Used to

You know things are changing. In fact they seems to be in a constant state of change. But we were made to adapt. And that is what I keep going after - that change is inevitable and let's embrace it. (embrace is my word for the year.)

I used to know all the cars in the parking lot. I used to know all the names of coworkers and things that made them unique. I used to know. 

And there was safety in that, which is not present in an ever evolving startup company. There was security in knowing about the people you work with. 

The cars in the parking lot have changed. Even the parking lot itself has changed, the building different. The things that you thought you knew about your coworkers, you find out that maybe you knew too much. Or maybe too little. 

This week we added three new cars to the parking lot. "My space" is no longer my parking space. 

I still know the names of the people around me, but small talk is reduced and the tidbits that make us unique don't come out as often, as much. 

I've started making up lives for the people around me, as I would strangers on the street. The game we used to play where the imagination runs wild. 

I used to know and there was comfort in that. I used to.

*written at the beginning of July 2017

On Writing

Hi friends!

I write drafts all the time, but I'm trying something new this time - a free write.

Over the years I've realized I want to be a writer, but I don't take the time to invest in practicing my writing. This week I'm sharing someone else's story written by another person entirely. The person who wrote the story did a wonderful job. As I read through it I could see the previous English teacher seep through. I could tell, this woman, she loves to write.

This last weekend I met another previous English teacher and as we were talking, I kept looking at her and going, Yes, I see it. You are a writer.

Isn't it crazy that we separate people into those who can write and are 'writers' and those who can not? I often put myself in the "can not camp." Really, I can write. I can write, but it needs refinement. {Ironic, considering this is a free write.}

And I've learned that I like that there are rules, but I can't figure out all the rules. It's something that is similar to American football to me. I know there are rules, I know others are aware of them and follow them. But I can't quite seem to figure them out. 

And then there is the creative. That I can do. What I want to convey, that I can work on. I can wordplay with. When I 'edit' I often am editing for content and context.

My dad on the other hand, grammar and writing rules are his forte {he could tell me every error in this post}. On high school papers {and even some college} he would say, that together our brains would write excellently. He gets tripped up by the creative and the content, I by the grammar and the spelling.

At one point my coworker and I had a conversation about my desire to write in simple terms - better. And he took it on as his mission to the point where he gave me the book On Writing. I've been scared of what I view as my own incompetence and I've yet to read it.

That which is our weakness is where we have the most space for improvement. I can't promise more practice, but I do hope to spend a little more time here on the blog. I've even started writing more letters and finding more space to journal. I hope that it is the start of something.

Swim in Your Corner of the Pool

One of my favorite places to pop in and read, to sit awhile in my thoughts, is Emily Freeman's blog...ok, Emily P. Freeman.

She recently wrote a letter of encouragement to her former self about the world of blogging and life in general. And it resonated, 101 comments resonated. And she brings up things that most of us are thinking of, are aware of, or are experiencing. 

When I started this blog I had had the desire to start one for awhile. I struggled between wanting to just share and to be the blog everyone read. And I quickly realized that it took so much more time than I ever gave it credit. I've watch others switch platforms and pay for site designs or ads. I've watched the giveaways, the link-ups and the promoted content. I've seen some really great blogs become the big thing and seen bloggers launch their online careers. I've considered all these things, but for me this was an escape. It was a place to practice writing and a place to get my thoughts out where someone might read them.

And it wasn't such an escape when I had to reload the photos (not great quality I might add) to a post 3 times. Or when I felt pressure to get a better camera to take better pictures (still working on this). Or when I saw how much site designs and ad spaces cost. Or even when I learned how to do my own tiles and then couldn't figure out how to code them into the side bar (I know how to do this now!). 

I now work in marketing and it makes me laugh how much this little space hasn't progressed. My job has given me the ability to know some of the backend things that were so mysterious to 18 year old me. But that doesn't mean I know everything. Or really that I spend the time to do it during my non working hours. 

