tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62011662011-11-25T18:27:50.574-06:00by the grace of God, I am what I amAbby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.comBlogger871100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-44808664496213284322011-10-27T06:23:00.002-05:002011-10-27T06:24:49.719-05:00

I’m not sure how to live in a world where kindness is a real possibility. Where gentle things can be protected, nurtured and grown. Where hardness can soften. I’m not sure how to live in a world where winds pick up flags and curly hair, where little girls walk into coffee shops in leotards, and old ladies wear overalls. Where bread rises with yeast and warmth, where people extend friendship and

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-22859087026643876272011-10-17T20:07:00.000-05:002011-10-17T20:07:07.444-05:00

Tonight I watched the sun bow for the day. "I've finished a day," she said. "I rose this morning and bid the moon good day and goodbye. I stayed high at noon and came back for a brief magic hour after hiding underneath a cloud blanket."  I watched her bow from a cemetery where I felt small and insignificant and modestly grateful. She played her part. Have I played mine?

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-5335695287556712202011-10-08T19:13:00.004-05:002011-10-10T08:32:03.514-05:00

My boss, who will not like it one bit that I called him my boss, encouraged me to blog about things I am learning at school. I think this is a very good idea, but I am learning so much that the challenge overwhelms me. Should I tell you about Edward II or Alexander Hamilton? Shall we talk about commas, early American poetry, Transcendentalism? Or the pope! And really what he meant was pedagogy.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-78228792177274114192011-09-25T20:24:00.004-05:002011-09-26T18:40:19.767-05:00

I work six days a week. From sunrise to sunset six days a week I teach, I grade, I plan and I assess. I pray each morning that God will help me to see the material clearly and to steward well the frighteningly precious students he has given me to teach. And I work as hard as I know how while still trying to be present for my neighbors. But to my amazement God doesn't want us to work seven days.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-43783179582615708662011-09-17T09:03:00.001-05:002011-09-17T09:18:19.743-05:00

I woke today with hope. And it is not because I have done a good job, or because my apartment is clean, or because things are right. Even as I type a determined and possibly caffeinated fly is having a conniption fit around my head.  And furthermore, I've been praying through a difficult transition I'll have to make soon. And I have a hole in my sweater. Things are not perfect. I woke today

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-25395537933511417082011-08-30T21:26:00.003-05:002011-08-30T21:32:17.634-05:00

What Not to do When Teaching. 1) Do NOT write an acrostic to help students memorize the thirteen colonies if you do not have in your hand the list of the actual thirteen colonies. I thought, "I'm the teacher. I know this." I wrote, "Vicious Mice Navigate Mazes..." You get the idea. I then wrote, "Virginia, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine..." After I had finished writing them all, and still

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-37683085946718553482011-08-25T22:48:00.002-05:002011-08-26T15:00:00.824-05:00

My neighbor, with peach fuzz hair (growing back slowly after chemotherapy), and framed pictures of Obama all over her house. She loves President Obama, and sent him a birthday card from our apartment complex. I signed it gladly. Right now the floor of my apartment is shaking because she is playing hip hop with a ridiculous base. She is about seventy, and frequently she turns on base heavy rap at

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-81161310210903394002011-08-25T22:25:00.000-05:002011-08-25T22:25:00.323-05:00

My life is small now. I am no longer swallowing oceans and climbing up trees and in and out of planes. I walk through the cemetery. I put a pot of coffee on. I read. I look into the eyes of students and talk to them about the Transatlantic Slave Trade. I talk to them about basketball and I talk to them about grammar. They look at me and write down things that I say. All of the sudden I can't

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-53864013244294158222011-08-22T11:02:00.002-05:002011-08-22T18:00:36.883-05:00

By divine providence, I came into possession of an over-sized cashmere sweater with a giant Saint Bernard head on the front. It came to me during a fairly reflective, transitional time of life and I wore it for about a week continuously when I first inherited it. I wore it with jeans, shorts, tights, dresses. I would usually start the day in something relatively put together, make it to about

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-29498852650350600142011-08-18T22:06:00.003-05:002011-08-18T22:13:16.944-05:00

I have wanted to write for so long. I have had stories, lessons, exultations building up in me for months and months, but have sat with them. Today I told my roommate about it. About having experiences that are so precious they shake me, and being torn between wanting to share them and fearing exploiting them. I want to write it all, to tap my fingers and say "THIS, This is what I see." But isn't

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-27681412657031467972011-02-19T09:58:00.006-06:002011-08-19T09:02:04.819-05:00

