Sunshine, Johnny Cash, and a Martin D15.

I have a professor. I have four, actually, but we’ll focus on one. He is a short man. Stocky build, balding. Always wears shirts too tight around the collar  and artistic ties. He pulls at the collar when he’s uncomfortable or mad (which is most of the time). I sit up front. I get a good view of his shirt. The neck is so tight the buttons pull apart like they are magnets with the same charges. I hope that made sense. The point is – he is interesting to look at. Lots of detail with that man. Though the ties change and the buttons grow farther apart, one thing remains constant. He always looks miserable.

He seems sad most of the time. I leave class sometimes wanting to hug him. Sometimes. I’m no saint.

Today, he was talking about a woman named Mrs. Dalloway. He talked about how she was walking the streets of London buying flowers for a party she wanted to have. He said the sun was out and shining brightly: Kind of like today! he exclaimed, It makes you feel alive. He mentioned how the sunshine makes you feel alive about seven times. He doesn’t repeat himself. I can safely assume the following:

The sunshine gave him a little bit of hope for today. It made him feel alive. I left the classroom not wanting to hug him out of pity, but to hug him out of joy. You don’t hate the world! You know what it feels like to be alive! We have a connection. We both love the sunshine.

I leave you with this: think about what makes you come alive. I was thinking about what makes me come alive. I’ll give you a few examples. Maybe we have the same connections! Let’s hug.

1. My porch at night. Even when it is 31 degrees outside, you will find me on my porch every night for a time. I go out there,  breath in the air, sit on the swing, dream. The porch swing is my dream chair. I have dreamed about beautiful things in that chair.
2. Writing. When I pick up the guitar and start writing, I feel like my insides are musical jelly being held back by my skin. That may not sound pleasurable to you, but I assure you. It is the most surreal and magnificent feeling. Creating something. Pouring your heart out onto strings and paper. Leaving it there and looking at it later. Throwing it away. Keeping it. No matter what the outcome — it proves to be healing.
3. Piano. My sister has a baby grand in her sunroom. It isn’t a sunroom. But the windows are huge. The sunlight pours in. The combination of the sunshine and the instrument I’ve been banging on since age newborn proves to be lethal in a good way. It all feels magical.
4. Watching really great films. Case and point: when I’m feeling lowly or cowardly, I watch Gladiator. It makes me feel like I can conquer the world. Looking at Russell Crowe in all his scruffy glory for two hours doesn’t hurt, either.
5. Listening to music. There is so much good music out there. Even just this past week, I’ve wept listening to music. Granted, I’ve been emotional. But still, this is no new thing for me. Music moves me. Here is the list of bands and/or albums that have made me cry in the past 100 hours: Bon Iver, namely “Skinny Love”, The Protomen, “The Last of the Mohicans” soundtrack, Johnny Cash, Foo Fighters, and Doc Watson. Hello, random. How I love you.

What makes you come alive?  Maybe it’s tight collared shirts. Make a list. Feel inspired. Feel alive.

It’s a beautiful day…

Look at this. Beauty. This is God’s flower in my front yard. I feel pretty honored.

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Christmas in March.

I want to tell you a story. The past two years of my life have been painful. Beautiful, but painful. Lots of tears. Lots of growth. Lots of sowing. The past few months, I’ve been hoping for my harvest time. My “harvest time” has been a source of hope for me in the darkest of places that I find myself in. I won’t go into a whole lot of detail for time’s sake, but I’ll tell you about it more later. The other day, I met a homeless man named Mississippi Mac. One thing led to another, and he told me that God wanted him to tell me that my harvest time was coming soon. Here I was, coming out of a time of losing some hope in my harvest time. I was losing faith that I was really holding out for something that was real and coming soon. And here was an ordinary man with an extraordinary message that rekindled my dream.

He was a lot like Jesus. Jesus was just an ordinary guy that had a knack for telling stories and building things with his hands. But His message was extraordinary. His message was that He was and is the Son of God. His message was and is that you are His beloved. His child. His favorite. His message was and is brought to bring you life, and to bring it abundantly.

So, amidst your ordinary Tuesday, don’t forget this:

You are made extraordinary because of His love. Because of that, we know that we serve an extraordinary God. He longs to do extraordinary things in our lives. I love living in the spirit of trusting each day could bring something extraordinary. Each day could bring the harvest I have been so eagerly waiting for. For me, every day feels like Christmas Eve. I feel like I’m just hours from something magical. It is the joy of believing like the child you once were. I encourage you to turn your ordinary day into Christmas Eve. All you’ve got to do is trust that you serve an extraordinary God who desires spectacular things for you. He’ll explode every box and every dream you’ve ever had and make it even more grand and beautiful. Merry Christmas, friends.

