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What to do while you wait

/ Jaimie / 6 Comments
Photo Credit: Reuters

Photo Credit: Reuters

The thing about being in the Potter’s hands (Jeremiah 18, Isaiah 45) is that we don’t always know what he’s forming us into. Sometimes it might even seem like we’re sitting on a shelf and waiting until He’s ready to do something with us. Isaiah 45 taught us not to argue with the Potter about the final outcome, but what should we do while we wait?

In I Kings 19, God tells Elijah to go anoint Elisha as prophet in his place. God has a mighty purpose for Elisha. We have the benefit of being able to read the whole story so we know that Elisha will do mighty works for the Kingdom of God. God will use him to perform miracles, obliterate wickedness, speak the word of the Lord. His ministry will be great.

I’m sure Elisha knew God had called him too, even before that day when Elijah showed up. He was quick to recognize the mantle and anointing of Elijah and follow him when he called. He didn’t just follow him, he gave EVERYTHING to follow him. That shows me that he was already following the Lord with his whole heart. He was waiting for instructions and activation in his ministry. God was faithful to give it.

waiting

But what was he doing while he waited?

I Kings 19:19 “He was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen, and he himself was driving the twelfth pair.”

When Elijah found him, he was plowing the field, tilling the soil, planting seed. He was already using what he had to make something.

When it feels like you are waiting around for life to start, for God to use you to do something big, why don’t you use what you have in your hand to make something beautiful. Start plowing. Plant a seed. Speak words of life to those around you. Be a smile to a hurting heart. Be a willing ear to someone who needs to let it all out. Help carry someone else’s burden. Pray with a neighbor. Talk to a stranger. What’s in your hand? What can you do now?

hands

Don’t wait around for something big to happen, start spreading life NOW. The big things will come but even if they don’t, your life is about right now. Today always impacts tomorrow so spend it wisely. Make like Elisha and grab a plow!

 

Signs, Confusion and Forever

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I confess, I’ve been known to take a shortcut or two. Time is a precious commodity in my life. Somehow, I’m convinced that I have less of it than most people, so occasionally, I improvise. Usually, it gets the job done so I don’t sweat the small stuff.

Still, there are suggested uses provided by manufacturers for a reason. This becomes apparent when I grab my favorite sweater out of the dryer only to realize it now needs to be passed down to an 8-year-old since it was intended to dry flat. Just like that, it’s gone.

Tag

I must also confess that I’ve never taken the time to figure those dumb laundry labels out. When I do take the time to read the label, I’m greeted with Pictionary instead of language. I know I could easily look up their meanings, but ‘ain’t nobody got time for that’. So I guess and just wing it. It’s usually just fine, but not always…

But maybe the world operates on symbols and not just words. I get it in some cases. Road signs could become very tedious if we clearly spelled out the meaning on everyone. How many accidents would be blamed on “I was trying to read the sign”? Some things you just have to make an effort to learn. sign

I haven’t decided which category marriage falls into yet. Sometimes I find myself trying to decode the symbols and I just know I’m shrinking a sweater. I wish we could just find a way to clearly spell it all out so there would never be any confusion. Yet, there’s a lot of wisdom in NOT saying everything that pops into your head in the heat of argument. 

So maybe it’s just part of the adventure. There’s an art to marital communication. It’s a blend of language and charades, verbal and non-verbal, argue and make up.

Sure, I’m going to mess up A LOT, but you better believe I’m going to keep trying. I may be far from perfect, but forever is always worth the effort.

Tranny Slip Blues

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Twelve

Twelve

I’m all in and I’m not here at the same time

Divided and conquered by complacency

I’m willing and driven but my ‘tranny’* has stalled

when I should be moving forward I find myself slippin’

The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak

There’s so much to be done but my brain’s asleep

Oh Lord, let my love for you be my motivation

Be my strength today while I keep pumping the gas

Eventually, it will all kick in and I’ll be off and running again

Until then, I’ll just keep going

*Notes and explanation for those of you who drive vehicles that actually work properly. “Tranny” is what my fixer-upper family has always called the transmission in a vehicle. I’m not sure if you’ve ever had your tranny slip, but it sometimes feels like this: you hit the gas, get half way through the intersection and it just won’t accelerate anymore. If you pump it enough, it may kick in and then you jerk forward and take off and sometimes this happens repeatedly before you can really go anywhere. You listen to the engine rev but you’re not moving. It’s not fun! I’m thankful to say this hasn’t happened to me in quite sometime. We had one vehicle awhile back (affectionately named “Burt, the van of Destiny”) that did this for a long time before we finally broke down (no pun intended) and got a new transmission.

I sometimes have days where I feel like good ol’ Burt. My “get up and go” just doesn’t want to “get up and go” though I have the best of intentions. I’m sure lack of sleep or lack of coffee are contributors to this phenomenon. Either way, I’m hoping God will rejuvenate my giddy-up and infuse me with a little strength to accomplish great things today. In the meantime, I plan to just keep moving. One little thing at a time.

