The Less Project: Looking Backward

Merry Belated Christmas to you and yours!  

Meet P. Fitzwilliam Darcy, better known as Fitz.

I hope your season was--and is--bright with the Light of Christ. 

Amen.

May I confess that I've started and discarded a dozen posts this month.  With my classes on hold until January, this month seemed the perfect time to return to blogging.

Only it wasn't.

This post, however, this post has been in my brain for a while, waiting post-Christmas, end-of-the-year reflection.  

Other bloggers are posting their "best of 2014".

 2014 got the best of me.

My word for the year was "less".

I envisioned clean closets, clutter-free counters, maybe even some minimalist decorating.

And there was some of that.

Like this year's Christmas, with its silver and white and green and pine.

(Having a red-free tree stressed me out for about five minutes, and then I found it soothing, somehow.)

But mostly, this year has felt like, well, less.

I can't even put a super-spiritual spin on my less-ness in 2014 

and say I learned there should be less of me, more of Him;

 truth be told, I've come face-to-face this year with just how much of me is still lurking around, 

and it's not pretty. 

With this year's tiny church plants and half-empty nest,

 its class-from-Hades and its what-was-I-thinking-return-to-college, 

it left me feeling half-empty, too.

There were  lots of good things--I counted 1000 of them!-- 

but with more stress and more questions, 

there was less blogging, less creating...

less focus, less discipline,

  less confidence, less peace, less purpose.

Just...less.

The Lord's been patient with me here, 

and He's talked to me about my dangerous propensity for nostalgia.  

He's given me a word for 2015 that amounts to a holy kick in the pants; 

I'll share it later on.

I think less was the prerequisite course.  

It's time to pack a lighter suitcase for 2015.

Following,

Ginger

So Much

When I was a little girl, the children used to sing a song that went like this:

   "We have so much, so much, so much, (hands spreading apart a little at a time; quiet voice)

 so much, so much, so much, (arms getting wider and wider; voice getting louder and louder)

so much, so much, so much, (arms spread as far as they can reach!; shouting!)

to be thankful for!"

It was quite rousing!  We liked it.  

It's an easy song to learn and a harder life to live, which is the way it goes.

This year I am counting gifts.  I think I will make it to 1000 by December 31st.  That's cool, but it only matters if my heart is trained to bless God in the process.  We can record on autopilot, I think, just as we can approach the Thanksgiving table tomorrow with hearts still cold toward Christ.  

This morning, my devotional asked for a bit of reflection, for me to take time to think on the last 10 years of my life and see God's faithfulness in it. 

Wow.

What a decade.

We moved, went from elementary schoolers to high school and college,

buried my dad, moved my mom, went through two surgeries with her in a year,

 found our ministries in the church, left our church, started a church, 

went back to teaching, left teaching, went back again.

We gained three dogs, lost one.

Gained three cats, lost two.

Crazy, but no crazier than yours, I'd warrant.

And God is faithful.

In ten years, He's done more than I could think or imagine.

He is more than I thought or imagined.

David Crowder said it best:

"At the start, He was there.

In the end, He'll be there.

After all our hands have wrought,

He repairs.

  He repairs."

This year is full of nostalgia for me, but my faithful Father is nudging me along, 

gently but with definite firmness, 

because, while gratitude looks backward and blesses, it looks forward with yeses,

with the "Amen" as benediction and the "Our Father" for the journey to come. 

He is faithful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Following,

Ginger

    

Long Time, No Blog: a Daybook

Hello.

I've missed you.

I miss writing, and I miss words, and I miss the faithful handful who respond and make me feel like I have something to say.

So today I am diving back in as though someone cares--because the someone who cares is me.

It's a Friday day-book--just because.

Listening to...the No Other Name album by Hillsong.  Does the Lord give you theme songs?  He does that to me all the time.  This album is the background music for this season.

Eating...brussel sprouts!  (Like, for the first time ever.  Brown sugar, balsamic vinegar, olive oil, roasted at 425* for about half an hour.  I'm a believer.)

Checking...things off my packed fall schedule; one class down, just three papers left in the other, and I'll be about 1/6 of the way through this Masters.

Sneezing...ah...because it's time for my annual head cold--choo. 

Missing...a regular exercise schedule, teaching women's Bible study, my college girl

Untying...the knot in my stomach over this school year.  Knowing why would not bring me peace.  Jesus brings me peace, so I'll take it.   By faith, not by sight.

Stunned by...sapphire blue skies, leaves crowning trees like rubies and citrine and topaz. 

Say hello if you will!

Following,

Ginger

The Beautiful Gate

(Two posts in a month!  We should probably celebrate.)

 One night, I manage to slip away from the papers and tests long enough to go with my husband to the track. 

Beside me, Big Red begins his intensive workout--sprints, burpees, and other mind-boggling, sweat-inducing moves.

I walk in circles. 

Big Red is training for a Spartan race.

And I thought, I am training to hold my breath.

So I pray to exhale.

Around the track, around my head, prayers loop and weave in between my parallel lives of teacher, mother, student, wife.

