Some days I feel like the world is full of possibilities. Like I could go anywhere, do anything and all would be well. There is a whole lot of optimist in me. I like to see the best in situations. In people.
I had a friend a few days ago say that she always thinks of me smiling. She has a hard time picturing me otherwise. I had another friend text me out of concern when she saw a profile pic I had put up on my Facebook page that looked less than smiley. I asked her if I should change it and she said resoundingly, ‘Yes!’ So I did. I have an image to perpetuate after all. I even use smiley emoticons all the time. :)
I would say the smiley persona is genuine most of the time. But I have pessimist days too, when I keep running into resistance at every turn. I’m afraid to say there’s just enough pessimist in me to keep me frozen. Frozen in fear that what I want to believe about the world isn’t really true. The older I get, the more my inner conversation shifts to the idea that the world might not, in fact, be as full of possibilities for me as it once was. And that makes me less than smiley.
“This is God's Word on the subject: ‘As soon as Babylon's seventy years are up and not a day before, I'll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.’” -Jer. 29-10-11 (MSG)
God is speaking here through a letter from Jeremiah, the prophet, to some elders exiled from Jerusalem in Babylon. I find it somewhat comforting that He is giving hope while also addressing their impatience. This is comforting because God has to deal with my impatience all the time. Like most of us, I want what I want now. Funny how I can be frozen and impatient at the same time. Like I don’t realize I have to do something to get somewhere? Duh.
Nevertheless I’m happy that there are plans in place - God’s plans even - to give me the future I hope for. Maybe not the specific future I dream about when I’m bold enough to do so, but a future designed for me by the Maker of the universe with my good in mind. And I’m sure that’s lots better.
That makes me smile.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Thank you, Lynn Anderson
I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine,
There's gotta be a little rain sometimes.
When you take, you gotta give, so live and let live,
Or let go.
I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden.
-from “(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden”*
I sang a lot as a kid. I know that’s hard to believe. I sang when I played in the backyard, sang when I rode my bike, sang to irritate my sister. Well, one of the songs I remember singing way back when was “(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden” by Lynn Anderson.
I had no idea what it was about. I just knew I’d heard it on the radio and I liked it. Fact is, the song was a huge hit. It had a feel-good defiance and an easy lilt that took the post-Vietnam radio waves by storm. It preached looking life in the face and smiling real big, regardless of what it offered in return. Its (ahem) rosiness made us all feel a little better as the war wound down. The song was also willing to dismiss those who couldn’t let bygones be bygones.
What is your rose garden?
Is it kids who never misbehave, get impeccable grades and do everything you tell them to the moment you tell them to? That sounds pretty good to me. Is it a spouse or a significant other that expresses his/her love for you every time you need to be reminded, even if it’s several times a day, in that special way that makes your heart all ooey-gooey every time? That sounds nice too. Maybe your rose garden involves winning the lottery, looking like a movie star, having a dream home in the country, being a pop idol or taking over the world. All, except maybe that last one, are understandable and okay.
But sadly for some, their rose garden is a society where everybody looks like them, sounds like them, thinks like them and acts like them. And tragically, some of these people will go to unthinkable lengths to have their rose garden. Burning a cross in someone’s lawn. Spray-painting hate language on someone’s home. Setting fire to a church. Tying someone to a split rail fence and beating them to death.
Today, we recognize that bullying is an ever-present problem in America. Lately our attention has been directed to a spate of teen suicides that were the apparent result of bullying. Celebrities and public figures have been offering words of encouragement and hope to those who live with bullying while others have publicly supported the positions of the bullies. I have never experienced the kind of bullying that would make me want to end my life. I also don’t videotape someone’s private moments and broadcast them on the internet for my entertainment. This is more than just letting bygones be bygones.
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
-Jesus speaking in John 16:33
My rose garden probably doesn’t look just like yours. We all love who we love, think how we think, feel how we feel. We also all have the same freedom to approach God with our brokenness, whether we are the bully or the bullied. There is hope for a world full of people with differences. As this important dialogue continues around water coolers and dinner tables, I hope we’ll remember that God’s grace reaches farther than any of us really understands.
And I hope I’ll always consider the troubling ramifications of a world that only looks like me.
