Herbie Doesn't Like to Make Toys

I can't help but think of Christmas movies this cool Michigan summer morning. In one of my favorite scenes from Rudolph, Herbie the Elf labors without purpose in an assembly line for toys. "Herbie doesn't like to make toys" spreads down the elf gossip line in astonishing fashion. Boss Elf proclaims with passion, "Now listen here, you're an elf, and elves make toys! Now get to work."  Herbie solemnly begins his "misfit aria" with rejected slump in his walk.

Everyone has value and something of value to offer others. Herbie discovers this in his journey and his value is celebrated in dramatic fashion towards the end of the movie as he famously removes the teeth of a giant white beast. Herbie's once downtrodden gait is now replaced with steps of hope and purpose. Hope ignites confidence. Where others see a vicious monster, Herbie sees opportunity to use his unique gifts.

I love Herbie. He didn't stay in the world of "this is what you should do/be." He did not pretend to be something he wasn't. He refused to work silently day after day conforming to another's expectations. He boldly chose to step out into the unknown. He weathered the winter storm and made amazing friends in the process. He made a way for other "misfits" to find hope and purpose. Way to go, Herbie!

And then there's the part of the movie towards the end where I secretly wish Rudolph would go off on Santa. But that's another journal entry...

Running the Race

Hebrews 12:1

"...and we must be determined to run the race that is ahead of us."

I love to run. I love the feeling of my leg muscles stretching into a beautiful stride and steady rhythm.  I love feeling the cool breeze blowing in from Lake Michigan and I love hearing the sounds of white caps lapping against the lighthouse. So with arms pumping and lungs taking in glorious air I took off today with a little over 2,000 runners to "enjoy" a 5K. 

Today's race surprised me. Hundreds of people stood cheering along the route. Some clapped, some rang cow bells, but all stood cheering the weary tired bodies running past to victory. When I came to the first steep incline a spectator yelled, "You can DO this! It's just a hill! You are strong! You have the strength you need! Just focus on the top!" Groups of volunteers eagerly awaited our arrival with water ready so we could continue the run well hydrated. And near the end the cheering became louder. Music blared. I felt so uplifted in the energy given to finish strong.

But my most blessed of moments came when I heard the gentle coaching of a dad or mom with a beginning runner. The words of support and guidance touched my soul. 

"Don't forget to breathe, son."

"This hill looks steep, but remember what I taught you, you can do this."

"I'm right here if you need to stop."

The power of an encouraging word was not lost on me today. With feet pounding the pavement I gave thanks to God for the spiritual similarities to my physical journey. Did the clappers and the bell ringers have any idea of how they helped me to continue with head held high? Did those passing out
water have a clue as to how thankful I was for that cold cup of water at just the right time? Did those
lining the street know how my fears of going off course were conquered? And dear parent, did you know the depth of your symbolic gesture, running a race with your child?

I want to be that encouraging spectator in a large race. I wish to be a part of helping a runner get rid of anything slowing him or her down. Keeping our eyes on Jesus, pointing the way to Him, the Completer of our race. Standing in the gap, so no one runs off course. Never giving up! Just keep
going! The road seems long, the hill impassable. But we must not become discouraged or give up. He runs with us. He's our assurance of strength and purpose!

The finish line approaches, and thanks to a little time keeping chip in my shoe, I'm only aware of my
own personal start and finish. Yours will be different, but finish strong and encourage someone else
along the way! 

Don't Fence Me In (Thanks Roy Rogers)

Psalm 18:19

When I was fenced in, You freed and rescued me because You love me.

I never learned how to truly connect. Busy doing "the work of The Lord," yes. Making people feel good/better/encouraged after being with me? Yes. Not allowing negative emotions when in the presence of others? Yes. Obeying all authority? Yes. Sharing, giving, being kind with family? Yes. Sacrificing? Yes. Performing well? Yes. Yes. Yes. 

All of the above were a huge part of my relational patterns. Meeting all the expectations, traumatizing at times. Truly and authentically connecting with others? Well, never. When you are busy teaching the given lesson, singing the given song, wearing the given attire everything is so "surfacey." Throw into the mix being dragged into unhealthy toxic situation after unhealthy situation, no wonder I never connected.

