I view blessings differently than I used to. First, I’m more grateful, and more apt to recognize blessings after reading an article that chided those who might call the nice things in life “blessings.” Their point was that sometimes things just happen – God is still in control, but having cheaper-than-expected car repairs, or finding the perfect pet companion were things that simply will or won’t happen in the world, and labeling them as blessings would make others (who didn’t get the cheap repairs, or whose dog just died) feel of lesser value to God. I understand what the writer was saying, but I can’t and won’t stop giving God the credit, even for the little things. Maybe it’s just something He allowed life to give me, but even so, He could have prevented it, and who else am I going to thank? I gained a new sense of necessity to remember to thank God, and often, for the things which I have, whether they’re material possessions or things of eternal consequence.
Second, I have discovered that blessings only make me feel less at home here. This is not to be misunderstood as ungratefulness. On the contrary, I have experienced such blessings in my life that I long, even more, to know and see the Giver of those blessings. Being blessed by anything from material possessions, to health, to family and friends, to financial means have nothing to do with resting securely on this earth. They have nothing to do with finding pleasure in the “stuff” of this world. Why would God want His children to be more satisfied here when there is something so much greater waiting for us after this life is over?
I think the more accurate perspective would be that first, God enjoys bringing pleasure to His children. While He will often allow man to follow a path not of His will, and He certainly does many things we do not understand, I believe He finds enjoyment in our smiles. I only say this because we were ultimately made in His image, and as a father enjoys seeing his children happy, I can only conclude that God enjoys loving on His children as well. The other side of the coin is that God also wants us to know Him more. Better. Deeper. I may experience trials. I may experience being broke and sick, and forced to live on the street – but the greatest blessings have nothing to do with my physical needs – they have to do with my spiritual needs. God blesses us with physical contentment not so we can live a life of luxury, but so we can remember to thank Him and realize He’s still in control, and, ultimately, so we will long to be with Him forever.
I won’t stop giving God the credit for even the smallest things. I don’t care if life would have dealt me those same cards anyway. And I also won’t allow the blessings to compromise my perspective by making me too comfortable here on earth. If my neighbor has more than I, it is no reason to feel less valued by God – it’s just another opportunity to thank Him for what I do have, and to thank Him for what’s to come: something better.
No matter the blessing, life here is temporary. The “stuff” of this world will pass away eventually. Nothing lasts – not even the material things God has allowed me to have. Nothing but God and our salvation in Him is forever.
So I will be grateful. But more so for the fact that God loves me than for the fact that I have a level of physical or emotional comfort.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
5/12/15
5/5/15
Successful Experiment that Failed
I may very well be the only person who has noticed my ever-slowing
additions to this blog. And to be completely honest, I originally
revamped how I did things here as an experiment. I wanted to find out if
a book I read was true – that building an online audience was possible.
And on a small scale, it did work. If I would follow the advice of a
particular best-selling author, I’m sure I could be as successful as she
claims. But here it is: after trying out the whole “build an audience”
thing, I realized it really wasn’t my thing.
Starting out, I decided to quit talking about writing only. I’ve got a few writer friends who might read my posts, but reading about writing can be…rather boring. And I know that. So I stopped. Or rather, I significantly reduced my writing-related articles. I still believe that was a wise move. However, my next decision was to blog on a schedule and talk about a wide array of topics to which my readers could relate. So with those goals, I began blogging about things like my cats. Collecting key chains. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Doodling. You know – things that really matter. As long as I could get my three posts a week in, even if it was sharing a silly YouTube video, I felt successful. And my readership did grow.
But after a while, my enthusiasm waned. Not because I didn’t like telling people about my flowers, Mr. Squirrel, or surviving a smoke alarm disaster, but because I was blogging because I had to. And if I didn’t have anything worth writing about, I’d come up with some shallow information – which may have made readers smile, but I was blogging simply to meet my own schedule and to gain that sought-after readership. That was all.
As usual though, I go against the flow, and I don’t like doing things just because other people like it, or just because it’s the “in” thing. And while my pointless rambles might have been enjoyed to a certain degree, they did little to satisfy me. Seems a little selfish, but in all reality, my blog is about me and what I like. And here’s the thing: I like having points. Generally, I can find a spiritual point in just about any situation since God is just that important to me, or at the very least, I can create a life-application out of the simplest story. Writing about peanut butter and jelly? Cute, but what’s the point? That’s what my Facebook page is for.
Blogging lately has become more about what inspires me, and less about staying on schedule. More about what might encourage or enlighten someone, and less about using anything just to check blogging off my to-do list. As I continue down this path, I’ll probably have fewer readers. As the content steers more away from the everyday blather, those who read my posts may know less about my kitties’ adventures and my taste for Doritos, but they’ll probably gain a better understanding of who I really am. And there are those who might not notice a difference at all, and are, at the moment, wondering what on earth I’m talking about. And that’s okay, too.
