A Conflicted World

No one ever said life would be easy, in fact, we learn very early on what the real world is like: A place full of conflict. I think back to first grade when the true meaning of conflict arose. There was a sense of urgency there.  Urgency to make friends. To be accepted. To be popular. No one wanted to be the odd man out. No one wanted to be the last person picked. No one wanted to be on the outside. But that was me- always on the outside looking in. Never a part of things called cliques, groups, or clubs. I was always watching. Waiting. Wanting. And then I grew up. We all do. We grow into a world that would love to swallow us whole. A world that strives on conflicts. A world that would rob us of simple joys, rather than granting a life of peace.

In this world, I don't claim to know a lot of things. In fact, I claim to know nothing; only living by what my hearts feels and sees. I see snow covered mountain tops from the aerial view of a plane, and my heart sores with a sense of freedom. I see a glorious sunrise illuminating darkened skies, and my heart feels pangs of hope. I see people's eyes: the windows to their hearts.  I know when pain resides there, I know when joy dances there, and my heart feels the weight of it all. And my heart also knows that when we leave a place we never really leave, because part of our being will always exist there.
   

When I see streams of sunlight filter through turbulent clouds of doubt and futility,  my heart tells me that this world of conflict will never be our home. That our heart fragments are scattered from the events of time, and eventually settle into piles of our life essences- essences that brings us to places of clarity and focus. We grasp onto small things- things that make our lives worth living: a newborn baby's cry, a joy-filled smile of a small child, the first kiss experienced in youth, and the moment you link your heart forever with someone else's. 

Yes, this world may be filled with conflict, but in our heart of hearts we know that we have no ownership of things of this world. We all cling to the belief that as long as we have love, we will never be alone. But love, in this world, is sometimes a fleeting thing and my truest sense of love will always be linked to a greater, spiritual reality. It will always be tied to a thing called hope and faith. Because, after all, that is all we really own while we are here.


Live Large and Be Free!

Brushstrokes of the Heart

They say that hindsight is 20/20. That you can see more clearly when you look back. That you have more understanding and are able to reason through decisions and choices you made. That may be true for most, but for me, when I look back my vision is more nearsighted, than far. Events are fuzzy, unclear. Simply allowing time to pass was not enough for me to gain clarity.  It wasn't until I left or the term I like best, "pushed" outside my life circle that I was able to really "see" how things were.

I believe that when we give ourselves a chance to change our perception, we give ourselves the gift of understanding. Perception is reality.  Perception is a tricky thing that will give truth to what we see and feel. It justifies our actions. It gives us liberty to live our lives as we see fit. The problem with perception is that we can become stuck. We can build up blinders to only see things one way. In the past year, I have learned that my perception of things used to be stagnant. My focus was pinpointed to objects right in front of me. I did not see the whole picture. As I opened my line of vision, I started to "see" things in my former life circle that I was blind to before. A sad face, hurt feelings, loneliness that only one can suffer within the confines of their own heart. I excluded the hard stuff and focused on the things I could change or control.

I may not always understand the landscape of my life. The blurred lines, the sharp contrasts, or the colors that blend into moods and feelings. When I face my life painting and step back, I start to see blurred lines come into focus and I start to understand things that were once obscure.

Time does not heal all wounds, hindsight is not 20/20 for me, but my perspective is always changing.  It is always coming in and out of focus. And as the art of my life changes, I hope my perspective will always change along with it, allowing new information to seep in to help me understand my life work.

Our brushstrokes and our different shades and hues may be different, but I believe that we are all working on our canvases, trying to master the Art of Life. 

I wonder what colors, shapes and images will be in my next painting...

Until then,

Live Large and Be Free!

Bah! Humbug!

