from 12-11-2009

You gave me starlings this morning
hundreds and hundreds
stretched out like long tides
over the snow
above my car
in front of my nose
with a pink sunrise in the rear view mirror

each new wave perked my cheeks higher
while the carols played
until I was broad-smiling in spite of myself
and had eyes with that "I know it's You" look in them

thank You
now, I will watch for Christmas gifts from You each day

I still caught myself for a moment, though, looking about in the car
for someone to point it out to

it seems my heart is not in a hurry to stop
wishing there was someone
here with "skin on"

to cuddle, snuggle, laugh, argue, wade the waters with

but for now, and for however long, You've said, "no"

not because I am
a failure
ugly, mean
loud, uncouth
selfish
unworthy

but because You have said, "no"
and that's enough to know

but You gave me starlings this morning
because You love me

and they thrilled my eyes and heart

so I will wait on You
to learn how to have
starlings
sunrises
music
snow
and You

cuddle me, snuggle me

because I do have skin.

What I was doing...

1. We had a guest come to do training and planning with the LT Team.
2. I made coffee and the guest had some, with cream and sugar, if you must know.
3. I offered him another cup, ("But Jim never has a second cup of coffee at home!") which he gladly accepted, but there was about an inch of the old stuff left in his mug.
4. I am lazy. I went outside to throw it out rather than walk to the kitchen.
5. It's all snowy out, and I did NOT want to make brown snow. I tried to carefully dump the coffee on the gravel you see.
   
6. I failed and splattered the entire contents on the wall. I ran back inside because the temps were like 3º F and I prayed it would all run down the wall and disappear.
7. I promptly forgot about it.
   
8. I came to the office the next day and as I opened the door I saw the brown splatter still firmly planted on the wall. Our International and U.S. Boards were in town and everyone had already arrived and walked past my Jackson Pollock coffee splat. Nice.
9. So, I am outside, in single digit temps but in a cozy cashmere sweater, with a pitcher of hot water, washing the wall free of my cream and sugar coffee art.
10. One of my coworkers found this hilarious and took a photo.
11. Thus, a blog post :)

And the winner is someone who did not post the answer (SUSAN D.!) but rather stopped me in the hallway and said cheerily, "I know what you were doing! I saw that big ol' stain out there yesterday...and somehow, even before you posted the picture, I knew the splatter was connected to you!" So, so true.

Do my pals know me, or what? :)

What is she doing now?

Here's a scene from my life at the office this morning:

A surprise Christmas gift to anyone who correctly guesses what I am doing out in the snow watering a thirsty wall!

Never a dull moment in my world...

Notes on A Week

Sucked:
Being sick this week and being here alone. I was the kind of sick where you can't leave the house 'cause you can't be far away from a particular porcelain-kinda room in the house.

There were hardly any groceries here and what was here was healthy and full of fiber and not going to help my body be any further away from that particular room. My sister-in-law wisely convinced me not to spend $10 on a delivery service to bring me white bread and bananas and applesauce, but to call a friend to rescue me. Hallelujah for Barb and Paul who came with two bags of groceries and in matching surgical masks :)

And, yes, for those of you who I told not to tell my mom I was sick, I realize I just posted it. You know very well that I can only keep my yap shut for a bit.

Rocked:
Being here tonight and seeing a commercial for Dark Chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Being suddenly intrigued, I pondered actually getting in the car and going to get a package, but it seemed a little silly. Silly and slightly irresponsible, considering my gastric system has only begun to return to reasonable functioning less than 24 hours ago.

I pondered for about 40 minutes, then thought, "This would be the fun kinda thing to run out and do if someone were here with me." Two seconds later, I asked Jesus if he wanted to go get some Reese's. A little giggle later, I realized he thought a decaf Americano from Starbucks would also be super. Also slightly irresponsible on a newly restored tummy, I thought, but common sense is highly overrated. So off we went into the cold and dark outside.

Guess what it was doing in the cold and dark in the shine of my headlights and the glow of the streetlights? SNOWING! Itty, bitty, pretty flakes! I started to laugh and cry and thank him all at once. It was like he brought me out to see snow that he had made just for me. Fun to drive in, fun to get chocolate in, fun to fetch a cup of coffee in...just for me and him. Little snowy smooches falling from the sky.

Thanks, Jesus :)

The Post That Will Make No Sense, Maybe

But I write anyway.

So, blah, blah, blah, three posts about husband-y thoughts and desires. True when they were written. True when I was pondering writing them.

Still true in a sense. But a shifting sense.

Been trying to listen to what God has in the way of a Slusser storyline these days. I can share my heart and what I think are my wants with him, but I would rather hear the story he's writing. He's a much better author than me.

Storyline? The call to singleness. Hmmm.

I am not saying there is a call for certain. But that thought, that idea, suddenly came to mind last night and it's not one normally in my head. It's not there mostly because I have never really understood what that actually means.

There's all kinds of opinions on whether you can even have a "call" to singleness, but suddenly some pieces of thought and insight have started to come together for me lately.

I have this sense to draw apart, and inward a little, from the crowds, and that it's just me and Jesus for life. But it's not a painful sense, or a completely exclusive sense like it has been at times in the past. It's tempered with a sense that I am to be available for community and fun and friendship as the moments roll by, but that my heart (the fuzzy wuzzy, girlie part and the majority of its depth) and some of my time is to be removed from the world and kept for him. This is different than times in the past when I have wanted to withdraw but I wanted to do it completely and in self-protection. It's always been an either/or before; I could be goofy, spazzy extroverted Kathie or I could be reclusive Kathie. This new sense is an availability to still be extroverted and care for people but to live more day-to-day in a mode of being in the quiet of my soul, just me alone, just his, just available for the next ministry opportunity.

It's different and interesting.

I think my ministry role is a bit unique (not entirely, just a bit). I am a woman who leads a team of men. I have one other woman on my staff. When I function in a broader role of leadership in my ministry work, I am always working with men. There is a sweetness about being single in this scenario; the men are in a mode of protection and care; they are guardian brothers. It makes the situation work. And I like the work and God has called me to it. I like being cared for and watched over by all those brothers. For some reason I can't quite put words to, I think this would be a bit different, and just maybe not as effective, if I were married.

Speaking of work, it is calling more and more and more every day, with increasing demands and needs. It could be miserable to have that, I suppose, but if I embrace it in my singleness, it actually speaks to a huge part of my heart that is called to do something about the suffering and pain of the world and knows that the real answer to create real change is Jesus Christ. I am incredibly blessed to have what I get to do for a living feed the cries of my heart.

