I added a new page to Franky, My Dear…
It’s my FAITH page. I wanted one tab to direct readers to for my Faith writings. A place to streamline that foundation of what makes me tick, and what gives me Hope.
I hope these writings inspire and encourage you.
Be blessed, always.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
I’m not gonna sugarcoat this: Life is hard. I mean, it’s hard. And it’s easy to slip into the “I have it harder than you do” mentality. Trust me. Been there, done that.
It’s not much of a surprise that I’ve been pretty bitter about Life’s Lemons. Long-term unemployment. Chronic injuries. Financial fiascoes. Throw in the struggles of family and friends, and my heart is heavy with the weight of the world.
When we were young, my older brother was a wise-cracking, joke-telling genius. One of his favorites (that for some reason I played along with every time, even though I knew the ending) was when he’d say, “I can teach you a foreign language. Repeat after me.”
“Owah. Ta-jer. Kay-yam.”
Now. You say it. Out loud. Fast. Faster.
Get it now?
Here. Let me change the spelling a little bit for you:
“O-wha-tajer-kiam.”
One more time. A little more clearly.
“OH, WHAT A JERK I AM.”
Yup. That’s it. And that’s me.
I’m the Queen of the Party. The Pity Party, that is. I can feel sorry for myself quicker than you can nod your head. And it comes oh-so-naturally, I don’t even know I’m doing it.
Maybe it’s because I’ve always been more sensitive than others. Maybe it’s because I feel things deeper and harder and stronger and longer than others. Maybe I overthink or underthink or just don’t think at all.
Maybe it’s just me.
I haven’t been sleeping well for a few nights. The worries float around keeping my eyes busy with visions of things yet to come. Noise isn’t a distraction, and silence isn’t soothing. I just can’t seem to sleep very well.
So by the time I was functioning this morning, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t sick, I wasn’t angry, there wasn’t anything wrong. I was just tired. Just tired. Nothing else. And when I took the other non-possibilities out of the equation, the day seemed easier to manage.
I could drive, go to the grocery store, balance the checkbook, make dinner, clean house… all those things I didn’t want to do but should do. I did them. Because being tired isn’t an excuse to not take care of business. I wouldn’t call in sick to work just because I was tired. And right now, home is my work. And I’m the boss. I did not give myself a sick day.
And for that, I’m thankful. I’m really thankful. And I want it to show.
I still have my house. I still have my car. Dot is a full-time college student. I have family and friends. We have our health. And we have food in the house.
With all of these blessings, it struck me that I was still asking God for more than I was thanking Him for.
How’s that for gratitude?
Do I really trust Him to provide for me if I’m whining about not having milk for one day? We were able to put a full tank of gas in the car yesterday. I’m thankful we could afford it. When I ask God to give us our Daily Bread, is it honoring to Him for me to wish for more than what’s on the table? Instead of complaining that cleaning out the fridge is not our favorite meal, I’ve become extremely thankful that we have food in the fridge to begin with.
God is doing a most wonderful job of taking care of us. In ways I’m not even aware of; in ways I’ll probably never know.
I woke up this morning. In my own home with my family around me.
I’d say I’m pretty blessed.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
“Give Us This Day…”
The Adventures of Will Power and the Basket of Blessings
My Thanksgiving List
I recently had the opportunity to combine both my love of writing with my love for people. I shared a rough draft of my Study on the Ten Commandments with a dear friend who later told me Day Three really spoke to him.
After an introduction to the Study and to the Ten Commandments as a whole, Day Three introduces the reader to the First Commandment: “You shall have no other gods before me.” (NIV, Exodus 20:2). What my friend gleamed onto was a short message encouraging the reader to let go of all that distracts us from God.
God asks us to just be still. “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:10, 11). The context here is God saving us from ourselves. He is all we truly need. We just need to turn down the other noise to hear Him completely.
I’m not advocating giving up your day job in order to spend hours meditating. I believe God gives us the ability to care for ourselves and those around us, and it’s our honor to do so in His name.
But there comes a time when we allow distractions to keep us busy, to stop us from facing those things we want to avoid. We often feel if we’re not exhausted at the end of each day, we’ve accomplished nothing worth noting.
Shhhh. I have a secret.
Are you listening?
It’s okay to take a breather.
In. Out. Deep in. Hold. Deep out. Relax.
Sometimes it’s necessary to unplug and regroup. It’s important to just enjoy the quiet world around us and make our own Retreat. That quiet morning coffee? Bliss. After the kids go to bed? Nirvana. A quiet walk around the yard. A book in bed. Whatever you need to do to be still, do it.
Give yourself time to wind down from life’s busyness. Take a moment to prioritize your To-Do List. Just enjoy.
God is whispering to you. Are you listening above the noise?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
[A Study on the Ten Commandments will be available in early 2013 through New Inklings Press.]
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
More or Less: 29 Words
What I Learned on Women’s Retreat [The Big Whammy!]
Many years ago, when Dot was just an infant, I met a woman named Corrie. A remarkable young woman, named after another remarkable woman. My Corrie was named for Corrie Ten Boom. Corrie Ten Boom was a Dutch Christian who, with her family, hid Jews from persecution during World War II before being arrested. If you haven’t read her story, I strongly encourage you to do so. “The Hiding Place” is her autobiography, but she also wrote many other books and spoke often of her experiences in a Nazi Concentration Camp.
