How God provides in Quarters


     As an assistant librarian, I run the cash register at the book fair in our library. Elementary students come in to the fair with cold hard cash, starry eyes wanting to buy it all.  When they’ve made their choices and come up to me to purchase their books, their money comes in usually one of two forms.  Sometimes I am handed a wad of bills wrapped so tightly that I have to forcibly straighten them out with the heel of my hand so they’ll lay flat in the cash drawer.  Other students have clearly shaken empty their piggy bank just for the occasion, which allows all manner of change to spill across the counter as they pay for their SpongeBob book.  It takes all kinds.

     One particular day, I had quite a line of three-foot high customers waiting to buy their items.   I noticed that I was running out of cash in the drawer quickly.  It seemed that everyone needed change that morning.  I felt a little rise of panic with each transaction because I knew that soon, the register's drawer would be empty and I would be stranded.  With an ever impatient line of small shoppers, I couldn't exactly stroll around school looking for small bills and coins.  I was going to run out of money long before I ran out of customers.

     I had almost made it through when one of the last shoppers came up to the register.  I held my breath as I rang up the sale and watched the empty cash drawer spring open.  I was hoping against hope that he wouldn’t need change.  But, to pay for his three dollar book, he placed a crumpled ten dollar bill in my hand.  It sounds crazy, but my eyes welled up for a moment because all the money in the register was gone, and I had no other resource to draw from.  I needed seven dollars, and I had absolutely nothing to give this little boy looking at me with hand held out, waiting for his change that I had promised him.

     At that very moment, another student burst forth out of the crowd.  Breathless and excited, he threw a book on the counter and said, “Here, I want to buy this!”  Such inspirational words from a second grader. With that, he produced a Ziploc bag – the preferred wallet of every young child – and shoved it toward me.

I saw quarters.  Lots of them.

I started to hope.

The price of the book he wanted to buy?  Seven dollars.

The total of the quarters he gave me?  Seven dollars.

The amount of change that I needed for that other student…..?  Seven dollars.

Those quarters never made it into the cash drawer.  Incredulous at the miracle playing out in front of me, I simply transferred the beautiful shiny circles from one student to the other.   Help had arrived at the moment I needed it, from a place I wouldn't have expected it.

But I sensed a deeper truth.  One that related not only to cash flow but to life in general.

If I hadn’t been in need, I couldn’t have seen the provision.

If I'm never without, I'll never recognize the Source of my supply.

None of us want to be there, in the desperate need, not knowing where the next whatever-it-may-be will come from. Being in need is unattractive, uncomfortable, undesirable.  Yet sometimes I must to get to the end of myself, my resources, my abundance in order to be reminded how God provides.

Then my eyes are opened, making me aware. I take time to recall inspirational Bible verses that I’ve read, assuring me that God always supplies all I need.

Then I bow my heart in humble thankfulness, being rescued once again.
Then I get to see, really see, the miracle that comes in quarters. 

rough stuff

 

0001

The other day I saw a sign like this while I was driving.  The surface I was currently on was fine.  No problems or potholes;  just plain, even pavement, the way a road is supposed to be.  If it weren’t for the sign, I’d have had no idea that the consistently smooth surface touching my treads was about to quickly end. 

The first thought that hit me was, “Wow, wouldn’t it be nice if we could have a sign like this appear in life when things are about to turn on a dime?”  How handy would that be?  Wouldn’t it be helpful if we could at least get a decent warning on a bright yellow piece of metal when things were about to go south?

But we don’t.   The rough stuff comes when we least expect it; like when things are going fine, or the day is really great.  Then out of left field…comes the pain.  The heartache.  The unexpected twist of a plan.

With no sign to warn us of trouble.

Jesus does tell us there will be trouble.  It’s an unavoidable circumstance in this thing called life.  Sometimes I cause my own trouble, sometimes it happens to me.  But however it gets here, get here it does and then it’s mine to deal with.  Mine and God’s.  This is why my relationship with Him is so important.  Without Him, a rough road is just that;  uncomfortable parts of my journey that I must simply endure until the pavement gets smooth again. 

But with Him, the rough road becomes a classroom.  He can use the broken pavement, the potholes, the uneven surfaces to teach me things that I need to learn, if I’ll allow myself to grow and be changed instead of just complaining that this is making for a very difficult ride.

