what God will be joining together
One of my college friends is getting married today. I was planning to go to the wedding, but just about everything that could go wrong -- did. So, here I am, in front of my computer, wishing I was just about to pull up to a small white country church in York, Maine.
In just 1 hour and 17 minutes, my friend Mat will be joining his life with another. What a wild concept -- gathering your friends and family to watch as you promise to stick by another person. Another person who may have mood swings and bad days, and allergies, and sinus infections, and ingrown toenails and broken bones. This person may lose their job or they may get promoted. There's no way to know what might happen with this other person, but there you are -- in front of an altar, blindly stepping into this commitment where you have no idea where the years may take you.
This whole commitment is such an awesome picture of our relationship with God. God looks at
us with our mood swings and bad days and allergies and sinus infections, and He says --
I'm with you, I'm with you through it all. For better or for worse, for rich or for poor, nothing can separate Me from you. I'm here, and I always will be. There's nothing we can do to make Him love us more or less -- He loves us as we are, and He accepts us as we come.
So, today, my friend Matthew Scott McFarland, as you gaze down the aisle at your beautiful bride walking toward you, may you be as God to her. May you love her forever and ever, even through the icky moments and the grumpy days. May you completely enjoy the wife of your youth, and may you cherish the wife of your golden years. May the Lord lead you forward together and bless your union, for you know that it is a creation of His. Always trust in Him, always hope in Him, and always persevere in Him, and He will bring trust, hope, and perserverence into your relationship.
I am so happy for you and the journey that lies ahead of you. I speak now and I hold onto this peace forever.
balloon animals and crocodile tears
This past weekend, my mom and I took my nieces to a party at one of the local Christian bookstores. There were prizes, and snacks, and grown women dressed up as large life-sized vegetables, and CLOWNS. Really, I think they were just someone's grandparents dressed up in goofy clown-like clothes ... but for all the kids knew, they were the real deal. And they were making balloon animals. My niece decided she wanted a hummingbird. So she got a hummingbird. Meanwhile my younger niece had chosen an elephant. So they got their creatures, and we took off with our goodies (most of which were being carried by my mom and I as my nieces skipped to the car).
It was a nice day out, so we decided to drive to the playground. The girls were sitting in the backseat, happily playing with their new pets ... and all of a sudden,
POP. My mom jumped, which was a little unnerving because she was the one driving. I turned around and saw the priceless look on my niece's face as she realized that the noise had come from one of the wings on her hummingbird. For a minute I really had to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. But then I saw her eyes, and laughing was the furthest thing from my mind. Her little 6-year-old blue eyes were welling up with tears, and then came the wailing. She was sobbing. I mean the kind of sobbing where you can't even get out full words because you're gasping for air. And the tears that were rolling down her cheeks ... I've never seen tears that big, or so frequent. They were seriously pouring down her face, leaving a big wet spot on her little tie-dyed tanktop. I did my best to comfort her from my seat in the front, and eventually her wails turned to little whimpers.
In the meantime, my niece Bekah was just sitting there staring at Sarah and holding onto her purple elephant friend. All of a sudden her face lit up with a smile. I was just about to scold her for teasing her sister (something they do often to each other), and then I saw her hold out her elephant towards the teary-eyed Sarah. She gave her the elephant! She told her that she "didn't need to be sad anymore, because she had a new animal."
Oh my goodness. I almost started crying myself as I learned yet another lesson from these little people who are less than a quarter of my age. I know that the elephant was important to my niece, she had been hugging it ever since we left the store. But she saw her sister's pain, and she wanted to ease it. She knew she was holding onto something that could help. And even though it might have saddened her to do so, she gave up what she had so that her sister could be happy again.
Kinda reminds me of a different story. Only it's not about a purple balloon elephant -- it's about a thing called salvation. Just like my niece had been playing pretty rough with her hummingbird, we play pretty rough with the things in our life. Then we get surprised when something breaks and we can't fix it. But I saw God in the hands of little 4-year-old Bekah that day, as she gave up something that she valued and loved, so that her sister could be happy. The offer of the purple balloon elephant is there for each of us. We can't fix the hole in the wing of our own balloon, but God is holding out a new balloon to each of us. And we don't need to be sad anymore, because we have something new.
the smell i love the most
I'm listening to "Sho Heen" by Kate Rusby. I think I could probably just close my eyes right now, right here at my desk, inside my little office with the drab gray carpet and dull white walls, while the sun teases me through the windows, and drift away ... drift off to a far away place where silly questions don't bump around in my head, and where I can laugh at everything and nothing, and cry at the beauty of it all.
