I Want You

I am thinking about the priceless moment I shared with my oldest grandson when he spent the night with me recently.  As he usually does, he had beckoned me to a closet in my spare bedroom where I store several grandchildren toys—some of which they are aware, and others that are new surprises.  As I always do, I slid open the closet door to let him look around.  He stood expectantly, waiting for me to ask the question:  “What do you want?”  After he told me the things he wanted, I said, “Okay, let’s get it!”  He grabbed the bags of blocks from the floor.  I got the Play Dough and crayons from a shelf that was just above his reach.  I spread out a large sheet to cover the floor, and we plopped down to play.  While he was engrossed in a building project, I decided to go get a load of laundry started.  Just as I closed the lid to the washer, I turned to see my grandson standing in the doorway to the laundry room.  He had an unmistakable something-has-me-upset-and-I’m-about-to-cry look on his face.  I asked, “What’s the matter, honey?  What do you want?”  I figured there was something else in the toy closet he couldn’t reach.  With tears welling up in his eyes, he reached out his little arms and said, “I want you.”  Before I knew it, I was on my knees and holding him tightly in my arms.  My eyes were brimming with tears, too, as I said, “I’m here, sweetheart.  I’m right here.”  This reminds me of how it is sometimes in my relationship with God.  A lot like my grandson with his toys, I can easily become preoccupied with the countless blessings that surround me.  I am sincerely grateful for these manifold gifts!  Yet, sometimes, when I look up and look around, I perceive that something is missing.  I become keenly aware that I have lost that closeness, that connection with God that gives a profound depth of purpose and joy to everything else.  And just as my precious grandson came looking for me, my spirit compels me to earnestly seek Him until the intimacy of our fellowship is renewed.  Sometimes I don’t come into His presence with a list of petitions or wishes.  Instead, I just want to let Him know that I adore and appreciate Him so much.  Sometimes I simply want to say, “I want You.”  And as He encompasses me in an embrace of love and peace, He lets me know, “I Am here.  I Am right here.”     

Overtaken

This morning I am thinking about the words spoken to me while I was taking a walk the other day.  There is a part of my walking trail (which I call the Boardwalk) where it is not uncommon for people to utter brief greetings to one another.  As a matter of courtesy, many of us will say something like, “I’m right behind you” or “coming up on your left,” as an alert when we’re about to pass someone.  So, I wasn’t surprised by the greeting itself.  Nor was I surprised when I turned to see the bright, familiar smile of one of the jogging regulars.  What did surprise me was what she told me.  She said, “You’ve really got the pace going today!  I’ve been trying to catch up to you since back there.”  She pointed all the way across the lake to the place where I had entered the Boardwalk.  I didn’t have a chance to respond before she said, “Keep it up!” and darted ahead of me.  I broke out in a big grin, bolstered by her encouragement.  I glanced once again across the lake and marveled at her words, “I’ve been trying to catch up to you.” It struck me that I had not seen, heard, or otherwise noticed her until I was caught.  I had been focused on my pacing and lost in my thoughts. 

      

Reflecting on this, I was reminded of a scripture that speaks about how blessings will overtake me when I make a deliberate, committed choice to live…to walk…in a way that honors God.  Being overtaken implies I am moving in a particular direction, not just sitting or standing still.  More precisely, I believe it means I am moving, purposefully, in the direction of the prayers and goals He has set in my heart.  I like to imagine the blessings that are dispatched to track me down from the moment I begin taking steps of faith, every time.  I may not immediately see, hear, or otherwise perceive these blessings.  But inevitably, often unexpectedly, when I am focused on His promises and lost in His favor, I can feel them breathing down my neck.  I can hear them saying, “I’m coming up right behind you.”  I have sensed this lately, and my heart is greatly encouraged.  Today I say to those blessings, “Bring it on!  Overtake me.”

My Significant Other

This morning I am thinking about the woman I was in my past and the woman I am today.  Sometimes it feels like the two are engaged in an epic game of Whack-a-Mole.  Semblances of my past will rear their ugly heads, often popping up unexpectedly.  It goes something like this:

 

“Peek-a-boo! Remember how you’d party all night on Saturday and direct the children’s choir at church on Sunday?  Peek-a-boo!   What a hypocrite.  Peek-a-boo!  Remember how you trusted people with your heart, only to have it broken?  Peek-a-boo!  You have every right to be cynical.  Peek-a-boo!  Remember all those nights you spent at home alone while everyone else was out on a date?  Peek-a-boo!  Some things never change, huh? Remember the guilt?  Remember the pain?  Remember the sense of hopelessness?”

 

All the while I’ll be swinging and swatting with my very best retorts:  “I’ve stopped pretending now.  I’ve come to terms with what happened now.  I understand everything happens for a reason now.  I’m happier now.  I’ve stopped leaning to my own understanding, and I’m trusting God now.”  I must say, the woman I am today is winning most of these rounds lately.  Still, the back and forth can be exhausting. 

