Holly and Jolly

It's Christmas week and I'm trying to figure out why I'm at work when it seems almost everyone else is not.

Does it seem to anyone else that Christmas seems a bit anticlimatic? I mean, don't get me wrong... my holiday was happy. My parents spoiled me rotten and I enjoyed every minute of it, and the time off with them was a lovely little break.

But maybe it's the advertiser's fault, but sometimes I feel like all problems should be solved on Christmas, you know? Like.. with one gift or one party or one special holiday ritual--all will miraculously be well. That song that the radio plays.. "one day at Christmas" all will be well.

But I suppose, as usual my focus is in the wrong direction.
One day at Christmas, God sent His Son. One day at Christmas He made it so that we could know God. One day at Christmas, God so loved the world.

And one day at Christmas, He'll return.

Now that should make us jolly still.

Not Feeling Funny

So I've always thought that I was pretty funny. I mean, not in a stand up comedic, I crack myself up kind of way--but I know that a lot of my friends find me amusing. And honestly, a lot of the time, I find myself amusing--and life, and God--it all makes me smile.

And then there are days that I just.. I don't feel funny. Or amusing, or lighthearted, or delighted, or any of those happy things. And then I think, what do I possibly have to give the world on a day like that? I've described this feeling before to friends as losing (or at least misplacing) my joy.

But I really think this is a matter of not refueling. The only way that I can share joy and love with others, is if I tap into the Source of joy and love--and have Him fill me up to overflowing. Otherwise, it's just scraping the bottom of the well.. a very dry, unfunny, lonely well.

New Apartment

So before I begin, can I ask why the call them "apartments"? They're not "set apart" they're all bunched together...I think they should call them "compartments" because sometimes that's what they feel like...like those tiny nook and crannies in your car..mmm

Okay--so I moved. I moved across town to the street where my church is. I've been meaning to move for the last six years or so, it just never really worked out that I could.. and now I'm here. I'm not commuting a half hour to get everywhere, I'm close to work, to church to friends. I have arrived.

And of course, as in all cases when you feel that you have arrived.. the bottom is about to fall out.

Today, it was in the form of the very nice receptionist from the dentist office downstairs. I had just gotten out of the shower and I hear a soft dingdong and I grab my robe and head to the door only to find her friendly face there, and as I struggle to get the door unlocked and opened, she says.. that the shower is leaking into the office, and oh, so you're done with the water? well, yeah, now that I'm dripping all over the snow covered stoop...I am. Well, don't catch cold, she says, and say she'll call the landlord. Ten minutes later she's back (I'm still in my robe with slightly less wet hair) to tell me the plumber is coming on Tuesday.. could I not use that shower til then.. yeah, yeah...No one cares if I'm clean anyway.

And the boxes are beginning to clear out..but the odd thing about finally living where I always wanted to is that since "all my friends" live fairly close by, I guess I assumed that I was missing out on something living so far away, and the truth is, I wasn't. I mean, it's a nice neighborhood and everything, and I'm beginning to love the town...but it's going to take awhile before it's home.

Hope and Joy

For the first time in three years, I am not working retail for the holiday season. I haven't had to look at Christmas merchandise since October. There aren't mobs of crazed shoppers demanding that I find the perfect gift book for their dad's brother's kid's next door neighbor. I am free of the grudging dread I feel as I see the mobs start descending.

So what is this season supposed to be, if it's not a frenzied free for all at the mall? I was challenged at church last week to not let my holiday get as crazy and frenzied and busy as the rest of the world. I should use this time to slow down and reflect and take time out for the poor. And as I contemplated what I could do differently, I realized that the church calendar provides a season for reflection before Christmas. Something that as a nondenominational church, ours seems to have forgotten. It's something called Advent.

My mother's church has an advent wreath, and lit a candle each week before Christmas, but I never really sensed what it all was about. But it's more about hope--looking with hope toward God for our salvation. Like Israel did for centuries, waiting for their Messiah. It is also a time of expectancy.. when we can look with hope again, toward the second advent of our King.

So let us not look at the coming season with dread--but hope and joy. Joy that God does provide a way of salvation for His people, and hope that He is coming again to take us home.

Why don't we believe Him?

So God tells me that I am loved. That He has my best interests at heart. That He loves me so much that He sent His son to die for me. And nothing I can do can change that. I am enough for that kind of sacrifice just by my own little, lonesome, sinful self.

So, why don't I believe it?

