downtown Franklin

Ghosts

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stpauls

 

I was feeling burdened about some issues, so I stepped inside one of my favorite places on earth, St. Paul’s Espiscopal Church, a very old church building located in the heart of downtown Franklin. Being in that place always brings me peace and I can be still and silent and just be.

I pulled out one of the kneelers and got on my knees and unburdened myself before God. I let it all go. I don’t know if it will work out like I want it to or not, but I do know that I felt a peace about it for the first time in a while. Then I simply listened.

It may have been the creaky floorboards settling, but to my romanticized imagination, it sounded like echos of past worshippers. Ghosts of people who came to this place and found their own peace.

I felt that I was not alone. Not because of ghosts, but because I knew that God was there with me.

I know now that I have to let my situation go. I can’t fix it. As much as I try to “help” God out, I would only make things worse. So I have to back off and let God do what only God can do. It’s completely in his hands now.

I don’t know how long I knelt there, listening to the noises around me. I left my phone in my pocket the whole time.

I love the fact that God didn’t wait until I got my act together to come to me. He found me, broken as I was, and is loving me to wholeness. Even though I sometimes still live out of fear and doubt, he never once has abandoned me. In those times I felt most alone, he was closest of all.

That’s what I love about God. Every other religion is about how to get to God, but Christianity (not the religion, but the relationship with Jesus Christ) is about how God came to us and found us before we even thought about looking for him.

I’m so glad he found me.

 

Losing Your Way

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I went to downtown Franklin like so many other times before. In fact, I’ve made the drive so much I can go into autopilot and be thinking about other things while I navigate those familiar roads.

This time, apparently I got too wrapped up in my own thoughts and made one of my turns a block too early. I looked up and for a second I thought, “Where the heck am I? What have they done with my downtown Franklin?”

I figured out what I had done and had to do a bit of a scenic detour to get to my destination, but I got there.

At some point or another, we all get lost. Sometimes we get lost in our thoughts. Sometimes we get lost in a web of anxiety and irrational thinking and find ourselves saying things and acting in ways that aren’t true to who we really are.

But no matter how far out of the way you’ve gone, it’s always possible to get back.

Sometimes it takes being a part of something greater than yourself, volunteering for a cause that is way bigger than your own problems.

Sometimes it takes a friend gently but firmly speaking the truth to you in love to set you straight.

Sometimes it takes going to a favorite place on a perfect night and being in the moment with cool spring breezes and familiar sights and sounds.

Everyone gets lost. Even in the healing process, you will have bad days where you fall back to old habits and fears. I had one of those last Tuesday, but I’ve since owned it and moved forward. It’s okay to admit what you’re feeling, to be okay with the bad days because you know they are as equal a part of the healing process as the good days.

Most of all, there is never a time when Jesus doesn’t know where you are. He knows because he’s right there with you, often walking beside you unnoticed as you’re too enveloped in the fog of your pain and doubt to see him.

For those who know what it’s like to be lost and then found, you truly know what a sweet sound amazing grace is.

 

God’s Dreams

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I think this car best fits my personality (but unfortunately not my checkbook).

I think this car best fits my personality (but unfortunately not my checkbook).

I have a little dream that probably has no basis in reality. It pops up every time I wind up in downtown Franklin. I see myself driving a little red Mini-Cooper to my little stone house with the red door and going inside to work on my next novel.

Maybe there’s a little basis of reality there. I don’t know. It sounds like good life to me.

But I also know that my dreams for myself are nothing compared to God’s dreams for me. His dreams for me are much more vast, much grander in scope, more breathtaking and awe-inspiring than mine could ever be. I’d go so far as so say that if I saw the whole of what God has for me, my little brain would probably explode and little pieces of my mind would end up all over Williamson County. It would not be pretty.

Up to now, I’ve seen only the tiniest glimpses of those dreams and been amazed. God’s dreams for me are the motivation I need to not quit and to not give up on myself or on anyone else in my life.

What are God’s dreams for you? Where do you see God leading you in the days and months and years ahead?

Imagine the grandest dreams you’ve ever had for yourself and multiply those by a thousand. Or better yet, by ten thousand. Then you’ve only begun to touch the dreams God has for you. You’ve only touched the hem of the tapestry of your life God is weaving for you at this very moment.

All I know to do is to trust God’s dreams for me and be faithful in the small details. God has never failed one-up my expectations every single time and I know the next time will definitely not be an exception.

“No one’s ever seen or heard anything like this,
Never so much as imagined anything quite like it—
What God has arranged for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9).

My Ideal Idea

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This is my fantasy that has nothing whatsoever to do with reality, so indulge me. I’d love to live in downtown Franklin. I realize that the monthly rent on one of the apartments on Main Street is more than my car is worth and the houses are probably in the 7-figure range, but one can dream, right?

I’d be able to take a late night stroll down Main Street whenever I felt like it. I wouldn’t have to worry about fighting the nightmarish traffic during one of the festivals, ’cause I’d already be there. I’d just have to walk down a flight of stairs or out my front door.

