He is Risen. He is Risen indeed. Such simple words.
In some ways this is everything I dislike about Christianity.
A Pastor preaching from the pulpit. He speaks, we all respond -like trained rats. This is the one time of the year, the only time of the year, that I traditionally feel a strange hierarchy in the church body. The Pastor is the leader and we are the followers. He is somehow closer to God, and we are just hoping to learn from the wise, wise man who will later report to God who responded the quickest and loudest.
My cynicism would have played out again today, on this beautiful Easter morning, except for I don't have that kind of Pastor. My theory was debunked. I have a Pastor- in fact 6 Pastors- that are full of humility, kindness, love, grace- and very true hearts for God.
Isn't that how we determine how we feel about God? If we really search our hearts...is our impression of God at least a little bit tied to the impression we have of the person relaying His word?
When we meet people who have fallen away from the church, it's never about God. Never heard anyone say they just fell out of love with God. Never heard them say they met a thinner, more charming God. It's never that God didn't love them enough or didn't do enough for them. IT'S ABOUT THE PEOPLE.
This concept horrifies me, actually. When I tell people about my Jesus, are they thinking "really, if He loves us how we are, why do you tan and bleach your teeth- aren't you good enough, just as God made you"? I worry alot about that actually. I worry that people will think I'm a hypocrite.
You know, come to think of it, I actually am.
I started boycotting Beth Moore bible studies a long time ago for just that reason. She is wearing 4lbs of makeup and two full cans of hairspray- but wants me to believe that I am perfect in God's eyes. I look around at these women that I love and respect, just oozing over the latest B.M. study and I'm thinking- don't you see what I see? Thankfully, they don't. They have risen above the superficial. Beth wears make up, I wear make up. Beth does her hair, I do my hair. Beth wants to be heard- me too! Where have I been? Seriously- I'm a curvy brunette Beth Moore! OMG!
Time to accept it - we are all flawed. If we each allowed our flaws to stop us from sharing the Gospel, it simply wouldn't be shared. Which is worse, to tell someone about God that thinks you're kind of a phony, or just to never tell them? It might be better for us, but it's never better for the person who didn't hear it.
So- go ahead and screw it up! Quote the wrong verse, mess up the timeline and credit the wrong disciple for good works. It's OK! God will use it, even when we screw it up. I think God honors obedience and KNOWS we are going to screw it up. He MADE us screw it up- to benefit the screwed up person who's going to receive it.
God loves us through our mistakes. While we fumble, consistently. He LOVES consistently.
And, isn't that the real story of Jesus?
Consistent love. Safety. A promise. A true Forever.
I think the next time I tell someone about my Saviour, I'll stick to the facts:
I am a hypocrite. I am insecure about my physical appearance and it has led to all kinds of heartache. I sometimes come home at lunch to vacuum. I cry when I see couples holding hands because it makes me feel alone. Then I feel guilty because I should feel happy for them, that makes me cry too. I visit the tanning bed 4x a week because tan fat looks better than white fat. My teeth are bleached to the point that they are sensitive to cold, so I tell everyone I don't like ice cream. I have been on every diet known to man, and I actually consider purchasing those $200 infomercial weight loss kits. I kiss my pets on the lips. I kiss strangers pets on the lips.
And yet-
This morning, when I awoke, God rejoiced over me. With singing! ME.
and my tan fat. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. In His image. I am His treasured possession. He is for me, not against me and He is not keeping a record of my wrongs.
ME!!! This is almost too much for me to accept. But, for I have LIVED it.
Because someone.. a flawed someone... with a laundry list of shameful behavior I hope to never mimic... decided that God mattered more.
More than pride or shame or fear.
Which really means that my salvation meant more than their comfort.
Which is EXACTLY what Jesus has been teaching us all along.
He is Risen indeed.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
WARNING- THIS EDITION NOT FOR THE EASILY EMBARRASSED
So, I just got back from a run- and I must admit, I kicked some butt. Puppy butt to be exact. Charlie has finally been defeated.
To be fair, I guess I should start with my definition of running. I don't want anyone picturing me clad head to toe in lycra, planning out my route based on the maximum muscle burn. I don't use a heart monitor and (just our little secret) my water bottle is tainted with Coke Zero. Are you kind of getting the picture now? My "running" is kind of a fast walk, slow to medium jog thing. I'm just going to lay it out for you- due to a lapse of judgement fueled by low self esteem in my late 20's I'm now sporting a pair of coconuts that make Charo look like a prepubescent....... boy.
So, I'm not exactly built for speed.
Ok, so I just got back from a run... and, while running, my mind started to wander. I know that is shocking..but ...true. I wonder why it is that during my everyday normal life I notice things like puppies and old ladies and flowers. And I LOVE them. Truly, in my heart of hearts, I LOVE them. I imagine myself kissing the puppy and walking the old lady across the street with the flower perfectly poised in my hair.
But strap on some running shoes, a tank top and my iphone ...... I am a different woman. You better watch yourself if I am getting my Eminem on. I am like a beast.
I'm just saying.
