I’ve had a couple of occasions in the last few weeks to send a polite but firmly worded letter to a company to complain about a service issue.  It actually takes quite a bit to move me to the point where I’m ready to complain.  I have a good deal of tolerance for small inconveniences and I’ve worked front-line retail and back office operations and everything in between so I understand that sometimes things just happen.  However, when a problem reaches a point where the service I’m paying for does not fulfill the agreement I’ve entered into with the provider, it’s time for The Letter.  It is never rude, but it lays out exactly what I am unhappy with, and how and when I would like to see it resolved.  The true key to The Letter is the recipient; it should always go to someone high up enough on the organizational ladder to have the power to get things fixed in a jiffy.

Yesterday, I had another reason to contact customer service, but this time around it was different.  I was in the wrong.  In the process of cleaning my kitchen, I accidentally destroyed a document I needed, and I dreaded contacting the company who could hopefully provide the replacement.  It’s a very large company, and its reputation for customer experience is not very good.  My past interactions with them had been filled with corporate-speak on their side and frustration and long hold times on mine, but I really needed this piece of paper, so I decided to take a chance and call a small, somewhat local office instead of the “official” number.  I spoke to a lady that couldn’t have been nicer.  She truly went the extra mile to help me, and while it just wasn’t possible for her to fax me a same-day replacement like I’d hoped for, she explained how she had tried to make that happen, why it couldn’t happen, and what additional steps she had taken to make sure I did get it the fastest way possible within her abilities.

That got me thinking… Christians seem to often be viewed from the outside, or maybe even from groups within, the same way we view large, distantly-located corporations.  We are seen as a group filled with rules, and policies, and “We can’t do that” and “You better not be doing that“.  The more public opinion is freely expressed through social media, the more it seems that it is almost hip or trendy to dismiss Christians who choose to express conservative beliefs as “bigots” and Christians who express liberal beliefs as “flaky”, and in an era of Be Your Own Person, the very idea of living a life submitted to the lordship of a deity has become publicly laughable.  While this all makes me sad, it also makes me determined to take a good look inside.  When I have an interaction like the one yesterday, I can’t dismiss the company as a faceless entity anymore.  Instead, I have made a human connection.  I remember that someone there cared about me and treated me with fairness, honesty, and a good bit of grace.

Are we treating people that way from inside our churches?  Am I treating people with distance and policy?

I’ve written about showing love before, but I think it bears repeating, and I am speaking to myself as much as anyone.  We must love.  In my earlier post, I shared from 1 Corinthians:13, the “Love Chapter”.  But leading into that, at the end of chapter 12, Paul tells us we are Christ’s body and explains that we are all differently gifted and shouldn’t turn on one another in jealousy.  But then in the last verse, to put it in corporate lingo, he moves from instruction on how to work as a multi-function team to the Vision Statement, “And yet I will show you the most excellent way.”  And from there, chapter 13 begins and we are reminded that love really is the answer.

When I am at work, the customer who is dissatisfied is responded to quickly and carefully.  I apologize for not meeting their expectations, take care to resolve the situation to their convenience as much as possible, thank them for their continued interest in my company, and try to add something extra, whether speed or a refund or something else that shows I value them. I may be bound by legalities as to what I can actually do to make them happy, but I would never consider helping some people and not others, because it’s the right thing to do, and it’s just good business.  If we as Christians run into (or view from afar) someone we perceive as negative about Christianity, do we take it as seriously as we would if we were getting paid to deal with them?  Do we apologize where it’s due?  Do we not only allow the love of God to flow through us but go beyond to actively seek ways to show love to people?  Or do we shrink away and give up?  All people are individually responsible for their response to God, but as that Body we are the front line of service, the image of God.  Have we not had a personal experience with the creator of the universe?  Are we not truly changed?  Are we keeping it a secret from anyone out of fear or convenience?

The video below is Penn Jilette (of Penn and Teller, the magician duo), an avowed and outspoken atheist.  He posted this reflection after an interaction with a Christian man at the close of one of his shows a few years ago.  It has stuck with me since I first viewed it, because although to my knowledge Penn has not yet accepted Christ, love was shown at the place and time where it needed to be shown, and it clearly made an impression.

Big changes are afoot in the house of J and H at the moment.  J will begin a new job on Monday.  This has been a long prayed-for opportunity and we definitely see God’s hand in the process.  It will put the two of us on a much more similar schedule, something we haven’t experienced for about 5 years, and it will give J room to grow his skills in a slightly new direction.  Amidst all the positives, there is also another significant change.  The job is in another town, one much closer to where I currently work.  So, the decision is to either carpool and share a total daily commute of an hour each way, or relocate.

