Beautiful People

Lately, I've had the opportunity to do some traveling for my current employment. It's been a welcoming adventure and I've had a ton of fun doing it. I've walked New Orleans and Lafayette, Louisiana and now Neshoba County, Mississippi. I've had the opportunity to get to know my colleagues better, taste amazing local cuisines, see Bourbon Street (my parents were right), and experienced a really fascinating county fair. I am so blessed.

The place that stuck a cord inside of me most was the Neshoba County Fair. I have fallen in love with Mississippi. I love its simplicity, peacefulness, generosity and warm hearts. The people were beautiful. They know how to enjoy a porch, sip some good iced tea, speak their minds and appreciate the present. I've lived in the city for a little over 4.5 years and have loved every moment of it. However, it's moments like these that help me to remember my roots and put me in touch with my inner being. I love taking time outs, talking, listening to the earth and people watching. I had the opportunity to do all of this at this fair.

These people reminded me that people matter, conversation matters, and family matters. I love how they come together one week out of the year to enjoy each others company. I hope my life will be apart of this or similar community.

This is Billy the family dog. It's a she and I loved holding and kissing her.

I met a lady named Priscilla. I walked right up to her and her friends and started conversing. She was so warm and they instantly adopted me. She asked me about my work, my education and how I managed to get where I am today. She instantly invited me to have dinner with her, her husband and friends. She even invited me and my coworker to spend the night in their cabin so we could get the full fair experience. It turned out that we couldn't have dinner with them due to work engagements. However, we stopped by her cabin to say hello and to thank her for the invitation. She and her family and friends were so kind. They invited us in, showed us around, talked about the day and expressed hope that we would run into each other tomorrow. I think the most beautiful thing about Priscilla, is that she, with out asking, cleaned off of red mud my shoes had splattered all over my legs. It was so kind and motherly. She reminded me of my grandmother.

Dear Priscilla,
Thank you for showing me kindness. It's been a while since I've seen it face to face. Thank you for reminding me people are beautiful.

Dear God,
Thank you for showing me people are beautiful. Thank you for opening up my eyes and for your little gifts here and there. You always amaze me.

A final passport stamp.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. - Romans 8:38 & 39

My Aunt Lynette was a traveler. Even though she lived right down the road from where I grew up, almost all of my memories of her involve some sort of trip - like the time she took my little brother and I on a train tour through Michigan, or the time she came to visit me at college and took me to a Swedish bakery outside Chicago to buy some limpa bread, or the time she hopped on a bus tour to come see the cherry blossoms (and me) in DC. I have trinket boxes from all over the world lined up on my dresser that she brought back for me as souvenirs.

Lynette was also a photographer, and I'm pretty sure she took a picture of almost every square inch of the Earth that she covered. Almost all of our get-togethers involved looking through her photo collections and, as we got older, sharing pictures from our own travels with her.

That persistent urge to explore the world, to document our adventures, and to share the beauty that we find here is buried in all of us to some degree. It's part of what it means to be human, this often subconscious understanding that we have a limited amount of time to kick around at the dust under our feet before we return to it. As Christians, that urging (what Frederick Buechner would call "seeking a homeland," as in Hebrews 11) is also a reminder that this world is not our home.

Lynette's travels are done for now. She is home.

I don't know much about what Heaven is like. But I know that if Lynette has her way, she's probably not going to be spending much time kicking around those mysterious John 14:2 mansions.  She'll be driving a Buick around the streets of gold.

Next time won't you sing with me . . .

This morning I was sitting out by the pool, soaking in some Vitamin D & some Frederick Buechner, when my bliss was interrupted by an awful cracking noise. A child too young to read the "NO RUNNING!" signs had slipped on the wet cement and skinned her knee. I held my breath and waited for her shock to wear off, which was followed by the heartbreaking wailing only a child's lungs can produce.

As my fellow sunbathers and I stirred uncomfortably, I glanced around for the girl's mother and expected one of two things to happen: 1) the mom would rush in, sweep the little girl up in her arms and start gently cooing into her ear to soothe her pain, or 2) the mom would rush in and scold the child for running, causing her to cry even more loudly.

