A note to my readers

I so enjoy posting on Confessions of a Martha! I hope you enjoy reading my words as much as I enjoy writing them. I hope God blesses you richly today and every day, and I hope I bring Him the glory He deserves with my words.
As I mentioned in a post in November ("Challenge Accepted"), I am beginning a 3 1/2 year challenge today, to do everything in and for Jesus, and make a difference in His world. To chronicle my adventures, I am beginning a new blog: The Difference. I will still post in Confessions of a Martha, but I will reserve it for posts and thoughts that come from taking a minute out of the busy to focus on the important things. So, basically, Confessions of a Martha will remain as it has been, and the new blog will be for my new adventure/challenge. You can check it out at www.threeandahalfyears.blogspot.com. I hope you will continue to read both, and live this exciting adventure with me!

Black Monday

            I hate Valentine's Day. Now, don't misunderstand me - I am not anti-love. I love love and I have a ton of it in my life. What I don't like is the focus on romantic love, and the side effect it has on unattached people. I don't like the way Valentine's is promoted and commercialized because it excludes single people, and makes them feel like something is wrong with them or that they should feel bad for being single. On top of that, my birthday is about a week and a half after Valentine's, so not only is it a reminder that I am single, but also that I am getting older. Whoopee.
          In college, a friend celebrated "Single Awareness Day" but I refused to participate. I am fully aware that I am single, thank you very much. And on top of everything, it spells "SAD." No thank you. So another friend and I created our own alternative holiday - Black Monday. (That year February 14 was a Monday.) It started as a an Anti-Valentines day, but over the years it has become something more.
           Black Monday is my way to celebrate love and life, with or without a man in my life. The biggest love out there is God - I mean, seriously, He IS love, and He loves me! How much more love do you need? There are so many kinds of love, and that is what I celebrate on Black Monday.
          I refuse to feel bad or hopeless, but instead dwell on the great things I have in my life. So, Happy Black Monday, everyone! Share the love. <3

What's in a name?

Shakespeare once asked, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.” While that is an accurate statement, it sends an incorrect idea. Names are very important. We have to hear and speak our name daily, and we want it to make a good impression, not a bad one.  When a friend is expecting a baby, we always ask, “Have you picked a name yet?” Parents spend a lot of time deciding on just the right name, weighing all options and variables. One of my friends and her husband didn’t decide 100% on their daughter’s name until she was born, to make sure the name fit the baby. I understand that completely! Choosing a name is a big deal. You want it to fit, be unique enough, sound good with your last name, etc. Most people also consider the meaning of a name and weigh that in with the other factors.  In the Bible, meaning was very important. Many times we read “so and so had a son, and named him such and such, because ……….” Often that name meant something relative to the child, parents, or circumstances.  That child’s name then gives us insight into their life, or allows us to view their life with perspective.

I have done a lot of research on names lately, as I prepared to legally combine the first and middle names given to me at birth. I have been called by both names together most of my life, and love the unique name they create, and I was ready to make it legal. After checking with my parents to make sure it was ok with them, I began to think about middle names. I decided I did want a middle name, and I wanted a good one. I took suggestions and looked up names and meanings on the internet.  One friend suggested making a list of words or phrases that described me (that I liked), and look up names that meant those things. It was such an interesting process! If you know me at all, you can imagine my lists and charts as I considered all the possibilities. I narrowed down the options, got input from family and friends, and finally decided on one: Irene. It was my grandmother’s name, and it means “peace”.  Now I don’t know if I am super peaceful, but I strive to be. And I love the connection to my grandmother, who passed away about 18 months ago.

