Category: Uncategorized

I’m here. I just haven’t been here lately. I apologize. Life has been busy. I just moved (same town, new home) and still haven’t fully unpacked. My days have been taken up by cardboard boxes.

I know that my website got hacked/spammed/whatever. My IT department (aka my hubby) has been working on it. We realized the site was down and decided to leave it down for a couple of weeks to try and deter the massive amounts of spam comments I was receiving daily. We got it up and running again, but are still working out a few kinks. My IT guy has also been consumed by the move.

I realized I have lost about a year of posts. I’ll be working on reposting all those in the near future. I had hoped to get that done about a month ago, but again, the move ate up most of my time. I have to find the back ups of my posts that I hopefully have somewhere (fingers crossed).

I also hope to get back to writing some new posts soon. In the meantime, enjoy this post that I shared on my other blog.

I found the following on my computer, buried among several other Word docs and random writing prompts. I’m not sure what prompted me to write it, or when I wrote it, but it still applies. 

Years ago, I took an online spiritual gifts test. One of my highest scoring gifts was mercy or compassion. I wasn’t too surprised. I “feel” for people and long to help the less fortunate, the discouraged, and the destitute. I spent three years of my life mothering and teaching African children and was fired up about the idea that I was empowering and enriching their lives.

For years, I worked in a retirement and assisted living facility. Part of my job was encouraging and loving on the widowed and the lonely. When I first started, I loved it. Years later, I felt absolutely drained from it.

As much as I long to help people, I also long to just be alone. Such is the problem for a mercy-gifted introvert. I want to help people, and yet being around them drains me. And I’m unsure of how to handle this dichotomy.

Lately, I feel more and more exhausted from more and more interactions with people. How do you reconcile what seems to be an extroverted spiritual gift with an introverted nature?

First, I need to simply realize that there is nothing wrong with me. I need time alone to recharge. I cannot fully serve others when I myself am feeling drained. Taking time to myself in the morning to prepare for my day helps. And, taking alone time at the end of a draining day is my reward.

Second, I’m finding ways that I can still serve others while being safely nestled amongst my introverted ways. Through writing, I’ve found that I can connect with and encourage people. And I can do it all from the comfort of my couch, snuggled under a blanket and without draining interaction amongst others.

Third, I need to rely on God. He has made me the way I am, and He didn’t make a mistake. He will provide the help along the way that I so desperately need. I too often forget how much prayer will help strengthen me. This little introvert has been spurred on by some incredibly extroverted moments, which I can only see being brought on by God.

I pray that I will continue to serve in ways that will encourage others as well as myself. I need to be true to who I am, the core of my being, all without draining the other core of who I am.

Today I’m reposting a blog from July 2012, mainly because I really need to be reminded of this.

Ever had one of those days where all you want to do is go home and hide under a blanket with a good strong drink? I have a lot of those days. The sad thing is that it’s usually just one incident that spoils every other good aspect of the day. I have a hard time overlooking that one bad thing.

One day I came home, fuming from the grumpiness that had overtaken me. As I pulled into the driveway, I climbed out of my car and noticed a little something on my deck chairs. A butterfly. Just chilling out and fluttering it’s wings quietly.

For a brief moment, I was able to put my annoyances from the day to the side. This calm little creature reminded me to do just as it was doing: calm down.

I believe that God places such things in my path to get my attention. Often, I’m so wrapped up in my seemingly deserved self-worth that I saunter right on past. The attention grabbing is usually done in very subtle ways; flowers in bloom, a cool breeze, warm sun rays on my face, a smile from a stranger, a comforting scent or sound.  I hate when I get to the point that I miss all of this.

In my favorite devotional, My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers states:

“In every wind that blows, in every night and day of the year, in every sign of the sky, in every blossoming and in every withering of the earth, there is a real coming of God to us if we will simply use our starved imagination to realize it.”

I think my imagination has been starved, because I feel as if I’m not picking up on much of this lately. Sadly, I walk right by every blossom and every withering, too self-absorbed to truly take it in and see God.

What a way to worship; noticing God in all the little things around me. I used to be good at this. A warm breeze would wash over my face and I’d close my eyes and raise my face to the heavens. Beautiful clouds in the sky made me thank God for His creativity. The sound of birds chirping brought a smile to my face.

Now I just plow right through my day, oblivious to the small signs that God places in my path everyday. I hate that. I pray that I can return to that childlike awareness and not miss those sweet, subtle signs.

Question: What was the last subtle sign God placed in your way?