The reason I run, in addition to trying to keep some perk in the hiney, is to clear my mind. I am totally and completely focused on the task at hand in every aspect of my life- except for this alone time. For me, it is a blessing and a form of expression that allows me to think randomly.
Today, on this run, I can't stop thinking about the little boy I wrote a motorcycle policy for at the very end of the day. He was adorable. 23 years old, just bought a 1984 Triumph 760cc bike. I have no idea what that means. I only know I am worried for him. While I am a girl-Mom, I have always wished I was a boy-Mom too. I have such a soft spot for the stinkier breed. :)
He walked into the office at 5:27 pm. Three minutes before I should have been walking out. He had his helmet in his hand. Decorated with that obnoxious booby girl symbol that is most often spotted on tractor trailer mudflaps. I know you know her. She may be partially to blame for my double D debacle. He saw my eyes looking at her and he put his jacket over the whole helmet and set it on the floor. He smiled a big cheesy grin and announced "I just bought this bike myself and I need to get insurance".
How sweet are you? You bought it yourself? Freaking adorable.
I was actually feeling proud of him- like it was my job as the Mom-of-the-minute to compliment him on being a big boy now. I just wanted to pinch his little cheek.
I resisted, as that could have been interpreted as creepy, and we went about the business of writing insurance. As I'm asking him the practical questions, he's interjecting- more about what a grown up he is- his job, his education...and his BIKE. I know that he was 23 because I had to ask his date of birth. I'm telling you, he looked like he was 14. He could have been my baby, for heaven's sake.
We got through the application and he took out his cash (he's getting a checking account next week- darling!) paid for his policy, signed on the dotted line...snatched up the booby girl and off they went.
Before he got to the door I said "You're going to be careful, right? No standing up, no popping wheelies? You won't ride between cars, or after you've had even one drink, right?" He giggled. Like little boys giggle.
"No, Maam, I won't".
"OK, because your Mom wants you to come home safely tonight- and there are people who love you that want you to be safe".
"Yes, Maam, I know".
"OK then- have a nice evening".
He went right to the parking lot in back and I followed him out going left to my car parked a few blocks away. I got to the crosswalk wondering - Did I say enough? Does he just think I'm a nutty insurance agent old lady? AM I a nutty insurance agent old lady? Then he rode up next to me on the street and lifted his little face flap.
"Um, hey, thanks for the reminder about being safe. 'Preciate it".
Yeah! I'm not nutty. Fruity, maybe :)
And it made me think.... we all want someone to watch over us. All need a little love. The human condition has us constantly seeking acceptance, but constantly denying that we need it. I decided a long time ago to say what is on my mind. To not get to the end of my life having regrets for holding back the things that fill people up or help them on their way- even if it makes me the oddball sometimes. For all I know that kid could be making fun of me at a frat party tonight.
Or maybe... he didn't take a risk he was going to take. Maybe he slowed down a little, or decided not to race a sportscar in traffic. I don't know. Maybe he forgot he even met me.
But I know I spoke up. I know I stood in for his Mama, who probably doesn't even know her son bought that bike.
It is my most sincere prayer that someone will do the same for me.
Jesus was in the business of standing in the gap. While we were but His enemies, he went to the cross for us.
It is possible, that the closest I will ever get to being a gap-stander is nagging a kid about obeying traffic laws. I'm Ok with that. God can and does work through anyone.
Even large breasted, reading glasses wearing, dog lip kissing insurance agents.
AKA- Runners. :)
To be fair, I guess I should start with my definition of running. I don't want anyone picturing me clad head to toe in lycra, planning out my route based on the maximum muscle burn. I don't use a heart monitor and (just our little secret) my water bottle is tainted with Coke Zero. Are you kind of getting the picture now? My "running" is kind of a fast walk, slow to medium jog thing. I'm just going to lay it out for you- due to a lapse of judgement fueled by low self esteem in my late 20's I'm now sporting a pair of coconuts that make Charo look like a prepubescent....... boy.
So, I'm not exactly built for speed.
Ok, so I just got back from a run... and, while running, my mind started to wander. I know that is shocking..but ...true. I wonder why it is that during my everyday normal life I notice things like puppies and old ladies and flowers. And I LOVE them. Truly, in my heart of hearts, I LOVE them. I imagine myself kissing the puppy and walking the old lady across the street with the flower perfectly poised in my hair.
But strap on some running shoes, a tank top and my iphone ...... I am a different woman. You better watch yourself if I am getting my Eminem on. I am like a beast.
I'm just saying.
The reason I run, in addition to trying to keep some perk in the hiney, is to clear my mind. I am totally and completely focused on the task at hand in every aspect of my life- except for this alone time. For me, it is a blessing and a form of expression that allows me to think randomly.
