Lessons from Halloween

This week's prompt we were asked go back to a memorable Halloween costume, to show it and draw our reader's into our emotions and memories in 400 words - enjoy!

Just shy of her second birthday, thick chocolate hair fell to her shoulders and framed her deep, sapphire blue, slightly too large for her face, eyes.  Although Halloween was a foreign idea to her, it never occurred to her to question my wisdom as I stuffed her little legs and arms into what she must have thought were pajamas.  Only, these weren't pajamas - because pajamas don't have a long stiff tail protruding out of its bottom that swayed as she walked.  And while green pajamas may have fluorescent pink dots on them, they didn't come with spiked hoods that left only her sparkling eyes, rosy checks and sweet lips exposed.

She looked at me curiously as I explained.  "You and your sisters will go to the door and ring the bell."  I adjusted her costume and handed her her bag.  "Then, when they open the door, you say 'Trick or treat' and they will give you candy."  She tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly.  I smiled.  "Go with your sisters, they'll show you."
We waited at the end of the walkway as Little Bo Peep, a pirate, Dorothy, Jasmine and a butterfly ran up the sidewalk.  They rang the bell, yelled "Trick or Treat," and joyfully accepted the candy.  They ran back down to meet us before she got halfway up the walk.  "Wait," I said sternly to the excited children.  "Wait for your sister."  We turned to wait and watched as she waddled the rest of the way to the door.  She stopped and stood on the porch, saying nothing, but just standing, wagging her dinosaur tail, and starring at the elderly woman with her piercing blue eyes.

"Oh my!" The woman exclaimed.  "How adorable are you!"  She grabbed a generous heaping of candy - noticeably more than she gave to the others, and dropped it into her bag.  And still she stood there - not smiling, not talking, not moving.  She just stood there waving her green tail with the hot pink polka dots and looking at her with her big blue eyes.  The woman exclaimed again, reached back into her bag of candy and gave her more.  I hurried to the door, reminded her to say thank you, and slightly embarrassed, rushed her down the walk.  She looked back at the woman and even at two I could see dangerous thoughts connecting in her mind. 

I knew then and there, raising this beauty would take quite a watchful eye. Linking up today with

 

Failing Words

I think in pictures - and sometimes the image in my mind is so clear and powerful that I want to share it - tell others about the encouragement, comfort, and strength it gives to me, but as hard as I try, I cannot adequately translate the pictures I am seeing in my mind into mere words.  Words only seem to cause the images to fall flat.  They do not do justice to the beauty and power that plays in my head. 

Tonight, there is a beautiful scene occupying my mind.  It came into sharp focus as I was praying with our India Thailand Missions Team.  The image is full of light and shadows, darkness and revelation.  There is joy and dancing in the path of a bright shimmering light that is moving along the road of a city.  There are people all around.  Some are hiding in the black recesses, outside of edges of the light - watching, wondering, curious as the light travels the road - moving forward, always just a step ahead of those walking in its illumination.  And there are people walking in the light, following its leading, its clear direction.  They walk with confidence, not knowing where the light is going, but confident it has gone this way before, confident that it is their purpose to follow, confident that they are exactly where they need to be.

But there they are again - the flat, dull, lifeless words that refuse to capture the splendor in my thoughts.  The words that pale in comparison to the image I can see.  An image that tells me God knows - has always known what lies ahead.  That even though I do not see, do not know, and cannot comprehend what He is going to do - He does.  It is my response to move forward, to trust and to know, experientially know that he goes before me, with me, and that I do not walk alone.
I know I do not walk alone because in the image I see, I can see others.  Others who are waiting along the path.  Waiting for people to arrive that will bring them comfort, hope, encouragement and healing.  Several wait in the shadows, in the darkness, afraid of what the light will reveal.  But they are there.  Watching, pondering, questioning, hoping to somehow be pulled into the light. They long to be in the light - but do not know how.
Some walk with along the road with their eyes closed - or downcast.  So consumed by their position on the path, so consumed by what others might be doing, that they fail to see the beauty, the opportunity, the blessings around them.  Yet some walk with their eyes open to what God is revealing along the journey - mindful of the One who always moves slightly ahead.

Prayer is a powerful tool.  It is an invitation we have to step outside of ourselves and join with the Creator of our souls in His work, in His passions, in His ministry.  As He leads, I long to follow.  He goes before me, He goes before us.  Though I may not know the path - or recognize the journey, He is there, lighting the way I need to travel, encouraging me to move forward as He leads, keeping my heart and eyes open to all He has in store.  Even when words fail me - He never does.

Linking up with:

AWOL

Yes, it is true, I have been AWOL, Absent from Writing On Line for many weeks.  I cannot begin to enumerate for you the number of blogs I have started and stopped, except to say that my list of posts is beginning to contain more draft posts than published.




In July, I was off from work and was able to spend additional time reading scripture, praying and writing.  I learned a lot about myself.  I grew and enjoyed the luxury of the extra time to make sense of my thoughts through writing.  But in August - when I returned to work I lost my 'extra' time and was unable to write more than a paragraph or two.  And the writing that did make its way onto the computer screen was disjointed and clumsy.  My thoughts were jumbled.  The metaphors and pictures in my head that explained the emotions in my heart didn't line up and I found myself sitting silently before my keyboard with incomplete contemplations, time and time again.




But in September, I learned something.   A quick observation from my dear friend and blogger Jackie, (Adventures in the Ordinary), seemed to cut right to the heart of why I couldn't write - why I was unable to finish my thoughts.  She reminded me that I write to sort my thoughts.  I write to help me make sense of what I am learning - to place in context what God is doing in my life.  What I write is personal.  It involves my struggles, my pain, my disappointment, my hopes, my hurts.  But what I am living now is other people's pain.




I thought about her words for a long time, and I realize they were truth.  How do I write when what I am learning is born out of other people's struggles?  When my cries out to God are on their behalf, not my own?  When I plead with God to show His grace and mercy not because of my sorrow - but because my heart is broken for someone else's grief?  How do I post my wonderings,  my musings, and my process of their private pain in a pulic place?




For many months it feels like I have been watching hurricane after hurricane tear through the lives of so many I love.  I see the storms.  I see the devastation left behind after the fury has passed- but I cannot change the hurricane's path.  I cannot interject myself and alleviate their pain.  I cannot even help rebuild what has been left wrecked and torn.  While I feel their pain - while I am deeply affected by all that has transpired - I am on the outside.   I am a witness to the storms but  I am not in the direct path of the hurricane.




