The Empty Nest Exigency

Props if you read this just because you wanted to know what “exigency” means.

It’s a crisis, a problem, a predicament. And I hate it when I can’t do anything to solve it.

I know this is about a week late in coming, since Mother’s Day was last weekend, but I’m super thankful for my mom. I could go on for posts and posts about how wonderful both my parents are. I could not and would not trade either of them ever. Any time I’ve ever been upset with them, it had always been because I was wrong.

And that’s sort of my point, but first, a story; a sad story.

A robin had decided to construct a nest right on the ledge over the window on our front porch at the house. It seemed like a good idea, I guess, even though my dad kept trying to lead the bird elsewhere by removing the first nest scrappings time and time again. Eventually, his efforts failed and the bird built a nest there anyway.

A few weeks I suppose went by and the robin was pretty skittish; any time any of us walked by the front porch, the mother would fly away. One day, my sister sent me a photo of the baby birds she could see, their little heads popping up over the nest.

Happy, right?

I came home a few days later in a rush to get to something or other, and quickly walked by the porch to get to the door. But I had to come back and look. After some windy weather, the nest had fallen off the ledge. The nest was empty and damaged, and the poor baby birds, three of them there, were struggling on the ground. Some were breathing, but all were unable to move.

I had my hands full, but that’s not the reason why I knew I couldn’t help them. I knew there was this thing about birds, and certainly some other animals: mothers won’t come back to them if humans touch them.

I was sad. Struck. I think I even spilled some of the tea I had in my hand. A short while later, my mom came home and said she saw them like that that morning before she left for work, and couldn’t bring herself to try to help them for fear the mother wouldn’t come back, or put them in the trash because they were still breathing.

We all said it: Maybe the mommy bird will come back for them. Maybe she’ll help them. Maybe she’ll build a new nest and find a way for them to live.

Yeah, I hoped that. I wanted that. But I knew I couldn’t fix it.

I know we aren’t birds, but I sure am thankful my mom (and dad) have kept their nest open to me. No matter where I am, I know where my home is; no dream of mine or whim could ever change that.

But perhaps what I’m most thankful for is that God never – never – abandons us. You can argue and vent and not understand why things happen the way they do, but God is actually always there. If we fall or something pushes us into danger or harm, He comes back. He finds a way for us to live in Him. The junky stuff happens because human beings are not all they’re cracked up to be. Some of us have abandoned others, but we’ve sinned, we’ve harmed, we’ve failed. And even if someone’s parents have left, God is there still.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” – Deuteronomy 31:8

And that’s a happy truth.

Reasons (just a few) why I still love going home:

1. All silliness aside, I have the best family ever. And I will leave it at that so you don’t get too jealous.
2. We have a dog and he’s really cute. Even if he likes to steal my socks.
3. I don’t have to pay for meals. :)
4. There’s a Wii and that’s fun.
5. Sister and I can be silly together.
6. It does not matter what I wear or what I look like.
7. There’s a piano!
8. We can listen to music or watch movies as loud as we want.
9. If there’s a bug, I can ask dad to kill it.
10. There’s a backyard and, you know, other significant outdoor space.

The Wisdom Worriment

Here’s what makes me frustrated: Things I don’t understand and things I can’t fix.

I know I’ve echoed this sentiment before because, well, I feel it often. For instance, this past week or so, when a storm rolled through, the gutter on my building gradually started to creak off the building. Slowly, and then very rapidly, it just fell off completely. All this rain and changing weather and there was no gutter.

It irked me.

It wasn’t so much that I was having issues on the inside of the building, thankfully. But it was there. And I couldn’t do anything about it.

Don’t get me wrong; I called the appropriate folks to alert them immediately and checked in every now and then. But then my dryer started squeaking very loudly, and my washer stopped doing the spin cycle, and…I didn’t know how to fix any of them.

I’m a fixer, an editor, a corrector, and when I can’t do those things to solve problems, I get anxious.