Then one day…….I’ll find the surface under my feet sure and solid again.  He knows I’m ready to continue on.  

And I breathe deep.

Construction’s over.

For now.  

having a moment

 

I stand stock still in the rising sun, clutching my container of hot tea steaming and drinking in the deep chill of a fall morning.  I have a few precious moments to dwell alone here between school bus rounds; between silence and mayhem, between quiet and loudness, between peace and playground pounding with happy children spilling off big yellow buses. 

As I watch, the sun journeys and still it amazes me to think that no, the sun is not the item in motion; this planet huge is the one propelling forth.   That in and of itself is a miracle.  I feel an invitation to life as its rays peek over the tips of leafy trees, beckoning me to include myself in the wonder that is now, today, this moment.

All of life is an invitation.  From the moment God designed me to come to earth, He has been asking me to participate in this amazement of being a living, breathing soul who walks and laughs, moves and works, feels joy and sorrow, wonder and pain.  It’s in quiet moments like these, when I will to slow down the distractions around me, draw myself in and allow Him to speak, that I get a glimpse of what being is all about.  

I discover that being is….

….living the daily moments that go too quickly by.   

….moments of awe at the natural order of things I have become achingly used to.

….knowing life as good because God gave it as a gift to me.

I wrap these thoughts around me, cloak myself in them for the day.  I press my mind into these truths and cling to this God-connection I’ve just made, knowing that I will need it later to see me through the ordinaries where I live.  The tether to Him must be strong as I go through the bill paying, grocery shopping, laundry rotating, car driving, problem solving scenes of my life.  It’s what gets me through.

I know I’ve discovered a nugget standing here, a glimpse of pure gold that seems to crystallize all that is around me.  It clarifies life and shows me that when I stop and pay attention, the glory shines.

I hear the roar of a bus.   I hear the whisper of God.

And so my day begins.  His moments sustain me.

What a gift.

when He fills your empty hands


 

As an assistant librarian, I run the cash register at the book fair in our library. Elementary students come in to the fair with cold hard cash, starry eyes wanting to buy it all.  When they’ve made their choices and come up to me to purchase their books, their money comes in usually one of two forms.  Sometimes I am handed a wad of bills wrapped so tightly that I have to forcibly straighten them out with the heel of my hand so they’ll lay flat in the cash drawer.  Other students have clearly shaken empty their piggy bank just for the occasion, which allows all manner of change to spill across the counter as they pay for their SpongeBob book.  It takes all kinds.

One particular day, I had quite a line of three-foot customers waiting to buy their items.   I noticed that I was running out of cash in the drawer quickly.  It seemed that everyone needed change that morning.  I felt a little rise of panic with each transaction because I knew that soon, the register's drawer would be empty and I would be stranded.  With an ever impatient line of small shoppers, I couldn't exactly stroll around school looking for small bills and coins.  I was going to run out of money long before I ran out of customers.

I had almost made it through when one of the last shoppers came up to the register.  I held my breath as I rang up the sale and watched the empty cash drawer spring open.  I was hoping against hope that he wouldn’t need change.  But, to pay for his three dollar book, he placed a crumpled ten dollar bill in my hand.  It sounds crazy, but my eyes welled up for a moment because all the money in the register was gone, and I had no other resource to draw from.  I needed seven dollars, and I had absolutely nothing to give this little boy looking at me with hand held out, waiting for his change that I had promised him.

At that very moment, another student burst forth out of the crowd.  Breathless and excited, he threw a book on the counter and said, “Here, I want to buy this!”  With that, he produced a Ziploc bag – the preferred wallet of every second grader – and shoved it toward me.

I saw quarters.  Lots of them. 

I started to hope.

The price of the book he wanted to buy?  Seven dollars.

The total of the quarters he gave me?  Seven dollars.

The amount of change that I needed for that other student…..?  Seven dollars.

Those quarters never made it into the cash drawer.  Incredulous at the miracle playing out in front of me, I simply transferred the beautiful shiny circles from one student to the other.   Help had arrived at the moment I needed it, from a place I wouldn't have expected it.

But I sensed a deeper truth.  One that related to cash flow but to life in general.

If I hadn’t been in need, I couldn’t have seen the provision.

If I'm never without, I'll never recognize the Source of my supply.

