The Friendship Thing

 ^"And all these blessings shall come upon you and overtake you if you heed the voice of the Lord your God."   ... Deuteronomy 28:2

***

So! The subject of friendship came up in yesterday's comment box, spurring ol' Debra to share her many and varied thoughts.

Before age 35, I collected friends like some ladies collect state spoons. I wrote letters by the hundreds to folks I'd left behind in Nevada and California and--as for my new friends here in New York--when they had out-of-town company, I'd become bummed-out because that meant zero chance of going out for coffee until their (annoying) visitors returned home. 

(Yikes! I know.)

The days the mailbox didn't hold letters for me were sad days. The fact that I could never seem to form a Lucy and Ethel type of friendship bugged me. Majorly. Probably? Probably God foiled some friendships, told some folks not to write or visit, because He wanted me to wake-up and see I needed more of Him.

"Hi. My name is Debra." (Hi Debra.) "I was a friendship addict." :)

And oh dear. For two decades I saw the addiction, felt it, but didn't want to admit it. Didn't know how to kick it.

Then came 1994 and wow! During the world-wide Christian renewal years, Jesus gave me (and a few million other people) such an enormous love for Him. And over time, the chains of Friendship Addiction fell off, I felt free (indeed!) and just having Jesus for a friend felt like enough. More than, actually.

And for awhile--a season--Jesus kept me to Himself. 

I spent oodles of hours hanging-out with Him in my room or on walks, sometimes reading the Bible, sometimes watching/listening to great teaching. He had a ton of things to rebuild inside me, 'Christian structures' which I'd built dreadfully wrong by myself. Some time was involved, some pain and humility, also, but I didn't mind. Finally I'd formed a friendship with Jesus, something I'd assumed was impossible for me.

And after that alone-with-Jesus season? Not only did I come away with the best new, most-satisfying friendship ever, but my Real people friends had waited for me and the Unreal ones had impatiently walked away. 

And suddenly everything, everyone, felt like enough. I had enough friends, they had enough time for me. Why? Because Jesus was now everything to me and when you have everything? All else feels like leftovers, all else feels like extra blessings.  

And what I found is that blessings are nice, but not vital. I'm not to seek them, but rather, I'm to seek after knowing God better. To becoming closer.

But the wild thing? That's when blessings start dropping like rain--after we place God in the number 1 spot. He so enjoys releasing presents into the lives of His kids, the ones who will keep them in perspective. The ones who will keep Jesus first no matter how many blessings (or friends) He hands down to them simply out of love.

God is the God of more than enough. More than enough friends, even. I've found that to be very true.


*****

"Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need."   ... Matthew 6:33

"A friend loves at all times..."   ...Proverbs 17:17



*********

Allowing Birds Their Freedom

Aww... all you other mama's out there who told me perhaps Naomi will get to Tennessee, decide she doesn't like it, then come running back home, well, thank-you. I realize you were trying to encourage me, to give me hope.

But you know? I cannot allow myself to even think such a thing. Why? Because that would be like hoping Naomi will fail, that things won't work out for her, that she won't be happy anywhere not near her parents.

And well, according to 1 Corinthians 13, I'd be oh-so-in-error to do that, especially when you consider these verses:

"Love endures long and is kind.... Love does not insist on its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not fretful ... .Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fadeless under all circumstances, and it endures everything [without weakening]." (taken in parts from the Amplified version).

Basically? Love wishes other people the very best in their endeavors. And as I heard one man preach years ago, real love prays that other people will do even better than we, ourselves, have done.

So I must go the way of love with this... and let Naomi fly away while wishing her success.

There's another reason I'll never try talking Naomi out of her decision: after Tom, Naomi and I had lived in New York for 5 years, my parents called one Thanksgiving and the conversation turned disastrous when they confessed they'd often told their friends, "We don't understand what we ever did to make Debra and her family move three-thousand miles away from us. Were we really such dreadful parents?"

Oh. My. Goodness. 

To my parents, our move was all about them. When actually? Tom and I loved living in New York, had been looked at by fellow church members as "missionaries from Nevada" (their term) and had both experienced an amazing spiritual awakening which continues to shape who we are all these 17 years later.

It took me a long time to recover from that Thanksgiving conversation (I'll spare you the further gory details) and I refuse to ever lay something like that upon my own daughter. 

