Yes, that's what you are. You have been in His quiver, His holding place, for this time of releasing. You've waited for this moment to arrive. It is now here.
God is The Master Archer. This day, He has selected you and has said, "It's your time, are you ready?" Slow and steady He places you on the string of the bow.
Your parents are the bow. He has used them to prepare you for life and here it is, this very moment. He holds the bow in His hands, with a strong, powerful grip, preparing them too...for letting go of you is just as hard for them even though they've known this day was coming.
The Archer raises His arms with bow and arrow firmly in place, squints one eye to zone in on the target for a precise and calculated shot. He's focused totally on the target with accuracy as His goal.
The target is your destiny. With steady aim, The Archer releases you full speed through space and time and to a place that seems so far away, yet so close. But it's yours to hit. It's your mark. With no one else's name upon it, your purpose will come closer and reveal itself as the target looms large in front of you.
And there you are, dead center of the bullseye. Your intended place. Archer and bow afar watching you be what you were created to be, an arrow in the Hand of God.
My prayer is that you don't stray to the right or the left but straight on to the center of your purpose.
"He hath bent His bow and set me as a mark for the arrow. He hath caused the arrows of His quiver to enter into my reins." Lamentations 3:12-13
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
This Is Going To Hurt Me More Than It Does You
That's a big, fat, hairy lie....was the thought I'd have every time my mother said this to me right before she spanked me. How could she even possibly think that this is hurting her worse?
My mother and I had the usual mother/child rituals. Punishment was one of them. After I had tempted, tested, and tried my mother to the nth degree. And after she had told my sister and I for the 100th time to stop torturing one another, she would then head out the back door. When we heard the screen door slam shut, we knew it was all over but the crying. Sitting right beside our back porch was a switch bush. How convenient.
I have since, as a mother, come to understand the statement, "this is going to hurt me more than it does you." How many times my heart has ached because I had to enforce a punishment. As mothers, we pour our entire lives into our children only to watch them ebb and flow from brilliancy to stupidity in the same hour. Which in turn causes me to ask, "Where did you come from?" Even though I know, I still need to ask...it helps me to decipher whether they are animal, vegetable, or mineral.
Then I am prompted to ask questions like, "Who raised you?" and ultimately, "Where have the aliens taken my real children?" Then out of exasperation, I concede that I am terrible at this 'mother' thing and if it hadn't been for me, my kids might have been more perfect. Epic fail.
Yes, all mommies question themselves and their abilities to guide their children from babyhood to independencehood. To prepare our kids for Decision Making 101 and Real Life Sciences is very unnerving and tedious. Do we even know what we are doing?
I have since learned a long time ago, that, no, on my own, I have absolutely no idea how to get dressed in the morning much less prepare and launch a child into their future. But I know the One that came up with all this novel idea of child-rearing and such.
Think of God as an archer. In His quiver are many arrows, which are your children. In His hand is a bow, which is the mother and father. He draws an arrow from His quiver, He brings His arms up, bow in one hand, arrow in the other. He places the arrow with the bow, aims the arrow at the target and using the assistance of the bow (parents) He shoots the arrow (child) into their future as they hit their mark, their target, their destiny, they are firmly in their place that they were sent.
I know my random stupidity has hurt God. And though I believe that God does NOT give you cancer and causes you to have car wrecks to teach you something, no more than I would stand my child out in a busy highway to teach them that traffic is dangerous, I know that my dimwittedness has caused the pendulum of repercussions to swing my way. You see, He has law and He has an order and divine physics are in motion for us all to hit our marks. As precise as the Archer is, we, His children can completely and stupidly get in the way for Him to stand and shoot us to our destiny. Thus, hurting Him more than it hurts us.
Wouldn't it hurt you, mother, to stand and watch your own child do the same? Because you know the pendulum is swinging and you'll have to stand there and let the cause take effect. God loves you so much that He will stand there and let you do what you've made up in your mind to do and will also love you through the direct hit you take because of the results of your decision. Isn't that what we have to do as mommies?
