O is for Ordinary

1984 ~ I am a starving actress (well, at least until I get home to my Parent's kitchen, where I will make a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese). I am attending the prestigious American Academy of Dramatic Arts. My highlight of the year comes when I have a semi-private acting session/lesson with William Devane to prepare for a role that I will play opposite his son. Later when he meets my Mother at the stage production, he tells her, "She's got what it takes. Some people don't, but she does."

I am not ordinary. I am special, unique.

1994 ~ I have just given birth to my 4th child and my eldest has yet to start Kindergarten. He is 10 months younger than his sibling before him. People bring flowers and meals, and make quite a fuss about us having four children. A mother of 3 asks me kindly, "Did you always want a large family?" I am a little surprised, though she means me no harm. And I think to myself--'That's only one more than what you have'. Then she tells me that I am brave, that she could never have had so many young children.

I am not ordinary. I am special, unique.

2004 ~ My children are in school all day. I drive a minivan and pick them up after school each day. I sit with them to do math homework, which is getting too hard for me. We attend church on Sundays. We watch American Idol. I begin to believe that this is the sum of my life. I will never win an Academy Award. The boy that I dated while attending the American Academy is now famous. Since living through the death of my daughter, I have just the three children to raise. The empty space looms large. 

I am ordinary. I am not special, I am common.

Sadly, I listen to these lies, and many others just like them, for too long. I believe that my life is colorless and bland. Depression, which has been a battle for years, begins to call out to me--this damn plague knows my name all too well. The screech is unbearable.

Then, miraculously, the Spirit whispers. And the whisper is clear, so I welcome its pitch. I am not common at all. There is an adventure in this ordinary life that I lead. Every life is full of adventures, I've just been asleep. The extraordinary life is not lived by only the exceptional.   

Very few people will live the extraordinary life, but God calls every person to live their ordinary life~extraordinarily.  

So, I wonder, how do I find it. Where is the amazing life that I'm living?  Where did I leave it?

Then one morning, while reading my Bible, the amazing adventure appears. The adventure shows up when I remember a little butterfly. Soon after that, I see a spider in my bathroom. It begins to make sense, I found the adventure. It was here all along, just clouded by distraction. 

2011 ~ I am not ordinary. I am special, unique. And, in spite of what you might think, you are too.

My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king;
my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer. 

You are the most excellent of men and your lips have been anointed with grace,
since God has blessed you forever. 

Gird your sword on your side, you mighty one;
clothe yourself with splendor and majesty. 

In your majesty ride forth victoriously in the cause of truth, humility and justice;
let your right hand achieve awesome deeds.

Psalm 45:1-4 

Random Fact: During the summer of 1977, I saw William Devane in The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training 9 times {IN THEATERS}. The only movies I have seen more {IN THEATERS}  were 11 times for Warren Beatty's 1978 classic Heaven Can Wait and 13 times for Dustin Hoffman's 1979 heart breaker Kramer vs. Kramer.

Also this:

Have an Ordinary Adventure today!

Friends...They're the Cheesiest.

There are some things that you can do alone and there are some things that are just more fulfilling to do with another person.

Preparing Kraft Macaroni & Cheese is  better when you do it alone. When no one else is around, you can tear open the little silver bag the cheese comes in, dip your finger in and have a quick taste of sheer blissful cheesiness while the noodles take the ridiculously long 5 minutes to cook.

Hiking up an 80 degree incline is much better when done with another person. Recently, I went on a hike with my husband and about 1 mile into the 5 mile hike, I huffed and puffed out the declaration that I would never make it through this hike alone. Because, even though hiking up this trail is one of my favorite things to do, quite honestly, if I were doing it alone--I would turn around when it got too painful. Something about having someone else with me when I am barely able to take another step, spurs me on to take that next step. And the next.

