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Check Boxes and String Art

When I was in first grade, my art teacher gave us the awesomest project.  She brought in lots of baby food bottles filled with different colors of paint. And she brought in a huge pile of strings.  With a sparkle in her eye, she gave us all a piece of white paper, some string, and several bottles of different colored paints.  And then told us to paint – with NO paintbrushes!  We were supposed to dip the string in the colors, and then use them as paintbrushes on our paper.  We should take a string, dip it in blue, and make a curly-cue on our paper.  Once the string left its mark, we’d pick it up again, dip it in the blue and make another shape on the same paper.  We eventually added other colors, and by the end our papers had become a glorious first-grade masterpiece of curly-cued lines.  It was SO messy!  But so much fun (I mean, seriously – lots of fun!   After all, I remember it twenty-three years later!!).

Which is a little bit different than when I hit middle school and was handed an “assignment notebook” (a day planner).  We were to write down every one of our assignments, and then, our reward when we completed that assignment was to check it off.  So, I would draw little boxes beside the assignments and then, when I finished that assignment, I proudly put a check mark in the small box.  I always would feel SO accomplished and productive and valuable when I checked off those boxes.  Those little boxes motivated me like very little else (except maybe ice cream) could.

As an adult, I have to admit that learning how to use a day planner was very beneficial.  I definitely use one, though now it’s a little more sophisticated.

The thing is, it’s SO easy to go about life with a “day planner” mentality – especially as Christians.  We have to tithe (check).  We have to be nice to people (maybe check?).  We have to read the Bible (check last week).  We have to give to the poor (check – my church does that with my tithe).  And we have this crazy idea that if we check off all the boxes often enough, God will love us.

The thing is, HE LOVES US ALREADY..  It’s not about how many boxes you’ve checked off.  Or how much you’ve done.  You can’t earn God’s love.  You can only accept it with the joyful abandon of a first grader making creative, messy string art.

I know, I know, you can’t really compare string art and day planners, right?  They’re nothing like each other.  They don’t have the same purpose, look nothing like the other, in no way are they the same.  True statement.

But that’s kinda the point.  Living the Christian life in the day planner style is NOTHING LIKE living the Christian life in the string art style.  They don’t even have the same purpose.  One is messy, joyful, and can be given away (what first grader doesn’t love giving their art to their teacher or parents?).  The other is rigid, stressful, and all about YOU and what YOU’ve done.  Not very much room there for others – let alone GOD.

SO, go live a joyful, messy, love-filled string-art sort of faith.  And I know, telling you to go do that is a bit counter-productive because, really, you CAN’T do that without God.  Which is, I’ll admit, the point.  Ask Him to help you accept His love for you, embrace it, get messy with it, and then give it away.

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Warm Oatmeal and Moss Gowns

You Are

Picture found here 

I woke up this morning with the knowledge of how much I am loved.  There were no roses filling my room.  There was no special breakfast on the table.  There was no sweet note on the bathroom mirror.  But still, in the very core of me, has sat this warm-oatmeal feeling of being completely, totally, absolutely loved all morning long.

I’m pretty sure the cynics out there would say it’s just my hormones slightly outta whack.  But I know better.

I’m loved – deeply, passionately, love.  Like meat loves salt.

I know, that’s a weird way to say it.   Let me explain.  When I was a little girl who still wore dresses more days than not, I stumbled across this tale in the library, and it’s still one of my favorite children’s stories.  Right up there with The Velveteen Rabbit.

It’s kind of a Cinderella and King Lear combination, where the father has three daughters, is old, and is trying to figure out how to divide his wealth.  So, he asks his daughters how much they love him, figuring he could divide the wealth by the measure of how much they loved him.  The two eldest daughters told him wild stories of loving him more than jewels and riches, but it was the youngest daughter who loved him best.  In fact, it was she who actually even loved her father.  She tried to figure out a way to explain to her father how much she loved him that wouldn’t sound empty and fake, like her sisters’ false claims.  But the only thing that came to mind was how awful meat was without salt.  So, that’s what she told him – that she loved him more than meat loves salt.

I won’t ruin the rest story for you.  Go read it for yourselves.  It’s called Moss Gown and is written by William H. Hooks.

