Twenty-Five Years of Dust

I'm reflecting on the tender mercies of God this morning. I probably should not share this but...in the interest of some degree of transparency, here I go. I have struggled with anxiety most of my life, but in recent years to a degree that, at times, was a bit mind-bending. Fast-forward to this past weekend.

I traveled over four hours from my home in Knoxville, Tennessee to Auburn University in Auburn, Alabama with my husband for a football game. He's a graduate, and we both enjoyed the university atmosphere and the joy of a victorious game. Our seat in the stands afforded a gorgeous view of part of the campus as the sun was setting. All of these experiences and images sent me reeling back to my own big-school experience. I got my master's of journalism at Louisiana State University in 1991. I was filled with career dreams and so happy to be at that beautiful, very interesting school. I finished my internship in Miami, Florida, which was the replacement for a thesis at that time, and went home to Alabama. I had been so excited about graduation. Thing is, someone who was very important to me told me they had no interest in attending it. My master's degree was really the only thing that, to that point in my life, I had ever done that I was proud of. Extremely proud.

When that significant person declined to go, to say I was crushed would just not cover it. I cancelled plans to attend the graduation. The upshot of this story is that I never received my diploma. I called the registrar's office and made sure that I was duly noted as a graduate and I ordered a copy of my transcript in the event an employer ever needed it. I moved on with life. I never asked the school to send my diploma. The human psyche is a curious thing. In analyzing my own and that of others, I am always taken aback by how complex it is. The cross-currents of emotions in one person can lead to actions that are deeply motivated and super-tough to define, except to the One who made us and who can hold, guide and direct us through those crazy channels, if we're open to it. Looking back, I now believe that the actual physical diploma would, at least in my mind at the time, and perhaps in the  many years to follow during which family members would again and again say "Why don't you get your diploma," be a physical reminder of a profound rejection.

I never really pursued that "dream" career. Instead, I opted for raising two sons. Now that they are teens, I am ready to dream a new dream in the freelance and creative writing realms. I decided, on that ride home from Auburn, that I wanted my diploma. In rushed a spate of wholly irrational fears. What if they no longer had it? These thoughts drowned the prospective joy of receiving it. My husband assured me that they would not have disposed of it. It might have been mailed to the wrong address, he added, which gave me no comfort.

Monday morning after the game on Saturday, I planned a call to the LSU registrar.One thought hit me especially hard. Maybe I was more afraid of receiving it than not. Maybe what was once a concrete symbol of rejection would now become a concrete symbol of the hope of a new career, something beautiful in the last quadrant or so of my life? Maybe I was afraid to leap from the diving board of my dreams for fear of missing the water? One thing I have learned in recent years, something to which I hope to cling, is the absolute truth of the saying "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." I made the call. The registrar's office employee asked for my social security number. "Nineteen-ninety-one?" she asked. I replied in the affirmative, my voice tremulous. "If you'll hold on, I'll go look for it. It may take a few minutes," she said. In that span, I felt every emotion ever known to man. "I'm going to make your day," she said as she re-emerged on the line. She was holding my original diploma in her hand. The dreams buried for twenty-five years, dreams of making use of my skills in a professional capacity, came roaring back through that telephone signal. My cell phone became a beacon of hope. My prayer for every day for the rest of my life is that I never let go of my calling to be a writer. Loved ones have urged me to just write. Even when no one reads. Even when no one pays. Just pour my heart onto the page. I'm going to!

Footnote: It arrived today, the very day I posted this entry.

Roses for Regrets

I revisited my old regrets about having a Facebook account today. Where else, I ask you, can one look at the lives of people who knew you when, who started when you did and who have done astoundingly well in areas in which you have failed? Or who have at least made progress in areas in which your own life has been stymied? Nowhere else can one, at a glance, see in glorious, living color, the dreams one had for themselves, dreams that had to die, being enjoyed by others.

It's hard to watch. When life works out so differently than we have planned, it is just plain hard to watch it turn out the way we dreamed for others. It's not that I want them to fail. I don't. It's not that I want them to taste what I've tasted. I do not. Am I jealous? Yes, but more than that.

Jealousy is a word that conjures images of a mansion I wish I could buy or a vacation I wish I could take. What I am feeling is an angst that defies words. I had dear, sacred dreams for myself. Some were secret, deeply held, cherished desires. Others were seemingly simple milestones that, of course, everyone enjoys. Or so I thought. These things have been withheld from me. There are times I want to cry until I die. Just keep crying until I dry up. Other times I swing my legs over the side of my bed and get up and just go on. The latter is the preferred course.

Even though I will hit the half-century mark in a couple of years, my life isn't over. I've found a secret ingredient in the recipe of life: two, actually. One: keep setting goals (aka "dream new dreams"). Two: look for ways to help other people every single day.

The first three paragraphs of this blog post might, at first blush, appear to have been written by a selfish infidel. But they weren't. I'm a child of God, just brutally honest. I've also become, over the last couple of years (and by way of some egregious hardships and disappointments) committed to the body of Christ by way of a local church. This is new. I have spent most of my life running from long-term attachments to people due to, among other sinful bents, an aversion to pain and rejection. I have learned a GLORIOUS truth in the last couple of years. The pain is worth the beauty of interaction. Wow, is it ever.

