Tangibility

February 16th, 2010

8:26pm
On a common Tuesday, this post might be replaced by some alternately witty, profound, silly or introspective list of ten things. It would be some concise presentation of what’s been going on in my mind–something boiled down to a few words or a few descriptions. Sometimes it would expand itself to a Tuesday twenty-five or morph into a Thursday thirty–fruit of an overzealous mind or a week procrastinating about more important things. The concept for the Tuesday Ten series was honestly conceived as a way to facilitate a quick post, a catalyst for easily writing something during the middle of the week. Not so today.

8:30pm
Try as I might, I couldn’t even come up with a measely list of ten today. I’ve written before about the smoke and mirrors afforded to me by WordPress Dude. You know, the ability to germinate on posts in my queue while giving the impression that something described as “last night” actually was so. It’s not always true. (gasp!) No, sometimes when I say “tonight” it actually means several nights ago, or several months ago. I know. It’s a little opaque, and I usually try not to deceive in that way, but I’ll admit that sometimes the time markers are just a flat out lie. The sentiments are real, to be sure. It’s just the time frame that is occasionally all wonky. I’m working on such a post right now, one that describes an occurence from last Friday. I intended to write it that night, but alas, I lost my motivation. So now, several days later, the “last night” is no longer really “last night.”

Admittedly, this confessional paragraph is probably a little over-cooked and unnecessary. Nevertheless, I’ve included it to underscore the fact that tonight’s post is different. I’m writing in real time.

8:38pm
I tried this experiment once before during my 12 Days of Thanksgiving last year. I used it then–like I’m using it now–to provide a little self-intervention, coaxing myself into a better frame of mind. So, while I’m distracted by checking the score of the Mississippi State/Kentucky basketball game and starting the dishwasher and listening to one of the many updates about the car chases happening on the coffee table, I’m also writing to redirect myself.

8:44pm
I feel disconnected today.

I spend much of my time connecting things — marketing budgets with preferred advertising opportunities, brands with their favored potential customers, little boys with their juice cups and stuffed animals, a little girl with her “poppy” or board book, hamburger meat with the appropriate spices, etc. Yet today, I find myself disconnected. From myself. I’ve been in that solitary place of being at a safe, but uncomfortable distance from my own thoughts, from my own hopes, from understanding what matters to me, from the tangible realities that motivate my passions. Does that ever happen to anyone else?

I’m lonely today, lost in that place where I can’t put my finger on any one thing, any one feeling, any one desire. I find myself distracted by the constant motion of my own wandering, and removed from the tangible connections of real living. I’m avoiding. Hiding. Shielding. Hedging.

I read a statement yesterday to the effect that LIVING is more than simply breathing in and out. That one stuck. While the inhale and exhale of life is necessary, the fact of its involuntary nature lacks the intention that moves me beyond mere existence. It’s quantity, but not quality. It’s a breath, pure and simple. And while pure and simple may fulfill the body, it doesn’t speak to the sigh or heave or gasp or laugh or whistle or sniff that could touch my soul and spirit. Today, I’m not feeling the expansion of my lungs that a deep breath should afford. I’m not feeling the expansion of my perspective. There’s a disconnect somewhere–somewhere between the ordinary of existence and the extra-ordinary of living. I’m afraid the breakdown occurs in my own attention to detail. I need a fresh view of even the monotonous and seemingly insignificant gestures that really connect me to people and relationships and experiences (both near and far)–those that connect me to the world I live in, to the LIFE I want to really live. I need a shot of tangibility, something that brings me back to myself, something that reconnects me with what matters. To me.

9:06pm

10:17pm
I feel myself wanting to experience freshly, or for the first time, the little everyday tangible things that constitute living, familiary and connection. The things that bring near those who are far. The things that remind me of important times. The things that show me what’s changed. What’s the same. The things that cause me to see what’s right in front of me. The things that let me know life is alive.

10:30pm
For the next 15 minutes I’m making a Tangible Life list and checking it twice. Hello, intervention!

Handwriting. A four-year-old boy lingering in my lap. The smell of whole wheat pasta cooking. The inflection of a voice. The subtle shift in a smile when it’s tired. A well-chosen phrase. Finishing a conversation. Hearing something you need to hear. Hard-working hands. Vibrant color. Blue cloudless skies. Rinsing a little girl’s hair. Being asked to play with trains. Playing with trains. Turning the pages of a book. An unencumbered grin. A hearty laugh. Postage stamps. Little boys who “help.” Singing songs. Moving to music. A phone call with my mother. Hearing my father say “I love you.” A familiar quilt. A good vocabulary. Three-year-old arms around my neck. A dishwasher that works. A little girl’s giggle. Wooden spoons. Dinner at a restaurant. Chocolate ganache. Sweetened iced tea. A crisp February. Shiny earrings. Soft sweaters. Honey mustard. Drools. Car chase sounds. Dinosaur fights. The sound of a saxophone. Wiping a tear. Blowing a nose. Washing a blanket. The sound of a laptop keyboard. Blue jeans. Black boots. Soft touches. Kind words. Wide open smiles. Down pillows.