*Words & music by Joe South/Sony ATV Music Publishing.
I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine,
There's gotta be a little rain sometimes.
When you take, you gotta give, so live and let live,
Or let go.
I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden.
-from “(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden”*
I sang a lot as a kid. I know that’s hard to believe. I sang when I played in the backyard, sang when I rode my bike, sang to irritate my sister. Well, one of the songs I remember singing way back when was “(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden” by Lynn Anderson.
I had no idea what it was about. I just knew I’d heard it on the radio and I liked it. Fact is, the song was a huge hit. It had a feel-good defiance and an easy lilt that took the post-Vietnam radio waves by storm. It preached looking life in the face and smiling real big, regardless of what it offered in return. Its (ahem) rosiness made us all feel a little better as the war wound down. The song was also willing to dismiss those who couldn’t let bygones be bygones.
What is your rose garden?
Is it kids who never misbehave, get impeccable grades and do everything you tell them to the moment you tell them to? That sounds pretty good to me. Is it a spouse or a significant other that expresses his/her love for you every time you need to be reminded, even if it’s several times a day, in that special way that makes your heart all ooey-gooey every time? That sounds nice too. Maybe your rose garden involves winning the lottery, looking like a movie star, having a dream home in the country, being a pop idol or taking over the world. All, except maybe that last one, are understandable and okay.
But sadly for some, their rose garden is a society where everybody looks like them, sounds like them, thinks like them and acts like them. And tragically, some of these people will go to unthinkable lengths to have their rose garden. Burning a cross in someone’s lawn. Spray-painting hate language on someone’s home. Setting fire to a church. Tying someone to a split rail fence and beating them to death.
Today, we recognize that bullying is an ever-present problem in America. Lately our attention has been directed to a spate of teen suicides that were the apparent result of bullying. Celebrities and public figures have been offering words of encouragement and hope to those who live with bullying while others have publicly supported the positions of the bullies. I have never experienced the kind of bullying that would make me want to end my life. I also don’t videotape someone’s private moments and broadcast them on the internet for my entertainment. This is more than just letting bygones be bygones.
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
-Jesus speaking in John 16:33
My rose garden probably doesn’t look just like yours. We all love who we love, think how we think, feel how we feel. We also all have the same freedom to approach God with our brokenness, whether we are the bully or the bullied. There is hope for a world full of people with differences. As this important dialogue continues around water coolers and dinner tables, I hope we’ll remember that God’s grace reaches farther than any of us really understands.
And I hope I’ll always consider the troubling ramifications of a world that only looks like me.
*Words & music by Joe South/Sony ATV Music Publishing.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Patience on steroids
I know patience is a virtue. I’m trying to develop an attitude that is patient, that is satisfied to work for and wait for the good stuff in life. Like paying off my debts, booking lots of concerts, saving up to buy a train pass to backpack through Europe, and on and on. I admit I’m not very patient with myself or with God sometimes.
I know the Bible talks a lot about patience. The King James version also mentions longsuffering, which I like to think of as patience on steroids (see Col. 10-12 or Eph. 4:1-3). I believe longsuffering must be what you earn after fighting something for so long you don’t know what it’s like not to fight anymore. Like years of illness or grief or war. There are not enough bad drivers or annoying cafe patrons in my world to earn me longsuffering.
My great-grandmother, however, did have a longsuffering heart. Her husband, my Papa Fields, was an alcoholic and sixteen years her senior. Mama Fields ran their roadside grocery and did the lion’s share of the child rearing. There were five kids she raised to adulthood, including my grandmother. Then midway through my Mama Fields’ life, as her children were having children of their own, a sixth child, my great-aunt Sharon, was born. She suffered from severe Down’s syndrome and required constant care, which my great-grandmother provided graciously.
Sharon always had a sweet, impish spirit. She loved to laugh with us great-grandkids while sitting in the floor, folding and refolding laundry. She would sit and swing real big on a porch swing while listening to rock n’ roll and rhythm and blues from a radio she held to her ear. She loved music as much as anyone I’ve ever known. She knew that ‘Soul Train’ came on every Saturday night at 10 and she was always inches from the TV when it did. For nearly twenty years after my great-grandfather passed away, and until the day she died, Mama Fields cared for Sharon without complaining. She’d tell you that Sharon was a gift from God, a constant, loving companion.
