Choosing Differently

Today. Today I read this and this and this as I carved out time to just enjoy the morning. Window shades pulled up to let light in. Coffee in a spill-proof cup because I still haven't found the night stands I really want and the coffee has to sit in my lap for now. Covers all messy around me and over me. Laptop waiting with words that will fill the emptiness created by not purposing to fill it. Instead I've just allowed myself to ache over emptiness and then ache some more. Boredom and emptiness beget boredom and emptiness. Yet in the low places where they both wait, it takes effort to not be lulled by them into complacency and then settle for them as companions.

So I chose differently. Today. I chose to sip at the drink that I've unwittingly abandoned, the one that ever satiates my thirsty soul. Words beautiful and words deep breathe life into me. Words written from the heart of God and placed in The Book that will never be out sold, and other words that He delivers, written from the same place but bound with a different cover, or none at all, with a different title, because that someone bowed in passionate obedience and listened and then set those words free.

I've neglected words, and I am well aware again of the price I pay when I do. Thirsty. Parched. Dry. Cracking. Apathetic. And then bored and empty.

But today I chose differently. That's all it really takes. Choosing Differently. Yet that choice can feel too hard and almost beyond my ability when I neglect it for too many days in a row. Or weeks. Or months.

And it's not that I've disregarded His Word for too long. Because they are there. Always there. It's in the choice to sip and walk away or linger and drink the entire cup that determines my level of saturation afterward.

No, it's not that I haven't chosen His Word, but instead the addition of words He chooses to write through attentive hearts. And I've neglected also allowing Him to write through mine.

And it's not that His Word isn't enough, it's always all and then some, but there's good reason that He also chooses to give words to others. Because His heart continues through those who sit with Him and then release to us. 

And it's not just words. It's every gift really.

But for me it's that written trifecta. That perfect storm that keeps my heart alive and fresh and inspired, and keeps boredom and emptiness at bay: His Words. Their Words. My Words. Really ALL His, but dealt out to different hands and hearts.

Words inspire me and feed me and drive me and love on me. And today I chose not to abandon them but to abandon myself to them.

What feeds you, drives you, loves on you and inspires you? Then choose it today. Remember, that's all it really takes: Choosing Differently.

Unbound

Seven days ago I sat down and wrote the following blog:

"Writing is an act of worship. It's choosing perfect words and placing them in precise order. It's downloading and concentrating life's epiphanies to a microchip of influence. The purpose of taking pen in hand to illuminate the face and heart of God; and the result is to aid humankind in the process of being changed into His likeness. I can't write unless I am inspired by nothing less than Him--not my ideas or creativity or thought process or experience. Him." Bonnie Saul Wilks

It's a quiet kind of Sunday morning as I head out to my balcony, coffee and laptop in hand, chair already positioned in the shade from days ago. These times are few and far between anymore: the solitude of thought and technology woven with the warmth and peace of the unhurried sunrise.

The past few months have not held a very productive season of writing for me, and this blog shows it. Not because my heart stopped thinking or bits of heavenly revelation ceased to break through into my tiny piece of inhabited earth. Quite the contrary. There's been an abundance of life and countless ruminating moments and God ordained epiphanies. Enough that I could have been here--writing--every day.

But my daily routine--even as unroutine as it is--was flipped on its head when my husband became a full-time presence in our home. February brought unexpected news of company downsizing and with the loss of his job came the surrender of a very appreciated and helpful tool: a company laptop he used both at work and home. Owning only one laptop personally, and with lives that are greatly intertwined with the Internet, decreasing from two computers to one was a pinch deeply felt.

I once had a laptop I called "mine" (although I shared it with our kids) that allowed me the freedom to tackle the technology tethered side of my life as I pleased. Emails, spreadsheets, budget tracking, home school, bill paying, social media, reading, writing, researching, etc. were done throughout my day at will. Flexibility is not only a requirement with my role responsibilities, ironically, it's also a key factor in remaining sane on days where schedules are crazy and I log hours of chauffeur time in the car. 

But it's the sharing of this one laptop that has strictly limited my time and access, and in turn, has bound me and my words. Often I am too discouraged to write, for the choice between productivity and creativity always looms.

