Life. It's good today.

I've had this song stuck in my head for 5 days now.   The message is great - the words, not so much.  I've had to catch myself several times to avoid singing it out loud, because it has words that are unbecoming for me to say.

I've got my toes in the water .......my <something else> in the sand.  Not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand -  life is good today.... yeah, life is good today.
It started playing through my mind on Saturday.  I was on a surfboard, bobbing up and down in the line up, waiting for a set to come through.

Life is good today

"As if it isn't good any other day of the week?" I asked myself.

A morning fish fry on the beach with the family gathered around - goofing off, playing silly games, running races and making up competitions - followed by a afternoon surf session.  Not everyday events, but definitely nothing out of the ordinary.

"Okay so maybe 'today' is good" I concluded.  "But that doesn't mean that tomorrow's 'today' won't be great too!"

Cut to Sunday afternoon when I've finally gotten around to washing my car, inside and out.  The sun is shining down, drying the soap suds before I have a chance to rinse them off and as I'm standing there with my feet in a puddle of soapy water the song starts up again.

I've got my toes in the water, my <hmmm> in the sand...... Life is good today.


And again on Monday, laying in the grass with my little brother after working out with him.

And Tuesday evening, doing the dinner dishes with my family in the new kitchen.

In the song, the singer is on vacation in Mexico when he decides that life is good, but it's when he runs out of money and has to go back to work that he learns the good things in life aren't dependent on location or circumstance.  Life is what you make of it.

Today at work I was walking through the warehouse, listening to the birds singing and smelling the rain when I was reminded again.

Life is good today.

Worth the drive

The twelve of us huddled around a table in the lodge, the early morning light streaming through the windows. Other skiers and snowboarders strolled by, sending us curious glances and occasionally staring for longer than was polite.

6am is an early hour for a Sunday morning, but the coffee cups on the table made up for the early part, and the anticipated day on the slopes made up for the drive.

We took turns reading from John 15 around the circle.

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love."

"If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love."

"My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you."

(I already knew I wasn't gonna like this topic. Not that I have anything against it, but I've come to see more and more lately how bad I am at loving.)

We started to discuss what that looked like. What it means to love someone - and not just anyone, but to love the body of Christ.

Oh good. I'm in the clear with that one. I'm good at loving my friends. Or I thought, anyways. As we dug deeper into the Word, my conscience was pricking me harder and harder.

"Love is sacrifice."

"Love is wanting the best for someone even if its the hard thing."

"Love is intervention, sometimes."

"Love is desiring to grow spiritually- pursuing spiritual gifts - just for the benefit of the other members of the body."

They were all right, you know. I don't think we completely summed up what it is to actually love one another in our 20 minute Bible study, but I came away convicted and challenged and encouraged.

So it was worth it after all. The getting up early, the long drive - yep. It was worth it. Going all the way up the mountain and not snowboarding, because they wouldn't change our tickets after all - yep, totally worth it.

Oh, and then there's that last verse - the one that I've been mulling over for days now.

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."

If life had a "rewind" option...

Yesterday was a good day. The late afternoon sun streamed through the open windows while the family gathered in the kitchen to discuss the events of the work day behind us and the evening ahead of us.

I could get used to evenings like this I remember thinking to myself. My family does a lot. We go a lot of places, host a lot of people, do a lot of things - but that evening, it was just us for a little while. Different ones would be going out, and some others weren't home, making it not quite a family evening, just a quiet one. Nobody to cook for, nobody to entertain.

I wandered into the bedroom only to hear voices out the window. Peeking through the curtain I could see our new neighbor walking around the yard, giving her young nephew a tour.

We'd met her 4 days ago at church, and after spending the whole day with us, this was her third time back in just 4 days.

In my mind I played out scenarios where someone could take her aside and tell her that she was welcome to come to church on Sunday, but all the other days of the week she should give our family some space.

To be honest, those thoughts shocked me. Shocked and disgusted me. I wanted to take them back, but there they were, glaring at me, accusing me, revealing where my heart stood on the matter.

"You wanna meet my Pastor and his wife?" I heard her ask her nephew, a hint of pride in her voice.

His answer must have been affirmative, because soon I heard my parents greeting her from the kitchen, their welcome sincere.

Ashamed of my own heart, I drug my feet back into the kitchen in time to see her back, as she carried her nephew away.

"We're a novelty to her" I commented to my dad.

"Hmm?"

I ran out of words to explain it so my dad took it up.

"She likes it here. She get attention and she feels accepted."

If she only knew... you wanted to send her away. My conscience accused me.

Today I read in Colossians 3 the exhortation that says:

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive... forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues, put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

I just hope I'll have another opportunity to show Christ's love to our new friend. And I hope I won't screw it up.

Blind as a bat

I left home without my glasses this morning. I was totally crusin' along, taking time to do my hair and have tea with my baby sister, (tea for me, hot chocolate for her) and I get to work only to realize that I had left my glasses on my bed.

"____, ____, ____!" The words I said in my mind were childish, unprofessional and don't belong on this blog. (Does it make it better if they didn't actually come out of my mouth?)

So there I was at work, and my glasses were 15 minutes away at home. (30 minutes with traffic)

Might as well make the best of it. I fired up my computer and squinted at the screen for a few seconds before muscle memory took over and I went to work. Clicking the links I needed to open because I knew where they were, not because I knew what they said, signing in to my 3 different email accounts that I work off of as a customer service rep, and booting up our online system.

I continued to move through my morning routine in the same manner before I realized that this was nothing new.

I do this all the time, only not at work.

It's called going through the motions.

And it's pathetic. Almost as pathetic as me, putting in eight hours in front of a computer without being able to read a word off the screen.

