She scuttled straight at me, claws up, ready to take me on. I know, hopefully you see the irony of this, but listen in for just a second. I don’t know if her brain was telling her to be afraid or not, but as I watched her she taught me a very important lesson. She taught me to “Disobey my Fear!”
Sometimes God Even Provides Unicorn Cereal!
Over and over I am nudged by the Holy Spirit towards certain activities to be His hands and feet in this world. I feel the nudge and sometimes I hear the whisper but I am a girl that likes clarity. Anyone else like me? I want to know the “plan” before I start moving toward what He is asking. When I don’t know His “plan” or have one of my own, fear sets in. Sometimes it’s fear of looking stupid. Other times, it’s fear of failure or not being able to clearly articulate the hows and whys of what He is asking of me.
Currently, I have two thoughts around this.
Copy of Round Up, Weed and Feed, or Fertilizer? Which one are you?
For those of you I haven’t met yet, one thing you should know about me is that unfortunately, I have a strong sense of “justice” when it comes to certain topics that are close to my heart. I’ve been told I have some “Peterish” qualities. Often, quick as a staccato note, my brain thinks things it should probably not think. It wants to be the judge of what others are doing and saying. It wants to use “Round Up” on them and kill them off. Anyone else like this?
Want to be Blessed?
Basking in the glorious late Spring sun, streaming through the east window, I am snuggled into my purple overstuffed chair. Allowing my eyes to slid shut, I whisper of my thoughts about the coming summer. Running out of words, silence falls between me and my maker. Then He breathes these words into my mind, “Feed the children.” Knowing my propensity to overanalyze these things, I pick up my phone and create a post inviting others to join me.
Sometimes we think we have to go far away or do something new or huge to be His hands and feet to this world.
She Called My Name!
Being swept along in a cornucopia of female humanity, I swam to the outside of the pack and located the room for my meeting with the editor. With the clarity of a bullhorn, I hear my real name being called out. Feeling like I just was just “Called Out” and in trouble, everything slows and I feel a panic crawling it’s way up my insides. Pausing, my eyes lock with the owner of the voice as she gently places one hand on each of my arms and steers me over to the wall. Overwhelming feelings surge from somewhere deep inside of me. Like a pendulum, they swing from shear panic to curiosity. Who is this lady? How does she know my name? Frozen and speechless, she exclaims, “I’ve been looking all over for you! Your name is Crystal, correct?
Maybe I was Wrong?
Extending her pudgy nut brown hand full of her recess-collected, canary yellow bouquet, she giggles exclaiming, “I picked these for you!” Promptly an older, more “knowledgeable” students, saunters over and snears,“ Dandelions are not flowers!” She protests; insisting that they are. Hugging her, my heart is full. Not because these are what I would consider beautiful, but because the heart behind this is pure and loving. She saw something she deemed beautiful and wanted to share it.
Sauntering away, my squirrelish mind zips around, latching onto some simple and yet troubling question
Life in the Rearview Mirror
Before my first encounter with this beautiful Romanian soul, I had not known much about Romania or the beautiful people who reside there. In my Creator’s infinite wisdom, He intersected our paths years ago and established a deep friendship. Often over the years, I have wondered how she was and what she was doing. Oddly, it seems that at some crucial moments throughout these last twenty plus years, God has randomly intercepted our paths again. Each time we have bumped into each other and quickly caught up, only to have time and space pull us apart again. Two weeks ago,
Simple Gestures Matter
Slipping out of my professional armour, I pull on my comfortable yoga pants, loosely layered, soft tops and a puffy black coat that some poor duck gave it’s feathers for. Slipping my feet into the neon running shoes, I head out into the blackness to wash my soul of the mind numbing busyness that I so easily slip into. There is just something about frigid temperatures; clear black nights; and crunchy ground that clears my soul.
Cup-O-Noodles, My Foreign Tongue, and Invisible Prisons
Lightly browned, white skin; sun-kissed blonde hair; and a foreign tongue, left me highly visible as I strolled down the aisle of India Air flight 627. Completely out of my comfort zone and fully awake. All my senses were on high alert.
It's Not About Size!
I come from a place of tall evergreens; large maples; and lush green forests. The place my heart calls home for nine months of the year is flanked with two majestic mountain ranges and surrounded by a salty abundance of blue water. Outdoorsy humans move to this place with daily opportunities to savor the deep colors; fragrant aromas; and stunning natural beauty. If you take a few moments and chat with the locals, they will be quick to tell you that it is not a place you land accidentally. It is a place you choose.
Stuck? What's in Your Hands?
Gently sliding out of my 1000 count Egyptian Cotton sheets, I wrestle my well-developed legs into my favorite pair of yoga pants. Quickly finishing dressing, I grab my ipad and head out the door to get some writing done before the world awakens.
I adore early Saturday mornings when the world is bathed in mist and the sun is still a promise. It is my favorite day of the week! I reserve the morning portion entirely for me and my Creator to get some writing done and the afternoon for whatever relaxing activity I bump into. I always wear my favorite yoga pants and fluorescent pink Nike tennis shoes with no socks. My top attire varies according to activity and mood. As a high-functioning Asperger adult, texture is EVERYTHING, and Saturdays I get to wear all my favorites even if they don’t need to match.