I went downtown last week and filled out all the paperwork, and made it official. I love my new name! It makes me smile every time I write it. I hope I can be all it inspires: a peaceful, house of God, and a reminder of His graciousness.  I wonder if God would introduce me and say, “she was called Jennabeth Irene because…”  I hope so. On a side note, I also wonder if He changed the spelling in the Book of Life, or if it was already in there. Hmm….J As long as some version of my name is in there, I’m good. J

Oops... I messed up again

I did something dumb the other day. What it was isn’t important. Just something unwise, and sure enough, it came back to haunt me.  So now I am dealing with cleaning it up, which is always fun. L The other day, when it all blew up, I got fussed at, and I apologized. And then I waited for the further backlash I was sure would come. But it didn’t. I expected to get berated for it again the next day, but I didn’t. Everything was going fine until another mistake was made. This one wasn’t a big deal at all: I left something off a form I filled out. It was caught immediately, and was easy to fix. But it was treated like a big deal. Judging by the tone of voice used on me, you would have thought I gave away state secrets or something. And ever since then, every imperfect thing I have done has been treated seriously, and I’ve been blamed for things that I never even dealt with. Today, I finally couldn’t take it, and after (another) stern reminder, I started crying. I can’t help it – it’s my default. I am stressed, I am weary, and I am imperfect. So I cried. Just a few tears, but I was seen. “It’s nothing to get upset over. Just be very careful from here on out,” I was told. But it was something to get upset over, at least for me.  For three days, I’ve been reminded every time I do something less than perfect, which is a lot. But more than that, it’s almost like people have been watching me with narrowed eyes, looking for the moments I err, so they can call me on it.  How does that help? Honestly? It doesn’t. It just makes it worse, puts me on edge, and causes me to second-guess every word out of my mouth.

                You know, I got really upset over those people’s actions this week. But the worst part: I do that to myself, too. I notice a slip, and then start staring at my life with narrowed eyes, waiting for the next mess-up, which inevitably comes. That is no way to live. We make tons of mistakes, errors, and poor choices daily. We’ll only make ourselves crazy and afraid if we constantly yell at ourselves and others. I am so glad that God doesn’t do that! He removes my transgressions, “as far as the East is from the West.” Praise the Lord!!! His grace is sufficient. Now to extend that grace to myself, and the people around me, even if they don’t extend it back.  Have a “grace-full” week!

Family (and Friends)

             So, it is the Holiday Season. You hear a lot about spending time with family and friends. That phrase: “Family and Friends” is a bit of an inside joke around our house. J The joke goes that all Friends are family, so it is a rather redundant phrase for us. Now, it is a play on words, but it also reflects our attitude towards those closest to us. There are 6 of us in the immediate family, but our true family is much larger, stretching beyond the traditional extended family of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, to include several Aunts and Uncles, brothers and sisters of no blood-relation or official adoption. To this day, I still refer to them as Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Steve, Uncle Freddy, etc. and sign texts and cards to others “Love you sis!”

                They truly are family to me. With that comes a support system, unconditional love, and a network of people who care and that I can trust. I have been blessed with a wonderful family in all aspects, and maybe that’s why we so readily welcome others into the family. When you have a good thing, you want (or should want) to share it.  Most of the credit goes to my mom, who has always “taken in strays.” But in reality, she chooses people to incorporate into our family.  But just like being born into a family, once you are in, you are a part of it.   “Uncle Freddy” jokes that he was invited to come hang out with us 20 years ago, and said “Sure, why not?” He just never expected to be “adopted” and never let go. J He has been at almost every birthday, graduation, dance recital, and Christmas for the last 20 years, and hopefully for the next 20 +.

 There is a line in Lilo and Stitch that I absolutely love: “'Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten.” You will never be given up on. That is how my family is, whether you were born into it, adopted into it, or unofficially added.

                I hope you have a family like that this holiday season. If you don’t, you are more than welcome to join ours! J

All I Want For Christmas

                I love Christmas music. I love all the old classics, the hymns, and the “poppier” songs about the season, though they are a bit of a guilty pleasure. My favorite guilty pleasure Christmas song is All I Want for Christmas (is you). It never fails to bring an impish grin and giggle to my face. I don’t know why. I just like it. There are many, many other similar songs. In fact, we seem to be inundated with secular love songs at Christmas - all holiday-themed of course, but still they are love songs.  Most deal with a want – usually a person, whether a current love, or a future or past one.  What is it about Christmas that makes us want a man? Yesterday the lyrics of one such song struck me particularly hard: ““Tell me my true love is here. He’s all I want, just for me, underneath my Christmas tree.” It got me to thinking, especially the “my true love” and “all I want” part. While I would like a special guy sometime, it’s not all I want. And as for the true love part, I already know Him. His name is Jesus Christ, and the upcoming holiday was named after Him. He loves me more than I can imagine, and provides everything I need. I don’t need to wish for something or someone to appear under a tree.  He’s already here. He arrived over 2,000 years ago in a stable on the other side of the world.

