Reluctant Breakfast

From January 23, 2011 -- I am leaving it in present tense because that's how I pounded it out in the restaurant. And I'll just keep adding to finally post it tonight. So there.

Here's a first: Jesus wants to go to breakfast and I don't want to.

He wants to talk and I don't want to hear it.

It's the kind of thin-lipped, brow-scrunched, cheek-chewed morning that casts my memory back to the kicking and screaming I first did when He called me to start this blog. "You must be kidding: Because God said to put it out there ..." is not just a sassy little title I made up. I was mad, struggling with things that were too big for me, annoyed that my boat was rocking, and wanting to keep it bloody quiet, thank you very much. I'd say that I am ticked off all over again just thinking about it, but I think that's today's ticked-offedness roiling, not juice from five years ago.

It's been many, many weeks now that I have recognized an increasing tendency to let the noise and busyness of life be okay with me alongside a decreasing desire to hear deep things. I want to be efficiently surface shallow that I get lots of things done. I am more and more drawn to what my pal Amber calls "the siren call of suburbia". I want peace and quiet and simplicity and to do what I want when I want. In a cute little house.

It's been a stretching, tiring few years, and I think God has given me some sweet respite in there, where he said, "It's okay. Just be quiet and rest." And there were things I couldn't sort in my brain and it felt good to ignore them to some degree and say, "Too hard. Don't need to know. Yours, God, not mine."

And I don't think there's anything theologically wrong with that. In fact, it's probably the way to live with him if I could find the groove to stay in it. But I do think that I have let the brain vacation dally on more than was intended and I have become too content with making me cozy and allowed that in turn to blossom into an impatience to wait on God long enough to hear his voice instead of just the "not so bad" ideas and thoughts that well up from my lump of fatty brain mass.

An increased hunger for him combined with decreased patience on my part and an inability, and, frankly, a lack of desire, to quiet my soul and do the hard surrender that listening requires has left me here ...

desperately feeling the void in my soul and furious as heck that he wants to talk to me about it and maybe call me to things I don't want to hear about.

Mix that in with a current season of sensing consistent, loud condemnation in my heart and soul over just about everything connected with my work and ministry, which I know is not from him but is freaking loud right now, and you have a pretty ugly Sluss cocktail.

Which is why I am pondering locking this blog-thing down to invited readers only if I am supposed to get really honest out here. But then there's this out-loud, slightly shouting tussle I get into with God about why he says he wants me writing and putting all my blah-blah out there anyway. I am not pickin' up what he's puttin' down at the moment, if ya catch my drift.

All that to say, I was completely willing to turn down bacon in order to avoid breakfast with him. But go I did. We'll see what French toast and the Holy Spirit have to say about things in the long run.

Well, Merry Christmas! See ya back in Heaven!

One of the friends that it’s a hoot for me to post about but who is a bit shier than I am (read: has boundaries of appropriateness) has agreed to have a code name based on my post about aqua zumba; she’s the one who forgot her towel once and grabbed a blanket from her car instead.

Now, she’s Blanket Girl. And until she stops being an introvert, I’ll try to use her code name :)

Blanket Girl’s Christmas was different than mine. As we discussed all my goodies and what we were going to do with the P.F. Chang’s gift certificate burning a hole in my pocket and with that Disneyland Premium Annual Pass in my wallet and the iTunes gift card that was already uploaded into my account, she couldn’t contain herself anymore.

“Good grief! You are SO spoiled! Do you know what I opened on Christmas Day?”

“What? A belt? Bike clips? Deodorant? Toothpaste? Don’t act like you didn’t ask for all of those things. I know you did. Can we talk about why you want deodorant for Christmas?”

“You can always use deodorant and toothpaste. You can’t ever have too much. And, no, I didn’t get those things.”

“Then, what?”

“Sympathy cards. A box of them.”

“What the … ?”

She wasn't kidding. Mailed to her from family in another state (mind you, someone PAID to mail these to her), on Christmas Day she pulled from a merry box some angel accoutrement, and then, the capper …

Merry Christmas! Hope you get to use all twelve of these up this year and then we can send you another box with the new designs!

No matter how weird your Christmas was, you probably can’t lay claim to this level of crazy or “Whoops, didn’t read the box” scenario.

