I used to write
Long ago
Before I knew what
Pain and joy really were
Rhymes and passion
In perfect syllabic lines
Bridled dreams
In iambic pentameter
Has it been ten years?
Or eons?
Awaken, old friend:
Life is beautiful.
Dust off your adjectives
And nouns.
We have much to talk about.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
procrastination
This is exactly what getting things done has looked like for me these past few weeks. I will get everything I need to sit down and get something accomplished, only to piddle my time away at something completely nonessential . *sigh* I love my life :)
I've put off studying, laundry, time with friends, time with Jesus, and about a dozen other things to do things like study, do laundry, spend time with friends, linger over some scripture, or do a dozen little odd-jobs that caught my attention at the moment. So, whilst I sit here and drink my tall Pike Place w/vanilla, 2 packs of Splenda, and extra creamer at Starbucks and pointedly ignore the textbook sitting next to my cup, I am going to vent just a little about a recent corner I turned this Easter. I've been approaching this corner with Jesus for some time now, and after reading some Facebook posts over the past 24 hours, it feels like some others could use a taste of the slice of life on my plate at the moment.
Procrastination and rushing go together like peanut butter and jelly (or apple pie and ice cream if you have peanut allergies). We rush only to procrastinate, and we procrastinate only to find ourselves rushing. There is no more powerful and destructive force than procrastination in relationships. I feel that there is not any relationship that is excluded here, but for the sake of this vent, I'm going to zoom in on romantic relationships. Let me dig a little deeper for you. . .
How do we "rush to procrastinate" in relationships? In American society today, all we do is rush. We don't know any longer what it is to wait for something, to log in the time, effort, and energy into something that is important to us. We want what we want and we want it now. We rush head-first into the deep end of a romance, playing house with people when we stay the night with them or go grocery shopping with them, talking about all the things we want to do and to have when we "settle down." We open ourselves up like a 24-hour, all-you-can-eat super buffet (think Golden Corral), figuring/hoping/praying that this person will surely find something appealing enough to stick around for. Within a few short days we feel the euphoria of being adored, and get hooked on that feeling. Our ego is fed by all this attention, gorging to the point of gluttony. And then comes the burn-out. As quick as it came into our lives, it leaves and we are crushed. We feel rejected, unlovable, and undesirable.
However, if we were completely honest, deep down inside in that place that we don't like to admit we have that always seems to know what's best for us, we knew what we were rushing into wasn't going to last. We procrastinate in calling it quits. We wait, perhaps even diving deeper and faster into the abyss of infatuation, trying in vain to ignore that little voice inside of us that is saying, "this isn't going to last." We put off all wisdom out of fear of being alone or misunderstood or gossiped about. We ignore the red flags that tell us something is wrong instead of just calling it quits. Why do we do this? Why don't we just say, "DEUCES! I'm out!" if we're not so jazzed about Mr/Miss Wonderful anymore? Why do we stay in something we know is not going to just end, but its going to end painfully??
We procrastinate calling it quits because the same ego that gluttonously fed on all the attention is the same prideful monster that whines in protest at the idea of having to back-track over some of the things confessed in the high of an emotional moment, and say "just kidding! I'm not really feeling that way anymore." The pain of admitting we were wrong and that we made a mistake is a direct hit on our own pride and self-love to someone we barely know. And that my friends, is way more excruciating than being dumped in the eyes of that green-eyed lizard called PRIDE. Please don't think I am excluding myself here - I have a few of these t-shirts from 30-day shelf-life "Mr. Wonderfuls" in my drawer of exes. *smh*
**Now don't misunderstand me - I am not saying we shouldn't love and respect ourselves. As a child of God, we have value and worth beyond any earthly price - God gave His only Son for us. Pride and self-worth are two different things. If you require an in-depth discussion of the difference, please feel free to email me. At one point, I also required a deeper explanation and had a wonderful, grace-focused, Jesus-loving person to guide me through to a clear understanding between pride and my identity in Christ. I would love to pay it forward and share what I learned.**
Then, we have the procrastination only to find ourselves rushing relationships. We meet someone and are fearful - paralyzingly fearful - of the possibility of being rejected by that person because they are so amazing/intelligent/funny/etc so we never, ever, EVER say a word. We put it off, maybe never speak to them, or maybe only in passing. Or worse, maybe we are super masochistic and decide to try and be their friend. Maybe we work with them, or our kids go to the same school, or we go to the same coffee shop. Geez, I've seen this in all shapes and sizes. . .I've done it in various forms myself. I'm queen of the Fear hive. . . anyways, let me stay on my train of thought here. . . so we have procrastinated just being honest and then run around trying to pretend we don't feel anything for this other person by serial-dating. Our hope is that the next relationship we snuff out the candle we're pretending we're not burning, and all will be well again in our little corner of the universe. Nope, my friends. 'Fraid not. We just end up on the "rushing-to-procrastinate" roller coaster instead. Is anyone with me here? I bet so.