None of us want to be there, in the desperate need, not knowing where the next whatever-it-may-be will come from. Being in need is unattractive, uncomfortable, undesirable.  Yet sometimes I must to get to the end of myself, my resources, my abundance in order to be reminded Who it is that is providing for me.

Then my eyes are opened, makes me aware.

Then I bow my heart in humble thankfulness, being rescued once again.

Then I get to see, really see, the miracle that comes in quarters. 













lemon squeeze




I drive through McDonald’s every day at lunch time, because their large size iced teas are currently available for a dollar.  For me, iced tea lover that I am, that’s a steal.  I don’t have to make the tea, I don’t have to brew it, I just have to show up with my debit card and tell the person on the other end of the microphone what I want. Easy peasy. And my order is always the same – a large unsweetened with three Splenda and two lemon.

It always make me smile when I order a drink with lemon at McDonald’s or any other eatery – because as far as I can tell, they simply drop the lemon wedges in and think that will do the trick. (And maybe I should be thankful for this – the less handling of my lemon by strangers the more sanitary, me thinks.)  But all you get from that maneuver is floating fruit; the flavor has not been released yet.

How does it get released?  Say it with me – you squeeze it.  And you do so pretty hard, too, to get all the juice out.

If I were the lemon, one might hear a loud “Ouch!”, “Stop it!” or “Hands off! Enough is enough already!” 

Let’s face it.  It hurts to be squeezed.  But let's also admit it; that’s when the best in us comes out.  Squeezing may not be pleasant, but it’s necessary.   It releases the good stuff, the stuff we were brought here for, the stuff that is going to liven up the drink of life and make a difference in how it tastes.  It’s not easy, and most days we’d prefer to remain comforable floating fruit.  But then we’d never get the chance to see what we’re really made of, and how our lives can make a difference.

Squeezing means growth.  It means we’re alive and well and going through something that some day down the road God will use to have us help others.  I’ve felt the pressure of a squeeze many times in my life.  Currently, my squeeze looks like a long period of waiting, as if the fingers that are nudging the goodness out of that lemon wedge just keep pressing and pressing and I really wish it was over but it’s not….

This has been one long squeeze.

Let’s turn the story to you. 

Tell me about a time when you were squeezed..... How did it feel, and what did you learn through it?  Share in the comments and let’s keep the conversation going!

creative passion


I had a lot of conversations with my son, a college sophomore, this past weekend, as he is trying to determine what major he should declare.   We talked a lot about talent and passion and what part that should play in his decision.  That left me with swirling thoughts running circles in my head – all to do with this writing pursuit of mine.  I had to ask myself the hard question -  is it really a passion of mine, or is it just a means to an end to be known for something? 
 
I tend to define someone’s passion as what they naturally gravitate toward in their free time; what they’d choose to be doing when they could be doing anything.  Yes, writing does fit in there for me, but I notice that I often have to talk myself into actually going and doing it.
 

I remember a time not that long ago when writing a story or a blog post seemed simpler because at the time, there was no weightiness attributed to it. It was just me, writing something that, if it succeeded or failed, didn't much matter. But now it does.  Now that it means something to my life's pursuit or is supposed to propel me forward toward fame and fortune, I find myself shying away from it and at times am terrified to even try.  This is, of course, ridiculous and I’m sure there is some psychological term for the way my brain is processing this weird way of thinking.   I just haven't had time to look it up.

I read a lot about Ann Voskamp this weekend. She's quite famous and influential, and no one had even heard of her a few years ago. Her book, One Thousand Gifts, was one that I really didn’t like when I read it the first time - I just couldn’t get through it for some reason.  The other day when I picked it up at my sister’s house and really read the title, I realized that this book is about exactly what I believe in and would choose to write about given the opportunity- seeking gifts every day that God gives in the ordinary things that are already right around me.  It was odd to me, this connection; hers is one of maybe two books in my entire life that I have put down before finishing, and it turns out to be exactly about what I believe in and try to practice every day.   

I never knew.  Probably because I didn’t read the whole book.  And now I wish I had. (I have it on order from the library....) 
 
She started with a gratitude journal, and God used it to change her whole life and give her fodder for a book that has taken off and become a New York Times bestseller many times over.  Beginning that journal probably seemed like a small thing to her, and God took it and made it something grand.  We never know in a day what we will start or do or say that God will take and run with like a kite in the breeze  - letting the string out ever farther so it can fly ever higher.
 
