- Beauty, Baubles and Backpacks
Several years ago, I found an awesome backpack in a Van’s outlet store. I doubt I spent more than twenty bucks on it … because I just don’t buy things new or expensive very often.
When I saw this backpack, I knew it was perfect for me. It was black and white (basic essential colors, right? … that don’t even show dirt!) with a splash of pink to make it girly (I a.d.o.r.e pink).
And it had a bold geometric design on the front (I love stripes, plaid and checkerboard prints).
I had NO idea how sturdy this bag would be.
Joy has gone through one backpack after another …
having one with a zipper that split right open shortly after purchase,
another came unstitched
and yet another did the common “pull-apart-at-the-strap-seam” action.
I don’t think she’s that much more rough on her backpack(s) than I am.
This sweet jewel has made it through a year or two of book-toting at college
and then graduated to become my go-to bag for every kind of adventure.
(LOOK at that fun little camera!! It even flashes when you push the shutter release
AND it makes a “click click” sound! Isn’t that fun??)
When I travel, it’s the bag for my laptop, cameras, chargers, cords, calendar, currently-being-read-book and my Bible. And when we camp, it’s our lunch-box for hiking … always stuffed with snacks, water and cameras, as well.
I’ve always been one to “decorate” things. Naturally, my fav backpack has “ornaments” that declare it is mine.
I adore pins, baubles and trinkets.
Not so long ago, Stone said,
“Ya know, your bag wouldn’t be as heavy if you’d take all that stuff off of it.”
I laughed and took a handful of trinkets
and with a gleam in my eyes said,
“Ah, but the small of burden that these l.i.t.t.l.e t.o.y.s inflict
is FAR OUTWEIGHED by the joy that their presence brings.”
I can tell you with absolute certainty,
he does not get me.
Perfect example?
He doesn’t like that my cooking makes more of a mess than his kitchen time does
(calling himself a minimalist in the kitchen … meaning one spoon to stir all pots)
…. BUT, he doesn’t mind that my cooking is “exotic” (his word)
(which just means that I add garnish and sauces and sprinkles to make things special).
See that? One is a pay-off of the work from the other … but he doesn’t see the connection.
But, ya know, it takes all kinds, doesn’t it?
I’m okay that he doesn’t get me.
And I’m really glad that I’ve stopped trying to be someone I’m not.
Some of us travel light and some of us carry a little more of the fanciful.
Some of us are focused and intent on not being distracted,
while others are pleased to stop and notice the sparkle on the wings of a dragonfly
the disheartened look in the eye of an empty soul at the grocery store
or the need to gift a book to a friend who is hurting.
When in a store recently, I came across this precious card
and I laughed out.loud.
I purchased it and brought it home to be framed.
It sits on my desk now and just makes me smile
every.time.I.read.it.
(look at those cute little tippy-toe feet on that stool *grins*)
Rather than trying to be someone that I am not,
I am absolutely tickled to be perfectly comfortable in my own skin.
It has taken me years to get to this place of acceptance …
but it feels good to be here.
I can only hope and pray that I can instill in my own children
a fraction of this self-acceptance.
Yes, Stone, you’re right. My bag would be ever.so.slightly lighter without my trinkets …
but my life would be less rich without them, as well.
I want to encourage you …
to know that you are created unique and special.
You have traits and tendencies that are unlike any other soul on this planet.
You are beautiful and intricate and wonderfully made.
There IS such a thing as constructive criticism that should be embraced and considered …
BUT
don’t let someone else’s standard of “acceptable” and “normal” and “right”
limit your freedoms in being the beautiful person that God created you to be.
If you are a “bauble and trinket” kind of person, then embrace that.
If you’re a “minimalist,” then that’s wonderful!
Just don’t let someone else’s standard
be the one that makes me feel that you’ve been put down or you’re not good enough.
Yes, you, my friend, are beautiful
through and through
just the way that you are.
- “Christmas” Masterpiece
She didn’t even ask me for help. She called her daddy and asked him to take her to the craft store. As usual, he graciously and promptly gifted her with her requests. He’s so good to bless her that way.
She returned and bubbled over with joy of her collection of paper ….
beautiful scraps in spring and summer hues
of azure, pink and vermillion.
“Bubbled over”
… not a phrase to truly depict this child …
this child … Joy.
Loud and silly …
are seldom seen
though she is twelve.
She remains laid low and moves languidly.
She is quite solitary.
Like James, much more energy is expended in thought
rather than action.
“Christmas,” I call her, at times. She always gets it.
I remember, when tiny, I would serve her plate first at dinner
in hopes that she might finish her meal
before the table was completely cleared.
who twirls into the room, boisterous and active,
talks and talks and talks
spilling stories with raucous laughter and energetic outbursts.
Glory can finish her entire meal before I even dip my final side dish.
She wastes no time
to arrive, enjoy or consume
and move on to the next adventure.
