When my childhood dog died, what I remembered the very most about him, was how good he was. If I had followed his example in any one way – his goodness, his love, his ability to forgive – I would be so much of a better person. Years later, I got a dog of my own and had to come up with a name. Malachi means “messenger of God”. Not only was it a kind of fun, funky name for a fun, funky little dog, but it would always remind me of the lessons I’d learned from my first dog.
Malachi is almost two years old, so recently we decided it was time to see how he’d do outside his crate for a whole night. The experience made me think of me and God. In other words, my dog, was an example to me of how I should be with God.
I didn’t sleep well that night, acutely aware of the 15lbs of dead weight in the middle of my bed. Malachi was curled up tightly against my stomach or my butt or my side. Whatever piece of real estate he had access to, that’s where he was glued. But whenever I would move, he would leap to attention still half asleep, but ready for whatever I wanted him to do. He slept hard all night and when the morning came and he was ready to get up, he was persistent and wouldn’t leave me alone – but he didn’t get off the bed until I said, “ok, let’s get up…”
David Berkowitz said his dog talked to him and that’s why he killed his victims. So let’s just be clear here, Malachi isn’t talking to me, ok? I mean, I’m not that weird. But stick with me for a sec, while I explain myself…
Malachi stayed connected to me even while he was asleep. He changed positions, from his initial spot under my chin, but he never lost contact. He never went off on his own – he always maintained a connection with his master (James 4:8). Whenever I moved, he was up and ready – whenever he thought I wanted him to do something, he was ready for it. He didn’t know what it was that I needed or might need, and he was sort of in the middle of something, being asleep and all…but regardless, his master might be wanting him and so he was ready (Matthew 24:44). When Malachi was ready for a change, he didn’t do anything without my ok. He was diligently communicating anyway he was able to. He communicated with his master without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17).
So, there it is. Just a little reminder that I got recently, about how to live out my Christian walk…from my dog. I suppose he’s really living up to his name! :)
Love y'all!
~M~
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Happy Birthday, Jesus
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?
Mary did you know…
The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.
...Originally written by Mark Lowry and Buddy Greene...
I Found God in a Viral Video
I read a blog recently that I really liked. The author made a pointed effort to see God in everyday places. In 2010, I will read the entire Bible. I’m sure it will be an experience and I’m confident it will create more God sightings in my everyday life… a spiritual “Where’s Waldo?” of seek & find, if you will.
2009 has been an awesome year for me. Not awesome as in “totally rad” but awesome as in “showing or characterized by awe”. This year has been a journey. Some days I’ve felt wholly alone. Other days, I could clearly see God at work. But every day has been a journey forward.
When I watched this corny little video, the first thing I noticed was the song. A song that described my failed efforts. 2008 was a year I experienced an intense love, intense loneliness and a great valley season in my life. 2009 was a year that I healed from those things. The song was descriptive and upbeat…and funny. T talked about make effort after effort and failing. I liked that the song made me smile, when usually songs about struggle are usually sad.
As I listened to the song, I started watching the video…a squirrel trying to get to over a hurdle. But the squirrel was small and the hurdle was so large. I’ve felt that way before. When I was healing from love, or when I move to a new place. When I try to make changes in my life that will improve myself or my circumstances. God tries to help. He shows me again and again how to do it. He meets me where I’m at, and shows me that it can be done. But I’m afraid. I’m too small. I need a lot of help. Someone came into the video and left a backpack for the little squirrel. The little squirrel resisted at first but, then, came back and tried it. It didn’t work, it was a false start.
Then another opportunity comes along. God comes with me up to the hurdle and then he goes ahead, “You can do it – come to me!” and I have to figure out how to make it work. This time something is different and I make it. I have figured out how to make it over the hurdle and God and I are off to new adventures and challenges. But even though I’ve conquered the hurdle and it’s behind me now, I know that I might not have made it over the hurdle at all without the help of people around me who are watching and who care.
There are several concrete walls in my life that I’m in the process of scaling and I’m sure that in 2010 I’m going to make it. “You can do it – come to me!” God is saying. And with the help of those around me, I will! :)
Love y’all!
~M~
2009 has been an awesome year for me. Not awesome as in “totally rad” but awesome as in “showing or characterized by awe”. This year has been a journey. Some days I’ve felt wholly alone. Other days, I could clearly see God at work. But every day has been a journey forward.
When I watched this corny little video, the first thing I noticed was the song. A song that described my failed efforts. 2008 was a year I experienced an intense love, intense loneliness and a great valley season in my life. 2009 was a year that I healed from those things. The song was descriptive and upbeat…and funny. T talked about make effort after effort and failing. I liked that the song made me smile, when usually songs about struggle are usually sad.
As I listened to the song, I started watching the video…a squirrel trying to get to over a hurdle. But the squirrel was small and the hurdle was so large. I’ve felt that way before. When I was healing from love, or when I move to a new place. When I try to make changes in my life that will improve myself or my circumstances. God tries to help. He shows me again and again how to do it. He meets me where I’m at, and shows me that it can be done. But I’m afraid. I’m too small. I need a lot of help. Someone came into the video and left a backpack for the little squirrel. The little squirrel resisted at first but, then, came back and tried it. It didn’t work, it was a false start.
Then another opportunity comes along. God comes with me up to the hurdle and then he goes ahead, “You can do it – come to me!” and I have to figure out how to make it work. This time something is different and I make it. I have figured out how to make it over the hurdle and God and I are off to new adventures and challenges. But even though I’ve conquered the hurdle and it’s behind me now, I know that I might not have made it over the hurdle at all without the help of people around me who are watching and who care.
There are several concrete walls in my life that I’m in the process of scaling and I’m sure that in 2010 I’m going to make it. “You can do it – come to me!” God is saying. And with the help of those around me, I will! :)
Love y’all!
~M~
Saturday, December 19, 2009
I am Ready
...to put God first
...to begin a new routine
...to move (again)
...to honor my boundaries with my family
...to run (literally, not figuratively)
...to see Maryland with healed eyes
...to build a community in one place
...for another year of adventure
...to read the whole Bible in a year...the same year, lol...
...to make new friends, enjoy the old ones and love love love!
"Don't you know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize!"
1 Corinthians 9:24
I AM READY!
Love y'all,
~M~
...to begin a new routine
...to move (again)
...to honor my boundaries with my family
...to run (literally, not figuratively)
...to see Maryland with healed eyes
...to build a community in one place
...for another year of adventure
...to read the whole Bible in a year...the same year, lol...
...to make new friends, enjoy the old ones and love love love!
"Don't you know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize!"
1 Corinthians 9:24
I AM READY!
Love y'all,
~M~
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Use Me
It’s been a busy couple of weeks. I’ve wanted to write, but it’s felt like my senses are on overload. God has been showing me so many things. I’ve been so aware lately of the people God uses and how he uses them.
Exhibit A: Matthew chapter 1 – the lineage of Jesus. I heard a speaker at Women of Faith speak on this chapter. Her point was that Jesus, by nature shook up the status quo. Evidence of that is seen in Matthew 1, where women are acknowledged at all in Jesus’ lineage, since it is (or maybe was, I’m not sure) Jewish custom to follow family lines by the male and not mention the females at all.
So, we have an attention grabber just by the simple fact Matthew identified four women in the first five verses. But what’s more – is who these women are. Rahab was a hooker. Before she joined the Jewish people, Rahab hid Israelite spies in her home as they prepared to invade her city. Once she joined the Jewish people, she married Salmon (yes, Salmon, I read it twice too) and together they had Boaz. Boaz married Ruth. We all know and love Ruth. Her story is the story of dedication. Her story is where my favorite marriage verse is found...
Ruth’s great grandson, was King David. David had a relationship with Bathsheba, who was married at the time to Uriah. Together, David and Bathsheba had Solomon…and 24 generations later came Joseph – husband to Mary, mother of Jesus.
Exhibit B: In Community Bible Study, we’re reading the book of Acts. This week, we learned more about the city of Antioch (Acts 11: 19 – 12:25), among other things. With a population of approximately a half million people, Antioch was the third largest city in the Roman Empire. It was also known for being the most crooked and corrupt city in the Empire. It was 300 miles north of Jerusalem and near enough to Tarsus that Paul was referred to by his pre-Christian name, Saul. It was in this city that we – Christians – first got our name. Prior to the Gospel reaching Antioch, Christians as a group were nameless. But the pagan believers in that city labeled Christians by the God they worshiped. Pagans provided the name we identify with our faith some 2000 years later!
So lately it’s been kind of hard for me to feel unworthy of being used by God. He uses prostitutes and He uses people from the wrong “class”. He uses entire cities known for sinfulness, for crying out loud. He can certainly use me.
It’s kind of a scary thought! :)
Love y'all,
~M~
Exhibit A: Matthew chapter 1 – the lineage of Jesus. I heard a speaker at Women of Faith speak on this chapter. Her point was that Jesus, by nature shook up the status quo. Evidence of that is seen in Matthew 1, where women are acknowledged at all in Jesus’ lineage, since it is (or maybe was, I’m not sure) Jewish custom to follow family lines by the male and not mention the females at all.
So, we have an attention grabber just by the simple fact Matthew identified four women in the first five verses. But what’s more – is who these women are. Rahab was a hooker. Before she joined the Jewish people, Rahab hid Israelite spies in her home as they prepared to invade her city. Once she joined the Jewish people, she married Salmon (yes, Salmon, I read it twice too) and together they had Boaz. Boaz married Ruth. We all know and love Ruth. Her story is the story of dedication. Her story is where my favorite marriage verse is found...
“But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the LORD deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me.”” – Ruth 1: 16-17But Ruth, was a Moabite. That means little to nothing to us now…but back in the day, when Matthew was recounting Jesus’ family tree, the audience would have recognized this fact. Moab was the son born to Lot and his eldest daughter when, after fleeing God’s destruction of Sodom and believing they were the only people left she seduced him. The Moabites were a people who came from an act of incest and Matthew’s audience knew this.
Ruth’s great grandson, was King David. David had a relationship with Bathsheba, who was married at the time to Uriah. Together, David and Bathsheba had Solomon…and 24 generations later came Joseph – husband to Mary, mother of Jesus.
