I think I'm starting to feel like myself again.
Thank you, Lord, for the people you put in my life. Their kindness reflected your love.
I led them with cords of human kindness; with ties of love...
--Hosea 11:4
It's beautiful to me to know that God can use our kindness to lead others to him. May every act of kindness I do be used in a such a way.
For your glory, Lord.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
I Like the Little Things
It was a discouraging day today.
But God, in his infinite wisdom and an unfailing love showed me once again, that he still cares. And he will still show this through people...even if they are random.
Today, it was my chiropractor.
We were in his office, talking about my one month reassessment. Because it's me, I ended up asking him more questions about his sleeping patterns than he did about mine. Realizing that I had yet, once again, turned the tables in controlling the conversation, he laughed and asked me what I would recommend for his sleeping problems.
I leaned forward and said with a raised eyebrow that I because I wasn't licensed, I couldn't give him medical advice, but I thought he should consult his doctor. And with a smile, I told him I knew a name of a few chiropractors. He laughed again and we talked about my schooling, when I graduated college and high school, where I went to high school, how long I lived in Tacoma and where my family lived. We chatted about where he grew up and his adventures in baseball.
Sadly, our conversation had to end, because, truly, I had an actual medical appointment, not a first date. (E-mail me if you want my thoughts on that one).
Sure, I'm a bit of a flirt (the debate is out there if I am one or not) and he was asking those questions to get to know me. Or maybe I just carry a good conversation. But in the end, I found it refreshing to have someone hold a conversation with me. I learned about them, they learn about me. Usually its one sided, but this time, it wasn't.
And after a whole day of feeling like I was never going to be heard and that I was destined for a life of silence, it was nice to have someone actually sit down across from me, look in me in the eyes and let me share a little bit about my life.
It doesn't have to mean anything, but one fifteen minute conversation proved to me that a little bit can still mean a lot.
But God, in his infinite wisdom and an unfailing love showed me once again, that he still cares. And he will still show this through people...even if they are random.
Today, it was my chiropractor.
We were in his office, talking about my one month reassessment. Because it's me, I ended up asking him more questions about his sleeping patterns than he did about mine. Realizing that I had yet, once again, turned the tables in controlling the conversation, he laughed and asked me what I would recommend for his sleeping problems.
I leaned forward and said with a raised eyebrow that I because I wasn't licensed, I couldn't give him medical advice, but I thought he should consult his doctor. And with a smile, I told him I knew a name of a few chiropractors. He laughed again and we talked about my schooling, when I graduated college and high school, where I went to high school, how long I lived in Tacoma and where my family lived. We chatted about where he grew up and his adventures in baseball.
Sadly, our conversation had to end, because, truly, I had an actual medical appointment, not a first date. (E-mail me if you want my thoughts on that one).
Sure, I'm a bit of a flirt (the debate is out there if I am one or not) and he was asking those questions to get to know me. Or maybe I just carry a good conversation. But in the end, I found it refreshing to have someone hold a conversation with me. I learned about them, they learn about me. Usually its one sided, but this time, it wasn't.
And after a whole day of feeling like I was never going to be heard and that I was destined for a life of silence, it was nice to have someone actually sit down across from me, look in me in the eyes and let me share a little bit about my life.
It doesn't have to mean anything, but one fifteen minute conversation proved to me that a little bit can still mean a lot.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Lessons from the Wizard...of Oz
First of all, I love the movie, The Wizard of Oz. Now that I'm a little older than when I first loved it, I find it to be such a smart and entertaining movie. I could probably devote a million blogs on this movie alone, but I will spare my two loyal readers. :-D
But for the moment, I will share only three observations. In lieu of my last marathon entry, I will keep this brief...er.
1. The Yellow Brick Road. It was the instruction Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, gave Dorothy when she began her journey home: follow the yellow brick road. It seemed simple enough, and Dorothy had to trust that it would not lead her astray.
But when Dorothy came to the fork in the road where she met the Scarecrow, she hesitated. Doubt plagued her...which road should she take? Was she lost? What happens if she went to the right or to the left?
