Feb 3, 2012
We’ve all heard it before. You can’t predict your life. Things happen. What you have designed for your life is not what God has designed for your life.
Blah.
Blah.
BLAH.
When I was a child, I lived in Michigan and planned to live in California and become a famous actress. Or a teacher. And I’d write about my dreams.
When I was a teenager, we moved to California and I planned to work at Disneyland. Or marry John Stamos. And I’d write about my dreams.
When I was in my 20’s, I went to college and planned to become an award-winning news journalist. And I’d write about my dreams.
When I was in my 30’s, I was a single mom trying to make ends meet. I planned to marry rich and spend the day being a carefree housewife. Or live in New York. And I’d write about my dreams.
Now I’m in my 40’s.
I thought by now I’d be married. I thought by now I’d be published. I thought by now my name would be known. I thought by now I’d be fairly debt free, fairly financially stable, fairly living where the grass is greener.
Life.
I still live in California.
I’m still a single mom.
I still believe in God.
And I still write. About my dreams. About my memories. And everything in between.
I write.
All the time.
“Life is what happens when you make other plans…”
I always tell people, I was born to write. I have ink instead of blood. I keep my fingernails clipped short to make it easier to type. I always carry a notebook and pen wherever I go. I have my own brand of shorthand, and I know how to write in the dark.
I can be inspired to write a sonnet by looking in a landfill of trash.
When I go to a movie, it has to be a really good one to keep me from being distracted with thoughts of “I could write that better” or “this scene should have been written this way”.
I have yet to make a living with my writing. I don’t have any national awards on my resume yet. People aren’t sending me fan mail. Yet.
But this I know:
I’m not settling for a change of plans.
I was born to write.
And I am really good at what I do.
I’m just waiting for the rest of the world to realize it.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Jan 20, 2012
Recently, my mother was certain she saw a fox in her front yard. A fox! That may not be news for some of you, but this is the desert of Southern California. We’re used to things like tumbleweeds and roadrunners and Wile E. Coyote.
Every so often we get things in our little city that come down from the mountains. Creatures like black bears and mountain cats. Bobcats have certainly been making the rounds lately. But, again, a fox?! Are you sure?!
And she was. But she almost doubted herself. Why? Because. Society tells us if it isn’t normal then it just can’t be. The word “impossible” permeates our vocabulary and gets into our very subconscious, fighting against what we know is true and right.
My mom saw a fox. Even if no one else saw it but her. How do I know? She’s my mom. She could have just said “I saw a fox today” and that would have been enough for me. But she went beyond that. She offered me verbal evidence: she detailed its appearance, its mannerisms. And for several days we checked facts online: how do foxes live, sleep, eat, raise their young? We saw the den it tried to make. We saw the leaves where it slept. Everything pointed to the same conclusion: my mom was lucky enough to make eye contact with a beautiful fox in her own yard.
It got me thinking. Recently I went through a bit of a discussion with God. I keep telling Him I trust Him. But I certainly don’t act like it. When the funds are low, I pray, “Thank you God for getting us through this day,” and then I cry to myself in fear and anxiety.
I read the Bible, full of miracles and awe and wonder, and I claim that same God as my own. But when I’m faced with stepping off a ledge, do I really believe He will catch me?
I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve let the physics of this world interfere with my Faith in His. For whatever reason, God brought to mind a conversation I’d had many years ago with someone from my church. We were talking about finances and life and all things in between and my friend suggested a necessary expense I thought was unaffordable. “How?!” I remember crying out. “How am I supposed to do that?!” Back then I was fairly new in my faith. But not now. Now I’m firm. Cemented in the Foundation that God Is, Was, and Always Will Be. And I’m still crying out, “How?!”
I already trust my Mom completely. I need to trust my Daddy-God more. Not just say it. I’m not afraid to ask Him for favors; why am I afraid to trust He’ll actually provide them?
The moral of this little post is this: If God tells me there’s a fox in the yard, I’m gonna believe Him. Period. I don’t need to find the evidence. That’s just confirmation of what I already know: He’s trustworthy. Period.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Dec 25, 2011
Will Power was excited. It was the time of year when the world was abuzz about winter, Christmas, and Santa Claus. Will Power had heard about Santa Claus and looked forward to meeting him.
He sat down to write out his wish list.
But he soon found himself overwhelmed.
In this season of good cheer and gift giving, it didn’t feel right to ask for so much for himself. But the world said it was okay.
He was at a loss.
Everywhere he turned, there was always something more to want. The world kept telling him so. He needed this and needed that. He must want everything, and if he didn’t want or need it, he certainly should know someone who did.
There was so much glitter, so much shine, so much of so much… he felt like this Christmas was just a Carousel going ’round and ’round and he wasn’t sure how to make it stop.
He just knew there had to be more to Christmas than getting gifts, and went in search of it.
He found a Christmas Tree. It was tall and beautifully decorated. It urged him to “believe”, but he still wasn’t sure what to believe in.
He needed help. He found himself wandering, wondering; and hoping for help.
Soon he came upon a gathering. It was a simple display. The kind that invited attention through its lack of fanfare. There was something very special. Very special, indeed.
He studied. There were no great light displays. No special sales or advertising or promises of ease and comfort. It was quiet. It was peaceful. And it was the most personal Gift he could ever need.
And in the peace, and quiet, and humility of a perfect baby being born in less than perfect conditions to a less than perfect world, Will Power understood.