But that being said, I woke up this morning knowing God loves me like meat loves salt.

It has taken me a long time to actually believe that thought.  I know, I know, I’m a Christian girl. I grew up in a Christian household, shouldn’t I have known from a very young age that God loves me?

Well, when I was little, I did.  I knew it beyond a doubt.  But somewhere around the time I became a teenager, I began doubting.  And by the time I was in my mid-twenties, I was pretty convinced that God put me on this earth to be just an instrument of His love.  He didn’t love me as much as He loved everyone else, and part of the reason He created me was to show everyone else how much He loved them.  It was a pretty sick and twisted lie.

I knew it to be a lie, but here’s the thing.  Knowing something is a lie, and then NOT believing it are two very different things.  You might not think so, but they are.

I KNEW God loved me, but I sure didn’t believe it.  And I definitely didn’t feel it. But I wanted to believe He loved me.  I was desperate to believe it.   I wanted Him to do His “God thing”, point His finger at me, zap me with some heavenly electricity and fill me with the knowledge and warm fuzzy feeling of being loved.

But that’s not how God worked.  He waited until I was desperate and broken enough to actually be willing to believe He loved me.  He waited until I was alone, awake, witnessing the stars turn in their nightly orbits as tears cascaded down my face, asking about something else completely.

And then He sat me down and pretty much just hit me over the head with it.  There have been two times in my life when God told me something so powerfully that He practically turned me into a statue.  This was the second time.  I couldn’t move.  I was still crying, but I was crying tears of joy now.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt about His deep, crazy, unbridled love for me.  All I could do was sit there, watching the stars continue in their paths and letting the tears fall down my face.

There have been days when it’s easy to fall back into my old way of thinking, of believing the lie I know to be a lie.  If not in belief, at least in actions.  But once you know and believe something to be a lie, even if you forget for a bit, you remember the truth quickly.

Since that night, when people in interviews or whatever ask me what Jesus means to me, I can never find words.  I always have the problem of the youngest daughter in Moss Gown.  How can you possibly describe this kind of love?  You can’t.  So, you say the closest thing possible.  You say Jesus, to you, is like salt to meat.

And they just look at you weird.  But that’s okay.  Because you know that you know that you know that He loves YOU.  Inexplicably, crazily, unconditionally, passionately LOVES YOU.

I’m not writing this to boast of the God who created the universe’s love for me.  I’m writing this as a reminder.  Because, you see, the wonderful thing is He doesn’t just love me this way.

He loves you this way too.   I would try to convince you, but if you don’t already believe, there is literally nothing on this earth that I can do or say to get you to believe.  It’s between you and God.  I would love to give you a formula to help you understand and believe but we are all too original for God to work through formulas with us.  But, take my word for it – He really does love you.  Promise.  Ask Him to show you.  It might take a while (He has that whole “timing” thing down), but He will.

And when you know that He loves you, sometimes you wake up with the feeling, deep in your innermost core, of being passionately loved.  It makes you feel quiet and secure and snug inside, as if you just ate warm oatmeal.

And that, friends, is when the true adventure can begin!

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tick tock goes the clock

So, I had a cool topic for this week.

And then I sat down at Starbucks after church last Sunday to write about it, like I do….and it wouldn’t come out.  I mean, I tried writing it like four different ways, and the words I wanted to say, the point I wanted to make, just kept getting jumbled on the page.  It was as if the black of the words melted together and became some sort of ink blob.  They just wouldn’t come together right.  It was like trying to pull a weed out of a garden when the ground is baked hard and all you succeed in doing after pulling at the thing with all your might is breaking off the top part of the stem.  No good.

The time wasn’t right. The ground wasn’t soft; it wasn’t time to pull the weed.  The time wasn’t right to talk about what I wanted. The words are still stuck in the ground.  They’re all twisted around each other; all firmly baking beneath the hard soil.  And they’re still growing, still forming.  It’s not time to take pull them up yet.

And so, I’m going to wait to write about it.  It’ll come; I promise.  And maybe it’ll even be the best one yet.  Maybe it won’t.  But I’m waiting.

Because timing is everything.

I should know.