Writing has always been about a moment of seized opportunity--a Carpe Diem of words and time--when I can't go one more minute without allowing my fingers to speak through the keyboard, spilling inside-out my thoughts and emotions and God's unveiled truths. Purging is cathartic and necessary. When held within, too many words cause me to feel burdened. Heavy. Writing frees me. Without it, I seem to shrivel.

Sensory stimulus is also a necessary part of thought release; my linguistic spring board of sorts. A desk, an office chair and a static monitor do not stir the pot of words in my soul. Give me an open window, or better yet, an unlocked door to the bounty of life outside these four walls and it is then that I am unleashed, free to roam in contemplation and creativity.

I need to personally witness the occasional hawk soaring among the clouds of the blue sky, breathe in the fresh air, regardless of what temperature the digital thermometer reads, and listen to the harmony of a bird's song and cricket's chirp mixed with the intermittent sound of a car door closing or engine turning over. Every moment out there is the potential catalyst for a new idea recorded here.

But it's the restriction of time with this shared laptop that has bound me, and the heaviness of this word load inside me is beginning to take its toll.

I take a step outside. Butterflies are thriving this year. I don't just want to read about them through a post on someone's wall or see them via a friend's Twitpic. I want to marvel at their spotted wings and tongues that curl like cinnamon rolls with my own eyes. And those birds that are a constant presence on the rain gutter above my living room window? I want to listen to them with my own ears and wonder what they're communicating to one another ... or their Creator. Their song is like a beautiful prayer language. I don't know what is being said, I just know that they are speaking and that God is listening.

It's in moments like these where sight and sound becomes the invitation and inspiration to write.

"Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can't see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of His divine being." Romans 1:20 [MSG]

I look and listen, asking for mystery to be unveiled through creation; for the Hand of Heaven to reach down and write His Words on my heart.

"God's glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon. Madame Day holds classes every morning, Professor Night lectures each evening. Their words aren't heard, their voices aren't recorded, but their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere. God makes a huge dome for the sun - a super dome! The morning sun's a new husband leaping from his honeymoon bed. The day-breaking sun an athlete racing to the tape." Psalm 19:1-4 [MSG]

A lone bird has flown through balcony openings between guard rail and ceiling five separate times in just as many minutes. I stop. Always stop and give an audience to the comings and goings of God's creatures. She is "this close" to me. Fluttering, even pausing mid-air, repetitively looking for a place to land. But rest is not found here for her. I want to capture this moment on film, but the thought comes too late. Her investigation has concluded and a subsequent choice to locate a wider beam is made. As she flies away, I wonder if God's creatures are as fascinated with my movements and sounds as I am with theirs? I shake my head in answer to my own question. Probably not. He did not create us for them, but them for us. 

I pause to ponder and stop to see, soaking in what can only be enjoyed in moments of intermission, and I realize how much I have missed these writing recesses--deliberate sojourns in my day taken with the sole purpose of becoming and transcribing inspiration--of hearing Him in bird's song, seeing Him in soaring wings and inhaling Him in morning breeze. With this computer in my lap, I record much of what I experience--embers of ideas holding the potential of completed word offerings.

But it's the sharing of this laptop that has bound me and my words and restricted my access to opportunities like these. Or has it?

Oh, how a week can change circumstances, even when nothing but perspective is shifted. Let me explain...

In April, Anthony and I were meeting with a friend at church (actually he was meeting and I was tagging along). Through our discussion said friend concluded correctly that as a family we were sharing one laptop and popped up with, "Could you guys use an iMac? It's an older one, but I don't use it anymore and would love to bless your family." Whaaaat? Within 24 hours we had the computer in our home and set up at the family desk. Every time I walked by it I was blown away by God's goodness and the utmost generosity of this friend.

What tickled me even more was that four years earlier Anthony had shown me an iMac at the Apple store in Southlake and told me that it was the computer he wanted for our family, but we weren't in a place of needing or affording a new system. Within that time frame we went from four computers to one: two Windows desktops crashed (because that's just what they do) and my MacBook died (because I accidentally spilled some coffee on it), and we've been operating with our lone laptop for the past year.

