Kamikaze Cardinal

When it began, it was somewhat comical.  As it continued, it was a bit concerning.  At this point, it’s just irritating.

You see, a few days ago, a female cardinal began attacking our kitchen window.  At first, we chalked it up to having such pristine windows that the bird simply couldn’t see the barrier in an attempt to investigate our home.  But it happened repeatedly.  She would perch on a tree branch near the window before flying at it and hitting her beak on the glass.  I began to feel sorry for the bird and wondered what might be causing her actions, so I looked to the Internet for answers.  I was relieved to find that we were not, in fact, dealing with a Kamikaze cardinal.  Apparently various species of territorial birds become even more defensive of their turf during brooding season.  This soon-to-be momma bird doesn’t recognize that the bird she sees in the window is merely her own reflection.  Seeing it as a potential threat to her nest and eggs, she attacks.  And attacks.  And attacks.  According to what I read, you can attempt to cover the outside of the window so as to keep her from seeing her reflection, although one’s efforts might be in vain.  The bird may go in search of its nefarious nemesis and with all probability will find it at another window of your home.  Apparently this behavior can be expected to continue for the duration of spring!

As a mother, however, I can relate to this bird’s desire to defend her young, so I endure and somewhat admire her diligent efforts.  Yet I began to think… How sad it would be if, because of this bird’s diverted attention to a threat that is only perceived, an actual enemy came in from behind and brought devastation to that which she so valiantly seeks to protect.

I would like to think I have more than a “bird brain”- that I can tell the difference between a reflection and the real deal.  That being said, I have to wonder how many of the battles I engage in are necessary and how many of them are a diversionary tactic.  How often does Satan throw out a decoy to divert my focus and then creep in through the back door?  I can see in hindsight that this has occurred more times than I care to admit.  Sadly enough, I’ve been guilty of “friendly fire.”  In earnest sincerity, I’ve been sincerely wrong.  I’ve viewed other friends of Jesus’ as competition; I’ve focused on our differences of opinion with regard to doctrine or theology or something of the sort rather than our commonality as the bride of Christ.  When this happens- when the Church tears at itself from the inside- the consequences are much more far reaching than we realize; and the enemy scores.

Diversionary tactics come in other forms as well.  Focus is defined as “a point upon which attention, activity, etc., is directed or concentrated”.  What we focus on gains our attention, our efforts, and our energy.  The enemy shrewdly tempts us to avert our eyes from Jesus in order to focus on something else.  Sometimes it’s how I’m feeling.  For some, it may be the temptation to succumb to negativity.  For others, the trap may be using the knowledge we have that emotions stem from something and trying to figure out what’s going on apart from the Holy Spirit’s guidance in such matters.  Sometimes it may be what has some bit of legitimacy to it, such as a dream or desire.  Scripture is very clear that God does indeed plant dream seeds and desires in our hearts.  Indeed, I’m convinced that part of loving God and seeking after him with our whole hearts is allowing ourselves to discover and pursue those things within us that God put there for us to do and become.  The thing is, in order for this to work out according to God’s perfect plan, it must be done within the context of a life focused on Jesus.  You see, the object of our focus becomes magnified.  When our eyes are fixed on Jesus, our dreams, our desires, our disappointments- everything- is seen through the lens of heaven, and we attain proper perspective.  When our focus is diverted, then God becomes smaller to us, and our true selves retreat just a bit.

I’m impressed with the perseverance and tenacity of this cardinal who has taken up residence in my backyard.  I’m more impressed at how the Holy Spirit can use even the irritating pecking of a bird on a window to cause me to reflect on truth.

One Size Fits All?!

I’ve written about this before, but it’s been on the forefront of my mind recently, and so I’m writing about it again.  I’ve been thinking about the biblical account of a young shepherd who slew a terrifying adversary.  For many, the story of David and Goliath calls forth memories of flannel graph storyboards in a Sunday school room and would-be slingshots created from felt and yarn.  It might also bring to mind phraseology wrought from the story over the years, such as “Face your giants.”  But I’ve been thinking about David’s fashion statement.

