Look Up.

Today, I am thankful for the sky.  For the perspective that it offered on my morning commute.  I've been churning a lot inside and looking at myself a lot.  And as I was driving, I cognitively told myself, "Look up!  Your God is bigger than you have made him out to be!"  And I looked up.  And I smiled.  Clouds smoldered with the morning grays and brought perspective in the vastness.  My God is so big. My life and thoughts and self are so small.  His wisdom, ability, sovereignty, and strength are only reflected in slight through that expanse of sky.  My God is so big; I just need to learn to look up.

Things I Didn't Know I Wanted.

I find myself wishing, envying.... everything.  Things I didn't even know I wanted.

I wanted to live in Africa, in a hut, ministering to the local women and children.

I wanted to be a mother, and have children who I loved and prayed and nurtured over in my home.

I wanted to be a friend, who sat with tea and cookies and listened and cared.

These are the things I wanted. These are the things my life geared toward, motioned into,  and fostered forward for.

But now I find myself in several months of looking and listening and hearing... and coveting.

I see houses so big and broad that they feel empty or boasting, now decorated in my head.

I notice cars that before seemed frivolous, now on my have-to-have list.

I see children and women and families dressed perfection, now idealized in my plan.

I live in South Charlotte.  I roam in circles of wealth and find their norm becoming my concept of common.  I gloat over their money, their families, their homes.  And paint it as my dreams aimed for reality.

Which then leaves me struggling, straining, and strangled.  Strangled by dreams that aren't mine.  Struggling against values that I don't hold.  Straining for wealth I won't attain.  Striving for things I didn't know I wanted, and I don't want.

The Flip Side.

I feel like I've been writing a lot of Eeyore-type posting, slightly ho-hum with a saddened bent to them.  So I'm trying to offer a bit of balance to those with a few pictures of what else is going on in life this fall...  of goodness.

 

 Labor Day weekend games with our family.

 Our new adventures: biking the greenways, near home, and getting outside...

 Of course:  fall brings USC

 Trips with friends: here at Lazy 5 with Daniel and Lauren

New BFFs (who went back to South Africa now): Kendra & Daniel.  

What fun we had so often with them!

When Family Lives Close.

When family lives close...

You stop byfor Saturday morning baking with niece and nephew.

When family lives close...

You call up Aunt Ruth for to schedule game night for two.

When family lives close...

You drop by Grandmas on a Sunday afternoon.

When family lives close...

You arrive on Aunt Pat's doorstep, hosting dinner for you.

When family lives close...

You boat with your siblings or take kids to the zoo.

When family lives close...

You meet parents for dinner, and Sunday lunch too.

When family lives close...

You have places and spaces

Always and immediately

Open to you.

You have hugs ever-waiting

And bonds ever-present

And people you love, who love you,

Close.

Oh how many days don't I wish that family lives close...

Prayer Works.

Trish and I read an incredible, instant classic last summer that melted itself into our heart and life.  A Praying Life by Paul E. Miller was intentional, narrative, poetic, simple, and profound all in one little blue wrapping.  But its impact on my life has far left the words scrolled on pages, and moreso imprinted itself in my world.

I was reminded of it last night, when my dear friend and Charlotte dad, J.D. Lawson was talking about prayers and tithing and money and philanthropy and hardship.  At a time in their life when tithing made the least 'sense', they started.  They were married and out of the military and now new Christians, when financially everything seemed to collapse.  But they felt called and convicted, so the giving began.

In the same season, he was alongside the road and his car broke down.  He was so angry he shoved the door open, smacked it closed, and hissed at the engine.   Then, in one movement he laid his hand on the engine and prayed over it, got back in the car and chugged away.  It wasn't until he stopped at the stop sign that he realized his car was even working.  And... prayer was working.

I left last nights table full of thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving for the comfort of the home of my Charlotte mom and dad, whose door is always open and in whose arms I can always find a hug.  Thanksgiving for the friendships that seem always available and open handed and happy and rejoicing in me.  And thanksgiving for the reminder that prayer does work, and God is involved in life, and Christians can encourage the faithful.

Thank you, JD, for being the faithful and encouraging me with your stories, and prayer.