But my heart desperately wanted to connect. So I tried. I tried in the only way I knew how, becoming or doing whatever I needed in order to attach myself to another's link. Sometimes I thought I could do this by becoming more spiritual. Sometimes I thought I could do this by making myself more attractive,smart, or available to others. I literally had zero boundaries on my time. 

But I couldn't connect, and I spent years trying. It makes me sad to think of all the hours, weeks, months I tried using every strategy I knew how. I was fun, popular, involved, and well rewarded from others tossing links my way - but no connection. Instead of belonging I found myself wrapped in the poisonous linking chains of fear, loneliness and panic. I cried out to God.

And He heard me. The earth shook. The mountains trembled. He came with a key. He unlocked the lock holding the destructive links in place and they fell to the ground. I heard a clicking sound. I looked up to see the source of the sound that I still remember and cherish to this day. It was Him, fastening my uniquely given link to the link of His heart. It was fastened firmly, safe and secure. I had a connecting relationship! One that can never be severed! In the sound of that one click I had a whole, complete, healthy connection! He reached down and lifted me up to satisfy my deepest craving. I now walk in a true relationship free from the traps of ropes, links, and suffocating fences. I am free to love (and connect) as I have been loved.

He Has Done a Beautiful Thing For Me

Matthew 26:10

"Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing for me."

No, my Gentle Shepherd, it is You who has done a beautiful thing for ME. Remember our chat upon  entering "that" city? Do you remember what they looked like - the cesspool of emotions awaiting my return?

You: Go ahead, talk to them.

Me: Really? 

You: Yes. It's OK. Go. Talk.

I can't believe I'm facing them. Feeling His gentle touch on my back, I start weeping. He's telling me it's OK. He's there. I look back into His eyes one more time and take a deep breath. I start talking to them. One by one by one.

"Hello, loneliness, I left you here and I've returned. I need to talk to You. You need to hear my voice. I didn't know how to handle you before. I didn't know how to deal with you. I didn't have words. I have them now. I no longer wish to be enslaved by your presence. I choose to no longer be controlled by your constant threatening cloud. I am safe and secure, NEVER alone. I choose to no longer hide behind your despairing walls, thinking myself a coward. I choose to walk confidently hand in hand with my Saviour. And now to you, loneliness, I say goodbye."

Me: How did I do? 

You: You did great. Keep going. There's more.

So I stood a little taller and faced them. 

"Hello fear, you've been waiting for me a while, even set up camp at the border of the city. "

"Hello nervous anxiety, hello worry, hello panic, hello anger, hello bitterness, hello indecisiveness, hello ill-at-ease, discomfort, heavy hearted one, depression, sadness, cheerlessness, joyless one. Hello moodiness, discouraging one, unhappiness."

"Hello hurt. You were a big one. You crept into a church and caught me by surprise. You broke my heart. I was crushed. I have agonized over what happened with you. I no longer wish to suffer at your hands. The Hands I now hold are caring, restful, healing Hands." 

I pause, breathe, and glance.

You: There are more.

Me: Um, nope. I don't think so, that just about covers it.

You: There are more. Keep looking.

He nudges me forward. I look. It's not clear. It's fuzzy. He hugs me. He holds me. The more securely He hangs on the more I notice my grip has loosened. I'm falling weakly to the ground. He's got me, and it's a good thing. My strength is gone. It's zapped by what I now clearly see around the corner. There they stand, hand in hand as best friends. My body may be weak, but I have not lost my voice. I am so closely held now that I feel the power and steady rhythm of His heart beating.

"Performance, performance, performance. You and your law could be so much fun at times, a blast. Anywhere I went with you brought festivity and animation. You enamored me with all the affirmation I received by following you. You talked me into a few roles I did not want, and you even
cast me for characters in plays that did not match the real, unique me. But I had to perform. The show must go on, right? We didn't want to disappoint anyone. And that's when you introduced me to your sidekick, conditional love. "

"Conditional love, I am so very, very glad that I get to say goodbye to you today. I am pleased to announce that you have officially been replaced. You NEVER satisfied the hole in my soul. You never inspired me. I was not content with you. I was quite uncomfortable. You never inquired about the real me. The real me never fascinated you. You were not concerned about me, you were concerned about my relationship with your BFF, performance. Well, we now have parted ways. Time for me to say the same to you, Goodbye."
I'm standing on my feet. I'm smiling. He's smiling, too!
Me: Thank You, Unconditional Love. You: Now, go in peace.
And today I offer the peace back to Him as an offering of praise!