                I guess it is appropriate that we hear love songs at Christmas, because that’s what Christmas is all about.  Love.  When you think about it, most Christmas songs are about love. Either wanting love (the secular pop songs) or having already found it (Christmas hymns). While I enjoy the pop ones for fun, I truly love the others more, because they remind me about what is important. Not having a cute guy waiting under mistletoe or a laptop wrapped under a tree, but true Love. Family, friends, and Jesus. You can’t get much better than that. J

                No matter how you celebrate this season, I hope you truly have a merry Christmas, and that you are able to bask in love the Father has for you. He sent you the best present ever! Enjoy it!

Martha Martha Martha

            I have no idea whether Martha or Mary was older. But I always have imagined Martha as the big sister, and Mary as younger. Since I am a self-confessed “Martha”, I usually see things from her perspective, and haven’t given much thought to how it all looked to Mary. Bear in mind how Martha is in my imagination. (Check out my posts Confessions of a Martha from September and the more recent Mare-eeeee! for a peek into my mental picture.) So with a (presumably) big sister like that, how would Mary think? I’m not sure, but I would imagine she’d be pretty tired of being nagged by Martha to help. I picture an image of Martha wiping her hands and hollering, and Mary turning her head and rolling her eyes, as if to say “Here we go again.” Again, I am speculating. But I get the impression that Martha is usually touted as being responsible, and therefore right. So Mary would be very “over it” by now.

                I love The Brady Bunch. It was a great show. (If you’ve never seen it, go watch it.) I love the interactions between the siblings. Sometimes they get along unrealistically well, but sometimes they act more like real brothers and sisters. Especially Jan. Admittedly, I view it from an oldest sister perspective, but I’ve always thought they wrote her very believably as a middle daughter. I love the episode where she is so over people saying how great Marcia is, and she explodes, “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!”  

                Similarly, I can see Mary being annoyed with her sister. So I would imagine she loved it when Jesus reprimanded her “perfect” big sister. I can see a smug little look as Mary thinks, “See Martha? You’re not always right. I did the better thing here.” And I’m not discounting that she did the better thing there. (Go read “Mare-eee!” if you haven’t.) But the big sister in me screams for justice, and then balance, which I don’t see in Mary. Yes, Mary, you focused on Jesus, which is always the better thing. But if you always leave Martha with the brunt of the work, she will always see you as Lazy Mary, even when you are doing the better thing. We all need balance in our life.

 Things need to get done (Martha), but we also need to take a break from the to-do list and stop and acknowledge the more important things in life (Mary). I think that was Jesus’ point. But taking a break is only effective if the to-do list exists and is followed. So to all the Marys out there: We Marthas are glad you have your priorities straight. But please help with the other stuff, too, so we can more easily notice the difference between the important things and just not helping.

                Ok, I am done. Rant over. Whether you are a Mary or a Martha, I hope you find peace and balance in the craziness of the Holiday season. And of course, don’t forget to focus on the important things while that never-ending to-do list gets checked off!

 Merry Christmas!

Mare-eeee!

