Brought to You by the Letter Z

Zen

I used to love to get massages, but the massage itself was only part of the bliss. I’d actually never had a massage before my joint troubles started, so it was often therapeutic, which translates into painful. But to walk into a room with dimmed lights, soothing colors and calming music… it felt like an escape. The warmed table and trickle of water from the fountain in the room, the fluffy robe and warmed oils…

… it’s the vision in my head when I think of the word Zen.

Just closing my eyes and imagining the scene, hearing the trickling fountain, actually relaxes me a little bit… but the same Zen feeling washes over me anytime water is involved. I think it’s the emotional connection that brings the Zen-like state. Some of my happiest memories have been by the water. Growing up and spending Sundays in the summertime waterskiing with my family, or spending a week over the Fourth of July vacationing with friends at Clear Lake… we were always happy. There was always food and laughter and the permission to be lazy.

I don’t remember how old I was when we got our first boat, but I do remember really wanting to try and ski. Like usual, they were telling me I was too little to do it… the skis would be too big, they’d be too heavy, it wouldn’t work. But when everyone else said it was a waste of time, my Dad said I could try. He hopped in the water with me and helped me put on my skis [wood instead of fiberglass so they weren't so heavy]. He stayed in the water because he figured I'd wipe out and need help, and then told me that when they gunned the engine I should just stand up.

So I did.

I held onto that rope and grinned like a fool… I ambled clumsily in and out of the wake... just trying to do all of the things I’d watched my older siblings do. But my favorite part of the memory is that I can still see mom FREAKING OUT when we went by the dock... she and her friend Sally were waving and screaming, and I skied one-handed while I waved back at her.

They finally yelled at me to let go of the rope because I would have kept skiing forever.

And while I’m sure my dad was proud, I have to imagine he was secretly hoping for a wipeout since the poor guy was still in the water the whole time I was skiing... just bobbing in the lake waiting for me to drop the rope so they could pick him up.

I learned how to put on my own skis pretty quickly after that.

Yes, the thought of water brings me to a place of Zen. It’s the warmth that eases the pressure in my joints as I take a long soak. It’s the image I get when I close my eyes and imagine that massage room with it’s soothing sound of a trickling fountain. It’s the contentment and joy that lightens my soul when I remember easy days with a happy family.

I miss spa rooms that provide instant serenity. I miss looking out at moonlight shimmering over the water, or the crisp mornings when the lake is like glass and the loons call out their welcome. But I love that I had it, and can recapture it… that Zen… simply by closing my eyes and breathing in the memories.

I hold my blessings close to me… and the feeling of Zen is the beautiful reward.

Brought to You by the Letter Y

So, Susie was over tonight [Sunday] to watch the two hour Brothers and Sisters movie event. Otherwise known as: two hours of a television show for which they needed a marketing angle. I’m happy to report it was worth the hype. And that next week’s episode looks just as good. :)

The point here is that this movie event started at 8:00, and while Susie was here in time to begin the show, we didn’t actually start watching until 9:40. The only excuse I can give you for this is that Susie is chatty.

Not me, of course. It was all Susie. :)

We originally had this bright idea that while she was here, she would write a guest post for you all today. But then “she” got chatty. And “she” may have even paused the show to chat. And when she left here after midnight, we realized that our deadline for posting had passed, and she needed to get her tush home to sleep so she could get up bright and early for work. Since I have the luxury of sleeping in I told her she could save her guest posting skills for another day.

Her original thought for today’s [Y] post, however, was going to be y’all. As in:

Y’all… we’re too busy watching a show to write a blog post right now.

So, I thought I would take that concept and run with it.

Y’all… I have held two newborn babies within the past week. Two. And, dear God, they were ridiculously cute. And sweet. And cuddly. And they smelled good. You’ll see one in tomorrow’s Gitz Bits and the other in next week’s edition. But I’m going to post them both right here, right now, because they are too sweet not to share twice:

Scrumptious Little Noah - 6 weeks

Smiley Little Joshua - 5 weeks

Y’all… I finally finished cutting Riley’s hair. It was done over the course of two weeks, in multiple stages. He may have gotten a bit tired of sitting through it, and he may have gotten feisty with me. He may have been annoyed because the hair on his legs was so matted he basically had doggy dreadlocks, which may or may not have made him want to bite at my hands.

Y’all… he definitely got in trouble for it. And I may have snapped a photo.

Y’all… that is going to be my favorite picture of Riley until the day I die.

Y’all… I’m going to end this with some very exciting news. Today, at around 4:30 or so, my friend Alece is going to be walking through my door. My mom is picking her up from the airport and bringing her here to stay for the week!

Y’all… it’s really happening. This friend I made while she was running her Thrive Africa mission, this friend who I never imagined getting to see in person as most of her life is spent on another continent, this friend just so happened to have a wedding to attend. In Iowa. Only a few hours from me. And now I get to hang out with her for the whole week!

Y’all… I’m so lucky to have started this blog. And to have made such good friends. I am so blessed to get to spend my days with you. Y’all are the best!

Don’t forget to hit me up with some [Z] suggestions in the comment section!

Brought to You by the Letter X

Ok… it’s time for the dreaded letter [X]!!!! Before we get there, though…

Truth: I’ve been a bit uncharacteristically emotional the last few days. Not because it’s the holiday or anything – I actually had a lovely time with great friends who came over for lunch on Sunday, and their kids schooled me on the Wii. Literally. I’d never played before and they got a great laugh at how inept I am!