Accessing the Calm

"Ask the Saviour to help you,

Comfort, strengthen and keep you;

He is willing to aid you,

He will carry you through!"

I picture myself in the boat, waves crashing, smacking the wood boards. Will we sink?  My heart is pounding. I hate storms. Dark clouds roll in, winds cause my hair to sting my face. I am so very scared. I do not want lightening to find me. Will I drown? I'm shaking. And then comes the ghost. Really? There is more to this terrifying nightmare? Why did I make the choice to be out in a boat today?

Others are now yelling at me out of their own fear.

"Didn't you check the weather forecast?"

"Shame on you, others followed your example! They only came because of you!"

"You should have known better than to wear..."

"This is your mess. Hope you've learned your lesson."

He whispers. I can feel His breath. He holds on with both arms and starts to stroke my hair. I realize that I have buried my face in His chest to block the sounds of the raging storm and voices. I feel His scratchy wet robe, but it is oh, so comforting. I think I hiccup a couple times amidst sobs. 

And then I remember the other passengers. I must get up and get the life jackets.

"Shshsh... Be still...I love them so much. For now leave them to me. You stay."

And then I remember the flares. I must get them. I'm the only one who knows where they are.

"Shshsh...Be still...You are safe. Trust. Rest. I am here. Others will see Me. They will see your trust and assurance. They will want the same peace. For now focus on the resting. Breath, relax, lean fully on Me." 

And the seas went calm.

Don't Feed the Dragons

Once upon a time there was a happy little prince who lived a cheery little life in his merry little castle. He was brave, bold, and fearless...

Except when it came to dragons.

"I know," said the prince, eager to venture outside the castle, "I will play with the dragons. They will be my friends."

The dragons were pleased. So they came back the next day, and even brought curious friends.

With all the fun and play, the dragons had worked up an appetite. The jolly prince was hesitant to leave his castle. He could not ignore the dragons forever, so the overwhelmed prince tried his best to keep them busy.

So he fed them,

And fed them,

And fed them.

Sadly, the enthusiastic dragons did not go away, they only grew bigger and stronger.

The prince felt safe from attack as long as the dragons were satisfied with his efforts to feed them. Yet in feeding the dragons, the prince missed out on other things he would rather be doing. The disappointed prince did not want to spend all of his time feeding dragons, but there were just to many to please.

Upset and sullen, the tired prince retreated to the security of his castle walls. No dragons begged for his attention there. No fun. No adventures. No voice.

But one day the dragons were no longer content to wait outside the castle.

Knowing that a dragon in a castle would not be a good idea, the prince spoke, "Now listen up dragons, let me be clear, there is no room, no room in here. No room for dragons of any kind. Don't try to come in. I've made up my mind."

"I live in this castle - I have a voice. No dragons may enter and that is my choice!"

At the sound of the prince's voice, the dragons began to shrink...
And shrink,
And shrink.

Wishing for more food and fun, the dragons intently replied, "We hear you, prince, you have been clear. We want to wait, so we'll stay here. We have grown smaller, and we are kind. There's room for us. Please change your mind."

But the prince did not change his mind. He felt good about the value of his voice. He felt good about standing up for himself.

As his voice grew louder, the dragons became smaller. And the smaller they became, the more the prince realized the power of his voice.

He no longer feared the dragons. He just stopped feeding them.

The End

Red Wine

I remember walking in the local grocery store wondering if all shoppers that day knew of my mission. I was going to buy my first bottle of wine. Little did I realize the variety of bottles that would be awaiting my decision. Did I dare ask someone for help? Embarrassing. Purchasing my very first bottle was not nearly as exciting as I had anticipated. I ended up grabbing something that had a familiar city and "sweet" in its name.

I remember thinking at checkout how cool it was that wine bottles have their own little paper bags, but how uncool it was that I needed my ID. Digging in my wallet meant more time standing at the register. More time at the register meant more opportunities for people to see my purchase. Never once did it occur to me that buying a bottle of vino was quite normal.

