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My Constant

Becoming the topic of a former student’s research project has made me pretty introspective, slightly paranoid, and extremely humbled.  I had this young man as a quiet, inquisitive, and gifted 7th grader a few years ago so when he told me I was the subject of his research – his person of influence – well – it is a humbling honor to say the least.  The project is based off the novel Tuesdays with Morrie, by Mitch Album, where Mitch writes a novel about his favorite professor and the life lessons Morrie imparts.  Well – my student, who I either called Kabetzke or McGeek, and I met at a local coffee shop, every Sunday during the Fall semester. Oh – the McGeek reference is from NCIS.  His class period was my NCIS kiddos because several were fans of the show or I thought they reminded me of 7th grade versions of key characters.  Well – I of course was the female version of Gibbs – because of the constant cup of coffee I’m sure.  Well –there is the gray hair and the parental devotion I have for my students too.

Anyway – every Sunday, Kabetzke would have his list of questions and I honestly had a hard time putting into words my responses and sounding somewhat –normal.  It’s a little strange to lay aside my teacher persona and put on the normal person persona.  But the sounding normal – that is where the introspection comes to play.  Some questions have been about my childhood experiences, tough situations I’ve gone through, my family –past and present, and my influential people.  It’s a lot like having someone write your biography –well it is exactly like that.  The hardest question to date has been “What has been your constant?”  McGeek thought it would be my coffee – but that’s just partially true.  That particular question gave me pause because one primary constant has been my family, yet even that is in a constant state of change.  That’s why in my mind this past Christmas was the last one with us’ns.  Our son will graduate from A&M in May, our oldest daughter is in a serious relationship with a young man and our baby girl is getting ready to apply to colleges.  So – the family dynamic is changing, yet they are still my constant. I know in my heart – that even if our children are scattered across the globe – we will have that strong bond.  This past summer, the two college kids wrote me separate letters of encouragement and appreciation. Just because.  Both letters had me in tears and both made me realize I have been a positive influence in their life.  (During those weird teenage years – a mom often wonders if her words sink in or not)

I really have two constants –the second being Faith.  I do not have answers to why I’ve walked through some of my situations.  I just know it has molded me into a person who does not give up.  So – the experience of having someone choose you as their person of influence – very humbling and eye-opening.  It has made me realize how powerful our influence within the classroom and within our families can be. We do leave legacies – question is – what kind are we leaving?

MilestonesMilestones are significant events in the life of an individual and I have been pondering those events in regards to the important “milestone” ages I’ve experienced. More specifically – those decade ages. I’ll start with my first year because doctor’s told my parents I would not live past a year. They, about 6 total, told her all kinds of silly things like: I was a tumor, an intestinal problem, a female problem, a dead baby problem -all problems that could be solved with surgery. Gee- this was 1963 and I’ve always wondered if health care was that oblivious pregnancy issue/symptoms or did they really know? Apparently then, 45 year old women did not have babies when their reproductive equipment ceased to work anymore. Anyway- here I am! Each year, decade, day is a chance to me to thank God for two things – wrong doctor prognosis and my Daddy’s unacceptance of all the prognoses. The one doctor who in fact delivered me may have been the only one who hit the nail on the head “your baby, if it lives, will not be normal”. Normal is overrated. The second big decade milestone happened on the Easter Sunday I turned 10 in the chilly baptismal waters of First Baptist Church Amarillo as Dr. Moore baptised me in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. I always thought the symbolism baptism was cool. My next big decade – at 20 -occurred when I became engaged to my best friend and began an adventure of a lifetime. That sounds cheesy but deal with it. Technically – I may have been 21, but give or take a few months, I was close to 20. Then I literally stumbled into my 30’s. Most women cry when they hit 30. if I did-it was exhaustion caused by having two small children – one a very active two year old and a new baby girl, who was colicky. Sleeping, or letting me sleep, was not part of her plan. I did like the surprise party my Louisiana family and husband threw for me. I was so sleep deprived, my husbands offer to stop at an outlet mall to “kill time” because we were 30 minutes early totally went unnoticed. Then by the time my 40s rolled around, I was too busy starting my new career as a teacher to worry about becoming “older ” ! Starting off teaching at this age has a distinct advantage in that I know most of the cunning tricks my 7th graders pull and I have that momma stare down pat. A few weeks ago, on April 8th, I hit the big 50. Am I depressed about it? Not really. My family decorated the house in black streamers and balloons and we celebrated all weekend long with all kinds of food. Like I said earlier, fifty years ago doctors told my parents I would not live past a year or not be normal. I’d love to tell them they were wrong – oh wait I second I can’t because I’ve outlived them all! There have been many more key events in my 5 decades of life –but I can talk about those another time. Yep – I am sitting here wondering what other amazing things God will do in the next 50 years. Guess I’ll ponder that while on the eliptical this afternoon.