Don’t worry – I’ll still have life’s silly adventures documented here, I’m sure. And I'm not trying to eliminate the fun tongue-in-cheek articles that I love to write. But when I’m absent for a while, it’s not because I’ve lost interest. It’s simply because I’m searching for something deeper than Doritos to blog about. I want my readers – however few they may be – to know me, and not just be another number on the chart that shows how many people have read my posts. My initial experiment was a success, no doubt. But numbers don’t define me. So now, I just want to be me, regardless of how big or small my audience is, and focus more on what I like to write about, when I like to write about them.
Starting out, I decided to quit talking about writing only. I’ve got a few writer friends who might read my posts, but reading about writing can be…rather boring. And I know that. So I stopped. Or rather, I significantly reduced my writing-related articles. I still believe that was a wise move. However, my next decision was to blog on a schedule and talk about a wide array of topics to which my readers could relate. So with those goals, I began blogging about things like my cats. Collecting key chains. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Doodling. You know – things that really matter. As long as I could get my three posts a week in, even if it was sharing a silly YouTube video, I felt successful. And my readership did grow.
But after a while, my enthusiasm waned. Not because I didn’t like telling people about my flowers, Mr. Squirrel, or surviving a smoke alarm disaster, but because I was blogging because I had to. And if I didn’t have anything worth writing about, I’d come up with some shallow information – which may have made readers smile, but I was blogging simply to meet my own schedule and to gain that sought-after readership. That was all.
As usual though, I go against the flow, and I don’t like doing things just because other people like it, or just because it’s the “in” thing. And while my pointless rambles might have been enjoyed to a certain degree, they did little to satisfy me. Seems a little selfish, but in all reality, my blog is about me and what I like. And here’s the thing: I like having points. Generally, I can find a spiritual point in just about any situation since God is just that important to me, or at the very least, I can create a life-application out of the simplest story. Writing about peanut butter and jelly? Cute, but what’s the point? That’s what my Facebook page is for.
Blogging lately has become more about what inspires me, and less about staying on schedule. More about what might encourage or enlighten someone, and less about using anything just to check blogging off my to-do list. As I continue down this path, I’ll probably have fewer readers. As the content steers more away from the everyday blather, those who read my posts may know less about my kitties’ adventures and my taste for Doritos, but they’ll probably gain a better understanding of who I really am. And there are those who might not notice a difference at all, and are, at the moment, wondering what on earth I’m talking about. And that’s okay, too.
Don’t worry – I’ll still have life’s silly adventures documented here, I’m sure. And I'm not trying to eliminate the fun tongue-in-cheek articles that I love to write. But when I’m absent for a while, it’s not because I’ve lost interest. It’s simply because I’m searching for something deeper than Doritos to blog about. I want my readers – however few they may be – to know me, and not just be another number on the chart that shows how many people have read my posts. My initial experiment was a success, no doubt. But numbers don’t define me. So now, I just want to be me, regardless of how big or small my audience is, and focus more on what I like to write about, when I like to write about them.
4/21/15
Oh, Introverted Me
There can be a lot of negative things said about a labeled introvert.
Some definitions or perceptions lean towards a selfish nature, or
behavior akin to being a hermit. But while negative actions may indeed
describe some people, introverts, as a whole, can no more be placed in
the same basket than can bananas and apples. Though both are fruit, they
are very different. As are introverts.
I’ve discovered this as I have researched my own personality traits. I’m one of those weird people who likes to figure out exactly what makes me tick. What actions or reactions are natural versus learned? Where do my emotions come from? Why do I prefer solitude over a multitude? In finding answers, I’ve discovered, as always, that no two people are completely alike. Though I may label myself as an introvert, I’m still different from my neighbor, also claiming to be an introvert. That said, we all, who love the quietness of our own minds over the loudness of a crowd, find ourselves on much common ground.
I found these statements on Wikipedia, and they very much describe the way I feel:
“Some popular psychologists have characterized introverts as people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction… Introverts are easily overwhelmed by too much stimulation from social gatherings and engagement… Mistaking introversion for shyness is a common error. Introverts prefer solitary to social activities, but do not necessarily fear social encounters like shy people do.”
After reading the very first sentence, I wanted to jump up, throw my arms in the air and yell, “Yes!” Because this is exactly me. People. Wear. Me. Out. I’m not saying I don’t love people. I do! I have many friends whose hugs I crave. I have social circles I enjoy. I need interaction with others – truly. But it doesn’t take me long to get maxed out. It’s kind of like putting gas in my car. When I’m alone, I’m fueling up. My energy “tends to expand through reflection.” Once I’m around people – be it one or ten, my engine is running. The situation and types of people can often dictate how fast my fuel gauge moves, but regardless, it heads towards empty. My energy “dwindles during interaction.” Again, this doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it. I love zipping down the highway in my car, too, but eventually, the tank hits “E.” And when it does, trying to continue driving does nothing but make the situation worse. Soon, I’m stranded along the highway, exhausted and frazzled. It’s the same way for me on the inside when I’ve been over-stimulated, or have gone too long without a personal refuel.