Exhibit B: In Community Bible Study, we’re reading the book of Acts. This week, we learned more about the city of Antioch (Acts 11: 19 – 12:25), among other things. With a population of approximately a half million people, Antioch was the third largest city in the Roman Empire. It was also known for being the most crooked and corrupt city in the Empire. It was 300 miles north of Jerusalem and near enough to Tarsus that Paul was referred to by his pre-Christian name, Saul. It was in this city that we – Christians – first got our name. Prior to the Gospel reaching Antioch, Christians as a group were nameless. But the pagan believers in that city labeled Christians by the God they worshiped. Pagans provided the name we identify with our faith some 2000 years later!
So lately it’s been kind of hard for me to feel unworthy of being used by God. He uses prostitutes and He uses people from the wrong “class”. He uses entire cities known for sinfulness, for crying out loud. He can certainly use me.
It’s kind of a scary thought! :)
Love y'all,
~M~
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Walk with a Limp
Almost two years ago, my grandmother slipped on some stairs and broke her hip. She bravely underwent a total hip replacement and then diligently worked in numerous physical therapy sessions to regain use of the broken part. Last year, when I was home for Christmas, I could tell my Gramma had a little hitch in her “giddy up” and she always had her cane in hand. It made her feel safer, she said, when lots of people where around. This year, I was home again – this time in August. Gramma’s cane was often forgotten in a different room, there was a barely noticeable limp and the only time she really reported trouble with the hip, was if she slept on it at night.
Forgiveness is such a difficult thing. Even when your brain understands all the details and you want to forgive - your heart can still be like my Gramma’s hip. Sensitive. Touchy. Injured. Consistently since I rededicated my life to Christ almost three months ago, I’ve earnestly sought God and tried multiple times to find forgiveness for this person, who hurt me so deeply. Like my Gramma’s physical therapy, it’s been painful and difficult. There were (and are) times when I’ve wondered if it was working or worth it and times I’ve wanted to give up completely. But just like my Gramma, every day was a new day to get better. I clung to God the way she clung to her physical therapists. Believing Him, when He encouraged me to take another step – to try again. Like Gramma, I knew this would be for the best and I would be glad someday…some distant, unidentifiable day in the future (lol).
Love y'all,
~M~
In the last month or so, I’ve really felt led to make peace with someone I thought I was done with – for good. It was a gradual feeling that would come to the surface and lodge there for several days, until I was able to convince myself it was my imagination and stuff the feeling back down…only to have it resurface a day or two later. We’d tried a couple of times before, but for various reasons, true peace was not a result of those efforts. Finally I reached out again and was curious and relieved when he reached back. When I think of peace, things certainly aren’t how I would’ve imagined them to be with this person. But I know they’re how they should be, because I feel different.
For me, with understanding came forgiveness. A moment came, when I could clearly see the place this person is currently in and I could understand the associated behaviors that have impacted my heart in such ways. I was surprised to realize that I didn’t feel anger, but…compassion. Selfless compassion. And with that, came peace without expectations.
Forgiveness is such a difficult thing. Even when your brain understands all the details and you want to forgive - your heart can still be like my Gramma’s hip. Sensitive. Touchy. Injured. Consistently since I rededicated my life to Christ almost three months ago, I’ve earnestly sought God and tried multiple times to find forgiveness for this person, who hurt me so deeply. Like my Gramma’s physical therapy, it’s been painful and difficult. There were (and are) times when I’ve wondered if it was working or worth it and times I’ve wanted to give up completely. But just like my Gramma, every day was a new day to get better. I clung to God the way she clung to her physical therapists. Believing Him, when He encouraged me to take another step – to try again. Like Gramma, I knew this would be for the best and I would be glad someday…some distant, unidentifiable day in the future (lol).My Gramma was protective of her hip as it healed and I’m trying to be more protective of my heart now. We both know our limitations – and what to lean on – as we mend. I’m cautious not to forget my crutch – especially with this person. But I’m feeling safer and less vulnerable when other people are around. There’s still a slight hitch in my giddy up and if I put too much pressure on that part of my life or how I relate to that person, pain will still flair. Overall, though, I’m learning that healing completely isn’t a prerequisite to forgiveness (which also means it's probably time to apply these lessons to other people in my life who might need some forgiveness...grrr...). Through understanding and forgiveness I’m healing up well. Better able, everyday, to use my broken part…and some days, I hardly notice that I still walk with a little limp. ;)
Love y'all,
~M~
Sunday, November 29, 2009
First in My Heart
I’ve been struggling a little. I think it started with a busy schedule that took me out of town for nine days out of the last two weeks. I’m sure there was also stress coming from the holiday season itself and the impending family relationships and dynamics. Tonight I returned from visiting family in the San Francisco area.
Although I’m relieved that the visit went well, I’m also aware of feeling more distant from God. I’m realizing that in my business and anxiety, I probably pulled away from God. When times got hard, I instinctively and unconsciously behaved as though I could handle things on my own. So I’m also starting this week aware that I have another out of town trip in a few days – but also the awareness that I need to make time to be with my Father.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:10
“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6
“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." John 8:32
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28
“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1
Although I’m relieved that the visit went well, I’m also aware of feeling more distant from God. I’m realizing that in my business and anxiety, I probably pulled away from God. When times got hard, I instinctively and unconsciously behaved as though I could handle things on my own. So I’m also starting this week aware that I have another out of town trip in a few days – but also the awareness that I need to make time to be with my Father.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:10
“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6
“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." John 8:32
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28
“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I Know it was the Blood
One day when I was lost, He died upon the cross...classic Mahalia Jackson - I ♥ it!
~M~
~M~
The Best Path through Life, is the Highway
Last week while I was in San Antonio, I met a guy from DC in the training class I was attending. We went to dinner and a movie and then lunch together the next day. Conversation flowed fairly easily and part way through dinner, we discovered we were both Christians. For the remainder of the training week, we kept each other company in class by texting about our classmates and events in class and on the last day, we agreed we’d keep in touch and maybe get to hang out again one day.
Also last week (and for possibly the millionth time), I watched part of my all time favorite romance movie ever – Love Story. I love this movie, with preppy Oliver and feisty Jennifer – this time, though, I watched it with an anxious ache in my stomach. It reminded me too much of the somewhat recent demise if my own amazing love story. It’s been almost a year now, since we’ve been together and I still think about him all the time. The strength it takes me every day to resist contacting him, is not my own and experiencing it, is all I need to believe in miracles.
Two months ago, with great trepidation, I gave my Oliver – as well as my entire love life – to God. I knew He was asking me to put the whole subject at His feet and then leave it there. It was honestly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. First, it was terrifying because of my deepest fear that I’ll end up a single spinster like many of the women in my family have. Second, the idea of giving up males and love and dating was a hard one, because of the caveat to leave it with God. Anyone who knows me, knows my hobby is the male persuasion and in the words of a new coworker recently, “…you can give up men, but they will never give up you.” I wasn’t confident if I gave my love life to God, that I would be strong enough to resist opportunities to take it back.
I still think about my Oliver every day. And I have to remind myself almost every day that God has my love life now and He will take good care of it. Giving up control of that part of my life was and is hard. It’s not a blissful ride, occasionally I get panicky or resentful. It annoys me that I have to sit behind not one, but two canoodling couples on my flight from San Antonio to LA. I mean, come on!! But still, I know He’ll take good care of me. Since giving my love life to Him, I’ve met two new men…and both are Christians. That’s a big deal to me because in 16 years as a Christian, I’ve met and dated exactly...one fellow believer. So it feels like a sign on the interstate telling me I’m not there yet, but I’m headed in the right direction.
I haven’t given up on my Oliver completely and I haven’t been able to get clarity on if giving him up is even something I should do. So in the meantime, I pray and I focus on myself and my walk with God…and until He tells me different, I hope. But while I hope, I’m also more acutely aware that when God is in the driver's seat, I don't have to know where I'm going, I can just sit back and read the signs.
Love Story is my favorite romantic movie ever…I know the story, I’ve seen the “signs”…but I’ve never actually seen the end. That’s fitting, I think.
Love y’all,
~M~
Also last week (and for possibly the millionth time), I watched part of my all time favorite romance movie ever – Love Story. I love this movie, with preppy Oliver and feisty Jennifer – this time, though, I watched it with an anxious ache in my stomach. It reminded me too much of the somewhat recent demise if my own amazing love story. It’s been almost a year now, since we’ve been together and I still think about him all the time. The strength it takes me every day to resist contacting him, is not my own and experiencing it, is all I need to believe in miracles.
Two months ago, with great trepidation, I gave my Oliver – as well as my entire love life – to God. I knew He was asking me to put the whole subject at His feet and then leave it there. It was honestly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. First, it was terrifying because of my deepest fear that I’ll end up a single spinster like many of the women in my family have. Second, the idea of giving up males and love and dating was a hard one, because of the caveat to leave it with God. Anyone who knows me, knows my hobby is the male persuasion and in the words of a new coworker recently, “…you can give up men, but they will never give up you.” I wasn’t confident if I gave my love life to God, that I would be strong enough to resist opportunities to take it back.
I still think about my Oliver every day. And I have to remind myself almost every day that God has my love life now and He will take good care of it. Giving up control of that part of my life was and is hard. It’s not a blissful ride, occasionally I get panicky or resentful. It annoys me that I have to sit behind not one, but two canoodling couples on my flight from San Antonio to LA. I mean, come on!! But still, I know He’ll take good care of me. Since giving my love life to Him, I’ve met two new men…and both are Christians. That’s a big deal to me because in 16 years as a Christian, I’ve met and dated exactly...one fellow believer. So it feels like a sign on the interstate telling me I’m not there yet, but I’m headed in the right direction.
I haven’t given up on my Oliver completely and I haven’t been able to get clarity on if giving him up is even something I should do. So in the meantime, I pray and I focus on myself and my walk with God…and until He tells me different, I hope. But while I hope, I’m also more acutely aware that when God is in the driver's seat, I don't have to know where I'm going, I can just sit back and read the signs.
Love Story is my favorite romantic movie ever…I know the story, I’ve seen the “signs”…but I’ve never actually seen the end. That’s fitting, I think.
Love y’all,
~M~
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Who am I...?
Hi y'all, I have a lot to say, but this week has been pretty busy traveling to San Antonio for work. I'd anticipated quiet nights holed up in a hotel room, but so far, that hasn't happened and doesn't look like it's going to.
So for now, I'll post this...created by a beautiful, inspiring, phenomenal Delta I know in DC. Love you Jacqui!
...enjoy...
"Who am I?
I’m a well oiled machine, smoothed out with exotic polishes, buffed to perfection by heartache and sunshine.