I wrote this on a plane December 11, 2010, on my way to visit my beautiful friends Jess and Stew. It is old, but I wanted to share it. @font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page:

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-3461177858161729912011-01-25T10:46:00.003-06:002011-01-25T10:57:44.125-06:00

I heard a song that sounds like snowNotes drifted lightly to and fro.Filling holes and making cleanAt once opaque and glistening.My toes are cold beside the fire.I sent them out in weather dire.They grabbed the cold and brought it inAnd will not let it go again.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-75219733901408382182011-01-19T08:14:00.005-06:002011-01-19T10:44:19.999-06:00

The storm came, and for some reason I feel as though I never believed in snow flakes. I blinked, startled when one found her home on the window where I stood and watched. I’ve been to Colorado many times... The first five years of my life we had snow every year... I must have known that it didn’t always descend in tiny sleet-ish pelts... So I don’t know why I feel so surprised now, that for the

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-52939685386322250412011-01-11T14:18:00.001-06:002011-01-11T14:24:10.400-06:00

Sitting still at a familiar desk, I stare out the window where I watched the lilies blossom in the summer, the tree above flame gold and red in the fall, and where now the river has iced, locking into place her lumps and ripples. I have yet to see my heron. The lilies have shuddered away and the tree has taken on a solemn height, no longer rustling in the wind, but quiet as winter howls

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-38842258867677241632010-11-03T11:20:00.003-05:002010-11-03T11:23:51.183-05:00

@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } I wrote this while daydreaming a couple of years ago, and thought now would be as good as time as any to throw out a theory

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-71907047646271576652010-10-30T04:11:00.002-05:002010-10-30T06:26:49.484-05:00

This past week I was visited by my first Indian Summer, which, thank you wikipedia, is “a meteorological phenomenon that occurs in autumn, in the Northern Hemisphere. It is characterized by a period of sunny, warm weather, after the leaves have turned following an onset of frost, but before the first snowfall.”After weeks of chill, a few summer days came up to visit us, and we soaked up the

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-56280542840721585812010-10-27T22:14:00.005-05:002010-10-28T08:27:20.486-05:00

@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } This summer I met a lovely African-American woman in the home of a mutual friend. We shared a bit of our backgrounds.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-61850647544003289192010-10-22T11:09:00.004-05:002010-10-22T13:16:00.451-05:00

I need the world to stop, to pause so that my heart can catch up. I find myself today left in the dust. I am standing still and this heart warming, breath stealing world is swirling around me. All I can do is watch things pass in wonder, close my eyes when it is to much to take in, and laugh and cry in exuberance. Christ said, “Peace be with you,” and this helps.Hanneke Cassel, a folk fiddle

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-8440669156416546562010-10-13T09:31:00.004-05:002010-10-13T10:57:29.053-05:00

@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } I drink my third cup of coffee, brought to me by Joe and Sue who love me, with the golden October sky lighting the

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-55365412915478662622010-10-04T18:42:00.008-05:002010-10-04T21:48:47.561-05:00

@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; } I was planning on posting something thoughtful, but I just looked up from my computer to see Joe, one of the workers here

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-33080251905631300192010-09-23T23:56:00.005-05:002010-09-24T21:50:35.788-05:00

Thoreau’s home (and Emerson’s, I think, and most definitely Louisa May Alcott’s) welcomed me with a hug and a twinkle. With white steeples and children in polo shirts with gel in their hair. With school buses and roundabouts and mobiles made of bowls and cups and plates and forks and spoons, and a store called French Lessons that is for lingerie and perfume. With mermaid ornaments, seashell

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-21432749360042482812010-09-22T09:46:00.009-05:002010-09-23T19:09:27.175-05:00

Fall is kissing her New England growing things already, and I am paying the strictest attention. Most of the time fall seems to grow from the inside out on the leaves. It starts with a yellowish orangey spot on the inside of the leaf, and then grows until it takes over completely, like a stone causing a ripple in the water, or like a crater. Or like those purple ring-rocks they sell in gas

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-12045735028776815002010-09-15T08:35:00.006-05:002010-09-15T11:18:27.187-05:00

Today is my study day. That means that this morning, after breakfast I can spend hours quietly in books. Right now I am studying to the biblical view of the bodily resurrection. I’m reading N.T. Wright’s book, “Surprised by Hope” and learning about the loss of the doctrine of our bodily resurrection, and the influence that has had on the way we live now. Normally I don’t post my every

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-21961007925420292702010-09-10T12:29:00.007-05:002010-09-10T21:37:08.463-05:00