Writing for the last few weeks has been especially difficult.  The storms have passed - and I pray, have stopped.  But the damage that the winds and the rains have caused is overwhelming.  Debris is strewn across the landscape and I am powerless to pick any of it up. It was not my heart that was shattered - but my heart is broken for them.  And all I can do is pray.  Pray that the God who loves each and every one of them with more passion and selflessness than I will be faithful to restore all that was wrecked in the storms. Pray that He will redeem what was lost and hope that when all is done, they will stand faithful in their call to continue to love Him in return.

Six Word Saturday

Sun Smiles Silliness and Special Friends

Heading out to see friends I have not spent time with in close to 30 years!  So excited to reunite, hangout, laugh, giggle, and catch-up!  Yea for FB and it's magical powers to reconnect!

Blessings to all of you 'six word' Saturday'ers!

Be Perfect?

 

Today's five minute challenge from Lisa Jo over at the Gypsy Mama, is to set our timer and write for five minutes on the word "Whole." We are to publish it as is - so no editing!

Here is my take on the word "Whole"

Go...

Perfection is a word that to me holds a connotation, or rather a feeling, of an unattainable list of expectations that I am to strive towards, and when I miss that mark, if I fail to complete anything on this list, then I have failed to be perfect.

There's a verse in scripture that has always scared me. It is the verse where Jesus tells us to be perfect, as He is perfect - Where He tells me I must conquer an unattainable, and sometimes unknowable list of things that I must do or say or think or feel to be perfect. And that I am required, commanded even to do this. And that verse has always causeds me to feel fear, intimidation, and to feel doomed to complete, utter, failure.

But perfect, in the sense of unattainable, is not the true connotation of that word. The word is really a calling to be complete, as He is complete - to be whole.

To be whole in my mind, in my body, in my spirit, in my emotions, in my love, in my actions, in my soul...to be whole means to be complete. To be complete means to live in health and fullness of life!

Jesus does not call us to an unattainable set of regulations and rules, but to wholeness, to completeness, to health! What a loving thing to desire for me...

This verse no longer scares me, but frees me! Jesus wants me to be whole! I love that about my God, don't you?

Stop...

Take 327

I wish living life were like making a movie. I wish we could read our lines, rehearse what needs to happen- change it up a bit, do it over and over again until it's right and then allow our editor to pick the best parts and let that play out to the world.

But that isn't our life. We do not get to rehearse, or practice, or try out several ways of doing something and then let the director tell us which take to use. We don't have script writers, or make-up artists or lighting crews that always make us look our best. We don't have people feeding us the right words, putting us in the best locations or designing the perfect clothes to represent our personalities.


Life is more raw than that. There are no 'take 2s' or 'take 22's,' there are no do overs. It is what it is.

But that does not make us victims of chance or randomness. We are not helpless fish tossed about by the waves of life. We have choice, and power and opportunity to make the best of what we are given. We have a God who loves us, who died for us and who desires nothing less than to reveal Himself to us.

As we read His word, as we meditate on the scriptures, as we pray, fellowship, worship and commune with Him, He reveals His love, His care, and His presence in our lives. And as we move through the chaos of our world, He shows us how to live. Sometimes we follow Him and sometimes we don't, but whether we do or don't, He is still working with us, revealing Himself to us, walking with us, and giving us the power we need every step of the way.

But as I write these words that I know are true, my heart is aching and I am grieved becasue I know it is not always a simple process.  As I sit in the comfort of my home, scripting out this blog, a very dear and close friend of ours, a mother of 4 children under the age of 10, is fighting stage 3 cancer. Her treatments are wrecking havoc on her body and she cannot be the wife and mother she longs to be.  Her husband was recently laid off and so in addition to fighting her cancer, they must also fight their insurance company, and deal with the ramifications of the loss of both of their incomes. I do not understand this and - I wonder why. I wonder why God in His sovereignty allows all of this to fall on them. I know God can heal. I know God walks with them - but my heart doesn't want this script for them. My heart does not want this difficult road to be their path. I desperately want God to say "Cut, stop, let's change the script." I want this  to be left on the cutting room floor - never to be seen.  But that is not how it works.

Life is not edited for our enjoyment, it is lived for God's glory, and in His glory is His love, His compassion and His presence. I know God has not abandoned this family - or any other family that has a painful journey like theirs - we all know familes who struggle with illnesses, and divorces, and trauma.  But as I watch this family walk this path, even though I know God walks with them, my heart still grieves, my soul still aches and I long to see joy and peace and health restored to them in a miraculous way.

Linking up with The Way I see it Wednesday

Bad Connection

There is something wrong with my phone. 

Recently I was having a conversation on my phone and what I said was not what was heard.  For some reason, by the time my words reached the listener's ears, the words were all jumbled up and distorted, and the listener did not understand me at all. 

Maybe, I need a new phone because what I said was

• "You need to think about the consequences"
• But what was heard was - you never make right choices
• What I said was, "I don't like it when you push things to the end"
• But what was heard was - you are lazy and procrastinate
• What I said was "I don't think you should do this "
• But what was heard was - you disappoint

I hung up the phone and cried- I did not understand how my words, words meant for caution and admonition were heard as judgment and failure.  I was devastated, crushed and I ached to make things right.  How could this beautiful passionate person hear those kinds of words from me?  Is that what my actions communicate?  I do not think those things about this person- why would they think I do?  And then I realized, I was so preoccupied with wanting to cross something off of a 'to do' list that I wasn't listening to what was being heard until it was too late - and the conversation had already spun out of control.  How many times had I done that before?  Not listened, shoved my own agenda, spoken too harshly?  Obviously, too many times.

Oh God, help me to choose words that are full of grace and love - with no agenda than the other's best interest.  Teach me to use words to bless and to encourage; words that listen to the heart of the one to whom I am speaking.  Teach me to listen and speak only when needed.  Forgive me for not hearing the heart of the one you entrusted to me.

"A truly wise person uses few words; a person with understanding is even-tempered." - Proverbs 17:27 NLT

Six Word Saturday

Hurting heart + loving friends = renewed hope

Want to play along? All that's necessary to participate is to describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information - or to play along, click the button!

I am still on my 21 day journey and I am starting to feel 'alive' again - somedays I am right on track, others, not so much!  I am reading scripture more, praying more, reflecting more, and creating more and all of those things are strengthening my heart, my mind and my passion.  Some days I feel quite creative (result, the new blog design) and other days my creativity is limited ('creating' a clean place in the garage), but overall, I am moving forward...even though today started out curled up in my bed sobbing like a baby, I was able to dry my tears and laugh with friends.  God is good and I am continuing on.

Five Minute Friday - Still

Today I linked up with Lisa Jo for the Five Minute Friday bloghop.

The challenge? To write for five minutes - no more, no less and then post. Today's prompt: Still

Here is what I did...in 5


Be still...no moving, no wandering, no chattering, no noise - just stillness. Quiet, reflection, prayers, turning my heart to the one who knows my heart. No distraction, just time to wonder, to think, to feel.

