Be Yourself

Could this be the answer?

How do I know when I'm being myself?

Here is a statement I've used more in the last three to six months than in several years:  "That's just not me!" Contemplating this statement, in most instances, I probably should have said, "I don't like this or that." What do preferences have to do with being me? I like vanilla ice cream. Is that being myself? It would be kinda silly to be offered a piece of chocolate cake and say, "No thank you, that's just not me!"

God knows the real me. Being Christ-like is my goal. Personality, character, temperament, gifts, talents, quirks, faults, and my sins--these are what make me, me. So, when am I most myself? I've concluded that it's when I'm asleep! Just kidding--I think!

I walked down my back brick steps this evening when this question took form. As I walked down the steps I looked on each side of the walkway and asked out loud, is this what "myself" looks like? I sure feel like this portion of walkway, with four steps. It's a mess. Jack and I have been doing some maintenance work on the deck so the "collection" of junk and non-junk from the deck and porch is along this section of the steps. Rolled up rugs, buckets, Longaberger umbrella basket. Empty and broken flower pots. Two garden-dish plantings made after Easter (they need watering--glad it's raining). Cardboard box with empty paint cans, rollers and soiled paper towels. Patio chairs full of pool toys. Patio table with a dirty cat blanket over it. Table umbrella leaning on the weeping cherry tree along the sidewalk. Weeds at least a foot high. Watermelon rinds, corn cobs, and broken egg shells thrown to the ground for the chickens to eat. It's a mess. It's ugly. Again, I wondered out loud, is this what "being myself" looks like? At the moment it sure felt like it. The infamous "they" say that your surroundings are indicative of the order of your life. Hello!!! My life has always felt disorganized. Organization is daunting to me. So another question is, "Am I disorganized because I may not like what I find within myself?" But is this even the answer to "being myself."

Are there two selves? The sin-woman who is so tired of the race and defaults to the giving-up mode because old patterns of self protection and self-perception. Or the Spirit-woman who escapes the flesh and finds lightness of soul, joy, hope; yearning for transformation to be a bit clearer, neater, and quicker.

I know the sweet words of friends and family. I also know the opposite words from family and others over the years.

I know the right answers. I know what Jesus says to me; about me. So, when am I myself?

When I'm by myself? Funny, it just might be when I'm asleep!!!

No one other than Jesus knows "myself". Not even me. So is it possible to know when I'm being myself?

A new question:  "Does it matter?" I want to say no, but the answer is yes. If we live and breath and have our being in Him, then being myself is a natural by-product of being in His Presence. I have a confession, it is a hard thing for me to quiet myself, to enter His presence when I feel like my brick sidewalk. Junked, over-grown, ugly, and disorganized. I'm tired. He knows. I'm struggling. He knows.  I'm failing at important things. He knows. I'm fighting the "should & shouldn't voices. He knows. I'm fighting fiery darts. He knows.

He knows I want authenticity. He also knows I want to want Him above all things. He knows I want to love Him more than anything or anyone. He knows. He knows. He knows. Most important, I want to be other-minded more than me-minded. And He knows where that balance is.

Is it that simple? I answer truthfully, no. Trusting Him over myself is the battle I fight constantly. And He knows this also.

Have I answered my question? How do I "be myself"?

Just be.

I have to say, it's easy being myself when I'm asleep, so I'm going to bed.

Friend - Follower of Christ

Joy abounds in little/many things:
scripture, light streaming through a window, colorful nail polish,
and friendship with a true Follow of Christ.

God-Stop Morning!

My friend, Betty, is a true Follower of Christ. We've been challenged and changed by Andy Stanley's series called CHRISTIAN ( http://www.northpoint.org/messages/christian ). Betty is living proof of Andy's teaching.

A small kindness. It shows her heart. It did wonderful things in my heart.

With this infirmity of mine, I'm sun sensitive. I have to slather myself with sunscreen, wear long sleeves and a hat, and hug the shade when I'm outside--even then, I can't be in the shade for more than an hour.