I don't think that this is news to most people, that is why we see so many support groups--in so many different areas of interest. Type in "support groups" into google.com and in 0.11 seconds you will get 289,000,000 results. We know we need each other to face mental health challenges, overcome alcohol addiction, facing pulmonary disease, or living with epilepsy. We can find support groups for Parents with children who have cancer, widows of servicemen, survivors of rape and many other tragedies.

For most people, when we find ourselves in a crisis, it is then that we are ready to ask for help, maybe we feel that we finally have a reason to "talk" about our feelings and frustrations. Maybe we believe we have something "big" in our life and now we can admit our need for other people.

This week, I went to a Ladies Brunch where the entire focus was to connect. That's all. Just connect and make a new friend. Recognize our need to attach to others and help others who are struggling with making that attachment. 

The thing is, why do I wait until a planned event to see people. How did this happen? When did I change from the teenager who would invite my friends to my house to eat Macaroni & Cheese to the woman who thinks it is easier, or more enjoyable to eat pasta alone?

So, while I don't have anything BIG in my life, I am making a declaration. I want to change and I want to grow. I don't know how it will happen, but I am going to begin to pray that God will transform me. I don't want to only let people into my world when I am lacing up my hiking shoes. I want to allow them in when I am tearing into that big blue box as well. I guess, I just need to find a support group. Or maybe I should start a group. I could call it,

"Support for Women who have Become Comfortable Being Alone But know that they Need to Not Be This Comfortable...and who also Love Cheese"

We could serve pasta at our meetings.

Stealing Tangerines

I don't like treadmills, I am much to A.D.D. for them. I had one for a while and there were times that I would begin my workout and an hour and a half later find myself in the garage, knee deep in old High School yearbooks, with no memory of how I had arrived there. I have also tried the "walking the track", but it lacked the fulfillment of reaching the destination. I mean, I passed the finish line 3 times before I actually got to call it the finish line. But, walking is a way for me to spend time with God and come back rejuvenated. Headphones and a mix of worship and pop music and I'm good for an hour or more of finding my way through the streets and the trails of the foothills.

So, I leave my home and head out into the treacherous unknown fully aware that I don't get to be done until I return home.

On my way up the first hill near my home I have spotted a small, but wealthy, tangerine tree. The fruit have the same appearance as the "cuties" that I've purchased at the grocer. Now, I know that the 8th Commandment given by Moses is "Thou shalt not steal". I got it. But, I have never claimed to be a saint. And when it comes to challenging the authority of God or making wise food choices I would certainly not be one to point a finger at Eve. Besides, there are a couple of branches that hang over the fence and if I stand on the rock and lean toward the gate, I can reach the branch and pull a few away. Just a few. They are sweeter than the ones that I buy from the grocer, perhaps it's because they have no pesticides, perhaps it's because I am out in the sun and moving and refreshment is needed, perhaps it is because they give me a feeling of power. Like a drug dealer in an impoverished city, I've gotten away with a crime of great proportions.

Around the corner, through the park and up another hill leads me to a place to walk that is an escape from the concrete suburb that is my reality. A path leads down a trail that moves behind the homes. Backyards are visible on either side and there are slopes that lead down to a stream in the middle making for a simple, natural elegance.

Today as I made my way down the path, listening to songs that influence me to move faster, I saw something running. At first I thought it was a dog, and then I could see that he was skinny and steadfast. I could see that he was intent in his movement. He was a coyote, traveling somewhere in a hurry. He was on the other side of the stream, and I felt no danger--he seemed completely unconcerned with me. He kept coming and then he passed and he never looked at the strange woman in her silly workout clothes, eating a stolen tangerine.

I stopped and turned to watch him run. And then my eye was drawn to the sun reflecting on the stream and I couldn't help but reach into my pocket and turn off the music. This moment was so beautiful that it deserved to be viewed in its natural state. In the silence--I could hear the stream, I could hear the birds talking to one another and I could hear the sounds that I still can't identify. Looking at the reflection of the sun beating down on the water like a diamond ring too big and too bright for the small hand of the stream, I felt small and, yet, loved as I remembered that God takes care of all of His creatures. I thought of the verse I had been trying to memorize earlier...