I let life get the best of me and I forget to relish in the beautiful pieces. Music is one of those pieces. I too often forget to let it in.

My city put on a festival this weekend, a festival of words and music. It featured writers and musicians from all over. I heard about it, but didn’t really think much about it. I assumed it was a ticketed event. I have been carefully budgeting, and I didn’t think there was enough cash to allow for concert tickets.

Some of the bigger events were ticketed, like The Avett Brothers. I saw several Facebook posts of people who were at the concert. I regretted not getting tickets for the event, or at the very least, standing outside the gate of the outdoor amphitheater to hear some of the music. I told myself that next time, I would consider spending the money.

The next day, Drew and I were having a relaxing Saturday at home. It was drizzly and bleary outside, so we were cuddled on the couch, lazily watching TV. I did another half hearted scroll through my Facebook feed and ran across a post from Seryn, my favorite band. They were playing a concert at 4:00 p.m. at the festival in my hometown. How had I missed this?

My favorite band was playing in my town at 4:00 p.m. It was 3:30. My first thought was of utter disappointment. I was going to miss my favorite band play. I assumed it was too late to go. Tickets were probably sold out. But then I remembered the regret I felt at not going to The Avett Brothers concert. Drew looked at me and said, “Go.”

So I did. I threw on a pair of flip flops and headed out in my yoga pants and t-shirt. I got there a few minutes after 4:00 and discovered that the concert was free. It had been moved inside because of the rain. I ran toward the venue and was happy to find that Seryn was still setting up. It was in a small room with florescent lights and about eight rows of chairs.

The show was completely unplugged, with only one microphone. They turned off the overhead lights, and there were no spotlights or stage lights. There was no stage. They played by the sunlight that streamed in through the window.

The last time I saw Seryn, it was on a big stage with fancy lights and a fancy sound system. They played and sang their hearts out. They put every ounce of passion they had into that show.

They did the same thing in that dimly lit room. They gave everything they had. It didn’t matter if there was 30 or 300 people there.

I was inspired, energized, encouraged. I can’t tell you how happy I am that music will still do that in my life. After being calloused and jaded for so long, it’s wonderful to feel my heart still soften at the strum of a guitar.

This post has been sitting in my draft folder for a couple months. I decided it was time to hit publish.

I’m always way behind the times when it comes to movies. The hubby and I finally got around to watching Noah. And I gotta say, I really liked it.

I had grown weary of seeing Facebook posts denouncing the movie, calling it heretical. I knew that it deviated from the Bible, but I thought some of the flack it was getting was a little much. The Bible is incredibly devoid of detail in so many stories. It’s impossible to create a big screen version by sticking strictly to the original script.

After seeing it, here are my thoughts:

• Movies are a form of art. Filmmakers create films to bring beauty, laughter, depth, and thought to the world. I thought Noah was a beautiful work of art.
• The film went way off script. WAY off. I get why people were greatly offended. It was like the Bible meets Lord of the Rings. But I don’t know; it worked for me. When I read the Old Testament, I always kind of visualize the characters as Aragorn.
• Noah was not meant to be a Biblical retelling of the story. I believe the intent was to look at it from a different angle. What if Noah really did think the flood was God’s way of wiping out all of humanity with no intent to rebuild?  What if he believed he was given the burden of ensuring that mankind would not continue on?
• I really appreciated the way the film showed the dark side of the story. So often Noah’s ark is reduced to a happy nursery rhyme with sweet little animals marching two by two. The film showed the utter despair and darkness that had fallen over the world. It showed an achingly intense picture of how depraved humanity had become. And when Noah and his family sat inside the ark and listened to the screams of terror outside, it broke my heart. The flood killed everyone. There’s not much happiness in that.
• The emotions portrayed by the characters was beautiful. Love, loyalty, anger, regret, hatred. It showed the scope of human nature so well. And Emma Watson. I just adore her.
• The camerawork (cinematography?) was amazing. I was so struck by the time lapse scenes. There were simply no words.

The film wasn’t the greatest film ever, but it was good. You may not agree with it, but there is beauty to be found in it. And maybe instead of simply becoming offended, we can use the film as a starting point for conversation with others. Let’s talk about what we didn’t like or what we did like. Share why the true story of Noah impacts you. Or why it doesn’t.

After watching the film, I’m inspired to reread some Old Testament stories. It reminded me of the amazing stories there are to be found there. That certainly isn’t a bad thing.

