Friends,
I don't usually do this, but today I felt compelled. Please go to my friend, Beverly Brandon's blog and read about Cyd Mizell. (www.beverly-brandon.blogspot.com) You can post a comment to her family, if you wish.
Cyd was living the life of a true barbaric soul. She heard the call. She puts the face on what I have been blogging about for the past two weeks. And today, her death helps me put my life in greater perspective. I am beyond moved.
How incredible the reunion must have been in heaven on the day Cyd arrived!
"And how will anyone go and tell them without being sent? That is why the Scriptures say, 'How beautiful are the feet of messengers who bring good news!'”Romans 10:15
Lisa
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Call of the Not-So Wild (Dissatisfaction with Life – Part 2)
So, picture this.
I’m sitting on the tarmac in Newark, waiting to hear from the captain as to whether or not we are going to be allowed to take off. Snow pellets, I hear him say, and something about de-icing the wings for the third time, and get comfortable for a few more minutes and he will keep us posted. I was far from comfortable, and I doubted I could get that way. Something about dwelling thousands of feet in the air in the middle of a snow storm with no front or side air bags was currently turning me off.
It didn’t help that the woman sitting beside me was as close to hysteria as I have personally ever seen. In the few short minutes I had been by her, she had fluctuated between crying…sighing…moaning…and gasping…all while clutching the cross around her neck and squeezing a picture of her three girls. Her children, I presumed.
I would have asked her, but clearly, she was in no mood to talk.
I took the cue, relieved to be alone with my own set of fears. While my baby girl and mom were occupying seats on the other side of the aisle, I was praying a really ambiguous prayer of Lord, please clear up the weather so we can get outta here…and Lord, please don’t let us fly tonight in this icy mess. Clearly, I was conflicted.
Nervous, I decided I needed some comfort food. I dug through my bag to find my favorite Bible. I flipped to the ever-soothing book of Psalm and began to chew on and slowly, swallow Truth. I read about my God’s might…I read about His love…I read about His care. I read about how He was “in charge of the seas and the air and the winds.” I felt my heart calming as I reminded myself of His authority, goodness and grace. He’s got plans for me, I thought. I’m sure I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. The verses I read proved it to me, I was certain.
With thoughts of His sovereignty filling my head, I barely heard the captain’s voice on the intercom system. We have the ok to fly…Seventh in line… is what he said. Part of me was happy to be on my way home, but part of me wanted to go back to get comfortable for a few minutes and he would keep us posted. I could tell the woman beside me was wrestling with these same thoughts. Too bad neither one of us got a vote.
Our very bumpy take-off was followed by a very bumpy ascent, coupled with a very bumpy entrance into the clouds. Determined to keep my mind off of my fear, I decided to crack open the book I brought with me, one I had for a long time but had never got around to reading. I anticipated a great read because it was written by one of my very favorite authors, Erwin McManus.
Knowing the way McManus writes, I should’ve had a clue that it might not be as comfortable as reading one of the Psalms. After all, McManus is not a PC, pacifying, feel-good writer, which is, incidentally, one of the reasons I love to read his stuff. That man speaks truthful words that cut right to my heart.
So I began to read.
10 pages into The Barbarian Way, I was looking for the nearest literary exit. It was so raw. So over-the-top. So risky. Not comfortable at all.
I read about the warriors…the barbarians…the spiritual zealots…the fanatics…all of whom were led by some innate primal call to live impassioned lives for their One True love… Jesus Christ. The journeys of these seemingly loose cannons were risky, challenging, dangerous, complicated, and raw. Some, like John, had violent endings. A once locust-eating longhaired eccentric who lived for God and loved Him passionately despite the fact that God didn’t come through for him like most of us think, hope and pray He will for us if faced with his set of circumstances. In the end, John lost his head but didn’t lose his faith.
Man.
In the midst of my reading, suddenly my Christianity didn’t feel quite so comfortable anymore. It didn’t feel quite so safe and secure. It felt scary…out there…and, at the same time…strangely exciting.
I started thinking about my own set of “what ifs.” What if, in the midst of me living a sold out life for God, He allowed me to suffer in some way? What if He didn’t come through for me like I thought He would or should? What if His plan for my life didn’t include a fantastic ending to an amazingly charmed life with no tangible turbulence or even, crash landings? What then? Did I try to make my Jesus fit into a mold of what I thought He should do for me rather than opting for a life of complete deference to His plans? What if those plans included things that were risky, uncontrollable, and even frightening?
My domesticated side just couldn’t deal with this thought.
But my inner wild child couldn’t bear the thought of living any other way.
As I continued to read, suddenly, the turbulence of the plane felt safer than sitting on the runway. It felt strangely familiar and calming, though weird and radical all at the same time. It felt like a truer picture of the Christian life than I at first wanted to see. It felt more honest than the smooth and turbulence-free ride that I had initially hoped for. It felt risky, and yet, it felt real.
Still, hearing the captain’s voice saying we were going to be landing was a welcome sound. I was ready to be on solid ground, again. The descent was as bumpy as I had expected. Few things had changed since our turbulent take-off a few hours before. The woman beside me was still clutching her cross and crying. My mom and baby girl were still occupying the seats across the aisle. And I was still praying.
Except for now, the prayer was different than before…
Lord, stir the barbaric soul within me.
Now, as then, I want to be fully alive and in the moment. I want to live in such a way that I don’t have to feel safe all the time to feel good. I want to have my heart stirred and awakened and even…terrified…if that is what it means to be fully satisfied. I am convinced John was, even in the face of imminent death. Because though Jesus doesn’t always offer the safe road, He always offers the road more fulfilling.