Then Saul outfitted David as a soldier in armor. He put his bronze helmet on his head and belted his sword on him over the armor. David tried to walk but he could hardly budge.

    David told Saul, "I can't even move with all this stuff on me. I'm not used to this." And he took it all off.

1 Samuel 17:38-39

David realized that what served Saul in battle was only going to trip him up.  Though Saul had the best of intentions, he was heaping onto David things that were ill-fitting and too heavy, and they immobilized David.  For David to move forward into his destiny, he had to be David.  One size, when it came to battle attire, did not fit all.

Neither does one size fit all when it comes to our moving forward into our destinies.  One aspect of our destinies that every other aspect spills out of is how we relate with God- not to him, but with him.  Perhaps the distinction is only in my own mind; yet it seems to make such an important, albeit subtle, difference.  It’s the difference between merely having reference of something or someone versus growing a relationship.  In any case, it is an ever-growing, intimate friendship with God that propels us into our true selves; it is the catalyst for our “becoming.”  Herein often lies the problem that many of us have dealt with in one form or another.  How often we miss the nuances of his gentle persuasion, his wooing of our hearts, his invitation to dance with him in a wide, open space because we’ve succumbed to One Size Fits All Christianity.  So many times, with the best of intentions, one or another of us as followers of Christ- individually or corporately- will attempt to be “helpful.”  We’ll take what has helped us in the past, but rather than offering it as something to try, we use it as a formula or rule, and we unintentionally heap heavy burdens onto others.  This tends to stunt that blossoming romance of the heart because there so often comes a paralysis of the soul as we (yes, I’m putting “we” onto both sides of the field because I would imagine that all of us have been on the giving as well as receiving sides at one point or another) try to move with “stuff” on us that we’re not used to.  The enemy is all too willing to point out that our helmet isn’t placed appropriately, or we’re not holding our shield just the right way.  We’re messing up, we’re failing, and how can we ever hope to have the kind of relationship with God and walk in freedom and joy with such a sense of destiny as so-and-so.

One size does NOT fit all.  I’m not speaking of the absolutes of wrong and right, nor of those things that all Christians have in common that are unchangeable and concrete.  I’m speaking about our own personal journeys of becoming.  God is a God of creativity and variety, and his relationship with you will look like his relationship with no one else’s.  I read a book recently wherein the author noted that “C.S. Lewis had once surmised that each person is created to see a different facet of God’s beauty- something that no one else can see in quite the same way- and then to bless all worshipers through all eternity with an aspect of God they could not otherwise see.”

There are beautiful robes with which God wants to adorn all his children, and they’re tailor-made; hand-crafted by a Father who loves each of his children with such incredible passion, that he elaborates on your attire as he does no one else’s.  You’re his favorite, you know!  And so am I.

So Father, here am I, your favorite daughter, and I thank you for each of these, my brothers and sisters, who likewise are your favorites.  For those who have for far too long now attempted to wear hand-me-downs or to don borrowed garments that were really meant for someone else, I ask you to wrap them up in your arms, first and foremost.  I ask you to give them a heavenly mirror, and as they gaze at their reflection, may they see only the person you see when you look at them- someone in whom you delight and find great joy; someone with whom you’re pleased; someone who is the apple of your eye.  May they then recognize the beauty and majesty of how you intend to outfit them.  To paraphrase a book title, Daddy God, my brothers and sisters were created originals; may they not be content to die as copies.

I love you, Jesus.

Did Anyone See That?!