Paralyzed by her fear of being lost, she neglected to notice that both roads were made of yellow bricks, and so forgot her only instruction: follow the yellow brick road. If Glinda was right, and all she had to do was follow the yellow brick road, she would find her way home...and either road would take her there...that is, if they were both yellow.
I often forget my instructions when faced with a hard decision. Paralyzed by fear and failure, I forget that no matter road I take, if I follow Jesus, I will get to where I am going.
2. The Wicked Witch of the West. When the Wicked Witch threatens Dorothy in Munchkinland, Glinda wraps a protective arm around Dorothy and says laughingly to the Wicked Witch:
"Rubbish! You have no power here! Begone!"
Wicked Witch, though quite a fearsome creature to behold, had no real power under real authority. How often I forget that Satan, though powerful enough, has no real power where God resides. And with a simple reminder under the full authority of God, he'll leave me alone, too.
3. Brains. One of my favorite quotes come in the scene where Dorothy meets the Scarecrow. He admits to her that he doesn't have a brain. She asks how he was able to talk if he didn't have a brain. His reply:
"But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking."
I tend not to be cynical when it comes to the Presidential Election, but a person can only take so much! Yes, there is a lot of talk out there. We tend to make stupid decisions, individually and as a group, but we are not stupid. We have the ability to make our own minds, and all we are asking is for the facts, not spin. Now, I can't say that people don't do stupid things (because many people do) but I am tired of a governmental leadership assuming that we cannot make an informed decision if we are given all of the facts.
Sadly, we can't fix the problem with a broken system. Talking heads are what we left with, and the Presidential Election will appear again in four years when, again, change is all we talk about.
I hope, with or without an Presidential election year, that we never stop talking about change. But I also hope that we do more than talk, that we would continue working toward a better world for our children and reaching those for the glory of God.
4. Puns. I hate puns. But this movie gets away with it. When Dorothy and the Scarecrow meet the Tin Man, he mumbles...
Dorothy: [to Scarecrow] He said oil can.
Scarecrow: Oil can what?
As a child, I didn't get it. Now that I do, I can't stop laughing.
But for the moment, I will share only three observations. In lieu of my last marathon entry, I will keep this brief...er.
1. The Yellow Brick Road. It was the instruction Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, gave Dorothy when she began her journey home: follow the yellow brick road. It seemed simple enough, and Dorothy had to trust that it would not lead her astray.
But when Dorothy came to the fork in the road where she met the Scarecrow, she hesitated. Doubt plagued her...which road should she take? Was she lost? What happens if she went to the right or to the left?
Paralyzed by her fear of being lost, she neglected to notice that both roads were made of yellow bricks, and so forgot her only instruction: follow the yellow brick road. If Glinda was right, and all she had to do was follow the yellow brick road, she would find her way home...and either road would take her there...that is, if they were both yellow.
I often forget my instructions when faced with a hard decision. Paralyzed by fear and failure, I forget that no matter road I take, if I follow Jesus, I will get to where I am going.
2. The Wicked Witch of the West. When the Wicked Witch threatens Dorothy in Munchkinland, Glinda wraps a protective arm around Dorothy and says laughingly to the Wicked Witch:
"Rubbish! You have no power here! Begone!"
Wicked Witch, though quite a fearsome creature to behold, had no real power under real authority. How often I forget that Satan, though powerful enough, has no real power where God resides. And with a simple reminder under the full authority of God, he'll leave me alone, too.
3. Brains. One of my favorite quotes come in the scene where Dorothy meets the Scarecrow. He admits to her that he doesn't have a brain. She asks how he was able to talk if he didn't have a brain. His reply:
"But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking."
I tend not to be cynical when it comes to the Presidential Election, but a person can only take so much! Yes, there is a lot of talk out there. We tend to make stupid decisions, individually and as a group, but we are not stupid. We have the ability to make our own minds, and all we are asking is for the facts, not spin. Now, I can't say that people don't do stupid things (because many people do) but I am tired of a governmental leadership assuming that we cannot make an informed decision if we are given all of the facts.
Sadly, we can't fix the problem with a broken system. Talking heads are what we left with, and the Presidential Election will appear again in four years when, again, change is all we talk about.