Today, as I sweated my butt off to the oldies but goodies, I got to thinking about all the pet peeves in the past week that made me want to rear my ugly head of sarcasm and intolerance. As I looked around my mirror-filled workout room I noticed that some people actually had the audacity to show up with make-up infused faces, fresh blown-out hairdos, and reeking of perfume that wafted through all the sweat and gore. I thought to myself, "What the heck? Are these people serious about working out, or are they seriously trying to impress those of us who show up in our sweats, with our hair scooped up in sloppy ponytails, and the fresh scent of mint toothpaste mixed with baby powder deodorant as our eau de toilette?" And then as I looked around, my attention turned to people on their phones and it made me think about texting and walking. No one ever mentions anything about texting and walking. These people are dangerous, too! They walk like a drunk person, weaving back and forth across your path. You literally have to become a defensive walker in order to avoid a collision with them. And have mercy if you are in a hurry behind one-good luck in maneuvering around them. Speaking of phones, how about those voicemail messages that take forever to retrieve? First you have to listen to the prompt, then you have to listen to that lady (who she is I don't know) tell you how to listen to your messages (for the millionth time) and then you get to listen to the one-sided conversation about why you didn't pick up in the first place and it goes something like this...."Hi, I'm not sure what you are up to or what you are doing? Maybe you're driving or shopping or in the bathroom..."  So by the time you actually hear the real point of the message you might as well have just called the person in the first place and bypassed the whole sordid affair. So as I lamented about lost time with voicemails, I thought about Christmas shopping and the holidays- is it already here?!? Where did time go?? Which led me to think about those blogs about families cancelling Christmas this year because of bratty children. Forget about teaching your child ALL year long to be giving, caring, and compassionate---naw, we'll just save it for the holidays- let's obliterate Christmas. My pet-peeve list goes on and on...from crazy drivers to rude people who pop my personal bubble in checkout lines.

Then, I had to stop myself. What have I become? Why am I being such a negative Nelly? It's Christmas time. Time for love, time for cheer, time for some good ole yule tide! Yet, I see this marquis above my head flashing SCROOGE with an arrow pointing down at me. This can't be. And I started to think. Maybe during this time of year I can find my patient and accepting self, and rather than grouch about petty things I could focus more on the positive side of things. Now, I don't know why it is that when it comes to Christmas everyone contemplates a little bit more.  We try to be a little nicer, a little cheerier, a little more of something extra. And I guess I am one of those people. Whatever the reason for the season is, I know that each year brings potential to do more...to act more...and to think more. 

And as I watch my glamorous work-out partners begin to sweat, I smile a grinchy smile, as I see their mascara begin to run and their hair to deflate.  And I come to the conclusion that we all end up in the same place- messy and tired human beings. But that's okay, because in the end we are all together in this thing called life!

Live Large and Be Free!

You Are What You Wear

You are what you wear...sounds a bit superficial....but I'm not talking designer labels and brands. I'm not talking chic or presumptuous. What I am talking about is how we dress for the day is a compass to where our day will take us. I've heard of an author who worked from home who would dress every day as if she were headed to the office. It made her feel as though she was ready to get down to business. That really spoke to me, because there has been many a day where I have failed to get out of my pajamas--thinking that there was nothing to dress for, no job, nowhere to go, and nothing to do. But I was wrong. I am slowly realizing that whatever I choose to dress in for the day guides me to where I need to go.  If I sport a workout outfit, I know eventually I will choose to go to the gym or for a walk. If I put on my casual clothes, I'm ready for errands. If I dress up, I'm ready for a night out. Whatever the outfit is, it will surely guide my path.

I will never own expensive name brands. I probably will never put more than mascara and lip gloss on for make-up, and I will probably never take more than ten minutes to do my hair. But what I will do is get dressed. I will put on the tennis shoes, or the casual boots, or some heels, because I am choosing not to stay in my pajamas today.

Today, I think I will put on my running shoes...

Live Large and Be Free!






  

Aye! Aye! Captain!

