Face-Time

I ran into a friend yesterday.  I followed her back to her office and we sat and talked a while.  It was good.  We caught up, laughed, remembered, and made a plan to hang out soon.  I needed that.

I love good conversation.  My heart swells like a roasting marshmallow when I get face-time.  It’s good to catch up or get to know someone in a deeper way.  That happens through face-time.  I’m not referring to the app on your smart phone but it can happen there.  Can even happen talking on the phone.  But you must be genuinely involved.

Conversation requires a balance of listening and answering, offering your thoughts and receiving theirs.  A discovery of a mutual hobby or similar work, a laugh, maybe some tears, a shared history…….an open heart.  Mostly it requires your full attention.  Your simple devotion to what’s right in front of you.

Conversation heals, brings revelation, transforms, uplifts and teaches.  If you’re truly engaged.

But we give the fake nods; say the phony “mmhhmms”; pretend we heard what was said.  Scattered, distracted, bothered, uninvolved.  We walk away from the conversation unaffected.  We barely offer anything of ourselves and have learned nothing about the other person.

It makes no difference whether you’re face-to-face or on the phone.

Good conversation, the kind that makes a difference, requires concentration and consideration.

Next time you have a chance to talk with someone, focus your attention.  Stop everything else and connect, encourage, inspire, and listen.  Make someone’s heart swell.

It’s the simplest way to show someone they matter.

The Middle

It was already past my youngest daughter’s bed time.  

“Brady, gather your uniform!  You have a game tomorrow,” I said. 

“Ok, I have everything except my game socks,” she said.  

She looked again after I assured her that I’d washed them.  But it was late and we were too tired to care about her red game socks. We were certain we’d find them in the morning.  

We didn’t. I was aggravated and she was crying when she left for school with her brother and sister.  I waved them goodbye and marched back into the house, determined to find those socks.  I had five minutes.  Not under the bed, not in the dirty laundry pile, not in her brother’s room.  No red socks and I had to leave for work.  Ten minutes into my drive to work I realized I’d forgotten to write a note for her teacher about the change in afternoon pickup arrangements.  

“It’s ok,” I thought, “I’ll just call the school.”

Seconds later my cell phone rang.  It was the school.  My daughter went to the office to tell them I forgot to send a note.

I cried the rest of the way to work. And I was late. I walked into the office with a big grin on my face trying to hide my ruined makeup and wished my co-workers a good morning.

But my eyes didn’t lie.  Even with a fake smile, I’m sure they weren’t fooled. I can usually hold it together, but not lately.  I think I have “Acute Emotionalosis”, an abnormal condition pertaining to my emotions.  Crying one minute, annoyed the next.  I’m overly sensitive to songs about only having 100 years to live or kids growing up.  Trace Adkin’s song, “You’re Gonna Miss This” does it to me every time, and so does anything by James Blunt.  Even commercials cause tears.  Have you seen the Subaru commercial with the 7-year-old little girl at the wheel?

I don’t feel like I’m doing this whole life thing well.  Whether it’s my role as wife, mother, daughter, friend, or employee…..I doubt myself.  Sometimes, I know I’m not doing it well.

That was three years ago. I was going through a difficult time and getting used to a new normal, adjusting to working full time outside the home after mostly being home for ten years.  And in my spare time I was studying for the CPA exam.

I remember how I felt then. Besides tired and overwhelmed I felt inadequate. Less than. Like I was failing at everything, disappointing everyone and I was on the verge of tears most days.  

My family and I finally adjusted to the job. But as soon as I was used to that everything changed again. And again. And then again.  

And more change is coming.   

Change has changed me. For the better. I still have moments of doubt and stress. I mess up with my husband and kids. I say the wrong things, I’m not always there when they need me, and I’m impatient. I forget to write the check or the note. My house is still not as clean as I’d like it to be. I fail sometimes. But they’re only moments. 

When faced with a loss, a problem, crisis, challenge or any kind of change I try to remember it won’t always be this way.  I’m right in the middle of this whole life thing, doing it the best way I know how, and learning how to do it better. I will still feel the sting of failure, but I will take each day as it comes and remember the words to one of my favorite songs, “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World.  

“Hey, don’t write yourself off yet.  It’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on.  Just do your best, do everything you can.  And don’t you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.  It just takes some time, little girl you’re in the middle of the ride.  Everything, everything will be just fine, everything, everything will be alright, alright.

I wish I could tell you I was my daughter’s hero that day because I found those red game socks before her game that afternoon three years ago.  I can’t. We never found the socks. And just last night she asked me where her black athletic pants were.

“I don’t know, baby,” I said.

She asked, “Have you washed them?”

“No, not recently.” I said.

“MOM!” she said.

Oh well, I’m in the middle.

