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All Things Cornhole

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Tonight, KSA ( that is Kairos Sports Adventure for the uninitiated) had a Cornhole tournament and chili cook off. What is cornhole, you say?

First off, it is not this.

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Or this.

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Cornhole is “a serious toss game played in leauges on the West Side of Cincinnati Ohio. The game and targets are very similar to Bag’O, a commercial game from the East Coast U.S..” All that to say it involves tossing a bean bag at a rectangular board with a hole cut out in it.

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Mostly, it’s about getting together with friends and having fun. It’s about sharing life.

I met some people tonight that I hope I’ll become friends with over time.

And FYI, if you want to know what cornhole really is, didn’t look it up on google. Ask someone who’s played before. Let’s just say there are some things you can never unsee (or unread).

I am learning to find joy in the minutiae of life, in the small moments and conversations. I am learning that gratitude and thanksgiving unlock the ability to see God more in these moments and find His joy everywhere.

Life is the miracle of breathing grace in and out, of being present to the present, of experiencing fully every second you get from God.

Thank you to Stephanie and Emily and everyone else who made tonight possible. It was indeed a good night.

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Hank Sr and the Night Air

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I spent another night in downtown Franklin with two good friends. It was another picture perfect evening, weather wise and in every other respect. I could almost literally feel the smile of God over me as I walked with my friends and revisited my favorite spots.

On the way home, I selected Hank Williams because it felt right. I had the windows rolled down, the night air blowing in, and that plaintive voice from the past crooning me to a happy place on my way home.

Hank died over 60 years ago under mysterious circumstances that may never be fully known or understood. From what I understand, he led a very sad life. I read an apt description that he was going 90 miles an hour down a dead end street. But he could write some of the most poignant, heartfelt lyrics.

I’d rather listen to his music any day than most of what passes for country music these days. It feels mass-produced and manufactured, even though the production sounds a lot better and recording studios have come a very long way.

Sometimes, it’s good to go back. To revisit the old values and the old sayings. To remember the stories handed down through generations and the ancient wisdom time-tested and proven true.

Like this one. It is more blessed to give than to receive. If you want to save your life, you have to lose it. If you want to be treated a certain way, you have to treat others that way.

Or this. Love God with everything you’ve got and love your neighbor as much as you love yourself. That’s the Bible in a nutshell, all the laws and commandments at their purest, and everything you need to know.

Oh, I almost forgot. You can’t love God until you’ve found out how much He loves you and then received that love as your own. You can’t love your neighbors if you haven’t discovered who you are and where you belong and found that you have priceless worth as one not only created by your Abba Father, but redeemed by Him.

That’s an old truth that will never ever get old for me.

 

 

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, and The Weird (A Celebration of Life)

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First of all, the good news. I FOUND MY PHONE! WOOHOO!

Can you tell I’m a tad excited? I think so (said in my best Joey Tribbiani voice).

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Apparently, the lady at the Connection Cafe found it after I left it on one of the tables and took it back behind the counter, turning it off to save the battery. Thank you, nice Cafe lady whose name I don’t know but to whom I and Steve Jobs are eternally grateful.

Also, I had a marvelous time in downtown Franklin with a Facebook friend and her daughter, with whom I am also now Facebook friends. They are two of the best people ever. Seriously. Thank you, Carol and Hannah for making this Wednesday one of my best ever.

The bad? It was rainy and I had a sinus headache. The rain passed and so did my headache. End of story.

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The ugly? I may have found my phone but I’m still looking for my mind. If you see it, make sure and put it someplace safe and comfortable and make sure it gets fed twice a day. Preferably cheese and chocolate.

The weird? Me on a daily basis. But I’ve come to love my own particular brand of weird that I prefer to call eccentricity.

I still love that God knows where I am at all times. It’s even better than that Find my iPhone app.  He knows the secret thoughts I carry and the secret scars hidden so deep no one has ever found them.

Hannah, keep writing. Keep telling your story and keep singing the song God has put in your heart. Someone out there needs to hear it.

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To celebrate, I am posting pictures of animals and people celebrating. I am also sitting on the couch with one very non-celebratory cat sleeping in my lap. Yay.

I celebrate being alive and redeemed. I celebrate drawing another breath and breathing in the grace of God in every moment. I celebrate God’s amazing goodness to me who never deserved one iota of it.

Life is good, God is great, I am blessed. The end.

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Frump Girl and God’s Grace

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / 3 Comments

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Ian Miller: I know this great place… Zorba something… anyway, I’d love to take you there if you’d like to go.
Toula Portokalos: Uh, that place, Dancing Zorba’s…
Ian Miller: Dancing Zorba’s!
Toula Portokalos: My family kinda owns that place.
Ian Miller: [looking at her closely] I remember you. You’re that waitress.
Toula Portokalos: Seating hostess.
Ian Miller: I remember you.
Toula Portokalos: Look, I was going through a phase. . . up until now. I was Frump Girl.
Ian Miller: I don’t remember Frump Girl, but I remember you. (from My Big Fat Greek Wedding).

