"Friends are the people who, when you forget your heart song, sing it back to you so you can remember."
Or so some say.
My friends are more than that.
They are treasure keepers, and I am blessed to be treasured by them.
They do more than sing a song to me in hopes of jogging my memory when the roller coaster of life leaves me lightheaded. These people are not a bunch of high-heeled tea sippers happy to chat along while I pick up the lunch check. These are people who plaster pictures of me in my heart, mind, and soul when life pain and too big mountains leave me with identity loss. These are people who do not say, "Call me if you need me," but show up at my door and scream, "I know you're in there. Don't make me break this thing down to get to you." And...believe me...they would. They have.
I love them...and I am amazed at how much they love me.
And, "Thank you," will never touch my gratitude.
882. Friend of 20 odd years, unafraid of hard questions, still seeing amazing even when I've forgotten.
883. Understanding instant messages can provide enough cover to slowly be found
884. Patience when the bars keep dropping out down in the Hill Country
885. 4:00 am, "Are you sure you're okay? If not, we can talk some more."
886. A bottle of wine and talking like we were in college
887. Holding on when I can barely even stand up
888. "...wonderful...even now..."
889. The daily dose of laughter because it's good medicine.
890. Dunked Oreos
891. Freshly created songs sung not so on key
892. Calm in the midst of the chaos
893. Not being shocked
894. Follow-up calls the next day..."just to check on you"
895. Believing in the whole picture
896. An hour and a half of looking for Wifi that actually worked because some emails are really important
897. Long hugs
898. Road trip therapy
899. "It's about standing in your hair color."
900. Hummingbirds
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Where I am Reading This Week--May 28, 2010
Soul Food being served this week:
Dead Weight--Beautiful picture of the peace of being carried that overcomes the self-conscious idea we need to help the One carrying us.
The Treasure of Thrown Away Food--"The truly thankful person is a truly peaceful person. They have made a habit no matter what to notice, pause and choose." You've got to read the rest. Really. It's convicting, challenging, and OH!, so empowering!
The Lost Art of Friendship--When doing small things makes a big difference.
Dead Weight--Beautiful picture of the peace of being carried that overcomes the self-conscious idea we need to help the One carrying us.
The Treasure of Thrown Away Food--"The truly thankful person is a truly peaceful person. They have made a habit no matter what to notice, pause and choose." You've got to read the rest. Really. It's convicting, challenging, and OH!, so empowering!
The Lost Art of Friendship--When doing small things makes a big difference.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Becoming Naked
I make myself small, try to blend in, become one of the shadows. I am drowning in loneliness and hoping to be found…afraid to be found. Knowing too well what people will truly find.
Being naked is hard.
It is easier to hide.
In hiding, I can pick and choose what is seen. Camouflage the unbeautiful spots.
The ugliness of my stretch marks made when my skin grew thin from conceiving and growing life don’t show. I can point to the fruit, and no one sees the pain or the imperfections exposed during the process of life bringing.
A well placed cover hides where my skin does not fit me well. The too tight places where I over extend and perform perfectly take the focus from the sagging parts where I don’t fit into my skin quite right.
Scrapes, bruises, and wounds fade into shadows of the appearance of light and depth.
Perhaps in the hiding, glimpses of truth come forth, but if I keep moving, they quickly return to the shadows and anyone who has seen is unsure of exactly what they saw.
Yes, being naked is hard.
It is easier to hide.
But I hear Him--calling me, seeking me, desiring me.
I stand statue still. What if He sees me? But He has seen me.
Yesterday.
Before I saw me.
Before I knew my imperfections, my ugly spots. Before I became ashamed of what there is to see.
Yesterday, He saw everything, and He did not turn away. He did not snicker. He did not offer suggestions to make that trouble area better. He simply walked with me, spoke with me, shared His heart and let me share mine…
Yesterday. When I was naked.
And unashamed.
Because I did not know what I had to be ashamed of, only that He enjoyed me…that He wanted me.
Yesterday He walked with me, openly. Today I am hiding…But He calls…
I answer. “I am ashamed.”
He replies. “I never told you to be.”
I swallow hard. My heart races. Do I have the courage to be found?
I step from the camouflage where I have tried to be lost, where I have tried to blend in and not be seen.
