a [re]focused life

“We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.” -Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

Today, we celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr.  A man whose Dream transformed our nation.  At its center, his Dream–of love, of equality, of peace, of kindness, of grace… it wasn’t (and isn’t) a NEW dream.  But it was a dream that had somehow been forgotten.  Disregarded and diluted by apathy, shut up and silenced by hate.

I read about and watch news footage or Hollywood depictions of that time, a mere 50 years ago, and wonder–How did we let ourselves believe such lies?  How did we let ourselves believe such atrocities were okay?  Separate seats (or none at all), separate drinking fountains, separate school rooms, separate toilets.  Classifying, dehumanizing, and making inferior one set of people, in order to puff up, inflate, and make Lords of another.  (Also not a new concept.)

I wonder if Dr. King ever felt like giving up.  I wonder if he ever felt overwhelmed by the sheer size and force of the evil he was fighting.  Surely, it must have felt hopeless at times.  When you are fighting so hard for something, it is heartbreaking to look around and see that, for the most part, a lot of people–Good people–don’t care.  Either because it doesn’t “affect them” personally, or because speaking up or acting out would somehow upset the status quo of their social circle, or for whatever reason (personal, financial) it would cause them some level of discomfort.  But still, Dr. King saw all of those people, the apathetic ones, the uncaring ones, even the people who wished to do him harm–he looked them in the eye and pressed forward, believing that Love could truly overcome evil.  Believing the very definition of hope and faith–believing and trusting in things unseen.

Today, I draw great inspiration from Dr. King.  In my own little life, my heart has been so heavy lately, my spirit unsettled.  I know that, to most of my friends (or “friends” on my various social networking sites) that I am probably beginning to get annoying.  I’ve been writing and shouting and linking and trying to draw attention to Charity: Water, to my hope of raising $5,000 in three short months.  (I’m about one-fifth of the way there.)  I’m selling things right and left so that I can try to fill in the gap, if my campaign ends up short.  I don’t know if that is really a purely self-sacrificial thing, or more of a stubbornness on my part.  I am struggling with “control,” over this, because while I want to MAKE this happen, I also know that God has bigger and better plans if I can just let go enough to trust Him in this area.

Sometimes I wonder if race doesn’t still play an important role in why this need (Re: Water Crisis) is so great.  Would the response be any different if a billion white people were suffering around the world, instead of a billion black, brown, and tan people?  Would the campaign draw a larger response if the thirsty child in the Charity: Water photo was blond-haired and blue-eyed?  I don’t know.  I can only speculate and assume… and we all know that assuming doesn’t help anything.  But I believe that if 4,000+ American children died today from a lack of clean water, we’d be rallying to do something about it.

My heart aches in the way that it did when I arrived home after my first missions trip, when I got home from the (literal) garbage dump shacks in Mexico, playing with children who ran barefoot through broken glass and feces, and yet, who had more joy than I had seen in my short lifetime.  When the parents of these children could look me in the eyes and tell me that THEY were the richest people in the world, simply by knowing Jesus.

I came home from that experience and I refused to sleep in my bed for a week.  How was it fair that I had a safe and comfortable home, a roof over my head, and a soft mattress to sleep on each night–AND still have Jesus?  Surely, I was the richest among rich.  I was, and I am.  I also came back from that trip determined not to listen to any secular music, having burned all of my “worldly” CDs, and I was appalled at the thought of “wasting” 2-hours in a movie theater, when that was 2 hours out of my life that could be devoted to a cause more worthwhile.  I know I probably irritated a lot of people during that time, with my newfound self-righteous attitude.  There is a balance in there, somewhere, but such is the curse of living as a believer in this fallen world, right?  I mean, truly, I can look back at my 17-year-old passionate self and roll my eyes, but my attitude was rooted in a broken heart.  I prayed for God to break my heart with the things that break His, and HE DID.  And out of that brokenness, one can do several things.

1.  Nothing.  You can become so overwhelmed and depressed by injustice that it paralyzes you and leaves you useless.  My not sleeping in my comfy bed did NOTHING to help those who go without, albeit if my heart was seemingly in the right place.

2.  Act.  In whatever small way, strive to make a difference in my corner of the world.

3.  Slowly become numbed and indifferent, once back in my comfort zone, in a world so far removed from what moved me.

I think, over the years, I have revolved back and forth between all three of these things.  I think, apart from selling everything and truly going to live among the poor, that I will always struggle with the balance between what I have been entrusted with, and what I am called to give.  Of my money.  Of my time.  It is a challenge I do not wish to take lightly.

I believe that my American generation has been entrusted with more money and more free time than any generation in the history of the world.  And yet, every single day we are enticed by numerous opportunities to squander it all.  Facebook/social media, the internet, video games, mindless television, frivolous shopping, the list goes on and on.  I am as guilty as the next person, I have entertained all of these things and more.  But I am striving so hard to be mindful.

I truly do not wish to be silent.

I do not wish to be still.

I do not want to be a slave to my stuff.

I want the minutes and hours of my life to account for something great.

I want to make a difference.

I want to live in a way that is mindful of the world outside of my four walls.

I do not want to grow weary.

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. -Galatians 6:9

I am trusting God to direct my path, because without Him I will only spin in circles.

Tis the gift to be simple, Tis the gift to be free,

Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained,

To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,

To turn, turn, will be our delight,

Til by turning, turning, we come ’round right.

-old Shaker hymn (Elder Joseph Brackett)

That’s one of the first songs I ever learned to play on the recorder in 4th grade.  And it’s been stuck in my head for a few days, now.

Over the past several weeks and months, I have been doing a lot of thinking as to what this next year is going to hold for my life–at least, as far as the choices I make and the actions I take that I can control part of it, because there is still always that whole “unknown” factor.  I’ve basically resolved that I would like to be nearer to my family, which means moving back out West, and I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time on Realtor.com and Utahhomes.com and the like.

I love looking at houses.  I always have.  I’m drawn to the architecture (I have a crush on 1950s/60s era ranch homes, anything Frank Lloyd Wright, Craftsman style bungalow/tudors, cottages, and cabins).  I guess in some ways, my interests kind of clash with each other.  I like “contemporary” and clean, efficient spaces, and I like the coziness of cottage/cabins, but as opposite as those sometimes may sound or appear to be, they really can go hand in hand.  I love all the “built-ins” that were once incorporated into homes.  Find me a home with built-in bookshelves or other interesting storage solutions/ways to maximize space, and my heart goes pitter-patter.

So, in all of my house-browsing, I resolved that I was now officially “saving up for a down payment.”  I played with the mortgage calculators, and found that wow–now is the time to buy.  Interest rates are at an all-time low of 3-4%.  (When my ex and I bought our house, at the height of the boom in 2003, our interest rate was in the high 7%, with excellent credit.)