You know how there is a good time to say things to people, and a bad time?  Even if you say whatever it is you’ve got to get off your chest in the exact same way?  Same place, same tone of voice, same facial expression.  Same everything.  Different time – completely different reaction.

There are several people in my life that are kinda, sorta, potentially incredibly hard to talk to.

The hardest one is, to be very honest and meant with no disrespect whatsoever, is my father.   Depending on the day, if I tell him that his socks pulled up to his knees and being proudly displayed in his sandals are rather tacky-looking, that they might be, in fact, incredibly uncool, he has a couple possible reactions.  The first one is just plain laughter. That’s a good reaction. I had good timing.  I read his personal mood signals right.  But somedays I don’t read things right (or, to be honest, I’m too busy to care) and when I tell him his socks are a bit ridiculous, he storms out of the room, insanely angry and hurt, and slams a door or three.  Same words on my part, totally different reactions on his.  It’s all in the timing.

If two people are in the middle of a heart-felt conversation, and one of them pulls out a phone and starts texting someone else – very, very bad timing.  Seriously.  Whatever the texter had to say could probably have waited fifteen minutes.

You don’t ask a football player how his day has been right after he walks off a field where he just lost his game.  You don’t ask Mom for a couple of bucks for a new outfit right after she’s done the bills.  It’s just bad timing.

So, as you go through life, be careful of your timing.  Be aware of the people you interact with, what they’re going through, what mood they’re in.

But, also, be aware GOD has His own timing as well.  Don’t try to push it.  Be willing to wait for His perfect timing.  Be listening for His quiet voice to give you the “go” signal.  It comes in different forms – sometimes it feels like a rope tied around your chest pulling you somewhere.  Sometimes it’s just a gentle nudge in a direction.  Sometimes….it feels like a logical guess and a huge leap in faith.  So be aware that God directs us in different ways.

But, despite that not-so-minor detail, be willing to wait for the perfect timing.  Be sensitive to timing. Life will go so much better for you if you do.

 

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Plans and Sovereign Laughter

Butterfly!

School has started for all my teacher friends. Last year I was figuring out how to decorate wall panels and how to teach math, how exactly the temperamental copy machine works, and which seat each of my students would sit in for the first quarter.

But not this year.  This year is something new.  And while each year of the last six years has always had something new about this time of year, this year is something different.

This year I’m the student, not the teacher.

This year, I’m going to seminary.

No, not to become a pastor.  At least, not a head pastor of a church somewhere where I give a sermon every week.  I have no desire to do that.  But I do have a desire to love and serve and minister to people.  And while I already know how to do that, I’m going to school to learn how to do that better.  And mostly because, six years ago, God planted that seed in me.

See, when I graduated college, I kinda figured that was the end of education for me.  I never had any desire to go get a master’s degree.  At the time, I wasn’t even sure I could mentally handle it.  And I definitely didn’t want to try.  I was done.  I knew everyone else expected me to at some point, but I can be pretty good at ignoring people.

Plus, I had my life pretty much figured out.  Granted, life was already deviating slightly from the plan, but I figured that was a temporary thing.

The original plan was to get my teacher’s license, teach high school English for a couple years, pay off my college debts (ha!), and then go be a live-in tutor of sorts for some family on the mission field in the bush of Africa (does Africa even still have a bush?).  I was going to meet my husband on the mission field in the bush, and we’d get married under some tree somewhere in the bush, and then I’d teach our children wherever he was being a missionary (in the bush).

That was my plan.

And God laughed.

He sent me to college in Iowa instead of Colorado, like I had planned.  And THEN, He gave me the desire to get a minor in theater, along with earning my Teaching English major.  Which meant I spent an extra year in Iowa.  Plus I had a minor I had never intended on having.

And then, after I graduated, I went straight to the mission field.  No teaching in the States for a few years to pay off debts (yeah, as a teacher, that was never going to happen in just a few years).  But the living overseas thing ended up not being my long-term calling.  So I came home.  And was a third-grade aide for a year, and then…well, I’ve had a lot of jobs since then.

And now I’m going to Seminary, because the summer I came back from Bahrain God planted that in me, and now that seed has grown into a rather intriguing plant, declaring to me that it’s time.

