Ever Striving

Elmer Fudd - Shhh, he's hunting wabbits 

Am I the only one who grew up thinking that you shouldn't talk about the good things God was doing through you? Like, if you did, you'd be struck down for being prideful and boastful? For my part, I'm sure it came from obsessively focusing on Matthew 6:3 and perhaps a little WASPy angst. True humility meant keeping "good deeds" vewy, vewy quiet.

Keeping it real here. I've not been good (sometimes I loathe the word "good") at maintaining a prayer life in the last few years. There's not much to pray when you don't know if you believe. Only in the past year or so have I begun to pray again with any regularity. (Totally got a system that works for me now too. Hope to share that in another post. It's ultra simple. Like preschool simple.) I say all of this to say: One prayer I have been praying is for God to show me what it means to be humble. Strip me, mold me, do what YOU need to do, because I'm convinced more than ever that joy lies in turning my eyes toward Christ.

So, I go about my life expecting to be struck down with a major infirmity or some family/financial crisis. Goodness knows I've been shown humility, whether I wanted it or not, through those very means. You want to know one of the ways I know there's a God? He answers prayer in the most elegant, jaw-dropping, genius, and ironic ways imaginable. I couldn't possibly make the stuff up. I'm not that creative.

Enter the homeless ministry at my church. I've begun working with two humble people who are compassionate, dedicated advocates of those in need. When they serve, they constantly praise God in their unique ways. They boldly ask for donations for the homeless, post pictures on Facebook of the people who are being served, and proclaim all the good that is being done in the name of God. Their spirit is infectious and all I know is that I want to jump in.

Now, how would I even know what God was doing through them if they had not been bold in telling others about it? More spiritual types might get holy telepathic waves, but I do not -- I have to read, hear, or see it. And how could I even possibly want to help them if it was all kept "quiet"? It occurred to me: You can be humble and vocal. They're not mutually exclusive. I believe my left hand knew what my right hand was doing far more when I thought I should be mute than when I promoted God's work.  I was "modest" when really what I was doing was thinking my actions merited modesty. But when I promote the God's love and His work, I don't figure in as much. The Apostle Paul and Mother Teresa knew that well.

I've begun to talk more openly about this new work with the homeless God's beloved creation. It's a little awkward, but I'm getting more used to it. I've talked about it with my running buddies, my neighbors, my friends, my social networks, etc. I'm even blogging about it. :-) Guess what? People want to make donations, ask how they can help, and say they're praying for the homeless in downtown Austin.

To God be the glory.

Perfect humility dispenses with modesty.  ~ C.S. Lewis

Grateful Mondays

5 things I'm grateful for today:

1.) My new bright pink birthday running kicks. Love. Them. 

2.) All things pumpkin.

3.) Another year of life and more time to grow. 

4.) Twitter. 

5.) The pure-hearted people I work with in the homeless ministry. (Rebecca and Steve, I'm talkin' bout you.:)) 

Did you know that the practice of gratitude makes you happier and healthier? It's by design. What are you grateful for today?

Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; His love endures forever. ~ Psalm 107:1

Grateful Mondays

5 things I'm grateful for today:

1.) Time spent with my mother and grandmother last weekend  

2.) A roof over my head when it's raining

3.) Cooler weather 

4.) Cold Topo Chico in a glass bottle 

5.) Rediscovering The Great Gatsby. Oh to write like F. Scott Fitzgerald. 

Did you know that the practice of gratitude makes you happier and healthier? It's by design. What are you grateful for today?

Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; His love endures forever. ~ Psalm 107:1

For my boy

{This post is dedicated to my son who says I never write about him on my blog.}

The day I brought you home from the hospital, I was sitting on the couch upstairs with you. I had just finished nursing you and was holding you on my knee, softly patting your back when you took every ounce of newborn energy to shake your tiny head around and look me in the eye. Two. Days. Old. It was one of the most amazing displays of human contact I have ever experienced.

A few days later, on our way home from your first appointment with your pediatrician, I told your daddy, "I have this sense that Beau is going to do something big. I don't know what it is, but I think something big is going to happen in his life." I remember exactly where we were on the road when I had the premonition, too.

When you were a few months older, I got constant, CONSTANT comments about how you were the cutest baby anyone had ever seen. Like every day. From everyone. Your big, beautiful 'marble' eyes, wide forehead, and chunky thighs were a sight to see. Even I couldn't get enough of you, and I saw you every day.

When you were two, I smelled finger nail polish wafting from the second floor of our house. I entered your room with fear and trepidation. I was expecting to find walls and furniture shellacked in L'Oreal. But, no. Instead, I found you had 10 perfectly painted fingernails and 10 perfectly painted toenails. And the cap had been screwed back on the bottle. Utterly secure in your manhood and fastidious to boot. Whataboy.

You had the funniest phrases for a preschool age boy. Like the time when a young guy peeled out in some hot rod with his windows down and radio blaring. From across the parking garage you yelled to him (with the appropriate hand expression, I might add), "Rock on, Dude!" You were four. Or the time when we went to the beach in Florida and, as you entered, you yelled, "Surf's up, Dude!" You were five. Were these expressions taught at home? For heaven's sake, no. You lived among introverts but somehow found your voice and expressed it.

In late preschool, a very tall boy called you "little" for the umpteenth time. You hauled off and threw a metal truck at his head. Your teacher took me aside and talked to me. No, I'm not advocating violence as a solution, but vigilante justice runs through your veins. If the teacher and authorities couldn't correct it, you certainly would. You're no one's victim and I admire that about you. Just don't go to jail for it, okay?