I’m a diamond without the rough, singed with the pain that has shaped me, freed by His blood, my sweat and a combination of tears.
I’m history in the making, whose story will be sweet although outlined with peaks and tainted by valleys.
I’m like a full moon lowering in the horizon. I touch mountain tops, skim seas and light darkened paths.
I’m heavy with creativity and light with burden. I curse obligation and guilt but oblige independence and beauty.
So for now, I'll post this...created by a beautiful, inspiring, phenomenal Delta I know in DC. Love you Jacqui!
...enjoy...
"Who am I?
I’m a well oiled machine, smoothed out with exotic polishes, buffed to perfection by heartache and sunshine.
I’m a diamond without the rough, singed with the pain that has shaped me, freed by His blood, my sweat and a combination of tears.
I’m history in the making, whose story will be sweet although outlined with peaks and tainted by valleys.
I’m like a full moon lowering in the horizon. I touch mountain tops, skim seas and light darkened paths.
I’m heavy with creativity and light with burden. I curse obligation and guilt but oblige independence and beauty.
I’m a love waiting to be raptured; still enough to feel even the slightest motion, swift enough to catch a glimpse of destiny.
I’m as precious as the commodity time slipping through your fingertips with each wasteful decision, easily freed yet never retroactive.
I’m the essence of reckless beauty, refined by flaws and empowered beyond belief.
I’m the sand disappearing with each crash of the oceans wave; memories fade in and out with each current.
I am who I am. Parts will remain the same and the rest will expire with the exit of each season, transition as the caterpillar captivates its audience in a beautiful transformation to a butterfly.
I am HIS beautiful creation."
Love y'all,
~M~
~M~
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Speed Trap
The State of California sent me a letter last week. I suspected (correctly) it wasn’t a love letter. I have a whole routine for receiving bad news via the postal service. Even if it’s delivered to my home, I will not open it there and I never – ever – open bad news mail on Fridays or weekends. I finally grabbed my less-then-love letter off the microwave on the way to work one morning. It was a note from the capitol, reminding me that my driving privileges in this illustrious state are under threat. Well, I knew that already.
Everyone has told me I have one more strike after I received two speeding tickets in the same week when I first moved here. California appears to believe that if you get three speeding tickets, you do not know how to drive and therefore, deserve to have your license suspended. I prefer to think if you get speeding tickets (regardless of the number), it’s not because you don't know how to drive, but because your free spirit cannot be limited. But whatever.
I wasn’t on the highway ten minutes when I came up on a truck – in the slow lane – going really slow. Yeah, it was ridiculous, he was going like, sixty. Never so much as lifting my foot from the gas, I pulled into the next lane, passed the truck and then returned to my spot in the law-abiding-citizen-good-grief-this-takes-forever-to-get-to-work lane.
It was a busy day, full of meetings and challenges, needy employees and email plans for weddings and vacations and career choices with friends. Challenging coworkers, joking with coworkers and short fuse deadlines. Family needing my attention, appointments to be scheduled and errands to run during lunch. Eight hours later, it was finally time to go home. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I turned the radio off and just listened to the quiet. “I can hear you now.” I told God, “Let’s just go home, you and me. No music, no cell phone, no mental lists for tomorrow. Just you and me.” All the way home, while I chattered away to God (yeah, out loud, lol ;), I also kept reminding myself to at least stay in the general vicinity of 60 miles per hour. Or else.
It’s so easy to get going in life and then pretty soon, we don’t even know why we’re going so fast. There are warning signs – letters from the state, or maybe skipping our daily time in the Word a little too often – but we ignore them. If we’re not careful, if we ignore those warnings for too long, we’ll be left with larger issues. If my foot doesn’t hurry up and come off that gas pedal, I’m not going to have a license, or insurance to cover the car I won’t be able to drive anyway. If we pack our days so full of stuff that we can’t fit in quality time with God, we won’t have the close relationship with Him, that we’re busing fostering with everything else in this world. Sometimes in our daily lives, we have to remind ourselves to take our foot (foots? ;) off the pedal and just slow down.
Love y'all,
~M~
Everyone has told me I have one more strike after I received two speeding tickets in the same week when I first moved here. California appears to believe that if you get three speeding tickets, you do not know how to drive and therefore, deserve to have your license suspended. I prefer to think if you get speeding tickets (regardless of the number), it’s not because you don't know how to drive, but because your free spirit cannot be limited. But whatever.
I wasn’t on the highway ten minutes when I came up on a truck – in the slow lane – going really slow. Yeah, it was ridiculous, he was going like, sixty. Never so much as lifting my foot from the gas, I pulled into the next lane, passed the truck and then returned to my spot in the law-abiding-citizen-good-grief-this-takes-forever-to-get-to-work lane.
It was a busy day, full of meetings and challenges, needy employees and email plans for weddings and vacations and career choices with friends. Challenging coworkers, joking with coworkers and short fuse deadlines. Family needing my attention, appointments to be scheduled and errands to run during lunch. Eight hours later, it was finally time to go home. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I turned the radio off and just listened to the quiet. “I can hear you now.” I told God, “Let’s just go home, you and me. No music, no cell phone, no mental lists for tomorrow. Just you and me.” All the way home, while I chattered away to God (yeah, out loud, lol ;), I also kept reminding myself to at least stay in the general vicinity of 60 miles per hour. Or else.
It’s so easy to get going in life and then pretty soon, we don’t even know why we’re going so fast. There are warning signs – letters from the state, or maybe skipping our daily time in the Word a little too often – but we ignore them. If we’re not careful, if we ignore those warnings for too long, we’ll be left with larger issues. If my foot doesn’t hurry up and come off that gas pedal, I’m not going to have a license, or insurance to cover the car I won’t be able to drive anyway. If we pack our days so full of stuff that we can’t fit in quality time with God, we won’t have the close relationship with Him, that we’re busing fostering with everything else in this world. Sometimes in our daily lives, we have to remind ourselves to take our foot (foots? ;) off the pedal and just slow down.
Love y'all,
~M~
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Still Waters
I want to go back to DC.
When I moved here, I was ready to make California my home. I would marry here, raise a family here, retire here. I practiced my hair flip and fitting “like” into a sentence 12 times…I was Californian to the core. People told me to give it five months before letting the homesick feelings freak me out. They said it would take about that long to feel comfortable in a place, regardless of how much I want to be there. So when the slower pace and slower lifestyle and the alarming resemblance to my hometown made me miss DC, I waited. And waited.
…and waited.
I want to go back to DC. I want to go back to DC as soon as possible. During down times at work, I surf USAjobs for announcements I would qualify for and I peruse the internet for condos in Virginia, that are in my price range. I was just starting to adjust, when I left DC. I’d gotten plugged into an amazing church and I had a job that took me into Virginia everyday and reminded me of all the reasons why I first fell in love with the area. Since leaving, I’ve struggling with the lingering question, “Did I leave DC too soon?”
The truth is…I don’t really know. Maybe I did. Maybe there were great things God had planned for me to help Him with, in the Metro DC area. But everything happens for a reason – a believer in an Almighty God, wouldn’t believe that something as random as chance brought me here. Every aspect of moving to California fell into place too perfectly to deny that it was masterminded by Someone greater than me. Moving to California has allowed me to catch my breath. And it’s allowed me to leave the temptation of the lifestyle I’d begun living, behind me and rededicate my life to Christ. Moving to California has been like a fresh start. I left behind two years of sinking into the waves, because I’d taken my eyes off Christ.
I’ve been here for almost six months already and I feel refreshed, reinvigorated and raring to go. I have to constantly (and I do mean constantly) remind myself that I need this time, I’m not strong enough yet and that my timing is not God’s timing. I have to remember to let God do his work in my life and in my heart. God has brought me to this place to rest in Him and I am too busy looking forward to getting back in the game to actually enjoy it!
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul, He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” ~Psalm 23: 1-3
I hope (daily, actually) that God will return me to the Metro DC area. I believe I’ll be at my best and be of real use to Him there. In the meantime, though, I want to remember that God is making me lie down and restore my soul. He’s led me to still waters…I don’t want Him to shake His head, chuckle and say, “I can lead a horse to water, but I can’t make her drink!” :]
Love y’all,
~M~
When I moved here, I was ready to make California my home. I would marry here, raise a family here, retire here. I practiced my hair flip and fitting “like” into a sentence 12 times…I was Californian to the core. People told me to give it five months before letting the homesick feelings freak me out. They said it would take about that long to feel comfortable in a place, regardless of how much I want to be there. So when the slower pace and slower lifestyle and the alarming resemblance to my hometown made me miss DC, I waited. And waited.
…and waited.
I want to go back to DC. I want to go back to DC as soon as possible. During down times at work, I surf USAjobs for announcements I would qualify for and I peruse the internet for condos in Virginia, that are in my price range. I was just starting to adjust, when I left DC. I’d gotten plugged into an amazing church and I had a job that took me into Virginia everyday and reminded me of all the reasons why I first fell in love with the area. Since leaving, I’ve struggling with the lingering question, “Did I leave DC too soon?”
The truth is…I don’t really know. Maybe I did. Maybe there were great things God had planned for me to help Him with, in the Metro DC area. But everything happens for a reason – a believer in an Almighty God, wouldn’t believe that something as random as chance brought me here. Every aspect of moving to California fell into place too perfectly to deny that it was masterminded by Someone greater than me. Moving to California has allowed me to catch my breath. And it’s allowed me to leave the temptation of the lifestyle I’d begun living, behind me and rededicate my life to Christ. Moving to California has been like a fresh start. I left behind two years of sinking into the waves, because I’d taken my eyes off Christ.
I’ve been here for almost six months already and I feel refreshed, reinvigorated and raring to go. I have to constantly (and I do mean constantly) remind myself that I need this time, I’m not strong enough yet and that my timing is not God’s timing. I have to remember to let God do his work in my life and in my heart. God has brought me to this place to rest in Him and I am too busy looking forward to getting back in the game to actually enjoy it!
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul, He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” ~Psalm 23: 1-3
I hope (daily, actually) that God will return me to the Metro DC area. I believe I’ll be at my best and be of real use to Him there. In the meantime, though, I want to remember that God is making me lie down and restore my soul. He’s led me to still waters…I don’t want Him to shake His head, chuckle and say, “I can lead a horse to water, but I can’t make her drink!” :]
Love y’all,
~M~
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Cross-stitch Chaos
Sometimes in life, things happen and I’m just not sure why.
