Category Archives: Living The Dream

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Together

I don’t mean to say that I have already achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection! But I keep working toward that day when I will finally be all that Christ Jesus saved me for and wants me to be. No, dear brothers and sisters, I am still not all I should be, but I am focusing all my energies on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us up to heaven. — Phil 3:12-14

This morning I sat on my balcony and took some time to breathe. To inhale deeply of God. It’s been far too long since I did that.

As I sat and watched some beautiful birds flit around the trees, some fighting and vying for the best branches or favorite perches, God and I talked a little about the direction of my life.

I have no idea where I’m going. I don’t know how the bills are going to be paid. It seems that every time I think I see a light signaling the end of this long dark tunnel I’m in, that light ends up being a mirage. Something else pops up. The road takes a sudden dive and we’re back down in the darkness, exploring the deeper recesses of life.

God sat beside me, patted my hand, pressed His thumb to my forehead, as He so often does and assured me He is here.

As I contemplated whether life was for the “hereafter”, as Paul seems to be looking forward to, or for the “today”, I looked at God and said, “I want healing now. I want to follow You now. I want to know what you want me to do, where to work and how to get through the days now.

I heard Him whisper, “My healing is for now, and for the future. My salvation is now, and in the future. I inhabit Today, and every one of the Tomorrows. But I don’t work backwards. Yesterday and all the other days that have gone before it, I don’t live there anymore.

“Don’t live in the past, My sweet child. Don’t look back. Don’t look back in regret. Don’t look back in sorrow that the best has come and gone. Don’t look back. I’m not there anymore. I’m here. And We, you and I, will get through this. Together.

Press on, My baby. My Beloved Bride. You and I will have that Wedding. And between now and then, there will be so much We will do. Together.

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Love’s Recovery

during the time of which I speak
it was hard to turn the other cheek
to the blows of insecurity.
feeding the cancer of my intellect
the blood of love, soon neglected,
lay dying in the strength of its impurity.

Have you ever had a time in your life where you felt beat down by another’s insecurities? Felt captive to  a cancer that slowly ate away at your sense of self, sense of value and desireable-ness? You watch helplessly as the love in your heart just shrivels up and dies. Your love for yourself, your love for others, perhaps even your love for God. Life seems to unravel at it’s seams… you unravel along with it. Slowly, like rush hour traffic on the 405, your life devolves into a brutal fight for survival. Survival of your own soul. And it doesn’t matter who gets hurt in your attempt to live.

meanwhile the friends we thought were so together
they’ve all gone and left each other
in search of fairer weather

we sit here in our storm and
drink a toast to the slim chance of
love’s recovery

A year of my life was spent in that kind of hell. Life started out like a dream… a budding romance, with flowers, amazing dates and all the excitement and newness of getting to know a new lover. Then the blows began…  I ignored the first few, thinking surely my new lover didn’t mean to hurt me. It was a mistake, an aberration… But the blows didn’t quit. My new lover was insecure.

They were all insecure. I don’t know who started it, or how it all began. And frankly, I don’t care anymore. I just know I walked into what I thought was going to be a great new adventure, and instead found myself in the middle of a mess. A battlefield where neither side trusted me and no one was secure enough in their own selves to know whether they really wanted me on their "side."

It got harder and harder to turn the other cheek to the blows of another’s insecurity… not to mention the blows of my own insecurity that followed each of their blows. I had no where to go. No sanctuary from the arrows that flew. I tried to embrace the reality. Tried to keep my head in the midst of the insanity of battle. But I slid on the all the blood… and fell.

I found myself nearly drowning in a sea of red. Their blood, my blood — it all mixed together. It’s amazing how on a battlefield, you can’t tell the difference between the blood of your "side" and the blood of the "others".

there I am in younger days, stargazing
painting picture-perfect maps
of how my life and love would be.
not counting the unmarked paths of misdirection,
my compass, faith in love’s perfection,
I missed a million miles of road I should’ve seen.

A black cancer grew deep within my soul. A cancer that fed on confusion, frustration, insecurity and unmet expectation. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be! This wasn’t the way I’d imagined giving my life away for Jesus would look. I didn’t understand why God would allow me to walk blindly into this mess. I cried out to Him.

He answered and met me. Deep intimacy followed. His roots dug deep into my soul, into places I never knew existed, into places I never knew He could reach. His roots took hold — somehow finding rich soil, how I don’t know… or perhaps He created the rich soil as He went… His roots took hold and have never let go. Never. Not even when I hacked at them in my panicked attempts to survive.

Yet the cancer grew. Months passed. Then suddenly confusion and frustration gave way to anger. Embers fanned. Flames burst forth. Clarity… I was a fool. A stargazing fool.

But I’m not an idiot. I  know  who I am. I know what I am and what I’m capable of. And I know who you say I am is not who I am. You don’t know crap. Stay away from me.