Which is probably why I’ve been having issues with waking up anxious lately. My job involves news, and the whole idea of “news” is that it’s fairly “new” every single day. This week, I think we can all relate: The unexpected happens, the expected doesn’t, and we don’t understand why things happen or why people do what they do.

Enter frustration.

I can pretend to have a plan or know what will help, but there’s something I’ve learned from all this: Not only can I not fix everything, but I also need wisdom and guidance to attempt to fix anything.

I don’t believe God created us to be stationary in the sense that we don’t do anything, but I do believe we are most effective when we stop for a moment and ask him what we should, in fact, do.

I’ve been trying to get out of some habits and back into others that were actually good, like reading the Bible everyday. It’s funny how much it applies at the most needed moments. The whole book of Proverbs has been especially intriguing this time around, but here’s a snippet that struck me this week:

“Sensible people keep their eyes glued on wisdom, but a fool’s eyes wander to the ends of the earth.” – Proverbs 17:24 (NLT)

My eyes haven’t been glued on wisdom; they’ve been set on what I think I know to do. Goodness knows, that qualifies as “the ends of the earth” just as much as anything.

So, no, I don’t understand a lot of things and I’m wise enough now to admit it ahead of time. I’m not always right, but I know I am when I seek God in a circumstance, in a breath, in a gut feeling.

God, I’m so glad You have it all figured out.

And now, a list of other things I don’t understand:

1. Disliking puppies
2. Why TV stations have to break up show seasons so much, like showing new episodes for three weeks then none for four then back on for five then not for two then…
3. Heels taller than three inches
4. Disney Channel, circa 2008 to present
5. “Real Housewives of…” series
6. “The Harlem Shake”
7. Why no one ever told us why Angelea was disqualified from “America’s Next Top Model” in the all-star cycle. Just. Tell us.
8. Pimples. I mean, are they really necessary, ever?
9. The “Supernatural Teen Fiction” section at Barnes & Noble
10. “Gangnam Style”

Rock on. Let’s be wise together, like adorable owls. See, look:

Adorable owl

Scene Change

Oh. Is this my blog?

Yes! It is! Gracious, it’s been an unforgivably long while.

I can make up a number of excuses to explain the extended duration, and you might respond tepidly and write them off as acceptable.

But it actually really hit me the other day how much I miss this.

One of the excuses I’ve contrived is my lack of inspiration. I’m writing a lot for other reasons and by the end of the day, words are a blur (sometimes literally) and my thoughts are goofy. Personal, thoughtful sentences don’t knit together as easily and any thoughts to actually form a thoughtful sentence are few.

My spark’s been dull.

I think that whole dullness can be explained, after I spent some time to ponder it all. I’ve been going through a lot of change, a metamorphosis, an upset in my paced routine that has altered my way of going about things. It’s had to be done. It’s been good. It’s been challenging. It’s been ever-shifting.

But during that time, I only had a limp grasp on what ought to be the thing I cling to tightest: my relationship, my friendship, my companionship with God.

Full admittance.

It’s not that I’ve not cared about it or stopped pursuing it. I just haven’t been good at it. Really. And by that I mean that I’ve built up temporary construction barriers to try to keep God from controlling my scene changes.

Like I could keep Him out.

I’ve been all, “Really, God. I’m growing up and I got this. I can do it. This is all taken care of. Just watch.”

Haha. I’m funny sometimes.

The other day, the same one I realized how much I missed this, I’m pretty sure I stared point-blank for an hour and just cried — like the little girl I’ve been trying to shove out for the past, well, long time.

I felt unusable by God. I felt stretched, torn and tired. I felt incomplete and unable. I felt pressured. And that was the first time in a long time I entirely, flat out admitted that to myself. When I admitted it to myself, I admitted it to God.

