T is for Timing {an a2z take 2 post}

The author of Ecclesiastes writes (if you've ever seen "Footloose" this will sound familiar):

There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:
A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.
(Eccl 3:1-8 MSG)

Country music (and a classic cliche) put it this way: "Timing is everything."
If the timing is off in my car, nothing runs quite the way it's supposed to.
If the timing is off between a couple on Dancing With the Stars, they aren't voted on to the next week of competition

Timing (and missing it) are scary prospects.

What if we "miss" the plan? What if our internal clock is skewed by a slow battery or a sun flare or a prankster in the household? What if we don't "hear" from heaven and respond accordingly in time? Are we then lost to the ultimate power and control of that incessant ticking called TIME?

I don't think so.
In my opinion, God is bigger than our mere human understanding of time in the form of years and centuries and millenia. Forgive my comparison, please, but like Doctor Who of BBC fame, God is the ultimate "TIME LORD."

And because His expressed will for us is for our GOOD, not for our failure, defeat, or destruction, He is well able (and perhaps more importantly, willing) to correct our human failures in timing in order that His perfect plan for our well-being is ultimately fulfilled.

The Patrick and I are notorious for getting lost on road trips. On the way home from Las Vegas we missed the only exit we needed to take on the interstate (and that with GPS) and ended up more than an hour off course somewhere in Utah. We were lost because we hadn't been paying attention to the blinking dot on the iPhone that marked our course, but that didn't mean we were forsaken! (Although the dot on the map we found ourselves at might have been sucked right out of a "Deliverance" or "Race With the Devil" movie set.

Too many people get off course, fall out of God's plan for some reason, find themselves on an unexpected detour, or are convinced they are lost forever. Not. True. Can you imagine how crazy insane it would have been if we'd called up the kids and said, "We missed an exit, got lost, and are gonna  settle down in this tiny little burg in the boonies of Utah." Um, no. No one does that. (Do they?)

Sure, missed turns and opportunities cost us something, but they aren't the end of the road! Our God is able to redeem the time, able to give us new opportunities. Stop looking backward at what you may have missed and start looking forward! 

Check out these other From A2Z for U and Me Take Two posts...

Leaving the Land of Limbo (at last)

One week from tomorrow we will (finally) exit the Land of Limbo—that bizarre, alternate-realm between one phase of life and the next to which we refer when we're between decisions, between jobs, between relationships, or just BETWEEN.

We can thank the Roman Catholic church for the word (not the dance from the West Indies).

www.dictionary.com

Ugh. The definitions aren't pretty, are they? But for anyone who has ever visited the Land of Limbo, you know how accurate they are. Rest assured, our Bible heroes and heroines know something about being in limbo and we can learn from them.

Moses spent 40 years watching sheep for his father-in-law between the time he understood the truth about his heritage and the activation of his calling. The Israelites wandered around the mountain for 40 years in limbo because they couldn't come to terms with the facts: God is bigger than the bogeyman, no matter what form the bogeyman takes. I imagine Elijah experienced a visit to Limboland when the Brook Cherith dried up (1 Kings 17) and he was sent elsewhere to seek supernatural provision in the middle of a famine.

What about Joseph in that Egyptian prison, betrayed by his brothers, and forgotten by his fellow inmates? Or Jonah in the belly of the fish? Jesus understands (probably better than any of us) the state of limbo ... In a way, His whole life on earth was a kind of limbo, a balancing act between the natural and supernatural realms, brought to a climax in the Garden of Gethsemane (translate: olive press), the crucifixion, and the resurrection.

And what about the ladies? Women (ladies-in-waiting) seem to be destined to go through the Land of Limbo. How about the woman whose child died? For her the Land of Limbo was the time it took to go find the man of God (Elijah) and the moment her child was restored to life. What about Rebekah, who waited for years to bear a child for her one true love, Isaac, while he fathered multiple sons with her sister, Leah? (Tell me the Bible isn't full of sordid, reality-drama worthy tales!) I'm sure Sarah took her turn in the Land of Limbo when Abraham came home and said, "Honey, God told me to pack up and move. I don't know where, and we're gonna have to live in a tent until we get there, but..." Or Noah's wife, who watched her DH spend more than 100 years building a boat (no one had ever seen a boat, or rain) because he believed what God had spoken to him was true. Would you have been tempted to have him committed? I might have. Or the (now) highly esteemed virgin Mary—the unwed teenage mother—who had to wait for her husband-to-be, Joseph, to hear from God through a dream that she hadn't actually cheated on him to get pregnant lest she face public execution. Anybody else ever had to wait for a man to hear from God before you can breathe easy? Talk about limbo!