This Saturday is no different. Landing at a corner table, I set up shop and start to write. Instantly, I am distracted by a shuffling human, slowly making its way toward the coffee shop. It is frigid outside and this human looks like it might not make it to this warm environment. Returning to my task at hand, I try to ignore the niggling whisper. This human is now at the door, just about two feet from me. I look up and our eyes meet. He is just standing there.
Snowmageddon Lesson
With the effort of an elephant trudging through knee high mud combined with the determination of an Olympic athlete, I don my winter gear and step out into a once-in-a-lifetime ,Pacific Northwest Snowmageddon! I have set my goal at walking seven miles a day and I will not be detoured by twenty plus inches of snow.
Completing a few laps, the numbness has overtaken any rational reasoning and my mind is aimlessly drifting towards thoughts of warm beaches, sandy, azura blue waters and swimming with my sea creature friends.
Road Turtles and Rumble Strips
Sheer exhaustion wrapped its long arms around me. Eyelids, as heavy and a weighted fishing line, kept trying to descend for a much needed nap. Every fiber of my being just wanted to go to sleep. Opening the windows of my little black car, fresh air pummeled my face, trying to get me to pull over. My brain kept reminding me that I was ONLY a mile from my own welcoming bed. Just a mile. Just one little mile. My conscious was screaming, “Just pull over! Just pull over and sleep for a few minutes.” Encountering the rumble strips, momentarily jolted my weighted eyelids to full attention. Seeing a large parking lot, I had a miniscule conscious thought, once again, that I should pull over but I just kept going. Next, the road turtles rattled my car, and like a zombie, I mildly corrected. Now only a half mile from home, the weighted fishing line felt like someone had just added about 20 pounds and I no longer could resist. Allowing my eyes to close, I did not make the 90 degree turn that the road had. Adrenalin exploded
If You Really Knew.....
f you really knew the darkness that tries to creep up, like a unexpected predator and swallow me, you would probably realize how human I am. If you really knew the effort that my enemy exerts in order to silence me, you would be surprised. If you really knew how black the darkness was in my moments of struggle, you might think differently of me. But here is what I suspect - you do know exactly what I am talking about because you struggle too.
Wild and Crazy Thoughts on Parable of the Talents
Like a 13-year-old adolescent girl, I scan the Facebook feed stopping to pursue delicious looking new recipes; family snow day or vacation photos; rants about any number of things; and my favorite writer’s blog posts. Most of these people are personal friends. I honestly care about their lives and want to be able to stay caught up. Startled by my phone buzzing, I realize that I have just lost ninety minutes of writing time. WHAT was I thinking? I know how this game works and yet, I took the bait and dropped into the land of Facebook. It’s just one click away from where I write in Squarespace. Hum…
Unexpected Enticing Fragrance
Entering from a silent white world, the warmth of home wraps itself around me. Instantly I am in a race with my internal thermometer to remove all the excess clothing that was necessary for a walk on this stunningly beautiful snowflake decorated evening. Successfully disrobed down to a thin layer, I shuffle through the kitchen. Stopping midway I am overtaken by a tantalizing fragrance.
Meet a Six-Year-Old World Changer!
Arriving at school, she bounds out of the car, like a desperate squirrel looking for a nut, and pauses only long enough to locate it. Galloping towards me, she wraps her tiny arms around my fluffy girth. Pulling back, there is always a pregnant pause, her eyes lock on mine and with the intensity of a lawyer, she asks, “What fabulous ting are YOU wearing today?”
You Want Me to Do What? The Power of Molting!
Crashing waves from the Pacific call to me, beckoning me to come and play in it’s frothy waters. The beach has always been the place I run to. It’s the place I feel most at home. It’s the place where my heart is refreshed and my thoughts can slow down and be processed.
Strolling along, my fingers find comfort being woven in between his. The sound of his voice is lost somewhere between his lips and my ears. The roar of the waves caries his words off to a distant place. Rounding the corner, I feel like I’ve suddenly stepped into Auschwitz and there are no survivors.
Boobs, Butt, Lips, and Every Other Piece!
Eyes fixated on the photo, my mind races back to the event. Sixteen and well-proportioned. Ready to attend a party. My adult mind wonders what in the world I was thinking leaving the house dressed like a bunny. Sunlight dances through the studio windows as I crouch on the area rug savoring each of the photos. They each show a different moment of my childhood. Sweet silence fills this room, my sanctuary, my safe place. My mind is filled with a rapid succession of funny memories about that night. (Just for the record, I was asked to leave the school party.)
Saboteur + A Smile = Refreshed Heart
Genetics had gifted her with a smile that could electrify the room. I had personally seen the atmosphere of a room alter when she arrived with that genuine smile. Her eyes were part of the deal. She could make you feel seen across a room full of people. It was a gift that she used daily in our workplace.