Paper Heart

I started this post a month ago and am just finishing it now. They say better late than never, so here goes.

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and in light of that, I've been contemplating writing a blog. Historically, my take on V Day has tended to be a cynical one. I usually scoff at the endless commercials for diamond jewelry, boxes of chocolate wrapped in gold foil, and dozens of long stem roses-the typical objects a man uses to express his affections toward a woman on V Day. Do I think it's ridiculous that society has chosen one day a year to express "love" through objects? Yes. Did I secretly want a man to give me diamonds, chocolate, and roses on V Day? Yes. Did it happen? No.

Insert sad song here.

Just kidding. You probably thought I'd spend the rest of this blog weaving a tale of woe, but I've decided to tell a better tale. It's the story of a paper heart.

It was 7:28 on a Thursday evening, and she walked into the food pantry with her dad. I didn't recognize her. Or him. This must have been their first time. I copied down the name and address from his drivers license and handed him a white piece of paper that listed the food items the pantry typically carries. Cereal, granola bars, pasta, peanut butter and jelly... This was the first Thursday of the month, which is the day my church community group serves at a local food pantry. We've been serving there for over six months, and it's been both a challenging and amazing experience. Challenging, because we see the faces of poverty and run around for 3 hours in a hot kitchen stuffing grocery bags with food and sometimes have picky clients who insist on particular kinds of canned soup. Amazing, because we're learning the names of the people we serve and have been able to build relationships with some of the clients and have seen God at work in and through us. We've been praying for more "God moments" at the pantry, and we've been getting them.

He finished checking off the items that he wanted, and I handed the list to a fellow volunteer to fill the order. I've assumed the role of check-in coordinator, so I'm usually the one at the kitchen window taking down names and keeping the paperwork organized while others fill the orders in the back. Rather than taking a seat at one of the available tables, they both stood near the counter, waiting for their order to be completed. I make attempts to strike up conversations with clients as much as possible, and this evening was no different than any other. I started talking with the girl. She had long brown hair, brown eyes, and a shy disposition. I found out that her name is Faith. She's 9 and is in the 3rd grade. We chatted for a couple of minutes- about her favorite subjects and such- and then I handed them two paper bags full of food. They thanked me and said goodbye. I carried on with organizing paperwork.

About 3 minutes after they walked out of the pantry, she came walking back into the room with a smile on her face and something in her hand. It was a paper heart. This paper heart.

She handed it to me and said she had made it in school for Valentines Day. She wanted me to have it. I took it from her hand and stared at the masterpiece I had been handed, amazed. I told her it was beautiful and thanked her with an even bigger smile on my face. She said she'd bring more next time and walked out. I held the paper heart in my hand, the muscle heart in my chest about as full as it could be. Such a special gift. It wasn't fancy or expensive, but it was genuine, and it was full of love.

There are different kinds of love, and all are amazing in their own ways. Valentines Day focuses on a specific kind- the kind that so many of us are seeking. I was shown another kind of love that Thursday evening, and it was exactly the kind that I needed that day. I think that paper heart reflected a piece of God's heart- an illustration of His goodness. And really, it doesn't get much better than that, no matter how dark the chocolate or red the roses may be.

Wherever You Are, Be All There

I'm currently reading a book by Ann Voskamp called One Thousand Gifts. The author, who has been diagnosed with cancer, shares her journey of learning to live more fully and deeply, of soaking up all that life has to offer-both the good and the bad-and experiencing true joy. In her reflections on life-on the often mundane and unexciting daily tasks required of us- and the painful experiences-the loss and regret that we all to often cloak ourselves in-she explores the possibility of practicing thankfulness (eucharisteo) and how true and intentional thankfulness in all circumstances can transform our lives and leave us more fulfilled than we ever imagined possible. Perhaps a bit cliche, and she's certainly not the first to propose the idea, but I think there's something for all of us in this search for fulfillment and contentment.

I'm 69 pages in and have really been struck by some of the things she writes and how she writes them. So honest and so simple, yet so profound. Perhaps it's because I've been feeling short of words as of late, or perhaps it's because her words ring true in my life and have reminded me of who I want to be when I grow up. In the few pages that I read tonight, this line stood out to me most: "Wherever you are, be all there." Honest and simple, yet profound. Be all there.