This, in case you didn't know, is my mother. She is the one on the right, kissing the shoulder of my baby sister Keila. It shows more of her character than her physical features. My mother loves her daughters. This was a hard day for Keila, and she was there there to love her.Well, I can't write the funny story as promised, and the lesson has been learned: don't say you'll write something

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-1530314898666729042010-09-09T18:25:00.004-05:002010-09-10T03:46:53.712-05:00

Hello all. This is my home now, for the next few threeish months. (It's much more like two, but I'm rounding up.) I am just inside the window just to the right of the door as I write this. If you look really close, you can see me waving at you. ;) This week, Mary and I drove from Dallas to Boston. We took four days to make the trip so that we could stop everywhere we thought there was something

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-69509713556989855242010-09-04T22:40:00.002-05:002010-09-04T22:55:55.607-05:00

It started this at six this morning, with me bouncing back and forth between making quiche, packing for three months, and cleaning my bathroom. Today my mother, sister and I hosted the wedding shower for the future Sra. Sanchez. We had mimosas, coffee cake, parfaits, and quiche. We homemade them all and are very proud of ourselves. I feared awkward moments, as I usually do when hosting such

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-59833234480496082942010-08-20T10:50:00.007-05:002010-08-24T22:15:27.216-05:00

I have so much to say. In this tiny, incompetent, naive, and yet still arrogant mind are churning so many ideas, songs, inspirations, friends with soft words and perfect sized coffee mugs, and I would like to tell you about all of them.I must write, even if it will not be enough. Ann Lammott says start small, so that you can write at all, and hopefully write well. I will start by telling you that

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-7208932193468121382010-06-12T10:32:00.002-05:002010-08-04T21:19:01.493-05:00

Lost in the Family Tree (also lost in Missouri)While driving from Arkansas to Kansas Ali took Danny and I on a tour of the family tree so that we might be better acquainted with Donna’s ex husbands daughters aunts parakeet. Somewhere along the way, while trying to regurgitate names, we missed our exit and traveled an hour out of our way. This is what happens when you use the iphone to research

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-2119170664672234442010-06-10T15:31:00.003-05:002010-08-04T21:24:39.938-05:00

Context: My brother in law, Danny, my sister Ali and I left yesterday to see his family for two days, and will continue on tomorrow for the Lorenc family reunion. I think there should be plenty to write about. Here's some from yesterday:Crumb free since 93I’m driving to Arkansas right now. Well, I’m riding, in the backseat behind my sister and brother-in-law, with whom I have the honor of

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-40205917934541646192010-06-08T13:34:00.004-05:002010-06-08T13:54:36.563-05:00

You know those days when you get up at 5:15 am to go to the magistrate court to ask them to kindly revoke the warrant they issued for your arrest? The warrant that you got because though you dutifully filled out and sent in the information on the back of the ticket (which you got for not so dutifully ignoring a stop sign), your neglected to send a few key items? (You might think a warrant is a

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-26541893119059375672010-05-22T14:16:00.004-05:002010-05-24T15:08:18.223-05:00

I have margin in my life now. For the first time in almost twelve months I have margin. Room to wiggle, though it feels more like I've been swimming. Like when you plunge underwater for a silent tea party, and all of the sudden the ruckus from above is hushed, and you are left with your floating hair and your clear teacup. When I was a child I won contests for staying under the water longest

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-34169578452001771842010-04-25T22:49:00.006-05:002010-04-25T22:59:03.709-05:00

but without the least bit of creativity or capitalization or punctuation due to the fact that my mind is swimming with redaction criticism and my eyes are blurry because I read (looked at) too many pages today... and yesterday... and for three years...and all this to say... today i finished my coursework for DTS. i thought that was blog worthy.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-26283623037148387692010-04-15T15:43:00.001-05:002010-04-15T16:14:58.961-05:00

June turned purple today. I was typing it after May after April and suddenly it turned purple and flowery, like a willow tree or a pompom flower but flowy and coming from my heart and I knew that when I heard “This too shall pass” in February, He meant it. And now I am watching in teary eyed amazement as it passes. As I type the last word and read the last pages and rush for the last time and

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-36011327198484761472010-03-17T21:26:00.002-05:002010-03-17T21:51:45.799-05:00

But I'm not. And perhaps it's better because there are some things I want to show you that can't be photographed. The woman on the subway would have considered it an imposition if I had drawn close to her and snapped the lines on her face, the vacant, fixed look on her eyes, the way her shoulders pulled forward though she was carrying nothing material. I would have stolen something from her, and

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-71582179936725070222010-03-13T17:05:00.003-06:002010-03-13T17:08:27.728-06:00