Here we are at the corner I've turned. If you've read this far, you're either really lost and bored or you're nodding your head and thinking about the t-shirts, roller coasters, and tears you've racked up in this game yourself. This intersection is at the roads of "Patience" and "Procrastinate." Stay with me a little longer. . .you're this far, may as well see it to the end, right?
At the intersection of "Patience" and "Procrastinate" we can choose which way to lead our hearts. We can turn down the road of "Procrastinate" and feed our flesh and pride with all kinds of instant gratification, like the quick pick-me-ups found in convenience store foods and energy drinks. We can ignore how unhealthy the wares are that the shops that line this road tempt us with, and simply plod on, existing from one temporary high to the next. We can put off being mature and wise and bold and honest just so we have a warm body with a pulse to tell us how wonderful we are.
Or, we can do a 180 and turn down the road of "Patience" where we sit a fine restaurants and wait for delectable feasts that are nourishing and painstakingly prepared and never served in a plastic sack or pushed through a drive-thru window. We can stroll down this road side-by-side with other travelers or alone, completely content with the leg of the journey we're on and not rely on the validation of others that we're going in right direction. We can weave in and out of delightful experiences without unrealistic expectations or grandiose delusions and just be thankful we had the moment or moments to appreciate how beautiful humanity, in all its imperfection, truly is.
Here, on this road, we wait patiently for life to bring someone into our lives that is already on the same road, headed in the same direction, that we can share the journey with. We can stroll together and wade into the ocean of love and forever one toe at time, all the while feeling safe and free to come and go as we please. On the road of "Patience" we ave freedom and courage to be different. We don't have to be like everyone else. We can draw the line and say "up to here you may come, but no further" with boldness and peace because we know that while it may sting to see someone walk away, that sting lasts only a moment and then we're glad to see them go because we've felt deeper and darker pain on the road of "Procrastination" and we're done with that road.
My road of patience isn't all sunshine and daisies, and I don't expect it to be. But it sure beats the anxiety and self-loathing I felt on the path I have been on for nearly ten years. I hate to see women (and some men) put themselves through this over and over again. I wish people would realize how special they are and raise their standards a little (or a lot). I wish they'd stop putting themselves out there so quickly physically and emotionally and protect what is valuable - their own hearts. You bet if their heart was that $600 million lottery ticket they'd be a great deal more careful who put their hands on it. The shame of it is, their heart is infinitely more valuable than that lottery ticket. If only some people lived in that truth instead of the lies the world tells them.
Monday, March 26, 2012
broken {hinge}
Have you ever seen a door - of any kind - with a broken hinge? With more than one broken hinge? Car doors, front doors, patio doors, French doors, cabinets, cupboards, refrigerators, freezers, garage doors, take your pick. Until that hinge is repaired, it just doesn't work correctly does it? The door swings back and forth, sure. But us it secure? Is it keeping it's contents safe? Is it protecting what's behind it from the elements, whatever they might be, from weather to toddlers?
What if what was behind the door was priceless, and one singular door-opening event caused a hinge to break, leading to a cascading series of events that caused tremendous damage time and time again to the priceless contents? What if the haphazard swinging on that broken hinge was just accepted, resigning the door to a fate of disrepair, destined to be a shoddy sentinel of the precious treasure it is nevertheless responsible for guarding?
What if that door was on our heart, and the treasure is our joy, hope, and love? What if we were brave enough to prayerfully seek out the event (or events, if you're like me!) that broke us, caused us to trade the truth in for a lie, and ultimately led us down a painful path of poor choices and self-loathing? What if when we found it, we gave it to Jesus to repair, restore, and redeem? What would that look like? What would WE look like? To ourselves, and to the world?
To be continued....
What if what was behind the door was priceless, and one singular door-opening event caused a hinge to break, leading to a cascading series of events that caused tremendous damage time and time again to the priceless contents? What if the haphazard swinging on that broken hinge was just accepted, resigning the door to a fate of disrepair, destined to be a shoddy sentinel of the precious treasure it is nevertheless responsible for guarding?
What if that door was on our heart, and the treasure is our joy, hope, and love? What if we were brave enough to prayerfully seek out the event (or events, if you're like me!) that broke us, caused us to trade the truth in for a lie, and ultimately led us down a painful path of poor choices and self-loathing? What if when we found it, we gave it to Jesus to repair, restore, and redeem? What would that look like? What would WE look like? To ourselves, and to the world?
To be continued....
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Daring to dream big by starting small
My divorce papers were mailed out yesterday.
For someone who never intended to be divorced once, I must confess that twice has broken something deep within me. I've been sad before, and I've experienced heartache and grief and loss. But this time, my heart shatters because God's heart is breaking too. That being said, I may not be where I intended to go, but I think I've ended up where I needed to be. God has been so faithful to provide for my every need, and the peace I have in Jesus sustains me and fills me with joy.