A smooth ride may get you there with less heart palpitations. But when Jesus is the destination, the ride is really irrelevant.
My, my. What a turbulent plane trip, a good McManus book and the call of a sovereign Tribe Leader will do for you.
Lisa
P.S. Next Monday I will conclude with Part 3 of this series. Sometimes our greatest dissatisfactions in life are not with God, but within ourselves. Come and read how one woman in the Bible got past her self to find her true satisfaction.
I’m sitting on the tarmac in Newark, waiting to hear from the captain as to whether or not we are going to be allowed to take off. Snow pellets, I hear him say, and something about de-icing the wings for the third time, and get comfortable for a few more minutes and he will keep us posted. I was far from comfortable, and I doubted I could get that way. Something about dwelling thousands of feet in the air in the middle of a snow storm with no front or side air bags was currently turning me off.
It didn’t help that the woman sitting beside me was as close to hysteria as I have personally ever seen. In the few short minutes I had been by her, she had fluctuated between crying…sighing…moaning…and gasping…all while clutching the cross around her neck and squeezing a picture of her three girls. Her children, I presumed.
I would have asked her, but clearly, she was in no mood to talk.
I took the cue, relieved to be alone with my own set of fears. While my baby girl and mom were occupying seats on the other side of the aisle, I was praying a really ambiguous prayer of Lord, please clear up the weather so we can get outta here…and Lord, please don’t let us fly tonight in this icy mess. Clearly, I was conflicted.
Nervous, I decided I needed some comfort food. I dug through my bag to find my favorite Bible. I flipped to the ever-soothing book of Psalm and began to chew on and slowly, swallow Truth. I read about my God’s might…I read about His love…I read about His care. I read about how He was “in charge of the seas and the air and the winds.” I felt my heart calming as I reminded myself of His authority, goodness and grace. He’s got plans for me, I thought. I’m sure I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. The verses I read proved it to me, I was certain.
With thoughts of His sovereignty filling my head, I barely heard the captain’s voice on the intercom system. We have the ok to fly…Seventh in line… is what he said. Part of me was happy to be on my way home, but part of me wanted to go back to get comfortable for a few minutes and he would keep us posted. I could tell the woman beside me was wrestling with these same thoughts. Too bad neither one of us got a vote.
Our very bumpy take-off was followed by a very bumpy ascent, coupled with a very bumpy entrance into the clouds. Determined to keep my mind off of my fear, I decided to crack open the book I brought with me, one I had for a long time but had never got around to reading. I anticipated a great read because it was written by one of my very favorite authors, Erwin McManus.
Knowing the way McManus writes, I should’ve had a clue that it might not be as comfortable as reading one of the Psalms. After all, McManus is not a PC, pacifying, feel-good writer, which is, incidentally, one of the reasons I love to read his stuff. That man speaks truthful words that cut right to my heart.
So I began to read.
10 pages into The Barbarian Way, I was looking for the nearest literary exit. It was so raw. So over-the-top. So risky. Not comfortable at all.
I read about the warriors…the barbarians…the spiritual zealots…the fanatics…all of whom were led by some innate primal call to live impassioned lives for their One True love… Jesus Christ. The journeys of these seemingly loose cannons were risky, challenging, dangerous, complicated, and raw. Some, like John, had violent endings. A once locust-eating longhaired eccentric who lived for God and loved Him passionately despite the fact that God didn’t come through for him like most of us think, hope and pray He will for us if faced with his set of circumstances. In the end, John lost his head but didn’t lose his faith.
Man.
In the midst of my reading, suddenly my Christianity didn’t feel quite so comfortable anymore. It didn’t feel quite so safe and secure. It felt scary…out there…and, at the same time…strangely exciting.
I started thinking about my own set of “what ifs.” What if, in the midst of me living a sold out life for God, He allowed me to suffer in some way? What if He didn’t come through for me like I thought He would or should? What if His plan for my life didn’t include a fantastic ending to an amazingly charmed life with no tangible turbulence or even, crash landings? What then? Did I try to make my Jesus fit into a mold of what I thought He should do for me rather than opting for a life of complete deference to His plans? What if those plans included things that were risky, uncontrollable, and even frightening?
My domesticated side just couldn’t deal with this thought.
But my inner wild child couldn’t bear the thought of living any other way.
As I continued to read, suddenly, the turbulence of the plane felt safer than sitting on the runway. It felt strangely familiar and calming, though weird and radical all at the same time. It felt like a truer picture of the Christian life than I at first wanted to see. It felt more honest than the smooth and turbulence-free ride that I had initially hoped for. It felt risky, and yet, it felt real.
Still, hearing the captain’s voice saying we were going to be landing was a welcome sound. I was ready to be on solid ground, again. The descent was as bumpy as I had expected. Few things had changed since our turbulent take-off a few hours before. The woman beside me was still clutching her cross and crying. My mom and baby girl were still occupying the seats across the aisle. And I was still praying.
Except for now, the prayer was different than before…
Lord, stir the barbaric soul within me.
Now, as then, I want to be fully alive and in the moment. I want to live in such a way that I don’t have to feel safe all the time to feel good. I want to have my heart stirred and awakened and even…terrified…if that is what it means to be fully satisfied. I am convinced John was, even in the face of imminent death. Because though Jesus doesn’t always offer the safe road, He always offers the road more fulfilling.
A smooth ride may get you there with less heart palpitations. But when Jesus is the destination, the ride is really irrelevant.
My, my. What a turbulent plane trip, a good McManus book and the call of a sovereign Tribe Leader will do for you.