7 days ago I decided to complete a mini fast, based on a Bible AP's daily reading plan. I gave up TV - and I miss it. I miss the conversations - the stories - the laughs (but not the annoying commericals) but I realized this morning how much I gaining by not having it on. I had read from the gospel of Mark, and was sipping my coffee and reflecting on what I had read when I absentl mindedly reached for the TV remote...I stoped myself and understood that I had done that so many times, shortchanged my time with God by reaching out for sound - for noise - for something other than stillness.

I am so grateful for this time to be still and learn who He is without distractions.



You are welcome to come play too!

Color me

I like color. Color that is vibrant, deep, rich. I like how color affects and changes how we perceive things. I like how color elicits feelings and emotions. With imaging technology as close as our phone, we can take photos and transform them to convey stories that can provoke passion in people, trigger delightful- or painful memories for others and even cause some to spring to action. The way a photo contains – or does not contain color affects how we experience the photo, how we see it, what we think about it and how we feel about it.

Attitude is like color. It shades how we see things, people, and situations. It is how we choose to view the world. If one is looking at life through the lens of Eeyore, things will not just appear dark and dismal, but one will assume that the darkness and miserableness will overtake them and leave them to drown in a pool of despair. I work with such a person and I find their constant “Woe is me” attitude hard to handle. Everything out of her mouth is negative and depressing. I avoid her every chance I can – because being around her feels sad and powerless– always. And it doesn't make sense to me. She has raised 6 successful children, has 7 cute grandbabies, but even when she speaks of them, sour, bitter and adverse words spew from her mouth. But the saddest part of her dark color is, she can't even see the good when it is gift wrapped and handed to her.

“Oh, Susan, here, take a look at my youngest grandbaby! Isn’t he adorable? I would have had more pictures to show you but my daughter-in-law wouldn’t let me hold him, so I only have these three.”

“Susan, did I tell you my husband won a 7 day Caribbean cruise? Now, you know, I’ll have to take off time from work. And at the busiest time of the year too. I’m sure my principal will have a fit .  There is no way I will ever get caught up”

“Hey – I brought donuts for everyone. I hope you enjoy them. I can’t eat that stuff. I have problems with my blood sugar and my weight. I would just make myself sick.”

However, on the opposite side, if one has the eyes of Pollyanna – where everything is perfect, things will not just appear bright and sappy, but one will assume that beauty and joy will overtake everything, leaving them to swim in an ocean of Nirvana – and that everyone else should be floating right along with them.

“She had a miscarriage? Oh well, she’s young, she can have another.” 

“He got laid off? Well God’s just giving him time to be with his family.” 

“She has chronic pain and can’t get off the couch? Wow – how wonderful to have all of that free time to read books!”

I do not want to live life looking through lenses that are tinted with darkness – or overexposed to unrealistic brightness.  I cannot clearly see to act or respond to those around me if I view life through either extremes.  It is true that God wants us to live happy joyful lives

 "The thief's purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life" - John 10:10 NLT

And it is equally true that we live in a fallen world with real pain and real sorrow.

"I get nothing but trouble all day long; every morning brings me pain" - Psalm 73:14 NLT

But knowing the God who is in control, and knowing that He will be with us in all things.

"God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; Though its waters roar and foam, Though the mountains quake at its swelling pride ... The LORD of hosts is with us; The God of Jacob is our stronghold." - Psalm 46:1-3, 7 NASB

gives us the ‘right’ color of attitude to see the world – one that is vibrant, deep and rich!

Linking up with Jackie Sill today from Adventures in the Ordinary! 







- I just couldn't resist messing around with some photos for this blog...it really is fun! :)

Through His Eyes

Today I am linking up with the Red Writing Hood over at the red dress club and responding to the prompt – Lesson Learned

I was a new bride. Barely married for a month – still unpacking boxes and opening gifts when I decided to surprise my husband with a romantic dinner for two. I did not know much about cooking 20 plus years ago (some might say I still do not know much) but like many newlywed innocents, I had a vision of a night of fun, romance, candle light, good food and wowing the socks (and a few other items) off my husband. I planned to use my culinary graces to create a a meal he would always remember and to employ my amazing ambiance skills to lavish an intimate, romantic setting on our dining room card table. All I needed, I thought, was a good recipe, some candles and a negligée, and when he walked in the door of our little apartment, he would feel like a king.

But when my husband walked in the door that night – a kingly romantic feast was not what awaited him. I was wearing the negligée, but the table wasn’t set, the dinner was on fire, the smoke detector was going off, the kitchen was filled with smoke, and I was in tears.
My husband greeted me warmly, opened the windows, took the chicken off the stove and began to set the table. He lit the candles, turned on the stereo and graciously served us burnt chicken, crispy vegetables and lopsided strawberry cake for dessert. We talked, we laughed, and he ate every piece of the burnt, dry, tasteless, crispy chicken, every one of the cold-in-the-center-half-frozen vegetables, and never mentioned even once that the cake was geometrically challenged. The evening ended as I had planned – but we did not get there in the way I had envisioned. It wasn’t my love being poured out on him – but his love poured out on me that redeemed what could have been a quite disastrous evening.
I awoke the next morning and turned on the news to learn that the Detroit Pistons had won the Final Championship game over the Los Angeles Lakers while my husband and I ate our “dinner.” Not only did we not watch the game – but my husband never even mentioned that it was on.
Lesson Learned

Small Changes

Today I am linking up with On Your Heart Tuesdays hosted by Shanda Oakley.

I want to live a life that is full of joy - and free from chains of bondage.  I want to experience the fullness of a life that is empowered by God to share His love and His grace in a world that so desperately needs it.  And even though that is what I want, I find that that is not what I am currently experiencing.  What I am experiencing is a mundane, boring life of chores and routine.  So a few days ago I made a conscience effort - a decision, to find joy again.  I found a devotional on my Bible AP that encourages me to read, pray, and reflect on selected scriptures daily for 21 days and to listen - really listen to God.  During this time, I am also asked to fast from something.  At first, I wasn't sure what I could possibly fast from - as I thought I didn't have anything in my life to give up.  Cooking?  No, I have a family to feed.  Exercise?  No, I gave that up months ago.  Work? No, for obvious reasons...the only thing that came to mind was TV.

Really?  TV? No TV for 21 days?  But I don't actually watch TV, I argued with myself.   I just have it on.  I turn it on in the morning while I am doing my make-up and getting dressed.  It's on while I am washing dishes or folding laundry.  It's on while I am cooking dinner, eating a snack...it is just always on.  It is a companion of conversation throughout my day.  So I thought, OK, that's legit.  But it won't be a difficult sacrifice...