Instead, I heard a woman start gently singing the ABCs. By the time she got to "L M N O P . . .," the girl had stopped crying. At "W" the girl had started singing along.

I glanced at the guy next to me and he muttered, "Wow. I can't believe that worked."

What was it about that song that made the child stop crying? Was she just distracted by something more "fun" than her pain? Sure, but I think this song was particularly effective because subconsciously the girl knows she's supposed to sing it, too. The song is a lesson that all kids have to learn at some point, so it's repeated over and over again until they can sing it backwards and forwards (which usually earns them a lot of stickers). While it seems like singing the ABCs was just a vehicle for distraction, it's actually the opposite - singing the ABCs is part of what it means to be a kid, and skinning her knee (though inevitable) was the distraction.

I think this is actually how God deals with me a lot. When I'm hurt, I tend to brace myself for God's wrath (because He is just, after all), though what I really long for is some gentle, immediate soothing. When neither of those things happen, I get confused by God's silence. Does He not see that I skinned my metaphorical knee over here? 

But instead, He covers the noise of my tears with the voice of truth. "Keep going, child. Remember your lessons, and you'll be all right."

Comedic timing.

I think God is really funny sometimes.

On Friday, after a long work week, I was in a really heavy mood. I felt the full weight of life's circumstances, and I just couldn't shake it. As I turned the key to unlock the door to my apartment, I (embarrassingly) felt myself tearing up. I quickly prayed, "God, I need to feel that I am loved. I know You love me, but I just really need some proof right now. Help me understand."

When I stepped inside, there was a large package addressed to me. My siblings had sent me an ice cream maker with a note that read: "Happy birthday, Emily! Love, Luke, Liz & Matt." The trendy new kitchen appliance was a really thoughtful gift from people who know me very well, and it arrived a few days early. The note was a really thoughtful gift from a God who knows me even better, and it arrived just in time.

Factoring in the estimated shipping time, God answered my prayer days before I ever asked it. The gift would have made it to my doorstep regardless. But I wouldn't have understood the beauty of the timing of the sentiment had I not specifically asked for it just moments before.

Anyway, I'm a slow learner, so the lessons continued late into the night. My mind was spinning and I couldn't sleep, so around midnight I wandered into the kitchen to have some leftover angel food cake. I pulled out a plate but got distracted by the fortune cookies we'd left sitting on the counter from our Chinese take-out. Curious, I cracked one open and read: "Discontentment is the first step in the progress of a man or a nation." I thought it was rather odd that the fortune cookie happened to pick up on my mood, but I shrugged it off as vague superstition.

I served myself a slice of angel food cake, but before I picked up my fork, I cracked open the second cookie and read the weirdest fortune I've ever seen. I kid you not, it said, "There is some delicious cake waiting for you."

In case you're wondering, the Lotto Six  #s were: 19 38 46 25 38 92. Knock yourself out.

Sunshine personified.

Happy birthday, Virginia!

To know Virginia is to love her.

She's like sunshine: all warmth and light.

Always good for a hug and a laugh,

she makes everything around her bright.

She's not afraid to pull a u-turn

when she's headed in the wrong direction.

Life with her is always an adventure--

sometimes inspiring fear, but mostly deep affection.

A generous hostess with tea at the ready,

this girl can rock a cocktail dress.

But she's just as comfortable on a bike or a mountain;

she's not afraid to make a mess.

An earnest seeker and a student of life,

her spirited debates keep my iron sharp.

Yet despite her depth, she treads through life lightly - 

her laughter rings like the sound of her harp.

Her friendship is a gentle medicine;

her smile a work of art.

Her soul is a thing of beauty;

her spirit an exclamation mark!

Wish we could get stuck in a summer rainstorm in Annapolis again this year, but I promise that we'll celebrate belatedly in Idaho instead. (Sarith is in. She says she "likes potatoes.") Happy birthday!

