Street Signs

I live in a city that has evolved over time. When I moved here, the GPS technology I now rely on was still very new and quite expensive, so I learned to navigate the city the old fashioned way - with a map. Each time I ventured out to find a new location, I would carefully study the map, eventually learning my way around the labyrinth of the city streets. I loved discovering new routes and I especially enjoyed finding unusually named streets. One of my favorite discoveries was Notblake Drive. Why? I once worked for a home builder and when the company was working to develop a new area of the city for housing. One day the developer brought the plat maps into the office which included all the proposed street names. Curious as I read the street names and saw the likes of Jennie Lane and Davis Drive, I asked the developer where the names had come from. He told me they were the names of his grandchildren and informed me that the land developer got to choose the names of the streets. Notblake Drive always makes me laugh and wonder what poor Blake ever did to the developer of that particular neighborhood!

Just recently I discovered a new street name that gave me pause, perhaps because it wasn't the street sign that caught my eye first. There was a short, unpaved dirt road leading to two small houses. They were very humble in construction, in size and amenities. Only one had a small, very well used vehicle parked out front. There was not much to speak of as far as landscaping and there were certainly no boats, four wheelers, or other "toys" parked out front. After seeing the homes, desolate and isolated by worldly standards, I saw the name of the street. Truly Blessed Drive. I wondered about the people who lived in those homes. The buildings looked like they had been there for ages and I wondered if the residents themselves had developed that rudimentary street and been the ones to decide what to name it. I wondered about what was truly important to them. It was fairly obvious that their material possessions didn't create their happiness or their definition of being blessed. I wondered about their families, what they had been through together. I wondered how many times a day they counted their blessings, recognized the beauties that surrounded them, hugged their children, told someone they loved them and helped another person. I was certain that what happened inside those homes was a far greater indicator of their definition of blessed than what was seen on the outside.

I thought about another neighborhood I had seen recently in a coastal resort town, filled with luxurious homes, swimming pools, tennis courts and gated entrances. It had street names like Magnolia Drive and Emerald Parkway and was littered with foreclosure and short sale signs. I wondered if the people who had lived in or purchased those homes, some now shackled with burdensome debt they could no longer carry, felt truly blessed. I wondered if their homes were filled with gratitude and wonder at all the glories and beauties that still surrounded them or if all they could think about was what they were losing.

I wonder if the state of our happiness actually depends upon our willingness to choose our perspective and very little to do with income, zip code, or balance sheets. Perhaps as external economic conditions force us to cut back, downsize or relocate, we can remember what it takes to feel truly blessed. Eyes to see, ears to hear, hands to help, mouths to speak kindness, and perhaps even a well placed street sign.

Of Weeds

I was weeding my flower bed the other day. It was a sunny, quiet morning and it was just me and the weeds that had grown up over the winter and were threatening my newly resurrected dianthus and daylilies. I had been dreading this impending chore, knowing some of the roots were deep, some of the weeds had been ignored and grown larger than I'd cared to admit, and it's just a yucky, tiresome chore. But as the morning progressed, I noticed something. The soil was soft and forgiving. The weeds came out fairly easily. What should have taken all morning, was accomplished with minimal effort in a couple of hours. It had rained the day before.

I wondered about the weeds in my life. Ones with deep roots. Ones that had grown comfortably over time. Ones that didn't seem significant at the time so had grown slowly, but certainly, over time. Ones I simply hadn't wanted to tackle, knowing the effort it would take.

Often we wonder why it rains. Maybe God simply knows we have some weeding to do.

Motivation

I was recently invited to become a permablogger on an exciting new blog (details forthcoming soon). In some communication with the other writers, I was asked to share a short biographical sketch of myself. Most of the other writers were complete strangers to me and here I was being asked to condense my life into two short paragraphs that would capture the essence of me.

