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