We run...we maintain an unbelievable pace.
We never stop...we pause for a quick moment--
Say a quick prayer...
Do our "Christian" duty...
And we're off again.
We have so much to DO
"For the kingdom."
It is a never-ending
Chaos of
Motion...
We
Never
Stop.
I
Never
Stop.
Is there any greater honor
Than to be called to
His table?
It's a banquet,
Not a Drive-Thru.
How can we sit and
Savor
His blessings
When He's still a
Stranger
And we have
Things to do
Places to go
People to see?
Is there any greater honor
Than to be asked to
Sit at His feet,
To hide
Under the shadow of
His wing...
To be at the place that's the
Closest
To
His
Heart?
Would we know?
Have we taken the time?
Martha gets a lot done...
But Mary--
Mary knows
The Heart of Jesus.
Mary
Finds
Rest...
"In peace, I will both lie down and sleep; for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety."--Psalms 4:8
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
"God, What Do You Mean, I Have A Career?!?!?"--Fairytales and Faith
Rewind 20 years:
A young girl sits in her tiny bedroom, surrounded by childhood leftovers--Cabbage Patch dolls, Barbies, teddy bears, and a random assortment of other "stufties"--and thinks about life. She can't get rid of any of the toys, because they, along with an admirable book collection that inspires her imaginary world, are her friends. No, she doesn't talk to them--at least, not anymore--but she does sleep with as many as her twin bed will hold. She's an avid reader, and the stories she tells herself as she falls asleep at night would hopefully, one day, grace the pages of a bestseller.
She has dreams.
She dreams of going to college...of meeting the right guy, someone tall and handsome, someone who makes her laugh...she dreams of getting married, of having a family, and of raising them differently than she perceives that she is being raised. She dreams of telling stories, of teaching, of writing books and of touring the country, telling people about the Jesus she knows...
She dreams, more than anything, about feeling loved (which, at this age, is something the enemy has stolen away from her)...
She dreams of her children....she dreams of things that can't be written, of hopes fulfilled...
She dreams of feeling like she belongs.
"In 10 years," she says, "I'll be 23. I'll be out of college, I'll be married, I'll start a family, and everything will be perfect."
Everything would go in order.
This chaos, this instability that she wrestles with--it will be over. Things will go exactly as planned, with the white picket fence, and a permanent smile. Everything will be just the way she wants it--because after all, God wants His people to be happy, right?
You know, when you place your life in God's hands, and you ask Him for His will, He has a way of burning the pages of your fairytale.
I started this blog with the flashback, because it's an image I find myself thinking about quite frequently. I remember when all I wanted to be was a wife and a mother. It was something that was dropped into my heart from an indeterminate age, and it's something I have never (and will never) let go of. I could never get rid of my dolls, as a child, because I was their caretaker (to this day, I have 2 teddybears that will probably have to be buried with me, 'cause they're staying put!). There has always been that internal need to take care of something. I really did think that somehow, I'd have it all--I could be a stay-at-home mom, and have a writing/speaking career (at one point, I wanted to be a singer along with that, but the reality of being average set in, so music became a thing for worship alone--not a bad thing).
Someone said to me in college (and I quote), "You know, if you were to ever go into business, you'd be incredibly good at it--you'd be one amazing corporate bitch." That's what he said--and it was a pastor that said it. I laughed, at the time, and said, "Yeah, right--that world is not for me." It was meant to be a compliment to my tenacity, administrative abilities, and overall anal-retentiveness. He didn't know it, but those words hit me like an arrow to the heart.
They lodged in.
I find myself, in the present time, in the corporate world. 10 years, in the medical field (in an administrative capacity), and I have found, even in small business, that I can be a total corporate B (yep, that's a capital "B"). I actually like the thrill of the hunt, so to speak, in making an insurance company do what they're supposed to do. I like the detail of untangling accreditation nightmares, or cleaning up billing disasters. I've recently switched fields, and taken a position at a university. It's my first time working for a big company, and I'm realizing that once I get settled in, I have the potential to go somewhere--to "be somebody," if I go down that path. I'm definitely continuing my education (the dream of being a writer/speaker is VERY much alive), but apart from that, I'm seeing some potential.
But then something happens...
Those words come back to haunt me.
"Corporate bitch."
Am I?
Really?
Is that who I'm meant to be?
I know I'm designed to work. Even when I'm "off," I still find myself completely unable to be a slacker. I actually mentally schedule in time to slough off. The brief times of unemployment that I've had, I probably worked the hardest at home, for the most part, because I can't stay still (yep, I have a total Mary/Martha problem, FOR SURE). So, I will always work, in some capacity...but corporately?
I don't know.
Hardly any of my friends are so-called "career" women. They may have been, at one point, but most of them are stay-at-home moms. I'm not hugely fond of the term "housewife;" in fact, I find it derogatory. "Susie Homemaker" makes my skin crawl. SAH moms are, to me, incredibly gifted, because I don't think I have the patience to stay at home chasing after a two-year-old. I think I'd go nuts. Since I'm not around kids very often for long periods of time, it takes me a long time to get acclimated to having them around. I find myself short on patience and struggling to breathe. I'm just being truthful. I wonder if that will change, when it's my own children? If some magic thing will go off, and I'll never want to leave the room they're in?
Part of me says yes...and part of me hopes that I'll be able to compartmentalize and leave so I can continue to provide for my family.
I wasn't married with children by 23. I was married at 27, and by 29, I'd lost my only child. We have never had a picket fence, and through a strange series of events, the market wiped out the lucrative position my husband held for over 10 years. The things I always thought would happen? They didn't happen.
You know what DID happen?
God never left.
If I could go back to that 13 year-old little girl, I'd have a few things to say to her...
1. Your parents are doing the best they know how to do. Their lives weren't easy, growing up, and you don't know about the anguish they're facing. Your mother loves you (but she's hormonally imbalanced and totally needs a hysterectomy--Don't laugh, it was true! She finally had one when I was in college, and turned into the coolest Mom EVER!). Be patient with them--far more patient than a teenager should have to be, but be patient. They really do love you.
2. Keep praying for your future husband. He's coming. It's not where, when, or who you think, but he's The One. Give him a chance (I did. He's awesome).