Milestones are significant events in the life of an individual and I have been pondering those events in regards to the important “milestone” ages I’ve experienced.  More specifically – those decade ages.  I’ll start with my first year because doctor’s told my parents I would not live past a year.  They, about 6 total, told her all kinds of silly things like: I was a tumor, an intestinal problem, a female problem, a dead baby problem -all problems that could be solved with surgery.  Gee- this was 1963 and I’ve always wondered if health care was that oblivious pregnancy issue/symptoms or did they really know?  Apparently then, 45 year old women did not have babies when their reproductive equipment ceased to work anymore.  Anyway- here I am!  Each year, decade, day is a chance to me to thank God for two things – wrong doctor prognosis and my Daddy’s unacceptance of all the prognoses.  The one doctor who in fact delivered me may have been the only one who hit the nail on the head “your baby, if it lives, will not be normal”.  Normal is overrated.  

The second big decade milestone happened on the Easter Sunday I turned 10 in the chilly baptismal waters of First Baptist Church Amarillo as Dr. Moore baptised me in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. I always thought the symbolism baptism was cool.   My next big decade – at 20 -occurred when I became engaged to my best friend and began an adventure of a lifetime. That sounds cheesy but deal with it. Technically – I may have been 21, but give or take a few months, I was close to 20.  Then I literally  stumbled into my 30’s.   Most women cry when they hit 30. if I did-it was exhaustion caused by having two small children – one a very active two year old and a new baby girl, who was colicky. Sleeping, or letting me sleep,  was not part of her plan.  I did like the surprise party my Louisiana family and husband threw for me.  I was so sleep deprived, my husbands offer to stop at an outlet mall to “kill time” because we were 30 minutes early totally went unnoticed.  Then by the time my 40s rolled around, I was too busy starting my new career as a teacher to worry about becoming “older ” !  Starting off teaching at this age has a distinct advantage in that I know most of the cunning tricks my 7th graders pull and I have that momma stare down pat.  A few weeks ago, on April 8th,   I hit the big 50. Am I depressed about it?   Not really. My family decorated the house in black streamers and balloons and we celebrated all weekend long with all kinds of food.  Like I said earlier, fifty years ago doctors told my parents I would not live past a year or not be normal.  I’d love to tell them they were wrong – oh wait I second I can’t because I’ve outlived them all!  There have been many more key events in my 5 decades of life –but I can talk about those another time.  Yep – I am sitting here wondering what other amazing things God will do in the next 50 years.  Guess I’ll ponder that while on the elliptical this afternoon. 

 

My Constant

My Constant.

Faith and Arrows

Some families gathered around the Christmas tree Christmas morn, while other began the day worshiping in their church homes.  Our family did the latter, but we also said goodbye. You see — December 25th marked the last church service our little church would ever hold as we officially closed the doors.  This day ranks up there as one of the hardest days – but it certainly wasn’t THE hardest.  No – that day is already taken.  But – let me start at the beginning.

Some might say this church, World Family Harvest – later renamed Crossroads Fellowship – began August 1996 and they would be right to a degree.  But – the  seed of an idea was planted many years before in the hearts of the two young men, my husband Kent and his little brother Jeff) in childhood.  You see, Kent and Jeff were best-friends and did everything together – swimming lessons to swim team; fighting the neighborhood bullies and sticking up for each other; getting into mischief -all together.  Yet one game they had was called Cat Troops where they would go to the nearby field and pretend to rally a massive army of cats to go into battle against unseen enemies.  The boys would take turns making long, elaborate speeches to motivate their troops.  I doubt they realized then that this would be a factor in their future endeavor.