Tom and I were led by God to New York (the most obvious thing I've ever known) and woe unto me if I try talking Naomi out of leaving for Tennessee. Double woe to me if I try holding her here out of my own self-seeking to get what I want.

God did not design Naomi's life to be about Tom and me, but rather, He meant for us to raise Naomi while she was young so that she could grow into an adult woman with a life of her very own.

And may I never, ever discourage her from living in that kind of God-given freedom.






**********



Again, I realize those of you who said here and in emails "maybe she'll come back" were trying to encourage me. And also again, I so appreciate that! Your hearts were kind and right. I just tried to explain here why I cannot hope for the same thing.




***********



Fun Stuff:

This week Tom and I discovered from a heater guy (we're buying a new heater and water heater) that Hobbit Cottage may have been a kit house back there in 1931. Oh! I've always wanted to live in one. The heater guy, at one time, lived in a house exactly like ours and his was a kit house, and well, there are a few of them near us so who knows?

Anyway, I discovered this website today which is about the most fun site, ever, for people who enjoy houses and floor plans. It's full of vintage kit house catalogs, complete with floor plans which I've, my whole life, enjoyed perusing. So if you're like minded, just go here and start clicking. Maybe you'll even discover your own home came from a kit(!)



**********************

Music Here, Music There

Well, I forgot to tell you that Naomi is all obsessed and wild about moving to Nashville in March. 

Her newly-married friend from Toronto moved there and loves it to pieces and when Naomi went to visit the happy couple, she found her own personal Promised Land. Naomi is all about music and so is Nashville (as everybody knows) so it should be a good fit. Already her boss says he can easily get her transferred to the branch down there. Easily.

Of course, as her parents, Tom and I are nervous. Naomi has always either lived with us or within a few miles so this will be a huge change, a gigantic test of all the trust we've ever put into God for our daughter. But we wouldn't dream of trying to change her mind. Tom and I used our God-given freedom to live where we wished and we would never take that freedom from Naomi.

And all will be well. That's what I've told myself so that I can proceed with my life these following months. But now? Now I'm not concentrating on Naomi's impending move because Grace isn't here yet--it's too early-- to ease me into the idea. Oh Grace! She's like that "spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down." Without her, I'd be sunk. Without her, everything is hard. A big struggle with a lot of dread thrown in.

Tom says maybe he and I can move to Tennessee after Naomi's lived there awhile. Me? I just say, "We'll see." After all, only yesterday we were talking about Idaho and he said, "Idaho. Doesn't it sound great to move to Idaho?"

I said yes, rolled my eyes and said, "All I know is that today we are right where we're supposed to be and that's all I want to think about."

Probably two-hundred times since we moved to New York in 1993 Tom has talked about moving out-of-state and for years I used to let the "up-in-the-air-ness of it all" upset me. But no more. 

After what we went through to find this house, I watched God so clearly slam any doors He didn't want us walking through. So when it comes to moving out of New York? It will only happen when God desires and where He desires, as well, even if Tom does talk about moving another 200 times in between now and our actual departure. We couldn't even get out of here unless God wanted it.

I finally know that now.

That's what happens when you totally give your life over to Him and beg Him to not let you get what you want--if it's not what He wants.

So why get upset over a few hundred mentions of moving away? I'm learning. Slowly, ok, but still, I'm learning.




*****

Oh! Debra's Upstairs World just got sweeter today. How? I discovered a local AM radio station that plays music solely from the 1940's, 50's and 60's. Wow. It's more fun than ever up here now.

Oh, and for those of you who wish your supermarket played the same kind of music as mine? If you own an Ipod (or other similar device) why not load it with music from the 40's, 50's and 60's and take it with you when you shop? Then you can have experiences similar to mine. 

That brilliant idea came to me (finally) just this morning. heh.


******

Accepting, Pausing, Loving

So on Thanksgiving Day in our area, at least three radio stations begin playing Christmas carols 24/7 till around December 27th. I used to complain about that, but now? I love it. I even created a yearly tradition of cooking my Thanksgiving dinner while listening to radio Christmas songs in my kitchen.


What changed? My attitude. 

I used to become flustered because people didn't adhere to my personal time schedule ("they" shouldn't play Christmas songs anywhere until after Thanksgiving!), but then I figured how foolish! Why complain and get all cranky because everyone else doesn't adhere to my ideas?


In fact, I remember cranky people while I grew-up who always complained when other people made different choices than they would have. Sadly, I watched these complaining people repel others away, they became riddled with arthritis and never learned to just enjoy and deeply love people, warts and all. They believed there was only one way to live (their way, which they equated with God's) and became bitter because they could not make the whole world behave.