Speaking of that, I learned a lot about banks and real estate and stupidity during that home-buying process.  For instance, based on one income alone (because we wanted to be safe in a one income situation), the bank approved us for over $250,000.  I can see how so many people got in trouble and over their head with their mortgages, because had we taken that, or even close to it, we would have been struggling.  I still think of that and shake my head in disbelief.  Because, I’ll be honest–when we first got that quote back, I saw the dollar-signs of possibility in my head, of what kind of house that could be, and I was like, “Aw yeah, cha-ching!  Fancy countertops, here I come!”  I mean, it’s tempting.  It’s tempting to “take that money and run,” so to speak.  Especially when you look around and it appears as though that is what everyone else is doing/has done.

Have you ever noticed, that we all want bigger/better (or at least as nice) homes than our parents have, right when we start out, when often times our parents worked 20-30 years to achieve similar goals?  Our expectations, where housing is concerned, have super-sized along with everything else over the past 1-2 generations.

I probably talk about my grandparents on here a lot, but only because they are the best role models and examples I’ve had in my life.  My (maternal) grandparents have never had a mortgage in their life.  They lived in a tiny apartment above someone’s house at the beginning of their marriage, saved and built one house, lived in it, bought property “in the country,” built a garage (lived in the garage), dug a basement, complete with kitchen (lived in the basement), and then built a very nice house, which they then moved into and raised their family for 30+ years, before downsizing into a smaller house and spending winters in Florida in a fifth-wheel camper that they pull with their truck.

My grandpa worked hard, owned his own business (excavation–made digging his own basement pretty easy, ha), and they have been SUCH an example to me, for many things, but mostly for living a life of frugality.  They had/have money.  And yet, they have always lived below their means (which, surprise, is how they have money, I’m guessing.)  They always take care of their things.  In 1999, when he retired, my grandpa bought his Chevy Silverado and the camper they travel in, and they are still using them to this day–and they look amazing.  Have they needed repairs and upkeep along the way?  Sure.  My grandpa recently replaced all the carpeting in the trailer with new laminate flooring, etc.  You walk into their trailer and it looks like brand new, even though it is 13 years old, and even though many of their friends and travel partners have traded in and upgraded many times over.

They are the most generous, kind, giving people I know, and it is because they have created a life where they can be.  They set goals and attained them.  They set boundaries and kept them.  They can discern between a “want” and a “need.”  They lead a pretty simple lifestyle, and they are able to travel and see the world.

All of this back-story to say: I have really started re-evaluating if I want to take on a home loan this year.  Or next year.  Or at all.

What if I could pay cash for a house?

What if I could be challenged every day to live simply?

What if I wasn’t a slave to our debt culture?

What if that simple financial freedom allowed me the ability to give more (of my money, of my time) and use less (energy, resources)?

What if I built one of these?

Photo Credit: Portland Alternative Dwellings

TINY house!!

I first become aware of the small house/tiny house movement a while back… but I was deeply entrenched in the American Dream and the Jonses and expectations and STUFF.  My 3-bedroom 1500sf house, believe it or not, didn’t seem big enough to me, most of the time.  I had lots of stuff.  And then, as life would have it, 2 years ago I downsized… to what fit in my car.  I moved to Nashville and rented a tiny bedroom for a year:

My Little Room

I became a master at storage solutions and was sort of energized by the challenge of finding new ways to store things and the freedom from the “culture of want,” because I knew quite frankly: I did not have room for anything else.  If I got something new, I would have to give something up.  I spent a LOT of time in that room, and you know what?  I really liked it.  It was cozy.  It was comfy.  It was organized.  I knew where stuff was.  And also?  I spent a lot of time outside of that room: exploring.  I think if you are in a smaller space, the outdoors become your living room (as other people have said).

I don’t know… at this point, I’m not really writing this post for anyone but myself, because I’m trying to organize my thoughts.  I’m debt-free right now, and I know I’d like to stay that way.  I believe it is possible, and I believe if I WERE to do something “CRAZY” like this, now is the time.  I would not plan to stay in TINY house forever, but it would allow me to save more money for my next building project.  A small cabin or cottage.  (Maybe this?)

Ultimately, I believe the “American Dream” is freedom.  Land of the free, right?  I think we’ve lost sight of that along the way somewhere.  I do not NEED a 2500sf house.  At this point, I would have to buy a whole house of stuff to put in that house, and really, that just seems kind of counter-intuitive to me.  (However: It is not my mission to judge anyone in a beautiful, large home. To each his own.)

Is the small house movement/TINY house idea drastic?  YES.  Is it radical?  YES.  Am I crazy for even thinking about it at all?  Probably.  But what if?  What if it was fun?  What if it was freeing?  What if it was possible?  What if I loved it?  (If I hate it, I could just stop and sell it, and not really be out anything.) What if it provided the fodder to write something worthwhile?  (You know, that silly writing bug of mine.)

Life is filled with choices and possibilities and adventures.  And it doesn’t even always come down to one “RIGHT” answer and one “WRONG” answer.  We get the freedom to travel a winding road and mix things up along the way.  I might just soon become the crazy/outcast/whackadoo of my family (and believe me, in my family, that bar is set pretty high).  We’ll see… lots of thinking, prayer, and research to be done.

I suspect I will be blogging more about this as I sort all of this out.  So… yay for that, or ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, depending on your interest level.

Is it really Monday already?  So sad to see the weekend go; it was a good one.  Adam and I both had Saturday off, which is a rarity that has only happened a few times since April.  We almost didn’t know what to do with ourselves.  We had our typical Saturday breakfast of muffin cake (a tradition Adam started by buying blueberry muffin mix and baking a cake out of it) and coffee, and then we headed off to the park to enjoy the warm, albeit cloudy, January day.

Playing Soccer

We started by kicking the soccer ball around for an hour or two.  It’s a fun way to get exercise that doesn’t really feel like exercise.  We also went for a short run, and I am feeling that today.  Ugh.  It is sad how quickly the ol’ body can get out of shape when all you do is sit at a desk all day and type.  Definitely need to get back into my regular exercise routine.  Especially since all of my jeans have now become “skinny jeans” and they are definitely not supposed to be fitting that way.

I love all the green space in Nashville.  For a city, it doesn’t feel much like a city at all.  By far the best parks system of anywhere I’ve lived.

On Sunday, we got to be a part of an amazing service at Cross Point.  Pete is such a great communicator, and I am so excited for this new series.  Sitting there in the pew yesterday morning, it definitely weighed heavily on my heart that this is going to be the hardest thing to leave in Nashville, if and when we go.  The friends and family that I have made here, and the amount of growing and healing I’ve done here, the way everyone serves and gets involved in the community and around the world: I will miss this so much.  But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Love my church home.

Next, we decided to grab lunch at Burger Up, our favorite local burger joint.  There’s nothing but good to say about Burger Up.  Inspired by Food, Inc., they source all their beef from a local, humane beef ranch, and source their other food and ingredients locally as well.

Menu

They are gourmet burgers, and I don’t even have words to describe how good they are.

