Continuing in the Desert

There was no sudden event.  Perhaps there was, but I didn't realize it at the time.  Sadly, I don't even know how long I've been here.

The Land Between.

The land where dreams lay unrealized.  Passions are left to be discovered.  Life loses its luster, and the difficulties of life seem overwhelming.

Last summer, I finally realized where I was.  God made it abundantly clear that I was stuck in the Land Between.  He showed me that I wasn't ready to move forward, I didn't trust enough--I wasn't ready for the "Promised Land".  I still had things to learn.

I accepted it with grit.  Happy to know where I was, but disappointed at the road ahead of me.  Work to be done.  My thoughts all seemed to center around the fact that I was in the middle of the desert.  Without a clear beginning or clear end I struggled.  I wanted to know when I could expect to depart from the desert.  That's not what God promises though.

As I'm reading through Jeff Manion's book The Land Between I'm finally seeing some of the similarities between myself and the Israelites.  "God's people", the ones he led out of Egyptian slavery and cared for in the desert.  The grumbling, complaining, un-trusting people group who we all have a tendency to roll our eyes at when we read about them.  How could they not see God's provision?  How could they not trust that God would lead them?  Great questions.  Great similarities.

I trust that God will lead me, I really do.  I also have a tendency to forget that all too often.  I get my mind completely wrapped around something that I think I deserve (food better than "manna"?) and when it doesn't actualize itself, I complain.  I'm positive that I could do it better myself.  I'm trapped in the slavery of mistrust.  God's saying "watch me, know me, and learn to trust me."  Yet I struggle.  I think I know better, but I really don't.

I'm in the Land Between, or as I wrote about it before, The Desert of Disappointment.

"The Land Between may provide our greatest opportunity for transformational growth, but it also provides an enormous opportunity for bitter resentments to flourish--for faith to shrivel."  Jeff points out that this is a pivotal place in our life.  We have the choice of which road we want to go down.  Transformational growth or bitter resentment.  Jeff also says "It is critical to recognize that (it's) not simply the hardship, but also our reaction to the hardship (that) is forming us."  This is a great reminder that our actions, as we deal with a painful situation, have the same power to change us as the original event did.  The road we take can be as transformational as the event that pointed us down that road.  The process starts right away.

Jeff talks about the Israelites and their penchant to complain.  As they continue to complain, they continue to give up their opportunity to trust God.   Complaining and trust don't coexist.  They're making a choice with God.  Their act of complaining sends the message to God that "we don't trust you to provide."  What's really interesting is that God attempts to teach them the same lesson over and over again.  Basic need being unmet + Israelites complain = God steps in.  God's looking for His children to trust Him, and they're not getting it.  So they must learn the same lesson over and over and over again.  And it's really easy for me to look down and see all of God's provisions for their lives and wonder how they could be so ungrateful and not willing to trust, but I do exactly the same thing today. 

This is their training ground.  This is the preparation time for the Israelites.  This is where God teaches them what they'll need to know once they get to His Promised Land.  They waste their growth opportunities with whining and complaining.  Wishing things were different and longing for the comfort of slavery.  In a sense, this is sort of their incubator.  This is where God wants them to grow up.

I wish I could say that I was out of the desert.  That I had figured things out and learned all those lessons I was supposed to get the first time around.  That I didn't frequently feel frustrated and whine because life didn't go the way I planned.

It's New Years Eve abd I'm at home alone.  No invites to any parties.  I'd spend the night hanging out with my parents, but they're not in town either.  So instead, I've sat here for the last hour and just feeling sorry for myself.  My fear that I don't really have any friends who care about me doesn't really hold much water.  How silly to even see that in print, yet it shocks me to my core regardless.  I don't trust that God is enough for me.  This is a prime example of me just not getting it.

Another lesson that God is all I need.  Another day in the desert.

Time

There is a beauty in waiting.  A patient kind of gift.  One I generally don't appreciate fully.

Time, to me, is invaluable.  I plan my day, my schedule, my errands.  I allot my time accordingly. 

My view of time is flawed though.  Limited in its scope.  All I can see is my immediate time table.  The rush I am in to get from A to B.  The things I must forgo in order to accomplish something else.

For whatever reason, I'm feeling compelled to appreciate a different kind of time.  A slower, less structured time.  God's timing. 

He requires me to wait on Him when I would rather forge ahead.  When I wait and rest in Him, beautiful things happen, but only in His timing. 

So tonight, I'm going to see the beauty in time, not my own, and rest and appreciate the beauty of waiting on God.

New door hardware

I've been rushing through home-improvement projects for the last couple of months to get my house "ready" for relatives visiting at Christmas.  I'm not naturally gifted with hospitality, but I was excited to share my new house with family, so I rolled up my sleeves and started furiously working through my mental project list.

LOTS of painting, more spray painting, some installed shelves, lots of new furniture, hanging (and purchasing) wall art, caulking, more painting, and then finally finishing my doors and installing new hardware!

My house was built in 1920, and while many things have been updated since it was built (hooray for vinyl windows, AC, and the addition of a second bathroom!), the vintage doors remain.  I loved that they were painted white (along with the trim in the house), but the hardware was a bit of a mess.  At some point the owners decided that painting over the hardware would be the easiest route.  Layers of paint were encrusted over the screw heads on the door plates and mortise locks.  Boo. 

