Saying Goodbye

We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.

-Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

This quote made me think of my friend Felicia today. I read it this morning as I was wracking my brain, trying to think of something, anything, that I could give her as a goodbye gift. I couldn't think of anything beyond the two recipes she had asked for (which I did give her, of course). But this quote stuck with me today and I couldn't seem to let it go.

Perhaps I was just caught up in thinking about this friend of mine today because it was, after all, the last time I'd see her in quite some time. And even thought I knew this day was bound to happen, the day she'd leave us and head into the unknown as she followed God's gentle tug at her heart, it still caught me by surprise and made my heart ache more than I expected it to. 

 

When I saw this quote, it made me think of something she taught me, one of the things I admire about her the most. She has the capacity to block out the noise of what other people are saying and remain true to herself and what the Lord is saying to her. Of all the things I learned from her, this is perhaps the most important. Well, that and the way she loves people with her whole heart--the way I imagine Jesus loves them, too. I love that about her. I'll miss that about her.

Saying goodbye was hard even though I know it's a good goodbye. And I do believe this is a good goodbye. I don't know what's next for her, but what I do know is that my heart is heavy with hope for her future. Simply put, Felicia is one of the best people I know; if anyone deserves good things, it's her. And I have a feeling that there are many good things around the corner for her. 

 

Felicia, like I said to you before, my life is richer because you are my friend. Thank you for your wisdom, your humor, your generosity, and your loyalty. I hope you know how much you are loved.

Big hugs. Always.

Project 31 Day 27: A Word of Encouragement

Sheesh--it's been over two months since I tackled a Project 31 topic. Oh well. Sometimes that sort of thing happens despite our best efforts, eh? In any case, here we go again.

Day 27.  Write a blog to encourage someone and build their confidence.

So many names are popping into my mind right now. It seems that just about everyone I know who is a woman could do with a good dose of encouragement. I know I could. 

(Pause.)

I didn't think this through before starting. I hadn't really known this was the topic I would be tackling tonight, and although I've had many ideas of who to write this to (when I thought about it at the back of my mind since first starting the project), someone entirely different has taken up residence in my thoughts this evening, and as we all know when something like that happens, we ought to pay attention (don't we?).

So Miss Val, this one's for you.

The more I think about you, the more I wonder what in the world I could say to build your confidence.

After all, you're the one who has encouraged me, prayed for me, called me out on the truth of who I am, and called me up to the task of living out that truth--since the very first time we spoke. Do you remember it? Probably not, but I do. It was at a women's retreat a few years ago. You were ministering to many people at the same time, and with time, faces become fuzzy, words spoken in prayer fade from memory and take up residence in the heart of whoever the prayer was for, and time moves on.

But I remember. Not as clearly now as I used to, but I do remember this: You were one of the first people outside of my immediate circle of friends who encouraged me, without knowing much about me, to write. It was during the time in my life when the desire to do so was just beginning to peek its head through the hard soil of my timid heart, and perhaps you knew that somehow, because the words you spoke to me challenged me to break out of the self-protective barriers I had placed around myself, barriers that had kept me captive from the freedom that comes from living out my calling.

And not long after that, you met and befriended Joey and saw in him something special, something he didn't realize was there, something about which he was actually quite passionate. You called him out and called him up, encouraging him to take risks and be bold and discover and develop talents he had only dreamed about before then. You built him up in a way that no one had before.

These are only two examples, but I am certain there are countless others like these. I am certain of this because encouraging others is what you're about. It's who you are. You live your life in such a way that by simply being you, you encourage, build up, and inspire others to take a risk and see what happens when they start walking in their destiny.

I realize that we don't know each other very well (a fact that I very much hope will change), but what I do know of you, I admire. I respect. I enjoy. You are an example of what it means to be a confident, secure, vulnerable, and soft woman all at the same time. You are such a treasure, one that I'm sure God is jealous for, one that makes His heart smile with every thought He has for you.

