Dancing to a Different Beat

So a few weeks ago I was in Chicago. It seemed like a nice city. I was there for a conference for work. And as I got off the plane with my coworkers, I noticed that my breathing seemed a bit labored. Mmm. So I took out the trusty inhaler.

I didn't notice much of an improvement. But I lugged my luggage (hah.. I wonder if that's where the word luggage came from..) to the rental car shuttle. I drove the frighteningly big SUV (that I got care of all the free upgrades) into the city, parked the massive thing in the garage, sat through orientation and got to dinner--all the while thinking--my lungs don't seem to be working properly.

Calling my mom, she advised to take my inhaler, drink fluids and see if it's better in the morning--and if not--"get yourself to an emergency room". Ok...that doesn't sound like fun.

But the next morning, despite having slept fine (and having avoided serious injury after slipping on the ridiculously slick bathroom floor in the dorm I was staying in) the breathing problem was worse. And when I tried to multitask--like sing and stand up and breathe--well.. I was rewarded with lightheadedness and slight palpitations. Needless to say, this was not normal.

But what to do? I'm at a strange college, in a strange city--and my coworkers are off giving seminars. A woman who was also there for the conference stopped to talk to me about something else, and when I imparted to her that I was having a bit of a time breathing, she prayed with me--and then she talked to the administration desk and found that there was a group of students who volunteer to take people to the hospital when they need it. So my new friend arranged for them to come get me.

Then this young guy shows up and takes us through the city at a break neck pace (if I wasn't already having breathing issues, I might have developed them) and eventually got us to the ER at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. My friend stayed with me until they got my name at the desk and then she left. It wasn't long until they took me aside for triage..and I got a red sticker. (which means I'm the most urgent of cases, which is slightly alarming and comforting at the same time).

They called my name soon after and took me upstairs to a pretty nice little room.
"you can put on this gown--take off everything to the waist..." which is easily done.. but trying to tie the dumb gown at the back while having shortness of breath? Not so much. I finally asked the nurse if she could help me out..which I seriously don't think I should have to ask.. but alas.. what can you do?

So after she grilled me about my asthma habits, I finally imparted the information that it really didn't feel like my normal asthma and there was pressure in my chest...so she put me on a heart monitor. And that's when the show started.

Apparently my heart was going from 85 beats a minute.. to 185 beats per minute. I had doctors in my room pretty quick after that. They told me they were going to try and figure it out. I felt like I was on an episode of "House" except less witty dialogue.

They did all kind of fun and not so fun tests. Gave me drugs (I mean meds) At one point I was hooked up to so many things--two IV tubes, a heart monitor, a blood pressure cuff, a pulse-ox cord..it was quite an ordeal just to go three feet to the bathroom, I can tell you.

They told me my potassium was low, so they were going to give me some--but apparently potassium is caustic, so they had to dilute it--I kept trying to tell them that they could have just fed me some bananas. I mean--they're rich in potassium and they would serve another purpose--I was starving..

Anywho..the checked everything--no blood clot in my lung...no hyperactive thyroid...no drugs in my system (apparently cocaine could have caused it)...and nothing wrong with the function of my heart (I should know, I got to watch it on the screen)

Turns out some of the signals in your heart can just go wacky... and send the wrong signals and cause your heart to beat irregularly. So I got to spend the night in the hospital (not reccommended) and eat really bad food (and have the food lady yell at me) just for them to tell me that it's one of those weird things that don't have any root cause, they just happen.

SO they told me to go straight home (much to my mother's relief who was going crazy back in PA; and much to my chagrin since I had planned on visiting friends) and go see an Electrophysiology Cardiologist and ask him what to do...apparently there's a procedure they can do, to go in and zap it. (sounds official, doesn't it?) But our guy back in Philly (one of these specialists actually goes to my church) gave me some meds first and I've been fine.

Just like that. So anyway...most of you know this particular misadventure already.. but for posterity. It was quite an ordeal--but I've been trying to process why God does stuff like this, you know? Minor irritations, really. Maybe it's to remind me that I can't do everything on my own--to ask for help more often.

But mainly I think it's just for me to trust God that he knows best. Even when things seem all out of sync.

Hostel environment

I like traveling. I even like staying in hostels. I just don't like living in one.

Last week, I had settled into bed with a book, and my roommate was upstairs in the shower.. and then the doorbell rang. Now, in this age of cell phones, an unexpected door bell ring is rare--espcially so after 11:30 at night. I figured someone needed to get a hold of one of us--cell phone died, car broken down--some kind of emergency.. so I ran to the door in my pjs.

I looked outside the window and there's this face, illuminated by tbe blue glowing light of a cell phone.. I jumped. I figured it must be a friend of my roommates that I had met the week before..so I cracked the door and asked "what are you doing here??" Umm.. Is she here? well.. yes--is she expecting you?? um.. yeah?..mm sounds fishy to me. So I tell him to wait there. Bolt the door and then go upstairs.

I knock on the bathroom door.
who is it?
Who do you think it is? your roommate. Hey.. um this guy is at the door.
What?
Are you expecting him?
No.
What do you want me to do?
I'll be down in a minute, you can let him in.
Are you sure??
yeah, he's all right

Are you sure??