Adam's BBQ burger

And the sweet potato fries?  Out of this world good.  They were even delicious re-heated in the microwave last night, and french fries are never good re-heated.  Love, love, love.

Fried Pickle Chips

We tried some fried pickle chips with ranch dressing as an appetizer.  Now I found another food item I look forward to devouring next time we visit.

But my favorite?  Still, always, forever:

Black Bean and Quinoa Burger

I went with my usual, (poorly lit picture, sorry) the Marathon Burger.  Which isn’t a “hamburger” at all, it is (as they put it) quinoa and black bean burger, lettuce, tomato, red onion, and cilantro lime creme fraiche.  I’m not even sure what “creme fraiche” is, except yummy in my tummy.  Now, I’m no vegetarian, but the flavor that comes from this black bean and quinoa burger, grilled up to perfection with the cilantro lime sauce, it is one of the best things I have ever eaten, and I will order it again and again.

The atmosphere is another reason why I love this place so much.  Lots of light and just very charming all around.

Love the big windows

After lunch, we strolled on down the street to Frothy Monkey for some delicious coffee/latte dessert, and then walked a bit more around the area, before heading home.  All in all, it was one of the best Sundays–and weekends–I’ve had in a while.  I’m a little bit sad that the weekend is over–and that my Marathon Burger and sweet potato fries are long gone–but, I’m looking forward to a good week.

I’ll be honest: I’ve been putting off this post for a few weeks or maybe even months now.  I don’t know what to say, because I have so much to say.  There’s an urgency, a passion, and a burden on my heart for this topic lately, and I want to be able to effectively communicate–with all the right words and information–in a way that will move you.  In a way that will inspire you to action.  In a way that will prompt you to join me in this important cause. 

Water.  Fresh, clean water.  You use it and I use it. We drink it, bathe in it, and waste it on a daily basis.  (The typical U.S. American family of four uses 300 to 400 gallons of water every day.)  Water refreshes us after a nice long run, it is necessary to brew our morning coffee, and it goes into the preparation of our food.  We don’t even think about it.  The week that I moved to Nashville was the week after the flood, and the city was still under water restrictions.  I learned a lot that week about how often I use water, and what a bummer it was to do without.  But even then, I still had a case of bottled water in my kitchen.  My laundry and bathing habits were curtailed, but I wasn’t thirsty.  I wasn’t suffering. 

Between 900 million and one BILLION–with a B–people on this planet do not have access to clean water.  Six thousand people will die today, half of them babies and young children, because they do not have access to the most basic necessity for life.  Six thousand people.  That’s the equivalent of 9/11 times two, happening every single day around the world.  Two million people a year.  On top of that, it is estimated that more than 30 million annual water related disease outbreaks could be eliminated, simply by implementing clean water and sanitation.  Hmm.  Go figure.  Apparently if you are not drinking out of a muddy hole that cows and other people use as their toilet, you are less likely to get sick. 

Can I share something with you?  In the past I’ve been a bit of a water snob.  I will go on record right here and tell you that I have a favorite water, and it is Fiji, and it is expensive.  According to Amazon, I could buy a 12 pack of 1.5L bottles for the low, low price of $36.99.  At a little over $3.00 a bottle, that really is a deal, compared to what I’ve paid for those large bottles at the gas station before. 

Let’s just pretend I am a regular Fiji drinker, and I want to buy two cases of water per month.  Twenty-four bottles of tasty, smooth Fiji water will run me about $75/month.  And it will leave me refreshed and feeling good about myself every time I open my fridge and see those beautiful, esthetically designed square bottles.  Mmmmm, this is the good life.  Or, I could drink the filtered, fresh water running directly into my kitchen for a month, and use that $75 to provide roughly 3.5 people access to clean drinking water for the foreseeable future. 

Since I’m on the topic: It’s not just me.  Americans, we love bottled water.  In fact, we drink more bottled water than milk, coffee or beer. (More than coffee OR beer.  I find this fact staggering.)  My grandma often tells me that when bottled water started appearing in the grocery store, right around the time I was born, she was taken aback.  She thought it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever laid eyes on, akin to seeing jars of bottled air on the shelf, between the bread and cereal. 

I’m with my grandma–it was and is ridiculous, but we as Americans spend $21 Billion dollars per year (2011 statistic, up from $15 Billion in 2007) buying bottled water.  Whoa.  We throw over 40 billion plastic water bottles into landfills each year, a waste of over $1 Billion in plastic.  Why do we do this?  Why do we have this thirst for bottled water, when 24% of the bottled water we buy is RE-PACKAGED TAP WATER, bottled by Coca-Cola and PepsiCo.  We are paying them our hard earned dollars to bottle up and re-package essentially the same water we could get by turning on the faucet in our very own house.  Our love and dependence on bottled water highlights much of what is wrong in our society and in our culture today: we are vain, we are lazy, we want instant gratification, and we are entitled brats who think our thirst is more important than your thirst. 

Seem a bit harsh? Well, consider this: The bottled water industry essentially started in France in the 1970s, with Perrier, where it grew to a status symbol.  “The Cool Kids Drink Bottled Water!”  And in America, since we do everything bigger and better than the rest–well, we wanted to become the Coolest Kids EVER.  Congratulations, we’ve succeeded.  Oh, and my precious Fiji water? 

Half of the wholesale cost of Fiji Water is transportation — which is to say, it costs as much to ship Fiji Water across the Pacific Ocean and truck it to warehouses in the United States than it does to extract the water and bottle it.  

 

The Fiji Water plant is a state-of-the-art facility that runs 24 hours a day. That means it requires an uninterrupted supply of electricity, something the local utility structure cannot support. So the factory supplies its own electricity, with three big generators running on diesel fuel. The water may come from “one of the last pristine ecosystems on Earth,” as some of the labels say, but out back of the bottling plant is a less pristine ecosystem veiled with a diesel haze.  Each water bottler has its own version of this oxymoron: that something as pure and clean as water leaves a contrail. – source: Bottled Water – A River of Money (Amazing article! Go read it next.)

Gross.  Even if you are some sort of grinch who couldn’t care less about people on the other side of the world who are dying of disease and thirst, if you even care a little bit about our planet or strive to be green at all, that fact alone should leave a bitter taste in your mouth.  It sure did mine. 

I am currently campaigning for Charity:Water, an amazing organization I’ve mentioned and written about before.  They work hard to bring clean drinking water to people all over the world, and ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT of every donation goes directly to water projects.  They raise separate money to run the business side of their charity, and they even raise money to replenish the fees lost in credit card transactions.  Talk about a commitment to the cause. 

I’ve set a $5,000 goal for March 8th, two days before my 31st birthday.  There is nothing more I want to see realized this year, than to see this campaign succeed, with your help, and provide an entire village–250 people–with clean drinking water, a promise that Charity:Water will back up in the next 18 months, complete with GPS coordinates to the well.  