I love that last line. What Ian is saying is that he saw past the awkwardness and the insecurity to the inner beauty waiting to be revealed. An inner beauty that he had a hand in unveiling.

Sometimes with God, I feel like saying, “God, remember me? That promise-breaker? That doubter? That worrier?”

God’s response would be, “I don’t remember Promise-Breaker or Doubter or Worrier, but I remember you.”

You might remind God of a past addiction to pornography or alcohol or status. You might throw in adultery (like David), or deceit (like Jacob), or outright lying (like Abraham). You might show God Polaroids of the wreck your life used to be. God doesn’t see that.

What does God see?  Thanks to the cross, God sees you as though you had never sinned, never broken a promise, never doubted, never wavered in your faith at all.

He looks at you and sees the finished product, the stunning reveal. He looks at you right now and sees Jesus in all His perfection and glory. And He likes what He sees.

Better yet, He’s wildly in love with what He sees.

I know the mirror’s not a fun place to look at 5:30 am on a Monday morning. There can be some scary critters looking back.

But remember God not only has claimed you and renamed you, but He has redefined your past. Once you were an enemy, now you are an heir and a child of God. Your past no longer dictates your future. God does.

Just think about that and see how it changes your week.

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A Good Non-Gaming Game Night

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / 2 Comments

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The Green Hills Community Group scheduled a game night for tonight. Sounds like fun, right?

It was. The only minor complication was that it wasn’t really a game night. Only four people showed up, so we attempted Catch Phrase, but ended up doing something much better.

We had a bit of church.

I don’t mean we broke out the hymnals or burst into song. No one got up and preached and no one testified. Well, at least not in a Pentecostal way.

We had meaningful conversations and got to know each other a little bit better. To me, that’s church, where we figure out life together.

I couldn’t have asked for three better people to spend a rainy Friday night with. Even if I was tired and a bit dizzy, I still had a blast.

Life is like that. You show up expecting one thing, but get something else entirely. You make plans based on where you think you’ll be in ten years, but ten years later, all those plans and expectations are moot.

God rarely meets my expectations. He rarely does anything according to my timetable.

What He does always exceeds my expectations and His timing may not be mine, but it is always perfect. He gives me what I need exactly when I need it and not a moment too soon or a second too late.

I think if I have any expectations going forward, it’s that God will continue to astound and amaze me at how He turns setbacks and quiet nights into blessings.

He’s so very good at that.

Dar Williams and the Song in Your Heart

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According to Foursquare (an app on my iPhone), I hadn’t been to any concerts or movies at the Franklin Theatre since April. Until tonight.

I was in row D, seat 3 to hear one of my favorite singer-songwriters, Dar Williams, put on a great show. Even her opening act, Angel Snow, was fantastic. It was a good night.

Dar performed my two favorite songs of hers, “The One Who Knows” and “The Beauty of the Rain,” as well as several other gems. Her music always takes me to a peaceful place and her songs are most definitely an integral part of the ever-changing and ever-growing soundtrack to my life.

Jesus has been reminding me of the song in my own heart that I had begun to forget. Joy and thanksgiving, or eucharisteo, is my song and I’m thankful for friends and family who periodically remind me when I’ve forgotten the words or lost the melody.

I am one note in a living symphony of God’s love for the world He made. I may be only one small part, but without me, the symphony loses something. The same with you. The world around you needs to hear your own unique song and your small but vital part in God’s overture.

Let your life be the biggest hymn of praise that you sing. A hymn of thanksgiving, of hope restored, of dreams reborn, and of grace. Especially grace.

I will help to remind you of your song when you forget the words and root for you when your part in the Grand Symphony arrives. That’s what Church is for– to remind each other of the goodness of God and to love each other and God well. That’s a song the world around us has been dying to hear.

That Old One-Note Symphony of Grace

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I’ll be honest. I sat here staring at my laptop trying to come up with something else. I even scanned the headlines on msn.com in a vain attempt to find some noteworthy news to comment on. Nothing exciting happened today, so I guess I’ll fall back on a familiar topic. Grace.

Grace never gets old for me. It may get old for you reading about me writing about it yet again, but it truly never gets old for me.

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If I lived to be 1,000 years old, I think I’d still be amazed by grace. You’d still catch me dumbfounded, mouth wide open in awe of grace working in my life.

Grace is why I’m not still mired in my own sins and phobias, trapped by my own sense of worthlessness, doomed to stay inside a prison of my own making.

Grace is the smile of God over me and the Everlasting Arms underneath me that keep me going on the good days and gets me through on the bad days.

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Grace sees past the awkward conversations, the good intentions once again executed poorly, the regrets of words not spoken, and all the failures to the perfect end result.

Grace sees the best in me and allows me to see the best in the other and helps bring it out of both of us.

Grace revives dashed hopes, broken dreams, crushed spirits, ruined relationships, and forsaken lives.

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Grace is me not getting what I deserve and getting what I do not deserve– life more abundant and full and satisfying than anything else out there.

Grace means I woke up today with a thousand blessings waiting to be seen through a heart filled with thanksgiving and gratitude and joy.

Grace is my family and my friends loving me, rooting for me, calling out the God-colors in me, and helping me remember the song in my heart when I’ve forgotten the words.