Funny how we are all built differently, isn’t it?
Our God is so wondrously creative.
Creativity.
God gifted this little one with much of this blessing.
At Michaels, she purchased brushes, canvas, paper and adhesive
with a final product in mind ….
… and came home to begin.
Shredding the paper
and mixing the patterns
that oh-so-beautifully-intertwine,
she began to piece together her masterpiece.
She shared her vision with me.
It is exciting to watch her work.
I think of instruction in art. I taught art for several years at co-op when we homeschooled. One line of thinking throughout history has been to copy the masters. If one wants to be an accomplished artist, she should choose an artist to copy. In studying the design elements, style of work, brush strokes, highlights and shadows from a master, you learn to think like the master. And once you have formed a firm foundation to base your creativity, then your own original personality will emerge in your inspired artwork.There are many ways to learn a new trade, art or passion. One way … is to study a master.
While I am not a master at any level in any area, I have been a lover-of-paper for decades. I have used paper to decoupage, scrapbook and create cards, artwork and practical items. There is always paper within arms reach. It is easy to find gift wrap, tissue paper patterned and solid, scrapbooking paper, construction paper, stationary, white copy paper and post-it notes. To watch this child use paper to create stirs my soul to warm.
But, the greatest encouragement to me is to see
this child’s ability to take that which she has been gifted
and use it to make make beauty.
She has torn into pieces that which was slightly ordinary …
sifted through and sorted…
and is now in the process of applying piece-by-broken-piece
a pattern and design of
a beautiful art that
will inspire and please …
encourage and uplift.
I tell you … I pray … I beg my dear Heavenly Father …
that I might help direct her in doing this in her
emotional and spiritual life, as well.
My prayer is that she might be able to use what is gifted her …
to create beauty in her life and influence others in her circles.
I know she can accept the easy, tender, kind and gentle.
I know she can embrace the beautiful, gracious and showy.
I know she can easily receive the rich, wonderful and sweet.
We all can do these things … can’t we?
But, I pray she graciously accept the tattered, torn and broken …
the untimely, uncomely and undesirable …
the difficult, painful and solemn
with grace, mercy … with full embrace.
Because, these things come. God can use them for our strengthening …
our betterment …. His glory.
Fighting them does not eliminate their presence in our lives.
Perspective …. again. It’s all about perspective.
I pray hers - her perspective -
would be healthy … strong … and accepting
of all life has to offer.
I will be sure to share the final masterpiece with you.
But, remember … she is “Christmas” …
it may be a while.
- Hope deferred
Joy asked me this morning,
“Mom, tell me again ??? ….
WHY did you not allow me to watch many Disney movies when I was little?”
It’s been quite a while since she has asked this question.
But, this time, I’m certain that she heard my answer and she understood.
I answered, “Because, I didn’t want you to have planted in your mind
the “Disney-princess-happily-ever-after” idea.
There are two places you will find this image
run amuck: chick flicks and Disney movies.
It’s a lie, Joy. If you watch those movies, you will begin to think,
‘THAT’S what I want! My parents didn’t have it, but I WILL!’
Every life has SOME of that eye-lash-batting and handkerchief saving,
but it’s NOT what life is made of. Relationships are work.
People are messy. There is reward ..
but marriage is not all daisies, pink chiffon and white stallions.”
I still remember the feeling I had when he first spoke the phrase.
My friend, Charles, is quite wise. He is a good listener. He uses words sparingly. He remembers a good quote and will share it with precise, perfect timing. He is a wordsmith and a writer. He uses gentlemanly charm to ask, “May I offer some advice?” rather than pummeling one with unsolicited direction.
And I still remember the feeling I had when he first spoke the phrase.
After Comedy left, I spent a good bit of time in turmoil. I begged and prayed that God would heal my marriage. I prayed for at least twenty years. For the last ten years, I prayed that God would make ME the person that Comedy needed me to be … that I would make Comedy happy. Yes, I prayed for God to renovate Comedy’s heart and make him a new man …
but my main focus …
at LEAST for the last ten years of our marriage …
was
“Lord, please change ME to make ME the person that I need to be in this marriage.”
In the end, there was no change that was enough.
Comedy left us.
And there I sat
dismayed
and perplexed.
All that energy …
all that focus …
all that hope …
for naught …
Today, I am surrounded by a host of witnesses who are struggling in their marriages …
women who are fighting … on bended knee …
men who are crying out … with raised hands.
They tell me their stories as we stand
beside cold metal buggies in a grocery store aisle,
on the sidewalk in front of my home with Suburbans whizzing by,
at swim meets a midst splashing water and timing buzzers announcing another race start,
at home school meetings where you expect to find “strong” marriages and “healthy” families ….
at church, via email, through Facebook and on the phone.
Some stories I have watched unfold. I have seen the friend beg
and finally lay waste any idea of what to do next.