With this gift, God not only doubled the computer access in our home but, more significantly, He also blessed us with the very computer my husband had desired for our family. That's not just provision but Ephesians 3:20 abundance.

Here's how I tie today's thoughts with the blog above: When we brought the iMac home we had the choice of using it as our family computer or setting it up in our bedroom (which is also Anthony's office) and allowing the family to use the laptop. We decided the iMac was the better choice for the family for three reasons: the MB Pro has years of life on it for both Anthony and me, the substantial monitor on the iMac allows us to easily view what our kids are doing on the internet and it just made sense because it was the very system Anthony had talked about for years. So I moved the files I absolutely needed from the laptop to the iMac and relished, albeit shortly, the opportunity to accomplish my responsibilities during daytime hours instead of waiting until evening when Anthony could relinquish the laptop.

What I quickly discovered was that everything I worked on, from finances to personal email, was visible to anyone who walked by because our family computer is located in a high traffic area and the large iMac monitor puts everything on easy display. On the creative scale, I found writing difficult because "A desk, an office chair and a static monitor (facing a blank wall) do not stir the pot of words in my soul."

Within weeks I curtailed my usage on the iMac until the kids had gone to bed (for privacy) and found myself right back in the same quandary I had previously been in when sharing the laptop: working and writing later in the night, or not at all, because daytime hours contained obstacles and evening hours were filled with dinner, family time and chauffeuring responsibilities. The iMac was a huge blessing and joy for our kids, and for that I was over-the-moon thankful, but it just wasn't working for me. Or was it?

Fast forward 60 days, past April's gift and last Sunday's lament, to yesterday's epiphany that brought a large slice of freedom to our household ... okay, really to me. While working at the iMac God asked me, "Why is the static computer out here and the portable laptop in there (our bedroom) when Anthony is always sitting at the desk working? Wouldn't it make more sense to bring the laptop out here so that you can have the freedom you need to unplug and move about?"

*Insert the sound of God's common sense brick hitting me upside the head*

[And there's a bonus ... the kids don't even have to touch the laptop because we have an external mouse and keyboard attached, and we can still see their movement on the internet because we have a large dual monitor set up next to it.]

"There is a way that seems right to man, but in the end it leads to death." Proverbs 14:12

Allow me a little latitude with this scripture. I know it references our choices in life leading to eternal death, but on a surface level it fits this situation. For months I had been shriveling (dieing) inside--from a way that seemed right--when the answer was in front of me the entire time. God had not only provided a second computer to solve the laptop sharing dilemma, but had also made a way for the flexibility (life) my soul craved. My eyes were so focused on the what-made-the-most-sense-details that I completely missed the forest for the trees. I can hear Gateway's freedom teaching resounding in my head now: "We have to get you to remove your hand from in front of your face so God can show you the bigger picture."

And yes, in case you doubted, God is interested in and even cares about the seemingly insignificant "life problems" such as how to best share computers because we're told that "the very hairs on our heads are numbered" (Luke 12:7), and that seems like pretty useless information to me.

Hand gone. Vision caught. Problem solved. Freedom found.

I am now unbound.

Team KK

I am an avid reader of Karen Kingsbury's books because, as a fiction writer, she has an incredible knack for using words to pull you into her stories and make you feel as if you know her characters like family. She just posted another opportunity to become part of Team KK, and both Teighlor and I posted our submissions for a chance to win. Below is the info and my response (because I thought it would be fun to have this post on my blog and look back if I get chosen):

TEAM KK NOTICE: It's that time again!!!
I will choose 30 of you to win an ADVANCE COPY of LOVING for the purpose of REVIEWING it for our FACEBOOK FRIENDS here in my virtual living room!! I will also choose 30 of you, whose comments I will publish in an upcoming book.
HOW TO ENTER: Write 1-3 lines describing me as an author or the way you feel about my books. Also include 1 line about why you want to be on TEAM KK. I will choose 30 of you whose comments I will publish in an upcoming book. OR I may choose you among an additional 30 people to be on TEAM KK. If you are chosen to be on TEAM KK, you will receive the book next week and you will need to submit a 250-word review by Friday, March 9. NO SPOILERS, of course :) Please only enter if you are able to do this :)
You will receive a private message tomorrow if you are a winner.
Submit your comment about me or my books below this post. You could win by having your comment selected for a future book, or by being selected as TEAM KK, to review an advance copy of LOVING.
Entries can be submitted through 8 a.m. Friday (PST).
Here we go!!! Love you all :)

