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.

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.

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.