Today, on this run, I can't stop thinking about the little boy I wrote a motorcycle policy for at the very end of the day. He was adorable. 23 years old, just bought a 1984 Triumph 760cc bike. I have no idea what that means. I only know I am worried for him. While I am a girl-Mom, I have always wished I was a boy-Mom too. I have such a soft spot for the stinkier breed. :)
He walked into the office at 5:27 pm. Three minutes before I should have been walking out. He had his helmet in his hand. Decorated with that obnoxious booby girl symbol that is most often spotted on tractor trailer mudflaps. I know you know her. She may be partially to blame for my double D debacle. He saw my eyes looking at her and he put his jacket over the whole helmet and set it on the floor. He smiled a big cheesy grin and announced "I just bought this bike myself and I need to get insurance".
How sweet are you? You bought it yourself? Freaking adorable.
I was actually feeling proud of him- like it was my job as the Mom-of-the-minute to compliment him on being a big boy now. I just wanted to pinch his little cheek.
I resisted, as that could have been interpreted as creepy, and we went about the business of writing insurance. As I'm asking him the practical questions, he's interjecting- more about what a grown up he is- his job, his education...and his BIKE. I know that he was 23 because I had to ask his date of birth. I'm telling you, he looked like he was 14. He could have been my baby, for heaven's sake.
We got through the application and he took out his cash (he's getting a checking account next week- darling!) paid for his policy, signed on the dotted line...snatched up the booby girl and off they went.
Before he got to the door I said "You're going to be careful, right? No standing up, no popping wheelies? You won't ride between cars, or after you've had even one drink, right?" He giggled. Like little boys giggle.
"No, Maam, I won't".
"OK, because your Mom wants you to come home safely tonight- and there are people who love you that want you to be safe".
"Yes, Maam, I know".
"OK then- have a nice evening".
He went right to the parking lot in back and I followed him out going left to my car parked a few blocks away. I got to the crosswalk wondering - Did I say enough? Does he just think I'm a nutty insurance agent old lady? AM I a nutty insurance agent old lady? Then he rode up next to me on the street and lifted his little face flap.
"Um, hey, thanks for the reminder about being safe. 'Preciate it".
Yeah! I'm not nutty. Fruity, maybe :)
And it made me think.... we all want someone to watch over us. All need a little love. The human condition has us constantly seeking acceptance, but constantly denying that we need it. I decided a long time ago to say what is on my mind. To not get to the end of my life having regrets for holding back the things that fill people up or help them on their way- even if it makes me the oddball sometimes. For all I know that kid could be making fun of me at a frat party tonight.
Or maybe... he didn't take a risk he was going to take. Maybe he slowed down a little, or decided not to race a sportscar in traffic. I don't know. Maybe he forgot he even met me.
But I know I spoke up. I know I stood in for his Mama, who probably doesn't even know her son bought that bike.
It is my most sincere prayer that someone will do the same for me.
Jesus was in the business of standing in the gap. While we were but His enemies, he went to the cross for us.
It is possible, that the closest I will ever get to being a gap-stander is nagging a kid about obeying traffic laws. I'm Ok with that. God can and does work through anyone.
Even large breasted, reading glasses wearing, dog lip kissing insurance agents.
AKA- Runners. :)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Amazing Grace~ the Choice to Love
Today, someone showed me a beautiful, tender amount of grace.
With no agenda, other than to walk as closely to Jesus as possible.
I had to tell someone about my past. Conjure up the old ugly and spill it all out.
I think when we are blessed to be in a church family that has walked through our rivers and over our mountains with us, we escape having to "tell our story". This is a blessing, and a curse. It can be awfully comfortable in the cocoon of love we wrap ourselves in- all toasty and warm.
It can make us want to stay right there.
Then you meet someone new. It really doesn't matter what kind of relationship it is. A new co-worker, friend of a friend, someone in line at the coffee shop, a neighbor, a new running partner... anyone. Eventually, you will meet someone who doesn't know your hurt. That's when the shame sets in.
So, I've been married more than once. And more than twice. And I'm not married now. So what does that make me? Do you have any idea how painful it is to tell that to someone? The shame is overwhelming. The fear of judgement tears at my heart.
I know someone who spent many years in prison, most of his life actually. He's now my brother in Christ and when I look at him I only see the beautiful man that God made him into. Until this moment I forgot that was his story. I can't imagine him anywhere other than in love with his beautiful wife and sitting across from me in church. That's just who he is.
I pray that when people look at me they see the Jennie God made and not the Jennie the world made. I hope they see a little light shining in a girl who loves deeply, who believes in commitment...and forgiveness... and grace.
In our house, we call that "putting on our Godgles". God goggles = the way that God sees the situation instead of the way our human nature sees it.
Please do not be confused- I AM A SINNER. Rotten, dirty, nasty and undeserving. If Jesus was here right now, he'd hang with me. Yep- Jennie and the prostitutes and the tax collectors- we are all pretty much in the same group. I am also one of the most empathetic, soft hearted, forgiving sinners you'll ever meet. I have walked a crooked path to get to my God- through fire, 2 steps forward, 3 steps back, sometimes needing to be carried, sometimes kicking and screaming...but I got here. He found me.
And I never turned away.
