Christmas Recap - Top 10 Style

Hopefully, I'll return to "real" writing, rather than list writing, in the coming week. Until then, here's a quick recap of my time at home.

10. Viewing the lights around town, multiple times. I'm pretty sure that we are one of the only families who tried to visit every home or business that won an award for their lighting display.
9. Going to both the 4:30 and the 7:00 Christmas Eve services. It was the best of both worlds because we got to see all the families with young children at the 4:30 and then got to participate in the candlelight service at the 7:00 and hear "O Holy Night" sung by one of our favorite singers.
8. Laughing and more laughing - it's one of the many things we do so well together.
7. Catching up with old friends of all ages. I didn't get to see everyone I'd hoped to see, but I got to visit with many friends whom I see only once a year.
6. Trying new restaurants and revisiting lots of our old favorites, as well as eating homecooked meals.
5. Having my sister as my personal shopper; she's got an eye for fun stuff that I would never even think to pick up and put together.
4. Having my mom off the whole time we were home.
3. Getting to secretly pick up the tab at Sunday lunch for a couple who has blessed our family over the years.
2. Learning that I cannot outgive my mom and sister. They are incredible gift-givers.
1. Spending 9 days with my mom and sister. God gave us safe travel, good health, and lots of fun time together, which was a wonderful Christmas gift.

Christmas Traditions (finale) - Christmas Eve Candlelight Service

My traditions would not be complete without the Christmas Eve candlelight service. The service at our church is filled with all my favorite Christmas hymns and Scriptures on the birth of the Christ child, and it ends with the darkening of the church to allow us to sing "Silent Night" by candlelight.

As we gather together as a community of faith with lifelong friends to celebrate the real Reason for this season without all the commercialism, it's like a little glimpse of Heaven. We bring nothing but ourselves, and yet, we receive so much.

May your Christmas be filled with joy, with love, and most of all, with Him.

Christmas Traditions 10 - The Stockings

Some traditions stick because they are so easy. And this is one such example.

Every Christmas, we "open" our stockings first. After my sister and I make our way through the ornaments and other little (or sometimes not so little) gifts in the body of the stocking, we always check the toe of the stocking for an orange and an apple. I think "Santa" has only forgotten them one year, though many years we have reached in to find that they were ice-cold, having just been removed from the refrigerator.

I've never even asked if there's a story behind how Mom started this. I've just always known they'd be there. And there's just something sweet about that.

What stocking stuffer traditions do you have?

Christmas Traditions 9 - The Gifts

"It's better to give than to receive." That old saying is sometimes hard to grasp as a child, but I've found it to be absolutely true the older I've gotten. Nothing makes me smile more than to find a fun, surprising gift for a friend or family member. But sometimes, it's not about driving all over to find the right gift. And that should be great news with only 10 days left until Christmas.

For instance, our church is participating in the Advent Alternative. In lieu of buying a regular gift, you can go online and honor someone by giving a donation in their behalf to a worthy cause like Heifer International, H.O.P.E. Farm, World Vision, or others. Or if you just love to shop, one of the gift alternatives I have used in the past is to honor a friend or family member by adopting an angel from one of the Angel Trees around town.

I've also been a big fan of making gifts. From baked goodies to preparing jars of Christmas scent to making personalized notecards, I've run the gammit. I've also enjoyed serving my friends by putting lights on their trees or helping them get their shopping done. I don't think you can go wrong when you bless someone with the use of your time and talent. I know I've been blessed by some wonderful gifts that haven't come in a box, like my sister flying in to drive me home and friends coming over to replace outdoor lightbulbs (where ladders are involved) and put up my Christmas decorations.

Those are just a few of my attempts to think outside-the-box when it comes to gift giving. But I'd enjoy hearing what gift-giving ideas you have.

Christmas Traditions 8 - Tour of Lights

One of our family traditions that keeps moving up on our calendar because we can't seem to wait until Christmas Eve is our tour of the Christmas lights in various neighborhoods in my hometown. It's always a treat to see the winners of the local lighting contest and to see the creativity change from year to year.

But the one thing that can sometimes get lost on me is the symbolism of the lights. This season highlights Jesus coming to the world and being the Light of the world. That's something I hope to focus on more this year.

So do you participate in a tour of lights?

Christmas Traditions 7 - The Movies

Does Linus quoting Luke chapter 2 get you every year like it does me when A Charlie Brown Christmas comes on television? Or do you wait for the tongue-stuck-on-the-flagpole scene from A Christmas Story? Or maybe you prefer a more recent movie like Home Alone, The Santa Claus, or How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

It seems like the Christmas season, with family gathering and time off, provides the perfect opportunity to watch some old favorites or venture out to see a new movie at the theatre. Movie makers know that a good story will drive us to the theatre in droves. (Just look out how The Blind Side surged to #1 this past weekend after being in the theatre for several weeks.) But no matter how good their storyline is, there's a greater story that each of our hearts yearns to hear, and it's the one Linus recited.

So as you pull out the stack of movies this Christmas season, challenge yourself to set aside some time and re-read the story from Luke. You won't be disappointed.

Christmas Traditions 6 - The Photos

I can still remember waiting in line at the local Wal-Mart. It seemed like we spent half of each December there waiting in line with my mom and sister as we tried to get the annual Christmas photo taken. All the while Mom worried that our hair and our dresses wouldn't stay nice for very long amidst our attempts to entertain ourselves during the wait.

Now that we are spread out across this and other states, we don't "get" to take the annual Christmas photo in time to send out to friends and family. But we still try to get some photo ops in while we are home together.


But I have no desire to cover my refrigerator with pictures of myself. That's where all of you come in. It is so fun to receive Christmas photos from you. I keep them up year-round. So for those of you who spend half of your December waiting in line with your kiddos to have their picture taken, please know that the photo will find a coveted spot on my refrigerator for months to come!

Christmas Traditions 5 - Christmas Mail

The reason I rush to my mailbox every day during December is for the chance to find a Christmas letter or card (or maybe even several) in my mailbox. It's a time to find out what family and friends from near and far have been up to throughout the year. I learn about new babies, new jobs, and new addresses. I also learn about the losses and the let downs that friends and family have experienced. And I treasure every letter and card, keeping them in a box to reread throughout the year.

I started giving out Christmas cards when I was in junior high and continued that tradition for many years. But when I made the move to Cowtown in 2000, I decided that it was time to start writing my own Christmas letter instead of relying on my mom's letter to cover my news. This year will mark my tenth letter, assuming that I can get one done.

Writing a Christmas letter isn't easy, especially when it seems like it has been a pretty ordinary year. I've been tempted to send out a repeat of a previous year's letter, wondering if anyone would notice. I've also been tempted to just skip writing a letter. But because I hold receiving Christmas letters in such high esteem, I don't entertain that thought for very long.

Many of my friends have young children, and writing a Christmas letter isn't an option. I totally understand that and welcome pictures of their babies for my refrigerator. But for those who can find the time to write a letter, please know that I always appreciate receiving them and do not take the time that was spent on them for granted.

So what works best for you: the Christmas letter or the Christmas card?

Men of Faith

I've prayed for them all season. Not for wins, necessarily, but for safe travel, for protection from injuries, and for overall good health. So when I found out that UT would be playing in the Big 12 Championship in the new Dallas Cowboys Stadium in Arlington, I bought into the "for everything else there's MasterCard" campaign and got tickets near the 50-yard line. I couldn't not be there. I knew I had to see Colt McCoy and Jordan Shipley play live once before they graduate. And this was my best chance.

McCoy (#12) on the bench getting info

Shipley (#8) back to receive a punt

The game wasn't the runaway that I'd hope it would be. It was a struggle from the get-go. Colt was intercepted. Multiple times. He was sacked. Multiple times. And it looked grim. But there were other things going on right there on the field that the cameras often didn't catch or that weren't mentioned by those who were calling the game.