All that to say, life is NOT how I planned it.  Life is NOT what I expected.

I’m not complaining.  It’s been quite the journey, and I’ve learned so much.  And I know God so much better than I ever dreamed, and I have so much more to learn.

I guess what I’m trying to say at the beginning of the school year is this:  Life is probably not going to go the way you expect.  Keep moving in the plans you have.  Keep pursuing them, but when God comes along and swipes them away from you, and when He replaces them with something crazy – don’t be alarmed.  Don’t even be surprised.  Just keep moving forward.

Keep moving.

Learn to enjoy the unknown and the surprise and even – yes – even the failure.

Hold everything with an open hand – it’s easier and less painful for God to switch things up on you that way.

Just remember that as Christ Reflections, it is our duty to bring Him glory.  And when you offer Him your life to do with as He pleases, He’ll do just that.  Trust Him; He’s great at planning adventures.

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Hairy Heart vs. Trust

I remember one very scary morning as a senior in high school when I noticed my father taking some pills, and I was informed he’d be missing school that day (he was a teacher at my high school).  I asked Mom about it, and apparently he had a medical condition they didn’t think they needed to tell me about because while it had potential to be life-threatening, they weren’t sure yet.

I spent most of that day trying not to cry, which didn’t work very well.  After all, everyone knew my father wasn’t at school, and that just didn’t happen.  My dad was one of those teachers you prayed daily would be gone so that you had a sub….and the kind that NEVER did.  If he got sick, he had some sort of deal with God that it was going to be over a weekend.  He wouldn’t want to cheat his students out of a single class with him.

So everyone asked where he was.  But, because of how little I knew, and because I grew up in a household of teachers and knew there’s just some stuff you can’t say to fellow students, I didn’t say much.  It was pretty easy, because anytime anyone would ask me anything, I’d have to swallow sobs, and tears would escape down my cheeks.  The kids wouldn’t ask anything after that.

Once, when one guy asked, I did get a “Oh, nothing” out.  But, the funny thing is, the very second I said that, I realized it had been the wrong answer.  He OBVIOUSLY knew something was up (I’m not the crying type), and he was just trying to comfort me.  And by not telling him, I had built walls between us.  I had essentially done what I was so angry at my parents for doing.

Instead of reaching out for the help that was offered; here I was, pushing everyone away.

I felt betrayed, abandoned, alone, and scared out of my senses.  I felt lied to, even though my parents hadn’t said anything.  Which was maybe the point – something huge was going on in our family, and they didn’t say anything.   They were trying to protect me.

Trying to protect me.

I hate those words.  While I understand the concept, I have never known those words to bring comfort and understanding.  In fact, I have only ever seen those words, or rather, the actions behind those words, do more harm than good.

And yeah, when faced with something hard, I’ve definitely had the first thought to protect those I love from whatever I’m facing.  Or I’ve had the thought that they really wouldn’t care.  Or that they didn’t need to be burdened with it.  Or wouldn’t understand.

But….but that’s not love.  That’s not community.  That’s not being open and vulnerable.

In fact, I’m going to go so far as to say that by NOT telling your close friends and family the heavy stuff, you’re preventing God from getting the glory He deserves when He works in the situation.  (Because, as long as the people involved are willing, God WILL work.  He WILL make all things good, and He WILL redeem the situation.  It might not be how you want or expect, but He will.  But ONLY if they let Him.)

But if you don’t tell the people that God has placed in your life what’s going on – what’s actually going on – you’re robbing them of seeing God work.  You’re robbing them of future joy.  And you’re making your journey harder on yourself.  You weren’t made to walk ANY part of this life by yourself.  We were made for community.  Might even be why Adam longed for Eve before God created her.  God never intended Adam to live alone.

But you have to be honest.  You have to say the hard stuff.  You have to be willing to say exactly where you are, what you’re feeling, if you even know.  To fake it, is wrong. You have to trust your friends to accept you AND your burden.  You have to trust God to hold your heart and the hearts of everyone connected to you.  You have to trust.

Which can seem so scary or impossible in the face of whatever else it is you’re facing.  But, in the long run, it’s better.  Promise.  Your relationship with God will be stronger.  Your friendships have potential to be stronger.  Your family has potential to be closer.