It’s not about the gifts you get. It’s about the Gift that was given.
He raced home as fast as he could to finish His letter. But instead of asking Santa for anything, he had a much better idea in mind:
From our house to yours, a very Merry Christmas.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Dec 21, 2011
I just watched “The Nativity Story” on dvd. I’d borrowed it from my friend Julie nearly a year ago but never watched it until today. And I admit, I cried.
Just earlier today I realized there’s only five days til Christmas and I had yet to feel that Christmas feeling. That certain feeling of peace and joy that I get regardless of what’s going on in the world around me. That certain feeling that everything’s alright, even now. That certain, indescribable, feeling.
And I can finally say, while watching this movie, I found that feeling. It’s not about how many gifts we have or don’t have under the tree. It’s not about what foods we’ll eat this weekend. It’s not even about making it to Church on Christmas Eve with the family or visiting with friends through the week.
It’s just about… well, it’s about being still. And being at peace with whatever comes.
I adore this movie for how it portrays Mary and Joseph in their marriage. They’re in it together. He didn’t just hang on the sidelines while Mary and God did all the work. Joseph fought for her, protected her, cared for her. Accepted her completely. And gave his name to her baby.
Mary didn’t just follow him. She respected him. She got to know Joseph as a person, as her husband. She let him share in her pregnancy and didn’t shut him out. She needed him. She loved him.
Now, there are some Christmas stories that are so ingrained in my upbringing that even though I “know” them, sometimes to think about them takes me by surprise. And this movie did just that. I found myself realizing things I hadn’t considered before; things that made me stand more in awe of God and His power; and of Mary and Joseph, individually and together.
Mary could have, should have, been stoned to death for conceiving before her marriage ceremony. Joseph was willing to quietly walk away so that wouldn’t happen. After all, his reputation was on the line. Here he was, a Good Guy, and his betrothed is already pregnant! Mary didn’t have to return to Joseph. She could have stayed far away with her cousin Elizabeth. But that would have meant breaking her promises. And Mary was a Good Girl. So she returned.
After the Holy Spirit refreshed and instructed him, Joseph took Mary to be counted in the census at Bethlehem. And that’s when my thinking really started.
At the age of sixteen, this young woman is pulled from her family, from her mother and father. She is on a difficult trip with a man she hardly knows. And she’s pregnant. Who does she turn to? What does Joseph see in her? Did she cry herself to sleep out of fear and loneliness? Did she trust God completely and not worry at all? Or was it a little bit of both?
What went through Joseph’s mind? Did he know he’d be a good dad, because God Himself chose him for the part? Or was he worried? How did he comfort Mary, his wife yet a stranger, as she gave birth otherwise alone in a manger? Did he feel helpless and alone too?
At what point did Mary and Joseph stop being strangers in each others’ minds; and think of each other as husband-and-wife not in title, but in love?
When Jesus was born, how often did they cradle him and wish it could be different? That they could stop the world from invading their family, stop the evil that required the life of their son? And when the Lord’s Angel sent them to flee into Egypt, what did that do to their plans to return home to see Mary’s family again?
Did Mary ever wish it hadn’t been so, or did she always just say, “I am the Lord’s servant.”?
Here they are, parents to the Greatest Person Who Ever Lived, and they run in the dark, they flee into hiding. Their hearts are always burdened, always broken. Being the parents of the King is not always a joyous position.
But they did it.
No matter what.
They did it. They assumed their responsibilities. And they didn’t let God down.
I’m sure it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t fun.
But it was worth it.
It had to be.
They were parents of The King.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Dec 20, 2011
The other day I was driving on Main Street when I came upon a slow moving car, following a slow bulldozer trying to make its way in traffic. The three of us, and others, stopped in line for a red light.
That’s when I saw it.
The license plate.
The vanity plate.
It wasn’t anything special. And it took me a moment to figure it out.
And then I realized. I’ve seen that plate before. On a different vehicle. Years ago.
And then I realized…
It must be driven by one of them. A member of that family; his family.
That license plate is a vanity plate belonging to the family of a former boyfriend.
And I’m driving right behind them.
Oh, joy.
It’s been about 15 years since I broke up with him and his family. And every now and then I see him about town. And every time, I get a little snobby. A little proud. A little taller. A little How Do You Like Me Now? attitude.
I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s vain. But let’s be real. If he was a keeper, I would have kept him. Right?
There’s a reason (or two… or ten) why that relationship ended, and I don’t for a moment miss it. I love the person I’ve become since then. But every now and then, I’m reminded that even I am capable of making really stupid choices.
The point is, to pick up and move on. And I’ve done that. Every now and then it’s okay to look back and see how far I’ve come, how I’ve changed, how I’ve grown.
But every now and then, I guess I get a little arrogant. I don’t mean to. But every now and then, I take a little pride that on those few-and-far-between days that he spies me out and about, I still look better than I did. I still stand up for myself, and am nobody’s doormat.
Most of all, the dreams we had 15 years ago… well, mine are coming true. And since he’s still in this general area, I know for a fact his are not.
The light turned green. And in that split-second writer’s inspiration that I get, I thought it was very apropo as I accelerated and drove around the slow moving, road-blocking tractor and car making their turn down another road.
Did they recognize me? I have no idea. I’m not one to keep looking in the rear-view mirror. I just prayed as I passed and happily thought There but for the Grace of God go I.