Lisa
P.S. Next Monday I will conclude with Part 3 of this series. Sometimes our greatest dissatisfactions in life are not with God, but within ourselves. Come and read how one woman in the Bible got past her self to find her true satisfaction.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Rest.
So today I realized I need some serious rest.
We took the kids to a hockey game last night with our good friends. We all had a great time, and I knew going into it that the kid’s bedtime would be later than usual. But what I did not anticipate was that after putting the kids to bed, I was going to catch a very temporary and sudden case of insomnia and stay up until nearly 1:00am watching DVR’d shows I’d missed while watching grown men throw down on the ice for two plus hours. Why is it that people like hockey? I forget.
So I am tired today. Have been all day. But if I’m honest, I’ll admit that it has much less to do with a late night and much more to do with all the pressures I am feeling right now to get all my “stuff” done. Yes, it’s important stuff. But it is making me truly exhausted.
So today as I was in my bathroom getting ready for the day, all my weariness hit me at once. As is my custom, I was taking inventory of the things pressing down on me and formulating plans to get them all done -- methodically, matter-of-factly, with the goal in mind. It was then that the plan took an unexpected turn, and I started to cry. Surprised at my reaction, I went straight to my Father with my tears.
Me(the frustrated and emotional one): “Lord, I can’t make this stuff happen. It’s just not possible. (Listing things off…) How can I do this…and that…and the other…and then this…and something else? I just can’t do it. I simply cannot do it all.”
Him (the strong, yet soft spoken One): “Lisa, rest. Just rest.”
A woman of logic, I immediately began to protest this suggestion.
Me (the stubborn and opinionated one): “But Lord, you know I can’t stop and rest. I have deadlines. I have people counting on me. I have to keep going, and I don’t have time to rest. Why on earth would you suggest that I do that when I am just telling you how much I have to do?”
Him (the omni-scient and oh-so-patient One): “Because you need it.”
Far be it from me to be sarcastic with God, but I really felt like inserting the word, Duh, here. Instead, though, I stopped…paused…and let His words sink down into my soul. Because, well…God doesn’t say anything that isn’t stop-worthy, if you know what I mean. Suddenly I knew He wasn’t talking about getting physical sleep. I knew the kind of rest He was talking about was the supernatural kind of rest that requires much more than 10 solid hours of much needed shuteye.
Girls, I need rest, but it is of the spiritual kind.
I am hosting an event tomorrow night that is very important to me…and I need rest. My new book needs to sell well or my writing career may well be derailed…and I need rest. Pretty new to this blog thing, I want to increase my hits…and I need rest. My website is outdated and needs a bit of a facelift…and I need rest. I have two big conferences coming up that I am speaking for and I have not finished preparing for them…and I need rest. My husband needs me…my kids need me…the housework needs me…the oven needs me…my girlfriends, and my family, and my church needs me…and I need rest. My life is demanding…and busy…and calendared…and crazy…and I need rest.
So re-reading Matthew 11:29 today has been like putting aloe vera on a really bad sunburn. Competely necessary...badly needed…seriously wanted…and immediately soaked in…
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (The Message)
There is no better salve than truth, is there? And no better sound to fall asleep by. So, I’m off to bed now, after a sleepless night and a really long day. My soul needs some serious ZZZZZ’s. For some reason, I doubt I will need my noise maker to help me fall asleep.
Lisa :)
We took the kids to a hockey game last night with our good friends. We all had a great time, and I knew going into it that the kid’s bedtime would be later than usual. But what I did not anticipate was that after putting the kids to bed, I was going to catch a very temporary and sudden case of insomnia and stay up until nearly 1:00am watching DVR’d shows I’d missed while watching grown men throw down on the ice for two plus hours. Why is it that people like hockey? I forget.
So I am tired today. Have been all day. But if I’m honest, I’ll admit that it has much less to do with a late night and much more to do with all the pressures I am feeling right now to get all my “stuff” done. Yes, it’s important stuff. But it is making me truly exhausted.
So today as I was in my bathroom getting ready for the day, all my weariness hit me at once. As is my custom, I was taking inventory of the things pressing down on me and formulating plans to get them all done -- methodically, matter-of-factly, with the goal in mind. It was then that the plan took an unexpected turn, and I started to cry. Surprised at my reaction, I went straight to my Father with my tears.
Me(the frustrated and emotional one): “Lord, I can’t make this stuff happen. It’s just not possible. (Listing things off…) How can I do this…and that…and the other…and then this…and something else? I just can’t do it. I simply cannot do it all.”
Him (the strong, yet soft spoken One): “Lisa, rest. Just rest.”
A woman of logic, I immediately began to protest this suggestion.
Me (the stubborn and opinionated one): “But Lord, you know I can’t stop and rest. I have deadlines. I have people counting on me. I have to keep going, and I don’t have time to rest. Why on earth would you suggest that I do that when I am just telling you how much I have to do?”
Him (the omni-scient and oh-so-patient One): “Because you need it.”
Far be it from me to be sarcastic with God, but I really felt like inserting the word, Duh, here. Instead, though, I stopped…paused…and let His words sink down into my soul. Because, well…God doesn’t say anything that isn’t stop-worthy, if you know what I mean. Suddenly I knew He wasn’t talking about getting physical sleep. I knew the kind of rest He was talking about was the supernatural kind of rest that requires much more than 10 solid hours of much needed shuteye.
Girls, I need rest, but it is of the spiritual kind.
