Eating Popcorn

A year ago today, I got my tonsils out. Most painful two weeks EVER. I still have nightmares about my post-surgery time. I swear I have Post-Traumatic Stress from it. I will spare you the details of the ordeal, trust me though-- I was in some serious pain. But the scars finally healed! And tonight I made myself some popcorn to celebrate the anniversary. It is my first time eating it since the surgery and it is the one food I’ve still been afraid to tackle. The thought of a piece of un-popped seed cutting my scars open scares me crazy.

Last winter, I got a few scars on my heart too. The scars have healed, but the past few months I’ve been doing something that has scared me crazy. Dating. How do I trust again? What if it ends in another scar? The anxiety really started to get to me. I kept thinking I needed to “guard my heart.” Isn’t that the mantra that we single women are given? It is definitely what I have told to others. But how do you guard your heart and still eat the popcorn that just might cut that scar open?

A verse that I have held on to for as long as I can remember is Philipians 4:6-7. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” All my life I have been quoting and reading and writing and praying and whispering and repeating this verse. And until recently, I skipped the last part! Just knowing that God would give me peace that was better than I could understand was enough. I stopped there. But the peace really is beyond my understanding! It wasn’t until recently that I realized that God says HIS peace will guard my heart!! I don’t have to build a wall around my heart. And I don’t have to look to a man to guard it either. It isn’t either of our jobs. GOD is my protector. We are taught as little girls to look for our knight in shining armor- a protector and rescuer. But that is not the job of a man. It is God’s.

Stop, Look, and Listen

This blog has gone silent for a while. I’ve been on a long, emotional roller coaster that so many singles find themselves on. There were thrilling highs, followed by heart-in-your-stomach drops. As I stumbled off the dizzying ride, I found myself at a crossroads in life. At the edge of this intersection, I decided to follow the words I was taught as a child before crossing the street: Stop, Look, and Listen.

Like any child, I wanted to run across the street. I wanted to get to the other side of this mess. I was so tempted to immediately make a big life change. Move? Quit my job and travel? Go to school? Instead of running away, I took some very purposeful time to move forward in the most healthy and God directed I knew how.

At most intersections, there are stop signs—shaped like octagons. One of my longest known and dearest friends came up with the Octagon Theory years ago. The theory was that an eligible bachelor for a Christian woman must have eight specific qualities. These qualities made up the eight sides of an octagon, which was supposed to represent a complete man, ready for marriage. I remember that the theory was that a person could have 6 or 7 sides, but unless they had all 8 sides, they were simply not a viable candidate for dating or marriage. I decided years ago, when the theory was developed, that instead of focusing on finding my Octagon man, I should be focused on becoming the complete person a man like that would need and be looking for as a partner. Of course, I’ve too often strayed from that goal, but it has been my desire—to be a complete person, not lacking of any “sides.” (For UFC and WWF fans, the struggle within The Octagon might be a good topic for future posts or comments.)

After stopping, the next step is to look. “Look both ways before you cross the street.” As God continues to hammer out my metal into the shape He has intended, He’s forced me to look at my own “sides.” I’m taking long, hard looks at my character, personality, and relationships.

And finally, I’m listening. These steps have happened simultaneously and are not in order of importance. But, in past life-intersections, I think I’ve too often skipped this one. This time God used a blizzard that shut me in my apartment for a week to force me to cry out to Him and ask “God, what are you trying to say to me?” And then really listen for His answer.

I was definitely a chicken. I was scared to cross the street. But why did this chicken cross the road? To get to the other side. Psalm 84:56 sayBlessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valleys “ of Baca, they make it a place of springs.” Baca means “weeping,” but the joyful expectation of pilgrims transforms difficult ways into refreshment.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

My dad is a spiritual leader. He has led men’s bible study groups since before I can remember and is known as a minister at Oak Hills. But what you don’t know is that as I was growing up, every morning he got up before anyone else in the house and went into his study and shut the door and prayed for guidance and mercy. I have caught him countless times on his knees or lying prostrate on the floor, praying.

Many recognize that my dad speaks with Godly wisdom. This is evidenced by the people that constantly seek him out for counseling. My dad is who I want to talk to when I have a question or a problem. There is rarely a biblical subject that I could ask my dad about that he has not studied and cannot give me incredible insight into. He loves to study and to learn and he has imparted that wisdom upon his children and others with grace and encouragement. Working on Capitol Hill, I sometimes feel like I understand a lot about current issues. But one of the things I love to do the most is to hear my dad talk about other ways to look at a political problem. He helps me to look at a problem not as a republican or democrat, but as a Christian.

If you are reading this, my dad has probably touched you in some way. You know that he cares deeply for people. He might have prayed over you, or visited you in the hospital, or held your hand through a crisis. As his daughter, I have had the privilege of witnessing much more. My dad seems to specialize in people we call EGRs (Extra Grace Required). He spends quality time with people that I find it difficult just to hug. The smelly, obnoxious, and ungrateful people are who my dad takes extra care to love on. Not too long ago I called him and asked what he was doing and he told me that he was cutting the toenails and washing the feet of an elderly man who is known for being mean and disgusting.

My dad is a “Wild at Heart” man. His physical strength is only surpassed by his spiritual discipline. Always ready for a hike or a bike ride, he loves to enjoy God’s creation. I have had some really great adventures with him all around the world. Two of my favorites are trips that were just the two of us—to Spain and Mexico. I’ve gotten to witness my dad in his element, studying and speaking Spanish. This has been a hobby of his for years and it is so exciting to see him communicate with people. I have a sweet memory of when he introduced me to his new friend, the elderly woman with no teeth that worked in a public bathroom in San Miguel. Everyone he met there loved him, because he CARED about them. He was taking time off of work and away from his wife to study a language just so he could talk to them.

