Lift My Eyes

Last night I had the rare experience of being alone for about 35 minutes. It doesn't happen much due to having either one child or both of them with me in the car, at home, or at school. During the school year, I am used to being at the front of a class room filled with students and then on the softball field with players around me, so the alone thing doesn't happen very often. When it does, I almost don't know what to do with myself. Sometimes I will pray and just strike up a conversation with God. Last night I prayed, but it was the "Oh, dear Jesus, keep me safe" kind of prayer. Here is the reason why. My almost 13 year old went home from her travel ball practice with a friend, so I had the trip home to myself. This trip involves a drive over one of our beautiful Tampa Bay bridges, the Howard Frankland, which joins Tampa with its cuter little sister, St. Petersburg. I have always enjoyed traveling over the many bridges in the Tampa Bay area, even when I was a little kid. I remember thinking that the water at night looked like a huge black hole instead of water into which one could fall and never hit the bottom. (Overactive imagination, even as a child) Last night was not one of those times. If you have ever enjoyed a late summer afternoon or evening in Florida, you know that weather which was perfectly clear all day can quickly brew up into the fiercest of lightning storms in a matter of minutes. (We aren't known as the "Lightning Capital of the US for nothing!) After a disturbingly close crack of lightning near the softball field, I decided to scoot home as quickly as my little Hyundai would carry me. Problem: crossing the bay in a lightning storm. It is not for the faint of heart. As I hit the Howard Frankland I winced as lightning branched across the sky from the east to the west booming loud cracks of thunder simultaneously. Driving a bridge over the warm waters of Tampa Bay in a lightning storm is not for the faint of heart. The rain becomes the least of your worries. This time, the storm was close, really close, but not quite upon me. What I noticed next was unexpected and poignant to say the least. On my left the sky looked angry and threatening, lightning flashed again and again with only a few seconds between strikes and black clouds had the sky completely dark, but on my right the sun was still making its slow descent on the western horizon. It was like a slow dance set to romantic music. The color was indescribable having only English words. Vibrant shades of pink and peach and fire streaked the sky, but the water! The water was the very best part. It mirrored the color of the sun's setting at the center, gradually becoming more blue and silver highlighted with brushstrokes of color. It was as if someone had forgotten to inform the west side of the bay that there was a raging storm less than a mile away. A quick glance to my left, and one might be terrified, but my gaze was trained on the breathtaking sunset. A sense of peace and calm washed over me. I didn't want to take my eyes off of the intense spectacle of what appeared to be the sun dipping into the water. Alas, I had to watch the road in front of me, bur all I really wanted to do was stop and stare. Isn't life a lot like this? My motivation to quickly get home was completely forgotten by the peace I felt as the sun made its exit from my sight. I could have kept my eyes trained on the tumult to my left, but the sunset captured my thoughts. I knew it was there, but I didn't really care anymore. There is always something to freak out about in life. Storms that could very well steal everything from us, not the least of which, our peace. The soothing vision of beauty on the western horizon reminded me that no matter how stormy the sky appears, I always have the choice to set my focus on the presence of God in my life. He holds me. Even death cannot steal from me a single promise. I can't control what storms may blindside me. However, I control my focus. Fear melts away when my eyes rest on the beauty of God's good plan for me. He is for me. He is for you. I think this is why the Word reminds us in Psalm 121 to "lift" our eyes. Psalm 121 King James Version (KJV) I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. To "lift our eyes" infers that we must actively choose to focus on that which puts the storm begging for attention into proper perspective. It is just a passing storm. It will come and go. The peaceful presence of God isn't affected by the storm. It might not be the first thing I notice. I may have to seek it out sometimes, but it's there. He won't leave me. He won't forsake me. It is truly beauty: it's the kind of beauty from which I don't want to look away. The more I look upon it, the more I want to keep my gaze upon it. The more I gaze upon the peace and beauty of God's glory and grace, the more I want to stare and worship Him unabashedly.

