Pen in Motion

At the beginning of February 2014, I made the commitment to read I Corinthians 13 every day. I wanted to improve my “love walk,” and what better way than to read the Apostle Paul’s definition of love on a daily basis. After a few days on this assignment, I began to focus mostly on reading the actual description of God’s love in verses 4 – 8. With each day, I became more adept at cruising through those verses before moving on to the rest of my daily scripture reading. “Love endures long and is patient and kind” became part of my morning mantra; I hardly realized how little I really concentrated on the powerful words in I Corinthians 13. I was almost through the month of February before something finally caught my attention long enough for me to slow down and digest what I was reading.

“Love is kind” – it hardly seems all that powerful of a statement, but there is a powerhouse of strength and authority folded into such a sweet, cotton candy-esque term. The actual Greek word is chrésteuomai and the only time it is used in the Bible is in I Corinthians 13:4. It literally means “to be kind.” It still did not seem all that impressive until I realized that chrésteuomai was/is a verb – an action word that is always in the process of “acting” when used in a sentence. Kindness is not a wimpy, cherub-loving adjective, but a brawny verb that demands doing. Love is always in the process of showing kindness, always thinking of others, and always looking to serve.

My next stop was to a dictionary (or dictionary web site, rather) to see how the modern lexicons defined “kind.” I found a decidedly wider array of words to describe “kind” than was offered by the Strong’s concordance: “of good or benevolent nature; having, showing, or proceeding from benevolence;   indulgent, considerate, or helpful; mild or gentle.” Kindness proceeds from Love – is actively coming out of Love all the time. We live in a world that is in dire need of kindness every day, people who need to experience a love that flows with helpfulness, consideration, and gentleness. To be kind is to take yourself out of the picture so that the only people you see are those around you who desperately need to be noticed by someone.

The need for kindness was further driven home for me following a discussion with a friend regarding driving etiquette (and the lack of it by other drivers). He initially refused to allow a vehicle to cut in front of him at a stop light. As a result, the vehicle was blocking one of the lanes and preventing any other cars in that particular lane from moving. I suggested that he allow the driver into his lane; when he asked why I felt she deserved the pass, I countered that it was the kind thing to do. He again asked why I thought the driver deserved this act of kindness when she had clearly disregarded other vehicles on the road by attempting to force herself into our lane. Again, I stated that it was an act of kindness. For me, the whole point of kindness is that we are receiving gentle treatment whether we deserve it or not. If goodness was only doled out to those who deserved it, then (a) the list would be remarkably short and (b) it wouldn’t really be kindness. (My friend did allow the driver to move into our traffic lane).

Being kind is not a sign of weakness, but rather an understanding that others need to be loved more than you need to remain the center of your attention. Do not take for granted the power that flows through your acts of kindness. Of all the grand and amazing things that Jesus did, he was also kind.

Several years ago I read an article on house cleaning in which the author offered a proven method to getting into the “cleaning spirit”: start with the kitchen sink. The author reasoned that the sink was ground zero for cleaning an entire house; clean the sink, then move on to counters, then the stove, then the floor, and then the rest of the house.

The article was a bit quirky and fun to read, but I did not put much thought into it until I came to the point where I could not ignore the spatters, stains, and dusty bunnies any longer. At the time, I lived in a two-story house with too many rooms to figure out where to begin. I used to begin with my bedroom, but that almost always led to me re-arranging my closet and wasting most of the day without really doing anything. So on that day, I decided to try the article’s advice.

Before I could clean the sink I had to empty the pile of dirty dishes into the dish washer. After that, I scrubbed the sink until it was shiny and clean. I was (and still am) amazed at the instant feeling of accomplishment I felt over cleaning a sink. From there I moved on to the counters and the stove top, cleaning and scrubbing every inch of surface. I wiped down the oven and the fridge, and then swept the floor.

By early evening, I had cleaned most of the house AND cleaned more thoroughly than usual. The kitchen sink was the catalyst that motivated me to be productive. My task was not overwhelming because I began with something small and simple. That initial wave of accomplishment was my motivation to keep going. To this day, I still begin cleaning with the kitchen sink.