Betty's curious nature, "find the truth", and research for knowledge sent her on a quest for sun-block clothing. She called this morning giving me the results of her search.

It's not the task that she performed but her heart for me that proved her "christianity". I tear up thinking of God's love proven through Betty. And in God's economy, when love is given to another, love is gotten. So I know without a doubt that Betty is getting a double portion of what she gave to me today.

A person cannot outdo God's economy of investment. It's not keeping and saving love that increases it's value, it's in the giving it away. The returns are a thousand-fold; both for the giver and the receiver.

I have to say, joy is abounding today. I've experience so many blessings they can't be counted. One of those blessings is a true follower of Christ. And I have the awesome privilege of calling her friend.

Contended Discontentment

Light Hitting the Forest Canopy

Light travels approximately 186,282 miles per second. My mind cannot even wrap itself around that "fast". What I can wrap my mind around is the light itself. I love it. This is the view from my rocking chair. I'm an early riser and here is where I sit to connect with the Lord the majority of mornings. Weather permitting, I look forward to the first hits of light on the tree tops. It washes through the canopy and all different shades of green and brown appear. The contrast against blue sky enhances the effect.

In January, as I was reading my Bible, I was drawn to the word light, Light. I have been taking note of it ever since--both scripturally, and naturally. I especially was aware of light Easter morning and I blogged about it ( http://juanita-ihavetosay.blogspot.com/2012/04/light.html ). So what does light or The Light have to do with contended discontentment?

With my diagnosis of an autoimmune disease, and further classified to a connective tissue disorder, I am sensitive to light. With any large amount of time spent in the sun, I come away with sun poisoning. I'm not so crazy about the light in regards to this development! That's an understatement! I am an outdoor gal. My well-being has been tied to nature. What was my soul's nourishment has now become my body's enemy. It's as if I have lost my first love. I grieve. I ache.

How do I garden? Tend to my flower beds? What of family vacations at the beach? How do Jack and I sightsee on our trips west to California to see our daughter? Once there, how do we play with our grandson's? Southern California is meant to be experienced outside. What about visits to West Virginia to my childhood home which is a large farm. Outside is the norm! It's the living room of the farm! Cookouts? Hikes? Swimming? Watching little league games? Playing with grandchildren on the swing set? Oh, how I mourn.

Perhaps this is only temporary. I deny. But, perhaps!

A new normal. That sucks! Sorry! But it does!

And yet!

I watched the sun hit the canopy of trees this morning and I smiled. A gift. A gift to give thanks to The Light. My light-starved soul was nourished. I recognized my Friend, The Light. All the things that I will have to lay down due to sunlight, will be compensated and are compensated in Him, The Eternal Light. I will have to learn this lesson over and over and over and over and over again. I have so much of my desert-walking, wilderness wanderers' tendencies in my veins. I know myself. I will grumble. I have my own Egypts to flee. And I too am fickle and want to return to my bondage; glamorizing the slavery just because I face an obstacle now as well as an unknown future.

The Light surrounds it all:  the obstacle now and the future unknown. I pray I learn to trust The Light of the World. For now, I just need Him with me in my yards! I correct myself: I need Him with me as I stand at my doors gazing out at the yards.

Paradoxes are a part of life. My body needs light--vitamin D!!! My soul needs the big "D"--Deliverer. I have to say that my contented discontentment is a paradox that keeps me seeking The Light.

Light Creeps Through the Branches and Washes the Ground

"Come Paint"

My first painting in over 25 years.

"Even here,   
   after all the years,
         let's meet again,

   in this place."

That is the silliest thing, Lord. Come paint?!

This past week I spent money on very good watercolor brushes, good watercolor paper, but relatively inexpensive watercolor paints. Not sure of my logic in the paints, but they work...for now.

I also bought a watercolor book by someone who shows you how to watercolor. Pictures only show you the outcome of the author/artist. It does not show you how they hold their brush, how they load their brush with paint, apply it to the paper, strokes in creating what they want...all is well...it served my purpose. I got use to holding the brushes again, mixing water and paint, putting it to the paper, and regain the feel of the medium.

