As I sit here to write, I realize how long it's been. And I think of all I've done, been through, and experienced since I was last here. It's not been anything earth shattering or devastating, but I would say it's been a stretching, faith-testing, prayerful time where answers have not come easily and days of waiting have stretched like rubber bands into a time when I feel I might snap; and even then the answers often don't come.
It seems that recently God has been silent on the big ticket tangible items I've been praying about - things like jobs, finances, clogged sewer pipes and car repair bills, to name a few.
Yet I've noticed something about my cries for mercy regarding the intangibles I so often throw His way.
A prayer about a strained relationship.
A plea for a broken heart.
A request to heal my emotions.
An admission of an unthankful spirit which likes to complain more than it likes to count its blessings.
It's with striking certainty that I realize those prayers get answered quicker than I can say "now you're getting it". Heart wounds are bound up, emotions get set right, relationships are restored and thankfulness can abound...all for the asking.
And my eyes are opened and I actually learn something. I learn that God isn't as concerned about what bill I pay, what job I have, or if I have to get a ride to work because the car broke down. Those things are a part of life, and they come with the package deal that says, "You're Human."
He is more concerned, though, about who I am.
And from what I can tell, that ranks higher than what I do.
So you see, I tell myself, God isn't silent. He's there, just as He's always been. He's still working. He's still healing. He's always listening. And this waiting game? It has a purpose. It has a reason. He's using it to build character. He's using it to teach patience.
He's using it to make me more like Him.
And that, I tell myself, is well worth the wait.
1.23.2013
the art of the short(er) story
I talk too much.
Often.
Granted, there are some people who don't mind this. They can rant and rave and ramble as well as I can and we get along just fine.
But there are other folks I talk to, talk way too much to, and after I get done my monologue and there's finally silence hanging in the air, I'm kicking myself for taking 17 sentences to say what I could have said in 5. In my head I replay my run-on paragraphs, my lack of pertinent information, my silly anecdotes that did nothing but take up precious time, and my lengthening tale of woe that just went on and on ....when actually, I'd made my point minutes if not hours before.
I see this as a sign of weakness, because I don't think it's an especially attractive quality.
We all have people like this in our lives. The ones you see coming down the hall and you think, "I need to dart into the rest room before she reaches me because I just don't have time for a story..." or, "Don't make eye contact because you know once he starts talking, it's going to be at least 10 minutes."
I don't want to be one of those people.
So I'm going to need to work on this.
Truth to tell, I'm finding it to be more of a conscious effort than I thought it would be. For me, telling a short story is something of an art form that I am growing to appreciate. I'm learning that I can say just a few lines about something and the hearer is really quite content. I'm learning that the less I talk, the more it gives someone else the space to do the same. And I'm learning that me saying less allows me to listen more.
Which is always a good thing.
This is something that I've sensed God nudging me about and that I've taken on as a personal challenge for 2013; to be others-centered, and to not be so worried about getting my two cents in that I don't really take time to stop and listen to what someone is telling me. To not just be planning what I'm going to say the whole time someone is speaking to me. To practice speaking succinctly and thereby speaking less, yet hearing more.
If talking is art, then listening is even better art.
I'm all ears.
Often.
Granted, there are some people who don't mind this. They can rant and rave and ramble as well as I can and we get along just fine.
But there are other folks I talk to, talk way too much to, and after I get done my monologue and there's finally silence hanging in the air, I'm kicking myself for taking 17 sentences to say what I could have said in 5. In my head I replay my run-on paragraphs, my lack of pertinent information, my silly anecdotes that did nothing but take up precious time, and my lengthening tale of woe that just went on and on ....when actually, I'd made my point minutes if not hours before.
I see this as a sign of weakness, because I don't think it's an especially attractive quality.
We all have people like this in our lives. The ones you see coming down the hall and you think, "I need to dart into the rest room before she reaches me because I just don't have time for a story..." or, "Don't make eye contact because you know once he starts talking, it's going to be at least 10 minutes."
I don't want to be one of those people.
So I'm going to need to work on this.
Truth to tell, I'm finding it to be more of a conscious effort than I thought it would be. For me, telling a short story is something of an art form that I am growing to appreciate. I'm learning that I can say just a few lines about something and the hearer is really quite content. I'm learning that the less I talk, the more it gives someone else the space to do the same. And I'm learning that me saying less allows me to listen more.
Which is always a good thing.
This is something that I've sensed God nudging me about and that I've taken on as a personal challenge for 2013; to be others-centered, and to not be so worried about getting my two cents in that I don't really take time to stop and listen to what someone is telling me. To not just be planning what I'm going to say the whole time someone is speaking to me. To practice speaking succinctly and thereby speaking less, yet hearing more.
If talking is art, then listening is even better art.