Humans are like dirty houses – we have many rooms and levels that make up who we are. Too often, we fail when we try to clean up our houses because we seek the whole picture and get overwhelmed at trying to do everything at one time. Adopt a “kitchen sink” mentality – start with small goals and let the motivation carry you along. Instead of feeling hopeless of the 100lbs you need to lose, set a goal to shed 5 lbs instead. Then set a new goal, and keep going until you get to your ideal weight.

Staring at two + more years of college was disheartening, but now I just focus on one semester at a time. Eventually I will get there. My mother often reminds me the correlation between overcoming a mountainous task and eating an elephant – one bite at a time. So grab a sponge or a spoon an get to it. Eventually you will get there.

“Being raised with manners” is a statement that applies to the majority of people in America. We learned during childhood how to say “please” and “thank you,” and “yes/no ma’am/sir.” We learned that it is rude to belch in front of people, and even more horrifying to pass gas around anyone except our immediate family. Any topic that has anything to do with negative bodily functions is still fairly taboo in decent conversation (especially at the dinner table). So what does something as gross and terrible as throwing up have to do with faith? A lot more than you may realize.

I hate throwing up. I doubt there is anyone alive who particularly enjoys it, but I really don’t like it. I can count on one hand the number of times that I have tossed my cookies. I have managed to maintain this (mostly sadly) impressive record because I will do almost anything to avoid having to puke. I will chug a gallon of Pepto if I think it will help in any way.

I don’t remember what led to me feeling ill on that particular night, but my upset stomach quickly escalated to an awful upset of my record. I asked my husband to bring me a large bowl (he gave me a small waste basket) because I didn’t want to move and cause a sickly chain reaction. I immediately began quoting healing scriptures and praying for healing. I demanded my body be healed because I refused to accept the alternative. I was absolutely unwilling to throw up, and so my mind was solely focused on the manifestation of my healing.

I know what you might be thinking—if my stomach was upset because of something bad, then vomiting would lead to feeling better. And you might be correct, but I refused to consider anything related to up-chucking. I sat in my chair and concentrated on the Word. I spoke peace to my body and just repeated different healing scriptures over and over.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually I felt the muscles in my mouth relax. The tension in my body left and I could feel my stomach calm down. I continued speaking the Word over my body for a little longer until I knew it was okay to stand up. I went to bed shortly after and slept through the night without any other problems. I praised God for my healing, grateful that I did not have to endure all of the terrible-ness of throwing up.

The next day, the Holy Spirit came to me and asked me why I received such quick healing the previous night. I was so determined not to accept the situation presented to me that I consider only one option – divine healing through Jesus. “So why,” He asked, “don’t you act the way with anything else?” Vomiting I would not accept, but what about all the other attacks from the devil? He asked why I did not focus my faith with the other prayers and petitions in the same manner.

Romans 4:20 says that Abraham didn’t waver in his faith because he was fully convinced that God would do what He had promised. Fully convinced—seeing no other outcome but the one that God promised him. That is the kind of faith that God wants us to operate in every day. He wants us to focus solely on His promises, so much that we will only accept His truth over whatever trial or tribulation the devil may try to bring against us. If we do this, we will have victory every time.

I was not always the brilliant chef that I am today…there was definitely a time when Wolfgang Puck would have banished me from ever picking up a spatula again. A specific example of my culinary faux pas comes to mind – the first time I tried to make mashed potatoes. As embarrassing as this is to relate, I can still clearly recall the first time I attempted to make mashed potatoes. I was 17 years old; my high school life was a very busy one, so traditional “Marie Calendar” type meals were reserved mostly for holidays and very special gatherings. In short, mashed potatoes were not often on the menu at home, and I had not yet discovered the wonderful little packages of potato flakes at the grocery store.