It’s a new year.  A new year filled with promise and with hope.  We all want to do something great this year, and this is our chance.  Will you consider partnering with me?  I’ve named my campaign, “Spare the Change: Be the Change,” because that is honestly all it takes.  Spare change.  Three dollars, five dollars, every tiny bit helps.  Every tiny bit is not so tiny when it is pooled together to do something GREAT.  If you can’t join me in the months leading up to March, I will not be at all offended, but please think about how you could make an adjustment this year in your own household.  Maybe together everyone could cut out their favorite purchased beverage for a month, and then donate that amount.  Whatever is practical and meaningful for YOU. 

I hope I have opened your eyes to something you wouldn’t have otherwise thought about today.  I hope it gets you thinking, and that your thinking leads to action.  I hope you know that you CAN be the change you wish to see in the world.  I know that together, we can make a difference, and without a whole lot of sacrifice on our part.  It’s a big problem with a simple solution: We just need to want this more, for other people we will never meet, than we want what we want for ourselves.  Yes, there are a lot of “wants,” in that sentence.  We have that luxury.  It is our wants vs. others needs.  It’s jacked up and it needs to change.  

The End.

Hello and Good Morning, 2012!!

Okay, yes, 2012 is technically 4 days old and I am just now acknowledging it.  Yikes.  Good thing it’s a new calendar year and not a living being, dependent on me for sustenance and survival. 

So many things going on right now, so many things to write about!  Perhaps I should start with a postmortem on 2011.

2011:  Oh, 2-0-1-1… you were a hard year.  Nothing close to the way 2009 was a hard year, absolutely not, nothing like that.  And, to be fair, following the mostly amazing year that 2010 was for me, there was quite a lot to live up to.  This was still a good year, a great year, even… but a hard year.  The first few months found me absolutely struggling: broke and in debt with no work prospects, and unsure of where I would lay my head.  February brought a new job and the signing of the lease of the Super Cute and Charming Cottage.  March brought my 30th birthday, long lunch walks at the Duck Pond with this guy from work, who became my actual real-live boyfriend right around St. Patrick’s Day.  April began my schedule change at work, which meant I was stuck at work every single Saturday until at least 7:30, sometimes as late as 9 p.m.  Thus began the period I like to call: The Death of my Social Life.

I spent a lot of the summer training for a new position at work, one that I was very excited about, one that was supposed to start in September,  October 10th, October 17th… and then on October 3rd, our little company was sold to the biggest, baddest shark in our industry, and instead October 17th became my first day at my new new OLD job, self-employed, subcontracting/working from home.  The same one that left me so broke at the beginning of the year.  However, I am pleased to say that November and December were my busiest months of work EVER, and I made a good deal of money.  Enough that I am able to begin 2012 completely out of the debt I was in, with a small amount of savings.  Gotta make hay while the sun is shining, as they say, and I’ve been a haymaking fool.  I took every bit of work I was offered.  I had a huge project the past couple of days that left me working through the night with no sleep, so I’m good for the rest of the week, but yet, still panicking a bit inside because I have no work lined up at the moment.  That’s the fine line I walk.  It’s been busy.  There should and most likely will be work, in the weeks ahead.  But it’s the unknown that scares me. 

I guess that’s my big lesson from 2011: so much of life is unknown.  I made some grand, sweeping declarations about 2011, as we are wont to do, at the beginning of a fresh new year, but honestly?  NOTHING went how I imagined, dreamed, or even planned for.  Not necessarily in a BAD way, just in surprising, unexpected ways that caused everything else to shift and change. 

October brought with it not only the employment upheaval and uncertainty, but also the expiration and/or re-signing of the lease on the Cute and Charming Cottage, that we once called Narnia.  Except Narnia it was not.   As it turns out, kindhearted and grandparent-like landlords, while sweet and good, can also be absentminded and neglectful.  There were a whole list of problems–a week without water, a leaking roof, a water leak inside the wall which resulted in a sizzling power outlet, a back door that doesn’t shut or lock properly/water gushing in the back porch door every time it rains–and not much, if any, resolution to those problems. 

In theory, driving a half-mile of stone lane back to the cottage seemed quaint and quiet and charming, but in reality: dodging the giant potholes became nearly impossible, my car got constantly scratched up from the brush and branches, and at times it could be a little scary back there when an unknown vehicle or unknown person or anything else goes BOOM in the night. 

I ultimately decided that I would not renew my half of the lease, provided that my friend and roommate could find someone else to take over.  It’s fair to say that relations were a bit strained anyhow, and I take 100 percent of the blame for that.  I originally moved in there as a happy, turning-30-year-old, single, and ready for fun roommate adventures.  Instead, Adam invited me to the zoo (literally and figuratively) and everything turned on its head.  I spent more and more time with him, less time at the cottage, to the point where I was basically just paying for a place to sleep a few hours a night. 

November found me shacking up with my boyfriend at his apartment.  With my job situation being what it is (freelance, unpredictable) and his job situation at our old company in a precarious state (read: he really doesn’t know if he will have a job past February/March), and the fact that we were spending all of our free time together anyway, it kind of seemed like a no-brainer.  I know there are people in my life who think this “no-brainer” decision actually means that I have taken leave from my senses in making it, but honestly, I struggled (struggled!) with deciding if moving in with Adam was really the Best Choice, and ultimately, we both decided it was. 

I went over so many things… if I was my friend, would I recommend this choice; if I was my daughter, would I approve, and so on and so forth.  It comes down to this: people can argue as to whether this was the best choice, but I am confident that it really was, for us.  In these uncertain times, we are fairly confident that between the two of us, we should be able to keep the roof over our heads, instead of struggling to make rent on two places.  

In another life, I am confident that we would have been engaged or even married by now.  I know this because marriage and life-long commitment has been Adam’s intention from the very beginning.  He was and is extremely clear about that.  I, however, am the one holding us back. (Not forever, just for now.) There are a myriad of reasons for that, which I will address later (On the blog. In real life, I am addressing them now).

In conclusion: 2011 has left me happy overall, but very, very tired.  I’ve been working my tail off, and I hope to have a lot of work in this first quarter of 2012.  2011 was filled with unexpected surprises (good) and bumps in the road (bad, but surmountable). 

2012 is so unknown for me (and let’s face it: for everyone) that I’m trying not to plan too much, yet also I don’t want to fail to plan.  (“If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.”)  There is a very good chance that by year’s end I could be a.) Living 1500 miles away from here.  b.) Married  c.) None of the above, bewildered, and wondering where my year went. 

I miss my friends (here and everywhere.)  I miss my family.  I hope to achieve a better work:life balance.  And most of all, I want to learn to take each day as it comes.  Tomorrow will care for itself.  Today has enough trouble of its own (Matthew 6).