I'm in counseling with my church and have surrounded myself with positive people I can be transparent and completely myself with as I try to figure out the finer details of who that really is. For the last ten years I consumed myself with being what everyone else expected, doing what they expected of me, never asking myself what I really wanted. Or at least I was too scared to listen to myself, which again, in the spirit of transparency is probably closer to the truth.
My mother would disagree with my choice to share that I am in counseling but let's be honest - we could all use a little therapy now and then. Depression sucks and in the words of Reba, "the world doesn't stop for my broken heart." It keeps turning and my responsibilities don't take breaks. It has been so beneficial for me to have a safe place to face some of the unhealed hurts that have been the impetus behind so many poor decisions. I am thankful daily for the grace that saved me, and for my Savior's unconditional love. I'm learning how to live in freedom of His grace. I'm far from perfect, but I'm also learning that it's okay - I have a perfect God. So if sharing my journey makes some people judge me or choose to treat me differently, God's in control and I'm not worried because if even just one person is encouraged in their journey with depression and anxiety and surrenders themselves to Jesus to find healing and hope, it is worth it.
My most important lesson at the beginning of my journey was to get rid of the ridiculously high expectations I had for myself and others and set expectations more on line with my reality. A year later, I'm here to tell you I have been less stressed, less disappointed, and have felt more peaceful in my spirit. I actually laugh more as a result of more realistic expectations because it allows me to see the humor in the situation when things don't go my way. Who would've thought?
So today a dear friend helped me get to a place of acceptance in something tremendous. She knows the fear I've had of never being enough in just about any endeavor (motherhood, career, relationships), and how many tears I've cried over the past couple of years. This afternoon she bluntly asked as I was rambling about life's latest adventures balancing motherhood, my last year of nursing school, and living in a three-generation home: "well who is taking care of you while you take care of everyone else trying to be 'enough' for them? What about someone being 'enough' for you?" This kind of honesty is a key feature in all of my friendships! We figure if the truth hurts, then you definitely needed to hear it. And wow, I needed that truth today!
She helped me take ownership of my right to dream big and not settle. At the moment, there are so many great things on my horizon with graduation looming, and I have the right to happiness and dreams fulfilled. Something quite unexpected has fallen into my lap recently, and while I haven't the faintest idea where it will go, I'm allowing myself to take hold of dreams I had previously come to terms with never coming to fruition. I am allowing myself this one little thing to pray for each day, taking deep breaths and baby steps, and not suffocating my own hope out of fear of disappointment. This small thing may indeed never lead to something big. . .but then, what if it does? No matter what, I will laugh (It's what I do best) and not let go of dreaming big ever again. It's an absolutely delicious feeling.
For someone who never intended to be divorced once, I must confess that twice has broken something deep within me. I've been sad before, and I've experienced heartache and grief and loss. But this time, my heart shatters because God's heart is breaking too. That being said, I may not be where I intended to go, but I think I've ended up where I needed to be. God has been so faithful to provide for my every need, and the peace I have in Jesus sustains me and fills me with joy.
I'm in counseling with my church and have surrounded myself with positive people I can be transparent and completely myself with as I try to figure out the finer details of who that really is. For the last ten years I consumed myself with being what everyone else expected, doing what they expected of me, never asking myself what I really wanted. Or at least I was too scared to listen to myself, which again, in the spirit of transparency is probably closer to the truth.
My mother would disagree with my choice to share that I am in counseling but let's be honest - we could all use a little therapy now and then. Depression sucks and in the words of Reba, "the world doesn't stop for my broken heart." It keeps turning and my responsibilities don't take breaks. It has been so beneficial for me to have a safe place to face some of the unhealed hurts that have been the impetus behind so many poor decisions. I am thankful daily for the grace that saved me, and for my Savior's unconditional love. I'm learning how to live in freedom of His grace. I'm far from perfect, but I'm also learning that it's okay - I have a perfect God. So if sharing my journey makes some people judge me or choose to treat me differently, God's in control and I'm not worried because if even just one person is encouraged in their journey with depression and anxiety and surrenders themselves to Jesus to find healing and hope, it is worth it.
My most important lesson at the beginning of my journey was to get rid of the ridiculously high expectations I had for myself and others and set expectations more on line with my reality. A year later, I'm here to tell you I have been less stressed, less disappointed, and have felt more peaceful in my spirit. I actually laugh more as a result of more realistic expectations because it allows me to see the humor in the situation when things don't go my way. Who would've thought?
So today a dear friend helped me get to a place of acceptance in something tremendous. She knows the fear I've had of never being enough in just about any endeavor (motherhood, career, relationships), and how many tears I've cried over the past couple of years. This afternoon she bluntly asked as I was rambling about life's latest adventures balancing motherhood, my last year of nursing school, and living in a three-generation home: "well who is taking care of you while you take care of everyone else trying to be 'enough' for them? What about someone being 'enough' for you?" This kind of honesty is a key feature in all of my friendships! We figure if the truth hurts, then you definitely needed to hear it. And wow, I needed that truth today!