Let's make every moment count.  Let's not miss an opportunity.  Let's dare to fly.
 
 
 

 

whatever you do....look up

My son was a camp counselor this past summer.  He worked the ropes course, which was an entirely new experience for him.   I visited him one day at the camp, and he graciously took me down into the woods where things like rope swings and zip lines and rock walls and vertical playgrounds were set up.

Clearly, these are things I would rather observe than do.

For a while, I stood with him at the base of the rock wall.  It was huge. It was high. As I was watching, I saw these little kids shimmying up so fast and so confidently that it amazed me.


It took me a moment, but I noticed something about each child going up.  Unlike what I would have been doing in order to measure my progress and welcome panic, they never looked back and they never looked down. 

The key to their success in getting to the top was that they only looked up.

Not once did one of them glance back to see how far they'd come or how dangerous their climb actually was or the risks they were taking or the probability that they shouldn't be trusting fake rocks jutting out of a thin wooden frame.....and on and on it could go.

That's what I would have been thinking while I was climbing that insanely high, precarious looking wall.

But not them.  They embraced no excuses. They just climbed.

Watching from my safe, risk-less spot on the ground, every last one of those kids got to the top just fine. When they arrived, there was a counselor there to give them a huge high five and congratulate their success.   It was a well-earned accolade.

I couldn't help but make the jump to the spiritual parallel.  Life is all about looking up, not looking back.  I need to remember that God's at the top of the wall, cheering me on, just waiting until one day when He can give me the high five that says, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

The climb will go easier if I don't worry so much about where I've been, but instead concentrate on where I'm going.

And the best way to get there is by looking up.
















The Couch Rebels book is up for sale!


  And away we go!  Tuesday, August 14th, was the release date for the ebook, Couch Rebels.  It quickly rose to best-seller status on Amazon, and we are hoping that it continues to pick up momentum and go clear off the charts!  This will mean a lot of clean water for people in Africa- every book sold provides enough for 3 folks for a year.

  If you haven't grabbed your copy yet - a steal at only $9.99 for a great book and a great cause - go here to get one.  It's downloadable for Kindle.  Don't have a Kindle?  No worries; I don't either.  But as soon as you get to Amazon, you can download a Kindle reader free to your laptop or iPhone and let the reading begin.

   Thanks for all your support in this endeavor.  It's been exciting and fun to be involved in this project, and we couldn't make it happen without you.

how well do I wait?


Oh...I wish all questions were this simple.  This one I can answer easily -

Not very well.

And I have a suspicion that the feeling is mutual.

If you've been reading my more recent posts, though, I've been writing about living in the here and now, appreciating every moment, and starting to see the wealth of life I have around me.  I'm learning to see that the big things in life that I'm waiting for (granted, tapping my foot the entire time) are really the little things that are already happening daily in my life that I tend not to notice.

I'm pretty excited to be learning this stuff.

 
This is why I was happy today about the arrival of my pre-ordered book, The In-Between by Jeff Goins.  It speaks page by page about making the waiting times count; about how often it's not the mountaintop experience we remember the most, but the moments and memories we made getting there. 

If you've ever felt in-between, or perhaps find yourself there now, go pick up a copy of this book on Amazon.   It's a great read, and speaks straight to the heart of the matter.

And, if you have trouble waiting, it's available on your Kindle or as an audiobook for immediate download.....

:)


the grass is always greener....right where i'm already standing

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want."  Sound familiar?  It probably does, even if you've never picked up a Bible.   How many times have I read this verse, heard this verse, recited this verse in my head....which, unfortunately, has the tendency to make it become commonplace and not too stand-out-ish.  Like a run of the mill phrase, it tends to lose its impact over time.

Until this morning, when it leapt off the page at me. Just that one sentence.  Just that one line.

The power was infused back into it in a heartbeat.

 "The Lord is my shepherd...."  I was quickly reminded who's driving this sheep's bus.  God knows the fields I cannot see with my human eyes.  He knows that the grazing "over there" that I am so sure is better than the "right here", isn't.  He has me here, in this pasture, at this point in my life, for a reason. 