I worked for about an hour feeling rather shy, apprehensive, and afraid to commit to the next step. But when it came to the point where I needed to let the picture dry before continuing to the next and last step, I felt satisfied that I had something to show in spite of my apprehension.

You see, I loved to paint when I was a kid; late grade school and early high school. We did not have an art program in my high school so I was on my own. Probably a good thing because I may not have continued if I was in a place where I would compare myself to other's work. This I learned early: there are always others who can do it better. Even with that understanding, it baffles me how I became a perfectionist. Actually I do know. But it's neither here nor there at this point. (What does that saying mean?)

Several months ago, I had this whim cross my mind of wanting to watercolor again. I enjoy the fluid aspect of watercolors. Much of the time you have no control how the paints flow with each other or the direction they surge toward. (It's called wash-painting.) This appeals to me because I like the random, impromptu, and unexpected...when it's not a catastrophe, that is!

I dismissed the idea...until...I met with my friend and life coach, Mary. Out of the blue (I thought) she suggested I paint again. It so startled me. She had felt the insight prompted by the Lord. It was one of those God-stop moments. It warmed my heart. I loved His message as well as the way He delivered the message...through a friend that I love.

I put the message off for many weeks...until this week. And after I dabbled with the paints earlier this week, I had not gone back to the painting. In my silence with the Lord this morning, He did it again. Out of the blue, I felt these words, "Come paint!"

So about two hours ago I went back to my painting. I looked at my picture, at the book, organized my brushes, refilled my water jars and began. This time I wasn't as tentative. I added a few things that were not in the book! I signed my name as I had projects in college. (By the way, my major in college was Art Education! To this day I am amazed that I took a leap and let my heart lead when I changed my major from Home Economics to Art. Who uses or even knows what Home Economics is these days except for those of us in the Baby-Boomer generation? Wise choice to follow my heart!) I sat looking at my picture. It was a stark picture. Rather desolate. Much like my pictures when I was young. The feelings of a young girl craving significance came rushing over me. And then I felt these words, "Even now, let's meet again, after all the years, in this place."

It wasn't the place that I painted in the picture. It was the place where I sat painting. It was the place where God was. I did not recognize it as a kid. As a kid, I only knew it as a place of solitude, escape, enjoyment, creating, solace, yearning, my world. I did not know HE was there. I didn't know. He waited. Today He called me back to this place to become re-acquainted again with solitude, escape, enjoyment, creating, solace, yearning, His world.

I have to say that the picture doesn't matter, it's the "coming to the place" and Who is waiting there.

With and Without

NicNac and His Girls

Our favorite rooster died yesterday.

My husband and I loved this rooster, NicNac (son of RicRac)! He was a protector, food-finder, and king of the harem. Spiritual lessons were brought to life by the antics of this noble king of the poultry realm. His strut was majestic. His duties were taken seriously and justly. Now, the yard is out of kilter for the feathered friends. All are at loose ends this morning. The little bantam rooster is now king. Quite a contrast of leaders. He thinks he's as majestic as the former king, but his lack of stature in height, weight, and girth is very evident. He's trying! He's all the hens have at the moment. Was NicNac taken for granted by his kingdom? "Without" their grand king NicNac, will they settle for the little rooster, ChooChoo, who is striving to be their "with" today?

How many times have I substituted another wanna-be, small king for my Grand, Almighty King? The wanna-be who makes me think I'm getting all the "withs" I want, but in the end it all leads to "withouts". And my Grand King who knows the "withs" I need is taken for granted and the "withouts" are of my own making.

NicNac would lead his group to choice spots during the day. Choosing times for water, dusting, and resting from the climate elements. I watched him stand patiently while his harem nourished themselves around him. He'd peck at a morsel now and then, but his main duty was finding the food and then guarding his hens as they replenished their greater need than his of food, in order to produce their daily egg. NicNac's attentive duty over his "girls" was for "fruit" production. Sound familiar? NicNac's purpose for his harem was to bring all the "withs" they needed to sustain and produce life. Those times when hens were allowed to "set" on a collection of eggs, the result was a new hatching of chicks that bore the image of their Grand King. He produced life "with" his markings. His chicks were recognizable.