Like I said, Jeff and Kent were best-friends.  Jeff was always first to know the special events in our life – engagement, birth of our children, etc.  Both brothers began theology school to acquire a Master’s in Theology with plans of someday becoming pastors.  That was when Jeff announced he wanted to start a church in the Panhandle area.  On one weekend trip to Amarillo and after hours of driving around with both Jeff and his wife Jimmie – the four of us felt like the church was to be in Amarillo.  There really wasn’t any question or doubt in my mind that we’d join Jeff and Jimmie in this adventure – even with the strong warning a friend gave us.  We’d gone to our Bible Study/Prayer Group and asked for prayer regarding this decision (which was in my mind a no-brainer). The leader said he felt like he saw this as a dangerous journey in which we would be pelted with a barrage of arrows of the enemy.  He wasn’t trying to talk us out of us per say – but didn’t want us walking into it blindly.  Blindly we did because love is blind.  I remember having a tinge of “wait a minute” when our friend spoke those words -but I thought “we’ve done hard before and God led us through”.  True –but a bit cavalier looking back.

So – August 1996, the church officially began in the living room of Jeff’s house.  I became the first and only Kid’s Church Director because – well – I had three children under the age of 6 years of age.  Within a few weeks, we moved to an empty church building – till a disagreement erupted between the building owner and Jeff  - then we moved to another home.  By now – the church had a small congregation – all seeking a bold move of God like the folks in Pensacola Florida had experienced.  In fact – Jeff and Kent went to the revival in Florida in hopes we could experience that in our church.    About December we experienced another move because the family’s, whose home we met in, had a “different vision” than we did – and one Sunday after church we were asked to leave.  Truth be told – they wanted a Pastor they could control and that just wasn’t going to happen.  By this point – Kent had become an elder and had Jeff’s back.

The church moved to the basement of Jeff and Jimmie’s home for awhile till we found a building to rent.  It was at this location World Family Harvest really begin to take root and grow.  One Sunday alone I went from having my three kiddos to 30!  The four of us did everything together almost everyday.  Then – Fall of 1997 – Kent and Jeff traveled to Washington DC to attend the Promise Keeper Rally.  Kent was employed by IBM at the time and was praying about when to leave into full-time ministry.  On this trip – he felt the time was now.   He tried his hand at commodities – but that was a bust.  It was one of those things that as a wife – you have this feeling it’s not going to work – but you don’t voice it because you think it’s just female fear of security issues.  Yeah – I should have opened my mouth because that didn’t go too well for us.    In the meantime, the church was going right along with a few bumps in the road –divisive people and witches.  Yep – we had to run a few out – literally and through prayer.  I remember seeing an odd group come in –all in black –and sit on the back row.  I could feel the atmosphere change and I just remember praying for God to deal with it.  I’m not saying that I alone made the little group flee – but within a few minutes they did make a beeline for the door.  I later learned that Jimmie too had noticed them (as we all did being on the praise team) and had also begun praying for God to take care of it.

More witch-type folk.  We had a woman attend who I honestly think believed she was a witch  I don’t know if she literally was or not –but she was one odd duck.  We had a musical, in which she played the part of a woman at the cross, and when she was crying at the crucifixion scene  I could have sworn it sounded like hysterical laughing.  I remember hearing people murmuring behind me “why is that woman laughing?!”   I never felt comfortable around her – like the heebee jeebies.  I don’t know if it was coincidence or not – but she gave Jimmie a Christmas present and upon receiving it – she became ill with a stomach bug within a few hours.  We did not do anything at the time – but just waited.  In the the meantime – we had some underlying treachery and plotting going on within the worship team – but it didn’t come to a head till the following year.