Today was a day like any other. I rocked, I boomed, I carried the world forward. I moved and swayed and towered and held within me bustling cold business. It rained, and they went out anyway. They hid beneath my awnings, yelled when cabs drove by and muddied their boots. But I stood like a rock, foundations deep, not minding at all about the aching, moaning, screeching, singing, of a few. There

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-1871194207023511822010-03-06T23:39:00.005-06:002010-03-07T00:33:08.448-06:00

Today has been so shimmery I think I should write it. At the same time I fear that writing now, 17 minutes before midnight, may somehow take away from it. I'm not sure I've enough skill to write shimmer, and I'm so tired and filled up that my bed wants to wrap me up and pull me underneath at once. Still, I'll try. My roommate and I woke up, emptied our desks and hauled them to a West Dallas

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-47750618024526423462010-02-08T20:36:00.007-06:002010-02-13T19:29:21.821-06:00

i'll tell you one thing. there are so many girls with lovely hats and boys with scruffy beards and beat up jackets banging on drums, and singing to make something beautiful happen. and there are so many fields that haven't been mowed, and yellow dogs catching frisbees. and then there are the cowboys, who have really got it figured out. and they lean over their fences and look at you when you pass

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-68786772422807687972010-02-06T22:15:00.005-06:002010-02-13T19:33:06.789-06:00

When I live in survival mode, I coast on top of my days, unable to really dig my heels in. Unable to stop, to soak, to lift, to stretch out a bit. I do NOT like to live in survival mode. I think I'd rather eat chalk than chase my day like the cans tied to the back of a wedding getaway car. Those sad cans. Eyes brimming, heart swimming love just a few meters ahead, coasting smooth, and they just

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-50823621582258772542010-01-07T14:46:00.003-06:002010-01-07T15:03:33.707-06:00

Context: 1) I work as a receptionist at an AMAZING school. 2)Berbery is a very strong Ethiopian spice comparable to Turmenic, or Curry.I had reached my capacity for weird at 1:15. It was little things, really. A fourth grader called the front desk to inform me that he was terribly sorry but would not be coming to school today. A certain high ranking government official came to the school, I

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-90841439283808993752009-12-01T18:08:00.006-06:002010-05-13T08:55:15.453-05:00

Warning: this is kind of gross. It started about a month ago, when my brother-in-law leaned forward across my parent’s kitchen island with a furrowed eyebrow concentrating his stare toward the left side of my face and said, “What the…?” He thereby sent me into a three second eternity in which I imagined all the things that could be wrong with my face, including a newly formed giant birthmark in

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-77695038241687473542009-11-10T19:39:00.002-06:002009-11-10T19:50:01.284-06:00

Ann Lammott advises writers to start small when they feel overwhelmed by the white page before them. Specifically, she suggests writing about childhood school lunches. I want to write about SO MANY THINGS, big and small and scary and hairy (actually just one thing hairy, my apartment floor, because we can’t afford a flipping vacuum cleaner), and bursting with passion, but I’m too overwhelmed.So I

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-75608626654038011252009-10-12T20:06:00.006-05:002009-10-13T17:32:01.877-05:00

Today was the death day of my twenty fifth year. It dies officially tonight at twelve. Tomorrow, when people ask me, I'll answer, twenty-five. I celebrated this death by waking up slowly and having four cups of coffee with my mother, and then by meeting my beloved sister Ali for antique shopping, walking, talking, and of course, crying in an old historic downtown square. My father and

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-19214251816327197842009-10-10T22:28:00.003-05:002009-10-12T01:50:44.401-05:00

Today was a day of celebrations. I celebrated with some of my very good girlfriends. We celebrated knowing each other, and being alive, and fall and pumpkins and good books and truth. We celebrated by walking at the lake, and then by a picnic at the arboretum. We got cold, so we left after a few hours and went to sit by the fire in my apartment, where we celebrated by talking and laughing and

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-6112988620004178122009-10-06T19:23:00.003-05:002009-10-07T22:15:51.586-05:00

I wrap myself up in a café chairAnd hide behind my coffee cup and hair.Then stand up gracefully inside my mind.(Of course you’ll think I’m sitting all the time).I read over his shoulder, word for word.I laugh at whispers she thinks no one heard.I stare across and drink in love from eyesNot meant for me-- I find this most unwise.I listen to your heart and to your feet.I see her drum her hands to

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-30917081478942583742009-10-05T21:48:00.008-05:002009-10-13T22:08:58.516-05:00