Why are the other voices that I hear louder than the voice of the God of the universe? The voices on the TV that say until we have the latest thing, we aren't quite complete...the romantic movie that says we have to find our other half to be whole...the bank account that echoes with the hopes of "when I arrive".

And what about the dearer voices? What about the father who said with his absence that there wasn't anything interesting enough to keep him around? The guys who don't feel the same way, the bosses who downsize with no explanation

...and still others who leave only pain and feelings of worthlessness by abusing what does not belong to them.

And then there's the corroborating witnesses in our heads--the ones who keep convincing us that our sad conclusions are true. We are worthless, deserving of only small, mediocre, unsung lives.

Why are those voices so loud? Why do we believe "them"? Why is God's voice so quiet in comparison? Is He even there?

We know the answer is yes, right? Tozer says of God, "He is nearer than our own soul, closer than our most secret thoughts". Maybe the reason He doesn't shout is because he doesn't have to. He's so close, He needs only to whisper. We simply need to be quiet enough to hear Him.

So please.. would the world and the voices in my head--please shut up? I'm listening for the voice of the Almighty. To tell me I'm loved, to tell me that I am worthy because my worth is in Him. To tell me I'm safe from the howling storm that is the world and the voices that scream in the winds.

Faith and Foolhardiness continued

So I've been thinking about Kierkegaard again. And what I've come up with is this. I'm not sure I buy into the whole--believing in the absurd. Because, like I said, if you don't have the promise of God to cling to, then there's no guaruntees about what you're holding on to.

But we can believe that God is good and in control. And that if He asks us to do something we don't understand, we can trust that he knows what he's doing and obedience is still the best answer. We can trust that he's still looking out for our good and loves us and wants to bless us with the desires of our hearts. And that's even when the road seems dark and the son of promise is on the altar. I think this absurd faith Kierkegaard speaks of is still believing that God wants life to be abundant-- that he has a plan for us to give us a future and a hope--it's believing the promises are true, even when all immediate evidence would tell us otherwise. It's knowing God, and acting according to his nature and his love and not according to the circumstances of a moment.

Fuzzy thoughts

So it's a new month. And I have acquired a new head cold. And I don't want to do anything. Not that I was a blurr of activity before the cold hit. But now.. I just want to curl up under the covers and tell the world to go away and stop pounding my poor head.

In other news, it's finally feeling like fall. I get so excited when the seasons turn. Finally I can wear long sleeves and jackets. The air is crisp, the sky clear. And then, the clouds roll in and the damp settles into your bones and I'm counting the days until spring.

BUT, I think that's my cold talking. Because like a friend likes to remind me, rain makes the flowers grow...and through the drear is when we see rainbows best.

Radio racing

So this morning, on my way to work... I had the radio on. Now, as a rule, I don't like morning shows. Radio is for music, and talking on the radio is just annoying. Anyway, this particular morning show is not usually too annoying and they were playing a game called "my three songs" where they play three songs with a common link and you have to figure out what it is. I heard the first two, and I thought I knew what it was.. and when they played the third.. I knew I was right, so I tried to call (besides, the prize was Flyers tickets and I have a friend who's a huge fan). Busy signal.. busy signal.. I guess I won't get through...I'll call one more time... and it rang!! and they asked me my answer and...

It was wrong. They said to keep trying... but I'm easily pleased, I felt important just for getting through.

To my sister

Dear Alleta,

It's hard to believe that it's been ten years--Since I saw your smile, since I heard your voice. Seems just last week when we were laughing uncontrollably on our back deck, and saying hi to the boys on the strip.

You would've turned thirty this year...hard to believe. I always think of you as that carefree teenager I first saw dancing to the oldies, and coloring in the car on our way to Florida. It would have been nice to know you as an adult...I often wonder what you would think if you could see my life now.

Most of all, I wish I had the chance to know you as a child of God. I always like to think that you would encourage me to walk by faith and not take things too seriously...that much you taught me even in the last few months of your life.

I miss you. I miss having a sister. I was thinking today of what you must be doing now. I know you're beautiful once again, and probably get into mischief even in paradise. And I know you're dancing. Dancing before the One who must still have some work for me to do here.

Save me a dance, Alley. I love you.

Rainbow Weather

I was driving home today and I saw a little rainbow piece hanging by itself in the sky.

My favorite kind of weather (even better than 72 and perfect) is rainbow weather. You know those days. The sky is cloudy, some gray, some white, fluffy and rolling, usually moving swiftly, with little bits of blue, and sunshine peeking through. It's always bad when I'm driving on those days. I'm constantly on the lookout for rainbows...