Moms, take a lesson from your own children. Remember and recount how it feels when your baby rejects your aiming and direction, and all you're trying to do is be the bow in the Archer's mighty hand. It feels the same to God when we reject His aiming and purpose for our lives. This Mother's Day why not take a little target practice with your kids.
My mother and I had the usual mother/child rituals. Punishment was one of them. After I had tempted, tested, and tried my mother to the nth degree. And after she had told my sister and I for the 100th time to stop torturing one another, she would then head out the back door. When we heard the screen door slam shut, we knew it was all over but the crying. Sitting right beside our back porch was a switch bush. How convenient.
I have since, as a mother, come to understand the statement, "this is going to hurt me more than it does you." How many times my heart has ached because I had to enforce a punishment. As mothers, we pour our entire lives into our children only to watch them ebb and flow from brilliancy to stupidity in the same hour. Which in turn causes me to ask, "Where did you come from?" Even though I know, I still need to ask...it helps me to decipher whether they are animal, vegetable, or mineral.
Then I am prompted to ask questions like, "Who raised you?" and ultimately, "Where have the aliens taken my real children?" Then out of exasperation, I concede that I am terrible at this 'mother' thing and if it hadn't been for me, my kids might have been more perfect. Epic fail.
Yes, all mommies question themselves and their abilities to guide their children from babyhood to independencehood. To prepare our kids for Decision Making 101 and Real Life Sciences is very unnerving and tedious. Do we even know what we are doing?
I have since learned a long time ago, that, no, on my own, I have absolutely no idea how to get dressed in the morning much less prepare and launch a child into their future. But I know the One that came up with all this novel idea of child-rearing and such.
Think of God as an archer. In His quiver are many arrows, which are your children. In His hand is a bow, which is the mother and father. He draws an arrow from His quiver, He brings His arms up, bow in one hand, arrow in the other. He places the arrow with the bow, aims the arrow at the target and using the assistance of the bow (parents) He shoots the arrow (child) into their future as they hit their mark, their target, their destiny, they are firmly in their place that they were sent.
I know my random stupidity has hurt God. And though I believe that God does NOT give you cancer and causes you to have car wrecks to teach you something, no more than I would stand my child out in a busy highway to teach them that traffic is dangerous, I know that my dimwittedness has caused the pendulum of repercussions to swing my way. You see, He has law and He has an order and divine physics are in motion for us all to hit our marks. As precise as the Archer is, we, His children can completely and stupidly get in the way for Him to stand and shoot us to our destiny. Thus, hurting Him more than it hurts us.
Wouldn't it hurt you, mother, to stand and watch your own child do the same? Because you know the pendulum is swinging and you'll have to stand there and let the cause take effect. God loves you so much that He will stand there and let you do what you've made up in your mind to do and will also love you through the direct hit you take because of the results of your decision. Isn't that what we have to do as mommies?
Moms, take a lesson from your own children. Remember and recount how it feels when your baby rejects your aiming and direction, and all you're trying to do is be the bow in the Archer's mighty hand. It feels the same to God when we reject His aiming and purpose for our lives. This Mother's Day why not take a little target practice with your kids.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
My Space
Do you remember the scene in Dirty Dancing where Johnny tells Baby, "This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine.", as he forms the boundaries of space between their frames for her first dance lesson? Dancers are a group of individuals that are very territorial when it comes to our "space". Whether it's a vast space or a tight one, we all mark ours on stage or in classroom.
Space is a valuable possession to a dancer, it's in our space that we take lines and angles and call them moves, and we permeate through our spaces to express the moves. Silently. It's our place. Our realm. Our space.
This notion is not just practiced by dancers, I've seen this in church pew all the way to friendships. We all know somebody that got ruffled because someone sat in their pew or someone horned in and took a friend away. I think we all have infringement issues. I think we all have it branded in our genetic codes to be mindful of our spaces.
Two-year-olds know the word "mine" fairly early in their learning to communicate stage. The deed to my house is very specific as to where my property starts and stops. God even zoned off areas for the Twelve Tribes of Israel to live to be their inheritance. Allotted space is clearly understood between humans as well as the animal kingdom.
