When did the world stop making noise?
It screams from the rooftops but I don’t think I can hear it anymore
The sound of my head has blocked the overwhelming.
Survival
I am me. I am struggling. I am alive. I will live another day.
There is life when the grass dies.
There is truth, among the pain.
Lean in.
Learn.
Tomorrow is the greatest gift we have.
Don’t waste it.
The 40’s have been good to me…overall. Despite, the crazy weight gain and hormones going crazy and the stress of my personal life (a story for another day). I’ve gained weight, lost weight. Adjusted to the new “normal” and feel, overall, comfortable, in my new skin. For the most part…
Then today, I wore a pair of pants I’ve worn a million times. Yet, in the eerie, quiet, of my office, I realized that every time I walk, my pants make noise. You know that “thigh rub serenade” that accompanies movement in the realm of the real? I don’t know why I never noticed before. Up until 40, I was that size 0, thigh gap girl you rarely meet in reality. But I have transitioned to “normal” and haven’t quite come to terms with it.
Still, I can’t help but wonder, when “normal” become subpar?
I walked around my office today, for the first time aware, that when I walk, my pants make noise. What is that?!?
Then I came to the safety of my home and realized, the noise isn’t gone because I’m safe. I’m still in my work clothes and my thighs and pants still make noise when I walk and I wonder if I’m the only one neurotically listening to the sound deafening to me…the noise of fabric and friction.
I realize this sounds stupid. But it’s the “real” of my life so I’m sharing.
How do you navigate the moment you are young and whatever size, and transition to normal adulthood without feeling the sting? I thought of burning my pants but the truth is, my thighs are the likely culprit, so no amount of flame will kill the ill.
But why is that an issue? Good Lord ladies, we are born of dust into a world of rust and lust, and suddenly, we are not enough?
Who sets these standards? And why do we care?
I, neurotically, navigate a world of “beauty”, when the whole time, I am beauty. Do we need size X to be happy? Or can we be real?
I am in my 40’s. I’ve had 5 children. I am the average woman walking down the street. Yet I am obsessing about the sound of polyester striking polyester?!? There’s something profoundly wrong there!
I am officially calling it bull! I can rock my polyester, not so amazing, work pants…serenade and all without thinking of my “thigh gap”. I can be me and feel amazing without being 20 again!
Listen closely if you dare, and you may hear the sound of my thighs rubbing together while I conquer the world! And God grant me the serenity to be okay with the melody!
Sincerely,
Me
There are many inconceivable stories around us every day that we haven’t heard. We have no idea what the person next to us has lived. We can’t conceive the stories that aren’t ours…that aren’t open to the vast space of the known. We hold glimpses not substance. We hold illusions and self-constructed paradigms, based on our own experiences. We can’t fully grasp the depth of the experience another has walked because we aren’t “another”. We are “we”, “us”, something separate peering in from beyond casting opinions.
And it’s almost inevitable. We do it. We can’t help it. I caught myself tonight. The judging voices from my worldview, looking upon someone else’s experience and thinking, huh???? Why is that so easy? Maybe it’s just our nature.
Regardless, I found myself looking at someone. They were saying a trigger from their past was causing them to look at a present circumstance and look for an exit route. My first reaction was (ashamedly) disdain. It seemed such a trivial thing. It seemed like something wholly redeemable. I tend to look at things as opportunities. If something from my past causes me to be triggered in my present, I want to rise above and kill the giant. I want to slay and once and for all triumph above the thing I know I really haven’t killed, but at least pretend I’ve brought light to the darkness. It’s my way of coping I suppose. But not everyone is wired that way and that’s okay.
I admire the strong who can say, “this is too much. I can’t right now.” Honestly, I’ve never been that brave. I have to conquer and do it anyway, damn the consequences to my own mental health. I figure all of that will work itself out eventually. But what if it doesn’t?
What if I’m left at the end with the trophies of my own self-proclaimed victories and an empty soul pleading that I was really trying to be strong? What if my desire for strength stifled my ability to lean in and find a strength to lean on?