Then there is the joy of my relationship with Jesus. He is so tender and kind. He is always there for me, injecting meaning in the simplest of places. He will never let me stay in the slough of depression or regret for long. The problem with a Christian spending time with regret is that, first and foremost, it cuts our productivity. To be corny and repetitive, you can't move forward looking back. We're going to be alive for all of eternity. No matter our station in life, we can pray, we can praise and we can do our best.

At the top of this post you'll find a photo of a church near the cabin we rented in Colorado this summer. Notice that it was built on rock. Just like my life. I'm rooted and grounded in Christ. Notice that the church is not resting on social media. The photo depicts a pretty solid foundation. There aren't any grandiose pilings, just good, old, solid rock.

Taking My Medicine

When we mess up in a relationship, especially in one with a great, time-tested friend and feel so awful, it's helpful to remember that, even though God doesn't sin and is perfect, He still understands when we fail. He still considers the fact that we are frail human beings. He knows our whole story and what sets us up to fail, even in an epic capacity, sometimes.

When the other person, the one we've treated wrongly, is getting their fill of anger out on us, sometimes passively, it's helpful to remember that they may just need some time to process their sense of outrage over working hard at the friendship and having that hard work bounced back on them due to our own selfishness or insecurity.

But in that time of taking our medicine, which might actually help us to remember to handle the relationship differently going forward and can actually be good for the health of the relationship long-term (the setting of boundaries by our friend), we can turn to God for comfort and companionship. He will never reject us, no matter how badly we screw up. We routinely turn away from Him, fail to spend time with Him first every morning, reject his good gifts, fail to thank him for them (or even to notice them at times). We often misquote and misrepresent Him. We say we love Him and we pursue every single thing other than him on a daily basis. And yet God is always waiting with open arms. He doesn't require a season of penitence before allowing us back onto His lap. He doesn't need time to "process" or to heal from the woundings of our rejection and misrepresentation. He just takes us back time and time and time again. We would do well to take time to appreciate that!

There is a double-whammy for people like me who tend to err on the side of control and manipulation to get assurances of worth from the people who matter to them. We are like wounded dogs who are limping to the finish line at times. We've been beaten bloody by rejection and disappointment. We are over-filled with inadequacy. The double-whammy is that we injure our relationships with the very manipulation and control that is employed to cover our bleeding hearts with the relationships. We want a tight fit over our wounds. We want our loved ones to control the bleeding that never, ever seems to end. They can't do it. The double-whammy is that when we seek to assuage the loneliness with manipulation, the injured party recoils and rejects us and the pain is horribly compounded. It's just awful. To top it off, we know we did it to ourselves and we wear the self-inflicted loss like a ten-ton boulder on our back. Then we deal with the fact that we hurt someone we dearly love and that cuts like a knife. So much unnecessary pain.

There is really nothing we can do but wait until the self-styled storm passes. It's awful. We find ourselves wanting to guilt the other party into getting to their healing faster. Won't work. Will slow the process way, way, way down. If you find yourself in this scenario, just go to the Lord. He will not let you down. He will give you the strength to persevere and to be happy in the interim. We can be held and loved by God until the other party welcomes us back into the fold. 

Of Cats and Mouse Tails

This was one of those mornings when summer seems to be trying to give way to fall. The air started crisp, then gently began to mellow into what will probably become a pretty warm day. The sun was shining and I had no reason for pessimism. However, an element of life that has been the bane of my existence since I opened my eyes in birth jumped up and slapped me on both sides of the face. Boredom. I didn’t want to do any of the myriad projects I was planning to attempt today. None intrigued me, none motivated me. That’s why, at 8:30 in the morning, after being up for two hours, I went back to sleep.

Sleep CAN be fun. When you are a dreamer like I am. In my dream, my exhaustion creeped in and I was at the desk of a hotel and suddenly “came to.” The clerk was looking at me curiously and I realized I had dozed off in front of him. Then I went out and the scene became a temporary apartment that we were living in while either a house was built or closed on, I can’t remember which. I saw my cat easing behind the sofa in the living room. She emerged with the tail of a mouse wriggling from her mouth. I carefully opened the front door of the apartment and called to her to come. I wanted that dern mouse out of the house.

She did go out and when she did, I noticed a cute little puppy emerging from the front terrace area of the apartment next door. I was going to knock on the door when I saw that there were two or three and a kitten too. “This is exactly what I need,” I thought as I reached for one of the wriggling puppies. (REALLY? I NEED ANOTHER PET/PUPPY? This is my go-to when I am bored with life. I think “This is exactly what the doctor ordered” about a plethora of unnecessary/impractical/outright lunatic things.) I also (in the dream) thought “I haven’t owned a soft-gray-colored kitten in a very long while. I think that will fill the void.” These are not the idle musings of the unconscious. I really do think this way in times of severe intellectual drought.

The sad thing is, I can battle depressing, soul-crushing boredom in the midst of serious challenges. Depends on what the challenge is. The challenge itself and the uphill tasks might be deadly tedious or feel like they can’t be done at all.

Lately I’ve been reminding myself that God is a lot of things, but boring He is not. When I’m feeling unfulfilled, like today, I’m missing something.  There is something I’m called to do that I’m just not doing! It’s time to go deeper in prayer and contemplation. It’s time to really listen. There’s something there that will be tailor-made for my interests and abilities that will be fulfilling on many levels. I was made for action, not sleep in the daytime (unless I had a really poor night’s sleep or am cutting back on caffeine. If that’s the case, you BETTER NOT come knocking).

