Lost and found

Have you ever found something that you weren't aware that you had lost?  I had that happen last week on the shores of Lake Tahoe.  As the wind blew across the lake sending waves crashing onto the rocks below, as clouds floated overhead covering the sun for sporadic moments and lizards dashed around my legs letting me know that I was in their territory, I found something I didn't know I had lost...I found my home.  Not a physical home because, clearly, I was encroaching on the lizards home, but my spiritual home.  Okay, truthfully, I didn't completely find that home until a couple of days later, but this particular day that I am talking about, I found that I had been missing my home and didn't know it was lost.

It makes sense though.  I have been lost for awhile now.  I've been going through the motions, finding glimpses of God in the midst of the mundane, feeling more and more cut off from God, really spiritually dry and extremely tired of working so hard to hear so little from God.  All it took was sitting at the lizard's doorstep and I began to feel more buoyant, lighter, free.  It was there that God and I had a conversation, there where I asked some questions, heard some answers and received confirmation.  It was there that I realized what I had lost because I was getting it back.

Conversations

Warning:  The following post gets a little, well, um, yeah.  It's awkward.  I'm only reporting things that actually happened.  Just remember that.

About mid-March I went to Home Depot in town for some new work gloves.  My last pair of gloves I left in a trash can in Mississippi (on purpose) and I needed a new pair for the Texas trip.  I was standing in the aisle contemplating my choices when a man in his mid-fifties came up on my right.  He started exploring the knee pads.  I kept hearing him mutter..."$19 for knee pads.  Wow, those aren't bad.  Hmm...theses are $25.  Whoa!  Those are $40 knee pads.  What are they made of?"  I smiled to myself and went about my business of selecting the right gloves.

Pretty soon, though, it became apparent that the gentleman next to me was not going to be content talking to himself.  I was going to be a part of the conversation.  Again he said, "$40 for knee pads.  Whoa." but this time the comment was directed towards me.  There was no escaping.  "Yep," I replied, "they must be the cadillac of knee pads."  I was hoping that I would get away with that.  I didn't see the next comment coming. AT ALL!

"Wow, for that cost I would be wearing these knee pads all the time.  I can just see it now heading to bed in just my knee pads.  My wife would look at me and wonder what kind of kinky sex we were having that night.  She'd probably ask where the whip was."

When the words "knee pads" and "bed" came into the conversation I wanted to run screaming from the store "AAGGHH!!!  TMI!  TMI!!"  (TMI means "too much information" in case you were wondering.)  I didn't.  I laughed that awkward laugh of someone in an uncomfortable situation.  The guy didn't really notice.  He just kept talking about the knee pads.  And then he noticed the gloves I was trying on.  "So what do you do?" he asked.  I made some stumbling remark about going to Texas and helping with hurricane relief, which led into a discussion about how I'd been to Mississippi multiple times doing the same kind of work, to which the knee pad man replied "Are you going to Japan?  I have a friend who is going to Japan.  I told him not to go right now.  I'm an electrician, I know about those nuclear reactors.  You don't want to go to Japan right now.  Don't get anywhere near it."  I reassured him that Japan was not on my list of places, yet, to go.  After a little bit more conversation, during which I found out that he was a "good catholic boy", I bid farewell to knee pad man.  I'm not sure if he bought any knee pads that day.  And to be honest I don't want to know.

Now, fast forward to last week.  It was 7:30 on a Sunday morning at the La Quinta in Slidell, Louisiana.  I was heading to the breakfast area to get a glass of water.  A harmless, lousy glass of water.  The water container was right next to the juice machine.  There was a gentleman standing at the juice machine looking at a pretty weak glass of orange juice in his hand.  As I approached he looked up and said, "Well, the it doesn't look great but it still tastes like juice."  There was a slight pause and then he continued, "It's kinda like me.  I don't look so good but all my parts work."  I laughed, awkwardly, and made some comment that I really can't remember because all I could think was "why do random people feel so comfortable talking to me about stuff that I don't want to hear?!"

Those aren't the only two stories I have of random people sharing information with me.  I think I must have a face that says "talk to me, it's okay!".  Maybe it's because I try to smile when I make eye contact with people.  I don't know, sometimes it feels like a curse...I know way too much information about some people out there in the world.