Our current plan is to carpool for now, and work directly towards moving as soon as we can.  That, of course, depends on the whims of the housing market, but in our corner of the country it’s not as grim as it’s been in other places, so we’re putting it in God’s hands and aiming for a reasonable asking price, a savvy realtor, and a quick sale.  There are a handful of DIY projects we’d like to finish before we list it, and then there’s the daunting prospect of maybe having to pack everything up.  I. Hate. Moving.  The year J and I got married, I moved three times and when the last box came into our current house, I informed him that I didn’t intend to move again in my lifetime.  Ha!  Why do we make such declarations?  Seven years later, we’ve each changed jobs, we’ve grown as a couple, and we have a far better sense of who we are and a more specific vision of our “dream home.”

One of the reasons I hate moving so much is that it forces you to touch every single item you own, and in truth, that means it forces you to acknowledge how much useless junk that includes.  Despite my best intentions of scaling down from the Year of Three Moves, complacency easily sets in when we stay in one place for awhile, and I am freshly aware of the Stuff that surrounds us.  It’s not that big of a stretch; I’ve purged unhealthy choices from my eating, we’re working towards purging debt from our lives (I truly believe my commute is somehow a little shorter knowing we paid off my car last week!), and now the spotlight has landed on possessions.  This was further emphasized in Bible study this week, when we were asked to take a good look at the reasons why we’re keeping the possessions we have.  Do we get true meaning from them, do they genuinely enhance the quality of life (ours or others), or do they provide a one-time validation but now contribute nothing but clutter?

I heard a great piece of advice on organizing once, from a professional on one of those “come help me deal with my clutter” shows.  He said “if you’re keeping something stashed away, simply because you think you should, you’re not honoring that item.”  He was talking most specifically about those sorts of objects we inherit but don’t love, or receive as somewhat misdirected gifts, but I think it applies pretty well to everything.  With that running through my mind, we decided that if we were even considering moving, we wanted to travel as lightly as possible, so this weekend we tackled the attic.  Our true span-the-house attic is reached by ceiling access and thank goodness we don’t store anything at all up there.  Our useable attic is walk-in unfinished space at the back of the upstairs, which is actually dangerous, because it’s just so easy to open the door and shove something in there to deal with later.  Especially when sudden company is expected, I am sorry to say.  We purged, tossed, sorted, and assessed, and I am pleased to say the attic is now half as full as it once was, and all that’s left are seasonal decorations, empty suitcases, and 1 bin of winter clothes per human member of the household.  Goodwill got a significant donation, the trash pickup will be a little weightier this week, and just a small percentage of items were put back into current use.

It feels so good to have that job done that I find I keep sticking my head in and flipping on the light just to admire all the empty floor space.  There’s also a sense of mental and spiritual relief.  Bit by bit, I’m coming into better alignment with the lighter, leaner life I’ve been craving.  I certainly don’t mean that it’s wrong to have a lot of possessions, which, by the way, is possible to do whether you have a lot of money or not.  When James condemned useless wealth in chapter 5, he says “You have hoarded wealth in the last days” and “The wages you failed to pay the workers who mowed your fields are crying out against you.”  I don’t believe he was saying having money, or things, or both is evil.  However, it’s pretty clear that if we are holding on to wealth or things with our own tight grip, because we fear what will become of us without it, we are expending an awful lot of effort and time for very little return.  When the Lord is our strength and our shield, we can serve Him with open hands.  We freely give (we even PLAN to give) of our time, money, and possessions when He directs us to.  We develop an attitude of seeking opportunities to share what we have with others.  We save responsibly for the future so we can continue to give while we meet our earthly obligations.

Since I shared an old hymn last time, I’ll mention one more here.  One of the things I saved out of the attic purge was a small stack of decorating magazines.  I love looking through them; I celebrate a lovely, inviting home and I enjoy my books and mementos from my mother’s country and those cherished odds and ends of my grandparents.  I love the fun of buying the perfect finishing touch for a room (and getting it at way discounted prices).  But every once in awhile, I find myself singing the words “My Heavenly home is bright and fair, I feel like traveling on.”  I want to live now in such a way that I am remembered more for my love and compassion than the contents of my living room, and I want to run freely into His arms, where my true value will be celebrated as a child of the King.  Lightness, indeed!

Today was a bit of a milestone on my journey; 30 pounds down!  I have a long way to go before I’m in the “ideal” category on most charts that measure physical sorts of things, but instead of being daunted, I choose to celebrate.  The clothes I was wearing at the end of March, when this whole thing began, are nearly all out of commission and soon to be shared with friends or Goodwill.  Yesterday I went through a sizeable stash of shorts, capris, and odds and ends that had been in my attic for several summers; the cast-offs of several vacations where I realized before leaving that I needed cooler clothes, purchased the same size I’d worn the last summer in a last-minute panic, and got home to realize I wasn’t that size anymore, unfortunately.