Want to read more about people seeing the extraordinary amongst the ordinary? Check out Tuesdays Unwrapped.

Let’s have a swing date.

Last week was not so great. I’m being really vague. There is a reason. I’m not wanting to be vulnerable with you.

Okay, okay.

It was horrible. It was one of those weeks where you look at yourself in the mirror and that little voice goes,

Girl. Stop eating pizza. Then you hear…And seriously? You think you have something to offer? And THEN…P.S. No one wants you to be their friend. And THEN AGAIN…Oh, yeah. P.P.S. That Godly man you are waiting for to come sweep you off your feet? Yeah, not coming around. Ever. You will be alone the rest of your life. All of these things are happening because you are a failure at life. Epic fail.

Gar-bahhhhge. That is all that is. Garbage. This weekend, I needed to take out my trash. Literally and figuratively. (If only the mind garbage were as easy to get rid of as my kitchen trash.) I needed to hear some truth. Feel some sunshine. Be with a friend. Laugh. Drink good wine and eat good food.

So, my dear friend and I went to Chapel Hill. We ate a fancy dinner and drank fancy wine. It was so fancy, we felt out of place. (Even insecurity finds its way into pleasant dinners in Chapel Hill. Boo hiss.) Then, we stayed at a bed and breakfast called the Arrowhead Inn. Simply beautiful. If you need a retreat, this is the place to go. I was sitting on the swing pictured below. While sitting there, eating clementines (which I affectionately call slices of sunshine) I felt weightless. For a moment, the sun shined on my bare feet. For a moment, my hair blew in the wind.

For a moment, I felt like I was enough.

I invite you to look at the swing, imagine yourself sitting on it with your slice of sunshine, and know that you are enough. Always.

Don’t be an Atlas.

It has been awhile since I’ve posted here. I failed to live up to my “once a week”. I will try not to be disappointed in myself. Living a life as a student, office assistant, daughter, sister, roommate, friend, band member, middle school leader, and trying to find time for myself has been difficult recently. There is a line from Lord of the Rings where Bilbo describes himself as “butter scraped over too much bread.”

I feel like Bilbo. Or the butter. Take your pick.

Life is hard enough as it is. When you add worry and take the weight of the world on your shoulders, it makes things that much more difficult. There is a story in Greek Mythology about this guy, Atlas. Long story short, Zeus punishes him by having Atlas carry the world on his shoulders. If there is one thing the Greek’s had right, it is this: carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders isn’t natural.

That isn’t the position that God desires you to be in. He doesn’t desire you or me to be propping other people up by our strength. He doesn’t desire you to walk bent over from the weight of worry. He’s got you on a path. He has you in a race. In order to run a race effectively, you can’t be bent over. You’ve to let it go. Hold fast to hope. He’s taking care of everything a lot better than you would anyways. I don’t mean that to sound like I don’t trust you or that you are a bad person. I mean that in saying that I know for a fact that Jesus is a much better candidate for carrying around burdens and people than you are. He’s the best at it. That’s what He died for. That’s what He longs to do for you.

Would you like more good news? Guess what Jesus said when he was walking around on this world that we seem to care about way too much?

In this world you may have troubles. But, take heart, I have overcome the world.

Take heart, today. He’s overcome it. Don’t be an Atlas.

Unwrapping the silence.

It’s a Tuesday. I’m going to unwrap the gift of silence.

When I was a kid, I talked a lot. I drove my Mom crazy. I drove everyone crazy. Yeah, it was cute for about 1 minute and then it got downright maddening. Mom taught me the joy of silence. She would make me just not talk for 30 minutes. (Trust me, this may sound weird but it was necessary for both of us from ages 2-4.) I’d sit in silence – thinking, making up stories, dreaming. Even now as an adult, I talk to myself too much. I feel like I’ve got to talk about how I’m feeling, process everything and create a plan.

I get caught up in the business of life. I run around, exhausted and overwhelmed at times. I experience emotion. I try to remain steady through the whole process, but sometimes it’s just so hard. Sometimes, I let myself experience silence. When I go to God to seek comfort and guidance, I will get silence sometimes. But the thing about the silence of God is that it is a blessing. I’m expecting to hear some profound statement He wants me to accept. I’m expecting some radical sign or miracle. And He’s expecting me to just sit there and watch Him be on the move. He’s relentless. Always on the move around me. He’s a Warrior. He wants me to just be silent and recognize that I can’t do the fighting – only He can through my silence. So really, silence is a good thing. Builds character. Builds trust. Being quiet in the presence of God is a necessity for me. That’s when I watch Him fight for my heart.

