100% Chance

Last night, just before I went to sleep, I checked out the forecast for today. Rain, rain, lots of rain. And the chance of that rain? 100%. I laughed to myself, skeptic that I am. 

I imagined my conversation with the Weather Channel meteorology experts:  

ME:  "100%? Really? So, what you're saying is, you would bet your life that it's going to rain. You know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it will - for certain - rain. And there's not even a slim chance, not even a half of a percent, that it might not."  

TWC:  "No. It will rain. For sure. Without a doubt."

ME:  "Ok. So...on the very slight chance that it does not rain, I'm daring you. It MUST rain, and rain hard, or you MUST play in traffic butt-naked for 3 minutes. Are you THAT certain it will rain?" 

TWC:  "I'll take your dare. I am THAT certain."

ME:  "Wow. Ok." to myself, "I wish I was that certain about more things." 

That's all. 

In the Air

Tonight, as I came out of Wal-Mart, bags strung up my arms as usual, feeling particularly distressed with the current moment of life, I breathed deeply. A familiar smell filled the atmosphere and overwhelmed my senses, bringing me such comfort. It had just rained, a soft and quick spring shower, and the air was thick with the smell of orange blossoms. If I could do anything, I would contain that smell somehow and send it to you. 

The aroma always takes me back to my very first spring here. I immediately find myself on a bus, surrounded by elementary kids, driving country roads through orange groves in Frostproof. They smelled like orange cookies to me then. And that Spring was difficult:  my first year so far from family, struggling so badly to discover who I was, feeling completely out of place. I felt as adolescent on that bus as I did my very own elementary school bus. 

The fragrance of orange blossoms beckoned my attention away from myself. God had put such beauty around me and He was calling me to see it, sense it. It was unlike anything I had experienced in West Virginia (which, when I think about it, smells a little more like dirt and leaves :). And now, those fragrant orange blossoms always mark for me, almost more than anything else, a new year. Each time I smell them, I think about how close Jesus always is to me, and especially in the moments when I may feel most alone. 

Since I've moved here I've badly missed seasons. Most specifically, Spring, my absolute favorite. Spring in West Virginia is such a beautiful moment and so very significant for the soul. Without the harsh winter and its bitter cold. The way it imprisons you. The way it often freezes time, in good ways and in bad. Without it, Spring loses its significance. 

But the smell of those orange blossoms always reminds me that God is still in the business of changing seasons. In the environment. In my life. And when I look back on the first time I smelled orange blossoms, I am so thankful for everything between that moment and this one. God has done so many incredible, intricate things. So many miracles. I can breathe in the sweetness of Spring and anticipate all God will do in the coming years and, especially, their respective "springs".

"Puzzles Sold As Is"

Picked up a smoothie downtown for lunch this afternoon and, as I walked by a used book store, I saw the above sign. Wish I had a pic. Who buys a 1000 piece puzzle sold "as is"? I chuckled to myself imagining the optimistic soul who bought it and counted out 993 pieces. Or, if they're optimistic and blonde, much like myself, they put together 986 pieces only to find out the last 14 were long gone. 

Joyce Meyer tweeted today, "Worry is a down payment on a problem we may never have." And I thought about the fact that I, at times, worry that I'm trying to put together 1000 piece puzzle and I'll never, ever find all the needed pieces. Worry is always preemptive. And never effective. And God holds every piece I need in His hand. In fact, the whole world is in that Hand. 

Just some thoughts I was thinking. :)

Breaking Silence

Ever been in the middle of a conversation with someone - a really important conversation - and you just breathe deeply and tighten your lips, not knowing what to say, and too cautious to open your mouth and say the wrong thing? 

That scenario would be this blog. I've had so many thoughts lately. And I've been painstakingly analyzing which of them should find voice here and which should not. 

But, when I'm honest, I know I can't live my life in silence just because I'm so afraid of saying the wrong thing. This conversation that I carry on with you, talking of the day-to-day or the deep and weighty, it's an important conversation. And I have gone silent on you - afraid to say what's really going on in my heart. For fear maybe you wouldn't understand. Or maybe it would be "too much". But, in my naiveté I have at times poked in the chest of the generation before me and challenged my parents, my pastors, my mentors to be "real". Only to turn inward and hide my deepest thoughts from even myself. 

So, in this journey of courageous "reality", I choose to keep letting  you in. A Greek phrase I learned a few years ago has affected me deeply. (And if this is wrong, spare me the correction and just let me enjoy the concept, ok?) A professor told us that, in ancient times, when a potter would create a new vessel, he would form it and fire it and then hold it up to the light. If the piece was found to have hairline cracks (as most were), the potter would take wax and smooth it over the cracks to sure them up. And to make them less visible. 

