killing time

Mario Andretti once said "If everything seems under control, you're just not going fast enough."

November was that month for me...and today marks the offical farewell to it forever (honest...it was true when I started writing this and now it's 4 days later).

So, in tribute to time, I was marveling how SPEED is something that terrifies me.

Once, when I was skiing with my brother, he told me to go straight down this hill in order to maintain enough momentum to get up the small hill just ahead. He took off, like brothers do...and made it look easy. I started out okay. Really. Until I decided that I was now going "too fast" and I needed to get off the ride. Now.

So, at the fastest point of my descent, I sat down. (Shortly thereafter I turned into a glistening snowball...)

There's something to that "not being in control" stuff that hurts just as much. I'm fully aware that being in control is really only a facade anyway. It's something we convince ourselves we have in order to feel secure. Ultimately, I know I am not in control of anything (except for my attitude).

But acknowleding that I am not in control is still scary. Especially when it starts to snowball (like my body did that day), and when I realize the universe actually has always existed without my control, and will continue to exist without my control. The point is...only One really has it all wrapped around His little finger. God does. Nothing surprises Him. Not the flu, not stolen cars, not your brand new allergy to dairy. (He even knows where your missing keys are.)

He is in control of everything we are not. (All who trust Him enter a corporate sigh of relief here.)

THE END

(Oh...and Misty, that means there is no fear in losing control over your speed either. Next time enjoy the ride.)

Get real.

Today I was doing some research.
My project was to write a monologue for the Christmas play about "going through the motions." I began my search on-line by looking for a blog because I assumed that would be a place where real people would share their thoughts and struggles on how mundane the ordinary can be at times. Instead, what I found was the author of every blog talking about how "those people" need to "do this" and "fix that." I didn't find one place where the author acknowledged that they currently struggled with it in any way. What is a blog for if you can't admit your failings? Why do they think we can heal themselves by pointing out how to fix everyone else's issues? I thought a blog was a place of being real.
Confess.
Discuss.
Fart.
Slam your finger in the door and tell the world your life is out of control.

Apparently it is also a soapbox with no burden of authenticity.

Front porch night

Sun light off...Porch light on
Another year has come and gone
On this day, I am never more aware of footsteps on my porch.
Stomp. Stomp. Ding. Dong.
Gimme candy. Sing a song.
Blue beards, green foreheads, and rumpled wrinkles greet me with toothless grins and eyeballs patched
Expressions of fear, exhuberance, and sorrow are matched
with varying ages,
and decomposed stages
Begging me for candy with crackled voices, pillow cases, and
suspect faces
Screaming in the distance!
Yet so much persistence...
Illegal fireworks, crisp leaves, running feet
jumping on my porch to meet
my very placid, skin-colored, normal face.
Still they come.
To meet the dead flowers still in pots
Two pumpkins with low watts
I scuttle to my door again
and scratch my brain
on no other night but this
For memories of my childhood call me to
reminisce.

Peace of Cake

I don't know about you, but at the core of my being, I long to please God.

This is more easily done than said
(It's awkward to say, feels selfish, demanding, spoiled.)
But it's true, nonetheless, for I love Him, and I want to know if He is pleased
with me...?

Something else lingers at the core of my being
It's confidence,
a quiet place of contentment,
where I know that I do please God.

For no sooner does the question leave my lips then I just know
He is smiling.
It has nothing to do with my actions, but everything to do with
who I am.
And who He is.
For I am His beloved. And He is mine.

Thus, my thoughts form a rippled reflection of the fruit of PEACE in my life...
a pocket-sized portion of its manifestation in my walk.

Sometimes Peace doesn't come until I quiet myself
But it is always there,
waiting for me.

Other times Peace weeps for me
as I struggle against its current,
fighting,
striving for it,
not realizing I am already
immersed
and would flow freely if I just
rest
trust
go

If Peace is a river, I am baptized in it.

Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be
afraid."

But I fear what I do not
understand.
And when I stand at the edge of a
swiftly flowing river
it appears chaotic and scary
because I don't understand
the flow of the currents.

Once I begin to recognize that the
currents of Peace
are made up of distinct features…
pathways begin to open up in the middle of life's chaos.