It amazes me how much envy there can be for a space that's open to the world. And frankly, I don't want to be a part of it. Maybe that's why I've deprioritized this blog thing. Maybe that's why when I hear how many people have "made friends online" through blogs and social channels, I have to turn and guard my heart. 

You are special, you are unique, you are you. And you have to learn to swim in your area of the pool. You have to learn and develop your passions because your area of the pool needs to be splashed and the bottom floor explored. Your area of the pool doesn't need green stagnant water. It needs the vibrancy of rainbow shimmers on the blue wave forms. It needs you.

Here's to guarding our hearts and that which is most precious to us. Here's to being small, even when we're watching others get big. Be you, fully and uniquely. Just as Jennie Allen said this past weekend during the IF:Gathering, the world doesn't need more big. It needs you, just as you are, because you have everything you need to be you.

When Life is Rough, Buy Flowers

Life can be incredibly rough. And there are seasons to life. Life can get messy, especially when both hard and wonderful are thrown into the mix. I don't believe that hard and wonderful are mutually exclusive, but I do believe that some things are down right awful while others make us giddy with joy and delight.

There have been quite a few things that although my world is not "rocked" but them, my life does seem spiked with the bitterness of hard. I'm not even sure if that sentence make sense, but I think it's as accurate as I am going to get to what it feels like. It's the needle that stings and then you stop feeling it, but you know that it happened.

Last week after another sting, I was shopping at Costco. I needed a few things for a Wednesday night dinner party. The combination of tiredness from work and emotional tiredness from both the weekend and emotions at work led me to buy way more fruit than I can eat before it goes bad. I knew this, but let it happen because I honestly couldn't fight one more self-inflicted decision. And then I passed the flowers.

I stopped to look at them, decided it was frivolous, especially with all that was in my cart and walked on. Then I turned around and looked at them once more. I could do the $10, but not the $15 or the roses or... I walked past again. In my head once more, No I really want flowers. So I went back and chose the most colorful, the most wildflower like, and the least fake. Great qualifiers, right?

But I think that my soul needed them. It needed to be able to arrange them in a vase, or two. It needed to know that God created the simplest thing for a short amount of time for enjoyment. And my soul needed to be reminded that death and loss are natural, but so is blooming.

It's natural, special and to be enjoyed.

Friends, may you rise to meet the hard and truly enjoy the delights of life. I'm working on it too.

The Best We Know How

I had been behind horrible drivers the whole way there. I needed to return a few items and there were a few items that needed to be replaced, desperately needed to be replaced. I finally arrived, relatively unharmed and walked in the doors only to realize the return counter was at the whole other end of the store. That's ok, I thought, We need to have an attitude shift anyways. We are here now. We can do this and then we will take ourselves home for dinner.

I'm thankful for attitude adjustments. So very thankful.

I was in line for a minute tops, when a man stepped behind me. I could tell without even turning around that he was homeless, or at least down on his luck. The way he talked had an edge and a toughness to it. It was somewhat mumbled and strung together in a cadence that higher education folks don't normally use. 

I turned slightly, as he was on his phone and I didn't really want him to know I was watching and listening. I learned a lot about his life those next few minutes in line. It's amazing what phone conversations can tell you. But the reason he was in the returns line was what made me have so much compassion for him and so much pride.

The man had bought a shirt for his interview that day. 

The hanger said XL, the shirt it turns out was a Medium. "I put the shirt on for the interview and it seemed tight. It was a medium! Why do they even sell mediums? Do ya know any men tha' are size medium? {I do haha} I mean mediums should be in da boys section. So now I'm waiting...Oh, I talked to the guy at the restaurant taday and he said that he just hired some guys but he doesn't think one of 'em is gonna work out. It'd be 6am Monday thru Friday and it'just prepin' the food, but I told 'em I'd do it. He gonna let me know next week. Yeah, and it pays $10.50 and hour, so it pretty good..."

Oh sweet heavens. My heart swelled as I thought of him going to an interview. Him trying to get a job. Him working to work. I mean he had to set aside money to buy the damn shirt! 