It occurred to me that perhaps where I am at this time is not necessarily because I'm the one who's lacking, but because the other pastures that I've been longing to be taken to aren't ready yet.  They've been eaten up by the last flock who wandered through, leaving them dry and barren, the delicious grass nibbled to the roots with nothing left to provide nourishment or satisfaction.  God is well aware that if it was up to me, I'd stroll my woolly self out my present gate and go trotting off to where I think I should be by now, only to be disappointed to find nothing to munch on, no water for my thirst, and no still waters to lie down beside.

And that makes for one sad sheep.

After reading just that one sentence, just that one line, my view of life shifted.  My heart heard God telling me that the grass is plenty green and plenty thick right where I'm currently grazing.  It was as if He was saying, "Why would you want to go elsewhere when I've provided so much for you here?  Let the other fields grow a while; we'll go there when they are ready."

We'll go there.  He'll lead me.  Out of this pasture and on to the next, when the time is right for both the sheep and the field.  Now, that makes sense.

And I'm glad it does, because I need to get busy munching.  I can clearly see the good grazing; it's all around me right where I am.

Which is where it's been all along.


A good vote for a good cause

 
Just like a good politician, I am looking for your vote!  I have a story submitted on the site, CausePub, where many people have entered their "I got off the couch and did something about it" stories.  The best ones (with the most votes) will be published in a book whose proceeds will go to provide 45,000 people in Africa with clean water.
 
Here's an excerpt from the site- "CausePub has teamed up with Blood:Water Mission. For every book sold, Blood:Water Mission, will be able to provide three people with clean water for one year. The goal of this Cause is to sell 15,000 copies, which means that 45,000 lives could be directly impacted by your participation in this CausePub Project!"
 
By the way, those do-something-about-it-people are called Couch Rebels, which is also the name of the book.  Here's more info straight from the site -  
 
"Couch Rebels' estimated release date is August 14th. It is a crowd-published book, which means that 127 storytellers have teamed up to write it together since April 1st, 2013! We are now in the process of choosing the best stories and compiling them into the book.
 
What’s the book all aboutCouch rebels are people who have been outside their comfort zones (whether voluntary or involuntary) and have allowed those experiences to change their lives. While the rest of society is imitating potatoes, couch rebels are learning, growing, and experiencing the incredible things life has to offer."
 
And to think - I never knew I was one.
 
Here's the link to my story that you can read and vote on- http://causepub.com/sugar-bowl-wisdom/
 
One thing to know before you go - you will need to have a Facebook or a Twitter account in order to vote.  Some of you may be hesitant to sign up with Facebook, as it seems to be asking for access to a lot of your content.  I wrote to the owner/founder of CausePub and asked him to clear this up for me, and he responded,
 
"We have to verify via FB and Twitter to make sure people don't spam the system with multiple email addresses and stuff. Nothing will be shared with their friends on these networks, it's just a verification process."
 
Hope that puts any fears to rest.  It's a reputable site and a reputable organization.
 
Thanks ahead of time and I'll keep you posted as to the outcome!
 

the doubting weed

When I wasn't even looking for it, I've noticed I have a flaw, a chink in my armor, that presented itself after the hectic pace of my past few days.  It's something I've noticed in the past, but simply brushed it off while it nagged at me.  And now that it's come calling time and again, I see that yes, it is indeed a problem.

So I thought I'd work it out here in front of all of you. 

Allow me to be honest.

I've discovered that there are things I'd rather not deal with.

Can anyone relate?

I discovered I bury my head in the sand and secretly hope big decisions will go away.

But most of all, I discovered I like to be busy because then I can avoid what really needs to be done.

Do I hear an amen?

Being busy serves a purpose for me - one that's not necessarily healthy or helpful to my life, but a purpose nonetheless.  Whenever I have something I'd rather not tend to, launch into, or work on, activities on my calendar serve as scapegoats to keep me occupied so that I don't have to address things I don't want to think about. ( Those things, for all intents and purposes, are not really that bad.  I just make them that bad).
Apparently, being busy keeps my true feelings about certain items at bay. Not even "at bay"; let's say "completely out to sea".

I know this because today, I ran out of activities. There was nothing left to mask what I had avoided but needed to be done.  I found myself looking straight into decisions and pursuits that up until today had remained in the background, safely tucked away, because I didn't have the time to address them.  They were out-to-sea, safely bobbing on the waves until I had the time to deal with them on shore.

Although it seems like overnight, their ship came in.

And I was far from ready.