Unfortunately, at least with me, there are no real rules. I can’t say that interacting with nine people is my limit, and when I hit ten, that’s when my energy dwindles. Nor can I say that it takes me sixty minutes of quiet to refuel, and on minute sixty-one, I’m ready to go again. Every day is different, depending on emotions, physical conditions, and mental strain – or lack thereof. Sometimes I can go a week with a ton of boisterous interaction and be just fine. And sometimes all it takes is one hour with the right (or wrong) person, and I’m craving a whole week of quiet with just me and my cats. Who I'm with – whether it be my best friend, a coworker or my own family – can matter little. And hitting the overstimulation point is as easy to predict as the weather – you can get fairly close, but the weather can, and will, throw its own curveballs.
In the end, I’m an introvert who sometimes likes to dress in an extrovert’s clothing. As with most people, I have both traits – I just usually lean more heavily towards the introverted side of things.
So when I walk away, please don’t think me rude – I probably just need a few minutes of quiet. When I seem to not engage in conversation, please don’t take it personally – I may simply be allowing my brain to refuel. When I decline a social activity, please don’t think I don’t like spending time with you – it may just be a day I need to decompress. If I say I’d rather go home and watch a movie alone rather than hang out, please know I simply need to chill out before I run my tank dry – our relationship is still secure. When I tell you I’m spending the day at home to do nothing but read and sort laundry, don’t feel sorry for me – I’m probably loving it more than you know. And when I can’t stand to even breathe the same air as you, please realize I’m probably just over-stimulated – I still love you the same as I did before, and I just need a break. Your patience and quietness is all I need.
Being an introvert is not an excuse to hide away, be rude or avoid people. My personality traits do not dictate my actions – what I do is still my choice, no matter my tendencies. I'm a mature adult who chooses not to run screaming out of a crowded restaurant when that's all I really want to do. But struggling to survive as an introvert is very real, and a little bit of understanding can go a long way.
I’m certain that extroverts have many challenges as well. We all do, no matter where we fall on man’s scale of personality traits. But this is the perspective I know well. And I know God can and will use me, introvert or not, if I pay attention and make sure He’s first in my life…even on days I feel over-stimulated.
I’ve discovered this as I have researched my own personality traits. I’m one of those weird people who likes to figure out exactly what makes me tick. What actions or reactions are natural versus learned? Where do my emotions come from? Why do I prefer solitude over a multitude? In finding answers, I’ve discovered, as always, that no two people are completely alike. Though I may label myself as an introvert, I’m still different from my neighbor, also claiming to be an introvert. That said, we all, who love the quietness of our own minds over the loudness of a crowd, find ourselves on much common ground.
I found these statements on Wikipedia, and they very much describe the way I feel:
“Some popular psychologists have characterized introverts as people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction… Introverts are easily overwhelmed by too much stimulation from social gatherings and engagement… Mistaking introversion for shyness is a common error. Introverts prefer solitary to social activities, but do not necessarily fear social encounters like shy people do.”
After reading the very first sentence, I wanted to jump up, throw my arms in the air and yell, “Yes!” Because this is exactly me. People. Wear. Me. Out. I’m not saying I don’t love people. I do! I have many friends whose hugs I crave. I have social circles I enjoy. I need interaction with others – truly. But it doesn’t take me long to get maxed out. It’s kind of like putting gas in my car. When I’m alone, I’m fueling up. My energy “tends to expand through reflection.” Once I’m around people – be it one or ten, my engine is running. The situation and types of people can often dictate how fast my fuel gauge moves, but regardless, it heads towards empty. My energy “dwindles during interaction.” Again, this doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it. I love zipping down the highway in my car, too, but eventually, the tank hits “E.” And when it does, trying to continue driving does nothing but make the situation worse. Soon, I’m stranded along the highway, exhausted and frazzled. It’s the same way for me on the inside when I’ve been over-stimulated, or have gone too long without a personal refuel.
Unfortunately, at least with me, there are no real rules. I can’t say that interacting with nine people is my limit, and when I hit ten, that’s when my energy dwindles. Nor can I say that it takes me sixty minutes of quiet to refuel, and on minute sixty-one, I’m ready to go again. Every day is different, depending on emotions, physical conditions, and mental strain – or lack thereof. Sometimes I can go a week with a ton of boisterous interaction and be just fine. And sometimes all it takes is one hour with the right (or wrong) person, and I’m craving a whole week of quiet with just me and my cats. Who I'm with – whether it be my best friend, a coworker or my own family – can matter little. And hitting the overstimulation point is as easy to predict as the weather – you can get fairly close, but the weather can, and will, throw its own curveballs.