I have discovered that something truly delightful happens whenever my significant other enters the picture.  That is, the woman I aspire to become.  She sees and points out the beauty and purpose in people and circumstances all around me.  She inspires me to imagine, to dream, to laugh and to believe.  She celebrates my strength, resilience, and faith.  She honors my heart’s desire to love and be loved.  She speaks to me in a joyful tone, calling me to look forward.  On the best of days and the worst of days, my significant other reminds me of wonderful, amazing things that are yet to be for me.  I need to listen to her more often.                 

Life After Shrimp

This morning I am thinking about my discovery that I have a pretty severe shellfish allergy.  The effect of ingesting shellfish started out as relatively mild.  It was just a slightly annoying itch.  Barely noticeable.  Over time, however, the reaction became more dramatic.  Specifically, it made my whole mouth tingle, followed by swelling of my tongue and tightening of my throat.  Totally noticeable.   Still, I tried to deny it.  That is, up until the night I found myself alone, having eaten only about two bites of shrimp-fried rice, unable to swallow, my heart racing.  It was only then that I confronted myself with the sobering truth.  I asked, “Seriously, is it worth your life?”

Upon learning of my shrimp allergy, one friend tried to offer some hope.  She said there might a way to gradually reintroduce shrimp back into my diet by ingesting very small amounts at a time and increasing the amount gradually.  It sounded tempting, but I declined.  I know myself better than that.  I acknowledge that I am a shrimp-a-holic, so I just have to go cold turkey.  As much as I may still want to partake of a delicious shrimp dinner every now and then, exercising wisdom and self-discipline is now a matter of life or death. 

Interestingly, I feel like an allergy of sorts has also started to affect me mentally and emotionally.  For years, I was prone to devouring doubt, anxiety, and fear whenever and wherever they were served.  But, more and more lately, I find that these things irritate me.  They swell my tongue with words that are contrary to love and truth.  They choke the joy and peace right out of me.  I have to be honest with myself when tempted with the notion that I might somehow be able to indulge in harmful, unproductive thoughts and behaviors in small, manageable doses.  The truth is, every little bit hurts.

There are three important lessons I’ve gleaned over the past two shrimp-less years.  First, not everything that’s good to me is good for me.  Secondly, there are some things I just have to let go, no matter how “tasty” they may be.  And finally, rather than fixating on what I can’t have, I can re-train my appetite to delight in the countless other things I can have.  Does it require sacrifice?  Indeed it does.  Does it mean I sometimes have to sit by and watch others indulge in things I cannot even touch?  Absolutely.  But my prayer is to be an encouragement to others who find themselves at a crossroads, needing to make tough changes but not quite believing it’s possible.  I want to tell the story—not just with my lips but by example—that there is wholeness and healing beyond the things that have proven only to kill, steal, and destroy.  I want to be living proof that there is life after shrimp.            

    

My Hilarious Humiliation

This morning I am thinking about a funny thing that happened to me at the airport a few months ago.  It’s funny in retrospect, at least.  I was in line, waiting to pass through security as I had done countless times before.  I observed a few random travelers being stopped after passing through the body scanner.  Some were asked to empty pockets.  Others had their back, sides, or legs patted down.  All were quickly cleared and allowed to continue on their way.  I had always been able to breeze right through the body scanner, and I was expecting nothing different this time.  Well, I was in for quite a surprise.  When I exited the scanner, two uniformed officials asked me to wait just a moment.  I noticed that they were both looking and pointing at something behind me, so I turned to see what it was.  It was a monitor.  On the monitor was a two-dimensional figure of me.  The “me” on the monitor mimicked the pose I had taken inside the body scanner—legs apart, arms up over my head as if I were doing jumping jacks.  Then I saw it…the thing that had captured the security officials’ attention.  It was a yellow, rectangular shape.  And the shape was positioned squarely over my crotch!  I thought to myself, “Surely they don’t think I’m packing heat in my pants.”  At first I joked within myself, thinking, “Well, I guess it has been a really long time since…”

I was no longer amused when the female official said, “Okay, I’m going to have to check you.”  I can only imagine the look on my face, but whatever it was it seemed to give her pause.  She was suddenly more tentative, trying to reassure me with, “I’m going to use the back of my hand.”  I stood there, utterly embarrassed, as the back of her hand briskly bumped against places that just shouldn’t be touched by another without my willful invitation.  The pat down took less than three seconds; then she told me I was cleared to go.  But, before I could even take a step, two more female officials approached me.  One of them announced (a little too eagerly, I thought), “We are going to have to pat you down.”  I said, “No, they just did!”  The first two officials nodded in confirmation, and I quickly walked away.  All the way to the gate to catch my flight, I thought about what had just happened.  And the more I thought about it, the more I became angry.  I couldn’t wait for my two travel companions to arrive so I could tell them about the harrowing experience.   As I recounted the sequence of events, both of their faces lit up with amusement.  By the time I finished the story, the three of us were laughing hysterically.  In just a few moments, they helped me realize that the source of my anger was my own vanity.  It had always been perfectly okay with me if other travelers got stopped and patted down.  After all, it was for a greater good.  Yet, truthfully, I had fancied myself to be above such a thing.  For me, the experience was so much more than a security check.  It was an ego check.