“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us...” -Romans 5:3-5.
I think longsuffering must be like a superpower. If I ever earn longsuffering, I think I’ll wear an L on my chest. But then again, if I endure the trials, gain the character and still have a song in my heart, as my Mama Fields did, I probably won’t care about the cape and the tights.
I know the Bible talks a lot about patience. The King James version also mentions longsuffering, which I like to think of as patience on steroids (see Col. 10-12 or Eph. 4:1-3). I believe longsuffering must be what you earn after fighting something for so long you don’t know what it’s like not to fight anymore. Like years of illness or grief or war. There are not enough bad drivers or annoying cafe patrons in my world to earn me longsuffering.
My great-grandmother, however, did have a longsuffering heart. Her husband, my Papa Fields, was an alcoholic and sixteen years her senior. Mama Fields ran their roadside grocery and did the lion’s share of the child rearing. There were five kids she raised to adulthood, including my grandmother. Then midway through my Mama Fields’ life, as her children were having children of their own, a sixth child, my great-aunt Sharon, was born. She suffered from severe Down’s syndrome and required constant care, which my great-grandmother provided graciously.
Sharon always had a sweet, impish spirit. She loved to laugh with us great-grandkids while sitting in the floor, folding and refolding laundry. She would sit and swing real big on a porch swing while listening to rock n’ roll and rhythm and blues from a radio she held to her ear. She loved music as much as anyone I’ve ever known. She knew that ‘Soul Train’ came on every Saturday night at 10 and she was always inches from the TV when it did. For nearly twenty years after my great-grandfather passed away, and until the day she died, Mama Fields cared for Sharon without complaining. She’d tell you that Sharon was a gift from God, a constant, loving companion.
“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us...” -Romans 5:3-5.
I think longsuffering must be like a superpower. If I ever earn longsuffering, I think I’ll wear an L on my chest. But then again, if I endure the trials, gain the character and still have a song in my heart, as my Mama Fields did, I probably won’t care about the cape and the tights.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Boo!
Do you ever feel like you’re outgrowing your place in life and would like to move on, but you don’t go anywhere because of _____? You can keep the word you would use to finish that sentence to yourself. But you know what it is. I think for me, fear completes the thought. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of heartbreak. Just garden variety fear.
You know it’s October at Walmart because Halloween throws up all over everything. There are skeletons that sing ‘Monster Mash.’ There are candy bowls with hands that grab yours when you reach in for a treat. There’s a barrage of must-haves ranging from ridiculously gross (a giant rat) to the ridiculously stupid (a beer mug costume?). People around here decorate their front lawns with fake headstones, hands coming out of the ground, inflatable one-eyed goblins and other oddities that makes the homeowners association cringe. It’s a windfall for the movie studios who crank out mindless horror movies (whose trailers incidentally attack my television when my kids are watching...not cool). Halloween is big bucks.
But my question is how did a day that capitalizes on scaring us become so popular? Do you like being spooked? I definitely do not. But it isn’t just ghosts and demons and such that are capable of causing me to shake in my Adidases.
I run in fright from things that I pray for when they actually show up.
Like opportunities to grow in my career. I prayed for concerts and four fell in my lap. In October alone. I’ve been praying for a deeper faith, so of course, I’m faced with situations where I have the chance to exercise the faith I have. Financial hurdles, relationship challenges and personal growth opportunities. I guess the adage about being careful what you pray for applies.
So now I’m trying to gather my nerve, preparing to succeed at something I’ve dreamed of for a really long time. Why is that so scary? It’s what I prayed for after all. Can’t say for sure, but I’m gonna try conquering my hesitations one at a time until I’ve become the person I’ve prayed to become. Confident, self-aware and free of these nagging fears.
So if you’re like me, I’m challenging you to fight the urge to pull those covers over your head. Open the curtains and open your heart. Step around that thing that stands in your way and get on with it. Trust God, collect your courage and shed the fear.
And as for Halloween, the only thing that might get you is someone else’s bad taste.
