nancy drew-itis

A good story is all I need...I have a good imagination and I'm not afraid to use it.

I have always loved a good book and through the years have found creative ways to incorporate a book in when I didn't like the alternative. I can remember reading "The Magic Kite" by flashlight while under a mound of covers at night. I think it was confiscated for a short while (during which I was dying to know what happened after they ran out of the magic glue!) and I might remember being told that I wasn't to read at night again, but I think I forgot it at the time. Homework was nicely spiced up by tucking a book somewhere close. It was very important to have a bookmark handy for these times- I had to work quick. And now, well, that basket of laundry can wait...

There are down sides to having a good imagination, though. "The Velveteen Rabbit" was a good read, but after it I was quite convinced that toys actually came alive at night. "Charlotte's Webb" made me believe that pigs, spiders and rats have real feelings. There were others too, which tugged at my heartstrings and opened my eyes...

Nancy Drew mysteries were my weakness. Once I opened the cover- I was hooked. No matter what the situation- she was perfect. No matter how scary or awful the mystery was- she could solve it. She always stayed perfectly calm, looked perfectly wonderful, drove the perfectly coolest car, could do anything more perfectly than anyone else...and through it all she escaped the bad guys and brought the mysteries to light. It's been a long time since I've opened the cover of a Nancy Drew mystery novel, and I really don't remember any of the mysteries she solved, but I still have Nancy Drew-itis. It's not a rare disorder...it just happens to go by other names too.

It seems logical to me that I should be able to tell my head that Nancy Drew is fictional. She's a relative of Betty Crocker. Her perfection is nothing more than a few good sounding words that somebody else dreamed up. But with those words, I've created a picture in my mind, for myself, that simply isn't...it isn't real, it isn't attainable. And yet, I strive...and stress...and ruin perfectly good things telling myself that "good" isn't "perfect." I will always disappoint myself.

A friend asked me to consider how I thought of myself...about the mistakes I thought God made when He created me. It sounds really sad to think of it that way...and yet, it's basically what I've been telling God and myself through my "need" for perfection. She challenged me to make a list of the gifts God has given me and to thank Him for them. It's a good place to start. I realize I need to figure out a healthy way to embrace God's design of me so that I can teach my daughter how wonderfully and marvelously He made her too. I can clearly see a masterpiece before my eyes in her...

My newest favorite books are biographies and other non-fiction stories. There seems to be more of a draw for me to see the inner workings of another person's heart and life instead of dreaming along with something that someone else thought up. Maybe it's time to pick up a little fiction and fire up my imagination...live in the moment, dream a little.

With book in hand she skipped off....

Haaa will be 2!

To Haaaa...
who patiently waited for me to be born and then cried with me when I entered the world
who showed me how to crawl, walk and eat
who shares her really cute clothes with me
whose pictures decorate my kitchen cupboard so I can see her sweet face every day
who gets a little scared when we play because I take all the toys
who I miss terribly because she lives so far away...

Happy Birthday to you my sweet cousin!
Love- Evie

grace

People are very interesting. We all have ideas, ways we do things, ways we think other people should do things...there are so many versions of "normal."

God is very creative....it intrigues me to think that He makes people in His image and yet we are all so vastly different- so interesting. 

I was one of those interesting people today. You know, one of those people you see as you are sitting at a stoplight and just happen to glance at the driver of the car beside you. I love to see what people do at stoplights...pick their nose, check their hair or makeup, stare straight ahead with both hands on the wheel. I was not doing any of those things- I was talking. I was talking out loud, with determination and conviction. I was doing a battle with the enemy. In the face of doubt, fear and discouragement I was proclaiming God's truths. God you are faithful! God you are sovereign! God you will not forsake me! God I can trust you! Sometimes the truth seems far more compelling if you speak it...throw it in the face of those doubts and fears.

I didn't even look beside me to see if I had an audience...but if I did, I'm sure it looked very entertaining. 

I had an experience with an interesting person, well a few persons, today. Evie and I made a stop at the local Salvation Army to check for bargains.Not much to be had today, although we were very impressed by the new layout. They could still use some help with pricing, but let's be patient...one improvement at a time. Our trip back to our car was much more exciting. A large pickup truck had parked behind me and a lady was standing beside my car staring at my bumper. She was pointing and talking to herself. Curious, and also because she was standing beside the door I needed to open to put Evie in her carseat, I came to see what the fuss was all about. There, pressing in my rear bumper, was a large hook thing from the front of the large truck. She muttered then waved for her husband to back up the car. Devoid of any expression, he stared straight ahead for a while before putting the car in drive and moving his truck (and my car) forward. Lots of arm waving now ( I think my arms might have waved too) and his truck stopped. It seemed a while before reverse was engaged and the giant hook was removed. The animated lady muttered about things being alright before licking her thumb and rubbing it over the dents in my bumper. She did not have magic thumbs (or spit) but thankfully, the bumper lost the large dimp and showed a few scratches. As I put Evie in her car seat, a fellow parking lot-ter came over to offer her assistance....how kind of her. I assured her we were fine...although I'm still not sure how true that is....

It's all those interesting things (and people) that can help make life laughable...laughter is a gift (and good medicine).

My mom has a saying on her fridge "people behave in a way that makes sense to them." How true that is...and perhaps a little convicting. God made us so different...and yet His love for us is unconditional and very much the same. It's easy to look at interesting people through my eyes and make judgements based on what I think. And that's where grace comes in...it's a one size fits all....

in the classroom of life...

