Here I raise my Ebenezer

This is my Ebenezer. It's a cross I built over the course of weeks and months of praying as I walked the Seminary grounds. That particular prayer has been answered with an undeniable NO and I am gleeful, laughing, as I think of how far I've come, how I wonder what might be next.

This is from a post I wrote in July.

One morning this week, upon waking, I started humming “Here I raise my Ebenezer” which is the second verse of “Come Thou Fount…” Last night at the Sharp Edge, Babs and I were discussing what posts we had on the back burner. I said, a shoe post, of course (here’s hers), and the up to three meme from Bookhart. And a paragraph so far on this old hymn, “Come thou Fount.” Oh, she says, I have that Easter one in my head right now, the one that goes “A-hhh-le-luia.” So then we both try to hum, “Come thou Fount” and fail miserably. I finally get it going. Yes, so get the mental image of two tired librarians, with our Yuenglings, hungry as ever, humming hymns at the Sharp Edge.I like the idea of an Ebenezer, a rock that one places because “God has helped us.” In the Old Testament, the Patriarchs (Abraham and his dudes) were forever placing rocks and calling a place “Beth-el” or “Ebenezer” or what have you, after God did some amazing thing. It was a visible reminder to them, and I guess to anyone who stopped by. I guess the modern equivalent would be memorials—like the Vietnam Memorial, or the Civil Rights Memorial which my dad visited after he was done conventioneering with the Presbyterians in Birmingham last week. Except that those all seem to be memorials to deaths or cataclysmic events. I’m just rambling here…