Reinventing myself

I read an article last year called “Reinventing Yourself: What you should know before setting out in search of a new career.”*

It made me think of all the different hats and titles I’ve worn during my adult years. Here are a few of them.

• Stay at home mom and domestic engineer
• Older adult college student
• Secretary and Paralegal
• Drama team co-leader
• Office manager
• Member services director
• Professional organizer
• Referring travel agent
• Mary Kay consultant
• Music teacher
• Caregiver
• Administrator

As I look at that list, I perceive that life keeps changing. Duh! It’s so easy to see that looking backward but not so easy moving forward into it at a new turn in the road.

Sometimes a dead-end forced me to branch off toward the unfamiliar and scary. At other times the prospect was a dream I had never dared to pursue.

All of them took courage I didn’t think I possessed. Many times I felt I was drowning because I didn’t know what I was doing. Often I prayed for wisdom and to learn quickly.

And I found that courage comes when we do what we fear.

I’ve learned more from the journey than I ever did in the classroom. Some things can’t be taught, only experienced.

Each hat I wore brought knowledge I would not trade, though some I certainly would not want to relive.

As an old commercial reverberates, “You’ve come a long way, baby.” And I guess I have.

I expect, and rightly so, that there will be more roadblocks, more dead ends, more Ys in the road, more choices and hats to try on, more days to learn and grow.

The fact is, I never invented or re-invented myself at all. I am a project in the making, a vessel of clay that is continually being molded and conformed, mended and repaired.

God’s hand moves the wheel of my forming, using the good, the bad, and the ugly to make me more and more into the image He wants.

It is the model of Jesus He is pressing for.

I am His project and He is committed to complete it.

“I am sure of this, that He who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6, HCS)

At this place on my journey, I am confident of this: God will do what God will do. He is the sovereign Lord in charge of all of creation. If I try to resist His remaking of me, I will find myself kicking against His plan, not a place I want to be.

There is surrender in this process. A daily call to crucify my flesh and its desires. A continual seeking to know His will and the courage to walk in it even when I am afraid.

What kind of hats have your worn?  Which hat are you wearing now?

How is your journey going?

* Kentucky Living, February 2011

Lifting spirits

A friend gave me some advice last year during one of my dark moods.

She told me to write down ten things that might lift my spirits, that could bring a touch of  joy.  She said when life gets especially tough, I should try to do one or more of those things.

I took her advice and started a list.  At the time I could only come up with six things; it was a stretch for me then.   I’ll admit the feeling of happy has been like an illusive butterfly, floating in and floating out on the winds of circumstances at unexpected moments.

But over the months I referred to that list.  I reached deep down and gathered strength to do one thing now and then.  And sure enough, a cheerful few moments emerged, enough to lift my spirit and bring me back to the list again.

I have found through a simple little activity that I have more control over my own mood than I gave myself credit for.  I have too willingly succumbed to the sadness and the bad news, to the rising pressure around me.

Instead of being affected by life’s temperature, I should be a thermostat, creating an environment for joy and contentment and praise.

After all, didn’t James, Paul, and David write for my instruction:

“Consider it pure joy . . . “

“I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” 

“Let everything that has breath, praise the Lord!”

What we call happiness is nothing more than a fleeting emotion based upon the most current event.  Lots of things can trigger happiness.  And lots of things can bring it crashing to the ground.

I’m learning that joy, contentment and praise are spiritual disciplines that should not be affected by the blowing breezes of daily occurance which will change like the weather in Kentucky.

Hey, this is nothing new.  I’ve known it for a very long time.  Apparently it is something I need to re-learn now and again.