So I let him in.. even gave him a glass of water. And then I went to bed, mumbling that people really should not come to visit after 11pm.

So early this week, I get a phone call from my roommate (we rarely actually see each other) SHe tells me that two girls from Uganda are going to be staying at the house--Arriving late that night. She assured me that she would be there to let them in. I asked if they were staying all week. I've been a little stressed out so I wanted to be sure I'd have a little space at some point this week. Oh no.. one or two days.

I saw no sign of them Tuesday morning.. or Tuesday evening. Course.. I didn't see my roommate either. I figured they must have had a change of plans or something. But on Wednesday evening I come home and there are African articles in my living room. Carved wood.. drums..so the girls from Africa are here. Great. But I still didn't see any sign of them, besdies the stuff that most obviously wasn't mine.

So about 9:30 that night, after a nap, I was watching a show on TV. And then a girl who I didn't know came down the stairs and sat on the other couch. She looked sleepy, so I just said, "Hey how are you doing?" and she mumbled fine.. and sat there for all of a minute or two and went back upstairs.

A minute later, I hear people on the stairs outside the door, and I figure it's my roommate.. then there's this loud knocking sound.. What the?? I open the door, it's her, plus the scary guy from the other night. She says she forgot her key. (you forgot your key with all these strangers staying at our house??) They make their way to the kitchen.. I finish my program and go to bed.

Well.. I was reading in bed. And eventually all goes silent and everyone is either gone or upstairs (I assume.) And then at 11:30 the doorbell goes off.. seriously?? I was ticked. I was thinking--if it's him again, SHE can let him in!! then there's a knock.. and the doorbell again. UGH! Can't she hear it upstairs? So I go to the door, ready to give the guy a piece of my mind.. but it's a girl.. who says, oh hi, sorry, were you asleep? and comes right in like she lives there.

I just go to bed. Maybe Im just having a bad day-- and I'm unnecessarily grouchy--but I don't like people coming in and out after 11, especially people i don't know.

This morning was a late morning. I finally rolled out of bed and got showered and dressed. I heard the TV on in the living room. So I figured I'd see one of the girls from last night. I get out there--nope. New girl. Never seen her before. I said "Hello, How are you?" and she said fine. "you're Holly?" Oh.. well yes. She introduced herself. I asked how long they were staying. Saturday morning.

I'm living in a hostel. My landlord should lower the rent--I can stay in a hostel for 16 bucks a night overseas.

Family and Friends

I've been thinking about family lately. I had dinner with a cousin of mine the other night and just thought how thankful I am that I get to know her as a person and a friend and then in addition be happy that she's related to me.

But with so much of my family, that is not the case. I love them because they're mine--my brother or my cousin or my aunt or uncle...but so very rarely because they are who they are--because they're sensitive, or artistic or insightful or witty--these things so often get overlooked in our family, when these very qualities would be sought for in friends.

And even more seriously, I find that I tend to overlook common courtesy when it comes to my family. How often do I neglect my family or ignore them or fail to stay in touch, when I would never dream of treating friends that way?

Ironically, when we do these things to family because we've taken them for granted for so long, we lose the chance to see those qualities that might make them friends as well.

This weekend, my brother is celebrating his marriage to his wife by holding the ceremony and reception that they didn't have when they got married five years ago. Our families--hers and ours, of course, will come together...but more poignantly, family from both sides of my own family will be in the same room--for the first time in almost 30 years. Those of you who have any experience with divorced parents can understand what a momentous occasion this will be.

I'm hoping to take time to talk to folks--those related to me and those not, so I can be blessed by the wonders that can be found in people---related by blood or by heart.

In the Dark

So, I know God has good purposes. He uses things in our lives to teach us new truths. He brings us to strange places to show us something we've never seen before so we can know him more. This is very good to know when things seem difficult.

But what if things keep happening. Friends keep moving far away, for instance--what is God trying to teach me? Coworkers are leaving work. Friends are leaving town. Is that stay here and hold the fort.. or get out now while the getting is good?

I'm a bit in the dark here. I'll let you know when the light dawns.

Brownie Violation

So I had a bit of a meltdown after a picnic this weekend. The reason? My brownies went missing. The scenario went like this.

We had our annual church picnic after church this Sunday. It's held at this beautiful state park in the area. Always a fun time of hanging out with the church family. You're usually asked to bring a salad or dessert. Since I don't ever think of these things ahead of time, I made my dessert right after church on Sunday. It was brownies (into which I threw m&ms) and they were just cool enough to pick up and throw into the car and be on my way. When I got there, I put them with the rest of the desserts (quite a haul, let me tell you) and went to await the opening of the food lines.

And so we ate. And toward the end of the eating, I noticed that no one had taken any of my brownies. Far from being insulted at this slight to my culinary abilities, I was excited. I could take a whole pan of brownies home. Have a few for dinner. Another couple for breakfast--this is great! Don't have to go grocery shopping for another couple days.

