Galloping

Mental battles.  Aren't they the greatest?  I recently found myself fighting a big one.  Epic.  It was keeping me up at night and dominating all my quiet moments. 

Long story short, I was completely over-analyzing a situation.  I was deconstructing all of my words and actions, and wondering how people interpreted them.  Did they read things this way?  That way?  Sideways?  I hope they didn't read it that way.  Or *that* way.  Yikes.  What if they did?  I bet they did.  I bet they're angry / hurt / suspicious / disgusted / disappointed.  I bet they think I'm a horrible person. I bet.... the downward, fearful spiral was out of control. 

Do you ever have a memory so vivid you can almost hear it out loud? In the middle of my mental hurricane, I suddenly heard my father's voice:  "If you tell goin' by on a gallopin' horse..."

I was nine years old, helping my Dad finish our basement.  We were working on cutting paneling for the wall at the base of the stairs.  I was as much of a perfectionist then as I am now.  And I was getting really... um... specific... (and frustrated) with this one line in the wall. 

Dad: It's fine. Grandpa used to tell me "If you can't tell goin' by on a gallopin' horse, it doesn't matter."

Me: *pointing out the obvious flaw in his statement* But you couldn't even see this from a galloping horse.

Dad:  Exactly.

Me:  Oh. *insert mental click here* 

Those words brought peace to my storm.  They snapped me out of my fearful spiral and allowed me a moment of clarity to remember that I spoke and acted the way I always would -- from a clean, sincere, loving heart. 

 

Suddenly all those condemning thoughts were miraculously silenced.

 

Sometimes details are important.  But sometimes being wrapped up in tiny imperfections is just counterproductive.  And I don't think there's ever a time when it's useful to worry about things I don't know or can't control.   

 

"If you can't tell goin' by on a gallopin' horse..."

 

Thanks Dad.  I needed to hear that.

Cleary

Ever since the speakers in my car decided they'd had enough, the times I spend in my car have become wonderful periods of reflection.  During one such time (driving home in the wee hours of the morning after watching Game 6 of the Red Wings / Blackhawks series), I had an epiphany.  Maybe because it's Stanley Cup season and I always have hockey on the brain.  Maybe it's because I feel guilty for not having a "word of the year."  I don't know.  But that morning I realized: 

I'm totally having "Cleary" kind of year.

I like Danny Cleary.  I've liked him ever since I was introduced to the wonderful sport of hockey.  He isn't a headliner like Zetterburg or Franzen.  He's not a living legend like Lidstrom or Datsyuk.  He's just a hardworking grinder who gets things done.  His work ethic is bar none.  He's a heart and soul player who truly loves his team. Every once in a while he gets to come into the spotlight, but most of the time Cleary's contributions are behind the scenes.  

 

My schedule hasn't really stopped since I came back from Uganda.  I have a highlight or two in there, but most of the time I've just been grinding away at everyday life.   (I suppose they don't call it the daily grind for nothing.)  It's been demanding.  But I'm taking a lesson from hockey.  Sometimes, it's those things that go on beneath the radar that make all the difference. 

Since it's graduation season, I'm seeing "11"s everywhere.  So perhaps it's no accident that 2011 should be a Cleary year for me.  Now that I've seen it, I want to embrace it -- to put my heart and soul in everything I do and attack this year with a work ethic that would make Dan Cleary proud.

Encouragement

“There is no effect more disproportionate to its cause than the happiness bestowed by a small compliment." ~ Robert Brault

This morning, I fired up my blog reader and saw this post by my friend Jen: "Hot Dogs."  As soon as I read the title, I wondered to myself, "Do they have any hot dogs left from the batch I was able to bring in January?"  Sure enough, they do!  And not only are they being enjoyed by Jen and her family, but by their friends too.  I can't tell you how happy her post made me.

But my reader wasn't finished with me yet.  A few entries later I saw a post by my friend Marie: "Simplify."  Just seeing the picture in her post made me smile, and then I got to read the rest of it too.

Don't laugh at me, but after reading those two posts this morning, I was trying not to cry in my little work cubicle.  I was having one of "those" days.  A day when I was questioning, and wondering, and just trying to keep the rhythm going.  We all have those days.  Two little "thank you"s turned it all around.  They quietly shouted to me that my life is leaving the kind of ripples of which I can be very proud. 