So, it’s Thanksgiving week.
Today, I am going to talk about my family. We’re a rugged, ragged crew, but… I love us. We’ve had heartaches and blessings, pain and joy, and while we don’t look or function how I would have imagined, this family of mine is a patchwork quilt, sewn and held together by common bonds of love and grace. It’s interesting how we often look for strangers to love, to shower grace upon, when sometimes the greatest needs are right within our own family. Forgiveness is tough. And extending new mercies, in the same way that God does with us, is a chore that I daresay is IMPOSSIBLE without the help of the Holy Spirit. But the end result is nothing short of beautiful, and “just as it should be,” in the way that it takes a pile of brokenness and turns it into redemption.
It took the funeral of my paternal grandfather, earlier this month, to get my dad, sister, brother, and myself all in the same room for the first time in a year. And not because we have any ill will toward each other, but simply because of time and distance and money and all of those things that become barriers as the days and years tick away. A few months ago, as my roommate was embarking an another trip home to Pennsylvania, I was a little bit shocked at the frequency of her trips. She was fortunate in that her parents were flying her home this time, but she regularly makes the drive 4 or more times a year. Meanwhile, I had no idea when I would see my family next, but it definitely wasn’t going to be in this calendar year, and thanks to some recent job uncertainty, probably not in the next calendar year, either. I was thinking 2013 was going to be my next chance to really “get home,” and in this case, “home” = Utah, because it’s where most of my immediate family lives.
I had become a little (or a lot) hardened to this fact. And maybe even a little bit boastful, in a weird way. My roommate was so thankful to get home to her family again, and I was proud in the fact that I didn’t know when I would see my family again, and that was just fine with me, thankyouverymuch. Because that is how I’ve coped with it all of these years. That is how I have made it work. They are there, and I am here (wherever here is, at any given time) and that is just The Way It Is. We can all be tough and muddle through and see each other every 12 to 18 months and just be okay with that. It’s worked quite well for me up until this point.
Until…
Until an awkward side hug with my dad during Taps. Until all of our tears fell and mixed together, watering the ground beneath our feet, the place where the shell of my grandfather now resides. It’s always weird to watch a dad cry. Uncomfortable and wrong and vulnerable and… a whole bunch of words that I don’t have command of, not then and not now. And I thought a lot about my grandpa and my dad, about the two of them, and their relationship, and what it was, and what it wasn’t. I think the saddest goodbyes are the ones where you don’t mourn so much what was, but what was not, and what never will be.
In the days and weeks since, I have done a lot of examining of my own heart and my own life, and all of these relationships with these people that I love. It truly is easy to keep all of them at arm’s (and 1,630 miles) length when I never see them. Ah, but it’s the gathering together again that makes it tough. When we are all in the same room, laughing and crying and breathing the same air. These people that I shared a roof with for 14-18 years of my life. Family. The people who just… get you, and not because they have grown to know you, but because they grew with you. Because they are you. Because they have the same smile, and the same twisted sense of humor. It is in that togetherness that I realize once again, in a heartwarming and heartbreaking way, just how much I miss them.
If nothing else, it is good to be reminded. It’s good to drink in that sweetness that–even amongst years of bitterness–can only be shared with those few people. It’s good to let love wash over all the other junk of this life, and to look at these people with a renewed and refreshed sense of wonder. A new and overwhelming sense of gratitude.
As my grandfather’s life was recounted, most of the tales involved ways in which he almost died, many times over. His crazy antics in a tiny prop plane. His time spent in an oil tanker during WWII. All of his many flirtations with danger. His love of all of the bad food and drink life has to offer. And yet, he spent 91 years on this earth. So many close calls, so many instances that could have ended his life early, but instead, he married, had two sons and five grandchildren, and an undetermined number of future great-grandchildren and beyond.
Sometimes we forget the power of one life . Without him, there would be no us. And without us, there would be no… future wisecracking, mugwump, hippity-hop, smartypants, know-it-all sonofaguns.
I love us. I really do.

It’s a beautiful fall morning here in middle Tennessee.  My work for the day is finished, which is great, although I have more work I need to get done for the weekend.  I am finding that I need to be more conscientious about breaking my assignments up into little chunks, smaller mini-goals instead of knocking everything all out at once.  A few days this week I began my work day at 2 a.m., so that I could have everything done early in the morning, and have the day “off”.  I really liked that, actually.  However, getting 3 or 4 hours of sleep isn’t really a good life plan, so I will need to make the aforementioned adjustments to my work goals.

I found a really lovely planner for sale through one of the blogs I read, and I am itching to order it, but it is $50.  Fifty bucks for a planner?  Will it really help me be that much more organized?  I love the IDEA of organization, and planning, and accomplishing goals and crossing them off the list… but then I get distracted.  Owning a planner does not DO the planning for me.  Very much like all the many empty notebooks I have, all the pretty pages that I see in the store and think, “If I had that notebook, with all that fresh, clean paper, I would really write something wonderful!”  The possibility contained within those bindings, combined with that delicious fresh paper smell, it is intoxicating.

I lack discipline, confidence, consistency, and determination.

Very often I have great intentions, but my follow through is weak.  And just like my work, I need to chop all of the other things I want and need to accomplish into smaller, manageable goals as well, otherwise I just get burned out and discouraged.

But mostly I just need to work harder, try harder, and DO more.  Step away from the internet, the Facebook, the Pinterest, and the Twitter, and live my life in 3D.  So, with that said… I need to get ready for the day, knock out a few loads of laundry at the laundromat, and go grocery shopping.

Have a WONDERFUL weekend, blog friends!!

As I sit down to write this post for the second time today, I am honestly doing so with a chuckle.  I had a draft mostly written, which was wiped out when I accidentally flipped the switch to my surge protector with my toe, and for some reason, WordPress does not have it saved.  I was waxing poetic on the beauty of mornings, and the chance to start fresh.  Ah, irony.

To be honest, I have never been much of a morning person, but I am learning to love mornings more and more as I get older.  Right now, I am sitting here with a delicious cup of coffee in hand, blanketed by early morning sunshine that is streaming in through the window.  From where I’m sitting, life doesn’t get a whole lot better than this.  It’s MORNING!  Everything is fresh and new.  Warm, buttery light has cut through the coldest, darkest of nights.  Possibility is drowning out doubt.  Hope is carried in on the morning breeze.

Psalm 30:5 tells us that, “Weeping lasts for a night, but JOY comes in the morning.”

We are currently in the middle of a great message series at church called, “Better Days” and yesterday Blake was speaking on joy.  He was explaining how it is a choice.  Now, I’ve always thought of it as “choose bitterness or choose joy,” but Blake posed a different question:

Are you chasing happiness or choosing joy?

BOOM.  Those two things can get easily intertwined, can’t they?  I am probably going to misquote this, and the message isn’t currently online yet this morning, but he explained it liked this:  Happiness is like a thermometer that changes based on the environment and conditions around it; joy is a thermostat that regulates the conditions.  Happiness evaporates.  Joy is eternal.