I know which is my house, my car, my clothes, my children, my husband, my money. You know yours. I don't dance in your space and you don't dance in my space. Simply understood, right? Yet, we as Christians are very ignorant of our spaces and the immense deception when it comes to the enemy of our territory. He is a 'space invader' in the truest sense of the word.
Adam and Eve had their space invaded. We're talking authority here. Their realm of authority. Eden was their given realm of authority. When Sly Snake slithered into their space they had complete rights to say, "This is my dance space, and not yours. Out!" But they didn't do it, they got caught up in thoughts thinking God was withholding them from being like Him. This was majorly not even so. So began the plan to get our space back to us, legally. Enter Jesus.
Easter is the hallmark celebration for those of us that call ourselves Christ-i-ans. If not for Easter, there is no need for our faith at all. Easter was the complete fulfillment of the plan to get our space back. Eden was supposed to expand to cover the earth (read The Eden Atmosphere, July 26, 2010). Because of the completed work of Jesus, Eden has now been placed inside of us instead of being a physical location.
That's MY space. Mr. Slick is not welcome into it. He usually does not try the garden gate, he creatively camouflages himself in my realm and tries to make me think it's me thinking those thoughts. That it's me that wants to be angry or resentful. That it is my personality to get aggravated or frustrated. Or that it's just natural for me to get into fear and worry, anxiety and stress. After all, all of that is just common to humans. The only thing that we should be having in common is we should all stand squarely in our space and tell the snake in camo that he is to exit our jurisdiction. There is no...mi casa su casa.
Anything that pertains to you, is your jurisdiction. Think of it. Name it. It's your arena. This is the birthright you've had purchased for you, thanks to the event of Easter. Signed. Sealed. Delivered. As Jesus was about to ascend into Heaven, He very clearly gave us back our rightful ownership. The devil may be the ruler of this world's system, but the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof. My space is the fullness thereof.
Space is a valuable possession to a dancer, it's in our space that we take lines and angles and call them moves, and we permeate through our spaces to express the moves. Silently. It's our place. Our realm. Our space.
This notion is not just practiced by dancers, I've seen this in church pew all the way to friendships. We all know somebody that got ruffled because someone sat in their pew or someone horned in and took a friend away. I think we all have infringement issues. I think we all have it branded in our genetic codes to be mindful of our spaces.
Two-year-olds know the word "mine" fairly early in their learning to communicate stage. The deed to my house is very specific as to where my property starts and stops. God even zoned off areas for the Twelve Tribes of Israel to live to be their inheritance. Allotted space is clearly understood between humans as well as the animal kingdom.
I know which is my house, my car, my clothes, my children, my husband, my money. You know yours. I don't dance in your space and you don't dance in my space. Simply understood, right? Yet, we as Christians are very ignorant of our spaces and the immense deception when it comes to the enemy of our territory. He is a 'space invader' in the truest sense of the word.
Adam and Eve had their space invaded. We're talking authority here. Their realm of authority. Eden was their given realm of authority. When Sly Snake slithered into their space they had complete rights to say, "This is my dance space, and not yours. Out!" But they didn't do it, they got caught up in thoughts thinking God was withholding them from being like Him. This was majorly not even so. So began the plan to get our space back to us, legally. Enter Jesus.
Easter is the hallmark celebration for those of us that call ourselves Christ-i-ans. If not for Easter, there is no need for our faith at all. Easter was the complete fulfillment of the plan to get our space back. Eden was supposed to expand to cover the earth (read The Eden Atmosphere, July 26, 2010). Because of the completed work of Jesus, Eden has now been placed inside of us instead of being a physical location.
That's MY space. Mr. Slick is not welcome into it. He usually does not try the garden gate, he creatively camouflages himself in my realm and tries to make me think it's me thinking those thoughts. That it's me that wants to be angry or resentful. That it is my personality to get aggravated or frustrated. Or that it's just natural for me to get into fear and worry, anxiety and stress. After all, all of that is just common to humans. The only thing that we should be having in common is we should all stand squarely in our space and tell the snake in camo that he is to exit our jurisdiction. There is no...mi casa su casa.