I am hosting an event tomorrow night that is very important to me…and I need rest. My new book needs to sell well or my writing career may well be derailed…and I need rest. Pretty new to this blog thing, I want to increase my hits…and I need rest. My website is outdated and needs a bit of a facelift…and I need rest. I have two big conferences coming up that I am speaking for and I have not finished preparing for them…and I need rest. My husband needs me…my kids need me…the housework needs me…the oven needs me…my girlfriends, and my family, and my church needs me…and I need rest. My life is demanding…and busy…and calendared…and crazy…and I need rest.
So re-reading Matthew 11:29 today has been like putting aloe vera on a really bad sunburn. Competely necessary...badly needed…seriously wanted…and immediately soaked in…
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (The Message)
There is no better salve than truth, is there? And no better sound to fall asleep by. So, I’m off to bed now, after a sleepless night and a really long day. My soul needs some serious ZZZZZ’s. For some reason, I doubt I will need my noise maker to help me fall asleep.
Lisa :)
Monday, February 18, 2008
The Extremely Overrated T-Shirt -- Dissatisfaction with Life (Part 1)
Somewhere between a risk taker and a scaredy cat is where I exist.
I don’t like roller coasters with upside-down loopy loops…extreme sports…or highflying adventures. But I also don’t like sitting on the sidelines and watching other people have all the fun, either.
No, I do want to miss out on anything. I don’t like to be the last one to know. And I simply won’t settle for less.
In talking with other women, I know I am not alone with my preferences. If we’re honest, most of us will admit that we often possess an internal craving for a life more exciting than the one we currently have, where all of our longings and wildest dreams can be fully realized. It’s that feeling that we have missed out on something or might be missing out on something. It’s that desire to live out a life more full, much richer, and far more satisfying than the life we currently lead.
Unfortunately, often our dissatisfactions are misunderstood and misdirected.
We think our boredom in life is due to a marriage with a barely-there pulse, so we look for more excitement in a relationship outside the marriage. We suspect that looking better or having more will introduce significance back to our soul. We venture into cheap thrills, partying and compromises to make our life ok. Then we are surprised when the inner longing still exists.
Kinda reminds me of a guy in the Bible named Solomon.
A revered king, Solomon tasted everything the world had to offer and then some. He was rich, powerful, smart, popular and enjoyed worldly pleasure at every turn. He had been there, done that, and gotten the extremely over-rated t-shirt. Experienced and reflective, Solomon penned some thoughts on his past scrambling for fulfillment in life…
“All is meaningless…utterly meaningless.” (Eccles. 12:8)
Solomon was pretty short and to the point in his findings. Apparently, he also learned things the hard way. (Which is, incidentally, something he and I happen to have in common.:)) And his search for MORE contains an eerily familiar tune that most of us have at some time marched to.
As many of us have learned, the relationships we get into that compromise our marriage bring us down and are ultimately meaningless. So are the pills and the partying, by the way. Oh, and looking good doesn’t mean anything with an inner longing the size of Texas raging within us.
All of us want more. All of us want to be thrilled and excited, out of our minds. All of us need something to last longer than our last indulgence did.
Yet…
In the midst of the scramble remains The Constant.
Jesus.
The Constant offers us the ever meaningful. The always exciting. And the ultimate in satisfaction.
The problem is, we are often unavailable to travel with Him because we are too busy trying to purchase the extremely over-rated t-shirt of been there, done that. Choosing the ill fitting, pricey, doesn’t look good on you, anyway, instead of the fast, furious, risky, exciting, mind-blowing, over-the-edge, thrilling and exhilarating fits-you-like-a-glove ride of your life.
Some of my missionary friends could have chosen to purchase the extremely overrated t-shirt, but they are instead living out a life that is so rich and full and risky and amazing that they have no need for a shrinkable cotton souvenir. Instead they are tripping out on an amazing and exciting ride with God Himself, experiencing the satisfaction and fulfillment of a life only He can provide. And among them, not a desperate housewife to be found.
It doesn’t take a renegade to want to live that kind of life. It just takes a person stuck between risk taker and scaredy cat who is some more afraid of getting left behind, out of the loop, or the last one to know.
I’m not willing to settle for a life that is less than what my heart cries out for. I guess you could call it the call of the not-so wild. It sounds sort-of risky, I know. But I just don’t want to miss out on anything.
Lisa
P.S. Next Monday, I will post part 2 of this post. In it, I will introduce you to a book that has challenged me and motivated me to tap into my inner “barbarian” to satisfy my urges. Now that’s what I call a hint!
I don’t like roller coasters with upside-down loopy loops…extreme sports…or highflying adventures. But I also don’t like sitting on the sidelines and watching other people have all the fun, either.
No, I do want to miss out on anything. I don’t like to be the last one to know. And I simply won’t settle for less.
In talking with other women, I know I am not alone with my preferences. If we’re honest, most of us will admit that we often possess an internal craving for a life more exciting than the one we currently have, where all of our longings and wildest dreams can be fully realized. It’s that feeling that we have missed out on something or might be missing out on something. It’s that desire to live out a life more full, much richer, and far more satisfying than the life we currently lead.
Unfortunately, often our dissatisfactions are misunderstood and misdirected.
We think our boredom in life is due to a marriage with a barely-there pulse, so we look for more excitement in a relationship outside the marriage. We suspect that looking better or having more will introduce significance back to our soul. We venture into cheap thrills, partying and compromises to make our life ok. Then we are surprised when the inner longing still exists.
Kinda reminds me of a guy in the Bible named Solomon.