Have I thought about all the things i need to think about today? I thought about plane tickets, and about hippies with low pony tails, and about cuticle cream, and how I'd like to meet the inventor of cuticle cream. Not because I need some (though I do). Just because I bet he has an interesting story. A story about a wife with bad cuticles. And he told her they were bad and she did not appreciate

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-70448899201625881522009-10-01T08:42:00.002-05:002009-10-01T08:47:02.269-05:00

…woke up at 4:56, four minutes before I was supposed to leave to take my roommate to the airport. I jumped off my bed into some clothes, splashed something that I hope was soap onto my face, grabbed everything I could think of for my day, and ran out the door with her at 5:03.…decided to put on loose powder in a traffic jam. I’ve had some pretty bad ideas, and this one just saddled right up to

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-77611930088938402312009-09-24T15:20:00.001-05:002009-09-24T15:20:48.161-05:00

Today…I read about Jesus and the masses. He was tired and frustrated, yet filled with compassion for the people who sought him. I am tired today, and mildly frustrated, and thankful that Christ in me can fill me with compassion for those who come across my path.I drove one exit too far to go to work so that I could turn around and drive into the sunrise for a bit, and the rings of my eyes turned

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-66451836393708947552009-09-19T16:08:00.002-05:002009-09-19T16:18:12.851-05:00

I think I've figured it out. The new winds that I'm breathing have come from far away, in the Rocky Mountains and perhaps even the Himalaya's, and they smell like newness and depth and I can't help but feel I should follow them. Every fall I feel that if I knelt down and then jumped high enough I'd simply fly away. Every fall I cry for beauty and changing leaves, and I live in DALLAS. It's

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-25006173698314689172009-09-16T11:07:00.002-05:002009-09-16T11:13:03.047-05:00

The recent gray skies and fall breeze have been sending nostalgic whispers to tease me. I say tease because I can’t catch them. One will jump up out of nowhere, kiss me, and I’ll sit, frozen, trying to hold on to the memory, the feeling, the scent or longing from the past. It’s been happening all the time, and without warning. Today my banana tasted like the ones I used to eat in my cheerios. I

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-39952225810782467392009-09-09T14:20:00.000-05:002009-09-09T14:22:19.771-05:00

This morning a slightly chubby boy walked in twenty minutes late to school. I handed him a tardy and asked how he was. He answered, “I found two locusts at my dad’s house. They’re dead.” We looked at each other in mutual pensive respect for the dead locusts, and he went on his way.I wonder what would happen if adults started answering the question, “How are you?” with a little more spunk?

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-14815592232570307862009-09-03T14:53:00.001-05:002009-09-03T14:56:24.885-05:00

When I haven’t written for a long time, it’s difficult to know where to start. Do I start in theory land, in what God is teaching me, rolling out, revealing about his world and himself? Or do I start in practical land and tell you stories? Even now as I write, I haven’t decided.I’ll start with the frame, and then paint the picture. I came back from Ethiopia and ran, into a new apartment, a new

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-80281981532095418162009-07-18T06:45:00.000-05:002009-07-18T06:46:29.305-05:00

I am sitting in my living room on a blessed afternoon off, enjoying my teammates, Matt and Charissa. We are working on our updates, and struggling together to describe what we have been doing here. To describe a vision trip in which I for one, have felt like the world has been swirling around me for most of the past month. By God’s grace, our feet have remained firmly planted in His word, and in

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-43821135307894914222009-06-13T15:11:00.002-05:002009-06-13T15:26:21.259-05:00

Pauline married John last night, on a lovely Georgia plantation. We sat outside in white wooden chairs and they held hands under the gazebo. The ceremony was small and perfect, though a bit difficult to hear because of the rolling thunder. Nervous guests would jerk their heads up every few moments just to check to see if the rain had started yet. Sure enough, in between the rings and the kiss,

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-91676354875252655412009-06-12T13:42:00.003-05:002009-06-12T13:51:05.999-05:00

I was scheduled to leave yesterday (Wednesday) for a wedding in Atlanta for three days and leave straight from there to Ethiopia. The flight was delayed three hours due to weather, so at 6:30pm, when I would have been checking in, I found myself instead huddled in a restaurant with my mom, my dad, and my little sister, with no power, watching the violent winds of a nearby tornado tear through our

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-62342451590519884632009-05-18T20:59:00.004-05:002009-06-02T16:24:31.901-05:00

For about ten days straight, I turned page after page, typed paper after paper, turning one in after another, without stopping much to breath. Then, at noon on Friday, I clicked "send" on my last paper and stumbled out of the library, squinting at the foreign sun. The next few days I hoped to rest and slow down, but it was as though I had slammed on the brakes of my life but my body and mind kept