She helped me take ownership of my right to dream big and not settle. At the moment, there are so many great things on my horizon with graduation looming, and I have the right to happiness and dreams fulfilled. Something quite unexpected has fallen into my lap recently, and while I haven't the faintest idea where it will go, I'm allowing myself to take hold of dreams I had previously come to terms with never coming to fruition. I am allowing myself this one little thing to pray for each day, taking deep breaths and baby steps, and not suffocating my own hope out of fear of disappointment. This small thing may indeed never lead to something big. . .but then, what if it does? No matter what, I will laugh (It's what I do best) and not let go of dreaming big ever again. It's an absolutely delicious feeling.
Monday, November 7, 2011
{salt}
I recently discovered Pinterest. Yeah, like I needed another online distraction. However, I have found some really fantastic things on there. I've been motivated, inspired, and encouraged by an amazing array of pictures, quotes, and projects. My favorite so far, though, is a painting of the ocean with the quote:
"The cure for anything is salt water.....sweat, tears, or the sea."
I have it saved as the background on my laptop, and it reminds me that suffering is a cleansing process that includes peace and rest. Studies have been made of tears and sweat and it has been published that there are toxins in our sweat and tears. And because our body water is slightly salty in chemical composition, when we sweat and cry, the fluid is salty to the taste. We all know, too that the ocean is salty and that swimming in the ocean is much better on our bodies than swimming in chlorinated and heavily chemical-laden swimming pools - hence the birth of the salt water swimming pool. The calming effects of the ocean have been widely acclaimed and millions of dollars have been made and spent on sound machines to help us land-locked folk reap the stress-relieving benefits of its rhythmic pounding surf.
I personally find my spirit a little restless when I have been away from the ocean for extended periods without vacation time. There is just something that stills my spirit when I sit in soft sand and watch the sun rise or set, with the soothing music of the waves breaking and crashing, then softly rolling up onto the shore. It is a very dynamic illustration of the ever-changing world we live in. Nothing comes to stay. It only comes to pass. The sun rises and sets independent of my feelings and needs. Watching the earth go about its business sitting on a beach, where one part of the earth meets another in a timeless repetition of what God set in motion at Creation, encourages me when my heart is feeling hopeless. I'm reminded that nothing stands still. Waters ebb. Darkness fades. It teaches me how to be wise and watch my step when things threaten to hurt my feet or knock me down, and how to batten down the hatches and ride the storm out. Goodness, I could go on and on with illustrations, but I will stop here. You get the idea. :-)
I am doing a verse by verse study of 1 Peter currently, on a personal journey to understand God's purpose for seasons of suffering. Romans 8:28 teaches me that God doesn't waste my tears. I'm learning in 1 Peter that my tears (and sweat, too!) of suffering refine my faith, and that I should rejoice and be thankful for these sufferings because of the work they allow the Holy Spirit to do within me. Since 2007, I have cried and sweat gallons of salt water over changes and challenges in my son's and my life surviving as a single parent, improving my own health, and throughout my calling to go to nursing school and get my RN. The closer I get to God, the easier I find it is to rejoice and remain joyful and at peace, even in the darkest hours. Its when I am not intentionally and strategically putting myself in His presence through prayer, reading/memorizing God's word, and not having the blessing and encourage of godly fellowship with other believers do I find myself feeling the waves of depression threatening to overtake me again.
The bible tells me that as a believer and disciple of Christ, I am the salt of the earth. So it follows in light of Romans 8:28 (and many other verses of encouragement and exhortation) that the Lord uses tears and sweat during times of prayerful desperation or exaltation to salt the earth for His glory, never my own. What a glorious thing to think on! Let that simmer for a minute. . . .God chooses humanity - ALL of humanity - at Calvary to be His children, not because ALL of humanity FOREVER has done anything to deserve it, but because HE LOVES US. His choice had nothing to do with my choice to surrender myself to Jesus my senior year of high school. God knew at Calvary what a mess I am. How broken I am. How stubborn and prideful I can be. But He loves me anyway, and if I make myself available, will use me as a part of His purpose and plan to draw humanity closer to Him. The fact that I know what a mess I am, and God knows me better than I do, humbles me beyond description when I think about Him using me to encourage and uplift and exhort another. But that's what He does. I have seen it not only in my life, but in others' lives too. Somewhere, at some point, the Lord will bring someone who needs a slice of Victoria's experience in how Jesus led her through something so that they can get through it too. Its not about me telling them what I did, what my efforts or talents managed to do for me, but what my surrender to Jesus did and what Jesus did through me.