A revered king, Solomon tasted everything the world had to offer and then some. He was rich, powerful, smart, popular and enjoyed worldly pleasure at every turn. He had been there, done that, and gotten the extremely over-rated t-shirt. Experienced and reflective, Solomon penned some thoughts on his past scrambling for fulfillment in life…
“All is meaningless…utterly meaningless.” (Eccles. 12:8)
Solomon was pretty short and to the point in his findings. Apparently, he also learned things the hard way. (Which is, incidentally, something he and I happen to have in common.:)) And his search for MORE contains an eerily familiar tune that most of us have at some time marched to.
As many of us have learned, the relationships we get into that compromise our marriage bring us down and are ultimately meaningless. So are the pills and the partying, by the way. Oh, and looking good doesn’t mean anything with an inner longing the size of Texas raging within us.
All of us want more. All of us want to be thrilled and excited, out of our minds. All of us need something to last longer than our last indulgence did.
Yet…
In the midst of the scramble remains The Constant.
Jesus.
The Constant offers us the ever meaningful. The always exciting. And the ultimate in satisfaction.
The problem is, we are often unavailable to travel with Him because we are too busy trying to purchase the extremely over-rated t-shirt of been there, done that. Choosing the ill fitting, pricey, doesn’t look good on you, anyway, instead of the fast, furious, risky, exciting, mind-blowing, over-the-edge, thrilling and exhilarating fits-you-like-a-glove ride of your life.
Some of my missionary friends could have chosen to purchase the extremely overrated t-shirt, but they are instead living out a life that is so rich and full and risky and amazing that they have no need for a shrinkable cotton souvenir. Instead they are tripping out on an amazing and exciting ride with God Himself, experiencing the satisfaction and fulfillment of a life only He can provide. And among them, not a desperate housewife to be found.
It doesn’t take a renegade to want to live that kind of life. It just takes a person stuck between risk taker and scaredy cat who is some more afraid of getting left behind, out of the loop, or the last one to know.
I’m not willing to settle for a life that is less than what my heart cries out for. I guess you could call it the call of the not-so wild. It sounds sort-of risky, I know. But I just don’t want to miss out on anything.
Lisa
P.S. Next Monday, I will post part 2 of this post. In it, I will introduce you to a book that has challenged me and motivated me to tap into my inner “barbarian” to satisfy my urges. Now that’s what I call a hint!
Friday, February 15, 2008
Sleepless in Atlanta (and the winner!!)
Hi girlfriends!
Some of you may know that I have been visiting my brother, his wife and three children in New Hampshire this week. It was a spur of the moment, quick trip with my daughter and mom to see my “fresh out of the oven” new little niece for the first time and surprise my brother. I’m an admitted nervous flyer, so this trip was a true labor of love for me. Just seeing the surprise on my big brother’s face was worth that 3-hour layover we endured in Newark to get there. Well, almost. :)
In retrospect, the 3-hour layover in Newark was a cakewalk compared to what we would experience on the plane trip back just a few days later. Let’s just say that Wednesday would not have been a good day for me to do a break-out session somewhere on Finding Joy in the Journey. After being stranded in Newark…flown through a turbulent snow and ice storm after sitting on the runway for 2 hours…diverted to Atlanta…and faced with no other option but to get a hotel room (not at the Ritz, I might add) and sleep in the very clothes on our back, I was in no mood for the complete body search the airport chose to conduct on myself, my 5 year old, and my mother the morning after. They said we were randomly chosen by the computer, but at that point, I honestly felt more like I was hand selected by one more very evil puppet master sticking pins in a doll with my likeness on it. Oh, and did I mention that as I write this, more than 24 hours later, I still do not have my luggage? Joy.
My luggage obviously liked Newark better than I did, since it is likely still there. Or maybe it is resting peacefully in Atlanta. Then again, it’s probably in Istambul by now.
By hey – no matter that I don’t have my make-up, hairdryer, favorite jeans, or flatiron. At least I made it home. And trust me, it’s never felt sweeter to sleep in my own bed!
But though the trip home was not what I expected, the visit with my brother’s family was fantastic.
My daughter loved playing in the 3+ inches of snow on the ground…
hanging out with her cousins…
and riding on the airplane…
I loved watching her love those things, but I also loved holding this little precious nugget…
Is she kissable, or what? My husband is so happy because I got my baby fix for a few days, for sure!
So, local friends, if you see me in a ball cap on Sunday, you will know that my luggage is floating around in an airport in Philly or someone is walking around in my favorite black boots. The only saving grace in that case is that they aren’t really all that comfortable, anyway. Is it wrong to pray for someone to get blisters?
I hope your week has gone better than my past few days, but if not, sister-friends, rejoice with me that we are not sleeping at a Super 8 tonight in two-day old jeans.
And even though I came home to a child sick with the flu, I am so thankful to have a sick child to come home to.
Yep, somewhere between Newark and lost luggage I remembered why I love home so much.
Seriously, girls…I gotta stop learning things the hard way. :)
Now to the winner of the Paula Rinehart book…it is…
Laura!
Congratulations, girl! Just email me with your address, and I will give it to Paula to send you your autographed copy right away.
To my other sweet girlfriends, thank you all so much for your comments and thoughts. I love hearing what you have to say. I hope that even if you didn’t win the book this time you will go out and get this book. It’s a great one.
And check back with me, again. You never know what giveaways might pop up on my blog! I think I have a few more friends to pull out of my hat to help me out with this. :)
Please visit me on Monday as I will be starting a new “get real” topic for the next two weeks. If you want to know how to make sense of your inner cravings for more, see me on Monday. I can’t wait to write about it.