I’ve been MIA for awhile. I still have not been able to find much time or energy to write, but I’m grateful that this space and a couple readers are still here. I don’t always have much to say, but I’m glad I can still come back here.

I ran across this blog on Facebook, and the author’s thoughts sum up my feelings so well. I miss hymns and their depth, and it makes me sad that so many churches are moving away from them entirely. I love this guy’s way of ensuring that hymns don’t die in his church.

I hope all is well in your world.

Well hello, old friend.

I’m sorry I’ve let so much time go by. It’s my fault, really. Hectic schedules and utter exhaustion have gotten the better of me. It’s no excuse, but it’s all I’ve got.

I forgot how nice it is to spend time with you. Even the bitter stinging on my fingertips fades away as I let my mind focus on your sweet chords. Your music brings peace to my soul. And as I play songs that I wrote with you, strumming and picking notes until the right ones fell into place, my heart smiles.

I’m sorry I’ve run away from you, shying away from the time that I know makes me happier. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s because sometimes the music I try to write feels like it tears out a piece of me. Some days I don’t have it in me. It’s easier to lose myself in mindless TV.

Maybe it’s from comparing myself to others who are more diligent, more dedicated than I. I grow frustrated and hopeless, telling myself I’ll do better tomorrow.

Maybe it’s the fact that my ear continues to plague me, making music difficult. I hate to be reminded of that, so I let it beat me. And then I feel worse.

Whatever the reason, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve let you sit collecting dust and slowly drifting out of tune. And I will try harder. I know it won’t be everyday, but I promise to pick you up more.

Because music runs too deep in my soul not to.

I am still alive.

I have thought of this blog often. I’m trying to figure out if I should continue it, or if perhaps it’s chapter has closed. Some days it feels like it has run its course. I don’t feel quite ready to be done with it, and I certainly don’t feel done with blogging. But with the time I have found to write lately, I have devoted it to the book I’ve been poring over for the past three or so years. I hope to be able to share it soon.

I don’t feel like making a decision on the outcome of my blog quite yet, so for now I’ll just share an update on my life as of late.

Life has been full lately. Good, but full. Lots of work, with more than the occasional overtime thrown in. Although exhaustion follows, I am extremely grateful for the paycheck that follows shorty thereafter. The extra money has been helping with the goal of paying down debt and storing up our savings.

The hubby and I have had some serious discussions lately involving the future. Every year or so, we return to the topic of children. We’re approaching our sixth anniversary, and have greatly enjoyed the child free life so far. That nurturer in me rears up every now and again, so we sit down and have the kiddo talk.

The girl in me swoons at the thought of soft baby skin, gentle coos, and cute little socks. But as we discuss the rest of what babies entail, we both shudder at the thought of poopy diapers, sleepless nights, and wearing infant vomit out in public. We watch the parents of newborns and toddlers and see the zombie expressions. We hear parents lament the lost sleep on Saturday mornings. I know that part of parenting is only a season, but we wonder if it’s a season we want.

Drew used to joke, “Let’s adopt a teenager, try it out for a few years, and see if we like it.” It started out as a joke, but then the more we discussed it, the better that idea sounded.

Drew did some research, and we found out a lot about adoption we didn’t know. We found out the State of Florida often gives a small stipend for the adoption of special needs children. A special needs child can be someone with a physical, mental, or emotional handicap, African American or racially mixed, or over the age of 8.

A child over the age of 8 is considered special needs.

Older children are simply not wanted. Florida is doing all it can to encourage the adoption of these children. The more Drew and I talked, the more we felt led to the adoption of an older child. Sure, a baby sounds fun, and we’d be totally blessed by it. But the more I think about adopting one of these older children, the more my heart opens and softens. I believe we are called to this.

We’re a ways off. There are classes to take, background checks, home studies. Right now, we’re focusing energy on finding a home with a little more room. We could probably fit a third body in our current home, but it would be cramped. So we’re spending our time looking at open houses.

And I’m praying. I’m praying for that child that someday will be able to call our crazy little family unit home.

I miss tight hugs from people who understand me.

I miss being surrounded by people that I feel comfortable with, people that I can truly exhale and relax around.

I miss feeling excited about getting together.

I miss the warmth that fills a room.

I even miss being with people who I don’t agree with, who challenge me.

And yet, I still feel scared to fully engage in community. I still feel exhausted, overdrawn, and spread too thin. I’m still tender. I’d rather stay snuggled on the couch, reading a book, close to my husband. It feels safer there.

But the fact that I miss it, long for it; that gives me hope. And with that hope, I’ll move forward.