In the end, I’m an introvert who sometimes likes to dress in an extrovert’s clothing. As with most people, I have both traits – I just usually lean more heavily towards the introverted side of things.
So when I walk away, please don’t think me rude – I probably just need a few minutes of quiet. When I seem to not engage in conversation, please don’t take it personally – I may simply be allowing my brain to refuel. When I decline a social activity, please don’t think I don’t like spending time with you – it may just be a day I need to decompress. If I say I’d rather go home and watch a movie alone rather than hang out, please know I simply need to chill out before I run my tank dry – our relationship is still secure. When I tell you I’m spending the day at home to do nothing but read and sort laundry, don’t feel sorry for me – I’m probably loving it more than you know. And when I can’t stand to even breathe the same air as you, please realize I’m probably just over-stimulated – I still love you the same as I did before, and I just need a break. Your patience and quietness is all I need.
Being an introvert is not an excuse to hide away, be rude or avoid people. My personality traits do not dictate my actions – what I do is still my choice, no matter my tendencies. I'm a mature adult who chooses not to run screaming out of a crowded restaurant when that's all I really want to do. But struggling to survive as an introvert is very real, and a little bit of understanding can go a long way.
I’m certain that extroverts have many challenges as well. We all do, no matter where we fall on man’s scale of personality traits. But this is the perspective I know well. And I know God can and will use me, introvert or not, if I pay attention and make sure He’s first in my life…even on days I feel over-stimulated.
3/3/15
I Love All Her Faces
It’s time again for me to bring up one of my critter children. Not because I’m a crazy cat lady (yet) but my one cat seems to have a way of teaching me life lessons when I least expect it.
One thing that has been impossible for me to capture in a picture is how Nitro acts when she wants something (whether food or just attention), especially when I get home from work or when I get up in the mornings. Somewhere along the way, she developed a habit of jumping up into my arms (from the floor or nearby furniture). At first, I was surprised by her behavior, but it was cute, and even though half the time it just meant she was hungry, it felt like she loved me and wanted a hug – and her purring just added to my own pleasure.
What I soon observed was most special though, was how she was jumping on me. I realized that not only was she aiming at my chest (rather than the ledge of my shoulder), but she was not extending her claws either. She was aiming herself at me, fully expecting me to catch her. Once caught, the purring would start, and she’d give my hairline a wet grooming, whether it needed it or not. She had complete faith that every time she jumped, I’d catch her and hold her.
Eventually, I stopped and thought about Nitro’s behavior and how it compares to how I should be with God. It’s hard to trust someone I can’t see – I admit it. I love God with all my heart and I follow Him and have faith in Him. But it’s not always easy. Sometimes I want to do things my way. Or I don’t really have enough trust that He knows what He’s doing with my life. I extend my claws to hang on – just in case He really does let go of me. Or maybe I don’t jump at all, scared He won’t catch me.
But the truth of the matter is, if there is only One I can ever trust, it’s Him. I fully believe He will never let me down. And as such, I should always feel brave enough to leap into His arms, fully trusting that He will not only catch me, but He’ll never drop me. That’s just the way He is.
As quirky as Nitro can be, (she’s playing in a couple cardboard boxes as I type this, and doing a good job of making me laugh) she also, unknowingly, teaches me about life…if I’m willing to stop and take a closer look.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
Ever since she was a tiny kitten, she’s lived up to her name, Nitro.
Whether she presents herself as a Christmas gift,
steals my heat,
or takes over my television remote control,
she’s my best bud. I’ve often said that I believe God gave me Nitro just to make sure I smile every day. She likes to grab moving blankets,
hang upside down,
attempt the impossible,
sit at the dinner table,
ship herself to exotic destinations,
and take up residence in my bathroom sink.
No matter what, even if she destroys any attempts on my part to get some work done,
(and no matter how innocent she tries to look)
I love her.
One thing that has been impossible for me to capture in a picture is how Nitro acts when she wants something (whether food or just attention), especially when I get home from work or when I get up in the mornings. Somewhere along the way, she developed a habit of jumping up into my arms (from the floor or nearby furniture). At first, I was surprised by her behavior, but it was cute, and even though half the time it just meant she was hungry, it felt like she loved me and wanted a hug – and her purring just added to my own pleasure.
What I soon observed was most special though, was how she was jumping on me. I realized that not only was she aiming at my chest (rather than the ledge of my shoulder), but she was not extending her claws either. She was aiming herself at me, fully expecting me to catch her. Once caught, the purring would start, and she’d give my hairline a wet grooming, whether it needed it or not. She had complete faith that every time she jumped, I’d catch her and hold her.