I think I’ll keep my homemade quilts, thanks :)

Where everybody knows your name …

Think watching Guy Fieri is fun? Me, too. Problem is, watching Triple D or anything else where he's eating or cooking just makes me want to EAT!

Happily, I caved in tonight and went to one of the places a few miles from my house where Guy's been for Diners, Drive-ins and Dives. You're jealous. Trust me. Mom and Dad have been there with me. They even wrote on the wall, it was so nummy. In fact, I texted Mom while I was there tonight to make sure she was jealous since I knew that would make dinner taste better ;) The first time Mom and I ate here, I had split pea soup; when they asked me how it was, I asked if they would mind if I moved in for the winter.

Rick's Press Room is in a fabulous spot I love in Meridian; my two favorite pizza places, my yarn shop, and Rick’s are all within yards of each other. I think of it as my happy block :)

To appreciate the total joy of the rest of my post, and to get hungry, take six minutes and watch this.

And, yes, that celery slaw is mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

Just going in the door makes me happy. Julie, Rick’s wife, greets you like she’s known you forever and learns your name and checks on you at all the right moments during dinner. She shared the special for tonight, but my mouth had been anticipating the salmon in potato since an hour before I left the office. Order up!

I smile through my spring salad and then that salmon arrives, cozy in its hash brown crunchiness, perched on a bed of mashed potatoes and julienned zucchini. And, oh, the sauce.

 

In the midst of this joy, Rick came out to greet me and see how I was doing! So nice! I like people who appreciate my enthusiastic gushing about tasty things :)

Next thing you know, things unabashedly look like this:

And next thing I know, Julie is walking up with this:

and says that Rick wants to buy me dessert. Truly?  Thank you and Yay Yay Yay for Sluss! I told Julie that the chocolate mousse cheesecake and I would be having a private moment at the table …

I was so full after this that I could feel it in my ears. No advice on whether that is good or bad, please. Just let me wallow and enjoy.

We chatted a bit before I left (Julie liked that I was texting my parents to make them jealous – tee hee!). I told her that I don’t need a neighborhood bar; I need a neighborhood restaurant that thinks it’s okay that I am drooly, gushing, over-appreciative food dork.

She thought that was great :)

Come have dinner with me, one and all!

Seventeen Degrees and an Older Face

Did you know I Aqua Zumba now? It’s quite entertaining from whichever side of the water you’re on. If you’re me in the pool, doing Latin dance moves and splashing about like a hopped-up, chubby Loch Ness Monster, you are entertained because you are the youngest person in the pool and, compared to the other ladies, you are lithe and smooth and full of woo-woo-fiesta-chlorine mojo. If you’re poolside, like all the people who wander in to check out whether they would like to join the gym and happen upon the tsunami that is uncoordinated ladies grooving and jiving in the water, I can’t think you would find it anything but “you’ll never believe what I saw” fodder for your friends later.

But there was no class for me tonight. On the way to my car after work, with the full intention of zipping over to the gym, I realized that I forgot to pack a towel this morning. I have a friend who forgot her towel once when she went to do her swim laps; she grabbed a blanket out of the car and used that.

Um, no.

There is no way in Hello Jell-O that I'm going to take a blanket in with me, and no way that I am going to try to use itty-bitty gym towels to dry off. It is 17° outside and my hair already makes icicles after class on the way back to the car even when the rest of me is dry. Home instead tonight!

On an additional entertainment note, I had a new passport photo taken today. My last was in 2001 when I was headed to Italy. I love that passport photo. I'm 40 pounds lighter, I have long BROWN hair, and, well, it's ten years ago. Today’s picture will not be 40 pounds lighter, will not have as much brown in my locks, and will find me pastier and laden with with wrinkles above and below and side to side. Could make one a bit bummed.

Then, of course, it made me giggle. And giggling transitioned to gratitude. My face reflects ten years of living a life I never imagined. It tells the story of leaving a job and students I loved, changing careers a couple of times, moving to a new state, and learning new things. There’s a groove in my forehead that I am sure I can attribute solely to the “focus furrow” that appeared as I learned to knit and purl last year.

