More or Less

In 2013, I am going to be more like Jesus.  I’m going to love the woman caught in adultery even though I know she’s been living in sin.  I’m going to treat her with the same kindness and respect I’d treat my momma.  I’m going to judge her less.  I’m going to spend less time thinking smugly about how much better I am and how small my “little” secret sins look in comparison.

In 2013, I am going to focus more on wellness.  I’m going to eat more fruits and vegetables and less meat and sugar.  I’m going to walk more and be more active and spend less time telling myself that I’m too tired or busy or whatever other excuse seems handy.  I’m going to remember that if the number on the scale is more this week than it was last week, it still doesn’t define me or determine my happiness.  But ultimately, I’ve decided that there will be less of me at the end of the year.

In 2013, I’m going to read more.  I’m going to savor the smell of books and the feel of beautiful words and phrases being absorbed from their pages.  I’m going to use my yellow highlighter more to mark the special words that touch my heart or make me think and feel less guilty about not owning an e-reader. 

In 2013, I’m going to write more and watch television less.  I’m going to use DVR more and watch commercials less.  I’m going to choose only a few shows to keep track of and let all the others go.  With more time, I’m going to write.  I’m going to spend less time thinking, “I should write about that,” and actually spend more time writing it.

Give more.  Take less.

Recycle more.  Trash less.

Play more.  Worry less.

Save more.  Spend less.

Bless more.  Neglect less.

Savor more.  Waste less.

Listen more.  Say less.

Forgive more.  Begrudge less.

Dream more.  Quit less.

Do more.  Try less.

Think more.  Speak less.

Grow more.  Complain less.

Love more.  Judge less.

Live more.  Regret less.

 

May your 2013 be more and less.

Love Poem

Makes you high
Makes you cry
Makes you wonder why you try
Love sucks

Makes you crazy
Thoughts all hazy
Makes you wanna push up daisies
Love sucks

Brain’s irrational
Heart is smashable
Emotions rising, falling, crashable
Love sucks

Makes you question
Overthinking, obsession
Desperately seek some kind of direction
Love sucks

But it gives you hope
So you try to cope
And you tie a triple knot in your rope
Love sucks


This random nonsense was inspired by and is dedicated to a couple of my crazy girlfriends.  You know who you are...

Triple Grande Mocha, Extra Hot, No Whip Please

If you follow my blog much, you already know that I’m friends with all of the gals (plus Tom) at my nail place.  I’ve tutored several of them in English and helped edit their papers.  They treat me like family when I go there because we have an ongoing relationship.  I know their names, and they know mine.  I think there is something to that. 

There is something about calling a person by name that is special.  When I can greet students by name, they light up.  They somehow know that to be known, matters.  I wish I could call them all by name. 

On one of several Starbucks runs last week, it dawned on me that I see the people in my favorite store more frequently than my family.  Certainly not with the intensity or duration, but in terms of frequency, my baristas are very familiar faces.

The more I thought about how often I visit, the more it bothered me that I know none of their names.  They are always super friendly, and we chat briefly over my order.  They’ve never messed up my drink, and they always smile and wish me well.  Occasionally, like this Saturday morning, I’ll hang out in their living room sipping a warm treat, enjoying a rare moment to just relax and escape into the pages of a favorite book.  And yet, I don’t know their names.

When last week’s tragedy happened, one of the things the media reported about the shooter was that he was a loner.  It seems like that is always the case in these kinds of events.  I guess mental illness was also a factor, but it bothers me that these people are always so disconnected from others.  I don’t understand why there are so many people who feel alone.  Unnoticed.  

I’m not suggesting that all school shootings could be avoided by someone befriending one of these isolated kids, but I sure don’t think it would hurt.  People isolate themselves because they are hurting.

But I don’t think we were designed by our creator to live in isolation, to brave the world alone.  I was struck yet again by the truth of this while I was sitting in Starbucks reading from Cross Roads.  Jesus tells Tony, the protagonist, “You can’t do any of this on your own or even on your own terms.  You were created by a community to exist in community, made in the image of a God who has never known anything except community.”

While I don’t fully understand the Trinity as community, I do get what he is saying.  God exists in community as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  One, and yet three.  Yeah…it boggles the mind.  But it emphasizes our innate need for community.  To be known and to know others. 

I love, love, love the lyrics to the song, “He Knows My Name.”

I have a Maker
He formed my heart
Before even time began
My life was in his hands

I have a Father
He calls me His own
He'll never leave me
No matter where I go

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And He hears me when I call.


There is something special about being called by your name.  Belonging to a community of people who know you and notice your absence. 

We have opportunities every day to mingle in a whole slew of communities.  Family, church, work, school, Facebook, Happy Nails, and even Starbucks. 

I think it’s time for me to introduce myself to my baristas.

Pants on Fire

Biggest lie I ever told
Was to myself

My squeezy nieces,
Witty nephews
Greatest aunt
That’s enough.