I don't want to offend those who like science a whole lot, but I've never been real satisfied with the scientific explanation for rainbows. I still take them as signs from God--that He's there, even when I can't see His face, or, in cases like today, that He still has a few surprises in store even when I think I've got it together.

So, when things look bad. Your days are gray, and you can't really see God's face---keep a look out. It's through tears that the laughter is sweetest and only with a good cloudy day can God show His colors of promise..

Faith and Foolhardiness

So don't ask me why, but I've been reading Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling. And with much high falutent language he says that Abraham's faith when he was asked to sacrifice Isaac (Genesis 22) was truly exceptional because Abraham believed the absurd. He believed that even though God asked him to give up his son, that God would still find a way to restore Isaac to him. God's promise would stand.

Kierkegaard goes on to say that there's a difference between infinite resignation, and true faith. Resignation is what a lot of people see as faith. They see a situation and see the impossibility of it, they face the pain and press on, knowing God is all loving and knows best. They see eternity as when they will find happiness. He asserts, though, that faith goes one step further. Faith faces the impossibility of a situation, knows for a fact that it can not happen, and then trusts God to do it anyway--even if all forms of human logic make it seem that it just can not happen. Faith looks for God's provision in this life.

I suppose the truth of this assertion would be dependent on what the situation is. I mean, Abraham was depending on the promise of God. That's a pretty reliable plan. If we're simply looking at our own hopes and dreams and just seeing that they aren't unfolding and yet believe with all out might that God will do it. Isn't that just foolhardiness? Blind optimism? I can't really get my head around that being faith. I'm going to rassle with this some more and get back to you.

Future Police Officer

Must share this report from my brother on vacation. He has twin boys that are almost four. He and his wife and the boys are all visiting my father down in Virginia.

They arrived at their hotel and found that the place provided valet parking. So they relinquished their vehicle and went inside to check in. Apparently, the window in their room looks out on the parking garage, where all the cars are parked. Little Jacob looks out the window and sees his car being driven over in this garage. He says, "someone stole our car!!"

And for anyone who doubts a four year old's memory, an hour or so later, when they reached the lobby on their way out to dinner, Jacob spots the valet and in his loudest voice in the middle of the lobby he says, "Hey, that's the man who stole our car!!"

Fortunately, he was a good sort and just laughed, as did everyone else within shouting distance.

Miss Graceful

So I was walking down the stairs at my church, talking and laughing with some friends, and suddenly, my feet don't work and I'm trying to stay upright...I had missed the last step before the landing, and landed on the side of my foot. I was hoping this was like every other ungraceful decent I've made down the stairs, and tried to walk as usual.

No such luck. My foot hurt with every step. Under friendly advice, I went home and put ice on it. It turned greenish blue, and swollen. So..I went to the doctor, only to have her say.. wrap it and ice it and go get an x-ray. And the x-rays are negative so I've got a sprain on my hands (uh, I mean my foot) though not my ankle apparently, but the inner joints of my foot which are used with each and every step.

And if I didn't feel silly, and clutzy enough for doing this in the first place--you should see the progress I make on crutches! And the colors my foot is turning, ah.. well.. it's like a rainbow...

Grrr. why is getting hurt so dang inconvenient??

Ready or not

This weekend I went to a wedding at my church. The groom is only about seven years younger than me, but when I started attending, he was sixteen. Now he’s out of college and an actual adult and getting married to a beautiful girl and I’m thinking in my head—he can’t possibly get married! He’s just a kid.

And my cynical self turns to me and says, well, you’re just bitter because he’s getting married and you’re not. And I suppose part of that might be true, but there’s more to it than that. It’s not just that he’s getting married and I want to…it’s just that getting married seems like an awful grown-up thing to do. Like, you really should have most of your life and identity together before you go and attempt to link it with someone else’s.

Maybe it’s his maturity level that I envy. Because most days, I can’t possibly convince myself that I am any where near ready to be where I am in life, let alone where I want to be.

But are you ever really ready? Isn’t every step of the journey a leap of faith? I mean, some days it takes faith to take that first step out of bed. It sure would take a whole lot of faith to step into marriage.

Maybe that’s the key. I feel overwhelmed when I think I need to do everything or have everything figured out. Maybe maturity comes from knowing for sure that I don’t know anything for sure, except that I don’t have it together, or “what it takes” and probably never will---but having the faith that God will show me each step when I need to know and give me the grace and courage to follow Him, wherever that may lead.

And ready or not, life is a leap. So may the Lord increase our faith.