Those castoffs fit yesterday, pair after pair, and boy did that feel good.  Then this morning I got on the scale, saw my progress in bold digital numbers, and did the Scale Happy Dance.  That’s something that will likely never EVER appear on video, but it was true jubilation.  I’ve not really fixated on an ultimate goal, because to me that signifies dieting, and that is very much not what I am doing.  Instead, I am celebrating the sense of feeling better in my own skin.  I don’t walk away from meals with guilt anymore, and while I enjoy very tasty food every day, I am finally experiencing the difference between “eat to live” and “live to eat.”

I’ve had several people who have watched me change over the weeks ask me how I’m doing it.  When I tell them, the most common response is, “That’s great that you’re doing that!  I couldn’t do it, I love ___ too much.”  I understand that completely; I’ve said it myself.  But I’ll never say it again.  I’ve learned something amazing; when I gave my body a chance to run on the right kind of fuel, I didn’t just lose pounds, I lost cravings.  I don’t grieve because I “can’t” have a cinnamon roll for breakfast. I rejoice because I’m not interested in one.  I didn’t expect that part of my journey, and it has turned out to be the very best part.

I was thinking about that at church this morning.  The worship team was leading in a jubilant song of praise for God’s goodness to us, and I watched the expressions of worship around me.  Most were clapping, many were jumping up and down, and a few were flat-out dancing for joy.  It’s a big church, and I don’t know everyone’s stories, but I do know that some of the ones who were the most expressive in their worship are the ones whose have been the most radically changed since they let God into their lives.  It was genuine and unselfconscious, much like my dance at the scale earlier in the morning, and it made me wonder how often our feet are stilled because we’ve told God, “That’s great that You want to do that!  I don’t think it would work for me though, I love ___ too much.”

Oh friends, what are we passing up by holding so tightly to our small pleasures?

I have tried and failed more diets and programs than I care to count.  I’ve always hoped I wouldn’t fail, but suspected I would.  I can boldly say I know I won’t fail now, because this isn’t a “program” and it doesn’t end at a particular goal but is rather a change for life.  It’s also not willpower; if I’d just started with a pantry clean-out and sheer determination, I doubt I would have lasted this long.  The key is that when I gave my refrigerator over to health, I also gave my eating habits to God.  I was truly tired of where I was, and I didn’t want to get in my own way anymore.  I don’t just want to wear clothes well, or be more energetic, I want to use that energy to share the love of Jesus with those around me.  I want whatever He has to give me, and I suspect I’ve only scratched the surface of His riches.

It’s true that often we are most ready to make a radical change when we’ve hit genuine misery in our present circumstances.  But I wonder how much unnecessary misery we experience out of a belief that we’ll eternally regret it if we don’t experience just a few more “pleasures” before we give a particular something up to God.  I don’t know what those pleasures are for you, but I can guarantee they offer a poor rate of return compared to “the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus” in Ephesians 2.

Before I even knew what our service would hold at church this morning, I found myself singing one of my favorite old hymns in the shower this morning.  I share it with my love and prayers that if you have a need, you’ll find the answer in Him:

Satisfied

V1
All my life long I had panted
For a draught from some cool spring,
That I hoped would quench the burning
Of the thirst I felt within.

Chorus
Hallelujah! I have found Him
Whom my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies my longings;
Through His blood I now am saved.

V2
Feeding on the husks around me,
Till my strength was almost gone,
Longed my soul for something better,
Only still to hunger on.

V3
Poor I was, and sought for riches,
Something that would satisfy,
But the dust I gathered round me
Only mocked my soul’s sad cry.

V4
Well of water, ever springing,
Bread of life, so rich and free,
Untold wealth that never faileth,
My Redeemer is to me.

There is red, white, and blue everywhere I look, and there are fireworks going off across the nation and, from the sounds of it, about 2 feet away from my house.  That last bit is making me a little nervous.  We aren’t under an official ban here, but it’s pretty darn dry out there.  J and I had a lovely time at a party last weekend, so we opted to celebrate the 4th today with total do-nothingness.  It’s not too common for us to have a shared day off mid-week, and although there are projects aplenty around the house, today was not their day.  And it was lovely; lots of quiet time to surf Facebook and Pinterest, to watch my current favorite live stream of cuteness, plus I stayed in my pajamas nearly all day.  The only thing that forced me to put on grown-up clothes was the prospect of going out for a dinner I didn’t have to cook.

All that surfing was actually fairly educational today.  I have friends on both sides of the political aisle and quite “vocal” in their postings.  This is particularly interesting when it gets into the explosive combination of politics and faith.  I’m thankful for our right to free speech, even if it does result in a hot-tempered cacophony at times.  Between the national holiday and the the Bible studies and devotionals I’ve been working in, freedom has certainly been a theme.  Whatever your political leanings, identifying as a Christian is often to be identified by what you don’t do.