Disastrous

The Grocery Store

I was in the grocery store the other day, and I noticed the young girl in line ahead of me.  She was beautiful and so were her tattoos. The tattoos stood out against her pale skin. Her dark hair was blond streaked and pulled back in a sloppy pony tail.  She looked hungry but the only item at the register was a can of baby formula. She clumsily pulled out a wad of dollar bills from the front pocket of her jeans. Some coins fell from the wad of cash and she counted the money until the amount was right. She pushed it toward the cashier. 

The cashier seemed impatient with the girl.  She picked up the cash and put it in the register. The cashier was an older woman with thick, salt and pepper hair swept away from her face.  Her hands were calloused and her skin leathery.

Both women seemed tired. The cashier from standing at her job all day……maybe the younger woman from caring for her children all day. Both seemed heavy with worry, weariness and busyness.  

What I noticed most was their disregard for one another.  They wouldn’t look at each other, neither smiled nor spoke.  No chit-chat between these two when the cashier handed the girl her receipt.   Each was in her own space. 

I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if one of them had said hello? or smiled?   

I’ve done the same thing.  I’ve been too busy to notice those around me. Too tired to smile or too deep in my own world that I didn’t speak.  

How many opportunities have I missed to simply acknowledge another?  To share a smile, an encouraging nod, or a friendly comment? 

I kept trying to catch the young tattooed girl’s eye. I wanted her to know that I saw her but she never looked my way.  

I tried to chat with the cashier but she wasn’t in the mood. 

That’s okay. I saw her. 

I must see those around me.  

How can I love them if I don’t see them?   

801

Can a place change you?

Moses was changed on the mountain, Paul on the road to Damascus, and Esther in the palace.

Anne Lamott wrote that she staggered to faith from one safe place to another. One of my safe places is 801 Fretwell Avenue.

Moments happened in that metal building at the end of a dead-end street that opened my eyes and my heart. To something wonderful.  Sometimes to something terrible.  I felt deeply, was moved deeply…….and was changed.

Where joy and sorrow are shared with a diverse group of imperfect people learning to love and live well.

The church. A place I am known and loved and encouraged and challenged.

Today I celebrate all that God has done through the people in that place.  Because it’s not really the place….it’s who is there or Who is there.

It’s God in the place.

It’s the people in the place.

It’s God in the people in the place.

Dance

Don’t look at your feet to see if you’re doing it right.  Just dance.    

Anne Lamott

My family and I had the opportunity to share an experience with some very special people Friday night. My church hosted a prom for those in our community that have never experienced one.

The decoration team did an excellent job at making the place grand. No short cuts were taken. From the entrance, to the food, the centerpieces, to the photo booth and the music, it was all beautifully and carefully thought out.  It was apparent that a team of people invested a lot of time to make a special night for those who are often overlooked.

The volunteers weren’t looking for anything in return.  But we all got something.

We saw genuine joy as the guests walked through the doors. These precious ones, all disabled in some way, overflowed with gratitude and awe. The ladies in their sparkling dresses and the guys in their suits and bow ties were unhindered as they laughed and shared their excitement. They ate the meal, posed for photos, then came my favorite part of the night.

The dancing. Not one of them sat on the side of the dance floor watching.

They were in the middle of it.

Dancing. Twirling. Clapping. Laughing.

We cheered them on as they danced and danced.

We danced too. But not as freely. Not with such abandon. Not without thinking about it.

If only we could learn to dance like that.

They should praise him with dancing.They should sing praises to him with tambourines and harps. The Lord is pleased with his people;he saves the humble. Let those who worship him rejoice in his glory.Let them sing for joy even in bed!  

Psalm 149:3-5  NCV

 

In response to the Daily Post’s Rhythmic.

Scared

God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him.                Psalm 46:1  MSG

“God knows it’s scary to be us.”

I’m like the five-year-old awakened in the night by a flash of lightning and loud boom of thunder, running to her parents’ bedroom to crawl in bed with them. I’m scared.

This is scarier than thunder and lightning. And all I know to do right now is cry out to God.  I’m scared because I don’t know how this is going to turn out. What I thought was……..is not.

One of my favorite authors, Beth Moore, wrote: “God knows it’s scary to be us.”

And He doesn’t take it lightly. He knows our fears and sorrows. God knows the tears that have streamed down our faces and the deep pain that caused them. Not one teardrop is unnoticed. Even the ones we hold in.

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.         Psalm 56:8  NLT

I’m scared of what’s to come, the pain of healing, and the unknown. I’m even more scared of going back to the way it was.

So I will seek the Lord. I will run to Him and let Him comfort me. I will look to Him as I go through the struggle, the inconvenience, and the pain. And I will be radiant.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.          Psalm 34:4-5  NIV

In response to the Daily Post’s Storm.