My face in 2011 tells the story of new friendships, deepening old ones, and people to love and miss from places like Russia, Jordan, Lebanon, Kenya, Uganda, Romania, and Spain. It experienced an international courtship, a house sale, a house purchase and a refi, a zillion plane flights to California and back, invaluable talks with its mom and dad, and new nephews and a niece forcing it to make ridiculous maneuvers to entertain them.

It walked through the birth of friends’ children and the loss of friends’ children; it spoke at a funeral for 17-month-old. It said goodbye to a beloved grandfather and witnessed its niece arriving into the world, live and in person. It uttered encouraging words and it uttered hurtful words it wanted to suck back in moments later.

Most gratefully, this face learned, and is learning, to look to its Maker more, to bask in His radiance, and to trust His viewpoint and provision and goodness. And I heard Him whisper tonight on the way home when I glanced in the rearview mirror that my wrinkles make Him giggle, too.

It’s been a good decade, Face. I think I’ll keep ya :)

Start small, I guess.

If you haven’t been doing something for a while (oh, like exercising, eating veggies, cleaning your ears, whatever), I guess you should start small.

So here’s a bitty post :)

In fact, it’s a post I started in September, when my mom was still here for our lovely late-summer new habit of a visit for just us girls. When I looked at my blog today and saw this unfinished post from last year, I honestly laughed out loud. I just saw Linda (mentioned below and pictured below from our weekend visit) this past Saturday night for the first time in over two years and one of the first things she asked me was about why was I not blogging / when would I be blogging again. How cute that the last post I was in the midst of references her blog!

Thus, I bring you September 2010:

Well, between adjusting to some new sample contact lenses, ordering my first progressive lenses for a new pair of glasses yesterday, and my mom leaving tomorrow morning, I am a little woozy this morning. Add to that a special morning work perplexity (the kind that's not easily solved and has a critically close deadline ... I don't love those), and my next thought is, "It's only Tuesday?"

My pal Linda has been posting like the maniac for Jesus she is (hope she likes that description; it's a compliment!) and there is something in each share that I appreciate. This morning it was a post from her past weekend. I love how she describes a conversation a friend of hers, who is recovering from a stroke, had with Jesus about what she no longer has as she continues life in what feels like incomplete healing: "I don't have that anymore." God made her laugh and reminded her that there aren't any “its” she needs; she has Him. He is more than enough.

________________

Back to January 2011:

I think I started writing that post because there are a bunch of things I don’t have anymore, either. I certainly don’t feel like I have the smarts I once did, and my command over words, my one super power, is dribbling away like a melty ice cream cone. I sit there frequently with my mouth gaping, waiting for the right word to pop in so it can leap out to keep my story or my point moving. Mostly, drool just shows up instead.

Oh, and I apparently no longer have control over my facial muscles in my sleep. That drool thing began to kick into high gear on my pillow this year. Ewww! I have learned to scooch to the dry spot and faint away into sleep again.

But there are lots of things I DO have. The love of a faithful God to a frequently faithless girl. Friendships that keep getting better and better. Family that still laughs with me and at me (I need both kinds of chuckles!).

Grace to remember what I have and grace to celebrate what I don’t, please, Jesus! Amen!

48 Hours Out

Two days later, of course, the perspective is better. Maybe it helps that I messed with knitting much of the weekend. The string and sticks excitement even motivated me to do enough math to figure out a pattern of my own doing (kind of) for a stoll/shawl thing for the end of my Mom and Dad's bed to compliment the gorgeous quilt Joanna made for them last Christmas. Now I gotta see if I can get THIS done by the next Christmas ;)

Thanks for the kind and encouraging comments. It never ceases to amaze me that even when we know better or know "the facts", it's a tremendous blessing when people speak truth over us. Thank you.

Big breath for a new week. New mercies and "burning grace like rocket fuel". Every moment. Can't walk it without you, Lord. Not just, "I don't want to." I mean it: "I can't." Please be present in every breath.

Not Today

I just don't have it in me today.

Today, nothing fits me. Nothing that is being asked of me, of how I live and work, hangs comfortably on me. Today, it's all too big, too hard.

