A New Kind of Different

Today, I love Jesus.

Of course, I love Jesus everyday, but I am not always as aware of it as I am today.  Nothing brilliant and super spiritual happened today, I didn’t wake up to rays of sunshine on my face or birds chirping along to a Disney song.  In fact, I woke up in a rather odd mood.  Just as the day moved on I realized more and more that my heart was filled and that I love Jesus.  He has done so much, not just for me, but for everyone.  “By His wounds, we are healed.”  Every lash that had ripped open His flesh and exposed his muscle and bone has allowed a way to suture my broken heart, my ripped wounds left by others and by my own self.  I love Him for that. 

As I said before, nothing extremely great happened that sent me on a spiritual high, in fact, everything is rather plain and ordinary and somewhat bordering on boring.  All day I have been thinking about where this sudden sense of love has come from and how I can get it to stay.  It made me think about a question that was asked of me awhile ago.  A question about having joy even in the midst of trial, anger, and tragedy.  How do we do it?  How do we have that feeling of joy, the joy of the Lord, when we are hurting, angry, frustrated, wounded, stressed out, and overwhelmed?  At the time when I was asked that question, I didn’t have a solid answer.  I still don’t, but I have a slight grasp.  I think the biggest part of understanding joy is moving past the definition of it being a feeling.  You cannot feel joy while you are feeling anger.  Maybe it isn’t a feeling, maybe it is a commitment.  Like love.  You love someone even when you are furious at them because love is more than a feeling, it is a promise.  Same with joy.  You can commit yourself to having the joy of the Lord even while you are suffering the greatest pain.  Because joy is more than a feeling. 

I was talking to an old friend this weekend and he was talking about his walk and how he had recently made a commitment to God.  As he was talking about it, he said something that totally struck me, as simple as it was.  He said that God takes commitment very seriously.  If you commit something to the Lord, no matter what it is, you had better be ready to stick to it.  No matter what happens.  It made me think of all the commitments I have broken, all the things I have promised to give to Him.  Just this month with Lent I had given Him something and so far, each day, I have gone back on that promise.  I committed my love to Him, my soul to Him, my life to Him.  How many times have I taken those things away?  How many times have I selfishly broke those things in which I had committed?  Yes.  The Lord takes commitment very seriously, and not just comittments made to Him.  All ccommitments.  Commitments to other people, to my job, to my passions, to my goals, and to myself.  It is time I start taking it seriously, too.

Oh yeah, did I mention that I love Jesus?  And better yet…He loves me

The other night my friend shared a Bible verse with me.  It echoed something that she is going through, but one part of this verse has sat with me for the last couple of days, tugging at my heart and opening my eyes just a little wider. 

“Your hand is heavy upon me, despite my groanings”

I can’t remember the exact verse, but those are the words that have been replaying in my thoughts.  I’m the type of person who needs to paint a picture and tell a story in order to somewhat comprehend the full meaning of things and apply it to my life. Let me paint this one for you.

In this story there is only black and white and shades of gray.  I am standing at a graveside, staring numbly into the deep hole, suffering a great loss.  A loss of someone or something I loved deeply.  My only thoughts are how much I do not want to be in this moment, how much I just want to run away from it all.  As these thoughts are spinning, all energy leaves me and I feel like I’m going to collapse under the weight of my pain.  And the thought of that, of just giving up, feels so welcoming.  Suddenly, a hand falls heavy upon my shoulder.  It is holding me up, holding me still even though I would rather fall or run away, or anything else except be in front of that grave facing that loss.  I grow very frustrated at this heavy hand and start to complain about it’s presence on my shoulder, willing it to let me move on from this place, but knowing I can’t until it is done.  Then I realize something.  As much as it sucks to be held still in the only place I do not want to be, I feel relief that the hand is there.  There supporting me, comforting me, strengthening me, bracing me, loving me.  Telling me that I am not alone at this graveside.  Telling me that someone is there for the long haul, however long it takes to complete a work within me. 

The graveside could be anything.  Whatever situation that is so overwhelming and so oppressing.  No matter how much you scream and struggle and try to move on, the heavy hand of the Father keeps you there in order to complete a work within you, until He and only He deems you ready to move on.  It sucks.  It hurts.  Tears flow, hearts break, souls shatter.  But that heavy hand is not a cold, spiteful hand.  It is a hand that molds and shapes to your shoulder, a hand that warms and squeezes in comfort, and hand that wills it’s strength into you, braces you, and never leaves your side as long as it is necessary to be in that place, at that graveside.  It is the hand of a Father.

Peppermint hot cocoa, check.  Christmas music, check.  A night filled with holiday excitement and the beginnings of Christmas cheer, check check!

I don’t know what it is about this time of year, but it makes me extremely happy.  It just seems that the world turns into a nicer place.  Everything looks so magical and wonderful all lit up and sparkling.  It creates a feeling that you’ve stepped out of the cold hard world you live in everyday and have entered this alternate universe where peoples faces glow brilliant with awe and smiles, where warmth is abundant even in the dead of winter, and where everything becomes softer. 