I had my heart set on these vintage glass knobs.  The old ones were (presumably) brass knobs that had also been painted (most of them black).  Ick.  After taking off all the hardware on one of my doors to figure out how it worked, I purchased the glass knobs.

 

Here is a picture of the ugly painted hardware with my new glass knobs--just for kicks.

But I wasn't about to leave the painted hardware as is.  Especially since the current door hardware didn't really fit my new knobs.  So I purchased some new door hardware.  I don't think it's actually vintage (like the knobs), but it was created to look vintage, so I'm okay with it.  

I then proceeded to take the hardware off of all of the doors.  This required chipping away the paint over the screws (with a screwdriver), prying the paint-covered brass hardware off the doors, and desperately trying to keep from seriously injuring myself in the process.  Although I did find some interesting objects that had been stuffed through the lock holes, including a piece of a Lite Bright (oh, childhood memories!)  Without knobs (but with the locks), my roommate and I did manage to lock ourselves in one of the rooms once.  Oops.  Thankfully only once.

Then I had to sand down the edges of approximately four coats of paint where the door hardware met the painted door.  Fun stuff.  Plus I got to fill a botched deadbolt addition to one of the doors.  What do they always say: Measure twice, cut once?  Someone should remind whoever decided to install the lock that cutting the hole through the door too big would leave gaping holes around the installed hardware.  Definitely had to go.  And sorry, it was too hideous to photograph.  So I spent an afternoon filling it with wood filler, and then another evening sanding it down.

Before (see the ugly black-painted knob & poorly installed deadbolt?):

Once the doors (there are six) were sanded (and appropriate wood filler/putty was put on them) I was finally able to repaint them.  One side at a time.  Thankfully the doors were only sans hardware for a week.  Then I stripped the paint off the exterior of the mortise locks. (Side note: paint/varnish stripper really hurts if it gets on your skin.  Be smarter than me, wear gloves if you use it!)

And finally, on Christmas Eve, I was able to install the new hardware, clean mortise locks, and new knobs.  Finally, operating doors!

After:

Just in time to host my first family Christmas gathering yesterday.  Hooray!

And now I'm officially on a painting sabbatical.  I'm determined to just sit around and enjoy my house as it is before starting on my next project, at least for a little while.

Sadness

Sometimes the sadness is just overwhelming.  The clouds impose their gloom and people seem to refuse to smile.

Some days I wish I could have back.  Some thoughts I wish would just go away.  Some people I just wish I could see.  Some dreams I wish would just disappear.

Mostly I just wish I understood.  That I didn't feel tired constantly.  That I didn't constantly wonder what's not-quite good enough about me.  That the next step wasn't clouded in darkness.  That life would give me some sort of guarantee.

Apparently not today.

***And then I read John Stumbo's weekly blog that just so happens to post on Thursdays.  There's the hope and reassurance that I needed so bad this morning.

"So, to all my friends who carry some sorrow this Christmas…to all my friends who quietly suffer in some way this season…I declare to you that your hardship may not be a sign of His displeasure. In fact, the very opposite might be true.

He’s trusting you. He’s entrusted something significant to you. And, it just might be that this Christmas, He’s bragging to a couple angels about you."

Six Word Memoirs

There is a legend that Ernest Hemingway was once asked to write a story in six words.  No more, no less.  So he sat down and did it.  He came back and said that it was the greatest story he'd ever written:

"For sale. 
Baby shoes. 
Never worn."

Wow.  Absolutely amazing that you can form an entire story in just six words.

As an SLF team-building exercise we were challenged to take the task of "six word memoirs" a little more personal.  We were supposed to look back to the last couple of months in our lives and write a memoir that tells the story.  Silly examples were thrown out, along with really profound ones.  No wrong answers.

It was one of those experiences that I want to share with everyone now.  When forced to pair down something so big into so few words you really have to think it through.  I found that it was incredibly reflective and clarifying.  Not to mention just a great way to look back on the last couple of months and take inventory of where I've been and where I'm headed.  I love to see progress.

Here are a couple of mine:

"Closed doors.  Open windows.  God's plan."

"Lost hope.  Reconciliation.  By God's grace."

If you've never done a six word memoir before, do it!  Give yourself ten minutes, a piece of paper and a pen and let your mind wander.  It's interesting to see what experiences come to mind.  What are some of yours?

Prayers

I read this on Steven Furtick's blog (Strange Packaging) today.  How true.  How beautiful.

"The package might not look like you thought it would. But it’s going to help you become the person you should.

Our best prayers are often the ones that the Holy Spirit interprets, filters, and presents to God in such a way that it gives us exactly what we need even if it’s not exactly what we want (Romans 8:27). Or gives us what we want in a way that we don’t want or couldn’t have imagined."

Blessing

It's funny.

I never would have volunteered had I not felt like God called me to this ministry. But if I had never volunteered I never would have met some fellow leaders who have become some of my best friends, and I would have missed out on meeting some of the greatest high school students ever.

I'm here for a reason--of this I'm certain.

The best part is that God put me here, and he knew. He knew what I needed and where I could be most useful.

Following His direction has turned into a blessing. A jump into the unknown, a scary leap, but it has turned out even better than I could have imagined.