I find that to be backwards; those things from which I abstain make up such a small part of my life and are far more freedoms than constraints.  I don’t lie, steal, cheat, or kill.  Making sure I’m consistent with that takes up perhaps .02% of my day, thanks to the redeeming grace of God and the fact that it’s been quite a few decades since I agreed with God that none of those options would benefit me or my world.  I also came to an early conviction that sex was the final bond on a committed relationship, making it both important enough to wait for and unimportant enough that I wouldn’t die without it.  You don’t get to be a 32 year-old virgin bride without becoming known as the girl who Doesn’t.  Probably most controversial right now, in light of the recent vote to allow alcohol sales in my area for the first time since the 1930’s, I don’t drink.  I don’t live in the city limits, so I wasn’t allowed to vote regardless of my feelings, but boy was that a hot button topic, and among Christians more than anyone.  There were pastors begging their congregations to vote dry and pastors blogging that alcohol is biblically permitted and everything in between.

For what it’s worth, here’s the reason behind my choice: I don’t want to.  You like a drink here and there?  Don’t ever drive impaired, and follow the Bible’s command in Ephesians 5:18, “And do not be drunk with wine, in which is dissipation; but be filled with the Spirit.” Outside of that, help yourself, truly.  I can completely accept that your freedom in Christ can include freedom to drink.  If you are interested in further reasons for why I choose not to drink, here they are:  I don’t see what it would add to my life.  I’m not interested in the empty calories as a trade off for extra flavor at my meals, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on any level of enjoyment when my celebrations don’t include it, and on the furthest serious side, I’ve seen the sad, permanent traces of damage in the family of a beloved alcoholic and I felt the gut-wrenching fear and relief as a child when my dad miraculously climbed alive out of a car demolished by a head-on hit from a drunk driver.

To me, my “I don’ts” are freedom.  I really like 1 Corinthians 10:23 in the NASB: “All things are lawful, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful, but not all things edify.”  Paul has a lot of other interesting things to say after that verse about freedom to partake in life’s activities and freedom to abstain.  The summation is the key in verse 31, “Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”  That’s really a fairly simple test, and covers any choice we could possibly make.  Ah, but what makes up the glory of God?  I heard a truly wise man say once, “You want to know God’s will for your life?  Live God’s will for your life.”  If I am living off past teachings and neglecting present time with God, I struggle more with big questions, “Will this lead me to the right point 5 years from now?”  or “Is this the right house to buy, job to take, church to attend?”  When I am immersed in Him, filling myself with spiritual food and staying in constant conversation with Him throughout the day, the questions are much simpler, like “How do I love this person in front of me right now?” and “Do I need what I’m about to buy or was I just made aware of a need in someone else’s life?”  If I make my choices in the moments, the years take care of themselves.

So.  I live in a country that fiercely proclaims it is “land of the free, home of the brave.”  And it really is.  May we learn to exercise real freedom, which indeed takes a good amount of bravery.  May we realize we can be independent of fear, oppression, jealousy, anger and a flaming case of judgmental “they don’t deserve it”, but only when we acknowledge our utter dependence on the majesty and grace of a God who has provided utter redemption for all of us who will accept it.  We learn the Bill of Rights in school as children, but somehow we grow up prepared to constantly defend our personal claim to them instead of using them to freely love and uplift others.  As Beth Moore said in last week’s study video, “If we’re going to err, lets err on the side of mercy!”  If only we weren’t so busy trying to legislate kindness and respect, but were busy simply letting Christ live it through us and trusting Him to take care of our own interests.  Wonder what that kind of America would look like?

I read an article this week in People magazine that included an interview with Rielle Hunter, along with excerpts from her book.  If you don’t recognize her by name, she and John Edwards had an affair while she worked on his presidential campaign.  The affair resulted in a daughter, as well as a tremendous amount of public scrutiny.  What struck me wasn’t the scandal – sadly, affairs happen every day and infidelity alone isn’t all that sensational anymore.  That doesn’t diminish their destructive power, but what really got my attention in this case was Rielle’s comments on love.

The first night she met John, he told her he’d been unfaithful to his wife for decades and was currently seeing three women in addition to his wife (which turned out to be a lie designed to keep her at arm’s length).  Considering that his marriage had evidently been “off the rails” for years, she dropped any resistance and immediately began a relationship with him.  Although she was aware Elizabeth Edwards was devastated on learning of the affair, she figured since John had been cheating for years already, Elizabeth’s anger had nothing to do with her.  When Rielle told John how hurt she was by his initial public denial of her daughter’s paternity he said, “Sorry, but it [his speech] didn’t mean anything” and she accepted that answer.  When he confessed that he’d lied about the other women when she met him, she broke up with him.  He said “You’ll adjust.”  And 24 hours later, she was back with him, so he was right.  Her summation of the relationship was “I followed my heart and I don’t regret it.” She announced in the article that they were still a couple after all these years.  Yesterday she announced they were over.

