Looking Back

Since I live east of the big city, I'm blessed daily not to find myself squinting against the sun, whether going to or from work. And while I love to see glorious sunrises and sunsets, I'm glad I don't have to fight to see the road or oncoming traffic through the bright glare, especially when the pavement is wet or snowy.

Sometimes though, I do wish I was driving into the painted sky, rather than away from it. I've only got three mirrors to give me a back view, and even that's difficult if I'm staying focused on driving. I've often been tempted to simply pull over so I can open my door and stick my head out to look back at the scene God made (just for me, I'm sure).

On a recent evening, I was driving home from a little later than normal. Of course, the sunset was an awesome one, and it was to my back. I kept looking in my mirrors as much as I could, just so I could enjoy it. After all, in a few minutes, it would be gone, and I'd never see another one like it again.

My newest cellphone, I discovered, has this great feature where all I have to do is give it a shake, and the camera comes on. This came in really handy as I could still keep hold of my steering wheel, while also taking some random shots with my phone. I figured if I couldn't safely turn around and take a really good picture, I might as well catch what I was seeing in one of my mirrors.

It really didn't do the scene justice at all, but it did capture the moment so I could remember one of the many sunsets I've seen and loved.

I've often heard it said, "Don't look back." Sometimes it's meant literally, but usually figuratively. Don't look back. The past is gone. Look straight ahead. Don't dwell on what is gone. While I believe there is much truth in this, I'll also say that sometimes I think it's good to look back. Without looking back, how can we see how far we've come? Without looking at the past, how can we gauge our successes? Or goals achieved? Or circumstances we survived?

The best thing about a mirror is that you don't have to turn all the way around to look back. You can stay focused on what lies ahead, but still see how far you've come. Looking back doesn't mean turning around and going back. Remembering milestones, accomplishments, and survival of trials has the ability to keep us moving forward.

Just because there may be ugliness in the virtual mirror doesn't mean God cannot also reveal to us what is beautiful.

Have a great weekend! And if you want to take pictures while driving... have the passenger do it, or pull over. ;-)


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts.

My Love/Hate Relationship

I hate working out. Actually, I love it. No...I think I really hate it. Well, maybe it's both, once I think about it.

Twice a week, I participate in a Warrior X-Fit kickboxing class. We get to punch and kick the punching bags in all sorts of different ways, and we're put through some incredibly outrageous no-one-in-their-right-mind-would-do-these exercises. It's a great calorie burning, fat busting, muscle building workout that lasts about 45 minutes. Each time I go to class, about 30 minutes in, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die right there on the mat in a puddle of my own sweat. Somehow I usually manage to pull through with sheer willpower, and a bit of competitiveness (I can't allow myself to quit if the person next to me is still going strong!)

As much as my body hates this routine, I have to admit, I've become much more fit. I've lost fat, gained muscle and increased my overall stamina. The class incorporates a ranking system, and I'm up to blue belt (the 7th level), which means the workouts are a lot more intense than they were when I started out, but black belt (the 10th level) is still my goal. Even though I just about die every week, I've been reaping the benefits of long-term endurance.

What I hate more than a physical workout is a spiritual one. And what I probably hate even more than that is the reminder, "trials make you stronger." I hate hearing that. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to admit whatever I suffer may have a benefit at the end, because I'd much rather sit and wallow in my misery, because it's oh so much fun in that dark little hole of mine.

(Sigh)

As I start my week on this dreaded Warrior X-Fit Monday, no matter what my body or my mind is complaining about, I know that Tuesday is tomorrow, then Wednesday, and the week isn't going to stop. It's going to keep going, and so am I. And as much a I don't want to admit it, all the little things I'm going to deal with this week, whether at home or work, are, in the end, going to make me spiritually stronger if I let them. I'm going to gain a little more patience, a little more understanding and probably a little more humility. And some of it will probably hurt, and I'll probably whine a bit before realizing that does no good. Just like I keep going at my kickboxing workout even when my muscles are burning and I'm pretty sure I'm going to pass out any second, I've got to keep going in life.

For me, I've got a stronghold that keeps me going, even when I'm weak. His name is Jesus. If you don't have Him as a stronghold, I recommend you do, since it makes life so much more bearable, even during the toughest times, and the rewards far outweigh the discomfort.

So yeah, as much as I hate the whole "trials make you stronger" thing...even I have to acknowledge the truth in it. Every time I stretch a resistance band and sweat pours down my face, I'm getting stronger. And every time my spirit is faced with opposition (and I don't give up), I'm getting stronger.