The pathway
is not passive
Nor is it aggressive
It's deliberately
in between
conquering
anxiety and doubt
Always flowing
around the rocks
the currents
deep and shallow
fresh and foul
lie just beneath the surface
edges defined clearly
yet surging in season
spreading life
wherever it goes

"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast,

because he trusts in you."

Ps. 26:3

the History of Famous Inventions

Do you ever wonder who first discovered popcorn? I think about it all the time. In fact, I'm convinced it happened when a dirty, naked man in a bat cave threw his cob of corn into a fire and...POP! was followed by SCREAM! ...then...ahhhhh...melted butter and salt.

Just yesterday my daughter proudly proclaimed that I was an Inventor because I had just baked muffins out of nothing. While every mother longs to hear that she has been endowed with the honor of just having invented something profitable to the human race, it left no smirk of pride on my face. While it is true that a "Muffin Recipe" is merely a formality to which I owe no debt, I did not feel the same sense of accomplishment that she did. Where has my sense of awe gone?

So today, my friends, with a fresh squeeze of lime in my eye, I am taking back my awe.

Join me in support of a freshly composted Campaign for Apprehending your Imagination to Recognize the Inventor you have Wrongfully Brushed Aside.

I...Am an Inventor. Yesterday, I took some flour and agave syrup and berries, and made magic with them.

My daughter is an Inventor. Within hours proceeding my invention, she invented the first hand-stitched, twist-tie purse made of rags, string, and colored with markers. Brown on one side, yellow on the other...so that you can change it depending on your mood. (There is even a hole for getting rid of those pesky pennies nobody wants.)

My son is an Inventor. As I write this, he is in the midst of inventing another language. It doesn't matter if you are a pirate or knight or princess; you can understand this language. But if you're regular, plain, and boring as white bread...you will be stung with the blank stare of disbelief.

I have a Friend who is an Inventor. He sees me as I am, but also as I should be. With Him I am encouraged to be myself without being afraid of what that looks like and whether it fits in or not...He invented
Love
Fire
Mercy
Flying
Rain
...and popcorn kinda pales in comparison.

A little tweet

As I go out in the evenings to water my garden, I can almost taste the bitter dust of drought as I see the birds sitting on my fence posts, pining...
wishing they were brave enough to
drink.
shower.
swim.
If they had tongues, I'm sure they would pant.

I don't have a bird bath
but I have pity
And with this pity
and my hose
I have chased away
many birds

But tonight was different
...I wasn't thinking about birds as I watered.
Nor was I thinking about my garden.
Nor water
nor wind
nor evaporation
I wasn't even moving back and forth to cover the ground evenly.
I was just standing there.

Briefly I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and then there suddenly was a hummingbird bathing in the spray of my dormant hose

This time I held still
on Purpose.

I felt honored that the little dude picked my hose to have a shower under. But it didn't last long.

This reminds me of a dream I had about an orange bird that came to visit me on the patio one night.
We became friends.
It was not afraid of me, and I was not cautious.
As the night wore on, I became very aware that I could not keep this little orange bird.
It did not belong to me
and the moment was brief.
It was a temporary blessing,
a fleeting glimpse of the colliding of two very different worlds ...one in which I knew little about.

The hummingbird
is a symbol for accomplishing that which seems impossible.

Connected

There is an unexplainable
connection
when someone just
gets "it"
with little explanation

sees the picture
understands the concept
feels the emotion

like-minded
close-hearted
familiar-spirited

friend.

Then there are the times
and places
and situations
and people
in which
you need to
explain
strain
exclaim
retain
ascertain
and
sustain
the connection

It is not always easy
You are not always understood
Not always pure
Not always sure

But the lesson
is always
valuable.

Discovering Life

I'm happy.

I want to swim in a puddle, cuz it's impossible.
I want go on a hot walk.
That's when I walk on hot sand and burn my feet a little.
I want to sing while I am whistling.
Because somebody has to be first.
I want to spend more money on Time.
I want to go behind the scenes and bring my spirinoculars.
(That's a combination of seeing in the spirit and seeing with binoculars.)
I want to squirt you with my kids' water gun.
And run.
I want to play dress up with Perspective.
And design my own costume.
I want to scribble.
I want to push the rules a bit.
Nudge.
Bump.
See if it's a real rule.
See if it's God's rule.
Or man's rule.
Perhaps that's why my kids do it too.)

Color Code, Arrange, Label, Shelve

My life is like my Pantry.