Lying on my back, I squint the bright, blue sky away as I feel calm ripples of water stroking my back. My raft bobs up and down over small waves. The only sound is the water sloshing against the raft. I have no paddle or oars. It is the warm breeze that is guiding me. The direction I'm going? Well, that is up to fate. 

Over a year ago, the scenario was quite different. I think of the first line of Moby Dick, "Call me Ishmael." Funny that it kind of rhymes with Mishel.  "Call me Mishel," now that has a nice ring to it. But unfortunately, it's not the sound of our names that are similar. No, not at all. It was the purpose and lengths we would go to - to achieve our goals - to the detriment of everyone around us. Back then, my transport of choice was a high-powered speedboat. I drove that thing into the direction I saw was my destiny, oftentimes ignoring those who were most important to me and blinding myself with ambition. 

Somewhere along the way, I chose to lose myself in a job that I thought was a higher calling. In the name of all that was good, I took it to a level where I no longer knew which way I was driving my boat. How easy it was to immerse myself and then eventually lose myself. Had I'd known about the destruction, deceit, and loneliness that awaited me on that path, I would have flipped a U-ey and all you would have seen was a huge water wake behind me.

Lately I have been floating along on my raft. Sometimes looking up to see if there is land in the horizon and noticing that my supplies are running low. But after commandeering a super fast, speed boat, it was nice to just sit back and let go of the wheel. Unfortunately, I can't float along forever. At some point, I have to make the decision to paddle or face being lost at sea. 

This time around, I pray that God will give me a nice, little, electric motorboat.

 


Live Large and Be Free!

The Invisible Brake

This weekend I agreed to do the unthinkable.  The dangerous!  The daring!  I decided to let my 15 year-old daughter drive me around while I was in town.  The harrowing speeds, the lane changes that did not include a full turn of the neck to see if another car was coming, and the missed stop sign where I saw my life flash before my eyes, all confirmed that indeed I would have a stroke or a heart attack by the end of my time with her.  But like all good parents, I wanted my daughter to gain experience and confidence in her driving skills.  I wanted to be her co-pilot as I taught and she learned from her mistakes.  Never in my life did I feel so completely out of control in a situation that seems to call for all control.  I can still hear her say, "MOM.  I know you are pushing the invisible brake, I can see your leg and foot!" And, "Mom, quit telling me to slow down (my mantra throughout our excursions) I know what I am doing and I am not going to hit the car in front of me!"  Her exhortations had me stop dead in my tracks and realize that She's Got This! And little by little I let go.  Not completely, mind you, every once in a while my leg would jerk with a small spasm!

I know that I have always gone through life with an invisible brake. Wanting to help my children avoid mistakes, stopping myself from making my own mistakes, and helping friends and family, as well.  My invisible brake gives me a sense of control when I feel that I have none. There is a false power there that tricks my mind into believing it actually works! But like the car, an invisible brake is futile. Whatever is going to happen will happen, and no amount of stomping or pushing on it will stop the car. Life moves forward, everyone makes mistakes, and we either accept, deny, or learn from them.

I am learning to let go of my invisible brake and to give it to Someone who does have power in it, if I let Him. I know that I will always want to fiercely protect what is mine, but I also know that life happens. My knee jerk reaction to push the brake will always be there, but I can let go of the feeling that it's all up to me if it works out or not. God has allowed me that freedom.  


Live Large and Be Free!

Sit Dog Sit

Oh the simple life of a dog! Eat, run, play, eat some more...So easy and yet so profound.

How many times have our "best friends" revealed to us simple life lessons?

It cracks me up when I look to my "best friend" and realize that she is living the life she is meant to live; taking each new day as it comes and forever excited to just be alive.

There are three wonderful rules that I have learned from my "best friend."

Rule #1:

Persistence Pays Off!

No matter how many times we have said, "No!" to Lady to jumping on the couch or the bed, this dog will stop at nothing to get her way. From being sneaky, with one paw at a time, she will creep, crawl, and nonchalantly ease her way up onto whatever we are sitting on. And no matter how many times we push her off, she tries, tries, and tries again, until she knows that she has completely worn us down and eventually we relent. In her eyes, "Success!"