And my life as a single has the flexibility to be available to answer those needs in full tilt. I can stay at the office until 9:00 on a Friday night and know that my closest love, Jesus, is with me in what needs to be done. And that he's invited me to that time with him.

Finally, lately, for the first time, I have felt the freedom to actually live like a single in my house. Surprised? For years I have had in the back of my mind that I need to live gently, a little tentatively, as I go because whatever I am doing might need to be adjusted in case I wind up married one day. Now, I am suddenly free to embrace sleeping wherever I want in my queen bed, rather than sticking to one side "in case I have to share someday". I am smacking the snooze bar as often as I want to, without guilt, instead of, "Be careful, you might not always be alone and this could be annoying to someone." I feel a sudden freedom to not learn to cook "just in case I need to care for someone one day".

And, yeah, intertwined with this is that God brought it back again to just me and him. Stef moved out, so it's me and Jesus and the house and my work and my friends.

So I am exploring what I think might be a call to singleness. Hmmm. We'll see.

The very fact that I am a bit sad and disappointed about this news, that this indeed might be my life calling, indicates to me that it's not just me making it up, and that I am not just looking for a "fix" or a definitive answer to the question about whether I am to be married or single (much as it is a giant part of my nature to dislike living in the unknown). I am doing it in honesty, with my desires available for him to change and my ears available to him to listen.

But there are other unknowns God's making me more comfortable with, like my ministry role in the coming year, so I feel confident that I am growing. My role doesn't get any clearer or easier or a better match to what I think my skill set is with each passing day, but my comfort with just showing up and being available to bring what I can and see what happens next is increasing.

Okay, for fun, to end all this seriousness, ya gotta read Surviving church as a single by Jon Acuff. Laughed OUT LOUD!

Numbers 5, 13, 15-19, and 39 are among my favs, but are certainly not the only points I would have earned! Tee-hee! Still giggling...

And lest anyone think...

that I typed the previous post in some deeply submitted, quietly obedient, sweetly reflective moment, let me admit that I POUNDED the hoo-ha out of the keyboard in my frustration for about half of the thing and submitted out of exhaustion for the rest of it.

I am not always as cooperative as I want to be. But I want to be cooperative. Does that count?

I guess Romans 7 is the answer about that :) Good to know I am not the first keyboard pounder. I can't help but think Paul was pounding the papyrus when he wrote it.

I love how The Message puts it:

^17-20But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.

^21-23It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge.

²⁴I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question?

²⁵The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different.

Know what's even better though? I REALLY love that Paul continues in Romans 8 with this almost-too-rich-to-bear news of grace:

^1-2With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ's being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.

^3-4God went for the jugular when he sent his own Son. He didn't deal with the problem as something remote and unimportant. In his Son, Jesus, he personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all. The law code, weakened as it always was by fractured human nature, could never have done that.

The law always ended up being used as a Band-Aid on sin instead of a deep healing of it. And now what the law code asked for but we couldn't deliver is accomplished as we, instead of redoubling our own efforts, simply embrace what the Spirit is doing in us.

Just makes ya take a deep breath, don't it? The truth of my identity, who I am and what I can do as Jesus Christ IN Kathie Slusser is there...His Spirit is IN me, able as I am not. That's truth.

Man, I love it.

And in all my wrestling and struggling with the tasks before me in ministry, my "fish in a cornfield" feeling as one teammate puts it, I am so grateful for what Becky put in the comments of the previous post; it deserves to be out here, just like I put it on paper in 48 point font to hang in front of my nose in my office cubicle:

"There's safety in complacency but God is calling us out of our comfort zone into a life of complete surrender to the cross. To live dangerously is not to live recklessly but righteously and it is because of God's radical grace for us that we can risk living a life of radical obedience for Him."

From Steve Camp song "Living Dangerously In the Hands of God" 1988

Someday I will be cooperative AND pretty doing it. It may not be until Heaven, I guess, but I like to think it can happen here. I look forward to that :)

All that said...

the reality of what I sense I have heard from God in the past month since that prayer was prayed and what I think it means at this time is this:

• I have a significant joy and release in being more of "me" before him.
• I have sensed that the desire for a husband is indeed mine, and not his for me, but it's not bad to have put the desire before him (a big step for me), and he'll continue to mold and shape me. He wanted me to ask, but made no specific promises about it. The biggest, best, never-failing promise is that I am his, his, his now and always, always, always.
  
• All those squishy little cuddly, autumn-enhanced feelings that I want to direct to someone, that desire that I always have to dote on some one special person, are to be taken to Jesus and I will learn to dote on him. He'll show me how he likes to be cherished, because he knows I really do long to cherish well, even when I am not good at it and I fall short.
  
• I long to embrace well what he has put before me, and what's actually before me is ministry work, my job. The coming year, if looked at from a purely human perspective, frightens the daylights out of me and frightens ulcers into my stomach lining. Not only is it a huge undertaking as LT continues to grow, but I am so UNBELIEVABLY out of my element and skill set, out of my comfort zone, that I want to faint dead away after crying for a few hours. (And if anyone tries to tell me that I am smarter or more talented than I think I am, I will scream; I am NOT making this up; I am stepping into things I have no idea how to DO.) I am clinging, clinging, clinging to Luke 9:10-17, and to the five loaves and two fish I currently have at my disposal. It's not nearly enough to feed the coming year, but I will pray to do what Jesus did: give thanks to God for what I have in my hands and start breaking the pieces up and handing them out. I pray that this time next year, I, we, my whole ministry team, will look around and see 12 baskets full of extra pieces of nourishment and provision and extravagance lying about us, evidence of his unmerited favor and grace and mercy.
• I am reminded that everyone--everyone--has an unfulfilled ache, a heartache that will take them back again and again to his throne, just where we most need to be. If it turns out that mine is not having a husband to walk the journey with, then so be it. At least I know what it is, and I know how to answer the questions about it, and I know where to run to get to God's deep, abiding oceans of love. I think the time in CA just really felt like this focused time of having to think about it and look at it because it's the one common question among everyone I meet with, especially new folks. And I confess that I am kind of like the fat kid who jokes about his own weight so it won't hurt when others tease him, so sometimes I bring it up first. A good pal on my team likened having such a zeroed-in, zoned-in time of having to talk about it to a guy he used to work with who was 6' 4". He said that every customer who came into the garden department where they worked together said something like, "Wow, how's the weather up there?" or some other remark about his height. Nicholas said to me, "You just got four weeks of 'How's the weather up there?' over and over again, a big concentrated dose." It's time to let that focus dissipate, and to embrace what is actually before me, even while God is aware of my request. Praises to him who is actually also aware of my real needs, and he will meet those in his perfect sovereignty.
  