I can't even begin to tell you how many times I have absent mindedly reached for the remote...how I actually missed the chatter this morning while getting ready for work.  I am both shocked - and embarrassed to discover that it really has been integrated into my existence...and I am glad to be able to unplug myself from it!

Two days into the 21 day journey and I was slightly amused to listen to my pastor open his sermon talking about how many of us feel like we are living mundane, boring lives of chores and routine and we are missing out on joy.  It was exactly what I needed to hear!  Although he shared several helpful ideas what resonated most with me were the ideas of making little changes - small changes that over time add up to big changes, and that when we don't follow through with our little change, to leave it with God, 'forget' about it and keep moving forward. 

"Brethren, I do not  regard  myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus " - Philippians 3:13-14 NASB

Three days in and I had accomplished all of my core goals for the day -  even though I had to get up at 4:30 this morning to make it happen. I completed the Bible reading for the day, I prayed, I 'listened' and reflected on the scripture.  Feeling confident, I decided to set another goal for the day - a small, little change that I hoped would move me in a forward direction and I determined that today, I would eat only food that is good for my body.  Breakfast - check.  Mid morning snack - check.  Lunch - oops...  But instead of berating myself and giving up on my 'little' changes, I am encouraging myself with the scriptures I read this morning and the verses posted above - and instead of quitting it all, sitting down and watching TV (Doctor Who, none the less) with my family, I am continuing with my TV fast, continuing with my small changes and celebrating the victories I did accomplished today. 

It wasn't a perfect day - but tomorrow will be day 4, and I am still pressing on.

Six Word Saturday Blog Post

Twenty-one days to retool the mundane

Yesterday I wrote a blog post - for the first time in a loooong time. For weeks now I have been feeling, well flat. Disinterested, bored with, well, everything. A friend reminded me earlier this week that I needed to write again - so out of respect for a promise I made to her, I wrote. And as I wrote, I realized that I no longer had a creative outlet in my life - no place where I could experiment and wonder and imagine, and I began to think perhaps there might, just might, be a connection! With homes and husbands and children come tasks and chores and obligations - all of which I am quite grateful for, but, if that is all I am doing...then life does tend to feel blurred, unimaginative, flat.
So, for the next 21 days (starting today) I am going to make it a priority to read, pray, write and create something- daily. I do not know what my creations will be.  Maybe a new recipe, or a new page in a long forgotten photo album, or maybe it will take the form of a poem or a blog post.  I truly do not know what it will look like but I am going to try.  And to help create space for this I am also going to fast from TV, and replace it with the sounds of silence, of the keyboard clacking, or perhaps some inspriring music but no TV, no constant chattering in the background, no fun stories to distract me, and see if I can't find some joy again.

The Challenge of Finding Joy

Beach day arrived with great anticipation of sun, good friends, cool water and a hot bonfire. The day had been on the calendar for weeks - thanks to my event planning friend, and I was ready to enjoy the day to its fullest. Unfortunately, that is not how it played out.

Instead, we left later than I wanted - but not before I had developed a rather ugly attitude which grew nastier as we sat in traffic only to discover the parking lot was full and we would have to find parking on the street, miles away. Ok, so maybe we didn't actually park miles away, but in my irritated state it sure felt like it. And, we had to put lots of money in a ravenous parking meter just for the privilege of leaving our car on the side of the road. Of course we did not have enough coins with us to to satisfy it and I set an alarm to remind me at some point I needed to hike back to the car at least once or I would get a ticket.

We grabbed our towels and chairs and sunscreen and left our cooler in the car since not only did we not have a parking spot, we also did not have a firepit. We walked through the streets, through the parking lot (which was now accepting cars) and through the sand to find our friends. We set up our chairs and towels slightly away from everyone so we could make a large circle as we needed room for others who would join us later. And then, my daughter and I made a new hike through the sand, this time to the bathroom. While on the boardwalk, I called another daughter who was circling the beach trying to find parking. She of course had no money for a meter and did not know where she was. I told her I could meet her at the signal - since I was halfway there, and that I could get her change with the dollars I had. No, she could take care of it she said. So, I hiked back through the scorching sand to my chair. But, before I could sit down, my daughter called. Could I bring her quarters, she asked. Sigh, yes, I said, and back to the car I went. It took me longer this time, as I had to stop at two different shops to get $4 in change for my $5 bill to feed yet another hungry meter.
After an eternity of walking, I settled into my chair on the sand, only to hear that a grill was arriving and we needed our cooler from the car. Up I rose from my place of pseudo rest and peace and repeated the trek to the car and back again. We had now been at the beach for two hours and I had relaxed a whole five minutes. But this time, upon arriving back to our circle of friends, I found that the circle had grown quite large in my absence - and it grew completely away from me. Sitting in my chair meant sitting all alone - unless I wanted to pack up our towels, our chairs, our food and our boards and move them to join the others - and quite frankly, I didn't.

What had begun as a day that promised to be the highlight of my summer had become a dreary day of dull, repetitive tasks that left me tired and disconnected from the relaxing, playful and beautiful environment the beach had to offer. And as the sun set and the cold wind kicked up, we left. We were too cold to enjoy the evening – so instead we made the final hike to our car and drove home through traffic. 
As I reflected on this day - I couldn't help but think how much it was becoming a metaphor of my life. Each day seems to break with promises of new adventure and joy but is seemingly interrupted by repetive dull and meaningless tasks. Although I do not spend each day hiking to and from my car, I do get up, drive the kids, clean the kitchen, drive the kids, straighten the house, drive the kids, cook dinner, drive the kids...and the tasks, over time, lose their meaning. They all blur together and my life feels meaningless, flat, depleted of energy, and disconnected from the wonder around me.   I used to long for the lazy endless days of summer, but now I find that they are slipping by filled not with fun, refreshment and joy, but chores that need to be done. Flat, dry, boring, routines that leave precious little energy to create, to dream, to plan, to hope.

So today I am challenging myself to a new task, I am daring myself to find a way to accomplish my chores and still have time to create. Still have time to delight, to laugh, to live with joy, to still have the energy at the end of the day to pick up my chair and join my circle of friends before everything becomes a blur of meaningless routine. 

Hopefully, this is a task I can find the energy to do!

12:15 AM Again

This is my first attempt at a blog hop.  It was a lot of fun...hope you enjoy too!

This was absolutely the last time that she was going to procrastinate. She couldn't do it any more - let things build up and pile up until she felt like the weight of everything could crush her. 12:15 AM and the house was still a mess, the dishes from dinner still strewn all over the counters and the alarm set to go off at 5:00 AM tomorrow - no, not tomorrow, later today!