Well, for some years I headed down that (scary) road, also, but one day I realized, hey! Making my own self behave is one full-time job, indeed. Who has leftover time to boss others around? Besides, God's endless creativity made us all too different and gave us way more freedom than that.


So as I noted here last year, this has become my Verse Of The Month every December when I'm tempted to complain about how others are 'doing Christmas':



"When Peter saw him, he asked, “Lord, what about him?”
Jesus answered, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me.”' ... from John 21
 

What does it matter to me that stores play Christmas music in October? I need to mind my own business and just follow Jesus. What if tons of people spend lots of money for Christmas or totally plaster their house and yard with enough Christmas lights to be viewed from outer space? Why complain about that? I must just follow Jesus.

There are myriad more examples, but you get the idea, right?
 
Let's just each do Christmas our way and let the world do it, theirs. And then let's all know peace.

Ah, blessed peace.
 
 
 
****


"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands..."   ...  I Thessalonians 4:11


****


"I'm not gonna let commercialism ruin my Christmas!"  ... Charlie Brown


******

Alone? Never.

So I'm skipping around from essay to essay in A Matter of Choice, choosing by title the pieces which sound interesting. And chewing each one, slowly.


But I felt sad for one of the authors this morning when she wrote this about arriving in Mexico for a vacation (of sorts), alone:



"I realized that I had never, in my forty-seven years, had dinner alone in a restaurant...  When I think about going out, an advance video runs through my head: I am sitting at a table trying to look content. The restaurant is filled with smiling, chatting people. I am the only one alone. They are staring, pitying me, wondering where I'm from and why I have no companion."




Good gracious! That's how I always felt, but way back in college at 18 while I sat in the cafeteria alone. The ol' square peg being forced into round holes thing, that was me and a major reason I spent only one year there. I actually preferred eating alone while reading a book--it was the supposed stares of pity from others I minded, though now I realize teenagers are so self-absorbed that probably no one even noticed me enough to pity me. Alas.


But long before I turned 47, I'd grown past those silly fears and often I'd go out for coffee alone or to movies, these times actually pitying other people because they couldn't see Jesus sitting right there beside me. 


No, seriously. I'd always place my purse on one chair (or upon the floor) and leave one empty chair for Him and we'd have these secret rendezvous', well, that's how I like to remember them.


 My 40's felt downright enchanted because I'd been 'practicing the presence of God' (have you read that amazing book?) since age 35 when some pretty special things happened (long story). And how marvelous to become more aware of what Jesus is saying about you than any perceived criticisms by strangers.


Well, my 50's didn't start out exactly in the enchanting realm, but they're traveling closer now. I've returned to my Real Life, the one pre-designed by God (who knows best) and once again He and I are hanging-out at local coffee shops and movie theaters and having a grand ol' time.


And today? Today I'm hoping you can easily sit in a restaurant or a theater, coffee shop or church  and feel whole, even alone. 

That you don't need another person or certain clothes, houses or cars before you feel loved, accepted and just fine. And that wherever you find yourself, you can turn your face and glimpse Jesus, Himself, pressed against your shoulder and hear Him whisper, "Today and always, you are so very, very loved."








*****




A special thanks to Kim for posting this quote at Facebook (it also helped inspire this post):




"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." -- Roald Dahl




The photo, above, was taken outside of the window above our kitchen sink.




******

Out Of The Box

Reposted from 2005--



Naomi has moved more than half her possessions into her new apartment and last night was her first night there.

I'm so excited for her. I remember the months I lived alone at age 19 in my own little two-story house. I paid just $120 rent per month and even back in 1978 that was a terrific deal. I felt gratitude for God's watchful eye upon me and I was ecstatic to finally be on my own.

To succeed or fail on my own.
To stay up as late as I pleased, even into the wee hours of the morning if that is what I chose.
To bring home paper bags of groceries and place them in my own (old) refrigerator and yellow cupboards.
To decorate my little house however I wanted (albeit with tons of imagination and almost no money).

I had four months in that cozy house in a tiny mountain town, and then Tom and I got married and continued living there. Oh my, there were fights and fireworks as we struggled to live peacefully together, but there was fun, too. We often felt like the kids we actually were, just playing house. Beginning a new adventure together.

