Promises, Promises…

I made a promise to myself that I would re-boot my blog come September.

It’s August 31.

What’s a blog, anyway? Yeah, I know – “web log” – not what I mean. I mean, I see the purpose if I were advertising something: product or service. Or if I were an expert in something (hint: I’m not) and I was offering information. There is no big purpose – except I feel I’m supposed to. Yep. I “got a message from God!” Well. Not really. Rather an annoying habit of entering quotes, thoughts and experiences in the notes app on my iPhone. So many notes. I had to purchase more memory in the cloud.

I have nothing to share but my own experience. Do I hope I could give someone who reads my words some insight into their inner meaning? Sure. But I’ll be happy if I get a giggle.

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The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

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It’s been a month since I published my last blog post.

A hot, smokey, crazy-busy month.

Still no excuse.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m just NOT a summer person. It’s not the heat. I revel in a trip to Mexico and love soaking up the rays on a beach.

I think it’s the lack of structure.

Yep. Fall, for me. is the most wonderful time of the year. Anyone else agree?

I never got the whole New Year’s resolutions thing – January? Nah. September seems to be the best time to make a change. I have a few changes I want to implement in the next (best!) season.

Be gentler with myself. Now, I don’t mean be weak or undisciplined. I mean, own up and recognize that beating myself up over things isn’t going to improve matters. Walk softly into the next season. Be at rest. Believe that the person God made me is enough.

Be healthy. I’ve spent over 30 years on a diet. I’m not kidding. And let me tell you, it’s not about discipline or protein or fat or eating grapefruit every day of your life. I’m tired. Really, really tired. And what I want isn’t to be “thin” – meaning the societal image of what I should be. Rather I want to be healthy. I want to go on long walks and breathtaking hikes. I want to swim until my legs and my arms can’t go another lap. I want to eat colourful food. I want to cook beautiful meals. I want to share those meals with people I love. I want to be messy and create things. I want to glow and be a walking example of God’s gorgeous creation.

Be love (and be loved). I’ve wanted love for most of my life. Romantic or platonic. I’ve wanted to be accepted for who I am. Yet, God reminds me from time to time that love needs to come from within. I need to love myself. Just as I am. Flaws and fat and crinkly little lines around my eyes. When I’m angry and depressed or shaking with anxiety. I am still fearfully and wonderfully made. And in turn, I desire to love. Love with abandon. Generously. Even recklessly. To be a beacon to those who believe love has passed them by or rejected them. Love completely. All.

Lofty goals? Perhaps, but I can embrace these deeper than concrete rules for success – not that there’s anything wrong with them – but for me, sensitive, silly me? I’ve learned to walk a bit more softly through this world. Knowing I’m sinful and often broken and alway, always learning.

So, onward to autumn. Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling me into His deepest grace.

 

Quiet Sacredness

I can talk a lot. A lot, a lot. And often my talk veers towards the non-sensible. I can go off on tangents and loose focus and babble unceasingly.

I am saying nothing.

Yet, I am saying everything.

Where my words can be incessant chatter, my heart is crying out, “Please listen to me!” Listen to the cry of my heart to be heard. To be validated. That I am, despite all my failures, enough. My talk is communicating the deep cry within – my soul desperate to break free of shame.

My precious mom has said this to me for years: I am not portraying myself when I talk so much. When I strive and fight for acceptance. When I attempt to show my worth through words and intelligence and learnedness. I’m not the “me” she knows. Don’t get me wrong I can talk joyfully for hours about something that excites me, but when it’s about being seen as enough? It shows.

I am soon walking into my 48th year. And I am tired. Tired of trying to measure up. To be enough. Or to use the shame language of Dr. Brown, shadowed by the cultural expectation of a woman to be – Thin. Pretty. Un-opinionated. It’s not me. However, being  bullish and chatty isn’t me either.

Instead I’ve decided to embrace who God made me to be. Not thin, but curved and vibrant. Not pretty, per se, but sometimes plain, sometimes gorgeous. Rarely not opinionated, but always graceful. Listening. Thoughtful. Passionate.

And to embrace quiet. To grow comfortable with waiting for others to share. To be less anxious about sharing my opinions than hearing the ideas of others. To still myself. Live into thoughtful response. To be, finally, who God has created me to be.

The sacred mess transformed into a quiet sacredness.

I’d appreciate your prayers.
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