I am, by nature, a planner, a critical thinker, and a big fan of introspection.
I think it's vital to our growth as human beings to pause and take an honest evaluation of where we're at, what it is we're aiming for, and by what methods we live out our daily lives. Today as I watched a breathtaking sunrise, the house was caked in flour (it's a long story) and I was soaking in the giggles of a child. I couldn't help but think maybe some areas of my life are deficient. For instance, my more-frequent-than-I'd-like-to-admit- lack of thankfulness.
I woke up with a beating heart this morning, and sometimes, I forget the sheer triumph it is to be alive. Our bodies are these intricately formed miracles that function without conscious effort or awareness. If we, if I, stopped to consider the majesty of that, our perspectives would undoubtedly improve.
Life is full of trials, but yet it overflows with victories, beauty, and raw wonder. I think when we set our hearts on living appreciative, the small wins will become more visible and the big ones all the more glorious.
I am thankful. I'm thankful to be alive. I'm thankful to be loved. I'm thankful to have eyes that behold the beauty of creation. I'm thankful to have ears that can distinguish laughter. I'm thankful to have arms full of nieces and nephews and siblings and god-children that are happy, healthy, and loved. I'm thankful to live in a country that, despite it's failures, allows me the freedom to be and live and go and do. I'm thankful for solid, unadulterated friendships, for truth, for fun, and for flowers. I'm thankful for macaroni and cheese and chocolate soy milk at 2am. I'm thankful for Jesus. I'm thankful for every road trip, airplane flight, and taxi ride I've ever been afforded. I'm thankful for all life's other little pleasures, and dare I say it, I'm thankful for life's displeasures, too, because they've made the "other side" all the more precious.
And with that, I dare you to nourish a grateful heart today. The end.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Friday, October 17, 2014
Be careful, momma mouth, what you say!
Be careful, little mouth, what you say!
Oh be careful, little mouth, what you say!
There's a Father up above,
And He's looking down in love.
So be careful, little mouth, what you say!
I can't be the only one who sings this song. I don't even remember where I first learned it, or who sang it to me, but it's one of those baby lullabies that's permanently engraved in my brain, and every niece, nephew, and god child I have has to suffer through my less-than-gracious singing abilities while I spit out these words, because "Good night, baby," finally got old. Enough of my story.
I'm flabbergasted.
I just left preschool time at the gym, which is dramatic every other Friday all in its own, but this time, momma was the culprit. She outdid every preschooler in the place, put together, and then multiplied. Literally, it was that bad.
I watched the whole scenario unfold. Kid 1 jumps into the foam pit, followed by Kid 2 who gets a little too anxious and lunges into the foam pit with glee, hitting Kid 1 in the mouth and busting open a lip. Kid 1 screams, Kid 2 looks puzzled, and then the world fell apart. Not the kids' world, mind you, but momma's world. Yes, she was panicked. No, nobody wants to see their toddler in pain. Yes, blood makes everything seem more serious. I get all of that, but her reaction...? Inappropriate, to say the least.
She physically confronts the kid, yanks her bleeding child from the pit, and marches off yelling, "You stupid kid!" Mom 1 then shoves Kid 1 into Mom 2 and says, "Control your monster! He hurt my angel!"
Okay, okay, back up. We're gathered in a small space crammed full of feisty youngsters who are experiencing sensory overload at it's finest. You have to be ready for anything momma, including a busted lip.
Anybody who's spent more than sixty seconds with a child between the stages of crawling and graduating high school knows accidents happen. It's almost like the little aliens are born accident-prone. Why do you think there's fifteen different cartoon band aids lining the Walmart isle? Because kids get hurt...all the time.
Kid 1 has a busted lip, and within a week or so, it will heal. Kid 2 just got publicly humiliated, disgraced, and bullied by someone ten times his age. I don't know how long that wound will take to scab over, much less heal. Death and life are in the power of the tongue; a concept much more hefty to grasp than the manners or patience of a four-year-old child.
Wake up, moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, and caretakers of the world! We have to get a hold on our words, actions, and reactions. Those little eyes and ears are watching us, ever so closely, and they will repeat everything we teach them. Let's be gentle in our correction, kind in our chaos, and never ever demeaning or cruel in our words. After all, this big bad world is mean enough, and I think we ought not raise more bullies, yeah?
Oh be careful, little mouth, what you say!
There's a Father up above,
And He's looking down in love.
So be careful, little mouth, what you say!
I can't be the only one who sings this song. I don't even remember where I first learned it, or who sang it to me, but it's one of those baby lullabies that's permanently engraved in my brain, and every niece, nephew, and god child I have has to suffer through my less-than-gracious singing abilities while I spit out these words, because "Good night, baby," finally got old. Enough of my story.
