Our new cat, Gilbert Keith Chesterton (named after the writer), who daily demonstrates to me the rest of God. I quit my part-time job almost two months ago. This new season was borne partly out of necessity for we were doing a lot of traveling this summer, as well as Steven's unconventional night shift which makes for less evenings together at home. I burst with, "I don't work!" when others inquire after my occupation, and then laugh at how ridiculous it sounds. It hasn't been difficult explaining to people what I do with my time, but it has been annoying to fight the droning conscience saying, "you should do something more...you should be something more." However, I think the Father wanted to slough off the entire idea of work from my identity. I cannot work to please man anymore, which reveals how much I've also tried to please God. (We know from the past I've been an employee of the Religious Works Department in the