Later, a few friends and I decided to take a walk--and we ended up taking the hiking loop that covers 4 miles. It was a little longer than we expected, but it was good fun, and as we were approaching the end, I thought, great--at least we have a whole lot of brownies to eat when we return. We approached the picnic pavilion.

There stood a few ladies who very considerately had stuck around after everyone else had left because I had left my keys and purse on one of the tables. Thankful for their watchfulness I looked to the dessert table. And stopped. Where were my brownies? My big, uncut pan of chocolate? Um, there was an entire pan of brownies? Where did they go?

Oh, we gave them away.

You what???? "um.. who did you give them to?"

oh that family over there, as she points to a parking lot with quite a few remaining cars.

What family????? Who has my brownies--grrrrrr. "Um, they were in a pan--who did you give them to??"

Oh.. she names a family with a bunch of kids.

Great--can't take them back now--then I'd be a hoyden who steals treats from children. Um. Okay.

Meanwhile I'm telling myself that you really need to leave and get in your car because very shortly, you're going to throw a fit. And yell. And cry.. because mean people stole your brownies and gave them to children and you have to be a grown up and go without and you don't want to be seen doing this--so hurry up and get in your car.

I was mad. So I smiled, said see ya! and got in my car. My air fresheners were very nice not to laugh at me or make light of my distress, and I was able to vent my frustration loud and long.

And by some crazy coincidence, my mother also made brownies with m&ms for her church function and she was nice enough to share some of them with me the next day. So, no harm done.

But I think it was just that someone had stolen what was rightfully mine. I know it was greedy and petty to want them back--but sometimes, you really shouldn't meddle with other peoples' chocolate.

Big Heart

So I've been writing a travel blog because I've been traveling, but I had to note this on here.

My church lost a great man today. He was a big man--with a big heart--literally and figuratively. He sat behind me, and loved to sing worship music, with gusty amens, and hallelujahs. I remember that one of the first things I ever did at church, about 7 years ago, was attend a car clinic to learn how to properly take care of my car--and he was giving advice, since he was a mechanic by trade. I still remember him telling me the penny trick to see if my tires need air.

In the last few years I've learned to love his children and have watched in amazement how they've grown in grace and knowledge. He and their mother have done an amazing job raising them to love God and people and to have a passion for ministry.

Such a big personality is going to be sorely missed. My prayers are with his family, and I look forward to the day, when all knees bow in worship at the throne, singing "Worthy is the Lamb" and I hear his heartfelt agreement behind me once again.

Abba

Been thinking about how to love God, wondering if I do it well. I know Jesus said that if we love him we will feed his sheep and follow his commandments.

But I think it's more than that--because the Christian life is more than following the rules. More than doing what we should, more than serving others.

No, we love God when we trust Him. He's our Father. He's looking out for us. I think if we respond to our lives with more trust and less worry. More letting God do His thing and less telling Him how we want it done.

I usually get a better reaction from my parents when I treat them like a daughter should, as opposed to a casual guest. I'm more likely to benefit from the stores of their well stocked kitchen, some fresh baked cookies--when I come and hang out a while and sacrifice my time and help out if need be, rather then when I come in for a meal and leave.

God wants us to acknowledge him as Father, and then treat him as such. With respect and reverence, yes, but also with complete trust and dependence. We can say with complete confidence "Abba, Father..I hurt. And I need comforting." or "God, I trust you, but I don't understand. Help me understand."

I think that's how we need to love God. Not by just following the letter of the law, not by doing your best--but by trusting Him to be who He says He is. I'm not sure why this is such a revelation to me.

Bummed

As children, we're completely dependent on our parents. Dependent on our parents for our well being--physical...emotional...spiritual.

As an adult--I should be dependent on only myself...and God, and just let my parents be who they are, right?

Then why, even now, when my father disappoints me--when he says he's going to be somewhere and then is not--why do I still get upset?

Like I'm ten and looking out my front door for the millionth time since an hour before hand when he was supposed to be there...

I sort of wish I grew out of disappointment...or my dad grew out of not showing up.

Home with Casey

So on a lighter note.. I'm excited. I get to housesit this coming week (starting tomorrow) for a friend at work. She has the cutest house--and a wonder West Highland terrier named Casey. I think we'll get a long quite well.

Abundant need

So in my previous post, I was whining about wishing my life were different. And on some days that is so very true. But have you ever met someone who isn't like that? I mean, you meet them, and they tell you about their life and their pursuits and they love it. And you're sitting there almost wishing your life was like that. Wishing that you could say.. wow I love my life. And while you're thinking this, you wonder...mmm, maybe if my life resembled theirs, I would feel like that.

But what if, their lives, are filled with things you know to be destructive. Things you've been told your whole life to avoid. (namely, drugs, premartial sex and excessive alcohol) And because you want to follow the rules you've been given, to please God and family and expectations, you avoid these things.

And you fill your life with other good things, like books,and prayer and people and ministry and conversation and joy and laughter. And you know in theory, this is supposed to be it. This is supposed to be life abundant. Life so abundant that there's not room or need for those other destructive things.