Twihardly: Post-Eclipse Reflections

The most satisfying romantic relationship I've had in years began last summer on the beach with a 17-year-old fictional vampire. I think it's time to move on.

At first, I found it easy to identify with Bella. For one thing, she's a brunette. Secondly, she's really clumsy and falls down a lot. That's pretty much all we know about her, but it doesn't really matter because perfect Edward is irresistibly attracted to the scent of her blood. By happy coincidence, he also seems to genuinely like her. Score! (Well, not quite yet.)

I still maintain that there's a lot of interesting fodder about souls, theology, and friendship to be gathered from the series as long as you understand that depth is what you bring to the table, not what you're being served. I'm still on Team Edward. Yet roughly one year after Twilight, it turns out that I'm not Bella after all. 

I'm Jacob. 

Bummer.

But since everything in my life is about grace at the moment, here's what I would say to Jacob at the end of Eclipse if I had the chance:

_________________________

Jake,

I'm really sorry you're hurt right now. Your broken bones will set at a freakishly quick pace, but it seems you've got a bum heart just like the rest of us. That's going to take a bit more time to heal.

You said you wanted to get all of the breaking done at once, so I've got some bad news for you: Team Edward wins. I'm sure that comes as no surprise, but here are a few tips to help you cope:

• Don't be mad at either Bella or Edward. The choices of their hearts (if you can call them choices) had nothing to do with you, and there's nothing you could have done to change the outcome.
• You may be tempted to run away, but please know that your escapism (running around in wolf form) is neither sustainable nor satisfying. There are too many people who rely on your friendship for you to completely withdraw.
• Remember that the larger series, like all epic tales, is ultimately about good and evil, not just romance. And good wins! I know you'd love to stay ignorant of the troubles around you and not actually have to deal with shape-shifting and what not, but you were called for a purpose. This is both your legacy and your destiny. Fight the good fight - and do it for Good, not for Bella.
• Stephenie Meyer is going to try to throw a creepy plot patch at you in Book IV - but don't let her do it! You deserve a better story than that -- your own story -- not just a contrived fix so that the16-year-olds in your fan club can sleep at night knowing you're not alone.

This is not your story. I'm sorry you keep getting thrown in haphazardly. (I can't believe that the author actually makes you narrate part of Breaking Dawn! Has she no mercy?) But please try to keep the larger narrative arch in perspective. I hope that, if you ever do get your own series, it won't take 1200 pages to get to the action.

Much love,

EDB

Shake, Shake Senora

Around 5:00AM this morning an earthquake struck the DC metro area. Where was I? Asleep. Did I feel it? Nah, I was dreaming. I think I woke up at some point because I somehow overslept and was confused again, for the 2nd time this week. I can't stand it when I wake up confused.

This got me thinking. Is God trying to shake me about something and am I just sleeping right through it all? Am I not paying attention? I know He's got me all stirred up inside about something. Have I taken the time to stop, focus and listen? Am I spritually asleep?

It's so important that we take time to stop everything and listen for God's voice and watch for His cues. At this time, I feel uneasy about my life right now. I must not be listening and watching. Satan is very creative with his various distractions and tactics. We must make a mental note to know who it is that is trying really hard to distract us from paying attention to God's messages and directions.

This is a self check. Are you paying attention? What is God trying to tell you?

"Hear my voice when I call, O LORD; be merciful to me and answer me." Psalm 27:7

And just in light of this mornings tremor and just for fun...




"Shake, Shake Sarith! God's shaking me all the time! Pay Attention, Pay Attention, Pay Attention Sarith! God really wants my time."

On abundance.

One of the books I've been involved with at work recently got some play in the WSJ. I'll spare you the underlying economics and just focus on the last line: "A larger government sector may decrease some economic inequality, but will ultimately leave Americans sharing smaller pieces of a smaller pie." 