Take for instance that I saw Colt go over by himself, take a knee, and bow his head to pray before the second half started. The camera caught him doing a similar thing during the last seconds of the game, but an article said that he was "shielding his eyes" and failed to mention that he was praying. His lips were clearly moving. And out on the field, Jordan Shipley was quoting Jeremiah 17:7 (go to 42:10 in the video link) to Hunter Lawrence to encourage him before he made the game-winning 46-yard kick with 0:01 on the clock.

But it's not just Colt and Jordan. There was a news article earlier this week on center Chris Hall, who hopes to return to a college campus and lead students in the Word after pursuing a master's degree possibly in Israel. Sam Acho said in the postgame press conference that the team had put its trust in God and that he had no doubt that the field goal would go in. Sergio Kindle said he knew God had seen the time clock and that he hoped the officials would follow their morals and put the time back on the clock. It's been time, not prayer, that has been lacking for this UT football team.

Just a little over a year ago, the Longhorns endured their only loss of the season at the hands of the Texas Tech Red Raiders. With one second left to play, Tech's Crabtree scored, bringing the score to 39-33 and leaving the Longhorns with no time to come back. That second haunted the Longhorns.

But life often boils down to "seconds." For a lot of people, that can mean second thoughts on how life was lived. For others, it means second chances. The chance to redeem a loss and to change an outcome. For the positive. In that 0:01 of the game last night, that's exactly what occurred. No second thoughts. Just lots of prayers for a second chance. God didn't have to grant those prayers, but He did. And I can't think of another group of faithful men who are more deserving of a second chance.

Christmas Traditions 4 - The Sweets

I love how my mom's kitchen transforms into Candyland and Cookieville every year at Christmas. When we were growing up, my sister enjoyed helping with the baking, while I was more of the quality control tester and deliverer. We'd deliver the goodies--intricate tea breads and decorative containers filled with Spritz cookies, gingerbread cookies, English toffee, white chocolate covered pretzels, penuche nuts, and/or peanut brittle--to friends' houses just in time for Christmas Day gatherings.

I'm glad I grew up with that background because my workplace's gift policy prohibits the exchange of non-edible gifts. So over the years, I've made pretzel pops, Oreo truffles, thin-mint-like cookies, and Guenther House brownies. The most-requested are the pretzel pops, so that's what my co-workers received this year.

Personally, my mom's decorated gingerbread cookies are my favorite. I look forward to enjoying them when I go home for Christmas and to continuing the tradition of delivering more yummy sweets to friends and neighbors.

So what's your favorite holiday baked good? I'm always up for trying something new.

Christmas Traditions 3 - Programs & Parties

"Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" is the theme right now as Christmas parties have kicked off as of last night. As with every tradition, this is one of the areas that can easily become stressful, especially if the invitations and the programs are aplenty and the nights available are but few.

Growing up, our family's focus was on the programs and parties associated with church and school. But today, even with just those two categories, that might not limit the number of your potential "commitments."

For me, I know that I must get rest, that I can't have commitments every night of the week, and that I will have to say "no" to some good things. But in the end, by limiting the number of events I attend, I will be able to remember the individual events and the memories that were made instead of having only a blur of activity.

Christmas programs and parties will be in high gear for the next few weeks, so I hope that you will choose to attend those that will bless you and your family the most.

If you have a tip for keeping the craziness to a minimum, would you share it with me?

Birthday Blog Tour

"How can you creatively celebrate the birthday of someone whose love languages are gifts and words of encouragement?" This is the question I started pondering in late October, and immediately, the idea of a blog tour came to mind. I thought it would be fun to have several friends post something special on their blogs to celebrate this sweet Friend's birthday. And thankfully, I found volunteers who were willing to participate, despite how crazy-sounding my idea was. So without further ado, here's the first stop on the birthday blog tour celebrating my friend TJ's birthday, which is on December 3.

TJ,

Who agrees to give a ride to and stay overnight in a hotel with a gal she barely knows? That would be you back in September 2007. You graciously agreed to let me go with you to the North Texas Christian Writers' Conference, and I not only gained a writing mentor but also a friend. You gave me pointers before the conference (i.e., that I might want to take notecards to write thank-you notes to speakers while there and hand deliver them), guided me through the conference, and helped me process what I had learned as we made the trip back. When life resumed on the Monday after the conference, I realized how lucky I was to have had one-on-one time to pick your brain on writing, being a wife and mother, and doing daily life.

I came away amazed by how wonderfully you balance being a wife to Corbin and a mother to Branson, Hudson, Basden, and Esther. I love how you are intentional about taking time for you and Corbin to get away and how the two of you, as a couple, are intentional about making your kids feel special by spending time with them individually.

But most of all, these past two years as we've been in a writers' group together, I have been inspired by your obedience, both in using your writing talent and in raising your kids. I know that the urge to write must overwhelm you at times. But you have strived to make your family a priority and sought God's will on how and when you could utilize your writing talent without neglecting your family. Similarly, it has been a joy to watch as you have been open to God's leading on how best to educate your children. You have been willing to reevaluate each year and to try new alternatives when the status quo was no longer working as well as you wanted.

As I watch you live out your faith, your obedience to Christ blesses and encourages me. I am grateful God has given me the opportunity to be mentored and befriended by you, and I look forward to seeing what He does through you in the years to come.

Happy early birthday, Friend, and look for the Birthday Blog Tour to continue tomorrow on Nikki's blog!

TJ in pink at the 2008 North Texas Christian Writers' Conference

Christmas Traditions 2 - The Music

"It's not Christmas without The Carpenters," my sister recently proclaimed. And I agree wholeheartedly.

I can't think of a single Christmas when we failed to listen to Christmas albums by The Carpenters and Andy Williams, nor is Christmas complete with The Muppets' rendition of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," which includes Miss Piggy's variations on "five golden rings." Over the years, our collection of Christmas cassette tapes has been replaced with CDs of those timeless favorites, along with new favorite albums by Harry Connick Jr., Josh Groban, Stephen Curtis Chapman, Amy Grant, Michael Buble, Mannheim Steamroller, and many others.

Multiple verses of old hymns like "Joy to the World," "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," and "Silent Night" are etched in my memory due to years of participating in the annual Christmas pageant, and new variations on those familiar favorites are always fun to hear. But I also find that each Christmas season brings the opportunity to hear new songs, and I seem to find a new favorite each year.

For the past two years, I've written about my favorites here and here. This year is no different. Throughout my baking extravaganza with my mom on Saturday, I enjoyed listening to Christ Chapel Bible Church's Christmas CD called "The Baby King," and the song of that same name is my favorite of this season. [You can download it from iTunes if you don't live in this area.]

If you have a favorite Christmas song or CD, I'd love to hear your recommendations. After all, I have the whole month of December to fill with Christmas music!

Christmas Traditions 1 - The Advent Calendar

I've noticed a pattern: blogging comes easier if I have a theme. So over the course of the next few weeks, I plan to share some of my favorite Christmas traditions. Most of these activities and items are free or inexpensive and have been part of my life since my first Christmas. They aren't meant to be a checklist for you to add to your holidays, but maybe they will give you new ideas to try or inspire you to continue your own traditions.

For me, the Christmas season officially begins when I receive an Advent calendar from my mother. She fell in love with Advent calendars as a child and made a promise that her children would always have one. And she has stayed true to her word.

For those who are unfamiliar with Advent calendars, the calendars count down the coming of the Christ child and have hidden "doors" with numbers on them from 1 to 24. Each day during the month of December, one door is opened. What is behind each door varies based on the type of calendar; it could have a picture of a Christmas scene, a Bible verse, an ornament, or a piece of chocolate.

My Advent calendar for this year is a three-dimensional Nativity with the numbered doors hidden throughout the scene. I look forward to seeing what's behind the first door tomorrow, proving that Advent calendars have no age limits!