I walk each day proclaiming the mantra that “I’ve got this” and all the while, I hear this small voice saying “My strength is made perfect in weakness”. And I KNOW this! And I lean on this, or pretend to, while I hold the world on my shoulders and pray against avalanches and earthquakes. Because I KNOW, I don’t “have this”. I need others. I need more than I alone can bring. I am not really the bionic woman I was named after (true story, I was named after the bionic woman’s character).
Yet, the weakness is the beauty. I am strong when I know I am weak. When I can stare at the wave about to toss me like a pebble and say, “You can’t break me”. Then feel myself being thrown about until the turbulence subsides…and I’m still standing in the end. That is strength. In that way, I am strong. And I hate that I’m so strong. Why do I always have to be so stinking strong?
Still, I can’t help but think that the beauty is in the response. What do we do with the giants we face down? Do we run and hide or dig deeper? Do we know at the bottom of the rockpile, there is a purpose only we can achieve? I suppose that may be the real question.
Maybe we as a people should quit running and face, with eyes ablaze, the next thing and then the next and then the next until we have finished our race.
I don’t know the answers but I know I will not go down without a fight and I will stop trying to be a lone warrior. I will find my army. Maybe it’s one or two to hold up my arms or whisper a quick, “you’ve got this”, when I feel like I’m going to break. Maybe it’s a tribe. But even when I break and crumble into a million pieces I trust the one who always puts me back together and I hope you do too. The breaking isn’t easy, but the beauty that comes from the rebuild is stunning. I’ll try to look for that beauty in others even when I’m tempted to get snarky and I hope you can see it in me as well.
Happiness is spending an hour on the phone with your grandmother. Happiness is legacy wrapped in light with sprinkles of hope and contentment. Happiness doesn’t come cheap. Sometimes it”s wrapped in struggle. Sometimes it is plain. But it is yours. Grab it and hold on!
Have you ever read something and you just can’t stop thinking about it? Saturday morning, I read a passage of Scripture, I’ve read probably one hundred times, but I never saw it. I’ve spent a lot of times studying the book of 2 Kings. I have a profound fascination with Elisha. I have even considered writing a book about it but I haven’t done it yet….maybe soon. Still, despite the many times I’ve read this, I never noticed this simple little thing hanging out in 2 Kings chapter 3.
I’m a musician, as many of you know. I have been involved in worship ministry in one form or another for the last 40 years of my life. I’m only 43 so it’s pretty obvious that music and worship have been instrumental (no pun intended…okay maybe a little intended) in who I am.
In 2 Kings 3, the king of Israel, Joram, and the king of Judah, Jehoshaphat have teamed up and are going to battle against Moab. Side note – I’ve always liked saying Jehoshaphat! It’s just fun. I feel like Buddy the Elf saying “Francisco” over and over again, “Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat”, but I digress. They decide they should ask the prophet of the Lord what they should do. Good idea Jehoshaphat! So they go to Elisha, who honestly, isn’t thrilled about the idea of helping them at all. He isn’t a big fan of Joram, who is still doing evil in the sight of the Lord and says in verse 13, “I want no part of you. Go to the pagan prophets of your father and mother!”
Still, despite Elisha’s attitude toward Joram, he agrees out of respect for…wait for it…Jehoshaphat. See it’s just fun! Anyway, the thing I never saw is in verse 15. Elisha agrees to ask the Lord for them, and in order to do that he says, “Bring me a musician.” 2 Kings 3:15. “Then it happened, when the musician played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him.” 2 Kings3:16.
The outcome here isn’t what I want to emphasize. What I can’t stop thinking about is that when Elisha’s own attitude was not in a space to find the word of the Lord, he knew how to pull himself out of it and into the presence of God. He knew that in in worship, God would reveal Himself. The hand of the Lord moved as the musician played.
I was talking with a friend recently who said they cannot stand the “worship” part of church. She meant the music. She just doesn’t get it and doesn’t understand why it is so repetitive etc. I get it. I also acknowledge that everyone has a different style and various worship expressions are necessary because we are all different and God speaks to us in different ways. Still never underestimate the power and impact that worship and music has on the lives and spirits of mankind.