As I’ve confessed earlier, my view of Mary and Martha is probably tainted slightly by my Martha-like personality. I’ve always pictured Martha as a very with-it, organized, color-coded type of girl who talks like I do, and is basically me in early AD clothing. And I wonder if the Mary of my mind has been similarly influenced by my sisters. (I have two.) Now, my sisters are great. They are hard-working, sweet girls who are my best friends in the world. But, as is common with siblings, we see things differently from time to time. My idea of an urgent project or need is different from theirs. When I am on a cooking or cleaning bent, I want it done right then, and they don’t always share my urgency. Whatever productive or noble pursuit they are engaged in is clearly (to me, at that moment) not as important as dinner, or the dishes, or whatever I want their help with. J So I holler (in a slightly irritated tone), “Bonn-eeee! Beck-eeeee!” to hurry them to my aid. In my mind’s eye, Martha’s in the same boat. She’s slaving away, convinced her sister is too busy, lazy, etc to do to the things that need to be done. Since Martha and I are so similar, I have seen Mary that way, too. Not just on the day Jesus came, but all the time. I have seen Mary as a girl who sits and chills while her sister does all the work.  I see Martha coming out of the kitchen on a daily basis, wiping her hands on her apron, hollering “Mare-eeee!!!” while Mary sits and daydreams, oblivious to the mountains of work waiting.

Have I been fair to Mary? Was she really that bad?

Probably not. We only see snippets of Martha and Mary’s life. We don’t know how they interacted with each other most of the time. They are only described a handful of times in the Bible. The first is the famous scene where Martha tattles to Jesus in Luke 10. The second is when their brother Lazarus dies (John 11), and a third is shortly after that, in John 12. In John 12, we see a scene where Jesus has joined his friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus for a special dinner, at some point after Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.  (It is possible this may be the same dinner described in Luke 10, but stay with me.)  NIV reads: “Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him.” (John 12:2 b) We see Mary in the next verse, “Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” I find it interesting that here we are told more about Mary and less about Martha, but it is still mentioned that Martha was doing the work. Now, she may not be doing all the work, but that is the way I have always read it.  Then Jesus proceeds to (again) tell everyone how Mary has her priorities right, but this time he is preaching to the disciples instead of Martha.

            So there is no resolution to how Mary acts in relationship to her sister, but we do have at least 2 accounts of Mary doing the “better” thing of listening to and honoring Jesus, while Martha works. As I’ve said before, doing the work is not bad, but it’s about balance. And to this “Martha”, neither Martha nor Mary is shown with much balance. So, while I will continue to work on my Martha-like tendencies, I will still hear a nice, clear, and loud “MARE-EEEEEEEE!” in my imagination. And in my opinion (except for the instances Jesus was involved) it would be warranted. J

Heartbreaker

A Facebook friend of mine recently posted a picture of her newborn nephew. She added the caption “He’s going to be such a heartbreaker.” Why do we describe handsome boys or pretty girls as future heartbreakers? Why do we associate popularity in middle school with breaking hearts in high school? And furthermore, why do we promote this as a good thing? Having one’s heart broken, whether by people or events, is not a fun thing. Ask anyone. Heartbreak hurts, just like breaking your foot or arm hurts.  Just like physical injuries (breaks, sprains, stubbed toes), we are all bound to experience a broken heart at some point in our lives. But that doesn’t mean we want to. And why would we want our children or ourselves to be the source someone else’s heartbreak? It makes no sense to me.

                As a child, I suppose I was pretty enough. My parents, grandparents and a few close family friends always told me how beautiful I was, though I suspect I could have been very ugly and they still would have seen me as beautiful. But I was never drop-dead gorgeous. As a teen, I was quiet, studious, and a tad socially awkward. I was not a heartbreaker by any stretch of the imagination. I had friends and acquaintances that were described as such; they were beautiful girls who spoke easily to boys, flirted without meaning to, and left a trail of crushed boys in their wake. But I was not that girl. For a while, I was disappointed that I wasn’t like them. Of course, we all hope to be the girl that all the boys chase, but some of us aren’t.  In fact, I have never been overly popular with the guys, at least not like that. In college I hung out with mainly guys at church (there weren’t many college aged girls there), but they were all the big-brother type to me. Which is fine.  In fact, now I am glad I wasn’t a heartbreaker.

                I’d prefer to be a heart-mender - the person who bandages people up enough to get them to the doctor who can truly fix them up. I want to be a person who comforts the broken and gives them hope that there is a Physician out there who will completely mend their broken hearts. In fact, He will do such a good job at mending it, they will be better than new. Heartbreakers tear down, whether they mean to or not. Heart-menders build up, and take you to the Doctor. That’s what I want to be.

