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Bill MacDonald

February 6 at 1:58 PM ·

We are at EMMC ER. Laurel is waiting for a CT scan to check for a possible blood clot in her lungs. Your prayers are appreciated. We are at EMMC ER. Laurel is waiting for a CT scan to check for a possible blood clot in her lungs. Your prayers are appreciated.

February 6 at 7:00 PM ·

Ok, friends, here’s an update on Laurel. She was admitted to EMMC with an undetermined respiratory infection. Tests are ongoing. We spent the afternoon in a room in the ER. I’m thankful that we had that room, because when I called in about an hour ago to see if she’d been moved yet, the nurse told me that no beds were available, and it’s likely Laurel will spend that night in that ER room.

I have two sick boys at home, so Laurel agreed that I should come home when I did, a little before five pm. She was as comfortable as she could be, receiving oxygen and good care by the staff at EMMC.

Your ongoing prayers are appreciated. We’ve benefitted from a loving church family already, as well as the kind expressions of support from dozens of so many of you here on FB. Thank you. That’s all for now.

February 7 at 10:39 AM ·

Update on Laurel: She has influenza A and pneumonia. She’s in EMMC CCU Rm 568. I took her tablet to her, so she’ll be able to connect to FB herself when she’s awake, which may be awhile. She hasn’t slept much for the last two weeks.

She’s grateful for all your support and prayers. Robert Boettger, Nancy Lois, and Karl Boettger, know that she is in good hands. She’s receiving excellent care. As she said to me this morning, “I got the big one. Guess I needed a break.” Dry sense of humor all the way, just like we love her for.

I have to take the boys to be tested for flu now, and later, I have to clean the church. It’s going to be a long day. Your continued prayers are appreciated. If anyone local wants to help with the cleaning, I won’t say no. 😉 DM me.  (Members of the church did take care of cleaning for that week.)

February 7 at 11:28 AM ·

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”
-Corrie ten Boom

“My times are in Your hand…”
Psalm 31:15

Bill MacDonald is with Laurel Boettger MacDonald.

February 7 at 3:31 PM ·

I just got off the phone with the folks at EMMC. Laurel’s going to be in CCU for another night/day. She’s very groggy and has been sleeping most of the day. Due to our exposure to influenza, the boys and I are staying at home for now, and are taking medication per our respective medical professionals.

February 7 at 7:57 PM ·

Both boys have the flu, and we’re all getting treatment for it. Both boys have the flu, and we’re all getting treatment for it.

Bill MacDonald is with Laurel Boettger MacDonald and 7 others.

February 7 at 8:55 PM ·

Morning Update: Laurel is still sleeping; very little change to her condition. I cannot go see her today as my condition is worse. I’m staying in touch with her nurse by phone, but the boys and I have lie low today. The flu is taking its toll on all of us.

****************

I just finished putting the boys to bed. In our prayers, we thanked God for the dozens of you that have prayed for us, and that have offered words of encouragement and support during this trying week of illness. We prayed for those of you that we know are also dealing with illness, for we know that our God is mighty to save! “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”

I’m hoping to see Laurel again in the morning. I will be a masked man, but I miss her. As I’ve said elsewhere, all three of us at home are on Tamiflu–both boys are known to have the flu, and I’m on the medicine as if I have it.

We have plenty of food. My sister Priscilla dropped off some homemade soup and bread today. ❤ With that, the groceries I bought last weekend, and the food provided by the church earlier in the week, we’re set for the next several days. ❤

Apart from checking in on Laurel tomorrow and getting the rest of my medicine from the pharmacy (they ran out and had just enough to get me started tonight/tomorrow morning), I’m on quarantine, so I’m unable to clean the church, but others have taken that on for us (the people of God showing his love by their deeds) this week. I’m also unable to go to work; my bosses are being very supportive, and my job is secure. I have been reassured of that and told today to take care of my family first. I would have done that, anyway, but that reassurance is nice to have.