There are several stories and thoughts – J.K.Rowlings haven written one, and C.S.Lewis having stated that when a person protects their heart (or other people from what their heart is going through) so fully as to not let anyone else have any sort of access to it, that heart gets perverted, morphed, (hairy, if you will).  Hearts were made to be shared.  Life was made to be shared.  Carefully shared, wisely shared, sure.  But shared nonetheless.

But you have to be open.  You have to be genuine. You have to be willing.  You have to trust.

 

 

 

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
C. S. Lewis

 

 

PS – if you aren’t a cool enough nerd to know what I’m talking about when I’m referring to J.K.Rowling’s story – go read “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart”.  You can definitely find it in The Tales of Beedle The Bard,  maybe online.

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hiking, water, and too much sugar

Yesterday, I went hiking (if you can call a quarter-mile trail, a hike) with my youth group kids.   And it was hard.  Like, imagine if the air turned to water, and you suddenly had to develop the muscles to walk through it.  Everything in you has to push your body through it, each and every step.  That’s how the short hike was yesterday.

Which was weird.

Now, I’m not the best hiker in the world.  And I’m obviously not in incredible shape.  BUT I’m in MUCH better shape than the above statement implies.  I had just spent the weekend before in the mountains and done a tiny bit of hiking with much better success.  And while I was still the slowest hiker in the group over the weekend, and I had to catch my breath a lot – the whole walking-in-water-this-is-impossible feeling was NOT something I felt. 

So what had changed in the course of just a couple days?

As I mentally pushed through each and every step for a quarter mile, I tried to figure it out. 

And I’ve come to a conclusion.  I THINK it had something to do with the fact that the day before the short hike, I hardly drank any water, and I ate more than a healthy share of sugar.  I hadn’t done that over the weekend.  I had eaten (relatively) healthy.  My lack of healthy food and water intake affected my hiking performance in a more obvious, bigger way than I expected.

And (of course) I got to thinking that this is true of my life (not just my body ) as well.  Everything affects my ability to be the woman God created me to be.  If I’m paying attention to God, listening to voices that point me in that direction (godly friends, uplifting music/movies/books/etc.) than being that woman, living a life that God has called me to, is going to be so much easier (and, in fact, actually possible) and so much more enjoyable.  But if I’m “eating a bunch of sugar” ( or watching movies that put my mind in places that aren’t healthy, or listening to friends who might not have the godliest wisdom, or any wisdom) than attempting to be the woman God created me to be is going to be practically impossible.  And will probably feel like walking through water.  Not much fun.

So, to clear up a slightly muddy point, what voices are you allowing to speak into your life’s story?  Who is helping to narrate your life story?  Is it God and people who are a first-name- basis with Him?  Is it music and stories that help you think about Him, and good, pure, honorable, things? 

Or, are you listening to “sugar” that will slow you down and make simple, enjoyable things like a quarter-mile hike feel practically impossible?   That’s not how God intended you to have to live life.  He has better for you.  

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three-fingered, bug-eyed, and green-skinned

Have you ever felt like you didn’t belong here?

Did you know that’s because you don’t?

No kidding – you’re an alien.  Seriously!

Don’t  believe me – do have a great group of friends, but still, somehow, something’s off?  Or you might have only a few, or even no friends, and you KNOW something’s not right.  Or maybe your sense of style isn’t quite like everyone else’s.  You dance to a different beat.  You just know there HAS to be something better than this day-to-day-to-day life.

But everything around you tells you that you’re wrong.  Everyone else fits.  You will to; you just have to figure out how.  Get a boyfriend.  Dress differently.  Listen to Justin Bieber or One Direction (no, please don’t).   Get better grades.  Be a nerd.  Be a cheerleader.  Act a certain way.  Eat certain foods.  Weigh a certain weight.  Enjoy certain movies.  Do your hair a certain way.  Get to a certain level on a certain video game.  Learn to drive.  Go to college.  Know what you want to do with your life.  Have a purpose.  Have an awesome bedroom!   Blend in!