And yet, life doesn't always feel abundant. And somedays, it seems the other people have it all figured out, and I'm left with mediocity and disgruntlement. Something has to be wrong with my focus. It's gotta be me. Life abundant is promised. Christ wants that for us. And He really does want me to stay away from self-destructive behavior.

I really must be looking in the wrong direction...

Love and God and mermaids

I don’t even know where to start to express where my head has been lately. Well quite literally, my head has been in a book… dreaming of dashing heroes and their gallantry. And when I’m not daydreaming about adventures that supposedly happened hundreds of years ago, I’m looking at my life and wishing it were different.

I have many blessings—please don’t misunderstand me. I have great friends and a great church and a great family. But my life doesn’t look the way I thought it would. In some ways it’s SO much better. I’ve learned to examine things more closely and the truths I’ve discovered about myself and about God have been so amazing and rewarding.

And I know it’s due to my reading material lately, but I’m wondering where my hero is? I’m not of a mind that says that I need a husband to be complete—to be happy. But I keep thinking that there is truly something missing. And I could say that it was because I wasn’t focusing on God enough and on my self too much and on my single status in particular…and that could be. But I also know that even when I’m communing closely with God, reading His Word and talking to him regularly, it is often to cry out and say—Lord? Why can’t I have what I long for? Why does it seem that everyone I know gets to have that—but not me?

And then there’s the fear, that what if God decides to give me a husband—and what if it’s not what I’ve looked for? What if it’s just something else that once you get it, it loses its charm?

It turns out that my mother was right—I have watched “A Little Mermaid” too many times. You know the song? The song that says.. I have all this stuff, but “who cares? No big deal… I want more!!!!” I only want what I can’t have. I can’t keep my eyes on all that He has blessed me with.

Changes

"Oh," she thought, "how horrible it is that people have to grow up -- and marry -- and CHANGE!"

Here I have to agree with my favorite quotable heroine, Anne Shirley. Changes in life really are hard to get used to. Whether it be getting married or having kids, or moving far away, people don't stay the same...LIFE doesn't stay the same, as much as we want it to some days.

Sometimes I wonder why God made it so that everything changes. But I think, as with a lot of the challenges he sends our way--it's for us to find stability in Him...the UNCHANGEABLE. So good to know there is something we can count on.

True Beauty

So if a beautiful flower grows up in the middle of the woods and no one ever sees it, is it beautiful? I've heard it said that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder---but what if it is never beheld? If no one really appreciates something for what it is, does it lose its value?

So many of the quandries of life come down to a matter of definitions. What makes something beautiful? What makes something valuable? Is it simply if somone values it? Or finds it so? I had a professor once say that beauty is NOT in the eyes of the beholder--it is truth and the evidence of God that makes something beautiful. That is why you can find a story beautiful, or a poem--because it speaks to our hearts of truth and goodness, even though it's not visible for us to see.

If that's true, then beauty is never wasted--any kind of beauty. Because beauty that doesn't show evidence of God, isn't true beauty at all, and that which is true, is all for Him anyway. And God has never needed man to acknowledge His glory to be glorious.

Puff and powder

So, in my convalascence, getting back to being well rested and being able to eat solid foods, I visited my local library. I found some delightful stories that I've read before, though have forgotten the details of--if you like adventure and romance and fun and history, read something by Patricia Veryan. You won't be sorry.

Anyway, the books that I've been reading are set around 1746, when everyone powdered their hair. Such a weird practice! I mean, why would anyone purposely make their hair look white? I mean, there are already too many hairs of that particular shade on my own head for my liking--why would I want to make them all that color? And we could just chalk (no pun intended) it up to crazy English people, but these same kinds of people (though a generation removed perhaps) came to found our own country. They wore wigs (usually cropping their own hair to do so) and powdered their hair (with some distressing health effects eventually) and thought they looked stylish... I don't get it.

Back from the depths of busyness

So, my work schedule is finally a lot less crowded and I have a little room to breathe, and blog. Missed an entire month. If it makes it any better, I barely noticed the month of May. It was here, I was crazy and then it was gone and I was still crazy. Now that June is half over, I'm sane again, though I lost all my wisdom teeth.. so maybe wisdom leads to craziness..mmm, seems something to think about before I despair over my usual lack of sense.

Birthday Reflections

Ok. So I have to come to grips with something. I turn 30 today. Yes, that's right. Goodbye twenties. I'm actually 30. It's weird.

It's not that I don't want to be thirty--I mean, the alternative to having another birthday is not having one and that would be bad. I'm glad to have a birthday. And I'm pretty confidant that I look younger than my age. People ask me regularly where I go to school and I love telling them that I've been out of school for eight years.

It's just...I thought my life would look different than this at thirty, that I would have more figured out. That being a grown up would be easier by now. The older I get, the more I'm convinced that everyone is just faking it. Just acting like they know what they're doing. I know the people I looked up to when I was a teenager were in their twenties and thirties and I was pretty sure they had life figured out. They were adults and knew how to do things and get things done.

But if they were anything like me now--they didn't have a clue, really. They just got good at looking as if they did.

Maybe that's what being grown up is all about. Knowing you're clueless, but being good at acting as if you weren't. Accepting the fact that you'll never really have it all together, but knowing that Someone will catch you when you fall and bring people into your life that are better at pretending than you are.