My favorite thing about this wonderland are the lights.  I don’t know why or how, but something about them draws me in.  I could stare at them for hours, mushing the colors together by blurring my vision and then re-focusing them back to clarity.  They make me very nostalgic and thoughtful, excited and content.  Now that I think about it, they bring the same thoughts and feelings to me as when I stare at the stars.  Stars are so amazing in the light that they posses.  Tiny placements of our Father’s love and care for us.  Maybe that is why I love lights so much…because they are as close as I can get to the twinkling lights in the heavens. 

Here’s to the beginning of the most wonderful time of the year!!

     It has been more or less 6 months since I have graduated and moved home from college.  So much has happened in that 6 months, and as I look back at it, I can’t believe that this is my life.  Looking back, a big part of me regrets ever coming home, knowing what I know now about what I was stepping into.  Everything was good where I was.  I had just graduated (a major achievement), I had great friends, a fun job that I looked forward to, and most importantly, I had predictability.  I knew where I was going, what and who was going to be there, and in that I could be safe.

     Since coming home, I haven’t had this.  Not only having the common “I have no idea where my life is headed” mentality that most college graduates experience, but also have the most stable and grounded part of your life fall apart, you can imagine what that leaves you with.  Suddenly, within the course of a month, my parents were separated, I had no place to call a home, my lifetime understanding of who some people were and what they stood for was nothing short of demolished, I lost a dear family member through a long struggle with cancer, I didn’t have the stability of a job with set hours and pay, and I was left standing in this whirlwind trying to figure out what was going to happen next.    

     As I said before, sometimes part of me regrets ever coming home.  But, an even bigger part has no regrets and makes no excuses.  I may have stepped into chaos, but I was never alone, from the beginning to now to the end I have had and will have the blessing of true friendships that have supported me through all of this.  I don’t even have the words to even express a fraction of how grateful I am for you, my support, my family.  There have been so many times when I have been so close to the edge of falling apart and then one of you would do something so small and seemingly insignificant and it would bring me back.  Just a smile, an e-mail, a text message, a hug, a cup of tea and cookies, a conversation over g-mail, a walk, a cup of coffee.  You guys are amazing and have become the safe place that I had lost.  I truly, truly, truly see God at work in my life just from the sheer presence of you.  He had provided for me by providing you and there is nothing that would have kept me from moving home, knowing what I know now.  

     So to you, my friends, I want to say thank you from deepest part of my heart.  The part that never changes with fickle emotion, the part that is uneffected by drama and wishful thinking, the part that is true, sincere, and genuine, the part that will be forever grateful and hold you for as long as it is beating.  The best part.  I love you all….

Thank you!

     Okay, so, funny story.  I had recently met a pretty good-looking, pretty nice guy.  My grandma (for those of you who know about her, you won’t be surprised by this) found out that this guy that I had met was good-looking.  So when I woke up this morning she questioned me about it.  I went on to tell her that, although this guy is nice to look at, he had this “Bachelor for Life” mentality about him.  A different girl every night, the totally souped up car with the state of the art stereo system, the wide rims, fat tires, the body kit, and the speed that would put any car to shame.  I was telling my grandma that that is totally unattractive to me.  She looked at me perplexed for a minute and said, “Hmm…sounds like the man I was dating last year.  The hot new BMW convertable (the souped up hot rod for the older generation), the loud stereo, and a different girl in every port…”  I just laughed because I know the history of this relationship and shook my head and said, “Bachelor for life Grandma, bachelor for life.” 

     So I continued on my morning routine, and she came back and said she had a funny story to tell me.  She told me that when she met her first husband he drove this hot little car (shame on me for forgetting the name!) and they used to go driving around in it and had a good time.  Well, that marriage didn’t last long, but when she met my Grandpa, he drove a Pinto!  And they were married for a long time. 

     So the difference between a Viper and a Pinto?  A bachelor for life and a family man.  So I’m grossly exaggerating here, but it might have a certain truth to it: be careful what you drive.  Women: men with hot cars may not exactly be interested in marriage.  Men: women attracted to your hot car may not be inclined to nest building. 

Hmm, I feel a psychological study coming on….

www.brookefraser.com

www.myspace.com/brookefraser

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brooke_fraser

“Arithmetic”

I’ve been staring at the sky tonight
Marvelling and passing time
Wondering what to do with daylight
Until I can make you mine
You are the one I want, you are the one I want

I’ve been thinking of changing my mind
It never stays the same for long
But of all the things I know for sure
You’re the only certain one
You are the one I want, you are the one I want

I’ve been counting up all my wrongs
One sorry for each star
See I’d apologise my way to you
If the heavens stretched that far
You are the one I want, you are the one I want

[Chorus]
I won’t find what I am looking for
If I only “see” by keeping score
‘Cos I know now you are so much more than arithmetic

‘Cos if I add, if I subtract
If I give it all, try to take some back
I’ve forgotten the freedom that comes from the fact
That you are the sum
So you are the one
I want

When the years are showing on my face
And my strongest days are gone
When my heart and flesh depart this place
From a life that sung your song

You’ll still be the one I want

You’ll still be the one I want

You’ll still be the one I want

You’ll still be the one I want

Brooke Fraser is nothing short of an AMAZING artist!  Not only does she have a beautiful voice and musical talent, but she posses the uncommon talent of writing lyrics that grip the soul.  Her passion comes alive through her words, which is what makes a great artist great.  She is a Christian and this comes out in most of her songs.  And she is on Wikipedia…and we all know how I feel about Wikipedia (I just might name my first child after it, it is so amazing!).

