Month: May 2018

Today I came home from church with so many thoughts and emotions. None of them good.

Today I felt disappointed in my perceived shortcomings.

Today I felt exhausted.

Today I felt done.

“Maybe I just won’t go back to church ever again.” I told myself.  “I’ll slip out quietly, feigning sickness until I’m forgotten.”  It seemed reasonable enough.  People do it all the time.

Today I escaped to my upstairs balcony, my newfound haven, and conversed with the Lord.  I shared my thoughts and emotions with Him.  None of them good.

Today He listened to me. He listened to me and He loved me. He loved me so much that I felt the physical weight of His existence, the magnitude of His glory surrounding and resting upon me.

“Today you did exactly what I created you to do.”  He told me. And I cried. I cried and fought to choke out the question, “Why dost thou love me so much? How can this be?”

He then told me to, “Be of good cheer.  All is well.”

I tried to hold onto His words, to believe in His promises, but soon I slipped back into my mind, refusing to be comforted.  “Please take me into your arms. Hold me there and protect me.”  I pleaded.  “I don’t know how to be of good cheer.”

I opened my eyes and gasped with joy as two doves flew directly over me.  So close that I could see the finest details in their perfect forms. “Thank you for that gift.”  I whispered.  Oh how I love birds.

“This is how you do it.”  I was told.  “This is how you be of good cheer. You open your eyes and look.”

Today I looked.  I looked at God’s creation. The birds, the trees, the sky. I looked and I cried.  Because though I am terribly flawed, my God is perfect. And through His perfection I can find wholeness, I can find peace.

Today I understood that as much as I would like to hide in my Father’s arms, shielded from vulnerability, pain and disappointment, He can’t keep me there.

I must taste the bitter to appreciate the sweet.

I must walk through the clouds to find joy in the doves.

I must feel that I failed–broken and weary–to be showered in God’s love as He tells me I’m exactly where He wants me to be.

And maybe, just maybe, I won’t be sick next Sunday.

But it will take a few more balcony sessions before I can know for sure.

 

“Grab the reader by the throat with the first sentence and hold them dangling there until the end of the book.”

I heard this advice, given by author Nancy Turner (These is my Words) at a writers conference several years ago and I couldn’t agree with her more.  As a reader I open each new book with the anticipation of being grabbed and dangled.  Succumbing to the temptation to abandon all else, because I simply can’t put a book down, is my favorite part of reading.

My injured foot has been placed on semi bed rest which means the rest of me has too.  I prepared myself for it.  Found a good book and told myself I could write.  But without the need for careless abandonment–because I have nothing to neglect–I find my enthusiasm for both lacking.  I feel stuck.  And stuck isn’t working for me.

The main character in the book I’m currently reading, a Mr. Maurice Bendrix, is a writer.  And–as if in answer to my adventure craving, rebellious inner child–he describes his strict writing regimen of putting down at least 500 words each and every day.  500 words with or without the need for careless abandonment.  500 words no matter what.

Alright Bendrix I hear you.

Here are my 500 words for today (minus those I’ve already written).

As spoken of in an earlier post, I’ve begun the daily practice of yoga.

Each morning I go out onto my upstairs balcony and, lying down on my yoga mat, I pray.  I’d forgotten how much I love to pray outside.

As a young girl I’d sneak away into our backyard horse pasture and have the best conversations with the Lord. I find that my yoga mat prayers are deeper, more in tune and attentive–much like those from my youth.

After prayer and meditating on the glories of this beautiful world–the sound of the birds alone is enough to make my heart burst–I stretch my muscles, working out all the kinks from the day before.

I then work my way into a simple, modified sun salutation.  It’s all my foot can offer right now and I practice gratitude for what it can give before collapsing into child’s pose, melting away into further meditation.

And it is enough.

I’m learning–again and again through life’s lessons–to accept ‘enough’.

‘Enough’ has meant different things at different times for me. When I surrender to and embrace ‘enough’ I’m filled with joy. ‘Enough’ reminds me to save room for God.

Right now ‘enough’ means stillness, bed rest, reading and 444 written words instead of 500.

Sorry Mr. Bendrix.  But as they say,

enough is enough.

 

My kids are really going to miss their cousins while they’re off on a world adventure.  Waylon and Jonah are the best of friends. I’ll always cherish the fun moments they’ve shared together.  Moments like this throwback post written in 2011.

Cousins really are the best.

~~~~~~~~~~

Every kid should get to live near a cousin…

May 2, 2011

“Yep, he’s dead.” Waylon announced as he and his cousin Jonah checked on the baby bird that they had tried to save the night before (they saved it from a cat’s mouth. Perhaps it would have been better to let the cat finish the job, but hey, they had to try–right?).

“Well, we’re learning about the cycles of nature.” Waylon continued, “And this is one of the cycles of nature.”

“Yeah… dying.” Jonah whispered solemnly.

“People die all the time.” Waylon added, “It’s just one of those things.”

Jonah and Waylon have the best conversations. I love listening to them (especially when they don’t know I’m there). Waylon is a very matter of fact, “this is just how life goes” kind of kid and Jonah is very mindful and tender hearted, but they will both fiercely defend their point of view and they are both extraordinary story tellers.

They scare each other to death all of the time. Jonah had Waylon so scared of a bully at school named Tony that Waylon was ready to call off his education all together.

“I think Jonah is just telling you a story.” I told Waylon.

“No he’s not.” Waylon insisted. “Tony gave Jonah a bloody lip and sent him to the hospital and everything.” (Okay, I’m thinking the family chat lines would have lit up had this really happened.)

“Waylon I’m pretty sure Jonah is just messing with you.” I reassured him again.

“No mom it’s true. Tony is the worst bully at school and I don’t want to go back there.”

“Well do you know Tony’s last name so I can talk to the teacher about it?” I asked.

“Yeah his last name is Hawk, Tony Hawk.”

Tony Hawk?

Um… yeah.

So cute.