Since the day I heard God speak into my heart, that has been my song. I have never doubted, never questioned, never wondered. I have watched those I deeply love struggle with belief and I have never been that girl. I am so thankful. A straighter path may have been too easy for me. He knows I like a challenge. Knows I need to"earn" it or it won't feel real. He knows I'm a Jew stuck in a Gentile's body. :)
And so... I told my story. To someone who doesn't know me....or my family....or my friends. Nobody to vouch for me, just me.
Turns out... this friend is broken too.
Knows how hard it is to have that conversation. Knows that everyone at some point to enter into true community..... has to have that conversation. Everyone has ugly. God turns it all into beauty. If he turned it a long time ago, we may have forgotten that we ever had ugly at all.
That's when God gives us the choice. "Are you going to love them or not? Are you going to remember what I told you? The most important thing that I asked you to do? Are you going to remember what I did for you? Are you going to be for me or against me?"
Oh, it's great when our pastors preach it. We like to tell it to our children. I wave the Christian flag as high as I can. But what does that MEAN? Follower of Christ.
Christ-like. It means we either live a life of love or we are hypocrites. No gray area.
Today, a stranger chose to love me. Spoke with kindness and empathy. And that made my heart sing. And it made me forget that I was ever ashamed. And it reminded me of the power of our words. And it made me want to love harder and be more forgiving to the strangers in my own life. To turn them into friends.
And I will remember the example that was set by Jesus and the little miracle that happens every time a believer believes.
I believe that God makes us new creatures. I believe that He sees us as Holy and Blameless. US. Not just you. I believe that He knows every hair on my head and mapped out every step of my path.
I believe He loves us equally. In the same way that we love our children equally.
And we are NEVER ashamed of them. Regardless of their path. And we are so proud of them..... especially when they choose to love.
With no agenda, other than to walk as closely to Jesus as possible.
I had to tell someone about my past. Conjure up the old ugly and spill it all out.
I think when we are blessed to be in a church family that has walked through our rivers and over our mountains with us, we escape having to "tell our story". This is a blessing, and a curse. It can be awfully comfortable in the cocoon of love we wrap ourselves in- all toasty and warm.
It can make us want to stay right there.
Then you meet someone new. It really doesn't matter what kind of relationship it is. A new co-worker, friend of a friend, someone in line at the coffee shop, a neighbor, a new running partner... anyone. Eventually, you will meet someone who doesn't know your hurt. That's when the shame sets in.
So, I've been married more than once. And more than twice. And I'm not married now. So what does that make me? Do you have any idea how painful it is to tell that to someone? The shame is overwhelming. The fear of judgement tears at my heart.
I know someone who spent many years in prison, most of his life actually. He's now my brother in Christ and when I look at him I only see the beautiful man that God made him into. Until this moment I forgot that was his story. I can't imagine him anywhere other than in love with his beautiful wife and sitting across from me in church. That's just who he is.
I pray that when people look at me they see the Jennie God made and not the Jennie the world made. I hope they see a little light shining in a girl who loves deeply, who believes in commitment...and forgiveness... and grace.
In our house, we call that "putting on our Godgles". God goggles = the way that God sees the situation instead of the way our human nature sees it.
Please do not be confused- I AM A SINNER. Rotten, dirty, nasty and undeserving. If Jesus was here right now, he'd hang with me. Yep- Jennie and the prostitutes and the tax collectors- we are all pretty much in the same group. I am also one of the most empathetic, soft hearted, forgiving sinners you'll ever meet. I have walked a crooked path to get to my God- through fire, 2 steps forward, 3 steps back, sometimes needing to be carried, sometimes kicking and screaming...but I got here. He found me.
And I never turned away.
Since the day I heard God speak into my heart, that has been my song. I have never doubted, never questioned, never wondered. I have watched those I deeply love struggle with belief and I have never been that girl. I am so thankful. A straighter path may have been too easy for me. He knows I like a challenge. Knows I need to"earn" it or it won't feel real. He knows I'm a Jew stuck in a Gentile's body. :)
And so... I told my story. To someone who doesn't know me....or my family....or my friends. Nobody to vouch for me, just me.
Turns out... this friend is broken too.
Knows how hard it is to have that conversation. Knows that everyone at some point to enter into true community..... has to have that conversation. Everyone has ugly. God turns it all into beauty. If he turned it a long time ago, we may have forgotten that we ever had ugly at all.
That's when God gives us the choice. "Are you going to love them or not? Are you going to remember what I told you? The most important thing that I asked you to do? Are you going to remember what I did for you? Are you going to be for me or against me?"
Oh, it's great when our pastors preach it. We like to tell it to our children. I wave the Christian flag as high as I can. But what does that MEAN? Follower of Christ.
Christ-like. It means we either live a life of love or we are hypocrites. No gray area.
Today, a stranger chose to love me. Spoke with kindness and empathy. And that made my heart sing. And it made me forget that I was ever ashamed. And it reminded me of the power of our words. And it made me want to love harder and be more forgiving to the strangers in my own life. To turn them into friends.
And I will remember the example that was set by Jesus and the little miracle that happens every time a believer believes.