I found myself in a quandary. What information was pertinent? What information would be superfluous? Which life experiences from the last 30 some odd years should I share? It felt much more important than a simple "25 Random Things" list on my Facebook page. It seemed to me an exercise beyond a mere resume or listing of job qualifications. I had already been invited to participate, so what aspects of my life would I choose to define myself as a person? Who am I? Really?

I've heard the expression 'wearing many hats' before, but as an actress I like to think of my life in terms of the roles I play. Maybe it seems a bit more dramatic and exciting that way, especially on the days when the roles merely change from laundress to housekeeper to cook. But in acting, the portrayal of the roles are always an extension of the character's motivation. Why would that character make that choice? What drives that person to behave or interact in that certain way? So behind all the various roles we have in life there is what drives us, our character motivation.

Think about what you would say if asked to encapsulate your life for perfect strangers in a matter of a few words. Consider not only what you would say, but ask yourself the soul searching question of, "Why?"

I love the song by Julie de Azevedo entitled, "A Window to His Love." There is a line in the song that says, "I want to be a window to His love, so when you look through me you will find Him." After a lifetime of self-evaluation, perhaps I will have reached this point of purely charitable character motivation. That is my hope - to one day be motivated purely by a Christ like desire to reach out to others, to help them find Him. I hope to someday reach the point where my all roles can be driven by that true character motivation and my life can be encapsulated in three mere words. Woman of God.

Sounds Like Life to Me

Sounds Like Life To Me (Darryl Worley)

Video Code provided by MusicRemedy.Com

Today I was running errands. One of my stops was to fill up my van with gas. When I was young I swore I would never drive a minivan. It seemed like the ultimate in giving into suburban, Mommy life and I didn't want to ever admit that about myself. However, when I was pregnant with my third child and about to outgrow our current vehicle, I found myself at the Honda dealership with my husband coercing me into test driving an Odyssey van. I went kicking and screaming, but found as I drove it I liked the way it handled, I loved the flexibility of the functions and I absolutely LOVED that I could push a button from my keychain or the driver's seat and either of the side doors would open. With all of that and the fact that a nice used van was considerably less than an SUV, we purchased the van.

I've driven that van for the past five years as my babies have grown into children and young adults. I was so thrilled with its reliability, despite some dents and scratches, stained carpet and a few flat tires. I was ecstatic when we paid it off in full last month and we wouldn't have a car payment. Hondas can last forever!

So today as I was driving away from the gas pump and heard a huge crunching sound, my heart and my stomach met somewhere in the middle. I slammed on my brakes, wondering what in the world I could have possibly hit. I opened my door and saw a stationary 3 foot tall cement post placed just after the gas pump. What purpose it could possibly serve is beyond me, but it succeeded in scraping the entire driver's side of my van, smashing in one of the precious sliding doors so that it no longer functions.

I met my husband for lunch in tears. I felt so stupid for what I had done and I now had a huge symbol of stupidity wherever I drove. He was kind and caring, reassuring me that it was just an accident, no one was hurt and our insurance would take care of it.

On the drive home, I remembered the new song (link posted above) I had heard the day before - "Sounds Like Life to Me" by Darryl Worley. My favorite line is "the only thing for certain is uncertainty." It helped me realize that accidents, trials and disappointments are just a part of life. There is no such things as a perfect life without problems. Perfection in progression comes by granting ourselves the grace to make mistakes and move forward.

I also remembered a portion of the book "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch. I first saw him on an Oprah show giving his last lecture that he had presented at Carnegie Mellon where he was a professor. He had been invited to give a hypothetical last lecture of his life to his students and colleagues in a few months as part of a lecture series there. In the meantime, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He decided to give, literally, his last lecture in honor of his three young children. Following this lecture, he worked with an editor, Jeffrey Zaslow, to write words of wisdom and perspective to his children, words that have reached out and given perspective to many others.