I was so proud of him. So proud of this man I didn't know, that was doing the best he knew how. I could have judged him all over. I also shouldn't have been proud for his success, because God knows I didn't do anything to directly help him. I couldn't help it. He was trying and sometimes that's all any of us can do. Try to do the best we know how.

Attitude adjustments are great when they continue. As soon as I got home I prepared my dinner. Then I did prep for my dinners the rest of the week, sticking it in the oven. My entire kitchen began filling with smoke. There was a haze. I was hesitant to check the oven. I had only put chicken on foil on a cookie sheet. There was no way that my chicken was smoking, but then there was grey smoke coming out of the oven. Oh no.

I opened the oven to find a flame from the bottom to the cookie sheet. Full blazing. Unbeknownst to me, my roommate's bacon from the morning had leaked. There was a grease fire in my oven. Oven off. Chicken out. Shut it tight. Open all the windows and the sliding door. Awesome. Now we wait. 

I didn't loose it 'til another roommate suggested we put water on it...our electric oven...with a grease fire. So then I might have had a bad attitude. 

But this. We have a house and a roof. And for today we all have jobs and we can all shop for shirts that fit us for interviews and outings. And we still have a kitchen with an oven in it.

We are doing the best we know how.

New Topics, New Languages

I come up with new topics for this blog all the time. It used to be where I would write in my daydreams my blog post. And I would edit in my daydreams too. "Let's reword that," "What's a better way to say xyz?" And then I let go. I left this place, though I would always say..."yeah I have a blog that I haven't written in a while."During that time I stopped writing in my head. 

I think writing a post in your head or brainstorming another topic is like learning a foreign language. They say that you have truly mastered a language that you dream in that language. The first time I heard this I thought it was absolutely ridiculous. And I can't say I experienced it so therefore I believe it to be true. You don't master a language or truly build a passionate subject until you're whole being is invested, even your sleep. It's not when you have your first full conversation. It's not when you decide this would be a great idea.

It's when you are invested. 

This last year I have stubbled and failed at the art of discipline. My thought has been, let me discipline the tasks I need to do and the things that are best for my well being to then be able to free up my "other" time for slowing down. It sounds a little backwards, but some of the people I know that are the most like how I want to be have an art of discipline in their life. They workout every morning, they read their bible every morning, they plan nutrients into their diet, they create empty space to not be disciplined.And some of this requires simplification. All this to say that I'm back in a sense. I'm back to thinking of blog topics and soon I'll be writing posts in my daydreams. So I'm exploring what I want to be here. For awhile I might just write. No parameters and full of life thoughts.

I think we are allowed to give our self room and space to create and explore. Let's explore.

Captive Audiences + Grace

Tonight I sat and told a story and tried to calm the fears.  My words tumbled out and I'm not even completely sure what I said.  I know the message I wanted to send.  And I know how passionate I got.  More passionate, more aggressive, more agitated than any of them had probably ever seen me be before.

  

It all started with a simple question about Ebola.  One of pure innocence and wanting to understand.  I tried to sit on my hands and clamp my mouth, but I'm afraid I inundated her and the rest of my rather captive audience.

 

"You probably don't know, but I've been to Liberia.  I worked in a medical clinic there."  I hastened to add "Just for a week... in high school. But I worked with..." My voice trailed off.  "Well I know some of the people who have died from Ebola."  My voice caught and I also realized my matter of fact tone.  

{I know "some" is the overstatement of the year! I know a few, a handful of the many people who have died.  I know the people and the souls who lived in those bodies...Please give me grace}  

When you're dealing with disease, poverty, corruption, and a place half a world away sometimes you have to be matter of fact.  When you're dealing with all these things you can't change, sometimes you just have to stick to your guns that you will not be emotionally effected by these truths.  Because sometimes the more you hear something the more it becomes real.  And your active imagination can see these things, you can touch them, and you can smell them.