Lesson plans and supper plans and best-laid plans.

The next morning, I'm in Act 3, 

reading about the man at the temple who holds his cup out to Peter and John.  

He's asking for silver,

but he gets something far more precious.

He gets a chance to praise Jesus with everything--

body, soul, spirit.

It's a cool testimony, and one with lots of implications, but my eyes go to the line Luke repeats.

"...the Gate called Beautiful."

It sings like a chorus in my head all day: the gate is beautiful.

The place he sat, day after day, year after year-

 where he looks at Peter and John,

where he listens to Peter's voice,

where he anticipates just enough for today,

where he seizes Peter's right hand,

where  he gets more than he ever thought or imagined.

It was beautiful 

because it was the place where he waited with expectancy and where he accepted what was offered.

This place where I am, 

the place where I'm waiting with my cup out,

looking, listening, expecting,

that's the place Jesus calls beautiful in me.

What looks like brokenness now will look like beauty later.

I don't know what I'm anticipating, 

but I know Jesus well enough to know that it will be more than I bargained for--

and I want to seize it, accept it, 

and leap for joy.

The God of Present Tenses

Long time, no blog.

The pace of life accelerated out of control around here in July, with gardens and graduates taking the bulk of the hours.

In August, I sent my baby away to college, started my Master's degree (hello, college tuition), and landed in one of the most challenging professional situations I've ever found myself.

There has been insomnia.

There have been tears.

There has been the stupor that only comes when overwork and under-rest collide. 

Oh, and did I mention I am working a retreat team this fall as well?

As my laundry list of responsibilities grew (including laundry, which sits in untouched mounds awaiting action), my mother questioned my participation on this team.

It was tempting to free a night in the crowded calendar, but God said no, and I listened.

This past week, He did a bit more speaking.

It started in the worship, when the Comforter reached into weary places and did His thing.

Then the speaker reminded us that God's name is I AM.

Not I Was or I Will Be.

He is the God of present tenses, in my NOW, because He is unbound by time. 

In every season, He is there.

The past belongs under His blood; the future in His hands alone.

My present tense: morning mist on the pond

Truth be told, nostalgia had taken over, 

a wistfulness for the days when my girls were little, 

and I was a SAHM, 

and, as it always does when viewed backwards, 

life seemed simpler.  

In a school year when I am not at all sure I will survive until May, 

that simplicity (or, at least, those problems) taunted me.

So, in the quiet of that room, the Lord reminded me that I am in my now, 

and He is, too.

He is here, 

in a middle-aged woman attempting to return to college mode for a few semesters.

He is here, 

with a mama launching one from the nest with fear and trembling.

He is here, 

in a classroom with insurmountable issues further complicated by educational bureaucracy.

He is here. Holy, holy.

He is here. Amen.

Following,

Ginger

Linking here.

Meanwhile, back at the 'House...

Helllooo!

Anybody stopping by?

I took a blogging break.

I might still take one; I've not decided yet.

Remember when I said this was a good season?

We interrupt this blog post for a 'Where's Waldo?" moment; do you see it?  Look closely...

I didn't have time to change my camera settings--assuming I knew what they should be. 

 It is, but it's within an unreal busy season,

with a ultra-short summer on the school calendar 

(Teachers go back week after next.  Yes, I know summer just started.), 

a soon-to-be college freshman,

a house with projects.

My hands have held paintbrushes. (Interior doors; not blog-worthy, but oh! the difference!)

My head is holding dorm supply lists. (My head is not big enough to hold it.  Things ooze out of one list and ooze onto the next one when I remember.)

My heart is holding John's gospel,

 my girls' faces as they struggle with coming changes,

 my husband in his jaw-dropping garden.

All summer I have chased the days and found them fog-like.  They seem tangible but aren't; they disappear before I have time to enter into them.  

I've forgotten my camera. 

Meanwhile, zinnias bloom, 

blueberries ripen, 

peas promise to take over August.

Today, I exhale. 

Following, 

Ginger

Multitude Monday: Lists

I am a list-lover.

I'm not always good at following them, but I like them.

Organization eludes me, best intentions aside.

As our uber-busy summer flies by, I'm trying a different kind of list, a short and sweet one written daily in large letters on the chalkboard. 

Amazing the satisfaction one can derive from a chalk line drawn through a completed task!

List makers vary by style.  I manage my list with micro-tasks.  Fold one load of laundry.  Paint a door. Dust the living room.

Big Red's lists are global, sweeping vision statements to guide his long-range plan.  Clean the basement!  Landscape the yard!  Paint the whole house!

Today's gratitude list resembles Big Red's method more than mine.  They're the mammoth, underlying blessings that make the small ones possible; they dig deep roots that tether my wandering heart to my Rock. 

507.  The Lord calls me to believe Him, and He can be trusted.

508. He speaks to me, and He'll speak to me again.

509. The Old Testament undergirds the New.

510. God gives God.

511. The Word nourishes me.

512. The Word is sweet to me; I know it is feeding me even if the message is bitter.

513. Living Water leaps up in me and flows to others,

514. Jesus is beautiful to me.