But then there was tonight.  Tonight at the grocery store the checker started talking about her mom.  Her mom who has cancer.  It struck me in our brief conversation that sometimes random people talking to you isn't such a bad thing.  As I drove home I prayed for the checker and her mom.  As I drove home I felt a little grateful that random people feel comfortable confiding in me, for whatever reason.  I need to look at is as a gift...sometimes it means I pray for people and other times I have great stories to tell!

Cleaning

It's Saturday. All week long the fog has been a welcome friend in the mornings. Today, not so much. The air pouring through my window is much warmer than it has been the rest of the week. Perfect day to sort through things that have been piling up.

First up, the top of my vanity. Seriously haven't seen the top of it in probably over a year. It's the dumping grounds for anything that doesn't have a home. The garbage can starts piling up, paper recycling is filling and so is the bag for the Flea Market at the end of the month. There's a stack of pictures for K, cards bought but never sent, a pile of things for the bathroom cupboard, papers to be filed.

The catch-all drawer is next. Hair bands, more hair bands, hair clips. Huh. It's always funny that just about the time I get all of these types of things organized, I decide it's time to cut my hair (the appointments Monday). At least it will all be in one place! Make-up that's old, out! Paintbrushes, I wondered where those went. It's quite a feat but when the drawer is back in place, the top of the vanity is cleaned off there's a sense of peace within my soul. I like this clean look. It looks fresh, new, inviting.

So I start on the bills and stuff that's been piling up. Recycle, recycle, recycle, file. There are cards from Yo Momma from Christmases past, a card from M & L from two years ago...the message is pretty appropriate for right now...can't part with those. The envelope with papers from my last class at Fuller (I got an A, by the way), the receipt that says I paid a lot of money for that class, all filed away. Amongst a card from Meg I find an I-tunes card that has been missing for a long time. And there's 20 in a card from Staff Appreciation Sunday in October. I think it's been way too long since I went through this stuff.

It occurs to me, part way through, that this cleansing, this purging is much like the cleansing that I find in Christ. Not surprising that's where my brain goes, I'm preaching on forgiveness and love Sunday morning. Cleaning off, cleaning out this stuff helps me to feel a little less chaotic, out of control, more centered. Much like my relationship with Christ, I feel more centered, less chaotic, less out of control when I wade through the junk, confess, let go of things that are binding up my soul and allow Christ's love, compassion and forgiveness to enter in. It's good to go through this purging, both the physical stuff and the emotional stuff, to let go of what's holding me back from feeling peaceful and find that beauty that is around me and in me again.

It's Saturday, a little warm, but a great day for cleaning.

I love to laugh

My fabulous friends, M & L, gave me Tim Gunn's Guide to Style Daily Tear-off Calendar for Christmas. Being a Project Runway Fan, this was the perfect gift. All year I've been tearing off little hints about style and more. There was one, that I really cherish, that said something to the effect of sweatpants, with words that when worn on the body will be placed across your rear-end, should never, ever be worn out of the house...and even then, they are seriously questionable. Amen!

Anyway, the other day I was catching up on the calendar and came across this...

The power of looking happy cannot be underestimated. You'll feel better if you smile, and the reception you receive from others will be warmer. Modern life seems to lead to a rather grim set to the mouth; fight it and smile.

What truth there is in those words! A couple of friends recently wrote me a beautiful note that ended with "we love that you love to laugh." It's true. I love to laugh. Smiling, laughing makes me feel better.

I'm thinking about all of this today in regards to our worship services. Sunday mornings there just isn't a whole lot of laughter and smiling. The worship team at the early service knows how to smile. I know they do, I see the smiles on Monday nights when we rehearse (I hear the laughter too!) The smiles disappear on Sunday mornings. Even the cheeriest of people stop smiling on Sunday mornings. There seems to be an unwritten rule that says "smiles in worship is out of place".

I think it was a blogger that wrote recently that they didn't believe that Jesus was as solemn as Christians make Jesus out to be and I agree. Human beings are naturally attracted to people who are good natured, have a sense of humor, smiles, or laughs. People were attracted to Jesus, curious about Jesus, kids went to him, I think he probably laughed and smiled a lot.

So why the seriousness in church? Why do we take worship so seriously that we can't smile or laugh? I think some of the worship team would tell you that they are intimidated looking out at the faces that aren't smiling back at them. Which is true. There are some people who seem to be really, really grumpy in church...but yet maybe they are taking their cues from the people in front of them. I wonder if we started smiling more, how that would translate to those looking back at us.

