The Perfect Distraction

When I look at my blog and see that it's been almost six months since I last posted anything new, my brain immediately begins flipping through my mind files to determine which event is most relevant to write about, and my heart feels the burden of realizing I've allowed a lot of life to go unrecorded and, possibly, unprocessed.

It's not that I haven't sat here -- at my laptop with the thought to write -- in six months; it's that I haven't sat here with a true desire to forever keep the words rattling around my head and heart. But today ... today I read a portion of scripture posted on a friend's Facebook wall and knew that I would have to ignore that urge to write in order to not write. Yes, I've done this enough times to know that's Holy Spirit nudging me, because when I write, He often speaks.

So, here I go!

"Don’t worry about the wicked or envy those who do wrong. For like grass, they soon fade away. Like spring flowers, they soon wither. Trust in the Lord and do good. Then you will live safely in the land and prosper. Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires. Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you. He will make your innocence radiate like the dawn, and the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun. Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act. Don’t worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes. Stop being angry! Turn from your rage! Do not lose your temper—it only leads to harm. For the wicked will be destroyed, but those who trust in the Lord will possess the land." [Psalm 37:1-9]

These words immediately pulled [her] to the surface of my thoughts and the deep pit of deception that was both created and taught. This passage poked at some of the questions that have been roaming around in my spirit for a couple weeks now and brought about an (almost) immediate release of the anger and confusion that's been resident in my soul just as long. That's the power of the Word of God.

After "the night of discovery and disconnection" a few weeks ago, I have been wandering like a nomad in a desert of anger, regret, questions and blame. I've asked more questions than I have answers to, but, on the flip side, some important puzzle pieces were uncovered and a fractured picture is a bit more whole. Things that haven't made sense for years are now understandable, not justifiable, but understandable.

"Don't worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes." [vs. 7]

A simple statement. A straightforward instruction. My vagabond heart was instantly settled. 

The word scheming has rolled off my tongue numerous times lately when joined with her name, and I've struggled to wrap my mind around her purposeful plotting of a desired outcome that I couldn't help but label as "corrupt". But God's simple instruction of "don't worry" dropped this peace into my spirit that has escaped me since that night. I've been asking a lot "why's?", but in that moment I knew that He was asking me that same question. 

"Why is it so important to you to have the actions and intentions of another person with whom you have little to no relationship explained?"

Hmmm. His question stopped me in my tracks and got me thinking. Asking "why did she ...?" or even "how could she ...?" has been this impenetrable obstacle in my mind. I know one answer is "hurt people hurt people"--I've heard it multiple times and even used it myself in conversation with others--but that wasn't good enough for me, probably because it was now me and not someone else. I thought I needed to reconcile the how and why in order to move forward, but God was challenging me, kind of like a Freedom Pastor. ;) 

"So, how's that working for you?" 

The emotional realty I've surrendered to figuring her out--with no productive results--is pointless, and I see that now. Even if I were to somehow have the why and how revealed, I'm not sure they would bring the peace I've longed for; they would probably just bring more questions.

So I'm laying this part of this journey down. I recognize the futility of my obsession to identify with or influence someone with whom I have zero relational equity, and by choice of my will, I am letting it go ... letting her go ... letting this battle go. Five-and-a-half years later I realize I may have been duped all along anyway. She was never my battlefield, just my enemy's perfect distraction.

*this is just one train of thought regarding this scripture passage, and there are more remaining, but I needed to focus this blog on this one point for sake of clarity and length.

Traveling the Path of Fear and Faith

The thing about paths is that they always lead somewhere. The scary thing about paths is not knowing what kind of journey they'll take me on. The exciting thing about paths is that they always come with an adventure attached ... well, as long as you view life as an adventure ... and I do.

Seeing the end of the path from the beginning is not my promise. Some paths come wrapped in a dream I've longed to take on and fulfill. Others may appear to be cloaked by a cloud of fear trying to disguise itself as the unknown. But in the end, the decision--to put one foot in front of the other and walk--rests squarely on my shoulders. Do I walk by faith or in fear?

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1 [NKJV]

In a blog I read today "10 Things You've Got to Know about Fear", written by Ann Voskamp, there were two points she made with which I really resonated, because one spoke about the path from where I've come (point 5) and the other speaks to the path on which I'm heading (point 6).

“5. We must do that which we know we cannot — to prove that it’s our God who cannot fail.”

I started walking this edict out last year (about this very time) when God asked if I would commit to a year-long women’s group, Titus 2, at my church. One of my longtime fears has revolved around women and engaging in groups of women because I've had a long running relationship with the enemy of comparison due to rejection by the "populars" when I was in elementary and middle school. So my soul questions: Will I fit in? Will I be judged if I don’t dress like they do? Will there already be impenetrable cliques? Will there be whispering and gossip and competition? Will I come out with deeper doubts and greater trust issues, or will my wounds be washed clean by the unknown journey that God is asking me to take with Him?

There were many obstacles in my heart when God asked me to pursue Titus 2, but I did it anyway. I was scared to death, but I trusted in the One who asked me.

"When I am afraid, I put my trust in You." Psalm 56:3 [ESV]

I had enough faith to know that my God would never ask me to do something just so He could throw salt on my open wound. He's in the business of healing not harming, and healing comes in many different forms. Some healing is immediate, but some requires a journey where each choice to step out with God brings truth, which replaces lies, which brings freedom, which heals our wounds day-by-day, and in my case, interaction-by-interaction.

When group started, I wanted nothing more than to find a good "reason", i.e. excuse, to dart and not return after the first week ... and the next, and probably even the next. But once I triumphed (through shear commitment to God alone) past the first few weeks and made it to small group introductions, I found myself settling in and cheering God for putting me in a group with leaders I could relate to. I'm not much of a girly-girl, so having two very down-to-earth, strong and steady women as leaders cemented the deal that I would definitely stay the course for the year. 