I hope, with or without an Presidential election year, that we never stop talking about change. But I also hope that we do more than talk, that we would continue working toward a better world for our children and reaching those for the glory of God.
4. Puns. I hate puns. But this movie gets away with it. When Dorothy and the Scarecrow meet the Tin Man, he mumbles...
Dorothy: [to Scarecrow] He said oil can.
Scarecrow: Oil can what?
As a child, I didn't get it. Now that I do, I can't stop laughing.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Speaking in Code
So, I was sitting at the coffee shop, when I was engaged in a random conversation with a guy at the end of the bar.
He was about 50, a little disheveled but not quite out of place. He seemed nice enough. And he obviously liked talking to people.
Not that I spend a lot of time at the coffee shop, but I didn't recognize him. He later tells me that this was his first time in the coffee shop and he really enjoyed it. After that moment, we shoot the breeze about whether I was a student, where I attended school and where I worked now.
Ah, the holy trinity of conversation topics when people don't know how to approach me and they see that I am not wearing a wedding ring.
Again, he seemed nice enough. But I found myself a bit uncomfortable. He kept staring at me, especially when I was cracking jokes with my friends at the coffee shop and tipped my head back in laughter. I kept wondering why he was staring at me. It wasn't the typical ogling from prior encounters I had with men his age. It was like he was trying to figure me out.
Our stilted conversation drifted to my job. Unlike some people, he actually knew where World Vision was located. And even more so, he knew what we did.
Random Man: You guys do good work.
Me: We try. Its hard work.
Random Man: You're a humanitarian--did I say that right?
Me: Yes. We're a Christian humanitarian oranization.
Random Man: I like your work. [He touches his heart] And you are one of them, aren't you?
Them? I raise an eyebrow.
Random Man: I am, too.
Oh. He meant Christian.
What do you say to that? My offering was a shy smile and a paltry "I'm glad."
And then came the staring and his attempt to figure me out. At one point, one of my coffee shop friends came by and the conversation turned to the economy.
Random Man: I don't worry about it. Everything will turn out all right.
Me: Yes, it will.
Random Man: That's me. 24/7. I've been through three changes in the economy. But people like you and me don't need to worry.
Me: [Offering a small smile] I suppose you're right.
He laughs, as if I was confirming his suspicions about me. I try to shrug it off. But my own calculations were confirmed when he came to my corner before he left the store. He shook my hand, and whispered low:
Random Man: You're saved, aren't you?
It was a statement, not a question.
Suddenly all of his comments made sense. He was trying to figure out if I was saved. But he wasn't finished with his detective work.
Random Man: I knew it. I knew you were when you were talking. I knew you were a little uncomfortable, but it isn't about being saved.
Not really. I just have a hard time with strangers who stare at me. I never know what to say. And since I have lived a lifetime of being uncomfortable, this wasn't entirely new. But what he didn't know was that the past two weeks I had been dealing with my comfort level and how I interact with people--friends, family...and random strangers in my coffee shop.
Random Man: I think you're a very happy person. But you don't laugh very much, do you?
What I wanted to say was "I love to laugh." But what I said was the unfiltered truth.
Me: No. At least, not as of late. But it's getting better.
Random Man: You should. You have a great laugh. And I kept thinking that you need to laugh more. All I wanted to do was keep your smile on your face.
Hello, High Walls of Discomfort.
What do you say when the person you had just met sees so much about you? I was touched by his sensitive observations but I was also angry that just because he broke the code to our somewhat "secret" society, (which is a blog in of itself!) it doesn't mean he can tell me what he thinks needs to be fixed about me.
To be quite honest, I wasn't that angry. Uncomfortable, yes, but not angry. I don't know if the discomfort will go away when I meet up with people who stare at me. But Random Man was nice enough and I believe he did not mean me harm. The verdict is still out on how I feel about our conversation. I'm sure I won't see him again, at least not on this side of heaven. Apparently, that's what it means to be part of the same club. But I'm sure I'll be glad to see him again.
Its a wonder to me that these conversations with strangers are becoming more frequent. God is using people who don't know anything about me to reveal things that people don't often say to me. And I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.