If the hand of the Lord came upon Elijah through worship and he, Elisha, the man with a double portion of the anointing of Elijah needed them to call for a musician to change his attitude and hear from heaven, then it only makes sense why I fundamentally need music in my life. I am designed to absorb music. I feel it deeply. I sing loudly. I feel the atmosphere shift around me through melody and rhythm. It’s a part of me. It’s obviously a part of others as well and it’s in me so I can help others find and hear from heaven.
My point is two-fold. Number one, if something is in you, let it out! It’s in you for a reason. I’m a singer for a reason so I better SING! Whatever you have to offer, don’t keep it to yourself. Be who you are! Go out and change the world. I know it sounds cheesy, but do it anyway. God created you for a purpose and it wasn’t just to hide in the shadows. Live BIG!
Number two, if you’re struggling today, crank up the music and see what happens. Allow God to speak to you. Meditate on His word and listen. You never know what He will do. Crank it up! Dance! Sing! Listen! God is always speaking, not always how we think He will. It may be through music. It may be through a butterfly flying by your window. You never know, but if you have eyes to see and ears to hear, He will reveal Himself to you. Don’t miss it!
For some reason, I decided to dig back through the archives today. I guess I was interested to see how far I’ve come since I started throwing my thoughts out into the air. In honor of all the nostalgia, enjoy this little blast from the past. I still wonder a lot of these things…
I wonder if there is a haven for lost poems deep in the recesses of time…some magical place of calm & noise all jumbled together to form meaning.
I wonder if there’s a mystery to the soul that will never be solved until we meet our maker and then in His light, all will become clear, like a translucent breath given form and substance beyond its particles.
I wonder if there are places where two & two add up to three. You know…like me & you & we.
I wonder
I wonder at wonderful and it’s subjectivity, how the universals collide with perspective to form the moment when “it is good”
I wonder what happens to our dreams when we wake
I wonder what the substance of a prayer looks like from heaven and if mine have created something of beauty or a blob of selfish ambition. I pray the…
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The wind spins circles around my head
I see the life before me and I wonder if I’m supposed to be who I am
What is life but the continuing of one foot before another?
Every breath, a choice
Every moment, an opportunity for a voice
Yet, I am so often silent.
This is humanity…
A million moments of the mundane, followed by a hundred moments of impact.
But the mundane…the cleaning, the dishes, the listening to my kids talk about their day…the laundry…
In these moments, I become me. The woman I’m called to be.
So I’ll write and create and care for children, and sing, and process invoices, and update databases and go on..one foot in front of the other.
And in that, I will be more than I ever imagined.
Somehow, in the grind, God created destiny and legacy and that is enough for me.
Hello, tomorrow. I’m ready to do my best. We will see what God has in store. It may be great. It may be monotonous, but if it’s for Your glory, it’s entirely worth it.
One foot in front of the other…this is life.
Dream a little dream for me
As tomorrow nears
And the night closes its eyes
Or maybe it keeps them open waiting for morning
Or maybe tomorrow is a continuance of today
Or maybe we can sweep it away in solitude for brighter things to come
Whatever the case….
Goodnight today
Welcome hope
New mercies
New grace
Newness
Renewal
Light
Life
Another day means we made it
Another day means another chance
Failure doesn’t exist here
In the space of tomorrow
Keep going
Keep fighting
Try another day
And someday you’ll find the reward.
Just never surrender.
Who am I if the world stops turning for a moment
And I’m left with the quiet and the night
Who am I when grace is the only option
Because, alone, I’m never enough
And grace says that’s still okay.
Who am I in the face of lunchboxes and routines?
Who am I when I’m yelling at my kids to get out the door in the morning
Or to go to sleep at night?
Who am I?
I am loved!
I am chosen!
I’m okay.
And maybe, just maybe that’s enough
If you and I were “I and me” and the world were nothing but trees and bees, would any of it matter?
If I and you were, you and me, and there was nothing but us and song and “free”, would it be worth fighting for?
Just wondering…
Deep thoughts in the midst of a thoughtless night. Heaven help us.
But there’s tomorrow!
INSPIRED BY THE COMFORTER 