I'm all ears.
1.22.2013
the iron-y of it all
I like to be prepared.
And I hate to iron in the morning.
So, I have started to advance-plan my wardrobe and get out the clothes for my workday the night before I plan to wear them. This way I can do any ironing, if necessary, the evening before and avoid hauling out the board and accompanying apparatus during my rushed morning routine where I barely have enough time to dip my mascara wand twice, much less put a hot metal plate on something and risk scorching it to death.
One morning last week I was all set. I had the perfect outfit all ready to go. As I put it on, I took notice of how perfectly I'd pressed it the night before; not a wrinkle anywhere. But as I turned away from the closet, something up on the top shelf trapped under a pile of poorly folded clothing caught my eye.
It was a scarf. And it wasn't just any scarf; it was the perfect scarf to go with my outfit.
But there was only one problem.
It needed ironing. And it was morning.
What's a girl to do?
I did the only thing I could do. I decided to forego brushing my teeth to give me the extra three minutes I would need for the scarf. ;)
As you might guess, this is often also the scenario in my day. Try as I might, I can be all set and planned out and yet not too far into it starts
the interruptions,
the disasters,
the delays,
and the inconveniences.
And here's where I have a choice. I can either balk at those unplanned events, or I can let God do His work through them. Those events are allowed into - if not sometimes downright sent into - my life to shape me; to mold me into who God wants me to be in a way that couldn't happen if they didn't happen. They are refining tools, meant for my good and never for my harm. This is why it says in James 1:2-4,
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. "
The funny thing is, after I had done all that work, in my hurry I almost left the scarf on the ironing board. That would have been a waste. I would have sacrificed brushing my teeth for nothing.
But instead, I took the scarf and put it on and let it change my look for the better. That ironed scarf which once seemed an inconvenience now added color to my outfit where before there had been none.
And I smiled. It's the same with life. God allows trials to come in order to make us more colorful than we were before. It's up to me to embrace them, wrap them around me, and allow them to do their change-work in me.
So there I had it. A wrinkly scarf had turned into a spiritual lesson.
And the irony was not lost on me.
And I hate to iron in the morning.
So, I have started to advance-plan my wardrobe and get out the clothes for my workday the night before I plan to wear them. This way I can do any ironing, if necessary, the evening before and avoid hauling out the board and accompanying apparatus during my rushed morning routine where I barely have enough time to dip my mascara wand twice, much less put a hot metal plate on something and risk scorching it to death.
One morning last week I was all set. I had the perfect outfit all ready to go. As I put it on, I took notice of how perfectly I'd pressed it the night before; not a wrinkle anywhere. But as I turned away from the closet, something up on the top shelf trapped under a pile of poorly folded clothing caught my eye.
It was a scarf. And it wasn't just any scarf; it was the perfect scarf to go with my outfit.
But there was only one problem.
It needed ironing. And it was morning.
What's a girl to do?
I did the only thing I could do. I decided to forego brushing my teeth to give me the extra three minutes I would need for the scarf. ;)
As you might guess, this is often also the scenario in my day. Try as I might, I can be all set and planned out and yet not too far into it starts
the interruptions,
the disasters,
the delays,
and the inconveniences.
And here's where I have a choice. I can either balk at those unplanned events, or I can let God do His work through them. Those events are allowed into - if not sometimes downright sent into - my life to shape me; to mold me into who God wants me to be in a way that couldn't happen if they didn't happen. They are refining tools, meant for my good and never for my harm. This is why it says in James 1:2-4,
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. "
The funny thing is, after I had done all that work, in my hurry I almost left the scarf on the ironing board. That would have been a waste. I would have sacrificed brushing my teeth for nothing.
But instead, I took the scarf and put it on and let it change my look for the better. That ironed scarf which once seemed an inconvenience now added color to my outfit where before there had been none.
And I smiled. It's the same with life. God allows trials to come in order to make us more colorful than we were before. It's up to me to embrace them, wrap them around me, and allow them to do their change-work in me.
So there I had it. A wrinkly scarf had turned into a spiritual lesson.
And the irony was not lost on me.
1.05.2013
the resolution I didn't mean to make
It's the New Year and people's promises abound to change this, change that, stop doing A, B, and C and refuse to participate anymore in X, Y, and Z.
I've resolved to stop making resolutions, because I usually don't keep them and I end up letting myself down. Again. And who needs that?
So my overnight sensation of giving up caffeine and aspartame had nothing to do with making a New Year's resolution because I didn't even see it coming. It wasn't in my plan. I didn't even know I wanted to give up those things.
But the other day found me fighting an internal infection, and part of the treatment was to drink water. By the gallon. And as I was drinking this water and not drinking my usual fare of Diet Coke and caffeinated iced tea with artifical sweetener, I had an epiphany on one of my numerous trips to the bathroom.