Challenge Accepted

A character from a television show I watch frequently has a habit. He will come up with outlandish ideas, and ask if anyone will dare or challenge him to do it. They almost never do, but he still responds with “Challenge accepted!” and try to accomplish whatever feat it is that day.  Now, hold on to that thought and go with me back to a morning in early September when I opened my daily devotional email.

            “<Jesus> never hurried. He never panicked. He was never driven by the tyranny of the urgent. If I were in his sandals, I probably would have been wringing my hands with all I had to accomplish in three and a half years. I can hear myself now: “I’ve got three and a half years to make a difference. How can I cram all the miracles and teaching into this short amount of time?”

Three and a half years translates into 1,278 days. If you go back and count the days recorded in the four gospels, you’d come up considerably short. So what was Jesus doing on the days that were not mentioned by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? He lived His life. He worked. He ate. He washed. He partied. He prayed. He studied. He meditated. He listened. The Sacred lived in the midst of the secular.

          Paul wrote: “Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God,” (1 Corinthians 10:31 NASB). Whatever you do…’ ” (Sharon Jaynes)

 
          The point of the devotional was that we can live in and for God no matter what we are doing. We can do laundry for the glory of God, grocery shop for the glory of God, etc. Even now as I am writing this, the Newsboys are singing “It’s my joy to honor you. In all I do, to honor you” on my Pandora. Not a coincidence.  God wants me to do everything in my busy life with the purpose of bringing honor and glory to Him. 
 

But there was one part of the devotional that especially got me to thinking: I can hear myself now: “I’ve got three and a half years to make a difference. How can I cram all the miracles and teaching into this short amount of time?” And it occurred to me: (It is generally accepted that) Jesus began his ministry at 30. He did all that between the ages of 30 and 33 ½. Wow! 30 always seemed so old when thinking of Jesus and his ministry, but it really isn’t old at all. I will be 30 in just a few months (as my father, sister, and a family friend are happy to remind me regularly). What if, instead of constantly lamenting that I am almost 30 and very single (the one thing I never wanted), I focused on making a difference and living as Jesus did? So, for three and a half years, beginning on my 30^th birthday in February, I am going to do whatever God tells me to, go where He sends me, strive to constantly grow closer to Him, and tell everyone I can how awesome He is. I am certain it will not be the easiest mission I’ve ever taken on. And I very well may fail. But, nonetheless: Challenge accepted.

Try Try Again

           We all make mistakes, but no one likes to admit it. Some of us even get anxious and fearful of having to admit a mistake. Why?

In my ballet and tap classes, I encourage my dancers to make mistakes and not be perfect. That is how they improve. I don’t want my dancers fearing a mistake so much that they don’t try something new.  I’d rather them try and fail than never try. I constantly tell them “I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I just care that you try your best.”  But I often don’t take my own advice. How often do I shirk back for fear of being wrong or making a mistake? And when I do make a mistake, why am I so reticent to admit my own failings?

            I once worked with someone who would treat every mistake (on others’ parts) as a call to arms, and would begin a game plan for how to handle the contingency that allowed that particular slip up. It was a very hard environment to work in, because every mistake you made became a huge deal. We began to fear the repercussions before even making a minor error. This usually led to more problems, because we weren’t confidently performing our duties.  

            Clearly no one wants to ever be wrong, or to make a mistake. It is human nature to strive for perfection, though we will never obtain it.  But making mistakes is a part of life. It is going to happen. The key is how we handle them. Do we freak out over every error? Do we brush them off and repeat our mistakes? Do we retreat to the chocolate and Diet Coke? I think the answer is to learn from them without beating ourselves up. God doesn’t enjoy our imperfections, but He does work with them, without stressing over a new policy or procedure for every mistake we can or will ever make. Throughout the Bible we are given examples of people (normal humans) who make mistakes and God works through it. Just look at the life of David! We are also given examples of people who do things that could easily become mistakes, such as Esther. How different would her story (and the bigger picture of God’s story) be if she had gotten scared of making a mistake, and allowed that fear to stop her (God’s) plan?