He was about 50, a little disheveled but not quite out of place. He seemed nice enough. And he obviously liked talking to people.
Not that I spend a lot of time at the coffee shop, but I didn't recognize him. He later tells me that this was his first time in the coffee shop and he really enjoyed it. After that moment, we shoot the breeze about whether I was a student, where I attended school and where I worked now.
Ah, the holy trinity of conversation topics when people don't know how to approach me and they see that I am not wearing a wedding ring.
Again, he seemed nice enough. But I found myself a bit uncomfortable. He kept staring at me, especially when I was cracking jokes with my friends at the coffee shop and tipped my head back in laughter. I kept wondering why he was staring at me. It wasn't the typical ogling from prior encounters I had with men his age. It was like he was trying to figure me out.
Our stilted conversation drifted to my job. Unlike some people, he actually knew where World Vision was located. And even more so, he knew what we did.
Random Man: You guys do good work.
Me: We try. Its hard work.
Random Man: You're a humanitarian--did I say that right?
Me: Yes. We're a Christian humanitarian oranization.
Random Man: I like your work. [He touches his heart] And you are one of them, aren't you?
Them? I raise an eyebrow.
Random Man: I am, too.
Oh. He meant Christian.
What do you say to that? My offering was a shy smile and a paltry "I'm glad."
And then came the staring and his attempt to figure me out. At one point, one of my coffee shop friends came by and the conversation turned to the economy.
Random Man: I don't worry about it. Everything will turn out all right.
Me: Yes, it will.
Random Man: That's me. 24/7. I've been through three changes in the economy. But people like you and me don't need to worry.
Me: [Offering a small smile] I suppose you're right.
He laughs, as if I was confirming his suspicions about me. I try to shrug it off. But my own calculations were confirmed when he came to my corner before he left the store. He shook my hand, and whispered low:
Random Man: You're saved, aren't you?
It was a statement, not a question.
Suddenly all of his comments made sense. He was trying to figure out if I was saved. But he wasn't finished with his detective work.
Random Man: I knew it. I knew you were when you were talking. I knew you were a little uncomfortable, but it isn't about being saved.
Not really. I just have a hard time with strangers who stare at me. I never know what to say. And since I have lived a lifetime of being uncomfortable, this wasn't entirely new. But what he didn't know was that the past two weeks I had been dealing with my comfort level and how I interact with people--friends, family...and random strangers in my coffee shop.
Random Man: I think you're a very happy person. But you don't laugh very much, do you?
What I wanted to say was "I love to laugh." But what I said was the unfiltered truth.
Me: No. At least, not as of late. But it's getting better.
Random Man: You should. You have a great laugh. And I kept thinking that you need to laugh more. All I wanted to do was keep your smile on your face.
Hello, High Walls of Discomfort.
What do you say when the person you had just met sees so much about you? I was touched by his sensitive observations but I was also angry that just because he broke the code to our somewhat "secret" society, (which is a blog in of itself!) it doesn't mean he can tell me what he thinks needs to be fixed about me.
To be quite honest, I wasn't that angry. Uncomfortable, yes, but not angry. I don't know if the discomfort will go away when I meet up with people who stare at me. But Random Man was nice enough and I believe he did not mean me harm. The verdict is still out on how I feel about our conversation. I'm sure I won't see him again, at least not on this side of heaven. Apparently, that's what it means to be part of the same club. But I'm sure I'll be glad to see him again.
Its a wonder to me that these conversations with strangers are becoming more frequent. God is using people who don't know anything about me to reveal things that people don't often say to me. And I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Losing Obsession
Ok. Last month, I declared that one of my goals was to get to a healthy body weight by next fall. My hope was that by living healthier was a good goal and one not based on vanity. I would focus on achieving a change in lifestyles instead of setting a concete goal in hopes that I won't become obsessed on how I look.
Vanity. It's all vanity.
And so, I made a silent pact with myself not to weigh myself. This came when I weighed myself last August after the stomach flu and toyed with the idea of becoming healthy. Eight weeks later, my friend asked me how much weight I had lost.