This morning? I'm feeling the same way. Giddy. And Tom and I are alone again playing house, yet with many pluses we lacked all those years ago.

We now have a history. We've learned to live peacefully together (well, most days).
We're reaping good things from our 26 years of Life Lessons learned.
We have cool stuff. We don't need to save-up for more furniture and things.
I get to make my own Dream Room upstairs out of one of Naomi's former rooms.
I get my kitchen all to myself.

And --

I feel blessed that Naomi lived with us for a quarter century, especially since she was/is our only child.

What is my point? (I usually always have one.)

My point is that life with God is amazing. With Him, I don't have to feel a certain way when certain things happen. With Him, I can be happy for my little-girl-all-grown-up and I can be excited for the fresh beginning for Tom and myself.

God does all things well and makes all things new. I don't have to feel this is the end of everything.

I never have to feel how everyone expects me to feel. And neither do you.

******


"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning." ... Louis L'Amour

Winter Thoughts

Honestly, I don't appreciate being watched. 

I'd hoped to have more privacy out here in the country, but alas, I don't. This example pretty much sums it up: 

Just fifteen minutes after a large tractor-like-thing with a post hole digger was delivered to start building our new garage last October, our neighbor from across the street came over. He told me (Tom wasn't home) that he and _____ saw the post hole digger and they hoped we weren't putting in a fence for animals. 

Because I knew exactly where he was going with this I told him (a tad testily), "No, we're not. We're just building a garage."

He went on (and on) to explain what I already knew--the previous owners had raised sheep and many neighbors had complained, they'd had to sell some sheep, cart others to their new home. Yada, yada, yada. I told him we are in contact with the previous owners and we know all about the sheep fiasco. He said he knew it wasn't any of his business (oh, to reply to that!), but he and ____ just didn't want us to put in a fence , buy animals, then have to undo the whole thing. They didn't want us to lose all that money.

Oh. My. Goodness! When he left, I was inwardly fuming. The post hole digger had only been beside our barn for 15 minutes! 

Suddenly it was like the whole neighborhood stands at their windows 24/7 eyeing us. I felt like, "Please! Can't Tom and I be allowed our God-given freedom to make our own mistakes? Can't we be given some credit now that he's 51 and I'm 49? Can't we live here without feeling like our quasi parents live across the street?

I know, I know. Pride. But still--can't we finally have some freedom?

Some of you understand exactly what I mean. Others will put a positive spin on our neighbor's words--but I'm not feelin' it. Sorry. 

So, like winter quotes often say--at least now in January we have privacy. Well, here inside our house where most of our Winter Life takes place. Outside where I shovel snow and feed the birds there's less privacy because of all those naked trees out there. 

But in here inside? In here there's a whole other world, a cozy, private winter world, and I'm thankful for it.


*****


"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands..." 1 Thessalonians 4:11


******

Okay. Regarding my, Why I Don't Like Parties post. After reading some of your comments I guess I should add this:

I love gatherings of 1 to 4 people. Love them.

Tiny gatherings like those, to me, do not remotely resemble church parties where the crowds are large and the noise is deafening. Oh, and I forgot to mention that part--it's only within crowds that I notice the hearing loss in my right ear. It's all that background noise which muffles what people are saying/nearly shouting and by the party's end, I'm usually exhausted from my tandem attempts of straining to hear and staring at people's mouths while trying to read their lips.

But tiny, intimate gatherings in homes? Why, those are amazing. Worthwhile things get spoken there, deep subjects are touched upon and that special warmth of camaraderie nearly always appears, as well.

I mean, after all. If I avoided huge, crowded parties and tiny gatherings, well, wouldn't that make me a downright hermit? But I abandoned that 'Life dream' eons ago. heh. I told you about that here, don't you remember?  ツ


****


Romans 12:13
"Contribute to the needs of God's people [sharing in the necessities of the saints]; pursue the practice of hospitality." Amplified


****

Why I Don't Like Parties

So this morning I began reading a 1960 teen romance called The Look of Love, by Denise Cass Brookman, a specially-requested book on my Christmas list, one Tom gave me. And as I read the following two paragraphs I thought, aha! This is why I don't like parties:

"What it amounted to was that you just couldn't afford to be either stupid or smart. And study-smart or easy-smart was being too smart for your own good.