"In a world inundated with writers who fill pages with hopeless violence, excessive indulgence and unnecessary promiscuity, Karen always captures my heart with characters that become family members and story-lines filled with hope, redemption and the transforming power of God's love. Her books are shining lights in a dark world."

"I want to be on Team KK to get even a small chance to be a part of Karen's ministry through the faithful use of her God-give gift with story-telling would be the opportunity of a lifetime for this devoted reader."

Team KK gets chosen this week. I'm hoping that both of us get picked, but if I had to be honest, it would thrill me most if Teighlor was chosen because she lives and breathes Karen's books, even to the point of reading some multiple times.

God, would you bless Teighlor with this special opportunity? Love, her Mom

Am I Willing?

Coincidence? I don't believe in coincidence.

"This line soaked deep into me. It made me wonder how many moments we experience on a day-to-day basis are arranged by God - for us - for our refreshment and strengthening. How many do we miss? Surely He is bigger than just one interaction. We praise Him for the one. But if we were willing, would we be more overwhelmed by His care for us than our concerns?" [coli jones]

One comment to what was already written stirs a continuation of thought. Causes me to pause and ponder.

If we were habitually obedient to write for the naked eye what HolySpirit purposes to write on the flesh of our hearts, how would our sight be refocused and refined? How much more would we find ourselves in the state of partnering with the Source of Inspiration to inspire the same in others?

... if we were willing - not just to see - but to ask to be shown.

And then He stirs again. "Define. Wholly understand. Don't assume you've mastered the words I chose to whisper. Knowing will both help you recognize their worth and affect your appreciation of the 'why' behind them."

Inspire: to affect, guide or arouse by divine influence.

Habit: a recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior that is acquired through frequent repetition; an established disposition (tendency) of the mind or character.

Obey: to fulfill or carry out the command, order or instruction of.

(re)Focus: a condition in which something can be clearly seen … (re) again.

Refine: to reduce to a pure state; purify.

Can you see it? The common thread woven from the first word to the last? [divine influence. unconscious pattern. fulfill. see clearly. purify.]

Not everyone would define themselves a writer; one who writes. A lover of the written word, both to take in and pour out. I write because I listen with my fingers. But don't allow the verb to trip you up. Communication into us and out of us is the focal point; not the specific way in which it is expressed. 

HolySpirit chose 'write' for me because words are, to me, like the time signature to the composer; the empty canvas to the painter; the lens to the photographer; the musical key to the singer. 

Too artsy? 

How about the baseball grip to the pitcher? The syllabus to the teacher? The soil to the gardener? The fabric to the designer? The wood to the carpenter? 

The verb is the action of what we do naturally. The way in which we see. The language used to inspire and drive and compel. The essence of desire. The push and pull of purpose. The beginning of vision and the motivation of fruition.

It is how we communicate because it is the way in which communication was first spoken into us, creating who we are and the way we see, hear, feel, touch and sense. 

"How many moments ... do we miss?", she wonders. I wonder, too. 

Maybe the real question is: Am I willing?

Wilderness, Work and Water

Tonight, after Anthony and I unexpectedly found ourselves pulled into an unexpected situation involving a family member, I sat down in my living room to decompress. My house is quiet. All beds are filled with their familiar nighttime guests, except for mine. While my body is tired from the emotions surrounding the evening, my mind and heart need ... something.

A welcoming warmth is radiating from my log-filled fireplace, while orange flickering flames softly light the living space boundaries hemmed in by caramel colored, corduroy couches. Much needed rain is still falling outside. Has been for most of the day.

Opening my laptop, I catch up on the latest 140 character thoughts published since my last check of Twitter hours prior. I think about blogging. "What's the purpose in blogging about this?", I purposely ask myself, not from a negative point of view but from one that is seeking. Seeking purpose.