She’s really had me thinking.   I’m saddened by her acceptance of such a shadow of true love and a fraction of a relationship.  I wonder what hope there is for a normal, healthy life for her daughter.  I suspect she is unwelcome most places she goes, except for those who hope to profit by the public’s distaste for her, and I pray someone she intersects with will be able to show her that God loves her, really loves her.  That she is enough, that she doesn’t have to sell her heart for a shadow of its real value.  Today it’s Rielle.  Years ago it was a friend, who sobbed in my arms while she expressed her regret of some terrible choices made in her loneliness. In all of history it’s countless millions who search for a connection, some timidly, some defiantly, and all in brokenness.  We are so driven to find love.  What does God say love is?

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 says “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. ” In verse 13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. ”  Some translations actually replace “love” with “charity”, which gives quite a different feel to the idea and makes a lot of sense to me.  It describes a love that doesn’t worry about self but constantly seeks to set the other person up for the highest levels of true success.  And if both people are seeking to raise one another higher?  Something spectacular blooms and spills over in a ripple effect to all those around them.  And the best part?  1 John 4:8 says “God is love.”  He embodies that beautiful definition.  He wants to raise us up, He loves us as his precious children, He desires to give us hope and a future. Later in verse 19 it’s confirmed, “We love because He first loved us.”

Ah, but we are human.  Can we not be excused for sometimes stumbling, for being so overwhelmed by emotion that “right now” blocks any view of “some day”?  God makes it abundantly clear in 1 John 1:9 that “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”  To say it plainly, it’s not where we fall, it’s where we wallow. When we have chosen a poor relationship, we inevitably become aware of it.  And when we have awareness, we have a choice.  How do we know we’re making the right choice?  Early in my relationship with J (the giddy head-over-heels in love stage) a wise concerned person asked me if I was rushing into things.  My answer was Ephesians 1:10, which says God’s will is “to bring unity to all things in heaven and on earth under Christ.”  He does not create discord.  J and I were both committed to following God, as were those wise loving people around us and we knew that if our relationship was healthy, not only would we know it, but so would they.  One of the happiest memories of our wedding was the beaming smiles on both sides of the aisle, affirmation of our decision to join as a family centered in Christ.

We put a lot of time and thought into possible inscriptions inside our wedding bands.  I was overwhelmed with all the options, from poetry to song lyrics to scripture to witty modernisms (one that made me giggle was “Put me back on!”).  Scripture won the day, and “Philippians 2:2-3” is engraved in each of our wedding bands because the verses felt just like the rings – a smooth, right fit.  They say, “then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves”.  We strive to make our decisions in light of those words, and it’s evident that the best moments in our marriage match to the times when we’re each valuing the other higher than ourselves.  But when you’re basking in the glow of being uplifted, remember the Rielle’s of the world.   Those words in 1 Corinthian 13 weren’t just written for marriage ceremonies.  We are charged to show that kind of love to everyone without regard to their deservingness, because when we’re truly loved, it changes us and opens our eyes to the love of the Father. Because He first loved you, who can you treat with love today?

It has been a busy week.  Not so much of the body, but very much so of the brain.  I spent the week from Sunday afternoon onwards in classes learning more about my industry.  I won’t go into detail here, although if you’re just itching for lessons in finance, I can point you to a few resources.  It really was a great week, and my not-so-inner geek really loved the chance to take notes and study for an exam.  I know, get a life right?  I love this life!  While I have already confessed a tendency towards laziness in the body (although Zumba is quickly curing that), I can’t sit still in the brain.  I get a big charge out of learning something new, and the history of my web browser is full of rabbit trails of chasing off after research or one kind or another, so my class time was a happy challenge.

I learned a few non-banking lessons this week too.  One that pierced my heart was being caught, yet again, in my own impatience.  I’d love to say I didn’t have to relearn that sort of lesson, but maybe this time I at least caught it faster.  Tired from a long day of brain drain, I called in an order to a restaurant, planning to pick it up and make a beeline for my hotel room, comfy clothes, and quiet.  I pulled up to the designated spot for curbside delivery, and sat for a total of 10 minutes past the time my dinner was supposed to be ready.  I didn’t sit alone; there were cars ahead of and behind me, so I was thoroughly convinced it wasn’t going to be a smooth transaction.  Just then, the server burst out of the door, smiling and rushing to bring out the orders.  She was young and cute and bubbly and I couldn’t help smiling in return.  And then I noticed, as she headed back in to run my card, that she had a deformity in one of her arms so that it was bent and twisted back towards her waist.  This girl serves plates and trays of food for a living, a job I have never wanted to do, and she does it with a level of challenge I can’t imagine.  And she was doing it with a happy heart.  So I released my frustration and prayed that there wouldn’t be a next time.  That I would be consistent in remembering that my watch doesn’t rule the world.  That I would ever approach my own job with a thankful heart and a smile.