Anything that pertains to you, is your jurisdiction. Think of it. Name it. It's your arena. This is the birthright you've had purchased for you, thanks to the event of Easter. Signed. Sealed. Delivered. As Jesus was about to ascend into Heaven, He very clearly gave us back our rightful ownership. The devil may be the ruler of this world's system, but the earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof. My space is the fullness thereof.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Peeves That I Pet
Don't get me started...don't even get me started. Okay...I've started. I have the peeves. As I have gotten older they have become more overt. This is a polite way to say I am more articulate in expressing my deep dislike of certain situations and happenings that grate me like 40-60 grit sandpaper.
Well? Doesn't it bother you when someone sits on your made-up bed? Or how about when someone knows how to drive but doesn't understand how blinkers work or what a turning lane is for...or Mr. Impatient pulls out in front of you to only then drive like a fossil-head (my pet name for this style of driving).
Here's another...using your stuff and then not return it to where they borrowed it from. Someone tells you what time to meet them and they are later than late with no explanation or invites you to dinner at their house at 6:00 and they haven't pulled any food out to cook...aaaaahhhhh!!!!! Or people that, the only thing you can depend on is their undependable- ness.
Here's the monumental one for this peever: having things that serve a purpose and it does not work, function, or provide its service. Nothing can cause me to orbit the earth's atmosphere any more than this! When I get a product out to use it, I want it to do what is was designed to do, right at that very moment. I do not want it to stop up, freeze up, blow up, choke up, or give up. Is having the vacuum cleaner do its job 10 minutes before the guy comes to look at your ceiling because it leaked just after a new roof had just been installed too much to ask? Is it? Is it too much to ask that the new roof work? The garage door remote work, even with new batteries? The copier work, even with new ink cartridges? People work, even with strong bodies and bright minds?
Please don't misinterpret my peeves for being hard to please, picky, and expect perfection from everyone. I think I am more frustrated because I'm not. I take and flow and give and for-give and take some more and flow some more and give some more and for-give some more and then....then...the Queen is no longer amused.
There are days that I totally feel God's pain when He has able-bodied children that offer no help to further His cause one iota. Look how strong and brilliant we are, made like Him and yet don't function in the capacity we were created to. The depth of our ability to love, the length of our need to serve, the height of our special gifts and talents...all used for our own daily needs and for our own gratification.
Just like my vacuum cleaner...created to suck up and remove all the debris, filth, undesirable, unneeded, useless junk from the places we live and walk in, we have like purposes to do the same for others, provide a service that benefits and enhances their lives.
Jesus rebuked a fig tree for not fulfilling its call to produce fruit, food, nourishment to Him and his travelers. It was posing as a place to be fed but offered nothing to eat. It was not living its reason for being. I can't hide behind grace and say, "Jesus knows my heart" or "God understands how uncomfortable I get doing things I don't like". Grace is given to me so I CAN DO the thing He wants from me. Jesus noted that it would be by our fruit that we will be known. He recognized it to be a fig tree I'm sure because of its shape, size, and leaves but the thing that was important enough to document was the fact that it did not serve its purpose. It was taking up space and gave nothing in return (except for a small amount of oxygen).
Don't ever be caught living, breathing, taking up space and offer nothing to the world around you. To feed, to nourish, to love, encourage, to give, to offer and provide THAT is our purpose. The scriptures say that David "served his generation and then slept with his fathers". Don't be like an empty building on the street corner that looks like a business is there, even has a sign out front but when you try to go in and use their service you find it is out of business and no longer provides what you needed. If you go to the cleaners, you expect cleaned clothes, when at the the gas pumps you expect gas, when at school you expect a place to learn. The same is true for God's created children, He expects us to function in the perfection that we were created to function and does not desire any malfunction in us whatsoever. I would suppose if God had a peeve this would be it, too. Like Father, like daughter!
Well? Doesn't it bother you when someone sits on your made-up bed? Or how about when someone knows how to drive but doesn't understand how blinkers work or what a turning lane is for...or Mr. Impatient pulls out in front of you to only then drive like a fossil-head (my pet name for this style of driving).
Here's another...using your stuff and then not return it to where they borrowed it from. Someone tells you what time to meet them and they are later than late with no explanation or invites you to dinner at their house at 6:00 and they haven't pulled any food out to cook...aaaaahhhhh!!!!! Or people that, the only thing you can depend on is their undependable- ness.