In short, you matter. Your life matters. To me, yes, but to so many others as well. And tonight, may you sleep soundly in the peace that comes with knowing that.

Much love.

Choosing Joy

Why is it that things always seem worse in the shower? When there's something on my mind, the power of the thought is tenfold when I'm in there. Things seem their bleakest then, like there's no hope, and like the world will be crashing in around me as soon as I step out from behind the curtain. Maybe it's the complete aloneness of being in the shower that frees me to give my feelings room to just be for a moment. And giving them a moment to express themselves without reservation or judgement can be cathartic because, as soon as I step out of the shower, I discover that the world doesn't come crashing down. It keeps moving, spinning round and round, always pushing forward to what's next.



As is probably evident by now, my mind has been running circles around me for the past couple of days. In some moments, I'm completely fine, and in others, I am not.  Because of this, I've learned in a very practical way what it means to take my thoughts captive, to not let them have free reign to dance around my head, mocking me at every turn.

I've also learned what it means to choose joy.  When I choose joy, it doesn't mean that I'm immediately happy. When I choose joy, it doesn't mean that the other feelings disappear completely. What it does mean, though, is that in the middle of whatever it is I'm going through, whether it's worry or frustration or discouragement or whatever, I can take heart in the knowledge that there is more than what my eyes can see. Like Dr. Foth said at church this Sunday--things aren't always what they seem. To some, a stick in the hand of an 10-year-old boy might look like it's exactly that--just a stick, when really, it's something else (like a fishing pole, a light saber, or a baseball bat). What we see as circumstantial, ordinary, or just plain mundane--God sees it as something else. To take it a step further, what we see as difficult, painful, worrisome or fearful--God see it as an opportunity to grow our faith, expand our joy, and develop character (among other things, I'm sure).

So this week, I'm practicing choosing joy. I'm choosing to see beyond my circumstances, to focus my attention on truth, and to allow the peace that surpasses understanding do exactly that--surpass my understanding.

Coming to Terms with Change

I'm not big on change. In theory, I love it because it keeps life interesting. But in practice, it's tough for me to set aside what I know for something different. I suspect it's because I like routine. A lot.

I like getting up in the morning with an expectation of what the day will be like. I like doing things a certain way, I like traditions, and I like to know what's required of me (and when). I appreciate having plans well in advance. I like to be prepared for things beforehand, and routine helps me achieve that. But sometimes, as much as I thrive on routine, it gets a little boring.

Over the past few months, I've learned that experiencing something new isn't the hard part. Changing my routine is.

With routine comes security, assurance, constancy and comfort. When routine is thrown off, I often get grumpy or short-tempered, and I feel off-balance and "not myself."  (Look at babies--they're the same way.) But when the routine is all there is, when days become so predictable that it feels I've lived the same one over and over again for weeks, routine gets tiresome. Getting out and finding new things to see, do, or learn refreshes my spirit and makes me feel that I'm actually living, instead of just being passively alive.

And yet, change is still hard.  And change is just around the corner. Not just for me, but for many people I love, too. Some of the changes are hard to accept because we aren't really sure what to expect. When people move, when jobs change, when the things we know and have come to rely on are suddenly different, we start to feel like our whole world has shifted in some cosmic way, and we are left trying to hold on to something--anything--with which we are familiar.

And yet, even though these changes are difficult, they are good. Difficult doesn't always mean bad. In fact, very often, enduring difficulty produces the things that are the most beautiful, most precious parts of our lives. New and difficult changes are an opportunity to learn, grow, and enrich our lives.

Eventually, we'll grow accustomed to the new things we're about to experience. We'll have new routines, new traditions, and new memories. They will not replace the things that are important now; they will expand upon them and enrich them.

So, to those whose lives are changing in the coming weeks and months, to those who are preparing to begin something new, I hope you will welcome it and not resist it. I hope you will join me in taking the beautiful memories of the past with us. I hope we will go on to live our days steeped in who we are and what is important to us while also allowing the new places, new people, and new ideas to enrich our lives.