I’m a writer and thus, by nature, a creative person. So the key for me is greater creative outlets, more interesting writing projects. I’m trying to build a business and so, sometimes looking at online job postings makes me feel like I’m applying to make widgets. I’d rather do something that won’t pay a thing but will be so much fun. I have an overall desire to do both, just like all of the rest of you. Sometimes, especially for someone with a nine-to-five job that they can’t give up, the key to soul-deadening boredom is to find some kind of balance in life. I’ve talked about this before in this blog, but it’s probably hard to hear coming from someone who doesn’t have to work. Someone who regularly blows the day at Cade’s Cove with her dog. I get it, I do. But listen to me. You’ve got to have something to look forward to. You have to. If you have talents or interests you cannot apply at work, you’ll have to find a hobby that allows their expression. You’ll perish if you don’t! Go out after work today (if you have a modicum of energy left) and grab some balance. It will make a difference. I guarantee you. If you start feeling some sort of man-made religious condemnation, go ahead and shrug that off. God isn’t boring and he doesn’t expect you to live a hollow, joy-less, work-around-the-clock life. You can quote me on that.

Plenty of Light

Every now and then, because I talk about Jesus all of the time in this blog, I'll throw out a blanket disclaimer. I'm not qualified in any way, shape or form to preach, teach or talk about the Bible or about God. I struggle with my temper, with profanity, with a myriad other sins and I do hate them. I do not FEEL worthy to speak the name of Jesus. I do not. However, I'm a writer. He made me one. There's nothing else on this earth that I want to talk about more, so I will continue to talk about Him. I feel like Peter did when Jesus asked the disciples if they were going to desert him like so many others had. "Where are we gonna go?" is essentially Peter's response. Nowhere to go. Just Jesus.

Jesus is all I have. He's also, quite honestly, all I really want. Sometimes it takes a big, honkin', juicy crisis to turn me back from wasting my time on other ventures, other flirtations. That's alright. I'll take any road back home. Because, after all. Jesus is my home. He's my life, my light and, the Bible tells me that when I live in Christ, there's no darkness that can penetrate my life.("When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'" - John 8:12, New International Version, Holy Bible.)

I have been through some severe trials these last three years. At the height of them, I would avoid going out at night. The darkness wrapped around me like the cords of death mentioned in the Psalms. It seeped into my soul and underscored the terror of what was happening to people I love. It amplified my deep, mind-bending sorrow. It was really bad, in other words!

Thank GOODNESS God promises me that wherever I am, it's light, spiritually speaking! Oh, friends, you have no idea what an amazing relief that is for someone who spent several months dreading nightfall. I could not even stand the sound of soft music playing. The tenderness was too much for my torn-to-bits heart.

I'm working so hard to stop working so hard. I'm letting God do the heavy lifting in my heart. He so badly wants to. I had to get to a place where I know that when I get up in the morning, I'm going to give my life all that I have and plan for God to fill in every single gap. It's harder to do than it sounds. Every time I make a human mistake, I have to fight the urge to fear that the house is going to land on me like that witch in the Wizard of Oz. Weren't just her feet sticking out?

When I start to ramble like the rambler I am, I know it's time to close. I hope you're encouraged. If you're in Christ, you've got more than a flashlight for your path. You have the light of the world, Jesus himself.

Aching for Light

Sometimes it's dark outside for a very long time. Our hearts go through a season of pain that stabs and sticks and rolls us into the pavement until we're sure that we're a fossil mark there. Then someone asks us what's for dinner, or if we've got that report they asked us for last month, or if we know where their socks are. We have to unpeel ourselves from the pavement and go on until the roller is out again a few minutes later, smushing us flat again. It's like the Alaskan winter solstice. We've all heard about it. Some places in that state are mostly dark for a couple of months straight. Those of us who live in "normal" climes shudder a little bit when we imagine ourselves going to the grocery, running out to the mailbox, having our "morning" coffee, all in the dark. All in the dark. We don't want to move there, and we can blink away the thought, then head out for a walk in the sunshine.

The problem with long seasons of heartache is that the sun is very, very tough to find. It shines, to be sure, but over someone else's house, it seems. Its strong, sure and steady wash of light over their family or circumstances makes the darkness of our own seem steeper, crueler, and far lonelier. There is a reason that God is associated with light. It's because light means an awful lot to all of us. It warms us, comforts us, and illuminates obstacles that would otherwise trip us and/or possibly hurt us. It shows bright, rich colors to their full advantage. When people smile, we often say it "lights up their face."

I took my nephews and niece down to a little creek at the back of my neighborhood. As they stood looking into the trickling water, I took several photos of the three of them. As we walked away, I looked at the very last photo I had taken of the three of them. A strong individual ray of light centered on each child. I was taken aback. I had taken multiple photos of the very same scene, but had chosen to stop and walk away when that very special picture had been taken, even though I could not tell, because I was using my phone, that the rays of light were so perfectly positioned in it.

Of COURSE I knew that God was speaking through the photo. I was talking about that fact on the walk home. My four-year-old nephew Alex agreed with me. He said "It's like an angel is shining on us or Jesus because he's stronger." I'm reminded that God did not create me for continual defeat and degradation. I can rest assured that help is on the way. That success is coming. That joy is waiting for me. Light is shining around me, even if I am unable to appreciate it.