Amazingly enough I have survived days, weeks, months on very little sleep. Sleeping pills, warm milk, herbs have all made their way through my body. I've tried running myself to death, praying myself to sleep and counting sheep. I had never tried the wine experiment. Searching the cabinets I asked myself, "Coffee mug or dinner glass?"

My husband tells the story of finding me later, blissfully dreaming on the couch. Apparently my right arm was draped carelessly over the edge, coffee mug hanging on for dear life by nothing more than my pinky finger. I was absorbed in sleep, completely unaware of the courageous little dangling porcelain container.

Thanks to a godly counselor I now am sleeping much better, but I smile when I hear my husband tell of my desperate attempt to rest. When I hear him recall the memory of finding me that evening, I am transported into a place in time where I could not do anything, say anything, or be anything other than a confident, content sleeper. I rested well.

The confident, content "me" that rested securely on the couch that evening now rests in my Abba's love. I like the confident, content "me" who, amidst stares and whispering voices that my question my motives, feels empowered to make choices. Each choice I make reflects a unique "me" creatively designed and planned by God. That is enough to allow rest, to allow hope.

I choose to hope, knowing that nothing can separate me from His love. I choose to hope, resting in His unconditional love. I choose to hope, and that is a decision I can both live - and sleep with. Even now there is hope.

Snowflakes

I know longer pay any attention. I continue right on my merry way. Some are animated, some are unbelieving. I'm too exhilarated to care anymore. I'm too cheery and content to notice.

I'm speaking of the aghast faces I encounter upon revealing my love of a certain four letter word - SNOW. Not many here in Western Michigan use words like "serene" or "tranquil" in the same sentence as snow. Many are quite perplexed by my rapturous, gleeful response to Lake Effect Snow warnings. I'm not exactly jubilant either when it comes to shoveling out from under blankets of the white stuff.

But they float. Big, fluffy flakes of frozen moisture float down, sometimes rather briskly from heaven above. Oh, the elation I feel when it lands on my nose. Free and easy they fall, creating a winter wonderland for sledding with the kids.

And they keep floating. Each floating flake is a different, unique, design used by God to create some of the most beatific scenes, such as He does with all of His creation. The beauty reminds me to slow down, watch, and breathe.

A season is changing. I'm going to need blankets, hot chocolate, mittens and scarves, because the cold, virulent winds are certain to come. My cheeks will get rosy, my lips will get chapped. The bitter  cold winds will even try to turn my buoyant snowflakes against me.

Threatening winds will form tremulous snow banks. Menacing, restless winds will blow my diffident flakes in swirling fashion, eager to cloud the path I trod.

But my journey will continue. For when the snow melts, and my spirited snowflakes say goodbye, a
new season will usher in heroic sunshine, serene and sparkling waters, and new life. And just as green growth gallantly burst forth from a once dormant, oppressing season, my soul will sprout hope. The dreary days of a grey and gloomy winter are passed. I will lift up mine eyes and rejoice. Tears of joy will now water a once crushed, despairing heart, and nourish the fertile, living soul. My soul will then blossom of unwavering, restful hope.

The Start of Something Beautiful

My journal records the date as December 18th, 2009. I sat before an eager class of fourth graders waiting to be dismissed for lunch. I can't recall which was racing faster, my mind or my heart. It must have been my mind because my chest was tightening and at one point I remember begging my lungs to take in air. The students were staring awaiting instructions. I was numb, frozen in time, unable to communicate my need for an ambulance. Please, please, please, lips form the words, "Get help." Time is of the essence. So this is the day I die. It's actually happening. Dear God, please do not let me fall over in front of the kids. Just a minute more and they will be off to lunch. Just one more minute...

My heart did not stop beating that day. No one had to tell my husband that his wife had suffered a heart attack. The panic that gripped the very depths of my soul did not kill me. I did not succumb to the suffocating walls of anxiety. I sat. I waited. I cried. I pondered the possibility that somehow God had lost track of me. Then with faith the size of a grain of mustard seed, I called out to God with all the determination I could muster. I gathered every broken, disconsolate piece of my world and began a journey. A journey of security and assurance as written in Jeremiah 29:11.

                                 "For I know the plans I have for You, declares The Lord, plans to prosper
                                          you and not to harm you, plans to give you a HOPE and a future."