Lady's persistence has taught me that even though people may push you away, sometimes they need you to keep trying. We sometimes need that loyal friend or life partner to keep pushing until we open up and let them in, because in the spoils comes a deeper and closer relationship. 



Rule #2:

Everyday is a new start full of enthusiasm!

Dogs wake up everyday with a blank slate. No matter what happened the day before or even the night before, they wake up with tails wagging and with eyes that seem to say,"What are we doing today? A walk? The park? Anything?!"

How many of us look at each day as a new beginning? A new challenge? Sometimes all our humanness gets in the way and we put up roadblocks that prevent us from living each day to its full potential. I know we all have bad days, but we don't have to carry them over. We can choose to let go and start again. Making each day better than the day before. The opportunities are endless!

Rule #3:

An old dog can be taught new tricks.

Dogs are forever mold-able and trainable. They are so eager to please and to learn. Even the oldest of dogs can be taught new commands if the owner has enough patience and time to invest in them.

In life, I hope that I am always mold-able and trainable. I hope I never stop learning and being eager to learn. We sometimes think that we can't take the next step in searching for a new job or to learn new computer programs or some advanced technology. The day I become stagnant and resistant to change is the day I hope my end has come. We don't have to be creatures of habit. We can break into new opportunities and learn new "commands" just as easily, if we just take the time to invest in ourselves.

A dog's life is simple. Maybe its time we learn from their simplicity and start to live life to the fullest.




Live Large and Be Free!

The Long Road Home is but Around the Corner

What is home?  Where is home?  Is it a building with four walls?  Is it a geographic location that you know well?  You know the streets like the back of your hand? Do the memories lurk on every corner and places you've been to, experiences you've lived?  What happens when you leave? Does it mean that you no longer have a home?

Sitting in my new "home" I think about my old "home" often.  The familiar people, the familiar places: the just plain familiar.  My heart is attached to it. My heart yearns for it. And yet it was the familiar that pushed me away. The familiar hurts, the familiar pain. I know that life is comprised of many decisions; decisions to stay and decisions to go. Decisions when we see a fork in the road and we ultimately decide which path we will take. Our heart compass takes over, and we go.

As I breathe in this warm Texas air, I remember how just a short while ago I was breathing in the cool Pacific Northwest air.  What a contrast!  And yet, I am now calling this home. I am faced with the reality that new memories have to be made. New familiarities will eventually be born. But something else also hits me: the realization that in my heart of hearts, I know exactly where home is.  Home for me will always be my loved ones. They will always be the ones who guide my heart compass. Home is not location.  It is not a building filled with material things. Home is where my children's hearts are. It is where true love and understanding exists. It is uncompromising and unconditional. It is the fuel that keeps my heartblood pumping.  

As long as I have that...I will always be home.



Live Large and Be Free!

The Queen of the Yo-Yo

Today I woke up with all the normal excuses that run through my head. Excuses for not putting one foot in front of the other to hit the pavement or go to the gym. I have a plethora of them: 

Today I will skip my work out because (circle one please):

a. I went to bed late and I'm tired
b. I plan to eat very healthy today
c. I will go later this afternoon (ha!)
d. none of the above 
e. all of the above

How many times have I put myself into denial mode about the weight that is slowly creeping to my thighs, gut, and (gasp) my chin!! I am the Queen of Dieting and the Queen of Exercising.  I am perhaps the most food motivated person you will ever meet. I will go anywhere, attend anything, as long as food is involved. Food gives me that satiated feeling of contentedness. And yet, exercise does that for me, too!  What a stark contradiction.  I can be food addicted on one hand, and then exercise addicted on the other.  I can go from running a few blocks a day to training for a full marathon in 3 months time. I can go from religiously counting calories everyday, to binging on the restaurant franchises around me. Yes, my yo-yo life has always been very present and real.