Some stories are hidden. I have known the couple …
but they appeared happy … healthy … strong in their relationship.
Some stories come from strangers … people who bare their souls quickly after meeting.
These people … new acquaintances, ancient friends, dear hurting souls …
they are disillusioned … perplexed … baffled.
And Charles?
I still remember the feeling I had when he first spoke the phrase…
“Hope … is a dangerous thing.”
It sounds like sacrilege. It sounds anti-Christian. Or non-Biblical.
It is most-certainly not a Disney-phrase.
It sounds plain wrong.
But, the more I have talked with him …
the more I have listened to others …
the more I have prayed and cried out to understand “hope”
the more I believe
Charles
…. may be right.
Proverbs 13:12 tells us
Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
‘Tis true, isn’t it? When we hope and do not find fulfillment, our heart becomes
discouraged … lethargic … sick.
I want to do a word study on “hope” …
to see just what scripture says about hope
one of the “three that remain” (1 Corinthians 13:13) …
but one thought that I am certain …
The root of MY problem with hope
was that my hope was improperly placed.
I had this image of what my marriage SHOULD have looked like.
Oh, it was founded upon scriptural description …
but the fact remains that
- for many years -
I looked at my husband
rather than my Lord
to fulfill any hopes that I carried in my heart.
Surely, scripture was written as our guide
not to be our judge.
The verses about husbands
should not be used by wives to judge whether our husband
is measuring up …
but rather by the husband as a guide for his own direction.
And the same goes for the wife.
Or the neighbor.
Or the servant, child or laborer.
In our many roles … wearing the many hats that we wear,
scripture should be our plumb line for our own personal standards
rather than the rule-book we use to judge whether others
are doing THEIR job properly.
And so, I have laid aside the dangerous hope
of holding onto ideas that I have conjured up
through chick-flicks, Disney
or even highly lauded scriptural outlines.
And so, I leave you with the words that I typed into the keyboard just this morning
to a dear sweet friend … struggling:
“when our hope rests in ANY.THING
other than Christ …
other than God’s provision
of all things …
tangible and not …
when our hope rests in ANY.THING
other than a day-to-day knowing
that we really do.not have any control …
then
hope is dangerous.
hope is dangerous …
when we use it to continue to cling to
an image that we have conjured up
of what things “should” look like.”
May your hope
and mine
rest fully
in the day-to-day living
that is under girded, directed and strengthened
by a Father who loves us,
a Son who sacrificed for us
and a Spirit who guides us
faithfully …
day in – day out …
moment-by-moment.
May our hope simply be in Him
not in our own dreams and ideas …
that hope would not be found to be
a “dangerous thing.”
- Always looking for a fight
I shop the “scratch and dent” area first …
knowing there is value in the wounded.
I will pick up an item off the side of the road …
knowing that a little tender loving care can put that treasure back into good use.
I will take the product with the rumpled package off the shelf
and choose to purchase it from the store
over the item that is still pristine and neatly wrapped …
simply because I know it is less desirable to most shoppers.
I see this tendency to gravitate towards the difficult
when I run, as well.
I prefer the hills … the push … the work.
I love running UP stairs. I actually look for stairs to conquer.
And when riding my bike, the downhill ride feels out of control for me.
Others love the “wheeeeeee” moment of fast travel down an incline …
I find myself braking when my speedometer tips over the 31mph point.
MY favorite part of the hill is the intentional, difficult work
of each.revolution.of.the.pedals
as I push my way UP the hill.
I have given this much thought and have come to realize
that this passion is because I know in my head
that the w.o.r.k … the difficult and taxing
is when I am broken down.
Do you understand the principle behind building muscle? When you push yourself physically, your muscle strands will tear or break. When you find yourself sore after a day of exertion, you are experiencing the cries of your broken muscle fibers. As your body repairs itself, those strands will actually be slightly larger than they were before exercise. This growth – tearing down and building up – is what causes your body to become more muscular. So, in reality, the tearing down of your muscles is a GOOD thing … because it stirs growth and strengthening or your body.
This principle applies to every area of our lives …
though the physical process is the only one that works
with or without our intentional focus.
Your body will repair itself (if you are in fairly good health)
whether you think about it or not.
There is a parallel in the spiritual world … but health is much more important here.
Simply living life brings with it injury and wounds of the emotions and the spirit.
In the same way that the seasons have order, so is there order in the emotional and spiritual world.
Grieving, for example, involves: shock/denial, pain/guilt, anger/blame, sadness/depression, acceptance/moving on.
Some people go through these steps in a slightly different order …
some people work through one quickly and hang onto another for years.
But, for the most part, these are the steps involved in the grieving process.
Being able to look at your pain is of utmost important to the healing process.
Some people are incredibly uncomfortable with this
but … for some reason, I embrace it.
It is an important factor in health.
And I want to be healthy … and strong.
All this examination and work … takes time. Yes, life takes time.
