Beer Lahai Roi

We don't even have time to look at one another.
--Emily Webb, "Our Town"

[Hagar] gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her. "You are the God who sees me, for she said, I have no seen the One who sees me. That is why the well was called Beer Lahai Roi..."
--Genesis 13:14

I'm a behind-the-scenes type of person.

I enjoy the process more than the finished product. I really am only good in support. And that type of position lends itself to fears of being overlooked, ignored, or forgotten.

At the same time, I am sure that I overlooked, ignored, or forgotton someone. [Ouch.] We don't do this deliberately, but it still happens. And it still hurts others.

When do we take time to look at someone? I mean, really see them? There are many studies of what happens to a person, especially the marginalized ones, when someone stops and sees them. Their entire disposition changes. They're alive. Encouraged. Empowered. This is the power that comes when we truly see one another.

I suppose that is why I love this passage in the Bible. Hagar was a maidservant of Sarai, (later, called Sarah). Sarai had ordered Hagar to bear Abram's child because Sarai was barren. Sarai hated Hagar because she became pregnant and so she abused her. Hagar fled, wanting both her and her son to die. But the Lord heard her cries, spoke to her, and blessed her son. And she named where she met God, Beer Lahai Roi.

Now, the blessing over her son, Ishmael, doesn't top the list of blessings you hope people will speak over your children. But what Hagar took away from her meeting with God was that God sees her. And she can go on because she knows that the one who sees her loves her.

I love that God sees us. He truly sees us. It's not the flippant "Oh, there's Abby doing something over there. I trust it's going to be ok" but a deliberate affirmation of "I see her and I know who she is. And I love her."

I am not overlooked. I am not ignored. I am not forgotten. And it is in that confidence that I can continue being the behind-the-scenes girl and truly enjoy it.

I hope to take the time to be an encouragement to those who feel overlooked, ignored or forgotten. And I hope that in doing so, we can catch a glimpse of the goodness of the God who sees us.

Sonatina in C Major by Muzio Clementi

If anyone had taken piano lessons or attended a piano recital of beginners, this song is a major staple.

Every time I hear this song, I am reminded of learning this song for one of my first recitals. I remember thinking, "I really am a piano player. This song is like seven pages long. And it has three movements."

Really, I am a nerd.

At any rate, there is a piano at the Coffee Shop. Sometimes people will play a few songs, just dinking around. One day, a father approached the Coffee Shop employee working at the time and asked if his daughter could practice a song at the piano. The girl was probably around 11 or 12 and she shied away from her father's request. However, once permission was granted, she sat at the piano and nervously played the first melodic phrase of Sonatina. Her father urged her on and asked her not to be shy.

She actually played the first and second movement quite well. But it didn't matter how much she struggled, her father sat there, proud of his daughter.

As I watched this scene unfold, I was reminded of numerous practices-turned-performances at my grandparents' house. I hated practicing in front of them, especially with the sudden pressure not to make a mistake. (Really, who wants to listen to Hanon technique drills and scales for a half hour?)

But when I was listening to the young girl struggle through the second movement, but conquering it at the end, I finally understood why my family liked listening to my practices. Music is a beautiful thing.

I know this is a silly dream, but I sincerely hope to own a house, finally buy that piano, and conduct piano lessons. Teaching people how to play and see them make that transition from pounding notes into producing music brings me so much joy.

And I promise you, one of my students will be playing Sonatina in C Major by Muzio Clementi at one of my piano recitals.

Lies!

You're beautiful, and I am weakened by the force of your eyes. So shine bright, and separate the truth from the lies.
--Jars of Clay, "Show You Love"

Every once in awhile, if encountering something completely insane and non sequitur, I'll randomly scream: "Lies!"

Also, I've adopted the word "lame" (from the "boys are lame" incident in the van during the Worship Conference last year...ask Traci or Mary Fredricks).

I suppose there are lies we've come to accept as truth. It doesn't matter when we started believing we are less than we are; we often make one little lie into the mantra that somehow became the master of our lives.

Lies: aka, Sneaky McSneakerson.

Ok...I'm done being silly. In the past few days, I've had a few conversations with people about lies disguised as truth. It doesn't have to be a huge lie; a lie is a lie. In my own experience, I've repeated certain lies so many times in my head that they've become my "truth." And I'm pretty confident I'm not alone in that struggle.

How does one overcome a lie? The answer seems relatively simple, but it's far from easy. How do you replace lies with truth when you're left to your own devices and that voice creeps up again, whispering, "are you really sure you believe that?"

Lies!

I may not be the only one who fights with believing a lie and trying to replace it with truth. But I can't help but imagine how wonderful life would be if we lived in the truth instead of being mastered by a lie.

Veritas vos liberabit.

An Instrument of Peace

It's not a secret: lately, I've been thinking about my former Catholicism.

I can't go back, nor do I want to, but in my recent contemplation of the life I left behind, I came across this prayer that I had memorized during my days as the Model Catholic Girl:

A Prayer of St. Francis:

Lord make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
And where there is sadness, joy.

O divine master grant that I may
not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive--
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.

I didn't understand it when I was younger, but reading it now, it speaks to my very often selfish soul and touches a very deep part of my heart. Sometimes we make everything about "us" that we forget how to be humble and put others before ourselves. Sometimes we make serving and loving more complicated than it should be.