The Bible says "God is light; in Him there is no darkness at all." (1 John 1:5, The Holy Bible, New International Version)

Flying Blind

"With a mastery of the skies that is almost unparalleled among birds, swifts spend virtually all their waking hours on the wing. Some are even thought to sleep while in flight." (National Geographic Complete Birds of the World, Tim Harris, Editor.)

This sentence arrested my attention this morning. Some are even thought to sleep while in flight. Suddenly an image of myself, worrying and racing into the future, even in my dreams, rose up before me. I never rest. I am always flying onward in my mind and heart into the unknown, arranging things in my favor, blocking horrific events, crafting ways to dodge bullets and ferret out landmines. I am always attempting control over my life and the lives of people I love and ever falling flat because I am, after all, not God.

As I looked at this amazing book of birds, greedily grabbed from the shelf at my local library in my best attempt to recreate a magical part of my childhood (actually picking out books by browsing the stacks, then going home and holding them in my hands as I read and turn actual paper pages), I found myself skimming from the back to the front, because I am left-handed. I have to stop myself at times, when the subject matter would be garbled, and force myself to scan a book from front to back like a normal person would. This bird book was full of glorious photos, so the order didn't really matter, but I stopped myself anyway (in case one of the neighbors was watching me over the fence). What happens when we skim life from the back to the front, imagining and preparing ourselves for future scenarios? Life becomes garbled.

God never meant for us to live that way. He said today has enough trouble of its own. Might be a good idea to break off a piece of the behemoth that is life one day at a time. Might even find yourself enjoying some of those chunks. Celebrating them. Maximizing them. You'll have more energy because you will have one "to-do" list for that day to mind, one set of 24 hours to prayerfully navigate and trust God in. It'll be enough. Trust me.

Fragrant Flame

So I just finished reading not a fan. by Kyle Idleman. Gist is that there is a difference between someone who likes Jesus and what He stands for and someone who is "all-in." As in, A L L   I N.
I squirmed a lot over the last few days as I read a chapter or two each morning. (It's red-hot important to note that I started this short book at least a year ago.) One of the things that I'd like to change about myself is that I would like to consistently start my day with prayer and reading the Bible. I came down this morning to my study and found, to my horror, that I had left a scented candle burning all night long. Once I realized that the wicks were not smoking and absolutely nothing was amiss (except that the room smelled amazing), I wondered something. Was God welcoming me into this space for some time with Him?

The Bible says God is a consuming fire (Hebrews 12:29). He is our light in dark places (Psalm 18:28). His spirit working through us makes us a disseminate his goodness like a perfume (2 Corinthians 2:15).

If you think that God is not ALL ABOUT symbolism, you haven't read the Old Testament. You haven't read the new, for that matter. Check out the book of Revelation. Slow down and check out your own life, line by line. Today I challenge you to prayerfully check out your everyday life. God is in the details and he is, quite often, communicating with you symbolically. Please share with me some symbols God has used to reinforce his goodness and his presence in your life! I'll be encouraged by them.

Back to my morning welcome. It reminded me that I'm not following a rigid set of rules, but a God who is warm, alive, and beckoning. He loves me and wants to spend time with me. What better way to validate someone? What better way to love them?

Humility Before Honor

It's good to be humble, Keeps you from taking credit for other people's work. It also keeps you from taking credit for your own talents and accomplishments, because if you have a brain in your head you know that God gave you the ability, the time and the will to accomplish what you do get done. Can't take credit for his work.

Being humble means you don't have to wait for that big fall that the Bible promises to all who "exalt" themselves. Being humble opens doors that other people cannot close. Doors opened by God's own hand. Being humble means that you are genuinely surprised when honor comes your way. It makes life more fun. More meaningful. More fulfilling. It also makes our relationships ten times less complicated than when we are playing the "significance" game.

When we're truly humble, we don't expect a reward for merely doing what we are supposed to be doing. I am usually simply hoping that I'm not cutting off my nose to spite my face. That there is a tiny bit of incremental forward motion to my life. Case in point: this morning I watered my knockout roses two minutes each. I set my phone's stopwatch. Gary said two minutes. I'm doing two minutes. I was watering away, gently nourishing one of the beautiful new bushes when I realized that the way that I was standing was causing the heavy hose to mangle one of the other little bushes! Cutting off nose to spite face. We all do it some.

The aging process itself is like one giant, fail-proof humbling machine. It's the most highly effective instrument I know of to keep me on my knees. Well, that and the love of a parent for a child. I've got both going on,and in spades. There I am, motoring down the highway, a cool song on the radio. I'm singing and believing, just for the moment, that I've got it going on. Then I catch a glimpse of an old woman in the rearview mirror. It's me. I roll my windows up and sail silently home. Maybe say a prayer or two for my husband to be able to stomach what I look like now. Humbling. Keeps us close to the Lord and fully in touch with what is most important in life. Our relationship with Him is all that matters in the big picture. I've actually thanked Him for the aging process. I need a constant reminder that everything the rest of the world trusts in is continually fading away. It's going fast, too.

When I'm walking in some momentary light of obedience and feel myself getting ever closer to Jesus, the light of His love is so beautiful, His peace so overwhelming and His joy so matchless, I remember why He goes to great lengths to remind me, through loving discipline at times, that His way is the very best way. I'm thankful.