But the song ended, and I'm still here. Still here in my office where I try not to look out the window too much, because I know it will only remind me that this is exactly where I said I would never be: sitting at a desk, staring at a computer all day.
Oh, aren't I the cheerful girl today. I don't know what's going on with me -- I've been in this weird funk lately. Ah, as if God is giving me an answer, here's the next song on my iTunes lineup: "Everything Means Nothing" by Late Tuesday. Ha. Could it have something to do with these tricky feelings I'm trying to stifle? I'm not even sure what they are, but I know they're nothing I want to deal with right now. I think it has something to do with the approach of autumn. This is my favorite season of the year, and I guess I hold onto these pictures of what I think autumn looks like ... walking through piles of crunchy leaves, cuddling up next to a crackling campfire, hand-holding and long hugs. I don't know where I get these pictures. I don't even know when was the last time I was actually in a relationship with someone, and it happened to be the fall. Maybe it's because fall is full of my favorite things: stark beauty in creation, crisp air, clear night skies, perfect long-walk weather ... so I want to share these things with someone.
And then there's the smell that for some reason I always associate with fall, even though it could just as easily be a summer smell. The smell of a campfire ... even more when it's the lingering type that's there in the morning when I wake after a night of being with friends around a fire. The other night was one of those nights. I had dinner at my friend Kristen's house, and we sat around the firepit outside for hours afterward and talked. And when I woke up the next morning, I didn't want to take a shower, because I wanted to keep that smell with me all day ... but don't worry, I did shower. And as I washed that sweet smell out of my hair, I had to remind myself that there will be more campfires, and more friends, and I can't hold onto them forever. This life is one that needs to be lived with open hands. Campfires and clear skies are things of beauty, as are good friends and strong coffee. But they are nothing that I can hold onto, as if they were somehow
mine. They are things that come into and out of my life, and in order to truly love them, I need to keep a very loose grip on them.
Wow, I really need to get out of this funk.
walking with a lighter step
I did it.
I got my hair cut short. Here's the thing that stinks ... I have been thinking about getting it cut short for a while, but I haven't had a chance to get over there to see the chic who cuts my hair ... In the meantime, three or four different girls I know got theirs cut short ... so now it looks like I'm just riding on the coattails of some new hairstyle trend.
Truth is, I'm a short-hair girl at heart. It suits me. I don't like the fuss or the time commitment that seems to come with long hair, or even medium-length hair. Wash and go, that's me. I'm hoping this get up and go attitude will permeate the rest of my life. I want to be someone who walks through this world with a lighter step. I don't want to get weighed down like my hair seemed to be as it got longer ... I want to be free to get up and jump into my day, and into my life. I don't want to have to fuss around with unimportant things. I want my life and my attitude and my faith to be clean and simple. Oh, there's depth ... but it's a clean depth, because it's not all murked up and muddled by my attempts to make it clear ... instead, it's simple and lucid and not all marred by my touch.
Or maybe I was just tired of my neck getting hot. Maybe there's nothing more to it than that. I don't know.
congratulations?????
What a weird day.
I got all kinds of "good" news today from some co-workers on my team ... someone got engaged last night, and another person recently got pregnant. All kinds of congratulations are in order, right?
Well ... does it change things if I mention that the person with the new, sparkly engagement ring has been living with her fiance for about 4 years now? How about if I mention that the new mother-to-be will be raising her child with her lesbian commonlaw wife?
Please don't misunderstand ... I know there are things in my life that could be held up to the light for everyone to see how ugly and warped they are ... but I don't expect people to congratulate me on the screwed up state of my life. And I'm not sure I'm ready to congratulate other people on the twisted state of theirs. Call me a killjoy, call me judgmental (even though I don't think I am), but please don't call me a celebrator of stuff that shouldn't be celebrated.
my strong goat heart
I'm a goat, I'm a goat, I'm a goat-goat-goat.
And I'm weird, I know.
I have all kinds of stuff to write, but it all seems much too deep and intense for the type of day that today is.
So instead, I'll tell you what kind of goat I am.
Thanks,
Stephanie.
You are Gregory the Terrible Eater! You would
prefer vegetables or fruits to tin cans and
tires. Other goats think you're crazy, but
don't worry little goat, your heart is strong,
and your will will prevail!