Today, I don't even know what could be asked of me that would feel like a fit. I can't remember what I am good at anymore. What might God have designed me for? I had answers a few years ago; not so much, now. I like being a cheerleader, rah-rah optimist, who makes people laugh and feel better. I like being nice to people (though I fully realize I do not always succeed in the attempts--sometimes I don't even attempt). What kind of productive career with an impact for God's Kingdom do you live out with those two desires?

Today, I don't have a clue.

Today, I am the "my every failure leads to another example of my failure" girl. Just a few days ago I was bragging (in that nice, "look what God has changed in me" kind of way) that I don't really live in the world of Kathie butt-kicking that I used to. Used to be, when I would catch myself in a mistake or a moment where I realized I could have been more Christ-like, I would spend far more time berating myself about my poor behavior than confessing and being renewed at the feet of my Savior.

Today feels like failure. It feels like years of failure with some of the same struggles, the same lack of growth, the same fears, the same selfish "why can't things just be the way I want?"

In a work discussion yesterday about potential changes and reprioritizing, a very caring person asked me if the new ideas and plans (compared to a different plan we once envisioned, neither one materially or inherently better than the other) made me feel like a failure at all ... in light of the changes and shifts, he was worried about me. The intent of the question was, without doubt, to make sure that I knew I was not viewed by anyone as a failure. I answered confidently, glibly, "No! I am grateful for this. Everything that has transpired has been in the kindness and wisdom of my Father."

Today, the answer's different. Though I know it's not true, my tired spirit cries out, "Sorry! I know I blew it!"

Today, I am sick of being shaped, reworked, molded, built up, refined. I want to be a lump of clay that's left alone in whatever color, shape, sheen, I already am. Something raw in me says, "ENOUGH already! NO MORE change! THANK YOU!" I want to be selfish, to curl up in the safety of Him and not be available to the world.

Today, I don't want to be used of Him, to be a valuable tool, to make a difference.

Today, I am not loving "learning to be imperfect" as my blog description so cheerily states. I want perfection, or something much closer to it. I am worn out with embracing the tripping, stumbling me. I want to be a girl that looks like she knows at least a speck of what she's doing.

Today, there is not enough of me to go around.

The great thing about being a girl and being 40 is that this may all well change tomorrow.

But today, this is the story. Good thing His mercies are new every morning. They'll be back.

The Godfather Was Here

Well, at least he would have been pleased to be here. We would have fed him well.

[P.S. Look away now, Corrina...pictures of food follow.]

Tonight's movie event was The Godfather and deeeee-licious Italian food. I invited the right people, I tell ya. We ate gorgeous yumminess!

Appetizers of Jen's insalata caprese, Barb's bruschetta and marinated mozarella, and Alissa's prosciutto e melone were heavenly.








Then we reveled in spaghetti and sausage (Pete Ferrara's red sauce recipe...kiss that man for me next time you see him) and Bonni's homemade lasagna.


And I can't believe we forgot to take pictures of the whole plate of cannoli and of Karin's homemade ice cream (peach and chocolate) and strawberry Italian ice, but here is the one cannolo that was left over...not for long, though!


All this tasty goodness was enjoyed with a Malbec, one each from Barb and Alissa. Man, that's happy stuff. And the label on the Cupcake Malbec is just adorable :)

Thanks for a great night, friends! And why can't we remember to take pictures of the people, too? We are as gorgeous as the food!

Know what's cool about being a grown-up?

(That's being a grown-up according to my age, not to be confused with acting like a grown-up. I know you know this.)

You can decide that doing perhaps two moderately productive things when you come home is plenty. Then you can eat dinner and chill. You need not be productive all evening, 'cause I am the grown-up who lives here and I say so.

Spray some weeds and wash out the bird bath. Done. Time to chill.

Trim a few rose bushes and tidy up the lawn of the rocks that trickled into the grass from the new river rock installed in the flower beds yesterday. Oh, and replace the filter in the heater/air conditioner unit. That's three things! Done. Time to chill.

Okay, there was a fourth thing: do a little shiver dance on the lawn when you find yet another little blue robin egg shell all broken into and empty. Directive to the big, mean birds around here: "STOP eating the little blue robin eggs! Sad!"

But back to my story...

Now, granted, this system may work as splendidly as it does because I don't have another grown-up or any small-ups demanding anything from me, but don't let any jealousy you may have ooze out. That's a mess I don't want to clean up. 'Cause it's time to chill ;)

There are those weeks of insanity crammed with other commitments, of course, 'tis true. But this current come-home-system is makin' me pretty happy!