Life goes on. You continue to mature in ways that defy my imagination. You weep for injured or orphaned animals and pump your fists when the Longhorns make a touchdown. I love the way you throw your head back when you laugh heartily and that you unabashedly kiss me goodnight. I don't have gaming terminology down, but I know you've started a group that promotes Christ on one of your online games, and you have no problem telling people there what you believe. You are all boy and all heart.

Now you're beginning 7th grade. With great concern, you tell me about the kids who had no one to sit by at lunch. You report about your first day at public school and tell me about the boys whom you worry might be bullies. Your solution? Make a point to talk to them and make them your friends. Lo' and behold, one of them is 'awesome'.

One of the perks of having one boy is that I can guiltlessly tell you you're my favorite son.  But if I had 1,000 sons, I would secretly whisper in your ear to tell you, "You're my favorite son." You think I'm just saying that.

I'm not worried about you, but don't let my lack of worry be a sign that I love you less. I gawk at your sensitive, manly, go-for-it maturity. You are all that I've hoped for and more, despite my failings. You are my beloved son, in whom I am absolutely, positively, more than pleased.

Hear y'all him.



Parents are not interested in justice. They're interested in peace and quiet.  ~Bill Cosby

Grateful Mondays

(Source)

5 things I'm grateful for today:

1.) School supplies to buy  

2.) Open Houses to attend

3.) Lunches to make

4.) Laundry to do

5.) That my kids are still at home with me. There'll be a time when I will greatly miss their presence.  

Did you know that the practice of gratitude makes you happier and healthier? It's by design. What are you grateful for today?

Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; His love endures forever. ~ Psalm 107:1

The summer I learned to swim

Y'all. I hesitate to say it, but I think I've learned to swim. No breaststroke, butterfly craziness... just freestyle with the occasional backstroke I'mma-gonna-save-my-life and breathe stuff.

Last April, I looked like this.

Yeah, that was me, in one my earliest attempts to put my head in the water and swim to end of the pool.  I had no reference for how long it took to get to the edge of the pool with fins, and this is what happened. Concrete edge of pool, meet Jennifer. Jennifer, meet concrete edge of pool. Now, let's avoid each other like orange juice with toothpaste, 'k?

My first and only swim lessons took place when I was five. Apart from that, I did NOT live in pools, swim in lakes, frolic in the ocean; and I certainly did not swim on a team. I dipped in some random pool as some teenage social situations necessitated, and I got out. I was never really comfortable in water.

Most of my phobias can be linked to one thread -- claustrophobia. I need to breathe, metaphorically and physically. I don't like covers on my head, being in a small doctor's room with the door shut, or wearing restrictive clothing. I've seen maybe 5 episodes of this television series, but this scene with Carrie in Sex in the City resonates with me a lot. Crazy, crazy head games go on when I feel like I can't breathe. I don't know the root of this phobia, but I do try to over-ride my emotions with my brain. Sometimes it works.

I can get to one end of Barton Springs now, without having to stop. Major change. Can I tell you what a difference five months make? A few months ago, I couldn't go 10 meters without holding on to the side for dear life and breathing like my life was in jeopardy. It honestly felt like it was. I still take what seems like an hour to acclimate to Barton Springs, finally dip my head in its waters, and scope out the journey ahead. And then I go. Ever better, ever onwards. Next week, I hope to go down and back without stopping. 400 bloomin' meters in deep, cold, open water. Hope springs eternal.

I feel like I know God has used my physical journey as a metaphor to teach me about my spiritual journey. I'm thinking He's not picky; He uses any way to get to me. I'd do the same with my kids. The physical is a method used often in the Bible, and there's nothing new there. That he'd use the exercise to reach my previously un-athletic self is the ding-dang absurd thing.

Clearly, irony is one of God's preferred methods. I like that.

I am 42 years old and reporting that I've learned to swim. I feel like Sarah who had Isaac when she was around 90. Okay, maybe it's not B.C. worthy. But if the Bible were written in 2012, I just might have made the cut. :-)

Just keep swimming.  ~Dory from Finding Nemo

Doing Good Tuesdays: Aaron's Last Wish

Oh my stars. I came across the story about Aaron Collins somewhere on my homepage yesterday. He died suddenly a few weeks ago and left behind a will that asked that his family go out for pizza and give the server an 'awesome' tip - as in a $500.00 tip. After his death, his family asked for donations so they could carry out Aaron's last wish. They got the $500.00 and a lot more. The donations keep coming in, and because people have been so touched by the story, Aaron's family has raised over $58,000 (and counting). That's 117 servers. 

The 5th server the family has gotten to bless is featured in the video above. I love seeing the servers' faces in all the videos as they realize what they've been given. The family and the server above were featured in last Tuesday's Today show. The family has also been featured on NPR, CBS This Morning, etc., etc.

The really, really cool part is how much Aaron's wish has caught on. A cab driver was recently given $500.00 extra in 'Aaron's memory'. Restaurants are seeing an uptick in this lavish tip giving. And a 13 year old boy wrote to Aaron's Wish and donated $10.00 of his own. 

How fun is it to bless other people unexpectedly?! If you'd like to donate to Aaron's Wish and be a part of something bigger than ourselves, click here. If that's not possible, Aaron's brother, Seth, writes:

If you can’t donate then please give a generous tip on your own.  Tell the waiter or waitress why, or don’t.  He would still be happy that you had done it.  Give them this website address if you’d like, or write it on the check, so they know they received the gift because of my brother.

That's sweet right there.

I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now; let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.  ~Stephen Grellet, Quaker missionary