There’s a particular passage that we talked about in Sunday school class this morning that rubberstamp applies to what I feel right now:

“‘I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.’” – John 15:1-4

Jesus is talking here, and he goes on with this illustration in some wonderful ways. But I saw what I was missing: I’m a branch, but I wasn’t sticking (haha) around with the vine enough to bear any fruit.

Yuck. That just makes me think of dead fruit. Shrivelly, bruised, gross and mushy.

It’s felt bad for me lately because I haven’t been living as I was intended to. I didn’t go off the deep end or anything, but my  pride prompted me to tend to ignore God for who He is — not just a prayer service that I should take advantage of daily, or sing songs about or teach about, but my personal Savior. Like, saved-my-life Savior.

I need to remain in Him. Without water, nutrients and care, stuff dies, including ourselves. It’s not okay to think we can somehow get by without Jesus. It doesn’t work and we feel it and wonder what’s wrong when it’s actually pretty obvious.

We’re always growing. Sometimes things have to get cut out of our life or things get added. Change is a sign of growth. But we only bear fruit when we remain in the vine, Jesus Christ.

Sigh. It’s nice to just be honest about it.

Stuff I’ve learned since moving:

1. New towels will continue to produce lovely beads of lint on all of your clothes and linens for several washes. What a delightful fashion statement.
2. Command Strips, contrary to former belief, do not always work. Sometimes they like to allow lightweight mirrors to fall off the wall and shatter in the middle of the night.
3. Paying rent is a whole lot of fun.
4. If you didn’t pack all of your clothes, then you don’t have all of your clothes with you. Simple enough, right?
5. Even 18-year-olds enjoy popping bubble wrap, so don’t let your sister of the same age know you have some for packing until you are, in fact, unpacked at the destination site.
6. Night lights are great.
7. Water pressure is best when the shower is, in fact, turned completely on.
8. Scope out where the dumpster is exactly (even though you think you know where it is) before trying to find it on foot, walking around the complex with a bag of trash in your hand.
9. “Friends” is on TV a lot.
10. Ramen? No.

The Love Trade-In

Oh, my goodness! You’re right.

I haven’t blogged in a long time.

Trust me, it isn’t out of forgetfulness or a newfound shun-ment. It’s not like I haven’t been writing at all either.

Rather, quite the opposite. I’ve started a new job — my first real job — and it’s all about writing and communicating and meeting new people and touching base with others and yeah. I like it a lot.

But…BUT…I’m still working on a well-established routine that involves, you know, blogging.

Haha.

So, this is a quick post. Somewhat unfortunately, I have add plenty of topics to write about pop into the forefront of my brain and set up camp there at the most inopportune moments.

But a quick verse also springs into my mind and has been in many different circumstances as of late, especially:

“Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs.” – Proverbs 10:12

Can you imagine being immersed in such a love that erases and heals all your wrongs and failures?

It’s real, too, which almost makes it harder to put into action and receive because we can’t just shrug it off. This is something I’m constantly working on — and could use prayer to continue moving toward. No amount of violence, hatred, hurt, wrong-doing, evil or sin can be uncovered by God’s love. He works in and through every. Single. Curse.

I believe it. I’ve seen it. And what I haven’t seen, I know he can reveal if I ask him to.

On a lighter note, I’ve been thinking about simple ways I can show love to those close to me who I may easily forget to express care for:

1. Text, call, email, message, hug someone you haven’t in awhile.
2. For every poor thought you think of someone, clear it out and pray about it instead.
3. Compliment someone you may not “like.”
4. Find a task someone else does all the time and help them out with it or do it for them, like taking out the trash or cleaning up after a service at church or something.
5. Say “Thanks.” And mean it.
6. Prayyyyy moreeeee. Like those prayer requests you hear from people — and, more so maybe, the prayer requests that aren’t heard — and actually pray about them.
7. Put that phone down and listen to people.
8. Do something selfless.
9. Take an extra five minutes of time each day to spend on someone you wouldn’t normally spend it on.
10. You’re not better than everyone else, so don’t act like it. Hey, I’m not better than everyone else either.

