Empty?

Wrinkled cheeks. Watery eyes. Shaking hands, bony and no longer smooth, worn with time and age. She's called grandma. And she's gone. Or is she?

She's had a mentally debilitating disease for years. She can't remember her children. Her husband is but a memory. She lives every day the same, and yet every day is new to her. A new book to read, new people to meet, new activities. And she's not gone. Right?

Inside her shell, there is a soul. Alive. Present. Crying out to be known. Just as there is in the sleeping babe, the hungry native, the homeless woman. A soul, striving for the knowledge of God. A soul longing to be known.

And every once in a long while, for only a moment, that soul shines through the deceptive shell. One must simply watch enough to see it. Because, she's not empty. She's lived life to the fullest, loving, serving, praying.

So watch. Because she's not empty. Because she's full.

Roller Coaster

Things don't always go the way we expect them to.

For instance, roller coasters twist, and turn, and screech, and fly, and we never expect them to go where they go. That's what makes the ride so fun! We want to be hurled into action, spun in circles, turned upside down. That's the thrill of the adventure.

Life is just like a roller coaster. We get ready. Buckle up. And, before we know it, we're hurled into situations that take our most intense concentration not to scream, vomit, or cry.

Then, when all the loops seem to have passed, we climb the huge hill. We go slower, and slowerr, and slowerrrr, until finally, when all hope seems lost, and further ascent seems impossible, we reach the crest of the hill, and are thrown down the slope, into the valley below. After this, another series of impossible twists and turns, and loops and curls.

Soon, we're all settled in, and ready to ride forever. Either that, or too numbed to protest. That's when we coast to a peaceful stop, and are told that it's time to buy new tickets. I don't know where that fits into the analogy, but that's up to you to decide.

Life's like a roller coaster. Right?

Loved

She was a simple girl. Cheerful, friendly, kind, open. Then, she began to be rebuffed. Smiles were not returned, friendly hugs were accepted coldly, attempts at outreach were squelched. She soon became withdrawn, silent, and sad, rarely ever smiling.

Until one day, we found her. And pursued her. And were persistently friendly. She started coming to Bible studies. Her questions surprised us all. She started to openly desire love. 

The smiles still didn’t come often, but when they graced her face, they shone forth with genuine happiness. Her pain isn’t all healed, but her heart is mending.

Because all she wanted was love, and she got it.

Give it.

Hard

Over the past weeks, I've heard many statements followed by it's so hard. Each time I've heard it, I've thought of a conversation I had with my dad. It was about the difficulty of following God, and the pain of working through a tough situation.

In some context or another, I said, "I know it's good, but it's so hard." He looked at me, thought for a moment, and said, "Yes. Some things that happen in life seem too hard. We daily go against a grinding, never-ending, crushing force that desires to conquer us. It's not easy.

But nothing that's good ever comes easy."

And it's true. Sometimes life is so hard, we want to curl up and die. Sometimes our hearts are torn in two, our spirits crushed, our feelings so brutally wounded they have become numb. Living for God is hard. But it's worth it.

Because, good isn't easy.

Thoughts on Thoughts

It's been a whole month since I've transmitted my brain to paper (or, as you would have it, the screen). Time changes things. It changes feelings, actions, mannerisms. It heals wounds. Broken relationships, hurting friendships, tense interactions.

That's what I was going to write about when I started this blog. However, right now my mind won't cooperate. So instead, my thoughts on thoughts.

We've all heard how fast the human mind processes facts, information, and situations.

I'm sitting here typing, listening to a Christian rapper. My mom is making dinner. My subconscious hears the microwave clank. It goes to Saturday at a service project when Connor cleaned a microwave. I wonder if he'll be playing drums for us on Sunday during worship team. Then, the scent of cooking chicken permeates my hungry mind, and I think about chickens. Sqwaaak, sqwak.

I'm writing the whole time.

I remember I'm waiting for a call from a friend about economics homework, and I'm reminded of several phone conversations I've had in the past few days. I recall best the one which focused entirely on the glory of God. My thoughts on the glory of God— that He chooses to let us represent Him even though we mess up and sin so much is mind boggling and extremely humbling.

That's where my mind has gone in the past few minutes. I hope you had a fun ride.

Tact

The older I get (I’m not very old, which is why I have no shame about declaring I’m getting old), the more I realize how little I know. About life, people, social skills, and tact in specific.

Tact isn’t my gift, or even a strongpoint. If I’m going to say something, I’ll say it. I don’t usually spend a lot of time thinking about what and how to say things. This generally gets me into trouble, and encourages me to fish up a really good apology, and fast.

The dictionary definition of tact is adroitness and sensitivity in dealing with others or with difficult issues. Forget the difficult issues part, and this becomes life. Dealing with others. With sensitivity. Not harming or endangering the feelings of a single human being, ever.

I’m working on my tact. You should work on yours. (Whoops. Sorry.)

Handle

 We can all target perfection. A way that we wish things could be, or that they used to be.

I talked to a girl who wished time could stop, rewind, erase, then fast forward again. Life had taken some twists and turns, and she wanted to start over with a road map.

As I thought about her in her unique situation, I realized something. God gives us each what we can handle, at the rate we can handle it. It wasn’t perfect back then, because I didn’t know what I’ve learned. And as I learn, I become more fully equipped for His service.

I wonder how often I complain about challenge?

Heard

Everyone wants to be heard. This desire lies at the heart of many hurts and insecurities. In a large group, the want becomes greater. I sat, several weeks ago, and listened to a hurting heart pour forth pain. As I tried to understand, I scrambled for something to say. All I could think of was I'm so sorry.

She finished, and looked to me expectantly, and that's all I said. Her eyes filled with tears, and gratitude. I then realized that's all she'd wanted me to say. She wanted someone to listen to her pain, know and understand her. She wanted to be heard.

I tried to listen. Did I hear?

Individual

As I stood in front of dozens of high schoolers this morning, I was reminded of my insignificance. I am only one in a million. At the same time, I was reminded of my individuality. One though I may be, I am one.

In millions, I am the only me. My individuality is mine. And it is good. However, it is not only mine, it is my Maker's. I am to give my individuality to the King who created me, and as I become more like Him, I become more unique.

You are an Individual. Appreciate it.