This is so applicable to my life right now, and for this entire calendar year.  I’ve kind of gotten caught up in this trap of, “if…then” thinking, that has bottomed out every single time.  At the beginning of the year, it was, “If I could just find a job… (then I will be happy).”  Well, I found that job, and it drained me, exhausted me, had me working every Saturday since April, and as of a few weeks ago, the company was bought out by another and I once again find myself working from home, in pretty much the same situation I was in before.  Did the job make me happy?  It brought me happiness at first, yes.  I still remember celebrating with Chick-Fil-A immediately after my interview.  It brought me steady paychecks.  It brought an amazing man into my life.

But it also took from me.  It took my time.  It took my energy.  And, in some sense, it took my security.  Why?  Because I gave all of these things away, to some degree.  Because no matter how much I tried to safeguard against it, that JOB and paycheck had become my One Thing.  “If I could just get that ONE THING, then I will be (this much) happier.”

There’s a whole other list of things I could get into that seemed like happiness at first, but instead left me rather bewildered and lost this year, but I won’t.   And don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that HAPPY = EVIL.  But it’s so easy to chase happiness instead of choosing joy.  The chase?  It gets tiresome.  It wears you out.  It leaves you empty.  The beauty of choosing joy is that it allows rest.  You can stop what you are doing and embrace it now.  Where you are.  In this moment.

One thing that I love about God is that He always leaves the choice up to us.  He has fought and won eternity for us, secured for us our future, if we so choose.  The big stuff is taken care of.  And then, He leaves the days and the moments up to us.  We are warned not to worry about tomorrow, (Matthew 6:34), and assured that His mercies are new each morning (Lamentations 3:22-23).

I recently started looking at this verse a little differently: “Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve,” (Joshua 24:15).  Choose this day.  Who will you serve?  Will you choose joy or chase happiness?  Will you be anchored by Truth, or blown about by the waves?  I constantly find myself in that boat on the stormy sea, get a few steps out like Peter, and then look down.  I constantly have to be conscious of where my eyes are.  Where is my focus?

Right now, this day, I will choose joy.  And tomorrow, I get to do it all over again.  Something about being Intentional….

I’m probably the least “exhibitionist” blogger there ever was.  Not that I actually call myself a “blogger.”  Not anymore.  Not for about five years.  But even in the old days, I was pretty careful about never attaching my full name to anything I wrote online, or more recently, to things like my Twitter, Flickr, or Pinterest accounts.

I didn’t think about the fact that when people would start linking to me–by my name–that quickly my name would be associated with this blog, this space, and be Google-able.  When I Google myself, this blog is now the first result that comes up.  I guess it doesn’t really matter, and if I ever really wanted to be a “real writer,” I would have to get over whatever fears I have about having my name out there on the big, bad interweb.

I did have my first experience with identity theft this week.  That was… fun (or another F-word entirely.)  I think I somehow got phished when buying a Groupon last week, although I’ll never be able to prove it.  Or, it could have been tied to an event several weeks ago when I used my bank card at a fast food chain and the guy walked away before coming back with my food and my card.  Or, any of the times I have used my card at a restaurant and the server cashed me out.  In any event, the good news is, I should get most/all of my money returned to me.  The thief wined and dined on my dime, though.  He/she started out small, purchases at KFC and Jack in the Box, before moving on to bigger and better things, culminating in almost $200 at a grocery store, and $300 at a restaurant.

No one stepped foot into my physical personal space, all they did was virtually dip their grubby hands into my checking account, so I was shocked by how violated I felt.  I’m definitely going to re-evaluate when and how I use my card from now on, and I’ve signed up for identity-theft protection and credit watchdog services through my bank.

It’s been a heck of a draining week.  The other highlight was that I apparently have a malfunctioning seal somewhere on my car door, because I ended up with a good one inch deep pool of water in my car when I let it sit for a few days in the rain.

My personal and professional life is in flux right now (isn’t it always?) and I’ll likely be changing positions and moving again before the holidays arrive.  I need to be “flexible” and “go with the flow,” but lately I feel more like a rubber band that is just stretched way too thin.  I know that everything will work out, and that God will work everything for good, but I’ve still been plenty stressed in the meantime, not knowing how anything is going to turn out.  I never learn my lesson, and that is that I will NEVER know how anything is going to turn out.  I just hope that one of these days I will be less exhausted, and less wary of the sky falling down all around me all of the time.

It’s ridiculous to complain about employment–ANY employment–in an economy this bad.  It’s even more ridiculous when you consider that I spent a solid 3 months at the beginning of this year making ZERO dollars per month.

But, I’m going to complain anyway, because lately I’ve had a lot of time to think, but the problem is that most of my thinking doesn’t lead to ACTION.  I need to start taking charge of my career.  I regret that I didn’t invest the time I had while unemployed to build my own business and get my own clients, but the idea and concept of that left me paralyzed by fear.

I haven’t been very INTENTIONAL this year, after all.  I haven’t been very brave or bold.  I haven’t been very confident.  And this saddens me to a great, great degree.

I am barely scraping by right now, in a job that stresses me out and pays me 1/3 of my hourly rate from last year, and LESS per hour than I was making 11 years ago.  I haven’t even opted to sign up for the insurance plan because while I now qualify, it would be roughly $160/month for a five-THOUSAND dollar deductible.  I hardly ever get sick, seriously, maybe once every 5 years, but it is a huge gamble considering all of the unknowns.

Honestly, I am so thankful to be able to pay my bills again, but at the same time I know my skills and abilities demand more.  I just wish I knew what that was.  Do I go to school or not go to school?  What do I even want to be when I grow up?  Should I start my own transcription business?  Should I go back to freelancing?

Bleh.

I’d like to think that within the next 5 years I’ll be settled into family life, doing the mom thing.  But when I look at my bank account and I think about how much babies cost, I kind of wonder if maybe I should just get some fish and instead give generously to Compassion and Samaritan’s Purse.  Just kidding.  Kind of.

I’ve loved and lost and learned enough over the past several years to know that MONEY is the least important thing of all, in the big picture.  But at the same time, it is necessary.  I have a roof over my head, I have a running vehicle, I have enough money to pay my bills and eat, so I really don’t know what I’m complaining about, other than that feeling of there has to be something MORE.  I know that I am capable of so much MORE, not strictly in a financial sense, but within my skill set.  The problem is, it’s a repetitive cycle for me:  think/dream, get discouraged, become complacent, become bored/frustrated, think/dream, get discouraged….

It’s time to take ACTION.  I just don’t know what that looks like for me.

Hey, so… I’m still alive.  Alive and well, actually.

I can’t believe I haven’t written since February.  It is now almost June.  So much life has happened between then and now.  March was a big month for me.  I moved into the cute cottage my roommate and I found, turned 30, and started a new job all within a 10-day span of time.  St. Patrick’s Day found me sitting on a stool in an Irish pub, talking to this coworker of mine (Adam) who loves Guinness and Ireland as much as I do.  The next week, he decided to join me at the park/duck pond where I walked during lunch.  We walked and talked for a few days before he asked me if I had plans that evening.  I did not.  He took me to the zoo after we got out of work that day.  It was such a fun first date, and we nearly had the whole place to ourselves.  It started raining right as we were leaving and when we walked out to the car, a giant rainbow appeared.  It may or may not have been a sign from God, but it definitely made me smile. Then we finished off the evening with dinner and great conversation at our Irish pub.