Some Days...

On Facebook yesterday, I said that some days are like trying to put on a shirt elbow-first. And to be completely honest, yes, I was speaking from experience. Both the experience of an awkward day, and the experience of literally stuffing my elbow through my t-shirt sleeve, only to find my arm stuck in that awkward position and threatening to cramp. It's a good thing I've got short arms, otherwise I may have needed the assistance of someone else, and would have had to show myself in public (looking like a flailing chicken in need of a medical squad).

Thankfully, I was able to pull my arm back through and stick my hand into the sleeve first, the second time around. No one knew how close I'd come to death by contortionism. Or embarrassment. The coroner probably wouldn't have been able to tell.

I've come to accept the fact (though I still get frustrated) that every so often, a day is going to end up just like the literal t-shirt experience. I get up in the morning, everything looks good, then something happens. Everything comes to a screeching halt, and I can't accomplish what I wanted (or at least not as quickly as I wanted). Eventually, something gives. Either I take a step back, reevaluate and go at it from a different angle, I tear through the obstacle like a flailing chicken (and either accomplish the task or simply ruin the virtual shirt), or I risk the shame of my uncomfortable position and ask for help.

In the end, how I react is up to me, and the consequences of my approach should be weighed. Do I really want to ruin the virtual shirt? Maybe there's a reason the obstacle is there. Asking for help really isn't shameful. Simply slowing down and rethinking might solve things. Getting frustrated and flustered only makes things worse - virtually or literally.

The answer on how to get around, through, or over obstacles vary, but if we'd slow down and take time to actually look at any situation, we'd probably be surprised at the possibilities presented. And...the lives of some t-shirts (or flailing chickens) might be saved. I've never seen anyone harmed by slowing down and taking a deep breath before going on.

Have a blessed weekend. And if you get your elbow stuck in your shirt sleeve, please manage a selfie before straightening it out.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts.

Who Are You?

There are certain people I thought I knew fairly well. Until I read what they posted on social media sites, like Facebook.

I’ve heard it implied that what’s posted on social media sites isn’t really the true person behind it. They’re just venting. Feeling uninhibited in that virtual world. Sharing what they think is funny. To get to know a person, you have to see them face-to-face and socialize in reality. I’ve been told to ignore some of what I see, because it’s just a virtual shadow of the real person anyway.

But even if what I see on social media sites is a virtual shadow of the user, have you ever seen a shadow that does not mimic the form of the actual object?  The thing is, what’s shared on sites like Facebook or Twitter is, in fact, a reflection of the users.

A part of me says I shouldn’t be surprised at some of the inappropriate things I see on social media, posted by people I thought lived by higher moral standards. It’s easy to post anything on the fly and not really think about it. But there’s another part of me that says no, I should be surprised. I should be disappointed in some of the things I read. I should hold those people accountable. If they wouldn’t say to my face what they post online, why are they showing it to me to read?

I don’t have to read or watch anything I don’t want to. I can block people, I can skip over certain posts on Facebook or Twitter, and I don’t have to visit blogs. But this isn’t about my personal exposure to inappropriateness, of which I have full control. It’s not even a social media issue. It’s a heart issue.

If one is willing to share an inappropriate post or picture, but not say it out loud, that doesn’t mean it’s just their shadow on the internet. It means the shadow lives at home, and the real person was just seen online while their guard was down. While they were comfortable. If one is willing to use bad language or share inappropriate jokes on social media sites, it is a glimpse into their heart. Just because they’re not willing to repeat it at church or in family settings does not mean they’re free and clear. What they post is who they are. (And if it’s not, then their problem is the chameleon trend people have adopted to take on behaviors of whomever they’re around or whatever platform they’re involved in, be it reality or chat rooms or Facebook. In which case, I dare say they don’t know themselves who they really are.)

Honestly, it all boils down to integrity. If a person I know face-to-face has shown to live a life worthy of respecting, yet what they share online contradicts this, my respect dwindles. I’m not saying I have to agree with or appreciate everything they post. I know I’m only one of their 984+ friends or followers. And I make mistakes, too. But one thing I know – I do try to post things that do not contradict my daily living. Things that do not contradict my convictions or moral standards.

If I knew someone in real life who cursed every other word, told dirty jokes to my face, and was rotten to the core, if they acted on Facebook in the same manner, I would have more respect for them than the people who try to make me think they’re good, clean or even godly people, then turn around and post bad jokes or use foul language on social media sites. The one who posts the way they live has more integrity than the “good” person who lives by double standards.

