Jesus

Radner Lake and Henry David Thoreau

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image When was the last time you paused and stood absolutely still and silent for one minute? When was the last time you went to a place of solitude and did nothing more than listen to the quiet? I walked my favorite trail at Radnor Lake State Park again today. Even after so many times, it still feels like I’m leaving Middle Tennessee for Middle Earth. I feel like I could be Frodo Baggins out for a hike in the Shire. image When I stood still, I could hear nature all around me. Leaves rustling, birds singing, wind humming. Even myself thinking. I think God speaks loudest to me in the quiet. When I’m still and my brain isn’t racing with 9,956 tabs open at the same time. Like He did with Elijah, God often chooses to speak through a still, small voice that won’t compete with all the noise and clamor around us. image I can hear that Voice when I’m at Radnor Lake and when I’m sitting in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church or when I’m laying in bed late at night. I confess I’m still not very good at listening. I’m still too impatient and easily distracted. If I try to be still, immediately I think of something I need to do or a note I need to write. Complete stillness is so unnatural for me. For all of us.

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I need to get out more. And by out, I mean to these quiet places with no flashing neon lights or constant noise. Sometimes I think I could be like Mr. Thoreau and find myself a Walden Pond to visit for a while. Yeah, that’d be nice.

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Old Houses

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to old homes. Especially those with a front porch and hardwood floors and fireplaces.

Old homes have character. You know that if these walls could speak, they’d have plenty of stories to tell about families and memories and times of celebration and of sadness.

To me, new homes are just too cookie-cutter. They all look the same. They look like castles where people go to shut out the rest of the world.

Old homes always seem more inviting, like you expect to see someone on the front porch with a glass of sweet tea inviting you to sit a spell (as we say here in the South). I imagine that even the ghosts in old homes are friendly, like Casper (only slightly less annoying).

Maybe one day someone will leave me an old home in their will (hint, hint), along with a little extra money to help with the upkeep. That would be nice. I’m fairly certain that if I had a real genuine front porch, I’d almost never leave it but sit in my front porch swing and watch the people and cars passing by.

Old homes are a throwback to a simpler time and a slower way of life. Like Andy Griffith and Mayberry. A time when people were more satisfied with what they had and not always in such a hurry to acquire more and do more and possess more all the time.

I’m also open to house-sitting in an old house. Maybe for like four or five years, perhaps?

Family Reunions

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My cousin posted a picture on Instagram that got me thinking. It was a picture taken of the extended family gathered together, all smiles and laughter.

It made me think back to all those family reunions we used to have back in the day. I so enjoyed seeing those people, many of whom I only saw that one day a year.

Looking back, I have one regret. Why didn’t I get to know these people better when I had the chance? Why did I wait until it was too late?

I think everyone who has ever lost a close loved one will feel like they took their loved one for granted to some degree, that they left words unspoken or good deeds undone.

I look at this picture and I see a lot of people who aren’t around anymore. So many that I miss. If I only had some kind of time machine to go back, even if It were only like watching an old home movie. That would be enough.

You think you will have enough time with those you love. You won’t. You think that if they live a good long life, their passing won’t hurt as much. It will.

All you have is the time you’re given. All you have is today, as the old Robert Earl Keen song goes. Every moment you spend with a loved one now is one less regret you’ll have tomorrow.

Don’t think that I have only sad memories. The majority of the feelings that come from this picture are happy ones. Good ones. I feel like I grew up in a family with a long legacy of love, laughter, honor, and faith. I was (and still am) very blessed.

Something Worthwhile I Found on Pinterest

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As you may have heard, I am an avid fan of Pinterest. For the most part, I pin random, weird, and funny stuff. Rarely do I pin anything useful or DIY. Mostly, I pin small furry animals doing or saying humorous things.

But today I found this.  It was too good not to share.

I only need to add one thing: remember that God thinks you’re extraordinary. Jesus thinks you’re to die for..

Autumn in July? Yes, Please

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I forgot my lunch today. I walked right out the front door and the word “lunch” never even crossed my mind. That happens when you’re in full-on Walking Dead mode, pre-coffee.

