Do You Ever...

Do you ever have one of those weeks where you wish you would have just listened, spoke less, tried harder, paid more attention, prayed first, been intentional, stopped saying “should have” and “what if,” stopped second-guessing what you said or wrote, felt comfortable in your own skin, liked the person you are, knew what you truly stand for, knew what you truly believe, knew if you're being honest with yourself, that your intentions are true, why your heart aches so intensely, why you don't follow through when you say, “I want to learn how to (fill in the blank),” or “hey, let's get together soon,” wonder how many “if onlys” you'll leave behind in this life, try to justify something you did that you know was wrong, squander your progress?

Thank you, God, for giving me grace and hope.

What Nature Means To Me

The evidence of God, Jesus, Mary, the cross, religion, was evident pretty much everywhere we went in Italy on our vacation this summer. It is majestic, absolutely stunning, beyond anything I could imagine, and boy have I dreamed of Italy. It's surreal. I'm still processing I had the opportunity to stand in these historic places, before these wondrous pieces of art, in the Sistine Chapel under Michelangelo's ceiling... I am genuinely grateful for this opportunity of a lifetime.

And though I saw evidence of God in possibly every nook and cranny, where I felt Him, where my heart just swelled in wonder and my eyes filled with tears, was in the beauty of nature seen on the rolling hills of a vineyard, hills covered by grapes and olive trees, rose bushes used as a natural herbicide, the towers of a little city atop a hill in the distance, hazy blue skies and white puffy clouds, the wind blowing my hair and skirt, white cows, the smell of earth, manure, and hay, seeing field after field of sunflowers.

Nicaragua, it now dawns on me, stole my heart for its simplicity, the exotic sounds heard in the early morning hours of birds whose beauty I could only imagine, the howls of dogs, chattering insects, rain on the church's tin roof, the lushness of nature and the human kindness encountered at every turn.

And for me, that's the way I connect with God best.

MY Plans? Really?!

Okay, so not in my plans for Nicaragua was participating in the women's study group (insert God's chuckle here). I avoided that part of our team meetings leading up to the trip. Not interested. I'm newer to my faith and spirituality (when is that excuse not an excuse anymore?) and helping someone with a women's group intimidates me.

Well, the woman leading that group, Jen, and I started chatting on the first night in Nic about our faith journeys and continued to do so sporadically throughout the next couple days. Tuesday, the first day of her gathering, over 50 women attended. It was astonishing. There weren't church bulletins or reminders in the weeks leading up to the day; there was just an announcement two days before at church and a couple posters on the doorways.

Jen approached me that Tuesday night, asking me if I would tell my faith story the next day. I asked if she wanted the rated G version or R. She said whatever I wanted to tell. She felt it was important to just be real with these women. Over the last year I have had the opportunity to share my story a couple times (rated G and R), and each time it brings healing. So why not? I was actually excited, no nerves – yet.

I did get scared about an hour before. I started to doubt myself – would I say the right things, what if I offended someone - the junk in my trunk that I will work on for the rest of my life. I like to write what I'm going to say because I can edit, edit, edit. Thankfully, two friends appeared and reminded me God would provide the right words, and they prayed for my nerves to disappear (insert God's patient sigh).

Participating with the women's group is what I will cherish most from this trip. After I told my story and was asked some questions, these women from Nicaragua and from my church gathered around and laid their hands on me and started praying in Spanish. So surreal. Then we were hugging and crying.

Afterward a woman approached me and said she had connected with my story, and she will be praying for me. Praying for me? I'm still processing and having trouble articulating what this means to me. With all the poverty and sexual abuse and oppression they suffer down there, I'm overwhelmed with all the love given so freely (insert God's “I told you so”). These are the faces of Jesus.

By the way, if you ever hear words coming out of my mouth that start with “my plans” and not followed up with “but I'm rolling with it,” please grab the nearest 2-by-4 and knock me over the head.

Duck, Duck, Goose

So when I signed up for this mission trip to Nicaragua, I had certain ideas/thoughts about what might happen. Don't get me wrong, I felt pretty open about it. My friend Heather and I wanted to be the vagabundas on the trip, the ones who would help where help was needed, but my intent was to play with the kids as much as possible.

One of the things I didn't anticipate was freezing up as the children came through the door the first morning. In that moment it hit me how much I depend on language, talking, to connect with my 2nd through 4th graders on Sundays. I froze. I turned to my friend Morris in a panic and told him I have no idea what my role on this trip is going to be now that it won't be with the kids. I was crushed. Two minutes later I heard the words “pato, pato, GANSO!”, duck, duck, GOOSE. I was in. I sat down on the floor and from then on I was experiencing Heaven on earth on this trip. I tear up just thinking about how much I fell in love with these kids at that moment.
And it's not that I want to bring them home with me. I met some of their moms. They love their children. It's the ache that I want to see them every Sunday like I see my boys and girls here every Sunday. I don't want to wait a year and miss how much they grow, miss the huge - and I mean huge - hugs and many kisses they eagerly and freely give no matter how soaked you are with sweat. I would gently pull away, point at myself and pinch my nose and wave my hand, saying “oooh, stinky.” The darlings would pull me back in and just squeeze me tighter.