Celebrating Thanksgiving

I don't want to start the Christmas season before taking time to reflect on Thanksgiving 2009. Throughout this holiday, I have been thankful:

For the health of my family;

For friends who provided transportation to work, to the train station, and from the train station home;

For a friend who watched my dog while I was gone;

For a job that doesn't require me to work on holidays and provides the money to go home;

For getting to spend time with my mom and have a relaxed, simple celebration; and

For God from whom all these blessings flow.

Simplify Your Time

I'm continuing to slowly wade through my reading stack and finally made my way to a book I purchased a couple of years ago entitled Simplify Your Time by Marcia Ramsland. This lady speaks my love language: lists. And she possesses organizational skills that I had never even dreamed of.

The book is divided into thirty short chapters, allowing the reader to change one thing each day and hopefully end up more organized and efficient in a month's time. The book provides charts and over 100 time-saving tips to help the reader put into practice the suggestions in each chapter.

The focus of the book is not to run yourself ragged by filling your calendar but rather to make the best use of your time, including allowing for some downtime each day and incorporating things you wish you were doing into your weekly schedule. My favorite aspect of the book was the concept of the five-year calendar to plan goals for the four seasons over the next five years. As much of a planner as I am, I've never even considered doing this.

With the holidays quickly approaching, Ms. Ramsland has some great advice, "Being overwhelmed can be a positive opportunity to get down to the basics of what's really important and rebuild your life from there." (p.134) So if you want to get a jump-start on your time and improve your efficiency before the holidays hit, I highly recommend Simplify Your Time.

[Disclosure: I did not receive anything in exchange for reviewing or recommending this book.]

Disruptions

Over the weekend, a friend sent me a link to a blog about a family who adopted two children from Ethiopia in June. In two of her recent posts, here and here, the Mom writes about how her life has changed from being childless to mothering two little ones. Her "new normal" has come with lots of little interruptions in the form of "one-more-big cuddle hug." And she loves it.

I had just read those two posts yesterday and had them on my mind when my pastor made this statement in his sermon today: "Pursuing Christ disrupts our lives if we are doing it right." He then went on to talk about how we have to realize that the disruptions are worth it.

Disruptions occur in my life on a daily basis: a traffic light that is blinking red in all directions and delaying the flow of traffic to a phone call coming in during the middle of a project to a letter in the mail that requires me to take additional actions. I didn't wake up knowing that any of those things would intersect my day. Yet, I tend to greet each of those items differently depending on how they benefit me. It's as if there's an intuitive "weighing process" that occurs instantaneously that I'm not really conscious of. For instance, sometimes the traffic lights flashing red give me time to search through my purse and put on lipstick, but other times, they just make me late to work. The phone call, depending on who it is from and the time it arrives, also gets different responses. Same with the mail.

Yet, with any of the disruptions, I could choose to respond positively if I set out to do that. But it's as if I need to be more aware of the intuitive process.

That goes along with our pastor's challenge to think critically about why something is bad or good. In my examples above, that might mean looking deeper to see why some of those disruptions create a negative reaction. Is it because I didn't plan well and was going to be late anyway? Is it because I hold out my time as more important than others'? That's when it starts to not look so easy or so pretty.

But the real question is whether I will allow Christ to disrupt my life. Maybe the traffic light was a disruption for a purpose. Or maybe the phone call that I want to ignore is an opportunity to pray for someone. And I might miss it. Especially if I am in the mindset that MY time is king and no one will get a piece of it because it is already earmarked for MY purposes. Oh how I don't want that to be my mindset.

Lord, help me respond with an open heart when disruptions come my way. Help me to recognize that some disruptions have greater purposes than I will ever see or know and that Your disruptions are worthy of my time.

Customer Service, Where Art Thou?

The electric bill arrived in the mail with a note that said I needed to call for a meter reading schedule because they could no longer estimate my electricity usage. I postponed making the call as long as I could because I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I had no idea what I was in for.

Call #1 (after following the automated prompts and receiving a live person):
Me: Hi, I need a meter reading schedule.
Customer Service Rep: Huh? (said with a foreign accent)
Me: I need a meter reading schedule (said louder and with more enunciation).
CSR: Huh?
Me: A METER READING SCHEDULE.
CSR: (no audible response)
Me: (hanging up the phone)

Call #2 - 1 week later
Me: Hi, I need a meter reading schedule.
CSR: Ok. What your address?
Me: (giving address while pondering why that is not listed anywhere in my account)
CSR: So that's V-L-O?
Me: (wondering whether there is any street in the English language that begins with that combination of letters, but spelling my street name again)
CSR: Okay, so your address is . . . (transposing the numbers)
Me: (giving correct numbers again)
CSR: Okay. I mail you meter schedule for rest of year. Then you call back in January for another one.
Me: How about if you put a note in my account that says, "Customer requests that a 2010 meter reading schedule be mailed when it is ready."
CSR: Ohhh. You hold while I type that.

So when I found an envelope from the electric company in my mailbox the following Saturday, I thought I could check that task off my to-do list. Until I opened the envelope and found my payment history. For the last 3 years. Clearly, that sounds exactly like a "meter reading schedule."

Call #3 (becoming accustomed to calling electric company on my lunch hour)
Me: (interrupting recorded prompts) Supervisor!
Electric Co's robotic prompt: I understand tha tyou want to talk to a live person, but please answer some additional questions, so I can direct you to the right person.
Me: (playing along)
Live CSR: How can I help you?
Me: I need to speak to a supervisor.
CSR: I'm sorry, I can't do that until you give me some information.
[There is a 5-minute conversation during which I get pretty ugly because none of my reasons, including my I-have-a-problem-with-my-bill excuse, meet this gatekeeper's expectations. I don't recall the magic words that got me placed on hold for exactly 5 minutes before a manager picked up.]
Me: I have a simple problem that you can resolve.
Manager: Okay.
Me: I need a meter reading schedule, but my 2 previous phone calls have not resulted in that.
Manager: I see that we sent you one on Oct. 19.
Me: No, unfortunately, you sent me a payment history.
Manager: Oh.
Me: So if you'd put a meter reading schedule in the mail, I'd appreciate it.
Manager: Okay. I just need to place you on hold for 4-5 minutes.
Me: You have my request and you have my address, so please just put the schedule in the mail.
Manager: We understand that it is an inconvenience to place you on hold, but company policy says that we can't make any changes to your account without your being on the phone.
Me: But, I am on the phone with you right now, and you are in my account. What do you need from me after the hold time?
Manager: Nothing.

It wasn't pretty after that folks. I tried to explain how that was the definition of insanity; he played the "policy" card again and told me I wouldn't get a schedule if I hung up; and I hung up on principle. I felt like I'd logged my share of hold time.

To say that I was angry after I got off the phone with the electric company would be putting it mildly. I felt played. I have a simple request; I'm not even arguing over my bill (yet). But for whatever reason, I'm not being heard or understood.

I think that the frustration that surfaced as a result of those calls was really the culmination of feeling unheard in other areas of my life. Like feeling unheard by God. I know that's not true. But it feels that way sometimes. And in the midst of that, I can scream and pout and ignore Him, or I can continue to put my requests before Him and wait expectantly for an answer, knowing that He always hears and sometimes chooses to say "no" or "not now."

Just like the electric company with the meter reading schedule. Speaking of which, it looks like I'm due to put in another request. Wish me luck on that.

Stumbling Block Not Writer's Block

This is the post that's been rumbling around in my head and my heart for the past couple of weeks. It's the one that I wrote and then was tempted not to post. I kept trying to tell myself that it's not a big deal; it's not worth posting. But really, it is a big deal to me, whether I like it or not. So from that standpoint, I've persuaded myself to go ahead and post what I wrote during my birthday week.

----

I've been dreading this week for a while. For some reason, turning thirty-five has a powerful hold on me. But it's not the number. It's the number combined with life circumstances. And I wish there was some way to convey that without sounding like poor pitiful me because I know that I am very blessed. I put forth the following because to type anything less would be to dishonor the feelings in my heart and because I hope that this will provide insight on how not to respond to others in similar circumstances.