I believe that God makes us new creatures. I believe that He sees us as Holy and Blameless. US. Not just you. I believe that He knows every hair on my head and mapped out every step of my path.
I believe He loves us equally. In the same way that we love our children equally.
And we are NEVER ashamed of them. Regardless of their path. And we are so proud of them..... especially when they choose to love.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Who's the adult here???
So, my girlies are both gone next week. Sarah is in Disney WORLD with her Dad and the fam and Grace-Catherine is taking her very first domestic missions trip. I am beaming right now, in case you weren't sure. My Gracie is bringing Jesus to the ghetto- Stockton, Ca. Whoop Whoop! Maybe Jesus is bringing Gracie? Probably more accurate. Anyway....
This means Mom is flying solo. Monday through Friday. Let the party begin!
As Sar got out of the car last night after youth group we had a family prayer and she looked me square in the eyes.... "Mom, please do something when we're gone. Don't just do things alone. Go out to dinner with a friend or something".
She actually sounded worried.
WHAT THE HELLO-KITTY????
I'm social!!! I have friends!!!! Ok, alright... they all live in Sacramento, so I don't seem them daily like I did before we moved, but...c'mon. She was talking as though I am a hermit. I socialize all day long at work- that's 10 hours a day! I run my dog in the mornings! I ride my bike after work! I see people! Next week- I'm riding my bike TO work- how do you like me now? Punk teenager. Talking to her sweet Mama like that. Seriously?
OK, now I'll tell it straight. I will probably cry on Monday and maybe Tuesday. I'll take a long jog in the mornings and hit the gym after work. I'll maybe have a sushi night on Wednesday if my friend ends up coming through Davis..Thursday I'll work out again and Friday I'll clean and do laundry. Really, is that so pathetic?
Um. Yes.
Uggghh. So here is the problem. I am partner oriented. I was built for relationship. I want one man for the rest of my life, end of story. I don't want to smother or be smothered. I just want to be near "my man". Enjoying life and each other. I want to grow a family- whatever that family looks like: existing kids, adopted kids, nieces, nephews, cousins, elderly parents. I want to nurture and love and train up Godly people.... because that is what I do and who I am. Why is this so elusive?
I love to entertain. It's sad to have all of your married friends over and hear the banter and sweetness. Wonderful, but sad at the same time. I enjoy going out..but there is something creepy about going out without a ring on your finger. Really, doing anything without a ring on your finger. You just look- so..... available. I don't remember men being so bold when I was a younger woman. I was much cuter, so that seems like a strange twist. Maybe as men approach their late 40's/ early 50's....late 30's still looks good? I just don't know. Lower standards? It's looking like... yes.
So, I guess I am alone... because I am alone. My kids obviously notice it. And notice that part of me is missing because of it. And they are worried. For me. Like I worry for them every day. Funny how the tables have turned. They are growing up.. Sarah will be driving in less than a year...Gracie in 5.
Seven years from now I may have an empty nest. I thought I would only ever be the mother of toddlers. Bouncy, giggly girls that smelled like baby powder and shampoo. Delicious.
So, I know what I am doing next week. Spending time with MY MAN. I'm going to finish re-reading Romans and I'm going to pray. On my knees, beside my bed. Where I love to spend time with Him. I'm going to pray for forgiveness and for grace. And for the ability to feel beautiful ALONE. Until I am not. To not feel like half. To not feel that my family is lacking because we are 3 and not 4. To teach my daughters to wait. To wait. Until God sends him. And to listen. And to hear.
And to be very careful to model what a healthy woman looks like.
I want one man, for the rest of my life, end of story.
Thank you, Jesus. You're the man. :)
This means Mom is flying solo. Monday through Friday. Let the party begin!
As Sar got out of the car last night after youth group we had a family prayer and she looked me square in the eyes.... "Mom, please do something when we're gone. Don't just do things alone. Go out to dinner with a friend or something".
She actually sounded worried.
WHAT THE HELLO-KITTY????
I'm social!!! I have friends!!!! Ok, alright... they all live in Sacramento, so I don't seem them daily like I did before we moved, but...c'mon. She was talking as though I am a hermit. I socialize all day long at work- that's 10 hours a day! I run my dog in the mornings! I ride my bike after work! I see people! Next week- I'm riding my bike TO work- how do you like me now? Punk teenager. Talking to her sweet Mama like that. Seriously?
OK, now I'll tell it straight. I will probably cry on Monday and maybe Tuesday. I'll take a long jog in the mornings and hit the gym after work. I'll maybe have a sushi night on Wednesday if my friend ends up coming through Davis..Thursday I'll work out again and Friday I'll clean and do laundry. Really, is that so pathetic?
Um. Yes.
Uggghh. So here is the problem. I am partner oriented. I was built for relationship. I want one man for the rest of my life, end of story. I don't want to smother or be smothered. I just want to be near "my man". Enjoying life and each other. I want to grow a family- whatever that family looks like: existing kids, adopted kids, nieces, nephews, cousins, elderly parents. I want to nurture and love and train up Godly people.... because that is what I do and who I am. Why is this so elusive?
