One doesn’t have to go very far before seeing dirt in the Scriptures. In the first chapter of Genesis, God separates the waters by an expanse, or firmament, and then gathers the waters under the firmament, so that dry land appears. What we’re left with is dirt and water (where the Spirit hovers): “And God saw that it was good.”

By the second chapter of Genesis, “the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature.” So human beings are basically piles of dirt infused with “the breath of life” (i.e. the Spirit of God). “Adam” literally means “of the dirt.”

God sets Adam, a pile of dirt, in a garden (a place where life springs up from dirt). This garden is on another huge pile of dirt—a mountain. We can discern that the garden is on a mountain because of our other prominent element—water (Spirit), which flows down in four rivers.Since four rivers went out from Eden, it is safe to say that Eden was elevated, and that the garden, though not at the top of the mountain, was on the mountain.

Furthermore, mountains play a significant role in the Scriptures, for they are where God meets His people. As James B. Jordan points out, “Abraham offered Isaac on Mount Moriah (Genesis 22:2); Moses received the law on Mount Sinai (Exodus 19-24); Elijah defeated Baal on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18) and received his commission renewed on Mount Sinai (1 Kings 19); Jesus preached His definitive sermon on a mount (Matthew 5), was transfigured on a mount (2 Peter 1:16-18), and gave his final great commission on a mountain (Matthew 28:18-20).”

In addition, Jerusalem is set in the Judean Mountains, Mt. Zion is God’s holy hill, the Church is a city on a hill, and St. John views the New Jerusalem coming from above while “carried… away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high.” In contrast to the Judeo-Christian faith, false religions offer “high places” to replace God’s true meeting places. In short, mountains are ladders to heaven—points where heaven and earth intersect, and God meets us.

Moreover, altars are little mountains and ladders to heaven: “Abraham’s altars were probably just pillars made up of stone and earth, but what they symbolize is set out for us in an important vision in Ezekiel 33.” Ezekiel describes a pyramid with the top part literally called, “the Mountain of God.” Throughout the Old Testament, these altars grow until they fill the whole earth. As such, the whole sacrificial system is about meeting God and communing with Him—a movement from earth to heaven—and heaven eventually overtaking earth.

In the same vein, Moses builds an altar at the foot of a mountain. This altar serves as a gateway to God. The sacrificial order set out in Leviticus 1-3. An adam brings the bloody sacrifices near, and in union with the animal goes up to God, offering the Tribute through his accepted soul (nefesh).

The Mosaic Tabernacle structure also serves as a type of heavens and earth. The Holy Place would symbolically be the midpoint of the mountain where the elders (lampstand/Aaronic priesthood) would commune with God in a meal (facebread). Only the high priest would be allowed to enter the Most Holy Place, the top of the mountain. The Temple at Mt. Moriah would have similar connotations. Mountains are about worship. Dirt is used for worshipping.

We are homo adorans – worshipping man – precisely because we are dirt. We are ladders to God. We are altars—living sacrifices. We are tabernacles, where God dwells. We are temples, and the Holy Spirit is in us. We are part of the Holy Mountain, the Sacrifice, and the one true Temple. So we are dust, and to dust we shall return…but only for a little bit.

That’s all the dirt I got for the moment.

In September, I went through some trials that left me feeling very down and very self-absorbed with my problems. As the months have passed, I’ve found that in moments, I am able to rise above the pain, and in others, I’ve succumbed to my own weakness. God continues to be gracious and I continue to wrestle with my own sin and pray for the healing of relationships.

My family has been, as always, amazing. Rick is a constant source of comfort and encouragement, and Kyrie and Antonio fill my life with joy and moments of being as carefree as I remember being as a child. Sometimes there is no better description for my children than little angels. And goodness knows they’re not really angels — their behaviour can be exhausting and infuriating — but the love and the innocence that they display from their sweet spirits really help to lift mine. It’s such a joy to be a mom, even though I have those moments when I wonder if I really am called to be a mom. Sometimes I’m just really truly not good at it. At all.

God has been kind enough to open my eyes to friendships that have always been there, waiting for me — and introduce new friends into my life. He has never abandoned me, even when I think that He has.

It’s been difficult for me to enter into the season of Lent this year. Antonio was sick on Ash Wednesday, so I wasn’t able to attend a service. Being able to hear the words “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” while the cross is drawn in ashes on my forehead by the thumb of the priest is something that is so profound to me that I can hardly articulate my feelings about it. It helps to set the tone for the entire season. I have not chosen to give up anything specifically, nor have I conscientiously added any particular disciplines. However, I do find myself returning to the Lord, and drawing closer to Him, and seeing the sickness of my own soul and the desperation with which my whole body aches for salvation.

Summer is almost over, so I will cherish every hour of sunlight as each day shortens, bask in the heat of the sun before it cools, and let my kids live in their swimsuits if they want to, before they have to be packed up and put in storage again. But I am also waiting in hopeful expection of the renewal that each new season brings to me. A change in the wind seems to be somehow rejuvenating to my soul. I look forward to chilly mornings, hot apple cider, crunchy, colorful leaves beneath my feet, and the feeling of transcendence amidst my utter powerlessness under the care of a loving God who guides each falling leaf to its resting place and blows the wind in the direction He chooses.

I look forward to watching my own children as they learn, grow, change, and become closer to the God who loves them. I look forward to continuing to be a part of their lives, and an influence on the people they will someday become. And somehow, the changing from one season to another is proof to me that time is ever moving along, and we are changing, and God is constant.