Lisa :)
Some of you may know that I have been visiting my brother, his wife and three children in New Hampshire this week. It was a spur of the moment, quick trip with my daughter and mom to see my “fresh out of the oven” new little niece for the first time and surprise my brother. I’m an admitted nervous flyer, so this trip was a true labor of love for me. Just seeing the surprise on my big brother’s face was worth that 3-hour layover we endured in Newark to get there. Well, almost. :)
In retrospect, the 3-hour layover in Newark was a cakewalk compared to what we would experience on the plane trip back just a few days later. Let’s just say that Wednesday would not have been a good day for me to do a break-out session somewhere on Finding Joy in the Journey. After being stranded in Newark…flown through a turbulent snow and ice storm after sitting on the runway for 2 hours…diverted to Atlanta…and faced with no other option but to get a hotel room (not at the Ritz, I might add) and sleep in the very clothes on our back, I was in no mood for the complete body search the airport chose to conduct on myself, my 5 year old, and my mother the morning after. They said we were randomly chosen by the computer, but at that point, I honestly felt more like I was hand selected by one more very evil puppet master sticking pins in a doll with my likeness on it. Oh, and did I mention that as I write this, more than 24 hours later, I still do not have my luggage? Joy.
My luggage obviously liked Newark better than I did, since it is likely still there. Or maybe it is resting peacefully in Atlanta. Then again, it’s probably in Istambul by now.
By hey – no matter that I don’t have my make-up, hairdryer, favorite jeans, or flatiron. At least I made it home. And trust me, it’s never felt sweeter to sleep in my own bed!
But though the trip home was not what I expected, the visit with my brother’s family was fantastic.
My daughter loved playing in the 3+ inches of snow on the ground…
hanging out with her cousins…
and riding on the airplane…
I loved watching her love those things, but I also loved holding this little precious nugget…
Is she kissable, or what? My husband is so happy because I got my baby fix for a few days, for sure!
So, local friends, if you see me in a ball cap on Sunday, you will know that my luggage is floating around in an airport in Philly or someone is walking around in my favorite black boots. The only saving grace in that case is that they aren’t really all that comfortable, anyway. Is it wrong to pray for someone to get blisters?
I hope your week has gone better than my past few days, but if not, sister-friends, rejoice with me that we are not sleeping at a Super 8 tonight in two-day old jeans.
And even though I came home to a child sick with the flu, I am so thankful to have a sick child to come home to.
Yep, somewhere between Newark and lost luggage I remembered why I love home so much.
Seriously, girls…I gotta stop learning things the hard way. :)
Now to the winner of the Paula Rinehart book…it is…
Laura!
Congratulations, girl! Just email me with your address, and I will give it to Paula to send you your autographed copy right away.
To my other sweet girlfriends, thank you all so much for your comments and thoughts. I love hearing what you have to say. I hope that even if you didn’t win the book this time you will go out and get this book. It’s a great one.
And check back with me, again. You never know what giveaways might pop up on my blog! I think I have a few more friends to pull out of my hat to help me out with this. :)
Please visit me on Monday as I will be starting a new “get real” topic for the next two weeks. If you want to know how to make sense of your inner cravings for more, see me on Monday. I can’t wait to write about it.
Lisa :)
Monday, February 11, 2008
Leaping! (and another exciting book give-away) (Jealousy -- Part 2)
I once had a good friend.
And then I didn’t.
We “broke up, “ I guess you could say.
There were lots of issues, for sure. Misunderstandings. Communication problems. Lack of trust. And…
Jealousy.
It killed our friendship. Like it always does.
We were jealous of one another, though neither one of us wanted to admit it. It started out little…then it grew…and grew…and grew…until it finally managed to perform a chokehold on our friendship until all the oxygen ran out.
Then…the friendship was gone.
(Fast-forward 3 years.)
I once was scared to take a leap towards vulnerability.
And then I did.
I reached out to the friend to tell her I was sorry and that I didn’t want to be apart anymore. And she responded.
With love…grace…and forgiveness.
The friendship = restored.
The devil = disappointed.
The girl who leaped = satisfied.
I can admit now what I couldn’t back then. I didn’t trust her because I didn’t want to become vulnerable enough to once again get hurt. Even though I’d hurt her, as well, I was more concerned with any wrongs that had been done to me.
Enter one very ugly “flesh side.”
Dr. Phil says something that is almost right. He says (and this is not a direct quote) that not trusting people is really not trusting yourself to handle whatever happens if they hurt you or let you down. That sounds good and I almost agree with him. But then I refer back to my own experiences with getting hurt. What I’ve learned through those experiences is that I can’t handle it. I can’t handle my jealousies. I can’t handle my pain or my disappointments and letdowns. I can’t handle getting hurt. I can’t handle being rejected. And that’s ok.
Because Jesus can.
He can handle it for me. He can handle my heart and give it the TLC it needs when and if it breaks, again. He can be trusted with my life, and I can trust Him enough to allow myself to become vulnerable all over again.
It’s all about leaping.
My friend, Paula Rinehart, has written a beautiful book on this subject of allowing yourself to become vulnerable with others (among other important things). It’s entitled, Strong Women, Soft Hearts ,and as a self-professed “strong” woman (sometimes to the chagrin of my very long-suffering husband), I love this idea of remaining strong while maintaining softness.
I think many of us don’t leap…or trust…or get past our struggles with jealousy…because we are too busy trying to be strong and together and invincible. Ya know, for some of us, I just think it’s become a way of living.
Paula has graciously offered to give away a signed book to one of you, for you to read all the good stuff yourself! Just “leap” by leaving a comment on this subject or a Scripture or something to think about. This will enter you to win the book. Trust me, you will love this one!