Today I decided to circle (d.) none of the above. Today I decided to put one foot in front of the other and haul my 30+ lb overweight body to the gym. Although the workout was not pretty (and why is it that these exercise rooms have mirrors on all four sides???), I huffed and puffed my way through; thinking all the while how could I let myself go? But, as I started to feel my heartbeat go up and beads of sweat dripping off my face, I felt the surge of the upswing of my yo-yo. My pendulum was swinging back. Of course my instructor was just a sprite of a woman: bubbly and exploding with energy. But somehow that energy transferred to me. Her hi-fives and shouts of encouragement fueled me. And I realized what it was that I was missing:  Encouragement. I had it for years with my running mates and groups. I had it when I was in the throes of recruiting new runners. I had it for years with hiking buddies. And now I am in new territory. Texas territory . Alone territory. I came to the realization that to find encouragement I needed to actively seek it. It was not going to find me.

I will probably always swing back and forth on my yo-yo ride, going up and then down (with weight), but I know that everyday is brand new. Every morning when I rise, I have the opportunity to succumb to my excuses or battle them and win. Today I choose to win.

But encourage each other daily, while it is still called Today, so that none of you is hardened by sin’s deception. Hebrews 3:13


Live Large and Be Free!

A Pack of Gum

Oh the woes in the quest for gainful employment.  It seems as though those first few days are sparkly and bright with optimism.  First, you only apply to those jobs that are lucrative and almost a dream-come-true type opportunity.  All other listings seem boring and not worthy of your time to apply.  Then as the weary days come and go, self-introspection begins.  Is it my resume?  Is it my cover letter?  Maybe I forgot to dot the "i's" or cross the "t's."  Soon the less than appealing jobs seem more and more appealing.  Sure, I will work part-time!  Sure, I will work weekends!  You want to pay me an impoverish wage? Sure, I will work for pennies! Everything and anything becomes more and more appealing.  And all was appealing until the moment I hit a government advertisement for what seemed like a great opportunity.  Working for the police department.  As I read the details a horrible sentence popped out at me and my heart skipped a beat, "All applicants will have to go under a polygraph test."  WTF? A polygraph test? Immediately my mind went to OMG, I wonder what the questions are?  As my thoughts raced, I pictured the interview going as follows:

Polygrapher:  Have you ever cheated on anything?
Me:  Define cheating?  Because I have cheated on my diet, I have cheated myself out of opportunities.  Um, how far back does this question go?  High school?  

Polygrapher: Have you ever done anything illicit?
Me:  (Heart is racing, beads of sweat are building on my forehead)  Define illicit?  Behaviors? Um, I think I have.  That doesn't ruin my chances does it?

Polygrapher:  Ma'am have you ever broken the law?
Me:  Oh crap (sweat is rolling off my forehead now) um, ya. You don't need details, do you?

Polygrapher:  Have you ever stolen anything?
Me: Crap, yes, when I was seven I stole a pack of Bubblicious Bubble Gum, strawberry flavor if you wanted to know! (Which my mother's eagle eye caught me and made me go back inside the store and give it back to the scary cashier man)

Polygapher:  Have you ever been convicted of a crime?
Me:  Thank God, NO!  (A little sigh of relief escapes)

And so on and on the questions go.  Delving into my inconspicuous past. Making me dredge up all my wrong-doings.  All my faults.  Geez, this job doesn't seem as appealing anymore! Then I had to sit back, take a deep breath and let it out. And then something happened.

A peace came over me. 

Yes, I do have a past.  Some of it good, some of it bad.  But if it were not for the past, I would not be who I am today.  No, I am not perfect today.  But I have also learned from my past and take those teachings into my future. And a smile came across my lips, because when I think about God being a polygrapher, I don't have to sweat and my heart doesn't have to race, because He already knows the answer to every one of those questions.  And He is still here with me.  