Thankfully, I don't have to worry about my Grand King never being near. I'll never be "without" Him. My questions through this incident is: "How aware am I of my King's constant Presence?" "Am I only grateful for His gifts and blessings, but not enough to love others, be the evidence of His markings, and be a humble display of Who's I am?"

I have to say humorously, I'm glad I don't have to lay an egg everyday! Soberly, I have to say that I should be producing fruit daily as a result of all the "withs" that My Grand King lavishes over me.

Parent Woundings

My Children on Their Wedding Days

Sitting at the lunch table, bantering about the day's activities, I was pained by a parent.

Doesn't matter how old I get, I still seek my mother and father's approval. Honestly, more my father than my mother. Why? For me, the answer is, my father is the one who has been less engaged in my life. I think another answer is a spiritual yearning planted in our spirits for our Heavenly Father. Our earthly fathers are our first contact and context in a deep yearning for a bigger-than-life protector, a need to feel wanted, a tangible feel of security, verbal soothing and encouragement, someone who first loves us. My father has fallen short on several of these aspects. I'm not saying that he is a bad dad; quite the contrary. He is a good father with failings. Are any of us perfect parents? Am I? Easy answer.

But this still does not relieve the wounding. It was not done purposely. But it was a showing of the truth of his heart. I have three siblings. I am the oldest. My brother is next, than two sisters. My brother, younger sister, and myself have felt and seen the preference in words and deeds toward our middle sister. It's not her fault for being the "golden child" and we have had to remind ourselves of that over the years! Is there a reason? I've asked myself that question many times. I have disappointed my parents with some of my choices. I have not met their expectations in some areas. My position of birth, as the oldest and being a daughter, has some bit of understanding. In my father's era, sons were a premium. They took over the farm/business. So when I was born, I was not the wanted son. It was also that way with each of my sisters. I was almost twenty when my youngest sister was born so I heard the disappointment in my father's voice when he called and said that "it" was a girl. I rejoiced! Even with the preference for a son, my middle sister became the "apple of the eye." I don't think I'll ever know why.

Putting this question to the Lord, forgiving my father's unintended, callous yet revealing remarks, I know that the deficiency that I feel is not valid. My Father's assurance of my worth is soothing. His love-design, earthly parent-placement, era-placement, geographical-placement were/are His purposed intentions for me. His beginning process of making something beautiful of my life--for His glory. I have a flawed earthly father, yet he is a Godly man. I have a perfect Heavenly Father, and I am a flawed earthly daughter. I too strive to be Godly. I am consoled that He loves perfectly, unconditionally, and impartially.

It's hard to "put out there" those parent/child deep feelings, questions, thoughts that many say should be kept to one's self. Those questions that do breed from parental feet of clay. "Not sure what to do with" feelings, hurts, observations are pushed to the darkest corners of our souls. Over the years they are mixed with the yeast of life, and when least expected we have a double or triple batch of bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness.

I made excuses, joked about, said they didn't matter. That's how I handled them on the outside. I didn't realize I was adding yeast to a new batch of grievances. I didn't want to feel or seem like a traitor to the family if I would mention the rising dough of offenses. Fear of saying out loud what I had pushed to the corners of my soul was another ingredient to the ever increasing batch of turmoil. I know I don't have to spell out all the questions because I'm not the only one in these parent/child dilemmas. Besides, some questions do not have answers; or more poignantly, answers that I will not like!

Over the last few months, Father, has been guiding me in our intimate relationship through the corners of my soul; He designed my corners for Himself--ONLY. Without Him, my soul's corners are dark. Ripe for brewing. I've pulled those questions out of the corners and have asked Him to guide me to the answers if it's good for my spiritual growth and walk. Or, give it to Him and let Him carry that burden and woundedness. Most of the time I am to extend grace, forgiveness, and then, let the Spirit bring Light and wellness to my yeast-free corners.

