cultivate (kuhl - tuh - veyt)
v. 1) develop 2) nurture

graft (grahft)
n. 1) transplant 2) bud 3) union

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Weathered Paint and Solidarity

Remember that last blog post? Silly me! Of course you don’t. I only wrote it a month and a half ago. Well, let me refresh your memory. I told you how horrible I am with this whole "do it and pass it along" gig. I waxed on eloquently. And is was as though I explained it and the entire universe answered back "Challenge accepted!". It's hanging over me. Every time I open up my laptop, I hear the keys screaming for justice. QWERTY weeps, for I have ignored the thankful challenges and bible verse challenges and ice bucket challenges. And if I had fallen for the sleeping bag/butter/slug/kitchen floor ploy that is rampant on Facebook right now, I would have ignored that challenge too.

Time out.

You guys. No one is slathering themselves in butter and pretending to be a slug. Well, I mean, maybe someone has attempted it...but I digress.

Anyway, I’ve been busy. Pinterest won’t browse itself, ya’ know. But, no really, this moving and unpacking and organizing and “being a responsible adult” business has gone far enough. When typing up the meeting minutes is exciting because “it’s kinda like writing” it’s time to let the kids have cereal for dinner and spend a little quality time with QWERTY.*

Being that Thanksgiving is just around the corner (Did I just say that?!?), I am going to knock this all out of the ballpark. Any further “pass it along” challenges will be responded to with a link to this here post. Not even kidding. Because THE GUILT.

Now, let’s be honest. It’s easy to come up with a generic list of things for which we’re grateful. Acceptable candidates include family, health, food, a home, et cetera, et cetera...But sometimes all of that feels...blah. It’s routine, and routine thankfulness oftentimes seems flat. Oh sure, we’re sincerely thankful for all of that, but it’s like listening to one person sing a cappella; The harmonizing is crucial to its beauty. It's what lends depth and meaning to the vocal score. So, here’s my (slightly off-key) harmony for you today.

The world feels thick with grief. I’ve sensed a discernible haze of despair that seems to have settled over our minds. It feels as though our security is chipping away like weathered paint. Moral standards we thought were unshakeable are teetering. Our vibrant world of comfort is meeting with the greytones of frightening diseases. Terrorism, medical kidnapping, riots. Celebrating the taking of one's own life as brave and beautiful. It’s enough to make me want to grab that comforter all the tighter, and yank it over my head. It’s a struggle to see the beauty through the damage. Can I get an “Amen”?

And yet.

Every time fear threatens to strangle my joy, and rattle my peace, God whispers His truths to me. Again. If you feel shaken and run-down, this is for you. If you’re on top of the world, you’re not off the hook. Rejoice loudly, and with vim; For those of us trudging below need to soak up that robust warmth.

Deep breath. Feel that? It’s air in your lungs.
Look around. I don’t know where you are, or what your view is. It may be temporary, or borrowed, or picturesque, or crowded, or ritzy, or smelly, or secure. Regardless, you are there. Right now. This is your little corner of the universe for however long God sees fit. Make it a space that is steeped in that which is sacred. Share joyfully, love genuinely, and abide richly with those in your space.
Silence the distractions, stretch your mouth into praise, spread your hand over your heart. Feel that? It’s your heartbeat. Each precious pulse is needed in this world. There was a purpose for your heart long before its newborn rhythm was formed, and each moment is marked by God’s handiwork, to the very last beat.  

For this tiny breadth of time, you have life. You have a place to be and a part to harmonize. And no amount of horrific headlines can strip you of such an anointing. There will always be another news report that drops you to your knees, another hurt that scrapes you raw, another fear that pierces your faith. But there will never be another you in this world and another day like today. Seize it fiercely. Live it boldly. Breathe it deeply.

Be Filled,


*Alright, fine. It was only, like, three people. But STILL.
**Don’t even pretend your kids have never eaten cereal for dinner. Solidarity, mamas.