And while none of those things are inherently bad in and of themselves (except for maybe Bieber or OD or blending in), they aren’t ever going to quiet that nagging feeling that you don’t belong here.  That you were made for something better than this.   And people will tell you that’s normal, to not to pay too much attention.

And they’re right.  It IS normal.  Because you weren’t created for the world!  You weren’t created to fit in here!  At least, not with the world as it is right now.  Believe it or not, you were created to “fit in” in a perfect world, one where Eden existed and there was peace.  Where death was unheard of, and no one was ever ashamed.  A life that would fit in up in Heaven!  You’re just in the wrong place!  Go figure, right?  Doesn’t help with that restless/ frustrated/ out-of-place you have feeling right now, does it?  Sorry.

But that’s the point.  You’re not supposed to live a life that fits in here.  If your life looks too much like everyone else’s, something’s wrong.  You were made for something better, greater and grander than our current broken earth.  Unfortunately, living a life that would fit in heaven, usually means a bit (or a lot) of pain and discontent while living on the earth.

And so, what does living a heaven life here on earth mean?

It means you love people here when everyone else turns their back on you (even when the person you are trying to love turns their back).  It means knowing your money isn’t yours – it’s God’s.  And when He asks you to do something with it, you do it, no matter how little sense it makes.  It means having different priorities than everyone else.  Your goal isn’t to be the best or the richest or the prettiest or the one at the top (that’s all over rated anyway).  Your goal is to love the people around you the best you can, and then love them even better because Jesus is loving them through you.

Your goal is to, in everything, bringing God glory…in a way HE wants.  Don’t EVER assume you know what will bring God glory.  That’s up to Him.  So, ask.  And if He doesn’t respond, you move forward in the way your heart tells you.  Believe me, if your heart is in a place that wants God’s will to be fulfilled, He is not going to let you go in a wrong direction. He might just be waiting for you to move and THEN He’ll direct you.  He does that sometimes.

So, know you don’t belong here.  When you feel out of place, when your heart yearns for something better – that’s because that’s what you’re made for.  Don’t give up heart.  You’ll get there one day.  In God’s perfect timing, He’ll bring you home.

But don’t forget while you’re here on earth, that you don’t belong.  Don’t try to fit in.  Just be the wonderful you God created you to be.

After all, you’re an alien here!

Thankfully, you’re not the only one.  Which is why things like good friends who ALSO know they are aliens are important.  They can help you be an alien-life form here on earth.

But don’t ever let anyone convince you that this is your home, that you’re an earthling.   And believe me, there are a million voices trying.

But you’re not.  You have a fuller, crazier, more meaningful life ahead of you than an ol’ earthling does. You’re an alien, longing for your own world.  A world you call home.

And that’s a beautiful, wonderful, (yes, sometimes painful) thing.

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.14 For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. 15 If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. 16 But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.

Hebrews 11:13 – 16  (ESV)

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Egg-lights

Empty Eggshells

This summer has not been an easy one for me.  More often than not, by the end of the day, I feel completely empty, totally poured out.  There’s not any one specific thing that’s been causing it – it’s been several specific things.  Some are done and over with now, with other things filling their places.  Some are on-going.  All of them are draining.

And yes, prayer helps.  As does reading scripture.  And taking hikes, or long walks.  And journaling.  But I’m still empty by the end.

A couple weeks ago I went on a mission trip with my youth group.  It was one of the things that completely broke me.  When I came home and turned on my laptop, I was stopped by my wallpaper.  It was a picture I had taken earlier in the summer during a camping trip.  In the picture is a pile of broken egg shells, completely emptied of their yolk and white.  And, because of their emptiness, the morning sunlight could shine right through them, illuminating their cracks in an eye-catching way.  (So eye-catching that I had to stop flipping French Toast and grab my camera!)

Anyway, when I got back from my mission trip and was greeted by this picture, I suddenly found myself identifying with the eggs – completely emptied of everything within me, and broken.

But that’s when I realized that in order for the light to be shining through the eggshells, all their yolk and white had to be emptied out.  In fact, if you could talk to the eggs, I bet they would tell you that they felt like their very essence, the very thing that made them eggs, had been drained out of them.

But, but that’s what had to happen for the light to shine through them.  Only once the light was able to shine THROUGH them, could the eggs become something no one had expected.