So I decide one day to make my mother a nice meal, including mashed potatoes. I did not bother to consult a cookbook, or a cook for that matter on the proper steps to creamy potato delight. I skinned the tatoes and cut them into pieces. So far, so good…right? That is where the plan turned south. I did not know that I needed to boil the potatoes to make them soft for mashing…I just went at it like a banshee. Did I get anywhere? Ha-ha…after 10 minutes and getting myself completely frustrated, I found myself a new tool: the meat tenderizer. Yessiree, I pounded the P out of those tatoes! I remember my mother arriving home in the midst of my senseless bludgeoning and laughingly demanding what I thought I was doing. That was 15 years ago, and she still chuckles when reference is made to my foray into country cooking.

Many times we are so eager to jump out into what God has called us to do that we forget there are steps to take. Check out any great man of faith in the Bible and you will see God’s pattern – you have to begin with the small steps before you move on to the bigger ones. David is considered one of Israel’s greatest kings, and called a man after God’s own heart. But he did not begin in the palace – far from it. He started out as a shepherd, tending his father’s sheep. In fact, on the day that the prophet Samuel anointed him as king, David was busy looking after the sheep. And what happened after Samuel anointed him? He went right back to doing his job.

The same goes for Abraham – he began by obeying when God told him to go. He did not know where he was going, but he knew which direction to start. Psalms 37:23 says that God orders the steps of the righteous. And John 10:27 says that, as God’s sheep, we know the voice of our Shepherd. The Word of God is your guide through life – your source for all of your steps. And your counsel. Clearly, I should have sought advice before I dove head-first into the kitchen to make like Paula Deane. But I thought I knew what I was doing, so I ignored the cookbooks. Do not ever think that you know enough to ignore the Word. And if you try to skip steps or take short cuts, you may end up with a bowl full of potato carnage

I am reminded of a story that my cousin Lora Beth told me when she and her (now ex-) husband Eric played midwife to our grandfather’s very pregnant hunting dog. My grandparents were out of town for several weeks and Bess (as we call her) was charged with taking care of the mamma-to-be if she delivered while my grandfather was away.

Now Paw-Paw (as we call him) has a very different view of dogs than most people. His dogs are not so much pets as they serve a specific purpose for him. But as any hunter knows, there was also a bond between Paw-Paw and his hunting dogs. But still, they were not pets and he did not treat them as such. They were well-cared for, but not pampered as most people (including myself) tend to do with their animals.

So as the birthing hour drew near, both Bess and Eric were getting excited about the new puppies until Paw-Paw called for an update. He informed Eric that any runts that were born would be put down. Yes, I know that sounds cruel. I was a little shocked myself when I heard that – I couldn’t imagine my grandfather doing anything like that. But my cousin Bess explained that many times the runt puppies in the litter ended up not surviving anyway. And our grandfather was also raised at a different time when the kindest thing you can do for a sick animal is to put it out of its misery. But still, my eyes watered a little thinking of those poor, defenseless puppies.

Apparently Eric felt the same way, and was determined that no pups were dying on his watch. The time came for the mamma dog to give birth – ten puppies in all, including a few runty ones. Our grandparents were not due home for a few more weeks, so Eric devised a plan to save the whole litter. He and Bess took turns bottle-feeding the underweight pups every few hours. I think they actually gave all the puppies extra feedings with the bottle.

By the time our grandparents returned, there were ten roly-poly pups waiting, all bordering on obese. Paw-Paw usually only kept one pup and the rest were sold once they had been weaned from their mom. Our whole family had a good laugh at those fat little puppies, and at Eric’s determination to save them all from untimely demise.

That story got me thinking about man, and God, and how much more compassion He had on us than Eric had on those puppies. And just like Eric came up with a plan to make sure that every single puppy was safe, God had a plan in place for us – before a single particle of the universe was called into existence, Jesus had already agreed to fix it if we messed up. II Peter says that God does not want anyone to perish, but for all to come to repentance.

Jesus died so that no one would have to endure life as a runt: underfed, malnourished, puny, and weak. That is what a life of sin will make you – a runt. Romans 3:23 says that we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Every single one of us came into this world as a runt, but Jesus came to give us life and life more abundantly.