"AHHHHHH" she screamed inside her head chastising herself. “I cannot keep this pace up! I know better than to put things off like this. Especially important things." And yet, as she thought about it, it wasn't that she had been lazy, or idle. She had made plans, good plans to finish everything, but she was interrupted. Something came up. Something always came up. She had to drop this to care for that. Put off doing this so she could do that. Take care of her - take care of him, this one that one, and now, there was no more time. So much to do and no time.

She wondered how others did it. How did they take care of everything and everyone without going crazy? She was losing sleep, forgetting things, running out of time, out of patience, out of desire. With so much before her on her to do list she could not even bring herself to a point of desire - a point of urgency to do the things - any of the things on her list. It was no use, something had to give...but what? What in her life was unnecessary? The children? Definitely not. The clean house? She smiled - she gave that up a long time ago. The job? No, she'd been doing it for years - she could handle that. Then what? What in her life could she possibly let go of to make her days more manageable?

“I know” she thought. That's it! That's what I can give up that will give me back my life. That's what I can do that will free me to do my tasks! I'll stop blogging!” She smiled - laughed out loud from relief! “Yes, yes, YES that's it! I'm free!” Relieved, she moved to her comfy bed anticipating sweet mindless dreams and a day of accomplishment ahead.

But she was wrong. Give up blogging? Blogging had become her lifeline - her link to sanity, to her emotions, and to her thoughts. It's what allowed her to bring clarity to the chaos of thoughts running around in her head. Blogging gave her the ability to make sense out of the wonderings - the wanderings and the musings in her mind. Give up blogging? She might as well give up breathing. Give up blogging? No, she couldn’t stop doing that. She was wrong.

Z is for Zebu and other Celebratory Markers

I don't know if there are markers, things in your life that serve as a reminder to you.  Reminders in your life that cause you to react, or respond.  For example, water reminds me to pray for people I know in Hawaii.  A candle reminds me that I am not alone in my walk with Christ.  A brick causes me to remember I need to be diligent to take down the walls in my life.  And a zebu reminds me to give thanks with all of my heart.


The zebu is a type of cattle found mostly in South Asia, but they can be found in many different countries where they have been cross bred to create a cattle that produces a better meat and are better suited to work in hot climates.  They are used as oxen, as dairy and beef cattle, and for their hide.  I learned of the zebu, not in a biology class, or a zoology class, but rather, I learned about the zebu, more commonly referred to as cebu, by watching Veggie Tales.
When our children were preschool age, our home was filled with Veggie Tale video tapes. The kids loved them and we found them quite humorous ourselves, so we enjoyed them too.  The songs were catchy, the humor was simple - but there were also underlying jokes that adults could enjoy too.  And the messages were always good.  When our youngest was three, and we would ask her what video she would like to watch, she would sing the entire Veggie Tales theme song before naming the video she wanted to watch.  It was cute.  The first time.


The Veggie Tales videos would have Silly Songs with Larry, in addition to their main story.  Larry would sing songs about his hair brush, his cheeseburger, and his pet cebu,  (also known as a zebu), just to mention a few of his silly songs.  So, when thinking about the letter Z, one word I could not get out of my head, was zebu.  (mostly because once I thought of that word, Larry's silly song has been running through my brain nonstop ever since), and zebu (obviously) made me think of Veggie Tales, and thinking about Veggie Tales reminds me of a very stressful time in our family.  A time when I was so exhausted, I could barely get through the day. For an entire month, my husband and I had additional responsibilities that we needed to tend to that took us 6 hours each day to complete - in addition to our jobs, in addition to 'normal' outside activities, and in addition to raising our three young children.   The circumstances that lead to our family obtaining additional obligations are not mine to tell - but the stress was our children's too.  During this wearying month letting the girls watch veggie tales - every night, every single night, for an entire month helped with them.  So Z is for Zebu which reminds me of Veggie Tales, which reminds me of a difficult time which brings me to the celebratory portion.
During this month of stress, I found myself angry.  Angry with God, angry with the situation, and our home was no longer a place of peace, or joy, or a place anyone wanted to be.  I was reading Psalms at the time, and this verse jumped out at me "I will give thanks to You, O Lord my God, with all my heart, And will glorify Your name forever" and I told God, "No, I can't do that.  Not now.  I cannot be thankful now."  But the verse wouldn't let me go.  So I gave in.  One night, I fixed a simple dinner - but I put out our best china, a table cloth and candles.  I bought some Martinellis and told my family we were going to celebrate and give thanks.  They thought I was crazy. 
"What," they said, "just what are we celebrating?" 
"Our circumstances."  They just stared at me. 


But we did it.  We had a candlelight dinner.  We used the good dishes.  We opened up the sparkling fruit juice - and we started to give thanks.  Soon, we were laughing, sharing stories and our home became a place of joy again - all because we gave thanks with all of our hearts in the middle of some trying days.  The kids were quite little then - and they don't remember the night.  But I do.  I remember that in stressful times I am to still give thanks with all of my heart. And because that time in our life was closely associated with Veggie Tales, those videos, and a water buffalo cattle called a zebu, will always serve as markers to me to remind me to give thanks to God with all of my heart.

Y is for Yakity Yak

I love to talk.  And talk.  And talk.  I enjoy conversation.  Well, I enjoy it when people are listening to me converse.  Talking, it comes quite naturally to me.  Listening…not so much.  Listening is something that I have had to work on.  And work.  And work.  Listening is not just about being silent while someone else speaks.  Listening involves thinking and asking and responding to what you are hearing.  Listening is an active undertaking – it is not passive.  I am much better at listening than I used to be.  I am better at asking questions, I am better at filtering out negative emotions in heated discussions to hear what is really being said – but I am not perfect at it by any means.  I have tons of room to improve. But sometimes when things are difficult to do, we are aware of our shortcomings and we make a conscious effort to change and grow.  And sometimes, when things are easy, we do not think about it – we just do it.  Talking for me has always been effortless.  I can easily fill up space with words.  And as a result – I haven't always given it much attention.  In the past, I rarely thought much of how carelessly I used words.  How inconsiderate and reckless I could be with what would jump out of my mouth. Over the years, God has been helping me with it.  He has been - and continues to be patiently teaching me to stop with the yakity yak.

The first step was when I began to focus on listening - to myself.  As I began to hear the words - really hear what was coming out of my mouth, I discovered I was spending a great deal of time with meaningless chatter.  Not that it is wrong to have light, pleasant conversations, but it is wrong to monopolize a conversation, especially if what you are saying is fairly pointless.  I also learned that I gossip.  And no, I really didn't realize it before.  Idle words, thoughtless words, words disguised as prayer requests - too many of my words were not about lifting someone up.  They were not about carefully drawing them into the presence of the LORD, but they were about disseminating unflattering information that I did not need to disseminate.