Eventually, I stopped and thought about Nitro’s behavior and how it compares to how I should be with God. It’s hard to trust someone I can’t see – I admit it. I love God with all my heart and I follow Him and have faith in Him. But it’s not always easy. Sometimes I want to do things my way. Or I don’t really have enough trust that He knows what He’s doing with my life. I extend my claws to hang on – just in case He really does let go of me. Or maybe I don’t jump at all, scared He won’t catch me.
But the truth of the matter is, if there is only One I can ever trust, it’s Him. I fully believe He will never let me down. And as such, I should always feel brave enough to leap into His arms, fully trusting that He will not only catch me, but He’ll never drop me. That’s just the way He is.
As quirky as Nitro can be, (she’s playing in a couple cardboard boxes as I type this, and doing a good job of making me laugh) she also, unknowingly, teaches me about life…if I’m willing to stop and take a closer look.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
2/5/15
Singing in the Snow
So, yesterday was another snow day for me. As in, I woke up to blowing snow and a ridiculously low wind chill, which made me decide it was worthless to try and drive the 45 minutes to work. I went back to bed.
When I did finally get up, I took this picture off my front porch.
My poor car (which isn't a hatchback - it just looks like it from the snow piling up on the trunk) appeared to be frozen stiff. The wind was howling and blowing even more snow off my apartment roof. Snow from just a couple days prior was still piled up behind my car. I think my nose froze solid in the three and a half seconds I stood outside. The picture doesn't show very well that at this point, the snow was still falling pretty steadily. And then I heard it.
Birds.
Singing.
Seriously? I could hear all kinds of birds up in the trees (I didn't look for them, since I was trying to avoid hypothermia) singing up a storm (no pun intended). If I hadn't seen the snow or felt the cold temperature, I would have thought it was springtime. It stunned me (for that extra half second), and I stepped back inside my apartment just shaking my head.
Now, I don't speak Birdish, so maybe these flocks of birds were on the warpath and hurling insults at each other, but my imagination happily sits on the notion that these particular feathered creatures were part of a merry choir.
To be honest, it kind of made me think about my own attitude. I'm all for snow days, but I was on the verge of loathing a day stuck at home with a ton of work piling up at the office. But I was inside! Warm. Dry. Lying back on my couch and sipping coffee while watching television. At least I wasn't stuck outside, up in a tree, battling the wind, snow and cold like those poor birds were.
I looked up some Bible references about singing, and this one struck me as interesting. It's in the book of Acts, and two missionaries, Paul and Silas, are in prison (after being severely beaten) for spreading the word about Jesus. They're in just about the worst pickle they could be in, and here they're found praying and singing. Singing! By the grace of God, they escaped prison that night and even managed to find a new believer in the jailer himself.
So, yesterday was another snow day for me. As in, I woke up to blowing snow and a ridiculously low wind chill... But I still had a reason to sing. If the birds can sing... if Paul and Silas could sing... then I certainly can find reason to refrain from complaints and find something to be thankful for instead.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
When I did finally get up, I took this picture off my front porch.
My poor car (which isn't a hatchback - it just looks like it from the snow piling up on the trunk) appeared to be frozen stiff. The wind was howling and blowing even more snow off my apartment roof. Snow from just a couple days prior was still piled up behind my car. I think my nose froze solid in the three and a half seconds I stood outside. The picture doesn't show very well that at this point, the snow was still falling pretty steadily. And then I heard it.
Birds.
Singing.
Seriously? I could hear all kinds of birds up in the trees (I didn't look for them, since I was trying to avoid hypothermia) singing up a storm (no pun intended). If I hadn't seen the snow or felt the cold temperature, I would have thought it was springtime. It stunned me (for that extra half second), and I stepped back inside my apartment just shaking my head.
Now, I don't speak Birdish, so maybe these flocks of birds were on the warpath and hurling insults at each other, but my imagination happily sits on the notion that these particular feathered creatures were part of a merry choir.
To be honest, it kind of made me think about my own attitude. I'm all for snow days, but I was on the verge of loathing a day stuck at home with a ton of work piling up at the office. But I was inside! Warm. Dry. Lying back on my couch and sipping coffee while watching television. At least I wasn't stuck outside, up in a tree, battling the wind, snow and cold like those poor birds were.
I looked up some Bible references about singing, and this one struck me as interesting. It's in the book of Acts, and two missionaries, Paul and Silas, are in prison (after being severely beaten) for spreading the word about Jesus. They're in just about the worst pickle they could be in, and here they're found praying and singing. Singing! By the grace of God, they escaped prison that night and even managed to find a new believer in the jailer himself.