Instead of launching into writing, I peruse the list of writers on the right side of the screen. Writers that have this way of moving my heart, or inspiring me, or tweaking my perspective. Perspective is what I got tonight. Much needed perspective. Confirmation really.

"I truly don't know what tomorrow will bring, but God has moved me to a place of faith for the miraculous like I have never known." Connie Swain

These are the words I couldn't quite see holding onto the tip of my tongue as I tried to describe to a friend the sense of calm in the midst of our storm as I thanked her for covering us in prayer. But when I read this statement that followed a testimony of multiple physical miracles for another friend's husband, I knew that the same words HolySpirit wrote on her heart to infuse faith into her unknown tomorrows were also multiplying the faith God had already imparted to mine. God's Words multi-task. I love that about Him.

And as I write, I am again reminded by HolySpirit of God's Promise spoken over our 2011.

Forget about the past. Can't you see? Be alert. Be present. I am doing something new! I'm making a road through the wilderness. And rivers in the desert.

New doesn't always come easy. That's not part of the promise. Making a road requires work. And the wilderness isn't the easiest place to live or from where to forge a new beginning. But He did promise 'rivers in the desert'.

The wilderness and the work will be accompanied by the Water.

The current work in this wilderness could take a day, a week, or months. But with life-giving water--rivers of it--promised, my heart is at peaceful rest ... like Jesus' was in the midst of the storm on the Sea of Galilee.

I rest because I know that God knows. And with one word, winds can be halted ... and hearts can be healed.

Ann's Gifts

This page is inspired by One Thousand Gifts written by Ann Voskamp. I was introduced to the existence of this book through an article on Destiny In Bloom and purchased it to read at the end of August 2011. Every sentence is worth soaking in. The loveliness of language worth languishing over. And the idea of seeing beauty in the routine and often harsh moments of life caught my attention. That of choosing a different perspective allows our eyes to see God in everything. And looking long enough to behold the gift in the tiniest moment captured my heart. This is "my life story in freeze frames of gifts" (pg. 82).

Walking below, man's laughter echos. {9.5.11}

Morning's cool breeze. Balcony's solitude. Coffee, warm and welcoming. Words of One Thousand Gifts beckoning my heart. {9.5.11}

NRH2O chimes ... ding, ding, ding, diiiing. A sound I will miss when this balcony is no longer mine. {9.5.11}

Wind's breath rustling leaves. Crackling sounds of summer's drought. {9.5.11}

Autumn debuting with a 70 degree morning sun. Crickets still chirp. Birds sing joyful. Tires whir on black asphalt. Wind whistles through branches swaying. Leaves crackle, racing along blades of grass burned brown, parched for cloud's gift of rain tears. I soak in every sound. Treasuring each one, unique in its language of life ... God given. {9.6.11}

Two sisters, about 4 and 2, hopping madly with excitement in the parking lot, waiting for mom to lead the way into NRH2O. {9.6.11}

The scent of fresh air touched by the incoming swell of Autumn's arrival. {9.6.11}

A family of oak trees with white picket boards marking home boundaries rise out of sunlit covered expansive fields of green. A gift of wide-open peacefulness now anticipated with our early morning school journeys. {9.8.11}

Tricolor peppercorn found in the mix of spice jars when pepper mill was running low. {9.9.11}

Watching from my balcony, mom and son clipping yellow wild flowers on a cool and quiet 9/11 morning. Seeing beauty in a weed most others would pass by. I believe this is how God sees. While others see a wild weed, He sees a radiantly golden bloom with faces always upturned. Flower or Weed ... it's all in the perspective. See Differently. {9.11.11}

Streaming rays of morning sunshine filling the expanse of field and sky. {9.14.11}

Falling drops of quench-thirsting, long-awaited rain. {9.14.11}

Picking her [Ann's] gift of words up again and being reminded of what is so easily forgotten. {6.12.12}

A hawk soars in the same sky as a plane. From this distance they visually appear to be traveling at the same speed. Dynamic Perspective. {6.24.12}

become INSPIRED

There are painters ... and then there are those who create masterpieces.
There are photographers ... and then there are those who capture lifeANDart with every frame.
There are singers ... and then there are those who open heaven's gates with angelic voices.
There are writers ... and then there are those who wax poetically with every word.

