All in Christian Growth
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!”
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?
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?
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.
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.
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.
No Casket. No Funeral. No Body.
“There wasn’t a casket. There wasn’t a funeral. There wasn’t even a body. No obituary was ever penned. No one sent sympathy cards. No one stopped by to check in. No one brought food by my home. In fact, it felt like no one even noticed that she had died, except me. I don’t have an exact date, but I do know that she is gone and in her place is someone that I don’t know….
Copy of No Exemption - Psalms 46:1
My hands were shaking like tremors in an L.A. aftershock and my breathing seemed to be limited to small gulps of air as I sat on the medical exam table listening to the doctor. I was here for a regular exam, but also to ask for a written letter of exemption that would excuse me from the active shooter drill. Everything inside of me wished I was not making this request, but my heart knew it was the only viable option considering what I had survived. PTSD was not something I thought I would ever have to deal with, but here I sat about to make this request.
Do this Third
See this lady? (The one on the right.) She has called out things in my life that are both gifts and things that needed to change. She has spoke life into me. She has allowed me to interrupt her life with my struggles. She has taught me to pray and believe. She has walked me into the inner sanctuary of His presence and stood nearby as He healed my heart. She wakes up and often prays for me, before I have the courage to ask for prayer. She has been a gift and blessing to me! She has also spoken to my pride issues. She is a warrior disguised as an everyday woman. I pray you have one of these kind of warriors in your life. She has taught me that this third piece is vital to not just “surviving” but being able to walk through pain, suffering, and disappointment.
Do This Second! - Zephaniah 3:17
We are in this mini series called, “No Exemptions”. If you missed the first and second post, jump on back and give it a quick read. Today, I want to share what I do second. To set the stage, here is an excerpt from my journal in October (Can I warn you, It’s not pretty): Sunday, October 28, 2018 6:33 pm
I should not put these thoughts to words. I should not put these words on my iPad. BUT, I have no more space to stuff them and them are spilling out.
I can’t breathe. No, really….I am suffocating. It’s been slowly coming this Fall, but today something snapped. I don’t really know what the last straw was. Maybe it was coming around the corner at Costco and seeing the Precious’ One’s first husband lovingly helping his son? Or, maybe it was the volatile poisonous verbal barrage I endured from a mentally ill loved one? It doesn’t matter, the pieces of tape that were so carefully holding all the pieces of my reality together, dissolved.
Do this First! - Psalms 63:7
It truly doesn’t matter what your voice sounds like! This is the truth - your song to Him will change the atmosphere! Think about the story of Paul and Silas. They sang while imprisoned. It certainly had an impact. (You can read about it in Acts 16:25-34.) I wish I could hear them.
No Exemption - Psalms 46:1
My hands were shaking like tremors in an L.A. aftershock and my breathing seemed to be limited to small gulps of air as I sat on the medical exam table listening to the doctor. I was here for a regular exam, but also to ask for a written letter of exemption that would excuse me from the active shooter drill. Everything inside of me wished I was not making this request, but my heart knew it was the only viable option considering what I had survived. PTSD was not something I thought I would ever have to deal with, but here I sat about to make this request.
Use Your Voice! - Psalm 5:3
Warm sun streaked through the window, like a long-awaited embrace by a friend, it wrapped itself around my jet-lagged body, and wouldn’t let go. That is when I hear it. Her soft, sweet two-year-old voice drifted into my ears. She was making her request known to her Daddy.