known
What are you known for?
My husband is notorious for asking that question when we visit a restaurant. He wants to know what’s uniquely theirs that keeps people coming back for more. And then he usually orders it. He wants to taste and see for himself.
Sometimes it’s bit him in the butt. Like the time in Sicily he ended up with an entire fish—bones, head, insides, and all! But most of the time he really enjoys whatever it is they’re known for.
I’ve been thinking lately about his famous question—but in the context of me. What am I known for?
I could easily tell you what I want to be known for. But what I actually am? That takes some more thinking. I think it’s a question worth knowing the answer to, though.
How about you? What are you known for?
Maybe it’s your contagious laughter, or your gentle spirit. Perhaps it’s your loyalty, your passion for God, or your spontaneity. It could be your authenticity, or your love of baking. Or even your much-applied minty lip gloss.
Ruminate for a minute, and then let us know what you think. I’ll be back later to answer the question for myself.
What are you known for?
Feel free to answer anonymously.
coffee talk: blogging
True or False?
i am so not a morning person
Which one do you usually find yourself saying?
face time
Have you seen Dentyne’s current ad campaign?
I think it’s sheer creative genius. Mostly because it deeply resonates with people. And while it doesn’t make me want to blow bubbles with Dentyne gum, it does make me want to put down my laptop and enjoy some face time.
Living in Africa for over a decade, the internet has been my life source for connections. Most of my friendships have never been sustained with phone calls, coffee dates, lunches, or visits. Instead, they’ve been cultivated with emails, instant messages, blogging, and video chats.
Lately I’ve heard a lot of dialogue about whether or not community can be found online. This much I know is true: It can. I’m grateful for the rich, genuine friendships that I’ve fostered over the internet.
But while I appreciate the value of “technologically advanced” friendships, I also recognize the significance of what I’ve missed in actual face time. A text message communicates far less than a long, tight hug. A phone call pales in comparison with the unspoken expressions of a glance or a touch. An online chat is merely a shadow of a chai-in-hand conversation on a coffee shop couch.
I’ll always be grateful for whatever form of connection and affection I’m blessed to have. But whenever possible, please can I have some face time?
‘Cause, seriously… What I wouldn’t give for a hug like this today—
upside down
It’s the weekend. And I’m feelin’ a little lazy. So, I’m putting you in charge of my blog.
Who?
You.
I’m gonna write a comment, and you’re gonna write something that would’ve gotten that response outta me.
Got it?
Good.
Tell me something that would make me say—
“So glad you shared. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.”
meet dwayne
There’s a certain Starbucks I visit fairly often, usually for hours on end with my laptop, journal, or Bible coming along for company. And there’s a certain older gentleman who visits there just as regularly as I do. Dwayne’s guaranteed to be found reading a newspaper, playing sudoku, or taking a nap in the middle of either.
The other day I pit-stopped in a Starbucks on the complete other side of town. As I pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a familiar face enjoying a smoke outside. What was Dwayne doing here?!
“I feel like I’ve been caught cheating on my wife,” he said when he saw me. He chuckled; I looked away and smiled.
In a strange city where I know practically no one, I was caught off guard by running into someone I “know”. Made me realize just how long I’ve actually been here, and the fact that three months is a pretty long temporary.
I’m back in my usual Bux today after a bit of a hiatus. And Dwayne’s not here. I wonder where he is, and if he’s okay.
And I wonder if he’s wondered the same about me.
sweet surrender
The other day a dear friend said something to me that just won’t leave me alone. It keeps reverberating off the walls of my heart and echoing through the halls of my mind.
You see, I’ve been wrestling with surrender.
I can already hear those of you who will tell me that wrestling with surrender is counterproductive. I get that surrender is about releasing. Letting go. Relinquishing. That’s exactly why I’m wrestling with it.
I need to get this right.
Anyway.
Ked’s words seemed to get right to the core of the surrender issue for me.
In all honesty, I’m simply not there yet to wholeheartedly tell God, “You pick!”
But I’m gonna keep wrestling with surrender until I can.
How about you?
meet gym
I’ve been hanging out with Gym a lot lately. Like five or six times a week. And let me tell you, he’s been kicking my butt. Kick.Ing.It.
With a name like Urban Active, how could I resist joining? I knew I needed to do something not only to get in shape but also to improve my mental/emotional health. So I hooked up with Gym.
To say I was intimidated on our first date would be a ridiculous understatement. My chest tightened with anxiety just looking at all the equipment that I had no clue how to use, and seeing all the people who very clearly knew what they were doing.
But I dove right in, expending more energy in one 20-minute session than I had in weeks. Months.
And I hobbled for days afterward. No lie. Hover-peeing was completely out of the question, and walking down a set of stairs nearly ended in catastrophe on more than one occasion.
But I kept seeing Gym.
And the I-can’t-believe-it-hurts-this-much soreness gradually subsided—for the most part.
Now Gym and I spend an hour together just about every day. I work hard; I sweat a disgusting amount; I huff and puff all the way to the bitter end. Today I pushed myself really hard. And I’ve had jell-o legs ever since. [Note to self: Hold the handrail on the way downstairs.]
While I don’t expect I’ll ever say, I love working out!, I do walk away feeling exhausted proud of myself.
So for that reason, I can say I love Gym.
Even though he kicks my butt.
iWrite
My depression seems to have kidnapped my passion.
Right now it feels impossible to dream big or plan ahead. Most of what used to excite me isn’t stirring me or making my heart leap anymore. At least not like they used to.
But one passion has remained. It’s flickering like a candle near an open window, but it’s still there.
I love to write.
Writing helps me process my own thoughts. It’s therapeutic. Cathartic. My scribbled notes in my Moleskine, unpolished and unkempt, tell me my heart’s still beating. My Gritty thoughts sent out through the cyberwaves remind me I still have something from Him to offer.
Despite the fog that envelops me, I still love to write. And the significance of that isn’t lost on me.
Pay attention to dreams that don’t die.
I’m trying to pay attention. And keep writing. Even when it’s all I’m able to do in a day.
So while I wait for the ransom to be paid on my other passions, I’ll guard what He gave me and use it for His glory.
And I’ll trust that—somehow—He’ll use it for my healing.
undone
I’ve written less emails in the past month than I used to write in a single day.
You gotta understand something about me: I’m a doer. I manage to get stacks of things done in a day. I figure out ways to tackle the to-do lists and push through the projects, even under tight deadlines. I know how to work my tail off when I need to. And even when I don’t.
At least I used to anyway.
Right now, I simply don’t have it in me.
My days are fairly empty, so I find myself with more time on my hands than ever before. But what I’ve gained in time, I lack in motivation, energy, and concentration. And one result is an overflowing inbox.
It’s difficult for me to reach out right now. I feel unable to be the kind of friend I used to be and want to be—the kind of friend you deserve.
If you’re one of the many who’ve emailed me but haven’t heard back yet: I’m sorry for making you feel unimportant to me. I’m sorry I haven’t explained until now.
Your emails aren’t burdensome. My inbox is filled with reminders that I’m loved! So please don’t hear this as a request to stop writing.
I guess it’s just a request for patience. And understanding.
Because while I’m struggling to show it well right now, I still love and care deeply.
Even when I don’t answer your email.