Upon completion of my first year, my fear of women is almost gone (I'm still fighting a battle or two with that pesky enemy of comparison), and my rear view mirror is full of goodness: I've gained many new friends, I understand the hearts of women like never before, I've received exceptional teaching from exceptional women walking out their destinies, I've found acceptance and love without condition, and I've been encouraged to pursue even greater paths by having purpose, vision and character spoken into me through "words in season". 

“6. Travel in the direction of your fears — to let God direct your life.”

Now, as I step into my second year with Titus 2, I'm walking into that room not just as a participant but also as a small group leader. Did fear begin speaking once I was approached to be a part of leadership? Yep. And to be honest, multiple times I thought about backing out because fear loves to pursue me, taunting me with the "what if's?". But God kept speaking directly to those places in me that built me up and gave me the courage to keep moving forward, and when I chose to listen to Him, fear had no choice but to stop bullying me.

By hearing and obeying God, and being empowered by the very women I was afraid of just a year ago, I am traveling directly on the path where fear hides; and by simply making the choice to walk, and not let fear grind me to a halt, I am conquering fear and building faith one day, one decision, one footstep at a time. 

God doesn't expect us not to feel fear, He only asks that we trust Him enough to obey when He speaks. Fear can't reside where Faith reigns!

"For I know the plans I have for you", declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11 [NIV]

Summer Battle Grounds

 
My blog has a familiar cycle of writing, whether in fullness or lack. When days are brimming with laughter and I'm living with a smile on my face because it's reaching outward from my heart, I find myself more apt to write. When seasons are ripe with learning and I'm pressing into God for the treasures buried deep, I find myself more apt to write. But when storms come and the rain falls and thunder rattles the windows of my soul, I tend to turn inward to process, and I'm far less apt to write.

Battles have a way of disarming my words and my desire to hold onto those memories. I live each and every one of those hard moments, after all, and if I was really honest I'd confess my belief that living through them is enough for me. Keeping them forever through the written word never sounds appetizing.

Plus, in the past year I've become determined to absorb the wisdom of choosing correctly between "speak now" and its fraternal twin "forever hold your peace". Speak now seems to come quite naturally, but it's in the holding I find my strongest opponent. So I waffle between writing or not, wondering if I'll look back and wish I had not sounded like such a complainer or see a journey of perspective that leaves me grateful? Choices. It's always about choices.

These past few months have felt like a constant competition between joy and sorrow, faith and doubt, courage and fear, firm foundations and slippery slopes. It's been a Jekyll and Hyde kind of emotional ride for me, and I really have no one to blame except myself. The daily choice is mine, always mine. Look up and fill up and believe in the inherent goodness of God or focus on the circumstances in front of me and listen to their taunting "what if's?". There are days I choose wisely. And there are days I ... do not.

This week has been an uphill struggle for me. Normally the sunshine season represents freedom and playing and lazy days to read for hours and the opportunity to enjoy endless summer days. It's about vacations and lakes and laughter. But with finances already pulled tight and no new freelance jobs on the foreseeable horizon, the weight of lean resources coupled with an abundance of free time does not make for a breezy summertime equation.

My soul is desperate for an escape route--one that will provide time beyond these four walls. I want to tack some memories to a vacation wall in my heart and label it "Summer 2012". But that hope is dim. Money does not solve all problems and is not the key to all happiness, but the reality is that doing and going and experiencing almost always have a price tag tied to them. Not always, but almost always.

I am surrounded by tweets and wall posts of movie and amusement park excursions, season passes to water parks, family dinners to fun restaurants, trips to sandy beaches and airline flights to out-of-state destinations. Family after family is filling their summertime scrapbooks, and if I'm 1000% honest, I'm envious ... heartbroken really. It's not the same brokenness of losing love or a loved-one, but of losing something you love.

While most look to indoor activities when the mercury rises, I bask in the heat. I am a lover of all things sunshine and summertime and the potential this season holds; it's this potential that my heart is losing grip of and mourning more with each passing day. Instead of looking forward to the long hours of daytime, I find myself wondering how we're going to pass them.

September, school and schedules will be here before I know it and my fear is that I'll look back to this season and it will not have been marked with any sort of family getaway, big or small ... not even snapshots of one day on the lake, with memories of adrenaline filled screams and the hysterical laughter that comes with trying to stay on the tube as it flies out past the wake of the boat.

More importantly, I'm longing for a breakthrough in my heart and in my soul; the kind that turns me around in a second and effortlessly abolishes the discouragement that clings to me. I've experienced it often, that powerful touch from my Creator that changes my perspective even when circumstances remain intact, especially in this current season of life. But I'm still waiting and in that waiting I'm left to wonder if breakthrough isn't sometimes just a matter of choice--of turning away from the world and turning towards God? If this silence is not my teacher of discipline through discretion? If breakthrough is not so much a matter of what I see but of how I look, of authority and not affect?

Glorious Awakening

This morning I was up before dawn. Actually, I awoke at 3am after nodding off around 1am, and when by 5am I wasn't back to sleep I finally decided to just get up. Out to the balcony I headed with laptop (and iPhone) in hand. My plan was to read a lot (only read a little) and then to write some (I simply re-edited my blog from yesterday).

The truth is, God captured and held much of my attention by His glorious display. I found myself watching the varying light and color transitions of night into morning, and several times I stood to photograph the stages of daybreak with my camera. I only wish that the camera lens could capture the same colors that my eye saw, but this is nonetheless beautiful.

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.