Thriving...in Spite of It

The other day, I was zipping from room to room, executing a quick mid-week tidy-up on the house with Olympian-like exertion, minus the grace, coordination and spandex. It was one of those spontaneous flurries of activity that bursts forth from a state of mind that’s more agitated than active—one of those moments when you lift your eyes from the task at hand to face a gargantuan to-do list, towering over you like Godzilla. With Godzilla in front of you, and a little housework behind you, it’s a no-brainer which one you had rather face: the smaller dragon, of course.  So, off I went, in all the fervor and fever of productive procrastination*, cheerfully confident in the forthcoming victory over the little dragon. I was slayin’ it. I usually spend very little time in the formal living and dining rooms, situated in the front of the house, beyond the blessed stairs, as I prefer the comfort of the breakfast table and easy chair in rooms situated in the back of the house, near the kit...

It's Monday, again, and in the afterglow of a weekend of wonderful worship and refreshing family fun, we plunge back into the doldrums of daily duties with revived enthusiasm. Then it hits--the feeling of dread, restlessness, irrelevance. However delightful and favorable your workplace may be, you're probably feeling it today--like a kid stomping back to school after a four-day weekend, sullen-faced, heavy-hearted, and distracted. Mom used to call it the "don't want-to's." Yes, that's it--don't want to be here, don't want to do this---"can't adult today," as my daughter, working her way through college, now says. The expression has come full circle, evolving into Millineal-ese, but the feeling equally familiar to us all. We all occasionally have a sense of not belonging--or at least, not belonging  here , and it has little to do with situational discontent, especially after a break from your usual rolling mountain of duties. The ...

I start every morning on the back porch with a cup of coffee and my Bible. Even though I live in the suburbs, there is no shortage of wildlife activity at that time of day (and I'm not talking about the neighborhood party animals dragging themselves home).  While a squirrel and bluejay engage in their daily skirmish on top of the fence, squabbling over whatever tidbit the squirrel has just found, birdsongs fill the trees. Occasionally, one of them will come out his cover and find a perch on a nearby rooftop, so he can maximize his volume well enough to irritate even the soundest sleeping  of all the snoozing teenagers on the block. It's a cheerful setting. Over the past few weeks, though, my curiosity began to grow. Whenever I heard a bird singing, I would wonder, is that the robin, or the cardinal? Or is it the mockingbird, imitating one or both of them?  The App Store is a wonderful thing...almost as wonderful as Wikipedia ;) In the modern style of self-educ...

If you've ever visited my home, driving up, you'll see piles of lush green foliage with splashes of color huddled in their respective flower beds on both sides of the front door. Lovely from the curb, but when you step closer, you'll easily see the disarray....much like a Renoir ... Aren't we all, really? We hope things look perfect from the outside, and do everything in our power with concealer, color, and shape-wear to make us look that way, but without God's mercy and grace, we could never have any hope of being what we intend to be. I'm picking on my hodgepodge garden for a reason.  It brings to mind three specific situations in our lives---conditions, really---that are calling for our attention...like that 6:00 AM songbird outside the window on Saturday morning. We can roll over, put a pillow over our head, and shut it out, or we can acknowledge the miraculous truth and beauty wrapped up in its notes... 1) What did you plant? Springing up between t...

It's Monday---the day after Easter---and in the afterglow of a weekend of wonderful worship and refreshing family fun, we plunge back into the doldrums of daily duties with revived enthusiasm. Then it hits--the feeling of dread, restlessness, irrelevance. However delightful and favorable your workplace may be, you're probably feeling it today--like a kid stomping back to school after a four-day weekend, sullen-faced, heavy-hearted, and distracted. Mom used to call it the "don't want-to's." Yes, that's it--don't want to be here, don't want to do this---"can't adult today," as my daughter, working her way through college, now says. The expression has come full circle, evolving into Millineal-ese, but the feeling equally familiar to us all. We all occasionally have a sense of not belonging--or at least, not belonging here , and it has little to do with situational discontent, especially after a break from your usual rolling mountain ...

As I peel my second orange of the day, in hopes of fending off another sugar withdrawal headache, I'm feeling the effects of a little too much self-indulgence the past year. From a steamy summer, savoring repeated trips to Chick fil-a for the refreshment of their famed Peach Milkshake, and into autumn and winter, which brought the annual Pumpkin Spice Latte binge, followed by Thanksgiving, Christmas, then Valentine's candy...well, it amounts to one massive sweet downward spiral for this sugar addict. Shameful. Even though my denomination does not traditionally observe Lenten season, you can see why I feel the need to do it myself.  There are times to indulge, and times to enjoy, but I'm attacked with pangs of guilt, (pains unfortunately unabated by Motrin or Excedrin) regularly, on the 24th of the month, as I work my way through Proverbs 24, to verse 27. "It is not good to eat much honey; so to seek one's own glory, is not glory." Ouch.  " He  must   ...

If you are like me, you're plunging into the week today like an 18th century firefighter, a full bucket in each hand, running full speed ahead, using every ounce of strength, concentration and determination you can muster to keep from sloshing out any of the precious contents, or, worse yet, tripping and toppling, losing them all. One bucket is full of obligations -- the other, your passion, your mission, and the desires of your heart. Both are filled to the brim, heaving under the insufficient handles of good intentions -- handles that creak, slip, and blister your hands as you fight their heavy sway to hold them tightly. How can you possibly chase your dreams in such a precarious, painful state? Jesus made it a point to tell us to cast our cares on Him, because He cares for us. We do it, alright, but then we pick them up again. God pleads with us to find rest in Him, and we say, OK, just for a moment...you sit down, carefully easing your buckets to the floor. You look around ...