I'm flabbergasted.
I just left preschool time at the gym, which is dramatic every other Friday all in its own, but this time, momma was the culprit. She outdid every preschooler in the place, put together, and then multiplied. Literally, it was that bad.
I watched the whole scenario unfold. Kid 1 jumps into the foam pit, followed by Kid 2 who gets a little too anxious and lunges into the foam pit with glee, hitting Kid 1 in the mouth and busting open a lip. Kid 1 screams, Kid 2 looks puzzled, and then the world fell apart. Not the kids' world, mind you, but momma's world. Yes, she was panicked. No, nobody wants to see their toddler in pain. Yes, blood makes everything seem more serious. I get all of that, but her reaction...? Inappropriate, to say the least.
She physically confronts the kid, yanks her bleeding child from the pit, and marches off yelling, "You stupid kid!" Mom 1 then shoves Kid 1 into Mom 2 and says, "Control your monster! He hurt my angel!"
Okay, okay, back up. We're gathered in a small space crammed full of feisty youngsters who are experiencing sensory overload at it's finest. You have to be ready for anything momma, including a busted lip.
Anybody who's spent more than sixty seconds with a child between the stages of crawling and graduating high school knows accidents happen. It's almost like the little aliens are born accident-prone. Why do you think there's fifteen different cartoon band aids lining the Walmart isle? Because kids get hurt...all the time.
Kid 1 has a busted lip, and within a week or so, it will heal. Kid 2 just got publicly humiliated, disgraced, and bullied by someone ten times his age. I don't know how long that wound will take to scab over, much less heal. Death and life are in the power of the tongue; a concept much more hefty to grasp than the manners or patience of a four-year-old child.
Wake up, moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, and caretakers of the world! We have to get a hold on our words, actions, and reactions. Those little eyes and ears are watching us, ever so closely, and they will repeat everything we teach them. Let's be gentle in our correction, kind in our chaos, and never ever demeaning or cruel in our words. After all, this big bad world is mean enough, and I think we ought not raise more bullies, yeah?
Sunday, October 12, 2014
The great wager
I feel compelled to start this post off with a truthful disclosure: I have absolutely no idea where or how this writing is going to end. My heart is full, but my words are tangled in the spider web of complication. I think they've termed this syndrome "writer's block," but I can't make a definite diagnosis. Anyways, consider yourselves warned.
If I had to adequately describe the last twelve months of my life in ten seconds or less, I would tell you that it was like riding the world's tallest roller coaster backwards and blindfolded after eating cheese tots and winning the lottery, to which you might be compelled to ask, "What does that mean?", and I would further clarify by telling you I have no idea. Our exchange would be among the top ten most sincere conversations I've ever had.
Life is weird (or, at least mine is, anyways). My cousin and I were recently discussing our lives and all the triumphs, struggles, complications, and victories in our journeys. Our ramblings escorted me all the way down memory lane, and I can safely say that life is surprising. Believe it or not, I think that's a good thing.
I am so thankful. In fact, I don't even like the word thankful because it feels overused, cheap, and devoid of value, but Webster's pocket dictionary only offered me blissful, chuffed, delighted, gratified, happy, joyful, joyous, pleased, satisfied, glad, or tickled as synonyms, and none of those fit. I am hugely, extraordinarily, and exceedingly grateful for the daily opportunity to breathe fresh air.
The places God has brought me to and through and around and under are crazy good, to the point of being unbelievable. The paths I've meandered on and down and around are breath-taking and maybe a bit frightening. The sights and sounds and smells along the way are almost too much for human language. This whole being alive thing, it's just really, really, really marvelous. Sometimes I'm afraid we take that for granted.
I don't know what's next. My perfectly laid out, neatly ordered, and firmly established life plan gets jumbled out of order unexpectedly at approximately hourly intervals, so I've pretty much given up on the whole trying to figure out what's behind the next curve thing. Maybe I'll visit the moon, or Paris, or my next door neighbor (that last one is highly unlikely). Or maybe I'll take an early retirement and stay home and write novels while drinking excessive amounts of chocolate soy milk and eating honey nut cheerios with my puppies. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll run an orphan village and turn out like the little old lady who lived in a shoe, except I won't be whipping kids before bed, and we won't actually live in a worn out shoe. The truth is, I don't know about tomorrow, or next week, or a year from now, but I'm all-in. I want to love large and lead people to Jesus. It's really just that simple.