My birthday has come up in several conversations lately with people I don't really know, and the conversations generally went something like this:

Lady in passing: Did you say that your birthday is this week?

Me: Yes. It's the first one that I've actually dreaded.

Lady in passing: Really? Which one is it?

Me: 35.

Lady in passing: Oh, well I turned [insert age higher than 35] recently. Thirty-five is nothing.

Me: (Trying to smile outwardly and grimacing inwardly because Lady is married and has children. She has no idea what it is like to come home on her birthday to no one, except a Golden Retriever. Yet, there's no way to explain all that is going on in my heart in a passing conversation with someone I don't really know.)

It's not that I never thought I'd turn thirty-five; it's that I never dreamed I'd turn thirty-five and not have a husband and family to share that day with.

Two years ago, I told my friends that if I was still single at thirty-five, I was going to plan a big party for my thirty-fifth birthday because I wanted the benefit of having everyone together like when family and friends gather for a wedding and wedding reception. But in order to plan that big get-together, I had to commit to the fact that I would be single. And I just couldn't bring myself to admit that. Needless to say, the big party never occurred.

But my sweet friends--both married and single--helped me celebrate my birthday and got me through it. It's been their (your) encouragement that has carried me through some lonely nights. So thanks for understanding and for loving me well.

It Was Bound to Happen

One of my biggest fears played out today, the day before my big 3-5 birthday.

When I got ready to leave work, Elevator No. 6 showed up. Because that particular elevator trapped my friend Clarissa in it for 30 minutes on a Friday evening, I refuse to ride it at the end of the work day. So, I got in it, pressed the button that would send it to the bottom floor, and got out before it departed. I felt like all was well.

Until Elevator No. 4 showed up.

Elevator No. 4 creaks. Not just on rainy days or cold days. Every day. I have turned it in to the authorities no fewer than 7 times. All to no avail. Maintenance keeps making excuses for the noises Elevator No. 4 makes. I don't buy them. But I needed to be somewhere by 6, so I jumped in. All by myself.

Elevator No. 4 was cruising along just fine. I even thought, "Well that wasn't baaa . . . Whoa. Major stoppage. Loud crashing sound. Feels like it slammed into something. Yet, it says it is on the ground floor. The doors aren't opening. I must press the call button. Now it is going up a little bit. Now it is going down a little bit. Should I push another floor?" As the emergency call was going through and before I pressed any other floors, the doors opened.

It took 0.00003 seconds for me to leap from Elevator No. 4 and run to the maintenance office. I quickly recounted my story. When the head maintenance guy appeared and said, "You again? I just fixed the ceiling in your office."

Yep, that's me. The Troublemaker. The one who had a major plumbing leak in her office ceiling today. The one who got trapped in an elevator. All. By. Herself. But who lived to tell about it.

And has to face the big 3-5 tomorrow. I hope it's not as bad as today.

Shelter

I drive under this bridge at least once a day and sometimes twice. Throughout all the torrential rains we've had, I've noticed how it provides a bit of shelter. No matter how hard it is raining, the rain can't penetrate this bridge. So whenever I drive under the bridge, my car gets a little reprieve from the pounding rain.

The weather forecast predicts more storms tonight. But maybe thunderstorms don't get on your radar. Instead, maybe your storms look like a loved one battling an illness, a tough situation at work, kids bickering, or any number of other difficulties that come our way in life. And maybe you are nowhere close to a physical place of shelter from life's storms. Here's a reminder of the Shelter we can all seek, no matter where we are.

Psalm 91
Those who live in the shelter of the Most High
will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
This I declare about the Lord:
He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;
he is my God, and I trust him.
For he will rescue you from every trap
and protect you from deadly disease.
He will cover you with his feathers.
He will shelter you with his wings.
His faithful promises are your armor and protection.
Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night,
nor the arrow that flies in the day.
Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness,
nor the disaster that strikes at midday.
Though a thousand fall at your side,
though ten thousand are dying around you,
these evils will not touch you.
Just open your eyes,
and see how the wicked are punished.

If you make the Lord your refuge,
if you make the Most High your shelter,
no evil will conquer you;
no plague will come near your home.
For he will order his angels
to protect you wherever you go.
They will hold you up with their hands
so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.
You will trample upon lions and cobras;
you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet!

The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me.
I will protect those who trust in my name.
When they call on me, I will answer;
I will be with them in trouble.
I will rescue and honor them.
I will reward them with a long life
and give them my salvation.”

Sacrificial Acts of Love

Instead of the usual book review, I decided to participate in the writing assignment/challenge issued as part of the blog tour for Mary DeMuth's latest novel A Slow Burn, which is the second book of the Defiance, Texas trilogy. The book released this week and is available on amazon.com here. For a list of other participants in the blog tour, check out this link. I received my copy for free as part of the blog tour.

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In August 2003, after I had endured three months of excruciating pain, the surgeon agreed to remove my gall bladder. In his wisdom, he scheduled the surgery for August 8, exactly one week before I was slated to close on the purchase of my first house.

I wanted the surgery even more than I needed it, so postponing was not an option. Trying to reschedule a planned move and closing proved too costly. So knowing that I had to pull off all the details involved with those two big life events in the span of a week, I put out a cry for help. And my friends answered.

Tracey got up at o'dark-thirty, picked me up from my apartment that was nowhere near her house, and drove me to the hospital for my surgery.

Sallie allowed me to recuperate at her house so that I wouldn't have to climb the stairs to my third-floor apartment.

After I returned to my apartment, Melissa brought over all the cookware and ingredients to make me dinner and then engaged me in a game of Scrabble to keep my mind off the impending move.

Angela and Layne drove in from Denton and Frisco after a long day's work to pack my belongings.

And Rebecca, who had known me for only a few weeks, came and cleaned my apartment and then volunteered her son to help me move.

Together, my friends conquered my long list of needs. They gave up sleep, comfort, time, and money in order to love on me. And in my weakened state, I could not repay their acts of kindness; I could offer only a meager "thank you."

Six years have now passed since my surgery and move, but my friends' sacrificial acts of love remain fresh on my mind. They encourage me to think of ways in which I can show sacrificial love to others when they need it most.

With Excellence

When a church sets as one of its core values to honor God through the pursuit of excellence in all aspects of its ministry, watch for amazing things to happen. Like having 168 church members work for four months to produce and present a Broadway-caliber performance and to then give out tickets for free.




I witnessed this firsthand over the weekend as I sat in the audience for Christ Chapel Bible Church's presentation of The Music Man. The church exhibited excellence before the show even began by seating approximately 1,000 people in 12 minutes, giving out high-quality playbills, and luring in the audience with incredible sets to marvel over (i.e., a locomotive in center stage sprayed steam into the air every few minutes). And when the orchestra struck up the first few notes of "Seventy-Six Trombones," I knew we were in for a treat.

The cast's talent could easily have competed for parts in the Broadway version of this classic; the singing and dancing was flawless. The man who played Professor Harold Hill displayed more energy than Robert Preston did in the 1962 movie version of the musical. And at numerous times during the play, the stage was filled with fifty or sixty children and adults, and yet the dancing, singing, and choreography flowed seamlessly throughout.

The message of the musical is one of unconditional love, a love that we can all experience in Christ. Such love was demonstrated in Christ Chapel's production of the The Music Man as the cast and crew gave of their time and talents to thank God and to draw others to Him.

All too often, I seem to get in a hurry and offer God whatever I have left. Christ Chapel's production of the The Music Man served as a beautiful reminder to me to strive for excellence in all that I do because God deserves nothing less than my best.

Common Theme

Do you ever have those times when you start to hear the same verse or the same theme talked about over and over during a few days or even weeks? That happens to me often.

Most recently, I heard a speaker who wrote a book on the following verse from Joel, "I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten . . . ." (2:25) I can't say I've ever heard that verse discussed, and I don't recall ever reading or studying it on my own. And yet, within the span of a few days, I heard that verse several times from several different places and couldn't help but notice.