Pieces of pottery left with their flaws evident, uncovered, were described as "sine-cera", or "without wax".  From which we gained our word, "sincere". 

I want to be sincere. Our flaws shouldn't be reasons for us to judge one another. But reasons for us to love each other. I've discovered recently that one of the most profound acts of worship I can offer the Lord is to acknowledge my weaknesses, and then to serve Him with all my might in spite of them - and watch Him make up for them, and then some with His 'more-than-enough' grace.

One of my favorite pictures of sincerity is my Grandmother. 

 She has lived her life being "real". Taking chances. Being unafraid to make mistakes (though perhaps a little slow in admitting them - a family trait :).  She lives outloud. Quiet when necessary. But she has not let her voice be silenced. Never her praise muffled. 

I want to live that way. Loud. Proud of what God is doing, even if what He's doing is humbling me...

it's just funny.

Why is laughter, of all the things in life, one that I may be most grateful for? Proverbs tells us that:  "A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." And really, no matter what's going on in life - if you can laugh, you can live. That's one of the biggest blessings for me in our church and in my job. We laugh. A LOT! Most the time "with" but sometimes purely "at" one another (all in love).

 

My best friend bought me a keepsake box once. Inscribed in gold letter on the deep brown wood is Ecclesiastes, "there is a time for everything. a time to sow, a time to harvest, a time to mourn, a time to dance..." and embossed over this verse is the word "LAUGH" in big, bold, gold, lettering. (She knows me so well). In all of these "times", whatever they bring and wherever God moves you, just being able to laugh makes so many things possible. 

Like the Proverb says, it's like a medicine. It makes your soul healthy, strong. 

So, today, I thought about the times in the past couple of weeks or so that have made me laugh...from my gut. Some - I WISH I could post online! But, for the sake of my own reputation (and others, who undoubtedly have more to lose), these will suffice:

So, one day I was on the phone with a wonderful friend. As I talked, I paced my grandmother's porch. I failed to look down and spot this mean cactus. See that brown stem? Sharper than it looks? Well, I managed to become aware of this cactus because it stabbed me without remorse in a very...delicate...area. Angry cactus. VERY angry me.

 

I risk my life to bring you this laugh. This is Christmas morning at our house. My uncle Kenny surveys his new Nike jacket with a grin, and my grandmother looks on. I like to call this "dreaming of a bald Christmas". (my grandmother's hair is still trying to recover from several rounds of chemo and a stem cell transplant).

These two "mature" ladies are drinking margaritas and a beer. It's 11 am. (5 o'clock somewhere right?)

Remember this candy? Why did they give us this as children? We wore them around our wrists or necks, collecting dirt and sweat (and other people's spit if you were a sharer) and then we ate them. Michelle still eats them. And that makes me laugh.

Scroll through your mind for a minute. Just think of a couple moments that made you laugh - really laugh. And then breathe a contented sigh. Isn't today better already? 

never moving to chicago.

It's very windy in Florida today. The aggravating kind of windy where anything not nailed down is blowing about and forget about your hair maintaining it's composure. And, after several long hours in the office, I took a "lunch break" and headed to Starbucks at the local mall to get some necessary items. Turned into a parking spot and pushed my door open just in time for the wind to catch it and propel it into the next car with enough force to knock their mirror clean off. It was cute. 

Knowing the wind was blowing with far too much force to leave any info on their windshield, I walked into the mall to find security - on the other side of the mall. So, click click click I go in my little heels to the other end and some guy radios security who drives to the scene of the crime - while I click, click, click my way back to the other end of the mall (thank God I'm in Polk County and what most of you are seeing in your mind as "mall" is a gross exaggeration). 

I walk outside to find security and the owner of the freshly unmirrored car waiting on me, with arms crossed. "Bad news," my inner voice tells me. "OK. Just smile, apologize, beg for mercy and explain it's God's fault - after all, He created wind. And He loves taking the fall for my mistakes. I can't believe this. If I'm going to hit something with my car, I wanna make it good. You know, at least have a story or something. This lady looks ticked! She might hit me. I wish my brother was here. Nope. Just me. Sighhhh....Here we go, Jesus give me favor..."

Haydee (the victim, er...owner of victimized vehicle) was very sweet and understanding. I explained I'd be happy to replace the mirror and make the necessary repairs (what I really meant was my good friend John would do all of that work and I'd buy a mirror). We exchanged info. Done. Back into the mall for the now much more needed coffee. 

I had to laugh as I got back into my car with my vanilla latte (extra fat, extra sugar, extra espresso, extra, extra, extra please). I thought about how some days of life are just windy - you have no control over how things will happen. They just do. And you have to just roll with it and thank God that your car door didn't bust out someone's window, or assault an elderly person, or hit a BMW. And thank Him for good friends who help you pick up the pieces. 

It's a good day :).