In Christ, we can be whole and new. We can be roly-poly puppies who are filled with the spirit of God, and are strong and mighty. We do not have to live our lives as runts. We are the pick of the litter – sons and daughters of the Most High God. We are kings and priests, and joint-heirs with Jesus. Maybe it is time to put aside the puny self-image and remember who you really are.

I recently came across a post in regard to having expectations of other people. The author was feeling very down-trodden over the hurt of having said expectations thrown back in his face. He mused whether it was better to just have none at all… perhaps that would prevent him from being hurt and disappointed.

Just about every person in the world has at least one person that they have hoisted up onto a pedestal, be it conscious or not. Is it scarier to be the person with all the expectations, or to be the sap sitting way up yonder? (wow whoever thought I would use that word?) It is painful when the person you thought was tip-top suddenly topples over, and equally painful for the person who toppled. Is it really better to abandon all expectations, pedestals, and the like? (oh geez, if I type that e-word one more time…)

First of all, why do we have expectations (oh there it is) at all for other people? What purpose do they serve? To quote Gandalf from LOTR…”it is in man that we must place our hope.” Somehow putting faith in other people is one thing in life that gives us hope. I think we are all even a little bit optimistic, deep down. Why else would someone who has been hurt and betrayed seek out new relationships? They need to hope that not everyone in the world is a villain.

My very wise and wonderful friend Bina used to tell me that I couldn’t not trust anyone forever. At some point, I needed to believe someone…so why not just trust? Not every man is a dog looking for his next roll in the hay (mixing metaphors there), not every woman is a gold-digging tramp, and not every possible friend I meet who reminds me of Martha is going to be the same…we’ll call her “un-friend” to me as she was.

This is not at all to say that we should not have heroes and role models…we just need to remember that they are human, just like us, and prone to make mistakes. If and when they do mess up, we might want to pause a few minutes before shucking our expectations and booting them from their nose-bleed perch. And we should never stop hoping and expecting humanity to be better than it is right now. Keep the hope alive.

I am not much for playing video games – my favorite gaming system is still the Nintendo NES. The types of games I prefer to play are board games (yay Scrabble) and card games. I used to be a die-hard Spades addict, but I have since been reformed. I also played a lot of Solitaire. My current favorite “games” are crosswords. I am a big word nerd, so I enjoy just about anything that has to do with words.

A few months ago, I purchased a couple of cheap crossword books from a dollar store. Since I go through crossword books pretty quickly, the cheaper the better. Or so I thought. My first inkling that these crosswords were not the best quality came while working through the second puzzle. My clue was “Japanese dress”, but the answer was only four spaces. After filling in other answers around this one, I was finally shown the answer = sari.

Since then, I have run across many other questionable answers:
Basketball player Abdul Jabaar = Akeem
Wisdom = Wiseness (the actual answer)
On Top = Atop
Asian Nation = Israel (I kid you not)

Sometimes words are misspelled in the puzzle, and sometimes the same clues are used for different answers. For instance, the abbreviation for “association” is ASSN in one puzzle and ASSC on another page. Crown, tiara, and diadem all take turns answering for “jeweled headdress.”

At first, I was a little offended by this obviously shoddy crossword book. But once my righteous ire died down, I saw the humor in it and had a good laugh. All of the errors in these crosswords seem to be from someone(s) who failed to properly edit the puzzle, and/or just did not care. It is a cheap crossword book that probably cost the publisher only a few cents to make, and was not worth the effort to proofread. Those responsible for putting the puzzles together misspelled words, twisted meanings, and outright lied to make everything fit. And sure, all the answers “fit”, but was the book correct? Should a job be considered “done” if the result is full of errors and shoddy workmanship?

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. (Colossians 3:17)

As Christians, everything we do should be done with a spirit of excellence. It will not always be easy, nor will it always be fast. How we do our job is a reflection of who we are. My grandfather always taught me that the only thing I would always have with me was my name and my reputation – the two are synonymous, and not exclusive of one another. In whatever you do, be the person who cares that the job/project/etc. is good and reflects the best of your ability. Do not be the shoddy crossword that calls a sari a Japanese dress and thinks Israel is in Asia. Be better than a cheap knock-off.