 

That's the thing about Liberia, it has a smell.  You can smell the red earth, the moisture in the air, the air itself.  Sometimes the perfume mixes in the smoky charcoal texture.  There are other things that have a smell - so does disease, poverty, corruption.

 

What I appreciated about these women around me was their questions and their general acceptance of the things that I was sharing.  Not that I was sharing the correct information or that I didn't have some of my facts jumbled.  It was rather that they listened and accepted me.  They accepted that this was something that as important to me and that I really did check the news everyday for stories.  To me it gave me life to see these faces looking at me, eager to hear words, and open arms to my heart.

 

I didn't talk about my friends or the culture.  I didn't talk about specifics.  Just the news, and some of a recent missionary update.  And when I talked about it at the end I wanted it to be all about hope.  All about the things that were beautiful coming out of this horrendous situation.  All of the things where God was being glorified.

Challenges of Growing

 

I planted a few things a few weeks ago.  I was preparing to do an Instagram post and get all artsy.  There was all this prep for real life.  It was slightly absurd.  And I decided to just dig in.  Literally.  I decided that it was ok to be messy.  My fingernails had dirt under them for days.  I washed them many times, to the point of needing lotion after every wash.  Frankly, an unnatural thing for me. 

I dug in, to the messy side of life.  Once I made the decision I was gleeful.  It was exhilarating.  I dug and planted, patted, and watered with abandon.

Some of the seeds will come up.  They are finally coming up.  It’s just 2, but it’s a blessing.  I am so thankful for the rain, so I wouldn’t forget to water these fragile biological lives.  But some of the seeds won’t come up.  They were doomed from the beginning.  They were never going to be, no matter how carefully handled.

See, there are two things I take away from this.  There will be dreams, no matter how big {these are bulbs we’re talking about} that are not going to happen.  They were an idea, which was not firmly rooted.  They were doomed from the beginning.  But that does not mean that they never should have been planted, nurtured, and hoped for.  Most of all hoped for.

The same goes for the messy side of life.  There are arguments that we can dig for just the right information, argument, rebuttal.  But the thing is, were not going to win it.  Not that battle.  And that is ok.  We can not win them all.  We can not always be right, we can not always have beautiful flowers without the dirt beneath our finger nails.  For if we did not enter into the messy, we would not fully understand the challenge of growing.

I hope for those seedlings and bulbs to grow.  I want to see the dirt give way to beautiful life.  I want the reminder that beautiful things come out of the messy, hard, challenges.

The challenges are what make life a beautiful adventure.

Worlds Collide

Source

 

 

I love seeing people become friends and connect.  I love the stories of how people met, or know each other.  One of my best friends and I love to tell the story of our first meeting.  We even fight about it and cut in on each other like an old married couple.  It’s great fun!

Lately I’ve found my connections are varied, wide, and cross over.   Part of it, but not all of it, is the fact that I grew up and lived in the same neighborhood for my whole life.  And I don’t live in a small town.

I should also note that I went to public school, but not my neighborhood {two blocks out my front door} high school.  This means my circles were broadened.  I also went to a big university, ok moderately big, but lots of room for meeting people.

Last week, I went to a meeting of college and post college people, and my worlds collided in one room.  There were people from my high school, people that I knew when they were 7, and people I met last weekend.  There were people I’ve known for most of my life, people I’ve known for a few months and people I’ve known for a few weeks.  And it was crazy because some of them knew each other.   Even last night I got asked by a friend that was there that night, ‘How do you know so-and-so?’

The reasons we know each other are crazy.  It can by choice or circumstance.  It can grow or can trickle off.  It takes work to keep up contact, yet sometimes people collide.  And when we collide we cross over, above, and underneath each other.  We create a web.  We become intertwined.  Our stories although our own, become a part of another’s through connection and relationship.

Even when you know no one in a place, there is a connection.  Someone you know, knows someone or something about that place.  Somewhere there is a connection.  And believe me you can find it.  But it takes listening, it takes sharing, and sometimes it takes lots of questions over a long period of time.  I promise you, you have connection.  We were meant to build relationships and relationships {most of them} are built out of connections.  Isn’t it crazy wonderful how they shape our stories!