Messy and Beautiful

I have decided, perhaps because I am procrastinating school work and the cleaning of my closet, to breathe new life into this otherwise dormant blog. I do most of my writing in my journal, in the early morning hours between shower and hair and makeup with a cup of coffee and some toast at hand. I write to focus myself on the day ahead. Most of it is written straight to God alone. I won't lie. I do consider that someone will probably read my journals or blogs after I die. Maybe my kids or my husband will want to hear my voice again. Even if it is only my handwriting, which changes according to my current mood, they will want to read what made me think, ponder, ruminate on the mysteries of scripture. They may want to know what was going on in this crazy mind after I read my daily devotional and talk to my Daddy God. I don't mean to sound morbid. I think it is healthy to think about the legacy one leaves behind. I have heard the statistic that most people are forgotten 50 years after they have died. I am on a mission to make sure that the things about which I am passionate do not die with me--or 50 years after I am gone. I want my children's children to know that I loved inspiring others. I want them to know that I was the teacher that truly cared about my students' lives and wanted them to know that they were loved--loved by me and extravagantly loved by their Daddy God. I want them to know that all of those things were more important to me than a bigger paycheck. Whether that bigger paycheck would be found in a non-Christian school or another field altogether. Money was never a deciding factor for me. Honesty is important to me, and I think it is one of the things that helps students to feel comfortable with me. They know I will give them the truth. Most of the time, I tell them gently with nice, pretty words, sometimes it is a little more blunt. Sometimes the situation warrants bluntness. Honesty is good. It keeps us from having to pretend we are perfect. I read a blog today in which the overall theme was that life is messy, and that we should all stop pretending that it isn't and embrace it. I like that idea. So, in the spirit of messy, I give you my true confessions. 1. I have always struggled with body image. I have lost and gained weight (fat and muscle) many times in my almost 40 years. Currently I have what I refer to as "the eye of the tiger" and I am working steadily toward my goal weight, which I hope to reach before that dreaded day in June when I reach 40 years of age. I don't actually want to look 40. 2. I am terrible at housekeeping. Cleaning and organizing are not fun for me at all, so I procrastinate. When someone is coming over I get more cleaning done in 10 minutes than I have done in weeks. I am not good at decorating. Maybe if I had money I would get better at it, but making a space beautiful has never been a talent of mine. I do admire people who make houses into homes with the perfect placement of furniture and art combined with organization skills. You inspire me. 3. I love stories. Whether is is a good book, a well-written TV series, a film, a play, or a good talk with a close friend, stories inspire me in so many ways. I will take a good story over a self-help book or informative writing any day. I love to share my own stories, too. Some may view this as simplistic for an English teacher, but I disagree. It is at the root of what makes me love the beautiful language of English, and I am not ashamed to admit it. 4. I feel good about my accomplishments. I used to think that enjoying what I do well was prideful and boastful. Now I realize that God made me to enjoy the blessing he has given me. I used to feel guilty about loving to lead worship in church. Now, I feel happy to do it, remembering that my God is so happy when I praise him, and when I lead others in praise to him; that makes me happy. I am proud of myself for earning a Master of Arts in Teaching Special Education, and I am proud that I finished with a 4.0 GPA. I think it is okay to be proud of myself for using the gifts God has given me, because I know and I openly proclaim that I could do NONE of it without him. If God had not given me the basic life, health, strength, and skills to do it, I most definitely could not. I am exuberantly proud of my selfless husband for doing everything I had no time to do while I earned my graduate degree. He never complained--not even once. Roles reversed, I am sure I would have whined about doing all the laundry, grocery shopping, and cooking. He embraced it all. I keep thinking one day he will tell me I am not worth all the trouble, but this man in long-suffering. See, I told you I was blessed. I can't even believe it. 5. I am really competitive, and I don't like to lose. Softball has been a lifelong love of mine. I played since I was little, and during college I began coaching. I have coached teams which couldn't win one game all season, and I have coached teams which have gone on to win state championships. I aspire to be the kind of coach whose players know that their coach believes in them. I never want to be that kind of coach kids are scared to disappoint. Sometimes, I get too focused on winning, and I let little mistakes on the field (mine included) get me down. Ultimately, I love my girls, and I want them to know how important they are so that they will value themselves. I want them to see themselves the way God sees them. 6. I am in pain a lot. I inherited a condition from my mom's side of the genetic pool called Nail Patella Syndrome, or NPS. For most people the fingernails and patellae (kneecaps) are affected, so I suppose that is the reason for the simple name. Unfortunately, there is a myriad of other issues which come with the condition. It has different degrees of severity in patients, but my knees and hips give me the most trouble. I have almost constant pain in my hips, multiple tears and hyper-extensions in the ligaments of my knees, and arthritis from all the wear and tear. Doctors have forbidden me from running, so I have to be creative with my exercise. Once in a while, I run bases or trot across the softball field because I get tired of playing it safe on the field I love. Soaking in a hot tub gives me pain relief, and I am hoping to very soon reach my goal of owning one. Here's a pic taken as I was going in for my second reconstructive knee surgery. The ever supportive hubs at my side.

Those are my messy confessions for now. I am sure I will think of more to confess later, but these 6 are a good start. Let me inspire you to make your confessions about the messiness of life. No one is perfect, no matter how much we would like things to look that way. It is freeing to admit to the frailties of life, and proclaim that life is still good. I am still blessed. I am still loved. I am messy, but I love this crazy life. I hope you do, too.