There is a certain order to things, but if you look hard enough, you could find Dust. Efficiency and Deficiency share a shelf on the left side at about eye level while the Blender and Coffeemaker cuddle on the lower shelf, peering from below with seditious eyes.

Clutter Flutter:

There's some stuff in there that I got on sale, that I still haven't tried.

There are some new seasonings I thought would make me a Capital C for Chef... but they didn't work, so now they're taking up space.

Imaginary Helpful Tips & Tricks:

There's a broom! I feel good. But I really need a Mop. So instead of mopping, I wipe with Paper Towel. But there are no paper towels in my Pantry. The Paper Towels are under the sink. (It made sense at the time.)

There's a stepping stool to see what's on the highest shelf, but no flashlight so I can see or acknowledge what's on the bottom in the corner.

The Metamorphosis Within:

The things I like, self-duplicate with little to no effort what-so-ever. I have full confidence that I will never run out of them. Like popcorn. And Raisen Bran.

There are things we need that I don't like, but I get because someone else likes them. These, too, go in the Pantry alongside the things of greater Value. These things I don't like, I run out of. Somehow I knew enough to get them the first time, but I fail to recognize when I'm lacking in them.

I cannot go on without mentioning that there is a very tiny spot for the things that I Really like. It's a tiny spot because it is also a Hiding Spot. I need to hide them for two reasons. 1. They have a special place in my heart. 2. They have a not-so-special place under my skin.

Inventory Shminventory:

Some things are in my Pantry, and I have no idea how they got in there.

Some things were supposed to be in there, and I have "no idea" how they went missing.

"Under Construction" :

Didn't I just fix that? Didn't I just move this? How did it get back over there?! The answer: It has a mind of its own. Moving. Switching. Removing. Ditching. Packaging and unpacking. Sometimes I take the detour around the Construction area because I'm on a schedule and have no time for this. Other times, I plow through without realizing that the speed fines double. Once or twice I would have benefited from procuring the required hard hat because the falling objects were bound to hit at least some part of me.

Attitude or Gratitude?:

One thing I know for sure is that my Pantry is a place I can't avoid. It's condition relies solely on my Disposition.

"My Pantry's not a place, it's an Attitude."

Yeah, yeah, yeah...I'll think about that next week.

So many different aspects of my life I can relate to what it is like to climb a mountain. It's such a vivid analogy to me right now, that I'm sure I could even equate eating breakfast in the morning to it. But, for this moment, I would like to talk about how drawing nearer to God is like climbing a mountain.

Starting out. I can see the bottom. It's where I'm at. The very bottom. Everybody's ahead of me, nobody's behind me. When I look up, I'm not even sure I can see the top...I just know that it must be up there somewhere. Must be in the fog. Yeah, that's why I can't see it.

If I already know I can't make it to the top in one day, then why should I even bother starting today? I don't have enough energy. Snooze. I'm not good enough at climbing. Excuse. I'll need to get new shoes first. Ruse. I could most likely probably be somewhat just as happy looking at the pictures. Reduce.

Somehow something inside of me starts the "one-two" and I begin the hike. A breeze blows, and I realize this could be kind of nice. I smell the fresh scent of a place I haven't been in a long, long time. Seduce. Why did I think this would be so much work again? News.

After a while, I'm gaining momentum, but decide to take a break. My muscles stiffen up and begin to feel sore. Bruise. I look around me to see if anyone can see I've taken a break. No one is around. That fresh scent of trees that was once so refreshing is now closing in around me and I realize I'm all alone. I didn't realize I would be the only one climbing. I thought I could see so many people ahead of me. Now I see no one. Recloose. Am I willing to do this if no one goes with me?

The break really wasn't a break at all. It made my head spin. Confuse. It was better when I didn't have so much to think about. Where am I going? Which direction is it? And how am I going to get there? Out of the corner of my eye I catch a vision of a stream, so I walk over to absorb its beauty. Instead, I find my feet sinking into the earth as I get closer. I quickly realize that the closer I get, the more I will sink. I reach out my hands and wash them. The water is frigid. It wakes me up from the outside in. I tremble.

I shake. I cast off my baggage. In a moment of clarity, I don't want it weighing me down anymore. I let go. I feel lighter, and energy surges from a place inside me and my legs become stronger. Infuse. I stop looking around and press in for more upward hiking.