Your Land of Limbo probably has your own personal stamp on it. It could be the transition between childhood and adulthood, between college and career, between wife and mother, between mother and grandmother. It could be waiting for adoption papers to be signed, waiting for divorce papers to go through, or waiting to learn the results of a medical test. It could be as simple as the transition from one job to another, or as difficult as walking through the terminal illness and subsequent death of a loved one.

As a human, I seek understanding during limbo seasons.
As a believer, I turn to God for that understanding.
As a writer, I pray what I learn will translate into words that help, heal, and generate hope.

What to do when you find yourself in the Land of Limbo? Here's what I've learned so far...

1. We will all pass through the Land of Limbo many times during our lives. (My version, the way God give it to me: Suck it up and deal with it.)
2. The only real danger in the Land of Limbo is stopping to dwell there. (My version: Don't camp out in Limboland! Keep moving, be proactive. Do what you can, when you can.)

3. Don't embrace Limbo as a lifestyle, instead, as you journey, embrace the hope of what's possible on the other side. There IS something positive you can focus on, the trick is finding that thing.

I'll close with the following, a song from the 1940s, another era when our nation was in a state of flux. The words of lyricist Johnny Mercer clue us in to what we need to do when we find ourselves in the Land of Limbo. Take special note of the words "don't mess with Mr. In-Between." That's the Land of Limbo, Dear Reader, and it's nothing to trifle with! Forward, march!

When HE is not home

All my little nestlings are in for the night. Four children, 1.5 grandbabies. Thank You, Lord, they are safely corralled within my four walls tonight.

But HE is not home tonight

And while I miss him — his comforting presence, his authoritative role in the household — I find myself strangely relaxed for the most trivial reasons.

I can stay up as late as I want.
I can leave the dirty dishes in the sink. (I won't, it bothers oldest child.)
I can watch Lifetime made-for-TV movies without fear of ridicule.

It's not that HIMSELF is a tyrant. He could care less whether I make dinner, stay up late, do the dishes, or watch fluffy made-for-TV movies. He's awesome that way. His expectations are minimal. My sense of responsibility toward him is self-induced, the product of our culture.

I'm not alone.
I can't count the number of women I've talked to who breathe a sigh of relief when their husbands are away. Not because they don't love their menfolk, but because it's a kind of mini-vacation from the 24/7 responsibilities that come with the title of "wife."

When HE is away, it means cereal or boxed mac & cheese for supper, it means the bed stays unmade, it means you don't experience any subliminal pressure to shave your legs or pits.

For the ladies among us who are breakfast champions, creating full meals for their households before everyone trots off to work or school, having HIM away means you pour cold cereal into the bowl and call it good.

For those among us whose children are older, it means you don't fret over the two extra hours you wasted hunting and gathering at Ross, or purveying the sales at Kohl's. It means you finish reading that novel, instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour.

Sounds like freedom.... and yet, I'd rather have HIM here, with me.

S is for Simplify {an a2z take 2 post}

We're in the process of moving. It's a process because we have weeks to accomplish the goal. Therefore, some members of my household are dragging their feet and others are lunging at the gate. (I won't tell you which category I fall into.)

This afternoon we filled the box truck with another load. This load included the living room couch, area rugs, coffee table and sofa table; all my books and bookshelves; and the kitchen table and chairs. My living room and dining room are now a vast expanse of empty space. I kind of like it.

As we've been packing and sorting and separating, it has occurred to me that we pack the empty spaces in our lives with "stuff." Why? I think we're afraid of empty space. We're afraid of silence. We're afraid of hunger. We're afraid of the uncomfortable and the inconvenient and the unpleasant. So we fill the spaces in our lives with "stuff."

• Books we've read and never intend to read again that line our shelves.
• Blankets and towels and linens in enough quantity to supply a small army (or at least a Boy Scout troop). 
• Pictures and knick-knacks and tchochkes and fluff to soften the impact of blank walls and empty tabletops.
• "Spares" of everything from vases to toothbrushes to screwdrivers.
• And that's just what's in the house... I won't even begin to analyze all the "stuff" in the garage and shed, because that's hubby's domain, and we've already had multiple discussions about whose stuff is cluttering up that space. (At least my junk was in boxes. That's my excuse.)

