the Choosing

the love story to me is so fascinating because there is a moment when the choosing takes place. maybe it happens in the first moment, or the twentieth moment, or the two thousandth moment. maybe it happens after months of agonizing, romanticizing, pursuing, and considering. maybe it happens after a brush with death, or with illness, or with loss. maybe it's a slowing dawning, a tender awakening, a silent warmth spreading within. regardless, the moment arrives, usually at the proposal.

the choosing is pivotal, it is historical.

the choosing is permanent, it is final.

the choosing is long-lasting and it is legacy creating.

the choosing is an indelible mark in time, a shift that cannot be reversed.

it's truly fascinating.

boy meets girl.

girl falls in love.

boy proposes.

boy and girl marry.

legacy begins.

consider these words,

"The Lord said to me,

I chose you before I gave you life,

and before you were born I selected you"

not by merit or by beauty, not by tragedy or brilliance, not be effort or humility, not by grace, or kindness, or hope, or faith, or strength, or talent, or skill, or tenacity.

You were chosen before you saw your self...sight unseen to your eye.

You were chosen before you accomplished and were awarded, before you sinned and before you failed.

You were chosen.

You were loved.

You are.

And that kind of choosing, though I struggle to fathom it's depth, is breathtaking.

consistent

Currently, I am consistently inconsistent.

It can be counted on that I will fly away from routine,

run from procedure,

buck any kind of stability,

ignore personal discipline,

and mock all who thrive in this state.

Consistency rains down on any parade,

it snuffs out any fire,

it doesn't take time to smell flowers,

drive a new way to work,

take the long way home.

Consistency expects sameness, hates changes,

demands a plan and expects perfect execution.

So, why is it that truly capable, successful, thriving leaders understand consistency?

And how do I get there without re-programming who I am?

the experience of pain

Teeth gritting,

Fist pumping pain;

Pain that is relentless, unimaginable, confusing, stunning, vivid.

This first experience of pain is like no other because there is no reference point, no reason and we are reasoning beings.

While we may not agree, with logic can come acceptance.

But pain for pain's sake is disturbing.

Laying on the couch, groaning, agitated, exhausted, my daughter struggles to sleep.

Willing and praying, hoping and begging the pain away, I can do no one thing to ease her burden.

If I could, I would take it from her. Remove her burden. Release her from the depths, the darkness of pain. But I can't. Helplessly, I watch.

And then, through tests and scans, doctor's assessment and diagnosis, a reason is found, but not solved; and the pain, while managed, will not disappear.

It's a first experience with pain.

Is it necessary? Needed? Required for full life-living?

a birthday blessing

first born; set a part, uniquely designed with a plan in mind

son, may you flourish in this year of growing and learning and exploring

you matter. you are significant. you have abundance of blessing; seek it out, pursue it, be guided by it and driven to it. trust in God, seek His voice, thrive in His love and be filled with His truth.

go beyond what you have already been, seek further than you have gone,

and know that love formed you, love carries you, and love fills you.

thirteen

Thirteen. Thirteen! Thirteen?

An official teenager; although in my mind you've been older than your age for years.

I pray great blessings on you as you venture into teenhood.

May your days be filled with marvelous mystery; learning and appreciating and celebrating the life you've been given.

May your nights be spent in restful slumber; dreaming of all that is to come, possibilities and potentialities....

May you know you are loved, may you grow in your faith, and may your hope burn brightly in the year ahead!

Happy Birthday to my daughter.

rant and rave

rant and rave

i've been on this rant for the last year and a half. ashamedly, it began with the tween sensation of the twilight saga books. let me explain. my then eleven-year-old daughter asked if I'd approve of her reading Twilight, New Moon, etc... I was skeptically cautious. It sounded scandalous. Christians don't read about werewolves and vampires. it was like the next step toward hell, the first step being harry potter. so i deliberated. i wondered. i don't think i prayed. and then, something really weird happened. I picked up the books and began to ready. voraciously. i couldn't put it down. I became bella. I didn't eat. literally. i lost about twenty pounds as i balanced work, home, and reading. i rediscovered the joy, the ectstacy of reading. (as a child, i'd stay up late, reading every word, every paragraph)

so I am consumed by this story, competing with my daughter for the books as we checked them out. we'd discuss the story line. relate it to realism. talk about the adventure, the thrill.

this marked a turning point. i discovered the love story. again. anew.

i read the classics, the jane austin stuff, the victorian age, the contemporary stuff. i learned about trash-literature, the fast food graphic porn-like stuff. i quickly discarded that. i learned about the christian writers-those romantic men and women who wrote about the struggle, the joy, and the passion of love. i was hooked.

book after book was toted from the library, i read hundreds of books. absorbing them, studying them, analyzing them. it was a rant like no other.

and so i would travel to the library, like i normally do, when i visited the used books that were for sale. and for fifty cents, i bought blue like jazz.

in 12 hours, i've read through much of it (between sleep, a state science fair exhibition, lunch with grandma and a sick child) and i am raving the candid thoughts, the gutsy monologue. donald miller has some stuff to say and i am listening.

where do i find dinner?

i'm lost.

i need a map.

where do i find dinner?

between the work schedule and the family schedule and the individualized-personalities of what each favors, amid the weekday and weeknight landmines of shifting schedules and the vector-beam pull of the direct tv line up and the modified diets due to surgery resulting in needing a peace-filled, tranquil landscape of soloism, where do i find the good-old-fashioned family of five eating together for dinner?

does it matter? for meal upon meal i didn't think so. BUT, i awoke with a startling thought at 3:40 a.m. this morning, horrified of the state of my family and it's degradation of the benefits of the family meal.

benefits, i say? benefits. and they are many.

health, planning and nutrition and balance and....to prepare a meal for another is an act of love and service and nutritional consideration.

social connections of the highs and lows of our days, the bond-unbreakable, the humor and effort of forming sentence after sentence in fluid and not so fluid conversation. the exchange of thought, the rhythm of words streaming together without the engine of electricity and keyboard and touchpad and text. Face-to-face, in real time at real speed and with real error and.....

the spiritual burst of praying and sharing and explaining and exploring faith.

where do i find dinner? i'm lost. i got lost along the way. it's a lonely crusade back to the top of this pile of spaghetti, but i aim to see it through.

tonight's pancakes.

one down. a million more meals to go.