Monthly Archives: September 2004

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The Best Birthday Present

I’m in South Carolina this week, celebrating my birthday with my sister and her family.

I love my family! I love my sister!! We used to fight like crazy when we were kids. Only 3 1/2 years apart… maybe that was the problem… or at least part of it. We are very different in many ways. And yet so alike in others.

The deaths of mom and dad have pulled us much closer together. Where I used to lean on dad, or call him, I now call Nina — and visa versa. She and I have talked more, shared more intimately and really listened to each other more than we ever have in our lives. What an amazing gift she is too me! And all these years, I never even knew what I had. Until now.

Being born into this family is the greatest gift God could ever have given me. Dad, with his sense of humor, sense of honor, and strong, deep commitment to Jesus. Mom with her deep, spiritual connection to God, her love and passion for all people, her laughter and willingness to be driven to tears because of love. Paula, my oldest sister, 19 years older than me, with her strong values and commitment to live them out no matter what people think. Vic, my precious only brother, 16 years older than me, with his passion for life and drive to live it out with integrity. Nina, with her passion for people, her nurturing spirit and a heart always open and willing to love, no matter what it costs her.

Then there’s my brothers-in-law, my sister-in-law, my nieces (4) and nephews (3), even great-nieces (2) and great-nephews (3).

With out these people in my life, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I don’t know who I’d be, or what I’d look like… and frankly, at this point in my life, I don’t care.

I like who I am. I like who I am becoming. And I know I am blessed by God. His gift of family to me was the best, most amazing birthday gift I’ve ever gotten. I’ll be unwrapping it for the rest of my life.

Thank You, God!

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In Spirit with CBS – I Apolajize

In the spirit of the current media circus known as “Should CBS Apologize?” I must, in all good conscience, tender my own, full-fledged apology.

Through no fault of my own, and having been throughly deceived by my Dashbard wysiwyg editor, I am guilty of a blog full of spelling errors.

You see, I have a Mac. I love my Mac. Don’t even think about touching my Mac. I will hunt you down and hurt you. Just ask the last one who tried…. okay, so nobody’s tried yet… but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t take ’em on… and take ’em out… I’m powerful for my size, you know….

I also use Safari as my web brower. EBlogger says Macs are slightly supported by their wysiwyg editor. EBlogger also says Safari is slightly supported by their wysiwyg editor. The spell check is supposed to be one of those fully-functioning…functions… as it were… in the wysiwyg editor. However, in my last post I knew I had several spelling errors, yet the Spellcheck told me there were none.

Therefore, I cannot be held responsible in any way for the spelling errors found herein. In short, sirs, it’s not my fault. I was given false information… led down a primrose path…. trapped in a system not up to standard…. stop the madness, darn it! Spellcheck should be for everyone! I’ve been had by a left-wing conspiracy to make me look illiterate and un-spell-checkable…!

In conclusion, I would just like to state for the record that it was not my desire nor my intention to misrepresent the words mispelled in this blog. I cannot be held responsible for any injury incurred to them or to their usability.

Thank you for your continued support.

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In Dreams

I had the strangest dream this morning. I dreamt about two men I’ve never met, but had crushes on a various times in my life.

The most recent crush was getting married, and somehow I found myself at the wedding. My heart was breaking far more than I could believe as I watched the ceremony unfold and realized this man was now out of my grasp forever. It hurt so deeply I couldn’t breath. I felt like I would die from the ache, the longing. I watched closely to see the woman he had chosen. While not extraordinary, she was beautiful. But at the same time, rather normal. That is, she was a little overweight and, while she carried it well, her “rolls” could be seen.

He, however, was radiant. He seemed calmer, more contented than I’d ever seen him. It was obvious she was the woman he needed; the One he’d been looking for and was finally at peace now that he’d found.

I was filled with conflicting emotions. The aching still swelled deep within, but at the same time I felt very happy and pleased for him. He had found what all we singles long to find, and it showed in every corner of his countenance.

As the peaceful couple made their way out of our presence, the second man entered the picture. He’s one I hadn’t had a crush on in quite some time, though I still find him quite handsome and desirable. We were in a group, a “team” in a way, planning and coordinating some sort of event. As we went through the day, our relationship blossomed into quite a friendship, joking and talking and having a wonderful time connecting. The end of the day came and he gave each person a hug, including me! I realized I had made it into his “inner circle”. This man was my friend, and he counted me as one of his. I knew there would be nothing more than friendship, but that was more than enough for me; more than I’d ever thought possible. As we walked toward the doors, arms around each other, I felt so blessed.