He is waiting.
I am naked. More naked than I’ve ever been.
His love is unchanged. He has seen me naked all along, and He covers me.
Genesis 2:25, “The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.”
Being naked is hard.
It is easier to hide.
In hiding, I can pick and choose what is seen. Camouflage the unbeautiful spots.
The ugliness of my stretch marks made when my skin grew thin from conceiving and growing life don’t show. I can point to the fruit, and no one sees the pain or the imperfections exposed during the process of life bringing.
A well placed cover hides where my skin does not fit me well. The too tight places where I over extend and perform perfectly take the focus from the sagging parts where I don’t fit into my skin quite right.
Scrapes, bruises, and wounds fade into shadows of the appearance of light and depth.
Perhaps in the hiding, glimpses of truth come forth, but if I keep moving, they quickly return to the shadows and anyone who has seen is unsure of exactly what they saw.
Yes, being naked is hard.
It is easier to hide.
But I hear Him--calling me, seeking me, desiring me.
I stand statue still. What if He sees me? But He has seen me.
Yesterday.
Before I saw me.
Before I knew my imperfections, my ugly spots. Before I became ashamed of what there is to see.
Yesterday, He saw everything, and He did not turn away. He did not snicker. He did not offer suggestions to make that trouble area better. He simply walked with me, spoke with me, shared His heart and let me share mine…
Yesterday. When I was naked.
And unashamed.
Because I did not know what I had to be ashamed of, only that He enjoyed me…that He wanted me.
Yesterday He walked with me, openly. Today I am hiding…But He calls…
I answer. “I am ashamed.”
He replies. “I never told you to be.”
I swallow hard. My heart races. Do I have the courage to be found?
I step from the camouflage where I have tried to be lost, where I have tried to blend in and not be seen.
He is waiting.
I am naked. More naked than I’ve ever been.
His love is unchanged. He has seen me naked all along, and He covers me.
Genesis 2:25, “The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.”
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Thoughts from my Journal
There are times when God is encouraging, loving, and affirming as He gently moves you forward, and then there are times when He just shoves you out of the nest and expects you to have the sense to recognize the opportunity to fly
Growing Faith
This morning I was thinking about my garden. It looks pretty puny. We've tried gardens before, and they were flops.
This year I felt like the Lord said to plant a garden because we would get a good harvest from it, so we did. We put in tomatoes, peppers, onions, and a variety of seeds...along with a lot of our money. So far...well, I'm really learning to see with faith on this.
This morning I was so frustrated I wanted to quit, just walk away and give it up to the hot Texas summer. Then the Lord spoke to me, "What about my promise? Do you not believe my promise just because you can't see it?"
Ouch.
So once the sun comes up and before it starts to get too warm, I'll be out there watering again, praying over the okra, corn, tomatoes, peppers, and beans. Sowing into His promise...praying as I go...asking Him to remind me of other promises that the desert sun has assaulted and praying for the faith to believe again for what I do not yet see.
This year I felt like the Lord said to plant a garden because we would get a good harvest from it, so we did. We put in tomatoes, peppers, onions, and a variety of seeds...along with a lot of our money. So far...well, I'm really learning to see with faith on this.
This morning I was so frustrated I wanted to quit, just walk away and give it up to the hot Texas summer. Then the Lord spoke to me, "What about my promise? Do you not believe my promise just because you can't see it?"
Ouch.
So once the sun comes up and before it starts to get too warm, I'll be out there watering again, praying over the okra, corn, tomatoes, peppers, and beans. Sowing into His promise...praying as I go...asking Him to remind me of other promises that the desert sun has assaulted and praying for the faith to believe again for what I do not yet see.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Gratitude 35--Friends and Neighbors
I am not going to put up a brave facade today. Last week was a hard week. I spent it in deep pain, with a lot of questions, and on the mental and emotional edge. I never felt abandoned by God, but it is because He made Himself so obvious in people around me, and I am so grateful for those people who let Him speak through them--not only in words but in their lives that they live everyday.
I am grateful for...
862. A neighbor who would run into a burning home to save others.
863. A new friend who opened her home to an elderly couple with no place to go.
864. A small army of neighbors who stepped up to salvage pieces of lives, protect what was left, and rebuild what was lost.