I remember … early in our marriage …
I would get frustrated with Comedy and want to talk things through
but … he wouldn’t engage.
Eventually, I came to word it this way:
“I can’t get a good argument out of Comedy.”
I used to wonder, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?”
It’s been such a wonderful to thing to realize …
there is NOTHING wrong with me.
I am simply a digger … an investigator …
I want to figure out the “why” so I can understand.
Just because Comedy and I operated differently,
doesn’t meant that either of us is “wrong!”
There is nothing wrong with me … OR him … we’re just different.
What freedom!
In the past several years, I have come to realize that
I.look.for.struggle.
I.desire.the.work.in.relationships.
I.seek.out.the.tough.stuff.
I search for the one in the crowd who is in need of a boost ….
and I do my best to lift them up.
My ears are in tune to the one who says,
“I would like to exercise …. but ….”
I try to uncover the source of their hesitation
and encourage them to overcome that
and get moving.
I have loved the teenage years with each of my children …
because those are the years of intensity.
I choose to “go deep” in conversation fairly quickly …
although it’s often “work.” THAT is where the richness, density and depth are found.
And so, yes, I am always looking for a fight. I’m searching for worth and value in every relationship. I am willing to fight and struggle through the bumps and potholes in a friendship as long as I do not find myself attacked for my tenacity and accepted for who I am. I am willing to stick it out and struggle through the tough stuff … even when things get rough. Relationships are messy … and people are worth it.
What about you? Are you a “fighter” married to or the parent of a “peace-keeper” that avoids confrontation … maybe because it’s too painful for them? Have you ever wondered, “What is wrong with ME?” Nothing is wrong with you, my friend, if you’re fighting for the right things and doing it in the right way (a sometimes confusing distinction). Unless you are being attacked for being yourself … stick it out! Be encouraged. Don’t give up. Relationships are messy, but people are worth it. If your tactic has been refused, find another way to love that person. Figure out their language and love them where they are. But, don’t quit. Don’t give up. Even if the final outcome in your relationship isn’t as you had hoped and prayed, you will know that you did your best and you fought for them ’til the end.
- Makes Me Happy Monday : tiny Grandeur
Joy and I spent one of our spring break days at Stone Mountain Park. It was a glorious day. We rode the train around its base and marveled at the gorgeous mountain of rock, speckled dark amongst the clear and white quartz. We shared a picnic lunch and dinner. And we laughed. We waited in a ridiculously long line that we might traipse through a rope maze suspended off the ground. We made the very last sky bucket back down to the base of that mammoth Georgian landmark where we laid on a blanket to watch lasers tell stories of history, music and people on the face of the memorial after the sun went down. Then we were amazed by fireworks lighting the night sky.
But, what do I remember the most?
I remember the beautiful little flowers…
their shallow roots held them tightly to the top of that huge mountain of rock.
They barely had soil to hold them in place,
but they lived!
They reproduced ….
they bLooMeD!
…. there in the blustery wind
and scorching sun.
They were pummeled by storms without protection.
They were walked upon …
or passed over ….
by thousands of feet.
And they flourished
in my favorite color: autumn.
Hundreds of shades of yellow and orange
could be seen in each clump of life.
And I thought about grandeur.
There were were atop this huge stone mountain
that is known nationwide
and here were these gorgeous flowers
quietly going fairly unnoticed
in all of their glorious beauty …
in their own
silent
small
grandeur.
This is life, isn’t it? The big, noticeable and loud get all the hoopla
while the quiet and insignificant presence of loveliness
goes almost unnoticed.
But, it need not be that way. We can look for the beauty.
We can find it all around.
In the mundane of the everyday … we CAN find it.
We can find it
in the insect crawling on the mailbox,
in the song with a beautiful new lyric
that we’ve missed every other time we’ve listened,
in listening to our bodies and knowing that
our heart beats, our blood flows and kidneys function
without a single intentional action from us.
All you need to do is watch. Watch for the untimely.
Watch for the quiet unnoticeable. Watch for the beauty.
It is all around.
I saw it in grandeur
on the top of a tremendous rock
in the middle of Georgia
in the form of tiny flowers of flaming orange and umber.
Yes, remembering tiny orange flowers
atop a tremendous Stone Mountain Makes Me Happy.
What makes YOU happy this marvelous Monday?
- Questions and Answers
I watch Him work in her life
and am encouraged.
Not so long ago I shared that she claims to be an atheist.
In a recent conversation, she told me,
“Ya know, I don’t think I’m an atheist, I think I’m more of an agnostic.
It’s not that I am certain there is no God … it’s just that I don’t see proof of Him.”
And my heart rejoices.
The other weekend, as I finished the bike ride in Aiken, Joy texted me to ask if I was riding with the group that was coming in at the Odell Weeks Recreation center. I was only about five miles from the finish when I received her text. She and her daddy had gone to Aiken so she could spend some time at the skate park. As I pulled into the parking lot, I made my way to the ramps to find her. I watched her skate, we talked for a bit and then she introduced me to the park’s attendant, Travis.