You know it’s October at Walmart because Halloween throws up all over everything. There are skeletons that sing ‘Monster Mash.’ There are candy bowls with hands that grab yours when you reach in for a treat. There’s a barrage of must-haves ranging from ridiculously gross (a giant rat) to the ridiculously stupid (a beer mug costume?). People around here decorate their front lawns with fake headstones, hands coming out of the ground, inflatable one-eyed goblins and other oddities that makes the homeowners association cringe. It’s a windfall for the movie studios who crank out mindless horror movies (whose trailers incidentally attack my television when my kids are watching...not cool). Halloween is big bucks.
But my question is how did a day that capitalizes on scaring us become so popular? Do you like being spooked? I definitely do not. But it isn’t just ghosts and demons and such that are capable of causing me to shake in my Adidases.
I run in fright from things that I pray for when they actually show up.
Like opportunities to grow in my career. I prayed for concerts and four fell in my lap. In October alone. I’ve been praying for a deeper faith, so of course, I’m faced with situations where I have the chance to exercise the faith I have. Financial hurdles, relationship challenges and personal growth opportunities. I guess the adage about being careful what you pray for applies.
So now I’m trying to gather my nerve, preparing to succeed at something I’ve dreamed of for a really long time. Why is that so scary? It’s what I prayed for after all. Can’t say for sure, but I’m gonna try conquering my hesitations one at a time until I’ve become the person I’ve prayed to become. Confident, self-aware and free of these nagging fears.
So if you’re like me, I’m challenging you to fight the urge to pull those covers over your head. Open the curtains and open your heart. Step around that thing that stands in your way and get on with it. Trust God, collect your courage and shed the fear.
And as for Halloween, the only thing that might get you is someone else’s bad taste.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Guts
“Have the courage to live. Anyone can die.”
-Robert ‘Tree’ Cody, a Native American educator and musician.
I’ve lived a while. Long enough to really know some things.
I love to eat.
I feel stupid when I watch reality TV.
I’m happiest when I’m creating.
I care too much what people think of me.
There are other things I have a pretty good idea about.
I think politics is a game that costs us all money and halts progress.
I want to buy a house in the city someday.
Love is the answer.
There are still other things I don’t think I’ll ever figure out.
Why do we care who Britney Spears is dating or how she’s parenting her kids?
Pleated pants? Really?
In the words of Alanis Morrisette, “you live, you learn.” I don’t know how much wisdom she had when she sang that song, but the truth applies. I guess I still have some living to do if I’m ever to understand some of the things my life has to teach me. I realize the longer I live, the longer my list of mistakes, regrets and failures becomes. I don’t like that.
Adding to the win column takes guts, but I really want to. Therefore, I need to buck up.
I can do this by...
doing more, waiting less,
dreaming more, complaining less,
risking more, hoarding less,
loving more. fearing less.
I will die one day. And dying probably won’t take a lot of effort. Living, on the other hand, should be harder. A life well-lived is much harder and takes real courage. Alanis added, “I recommend biting off more that you can chew to anyone.”
I’m gonna say that’s good advice.
-Robert ‘Tree’ Cody, a Native American educator and musician.
I’ve lived a while. Long enough to really know some things.
I love to eat.
I feel stupid when I watch reality TV.
I’m happiest when I’m creating.
I care too much what people think of me.
There are other things I have a pretty good idea about.
I think politics is a game that costs us all money and halts progress.
I want to buy a house in the city someday.
Love is the answer.
There are still other things I don’t think I’ll ever figure out.
Why do we care who Britney Spears is dating or how she’s parenting her kids?
Pleated pants? Really?
In the words of Alanis Morrisette, “you live, you learn.” I don’t know how much wisdom she had when she sang that song, but the truth applies. I guess I still have some living to do if I’m ever to understand some of the things my life has to teach me. I realize the longer I live, the longer my list of mistakes, regrets and failures becomes. I don’t like that.
Adding to the win column takes guts, but I really want to. Therefore, I need to buck up.
I can do this by...
doing more, waiting less,
dreaming more, complaining less,
risking more, hoarding less,
loving more. fearing less.
I will die one day. And dying probably won’t take a lot of effort. Living, on the other hand, should be harder. A life well-lived is much harder and takes real courage. Alanis added, “I recommend biting off more that you can chew to anyone.”