This is something that I've struggled with quite a bit in my life, particularly the past few years. I think that the "Wherever you are" has not necessarily been the "Where you want to be" for me. Of course, if you asked me where I want to be, I don't know if I could tell you. Knowing myself (which I like to take credit for every once in a while), I'd probably respond by saying "anywhere but here." Isn't that the truth? There's always a destination, an aspiration, a goal to be achieved. There's always a greener lawn and a bluer sky and warmer sun. A better job. A more exciting chapter in life. And there's usually discontentment and daydreaming and wishing for a different "wherever you are."

But where's the thankfulness? And where's the joy? And the contentment? Is that something that's being practiced? Where's the eucharisteo? This is where I am. In Philly. Ardmore, to be exact. I'm at my job, and I'm at my church, and I'm in my bedroom that's smaller than I want it to be. And I'm single. But am I present? Am I here? Am I living in the moment and soaking up the experiences and investing in the people and opportunities around me? To the fullest? Am I engaged? I think that's my goal for this year. To be more engaged. Not the kind that comes with a shiny ring, but the kind that comes comes with practicing eucharisteo for the little things and the big things, the kind that can even be thankful for the speed bumps and potholes along the way, because those are part of the journey, and they are part of the "wherever you are." They are part of where I am. And while I suspect that I will always be hopeful for a warmer sun, I'm going to try to be more intentional about enjoying my current view. Kind of like a daffodil bud patiently waiting out the winter, taking it in for what it offers, in anticipation of spring.

I'll end with this line from her book:

"Thanksgiving-giving thanks in everything-is what prepares the way for salvation's whole restoration. Our salvation in Christ is real, yet the completeness of that salvation is not fully realized in a life until the life realizes the need to give thanks. In everything?"

Yes, in everything.

Writer's Block

Writer's block, by definition, is "a condition, primarily associated with writing as a profession, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work." (Wikipedia)

I think I have it. It's been over six months since I've written a blog. Correction: it's been over six months since I've completed and posted a blog. It's not for lack of ideas, because I've started quite a few. 45, to be exact. I've started 45 blogs but have not gotten them past the draft stage. Some are simply a title, an attempt to capture a profound idea that floated through my mind on a Sunday afternoon or a Tuesday evening. Others are words, paragraphs, sentence fragments that begin to delve into that profound idea but fail to offer any brilliant discoveries, conclusive evidence, or clever witticisms that would deem the blog worthy publication. This leaves me with jokes without punchlines and stories without endings. Not much for entertainment.

My inability to produce leads to frustration, which leads to apathy, which circles back around to more frustration. It's a vicious cycle, really. The desire is there, but the creativity, dedication, and follow through aren't, at least at the moment. Perhaps I'm uninspired, or even more credibly, perhaps I've been afraid to write, afraid to be vulnerable, to open up my thoughts again, to offer an opinion, to believe that I have something worth sharing. It's a challenge to regain confidence after losing it, but it's a process worth pursuing. So for all (read 13) of my dedicated followers, I'm going to attempt writing again. Soon. You'll have to let me know how it goes.

Do You Trust Me?

Do you trust me?

Of course I trust you. How can you ask me that? I trust you. I know that you’re going to work this out for me. But can I just ask you something? How? And when?

Do you trust me?

Yes, I told you I trust you. But how are you going to do it? When is it going to happen? Will it be soon? I’m not seeing any light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m reaching the end of my rope. Can you hurry?

Do you trust me?

Most of the time. I’m doing my best to remember your promises. You’ve been faithful in the past, so why would the present or the future be any different? But why? Why am I going through this? Am I supposed to be learning a profound life lesson? When will I be done learning?

Do you trust me?

I think so. But sometimes I can’t see you in any of it. And it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. What’s the point of all of this anyway? You promise to work all things out for my good, but I can’t seem to find the good in what’s happening. Am I missing something here?

I am Yahweh, the first and the last. I created the universe. I tell the waves where to stop and the sun when to rise. I water the earth with rains in the spring. I clothe the lilies of the valley with splendor and feed the birds of the air. I intricately formed you when you were in your mother’s womb and know every detail about you. Those freckles on your nose that you don’t like very much: I made those. Those tears you cried late at night: I caught those in my hands. Those times you felt like you couldn’t take another step: I carried you. Those prayers you prayed that didn’t seem to be answered: I heard every single one of them. And those times you felt as though you would never make it out of your situation: I blew your mind with what I can handle.