Life moved on. Like a dream — or perhaps, more accurately, a nightmare — it suddenly shifted focus and location. New battles raged and more wounds felled my soul. God had lifted me out of the sea of red… only to set me down in a valley where I created my own lake of blood and tears. And still, the cancer raged in my soul. In places I wouldn’t allow God to touch. Like a child who won’t allow her mom to put healing balms on a painful wound, I wouldn’t let God touch my cancer-infected places. It just hurt too much. Like a perfect Lover, He waited. He stayed with me. And waited.

Did He know this time would come? Did He know I would finally be strong enough to say, Cut the cancer out. Do whatever you must do to heal my soul. I believe. I believe You can. I believe You want to. I finally understand my redemption and restoration isn’t just about "someday, when we all get to heaven". I finally get that Your salvation is for here and now. I finally see that You want me to live in perfect Shalom with You now. Bring it on, Jesus. Please. Bring it on.

oh how I wish I were a trinity
so if I lost a part of me
I still have two of the same to live.
but nobody gets a lifetime rehearsal
as specks of dust were universal

so let this love survive
and be the greatest gift
that we could give.

tell all the friends who think they’re so together
that these are ghosts and mirages,
all these thoughts of fairer weather

though its stormy now
I feel safe within the arms of
love’s discovery

Sitting on my porch, looking at the brilliant colors of dying leaves, signaling a change in seasons, I sense a changing of the seasons of my soul as well. While I look out at signs that winter is coming — a blanket of cold, perhaps even ice, where all living things go to ground and the world as a result looks dead — I feel a stirring in my own soul, an awakening. Glowing embers being fanned into flame by the Wind, annoucning the arrival of spring.

I am out of sync with nature. But I feel so very in-sync with my God. Finally, the ice is melting. The cold of my soul winter is giving way to the warmth of my Beloved’s spring.

though its stormy now
I feel safe within the arms of
love’s discovery

"Love’s Recovery" written by the Indigo Girls, from their self-titled album

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Hard Days, Dark Nights

It’s after 2am and I should be in bed….. why, I don’t know. I won’t be working tomorrow, so what’s the point in going to bed "tonight"?

Narnia may be beautiful and magical, but it’s still full of the same pain, fear, frustration and uncertainty the "real world" is. The job I thought was going to be my new focus, isn’t working out as I’d hoped. Oh, I still like the job — and they still like me I think. It’s just, well, their non-profit, church organization. They can’t afford to pay me. Forget paying me what I’m worth! They can’t even pay me what I need to earn to survive, even working 40 hours a week.

Today, my boss told me he can only afford to pay me around 30 hours a week, so I better plan on taking tomorrow off.

The problem for me is that this will leave me somewhere around $425/month in the hole. Taking a second job was an option I considered, then rejected. No part time job could pay me what I need… and frankly, taking that second job would take too much time away from the reason I came here in the first place, to plant a church.

So far, I’ve managed to make ends meet by living off my inheritance from mom and dad. I had such high hopes for that money. I wanted to invest it somewhere. Put it away and watch it grow, provide myself a nice little nest egg for my old age. But instead, I’m watching it quickly dwindle.

I know mom and dad would want me to use it this way, but, dang it! I don’t want to use it up this way.

God, I guess, has other ideas… What they are, I don’t know. He hasn’t chosen to share them with me.

How I wish mom and dad were here!! I miss them so very much. Their words of wisdom, their laughter… mom’s comfort, dad’s long hugs…. The both always knew how to make things "all better."  I don’t know how to live without them. Every day I wonder how in the world they lived for so long without their parents.

It’s not something you ever think of asking your mom and dad when their alive. It’s not even something you want to contemplate. I know. I never wanted to contemplate this life either. Even now, I try to find ways of not dealing with it. I watch waaaay to much tv, and eat waaaay too much. If there was another "waaaay too much" that I could figure out how to get away with as a Southern Baptist, believe me, I’d be knee deep in it already! Anything to escape the pain. Anything to not have to acknowledge the grief that consumes me.

I miss them so much my heart feels like it’s exploding and my soul feels inky black. It seems, many days, I still live in that darkness, and just visit the dream life I have here in Nashville. Even after experiencing days of unbelievable fulfillment by just life in general (something I never thought truly existed), I somehow find myself sucked back into the darkness, with the Monster sleeping nearby.  She is a Beast that demands to be fed and pacified, or she’ll turn and devour me. A beast of my own making, through months of running away and hiding from Pain. She is what keeps me from living in Narnia. She keeps pulling me back through the wardrobe doors, back into the past. Perhaps it’s her restless shifting that pulls me back, the same way something in the "real world" pulls us out of our dreams and back into the darkness of our night-filled rooms.

Between the Monster and my own rabid fears of financial ruin… did I mention I’m a drama queen? … poor Aslan is having a struggle getting an audience with me.