As we spoke, we casually covered college, skate boarding, motorcycle accidents and more. I questioned Travis about a book he was reading … and our conversation quickly moved deep into relationships, introspection, being a thinker, his blog, To The Root and more. Joy was within ear shot and she commented on the fact that Travis and I had just met, yet we had moved into the deepest conversation she had been privy to overhear that week. She followed the statement with the one she often uses when she doesn’t know what to do with me, “Mom, you’re so goofy.”
The next day, I requested to be Travis’ Facebook friend
and, upon his acceptance of that request,
found that he had written about Joy on his Facebook wall.
that he had talked to several times.
She mentioned that her mom was a Christian …
yet he was surprised when she told him that she was an atheist.
His gut reaction was to tell her that she wasn’t old enough to hold that opinion,
but with wisdom and grace,
rather he told her that she should research and own the idea.
He said that he knew several atheists who were well studied and held strong convictions.
He pointed out that he respected them because they knew why they believed.
He guided her not to grab hold of the ideas of the those around her,
but give herself a strong base for her own convictions.
If she was going to claim to be an atheist,
then she needed to be able to defend the concept.
I was moved
with awe
by the active movement of God in her life.
Here was a wise, young man
put into her path
telling her the SAME THING
that I had told her only a few months before.
“Be able to back up your ideas and opinions
with a defense.
Know WHY you believe
what you say that you do.”
Last night, as I lie in bed, I heard her talking.
I assumed she is on her phone.
I asked her who she was talking to and she answered,
“I’m reading my Bible … out loud … to myself.”
I am so thankful.
I’m thankful for the presence of people in her life that challenge her to “own” her beliefs.
I’m thankful for her courage to be herself, to question and to search for answers.
I’m thankful for her honesty with me … and even that she is struggling …
for in our struggles, healthy people ask questions and seek answers.
And that is exactly what she is doing.
Praise be to God.
Like this:
- Marriage Advice
I know two dear families who celebrated marital unions this past weekend. My friend, Elizabeth, at Yes, They’re all Ours has a son who married while my own sweet Glory was a bridesmaid in Nina’s wedding.
Maybe I have no right to give “advice” on marriage
having been unsuccessful to hold my own together.
Or possibly, my own failure
allows my advice to have more value.
Either way ….
I have given much thought to the question,
“What advice would you offer a new couple?”
and thought I would share it here.
Nina and Bryan offered a small scrapbook for wedding guests to write a note rather than the traditional “Guest Book.” Nina is good that way – “nontraditional.”
Many people simply wrote “Best Wishes” or “Good luck.” Naturally, I offered more.
Nina and Bryan wrote their own vows. They were quite beautiful.
As I listened, the theme in my mind was ….
“Oh, if they can just walk out
these words that they are vowing.”
And so, I wrote …
“Dearest Nina & Bryan,
No matter what you have imagined,
marriage will not be what you expect.
It will be tougher.
But, if you can put action behind your vows
and walk out those ideals,
your marriage will be SO MUCH MORE!
Let God be the strength to walk you through
moment by moment
and yours will be a rich and wonderful relationship.”
And so,
my advice is so simple.
Do not hold “Disney” or “chick flick” expectations of “happily ever after.”
Anything worth having,
is worth the work it takes to create it.
Focus on God and let Him lead, guide, direct and strengthen you.
Turn to Him for your happiness and contentment.
Do not heap expectations that you have learned from any other marriage
- even a Godly, strong, happy one -
onto your own marriage.
Your union is unique through and through.
Your spouse is unlike anyone else on earth.
Use the Bible and God’s Holy Spirit
as your guide …
asking what YOUR marriage should look like
and then you will find the deep, dense, rich, delectable beauty that is
yours and only yours.
He can uses our weaknesses to create strength
He can use our messes to bring glory,
and He can use mistakes to create stunning, exquisite, breath-taking beauty.
The key is to set aside OUR idea of beauty
and invite Him to create it for us.
- Speeding through Life
I took a bike ride day before yesterday.
I joined one hundred forty other riders to roam the rolling hills of Aiken County, South Carolina. This event had several routes/distances from which to choose. The longest distance was a full Century Ride which is one hundred miles. I have ridden almost 275 miles in the last three weeks, but the longest distance I have clocked in a single day was 43 miles. I felt like riding a full one hundred miles would have been a foolish stretch for me so I chose to ride the Metric Century which was 100 kilometers (actual 62.1 miles) or, in this case, a 68 mile ride. Nearing 70 miles would be enough to challenge but, prayerfully, not injure my body.
My goal when I exercise or participate in an event/race is always, ALWAYS the same; (a) finish (b) without hurting myself while (c) bettering my time or distance by some degree. An unspoken undergirding of this combination rule is to have fun along the way.