3. The love that you have in your heart, that's dying for a chance to get out--don't waste it on fairytales. There is a realness that's worth holding out for.
4. You can't always get what you want, and you won't. Asking God for His will is the most painful thing you will ever do in your life, because it means giving up control. It means giving up the white picket fence, the writing and the speaking, and all of the hopes and the dreams that go with it. It means laying all of that down for one thing, and one thing only: Jesus. Your body and your mind have wishes and dreams, and it's painful to let them go....But...Your spirit has desires engrained into the heart, and those are the things that the Father has put there--these are the things that will cost you everything, because those are the things He made you for. They will break you, strip you, and drop you to your knees, which is right where He wants you. And when you get there, and He pulls you into that calling that your heart aches for, everything you've been through will be totally worth it.
My 33 year-old self looks back at the blissfully delusional 13 year-old self, and sees a lot of longing. I ask myself if somewhere along the line, I blew it? Did I miss God, and the rest of my life is judgement? Was I supposed to "live the dream," and be that stay-at-home mom with a side-job of writing/speaking, and did I knock myself out of commission with bad choices? Or was this His "Plan A" all along? Have I merely been on a side-track, and I'm getting it all back together now, 10 years later? Or has it taken all of this--all of the craziness, all of the heartache, all of the rip-it-all-down-and-start-over, to get me back where He wants me? Is the corporate life really where I'm supposed to stay? (Stay tuned, kids, for part 2!!!!)
There are the things I always wanted, and there is the reality of my life. There is a certain envy of my friends, and there is a definite noticing that I am not the same ("one of these chicks is not like the other!"). There is a longing for that life....there is an honest look at where David and I are spiritually, physically, and financially, and the realization that we are not those people, right now...and there is hope that maybe someday, we will be.
This is not how I thought my life would be...but this is where He has taken me. So, for the 13 year-old me, who longed for marriage and motherhood, above all things, I would say this (as I declare every single day): "Your will be done, on earth, as it is in Heaven."
A young girl sits in her tiny bedroom, surrounded by childhood leftovers--Cabbage Patch dolls, Barbies, teddy bears, and a random assortment of other "stufties"--and thinks about life. She can't get rid of any of the toys, because they, along with an admirable book collection that inspires her imaginary world, are her friends. No, she doesn't talk to them--at least, not anymore--but she does sleep with as many as her twin bed will hold. She's an avid reader, and the stories she tells herself as she falls asleep at night would hopefully, one day, grace the pages of a bestseller.
She has dreams.
She dreams of going to college...of meeting the right guy, someone tall and handsome, someone who makes her laugh...she dreams of getting married, of having a family, and of raising them differently than she perceives that she is being raised. She dreams of telling stories, of teaching, of writing books and of touring the country, telling people about the Jesus she knows...
She dreams, more than anything, about feeling loved (which, at this age, is something the enemy has stolen away from her)...
She dreams of her children....she dreams of things that can't be written, of hopes fulfilled...
She dreams of feeling like she belongs.
"In 10 years," she says, "I'll be 23. I'll be out of college, I'll be married, I'll start a family, and everything will be perfect."
Everything would go in order.
This chaos, this instability that she wrestles with--it will be over. Things will go exactly as planned, with the white picket fence, and a permanent smile. Everything will be just the way she wants it--because after all, God wants His people to be happy, right?
You know, when you place your life in God's hands, and you ask Him for His will, He has a way of burning the pages of your fairytale.
I started this blog with the flashback, because it's an image I find myself thinking about quite frequently. I remember when all I wanted to be was a wife and a mother. It was something that was dropped into my heart from an indeterminate age, and it's something I have never (and will never) let go of. I could never get rid of my dolls, as a child, because I was their caretaker (to this day, I have 2 teddybears that will probably have to be buried with me, 'cause they're staying put!). There has always been that internal need to take care of something. I really did think that somehow, I'd have it all--I could be a stay-at-home mom, and have a writing/speaking career (at one point, I wanted to be a singer along with that, but the reality of being average set in, so music became a thing for worship alone--not a bad thing).
Someone said to me in college (and I quote), "You know, if you were to ever go into business, you'd be incredibly good at it--you'd be one amazing corporate bitch." That's what he said--and it was a pastor that said it. I laughed, at the time, and said, "Yeah, right--that world is not for me." It was meant to be a compliment to my tenacity, administrative abilities, and overall anal-retentiveness. He didn't know it, but those words hit me like an arrow to the heart.
They lodged in.
I find myself, in the present time, in the corporate world. 10 years, in the medical field (in an administrative capacity), and I have found, even in small business, that I can be a total corporate B (yep, that's a capital "B"). I actually like the thrill of the hunt, so to speak, in making an insurance company do what they're supposed to do. I like the detail of untangling accreditation nightmares, or cleaning up billing disasters. I've recently switched fields, and taken a position at a university. It's my first time working for a big company, and I'm realizing that once I get settled in, I have the potential to go somewhere--to "be somebody," if I go down that path. I'm definitely continuing my education (the dream of being a writer/speaker is VERY much alive), but apart from that, I'm seeing some potential.
But then something happens...
Those words come back to haunt me.
"Corporate bitch."
Am I?
Really?
Is that who I'm meant to be?
I know I'm designed to work. Even when I'm "off," I still find myself completely unable to be a slacker. I actually mentally schedule in time to slough off. The brief times of unemployment that I've had, I probably worked the hardest at home, for the most part, because I can't stay still (yep, I have a total Mary/Martha problem, FOR SURE). So, I will always work, in some capacity...but corporately?
I don't know.
Hardly any of my friends are so-called "career" women. They may have been, at one point, but most of them are stay-at-home moms. I'm not hugely fond of the term "housewife;" in fact, I find it derogatory. "Susie Homemaker" makes my skin crawl. SAH moms are, to me, incredibly gifted, because I don't think I have the patience to stay at home chasing after a two-year-old. I think I'd go nuts. Since I'm not around kids very often for long periods of time, it takes me a long time to get acclimated to having them around. I find myself short on patience and struggling to breathe. I'm just being truthful. I wonder if that will change, when it's my own children? If some magic thing will go off, and I'll never want to leave the room they're in?
