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...