WHAT TO DO... WHAT TO DO?

Do you ever piddle away at little things because they’re… well, little?  I sure do.  Right now I’m obsessing over whether to get new cell phone or not.  I mean, I’ve dropped mine a couple of times, and it’s beginning to get glitchy.  Is that really how I should spend the better part of day – cruisin’ through Amazon and Verizon looking for the best deal?  If I keep this up I’ll fall into that pseudo-spiritual black hole that makes people ask: Would Jesus have an iPhone or a Droid?

I’m confessing this so I’ll stop doing it… stop going down these rabbit trails and begin my trek into the great unknown.  Sometimes the thought of “the possible,” of what might happen if I simply leapt in faith, scares the fool outta me.  Maybe that’s one way to get rid of the “fool” part and start actually becoming all those things I say I believe.  You know, things like:  I am a child of God… I can rise up and soar like an eagle… I am free, forgiven, loved… I can do all things through Christ who infuses me with strength… that in me is the power to raise the dead.  And this is only the proverbial tip of the iceberg. If these are just mere metaphors, then I should shut up and be content with whatever rut feels the best.  But if all these things are true…

I can leap.

It’s overwhelming sometimes. Okay, most of the time. I feel so very small.  I guess that doesn’t matter – what matters is believing more in God’s abilities than in my inabilities.  

And now I just need to back up… begin to run… hit the edge of the cliff and……

EPIC FAIL... OR ADVENTURE?

Still processing the last few days.  Rewind – make that the last few months.  We (I) gave our groundbreaking presentation at Belmont.  Right.  Mixed reviews and mixed emotions – and it hurt.  I was very brave immediately after, but when adrenaline and shock wore off it began to sting.  I wanted it to be epic.  It was not.  It was “okay.”  Part of me wants to say “epic fail” – but that wouldn’t be true either.   I was not comfortable, and it showed. 

Now what?  I go to Daddy and hand Him my broken toy and see what He can do with it.  Daddy knows.  Compared to His plans for me this “just okay” workshop is a broken toy.  

I could say this is just an iceberg tip… an indication of a larger problem.  Or I could simply say it’s a course correction.  Or I could keep my mouth shut and let Daddy tell me what it actually is.  Like a leaf in autumn, these little deaths burn away the green and reveal the true colors underneath.  In the little death, beauty is revealed.  I can’t see it… I have no mirror for my experience, but if Daddy says it, He will make it so.

I do think He has placed a flame inside me… something that is burning the rubble away.  I do think He has dreamed a dream in me… something bigger than me that only He can do.  I do think He plotting a course for me, setting Himself as a star above me and is unlashing me from my safe harbor. 

I get scared – but I do trust Him.

Lead on Daddy…

HARD LESSON HOPE

It’s been a few days… time off for a couple of hard lessons.  I know, I know… “sheesh, is she gonna do another downer of a post?”  Well… no.  I’m not gonna make it a downer of a post.  This is a hope post… the kind where you’re hiking through a dark woods and suddenly you come to a clearing.  Sun is shining, a cool breeze blows and you see how far you’ve come... but  wait, I’m not done!  Shimmering on the far horizon, you see your destination.  You see your path.  You don’t know what you’ll encounter on the way, but you see there is a way.  Hope.

It was a rough week up until my hope moment.  I get small when things get rough.  I think small, I dream small, I nibble at the day until I’ve simply chewed it all away. I felt very un-heroic last week… very hurt. Hurt by someone I once trusted. And when you let hurt become your reality then it’s game over.  But then…

I came out of the woods.  Denny and I left our 4 bruised little walls and went to a party.  There is nothing like laughter and healthy companionship to snap the chains of self-absorption.  But that’s not the hope moment.  That moment came as a result of the party.  We were invited to church… and the bulletin may as well have said, “Hi Sandy and Denny – this service is for you.”  The songs, the prayers said for us, the words spoken over us were… Hope.  And Life.  And a big old Daddy hug from God. It was a glimmer, a shimmering dancing vision of the journey ahead.  And it was good.  

Thank you Daddy – I needed that…

THE THINGS YOU LEARN IN A TRUCK…

One thing I learned about moving your entire life in a 26ft. truck – you need to make sure you have Kleenex… lots and lots of Kleenex.  And don’t be afraid to use them. 