Grace is the setting sun, the autumn breeze, the laughter of children, the old couple still holding hands, the leaves changing colors, and the applause of heaven over one  wayward sinner who comes home.

And grace is mine, all mine.

 

On a Night Like This 3

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My friends and I played sand volleyball again tonight. For the record, no one confused any of us with professional athletes, but we had fun. And that was the point of the evening.

I’ve noticed all of us have improved over time. We each have grown more confident in our own abilities and brought out the best in those around us. We’ve learned to trust each other and we know what any given person’s strengths and weaknesses are. We’ve learned to play as a team.

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I really believe that’s Church. We figure out life together. We offer encouragement in the face of failure and mistakes and we cheer for successes and victories. We know that in order to win, we need all of us together, on the same page with the same endgame in mind.

We learn to work together, knowing that we can be strong for others in areas where they’re weak. We learn to admit where we need help and to humble ourselves enough to ask for that help.

And as simplistic as it sounds, the most important part of living is showing up. It’s being present in your own life and not just a spectator watching and biding your time until you get to that next phase. It’s about intentionally choosing to engage with those around you and breathe in the night air and find joy in the details and to see God at work right where you are right when you’re there.

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Plus, it helps if you can laugh at yourself. I think my shining moment was tripping over my own two feet in a frantic effort to get to the ball. Did I mention I’m not Olympic material?

No one will remember next week which teams won or lost. No one will remember whose teams thry were on. But we will remember a perfect night with good friends and laughter and good memories. And best of all, joy.

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On a Night Like This 2

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Guess where I am? No really . . . take a wild guess.

Downtown Franklin, you said? How ever did you guess that? It’s not like I go there at least once a week, right?

Oh wait. I do.

I had the new Court Yard Hounds album as the soundtrack to my trek from the Brenthood all the way to my favorite place on earth. And it’s not Disney World.

I had my favorite meal, corned beef and cabbage, at my favorite place to eat, McCreary’s Irish Pub. Just about everybody knows my name there, and I love it.

I detoured from my usual next step. Instead of shlepping over to Frothy Monkey, I hoofed it over to Sweet CeCe’s, where they did not, as usual, have my very favorite flavor– Southern Sweet Velvet a.k.a. Red Velvet. I nearly cried.

Not really. I just got Hershey’s Chocolate instead and managed to not fall over dead from extreme disappointment. Life goes on.

I got in my Quality Frothy Monkey Time, don’t you worry. I sipped on fruit tea and got caught up on my annual Bible reading plan.

This year, I’m reading through the New American Bible, a Catholic translation complete with all the deuterocanonical books. Or apocryphal, if you please. I read through most of Job, quite a bit of The Book of Wisdom, and a few chapters from Luke.

My lesson from Job? It’s better to keep quiet and make your friends wonder if you’re an idiot than to open up your mouth and prove it.

The Perfect Weather continues. It really feels like a sneak preview of fall, soon to arrive after another stint of hot stinky humid weather. And more rain. I’m eagerly anticipating the changing colors of leaves, crisp morning air, bon-fires, hayrides, corn mazes, good conversations with friends old and new, and– best of all– for Jesus to once again dazzle me with His love for me.

I may check out my favorite house to make sure the current tenants are taking good care of it for me. I may suddenly burst into a Dave Barnes song. You just never know with me.

I think the reason that I’m not filthy rich is that I’m already quite attractive, extremely witty, and brilliant. I would be most unfair for me to add immense wealth to that. So I stay broke as a kind of public service to all of you out there who would otherwise either die of mortal envy or perish from lusting after my hot bod.

God is whispering sweet nothings to me in the night air. I can feel His love and pleasure over me like a sort of comfy old blanket that keeps my heart warm. May you feel the same.

My you know fully the love your Abba has for you this and every night to come.

On a Night Like This

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It was a perfect night. You couldn’t ask for better weather. It was cool, almost fall-ish, with a barely perceptible breeze stirring the remainders of summer scents and sending them wafting through the air.

I and my community group went to a friend’s house where we baked pizzas in an outdoor brick oven. That part was fabulous. Yeah, it beat DiGiornio’s, at least in this pizza fan’s opinion.

I even put together my own pizza, with dough, sauce, cheese, and pepperonis. Ok, I’m no Wolfgang Puck, but it was both fun and stimulating to create something with my own two hands. Especially something I got to eat later.

I loved seeing friends old and new and having good conversations. I love even more being in a place in my life where I’m comfortable in my own skin and not always feeling like I have to prove my worth to anybody.

Normally, you don’t see change and growth in your own life on a daily basis. It’s only when you are able to look back over six months or a year that you really see the fingerprints of God all over your life.

I see where I am more confident, calmer, and at peace with myself, others, and God. I am better at waiting, more patient, more understanding. I am much better at finding those moments of eucharisteo in my life and living out of a sense of joy and gratitude.

The only thing I would have added is maybe a hammock. I could see myself falling asleep, cradled by the night and hearing God singing with delight over me.

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So, life is still good, God is still great, and I am still blessed.