How are your worlds colliding?  How do you know so-and-so?  Was yours a chance meeting or a deliberate collision?  What’s your craziest world collision story?

Expected Response

Last night it was 10 and I shut off my phone.  I was so distracted by it.  My focus was not in the things I needed to do, was not on the screen in front of me {otherwise known as this blog}, and my brain was tired.  So I shut it off.

I wrote a draft for a blog post about 2 weeks ago about expectations and vulnerability.  {FYI: I didn’t publish it, because honestly I just needed to type and get words on a page.  When I read through it I discovered there were holes and rabbit trails, so I filed it away.}   It got me thinking about the expected response.  We have an expected response from those around us.  We have an expected response of the things we post, link, gram, pin, tweet, copy and paste.  We expect an audience and expect specific responses.

Part of the reason I turned off my phone was because something I had posted on the internets was not getting the response I wanted it to get.  It was information that was for the betterment of others, not myself, but the motivation was for the betterment of me.  I would not have seen that underlying motivation if I received the response I wanted.  In the words of a friend “So I guess that’s good.”

When I turn my phone on this morning I may have notifications and little messages that show that I got the response I wanted.  And that’s ok.  Or I may have no notifications and that’s ok too.  But the point is my worth is not determined by the response I get.  My worth was already determined long before I was born.

 

I realize that the last few posts around here have been heavy and anything but lighthearted.  Thanks for reading or skimming {whatever you do}.  Some of this has thoughts about my life and others about the things going on in ‘my world.’  One of such events has been a sweet family whose story is written at the blog Charlie’s Song.  Needless to say, there are no rosecolored glasses around here!

Grief

In grief it is often hard to do something tangible.  It is difficult because grief is the reality of a feeling.  Grief wreaks the body.  It seeps into the cracks.  It overcomes the strong and brings them to their knees to where the feeble are.  Grief it has a pattern, but can not be explained.

 

It is difficult to describe grief because it is different in every situation and circumstance.  It changes and morphs.  The response to grief varies.  Will this be the correct response for this person in this moment?  Or is better to wait?  Better to hold ones tongue?  Better to hug?  Or better to let be?

When presented with grief it is hard to know how to respond and it is hard to do something tangible.  Yet in the midst of tragedy there are tangible things that can be done.  Meals can be brought, clothes cleaned, houses swept, children looked after.  And though tragedy and grief are not mutually exclusive the way they are responded to looks so very different.

In grief I will meet you. 

In tragedy and suffering I can meet your needs.

Breathe

Source

 

His chest heaved, labored, his face red.  He squirmed, trying to pry himself from the situation.  ‘Hey T we’re going to take 3 deep breaths… 1 {inhale, exhale}…2 {inhale, exhale}…stay with me buddy, one more 3 {inhale, exhale}.’  In and out, his chest rises and falls.  Easy rhythm.  Life goes on.

T is all boy, rambunctious, energy, and lover of water.  At 2 and a half, he needs to be reminded that one of the most basic functions sometimes needs thought.  He needs to remember that breathing puts things in perspective.

In the midst of sadness, I breathe. 

In the midst of anger, I breathe. 

In the midst of hope, I breathe.

I stop I breathe, and often pray, before moving into the situation. 

Breathing is supposed to be this non thinking, easy, does it by itself, function and yet, sometimes it’s not.  We need to breathe to have life.  What a concept.  But when we think about this thing that does well all by itself and doesn’t need help, we realize that sometimes it needs reminders.  It needs reminders to slow down.  To take it all in.

When I think about what it means to breathe I find that the focus shifts to that one thing that allows me to keep on living. 

Let’s take deep breaths together.  Let’s realize that the rise and fall rhythm gives us life in more ways than one.

Where I'm At

I’m making a list and throwing it on the page {cause I’m a list person}.  I’m working through some things, and thinking lots.  Here’s what I’m thinking and learning about.  It’s nowhere an exhaustive list, but you have to start somewhere.