So here are my ten activities (yes, I completed the list) that I can proactively do to lift my spirits and settle myself back into joy, contentment, and praise:

1. Feed the birds. Is there anything that teaches me more about God’s provision than watching the birds eat seed at my feeder? I remember that His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
2. Send an encouraging message to someone via snail mail, email, Facebook or phone.  I’ve been on the receiving end of kind words so many times.  Both make me feel better.
3. Do a random act of kindness.  It is impossible to pour love on someone without some of it splashing back on me.
4. Prepare a gift and give it.  Once again, I feel the droplets of goodness falling all around me.
5. Smell the roses.  My garden revives me.  In winter, the blooming house plants of violet, kalanchoe, and Christmas cactus are my simple pleasures.  
6. Organize something.  This won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, I know.  But cleaning out the junk drawer, organizing a coat closet, or putting the CDs in alphabetical order is therapy for me. When life feels out of control, having some things in control helps me stay sane.
7. Journal.  Writing my feelings is healing, releasing pent-up emotions that do not need to be spewed on loved ones standing close by.  If the words come out too rough, I can always tear out the page and throw it away.
8. Sip from a comforting cup.  No matter if it’s coffee the way I like it - strong and hot with cream - or one of those frou-frou coffee milkshake concoctions or a cup of Earl Grey tea, choosing the right container, be it a sturdy mug or a delicate tea cup, is part of the comfort.
9. Talk. There are people who really do want to know how I feel when they ask, “How are you today.”   With those rare few, I can be real.  I can let my hair down and pour out my heart and know I am in a safe place.
10. Turn up the music.  Songs can sooth me, change my mood, and cause me to sing along.  Before I realize it, I’m whistling a happy tune.

Well, there is my list of ten.  None of them will change my world.  They will, however, change me.  Instead of a view of the dark tunnel, I turn my gaze outward and upward.  Doing  a simple something may be just the nudge I need to remember I have a great God who cares for me.

 

Do you have a list of your own?  I would love for you to it with me.

Pruning

I’m a wanna-be-gardener. I just play at it, but I have fun doing it. 

I don’t prepare my soil well enough, adding compost or checking for proper alkalinity or acidity. I’ve planted things in the wrong location for it to flourish. I’ve let some plants stay out all winter which has sapped them of strength and beauty. Miraculously, some have survived. And I am amazed.

Sill, I’ve had some success with my accidental way of putting things into the ground.

I have a few early bulbs that surprise me through a late season snowfall. In spring my yard glows with all shades of pink, red, and purple while the azaleas are in bloom. All summer and fall I enjoy how the colors change from season to season.  It’s God’s lavish way of producing fruit from my shabby labor. 

I’ve got plenty of garden books and read them randomly when I need information. When I follow the directions, it seems to help. Go figure.

So I had these two blank canvases on either side of our garage door, all white and asking for something colorful there. I tried placing large clay pots in the area one year, filling them with annuals that bloomed and looked pretty for a season. But then I moved the pots somewhere else.

Later I envisioned small topiary trees growing all perfectly round and proportional, looking artistic and lovely. Ah, but what I wanted would cost more than I wanted to spend. I needed another idea.

On the back side of our house grows a very large Rose of Sharon bush. It has a purple double bloom in late summer that is gorgeous.

It has dropped seed over the years and stray bushes have grown up. Two particular small ones were growing right next to the house along the foundation. They needed to be removed, and frugal one that I am, I figured these two little saplings would be perfect for my project. 

Just the right size to start my own topiaries, I set about to remove their roots from the soil where they were firmly attached.  It was no easy task.  I dug, pulled, dug some more, and pulled some more until they loosened their grip and let go.

I planted the little trees on either side of the garage door and commenced the pruning process to help them take the shape I envisioned. It was snipping here and there, cutting back hard in places, positioning a stake and tying them off so they would stand tall and straight. Somehow they survived the first season.

It’s been several years since that planting. There have been many clipping of branches, shaping these small trees into slender trunks with nice roundness to their leaves and flowers. They are beginning to take shape. The one on the right side really looked pretty last summer when it bloomed.

They other one, however, wants to take its own shape. It seems a little rebellious. I let it grow as it would through summer, allowing the flowers to flourish. But I had my eye on it, knowing when blooming season was over, I would be grabbing my pruning shears.

And that’s just what I did. When the flowers had faded and were hanging dead and brown, I began to clip away. I staked it again and pulled it into a more upright position. That little tree was pruned hard by my own hand, but by the time I was finished, it was more rounded like its sister tree a few yards away.

I think I am that little rebellious tree, pulled up from a comfortable place where I was content to grow, my roots dug in tight. I want my own way, my routine, and my plan. I like it when other people cooperate with my ideas.  (anybody else?)

