The Modern Mocha

"The modern mocha is a bittersweet concoction of imperialism, genocide, invention, and consumerism served with whipped cream on top." ~Sarah Vowell

My decision was an overwhelming one. I found Mocha Club (http://www.mochaclub.org/) at least a month ago and had yet to decide on a project to support.  How do you choose one, when there are so many in need?  But at only $7.00 a month, I knew without a doubt that this was a phenomenal outreach.  $7.00 a month.  People can rationalize not forking out the $30, $40, $50 a month for larger, better known programs – we need that money for our iphone bills, our hair appointments, or to pay for the 500+ channels on our plasma flat screen TV’s.  But $7.00...how can we defend not giving $7.00 a month?  The challenge for me, was deciding how to give.  What’s more important - child mothers?  HIV/AIDS?  Orphans?  Clean water?  Education??

Tonight I entered a contest on a friend’s blog – how many lattes would she drink this year.  Hmmm…if it were me asking this question, the answer would be easy – count the number of days in a year and then multiply by two.  Or maybe three, depending on what the year has in store.  While I was doing my calculations (my guess, btw, is 243) I was reminded again of Mocha Club and I decided tonight would be the night that I join.

For 45 minutes I went back and forth through the various projects.  There are only five, but they’re all important, I couldn’t decide on which one.  Giving doesn’t have to hurt and what I like the most about Mocha Club is that $7.00 a month is relatively nothing for most of us.  I could do them all…and then, when finances get tight, bail like so many others do, or I could keep putting it off, not giving anything because I can’t decide on the “best” one to support.  Or I could pick something and donate just two lattes a month.  I wanted to pick, but I couldn’t.  Slightly overwhelmed (and admittedly, slightly annoyed that my effort to give was stressing me out) I got up and poured myself a glass of water.

I drank the entire glass and poured another when it occurred to me that I was holding my decision: clean water.  My two glasses of Crystal Geyser bottled water came from my refrigerator because my local water, provided for free, “tastes funny”.  Granted it doesn’t taste like mud or spread disease, the way it does in the Sudan, but still...My third glass of water reminded me that I am truly blessed – blessed to have a favorite water when so many have none at all. How many times in the last year have I talked to people about what water they prefer?  Arrowhead is too salty; Dasani is distilled; she only drinks Poland Spring because she knows the source personally and he only drinks Fiji because…well, I can’t remember why.  My personal favorite is Deer Park and anything less is just only…“ok”.

So please - check out http://www.mochaclub.org/ and find a reason to give.  It doesn't have to be water, there are four other projects you could support.  But I’d be psyched if you would join with me – my team is Missmiangels (http://www.mochaclub.org/joinme/missmiangels - I know, I know, my creativity is astounding…thank you, thank you very much, thank you…) and give $7.00 a month so the Sudanese people can have clean water.  Remember, the human body is between 60 - 70 percent water...

Love y’all,
~M~

See Jane Run

I ran three miles today. Three miles, without stopping. Three miles, in intervals, which I’m learning is best for thick chicks with relatively zero background in physical fitness. Three miles all the same. Grinning almost the whole time.

God is working in my life and I can feel it every step of the way. I haven’t written in the last few days, because no one thing has risen to the top of my awareness. I am constantly bombarded by all of the different and unrelated ways that God is working and moving in my life. The only things that are consistent are that He’s working, and that I’m letting him. It feels amazing and exciting and encouraging…

I mark the calendar as time passes and I wonder what the next month will bring…52 weeks ago, I wouldn’t run if my hair was on fire. Where will I be 52 weeks from today…?

“…those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31

“Do you not 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. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.” 1 Cor. 9:24-25

"If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage in the thickets…?” Jeremiah 12:5

“However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace.” Acts: 20:24

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” Hebrews 12:1

Love y'all,
~M~

Home Is Where the Heart Is

“The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence!”… “Remember Lot’s wife!”…I reminded myself of these saying for days – weeks – before I finally allowed myself to seriously consider the possibility that I may want to return to the Metro DC area. Still, tentative, I planned a visit to see how it would feel. Carefully I took mental note of every feeling. The giddy excitement when it was still six weeks away. The way I accidentally referred to it as “going home” in a conversation with a current co-worker. The stomach ache and the way I procrastinated when the time came to head to the airport to return to California. The way I stumbled when a fellow passenger on my flight asked me where I’m from – I caught myself saying “the DC area” before I replaced it with, “Washington state”.