What kind of goat are you? brought to you by Quizilla
some peace last night
What an amazing night last night was. And so perfectly orchestrated. Originally, I had plans to have dinner with some friends of mine ... if that had happened, we probably would have just hung out at my friend Kristen's house all night and goofed around on the piano and guitar. No doubt a great time would have been had, but my destiny was elsewhere ... two of the four dinner party guests got sick and our get-together was cancelled. Suddenly I found myself with a free evening -- a rare occurence lately.
So I looked online for events in the city. There was a jam/funk band concert I already knew about, happening right after work, just a few blocks away. But yesterday was another one of those draining days, and I didn't really feel up to fighting my way through a patchouli-scented, drunken mob. So I kept looking. Hm ...
Martha's Trouble ... that name sounds familiar. There were some song clips on the site, so I half-heartedly clicked and waited ... my computer speakers will never again be the same. I don't think they have ever emitted such sweet music in the entire time that I have possessed them. I was rendered motionless -- I could do nothing but sit and listen to the sweet sounds filling my office. How is it possible that I never heard this before? A few minutes later I was on the phone with Charlie (the only other remaining healthy person from the evening's intended dinner party) ... and I put the phone up to one of my speakers. That was all I needed to do to convince him to go to the concert with me. Little did we know of the beauty that awaited us.
We set off on our trek to the newly discovered, but extremely cool,
venue. The ambience itself in the place was worth the measly $ 5 cover charge. We caught the end of the previous act, then sat and waited for the anticipated band to take the stage. From the moment Rob and Jen stepped out onto the dimly lit platform, I knew the next few hours were going to be great. There was just something about them, I can't explain it. And as soon as the first words flowed from Jen's lips, I was entranced. The next 100 something minutes are definitely up there with the best ever ... as I listened to Jen's words, I felt like I was listening to an old friend, a friend who could completely understand where I was coming from and what I was thinking. It was uncanny, and almost a little eerie. At a couple points during the show, when I was actually able to pick my chin up off the floor and tear my eyes from the stage, I leaned over to talk to Charlie, and found out that he felt the same way ... somehow Rob and Jen had read our minds, snuck into our thoughts, and written them into amazing songs.
Anyway, I could go on and on ... but needless to say, it was a great show. The cherry on an already perfect sundae was after the show, when we were able to hang out for probably somewhere close to a couple hours (I have no concept of time from when we walked in the door to when we walked out of it) and talk to them. Those original thoughts were confirmed. These two incredibly talented artists (and their bassist Wade, who I didn't talk to that much) were so down-to-earth and so incredibly ... much like us ... that I had to remind myself that we really didn't know them before last night, and we still don't
really know them ...
We talked about chasing dreams, and living in the moment, and the sombering sense of responsibility that comes from owning real furniture. It was good. I know this post isn't even doing it justice, but it almost seems like the goodness of the night will be cheapened if I keep writing about it.
Anyway, all that to say, it was a really good night. If you want to hear some music that helps you remember that you're actually alive (and maybe reminds you of why, too), check these kids out. In a gray landscape of music that leaves you feeling empty and sad, Martha's Trouble is a welcome
sign of life.
give me love in my tank
Over the weekend, I took a lil' roadtrip with the fam ... and it was good. Aside from the show we went to see, I didn't do a whole lot but sit in the back of a mini-van and read Dr. Seuss books to my nieces (with the voices and all), but it was good.
On the trip back home, I had a few minutes of my own while my nieces were sleeping, and I dug around for the book that I brought with me. Turns out it was in the other car, but in the meantime I stumbled across a book that my sister is reading ... "The Five Love Languages," by Gary Chapman. That's right, I said
luvvvvvv. Something I don't think about too much myself these days, but the car was quiet and I was awake, so I figured maybe it was meant to be that I check out this book.
Well, I only got a couple chapters into it before the little munchkin woke up and wanted me to do the SpongeBob voice ... but still, there was good stuff in those couple chapters. I apologize to Mr. Chapman and to anyone else who may actually have read the book and had more than 20 minutes to process it ... but here's one thing that I remember reading. Something about how we all have these "tanks" inside of us. Sort of the same idea as gas tanks (and no, I'm not saying we're all full of gas) ... but instead of running on gas like a car does, we run on love. And depending on how our tanks are filled or not filled when we're younger, we are more (or less) prepared and equipped to love others. It made lots of sense when I read it -- maybe it's not making quite so much sense now that I'm writing it.