I’m gonna say that’s good advice.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Ellington Parkway and other shortcuts
I’m an impatient driver. This isn’t really news to anyone who’s ridden with me before. I like to drive and I don’t mind other drivers. I just don’t like traffic. You know, drivers in packs.
Because of this, I am armed with a backstreet knowledge of Nashville. (Not the kind that could get me arrested, mind you. I just know my way around.) One such shortcut is Ellington Parkway, which I take when driving from Music Row to Madison. It slices right up through East Nashville and eludes the congestion of the other two major routes north. It has helped me get to my Tuesday staff meeting at the church under the wire more than a few times with my car and my sanity intact. I like Ellington Parkway.
I work in a cafe where I make lattes and sandwiches for attorneys, bankers, accountants and other suit-wearing folk. I experience heavy sighing, foot tapping, watch checking, weight shifting, even line jumping practically every day. This isn’t elementary school lunch line behavior, friends. This is the impatience of well-paid, highly educated people who have somewhere else they have to be or want to be. Right now. They stress me out.
I realize I often act like I’m in a hurry myself, even when I’m not. Instead of a sunset, I see an orange and blue blur in my rear view mirror. Instead of having a conversation with a friend, I send a text message. Instead of reading a great book, I wait for the movie. I drive fast out of habit and wring as much out of a day as I can.
But the truth is...
I wanna take the long way.
Take my own sweet time.
Take a deep breath.
I think God tries to impress me with things sometimes, but I’m too busy dashing hither and yon to notice. My frantic pace costs me. And I’m disappointed that it’s come to this. God probably is too. I need to write more, read more, listen more, play more, rest more. Be more.
So I’m taking time to sit outside in the beauty of a late August afternoon to breathe, pray, think and write this blog.
Whew.
So asking as one chronic speed demon to another, can you tell me...
What’s your hurry?
Because of this, I am armed with a backstreet knowledge of Nashville. (Not the kind that could get me arrested, mind you. I just know my way around.) One such shortcut is Ellington Parkway, which I take when driving from Music Row to Madison. It slices right up through East Nashville and eludes the congestion of the other two major routes north. It has helped me get to my Tuesday staff meeting at the church under the wire more than a few times with my car and my sanity intact. I like Ellington Parkway.
I work in a cafe where I make lattes and sandwiches for attorneys, bankers, accountants and other suit-wearing folk. I experience heavy sighing, foot tapping, watch checking, weight shifting, even line jumping practically every day. This isn’t elementary school lunch line behavior, friends. This is the impatience of well-paid, highly educated people who have somewhere else they have to be or want to be. Right now. They stress me out.
I realize I often act like I’m in a hurry myself, even when I’m not. Instead of a sunset, I see an orange and blue blur in my rear view mirror. Instead of having a conversation with a friend, I send a text message. Instead of reading a great book, I wait for the movie. I drive fast out of habit and wring as much out of a day as I can.
But the truth is...
I wanna take the long way.
Take my own sweet time.
Take a deep breath.
I think God tries to impress me with things sometimes, but I’m too busy dashing hither and yon to notice. My frantic pace costs me. And I’m disappointed that it’s come to this. God probably is too. I need to write more, read more, listen more, play more, rest more. Be more.
So I’m taking time to sit outside in the beauty of a late August afternoon to breathe, pray, think and write this blog.
Whew.
So asking as one chronic speed demon to another, can you tell me...
What’s your hurry?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Counting things
Lately I find myself counting a lot.
I'm counting calories. You see, I'd like to lose about 15 pounds before most of you see me again. Bum knees have kept me less active than I'd like to be this summer and my waistline is paying for that. Knees'll be fixed soon, but I'm watching my diet for now. And not just watching it disappear from my plate and end up as a spare tire.
I'm counting pennies. Of course, you probably are too. Because of the aforementioned knees and the getting them fixed, I'll be missing some work next month. But even if I weren't trying to save up for those recovery days coming up, I'd need to be cutting back. The list of things to save for is long. And expensive.