Here's the monumental one for this peever: having things that serve a purpose and it does not work, function, or provide its service. Nothing can cause me to orbit the earth's atmosphere any more than this! When I get a product out to use it, I want it to do what is was designed to do, right at that very moment. I do not want it to stop up, freeze up, blow up, choke up, or give up. Is having the vacuum cleaner do its job 10 minutes before the guy comes to look at your ceiling because it leaked just after a new roof had just been installed too much to ask? Is it? Is it too much to ask that the new roof work? The garage door remote work, even with new batteries? The copier work, even with new ink cartridges? People work, even with strong bodies and bright minds?
Please don't misinterpret my peeves for being hard to please, picky, and expect perfection from everyone. I think I am more frustrated because I'm not. I take and flow and give and for-give and take some more and flow some more and give some more and for-give some more and then....then...the Queen is no longer amused.
There are days that I totally feel God's pain when He has able-bodied children that offer no help to further His cause one iota. Look how strong and brilliant we are, made like Him and yet don't function in the capacity we were created to. The depth of our ability to love, the length of our need to serve, the height of our special gifts and talents...all used for our own daily needs and for our own gratification.
Just like my vacuum cleaner...created to suck up and remove all the debris, filth, undesirable, unneeded, useless junk from the places we live and walk in, we have like purposes to do the same for others, provide a service that benefits and enhances their lives.
Jesus rebuked a fig tree for not fulfilling its call to produce fruit, food, nourishment to Him and his travelers. It was posing as a place to be fed but offered nothing to eat. It was not living its reason for being. I can't hide behind grace and say, "Jesus knows my heart" or "God understands how uncomfortable I get doing things I don't like". Grace is given to me so I CAN DO the thing He wants from me. Jesus noted that it would be by our fruit that we will be known. He recognized it to be a fig tree I'm sure because of its shape, size, and leaves but the thing that was important enough to document was the fact that it did not serve its purpose. It was taking up space and gave nothing in return (except for a small amount of oxygen).
Don't ever be caught living, breathing, taking up space and offer nothing to the world around you. To feed, to nourish, to love, encourage, to give, to offer and provide THAT is our purpose. The scriptures say that David "served his generation and then slept with his fathers". Don't be like an empty building on the street corner that looks like a business is there, even has a sign out front but when you try to go in and use their service you find it is out of business and no longer provides what you needed. If you go to the cleaners, you expect cleaned clothes, when at the the gas pumps you expect gas, when at school you expect a place to learn. The same is true for God's created children, He expects us to function in the perfection that we were created to function and does not desire any malfunction in us whatsoever. I would suppose if God had a peeve this would be it, too. Like Father, like daughter!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Oops, I Did It Again
Why do I do the things I hate and don't do the things I should do...like stop myself? Argh! How can toilet paper make me act so unbecomingly? A simple observation of '12 rolls are now down to 2 in five days time' and before I know it, oops, Miss Petty appears.
I hate it when she shows up. I don't like her. She'll take a simple statement that could address the problem like, "Hey everybody, slow down on the T.P. usage, k?" and turn it into a detailed dissertation of facts, statistics, and evidence.
"Large amounts of this stuff will stop up the septic tank. Remember the septic tank? The one we just had to have cleaned and new field lines put in last year? Did I mention stopping up the septic tank? Twelve rolls minus 10 rolls in five days equals 2 rolls a day! No behind needs this much paper!! Are you making turbans with it? Is someone playing "mummy"? Does someone have a toilet paper eating disorder we should know about?"
She digs the cardboard tubes from the bathroom wastebasket and puts them on all her fingers to emphasize the amount used, AGAIN, and then away she goes with, "Will I have be the toilet paper monitor? We might have to have a library check-out system for this paper! Seriously, really, 6 squares for number one and, maybe...possibly, 18 squares for number two."
Ole' Petty probably would be finished at this point but members of the defense actually deny using the paper which makes her all the more accusatory. "You people" is a favorite term she uses to call the defense when their make-believe statement and their common sense run away with dish and the spoon. "Well, somebody has used it! The cats? The dog? Did they roll the 'Bama Wear' in Childersburg?"