Amazing the lessons we can learn from the Holy Spirit when we’re simply going around minding our own business- which was exactly what I was doing last week during an evening outing with my family.  We were going out to eat, and as we were walking into the restaurant, it happened.  I’m still not convinced that the ground didn’t shift beneath my feet, or that the sidewalk in front of me didn’t suddenly, without notice, spring up two feet.  Whatever the occurrence, it resulted in me taking a nosedive.  It was one of those happenstances wherein you know exactly what’s about to take place, yet there’s nothing you can do about it.  I knew I was going down, and all I could do was go with it.  As far as falls go, it wasn’t all that bad.  I scraped and bruised my hand a bit, and my right thigh was a little sore from landing on it, but nothing broken, fractured, or dislocated.  Not even any bleeding.  One would think that, after assessing any bodily harm and finding myself relatively free of any, I would have jumped up with a grateful sigh of relief; for, to be sure, on my quick trip to the ground, I was thinking, “Oh, man, I’m too old and too out of shape to be falling!  I sure hope I don’t break a hip!”  My reaction, however, was… different.  Once I hit the ground and realized I was okay, I immediately tuned out the concerned voices of my husband and son, rolled onto my back, lay out straight, and closed my eyes shut tightly.  The logic behind this was the same as it is for little children who believe you can’t see them if they can’t see you.  You see, I was mortified.  Incredibly embarrassed.  It didn’t help matters at all that my other son- the one whose voice I couldn’t tune out- was laughing and saying, “Wasn’t that kinda funny?”  [To his defense, he’s a little boy, and looking back at the situation, I imagine it probably was a bit comical to watch.]

            As I was lying on my back, hot tears of humiliation beginning to run down my cheeks, my husband’s voice broke through the mental wall of invisibility I had hoped to create.  He was kneeling by my side, holding out his hand to me, asking me if I was alright, and preparing to help me to my feet.  For a few moments, I refused his offer of help.  I wanted everyone to go away; I wanted to determine what damage control needed to be done by anyone who might have witnessed my ambulation faux pas so that I could possibly pretend like nothing had happened.  It occurred to me, however, that I could not lay on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant indefinitely.  I pushed aside my childish musings, took my husband’s hand, accepted the hug he gave me, and after assuring my family that I was okay, proceeded to enjoy my evening out.

            I was thinking about this incident in light of my walk with Jesus.  I was reminded that the writer of Hebrews admonishes us to “strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up.”  I’ve not always remembered to do that, and there have been times I’ve found myself scraping my spiritual knees or stubbing my spiritual toes, and there have been times when I’ve simply fallen flat on my spiritual face!  I recall a time several years ago when I was doing all I could in my own might to throw off weights and sin and run the race set before me with endurance.  Yet it seemed that, for all my effort, my impediments seemed all the greater.  I was figuratively at a point where I rolled over on my back, closed my eyes shut tightly, and determined that I would lay there until I could muster the grace and fortitude to get back to it.  I remember the Holy Spirit showing me a picture of myself walking down a dirt road with Jesus.  Having grown up with a dirt and gravel road running in front of my home, I was quite familiar with the ruts and potholes that are common on streets of this type, so when I saw these along the road in my vision, I knew exactly what they were.  I saw myself intently focused on these ankle-breaking holes, determined to walk around them, to avoid them.  Try as I might, I’d no sooner sidestep a rut before I tripped over a pothole.  I’d get back up, try again, and continue stumbling.  And where was Jesus during all of this?  He was- wait, where’d he go?  Why’d he stop back there?  Is he smelling a ROSE?!  To shorten the story a bit:  The Holy Spirit showed me that I was working really hard at making progress, doing my best to do what was right; yet I was focused on the wrong thing.  Life wasn’t simply about arriving at the finish line.  It was about living!  And there were things along this path that Jesus wanted me to experience with him; things that God had hidden for me to find and to take great delight and joy in; fulfillment to be found; discoveries to be made… and all of this was supposed to occur within the context of relationship with Christ.  Therefore, my focus should be on him alone.

            So back to falling… My thoughts on the subject…  I’m in the “already but not yet” phase of my journey with Christ.  I’ve already been reconciled to God and made whole in his sight, but I’m not yet to a place where I perfectly walk that out.  So it’s not a matter of if I fall, but when I fall- what do I do?  I believe it’s simple:  I must get back up.