And, yes, I am crying with my nose running at my desk, blowing my dripping snout like a bazooka in the office at 6:30 at night, thanking God there are so very few people lingering about to hear me. Sometimes truth is tough, but I don't want to live in anything else. I want to go where he goes and live as he asks, even when I also want to run the other way. I love you, Jesus.

The Rest O' The Story

Errghh. I haven't finished the story not because I don't have anything to say (although it has felt a bit like that at moments, after the initial flush of putting this out there; "Shut up!" my ego yells...), but rather, there feels like too much to say now. I am all over the place.

Anyway, I know I left a 16-year cliffhanger out there, so let me resolve that and give God thanks for bringing to light an agreement I made in 1993.

Short version: I had a friend who was miserable that she was not married. She was furious with God that she was still single in her early 30s. She was angry enough that it scared me. One day, watching her in a fit of fury at the Lord, I told God I didn't ever want to be that angry with him. I told him I wanted to be content in whatever life circumstances he brought me. In fact, I resolved to be content in whatever he brought me. Sounds holy enough, eh?

After having some experiences over the past couple of years with opening more of my heart to God, learning to be more honest before him, and having him begin to draw me into coming to him as I am rather than how I think I am to be, it dawned on me recently that the whole "resolved to be content in all things" efforts had become just that: my efforts. I had probably been doing it in my own strength for a long time. Not good.

Somewhere around Labor Day I started to wonder if that commitment I made was actually an agreement with the Enemy. I wondered if there were things I was not allowing to linger in my mind or heart because my commitment had, frankly, turned into a point of pride for me. I am content, I have been content, I will be content, no matter what. No wrestling with anything that comes along, because I don't need to; I am content!

I applied it very directly to the whole singleness/marriage thing, which was really convenient since it's the most repetitive question in my life from people I interact with. I must either be something amazing or people are just in the habit of asking the question(s) all the time: are you seeing someone, are you okay alone, how is it that someone hasn't just scooped you up yet?

Well, since I had decided long ago that I would be [make myself] content with whatever came, my answer for years has been, "If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. Whatever God wants is fine." As I have probably mentioned somewhere in some previous post, I had kind of embraced an automaton theology, where I thought the most obedient thing I could do was wait for the next set of directives from God; I need not, nor should not, have an opinion or preference or dream or desire. I was looking to just be obedient, which really meant perfect, not messing up anything he wanted with anything from me.

If you read this silly web thing, you know that the past several years, starting with my move to Idaho and including living alone and being away from my family and courtship with a Ugandan pastor and deeply desiring to have God meet needs in my heart that I couldn't keep quiet anymore has meant that I have had to allow God to change my theology and change my vision of who he is. He doesn't want an automaton; he wants relationship. He wants to know my heart and to let him shape it and to have every moment of me, not just the pretty Sunday school ones. Seems pretty elementary, I know, but there I am.

Thus, many things, including what I feel has been the Spirit lately asking, pressing, me to ask for what I want, led to thinking about my "commitment" to contentment when my pal asked if he could pray for me for a husband, when a conversation about love and marriage arose during a plane ride on Labor Day weekend, and when God led the talk that direction when I was visiting with a very special, dear friend just a couple of days after getting to California last month. And that pal, praise God, is not one to leave well enough alone :)

We started to pray about asking for things, about my commitment and whether it was really an agreement somehow with the Enemy, about my pride in having "stuck to it" when other people seemed needy; I was fine because I decided to be fine, and I had chosen contentment. I have survived and done well, and I have not been one of those pleading for something God might not bring or want me to have or might not think was best for me. I could always be right, because I couldn't be wrong if I didn't ask for something out loud and then it didn't come.

I still have this little vestige (okay, let's not discuss the exact size of it) of pride that doesn't want to need anything. I am not like the other girls; I am better. I can do it on my own, without putting life on hold, without being all clambering for a man, without looking about for something I don't already have.

There, I said it. Ugly, ain't it?

Liann likes to try to invite me to come down from my snooty perch and hang out with the rest of humanity sometimes :)

Errghh...I have a problem with vulnerability before God. I can't believe that for all the too-much-information spewing I seem to be perfectly capable of doing to strangers, I am still struggling with complete vulnerability before him. And being vulnerable means asking for things I believe I want but might not get.

Things I believe he has begun to stir my heart to long for, to desire, but still aren't a promise of what's to come. And since one of those things has been a desire for a husband, and I know that I can't do marriage perfectly (see, I am not a total snoot; I do know that I am loaded with flaws), I haven't known what to do with this "thing" of the Spirit seeming to press me to just ask like I mean it.

So, my pal Cindy and I prayed. And in the midst of it, Cindy said, "You know, God brings about a holy discontent at times, to move us to new things, to draw us in different directions, to lead us to desire the things of his heart that we have not encountered yet. Where has room been in your heart for his holy discontent?"

My sobbing answer: "Nowhere, because I vowed to never be discontent. I left no room for him to bring me new things, to tell me new stories, to make my heart listen to his heart. I made a commitment not to let anything change me!"

Sob, sob, sob.

So we prayed for release from that, for that vow to be undone, for forgiveness, for restoration by our perfect Jesus.

And I said it, and I say it: I would like to be married. I would like to share the journey. I would like someone to snuggle. I would like a Godly man with a sense of humor who can laugh at me and laugh at himself. I would like someone to walk with through the hard and the joyful and the ugly and the thrilling and the beautiful and the broken.

And, honestly, I would like someone who thinks I hung the moon, even though they know better. And I'll return the favor :)

When I told some old friends that I was horrified at the idea of "gifting someone with all of my miserable shortcomings", the husband, despite having a mouth full of food, could not contain himself. He cried, "No, no, no...that's the whole point! You bring that and he brings that, and it's all out there, and you love one another in spite of it all and work through it together. That's the whole point."

And more than ever, truly, I will be okay if it happens, and I will be okay if it doesn't. God has been so amazingly present and fulfilling the past several years in my life, I know he is enough.

But since I can ask, I'd like a friend who's more than a friend for the rest of the road :)

And the men are on the job...

Hi. No long apologies for not writing. I am supposed to be. I am not. It's a God thing that I am supposed to, I believe. Please pray for me to take the time to write.

But, now I know who is doing their job. The men are stepping into the gap. It's finally happened.

Okay, at least one dude has stepped in.

