four-minute friday: light and fluffy
Go.
I wanted to four-minute about something light and fluffy. Mostly because I’m wiped out and don’t have energy for anything of substance. Besides, it’s Friday! We can all do with some extra light and fluffy in our day.
But all I keep hearing in my head is the little girl on “Despicable Me”: “It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!”
Have you seen it yet? It’s cute. And 3-D. And that whole fluffy-unicorn bit is hilarious. Seriously. Watch the clip. You’ll find yourself repeating “It’s so fluffy!” in that creepy funny voice of hers.
Cracks me up every single time!
Anyway… Clearly in need of blogging assistance, I sent out a tweet asking for light and fluffy post ideas. What did I get back?
Marshmallows. Angel food cake. Cotton candy. Whip cream.
Y’all are one hungry bunch. You fit right in around here! Ha.
So now we ended up with four minutes of basically nothing. Just like how cotton candy melts away into nothingness in your mouth. Minus the sugar high.
Oh geez. This is going downhill fast.
Calling it quits. And calling on you to tell me something light and fluffy…
Ready? Go!
Done.
it’s time for a check-up
Isn’t it crazy to think that 2010 is more than half over? Seven months gone; only five months left. Time to take stock. Focus. Realign as needed.
I wonder how many of you have been working toward your one-word goal.
Actually, I wonder how many of you even remember your one-word goal.
(Go back to the comments here and here if you need a reminder…)
Mine is risk.
In all honesty and fairness, while I’ve tried to stay focused on risking more this year, there are entire days weeks that go by when I don’t even think about it.
I don’t usually wake up wanting to risk that day. This isn’t one of those things that gets easier the more you do it. Every single time is hard.
But still… I continue to challenge myself to risk.
When faced with a decision or a situation, I can’t help but think… RISK! It has caused me to do things like have hard conversations, spend time with challenging people, do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do, hit publish on especially-vulnerable blog posts.
I should be keeping a “risk list” somewhere… because sitting here now, I’m having a hard time thinking of all the specific ways I’ve risked. Even though I know have. I blame it on my Fuzzy Brain Syndrome. So, starting right now… I’m keeping a “risk list.” Somebody ask me in a couple weeks to make sure I’m still doing it, k?
What about you?
Are you still focusing on your… focus? Are you regularly doing what you set out to do with your one-word goal?
Maybe you weren’t around The Grit in January and didn’t pick a word for your year. It’s not too late to start. Choose a single word to focus on for the remaining five months of 2010.
Let’s finish this year with intentionality.
it all comes down to this
I’ve gotta be honest. I was blown away by how many of you related with my friendship insecurities. Isn’t it crazy how alone we can feel in certain things, only to discover we are all more alike than different?
As I kept thinking about it all, I realized something.
Relationships are stewardships.
They are gifts. Loans, really…
I am given them to safeguard. To nurture. To cherish.
And while I am responsible for how I handle my relationships, they are not mine to keep or control. More importantly, the people in my life are not mine to keep or control.
Ever.
When I hold a person too tightly, I begin to squeeze the life out of them and our friendship.
Just like everything else I’m entrusted with, I am called to hold my relationships loosely.
I don’t mean carelessly, or with lack of regard. I mean with an open hand rather than a tight fist.
I mean living in the awareness that none of this begins or ends with me.
We are all His. And the relationships I have are because He has orchestrated them. I want to love my friends like I know that to be true.
So going toe-to-toe with my insecurity isn’t so much about trusting others more.
It’s about trusting Him more.
i’m that insecure
I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only one who struggles with this—or maybe it’s just that I hope I’m not—so I figured I’d blog it out. Fingers crossed that many of you someone can relate.
I love networking. Although, honestly, I hate that word. Sounds so business-y. And professional. So let me rephrase.
I love connecting people with other like-hearted people.
I’m energized seeing new friendships and ministry partnerships flourish. It’s incredible to watch those I love, value, and enjoy get to know others I love, value, and enjoy. There’s something wildly exciting about it.
But, at times, there’s also something very scary about it.
If I’m being most honest, I often feel threatened when I introduce friends to each other.