Lord, let me not lose my saltiness. Yes, that means my sweat of discipline and tears of suffering may never really stop, only ebb temporarily, but I'm okay with that. Why? Because I've been blessed abundantly with disciples of Christ that shared with me a slice of their salty experiences and that encouraged me and helped me surrender to You, Father. Thank you for seasons of suffering. Thank you for challenges that drive me to my knees, praying in desperation for Your provision. I praise You for the provision You have given me and my little family, showing the world - the lost and the found alike - how powerful and loving You truly are. Lord, whatever Your plan is, wherever that takes us, I offer my life as a living sacrifice to You. I give You all my plans for myself; I lay my expectations of life, my ideas of perfection and success, at Your feet, and nail my self-driven dreams to the Cross. Father, protect my little family during times of persecution for following You. By the blood of Christ, I cover my family from all Satan's attempts to steal, kill, and destroy. I proclaim peace over my family, and intentionally devote my heart to focus on the living hope of abundant life in Christ. I confess my fear, anger, pride, bitterness, and laziness and pray for strength and boldness to fulfill the Great Commission in all areas of my life - my relationships, my health, my finances, and my spiritual disciplines. Lord, I can't do it on my own, but You can through me. I pray for eyes and a heart more like His today than yesterday. In the powerful name of Jesus I pray, Amen.
"The cure for anything is salt water.....sweat, tears, or the sea."
I have it saved as the background on my laptop, and it reminds me that suffering is a cleansing process that includes peace and rest. Studies have been made of tears and sweat and it has been published that there are toxins in our sweat and tears. And because our body water is slightly salty in chemical composition, when we sweat and cry, the fluid is salty to the taste. We all know, too that the ocean is salty and that swimming in the ocean is much better on our bodies than swimming in chlorinated and heavily chemical-laden swimming pools - hence the birth of the salt water swimming pool. The calming effects of the ocean have been widely acclaimed and millions of dollars have been made and spent on sound machines to help us land-locked folk reap the stress-relieving benefits of its rhythmic pounding surf.
I personally find my spirit a little restless when I have been away from the ocean for extended periods without vacation time. There is just something that stills my spirit when I sit in soft sand and watch the sun rise or set, with the soothing music of the waves breaking and crashing, then softly rolling up onto the shore. It is a very dynamic illustration of the ever-changing world we live in. Nothing comes to stay. It only comes to pass. The sun rises and sets independent of my feelings and needs. Watching the earth go about its business sitting on a beach, where one part of the earth meets another in a timeless repetition of what God set in motion at Creation, encourages me when my heart is feeling hopeless. I'm reminded that nothing stands still. Waters ebb. Darkness fades. It teaches me how to be wise and watch my step when things threaten to hurt my feet or knock me down, and how to batten down the hatches and ride the storm out. Goodness, I could go on and on with illustrations, but I will stop here. You get the idea. :-)
I am doing a verse by verse study of 1 Peter currently, on a personal journey to understand God's purpose for seasons of suffering. Romans 8:28 teaches me that God doesn't waste my tears. I'm learning in 1 Peter that my tears (and sweat, too!) of suffering refine my faith, and that I should rejoice and be thankful for these sufferings because of the work they allow the Holy Spirit to do within me. Since 2007, I have cried and sweat gallons of salt water over changes and challenges in my son's and my life surviving as a single parent, improving my own health, and throughout my calling to go to nursing school and get my RN. The closer I get to God, the easier I find it is to rejoice and remain joyful and at peace, even in the darkest hours. Its when I am not intentionally and strategically putting myself in His presence through prayer, reading/memorizing God's word, and not having the blessing and encourage of godly fellowship with other believers do I find myself feeling the waves of depression threatening to overtake me again.
The bible tells me that as a believer and disciple of Christ, I am the salt of the earth. So it follows in light of Romans 8:28 (and many other verses of encouragement and exhortation) that the Lord uses tears and sweat during times of prayerful desperation or exaltation to salt the earth for His glory, never my own. What a glorious thing to think on! Let that simmer for a minute. . . .God chooses humanity - ALL of humanity - at Calvary to be His children, not because ALL of humanity FOREVER has done anything to deserve it, but because HE LOVES US. His choice had nothing to do with my choice to surrender myself to Jesus my senior year of high school. God knew at Calvary what a mess I am. How broken I am. How stubborn and prideful I can be. But He loves me anyway, and if I make myself available, will use me as a part of His purpose and plan to draw humanity closer to Him. The fact that I know what a mess I am, and God knows me better than I do, humbles me beyond description when I think about Him using me to encourage and uplift and exhort another. But that's what He does. I have seen it not only in my life, but in others' lives too. Somewhere, at some point, the Lord will bring someone who needs a slice of Victoria's experience in how Jesus led her through something so that they can get through it too. Its not about me telling them what I did, what my efforts or talents managed to do for me, but what my surrender to Jesus did and what Jesus did through me.