The thing is, while I was watch my waistline grow and my bank account shrink, I sometimes forget that I count. You know, not just as a number or a name on a list someplace. But as a bona fide, honest-to-goodness heart and soul. A viable contributor to my planet, my city, my friends and my family.
And you do too.
So next time you feel like counting...
the things you do for other people that go
underappreciated or unnoticed
the things about your life or yourself you wish were
different
the times you've been disappointed, disillusioned or
dismissed
try counting...
the things you do and give to make things better for
someone else
the things about your life and yourself that are pretty
darn cool
the reasons you belong here with the rest of us, making
a difference in the world right where you are.
Go ahead.
Count.
I'm counting calories. You see, I'd like to lose about 15 pounds before most of you see me again. Bum knees have kept me less active than I'd like to be this summer and my waistline is paying for that. Knees'll be fixed soon, but I'm watching my diet for now. And not just watching it disappear from my plate and end up as a spare tire.
I'm counting pennies. Of course, you probably are too. Because of the aforementioned knees and the getting them fixed, I'll be missing some work next month. But even if I weren't trying to save up for those recovery days coming up, I'd need to be cutting back. The list of things to save for is long. And expensive.
The thing is, while I was watch my waistline grow and my bank account shrink, I sometimes forget that I count. You know, not just as a number or a name on a list someplace. But as a bona fide, honest-to-goodness heart and soul. A viable contributor to my planet, my city, my friends and my family.
And you do too.
So next time you feel like counting...
the things you do for other people that go
underappreciated or unnoticed
the things about your life or yourself you wish were
different
the times you've been disappointed, disillusioned or
dismissed
try counting...
the things you do and give to make things better for
someone else
the things about your life and yourself that are pretty
darn cool
the reasons you belong here with the rest of us, making
a difference in the world right where you are.
Go ahead.
Count.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Me and my elephant
I have a terrible sense of balance. I sometimes feel lopsided, clumsy and awkward. Like gravity plays tricks on me. It's nothing serious. I just stay away from funhouses and avoid walking on high wires.
I have trouble with balancing other things too. Not just my head on my shoulders.
I remember when I was in second grade, my teacher, Miss Pistole, who was quite old and not very nice, would check "needs to spend time more wisely" on my report card every six weeks. Truth is, I would finish her boring assignments before the rest of the class and I had nothing left to do but irritate Patricia Grissom, who sat at the desk next to me. She was so easy to irritate. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Practice spelling words that end with a silent "e?'
Lame.
But the point of this is that I realize time is one of those things I don't balance well. Priorities is another. All the important/urgent/dire things stack on top of each other and it's hard to know how to allocate time and attention to each. It's like when you say, "If only I had a day to catch up!" Then when you get one, the sticky notes on your refrigerator, your desk, the dashboard of your car and your bathroom mirror, not to mention the unanswered emails and unreturned voice mails get ignored because the prospect of facing all that stuff down is more than you can bear to think about. Makes my already unbalanced head spin.
Ecclesiastes has that verse that says "everything is meaningless" and another that says "all things are wearisome." They make me laugh a little because I know I've said those things. Been tempted to write them into a song or two as well. But then I come to my senses and remember that some things are worth giving time and energy to. Now where to steal those minutes from....?
There's that gross saying, "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." I don't wanna eat an elephant, but I do wanna handle the stuff of my life better. And I suppose the best way is to take things a bite at a time.
So that they never become an elephant.
I have trouble with balancing other things too. Not just my head on my shoulders.
I remember when I was in second grade, my teacher, Miss Pistole, who was quite old and not very nice, would check "needs to spend time more wisely" on my report card every six weeks. Truth is, I would finish her boring assignments before the rest of the class and I had nothing left to do but irritate Patricia Grissom, who sat at the desk next to me. She was so easy to irritate. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Practice spelling words that end with a silent "e?'
Lame.
But the point of this is that I realize time is one of those things I don't balance well. Priorities is another. All the important/urgent/dire things stack on top of each other and it's hard to know how to allocate time and attention to each. It's like when you say, "If only I had a day to catch up!" Then when you get one, the sticky notes on your refrigerator, your desk, the dashboard of your car and your bathroom mirror, not to mention the unanswered emails and unreturned voice mails get ignored because the prospect of facing all that stuff down is more than you can bear to think about. Makes my already unbalanced head spin.