I must have made a face because she felt the need to explain herself. "You do know you're losing weight, right?"
Actually, I've been so good at denial, that I didn't even notice. I didn't think I had lost any weight. I look the same to me.
After much begging and prodding, she convinced me to weigh myself at the scale in our office space. She said that I would be surprised at the results. I didn't want to know, but then I did want to know...was any of this effort paying off?
And so I stepped onto that scale and slid the weights over to the right. I went straight to where I was before, and with utter surprise, I had to move it over to the left. I started with one notch. And then two. And seeing that I was making no progress moving it slowly, I slide it over the notch that was one pound less than where I was before.
No movement.
With a raised eyebrow I kept sliding the little weight that I had become so fearful of until the reader told me it was balanced.
Ten pounds.
Ten pounds? I blinked at disbelief. I then did the calculations in my head. Stats of every kind filled my brain. I then saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror and I still don't see the difference.
It was then that I realized how quickly I had stepped into obsession.
Vanity. All vanity.
So there's a fine line I'm walking. Although I'm proud of my achievement (even if I don't believe it) I don't want it to consume me. I'm still Abby. I was Abby ten pounds heavier and I am still Abby ten pounds lighter. I will still be Abby in Fall 2009 whether I lose the pounds or not. I intend to lose the pounds and my obsession...and not lose myself in the process.
But I will confess this: it feels good. And that's what I wanted to share at this random part of this journey.
Vanity. It's all vanity.
And so, I made a silent pact with myself not to weigh myself. This came when I weighed myself last August after the stomach flu and toyed with the idea of becoming healthy. Eight weeks later, my friend asked me how much weight I had lost.
I must have made a face because she felt the need to explain herself. "You do know you're losing weight, right?"
Actually, I've been so good at denial, that I didn't even notice. I didn't think I had lost any weight. I look the same to me.
After much begging and prodding, she convinced me to weigh myself at the scale in our office space. She said that I would be surprised at the results. I didn't want to know, but then I did want to know...was any of this effort paying off?
And so I stepped onto that scale and slid the weights over to the right. I went straight to where I was before, and with utter surprise, I had to move it over to the left. I started with one notch. And then two. And seeing that I was making no progress moving it slowly, I slide it over the notch that was one pound less than where I was before.
No movement.
With a raised eyebrow I kept sliding the little weight that I had become so fearful of until the reader told me it was balanced.
Ten pounds.
Ten pounds? I blinked at disbelief. I then did the calculations in my head. Stats of every kind filled my brain. I then saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror and I still don't see the difference.
It was then that I realized how quickly I had stepped into obsession.
Vanity. All vanity.
So there's a fine line I'm walking. Although I'm proud of my achievement (even if I don't believe it) I don't want it to consume me. I'm still Abby. I was Abby ten pounds heavier and I am still Abby ten pounds lighter. I will still be Abby in Fall 2009 whether I lose the pounds or not. I intend to lose the pounds and my obsession...and not lose myself in the process.
But I will confess this: it feels good. And that's what I wanted to share at this random part of this journey.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Small Victories and Big Wins
Sunday was a good day.
Victory: I got out of bed.
Victory: I didn't avoid someone that I have been avoiding for a few months now. We still can't talk, but at least I'm trying. Maybe someday we'll have a real conversation.
Win: I made dinner last night that I was actually proud of and probably would serve to other people. Yes, I can almost cook.
Win: I went to the Y and realized that I had shaved off fifteen seconds from the mile for the third time in a row. It wasn't a fluke.
Victory (ish): I "stole" the church's keyboard for a few days. Due to poor planning, I dragged the heavy, cumbersome keyboard up a flight of stairs and into my apartment by myself. Don't know how I'm going to get it into my car Thursday morning.
Win: Because I stole the aforementioned keyboard, I got to spend three hours of playing piano and remembering how much I loved playing and how good I used to be. Great conversation with God through music. I am grateful that I can express how much I love God in this way.
I understand that there really isn't a difference between the victories and wins that I had listed. But it doesn't matter. Its been so long since I've actually had more in the column for victoriess and wins than for struggles and losses.