This is the point where I woke up, the mixture of feelings still powerfully swirling within. Blessed. Aching. Left behind, and yet at the same time included.

Dreams are important to me. I’ve learned to pay close attention to them because so often I’ve found significant meaning in them. Granted, there are times when I just ate too many mangos, or watched something a little too weird for my mind to process in the cognitive realm, and thus I develop the equivalent of subconscious diarrhea.

But more often than not, my dreams betray the inner workings of my soul, my deeper, more powerful emotions trapped inside a heart afraid to feel. And more than that, they are also a playground, a blank canvas-wall on which God can paint His message loud and clear. That usually happens because I’ve been too busy, or stubborn, to hear Him in the waking world — or I’m just plain in stick-my-fingers-in-my-ears-I-can’t-hear-You! mode. I have examples of the latter, but I’ll save them for other posts.

This morning’s dream continues to intrigue and mystify me. Who, or what, I wonder, have I lost forever? It is my dad and mom? Am I finally reaching that point of “acceptance with joy” this loss that leaves a permanent aching hole in my heart? I am happy and pleased for them that they are now in the arms of their loving Lord. I know they’re at peace, contented having finally found what they were looking forward to for so long. And at the same time, I miss them with a pain and longing I never knew possible. Happy for them. Sad for me. Is this the “man” lost to me forever in my dream?

And who, or what, have I found? Is it Nashville? The team here? Or something else? I confess, I feel like I’m living a dream right now. I know reality will set in at some point. It always does. What seems like a dream eventually turns into at the least, “the daily grind”. Sometimes it turns into a nightmare. Please, God, I’ve had enough nightmares over the last couple years! Please let this one be a dream come true for at least a little longer… and transformed into nothing worse than “the daily grind.”

Of course, all this emotional melodrama my mind is currently running through may be nothing more than the after effects of watching too many episodes of “Stargate SG1” before going to bed….

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Home, Sweet Home…

I’m sitting here lounging in a camping chair in my own living room. Aaahhhh. How nice it is to finally have a home where I can unpack all my stuff and decorate from the ground up.

I’ve found that I share the place with a number of “Tennessee Critters”. Mostly spiders, but also a few other things I can’t quite identify yet. Learning curve’s in full throttle these days…. new weather patterns, new traffic patterns, new language — sheesh! definintely a new language — and yes, new bugs to learn as well. I had one particular bug I just could not figure out. He looked like a centipede, sort of… had that shape and all the bazillion legs. But his legs were much longer than a centipede’s. He moved pretty dang fast too.

The first night I met him, we had a little disagreement. I told him I’m the one paying rent. He told me he’d been here first. We finally agreed to go to our separate corners, me to my air mattress by the window, he to the back of my walk-in closet. Why didn’t I give him the boot right then, you ask? Well, I’ll tell ya. He kept to the top parts of the wall, very close to the crown molding and ceiling, and I just didn’t have anything tall enough to stand on where I could reach him and squash him flat. However, tonight he got brave… or stupid. Not sure which… He ventured down to the lower parts of the closet, and must’ve caught a quick ride on something I grabbed out because he came flying back toward the closet as fast as his multi-legs could carry him — and that was pretty dang fast, I tell you! He looked like just a black blur scampering across the carpet. Scared the be-jeebers outa me!

He came to a halt on the side of a large black Creative Memories tote bag. Even with the adreniline rushing through my body, I knew it was now or never. So I grabbed up one of my chunky-high-healed shoes, and, apologizing all the while, squished him like a bug…
which, of course he was…
a bug… that is…

Anyway… I left his remains strewn across the rug as a warning to other freeloading bugs: A new tenant’s in town, kickin’ butt and takin’ names.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I’m not, by nature, a violent person. Well, not entirely anyway. I generally try to find a way to co-habitate with all God’s creatures, no matter how weird-looking or many-legged they may be. Most of them serve a helpful purpose… though, I’m at times hard-pressed to figure out how helpful their purpose really is.

Mosquitos, for example. I just can’t help but wonder, “what in the world was God thinkin’ when he came up with them???” And flies… what’s that about? Were they part of the fall? You know, “all of creation groaning,” and all that…?? (see Romans 8 for more on this subject). ‘Cause frankly, I can’t quite figure out what flies are supposed to do, exactly. Perhaps they were just made as food for spiders.

I don’t mind spiders. Except for the fact that they seem to find me either tasty fare, or they just get pissed off at me during the night… Inevitably I end up with some doozy bites, and I can never figure out just when or where I got them. Sneaky little critters, spiders.