The Lord takes us as we are but does not intend to let us stay that way. 

There is a pruning process going on in me. It is painful. I’m trying to be submissive. My “will” wants to; my “flesh” struggles.

My Father knows best and does what He does for my good and to fulfill His greater purpose. He has a vision of what He wants me to become.  I know that with all my heart, even when it does not feel good at all and I cannot understand the purpose for the pain.

I have to remind myself (often!) that it’s not all about me even though sometimes I just want it to be.

I am trusting that the pruning will produce the beauty He desires, that one day He will look at me and be able to say, “Now she is growing nicely, just the way I planned.”

My little rebellious tree bears the mark of the cuts, the wounds.  But spring is coming, the hope of life renewed.  Spring is coming for me, too.

Ah Love!

Aren’t we all thinking of love this Valentine’s Day?  Perhaps you are hoping for an expression of devotion from that special someone.

Love is not really about hearts and flowers, candy or jewelry, the warm fuzzy feelings of “being in love,” or a nice Hallmark card.  (Sorry Hallmark; I do enjoy your movies and your accompanying commercials.)

Love is so much more.

We honor love on February 14.  So I have been considering the wonderous qualities of this thing called love.

Oddly enough my thoughts have gone to being an only child.  Because of it, I never experienced sibling rivalry or what some children think is divided attention from their parents.

Sweet William and I had an only child also, not by choice but by Providence.  All my affections were lavished on this one boy.  I put all my eggs in his basket. 

Years later when we learned we were to be grandparents, I was excited about adding a girl-child to our family.  At the moment our first and only granddaughter was born I fell madly in love with her. 

When she was about 4 years old, her mom and dad told us they were expecting another child.  I never voiced it, but honestly I wondered how I could possibility love another grandchild like I loved the first one.  I had no experience in loving a second child.

My concerns were completely unfounded and proved to be untrue when I met the second tiny little girl.  How could I have known my heart would burst wide open for her.  Alas, when the third grandchild came along, I had this love thing down.  I never doubted for a minute that he would make his own wonderful place in my heart.  And he did.

So there is the premise for my thoughts about love.  Just when we think we have given it all away, someone else comes into our lives to love.  Wonder of wonders, our love multiplies, and we have more than enough to give again.

I have proven it to be true as the years have added family members by birth and by marriage.  Friends, young and older, have found their way into my life, and more love sprang up from a well deep within me.  I have discovered I have an enlarged heart and it’s incurable!

Atheists can argue that we evolved to this.  I beg to differ.  We are born completely self-centered while parents, teachers, ministers, and counselors try to teach us to share our toys and to think about someone other than ourselves. 

We are not naturally others-focused. 

Where else could this capacity to love come from but the God who reveals Himself as Love, who showed His love in the most tangible way on Calvary’s cross when we did not love Him?

This love shows up in an aged wife who spends her days and energy caring for her ailing husband because he took care of her so many years.

It is pictured in the baby-boomer adult children who are now in the role of providing for the needs of parents who can no longer live on their own.

I see it in those who open their homes and their hearts to foster children who may be so wounded they cannot return love yet.

The mother who wonders where her wayward child is tonight, who prays unceasingly, whose love will not let him go bears the mark of this love.

Loving the unlovely, the unloveable, the broken and the hopeless could only originate from the Eternal Originator of all things good and perfect. 

This wonderous thing we celebrate has its source in God.  For love is from God.

An old song comes to mind, the words of a poet, Frederick Lehman.

Could we with ink the ocean fill and were the skies of parchment made;

Were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade -

 To write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry,

Nor could the scroll contain the whole, tho’ stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!  How measureless and strong!

It shall forever more endure the saints and angels song

Happy Valentine’s Day dear ones, family and friends whom I love sincerely.  You have made my life richer and have filled my heart to overflowing.

 

The To-Do List

So how are those New Year resolutions going for you?

A lot of folks have abandoned one or more of them by now.  The vow to eat healthier is taking a beating tonight at some Super Bowl Party.  Getting more exercise got sidetracked when the weather just didn’t cooperate and the power walk was canceled.  Staying organized started well but now it’s tax time and trying to get all that paperwork together has taken priority.