            At the end of the day, I don’t want to hear “You were perfect.” I want to hear “’Well done, good and faithful servant.’ You tried your best, and you let Me take care of the rest.” And drank a lot of Diet Coke in the process. :)

Not Ready Yet

                I teach dance classes: ballet, jazz, tap, and acrobatics. I love all of them, but probably most surprising is how much I love teaching acrobatics.  I was not much of a tumbler as a kid, but I found that I could teach kids to tumble. I love watching the look on their face when they finally get a backbend by themselves, and then they read my face and look at my hands to make sure I truly wasn’t helping them. :)

                There are a few phrases I hear a lot in acro classes: “I can’t do it” (which I outlaw in my class), “Just be there,” (my favorite) and “I want to do it by myself.” The timid ones tend to use the first two phrases the most, and the fearless ones favor “by myself.” I love that those kids are confident in themselves, but sometimes they are just not ready. Yesterday I had to tell two different disappointed kids that they couldn’t do something by themselves yet. I hate the look in their eye when I say “no”. They usually look angry, then hurt, and sometimes will turn away from me so they won’t cry in front of anyone. I get it- they are disappointed and frustrated. But I would be a bad teacher if I allowed them to try something alone before they had the skills needed to do it safely.  

                It is never easy to hear “no” and to realize you aren’t ready for something. Waiting is hard and growing is painful. But both are necessary. Like almost any single 29 year old woman, my singleness is something I struggle with. I will think I am at peace, and then the enemy will sneak in and give me some reason to resent where my life is at the moment. I know it is unusual, but I decided a long time ago to wait on God’s timing. He has told me He has a plan for my life, and I can see it at work! I also truly believe He has a man picked out for me, but the time is not right yet. This is a deeply personal decision, but I believe God told me not to go looking yet, but to wait on Him. So I have tried. For almost the last 10 years. I don’t seek out relationships, but wait for God to open doors and put people in front of me. Because of this policy, I don’t date much. I know people have opinions on this, but it’s between God and me. And I believe that it is right for me. But that doesn’t make it easy.  There are days I want to go searching and do it “by myself” and get to the next chapter in my life. But that isn’t His plan for me. If I skip the end of this chapter, I will miss all kinds of wonderfulness. And I will miss the natural growth He has planned for me. I will get hurt, unnecessarily.  (Don’t get me wrong- I know taking risks and getting hurt are a part of life, and I am not afraid of them. I am talking about thinking my plan is greater than God’s, which it never will be.)

                Even though they don’t like my answers all the time, my students trust me. They trust me to be there for them and catch them if they fall, and they trust that I will not set them up for failure or injury. So if I say “you’re not ready”, they will wait.  They will probably make a face, and may cry about it later, but they will trust me, and they will wait till I say “Ok. You’re ready. The time is right. Go for it.” In the same way, I will trust God. He is far better than I am, and He will never steer me wrong. I might not like it, and it might not make sense, but I will wait. And one day, He will say “The time is right. Go for it.”

Dinosaur Roar

Dinosaur……. No, I’m not talking about my phone. (But it is one!)

 I have been thinking about dinosaurs lately, probably due to a video I watched last week discussing dinosaurs and how they fit into the earth’s history.  The video is from a Christian, Creationist perspective, and deals with the dilemma many Christians face when trying to reconcile what they see in textbooks and museums with what they know from the Bible.

“Do dinosaurs exist?” I was seriously asked that question. :) Of course dinosaurs existed. We have fossils, bones, etc.  proving that dinosaurs once walked the earth. The question is:  when and how did they exist, and how does that line up with what the Bible teaches about “all man and animals” being created on the 6^th day? That was the subject of the video, and my group had an interesting discussion as we digested the thoughts presented.