Bees. I hate bees. Talk about a necessary evil. They give us honey, which is good. I love honey. But they buzz around and sting us, which is bad. I hate being stung.

And then there are wasps… what was God thinkin’ there???? “Let’s just make these crazy carnivorous mean-and-nastys just to teach my people to remain calm in the face of angry danger.” …. or perhaps they are just part of the fall too. Maybe they were docile creatures before Eve took matters into her own hands. And now they’re just really pissed off at humans in general for messing up their garden.

At any rate, bees and wasps send me into orbit. I run yelling and flailing and generally making an idiot out of myself. I realize, as Nina has pointed out to me far too many times, that this just gets the bees and wasps all upset and more likely to sting me. Not to mention I look like an idiot, to the average passerby, running around flailing my arms and yelling. They can’t see the bullet-sized terrorist zooming after me, stinger armed, locked and loaded. Admittedly, remaining calm seems a much more logical thing to do — and especially brave in the face of such danger. But come on. Honetly, how many people actually think or act logically when in panick mode? I don’t think I can be blamed for my actions in these situations.

However, I did act quite calmy last week when a wasp found its way into Stan and Holly’s home (where I was staying until Friday) and I am still quite proud of myself for my actions. He was beating himself senseless against the glass of the back door. You could pratically here him saying, “Darn! I. Can. See. It. Right. There. Why. Can’t. I. Get. To. It?????” I was scared to swat at him, for fear he’d turn that dogged determination currently fixated on the the door on me instead. That’s more attention than I care to draw from a wasp.

So I grabbed up a clear plastic cup and a piece of cardboard, trapped him against the glass with the cup and slid the cardboard under it.

It was then I discovered up-close and personal what “madder than a wet hornet” really looks like. Oh boy, was he mad! And powerful too. He hit the cardboard and cup with such force at times I thought he’d knock it out of my hands. That’s why I just left the cup, still upside down out on the patio. Poor guy. I still can’t believe he didn’t knock himself silly hitting the cup with all that force. I finally felt guilty I’d left him trapped under that cup in the hot sun. So I went back out, quickly tipped the cup over — pointing it in the opposite direction from me!! — and ran like mad back into the house. I don’t know where he went, but I never saw him again. Hopefully he’s forgotten what I look like by now. And, given I’m so far south from Hendersonville now, I think I’m safe from retribution…. I hope. But I’ll sure be glad when fall arrives and the bees and wasps go to sleep for a while.

Oh, good grief. Another mulit-legged creature is making it’s way across my living room floor. I gotta go make an example of another Tennessee bug.

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Duh

Why is it the thought never occurs to me that others might not know what I’m talking about, or may not be tracking with me as my brain wanders all over the known — and sometimes unknown! — universe??

It’s not until someone says, “whaaaaahhh…..???” or, in some cases, “what the…???” that it dawns on me that the rest of the world doesn’t have access to my brain waves, ebbing and flowing as they do in their own crazy, unfathomable way. I truly do march to the beat of my own drummer… and she only seems to whail away in a frequency only my brain can read. So, of course no one eles hears her!

There are times when I review conversations in my head, as I’m driving home for example, and wonder, “did I make any sense to that person at all? ‘Cause I knew in my head what I was talking about, but… did the words actually make it from my brain to my mouth…?”

I guess that’s my biggest problem, really. I think in terms of concepts, processes, themes… You know, I see the whole picture in my mind, then try to have a conversation based on that picture…. Sometimes, often times!, I forget to describe the picture to those I’m talking with before I head off down the themes road. And the silliest thing of it is, I guess I’m just oblvious to the blank stares and “huh???” looks I get. ‘Cause I’m rarely derailed from my train of thought.

All this verbosity to say, I forgot to define in my last post what the SBC was… just assumed everyone in my life would get it.

Duh.

The SBC stands for Southern Baptist Convention…. sometimes it refers to a church, a group of churches, as in, “it’s an SBC — Southern Baptist Church.” Often overseas, and, it seems, also within the demonination itself, people will refer to our people as “SBs” — Southern Baptists. Mosaic, my church, is a member of the SBC, which may shock many of you… but it’s true. The mission agency through which I went overseas, the International Mission Board — IMB, for later reference — is a branch off the SBC, and one must be a member of an SBC church for about two years before qualifying to go overseas. So I couldn’t have gone overseas with them if Mosaic wasn’t SBC. Oh, and also as a reference Lifeway Book Stores and Lifeway Publishing, through which Beth Moore publishes all her books and studies, is also a “division” of the SBC…

…Was that TMI (Too Much Information)????