…Okay, I’ve finally run out of steam and am starting to fall asleep while typing… I didn’t know a person could do that. I’ve fallen asleep writing before, but typing…?

I will post a follow-up on this later.

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My Narnia

I sit in a windowless room, while the beauty of a rainy day rages on outside. Without me.

I see the refreshing glory of God every time I pass a window. Rain-slicked streets, misty clouds hovering nearby, shrouding all of downtown Nashville in a mysterious grey veil. It feels like London! Such mystery to explore, and adventures to be had!

Yet I sit in a windowless room…

There’s so much beauty in Tennessee! So much to see, to taste and smell, to breathe in… On my way to work this morning, fog-covered hills sang a beautiful song to Jesus draped in amazing colors, announcing Fall’s arrival.

This place is magical. Exploding with all the mystical elements my heart has called "Fall" since as early as I can remember. I’ve dreamed for years of living in a place like this; experiencing just one autumn filled with all the magic: colors, air crisp and clear, the aroma of fresh rain and dirt lingering in the air, mixing with the fragrances of wood burning in fireplaces somewhere nearby.

This is the magic where stories live. Stories that stir my soul, warm my heart and draw my mind toward home.

And now I’m living in one. A magical story. Where the Hero rescues the peasant from the Beast and brings her to His land, full of beauty and endless bounty. To the average person I’m sure Nashville just looks like another big city. Another dot on a map of the United States.

But to me it’s Narnia.

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Perhaps Home

Boxes, boxes everywhere! How did I get so much stuff!! I thought I did the sort-discard-re-sort-discard-pack thing when I went overseas two years ago… in fact, I know I did. But in that year overseas, I seem to have collected more stuff…! And even the irrelevant things got shipped back — I wasn’t allowed to go back and pack myself, due to being on medical leave, so someone else packed me up. God BLESS them for it! But, it made for much chaos and confusion — and a bit of frustration — as I’ve unpacked. Searching for things I was sure I had, finding things I thought had been sold, and discovering things I’d thought were supposed to come back had not, in fact, made it back.

The place IS beginning to look like home, but the feeling still hasn’t come. The older I get, the more time it seems to take for a place to "feel" like home. Or maybe I’m just feeling the effects of all I’ve been through in the last couple of years, and my year-plus of living nomadic lifestyle. I’m not even sure what home’s supposed to look like any more.

But I know what it smells like. It smells like Nina’s basement apartment… mom and dad’s home the last six months of their lives.

I got back to her home last month, walked into the basement, got a good whiff of it and sighed, "aaahhh, I’m home!" Isn’t that weird? A place with such sad memories, the place where I my mom died, where I first saw her when I got home…. but it’s also the place I lived during the holidays last year. And those have become some of my most cherished memories, even though they were hard, hard times. I was so depressed and felt so without hope.

It was in the midst of that darkness that God met me, Nina and Toby carried me, the Holy Spirit enveloped me. Though I could not see Him or feel Him, I knew Jesus was there. No, I didn’t know, I just BELIEVED He was there…. I chose to believe and clung to that belief with all the strength I had left – which wasn’t much. It was either believe or die. Believe or be swallowed whole by the darkness. Believe or… or lose myself completely to the Abyss.

Perhaps that’s what home is. Perhaps that’s what the smell in Nina’s beautiful basement apartment really reminds me of.  The sweetness of being rescued by God. Sweetness that can only be fully known by believing what you cannot see or feel when all your senses are screaming that it’s over, there is no hope left.

I have many magical memories of home, but perhaps none so magical, or so packed full of hope, as last Christmas at Nina’s.  It’s a magic I’ve never known before, and didn’t know it then. The kind you cannot know unless you’ve clung to the precipice of the Abyss and, with fear throbbing through every fiber of your being, shouted at the top of your lungs, "I believe You, God!! I believe You are here, as You say You are. I believe You! I believe You love me beyond all comprehension! I believe You will rescue me! I believe You! And I refuse to ever stop believing!"

Perhaps that’s what Home is. Hope-packed magic that only God and a stubbornly willing heart can create.

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I’m Home!

Nina and I arrived in Nashville early this evening with a U-Haul full of my stuff… things I haven’t seen in over a year! Tonight has been like Christmas… unwrapping all this stuff! There are some things I’d forgotten I still had, and others I discovered got sold, or thrown out….. Then there was the mirror the movers ripped out of the vanity top to my dresser and wrapped separately… that will have to be replaced… ugh.
There are so many more boxes to open, furniture to put together, things to put away… Where do I start??? I’m exhausted…. Nina’s already in bed and I think it’s time for me to hit the sack too.

Aahh, to finally sleep in my OWN bed! It’s only been a year and 3 months, but who’s counting, right?

G’night all. Sweet dreams. I know I’ll be having some!

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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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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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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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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.