I shouldn’t have done it, but I called my mother today. It had been a couple of weeks, and I just wanted to talk to my mom. The conversation lasted exactly 7 minutes, 7 seconds. That was just long enough for my mother to tell me that she and my aunt are leaving on Friday to come down to Palm Springs for a week (but not see me while they’re here - which is why i moved west in the first place, to be nearer to her). She told me she hasn’t cashed the last four checks I’ve sent her (one a month) because she hasn’t gotten around to going to the bank. She said she’s bringing her cell phone with her to Palm Springs so that she can call my Gramma every day (but won’t talk to me for months at a time). What she didn’t mention is the trip to visit me in four weeks that she’s been talking about for months, but has taken zero action on.
I know my mother is sick, but it still hurts to not have a mom. It hurts to suspect that she’s only there for me in emergencies, because she knows she’s not there any other time. My mom can love me conditionally. She can love me when I’m right there – practically under her – ready to be loved when she wants to give it. But if I want to live my life…well, then, I’m out of sight out of mind.
My father hasn’t had a conversation with me since Father’s day, when he texted, just like last year. Texting provides me the opportunity to wish him a happy Father’s Day and him the opportunity to make comments designed to make me feel guilty for his absentee-ism my entire life. When I’m not getting text message guilt trips, I can rely on what I call “text spam” from him. Forwarded images of glittery hearts, or corny jokes. But never anything direct or of substance.
I, am an orphan.
I’ve been telling myself all day that there are reasons for this abandoned feeling I struggle with. I know God intends to use this for His glory. He planned everything about me and about my life. He placed every freckle I have exactly where it’s at. He made my hair curl and He put that “dimple” on my butt. He made my father black and my mother white on purpose and he made me an only child for a reason. I know all these things as fact. But what I don’t know, is why He made my mother sick and my father absent so that I would be all alone.
Years ago, someone used a cross stitch design to illustrate to me our lives with Christ. The front was a cute little design, with neat, tight stitches. “This is what God sees when He looks at our lives.” She’d said, “Every stitch in that exact place, for a reason. One stitch alone seems unimportant, but together they make something beautiful. Any one thing about our lives might seem random by itself, but it’s meant to come together for a reason.” Then she turned over the little piece of fabric, to reveal the chaos of thread crisscrossing and knotted and overlapping, tangled together, making altogether no sense…“meanwhile, this is what we see.” She said and laughed.
Love y’all,
~M~
I shouldn’t have done it, but I called my mother today. It had been a couple of weeks, and I just wanted to talk to my mom. The conversation lasted exactly 7 minutes, 7 seconds. That was just long enough for my mother to tell me that she and my aunt are leaving on Friday to come down to Palm Springs for a week (but not see me while they’re here - which is why i moved west in the first place, to be nearer to her). She told me she hasn’t cashed the last four checks I’ve sent her (one a month) because she hasn’t gotten around to going to the bank. She said she’s bringing her cell phone with her to Palm Springs so that she can call my Gramma every day (but won’t talk to me for months at a time). What she didn’t mention is the trip to visit me in four weeks that she’s been talking about for months, but has taken zero action on.
I know my mother is sick, but it still hurts to not have a mom. It hurts to suspect that she’s only there for me in emergencies, because she knows she’s not there any other time. My mom can love me conditionally. She can love me when I’m right there – practically under her – ready to be loved when she wants to give it. But if I want to live my life…well, then, I’m out of sight out of mind.
My father hasn’t had a conversation with me since Father’s day, when he texted, just like last year. Texting provides me the opportunity to wish him a happy Father’s Day and him the opportunity to make comments designed to make me feel guilty for his absentee-ism my entire life. When I’m not getting text message guilt trips, I can rely on what I call “text spam” from him. Forwarded images of glittery hearts, or corny jokes. But never anything direct or of substance.
I, am an orphan.
I’ve been telling myself all day that there are reasons for this abandoned feeling I struggle with. I know God intends to use this for His glory. He planned everything about me and about my life. He placed every freckle I have exactly where it’s at. He made my hair curl and He put that “dimple” on my butt. He made my father black and my mother white on purpose and he made me an only child for a reason. I know all these things as fact. But what I don’t know, is why He made my mother sick and my father absent so that I would be all alone.
Years ago, someone used a cross stitch design to illustrate to me our lives with Christ. The front was a cute little design, with neat, tight stitches. “This is what God sees when He looks at our lives.” She’d said, “Every stitch in that exact place, for a reason. One stitch alone seems unimportant, but together they make something beautiful. Any one thing about our lives might seem random by itself, but it’s meant to come together for a reason.” Then she turned over the little piece of fabric, to reveal the chaos of thread crisscrossing and knotted and overlapping, tangled together, making altogether no sense…“meanwhile, this is what we see.” She said and laughed.I am mixed for a reason and I am an only child for a reason. I have the job I do for a reason and I am here in California at this very moment for a reason…and I have the parents I do, for a reason. There are parts of my life that definitely feel like the chaos of the reverse side of a cross stitch pattern. I hope that someday, God will show me the design He’s making with me.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." ~Jeremiah 29:11-13
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." ~Jeremiah 29:11-13
Love y’all,
~M~
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Words to Remember
"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will." ~ Romans 12:2
“…Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” ~1 Samuel 16:7
"...I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me." ~John 14:6
"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. Do everything in love." ~1 Corinthians 16: 13 & 14
"And without faith, it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him." ~Hebrews 11:6
"My eyes are ever on the Lord, for only He will release my feet from the snare." ~Psalm 25:15
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control." ~Galations 5:22
“I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” ~Philippians 4:23
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Waiting is the Hardest Part: Part 1
When I was in my mid-twenties, I thought I’d endured my last wedding. Wedding season seemed to be the years between high school and college graduations. And as those years passed, I became more and more aware that this was a season I’d be spending on the bench. It was difficult, because it’s something I want so much – to find the one whom my soul loves. To belong to someone and conspire to face the rest of our lives, together, no matter what.
Years have passed since that time (ahem, not that many years, but still) and I have lived a full life despite this one desire not being fulfilled. Now, in the last month, two of my good friends have gotten engaged and are in the middle of wedding planning. One of them, dearest to my heart, even asked me to be in her wedding. Leading up to her now fiancé popping the question, I’d secretly wondered how I would feel about the wedding in general and if, by chance, she would ask me to participate. When the question came, I was honored – and happy to know that my love for my friend overshadowed any other feelings I might have had. About a week later a friend in Texas called with exciting news; her boyfriend had proposed. Wow, that’s so…great.
I felt like the parents of a new baby, who just started sleeping through the night, when someone slams a door or makes a loud noise. The parents freeze and look at each other panicked, waiting…waiting…did we make it, or is she going to react? Was I going to be happy and excited…or were the feelings from my 20’s when I was benched for the season, going to come back full force? I was cautiously excited for her, guarding my feelings and my level of exposure to the whole situation, the entire time.
So now I’m helping my dear friend plan the wedding that I’ll be in – and I’m so excited to do it. She’s a cherished friend and is supportive of my feelings on the entire topic. Today, my Texas friend emailed me several times, with a website and plans for not just one, but two weddings, this year and next. I want to be a good friend to her and support her in her exciting time, but I could also feel the panic feeling rising in my shoulders and my chest. The baby was stirring. Not fully awake, but restless…will she react? Will she stay asleep? Waiting…waiting…would I feel sorry for myself, since my Texas friend is there because I gave her my job? Would I begin to yearn again for my own lobster (sorry, random “Friends” reference) and that special connection? Or worse, would I begin to look behind me, or wonder if something is wrong with me?
I decided to read one of the daily email devotionals. The title was “The Waiting is the Hardest Part” and it discussed waiting on God’s perfect timing. Slowly, the baby began to settle down.
I don’t know why God has me still waiting on the sidelines, and then brings someone together with their lobster in record time. I have to trust it’s for a good reason, and I have to believe that like Abram and Sarai, the benefits of waiting and trusting in Him will be more then I could ever imagine. It’s hard, I won’t lie. And it’s a moment-to-moment decision. But I titled this blog “Part 1”, because I have to trust and believe that someday, God will bring me to my Part 2. And small things – like the perfect timing and subject of that devotional – help me believe that He will.
Love y’all,
~M~
Years have passed since that time (ahem, not that many years, but still) and I have lived a full life despite this one desire not being fulfilled. Now, in the last month, two of my good friends have gotten engaged and are in the middle of wedding planning. One of them, dearest to my heart, even asked me to be in her wedding. Leading up to her now fiancé popping the question, I’d secretly wondered how I would feel about the wedding in general and if, by chance, she would ask me to participate. When the question came, I was honored – and happy to know that my love for my friend overshadowed any other feelings I might have had. About a week later a friend in Texas called with exciting news; her boyfriend had proposed. Wow, that’s so…great.
I felt like the parents of a new baby, who just started sleeping through the night, when someone slams a door or makes a loud noise. The parents freeze and look at each other panicked, waiting…waiting…did we make it, or is she going to react? Was I going to be happy and excited…or were the feelings from my 20’s when I was benched for the season, going to come back full force? I was cautiously excited for her, guarding my feelings and my level of exposure to the whole situation, the entire time.
So now I’m helping my dear friend plan the wedding that I’ll be in – and I’m so excited to do it. She’s a cherished friend and is supportive of my feelings on the entire topic. Today, my Texas friend emailed me several times, with a website and plans for not just one, but two weddings, this year and next. I want to be a good friend to her and support her in her exciting time, but I could also feel the panic feeling rising in my shoulders and my chest. The baby was stirring. Not fully awake, but restless…will she react? Will she stay asleep? Waiting…waiting…would I feel sorry for myself, since my Texas friend is there because I gave her my job? Would I begin to yearn again for my own lobster (sorry, random “Friends” reference) and that special connection? Or worse, would I begin to look behind me, or wonder if something is wrong with me?
I decided to read one of the daily email devotionals. The title was “The Waiting is the Hardest Part” and it discussed waiting on God’s perfect timing. Slowly, the baby began to settle down.
I don’t know why God has me still waiting on the sidelines, and then brings someone together with their lobster in record time. I have to trust it’s for a good reason, and I have to believe that like Abram and Sarai, the benefits of waiting and trusting in Him will be more then I could ever imagine. It’s hard, I won’t lie. And it’s a moment-to-moment decision. But I titled this blog “Part 1”, because I have to trust and believe that someday, God will bring me to my Part 2. And small things – like the perfect timing and subject of that devotional – help me believe that He will.
