your fingers." And then realized what I'd just said in a mom tone of voice. I'm not sure where that came from. Unless you count the years of experience I had till I finally learned how to look and not touch...

Aw, Shoot!

I just missed the target. Come on Allison. Relax. Breathe. Yes, you're in Indiana and its freagin' freezing out here, but you're halfway done with this, so calm down, steady your heartbeat, and shoot three more arrows at 35 yards then on to the final round of 45 yards.

I was 14 or 15 at the time. I can't remember it was that long ago. I remember how I got to Indiana. Countless hours in the backyard with my bow. My mom yelling at me to come in because it was too dark for me to be shooting at anything. My dad giving me the nickname Robin. Starting out with the target superclose. Then working my way farther and farther along. Slowly getting acquainted with my bow, how to shoot it, and what not to do with it. Then on to competition my dad would find for me. Archery exhibitions, gun shows, etc. Winning first place in Texas then on to Internationals in Indiana...

I learned a lot through that process. That I'm relatively calm with a weapon in my hands. That I can tell what kind of shot its going to be right when I let go of the bowstring, and that God really knows how to help an amateur archer go farther than she ever thought she could. I also found out He threw a bit of a fighting spirit in along with the curls and pale skin.

Last night I talked with my roomie about spiritual warfare. We fight in different ways but have some similarities. We both belong to One who is mightier than anything in this world, physical or spiritual. I was in a fight wednesday night. Well, sort of. It depends on if you think I imagined all of it...

It was around 1 or 2 am. I woke up suddenly. There was a voice singing downstairs right by the stairwell. Its voice woke me up. I just knew that whatever it was down there was sure as heck not supposed to be in this house. It wanted to come up the stairwell and was freaking out that it couldn't.

Ok, let me give you a bit of a backstory. I was raised Baptist. The Baptists I have come in contact with say we are in a spiritual battle, but they don't really go into a lot of detail when those two worlds intermingle. However, through my life and my experiences I've come to recognize that sparks tend to fly when I come across something trying to frighten or get at me. And yes, sometimes the other world wants to pick a fight...

This thing at the bottom of the stairwell won't shut the heck up. Its song is beautiful, except for the fact that my soul as well as every part of my senses are screaming that its evil. Yeah, I'm scared. Terrified, but not to the point of forgetting who I am or to Whom I belong. I completely tattled. Started immediately praying outloud to Dad about it. I have no grace or pity on anything evil. I'll fight. I might not fight well, but I'm going to fight. I fight by running. Proverbs 18:10 says, The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe. I believe that with every part of me.

I pray protection down on my house, my roomie, me and then I ask very respectfully that God kick whatever it is out of my house. And boy did He ever. Within 30 seconds I was sound asleep again. I have no idea what happened after I asked Him to rescue us. He let me go to sleep. Ah, slept like a baby. God is most assuredly a Warrior. Yes, He holds me gently, but He also kicks butts and takes names when His daughter needs protection.

Yes, there is evil in this world. Yes, it hates you. But its a moot point if you belong to Jesus. He provides protection all the time, even if you aren't aware of it. I've seen it. Just once though. My sister and I were little girls. But this blog is already too long to tell that one...

Miller Christmas Tradition

Us Millers have a tradition when it comes to our Christmas tree. My dad, one of the smartest men I've ever met, makes a little Christmas magic for his girls...

Our tree always had bits of paper on it. Usually you have to spot them cuz they are hidden among the branches. Some of them would have an A or and L. They were clues. My dad would hide our Christmas presents all over the house. We would go back and forth through the house till we figured out the clues and finally got our gift. The best thing about it was that the gifts were usually staring us in the face and we never realized it. (I remember one time a necklace hanging from one of the weights of a grandfather clock. I ran every single fingertip in all the nooks and crannies over that clock then realized it was right in front of my face the whole time!)

It was fun for all involved because we'd do it one at a time. Leanne would go, then me. We'd all giggle as we'd figure the clues out or we'd run back to Dad because one of them was too hard for us to get and he needed to help us a little more.

