Welcome to my ALL 4
Him blog. As a person who is fascinated by the boundless abilities the
computer has added to my life since the 80's, I'm embarrassed to say that I
didn't even understand what a blog was. I've heard about them for decades, but
outside of watching the movie Julie & Julia, they just weren’t part
of my life. Truthfully, my passion for the written word is affronted by the very word
B-L-O-G. It sounds similar to unseemly words like B-L-O-B, but it's origin is actually "web log".
I became interested in blogging when my
friend Kit emailed me the blog of an amazing lady named Tamara. I had the
pleasure of meeting Tamara at an October retreat at Kit’s lake house. When I pulled up the blog address, I actually had to check
to see if it was the same Tamara I met that weekend. Her blog was so
professional and interesting. Did I personally know a REAL blogger? I felt like
I was rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. If there was a red carpet of
blogging, I wanted to be on it! With Tamara, of course. I certainly don’t want
to forget the little people who made my meteoric rise to the top of the
blogging heap possible. I’d like to thank the Academy, Kit and Tamara for this
honor. I am now a REAL blogger! Be sure to visit Tamara’s page (http://tamaraschmitz.blogspot.com/).
This is the preface to my unfinished book which is still a dream in progress.
Have you ever doubted your faith? Perhaps you’ve suspected that you are so far over your sin quota that God’s given up on you. Do you wonder why the testimony of women who wallowed in sin for decades moves everyone to tears, while you feel confident that your pure and Godly testimony would bore everyone to death? The women you meet on these pages will answer all of these questions and more.
This is a book about good girls gone bad, bad girls gone good, and good girls gone God. It is about old women, young women, tall women and small. Women who cry when they are happy, laugh when they are sad, pouters, kidders and gossipers. It is about rich women and poor, married, never married, widowed and divorced. It is about mothers and daughters and women who are childless. It is about sex-addicts and virgins, drama queens, women who have led blessed lives and those whose lives read like a Greek tragedy.
Don’t get me wrong. You are not going to meet Saint Glenda or Sister Jana. And Virgin Ashley still suffers from self-doubt and occasional bouts of shop-o-holic syndrome. Thirteen women attended the first A.L.L. For Him gathering. Even though the only prerequisite on the invitation was that you be a surrendered Christian woman, I could see the doubt in their eyes. Am I qualified to sit in this room? Am I surrendered? What would they think if they knew I drank a glass of wine at dinner? I’m sure that everyone else was passing out tracts and feeding the poor in Over-The-Rhine this week.
Funny thing about surrendered Christian women…they are a lot like snowflakes and fingerprints. No two are alike. They are not saintly clones, just imperfect saints. If salvation were a thirties vaudeville show, you would be dragging some of the women you meet in this book off the stage with a big hook, and rushing to others to crown them with tinsel halos. Therein lies the glory of an awesome God. His Son Jesus levels the playing field, handicaps the game, settles the score. Everyone on this stage shines…because they reflect Him.
I haven’t had a bath in decades. Seriously! The last one was probably in the 80’s, but I can’t even imagine what circumstance would have driven me to sit in a tub of warm H2O while the sweat and grime of the day contaminated the once crystal clear water. The warm water is destined to cool to 24.5 degrees below body temperature, and how do you wash your hair? I certainly wouldn’t want to rinse it in that water. Give me the joy of a shower any day! It’s like bathing in a waterfall . . . with a drain of course. The water maintains perfect temp and the dirt and grime are immediately washed away.
So how did this sad story come about? I was brainwashed. I am house-sitting for a lovely family who is serving Christ in China. During the walk-through before their departure, Linda told me to be good to myself and take a luxurious bubble bath in their master bath Jacuzzi. How do you ignore the advice of a woman packing up her husband, 4 children and full-sized poodle to live on the other side of the planet?
And then there is my sister, Angie. It is a well-known fact that she is a bath-o-holic. I’ve heard rumor that she has “lounged” in that tepid, stagnant water for hours! Personally, I think it’s just an escape tactic. She has 2 dogs, a husband, 6 children, 3 grandchildren, 2 more on the way, and she watches OPK’s (other people’s kids). Who wouldn’t need to hide behind a locked door?!
The final straw that pushed me over the edge was my new son-in-law’s mother, Pam. I invited Pam over for dinner. While touring the house she went crazy over the Jacuzzi. She made it sound so dreamy with candles and a good book. Wow! Maybe I’d been missing out all these years.It’s Friday morning and I don’t have to be at work till 2:00 P.M. This is it! B-Day! I turned on the faucet and began filling the ginormous tub. Remember that word from your childhood? Ginormous, the marriage of giant and enormous, can be found in Webster’s dictionary. It’s so big that I ran out of hot water and had to add boiling water from my tea kettle. As the water level slowly rose, I added a small amount of bath gel and gathered the mandatory candles, candle-lighter, book, reading glasses, towel, washcloth, shampoo, conditioner, cell phone, and perfectly brewed cup of Passionate Peach tea. I was ready.
Whenever my friends get together, the moment invariably arrives when, as one voice, they cry, “Tell the reunion story!” I prefer to think of it as a modern day fairytale, where the hero dashes in on his trusty steed to save the day. This knight didn’t ride in on a black stallion and his armor was a golf shirt and slacks. Nevertheless, his deeds were heroic.
If you were one of the so-called ‘popular kids’ in high school, you might want to set aside this story right now. You can’t possibly understand the enormity or magnitude of the long-awaited event that was about to unfold. An event so impactful that the stars and moon would align and my very existence would finally be justified….the 15 reunion of Mt. Healthy High School, Class of 1970, Cincinnati, Ohio. This was my chance to shine. To prove to everyone that Glenda Maxine Atkins was no longer the incredibly shy, awkward, straight-A, wallflower of her painful youth. You know how some people spend their lives reliving their high school glory? Seriously, I cried when I talked about those painful years. I walked through the halls of Mt. Healthy High with eyes downcast, carrying my books close to my chest to cover-up that embarrassing development. Did I join the Spirit Club or that group of baton-twirlers in short skirts? No, I belonged to the French and Drama Clubs. I didn’t know how to dress cool, style my hair or wear makeup. Oh, how I longed to be one of the in-crowd. A cool girl that could attract the attention of a football player like Mike Marshall. I almost swooned when Mike butted in front of me in the lunch line one day. He was so handsome that I felt honored that a celebrity like him stole my place in line. Sadly, THAT was the highlight of my high school saga.
Now it is 1985 and everything has changed. I am a successful investment broker, wife and mother of two wonderful children. I had recently moved back to Cincinnati after four fun and sun-filled years in San Diego. I was one of those California girls everyone was wishing for! I was tan, I knew how to dress, I worked out, heck, I even took the EST training. I drove a sports car and lived in a great house. The ugly duckling had finally turned into an enlightened and beautiful swan.
