It's May 22nd...

and the world is still here.
No rapture. Not that I was expecting it at 6pm as Mr Harold Camping predicted.
The world didnt end; but someone's world ended today.
Someone died today.
Actually about 154,138 someones died today. Their world ended. Were they ready?
So maybe like me you weren't looking for Christ to return at 6pm, but are you looking for Him to return?
He's coming back.
Not at 6pm on May 21 2001, but maybe May 22,2011. Or maybe it wont be for another 100 years.
We dont know when, but it will happen.
Ready or not. He's coming.

I have not yet begun to fight...

His name was John Paul
He had two first names - that always intrigues me
He was born in Scotland
There is something I love about the Scottish brogue
He deserted the slave trade industry because it disgusted him
He didn't let the money mold his morals
When a case of yellow fever claimed the lives of both the ship captain & the second in command, he stepped up.
He took on the responsibility.
Somewhere along the way, he added a last name of Jones.

And although the above things would give me plenty of reason to think he's pretty cool, that is not what I like about him.

But despite the good, the bad or the ugly, we remember him for something else.

"I have not yet begun to fight"

These words were said in the midst of battle when a British sailor was taunting him to surrender.

Those words I decided need to be my creed. So many people; me as well. We fight, but not for the right things. 

We fight 

-out of selfishness. 

-because we think our way is right & their way is wrong.

-to hide the fact that we are really fighting ourselves

-just for the sake of fighting

But I want to fight

-for relationships

-against injustice

-for the lost soul

-against the power of Satan

-for the person who has no voice

-for what is right.

When everyone else thinks it would be reasonable to give up. I want to say "I have not yet begun to fight" When all within us & without is begging us to give up, taunting us that it's not worth it; I want to fight. And I want to fight strong. Never giving up. Not being content to sit back when the there is a fight worth fighting. But to be there full force. Fighting for the right thing, fighting against self.

Windshield Wiper Judgeyness

So, I realize this is the internet, & I'm about to share this with the world, but I think I'm OK with that.
I have this fear of judgment that I am met with every time it rains. It is one of my insecurities that I am working through.

Every time I go away when it rains I am faced with how fast to run my windshield wipers. If I run them too slow, I can't see, but if I run them faster I always wonder if people look at me like I'm some obsessively crazed windshield wiper maniac.
I think I care more what other people think of me when I'm driving than I do at any other time. I distinctly remember a rainy day about 1 1/2 years ago. My car was in the shop for a face-lift, and the rental I had was a Mazda 5.

                             Now for those of you, who haven't a clue what a vehicle is
                             unless you own it or aspire to own it; A Mazda 5 is a cross
                             between a very long car and a very short mini van. You
                             know you have "toy" poodles? This is a "toy" mini van.

Well, it was on that rainy day that I was at a red light & realized that this van has a windshield wiper for the back window. I promptly turned it on, & after a lengthy giggle fit, turned it back off wondering if it looks as much like a dog wagging it's tail to the people in line behind me, as it did to me.

As I said, I am working through it. I have reached the point that I can now see that the reason I feel judged is because I "Windshield wiper judge" others that are on the road.  You know... there is always that one person coming the other way in a light sprinkling of rain that has their wipers going to the beat of Flight of the Bumblebee.

Like I said...I'm working on it. Lucky for me It's not raining today. It will be a judge free drive home :)

Sometimes...

Sometimes I wish I could go back...
*To the days when my friends & I could entertain ourselves for several hours at walmart & leave without buying anything but gum.
*To the days when we bought cakes to celebrate Friday nights off.
*To the days where we tried to see how many girls fit in a bus bathroom...and a telephone booth.
*To the days where the setting summer sun only marked the beginning of a wonderful time.
*To the days of driving to roxburry listening to Rogers & Hammerstein soundtrack of Sound of Music, & pretending our stuffed animals were being stalked
*To the days of CD Players & large headphones with lots of splitters so we could all listen to the music together.
*To the days we (mostly me) would stand defiantly with my face in the wind. (I vaguely think this had something to do with lyrics from a song...maybe from Paul Overstreet or Midsouth?)
*To the days of corny inside jokes that sent us into gales of laughter. Inside jokes that don't even mean anything anymore.
*To the days when we passed Cd's around like prized possessions - cause they were.
*To the days of 6 girls sleeping sideways on a bed just so we could room together at the cabin.
*To the days where we talked & laughed till we cried...
*To the days where the best thing was a new roll of film & time with my friends.

Sometimes I wish I could go back...But only sometimes.

*Disclaimer: This post has a judgement free zone wrapped around it....I realize one or more of these memories may display things that are no longer a part of my character :)

Hope...

You know those moments that are just ordinary, & all the sudden, that ordinary moment turns into a moment of utter clarity. It can be a phrase, a song, or just a insignificant greeting card saying. But at that moment it speeks so deeply into your life & to your particular place in life, that you will simply remember it for the rest of your life.

I'm sure if I would think for a little I could come up with many instances, but there are a few that come to mind immediately. And alot of them have to do with songs.
I'm a words girl. I read, I write, I talk. Words do it for me. So, songs do it for me. Lyrics can be so powerful. Words are powerful.