Ann Voskamp is a poet who just happens to also write. She has a gift that is not teachable or passed on through a "Writing For Dummies" book. Her words flow off her fingertips, fusing beauty with every day life as naturally and unforced as our bodies inhale and exhale the very breath that keeps us alive from one moment to the next.

Simply lean back and relax into the opening sentiment of her latest blog:

"When love slips up from behind unannounced, who can do anything but just surrender to happy grace?"

Or the way she records this heart-memory. The simple act of her father surprising her with a bouquet of gladiolas, hand-delivered in a recycled, Cheez Whiz glass jar:

"I'll happen to remember this forever. How you never know when love might come knocking unannounced at your door. How you never know who loves. How you mustn't ever stop believing. How he even blushed, boyish, shuffling in his boots."

Or the poetic simplicity of describing tomatoes as "summer's largest berries". Painting a detailed picture in our imaginations with three words in place of the stock photograph our minds would have recalled had she left us with that single red word ... tomato.

I am inspired and motivated by anything creative ... as I wrote about in a recent blog titled Inspiration. But words have a distinctive way of capturing my affections and tucking themselves into my soul like songs that braid lyrics and melodies with memories ... flooding my heart with all the life and emotion of specific moments, no matter how many years have passed since they were lived.

Maybe it's because all of creation was initiated by Words: "And God said...".
Maybe it's because God left his heart, his history and his future for us through his Words breathed into the authors of the Bible.
Maybe my heart is inexplicably pulled to that form of expression because it was spoken into my unique DNA as my creator knit me in my mother's womb.
And maybe, just maybe, it's due to the comprehensiveness of the letter "D", which is perpetually reserved for that "all of the above" answer on every multiple choice test.

Whether A, B, C or D, it does not matter. Words are woven into the very texture of my soul. They are my gift of expression ... the same way that the sweet scent of jasmine is woven into the delicate, white plumes of the vine that blooms on warm nights and gifts us with its essence of summer.

Every one of us has creativity coursing through our cells, like a river winding down the slopes of a mountainside. We are drawn to that which was spoken into us. It may be covered by time or the pace of life. But just like creation was meant for us to discover, so is your unique gift. If your soul feels desolate or unvisited, brush off the dust to your heart and allow HolySpirit to uncover -- again or for the first time -- that which makes you ... YOU!

become INSPIRED.

Two Lessons

I am beginning to believe that HolySpirit is doing his best to pound a message into my heart and soul ... {live life}. Every morning I'm reading this or that blog, from this or that author. There are my usuals I look for, and then there are the random writings that are discovered through a tweet or being on someone else's blog. The passage below was courtesy of following Lauren Barlow on Twitter:

"As I get older I realize how precious life is. How every moment has the potential to be a defining point in the timeline of life. The good and the bad. Because time is precious. Moments are defining. Life is meant to be experienced to the full. And I can honestly say, after looking back on 25, I lived it. I experienced it. I embraced it with all that was within me and because of that, I will never forget 25 as long as I live. ... [and] Now I can add “General Editor” on my list of things I have had the courage to attempt in my life. ... All this to say, no matter how old you are or where you are in your life, own it. Live it to the full. Be there for life. Breathe it in and let it fill you. Cause we’ve got one shot at this so let’s make every second count." Lauren Barlow from BarlowGirl

There were three separate pieces of her blog that grabbed me, which is why I kind of combined them into one big {live life} paragraph. I know it's easy to read a just barely 26-year-old heart and think, "Of course she can write this. She's living a life most of us only dream of. She gets paid for her passion [music], when most of us only work for a living; and she gets to travel the world through both charity opportunities and personally funded vacations [because music is her money maker]. Who couldn't write a blog like this when they're still young, living out their dreams and traveling the world?"