The second step to help me with my yakity yakking, was to learn to think before I spoke (yes, I know, that's not a novel idea to most people). As I started considering my words I realized that I was running to people first with my concerns and my worries, my disappointments and my hurts - not to God.  I remember a few years ago when a very close friend and I had a significant disagreement.  I remember while we were discussing our conflict she said to me, "And I already talked to several other people about this and they agree with me."  My first impulse was to get off the phone with her, and call as many of the 'several other people' I could think of and defend my name.  But instead, I turned to God.  I prayed, I read scripture, I journaled.  I prayed some more.  And overtime, our friendship was not only repaired, but God brought healing to both of our lives in a very profound way through the restoration of our friendship.  Had I instead chosen to yakity yak with my friends, under the guise of defending myself, I do not think the outcome would be the same.  People's impressions of her - and me, would have been tainted if I had ran to my own defense.

And now - I'm working on another step - not that I have fully mastered the first two yet.  But currently I am also realizing just how powerful words really are.   I am trying to not treat words with casual indifference.  I have been known to speak quickly without filtering, without considering the full ramifications of what I was saying, or rather, what someone else might be hearing.  When that occurs, I hurt people’s feelings.  I cause them to doubt themselves, and to doubt me.  I am trying to become more aware of choosing words that mean something rather than saying sounds to simply fill up empty space.  I am trying to learn to be cautious with the words that come out of my mouth.  But, I still have a long ways to go.  I still quite regularly let words fall out of my mouth that hurt and do not need to be said.  Just ask my daughters - they'll be happy to testify to that!

X

X is for X-Ray

I am not a big fan of the dentist –for a number of reasons, but mostly because I am a wimp and I don’t like pain.  I have a great dentist, and he is very aware of how much I do not like pain because I remind him.  Often.  He really does go out of his way to minimize any pain I might encounter while sitting in his chair, and I greatly appreciate that.  Once, he even offered to buy me a bottle of wine if I felt even the slightest bit of discomfort.  The hygienists, however, are not always so kind.  Sometimes just the process of getting my teeth cleaned can be a very uncomfortable experience.  Mostly, it is the sound made while she is scraping my teeth that drives me crazy.  I am also not a big fan of the whole x-ray process. 

I don’t mind the large lead apron that they cover you with to absorb the excess radiation while leaving your brain exposed.  But it’s the way that the film is situated in my mouth that I find uncomfortable – and sometimes even painful.  The contraption that the film is placed on is shaped oddly and placed precariously in my mouth.  The hygienist then asks me to hold my mouth slightly closed, keeping the device precisely placed while she leaves the room to go have a cup of coffee.  While she is gone, the apparatus inevitably slips into a painful position that I am resigned to hold until she returns only to tell me we have to do it all over again because I moved.  Yep.  I am not a big fan of dental x-rays.

And yet, I subject myself to them faithfully.  I have my teeth cleaned every 6 months and a complete round of x-rays every year.  I do this because I want to have a healthy mouth.  I want to catch problems early so that they can be resolved simply and with the least invasive procedure possible, should a problem be found.  Sometimes, I can feel pain in my mouth and I know I am going to need to have work done.  Other times, I cannot see the problems at all – but having an X-ray will point it out.  X-rays are a helpful tool used in dentistry, and the medical field to see what is going on inside, beneath the surface. Even in travel and air safety x-rays are common.  In fact, just last month I found myself holding still, raising my arms and sucking in my stomach while an airport screener x-rayed me.  Yes, there is no getting around the importance of checking out what lies beneath.  And just as physical x-rays are a vital part of our good health, regular spiritual x-rays are important too.

Reading the Bible daily, studying, memorizing and meditating on scripture is a good habit.  It informs us and can shed light on areas in our life that we can work on or improve.  It helps us to understand and know God.  It reveals His character and helps us have a more intimate relationship with Him.  Prayer too draws us into a deeper, more personal and more meaningful connection.  But there is step in the process of intimacy with God that is a bit more difficult and sometimes ignored.  It is when we ask God to look into our minds, our hearts, our souls, and search the places that we cannot see, the areas where we may not be informed, and ask Him to show us where we need His power, and His cleansing work.   It is when we, in essence, ask Him to x-ray us. 

In Psalm 19:12-13 it says “Who can discern his errors?  Forgive my hidden faults.  Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression.”  When I read those verses this morning, I was reminded of the necessity of having God find and root out the things in my life of which I may not be aware.  Psalm 139:34 requests it this way, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.” And Psalm 51:6 puts it like this “Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place.”  We are called to ask God to search us, to look at our deepest places and deal with What He finds there.  And just like I am not a fan of dental x-rays, I am not huge fan of spiritual ones either.

Asking God to show me where I am failing, where I need to adjust an attitude, or change a habit, or be more loving towards someone I would rather avoid, is not an enjoyable process.  But, it needs to be done.  I need times, regular times, where I am still before God, quiet, patient, and willing to let Him do His work in me – all of me.  I need to be humble, fully surrendered, and ready to hear what He wants to show me.  Sometimes, it’s a good report, sometimes, I need to do something different - maybe even difficult, but either way, giving God permission and time to x-ray me is a vital and critical part of staying healthy and growing in my faith.

W is for Wishing

When I was a little girl my grandmother would send me a birthday card every year that told me I could make three wishes for my birthday, and she always promised to make at least one of them come true.  Although I truly only remember my annual wish, I do have vague recollections of my mother being mortified by the outlandishness of some of my other wishes.  But my annual wish, that I have not forgotten.  The annual wish - Disneyland.  Every year my grandmother, my mom and I would pack the car and drive two hours to go to Disneyland - the happiest place on earth.  We would go on all of the rides I was tall enough to go on - until we ran out of "E" tickets, and then we had to ride the 'other' rides.  Sometimes we would spend the night and go the next day too.  One time, she even let us stay at the Disney Grand Hotel.  I loved my birthday wishes and I loved that I had a grandmother who was willing to make my wishes come true.  Even when they were extravagant wishes that embarrassed my mother, like wishing I could go to England and walah!  I went.

At some point I outgrew my birthday wishes - but I never outgrew wishing for things.  As a teenager my wishes went something like this: "I wish I could have a car for my birthday." Or,  "I wish that boy would like me."  Or "I wish I hadn't said that...done that...eaten that..."  And even now, I still have wishes - "I wish I had our house paid off," or "I wish summer were here," or "I wish I could go to Europe."  We all have wishes, hopes, desires, no matter what our age.  But one of the problem with wishes, is that we often treat them as if we have no power - no ability to make the wishes happen.  We stay childlike and wait around for someone else to come and grant them.  Someone like God.