That’s going to be it for tonight. I’ll post more tomorrow when I know more and have time to write it. Laurel asked me to pass along her gratitude to you, which I may have done already, but it’s been a long day and I’m known to repeat myself, anyway…

Good night, dear friends. We love you!

Sometime around the third week of January 2019, my wife, Laurel, developed a severe, wracking cough. It would strike at any time and she would cough to the point of gagging before she could stop. It was painful to hear, painful to watch, and miserable for her. Yet she wouldn’t go to the doctor or to walk-in care, thinking that it was just a cold that would soon pass.

Finally, on January 27, she agreed to go to walk-in care. It was a quick visit, and we left with prednisone and Bactrim (sp?) for her to take for a week. By the end of the week, her cough was no better, and on February 3, we were back at walk-in care. This time around, I had been able to reach our primary care office ahead of time, and they had recommended we ask for an x-ray to check for pneumonia. We did that, and the preliminary result suggested pneumonia, so the PA put Laurel back on prednisone, did a different antibiotic, gave her a shot in the backside, and told her, “Right now you’ll feel like you’ve been kicked by a mule, but by tonight you’ll feel like Wonder Woman.” She was right about the first part, but not the second. She also told us to schedule a follow-up with our primary care physician for the end of the week.

Laurel felt well enough to cheer on her beloved New England Patriots as they defeated the LA Rams in Super Bowl LIII, but by Wednesday, February 6, she had developed a fever, and I called our primary care office to tell them she needed to be seen right away. Within moments of arriving there, Laurel was put on oxygen, and they had called for an ambulance to take her to the hospital. I chose EMMC because of my familiarity with it, knowing more people that work there than at the other hospital in town, and because it seems that many patients end of there after beginning treatment at the other one. I followed the ambulance to EMMC and joined Laurel in the ER. We spent several hours there together; she was put in a room in very short order, which turned out to be a blessing, because no rooms were available for her upstairs that night. While we were there, elder Jay R from our church went to our house and checked on the boys. Then he went to a couple of fast food places and bought their very specific food choices and took them lunch. He gave them his phone number so they could contact him if they needed anything else.

By a little after 4:00pm, Laurel and I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, so when the chance came for her to get some food, she shared it with me. Bolstered by it, we were able to think through what needed to be done for our family. She had already had a CT scan to check for possible blood clots in her lungs (there were none), and faced other tests. The decision to admit her had already been made, so we knew she would be at EMMC for the night, if not longer. However, the boys had been on their own much longer than we’d expected, so she agreed that I should go home. I prayed with her, and left.

The next morning, I went back to the hospital. By that time, she was in CCU, Room 568. I spoke with Laurel for a few minutes. She was very groggy. She told me that she was positive for Influenza A and pneumonia, and that the hospital wanted the boys tested for flu. I left her Kindle tablet for her to use if she felt up to it, prayed with her again, kissed her on the forehead, and left. That was the last time she was awake to talk with me. By the end of the day, Laurel was on life support and heavily sedated.

From this point onward, I’m going to use my Facebook posts to show the progression of Laurel’s saga. I’ll include other narrative as I want to, but I think that what the Lord has been doing and providing by his grace and mercy is amply shown in those posts. I want this story preserved for a testimony to my kids and to me, and yes, to Laurel, of the greatness of our God and of his amazing love for us, his children.

Bill MacDonald

February 13, 2019

The Compassion of the Lord

Isaiah 55 “Come, everyone who thirsts,
    come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
    come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
    without money and without price.
² Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
    and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
    and delight yourselves in rich food.
³ Incline your ear, and come to me;
    hear, that your soul may live;
and I will make with you an everlasting covenant,
    my steadfast, sure love for David.
⁴ Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples,
    a leader and commander for the peoples.
⁵ Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know,
    and a nation that did not know you shall run to you,
because of the Lord your God, and of the Holy One of Israel,
    for he has glorified you.