I love to entertain. It's sad to have all of your married friends over and hear the banter and sweetness. Wonderful, but sad at the same time. I enjoy going out..but there is something creepy about going out without a ring on your finger. Really, doing anything without a ring on your finger. You just look- so..... available. I don't remember men being so bold when I was a younger woman. I was much cuter, so that seems like a strange twist. Maybe as men approach their late 40's/ early 50's....late 30's still looks good? I just don't know. Lower standards? It's looking like... yes.
So, I guess I am alone... because I am alone. My kids obviously notice it. And notice that part of me is missing because of it. And they are worried. For me. Like I worry for them every day. Funny how the tables have turned. They are growing up.. Sarah will be driving in less than a year...Gracie in 5.
Seven years from now I may have an empty nest. I thought I would only ever be the mother of toddlers. Bouncy, giggly girls that smelled like baby powder and shampoo. Delicious.
So, I know what I am doing next week. Spending time with MY MAN. I'm going to finish re-reading Romans and I'm going to pray. On my knees, beside my bed. Where I love to spend time with Him. I'm going to pray for forgiveness and for grace. And for the ability to feel beautiful ALONE. Until I am not. To not feel like half. To not feel that my family is lacking because we are 3 and not 4. To teach my daughters to wait. To wait. Until God sends him. And to listen. And to hear.
And to be very careful to model what a healthy woman looks like.
I want one man, for the rest of my life, end of story.
Thank you, Jesus. You're the man. :)
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Where have they gone???
As I was driving to work today..I wondered aloud....where have all the spinners gone?
Oh, you know what I'm talking about..the hub cap accessory of days past.
You know you remember when back in the day if your "traffic neighbor" had a good bass thump going, dollars to donuts he was rockin' a bad ass set of spinners. Sometimes they were even "frogged out", which has nothing to do with amphibians and everything to do with an unneccessary vehicular add on that could be potentially dangerous to other motorists.
The only real purpose for these eye catching chatchkis was...to steal them? To impress young girls who didn't know that should be a sign to RUN? Were gang wars started over spinners? Are gang wars real? I just don't know.
What does Jesus think of spinners? It is my assumption that Jesus, while sitting at the right hand of My Best Friend, probably chuckled "Hey Dad, look what they're doing NOW!".
God must be amazed by the ridiculous ways we find to waste our gifts. We waste our money, we waste our time... and we waste each others time and money. I believe that we do all of these things simply.... in pursuit of LOVE.
That little boy with the $$$ sign spinners probably worked 100 hours at $8/hr to pay for those. He probably brought them home to an apartment he shared with his Mom who could barely make the rent. Probably has some younger siblings who haven't played ball at the park in a really long time..if ever. Probably drove by 10 churches in that car and instead pulled into 7-11 for a slushie.
That little boy is me...and you. Now, you will never find something so ridiculous as moving hub caps on my Mercedes. You will find 67 pairs of shoes in my closet. A matching handbag for each pair. If it glitters or is pink- I'll buy it. If it glitters AND is pink, I'll greatly overpay for it. And then I'll wear it to church so you'll notice and I'll put EXACTLY 10% in the plate as it passes by. Not one cent more. And if my friends find something pink and glittery, they'll buy it for me too. And I'll feel special. Because you bought me something. As I am sitting in church. And there is a family out of work sitting next to me. And my pastors are struggling to meet all of the church's needs. And there are people with a servant's heart who will give up everything to serve out of country, if only they could get some funding for their mission. And I am a complete idiot. Who wasted the resources that God lovingly lavished on me. That I prayed for when I was unemployed. That I preach at my kids to appreciate. That I DO NOT DESERVE. Because I want to be noticed and I want to be loved and I mostly feel unnoticed and unloved. And on top of all of that.. I judged that little boy who wasted differently than I did. And different is wrong- so you are not loved. And I am so sorry.
Father God, thank you for moments of clarity when I have eyes that see and ears that hear and a heart that yearns for you.
Thank you for forgiving me and loving me the other 99% of the time.
Oh, you know what I'm talking about..the hub cap accessory of days past.
You know you remember when back in the day if your "traffic neighbor" had a good bass thump going, dollars to donuts he was rockin' a bad ass set of spinners. Sometimes they were even "frogged out", which has nothing to do with amphibians and everything to do with an unneccessary vehicular add on that could be potentially dangerous to other motorists.
The only real purpose for these eye catching chatchkis was...to steal them? To impress young girls who didn't know that should be a sign to RUN? Were gang wars started over spinners? Are gang wars real? I just don't know.
What does Jesus think of spinners? It is my assumption that Jesus, while sitting at the right hand of My Best Friend, probably chuckled "Hey Dad, look what they're doing NOW!".
God must be amazed by the ridiculous ways we find to waste our gifts. We waste our money, we waste our time... and we waste each others time and money. I believe that we do all of these things simply.... in pursuit of LOVE.
That little boy with the $$$ sign spinners probably worked 100 hours at $8/hr to pay for those. He probably brought them home to an apartment he shared with his Mom who could barely make the rent. Probably has some younger siblings who haven't played ball at the park in a really long time..if ever. Probably drove by 10 churches in that car and instead pulled into 7-11 for a slushie.