Puppy Dogs and Regrets

I have glutted Facebook with photos of my new puppy. Thrown a few videos in, too. He is reaping the rewards of two particular phenomena: 1) my husband found him via friends at work less than a week after we had our nearly thirteen-year-old dog Charlie put to sleep (we loved Charlie so much and needed his tender, loving furry companionship to such an extent that all that we flowed in his direction is now cascading over Baxter who has, regrettably, answered to Charlie more than once daily) and 2) I am attempting to avoid every regret I had at Charlie's passing.

I did not walk Charlie enough. Baxter (who is also a long-haired dachshund) has such short legs that neighborhood walks are a few weeks away, but, heaven help us, the leash with matching collar have been purchased and the resolve is firmly in place. When Baxter breathes his last, he will have been walked countless miles. I put off grooming Charlie to the extent that he hated it and had to be carted off to the groomer for mat removal behind the ears and on the legs. Sometimes I had them give him a short haircut so that we just wouldn't have to fool with it. (This is a regret that I probably don't feel too much pain for, as Charlie HATED baths and brushings with a religious fervor.) Baxter will learn to enjoy the brush because it will be a constant. I feel that I took my "Pudding" for granted. He was always there. I was home a lot during his lifetime and he was always at my feet. I loved having him there and was comforted by him but, since he did not like laps, I didn't pet him as much as he would have enjoyed. I took it for granted that his loyal little spirit would never fly away. It did. Baxter is lifted into my lap all throughout the day. I am conscious of the fact that life is busy and complicated and, while my dog will always be in the house like Charlie was, plan is to make the time to stop and love on him every single day.

We took Charlie on every car trip that we could. This is because we loved him, he traveled well, and I was just more at peace when I had him with me and therefore knew that he was okay! Plan is to continue this inclusion with Baxter. Awesome memories ahead. Someone send me links to doggie motorcycle compartments, please. When I was making my Charlie photo album this past week, I had 59 photos. Now, I know that there are many more, but I am as organized as a hamster on crack. I'll round them up. However, I want to take more of Baxter. I want every moment memorialized. When he passes away, I want a tidy pile of years well-lived. I want him to know how much he means to me.

Yes, I do realize I'm talking about dogs here. All four of us loved Charlie. We all four grieved his last month of life. I made the remark to my youngest son that I felt I had taken Charlie for granted. "We all do that all of the time," he said quickly. I assumed he meant that we take everything for granted. All of life's pleasure and joys and the people (and animals) we love. It feels like they will never leave. They most assuredly can and often do.

I am one of those complicated and laden-down  people who live in a constant cycle of regret management. When I was holding Charlie at the vet's office on the day we had him put down, I was finger combing his fur. I had shampooed him the night before and he looked raggedy because I hadn't gotten him rinsed as thoroughly as I would normally  have. He was just so uncomfortable and it was awkward to bathe him. I wanted his last few moments of life to be presentable, but they weren't. Not totally. I said to Gary "Well, I'm regret managing again. I guess I should give it up because if I had no regrets that would make me (like) Jesus. He is the only perfect one." It's true.

We can, however, live a little more consciously thankful and loving. Yes I want to savor Baxter in ways that I overlooked Charlie in the chaos of child-rearing. I want to because dogs are gift from God, given to us to cherish and enjoy. But I also want to appreciate the Lord and all that he brings to my life every single day. I want to treat my husband better. I want to reach out to others and give up the notion that there is always tomorrow. There might not be. I thought Charlie, because we gave him the best preventive vet care we could, would be eighteen before he passed. I even wondered, because he seemed so strong for most of his life, if he would be one of those Guiness Book dogs that live to be over twenty. He wasn't. I was given about 6 weeks notice of his passing. It was terrible.

There's a Christian song that says "I'm gonna live like there's no tomorrow/Love, like I'm on borrowed time." Because we are. We all are.

Humility: The Crown of Life

Life is interesting, isn't it? As soon as you think you've got one thing nailed down, the peg on the opposite corner of your tent goes flying! Keeps us humble, which is a pretty good thing, in my estimation. It makes me want to belly-laugh when I think of how my fading earthly frame gets all puffed up with pride at the LEAST accomplishment, of how I look down on others when they struggle with one of the few things I'm on top of (at the moment). God must shake his head a lot when I am doing these things!

There are lots of moral issues in the news these days. I have Bible-based opinions on many of them. However, I do not have PUBLIC opinions on several of them. I just don't. That's not fear, that's me being a private person with, well, PRIVACY RIGHTS. My take on morality is the following: if someone is in error, and they are a sincere follower of Jesus Christ and they either A) ask my opinion or B) are somehow under my spiritual authority (think my children only or maybe ants on the sidewalk at this point), I will tell them, but in a loving and very respectful manner, making it clear to them that I love them exactly as they are and that I respect their feelings. The Bible tells me that without love, all of my spiritual gifts are a gonging in the wind. No fruit! Furthermore, I am not going to convince anyone of anything. That's the Holy Spirit's job.

