Archive for October, 2012
9 Oct
Day 403
“Mess.”
I can remember when my youngest son was just two, looking matter-of-factly at the spilled box of spaghetti noodles on the kitchen floor, saying, “Mess, momma, mess.” He wasn’t upset, he wasn’t happy, he was just stating the mechanics of the moment as he saw them – “Mess”.
That’s how I feel today.
I feel like I’m standing in observance a box of all my colorful emotions that are spilled out across the floor. “Mess.” There’s some happy over there. It’s sort of yellow with touches of orange. Right next to it is the gray colored concern and the black worry. Splayed out directly across from that is the white hot guilt (white hot because it’s not what you think it is and it seems to be in everything today). Dot all of this with broken blue and green pieces of sadness and want. There is a little tiny bit of joy out there – those are the bright pieces of rainbow. Rainbow, because of God’s promises.
The thing is, I don’t feel like scooping them up and placing them all neat and tidy in their box right now. Today, in this very moment, I’m sort of dependent on each one of those emotions. They are comfortable. I do really like the way happy feels, and I cannot get enough of the joy rainbow, either. But, as crazy as it sounds, I’m finding that the other colors are playing an important role in my today, too.
In her book, Unglued, Lysa Terkeurst writes,
“Our emotions are what enable us to drink deeply from love and treasure it. And yes, we also experience difficult emotions such as sadness, fear, shame, and anger. But might these be important as well?”
“God gave me emotions so I could experience life…”
I’m experiencing life. That’s it! I AM experiencing life! Praise God, I am experiencing life, even with my box dumped out all over the floor. It is a mess, indeed. But it’s a beautiful mess to the Master Creator. I’m so thankful he loves me when I keep my emotions tucked neatly under cover and even when I toss them out all over the floor.
This is how I’ve spent day 403. Unsure of what I feel exactly. One emotion seems to trump the next, over and over again. I think I’m going to let Jesus have the gray, black, white hot, blue and green crayons, and see if I can put the rest of the colors back into place.
8 Oct
Beyond the White Picket Fence
When I was younger, I wanted the white picket fence so badly!
And the husband, the 2.5 kids and dog that go with it.
And the sports cars, vacations, rockin’ body and bottomless bank account.
Life is messy.
It’s rarely a match to the utopian dreams we imagine when we’re younger.
At some point, the mile marker of the white picket fence started to fade, as did my own plans, when I welcomed Jesus into the door of my heart. The more I chase Jesus, the more I pass by things that I used to think would make me happy. The more frequently I chase Jesus, the more often I pass by those things. And the more quickly I chase Jesus, the faster I pass by those things, too.
That white picket fence used to be so real to me – I could almost smell the fresh paint! Now, I see beyond that fence to where true treasures await. In Matthew 6 verses 19 – 20, we are told:
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.”
The fence is no longer an object that represents success, arrival or reward to me…it is a symbol of things that are temporary on this earth.
Heavenly Father, help me to keep my focus beyond the things of this world so that I may be steadfast in walking the pathway you have prepared for me. Father, I long to work in your will for my life and bring glory to your son’s sweet, holy name, always. My eyesight may be falling victim to the confines of this earth, but my vision, Lord, you sharpen more and more every day, setting it upon the good things you have prepared ahead for me. Father, please help me see opportunities you present and give me abundant courage and strength to carry out your wishes with all I meet. Thank you so much for loving me. Amen.
2 Oct
My Trashcan is Overflowing
And I need to edge the sidewalk in front of my house.
Oh, and roll up the water hose.
And weed the herb garden.
And move that bag of garden soil to the backyard.
It’s been there since June.
I heard someone say this week, “You know, you can tell what a person’s house is like on the inside by looking at how they keep the outside.”
I’ve never really thought about it before, but I have now…a lot! Thank you, person who said this. Just like when I heard a woman say, “It really irk’s me when people don’t shave behind their knees”, I will always think about people looking at my unshaven legs, AND NOW, my unkempt front yard. Geesh!
Words we say have a lot of power. They are forever. Some of them, anyway. Words said in Financial Accounting 201 for me were forgotten before they cleared the lips of my professor, but that’s another type of thing. Words we say in judgement…as circumstantial evidence…as infallible truth – they are sticky boogers, especially if we are the gracious recipient of those with negative, pointy fingers.
Okay, Mr. Observer and person who thinks he might know what the inside of my house looks like based on the fact that my shudders are a little faded and I have some highway grass waving at passersby — Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, my priorities are a little different than yours? Have you ever thought that there are more important things in life than giving up a Saturday afternoon for weeding and lawn care? Maybe I didn’t straighten up the front yard before I left today because there was an emergency. Maybe I don’t have enough gas in my car to drive to the trash dump twice a week. Maybe my husband split and I’m struggling with the responsibilities of home maintenance that I’ve been left with. Maybe I’m dealing with sickness, or worse, sickness of a child.
The maybes are endless.
Do not judge based on the outside. Of anything.
Things are rarely what they seem.
And take care in the words you say, lest someone return the favor one day.
1 Oct
The Fabric Of Our LIves
Move over cotton.
The fabric of our lives is not something you can touch.
It’s not something you can outright see.
You can’t put it on and take off.
It is not always comfortable, either.
The fabric of our lives is woven into each of us, strand by strand.
By every experience.
Every encounter.
These are the things our fabric is made of.