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-49403451800512259152009-05-01T21:51:00.002-05:002009-05-01T21:56:50.937-05:00

My newsletter invited you to come read my blog, and then I haven't written anything since February (or January?) So this is me, on three hours of sleep in the last couple of days, guilt blogging.I guilt blog from a lovely well lit house with wood floors and classical music playing over the surround sound. I just finished a paper on a beautiful book, and my eyes are so tired that I am literally

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-79301446397406928782009-01-30T17:43:00.005-06:002009-01-30T20:05:28.482-06:00

I've written more of late. Hope you enjoy.Real HopeMyself-- not good. (Believe me, dear, I would)My words, not true (Yes true but not complete)Wanting to live (I see only defeat).Appalled at sin (No hope comes from within)Crave purity (Corruption eats away)Waking to shudder (Shiver in dismay). I lift my eyes (They do not lightly rise)To Hope above (not to abstract ideal)But Jesus’ face (He-

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-43951017937081002392009-01-14T04:38:00.005-06:002009-01-14T08:27:15.633-06:00

I cannot sleep. Sometime after closing my eyes last night someone reached down my mouth and into my heart and ever so slowly exchanged it for a pretzel. Eventually the pretzel, fully formed and beating, woke me up and now it is 4:44 a.m. and I cannot sleep.The word anxious fails to pin it exactly. Anticipatory, maybe? Excited? The problem is, I don't know what about.Many of you don't know,

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-74373060045069624352008-11-19T20:41:00.001-06:002008-11-19T20:43:13.843-06:00

I am in Alabama right now. I am in Elkmont, Alabama, sitting on a velvetish couch next to a marble statue of a horse and a glass case full of ethnically diverse Santa Clauses. My favorite is the Mexican one holding a guitar and wearing a sombrero. Elkmont is a charming town of about 300 people, all of whom seem blissfully unaware of themselves and in general, the world around them. I say

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-46107000314233261322008-11-19T16:53:00.003-06:002008-11-19T22:52:42.057-06:00

The world lies still, soaked and saturated with meaning, waiting to be squeezed. I walked up a hill in Elkmont, Alabama today, and the way was rough but pain free. Atop the hill the sun was so bright I couldn’t see anything. I turned around to behold a dead field washed in the sun’s white light. Everything took on the white-washedness, including myself, and I climbed a bit further to an old

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-32435876169509623092008-11-13T09:55:00.002-06:002008-11-13T09:56:29.799-06:00

This is a poem to my friend, Jesswhose mess is beautifuland whose beauty is a mess.To Jess,whose room is a cavern of open books, fabric,of thoughts and captured moments.On their own, tiny islands- inconsequential,but let her swirl them together, and a room becomes anexplosion of profuse and profound beauty.She calls it disaster, I call it a treasure chest.To Jess,whose heart is soft and big,

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-33233928773951385492008-11-09T18:55:00.005-06:002008-11-11T20:41:33.522-06:00

Every day you and I are assailed by billboards, radio, demands from school or work, etc. We are over-committed, over-stimulated, and often find ourselves rushing through a world of colors and noises, not able to take any of it in. Because I want to write, I'm forced to slow down a bit. You can't write what you don't see, and seeing takes time. Plus God has taught me that I lose my sanity if I

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-28830873981091389872008-11-07T00:17:00.003-06:002008-11-07T00:21:43.533-06:00

This afternoon I sat outside with no shoes on and let my skin warm in the afternoon sun and cried because I hurt. I told God that this was hard and I needed him. And then, God met me. Allison and Jacob Kemp (fellow DTS students) walked by with their baby Joel. Allison handed him to me and we talked as I loved on Joel and absorbed baby therapy... Immediately I forgot myself a bit.Another

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-21519804095008797922008-11-02T17:45:00.004-06:002008-11-02T18:12:30.859-06:00

Today I ran on the outside track at the gym. I ran way too fast due to the summer weather, (I am now convinced that Texas weather has attention deficit disorder- summer. no winter. no fall. no summer.), my new shoes, and the fact that Pauline and I spent thirty minutes freaking out about how wonderful it is that our bodies work and we can laugh and pinch and run and play, and how we should do

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-48382847047558206112008-11-01T18:44:00.002-05:002008-11-01T18:53:19.910-05:00

Thus says the LORD: "Stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths,where the good way is; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls.But they said, 'We will not walk in it.'God says, "Walk in the good way. Rest. Ask for wisdom." We say, "No thank you." WHAT?! My roommate and I talked about this verse last night. She said this pretty much sums up all of history. I agree