"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind"

And in that stillness, I could feel the transformation that I eagerly seek. I could feel the peace that often evades me.

And that is when I knew that it was okay for me to steal the tangerines. I didn't steal something that someone else was going to enjoy. Most likely they would have become overripe and fell to the ground, only to be removed later as trash. Those two little tangerines never belonged to anyone until I ate them. That is when they found their owner.

There are things happening all around us and we will either snatch them up to treasure or they will go to waste. Nothing stays as it is. Everything, aside from the Word of God, is constantly changing. The only constant we have is Him, everything else is up for grabs.

From the time my children were born, they didn't realize it, but they were taking steps to live a life separate from me. Like coyotes on a trail, they are now ready to burst from the doors of my home and take on the world. And, I am so blessed to be in a place where I have so many people who recognize and remind me that this is a good change, a necessary trail. For them, it is a crucial path that they must run on, and stumble on, and get up and run on again. But, it is also a quintessential journey for me. I have to walk the path without them. For one, I could never keep up with the speed at which these coyotes will travel--I'm older now, and I stop to look at the sun in the stream. But also, I need to walk and trust that God is enough. He wants me to come to him believing that He alone is enough. Even if all the coyotes sprint so far down the trail that I can no longer see them--He is enough. Even if other than raising and releasing these coyotes, I never do another amazing thing--He is enough. And even if, God forbid, I end up on this trail alone--He is enough.

So, for the time being, I will continue to gather these tangerine moments--I will do my best to not let any fall to the ground and waste away unnoticed. And I will do it all knowing full well that soon the branch will be out of my reach and there will not be a rock that will boost me high enough to reach the fruit.

Life is better, now that I'm not a car

I have been blessed to be in healthy churches with good teaching for the last 25 years. As a Youth Pastor's wife, I have been to summer camp more times than the average person--and the camps that I have attended have consistently had really good teaching. I have attended Women of Faith 6 times and many other women's events and retreats that have had best selling authors as the speakers.

This has been such a tremendous blessing in my life and I count it all to the credit of Christ and his provision in my life. Looking back at this abundance of solid teaching in my life, I recently realized something remarkable: I am not a car. I am not a SUV, a minivan or a luxury sedan. I am definitely not a hybrid. 

I have recently realized that I've spent a major portion of my life as a believer behaving more like a car than a person.

I have a VW Beetle and about once a week I go to the gas station near my house and I attach the hose and fill my tank with gas. When I am really on top of the situation, I even take the hose out of the tank before I drive away from the pump. My car is full. It will now take me around town with the exact same horsepower the entire time, whether its gage says it has a half a tank or a quarter of a tank. It doesn't care if the last time I put gas in the tank was on Saturday, it will travel just a faithfully on Tuesday.

But, I am not a car. I need fuel everyday. I need 8 glasses of water every day. If I drink 8 glasses today, I still need to drink 8 glasses tomorrow. And the next day, I need 8 more. I don't store my water on Sunday and wait until the following Sunday for more water. If I were to do that, my lips would get chapped, my skin would get pasty and my joints would get achy. I need water to keep me going through my day, and if I get a little dehydrated, I can't make it up tomorrow. Tomorrow has its own 8 glasses to drink.

But, in my spiritual life, I had developed a habit to try and store up the good stuff and keep going on that. Unintentionally, but certainly, not for lack of knowing the right thing to do, I have spent too many days trying to get by on what was put in the tank over the weekend.

It's not that I haven't been in Bible studies, because I have. But, sadly, they would often become a task to complete. "Fold the clothes, empty the dishwasher, do chapter 3..."

At some point in my life, I stopped depending on the bible for the power that I needed.