I also believe that some issues should not be discussed with people who do not know me and know my heart. I sincerely desire (though frequently fail) to love other people wholly and fully and to treat them with kindness and respect. All of the yammering in this blog post is leading to what I truly believe is the one thing that all Christians should be about: leading others to a saving, redeeming, life-transforming, healing relationship with Jesus Christ. Once they have taken that step, we should lead those who the Holy Spirit guides to us, to discipleship. This means that we help them get into the Word of God, explain things that they ask us about, pray with them, encourage them, and do whatever else the Lord leads us to help them grow. All of the moral issues that cause such an horrendous uproar in this society that is spiraling downward at warp speed will be addressed in each person who has given themselves to Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit will address those things as each believer seeks Him earnestly.  He will use us in their lives, but we must tread with caution, checking His spirit for confirmation along the way. I believe we get the cart before the horse every day. We expect unbelievers to embrace God's truth. Without the Holy Spirit, they just cannot grasp it, let alone feel the conviction of it. It's Greek to them! We MUST love them unconditionally. 

There are times when you will see me step up to the plate and throw myself wholeheartedly into a moral cause. Any issue involving the protection of the defenseless (the unborn, the elderly, children, widows) and any issue involving the government's usurpation of basic freedoms would be a cause worth shouting about, in my estimation! When the government suppresses a people's right to free speech, control over their own finances, the right to bear arms and a whole host of freedoms that are currently under attack, I may just speak out on social media. I don't mind offending in those cases. I hope, however, that my statements are not attack-oriented or hateful, because in that case, I've lost sight of my purpose on Earth, which is to bring glory to my savior Jesus Christ.

A Spoonful of Nothing...

Sometimes I dig down really deep....and come up empty. Like tonight when someone hurt my feelings and I went on a profanity-laced tirade. Yep. There you have it. I curse. I'm not proud of it but there it is. The unvarnished truth. I could try to polish my life for you and package it like a debutante's Facebook profile, but you'd all see through that anyway. At least those of you who know me well would.

Today I dug deep and came up with a kitchen spoonful of dry dirt. My mother-in-law used to give kids old spoons to play in the dirt with. Or maybe it was MY grandma. Someone did. I had one of those today. That was my implement for excellence, or at least it sure seemed that way to me today. I was standing in front of a lava-caked mountain and I had a nice little metal spoon that someone used to dip mashed potatoes with. Sure, I started my blog with a miscarriage that shattered my heart five years ago. But the last three years of my life have been, without question, the absolute hardest, most painful and gut-wrenching of the entire 47.5 to date. I felt a bone-crushing heartache that left me longing for heaven. Won't give details. No need.

Anyway, sometimes years like these last 900, ummm three, can separate the men from the boys in terms of who really cares about you. I can tell you I unequivocally know that God does. He never, ever ,ever left me, even though I was so terrified that, at one point a couple of years ago, I stopped eating and dropped 30 pounds.

On a day like today...I take stock. I start to reevaluate how I spend my time and what really matters to me. My shoulders sag a little bit when I think of who I invest in and who needs me more. I wonder if I really SHOULD pour myself out the way that I do. Maybe I should hold a little bit of me back a little more often, just to build a tiny bit of protection against hurt. I don't want to stop risking pain by blocking out relationships.

I'm feeling depleted. I know it's probably not a good idea nor very edifying for my fellow Christians for me to do cuss confessionals on the regular...you need to see me growing and moving beyond my quick temper. I hope like the dickens I will. However, I'm not sure being inauthentic helps anyone either. I throw the doors of my heart open and I want all to come into my life. I enjoy people. However, some people are drains. They take and they never, ever give. You know all you could possibly hope to know about them in the first five days of friendship and they could know you for ten years and never really know much about you.  Because they are not listening. They are too busy telling you all about themselves. It's interesting and very, very boring all at the same time.

I think what I really need is time away with Jesus. I feel a little disconnected from Him, and He's all I really have! I need him every second of every day but I am always pushing Him away with my attitude and awful tongue. I am always letting Him down. I'm always putting dumb junk like hobbies and movies and books ahead of Him.  I need Him, and He, inexplicably, wants me. That last part is the greatest mystery of my life. I'll never unravel it.

No-Fail Life!

Whenever I experiment with the overuse of caffeine, I get the same education I got the previous time I conducted such an experiment. At some point these experiences have lost their experimental quality and become predictable disasters. Hmmm. "You know what the definition of insanity is," my husband said last night when I mentioned that I had knocked back two cups of coffee in the afternoon (after my three-cup limit in the morning). "What time did you do that," he asked. "Oh, it was well after three," I said. "You've messed up," was his professional assessment. I'm glad there was no charge for that.

I was awake until two in the morning. I found, to my surprise, that at least one of my kids was up, too. I never saw them. Just heard all sorts of rumblings overhead. I fell asleep until my husband's alarm went off. I was awake while he got dressed, then when he left after 7 a.m., I tried like the dickens to go back to sleep. At some point I must have because I had a crazy dream. I was trying to save people from a very organized, highly intelligent madman. The madman found me. Somehow he divined that I had recently had open-heart surgery. He hadn't shot me yet when I woke up.

I could spend some time trying to find the hidden meaning in my dream, but I'd have to remember it a tad better to launch that initiative. I think it was the product of feeling like, if I'll just try harder, I can save my kids from everything, even though they are basically grown. The madman was just the devil. He doesn't have a loaded gun that can shoot any bullets that will pierce the vest of my faith. He just likes to make me think he can. When I haven't slept, his odds of having me listen to him rise a bit.