I may have just now embraced this new approach as a result of years of being conditioned that summer means I should not be working, or because my mom just retired and is doing exhausting things like going to lunch with friends and Disneyland with my dad. My brain thinks IT should be on vacation (permanent or otherwise), too!

There is also a new freedom about some things. Somewhere I did a post (maybe it was Facebook) last year about giving in and hiring a yard guy/gardener and admitting my utter disinterest and painfully slow learning curve regarding my yard. I love looking at the thing, but I feel no draw to do anything to it.

What a brilliant decision. It was part of a list of things I committed at the beginning of this year to NOT doing: I do not have to make myself learn to cook, love to garden, or be a better housekeeper. I am a working girl. There you go. "Freedom!" I cry, in my best William Wallace voice!

So, two or three chores, then chill! Ooh...I bet a Sonic Blast would help that along...ooh...

Q&A from StoryCorps

Liann introduced her students to StoryCorps toward the end of the year, so I got to meet it, too. What a great site to wander through and listen to the stories that are captured there. Be prepared to laugh and to cry and to reflect.

This is the first animation that StoryCorps added to any of their collected stories. It's called "Q&A" and captures a 12-year-old with Asperger's syndrome interviewing his mom about being his parent. It's only four minutes, but be prepared to laugh and to cry and to reflect.

Hope it's a perk in your day :)

Q&A from StoryCorps on Vimeo.

The Ego Dance

That's "ego", not "Eggo". I am not a dancin' waffle. (Please read that in the voice of Donkey.)

There is both a bit of disappointment and joy in some life revelations. One of the more recent ones has been the reminder that we never stop being called to growth and change and further, further, further submission to Christ.

Obviously, I know this, but my ego really wants it the other way.

I want the list of achievements and benchmarks that say, "Well, boy howdy, Slusser sure has nailed that aspect of the Christian walk! Well done, girl! No more testin' on that there life challenge!" (I don't know why my voice suddenly went from Donkey to Stinky Pete, but there you have it.)

I know the life growth pattern is richer and deeper, but it's also harder. Can I tell you how horrifically naturally lazy I am? Oy.

So, that's my true confession to come to the spot where I say there is more joy in this particular revelation than disappointment. It gave me a moment's pause recently to listen to a wonderful speaker at our Family Conference who talked about how God, his heartbeat and dearest love, continues to stretch and grow him.

The speaker is 82.

He gets growing opportunities like his flight home with his 80-year-old wife, winding up sleeping in the Atlanta airport overnight because of flight delays. The airport shut down and there were no hotel rooms to be had.

I gotta tell ya, in my head I was like, "Whoa! Give that guy a break! Seriously? Oh, man!"

But I remember the tenderness with which he told the stories of the innumerable times God touched his heart, kept him safe, and rescued him. And I know I want that more than easy, more than benchmarks, more than an "Atta girl".

So, as I submit today and ask God to provide the things I can't make happen (prayer and financial support are this week's focus) and the things I shouldn't make happen without Him, I want to send my ego packing. Again.

And I will not kick my own backside about having to do it yet again.

Because I will still be doing it when I am 82. Lord willing :)

I try to be normal, truly.

I go to lunch like a normal person. I order normal food. I use normal utensils to cut normal bites. Okay, sometimes they are on the larger, more enthusiastic side, but still...today they were normal.

I do take better than normal people with me, mind you. Today I was treated to lunch by Miss Blee for my birthday (that's right...it's June and my b-day is still rockin'!). I promised to use her code name because of where the rest of this story goes. I am committed to the protection of the innocent. Even though she laughed when it happened.

I ordered a perfectly normal, lovely lunch of a petite sirloin, potato and broccoli. See how normal?

I cut a few bites of broccoli and chomp-chomp and all is well. What a nice lunch. What enjoyable company. Tra la la la la.

I go to cut another bite. Slight slip of the knife and fork. No worries; I still have all my fingers. And Blee still has all of hers.

So, slip of knife and fork...the bite of broccoli and the stalk I was cutting it from are still on the plate, but I did see something fly at me.