Doing what, you ask? Praying for a husband for me. I kid you not.

For several years, I have had women around the globe at work on this. Romania, Russia, the Philippines, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Lebanon, Uganda, Jordan, you name it. Even Idaho :)

Last week, a good friend and colleague quietly pulled me aside and said that the Lord had impressed upon him that he was to pray for a husband for me. He was pretty surprised, so he asked the Lord, "Should I ask her if she wants me to pray for that?" Yes, indeed, God told him to ask me about it.

I told him that I wasn't that surprised. I have had a sense lately that God has been waiting for me to say out loud that I would like a husband...and to say it calmly and trustingly and honestly. In the moments that I can eek it out, it's either like a grudgingly capitulated "Yes, fine." or a giggly, "Ok, hee hee, fine."

And why can I seem to only capitulate or eek? Well, turns out there's a story there. God has done an amazing work in my heart over the last two, almost three, years to draw my heart closer to his in honesty and intimacy. Time to admit that I am not at my best on my own, and to admit that I would like to share the journey with someone.

But there was still something in the way, something that happened 16 years ago. This past Monday, God brought it to light...

Chickens and Chickpeas

Markers in the day that eventually said, "GO HOME! NOW!"

• I squat down this morning in front of the little fridge in our department at work to put in my leftover sushi: *RIP* goes the seam in my jeans along my inner right thigh. Long rip. Mom told me to buy new jeans like seven months ago. Yeah. Whatever.
• I borrow safety pins from a pal on the other side of the building and nearly mangle myself in the bathroom trying to shove pins through a seam and some shredded fabric.
• The fix is better than nothing, especially after I trim away all the little straggly fabric shreds so it doesn't look like I am walking about with a Persian cat clinging to my inner thigh. And I know what jeans I want, and they cannot be purchased anywhere near the office, so THAT'S why I didn't go buy new ones, for those of you who are asking.
• Day mostly goes fine, though I can't recall if during an hour-long presentation I made if I stood in a ladylike manner or not to try to hide my safety pin surgery, especially since one of the pins had to go on the outside of the pants. Probably not: I usually stand like a bear wrestler, especially when I start to wax rhapsodic for a new, captive audience about the work we do. Ces't la vie.
• I leave the office at the end of day, going back and forth in my mind about what to do about dinner. Obviously, no Stef at home to cook tonight. I decide to run into Fred Meyer and grab some hummus and one of those handy, cooked whole chickens. I tour part of the store, grab cherries and a couple pink grapefruit, one red garnet yam, a container of hummus, and toward the chickens I head, then I'll be right next to the registers and away I can go.
• There are three chickies left. I have my hand-carry basket in one hand and reach for the chicken with the other. Just as I go to set it in the basket, the plastic dome pops off, the plastic base bends and caves, and there is a simultaneous drop of chicken and plastic into the basket and a shower all over my feet and the floor...grease from the container gushing over the basket and through it.
• I stand stupefied for a moment, wondering what wet thing was in my basket before it dawns on me that I just had a chicken grease hosing. I try to at least rectify the tilting, dripping chicken in my basket, and I get the experience of trying to grab a greased baby from its crib...no doing. I am looking about for bags, towels, something to do something, I don't even know what. I finally set the basket on the floor by the chicken case and walk to the self-checkout and look pleadingly at an employee who is approaching. "I need help, please," I tell her. She follows me and I show her my giant grease slick and explain myself. She says it's no problem and heads off to find someone, but is intercepted by that terrible alarm that happens when you try to leave the self-checkout area and you have something that has a security alarm in it, so she is waylaid rescuing some man who probably was not trying to shoplift, but gets the same alarm as the bad guys do. Poor man.
• I stand there for several more minutes, grateful that you can't see the grease spill like you could if it were chocolate milk or orange juice, but still aware that NO ONE hovers around the chicken case like this. Especially no one who keeps looking at the grease splatters on her tennis shoes while an escaped, dripping chicken lies atop grapefruit and hummus in her little basket. Trying to look slightly less tacky, I figure I should at least pick up the basket off the floor. I, that's right, forget the challenge of my pants from hours before, and I again assume the squat position in order to pick up the basket. What do I hear again, raging against the safety pins? *RIP*. I leap up in a panic, as though the safety pins have already blown their "safety" promise and suddenly become not-so-safe.
  
• Nice lady finally comes back and sets up a yellow "stay away" triangle on the floor, and she looks in my basket and says, "Okay, that's the chicken that fell on the floor?" as she is reaching for it. I tell her it only fell in my basket, and we have a quick exchange, with me saying I can still take it, and I feel badly, and she points out, no, no, it's fine, they'll take it. She goes to take it out of the basket and replicates my greased baby experience, with a few "whoa" moments of her own, but eventually decides she will win, grabs hard and takes it away. In the interim I smile at a nice lady with a cart and a small child in the front; she gives me the "been there, done that" chuckle. Employee lady returns quickly and I ask if there are paper towels anywhere, because my hands are an oil slick by now; she sends me to her counter. I come back, and she has given me a new basket and placed the fairly ungreased cherries and grapefruit in it, but has the dripping, lemon-pepper-grease-coated yam and hummus in the other hand. "You don't want these, do you?" I again say I am willing to pay for them, but she says, no, go get new ones. She is nice. I consider kissing her and decide I have already shot my weirdo points for the day. Instead I tell her I am headed to the deli to buy just one piece of chicken; it seems less dangerous. She laughs at me.
  
• I try to gather myself, and I go get one chicken breast, more hummus from the first spot I got it, and I check out some rice crackers and some organic cereal. I wind up near the cold case with a bunch of organic stuff in it. I look at some hummus they have in there and note the just over 2x price difference, and I also check out some soy cream cheese and sour cream, and decide not today. I figure my heart has calmed enough and they are far enough along in the clean up that I can just head out. So to the check stand I go.
• The drive home is safe (I decide to skip the Starbucks stop I was planning for some herbal tea--I just need to be DONE and get my tennis shoes in the washing machine and my pants into the trash) and I am already pondering posting about my clumsiness. I get home, get everything from work and the store into the house, and start to unload the two bags from Freddy's. And what's in there? BOTH freaking containers of hummus! The regular AND the organic! What the...? Clearly, I need to stay in for the rest of the evening. I am a danger to myself and others and chickens and chickpeas everywhere!

I Like That Boom Boom Pow

There are some things that still bring culture shock in Idaho. The Fourth of July is one of them.