But I am not a scientist, and this is isn’t even about the scientific proofs. This is just me, thinking. So, all week I have been thinking about what the video said and how it lines up with everything else I’ve ever been taught. And I realized something: I do not need indisputable proof, and I don’t need it to all make sense.   I found the video fascinating, and was very interested in some of the things that were presented that back up what I have always believed, and some things I had never even thought about. But even if I couldn’t reconcile dinosaurs with Genesis 1, I would be ok. It has always intrigued me, and I have always wondered, but I discovered this week that it wasn’t a deal breaker.  

I know dinosaurs existed, because I see the evidence. But I know God exists because I am the evidence. And I know that what God says is true, because my life shows it. And if God says all animals and man were created in one day, the 6^th day of creation, then ok. I don’t need more. I am not saying that everyone should just blindly believe or agree with me. This is personal, and for me, I am content knowing the Creator and trusting Him. I was always one of those kids who (though I challenged my parents) was secretly content with the answer “because I told you”, because I trusted them to tell me the truth and give me the answers I needed, even if they weren’t the answers I wanted.  I am the same way with God. So, no, I may never find out for sure what things were like when T-Rex and all his buddies roamed the earth, or if they went on the ark with Noah. But it’s ok.  I can always ask in heaven, if I get around to it. :)

(Not) Enough

 

Today’s online devotional was delivered to my inbox early this morning. When I clicked on it, I was greeted with “not ________ enough.” The author talked about how often we listen to Satan’s lies that we are not whatever-enough, and it boils down to us thinking we are insufficient. I can relate, as can almost any woman or teenage girl, I would imagine. I could make a whole laundry list of things I am not “enough”:  I am not loud enough, decisive enough, tall enough,  fit enough, healthy enough, unhealthy enough (oddly enough J), normal enough, cautious enough, spontaneous enough, discreet enough, smart enough, pretty enough…… and the list goes on and on. But that thinking is wrong. It’s not about being “enough” of the things I am weakest or strongest at. It is about being strong and confident in the who I am and whose I am, and humble enough to realize that I don’t have to be “enough”.

            Matthew West says it beautifully in his song, Strong Enough:  “I know I’m not strong enough to be everything that I’m supposed to be. I give up. I’m not strong enough. Hands of mercy won’t you cover me, Lord right now I’m asking you to be strong enough (strong enough) for the both of us.” It continues with my favorite part of the song, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. And I don’t have to be strong enough.”  You could take any of the words in my list and substitute them for “strong” in those lines. We don’t have to be enough of anything, because Jesus is PLENTY. Period.  All we need is to be His.  And let me tell you, on days like today, that is enough.

Hurricane

This entry has been a year in the making. It took a lot more than I thought it would to be ready to write this. Also, it's really long. Sorry!!

August 29, 2012

        The word “hurricane” is defined several ways. There is the expected scientific answer: “a violent, tropical, cyclonic storm of the western North Atlantic, having wind speeds of or in excess of 72 miles per hour” and the definition in layman’s terms: “a storm of the most intensive severity”. But there are also alternate definitions: “anything suggesting a violent storm” and “anything acting like such a wind.” The last two are my favorite. I like the reference to a violent storm because it is so applicable to life. Life is not always calm waters; sometimes we get caught in the storms of life just like we can get caught in physical storms. I also found myself captivated by “anything acting like such a wind.” It refers to a strong wind, a force you cannot see, but can feel powerfully, that moves and changes things in its path.

        All eyes this week have been turned to news and weather stations as we watch a tropical storm gather and become a hurricane. As expected, the news stations also run stories on past hurricanes to remind us of what has happened and what is possible. Throughout history, there have been several famous tornadoes, all given human names. If you say “Andrew” or “Katrina” or “Isaac” (this week at least – time will tell), images and memories are instantly conjured of homes without roofs, devastation to buildings and land, water-covered cities, and people being helicoptered out of flooded areas. You see the evidence of the storm, of the wind and rain. You remember what it caused. You can add “Irene” to that list of memory-joggers. Hurricane Irene hit the East Coast of the US in 2011, a year and a week ago. It was terrible, though not quite as destructive as Andrew and Katrina. Irene caused a lot of damage to a long stretch of coast, and is regarded as the fifth-costliest hurricane to hit the US.