Written for  my sister. Happy birthday 🙂

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A few years ago, I suddenly began receiving jokes from my sister Jennifer via text message. They weren’t just any jokes – no, these were elephant jokes. Every day for a little over a week, I was gifted with a few short messages that had me waiting for the inevitable “knock, knock” openers.

I don’t know why she suddenly decided to bless me with jokes like “What do you find between an elephant’s toes,” but I found myself laughing at these silly and achingly simplistic gags. And the answer to that first gem is apparently slow pygmies, which is better than my answer — mud and poop.

More jokes followed the tragedy of the pygmies. Day Two went something like this:

Jen: How do you know an elephant has been in your fridge?

Me: Trunk nose smudges everywhere?

Jen: Footprints in the butter

Jen: How do you know there have been two elephants in your fridge?

Me: The butter is smashed into bits?

Jen: Two sets of tracks in the butter

Jen: How do you know there have been three elephants in your fridge?

Me: My butter is missing?

Jen: The door won’t close.

My imagination also decided to join in the fun and visions of elephants trampling the contents of my refrigerator played through my mind as I read Jennifer’s texts. These elephants, however, were not the gargantuan, thick-skinned dusty beasts from the Discovery Channel or the local zoo. No, my elephants were much smaller — think Barbie’s dream horse size — and somewhat daintier (as dainty as an elephant can be, regardless of size). They were more like Care Bear cousins than mighty giants of the African plains.

I saw them, small and pretty, going after my butter like a pig to mud and I almost expected to find tiny tracks in my container of Country Crock the next morning. I also imagined the set of petite wooden elephants on my bookshelf, which were a gift to my husband and actually from Africa, taking a midnight excursion to my fridge. Like a family trip to the swimming pool, the two bigger elephants watched as the smaller “babies” flounced and pranced about in my buttery spread without a care in the world.

The three elephants in the last joke are obviously bigger, as they were impeding the door from closing. But they were still cute, all wrestling for the best seat nearest the grape jelly. Or perhaps they were afraid of the dark and propped the door open to keep the light on. Either way, my milk is going to sour if they don’t leave. But truthfully, I did not mind the pachyderm invasion one bit, even with my stomped butter and carton of bad milk. In fact, I looked forward to the digitized wind chime that announced the arrival of a new message.

These jokes (and there are many more) are certainly not the funniest gag material I have ever heard, so why are they so endearing to me? The answer is simple enough — because they are from my sister. Communication from Jennifer is not rare, but certainly infrequent. She is, in my opinion, the epitome of busy. She is a full-time teacher, drama director, school sports coach (just pick a sport), school activities coordinator, church drama coordinator, sound booth director, and also works part-time at Banana Republic. Jennifer is a walking metaphor of three elephants in a fridge — far too much crammed into one life.

We rarely talk on the phone because of her schedule, so our most common avenue of communication is text message. I can always tell when my sister has some downtime – my phone flutters to life, jangling like the Wall Street trading floor on an up day. I try to squeeze in as much conversation as possible because I know this window of opportunity could vanish as quickly as it appeared. The beginning of the elephant joke run also marked the beginning of a several day succession of messages from my sister, an event both unique and delightful.

If I were to have a hero, it would be Jennifer (although clearly not for her choice in jokes). She inspired me to follow my passion when, over a decade before I would return to college, she chose to major in Theater Arts at Baylor University. Many a well-intended person suggested she switch to something more practical and useful. “What can you do with a Theater Arts degree?” they would ask. Jennifer simply smiled and shrugged off the criticism and continued on with her dream.

When I decided to be a Writing major, I thought of Jennifer and how she pursued her gift in spite of what other people thought. I thought of her when well-intended people suggested I be an English major instead, and asked the same question that my sister faced. What can I do with a Writing degree? The same thing I can do with a Theater Arts degree — live my dream, and tell a few elephant jokes along the way.