No one can run a Mario Cart into the wall like I can. :)

No, I just think there are those wisps of time when a person has to sit in the pain of it for a moment. Even me… the girl who hates sitting in anything but the joy. I miss outside. I miss going to church. I miss not seeing my friends’ kids play, and I want to visit their new homes and be a part of things. I’m struggling so much with this new view in the mirror and I’m struggling most because I have no patience for struggling!

I like being strong.

Seriously.

I know this will pass as soon as I get some rest… I really only get emotional when I’m exhausted, and that’s where last week’s allergic reaction and crazy amounts of Benadryl have left me. But sometimes, there are good reminders in the sad stuff, too.

That’s why [X] is going to stand for X-Marks-The-Spot.

You know how, on a treasure map, the trunk of gold and spoils is always marked with an X? Or how those signs in the mall that say “You Are Here” give you a red X to find your location?

The marking is there to let us know where we are, or where we would like to be. It shows us what we want to know. Where our heart lies. It shows us the treasure.

I listened to a song by Selah recently that is a good reminder about how He has marked an X on each of us. Whether we remember to go to Him or not, he’s left an impression on our hearts. He knows our location. He knows where our heart lies. He knows we are His treasure. Because of that, we are never alone no matter how isolated we may be.

This line in the song was the reminder for me this Easter: I would never stake my life on any lesser thing than the cross of Christ where He gave His life to ease my suffering. If there’s one thing I know, you were never left alone… because you can always call on Jesus’ name.

Here’s the song One Thing I Know, in case you need to hear it today, too.

Because He has left an X to mark the spot on each of our hearts.

09 One Thing I Know by gitzengirl

Ok, [Y] should be much easier on the suggestion front! Throw them at me in the comment section :)

Brought to You by the Letter W

Ok, before we start in on the [W] word for this week… let’s all acknowledge the fact that it won’t be WIN. :) But I’m so proud of my Panthers and love that we had such a winning season! Thanks for rooting with me, peeps… I loved all the messages on Twitter!!!

Now… onto today’s word:

Wistful

There is nothing better than that moment, right before the spring of the year officially hits, when sunshine suddenly begins peeking through the clouds. It begins to rain more than it snows and, like magic, green grass appears from under the layers of frozen ice. The brown, wilted grass that was first covered in white flakes springs forth in a subtle green after so many months of being frozen, and then hydrated by the melting drifts.

It’s so hopeful.

And I was a bit surprised by myself that this year, it’s made me a little wistful.

I’m so used to being inside all of the time these past few years… it honestly doesn’t bother me that much anymore. I no longer catch myself thinking that I should open the windows and get some fresh air in the house. I don’t randomly wonder if I should go out to start the car [that’s no longer in the garage] to make sure the battery hasn’t died. I don’t even catch myself thinking I should walk down the hall to fetch the mail.

I’m totally used to life existing in these four walls.

But now that the sunshine is peeking out and I see people in the parking lot with just a sweatshirt or a spring jacket, I feel a bit wistful. I close my eyes and imagine myself stepping out onto my patio for just a moment to feel that sunshine… to see the glow of orange on the inside of my eyelids that only happens when my face is turned upward toward the sunlight. Suddenly the memory of it seems a little weak compared to what the reality would bring me.

I kept thinking all winter that I couldn’t wait for the grey skies to fade away and reveal that brilliant blue… for the snow drifts to melt and my hasta to grow so I’d have a good reason to open the curtains. But I find myself keeping my bamboo shades drawn, allowing me to see outside, but with a barrier in between. Some part of me knows that if I open them wide and take in the view, I’m going to go from wistful to wanting.

Riley understands the feeling.

I thought I was past all of that, but then realized that last summer wasn’t so much about acceptance as it was inability. I was too sick to keep my eyes open. I was in too much pain to move, let alone walk into this room and open the shades. I kind of missed the existence of summer altogether, and by the time I could move the snow had already fallen. So, I find myself a bit wistful for walks with the pup and long afternoons of reading on my patio.

But before long, I am sure, I will be opening the shade and trying to keep Riley from disrupting the entire building as he barks at the birds and tries to leap through the window at the passersby. We will adjust as we always do and the sunshine will just be that thing beyond the window.

For now… we’ll keep our wistful barrier up and wait for the day I open the shade without thinking of stepping out onto the other side of the door. Riley, on the other hand, will always believe he will someday make it beyond the boundary of his window.

I do admire his spunk. :)

People, we are almost done with the alphabet! How crazy is that?!?! Leave me an [X] suggestion for next week’s post in the comment section… and also let me know if you’d like to start the alphabet over again or if I should try to come up with a new way of you all suggesting topics.

I’m always open to ideas! :)

Brought to You by the Letter V

Victory!!!

Ok, even I can’t believe I used this photo to represent the letter [V]. I hate mice with such a passion that it makes me squirm just seeing the trap. Growing up on a farm means I have more memories of these traps than I’d like to admit… but the photo seemed apropos because it not only has a “V” image, but it quite nearly spells my word for the day.

That’s right. We’re all about VICTORY around here right now. And if you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you have a very clear idea what I’m talking about.

Because I’ve been bragging. A lot.