Candy didn't know what her own particular good was. She knew that it was supposed to be what everyone else's was--being middle. Feeling it, acting it, talking it. Feeling only a middle feeling, nothing at either end, no great enthusiasms, no great depressions. You acted middle, foolishly sometimes, but never radically. You talked middle, too, which was the same as being silent because you never said anything really--just things like Don't get carried away, and Don't stick your neck out, and Don't do any more than you have to do, and Don't try for two when you've already got one..."


Debra here again: 

Yep, it's that grey and boring middle conversation ground at parties which I dread. People reaching only for the least common denominator chat amongst the crowd--how the washing machine broke down or the neighbors fought again or the new spaghetti place that opened down the street. Grey stuff. And I'm talking about church parties since that's the main type I've attended the last, oh, 30 years. You know, potlucks, ice cream socials, birthday parties and such.

For forever I've preferred high roads and stretching my mind and dreamy topics or deeper, serious ones. Not conversations with uncomfortable conflict, either, but ones which take you someplace and drop you off there, changed. Talks which open your eyes to a person's heart or teach you something great which you didn't know before you entered the room.

I'm certainly not trying to make anyone feel this this way--I'm only explaining how I feel. 

You may not understand much of this or agree with any of it. In fact, two weeks ago I tried to explaining this to a good friend over lunch and she just did not get it. She adores church parties, always has, always will and the subject just fizzled away.

But I'm sure some of you have felt as I do and well, I just want you to know that if you, too, are a Dreader of Parties, you are not alone.

And too, it occured to me that I'm more grateful than ever to have this blog where I can jot down my beliefs and feelings--things which for eons (it seemed) I wasn't free to share with anyone other than Tom. Blogland has proven a great place to reach out with my not-suitable-for-parties chatter, if only tentatively, to others who understand and need me to understand them, as well.




******

So at our former church many of the women will be taking a missions trip to, hmmm, Argentina? (Can't recall where for certain, but that's not the main point anyway.) 

Nearly all the women are helping with year-long fundraisers, you know, bake sales, yard sales, talent shows and other money-raising ideas as well. And I think that's great. I'm happy for those who will get to travel and share. (Remember I said that, ok?)

But as I told Tom when I discovered this information, I'm so thankful we no longer attend there. Why? Because I cringe to think of all the 'little talks' about non-cooperation I might get since-- not only do I not wish to go to Argentina-- I'd not be in on the fundraisers, either.

Years past, I had a few of those little talks.

On these present days of my life I'm not feeling any call to any foreign country, nor am I sensing a calling to man bake sales for those who are (though I would happily make a donation of money. Happily!) 

I've had fundraising seasons in my past and this is not one of them.

No, right now I'm out here on this little 'farmette' helping my husband winterize and get settled. We have rough winters in our area and if you don't prepare, well, you suffer. And I've spent months preparing for my mother's visit at this place where she will spend the one-year anniversary of my dad's passing. And I'm enjoying living-out this 35-year-old dream from God's hand and working harder than ever, trying to create a restful place for the weary. Not to mention cooking, cleaning, writing in this blog and taking care of Life's many (many!) other details.

You must know what you are called to do. And not called to do.

Otherwise you die without having completed God's plan for your specific life--and therein lies the tragedy.

But be warned--many people get nervous, jealous and upset with those who are certain of their purpose and callings. Why? Because we certain folks are usually pretty peaceful. We're not being yanked in different directions, not feeling guilty because of the activities we're missing. The certain folks make progress, even slowly, but always consistently. 

They move forward, not back.

And so much more, but this post became too long and Tom needs his breakfast. 

But I'll just leave you with this. When God calls you to do something different than the crowd? Don't apologize and hang your head with guilt or doubts. No, just keep listening to the One who will meet you at the end of your journey at the right place, the right time, because you matched your steps to His.



******

I think God gave me a marvelous idea, or rather, He reminded me about Kelly's marvelous idea from years ago. I mean, I was thinking about our farmhouse (what else?) and wanting to, somehow, make it a get-away retreat for burned-out Christians. You know, for those who are preached at every Sunday and told that unless they strain and work themselves into early graves while telling the whole wide world about Jesus, they are big, fat spiritual losers and gigantic disappointments to God.

(You think I'm exaggerating about such sermons?)

It's for those dear, misguided souls, especially, that I'd love to provide a serene, tranquil experience upon green farm-like acres, gifting them some hours out there to sit beside Jesus and discover how and who He really is... the passionate lover of their souls.