Today, as I prepare my heart and mind for the start of a new work week, I give thanks for life’s ego check points that have taught me humility when I didn’t think I needed such lessons.  I am truly grateful for the disappointments, the trials, the tests, and the moments of humiliation that I didn’t think I deserved.  I find that I can now relate more deeply and more genuinely to fellow travelers on this journey of life, because I have been “touched” by the same hands of experience.  I am learning to be less critical and judgmental, but more sympathetic and compassionate.  Moreover, I am learning how to laugh at myself…to lighten up…because there really is a greater good.  Ultimately, it is my joy and freedom and peace.

Re-establishing Lost Connections

This morning I am thinking about an error message that flashed on the screen of my phone yesterday when I was attempting to check emails.  The words said, “Re-establishing lost connection.”  It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that message.  I knew it meant I had been in a dead zone, where my phone could not access a wireless network.  I have come to recognize two tell-tale signs that I am probably standing in a dead zone.  The first sign is that a long period of time will pass without me hearing a ring, chime, or buzz alerting me that I’ve received a message.  The second sign is that, when I attempt to send a message, it won’t go through.  When this happens, I know that if I want to send or receive messages, I will have to move from wherever I am to someplace else.   An interesting thing I’ve observed is, once I leave a dead zone, numerous email and text messages that had been previously sent—but not yet received by me—will suddenly begin to appear.  This was my big “aha” as I sat meditating during my quiet time.  Lately, I have found myself in some spiritual and emotional dead zones; sporadically separated by time, distance, and busy-ness from the genuine life-giving, loving relationships for which I often pray.   Well, today, a question rose up in my spirit, so sweet and so clear:  “Where are you standing?”  I literally got up and danced around, before being overcome with laughter at the curious gaze of my Chihuahua.  The message that came through for me was this:  I have the power and choice to reposition myself.  When I discern that I am in a dead zone, I am free to move to places where true kinships and friendships are established, re-established, and perfected…to places where connections are pure and strong.  I will know where I’m standing when evidence of answers to this prayer—previously sent, but not yet received by me—suddenly begin to manifest.  I can hardly wait.  

Little Thorny Things

This morning I am thinking about the little thorny thing I plucked from my shoe before taking a walk one day.  I started out as usual, but after only a few steps I felt a slight stabbing pain in my big toe.  The first time I stopped, I removed my shoe and shook it a bit, convinced that a piece of rock had gotten inside.  When I didn’t see anything fall out, I guessed it must have been something very small.  I put my shoe back on and resumed my walk.  After taking a few more steps, I felt the stabbing pain again.  I stopped a second time, removed my shoe, and looked inside.  I saw something sticking up, about one-eighth of an inch, through the insole.  I slid my hand inside the shoe and tried to grab whatever-it-was by the tip, but I couldn’t get a good grip.  Since that didn’t work, I decided to take my house key and push it down.  After pressing on it a bit, I was pleased to see it disappear beneath the protective cushion.  I slid my foot back into the shoe and started out once more.  I was feeling quite triumphant until the pain in my big toe returned, more intense than before.  Stopping for the third time, I yanked the shoe off in frustration.  When I peered inside my shoe, it seemed as if the little thorny thing was peering back at me.  I knew exactly what I needed to do, but I really didn’t feel like doing it.  I considered just going for it…just finishing my walk, with the thing still in my shoe.  I figured I could deal with it later, after my walk.  However, when I noticed the puncture marks on my big toe, I knew it would be foolish to continue.  So, I sat down on a nearby stoop.  I took my time, unlaced my shoe, and opened it up wide.  In no time, I was able to grab the little thorny thing by the tip and pluck it out.  As I examined it, I wondered what kind of plant it had come from.  I wondered how in the world it had gotten inside my sole.  I wondered how it had positioned itself in such a way as to cause so much pain.  After these brief musings, I simply flicked the little thorny thing away.  I wanted to take a walk, and that’s what I did.

What excites me today is that, lately, I have been sensing it is time for me to walk into a new season of learning, living, and loving.  I am indescribably eager and excited to get started!  However, I realize I will first have to deal with some little thorny things.  These are not the kind that could get embedded in my s-o-l-e, but the kind that are embedded in my s-o-u-l.  I realize I must first deal with little thorny things like nagging insecurities, unrelenting regrets, and lingering hurts.  As I begin to take steps forward, I feel these things stabbing and pricking, causing pain that cannot be ignored.  I could try “shaking it off” or suppressing these things beneath the protective cushion of my well honed defense mechanisms.  I could also attempt to just carry on as usual, with these things still lodged in my soul, hurting myself and likely hurting others.  I know avoidance and denial will ultimately prove futile and foolish.  So instead, I have made the choice to just stop for a while…to sit, still...to open myself up wide to the hand of Grace that will deliver, heal, and make me whole and free.  I want to walk confident and unhindered toward the blessings that are destined for me.  And that’s what I am going to do.