Mariposa (butterfly) kisses were a huge hit, eliciting lots of giggles, as well as finger twirls, two girls at a time twirling like ballerinas. My heart is overwhelmed with how much I miss them already. We were only there six days, but these six days were so intense with emotion that it felt like two weeks.

There are so many more stories to share, how it surpassed my wildest dreams and imaginations, so I hope you will tune in as I process this life-changing experience I had the opportunity to participate in. I only hope my words can express an inkling of the emotion I feel in my overflowing heart.

Jealousy

Our family dynamics have shifted in the last couple years, but they seem to have been more pronounced this last school year. My son is shifting to the other side; that is, he's not hangin' with his mama so much anymore. It's all about his dad. I could always count on a snuggle, calling out to me first with some new idea he wanted to share, the ever familiar “Hey, Mom, guess what...”

An example that comes to mind is what I experience when the three of us go to the movies. As a little guy, he would turn to me when something was funny to share the laugh; or if he was scared, he would grab my hand (or even end up in my lap!). Now it's my husband he turns to first for the laugh or excitement or surprise. And this may seem pouty, but sometimes he doesn't even turn to share it with me at all.

What I am clinging to when my feelings are hurt during this period of change is that this father-son relationship is shaping my son into the man he will become. My son informed me, “Because this man will craft this man.” I do find comfort in that statement. I'm going to work on cherishing the memories of the little boy who favored his mama and be ever so grateful that he has this awesome role model in his life.

My Husband's New Best Friend

I've been working on my priorities over the last year and a half since I quit my job, which required a substantial change in my spending habits. My small group spent the entire year of '08 studying a book called "Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth" by Richard Foster. The month of February was spent on Simplifying, which was incredibly timely since I had quit my job the month before. I was the next-thing-will-make-me-happy kind of gal; everything from new clothes, the diamond ring for our tenth anniversary, new furniture, decorating the house, ad nauseum. Vacations were spent anticipating the next day's plans. To put it simply, a lack of contentment.

I've felt life change in my spirituality. My discontent is shifting. I mentioned it to my husband recently in passing. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Do you remember when I used to want that big diamond ring and kitchen table and new clothes, addiction to shoes, purses, watches (yada yada yada)?
Him: Oh, yeah.
Me: Well, I just don't feel that as much anymore. Jesus is filling that hole now (with a chuckle).
Him: Well, then Jesus is my new best friend.

Joy Stealer

My pound dog Tish growled at me the other day. I was stunned. We've had her for over a year. With my family of three, she is overly submissive. You come near her and she rolls on her back just waiting for a good rubbing. She's so needy for attention. We're her fourth home. Her bottom teeth are missing. She quickly dominated the lab we've raised since she was puppy with the food and our attention. Tish has had a rough life. Occasionally our fence gate is left open. Hallie, our lab, jets out and disappears off into wonderland. Tish? She lounges on the deck. To me it seems she's thinking, "Hallie, dude, you have no clue what it's like out there. Now this, this is the good life."
Cesar Millan, Dog Whisperer, miracle worker, emphasizes the need for walking your dog half an hour in the morning and 45 minutes in the evening. Helps to wipe out bad behavior. So much of what he says sets off light bulbs, "duh moments." Tune in. It's amazing stuff.
Well, I started the morning walk with Tish to calm some of this neediness. It tends to be overpowering. It had been ten mornings in a row and this dog craves it, anticipates it every day. Each morning she bolts for the door, wagging wildly, jumping, knocking into walls. On day 11, there just wasn't enough time to fit it in. On day 12, morning came and still no time. By late afternoon she was out of her mind. My son and I were ready to walk out the door again without her, and she promptly let us know enough was enough. She blocked the door. I called her to go in her room. (She is normally very content to hang out with the other dog in this room while we're gone.) She trotted near the room and bolted right back for the door. I called her again, same response, as if to say, "Listen, lady, I need my time here." I found her collar under her mass of fur and gently pulled her toward the room. She didn't budge. She hunched into the ground. I pulled a little harder. She growled at me! I proceeded to get behind her to pick her up. She's 65 pounds. Huffing and puffing, I lifted the front part of her body and dragged her, back legs resisting, to the room.
I took Tish for her walk this morning. She was overjoyed as we headed for the door. She's been so content ever since that walk. I stole her joy those last two days. I'm wondering what is my one joy that I could take each day that would set the tone to help me live a more contented, joyful, peaceful, kinder day. I've learned from Tish this is worth fighting for.