⁶ “Seek the Lord while he may be found;
    call upon him while he is near;
⁷ let the wicked forsake his way,
    and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him,
    and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
⁸ For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
⁹ For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

¹⁰ “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
    and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
    giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
¹¹ so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
    it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
    and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

¹² “For you shall go out in joy
    and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
    shall break forth into singing,
    and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
¹³ Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;
    instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;
and it shall make a name for the Lord,
    an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

Context is everything in the Bible, so you have to see the whole chapter to get the full picture, but these two verses do stand out for this post:
8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
⁹ For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

When my wife was hospitalized in February 2019, one of the first people I contacted was Dad. He listened intently, allowed me to ramble about details significant and insignificant, permitted my emotions without embarrassment, offered Scriptural consolation, and prayed with me over the phone. As the days passed, I called him or he called me.

His wife texted me to let me know he was available to me whenever I needed him, for he understood my situation better than I might realize. I pondered that, and spoke with him about it. We commented that I am now about the age he was when Mum had cancer. How did he manage working so far from where she was hospitalized? How he balance all the responsibilities? Of course, I was the last child at home and had my driver’s license and a car to use, so I was much more independent than my boys are, and my sister Judi was home from college and helping out in many ways. But, still. He said that it’s been so long that he doesn’t remember all that, but the important part is that God carried him through it (not his exact words, mind you, but that was the gist of it). We talked further of the grace, mercy, faithfulness, compassion, and love of God. We discussed the providence of God for our hearts and our everyday needs.

He prayed with me again, with his wife holding his hand as he prayed over the phone. God’s mercy shown to me as we could not be together. Dad’s suffering of 32 years ago not being wasted as he helps his youngest son through a similar trial. My wife’s not dying, but at the time of this conversation (early February), her chances of survival–humanly speaking–looked slim.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.

Thank God for the truth of His Word! To God be the glory!

It’s Saturday, and the place is hopping with kids and their parents. The arcade is alive with activity, a typical cliché, but what else can I say? That place has everything: a sports bar, two pizza and sandwich kitchens, a bowling alley, a half-dozen pool tables, a huge arcade of insanely fun games and “rides,” and music blaring and rocking until your head’s ready to explode.

It’s my younger son’s favorite place to go, but naturally, it’s expensive. Playing the arcade games requires a card that resembles a credit card, and judging from how much money the boy uses each time I take him there, it might as well be one. Still, in celebration of his adoption, he opts to go there, so that becomes our family tradition, and I pony up and pay out.

We start by playing pool. We all suck at it, but have fun anyway. I start off strong, but on my third turn, accidently sink the 8-ball, and M wins the first game. The second game lasted considerably longer, and C took my turn several times. Eventually, we tired of not finishing and ended our misery. Then it was time for some food before bowling.

I’m lactose intolerant and forgot my Lactaid tablets, so I had to munch on cheeseless crusts–what a joy that was– and some fries to give me enough energy to carry one, while the boys enjoyed yummy pizza. I’ll blame that for my horrible bowling scores. Again, we all played poorly, but we cheered one another on, trash talked when appropriate, and had a good time. I won both games, but not for lack of trying to lose.

The Gotcha Day Boy, M, won several toys from the arcade machines–very proud of himself. He gave one or two to his brother, whose Gotcha Day is in August. They got along well and the love was well expressed between them most of the day.

After bowling, they squeezed the last of my cash from me and returned to the arcade. I found a chair and tuned out the arcade as much as I could. I sensed the weariness of the whole day seeping in. It had begun with trying to sort out stuff at home. Then C and I had gone to the hospital to see his Momma. My wife was the most alert she’s been since being hospitalized almost a month ago for flu pneumonia. She was able to smile at him and interact with me a little, but I could see the worry and fear in her face–concern later verified by her father who was also there at the time. She doesn’t know why she’s there or what’s going on. I happened to see our doctor at the bowling alley, and he said she probably doesn’t even remember going to his office the day she was hospitalized, so she likely has no idea of anything that’s happened.

When C and I got home, flying high from the thrill of the visit, church friends were there to help fix a leaking pipe. The time with them was helpful and encouraging, as always. The upshot, though, was that the fix was temporary, so a long-term repair will be needed. For now, however, our shower is working better, and that’s a relief.