Basically, the book explains that increasing the size of your government can slow your country's economic growth rate. A big government can, through tax and transfer programs, reduce economic inequality by taxing the haves and distributing that revenue amongst the have nots. After a certain point, however, tax hikes yield diminishing returns. If growing your government causes your economy to grow more slowly, then eventually there's less to take in and therefore less to spread around.


Reasonable people can and will disagree about the proper size and scope of government (and the benefits and services it provides) in relation to the desired rate of economic growth (or forgone wealth). But since this is my blog post, I'll explain my point of view. I tend to favor an increase in economic growth over an increase in economic equality (via big gov't) because I don't believe that wealth is a zero-sum game. Sure, if there's only $6, then me and my two friends can all have $2. But if there's not a limited total and I can have $4 instead, I don't care if my friend gets $8. In fact, I'll even give up $1 and volunteer my friend with $8 to also give up $1 (  . . . or perhaps $2, depending on the progressivity of my theoretical tax structure) if it means that no one gets $0. That leaves me with $3, which is still better than $2.


If you're still reading this, bless your heart, and here's my larger spiritual point: when you're counting your blessings, don't approach that exercise as if it's a zero sum game. Please don't take this analogy too far--I don't actually mean to equate my political opponents with sinners, and I would never mistake the size of our GDP with the size of my GOD. What I'm trying to say is: we serve a God of abundance, not of lack.


When your neighbor is poor (in wealth or in spirit), be generous and compassionate. But when the tables are turned and your neighbor is rich (in wealth or in joy), be thankful. Anything less is envy. And envy is rooted in a belief that God's resources are limited - as if by providing for your neighbor He has less to give to you. False.


God is at work redeeming creation. When you see that anywhere, rejoice - even if that means watching someone else get something you want or get more than you have. He will pour out His blessings according to his larger redemptive plan. That means that sometimes I'll get 4 blessings when my neighbor gets 8 . . . but I'll gladly take that deal, because I know that His supply is unlimited and the blessings won't run out until His redemptive work is through.

You Consume Me

Occasionally (yes because I can and very easily listen to a song over and over again and not get sick of it until a few months later), I will get tired of listening to my "Recently Played" list on my IPod. Today, I selected the listen at random button. During my commute to work, an old school song played which brought back lots of memories. These were memories of struggle, faith and persistence. The song was DC Talk's, "Consume Me." My favorite part of the song is the bridge, it goes as follows:

"I am in your hands,
Under your command,
Like a puppet on a string,
[Lord you know]
I am willing to,
Put my FAITH in you,
So before the world I sing"
[consume me]

I do feel like I am a puppet on a string most times. There are so many times I freak out and ask myself, "who was that? That was definitely not me who had the courage to do that, or say that? What just happened? Did that just happen to me? I don't deserve that." I feel God's hand on my life. Sometimes His hand is heavy and other times He is carrying me. He directs me and reveals Himself to me all the time. I constantly ask Him to show Himself to me and help me to see the things He wants me to see.

When God opened my eyes, I saw the world from a different perspective, my soul came alive, my eyes could see wrongs that were, in the past, invisible to me and my heart grew. The things God shows me aren't always the things I want to see. He helps me to understand them and gives me instructions on how to act on them. I ask God to use me everyday to do His will. A lot of times I feel blind as I walk and act upon His will, but He always leads.

Again, His will isn't always my will, but I choose to trust Him, to have faith in Him. I know He has a plan and that His plan is greater than anything I can come up with or that this world can produce. I also know I have to choose to put my faith in God everyday. As the songs says, "I am willing to, put my faith in you." It is a choice. God is so good that He doesn't demand we choose Him, he gives us the option. How amazing is that that? He has all the power in heaven and earth and he still gives us the "option" to choose. All of us have this option and everyday, we decide whether we want to to put our faith in God or in our own selves. It's not always easy to choose God because we (humans) love control. It's a daily struggle to trust God. We trust Him with our life, decisions, future, life walk, families safety, our safety, jobs... The list goes on and on.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for the opportunity to choose You everyday. Thank you for guiding me and talking to me throughout the day. Thank you for listening to my hearts desires and for always being there. I hear You and I feel You. I desire You every moment of the day. Again, Lord, I choose You. I know You know what is best for me and where I can best be used by You. Please continue to use me to do Your will. Thank you for the opportunity to trust You and serve You. Consume me.