So here I am with my now-unavoidable tasks, projects and decisions.  Am I going to trust God and go with what I was certain not that long ago that He was showing me to do?  Why does it all seem so shaky today when I felt so certain yesterday?

I think I know why.  It's because my faith needs some stretching. God hasn't changed. My circumstances haven't changed.  But my doubt has begun to grow, like a weed in a garden that hasn't yet been pulled out by its roots.  Am I going to listen to doubt?  Or am I going to listen to God who clearly gave me direction, even though He seems silent at the moment?

God wants me grow.  He wants me to succeed.  He will allow those doubts to creep in so that I learn not to listen to them. It would be easier to do that - to listen to the doubting, condemning voices and let those weeds take over and throw in the towel.  It's harder to press on and work through the uncertainty and come out on the other side.

Change is hard.  Trying new things is hard.  Fear of failure runs rampant, and sometimes it's just easier not to try.

But I would let myself down if I stopped now, if I didn't do what I feel God has called me to do, no matter how crazy or difficult it may seem. God takes me seriously, and I need to do the same with Him.

Time to pull some weeds.

what if the little things really are the big things?

Yesterday I read the entry I'd written in my journal exactly one year before.  It said,

"The scenery of life is dull at the moment.  I'm constantly in a wondering state of "what's next?"  I don't want to be there all my life; I want to eventually arrive at where God wants me to be.  Just take the next step - that's really all I can do right now, today."

Even though that was penned last year, it startled me to realize I would still write the same thoughts today.  I realized that I could end up doing exactly what I wrote that I don't want to do - "being there" on a waiting stage all my life, missing most of it while I'm passing time hoping that God shows up and does something ultra-amazing in my life for all the world to see.  I fear that I am spending my days, my time, overlooking what seems to me to be small stuff while I am gearing up for the big stuff I just know is on its way.

Then it hit me.  Why do I think God is still holding onto the One Big Thing for me that will come and change my life and unlock my Purpose Door?  What if He's already given it to me? What if it's here, all around me, in what I already have?  These life gifts that I take for granted every day; healthy children, jobs, cars, home, food, passions, love, joy, community, and the list goes on......What if all the small stuff really IS the big stuff I've been waiting for all this time?

The fact is, all that I have may very well be all I will ever have.

And if that is true, (and I'm going with the assumption that it is) then it's my thinking that needs to change, not God's performance. 

Light.  Bulb.  Moment.

So, I decided to make a choice.  It has something to do with contentedness, and a whole lot to do with perspective.  I purposed to see the things I've usually counted as small and only marginally significant as the way God intended for me to see them - great gifts I have been blessed with, which indeed they are.  It's more than just counting my blessings; it's raising the bar to count the ordinary, the everyday, the taken-for-granted parts of my life as purposeful sendings from God that are nothing short of miraculous.

Because first of all, that's true; and second of all, until I do that, I'm missing out.

I don't have to worry that I'm not doing what He wants me to do; I just need to be concerned that what He's given me to do, I do well.

I'm tired of looking out there for what I already have right here. 

To quote an old cliché that I must use because it works so well, I am choosing from this point on to dig in deep and bloom where I'm planted.  No more looking to future "if's" and "when's" to get me through the here and now.  The here and now is what I have, and it is indeed more than enough.  It's what God planned and designed specifically for me. 

Which makes it pretty awesome.










It's a date!


This is a fun post to write.  

If you would, take a moment to read my first post on this blog here.

Then, you will understand why I have great pleasure in writing that our book is available for pre-order on Amazon, with a release date of February 6, 2014.

Woo Hoo and let the fun begin!

my name



 

I was talking with a first-time mom recently and she was chatting with me about her baby girl and all the wonder that goes with having a newborn, a child, an extension of yourself for the very first time. Amazingly enough, she was out alone without said appendage, so she was missing her baby and was eager to talk about her.   At the end of our conversation, I asked, “What did you name her?”
To my surprise, she didn't answer right away.

Instead, she paused. 

It was only for a moment, but it was as if she needed to think about it, to recall it, to bring to mind what that name choice had ultimately been.  She finally looked at me and said, “Madison Joy”.  I told her it was a beautiful name, which indeed it is.