I glance at the napkin in my lap and see a bitty nubbin of broccoli which I clearly launched off my plate. Whew! It's in my lap! Safe!

But I am me, so I quickly think, "Not so fast, Sluss. Look down again." This time I glance at my shirt. Because if food does not land there, I can pretty much guarantee that it at least caromed off there. Yep. We have a winner.

Not only did the broccoli tidbit, which had bumped into the sightly oily sauce that was on my plate, smack me in the shirt, but it smacked me on the right side. Kind of far right. A significant, dark little circle strategically located on the most pronounced part of my right side.

Yes...I gave myself a "dot" right there. For Pete's sake. It was abundantly obvious, too. Blee chuckled heartily and recommend that I carry my purse on the right side as we left the restaurant. And as, Jennifer said when I stopped at her desk when I got back to the office, "Ha haa haa! Wow. I can't not look at it!"

Yep. I launched food off my plate and gave myself what I want to call a broccoli nipple. But Blee said it was too horrible to say. So I can't say it.

But now you know why she wanted her code name used in here. Jennifer and Bonni, though, I think are quite proud of me :)

And how did I manage the rest of the afternoon in the office, you ask? I keep a scarf in my office in case I feel chilly. Turns out it can also function as a fashionable drape across that third...um...dot.

In the meantime, my dreams of achieving a normal life will linger on...

Trying this from the iPod

Trying to do this from the iPod. Success?

Guess so! Sometimes it's more fun to snap out something while laying in bed on your tummy. This might make it possible :)

Had a most lovely morning at the BAM (Boise Art Museum) and lunch at Bardenay in downtown Boise with fun friends. Thanks for riches like that, Lord!

It was a lovely Friday to cap off two days of the MAF Family Conference and a chance to hear an encouraging speaker and eat too much and get dunked MORE than enough times in a dunk tank. Quite the two days, I tell ya :)

This evening was punctuated with laundry and trying to figure out why I can't seem to keep much in the fridge except condiments. And trying to decide if an addiction to giant green olives is a bad thing. I need to grow up. Maybe tomorrow!

Time to get back in here...

and do some typeity, typeity, typing! It's late tonight and time for bed (I need rest before my big dunk tank adventure tomorrow...oy!), but Cindy's little ditty on my Facebook page has been a sweet and funny reminder to get back in here. Plus, I had to send the blog link to Liz, now that she uses Google Reader, so I guess I better do something to make stuff show up :)

And it's a nice thought to leap back in here when I am in a happy place since it seems like I tend to turn here after long absences when things are crumbling in some way. That's not bad, but it should be fun to just see what God has in store for me to ramble about. Like responding to Linda's post about being on the inside. It's been interesting to think about that. Guess maybe that will be the next post!

Catch ya after the tank and when I am dry and warm again :)

Security

Okay, very briefly, and before the Ambien kicks in... I have been sitting in a conference all week that addresses significant security issues for the line of work I'm in, depending upon the countries in which you work. In fact, I am currently somewhere that, at least in this very metropolitan-seeming resort, blocks blogspot.com addresses.

One conversation led to another, and I suddenly felt like I wanted to lock down my blog. So I tried it. The process offered to let me invite people to sign up from a list of some of my contacts, but it certainly was not inclusive enough. So not everyone that I wanted to receive an invitation got one. And some who were probably thinking, "What makes you think I want to read your tripe?" did get invites. It's a broad audience out there, you know.

By today, I had calmed down a bit, so I am taking the restrictions off and am back to an open shop (and the world rejoices, no doubt). But I did realize there are some projects we (my work peeps and moi) are starting to participate in that will likely necessitate me locking this down at given moments depending upon what visas I need to apply for in the future. We'll navigate that when the time comes.

In the meantime, I hope I did not cause offense with either the lack of an invite or the intrusion of an unwanted invite.

Back to free flow drivel...or dribble, as the Ambien begins its work...

Obtuse

Yes, it's obtuse to work on a sermon/message for church about suffering and the different views of it from a Western perspective and a Global South perspective while you are eating dinner at Outback with a more-than-full meal in front of you.

And almost making yourself cry while you read and take notes and highlight and underscore when you are alone in a restaurant booth probably doesn't look all that bright.