So, Sunday morning, I rolled out of the Odell Weeks Recreation Center parking lot at 8:15 in the morning and I rode my bike for seven straight hours. The only exception was that I stopped at every rest stop offered (four, I believe). I also stepped off the road about four other times along the way so that I could drink, and swallow down a fistful of something nutritious while stretching my hamstrings. So, I averaged a three to four minute stop (yes, I used a timer) every thirty minutes. Every independent stop was prompted *deep delicious sigh* ….. by beauty. I stopped when
I absolutely
had
to take a photo.
There are times when I stifle the desire …
and I often reminisce about that “lost” photo …
the capturing of an emotion stirred within my spirit.
I remember the sight …
the smell …
the emotion.
I almost feel like
I left a piece of myself behind
or neglected to bring that emotion
(as seen through my eyes and a camera lens)
into my present
in some tangible form through pixels on a screen.
The average pace of most riders is probably somewhere between 15-20 mph. I have found that my speedometer usually shows that I am traveling around 12 mph.
I run slow (11.5 minute miles, average).
I pedal slow (10-15 miles per hour, average).
WHILE I’m running
or pedaling,
my slower-than-average-speed bothers me not.
But, when I get into conversation with others about speed,
I feel a tiny *twinge* or
inadequacy … especially if they are critical of me in tone or word.
My friend, Anne, has been riding longer than me. She’s long-legged and lean. She’s a long-distance runner. We have attended a few events together of late, but we have not ridden together in the event. In fact, she finished yesterday’s race two full hours before I did.
At one point last week, some chatting was going back and forth on Facebook about Anne and I doing this event and I responded to another friend that Anne and I would not ride together. In fact, I said something like, “Oh, no. Anne and I won’t be riding together. She’s much faster than me. In fact, she will be showered and in her pj’s back in Augusta, sitting on the couch eating bonbons and watching old black and white movies LONG before I even FINISH the event.”
She and I chatted on the phone about the ride after it was over. She ended up riding with a guy who challenged her to pick up her speed a bit and she admitted that she was fairly sore and spent. I shared that I had ridden the entire length alone and was pleasantly surprised that I was not sore at all. I had no neck/shoulder tension. My legs were not tired. My fanny wasn’t even sore from seven hours in the saddle. In fact, had I had my running shoes with me in Aiken, I would have probably run a few miles after I reached the rec center.
Anne pointed out that I had reached my goal. I had finished without injury to find that ….
I had not been pushed physically
so
the next step …
might be to try to ride faster.
As we continued to converse, though,
she mentioned that she remembered the ride that she m.o.s.t e.n.j.o.y.e.d
of all the rides that she has ridden.
It was a ride where she allowed herself to ride a bit slower and
stop along the way to snap photos.
She pointed out that she somehow felt a little uncomfortable
as more focused riders would whiz by her
stopped there on the side of the road …
camera in hand.
She mentioned that she thought about that ride as she rode yesterday
being challenged by this new male friend
to go faster ….
I was reminded of the quote by Emmerson ….
I can relate to her feelings. I’ve written before about how I love to leave early for a trip
and travel alone
because I am then afforded the sweet, gracious freedom
to stop on a whim to take photos along the way.
This makes me soooooo happy. It pleasures me. It fills my soul with richness.
And isn’t that important? Shouldn’t we make allowance …
truly buffer our lives with time for fulfilling
that which causes our soul to soar.
We are each built with at least one strong gift that
makes us tick, fills our life with richness, stirs us to life.
What is that gift for you? Are you nurturing it? Do you pad your life slices of time to slow down and foster that endowment? Do you find ways to share that special present?
Of all of the activities that fill your days,
taking … making time to nurture this gifting
will help your life become richer and more meaningful.
It will energize you for all of your other duties and responsibilities.
It will help you discover a fulfillment that other activities sorely lack.
For how empty is our life … our journey, if we RUSH through it and spend no time
sharing our gifts and encouraging others to share theirs, as well?
As I rode yesterday, I thought about my speed. I rode alone
and I was okay with that …
because I stopped to take a few photos
and I spent seven full hours thinking about spiritual/physical parallels,
life, motivation, relationships, dirt, disappointment, muscle structure, and rain.
I prayed out loud, again pondered JUST.HOW.MANY shades of green God has created,
and considered line upon line from Mary Chapin Carpenter and Alison Krauss
that lilted from my iPod to my ever searching heart.
Soon, I will attend another biking event. I am forming strategies so that I will not be the very.last rider to cross the finish line (like spending less time at rest stops), but I am more comfortable than ever
covering 10-12 miles per hour
and knowing that I will finish injury free
having fully enjoyed every revolution of my pedals.
Yes, this life is a trip … it is an event.
We can rush through it focusing on performance
comparing ourselves to crowd around,
or we can let the pack whiz by …
and make sure to take the time to do that which
fulfills, motivates and envigorates us.