Your servant,

S

Deep breath.

Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the LORD.” And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.
-- I Kings 19: 11-12 (NKJV)

_________________________________________________________________________________

My prayer for you today is that you hear the still small voice above the roar of this world;

that you understand your past is being redeemed by a God who makes all things new;

and that you trust your future to the Hope which does not disappoint.

May the weight of your guilt be replaced by the crushing weight of glory. Amen.

_________________________________________________________________________________

You're lost? Hooray!

Yesterday, I drove to Cheverly to play Scrabble with Marg . . . but I almost didn't make it. I got incredibly turned around on Maryland's twisted back roads and thus had to give her a call:

RMH: Hello? Are you here?
Me: Hey, friend. I'm lost.
RMH: REALLY? HOORAY!
Me: What?
RMH: Well, I'm not glad that you're lost. But the first time I tried to drive to Cheverly I was lost for over an hour. I'm so glad it's not just me!
Me: Hmm. [pause] Well I'm still lost, so can you give me directions?

The exchange made me laugh, but it also reminded me of one of my favorite bits of the Bible:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. -2 Corinthians 1:3-7

(In case you're wondering, I lost our Scrabble battle by over 50 points and it was very humbling. Sympathy, please!)

Some people might call me . . . thrifty.

Marg recently prefaced a story by saying, "Some people might describe me as . . . thrifty." Honey, no. No one describes you as thrifty. We call you cheap. 


Our first winter together in DC, the girls and I noticed that Marg didn't have a winter jacket. She had some sort of black pleather thing with buttons that she would wear when it snowed, but it was definitely not a coat. So, we forced her to go to the mall with us to check out the pre-Christmas sales. Capitalism was kind to her that day, and we found her a professional-yet-stylish black pea coat from Banana Republic for 75% off. 


Several months later, we went to go see a movie at Union Station (Wow, do you remember when there used to be a theater there? We're such old-timers.). Marg casually laid her coat over the back of her seat. To our surprise, we noticed that she still had the tags on it. Busted! Did you really think we were going to let you return that? Eye rolling ensued, coupled with some ineffectual protesting and some determined tag ripping.


I'm not telling this story to make fun of my friend. I'm telling this story because sometimes we treat grace like that coat. (Stick with me here.) We know we need it, and we're grateful to have it, but we're afraid that it's too expensive for us. It's just so much nicer than we deserve, so we walk around like we're borrowing it but we don't really own it.

Sweetheart, go ahead and rip the tags off. You can't return it anymore. Your receipt has been paid in full.

All things new.

Happy Monday.






Marg, I know you don't like repetitive lyrics, so here are the highlights: 

Hello Hurricane 
Hello hurricane, you're not enough
Hello hurricane, you can't silence my love
I've got doors and windows boarded up
All your dead end fury is not enough
You can't silence my love

Every thing I have I count as loss
Everything I have is stripped away
Before I started building, I counted up these costs
There's nothing left for you to take away 

Always  
Hallelujah!
I'm caving in
Hallelujah!
I'm in love again
Hallelujah!
I'm a wretched man
Hallelujah
Every breath is a second chance

And it is always, always, always yours
And I am always, always, always yours

The allure of solitary places.

As I was reading through the book of Luke the other day, I was reminded of how much I love parables. There are a lot of really great illustrations in the Bible.

But . . . there's some really weird stuff in there, too. Take, for example, Luke 8:26-39 - the story about a man who's possessed by a legion of demons. The demons beg Jesus to send them into a bunch of pigs rather than back into the Abyss, and then the pigs immediately rush into a lake and drown themselves. Voila! The man is healed.

Normally, I would get hung up on questions like, "What happened to the demons after the pigs drowned? Did they then have to go back to the Abyss? If so, why were the pigs necessary?"

