It feels good to give up. -Rosie Thomas

March 14, 2010 § Leave a comment

First, a few bookkeeping items.

1) I don’t think I’ve ever actually started a list with 1.  So I shan’t.

Toaster) Writing in the dark is my favorite.  I have no idea why.  I’ll not feel like typing it out at all, turn off all the lights for sleep, and then very much want to write.  I think I think more in the dark. <—Forgive me, Bethie, for the awful grammar that just happened.

C) Every day should have laughter and chocolate.  I think healthy lives contain both of these two things.

4) No one gets the way I make lists the way Jenn does.

Grapefruit) The 3 best-known western names in Ch!na: Jesus Christ, Richard Nixon, and Elvis Presley.

Sunday is always the most beautiful.  Never slow.  But, definitely a redeeming day in my week and, sometimes, month.  Tonight I had a house full of Vintage21 people after a 4pm decision to have whomever wanted to come eat at 630pm.  The last minute dinners are the best.  All of them were folks I attend church with and we just hung out, shared a beer, and watched the beautiful Andraya try to count to 59.  (She got to 46, got confused, and decided to start over.  At which point, she somehow managed to make it to 56, before getting stuck.  If you ever want a preschooler to stay in time-out, tell them to count to a high number, sit back, and watch.  Though probably not the best decision, I was cracking UP.)

If you haven’t had the chance to hang out with a 3-4 year old, it really is one of the best ages.  As I was sitting at the check-in desk this morning, I hear “Amaaaaaaarriiiiiiss???”
“I’m around here, Dray.”
“Dray, I’m around the corner.  Come around, boo-boo!”
“There you are!!!  I MADE this for you!!!!  Do you LIKE IT?!?!!”
That sound, right there, was my heart falling to the floor.

Meetings, and worship, and service all add up to an incredible day.  (I need a different word than incredible.  Vocabulary is just NOT my bag.  If you’d like to suggest alternatives to incredible, you just lemme know.  As long as I can kind of understand them, I’ll use them.)

And yet, there are days where I am knocked on my bum.  Where I look at pieces of my past life, where I’ve come from, and wonder if I didn’t ‘escape’ Charleston.  Rather, I’ve been very careless with the souls that have come in to my life and I have moved on to spare all involved.  Life is change for sure.  Yet, somehow, my life is constantly outward.  Toronto, Ontario for awhile, now Raleigh.  I’d pay to live anywhere along the coast from San Fran to Seattle and if Jesus put me in Chicago, I would not complain one itty bitty bit.  There are only a handful of people I maintain friendships with in my hometown, and I’m perfectly okay with it.  To hear of old friends that still live there, still hang out, share life….one of those things that makes you wonder if you’ve done something wrong.  If, somehow, you’ve screwed the whole thing up.

Today was, somehow amongst its beauty, like that.

At the same time, and probably related, Jesus and I have had a lot of talk this week about where I am broken.  Where I lay at fault.  And what He’s doing with this season of Lent to get me to shut the hell up.  My tongue was literally numb on Saturday due to talking at volunteer events, work, and amongst friends for 24 straight hours.  You can’t even make that up!  Numb, y’all.  Couldn’t feel half of it.  It was as if Jesus said, “Let this remind you, like a pebble, to listen more.  You are not so important.”

And let’s not even talk about the ways boys are careless.

Lent is a season to examine our humanity and ways in which we separate ourselves from God.  This season is not easy. But, there are things from the past little while that have pushed me to actually give up.  To throw my hands in the air and think, “Jesus, you’ve got this.  ‘Cause I sure cain’t run this.”  Kind of like Carrie Underwood.  (Did I just type that?  I likened myself to Carrie Underwood?  Ack.)  He has asked me to be obedient.  And faithful.  And to strive to love more than I think I am even capable of.  He’s got the rest.

Thy mercy is more than a match for my heart
Which wonders to feel its own hardness depart
Dissolved by thy goodness, I fall to the ground
And weep to the praise of the mercy I’ve found

Through everything, I will praise.  How can I not trust the inventor of lilies and cookie dough and beautiful children?

He’s enough.


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