865. the Man of my Dreams who made multiple trips to the grocery store to supply dinner for people who thought of everyone but themselves.
866. My friend Lisa, who cheered when I sent off another article to be considered by a "big publisher"
867. My friend Paula, who worked found submission information and helped me with a query letter to send off another article
868. Those who believe God is blessing others through me, which feels unimaginable at times.
869. Molly, the Heeler/terrier mix, that honored me by bringing me her ball to play a great game of fetch
870. Debra, Molly's "mom", who talked dogs, toys, and training. Camping folks are some of the friendliest anyway, and Debra certainly gives them a great name.
871. Sarah, a friend for a little boy trying to figure out how he fit into camping when "relaxing" does not include sitting around doing nothing
872. Grandma, who helped Anna try to get the fish in, and fought valiantly, until the line snapped. We lost the bait, hook, and bobber, but Anna got a memory and a smile that was worth it.
873. My brother, who is just cool
874. Sharilyn...for being more of a blessing than this writer has words to say.
875. Friends who sit around and hang out for a few hours talking, processing, deccompressing, and laughing. I didn't know how tense I was until I'd been around y'all a few hours, my muscles relaxed, and I ached all over. LOL!!!
876. The two most amazing children in the world.
877. Teenagers that make me excited about what their generation is going to accomplish. Jordan and Oakley, y'all rock!
878. Prayer team captains that bless, listen, and encourage. I have the best!
879. Prayer team members that ask the right questions and say the right things at the perfectly right time to let me know God is hearing, God is working, and God is not looking for a backup plan.
880. Shaleen, who drove over an hour and a half to help adopted "neighbors" when they were in need.
881. Bilal, the Man of my Dreams' trainer, who is not only a positive force during class, but calls to check in when Rob misses classes, is truly concerned for Rob's health, and is available to make help in any way possible to see our family be healthy. I don't know that he'll ever know how much that 15 minute conversation meant to me.
I am sure there are more that just have slipped my mind at this moment, and I might add them throughout the day...or week. Looking back over the last week, these are the people who have been healing balm to my heart, a hand to hold me up, and Jesus in front of my face. They are amazing people, and I thank God for every single one of them. I pray you have people like this in your life, too.
I am grateful for...
862. A neighbor who would run into a burning home to save others.
863. A new friend who opened her home to an elderly couple with no place to go.
864. A small army of neighbors who stepped up to salvage pieces of lives, protect what was left, and rebuild what was lost.
865. the Man of my Dreams who made multiple trips to the grocery store to supply dinner for people who thought of everyone but themselves.
866. My friend Lisa, who cheered when I sent off another article to be considered by a "big publisher"
867. My friend Paula, who worked found submission information and helped me with a query letter to send off another article
868. Those who believe God is blessing others through me, which feels unimaginable at times.
869. Molly, the Heeler/terrier mix, that honored me by bringing me her ball to play a great game of fetch
870. Debra, Molly's "mom", who talked dogs, toys, and training. Camping folks are some of the friendliest anyway, and Debra certainly gives them a great name.
871. Sarah, a friend for a little boy trying to figure out how he fit into camping when "relaxing" does not include sitting around doing nothing
872. Grandma, who helped Anna try to get the fish in, and fought valiantly, until the line snapped. We lost the bait, hook, and bobber, but Anna got a memory and a smile that was worth it.
873. My brother, who is just cool
874. Sharilyn...for being more of a blessing than this writer has words to say.
875. Friends who sit around and hang out for a few hours talking, processing, deccompressing, and laughing. I didn't know how tense I was until I'd been around y'all a few hours, my muscles relaxed, and I ached all over. LOL!!!
876. The two most amazing children in the world.
877. Teenagers that make me excited about what their generation is going to accomplish. Jordan and Oakley, y'all rock!
878. Prayer team captains that bless, listen, and encourage. I have the best!
879. Prayer team members that ask the right questions and say the right things at the perfectly right time to let me know God is hearing, God is working, and God is not looking for a backup plan.