If I had to adequately describe the last twelve months of my life in ten seconds or less, I would tell you that it was like riding the world's tallest roller coaster backwards and blindfolded after eating cheese tots and winning the lottery, to which you might be compelled to ask, "What does that mean?", and I would further clarify by telling you I have no idea. Our exchange would be among the top ten most sincere conversations I've ever had.
Life is weird (or, at least mine is, anyways). My cousin and I were recently discussing our lives and all the triumphs, struggles, complications, and victories in our journeys. Our ramblings escorted me all the way down memory lane, and I can safely say that life is surprising. Believe it or not, I think that's a good thing.
I am so thankful. In fact, I don't even like the word thankful because it feels overused, cheap, and devoid of value, but Webster's pocket dictionary only offered me blissful, chuffed, delighted, gratified, happy, joyful, joyous, pleased, satisfied, glad, or tickled as synonyms, and none of those fit. I am hugely, extraordinarily, and exceedingly grateful for the daily opportunity to breathe fresh air.
The places God has brought me to and through and around and under are crazy good, to the point of being unbelievable. The paths I've meandered on and down and around are breath-taking and maybe a bit frightening. The sights and sounds and smells along the way are almost too much for human language. This whole being alive thing, it's just really, really, really marvelous. Sometimes I'm afraid we take that for granted.
I don't know what's next. My perfectly laid out, neatly ordered, and firmly established life plan gets jumbled out of order unexpectedly at approximately hourly intervals, so I've pretty much given up on the whole trying to figure out what's behind the next curve thing. Maybe I'll visit the moon, or Paris, or my next door neighbor (that last one is highly unlikely). Or maybe I'll take an early retirement and stay home and write novels while drinking excessive amounts of chocolate soy milk and eating honey nut cheerios with my puppies. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll run an orphan village and turn out like the little old lady who lived in a shoe, except I won't be whipping kids before bed, and we won't actually live in a worn out shoe. The truth is, I don't know about tomorrow, or next week, or a year from now, but I'm all-in. I want to love large and lead people to Jesus. It's really just that simple.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Finish with the fear!
I want to paint a picture for you:
Twenty-five year old female stands five-foot-six and tackles the world every day in dress slacks and a pair of four-inch heels. There's the planes, trains, taxis, and rented automobiles, the always pesky airport security, lost luggage, and a team full of people to coordinate. Lest we forget e-mail, snail mail, text message, and a habitually low phone battery. It would appear as though nothing can slow slow her down, right?
Except that spider, who is the size of a dime and her own backyard after dark, because after all, an ax-murderer could be lurking in the shadows and intend to inflict a slow and unusual death upon her as she innocently disposes of the trash on Monday evenings. Legitimate concern, right?
Fear is an interesting concept. It plagues immeasurable amounts of people, but often has no validity. One of my very good friends uses an acronym to describe fear: false evidence appearing real. I've often seen self-help slogans proclaiming, "Fear is a liar," and "On the other side of fear lies freedom." I don't disagree, but with all of these adamant declarations and soothing techniques aimed at vanquishing fear, why are so many people still afraid?
Let's go back to that newly painted picture of yours truly. Admittedly, I'm afraid of spiders and ax-murderers...and drowning, and needles, and snakes, and strangers, and awkward social situations, and dark quiet places, but why? Do fears have any reasonable function or foundation?
For grins and giggles, let's use the words, "function" and "purpose" interchangeably for a moment. Does fear have a purpose? When I posed this question to myself, I automatically thought of the body's fight-or-flight mechanism. In this process, our mind perceives a threat and our body automatically responds by releasing stress hormones, increasing our heart rate, and speeding up our breathing. Essentially, our body prepares for battle. Fear could, and probably would, illicit this fight-or-flight response, which would certainly be beneficial in the event of an actual threat; however, the brain can actually respond with the fight-or-flight process without actually being in any sort of danger. Basically, what we perceive as danger isn't always so.
Let's move on to phase two of this equation. Does fear have any real foundation? If Little Suzie or Cousin Joe had been mauled by a bear, was laid up in a hospital for weeks, and escaped with only one leg and a few fingers, chances are, most people would agree they would have a reasonable cause (or foundation) for fear and intimidation. I would agree, but that doesn't free Suzie or Joe from any of the crippling effects of fear. The bear may have stolen their legs and fingers, but fear could potentially steal a lifetime of adventures from them if they were too afraid to step outside again.
Also important to consider is that fear (or lack thereof) has no bearing on actual danger. Earlier, we established our ability to distinguish between actual and assumed threats is sometimes skewed. On the contrary, consider those bozos on television that play with boa constrictors and wear rattle snakes around their necks like costume jewelry. They claim they're not afraid, and they certainly don't act the part, but that doesn't make handling deadly snakes any less dangerous. Their perception is skewed.