Lord, let me not lose my saltiness. Yes, that means my sweat of discipline and tears of suffering may never really stop, only ebb temporarily, but I'm okay with that. Why? Because I've been blessed abundantly with disciples of Christ that shared with me a slice of their salty experiences and that encouraged me and helped me surrender to You, Father. Thank you for seasons of suffering. Thank you for challenges that drive me to my knees, praying in desperation for Your provision. I praise You for the provision You have given me and my little family, showing the world - the lost and the found alike - how powerful and loving You truly are. Lord, whatever Your plan is, wherever that takes us, I offer my life as a living sacrifice to You. I give You all my plans for myself; I lay my expectations of life, my ideas of perfection and success, at Your feet, and nail my self-driven dreams to the Cross. Father, protect my little family during times of persecution for following You. By the blood of Christ, I cover my family from all Satan's attempts to steal, kill, and destroy. I proclaim peace over my family, and intentionally devote my heart to focus on the living hope of abundant life in Christ. I confess my fear, anger, pride, bitterness, and laziness and pray for strength and boldness to fulfill the Great Commission in all areas of my life - my relationships, my health, my finances, and my spiritual disciplines. Lord, I can't do it on my own, but You can through me. I pray for eyes and a heart more like His today than yesterday. In the powerful name of Jesus I pray, Amen.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
At my kitchen table
I have this farmhouse-style table I was handed down from my brother. It has white legs and a butcher-block top. I absolutely adore it. Because it has seen so much, the surface is worn and gouged in places. There are nicks in the legs and I'm missing two of the six chairs. However, all these things only add to it's charm: it has weathered three families (that I know of) and half a dozen or so relocations and the marks it's life has left behind are a testimony to it's strength and resiliency.
Presently, my table is at a friend's house. While we were forced to sell all our furniture except my son's when we moved into my mother's house due to lack of storage, somehow we managed to hold on to my table and a cabinet.
I read Hebrews 13:1-8 yesterday and verse 2 is sticking with me: "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it."
I'm learning how to broaden my perception of serving and loving like Jesus by shaking off the misconception that modern conveniences like cars and cell phones are now a necessity to serve in the name of Jesus. And now, that list includes my kitchen table.
It's just a piece of furniture. It's not supernaturally blessed by the Holy Spirit to bestow peace in hearts by osmosis when someone sits at my table, props their arms on it to hold up the hands that are mug-hugging the cup of hot coffee, or when someone lays their head in their hands to sprinkle it's worn surface with tears of fear or frustration. Nope, it can do nothing. It doesn't have a heart or a soul sold-out to Jesus. It doesn't have arms or hands or a mouth. Yet I do have those things.....and I have my Jesus.
Has it been awhile since you were listened to? I mean really listened to? Come to my table....in my heart. Sit down. Relax. Listen to the coffee maker and smell the aroma of hot coffee beans. There's a bowl of apples on the table - they are cold because I just took them out of the fridge. But next to them, you see a small dish of Hershey's Kisses and maybe that sounds better to you....
We make small talk as I fill the small tray of coffee fixin's, and your eyes are focused somewhere in front of you, seeing but not seeing, and whispers on your heart battle for air-time like a tug-of-war between letting it all out or keeping it all inside. You see bible scriptures on the wall and those whispers find a new victim: belief in the truth of God's unconditional love. Maybe tears threaten your resolve then. Or maybe they do when you suddenly smell the pot roast in my slow-cooker as I lift the lid to check on it - it reminds you of your grandmother....Maybe what does you in is the box of tissues that is on the coffee tray I place on the table because it is an loving invitation to let go. Or maybe you manage to hold on a little longer and the dark whispers try to keep you in the dark by choosing the black coffee mug in a defiant gesture against the hope you're afraid to put faith into. Maybe it almost works and the tears are finally tucked and locked away....until you read the etching on the mug...it is Psalm 25....."guide me on your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long." Maybe that's when the tears begin to fall and you finally hear a kind voice say, "I can see you are hurting. What would you like to share about it?"
You feel safe at my kitchen table. Accepted. And loved. But it's not really a table, or coffee. It's not the chocolate or the pot roast. It's not even scriptures on the wall or on the coffee mug, and it most certainly isn't me. It's Jesus. It's the way He weaves faces and places together to love on people, give them hope, and free them from chains and shackles of heartache and pain.
Jesus can use anyone, anywhere, anytime. He doesn't require graduate school or country club memberships or six-figure salaries. All Jesus requires is a humble and obedient heart. He takes care of the rest.
So while my beloved kitchen table is not in my possession and I'm not in my own home to entertain freely, my heart is still my own. Lord, forgive me for my excuses. I shall open the doors of hospitality to my heart, and allow you to orchestrate circumstances to bring people to it that I may be a vessel of verbal hospitality where my physical circumstances limit me. Give me words of hope and love to speak, all for Your glory. Amen.
Presently, my table is at a friend's house. While we were forced to sell all our furniture except my son's when we moved into my mother's house due to lack of storage, somehow we managed to hold on to my table and a cabinet.
I read Hebrews 13:1-8 yesterday and verse 2 is sticking with me: "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some people have entertained angels without knowing it."
I'm learning how to broaden my perception of serving and loving like Jesus by shaking off the misconception that modern conveniences like cars and cell phones are now a necessity to serve in the name of Jesus. And now, that list includes my kitchen table.