I needed a snooze before we headed out for Gotcha Day fun, and then we finally got going. So here I sat in the arcade, noises buzzing around me, kids running by, and I was buried in my cell phone. Suddenly, I thought, “Don’t be too quick to judge me, folks. You’ve no idea what’s going on in my life. You’ve no idea what a haven of happiness today is in the lives of my kids. These few minutes for me are one of the rare breaks I get from having to be responsible for what they’re doing. They’re sitting five feet from me on their favorite ride, laughing and not worrying about their Momma.”

From there we went to Governor’s restaurant for supper, and then home. M tried out the new shower. I fell asleep in my chair, and C put himself to bed. M followed, after giving me a report of the new showerhead. I stumbled upstairs a little before midnight.

As I fell into bed, I begged God for help.

Dear Mum,

You got sick with breast cancer when I was 13. You were very brave about the cancer treatments–the double mastectomy, the chemotherapy, and the radiation treatments. I’ve never known anyone as brave as you, Mum. Naturally, I’m biased, because you’re my beloved Mum! But you underwent those treatments while still driving that beastly Chevy Suburban–the one with no power steering, with the manual transmission that frequently got stuck in between gears, and that had poor heat–to and from the hospital and work. You kept teaching as much as possible, and I never heard you complain. What love! What faith in the goodness of God!

And what kindness you and Dad showed to me, telling me to go ahead and be thirteen, to have fun with my friends, even to the point of “forgetting” about your illness. That was such a gift, do you know that? To allow me the freedom to live without bearing your awful burden constantly? It was on my heart enough, but to know that if I didn’t have on my mind all the time, you wouldn’t begrudge me that was so freeing. I learned that from you, Mum, and gave our boys that freedom when Laurel got sick in February 2019. They miss enough, as it is, and don’t need to be made to feel guilty when they have so much fun with someone that they forget about Momma for a while. I could see the relief roll of them when I told them to enjoy themselves, just like you and Dad told me to do. See? God used your illness to help me be a better Dad to my kids. No wasted suffering. That’s something Priscilla reminds me about. She’s such a good Big Sister! 🙂

Well, Mum, that’s going to have to be all for now. Work responsibilities are calling. I love you still, even though you’ve been gone for all these years. Writing to you is therapeutic, and it helps me realize how much I learned from you in the short time I knew you. God blessed me by making me your son. He blessed countless others by bringing them in contact with you. Your testimony of God’s faithfulness and mercy continues to glorify God to this day! May I also bring God glory by how I trust in Him. Amen.

Dear Mum,

I never would have guessed that even as you lay dying in that hospital you were still teaching me lessons that would last a lifetime. Sure, there were the lessons about caring for someone and telling them that you love them every chance you get and not taking for granted the time you have with a loved one–the usual life lessons from an experience like that. But there were odder lessons that you taught me that are just now coming to light.

Seeing you doped up on morphine to the point that you didn’t know who you were or who I was, but you still knew the hymns of faith that you’d loved all your life, so that if I sang them, hummed them, or whistled them you’d calm down when the dope was wearing off and you were trying to pull out the tubes and get out of bed when you weren’t supposed to, taught me to be calm around my wife when she’s not herself during her hospitalization right now. I learned dealing with you in that state that I can speak firmly to Laurel as if she’s a little child, because I had to speak to you that way sometimes. It was weird then, because you were 51 and I was 17, but it had to happen or you would’ve hurt yourself. I’m older than Laurel, though not by much, but I can see that if I’m visiting her and she’s about to do something that will inadvertently hurt herself, I’ve got to be quick and firm to stop her. You taught me that, Mum.

Now, something you didn’t teach me is to get straight, candid answers from the doctors. My experience in losing you taught me that, though. And I found out recently that I wasn’t the only one of your children not to get straightforward expectations about your condition from the doctors treating you. We were all misled about your life expectancy, apparently, and I resented those doctors for a very long time. I guess they thought they were doing me a favor by not telling me the harsh truth that my beloved Mum was going to die, but I’ll tell you what, Mum: It was worse that I kept being told that you might survive the bone cancer, because I held a false hope in my heart that nearly killed my trust in God.