Maybe it's because I'm about to turn 35 and am finding that particular number is hard to say out loud. Maybe deep down I want to be restored to the days of college youth when my family was only 32 miles away and my friends were in the room next door, down the hall, or in an apartment just across the parking lot. Life sure seemed lighter back then.

But I don't want to take this important verse and bend it to fit my desires. Instead, I remain watchful, looking to see what God will restore possibly in or around me.

Back to Blogging

The past two weeks have flown by. Many blog-worthy events occurred; I just had no time to write about them. So here's the recap:

The day after Labor Day served as our "first day of school" at work - the day when things start afresh with a new fall schedule. My small group kicked off its fall study. And then I attended the sixth annual North Texas Christian Writers' Conference where I caught up with Ashley Boone, Britta Coleman, and Mary DeMuth and spent time hanging out with Andrea, Michelle, and Tina from my writers' group. (We missed having TJ and Renae and Sarah with us!)

The next day, I had the pleasure of hosting my mom and sister for a week. It has been several years since I've had both of them here for a visit at the same time. So, this was the first time I got to take them to my church.



They were gracious enough to come up and cheer me on while I had one of these and one of these. With a family history of colon cancer, events like these will be part of our lives for years to come. Thankfully, I've found a wonderful doctor and had an anaesthesiologist who got me to sleep this time, so I am grateful that I have no memory of this event unlike a previous time.

With that out of the way, we were free to eat and shop our way through the city. But most of all, it was just fun to be together, even if it rained every single day they were here. We understand each other's humor and seldom go an hour without laughing. It's absolutely delightful. And it was a rare treat to have a week like this together before the holidays.

This week, I hope to get into a fall rhythm and get back to blogging more regularly. Thanks for your patience over the past couple of weeks.

Happy Labor Day!

Not much laboring going on here.

Just sunbathing.

Laughing.

Birdwatching.

And preparing to head back to work tomorrow.

Rebuilding

Over the past couple of weeks, repairs topped my to-do list:

The car needed a new timing belt and water pump and some sort of right steering boot.
Two wooden fence posts had rotted and needed to be replaced.
Loose boards on the outside of the house needed to be tacked down.
The neighbor's trees, which stretched toward my roof and siding, required trimming.
Covers on recessed speakers wiggled their way out of the ceiling and hung down, begging to be reattached.

Everywhere I turned, something was in disrepair. Including my attitude.

Thankfully, throughout the summer, my church has been teaching on doubts and joy (Philippians). Both teaching series have been excellent. Here are just a few of my favorite quotes that I jotted down over the past few weeks:

"The Healer is more important than the healing." - Bruce Edstrom (counselor & guest speaker)

"God is not a supplement." - Mark Philpot (worship leader)

"Our questions come from a place desiring certainty, but God doesn't promise us certainty." - Dr. Ted Wueste (lead pastor)

"We change events in order to avoid changing ourselves." - Richard Rohr (Franciscan priest)

"It is grace that forms the void inside of us, and it is grace alone that can fill the void." - Simone Weil (philosopher)

"Forgiveness means that I continually am willing to forgive the other person for not being God, for not fulfilling all my needs." - Henri Nouwen (priest & author)

"Don't go out into life hungry expecting it to fill you up." - Dr. Ted Wueste

These quotes point me back to the Truth. The Tool that has the power to rebuild me from the inside in the midst of my other rebuilding projects. So hopefully my attitude will not be in disrepair for long, even when (not if) other things start to fall apart.

Perseverance

Last month, I started a new habit. One I absolutely despise but know that it is good for me. One that was born out of a desire to become stronger and maybe even healthier. Before you assume that I probably joined a gym or started running, you should know that I'm not the least bit athletic. I needed to start small. So I chose to start climbing the stairs every afternoon during my break.

The first day was by far the worst. By the fifth level (which equates with the 18th stack of stairs), I was pretty sure I was about to meet Jesus face to face. I wanted to bow out and take the elevator the rest of the way. But my climbing buddy forbade it. She urged me onward and upward.

The second day, I didn't have to stop. I didn't set any records, but I didn't mention the "elevator" word, which was a measure of success.

Then came the weekend, and no climbing. So Monday posed a new challenge of urging my muscles to remember that they had done this before and could do it again.

Each day since then, I've hoped it would get easier. So far, it hasn't. There's inevitably a place along the way when my leg muscles start to send the burning sensation to my brain, and my brain has to fire back that they can't stop until we've reached the top.

But the hope that one day it will get easier actually burns stronger than the burn in my muscles. It's what fuels me to climb the stairs each day, just to see if today's the day. Because I don't want to miss it.

Write Your Story

A friend once mentioned that the decline of literacy is showing up in, of all places, the jury box. The mark of a good lawyer used to be measured by the compelling story he/she could weave for the jurors. But now, this fast-paced culture has created jurors who crave bullet points because they are used to communicating in 140-character tweets and texts full of abbreviations. For lawyers facing complicated fact patterns, it would be no easy task to boil down the case to a tweet.

But I, for one, have resisted adopting this new mentality of communicating in miniature sound bytes. I still love reading the full story, not the abridged version.

Maybe that's what made Gilead by Marilynne Robinson such a pleasurable read. It was like sitting beside my grandfather and hearing various stories from his life; the stories that made him the man that he had become.

The premise is that an elderly pastor, who married late in life and has a seven-year-old son, decides to write his life's story for his son:

"For me writing has always felt like praying, even when I wasn't writing prayers, as I was often enough. You feel that you are with someone. I feel I am with you now, whatever that can mean, considering that you're only a little fellow now and when you're a man you might find these letters no interest. Or they might never reach you, for any of a number of reasons. Well, but how deeply I regret any sadness you have suffered and how grateful I am in anticipation of any good you have enjoyed. That is to say, I pray for you. And there's an intimacy in it. That's the truth." (p.19 - Gilead)

I fear that our stories, if not penned or typed out, will be lost if we, as a society, continue to text, tweet, and post status updates on Facebook that give only a momentary glimpse of a task instead of the lessons learned or the journey we've taken. Such momentary updates usually aren't tied together and often aren't capable of being read as a cohesive whole to find out who the person is, which is a loss.

I think that's why blogs have lingered and why memoirs are on the rise: deep down, we all want to leave a legacy. And though it takes time to write, the benefits are well worth it.

If I had not kept journals over the years, I might have forgotten some of the big and small moments in my life. If my ancestors had not penned letters during the Civil War, I would not have the insight that I have into their personal relationships.

There's so much that can be learned from the past, but it has to be captured first. So if you haven't been writing, start now. If you have been writing, keep it up.

Redeemed by Rain

This is my lawn in early July after my lazy watering.

This is my lawn now after some good rains.

Enough said.

A Lesson on the Train - Unlearning Fear

"Come with me to the next car on the train," motioned the father to his son.

As the son looked through the glass door, watching as the car up ahead bounced and swayed and failed to make a straight path, he shook his head, "No way!"

"I'd really like you to come with me."

"But why?"

"Because it will be fun."

"No, Dad. Please don't make me."

"Well, you can stay here. But I'm going to the next car."

The son watched as his father slipped through the door. Seconds later, the son stood up and followed his father.

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I've sat in that seat where the son sat.

During our family's first trip on Amtrak, I felt paralyzed when I saw what it would take to cross from one car of the train to another. It was an obstacle course, requiring passengers to open one door, walk across a constantly shifting platform, open a second door, and step into the next car.

The failure to conquer that fear could have resulted in hunger because the dining car was separate from the sleeper car. My mom and my sister kept showing me that the path could be navigated, and eventually I managed to conquer my fear. Since that trip, I have fearlessly passed through many train cars.

Mark Batterson writes in his book In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day,

What's interesting is that psychiatrists posit that we're born with only two innate fears: the fear of falling and the fear of loud noises.

That means that every other fear is learned. And more importantly, that means that every other fear can be unlearned.

. . . .

One of my sacred duties as a parent is to help my children unlearn their fears.