            In the story Gulliver’s Travels, Lemuel Gulliver finds himself shipwrecked on the island of Lilliput and wakes to find that he has been bound by the Lilliputians, a race of tiny people.  They appear to be savage and relentless in their efforts as captors, yet all Gulliver need do is stand, and the Lilliputians will be scattered, their ropes useless in keeping him down.  When we walk in the power of the Holy Spirit and with the authority of Christ, the enemy has as little power to keep us down as the Lilliputians had to keep Gulliver down.  [Note:  I’ve not read the entire book of Gulliver’s Travels, so if by some chance the Lilliputians do succeed in holding Gulliver captive, forgive my ignorance; the point is simply that, in the life of a follower of Christ, Satan has only the power we allow him.]  However, the enemy doesn’t want us to get back up.  He’d prefer to keep us down and bring an end to our forward motion.  He’ll use the fear of exposure to cause us to want to remain hidden on the ground.  “I hope no one saw me!  What if they did see me?  Maybe if I just stay here awhile, I can sneak back up.”  He’ll whisper words of condemnation.  “How foolish was that!  Can you even believe you did such a stupid thing?”  All the while, Jesus is kneeling beside us, hand extended, telling us, “It’s okay.  Let me help you up.  Let me brush the dirt from you.  Let me hold you.”

Jesus, may I and anyone else with whom these words ring true have increased capacity to tune our hearts and minds to the gentle voice of love that beckons us to rise and walk; that speaks words of encouragement and edification and life; and may we become more capable of discerning from where come our thoughts.  May we rise up and stand boldly and make declaration to the enemy:  “You shall NOT succeed!”

Remember When...

I sure do love my husband.  I’m convinced he’s the best man ever!  This morning he demonstrated his love by allowing me the indulgent pleasure of sleeping in.  It was blissful!  Sometimes he demonstrates his love by waking me early in the morning so we can enjoy coffee and conversation before the kids awaken and before he leaves for work.  Those are really special moments, too.  Every once in awhile, perhaps for a birthday gift or when he recognizes I could really benefit from it, he surprises me with a “Mom Retreat”- a night away by myself in the luxury of a hotel to spend time with Jesus and rest and relax.  He’s a wonderful husband, and how I’ve loved sharing my life with him these past fourteen years.

It was fourteen years ago next month that we went on our first date.  Ours was a whirlwind romance, and he most definitely swept me off my feet.  When I think back to those early days we shared together, I’m reminded of what a romantic my husband can be.  Early on in our relationship, he had the opportunity to travel to Israel.  He was to be gone for ten days, and prior to his departure, he purchased ten cards, wrote something special in each of them, dated them, and left them with the church secretary with instruction to deliver one to me each day he was gone.  There were also flowers and candy and picnics and long walks and thoughtful gifts, as well as many other love notes and special cards and fun dates.  I was romanced well, and Cory always made me feel like a queen.

Time has passed.  Days have passed into years.  The circumstances of our lives are obviously different now than when we first began dating.  Late night walks through the park don’t sound nearly as appealing as perhaps turning in early because it’s been a day of working and raising children and cleaning house, and our bodies need the recuperation that occurs from a good night’s sleep.  Romance has taken on a different look.  At times it’s tempting to look back on those yesterdays with the glitter and accoutrement of young love, and by comparison, today can begin to appear a little lackluster.  When that comparison starts to take place, it’s easy to think things such as, “Remember when….”, and rather than simply relishing the memory of a cherished moment, it becomes a pining for a time and place when things might have seemed “more.”  In actuality, the pining isn’t for a time or a place, but for a feeling; and feelings are such fickle things.  Immaturity manifests itself in a life dominated by how one feels or doesn’t feel…

My relationship with my husband doesn’t look the same as it did fourteen years ago; and it shouldn’t.  If we were still in the early stages of our love relationship, something would be seriously wrong.  We’ve grown together; we’ve changed; we’ve weathered storms and celebrated triumphs.  Different is not necessarily equivalent to bad; worse; wrong.  I still enjoy getting flowers and candy and love notes, and a night out on the town with the man I love is certainly exciting and wonderful, but it’s important for me to recognize the overtures of love manifesting themselves in these teen years of my marriage, as well as in each of the phases to follow.