I think immature, stupid things like,
“I hate feeling left out…”
“She’s probably gonna end up liking her more than she likes me.”
“What if they get really close and cut me out entirely?”
Yes. I’m that insecure.
Without even being conscious of it, it causes a flare-up of fear somewhere deep inside me: I’m easily replaceable. I’m more leavable than lovable. I’m not enough.
I don’t really know how to combat that except to continue to connect people anyway. What do I always say? I do it afraid? Yeah, I guess that applies here. I do it afraid.
But I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
I don’t want to live shackled to that insecurity. I want to walk confidently and securely, rooted in who I am. Or rather, rooted in who He is.
So I’m working on renewing my mind and replacing the lies with His truth. And with the power of public confession, I’m exposing the darkness in my heart, letting His light illuminate and transform it in the way only He can.
And now the hard part of real change begins.
Because saying “I’m working on it” isn’t enough. I’ve got to actually do something about it.
Gulp.
a day like this
Ever have a day force itself on you like an unwanted telemarketer?
Today is one of those days.
It’s unavoidable really. Maybe in a few years it will slip by, barely noticed… but even that’s not likely. The jarring interruption, how it causes my breath to catch in my throat… that will eventually subside. But I will always remember.
How could I not?
We celebrated his birthday together for 11 years.
This is the second one apart.
And I can’t help but be painfully aware today of all I’ve lost… all I grieve… all I miss. It’s everywhere. All around me. All inside me. Constant.
Yet… it isn’t as sharp as last year. It doesn’t linger like it did. It doesn’t ache quite so deeply. And for that I am grateful.
It’s only in these mile markers that I even notice my own heart’s progress. It’s nearly impossible to see as the mountains and valleys of my journey rise and fall day to day.
The process of putting one foot in front of the other looks blurringly the same. Step… step… step…
But today I have a glimpse of a signpost from a year ago. And mixed in with the bittersweetness of the day is a strange sigh of relief. Dare I call it hope? I don’t know… Ask me in a few hours…
This much I know is true: There is both a joy and sadness in remembering.
And I’m okay with that.
other than world peace
Finish this line:
If I had one wish, I’d wish for…
roots and wings
I love my wings.
I really enjoy traveling. It’s a good thing, since I do so much of it. I love the newness, the adventure, the constant change. I enjoy experiencing the new and the different, discovering things I’ve always wanted to see and things I didn’t even know existed.
There is nothing in the world like stepping into the unfamiliar, unknown, unpredictable, and unexpected. It makes my heart come alive.
Most of all, I love people. It is such a gift to be constantly meeting new people and spending cherished moments with friends. Experiencing other people’s worlds means embracing new rhythms of life, and I learn so much from all that is different than me.
I value my heart’s desire for change.
I also love my roots.
I crave security and stability. At times, the humdrum of routine is the sweetest sound I know. There is comfort in the known and the familiar, joy in the predictable. Going to bed after a day that looked exactly as expected makes for some sweet contentment.
I’m grateful for the sense of belonging that comes with home. It is a beautiful thing to have a space in life that’s carved out with my exact shape—the warm hug of that perfect fit is absolutely matchless.
Being in one place long enough to be missed when I’m gone makes my heart exhale. I love being with those rare people who feel like home to me—who know what I’m thinking before I say it, who can read my slightest facial expression, who just plain “get” me, no explanation needed.
I value my heart’s desire for same.
I live in the tension between my wings and roots.
At times it’s exhausting… at others, exhilarating. When I’ve had one for too long, I start yearning for the other. All change with no same makes me just as restless as all same with no change.
And I’m feeling restless now.
The past 19 months have been nothing but change. My heart longs for steady. Predictable. Certainty. I want some surety under my feet. My wings are tired.
So I’m trying to create pockets of same in the midst of all the change. Little bits of routine. Tiny fragments of consistency. I need to find some more creative ways to do that…
Cause after all, a girl can have both wings and roots, right?!
Right.
Are you more of a wings or roots person?