Abruptly, I gain control and tell Pettypooper to "zippeth thy lippeth". "This is getting nowhere and accomplishing nothing." She was wanting repentant confessions that simply were not going to come. Her cry of "Repent, all ye who wasteth the paper uselessly!" was met with, "We shant".
I'm the one left with the twangs of why do I do that? How does it slip out like that? When are you going to learn to handle things differently? Don't you see her coming? Dang. The thing I hate, I do. From what I've heard, there are others that suffer from 'wretched man' disease where the symptoms are easy to see. The symptoms are: you do the opposite of what you should do and then guilt comes, like coffee with your dessert.
Who is able to deliver me from Miss Petty and her sidekick, Guilt? Well, since it's the Inventor of toilet paper and septic tanks Himself, I figure He can. He's the One that's even made me aware of her showing up and that she is not like His personality or His character, at all. And He's the One that forgives me when I let her rip and then let guilt rip me. He's also the One that shows me that there is a way to completely stop them from having it their way. 'I' repent for participating with them and show them the bathroom door! Out!
As long as I live and breathe, there will be different kinds of "oops, I did it again" situations. Just like the other day, when Princess Short and Snippy showed up.....
I hate it when she shows up. I don't like her. She'll take a simple statement that could address the problem like, "Hey everybody, slow down on the T.P. usage, k?" and turn it into a detailed dissertation of facts, statistics, and evidence.
"Large amounts of this stuff will stop up the septic tank. Remember the septic tank? The one we just had to have cleaned and new field lines put in last year? Did I mention stopping up the septic tank? Twelve rolls minus 10 rolls in five days equals 2 rolls a day! No behind needs this much paper!! Are you making turbans with it? Is someone playing "mummy"? Does someone have a toilet paper eating disorder we should know about?"
She digs the cardboard tubes from the bathroom wastebasket and puts them on all her fingers to emphasize the amount used, AGAIN, and then away she goes with, "Will I have be the toilet paper monitor? We might have to have a library check-out system for this paper! Seriously, really, 6 squares for number one and, maybe...possibly, 18 squares for number two."
Ole' Petty probably would be finished at this point but members of the defense actually deny using the paper which makes her all the more accusatory. "You people" is a favorite term she uses to call the defense when their make-believe statement and their common sense run away with dish and the spoon. "Well, somebody has used it! The cats? The dog? Did they roll the 'Bama Wear' in Childersburg?"
Abruptly, I gain control and tell Pettypooper to "zippeth thy lippeth". "This is getting nowhere and accomplishing nothing." She was wanting repentant confessions that simply were not going to come. Her cry of "Repent, all ye who wasteth the paper uselessly!" was met with, "We shant".
I'm the one left with the twangs of why do I do that? How does it slip out like that? When are you going to learn to handle things differently? Don't you see her coming? Dang. The thing I hate, I do. From what I've heard, there are others that suffer from 'wretched man' disease where the symptoms are easy to see. The symptoms are: you do the opposite of what you should do and then guilt comes, like coffee with your dessert.
Who is able to deliver me from Miss Petty and her sidekick, Guilt? Well, since it's the Inventor of toilet paper and septic tanks Himself, I figure He can. He's the One that's even made me aware of her showing up and that she is not like His personality or His character, at all. And He's the One that forgives me when I let her rip and then let guilt rip me. He's also the One that shows me that there is a way to completely stop them from having it their way. 'I' repent for participating with them and show them the bathroom door! Out!
As long as I live and breathe, there will be different kinds of "oops, I did it again" situations. Just like the other day, when Princess Short and Snippy showed up.....
Friday, January 7, 2011
This Year I Will Get Back in Whack
You know it when you're out of whack. Everything is out of order from your laundry to your spine. It's not obvious to others, but you see the lack of whack literally in every part of your life. Right?! No? .....I keep forgetting that I am the only whacked species of my kind. I have to remind myself that everyone else on this planets' lives and homes look like magazine covers.