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-17341268727233248472008-10-29T00:24:00.002-05:002008-10-29T22:59:29.463-05:00

I get the feeling (though it’s never been plainly stated)That for a man, the capacity to grow a beard is quite the source of pride.Those with full beards can look pensive and wiseMerely by leaning back and rubbing their chins.Those who cannot faithfully shave their thin whiskers every dayAs if to say,“Oh I could have a beard if I wanted one.I simply choose this naked face."And those with the

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-50976775427237321322008-10-28T17:39:00.003-05:002008-10-28T17:45:08.792-05:00

Today my professor played us a piece of music and asked us to write down what we thought the sentence structure of the piece would look like. Would it be filled with commas, m-dashes, exclamation points? Would it be a poem, or prose?Then she asked us to use our imaginations and paint the piece of music in words.The piece consisted of two instruments that I could make out; an organ and a horn.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-77019182106903854212008-10-23T20:44:00.004-05:002008-10-25T10:09:32.550-05:00

For my Spiritual Formation Class, we wrote a letter modeled after C.S. Lewis' book, The Screwtape Letters. If you haven't read the book, it is a fictional series of letters from one demon to another about the man they tempt and torture. So for this class we were to imagine how a demon might be lying to us. I don't know how this all really works, spiritually, but I wrote a letter about the lies

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-28903663350653054272008-10-20T22:50:00.007-05:002008-10-21T09:31:20.406-05:00

Today I was lying on the grass in the park reading and writing and thinking and scowling and concerned that there was definitely a good way to do this thing called life, a more simple way, a more obedient way, a more abundant way, and that I was missing it. I was half praying half brainstorming when I realized that fall was crisp and sort of perfect and I was wasting blue perfection being angsty

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-73104831171718667802008-08-20T11:00:00.002-05:002008-08-20T11:45:00.565-05:00

Once this summer I was feeling frustrated with the fact that God felt far from me. I was there to talk to people about Him, to teach what I believe is true, but still, the God I want others to know felt far. Why?! One evening, I climbed to the roof of my dorm building to catch the sunset. I had lived in a huge city for a few weeks at this point, and actually had not been able to watch the

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-19354948401962380742008-08-19T04:34:00.006-05:002008-08-19T05:09:12.650-05:00

It is 4:42am, and I am awake. And not just in the physical sense of the word. My heart is awake to God and the way He is moving in my life, and my mind is awake and filled with lessons I am learning from every angle. I'm not always awake in this sense, but tonight, I am. I remember once I was driving in Oklahoma, and felt so superbly awake to God that I had the urge to roll down my window and

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-80142297365641848842008-05-28T00:17:00.002-05:002008-05-28T00:45:32.832-05:00

God did some really great things for me today, really great. God is always so good, but for some reason today, he just loved on me. Here are two smallish ways...1) I got sick at the gym while working out, and for some reason felt really dizzy. So I just went outside where my gym has this little outdoor track and garden. It is a small haven in a busy part of town, and I just sat under this

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-69718731928576662582008-05-22T00:19:00.004-05:002008-05-25T23:56:10.088-05:00

I am pretty tired, but don't want to go to bed yet, so I thought I'd share a poem from the past.Fitting In (to be read with a country accent)Sometimes, when things don't fit, it kinda gets you down. like when your cars to big for the parking spot,or your pants don't zip and you know they ought,or the freezer's jammed and you've got a bag of ice,or your in the mood for chick flicks and your date

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-46160638008126879162008-05-21T20:48:00.001-05:002008-05-26T00:04:26.693-05:00

Sometimes, life is so rich I feel like a life-glutton. Ali’s wedding was one of these times. On Saturday, moments before the wedding I stood at the back of the church waiting to walk down the aisle, and time stood still. Friends and family were all in the sanctuary, looking forward. Ali’s friends were lined up in front of me, and then Keila, my youngest sister, Katie, the next youngest, then

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-92136861171158651442008-05-16T22:31:00.003-05:002008-05-18T20:43:42.384-05:00

Tomorrow my little sister is getting married to a man who has won not only her heart, but the hearts of everyone in our family by his commitment to Christ and his love for her. Anyone who knows me knows that I admire and respect Ali as much as any woman in this world. She is steadfast, compassionate, mature and gentle, and she loves her Lord. I kind of knew she would marry first, though I

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-69107700524000457522008-05-07T07:43:00.002-05:002008-05-07T15:04:21.604-05:00