Live Large and Be Free!

Blurred Lines

Once upon a time in a land far, far way....no just kidding, this is not a fairy tale. What I meant to say is that a long time ago we lived on some land and it did seem far away. Being a mom taxi over the years has given me a unique perspective on the road of life.  When my kids were growing up we lived in a town about 20-30 minutes away from their school.  As you can imagine a lot happened in that car of mine. Voices in the back could range in decibel from nice human tones to all out animal shouting matches in which I thought someone was going to be thrown from the car. 

Our day would start with me (to my children's dismay, in my pajamas with morning, wild hair) rushing out the door to get them strapped in and headed for school.  Most mornings it would be a quiet ride, since no kid is ever fully awake that early. It was nice. I could zone out to a morning talk show or listen to music. All of us, headed to school in a sleep-like trance. It was surreal! But at the end of the day, the part where kids are completely worn out from school and on the brink of starvation, and their emotional bubble ready to burst-- was when their lines were drawn. You remember those lines?  In the backseat with your sibling? That imaginary line that was always abused or violated by one party.  That fine line that if crossed would warrant a smack, a kick, or a verbal lashing. Most of the time the line was crossed purposefully, a little voice on their shoulder saying, "C'mon! They aren't the boss of you! Why shouldn't you cross it?" And sometimes, it was done by accident because you forgot the rule. But for whatever the reason the line was crossed, the consequences could be brutal!

How many invisible lines have we drawn for ourselves? With our partners, our children, or with strangers? We all know how we want to be treated and sometimes these expectations are implicitly or explicitly communicated. Sometimes it is so easy with children to draw lines. They are mold-able, flexible, and willing. They learn early on where mommy draws her line. (This excludes the teenage years where everything you've taught goes out the window and hormones dictate what lines they will cross!) But for adults and relationships, how do we clearly communicate those lines? Let's be honest, when our line is crossed we feel violated and unheard- even hurt. We become the child in the backseat crying out that someone has crossed over!

I think we are all guilty of crossing lines. Intentionally and unintentionally. We are human.  We still have that little boy or girl inside of us wanting our way, setting up imaginary boundaries with the no trespassing sign. Yet, as adults, if someone crosses over we are not allowed tantrums- unless of course you want to be viewed as crazy.  We, as adults, must learn to communicate to others, our lines. I know for me I still have a hard time communicating my imaginary line.  It's sometimes hard to find my voice and say no to more work projects, or to communicate to someone that they've crossed my line and now I am hurt.

I've crossed your line, you've crossed my line. It happens to all of us. But for me, it is nice to know that there is One who never crosses the line.  There is One who respects all lines, imaginary or real. He clearly sees them.  He is near when I want Him to be, and steps back when I need Him to. Most of the time, it is in His silence where I love Him the most, because He accepts and respects my blurred lines.




Live Large and Be Free!

Pick Me! Pick Me!

Oh the haunting memories of the playground battlefield. I remember it like yesterday. Teams are ordered to form and team captains take on the task of choosing the very best athletes to ensure a win. I was never the last one to be chosen...but I was never the first or second or even fifth. Those playground moments where my heart would beat like a drum in my chest and ears, my throat tightening, and holding back tears with every blink of my eyes; standing there hoping and praying I wouldn't be chosen last, oh yes those moments. Inside my head I would chant the mantra, "please pick me, please pick me!"

In all fairness, I was the girlie girl on the playground. If a ball flew my way, I was ducking and taking cover in order to save severe damage to my face, because inevitably I would miss. I was the girl you didn't want on your team because if I got hurt I cried. Sure, I tried many sports over the years, only to fail. I tried to put on a brave face and tell myself don't be a wimp- you can do this!  But too many mental scars prevented me from ever succeeding...until...I put on my first pair of running shoes.