Anyway, the job I interviewed for is in an off-shoot/wing of the Southern Baptist Convention, and it’s called the Ethics and Religious Liberties Commission, ERLC. So if I go off on the ERLC in the future, refer back to the Duh, post for a definition… 🙂

Now I must leave my comfortable booth at Fido (a VERY cool coffee house here in Nashville), brave the rainy beginnings of tropical storm Ivan and head back over to the SBC offices for to take a few tests and such for the ERLC in the hopes that they may find favor with me and give me a J-O-B.

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Ch-ch-ch-changes

So much is happening, all at once. You know the old saying, “it never rains but it pours”… or how ’bout “either feast or famine”…? That’s my life. Yep. That’s it all over. I’m either in the middle of a drought, or in the middle of Hurricane France-Ivan-take-your-pick-or-all-at-once-yeah-why-not.

Last Tuesday I had the decision on the apartment made, and was finally at peace with the idea of living by myself for a while and not having a steady income for a bit. Wednesday God sent the hurricanes in the form of a two phone calls.

“Adria is coming down for the weekend to look for apartments. Turns out her living situation was only gonna be a temporary one… you two should get together.” I was late for an appointment and didn’t pick up John’s call. His message threw my mind and emotions into chaos. “I’ve finally made a decision, and made peace with solitude. What ARE you doing, God??”

It took nearly a day to quiet the cacophony coming from my heart and mind. But after talking with Adria over the phone, I realized just what a blessing God had just thrown into my life. It’s not that now I have someone to share a place with, or split the bills with, though those are added blessings. No, it’s Adria. That’s the blessing. Quiet, quick witted, intelligent, laid back. This girl is cool. And she’s got so much potential. I can’t wait to see what God does in and through her in the next year.

So, anyway…. just as I had begun to get things inside me quiet again, the second call came. “It’s Ben, I finally got a hold of the guy at the SBC. His situation is changed some and he now nees an assistant as well as a project coordinator, and he’s interested in talking with you. He’ll be calling you in the next day or so….”

I’d wondered if I really wanted to work for a Christian organization. And especially wondered if I’d really fit with true SBC-ers. I’m an urban girl. I may look all conservative and quiet on the outside, but my ideals and worldview, not to mention my attitude, are urban, and…. a little beyond postmodern, for lack of a better term. The SBC is just now catching on that the age of modernity is over. Putting me in the SBC is kinda like putting the Dixie Chicks in the Republican convention. Entertaining as heck, but not very productive. So I’d kinda written the whole possibility off… and with Kerry not responding to Ben’s calls and emails, I figured God had written it off too.

After a phone interview Friday morning and hour and a half face-to-face interview later that day, I walked out of the SBC headquarters with a request to freelance (temp) for this department for a while (see how we all fit together) in my pocket and a desire to work for this compelling, intriguing man in my heart. Don’t get excited. He’s married and I’m not interested in that way.

Every once in a while someone incredibly brilliant, talented and cutting edge crosses your path and you have to make the most of it when it comes. This guy is pushing, pulling and kicking the SBC into the 21st century, and into the arena of ideas, where the rest of the world lives. I’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to work with him, pick his brain, and learn from him. Besides, he’s fun to be around, he doesn’t seem to take himself or all the work stuff too seriously. A definite must for me in my work environment. I’ve had far too many bosses who take work too seriously, and I’m just too old for that kinda crap anymore.

So here I am, a week after I thought I had it all figured out and nothing is as I had thought it would be. Judge Amy Gray was right, life really is like water seeking it’s own level… life wants to be messy.

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Forgiveness and Peace

A painful occurence from last year has resurfaced.

A person I considered a friend hurt me deeply and basically kicked me out of her house. I decided to kick her out of my life. However, I never told her. Nor did I ever admit this to myself. No, after a few months of anger and a few more of just tears of pain, I concluded I was “over it”. It was in my past and I wasn’t looking back. I want to live in the future. Or at least in the moment. I’ve spent too many years looking backward. I don’t have many left. Let’s make these count.

But my dreams….my dreams. They betray me. They betray a heart still broken, still hurting. Still angry. Sometimes raging. And a spirit not at peace because there has been no resolution. And it’s on me. It’s all on me. It’s because of me the matter still remains unresolved. The door was slammed in my face. I was never really told why. I left. And never went back.