Love y’all,
~M~
Monday, November 9, 2009
Choose the Right
I hadn’t lived in my new studio an hour yet and the Mormons came knocking. Maybe it was rude of me, but when I opened the door and saw who was standing on my new front stoop, I said simply, “No thanks!” and closed the door in their faces. Then I hit the deck and listened for them to go away while Malachi licked my ear hole.
Mormonism is debatable in the Christian community. Most of us question their salvation. But one thing that I have always liked, is the “CTR” rings you can find many of them wearing. CTR, Choose the Right. It’s a nice reminder that I wish wasn’t necessarily a universal symbol of Mormonism. Because really, that’s what we all should do, daily. Choose the right.
I woke up this morning feeling frazzled and rushed. I left home ten minutes late and was calculating how many minutes late I would be if I went X many miles over the speed limit. Wait – do I have my iPod? Did I forget my phone?? I could feel another bad morning (if not day) starting. Did I remember my socks, so that I can walk with Joanne at lunch? I haven’t remembered those stupid socks for a week and here I am starting another one on the wrong foot…and I didn’t pack my gym clothes either did I? I didn’t even bother to do the laundry so they’d be clean…how do I think I’m ever going to run a stupid half-marathon if I can’t even manage clean clothes? I can’t get a work-out in regularly…wait, did I pack my badge?! Oh forget it! Why do I think I can change? What am I thinking, that I can improve or that this coming year, with just me and God will be so great and so changing?? I’m not even keeping up on my reading for Community Bible Study! I’m just the same old screw up I’ve always been…
I really didn’t want to have another day feeling like a screw up loser. So, in that moment, I just chose not to. I told the enemy, the liar, to get behind me and I said, “God, help me.” My badge was in my bag…and so were my socks, and my iPod and my cell phone. I ate the breakfast I threw in my bag and after I walked with Joanne at lunch, I ate the leftovers I’d grabbed as well. When I came home after work, I put a load of clothes in to wash and when Malachi goes in his crate for “bedtime”, I’ll head back to the base and hit the gym.
The enemy likes to get to me – he likes to remind me of my insecurities – he sits on my shoulder, whispering in my ear all of my shortcomings and failures. It’s hard to resist him all the time, sometimes I don’t recognize his voice at first…and then other times, I just get weak and listen to him. Sometimes when I listen, I start to agree. And maybe, some of what he says is true. I mean, I am a filthy sinner at heart...
But accepting Christ’s salvation, makes me a child of God – a child of light. And there is no room for that dark discouraged place in the light. The Holy Spirit is in me, standing by to tell me when to recognize that voice as the enemy. The Holy Spirit will tell me when I need to do my laundry and pack my bag for the next day – and when I need to hit the gym. And Christ is ready to give me the strength to do these things and more. All I have to do, is make the right choice. I can choose to do the same things I’ve always done and live an “ok” life…or I can choose to listen and choose take action and see where my life will go. All I have to do, is choose the right.
Love y'all,
~M~
Mormonism is debatable in the Christian community. Most of us question their salvation. But one thing that I have always liked, is the “CTR” rings you can find many of them wearing. CTR, Choose the Right. It’s a nice reminder that I wish wasn’t necessarily a universal symbol of Mormonism. Because really, that’s what we all should do, daily. Choose the right.
I woke up this morning feeling frazzled and rushed. I left home ten minutes late and was calculating how many minutes late I would be if I went X many miles over the speed limit. Wait – do I have my iPod? Did I forget my phone?? I could feel another bad morning (if not day) starting. Did I remember my socks, so that I can walk with Joanne at lunch? I haven’t remembered those stupid socks for a week and here I am starting another one on the wrong foot…and I didn’t pack my gym clothes either did I? I didn’t even bother to do the laundry so they’d be clean…how do I think I’m ever going to run a stupid half-marathon if I can’t even manage clean clothes? I can’t get a work-out in regularly…wait, did I pack my badge?! Oh forget it! Why do I think I can change? What am I thinking, that I can improve or that this coming year, with just me and God will be so great and so changing?? I’m not even keeping up on my reading for Community Bible Study! I’m just the same old screw up I’ve always been…
I really didn’t want to have another day feeling like a screw up loser. So, in that moment, I just chose not to. I told the enemy, the liar, to get behind me and I said, “God, help me.” My badge was in my bag…and so were my socks, and my iPod and my cell phone. I ate the breakfast I threw in my bag and after I walked with Joanne at lunch, I ate the leftovers I’d grabbed as well. When I came home after work, I put a load of clothes in to wash and when Malachi goes in his crate for “bedtime”, I’ll head back to the base and hit the gym.
The enemy likes to get to me – he likes to remind me of my insecurities – he sits on my shoulder, whispering in my ear all of my shortcomings and failures. It’s hard to resist him all the time, sometimes I don’t recognize his voice at first…and then other times, I just get weak and listen to him. Sometimes when I listen, I start to agree. And maybe, some of what he says is true. I mean, I am a filthy sinner at heart...
But accepting Christ’s salvation, makes me a child of God – a child of light. And there is no room for that dark discouraged place in the light. The Holy Spirit is in me, standing by to tell me when to recognize that voice as the enemy. The Holy Spirit will tell me when I need to do my laundry and pack my bag for the next day – and when I need to hit the gym. And Christ is ready to give me the strength to do these things and more. All I have to do, is make the right choice. I can choose to do the same things I’ve always done and live an “ok” life…or I can choose to listen and choose take action and see where my life will go. All I have to do, is choose the right.
Love y'all,
~M~
Hope in the Form of a New Tattoo
Friday evening was Round 2 on the white tatt. I’ve been preparing myself for the possibility of a third session (and not just because I like threes, lol), but Sabin said more of the white ink took then he expected, which is good. I seem to have good tattoo mojo – when I had one removed years ago, the technician said more of the ink dissolved away then she’d expected after the first session. So I guess among other things, I respond well to ink…coming or going.
Anyway, now, while I nurse my left wrist and ignore the subtle itch from my skin tightening into a scab, I wonder if my mindset is any different from when I first got this tattoo. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I’m 100% over the more painful reasons why I got it…but I can say I don’t feel the need to communicate those reasons before the more positive reasons.
In addition to any afore mentioned reasons, I decided to place “Love…” on my left wrist, because on that wrist, it would point out, toward my hand. Toward action. I asked Sabin to put it more on the top part of my wrist, rather than right in the middle or towards the lower part of my wrist. I wanted the dot, dot, dot to point to my thumb. Expectantly - dot, dot, dot – more to come. I didn’t want the idea to allude to my hand or my palm, because it’s really all about the thumb. It’s the thumb that’s opposable. The thumb that is the maker of things happening, so to speak.Around the same time I was combating my emotions to the negative, God was revealing to me that love is action. "Faith without works is dead." When I moved to California, almost immediately I started looking for volunteer opportunities. But my reasons where more…self serving then I cared to acknowledge. Nothing much came from my efforts, because I wasn’t making it for the right reasons, or with the right focus. While I was feeling abandoned, unloved, alone (insert sorrowful descriptor here ;), He was whispering to me “If you love me, you will love others.” God was telling me to love because I love Him and I struggled with that. I struggled, because I didn’t know how. I know how to love on people I know (a-hem, read: people I like), but I don't know how to love on people I don’t know (or like). I don’t know what I’m good at, or what I have to offer people. But I promised to look for opportunities…I would have to put my love for Christ into action. Because, if I may quote the illustrious DC Talk, love…is a verb.
This morning, Pastor Aaron shared about one of our church’s holiday ministries, called Christmas for Kids (yeah, yeah, so we haven’t mastered creative titling, yet!). Christmas for Kids is a holiday program our church started for area families who (for various reasons) would otherwise not qualify for community aide programs during the holiday season. Element (that’s my church, btw), invites these families – usually single moms and their kids – to the church for a social time…and shopping trips. Wait, what?? I’m sorry, did you say…shopping? Yeah – volunteers decorate the church, they cook meals to share at the church and they take the children and sometimes the moms shopping. Wait, see, there it is again. I just need to be clear on this. So, what you’re saying is, you have an actual ministry, for shopping?? Wow. Ok, yeah. So, uuuh…can I sign up twice for that, or how’s that work, exactly…? Because I am all over this ministry. For reals. :-D It’s a short term ministry, only for the holiday season. But it’s also exactly up my alley – and completely within my spiritual giftings (lol).
The feelings that came with the initial “Love…” tattoo are slowly healing. Eventually, those scabs will flake away revealing what’s beneath. With this recent touch up, I believe that what’s there, will be something more like Christ.
Love y'all!
~M~
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Who’s the Man?!
Well, around these parts, “the man” is me! :-D I have just completed my third – yes, folks, my magic three – independent task!
First was my battle with Comcast cable. Getting my cable television connected should come with the subtitle: Constant Reminder that You are Alone. Because that’s what I was. I was alone the whole eight hours I took off from work to wait for the cable guy who never showed. I was alone, when I called customer service no fewer than eight times. I was alone when I was routed and transferred to every state in the union except California. And I was alone when I was cussing and screaming because I knew “my call may be recorded for training or quality assurance purposes.” And I was still alone just three days later when my snazzy new hi def cable went ka-put. It was while I was on hold for 45 minutes with what ultimately turned out to be the customer service department in Washington DC when I literally cried out to God, “I hate this, Lord! I hate that I’m so alone – why do you make me do this alone when you know I can’t handle it?!”
How come I have to say silly things earnestly and out loud before God will answer me…? Because it wasn’t one second after those words were out of my mouth that God said simply, “I’m here.” Huh? Oh, right. You. Creator of the Universe. No offense, but, um…aren’t you busy with something more important? “Nope. I’m right here.” Huh, ok. A few minutes later I was transferred (again) and three clicks on my remote later, cable was restored.
So Thursday, when my new coffee table was delivered in several pieces, rather than brain storm people I could beg to come help me put it together, I decided that between the two of us, I could get the table together myself. And, with only a couple of tense moments, I did.
Today I bought a floating shelf. I’ve always liked them, but never got one before because they seemed like a hassle to mount. Studio living encourages making the best use of all areas (even walls), so tonight I tore open the packaging and…great, molly bolts. Seriously?! Deep breath. Ok, we can do this…right? Well, apparently not – one molly in, and I’d already run into issues. God, hello?! What happened to ‘I’m here’?! “I’m here.” Then why aren’t you helping me?? “Because you didn’t ask.”