The song posted above, “Arithmetic,” is one of my favorites.  My favorite line is ”I’ve been counting up all my wrongs, one sorry for each star.  See I’d apologize my way to you, if the heavens stretched that far.”  WOW!  It just reminds me of how we can’t keep score with God.  It doesn’t matter how much or how little we do, His love doesn’t change and neither do His expectations.  All we need to do is live a life that sings His song.  Easier said than done, of course, but much easier than keeping up with the mathematical equation of a life full of mistakes and humanity.  And it’s a good excuse for my arithmetic ineptitude.  So for all of you out there who question my struggling math skills, I say to you: I am not bad at math, just good at faith 

Post Secret by Frank Warren

“Share a Secret

You are invited to anonymously contribute a secret to a group art project.  Your secret can be a regret, fear, betrayal, desire, confession or childhood humiliation.  Reveal anything- as long as it is true and you have never shared it with anyone before.

Steps: Take a postcard, or two.  Tell your secrect anonymously.  Stamp and mail the postcard.

Tips: Be brief- the fewer words the better.  Be legible- use big, clear and bold lettering.  Be creative- let the postcard be your canvas.

 Mail to: PostSecret 11345 Copper Ridge Rd. Germantown, Maryland 20874″

These are the instructions that were handed out to thousands of people…the response: overwhelming.  I happened upon this book in the bookstore at the beginning of summer.  It gripped my heart and I couldn’t keep from looking at in.  In the book are the printed postcards that thousands of people used to tell their secrets.  Some of the secrets were so heart wrenching.  What a burden it must have been to keep that in and not tell anyone. 

It got me thinking.  All of these people out there, full of secrets, not being able to tell anyone but so desperately wanting to let it out and let it go.  My question: why is it so hard to find someone we can trust with our secrets?  Someone who will not judge, someone who will not try to fix it, someone who will do their absolute best to understand the circumstances, someone who will recognize the pain in our eyes when our tounges are unable to articulate, someone who will be silent with us.  Or rather, why can’t we trust those who are willing to be and do all of these things?

“Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

Ahhh…my knight in shining armor!  Do you think if I get a white horse, my knight will come?  Sorta like a Field of Dreams thing…if I buy it, he will come in all of his shining shiny-ness?  But then does that mean that he’ll be invisible to everyone but me?  Hmm….something to ponder.

Anyways, I was thinking about this whole “chivalry” thing.  All us girls get around to talking about it just about every time we get around to talking.  “Chivalry is dead.”  Well, I finally decided that before I make this claim, I had better understand what exactly this “chivalry” thing is.  Enter Wikipedia:

Medieval chivalry is most easily defined when broken up into three basic but overlapping areas: 

 1.   Chivalry in relation to countrymen and fellow Christians: this contains virtues such as mercy, courage, valor, fairness, protection of the weak and the poor, and in the servant-hood of the knight to his lord. This also brings with it the idea of being willing to give one’s life for another’s; whether he would be giving his life for a poor man or his lord.

2.Chivalry in relation to God: this would contain being faithful to God, protecting the innocent, being faithful to the church, being the champion of good against evil, being generous and obeying God above the feudal lord.

3. Chivalry in relation to women: this is probably the most familiar aspect of chivalry. This would contain what is often called courtly love , the idea that the knight is to serve a lady, and after her all other ladies. Most especially in this category is a general gentleness and graciousness to all women.

Man, I love Wikipedia.  I would say that this is something worth being.  And, of course, it would be easy to say that this is how men should be. Period.  And that is a good thought, and a great suggestion.  But in just taking the basics out of what it means to be “chivalrous”: Be loyal.  Be honest.  Be kind.  Love God.  Love others.  Love life - I think it is something we all should strive for, men and women alike.

I really think that this is my favorite season!  It used to be something different and for the life of me I cannot remember ever loving any other time more than this one.  I love the cold crisp days of fall where you can go for a walk outside all bundled up and thousands of leaves fall around you.  On the sunny days the trees almost glow, like they are trying to light up the world.  There is something very serene and beatiful and magical about that.  I know, you are all probably thinking about how crazy I am that I get soooo excited about this.  No apologies here, though.  I definitely feel sorry for the people who cannot indulge in the simple pleasure of creation.  Man, what it takes to make some people happy.  If the beauty in the world cannot do it, I fear nothing will…and for that, I am sorry. 

Okay, so Jason invited me on to this wordpress thing.  I told him I didn’t know what to write.  He said “C’mon, you’re a girl, you have plenty to say.”  I asked him what in the world did I have to write about.  He said, “Sparkles and Butterflies.”  Thanks for the vote of confidence in my intelligence, bro.

P.S.~ you know me too well…