Part of me says yes...and part of me hopes that I'll be able to compartmentalize and leave so I can continue to provide for my family.
I wasn't married with children by 23. I was married at 27, and by 29, I'd lost my only child. We have never had a picket fence, and through a strange series of events, the market wiped out the lucrative position my husband held for over 10 years. The things I always thought would happen? They didn't happen.
You know what DID happen?
God never left.
If I could go back to that 13 year-old little girl, I'd have a few things to say to her...
1. Your parents are doing the best they know how to do. Their lives weren't easy, growing up, and you don't know about the anguish they're facing. Your mother loves you (but she's hormonally imbalanced and totally needs a hysterectomy--Don't laugh, it was true! She finally had one when I was in college, and turned into the coolest Mom EVER!). Be patient with them--far more patient than a teenager should have to be, but be patient. They really do love you.
2. Keep praying for your future husband. He's coming. It's not where, when, or who you think, but he's The One. Give him a chance (I did. He's awesome).
3. The love that you have in your heart, that's dying for a chance to get out--don't waste it on fairytales. There is a realness that's worth holding out for.
4. You can't always get what you want, and you won't. Asking God for His will is the most painful thing you will ever do in your life, because it means giving up control. It means giving up the white picket fence, the writing and the speaking, and all of the hopes and the dreams that go with it. It means laying all of that down for one thing, and one thing only: Jesus. Your body and your mind have wishes and dreams, and it's painful to let them go....But...Your spirit has desires engrained into the heart, and those are the things that the Father has put there--these are the things that will cost you everything, because those are the things He made you for. They will break you, strip you, and drop you to your knees, which is right where He wants you. And when you get there, and He pulls you into that calling that your heart aches for, everything you've been through will be totally worth it.
My 33 year-old self looks back at the blissfully delusional 13 year-old self, and sees a lot of longing. I ask myself if somewhere along the line, I blew it? Did I miss God, and the rest of my life is judgement? Was I supposed to "live the dream," and be that stay-at-home mom with a side-job of writing/speaking, and did I knock myself out of commission with bad choices? Or was this His "Plan A" all along? Have I merely been on a side-track, and I'm getting it all back together now, 10 years later? Or has it taken all of this--all of the craziness, all of the heartache, all of the rip-it-all-down-and-start-over, to get me back where He wants me? Is the corporate life really where I'm supposed to stay? (Stay tuned, kids, for part 2!!!!)
There are the things I always wanted, and there is the reality of my life. There is a certain envy of my friends, and there is a definite noticing that I am not the same ("one of these chicks is not like the other!"). There is a longing for that life....there is an honest look at where David and I are spiritually, physically, and financially, and the realization that we are not those people, right now...and there is hope that maybe someday, we will be.
This is not how I thought my life would be...but this is where He has taken me. So, for the 13 year-old me, who longed for marriage and motherhood, above all things, I would say this (as I declare every single day): "Your will be done, on earth, as it is in Heaven."
Thursday, June 23, 2011
All My Single Ladies: A Call to Married Women
This blog has been sitting on my heart for a week.
I think I'm ready to write.
I called this blog "All My Single Ladies: A Call to Married Women" for a reason that is weighing on me...it's one of those frustrating things that you know something has to be done about, but don't have the time to do it yourself...So I'm putting it out here, in cyberspace, and I'm hoping it gets seen.
Single ladies, you are noticed.
I've been asked quite a few times, as I try to become more sociable (it's so AWKWARD!), how my husband and I met. The question is always answered with a smile--someday, I'll tell it in a blog, 'cause it's funny. Let's just say that it involved a brother-like friend, a baby in a kitchen sink, a stupid e-mail forward, and a killer pair of high heels.
There is NO REASON on earth that there should have ever been a second date.
God had other plans...and yep, it was a total cliche: Right place, right time, God-ordained. This man, that I had surrounded in prayer since I was 14 years old (thanks, Donna Shelton, for that teaching, way back when), was real. Yes, Virginia, he DOES exist.
Single ladies, HE DOES EXIST.
I've had a few conversations lately with my single girlfriends. Their ages vary...their careers are vastly different. These women have 2 things in common: They love the Lord. They hate being single.
My heart breaks for them.
There's something painful, about wanting something SO BAD, that you have no control over. It's strange, how I identify with that deep, heart-wrenching longing, in a different way...I can't create life, any more than my single gals can create a husband. It's totally in God's hands, and boy-oh-boy, wouldn't we put Him on fast-forward if we could?
Sigh.
His will is worth the wait.
Single ladies, HE DOES EXIST. That guy is out there. Single guys, if you're reading this (I don't think any guys read this blog, including my hubby, and that's okay), where you at? When are you going to man-up and notice the amazing array of Godly women that surround you like the most fragrant of perfumes?
Our church is full of beautiful, amazing, focused, Jesus-loving single women. I see them every Sunday, and I have to wonder what in tarnation is wrong with the boys? WAKE UP! Look!!! They're gorgeous, inside and out, and you don't find that anymore!!!
Single ladies, HE DOES EXIST.
Please, don't lose heart. I know that "hope deferred makes the heart sick;" I know it better than anyone. Don't lose hope. I don't have an easy answer for you, other than to tell you to hang on--don't let being single make you bitter. Don't let it corrode your heart. Hang on.
I could give you Scripture references; I could tell you pithy sayings, make a few jokes, and point you in the direction of an appropriate devotional. It would do neither of us any good. Your heart hurts, plain and simple. You have a heart's desire, for a mate, and it's not happening. It sucks.
So, here's the call to married women:
Married ladies, these are your sisters. We have our families...I have a job, a husband, bills to pay, and a household to run. It's easy for me to get caught up in this world, and to forget the loneliness I felt before I met David. Our single sisters need our prayer(and I don't mean all of them--some of them are happy being single, and that's great. This blog is meant to focus on the ones who AREN'T happy being single. I don't mean to generalize anyone, so please don't take this the wrong way. If you're happy being single, good on 'ya). I'm not organizing a prayer group for this. I'm asking the married ladies of the church to commit to praying individually (and if you're already in a prayer group, add this to the list)and as a family, for the single girls and guys in our church. This isn't to jump-start a singles ministry or to add another church function to your prayer list. This is about being responsible to take care of people in our church who are struggling with where they are, as a single person. I'm focusing on the women, because I can relate to that heart's desire. Single guys, again--not that I think you read this--need prayer too. Wives, encourage your husbands to pray for the single guys. And while I'm on a bandwagon, encourage your husbands and these single guys to hang out. The singles need mentors, and the husbands need fellowship. Guys need Godly examples.