My dad is certainly not perfect, and he will be the first admit it. But my mom and my sister and I have all been loved unconditionally. Dad, muchas gracias por eso. Tu eres un hombre del Senor. Yo te amo.

Signage

I still remember the first time I heard the word "signage." I was interning at an event coordinating firm after my Freshman year of college and the President of the company told me in a meeting that we needed to work on signage for an event. I am pretty sure I laughed. I thought she was trying to sound hip. It sounded like something my Uncle Russ would say (he can make anything sound "gnarly" cool and frequently ends words with "age.") -- not something a power business woman would say in front of the mayor. But apparently signage is a real and commonly used word.

I guess I've spent the years since then asking God for some signage. Earlier this week, I was begging God to give me some kind of sign. "Show me where you want me! Where should I move? Or should I stay here? What should I do with my life?!"

The next sign I passed was HUGE. In my face. "CLEVELAND."

What???! Haha... Yeah right. God, you can be a jokester sometimes!

I think God was reminding me that he doesn't always lay out His plan for us. Yes, some people get these grand signs, but sometimes he lets us choose. I may get a sign between now and this winter, when I'll be making my decision on where (or whether) to move, but I might not. I might have to just trust that He will be with me through the decision making process. I've always thought of my life as already being mapped out in this master plan that God has set for me, but I actually think I have lots of options. I'm not going to move to the wrong place or take the wrong job or marry the wrong person. I don't think the plan is like that. Maybe-- just like the way I like to make the plans for myself-- His plan is fluid too.

Jeremiah 29:11 gets quoted all the time:
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

But we don't always read verses 12...
"Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you."

A couple thoughts:
--"Plans" is plural. He has multiple plans for us. Not just one. I'm reminded of the Choose Your Own Adventure books I used to love as a kid.

--My pleas to Him are not falling on deaf ears. He is listening to me. And communicating with me, even if it is in the form of a joke!

Rain and Shine

A year ago this month, I wrote the following:

Make the rain stop. 

When I said I would praise you through the storm, I knew it would be difficult.  But I didn't think it would literally mean the water would be shooting into my house— again!  This is the second time in just about a month that I have found myself stooping over with a shop-vac sucking up gallons and gallons of water.  First it was a clogged drain outside, and now my water heater has sprung a leak.

This all seems to be a metaphor for the rest of my life.  I feel as if I am bailing bucket after bucket of water out of my lifeboat, just to see the water rise around me again.  At times, the water has risen so high that I literally couldn't breathe.  I truly had the sensation that I was drowning. 
 
Right now I would like to be writing a nice article about Jesus calming the storm on the Sea of Galilee, but instead I feel as though God is speaking the same words he spoke to Job.  God seems to be saying "Who are you to question my plans for you?  What do you know about anything?  I am the all-knowing, all-powerful one.  Trust me, I got this."  I'd prefer Him to just say "don't be afraid" and make it all better.  God did make Job prosperous again—twice as much!  But, he still lost his family.  He still went through a storm that must have brought tears to his eyes the rest of his life.  Yes, God has great plans for me, but I may always carry with me some amount of sadness because of this storm. 

I, like Job, may be able to one day look back on this time and see the Lord's providence in all this pain.  I am confident this will happen.  But, it doesn't make this time any less real. 

I’m in sunny Jacksonville, FL with my family, and this vacation weekend has reminded me that God did lead me through last year’s storm.  The rain eventually stopped.  

A Piece of Peace

Last week, I was sure that I was about to be offered a job. The only thing left was a formality. I was beyond certain that it was going to happen and had been given every indication that an offer was imminent.

On Friday, I went to the Senate Bible Study and Chaplain Black said "don't do anything until you have peace." I immediately thought of the job. I knew I didn't have peace about taking it. But then I also thought "God, you better give me peace about it, because I am taking this job. I see no option but to take it. I can't turn it down." The illustration Chaplain Black used was even about a job he once had to turn down because he didn't have peace! I still stubbornly sat there and thought I could do it without peace. What was I thinking?!

Less than two hours later, I got an email that said they had hired someone else. Wow. I could have decided that I wasn't going to take it because I didn't have peace and do it on my own terms. But, instead God had to intervene and humble me.

What I have found so encouraging through this all weekend is that I felt like God was communicating with me. It has been a little while since I felt that, and it feels so... peaceful... when he does. It had been so clear that I was getting this job that truly only God's hand could have changed the course. God was telling me "this is not where I want you." Even a frustrating word from God is a word from God.

Accountability

My arms are aching as I type this. I'm seriously trying to avoid having to move my right arm all the way over to my mouse. Yesterday's gym time pushed me to my limits. My trainer doesn't always do my whole workout with me, but on the one or two days a week that he does, I am in pain the next day. What is it about having someone with you that pushes you to do more than you would on your own? Even just getting to the gym would be tough to do without the white-erase board on a wall in my cubicle that my coworkers and I use to tally each time we go.

On Tuesday, Starlette, who is supposed to be the one who keeps me accountable on reading the bible, asked me where I was. (We are trying to keep pace with each other). Well, just that question (and the embarrassing answer I had to give her) motivated me to read the entire book of Esther before going to bed.

The concept of accountability isn't new-- and this blog entry might be a bit cliche. But although we all know it works, we clearly don't all put it into practice. Why not?

As Americans, we love our freedom. Especially those of us who are single. That is the one thing that we think we have on all our married friends-- no one is telling us what to do and when to do it! I can go to bed whenever I want, hang out with who I want, spend my money on what I want... but is this "benefit" of singlehood really healthy?