I have a hard time passing by someone without smiling at them. I noticed it the other day in the grocery store. If I make eye contact with another person, I automatically smile. Even in my grumpiest of moods. Sometimes people respond with a "Hi" like they think maybe they know me but aren't sure, sometimes I'll get a smile in return, sometimes not. I wonder, was that what made Jesus so approachable? Did he automatically smile at people as he passed them by? It's a thought to ponder and a challenge for the rest of us.

Next time you are out and about, smile at a random person. Do they smile back? Does it make you feel silly or does the smile last a little longer on your face? If you are the church going kind, try smiling at those leading worship on Sunday morning...see if they respond. And if you lead worship, how about smiling at the people in church? I promise, they won't bite.

Let's fight the grimness of life with a smile...and just because I love to laugh...

On blogging

I've come to really love blogging. I like being able to write whatever is on my heart and mind, to share it with people that I know and don't know. I like getting feedback from people on whatever has crossed my mind that day, that week, that month. Blogging has helped me reconnect with a love of writing that was lost somewhere between Video English and being left off the list for AP English in High School (I was told two weeks after school had started my senior year that I was really supposed to be in AP English and somehow had been left off the list. The damage had already been done to my writing soul and I declined the offer...wound up being the best choice. I had Mrs. C for Senior English instead. God knew what God was doing.) Blogging, for me, has been a good thing.

One of the hardest things, though, is writing things down that might seem a little too close, a little too tender, a little too dangerous and then daring to push that button that says 'publish post'. Many posts sit, never to make it to the front page of the blog, never to be seen by eyes other than my own and that's OK.

When the words, though, reach the front page and are seen by others, I never expect them to be used by the reader to poke fun at me, to point out my flaws or my downfalls. I expect the reader to understand that they are my words, my thoughts, that it's my heart, soul and spirit poured out. I expect to there to be respect on the part of the reader, that the reader will honor my vulnerability or laugh with me or rant with me or ponder with me as needed. I don't expect the words to come back to harm me. I never expect them to come back to harm me.

Maybe, though, I should expect that because I choose to write publicly. I don't limit the people who can read my words and I shouldn't expect people to honor or respect my words. That thought makes me very, very sad. It also makes me sad when it's people that I know. It makes me sad when it's people who I hold in esteem, in honor, in respect who then trample all of that to pieces.

I think about all this stuff when reading other people's blogs too. I think about the person on the other side, who spent time typing out their thoughts, hitting the delete button, correcting this sentence or that. The person who has had a hard day and just needs to vent, the person who puts their soul into making their words just right, the person who happily shares whatever is going on just because, the person who has found a home for their words that makes them happy. I also think about how my words about or on someone else's blog impacts that person...and sometimes I choose not to write them.

Blogging makes me happy. It's a creative, emotional release that I'm grateful to have found. At the same time it can be super personal. When people talk about my words, I pray that they have the respect due the words and the person writing them.

Rain

It's been raining all weekend. Which has been a nice change from the 70 degree weather and dry land. I like the rain. I don't like having to get in an out of my car in the rain, though, that's not so much fun. Adventure Boy and I went out to Brunch yesterday (just the two of us!) and he's in that very independent stage, so while I stood out in the rain he took his time getting into the car and into his seat. I, of course, wound up very wet while he was just as happy as could be. As we drove to brunch he talked and talked and talked. He was a happy Adventure Boy. After brunch he wanted to know where Yo Momma had gone after church. So we drove to the Health Club where Yo Momma and Papa Bear were...only Adventure Boy was all adventured out. Mere seconds before arriving at the Health Club he fell fast asleep.

So I drove. I drove down the road, around the corner and down to the ocean. Another fun effect of this rain storm is the beautiful big waves. While Adventure Boy napped, I sat and watched the waves come in and go out, come in and go out while the rain came down, down, down. It was lovely.

The sound of the rain hitting the roof above the sanctuary at church is one the most beautiful sounds to my ears. I almost wished that the power had gone out yesterday during worship so that we couldn't use the sound system or electric instruments and just sing to the sound of the rain on the roof. Or sit quietly in prayer listening as refreshing rain poured out from God's hand.

The rain clears out a lot of the stuff in the air, the stuff that makes my eyes itch and my nose twitch. The rain makes me think more carefully about where I am going, how fast I am driving and where all the potholes are on the road. The rain washes things away and washes new things in. The rain causes the frogs to rib-rib-ribbet with enthusiasm outside my window and the daffodils to droop a little under the weight of the drops but then makes other flowers blossom beautifully in the spring.

The rain has been around all weekend long...and I like it.