Married women, let's step up. I don't care how long you've been married--you know that once that ring goes on, there's a change. You feel like a puzzle piece that's been properly locked into another, and you feel that in your spirit. David is the other half of me--he's everything I prayed for, come hell or high water. I am sad, for the ladies that want that, and don't have it. I'd like to be a part of praying that in.
Our single ladies need encouragement, so as not to give up...they need direction, in knowing the difference between Godly expectation and vanities (ask, if you want me to clarify that). They need to know that "settling," when you're talking about a covenant, is a ticket to disaster--it's worth the wait. They also need to learn that they are amazing women, and that being single is NOT a form of rejection--there's an assault on their self-esteem that's taking place, and it's wrong.
Married women, can we do that? Can we agree to pray for our sisters? We love them, don't we? Let's lift them up, and encourage their faith and their values. If you have anything to add to this, leave me a comment on the Facebook page. This has been burning in my heart for a week, so your thoughts/prayers/support for our single community is appreciated.
I think I'm ready to write.
I called this blog "All My Single Ladies: A Call to Married Women" for a reason that is weighing on me...it's one of those frustrating things that you know something has to be done about, but don't have the time to do it yourself...So I'm putting it out here, in cyberspace, and I'm hoping it gets seen.
Single ladies, you are noticed.
I've been asked quite a few times, as I try to become more sociable (it's so AWKWARD!), how my husband and I met. The question is always answered with a smile--someday, I'll tell it in a blog, 'cause it's funny. Let's just say that it involved a brother-like friend, a baby in a kitchen sink, a stupid e-mail forward, and a killer pair of high heels.
There is NO REASON on earth that there should have ever been a second date.
God had other plans...and yep, it was a total cliche: Right place, right time, God-ordained. This man, that I had surrounded in prayer since I was 14 years old (thanks, Donna Shelton, for that teaching, way back when), was real. Yes, Virginia, he DOES exist.
Single ladies, HE DOES EXIST.
I've had a few conversations lately with my single girlfriends. Their ages vary...their careers are vastly different. These women have 2 things in common: They love the Lord. They hate being single.
My heart breaks for them.
There's something painful, about wanting something SO BAD, that you have no control over. It's strange, how I identify with that deep, heart-wrenching longing, in a different way...I can't create life, any more than my single gals can create a husband. It's totally in God's hands, and boy-oh-boy, wouldn't we put Him on fast-forward if we could?
Sigh.
His will is worth the wait.
Single ladies, HE DOES EXIST. That guy is out there. Single guys, if you're reading this (I don't think any guys read this blog, including my hubby, and that's okay), where you at? When are you going to man-up and notice the amazing array of Godly women that surround you like the most fragrant of perfumes?
Our church is full of beautiful, amazing, focused, Jesus-loving single women. I see them every Sunday, and I have to wonder what in tarnation is wrong with the boys? WAKE UP! Look!!! They're gorgeous, inside and out, and you don't find that anymore!!!
Single ladies, HE DOES EXIST.
Please, don't lose heart. I know that "hope deferred makes the heart sick;" I know it better than anyone. Don't lose hope. I don't have an easy answer for you, other than to tell you to hang on--don't let being single make you bitter. Don't let it corrode your heart. Hang on.
I could give you Scripture references; I could tell you pithy sayings, make a few jokes, and point you in the direction of an appropriate devotional. It would do neither of us any good. Your heart hurts, plain and simple. You have a heart's desire, for a mate, and it's not happening. It sucks.
So, here's the call to married women:
Married ladies, these are your sisters. We have our families...I have a job, a husband, bills to pay, and a household to run. It's easy for me to get caught up in this world, and to forget the loneliness I felt before I met David. Our single sisters need our prayer(and I don't mean all of them--some of them are happy being single, and that's great. This blog is meant to focus on the ones who AREN'T happy being single. I don't mean to generalize anyone, so please don't take this the wrong way. If you're happy being single, good on 'ya). I'm not organizing a prayer group for this. I'm asking the married ladies of the church to commit to praying individually (and if you're already in a prayer group, add this to the list)and as a family, for the single girls and guys in our church. This isn't to jump-start a singles ministry or to add another church function to your prayer list. This is about being responsible to take care of people in our church who are struggling with where they are, as a single person. I'm focusing on the women, because I can relate to that heart's desire. Single guys, again--not that I think you read this--need prayer too. Wives, encourage your husbands to pray for the single guys. And while I'm on a bandwagon, encourage your husbands and these single guys to hang out. The singles need mentors, and the husbands need fellowship. Guys need Godly examples.
Married women, let's step up. I don't care how long you've been married--you know that once that ring goes on, there's a change. You feel like a puzzle piece that's been properly locked into another, and you feel that in your spirit. David is the other half of me--he's everything I prayed for, come hell or high water. I am sad, for the ladies that want that, and don't have it. I'd like to be a part of praying that in.
Our single ladies need encouragement, so as not to give up...they need direction, in knowing the difference between Godly expectation and vanities (ask, if you want me to clarify that). They need to know that "settling," when you're talking about a covenant, is a ticket to disaster--it's worth the wait. They also need to learn that they are amazing women, and that being single is NOT a form of rejection--there's an assault on their self-esteem that's taking place, and it's wrong.
Married women, can we do that? Can we agree to pray for our sisters? We love them, don't we? Let's lift them up, and encourage their faith and their values. If you have anything to add to this, leave me a comment on the Facebook page. This has been burning in my heart for a week, so your thoughts/prayers/support for our single community is appreciated.
Friday, May 20, 2011
No reason--just rhymes (and a little writer's block)
If I hadn't flunked music theory,
This would go much faster.
I can't quote the Circle of 5ths,
But I have friends who have it
Tattooed on their
Elbows (thanks, C.J.!)...