Let's begin class with a pop quiz today...it's just one question- so answer carefully.

What is more challenging?
a) to experience suffering
b) to watch someone you love experience suffering
c) both a & b...at the same time
d) to eat green eggs and ham

I would venture to guess that this question either hits home with you right now or that you can very clearly recall a time you have already experienced this. (There is no right or wrong answer to this question...you passed the test)

I am lying on my couch today, thankful that my busy toddler is snug in her bed (filled to overflowing with stuffed animals...just as she likes it) fast asleep. It was a late night and an early morning for me so I'm sleepy today. Just as I laid my head on my pillow last night I was struck with a bad case of active-mind-itis which raged on until about 2:30 a.m.. This morning at 6:30, as the alarm sounded, I thought of how lovely it would be for that active-mind-itis to return and give me a little jolt to get up and out of bed. It didn't, but I still managed to pull myself out from under my snuggly covers to ready myself for the day (and the early test I had scheduled at the hospital). I did make it in time and ate a delicious bowl of radioactive eggs before snuggling up on a hard plastic table to lay still for 2 hours. It wasn't so bad- I made it. It's always after the test that gets me. "No side effects" means that I will probably feel awful for the rest of the day- which is proving true thus far.

It is really hard to watch someone that I love suffer. I think I've cried more tears for them then for me lately. I want to make it all better. But I can't...for the same God that allows my afflictions has allowed theirs. Rips my heart out...

My hope colored glasses fell off this morning...where did they go?

hope-colored glasses

A hand reaches out from under the warm covers and stretches toward the little table beside the bed. Patting the top gently, the hand knows exactly what its "feeling" for. The hand picks up....glasses. 

All of my days begin this way. Without my glasses- I'm hopeless. And when I put them on instantly I can see again. It's almost a miracle of sorts. I wonder what it must have felt like for those whom Jesus healed. They were blind, sick, desperate and in an instant- seeing, whole, joyful! 

Life has been a bit desperate and discouraging lately. I wish Jesus would come and touch the struggles and the hurts and heal them. We pray, fully trusting that God could change it all- but He doesn't. And so it becomes a perspective thing...where we have to pray that God gives us new eyes to look at the same situation. Not the false rosy glow of denial or self-reliance but the peace and joy of hope-colored glasses. 

What do hope-colored glasses look like?  I paint the picture in my mind...horn rimmed, pale pink, maybe a rhinestone or two. If I'm going to be wearing these things all the time I would like them to be cute and fun. I'm putting them on and taking a look in the mirror. Not bad, although I find it fascinating that they seem to keep my eyes focused upward. 

What changes through these lenses? 

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction (evidence) of things not seen."Heb 11:1

Being confident that what I know to be true about God IS really true- despite what my feelings or circumstances tell me...

"...and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory." 1 Peter 1:8

There is joy to be found in this dark and silent place because He IS here...

"...while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal but the things which are not seen are eternal." II Corinthians 4:18

I can raise my eyes above the hopelessness to see a God at work

"For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But, if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it." Romans 8:24-25

If I know that God's gospel is true- I can trust that His promises are true.

"Now He who prepared us for this very purpose is God, who gave to us the Spirit as a pledge, therefore, being always of good courage, and knowing that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord, for we walk by faith not by sight, we are of good courage." II Corinthians 5:5-7

I can close my eyes, put my hand in the hand of my Savior and step forward in full confidence...

I like the view from here. It's so against the nature of myself to see the unseen and feel hopeful about that. Jeepers, these glasses don't stay on very well -is it my design or just the nature of these sort of things? I'm holding them up...I can't let go for a second. But that's okay- I think it's the only way I'll see my way through this....

1-He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

2-I will say to the Lord,"My refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust!"

3-For it his He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper and from the deadly pestilence

4-He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you may seek refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark...

15-He will call upon Me, and I will answer him, I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him.

Psalms 91

mercy

One building. So many stories. Sitting in the family lounge with my mom I hear a lullaby play softly in the hall. The  lady sitting across the room from us talking about her dying mother in room 216 while a new life breaths it's first breath a few floors above us. Such sorrow and such amazement so close together.

We chat for a while. The poor lady talks about how she likes to cook, the day she lost her 21 year old son, her brother's health issues, the process of watching her mom pass on and how she wonders why life is so full of sorrow. She tells us how she is so confused about why we are even alive. "Couldn't we all just be spirits floating about without bodies that get sick and hurt and die?" We tell her about the amazingness of heaven- an eternity with God and how we need to know Jesus to get there. The suffering of this earth is not to be compared with the glory that lies ahead. But we don't know how to say more...to share the gospel. And so we talk more about life...and tell her that we are so thankful she shared her story with us. And she leaves to go back to room 216.

I still see her face in my mind and kick myself for not saying more.

A little time with Joyce before I leave. She is uncomfortable and sad that the dinner coming for her is not the one she wanted- but clear and liquid instead. She cries. I lean in and stroke her hair..telling her that I love her, that Evie loves her, that we are praying for her. "It's not fair!" No, sweetie...it's not.

Driving home...I think I could put my car on autopilot and it would take me too and from Mercy. I've come and gone but some people live there...at least for a while.

Home again...greeted with a warm embrace and by little girl who cries "Mama!" She dances about with her onesie unsnapped and hanging outside of her flowery pants. Daddy tells me that she looked that way when he picked her up from her nap. And such a nap it was...during which she managed to take apart her window shade.

I remember the day when the lullaby played softly for her...