My heart froze as every light on my dashboard flashed on and off, Christmas-style. Which would have been fascinating, had it been Christmas, and had I not been driving 65 mph down I-80. "DAD EVERYTHING IS FLASHING. IT'S FLASHING AND I'M DRIVING 65 MILES PER HOUR." Dad told me everything would be fine, I just needed to make it home. Yes, okay. I can make it home with a Christmas light show. It will be fine. It wasn't fine. Five minutes later my car refused to go any further and I found myself on the shoulder (which was barely a shoulder as the mountains of snow took up most of the shoulder space) of the interstate, under an overpass, as semis and SUVs sped past me, ON A FRIDAY (car problems are not meant for Fridays!), shaking my car and throwing me into a full-blown emotional meltdown. The last time I was so terrified was probably when I was 7 years old, trying to fall asleep after watching scary Lifetime movies with my mom. It is a scary thing to be com...
No name Just "Samaritan woman" Approached by a well by an odd man At an odd time: no one is supposed to be here right now, right now, when her shame forced her to draw water alone But shame was no match for the Living Water that baptized the isolated whore, raised her into prophetess, evangelist, beloved. "our Father Jacob," she said, but did she see? Jacob's wife was found at the well, and Isaac's too. Two matriarchs, fountain-heads of descendents, carriers of promise, approached the well and left betrothed and grafted into a covenant. Those women came and offered water, but you came and received it. Do you see, nameless Samaritan woman? You have left the well just as your mothers did: betrothed, dignified, grafted in, chosen. thirst quenched. A new mother to the many who believed your testimony A new matriarch for a new covenant. A new Bride to God himself.
I started this earlier today and am just finishing it now. So if you’re wondering why the “sun is beaming” at 11:30 pm at night, that’s why. The sun is beaming, the snow is melting, and I am waiting. Waiting for my coffee jitters to wear off, waiting for my toes to warm up (never happens), and…I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get here. Woah. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have a boyfriend. And I wish there were a more mature word for a 22 year-old woman than the prepubescent and immature connotations that go along with the term “boyfriend,” but I can’t think of any. So boyfriend it is. For those of you who aren’t on Facebook, or didn’t see it, or creep on my blog and have never even met me, his name is Jon. He’s cool. He’s wonderful. He loves Jesus and really follows Him. I’m lucky (Christians can’t say lucky. I’m blessed). I just thought I’d throw that out there. Yes I realize this came out of nowhere for most of you. If you want to hear the story, I would love to tell ...
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