In his book he tells the story of a day his wife backed their van out of the garage right into his car, which she didn't realize had been parked there. She was so worried about his reaction and spent the day preparing the perfect evening to soften the news. Randy reacted without anger or frustration. He had been taught that vehicles were utilitarian devices designed to get people from point A to point B, not expressions of social status. He told her that since the damage was simply cosmetic, there was no need to get them repaired. Thy still functioned properly and did what they were designed to do. So they drove dented cars. He said they became a statement in their marriage that not everything needs to be fixed. (The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch, 2008, p.85-87)

Prof. Randy Pausch passed away early in the morning on July 25, 2008, at his home in Virginia.

I'll bet his wife still drives that car.

I Wish I Had 100...

I was back in the second grade classroom yesterday and the students had a writing project. The title of the piece was "I Wish I Had 100..." . The students filled in the wish and wrote why they made that wish and what they would do with it. Many of the students wished for 100 dollars and then listed what they would buy with the money. My son wished for 100 pies. He really likes pie. Another wished for 100 of himself so he could do lots of things at once. One girl wished for the money, but wrote that she would use it to buy clothes and food for people who are poor. Made me wonder what I would wish for... 100 days on a tropical island with my family? 100 months of maid service? 100 years of a life lived well? What would you wish for?

Grace from Grief

It's amazing to me how God can make something good out of something terrible.

As I was waiting for an appointment this morning, I read a story about a young 25 year old man who was at his church when a couple began having a heated marital dispute. In the midst of trying to break up the altercation, he was shot and later died from complications resulting from the gunshot wounds. His parents, in their grief, decided to donate his organs. Because he was young and healthy, they were able to harvest and use five different organs for immediate transplant. In the bitter moments of one family's tragedy came immense joy to five other families - many awaiting certain death of their loved ones without those transplants. Several of the organ recipients attended the memorial service for the young man, overcome with both grief and gratitude. The heart recipient told of the young man's mother coming over to him and listening to his new heart - a living, breathing part of her son, now sustaining another man's life.

As I was driving home, I saw a man riding his bike down the road, full speed, an enormous smile on his face, with no legs. I'm sure he never anticipated his journey through life with no legs, but there he was training for a race nonetheless. He was making something wonderful from his tragedy and in doing so spread joy to a perfect stranger who saw his enthusiasm as he pedaled his wheelchair bike down the road with his hands.

There's nothing so terrible in life that God can't make something good come from it.

Grateful

Today, I am grateful.

I'm grateful that I am healthy enough to exercise. I have a friend who has such severe health problems that she never knows when she will be well enough to even leave the house, let alone exercise.

I'm grateful that I have the means to go grocery shopping for my family. I read in the newspaper about people lining up for hours for a free breakfast from Denny's. One woman said that after she paid her rent she only had $10 and used it to buy gas.

I'm grateful that my father is still alive and I can tell him that I love him. I have a cousin who wrote a beautiful tribute to her father to give to him on Father's Day. She didn't give it to him in time - he passed away and she used it as a tribute at his funeral. I love you, Dad.

I'm grateful that my husband is home. I have many, many friends whose husbands are serving overseas in dangerous military assignments. They worry every day about them. They are amazing examples of fortitude and faith - keeping their homes and families running alone.

I'm grateful that my children are growing and healthy. I have a friend with newborn, premature twins and was in the hospital with one all day yesterday. She is still worrying about him, unsure of his progress and condition. Her husband is gone, too.

I'm grateful that my heater works. It has been unseasonably cold where I live and I saw a man today walking the street, wrapped up as tightly as he could be against the bitter wind. I wondered if he had anywhere warm to sleep tonight.

I'm grateful that I can read. I have met two women from other countries who can neither read nor write English very well, living in America and raising families here.

I'm grateful for my sight. I have a friend who works at the Center for the Blind in my city who reminded me that if I think I'm having a hard time, I should go there. Those people understand what difficulties, and opportunities, really are.

I'm grateful that I can choose how to see, and be in the world.

Today, I am grateful.