Changing Lanes

Picture this: you’re driving down the interstate and you see great big orange road signs that say “Right Lane Closed – 2 Miles Ahead.”  How many people merge left right away? How many people merge left in one mile? How many people zoom ahead as fast as they can in the soon-to-be-closed right lane, put on their brakes just shy of the cones, and then cut somebody off to move left?

image source: TCP Signs

People who don’t know (or just don’t care) how to merge are one of my biggest pet peeves. Unfortunately, I can hardly drive anywhere in Memphis without encountering places where merging is required. If everyone would just merge as soon as possible, traffic wouldn’t even have to slow down. People who wait until the last second to merge not only make the rest of us have to slow down, they inevitably slow themselves down, and they’re more likely to cause an accident. It makes me batty that there are ALWAYS people who just don’t get that.

Yesterday afternoon, my self-righteous attitude while driving suddenly crumbled when I remembered a Bible verse I had focused on during my journal time earlier this week. The verse was Proverbs 29:1, which reads:

“One who is often reproved, yet remains stubborn,

will suddenly be broken beyond healing.”

I’ve been feeling rather off-kilter lately, and this verse prompted me to take a hard look at some areas in my life that need fixing. Some are in my control and some are not, but I can still work on my attitude and response towards those I can’t control. There’s just one problem: enacting change is HARD! I’d much rather passively go along with change that happens around me, like summer changing to fall. Most of life just doesn’t work that way, though, and if I stubbornly continue to resist change, to keep doing things the way I already do, then eventually things will end up beyond my ability to repair them.

I’m not sure when or even why I had written “The time to change is NOW!” in the margin next to this verse, but it may be even more true today than ever before. In these areas of my life, I’m driving in a lane that’s going to end, and I know it. If I don’t merge soon I’m going to cause a lot of trouble at best, and crash at worst.

For example, one of the issues (sadly not even close to being the only one… my list was pretty substantial) that I identified in my journal is my weight, which has been on the rise since Big Boy’s job drama began over a year ago. I can definitely tell my body is getting older: it’s harder to exercise, easier to gain weight, and much harder to “bounce back.” The longer I put off getting control of my weight, the harder it’s going to be!

Ecclesiastes 11:4  says, “Whoever observes the wind will not sow; and whoever regards the clouds will not reap.” In other words, a farmer who only goes out on days with perfect weather won’t get any work done. A driver who waits until there are zero cars around to change lanes will find herself stopped in front of a line of orange cones. Or, as Stephanie of the blog Homegrown Hospitality put it (I LOVE her handwriting and her “doodles,” as she calls them!):

image source: Homegrown Hospitality

So it turns out I’m not any better than those drivers who don’t merge well, thereby inconveniencing everybody else. Dang.

Are there any road signs in your life that you aren’t heeding? What is stopping you from changing lanes? What might happen if you wait?

Thanks be to God, who never ignores us, and who gives us the grace and the promise that nothing – not even our stubbornness! – can change his love for us or break his relationship with us beyond repair!

“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord.”

- Romans 8:38-39

The Doorman

I like suburban-on-the-verge-of-rural life. It’s got the convenience and orderliness of the suburbs, the quiet and beauty of the country, and the art and culture of the city all within easy distance. I like to be on the ground floor (especially when tornado sirens are blaring, like they did last night) and see greens and blues when I look out my window. There is one thing, however, about downtown high-rise living that I think I would love: having a doorman. It would just make my day for someone to greet me with a smile and a pleasant word every time I went in or out (not to mention hold the door open when my arms are full of groceries!). I’ve told Big Boy before that the difference between his job and mine is that, when he walks in the door, he thinks “Ahh, I’m home;” when I walk in, I think “Ugh, I’m home.” A friendly doorman would certainly make coming home to whatever mess and mayhem await me much less “ugh.”

This morning, I experienced life with a doorman – not the typical kind in a neatly pressed uniform, but a suburban-on-the-verge-of-rural kind. I had just gone through the usual brain-aching madness that is getting Boy 1 ready for school (while Boy 2 does everything he can to distract Boy 1, as if Boy 1 needed help getting distracted), and seeing this big guy a few feet from my door changed my whole mood in about 2 nanoseconds.

He was still there when Boy 2 and I returned about 25 minutes later.  “Hello again,” I told him. “Welcome home,” I like to think he told me (although he probably was really thinking, “You’re not going to point that camera at me again, are you?”).