Things I’m learning, which tells you a lot about where I’m at in life:

-          I can’t see the whole picture, like most of the time.  And sometimes I can’t see the whole picture because I’m not looking in the right place. {Case in point: if you can’t see the whole website, go to full screen view…}

-          Laugh at yourself, and let some things reflect off you

-          Lots of things break your heart, like words, not always people

-          Music is good, and so is coffee, and chocolate cake

-          Sleep is good too

-          Life moves up and down emotionally

-          Confidence, boldness, uncomfortable

-          Dreaming,  it’s ok, the bigger the better

-          Things take time…yea

-          Dig deeper

-          Explore

-          You can’t go back, you can only move forward, so take a step

-          Sometimes you do the thing you most don’t want to do, over, and over, and over

-          Sometimes you don’t make sense, and that’s ok too

Garden

Today I went to a community garden.  I’m not a frequent gardener, both in the sense of the community garden and my own life.  I seem to get distracted and then the plant dies or something of nature happens.  It’s like I can’t get in the habit.  It’s not a top priority, so it slips below almost everything else on the list of things to do.

 

Just because I don’t garden much doesn’t mean I don’t like it.  Every once in a while I long to feel dirt under my fingernails {in places where it gets stuck…forever}.  I love seeing the electric green color after a fresh rain or watering.  I love the sweet smell of growth.  {Ok, I could pass on the smell of super fresh dirt}.  I love the soothing rhythm of turning the dirt and digging holes for the promise of seedlings.

Today was about working in the earth, ease of conversation and feeling rather than seeing.  Gardening is an experience.  I got invited in a passing thought to join a new friend in her space, with her growth, and her veggies.  There was order and freedom in that space.  It seems odd, but the vegetables were in rows and we looked at the plot like a puzzle seeing were a row could be finished or a new one created.  Order.  There was freedom in stepping in the dirt, kneeling and having nothing but air around.  The only boundary at that point is the ground, which isn’t much.  Freedom.

I didn’t add a picture, because when I picture the space, feel the experience, and imagine the growth of that plot, I can then erase the distractions.  I can make the clutter of the surrounding areas disappear.  If only it was that simple in life.  In only it was easy to focus and be focusing on the right things.  If only the distractions could be erased, the clutter instantly invisible.  When I see the confusion all around I am returned to thankfulness, I turn to compassion, I give mercy, and I am reminded of humbleness.

 

By the way, if you are a lover of children’s books please read The Gardener by Sarah Stewart and David Small.  They have excellent books and this is one of my favorites.  {So much so, that as a child I met them and have a signed copy}

Here we go

Every year our family writes a Christmas card that is then scattered across the United States via US Postal service.  Within the envelope is not only a picture {or many} from the year but also a note, an update.  It highlights the big accomplishments and the everyday activities.  No we don’t talk about what we eat or our brand of dish soap, but the soccer practices, volleyball games, and dance classes.  This year I felt as if I had nothing to write.  I felt as if I did nothing that could be considered noteworthy.

 

The truth…I did.  I did many things that in my warped view of thinking are not important.  In others views, they are exciting, growth, and things to celebrate.  But the thing about these activities is that each has a story attached to it.  We don’t do because we have too.  I mean, I guess we could, but hopefully we don’t add things to our lives because we have too.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t make sacrifices in doing things for others or that we don’t have activities that we do because it’s our responsibility and our duty.  I’m saying that life should not be lived as a string of responsibilities that flow into a single string of mundane.  Life should be lived with a proper sense of accomplishment, celebration, and joy.  Even in the sorrow and the darkness, there is cause for celebration and an unspeakable joy can be found.

Today was a day where I found delight and joy.  It wasn’t because things went my way, or I hung out with my friends all day.  I did fairly ordinary things for a 22 year old of normal US life.  I woke up later than I ever planned to, which usually makes me annoyed.   But today, I woke up and I was next to my dear friend with the Rose Parade making sounds from the living room TV.  In pajamas we went to the living room and had homemade cinnamon rolls and Momma made us lattes.  This is tradition, the parade on New Year’s morning, cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate.  I’ve graduated from hot chocolate, but it depends on the morning.