By the way, this fantasy involves me coming into a large sum of money via either the lottery or some distant rich relative who dies and leaves all his vast wealth to me. While we’re talking realistically, that is.

There’s a stone house with a red door that I could see myself living in if the apartment thing doesn’t work out. It looks quaint and cozy and should probably come with a lifetime supply of earl gray tea and fuzzy bunny slippers.

And if this dream does happen to come true, you are all invited to visit me in my new setting. Just not all at the same time because of limited parking.

PS I am accepting donations toward making this dream come true. You can give cash or checks, but no credit cards (at least not yet). Your gifts will be greatly appreciated and you will get first dibs on visiting me in my new pad.

 

To All the Wallflowers in the World

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perks

I finally broke down and rented The Perks of Being a Wallflower from Redbox. In case you were wondering, that was the infamous movie that I had a ticket for the night I got hit by that car in downtown Franklin. Yeah, that was the movie I missed. Well, I finally saw it, almost two months later.

One line really struck me. “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

I had always wondered why I saw nice, pretty girls who always seemed to date guys who struck me as obnoxious, loud jerks. I wondered why they did that when there were nice guys (like me) available.

You could argue that most of the nice guys (again like me) never got up the nerve to ask out the nice, pretty girls. But I do think that people who don’t think much of themselves will settle for relationships that aren’t the best for them.

In case you’re wondering if this is going to be yet another blog on dating, it’s not.

I wonder how many of us really know our own worth. We tend to repeatedly replay every minor criticism and downplay every compliment out of a false modesty that really isn’t modest at all. If you and I are honest, we don’t think much of ourselves most of the time and we project that on to how we perceive others to not like us or acknowledge us.

Maybe you think nobody ever sees you or feels your pain or even cares that you’re hurting. Maybe you wonder why you bother getting up in the morning only to spend the entire day being overlooked and ignored by everyone around you.

Let me remind you that God thought you worth loving. Well, let me rephrase that. God chose to love you because he wanted to and in loving you, he made you lovable and worth loving. Maybe that only makes sense if you’re tired and still awake after midnight, but there it is.

God formed you with his own hands, breathed his own breath into you, and called you very good. You are made in the image of God and there is no one else exactly like you. You are God’s poem, his masterpiece, his workmanship.

So whenever you are tempted in any way to settle for less than God’s very best, remember that you are worth loving because God said so. And anybody who says or acts otherwise doesn’t deserve you.

 

The Healing Process

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I went back to Historic Downtown Franklin today for the first time since being hit by the car. I walked over to the spot where it happened, or at least where I’m fairly positive it happened, since the event has grown fuzzy in my mind.

I’m still nervous about crossing the street, even at a crosswalk where I have the walk sign. I hope that never fully goes away, so I will always be extra cautious and never get careless again in the same way that caused me to step out in front of a car.

I ate at my favorite place, McCreary’s Irish Pub, and saw a movie at my favorite venue, the Franklin Theatre. I’m glad that my return trip brought way more memories of good times rather than that one bad night.

I wish my pinky finger would heal faster. It’s still swollen and I still can’t bend it at the lower joint. But healing takes time.

I think we do healing an injustice when we rush it. Or at least I do. I feel like I should be over it already and moved on, so I don’t really give myself time to get well. I get frustrated when the same old fears rear their ugly heads when I thought I was over all that, then I realize that I’m better, but not whole yet.

It’s okay to still be broken as long as you know you’re moving toward wholeness. It’s okay to admit that you got overwhelmed by fears and anxieties because you remember when those dominated your life from waking up to lying down at night.

If a broken bone doesn’t heal right, it sometimes has to be re-broken and set again so it can heal properly. I pray for all of us that we allow time for God’s healing to soak in and really get to all the deep dark broken places in us that need his light. May we remember that we are all works in progress and will be until Jesus comes back.

 

 

Thankful for Life

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Of all the potential bucket list items I might have chosen to get done before I die, getting hit by a car was not one of them. But now I can scratch that one off my list.

I was crossing 5th Street in Historic Downtown Franklin when I foolishly stepped in front of a Mustang and got clipped. It knocked me to the ground and I’m pretty sure it took out the side view mirror on the car.

I remember seeing the car and thinking, “Oh crap, it’s going to hit me.” That’s not a feeling I want to relive any time soon.

I looked down at my hand and my pinky was bent in a funny shape. I was positive I had just broken my very first bone at 40 years old. I kept waiting for the serious pain to kick in, but it never did.

The girl who hit me was profusely apologetic and asked at least a thousand times if I was okay and could she call an ambulance for me. I felt more bad for her than for me. I got a little woozy and decided to sit down in Sweet CeCe’s just across the street.

Later, I spent three hours in the emergency room at Williamson Medical Center, mostly on account of that crooked little finger.

The only injuries I have to report are a dislocated pinky and a cut on my elbow that required five stitches. Oh, and a very small scrape on my right knee.