You might remember that I did not make my normal list of  wonderful goals for 2012 that usually take up a couple of pages in my planner.  Life has just been too uncertain, too complicated, driven by the winds of adversity more than the sail of my own plan and purpose.  But I read something that caught my attention when it comes to finishing tasks and feeling that I’ve accomplished something. 

So I present here a To-Do List I can actually complete.      

• Hit the snooze button, several times.
• Fix coffee.  Drink it hot and strong with half and half cream.
• Sit in the rocker with the hot pad at my back while I have my quiet time with Bible in hand.
• Shower and wash my hair.
• Match my socks to my pants.
• Listen to the radio on the way to work.
• Chat with co-workers.
• Open email and respond to most of them.
• Eat something.
• Go home sooner or later.
• Feed the dog, the cat, the husband, and myself.
• Go to bed with a good book.
• Kiss Sweet William on his fuzzy cheek (he is sporting a full beard these days).

Yes sirree bob!  This is a list I can take care of and check off as completed.

Have a great day!   Hope you enjoyed this “just for fun” post.

Forty years ago . . .

Amidst the stark bareness of winter, I see it green and living, nestled and attached.

It is mistletoe in the upper branches of an old water maple tree that grows near my yard.  The bunch of green grows where nothing else does in the deep of winter. The season that hangs heavy around us.

And it reminds me . . . 

A tall young man, muscular and strong, walked with me, just a young woman, to the back of property owned by my uncle, Sam Rayhill, Jr.  It was just fields and high weeds and a few trees, a place for a courting couple to be together in the outdoors that seemed a bit of Heaven on earth for those who are young and falling in love.

We spied the mistletoe in the top of a tree that day. It was nearing Christmas, and wouldn’t fresh mistletoe be wonderful to hang in my mother and dad’s house, already decorated with reds and greens?

I’d never seen real living mistletoe before.  But how to get it out of that tall tree in the uppermost branches?  The tall young man borrowed my pellet gun, and we walked back to that tree.  He aimed with an eye trained to hit the target.  The bullet struck its mark, a piece of the mistletoe fell to the ground, and I thought he was just wonderful.

I gathered the green plant and took it to our house.  We hung it with some ribbon.  And we kissed underneath it.

Now, forty plus years later, life has taken its toll on that tall young man.  He has suffered much, grown weary at times with too many illnesses and too many surgeries.  Yet . . . he is still the one and only love of my life.  He is my hero, my friend.  After all these years, I still think he is so handsome.  And he tells me I am beautiful.  He will always make my heart thrill.  Today we celebrate 40 years of marriage.

We are two who have beaten the odds to remain as one.

We almost lost this precious gift of love, of covenant promised long ago. Once I held papers in my hand that read, “Petition for Dissolution of Marriage” and I cried, uncontrollable, inconsolable, unable to breathe. I had never wanted that.  Neither did he.  But there seemed to be no other solution.  Too much pain and too many hurtful words.  Too many misunderstandings and too much anger and too much pulling away.  Too much dysfunction.

How did we manage to salvage what was so broken and beyond repair?

Grace.

There is no other explanation except that God will have compassion on whom He will have compassion, as He told Moses on the mount when He revealed to him His glory (Exodus 33:19).   God’s glory announces “I AM” when He pours out compassion and mercy on souls so undeserving.  Souls like us.

And we were soaked, drenched, plunged into the glory.

Sweet William and I will rejoice in this milestone of our lives.  It will not be picture perfect this year.  No fine restaurant, no trip to the Bahamas, no sparkling gemstone in a setting of gold.

But we will celebrate nevertheless.  How can we not?  We who believed have seen the glory of God (John 11:40).

The glory that picks up the pieces of shattered lives, that puts brokenness back together while leaving the scars.

The glory that restores what the locusts had eaten and destroyed only to gives life in its place.

The glory of love renewed from Love Himself.

The glory of covenant kept and of legacy passed to the next generation and the next.

The glory of grace.

I love you, Sweet William.  Happy Anniversary.

Counting on His grace

More sickness.  More surgeries.  More hospital stays.  So begins 2012.