I choose to be slow … on foot, while pedaling, in my speech and most actions.
And I choose to take the time to snap photos along the way.
I want to live an intentional life. I want to impact in a positive way.
I want to share. I want to encourage and uplift … edify and empower.
I want to ask questions that challenge and make people think.
I want to focus on enjoying the ride
more than finishing the event.
- Makes Me Happy Monday: SAG Wagons
As with any organized event involving exercise and hundreds of people, there tends to an accident, emergency, or struggle somewhere along the way. Bike events often cover long distances and have several routes that travel in different directions. To keep riders safe, there are people who drive the routes in their cars carrying help for anyone in trouble. They often have bottles of water, food and supplies like a bicycle pump and first aid kit to offer assistance. Most vehicles are mounted with a bicycle rack to carry the bike (and rider) in serious trouble to the finish line, if need be. Because these helpers are carrying “supplies and gear,” they are referred to as SAG wagons.
There is usually an assigned SAG wagon to sweep the route, making sure every rider makes it to the end safely.
Meet Robert.
He was the SAG wagon driver for the 68 mile route that I rode on Sunday on the Aiken Bicycle Club’s event called Aiken to Ride.
Having a terrible sense of direction combined with the fact that I am a very, very slow rider always leaves me trembling out on the road. I know that I have the potential in any event
to get lost
or completely left behind.
But, Robert was faithful. By the end of the route, we had spoken at every rest stop and he had passed me several times while I was out pedaling. I gave him the “thumbs up” sign repeatedly …
but it was so comforting knowing that ….
should I need help,
he WOULD be coming back to check on me.
And if he didn’t see me, he would search for me.
We all need a SAG wagon in our lives, don’t we?
We need someone who is watching out for us
and will come along with a wet beverage to hydrate
or an encouraging word to energize.
God didn’t put us on this big blue and green globe to live solitary lives.
He filled our world with others.
At times we drive the support car ….
and others we are the lone pedaler pulling up the rear of the crowd.
I am thankful that Robert was out there on the road yesterday.
His presence gave me great comfort.
Oh, that I might be a SAG wagon to those around me
who might be weak or discouraged ….
and that I might be humble enough to reach out
when I find myself in need.
SAG wagons Make Me Happy today.
What makes YOU happy this marvelous Monday morning?
Like this:
- I dropped my boyfriend
Seriously.
I …. literally ….. dropped my boyfriend.
The word came up time … and … time … again.
He would use it.
Then it would spill from my thoughts …. right into conversation
moving …. liquid … invisible yet quivering.
Believing with all.my.being that
there are no accidents …. there is no “chance,”
I thought it no happenstance that we were each
grappling in some way with
T.R.U.S.T.
Each time I have traveled to his home, I have taken a small gift or two. I plan ahead. I am intentional. I make him a card … or I pick up some sort of trinket along the way that I tuck into a drawer, leave on the dresser or place on a window sill. At Valentine’s, I left a post-it note pad with a heart printed on each.sticky.little.page. I tucked a wrapped gift of soft and yummy Life Is Good pj’s in a hiding spot after one trip. I called him on a special day to ask him to go look in that same spot so he might discover the surprise. Just before Easter, I left an amber cross on his kitchen window sill with a few Scrabble trays supporting the blocks to spell the message “EASTER BRINGS HOPE.”
We all need “hope,” don’t we?
I have left a sweet note on his pillow,
the words “You are wonderful” scratched on lined notebook paper,
and cards of all shapes and sorts … all handmade ….
dreamed, created and left behind with love.
Then there was the smooth, river rock
…. a beautiful velvety, round stone …..
like the one above
with the word “TRUST” painted on it’s slick, dark surface.
Back in November, I bought a few discounted tickets to a rock climbing gym. I was in no rush to use them because I knew that every month I waited to redeem the passes was another month that I grew stronger as I worked out at the gym, ran and biked. But, the expiration date drew near and when I was on a recent visit to Norcross, Stone and I went to Adrenaline Climbing in Suwanee to try to scurry our way to the top of those knobbed walls.
The gym was per.fect. The walls were challenging enough that we could learn how to maneuver
without the daunting feeling of being surrounded by climbers with spider blood running through their veins.
The gym was big enough to have experienced climbers to watch without being crowded.
Our trainer was a young, strapping fella who taught us more in ten minutes
than we had learned in our several visits to the Bass Pro Shop wall .
It was really good to get some strong, helpful instruction.
But, even with the quality instruction, I still had a gut feeling that I didn’t know enough.
I asked question upon question as is my wiring and inclination.
My questions were answered and my fears calmed.
No. I wouldn’t be lifted off the ground as I belayed Stone down from the wall’s height.
Yes, the belay equipment (grigri) would even out the difference between
Stone’s 210 muscular body mass and my 135 lighter frame.