Clarity

Who are you?

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Psalm 40

 

I heard someone say once that our stories define us. I couldn’t disagree more. Our stories contribute to our worldview. Our stories can impact or influence our actions and attitudes. They give us wisdom and sometimes strength. Sometimes we allow them to make us bitter. Still, only one thing can define us.

We are defined by the word of God and the one who created us. His thoughts about us outnumber the sands of the sea. He sees his children as whole, complete and captivating.

I choose to be defined by him and him alone.

Busy

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Chaos

I have no time to write today

The busy fairies have carried me away

I’ll see you on the other side

If the busy fairies bring me back alive

My Own Private Jungle

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IMG_1211

It’s been a whirlwind of a week. School’s back in session. The big kids started last Monday while the littlest guy comes to work everyday with me. I’ve been back at work for several weeks now since having the baby. Honestly, I didn’t really take a maternity leave at all. I stayed away from the office for about a week and a half, all the while answering calls and questions from home, then packed baby man up and headed in. I’m so thankful that having the baby with me at work is an option. I realize that I am blessed abundantly!

Still, I’d cut back on my hours of actual office time. I’ve been working from home a little more and also reminding myself that the world will not end if I don’t accomplish everything in one day. For some reason when school started on Monday, it felt like my (imagined) maternity leave was over. My hectic schedule is back in full swing. I’m busy with backpacks and lunch boxes and drop off and pick up. Now I’ve got diaper bags and feeding schedules and an infant screaming in car-rider line added to the mix. I know many of you can relate to this.

Let’s face it, life can get a bit chaotic from time to time. Yet, somehow in the midst of this, we are expected to dig deep and pull out the gifts within us and do something great with them. For years, I shelved most of my writing. I didn’t bother sharing many of my original songs because I knew I wouldn’t have time to invest in finishing them and performing them. I allowed the chaos to overtake me.

Thankfully I’ve learned that the only way I can truly live is to dig deep. All those things I shelved for later are the very things that bring me peace today. A life of order and balance includes our passions. If we don’t allow our passions the fuel and air they need, we will suffocate beneath the weight of the mundane.

This week, in the midst of the hectic, I took a few seconds to breathe, to write, to pray, to snap a picture or two in the yard. I am alive and free. Don’t let the jungle swallow your soul. Let your soul be the soil for beauty to flourish.

IMG_1207 IMG_1218 IMG_1219

Random Beauty – Grace

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Into the Deep

We’ve had a lot of rain over the past month here in Southwest Florida. The ground is saturated and consequently when more rain comes, we flood. The odd thing is that most of our street is high and dry, but our yard is a swamp. It’s inconvenient in a lot of ways. We can’t mow certain areas so the wild is overtaking the manicured. Bugs are invading the house more than normal.

If you’ve never visited South Florida, I can tell you that it is an education in strange bugs and arachnids. We have some mega spiders and odd-looking creepy crawlers. Most of these don’t bother us a bit, but I have to admit that spiders the size of my hand appearing in the bedroom (as a general rule) do not inspire happy thoughts in me.

I warn my son daily to be on the lookout for snakes and gators when he’s playing in the yard. Living by a canal, we usually look out for these anyway, but with the extra water, comes extra cottonmouths and you never know when and where a snake will pop up as we learned earlier this year (The Snake in the House).

Despite all of this, I’ve been intrigued by the water. It’s random beauty standing out from the otherwise consistent. The fact that it’s just our yard strikes me as well. It’s like God sending a little beauty just for us, washing us with the water, changing the landscape. Sure, problems sometimes come with the beauty. God never promised us a life of roses and relaxation. The greatest character is built through the storms and the chaos. In the midst of these, we learn to trust him and find the wonder. In that, he is glorified and we are changed a little more into his image.

I pray I always find the wonder in the midst of the flood, that I find the beauty in the chaos, that I look for the ways he’s romancing me and reminding me of his love. Nothing he does is haphazard.  He paints the skies with us in mind. He plants flowers to amaze us. He smiles at us in the midst of the brokenness, wraps us up in his love and inspires us to be completely his. There is truly nothing better than that.

Swamp

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/17/daily-prompt-haphazard/

A Note to my Future Self on Thankfulness

/ Jaimie / 9 Comments
Morning view from my back porch

Morning view from my back porch

This morning I wasn’t myself. Don’t ask me who I was…just someone different.

All the things on my mind were hazy under the fog still attached to me from lack of sleep. Ambitions for coming endeavors sat numb on my tongue. Words came out but didn’t really connect with my brain. I told the Lord I really had nothing to say. No inspiration was moving my spirit to action.