Then the biggest arrow.  On Tuesday – April April 20th, 1999 – we watched in shock as news feeds gave us a constant diet of the tragic shooting at Columbine.  Kent and I had just finished worship practice and had gone over to Jeff’s to get our children.  We often traded babysitting nights with them –tonight they watched our three.  Jeff and Jimmie had recently adopted a beautiful baby girl named Jordan Elizabeth and the little cousins all loved playing together!  Jeff was glued to the TV and commented about how he probably should preach about this on Sunday.  We said our goodbyes and wished them well on their trip to Branson, Missouri the next day.  Friday afternoon, Jimmie called me at the church to touch base with me regarding the Women’s meeting we had that coming Monday.  We were planning on singing together and she’d asked me to speak.  Jimmie was a one of a kind with a heart of gold.  I remember telling her I was a little nervous to which she replied “I’ve been praying for you – you will be great!  I can’t wait to hear your lesson.  I love you!”    Saturday afternoon (April 24th) in Amarillo was cloudy, rainy and unsettling.  I did not know why till later that afternoon – but I felt uneasy – like something was wrong.  Later that afternoon – a man from our church called to see if we were home an if he could come out to the house.  From my experience, I knew then – someone was dead.   Jeff, Jimmie and Jordan, while driving in the torrential downpour in Oklahoma, spun out of control into an oncoming semi.   They were killed instantly.   The next day,  Sunday, Kent assumed the unofficial role of Senior Pastor.  He had the duty to inform the church the news and he tried to lead this church through the grief while he tried to handle his own.  You see – within 6 months – he lost his two best friends.  On a Sunday six months before – Jeff and Kent had lost their dad to a rare muscular disease.   Jeff and Kent both spoke at their dad’s funeral to a crowd of at least 500 people.  Both joked a bit about the fact this was the largest congregation either had spoken before.  Jimmie and I made an agreement that if either of us die in near future – that we’d wear red (our favorite color) to the funeral.   I am always amazed at how Kent held himself together during following days after the accident.  We couldn’t just grieve normally because some chose to make their deaths a spectacle.  Remember that divisive group I mentioned earlier?  They chose this moment to  start a coup and it began with their advertising a Resurrection Service at the funeral home to resurrect Jeff, Jimmie and Jordan from the dead.  They had already staged secret meetings at the church plotting this and a take over leadership.   Well – Kent told them he wasn’t in favor of this “resurrection service” because he knew it wouldn’t happen.  “Don’t you think I’ve already begged God to bring MY brother back?  God’s resounding answer has been No.”    The service went on as “planned” and as I watched people fervently pray and cry out to God – I felt sorrow for them.  It reminded me of what the prophets of Baal must have looked like praying, screaming and pleading to their God to consume their sacrifice.  They were sheep lost without their shepherd.  I don’t remember how much time past until Kent stepped forward and began reading from

Isaiah 61  the passage he and Jeff built the church upon.

The Year of the LORD’s Favor

1 The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]
2 to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.

He announced then and there it was time to begin the mourning process and bind the brokenhearted.   The lost crowd dispersed.  Some returned to our church, others drifted in search of someone “like Jeff” .  The woman who we suspected was a witch of some kind – came to the funeral home demanding to see their bodies (it was closed casket for a good reason) because she wanted to see the “damage she’d done”.  She honestly felt her curse had paid off I suppose  when in reality it was foul weather and my brother-in-law’s tendency for speeding and/or falling asleep at the wheel.  Need less to say – she was politely asked to leave the church.
Oh – I did keep my promise to Jimmie.  She had recently given me a red dress of hers that she thought I’d like.  I proudly wore it to the Monday women’s meeting we’d planned together.  I lead the praise and worship of her favorite songs and instead of my message – I had a memorial tribute to my best friend & sister. two days later,  Kent had the sad privilege of speaking before another 500+ crowd.

In the months that followed – we had several factions (arrows) rise up to assume control and cause dissent.  We had some new leadership in place – but no one really assumed that support role that Kent was to Jeff.  In the meantime, another six months down the road – I became seriously ill with an eye disease that rendered me temporarily blind in one eye.  The only doctor familiar with it was in Dallas and –we had no insurance.  This was part of what we lost when Kent left IBM.  We thought blindly, no pun intended, that God would honor our faith.  Not saying He didn’t -but common sense would have been good too. In fact, I had a few in particular who scolded me in prayer that I lacked faith and that was why I was not healed.  I beg to differ – it takes faith to endure the pain (24/7) of this blinding, rare eye disease and faith to believe God will provide healing how He decides.  God did work miracles in that the treatment was free because it was experimental, the amazing doctor (recently re-located to Dallas from John Hopkins) waived his surgical services, and two angels provided the rest of the money needed that completely covered the hospital costs (when surgery was needed).  That year of 1999-2000 was the longest in our lifetime.

