I am growing weary of waking up before the birds do.

I have TWO big girl interviews next week. I hear they like to tear people alive, especially interns.

Just what I need.

Trust and obey.

I sometimes feel like God is a cat. A big, playful cat. I am the mouse. He has me by my tail.

I know that God doesn't work like that. My human mind can't fathom how all that He is doing right now is being worked toward His glory.

201 Massachusettes Street. After looking at about 15 houses, this was the only one I felt God speaking through. And it was nothing that special, really. Built in 1960, it had ugly pink walls and small closets. But it also had so many things going for it. A sunroom where I could set an easel and paint; it was lined with screens so that I could let the breeze in while I worked. One room upstairs that could be transformed into two rooms for two little Calvert children to run around in. (a wall seperated the one room into two rooms). A clawfoot bathtub. A HUGE yard, fenced, where a playful puppy could run, and dozens of children. So many possibilities.

I didn't bring those ideas on. In fact, when we first arrived, I wasn't impressed, and was already thinking about the charming house we'd looked at previously on Division Street. But something jarred me. Every single thing I spoke of in the previous paragraph were visions I began to have. This hadn't happened in any of the houses we'd looked at. And if it did, it was brought upon by me. But I felt as if this was different. Wesley and I would discuss the houses throughout our tours, but in this one, we were quiet. At the end of the tour, when the realtor left, he asked me what I thought. When I turned to look at him, and we locked eyes, he didn't need to hear my answer. The same thing was going on inside both of us. He was having visions as well, about our future children and the possibilities of the house.

This scared the crap out of me. Mostly because, we've been looking for a house for "right now". In two years, we expect to try and get our travelling ministry on its feet, and head out west. But this wasn't a house for right now, like the one on division. This was a house to settle in. To raise a family in. To foster children in. To paint the picture clearer, it is in walking distance from the park! We were both really scared of that. And scared of what God was doing inside of us. Because it seemed as if He was saying He wanted us to settle. But we trusted, and knew it was him. We just knew this house was the one God had for us.

We entered our information for the loan company to run a credit report. It cleared; everything seemed to be ok. We went out to look at the house again today, and noticed something that made my heart sink: "sale pending" was hung beneath the realty sign. I was devastated.

Why was a devastated? I hadn't even really liked the house as much as some others. I was devastated because I was "sure" that that was the house for us, based on what God had done in both of our hearts. We experienced the same visions; we had the same feelings. You know when you feel like you're in line with God's will, you just feel like such a better person because of it? Well, that's how I felt. I felt like I had actually heard God and He had jarred me to tell me "this is the one!" And now, I'm back at square one. I'm just another Christian who can never discern God's voice clearly. And that hurts.

My first reaction: anger, hurt, anxiety. How could God do this to me? To get my hopes up that we had actually found a place to live, and then snatch the rug from underneath us? I felt like one of the abandoned kittens in a cardboard box left on the side of the road during a rainstorm.

But then God began to really help me understand. No matter how much I sometimes DON'T like it, He IS God. And there's nothing I can do about it. He is going to do whatever He wills, and that is so frustrating to me! I think a lot of times, we create a God that isn't God at all. A God we can control, and use His name when we make big decisions (I'm not saying the house was an instance of this; I believe my visions were accurate, but not for that house).

That is a frustrating thought, isn't it? It's like that boyfriend that doesn't listen to you. You can scream and scream and scream and cry, but if he doesn't want to do what you want him to do, in the end, you're only making yourself more miserable.

I am letting go. I am trusting that God is God. What does it mean to trust that? It means that no matter what is going on in my life, that He loves me. What does it mean to love me? To look out for the BEST for me. For a toddler, to play in the street is not a danger; they haven't a care about the passing cars. But think what would happen to that toddler if their parent hadn't let them know how dangerous the road was? If the parent hadn't, so to speak, changed their path? They may think what's best for them is to play in the road, but the parent knows better. I guess what's so confusing is when you really do think you're hearing the parent's voice, but then that voice points you to a dead end. That's how I feel.

But I am letting go.

There is a reason for all this, and in hindsight, it will make sense. I will one day see those visions brought to life, however God wills them to be. I know it was Him. I know it was. But He's not through taking me on His ride. He won't be until the day I die. And as much as I hate being led, I have to view it as being led blindfolded. I have to rely and trust on the person who can see the things in front of me that I cannot. I have to trust Him.

I am not perfect because...

- I like to pretend that I am

- I cry ridiculously at sad movies and sometimes refuse to watch them again (two prime examples are 'The Green Mile' and 'Road to Perdition'. After seeing 'Road to Perdition' last night, I balled up in a fetal position and cried and cried. Pathetic.)

- When I have planned the way I think the day should go, and it doesn't go exactly the right way, I sometimes throw a temper tantrum

- I cry. A LOT. I think the most ridiculous time was over a commercial

- I am horrible at directions

- I forget birthdays often

- I never call my grandma or Aunt, or even my mom

- I am not organized in the slightest

- I vent, then think-- [Proverbs 29:11-- A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.]