I have to say that this weekend's wounding is a lesson of keeping a dialogue open with my own children. Being an earthly parent is full of pitfalls, potholes, and prickly situations. I, too, have wounded my children. My lesson's homework is to make it easier for my three children to express my hurting of them. I want them to feel that I am approachable. Isn't that one of God's most wonderful attributes as a Heavenly Father--He yearns for our approach? His perfect love draws us. I want my children to feel His love through me--I yearn their approach.

UNDONE Gifts # 253 & #254

Watering the Gerber Daisies

Extraordinary experience and gift this morning! Such a reverent, Holy Spirit-presenced moment. The Triune God was smiling at the gift He gave. And I am (as one in the scriptures once said), UNDONE!

While watering my newly planted flowers along my front sidewalk, I heard the sound of fluttering wings. I know this sound. When you turn your head to the direction of the sound, the hum will disappear just as fast as the moment it takes to shift the neck and the focus of eye. My motion isn't quick enough to spy this delicate creature, but I still hear it's presence. I keep spraying and suddenly it comes near the flowers that I am watering. I stand motionless. It flutters around the flowers but does not drink the nectar. It zooms away. I proceed to another section of flowers; where the Gerber Daisies nestle near the Azalea bushes. (I am only four feet away from the bushes and two feet away from the flowers, and less than a foot from the protective fencing; which keeps my chickens out. I give this measurement because of the extraordinary encounter to come!) My little friend, the Ruby Throated Hummingbird, hovers beneath the rainfall of "gentle shower" setting of my garden house nozzle! I am spell-bound!

I hold my breath. He hovers and inspects a cluster of leaves on the Azalea bush that has a small puddle of water in it's yet unfurled center leaves. He lights on the outer broad petal and begins his bath. I continue to spray and watch in awe. He spreads his tiny thin wings and flips the water under them, over his head, through his colored breast feathers. He ducks his head and splatters water around his body. Spreads his minute tail feathers and he then gyrates his little body like a dog wringing out the water from it's fur. He flutters a bit under the spray and then it happens. He flies toward me and sits on the fence in front of me. I could have touched him. I'm sure my breath did! He sits unafraid near me and I watch him go through his "air-toweling".  He swipes his head under each wing. He flutters each wing to fling off the excess water. Another shaking to fluff his feathers. He sits. Head moving side to side, up and down. Looking at me. His iridescent feathers a testament to His Maker's gift of color, texture, and detail. The deep red of his throat is a striking contrast to the emerald green of his body. Tinges of black on his wings and tail feather--just as a period is at the end of a sentence.  No words are needed in front of this period. This extraordinary moment that I have witness speaks volumes.

The Small "Bird Bath" Leaf Cluster

The telling of this gift experience doesn't capture it. How do you capture moonbeams, sunlight, shadows? You see them and their other-world touches all around us. My 7:00 am watering of planted flowers, a morning chore, turned into a sanctuary. His glory, His majesty, His holiness touched all around me and I was in The Presence.

The little Hummingbird flew and came back at least three to four times. I think he was getting drinks of water. He'd fly under my spray and then dart to near-by trees. I could not hold the spray any longer. I closed my eyes and worshipped, spoke out a praise, and through a thick voice of emotion spoke my thanks and gratitude for this extraordinary moment filled with a multi-faceted gift. So many poignant spiritually packed thoughts are in this gift. I'll savor mine.

I write in my "One Thousand Gifts Journal":
 #253 "Most extraordinary gift--Hummingbird takes a bath in the spray of my water hose as I water my flowers--7:00am."
#254 "Hummingbird not afraid of me."

My scripture verse that touched me this morning before going out to do my watering chore:  "In the shadow of Your wings I will make my refuge..." Psalm 57:1

I have to say, Hummingbirds have now moved to my favorite bird category. God smiles, I'm sure they are all His favorite, but not as favorite as I am to Him. He is proving it to me over and over again. I am UNDONE.