There Never Seems To Be Enough Time

Last winter we had a very huge, very freaky ice storm. When my husband and I went to bed all was calm. During the middle of the night we were wakened by riotous, rumbling thunder, or maybe it was the dog that woke us. Either way, he was barking at the noise, running around the house trying to “catch” that bad thunder, only to jump on our bed trembling in fear. Once we were awake we became an audience to several hours of nature’s theater. We were mesmerized by the erratic tics of lightening, several seconds of blinding light to be immediately followed by the crack of thunder. More amazing still was that it was snowing!

About 30 seconds after my husband left for work the next morning he called my cell phone and told me to look outside our bedroom window. One of my favorite trees, a cedar about 60 feet tall, and a beautiful Christmas-tree shape, had broken down the center of the trunk and splayed out 180 degrees like an acrobat doing the Chinese splits. One half missed our bedroom by about four feet. Aha! An answer to that extra loud CRACK - thud I heard. All the little green branches of the tree were covered in ice. Apparently it collected on the limbs evenly and when the weight of the ice was more than the trunk could withstand it rendered the poor tree in two.

So, why the remembrance of this winter weather six months ago? A couple of reasons. First, it is hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hades outside today. Okay, not really, but to quote one of my favorite lines from the movie Biloxi Blues, “it’s hot, it’s hot, like Africa hot.“ The humidity is so thick and heavy you can almost see it, but if you have asthma like me, almost not breathe it. I wouldn’t mind a little taste of that cool, crisp winter air, so it’s partially wishful thinking.

The other reason I'm reminiscing about the storm is because school starts next week and our tree is still lying on the ground in the backyard outside the bedroom window. Granted, it’s a haven to the little birdies who have made summer homes and reared their babies in the branches. It’s a habitat for all type of wild critters in the tangle of the limbs, and an especially good hiding place for our dogs when they play, not to mention a wonderful breeding ground for the burs and ticks they bring home. Remarkably, the branches are still green and it actually looks like a thicket. But, I know it isn’t a thicket, and if we lived in the city limits I’m sure we would be breaking a city ordinance.

Anyway, did you get that important part? School starts next week! Where did the summer go? In just a matter of a few days my baby will be starting eighth grade. It isn’t just summer-time that races by. The older I get, the more time seems to pass exponentially. Last month was winter, last year my daughter was learning to walk, or so it seems. I had planned on accomplishing more this summer - like taking care of that fallen tree for one. Who am I kidding? I had planned on accomplishing more with my life by the time I got this old.

John Lennon said “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.“ But, my Pastor puts it another way. In his message this past Sunday he said, “We can’t see the significance of our ordinary days.” I agree with him. All my days seem to blend together in a blur with nothing of great value to mark one from another. Oh, there’s an occasional blip of importance, but for the most part, I just live.

What’s the point? Life passes us quickly. As Jamie also said on Sunday “The joy of living by faith is only discovered by looking for the will of God in each day.” I am determined not to beat myself up for my not-accomplishments, but to live by faith, seeking the will of God every day and to celebrate the things that make up all my ordinary days. I would like to encourage you to join me.

The Sparkly Countenance of a Girlfriend

Today I enjoyed a little email gab-fest with some long-time college friends. Michele started the string with “I am sad :-( “ in the subject line. Normally we keep in touch at least weekly, but this summer it has been sporadic at best and we've missed each other. We are like the Olympic rings; five interconnected, neverending circles. Alone quite complete, but together we are something special, beautiful and tres fabulous. When we’re together I feel like hyper-Joan; me, only more so, if that makes sense. Any good traits in me are magnified in their reflection. In my opinion Annie Gottlieb had it right when she said “We challenge one another to be funnier and smarter…It’s the way friends make love to one another.” It’s true these friends challenge me to use my brain in a different manner than in my day to day life. As one of my sociology professors would say, they encourage me to take a lateral arabesque. Now, I don’t know that the phrase literally translates very well, but she meant to look at things differently.

After the first round of emails I learned that this has been one heck of a busy summer for all of us. Some good, some not so good, but unfortunately that is the way of life on this earth. Once we caught up it didn’t take us long to get back in the groove. Oh how I’ve missed their droll repartee. Pretty soon the upper atmosphere was swarming with witty one-liners flying through the airwaves to land on our computer monitors from miles away.

I am so fortunate to have these smart and funny girlfriends. But I am also very fortunate to have other friends far in distance, but close to my heart, and a gaggle of girlfriends here in my hometown who are all smart and funny. They are all special to me, supportive, loving, able to sustain me in times of trouble, and at the same time they know they can lean on me in their own distress. As iron sharpens iron so we friends hone each other to be our best. Like facets cut in a gemstone, we cut and polish each other so we will shine and sparkle with the brilliance that God intended.

Proverbs 27:17 (NKJV) As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.