What tripped me up this time, though, was the last part of verse 29. The possessed man is described as being  ". . .  driven by the demons into solitary places."

I'm an introverted soul, and I need a lot of time alone to feel refreshed. I try to make sure I keep a lot of space in my schedule to sort out my thoughts and quiet my soul. When I've spent too much time in the company of others, I get a gentle nagging from that "still, small voice" beckoning me to stop performing and just spend some time listening. 

What's dangerous, though, is that isolation (by definition) makes it easy to hide. When I'm alone, I don't have to explain anything to other people. I don't have to justify my behavior. I don't have to consider anyone else's opinion or perspective. Therefore, if I spend my alone time listening to the wrong voices (by which I mean the devil rather than the Spirit - I don't have actual, audible voices in my head, I promise), I can quickly find myself worse off as opposed to refreshed. The devil knows this and often uses this as a tool against me. He'll do anything he can to drive a wedge between me and my friends and family.

So how do I know the difference? The clue is usually in the trigger. Do I want to be alone so that I can rest and pray, or do I just want to avoid my responsibilities to my community? If I'm angry, impatient, or sad, then being alone allows me to wallow in those feelings. Self-pity can feel deceptively luxurious . . . but, ultimately, it only leads to more dissatisfaction. If the desire for isolation is instead a desire to hear the voice of Truth more clearly, then solitude can create space for healing, leaving me refreshed to better love and serve those around me.

Marg, I know you're reading this - so call me soon or I'm coming after you.

Pop!

I bought myself an early birthday present today: two new tires! I was going to buy new dinnerware, but then I figured: why buy something you want, when you can buy something you need? :)

Afraid I was getting a little soft, the Universe conveniently left the jagged metal edge of a storm drain exactly where I wanted to park. Pop! Well, Universe, I have some news for you: if you're trying to get me down, you're going to have to try harder.

I've been secretly paranoid about getting a flat tire from the first day that I bought my car. Now that it's behind me, I realize it's really not so bad after all. Here's why today was the perfect day to get my first flat tire:

-The timing was fortuitous, because it happened just as I pulled up to the church for Melissa's baby shower. I was already where I needed to be for the morning, and I had the rest of the afternoon to take care of it. (*Bonus* Fortuitous is one of my favorite words, and I just got to use it.) 

-A church fellowship hall full of women in dresses isn't the most likely place to find help dealing with lug nuts. However, it did mean that there was plenty of coffee and lots of muffins nearby.

-Mary Clark's dad once bought her a AAA membership for Valentine's Day, and she's been a member ever since. Someone please remind me to thank Mr. Gaston for his thoughtfulness when I meet him at the wedding.

-It was raining. Ok, so that probably wasn't fun for the AAA guy who had to change my spare, but it sufficiently deterred me from trying to do it myself. I wasn't quite as stubborn as I normally would have been about asking for professional help. If you're a man whose number is in my phone, be grateful to the clouds that you didn't have to come teach me how to fix my tire in the rain.

-The AAA guy was pretty impressed by the size of the hole I put in my tire. I really ripped it open. That's not actually a blessing, I guess, but it made him laugh.

-Within two minutes of posting a "damsel-in-distress" themed facebook status update, I got a phone call from the ever-faithful Nate. He volunteered to spend three hours with me at the Wal-Mart tire service center and even helped me replace my windshield wiper blades. This was a humbling reminder that I have better friends than I deserve.

-I needed to get my oil changed, anyway.

-Next time, I'll know what to do. This is one less "what if" for me to be intimidated by. 

Growing up isn't so bad - especially when life's lessons come gently.

Can I have my spider back?

Sarith sent this to me a couple years ago, and it still makes me laugh: http://www.duttyartz.com/2008/can-i-have-my-spider-back/.

It also prompted me to think about how funny our reactions can be when we're faced with debt.