And so I ask you… Do you trust me?

And Then There Was One

I'm not one for writing bunny obituaries, but I feel as though I need to pay some kind of tribute to Walter. It still seems unreal, and yet when I walk to their cage to feed them every morning and to let them out every evening when I get home from work, I now only find Jack, huddled in the corner looking just as sad and confused as I am.

I came home from work on Wednesday of last week and found Walter lying in the cage. He was dead. It was totally unexpected, and it broke my heart. I know he was just a rabbit, but if you know me, you know that I love my bunnies like children, so it was really painful to say goodbye. Thankfully, I have some amazing friends who came over to help me bury him. We reminisced about our memories of him for a while and then took him out back, dug a hole by the tomato plants, and placed him in it. I covered his body with dirt and cried. You know you have great friends when they cry with you. You also know you have great friends when they bring over beer for the occasion. We ended the evening with a few drinks, some laughter, and a few more tears. 

I got the pair (names after Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau) back in October and have thoroughly enjoyed  their company. Here are a few picture highlights of my time with Walter.

This was taken the first night I got them. They were both pretty timid, although Walter's always been the braver of the pair. They were brothers, and they loved hanging out together.

This is one of my favorite pictures of Walter. What a handsome young man!

One of my favorite memories about Walter is that he loved to jump on top of his cage. Sometimes when I would leave the top of their cage open, he would jump out and run around. Jack could never do it, because he was always smaller.

Walter would generally jump on top of the cage while I was cleaning it out. I guess that was his contribution. 

Jack and Walter had a play day in the leaves. They loved it!

So cute.

Look at those ears!

Around Christmas time, I bought miniature apples for decoration. Walter decided they'd be better as food than ornaments.

In his short life, Walter got to experience a number of road trips. I took the bunnies home to Michigan for Thanksgiving last year.

The last road trip was for Easter. Jack and Walter were great companions.

I let them run around the yard. They loved it.

I love this pose.

This picture perfectly captures our relationship. I love that Walter is sticking his tongue out. He made a habit of being defiant.

Just as all good things must come to an end, so my time with Walter is done. Looks like it's just Jack and me now. I suspect that we'll make a grand pair!

God is Bigger than the Bullshit Part 2

Have you ever had one of those days where most things in life seemed to be falling apart? I've been having one of those months. Yesterday, I wrote about the fact that despite all of the crap that we experience, God is in control and will bring us through it. I'm feeling less sure of that today. Every time I feel like my heart is healing or I'm trusting a little bit more, I get shoved to the ground again. It's seriously getting ridiculous. I know that God promises not to give us more than we can handle, but I feel like I can't handle it anymore. It's not as if the things that are happening to me aren't normal, but it's the way they're happening and the timing that are pushing me to my limit. Am I being punished for something? Is God testing my faith? Or are these all just random coincidences that happen to shake me to my core? I don't know, but I'm getting tired of it.

The book of Job seems to be the story of my life these days (or at least today). "If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales! It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas- no wonder my words have been impetuous (hence the 'bullshit'). The arrows of the Almighty are in me, my spirit drinks in their poison; God's terrors are marshaled against me... What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient? Do I have the strength of stone (thanks to boot camp, I'm getting close)? Is my flesh bronze (perhaps after a few more hours in the sun)? Do I have the power to help myself, now that success has been driven from me (I've got no strength left)?"

And yet: "He wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal." When does that happen? Can we get that healing process going soon?

God is Bigger than the Bullshit

Some days, that's about as profound as my theology goes. Today is one of those days. I feel as though I'm being sucker punched from every direction. It hurts. I'm bruised and broken and am having a hard time catching my breath. I'm trying to make sense of it all, and yet sense is nowhere to be found. So I find myself clinging to faith.

Even when things appear to be falling apart before my eyes-when life seems to throw curve ball after curve ball-I have to remember this truth. God is bigger than all of it. He's bigger than my job. He's bigger than relationships. He's bigger than location. He's bigger than fears, uncertainties, and confusion. And He's bigger than pain. As long as I can maintain that perspective and remember God's place in the hierarchy of my life, I think I'll be ok.

A friend recently sent me these words of encouragement: "He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together." Even the bullshit. He's got that under control too.