The Break-Up Starbucks

At Pentagon Row, next to the Lebanese Taverna (one of my favorite places to eat at) and near Bally's gym, there is a Starbucks. It's not very special or too different from most Starbucks. It has the pastry counter, the detailed coffee menu and a reasonable seating area. Nothing special.

This Starbucks has served as the location for many of my ridiculously bad break-ups. Yes, it was there that I had a few DTRs (determine the relationship) conversations that really went bad...really fast. And the thing is, they all happened at different areas of the coffee shop. Break-ups include:

The Blonde: We stopped by this Starbucks after church. Yes, the genius thought it would be a great idea to break-up after church. What I thought was a nice little coffee break turned out to be a confusing and heartless experience. After I suggested we break-up the week before, this guy suggested we "take-a-break" from our relationship at this Starbucks. I said, "we need to just break it off." Awesome. The End.

The Architect: We met here for some random reason. I guess it was a coffee date? P.S. I'm not all into coffee dates. Emily and I have concluded that they tell us, "I'm not sure you are worth dinner just yet" and "I'm not that into you just yet." So, this guy and I hung out for a while. It didn't go very far. The End.

The E-Harmony Failure: This guy came to visit me from Las Vegas. Yes, digest that...Las Vegas. After getting to know him and spending time with him over the Memorial Day weekend, we walked over to this Starbucks the Monday he was scheduled to return to Vegas. Our conversation went something like this...he thinks I'm reserved, not really sure about me, if he lived in town he would want to continue seeing me and he doesn't know where he is going to be 6 months from now (that's like today). Um...then why did you message me in the first place? Weirdo. The End.

So...the reason I highlight the Starbucks. On Wednesday evening I have another date at this Starbucks. This is another Harmonizing date. I actually met this guy by accident at a party a few weeks ago. God has a very large sense of humor. I was very sassy that night and kind of sassed him and yeah, he still wants to meet for coffee. Well since I don't have a car, he asked me if it would be convenient for us to meet close to where I live. And...this points me to the Break-Up Starbucks. Yes, we are meeting there. I guess if it survives the Starbucks test it's a good sign?

I'll keep you posted.

Thanksgiving by proxy.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner!

I'm a very blessed woman with much to be grateful for. It would be easy for me to sit here and recount my blessings for you. Instead, though, I want to talk about something a bit more complicated: how to be grateful for the blessings of others.

Perhaps it’s just me . . . But do you ever notice how right behind almost every “congratulations!” that slips past your lips, regardless of how heartfelt and sincere it might be, there’s a subtle (or not-so-subtle) “but why not me?” that jumps out of your heart and gets stuck in your throat?

For example: 

It's Monday morning, and your friend is enjoying a peppermint mocha. Out loud, you say, "Wow, that smells wonderful." Internally, you think, "I just realized how tired I am. Really wish that I had one of those . . ."

Or how about something a little deeper?: 

Your friend gets a much-deserved promotion at work. You say (and mean), “That’s fantastic! Good for you. I’m so glad you’re being rewarded for all of the extra hours you’ve been putting in, and I know you’ll excel at managing your new responsibilities.” You don’t say, “Wow, that reminds me that I didn’t get promoted, because my work isn’t valued as highly as his is.”

There’s a lot of envy going on there. Where is it coming from?

If we habitually compare ourselves to others, then we automatically use other people’s good news as a measuring stick by which to take stock of our own. Essentially, it’s pride. It means that I’m inserting myself into someone else’s story. Rather than just acknowledging that you have [x] and then moving on, my selfish heart says, “You have [x]. Do I have [x]? If not, why?”

We have to remember that when something good happens for someone else, that doesn’t mean that there’s less good to go around, as if God is operating with some kind of limited supply. Instead, it’s proof that God’s redemptive plan is alive and well, and that He is actively pursuing it.

A grateful heart humbly takes itself out of the equation and (as the subtitle says) participates in the blessings wherever they are found.

At my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding, the priest said, “Marriage is proof that God’s love for each of us is intensely personal. He takes two people with separate backgrounds, separate histories, separate personalities, and then joins their hearts together as one.” That’s a beautiful thought. But it took my Protestant memory a few beats to realize that, as a Catholic priest, he wasn’t speaking out of his own tangible experience. A large part of his life is spent counseling young couples on their way to the altar and officiating their wedding ceremonies, baptizing their children, and supporting their spiritual formation. If he wasn’t able to celebrate with them and count their blessings as his own, it would be impossible to sincerely and joyfully keep his vows.

On that same theme, I had the distinct privilege of hosting a bridal shower this weekend for one of my very dearest friends. The man she’s about to marry also happens to be one of my favorite people, and I’m going to shamelessly (if not entirely accurately) take credit for introducing them. As an amateur matchmaker with a maternal streak, watching them make each other happy is like getting two for the price of one. I’m genuinely, truly thrilled for them.

It’s hard, though, because it means that – tomorrow morning –  she’s moving. Sitting next to her at church for the last time, I realized midway through the sermon that I had picked the wrong night to wear smoky eye make-up. By the final hymn, my cheeks were streaked with mascara. I will no longer get to see her twice a week at small group and on Sundays. I won’t get to hang out with her on weekends and catch up over tea. My introverted self won’t be able to drag her along to parties and rely on her to make small talk when I start to feel tired. It’s hard because, at least for a little while, her absence means that I’m going to feel lonely.

