Thursday, November 20, 2008

soft hearts, hard feet


Last night at the Alpha study our church is doing, I learned about a woman (British-born) who has an amazing ministry in China. At about age 20 she went into one of the largest and worst of the Hong Kong slums to work among the drug addicts and prostitutes there. She's seeing Chinese people become free of all kinds of addictions as they turn to Christ. These people love her because she has a "soft heart and hard feet." Many people have "hard hearts and soft feet." I wonder what would happen if we prayed for a heart like Christ and feet that were willing to go wherever He calls us? I think He loves that kind of prayer.

Next week is Thanksgiving and I am looking for just the right Butterball to fit in my fridge. The Frantz menu really never varies: roast turkey, Cracker Barrel stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, garlic cheese grits, green beans, cranberries, deviled eggs, black olives, and sparkling cider. If that sounds somewhat dull, wait till Christmas! I'm always so thankful for an abundance of food, among other things.

On the musical front, Paul's great-uncle, a violin-maker in rural Quilicene, has just gifted him with a new violin. The wood - maple - is just beautiful and the tone is just right! He is playing a 3/4 size right now so will grow into this one soon. When he got it, he took it out of the case and promptly played "Shortnin' Bread". His teacher is trying to develop some finesse as he tends to saw across the strings with his bow like a bandsaw!! Not an attractive sound.

On the scribbling front, I'm expecting the galleys for TFD any minute (hope they come after Thanksgiving). Red River Daughter is still in a box waiting for the next edit. And, GLORY BE, I've reached page 150 or so on The Scrivener's Daughter and am really enjoying life in a military outpost. Amazon delivered on that Encyclopedia of The American Revolution and it's so good I have a hard time putting it down.

Here's a quote to remind us to look around during this fleeting season:

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.
-Emily Bronte

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