In the end, though, I learned to ask doctors for candid expectations. Dr. Robert Chavko gave me precisely that. Laurel’s first weekend in ICU, he told me that he did not expect her to survive the flu pneumonia, especially after the mild heart attack she suffered on February 9th. I told him that we had hundreds of people praying that he would be wrong about that. On the evening of the 11th, he called to tell me that for the first time since he began treating her four days earlier, he had hope that she would make it. That’s the day I began to hope she would make it, too. He was candid. I knew I could trust his judgment.

So Mum, these are some of the lessons you taught me while you were dying of cancer 32 years ago. I think there were many more than these. And Dad has been by my side in this trial, because he learned many lessons while you were dying, too. He prays for me daily, and we talk every other day or so. I’ve leaned heavily on him during this crisis; he’s invited me to do that, and I’m so grateful to him for that. He and Jo pray for us every day.

I post updates on Laurel’s condition on social media every day. God is sustaining the boys and me, and of course, Laurel, too. However, I would be lying if I said I’m not running ragged. My emotions are raw, and I want to crawl into a ball and hide from life. I want to sleep for two days without being responsible for anyone but me. I go to sleep every night and pass out from exhaustion, Mum, like you used to after supper. Then I wake up early the next day, filled with lists of things that have to be done. By the time my day is three-quarters finished, I’m exhausted again, and I’m anxious to be done with it. God help me, Mum, I’m worn out, and it’s only been three weeks! Lord, I need Thee every hour.

“How have I been an encouragement to you?” The surprise was evident on his face as he asked the question. Given his circumstances, I wasn’t surprised by his puzzlement, but he had asked, so I answered.

“By your knowledge of the Word of God,” I began.

“Well, I read it every day,” he interjected. “Not much else to do around here.”

I continued, “And by your thoughtful application of it to life circumstances. By the fact that when I was out sick you prayed for me and for my family. By the way you help me see the world from a perspective different from my own, but still with biblical understanding. And by the fact that you stay to talk theology and politics and sports and such. Mature conversation without vulgarity. It’s very encouraging and refreshing.”

He sat there, nodded his understanding, and then shared his thoughts with me. It was a good conversation, as always. He’s several years older than I am, and he has worked most of his life. He’s a smart man, clever, but never finished school, so he’s my student.

Would you pray for him? God knows what the desires of this man’s heart are. Salvation of loved ones is the one desire I can tell you. Thank you.

I went to sleep last night with loss on my mind. My mom died when I was 17 years old, and that loss burdened my heart and soul for a long time. Grief and sorrow were a painful journey; letting go of her was monumental. When I finally released her, she’d been gone for four years. Until I let go of her, though, my heart was not ready to heal nor move on with life. She died before I was ready to lose her, but I had to let her go, anyway.

Since when does anyone we love die when we’re ready to lose him or her? Mum was dying of cancer and we were losing her for a few months before she was gone, but it was still all-too-soon. She was only 51; I was still in high school. It was just a few months before my sister’s wedding. The heartache for all of us could not be measured, but for one saving grace: Mum’s suffering as over and she was with Jesus. She knew “Whom she believed, and was persuaded that He was able to keep that which was committed unto Him against that Day.”

That loss was 32 years ago. The one on my mind last night concerned someone else. My father turned 86 earlier this month. My interactions with Dad boil down to this: I love Dad and he loves me. Whenever we talk we tell each other that. Due to various reasons, we don’t talk or visit often, but when we do, I make sure to tell him that.

Dad has had a number of health issues arise in the last few years, and with each one, his recovery has been a little less full than the time before. I recognize that the ravages of time and disease are taking their toll on his body. He is a strong man, but he is weakening.