You know those movies where almost every family on a quaint American street is lighting sparklers to celebrate the Fourth? Well, add fountains, flowers, and real, fly-into-the-air-and-burst-above-your-head-like-a-Dodger's-fireworks-show chrysanthemums, peonies, glitter palms, and rings, you have Idaho on our nation's Independence Day. (By the way, cool site for looking up firework names at NOVA: Name that Shell.)

Apparently there are actually county ordinances against such aerial fireworks outside of an official display, but you would never know it. I confess, it scares me a little, having been raised where just the sound of a firecracker was the signal to start packing for a forest fire evacuation, but I mostly giggle though the night up here.

I sat in the picturesque backyard of friends last night, having great food (including a s'more with a marshmallow perfectly toasted over their fire pit by Master Toaster Karin; never mind that I dropped the chocolate in the dirt while I was trying to catch the mallow on my graham; wipe the chocolate square on your jeans and you're good to go) and good conversation. Even while it's light out, there are the sounds of firecrackers pop-popping from the neighbors around us. As dusk arrives, the shows start. Yes, shows, as in if you stand in the front yard or sit on the back deck, you can look in the sky any direction you like and watch fireworks explode.

If you do choose to watch from the front of the house where you can see the streets and driveways nearby, you get the ground shows and the aerial shows together. Little kids running around with giant sparklers, fountains erupting, and the bigger kids and grown-ups lighting everything else.

I left the house just after 11:00 PM, and I giggled all the way home. Okay, maybe not all the way. Trying to get out of the subdivision was a little tricky. Literally every other driveway was filled with families in lawn chairs, people taking turns lighting stuff in the street. Thus, there were piles of ash to navigate, small children to avoid mowing down, and my favorite: a newly-lit, skittering flower placed in the road seconds before my car approached. Rather than have the little thing scoot under my car as I tried to drive past, I waited in the road until it died out and the kids scrambled to light another one.

The giggling did happen, though, for the remainder of the drive home, as I scanned the sky and watched happy explosions all over the place. The 30-minute drive was a hazy one, driving through all the post-firework smoke. It was like a fog had settled over the whole Treasure Valley for the evening.

At midnight, in went the earplugs for nighty-night, since it was still pretty boom-boom-pow outside. I gotta say, I like it here :)

Shifting the Weight

It's been a couple weeks of navigating tough things. Not tough things that are directly in my own life, but the challenges and heartbreaks and sadness of others. From people losing children to dark valleys in marriages to depression to hopelessness to people out of work to divorces to financial crises, about every day and a half or so a new weight on behalf of someone I care about deeply has come along. It has felt a bit surreal because, honestly, my life is a relative sea of calm at the moment. It isn't always like that, but it is for the moment.

I am taking the quiet in my life to pray and carry to the throne regularly these dear people I love. Each person that has been transparent with me has felt like a gift I was entrusted with by God to bring before him, seeking his healing and touch. The operative word in that last sentence would be "his".

Kathie's typical modus operandi: I am such a little fixer, helper, peacemaker. It comes from the part of me that likes the water smooth, that likes everyone happy and well. What can I do to make things better for you, eh? Of course, you want to be happy, but I want you to be happy, too, 'cause then I am happy. Get it?

Unfortunately, my M.O. tries to insert me into the middle of things I have no control over. I cannot make different decisions for people, heal deep hurts, bring extraordinary mercy, or provide inexplicable grace that allows people to navigate and even blossom in and after the worst things they can imagine actually happen to them.

And I cannot change the people around them, who love them so much, but, alas, often those closest to us understand us the least. I know I fall into this category sometimes, too. Well-intentioned people who want us to be safe and sane, who cannot always hear the way a so-not-safe-and-sane Jesus calls us to follow. And that following looks so very different from how our loved ones would do it.

I met with a man the other day who has an amazing story of how God has been calling, is calling, and is preparing the way for him to minister in India. He is a successful business owner. People he trusts and loves are saying things like, "But your business is what you're good at. God gave you success there. Why don't you just keep running your business and give to missions in India? Why don't you just use what God has given you already to fill this calling you feel?"

My heart broke when I heard him share this. I totally understand the concern, the hesitance, the struggle, from people you treasure and trust who do not hear a call the same way you do. And I can't find anything about God that calls us to follow in logical ways, so trying to explain to others what he whispers to you is so very hard. Can you picture each of the disciples explaining to their parents and employers the logical, safe, rational reasons that Jesus outlined to all of them when he called them to follow him?

I hope you can't, because from what I can see, no such thing happened.

He said, "Follow me." Not, "Follow my plan for you that will make sense to the world the moment you speak, the moment you act, the moment you demonstrate how you love me."

I cringe when I hear the phrase, "Why don't you just..."

God is not a god of just. Just enough provision, just enough hope, just enough grace, just so you feel comfortable, just so you aren't embarrassed, just so your loved ones aren't uncomfortable, just so everyone gets you.

He doesn't need people to get you. He longs for them to get Him. Watch for Him, see Him, need Him, be amazed by Him, be drawn to Him. To see in overabundance how he loves and provides for and cares for and transforms you. In ways that make no logical, safe, rational, outlined sense.

So, Kathie is praying, sympathizing, listening, but not fixing. And I pray that those people, those gifts of prayer needs that God has brought to me, are hearing, feeling, responding to the Spirit's call to not just follow, but to hurl the nets away and chase after Him in the draw of overabundance. And that the overabundance of love, healing, change, tenderness, reality, transparency, wholeness, and restoration touches sweetly all those people who observe the transformation in the ones they love.

Talk in Real Time

Seriously, I have writing I want to do. Crystal reminded me that it's good for the soul. I buy that.

But can I just say that it's been a treasure and a treat to have someone in the house to share dinner with (okay, eat the delicious dinner that they prepare and then bring my whack dish washing skills into play) and to talk with about good stuff? Talks with Stef are fun and insightful and warm.

I have been saying that if I had to share my house space again, it couldn't be with just anyone. It would have to be with someone who was more than a boarder, more than just another breathing presence.

I want to write, but for the moment I am using my evening time engaged in good laughter, music, tears, food, sweetness, and growth with a lovely housemate, who is so much more than just another body in the house. Stef is a blessing and a joy. So, thanks for the gift, Jesus.

Guess I'll have to start blogging from the office ;)

Things to Bloggy About

I do have things to bloggity blog. Happy things. Challenging things. Rich things.

Like the brain explosion I had after church on Sunday. A good kind, but explosion still. Fortunately, my new housemate, Stefanie, was here to help me manage the verbal spewage. But I bet you would have liked it if I had written it down instead :)

So maybe on a weekday evening I could blog?