The years and events that followed all meld into one mishmash of events.  I just remember several times we had people come “meet to talk” and it involved their saying they wanted to have Kent step down because they were to be in charge or they let us know they were leaving and they took a chunk of people with them.  Once it was the whole worship team.  Oh well.  The majority of our trouble came from within the worship team – which is appropriate I guess since Satan was supposedly the worship leader in heaven right?  Now the last seven years have not been the case and have been some of the best times of worship ever.  Anyway – we began praying about five years ago or so whether or not to continue the church or not. A body can only withstand so many blows and direct hits before it collapses.  I feel in my heart Kent couldn’t let the church go because in a sense, it would be letting Jeff go,  But I was slowly watching this church take its toll on him.  It’s something he held close to the vest – but we (his family) knew.   I also felt that the last few years, inspite of attempts to resurrect life into the church through a name change and location change, that the church was really on life support – metaphorically speaking.  We just couldn’t bring ourselves to pull the plug.

This had been the church my children grew up in, were baptized in and served in nearly their whole lives.  This church had been a place of restoration to many hurting souls who entered our doors broken and in time, were able tOKo go back into the world stronger and whole again.  Our congregation never grew by leaps and bounds, but seemed more to me like a place of recovery and growth because several good people are serving in other churches around town.  That was part of the verse – to bind the brokenhearted.  So when Kent began taking baby steps toward transition -it felt like the right thing to do.  It was just a matter ot timing.  He first began work in obtaining an MBA thinking that would open doors (he’d begun applying for jobs in Amarillo and elsewhere) but – nothing.  Then about a year ago, I thought he should begin working towards becoming a Math teacher.  He has a great relationship with kids and we’d have a similar work schedule, lots of perks right?  Well – he obtained his certification, began interviewing and –nothing.  Flashback a few years prior to the day we moved our son Daniel to Texas A&M and a not so random conversation with the dad of his roommate.  Kent mentioned our future plans and his desire to possibly get back into Engineering again because he felt he needed to be able to be in a career to set aside retirement benefits – which hadn’t happened in the past 15 years.  Nor had he had any health benefits.  This past September, after another prayer time of asking God “What now?”  This same dad calls Kent up and offers him a job as a contract engineer type person in the transmission line department.  This is the same department he did summer intern work in back in college (he was an Electrical Engineer major). So – we knew unmistakeably that this was God’s answer.   So – then the process to shut down and a new career begins.

As I sit here – I have no clue where God will take us next.  It honestly doesn’t seem “real” that the church is gone.  But is it really gone??  The building may be locked, the keys turned in, the sign taken down and items dispersed to another fledgling church – but is it really gone?  Nah – we all know the church is people and like I’ve said – it’s been a resting place for folks before they are healed up to serve in other places.  I know the same is true today –just this time — we will be the people entering a church needing quiet ministry and restoration before we can serve again.

Courage

I have asked my wide-eyed 7th graders to write about courage this week with a prompt that says – “write about a time you had a lot of courage.”  I am amazed in many ways.  First at the stories bursting from their minds and secondly -the lack of stories coming to their mind.  I’ve prompted them with examples: first dirt bike race, a recital, a sport event, or heavy hitting ones – death in family or divorce, or sickness.  I do not know if it’s fear to put those hurts or ideas down in paper because it makes it too real or raw  or if some of these kiddos have not had to face tough things in their life.
What is courage really?  What does it look like?  Courage is defined as mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.  I just keep flashing back to my 7th grade year and I vividly remember Daddy coming to get me from school.  His face pale; eyes glistening with tears.  My mom had gone in for a simple biopsy because she found  lump in her breast.  Daddy just quietly said “Sugar – momma has cancer and the doctors had to take a lot of tissue from her – including her …breast and all the lymph nodes in her arm.”  I remember being shocked that my daddy had said the “b” word – then it dawned on me that mom had the “c” word.  She was at stage 3 – nearly 4.  I did not totally understand what it meant – but I remember kneeling beside my bed that evening, in a rage of tears, begging God to not take her.  I remember waking up the next morning in the floor.  She did live and survived the radical mastectomy and months of cobalt treatment.  The surgeon said she would likely not be able to raise her right arm up more than a few inches, but she could try this new stuff called “physical therapy” if she wanted.  I still see her grit and determination as she slowly walked her fingers up the wall to gain her range of motion back.  After my shoulder surgery last summer, I now know how painful that must have been because I did some of the same exercises.