No regrets

Not this time

I’m gonna let my heart defeat my mind

Let Your love

Make me whole

I think I’m finally feeling something

I don’t wanna go through the motions

I don’t wanna go one more day

Without Your all consuming passion inside of me

I don’t wanna spend my whole life asking

What if I had given everything?

Instead of going through the motions

And yeah, I just copy-pasted that from a website without reading it, cause I can't really see it. It's scary how good I've gotten at detaching my heart from what my hands are doing.

Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to leave my glasses behind - for helping me to see so clearly what I've been doing to my walk with you, and for always, always, always welcoming me back into your arms.

A Joyful Noise

Music. It's an integral part of my life. Lifting my voice in harmonious praise is as familiar as eating, breathing or sleeping. Between Mom's angelic vocals and Dad's passion for making melody, it's not a wonder that we, (my brothers and sisters and myself) are a little bit obsessed with music.

It was a deep rooted love for praising our maker - or that's how I always considered it, until I had a startling reality check a couple of weeks ago.

The shortened version of the back-story would be that for the past 16 (or more) years we've been going every Sunday afternoon to an assisted living facility, (that's halfway between a nursing home and a retirement community) to do a church service for the residents there.

16 years of Sundays to practice singing in harmony, to perform special music and learn to blend our voices together. 16 years of singing the same hymns until we know them as well as we know our names, and most importantly, 16 years of unforgettable characters.

So there we were, a couple of weeks ago, halfway through a familiar hymn when one of our memorable friends shuffled in. We knew without looking that she had arrived, by her out of pitch, loud, un-rhythmic singing. I nudged my brother and snickered, before singing just a little bit louder to drown her out.

Do you really think your music is more pleasing to Me than hers is?

What?? Where did that come from?

At least she's singing from her heart. You're singing for your own gratification.

I craned my head over my shoulder to take a look, and saw our friend - with her shoulders thrown back, her head erect, the emotion of the words displayed across her face - and I knew that I had been wrong.

"Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth:

make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise.

Let the floods clap their hands: let the hills be joyful together before the LORD; for he comes to judge the earth: with righteousness shall he judge the world, and the people with equity."

Finding "that moment".

I slept late this morning. I've slept late all week. Something about the time change, and my body rebelling against rising before there's light in the sky.

I slept through the sunrise, through my quiet time on the couch. I slept through my morning coffee and putting on my make-up. (okay, nothing new there.. I almost always choose sleep over that) And this morning I even slept through a hot breakfast.

When my feet finally hit the floor this morning, I barely had time to brush my teeth, scoop some cottage cheese into a bowl with frozen berries and ground flax, say "good morning" to my sisters and run out the door.

The funny thing is, that even after 10 hours of sleep, I wasn't feeling refreshed or energized. Something was missing. My body was rested and refueled, but my soul? It's a different story. Starving might be the right word.

"I just can't seem to find the time, Lord!" I complained, navigating my car through the metropolis I call my home.

"I know that man can't live by bread alone, but this girl can't live without sleep either."

He restores my soul. That still small voice reminded me.

This morning's light traffic allowed for a quick stop on my way to work. And who orchestrates traffic? The window and door to the warehouse being open allowed for music of the birds singing to waft into my office. And who gave the birds a voice?
The phones have been quiet for the last half hour, and I find myself with my bible and journal spread across my desk, cradling my cardboard coffee cup in my hands.

It might take a stretch to find that moment of peace and tranquility, but that stretch helps me remember that He doesn't need my help - or my cleverness and creativity.

He restores my soul.

Safe

Even living at a church it's unusual for people to approach us to ask for help. Unusual, but not unheard of. In the 6 years we've lived here I can still count by name (if not by face) the people who have ventured past the gate on a weekday and made their way up to the house, knocking on the door, asking for a help or a handout.

Last night was an unusual. The woman is one we all know and recognized right away. Her bright blonde pigtails and colorful striped knee socks make her stand out from the crowd. Blonde hair and colorful clothing isn't that unusual in sunny SoCal - on a teenager, but it's a statement for this middle aged Cantonese woman. Having met her once or twice when she came to church years ago, we would point her out on the sidewalks, (not that she needed pointing too) and say, "oh, there's Holly."

Last night I was getting ready to go to bed, taking advantage of the quiet evening at home, hoping to get ahead on sleep when my sister looked out the window to say, "oh, there's Holly."

She was invited in and we tried as best as we could to understand her trouble and how we could help her. She babbled like a simple minded 12 year old about antiques and Hong Kong, her father being a millionaire and Hello Kitty suitcases full of gold that her landlord possibly stole - and French Bibles.

After listening to her talk, I wandered into the living room, frustrated and sad and I'm not sure what else. (overtired.)

Dad read the emotions on my face and smiled. "I'm guessing you need to go to bed?"

"Well, yeah, but..." I shrugged. What can you do?

"Where is her family!?" I finally blurted in frustration. "How do they let her just globe-trot around when she clearly isn't okay?"

I don't know if I was more frustrated with her for keeping me from going to bed, or my family for not knowing how to help her, or at her family for not taking care of her.

"She's safe tonight." My dad offered.

What is the price of two sparrows--one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.

She is safe. Even without her family watching over her. Or our family. Or anybody.

I went to bed last night feeling incredibly spoiled, blessed, taken care of, humbled and I don't know what else. (still overtired) When I woke up this morning Holly was gone, but she left reminders. A 20$ bill in the living room along with a scribbled thank you note, a collection of tea and jam and honey packets, (the type they give out at restaurants) in the kitchen, and a whole new appreciation for God's love in my heart.