But in this season, there are outside demands that are not here in winter. Like roses to be trimmed. Weeds to be pulled. Hollyhocks to watch grow. And the sun is up until 10:00 PM to allow me to do it.

So until I make myself sit and write, here are flower pictures from the yard that Stef took last week. Awfully purty, no?

Australian Eye Candy Party

In our continuing quest for fun flicks and good food, a few weeks ago my pals and I arrived at our most recent movie event. The conversation leading up to the fun, over the course of several days and various gals, went something like this...

"What are we doing for our next movie night?"

"Wait, you haven't seen Kate and Leopold?"

"Wait, you haven't seen X-Men?"

"Okay, then it's definitely a Hugh Jackman movie night. Sigh...eye candy."

"That's it! Eye Candy Movie Party!"

"You know we can't just eat candy for dinner, right? We tried that with the Elf party..." *shiver*

"So what do we eat? What do X-Men eat?"

"Wait! Hugh Jackman is Australian. Australian food!"

Thus...Australian Eye Candy movie night. Mock us not. You know you are sad you weren't here and that you had not thought of this brilliant concept.

A few Saturdays later it all came together. Folks wound up arriving at various times, so those of us in the first wave needed to nibble on something before dinner got underway. Thus, Kathie cleaned out her pantry and fridge of whatever random things she had.

Since the randomness included hummus, bruschetta, chips and salsa, and margaritas (there were celery sticks and cheese slices floating around, too), we decided to dub it The World Tour Prior to Arriving in Australia Appetizer Event. After we traveled to the Mediterranean, Italy, and Mexico, this was the decimation:



Apparently Aussies love their grills, so we found recipes for Australian steak, Australian barbecued meatloaf, and, of course, we had to have some shrimp on the barbie.



We had Koala Salad, as you can see :)



Bonni made bread from the recipe used at Outback Steakhouse. Yes, we know that they just give things Australian names there; we didn't care. Bonni meant to make mini loaves. She brought the dough and left it to rise in my very warm upstairs bonus room. When she went up to fetch them for the oven, we heard a squeal, followed by, "Hey! They aren't mini loaves any more...they're giant!" Here's what they expanded to in all their enthusiastic rising:



Bread came out delicious, Karin got a few of us hooked on Vegemite (okay, I can say that I am hooked--yum!), plus we had good Aussie wine and ale. Feast!



Then...in all it's delightful beauty and deliciousness, our Australian dessert: pavlova, or "pav", homemade by Stef. Can I just say that I have never liked meringue, no matter who made it or how it was delivered? Until I tasted Stefanie's meringue. Oh. My. Goodness. Then fill it with strawberries, kiwis, mangos, and whipped cream with passion fruit juice. Ohhhhhhh...



Here's the better of the two crowd shots I remembered to take. Don't whine, girls. The other pic is worse, with many more mouths just inches above their plates :)



And how did we handle the Eye Candy part of the evening? Well, first Karin scoured the Treasure Valley for gummi eyeballs or little chocolate eyeballs. Apparently those are Halloween fare only. So, in desperation, I stood in an aisle in Walgreen's trying to find candy to match our theme. Here's what came together in a flash of brilliance:



Get it? EXtra Dark chocolate for X-Men and since Hugh comes from back in time in Kate and Leopold, we have old fashioned candy.

Told you it was brilliant :)

And did you see that cutie holding the pavlova, Stefanie? She's gonna be my new roomie for a little while starting tomorrow! Whoo-hoo! I finally landed a chef in the house!

Cake and Ice Cream

All in one day. But not in my mouth.

I was asked to cut a chocolate cake and serve nine pieces during an office celebration yesterday. I made sure to flaunt my blue frosting fingers (which would normally be my blue frosting tongue) to Becky on the other side of the table and let her see me wipe the frosting on a napkin. Props to me.

Then I went to dinner at the home of my Idaho Nancy and her honey, and for them and two other friends at the table I scooped four bowls of ice cream. French vanilla and coffee almond fudge. And I passed them the hot fudge when they asked. I did take a deep whiff as it went by.

Again, I used the napkin. My doctor better be WAY proud of me when the time comes to report in.

I have been telling people that at least I have finally learned to work with my weaknesses. What am I? A people pleaser. So, to kick start some change, if I have an official monitor, someone I look up to and trust, I'll behave because I want them to be proud of me.

Maybe he'll be so proud he'll give me a Marie Callender's strawberry pie. 'Tis the season, you know.

There's no dairy at the moment, too. I only made one flub when Becky gave me gorgeous homemade lasagna that I had begged her for, fogetting that cheese hides in lasagna. Oh, well. I saved the rest in the freezer for some future delicious rendevouz :)

Oh, and to answer, "Why am I doing this?" Because I went to the doctor and said, "I'm 39 and 9 days old, and I have been on a birthday eating binge for over month, and I woke up this morning and parts of me are bumping into other parts of me that shouldn't be touching. I now give you full leave to talk to me about what I put in my mouth."

So, a nutritional analysis followed, and some baby steps until we meet again. In the words of Bob Wiley, "Baby step away from the Peeps..."

Mean

Just sayin'. That's me. Right now.

Without a ton of backstory or explanation (maybe later), just know that I am in the midst of day 5 sans caffeine or candy.

Grrrr.

Jaw set, teeth clenched, eyes squinted, sitting here at my desk.

Brain function? Feels practically nonexistent.

I hear it gets better and I will be smart again soon. (And don't say I wasn't smart before. I'm in no mood. Leave my delusions alone.)

Whatever.

Right now: mean.

Grrr. Rrr!

Happy Mommy Day, Mom!

Just a moment of appreciation for the Queen of Moms :)

Mommy and Daddy and Baby Kathie


Mommy and Daddy and Baby Michael


And now Grandma and the three monkeys.


I got to gush all about her to my pastor for a few minutes this morning. And I called and requested the two older monkey dudes to deliver a tackle hug on Aunt Kathie's behalf. I am so, so grateful to be her daughter. Thank you, Mom, for all the years you invested in us and for the precious friendship we have now. You are a GIFT! (And for Pete's sake, don't argue with me about it!)

Me and Mrs. Bird

Mrs. Robin Birdie outside the back door and I are having words. Her biological need to yell at me when I come outside and do something anywhere in the yard is not connecting with my reassuring explanations that I am not touching anything that belongs to her, namely her nest or eggs, and that I am actually bringing food out to the feeders. And, I tell her, she is not the only birdie in the yard, by the way.