There were certainly smiles when I got home.  I am so thankful for the opportunities I had this week, but this is the longest I’ve been apart from my husband, and one of the other lessons I’ve learned is that when I’m not with him, I’m not me.  It’s not a radical personality change, but it is deeply felt in the heart.  As much as marriage has been dissected by books, researchers, and therapists, there is still a holy mystery at the center of it, where two truly do become one.  J and I aren’t joined at the hip; we have different interests and somewhat different schedules, but we are best friends, and we have learned how to create quality in the time we do spend together.  There are calls, texts, and emails, but when he’s working late hours at home and I’m crashing with mental exhaustion hours away, the absence of pillow talk is profound.  Therefore, I am so very happy to be back home in my nest, with J and the cats and my own bed and my family nearby.  I don’t ever take that for granted.  Plus, the house smells fantastic because J had put dinner in the crockpot this morning so it would be ready when I arrived.

So goodnight for now.  Hug the ones you love, and pray with me that we’ll have eyes open to see opportunities for His love to shine through us.

I should know better than to start a blog post this late at night, but I haven’t posted in a while.  That’s not for lack of ideas, but for attempts to avoid those ideas, so I suppose I may as well post and perhaps clear my head.  Today was a bit of an unusual Sunday in our house.  Normally it’s up and off to church, but today I just had a hesitation I couldn’t explain.  We were actually in the car (and late, because I’d been subconsciously dragging my feet) when I finally voiced it to J.  Turns out we had similar feelings, so since we had our Bible with us anyway, we turned the opposite direction and went to one of our favorite spots by the lake.  In a sanctuary of trees and water, we read the Bible together, shared some things that had long needed to be shared, and prayed.  It was refreshing, because while we often talk about spiritual things, it’s about what we’ve been learning separately.  I’ve remembered how important it is to sometimes do the learning together.

One of the topics we spent some time on this morning (and frequently revisit) is one I’ll share here, because if I’m going to be real in this blog, this is a big part of my reality.  J and I don’t have children.  I’m usually pretty chatty, as every one of my childhood report cards attests, but even with my dearest friends I have rarely ever discussed our feelings about having a baby.  That’s because we want one, very much, and so far have not been able to have one.  It’s not just a serious topic, it’s often a painful one, and I have found I’ll often talk a lot about anything else to avoid talking about that.  I’m aware that’s not entirely healthy, so lately I’ve been making efforts to be a little more open about this side of my life.

I’m not going to get into comparing the merits of reproductive assistance vs. adoption vs. all the many other ways one can parent.  Love can take many wonderful expressions, but while there is still any hope we could conceive biologically, that is our prayer.  We’ve known since we got married that we wanted children, but we also made the decision to wait a few years before having any, for a multitude of complex reasons.  And now, it’s too late?  I don’t know.  That’s my answer to a lot of things lately, even some for which I previously thought I knew what to say.

It’s a topic I can’t get away from; even the Bible study I just completed was heavy on the theme of God’s promises being fulfilled through descendants.  And as I’ve mentioned here before, until this particular time in my life, I didn’t realize how much I sometimes struggle with believing God will promise blessings of that magnitude specifically to me.  That’s saying something; I’ve been a Christian for 30 years now, grew up with a very healthy attitude towards the love of God for us as a heavenly father, and only now am I seeing clearly how my own “what if I wasn’t good enough” clouds my vision.  I can see and even help extend Grace to others easily, but I am a miser when it comes to reaching for it myself.  So we spent a good bit of time at our lakeshore altar praying for my freedom from that very thing this morning.  I don’t have much more than that figured out.  This blog is my journey, not my final memoir, so as I learn more, I’ll share it.  I thought perhaps one of you might be in a learning place too, so maybe you’ll understand.

There are a few things I am much more certain of though.  J is a blessing to me beyond measure.  It’s a humbling experience and a gift to have your husband pray over you, and I sincerely believe even if no child ever comes from our marriage, we are stronger for the journey.  I’m more sensitive to the circumstances of others, too.  I understand that it’s not really helpful to ask newlyweds or marrieds of any duration when they’re going to have children.  Or couples when they’re getting married, or when anyone will make any life decision, for that matter.  (And churches?  I love you, but please don’t try to extend your Mother’s Day gift-giving to “all the women out there”.  I’d rather celebrate my own mother and my mommy friends from my pew than stand awkwardly up front, more pointedly aware than ever that I’m not one.)  And I’ve learned that sometimes, it’s better to share.  Nothing good comes from bottling up permanently, and sometimes, your pride or stubbornness is robbing one of your sisters in Christ from being a blessing to you herself.

I haven’t been online much in my personal time the last week or so, and I had actually planned to sit down tonight and blog some honest, heartfelt thoughts on a few deep topics I’ve been pondering over.

However.