In the six years between Mum’s death and Dad’s remarriage, I enjoyed a special relationship with Dad. He and I had never been close before Mum died, but we grew close–partly out of necessity, I suppose, but it was a genuine love as father and son that I greatly enjoyed. I realize that he spoiled me, even to his own detriment at times. As Dad begins to weaken now, and as I see him much less than I used to, I treasure that time that I had with him, much the same way that I treasure the early years that Mum and I had together, and the time she and I spent at the Christian school in the early 1980s.

As our interactions have changed in the last few years, I have recognized that while he is my dad and I am his son–and that will never change this side of eternity–the nature of our relationship won’t return to what it was in that six years when he was a widower. He has a wife who takes care of him. Their life is different from mine was with him, and as those differences have played out, I no longer have the roles in his life that he needed from me 30 years ago.

I’m thankful for my dad, and for the life God’s granted him. I’m sorry to see his health weakening, and that I cannot be more involved in helping him at this point in our lives. At the same time, given all the circumstances involved, I’m beginning to let Dad go. The nature of the relationship that he and I had when we were closest will never return to that point, so there’s no reason to wish for that. I’ve let that go. He is never going to return to haying like he did even five years ago, so there’s no reason to wish for that. I’m letting that go. He’s not likely to return to using his workshop, so there’s little reason to hope for that. I’m letting that go. The list goes on and on, really.

It’s HARD. But this world isn’t his home, so there’s no point in hanging on to the things that hold him in it. I’m not ready for Dad to leave this world, but when God calls Dad to his REAL home, Dad’ll go, and I’ll have to let him go.

I had a conversation today with a man that wants to learn how to code the scripting he already knows how to do. At least, I think that’s what he was saying.

He was saying that when he entered middle school, he was very anti-Macintosh computer, so he always insisted on doing all his work with pen-and-paper. I laughed at him, and he took it good-naturedly, understanding that he was from a generation of computer privilege compared to mine, and that the right to refuse classroom laptops was a luxury I never had to confront.

Once PC laptops became available, he changed his tune. From that point on, he lived, breathed, and developed his interest in all things computers. He learned scripting, and now, many years later, he wants to learn coding. He recognizes the opportunities for his life beyond what he’s known thus far, and sees dollar signs in the future if he earns some credentials in the cyber world.

His knowledge of the technical surpasses mine, and I got lost several times as the conversation wore on. The title of this little piece seemed fitting, therefore, especially since I’m never far from a pun.

Where do your childhood interests take you in life? What pursuits have you put on hold for a time and then returned to when your circumstances changed and made their pursuit more palatable or profitable? Are there unfulfilled dreams in your life that could realistically be awakened to fruition? What steps could you take to make it a reality?

I’m a sinner living a righteous man’s life. 

It would be identity theft, except for the fact that the man gave me his identity on purpose, willingly, intentionally. I never even planned on asking him for it. In fact, I didn’t know he existed, or that I needed his identity, but he knew. He woke me up from a death sleep, and then I knew, too. I asked him for his identity. I told him mine was worthless–I had nothing to give him in return for his, but somehow it seemed he realized that already. 

Whatever I had done before–education, volunteering, charitable giving, working hard, good deeds, wealth–looked like manure and ashes compared to the beauty of my new identity. There wasn’t a single blemish of envy, anger, lust, discontentment, sorrow, impatience, greed, pride, arrogance, gluttony, sloth, laziness, or idolatry anywhere. 

It is the Truth of Christmas. It is the Gift of God that I, sinner that I am, can receive the righteousness of Jesus my Savior, so that when God the Father looks upon me He sees His Son’s righteousness and not my sin. I live in the righteousness of God, forgiven, justified by grace through faith. It would be identity theft if God were not the giver, by his Spirit.

“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins ² in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— ³ among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. ⁴ But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, ⁵ even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— ⁶ and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, ⁷ so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. ⁸ For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, ⁹ not a result of works, so that no one may boast. ¹⁰ For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” ~Ephesians 2:1-10 (ESV) http://www.biblegateway.com