We lounged around, talking and laughing.  The parade led into the outdoor hockey game and we let it be.  There was more movement, clothes put on, faces washed, tidying of beds, and blankets.  My brother came home with a friend, and mine left.  But before she did we spent time talking about work and life, venting and talking as one topic transitioned into the next.  Before long the time had slipped away and we were still standing in the street.

There was searching for the football game and finally streaming it.  There was a spread of leftovers from the party last night.  In between all the activity errands were run, simple house chores were done, and the day crept on.  I’m not a football watcher, but for some reason I wanted to watch today.  It was enjoyable to me.

Before the game was done we headed off to the movies for our New Year’s tradition.  We watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.  It was better than I expected and I think I sat on travel bugs because I got bit.

During the day we hadn’t prepped for the night, so dinner was take out burritos from our favorite place.  There was conversation around the table and a little interrogation of our guest.  It was followed by goodbyes, the clearing of plates, and curling up on the couch with a new book from Christmas. 

This day, it didn’t go as a planned.  But really, I couldn’t have planned the little details.  I was surprised, delighted, and yes there were even moments of annoyance.  It was a good day for a new year.  This New Year it’s like the ones before; fresh, crisp, ready.  So here we go.

Thanksgiving Reflections

You wouldn’t know it, but I love Thanksgiving.  It’s my favorite holiday, for a few reasons.  I realize that it is December 1^st and with the change in the month it is now ok for Christmas to be the next big thing.  In my head it’s not December yet.  So let me tell you a little about Thanksgiving before you move on in your festivities. 

When a family or a group of friends gather on Thanksgiving, they bring food.  And although food can be a present, there is no pressure to find and bring a gift.  In many ways it is the holiday where you can come as you are.  One’s presence is what makes the difference.  One’s presence is the gift. 

When we want to make someone comfortable, we offer them food or drink.  Food, nourishment of the body, brings people together.  Everyone needs food, it is required, a necessity.  And so, besides the gluttony title that this holiday has taken on, it is the perfect combination of bringing people together, satisfying a natural need, and setting the table for relationships to form.

It is incredible that the United States has a day where things are {supposed to be} closed and the whole nation gives thanks.  We as a people do not realize the amazing things and opportunities we’ve been blessed with.  I know that we don’t all have the same privileges available to us, but we have so much.  It is refreshing to know that there is a time where I am forced to say I am blessed, I am loved, and I have much.

The final reason why I treasure this holiday has to do with heritage.  My ethnic heritage is ummm, well… I’m a Western European mix {look to the right for exhibit A}.  When people talk about traditions that have ethnic or cultural roots, I’m at a loss.  Thanksgiving is my heritage.  I had an ancestor that came over on the Mayflower.  When I say I’ve been here too long that the handed down traditions have faded, it’s true.  {Another side of my family came over in the mid 1700s.  Yep, I’ve been in this country for a long time.}

I am so thankful for this legacy.  It means that traditions are made by my family and shaped by the things that we hold dear.  The traditions aren’t something that has to be kept, but rather they are things that are formed through the making of memories.

Lately

Lately I’ve been reading The Ragamuffin Gospel and I love it.  It’s taking me awhile to get through it.  I started on my trip and have continued in little moments here and there.  I love books and reading.  By the time I finish this one I won’t remember what happened in the beginning and have to start all over again.  That is typical for me these days.

 

The other day I was reading a chapter and it talked about how God sees each of us.  And then it said something in a most profound, roundabout way. It was to the effect of; our hearts should break when we hear about the person in the car accident, the children dying of starvation in third world countries, and the ‘enemy’ our military is fighting.  When any one person dies, there are people that are affected.  There are family and friends, and even the person they passed each day, which are impacted.