Its definitely something I hope to pass on to my wee ones... I plan on being the one watching my children run around the house then come back to me to show me how creative Dad had been with his Christmas treasure hunt for them...

Help...My Tongue & I Need Self-Control

I'm reading this book on boundaries. It's actually called Boundaries by the Drs. Cloud and Townsend. It's great and horrible to read at the same time. It helps me recognize where I need boundaries.

It's showing me a lot about where my insecurity lies, and how I sabotage the relationships I have in my life. I either internalize and not say one peep or I talk them to death. I live in a life of extremes. Let me give an example so this makes sense to all of us. When I'm told I'm too intimidating, I take it. Accept it wholeheartedly because I believe her and I'm scared she's right. But when Katie tells me something nice I don't believe her, and shrug her off because she can't see the ugly parts of me. See? This girl needs some boundaries!

Me and my tongue need your help. I don't have very good self-control with it. When someone asks me a question, its like the floodgates open. I'm not so sure that's a good idea. On the other hand, if you say something to me that confirms my insecurity I take it to heart. Praise will go in one ear and straight out the other because I struggle with being confident with the me I see in the mirror.

If you're reading this blog, chances are you know me. Plenty of times I've used my mouth to cover my tracks. Or distract you from giving me the help I desperately need but am too prideful to ask for. Sadly, there are relationships I've strangled to death with my tongue. And if that's you, I'm so sorry. I can completely understand if you have no more grace left for me. Please forgive me and my tongue.

So I'm asking you to hold me accountable. Whether its not asking for help when I need it, or if I pile on words to hide the fact that I'm vulnerable. Please don't let me do that. As part of the Body of Christ, I need some help growing up...

I know me the sinner a heck of a lot better than me the saint. I want to be a healthy, well-balanced child of God. And that might require me cutting out my tongue...

When It Reigns...

God seriously takes my breath away. No foolin'. I know everybody has situations in their life where God is working. I'm just so very surprised in the way He shows off. Last week a blessing in my life sent me this quote...

"Whenever God's will is in complete control, He removes all pressure. And when we deliberately choose to obey Him, He will reach to the remotest star and to the ends of the earth to assist us with all of His almighty power."
Oswald Chambers

Heck yes, that's the God I serve! Ha! He for real does that. There are a bajillion examples of Him turning circumstances in my life from "whoa. I really just stuck my foot in my mouth" to "did He just do that?"

I forget that God has grace beyond my comprehension. And that I'm blessed to be loved by people who are gracious with me. There's something to be said for grace. Its the most freeing and humbling experience ever in my opinion. And His mercies are renewed daily. Yep, DAILY!

I get a little intoxicated as He romances me. He doesn't pressure me. He gently calls me to Him. Sigh, I like gentle. I like kind. But I also like getting that proverbial smack upside the head when I need it. He loves me when He corrects me. He loves me even when I'm being unlovely. Gosh He sure does make me smile...

Betty Crocker...Or Not

A few days ago I decided that I wanted the smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies in my house. And a few in my tummy wouldn't hurt either. So I put on my gameface cuz I know I am a novice in the kitchen.

I get my weapons of choice. I pull out my baking sheet. My potholders, so I don't singe off my fingertips, a plate, a spatula, and the dough. Oh yeah, I'm not brave enough to try cookies from scratch. I figure I can totally not screw up slice and bake cookies. (Pride comes before a fall...)

I turn on the oven. I put eight of the cookies on the baking sheet. I set the timer on the microwave to 9 minutes. They recommend 10-14, but I like soft chocolate chip cookies. I put them in the oven, feeling very domestic. I get my plate ready. I'm so excited! Then I go sit on my tush. Eagerly awaiting the smell of fresh cookies to permeate every part of my living space.

Um, not so much. I come back at around eight minutes to check on them. They've not moved. They don't look like cookies at all! They look like just lumps of lard with chocolate chips in them. I don't understand this! I did everything that little package told me to do! I preheated the oven to 375. I put them an inch to an inch and a half apart from each other. They were on a baking sheet. I did every little thing!

Except for one teeny tiny, insignificant little detail. I didn't turn the oven from preheat to bake...