I’ve gotten to know a lot of people through Facebook, and maybe I take it more seriously than some. But I’m okay with that. I like knowing who it is I’m dealing with. I like knowing what their heart is like so when I see them in person, I won’t be surprised. And in viewing social media sites this way, I’m also holding myself accountable. I think twice before posting. Who am I? These words are a reflection of me. Is this who people see when I greet them on the street, in the store, at church, or at work? Or am I, too, adopting a double standard?

I choose to live with integrity. That means posting online with the same standards by which I live.

Not So Sweet

Rebellious. That’s how I recall my mother describing me on more than one occasion since I was a child. Personally, I’d rather say I was/am “strong-willed.” It seems to have a little more positive ring to it at least. 

In reality, I do remember being a child that had frequent urges to do things my way, even if I couldn’t find a very good reason. Or sometimes my reason for doing things my way was simply because it was the opposite of everyone else – I didn’t want to follow the crowd or do what was popular. I wanted to be the different one. Once I made up my mind, it became the principle of the thing, and backing down was the worst kind of defeat.

I remember getting in much more trouble than my older brother, who tended to give in earlier to our parents’ authority in order to avoid extra punishment. Me? I became an expert at writing “I will not” sentences. Lots of them. Hundreds of them at a time. (Insert grimace here.) But, who knows? Maybe that’s why I ended up being a writer. Maybe somewhere down deep I enjoyed writing page after page of sentences. Well…I don’t remember actually enjoying those times, but the fact of the matter is, I had a hard time allowing my will to be bent. I liked doing things my way, and that was that. I still do. Although now, thankfully I have the wherewithal to 1) know when it’s appropriate or not to push the limits, and 2) I no longer have to write sentences or receive spankings.

As an adult, I’ve wondered about my strong-willed nature, and worried I may have caused my parents undo stress. It is interesting though - now grown, that very nature has helped me survive the rough patches in my life. I’ve come to realize that God gave me my rebelliousness for a reason. He knew I’d need my stubbornness to get through the tough times. He knew I would need to stick by my guns and refuse to give in to the easy route, or to bad advice.

Sometimes I don’t like my own personality. I think I ought to be more like so-and-so, or I think I’m not good enough for such-and-such. But I’m learning that I’m me for a reason. Special. Unique. And just the way God intended.


I love hearing from you. Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts!

Nitro's Mornings

Today’s kitty antics are brought to you by Nitro, my critter child. From her own mind’s perspective, this is her typical morning…

I hear the covers rustling. She must be awake. Is she? Creeping closer. Closer. Her eyes are closed. Is she even alive? Sniffing her face just to make sure. Whoa! She’s got a wicked backhand. Good thing I’ve got “cat-like” reflexes. Baha! Well humph, she wasn’t really awake. I’m hungry. Should I try to get her up? After all, her alarm is going to ring in about fifteen minutes. She shouldn’t mind getting up that much earlier. I think I’ll pounce on her feet.

Oof! Glad I landed on my own feet. She’s got a mean kick, too. Still not awake? Surely she must be almost dead. I’ve gotta get back up there and check again. Watch the whiskers, watch the whiskers…  Whew! She’s still breathing and I managed not to tickle her. Hey look! The covers are moving again! There must be some kind of squirmy creature under there! I shall pounce, grab, scrape and bite, so she’ll be proud of me for saving her life. Wee!

Oh.

That was her hand. Well, at least she opened her eyes. Wait, why is she putting a pillow over her head? Nooo! I want my breakfast! Yelling loudly in her ear won’t even work now. I suppose if she’s going to be that way, I’ll just go knock some things off the kitchen counter. That usually gets her up.

Did you know napkins in the garbage are one of my favorite toys? If I work hard enough, the paper multiplies…all over the carpet! Yippee!

What? What’s that? I finally hear her alarm! Yay! I’ll go greet her, for surely she’s…wait… what’s this? She shut it off, but is going back to sleep. I can’t let her do that! She’ll be late for work. Jumping on her head. Kneading her leg. Hollering directly into her ears, one at a time. Licking her nose (one of my favorites). Pawing (gently) at her face. Running across the bed in an unexplainable zigzag pattern. Get up, get up, get up!

Whoa! Her alarm again! Whoopsies…she was planning to get up all along. Smiling. Smiling. Looking cute. Widening my pupils so she’ll see my adorable eyes. I’ll kiss her on the cheek this time.