Whaddya say?

Thirsting for Thirst

So…yeah. It’s been awhile.

It’s not like I haven’t thought about blogging about, a zillion and three times. It’d be at least once a day when I’d think, “Hmm, that would be fun maybe to blog about. Maybe. Yeah.”

And then what happens? It’s midnight, half past, or later and I’m zonked from doing a bunch of other writing the rest of the day.

It’s been packed, folks. In retrospect, I took on a lot at the same time (funny how the concept of “retrospect” works) and I’m still in the middle of it, but I can safely admit that it’s only because of God — despite my perhaps all but neglect of him — that I am making it through with the low energy I have at times.

God definitely created coffee as a blessing.

But beyond that, there’s been so much I’ve been seeing and trying to see him doing. I know he has blessed me with a lot and for that I am thankful and learning to be more thankful each day. But there’s one thing that’s been developing for awhile.

I’m thirsty for actually being thirsty for God.

I mean, have you ever not felt hungry but know you should because it’s time to eat? Sometimes you keep on forgetting to eat which isn’t good, and other times you eat because it’s that time of day or whatever and it’s just a chore more than anything.

That’s how I’ve felt with the church thing. It’s nothing my church has or hasn’t done, it’s been me, straight up.

I realized it full-on yesterday. I was sitting in my car in 100+ degree heat, thinking I was actually en route to somewhere, when all the cars in front of me on the ramp to get on the highway stop. I stop. I sit. I see no other cars moving. I turn on the radio — no news of anything. Check my Twitter feed. Nothing.

So I sat. And boy, did I have a lot of time to think.

I kept the Christian radio station on because that’s what I’ve been doing to try to keep a positive flow of thoughts in my head. It’s helped. But I looked around at the dry landscape, the simmering vehicles surrounding me and coating the highway, still, unmoving, restless.

That’s how I feel. Restless, not still or unmoving so much. And I’m realizing I need to be more still and stop and listen sometimes.

My car was starting to overheat so I kicked the air conditioner close to off and then off. It was hot. Nobody moved in traffic at all for more than 20 minutes. My work plans were scratched and I knew I had a lot to do when I got home.

Then I saw rain clouds on the distance and heard for a chance of rain on the radio. It had been more than a week since we had rain and the ground was parched from the record-breaking heat. 

And that’s when I just had this complete desire for it to rain. The refreshing kiss of water on skin, soaking into the ground, cooling the pavement, washing away dust. I wanted that so badly I almost couldn’t take it anymore.

After 45 minutes, we moved beyond the traffic cause. When the road was cleared, I shouted “I’m free!” and caught up to the speed limit just wishing for rain, hoping I would drive into it.

I realized how thirsty I was to thirst.

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?
My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, “Where is your God?” 
These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I used to go to the house of God under the protection of the Mighty One with shouts of joy and praise among the festive throng.

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” – Psalm 42:1-5

It rained. I even got to play in it warming up for a softball game. I was so happy inside and am still thirsty for more of the real refreshment that can only be found in God. Pray I’ll pursue that — I’ll pray for you. Deal?

An Anchor’s a Way

I’ve come to develop a great fondness of a certain symbol: an anchor.

In itself, it holds a few meanings and reminders for me personally. I think of my grandfather who served in the navy. I think of to whom I committed to anchor my life (God) and it reminds me to hold fast to that even when I feel I’m drifting a bit.

We all like symbolism and imagery to trigger feelings, memories and facts in our brains. Some of them are very powerful in a good or bad way, others are snappy enough to help us remember an answer to a test question or how to play a song on the piano. We try to capture these things in different ways: songs, mnemonic devices, acronyms, journaling, photographs, calendar dates and symbols.