After a busy day at work, spending a good bit of time in the kitchen tonight teaching J how to make turkey meatballs, then time to eat, then time to clean up, then finally trudging up the stairs with an armful of odds and ends to head for comfy clothes and the laptop, I stepped, barefoot, in something unspeakable one of the cats left behind, and all reflective thoughts were immediately shelved.  I’m sorry, I know that’s gross.  I won’t elaborate, but I needed to express the full extent of my misery.  So after more cleanup which also included an unrelated episode requiring the need to deal a swift death to a spider on my bedroom wall, I’m in no state for deep reflection.

Instead, I’ll accentuate the positive:

• J and I had a lovely long weekend together in Chattanooga; a very pretty city, with lots to see and do (despite the wilting heat).
• I saw a beautiful rainbow on the way to work yesterday.
• I’m starting a new Beth Moore Bible study tomorrow.
• I got to spend a delightful couple of hours Saturday visiting with my cousin and snuggling her new baby girl.
• I made more plans for my upcoming mission trip today.
• It’s the season for one of my all-time favorite salads (made tonight while J cooked).
• I’m down 24.5 pounds.
• After work yesterday I had the sweet serendipity of bumping into my parents in the grocery store.
• God loves me.

Someday soon, I’ll revisit those deep thoughts.  Meanwhile, now that I’ve counted some blessings, I will put this day to bed and move on towards tomorrow.

It’s been a very busy week in the household of H and J, with unexpected after-work obligations and a surprise opportunity for us to pal around for a day in the big city in the midst of it all.  One of those after-work obligations was a visit to the funeral home to support one of my co-workers in her loss.  I’m going to take a sidebar here:  when I say obligation, I mean it in the nicest way.  If I can claim any wisdom with my increasing age, one of things I have come to feel very strongly about is the importance of attending a visitation when someone close to you experiences a loss.  I’ve heard well-meaning people say “I just feel so uncomfortable about going.”  I say this in love: Get. Over. It.  Show up.  Your discomfort is nothing compared to the loss your friend has experienced, and all you have to do is walk in, hug your friend, and say “I’m so sorry.”  It matters, it really does, and I’ll admit in my younger past I’ve sometimes thought it wouldn’t really be noticed if I was there or not.  I’m sorry for that now, because in my own losses I’ve experienced how much it means to see the outpouring of love and respect for the one you’ve lost, even if there are too many faces to keep straight in your grief. And with that, Sidebar closed, but please really.. when the time comes, go.

So, the busy week. It finally wound down to my favorite kind of Saturday; the fluffy-cloud, sunny, no rush, read-a-book, maybe shop a little with Mom kinda day.  I did make another stride in my “Pure Food Pure Home” efforts.  I made my own laundry detergent!  I have been reading about it on the internet and it sounded too easy not to try.  There are two reasons I wanted to do this, first because it’s ridiculously cheap and second because it avoids extra chemicals, dyes, and fragrances that wreak havoc on sensitive skin (and septic tanks!).  If you’d like to try it, here’s your basic ingredients:

• 1 bar of soap.  Cheap-o is fine (I bought Fels Naptha in the laundry aisle, which is large enough to count as 2 bars)
• 1 cup borax (sold by box in laundry aisle)
• 1 cup washing soda (also in box in laundry aisle.  NOT the same as baking soda)

There are two preparation methods, powder or liquid.  I made the powder, primarily in consideration of storage space.  Directions for the liquid version are here if you want them, but all similar instructions I’ve read call for 2 to 5 gallon buckets, and my laundry room is a glorified closet, so I don’t have much floor space in there.  First, grate your bar of soap down to the finest flakes you can produce.  I had excellent success with my micro-plane grater, which also happened to be the same width as the end of the bar of soap.  It may take quite a few minutes to get all the way through the bar, but it’s worth it because the finer the flake, the better the overall consistency.

When you’re done, take the soap flakes and add 1 cup of borax and 1 cup of washing soda.  Because of choosing the large bar of Fels Naptha, I added 2 cups of borax and 2 cups of washing soda to make a double batch.  When it’s all together in the bowl, mix mix mix mix until it’s very well blended and you’re done!  Use about 1 tablespoon per wash load.  If you’re using cold water and are concerned it won’t dissolve, just dissolve your spoonful in a cup of warm water and toss in the washer while it’s filling up. At my current grocery store prices, the Borax is $0.46 per cup, the washing soda is $0.58 per cup, and the Fels Naptha was $1.99 or $1 for half the bar.  That’s $2.04 per batch!!  You could also lessen even that amount drastically by buying a package of several bars of whatever soap you want super-cheap at the dollar store, which several other bloggers have said works perfectly fine.  One batch of homemade detergent is enough to do about 32 loads – the same amount of laundry as that $9 bottle at the store, so that Plink Plink?  That’s the chunk of change dropping into your piggy bank!  I’ve read several comments that suggest adding a scoop of Oxy Clean to the mix, but I’m going to try it without first, since I don’t add that to every load now anyway.