So here's to being 30. I can handle this. Honest.

Irish Courage

I'm feeling a bit poetic lately, I suppose. Here's another bit of pleading, this time found on the breastplate of St. Patrick:

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

Gives us no excuses for cowardice.

Ah, to get away

Found this poem today.

Thanks be to God the world is wide;
I'm going far from home.
For I forgot in Camelot
The man I loved in Rome.
And I forgot in Kensington
The man I loved in Kew.
And there must be a place for me
To think no more of you.

- by Edna St. Vincent Millay


Somedays it's hard to escape our own thoughts.

The Last Penguin

So once there was this group of penguins. They hung out doing penguiny things--penguin parties, dance lessons, penguin feasts--they had loads of fun.

After awhile, the penguins start pairing off. One pair of penguins decides to stay together for always, then another pair. There was one pair that thought they might want to make a way together, but soon realized that it wouldn't work--- though most of them found each other easily and happily. But this merry band continued to pair off until there were a good number of pairs, all embarking on their journey as mates for life. But there was one left. She loved all her penguin friends--loved what each pair taught her. She also looked forward to the day that would bring her to her mate for life, and was patiently waiting until that day came. She watched as two by two, her friends left to make a life with each other.

She did have days when she was lonely, wondering if she would ever feel like she fit in. But she knew there were other penguins, and hopefully one for her some day. She also knew that her merry little band would always love her and include her in all their penguin shindigs, not to mention let her be auntie to any of the little penguins that might come along.

Forgiveness among Friends

So I've heard it said that forgiveness is the key to a close relationship with God. When we forgive we humble ourselves, let go of our pride and resentments and allow for the grace of God to work. I've also heard it said that holding on to resentments hurts you more than it hurts the person you are mad at.

When we chose to forgive, we chose to give our brokenness to God to fix. We forgive whoever hurt us and give our hurt to the only One capable of fixing it.

I've heard all this before. But this week? God has been showing me that His word is true. He will restore things that are broken, and work in others' hearts even as He's working in mine.

Truth about Teeth

So it's so unfair. My whole life, my teeth have been slow. Not in chewing, mind you--but in coming in. I was almost three and I had four teeth in my head. (two of which my brother accidentally knocked out with his big head) I got my twelve-year-old molars at 16--it's been a weird ride.

And now, when I'm almost 30, I'm finally becoming wise.. I'm getting my wisdom teeth in. Which most college students get out! And now I feel like a baby, because my gums are sore, and my other teeth keep sitting on the swollen part and I have this dull throb in the side of my jaw. And I'll probably have to go to the dentist, one of my favorite places to go.. and then possibly to the oral surgeon, which I'm sure will be even more fun.

Urgh.. No great truth to be learned here. Just urghing right now.

Road Trip Reflections

This past weekend, I spent many hours in the car. Twenty four hours to be exact--12 hours on Friday--and then 12 hours again on Sunday. Well worth the trip, I got to see a dear friend of mine and her husband and their lovely little house, and the tiny town they live in and their wonder dog, Cortez.

My comrade in traveling was a patient, optimistic soul that I know from our days of working at a bookstore together. I told her stories about my life for hours. Adventures in college, and with boys and with my family; opinions about movies and books and television shows--who knew I was such an interesting person? Course, she might tell you different.

Anyway, what I realized was that there's really nothing like having that long to talk and laugh about life to really refresh your soul and help you to appreciate what is true and good---

Winter weather exists (a lit roadway sign told us of this in case there was any doubt)
London and Richmond are, in fact towns in Indiana and not England.
And when you can't see straight from laughing so hard--it may be time to pull over.

In a Little While

Once, a few years ago, I was having a bad week. I had lost my job and the guy I was dating all in a matter of three days. A dear friend from college sent me an email that week and all it said was--

We're just here to learn to Love Him, we'll be home in just a little while.

And yes, it is a quote from an Amy Grant song, but it's just.. so comforting. Today I woke up feeling homesick. And maybe the home I was picturing in my head was one with a husband and family--but what I'm really longing for is my real home--where friends won't ever leave, and the longing that follows us all of our days here.. will finally be answered.

My Foggy Funk

So I've felt myself in a funk for a few days. I'm getting to work--but not being really effective there and then when I get home.. it's me and my couch and whatever is on TV. No...that's not true--yesterday I spent some time trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together--and I got one whole side of the border done.. and then ended up sliding part of it into the box with all the other pieces so I just decided to scrap the whole thing..

But you see what I mean? Just, mindless, ineffective activity--and I just, so don't want to get out of bed--or go to bed for that matter (last night I put this off by watching My Fair Lady on TCM)I just...I just want to veg out for a few days and not have it matter. I want to turn off my brain that says "you should be doing something more constructive"...or "stuck at home alone? how sad" or "such a lazy bum"---I feel like I've been running marathons for weeks, and now I'm wondering why I'm tired, and a bit spacey. Suddenly I'm existing in a pea soup fog.. so oppressive that I can hardly move, and so thick, my next step is questionable.