Since my newfound regard for an anchor as a sort of symbol for my life — an imaged mantra, if you will — I’ve been noticing them pop up more here and there. I bought a ring, found it on an old beach towel, see them on clothing, neat photos on the web. But in church a few weeks ago, the image of an anchor added on a new layer for me:

“People swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.” – Hebrews 6:16-20

When I reheard this, I pictured myself floating, my only hold on an anchor. It’s not that it was holding me down in a bad way, but that it was securing my position. If it weren’t for that hope, I would float away. God has yet to prove himself wrong, and anyone who tries to prove God wrong only ends up falsifying truth or presenting more questions of his or her own beliefs, at best.

I’m not close-minded, by any means. But God is the only thing I know to work, be true and remain true in my life. I can change my mind about anything — and have from time to time — but it has yet to waver on the very real promises God has made. There’s a reason the prophecies – all of them — about Christ were fulfilled: to further bring God glory. Aren’t we lucky enough to be a part of that plan?

Well, yes. We are.

I’m thankful God is so loving. I’m thankful he is just and simultaneously forgiving. I’m thankful he is at work and proving himself over and over again. There is absolutely nothing bigger than him, so why would I want to anchor myself to anything else?

Pray I’ll continue to do that.

On a completely unrelated note pretty much, here’s a list of fun things I’ve gotten to do this summer that I highly recommend:

1. St. Louis Cardinals baseball games
2. Explore Jefferson City, Mo.
3. See “Othello” at the Shakespeare Festival in Forest Park
4. Watch “Memphis” at the Fox Theatre
5. Celebrate on some great friends getting married
6. Go to a River City Rascals baseball game
7. Enjoy Forest Park
8. Graduate!
9. Visit lots of great restaurants and eat good food
10. Rest!

Amen?

If you’re like me, and have been going to church your whole life, you may feel, at times…

(Oh, goodness, I hate this word so much it pains me to type it…)

Stagnant. Bleck. Ew, I said it. Stagnant.

I mean, the church has become a place. And, yes, while the intention is for the people in the church to be the church, I wouldn’t say that’s always the case.

Instead of a band of people with a common goal, we become the people who smile at others to appear friendly when, in reality, we may not actually want to be there.

We greet each other at “greeting time” or something similar. We ask for prayer requests and sometimes remember to keep praying for these things throughout the week.

Sometimes.

We come, we do our thing and then we go. We tackle parenthood, our jobs, educations, families and friends, finances, pressures, maintenance, households, assignments, health…we forget.

I hate to say this, because it puts me in the same boat, but I’m sad to be there. This half-hearted (or less) version of church we’ve created is not what it was created to be.

Don’t get me wrong — I love the people, I love our end vision, I love the glimpses of passion that peek through. I love seeing us all come together to help each other out. I love being encouraged by others engaged in real worship.

But that doesn’t happen all that often.

In our case, the blame doesn’t fall on our leaders or a particular group of people even. It’s everybody. We’re all in it together. While one person cannot care for every member of the congregation, especially not on top of all the other people in a person’s life one must care for, that chain reaction is stopping somewhere.

I consider myself one to blame. I feel strongly about this because I want more from us. This isn’t just about a “church” — it’s about the church, the body of believers around the world but primarily in our nation.

I can’t speak for others, but this is certainly heavy on my heart. We need a revival. Badly. Wouldn’t you say? No amount of production or equipment or programming can solve that. It’s active love that’s pure at heart.

This is a description of the fellowship of believers in the early church:

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” – Acts 2:42-47

Ugh. Don’t you want that? It makes my heart ache I want it so bad. I want us all to see how we can love in the truest sense. No more of the so-so, stale, Sunday-morning happy feelings. Let’s make it something fresh that can only come from God.

Pray with me about this. Let’s encourage each other and dedicate time to spend with God ourselves, individually. It’s amazing to think what can be brought to the table then. Enough of Bible studies, small groups, Sunday school, church services…let’s make it a complete way of life we can’t wait to be a part of time and time again.

Amen?