Iowa has three state universities, University of Iowa, Iowa State University and the University of Northern Iowa. That last one, UNI, is my alma mater. I still live in Cedar Falls, where it’s located, and where we all bleed purple and gold.

It’s also the forgotten university. Iowa and Iowa State get all the press. They are considered the in-state rivals. But now the world knows:

The UNI Panthers should not be underestimated.

Our men’s basketball team has played out of their minds this season. We won the Missouri Valley Conference, went on to beat UNLV in the first round of March Madness, and Saturday night we did what so many thought was unthinkable.

We beat the number one seed, Kansas, and are moving on to the Sweet Sixteen. Us. Little old UNI. The forgotten university. The fun part: knowing we won’t be forgotten again after destroying everyone’s brackets!

Ahhhh… it’s so fun to brag sometimes! I have to tell you, this has been so exciting not only for our town, but for all the alums. Everyone I talked to last night after the game said the same thing: “I can’t stop shaking!” Hours after the game was over and we should have been calmed down… someone would call and say, “We just beat Kansas!” and the giddy laughter would start all over again. We are enjoying this moment for all it’s worth.

My friend Candy, when trying to come down from the high of the win, said that she was trying to remember it was just a basketball game. But around here, I have to tell you, it feels like more than just basketball at the moment. It feels great to have a group of kids keeping things in perspective. Savoring their moment. Looking ahead to the next challenge and believing that anything is possible. Knowing that, as much as we have some stars, we’ve gotten this far because the team is bigger than any individual.

It’s always a good day to be a Panther. But this week, it’s been just a little more fun. :)

Don’t forget to leave me a suggestion for next Monday’s [W] topic. But if we beat Michigan State this coming Friday, I can’t guarantee I won’t go with WIN as the topic regardless of your suggestions. :)

Brought to You by the Letter U

Unrequited:

1. not returned or reciprocated: unrequited love.
2. not avenged or retaliated: an unrequited wrong.
3. not repaid or satisfied.

Man, [U] was a hard one to decide on. I can’t say any of the suggestions jumped out at me, but I suppose that’s the fun of this A 2 Z concept… it’s supposed to be a challenge. :)

I’ve talked with a few people lately about forgiveness and the struggle so many have with the concept of forgiving, of letting go, of accepting what has been. Does it mean that we are saying what was done to us is ok? Does it mean that we are saying they are right and we are wrong? Does it mean that we have to put ourselves back in the same position and hope for the best that history won’t repeat itself?

For me, the answer to all of those questions is no. I think one of the hardest things about forgiveness is that the person who has been wronged often has to leave the issue unrequited. Whatever was done that requires forgiveness often leaves us broken or empty, and sometimes those feelings weren’t validated. And perhaps still aren’t. As much as our deepest desire is sometimes to retaliate for being hurt, that’s not what forgiveness is all about. Oftentimes, even when matters are resolved to the best of the abilities of those involved, the injured party is still left feeling unsatisfied. Unrequited.

Being wronged hurts. Speaking forgiveness is sometimes easy, but truly feeling it is often hard… because we often have to decide if we’d rather be right, or if we’d rather be happy. If we’d rather hold onto our righteous hurt, or if we’d rather extend grace. Let’s be honest… we’re human… it’s our impulse most of the time to hold on rather than leave ourselves unrequited.

I was given a whole new clarity about forgiveness when I came across this phrase years ago:

Forgiveness is giving up the possibility of a better past.

Yep. It impacted me enough to put it on my Wall of Doodles.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? We hold onto things because they are unrequited. Because they hurt us. Because they never should have happened in the first place. Because we want to go back to the time before we were hurt and make it not happen. We want a better past.

But that’s not possible.

Life happened.

The possibility for a better past just doesn’t exist. But the possibility for a better future is available to each and every person who is still breathing. We can let go of the hurt and the anger and the need to once again say, “But I was right!” Each and every one of us has the opportunity to decide that our future will be better than our past. And we have the opportunity to give someone else the grace to know that, too… by extending forgiveness. By doing as Christ has done for each of us over and over and over again.

Imagine if He looked as us and said, “But I was right,” instead of, “But you are Mine.”

Letting go of the possibility of a better past means that a better future is possible… but that doesn’t always mean both people will choose that path. There are people in my life who I have forgiven, knowing the past cannot change. But some of those people choose to live out the same actions over and over. They have the possibility for a better future, but they are choosing not to take it. I can forgive them without walking back into unhealthy situations. I can forgive them, and still choose not to play the game. I hope someday they will choose a better future, and I will cheer them on if they do. In the meantime, I care about them from a distance so I don’t participate in what is as unhealthy for them as it is for me. I think, just like God does with us, we can stay where we are when they move away. And still be here when they choose to come back.

I have a very good memory. My friend Susie often says that I’m her memory as well, since I remember details of her world she sometimes forgets. So, for me, saying I’ll forgive and forget isn’t really practical. I once had someone tell me they knew forgiveness was real in them when they could remember what had been done to them without feeling like they did when it happened. That has been true for me, too. I don’t forget. And I think it’s good to remember in order to not put myself back in harmful situations. I have to remember in order to learn from things. But when I remember without feeling the sadness or hurt or pain, then it’s just a memory. It’s a past that can’t be changed for the better, followed by a future that can.