No. I wouldn’t drop my boyfriend.
“Really,” I was assured by my instructor, “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
There it was again.
This was yet another exercise in …. “trust.”
With a deep, cleansing breath, I said “Okay,” and we began.
Stone climbed high and, with guidance standing right at my side,
I helped him repel back down safely.
We made the reciprocal move with me climbing and Stone keeping me safe.
Piece of cake, it was. I had nothing to fear. With a pat on the back and a quick, “You got it,”
Matthew stepped away and Stone and I were on our own.
At first, the distance between the ground and my weak hands gripping the multi-colored nodes concerned me. But, I began to feel comfortable. This was challenging, but still fun. Stone did an excellent job of slowly lowering me down. Smooth and gentle. He was awesome … which was no surprise. He’s strong, agile and athletic. I knew I was safe with him at the other end of the rope.
It’s quite amazing how little true strength it takes to control the rope that winds through the Grigri system. You can easily hold someone suspended with a single hand …
but I tended to use a wide open stance of my legs
- my body size, weight and strength comparatively small to his -
and hold the rope with BOTH hands …. for good measure.
On my first “solo” experience as the belay on the ground, I was a wee bit too cautious with the release of the rope. I don’t think Stone’s harness was seated properly and
I stopped the rope too quickly
and found myself
LIFTED up off the ground
and moved towards the wall by about five or six feet ….
When I was still again,
he was hanging in the air
suspended and
pinched painfully between his legs the the harness.
I was so embarrassed.
I was sad that I had not learned properly … that my fears had some true … that I had “hurt” my friend …
and that I was evidently a sloppy listener and could not follow instructions well.
Knowing that the experience is painful, I was determined NOT to let that happen again.
So, Stone went back up for another try on a nearby wall.
was actually
more of a monumental failure
than the previous smooth move
that may have left him unable to father children again.
With the release latch tight in hand,about half way down the wall
when I was given the word “go,”
I opened the latch too graciously
which allowed my 210 pound friend
to free-fall … at least 15 feet …. and
hit the mat with a loud, knock-the-breath-out-of-you THUD.
I could have died.
I know I turned red.
I was embarrassed … terribly so.
But, oh-s0-much-more-than-that ….
I was so very, very angry at myself.
This “exercise in trust”
proved that I didn’t have what it takes.
I had feared in my gut that I didn’t have what it took to be efficient
and I found out I was right.
My head spun with thoughts of all the spiritual/physical parallels.
It rocks with doubts of my abilities, trustworthiness and strengths.
Stone has never seen my cry ….
He has seen me tear up a few times,
but never has a tear streamed down my face in front of him.
But I warned him that afternoon
while I stood there furious and disappointed
that I might very well just melt.into.a.puddle
right there on that cushioned climbing gym floor.
We climbed a bit more. I didn’t drop Stone again. And he was never really mad at me.
I think he knew how upset I was with myself. He wasn’t injured physically.
If there was injury ….
I’m afraid it may have been more within me.
I trusted a man to instruct me in the caring of the life of a friend.
I listened to a young man who doesn’t know my caution,
my strength and abilities.
I listened to a young man who is comfortable and confident at belaying ….
though I knew almost nothing at all about it.
I listened to a trainer who is a
different age, gender, strength and ability
and I trusted him when my inclination was to stand trembling.
I should have listened to my gut.
I should have been more cautious ….
more careful ….
more …… something!
But, there it was …
I really was
u.n.t.r.u.s.t.w.o.r.t.h.y.
I didn’t have what it takes.
My weakness and inability …
my lack of strength, knowledge and understanding ….
put someone else in danger.
My mind reels with the spiritual/physical parallels.
The enemy tells me that I cannot be trusted.
And …. well …..
this is truth: I don’t have what it takes.
I should trust my gut on this one.
I don’t have the strength, knowledge or understanding to keep someone else safe from harm.
I am often not weighty enough to counter-balance what I am up against.
I can be fitted with the right equipment, but may still miss the mark.
I can be instructed, but I won’t always “get it.”
The greater the distance from my trainer, the more likely I am to make a mistake.
There is a grip that is best … not too tight and not too loose.
Too much variance in either direction can put others – or myself – in harm’s way.
The One to trust here is not myself, but my God.
With the instruction of God’s word, I find myself properly equipped and directed.
With God’s Holy Spirit, I have a trainer at my side
to lead and guide me through every relationship I encounter.
With Christ’s reminder, I can experience grace and mercy
to forgive myself for my shortcomings.
I need not beat myself up for not being well-equipped.
If I were strong enough, smart enough, experienced enough,
and heavy enough ….
I would have no need of God.
But, truly, I need Him. I need Him to guide me
every.step.of.my.days …
that I might not cause injury
or harm
to those whose lives I touch.
Oh, that I would be t.r.u.s.t.w.o.r.t.h.y
in this adventurous life …
of relationships.