10:45pm
These things and experiences let me know this day is real. And, this day is all I know I have. Connection made.

Filed under Day + Day | Comment (0)

1st Day of Thanksgiving: Lessons Revisited

November 16th, 2008

In my quest for a renewed season of thanksgiving, I was looking again at an old journal (the actual pen to paper kind), and an entry from Thanksgiving Day, November 24, 2002. For me, life, and intimate spiritual life in particular, seems to move in cycles where I experience and learn, re-experience and re-learn similar lessons. Sometimes I have forgotten or been distracted from a truth and need a refresher course. Sometimes God brings me full circle on an issue so that I can gain a deeper understanding that builds on past lessons. I’m not sure which one this is, but I was contemplating the season then, too.

I was going through a time of doubt and confusion, and maybe even a little fear of God. I don’t mean the reverent, awe-inspiring kind of fear. This was the scared, white-knuckle grip, hiding kind of fear of what He might expect of me. I found myself actually afraid to draw near to God because I was afraid that he would take something precious from me. I was persevering through struggles where answers and purpose were hard to find. I had grown to doubt His character made so evident in the Bible.

This is starting to sound familiar!

In my journal, I was meditating on a few psalms and the idea of thanksgiving as a gateway. Actually, just two phrases:

“…Come before His presence with thanksgiving.” (psalm 95:2)
“Enter His gates with thanksgiving…” (psalm 100:4)

My musings included a prayer in four parts that offers a refresher course for this season. It’s still a worthy meditation, and a good starting point for my 12 Days of Thanksgiving experience. Here’s what I wrote:

“Perhaps, this is the first step in getting rid of the doubt and fear that has taken over my relationship with God.

1. I repent of a complaining and murmuring spirit, and ask God’s forgiveness for taking His character and blessings for granted.

2. I ask Him to open my eyes to His goodness that is evident in my life, His faithfulness, His love and mercy.

3. I choose the thank Him for what He shows me. I thank Him for His works. I thank Him for His character.

4. I ask that this Thanksgiving season be a new turning point in my relationship with God. Let me enter Your courts this season.”

Amen.

Filed under Soul + Spirit, Verse Views | Comment (0)

Evidence of Spring

October 24th, 2008

It’s late October and in Mississippi, just today, we’ve started to get a touch of truly Fall weather. I believe it’s the first day that the temperature is expected to stay in the mid-sixties with a low in the lower forties tonight. It’s cloudy and a little drizzly. My boys are excited to have our pumpkins and scarecrows out on the porch and throughout the house. I’m one of those decorate-for-every-season types, and I love this time of year. My birthday is October 28th, so the month has become almost like New Year’s Day for me. Internally, it represents family celebrations, the start of a season of evaluating the year, a relief from the oppressive doldrums brought on by summer’s heat, and a renewed, crisp attitude toward the tasks at hand. Although the rest of the world outside may be preparing for a season of dormancy, Autumn always seems more like a fresh start for me–sort of like Spring in October.

This October, however, there has been a dampening of my enthusiasm and spirit. I’ve been a little down-trodden, wrestling with my insides and trying to navigate a challenging time for our family. An amalgamation of overwhelming financial and work concerns, confusing parenting concerns and the upcoming bittersweet end of my maternity leave has shaken my defenses against discouragement. I can normally readily find hope and faith despite the challenges, but this October I feel shaken. We are at a time when it is hard to discern what God is doing in our lives, where he is taking our family.

This morning I read a post from a friend and fellow-blogger that was like rain for me. It brought fresh evidence of God’s hand and reminded me of one of my favorite re-aligning, faith-building verses:

“So, let us know, let us press on to know the Lord. His going forth is as certain as the dawn; and He will come to us like rain, like the spring rain watering the earth.” (hosea 6:9)

Kristi writes a blog called To Walk on Fertile Ground and has also published a book with the same title about her walk with God through cancer and infertility. The post marks the 5-year anniversary of the day she found out she had cancer on the heels of a molar pregnancy. Her walk through the experience has truly been inspiring.

Three astounding sentences produced a shower in my soul:

It’s been 5 years ago today that cancer entered my life, which took me on a new path of unexpected joy, peace, and grace. And today, I am thankful for that unexpected time in my life. That’s when I began planting a new garden that daily teaches me how to live a fertile life through my infertility.

What a powerful and rare statement. In it, God came to me like rain, just as the verse said. It was an encouragement to look for a path of joy, despite the confusion, conflict or worry around me. It was a challenge to embrace even the unseen path with the full understanding that our Creator and Savior is certain–as certain as the dawn. Rain brings about hope, refreshment, growth, and bloom. Even those of us with children have glaring areas of infertility in our lives. They are areas where we feel stifled and stagnant, or where the hope of beautiful blooms has been choked by weeds of despair, uncertainty, sorrow or confusion. Facing that overgrown ground, I must press on with God, even if it takes a little convincing and arm-twisting. There is hope. Those areas can be cultivated into abundant, fertile gardens for His glory. Only He can provide the nourishing rain necessary to sprout the blooms. And, He will.