Psalm 65:8 (The Message) says,

Far and wide they’ll come to a stop,

they'll stare in awe, in wonder.

       Dawn and dusk take turns

                   calling, “Come and worship.”

My temporary doorman did make me stop and stare in awe and wonder, at least for a minute. Frogs are amazing, aren’t they? They’re even beautiful, in their own way. Like many creatures, frogs give me a glimpse of God’s boundless imagination. I mean, seriously, people think up some pretty incredible stuff, but do you think a human being would ever have invented a frog? I don’t. So even though he’s gone now, the gift of his presence still calls me, like the morning sun, to come and worship.

Fall into Reading!

I recently came upon a fall-themed blog meme I hadn’t seen before: Fall into Reading, hosted by Callapidder Days. Basically, you come up with a list of books you hope to read or finish reading this fall, and when winter comes you report on how it went. I think it’s fun to see what other people are reading, so I’ve decided to hop on the hayride and make my own Fall into Reading goals!

Many of these books I found on my multiple trips to Borders when they were going out of business. A few books, those marked with a *, I don’t actually have in my possession. Those will probably be the hardest to check off. Maybe that will encourage me (now that I finally have a TN driver’s license) to go get a library card!

Fiction:

Pie Town by Lynne Hinton. To date, I have read three books by Lynne Hinton (see below) and loved them all, so I was thrilled to find her newest creation on the shelf at Borders.

Friendship Cake by Lynne Hinton. Friendship Cake was the first of Lynne’s books I ever read. Shortly after I read it, I gave it away to someone I thought needed it. Since then I’ve also read Christmas Cake and Wedding Cake, about the same core group of friends. Each character has a distinct (and often colorful) personality, yet they come together so well; it reminds me of some of my dear girlfriends back home. Anyway, I’ve decided it’s time to re-read this book. By the way, Lynne Hinton is also a native North Carolinian, and her sister (who is also very gifted) is a friend of my family’s. I’m crossing my fingers that I’ll get to meet her someday… [Side note: my original copy of Friendship Cake looked like the picture at left, but my new one has a different cover. Just a head's up in case you go looking for it.]

Time is a River by Mary Alice Monroe. The story takes place in the mountains near Asheville, NC. Need I really say more? Well, okay… earlier this year I read and enjoyed The Four Seasons by the same author, and a friend has recommended another of her books, The Butterfly’s Daughter, so when I saw this one at Borders I decided to spring for it.

I’ll Be Home for Christmas by Julie L. Cannon. This was a totally random Borders find. I’m not sure, but I think it may be Christian fiction. What mostly attracted me to it is that it’s set during WWII and its main character, Maggie, signs up for the U.S. Navy WAVES. Many years ago I read a funny memoir by a woman who was in the WAVES, which endeared itself to me so much that it made me want to read this, too. Although this challenge (if you can really call it that) is technically for fall, I’ll definitely be in the mood to read some Christmasy stuff before it’s over.

Christmas Jars by Jason F. Wright. Christmas + jars… two of my favorite things! Plus, this one looks short enough to read in one day without totally ignoring my motherly and wifely duties. I didn't realize it when I put it in my shopping basket, but the same author also wrote the very touching novel The Wednesday Letters, which I coincidentally happened to be reading when a family member suddenly and unexpectedly died last year (on a Sunday - which has meaning in the book).

Nonfiction:

No Wonder They Call Him the Savior by Max Lucado.* This is the next book on its way to me from Booksneeze. In it, prolific and highly regarded Christian author and minister Max Lucado takes an up-close, unvarnished look at the Cross and the events surrounding it.

The Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers Discovered the Hidden Gospels by Janet Soskice.  This is the true tale of Agnes and Margaret Smith, two middle-aged, fearless, Scottish, identical twin sisters with a thirst for adventure and a knack for language, who in the late 1800’s discovered and translated one of the oldest known copies of the Gospels in a monastery in the Middle East. Doesn’t that sound like a story worth reading? It does to me!

Who Was Johnny Appleseed? by Joan Holub. This book is one in a series of biographies written for children and published by Grosset & Dunlap (a division of Penguin). Boy 1 and I started this book together a while back, but it got set aside… and probably got something put on top of it. Apple season is the perfect time for us to finish it!