In California I was fearful that I wanted to return to the area for an old flame. But this weekend I came to realize his influence is significantly less than I thought it would be. While I still saw all the places that could well have triggered memories we share, I didn’t think about him much at all. Not until Saturday, when I realized I could inadvertently run into him the next day at church. Immediately after the church service, I sat anxiously in my seat, not sure if I should or could make my way into the crowded lobby. To go, would be to risk interaction with someone significant from my past. To sit, would risk not facing the memories of this place the way my trip was meant to do. I stayed seated until the sanctuary was semi-empty and those moments were the only ones in my whole time there, when fear and emotion got the better of me.

I can honestly say, however, that was my only battle with fear and past hurdles. My overall assessment of my visit is that I really do like the whole DC area and I have to go back. I have to go home. Until this revelation, I looked at the DMV like it had snatched me, chewed me up and spit me out. I had failed there. Just days before my trip I finally summoned up the nerve to tell my mother (by email, the chicken way!) not only that I was going to visit but that I was doing it because I think I want to move back. My mom replied, displeased as expected and as I struggled to hold my ground, I came upon the key to it all – there is nothing wrong with Central California, it’s beautiful here. But I don’t fit here. I don’t fit here, and until recently I didn’t think I fit in DC either…but if given the choice, I would rather be in an environment where I’m forced to grow to fit, then shrink to fit.

DC challenges me to grow. I have to be patient, when English is not the first language of so many. I have to be organized – even to just get from Point A to Point B. I have to be decisive, because there are always so many options there. I have to be confident and outgoing because everyone has somewhere else to be (and usually as soon as possible). Since moving to California, I’ve developed the annoying trait of flushing scarlet when I’m talking in front of my office mates. Mianna, the public speaking major who never had a problem speaking in front of hundreds of people, now physically reacts when in front of just four. I’m shrinking already.

So I don’t know when or how – or where – I’ll go, but I’ve officially decided what my next step will be. The last three years have been an opportunity to discover more about myself and now that I know – and I want to go home. And now, I finally know where that is.

Love y'all,

~M~

Cage the Elephant

What a difference a year makes. One year ago, I was happy. My life was headed in a direction I’d prayed and prayed that it would go. I’ve thought about things since then and yup – life was good. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. Some work had to be done, but everything I’d always wanted was coming together. And then, suddenly, one year ago to the day…it was over. I’ve been wondering all week how today would feel. Part of me thought maybe I wouldn’t even notice, since I’d long ago stopped tracking the months of progress and until only recently it hadn’t even occurred to me the “significance” of today. The other part of me, though, wondered if I would get out of bed at all. It’s been a year(!), but when I think about things for too long, I can still feel the ache in my chest.

What a difference a year makes. I live in California now – sunny, Mediterranean, California. A Shangri-la destination I never thought I’d live. I’m 30lbs lighter and three clothing sizes smaller. I work out five days a week and I can feel the changes in my body and my endurance. I’m gearing up for my first half marathon relay. I haven’t earned a single hour of sick leave since I moved here, but can see the pay off for the appointments with my councilor that I commute an hour for; I can see how facts and events in my past affected me. My relationship with my family is different and as a result, how I relate to the opposite sex is different too. I now live in a postage stamp sized studio cottage and I’ve never been happier – it’s just enough space for me, no more, no less. I’m learning so much from the teacher at my Bible study – an organization called Community Bible Study, that I first learned about in DC, but didn’t have the opportunity to attend regularly. I’ve found a great church that is welcoming and has lots of opportunities to get plugged in.

What a difference a year makes. I’m now healthy in mind, body and spirit. I have never felt better. About a month ago, I started wondering if the feelings I have of missing DC where because “the grass is always greener on the other side” or because I really do miss it. It was a daily thought, I couldn’t figure out the answer to. Do I really want to go back? I decided the best way to know for sure would be to visit. Then, as things came together for my visit, I was invited to also interview for a job while I was there. The opportunity prompted me to think more seriously – and literally – about whether or not I want to return.

What a difference a year makes. For so many years before this last one, there have been things in my life that went unacknowledged. Things that I saw, but had been taught or had learned to carefully and diligently turn my head away from and refuse to acknowledge. I very carefully ignored any figurative “elephants in the room” that where in my presence. I ignored and suppressed and made excuses, until I couldn’t do it anymore. For me, this has been a year of caging the elephants in my life to prevent any future damage...and it feels great. The interview in DC fell through, but I’m just two days away from my visit and I can’t wait. I see it as an opportunity to see a geographic area through healed eyes. Will it be brighter? More pleasant? Or maybe (more realistically) it will be the same, but I will be different. It’s an exciting thought…

Love y'all,
~M~

Son of Sam

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~

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~

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~

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...

“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: 16-17

But 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~

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.

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~

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

I Know it was the Blood

One day when I was lost, He died upon the cross...classic Mahalia Jackson - I ♥ it!



~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~

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.

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~

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~

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~

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.

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

Love y’all,
~M~

Wordless Wednesday

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

"...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

 

“…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

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~