So it is with my relationship with God.  I prayed a prayer asking Jesus to be Lord of my life almost thirty-three years ago.  I can recall how simplistically I viewed my friendship with Jesus when I was a child, and I’m struck by the measure of child-like faith I had back then.  I also recall various experiences and encounters I’ve had with God over the span of our relationship that were incredible and powerful and left an indelible mark upon my heart.  There’s most definitely merit to having memorial stones- those things we can look at and remember how God manifested his glory and changed us in the process; those times when we recognized with greater clarity his extravagant love.  Then we, as David did, can recall who God’s been for us and what he’s done and encourage ourselves in the Lord.  However, I believe one of the diversionary tactics of the enemy is to entice us to avert our gaze onto what was, not as a means of encouragement or restoring hope or eliciting anticipation of what God’s got in store next, but to make what is appear lackluster.  “Remember when I had this experience with God… If only I could go back to that time or that place… If only I could feel like that again.”

I’ve often heard ministers speak of God doing a “new” thing; wanting to do a “new” thing; praying that he would do a “new” thing.  So often, however, what we really desire is that he do that old thing he did that one time that made us feel so good.  But our relationship with God shouldn’t look like it did last year or five years ago or thirty years ago.  As we walk with him and learn with him and grow in him, we change; our relationship with him takes on the nuances of exquisite familiarity, and it’s his desire to teach us to recognize the overtures of maturing love.  I believe the new things God wants to do in me- in all of us- are in the context of the not at all new thing he purposed from the start:  to have intimate relationship with his beloved.  I’m convinced that there are experiences and encounters and adventures God has planned for me of which I can’t even begin to conceive, and that breeds such a holy anticipation and excitement!

Romans 8:15-17: “This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what's coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we're certainly going to go through the good times with him!”

Thanks, God, for ALL that you’ve done, and help me to be always mindful of your goodness.  Yet how wonderful that what I’ve experienced with you thus far is only just the beginning!  Remind me, though, that it’s all about dancing joyfully in the arms of my Father whose heartbeat is for mine!

Sibling Rivalry

This past Christmas, I received an incredibly special gift.  Not to say that each gift I received wasn’t, in its own right, special; for nothing given out of a heart of love lacks significance.  However this particular gift was given to me by a very dear friend.  In fact, to call her “friend” somehow seems inappropriate because she’s so much more than that.  God has entwined our souls with bonds of love that have afforded a God friendship to blossom and thrive into a spiritual sisterhood.  But that’s fodder for another blog entry. J  My point:  The gift given to me by my “sister” is quite special to me because she created it for me as a demonstration of her love for me as well as a means of communicating what I meant to her.  It’s a bracelet- beautiful, I might add- and it’s cleverly constructed of Scrabble tiles.  On one side, the tiles are overlaid with beautiful ornamentation, but on the reverse side, they spell out a word:  Treasure.  She chose that word for me because, she said, that’s what I am to her.  I knew she loved me; yet the tangible reminder of the sentiments of her heart touched a place deep in my heart.

Now, I’m not the only person my friend loves.  In fact, love just seems to ooze out of her; that’s just part of her makeup.  So there were others for whom she created works of art and heart as well.  The gifts were the “same” in that they were all bracelets and all held a message from the giver to the recipient, yet they were all quite different.  Each was created with a particular person in mind, each tailored toward the specific relationships they represented.