Running, to me, meant no flying balls, no waiting to be picked, and no accountability to a team. Running meant that I chose when and where I ran, I chose how fast or slow the pace, and I chose myself to get up, open the door, and step outside. Years of pavement therapy lay behind me. Miles and miles of a faint, grey haze, a road mixed with memories, floating like ashes on a breeze-- swirling and twirling in the confines of my mind. Moments where I ran for my kids and their problems. Moments where I ran for my own problems. Moments where there was joy and satisfaction in my life. Moments where I didn't think I could get out of bed and face another day. All moments- good and bad. I hold on to that road behind me, although it fades in the distance.  I hold on to the realization that even though things were, and still are, out of my control- running returns it back to me. I control the direction I run. I pick me to get up and face that pavement and the dawning of a new day.



"By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward - to Jesus.  I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back." Philippians 3:13,14








There are many of those who have motivated me and encouraged me to run.  

That is one gift I will forever be grateful for.




Live Large and Be Free!

Seconds, please!

Isn't it wonderful when someone asks, "Would you like seconds?"  Even if you are full, being asked gives you the option to go in for more or to sit back, loosen your belt, and relax. Seconds can also refer to time.  Isn't it wonderful when hours have turned to minutes and minutes have turned to seconds? What about second chances?  I believe everyone has had in some point in their lives a second chance.  I know that I have had my fair share.  Second chances gives joy to the recipient and the giver.  It is a symbiotic relationship in which both parties equally share in the gift.  

Lady our Rescue Dog

Recently, we rescued a dog from the pound.  She was found roaming the streets, starving with ribs and hip bones poking out, and covered in fleas.  Was it love at first sight for me?  No.  In fact, she wasn't my type of dog at all.  I had in my head the breed I wanted and I wasn't going to stray from that.  But Lady, that is the name we gave her, wiggled her way into my heart with her kind eyes and loving personality.  Lady now lives in what I call "Dog Heaven" with an abundance of toys, a cozy doggie bed, and a fat belly. Lady was given a second chance.



When I think back on my life and all the second chances I have received I would say that I was very spoiled.  Spoiled with the assumption that I could get away with everything and still be given a second chance.  Shame on me.  There were so many times when I did not deserve a second chance but was given one anyway.  There are times when I should have been the giver of a second chance but chose not to because of a hardened heart.  

Stubborn pride can oftentimes close our minds to giving others that second chance.  We are all so very human. As I sit and think about second chances my mind keeps going to the story of Jesus and Peter.  How many chances did Jesus give Peter?  The story ends with Peter denying Jesus, but Jesus never denying Peter.  Second chances is not a human trait.  God is the ultimate second chance giver with no limitations. God gives everyone, regardless of their past or present, a second chance with the gift of a new day. A day that is filled with so much potential and opportunities.

Today, I gratefully accept my gift.  Today is my Second Chance.



Live Large and Be Free!

I am not a Christian

I am not a Christian.  What does this statement mean?  First thought you must have is, "She's atheist!!!"  Wrong.  I am not an atheist.  In fact, I am a true believer in Jesus and His second coming. The dictionary defines Christian as of pertaining to, or belonging to the religion based on the teachings of Jesus Christ. This is where I draw the line in the same sand where the poem "Footprints" was based.  The walk I have with God is beautifully mine.  I don't have to belong to a religion to walk that walk.

Once upon a time, the Queen Diva in me wanted acceptance, love, and the bright spotlight of success shining on my religious ways. From fervently volunteering to ultimately taking a job within the church, I sought every conceivable way to be validated as a good...wait...I mean...GREAT , SUPERB, AWESOME Christian!  Let me show you how I can dress up my kids to reflect the great mother I am, let me do a drive by with my mom taxi so you can see that I am the best carpooler ever,  let me show you how perfectly matched my marriage was in order to show other young couples what they could aspire to; and to show the patriarchs that yes, we are making it work! And finally, let me say Yes! to every volunteer request to show how through my works I am one great, big, ball of awesomeness!  Christian awesomeness.  Is there no other higher calling? After all, are we not supposed to walk the walk and talk the talk?