After all, aren't God's timing and purposes perfect? Difficult, yes. But good--and for our own good, right? As we yield to him, we gain so much, and perhaps we will realize that the things we feel we've lost aren't really lost after all.

 There is a time for everything, 

and everything on earth has its special season.

 There is a time to be born and a time to die.
    There is a time to plant and a time to pull up plants.
There is a time to kill and a time to heal.
   There is a time to destroy and a time to build.
There is a time to cry and a time to laugh.
    There is a time to be sad and a time to dance.
 There is a time to throw away stones and a time to gather them.
    There is a time to hug and a time not to hug.
 There is a time to look for something and a time to stop looking for it.
    There is a time to keep things and a time to throw things away.
There is a time to tear apart and a time to sew together.
    There is a time to be silent and a time to speak.
There is a time to love and a time to hate.
    There is a time for war and a time for peace.

Do people really gain anything from their work? 

I saw the hard work God has given people to do. 

God has given them a desire to know the future. 

He does everything just right and on time, 

but people can never completely understand what he is doing. 

So I realize that the best thing for them is to be happy 

and enjoy themselves as long as they live. 

God wants all people to eat and drink and be happy 

in their work, which are gifts from God. 

I know that everything God does will continue forever. 

People cannot add anything to what God has done, 

and they cannot take anything away from it. 

God does it this way to make people respect him.

 What happens now has happened in the past, 
and what will happen in the future has happened before.
       God makes the same things happen again and again. 

--Ecclesiastes 3: 1-15

Making Room for Writing

Well, here it is--the weekend, Saturday night. I admit it: I was feeling a bit down awhile ago because Joey was called into emergency surgery this evening, and Addie and I spent the majority of the night fighting over bedtime. (Yes, my eight month old picked a fight with me--and nearly won--over bedtime.) As I washed dishes and picked up the house, she was screaming, my back was aching, my head started to spin at the thought of the laundry list of things I had to get done in the next few weeks (real or imagined), and I began to feel guilty that I hadn't spent time writing in awhile, which turned into feeling like I was a big failure at life. (You know how the swirl happens.)

Addie eventually settled down, and not long after I managed to get the dishes dried and put away, it occurred to me that I had a quiet house all to myself, something which doesn't happen very often since we're living with my parents and my brother at the moment. I found myself confronted with, well, myself. Just me, no one else. Alone. I crave alone time, but I don't get much of it these days. It dawned on me that I could do whatever I wanted to tonight. I could even sit down and spend some time writing if I wanted to. But then suddenly I thought of a million reasons why I shouldn't write, the main one being the question, "What would I write about anyway?". I gave those reasons too much weight tonight, but the good news is that I overcame them. (You're reading the proof.)


This isn't the first time I've had to force myself to write. It probably won't be the last, either. It's not because I don't like writing, because I do. I love writing.  In fact, I often feel like it's one of the few places I feel the most comfortable in my own skin. Even so, making the time and space to write is a discipline because it feels frivolous to me sometimes, like I am whiling away the hours when there are a million other things I "should" be doing, and since writing is something I love doing, it must be unessential. 

But I know the truth: the truth is that it's not frivolous. It's not a waste of time. It's important, and I need to do it--even if it's only for myself. The problem is, I'm still figuring out what to write, exactly, which is why I often have to force myself to write. Believe it or not, a good majority of the posts I have collected here are the fruit of forcing myself to sit down and do the thing I love. More often than not, I don't plan what to write before I sit down to write it.

And yet, somehow when I set aside time to escape from the swirl of the world around me that never seems to stop otherwise, when I intentionally choose to give attention to the things that have been quietly clamoring for my attention, words begin to flow out of me, words that I wasn't aware of before, and that creates peace deep in my spirit because I know I am doing the thing that makes me come alive.