So,
Here goes.
It's midnight, when He comes to me
Spinning words around my head
And I just can't sleep
So here I am in front of
The keys I can play
And the music is in what I can say...
Of course, as soon as I sit down,
It's a total let-down.
My mind goes totally blank
To be frank
That key marked "delete"
Just might be the death of me
Because my screensaver
Just kicked on...
I have nothing to say.
If I go back in that bedroom,
As soon as my head hits the pillow...
Words
Will
Flow...
It's super-easy for me
To get caught up in the He-
said-she-said
Why-her-not-me
Triviality that
Trips me...
Falling flat on my
Face...
Grace
Catches up with me
When I'm trying to sleep
I think He's caught on
That it's the only time of day
When I'm quiet...
Silent...
Shh...
Then He finds me,
Holds me,
Hides me,
Intertwines His hands in my brain
And starts the game
of association in my
Head.
He says,
I say,
We say,
He wins
And I begin to laugh at the
Funny things
He links together
In ways only we
Communicate.
He speaks our own language
In my twilight.
Some might think
I'm crazy
But He knows
It's true...
He is, too.
Love knocks on the door of
My brain
At insane times of the night
And I'm not
Complaining because
It's our game
And it's how
I
Fall
Asleep...
It's how
I
Stay
Alive...
He plays
Hide-and-seek
with
His children
And He always finds
Us
First...
I don't mind
that I'm awake...
At midnight.
So
Is
He.
This would go much faster.
I can't quote the Circle of 5ths,
But I have friends who have it
Tattooed on their
Elbows (thanks, C.J.!)...
So,
Here goes.
It's midnight, when He comes to me
Spinning words around my head
And I just can't sleep
So here I am in front of
The keys I can play
And the music is in what I can say...
Of course, as soon as I sit down,
It's a total let-down.
My mind goes totally blank
To be frank
That key marked "delete"
Just might be the death of me
Because my screensaver
Just kicked on...
I have nothing to say.
If I go back in that bedroom,
As soon as my head hits the pillow...
Words
Will
Flow...
It's super-easy for me
To get caught up in the He-
said-she-said
Why-her-not-me
Triviality that
Trips me...
Falling flat on my
Face...
Grace
Catches up with me
When I'm trying to sleep
I think He's caught on
That it's the only time of day
When I'm quiet...
Silent...
Shh...
Then He finds me,
Holds me,
Hides me,
Intertwines His hands in my brain
And starts the game
of association in my
Head.
He says,
I say,
We say,
He wins
And I begin to laugh at the
Funny things
He links together
In ways only we
Communicate.
He speaks our own language
In my twilight.
Some might think
I'm crazy
But He knows
It's true...
He is, too.
Love knocks on the door of
My brain
At insane times of the night
And I'm not
Complaining because
It's our game
And it's how
I
Fall
Asleep...
It's how
I
Stay
Alive...
He plays
Hide-and-seek
with
His children
And He always finds
Us
First...
I don't mind
that I'm awake...
At midnight.
So
Is
He.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary....
How DOES your garden grow???
Ah, the garden. What a place...this mysterious place,where something starts from a tiny little speck, and, through hard work, great fear and wondering, sweat, showers, and dirt, eventually becomes something useful...something wonderful...something we hoped for, but didn't really think we could accomplish without mom (or Paige Clausen) holding our hands...
April, 2011
May 8, 2010
It's amazing, the changes that can happen in just 8 weeks.
This little flower garden (loaded with perennials), my little vegetable pots (spinach, lettuce, cilantro, rosemary, garlic chives, tomatoes), and my hanging pots (begonias, marigolds, and impatiens) are a trial effort for me. If this goes well, David and I will attempt to put in raised garden beds in our backyard next year. I realize that this may seem trite, country-fied, and silly to some people, but to understand the feeling of pride I have in my garden, you have to understand why I put the thing in, in the first place.
I have never successfully "raised" anything (you can see where this is going). Not one plant has ever blossomed under my care. I have always said that "everything I touch dies," until that phrase began to cut off my oxygen supply. I started to think it was true, for more than just plants.
It began to suffocate me--I couldn't keep anything alive...at all. The mere mention of a garden would hurt my heart, because it seemed indicative of so much more. Last year, though, the Holy Spirit began to bring the concept of a garden to my thoughts until I could finally ignore it no more.
"A garden? Me??!? I don't have a green thumb! I can't grow anything, I mean, have you SEEN my pathetic excuse for a yard/flower garden?!?!? David had put in some daisies and some green thingy a few years ago, and the indestructible holly bushes will never die, but everything's unkempt! I mean, a CAT took up residence in the bushes! The "flower garden" is a litterbox!! I can't do that!! I don't have time for that crap!"
He was persistent...a certain Misty Edwards song kept ringing through my head, and I couldn't shake it. "Put in a garden." I heard. "Grow closer to me--find out what I'm trying to teach you. It's your parable...put in the garden."
So, last year, I took the time to clean up what we already had. I pruned the Indestructible Holly Bushes (which I'd really like to get rid of), tried to untangle the daisies, attempted to save the green thingys, and put in 2 little coral bells. Other than that, the mere fact that I added dirt and mulch made a huge cosmetic difference in the front of the house.
I was shocked at what a change it brought, cosmetically.
I was shocked at the amount of weeds that can come up in 10 square feet (what IS that?!?).
"It's You and me alone, God...." That's the line from the song.
Last year, as I tried to keep the weeds under control, and intermittently pruned the IHB, I began to see how it took regular maintenance. I wasn't very good at it...and it was reflective of my spiritual life. It was intermittent, patchy...kinda full of weeds. But it was a start.
This year, I decided to take it to the next level.
The house we live in, we'd wanted to move out of after 5 years. When we bought it, we knew the neighborhood was sketchy, but we figured we'd give it a bit, and then "move up." But the housing market bombed...so we know that barring a miracle (which I'm optimistic for!), we're here for a while. I want to make my house look pretty. I want it to look like the picture I've always had in my head. It may be small, but I want it to be welcoming. I put in some annuals this week (which I wasn't going to do, but felt encouraged to do so after talking to Hannah Preston about what I really wanted to see), and my little vegetable pots are growing quite well, for the most part (I think the rosemary is out of commission. Gonna have to try that one again). I am, at this point, successfully raising SOMETHING. It's a start, and it is so much fun, to see the results come to pass.