Already I can picture a chair placed here, there, far out in our green fields, providing places of rest and renewal. Places within circles of flowers and silence... places where people can just be. Be content. Be at peace. Be with Him.

And it was that mind picture which reminded me of Kelly's original post from long ago--here. When I first read it, I came away changed... and I am thinking perhaps you will, too.

***

My all-time favorite 'Kelly post'? You'll find it here.

***

... He leadeth me beside the still waters... He restoreth my soul... from Psalm 23.

So Tom is away on a short, rare business trip and I'm here at home with unaccustomed weekday use of our car and Tom's company's laptop computer, even.

It's always quite nice at first, this being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want. 

You know, getting out of bed in the mornings only when I choose, no nagging alarm blaring. Leaving as I wish, either in the car or walking until my stamina, not my schedule, calls me back . Choosing to eat homemade blueberry ice cream solely for lunch or having spaghetti delivered for dinner (or skipping it altogether and ignoring the dishes in the sink). Reading library books all afternoon then falling asleep at night in Tom's recliner with the t.v. remote (mine! all mine!) in my hot , tiny hand.

But that kind of living--for me, anyway--always becomes old, fast. Getting whatever we want, living for one's self? For most of us, it eventually loses flavor sooner than we fantasized. Our way. There's a deceptiveness about always getting one's way--it never leads quite to the Wonderland you imagined.

I prefer to wait for God to give me things. 

His gifts never make me sick of stuff or to my stomach. His presents are sweet and always come on time--His. He knows my desires and how many of them I can handle at once (and won't tire of 2 weeks from now).

Well, you know.

So I'll rest a little, then give something to others. Relax a bit, then work. I'll respect that ebb and flow, keep sowing good seeds and end each day with a happy tiredness and hands wide open for those special gifts from Heaven. The best ones, the ones which flutter down, always on the perfect day.

***

An overdose of peace and quiet might just lead to a loneliness with loud echoes.


***

It was only around 25 degrees F. this morning while I took my walk, but the sun was glowing and well, that makes it all better.

During the winter I take walks in my long black wool coat and my black (or olive) knitted gloves and my tweadish knitted cap and carry my faded maroon umbrella (strapped closed), too. Oh, not for the rain or snow, but to keep the occasional loose dog away with the nice, long wooden tip with its metal piece.

I thought about how I must appear walking around like that and this quote which Patty shared came to me:

"One of the greatest assets any person can secure is a reputation for eccentricity. If you have a reputation of this kind you can do a lot of things … Many an act which, if performed by an ordinary person, would arouse indignation, animosity and antagonism can be performed by a person with a reputation for eccentricity with no other result that that of exciting mirth … "
E.W. Scripps

Love that! 

My favorite movies and documentaries? Those with eccentric people in their story. Always, I sit there and wish I could be more eccentric, well, not insane-eccentric-crazy, but more like free-eccentric. Unafraid to be who I really am, even if that means appearing loopy, unusual to others. And brave enough to do the good things inside my heart, things which shyness and thoughts of 'people-just-don't-do-that' stop me from doing.

But not so eccentric as to make people back away slowly and escape. Rather, unique enough to draw them in. Curious, wanting to hear and watch more.

So while I took my walk today all bundled-up and with my umbrella on a perfectly clear morning and happy in the cold, I thought perhaps I'm getting a good start on this eccentricity thing. And, if so, wouldn't that be lovely? Who knows where that kind of freedom could lead?


***


Have you ever done anything which, looking back, may have been viewed by others as being rather eccentric?

I called my mom today.

You know how some people, when they lose their spouse, will hide away in their house, turn down offers of help and just cry alone for weeks? (Like maybe something I would do?)

Well, my mom has so not been like that. Not at all. People from her church drop by to offer her rides for errands and she accepts. They ask her to their homes for dinner and she goes, gladly, and when they call she answers her phone and chats.

Now, if anyone has a right to be devastated, it's my mom. She was married at 16 and she and my dad were always together. My dad usually had a church office to drive to, but if my mom ever needed anything, he was mostly available. Last week we tried numbering the times they were apart (not counting the hospital times when we kids were born) and I think we came up with just two times. In 52 years! 

Also, my mom never got her driver's licence, she's on the quiet side and always relied on my dad.

And now, guess what? (I forgot to tell you about this.) This weekend, my mom is going to Hawaii on a honeymoon. No, not hers, Silly. My sister's! See, my sister and her husband were married last March and they'd planned this November honeymoon months ago. And well, while we all sat around the table there in California, they asked my mom if she'd go with them.