. . . .

Think of your fears as mental lions. If we don't learn to chase those fears, they can keep us at bay for the rest of our lives. So, like a good parent, our Heavenly Father helps us unlearn the fears that would cause us to pass up so much fulfillment and fruitfulness--because He loves us and wants the best for us. (pp. 47-48)

The father on the commuter train last week knew this and wanted to help his son. My mother also knew this and wanted to help me. Both gave options and led by example. Just like Jesus.

So consider what fears you have that need to be unlearned and aske whether you are willing to follow your Heavenly Father, even when the path doesn't line up or looks scary. And consider what fears you can help others unlearn so that they won't have to pass up fulfillment and fruitfulness.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name (and Story)

I grew up in a town with anywhere from 6,524 to 7,202 people in it, depending on which census numbers you look at. The best thing was that everyone knew everyone. The worst thing was that everyone knew everyone. And between the town grapevine and the scanners, of the radio frequency variety not the copier variety, everyone heard everyone else's business. But I didn't mind; I enjoyed hearing people's stories.

After I graduated from college and officially moved away from my small hometown to a larger city, I thought I'd never have that same Cheers-like experience where everybody knows your name. Thankfully, I was wrong.

In 2003, I took a temporary job that required me to commute to Dallas every day. And because I don't drive there, I took the commuter train.

During the first week, I quickly realized that there was a Cheers-like community on every train, especially the morning trains. I can't remember all the passengers' names, but I still remember some of their stories.

There was the librarian who had gotten a friend to fix him up with a lady in China. He planned to visit his new girlfriend and decided to learn Chinese. So as his walkman fed Chinese sounds into his ears, he attempted to mimic them, often louder than he meant to.

There was the veteran who volunteered several times a week at the VA Hospital. Despite being married, he claimed that every woman on the train was his girlfriend and regaled us with his stories of competing in the wheelchair Olympics.

There was the psychology professor with the gravelly voice who desperately wanted to serve on a jury. She surveyed fellow passengers about how she should answer questions from lawyers so that she could be picked the next time she received a juror summons.

There was the methadone addict who brought his bike onto the train and often had to detrain prior to his destination because he had forgotten to bring some required medicine with him. He warned that without it, he would be unpleasant to be around. We took his word for it.

There was the janitor who fell asleep within seconds of taking his seat and had to be awakened each day at his stop. While he was sleeping, other passengers would remark that he must have quite the night life or a second job that prevented him from getting enough sleep.

There was the medical researcher who worked at Southwestern Medical School who enjoyed watching me cross-stitch. One day, she asked if she could sew a row on a bib that I was working on, and I obliged. She did some backwards stitching on it that caused that one row to be higher than all the rest, but I couldn't undo it with her sitting beside me. It made for quite a story when I presented the gift to the recipient.

There was the archivist who had to clip portions of the paper each day on her commute. She was always on task.

I could go on listing other passengers and their stories, as well as the stories that evolved between the passengers and the train personnel, but hopefully you get the gist. This wasn't a Boston or NYC train. It was a Texas train filled with relational Southerners.

When I announced my last day of commuting after three short months and celebrated it by bringing pizza and Dublin Dr. Peppers for the crew, many of the passengers wished me luck and said their goodbyes with a disappointed look. It was as if to say they couldn't believe that I would ditch the commuting community, or maybe they were sorry that they had let me in to their little world considering that I ended up being a short-timer. They'd probably be surprised to know that I have often missed them and wanted to hear their new stories.

All of these memories have come flooding back this week as I have been making a few trips by train. I haven't seen any of the characters who played such large roles in the 2003 morning train community, but I'm not sure I really expected to. Instead, I'm content to remember it just the way it was back then. When everybody knew my name and was always glad I came.

Decision 2009

It's not a presidential election year. But that doesn't mean that the year holds fewer decisions to be made. Instead, the decisions tend to be on a personal level rather than at the national level. Or maybe that's just the case for me.

The posting here came to a grinding halt almost two weeks ago because an opportunity had arrived in my email's In box. That opportunity surprised me just as much as a similar one that came about the same time last year. After all, I thought that last year's opportunity was a one-time thing, especially after hearing this spring that the school had changed the way the students could fulfill their writing requirements.

So it was both exciting and a humbling honor to be asked to teach again. Something I didn't take lightly. In fact, my heart leapt on numerous levels.

Then, the reality of the opportunity set in. And with it, the questions started swirling in my head.

--Was I ready to take on this challenge again?
--Did I have the time to devote to teaching in order to do a good job?
--But more importantly, whether I was ready or had the time, did I feel like this was an opportunity God wanted me to take?

For those who followed my teaching journey last fall, it might surprise you to learn how much I wrestled with this decision. And how much I immediately wanted to accept. Because based on last year, a resounding "no" should have been on the tip of my tongue.

On paper, this opportunity looked better than last year's. But, in the end, I knew that the paper with my "pros" and "cons" couldn't make the decision for me. Neither could my feelings, which changed daily. There was no bright light illuminating the path I should take or the decision I should make.

So I prayed, and I tried to listen.

It was during that time that I realized how hard it is to listen, especially in a crunched time frame, when I haven't made a habit of listening on a regular basis. It's not fun to type that.

Nor was it easy to admit that to a couple of good friends who were praying for my decision. As I lamented about how hard it was to hear and how much I desired to be obedient in making "the right" decision, one of my friends mentioned that maybe the decision wasn't the important part of this whole opportunity. Maybe it was more about seeking God in the process.

I was so focused on the outcome of my decision---and all the planning that would need to be done if I accepted---that I didn't look at the opportunity from that angle. When my friend brought that to my attention, I was able to see how much my relationship with God had changed (for the better) in just a few short days because of a renewed seeking of His will instead of my own.

I ultimately decided to decline the opportunity and then promptly began worrying about what lessons I would miss by not teaching because I learned a lot about myself, God, and life in general through teaching last fall. But I came to the conclusion that such worries boiled down to me trying to put God in a box---thinking that my decision could somehow limit His ability to teach me lessons. As if!

I realized that if God has lessons that He wants me to learn, He is creative enough to instruct me in them. Even if I'm not in the classroom. And if I start to doubt, I can look back on this decisionmaking process as proof that lessons abound everywhere.

My Broken Town

When I think about where I live, these are the stats that are fun to hear:

• Fort Worth is the fastest growing large city (pop. 500,000+) in the U.S. with a population increase of 25% between 2000 and 2007.
• In 2008, Fort Worth’s population passed the 700,000 mark and is projected to reach over one million by 2030.
• The DFW metroplex is the second fastest growing metropolitan area in the U.S. with a projected population of 10.1 million by 2040 (in 2000, it was only 5.2 million). [Statistics taken from Oneglory.org]

These statistics underscore that I'm not the only one who thinks this is a great place to live. But I also know that this city isn't perfect.

Sad stories headline the news almost every night. I could lull myself into thinking that those stories come only from other parts of the Metroplex, but it simply wouldn't be true. Yet, even hearing individual stories that have taken place in Fort Worth doesn't have the same impact as seeing these statistics:

• 20,000 refugees from 45 different ethnicities live in Fort Worth.
• 8,000 people in Fort Worth need nursing home care but are unable to afford it.
• 4,000-5,000 people are homeless in Tarrant County (61% of those are women and children).
• At least 17 strip clubs operate in Fort Worth, plus at least one prostitution ring, employing hundreds of women.
• The Fort Worth Federal Correctional Institution holds 1,815 inmates, plus there are four major jails, one juvenile center, and numerous halfway houses.
• 1 of every 6 males and 1 of every 4 females in Fort Worth is sexually abused before age 18.
• 200-300 gangs exist in Fort Worth, which together have 5,000-6,000 members. [Also taken from OneGlory]

When I see the stories tallied up in this format, the brokenness comes to light. And the weight of it is overwhelming. All at once, I want to do something and nothing.