880. Shaleen, who drove over an hour and a half to help adopted "neighbors" when they were in need.
881. Bilal, the Man of my Dreams' trainer, who is not only a positive force during class, but calls to check in when Rob misses classes, is truly concerned for Rob's health, and is available to make help in any way possible to see our family be healthy. I don't know that he'll ever know how much that 15 minute conversation meant to me.
I am sure there are more that just have slipped my mind at this moment, and I might add them throughout the day...or week. Looking back over the last week, these are the people who have been healing balm to my heart, a hand to hold me up, and Jesus in front of my face. They are amazing people, and I thank God for every single one of them. I pray you have people like this in your life, too.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
In the Aftermath, Pentecost
My aching muscles drag me from my sleep. The aftermath of yesterday's long walk around the neighborhood drive me from my bed and out to the street again.
The too moist air settles on me as I check the time on my cell phone, slip my headphones over my ears, and head down the street.
In truth, I had hoped to rest a bit longer. A long night of warring with thoughts, memories, and heart wounds still throbbing left me with little sleep. When I finally closed my eyes and felt sleep slipping over me, I longed to stay in the quiet, to let the headache subside, and let my tight muscles relax. A few hours later, I was on the road again, moving toward a better level of fitness, working off excess pounds, and making strides to the physical life I want.
My muscles stretch with the strides, and the ache loosens. The music in my ear is lost in the songs of the birds around me. They are joyous.
I don't remember joyous. Right now, all I remember are the things I want to escape, and yet, instead of allowing me to lie quiet in my bed, the Lord has chosen to bring me right into the middle of the onslaught. It is just He and I here...in the quiet...amid the screaming voices, and I am silent, except for the screams at Him.
How long? Forever? Does this last forever? What must I do? How can I convince you? When will you hear me? When will You stop this...or am I as alone as I feel I am right now?
And the screaming voices continue their cacaphony, but mine goes quiet.
Is it faith or resignation that quiets me? I am sure I don't want to know.
And in the mind-darkness, a Voice speaks. "Pentecost."
Pentecost.
When the Spirit came. When shaken men received unshakable faith. When uneducated men knew they had not believed in vain. No longer merely followers, they became Fire carriers. The questions about Jesus' dying became the declaration of His resurrection. Hearts that had known their failures now knew the limitless power of Almighty God...in them...through them.
The promised Counselor had come, and nothing would be the same again. Not for those men...not for the world...
My feet turn the last corner toward home. The voices still scream. My heart still aches, but hope has again revealed itself. In the aftermath of all that has happened and all I still hope to see, there remains the promise. Pentecost.
The too moist air settles on me as I check the time on my cell phone, slip my headphones over my ears, and head down the street.
In truth, I had hoped to rest a bit longer. A long night of warring with thoughts, memories, and heart wounds still throbbing left me with little sleep. When I finally closed my eyes and felt sleep slipping over me, I longed to stay in the quiet, to let the headache subside, and let my tight muscles relax. A few hours later, I was on the road again, moving toward a better level of fitness, working off excess pounds, and making strides to the physical life I want.
My muscles stretch with the strides, and the ache loosens. The music in my ear is lost in the songs of the birds around me. They are joyous.
I don't remember joyous. Right now, all I remember are the things I want to escape, and yet, instead of allowing me to lie quiet in my bed, the Lord has chosen to bring me right into the middle of the onslaught. It is just He and I here...in the quiet...amid the screaming voices, and I am silent, except for the screams at Him.
How long? Forever? Does this last forever? What must I do? How can I convince you? When will you hear me? When will You stop this...or am I as alone as I feel I am right now?
And the screaming voices continue their cacaphony, but mine goes quiet.
Is it faith or resignation that quiets me? I am sure I don't want to know.
And in the mind-darkness, a Voice speaks. "Pentecost."
Pentecost.
When the Spirit came. When shaken men received unshakable faith. When uneducated men knew they had not believed in vain. No longer merely followers, they became Fire carriers. The questions about Jesus' dying became the declaration of His resurrection. Hearts that had known their failures now knew the limitless power of Almighty God...in them...through them.
The promised Counselor had come, and nothing would be the same again. Not for those men...not for the world...
My feet turn the last corner toward home. The voices still scream. My heart still aches, but hope has again revealed itself. In the aftermath of all that has happened and all I still hope to see, there remains the promise. Pentecost.
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