Could I have written about those events when I was a scrawny, skittish seventh grader?  Probably not.   What do I do with my little crew – pray they receive inspiration.

What if?

I find it intriguing that today’s worship music has trended back to the thought that God is sovereign and we should trust Him if our life falls apart.  That God is still God and He is still faithful and He is still good.  This is basically not news to me and how I’ve tried to see my life.  My husband tends to talk in “what if’s” and that may be all fine and good for some – but my husband is also  an engineer and for every answer I try to offer – he counters with another “what if” because his brilliant, yet overtaxed, mind has already worked out a million possible outcomes.  He sometimes thinks my faith is –Pollyanna-ish – and that maybe I don’t understand.  True – I often do not understand the depth of his questions, but I don’t have to – I really don’t want to and I am not trying to sound mean or disrespectful.  I just trust God.  I’ve walked through many of the same trials – yet my eyes have seen how God still worked things together for good.   Yet – there has been one major crisis that shook our family to the core and I honestly still question the “good” that came from it.  Then I remind myself that maybe we won’t see that answer till heaven.  I have made an inner vow to not waste my life on this side of heaven trying to figure out “why” or “what if” – I have too much to enjoy or handle daily than to live in the past because I cannot change it anyway, nor do I want to live in the future of uncertainties and miss out on the blessings and lessons of today.  Does this mean I don’t plan things in advance?  Obvious things I do – but those what if’s – not so much.  Primarily – because all of our what if’s involve people and people are capricious beings with self will.   Life is too short.

The Hidden Dirt

We began ripping up the carpet this weekend and discovered a wonderful layer of dirt lurking beneath the surface.  Deep beneath the surface!  I vacuum every week – sometimes more if required.  I am not a clean freak by no means and I also dust fairly often.  However, in the Texas panhandle – it seems fruitless.  You dust in the morning and by afternoon – a 5’0clock layer re-appears.  Yet – this layer of dust beneath the layer of carpet and carpet pad bothers me.  I figured my vacuum really sucks or that dirt wouldn’t be there.  I have lived under the assumption that my efforts to rid my home of dirt is futile.  I cannot do it on my own and yes – I am going to make an analogy here.  It reminds me of what Jesus said about the white tombstones being scrubbed clean but rottenness lies beneath.  Matthew 23:27 “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. 28 In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.”  We – I walk around thinking I’m this wonderful Christian when in my heart resides a dead woman.  I am a woman of unclean lips too.  I know I have failed as a Christian – I fail daily – we all do.  All have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God.  This bothers me greatly.  My desire is to be a living example – a living memorial or testament of Jesus.  It seemed easier when I was a pastor’s wife – it was expected.  Now- I live without that pressure, yet I feel a different pressure,  more urgency to live my life that points others to heaven.  Just because I am not currently serving in a church (still  looking for new home!), does not mean I am threw being a servant.  So – I suppose the meaning of this is simply this –I am full of junk –I can scrub, vacuum, scrap, dust and shove in a closet all my baggage or – I can let Jesus into my junk-filled heart and make me truly clean – daily because just like the West Texas wind fills my house with dust – the wicked winds of the world can fill my heart too.  If my heart is full of sin – I cannot be a vessel that shines forth the glory of the Lord in my life.  So  my prayer is simply this –  Create in me a pure heart, O God,  and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  This should help keep the dust and dirt out of my heart.

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