Ahhh…the bliss of her hand running up and down my back. She must like to hear me purr. And…and…she’s getting out of bed! Wahoo! Breakfast! Waiting at my bowl…waiting, waiting…and…she’s gone to take a shower. Seriously? After all that work, she takes her shower before feeding me?! I’ll go knock on the shower door to speed things up…

Sheesh, I guess she’s planning to do everything else before going to work, but is obviously forgetting to feed me, even though I’ve been complaining to her for the last half hour. She’s even got her shoes on and is ready to walk out the door! You can’t leave! I’m starving here!

Hooray! Food! Yes! Finally!!!

Was that the door closing? Oh, I guess she’s gone for the day. I was crunching too loudly to notice. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I’ll be sure to jump in her arms when she gets home tonight as an apology. She always likes that.

Huh…now that breakfast is over, I’ve gotta find something to occupy myself. Hey look… I think my human left her bedroom door open. Play time! 

Think she'll notice I got in the pantry?

I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts!

Grand Ol Parking Lot

Funny how perspectives change.

The house I grew up in had a nice, big yard (at least it seemed big to me at the time), that was bumped up right against the parking lot of our local grocery store. This created some definite pros and cons, although the pros were probably more aimed towards my brothers and me (being kids).

One main con was, of course, traffic. Although being in a small town, apart from a few crazy drivers, it wasn’t bad. The lights in the parking lot were sometimes annoying, and our yard would gather bits of trash from litterbugs. Oh, but the pros…

Did you know lit-up parking lots at night are the best kind of rollerblading rink? (I won’t mention the one time a car caught me by surprise… God had His eye on me.) Fun times. Another great thing is that during the winter, the grocery store’s snow had to be piled up somewhere. And being in New York, we got quite a bit of that white stuff. Guess where they piled it? Right along the back edge of our yard. Instant snow hill/fortress.  It was usually too steep for sledding, but that didn’t stop us from sliding down on our bottoms.

When my brother and I were old enough, the grocery store was one of the first places we were allowed to go alone, since it was so close to the house. What a thrill that was! And of course, the distance between the store and home was so short that precious groceries, like cranberry sherbet, didn’t have time to melt before we could eat them. Did I mention there was a video store adjoining the grocery store? Another fun spot to go and pick out that night’s movie rental.

If I were to purchase a house today, one place I would not look would be directly behind a grocery store. I’d see all the cons and would steer clear. Or perhaps…I’d let my inner child come out and I’d see all the grand possibilities. Sliding down a mountain of snow on my bottom does have appeal…

I love hearing from you. Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts!

I'm a Smorgasbord

So after hitting the snooze on my alarm, followed by my critter children trying to get me up, I finally dragged myself out of bed only to realize that I not only had very little time to get ready for work, but I also had no idea what I was going to eat for breakfast, let alone what I was going to take to work for lunch (sigh). It's not like there wasn't anything in my refrigerator, freezer or pantry. Granted, none are overflowing, but I do have food. I just couldn't decide what I wanted.

As I stood at my refrigerator, my older critter child gladly tried to help me decide what to pick...

...but she wasn't much help. I finally decided I had enough small portions of perishable food that I should just throw it all together and deal with the outcome. Besides, I was running out of time. I wound up with some Greek yogurt, a bag of chips, some imitation crab, an apple, and a few grapes. I did decide not to mix anything, for which I feel aptly intelligent. (And my taste buds won't have reason to kill me.) In the end, it was an odd lunch, but it wasn't bad, and it filled my nutritional needs. 

Sometimes I wonder if anyone looks at me and sees an odd smorgasbord. (Actually, I look at me in the mirror and see an odd smorgasbord.) I'm really not sure why I've got some of the interests or talents that I do, and some of them seem kind of unrelated, not to mention strange. But I figure God knew what He was doing when He created me, so no matter how odd I am, He must like it that way for some reason. (I guess that makes me a walking smorgasbord.) After all, He's a God who loves variety.

So have a good weekend, and don't forget to enjoy the variety of life. Just don't mix your Greek yogurt and imitation crab.

It's Gotta Get Worse

My mother: "Go clean your room."
Me: "Okay."
[an hour later]
My mother: "What have you been doing?! It looks worse in here than when you started!"

Yeah, true story...on multiple occasions. Actually, the same scenario has happened even more times, in a variety of atmospheres. My office... my apartment... my car. I may have outgrown my mother telling me to clean my room, but what hasn't changed is the fact that often a bigger mess is created before any progress is seen. (I was going to post a picture of one of my messes but...I decided to keep you from that unnecessary horror.)