I will post the winner on Friday.
Leaping with you!
Lisa :)
And then I didn’t.
We “broke up, “ I guess you could say.
There were lots of issues, for sure. Misunderstandings. Communication problems. Lack of trust. And…
Jealousy.
It killed our friendship. Like it always does.
We were jealous of one another, though neither one of us wanted to admit it. It started out little…then it grew…and grew…and grew…until it finally managed to perform a chokehold on our friendship until all the oxygen ran out.
Then…the friendship was gone.
(Fast-forward 3 years.)
I once was scared to take a leap towards vulnerability.
And then I did.
I reached out to the friend to tell her I was sorry and that I didn’t want to be apart anymore. And she responded.
With love…grace…and forgiveness.
The friendship = restored.
The devil = disappointed.
The girl who leaped = satisfied.
I can admit now what I couldn’t back then. I didn’t trust her because I didn’t want to become vulnerable enough to once again get hurt. Even though I’d hurt her, as well, I was more concerned with any wrongs that had been done to me.
Enter one very ugly “flesh side.”
Dr. Phil says something that is almost right. He says (and this is not a direct quote) that not trusting people is really not trusting yourself to handle whatever happens if they hurt you or let you down. That sounds good and I almost agree with him. But then I refer back to my own experiences with getting hurt. What I’ve learned through those experiences is that I can’t handle it. I can’t handle my jealousies. I can’t handle my pain or my disappointments and letdowns. I can’t handle getting hurt. I can’t handle being rejected. And that’s ok.
Because Jesus can.
He can handle it for me. He can handle my heart and give it the TLC it needs when and if it breaks, again. He can be trusted with my life, and I can trust Him enough to allow myself to become vulnerable all over again.
It’s all about leaping.
My friend, Paula Rinehart, has written a beautiful book on this subject of allowing yourself to become vulnerable with others (among other important things). It’s entitled, Strong Women, Soft Hearts ,and as a self-professed “strong” woman (sometimes to the chagrin of my very long-suffering husband), I love this idea of remaining strong while maintaining softness. I think many of us don’t leap…or trust…or get past our struggles with jealousy…because we are too busy trying to be strong and together and invincible. Ya know, for some of us, I just think it’s become a way of living.
Paula has graciously offered to give away a signed book to one of you, for you to read all the good stuff yourself! Just “leap” by leaving a comment on this subject or a Scripture or something to think about. This will enter you to win the book. Trust me, you will love this one!
I will post the winner on Friday.
Leaping with you!
Lisa :)
Friday, February 8, 2008
The Kind of Eyes I Need
It was 1991 and I was in college, sitting on the concrete floor of our community laundry room. Somewhere between soak and rinse and the spin cycle, my good friend and I began a beautiful discussion about God. We were talking about some of our deepest thoughts about Him when he turned to me and said, “Lisa, what do you think Jesus looks like?” I paused only briefly, and then answered…
“He has nice eyes.”
At that moment, I could see them in my mind...
Warm.
Deep.
Soulful.
Loving.
Kind.
And looking right back at me…
With compassion.
After several years of living in a state independent from God, I sure needed them. I had made many mistakes and fallen away from what I had always believed. Yes, compassion was the look I needed from my Lord then...and now.
So when my friend asked me to describe Jesus, there was nothing else I could use to describe His physical appearance other than His eyes. Maybe it’s because I love to look into people’s eyes. Eyes tell stories. Eyes describe feelings and emotions. Eyes give you a glimpse into someone’s heart and soul. Eyes are the most beautiful physical characteristic on a person I have ever seen, and I always notice them first. I’ve never seen a pair of eyes that weren’t absolutely beautiful.
Physically, when I think about looking into Jesus’ eyes, I see a warm hue of chocolately-brown. Though I have no proof, these are the color I imagine He wore. But when I visualize His eyes, I see much more than a color. I see a Savior who looks on me with love and compassion I don’t even come close to deserving.
Jesus has the kind of eyes the friends of the paralyzed man had in Luke 5.
“One day as he was teaching, Pharisees and religion teachers were sitting around. They had come from nearly every village in Galilee and Judea, even as far away as Jerusalem, to be there. The healing power of God was on him. Some men arrived carrying a paraplegic on a stretcher. They were looking for a way to get into the house and set him before Jesus. When they couldn't find a way in because of the crowd, they went up on the roof, removed some tiles, and let him down in the middle of everyone, right in front of Jesus. Impressed by their bold belief, he said, "Friend, I forgive your sins." That set the religion scholars and Pharisees buzzing. "Who does he think he is? That's blasphemous talk! God and only God can forgive sins." Jesus knew exactly what they were thinking and said, "Why all this gossipy whispering? Which is simpler: to say 'I forgive your sins,' or to say 'Get up and start walking'? Well, just so it's clear that I'm the Son of Man and authorized to do either, or both. . . ." He now spoke directly to the paraplegic: "Get up. Take your bedroll and go home." Without a moment's hesitation, he did it—got up, took his blanket, and left for home, giving glory to God all the way. The people rubbed their eyes, incredulous—and then also gave glory to God. (vs.17-25, The Message)
Those men had the kind of eyes I need.
The question is...do I have them?
I ran into a friend at the store a few weeks ago and nearly ducked into a nearby aisle so she wouldn’t see me. I didn’t have the time to “talk” and I knew she was going through a difficult time. But I justified it because I was on my way to teach Bible Study.