        I don’t remember much about the damage Hurricane Irene caused. When I think back to that week, I have much different memories. Hurricane Irene had begun to wreak havoc through the Caribbean, but on August 23, 2011 she began to weaken. It was temporary, though, and on August 24, the storm strengthened and headed for the US. That’s about all I remember, because on August 24, 2011, I got a phone call telling me that another powerful force, my grandmother Irene Cannon, had left this earth and gone to be with God. Listening to the radio was hard that week, as the weather and news people reported on Irene’s whereabouts and work, and as they cautioned people to take shelter. My family all headed to a shelter of sorts as well – my grandmother’s house in West Virginia, to grieve with the rest of the family and say good-bye. I remember thinking I was handling it all ok, and was driving home from church or work on that Wednesday or Thursday, and then out of nowhere, the radio breaks in to report on the storm. The announcer said something (I don’t remember what) about Irene and what was happening. At the sound of my grandmother’s name, I just lost it. It is a good thing I was almost home because I started bawling as I drove in the pouring rain. I remember thinking how cruel it was that we had constant reminders of Nana every time we turned on the tv or radio that week. But then I got to thinking, and realized something. My grandmother was rather like a hurricane in her own right. She was a strong force, that often you didn’t see, but you always felt, who changed the things and people in her path. She moved quickly (though not physically) and changed path as she felt like it. She, like her stormy namesake, made a marked difference on a wide area, and left many people stunned when she was gone.

        As we traveled up to Grant Town, WV from Nashville, we traveled alongside trucks and workers headed to assist in the clean-up. We remarked how strange it was that we were headed toward the storm instead of staying in our safe little land-locked southern state. Once we arrived, we saw a similar pack of workers who swept in to assist with the after-math of our own private hurricane. People whose names I don’t remember or maybe never knew prepared meals, cleaned up, and forced my aunt to eat. People who came to check on us and make sure we had what we needed. It was our own little emergency response agency. They were there because they too had been touched by Irene (Nana) and missed her presence as well, and all they knew to do was make sure we all were ok.

        We lived a version of Hurricane Irene personally last year. And now as the country watches Hurricane Isaac, I sit on the sidelines as people I mostly don’t know live in the middle of a similar storm. A very godly woman who I never met went home to the Lord yesterday. I was privileged to hear about her testimony from others and to read her and her sister’s (I think!) blog entries about God’s faithfulness and their commitment to praise Him in the face of a horrifying cancer diagnosis and fight. I read yesterday that Sara didn’t want people to say she had “lost her battle with cancer” but rather she had won her battle, and now lived with her Savior. I thought that was so beautiful. I have also been encouraged by all the Facebook and blog posts about how this young wife and mother inspired people to be more godly, loving Christians, and to “savor the day.” I found it interesting that Isaac achieved hurricane status the same day Sara received the greatest reward we can hope for – the beginning of eternity with God.

 I read in a blog/journal post that it was not coincidence that Sara left this earth on 8-28, and that her nephew was memorizing Romans 8:28 this month. I agree, and for the most part, I don’t believe in coincidence. I think that when things look almost like they were designed that way, they actually were, not by human hands, but by the Creator himself. God knows how our brains work, and He knows what will get our attention. I believe wholeheartedly that He “works all things together for good” and that He has a perfect plan. I do not think it was coincidence that I read that first blog post from Sara that someone had shared on Facebook months ago. I don’t think it was a coincidence that I read her sister’s post mentioning the 8-28 thing right after I read a weather report on Isaac. I don’t think it is a coincidence that there is another hurricane with an “I” name almost exactly a year after Irene, which shared my grandmother’s name.

God knows what He is doing, even when we don’t have a clue. He has a plan, and He will take care of us. All we have to do is love and trust Him. He will send the people and events into our lives that we need just at the right moment.  He already sent Jesus, His own son, at just the right moment to save us all for eternity. Who could ask for more than that?