And isn't pretty, but most of the time, we take more than we give and somehow expect something in return.

It's astonishing how God can still love us.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. May I seek to understand rather than to be understood.

Be a blessing, everyone.

Timing

Time, it seems, has gotten away from me.

I've been so busy lately, running from one thing to the next, that I haven't had time to think, let alone blog.

With summer just around the corner, a lot of the things I am involved in will slow down. As such, I finally have some "free" time. Being someone who thrives on routine, I am not sure what to do with large blocks of time that aren't planned.

However, because I have the chance to slow down, I realized how much I had missed when I was going from one place to another. Hanging out with friends won't seem like meetings, but just time spent together. (Imagine that!) I might get to breathe once in awhile, and go to bed at a decent hour. And maybe I won't always feel like I'm playing catch up in the areas where I fell behind.

Yesterday was further proof of the beauty of free time. I was able to see my friends and actually see them and have a conversation with that lasts more than two minutes. I was able to listen to someone who normally doesn't share what is going on and hear their life story in a rare opportunity I would have missed if I had been running around. I was able to enjoy rehearsal and slow down enough where I got to know the people who play on the worship team week after week. And after that, I was able to play piano for the sake of playing instead of leading or performing.

Life will always have a potential of being busy. But I am sad to think of all the things I would miss if I didn't take the time to just be.

I Blame JJ Abrams

My confession: I just watched the Star Trek movie...and enjoyed it.

Now, I will admit that the only reason why I watched the movie is because I am a LOST fan, and Kristin and Bard had an extra ticket and asked me to come. I hesitated because I had never seen a Star Trek episode in its entirety before this moment and I wasn't sure if I would enjoy it.

I'm glad I was wrong.

My friend Amanda says that JJ Abrams puts crack in all of his shows. She may not be wrong, because I think one of the reasons why I enjoyed the show is because he is the man behind the curtain.

The other reason I enjoyed the movie is because I have a soft spot for heroes who don't know they're heroes. (For this, I blame Joss Whedon). I love the heroes who keep going even though they are getting beat up by someone who is stronger, smarter, and more invested in winning than they are. I love the heroes who are engaged in a war that they didn't know they were in the middle of but don't turn away because they can't ignore the new knowledge they had just attained. I love the heroes who do the right thing because it is the right thing to do.

Basically, I love the heroes who get up from the mat and keep fighting merely because they fully believe (at times foolishly) that they must win a battle they didn't know they were supposed to lose.

I don't know...I guess I am inspired by those who have the ability to ignore those who tell them they can't do something...and do it anyway. And I love it when they win.

JJ Abrams didn't make this formula up (and neither did Joss Whedon) and there isn't anything new under the sun...especially movie plotlines. But it's nice to be reminded of the heroes and the qualities we would most like to see in ourselves and in others.

Blinking Cursors, the Longshot, and the Random Ending

I don't know if it's because I'm out of practice, or because of this dry spell that has had me in a funk for the entire month of April, but I haven't written much on this blog lately.

Right now, the blinking cursor on my computer screen is mocking me and my supposed writer's block. It's been an hour since I pulled up my blog and all I've accomplished is finishing this blueberry scone and my cup of coffee. (Mmm...I might need another cup before I head to church...oh, The Coffee Shop).

Today's offering is about the underdog.

I don't follow horse races, but three people have brought up horse races in the past few days, so I figured something major was going on.

Apparently, the Kentucky Derby was on Saturday.

What I knew before today (Sunday) was that the heavy favorite had to bow out of the race. No real predictable reason, I suppose, but a huge disappointment, especially those who had already placed their bets.

This morning, I found out that the actual winner of that race was the complete underdog. And it wasn't a photo finish; the winner won by several horse lengths. Mine That Bird (who comes up with these names?) was a 50-1 longshot and surprised and delighted those who actually watched the race.

I suppose everyone loves an underdog story. They inspire and excite us, and help us believe that anything truly can happen. But this particular story amused me for reasons I can't quite explain (hence, this cursed writer's block).

Sometimes the ones that we don't pay much attention to are the ones that win in the end. And often I find that it's the random surprises that I delight in the most.

Things I Find in My Car

In my old car, I would find the craziest things.

Most of the time, it would things I had long forgotten: books, papers, files, an extra pair of socks. And for some reason, I had this reputation of finding pairs of shoes in my car.

Yes, my old car was a mobile shoe closet.

Friday, I wished that I still had a mobile shoe closet. My shoe broke and I had to fasten the broken buckle with a paper clip. The picture can be found on Facebook. Sigh.

At any rate, the point of this very random blog is that in my current car, every time I open the car door, I am met with a wall of a sweet scent. I don't own a car freshener, and I am not used to my car smelling like anything other than coffee. (Sigh. Some things don't change.)

I thought nothing of it until today. The scent was overwhelming. It was sweet, and very fruity. I don't opt for fruity smells...but the basis for that crazy opinion shall be saved for another blog. I couldn't find anything until I uncovered a gift bag. In it was a cherry-scented candle that my co-workers had bought for me for my birthday. And due to the hot weather lately, the wax had partially melted, unearthing the sweet smell.

It's not a pair of shoes, but it nearly tops the list of the random things I find in my car.