The molly that I screwed up is still screwed in crooked, but the one that I did with God’s help is perfect. And that’s the screw holding the lion’s share of the weight for my little shelf, hanging off the wall. I like it that way. When I look at it, it reminds me that I have several choices in my life. Recorded proof in multiple customer service departments, nation-wide, that I am a psychopathic b*tch would be the result of choosing to do things alone. Sturdy accomplishments, that I struggled a bit to complete and need to remember to give God full credit for are the results of trusting God tentatively. I can choose to give my efforts to God to complete/repair/resolve part way through…or I can live a life given fully to God from the beginning. Naturally I want to choose the last one!
My little floating shelf is my pseudo nightstand. Maybe waking up to it every morning will remind me of the choice I want to make every day. And hopefully it will remind me that the answer to the question, “Who’s the man?!” is, and always will be….God.
Love y'all,
~M~
First was my battle with Comcast cable. Getting my cable television connected should come with the subtitle: Constant Reminder that You are Alone. Because that’s what I was. I was alone the whole eight hours I took off from work to wait for the cable guy who never showed. I was alone, when I called customer service no fewer than eight times. I was alone when I was routed and transferred to every state in the union except California. And I was alone when I was cussing and screaming because I knew “my call may be recorded for training or quality assurance purposes.” And I was still alone just three days later when my snazzy new hi def cable went ka-put. It was while I was on hold for 45 minutes with what ultimately turned out to be the customer service department in Washington DC when I literally cried out to God, “I hate this, Lord! I hate that I’m so alone – why do you make me do this alone when you know I can’t handle it?!”
How come I have to say silly things earnestly and out loud before God will answer me…? Because it wasn’t one second after those words were out of my mouth that God said simply, “I’m here.” Huh? Oh, right. You. Creator of the Universe. No offense, but, um…aren’t you busy with something more important? “Nope. I’m right here.” Huh, ok. A few minutes later I was transferred (again) and three clicks on my remote later, cable was restored.
So Thursday, when my new coffee table was delivered in several pieces, rather than brain storm people I could beg to come help me put it together, I decided that between the two of us, I could get the table together myself. And, with only a couple of tense moments, I did.
Today I bought a floating shelf. I’ve always liked them, but never got one before because they seemed like a hassle to mount. Studio living encourages making the best use of all areas (even walls), so tonight I tore open the packaging and…great, molly bolts. Seriously?! Deep breath. Ok, we can do this…right? Well, apparently not – one molly in, and I’d already run into issues. God, hello?! What happened to ‘I’m here’?! “I’m here.” Then why aren’t you helping me?? “Because you didn’t ask.”
The molly that I screwed up is still screwed in crooked, but the one that I did with God’s help is perfect. And that’s the screw holding the lion’s share of the weight for my little shelf, hanging off the wall. I like it that way. When I look at it, it reminds me that I have several choices in my life. Recorded proof in multiple customer service departments, nation-wide, that I am a psychopathic b*tch would be the result of choosing to do things alone. Sturdy accomplishments, that I struggled a bit to complete and need to remember to give God full credit for are the results of trusting God tentatively. I can choose to give my efforts to God to complete/repair/resolve part way through…or I can live a life given fully to God from the beginning. Naturally I want to choose the last one!
My little floating shelf is my pseudo nightstand. Maybe waking up to it every morning will remind me of the choice I want to make every day. And hopefully it will remind me that the answer to the question, “Who’s the man?!” is, and always will be….God.
Love y'all,
~M~
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Finding My Voice
I got an email from a reader today! So, yeah, if it wasn’t you - then it must be the other one, lol…
My reader asked if I plan to talk more on God’s grace in my life. Good idea, I replied, the trouble is, I don’t know how. How do I articulate the vastness of God or the greatness of his mercy…His kindness…His patience (especially with me)? It’s not the first time I’ve been encouraged to write more on my beliefs and my relationship with God, so it stuck with me and I thought about it all day. I decided that just because I don't have the answer yet, doesn't mean I can't step out in faith. It doesn't mean that I can't try...
At work last week, I was standing at the front desk when a little girl, maybe two years old, appeared in the doorway. She was all smiles, dressed in pink, with a brown stuffed monkey strapped to her back. Leading away from the monkey and out of the frame of the doorway, was a narrow brown…leash. Robbin (our receptionist) and I cooed and helloed at the little girl until the leash swayed a little and a woman’s voice said, “C’mon honey, catch up…”
Friday my landlord, Dayna, texted me. She was at my place with a handyman and wanted to know if she could take Malachi out of his crate. Of course, please do, he loves making new friends! I told her if they go outside, he needs his leash, because when he’s excited, he can forget what “Come” means. Later in the afternoon, Dayna texted to report on his performance. “He’s so cute” she said, “and strong for his size! Who would’ve thought he could pull so hard on the leash? I thought my arm was going to come off!”
If I’m going to write in truth, about my Christian walk and about God’s grace, mercy, patience, kindness, then I feel obligated to reveal, that I need a spiritual leash.
So often, I can be like that little girl…and even more often, like my dog. When God wants me to do something – let’s say, give up something I am passionate about – I’ll linger, looking at it, making nice with it, reluctant to move on to whatever is next. God will give my leash a little tug and then sometimes a bigger tug and eventually, like the little girl, I’ll (reluctantly) move on. Other times, God will open a door and, like my Malachi, I’m off like a shot - ready to experience everything about the opportunity, even before I’m clear on what we’re actually doing, exactly. But I’m ready. Ready, willing and able – and I’m off:
“Keep up, God ok? C’mon, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!! You’re falling behind God, but I can’t slow down for you, because I’m doing your work here…c’mon Lord, I can hardly see you now, wouldja catch up, already?? Let’s goooo!” and then, without warning, I’m jerked back to the feet of God, cartoon style. The same way Malachi eventually returns to my ankles, when choking himself half to death just to get a half inch closer to whatever is ahead, has lost its appeal.
When he returns, I chuckle and say, “Good boy, Mal, you’re a good boy.” Surely when that little girl catches up to the owner of the voice & holder of the leash, there is positive reinforcement there. And when I return to God, to lead me on, I believe He is pleased as well.
So, readers (and yes, I’m speaking to both of you now ;), stay with me and my new little blog. Because I’m still finding my voice.
Love y’all,
~M~
My reader asked if I plan to talk more on God’s grace in my life. Good idea, I replied, the trouble is, I don’t know how. How do I articulate the vastness of God or the greatness of his mercy…His kindness…His patience (especially with me)? It’s not the first time I’ve been encouraged to write more on my beliefs and my relationship with God, so it stuck with me and I thought about it all day. I decided that just because I don't have the answer yet, doesn't mean I can't step out in faith. It doesn't mean that I can't try...
At work last week, I was standing at the front desk when a little girl, maybe two years old, appeared in the doorway. She was all smiles, dressed in pink, with a brown stuffed monkey strapped to her back. Leading away from the monkey and out of the frame of the doorway, was a narrow brown…leash. Robbin (our receptionist) and I cooed and helloed at the little girl until the leash swayed a little and a woman’s voice said, “C’mon honey, catch up…”
Friday my landlord, Dayna, texted me. She was at my place with a handyman and wanted to know if she could take Malachi out of his crate. Of course, please do, he loves making new friends! I told her if they go outside, he needs his leash, because when he’s excited, he can forget what “Come” means. Later in the afternoon, Dayna texted to report on his performance. “He’s so cute” she said, “and strong for his size! Who would’ve thought he could pull so hard on the leash? I thought my arm was going to come off!”
If I’m going to write in truth, about my Christian walk and about God’s grace, mercy, patience, kindness, then I feel obligated to reveal, that I need a spiritual leash.
So often, I can be like that little girl…and even more often, like my dog. When God wants me to do something – let’s say, give up something I am passionate about – I’ll linger, looking at it, making nice with it, reluctant to move on to whatever is next. God will give my leash a little tug and then sometimes a bigger tug and eventually, like the little girl, I’ll (reluctantly) move on. Other times, God will open a door and, like my Malachi, I’m off like a shot - ready to experience everything about the opportunity, even before I’m clear on what we’re actually doing, exactly. But I’m ready. Ready, willing and able – and I’m off:
“Keep up, God ok? C’mon, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!! You’re falling behind God, but I can’t slow down for you, because I’m doing your work here…c’mon Lord, I can hardly see you now, wouldja catch up, already?? Let’s goooo!” and then, without warning, I’m jerked back to the feet of God, cartoon style. The same way Malachi eventually returns to my ankles, when choking himself half to death just to get a half inch closer to whatever is ahead, has lost its appeal.
When he returns, I chuckle and say, “Good boy, Mal, you’re a good boy.” Surely when that little girl catches up to the owner of the voice & holder of the leash, there is positive reinforcement there. And when I return to God, to lead me on, I believe He is pleased as well.
So, readers (and yes, I’m speaking to both of you now ;), stay with me and my new little blog. Because I’m still finding my voice.
Love y’all,
~M~
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
That’s the Way Love Goes
It's been awhile, I know. I meant to post this on Thursday. Think of my absense as building suspense. Or demand...lol...
My latest tattoo is healing up nicely. It looks less and less like raw, pink, self mutilation every day, lol. Sabin, my tattoo artist, goes to my church and assures me it will get darker (well, whiter) after the second round. I might want black ink after all, we’ll see. I figure, if you’re gunna make a statement, why whisper it? The idea came to me in a day and I think I gave it maybe 12 hours of thought, truth be known. I had planned to have something completely different put on a completely different part of my body. But what can I say? When lightning strikes…
I got the tatt during another emotionally complicated episode this year (man, 09 has been full of 'em!). I gave my life to Christ and things sort of hit the fan - coming at me all at once. The infamous MSO (My Special One) had found me again, 3200 miles away, but was drifting out of my life for the third time & I was wrestling with the fact that I was actually encouraging it! For various reasons, my mother is physically and emotionally unable to “be there” for me the way a mom usually is. I suspected coming to the west coast wouldn’t change our relationship, but I’d still hoped. Now she was proving my suspicions to be fact. My grandfather had a heart attack, followed by the news another relative has brain cancer and I was barely receiving updates on either of them when, a few days later, I learned several members of my family (my grandparents included) belong to either a religious cult, or a religious sect (more on that later - you can bet that's a blog post!). I felt totally overwhelmed.