But I was thinking this morning (which is progress, I haven't been doing much of that) that, the critics are in my own head. And if I want to drown them out--I need to either turn the TV up louder and sink deeper into my covers---or get up and get busy so I'm too engrossed to listen. I've tried both of these methods, and they work--for a while.

Or, better yet--I can listen to another Voice, until His is all I hear, and in that place will I find both strength to do as I should and rest when the road gets long.

Maybe it's just me

I've just decided that I'm weird. Not that I really had any delusions to the contrary before this, but it's just become more clear in recent days.

I'm almost thirty years old, single--and I love my church. It's old, and traditional in many respects. It only has about 400 people. It has no celebrities visit, and doesn't have a television ministry. It's been in the same location for a hundred years. It still has Sunday school classes, a stone building, pews and stain-glass windows. They still have a choir, and an organ and on occasion they recite the Apostles' Creed. The pastor wears a tie and lives within walking distance of the church. It has members from generations when the church was the heart of the community and to them, it still is.

And though I see people my age and younger finding church homes in less traditional settings, whether that be house churches, or bigger churches with hipper music and lights and sound and multi-media events, I still feel more at home at Grace. Maybe I do have an old soul.. maybe I'm just an old-fashioned girl who grew up with hymns and likes to hear them every once and awhle. Maybe I am weird.

But maybe I enjoy being where the grace of God has a reputation of working and changing peoples' lives. Maybe I want to be a part of something that has a rich heritage of impact and care of the community. Maybe I want to have a place in the rest of its history, and be a part of this legacy of Grace.

Missing Friend

So I had this friend in college. One of the ten or so I made my freshman year that I swore would be my friends for life. We kept in touch for a few years after college. Even went to see him every now and then when he was working in my state. Lost track of him a few years ago when he headed for law school.

I'm not sure what he's doing now but I think of him often. I remember of how he sent secret flowers to a friend of ours he was crazy about; I remember how he used to meet me for breakfast all tired after working a night shift; I remember the elaborate date he staged for a two month anniversary with his girlfriend; I remember the time we went to see Handel's Messiah performed at a little church in the middle of nowhere Virginia and there was an old man in the row in front of us wearing plaid, flannel pants and how we tried unsuccessfully not to laugh out loud; I remember learning to love old hymns with him and praying with him; worrying with him and laughing with him.

I'm praying for you Michael, wherever you might be.

Unstoppable clutter

Growing up, my room was always a mess. Well, when my parents put me in charge of my laundry was when it got out of control. Piles of clothes, papers, books--cleaning out my clutter was always a monumental task.

As I've gotten older--I've gotten better. I do realize some of this improvement is due to the fact that since I moved out of my parents house, many of my belongings have stayed in storage boxes. But I do try to keep my living space--well liveable.

Since my last move, my bedroom is tiny. You neglect laundry in my room and suddenly you can't walk...so I've been pretty good for the last couple months. But then there was this space. It was actually my laundry basket. It was sitting empty, since I was using a hamper on the other side of the room. And it became a covenient depository for some papers I took out of something. And then the miscellaneous clothes that are not exactly dirty or clean got put on top. And since this pile of clutter was contained, I wasn't too worried..

And then it was laundry day, and I needed that basket, so I dumped the contents on the floor. And as I did so I knocked the stack of note cards off my bookshelf, and the stack of sweaters that stood orderly in their corner and now the nice neat pile of "to be gone through" stuff that was nicely contained.. is creeping around the end of my bed and encroaching on my already diminutive space.

And as I was kicking the unwanted items under the bed and out of my way this morning in my rush to get ready for work, I realized that my brain is often like my cluttered bedroom. I let one thought creep in. A not so good, self-pitying thought. And then I think of the events that caused that self pity to arise. And then the books I read and movies I watch spill on over, and before I know it,I'm knee deep in feeling blue and heart broken.

Clutter is a bad thing. In my little room..and in my little brain.

Hope and Strength

I'm so glad God invented music. It's raining today. Completely gray, drenching, miserable rain. And I'm not seeing rainbows at all, as much as I need to be looking.

But a friend sent me the lyrics of this praise song. It's good that we can rely on the hope and strength of Someone who is always near...especially when we can't find hope or strength of our own.

You are my strength
Strength like no other
Strength like no other
Reaches to me

You are my hope
Hope like no other
Hope like no other
Reaches to me

In the fullness of Your grace
In the power of Your Name
You lift me up
You lift me up

Unfailing love
Stronger than mountains
Deeper than oceans
Reaches to me

Your love O Lord
Reaches to the heavens
Your faithfulness
Reaches to the skies

Stop the World I want to get off

Some days I just wish I could stop the world. Don't get me wrong--I love life and everything. I just, I just want a break. I don't want to go to work, and I don't want do the dishes and I don't want to take the trash out. I just want to sleep. And sulk if I want to. And have choice words with God if I feel like it. And just take some time to get my head around the reality that is my life. I feel like my world changes so often and so fast that I spend my whole existence adjusting to the new state of things, only to have it change again just as I'm catching my breath.