Well, I can't say I don't agree with that (made-up) rant somewhere in that place in my heart that's a bit envious of her opportunities. BUT, I also realize that the reason she can write a blog like this at her young age is because she's followed the dream God planted in her DNA when He was knitting her in her mother's womb. Too many of us burn through our younger years just living as fast and hard--or slow and steady--as we can simply because we ... can. We're immature and carless and careless because we're immature. Too many of us were not taught--really taught--the truth that there's more to Christianity when we're teens and young adults then just sealing our eternity. At least I know this to be my truth. 


I didn't think of [what] God actually created me for as I was growing up, except that I knew in my heart-of-hearts (with memories at the age of 14) that I wanted to be a wife and mom. Maybe [that] was the purpose for which God created me--with a lot of extra stuff that fits into that kind of dream along the journey--and I just was never mature enough in my relationship with Him to understand that. So instead of having my eyes and ears looking and listening for His guidance, I wasted my young adult years on building memories that are nothing but chaff; memories that grew out of moments God never intended for me to experience. 


Before I travel too far off the intended purpose of this blog, I'll reel myself in. There are two points to me saving this particular blog for posterity. 


#1 - Because I am not yet dancing with my Savior in heaven, it's obvious that He still has plans for me here. I can choose to waste the years ahead of believing I'm past my prime or that there's nothing left once mommy-hood is finished; or I can choose to approach each day with a "experience every moment" attitude. 


#2 - I want to continue to get better and better at teaching my children the truth that their lives don't start at 25. Every choice they make (even now) is either drawing them closer to God's plan for their lives or it's a step of wandering away. Helping them to fine tune their God-eyes and God-ears builds a hope in my heart that one day in the not-too-distant future, I will read a blog like Lauren's written by each of my children.

HOW bad do you want it?

That's a question that looms in front of anything and everything that doesn't come easily. It's a question I am [seriously] considering as I choose to post this blog.

HOW bad do i want it?
a little bad?
a lot bad?
i'm willing to sacrifice whatever-it-takes bad?

Today is Monday. Although technicalists (my word) will tell you the new week begins on Sunday, Monday is my mindset ... and I'm sticking to it. Lying ahead of me is a new week. A new beginning. A new opportunity for choice.

God has this unique way of showing me things through a perspective that makes sense to me (as he does with all of us, but I'm only writing about me here). He finds out-of-the-box ways to push motivation towards me. It's my choice whether or not I grab hold.

I was in my closet and this idea hit me upside the head. Randomly. Well, a God-sort-of-randomosity, anyway.

I've been looking for a way to show myself how my body has changed in just four--yep, JUST 4--short years of marriage. Older photos show me [how] I looked in 2007, but they didn't give me perspective ... a then and now sort of glimpse. Well, this morning, God changed that through a photo idea. Here it is:

Jeans: Then and Now! 

The pair of jeans on top are the ones I wore during my first year of marriage. The jeans below them are the ones I wear now ... four years later and 25lbs heavier. Talk about not being able to avoid perspective. This photo leaves zero room for me being able to tell myself, "You haven't changed [that] much". Bull-pucky!

And this is how I looked in my "skinny" jeans:

Although I'm no size 4 and NEVER will be (and I'll never fight to be cuz that's not me), this me is not out of reach and is way more healthy than the current me. I tried the skinny jeans on and could just barely squeeze them over my hips. Don't even ask me about the button and zipper.

This is me now. Obese? No. Overweight? Definitely. Unhealthy? Most importantly!

  

No glitz. No glamour. Just real life.

 

Done up and still can't hide it.

So, to keep those pairs of jeans from hanging in my kitchen as a morbid reminder of where I am and an extreme motivation of what I need to get back to--cuz it's not really practical hanging jeans on your kitchen wall--I'm gonna get that sucker printed and put 1 copy on my fridge door, 1 in my closet, 1 in the pantry, 1 in my bedroom (by the workout DVD's) and 1 in my wallet ... for all those times when I want to indulge myself when away from mi casa.

Yesterday I jotted down a note from this weekend's message: "Truth REQUIRES Responsibility". Once you have the truth it's your choice what you do with it, but God [never] reveals truth for us to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear ... or relax on our couch and feed our faces when our bathroom scale continues to climb.