I am not sure that this is something that I should be testifying to, because it is certainly not something that others should aim for. I wish I could say that I have been more faithful in allowing God to speak to me every single day through his word. I wish I could say that I had never been distracted in my walk to put my faith, ever so slightly, in other things. I wish I had more of the Bible committed to memory because I had spent more time reading it and absorbing it.

I won't beat myself up about that now. What good would that do? Would it change the hours that I spent filled with anxiety? Would it answer the questions that are no longer there?

I am just glad that I now understand my thirst.

In August, my friend, Rachel Collins was speaking at an event. She was talking about digging deeper into God's word and she said, "Don't be too lazy to sit down and read your Bible". I cannot tell you how many times that has been repeated in my head. While doing the some of the crazy things I do when I am home alone, I've heard her voice and stopped what I was doing and went and sat down--to avoid being lazy.

The good news is that now that I am not living like a car, life is better. When I am in the place to hear a great speaker--every point has more meaning and less of a need to carry me for days. Sometimes, I am still hit in the morning with a surge of anxiety that grabs my stomach and feels like it won't let go. But, I open my Bible and begin to read the words of Jesus and literally drink the living water and the grip lessens, the fears subside. I find myself craving this water and I hope that thirst never goes away.

Time Change

My husband is a runner and several days a week he gets up early to fasten his running shoes to his feet and pound the pavement. Being a light sleeper, I hear him rise and I begin an internal battle about my own exercise routine. I enjoy a morning walk and I am always glad that I made the effort to walk--after the walk is over. Before the walk, I am not thrilled in any way and I would much rather lay in bed while my husband is outside changing the world with his running. And then he can bring a cup of coffee to my nightstand when he is finished.

However, I know that this isn't healthy, so I lay there having a battle. There is a cute park that I can walk to in the morning. It is a triangle shape, much like a folded flag, and it is filled with flowering trees that are dedicated to the likes of Betsy Ross, Martha Washington and others from American history. I walk up the hill and around the darling little park and then back down the hill and it takes a little over a half an hour to complete the course. On a perfect day, I get up at 6 AM, when my "running man" gets up , and I head out the door by 6:15. I can be back home and in the shower before 7. It leaves me time to sit and read while I eat my breakfast. My whole day feels a little lighter to carry.

This is becoming increasingly difficult for me to do. Lately when I wake up at 6 AM--it is still dark outside and my mind gets confused about what we are supposed to be doing. So, I lay in bed and have the following argument with myself:

"Get up."-- the cruel woman says.

"No. It's dark."-- the tired woman answers.

"You need to walk."

"No. It's nighttime."

"Your getting fat."

"Ouch. How about if we walk at lunch?"

"It will be too hot."

"After work. We will walk after work. It will be so nice. We can bring the dog and the man and we can go to the park with the ducks..."

"You'll say your too tired after work. Get up."

"But its so dark. I can't do anything when its so dark and scary!"

You get the picture, right? So, eventually at the end of the argument I drag "her" out of bed, put on my shoes and head out the door. Time wasted arguing has pushed the clock forward, it's 7 AM. I have to hurry to the top of the hill, around the old flag lady park, then back down the hill and straight into the shower. I want to have my time to read at breakfast, so, while I am out, I try to pick up my speed and for about 50 strides I, too, become a runner. But, running is not my friend. There are too many things to strap down and hold up to really enjoy the pounding. Things are just flying everywhere and, seriously, someone could get hurt. The whole walk is less enjoyable and I end up feeling a little frazzled when I jump into the shower. Breakfast ends up being a granola bar and a banana that I eat in my car. My day doesn't have the same optimistic vibe.

So, this morning when my runner's little phone alarm started playing the Battle of the Republic and it was still dark all around me, I raised my head and spied that it was 6 AM and with a half of a sigh and mostly an irritated complaint I asked, "When is the time change?"

"Next month" the runner replied.

A whole month of darkness in the morning? 30 mornings of fighting to get up and get out on the road to create endorphins in the dark? But, I'm tired of the darkness! I need the change to come now!