I could be on the cover of Disorder Weekly or Fashionably Disarrayed. But there are no such magazines, are there? "Why is that?", I ask...I answer myself..."Because no one wants to see my chaos". If I were a hoarder, somebody would want to see that, but I'm not a hoarder, or a piler, or a stacker, or a collector of stuff. I'm actually a minimalist. Less is quite more, to me.
So what's all this talk about a disheveled life? It's my perception. It's how I view my surroundings. Here is the best comparison I can use: it's like the anorexic saying they are fat and obviously they are not. So it is with me, no one can convince me that the contents of my house is not growing in shape and size exponentially right now even as I blog.
Okay! I put a lot of emphasis on neatness. But if you looked closely you would not see neatness AT ALL. There are unpainted shutters and unpainted toenails. There are unassigned items that need an assignment. There are socks without their mates, drawers with useless doodads. Videos not put on DVD's, undeveloped disposable cameras waiting at least 4 years to be developed because we've had our digital camera for 4 years. I agonize because I am not organized!!
Who told me I needed to agonize? Well...um...hmmm...me? Right Jeanna, ME! Me told me that I needed to agonize over my lack of whack. Eureka! I've discovered something very crucial. I listen to me way to much. I put a lot of undue pressure on me. Unnecessary laws...this has to be this way...I need this done by...I don't feel I've accomplished a lot today...the garage needs an intervention.
My goal for 2011 is simple and minimal, like me. Find the whack, lure it to my house and put it to work. By the end of this year you just might see me on the cover of In Whack...And Loving It!
I could be on the cover of Disorder Weekly or Fashionably Disarrayed. But there are no such magazines, are there? "Why is that?", I ask...I answer myself..."Because no one wants to see my chaos". If I were a hoarder, somebody would want to see that, but I'm not a hoarder, or a piler, or a stacker, or a collector of stuff. I'm actually a minimalist. Less is quite more, to me.
So what's all this talk about a disheveled life? It's my perception. It's how I view my surroundings. Here is the best comparison I can use: it's like the anorexic saying they are fat and obviously they are not. So it is with me, no one can convince me that the contents of my house is not growing in shape and size exponentially right now even as I blog.
Okay! I put a lot of emphasis on neatness. But if you looked closely you would not see neatness AT ALL. There are unpainted shutters and unpainted toenails. There are unassigned items that need an assignment. There are socks without their mates, drawers with useless doodads. Videos not put on DVD's, undeveloped disposable cameras waiting at least 4 years to be developed because we've had our digital camera for 4 years. I agonize because I am not organized!!
Who told me I needed to agonize? Well...um...hmmm...me? Right Jeanna, ME! Me told me that I needed to agonize over my lack of whack. Eureka! I've discovered something very crucial. I listen to me way to much. I put a lot of undue pressure on me. Unnecessary laws...this has to be this way...I need this done by...I don't feel I've accomplished a lot today...the garage needs an intervention.
My goal for 2011 is simple and minimal, like me. Find the whack, lure it to my house and put it to work. By the end of this year you just might see me on the cover of In Whack...And Loving It!
Monday, December 20, 2010
It's All In The Shoes
It's Nutcracker season! I have on my Alabama Ballet Nutcracker sweatshirt as I sit and write. I have seen a bazillion performances of all kinds of the Nutcracker. I've even have had some of my own students in professional company performances. Makes mama proud!
Each dance company has their own take on the story of Clara and her night of Christmas magic, but the same theme is repeated no matter how the story is told. Clara is given a special gift (the Nutcracker) and there is an enemy (the Mouse King and his cohort) that tries to take it from her.
The problem is solved very early in the ballet, in fact it is solved even before intermission and Clara goes on to experience a wonderfully, beautiful time of fantasy and the dance. Do you remember how she stops her menacing enemy that threatens to take away her prized possession? She threw her shoes at her enemy. Off goes the problem from wince he came.
I had a similar situation happen to me about 15 years ago. Hold on to your religious shoes. I had been going through a time of really pressing in to go further with my relationship with God. I had gotten very desperate for more of Him. I had some "prized possessions" that I knew God had given me and I needed to move from where I was to where I needed to be in order to use them.