Jen, Marie...you made my day.  Thank you.

Compulsion

Have you ever experienced a craving?  Like coffee in the morning?  Chicken soup on a cold night?  French fries when you're on a diet? Cravings like that just latch onto your mind and don't let go.  They needle at you.  Growing more and insistent until you everything you see starts looking and smelling like the thing you're craving you finally just have to cave and give in.  The object of your affection leaves you little choice.

When I was in Uganda, I had the privilege of leading a youth group meeting.  Kenna suggested that I open the discussion time by asking everyone to give their name and an answer to a silly question.  I thought that was a pretty good idea, so I did.  My question:  "What is your favorite junk food."  The topic was fresh in our minds since I had brought two suitcases of junk food with me.  (No, that's not an exaggeration.) 

I casually listened to several of the responses, and then one of my new friends said the magic word.  "Brownies."  Suddenly, after all my careful preparation, my mind was distracted.  Brownies.  Mmmmm.  Delicious. 

All through the rest of the lesson, I had had a picture of a brownie in the back of my head.  Of course, when I picture brownies they are usually accompanied by ice cream.  And peanut butter.  And whipped cream.  But that's beside the point.  I could *almost* hear the crunch of a corner piece as it gives way to the soft and chewy center.  My taste buds were in that place where actual taste is just beyond their reach but so close they can't help but water.  Are you getting the picture?

Needless to say we made brownies later that night.

And when we did, they were delectable.  The fulfillment of a craving is a beautiful thing.  After all that longing and dreaming and working and waiting and smelling...when the brownie finally made contact, time stopped for a minute.  I closed my eyes and sighed a little sigh of happiness and contentment.  You know the one.

That's the picture I get when I read: "Christ’s love compels us."

What would my day look like if I was driven, compelled, commanded by Christ's love the way I was compelled by that brownie?  


"If we are “out of our mind,” as some say, it is for God... For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all... and he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again." ~ 2 Corinthians 5:13-15

Journal

I've been organizing some old drawers and boxes, and I rediscovered this treasure.  While it's not dated, I would place my handwriting around middle school.  While I was reading it, Brad Paisley's song "Letter to Me" popped into my head.  But unlike Brad's example, this letter is from a young me to a present me.

Dear God,

Thank you for all the things I take for granted...a family that loves you and parents that raised me to love you, a sister that I can live with without going insane.  For friends that I have fun being around that love you too.  For people I can talk to when I need to that knock me in line when I mess up.

Thank you for dying and saving me.  Thank you for choosing me.  Thank you for all the times you direct my way and I'm not aware of it.  Thank you for your promises that will always be true.

Thank you for changing me from what I was.  Thank you for never giving up on me when almost everyone else did.  Thank you for bearing my burdens and giving me joy and peace that passes all understanding.  Thank you for my calling and what the future holds.  Even when I'm uncertain, I know you will always lead me where you want me to go.

Thank you for being my daddy, for holding me in your arms when I'm hurting and comforting me when I feel alone.  Thank you for rejoicing with me in the good times too.  Thank you for the times when you have to correct me and I become a better person through it.

Thank you for Heritage where there are men and women of God who seek your face without shame.  Thank you fro your spirit and anointing every Sunday that comes through our Pastor.  Thank you for allowing me to grow up seeing miracles and prophesies and healings.  Thank you for awakening me from my church-brat-ness so that I'm no longer a hindrance but a help. 

God I would write forever.  I'm so thankful for what you have done and continue to do for me.  I can't write it on paper, but Lord I know you can understand my heart.

I love you,
Regina

To have a thankful heart, to trust God through a period as rough and confusing as middle school, to be a help and not a hindrance, to simply love God as much as I know how -- Thank you, little me, for writing it down and hiding it away so I could find it again.

Devil's Snare

Ever try to hide hurt behind a smile?  "Fake it till you make it?"  I can remember a season in my life when I was determined to be happy.

I had experienced some profound disappointment and heartbreak, but I wanted to stubbornly cling to my silver linings.  I tried to be intellectual and count all the the things I had going for me.  I wanted to find the good in the bad and just make it a part of my experience going forward.  I tried throwing myself into my work, my passions, and my friendships.