Somehow, I manage to drag "her" out of bed and into a sports bra. As I head out the door, I begin my walk up the hill with my ipod in tow. I am tired and cold and acutely aware that if the sun were out it would be a lot less scary.

One step after another my mind fades into thoughts of what I will be doing the rest of the day. My heart gets a little heavy and the anxious feelings turn into knots and begin to tighten my stomach. I am not looking forward to going to work today. Finding joy and peace where I work seems nearly impossible. From the first hour of the first day, it has been one of the most emotionally trying experiences I've ever gotten myself into.

But, due to the economy, I do what a lot of people are doing. I work and I save. And I pray. I know that God sees everything that I am going through, and He is there with me from the moment I clock into work on Monday until I dig through my purse for my keys on Friday. I'm never there alone and I'm always clocked in for Him. I work to serve Him and to bring Him the glory by being as much like Jesus as I can. I try to think of how Jesus would be if he were the one giving a child his flu shot. How would he treat this child, how would he treat this child's parents?

I know that it can't stay this way forever and my thoughts began to wrap around how much I am waiting on God to bring about change. I know that I won’t always be where I am. God has reassured me that He is at work and so I wait for God to work a miracle and change my circumstances. But the change isn't coming and my spirit is becoming more and more weak. The battle at work rages and I continue praying for God to transform my situation. I ask for Him to get me out of there, I even fax out my resume to help Him save me--but, He doesn't.

I think back to the last few weeks when I reached a point of utter desperation and despair. I wanted to fall down and I wanted to allow my depression to take over, but I couldn't. See, the battle has been going on for many months and I've been begging God to rescue me and in that moment that I was truly at my lowest--He lifted me up. I had spent so much time pleading with God to save me--that He saved the me that no one else can see.

It seems the more I pray for God to change my situation, the more He allows my situation to change me--for His good. And He will change the exterior of my situation, when His time is right. I won't always work at the place I am working, but, when He moves me to the next place I will be stronger for the time I've spent clinging to Him.

As I come around the edge of the first corner of the triangle park I am in a new state of satisfaction. My walk is almost over and looking out across the valley at the fog and I am so thankful that I am awake and outside and watching the sun melting away the mist. I am so glad that I was able to move through the morning haze and welcome this new day. I am reminded that God will do the same thing in my life. The haze will lift, perhaps slowly and I will be able to experience the new plan that He is mapping out for me. And having journeyed through the darkness will make me all the more thankful for the arrival into the place of light. I find a sense of peace knowing this.

As I am heading down the hill and beginning my cool down, I reach into my pocket and change my ipod to shuffle. I like to cool down with surprise music and let myself sing along to whatever happens. I spin my finger around the dial without looking and then jab the start button. As soon as I hear the music, it is like the lighting of a candle—delicate, soft and familiar--all at once. Before the lyrics begin, I am pleased. Then I hear the sound of George Harrison’s familiar vocals:

“Little darling…it's been a long cold lonely winter”

And I begin to sing with him. I am now walking with John, Paul, George and Ringo. We are heading down the hill and I am singing at the top of my lungs. The chorus comes and the words get stuck in my throat—

“Here comes the sun” and suddenly, my eyes well up with tears. Like a covenant to seal the deal, God gives me a song. Everything He was just telling me is suddenly echoed in the words of a Beatles song. I feel so ashamed of my doubt over the last few months. The sun is rising in the sky and God is raising the sun in my life. He is taking me to new places to experience Him on a new path.

As I wait for the clock to be changed, I will continue to argue with myself about getting up early and walking and I will always win the argument—whether I get up or not! But as I wait for God to change some of the things that I am in the midst of dealing with I won’t argue and I won’t allow doubt to control my mood. Luci Swindoll says in her book Life—Celebrate It "The best of human freedoms is the ability to choose my own attitude in any set of circumstances."

"But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?" Romans 8:24

His timing for the daybreak is perfect. I place my hope in Him and I wait.