I’m all into lists right now. I’m pretty sure it’s because they give me a false-sense of order in this “growingly-chaotic” season of life (I know that’s not a grammatically correct phrase, but my brain is suffering the effects…):
What inspires you?
We’ve gotten a few reports of healing in our church on Sunday. I don’t know how else to say it than like that. We had an extended time of prayer during our service. And something happened.
Let me provide the context for that starting sentence: We are a contemporary UMC congregation that is growing rather quickly. We’re a t-shirt & jeans kind of church, with a praise band and practical teaching. Not so much “charismatic” but we do believe that God can do (and is doing) incredible things today. And we offer opportunities for our congregation to intersect with this God in a real way. As the staff person to oversee planning of the services, I knew a moment was coming Sunday. We’d allotted a good 15 minutes for people to respond to the sermon by praying–in whatever fashion they desired. And we invited those who wanted prayer for whatever reason, including healing, to come forward.
And when the moment came I thought: I’m a candidate for healing. My body is broken. Infertile. Mysteriously lacking. But I’ve already asked for this. Often. And Drew still prays for this. A lot of people do. And it hasn’t happened. And there’s been ample opportunity for something to happen. And I’m ok with the fact that it hasn’t happened. I’m ok. I’m in the “acceptance” phase of grief, I guess.
I left that thought in the seat and, instead, took my place behind my guitar… In coming to the place of acceptance, I think I’ve stopped wanting/wondering for things to be different. I don’t know if that’s right or wrong, but it’s where I am.
Then I heard about some of the healings that took place on Sunday…
Why not me? Ok. Fine. “Ye have not because ye ask not.” whatever. I asked I asked I asked I asked.
My only response is to continue to accept.
1) My therapist called. I was in the middle of writing a song. I sacrificed remembering the melody in order to answer the phone. It was that or forget the melody while stressing over why in the world my therapist was calling.
2) When your therapist calls to ask if you know anyone who can offer technical assistance with a project and you say you can help and then she asks again and again if you’re sure you can help because you have a lot on your plate, you start to doubt yourself. And you might panic just a bit that you made the wrong decision and should’ve given her some names instead.
3) One way I lower my stress level is by raising my heart rate and happy brain chemicals. I get on my elliptical and try to stay on it as long as I can. This was difficult until I started watching Alias while on the elliptical. Then I didn’t want to get off the elliptical. When Sydney moves, I move. When the music picks up the pace, I pick up the pace. Find what works and do it.
4) Of course they got rid of Russell… He didn’t stand a chance this season. But I can’t believe he cried. I stream episodes of Survivor while doing laundry, because I’m not much of a domestic goddess and I need a little assistance. It works for me.
5) We’ve always had a weekly date night–it’s a non-negotiable in our marriage. The tired introvert in me often ruins any outings he may have planned, but I’m always up for quality time. Last week, he scored big: a quiet walk on a solitary stretch of beach, then a trip to the grocery store to take care of my slightly neglected shopping list. While there, he made an event of buying dinner. I was to pick the first item/ingredient of the meal–he selected the second–I grabbed the third, et cetera. Dinner was a delicious adventure.
6) If I stop buying Salt&Vinegar potato chips, I might not eat them as often.
Any self-improvement tips you want to share?
two of my friends have been kidnapped. for days. and the kidnapper just left a string of creepy comments on my blog. luckily, the creepy commenter-stalker left a comment the monday before the kidnapping, and included the email address with the name “eduardo” in it. so, “eduardo” it is.
I see a man in a black shirt & blue jeans climbing a tree outside the window.
Eduardo has come for me. [insert general panic here]
someone in the house finds & stops him. but, he is a middle-aged woman. and she is furious at me for not replying to comments. so I explain. “I knew when I first started blogging that I would not be able to make everyone happy. This is one of those moments. And it doesn’t reflect how much I do value the conversation & interaction with readers–it’s my favorite part of blogging, but I can’t do anything differently with this.”
something about that speech wins her over.
[jump to the future]
she lives in the Nashville area. and, during a trip to visit my BFF, I go to see “eduardo-ette” too. we’d become friends, maybe…? [skipping a few fuzzy and unimportant details] while at her house, someone steals everything out of my purse, including $100 cash (which I never have in real life), my credit card, and iPhone. there are a lot of teenagers at her house, so I suspect them. we get online to track my phone (bc it’s smart like that) and discover it is traveling at a car-speed away from her house.
she says it’s the guy that works on her car. he was just leaving.
that’s when I for-real panic. i get all upset & say “I’m sorry. this is just too much. all of this happening at once.” [insert panic attack]
Something in my brain flipped the “this is only a dream” switch, which automatically popped my eyes right open. Heart pounding. Ok. That was just a dream.
I must’ve fallen asleep after the two hours that I spent laying there wondering why I wasn’t asleep, what I was going to do with my blog on Mondays, and if two friends of mine would like to go on a blind date together.
My blog predicament? Well, nearly half of you voted for Mondays, twice as many votes for Monday than for any other day… Sheesh. I’ve set aside Monday as sacred-songwriting-and-solitude day. So, what’s the problem? I can still put a post up, right? Well. Sorta. See, like in the dream, my favorite element of blogging is the interaction. The Comments–and so many of you are faithful to talk back to me.
So. If I post on Mondays, I’ve gotta stay away from the comments until *at least* 4:30pm my time–and you’ve gotta keep me to that commitment… Is that ok with you? (Please vote. I’ll be back at 4:30 to see what y’all have to say!)
My prayer is not that You would speak, but that I would hear You.