But I am starting to embrace the not-so-bright part of me more and more. At least I want to. She is definitely the majority of my makeup, and I am tired of getting frustrated with her and kicking her around for hours or days. I like to think I am a real smarty pants, but when it comes down to it, I am blessed in some moments with a brain and the right words, but I just don't have any game to bring to the table without Him.

And I sure need Him for this Sunday. I need eight minutes of speaking (shared with three other folks with eight minutes each) where He says what He wants, not what I want, and where I am not aiming for people to be happy with me or proud of me, but where His will is accomplished.

And sometimes that requires me looking like an idiot. So I need to be ready and willing for that, too.

I dread speaking. I love being engaged with people and talking, but this speaking in front of groups makes me more and more nervous the older I get. I grew into this dislike; when I was a kid, I couldn't get myself in front of a group of people fast enough.

Now, I know what words can do, good and bad, and I know what my ego can do, which is always bad. Getting myself out of the way for Him to talk is quite the exhausting emptying process leading up to speaking engagements. Me no likey.

But I can tell He wants me to do it, so I show up. And that's one of the themes for 2010: just show up. He doesn't need me to be smart, to be perfect, to be the Swiss Army Knife of all answers and solutions at the ready. He apparently just needs me to show up empty of myself and wait for Him to start moving.

Wow. Just the opposite of my character. Shocker.

So I go to bed with a full belly tonight and I will wake up with Haiti on my mind and more places like it in my heart. Because I live where I read about suffering in restaurants, and I go to places where I visit want and come home to plenty, and I was born into a culture that thinks suffering should never be part of the life equation and thinks we are rich enough and smart enough to eradicate it.

Obtuse.

Kickboxing Math

Humiliation of walking for a bit of the class when everyone else (it seems like) is running < Humiliation of having to call ambulance due to potential of collapsing in panting, heaving, gasping, red-faced heap

No Ambulance = Good Kickboxing Class

Fear of ex-military instructor who could snap me in two though she is half my size > Longing to faint to ground and wallow in the Jell-o-y wad that is me = Obeying every command of "JAB!", "HOOK!", CROSS!", and "SIDEKICK!" no matter how I bob and sway and drip

I like Thursdays :)

Dross: Burn it up, Lord

Man, there is a lot of dross in here. My soul is messy and crowded with things that have no business in there. I want that junk out and I want it out now.

It feels more like, "I want them out," like there's a bunch of hooligans running amok. Little jerks.

"Out, wearying worries and useless tail-chasing! Out, old, worn thinking ruts and circular thought patterns! And I've got a stick I'll use on ya if you come back this way!"

I wish it worked like that. God seems in no hurry to turn things upside down and shake out the garbage all at once. Even if I get fed up with it all at once.

Instead I get practice sessions at being a new creation in Christ. And while I am confident that, in terms of salvation and being seated in the heavenlies, the whole "new creation" thing happened all at once, I believe that in terms of refining me in the flesh I still walk about in, it certainly did not. It appears that I have the opportunity in that sense to be a new creation every day.

Make that every hour.

Okay, every minute.

Maybe even every 3.8 second interval.

So I pray for the grace to continue to show up for practice. I have never been good at practicing anything, really. Flute, piano, softball (never even got the gumption up for tryouts, though I would pine every season to play). I want instant results now; as Liann has noted, I just don't play stuff I can't win, which seems to indicate a liking for minimal exertion on my part.

But I am starting to get the picture that stuff takes practice. And I am sick of the ugly in here, sick of drowning in dross. So practice it is.

In 3.8 second intervals. Over and over and over and over again.

Glad He never gets weary.

Grace: Gimme more, Lord

Dang. Getting PRACTICE (I don't call it "lessons" anymore) to grow my patience and grace every moment in my work, it seems. Gonna look like Stretch Armstrong by the end of 2010.

Dying to self. Dying to self. Dying to self.

Feels like this crazy combination of God putting me in situations to care about things it's hard to naturally care about (or that I don't think I should HAVE to care about), and letting things go that my heart naturally gravitates toward. Nothing on the compass that God is using on me at the moment feels natural. I don't LIKE IT!

There ya go, ye amongst you who demandeth Slusser posts. Not pretty right now!

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.