How Do You Tuck in a Superhero? And Other Delightful Mysteries of Raising Boys by Rachel Balducci.* I have come to appreciate, love, and be extremely thankful for other parents of boys. As a mom of two “all boy” boys, there are times (many, many, many times) when I need insight, understanding, and especially grace that only other parents of boys can really give.

Food Rules: An Eater’s Manual by Michael Pollan.* Michael Pollan is one of THE champions for nature-friendly farming and food production practices. This handy-dandy book is kind of a summary of all his knowledge in the form of some simple principles for eating well.

The Church Mouse: Leadership Lessons from the Magic Kingdom by Christopher Perry.* This book has been on my reading wish list for several months, especially since I wrote this Disney-inspired post about my/our emotional response to worship. I really want to revisit this topic, but I’ve been waiting to read this book first with the hopes that it might help inform my reflections. So I guess I should get on that, huh?

That makes eleven books... I see that I won’t be getting much done around the house on the days when Boy 2 is in preschool! Do you have any particular reading plans for this season? Feel free to join in the Fall into Reading challenge or just leave me a comment! (Like pretty much every blogger, I ♥ comments!)

"Sink" the Lord

Washing dishes is my least favorite household duty.  One reason for my dislike of dish washing is that there are no windows in our apartment’s kitchen, and I miss being able to look out at trees, flowers, and wildlife while I work. The other main reason is that it presents itself so stinkin’ often – multiple times a day, every day.  And it’s never really done – there is always at least one dish in use somewhere. It seems like every time I finish a big pile of dishes, I walk into another room and discover an empty cup just sitting there, taunting me. I know that cup wasn’t there before. It hid until all the other dishes were done.

source: chubbygirlcomics.com 

Normally, I give myself the task of washing all the dishes (that I can find) before I go to bed each night. There’s just something about clean countertops that makes the morning a little better (plus, it guarantees we’ll have clean bowls for our cereal). Sometimes, though, I’ll have a night when I just look at them and say “nope.” Saturday night was one of those nights.

Maybe the subconscious knowledge that a pile of dirty dishes was waiting for me influenced my hearing of the scripture read in church yesterday morning, but I declare to you that the pastor said “sink” before correcting himself and saying “seek [the LORD’s] presence continually” (Psalm 105:4b).

Immediately the image of my full sink and dried-chili-coated slow cooker filled my mind, and it occurred to me that, especially since I moved here, the kitchen sink is one place I don’t tend to seek the Lord’s presence, one place I don’t often give thanks, (105:1), sing praises (105:2), or remember his wonderful works (105:5).  If I focus on anything while washing dishes, it’s getting the job over and done with. I have no doubt, though, that God is present there. In about 30 seconds’ time, before the pastor had moved on to the prayer, I had come up with a mental list of blessings indicated by a sink of dirty dishes:

• Dirty dishes mean food has been consumed. Having food is a blessing we take for granted far too often.

• A sink means indoor plumbing. Hallelujah for indoor plumbing!

• Indoor plumbing means clean water. Again, there’s a blessing we take for granted every day.

• The number of dishes reflects the number of people who eat here. I love my family!

• I also love serving my family. Cooking for them and washing their dishes are both ways I can serve and bless them.

• Even more basic: I CAN stand. I CAN use my hands. Not everyone can, and there may come a day when I can’t anymore. Hard as it is to believe, there could come a day when I’ll wish I could stand at the sink and wash.

• Yea, though I stand at the mountain of dirty dishes, the Lord is with me. The Lord is with me EVERYWHERE. Amen!

Washing dishes may never be my favorite part of the day, but it needn’t be my least favorite. It doesn’t have to be so bad that I have to make myself do it. It can be a place and time where I seek the Lord’s presence.

Now, since I like being cute and creative, and since all my pretty papers and crafty supplies are in storage (with a lot of other things I’ve come to wish I hadn’t packed away), I spent my Sunday afternoon playing working on Picnik to make a printable reminder of the lesson my pastor unintentionally imparted upon me. While I did that (and without my asking), Big Boy did the dishes. J

If you would like have the fruits of my Sunday afternoon “labor” to hang over your sink or wherever you need to be reminded to seek God’s presence, right-click on the image and save it to your computer. Laminate it (clear contact paper works great) if you’re going to put it where water may splash. 