Not until today, when friends who love me spoke Truth — one in kick-a** style only he can get away with, and the other with the compassion only a friend of many years of enduring love can be capable of — only today was I willing to own up. To say, “I have not obeyed God. I have not done my part to, as much as possible, live at peace with this woman, as God asks me to in Romans 12:19.”

Over the last two years pain has layered upon pain, loss upon loss. Going overseas, leaving family, friends, and home behind. Team conflict, conflict with the leader, loneliness, home-sickness, feelings of incompetency created a landslide of negative thoughts and emotions. Then dad’s heart attack, his death, mom’s death, my team’s continued crumbling…. how much more could I take?

Nothing. Nothing more, was my heart’s determination. The next thing would be the straw that broke me.

That’s when it happened. Betrayal in a counseling session snowballed into stonewalling that ended with “you have to leave…”, a two-day deadline to get out and the declaration, “That’s not my problem.” when I said I had no where to go.

I was wrong. I had many places to go. God provided, as only He can, through loving friends and compassionate church family.

But now there was truly nothing left of me. I was just broken, jagged pieces. Shattered. Scattered.

Thank God. THANK GOD for being who He is. Loving, gracious, compassionate. He rescued me, held me in His grip, hid me in His chest, cradled me in HIs arms, and wiped ever tear from my cheeks.

I buried my anger, I ate my way through my pain, gaining 20 pounds along the way, and denied my responsibility to live at peace with everyone, as far as it is possible, even with this woman.

I admit it. I don’t want to forgive her. I don’t want to release her from the consequences of her actions and love her — which is how I best understand forgiveness. I HURT. Still, even today, the pain is there. And my mind screams, “It’s not fair! Someone should pay for this!”

How ugly my heart is! How can I call myself a follower of Jesus when I will not follow Him into places in others’ lives that He willingly traverses in mine every second of the day? When I will not forgive another for something less than He has forgiven me? When I will not take captive these thoughts that set themselves up against Jesus’ very reason for suffering the humiliation of the cross and replace them with the choice to forgive, release and live at peace?

This must be what Paul meant when he said, “Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin? Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord. So you see how it is: In my mind I really want to obey God’s law, but because of my sinful nature I am a slave to sin.” (Romans 7:24-25)

Yet he goes on to say (in chapter 8… who thought up these weird breaks in the Bible, anyway…??) that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (vs 1)… and furthermore, that we who have the Spirit of God living in us have power over the sinful nature… “So you should not be like cowering, fearful slaves. You should behave instead like God’s very own children, adopted into his family — calling him ‘Father, dear Father.’ For his Holy Spirit speaks to us deep in our hearts and tells us that we are God’s children. And since we are his children, we will share his treasures — for everything God gives to his Son, Christ, is ours, too.”

Father, help me! Help me obey You. Help me forgive Brenda.

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Playing the Wrong Game

There comes a point when I just gotta let things go and see what happens. Lay down the cards and just play.

I tend to shuffle and reshuffle my cards, thinking “one more shuffle will do it…” But just like Lay’s potato chips, one just isn’t ever enough. So I shuffle again. And again. Eventually people get tired of waiting and start chiding, then yelling at me to lay my cards down.

So it goes with my life. I keep driving around town, from this apartment complex to that neighborhood… thinking, “one more shuffle will do it…” But I’m tired. And I’m not finding any better deals than the one that is before me. The more I think about it, the more appealing it is. If for no other reason than to stop the shuffle-hunt and settle down for a hand.. or two… or five…

Oh, I’ll still spend the weekend checking out the other options. I can’t just quit shuffling that quickly….

But I think my mind’s already made up.

Now it’s time to let Jamie loose in the space and watch in wonder as the Whirlwind creates beauty out of mediocrity. Amazing. God truly does reveal Himself through our creativity. And in Jamie-creator-designer I see Him so clearly. The joy He has in flinging stars into place, the excitement in planning and designing beautiful sunsets, the fun of stirring up storms. God is definitely a boy… I mean, come on. Loud noises, big flashes, dinosaurs… Hel-lo! All Boy.

I guess that also explains my life. God being, well, God. Creating, designing, stirring up storms and watching in all with wonder, joy and excitement only He could have, or understand.

I look at it from here and think, “One more shuffle… now, what ARE you doing??”, but He looks on it and thinks, “wait, just wait…. Here comes the good part. Here it is! Ooooo, isn’t that just sooo cool!!!” He doesn’t even yell at me to stop shuffling and lay down my cards. Just turns my head in the direction of His latest whirlwind of beauty.

I don’t think we’re playing the same game.