It's been about a year. We went to a Casting Crowns concert. It was kinda a last minute thing. We had other plans, but when the opportunity came up, we took it. Our seats were in the very top row at the Giant Center. As far away from the stage as you could be without being outside or on the roof. But it was monumental.
At the time, I was struggling with alot of questions. The carpet had been ripped out from under me, and I felt like my world was a snow globe being shaken by an over-exuberant 2 year old. I thought I had been dealing with my "issues". But it's funny how they can come back up with no warning.
Especially when someone else puts your feelings into words in the form of a song.
When CC sang Praise you in this storm everyone starts singing along, and as the lyrics were up there on the jumbotron, I realized for the first time that the lyrics were praise you in this storm, not the storm, and that was the first chip at my heart. Cause I was in a very real storm to me, and to sing that I will Praise God in the midst of the storm, was alot different than telling God that I would praise Him in this storm. The song starts with these words.
      I was sure by now That You would have reached down
      And wiped our tears away, stepped in and saved the day
That was exactly what I was feeling. In all honesty I think I may have been a bit angry at God. I know, how un-Christian right? I was angry about injustice. I was angry that the power of my words were  being demeened & nullified. I was angry that God wasnt stepping in & saving the day. I was feeling trapped in a situation that was out. of.  my.  control.
     I remember when I stumbled in the windYou heard my cry,You raised me up again
    But my strength is almost gone How can I carry on if I can't find You
I was having a very hard time finding God in the midst of my struggles. Oh there were many times in my life I could look back & see how God was at work in my life. How He had made things work out. But in my state that day, I couldn't see it. I was fighting for all I was worth. I was seeking truth. But I was being met with brick walls. I was drained. And in my human mind I could not see how God - a God of truth, justice, love, mercy, & hope- could be found in my situation.
   I'll praise You in this storm and I will lift my hands

   For You are who You are no matter where I am
   And every tear I've cried You hold in Your hand
   You never left my side and though my heart is torn
   I will praise You in this storm
It was that moment in the darkenss of the nosebleed section at a Casting Crowns concert that I hadn't even planned to be at. God was there & Hope was restored. Hope in the future. hope that the injustice would end. Hope that I would not be in this storm for the rest of my life. Granted it wasn't over. But there was the final realization that this is not all that God has in store for me. And...that He wasn't going anywhere.

As I said, it's been a year. A year of growth, & a year of realizing just how great my God is. Not great as in "that was a great sunset" but great in the way that He is my Strong Tower, my Shelter in the Storm. My Defender, my Abba.

The love of money...

Is some days the root of much amusement. :)

It all started back on a cold day in late December.
C called me on his way home from work. He needed to make a stop to check on a friends elderly mother who after taking some pills began to feel ill. Friend called C since he is an EMT to see if he could check up on her since he (friend) was about an hour from home.
So... C did. She was fine, just happened to take them on an empty stomach.
About a week later, we got a little envelope in our mailbox. In little old lady handwriting, it was addressed to C. It held a sincere thank-you note, and a $20 bill. While it was unnecessary, & certainly unexpected, C hung on to that $20 like gold.
                 
                   See, before C & I  got together he paid cash for
                   simply everything. Me not so much. My Debit  Card
                   was my sidekick, & the two of us got along like very
                   old friends.
                   After we got married, by default I became the keeper
                   of the checkbook. Perhaps because C's way of balancing
                   his account was "withdraw cash, look at balance on
                   receipt" :)
                  Once we got settled into our budget, we talked of doing
                   a monthly spending allowance. You know, for the snack
                   thing at work, or in C's case a soda every now & then.
                   Time goes on, and the whole allowance thing kinda fell
                   by the wayside.

All that brings us to last night. I'm laying in bed, & see C frantically digging through his work pants pockets, moving stuff around at the head of the bed, trying to look down between the wall & the mattress. Suddenly he gives me an accusing look & says "Did you take me dollar?"
At that point I cracked up laughing. Like that was going to help my case for innocence....I finally convinced him I did not take it from him, & it probably came out of his pocket somewhere & is lost.
The dear lost dollar was the last of his $20. He gave me a sad look, and we went to sleep.  I fell asleep thinking that perhaps I am depriving my husband a little too much if he is getting sad over $1.
Then this morning, in the murky blurry eyed moments before I was completely awake, I see a folded dollar held up in front of my nose & an excited-because-it's-Christmas kind of voice say....I found my dollar! 

And that my friends is the man I love :)

Not only is it Monday...

You would think that the fact that it is Monday would be enough. Sometimes I feel bad for Monday because I think it gets an undeserving bad rap, but not this Monday. No this Monday is totally deserving!
So anyone that has known me for any amount of time, knows that since the day I understood what sleeping in meant, - I love it. So these mornings in the dark season of winter are not my best friend.
But this particular morning, I awoke to my husband being a particularly extreme brand of funny. Not that I was all that amused in my half-wakened state, but that is neither here nor there. I crawled out of bed, glowered at the not so early morning darkness, & prepared to take on the day. I ate a semi-healthy breakfast, packed my lunch, got dressed of course, and headed to work. That is when it all started downhill. Which would be fine if I lived uphill from work........ I dont.
The first thing was the fact that the streetlights were still on. Streetlights = Darkness, Darkness= Night, Night = should not be on the way to work! Even after that though, I was still okay.
Then I reached the local high school.
Two minutes away from work, with 2 minutes to spare.
A little man in a reflective yellow jacket. (Little as in short, not in character I'm sure, but then again I do question it after his actions.)
His job title is crossing guard. He walked out into the middle of the road. He's allowed to do that.
The problem this morning as has happened several other mornings, is that he stops traffic (traffic that is on their way to work) to allow all 150 buses to pull out & go on their merry way. I sat in my car & said "this is so stupid! stupid! stupid! stupid!" until the word stupid itself sounded stupid. (it's looking a little stupid now too) Not only is it annoying because I'm still trying to get to work while their work is done (for the moment) but the school also has an entrance/exit that leads to a road that leads to a traffic light that intersects with the road that they are pulling out onto! (follow all that)
Anyway, nothing to wake you up on a Monday morning, than to get you blood bubbling! (it wasn't quite a rolling boil)