Ecclesiastes has that verse that says "everything is meaningless" and another that says "all things are wearisome." They make me laugh a little because I know I've said those things. Been tempted to write them into a song or two as well. But then I come to my senses and remember that some things are worth giving time and energy to. Now where to steal those minutes from....?
There's that gross saying, "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." I don't wanna eat an elephant, but I do wanna handle the stuff of my life better. And I suppose the best way is to take things a bite at a time.
So that they never become an elephant.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Love is patient.
I'm giving up coffee for Lent. To understand the gravity of this decision, I need to explain that I work at a coffee shop/lunch spot where the stuff is free and readily available to me. I also worked for Starbucks for years where I developed an addiction to double tall, no whip white chocolate mochas that continues to this day. I love coffee culture and enjoy nothing more than a cup in a coffeehouse with a friend with cool music and milk steaming in the background. My friends are pretty sure it's gonna turn me into a scowling, caffeine-starved beast. But I've decided. And it feels like a sacrifice.
In preparation for my java fast, I decided to try giving up coffee yesterday. Instead of my usual, I had earl grey tea, which is lovely, especially in a latte with steamed soy and vanilla. I thought I had conquered the impulse, found a suitable substitute for my vice. But today, I woke with achy shoulders, shaky legs and a wicked headache. So now I sit, half-defeated at Starbucks, sipping on my white mocha, asking myself how I'm gonna do this. I have six more days to be patient with myself before I leap headlong into faith and obedience. And maybe nausea.
I think sometimes love is like that. Stubbornly pushing through unmet hopes, unsettling conversations and determined resolve to see what's on the other side. Making sacrifices for the good of what could be. But also understanding that there are mornings I'm gonna wake up with the ache that comes from feeling like I've been hit by a truck with "resistance" spelled across the grill.
I've always thought of patience as one of those passive virtues, like a grandmother praying for her family while she knits. Quietly strong and persistent. But I'm realizing that patience is sometimes a frontline assault. It's a decision to stay with something or someone even when you aren't getting what you want. It's believing in hanging on, even when your rope is a tenuous thread, because the outcome, when it happens, will be oh so worth it.
"Love is never tired of waiting. Love is kind. Love has no envy. Love has no high opinion of itself. Love has no pride. Love's ways are ever fair. It takes no thought for itself. It is not quickly made angry. It takes no account of evil. It takes no pleasure in wrongdoing, but has joy in what is true. Love has the power of undergoing all things, having faith in all things, hoping all things."
I may not always be patient with myself or those closest to me, but I want a love that is.
In preparation for my java fast, I decided to try giving up coffee yesterday. Instead of my usual, I had earl grey tea, which is lovely, especially in a latte with steamed soy and vanilla. I thought I had conquered the impulse, found a suitable substitute for my vice. But today, I woke with achy shoulders, shaky legs and a wicked headache. So now I sit, half-defeated at Starbucks, sipping on my white mocha, asking myself how I'm gonna do this. I have six more days to be patient with myself before I leap headlong into faith and obedience. And maybe nausea.
I think sometimes love is like that. Stubbornly pushing through unmet hopes, unsettling conversations and determined resolve to see what's on the other side. Making sacrifices for the good of what could be. But also understanding that there are mornings I'm gonna wake up with the ache that comes from feeling like I've been hit by a truck with "resistance" spelled across the grill.
I've always thought of patience as one of those passive virtues, like a grandmother praying for her family while she knits. Quietly strong and persistent. But I'm realizing that patience is sometimes a frontline assault. It's a decision to stay with something or someone even when you aren't getting what you want. It's believing in hanging on, even when your rope is a tenuous thread, because the outcome, when it happens, will be oh so worth it.
"Love is never tired of waiting. Love is kind. Love has no envy. Love has no high opinion of itself. Love has no pride. Love's ways are ever fair. It takes no thought for itself. It is not quickly made angry. It takes no account of evil. It takes no pleasure in wrongdoing, but has joy in what is true. Love has the power of undergoing all things, having faith in all things, hoping all things."
I may not always be patient with myself or those closest to me, but I want a love that is.
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