Man, when she yells at me, it's like when you know your own mom's voice cutting through a crowd of strangers when you're being naughty; there's dozens of other birds nearby chattering away, but I can pick her out of the crowd and I know I am busted and she's letting me have it. Sheesh.

April wraps up tomorrow, and can I just say it's been a grand month? I had a birthday "intervention" and received strands of pearls from sweet friends, and got to wade in some ocean tides, wander amidst loads of flowers, hug my Mom on her birthday, kiss both my grandmothers, laugh at Wings with Liann like it was old times, watch Corrina yell at squirrels, slurp oysters with my dad, hang with Michael and Joanna, and get tackled by two nephews and a niece. I told my chiropractor that whatever being pounced on by two seven-year-olds and an almost-four-year-old cost me in my spinal alignment was more than made up for by the restored glow in my soul.

I had a mailbox and Facebook account overflowing with birthday love, and my own crock of cheese fondue yesterday at a special birthday lunch. Oh, fondue joy...

Plus, I got a great new straw hat. Now when I pull weeds in the yard and bop around to my new iPod, I look like the true crazy old lady in the neighborhood. Right on!












Thank you, Heavenly Father, for such dear friends and precious family. I am so, so blessed!

Wild Kingdom in My Yard

Lilac loveliness coming into beautiful bloom...



This happy little circular abode nestled between my rectangular porch lights...



Contains three little robin egg blue ovals...



Being guarded by one round bird with a plenty pointy beak.

(Pretend like my window is much cleaner than it appears! Pay no attention to the dirt behind the glass!)


Oh, and the hottest, busiest snack bar in town? My flowering cherry tree.



That's right: snack bar. If this arboreal restaurant had a name, it would be Zzzzzzz-bzzzzzz. All those spectacular flowers=lots of yummy pollen=WAY more bees in one place than I have ever personally experienced before. When you stand in front of the tree, it looks like it's shimmering a little because it has these halos of bees swirling around it, made up of individuals dallying with the flowers. It look like dance, nuzzle, dance.


I watch from a respectful distance, of course :)

Coherent, Schmoherent

I have lots of things to share. Each day. Things that are interesting or funny or poignant. To me, anyway.

Problem with posting? I am an English major. Writing must be well-constructed, worthy of my typing time, and have a beginning, middle and end. Things like exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and dénouement.

Okay, I know. It's just a blog. But I like all those words :)

I have made a few decisions in the past couple months about changes in myself and my approach to the world, so I guess this could be one, too. Short blog posts. Quick and dirty. Spurt words and ideas and happenings out there. Increased frequency, lessened pondering.

Here goes.

There's a robin's nest outside my back door. I discovered the nest when I got home from a trip week before last. I peeked out the back door and saw something flapping in the porch light. Just up to the left, carefully constructed above the porch light itself, was a nest obviously made from the weedy things in my backyard. Some of the longer weeds were making shadows and noise in the light and wind.

Poor robin mama. She had a nice long stretch of no one here while she built the thing, completely unaware that it was right outside the back door. Now, I have to go in and out of that door, which means she gets spooked, flies off, bird curses at me a bit, and waits a while before she comes back to the nest. Happens when I open the blinds or walk too near the glass in the door, too. Poor thing.

I peeked into the nest about a week ago (had to get step ladder) and saw two very blue eggs. I am guessing there are more now, and they are closer to hatching, because she is on the nest more consistently and doesn't take as long to come back after she flies off. I hope I have some baby birdies out there soon!

Speaking of baby animals, why is it so much more fun to say, "Baby duck!" really loudly, than "Duckling!"? And "Baby cow!" instead of "Calf!"?

One of life's little mysteries. Just like me :)

Timmy's Haiku

Regular visitors here know Timmy. His mom and dad, Lara and Marshall, are dear friends. They had to say goodbye to Timmy when he passed away in January, but the sweetest memories of Timmy are firmly planted in many hearts here, including mine.

When I spoke at Timmy's service, there was no way to list every single thing I treasured about him and my time with the Elfstrands. One that I didn't get a chance to mention, but that still makes me grin out of nowhere, is recalling waiting for Timmy during Lara's pregnancy, and the way we would catch up on how big Timmy was in her tummy.

I traveled frequently when Lara was expecting, on trips from two days to three weeks, and I would race to her desk when I returned to catch up on the latest baby news. Since almost everything I talk about revolves around food, of course the shorthand we began to use to talk about how big Timmy was growing, based on how far along Lara was in the pregnancy, was food-oriented.

Fruit-oriented, to be exact.

Lara sat behind a desk, just outside the president's office, that had a chest-high counter around it. After I got home from a trip, in my gentle, subtle way, I would race up and go slamming into the counter, drop my head over the edge, and peer down at Lara: "Orange?"

She would stare up at me and grin: "Tangerine."

So Timmy was big as a tangerine at that point. Cool.

Sometimes the exchange happened in the staff kitchen while Lara was calmly trying to make a cup of tea. I would careen around the corner, leap into the kitchen, eyes wide, and ask, "Cantaloupe?"

She would tilt her head a little, think a second, and smile. "Honeydew!"

Yeah!

Various exchanges of fruit and legume (in the itty bitty stage) happened like this. A round of applause, please, at this moment, for the fact that Lara never ordered a restraining order against me for being so crazy excited about their baby.

Thus, as you can predict, when Timmy finally arrived, I couldn't send a baby congratulations card like a normal person. Oh, no. I had to write some haiku.

Yes. About Timmy. And food :)

So, in honor of the smiles you still bring me, Timster, here's your haiku. Hope Jesus whispers it in your ears and makes you giggle. Your mom and dad still laugh hard at me. And it's one of the best sounds in the world.

Like marshmallow peeps
So ridiculously cute
That Elf Baby is

Chocolate sprinkles
Ah, so happy, so playful
Compare in no way

To his gumdrop nose
His shiny sugarplum eyes
His delicious smile

"Cuttin' capers puttin' papers in the bag..."

Gotta remember to try to sing this song more these days. Maybe it will make me think cleaning my house is fun.

Anything is possible.



Hope this makes Michael laugh; I think we used to do this dance in the family room sometimes :)

Why Do I Love It So Much?

I am almost 40 and this cartoon still makes me laugh out loud, squinch up my eyes in a little girl grin and say, "Ohhhh!", and wish I had a dog this heroic and sweet. Too cool.

And almost makes me wish I had a kitten. But not quite.



Looney Tunes can solve many things after a hectic day. Happy Wednesday, I say :)

Who's a Cookie?

Who knew?