And when He doesn't grant our wishes, we can become angry, resentful, hurt, bitter.  The truth is that many wishes we do have the power to make happen.  I can stop eating the bag of chips.  I can rearrange my financial priorities and save for the trip to Europe.  It might take a long time to save enough money.  A really really long time, but there are things that I can make happen, but I don't.  I buy things I don't need, eat out when I don't feel like cooking and then, I get mad at God because He isn't giving me my wish for  _______ (fill in the blank). 

But there's another problem with wishes too.  Sometimes we truly can't make them happen.  Sometimes we are powerless to make them happen and God is the only one who can make our wishes come true.  Wishes like, "I wish my parents wouldn't get divorced." Or, "I wish my child wasn't so sick."  Or, "I wish he would stop drinking."  And sometimes God doesn't make our wishes come true, no matter how much we beg and plead.  No matter how selfless and good the wish seems, sometimes God doesn't grant it for us.  Sometimes parents do divorce, children stay sick, and sometimes, people never stop drinking, even though it causes others to hurt.  And when God doesn't magically grant the wish we desire, we have a choice to make.  We can choose to become angry and bitter - or we can choose to give Him not just our wish, but the outcome of our wish too.  We can choose to trust Him that no matter whether we get our wish or not, He can use it to bring glory to Him and blessing to us.  That is not an easy thing to do all the time, but when I do trust Him, He does bring beauty out of it - no matter how 'it' turns out.  And even if I don't get to see it.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

V is for Vacation

It all out started innocently enough, a few families, sitting around a friend’s dining room table, staring at a map of the US, reminiscing about places we had seen as children.  We all had stories to tell of trips gone wrong, dads who lost tempers over whiny children, children who were left in hotel rooms by parents who thought ‘someone else’ had them, and tales of siblings bonding over endless hours sitting in the back of the family car playing the license plate game. It wasn’t long before the reminiscing became dreaming and the dreaming became planning -and planning became the vacation of a lifetime.  Before the summer’s end, we would travel over 5,000 miles together.  In a motorhome.  Together.  Over 5000 miles and 21 days.  Together.  In a motorhome.  

After hours and hours of planning and negotiating the adventure, we decided on our route.  We would drive the middle of the country on the way out, and hit the southern route on the way back.  Our trip started on a Saturday morning around 6AM.  A family of four and me with our three girls loaded into a motorhome and headed out to see our great country.  First stop, The Orange, just a few miles down the road.  We jumped out of the motorhome – well some of us jumped while others grumbled, stumbled and whined, seeing that we were only 25 minutes away from our house and we were stopping to see a big Orange on the side of the road.  We took some pictures, met the owner, who opened up the restaurant so we could tour inside, and soon we were on the road again.

While we drove with the intention of seeing the ‘usual’ sites, we also stumbled onto some more out of the way places and attractions like the Orange that gave our trip a more organic, simpler feel than a frenzied destination driven experience.  We stood on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, we had our picture taken with the “Big Texan,” and we ate frozen custard in St. Louis.  We chased fireflies in the Ozarks and met some of the most delightful people while we were lost.  (Met some scary people too, but that’s a whole other post)  We watched the sunrise over Pennsylvania farmhouses and dipped our toes in the Atlantic Ocean.  Other families joined us along the way and we explored Central Park in New York, ate pizza on the steps of some brownstone apartments, and had our picture taken in front of the world’s largest guitar.  We watched Fourth of July Fireworks on the Mall in DC and walked for miles to find food.  We played board games, sang show tunes and listened to stories on tape.  We ate at the Pig Out Palace and the Cracker Barrel.  We saw Ground Zero and placed our hands on the memorial at Oklahoma City.  We visited Sky City in New Mexico and got caught in a terrible thunderstorm in Ohio - and in DC.   We played hide n seek in Totem Pole Park and the Bass Store – yes, we were entertained for hours in a Bass Store.  We drove through Memphis and Oklahoma City and even Roswell, not one of original the places on the itinerary.  But, as wonderful as the trip was, we had some disappointments too.

We missed New Orleans and didn’t get to see Bourbon Street.  We didn’t get to sip mint juleps on a terrace while watching southern belles stroll down the sidewalks.  We didn’t get to enjoy southern hospitality or see the French Quarter.  There was a hurricane that summer, and the motorhome just couldn’t take the winds, and we ended up having to travel home the same road that we had taken on our way out.  Oh well, we shrugged it off – no big deal, there’s always next year.  How were we to know, that just a few moments in time later the New Orleans that we had so casually postponed to another vacation was headed to a disaster?

Years have now passed, the children are nearly grown and haven’t much interest in driving across the country with mom and dad.  While we had a wonderful time, and we are all still friends, we never did make it to New Orleans, and the days of little kids crammed in a motorhome for long road trips are long since gone.  The vacations of old are beautiful memories to treasure and stories to be retold to friends around dining room tables.  And who knows, it might not be too long before one of our children find themselves sitting around a dining room table swapping stories with friends only to find themselves planning their vacation of a lifetime.

U is for Under the Covers

I love my blankets.  I love crawling into bed at night with three or four heavy wool blankets and my comforter surrounding me.  I like the feel of their weight.  They make me feel warm, relaxed, and ready to surrender to the night.  I like to snuggle and burrow myself deep down into the bed so I am practically invisible.  If I am cold at all during the night – I cannot sleep.  I will toss and turn but I will not sleep if there is the slightest hint of cold touching my body.  My husband – who will generally kick off even a sheet, does not share my passion for being covered in layers and layers of blankets.  He finds them constricting and he can’t move.  They tangle his feet and he wakes up unable to sleep under their suffocating weight.

That is the problem with blankets.  They can suffocate, and when we live our lives buried underneath them, covering up who we really are, we become entangled in a mess.  If you have read any of my earlier blog posts, you know that through college I did not always live up to the expectations of one who claims to be following Christ.  And while I was learning, there were lots of steps forward, but there were some huge steps backwards as well.  I remember one occasion sharing with a Christian woman some of my struggles – even naming some of the sins I had committed, and while she herself was very kind, she warned me that I should never talk about these things because people would judge me and gossip about me.  I respected this woman a great deal, so I took her words to heart.

Unfortunately, trying to live your life with a big chunk of it covered up, is not easy to do.  I wasn’t sure how to deal with the dirty laundry that I had accumulated – and, was continuing to accumulate.  And since I wasn’t supposed to share with anyone, I covered it up. I hid it under a blanket where no one could see.  I continued to live my life, attempting as best I could to live like Christ wanted me to, but on those occasions when I didn’t, I just shoved those things to the pile under the cover of my blanket.