This truth? I've been lazy and indulgent. [Age has played its part, there's no doubt about that, but many have come up against age and won the war. My battle is no different.] Neither of these attributes are found listed in the fruits of the Spirit or spoken when referencing Jesus, which means (to me) that I've disrespected my God by disrespecting the body He gave me. No condemnation. Just conviction. It's my responsibility to take care of what He gave me.

If I was [this] lazy with my marriage, I'd be divorced. If I was [this] lazy as a parent, I'd have rebellious, out of control kids. Both are given to me by God to take care of. What gave me the right to remove [my body] from that list?

LAZINESS & INDULGENCE ... that's what!

God gave me an idea to take a photo that would (finally) reveal the unavoidable truth. I'm not whining about it. I'm happy He did it. Cuz He knows how to motivate me.

INSPIRATION

It is a verb with these definitions (when used with an object in grammar):
*to fill with an animating, quickening or exalting influence.
*to produce or arouse a thought, feeling, etc.
*to fill or affect with a specified thought or feeling.

When used without an object it means to inhale.

It's origin is Latin combining (in), which means in (duh), and (spirare), which means to breathe. Spirare is where our English word Spirit originates. The suffix tion simply means the condition or state of being. Therefore, it is no wonder that inspiration is an inside-out experience ... HolySpirit filling, producing or affecting our spirits; inhaling into us.

The arts have always inspired me, whether it's in the form of music, dance, theater, writing or a vision captured on canvas. I've come to realize that art, in all its forms, so inspires me for the very reasons that creation, in all its forms, does too. Everything about them--art and creation--started with a breath of life. God spoke and HolySpirit breathed life in the form of earth and man.

And art is just an extension of that original creation process: HolySpirit breaths inspiration into a human heart and the heart expresses that very breath in an outward manifestation, giving us life in the form of art.

From the time I was very young, the love of dance captured a piece of my heart and has stayed there, firmly rooted. My parents helped shaped that love through dance lessons when I was a young girl. I took tap, ballet and even Polynesian lessons, progressing to a year on pointe, until it became obvious that my build was never going to be lithe and fragile--a few qualities required off those on pointe. To this day, I still have the one pair of toe shoes I danced in for that year. A momento of my love of ballet, even though my future as a Principle Dancer in the American Ballet Theater was not in God's plan for me. ;)

So in the 7th grade I left the dance studio behind and ventured into sports, where I excelled quite naturally at volleyball, softball and soccer. But my love of dance never wained, it just nestled more comfortably into my heart; and ever since 7th grade, I've lived vicariously through every show, every recital, every performance I've laid my eyes on.

My greatest moment yet as a spectator? Getting to see the New York City Ballet perform at the Lincoln Center with my Bestie ... a memory seared into that corner of my heart that dance holds. <3

And now, as song and dance have become appreciated again, our TV's are being brought back to life through art in human form. My favorite? So You Think You Can Dance!!! Every week I am moved to tears through, at least, one performance; and over the past couple years, one dancer seems to captivate me from the get-go. So in this season of SYTYCD, I decided to capture "those moments that needed no words to speak to my spirit" and leave them here on my blog, so I could revisit them any time I wanted to.

In this 8th season of SYTYCD, Melanie Moore is [the] dancer that reached right out of the television within 3 seconds of her audition and made me begin cheering for her dances-to-come before she was even chosen for the Top 20.

The minute this short preview of her enormous talent ended, I was grabbing my phone and rewinding the DVR in order to record her audition to video. Here is her original audition: (the quality isn't the best since I was recording from the television to my phone camera, but it's the only way I could get a copy)

I have watched this clip so many times. Inspiration exhaled through movement. Watching her destiny unfold is breathtaking. And watching the joy in her mom's expression is priceless. Can you just imagine a look similar to that on our Father God's [face] as He watched her, too? She is living out loud the life breathed into her.

I determined, after watching this, that I was going to find a way to keep what inspires and moves me here. In the same way that I cherish the memories and lessons taught that I get to look to back on, I want to remember the moments where HolySpirit breathed life into my spirit.

More to come as inspiration becomes a permanent fixture on my blog.