The night before we left in that truck God gave us a full moon rising over the mountains behind our house.  I still cry a little thinking about it.  It’s moments, eternity-scented moments like that, that make me realize that 13 years is no small thing.  I am imprinted by early morning mists and winter wheat softly breathing in the wind.  I’ve seen perfect snowfields illuminated by moonlight, hang-gliders sky-dancing on summer evenings, I’ve seen seasons unfold and refold themselves… and somehow, unaware, 13 years slipped by.  When you’re in a truck pulling away, you feel the roots pulling out of the ground… that’s when you realize what 13 years really meant.

Another thing I learned in the truck is that there is no better companion than my husband… and if you let these “hauling your life in a truck” experiences teach you, you begin to see what you really have.  I have someone who loves me unconditionally, who is clear as glass, tender as silk, and strong as iron.  We cried and laughed and cried some more and asked God a lot of questions.  And we did it together.  Yeah, when you’re driving away in a truck, you learn what “together” means.

One more thing I learned in a truck – be ready for surprises.  About half-way through the journey, we looked out the window and saw a pick-up pulling a smaller trailer.  Hmmm… another couple in transition.  Double-take.  It wasn’t just another couple, it was fellow refugees from where we worked, on their way to Texas to find a place to live! Waving and catcalling out the window led to a truck stop lunch together.  It was a joy.  It was a delight.  It was just what we all needed. It was more than a happenstance – it was a mini surprise party planned by God.

Lessons of the Truck say there are no accidents, only adventures.  These are just a few of the things I have learned in a 26ft. truck on the road to my future. 

And “the road goes ever on and on…”

TRANSITIONS...

Transitions usually happen with a change.  Duh.  But I mean a big change… like uprooting a life of 13 years, putting it in a 26 ft. truck, and moving to a place you’ve never lived before – in fact, a place you’ve barely visited.  That’s “transition.”  I could get into the “whys” of it all, give you a blow by blow account of what pushed us off the cliff into the unknown, but that would just muddle things up even more.  Bottom line – God orchestrates every movement into unexpected symphonies, no matter how painful the process has been…

And it has hurt.  A lot.  Still does.

Funny thing about hurt.  It’s like a chemical scrub – layers of things begin to peel off.  Things like defenses, assumptions, agendas – things you didn’t even know were there – until all that’s left is what’s real.  Being naked before God is not a pretty thing, no matter how spiritual you think you are.  I mean, this is where theory – and theology – has to become reality.  Can you trust God when there’s nothing else left to trust?  If I’m being real, I have to say it’s hard – real hard, because I like the things I can see and touch.  I like to know there is a visible cushion when I fall… and most days I feel like I’m in free fall without a parachute.  No matter how I try to distract myself from this realness, it’s just there.  And I’m unclothed of myself, waiting for Daddy to dress me.  

Do I trust Him?  Every day is a boots on the ground working out of that question.  I’m not writing a story – I’m in the middle of one, one more real than location… more real than stuff… 

I guess this is what I mean by “transition.”

Welcome to my world...

I have officially applied to the Procrastinators club – or plan to do so soon.  I was going to start this blog in September and now it’s…. well, not September.

I’m not sure why it’s so intimidating.  Good grief, I’ve been a writer since parchment and stylus were all the rage.  (Okay, that was an exaggeration…)  The point is I don’t know what it is about blogs.  Maybe it’s the feeling of talking to yourself in an empty room – I mean, is anyone out there actually reading this?  Or maybe it’s the fear that someone is reading – and judging.  Am I clever enough?  Am I clear enough?  Am good enough?  Blogs can be intimate or off-putting (yes, I used “off-putting” in a sentence…).  It’s a risk, but I’ve gotten this nagging sense that God wants me to do this, so… here I am. Here you are.  Here is my world.

I’m calling this little universe Muddlesville.  It is what it says it is… me trying to muddle my way through this new chapter of my life.  I may be erractic, random, funny, profound, or just plain “huh?” to those who dare to enter my world.  But that’s me… and you are welcome to join me in this silly, surprising, sometimes stumbling exploration of this land.

Welcome to Muddlesville…