Remember the TV commercials that featured children padding themselves up with toilet paper to protect against falls or spankings? How much of the stuff in our lives is merely our attempt to provide padding in case we take a tumble or get rebuked?

As I'm in this process of spiritual renovation, I see the same pattern in my spiritual life...  discovering all the "extras" I've been using in my relationship with God—religious tchotchke's that satisfiy the fleshly desire for religious accolades while leaving the spirit empty and bereft. I go to pray and God interrupts me: "Is that you, or is that Memorex?" Am I praying by rote—merely reciting words I've heard others say—or is my communication with my Creator and Savior alive and interactive? He's alive, therefore my communication ought to be alive as well, shouldn't it?

The world around us is becoming more and more complicated. Even as social communication and interaction increase, so do confusion and misinterpretation and even outright deception. It's time, spiritually and naturally, to apply the principles of simplicity: freedom from complexity, freedom from intricacy, or division into parts; the absence of pretentiousness; and sincerity.

I believe it's time for us to get simple, time to apply the KISS principle. (Keep It Simple, Stupid.) Where have YOU complicated your life? Your spiritual walk? Your relationships with others? As someone has said, "when things don't add up, start subtracting."

How can, or do, you need to simplify?  




(For more a2z take 2 posts, click the pic...)

What's the deal with Instagram?

I like to think I'm at least rounding the techie curve, but Instagram has me at a loss.

I get on Facebook and Pinterest and half a dozen of my friends have loaded pics via Instagram's app. At first I thought it was just a quirky way to make photos look old... like the Polaroid instant pics in my childhood photo albums.

Klearchos Guide to the Galaxy

Um, yeah, okay. And why do I want to regress to Polaroid Instamatic quality photos when I can digitally manipulate my pictures in seconds with Gimp or any other free photo editors online? Heck, a few years back I merged pictures so we had ONE family Christmas photo where child #4 wasn't making a goofy face. Oldest son is still angry with me for "fixing" his teeth, and youngest thinks it's weird I did a cut-and-paste job on his head to create a picture I could live with. Deal with it, kid.

I loaded the Instagram app on my iPhone months ago, I just haven't figured out why using it is preferable to using the regular camera app for recording my day to day photos. Not that I'm a big picture-taker anyway, but I'm beginning to think Instagram is a photo app for the beautiful people... People who aren't compelled to digitally whiten teeth, blur wrinkles, and erase the dog taking a dump from their family barbecue photos (you know who you are).

So, for all you Instagram fans, what am I missing?

Leave me alone, I'm renovating. {a2z take 2}

Since The Patrick and I can't even hang a picture together without getting irritated, we've agreed that we'll never attempt a DIY home remodeling project. I can't stand it. It's too messy. Too inconvenient. Full of unexpected obstacles and unpleasant discoveries. And, it always takes longer and costs more than expected.

That said, my Abba Father has me in the midst of a spiritual renovation that's turning out to be equally messy, inconvenient, and uncomfortable. Even worse, He seems to be keeping the project blueprints secret, presumably so I won't (again) attempt to perform a DIY version of what He has planned. I just have to keep trusting that my heavenly architect knows what He is doing, and has something good planned, because that's what He promised.

As with most professional renovation projects, stage one involves gutting the existing structure. Oh yeah, that's fun. Not. Wise renovators turn off the power and the gas so they can install new fixtures without risk of electrocution or explosions. Unfortunately, that means when you go to turn on the stove, the stove is not there. When you turn to the sink, the water is off. Everything you've come to depend and rely on is either missing, out of place, or out of order.


That spot where the pipe leaked and warped the floor, and you threw a rug over it? It's now a gaping hole, ready to be properly repaired. The dent in the wall where you threw the toaster across the room in a fit of rage and then patched the wall with spackle and paint? Not okay, according to the pros. Nope, to do it right, they strip it all down to the barest skeleton of the original design. It's quite a process. And when it's taking place internally, it's a bit painful.

And that's where I'm at... almost empty. 14+ years of hidden rot, a termite here or there, some hasty patch jobs, leaky pipes, dangerous wiring, faulty fixtures and obsolete appliances are being systematically done away with.

Spiritually speaking I'm talking about hidden wounds, old offenses, weak doctrines, lies the enemy planted that took root, emotional ruts, "stinking thinking" and old ways of doing and being that are not just futile and ineffective, they are dangerous.

I'm looking forward to the moment when Abba says, "Darling daughter, open your eyes and see what I have done." I know it will be good, better than I can ask or think. But right now? I'm getting back in that cocoon...