I have so many wonders, so many unanswered questions.  I place one foot in front of the other and take the next step.  I cannot see what is beyond this minute.  So I do what is necessary right now.

I read the Bible and hope for a “word” from the Lord.  I search my favorite Bible for those underlined or highlighted Scriptures that have helped sustain me before.

My eyes fall upon Psalm 46.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.  [You, O God, have been so before]  Therefore we will not fear [I confess that sometimes I am afraid of what is ahead] though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.  [It feels just like this]

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells.  God is within her, she will not fall [does that mean me, Father?]; God will help her at break of day . . . [Can I hold onto this promise?]

The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.”

And so I learn that trusting is all there is.  That it is an ongoing lesson.  Some days it is easy.  Some days it is not.

And I learn that giving thanks reminds me of God’s goodness when the clouds gather.

I count my blessings.  I look for the graces that fall all around me.

• A beautiful full moon early this morning
• Faithful little Buddy, our Maltese, who sticks by my wherever I go
• Prayers going up for us from family, friends, and even people I don’t know
• Offers to help and being able to call for it when I need it
• Praise music on the CD player that invites me to join in the song
• Health professionals who do their job diligently and with kindness
• Sweet William’s sweetness in spite of his pain
• The familiar things around me that bring comfort
• The little black Honda that gets me where I need to go
• The necklace I wear constantly that reads “by grace alone” and witnesses to eyes that see

I count graces because I must.   It is where I stand (Romans 5:2).

I count graces because it gives me strength (Hebrews 13:9).

I count graces because the Father has lavished it upon me (Ephesians 1:7).

Grace.  Amazing.  How sweet the sound.

Hello 2012

 It is the last day of the year, and I can’t say I’m sorry to see 2011 go. It has had its rough and rugged moments for sure.

For me, the week before New Year’s Day is usually spent in a flurry of activity. I immediately begin taking down and putting away all the Christmas decorations. Since we only had a tree this year, that didn’t take much time.

Almost as if an alarm goes off inside me, I want to clean out, de-clutter, organize, and put this house in order. I can’t explain it other than I was born this way.

So I begin to go through drawers and closets with a vengeance. I toss a lot of stuff wondering why in the world I’ve kept it so long. I rearrange the stuff I want to keep. Sometimes I have an epiphany as I find something I’ve wondered about for a year.

At year’s end I also evaluate the last twelve months to see what’s been accomplished. And I begin to think of the goals for the new year and how I want to spend the next 365 days.

But this New Year’s Eve, I don’t have the same urgency to make a list of things I want to get done in the house and the garden, the items I need to purchase, the exercise program I hope becomes a habit, the books I want to read, or the places I would love to go. Because of 2011, I’m not so sure about my goals for 2012.

There were so many things left undone this year because of unexpected events in Sweet William’s and my life. Things did not go as scheduled.

I’m sure at some point I will again make my lists. I am a list person. What can I say.

But as midnight of December 31, 2011 approaches, I want to be in a position of humility, on my knees with my face to the floor in total submission to the Sovereign God who controls my life and all that occurs in it.

I am not my own, after all. I was purchased at a very high and precious price.  God has the right to do whatever He pleases with me. Year 2012 will be guided by His hand, and His purpose will prevail.

I pray the prayer that never fails:  His will be done. I am simply the instrument in His hand to accomplish His goals.

Happy New Year, my friends.  Thanks for taking this 2011 journey with me.

Leave your comments.  They are always a joy to read.

Go tell it on the mountain . . . and everywhere

Flash mobs have become a twenty-first century phenomenon, people popping up in malls or on the streets, beginning with one and then becoming many doing something creative as a group.   I’ve watched a few videos myself and wondered at the thought and preparation it must take to pull off something like this.   And I am amazed at how the crowd stops what they are doing, busy as they are or rushing to complete their tasks, to stand and watch.

It makes me ponder how I am living out my Christ-likeness.   Am I wearing it, showing it, singing it, shouting it enough to a world so that it will stop to look and see?

I think of the shepherds who were shown a great light and proclamation from the heavenlies.  They stopped their watching of sheep and went to see, to gaze upon and wonder at this baby who was laid in a feeding trough.