I did end up missing a movie I had bought a ticket for that I really wanted to see. The Perks of Being a Wallflower at the Franklin Theatre will have to wait. Hopefully, they will show it again soon.

Overall, I am most thankful to be alive and in one unbroken and (mostly) pain-free piece. I could have been killed or seriously injured. I could very easily have hit my head when I fell.

But I am convinced that God was watching out for me. Even though I scraped up my elbow, the jacket I was wearing has no tear or holes in it. My jeans where the knee got scraped are intact. As am I.

I might be a little sore in the next day or so, but I will never be more glad for soreness. I am truly blessed.

 

Small Comforts

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Tonight, I went for a walk around historic downtown Franklin. I ran into a friendly cat who let me pet him (or possibly her) and even purred. It reminded me of a scene from The Horse and His Boy.

Shasta had escaped from Tashbaan and is waiting for the others near the ancient tombs that are reputedly haunted. He is alone and afraid until he notices a large cat who brings him comfort. The cat, as it turns out, is Aslan in one of his many incarnations. And for you who are not familiar with Narnia, Aslan is a type of Christ.

Also, I remembered the scene from The Voyage of the Dawn Trailer where the ship is in the midst of the island of darkness with little hope of ever getting out. Lucy whispers a prayer and Aslan again shows up, this time in the form of an albatross who says in a voice that only Lucy can hear, “Courage, dear heart.”

Sometimes, the dark seems overwhelming. Sometimes, hope seems hard to find. It seems that nothing will ever change and it is futile to go on hoping for anything better or different.

That’s when God shows up. Often it’s not in a flashy, parting the Red Sea kind of way. It’s not fire coming down from heaven or a burning bush. Often, it is a very small voice that we can only hear when we are still and silent.

Often, God shows up in small ways. A kind word or text at just the right moment. A smile from a stranger. A beautiful sunset at the end of a hard day.

It can look a thousand different ways, but if you and I can look not just with our physical eyes, but with the eyes of faith, we can find these little reminders that God has not forgotten or forsaken us.

 

A Day in Downtown Franklin

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I think I’ve made it clear that one of my happy places is downtown Franklin, especially on a weekened where there aren’t too many folks wandering about. Another is whenever I’m sitting down and Lucy the wonder cat is in my lap, but that’s for another blog for another day.

I started off with a meal at McCreary’s Irish Pub, probably my favorite place to eat in downtown Franklin. It wasn’t the best meal I ever had there, but it was good. I had fun tipping the server more than I paid for the meal. I hope she was pleasantly surprised.

I sat in an old church while a guy was playing organ music, probably in preparation for Sunday. I think I heard a little bit of heaven then.

I went over to check on my favorite house there. It’s a stone cottage with a red door. It says, “You need to live here.” Or more accurately, “You need to win the lottery or have a very rich relative kick the bucket and leave you gads of money so you can afford to live here.”

I was standing on the corner of Main Street just in front of Starbucks when I looked up and around and noticed that I was in an entourage with Toby Mac and Gabe-Real and a few others. I was the proverbial fly on the wall (or in this case, fly in jeans and a cool t-shirt).

I love the fact that they’ve fixed up the old Franklin Theatre to show old movies (and some newer ones, too). I love seeing the classics on the big screen. I even have tickets to see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid on Sunday and The Artist next Friday, if anyone is in the area and wants to join me.

Is there a point to all this? Not really, unless it’s a plug for historic Downtown Franklin. Maybe it’s just a reminder to stop and smell those roses every once and a while. I actually did that recently (with an actual rose, no less). You should try it.

Go and live in the abundant grace of God that never ceases and still continues to amaze.

 

Sacred Places

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I have one of those sacred places I love to go every once in a while.

Whenever I’m in downtown Franklin. there’s an old church I love to step inside and just walk the creaky floorboards and take in the history of the place.

It feels more sacred to me than a lot of places because so many people have expressed devotions of faith and worship there over the years. You can almost feel the ghosts of old saints still lingering about the place.

I think everyone needs that special place where they can commune with God. Some place private where only God and they can go, where the world must stay outside until you both are done.

I have a quiet corner of the couch in the mornings where I sleep. . . I mean, pray very intently and where my cat crawls up in my lap and prays, too. Probably for me to include more tuna in her diet.

The sacred places are the places you can’t wat to get to, the ones where you long for after a long, hard day. Sometimes, before the day you know will be long and hard is about to start.

Obviously, the most sacred place of all is the human heart where the Spirit of God dwells. If you are in Christ, then wherever you are is where God is and that place you are standing is holy ground. Kinda makes you think twice about where you go and what you do, doesn’t it?

If you only get one thing out of this little blog, it’s this. Your Heavenly Father desires to spend time with you. Your spending time with Him is not a have-to, something you do and check off your list, but a get-to, a privilege, and a blessing.

Your desire to be more like Jesus and to be fully mature in the faith will only ever be as strong as your desire to spend time daily with Jesus, getting to know Him and His heart for the world.

As my blogger friend always says at the end of hs blogs, “You think about that.”