- I have to look up verses on a keyword Bible search because I can count the memory verses I know on one hand

- I sometimes cuss when I'm mad

- My room is always a wreck

- I gossip

- I forget to witness

- I screw up my witness daily

- I am selfish unintentionally.

- But sometimes, intentionally too. But only when I'm really mad.

- I lack self-awareness

- I am too sensitive

- I battle jealousy

- I am sometimes not content with the life God has given me

- I doubt God when things get rough




[Romans 2:3]

Why I'm not Baptist.

There are many reasons why I'm not Baptist. The most frequent, neutral one I like to use is that "I don't like to segregate myself into a certain denomination because Jesus didn't." But today, I was reminded of one more reason.

It is utterly ridiculous that when you ask for a place for your reception (a.k.a. a Baptist fellowship hall) they immediatly hit you with what you can't do. Yes, you're approved, but only if you don't do these things:

-smoke
-drink
-dance
-play rap music

This dancing I believe includes the first dance. I intend to write a letter to whoever I need to at the church. In it, I will say:

There is no need to worry about what the dancing will lead to. You believe that dancing is a sin, one that leads to nothing but debauchery. I will let it slide that you seem to forget the passage of 2 Samuel 6:14, in which "David danced before the Lord with all his might." And nevermind the fact that in Wesley and I dancing our first dance as a married couple further symbolizes the covenant that God Himself has established, and in itself, is simply an act of worship to Our Father, who brought us together in the first place. Would it help that the song we are dancing to has the word "God" in its title?

I will give you one thing. Our dancing will lead to something more. Something much more. It will cause us to do crazy things when we get alone with eachother. It will lead us to places that were formerly unacceptable.

Yes...us dancing will lead to...sex. Lots of sex.

Sincerely,
the future Ashley and Wesley Calvert

Baptists need to learn that certain beliefs have got to go. Certain doctrinal things that don't mean crap. Certain things that were placed due to peoples' personal preferences, not due to any scripture of any kind.

They are losing their influence to a whole generation, simply because they refuse to become culturally sensitive. They want to stick themselves in their independent fundamental peg and wait. Become stagnant in their self-righteousness.

This is about more than being denied a first dance as a married couple. It's about religious Pharisees waking up and realizing they are doing NOTHING to further the kingdom of Christ. Their doctrine has become their ten commandments. And it's absolutely ridiculous.

I think it's particularly RASCIST (yes, I said it) to say that rap music cannot be played. Um, is there no such thing as Christian rap? Are they so ignorant that they can't understand that? That no black person can actually serve Christ whole-heartedly through the gifts God instilled in him/her?

And no, I wasn't planning on playing rap music at my reception.

But what about those who aren't Christians, who are simply looking for a place to have their wedding reception. They have looked everywhere in their town, but the church reception halls are the only things available. They decide to look at a Baptist church first. Do you really think that church is going to provide an opportunity for witness by allowing the couple to have their reception at the church? Of course not. They're going to slap a bunch of rules and regulations on them that are utterly ignorant, especially in the 21st century.

When things like this come into play, I believe it's the image of the church that is trying to be upheld, not God's teachings. They want their church to look spotless, while their congregation has enough grime to spot it all up. It's all about faces; the masquerade of hypocrisy.


We need to wake up and get out of our bubbles. We are dying inside of them, and people are going to hell because of them. Because we stay inside our bubbles, with OUR rules and OUR regulations, and we don't let anyone in that doesn't uphold those standards. And that is just sad.

Deut. 32:4. Look it up.

I cannot say I will never doubt again; I am a filthy human who panics often. But what I can say is no matter how much I doubt or worry, God will always be faithful. I truly know that. All in His timing, which I have to wait for.

It's so late to praise Him now. I don't want to be one of those people that worships and serves God when things are going good. I was halfway serving when things were going bad. But I want to serve 110% no matter the circumstances.

Pray that I will be able to do that.

He is faithful. Ever so faithful.

Questionings...

I am currently fighting through sickness and sick insomnia. I am half-way better; no stomach pains, faint headache...but I feel I have to get out what's happened to me (us) lately. It's overflowing; so many things to say, so many things to think about. I guess explaining how I got here might help.

Stomach virus. I didn't know I had it until I woke up with a faint pain in my stomach. At my sister's house, I searched around in the refrigerator trying to find some Pepto. With luck, I did. Then I crawled into Elijah's ninja turtle-clothed bed with Wesley, and asked him to pray over me.

We had just come from hearing a sermon that you should expand your prayers. The preacher challenged that it was one thing to pray for the rent to be paid every month; it was quite another thing to pray for your own house. I understand what he meant; my preacher is not a prosperity preacher. He is modest and down to earth. I understood it all. And I needed to hear it. After praying for finances and receiving a ticket along with $500 removed from my savings due to a car wreck, my faith was almost nonexistant. I knew God wanted me to hear that.