I saw a man at the mall recently, wheeling his way into a narrow doorway. I wanted to smile at him, but I didn’t want him to think I was patronizing him. So I quickly looked the other way.
I overheard someone talking in line at the post office about her husband who just recently lost his job. I thought about slipping her some money, but I only had a couple of dollars on me. Getting her information to send it to her would have just been a hassle, and I didn’t want to intrude.
I meant to send out an email this week to a woman from church who I know is suffering. But I just didn’t have the courage to reach out to someone who didn’t know me from Adam. I didn’t want to face rejection, if it came.
Eyes of compassion don’t count the cost, by the way. They don’t worry about time frames or agendas or reputation or what others will think of them. They don’t care about the ramifications or consequences of reaching out. They simply act. Out of love. Out of compassion.
Those are the kind of eyes I need.
Those are the kind of eyes I want my children to have for others.
Those are the kind of eyes Jesus looks at you...and me...with.
A recent conversation with my 5-year old little girl reminds me of the importance of having those same eyes.
Shae: Mom, I like helping people. I don’t know why God made me that way.
Me: It’s a big responsibility to help people, isn’t it?
Shae: Yep, it sure is. But I like it.
Having eyes of compassion is a big responsibility. It sometimes costs. Time. Money. Energy. Reputation.
But the payback is rich. Fulfillment. Joy. Peace. Satisfaction. Love.
And…
“They were all struck with astonishment and began glorifying God; and they were filled with fear, saying, "We have seen remarkable things today." (vs. 26)
…watching God do remarkable things.
Lisa
“He has nice eyes.”
At that moment, I could see them in my mind...
Warm.
Deep.
Soulful.
Loving.
Kind.
And looking right back at me…
With compassion.
After several years of living in a state independent from God, I sure needed them. I had made many mistakes and fallen away from what I had always believed. Yes, compassion was the look I needed from my Lord then...and now.
So when my friend asked me to describe Jesus, there was nothing else I could use to describe His physical appearance other than His eyes. Maybe it’s because I love to look into people’s eyes. Eyes tell stories. Eyes describe feelings and emotions. Eyes give you a glimpse into someone’s heart and soul. Eyes are the most beautiful physical characteristic on a person I have ever seen, and I always notice them first. I’ve never seen a pair of eyes that weren’t absolutely beautiful.
Physically, when I think about looking into Jesus’ eyes, I see a warm hue of chocolately-brown. Though I have no proof, these are the color I imagine He wore. But when I visualize His eyes, I see much more than a color. I see a Savior who looks on me with love and compassion I don’t even come close to deserving.
Jesus has the kind of eyes the friends of the paralyzed man had in Luke 5.
“One day as he was teaching, Pharisees and religion teachers were sitting around. They had come from nearly every village in Galilee and Judea, even as far away as Jerusalem, to be there. The healing power of God was on him. Some men arrived carrying a paraplegic on a stretcher. They were looking for a way to get into the house and set him before Jesus. When they couldn't find a way in because of the crowd, they went up on the roof, removed some tiles, and let him down in the middle of everyone, right in front of Jesus. Impressed by their bold belief, he said, "Friend, I forgive your sins." That set the religion scholars and Pharisees buzzing. "Who does he think he is? That's blasphemous talk! God and only God can forgive sins." Jesus knew exactly what they were thinking and said, "Why all this gossipy whispering? Which is simpler: to say 'I forgive your sins,' or to say 'Get up and start walking'? Well, just so it's clear that I'm the Son of Man and authorized to do either, or both. . . ." He now spoke directly to the paraplegic: "Get up. Take your bedroll and go home." Without a moment's hesitation, he did it—got up, took his blanket, and left for home, giving glory to God all the way. The people rubbed their eyes, incredulous—and then also gave glory to God. (vs.17-25, The Message)
Those men had the kind of eyes I need.
The question is...do I have them?
I ran into a friend at the store a few weeks ago and nearly ducked into a nearby aisle so she wouldn’t see me. I didn’t have the time to “talk” and I knew she was going through a difficult time. But I justified it because I was on my way to teach Bible Study.
I saw a man at the mall recently, wheeling his way into a narrow doorway. I wanted to smile at him, but I didn’t want him to think I was patronizing him. So I quickly looked the other way.
I overheard someone talking in line at the post office about her husband who just recently lost his job. I thought about slipping her some money, but I only had a couple of dollars on me. Getting her information to send it to her would have just been a hassle, and I didn’t want to intrude.
I meant to send out an email this week to a woman from church who I know is suffering. But I just didn’t have the courage to reach out to someone who didn’t know me from Adam. I didn’t want to face rejection, if it came.
Eyes of compassion don’t count the cost, by the way. They don’t worry about time frames or agendas or reputation or what others will think of them. They don’t care about the ramifications or consequences of reaching out. They simply act. Out of love. Out of compassion.
Those are the kind of eyes I need.
Those are the kind of eyes I want my children to have for others.
Those are the kind of eyes Jesus looks at you...and me...with.
A recent conversation with my 5-year old little girl reminds me of the importance of having those same eyes.
Shae: Mom, I like helping people. I don’t know why God made me that way.
Me: It’s a big responsibility to help people, isn’t it?
Shae: Yep, it sure is. But I like it.
Having eyes of compassion is a big responsibility. It sometimes costs. Time. Money. Energy. Reputation.
But the payback is rich. Fulfillment. Joy. Peace. Satisfaction. Love.
And…
“They were all struck with astonishment and began glorifying God; and they were filled with fear, saying, "We have seen remarkable things today." (vs. 26)
…watching God do remarkable things.
Lisa
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