Weird, In A Good Way

I’m weird. That’s not news to me. According to my 13 year old daughter everything I do; in every facet of my life reiterates this fact to her. I don’t necessarily agree with her assessment, but that’s not what bothers me. I mean, if I squench my eyes real tight and go into a semi-trance, I can remember long, long ago, back to the dark ages when I was about 13. While I never would have told my mother she was weird, she certainly had her moments. I have heard, I think from one of my brother-in-laws, that it’s our job, our parental duty to embarrass our children. So, I feel being weird puts me on the right track.

Here’s the problem. She cannot, or will not define my weirdness. To her it’s like art: she can’t explain it, but she knows it when she sees it. It could be that I like to sing; loudly, about everything. I like to say I have a song for every occasion, and an occasion for every song. Or, sometimes if the timing is right, I will repeat a line from a movie that I have particularly liked, or from a hymn or quote a little scripture. I try to talk to her about how tough it is to be a 13 year old girl, so she should be nice to everyone; only to be met with that special look of disdain that 13 year old girls have worked into an art form. It could be something as simple as my stash of notebooks that I get for just $1 at Michaels. There’s just no telling.

A few weeks ago, after hearing for about the 47th bazillion time that I am weird, she said it again. I guess the 47 bazillion and first time was my limit. I got out one of my many handy-dandy notebooks (I know, that term also denotes my weirdness) and started writing down all the other words that she could use in place of “weird.” I hadn’t realized what a prolific adjective the word is, and there are some really great words that could replace it. Words like: bizarre, strange, peculiar, abnormal, eccentric, odd, and creepy.

When I was finished I tore the list out of my notebook and handed it to her. Guess her response? You got it! She said “You’re weird.”

I think about this list of words a lot. Mostly because I’m weird about 30 times a day. It really gets under my skin, there are so many wonderfully descriptive words in the world, why would she limit herself to just this one?

Then I had a little “DUH” moment. I go through life stuck in a rut, thinking the same way as always - like an old dog (no harsh comments here please) trying to learn new tricks. God wants me to grow more and more in his likeness, and yet I resist because his way is weird. His thoughts are not like my thoughts and neither are his ways my ways. God has, not just a list, but a book of the better way, yet sometimes I still resist transformation because it’s different.

Isaiah 55:8 "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord.

Too Blessed for Stress

I’ve been feeling frustrated and stressed lately. There seems to be an endless list of things calling for my attention and I don’t make much headway in completing any of them. Right now, my kitchen is clean, but there’s laundry to do, and the entire kitchen table is loaded with junk to sort through. This spot has become the dumping ground for all the stuff I just don’t know what to do with, and it has been accumulating for several months. I have boxes and boxes of old photographs stacked all over the family room that I need to sneak back into my mother’s house - I “borrowed” them to make a tribute video for her birthday, which was yesterday, but the video isn’t finished yet either. Luckily, my sister is coming in town from Iowa next week so I have given myself a week’s grace period. Our refrigerator is on the fritz, so we currently have several coolers on the kitchen floor and countertop, trying to keep my Diet Coke cold, and the salmonella at bay. And at every turn, my 13 year old daughter whines that she’s bored and that there’s nothing to do and why don’t I ever buy any food at the grocery? More importantly, my beloved mother-in-law passed away two weeks ago. We miss her beautiful spirit and presence. She was one of God’s beloved daughters. Proverbs 31 could have been written with her in mind.

Yep, if stress could be measured on a thermometer, I believe I would be smack dab in the middle of a heat wave; a spiritual Sahara. I vented a little of my frustration a couple of days ago via email to some new friends I made at the She Speaks conference. I’ve been a little distressed that I didn’t hear back from anyone. I tried not to think about it, but the less I tried to think about it the more attention it demanded from my getting-mushier-by-the-minute grey matter.

In the mornings lately I have begun to read my way through the Psalms again, and as I read I pray for God to speak to me through the scripture. The other day I was reading Psalm 18. Verses 30-31, and 50 set up camp in my head. Psalm 18:30-31 reads

“As for God, his way is perfect; the word of the Lord is flawless. He is a shield for all who take refuge in him. For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God?”
And in verse 50
…”he shows unfailing kindness to his anointed, to David and his descendants forever.”

God IS unfailingly kind and patient with me, so why do I still let the troubles of the world weigh me down? I have claimed these verses and thanked God for his truth.

This morning I felt very hopeful as I checked my email for the hundredth time since I sent out my little SOS. I signed in and clicked on the “check messages” icon but to no avail. I signed out and had a wee little pity party for myself. Okay, not really a pity party, more like a sinking, deflated feeling. But then, I had a little nudge to check my spam folder. I never look through the spam, but I did today. And there it was, several sweet and reassuring messages of encouragement. And, once again, I am floored by my God who sends agents in his stead to show his unfailing kindness and love. God is so good to me! I will never understand why He has given me so many wonderful friends, old and new, silver and gold. But, I am ever thankful. And, I pray that I will be the friend they deserve back.