School kids need me
No mom’s at home
It’s why I’m there
That’s enough.

Friends have babies
They share the love
The Eskimo kisses
And that’s enough.

But sometimes –
It’s not.

What's your story?

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had some big stuff walk into my little office.  I’ve listened to a couple of different girls as they sobbed, grieving the loss of their virginity.  They felt dirty and used when the boys to whom they gave this precious gift then moved on to others just days later.  I cried with them.

 

One student casually mentioned that his dad gets furious with him when he won’t buy drugs for him.  He said, “I’m a teenager; of course I can get drugs.  But why should I spend my money on drugs for him?”  The disturbing part of the conversation was just how casually it was said.  So easily shared.

 

Three different students told me they could never talk to their parents the way they talk to me.

 

Everyone has a story.  Every person you come into contact with every day, has a story.  I’ve come to believe that the vast majority of people are also eager to share their stories.  If only someone would listen.  And care.

 

Too often we are in a hurry.  Rushed.  Running through the drive thru.  But sometimes we need to stop and savor the gourmet meal of someone’s story. 

 

There is an old hymn that comes to mind dealing with stories.  The words are simple, “Tell me the story of Jesus; write on my heart every word.  Tell me the story most precious; sweetest that ever was heard.”

 

I think that when we are open to hearing someone’s story, and sitting with them through the dark and dank parts of it, we are silently speaking the story of Jesus right back to them.  The story of love and acceptance.  The story of not casting stones.

 

 

 

*For every story I hear, I know I’ve rushed through ten.  So don’t hear me saying I have this all together.  I don’t.  This is a challenge for the reader AND the writer.

You Can't Take It With You When You Go

I made a casual remark the other day about a couple of the top five things I'd grab on the way out if my home were on fire.  That lead to more serious thought about it, so I figured I'd share.  And to be totally honest, it only took me about three minutes of serious contemplation to come up with ...

The Top Five!

 

5.  Dad's mug.  I vividly remember him drinking coffee from this mug. 

Coffee in Dad's mug smells like home.

 

4.  These are the best little banana bread loaf pans on the planet!  My mom gave them to me.  They are also fabulous for meatloaf and other various things.  I've never seen any like them.  They have the best non stick coating.  They've been cut on (you can see the marks) but they still work perfectly every time.

 

3.  My charm bracelet.  It is symbolic of my journey and often serves as a reminder of where I've been (metaphorically) and where I'm going and what truly matters.

 

2.  Dad's original Enthusiasm Socks.  Obnoxious aren't they?  Love them!  Look closely; you can see the holes.  I wear them occasionally.  Attitude is everything.

 

1.  Zip drive that holds my writing.  The ultimate journal.  Actually, I'd grab either my laptop or the drive, whichever was handier.  The drive lives in my purse so that it is nearly always with me.  Not everything I write is fabulous.  Some of it is terrible.  But it is probably my favorite thing.  Certainly my favorite form of stress/anger/anxiety management.  It is also a secret window into my heart and the crazy way my brain works.  If you REALLY want to know me, ask to read my stuff.  If you really want to LOVE me, appreciate the sharing of it.

 

 

So there you have it.  My most prized possessions.  In the grand scheme of things, stuff just doesn't matter.  People matter.  Relationships matter.  The journey matters.  

 

Baby Steps to Peace

Years ago, I went through Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, but I must admit that for the past two years I haven't been very peaceful.  I took control of most of my life, but haven't done a great job getting a handle on finances.  So when it was time for the FPU class at church, I figured it was time to make some changes. 

So far, I haven't been taking control very well.  I didn't get around to signing up for the class, so my mom did it for me.  Yay Mom!  Then I missed the first class yesterday because I was sick.  I stayed home from school today and started feeling better this afternoon.  In fact, I was feeling guilty about being home, so I decided to listen to the CD from the class I missed yesterday.  It started going through the Baby Steps. 

Step One:  Start an emergency fund with $1000

A while back, I started saving all of my spare change in canning jars.  While I was listening to the lesson, I decided I needed to take advantage of the day off and go deposit that money in my savings account.

Those change machines at the credit union are super fun to use!  Here was my jar deposit.

The left receipt was $123.93.  The right you can see.  For a grand total of $144.16!!!  Woohoo!  I took those handy receipts to the teller and deposited them, along with the cash from the jars for a total of $170.16.  Yay!  I had set aside another $400 to add to it, bringing me to $570.16.  Over half way to completing my first baby step.

It isn't as if I'm in the poor house or anything, and retirement is well in the works.  It's the day to day things and overuse of a credit card that have been doing me in.

So, today starts the journey toward getting financially peaceful again.  The journey is a little scary on your own, so I'm taking advantage of my emotional support resources including my mom and a very good single friend who is in the same boat.

This week's homework includes a basic budget, the sight of which makes me anxious, not peaceful.  I'll have to tackle it another day.  Baby steps, you know.  =]