Just Because

Here I am again, with lots to say. But before I do, as way of transition, I'd like to post a poem about someone who I still like to think of as a friend, and Someone I should remember is always my Best Friend.

Because of him I drink coffee more than tea,
Because of him Hannah and Jayber are friends to me.
Because of him St. Augustine quotes make me glad,
Because of him questions about God are never bad.
Because of him I cherish my family more,
Because of him I shy away from friends that bore.

But because of him, my heart was sore.

But because of Him, I am on the mend,
Because of Him the road had a bend.
Because of Him I’m not walking by sight
Because of Him my burden is light.
Because of Him I can sing
Because of Him I can do all things.

Because He gave me everything.

Here's to depending on the One who will never let us down.

Words and pictures

Recently I had a friend save all the information from my old computer on to this one, and just now have had a chance to read some of the material. About five years ago, I apparently had taken to writing a legacy for any future generations who cared to see what it was like to be me. Let me tell you, it must have been a lot easier to be me then than it is to be me now.. because I was a lot smarter! The wisdom I found in these lines would astound you. I had no doubt of God having a plan. I thought that if things weren't "the way they were supposed to be" then God had something greater in mind. I was firmly convinced.

How was my younger self so much smarter than my older self? Is it merely a matter of my older self feeling jaded? Tossed around a little too often by this plan God has for my life? Have I simply lost sight of that assurance that used to come so easily? What has so complicated my life that I've lost my grip of that most important thing?

Maybe I was just writing for posterity. I wanted to sound like I had used my lessons to become a better person, a better Christian, so future generations could do the same--but it doesn't really give an accurate picture of my heart when I wrote it.

Maybe I was just better at lying to myself back then.

On a similar note I've also been thinking about photographs. I've been feeling a bit blue and unsure of myself lately. So I thought I'd cheer myself up by making a sort of "I'm pretty blessed" encouragement collage for myself. I raided my picture collection and took all the pictures I found of me and people and me being silly and pictures of family and fun times, and I stuck them to my wall.. there must be over a hundred at least (so I have too much time on my hands...sue me)and it takes up most of my bedroom wall. But it makes me smile, so it has served its purpose.

It also makes me realize why some people don't like pictures very much. We always smile for pictures. In almost every one of those pictures (the ones I like, anyway, and therefore the ones I chose) I'm smiling, with very few exceptions. And though my life has been good, it's not always been happy. So those pictures, like my wisdom for posterity, are a very unrealistic picture of the way things were.

So here's to honesty...in word, deed and pictures.

But I think I like the pictures anyway. I like to think that God gives us reasons to smile, laugh and have a good time even amidst sadness, confusion and pain. And if the joy is what we remember and commemorate--then God has fulfilled that promise of bringing everything to our good.

And if God can use my own words to encourage me, then think of what other creative twists he may have in store.

Same Old Me

I am aware that my previous post seemed to suggest that I'm entirely new, and my perspective of the world has been altered...but of my life? Why isn't it easy to keep our focus off of ourselves when we're immersed in our own little worlds? Why do my small problems still creep up on me, frustrate me, and drain my mental and spiritual resources? Why can't I keep the big picture in mind, and remember that though I may have frustrations, they are small in the grand scheme of things?

Because I'm human, I suppose. And no matter where I go, no matter what my good intentions are, I'm still stuck with me. Even relying on God to do the work, it seems I'm always the little kid in the workshop, getting her hands in the way of what her Father is doing. Does anybody else wish He'd tell us what He's doing, so we'd know? So we'd relax.. I feel like I keep saying.."Watcha doin?" and He won't tell me so I keep putting my nose into what he's doing, getting in the way. He can't just give me a hint of what it may look like when He's done?

Why is it so hard to trust that what He's doing is for His glory and my good? Why can't I take Him at His word? Maybe I should spend some time reading His word to remind myself of His intentions.

Wind of change

So, yes, i don't like change. But sometimes change is good. Change of perspective, change of priority--change of horizon... So be prepared. I'm changing as you read this. I just came back from the Domincan Republic.. and there, well, they need change.

I went to the DR with my church to work with an organization called Kids Alive International. We worked with them building some bathrooms onto a school, and we played a lot of wiffle ball with some beautiful kids. These children live in such poverty, with barely enough food to stay alive each day, the bare minimum of everything--and yet...they give their love freely. They grab your hand as you walk through their village. They walk up and hug you for no reason at all except that you're there and you smiled at them. They play just like any other kids and it breaks your heart because you know where they're going to go home to after they leave you playing in a field...and there's nothing it seems we can do.