I’ve learned that leaving things unrequited can be a beautiful gift. It means they can be left where they belong so forgiveness can be given, received and cherished.

We’re already up to [V], people!!! Leave me a topic suggestion in the comments and I’ll be [v]ery happy to accept the challenge for next Monday. :)

The only thing this next bit has to do with being unrequited is that I want this cd by Adie and I won’t be satisfied until I have it. :) My friend Jessica sat down with her friend Adie Camp, who has an amazing new cd being released on Tuesday. It’s such a gift to be able to hear from the heart of an artist before you hear her lyrics and melodies. Jess is giving away 5 cds… so go to her post here and enter to win!!!

Flashback Friday: Me? Mischievous? Malarkey!

Way back in December, when I was asking you all to give me [M] suggestions for an old A 2 Z post, Ed thought mischievous would be an excellent word for me to expound upon.

Of course, anyone who reads the comment section knows he was really touching on the topic because of his own personal experience with the word, right Ed? ;)

I actually thought of writing about it, but realized my own vision of my younger, saintly self might be skewed. So, I went directly to the source. I called my mother.

Me: Mom, would you say I was ever mischievous as a child?

Mom: I can say with 100% certainty that you were whatever word is the polar opposite of mischievous.

Ahhh… vindicated once again.

Seriously, though, I was born with the Catholic guilt gene firmly in place long before anyone explained the concept to me. Or put a nun’s veil on my head for a photo op. To disappoint mom or dad was so much worse than having them be angry. Not that I would have handled them being angry that well, either. I don’t remember ever saying no to my parents. I don’t remember ever yelling at anyone in my life. Well, I’d yell for my brothers to stop if they were tickling me or dunking me under the water… but that was more out of desperation than anger. I don’t ever remember being sent to my room, and I was shocked when I stayed at my Aunt Mary’s house and my cousin was grounded… I didn’t even know that existed.

I remember being in junior high, riding the bus home with my friend Katie, and she kept trying to get me to swear… just whisper it in her ear. People, the guilt over considering it almost ate me alive. I can remember another time, clear as day, when I thought my brother Steve was trying to get me to do his chores by mowing the front lawn. So I refused. But when my other brother said Mom had told him to have me do it, I felt so bad that I sat at the table in our sun room and told my parents he had done my job for me.

Steve didn’t rat me out. I ratted out myself. And, being young, I didn’t understand the look that passed between Mom and Dad. I now know it to be a look of, “What is wrong with this child?”

But then a day of clarity came. And it about sent me through the roof.

After I was in college, the whole family was home for a holiday weekend. All five of my older siblings and a couple of my in-laws were sitting around the dining room table when stories began to be told.

Stories of my brother and sister going behind the barn to smoke cigarettes. Stories of them sneaking out to parties. Stories I certainly had no knowledge of. And stories that had my mother saying, “Stop. I don’t want to hear another thing!” Which, of course, made the stories get bigger and grander. :)

WHO WERE THESE PEOPLE?

Naive, gullible me thought that all these years I was living up to my older siblings’ examples. Come to find out, they were setting examples I knew nothing about!

[Before I go on, I’d like to clear my sister Laura’s name… she was born with the guilt gene, too. And wanted to know where in the world she was when the barn smoking was happening.]

What prompted this post, you may ask? The fact that my friend Brandi had to hang a list of off-limit words on her fridge so her boys would know what wasn’t allowed in their home. And the fact that I use most of those words on a daily basis.

Plus a few that her boys know nothing about yet.

Tonight on Twitter, after I replied to a comment saying “That’s the freakin’ story of my life,” Brandi let me off the hook for the use of my off-limit word by saying Iowa was too far away for her to use her Sassy Sauce on my tongue. And I was just a little relieved that my streak of never being grounded, sent to my room or having endured any sort of Sassy Sauce was left unbroken.

And considering I now have a history of swearing in church for all to hear, it’s a good thing the only boss of me is Riley. Because if he wants treats in his future, he’ll let my indiscretions go by unnoticed.

Brought to You by the Letter T

TRAVESTY: imitation or parody for the purpose of ridicule; a grotesque or ludicrous representation.

It’s a TRAVESTY.

A travesty, I tell you.

It must be a grotesque or ludicrous representation that the Pioneer Woman had a contest for the cutest dog photo and my dog didn’t make the cut.

I KNOW.

I’ve spent the entire weekend consoling the blog mascot. I’ve had to remind him every 15 minutes that yes, he is the blog dog to beat all blog dogs. I convinced him that he was left un-chosen just so the other dogs wouldn’t feel bad about themselves.

Because really, any other photo submission has to be a sad imitation compared to this face:

or this one:

Not to mention his good personality:

and killer smirk:

Ok, between you and me, there were some pretty dang cute dog pictures over on the Pioneer Woman’s photography site this weekend. But the next time you see Riley, be sure you follow the company line. Because as far as we’re concerned, not having this face make the cut:

Is a TRAVESTY!

I’ll let you know when he comes out of hiding due to his grief at being overlooked.

Poor thing.

Ok, leave a [U] topic suggestion in the comments, and I’ll try to tone down the sarcasm by next week! :)

Brought to You by the Letter S

Songs

Ok, total honesty here. I had an idea earlier to write about different songs that have meant something to me at different times in my life. Funny ones, sentimental ones, nonsense ones that are probably only funny to me.