I was thinking about the fact that each of us wants attention.  We want to be known and loved for who we are, and nothing else.  The amount of love songs and break up songs on the radio attests to this fact. And yet, we rarely grieve over the ‘enemy’ that dies in battle, the lost and searching souls.  We get wrapped up in our world and how it matters to us.  Each person, no matter what ethnic or theological background is a child and beloved of God.  The person that is different in every possible way from you was created by God to be just that…different.

Ok, now that I’ve totally made you think deep {and what is in my head probably didn’t come out the way I intended} let’s do a little life update.  I too want to be known and want to tell you about me. {I’m just being honest!}

 

 

I haven’t forgotten about the stories of my adventures In Western Europe.  To be honest I’ve barely looked at the pictures.  I am trying to settle back into life here in the States and picking up what I dropped in my wake. 

For those of you that don’t know, in the last couple of months I graduated from college, moved back home, am looking for a job, and trying to figure out what my community looks like for the time being. {Oh, and we should throw in the weddings that I’ve been in and attended.  There are some pretty special people that should get some blog time.}

To say that life is changing is an understatement. 

It’s beautiful, exciting, challenging and a bit overwhelming.

I’m being challenged to change my perspective and see my life now as a joyful journey of opportunities.  At least that is what I pray my attitude is becoming.

Join me in thinking outside your world, in maybe a way you haven’t before?  I cant wait to hear what you find

Tuning and Pruning

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been thinking about tuning and pruning lately.  It’s the perfect season right now.  Spring is coming out in beautiful flowers, longer days, and peaceful sunsets.  And time is slipping and swishing past.

But the reason I’ve been thinking about tuning is for my love of music.  I was thinking about how I regret in some ways not pushing myself more to learn an instrument when I was young.  I think I was fearful of the time and commitment that it would take to practice.  I was fearful of failing expectations.

And now I sit in the coffee house just off campus.  There are so many things that are buzzing about this place, but the one that stands out is the man tuning the piano.  It’s the most atrocious sound.  It goes above all the other noises, above the people talking, and the typing, and paper crinkling. 

It stands out. 

It’s different and unusual, but that’s not why it stands out.  It stands out because it sounds awful.  It takes time hitting the keys and hearing horrible noises to make the piano just right.  And in the same way the tuning in our lives is accomplished.  It takes time to be refined, tuned, and form new habits.  It takes time to deal with the problems and the issues. 

Every so often we need to be tuned and it is a process.  Its takes work and it can be awful.  We want to run away from the pain that we hear or feel or that is a part of the process.  But there is hope.

In the end, after the tuning, the piano makes beautiful music.  The sound that was once horrible is one that draws people in.  From the broken and messiness comes the beautiful.  The process makes the end note that much sweeter.  Refining in the tuning and pruning becomes beautiful.

 

 

 

 

Most Thankful

When you are celebrating with your friends or families today and setting aside what I hope will be a day of reflection and of thanksgiving, what are you most thankful for?

At the end of it all I am most thankful for people.  Yes, all people.  How many people in my life are there that I don’t tell them that I am thankful for them, that I appreciate them, that they have an impact on me?

Today, or tomorrow {or whenever you read this} I want you to think who you are most thankful for and maybe don’t know it.  Please write in the comments section and then commit to doing something for or saying something to that person.  Your comments can be anonymous.

Brave

Via

I love reading the thoughts of another blogger named Hayley.  She is a woman who is a different place in life as a mom to almost 4 boys.  Yikes! I am inspired by and thinking because of her article called “Brave.”  I like to dream, but I don’t know if I am brave.  In a lot of ways I really am not.  I don’t like to fail.  And wow, do I not like others to know my failings.  I am learning.  I am learning how to open up.  And yes I fail.  Miserably.  I am exceptional at failure.  And it is teaching me that I need to let others know that I know that they will fail and that I will give grace and that I love them.  I need to learn how to communicate those things better.

 

A little deep for a Monday, but I feel so inspired by a conversation this morning and recent thoughts. 

Are you brave?