And, I think, (I pray) that’s what God’s been doing with me this summer – completely emptying me of what I think of as my essence.  But, in reality, it’s just stuff that gets in His way of shining THROUGH me.  Which is really what I want.  I want Him to shine through me.  I want to be merely a shell, with Him filling me up, pouring out of me, catching eyes so that people notice.

I want to live an eggshell life – a life that brings Him glory and catches eyes for Him.

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If my younger self could talk to me now…

I miss writing at Starbucks.  I should be typing this out at one of their small, smooth tables, slowly sipping an Earl Grey Tea Latte.  But instead I sit curled up on my bed, pondering life, too lazy to get up and move.

Not the point, just an FYI.

So, this birthday month thing is apparently a bigger deal to me than I realized.  Or maybe it’s just because these last three weeks have been some of the hardest I’ve had in years.  Either reason – I’m extra contemplative and reminiscent of younger days.  (For those of you who don’t use words that size and don’t feel like reaching for a dictionary, the translation is I’m thinking about my past a lot).

And I wonder.

If I could fold time back on itself, so the eighteen year-old version of myself could meet the current, thirty year-old version of myself, what would my younger self think?  What would my older self say? I’m not sure.  It’s easier to know what my younger self would say.  Something along the lines of:

Why aren’t you in Africa?  You’re supposed to be in Africa teaching missionaries’ kids.  But instead you’ve had about twenty jobs in the time you graduated from college.  Why?  Yes, Bahrain was hard, but you don’t give in to pain, you push through.  God takes care of everything, right?  And He’ll protect you from stuff.  Were you not trusting Him enough?

And YOU HAVE A NOSE RING?!?  WHAT?    WHY?  Really?  Just because you think it’s pretty?  Who ARE you?  AND YOU CUT YOUR HAIR!?!  WHYYYYYYYY?

Why haven’t you lost the weight yet?  Will it never come off?

What are you wearing?

What are you listening too?  (And what is that little thing that is attached to the earphones in your ears?  ARE those earphones?)

You don’t have a VW bug yet?  Your car is boring.

You have so many more books!

And when did you start liking hats?

No guy in the picture yet, huh?

And so, so much more.  None of it truly important.  I know my younger self would have some issues with what I believe and know about God today.  And probably with the fact that I’m not living by “the plan”.  But that stuff has come with time and experience.  So, oh well.

But if I was given the unheard-of chance to talk to my younger self?  I’d probably say something along these lines:

Life is not about you.  I know you think that you think that, but it’s really NOT, Okay?  It’s not going to go how you expect, and that’s a wonderful, exhilarating reality to accept.  Accept the adventures God throws your way.  Your life will be richer for taking them.
Love better.  Love people.  All people.  No matter what.  You will have some really, really excruciatingly hard times ahead, but those will be nothing compared to the pain your relationships (all sorts – friends, family, romantic) will put you through.  But that’s okay.  Your relationships are worth it, are really the only thing worth your time on earth.  Because through your relationships you discover more about God, and God uses them to mold you into the woman He wants. And He will use you to reach out to everyone around you – because He loves you so much.

Do you have ANY idea how very much God loves you?  He loves you enough to want the very best for you.  He wants to make every day your very best.  He wants to give you the very best gifts.  He want you to become the woman He created you to be, and He placed inside you the potential to be.  He loves you enough to correct you when you mess up – no matter what it takes.  He loves you better and more deeply than you could ever imagine.

I would probably give myself a few fashion tips, a couple hints about what’s ahead, a few pointers with boys and friendship, but none of those would be as important as the knowledge of God’s love and relationships.

 

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Live, Forest, LIVE!!!!

I just spent three minutes staring at my computer screen while it was in Screensaver mode.  I watched as pictures of places I have been and people I have met, gently appeared and disappeared on and off the screen.  And I thought how blessed I was, how much I have enjoyed the life I have lived so far, how much I’m looking forward to what’s coming next in my life.