I’m praising God today for three special artisans who have contributed to the fabric of my life:
Artisan One
When I was just a toddler, you made sure I went to church. You pulled me into your family, and the wood-panelled station wagon, for many trips to Sunday school and church services. You never treated me like an outsider, instead, creating in me a sense of self-worth and purpose. Because of your influence, I never doubted that God existed. Ever. Jesus was a part of every day, just like the buttered toast with jelly I had for breakfast so many mornings growing up in your kitchen next door. I will never forget the scanner that lived on top of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I knew by heart what the calls meant, and would sit by the table chair in the kitchen and watch you lace up your boots before you left for a fire. I always felt so safe, knowing that you were always listening for calls of distress – always willing to help when there was a need. You took me in when I needed a place to stay. And even though at that point in my life I was resistant to following you to church, you made sure I knew the invitation was always open to join you, and I have no doubt that you prayed for me ferociously during those years. The dinners you brought me home from Wednesday nights at church were so good! I always figured it must be because they were delivered by you, but now that I eat those dinners at church every Wednesday night, I know it’s because of all of the angels preparing and serving the food (you were one of those angels, too). We shared similar experiences with head on collisions, just months apart from each other. Even in that situation, I learned from your forgiving nature and love towards others – all others. You’d beep your horn every time you pass by my house – you in your infamous black pickup. And in the last few years we had together, you continued to show me – and the world! – what it meant to truly be a servant. I would get a kick out of seeing all the boys and girls, my own boys included, look forward to a “give me five – ahhh too slow”, followed by a piece of that golden candy. I admit, I looked forward to this ritual, too. And in our 42 year history, when your time on this earth was coming to an end, you continued to challenge and inspire me. In the very last conversation we had, which was a typical brief exchange by the door to the Young Hall, you asked me if I figured out my testimony yet. “You know, Toot, you have a story, too.” The fabric of my life has certainly been framed by you, and I’m so thankful for my parents who bought a house next door to you before I was born.
Artisan Two
I first met you twenty years ago. “Bestill my heart!” I had no idea what love was until I held you in my arms. You and I saw the world together for the first time from sets of eyes that were so willing to see goodness all around us. My love for you, and newfound protective nature, awakened in me a thirst to teach you all about life and to show you God’s beauty in people and in places. You had an insatiable need for touch and human connection from the time you were born until…well, you still have that! You recognized at an early age the importance of relationships – including the most important relationship with Jesus Christ. Looking back on it now, I see you teaching me far more than I have ever taught you. You challenge me, you encourage me, you pray for and with me. You show me daily what it means to live Luke 9:23. I have seen God’s blessings poured out on you, as you humbly press forth in building His kingdom. I’ve seen you hurt. I’ve seen you broken. And I’ve seen you weak. And through all of these, I’ve seen you never losing faith. I’ve been awed by your response to the world. It’s no wonder I have to wear glasses now. Somewhere along the lines, my vision stalled, where yours has never lost focus. You are definitely a thread woven throughout the entire fabric of my life, and I’m so blessed, so honored, to know you.
Artisan Three
We first met about seven years ago, even though I didn’t know your name. You were that nice guy, with the nice wife, who I would pass by as I left my neighborhood. You were always smiling. I mean, always. To the point that I would wonder, “what is he always smiling about?”. In time, I got to know you, and your name, as well as your wife and children and their names. As a matter of fact, I got to where I was spending a lot of time around you, as I was with my oldest son who was spending a lot of time around you, and I figured out why you were smiling all the time. Never before have I met someone who was completely, unashamedly, sold out for Jesus Christ and passionate about introducing Him to everyone — that’s you! That’s your smile. You don’t just preach it, you live it. It is through your walk, your honesty and your willingness to be open with every last fiber of your own fabric that anyone who crosses paths with you can’t help but see Jesus’s love. You have been a positive role model for my sons, and have willingly gone out of your way to reach not just my kids, but all of the youth in our church, with a life that is evident of salvation. No, let me rephrase that. You have gone out of your way to reach all in our church, not just the youth. And to this very day, you’re teaching us what it means to live obediently and in God’s will. I will miss you being down the street, but I know that the thread you’ve added to the fabric of my life will be forever a part of who I am. Thank you so much, my friend, my mentor, my brother in Christ.
God is so good. So, so good, always. And as a good friend of mine says all the time, “Doesn’t God just blow your mind?”. You see, years ago, when my parents chose to buy a house in Florence, God already had set a plan in motion for my life. I wasn’t even “expected” at the time they settled in Florence. But God knew that in order for me to be where I am today in my relationship with Him, I had to have all three of these artisans create important pieces of the fabric of my life. See, if my parents didn’t buy that little house on Hobart Drive back in the 60’s, I never would have lived next door to Mr. Phillip. And if I never lived next door to Mr. Phillip, chances are I might not have been exposed to Jesus in the same way. And if I wasn’t exposed to Jesus back then, I probably wouldn’t have had the same influence on my oldest son or desires to share about God’s creation with him. I probably wouldn’t live in a house down the street from a youth pastor named Justin, who would minster to my oldest son, and upon receiving a phone call from Mr. Phillip, be the transportation for my son back and forth to church for so long. And I probably wouldn’t have been sitting in the parking lot of my church, after dropping off my kids for their Wednesday activities, on the night that I felt the Holy Spirit invite me inside to find a chair in an adult Bible study group. God’s plan is perfect, and holy, and I’m so thankful that I can see evidence of this perfection woven throughout the fabric of my life. It’s made up of lots of threads, contributed by lots of artisans…and this is only the beginning.
What’s the fabric of your life made of?
the toenail 