So, yesterday was another snow day for me. As in, I woke up to blowing snow and a ridiculously low wind chill... But I still had a reason to sing. If the birds can sing... if Paul and Silas could sing... then I certainly can find reason to refrain from complaints and find something to be thankful for instead.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
2/3/15
PB&J - You had me at PB
I remember eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a kid. Anyone who doesn't, missed out, and I'm sorry. I don't recall ever being tired of these simple lunches, and I'm sure my parents were grateful as we survived on a very limited budget.
Now that I'm an adult, this is how I'm spending my lunch break:
Yep, a PB&J sandwich (and Cheetos, of course). When I first moved out on my own, there was one day I packed a PB&J sandwich for lunch, and my mom (who is also my coworker) was so concerned for me. She knew finances were tight as I juggled my income for the first time, and she was worried that that's all I could afford to eat. I had to laugh because though money was tight, my reason was because I liked this kind of sandwich.
And today I'm, once again, thoroughly enjoying the ooey-gooey goodness. (Do I dare admit that I was actually craving this, and that's why I brought it for my lunch today?)
My taste buds and I have a really good relationship with the simple things, besides PB&J. Take mashed potatoes, for example. I like instant better than the real thing. When it comes to macaroni and cheese, I'd rather have the generic brand over Kraft. I love canned chicken. Pasta? Put a little butter and parsley on it, and I'm happy.
I don't need a speech about processed foods - I get it. But I have to admit that my taste buds often do go for the unexpected. (Oh yeah, green beans is another one - I prefer canned over fresh. Go figure.)
I try to eat fairly responsibly, whether talking in terms of quality or quantity, but that doesn't override the fact that sometimes I do crave (and prefer) the "simpler" things. Maybe I like PB&J sandwiches because they're stuffed full of carbs, I don't know, but I think that I just enjoy it because it's quick, easy, and I do like the taste. (And as a bonus, it is cheap.)
I won't eat PB&J every day for multiple reasons, but I do consider it a treat, not a "I have to because that's all that was in my refrigerator" thing. Tomorrow? Who knows? You might find me dipping canned chicken in some ranch dressing. Or eating a whole can of green beans.
If I can't find enjoyment in the little things, I'll be up the proverbial creek when it comes to the big things. And once I think about it...it really is all in perspective, whether we're talking food or circumstances. I can find enjoyment in anything I really want to because I'm the only one in charge of my own attitude.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment. Do you have any weird food quirks?
Now that I'm an adult, this is how I'm spending my lunch break:
Yep, a PB&J sandwich (and Cheetos, of course). When I first moved out on my own, there was one day I packed a PB&J sandwich for lunch, and my mom (who is also my coworker) was so concerned for me. She knew finances were tight as I juggled my income for the first time, and she was worried that that's all I could afford to eat. I had to laugh because though money was tight, my reason was because I liked this kind of sandwich.
And today I'm, once again, thoroughly enjoying the ooey-gooey goodness. (Do I dare admit that I was actually craving this, and that's why I brought it for my lunch today?)
My taste buds and I have a really good relationship with the simple things, besides PB&J. Take mashed potatoes, for example. I like instant better than the real thing. When it comes to macaroni and cheese, I'd rather have the generic brand over Kraft. I love canned chicken. Pasta? Put a little butter and parsley on it, and I'm happy.
I don't need a speech about processed foods - I get it. But I have to admit that my taste buds often do go for the unexpected. (Oh yeah, green beans is another one - I prefer canned over fresh. Go figure.)
I try to eat fairly responsibly, whether talking in terms of quality or quantity, but that doesn't override the fact that sometimes I do crave (and prefer) the "simpler" things. Maybe I like PB&J sandwiches because they're stuffed full of carbs, I don't know, but I think that I just enjoy it because it's quick, easy, and I do like the taste. (And as a bonus, it is cheap.)
I won't eat PB&J every day for multiple reasons, but I do consider it a treat, not a "I have to because that's all that was in my refrigerator" thing. Tomorrow? Who knows? You might find me dipping canned chicken in some ranch dressing. Or eating a whole can of green beans.
If I can't find enjoyment in the little things, I'll be up the proverbial creek when it comes to the big things. And once I think about it...it really is all in perspective, whether we're talking food or circumstances. I can find enjoyment in anything I really want to because I'm the only one in charge of my own attitude.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment. Do you have any weird food quirks?
1/15/15
A Long Journey
I just made the official announcement on Facebook that my new devotion book, God at the Reins is now available to purchase. It has been...a long journey. And for my shortest book (just 112 pages), you'd think it wouldn't have taken me this many years to finally see it in print.
To be honest, it's been a struggle since the very beginning, with the first question of, "How many devotions do I include in this book?" It wasn't long before I landed on the number 52. That meant I had a lot of work to do...but also far less work than if I'd gone for a daily devotional of 365 - I wanted to create a new project, not a goal I couldn't accomplish.