I was so glad when they asked, and even gladder when my mom accepted. I much prefer imagining her in beautiful, sunny Hawaii next week rather than in her seaside nearly-always-grey town without my sister nearby for those days. But they're all going together and even my new brother-in-law thought it a great idea (after a couple initial minutes). He said, "It hit me that now Corrine would have someone to go to the shows with. Someone who isn't me. Hooray!"

Yes, I called my mom today and she sounded great. Busy, anticipating good things and grateful for the way others are looking out for her.

God is good.



******

When God Asks That We Pause

Sometimes, like now, I cannot be alone enough. The day doesn't hold enough hours for me to get my fill of being by myself.

I know, that sounds, well, odd. But it's what I was thinking just now while sitting at our dining room table, reading, pausing at times to gaze out the windows to stormy skies.

I hope you don't think it's a bad thing, this craving whole days of aloneness. Actually, I've learned to recognize it as a healing time, a preparation time, a strengthening time. My days and months ahead will hold enormous changes, so God is preparing me and giving me an overflow of aloneness to draw from for the upcoming days when my pace will quicken and I'll be far away in unfamiliar places. And most likely, praying for some minutes alone.

I can fight these times, or I can hold them close. I can whine, "What will everybody else think?" or I can just enjoy the solitude, the silence and His breath at my ear.

Going where He is leading, well, always it's my choice. And when it's His will, there is always a way.



******

Sitting Alone--And Loving It

During my one-and-only-thank-goodness year of college, I dreaded sitting at tables alone in the busy cafeteria. 

Oh, sitting by myself felt fine to me, welcomed, even, but what I hated? Believing fellow students were staring and pitying me for my aloneness. 

Ack.

Always I carried a book with me both because I adored reading while eating and so I could avoid any sad glances at Lonely Little Loser Girl (as if anyone even noticed mousy me anyway).

I am beyond-words grateful that those days are gone! Now? I travel myriad places by myself and think nothing of appearing alone.  Because I'm so not. 

In fact, two weekends ago I traveled half-awake one morning to Tim Horton's and my table felt crowded. There was me, my decaf cafe mocha and bagel, my Bailey White library book, a sweet contentment and best of all, Jesus. Anyone glancing at me probably just spied an aging, greying mousy me, but alas, our eyes miss so much when we gaze only upon the surface.

How marvelous to sit by myself, to spend my so-vital daily quiet time this way. To meditate, pray and number my blessings and to relish not having anyone pulling, whisking me away to distraction. To lazily scribble lists of things to do and then tuck those lists away for their appropriate time.

How amazing to feel that you matter, even alone.

If Tom is working or just prefers to stay home after working all week? I can still drive to the river or the movies alone-but-not-alone. I can grab my purse, a book, and hop into the car feeling grateful that I didn't (like in the old days) nag Tom or throw a fit just because we wanted to do different things.

There is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother and what a glorious day it was when He became more real to me than any friend or husband, even. Especially more real than anyone sitting cluelessly nearby, believing I stepped between the doors by myself.



*******

My Rebellious Side

You probably think I'm some sweet, complacent--nice--person.

Huh!

I can be very rebellious. In fact, being rebellious even makes me smile--at times.

Just how rebellious can I get?


We have a dishwasher, but I never use it. I wash dishes by hand using a natural, toxin-free laundry detergent.

I sometimes watch Dr. Phil (deal with it) and Oprah even though many of my friends would rather die than watch them.

I'm approaching 50, but am growing my hair long anyway. It's about halfway down my back. I plan to keep it.

I do not like parties, potlucks or most situations where there is only small talk and big, noisy crowds (and I'll make excuses to avoid them). Exceptions would be the baseball games at our nearby stadium and estate sales (where, even though I love walking through old houses, I still slip away if people stand close, breathing down my neck).

Sometimes in emails or in this blog I tell people how I feel about certain things, even though I know darn well I'm going to offend some of them.

I don't let people talk me into things I don't want to, or feel I shouldn't, do. I've nearly always been good at saying 'no.'

I moved to New York with my husband and daughter even though no one else thought we should (and have proceeded to have the time of my life for 13 years).

I raised my daughter differently than the way I, myself, was raised.

I'm decorating my house with old furnishings even though most people I know prefer new.

I read tons of kids' lit. even though most of my friends stick to adult books. 