All of this came to mind recently as I was contemplating sibling rivalry.  This is a condition that probably everyone has some familiarity with.  Perhaps you’re a parent with children who constantly vie for the title of “Mom’s Favorite”.  Or maybe you grew up with a sibling with whom you always felt the need to compete.  It’s a part of our human nature, and it’s an area in which the enemy likes to meddle.  Feelings of inferiority and insecurity and being not quite up to par can plague us and torment us to the point where we can’t at all see who we are because our vision is obscured by what we’re not.

Sibling rivalry isn’t confined to biological families.  There’s an infestation of it within the Church- brothers and sisters in Christ viewing one another as rivals.  We’re tempted to look at those receiving accolades; those who seem to be accomplishing mighty feats for God; those who seem to have God-favor dripping off of them… and compare ourselves based upon who we don’t believe we are or could be.

The fact of the matter is, God isn’t impressed by us nor our attempts at what we’ve deemed holy or righteous.  Not that he’s against holiness and righteousness!  But I think his heart must cry out, “You’re not getting it!  I don’t want what you do; I want a relationship with you!  I love you!!”

As my friend created the “same” gift for several people, so Jesus gave us the “same” gift when he purchased our freedom through his death.  Likewise, we’re offered the “same” gift in that he desires relationship with each of us.  But this is where “sameness” ends and wild uniqueness takes over!  It’s very easy to watch how God seems to relate to others and, if we don’t see the same thing in our relationship, determine that something’s wrong with us or that he just doesn’t favor us as highly.  Paul admonishes us in Galatians to “not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse.  We have far more interesting things to do with our lives.  Each of us is an original.”  How my friend’s heart would have broken had I looked at the bracelet she lovingly created just for me and said, “Well, why didn’t you use the word ‘hope’ or ‘joy’ for me?  Why am I 'only' a ‘treasure’?  Why did you use these colors for me and those colors for her?  Do you like her better?”  The gift she gave to me was symbolic of her relationship with me and had no bearing on her relationship with anyone else.  The gifts given to me by the Holy Spirit are because of his love relationship with me and with no one else.

I think one of the ploys of the enemy is to cause us to begin looking at who we are in light of who others seem to be because he knows that “it’s in Christ we find out who we are and what we’re living for.”

Shine your spotlight, Holy Spirit!  Reveal to hurting hearts the source of their pain.  Let every lie of the enemy be revealed for what it is.  Raise up a generation of people who emanate your light and live loudly and in all the fullness of who they are in Christ.

Rejection

To say that I was experiencing emotional agitation would be a gross understatement.  I was crushed.  The logical, grown-up part of me that “knows better” could not override the pain coming from somewhere deep within that was causing my heart to bleed.  This was not an unfamiliar feeling; indeed, I wouldn’t have to try hard to bring to mind instances wherein I’d felt this familiar hurt, and were I to trace its origins, I would discover that the onset had occurred sometime in my very early years.  I was experiencing what has been called the “sting of rejection.”  That term in itself is laughable.  It should be called the “knife in the heart, punch in the gut, ripping off of fingernails pain of rejection.”  The “knowing better” part could see that the people from whom I had perceived rejection hadn’t done anything wrong.  They hadn’t been blatantly mean.  It was more rejection by non-affirmation.

The truth is, this isn’t a feeling uncommon to most.  Every person alive has, at one time or another, in one measure or another, experienced this pain.  It’s innate in us to desire an understanding of our unique place in this world; to know that we’re here for more than just taking up space; to know that we matter.  Ultimately, that desire is met in the arms of a Father who made us and is crazy in love with us.  Ephesians 1:11 tells us, “It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for.”  And in Christ, we discover that who we are is the apple of God’s eye; a pearl of great price; the woman in The Last of the Mohicans who is told by the man who loves her, “I will find you!” (Okay, that last one may just be for me.  I’m a romantic at heart, and that’s one of my most favorite lines in any movie!)  The point is, we were created to dance with Jesus!  To live loved.  Each of us is God’s favorite.

Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine. When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down. When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end— Because I am God, your personal God, The Holy of Israel, your Savior. I paid a huge price for you: all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in! That's how much you mean to me! That's how much I love you! I'd sell off the whole world to get you back, trade the creation just for you.     ~Isaiah 43:1

When we embrace this truth and live out an ever-increasing love relationship with God, we become that message.  We’re transformed.  We can stop looking for things by which we can measure up or present ourselves acceptable or worthwhile, which is what we do in our frantic attempts to avoid rejection, for to be rejected would solidify in our hearts the lie that is perpetuated that says we are, in fact, worthless; not good enough; not as good as; worthy only to be discarded.  Ironically, in our mad scrambling to keep rejection at bay, we do to others the very thing that causes us such heartache when done to us.

Why, then, would it surprise us that the enemy would utilize rejection as a tool of his trade?  He’s intent on our destruction.  It’s an incredible threat to him for us to become the message of love to a world that so desperately needs it.  There are people who have been fed the lie of inferiority for so long that they’ve embraced it as truth and can’t see even a trace of their true, God-created identities; the treasure inside of them.

I want to love like Jesus loved.  Like he still loves.  He was willing to touch those whom society deemed worthless; unclean; those to be avoided.  He saw beyond their exterior to the heart of who they truly were being called to be.  May I decrease so that Christ may increase, and as that occurs, may the fragrant aroma of Christ entice those who are being drawn into relationship with him by the Holy Spirit.  After all, isn’t this really the point?

The Good Ol' Days

I’ve been fairly distraught lately.  The cause of my mental anguish:  the fit (or “non”-fit, more precisely) of my clothes.  I’m not morbidly obese, nor do I engage in binge eating.  In fact, as I begin approaching middle age, I’m more aware of genetic pre-dispositions to things such as diabetes and heart disease, and while I’m far from a health nut, I do try to make healthy choices when it comes to diet and exercise.  However, one medical condition passed on to me via DNA is hypothyroidism, and there’s nothing I can control with regard to whether or not my thyroid gland produces an adequate supply of thyroid hormone.  When it isn’t working properly, it wreaks havoc with my metabolism, and symptomatic of that is weight gain.  As a woman in today’s society, it’s very difficult not to get caught up with body image and self-scrutiny.

On another seemingly unrelated note (but I promise- there really is a connection!), I’ve also found myself irritated by what I’ve perceived to be a lack of autumnal hues in the foliage this fall.  Many of the vibrant crimsons and fiery oranges seem to be missing this season.

In short, it seems that I have, to some extent, been pining for the “good ol’ days”.  The early days of my marriage, when my weight was ideal and I could easily wear a size 6/8… the days after Logan was born, when the pounds seemed to melt off as easily as they did when I was a teenager… the days of some “perfect” fall when red and orange leaves abounded… those “good ol’ days.”

In the midst of my lamenting and pouting, the Holy Spirit wraps his arms around me.  He’s such a gentle corrector.  In fact, when the epiphany first comes, I don’t even recognize it as mental course direction.  Oh, but it is, and as I embrace it, it’ll have profound impact on my life and, I trust, on lives I touch.  The phrase comes to mind, “It is what it is.”  I’ve uttered those words before with a somewhat dismissive, almost apathetic attitude.  This time, though, they have a different connotation.  “It is what it is.”  Right now.  Here.  The present.  I’ll never be a 23-year-old bride again, and I’ll never be able to re-live some seemingly perfect season of my youth.  I can try as hard as I might to construct some idyllic state of being as a means of fabricating some emotional state of well-being so that I can THEN enjoy life… but that won’t happen.  The reason, I believe, that good memories linger is because they serve as a mile marker of a time when we truly embraced “now.”  “It was what it was.”  And right now is what it is.  Right now, I’m a 36-year-old mother of two of the orneriest, most wonderful boys who ever were.  Right now, I understand God’s love for me more than I ever have in my entire life.  Right now, life has some rocky places, but they’re serving to make the journey that much more adventurous.  It is what it is- it’s life!

Would you look at that!  Those are red leave skittering across my back yard! J