In that soft and loving way He sometimes speaks, I heard him say, “How about saying thank you?” Then baby man smiled at me and I remembered stopping to watch the way the light slowly illuminated the backyard with the dawn as I walked by the window. I remembered the rise and blend of colors in the sunrise as it peeked over the trees. I thanked Him. I am so blessed!

Days come when I struggle to muster up words, divine things to move big mountains, revelations to bend will into submission to spirit. I try to inspire and encourage others and myself with grandeur, love and perspective. Maybe everything would fall into place if I woke up tomorrow and remembered to thank Him.

I write this now when things are good to remind myself on days when life seems ‘not so good’.  His faithfulness is never dictated by my circumstances. Future self, remember to give thanks in everything!

 

Doing dishes is a waste of time. They just grow back!

/ Jaimie / 9 Comments

CleanI’ve decided that doing dishes is a waste of time. They just grow back! Especially in my house with teenagers and their smaller siblings running rampant. They hide in dark corners and conspire about how to get yet ANOTHER cup when my back is turned. And it doesn’t help that the older ones have learned to cook. I come home from work to find that they’ve become creative gourmets without the aid of a full-time dishwasher. Granted, they are old enough that I can pull the “I’m the mom and YOU can do the dishes” card. But still, the reality exists that there are always dirty dishes around no matter how many times we wash them.

Suds

 

Life is like that. We do the same things over and over. We sleep, we wake, we eat, we read our Bibles, say our prayers, work, talk to friends, drive the same roads, cuddle with our kids, laugh, eat again, pay the bills, empty the pantry, go to the grocery store, come back home, lather, rinse, repeat…and it’s wonderful. Somehow, in the midst of the sameness, there’s always an adventure. There’s joy and comfort. We humans like consistency after all.

Our spiritual lives echo this pattern. We die to ourselves daily (1 Cor. 15:31). We read the same Bible over and over and never even begin to exhaust its bounty. We pray daily and it continues to refresh and revive us. We “repent and do the first works” (Rev. 2:5) um, more than once. The cool thing is that no matter how many times we blow it and dirty things up, there’s always a dishwasher. His grace is sufficient for me! (2 Cor. 12:9)

Dishwasher

 

Okay, maybe doing dishes isn’t such a waste of time after all.

Behind the Broken Glass

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Crack in the window

I’m standing in a room alone. It’s dark, foggy, shadowy and gray. Before me, a mirror stands singularly. It’s the centerpiece of the room. It’s as if my presence there is more triviality than importance. Everything revolves around this monument of reflective glass. It haunts me.

Though it has no voice, I can almost hear it calling me into its solitary world. The room begins to spin. I hear jeers and laughter. Whispers from the past combine into dissonant noise that surrounds me, spinning, spiraling with noxious intent. They wrap me up and I find myself face to face with this fragile monster and I allow myself to look deeply.

The image before me is clear at first, just plain ol’ me with my pale, freckled skin, sharp features, ordinary hair, small, uneventful eyes, thin lips. As I stare, the image begins to change before me. From my perspective, it’s as if it’s zooming in and becoming clearer. It feels as though I’m really seeing myself for the first time. Every line, dimple and extra pound expands. I never realized how much weight I’d really accumulated with my last pregnancy. I’d never realized how pallid and sallow looking my skin had become. My long, natural hair used to be beautiful and flowing. I always thought it was lovely. Now it looks stringy, unkempt and dull. I feel as if there should be a law about letting oneself look like this. What have I allowed myself to become?  Corners

From the other side, I see this whole scene unfold. Suddenly, I’m an outside observer watching the event as if it were a movie playing in 3D. I still feel everything but reality is with me and I am aware.

As she stands before the mirror the glass shifts and shakes, contorting slowly, imperceptibly to her. Cracks and jagged, broken edges jut out in various places causing her reflection to look more like something she might see in a fun house mirror than true form.

I’m standing behind the broken glass watching her weary face, hearing her thoughts as she contemplates her new diet and exercise program (which will start TOMORROW). I feel her shame. She wants to hide, to blend in with the crowd just outside this room and pray they don’t see her at all. If she can avoid being seen until she fixes everything wrong with her, maybe she’ll be okay. Maybe the monster will release her from this prison. But some things she can’t change. What then?

From behind the broken glass, I see her. I see who she really is. She is beautiful. I see her dignity, her faith, her strength, the sparkle in her eye, the grace in her smile. She is so much more than the lies the mirror keeps telling her.

WindowI reach through the glass with both hands wide. I call to her. I take her hand and help her through to the other side.

Suddenly, the room is clear. The fog and gray are now light and clarity. I open my eyes, whole. I am home. I can still feel the glass like a distant presence. I know it’s there. I know it will fight to pull me in again but I am no longer afraid. I know now it’s broken. It has no hold on me.

Now I will look for it. When I see it appear, maybe I can have the opportunity to reach through and help another captured soul through to the other side. Behind the broken glass there is a world of freedom.