But as the day has gone on, I’ve decided I’m either feeling a weather front coming through or I was up and around too much this weekend. Because my body is saying ouch and my head is saying “impending migraine.”

Lucky for me, I have one song that I recorded back in the day that I haven’t shared with you yet. You remember how I went in the studio and had enough money to record one song after another, without any breaks or being able to go back and fix what I didn’t like?

This is the song I wanted to go back and fix something on.

The thing that sucks is that it was my FAVORITE song to sing, and anyone from St. Stephen’s who is reading this will already know what song I’m talking about.

So, for your listening pleasure, here is my recording of On Holy Ground… the part that will not be your listening pleasure are the two flat notes that make me cringe. Please just ignore them and enjoy the rest. :)

03 Holy Ground by gitzengirl

Don’t forget to leave ideas for a [T] topic in the comments! [and no wisecracks about the flat notes :)]

Brought to You by the Letter R

Road Trip

I’ve learned to savor anticipation. The good kind, of course. The bad kind of anticipation I’m learning to let go of, but the good kind… the moments of anticipating the excitement and joy and newness of life… I’m learning to live in those moments. Even if what I’m anticipating never comes to fruition.

Because, as they say, the joy is in the journey.

To say that everything in my world has to line up in perfect order for plans to materialize is a grand understatement. Like the road trip the Turner’s were going to make to visit me at Christmas… we needed perfect weather, perfect health, perfect timing. What we got was a country-wide blizzard, the flu for Matthew and a bad cold that stuck with Jessica for weeks. We didn’t get to meet in person and talk ourselves hoarse, but I got an amazing gift out of their not-to-be road trip.

I was the recipient of their love, kind hearts, amazing intentions and weeks of giddy anticipation waiting for their arrival. That means I had weeks of waking up smiling at the thought of people caring enough about me to go hours out of their way just to say hi. Not to mention that they were exposing themselves to the ear-piercing squeals of a dog whose head explodes when company walks through the door.

Now, I have TWO road trips planned for this spring. While I’m obviously not going anywhere, I have people planning to hit the road to see me. In April, my dear friend Alece is going to be knocking on my door. This lovely soul who I met online is a missionary in Africa… which meant I was pretty sure we’d never meet face to face. But not only is she now on a respite here in the States, she happens to have a wedding to go to … IN IOWA. Two of her interns in Africa are getting married in a town only a few hours from me, and while I’m totally letting them borrow her for the wedding, I am then claiming the rest of her Iowa experience.

That means her Iowa experience will be limited to my condo, but she doesn’t seem to mind. :)

In just the last week or so, ANOTHER Iowa road trip has been planned for May. Mandy [from Texas] and Amie [from Louisiana] are friends I’ve met through blogs and twitter… and while Mandy has many times mentioned road tripping it to see me, I never dreamed of holding her to it. But now they’re coming!!! How insane is that? She and Amie, and possibly a few others, are hopping in a car and driving 12 hours to spend a weekend here with me and the pup. Since the condo is not that exciting of a place, I’m thinking of renaming it something like “Gitzapalooza” just so it at least sounds more impressive when they tell their friends where they’re going. :)

I used to love a good road trip. Whether I was getting ridiculously lost with friends on our way back from Notre Dame, or heading to Lilith Fair with the girls for a day of amazing music, or simply heading across the state to watch a piano recital for my niece… it was always an adventure that produced memories, and resulted in hugs and laughter and breaks from the every day chaos. Now, I savor the planning instead of the journey, and I’m grateful to be the destination instead of the starting point. I’m no longer hopping in the car to make things happen. I’m sitting at home, overwhelmed by the notion that people want to hop in a car to see me. I’m savoring the emails and the twitter conversations as we plan and plot and anticipate what’s coming.

I’m enjoying the trip of growing and cementing relationships with people as we plan to meet… before they even hit the road. Because whether the road part happens or not, the trip has already begun. And I’m savoring every moment.

Have any good [S] topics for me to write about next week? Leave your suggestion in the comments and I’ll see what I can come up with!

Brought to You by the Letter Q

Quixotic: idealistic without regard to practicality

It should surprise no one that this word suggestion came from my friend Gail, a retired librarian. :) I had to look it up for the exact definition since the only thing I knew about quixotic is that it was probably in reference to Don Quixote tilting at windmills.

While I have never had to slay imaginary giants in windmill form, I do understand the imagination that would take him there. It was just a year or so ago, during a conversation I was having with Susie, that I realized not all people are visual thinkers. My life is a constant movie in my head… if you’re in the car talking to me on your way home, I’m visualizing you in the car with the cell to your ear. If you’re telling me a story, I am seeing it play out in my mind down to what I think you are wearing and your detailed surroundings.

To me, life is one big story. And the details make it count. It takes imagination to make that happen, but I do find myself to be quixotic in the area of being idealistic as well. Unless proven otherwise, [and it usually has to be proven to me repeatedly] I’m going to give people the benefit of the doubt. I’m going to assume you are telling the truth, I’m going to believe your story, I’m going to know that even when you hurt me, your intentions were honorable.