So, I'm at a revival. I had been attending it all week long. It was the last night of the revival and I felt I had not gotten what I wanted. My enemy, whom I am terribly ignorant of at times, was tussling with me not to go beyond where I was. It was during the altar call, I was standing up front near the side of the church. I knew what God wanted me to do but the voice of fear had me scared to obey God, that should of been a good indication to make me push on through, BUT...me and my mind mumbled, and muttered, and spit, and sputtered, and rocked and reeled. It was odd what God had told me to do.
My mind said, "This is so dumb", "You'll look ridiculous, "No one has ever done anything like this before...in a church", "You'll be escorted out", "What has this got to do with getting closer with God", I asked. Here's what happened. I felt impressed to slip my shoes off and place them on the floor next to my feet, yes...in church. I told you it was odd. The second I got my first shoe in my hand God said, "Throw it." My brain had a meltdown, you could see it coming out of my ears. I knew in that very instant that if I didn't do it right then that I was going to put myself in the very center of my enemy's perfect place for me and THAT was not an option. So....I reared back and with stupid all over me, I threw my shoe clean to the back of the church and the second one followed shortly afterwards. I have not been the same since that day.
All I can say is the veil that had kept He and I separate was torn in two that night. My enemy scampered off and I fell deeply in love with my God and His Word. Does God always ask you to do such dramatic things, no, no He doesn't. Drastic times take drastic measures. Everyone has their own "story". This just happens to be mine. This is the way mine is told. You have yours. The common story line is this: you can have your enemy out of the picture way before intermission and you can go on and have a wonderfully, beautiful, unabandoned, unfettered relationship with your God. It just may be the shoes holding you back.
Each dance company has their own take on the story of Clara and her night of Christmas magic, but the same theme is repeated no matter how the story is told. Clara is given a special gift (the Nutcracker) and there is an enemy (the Mouse King and his cohort) that tries to take it from her.
The problem is solved very early in the ballet, in fact it is solved even before intermission and Clara goes on to experience a wonderfully, beautiful time of fantasy and the dance. Do you remember how she stops her menacing enemy that threatens to take away her prized possession? She threw her shoes at her enemy. Off goes the problem from wince he came.
I had a similar situation happen to me about 15 years ago. Hold on to your religious shoes. I had been going through a time of really pressing in to go further with my relationship with God. I had gotten very desperate for more of Him. I had some "prized possessions" that I knew God had given me and I needed to move from where I was to where I needed to be in order to use them.
So, I'm at a revival. I had been attending it all week long. It was the last night of the revival and I felt I had not gotten what I wanted. My enemy, whom I am terribly ignorant of at times, was tussling with me not to go beyond where I was. It was during the altar call, I was standing up front near the side of the church. I knew what God wanted me to do but the voice of fear had me scared to obey God, that should of been a good indication to make me push on through, BUT...me and my mind mumbled, and muttered, and spit, and sputtered, and rocked and reeled. It was odd what God had told me to do.
My mind said, "This is so dumb", "You'll look ridiculous, "No one has ever done anything like this before...in a church", "You'll be escorted out", "What has this got to do with getting closer with God", I asked. Here's what happened. I felt impressed to slip my shoes off and place them on the floor next to my feet, yes...in church. I told you it was odd. The second I got my first shoe in my hand God said, "Throw it." My brain had a meltdown, you could see it coming out of my ears. I knew in that very instant that if I didn't do it right then that I was going to put myself in the very center of my enemy's perfect place for me and THAT was not an option. So....I reared back and with stupid all over me, I threw my shoe clean to the back of the church and the second one followed shortly afterwards. I have not been the same since that day.
All I can say is the veil that had kept He and I separate was torn in two that night. My enemy scampered off and I fell deeply in love with my God and His Word. Does God always ask you to do such dramatic things, no, no He doesn't. Drastic times take drastic measures. Everyone has their own "story". This just happens to be mine. This is the way mine is told. You have yours. The common story line is this: you can have your enemy out of the picture way before intermission and you can go on and have a wonderfully, beautiful, unabandoned, unfettered relationship with your God. It just may be the shoes holding you back.
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