I'm encouraged. Things are blossoming. I don't "kill everything" I touch, and that thought can disappear. And the more I prepare my place, my home, to be a place of welcome, the more I reflect on the patience and love God has for me. He's taking me down new roads that I'm scared to go down, but I know He's with me.
It's a huge time of transition for so many people I know. Some have told me it's the planetary alignment...some say it's the Chinese Year of the Rabbit, which is good for change. Others say it's the earth preparing for 2012. I know that it's God. New roads, new changes, cause us to seek Him even closer than our stagnant paths. They make us rely on Him so much more, because they make us aware of how blind we really are.
I quit my job on April 26th.
It's the craziest thing I've done (since I got married, God reminded me). I left a job that I really liked (for the most part), a field I've worked in for 10 years, in one office or another...to take a position at a university doing a job that I have little experience in. I have a LOT of learning to do. I've never worked in a corporate setting, and frankly, I am intimidated. I have faith...and so far, I've managed to block out the "what-ifs." Ben Scofield challenged us a year ago to stop living in our comfortable Plan B, and to seek God to get us back on track to Plan A. I took those words seriously, and this is where they are leading me. I am EXCITED, scared, petrified, and totally, incredibly, freaked out.
I asked Him to direct me, to get me out of Plan B...I want my calling. I want to go where He wants me to go, not where I think I have to be. This is His answer, and it is awesome.
I am blind, and I am having to hang on for dear life to the One Who is directing me down this crazy path.
I am in this place...I am starting out as a speck, with nothing, and I am relying on Him to eventually become something useful...something wonderful...something I hoped I could be, but knew I'd never accomplish without Him holding my hands...
I am trusting that with what I have invested in my garden thus far, that it will be fruitful.
I am trusting that with what He has invested in my life thus far, that I will be fruitful in this endeavor.
"I don't want to waste my time living on the outside
I'm going to live from the inside out
I don't want to waste my life living on the outside
I'm going to live from the inside out
I'm no longer my own; I'm Your garden"--Misty Edwards
May 11, 2011
Ah, the garden. What a place...this mysterious place,where something starts from a tiny little speck, and, through hard work, great fear and wondering, sweat, showers, and dirt, eventually becomes something useful...something wonderful...something we hoped for, but didn't really think we could accomplish without mom (or Paige Clausen) holding our hands...
April, 2011
May 8, 2010
It's amazing, the changes that can happen in just 8 weeks.
This little flower garden (loaded with perennials), my little vegetable pots (spinach, lettuce, cilantro, rosemary, garlic chives, tomatoes), and my hanging pots (begonias, marigolds, and impatiens) are a trial effort for me. If this goes well, David and I will attempt to put in raised garden beds in our backyard next year. I realize that this may seem trite, country-fied, and silly to some people, but to understand the feeling of pride I have in my garden, you have to understand why I put the thing in, in the first place.
I have never successfully "raised" anything (you can see where this is going). Not one plant has ever blossomed under my care. I have always said that "everything I touch dies," until that phrase began to cut off my oxygen supply. I started to think it was true, for more than just plants.
It began to suffocate me--I couldn't keep anything alive...at all. The mere mention of a garden would hurt my heart, because it seemed indicative of so much more. Last year, though, the Holy Spirit began to bring the concept of a garden to my thoughts until I could finally ignore it no more.
"A garden? Me??!? I don't have a green thumb! I can't grow anything, I mean, have you SEEN my pathetic excuse for a yard/flower garden?!?!? David had put in some daisies and some green thingy a few years ago, and the indestructible holly bushes will never die, but everything's unkempt! I mean, a CAT took up residence in the bushes! The "flower garden" is a litterbox!! I can't do that!! I don't have time for that crap!"
He was persistent...a certain Misty Edwards song kept ringing through my head, and I couldn't shake it. "Put in a garden." I heard. "Grow closer to me--find out what I'm trying to teach you. It's your parable...put in the garden."
So, last year, I took the time to clean up what we already had. I pruned the Indestructible Holly Bushes (which I'd really like to get rid of), tried to untangle the daisies, attempted to save the green thingys, and put in 2 little coral bells. Other than that, the mere fact that I added dirt and mulch made a huge cosmetic difference in the front of the house.
I was shocked at what a change it brought, cosmetically.
I was shocked at the amount of weeds that can come up in 10 square feet (what IS that?!?).
"It's You and me alone, God...." That's the line from the song.
Last year, as I tried to keep the weeds under control, and intermittently pruned the IHB, I began to see how it took regular maintenance. I wasn't very good at it...and it was reflective of my spiritual life. It was intermittent, patchy...kinda full of weeds. But it was a start.
This year, I decided to take it to the next level.
The house we live in, we'd wanted to move out of after 5 years. When we bought it, we knew the neighborhood was sketchy, but we figured we'd give it a bit, and then "move up." But the housing market bombed...so we know that barring a miracle (which I'm optimistic for!), we're here for a while. I want to make my house look pretty. I want it to look like the picture I've always had in my head. It may be small, but I want it to be welcoming. I put in some annuals this week (which I wasn't going to do, but felt encouraged to do so after talking to Hannah Preston about what I really wanted to see), and my little vegetable pots are growing quite well, for the most part (I think the rosemary is out of commission. Gonna have to try that one again). I am, at this point, successfully raising SOMETHING. It's a start, and it is so much fun, to see the results come to pass.
I'm encouraged. Things are blossoming. I don't "kill everything" I touch, and that thought can disappear. And the more I prepare my place, my home, to be a place of welcome, the more I reflect on the patience and love God has for me. He's taking me down new roads that I'm scared to go down, but I know He's with me.
It's a huge time of transition for so many people I know. Some have told me it's the planetary alignment...some say it's the Chinese Year of the Rabbit, which is good for change. Others say it's the earth preparing for 2012. I know that it's God. New roads, new changes, cause us to seek Him even closer than our stagnant paths. They make us rely on Him so much more, because they make us aware of how blind we really are.
I quit my job on April 26th.