Tattoos

A tattoo is permanent. Yes, there are fake ones, tattoos that wash off or peel. But the real deal is embedded two layers deep into the epidermis. The thing about fake tattoos is that you can change your mind, vacillating between teams, opinions, and holiday applications. Eventually these tattoos wear off and we move on to the next craze or fashion.

My heart was a canvas for fake tattoos. With a little effort I could scrub its surface and firmly apply another teaching, theory, or idea. I made sure the "tattoo" was pretty, strategically designed for the approval of my present audience. At any given moment I could remove one and replace it with another. Off and on, off and on, the cycle continued. It was exhausting. I had to constantly be aware of my surroundings, checking the mirrors for the appropriate decal. All the tattoos were good, but not necessarily mine. I borrowed many. They didn't look right or feel right, but they got me where I thought I needed to go-sort of like a temporary license or gate pass.

There were times I felt I had too many tattoos. My heart looked like one big coloring book. Others got to choose the colors. Others got to decide how many layers to apply. My heart was heavy. I sat. I waited. I cried.

And then it happened. God reached down with a loving, tender hand and peeled off the first fake tattoo. It didn't belong on me. It wasn't mine to wear. My heart stung a little at first, but that first inauthentic representation of me was gone. Space was opened up and God spoke words of love, grace, healing, and hope-words now permanently written upon my heart where there was once a false cover. These God given words need not hide, nor ever go away for they are true, spoken by the God of truth. The Master Tattoo Artist began to reveal words etched upon my heart so many years ago. Because I could not see them, I forgot they were there. These permanent tattoos will never need a touch up or re-fill. Their designs will never go out of style. The Creator who placed them there has a plan for me to show forth His work upon my heart. And sometimes, when I'm very still before Him, I can feel another stencil preparing my heart for the beautiful penmanship. He gets to choose the word.

The King and I

The King showed forth his land one day,

Unto his heir, the prince.

"All that I have is yours my son,

The verdant fields, the fragrant scents."

"Feel free to swim the sparkling waters,

Free and easy roam.

And be secure, not wavering

Like wind tossed seas with foam."

The prince looked up quite skeptical,

Suspicious, "Is this true?

What if I cross an angry dragon,

Then what will I do?"

"Tis best I stay inside the castle,

Cowardly, in fear.

I'm just too frightened to roam freely

Knowing there's a dragon near."

The King that day was worried,

Grieved to see his anxious heir.

He longed to trade his open fields

For prisons of despair.

"Come now my son, and walk with me.

Hold tightly to my hand.

I'll give the strength you need today,

Against your dragon stand."

Alarmed but aching for a change,

Determined to live free,

The prince proclaimed in hardy voice,

"My Father walks with me!"

Somewhere Over the Rainbow and Down the Yellow Brick Road

As a young girl I remember holding hands with Dorothy in the mountains of Boone, NC, effortlessly skipping with countless other kids my age. A theme park beautifully recreated the "Wizard of Oz" experience, and thus began my life-long love of the movie. Countless times growing up I would braid my hair, link arms with a friend and chant , "Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! " Fun!

December 12, 2012 I turned 40 - not over the hill, just "over the rainbow."  I give thanks for every Scarecrow I've met on my yellow brick road, teaching me the power of thinking differently, questioning the process,  and pulling myself back together after a falling apart moment.

I give thanks for every Tin Man walking alongside me in the way. God uses the bandages of your diversity to help heal MY broken heart, giving me strength to continue with love enough for others.

And dear Cowardly Lion, who I now rename "Fearless One," your friendship - your holding my hand - nourishes my soul for the journey ahead. I think of you most. You know what it's like to fear.

The theme park in Boone no longer exists. Many remnants of yellow bricks cling steadfastly to the mountain terrain, but gone are the flying monkeys, balloon rides, and Dorothy's house. Gone is the cornfield where "Dorothy" introduced me to the Scarecrow. Torn apart is the shed where the Tin Man joined our adventure. And somewhere amongst the trees a marker no longer indicates the spot where a lion joins the ranks of true life changing friendships. Friendships motivated by love, not self-gain. Friendships fighting for the well-being of all, against all odds. Friendships much like the ones needed and found by a once 7 year old little girl who turned 40 this December.  A little girl harboring the power within her all along, but needing the journey and friendships to see and to believe the power exists.

Thank you, yellow brick road!