She had a storm inside of her. She felt it brewing months ago, but hushed and hushed and hushed it. Wasn’t her life supposed to be characterized by peace and joy? Shhh… she whispered to the storm. I am not supposed to feel you. She smiled and became more centered on the outside. She spoke truth into the lives of others. She shared her faith. But the storm, it grew and it grew. She could

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-72868777081339897482008-05-03T22:01:00.005-05:002008-05-04T23:27:00.842-05:00

One thing about writing is, there's a lot of unnecessary pressure that goes into it. I don't think I'm a great writer. I'm alright, but not great. Sometimes, when my wit factor is especially low, I will just not write at all, at least not anything that anyone will read. But I'll journal. I'll lazily pour pages of apathetic musings, knowing that it's only me who'll read it. I'm not feeling

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-44669662387286811042008-04-15T08:38:00.003-05:002008-04-15T08:49:49.098-05:00

I figured since I listed my blogspot on my most recent update letter I should probably... write something. A quick update: Today is April 15th, and that means that in 22 days I will have completed my first year at Seminary. Supposedly that means I have half-mastered something. I hope my future employers will forgive me for what I'm about to say: I'm not sure I'm going to have quite mastered

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-14969049152099401502008-04-03T15:23:00.004-05:002008-05-03T22:36:22.786-05:00

Part I: she sees the storm green against blue is lovely, and soft but green against gray has a harsh beauty that I sometimes prefer. today is one of those days.today the clouds are strong and solidand so many different shades of greyit's amazing there's only one name. against this sky the leaves of trees are strong, inviting the storm, irrationally unafraid, dancing and laughing as they shake.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-74984355872264659482008-03-02T21:55:00.002-06:002008-03-02T22:11:46.815-06:00

This semester, God has been teaching me about faith. I didn't ask for a lesson on faith. I asked him to teach me about love. I did a lot of thinking and goal setting on New Years, and prayed that God would help me to see His love for me. But He chose to start with Faith. Now I am sitting in my apartment, listening to the wind howl, thinking, God really knows what He is doing. The thing is,

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-2550213351370867892008-02-18T22:53:00.003-06:002008-02-18T23:07:55.389-06:00

I saw the sky with diamond starsFrom the southern hemisphere.I let her strong caramel voiceCalm and soothe my fear. I put my hands into the glassAnd touched an answered prayerI watched them walking hand in handWith aged and gentle care.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-24975486741364206642008-01-30T23:13:00.001-06:002008-05-03T22:40:27.274-05:00

"And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Col 1:17I live in a small but lovely two bedroom apartment with three beautiful and incredibly diverse girls. The four of us are about as different as different can get. There is Chimgee, from Mongolia, a woman of God whose faith and perseverence humbles me to my

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-47592492307752237552008-01-25T23:50:00.000-06:002008-01-26T00:11:59.686-06:00

Last week I had a hard week. But it ended pretty good. Then this week, I had a hard week. But it ended good. I'm not even sure what I want to write right now, but I know that I am so inspired, I have to write. I think I'll write about the things that inspired me this week. 1) Todd Wagner. The speaker at the DTS chapel and pastor of Watermark church. This man is rooted and grounded in the

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-60151681857044369572007-12-31T21:29:00.000-06:002007-12-31T22:03:11.669-06:00

I´m sitting in a casita in Puebla, Mexico, writing this blog because I have been dying to write all day. I´m here on vacation with my childhood friend Erika Wright. We came with our backpacks, passports, and excitement for a little adventure. It didn´t take too long. We arrived in Mexico City and boarded a bus for 2 hours to Puebla. We were supposed to stay the first 2 nights with a woman

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-38326201700198884242007-11-13T13:47:00.000-06:002007-11-14T09:54:41.770-06:00

"They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-45114633876758630342007-11-03T12:57:00.000-05:002007-11-03T13:18:21.800-05:00

If some people (Brent McKinney), think that I am going to post every day my musings on life, those people are mistaken! Surely you have better things to read daily than my thoughts (try Brent's blog, the BBC news, or Till We Have Faces, by C.S. Lewis)... so I am going for once a week! And that is pretty dang good if you ask me. DTS has been good, and hard. But honestly, I am thriving here.

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201166.post-30925893570215091992007-10-24T17:38:00.000-05:002007-10-24T18:07:33.078-05:00

Beloved Family and Friends,In my ideal world, I would be able to sit with each of you, a bible, and a cup of coffee, and talk with you about what God has been doing in my life, as well as listen to what God has been doing in yours. But I am forced to give up that little fantasy, and for now I have decided to make use of technology, and update you all sporadically via posting on the web. I will

Abby Jane Lorenchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16175771232967443022noreply@blogger.com4