And maybe it’s because of the book I’m reading, or the fact we are now in my birthday month, and this time around I’ll turn thirty (I know, I’m OLD!  And I’m YOUNG!)  but the thought, “What exactly does it mean to LIVE?” crossed my mind.  I know it’s kind of a cliché thought.  Just about everyone who is anyone has written on this topic, so I’m not being overly original here.  But the question has been circling around my head for a couple of hours now, and I can’t seem to focus on anything else.  So, here goes!

So, define Living . Having recently re-taken sixth, seventh, and eighth grade science, I KNOW there are four or six different requirements, or tests, to see if something is alive.  Yep.  Really did retake those classes.  And yes, there really ARE requirements to know whether or not something is alive.  Don’t ask why I had to re-take middle school science.  Honestly.  Not the point.

But I think a person can pass all those requirements with flying colors and not be Living.

For me, Living is NOT simply having a form of sorts and breathing.  That counts for plants and animals and other various ‘live’ organisms that I can’t think of.  But, as bearers of God’s reflection, I think our definition has a few more requirements.

I think Living is more than simply having great experiences.  For instance, some people have these bucket lists (Apparently some people have lists of stuff to do before they turn 30.  Huh.  Didn’t do that).  Now, since I’ve never created one of these lists, I could be wrong, but my assumption is that they think it’s okay to die if they’ve completed everything on their list.  Like, completing everything on that list means they’ve really Lived.  So, accomplishing certain tasks, or seeing certain things, or experiencing certain experiences means you’ve lived?  Well, what about all the people who didn’t have the resources to bungee jump off the Golden Gate Bridge?  Have they still Lived?  Or how about the people who never tried eating a cricket?  Or cow’s brains?  Have they really Lived?  How about the women who never gave birth?  And, for that matter, all the men who didn’t either(like, all of them, right)?  Have they Lived?  If I never travel to the South Pole (NO THANKS!) will I not have truly Lived?

I don’t think so.  I think a person can never leave a mile-radius of where they were born and still Live.

I also think people can travel the world, get married, have kids, climb to the top of the Eiffel tower, zip-line off the Great Wall of China, eat green tomato minced pie (YUCK) and NOT have Lived.

I honestly think you have to go back to the Bible in order to really Live (don’t freak out, I’m not asking you to pull out your robe, sandals and staff from the Christmas pageant).  I think you specifically have to look at why we’re here, which means looking at what Jesus commanded us to do while on this planet.   And Jesus said, in Matthew 22, verses 37 through 39 that the greatest commandment (So, the most important thing He asked us to do while on earth) is to “Love the Lord your God with your entire heart, with your entire soul and with your entire mind.”  And in the very next breath, He said to, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.”

Now, if you do this, if you follow this commandment, there’s a good chance you’ll end up in foreign countries, or eating weird food (seriously – white lasagna is WEIRD), or even getting married some day.  There is just as good of a chance, though, that you’ll end up living in the same town you grew up in, working at the grocery store a couple blocks over, and getting to know everyone who comes through that grocery line.  And that’s okay.  That’s fine.  That’s brilliant really.

Because you’ll get to know those people really well.  You’ll learn how to best love them.  And that’s the commandment!  To LOVE.  In a deep, caring-about-you-more-than-me sort of way.

And people who love like that – they have rich, full, fulfilling lives.  Promise.  They might go to New Zealand  some day, they might not.  It doesn’t matter so much, because that inner desire that is buried so deep within each and every human on the planet to not waist our time here (I know it might not seem like everyone has this desire, but they do – some just chose to ignore it) is fulfilled.

So, my conclusion – if you Love God with everything in you, and if you sacrificially love your neighbor, you are, indeed, Living.

Go Live your life, wherever God leads it!  Go Live it abundantly (that means Love LOTS of people well)!

Buckle up, it’s going to be quite the ride.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, afterthought – I have nothing against bucket lists.  When God has given us this amazing planet, and the means to travel it, we should probably do that to some extent.  It helps you get to know Him better.  And if you need a list to help you remember all you want to do, that’s fine.  Make lists.  I would LOVE to see the Northern Lights some day before I die, and I want to visit Ireland, and I want to hike the Camino De Santiago in Spain.  But I’m not going to feel like I got gypped if I die before those things happen.  After all, when God renews this earth, and makes all things new – those experiences might be ten times better.

 

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