Change

Change is one of my least favorite things.  That's just the creature of habit in me.  Even "good" change requires an adjustment to life.  Change also requires a good deal of faith, faith that the new routine will trump the previous and not leave you sitting on a corner in the middle of nowhere shaking your head and wondering how you ended up there.  Life is not a vacuum.  It requires that you take risks and step out on faith.  Yet another thing I have to work on daily.

Yet you can't do life without change.  Without the lows you can't truly appreciate the highs.  You can't have one but not the other.  It just doesn't work that way.  You can't just eat the M&Ms out of the trail mix, you have to eat all of the trail mix--even those pesky raisins.

The "lows" are notorious for literally bringing me to my knees.  Surrendered and broken.  I cry, crawl into Jesus' lap, and let His promise of better days to come wash over me.  Those moments are precious.  They're the reason that I can continue on despite the hurdles around me; I can't do it alone.  Only by God's strength do I engage with the world around me.  It's never easy, but that's a given.

Another day, another valley, another chance to crawl into Jesus' lap and let him soothe the pain from inevitable change.  Yet another lesson to learn and grow from. 

So, today I will cling to Matthew 11:28-30 and the quiet embrace from Jehovah-Shalom.  And I'll let tomorrow worry about itself.

Happiness is...

A blissfully unadulterated moment alone.
A memory shared between close friends.
Knowing you're precisely where God wants you to be.
The peace that comes from fully surrendering everything.
A cold sprinkler on a hot summer day.
A real conversation.
Driving with the windows down, music blaring, and no schedule.
Meeting genuine people who immediately make you feel welcome.
Loving what you do for a living.
Taking a lazy afternoon nap.
Seeing God's hand in the midst of trouble.
A kind comment from a stranger.
A hug from someone who cares.
Surrounding yourself with friends and family.
Taking a risk every now and then.
Knowing you did something to help, even if no one else saw.
Watching the sunset.
Catching up with an old friend.
Being who you were meant to be--and loving it.

Brother and sister

My brother and I fought all the time in elementary school and junior high.  In fact, I attribute some of my very excellent organization skills to this fact; my punishments for fighting with my brother frequently involved cleaning a closet or a kitchen cabinet.  We didn't start getting along until high school, and then for a while my brother was my best friend.  Of all the people in the world, my brother knows me the best. 

We haven't always been the best of friends, and he hasn't always dated girls that I liked, but we found our rhythm and he found an amazing girl.  He's getting married in September and I couldn't be happier for him, truly.

He's ready to get married, go to grad school out of state, and then join the Peace Corps with his wife.  I love his passion for water and third-world countries.  I just love him more.

I try to hold on to every spare moment that I have left before he moves away and I see him infrequently.  We were riding home from a family reunion, just me and my brother, and the thought that it might be the last time was slightly overwhelming.

I guess the lesson here is to appreciate the time you have had and optimize the time you have left with the people you love.  Life changes, regardless of my preferences, and God is in control.  I wish I had started sooner, but I suppose everyone feels that way.

The "worry" rocking chair

"Worry is like a rocking chair; it will give you something to do but it won't get you anywhere."

"The beginning of anxiety is the end of faith.  The beginning of true faith is the end of anxiety." - George Müller

I'm half-way through a fabulous book called Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow.  I will admit, I was excited about this book when I bought it.  I immediately opened it up and started digging in only to realize the amount of "reconstructive" work that would be necessary to read such a book.  I subsequently set it down and let it sit on the shelf for a year and a half collecting dust.  I was too busy to do all the work, I would just "deal with it later".

I've had issues sleeping for years.  In fact, the problem of waking up numerous times a night was starting to get debilitating.  I was sick and tired of being tired all the time.  Action time.  I got my doctor referral and visited a sleep center where I did an overnight study (I'm not even going to go into how weird the whole experience was.)  At my follow up appointment my doctor essentially said "yeah, there's nothing wrong with you; you just worry too much."

Armed with the knowledge that the issue was literally "all in my head".  I picked the book back up again.  Almost as it had been waiting for me to come back to my senses and read it, there it was, right where I left it.  It's requiring some effort and some honest realizations, but I can already see the fruit of progress.

If you're anything like me, you struggle with control and worry.  Sure, I'd given God most of the doors in my life, but I held on to a few.  The ones that meant the most to me.  The ones that I just couldn't relinquish control to.  The unnecessary worry associated with trying to juggle these remaining rooms is too much, but the thought of no control at all almost gives me a "deer in the headlights" sort of response.

I've had a note card with the verse Philippians 4:6-7 for years.  "Don't worry about anything, instead pray about everything.  Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.  Then you will experience God's peace which exceeds anything we can understand.  His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."

I want that peace.  In fact, the visual picture that I get when thinking about that peace is a hammock, a cold drink, and a warm day on a sandy beach somewhere.  All encompassing relief from the prison of anxiety and worry.  In order to get that peace though, I have to open the doors and unclench my hands.

It's not exactly an easy process, but if my hammock and cold drink are waiting on the other side, I think I'll be alright.  I'm on the path though and I can see the sand in the distance.