But even surrounded by our family and friends of our youth, I couldn’t shake a feeling that had been nagging me for several months. I felt like an outsider. And Rick and I had been making lots of effort in trying to be friends with the people we expected we’d naturally feel close to once we moved back to Spokane. But now I can see how in so many ways, we were seeking friendship in the wrong way. Our desire to be the loved ones, the special ones, was just focusing on the selfish elements of friendship.

I also realize now that I didn’t work hard enough to cultivate new friendships. Again, this was just because I was viewing the use of friendship in a selfish way. As long as I had the friends *I* wanted, I’d be fine. But I wasn’t focusing as much on *being* a friend. And not just being a friend to the people whose friendship I especially coveted, but to people who needed that friendship from me.

By choosing to focus so much on what friends I had, and not focusing on being a good friend to others, I ended up harming myself. I am beginning to realize that the things on earth I cling to so much are likely the things that will slip away from me.

I’ve learned a lot in the past few days. A lot has come to light, and I’m starting to sort out those things now. The biggest lesson that I’ve learned is that is does no good to fret over who likes me or who likes Rick, or who really wants to be our friends. What we are called to do is love God and others, and loving others doesn’t include sitting around all day worrying over who loves me.

I know that in God’s eyes, I am precious. I know that I am a sinner, and without His grace covering me, I am ugly. But while I dwell in Him, I am beautiful. And because of this truth, I have something to offer to others. I have friendship to give. And it is much better to view friendship as something that I can give than as something I want to get.

None of this is to say that friendship is now to me only something that I offer, and not something that I receive. I believe that as I have the attitude that I am giving of myself to others in friendship, I will also be blessed in the same way from them. In my marriage, I’ve found this to be especially true. The more I give, the more I feel that I receive in return.

There are just some things money can’t buy. I mean, yes, money is necessary for us to get by, pay the bills, buy food, have a place to live, etc. But I am most aware of my joy when I am looking at a summer sky streaked with flaming pink clouds resting above the honey-orange glow of a sunset. Or from smelling the crisp, clean night air and looking at the thousands of twinkling stars and a mellow, gleaming moon and knowing that God put it all there. My joy comes from knowing that even though we are so small, so insignificant, just…dust, we’re still loved by a God who pours out His love on us because He is love.

And it comes from the love that I impart and receive every day, to and from my husband and my children. Their kisses and smiles and words of affirmation give me the strength I need to love them back, and clean up after them, and comfort them. And Rick’s never-ending patience and loyalty helps me cope when I would have otherwise given up long ago.

But at the root of it, joy isn’t dependent on a good situation, financial or otherwise. I guess it isn’t really even dependent on beautiful sunsets or starry skies. It’s just knowing that God is love, that He loves me, and that I am here to love and serve Him for eternity. And that’s the source of my joy. Even when I’m not feeling happy, nobody can take away that joy.

Tonight, during Compline, Antonio looked at the eighth notes on the page and kept saying they looked like cars (the ones that were grouped together — I can kinda see it). I explained that it was music, so after Compline ended, he flipped through the LBW to various hymns, singing “Lord, Lord, Loooord!”

And I’m blanking on several other cute things that were said by the kiddos this evening. Maybe it’ll come to me later.

I have taken lots of pictures that haven’t made their way onto the computer yet. The heat has mostly been to blame for this, since the desktop computer is upstairs, where it is too stifling to stay for more than two minutes at a time, and the laptop doesn’t have Photoshop. And I’m pretty much helpless without my Photoshop. If tomorrow is as mild as this evening, though, I might have some new photos up and ready to share. We’ll see.

I made a cake with marshmallow fondant icing today. It was a ridiculous thing to do with a 3-year-old and 1-year-old wanting to involve themselves in the process, but it was done, not without lots of powdered sugar getting all over everything and everybody. I think everyone has reached their monthly sugar quota as well. The cake turned out just all right for a first attempt. If it had been done by someone about 15 years younger, it might be impressive. As it is, I need practice.

We watched “Enchanted” tonight as a family. I was surprised to see Antonio watching so intently, as he usually completely ignores the TV unless it’s Backyardigans or Blue’s Clues, which will keep about 1 minute of his attention. At the end of the movie, I asked Kyrie, “So, did you like it?” She answered, “No…I loved it!” And so they both continue to grow up at alarmingly fast rates.

Kids are asleep, house is half-messy, half-clean, Rick’s clothes for tomorrow are in the washer, and the fan is blowing the fresh, cool night air over to me. I’m debating between picking up The Jungle and reading from where I left off, or going to bed. I will probably regret it if I start to read, because I have a hard time stopping, especially when there are no cries or pleas coming from little people who always surround me. And then I’ll stay up too late, and pay for it in the morning. But…just one more chapter.

This kid…he wears me out. He just broke a quart-sized glass measuring container. Must go.

* It is good to know that I have friends who will listen to my whining about nothingness. Sometimes it helps clear my head and reassure me that things really will be okay, even when I’m having a bad day.

* I have often looked at my kids and been struck at how quickly they change and grow, but lately, it seems as if Kyrie is growing before my very eyes. This makes me proud and very sad at the same time. I find myself thinking back on when she was a tiny, not quite eight pound little newborn, and I didn’t know that in a flash, she would be my big girl.

* I really want to take dance classes with Rick, but we don’t know what to do about finding a babysitter. We don’t even know where to look. This is disheartening.

* The pool at Shadle Park, I believe, is now open. I’m just waiting for a nice, hot day when Rick and I and the kids can go experience it. It looks wonderfully refreshing when I glance at it as we drive by.

* It is late and I’m not in bed. This is probably a really bad idea.

* Good night.