Any thoughts on how I can create some “same” in my
very unpredictable life right now?
i’ve had enough
I’m still camping out in the story of Elijah. Maybe because I see so much of myself in him. Not in his prophetic voice or powerful miracles, but in his crash-and-burn.
Remember his showdown with the prophets of Baal? God showed up in a huge way, making it very obvious that He is the one true God and that Elijah is His. If ever Elijah was on a spiritual high, this was it.
And then he crashed and burned.
When Jezebel made threats against his life, Elijah forgot about the great victory God just brought him. He collapsed to the ground in despair, raised his eyes to the heavens, and shouted, “I have had enough, Lord. Take my life!”
Been there? I have. Plenty of times.
I can move from victory to defeat in an instant. It all rushes in and I feel like I just can’t take anymore.
I gotta admit, I’m kind of relieved I’m not the only one with irrational mood swings, desperate prayers for God to take me, and the overwhelming sense of “I’ve had enough!”
At least I have this one thing in common with Elijah.
The story goes on and I’m intrigued by all that happens next, because it shows how he dealt with his funk. And I need to know how to deal with mine. [If you want to read through it later, it's in 1 Kings 19:1-13.]
Elijah slept. A lot. I know I need rest, although I often feel guilty over making that need a priority.
An angel provided bread and water for him. I’m taking stock of God’s provision of those people, places, and things that refresh and revive me from the inside out. I need to surround myself with them more often than I do.
He slept, ate, and drank. Again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Just once isn’t enough.
“Nourished by that meal, he walked forty days and nights, all the way to the mountain of God.” Ejlijah was still in his funk, but he walked on. I need to simply keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when my heart says “I’ve had enough” with every single step.
“When he got there, he crawled into a cave and went to sleep.” God knew I’d need to hear this again! Slowly getting the message…
He encountered the still, small voice of God. One by one a wind, earthquake, and fire ripped through the mountain. But God was not in them. “And after the fire came a gentle whisper…” Those quiet words were more powerful in Elijah’s heart than any mighty prophecy God had spoken through him.
At the end of the day, God reaches through my funk and with His peaceful, gentle voice, reassures my heart that He is trustworthy.
He lovingly reminds me that He is in control. That His grace is sufficient. And that He gives strength to the weary.
His more-than-enough-ness makes up for my had-enough-ness.
Over and over again.
even in the storm
My heart feels stormy.
The violently churning waves of past, present, and future are making me seasick. The loud, thunderous rumbles of my thoughts cause my heart to skip a beat. Lightning bolts of reality crash through my moments, lighting everything up and making them feel frighteningly worse all in the same moment.
It’s a lie that lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice.
Because hope has been shattered far more than once. The black, ashy scars are proof.
I’m trying to trust. I really am. I want my heart to feel securely anchored in Him, even when the waves are crashing over me and it’s so dark that I can’t see my hand in front of my face. But usually I’m too busy gasping for air, flailing my arms, and being tossed about in the huge swells.
I can’t even really swim… And I’m worn out from my pathetic attempts at doggy-paddling.
I’m praying today for my heart to rest in the assurance that He is trustworthy. And in the firm belief that no matter what happens… He is good.
Even in the storm.
with thanks
I wouldn’t object to the revolving door of my life getting stuck here in Iowa.
This New Yorker never thought she’d say something like that in her lifetime, but… it’s true. I don’t want to leave. Because I am so not ready to say goodbye to Sara.
Despite the circumstances that brought me here, it has been such a joy to be with her this past week. In the heaviest of moments as much as the punch-drunk late night madness, it was a gift to be with my dear friend.
I know this much is true: I benefited far more than she did. I’m leaving fuller… richer. I’m leaving as a better me than when I came. Good friends have that effect on us, don’t they?
I want to be that kind of friend.
I want to love hard. Forgive quickly. Choose joy. I want to risk big. Grow daily. Drip grace. I want to savor sunshine. Live grateful. Model Christ.
As I leave, I am determined to pay more attention to the fine details of my life… of my days. I will look closely for the blessings that lie in each moment.
And I will thank Him a whole lot more.
I’d love to hear what you are thankful for,
right this very moment.