The point of this rambling caffeine confessional is that we all, from time-to-time, shoot ourselves in the foot. In my case, I awoke from a short nap yesterday feeling just a little bit down. I'm launching a business and homeschooling a teenager. And I'm nearly forty-eight years old. I'm a dreamer! But we dreamers have to do laundry, too. I wanted the sweet taste of my flavored coffee, the wonderful aroma and, yes, the jolt of caffeine to get me through the rest of the day. Lesson....learned? I can't say that. I'll try to remember it. There will still be days when I'll party all day with McCafe K-cups. I'll still have caffeine confessionals here.

When we DO shoot ourselves in the foot, we don't have to fall entirely on our faces. Unless, of course, it's to pray! Overuse of caffeine is not the only one thing I will be praying about today. One of many. I'm so thankful that each time I go to my Father in prayer, I'm given a blank page, a do-over. He completely washes me clean of my sins and totally forgives me. Then He dusts me off and sets me back on my feet. I would not be surprised if, though I will have slow feet today, He actually makes something beautiful of my day, through the haze of my exhaustion! That's what grace looks like. I'm looking forward to the rest of my life. It starts today. It starts NOW! Anything that I have done, any chance I have squandered is totally unimportant in the light of his grace and peace. He gives me joy as I obey him IN THE NOW! Surrender your entire life to Christ, lock, stock and barrel. See what happens. You have nothing to lose and a world of peace and joy to gain. When I become overwhelmed with the odds against me as a writer, I can take a moment to stop and consider that I am obeying God. I am doing what I feel HE is leading me to do. It cannot fail. I can enjoy it! I don't have to be intimidated by the task or the potential for disaster. There is no disaster in following God. If I hear from him and obey him, he will provide what I need to get everything done. He will show up. If my motive is to obey and glorify him, my tasks are NO-FAIL propositions. When anxiety creeps in, I can rest assured, I've decided to pursue some selfish motive. In the end, my relationship with God is what matters, and it cannot be taken from me in this life nor in the one to come. Feast your heart on this scripture: "...neither height nor depth, nor ANYTHING ELSE IN ALL CREATION, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:39, New International Version, emphasis mine).

ENJOY YOUR DAY!

God Enjoys....Me?

I'm going to write a blog post inspired by someone I have never met, and will probably never become acquainted with. Strange? Maybe.

I like HGTV. Was watching "Fixer Upper" this evening. The home at the center of the story had been renovated and Joanna Gaines was inside, making the final decorating touches. She does an astounding job of making a house an elegant, yet warm and inviting HOME. She is the queen of design, in my lay opinion. The shot panned out to show Joanna through one of the home's windows as she did something like, oh I don't remember EXACTLY, maybe fluffed a pillow or straightened a frame. It occurs to me that she is in her "sweet spot"...that place where you find yourself when you are doing what you love, being constantly affirmed for it, feeling like it improves someone else's life, and that God is smiling on you.  I was thinking that God was probably enjoying watching her do what he created her to do so well. I think He was smiling on her as she placed that final candlestick on the mantle or folded that throw across the back of the sofa. He may have even whispered an idea in her ear as she prayed a silent prayer for help with one of the details. Either just before or during the reveal (showing what the house looks like after the renovation and re-decorating), the camera caught close-ups of the darling and very appropriate accessories Joanna had selected and carefully placed in just the right places throughout the home. What a joy to be where you should be, doing what you should be doing, at just the right time in your life.

It's never too late to find your "sweet spot." God will show you. Just ask Him. He's got a plan for your life, and you were custom-designed to fit into that plan. You were actually meant to REIGN over it! It's your party! I am so excited when I think that the closer I get to Jesus, the better I know Him, the better I'll understand why I am who I am, why I do what I do, why I love what I love. I have a question for all of you who are parents. Did it bring joy to your heart when you watched your child lose themselves in a unique sort of play? I still feel thrilled when I hear my nineteen-year-old play his guitar, the notes landing on my head in my study below his bedroom. Imagine our Father, who is also our creator, finding joy when we enjoy who He made us to be!

The next time someone tells you your dream is impossible, impractical or just plain silly, do me a favor. Don't argue with them. Walk into your prayer closet and ask the Lord what He thinks about it. The answer might just surprise you. If He is in it, it CANNOT FAIL. There is no way for it to!

Let the Day Flow! (And actually enjoy it.)

Am I the only self-employed creative type who feels the day is like a charging team of horses that, while it may begin the day tightly harnessed and pointed down a productive path, somewhere along the path breaks apart, chargers coursing in ten directions?

I've asked myself about possible antidotes. One suggestion that I made to myself was to make a daily schedule and STICK TO IT. Then the thought of doing the same things the same way every single day settled over me like a woolen blanket in  the heat of a Tennessee July. Suffocating. It also, if you know me, seemed like a fantastical Disney movie. Ain't gonna happen.

The next idea to amble along was the prospect of daily and weekly goals. How I get there is up to me! This, this I like. I am still making the steady progress my heart desires, but I get to choose what the day will look like, how it will morph and flow into something awesome. This I can do. Enter my over-achieving, over-ambitious, perfectionist-leaning tendencies. I have never made a set of goals that was not impossible. I am interested in everything. If I look at all of these interests on paper, no one human being could achieve them in one lifetime. So I don't look. I just stab here and stab there, never leaving any of them fully behind. Eventually, however, I begin to feel horrible about the fact that excellence has left the building.