I’m also going to be idealistic about your abilities. Sometimes the most amazing accomplishments happen in impracticable circumstances. That’s why I rarely think the wrong choice is to step out on a limb and try. Write your book, record your music, take the new job or move to a different city. Walk up to a person you’ve never met and say hello if you feel drawn to do so. Every choice may not be practical, but the outcome of stepping out in faith can be ideal. Friendships can be forged, people can be influenced, successes could be found around the next corner.

And if all those things don’t work, I’m idealistic about the next step you’ll make. Because sooner or later all of those stepping stones will lead you to where you need to be. Few of the big decisions in life are practical, but even the hardest things can turn out to be ideal given the right circumstances.

I guess the other thing that makes me think I’m quixotic is that my imagination is often better than the reality, just like Don Quixote’s giants were more interesting to slay than windmills. When someone is telling me about their tropical vacation, my mind is right there with them as if I had the moment myself. My excitement over a friend’s good fortune is as fun as if the fortune was mine… because while I’m not there, my mind is. My imagination is. My whole heart can see and feel and experience what isn’t actually right in front of me.

I think that’s why I keep the blinds on my windows closed more than open. Open, I know that right outside my walls are rows of garages. Closed, I can imagine myself anywhere I want to be. I can pretend that beyond my window is the view of the farm growing up, or the lake outside my uncle’s house in Brainerd. I can be back enjoying the afternoon at Clear Lake or see my friends’ kids playing in their backyards. There’s a childlike imagination that never leaves when you’re quixotic. There’s an optimism that can’t be crushed when you believe in the ideal instead of the practical. There’s a happiness that can be ever-present if you choose the joy that’s always deep inside.

Go ahead. Call me a Pollyanna. I’m ok with it. :)

Ok… leave your suggestions for an [R] topic in the comment section!

Brought to You by the Letter P

Phone

Or, phone-less might be more appropriate for this one.

I spent the majority of the day today [Sunday] without phone, cable or internet. I’m not sure what happened to Mediacom, because I had no way of calling to find out if it was a wide-spread issue or something restricted to my direct vicinity. Because, you know, of the whole phone-not-working issue. And the whole, how-would-I-look-up-their-number-if-I-could-call-them dilemma without access to the internet.

Oh, that’s right! Someone invented the phonebook a long time ago. I might be slightly addicted to technology.

Regardless, I just had to wait. And be patient. And not talk to anyone.

Suddenly, I wanted to talk to everyone. It’s always like that, isn’t it? I most likely wouldn’t have wanted to pick up the phone all day today, but the minute I couldn’t I felt like I must.

The truth is, I intentionally don’t call my friends on the weekends. It’s that coveted time when they get to be home with their kids and their husbands. Either they’re running around to one of many sporting events or parties, headed out of town to visit family or simply enjoying some down time around the house… doing some cleaning or laundry or kicking back for movie time with the kids. Whether they’re busy or not, to me it’s family time and I think that is so rare anymore that I like to leave them uninterrupted.

That, of course, is intentional. But I realized something about myself a few weeks ago… that I had made a change, but not consciously. The change: I rarely call anyone anymore. It’s not because I don’t think about them, or want to talk to them and see how they are. I think it’s because I live in such a separate world now, I don’t want to infringe on theirs.

When I was busy, out and about, and multitasking like everyone else, I picked up the phone and called without thinking. We were all busy and catching each other when we had a minute. Calling from the car or work or whatever… it was just natural. But then their lives kept being busy, and mine virtually came to a stand still.

To enter their world again I was a bit like Alice, going down the rabbit hole into Wonderland.

I would want to call and then would look at the clock, thinking: Oh, they’re still at work… they’re probably making dinner… the kids are in the middle of needing help with homework… I think they had a basketball game tonight… I don’t want to interrupt bedtime – that’s always a tough ritual. I know their lives, their routines, their habits, because I used to live it with them. And now I don’t want to interrupt the carefully timed schedules that are required to work if their families are going to function well and peaceful and on time.

Trust me when I say this was my unconscious change, not theirs, and I don’t think it’s either good or bad… just different, as my life has become different. But there is one change that inevitably occurred as well, one that I absolutely love.

I am always here when they call.

I’m the friend that gets the call after an exasperating meeting, or when something ridiculously funny happens in the school pickup line or one of their kids says something so intensely cute they want to tell someone so they won’t forget it.

I get the calls about the tantrum a child had when the parent needs to walk away. I know about the rude look the cashier gave at the grocery store or am the person they call to waste time with while their child is finishing up a gymnastics class. I get to be on the other end of the phone during the details of life… the ones that everyone else who is also busy has to miss. The details I’m always available to hear and share.

My phone habits have changed, but I think I like it. I know that even if I can’t find the right time to jump down the rabbit hole into the Wonderland my friends now inhabit, they pull me in when they want to share. And the phone means I’m always able to leap into whatever situation they find themselves, and live life right along with them.

Don’t forget to leave a suggestion for next Monday’s [Q] topic in the comments!

Brought to You by the Letter O

Ordinary Miracles

Look at everything as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time. Then your time on earth will be filled with glory.
                                                                     - Betty Smith

Sometimes I wonder how changed my vision would be if I had never gotten sick. I have no doubt the core of me would be the same… I would still be compassionate and kind and, some would say, ornery. I know I would have a heart of gratitude, but I’m sure I wouldn’t be as aware of the little things.