The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent. -Exodus 14:14

To read more unwrapped stories, check out chatting at the sky. You won’t regret it!

Spread the love.

This little chunk of baby, or should I say BIG chunk of baby, is me. I’m not feeling very nostalgic today and I’m not here to share stories about how I was when I was a kid. Although, I do have a few good ones. Just ask my Mom or sister and they can dish out some good dirt. This post ties in to a question Holley asked recently. She asked her readers to share a time where they felt real love. It isn’t a love story that has to be about star-crossed lovers (thank you, Taylor Swift), or about your first love. It just has to be real and it has to do with love.

My love story started as early as this picture. My love affair started with life. As you can see with my facial expression, I am diggin’ this “being born” thing. I love that black hat. I love that camera. I am content sitting on the floor in my pink dress making nonsensical noises and just being a baby. Ever since then, I catch glimpses of that baby pop out in every day circumstances. Little things excite me.  I still have that big grin.  I still relish what life is giving me. However, sometimes I lose sight of that happiness and joy. I start getting restless. I’m not content just sitting in the floor and marveling at something simple. I want drama. I want grandiose.

I want, I want, I want.

Then, I feel like God whispers, Hey kiddo. Just be. Sit still. Enjoy. Watch me work.

This is my encouragement for you today. Be still. Know that He is God. It will help you enjoy life more. It will enable you to love others and yourself more fully. Life involves the simply things, the grandiose things, the sad things, the marvelous things. Expect it all to come eventually. Trust that God has big plans for you, and that He loves figuring out what those big plans are.

When was the last time you sat in the floor and marveled at the blessings God has given you? He came to bring you life and bring it abundantly. Put on your pink dress, black hat, and enjoy.

A little flame in a dark, dark room.

Do you ever feel alone? Do you ever feel like you don’t make a difference?

Vulnerable moment: I’ve been feeling that way for the past few days.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’ve been taking the train to Negative Town one too many times this week. Maybe I’m just going through a sad spell because I feel like I haven’t seen sunshine in a week. Either way I look at it, I’m seeing that it has something to do with the inside. Not the outside circumstances.

I’m not really valuing myself. I’m not looking at myself and seeing any sort of worth. This has been a lifelong battle. I’ve always struggled with my worth. I’ve always struggled with the question, Do you really matter? Aren’t you just a fake? Oh, what gnarly lies from the Enemy those are.

I’m not a failure. I do make a difference. This week, Holley has been asking questions about your skills and strengths. I haven’t been able to respond to this yet. I wrote down a list of strengths I think I have in my journal. I wrote them down – can we say nausea without limits? Let’s just say I took that as a red flag. Maybe I should do some self evaluation for a few days.

I have a candle on my night table that is lit. One tiny little flame in a very dark room. It manages to illuminate everything. I might feel insignificant, but there is a light that resides deep inside of me that illuminates everything. It casts the shadows away. It penetrates the darkness. It says, This one is Mine. I am His; He is mine. What would I be without this man called Jesus? Nothing.

Thankfully, He doesn’t look at me and decides to give me the treatment I think I deserve. He treats me far better than that. If you sometimes feel the same way I do, let me just tell you something. You are so valued. You are so important. You are so loved. You are a beautiful creation that exudes the radiance and majesty of God. He made you in His image. That image is breathtaking. So are you.

Isn’t it funny how easily we can tell each other how amazing we are but we can’t do the same thing for ourselves? I can go all day making lists of my friends’ strengths and skills. But when it comes to me, I’m stumped for a week. Oh dear. There is something wrong with that picture, friends. I’m going to be continuing to work on that pattern.

What a blessing to know as we work all of this out, He is with us every step of the way? He loves us just as much when we’re shattered and frustrated as when we are radiant with the knowledge that He has completed us.

Oooooh, Doppelganger week.

This week is Doppelganger week. You pick a celebrity that looks like you. Can we say awkward.

Today, Holley wrote a post about comparing yourself to other people. Oh, sister. You hit the nail on the head.

This whole week, I’ve been watching friends put up their Doppelgangers. I wanted to put one up, but I was nervous. You might ask why and I will tell you why.

I was scared about what people were going to think about the celebrity I chose. It was all in the comparing. Comparing myself to the celebrity, them comparing me to the celebrity. Me comparing myself against other people’s Doppelgangers who legitimately look like their twin. Oh, the list goes on and on.

What if they thought, “She doesn’t look anything like that!” What if they said, “Wow, she must think really highly of herself to put that smokin’ hot celebrity as her look-a-like.” I wanted to join in the fun. But I felt trapped by what people would think about me. Confession: I do this way too often. I worry about what people will think of me. I’d like to think I was that person that is so confident in themselves it exudes from their flawless pores.