I've never once regretted dropping out of college.

I wear aprons nearly every day. For many years I wore only dresses, no slacks. (But now I wear both.)

Sometimes I eat an apple without washing it first(!)

My, my. I'll bet you never thought I was such a rebellious woman now, did you?

Actually, some of these things are humorous, but you'd be surprised at how many controlling, er, people I've irked, frustrated by my decisions. 

Really want to be used by God? Sometimes He'll use us to show others what's inside their own hearts just by being who we are. (Will they judge us? Will they gossip? Will they toss us aside because we're different?) 

We don't have to like being used that way, we just need to be willing to let God use us however He sees best, even if that means we are misunderstood in the process.

Sometimes, that's just Life with God.  Deal with it.



******

What's In There?

"Deep calleth unto deep..." Psalm 42:7


******

So there I was, sitting inside my house for three days, mostly alone (Tom being at work 12 hours or more each day), except for Jesus, our two cats and the assorted mice in our walls which like to tantalize those aforementioned fat, lazy cats. We had no electricity all those days and I felt squeezed--and not really liking what came gushing out.

Because when you have no electricity you have, instead, tons of time on your hands, especially when your town has a driving ban and it's too dangerous even to step outside for a walk, due to limbs falling down right off the trees. And so as you sit there in your cold home in front of a few candles, wondering if you should risk the carbon monoxide thing anyway with your kitchen stove--well, as I said, you have a lot of time to think.

And you find out what it's really, truly, like way down deep on the inside of yourself. You discover how deep--or shallow--is your own well.

Mine wasn't as deep and bottomless as I had previously supposed.

No, I whined a lot. Complained. Murmured about the cold and the candles which I must keep lit, which felt at times rather like keeping spinning dishes balanced on sticks. I groaned about not being able to read my email or to whine to all of you here in my blog and felt sad about the trees our community lost and got morbid pictures inside my head of a treeless Buffalo next autumn. 

And I was disappointed that, until 8:00 that first night, none of our friends or relatives called to see if we were still even alive ("Does no one listen to the news? Or do they just not care about us?"). Then at 8:00, my online buddy, Saija, called and restored my faith in mankind.(Though, four days later, she's still the only person who has called. Hmm.)

So much of it has to do with that old issue of control. 

Yes, I could have used the time to catch up on all the books and magazines I'd been wanting to read, but well, I just didn't feel like it. I mean, the situation wasn't perfect--no perfect reading light, no perfect circumstances, no normal, usual pattern to my days. (I did reread L.M.M.'s Anne's House of Dreams by candlelight and that felt pleasant.) But still, when you can't control your situation--when you can't even make a lamp work--you see for yourself that you're not the it-takes-a-whole-lot-to-ruffle-my-strong-feathers person you believed you were just last week. 

You catch yourself acting as though, "If I can't have it my way, I don't want it at all." 

But by the next morning, after Tom left for work and another long, quiet day began, I took myself by the collar (figuratively) and said, "Debra! You are simply NOT going to ruin today like you did yesterday. Instead, you're going to stop complaining and spend this day finding the bright side of every tiny thing."

And big surprise--I had a much, much better day. 


I found a local news radio station and listened to people phone in with their storm stories and I counted my blessings and prayed for those people whose problems were much greater than mine. 

I thanked God that no trees fell on our house and that we still had hot water and a new-to-us-from-God stove top which worked. And I confess--I reminded myself that at least I didn't have a whole houseful of bored, whiny kids to keep entertained. 

Also, I felt grateful that our daughter was safe in her home and I wasn't sick and the majority of trees surrounding our neighborhood were still standing and we were pretty much all stocked-up on our emergency supplies and maybe I'd find lots of email from caring friends when I went back online.

And so went the next day, also, and both days ended up being much pleasanter than the first. Oh, they were no picnic, but I tried to nip each moan in the bud and the hours didn't feel like the eternity they'd been on Friday.

Complaining only ruins things. It shows a lack of understanding that others have it much worse than I do and that my eyes are on me instead of God and the people He gives me to help.

And besides, desperately missing electricity and all the technology it brings might just be a sign that I've based my happiness too much on a switch on the wall or a computer or tv screen or radio or stereo. 

May I get to the point--someday--where I believe with all my heart that if I just have God, everything will be all right. I've asked Him to lead me in that direction, even if it means sitting in the dark sometimes.




******


Silence and hardship introduce us to our real self.