Fear distorts perception and reality. Fear limits, confines, suffocates, and destroys. Why do we continue to allow ourselves to be help captive by such fantasies? Isn't true that we're often confined by the walls we build ourselves?
"Fear isn't a fantasy, Lindsay. You have no idea how scary ________ (fill in the blank) is!" You're right, maybe I don't, but I do very well know what it is to be totally afraid, and I'm saying there is a better alternative. The bottom line is life is scary. Sometimes it's even one big giant mess, but there is a more peaceful, happy, able-to-live-life-again solution. We just have to want it. You and I, we have to want to be free from that which binds us up. And after the wanting, we have to seek it out with everything we have. We have to refuse to give up, give in, or quit.
So here's to you, and here's to me. Here's to happier days, more restful nights, and a life free from fear. It's out there, and it's ours for the taking.
Isaiah 41:10: Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you. Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.
Philippians 4:6-7: Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Twenty-five year old female stands five-foot-six and tackles the world every day in dress slacks and a pair of four-inch heels. There's the planes, trains, taxis, and rented automobiles, the always pesky airport security, lost luggage, and a team full of people to coordinate. Lest we forget e-mail, snail mail, text message, and a habitually low phone battery. It would appear as though nothing can slow slow her down, right?
Except that spider, who is the size of a dime and her own backyard after dark, because after all, an ax-murderer could be lurking in the shadows and intend to inflict a slow and unusual death upon her as she innocently disposes of the trash on Monday evenings. Legitimate concern, right?
Fear is an interesting concept. It plagues immeasurable amounts of people, but often has no validity. One of my very good friends uses an acronym to describe fear: false evidence appearing real. I've often seen self-help slogans proclaiming, "Fear is a liar," and "On the other side of fear lies freedom." I don't disagree, but with all of these adamant declarations and soothing techniques aimed at vanquishing fear, why are so many people still afraid?
Let's go back to that newly painted picture of yours truly. Admittedly, I'm afraid of spiders and ax-murderers...and drowning, and needles, and snakes, and strangers, and awkward social situations, and dark quiet places, but why? Do fears have any reasonable function or foundation?
For grins and giggles, let's use the words, "function" and "purpose" interchangeably for a moment. Does fear have a purpose? When I posed this question to myself, I automatically thought of the body's fight-or-flight mechanism. In this process, our mind perceives a threat and our body automatically responds by releasing stress hormones, increasing our heart rate, and speeding up our breathing. Essentially, our body prepares for battle. Fear could, and probably would, illicit this fight-or-flight response, which would certainly be beneficial in the event of an actual threat; however, the brain can actually respond with the fight-or-flight process without actually being in any sort of danger. Basically, what we perceive as danger isn't always so.
Let's move on to phase two of this equation. Does fear have any real foundation? If Little Suzie or Cousin Joe had been mauled by a bear, was laid up in a hospital for weeks, and escaped with only one leg and a few fingers, chances are, most people would agree they would have a reasonable cause (or foundation) for fear and intimidation. I would agree, but that doesn't free Suzie or Joe from any of the crippling effects of fear. The bear may have stolen their legs and fingers, but fear could potentially steal a lifetime of adventures from them if they were too afraid to step outside again.
Also important to consider is that fear (or lack thereof) has no bearing on actual danger. Earlier, we established our ability to distinguish between actual and assumed threats is sometimes skewed. On the contrary, consider those bozos on television that play with boa constrictors and wear rattle snakes around their necks like costume jewelry. They claim they're not afraid, and they certainly don't act the part, but that doesn't make handling deadly snakes any less dangerous. Their perception is skewed.
Fear distorts perception and reality. Fear limits, confines, suffocates, and destroys. Why do we continue to allow ourselves to be help captive by such fantasies? Isn't true that we're often confined by the walls we build ourselves?
"Fear isn't a fantasy, Lindsay. You have no idea how scary ________ (fill in the blank) is!" You're right, maybe I don't, but I do very well know what it is to be totally afraid, and I'm saying there is a better alternative. The bottom line is life is scary. Sometimes it's even one big giant mess, but there is a more peaceful, happy, able-to-live-life-again solution. We just have to want it. You and I, we have to want to be free from that which binds us up. And after the wanting, we have to seek it out with everything we have. We have to refuse to give up, give in, or quit.
So here's to you, and here's to me. Here's to happier days, more restful nights, and a life free from fear. It's out there, and it's ours for the taking.
Isaiah 41:10: Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you. Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.
Philippians 4:6-7: Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
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