Afterwards, the shepherds told it, this experience of being in the presence of the Christ.  How could they not?   How can I not tell it, after coming into the Holy of holies, after having the new birth ignite new life in me, after being covered in the costly and precious blood of my Savior?

Do I shine like the stars that reflect the glory of their Creator?  Do I bear the fragrance of Christ because I have touched Him and He has touched me?  Are my hands and feet an extension of the very person of Jesus?  Is His love so filling me so that my love reaches the hearts of those close by and far away?   Do my words and actions imitate the One who is continually molding and making me into something I could never be on my own?

If I burn with the blaze of God who is a consuming fire, people will stop and look.   Just like the flash mobs grab attention and hold people’s gaze long enough to hear the Good News, I truly want my daily activity and the words of my testimony to constrain people to pause and hear the hope that is in me.

Prepare your heart to be moved as you follow me to this amazing mob of believers who are willing to shout their holy message in unholy places so that the world can hear, “Jesus has come!”   Please stay to the end.   It is well worth it.

Christmas Flash Mop:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Vnt7euRF5Pg

If you watched to the end, tell me if you teared up, like I did.

The plan

I’ve been reading some of my old journals to remember other Christmases because I want to remember our celebrations.  This year is so different with son and family having a Tulsa Christmas.

As I read my Christmases past, it becomes apparent that they have not all been picture perfect.  Time tends to shadow the sadness that surfaced during our holidays, the separations we experienced, the sickness that kept loved ones away, the death that left a place at the table permanently empty, the problems that were only magnified during the stress of the season.

Looking at our last Christmas entries, I am glad God did not give me a glimpse of the coming year, of what lay ahead for us in 2011.  I think I may have gone back to bed, covered my head with the blanket wanting to stay until the year was over.

Perhaps your year has been something like that.

For certain 2011 did not go according to my plan.

My plan was to accomplish many things, to be successful in my undertakings, to finish projects, to excel and experience happiness in all my endeavors and relationships.  I had it all written down.

I didn’t have any room in my plans for operations, hospital stays, extensive care-giving, or learning how to live with our grandchildren so far away.

Reading the account of Jesus birth in the books of Matthew and Luke, I see something that resembles my own life.  The characters of this story had plans.  Mary and Joseph had plans for a marriage and a happy productive life.  Zachariah and Elizabeth had plans to live out their old age in quietness and service.

Mary and Joseph’s plans were disrupted by an unexpected miracle pregnancy, by the decree to go to Bethlehem and then the urgent warning to flee to Egypt.  I feel sure it was not the simple life in Nazareth they had envisioned.

Zachariah and Elizabeth were not expecting to be parents in their old age when strength and vigor were waning, when keeping up with a lively toddler would take more energy than they could muster on any given day.

Yet . . . it was God’s plan.

My morning Bible reading recently took me to Micah chapter 4.  Verse 12 was the one that caught my attention:

“But they know not the thoughts of the Lord, neither do they understand His plan . . . “

Ain’t it the truth?

I know the verses that say our ways are not God’s ways, that His thoughts are far above our thoughts.  It’s just that I want to make sense of what happens to me and to the people I love.  I want to understand the “why” of it.  If I did, maybe I could accept it more easily.

But alas, that is not the case in almost all of my unexpected interruptions whether it is a minor irritation or an extremely painful life change.

I am required to trust when it is dark and I cannot see the way ahead, when taking the next step is scary and I don’t know how to do it.

“Who among you fears the Lord, listening to the voice of His Servant?

Who among you walks in darkness, and has no light?

Let him trust in the name of Yahweh; let him lean on his God.”  Isiah 50:10

Even in my confusion, I find there is always an answer in the Word.  It may not explain all the details, the whys and wherefores I want to know.  But it does tell me what to do until the day when all things will be made clear.

Until then, there are some things I need to learn:

To trust

To wait with expectant hope

To learn contententment whether I have plenty or not

To give thanks in all my circumstances

Tall orders for this sojourner.  I am willing to walk in the dark as long as I don’t walk alone, as long as my God goes with me, goes before me and prepares the way.

It’s okay that I don’t have all the answers.  I know the One who does.

If you have had an “Unplanned Year” like me, leave a comment.  Let’s learn to trust Him together.