Of course, cleaning is often times made more difficult by my critter children. That neatly stacked paper? Prime target for a kitty dive bomb off the table. That garbage sack waiting to be filled? A perfect hiding spot! (Until it moves unexpectedly, then becomes the chamber of terror from which said critter must escape by means of frantically tearing through the bottom. So much for using that bag.)

While I want to blame my cats for making my messes even worse, the responsibility really falls on me. But...in my defense (and in finding the ultimate excuse), I've found it quite necessary to create a bigger mess before I can really clean. Necessary, as in I can't clean until the chaos is dragged out into the open and I can sort through it. What are floors for? Sorting piles of paper, books, lone socks, dust bunnies and a few unidentifiable objects. Sometimes a stray potato chip even appears from under a couch cushion (aka: spoiled food vending machine).

Thankfully, I have the wherewithal to keep cleaning past the point of chaos so I can actually accomplish my task...eventually. Interestingly enough, I've also realized there's something to be said for cleaning out the crud in my life. In order to do so, the nastiness has to be dragged to the surface and dealt with before I can overcome it and get rid of it. And while I may not have virtual critter children running around my mind and making it more difficult, my own pride does a pretty good job.

If I really want to be honest, I hate cleaning. I love the end results, and sometimes I get to the point where a particular mess is driving me crazy enough that I have to clean it...but the act of cleaning really isn't my favorite pastime. Neither is soul-cleansing my favorite activity. But both are necessary...unless one wants to be a slob inside and out for their entire life.

So go embrace the mess. And if anybody asks, just tell them you're cleaning. For without a worse, there would be no better.

That Place in My Soul

Remedy Drive. I thought I knew the name of the band from the radio, perhaps, but that was about all I knew. Friends were going to see them perform at a Faith and Family Night at a county fair not too far away, so that really was my motivation for going, more than the music. Of course, before going, I hit the Internet and looked up Remedy Drive on Youtube so I'd at least have an idea of what I was getting into. I liked what I heard, and figured the concert would probably be pretty good.

After seeing Remedy Drive in person, if I were asked to use only one word to describe them, I would use "passion." Wow. Much of that passion came from Dave Zach, the lead vocalist. I'd been watching him for quite a while already, as his brother was the lead for another band, Arrows and Sound. Dave had energy even when he wasn't performing. He helped Arrows and Sound set up, watched from the sidelines with his phone (he seemed to be taking pictures or videos), came onstage for a special part in one of the songs, and hung out nearby, totally enthralled with watching. I don't know what was going through his mind, but his body language suggested he enjoyed watching his brother on stage as much as he enjoyed performing. Later, his brother in Arrows and Sound barely made it through thanking Dave for being there and supporting him because he was so emotional. I felt the brotherly love was real and not just a show.

When Remedy Drive finally took the stage, it was pure energy. It was loud, and it was fun. Enthusiasm and passion overflowed from the stage and into the audience. Even after a handstand on the keyboard, jumping up onto the drum set and leaping off, Dave kept going. I was impressed with his stamina. And his message. He spoke of the mission of his heart - to chip away at child trafficking and slavery. He admitted that it wouldn't be abolished completely, but that it could be chipped away at little by little, offering hope and freedom to the oppressed. As he spoke, again, it was passion that I saw and felt.

During one song, I found myself closing my eyes and allowing my soul to be enveloped by the sheer wall of sound. It was loud. Loud enough to drown out the world. Loud enough I could feel the bass reverberating in my chest. I felt myself in a place I didn't want to leave, where nothing around me existed anymore. Even amidst that deafening bombardment of noise, there was peace. I found myself in a place I should find more often, within a world full of noise. Perhaps it is not noise to my ears, but noise to my soul. The devastation. Hurt. Hunger. Need. Chaos.

In my soul is the only One who can give me that calm. That peace. That place where only I can go to escape, rest, and accept that free gift of sanctuary. It's there because He loves me, and because my life is in His hands. Without it, without Him, I would never survive the noise of the world.

The concert was fun, made possible by good music, fantastic lemonade, great friends and soul-soothing sounds. Not getting nearly enough sleep last night after a long drive home was well worth it.

Friday's Funny - WWJD

https://www.facebook.com/Christianfunnypictures

Should tempers flare, insults fly, rudeness occur, or patience expire, just remember that flipping over tables and using a whip may not always be the appropriate answer... even if imagining it does cause you to smile.

Have a joy-filled, stress-free weekend, everyone.