What is one creative, slightly loopy, nearly always enthused writer to do? What she doesn't want to do. Set priorities. Leave some interests behind (for now). Be content with some mediocrity (in acceptable areas). After all, I'm still captain of my ship. I can still take a "mental health day" and go to the mountains. (Even if I have to take my laptop with me.) It's all good!

I suppose life is meant to be lived around the beautiful individuality of our personalities. They're God-given, so they are GOOD! That doesn't mean we aren't to work hard, stand behind our word and be (heaven forbid) responsible. It means that my work style and yours, though they may be at odds, are not standing next to each other as "right" and "wrong." (Okay, it's wrong for me to leave dirty dishes out overnight in the heart of ant season.)

Right-angle folks need to keep this top of mind when dealing with me. I need to keep this top of mind when planning a fun activity with them that includes a tight agenda, optimizing parking, hitting the right restaurant for calorie counts and the like. Oh heck, who am I kidding, I'm not going to a conference with one of THOSE people. Lunch, maybe.

Let's remember that we are all beautiful in our diversity, especially when we are shepherding kids on the brink of adulthood. Let's love them on to their potential. Not OUR potential. That ship has already left the dock.

Sometimes It Takes a Pack of Dachshunds....

So getting a brand-new computer put a ruffle in my internet-use-slow-down initiative. No matter. It's a gorgeous spring day and I'm back on the wagon. I'm on here now, but for useful reasons. Doing something that brings me closer to my goal to become a full-time freelancer. I have so many things to write about, I hardly know where to begin. When I was a kid, I loved nothing more than a brand-new tablet to scribble on. I can't explain that, except that it spoke of possibilities. I don't remember doing anything really interesting or important with my tablets. I just liked them. Oh, I guess I probably drew in them, wrote a few silly things, MAYBE....but what if the blankness (word?) of them was what drew me? The possibility of them. Same with a new computer. Looking at this page makes me happy. There's so much space below these letters.

What would happen if we got up every single day (okay, except Saturday, because Saturday mornings are amazing for laziness) and looked at the day ahead of us as a gorgeously (word?) blank canvas, full of possibilities? Well, I know that I'm supposed to glorify God with all that I have and am. What if I saw each day as a tablet to write something amazing on? Here's another angle: what if I saw each day as a well of possibilities for God to reveal Himself to me, both who He is as a person and who he is in relation to me and my life story?

My elderly dachshund might be sick. I've been worried about him. Started thinking I might not get another dog when he passes. Yesterday I walked past a house I'd never been past before. At least five dachshunds were in a frenzy at the fence line as I went past. Of course I stopped, exclaiming aloud to my walking partner! There was a blonde, long-haired one, at least two chocolate and tans, a dapple, and one that was very gray with age. I was beyond tickled. Thought it might have been a postcard from heaven, letting me know that there's just no call in me not having a dachshund. I'mma gonna need one. It was like the Lord was saying "Life's hard. Keep a dachshund."

So today, as I strain and struggle to make something dynamic and useful of my day, working overtime not to let it slip out of my hands like the helium balloon my time seems to be, I'll remember those darling dogs. Life is not a pack of doldrum tasks. If spring doesn't remind me of that, I guess nothing ever will.

Where's the Mute Button?

I printed my entire blog to date the other day. I could not help but notice, as my printer spit out years worth of thoughts, dreams, observations and the occasional photo, that the concept of an internet fast came up more than once. Seems I get an overwhelming urge to do that from time to time and, once again, I'm feeling an urge to bathe myself in the peace of the Holy Spirit, apart from the dirt of the world.

The noise of social media in my head hits the roar of the never-ending stories of horror found on international, national and local news sites for a crescendo of sadness that I have to step away from. The emptiness and terror of it all folds my soul up into a malformed snibbet of something unrecognizable and it simply cannot breathe without hurting. I usually stop watching television too during these fasts. I dream of someday having the discipline to make them permanent, but I know I'm not there yet. I think sometimes I become a bit afraid to be alone with my thoughts. Like maybe if I get really quiet I'll find an empty spot that cannot be filled, kind of like when you look down and notice that your sweater has been attacked by moths when you thought it was safe in your drawer. Here's what God's Word, the Bible, says about that: "And the disciples were continually filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit." (Acts 13:52, Holy Bible, New American Standard version.) I'm a follower of Christ, I can choose to open the cap of my soul and fold in His influences, versus those of the world.

When I go on these fasts, I still use the internet. Duh. It's 2016. But instead of trolling it aimlessly, killing hours that could be spent outside in the sunshine or with a good book, I use it for work, to look up information that I NEED to get ahead on a hobby project, or for directions to a place I've never experienced. I check in on social media for just a few minutes daily, so that I won't have a nagging thought that someone needs me and I'm not there to answer or to pray for them.

So, though I dearly love to let each and every one of you know every single time I get up to answer the door, you're going to hear less of that for the next couple of weeks. It will be less about me and more about my heavenly Father, who I am beginning to miss in the nitty gritty of everyday life. I need Him so desperately. Every second of every minute of every hour. I am tossing pearls out the back door while welcoming plastic at the front. Styrofoam, even. Enough!!! Excited to chronicle here all of the things He will teach me in coming days.