But I was struck by the pause, because that skip of beats made it seem like she couldn’t remember what she had named her little one. 
And I get that.  It could have happened for a number of reasons; lack of sleep, back-to-work stresses, her mind on other things.  It could also be due to the fact that her daughter is a brand new life in her life, one she’s not quite used to accounting for yet, one who has come along and wonderfully disrupted all things pre-motherhood and the adjustment isn’t quite flowing naturally.
(One day, she'll be saying that daughter's name so many times while trying to get her to clean up her room she'll wish she could forget it...just for a second.... :)
For right now, this new mom is just suffering from human nature.   Truth be told, I'm sure any of us who have experienced life with a newborn can say, "been there done that", along with almost-forgetting-our-child-at-church-or-the-mall, and never really doing that 7th buckle on the car seat because oh my heavens the baby is wailing and can we please just go now.

It's ok.  It's just human nature.  Human. Flawed. Nature.
And let's all breathe a sigh of relief because the good news is - it’s not God’s nature.
I am never a new name to Him.  He created me, caused me to be and sent me forth.  He knew me from the beginning, and will know me to the end.  He never pauses when He recounts my life or calls my name.  I am His and He is mine, and nothing can change that fact.  Ever.
God says in Psalm 139: 13-16 – For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”
How marvelous to be thought up by God.  How miraculous to be created by God. How wonderful to be known by God.
He is above all, in all and through all.  And He knows my name.
And that, my friends, gives me pause.

 

 

impossible


I like this picture for a number of reasons.  Probably not the least of which is that it reminds me of the old manual typewriter we had in the back room of our house when I was growing up.    Oh, those keys - you had to really pound them in order to successfully get ink on paper.  And that ribbon- if you remember the machine, then you also remember the ribbon would snag and snarl and your fingers would get black and messy as you tried to fix it.  Then there was the problem of accidentally hitting two keys at once (which wasn't hard to do); they would slam up and hit the roller at the same time and interlock just so, and once again you'd have to get your hands in there to unhook them and return them to their rightful place.  It was a slow, painstaking process to get a typewritten letter out in one try for most people.

Except for my dad.

He was a World War II vet who, in his retirement free time, simply loved taking on the insurance company, the local borough and township offices, and any place else he could send a letter to in order to get things straightened out.  It didn't matter that he knew zero keyboarding techniques and only used his pointer finger on each hand. My mother and I used to shake our heads in wonder as we listened to him from the living room.  One time I looked at her and said, "You'd never know he wasn't using all ten, would you?"  That man could make those windshield-wiper-looking letter arms fly like there was no tomorrow.

And take on the typewritten world, he did.

What I also love about this picture is that taking out two letters changes the definition 180 degrees.   It repositions the entire focus and meaning of the word.  That simple act of cutting off the front takes me from defeat to promise, from discouragement to hope.  From impossible to possible.

On the other hand, why should I cross out those areas of my life that to me seem impossible?  After all how can I, in my finite mind, know what is possible and what isn't?  Why not just throw it all in the "possible" column until proven otherwise?  That would be perhaps healthier and definitely a more hopeful approach to life.  Why kill the dream before I've even tried because I think it can't be done?  

I must realize I don't know the future, but I know One who does.  I can dare to dream.  I can dare to do the impossible.  And if it's meant to happen, it will.

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26

 












step one

I finally have it- my own creative space.  Thanks to a long holiday weekend, pushed-off projects were finally completed around our house and I now have a dedicated space of my own to write, dream, think, plan, organize, blog, and anything else my little heart desires.  It's a quiet space; a great space to get away to, and I am so appreciative of it.

And I'm not exactly sure what I am going to do in it....but I cannot wait to find out.

I've not blogged in a while because I've been more in "research" mode.  I've been gathering, reading, journaling, and it's all led up to feeling that God would have me take this space, take this time, to follow Him even though I'm not sure where He's leading.

I have come to realize that I don't have to see the whole journey in order to take the first step.

So it was with great vigor I cleaned out, organized, decorated, and prepared this lovely area that I can call my own.   I feel it's a first step to something, but I'm not sure to what.  I've learned enough about God to know that He will instruct me on step two when the time is right, and that for now, simply showing up is all that is required of me.

Thanks for joining me on my first voyage of using my new space.  Over an hour has passed and it's seemed like only minutes.  When we are doing what we love to do - when we love ourselves enough to let ourselves fully engage in what we love to do - joy fills the time and before we know it, it's time to go.

Thanking God for first steps.





praying about the intangibles

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.






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.

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. 

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.