I was terrified to acknowledge how much I was hurting and grieving.  I thought it made me ungrateful and a failure.  After all, I live in the land of plenty, my life is filled with relationships, and I have this faith that is supposed to buoy me up in rough times.  I didn't feel that I had any right to be as down as I was.  Admitting that I was depressed and discouraged was conceding defeat to a battle I didn't want to admit I was fighting.  And shouldn't my faith be stronger than that anyway?

I wanted to be a good Christ follower and live as a person of hope and joy.  And I thought I was pulling it off pretty well.  Sure, I had some dark thoughts and emotional moments.  But I told myself that I get to choose how I will face each moment, and I would choose the path of peace and happiness.

I had myself convinced.  I thought I was putting on a decent show.

But I wasn't fooling anyone around me.

After a time (a fairly long time actually), I confided in a friend and told them I was struggling.  I admitted to being not just depressed, but weary and frustrated as well.  And as the words started pouring out, I was finally able to put a picture and a description to all the "stuff" that had just been swirling around inside.

I called it "Devil's Snare."  The harder I tried to fight it, the tighter its hold.  I felt like Ron in the movie.  Hermione:  "You have to relax. If you don't, it'll only kill you faster!"  Ron:  "Kill me faster?!  Now I can relax!" Of course, he makes this exclamation as he struggles harder than ever.  And just like Hermione, my friend had to remind me how to defeat deadly Devil's Snare.  Light and letting go.

Devil's Snare can't stand light.  And I needed the help of a friend to shed the light on what I was feeling.  I had to let go.  To drop the mask and the pretense and fully acknowledge my hurt and pain.  Once I did that, the tentacles loosed their hold and I was able to pass through to the other side.  Now, just to be clear...it didn't magically wipe everything away.  But it was so refreshing and empowering to not pretend to myself.  And my "Regina-ness" came back quicker than I ever thought possible.

I learned my lesson.  That picture of Devil's Snare has helped me to fend off other dark times.  I'm not afraid to admit to having a down day now and again.  Inviting light and truth into those days helps more than I can say.  So for anyone who may be fighting a similar battle, let me encourage you.  It's ok to be pulled in two different directions by warring thoughts.  Devil's Snare can take many forms.  Don't get caught up in the fight.  Even if your mask fools the mirror, it's not really fooling those who love and care for you.  Acknowledge it.  Accept it.  Shed some light, and let it go.  If you don't fight it, and if you allow light and truth into the situation, those snaring tentacles will flee and you'll emerge unscathed (though probably changed) on the other side.

Psalm 18:28 "My God turns my darkness into light."

Ugly

This is an ugly lampshade.  When I bought it, I astounded even the store owners.  "You're going to pay that much...for that?  Really?"  (It cost about the same as a nice lunch.)  They had only stocked the items as a sort of favor.  I assured them, "It's ok.  I have  friend who loves ugly things.  You have no idea how perfect this gift is, and how much she will love it."  I don't think they were convinced.  But that's ok.

Upon initial review, it just looks quirky.  Orange and blue maze fabric?  Ok.  Creatively colored chicken?  Um, sure.  But stick a light bulb underneath the quirky shade, and it just looks like trash.  Because that's what it is -- half of a discarded plastic bottle with a bit of paint and paper.

What makes it perfect and beautiful for my friend is the story behind it.  The lampshade was made by street children in Uganda, and the proceeds from the sale go to a charity that is helping them to make their life better.  (Though, I think my friend would love it even without the story.  She really does love ugly things.) 

I feel a camaraderie with this lamp shade.  Upon initial review I'm colorful and quirky.  But illuminate me to the core and all my flaws become starkly apparent.  And it's not all that pretty.  But that's part of the testimony right?  I have a story.  I've been picked up and re-purposed.  Every time I let that light shine through my flaws and weaknesses, it's a chance for me to share that story.  (You paid how much?  For that?)  And the proceeds go to further a cause that brings life and hope into the dark places of this world. 

I'm loved...just as an ugly lampshade...chickens and mazes and all.  My story is just the bonus and a chance to share the light.

I'm so thankful I have a friend who loves ugly things.