This has been a rough couple of weeks for Team 308 (the women writing this blog). I won't speak on their behalf, but I know that I've been humbled by the outpouring of friendship I've received. You've cared for me both physically (meals, hugs, plane tickets, phone calls) and spiritually (prayers, encouragement, laughs). I cannot repay you, and I'm embarrassed by the debt.

But I also know that you're never going to send me an invoice. That's not the point of friendship.

The larger Christian analogy is obvious. I'm just sinner racking up debt here, and my tab gets larger with each passing day. No matter how hard I work to be "good," I can't earn my salvation any more than David Thorne can pay his debt with a .gif. And yet, my account has been paid in full. 

So . . . I guess . . . since you're not using it or anything, can I have my spider back?

What I *meant* was . . .

My friends are fantastic listeners - which is convenient, because I talk a lot.

They'll often stop and say, "Em, do you remember the time you said [x]?" When this happens, there's a good chance that I don't actually remember and thus momentary panic ensues. Fortunately, I repeat myself often enough that even if I don't remember the particular occurrence, I might remember telling the same story to someone else. Anyway, it's amazing what they pick up, even when I'm just casually rambling or making up advice as I go along.

And yet . . .

Sometimes it seems that the more intentional I try to be with my communication, the less my friends actually hear. When there's hurt between us, it doesn't matter how carefully I try to prepare or how slowly I try to speak. All that seems to get communicated is "CONFLICT! CONFLICT! CONFLICT!"

Here are some things I learned about conflict this week that might be helpful to share (by which I mean, here are some things I recently did wrong that caused a lot of pain I'd like to avoid in the future):

1) What you actually said doesn't matter; what's important is what the other person heard. Perhaps you needed to address a problem with a friend. Maybe you wrote out the speech beforehand so that you would know exactly what to say, rehearsed that speech in the shower and twice in front of the mirror, and then replayed it in your head every day for two weeks after you delivered it. You may be positive that you didn't miss a syllable. However, you have no control over your words once they leave your mouth and get inside another person's head. There, they take on a life of their own. Therefore . . .

2) Keep it short. Miscommunication is almost inevitable in tense situations. Using fewer words limits the amount of clarification clean-up you have to do afterwards. Plus, shorter speeches are easier to memorize. But then again . . .

3) Have a conversation; don't deliver a speech. Unless you're really trying to kill a relationship (which does need to happen sometimes), make sure you give the other person a chance to ask questions and give input. I always want to make sure that I have control of the situation and am able to get my point across, so I usually speak quickly but carefully and then wrap it up as soon as things get uncomfortable. That isn't particularly helpful - or kind. It also exacerbates point #1.

4) Be honest about your feelings. They affect your behavior, no matter how much self-control you think you have. They're also really helpful signals. Sometimes, I try to ignore my feelings because I think they don't make sense. I shouldn't be hurt by that . . . he shouldn't be angry . . . and then I end up crying in embarrassingly public places and can't make it stop. When your heart gets loud, there's usually some kind of trigger that you need to acknowledge. Also, talking about your feelings can be a really helpful discussion starter.

5) Follow up quickly. The walls only get thicker and higher the longer you wait to start tearing them down. Sure, maybe you need a bit of time to cool off post-conflict. But as soon as you can be civil, follow up. Time heals all wounds when they've been properly dressed, but it makes an ugly mess of those that have been left untended.

Finally, since no one's going to stop me (I love blogging!), I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to all of the people I've been practicing my conflict skills on over the years. I'm still really, genuinely, horribly bad at it, and I know that my sloppy communication fumbles have caused a lot of pain. However, your patience and faithful friendship redeem those situations and make the hard, awkward work of conflict resolution worth the effort.

Knee High by the 4th of July

Good news: the corn in Indiana is well past "knee high by the 4th of July." Looks like it's going to be a bumper crop this year!

As I was driving (recklessly fast, because it was a rental car) down the straight, flat country roads of my home state this past weekend, I couldn't get over how green and lush the fields looked. When I mentioned that to my dad, his first comment was, "Yeah, we've had a lot of rain this year."