You would think that it would be easy to make the time for such a thing, right? The problem is, I've bought into the lie, the one that tells me that I have nothing to say, and even if I did, it wouldn't really matter. It's the same lie that makes me second guess myself, the one that tells me I'm unoriginal, ill-equipped, uninteresting.
  
I admit that I have let that lie cripple me. I wrote about it not so long ago, didn't I? The identity crisis I experienced was borne straight out of that. But I've come to realize that the lie was keeping me from being my true self, which is such a waste of a gift. Not using the gift that God gave me is just as good as handing it right back to Him and saying, "No, thanks," isn't it? It makes me think of instances when I have given a gift, one that I thought for sure the recipient would love to receive, only to find that they didn't love it, because if they did, they would have used it. Sure, they said plenty of "thank you's" and "I love it's" to make me feel like I gave a good gift, but isn't it so much more meaningful when the person to whom you give a gift puts it to visible use? When you give a friend a piece of jewelry, doesn't it make you happy to see her wearing it? Or when you give your brother a CD, don't you like it when you hear him listening to it?

In the same way, I want my life--writing or otherwise--to be an expression of gratitude to the One who gave me the gift, and I want to make Him smile when he sees me basking in the joy that comes from using it.

So, I guess that if I have to force myself to write once in awhile, so be it. It's better than not using my gift at all.

Ollalieberry Heaven

This one's for Molly, who asked me yesterday on our way to pick Ollalieberries if I had a good cobbler recipe. My answer? Why yes, Molly. I do.

Yesterday I ventured out to Watsonville with my dear friend Molly, her two cutie pie boys and my own little Addie. We were a sight, let me tell you. Two grown ups intent on picking full buckets of these sweet-tart berries while the kids were off in their own berry heaven world. Jake mastered the art of making jam out of berries and mud, and Tim battled a fear of bees and the urge to eat more than he picked, while Addie was happy to be outside and in the middle of it all.

The kids had such fun, we got an insanely big haul of Ollalieberries, and when we were leaving, Tim announced he was only going to have Ollalies for lunch. And then, not long after that, he begged to eat lunch at the King's Boogers (Burger King was the only kid-friendly place to stop for miles...) All in all, a perfect way to spend the first day of July.

So on to the recipe. Of course, I must admit it's not my own. I use the old Betty Crocker cookbook from 1950--and as far as I'm concerned, it may be the only recipe for cobbler I'll ever need. It's not healthy--not by a long shot. But it's perhaps one of the best desserts I've ever made. I tried this recipe over a year ago when my friends and I set out to cook our way through this old copy of the classic Betty Crocker cook book; sadly, we only got through a couple of weeks until the idea fizzled out. But the idea of this cobbler, hot from the oven with a scoop of good vanilla ice cream beside it, will never grow old to me.

Betty's Berry Cobbler

Ingredients
For the shortcake:
     2 cups sifted flour
     2 T sugar
     3 tsp baking powder
     1 tsp salt
     6 T shortening
     1 cup milk

For the fruit:
     2 cups sugar
     2 T cornstarch
     2 cups boiling water
     6 cups berries (blackberries, boysenberries or
     ollalieberries) mixed with 1 1/2 cups sugar
     1 T butter
     1 tsp cinnamon

Method (for the shortcake):
Stir together first 4 ingredients. Then add the shortening and cut in fine with a pastry blender. Stir in the milk to make a soft dough. Set aside.

For the fruit:
Mix together the sugar and cornstarch in a saucepan; gradually stir in the boiling water. Bring the mixture to a boil and keep it there for one minute, stirring constantly. Then add the berry/sugar combination.

Pour the fruit into a 9 x 13 baking dish. Drop spoonfuls of the shortcake onto the fruit nd then dot with butter. Sprinkle cinnamon on top (if desired). Bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes.

It's best served warm with ice cream, but that's a given, right?