My Corrie is just as bold, outspoken, tender and friendly. Although we don’t see each other much, she still holds quite a dear spot in my heart. She and her family are integral to mine. My daughter and her niece have been close friends since before either can remember. They think they “met” each other in second grade, and a few weeks later I recognized the niece’s parents. The girls had actually been playmates as infants and toddlers before Corrie had moved to New Zealand and then Hawaii. After returning “home” for a number of years, her family has embarked on a new adventure near Las Vegas. Close enough to visit! It’s funny how God strategically places people in your life for years until you can really connect.
So you know I’ve been on a Housecleaning kick lately. That, and prayer. Boy, have we been praying. The new favorite motto around here is, “If it’s not one thing, it’s another!” On Sunday I woke up too sick to get to church. But I saw on Facebook from some friends that the passage Pastor Tom was teaching on was Jeremiah 29:11. This is my Life Verse. So it was comforting that a few people posted it online. With everything that’s going on around here, it sure is nice to know that God has a plan!
After a little while, I managed to get out of bed. I decided to check my emails, and had a Daily Verse sent to me by one of our Christian stations, Air 1. It was the same verse.
Then I checked my Daily Bible app on my cell phone. Guess what. Same verse.
I’m thinking God wants me to not worry about the upcoming week, yah?
As with every day since I cleaned house a few weeks ago, I try to accomplish one Writing Task (Not Blog Related). So far I’m doing well. Tonight I decided to sort through the last remaining paperwork. I had taken all my old notes and scraps and put them in the cat pillow decorative box.
But I hadn’t sorted it out yet. So tonight I did. While Dot printed off her Biology homework, I began a trip down Paperwork Lane.
And I’m so glad I did. I found a few cards and news clippings that I definitely want to keep. Tossed some old notes that are useless. And was reminded of several other story ideas for when Megan and I are finished with our nine (or more) book series.
And I found this bookmark. I’d been looking at the Pansy flowers often when I opened the box, but the bookmark was paperclipped to some old notes I hadn’t looked at yet.
Can you see how Pansies look like Angels with their arms outstretched, and their lovely flowing gowns?
Tonight, I unclipped and turned it over, recalling that I’d see a note from Corrie. I’d long ago forgotten exactly what she’d written. And tonight, I was reminded of love from her, and Him.
I don’t remember exactly when Corrie made that bookmark for me, but I know it’s been at least 15 years. It’s always been one of my treasures, and now it’s holding my place in my Bible.
What a wonderful way to end the day.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
More or Less: 29 Words
What I Learned on Women’s Retreat [The Big Whammy!]
Dear God, Did You Forget About Me?!
A Good Name
God is Unfair!
I’ll Fly Away
“He loves me. He loves me not.”
I know I shouldn’t. I know some people say worry is a sin. That I’m either not a good Christian, or I need to let go or… whatever it is you tell people when they say they’re unreasonably afraid.
But I am.
Often.
I’m afraid every day of the unknown.
I’m afraid that I won’t get a “real” job and I’ll lose my house. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to support my small family. I’m afraid of what would happen to the cats if something did happen to the house. Dot, notsomuch. She’s young. She’s got relatives. She’ll be okay. But I worry about being separated from her and the felines and Bedford Manor. I worry about it all the time.
I worry about car accidents. I’ve been in ten plus hit as a pedestrian. All in the last 27 years. None my fault. But I worry about more. I’m afraid of being injured again. I’m afraid of never being fully healed from past injuries. I’m afraid of being without a car, and I’m afraid now that Dot has a license.
I worry that my past concussions will interfere with my future. That I might someday need assistance to be mobile, or worse: to remember.
I worry about bad things happening to my family. What if they get injured, or worse? What if we’re separated for some reason like moving away, or death? I’m afraid of someday not being able to have coffee with my mom or talk to my brothers on the phone or watch TV with Dot.
I’m afraid that Dot’s chance for a future, a really good future, is lessened because of me. Because I’m an unemployed, single mom and we are a statistic on the poverty threshold. I worry that she’s never really had a chance to succeed, and it’s all my fault for not doing more. I worry that we won’t be able to afford the transfer to a four-year University when the time comes.
I worry that choices I made in the past about people, places, events, and opinions will affect her future.
I’m afraid of always being in debt and never being solvent. Of not being self-sufficient. Of being a burden to those around me and never being able to pay it back, or pay it forward.
I’m worried that I won’t always be able to write well. To share my thoughts, my stories, my inspirations.
And I’m worried that I will.
I’m afraid that I’ll be successful and it will change everything.
I’m afraid that my past will always haunt me. That certain people will try to sabotage me and tell me I’m not good enough. I worry about expending more energy into proving them wrong than doing things right. I’m afraid the wrong people will care and the right ones won’t.
I’m afraid of the freedoms that being a Good Writer means: publication. Payments. Solvency. Recognition. Freedom to move, to travel, to explore. Obligations to work and opportunities to play.
The chance to be balanced. To give my family a future.
To live. To live the life I have planned.
I’m afraid of trying because I’m afraid of failure. But I’m also afraid of never trying.
I worry about saying, “I don’t know what to do,” and being laughed at. I’m afraid of being mocked.
I’m afraid of being alone.
And never being heard.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
This post is linked up with Shell at
NOLA, by Molly Jo Realy
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