It made me think of all the times when, as a small child, I would get scared by the thunderstorms rattling the oak trees outside. Every time lightning would rip through the dark sky, my mom would remind me that the storms brought nitrogen the farmers needed for their fields.

Be grateful for the sunny days, but don't forget the importance of the rain. God gives one as well as the other.

And now, a few songs on that theme:




Everything Sad is Coming Untrue (Part II)
Jason Gray

The winter can make us wonder
If spring was ever true
But every winter breaks upon
The Easter lily's bloom

Could it be everything sad is coming untrue?
Could you believe everything sad is coming untrue?

Broken hearts are being unbroken
Bitter words are being unspoken
The curse undone, the veil is parted
The garden gate will be left unguarded

Could it be everything sad is coming untrue?
Oh I believe everything sad is coming untrue
In the hands of the One
Who is making all things new

When the storm leaves there's a silence
That says you don't have to fear anymore
The trees look greener, the sky's an ocean
The world is washed and starting over 

Rain is a Good Thing
Luke Bryan

Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey
Whiskey makes my baby feel a little frisky
Back roads are boggin' up, my buddies pile up in my truck
We hunt our honeys down, we take 'em into town
Start washin' all our worries down the drain
Rain is a good thing

Hello from the heartland!

On Thursday night at 11 p.m., I bought a plane ticket --> IND the next morning. I wouldn't recommend buying tickets less than 12 hours in advance if you can avoid it (ouch!), but when family calls, you answer. Ephesians 5:19 is all "speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs" . . . but I've been listening to a lot of trashy pop lately due to all of this traveling, so let's go that route instead.

Friday morning started out all *airplane, airplane, sorry i'm late / i'm on my way so don't close that gate.* After 4 hours of sleep and some coffee that my roommate preset for me the night before (thanks, S!), *I brushed my teeth with a bottle of Jack* (false) and was on my way to BWI. It took me longer than I expected to drive there, and even longer to find parking, so I was a little stressed by the time I got on the bus at Lot B. I put that stress to good use by directing everyone in front of me in line at the AirTran ticket counter on how to use the kiosks more effectively. "Excuse me, ma'am - that one's open. And if you're not using it, sir, could you please step aside so that the this lady - yes, you, go - can use it?" That reduced my waiting time by at least 10 minutes, easy. But when I finally had my printed boarding pass in hand, I realized that the security line was already, before 7:30 a.m., backed up down the hallway and around the corner. We're talking hundreds of people. I was prepared to give up and walk directly back to my car and spend the next 12 hours *riding solo,* Jason Derulo style, west on I-70. Fortunately, the guy next to me in line was a jolly old dude who used to be a famous surfer (or so he says) on his way back to march in a surfer parade in Huntington Beach. That Californian was the Snoop Dogg to my Katy Perry and convinced me to stay in line. All I could do this entire time was pray, "Please, God, just let me on the plane. I can't miss this flight! Just let me on the plane!" As you can probably guess, I made it with two minutes to spare.

Half an hour later, though, we were still sitting on the tarmac. We were eventually deplaned due to some sort of mysterious technical difficulty. It was then that I realized: my prayers have been entirely too small.

God got me on the plane, just like I asked, but what good did that do me? I was getting right back off it without moving a single inch! I was so caught up in getting to the end of the line in front of me that I forgot what my final destination was. I failed to trust that God would get me there even if I didn't understand the invidual steps in the process - - and get me there He did.

I don't mean that we shouldn't pray for the specifics. In the Lord's Prayer, we're taught to ask God for our daily bread. But before that, we pray that His will is done on Earth as it is in Heaven. When life gets crazy (and trust me, this was a crazy week), it's natural - and good - to take things one step at a time. But when we pray, we ought always to keep the larger narrative arch in mind.

I can tell that lesson is really resonating with people, because after telling it to my little brother last night, he said, "I also had an epiphany today, which was that we shouldn't let Em tell such long stories anymore."

Anyway, I'm so grateful that we don't have to *pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars* - our deepest wishes are known by a good and loving God who takes them seriously.