The wind is whipping everything up today. Leaves, trash--I actually saw a beach ball blowing down a city street. The weather today is comforting to me--it seems to me that God is voicing my irritation with everything and that He's still there...and I know He only stirs up my life so I hold onto Him --our shelter in the storm. But sheesh... I'd run for cover in a light drizzle, wouldn't I? No need for a deluge.

Point of View

I have a very distinct memory from when I was a child. I remember when I visited my dad, and he'd pick me up.. to show me something or hug me or whatever.. and I remember looking out over his living room and marveling of all he could see from there. The place looked so big! And much, much different than my usual vantage point, closer to the floor.

Now that I'm grown up, my eye level is almost the same height as my dad's. And I haven't gained much insight over the change of perspective...

But I was thinking about it the other day. And I thought, that I still can't see from my Heavenly Father's vantage point. He sees the whole picture and I can only see my little piece.. and until I'm with Him, I'm not going to see all He sees.

So I suppose the thing to do is to trust Him. That He sees more than I do...and that He'll reveal all in His time.

Saved from Vanity

Yesterday, my supervisor made a silly suggestion. All three of us in the department own Aran sweaters. (you know those lovely, wooly beautiful sweaters from Ireland?) And we wear them on occasion. So he suggested that we all wear ours today for our office meeting.

Now as I was getting dressed this morning, I knew the chances of him going through with this were nil.. but I'd feel bad if he did actually make the effort to wear his and my other colleague did, and I didn't, so I decided to put it on.. except that it really only goes well with jeans. (my sweater happens to be navy and green) but I'm not really supposed to wear jeans to the office and with the meeting the boss would be around..so what's a girl to do?

Ah, this girl had the brilliant idea to wear a jean skirt! The only problem with that is that I wear my incredibly cute, not so comfortable boots with that skirt, and I do walk several blocks from the bus station to work. I debated this problem in my head for a little while, and decided to risk the health of my feet and wear the skirt and boots anyway. I might be uncomfortable, but wouldn't I look cute and very Irish?

So on went the boots..complete with tights.. and I was looking quite cute, warm and still in the dress code of the office.. and I was even just in time to catch the early bus, or so I thought. And as I walked out my door, I looked down to the street...only to watch the early bus roll on by. sigh.

So, I don't live very far from work, and I do own a car. But parking is a bit of a hassle and it's just easier to take the bus. But the next bus wasn't for another half hour or so. I debated.. drive, and be hassled with the parking...or wait and take the bus. I decided to wait. Took out my "on the bus" novel to read, and my "on the run" breakfast of peanut butter crackers, sat on my couch and waited.

And then it was time to bundle up again and catch that bus. Off I go, I even found a closer bus stop (only a block and half instead of two) And I cheerfully stood there, even as my feet in my extra cute boots were freezing. I prayed while I waited. And waited some more. I said hello to the passers by and I waited some more. Still that bus wasn't coming.

Twenty minutes after the bus was supposed to arrive, I decide to keep from being really really late, I'd drive. Which I could have done an hour beforehand, if I had only known the bus wasn't coming!!

And all I can think is that God appreciated my efforts to conform to the dress code, and didn't want me to pay for my vanity by having to walk the long city blocks in my cute boots. So I suppose I should be thankful. Even more thankfully, I got one of the only good parking spots to be had.

And they say God hasn't the time to take care of our small concerns!! I beg to differ.

Truth in Song

I sang in our Christmas choir concert this past December. We sang some great carols, but my favorites by far were the pieces we sang from Handel's "Messiah". A friend recently reminded me to think of the lyrics we sang when I can't possibly see how God is going to bring about His glory in a particular situation..

AND THE GLORY, THE GLORY OF THE LORD WILL BE REVEALED
AND ALL FLESH SHALL SEE IT TOGETHER
FOR THE MOUTH OF THE LORD HAS SPOKEN IT.

He has spoken it.. so it really is already done. His glory will be revealed. And we're going to see it. Count on it!

Broken Things

Before his message this week, my pastor had my friend Claire sing a song. It was to remind us that God can handle our past--He makes old things new. I cried, as I listened to these words because my heart has felt like this...

Broken Things

You can have my heart
Though it isn't new
It's been used and broken
And only comes in blue
It's been down a long road
And it got dirty on the way
If I give it to you will you make it clean
And wash the shame away

You can have my heart
If you don't mind broken things
You can have my life if you don't mind these tears
Well I heard that you make old things new
So I give these pieces all to you
If you want it you can have my heart

So beyond repair
Nothing I could do
I tried to fix it myself
But it was only worse when I got through
Then you walked into my darkness
And you speak words so sweet
And you hold me like a child
Till my frozen tears fall at your feet

You can have my heart
If you don't mind broken things
You can have my life if you don't mind these tears
Well I heard that you make old things new
So I give these pieces all to you
If you want it you can have my heart

BMG Songs Inc/Verdugo Music/Word Music(ASCAP)

May we learn to bring our broken hearts to the only one who can mend them.

(for the podcast of the sermon and the song go to www.gracechapelpa.org, click on Podcast, and Broken Things from 1/20/08)

Impact of a Life

So, in my meanderings in history lately, I've been thinking about the impact of people--in a church, on a community or on a culture even.