"I should be doing this - putting good things in my body - all the time. Not just when I'm sick."
I realized the backwards way I was doing things. As soon as I had a little scare that something might not be right inside, I dove into healthy eating and drinking. And my standard course of action is that when the problem goes away, I go right back to my semi-unhealthy habits and just keep plugging away until the next time some body part needs my attention.
It looks like that will change, on a liquid level anyway, in 2013 as for some reason the determination to do this thing has stuck. Even through the headaches and the wanting to reach for a Diet Coke, I have noticed an unfounded resolve surface many times during the day that keeps telling me the way I was doing things just wasn't healthy and that this is the year to change.
So I'll go with it. I have nothing to lose and maybe some health to gain.
Is this lucky '13? Maybe. Is this God watching out for me? Of this I am certain. He always has my best in mind.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step and, apparently, one unexpected resolution.
And those are the ones that stick.
I've resolved to stop making resolutions, because I usually don't keep them and I end up letting myself down. Again. And who needs that?
So my overnight sensation of giving up caffeine and aspartame had nothing to do with making a New Year's resolution because I didn't even see it coming. It wasn't in my plan. I didn't even know I wanted to give up those things.
But the other day found me fighting an internal infection, and part of the treatment was to drink water. By the gallon. And as I was drinking this water and not drinking my usual fare of Diet Coke and caffeinated iced tea with artifical sweetener, I had an epiphany on one of my numerous trips to the bathroom.
"I should be doing this - putting good things in my body - all the time. Not just when I'm sick."
I realized the backwards way I was doing things. As soon as I had a little scare that something might not be right inside, I dove into healthy eating and drinking. And my standard course of action is that when the problem goes away, I go right back to my semi-unhealthy habits and just keep plugging away until the next time some body part needs my attention.
It looks like that will change, on a liquid level anyway, in 2013 as for some reason the determination to do this thing has stuck. Even through the headaches and the wanting to reach for a Diet Coke, I have noticed an unfounded resolve surface many times during the day that keeps telling me the way I was doing things just wasn't healthy and that this is the year to change.
So I'll go with it. I have nothing to lose and maybe some health to gain.
Is this lucky '13? Maybe. Is this God watching out for me? Of this I am certain. He always has my best in mind.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step and, apparently, one unexpected resolution.
And those are the ones that stick.
12.10.2012
the perfect gift
I can remember a Christmas years ago when I was picking out a gift for a very close friend. We had grown up together and were like sisters, really. I knew her so well that it was going to be simple to find just the perfect present for her.
And find it I did.
A lovely peach sweater.
Delighted with my purchase, I could hardly wait until I was able to give it to her. I wrapped it in traditional Christmas paper, and we planned a time to get together with our husbands and exchange gifts.
When that time came, we gathered at my friend's home and casually put our boxes under the tree, waiting a bit to open them.
I just knew she was going to love what I had chosen for her.
Later when she and I were ready to open our gifts, we took the ones meant for us from each other and started tearing off the wrapping. But as I took off the lid off my box, I became instantly confused. I saw peach. I saw sweater. I saw my gift to her in her box to me....??
I panicked and checked the wrapping paper I'd just torn off. It definitely was NOT the wrapping paper I'd put on....
I looked up and saw the same surprised reaction on her face as we simultaneously pulled identical peach sweaters out of our boxes.
And then we laughed hysterically while our husbands rolled their eyes.
Yes, we knew each other that well.
If two friends can know each other so completely and give each other the same "perfect gift", I realize how much more God, my Creator, knows me and knows how to give me exactly what I need, exactly when I need it. It may come wrapped as a trial, a joy, or a consequence. It may be just what I'm hoping for, or something I don't even know that I can't live without yet. But it fits perfect every time, never breaks, never wears out, and lasts for eternity without batteries.
It's designed with me in mind.
And makes me more like Him.
That's definitely a gift that keeps on giving.
And find it I did.
A lovely peach sweater.
Delighted with my purchase, I could hardly wait until I was able to give it to her. I wrapped it in traditional Christmas paper, and we planned a time to get together with our husbands and exchange gifts.
When that time came, we gathered at my friend's home and casually put our boxes under the tree, waiting a bit to open them.
I just knew she was going to love what I had chosen for her.
Later when she and I were ready to open our gifts, we took the ones meant for us from each other and started tearing off the wrapping. But as I took off the lid off my box, I became instantly confused. I saw peach. I saw sweater. I saw my gift to her in her box to me....??
I panicked and checked the wrapping paper I'd just torn off. It definitely was NOT the wrapping paper I'd put on....
I looked up and saw the same surprised reaction on her face as we simultaneously pulled identical peach sweaters out of our boxes.