I ended up walking across the street to the hospital cafeteria. Don’t worry. They have a grill which actually has decent food. I myself had a turkey burger, being ever the culinarily adventurous type. And yes, it was slap yo momma good.

I love fall. I especially love these sneak previews in the month that’s notorious for making me sweat like a pig that’s about to become bacon. July and I normally don’t get along very well. The same goes for August.

But today was a pleasant surprise. I like to think of it as a bit of weather serendipity. When you’re eyes are opened by grace, you’re able to see these things as small blessings, gifts from God.

Kairos was spectacular as always. The question of the night was this: why do you believe in Jesus? Is it for a comfy life? Or for good luck a la Genie in a bottle? Is it for a free ticket to heaven and a get out of hell card?

While each of these have varying degrees of merit, none of them alone are enough to compel anyone to want to follow this Jesus for a lifetime. Or for them to follow after your lead.

The best reason to follow Jesus? Because He’s worth it. Because He’s more than just a good man or a good teacher or a good example. He’s God in human skin, or as tonight’s speaker put it, God in a bod.

I ended up at Chick-fil-A, enjoying the night air and my own thoughts. And a grilled chicken sandwich, too. It was as close to perfection as this side of heaven allows.

Waiting

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I learned another valuable lesson about waiting and patience. I was supposed to meet a friend at the Radnor Lake State Park parking lot. The only thing was that the lot was full and there was quite a line of cars waiting to get in.

I was very tempted to turn around and head home. Surely, I’d be sitting in my car in that line for a long, long, long, long, long . . . well, you get the idea . . . a long time. It didn’t seem worth it to me.

Some did turn around and leave. But something in me told me to wait and to have patience. Surely enough, I saw people walking towards their cars and leaving and slowly but surely, that line of cars got smaller and smaller. Finally, I was able to find a spot.

I wonder how many people give up on their goals and dreams when they are on the cusp of seeing them realized. We are such an impatient society. We’ve forgotten that just about anything worthwhile takes time and effort, trial and error, and patience.

I’m so glad that God’s patience with me isn’t like me patience with Him or with myself. His patience toward me is infinite. He sees a future for me that I can’t see, a glorious end just on the other side of those seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

Mr. Churchill was right. Don’t give up. Don’t evah, evah give up (I even typed it with a British accent). It will be way more than worth it.

PS It was worth it. Under the trees with a cool breeze blowing, it almost felt like fall. My friend and I saw two deer, some sort of exotic bird (I think it was a heron), a squirrel, and a very sleepy raccoon taking a nap up in a tree. I have evidence.

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Films About Ghosts

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“If dreams are like movies then memories are films about ghosts” (Counting Crows)

My dad went to Memphis to finalize the contract on my grandmother’s old  house. She’s been gone for 8 years and hadn’t lived in that house for a very long while, but still it made me a little sad.

I have so many happy memories wrapped up in that place. Just going up that steep driveway can make me feel like I’m 10 years old again going to eat Sunday dinner.  I can picture uncles and cousins who have since passed. I can smell the rolls fresh out of the oven and the roast beef that was always my favorite part of the meal.

I remember walking through all those room once and thinking how small they seemed without the furniture. Or maybe it was the voices of the people that once filled these rooms, their laughter and tears, that made the rooms bigger. Then again, I was smaller, so everything seemed bigger than it really was.

In my opinion. If any place should be haunted, it’s this house. Not with malevolent spirits but with kind souls. My memories of this place are tied up with so many who are now departed that when I walk in these rooms, I almost feel their essence still lingering.

Maybe the people who are buying the house can start their own new memories. Maybe they too can one day look back on this old house with fond remembrances over family get-togethers and meals shared.

I’m thankful for my memories. I’m thankful for family who, while not perfect, loved each other. And me. I’m even thankful for those little gumball things that fell out of that tree in the front yard. I’ve gone blank on what they’re called, but I spent hours kicking those things like footballs over the fence.

