I thought of this old post this morning so I thought I'd repost it here...
***
For years our back door had been its original, boring grey metal color. Not only that, but rust was growing along its panel edges, even though we have a clear glass storm door, too. And to top it off, there were a handful of little tar splatters from the time we had our driveway resurfaced.
It's weird how we learn to live with things like that, especially important things like doors where people get the first impressions of our homes. And it's especially bad when you consider that where I live, all our neighbors, delivery people, friends and relatives use the back door. You could nail your front door shut and no one outside your family would even care.
Well, finally last week I painted our back door a terrific medium-dark country-blue. Not only that, but I stenciled a white bow with a little heart in its center, then beneath that, I stenciled the word, 'Imagine.'
What an improvement!
With the whirlwind of activity around here I got to thinking about how worry is a misuse of my imagination. If I am worrying, then I'm imagining that something negative will happen. I am using my imagination to picture a bad outcome and then dwelling on what I see happening in my mind.
I'd much rather use my imagination for purposes God intended, like, picturing ways I can help others or ways I can decorate my home. Or ways I can stretch our money and live on less or how I can lose weight, arrange my garden or get more done in my day.
But I do not want to use my imagination as a canvas for worry. When I look at that word, 'Imagine,' on my back door, I want to use it as a signal to ponder the good which is ahead of me. I want our visitors to ponder that, too.
***
Worry ruins what could have been a perfectly marvelous day.
I live in four rooms. Well, there's a laundry closet, too, so technically that may mean four-and-a-half. But either way, this is one tiny place.
And yet, you know? Most days this apartment feels like oodles of enough space for Tom and me. When he's in the living room watching tv or he's on the computer (or both. A mirror hangs over the computer table so he can view the tv in its reflection. Silly, I know.), well, I can sit out at my spiffy desk in the dining room and pretend I have a whole office.
Or I can watch the small tv in our bedroom while sitting in bed, gazing at magazines or playing with our cats (who believe this room, actually, belongs to them). Or I can even carry the tv into the kitchen and cook for hours while enjoying the company of favorite tv people. Or I could also exercise in the dining room (or the bedroom in between our beds) or take a long bubble bath in the bathroom.
And when Tom's not home, well, wow! Then I get the whole living room to myself. I can even sit in front of the windows and soak-up the sun, reading while drinking coffee or just loll upon the couch and watch our new flat screen tv, the only tv which picks up our basic (basic!) cable channels.
So, wow! Lately I've wondered just how much room does a person truly need, anyway?
Probably as much as my head tells me, which means, I can be contented anywhere, even in a small space, if my head is determined to be contented. Disciplined.
I am not helpless, after all, and I can be contented anywhere, as long as God stands beside me with all that He is.
******
If my world feels tiny that's only a reflection of my current imagination.
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I'm back! Well mostly. Good ol' Tom 'caved' and signed up for DSL here at our Grace Place. He got a terrific deal and his boss is even chipping in five dollars per month since Tom often must bring his work home. Plus, his company has given him their own laptop computer, so hey!
Part of me was enjoying being computer-free. Much. No more addiction, no having to check-in all the time to Computer Land in case I'd miss important things. No more looking-up every tiny curiosity inside my head and--
But there's a best of both worlds thing here with this new DSL thing. Tom will have this laptop with him at the plant 40 hours a week so I'll still be mostly computer-free except on the weekends. Sounds sane and good to me, at least in this current season.
Anyway. Remember when I dreamed about moving to Mt. Airy, NC? You know, the place very much like Andy Griffith's Mayberry? Well, yesterday some photos arrived from my friend, Wilma, who visited Mayber--, er, Mt. Airy last week on vacation with her husband.
The photos made me insane.
Oh, I immediately wanted to pack up and move there this weekend! The town was everything I'd imagined--old-fashioned, cozy and fun. But what made me bonkers and brought tears to my eyes? The trees in Mt. Airy have green leaves on them. In February!
Oh my goodness. Here in Buffalo? I'm living in the North Pole (well...) with white (and brown) snow, ice and gloomy grey skies and grey, bare trees and where it's a great day if I can make it back from the convenience store without getting all frozen-faced.
Sigh. Tom and I have gotta get out of here. I still love this tiny cottage, yes, but the world outside its windows makes me nuts.
Oh well. I guess this all proves I'm not sticking close enough to Grace, not listening and not receiving what she has to give. Too often we struggle to get what God would hand us if only we'd receive it.
So today will be another Receiving Day, one where I stop complaining and instead, receive His joy, strength and contentment. How much more marvelous is that than anything I try whipping up, myself.
*****