That little boy is me...and you. Now, you will never find something so ridiculous as moving hub caps on my Mercedes. You will find 67 pairs of shoes in my closet. A matching handbag for each pair. If it glitters or is pink- I'll buy it. If it glitters AND is pink, I'll greatly overpay for it. And then I'll wear it to church so you'll notice and I'll put EXACTLY 10% in the plate as it passes by. Not one cent more. And if my friends find something pink and glittery, they'll buy it for me too. And I'll feel special. Because you bought me something. As I am sitting in church. And there is a family out of work sitting next to me. And my pastors are struggling to meet all of the church's needs. And there are people with a servant's heart who will give up everything to serve out of country, if only they could get some funding for their mission. And I am a complete idiot. Who wasted the resources that God lovingly lavished on me. That I prayed for when I was unemployed. That I preach at my kids to appreciate. That I DO NOT DESERVE. Because I want to be noticed and I want to be loved and I mostly feel unnoticed and unloved. And on top of all of that.. I judged that little boy who wasted differently than I did. And different is wrong- so you are not loved. And I am so sorry.
Father God, thank you for moments of clarity when I have eyes that see and ears that hear and a heart that yearns for you.
Thank you for forgiving me and loving me the other 99% of the time.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Good Morning Jesus!
The first week that I was in my new place, I would wake up and turn immediately to my right so that I would see what I always saw when I turned to the right- the wall. Somehow, that was comforting. I couldn't bear the view to the left. A new view. A view that represented change- my nemisis.
I am naturally a side sleeper...a left facing side sleeper, so forcing this half-awake-I just realized-again-that-I-live-here turn to the right was, simply put...awful.
The second week I decided to try just laying there with my eyes clinched shut, but then my puppy Charlie could sneak up on me and I'd get a two inch tongue up my nose which is even worse than it sounds. Eventually, I'd have to open my eyes and accept that I was in a different place, in every sense. The girl who traded fear for boldness a long time ago is feeling... afraid. And alone. I don't know anyone here. I NEED people. Who will I invite over for dinner? Or just to watch a movie? My whole life is now my kids, my dog and my cat. Uggggh. Kinda pathetic. I'm the cat lady of Davis. Holy Word!
I prayed about this constantly. My sleep habits changed because I didn't want to go to bed so that I wouldn't have to wake up. I tried sleeping on the floor near the closet, snoozing on the couch and attempted to wriggle a comfortable spot in my recliner.
Alas... I needed to sleep in my bed. I resigned myself to the fact that every morning when I woke up I would have to readjust to this "normal"and it would go that way until God decided it wouldn't.
This little apartment was nothing like my house and very hard to decorate. Nothing seemed to fit- not the armoire, the chairs, the couch...not even the art. I was desperate to turn this place into a home for the girls...and for me. I needed it. I thrive on structure and safety and repetitiveness..and the last 12 months had been chaos.
I decided to take the day off from work and FINISH unpacking. Every single item, hung, folded, displayed or thrown away. No more boxes. I needed CONTROL of my life (after almost 40 years you'd think I'd have given up that struggle!) and I didn't even feel in control of my 950 sf living space. So, I diligently went to work feathering my nest. After 5 straight hours, I had only one thing left. A 36 x 42 picture of Jesus. I have no idea why I ever bought that thing. I love my man Jesus and all, but that is HUGE. Kinda gawdy, even for a sweet Christian girl like me. I think, honestly... I bought it for the frame. How shameful.
I also had only one spot that needed something hung on it - a reverse wall in my bedroom. The blank wall I had been begrudgingly staring at every time I forgot to turn to the right when I woke up. A perfect fit. Let's just hang the giant Jesus so I can call this place DONE. Check it off the list. Feel accomplished.
And I woke up in the morning... to my Saviour gazing slightly to the left...at His Father.
JUST LIKE ME!!!! I was gazing slightly to the left- AT MY FATHER!
For once in my life, I was exactly like Jesus. And it was amazing.
In an instant, God had let me out of that sad, sad place. I felt well rested and whole. When I prayed that morning I just was so overwhelmed with love...like the very first time that I asked God into my heart. I floated around the rest of the day unable to think about anything but the giant Jesus that saved me...again.
I realized today, after an amazing sermon by one of my very favorite people.. that sometimes Jesus has to be a giant for us. (Maybe because of my giant ego, my giant self-pity or my giant stubbornness?) And sometimes, he just leans down gently and kisses us on the forehead and tip toes out of the room..... because.....
we are already asleep.
I am naturally a side sleeper...a left facing side sleeper, so forcing this half-awake-I just realized-again-that-I-live-here turn to the right was, simply put...awful.