So I have a choice: I can either choose to be upset because, in order to bless someone else, God has taken my friend from me. Or, I can believe that He has allowed me to play a supporting role in someone else’s love story.

During this holiday season (and always), I'd rather choose to be grateful.

I'm not going to be able to hear anything you say tomorrow.

But needtobreathe put on an amazing show at the 9:30 Club tonight!

Enjoy:

Pouting, parades, and parking tickets.

Not too long ago, I was in a bad mood for a week straight. I was angry . . . but I knew that was irrational, so then I would get angry at myself for being so angry, which led me to feel bad for being so hard on myself, and then my brain would get tired and I'd get angry again just because I was exhausted. Vicious.

I felt so bad for snapping at my friend that I went home and baked him a pumpkin spice cake as an apology. It looked almost perfect when I took it out of the oven, but upon cooling it was obvious that I had accidentally mixed my emotions into the batter. The middle sunk almost immediately into a gooey, unappetizing mess and I had to pitch the whole thing. (I offered him the bowl of widowed frosting, but he declined.)

Anyway, the point is: I was kind of a wreck.

I realized that my soul-searching had caused me to become a bit self-absorbed, so I tried to counteract that by looking for opportunities to serve others. Fortunately, this plan aligned perfectly with a plea from a friend who needed an extra set of hands at her new consignment store during the Del Ray Halloween Parade. I hopped in my car, parked my good intentions on the street in front of her boutique, rolled up my sleeves, and got busy.

Several hours, 100 hangers, 17 trick-or-treating princesses, 10 lions, and 4 junior firemen later, I was feeling sufficiently distracted but still a bit bruised inside. So I prayed:

Father,

Maker of all that is, seen and unseen: You hold all of history in Your hands and yet still have room to hold me. Search this heart You created; test my anxious thoughts. I confess that I've been feeling a bit forgotten lately, but I know that Your eye is on this sparrow. Please send me a tangible reminder of Your love today.

Amen.

That seemed reasonable at the time. My heart was too hardened to feel anything useful, so I wanted a reminder that I could wrestle with. But here's what happened instead:

My car got towed.

Because that's what happens when you park on a street where a parade is about to pass by.

Embarrassingly, I cried the entire seven blocks between the newly vacant parking spot and the middle school where my car had been relocated. Really, God? I ask You to show me that You love me and instead you let them tow my car?


Funny thing, though: on each of  those seven blocks, I noticed at least two "Emergency - No Parking" signs. I swear they had been invisible before.

When I finally reached my car, there was a bright orange envelope on my windshield. It contained a $40 parking ticket from the city of Alexandria, but it might as well have been a note reading something like this:

Em, 

You asked Me to show you that I love you, so I sent you to the parade. You could have participated, but you were too wrapped up in your own world to notice the signs. Don't park your car where I'm about to throw a party. I do love you, but I need you to participate in the work that's already been planned.

Always,

God

On busyness & burnout.

I wrote this a month or so ago in response to a challenge from a friend who caught me drowning in busyness. If you're a kindred spirit who needs permission to say no every once in a while, I hope you find this helpful:

I’m a giver by nature and a peacemaker by birth order. When I see a need, it’s instinctive for me to try to fill it. I recognize that this is not a bad instinct, but that it needs to be tempered by a proper sense of scope.

Not every need is my responsibility.

Those words are unnatural for me to type. As my fingers move across the keys, Scripture verses and prayer fragments spring to my lips. What about loving my neighbors, caring for the “least of these,” sins of omission? Am I not supposed to pour my last two copper coins into the offering plate as it passes by?

I want to spend my life in service to others. The problem that I seem to face, though, is that I’m no longer in charge of the life that’s being spent. I’m not stewarding my time, talents, energies, or affections in a responsible way. There are needs around every corner – friends who need my affection, causes that need my attention, neighbors who need my time. By responding indiscriminately, or by letting others decide which needs warrant my attention, I’m not allowing God to tell me where He wants to use me. I’m listening to others’ voices instead of His. This means that I’m also acting out of my own strength, rather than trusting that God will meet me and equip me for the tasks He’s called me to.

It’s possible that someone might need my help, and that I might be the most well-equipped person to meet their need (because of my particular skill set, or because of my unique relationship with that person, or simply because I have free time), but it might not be God’s will for me to act. It’s possible that the most God-honoring act I can perform would be to say no.

This is hard, because those people might be disappointed in me. They might judge the way that I use my time and my talents. They might be hurt or offended that I’m prioritizing other needs above theirs (which is particularly hard when the needs I’m meeting are my own). Worse, their need might actually not be met. They might be hurting, and saying no means that I have to watch them hurt.

But if I fail to take care of myself, then I can’t be maximally effective at meeting the needs of others. My body and my soul are connected, and they both have limits. I need to eat, sleep, and exercise. I need to play, rest, pray, and work. These verbs are not optional or negotiable. It honors God when I take care of my own body.

Most importantly, though, I need to recognize that my primary devotion is to God. He is not glorified if I pretend that taking care of others is service to Him if it means that I’m on autopilot rather than being responsive to His call for my life. Service enables me to substitute good works for actual devotion. (Why stop and listen when there is work to be done?) 

The most important commandment is to first love God with all of your heart, mind, soul and strength, and the second is “like” it. It doesn’t replace it.

My friends are so creative!

Have you started your Christmas shopping yet? Keep these shops in mind as the season approaches . . .

 

Psalm 27 Designs

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