Remembering

Last weekend, we went to Great Grandpa's lake house in the mountains of north Georgia. The weather was perfect until Monday, when we drove back. Before the sun came up, the remains of what had been Tropical Storm Lee reached us, and stayed on top of us all the way from Georgia into the southwest corner of North Carolina, the southeast corner of Tennessee, and across northern Alabama and Mississippi. It was not a great day for driving or seeing the country go by. I don't normally get nervous riding, but seeing the sheer walls of Lookout Mountain above me on one side and below me on the other, heading almost straight down into the churning Tennessee River, made my heart beat considerably faster than normal. I think Big Boy's heart beat pretty quickly several times as we drove through "puddles" (that word is understated to the point of ridiculousness) wider than the road.

Somewhere in northwest Mississippi, we spied the back edge of the storm ahead, and all of a sudden the air around us took on this glowing, golden, almost surreal quality.  I just knew there was a rainbow somewhere. My breath caught in my throat as I looked out my window, and right beside me was the biggest rainbow I think I've ever seen. 

When I turned to the backseat to see if the boys were looking, I saw the other end of the rainbow out the back window, and my breath caught all over again.

Big Boy didn't even have to ask me if I wanted him to find a place to pull over and let me get out with my camera. The rainbow was so big that I could barely get half of it in one shot.

As we continued west the rainbow inevitably faded, but the heavenly show didn't stop. The sun came out from beneath the clouds and turned them a myriad of colors as it descended. 

We rode on, mesmerized, until the daylight was completely gone.

Today, September 11, our country and much of the world has been observing the anniversary of the terrorist attacks that happened ten years ago. I have not turned on the TV and have barely looked at the Internet. I was relieved that my church did not show any videos or pictures from that day as we worshiped and remembered. The reason: I don't need anyone to remind me what I saw ten years ago. I can call those images up in my brain as easily as I turned on the TV that morning. Other folks may need to see them again as part of their own remembrance, their own process of honoring and reflecting; but for me, I find it more necessary to look again at these pictures of skies full of promise and beauty. 

The first mention of a rainbow in the Bible is, as I'm sure you remember, at the end of the story of Noah and the flood. Noah and his family had endured the worst experience imaginable - an experience surely unimaginable before it happened. In the 350 years Noah lived after the flood, I bet he never forgot exactly what it looked, felt, sounded, or smelled like in that ark. I bet he never turned to his wife and said, "you remember those forty days and nights of rain?" I bet he never wanted to see so much as a rowboat ever again. But rainbows? I suspect Noah never tired of seeing rainbows. 

Rainbows are the ultimate symbol of survival. Rainbows remind us that God can and will bring us through even the unimaginable. It's no wonder, then, that there's also a rainbow at the end of the Bible, in the book of Revelation, where in John's vision he sees the throne of God encircled by a rainbow (Rev. 4:3). I like to think that those who didn't make it through September 11 in the earthly sense saw the very same rainbow. I also like to think that it's bigger and brighter even than the one God showed Noah, bigger and brighter than the one God showed me in Mississippi.

May we never forget.

For the Record

It is September 6, 2011. As I type, it is 1:52 p.m. I am sitting outside, in Memphis, and I don’t feel like my internal organs are baking. To the contrary, I’d call this weather pert’ near perfect. (That’s “pretty near,” i.e., “almost,” for any non-Southerners who may be reading.)

At 9:30 this morning, Boy 2 began his last first day of preschool. He walked right into his classroom and didn’t even notice when I left. I did not take any pictures because we were all a little hectic and crazy this morning after getting home from our weekend away past bedtime last night. And anyway, Boy 2 insisted on wearing his brown t-shirt with glow-in-the-dark eyes on it (a very cool shirt, but not exactly photogenic). He also needs a haircut, big time. Provided his hair and wardrobe and our morning management are improved, we can take “going to school” photos on Thursday.

At 10:00 this morning I had my first cup of hot coffee since April, at least. (I don’t drink coffee when it’s hot outside.)

At 12:15 this afternoon I became an official Tennessee resident with an official Tennessee driver’s license.

At 12:30 I discovered a farm at the end of a dead-end road that sells fresh eggs. In a little stand at the end of their driveway, labeled “Egg Shack,” sits a dorm-sized refrigerator full of eggs and a box to put your money in. I can hardly wait to go back with some cash and my camera.

And now it’s 2:00. I’m going to sit here and read for the next few minutes before going to pick up Boy 2.

Sometimes pleasant, ordinary days just need to be documented. These little blessings are postcards from heaven worth keeping in a memory box.

I hope you’re enjoying your day as much as I am enjoying mine!