But Kids Alive gives them hope. They run care centers, which gives the kids a full meal each day and Bible classes and a good education. They also run orphanages to take kids out of the most desperate of circumstances---children left to fend for themselves, children abused, children locked away from the world. They take them out of those nightmares and place them into loving Christian homes--where they have Christian parents and an environment that encourages them to grow up to serve Christ.

It's an amazing idea. They're amazing kids, and there are amazing opportunities to serve in this small Caribbean country. I'll write more later, but be prepared.. I am not the same as I once was. These kids...they followed me home.

Ray of Sunshine

Have you ever met someone who is just a ray of light into your life? There's a girl at my church. I've known her since she was in middle school. She sings beautifully. And she's always been cute and funny and popular and everything I wasn't in high school--and only on my good days since. She's in college now, and I've gotten to know her better. She really is as good as she seems. Unfailingly smiling, sweet, enthusiastic and really focused on what God is doing--in her and through her. She sings at venues throughout the surrounding area. And her music.. it never fails to encourage me to look toward God, not to settle for less than His best--to press on even when we can't see the way, because we know Who does.

So thanks to Claire, for her joy and for still being everything I want to be. But more than anything, for giving me a happy song.

Hairapy

And now for a little distraction...

I've inherited much of my hair's personality from my mother. A little unruly.. a lot dry..a bit of frizz. I don't have a "bad hair day". I have a "good hair day" and then every other day is a matter of trying to recreate conditions to have another good one... with very little success.

This sad fact has come to my attention because today happens to be an excellent hair day. My hair dried perfect.. it's soft, shiny.. and is laying down like it's supposed to. A perfect hair day. WOW. And what was my most excellent plans for this evening.. hot date? Photo shoot? Some gala affair where perfect hair is a prerequisite for entrance?

Alas.. it was me in the laundry room for most of the evening and grabbing a bite to eat with my one of my bestest friends, attired in my laundry pants.

Sigh...God's time is an amazing thing, isn't it?

Ok.. that's it. No more posts about my hair. I promise.

Ache of Sorrow

So, it happened in a small mountain town in Virginia instead of in New York City on TV. It happened to college students and professors instead of average office workers and plane passengers going about their business. It happened because of one troubled young man with a gun, instead of an organized plot by a terrorist group.

And yet, the recent tragedy at Virginia Tech has troubled my heart even more than that horrific Tuesday morning in September in 2001. I think it's because I went to school in a small mountain town in Virginia. I was an RA. I was an English major. My greatest friends were at college. Outside my family, my professors were my first mentors.

And even now, I work with college students at church. One of my closest friends teaches at a university. And every time the news shows the pictures of those who were killed, I see those kids, that friend. It could've been any one of them. My heart aches, with sadness, and with thankfulness that mine were not involved.

And compared to the parents who sent their kids to school, only to have them never come home; compared to the classmates and roommates and friends of those lost; compared to all of those waiting for those smiling faces to return---my ache is so incredibly minor.

As we all grieve, I pray that we hold our loved ones closer, and keep those most affected in most fervent prayer. And to all the college students out there who feel a little unsteady since Monday--hang on to God. He'll uphold you. And to those at Virginia Tech--may you know God's peace and the comfort of His love.

Brave and new

I am so not brave. I pick the same thing at my favorite restaurants every time I go. I've never had my ears pierced. I don't go anywhere without a sweater.

I'm not afraid of normal things. Heights are not a problem...spiders don't freak me out...I can even clean the bathroom without rubber gloves...but bobble-head dolls? They are creepy.

But do you know what has always scared me the most? Change. I kept my first cell phone for five years. Shoes are sitting in my closet from high school...

And growing up? I've never wanted to be a grown-up. Not in the sense of I never wanted grown-up responsibilities, but I didn't want anything to change. Everything wasn't always good--far from it--but I wanted what I knew. The unknown is so scary.

But what I've been learning, is that I don't know anything. And if I stick to what I know, I'm going to have a very small life. Not only that, but change is the one thing that you can count on in this life--so we must face it. As much as I hate to admit that, hiding hasn't exactly been working.

So what do we do--when we long for consistency in a world that is always changing? We take God at His word and know He's the same yesterday, today and forever. Good to know some things, well... one thing... doesn't change.

Brown Sugar

It started a few years ago. Every now and then, I'd find one. I'd groan, get rid of it and move on. And then, this year, they started showing up three at a time. Pretty soon, there was no hope to simply shed them--they had to be conquered.