Sometimes, when someone is sitting in the chair across from me or are sitting cross-legged on my floor, it will suddenly occur to me that they don’t feel their body. They get up or lay down or sit still without giving a thought to how they are going to manage any of those things. And I am amazed. Because I have actually forgotten that living without that awareness is possible. Sitting without feeling every part of my body is not something I can remember… mostly because I never stopped to notice when I had the chance. I thought it was ordinary, but in truth it was a miracle.

There are so many little ordinary miracles. There are times when, out of the blue, I’ll notice that I’ve been breathing without thinking… something that doesn’t happen for me every day. I can’t breathe deep, but when I am breathing easily it’s not something I do without noticing anymore. I’m amazed at the difference the air purifier has made and find myself consciously appreciating sitting still and simply breathing. It’s ordinary, but it’s also a miracle.

Isn’t it funny that when a baby suddenly finds their hand and are mesmerized by it’s motion, we all sit and are mesmerized at it as well? Or when their giggle over an inanimate object becomes so contagious, we suddenly notice the object again for the first time, too? The ordinary in our lives gets overlooked because it seems to have always been there… seems as though it always will be. Until we look again with new eyes and see the miracle in the ordinary all around us.

My life changing as it has certainly changed my vision. Watching people in Haiti who were going about their normal lives suddenly living in what must feel like a war zone changes my vision. Realizing there are homeless living in the cold who had jobs a year ago changes my vision. It doesn’t mean I need to feel guilty for what I have, but it does mean I need to be consciously aware. To not take the simple things for granted.

I want to remember to not just give thanks for the extraordinary moments in my life… the times when I am overwhelmed by grace. I want to be grateful for the ordinary. The basics. The mundane that we assume will always be present. I want to remember to look with eyes that see the ordinary as miracles, so my life can be filled with glory.

Don’t forget to leave a comment with a [P] topic suggestion for next week!

Brought to You by the Letter N

Needy

We’ve all been there, right? We have a needy child or spouse [well, I don’t, but you might], a needy boss or neighbor [ok, I might be the needy neighbor]. We feel needy when we think we’re neglected. We need new technology, just the right outfit, a long overdue manicure, the bigger house that suits our idea of success.

We are needy, needy people.

Except, we’re not. Even in this economy, most people reading this have a roof over their head, food in their fridge and clothes on their backs. At the very least, you’re in a place that has a computer and internet access. Which means we are spoiled rotten rich.

This isn’t one of those “guilt you into appreciating your life” posts. I swear. It’s just a reality check post.

Tonight on Twitter @machroi posted this: “The poor aren’t on earth for us to think, ‘Phew, how blessed am I that it’s not me.’” I’ve got to tell you, it hit me in the gut. I am the first to tell you I realize how blessed I am. I have everything I could possibly need and then some, despite my health and disability status. There are so many who struggle more than me.

Phew. How blessed I am it’s not me.

Ugh. Instead of making that statement, I should be asking a question. What am I doing about all those who aren’t me? Those who don’t have family and friends and disability payments. It’s not enough to be grateful and go about my business…

This coming Sunday, my friend Matthew is going to be traveling to Uganda for World Vision. I love his heart and we are so lucky that we can take this trip with him… read his stories, see his pictures, get a real view of the need and what we can do to help. You’ll notice on the left-hand side of my blog there are two buttons you can put on your site to help promote his trip and open more eyes to the needs of these kids. Just copy the code in the box and paste it onto your own sidebars… they will connect people to his blog posts about the trip. It will be life changing for him, for us who read, and for so many kids who need us to listen, and then speak out.

I’m including a post of Matthew’s below so you can get more of a feel for what he’ll be doing.

A Needy Soul

There was a time when it was easy for me to look at pictures of children in need and become numb. Honestly, just writing that sentence makes me want to vomit. But for me, that's often been the case. Perhaps I'm the only one who's sometimes guilty of letting his "spiritual gift for cynicism" break into areas where cynicism is unwelcomed or incorrect or unhelpful.

But I doubt I'm alone.

We're inundated with pictures of little faces similar to that of Janet's. And because we've seen so many pictures and seen the commercials on television and heard everybody from Third Day to Bebo Norman to Margaret Becker to Amy Grant to many others stand on stages and speak about organizations like World Vision and Compassion International, maybe our numbness to the pictures is understandable.

But when the organization is reputable and good, which I know firsthand World Vision and Compassion International to be, every one of those pictures that we are numb to aren't simply ads or ways to generate collateral or cute/sad/curious/emotionless faces hoping to win our good graces...

Each of those little faces are souls.

Souls.

Like you and me.

Souls like Elias who I love and call my own.

Souls like my wife, pastor, and friends who I'd do anything in the world for.
The picture above is Janet, one of the needy souls from Uganda.

Jessica and I sponsor three souls: Carlos (from Nicaragua who's struggling through those awkward middle school years. I've had the pleasure of meeting Carlos, and actually wrote a little about that experience in Relearning Jesus), Shilpi (from Bangladesh who is almost 11 and has grown like a foot since we first began sponsoring her. She also shares a birthday with Jessica.), and Maya (from India who is 8 and has sent us many beautiful pictures that she has colored for us).

And because of Carlos, Shilpi, and Maya, I no longer look at the photographs on the cover of World Vision packets the same as I once did.

When Jessica and I got married in 2004, one of our goals as a couple was to live simply and to use what we have to serve other people in various capacities. Some months/years we have done that well; other times we've failed miserably. But so far, by the grace of God, we've managed to always somehow find our way back to that original goal.