And then we laughed hysterically while our husbands rolled their eyes.
Yes, we knew each other that well.
If two friends can know each other so completely and give each other the same "perfect gift", I realize how much more God, my Creator, knows me and knows how to give me exactly what I need, exactly when I need it. It may come wrapped as a trial, a joy, or a consequence. It may be just what I'm hoping for, or something I don't even know that I can't live without yet. But it fits perfect every time, never breaks, never wears out, and lasts for eternity without batteries.
It's designed with me in mind.
And makes me more like Him.
That's definitely a gift that keeps on giving.
11.15.2012
lead me (like) a stray
Last night, we had a stray dog at our back door. In the twelve years we've lived here, that has never happened; a dog just showing up and hanging around like it had lived here forever.
I noticed it when I heard trash cans being jostled around outside late in the evening. Our dog Lucy, the rightful owner of the property, had been laying in the family room but now approached the sliding glass door and let out a low growl...with it being dark outside, I had no idea what was on the other side of said door. I turned on the outside light and held my breath. There standing on the flagstone was the tallest, thinnest, gangliest black lab I'd ever seen. He looked intently in at me and started to bark because, I presume, I wasn't letting him in. Shame on me.
After a few minutes- which probably seemed like an eternity to Lucy because at this point she had worn a hole in the carpet spinning excited circles - the lab just flopped down on the patio, made itself comfortable, and looked up at me inside as if I was to make the next move because he was here to stay.
Something about his assumption that if he made himself at home we would meet all his needs - even though we didn't know him - made me totally dig this dog. It was as if he was adopting us, whether we liked it or not. Fortunately for us, the relationship only lasted about an hour until he packed up and moved along, hopefully home to his real family and dog bowl.
Funny how that dog made me think about my relationship with God. Do I come to Jesus (as I should) with that same assurance that if I just flop down and look up, I'll be taken care of ? There was no pretention with this animal - he didn't clean up or 'fess up or even bring us a present. There was just him, just as he was. And somehow he knew he'd found a safe place.
I thought about Fido's eager trust a lot today. I want to be like that with God; assuming He's always there, assuming He always cares about me, assuming He's always ready to take me in and clean me up a bit - because He is. I want to practice being in His presence like a gangly stray dog that wasn't worried one bit if he was perfect or not. He just was.
Seems like a pretty good way to be.
I noticed it when I heard trash cans being jostled around outside late in the evening. Our dog Lucy, the rightful owner of the property, had been laying in the family room but now approached the sliding glass door and let out a low growl...with it being dark outside, I had no idea what was on the other side of said door. I turned on the outside light and held my breath. There standing on the flagstone was the tallest, thinnest, gangliest black lab I'd ever seen. He looked intently in at me and started to bark because, I presume, I wasn't letting him in. Shame on me.
After a few minutes- which probably seemed like an eternity to Lucy because at this point she had worn a hole in the carpet spinning excited circles - the lab just flopped down on the patio, made itself comfortable, and looked up at me inside as if I was to make the next move because he was here to stay.
Something about his assumption that if he made himself at home we would meet all his needs - even though we didn't know him - made me totally dig this dog. It was as if he was adopting us, whether we liked it or not. Fortunately for us, the relationship only lasted about an hour until he packed up and moved along, hopefully home to his real family and dog bowl.
Funny how that dog made me think about my relationship with God. Do I come to Jesus (as I should) with that same assurance that if I just flop down and look up, I'll be taken care of ? There was no pretention with this animal - he didn't clean up or 'fess up or even bring us a present. There was just him, just as he was. And somehow he knew he'd found a safe place.
I thought about Fido's eager trust a lot today. I want to be like that with God; assuming He's always there, assuming He always cares about me, assuming He's always ready to take me in and clean me up a bit - because He is. I want to practice being in His presence like a gangly stray dog that wasn't worried one bit if he was perfect or not. He just was.
Seems like a pretty good way to be.
11.14.2012
hope
Sometimes when life is dark and I'm not sure when I'll see the sun again, at just the right moment the sky cracks open a bit; enough so that I can see there's still blue above the clouds and the sun is still shining just the same, no matter what I'm going through.
And hope is born.
And hope is born.
photo credit- Chris Coulton
Just like a weed growing in the pavement, hope only needs the tiniest of breaks in the tough times to wiggle up through. I've always been amazed at what the smallest amount of hope can do; what life it can bring to a soul. A little goes a long way.
That's because -
hope says all is not lost.
Hope says things will turn around one day.
Hope says I'm not forgotten; God has heard me.
And that sustains me, especially when the clouds close back up and the blue sky is gone.
I'll remember I've felt hope; I'll remember I've seen God.
And I'll remember that no matter what, the Son is still shining.
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