It's the craziest thing I've done (since I got married, God reminded me). I left a job that I really liked (for the most part), a field I've worked in for 10 years, in one office or another...to take a position at a university doing a job that I have little experience in. I have a LOT of learning to do. I've never worked in a corporate setting, and frankly, I am intimidated. I have faith...and so far, I've managed to block out the "what-ifs." Ben Scofield challenged us a year ago to stop living in our comfortable Plan B, and to seek God to get us back on track to Plan A. I took those words seriously, and this is where they are leading me. I am EXCITED, scared, petrified, and totally, incredibly, freaked out.
I asked Him to direct me, to get me out of Plan B...I want my calling. I want to go where He wants me to go, not where I think I have to be. This is His answer, and it is awesome.
I am blind, and I am having to hang on for dear life to the One Who is directing me down this crazy path.
I am in this place...I am starting out as a speck, with nothing, and I am relying on Him to eventually become something useful...something wonderful...something I hoped I could be, but knew I'd never accomplish without Him holding my hands...
I am trusting that with what I have invested in my garden thus far, that it will be fruitful.
I am trusting that with what He has invested in my life thus far, that I will be fruitful in this endeavor.
"I don't want to waste my time living on the outside
I'm going to live from the inside out
I don't want to waste my life living on the outside
I'm going to live from the inside out
I'm no longer my own; I'm Your garden"--Misty Edwards
May 11, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Generation...
A certain sadness takes over...
Some kind of melancholy.
I dig deeper,
Try to find the branches
But maybe I should stop
Because there is disease
At the root...
My life--
I've spent it feeling
Like the odd woman out
Looking different
Thinking different
Acting different
When I look in the mirror
I see features that
Do not fit in
The family picture
(Although as I
Grow up
I am turning into
My mother)...
That nose--
Those lips
Ridiculous,
These hips
When I see the skinny legs
And little bodies
Of people who
Share the same bloodline
As me...
So I search
(for more than just a
Physical resemblance)....
Where do I come from?
The history is
Sad...
So sad...
Broken hearts litter the
Garden
Where my
"Family Tree"
took root.
Biology is
Over-rated
Yet we look to it
To feel like we
Truly belong.
Can I be free of the
Generational
Plagues
That chased down
My father?
Can I break the chains
That bound the
lives of my
Grandparents,
Coating them
with the slick deception
Of Inconvenience?
I spent a long time
Wishing I could
Fill in the
Missing Piece...
The more I learn,
The less I want to know...
The more I'd like to
Take an axe
To the family tree.
How did we make it out alive?
God bless the mother
Who wants more for her children...
Who packs the bags and
Takes the car...
Who leaves...
God bless the mother
Who throws the bastard out.
God bless the father
Who realized
That the instant-family
That came with the ring
Was never really "instant"
At all...
It brewed in love.
God bless the father
That stayed.
Out of what was intended
For destruction
Comes life,
Hope,
And a promise for tomorrow.
I am not
A product of my
Family Tree.
I am a
Product of
Adoption by
Christ.
Some kind of melancholy.
I dig deeper,
Try to find the branches
But maybe I should stop
Because there is disease
At the root...
My life--
I've spent it feeling
Like the odd woman out
Looking different
Thinking different
Acting different
When I look in the mirror
I see features that
Do not fit in
The family picture
(Although as I
Grow up
I am turning into
My mother)...
That nose--
Those lips
Ridiculous,
These hips
When I see the skinny legs
And little bodies
Of people who
Share the same bloodline
As me...
So I search
(for more than just a
Physical resemblance)....
Where do I come from?
The history is
Sad...
So sad...
Broken hearts litter the
Garden
Where my
"Family Tree"
took root.
Biology is
Over-rated
Yet we look to it
To feel like we
Truly belong.
Can I be free of the
Generational
Plagues
That chased down
My father?
Can I break the chains
That bound the
lives of my
Grandparents,
Coating them
with the slick deception
Of Inconvenience?
I spent a long time
Wishing I could
Fill in the
Missing Piece...
The more I learn,
The less I want to know...
The more I'd like to
Take an axe
To the family tree.
How did we make it out alive?
God bless the mother
Who wants more for her children...
Who packs the bags and
Takes the car...
Who leaves...
God bless the mother
Who throws the bastard out.
God bless the father
Who realized
That the instant-family
That came with the ring
Was never really "instant"
At all...
It brewed in love.
God bless the father
That stayed.
Out of what was intended
For destruction
Comes life,
Hope,
And a promise for tomorrow.
I am not
A product of my
Family Tree.
I am a
Product of
Adoption by
Christ.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Forgiveness...It's Not Just A Trend; It's a Way of Life (That I Suck At).
My drive-time is very often my alone time with God...that, and that awesome twilight that I have as I kind of pray myself to sleep. Of course, that drive-time is often interrupted with what I've come to call "Vehicular Tourette's" (translation: My prayers are frequently sidelined by my tendency to verbally overreact to approaching vehicles, whether or not I'm in the driver's seat), but I always try to bring it all back around. I thought this was totally abnormal, until I realized that since the God I know sees me in all of my various stages of maturity, He can handle me when I'm almost rear-ended by that moron in the SUV who just HAD to fix her makeup when my light turned red (God's heard my diatribe on women who drive vehicles larger than they can handle...and so have most of my friends, readers, and random patients who had the misfortune to ask). As I recently said (to my chagrin) to a church full of people, "God likes me, even when I've gone nuclear on my curling iron). He's God.
I'm not.
The graciousness of this realization is continuously amazing.
As I'm driving to work this morning, it dawned on me that my "spring break" has thrown me off of my pattern, so I started to pray. I found myself at a loss for words, and since a recent sermon @SG reminded me of a past place in my prayer life, I took it back to the basics of Matthew 6--The Lord's Prayer.
There was a time in my life where I could not pray, at all. I had nothing in my heart to say to God--I couldn't bring myself to trust Him with my prayers, since they'd all seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Because I knew I HAD to pray, every single day, all I said was the "Our Father." There were days when it was the cry of my heart; there were days when it was mere recitation. There were many (MANY) days where I said it with the sole resolution that I'd say it 'til I meant it, even if it was the last prayer I prayed. It's short, sweet, and to the point, and really, it can be prayed in 30 seconds or less.