Higher.

About halfway up I run out of words. My thoughts become simplified because I am getting short of breath and need to focus on the most important ones. The air is also getting thinner. The distractions begin to fade as each step takes me higher. I am suddenly determined. Suddenly able to focus. Pushing forward. Breathe. No stopping. No going back. I refuse.

With the determination the pain comes back for an encore as if to make sure that I'm really sure this time. It came suddenly out of the dark, out of nowhere. I am blindsided. Abuse. Noose. I stop to analyze and realize I am not alone. I can feel a heaviness like a thick fog around me. It gets closer and quieter and surrounds me in its mist. In the stillness. I rest. Truce.

Break loose. When the fog is gone, I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of the view. I see it but for a moment and then it's gone. Back to the climb I make my face like a flint. The trees begin to diffuse during the last few miles, and I begin to see the footprints as the path narrows...impressions made from the feet of those who have gone before me. They have left messages written in the dirt:

"It's going to be worth it."

Tears light my cheeks like a. Fuse. I press in knowing that I am not alone. My faith increases like the light above me. I'm almost there. Anticipation. Life. Joy.

Produce.

When I get to the top, I realize quickly that I cannot see through the light with my eyes. Surprise. I close them and open the eyes of my heart. An exchange is being made. Beauty for ashes. Joy for sorrow. A garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. There's a fullness that cannot be contained and I find myself laughing and weeping and singing...right at His feet. I don't want to leave.

an offering--
I bring.

my broken pieces
to the king

I am heard
seen.

A flower
in the
spring

I cling.

"Who may ascend the hill of the LORD ?
Who may stand in his holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
who does not lift up his soul to an idol
or swear by what is false.
He will receive blessing from the LORD
and vindication from God his Savior.
Such is the generation of those who seek him,
who seek your face, O God of Jacob."
(Psalm 24:3-6)

JUMP. (and don't look down...)

"I trust God"
is really quite easy to say.
But NOT so easy to do.

Practically speaking...it's easy to say anything. Because saying something doesn't require acting upon it when you're not being honest with yourself. If you wish to stay in the comfortable appearance of "trusting God" without fully committing to what that means, then stop reading here.
(Come back when you mean it.)

I'd like to suggest that "trusting" God is not a state of mind, but rather it is an act of the will. Your will. My will.

After all, how can we truly trust someone, without the "leap" over the edge of your "presumed" security (I say "presumed" because all the security we can provide for ourselves is)?

Who told us that trusting God would be EASY and why have we believed that there is something wrong when it isn't easy? I'd like to suggest that there is something wrong when you are comfortable in your "trust." I'd like to suggest that trust is not comfortable until you are fully not reliant on yourself.

Yeah, yeah, I trust You God...
But don't ask me to do that.
And don't ask me to say that.
And don't ask me to go there.
Or deal with this.
Because I am not prepared for Your plans.
And I'm too weak to face the outcome if it turns out to be difficult.
Or scary.
Or causes change in my life.
I don't really like change, God. You know that.
I trust You to make my choices transform into the best You have for me.
And I trust You to do things my way.
And, you know I can trust You to let me control You.

Is that even close to trust? Let's be honest. You either trust Him or you don't. There's no middle ground here. God wants everything. everything.

"But I just can't. I'm just too weak to trust in God."

Who said you had to be strong in order to trust in someOne else? It's only when you are weak and needy that you can draw from His stability. He's the only One who knows what is best for you. No, you can't see it all the time. You wouldn't have to trust Him if you could see what is coming in the next month.

What this means for me personally is that I choose to take each thing that comes at me as though it were directed by the hand of God. After all, if He's not surprised by it, then why should I be? What I choose to do is seek Him in it. See what He's saying, what He's doing, and seek how I can grow and change and lean more fully on His Reputation.

"I know your deeds;

you have a reputation of being alive,

but you are dead."

(Rev. 3:1)

Let's stand up and stir ourselves up. Strengthen what little remains. I pray that your faith would be increased and your confidence would be set in Him. His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

Sometimes our own burdens feel strangely "good" because they are familiar and we can convince ourselves that we "deserve" them. But the Bible says that the TRUTH will set you free.

How free are you?

When you trust the One who created the wind to carry you, you will fly. He has amazing things planned for you this year. Hold fast.