As a special “thank you” to the ladies in the leasing office at my apartment complex, I decided to bake muffins: blueberry, chocolate chip, banana nut, strawberry, ect. Being the master baker that I am, I went for the mixes that required the least amount of added ingredients and roughly the same baking temperatures. (Somewhere anyone who has baked a cake from scratch is groaning)

I am whisking and baking my little heart out…everything is going smooth as silk. And then it happened…I must have blanked out when setting the oven temperature for the lemon poppy muffins. That is the only way to explain how I could have selected a lower setting than what I needed. I pulled the tray out of the oven and everything looked fine….that is until I poked one of the lovely puffed muffins with a fork and watched it deflate like a sad little balloon. I think I even heard air hissing.

Just picture this for a moment: puffy muffin to flat muffin. Now picture SIX muffins like that. This goes right up there with my mashed potato fiasco. I was frustrated to no end, and yet still found myself doubled over laughing…a day to cherish for sure.

Do not even ask yourself if there is a point here, aside from self humiliation. I always have a point…eventually. Everyone one of us has been created and designed and commissioned for something greater than we can comprehend. We all have dreams and goals…we all aspire to be more. But there is a process in which to get from start to finish. Our walk of faith has steps, and these steps are ordered and prepared. Your path is laid out, but you still have to walk it out. Try and skip around it, and you will end up with a deflated muffin. At first glance, they looked just like the others…not too brown and mushroom fluffy. In fact they looked better- until you stick a fork in the side and let the air out.

Why didn’t my lemon poppy stand the pronged test? There was not anything inside to hold up…no foundation, no filling (2 Tim 3:5). Whether you are a Christian or not, every good thing (job promotion, college, sports, ect) has a path…do not get so impatient with the timetable that you try to play leap frog; you might just end up at the edge of a river with a scorpion asking for a lift…

I recently saw a comedy entitled “You Again,” and starring an impressive cast of female actresses – Jamie Lee Curtis, Sigourney Weaver, Kristen Bell, & Betty White. The movie is about a beautiful, successful young woman (Bell) having to confront her miserable high school memories when the girl who tormented her is set to marry her older brother.

Most of the antics in the movie were funny, but also painful to watch. I kept thinking about my own teenage experiences and the pain that haunted me for years after. I had to wonder, during the movie, what it would be like to finally confront the person who hurt me so badly back then and tell her just how I really feel. Would I feel vindicated somehow? Would a face-to-face really change anything?

The problem that Bell’s character has – the root problem- is that she still sees herself in the same malnourished light as she did in high school. Regardless of the beautiful person she had become, she refused to let go of the past. This is the same reason why I (and I suspect many others) can also relate to that character – we have bound ourselves to our past, and refuse to move beyond whatever painful period we are clinging to.

For Bell, those years in high school were what actually defined her, and not anything she had accomplished beyond that point. And when she finally exacted her revenge, the aftertaste was not as sweet as she thought it would be. Vengeance in the hands of humans never plays out the way we want it to because it is in the wrong hands to begin with.

Long after the credits finished rolling and I turned off my TV, the movie stayed with me. I rooted for the nemesis to get her comeuppance, as though I was also getting something out of it.  I realized that I was still seeking my own vengeance for the past, still bound to something that happened to me so many years ago. But God is not going to avenge the past for me, and anything I do will only end up causing more pain.

Unlike the characters in the movie, Christians know that the way to move past the hurt is to love. I Corinthians 13 is well-known as the “love chapter,” and is really one of the most powerful sections of the Bible. To walk in God’s love is to be free of all hurts and wrongs, to look at any person and see the best, and to be the light in the world that repels the darkness. Love is seeing the world and oneself from God’s perspective.

So I love the girl who ruined my teenage life… I forgive her, and I hope that she has a good life. I can only go so far into the future with the past bound to my life, so I have to choose one or the other. Letting go of the past may not be easy, but I can do it because I have love and love never fails. It is not a petty sentiment on a greeting card, but a battle cry to the foe that is my past – LOVE NEVER FAILS.