It's just a piece of furniture. It's not supernaturally blessed by the Holy Spirit to bestow peace in hearts by osmosis when someone sits at my table, props their arms on it to hold up the hands that are mug-hugging the cup of hot coffee, or when someone lays their head in their hands to sprinkle it's worn surface with tears of fear or frustration. Nope, it can do nothing. It doesn't have a heart or a soul sold-out to Jesus. It doesn't have arms or hands or a mouth. Yet I do have those things.....and I have my Jesus.
Has it been awhile since you were listened to? I mean really listened to? Come to my table....in my heart. Sit down. Relax. Listen to the coffee maker and smell the aroma of hot coffee beans. There's a bowl of apples on the table - they are cold because I just took them out of the fridge. But next to them, you see a small dish of Hershey's Kisses and maybe that sounds better to you....
We make small talk as I fill the small tray of coffee fixin's, and your eyes are focused somewhere in front of you, seeing but not seeing, and whispers on your heart battle for air-time like a tug-of-war between letting it all out or keeping it all inside. You see bible scriptures on the wall and those whispers find a new victim: belief in the truth of God's unconditional love. Maybe tears threaten your resolve then. Or maybe they do when you suddenly smell the pot roast in my slow-cooker as I lift the lid to check on it - it reminds you of your grandmother....Maybe what does you in is the box of tissues that is on the coffee tray I place on the table because it is an loving invitation to let go. Or maybe you manage to hold on a little longer and the dark whispers try to keep you in the dark by choosing the black coffee mug in a defiant gesture against the hope you're afraid to put faith into. Maybe it almost works and the tears are finally tucked and locked away....until you read the etching on the mug...it is Psalm 25....."guide me on your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long." Maybe that's when the tears begin to fall and you finally hear a kind voice say, "I can see you are hurting. What would you like to share about it?"
You feel safe at my kitchen table. Accepted. And loved. But it's not really a table, or coffee. It's not the chocolate or the pot roast. It's not even scriptures on the wall or on the coffee mug, and it most certainly isn't me. It's Jesus. It's the way He weaves faces and places together to love on people, give them hope, and free them from chains and shackles of heartache and pain.
Jesus can use anyone, anywhere, anytime. He doesn't require graduate school or country club memberships or six-figure salaries. All Jesus requires is a humble and obedient heart. He takes care of the rest.
So while my beloved kitchen table is not in my possession and I'm not in my own home to entertain freely, my heart is still my own. Lord, forgive me for my excuses. I shall open the doors of hospitality to my heart, and allow you to orchestrate circumstances to bring people to it that I may be a vessel of verbal hospitality where my physical circumstances limit me. Give me words of hope and love to speak, all for Your glory. Amen.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
this caged bird is {SINGING}
Not having a car has some challenges in modern-day United States suburbia. Not many cities outside New England are very pedestrian-friendly or have adequate mass transit. It has been interesting and inspiring to see how creative God is in getting our needs met without a car of our own. I can't drive anyone's car in my family due to not being on their insurance, and no one really has the money to add me to their policy, so I don't even borrow a car. I've been 100% dependent on someone else to get to school, clinical rotations, the grocery store, or social and church activities. Let me tell you, this made for an interesting perspective on Thursday, my 30th birthday.
I haven't been this dependent on another person since I was 15. Where a lack of a personal vehicle has hit me the hardest is not being able to go and visit with people that need a friendly face and some encouragement. There are 5 people that I have not been able to visit and it really bugs me. I also have had difficulties getting to church, and the ripple effect of that is vulnerable hearts and minds to Satan's attacks on our joy. What I have learned though, is that God doesn't change His mind. He gave me a spiritual gift with my powers of speaking and encouraging others. Just because I don't have a car doesn't mean I'm silenced. Just because I can't fly doesn't mean I can't sing.
I have learned so much about accepting the soil the Lord planted you in as what is BEST for you at the moment - despite whatever expectations you might have for yourself of what is "best" for you. If it was best for me to have a vehicle right now, by golly I would have one. God's BEST for me right now is to be dependent on Him and learn how to encourage others without using not having a car as an excuse to not doing anything.
This experience has made me examine myself further and deeper as well. What else have I used as an excuse? My mistakes? My sins? My guilt? My fears? What other barriers have I placed in my own way of being obedient to the Lord's call? Have there been other ways in which I have put myself far outside God's will because I have forgotten I am a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17 ) and allowed the world's definitions of "useful" distort God's? God uses broken vessels all the time. Why? Because we are humble and dependent upon Him when we feel completely inadequate to the task He has laid before us. Otherwise, we'd prance around proud as peacocks proclaiming our own works instead of His.
This mini-mester was difficult. I was uncomfortable in the clinical environment because I felt like I had to imprison the disciple of Christ that I am and conform to something I'm not. I initially did not find my fellow students enjoyable to work with, and the rest of class made me feel excluded and unwanted. I had to pray everyday (sometimes several times an hour) for God's eyes for the current situation, and for something, ANYTHING, to keep me encouraged and motivated to learn. Only by His grace and mercy am I able to report that I have not just jumped over the hurdle that felled me this spring, but I've done it with flying colors: I made an A on the final exam, and received an A for the final grade in mental health nursing. I made some new friends after it was all said and done, and while it feels surreal still that I am officially moving past the second semester courses, I give all the praise and glory for this achievement to my Jesus. There isn't a moment that I wasn't in some way leaning completely on Him and it was His strength working through me that I was able to do all I needed to do to meet the demands of my classes and still have something worthwhile left over to give to my husband and son.