Wesley prayed over me, laying hands on both my head and stomach. Nothing happened. I didn't exactly expect it to. I have been doubled over on the bathroom floor many times before, wretching from the cursed pms pain that comes every three to four months or so (some times painless, but every 3-4 months, excruciating...in cycles, it's odd) and He never removed it. In moments where I wanted to die, He didn't remove it. I have learned to accept it. I mean, if you look at it as the glass half full, He did, eventually but I fight against the pessimist inside of me.
(hmm...He healed me in about the amount of time it would take for my Aleve to kick in after I took it)
Anyway, I knew I probably wouldn't get better. I knew whatever it was would have to run its course, and there was nothing we or God could do about it. I say that quite lightly. But looking at Wesley's face...I mean, it was really just frustrating to me. He was so dissapointed. He hated seeing me in so much pain. I wanted to be healed for the sake of him. I spent the next fews hours in the bathroom, puking up everything I had and didn't have inside of me. I saw his faith die a little each time he saw my watery eyes come up from the toilet. And my heart broke.

We had planned a lot of things. I woke up New Years Eve, sick and weak. Wesley was going to play basketball with Jason and a bunch of the youth that day. He was so excited about it. We had planned to go to a costume party at the church that night to ring in the new year. The next night we were going to ride fourwheelers under the stars and over the land that Dusty grew up on, with all of my closest friends. It was going to be a truly perfect weekend. Instead, we left that day to travel back down to the coast and Wesley took me to the doctor. I had blood drawn, and an excruciating shot was placed in my hip that burned for minutes throughout my veins and has still left part of my hip numb. Then, I slept. I slept a lot. And he stayed by me. The whole time. I kept telling him he might want to get away, for fear of him getting sick. He looked me in the eyes, and he said, with ultimate assurance "I'm not gonna get sick baby."

But he did get sick. He's still sick. He's asleep, fetal-positioned, feet from me as I type this. He's miserable. We took him to the doctor, but after having his blood drawn, he went into shock. He's never been good with needles. He shook all over, and after recovering from that 20 minutes later, he was in no shape to take the shot that would help the nausea. So, because for whatever reason, God created him scared of needles, he could not get what would help him. There was nothing else to be done.

I laid hands on him several times today, in ultimate faith. I know he did the same for me. But we question. We question in times like these. And then I think further. I think deeper.

How do you explain to a child that God decided not to heal their mother who is dying of cancer? What if that child prayed every day for their mother, prayed until they couldn't breathe, asked God to take their life instead...but God didn't?

How do you tell a newlywed just days after the wedding that his wife was killed in a horrible car accident coming home from the store to pick up his favorite ice cream, just months after they had both accepted Christ?


The answer pastors like to give is that we are created to live in a fallen world. Therefore, this world is not a paradise. God doesn't enjoy watching you suffer. God didn't want it to be like this. But we give two conflicting messages.

We say God is all powerful, but then we say He cannot do anything to change things in this world. That He doesn't like it, but sometimes, He does nothing to change it. Aren't supernatural occurences all about breaking the laws of the natural? There are accounts of that in every faith that believes in God. So, why can't God do that?

Well, God does. There are those that go to the clinic with a diagnosis of 6 months to live. People lay hands on them, they are prayed over, they go back, and the diagnosis was wrong. So, is it about those whose prayers are the best? How do we explain different results from the same effect? If a pentecostal prayer group prays over a person with cancer and they are healed, and a person of the identical diagnosis are prayed over by a baptist church and they are not cured, does it become a denominational war? Is there one group that prays right, that prays better than the other? I've heard it that way sometimes.


All I know is in times when my fiance' looks me in the eyes in such utter confusion, and feels so completely helpess...when my fiance' throws himself upon that altar publicly for the first time in God knows when, and has a supernatural encounter with God, and steps up from that altar a changed person, fully confident of what God can do, even more than what he had been before...

when my fiance' looks at me as I writhe in pain after laying hands on me, after giving everything he has into a prayer for God to hear, and when I look at him, after praying several times in one day that he would be healed, that God would have mercy....and NOTHING happens...




Yes, I do question. I certainly do.

Highway 49

The ashes of her youth
floated like prayers across the campus.
She was driving home Saturday when the truck hit her.
The last thing she saw—-an 18 wheeler, t-boned, against the driver's side.
Her scripture cards scattered across the highway
recitations that once occupied her mind--
Psalms in one lane, Proverbs in the other.
She was flown through the ring of glass
and collided with the greedy pavement;
her hair framing her forehead like a bloodthirsty halo.
The wind screamed that night
and the stars weeped in silence
as a bold and willing future was laid to rest.

[This was a class favorite of my final project. Hm. I would've picked a different one.]