I’m moving forward with hope and a little trepidation… in many ways, this relationship has definitely been moving fast, we basically went immediately from “dating” to “in a relationship,” but I feel so safe and comfortable with him that it has all just progressed naturally.  However… every now and then I freak out.  This wasn’t my plan.  Adam took me COMPLETELY by surprise.  If you recall, I just moved into a darling little house with one of my best friends.  We were intent on and content with enjoying our singleness together.  A few weeks before Adam and I started dating, I declared to my entire small group (after the topic of dating/men came up) that I wasn’t leaving Narnia (what we call our cottage) for just anyone, and that the guy would have to storm the castle walls, guns blazing.

There was laughter and jokes all around, and an idea to immortalize my quote into needlepoint on a pillow for our cottage.  Before a single stitch was sewn, in walks Adam.  He did his fair share of storming the walls.  He disarmed me with his kindness and consideration.  He constantly and consistently opens car doors for me, he randomly picks me wildflowers that he finds in the yard, and he brings me breakfast to my desk every morning.  He’s always checking up on me to make sure I have enough to eat or drink, to make sure I’m comfortable, and to make sure I’m happy.  He’s so attentive and loving, it kind of weirded me out for a while.  It’s a strange paradigm shift to go from a very long relationship norm of apathy, disinterest, verbal/emotional abuse to a norm of being constantly told how awesome and incredible I am, and reminded how much I’m loved.  There’s a tiny voice in the back of my mind that tells me he’s going to get bored with me, too.  He’s going to end up hating me, too.  He’s going to call me horrible names, make me cry just so he can laugh at me, and slam doors in my face.  But that tiny voice is told to shut the heck up on a regular basis, because Adam doesn’t slam doors.  He opens them.  He walks between me and angry geese at the park.  He doesn’t let me get the mail out of my mailbox if he’s with me, because he thinks the cars go by too fast and worries that I could get hit by a car.  So he, instead, puts himself in that danger.  He isn’t negative.  He doesn’t have a critical spirit.  He has such passion for life.  He is Mr. Glass Half Full, and he’s helping me see the world the way I USED to see it.

This wasn’t my plan, he wasn’t my plan, but I am moving forward anyway…  One day at a time.

This is getting rather long-winded, so I will wrap things up.  That pretty much fills in the gaps of the last few months.  Work has been CRAZY (more on that later, although probably not much more, because I do not want to discuss work here).  I’ve been pretty drained mentally (from aforementioned crazy work) and financially: my car needed new brakes, rotors, tires AND I had to write a check of $1,000 to the IRS, all during the month of April.  So, I went from having no job and zero dollars to having a job and zero dollars, but I am hoping in the next few weeks I can scrape my way out of this hole.  After I pay my auto insurance, which is due next week.  Ha.  It’s always something, isn’t it?

But, I’m THANKFUL.   Thankful for this chaos.  Thankful that I’m working 2nd shift this week, if only because it will allow me some time to write some much needed cards/correspondence, call some people, and emerge from this hole I’ve fallen into.  I miss my friends and family.  I don’t have internet at home, and they took internet away from us at work as well, so aside from randomly checking Facebook from my phone, I’m pretty much out of the loop.  I don’t even Tweet anymore!  And I even have an app for that.  Sad!

(Random: Seven months until Christmas.  How is this year almost half over already?!)

Hello, friends and sports fans, it is I, the sporadic blogger.  If I were concerned about my “brand,” this kind of inconsistent blogging simply would not do.  Fortunately, I’m not that civilized.  No branding here… just me.  However, I do need to be more intentional about my writing.

I have some good news to report.  In two weeks, I will be moving with one of my best friends into our beautiful little cottage house in the woods.  We both needed a new place to live, and we looked at a few places that were livable but not ideal, and then we found The Cottage.  It was love at first sight (for both of us, I believe), and it boasts nearly all the requirements I have for a “dream house.”  Fireplace.  Hardwood floors.  Built-in bookshelves.  Lots of cupboard and counter space.  Charm galore.  Our driveway is actually a very, very long lane, so we will always have plenty of parking for all our friends to visit.  I am already looking forward to the game nights, dinners, and small group events we can now host together in our home.  To say I’m excited is a vast understatement, especially because actually getting this place seemed like a reach.

When we began looking, I decided to make a list of all the qualities we wanted in a house, since both of us want this to be our last move for a while.  I thought if we had it spelled out, it would help us better identify what would work for us and what wouldn’t.  I also kept reminding myself that while seemingly “too good to be true,” that we could trust God with our list and that He is into the details.  It’s a fine line to walk, theologically, because I’m not into prosperity doctrine at all, but I wanted to trust that God was aware of our situation, and that what seemed daunting to us was possible for him.  Clearly we just needed a roof over our heads, everything else is just BLESSING.  And wow, are we blessed.

Our new landlords are the sweetest couple, they remind me so much of my grandparents.  They treated us to breakfast at Cracker Barrel on Saturday morning, and we talked for an hour and a half.  I was under the impression that this was a “business meeting,” to go over the lease, etc., but no—they just wanted to buy us breakfast and visit with us.  They are almost as excited for us to move into this place as we are, going on and on about how beautiful the flowering trees and plants are going to be, about the deer who inhabit the property, and all of my opportunities for nature photography in my own backyard.

The house is on a knoll, with beautiful views of the sunrise and sunset.  I am so looking forward to drinking tea in perfect morning light.  I am so thankful for the provision and care of my Father.  I have witnessed many miracles in my life this past year, and this is just one more to add to the list.  Life hasn’t been all that easy the past few months, but it has been beautiful.  I have struggled, but I have also come to know great peace, and great gifts.  I’m surrounded by friends who love well.  Friends who have blessed me in countless ways, tangible and intangible, and I will never again doubt the power of community.

Today I’m feeling a little discouraged.

I can’t SEE how any of this is going to work out.

How can none of these companies want me?

Not the medical records departments, where I would be utilizing my 12 years of skills, skills that yes, some people DO go to college for.

Not the front office receptionist positions.

Not the Starbucks or server or hostess positions.

What is next? Waffle House?

The temp-to-full-time position that I’ve been waiting for since mid-December, “Just waiting for a start date,” fell through on Monday. They lost the big contract they were going for, thus, they don’t need my help. So, I’ve sent off about 10 more applications and resumes this week.

I don’t know what to DO. I feel like I’m DOING all I can do. And then it comes back down to the patience part. The trusting part. The waiting part. In my heart, I know things will work out somehow. And I know it won’t be from anything I’m doing…

…because I’ve done it all, and it’s not working.