I’m working progressively on going Green where I can (I wonder if it counts that I found the cutest lime green ice bucket with lid at Tuesday Morning that happens to be the perfect size to store my laundry detergent?).  My overall recycling efforts leave a lot to be desired, partly because I don’t have curbside pickup like I do for my trash.  I know, that sounds awfully lazy, but I’m out of town during the day at work, and unless there’s been a change I’m not aware of, the recycling center is closed when I’m home.  However, we do recycle at work, I use my canvas shopping bags whenever I remember to, I recycle any grocery bags for cat litter disposal and other tasks, and I just bought a nifty pen made 89% from recycled water bottles.  We don’t buy cans or soda bottles and we filter our own water, plus as mentioned we’re trying to use more gentle and environmentally friendly products where we can.  Every little bit helps!

All of these changes I (we) have been making are great, but I don’t want to focus on the re(de)fining God is doing in my life just to become a better version of me.  How wasteful!  I want to become less of me, not just physically but also in importance.  Part of the reason I want to be fitter, leaner, and Green-er is so I can have more energy and resources to give away to help others.  My workplace is also astoundingly supportive of those sort of efforts, encouraging us to serve in Christ-centered opportunities and backing that up with the time and resources to make it possible.  So, I am considering an opportunity that has arisen for a mission trip this fall.  More details on that later, but it is overseas and would provide a wonderful opportunity to love on some people who need it.  I’ve heard a person or two say they’d rather help someone in their own town or state who needs it than to travel far away.  I say each one go where opportunity opens up to you.  There are 4.3 million Kentucky residents.  Accounting for elderly and children, if even 50% of us volunteered our time in some way, I think we could cover the state and the world both.  So, I’d appreciate your prayers, and please know you’re in mine!  I don’t know all of you personally, but if you were drawn here to read what God is doing with me, I believe it’s because He’s got fantastic plans for you too.  And please, feel free to share a link to the blog with your friends on Facebook or through email or any other way.  We’ll all encourage one another. Blessings!

The initial six-week kickstart has come to an end. In review:

• Cleaned out pantry to the walls
• Emptied fridge of all contraband
• Restocked pantry with nuts, rice, quinoa, and not much else
• Restocked fridge with a farmer’s market worth of veggies plus a good bit of chicken and turkey, with a package of tofu for good measure
• Ate that way for 6 weeks
• Started going to Zumba, became instantly addicted
• Lost 22 pounds
• Made up several recipes
• Cut out my previous takeout habit
• Saved a LOT of food money
• Reclaimed a little of my stored, formerly too-tight clothes
• Gained a happier body that feels as if fitness is a true possibility

We didn’t start this intending to end after six weeks, but this weekend I did ask J how he felt about continuing.  Since I initiated the changes, I needed to know if the thrill was gone.  He is losing weight as well and, like myself, feels better in his own skin, so he is all in favor.  I can’t express how much that helps.  Conviction is strong, but partnership is essential.

I wrapped up the final weekend with more birthday celebration, which featured all kinds of healthy food plus amazing gourmet cupcakes.  And yep, I ate one (and split another later that night with J).  And it was good, but not good enough to stop eating the way I have been lately.  I’ve often heard the phrase “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”.  Well I’m not close to skinny yet, but I have generally believed that phrase is a bunch of baloney (so to speak).  When you’re eating out of unhappiness, distress, sorrow, tension, celebration, or loneliness, skinny is the last thing you care about.  I will say, though, that I do believe that nothing tastes as good as healthy feels.  And I am only agreeing with that now because eating a “pure food” diet has genuinely re-tuned my taste buds and my cravings.

One of the most motivating parts of the last few weeks, right up there with getting into clothes I haven’t worn for a couple of years, is the encouragement I’ve received from my friends.  It’s nice to feel like you look nice, but what really keeps me going are the conversations where someone expresses they’ve wanted to get healthier too, and we’ve traded tips and support.  Zumba ROCKS, but it’s even better shared with a friend or three.  You probably won’t talk much during the class because you’ll be frantically trying to learn the steps and catch your breath, but there’s still a sense of camaraderie and support..

This whole process has made me more aware of the need for lifting one another up, and then a woman passing me on the sidewalk complimented my shoes today.  I love pretty shoes, and I was flattered that she took the time to compliment my style.  I’ve been working on that myself – how often do we have the impulse to share a kind thought and we’ve stifled it because we were too shy to say it, or we let the moment pass, or worse yet, at the root of it we’d rather not boost her up right now?  Say it.  It’s freeing to celebrate one another!  Say it to yourself, too.  I have been a painfully harsh critic of myself most of my life.  No one’s more aware than I am of how far I still have to go, but I am working on it.  And in the midst of the work, and the discipline, I am growing in grace as I shrink in body.  He makes all things beautiful, in His time.  Including you and me!!