The second week I decided to try just laying there with my eyes clinched shut, but then my puppy Charlie could sneak up on me and I'd get a two inch tongue up my nose which is even worse than it sounds. Eventually, I'd have to open my eyes and accept that I was in a different place, in every sense. The girl who traded fear for boldness a long time ago is feeling... afraid. And alone. I don't know anyone here. I NEED people. Who will I invite over for dinner? Or just to watch a movie? My whole life is now my kids, my dog and my cat. Uggggh. Kinda pathetic. I'm the cat lady of Davis. Holy Word!
I prayed about this constantly. My sleep habits changed because I didn't want to go to bed so that I wouldn't have to wake up. I tried sleeping on the floor near the closet, snoozing on the couch and attempted to wriggle a comfortable spot in my recliner.
Alas... I needed to sleep in my bed. I resigned myself to the fact that every morning when I woke up I would have to readjust to this "normal"and it would go that way until God decided it wouldn't.
This little apartment was nothing like my house and very hard to decorate. Nothing seemed to fit- not the armoire, the chairs, the couch...not even the art. I was desperate to turn this place into a home for the girls...and for me. I needed it. I thrive on structure and safety and repetitiveness..and the last 12 months had been chaos.
I decided to take the day off from work and FINISH unpacking. Every single item, hung, folded, displayed or thrown away. No more boxes. I needed CONTROL of my life (after almost 40 years you'd think I'd have given up that struggle!) and I didn't even feel in control of my 950 sf living space. So, I diligently went to work feathering my nest. After 5 straight hours, I had only one thing left. A 36 x 42 picture of Jesus. I have no idea why I ever bought that thing. I love my man Jesus and all, but that is HUGE. Kinda gawdy, even for a sweet Christian girl like me. I think, honestly... I bought it for the frame. How shameful.
I also had only one spot that needed something hung on it - a reverse wall in my bedroom. The blank wall I had been begrudgingly staring at every time I forgot to turn to the right when I woke up. A perfect fit. Let's just hang the giant Jesus so I can call this place DONE. Check it off the list. Feel accomplished.
And I woke up in the morning... to my Saviour gazing slightly to the left...at His Father.
JUST LIKE ME!!!! I was gazing slightly to the left- AT MY FATHER!
For once in my life, I was exactly like Jesus. And it was amazing.
In an instant, God had let me out of that sad, sad place. I felt well rested and whole. When I prayed that morning I just was so overwhelmed with love...like the very first time that I asked God into my heart. I floated around the rest of the day unable to think about anything but the giant Jesus that saved me...again.
I realized today, after an amazing sermon by one of my very favorite people.. that sometimes Jesus has to be a giant for us. (Maybe because of my giant ego, my giant self-pity or my giant stubbornness?) And sometimes, he just leans down gently and kisses us on the forehead and tip toes out of the room..... because.....
we are already asleep.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
A New Girl in a New Town.. Amen
I have lived in Davis since early March. It is beautiful here. The streets are clean, the yards are manicured and the sun seems to shine a little brighter in this University town. Everyone in Davis is educated, if not intellegent. It is charming, eclectic and funky, all at the same time. You can find gelato at midnight, Thai cuisine next door to Nepalese take-out and there is an entire city block of independent retailers that are thriving. The only thing I haven't found here... is God. Oh, I've been looking for Him. I slipped in "God Bless You" the other day when someone sneezed. Nothing. I told the kid at Starbucks to have a "blessed" day. Nada. I told someone else I'd pray for them- no response. Nope- no God here, I'm afraid.
Until dinner time.
Tonight was GNO- girls night out- which in our house means we three girlies hit the town for dinner and a movie. I have been wanting to try this quaint little eatery called Caffe Italia and I'm the Mom so off we went. Got our seat, placed our order and started to sip our drinks, patiently awaiting billowing pasta and creamy cheese- laden sauce that I know will cost me an extra 30 minutes on tomorrow's morning jog. The food arrives in stages..Sarah's, then mine...with Gracie's promised close behind. We decide to pray so we can start. We held hands, bowed our heads, closed our eyes and gave thanks. As the prayer ended I heard "Amen" in a voice I didn't recognize. It was our waitress.
And just like that... He appeared.
Tomorrow, I will remember that all it takes to heal a heart, or make a family feel welcome in a new town, or help someone to be bold in their own faith, or to teach two teenage girls about the kindness of strangers.. is simply.... Amen.
Amen.
Until dinner time.
Tonight was GNO- girls night out- which in our house means we three girlies hit the town for dinner and a movie. I have been wanting to try this quaint little eatery called Caffe Italia and I'm the Mom so off we went. Got our seat, placed our order and started to sip our drinks, patiently awaiting billowing pasta and creamy cheese- laden sauce that I know will cost me an extra 30 minutes on tomorrow's morning jog. The food arrives in stages..Sarah's, then mine...with Gracie's promised close behind. We decide to pray so we can start. We held hands, bowed our heads, closed our eyes and gave thanks. As the prayer ended I heard "Amen" in a voice I didn't recognize. It was our waitress.
And just like that... He appeared.
Tomorrow, I will remember that all it takes to heal a heart, or make a family feel welcome in a new town, or help someone to be bold in their own faith, or to teach two teenage girls about the kindness of strangers.. is simply.... Amen.
Amen.
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