I knew one thing, though: I was done chasing love. I was done being understanding and supportive of men like MSO, while giving away all of me. I was done projecting perfection to my gramma to earn her approval, I was done pretending text forwards from my father suffice for a relationship and I was done always being available for my mother, who never follows through anyway. I wanted a reminder. “Love” on the tender inside part of my outstretched arm. Reaching, always reaching. Until now. At the same time, I felt God reminding me that faith without deeds is dead. Love, on my outstretched arm. Reminding me to do. Both, from now on.
My latest tattoo is healing up nicely. It looks less and less like raw, pink, self mutilation every day, lol. Sabin, my tattoo artist, goes to my church and assures me it will get darker (well, whiter) after the second round. I might want black ink after all, we’ll see. I figure, if you’re gunna make a statement, why whisper it? The idea came to me in a day and I think I gave it maybe 12 hours of thought, truth be known. I had planned to have something completely different put on a completely different part of my body. But what can I say? When lightning strikes…
I got the tatt during another emotionally complicated episode this year (man, 09 has been full of 'em!). I gave my life to Christ and things sort of hit the fan - coming at me all at once. The infamous MSO (My Special One) had found me again, 3200 miles away, but was drifting out of my life for the third time & I was wrestling with the fact that I was actually encouraging it! For various reasons, my mother is physically and emotionally unable to “be there” for me the way a mom usually is. I suspected coming to the west coast wouldn’t change our relationship, but I’d still hoped. Now she was proving my suspicions to be fact. My grandfather had a heart attack, followed by the news another relative has brain cancer and I was barely receiving updates on either of them when, a few days later, I learned several members of my family (my grandparents included) belong to either a religious cult, or a religious sect (more on that later - you can bet that's a blog post!). I felt totally overwhelmed.
I knew one thing, though: I was done chasing love. I was done being understanding and supportive of men like MSO, while giving away all of me. I was done projecting perfection to my gramma to earn her approval, I was done pretending text forwards from my father suffice for a relationship and I was done always being available for my mother, who never follows through anyway. I wanted a reminder. “Love” on the tender inside part of my outstretched arm. Reaching, always reaching. Until now. At the same time, I felt God reminding me that faith without deeds is dead. Love, on my outstretched arm. Reminding me to do. Both, from now on.
The dot, dot, dot is an important part to…it reminds me that one way or another, my lesson on love – my “love story” – isn’t over yet. :)
Love y'all,
~M~
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Run Forest, Run
My roommate is naughty and he does not know it. In our house, one of us is in charge of doing things like running, swimming, sweating and completing triathlons. That person can tell you the difference between the two bicycles in the garage and what "goo" is for. The other one of us, is in charge of doing things like blogging, monitoring the actions & outfits of the desperate Atlanta housewives and holding the sofa down every evening. That person can tell you which celebutant just had a baby named after a bird and how to link your Twitter to your Facebook. Those of you who know me (or who just read this blog), know which one is me…
If you know me at all, you know two other things about me as well. In no particular order, I’m a girly girl and I’m a flirt. I like nice looking things (animate or inanimate lol)…and I like them even more, when they're not a lot of money (the inanimate ones, I mean ;). So naturally, you can understand my distress when I came to discover today that there is a race every year in San Francisco (home of the roommate’s girlfriend, too, btw) where participants receive a real live Tiffany necklace! Um, yeah – I said Tiffany. Oh, and it gets better. The necklace? It’s put on you by firefighters, dressed out in their uniforms.
Are you serious?! How did my roommate not see the complete urgency in telling me this?! I will run until the earth curves, if it means Tiffany jewelry and a hot firefighter at the end. I am crushed that my roommate does not love me enough to inform me of the highlights of his responsibilities. I make a point to clarify for him that on CSI: Miami, everybody calls Horatio “H” for short. See, one of us cares that the other stays updated on the pertinent details of our respective responsibilities…
So, it looks like I’m running a half marathon next year. There are three reasons for making this happen. The first (and most important) being, of course my dear friend, “Tiffany”. The second reason, is the suggestion alone of a hot firefighter touching me. And the third reason is just practical: I have a year to get ready. I could technically do this.
When the roommate came home from what was surely a vigorous session of running/swimming/sweating, I had to share with him (from my position holding down the sofa) my utter disappointment in his failure to inform me. Before I even shared the Tiffany sized nugget of knowledge I gained from not him today, he knew what I was going to say. He beat me to “Tiffany” and then he said, “…and do you know who gives it to you?” Of course I know, roommate. No thanks to you. But I was forced to forgive him when he offered (or more accurately “said jokingly”, but I’m choosing to hear “offered”) to run the race for me – thereby allowing me to show up at the finish line, hair done, make-up on to be presented with my necklace. That works for me. Good roommate, very good roommate! :-D
Love y'all!
~M~
If you know me at all, you know two other things about me as well. In no particular order, I’m a girly girl and I’m a flirt. I like nice looking things (animate or inanimate lol)…and I like them even more, when they're not a lot of money (the inanimate ones, I mean ;). So naturally, you can understand my distress when I came to discover today that there is a race every year in San Francisco (home of the roommate’s girlfriend, too, btw) where participants receive a real live Tiffany necklace! Um, yeah – I said Tiffany. Oh, and it gets better. The necklace? It’s put on you by firefighters, dressed out in their uniforms.
Are you serious?! How did my roommate not see the complete urgency in telling me this?! I will run until the earth curves, if it means Tiffany jewelry and a hot firefighter at the end. I am crushed that my roommate does not love me enough to inform me of the highlights of his responsibilities. I make a point to clarify for him that on CSI: Miami, everybody calls Horatio “H” for short. See, one of us cares that the other stays updated on the pertinent details of our respective responsibilities…
So, it looks like I’m running a half marathon next year. There are three reasons for making this happen. The first (and most important) being, of course my dear friend, “Tiffany”. The second reason, is the suggestion alone of a hot firefighter touching me. And the third reason is just practical: I have a year to get ready. I could technically do this. When the roommate came home from what was surely a vigorous session of running/swimming/sweating, I had to share with him (from my position holding down the sofa) my utter disappointment in his failure to inform me. Before I even shared the Tiffany sized nugget of knowledge I gained from not him today, he knew what I was going to say. He beat me to “Tiffany” and then he said, “…and do you know who gives it to you?” Of course I know, roommate. No thanks to you. But I was forced to forgive him when he offered (or more accurately “said jokingly”, but I’m choosing to hear “offered”) to run the race for me – thereby allowing me to show up at the finish line, hair done, make-up on to be presented with my necklace. That works for me. Good roommate, very good roommate! :-D
Love y'all!
~M~
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Yoga for the Soul
I arrived in Santa Barbara June 1st and by September 7th I rededicated my life to Christ. When I got here, I had no idea rededicating was something I should even consider. But thinking, reading, praying over those three months helped me see that my move to DC (and how I had been living since) was completely independent of God. I don’t know - maybe it was “we” when I left home, but by the time I got to DC it was “me”…and then I got scared and it became more “me” everyday. Before I knew it, I was treating God the way you do a signature for a UPS delivery: sign here, get your package, good-bye. Or in my case: God, sign here so I can get what I want/need…thanks and see you next time.
When I moved to California from DC, I told people that my time here would be like yoga for my soul. The previous two years kicked my butt so I was more than ready to just relax and rejuvenate. But God, apparently, had other ideas. Sitting standby at the SeaTac airport I gave the wheel back to God…and has He been cleaning house since! My time here is turning out to be yoga, all right – but not the warm, fuzzy, Zen kind that I imagined. No, it’s something more like Downward Dog so I can’t see straight ahead. Plank pose for an indefinite length of time. Or no, better yet – it’s Bikram yoga! Hot, hard…and curiously addictive…
There are so many things being uncovered in my life – I feel like a rubbernecker at the scene of my very own accident. God is rooting around in my heart and in my life while I squeal and squirm and sometimes shriek “Wait, noooo!!” But I’m trying – I’m trying – to more often say “Ok, God, take that too. What else is in there that shouldn’t be…?”
It’s hard – I’m still struggling and there is a lot that I don’t understand yet. But I’m trusting. Because I remember how good life is, when I do that. And because I’m curious. I’m curious what life will be again, as “we” instead of “me”.
Love y'all,
~M~
When I moved to California from DC, I told people that my time here would be like yoga for my soul. The previous two years kicked my butt so I was more than ready to just relax and rejuvenate. But God, apparently, had other ideas. Sitting standby at the SeaTac airport I gave the wheel back to God…and has He been cleaning house since! My time here is turning out to be yoga, all right – but not the warm, fuzzy, Zen kind that I imagined. No, it’s something more like Downward Dog so I can’t see straight ahead. Plank pose for an indefinite length of time. Or no, better yet – it’s Bikram yoga! Hot, hard…and curiously addictive…
There are so many things being uncovered in my life – I feel like a rubbernecker at the scene of my very own accident. God is rooting around in my heart and in my life while I squeal and squirm and sometimes shriek “Wait, noooo!!” But I’m trying – I’m trying – to more often say “Ok, God, take that too. What else is in there that shouldn’t be…?”
It’s hard – I’m still struggling and there is a lot that I don’t understand yet. But I’m trusting. Because I remember how good life is, when I do that. And because I’m curious. I’m curious what life will be again, as “we” instead of “me”.
Love y'all,
~M~
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Smiles will Return
Wow, it’s been a really long time. So much has happened this year…I think about blogging all the time. I have so much to say, but I don’t know where to start! I’m tempted to (and probably will) just pick up from here rather than from where I left off when I ended my blog in DC. The details will fill themselves in, over time.
So…I guess I’m back. I think that’s all I have to say this time – just a heads’ up to be ready for fabulousness, lol…and enjoy.
~M~
So…I guess I’m back. I think that’s all I have to say this time – just a heads’ up to be ready for fabulousness, lol…and enjoy.
"Count your blessings. Once you realize how valuable you are and how much you have going for you, the smiles will return, the sun will break out, the music will play, and you will finally be able to move forward the life that God intended for you with grace, strength, courage, and confidence." Og MandinoLove y'all,
~M~
Friday, June 5, 2009
I don't know karate, but I know ca-RAZY!
FYI: I am, apparently, the devil. In case you didn't already know.
One of my fears leaving the DC area, is that my life would get dull or mundane again. My time in the DMV was a lot of things, but "boring" was never one of them.