Anyway, yesterday I was walking to the garage after an icky day at work, and for some reason the whole "love tank" idea popped into my head. I was feeling grumpy, and I wasn't feeling like talking to much of anyone. And then the guy behind the counter at the hotel (my parking garage is actually a hotel parking garage) caught my glance as I was desperately trying to make it to the escalator without actually establishing any type of human contact. He grabbed my glance and refused to let go ... and he shouted out (across the somewhat crowded lobby), "rough day there, honey?" I think I muttered something like a "yeh, it was long" or something similarly friendly. And he said, "Well, at least the rest of it is yours now, to actually enjoy. I hope it gets better. Now don't you forget to smile there." Seriously, he said these things to me. And I just sort of grunted in his general direction and made my way up the escalator. As I moved up toward the garage level, I realized that I felt a tiny bit better than I had when I walked into the lobby. And I knew that of course, it had something to do with the kinds words spoken by this man whose name I don't even know. And this is when the love tank thing came to mind. With a twist.
Wouldn't it be cool if we had these indicators that showed how much love we had in us, or if we needed to refuel? Sort of the same idea as the little indicators on our car dashboard (the indicator that I usually choose to challenge to see how "low" my fuel
really is) ... but somewhere on the outside of us. Like on our forehead or our arm or something ... a flashing light telling everyone around us that we are desperately in need of a little lovin' before we shut down. In truth, this isn't something I should even think would be helpful ... because we all need love, pretty much
all the time. But still, it would be helpful to see who needs it a little more, maybe ... like if you're in a crowded room, and you see lots of half-full love tanks, and you're sort of milling about with the halfsies ... then you spot a single person whose indicator is glowing red that she is way past the E mark and on her way to stalling out ... and you see this person leaving the room ... wouldn't you want to run after this person and pour some love out on her, because otherwise she might not even make it home?
I don't know, call me crazy, maybe I want things too easy ... maybe it's really about adding a little bit to each tank wherever we go. But keep me near the gas station ... I want to have a full tank myself, so I can share a little here and there.
random sightings of new life
So, I started this post last Friday, and I never got back to it. I guess
started isn't the right word, as all I really did was put a title out there. But there was an idea behind the title, and I'm thinking the idea might have faded a little bit by now.
Last Friday morning I was on my way to the office, and I noticed a small group of people gathered around one of the enormous stone planters that lines Main St. of downtown. So, of course, like any normal, breathing human being, I wondered what was going on. I was already headed that direction anyway, sort of ... so I just took a small detour to allow my nosey self to surface and find out what these people were looking at. Well, the detour was worth the 2 minutes it cost me. As I drew closer to the planter, I spotted a cute little fuzzy duckling. At first I thought there was just somehow 1 little duckling hiding there among the plants ... but then I saw the momma. The momma duck who was birthing a few more cute little ducklings. Imagine, me stumbling along the sidewalk on my way to the office, thinking only of my coffee and the boring day that awaits me ... and being interrupted by this miracle of life, happening right in front of me. Ok, so maybe it was only a bird and some little baby birds ... but it was amazing. And I got to see it. I mean, how often do we really stop and stare at the wonder of this thing called life? How often do we get our eyes off ourselves enough to realize that there is new life all around us ... either in the form of fuzzy baby ducks, or in the form of people who are experiencing the new existence that comes from realizing there's something more than this crazy world that we tromp around in? Not often enough ... at least in my case.
One of the people standing by the planter was a city maintenance guy, and I asked him what they would do now with the ducks. He said he was going to pretend for a few days that he didn't see them, because basically otherwise his job would be to remove the animals from the planter and put them in a more "safe" environment. He smiled as he said to me, "they deserve a little time to get used to things, don't you think? No sense in rushing them." Wisdom from the lips of a guy whose job it is to sweep cigarette butts off the sidewalk and drive one of those goofy-looking sidewalk plows in the winter. I agreed with him, thinking about how often we are in such a hurry to get moving with things.
When we're kids, we can't wait until we're teens ... when we're teens, we can't wait to go to college ... in college, we obsess about our future careers or our future spouses ... when we get married or get into a career, we constantly think of the "next step" ...
Should I have kids? How many kids should I have? How can I get promoted? When can I retire? Maybe we should instead think about getting used to things, where we're at. Look around you, and enjoy the shade of the plants in the enormous stone planter where you found new life. No sense in rushing things.