If you bake brownies to take to a work dinner the next night, and you have to pull them in and out of the oven like four times to check them, head hovering over them, and then it takes you forever to cover the brownies with foil, head hovering over them some more...

and then you fall into bed later and wake up around 3:00 AM, not quite all there, you will groggily think...

"Mmrrmphh. Too hot. Too many blankets. And...what the heck? Why do I smell like a cookie?"


Of course, I am also the girl who, as she turned off the water in the shower this very morning, heard a "beep-beep" sound and, honest to goodness, the first thought in my head was, "There's a road runner in my house?"

Yeah, that was the start of the traffic report on the radio.

*sheepish grin*

Inspiration

Lisa's post this week is encouraging me to post about a few life transitions I am experiencing, too. Good ones. Interesting.

Rebekah's post is encouraging me to type out a beautiful, inspiring poem a friend (Miss Arnila the Amazing) gave me about a year ago, that is tacked up on the wall of my office.

The poem is easier to post tonight. So here. By Luci Shaw.

if you care for me

speak to me without words
in a spiral of starlings
thrown into a bank of wind, scarves
of an invisible dancer
making the sky a stage

Make a negligent gesture like
the drop of a chestnut at my feet
the glossy nucula bounding out of its spiky casing
rolling to me, a gift round
and brown as a chocolate cream

Caress me with a curtain of dew
on my moonlit skylight, or boulders
shining under their clear skin
of rain. In the rock garden
a crimson cosmos articulates
its bright, small world. Speak
to my eyes in syllables of light
and color, if you care for me

Remind me about space as
I watch the finches
peck at the wind in the balsams. The doe
cleaves the air current over
the ribbon of creek. The great
blue heron elbows it way up
through gaps wild with branches
and you are opening
for me, too, a new passage
between the trees

By the way you breathe dead leaves
into a small whirlwind of fire
show me, if you care for me, how you can
lift me from the dust,
light me like tinder

Hmmm. Looks like the poem leads nicely to talking about being lifted from the dust and lit like tinder. Hmmm. I'm kinda there over the past couple of weeks. Cool.

More later on Jesus and dust and tinder and passages through the trees.

Pinned

I said in the last post that I don't mind so much anymore being pinned to the mat in the wrestling match.

I don't mind, but that said, I'm not a chipper girl at the moment. Haven't been for a bit, and don't know when the chipper will come back, but whatever.

Without sounding like a broken record (is that possible?), I miss people. And for this moment, I want to say I miss my nephews. Hmmph.

I am watching National Geographic's Kingdom of the Blue Whale, and it occurs to me how much the boys would love this and it would be a ball to watch it with them. The heart tug is a little too much, so I flip the channel.

I land on some car commercial that shows little Cub Scouts making Pinewood Derby cars, which is what the boys were doing with Dad and Grandpa this past week. Big, fat help that was. Hmmmph.

It's not just missing people. I have fantastic friends here that God has provided and I AM SOOOOO GRATEFUL! Truly, truly. I have dear sisters and families here that make this place home now. I am not led to pack the car.

And I get to see them frequently. But it has to be scheduled, planned. We all have lives, commitments, work. You know the drill.

And, yes, I love my alone time, and yes, I know I am blessed to be single and free to serve God with my whole heart and life, and yes, I know I am fortunate not to be married to or living with someone who steals my joy, and yes, I know, I know, I know...

and I don't plan to run out and arrange my own fix or solution with either a human or a cat or a dog or a bird or a fish or any other creature that needs tending to...

but the truth remains...

I miss the serendipitous moments of someone treasured in the house or family down the street. I miss having someone to dote on. Someone who knows me thoroughly and loves me anyway, lets me shower them with ridiculous affection because I know them thoroughly, and they can stand 100% of me as me. I miss that as part of daily life, mornings and evenings, breakfast and grocery shopping and weed pulling and coffee sipping.

I knew it was good when I had it, the nearness of family, friends who had lived years and years of history with me, and a friend who was so much more than a roommate. It's no less painful now for the appreciation I had for it then.

I am not angry. I am fine. I am better than coping; I am growing and learning. But there is a hole in my heart. I don't think it's wrong. I agree with John Eldredge and plenty of others who don't believe that God satisfies our every whim, and in fact, most people who know Jesus intimately seem to have one thing that is a significant unmet desire, a longing that is unanswered. We never know how God will play out the longing in each person's life specifically (we are all uniquely fearfully and wonderfully created, after all!), and I have no idea what the rest of my life holds (you have NO IDEA how much I have no idea), but for now, in this phase, living as I do, it feels like the lesser version of me.

I know that's not the truth, though. So continue to listen, seek, and love my Jesus I will. He is enough. More than. He will meet me. He will continue to change me for the better and the more beautiful and the more satisfied and the more loving. For now, I am called to this moment as it is.

And I miss my boys.

Wrestling

Can I just pop in here to say that I am wrestling with a bunch of conflicting desires and wishes, having one of those stretches where I am being stretched and at moments feel I'll-do-anything cooperative and then downright heels-dug-in resistant? I could break it down into categories, and I may well do so in here at some point, but suffice to say I am a fussy girl these days.

The cool thing, I think, is that the fussiness is different than in years past. My trust level in Him is much higher. I know who wins the wrestling match, but I also know it's okay to wrestle. I didn't used to believe that. It felt like any engagement with God (or non-engagement and avoidance, in my case) about things I didn't care for or didn't understand was some deeply unholy lack of contentment and thus disobedient and evil. Now I believe that through the wrestling he shapes me. He still wins the match, but frankly, I want him to. His plans are ALWAYS better, and always have more love and joy interlaced into them than I deserve or would have arranged for myself.

Which is the other thing I am trying not to do: arrange things. If you want specific examples of how my impatience can manifest itself, go knock on Liann's blog (she could write a book), but I can at least tell you that I find it a challenge to sit in the fuzzy unknown, in desires that I don't know how to solve and that I can't seem to get to shut their yaps. I don't care if the indecision is solved with a less than exemplary choice; I just wanted it solved. I learned that about myself in college when my mom pointed out in a certain situation that it would not be wise to cut off my nose to spite my face just to have an issue that I was wrestling with settled. A very important conversation in the halls of Cal State San Bernardino that I never forgot.

So, I am not arranging my world. Or trying not to, at least. I catch myself taking matters out of his hands and into mine. No, no, no. Don't want that. No matter what, it's better back in his hands. Okay, here you go.

Still a wrestling match. But I don't mind being pinned so much anymore. His outcomes are written with a for love me I can't begin to plumb the depths of, so he's welcome to be the beautiful winner.