The "something" response is praying and/or giving financially. But then my self-imposed hierarchy of roles kicks in and tells me that these options for helping aren't good enough. Which leads me to the "nothing" response: other people are better equipped to serve and handle this situation, so I can just turn a blind eye to the bad statistics and enjoy the good ones.

But I shouldn't allow my self-imposed hierarchy of roles---that praying or giving financially are not "as good" as other roles like serving---to prevent me from praying and/or giving financially. And I shouldn't allow fear to prevent me from serving if that's the role I feel I'm being led to fill.

The above is easier said than done. So in order to fight the battles outside my front door, I guess I need to begin by conquering the mental battles within.

Blasts from the Past, 5 (Finale a/k/a Finally!)

Thirty years ago, on July 18, 1979, my status as an only child changed forever. A little seven-pound baby sister named Erin arrived. I quickly decided that I no longer liked my name and changed it to "Karen" in order to rhyme with my sister’s name.


My expectations of an immediate playmate were dashed when I realized that she could not write her name at six weeks of age. But Erin more than made up for that in the years that followed by agreeing to be my permanent student each time I announced, "Let’s play school; I’ll be the teacher." Ultimately, I would be the one learning from her.

Growing up, we didn’t share many traits or tastes or anything for that matter. I was always too concerned that Erin would break something as she always seemed to know how to take things apart, even things that weren’t meant to come apart. What I didn’t recognize then was that she was developing a skill, one that would allow her to later teach Mom and me how to use different electronics and to set up anything that is mechanical or technical.

When Erin learned to write, she started inventing recipes and memorializing them on my mother's spare recipe cards. For example, "2 fish, 1 Jiff, bake 10, get out." I don't know that she ever tried to make that protein-packed dish, but I do know that her recipes have come a long way since then. She now makes up recipes that are worth tasting and has a knack for knowing what ingredients to substitute in old, tried-and-true recipes to give them a new taste.

We didn't exactly get along well when we were growing up. We seemed to be complete opposites and couldn't find any common ground. But once I went to college, things changed. It was as if we both raised a white flag and decided to become friends. And since we've been friends, I've learned so much about what a big heart she has and how she goes above and beyond to help people. Even if it's just trying to get toll booth attendants to smile.

I couldn't ask for a better sister or friend. She puts her fear of flying aside to come for visits, she drives me all over this state and other states, she keeps me informed on current events, she prays for me, and she loves me with unconditional love. I'm glad I get to brag on here in honor of her 30th birthday.

So happy birthday, sweet Sister!

Blasts from the Past, 4

During the two years that I've been blogging, I've often wanted to go back and repost some of the earlier posts or put together a sampling of posts that I think represent what "Bluebonnet in the Snow" is all about. And since I haven't done that before, I thought I'd do that today as part of this week's "Blasts from the Past" series.

Let's Start with Semantics (originally posted June 3, 2007)

For those of you who aren’t from Texas, a bluebonnet is a wildflower that appears alongside Texas highways every spring.

For those of you who are from Texas, snow consists of frozen water vapor that falls to the ground in soft, white crystalline flakes.

Normally, these two natural “objects” would not be found together for obvious reasons. But with Texas weather, anything can happen, including having a wintery snowfall in the midst of spring. And that’s exactly what occurred on Easter weekend this year.

But that wasn’t the only odd occurrence this spring. It was around that time that I felt God awakening in me the desire/need/urge to write.

But I didn’t immediately put pen to paper (my preferred way of writing). Instead, I did what comes naturally to me: I questioned God.

“Lord, is this really something that you want me to do? You know I had that idea a few years back to write a book, but I had to scrap that because my motives were wrong. Would you help me do this without making this about me?”

“Lord, you know I write all day long for work and often struggle with getting things to flow and sound right. Have you equipped me to do this? You know that I'm not humorous (or at least not on purpose). And my creativity, while it stuck around a little longer than my flexibility, has long since faded. And I think that most of my best writing was used up during college. So do I really have what it takes to write?”

“Okay, Lord, I’ve been reading all these books and blogs about publishing in the Christian genre, and it isn’t easy. It’s actually a LOT harder than I could have imagined. There’s a marketing aspect involved, and I’m not sure that’s part of my skill set.”

“Lord, it took me 6 tries to be able to get my little blurb accepted to join The Christian Writers’ View. Were you trying to block me or test my perseverance? This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

As I was struggling through this process, I decided to pray beforehand for once. (I’m really guilty of going into things and asking God to bless my decisions instead of consulting Him ahead of time.) And through those prayers, I realized that it was right to pray beforehand, and at the same time, I realized that no matter how much prayer I put into this, I still might never be published. And I have to be okay with that. I need to accept God’s leading might not be calling me to a life of fame.

So even after all the prayers and questioning, I still felt God tugging on my heart to be obedient and to write. I didn’t get a lot of clear answers to my questions, mostly just reminders. I was reminded that sometimes when things seem so much bigger than me, it is something that God wants me to do in order to require me to lean on Him. (All I have to do is think back to getting my job and how I said after my not-so-great interview that the only way I was going to get the job would be for God to secure it for me.) And sometimes, God strips me of things I depend on (MY creativity, MY abilities, etc.) to allow His creativity and His ability to shine through. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “All writing comes by the grace of God.”

And so, I feel a little like a bluebonnet in the snow. I’m out of my comfort zone. But hopefully I will acclimate quickly and just enjoy the newness, the contrasts, and the opportunity to just hang out for as long as He allows in this world of writing and writers.

14 Inches (originally posted June 3, 2007)

Fourteen inches. That’s all. Sounds like a short enough distance that I could hop on one leg while blindfolded and still make it. But that’s not the leap at issue.

These fourteen inches are from my mind to my heart. And somehow, because of where those inches are located, the distance seems much greater. Just ask the nerves that run between the two organs. Mine are probably a bit weary from the constant battle.

My heart: I feel unseen, unwanted, unchosen.
My mind: Just believe the Truth.
(John 8:32)

My battle isn’t the only one like this. I talked to a friend today whose heart-mind battle looked a lot like mine but with different words. This friend said that family members affirmed that the outcome of a situation was good, but the heart couldn’t grasp that. It was holding onto a history of feelings. And the mind, which wanted to believe that all was well, was not sold on that outcome just yet. It was still allowing the heart to take the reins. And so the fourteen-inch battle was still in full swing.

To get my mind on top of my battle, I need to be willing to reject any feelings that are not consistent with the Truth. And I want to do that. It’s just, I get stuck sometimes with my heart on a different page than my mind. It’s as if my heart has taken my brain hostage, intercepted all the signals from my brain, and is directing the communication. My brain, which is powerful enough to solve calculus problems without any direction from my heart, is having trouble taking back over command central.

They say, “Pick your battles.” But, I’m not sure that I personally ever got a vote on this particular battle that my heart and mind started waging years ago. I’m signing off from the battlegrounds today, but I can’t say it will be the last time that my pesky heart stirs up trouble.

Slaying the Beast (originally posted July 8, 2007)

Have you ever found yourself saying, “If only I had . . .” or “If only so & so would . . . ”? I know I’m guilty of this. There always seems to be that one “thing” that I can’t have or at least that I can’t have YET. And I know I’m not the only one. Some of the “if only’s” that I know my friends are facing right now are as follows:

If only I was debt free.
If only depression/alcoholism didn’t run in our family.
If only we could afford a house.
If only a family member wasn’t battling cancer.
If only we could get pregnant.
If only I didn’t have to work and could stay home with my children.
If only my in-laws treated me better.
If only I had a loving spouse.
If only our marriage would be reconciled.
If only a friend or family member would accept Christ as his/her personal Savior.
If only I could get published.
If only I had time to workout.
If only I could afford to take a vacation.
If only I was pain free.

The “if only” that I’ve had at the top of my personal list lately is “If only I could slay ‘the beast,’” which is the nickname that I’ve given to a project that I’ve been working on for several months now. I had hoped to finish it before I went on vacation, but I just couldn’t wrap it up. Then, my first week back from vacation, I decided to work on some smaller projects in order to prove to myself that I could still do my job, which I had started to question. With those smaller projects behind me, I returned to the beast and told myself that it had to be conquered by tonight.

