Race Against Myself

This morning my family and I went in to visit PG Interns for a time of worship and then because my husband was speaking to them during class time. It is always so nice to get to be together with other Christians who are growing and challenging themselves. Our friend Daryl shared out of 1 Corinthians 9:24 where it speaks of life as a race and of running in such as way to win the crown. Even though all run, not everyone wins. The concept was brought up that we are not racing each other, but rather, racing ourselves.

Later Bryan talked about being careful not to live comparing yourself to others, striving to just be like someone else.

In the past I have really dealt with this issue, sometimes having to habitually take captive certain thoughts that would divide and estrange me from my friends whom I admired. My admiration too easily could turn into coveting: trying to take a quality from them for myself when God wanted instead to help me develop it on my own! Every so often, I still battle this tendency.

However, this morning I started thinking about how often I compare who I am today with who I was a few years ago. I still don't have a conclusion, but I have thoughts.

For a few years I was involved in discipleship schools and in this environment my spirit seemed to be constantly challenged, and more than that. It felt like every time I was challenged by the Word of God a poem would spring from my heart or an art project would suddenly find inspiration and depth. I cried and laughed all of the time. I would journal morning and night to the point that my friends would tease about this unusual "anointing". I found green pastures to sit in and dreams to blow on like dandelions gone to seed. In my memory, most moments contained lyrics to the next acoustic classic.

And a couple years have passed. Today it seems like my life is so full of what I used to dream of that I don't have as much time to wrestle or cry or write. Sometimes I don't even know what is going on inside my mind. Bryan asked me a bit over a month ago, "How was your day, apart from feeding schedules and nap times?"

- - blank stare - - that was my response. 

So, my formulated thought. Am I still changing? Am I still being challenged to grow into the image of Christ? Still dreaming? Repenting? Do I still learn lessons from strangers or from sun piercing the sky? 

Is He still proud of me? 

I think that is really my question. And I don't want any well-meaning human to place a hand on my shoulder and comfort me or give me excuses. 

"You DO have twins."

"Your life is a little busy these days."

It isn't about what my hands are doing but what my heart is doing. I need to hear Him. I miss having the opportunity to plug my ears to the chaotic traffic. Maybe I just miss making those opportunities.

I will not settle for an average little life. Oh, it may look average to you when I'm grocery shopping, folding laundry, or making rice and chicken for dinner. On a deeper level, I am going to open up my heart to the Life-Giver. Deep calls out to deep. I hope He knows.

Passion is proven by pursuit. Lord, help me. Change me.

Out of a coma

You know, every once in a while, it is as though I come out of a coma, look around me and think, "Wow, How did I get here?" Two bedroom basement suite. Our oven in our pretty kitchen, our lamp, and our coffee table that my man crafted. Ample space for all our needs, plus a little more. 

I look at the man who I call "hun" & "baby" & "B". Amazing that it has been 15 months since we joined forces and made 'er official. 

Then, I look at the two little boys that occupy so much of my heart's territory and whose tiny belongings somehow get scattered to every corner by the end of every day. Socks. Soothers. Blankets. Books.

"How did I get here?"

Seems like I waited forever in a line-up to live the life that I am now engulfed in. I married at 22 years old. Still just a young one, but you may not know how many days of dying it took to get me here. So many others before me have lived in basement suites, had husbands, and had babies. But, you may not understand. This is what I prayed for and cried for, then surrendered and gave up on.

I turned myself in and admitted that I would rather be lonely and full than married and empty. And I am grateful to say that I am married and full. 

No Deceit

Lately, I've been thinking about how I need to up my level of vulnerability. With people that I trust, but more specifically, with people that I don't. Is this along the lines of loving not only your friends (why should you get credit for that?), but also your enemies? I don't really have enemies. Who would pick a fight with me? The closest thing I have to an enemy is when I don't know what the other person thinks of me.

Somehow that feels like walking on unfriendly territory.

I work so hard to protect myself. Selective revealing of my heart to those that will appreciate the particular morsel. You want to talk about God? I'll talk about God. You want to talk about T.V. shows. Me too. Recipes. I just found one the other day... I've always been quick to accomodate and sympathize with every situation. I consider it a strength, but within this strength is the seed for its own destruction.

I'm not fake. I'm just careful. I don't lie. But, according to 1 Peter 2:1, I am deceiving. That sounds worse.

"So be done with every trace of wickedness (depravity, malignity) and all deceit and insincerity (pretense and hypocrisy) and grudges (envy, jealousy) and slander and evil speaking of every kind." (Amplified version)

Be done with every trace of deceit and insincerity. Tell the truth. How am I really feeling today? What do I really think about that situation? If we can always get along, then you won't have to neglect me on purpose. But if I don't reveal myself, you won't be accepting or neglecting anything of substance. Help me, God. To be transparent. To be strong. To be humble.

I want friends that can see the dust on my shelves and the fingerprints on my glass table top. That know what I look like without makeup and see my hair before those awkward fly away pieces are straightened out. And to know they are coming over to see me, not to see a reflection of themselves.