On the outside, I looked good.  I looked righteous, I looked like the pristine example of a Christian, but on the inside, where I kept my dirty laundry hidden under layers of blankets – it was beginning to stink.  And the pile seemed to keep growing.  So, unable to take the suffocating weight of it all, I did what I had been advised not to do, I began to let people see the dirty laundry that I was hiding under the blankets.

And, in doing so, I was able to get the laundry clean.  Each person that I shared with helped me carry some of the dirty clothes to the foot of the cross where Christ cleaned them – and made me clean.  The confessions would cause me to feel better, stronger, and then, I would take my laundry, clean now, fold it all up in nice neat piles and put them right back under the blanket where they stayed hidden.  Never realizing that even though my laundry was now clean, and it was no longer a burden in my life, I was still covering up, still sharing only a slice of who I am – and in doing so, I was concealing the healing power of Christ in my life.  It is one thing to say, “I am a sinner, healed by Christ” and quite another to say, “Here is my journey, here is where Christ has cleansed me and this is how He continues to bring healing in my life.”

I am not there yet.  I have kicked off some of the covers and let a selected, hand-picked few in – but it’s scary.  “What if people gossip about me?  What if people say terrible things about me? What if I lose their respect?  What if they hate me and no longer want to associate with me?”  However, slowly, with the help of good friends and God’s prompting, I am learning to live without the blankets that cover up Christ’s amazing redemptive work in my life.  I am learning to walk in obedience and share what He has done.  I am learning to live without the blankets in my life – but not at night, I’m not giving up the blankets on my bed anytime soon!

T is for Transition

Once, when I was a fifth grade elementary school teacher, our school was short on subs. I had a student teacher at the time, so I said I would help by filling in for an hour in the Kindergarten class. When I arrived the students were coloring quietly at their desks. The teacher had left on a personal emergency, so there were no written plans. The principal introduced me to the students, and told me to let them color for about 15 more minutes and then call them to the circle rug. She said that I should pick out a story and read to them. After the story I was to let them out into the yard so they could run and play until it was time to go home.

I glanced at the clock when the principal left, noted the time, and began walking around the room. After five minutes had passed, I announced to the class that in 10 minutes we would clean up and have story time. I continued to walk the classroom, smiling at the children, asking them about their pictures, complimenting them, and keeping an eye on the clock. Five more minutes passed and I made the second announcement. "In five minutes, boys and girls, we will clean up and have story time!" I said with as much five year old excitement in my voice as I could muster. And I continued my stroll around the room.

Finally, it was time to transition from coloring to story time. All teachers know that the transition time, the time in between one activity and the next is a critical time. If the students do not move quickly, orderly, and quietly to the next task then all discipline can be lost and mayhem can break out. If a teacher is going to lose control of a classroom it is most likely going to happen in between lessons.  Now, being a fifth grade teacher, I wasn't at all frightened of a bunch of 5 and 6 year olds. Besides, I had done exactly what you are supposed to do with students when transitioning from one activity to the next. This was going to be a piece of cake.

"Alright boys and girls, it's time to come to the rug for story time!" I declared. "It's time to put your crayons and drawings away and clean up so we can read a story!" With that statement, all of the children began putting their crayons away and placing their pictures into their cubbies. All of the children except Joey. Joey did not stop when I asked the children to stop. He kept right on coloring. I moved over towards Joey and placed my hand softly on his shoulder. "Joey," I said quietly. "It's time to put your crayons away. You may color later." Then I walked over to the teacher's chair by the rug and sat down.  As each table finished, I called them to come sit on the circle rug to wait. As they were called they came quietly and sat criss-cross-applesauce with their hands folded in their laps. I looked over towards Joey's table and saw everyone seated and ready to be called. Everyone except Joey. Joey was still coloring. "Joey," I said from across the room with some firmness in my voice. "You must put your things away now." The three little girls at Joey's table began frantically putting away his crayons and encouraging him to stop. But Joey didn't want to stop. Joey took one of his arms and folded it across his paper and hunkered down. He had no intention of stopping.

All eyes were on me. "Joey you need to put your coloring away and come to the rug," I said with authority. "Or you will be taken to the principal's office." The girls at Joey's table gasped. The children on the rug became wide eyed with fear (Apparently being sent to the principal's office is just a tad more traumatic as a five year-old than as a fifth grader). Tears began to run down Joey's cheeks. He tightened his arm around his drawing as the concerned and panicked girls tried to make him stop.  He began coloring harder and faster.  "Joey!" they pleaded, "You have to stop!" One girl managed to pry the paper from underneath him and ran it to his cubby while the others put away the last of his crayons. The girls came to the rug and I began the story, leaving Joey to sit in his chair.

After the story, all of the children went out to play.  All except for Joey.  Joey still sat in his chair.  Alone - alone and sad.  I watched Joey from the door - never leaving him out of my sight, while I also kept an eye on the other children who were laughing and playing outside.  I realized while standing there, reflecting on what had transpired, that Joey didn't know me.  He didn't know he could trust me.  He had no prior experience with me to know that I had something good and wonderful planned.  That following me would make everything better.  Instead, he chose to cling to what was past- and that resulted in him missing out.  Instead of running around outside, playing and laughing with his classmates, he was sitting inside sad and alone.

Several years later, I found myself on the verge of numerous changes. My husband had been laid off from his job.  I was being moved from one school to another, our children were all changing schools, the pastor of our church had resigned, and my parents were moving 1500 miles away.  I was not happy.  I did not want a new school - for me or my children.  I did not want a new pastor, nor did I want my parents to move 1500 miles away from me or their grandchildren.  And I was most certainly not happy that my husband did not have a job.  And, I let God know.  Repeatedly.  Over and Over again.  I was not happy. 

And then, one day, while I was whining to God I remembered.  I remembered Joey.  I saw him with his arm stubbornly laying across the table holding tightly to his drawing.  I saw the tears streaming down his face.  I saw the other children around him, trying to help, trying to keep him on track.  And I remembered my thoughts.  I recalled thinking how Joey didn't know he could trust me. He had no prior experience with me to know that I had something good and wonderful planned. That following me would make everything better. Instead, he chose to cling to what what was past- and that resulted in him missing out.  I started to wonder about the one in control of my life, and I had to ask myself.  "Do I not know Him?  Have I not experienced His working in my life?  Do I not believe that following Him would make everything better?  Don't I trust Him?" And then it became clear to me. I was Joey,  stubbornly holding onto my crayons, coloring my picture while God was calling me to come sit on the rug and listen to a story.  And I saw that it was time.  Time to put my crayons away and come sit on the rug.  Because I do know God and I do trust that He will make everything better.  Even when I can't see it for myself.