Yes. Sunday was a good day.
Victory: I got out of bed.
Victory: I didn't avoid someone that I have been avoiding for a few months now. We still can't talk, but at least I'm trying. Maybe someday we'll have a real conversation.
Win: I made dinner last night that I was actually proud of and probably would serve to other people. Yes, I can almost cook.
Win: I went to the Y and realized that I had shaved off fifteen seconds from the mile for the third time in a row. It wasn't a fluke.
Victory (ish): I "stole" the church's keyboard for a few days. Due to poor planning, I dragged the heavy, cumbersome keyboard up a flight of stairs and into my apartment by myself. Don't know how I'm going to get it into my car Thursday morning.
Win: Because I stole the aforementioned keyboard, I got to spend three hours of playing piano and remembering how much I loved playing and how good I used to be. Great conversation with God through music. I am grateful that I can express how much I love God in this way.
I understand that there really isn't a difference between the victories and wins that I had listed. But it doesn't matter. Its been so long since I've actually had more in the column for victoriess and wins than for struggles and losses.
Yes. Sunday was a good day.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
I lent voice to thought and that was my mistake
They say that saying it out loud helps.
A few days ago I admitted to a friend of mine the true struggle that lay beneath all the other struggles these past nine months. Now its out there, floating in the air. And I don't know what to do with it. However, saying it out loud did help me get out of bed the next morning. I was able to go to work, get through my normal every day life as I silently pondered what I was going to do.
I said it out loud--this stupid thing that brings so much shame. But I didn't feel better. I was running out of places to find the answers, and all I really wanted to do was get on with my life and function.
Although I did find myself annoyed more than comforted, I was pleasantly surprised by the people God had used to show me comfort and love. It wasn't those I had expected to extend a helping hand. Most of these people barely knew me, but still showed care. They didn't expect any details about my current trials. They didn't ask or prod, but tilted their heads and with a gentle voice told me that they loved me; were praying for me. They didn't have to know what was wrong--they only knew that something was wrong and offered me what they could--no matter how small the measurement.
It is amazing what a difference a smile makes. Or a caring touch. Or an impromptu dinner over news and politics. Or a hand firmly gripping mine, to offer whatever strength they had to help me get through whatever nameless thing I was going through.
My heart was moved by those who didn't offer words of advice, and led me to the care of God's hands. To those people, I am truly grateful. You may never know how bad it truly got, but each of your small smiles kept this failing heart going. Don't ever think that what you do is meaningless.
I just hope that someday I can return the favor.
My God loves me. And if there was any indication from the friends and random strangers he had used to show me this, I know this love is real.
They say that saying it out loud helps.
A few days ago I admitted to a friend of mine the true struggle that lay beneath all the other struggles these past nine months. Now its out there, floating in the air. And I don't know what to do with it. However, saying it out loud did help me get out of bed the next morning. I was able to go to work, get through my normal every day life as I silently pondered what I was going to do.
I said it out loud--this stupid thing that brings so much shame. But I didn't feel better. I was running out of places to find the answers, and all I really wanted to do was get on with my life and function.
Although I did find myself annoyed more than comforted, I was pleasantly surprised by the people God had used to show me comfort and love. It wasn't those I had expected to extend a helping hand. Most of these people barely knew me, but still showed care. They didn't expect any details about my current trials. They didn't ask or prod, but tilted their heads and with a gentle voice told me that they loved me; were praying for me. They didn't have to know what was wrong--they only knew that something was wrong and offered me what they could--no matter how small the measurement.
It is amazing what a difference a smile makes. Or a caring touch. Or an impromptu dinner over news and politics. Or a hand firmly gripping mine, to offer whatever strength they had to help me get through whatever nameless thing I was going through.
My heart was moved by those who didn't offer words of advice, and led me to the care of God's hands. To those people, I am truly grateful. You may never know how bad it truly got, but each of your small smiles kept this failing heart going. Don't ever think that what you do is meaningless.
I just hope that someday I can return the favor.
My God loves me. And if there was any indication from the friends and random strangers he had used to show me this, I know this love is real.
They say that saying it out loud helps.
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