The Beaver Who Launched a Thousand Words (Or More)!

I have identified as a writer since my mom made such a big "to-do" over a poem I wrote in third grade. It was about, of all things, a stuffed beaver Dad had bought for me while in an airport somewhere on a business trip. I loved that thing! It was a big deal, for some reason. Not very big, not very impressive. Why my dad brought home a beaver is anybody's guess, but he was precious to me! I still have him somewhere. I saw him during one of our moves.

I went on to get degrees in English and journalism, and to work as a freelancer. I have never veered from my first love. It's lain dormant at times, but the seeds of love for the well-turned phrase, the glitteringly perfect description of life's intangibles have never left my heart.

Isn't it glorious to have a calling, a passion, something that thrills you to practice? What's yours? Don't know? Think long and hard about what work you do that does not feel like work on any level. One night recently on a sunset motorcycle ride, Gary and I passed a man with his garage door up. He was hunched over a table with some pieces of wood on it. His garage was filled with wood. Easy to see what his passion was, even from the back of a speeding (lawfully, and within the speed limit - LOL) motorcycle. When I see something like that, it makes me want to say a prayer of thanks for people who pursue their passions. They enrich all of our lives with their services and creations. Their joy is contagious, too. I love to talk to people about what they do. It's fun to watch their eyes light up and to hear them find fulfillment in all of the details. It's about doing what you were made to do.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again. If your job does not fulfill you, find a hobby that combines all of your deepest passions. In time, this hobby may become your work. If not, CONTINUE TO PRACTICE IT! Sometimes just being who we are to the "nth" degree is God-glorifying! I remember watching my oldest son play with his blocks when he was very small. He made cities out of them, then called me in to appraise his efforts. Just watching him enjoy the endeavor brought a thrill to my heart. I believe God feels that way too. BE WHO HE MADE  YOU TO BE!

Love to you all!

Expectation

Day dawned beautifully here in East Tennessee. I can't see them from my back porch, but I'm sure the Great Smoky Mountains are sitting on the horizon, their stately forms overlapping each other in serene blue layers. They are as sure as the love of God that surrounds me here as I look into my backyard, listening to the birds sing and wondering how God will work out all of the challenges that loom large in my heart and mind.

Thing is, I know that HE WILL. He has upheld me in the worst of storms. Patiently cared for me as I ran to and fro in a panic. I am sure I looked to him, emotionally, like I looked to my neighbors the other night when I held a large, flapping, flimsy, faux-bamboo beach mat over my head in a rainstorm as I sallied out to rescue my rabbit Hershey from his outdoor play yard. Don't know that Hershey even needed rescue. He uses a corner of his play yard as a rain shelter. The massive evergreens overhead form a thick enough canopy for him there that, unless the rain is being driven sideways, he can stay pretty dry. I wonder if he was sorry that I snatched him up. I know that when I was caught in a rainstorm on the way to Laurel Falls, I rather enjoyed getting wet. The cool rain felt like a balm.

One exciting thing about serving the Lord is that we can wait, as my friend Emmanuel Chekwa would say "in joyful expectation" for God to act. We know that help is on the way, and it will be fun to see how wonderfully and perfectly He intervenes, what blessings he has in store for us.

I would encourage all of my readers today to believe that, no matter what you are facing, God is in control. He has a beautiful plan for your life. Trust Him fully in the storms and you'll enjoy the sunshine of His presence every single day. You'll find beauty in each step of the journey. You'll have joy when you least expect it.

Getting Old, Getting Bold

It's strange to be nearly 47 years old. Really strange. How so? Well, for starters, used to when I would start yet another diet and exercise regime, each day I would look in the mirror, hoping for improvement. I have finally rounded a corner and realized, to my everlasting chagrin, that things are not getting better in the looks department. In fact, no matter how skinny (or fat) I get, I'm just getting older. Need to stop hoping for things to improve in the mirror. Not happenin'!

There are other things. I realized that most of my closest friends don't live anywhere near me. Makes me sad. There's Amanda in Headland, Alabama. There are Sherry and Lori in Chattanooga. There's Heidi in Nebraska (who has not eyeballed me in the flesh in over twenty years, which could be the reason she still loves me) and Terri in Birmingham. There's Melissa in Mobile, a college friend who loved me in spite of my crazy, impatient and temperamental nature. She was always having to forgive me!

There's wonderful Nan in Franklin. She cried with me when I was at the end of my rope there, and sat with me while I hugged myself in grief and fear.

But, after a year in this city that I have grown to love, I don't have anyone except my Stephen minister, who is very, very faithful to me. She has loved me with the love of the Lord through so many ups and downs in recent months. She's not paid a dime for the hours of godly counsel she gives me.

I have always felt like I was on a desert island. I truly love people, and by all standards am very much a people-person. For whatever reason, however, it's tough for me to make close friends. I have lots of acquaintances because, quite frankly, I would talk to the proverbial telephone pole. But acquaintances don't really care when you are sitting at home on a Saturday night, listening to the cicadas, when you would rather be at a party. They aren't aware when you wake to face another day in a silent house with only your pets to keep you company. They shouldn't care! You haven't invested in them. They don't owe ya a thing. 

I have a unique habit that may (or may not) be hampering my social calendar. When I suspect that someone is about to reject me on any level at all, I flee the scene. Right quick. As in faster than a coon with a bag of chicken in his mouth. Warp speed. I have no tolerance for rejection, real or imagined. I have tried to work past this, with disastrous results. I don't like this stupid island I am on, but I don't know how to get off of it. So I decorate it with loner hobbies (like blogging), reading, cross stitch and latch hook (not knocking those pursuits, heaven knows I need them). I have tried to infuse my little island with a sense of normalcy, but the white picket fence I tried to install kept coming up out of the sand. I finally tossed it into the ocean and declared myself a loner who hates being alone.

Pastor preached a sermon today on being a "spring" rather than a "container." Just pouring ourselves out for others with no regard as to whether or not they load us up with their compliments, time, invitations. I agree with the call to selfless living and staying engaged with others. I agree with it wholeheartedly. Plan to ask God to help me to do it. Not having any local close friends does NOT mean sitting at the house anymore. Not going to do it. Can't do it anymore. Just chilling here tonight and getting some thoughts out. Get to be an old lady like me and you start to feel like it's okay to be you and to let people see who you really are.

Some things may never change. Or they might. Who knows. I gotta be alright either way.