Everyone has seen "It's a Wonderful Life", right? Where, George Bailey who thinks he has this small life in a small town realizes the impact he had by seeing the world as if he had never been born. It's full of good sappy lines, and it's Jimmy Stewart at his best, and if it isn't part of your holiday traditions yet, it should be.

Anyway, if the premise can be believed--that we have more impact than we think...then what are we doing with that potential? Are we impacting our world for good or ill?

I was also thinking of the fact that it's "Sanctity of Life Month" and we're nearing the anniversary of the passing of Roe vs. Wade. And I think.. what about all the potential that has been stifled since--the fact that half a generation has not been given the chance to live at all.. what kind of impact for good could they have had?

And I don't want to dwell on sad statistics, or make any kind of statement on hot issues. I just want to challenge those of us who have life. Those of us who have the resources to impact our world...

What are we doing with it? How will the world be different because we lived?

Thwarted

So, I was blessed with a laptop over Christmas. It's a pretty little gadget, and if it allows me to get online in multiple places, it will make working from home a possibility...so I'm thankful. But the thinkpad is making me crazy.. the screen is so big and pretty, it reflects the whole room and paying for wireless is bleeding my bank account..especially at Starbucks where it's 10 bucks a day! unless you want to pay for a plan..and try filling in those forms with usernames and passwords with a thinkpad that likes to skip all over the screen..took me ten minutes to sign on today..

Okay.. I've vented. It is lovely sitting in a starbucks to check ones email before they head off to work..I'm out of the office today on a campus..so it may come in handy there too.
So.. even so.. I love it.

Furtile Field

So not to harp on the history of my church some more--but I found out today that the guy who was the catalyst in starting the original Sunday School that became my church worked for the American Sunday School Union--which was sort of like a mission agency to reach all parts of America with educational materials and places to study them. They started in Philadelphia, and worked out from there--way back in 1817--starting Sunday schools and printing cirriculum to be taught in them. They were key in the spiritual recovery of our nation after the Civil War.

They had different campaigns to reach the whole country. But the funny thing is about the guy from Willow Grove, who ended up in Havertown--is that he was back at the beginning--back where the thing started, probably ten miles outside of Philly--almost a hundred years later. And they needed him. That stretch of countryside had no Sunday school to speak of.. so they formed one under his direction--and a church was organized 5 years later that still exists today.

So I suppose we should never think that a ministry is done--or an area covered when we're trying to reach the nations. We should follow God's leading, no matter how much we may want an exciting assignment. The people in our general vacinity need God's love just as much as the ones on the other side of the world--and vice versa. God loves everyone, and He leads in so many different ways.

And when we think about our roles in something keep in mind this transcription from the walls of Memorial Church at Stanford University---

The highest service may be prepared for and done in the humblest surroundings. In silence, in waiting, in obscure, unnoticed offices, in years of uneventful, unrecorded duties, the Son of God grew and waxed strong.

History of Grace

I'm up to my elbows in the history of my local church. We're celebrating our 100th anniversary this year, and I love the story of how it formed. So many ways that God has used this church on the corner to impact the community that formed around it.

I'm trying to track down the turning point though. For a while it was this vital place--growing, instituting new outreaches, planting churches, having training programs and conferences...and then that stopped, because it couldn't have possibly kept the same growth and still be the size it is now.. so I'm wondering what happened..
I mean, it's growing again, we're coming back as it were, but what happened in the mean time?

And how much of what they did back then, could we do now? And what was it that was needed? organization? leadership? Is it just a different time? Different generation?

Fascinating stuff. To me, anyway. For those of you that it isn't.. you needn't read.

Potential of Paper

You know how some people can't be trusted in a shoe store? or a store with lots of handbags? Well, one of my weaknesses is stationery stores (I also have an odd love of hardware stores, but that is a whole other story) I'm always buying blank books and notebooks. Blank paper just calls out to me.

But just think--all the great novels of the world that have ever been written--they all started with a bunch of blank paper! The latent potential of the unwritten page just beckons to me. One of the saddest things about not being in school anymore is the lack of new school supplies.

But it's a new year--with no mistakes in it yet, as Anne would say. A whole year of blank paper to write my story onto. Will it be a comedy this year? Or dare I wish, a romance? Or an enlightening tale of God's provision?

Well, I hope it's all of these things. The possibilities are endless..and I'm excited.

Auld Lang Syne

Such a funny old fashioned phrase, and one we only think about this time of year..course most of us don't even know the words to the song as I realized last night, watching some fireworks with friends, cheering in the new year. But from what I have heard of the song, it's a time of looking back and being thankful for old friends.

And friends are really what we're here for, you know? Service, work, life in general--it's cliche to say it, but they don't mean a thing if you don't have people to share them with--people to laugh with you and at you when you need it, to encourage you and to tell you that everything is going to be okay, God is still in control and life is still is good even when we can't see how its so.

And if you have people like that in your life, then years like the one I just had.. they don't seem bad. They seem.. stretching, and surprising and blessed.

Happy New Year friends.. auld and new.