Imagine how many times that can be repeated in a 30 minute drive to work.
And back.
For 2 years.
The more I pray that prayer, though, the more I fall in love with it's complexities...with it's simplicities...with it's poetry and focus. Every time I pray The Lord's Prayer, it steels my resolve.
I could take it line by line, and break it all down, but that blog would take a while to write. This morning, I was struck by the phrase "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us."
I stopped praying.
It has recently come to my attention that I have a real issue with forgiveness--one that goes past being raised by an Italian father and his love of the revenge of Chuck Norris. I most definitely have some anger issues, and I have a true desire to see certain people get what I just KNOW is coming to them. Once someone is on my bad side, fahgeddaboutit. They're done. Somehow, the innocence of childhood (where my mom used to say I was the most forgiving person in the world) has been mucked over by a real bitch with a nasty right hook. I can be so stinking vicious!!! There are certain family members, coworkers, people who hated my dress, that will never know how truly angry I am with them; I lie to myself, and say that just because I've never really let them have it, that I've forgiven them, and it's all handled. Then, I lie awake at night, and think of all of the "zingers" I could have zapped them with, to make my point. Underneath it all, of course, is true hurt that I have to give to Jesus and let go. I'd rather stay mad and bitter, than forgive them, break off the muck, and get the hurt healed.
Is this the true nature of the human condition, in regards to forgiveness? Or am I alone in this?
As I was praying this phrase, "forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us," I stopped, and said, "Dear God, I hope not, because I suck at forgiveness!!!! If You forgive me, according to how I've forgiven other people, then I'm so totally screwed!!!"
I hold on to past hurts and issues so tightly, even though I know there's freedom at the cross. To forgive someone, to truly let it go--I'm not sure I even begin to know how to do that. Do you just stop talking about it (even to yourself), or is that bottling it up? Do you write one of those disposable letters that you burn and never send (that would be SO unfulfilling to me)? We lay things on an altar to give to Him, yet our hands are curled so closely around them that our fingers get burnt in the offering. Or, we let our "living sacrifices" crawl off of said altar and onto our backs to weigh us down another day.
There is freedom in forgiveness. The last thing I want to hear is someone I know tell someone else that "Cassidy has a problem with forgiveness," even though it was said in jest. That truly cut me to the quick, and made me wonder how much of that statement is true? More than I'd care to admit...but if you told me about it, I'd just stay mad at you. :)
I have been forgiven for so much...God is so much bigger than me, so much bigger than my sin, than my offense; who am I, to withhold forgiveness from anyone?
Forgiveness...
Just one more reason why I'm so thankful that God is God, and that Jesus came...and tomorrow is one more day toward learning to be like Him.
I'm not.
The graciousness of this realization is continuously amazing.
As I'm driving to work this morning, it dawned on me that my "spring break" has thrown me off of my pattern, so I started to pray. I found myself at a loss for words, and since a recent sermon @SG reminded me of a past place in my prayer life, I took it back to the basics of Matthew 6--The Lord's Prayer.
There was a time in my life where I could not pray, at all. I had nothing in my heart to say to God--I couldn't bring myself to trust Him with my prayers, since they'd all seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Because I knew I HAD to pray, every single day, all I said was the "Our Father." There were days when it was the cry of my heart; there were days when it was mere recitation. There were many (MANY) days where I said it with the sole resolution that I'd say it 'til I meant it, even if it was the last prayer I prayed. It's short, sweet, and to the point, and really, it can be prayed in 30 seconds or less.
Imagine how many times that can be repeated in a 30 minute drive to work.
And back.
For 2 years.
The more I pray that prayer, though, the more I fall in love with it's complexities...with it's simplicities...with it's poetry and focus. Every time I pray The Lord's Prayer, it steels my resolve.
I could take it line by line, and break it all down, but that blog would take a while to write. This morning, I was struck by the phrase "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us."
I stopped praying.
It has recently come to my attention that I have a real issue with forgiveness--one that goes past being raised by an Italian father and his love of the revenge of Chuck Norris. I most definitely have some anger issues, and I have a true desire to see certain people get what I just KNOW is coming to them. Once someone is on my bad side, fahgeddaboutit. They're done. Somehow, the innocence of childhood (where my mom used to say I was the most forgiving person in the world) has been mucked over by a real bitch with a nasty right hook. I can be so stinking vicious!!! There are certain family members, coworkers, people who hated my dress, that will never know how truly angry I am with them; I lie to myself, and say that just because I've never really let them have it, that I've forgiven them, and it's all handled. Then, I lie awake at night, and think of all of the "zingers" I could have zapped them with, to make my point. Underneath it all, of course, is true hurt that I have to give to Jesus and let go. I'd rather stay mad and bitter, than forgive them, break off the muck, and get the hurt healed.
Is this the true nature of the human condition, in regards to forgiveness? Or am I alone in this?
As I was praying this phrase, "forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us," I stopped, and said, "Dear God, I hope not, because I suck at forgiveness!!!! If You forgive me, according to how I've forgiven other people, then I'm so totally screwed!!!"
I hold on to past hurts and issues so tightly, even though I know there's freedom at the cross. To forgive someone, to truly let it go--I'm not sure I even begin to know how to do that. Do you just stop talking about it (even to yourself), or is that bottling it up? Do you write one of those disposable letters that you burn and never send (that would be SO unfulfilling to me)? We lay things on an altar to give to Him, yet our hands are curled so closely around them that our fingers get burnt in the offering. Or, we let our "living sacrifices" crawl off of said altar and onto our backs to weigh us down another day.
There is freedom in forgiveness. The last thing I want to hear is someone I know tell someone else that "Cassidy has a problem with forgiveness," even though it was said in jest. That truly cut me to the quick, and made me wonder how much of that statement is true? More than I'd care to admit...but if you told me about it, I'd just stay mad at you. :)
I have been forgiven for so much...God is so much bigger than me, so much bigger than my sin, than my offense; who am I, to withhold forgiveness from anyone?
Forgiveness...
Just one more reason why I'm so thankful that God is God, and that Jesus came...and tomorrow is one more day toward learning to be like Him.
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