I haven’t updated lately, because there hasn’t been much to update on.  I am continuing to wait for huge pieces of my life to fall into place.  Everything is in flux, everything is changing.  Still waiting and praying to hear where I will be living in March.  Still waiting and praying to figure out how I will pay for my living expenses in March.  Still waiting to find out if I will actually be accepted to school this fall.  Still waiting… and waiting still.

Amazingly enough, I find myself surprisingly hopeful as I head into this coming week.  Maybe because it’s been a beautiful, sunshine-filled weekend.  I’m sure that has something to do with it.  However, as I’ve been laying down all of my wishes and dreams, God has been working on my heart.  One of the more amusing lessons I’ve been learning these days is that there is no end to this journey of growth and rebuilding.  I keep wanting to get there, in the typical, “Are we there yet?” impatient kid fashion, but only on arrival into Heaven will Christ’s work in me be finished, and it will take my whole life to realize the truth of His promise: He is faithful to complete it!

In the past few months, I have been hoping for many things, and none of these things have yet come to pass.  It is in this waiting that God has shone a spotlight into my heart and illuminated this uncomfortable fact:  It is very tempting for me to not only hope FOR things, but put my hope IN things.  And every day it seems I have to do a heart check.

My hope IS Christ.

My strength is Christ.

My patience is sustained in Him.

My existence and eternal destiny are indebted to Him.

Any measure of peace or hope in the midst of this trial are from Him.

All my praise is due to Him.

He’s the author and perfecter of my Faith (Hebrews 12:2), and He’s doing a lot of authoring and perfecting lately.  It’s not always comfortable, and it makes me squirm in my chair, because I just. want. to. know.

All I really know at this point is that all this time is not a waste.  He is changing my heart.  He’s awakening it, and getting it ready.  Preparing me for next week, next month, and 10 years from now.  I am doing all I can to be receptive to His prompting, and yet still remain in a state of patience.  I’m in the Word and drowning in His love.

“The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

Y’all!  He DELIGHTS in us!  God is singing over you and I right now!  I’ve been thinking about love, as I’ve been watching several of my friends caught in the thick of it, and how when you are so smitten with a person, you can’t even stop yourself from smiling when you say their name.  Or sometimes, even THINK their name.  BAM!  Smilefest.

God is smiling over me, and you, right now.  I don’t have a lot of answers at the moment, but for now, that one fact is enough.  He is singing and smiling, and I am singing and smiling back.  The joy of the LORD is my STRENGTH.

I haven’t been cranking out the blog posts here, but I will say this: I am so thankful I have been writing.  Online, and off.  Because I can go back and read these words that are sometimes a shock to me, proof of the work God is doing in my heart.  And as we all know, life change can’t happen before heart change.

Basically everything I’ve written here in the past few months has been reflective of my current struggle: what is my next step in life?  I’ve been hitting roadblock after roadblock where my career is concerned.  The catch has always been, it’s not my IDEAL career, but it has always paid the bills.  I hate the work, but it’s what I know how to do, and the money CAN be good.  So it’s been this comfortable little security nest.  The problem is that sometimes nests can become cages, if we’re not careful.

Now, my work (and income) is at a standstill.  The company I contract to has not had a single minute of work for me in over a month, and before that it had been dwindling.  The jobs I have applied to have not worked out.  SO MANY JOBS.  I have been a job applying fool.  Only ONE call, one interview, from all of that mess.  I have over 12 years experience in my field, and yet, doors have remained closed to me.  Then, grasping at straws, I applied at Target.  Not even Target wants me.  And they were hiring!

So… what the heck?  I’ve been banging my head against this wall for months.  It would be so easy for me to say, “Well… can’t find a job here, peace out.”  In fact, I guarantee that’s what Sondra 1.0 would have done.  I would have gotten so discouraged, I would have felt stupid, I would have said, “I thought God was calling me here, but I guess not.”  Which was the sermon illustration Pete used about Abraham on Sunday.  I am Abraham.   I felt God directing me to Nashville, and now this job situation is my “famine.”

The only thing that has kept me from fleeing is the unexplainable sense of peace I have had in the midst of this storm.  (And the undeniable sense that I am home, for as long as God wills it.)  As my money has slowly trickled away, so has the claim it had on my sense of security.  And let’s face it, that was pretty much the last straw.  I already learned that my identity is not in my marriage, because that is gone.  I’ve already lived the life where I had everything—house, money to burn, two cars in the garage, I had it all.  But I did not have Love.  It was the most empty, miserable existence, and I would not wish it on my worst enemy.

Now, I have Love but no money.  Ha.  Yes, I do believe it is possible to have both.  (But there’s only ONE I can’t live without.)  This journey has been about stripping away everything that has kept me from authentic faith.  And it has become apparent that God is trying to point me in another direction.  I’ve been wrestling with taking a giant step into the unknown, and He is there.  Thankfully, I have proof or I would still try to doubt:

It’s true; I am surrounded by very wise and encouraging people.  People who love me, and people who love the God who loves me.  Over and over, whether they knew it or not, they were helping to confirm in my heart what God was already speaking.

All of this intentionality stuff, abiding in Christ, staying in the word, God is leading me to verses like this.  And then…. the very next weekend, Pete uses the same exact verse in his sermon.  Whaaaaaaat.  I’d like to call a Zack Morris Time-Out.  Yes, it COULD be a coincidence… or it could be that my Father is gently beating me about the head with a very large hammer. Time in.

Finally, it was a conversation I had with a very wise and helpful friend this week that pushed me over the edge.  Okay, fine.  I will try.  I will throw off fear and I will be intentional and I will be bold.  I will also stop attempting to work and rework all these puzzle pieces of my life.  I will stop trying to make pieces fit that don’t belong, simply because I want to have a complete picture.  I will—again, still, always…. lay it down.

Because here’s the point:  All my life, I’ve labored under many false impressions.  Some of them I’ve addressed, some I haven’t, but here’s one—That it is my job to take this mess of jigsaw pieces and sawdust and make it all fit.  Guess what?  It’s not.  Here the Truth:  I am the art, not the Artist.   I am God’s beautiful design.  He HAS all of the pieces, all of the things I can’t see.  All He asks is for faith like a child.  All He asks is for me to trust him, and be patient, and He will bring everything together in His time.  There is a great amount of peace in that.  The kind that passes all understanding.

Yesterday, I took the next step in being Intentional for 2011.  I applied to college for the fall semester.  It really echoes all of these prayers, which I wrote back in December, before I knew anything about #OneWord2011, before I knew God was helping me pick my word.

If there’s anything I wish for this next year, it’s that I will be more intentional, in all aspects of my life.  I pray that I will be open to whatever opportunities God sends my way, even if I don’t seem qualified for them.   I pray that He opens my eyes to giftings and talents and aspects of my personality, details of His creation (me!!) that have gone unnoticed for 29 years.

He will equip me.  He will give me strength.  He will hold my hand.  He will.