I remember we used to all get in the station wagon and drive over there Christmas mornings after I opened all my presents from Santa. I also remember that was where I got my less than thrilling gifts like socks and underwear.

There are still pictures, old and faded, to remind me of these good times. Not all the memories are happy. Some are sad. But each one led me to where I am now and I see how God was working in each one, so I can give thanks, if not FOR all of them, most definitely IN all of them.

 

 

 

 

Still Yet Another Good Reminder

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“Sorrow cannot steal our faith or even cause it to be lost; betrayal and loss steal our faith only when we refuse to remember, tell our stories, listen even as we tell them, and explore the meaning that God has woven into every one. If we want to grow in faith we must be open to listening to our own stories, perhaps familiar or forgotten, where we have not mined the rich deposit of God’s presence. With better eyes and ears we will sense how God has worked to redeem even our most tragic experiences” (Dan Allender, The Healing Path).

I don’t know why I gravitated to this quote. I’m not dealing with any kind of loss or grief or even sadness, yet these words spoke deeply to me.

Maybe because I realize lately how fragile life is and how easily those we love can slip away from us, how quickly those little babies grow up and leave home, how fleeting are the days.

The most tragic remembrance in the end will be how we took so many people for granted and left words of love and gratitude unspoken. In the end we will not treasure our trophies or promotions or rewards, but the relationships that made us come alive and be better people.

So all that from a quote I stole from someone on Facebook.

Revisiting the Shire

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I’m re-reading The Lord of the Rings. I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve read this book (side note: there are not three books, but one book in three parts).

It’s like going back to a familiar vacation spot. I get to revisit places like Bag End, where Bilbo Baggins lives, and The Shire. I can go back to the Prancing Pony or even climb Weathertop again. I wish there really was a Rivendell or Lothlorien to visit for an extended period of time.

If you don’t know what any of these places are, I recommend reading Lord of the Rings. Start with The Hobbit. If you’re feeling really brave, pick up The Silmarillion.

I have so many books on my to-read list that I’ll have to live to be 200 to get them all read. And I keep adding more books to that list. I read one and buy three, which even according to my own math skills doesn’t add up. So why do I keep reading the same books over and over?

Because some are just that good. I get my Narnia fix and go back to Middle Earth to check out those wacky hobbits because those books stir up feelings and desires in me that make me want to be a better person.

Plus, every time I read them, I pick up something new that I’ve missed before. Plus, I get the thrill of anticipating what I know is about to happen next.

They do make pills for this.

If you re-read certain books every year, I’d like to know. It would be nice knowing I’m not the only one who does this.

Plus, I can add even MORE books to my to-read list. Yay.

PS I’ve seen the movies and it helps me visualize the characters and places in the book. Just thought I’d thrown that one in for free.

I like the movies, but I much prefer the books. You can’t really do justice to this book unless you make ridiculously long movies that almost no one would go see. Plus, who would they get to play the part of Tom Bombadil?

Another Night of Worship

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Kairos is always good. But every now and then, it gets taken up a notch to an epic level known as a Night of Worship. Usually, that means more worship songs. Hence the name.

Tonight’s theme was the love of God from 1 John 4:10. The question was this: “Do you see yourself the way God sees you?”

Often, it’s easy to look in the mirror and see failure, broken promises, and unfulfilled potential. It’s easy to focus on the might-have-beens and on what you lack instead of what you have and who you are.

It becomes infinitely easier to love yourself once you begin to grasp how deep the Father’s love for you truly is. How deep and wide and high and long. How unfathomable. Once you realize you did nothing to earn it and can do nothing to lose it.

It’s easy to worship when the emotions are running high and the crowd is hyped, but what about when you’re stuck in that morning traffic or slogging through emails at work? Or pouring that all-important first cup of coffee while it’s still dark outside?

Music and singing are a part of worship, but not all of it. Not even close. Worship is how you make much of Jesus in everything you do wherever you are whenever you are. Even taking out the trash or scrubbing toilets can be an act of worship when done in gratitude.

Still, the music part is nice.