Thinking up a total of 52 parallels between lessons learned with horses and life lessons as a Christian really wasn't as daunting as I'd first thought it might be. It was fun to actually put on paper what I'd discovered through years of horsemanship. Putting three passions together (writing, horses and my faith) was a good experience as always.
But then...I started running out of steam when I got somewhere around devotion number 30, and the project was set aside to make room for my other writing addictions. My novel, Discovering the Dawn, was published (while my devotion book was still waiting on me), as was my collection, Smatterings of an Analytical Loner, and my writer's guide, Under Construction. Somewhere in between all of that, I did manage to complete all 52 devotions ("complete" as in having them typed out). There were many, many long pauses between the first editing process, the second editing, the hunt for applicable Bible verses (which I finally "outsourced" to my mother [who is the editor of Daily Devotions for the Deaf, and a Bible guru] because by that point, my brain was all but fried completely).
Eventually, I had all of my text and all Bible verses together in one file. For all practical purposes, the manuscript itself was "done." I needed to start formatting - laying out all the pages, picking fonts, making everything look neat and tidy, etc. And...my heart just wasn't in it.
During the fall of 2013, my life changed in a way that affected this particular project - or at least the portion of my heart that was attached to the book. For the first time since childhood, I was without a horse. My life had evolved, and I was moving into town without the possibility of keeping my horse. She went to a loving home, and I knew it was for the best - I was very happy with where I was now living and my activities outside horsemanship. But whenever I would think about finishing my devotion book, it just hit a little too close to home. I missed horses too much to worry about completing the book.
Yet, it was an unfinished project, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's leaving something unfinished. I eventually set a new goal. The fall of 2014. That's when this book would be released. And... it didn't happen. I was able to find enough motivation to have the text proofed and to make all the final revisions that needed to be made. But the motivation was short-lived, and the book once again was left to sit. Until now.
Maybe it was the start of a new year. Maybe it was the frustration that I'd not yet met my goals with the devotions. Or, maybe it was simply the right time - God's time. No matter the reason, I knew I needed to finish God at the Reins. I set to work on all the layout and design elements - formatting all of the inside pages, creating a cover, and producing a graphic to spruce up the text. And for the first time since the idea's birth, it felt right.
Here's the thing: I left the devotions with their original perspectives. This means that when I talk about my horse, it's in the present. She is my horse on those pages, not was. I thought about rewriting all of the text to indicate I no longer have a horse at this current date. But even though God at the Reins is published in 2015, the devotions were written several years ago when I was much more involved with horses. And even though I may not have ownership of a horse right now, I have no idea what the future holds. I will forever be a horseman at heart, whether I'm able to feel the mighty animal move beneath me on a daily basis, or only on rare occasion.
The purpose of God at the Reins remains as it always has (regardless of whether or not I currently own a horse) - to provide some hope and inspiration to those who are curious about horses, those who simply enjoy the beauty of horses, or those who are actively involved with horses. The book is about life. About faith. About taking simple experiences with an animal and turning them into lessons that stick with us for a lifetime.
Each book I write takes me on some kind of journey. Maybe that's why I'm so addicted to this art. Each time I produce a newly published project, it is simply evidence of new ideas, inspiration, creativity and growth in some way, shape or form. Each book is covered in my fingerprints...and God at the Reins is no exception.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
To be honest, it's been a struggle since the very beginning, with the first question of, "How many devotions do I include in this book?" It wasn't long before I landed on the number 52. That meant I had a lot of work to do...but also far less work than if I'd gone for a daily devotional of 365 - I wanted to create a new project, not a goal I couldn't accomplish.
Thinking up a total of 52 parallels between lessons learned with horses and life lessons as a Christian really wasn't as daunting as I'd first thought it might be. It was fun to actually put on paper what I'd discovered through years of horsemanship. Putting three passions together (writing, horses and my faith) was a good experience as always.
But then...I started running out of steam when I got somewhere around devotion number 30, and the project was set aside to make room for my other writing addictions. My novel, Discovering the Dawn, was published (while my devotion book was still waiting on me), as was my collection, Smatterings of an Analytical Loner, and my writer's guide, Under Construction. Somewhere in between all of that, I did manage to complete all 52 devotions ("complete" as in having them typed out). There were many, many long pauses between the first editing process, the second editing, the hunt for applicable Bible verses (which I finally "outsourced" to my mother [who is the editor of Daily Devotions for the Deaf, and a Bible guru] because by that point, my brain was all but fried completely).
Eventually, I had all of my text and all Bible verses together in one file. For all practical purposes, the manuscript itself was "done." I needed to start formatting - laying out all the pages, picking fonts, making everything look neat and tidy, etc. And...my heart just wasn't in it.