My drive across the country was calm and uneventful (minus needing to buy tires in Las Vegas after having worn out two of my four already bald tires). The night I pulled into town, I'd arranged to meet with a female I'd been emailing already regarding a room. Her name is Theresa, she's a 37 year-old single Christian. While we were emailing I'd see little things here and there that were "weird"...but we're all weird somehow - they were things I thought I could deal with. She's uber Christian. She's closing in on 40 and never been married. She calls dogs doggies and horses horsies...so what, I pick my head, have special washcloths just for washing my butt and own underwear that I've had since high school. We're all weird.
So we met on Sunday and got along...we went out to dinner and I went back to the hotel that night. Monday night we met again and went to dinner. Afterwards, she invited me to move in.
By Tuesday, I was experiencing "Single White Female"-esque symptoms...while playing with Malachi, Theresa said "Come to mommy". And yeah, she wasn't talking about me. For me, that was a double red flag that I conveniently ignored. First, she referred to my dog as her child. Second, she referred to my dog as her child. Theresa had a dog of her own - a miniature greyhound puppy that she inherited ("from God" by way of someone she hardly knew). She actually didn't like the dog but had been reluctant to return God's gift to the breeder in San Diego. I told her I'd be willing to go with her, if she wanted, because I don't have to report to work until the 11th.
Wednesday morning we were up and very, very slowly out of the house. Another red flag I ignored: Theresa is beyond slow. There are people you know are chronically late...10, 15 minutes, you deal with it. From the time I met her, Theresa was at least 45 minutes late to everything she did, everywhere she went. She assured me it was because the puppy she didn't want and found overwhelming had her frazzled from lack of sleep. She'd actually put him up at a boarding facility for the previous three days.
We were probably 3/4 of the way into our 4 hour drive to San Diego, when Theresa said maybe my bookcases shouldn't go into the spare room. Oh, no problem, I said - I rented a storage unit in Santa Maria so they'll just go there instead. A few minutes later she dropped the bomb, "And...I'm like 10% sure I don't want a roommate at all."
Um...what?!
Ok, sure no problem, I'll start looking for other options and you just let me know what you decide. Big Smile.
It was downhill from there.
You know how in the movies someone doesn't take their meds and then you watch how the crazy slowly creeps in? Yeah, I don't need movies anymore. This nut lost her miiiiiind on me. We made it to the breeder, but the drive back to Santa Barbara was pure, unadulterated hell.
Highlights:
I only got into graduate school because of affirmative action.
I won't like Santa Barbara because it's mostly white.
Mental illness runs in families, which could explain my issues.
And I am, of course, the devil.
Then there was the time I was texting - literally both hands were on my cell phone and she said, "You just raised your fist to me." huh? "You raised your fist to me, do you want to walk home?!" uh, no. "If you raise your fist to me again, I'll put your butt on the bus, clear??" suuure...yeah...crystal...
We listened to the Jesus radio station the entire way...which apparently told her that I am not to be trusted and that I follow black Acuras with tinted windows and somewhere to be...yeah, I didn't get her reference when she said "That's what you follow." and gestured to the car passing us in the next lane. So she had to clarify that I follow whatever is "black" in this world and that I am in for a surprise when I get to heaven. Oh...right, ok. To this I was actually brave enough to say, “I think we're all in for a shocker.” Referring (albeit passively) to her desire to “fly through the clouds” when she goes to heaven…have you ever been on an airplane, Theresa…?! I mean, good grief.
I kept my sunglasses on the whole time - even though it was overcast and I probably didn't need them at all - I was scared and they say never to make eye contact with wild animals. We only talked when she started conversation...but if I dared ask a question, she'd say, "I don't know...why don't you look it up?!" Yeah, I could, but I don't actually care about anything your crazy butt is saying. I'm just trying to keep the peace until I can get out of this car, get my dog (currently locked inside your place) and get us both to safety.
I am immature, a "pill" and not very friendly...although she refused to give me examples on any of these, because I should just know...Pulling into the driveway, she made the most bazaar correlation to the almost full moon, breast implants, my age and my sense of humor....I'm still not clear how those four things are related.
She stood over me the entire time, watching everything while I packed my stuff and loaded my car. I'm not really sure why since, as the devil, her watching me wouldn't really keep me from doing anything, well, evil, would it now...? But whatever. I loaded my car and literally peeled out of the parking lot, Dukes o f Hazard style, leaving her standing arms crossed in my rear view mirror in that crazy, creepy, breast implant-like moonlight.
I'm back at a hotel now and everything is ok. Thanks mostly to attentive friends who were at the ready when they got my all points bulletin-SOS texts. One friend found me a new hotel, another stopped my mail from being delivered to the loon's address, another offered to "come slap a ho" and a forth was already asking her friends if they knew any leads on rooms for rent in Santa Barbara...what would I do without my friends?! :)
In the last two days I've looked at 8 rooms and I have three more scheduled. I have my favorites, which of course aren't calling me back while everyone else is...they both left on vacation right after showing me their rooms. That's so wrong. Don't they realize I'm having a life moment here?!
So technically I still don't have a place to live, but I do know one thing: if past experience means anything, life in Santa Barbara may not be as boring as I feared...!
Love y'all!!
~M~
One of my fears leaving the DC area, is that my life would get dull or mundane again. My time in the DMV was a lot of things, but "boring" was never one of them.
My drive across the country was calm and uneventful (minus needing to buy tires in Las Vegas after having worn out two of my four already bald tires). The night I pulled into town, I'd arranged to meet with a female I'd been emailing already regarding a room. Her name is Theresa, she's a 37 year-old single Christian. While we were emailing I'd see little things here and there that were "weird"...but we're all weird somehow - they were things I thought I could deal with. She's uber Christian. She's closing in on 40 and never been married. She calls dogs doggies and horses horsies...so what, I pick my head, have special washcloths just for washing my butt and own underwear that I've had since high school. We're all weird.
So we met on Sunday and got along...we went out to dinner and I went back to the hotel that night. Monday night we met again and went to dinner. Afterwards, she invited me to move in.
By Tuesday, I was experiencing "Single White Female"-esque symptoms...while playing with Malachi, Theresa said "Come to mommy". And yeah, she wasn't talking about me. For me, that was a double red flag that I conveniently ignored. First, she referred to my dog as her child. Second, she referred to my dog as her child. Theresa had a dog of her own - a miniature greyhound puppy that she inherited ("from God" by way of someone she hardly knew). She actually didn't like the dog but had been reluctant to return God's gift to the breeder in San Diego. I told her I'd be willing to go with her, if she wanted, because I don't have to report to work until the 11th.
Wednesday morning we were up and very, very slowly out of the house. Another red flag I ignored: Theresa is beyond slow. There are people you know are chronically late...10, 15 minutes, you deal with it. From the time I met her, Theresa was at least 45 minutes late to everything she did, everywhere she went. She assured me it was because the puppy she didn't want and found overwhelming had her frazzled from lack of sleep. She'd actually put him up at a boarding facility for the previous three days.
We were probably 3/4 of the way into our 4 hour drive to San Diego, when Theresa said maybe my bookcases shouldn't go into the spare room. Oh, no problem, I said - I rented a storage unit in Santa Maria so they'll just go there instead. A few minutes later she dropped the bomb, "And...I'm like 10% sure I don't want a roommate at all."
Um...what?!
Ok, sure no problem, I'll start looking for other options and you just let me know what you decide. Big Smile.
It was downhill from there.
You know how in the movies someone doesn't take their meds and then you watch how the crazy slowly creeps in? Yeah, I don't need movies anymore. This nut lost her miiiiiind on me. We made it to the breeder, but the drive back to Santa Barbara was pure, unadulterated hell.
Highlights:
I only got into graduate school because of affirmative action.
I won't like Santa Barbara because it's mostly white.
Mental illness runs in families, which could explain my issues.
And I am, of course, the devil.
Then there was the time I was texting - literally both hands were on my cell phone and she said, "You just raised your fist to me." huh? "You raised your fist to me, do you want to walk home?!" uh, no. "If you raise your fist to me again, I'll put your butt on the bus, clear??" suuure...yeah...crystal...
We listened to the Jesus radio station the entire way...which apparently told her that I am not to be trusted and that I follow black Acuras with tinted windows and somewhere to be...yeah, I didn't get her reference when she said "That's what you follow." and gestured to the car passing us in the next lane. So she had to clarify that I follow whatever is "black" in this world and that I am in for a surprise when I get to heaven. Oh...right, ok. To this I was actually brave enough to say, “I think we're all in for a shocker.” Referring (albeit passively) to her desire to “fly through the clouds” when she goes to heaven…have you ever been on an airplane, Theresa…?! I mean, good grief.
I kept my sunglasses on the whole time - even though it was overcast and I probably didn't need them at all - I was scared and they say never to make eye contact with wild animals. We only talked when she started conversation...but if I dared ask a question, she'd say, "I don't know...why don't you look it up?!" Yeah, I could, but I don't actually care about anything your crazy butt is saying. I'm just trying to keep the peace until I can get out of this car, get my dog (currently locked inside your place) and get us both to safety.
I am immature, a "pill" and not very friendly...although she refused to give me examples on any of these, because I should just know...Pulling into the driveway, she made the most bazaar correlation to the almost full moon, breast implants, my age and my sense of humor....I'm still not clear how those four things are related.
She stood over me the entire time, watching everything while I packed my stuff and loaded my car. I'm not really sure why since, as the devil, her watching me wouldn't really keep me from doing anything, well, evil, would it now...? But whatever. I loaded my car and literally peeled out of the parking lot, Dukes o f Hazard style, leaving her standing arms crossed in my rear view mirror in that crazy, creepy, breast implant-like moonlight.
I'm back at a hotel now and everything is ok. Thanks mostly to attentive friends who were at the ready when they got my all points bulletin-SOS texts. One friend found me a new hotel, another stopped my mail from being delivered to the loon's address, another offered to "come slap a ho" and a forth was already asking her friends if they knew any leads on rooms for rent in Santa Barbara...what would I do without my friends?! :)
In the last two days I've looked at 8 rooms and I have three more scheduled. I have my favorites, which of course aren't calling me back while everyone else is...they both left on vacation right after showing me their rooms. That's so wrong. Don't they realize I'm having a life moment here?!
So technically I still don't have a place to live, but I do know one thing: if past experience means anything, life in Santa Barbara may not be as boring as I feared...!
Love y'all!!
~M~
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