Our God is mighty to save! He is indescribably amazing in His power to help you overcome whatever mountain you are having to climb, valley you are having to crawl through, or storm you are having to weather. I can't tell you how freeing it has been to let go of my pride and fear and say time and time again, "Okay, Jesus. My family and friends are gonna think I'm nuts, and I'm scared to death but I'm facing that fear and squishing my pride and asking you to help me with _____." It has been freeing because all it took was one time for me to "let go and let God" and see Him do something powerful and impossible by human standards for me to keep turning to my Heavenly Father in faith. Each time I do let go and turn to Him, my faith gets stronger and stronger and waivers less and less like a ship on the sea being tossed about by waves of doubt ( James 1:6 ). My experiences give me boldness to pray and humbly proclaim His greatness, and also peace in my heart that somehow God will provide. My faith in Jesus is all that is necessary.
So, I sing. I sing with joy. I sing because I am free. I sing because my Jesus doesn't have material prerequisites of this world for me to serve Him. All He requires is my faith. I sing because I am dearly loved. I sing with love. Yes. Oh, yes. Even without a car, I sing.
I haven't been this dependent on another person since I was 15. Where a lack of a personal vehicle has hit me the hardest is not being able to go and visit with people that need a friendly face and some encouragement. There are 5 people that I have not been able to visit and it really bugs me. I also have had difficulties getting to church, and the ripple effect of that is vulnerable hearts and minds to Satan's attacks on our joy. What I have learned though, is that God doesn't change His mind. He gave me a spiritual gift with my powers of speaking and encouraging others. Just because I don't have a car doesn't mean I'm silenced. Just because I can't fly doesn't mean I can't sing.
I have learned so much about accepting the soil the Lord planted you in as what is BEST for you at the moment - despite whatever expectations you might have for yourself of what is "best" for you. If it was best for me to have a vehicle right now, by golly I would have one. God's BEST for me right now is to be dependent on Him and learn how to encourage others without using not having a car as an excuse to not doing anything.
This experience has made me examine myself further and deeper as well. What else have I used as an excuse? My mistakes? My sins? My guilt? My fears? What other barriers have I placed in my own way of being obedient to the Lord's call? Have there been other ways in which I have put myself far outside God's will because I have forgotten I am a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17 ) and allowed the world's definitions of "useful" distort God's? God uses broken vessels all the time. Why? Because we are humble and dependent upon Him when we feel completely inadequate to the task He has laid before us. Otherwise, we'd prance around proud as peacocks proclaiming our own works instead of His.
This mini-mester was difficult. I was uncomfortable in the clinical environment because I felt like I had to imprison the disciple of Christ that I am and conform to something I'm not. I initially did not find my fellow students enjoyable to work with, and the rest of class made me feel excluded and unwanted. I had to pray everyday (sometimes several times an hour) for God's eyes for the current situation, and for something, ANYTHING, to keep me encouraged and motivated to learn. Only by His grace and mercy am I able to report that I have not just jumped over the hurdle that felled me this spring, but I've done it with flying colors: I made an A on the final exam, and received an A for the final grade in mental health nursing. I made some new friends after it was all said and done, and while it feels surreal still that I am officially moving past the second semester courses, I give all the praise and glory for this achievement to my Jesus. There isn't a moment that I wasn't in some way leaning completely on Him and it was His strength working through me that I was able to do all I needed to do to meet the demands of my classes and still have something worthwhile left over to give to my husband and son.
Our God is mighty to save! He is indescribably amazing in His power to help you overcome whatever mountain you are having to climb, valley you are having to crawl through, or storm you are having to weather. I can't tell you how freeing it has been to let go of my pride and fear and say time and time again, "Okay, Jesus. My family and friends are gonna think I'm nuts, and I'm scared to death but I'm facing that fear and squishing my pride and asking you to help me with _____." It has been freeing because all it took was one time for me to "let go and let God" and see Him do something powerful and impossible by human standards for me to keep turning to my Heavenly Father in faith. Each time I do let go and turn to Him, my faith gets stronger and stronger and waivers less and less like a ship on the sea being tossed about by waves of doubt ( James 1:6 ). My experiences give me boldness to pray and humbly proclaim His greatness, and also peace in my heart that somehow God will provide. My faith in Jesus is all that is necessary.
So, I sing. I sing with joy. I sing because I am free. I sing because my Jesus doesn't have material prerequisites of this world for me to serve Him. All He requires is my faith. I sing because I am dearly loved. I sing with love. Yes. Oh, yes. Even without a car, I sing.
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