During the fall of 2013, my life changed in a way that affected this particular project - or at least the portion of my heart that was attached to the book. For the first time since childhood, I was without a horse. My life had evolved, and I was moving into town without the possibility of keeping my horse. She went to a loving home, and I knew it was for the best - I was very happy with where I was now living and my activities outside horsemanship. But whenever I would think about finishing my devotion book, it just hit a little too close to home. I missed horses too much to worry about completing the book.
Yet, it was an unfinished project, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's leaving something unfinished. I eventually set a new goal. The fall of 2014. That's when this book would be released. And... it didn't happen. I was able to find enough motivation to have the text proofed and to make all the final revisions that needed to be made. But the motivation was short-lived, and the book once again was left to sit. Until now.
Maybe it was the start of a new year. Maybe it was the frustration that I'd not yet met my goals with the devotions. Or, maybe it was simply the right time - God's time. No matter the reason, I knew I needed to finish God at the Reins. I set to work on all the layout and design elements - formatting all of the inside pages, creating a cover, and producing a graphic to spruce up the text. And for the first time since the idea's birth, it felt right.
The purpose of God at the Reins remains as it always has (regardless of whether or not I currently own a horse) - to provide some hope and inspiration to those who are curious about horses, those who simply enjoy the beauty of horses, or those who are actively involved with horses. The book is about life. About faith. About taking simple experiences with an animal and turning them into lessons that stick with us for a lifetime.
Each book I write takes me on some kind of journey. Maybe that's why I'm so addicted to this art. Each time I produce a newly published project, it is simply evidence of new ideas, inspiration, creativity and growth in some way, shape or form. Each book is covered in my fingerprints...and God at the Reins is no exception.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
1/14/15
A Significant Doodle
Sometimes it really is the little things. You know - those things that seem trivial at the time, but then later grow far beyond what was expected.
The other day, during a meeting, I found myself doodling. (Not an uncommon occurrence at all.) On this particular day, I had a pen with blue ink and a pad of narrow white scrap paper. As I listened to what was being said, I found my fingers creating a couple of strangely intriguing flowers with petals of odd shapes and sizes, and stems made of triangles and squares. The wispy grass grew in whimsical curls, and an insect (related to a butterfly) flitted about with its triangular-shaped body. A ladybug came onstage at some point, although this one had a peculiar rectangle body instead of rounded, and antennas fit for its fantasy home world.
Later, as I actually took a moment to look at my blue-ink doodles, I realized that I kind of liked the scene. There was something about it that made me smile, and my mind's eye began filling in the spaces with colors and details I hadn't yet drawn. The doodle evolved into a living scene with motion, light and sound. There was a world there with undiscovered creatures, stars not of our own solar system, and a feeling of peaceful adventure.
Then the meeting started again, and my piece of scrap paper was again just a page with some blue-ink doodles.
Until I had time to sit at my computer and play.
The purpose? Just fun (and my rectangle ladybugs are doggone cute). I'm still working on different versions of the scene, adding new details, and am already using several images as wallpaper on my computer. It still makes me smile.
And it all started from a simple little doodle. Go figure.
Little things can't always be dismissed. They can't always go ignored as something that will never amount to anything else. Whether it's a doodle, a small idea, a kind word, a tiny seed of faith, or a simple smile - anything (and anyone) has the potential to become more. To become great. To become significant.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
The other day, during a meeting, I found myself doodling. (Not an uncommon occurrence at all.) On this particular day, I had a pen with blue ink and a pad of narrow white scrap paper. As I listened to what was being said, I found my fingers creating a couple of strangely intriguing flowers with petals of odd shapes and sizes, and stems made of triangles and squares. The wispy grass grew in whimsical curls, and an insect (related to a butterfly) flitted about with its triangular-shaped body. A ladybug came onstage at some point, although this one had a peculiar rectangle body instead of rounded, and antennas fit for its fantasy home world.
Later, as I actually took a moment to look at my blue-ink doodles, I realized that I kind of liked the scene. There was something about it that made me smile, and my mind's eye began filling in the spaces with colors and details I hadn't yet drawn. The doodle evolved into a living scene with motion, light and sound. There was a world there with undiscovered creatures, stars not of our own solar system, and a feeling of peaceful adventure.
Then the meeting started again, and my piece of scrap paper was again just a page with some blue-ink doodles.
Until I had time to sit at my computer and play.
The purpose? Just fun (and my rectangle ladybugs are doggone cute). I'm still working on different versions of the scene, adding new details, and am already using several images as wallpaper on my computer. It still makes me smile.
And it all started from a simple little doodle. Go figure.
Little things can't always be dismissed. They can't always go ignored as something that will never amount to anything else. Whether it's a doodle, a small idea, a kind word, a tiny seed of faith, or a simple smile - anything (and anyone) has the potential to become more. To become great. To become significant.
I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.
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