The problem with that life, I found out, is that I was talking the talk, but not walking the walk. My sinful pride, my sinful ways, and in my selfishness, I chose not to be real with myself or with God.  And I don't mean airing out dirty laundry...because who wants to smell that?! What I mean is that my duplicity of life took away pieces of a beautiful relationship with Christ. At church and work I had it down pat.  I was supermom, super worker, and super churchgoer.  At home?  I struggled with addiction, self-image, and self-worth.  The Queen Diva of Destruction led me on a path where the last place I could go was the church.  

The duplicity I saw in my own life, I saw in church life. How many times have I communed with Pillars of the Church, the exemplary people who are involved in everything- deaconesses, Sabbath school teachers, elders, and so on and so forth that are so good at hiding their sins that none are the wiser.  I've had friends who in one night would drink in their closet to hide their own addiction from their kids and then show up the next day preaching to the youth to stay away from sinful things.  I had friends who would in the name of "concern" pray for my sins as a form of gossip- never praying with me- only about me.  I have had friends who disappeared when, pardon me, the $*@# hit the fan.  No, going to the church for help was not an option.  

Living in a little (church) box led me to where I am today.  I allowed my church box to confine, cramp, and even suffocate me.  I allowed my idealistic view of the community of church to distort the truth, which ultimately hurt and broke me. But not all churches are like this you say. Maybe your church is different.  I doubt it.  We are all human.  We all want to see other people's problems on display so that ours look infinitesimal in comparison.  How many times have you looked to your spouse or partner and said, "I know we have our own problems, but I'm so glad we don't have their problems!"  Or when a teen goes astray and we utter, "Oh my! I wonder what went wrong in their family?  Must be the parents."   And , finally, my favorite church phrase, "Did you hear about so and so? Did you also hear what they did? Let's pray for them!" Whatever the catch phrases are- they are all universal. They can be heard anywhere, any time.

Today I have decided that part of Livin Large is to let go of my little church box of hurt and focus on the ultimate good phrase:  What Would Jesus Do?

This universal phrase gives hope to my cynical heart.  It keeps my faith in check.  It points me to God and not the church.  It is a box with no walls, no locks, and no rules.  It is a box that holds Jesus' promise that He will love us forever and never let go. It is the only box I want to live in.

No, I am not a Christian; I am a broken and sinful follower of Christ.

Live Large and Live Free!

Life is like an airplane ride

Life is an airplane ride?  What a cliche!  You must have thought I meant it's an adventure to new places, right?  Wrong.  What I meant is that life is like sitting in an airplane seat.  Although you are ready to travel to new and/or old places you find yourself stuck in a tiny seat, bumping elbows with strangers, and watching the slow hands of a ticking clock- are we there yet?  As I sit in my confining section, I lament to myself, I deserve first class, sipping mimosas, utilizing a hot towel to refresh me, and stewards at my beck and call. But lo, I am here in 3rd, 5th, or whatever class-less section, eagerly awaiting my free water and suffering the jerks and spasms of the food tray behind me. 

Isn't this how it's always been?  Bumping elbows, hurrying up to wait, and wishing for more?  For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted more.  I am the Queen Diva for wanting more.  I think it started back in first grade when my sole purpose in life was to make my wonderful, beautiful teacher love me and notice me.  I don't believe the want has ever stopped.  Selfish you say?  Well of course I am!  Who isn't?  I don't think I am the inventor of the concept for wanting more.  I am just more persistent in it.  

As the persistence grows I feel my small, little space shrinking.  My airplane seat is soon to eject me.

Confessions of Livin Large is where I am in life.  I am ready to be brutally honest.  Shamelessly wordy.  And wonderfully free.

I can't wait to see what my wacky brain will tell my willing fingers to type.

Until then...Live Large and Be Free!