Yes, that's right. My hair has decided to change color all on it's own. But instead of the soft brown with the occasional red highlight, that all the other hairs on my head have been for the last twenty odd years, these pesky ones on the top of my head prefer a more snowy shade--much like the one found on my mother's head, and as much as I love my mother, well, let's just say I'm too young to look like her in this particular way. Something had to be done.

But where to start?The multitudes of boxes stared at me from the shelves of the store. It couldn't possibly be plain brown...not my head o' hair. But plain brown wasn't even an option--there's just "carmel mocha" and "almond cappacino" and then there it was..."Brown sugar". Or in layman's terms "Light Golden Brown"...a perfect match. I marched my way to the check out sure that no one would ever know--it was my natural hair color only in a box. Or was it? The smiling woman on the package just beamed with confidence but I wasn't so sure she could be trusted. My roommate assured me that people do this all the time.. so I let her put the sticky, smelly stuff on my head.. and waited until the minutes ticked away...then it was shower time. And all the brown went down the drain, and it dried--it looked the same--hurray!

But as it dried.. it got lighter, and redder. and now I can tell I dyed my hair and I don't like the fact--not with my allergy to change. I suppose once I get used to this, it'lll grow out and cause me panic again. Sigh.

Shower of Flowers

I like giving flowers. Now don't get me wrong I like getting them too. But the reaction to flowers is almost unfailingly positve, so I don't like to wait on the thoughtfulness of others. And giving flowers for no reason at all, just to say "cheer up" or "surprise" or "glad you're you" does something good for my soul--one of those mysterious 'giving is better than receiving' sort of things no doubt. Today, it was "happy spring"--it's still March and there's still some very ugly snow on the ground, but you can almost taste it on the breeze and the temp is up to 50 degrees--and though they don't last forever, flowers always make me smile, and everyone could use a few more smiles--and so I bought flowers and gave them to a few friends. If gift giving is ever a selfish thing to do, then I'm guilty today, because I felt so good dropping them off.

And why is it that girls are the only ones who ever get flowers? It seems that some girls acutally need to have flowers sent to them on all special occasions. How often do you hear about a boy getting flowers sent to him, aside from a death in the family? Never. And really, there's no reason for this, flowers are just God's gift to cheer one when one is down... or to say "I appreciate you" in a demonstrative way. And men can appreciate beauty, and a little color. And have you seen most guy's apartments? Not usually the most cheery places on the planet.

So send the boys flowers! and boys, appreciate the gesture, and the beauty and color of the flowers and of the one who sent them.

Peace on Earth

So why did I decide that all had to be well for me to be well? TV tells us that we must be happy and if we're not happy we must get happy. Unless you live in denial, life is not always happy--not even mostly.

But God doesn't promise happiness. He promises He'll be there when life isn't all you want it to be. He promises He'll stay the same when everything else changes. He promises to stay in when every other friend walks out. And when I concentrate on that, there's something better than happiness-- there's peace...and hope, that life may be happy yet.

Finding a friend

I'ts always a great thing to find a friend. Finding someone that you don't have to explain yourself to because they already know you.

Why am I surprised to find a friend in my mother? Is it just trying to live on my own that has made me hesitant to ask for her advice and to go to her for comfort? She gives her "motherly advice" on a regular basis... but I found today that she may be the one person that understands some of my moods, because she deals with the same ones. And somehow instead of that scaring me that I'm "like my mother", it comforts me that I have someone to talk to who understands exactly where I'm coming from.

Waiting room

We're all waiting. As kids, we wait until we're grownups; in high school we're waiting for college; in college, we're waiting for graduation--and then we start waiting again. Waiting for that perfect job offer, waiting for that guy to call, waiting for the next step to be clear so our lives can begin, because that next step will be the one that makes everything fall into place. But what about the meantime? What about this waiting area that we can't find our ways out of?

What if the next step is to enjoy where we are? No matter where it is. Maybe if we take each day as it comes, then it won't seem like we're waiting at all. Like when we take a good book to the doctor's office and we don't notice that it takes an hour for them to call our name. Cliches are running through my brain about watching pots boil, but it's true. Talk to a friend while cooking if you don't believe me.. instead of checking the water five times to see if it's rolling yet, or flipping batter all over the griddle instead of a pancake.. you'll be dealing with water all over your stove and bisquick hockey pucks because time will pass faster.

So until the next big thing, I'm going to enjoy all the little things in this waiting room, and see how fast the time goes...