I’m not.

I’m confident in some things. But most of the time I’m scared silly about what people will think. Some things don’t bother me, other times I can obsess about something for days. Let me clue you in on a little something I’ve been doing since I was a kid.

I have future conversations with people by myself.

You might not understand what I’m saying. That’s okay. It isn’t normal to hear someone say what I just said. Let me just give you an example.

I’m seeing an old friend for the first time in awhile. I’m a little nervous; feeling a little antsy. What do I do? The morning of when I’m getting ready in the shower, you can hear outside the bathroom:

“Hi, there!”
“Hey!”
“Oh wow, I haven’t seen you in forever!”
“I know, how have you been?”
“Pretty good. What are you ordering for lunch?”

Seriously, people. It is a problem. I confessed this to my sister the other day. She laughed. I laughed. It was in that moment of comic relief I realized how truly silly it is. Me practicing the conversation isn’t going to change how the situation goes or how they think about me. I just need to trust that I am enough. I am me. That is all I can offer. In those moments where I do start to worry about what someone is thinking, I just move on and proceed to pray that God would remind me of my worth in Him.

Oh dear, I am a mess. But a redeemed and beautiful mess. That’s all I can offer and that’s all He wants from me. All of my messy parts, all of my silliness, all of my quirks. Here’s to hoping I make Him chuckle at least once a day.

I will lay it all out there at this point. Here’s my Doppelganger picture. I’m trying to enjoy this silly Doppelganger month. I will not cringe. I will not worry. Woot woot!

Thank you, Peter Jackson & J.R.R. Tolkien.

Over the weekend, it dumped snow. I mean, dumped. Layers of ice, snow, ice, snow. Granted, it is North Carolina so take it with a grain of salt. HA NO PUN INTENDED! I’m totally laughing at myself right now.

Anyways.

I pulled out my knitting needles, chunky yarn, Bengal Spice tea, and settled in to watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy, yet again. I think it gets better and better every time I watch it. It is such a powerful story that rings true even in our own lives. Today, Holley was talking about hurt. Hurts in the past that we have experienced. She asked how we experienced healing from hurt in our story. It came at a seemingly perfect time. Yesterday as I finished up the trilogy, and I was reminded of a powerful line that Frodo speaks at the end of his journey.

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on… when in your heart you begin to understand… there is no going back? There are somethings that time cannot mend… some hurts that go too deep… that have taken hold.

As I was faced with deep hurt, this was the only way I could even think of describing it. How do you go about after the threads of life are torn and tattered? You can’t change the past. There is fear that the past will change you. Let me assure you, it does. But there is nothing to be afraid of. In healing, it is okay to have some wounds that go “too deep”. Sometimes we are afflicted with injury or wounds that are so poisonous, so twisted, that they still twinge with pain when touched. There are some wounds that I will never get over. There are still some places that have scarred over, but are still painful. Through that healing, we are refined. We are whispered to. I know that Jesus has healed my heart in the deepest, most broken places. The only way that happened was through forgiveness. Realizing the truth. I am a sinner. The people that inflicted those deep wounds are sinners. I am no better than them. Dan Allender once said,

Forgiveness says, “It was wrong.”

“It mattered”

“I release you.”

And then we ask God to father us, and to tell us our true name.

Friends, do not be afraid to grieve the losses of your story. For in your grief and the process of forgiveness, God whispers to you your TRUE NAME. He holds you close. He binds up your wounds. He lovingly leads you through the painful journey. Suffering brings us closer to Him. When I could look on my suffering and say, “Jesus was with me through the entire thing. Jesus stood with me. He remembers what happened. Jesus carried me on His back. Without the suffering, I wouldn’t be comfortable climbing on His back in the first place.” Climb on His back. His yoke is easy and His burden is light. He’d love to carry you through the pain.

As Frodo speaks to Sam for the last time, he says,

You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Your part in the story will go on.

We cannot always be torn in two. We have much to be grateful for and much to enjoy. Our story will go on. We aren’t alone.

After finishing a box of Kleenex, a scarf, and half a box of Bengal Spice teabags, I was reminded of something precious. My wounds matter. They aren’t insignificant. But they don’t define me. They are just a part of my story. They are not my true name. My true name comes from the Divine love of Jesus Christ. I was torn in two for a time, but that season has ended. One day, the scars won’t even show.

How thankful I am for my sweet Savior. How thankful I am for the creative genius of J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson bringing it to life.

And my wooden knitting needles. They are better than the metal ones. Less clinking.

Don’t forget to check out Holley’s blog and Tuesday Unwrapped. I know Emily. She’s great. You’d like her, too. Go read her stuff!