While Carlos, Shilpi, and Maya don't in anyway represent "fulfillment" of that goal to us, they are a part of it--and a very significant part. Why? Because it's often their faces and letters and stories and the coloring pictures they send us that remind us of our prayer for simplicity and service.

Pursuing that prayer isn't always easy.

As some of you know, 2008 and much of 2009 were financially difficult years for Jessica and me. No threat of homelessness or somebody coming and taking our car away; however we experienced several months in that time frame when we wondered how on earth we were going to pay our mortgage or electric bill or for another can of Elias's formula.

While Jessica and I never mentioned this aloud to each other, I'd be lying if I didn't say that, on occasion, I wondered if we should de-sponsor Carlos or Shilpi or Maya. Selfish, I know. But thankfully, we didn't do that. Instead, we started thinking of ways we wasted money: so we dropped cable (haven't had it since), stopped eating out (and only rarely do it now), stopped daily trips to Starbucks (I might go once a week now), and we decided to keep Elias home a day or two a week to save on daycare. Also, Jessica began clipping coupons and began reading bargain blogs to learn new/better ways to save money; she also started using things like Swagbucks. It was still hard some months. But somehow it worked...

And I can't help but believe that once again God used the faces, stories, letters, and coloring pictures of Carlos, Shilpi, and Maya to help Jessica and I experience a more profound (harder perhaps) answer to our prayer to live even simpler...

Jessica and I know that our financial support helps Carlos, Shilpi, and Maya.
But it also helps Jessica and me.

Though I would never suggest that this is true for everybody, I do believe that, as much as Carlos, Shilpi, and Maya need us... we also need them.

Because like Janet, I am a needy soul...

And perhaps you are, too...

The little faces from Uganda that you will see when you click on the link below are all souls who need help on some level. And you're a needy soul who needs to help them...

CLICK HERE TO SPONSOR A CHILD FROM UGANDA

Richard Stearns, the president of World Vision wrote these words in his book The Hole in Our Gospel:
“Proclaiming the whole gospel, then, means much more than evangelism in the hopes that people will hear and respond to the good news of salvation by faith in Christ. It also encompasses tangible compassion for the sick and the poor as well as biblical justice, efforts to right the wrongs that are so prevalent in our world…The whole gospel is truly good news for the poor, and it is the foundation for a social revolution that has the power to change the world.”

Thanks, everyone, for taking the time to read about this… if you want to follow Matthew’s journey next week, click on the button below, or the buttons on my sidebar anytime.

Brought to You by the Letter M

Mind Over Matter

I’ve never really cared for that phrase, to be honest with you [but I'm still glad you suggested it, Tam :)]. It’s always seemed a bit arrogant to me.

When people say “It’s mind over matter” they usually follow it with declarative statements like:

“I don’t get sick. I just decide not to.”
”Just push through it… you can make it if you really want to.”
”If you want it bad enough, you can make it happen.”

I hate to be the one to break it to you, people, but none of us has that much control. I am all about the power of positive thinking, but I have a bit of a different take on it.

Maybe instead of looking at mind over matter as a way for us to control our environment and create desired outcomes, instead of looking at it as a way to force the universe to conform to our wants, we could see it as an opportunity to use our minds to make good choices regardless of the “matter.”

Instead of it being a super natural power to create our destiny [the right job, the right house, the right appearance, the right outcome], maybe it’s a natural power to create our response. If mind over matter was a physical choice, I can guarantee you I’d be dancing and singing and travelling the world. Outside. Breathing fresh air. But my mind has instead made a mental and emotional choice to live well within the matter at hand. My mind has chosen, regardless of circumstance, to find joy in the little things. I can’t control the physical, I can’t control the outcomes, I can’t control others’ actions… but I can control my response.

I guess that’s my version of mind over matter.

Even the cases where the byproduct is a physical result, I think it all starts with embracing our realities rather than pretending we are above them. When Lance Armstrong is tired, straining to ride up that last hill, I wonder if he’s screaming at his muscles to do what he wants them to do, or if he’s acknowledging the fatigue and deciding his response. Choosing to be grumpy and defeated will tire him out faster. Choosing to be hopeful and positive may give him a boost of energy. Physically, once his muscles give out, they give out. His mind has no control over that… lactic acid does. But his energy? That comes from his attitude. His mind decides how he responds to the matter at hand.

I had a number of times this past week where my exhaustion and pain has hit hard. It puts me in what I call a “coma sleep,” where I'm aware of what's going on around me but just can't move or open my eyes for the life of me. I will literally say in my mind, “Open your eyes!” and nothing happens. My mind has no physical control over the matter.

But my mind does have the choice to stop struggling and fighting against it, which only exhausts me more. My mind has the choice to not be frustrated by all I couldn’t do in those hours, but instead be grateful during the times when I am rested and my energy comes back.

My limitations continue to teach me valuable lessons. I’ve learned not to live under the illusion that I have control over any part of my life… I’m happy to leave all of that to God. But I will continue to choose to be grateful, to be happy, to be content in my earthly dwelling.

I do this because my mind, and everything else in my life, is a gift from Him.

And that matters.

Can’t wait to see what you all want to hear about next week… give me some suggestions in the comments for an [N] topic!