“The beast” started out to be very straight-forward. There was a lot to read, but I didn’t think it would be nearly as bad as it has been. It had gotten to the point that it was unwieldy and seemed so much bigger than my skill set. I just couldn’t seem to tame it. Until now. A draft is done. It isn’t the page-turner that I’d like for it to be, but it is ready for another set of eyes to pierce through it.

Throughout this time, I’ve been postponing my joy in anticipation of finishing this project. And yet, there’s been so much that I could have been joyful about throughout the process. For instance, I feel like I’ve identified some tasks that were taking me longer than necessary and have found some ways to make those tasks more efficient when I take on the next project. I’ve learned more succinct ways of phrasing things. And, I’ve been reminded daily of how I must depend on God for His help and wisdom.

I see this pattern often in my life. I wait for something big--an "if only"--to happen. I’m content for a while, and then a new “if only” makes its way to the forefront of my mind, and I postpone my joy in anticipation of fulfillment of the new “if only” criterion. It’s like a little child who asks for “just one thing” only to return and ask for another “just one thing” a few moments later because the previous toy or whatever is no longer satisfying.

By doing this, I’m not accepting that right where I am is God’s “Plan A” (as my friend calls it) for my life. I am doubting that this is God’s best for me. That He wants me to be right where I am right now to fulfill His purpose. And that I don’t need to rush things.

I wish that by writing this, I’d somehow be immune to going through another “if only” rollercoaster ride. But I know it’s not that simple. Instead, I’ll need to be on the alert for it and remind myself that the One Thing that my soul is really searching for is available right now; I don’t have to wait for it.

“Enough” by Chris Tomlin

All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough

You are my supply
My breath of life
And still more awesome than I know
You are my reward worth living for
And still more awesome than I know

All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough

You’re my sacrifice
Of greatest price
And still more awesome than I know
You’re the coming King You are everything
And still more awesome than I know

More than all I want
More than all I need
You are more than enough for me
More than all I know
More than all I can say
You are more than enough for me
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If none of those were new to you, let me say thanks for being a loyal reader!

Tomorrow's post will have fresh material, so be sure to stop by and check out the finale for this series.

Blasts from the Past, 3

I wish I was as smart as I was in college. Seriously. When I look back over some of the papers I wrote, I have no idea how I came up with such lofty ideas or how I came up with so many of them for all my different classes.

So today's post is a short paper I wrote during my first year of college. This particular paper jumped out at me because I remembered the meditative part of the assignment (i.e., sitting outside my dorm and listening to the night), but I have no recollection of Annie Dillard's essay or who in the world Soetsu Yanagi is/was. So without further ado, here's "Artificial Eyes" (copyright October 12, 1993 by me).

When the editors of Webster's Third New International Dictionary defined "seeing" as "the act of using one' sense of sight," they obviously had not undergone a meditative experience nor had they read essays about seeing by Annie Dillard or Soetsu Yanagi. After I had completed these activities, "seeing" conjured up a more complex definition: the process of perceiving the artificial obvious through personal and sensual involvement. But how do people do this? Do they need artificial eyes?

In her essay "Sight into Insight," Annie Dillard says that in order to perceive, one must have a love for the object being perceived. To illustrate this idea, she explains that a horse lover can readily draw a detailed picture of any type of horse, even if he or she is not an artist, and those who do not love horses will struggle to come up with more than a stick figure. Another prerequisite for perception is the knowledge that comes from prior experience with the object which one wants to see. One must use this knowledge to create a situation which will allow the artificial obvious (that which is present, but usually overlooked) to be seen. For instance, deer hunters cannot look for the full body of a deer when hunting. Instead, hunters must go to a wooded place, look for hoof prints, listen for the sounds of leaves or branches crackling, and search for patches of white in order to see a deer. Therefore, personal experience and sensual involvement unite to enable one to see an object.

Soetsu Yanagi offers different insight on the subject of seeing in his essay "Seeing and Knowing." Yanagi's essay, which dwells on how to see beauty, presents several views which directly conflict with Dillard's views. Yanagi says, "Seeing is a born faculty . . . ." Yet one who has no experience cannot place what he or she looks at into context. For instance, people seldom remember the events that occurred before their second birthdays because they had little prior experience with which to associate the events and thus no way of forming a memory. As more experience is gained, the ability to see becomes possible. Therefore, Dillard is correct in saying that the ability to see comes from learning and experience. In addition, Yanagi states, "seeing and knowing form an exterior and an interior . . . " and are separate. However, Dillard's example of people who have cataract surgery disproves Yanagi's view. Those who have had no experience with seeing must revert back to their own way of "seeing" things, such as by touching, tasting, etc., even after they regain their sight because the sight of an object does not enable them to recognize the object. Thus, as Dillard proposed, knowing and seeing must work together to provide more knowledge. Yanagi also contends that if a work of art is picked apart by scrutinization, it will crumble because the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Dillard, on the other hand, says that only when one searches for the details can the artificial obvious, such as the deer, be discovered. Thus, Dillard's essay, rather than Yanagi's essay, helped me to grasp the concept of seeing, but it was not until I meditated in nature that I fully understood what it meant to really see.

My time of meditation allowed me to view a familiar place in a new light. I felt in touch with nature because I actually heard the crickets, and I felt the wind as it made my hair tickle my ears and my neck. I forced myself to pay close attention to the sights, sounds, and smells of the area, and I became an immediate nature lover. I was able to understand why environmentalists get so excited about saving the earth. Also, this closeness with nature permitted me to release my tensions and to develop an inner peace. Most importantly, though, I realized that unless one consciously perceives the details of life, details do not exist in one's mind. Therefore, I developed a process for seeing the details or artificial obvious all the time.

First, we should strain to see beyond the obvious because the obvious does not give us insight. In order to get beyond the obvious to the artificial obvious, we should create an artificial situation in which we interact with the object to find out what is artificial about the object. Interaction can include past experiences with the article or how the article affects one's self. Once interaction has taken place, we must generalize about the object in relation to its place in the world. Finally, we should look at the object as a new object included in our life. Thus, in order to gain sight of the "artificial obvious," we must go through the steps of private exploration, public or world exploration, and private reflection. The "artificial obvious," then, is a combination of all three elements, which is why it is so difficult to see at first.

The previously described process becomes useful when meeting new people because people are often predisposed to stereotype others based on appearance. For instance, people who do not know me well would never guess that I describe myself as a quilt with many varied pieces which form a uniquely, organized and interesting pattern. Some pieces are instantly noticeable, but others are very subtle and take longer to find and to discover how they fit into the total pattern. Several events in my life have caused temporary stains, but other have become permanent stains. At times the fabric has become torn, but it is usually mended easily and does not affect the overall form. Occasionally, the quilt is compactly folded up and tucked away, but most of the time it is spread out for all to see. Sometimes the quilt is used to comfort those who are cold. However, once those people are warm, it often gets pushed away. It would like to please everyone--those who want to enjoy it from a distance as a wall-hanging and those who want to experience it more personally as a coverlet. Yet, the quilt cannot perform such a feat, so it does its best to please as many people as possible. Some people dislike the first piece of the pattern and decide to move on to other quilts without looking any closer at my quilt. But if everyone would view the quilt's intricacies as unique details, rather than as deterring flaws, his or her views would change because he or she would see the artificial obvious in me.

Seeing the artificial obvious takes love, experience, and knowledge, rather than artificial eyes. Once one is able to truly "see" according to my definition, he or she can find the inner peace that comes from not taking the small details of objects for granted. After all, one will not be able to discover the quilts of life without learning to see the artificial obvious.
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If you read all that, you are quite the devoted reader, and I thank you. I hope that there are no questions because I have no answers as I no longer know what all that meant! Class is officially adjourned.