Thursday, September 30, 2010

Careers & Children

Interesting article. I think a woman needs to carefully consider her career and potential employer if she sees children in her future. Not all employers are flexible and some careers require considerable hours. Having a career and children is possible but it requires creativity and sometimes a career shift.

For me, I'd love to be able to take some time away from my career and raise children. I've learned that life is about making a choice and dealing with the sacrifice. Some can put their 6 month old into daycare while others can't. For one, leaving a career is a lesser sacrifice than leaving a child in daycare. For the other it's the opposite. Some of us have to work. I long for the day when I can focus on my family for a season. I plan to return to work but hopefully not while my children are very young. Hence I'm laying the groundwork by creating a career that gives me a broad range of skills and the flexibility to do something part time. I want to enjoy my children rather than multi-task throughout the day. Of course, each to her own!

The Shadows of Our Past

So I've begun the memoir about my mother. The funny thing is I absolutely can't write it in her voice and as I write, I'm unearthing truths about myself. I'm excavating my memories, searching for her story. Her story is almost too tragic and too personal to tell. It's a story she opted not to share with the world at large. Meanwhile, my story is one filled with the happiness she created for me.

It's weird, the story I'm telling is about my future. As I write my potential future is unwrapping. My future and my past are sewn together by rich memories created from my mother's bond to me. It's as though her story continues into mine. Her legacy is becoming mine. She was striving for the life she wanted. While I don't think she got all of it, I think her daughter's life will complete her dream. The memories of our past are shadows that follow us into our future. The dreams and prayers of a mother are coming to fruition in the daughter. It's as though God is creating a quilt. He's stitching her piece of the quilt to mine and together we're forming something - perhaps a piece of Him? Not sure.

The Fourth Date

It had been over 4 years since her mother's death. The pale pink walls of the dining room had been painted over with a deep taupe paint. The English chintz love seat set in the living room were replaced with a green sofa and love seat. The Morris chair; reupholstered in a modern check print. She stood inside the dining room and peered into the living room. In 4 long years her life had completely changed. Her father had promptly replaced not only their home decor but also began dating a new woman within months of her mother's death. Very little of her mother resided out in the open.

Her heart pattered a bit as she went into the kitchen. She had just finished frying the breaded eggplant that would be the basis of her famed eggplant parmigiana. She'd only made the dish several times since her mother's death. The cat,  placidly sitting in her window seat, peered outside. She desperately wanted her mother to be there to talk to. She had so many questions about love, pleasing a man and growing up. Instead of the questions, she focused on preparing the salad. He'll be here soon and everything needs to be perfect. I hope he's not early but then again, I hope he's not late. I hate waiting. The waiting makes my nerves worse.

The back doorbell rang. She jumped before throwing off the apron and scurrying to the door. He stood with the screen door open as he waited for her to unlock the door. In his right hand were a dozen pale pink roses.

"These are for the, what I hope will be, the happy hostess." he said happily as he entered the back entrance.

She wanted to run into his arms and tell him how much she had missed him. She refrained instead.

"Thank you! Gosh they are such a light and pale shade of pink that they're almost white!" she radiated as she took them from his hands and quickly headed to the kitchen. She talked as she quickly grabbed a vase, filled it with water and plunked them into water.

He smirked as he watched her. Tessa was an extremely social creature. He wasn't a sensitive man and therefore wasn't hurt by her lack of appreciation for the flowers. He knew what she wanted was to talk to him and present a perfect meal.

"I'm told by many of your friends that I'm in for quite a treat." he openly praised. He leaned against the door frame of the kitchen while she tore the washed lettuce into very small bites of food.

"Well...perhaps they over sell me? I do absolutely adore cooking but I'm not sure if it'll be a treat...yet." she didn't look up but continued to prepare the salad. He wanted to laugh at her intensity. She was a perfectionist.

"I take it you enjoy making the lettuce pieces as small as possible?" he easily asked.

She frowned. "Well I actually hate making salad. Such a pain in the neck. Nevertheless it drives me nuts to have these huge hunks of lettuce in my salad. I feel like one shouldn't need a knife when eating a salad."

He only nodded. What was there to say? "Well you certainly are particular."

She looked up with concern. "Oh I'm so sorry. I'm so opinionated on the stupidest of things. Do you prefer your salad in larger pieces?"

He looked started. "Oh I'm merely making an observation. I could never be bothered making the pieces so small. I'll eat it, however you make it."

About a 1/2 hour later they were seated in the dining room. He sat across from her. She wondered what he was thinking. He was such a catch and so good looking. His dark hair gently bent up a bit in different sections and was a stark contrast to his blue eyes. In the candle light his eyes danced with amusement. Matthew was a man who seemed constantly amused.

He was toying at the floral patterned silverware.

"I set the table with my mother's china. This pattern was actually featured in Martha Stewart a while back. My mother was so proud. She picked up this set little by little at flee markets in the 70s." she wondered if she'd said too much. Did she sound like she was boasting?

He took the a bite, chewed then grinned. "Oh wow! No your friends weren't wrong. You're a fabulous cook. This has got to be the best eggplant I've ever eaten. No wonder your father begs you too cook. I would too!"

She smiled, "Well I'm glad it's ok. I always worry that the food won't come out the same when cooking for new people."

"It came out the same. But...this pattern is quite nice. You don't see red dishes every day. Your mother had great taste. Did she choose the wall color as well? It doesn't seem to quite go with the dishes." he said as he continued to eat.

She played with her food before speaking. He tried to catch her eyes but she was staring straight into the plate of uneaten food.

"I'm sorry if I said something to upset you. It wasn't my intent. Sometimes I say things without thinking."

She looked up. "Oh no! It's completely fine. My father redecorated shortly after my mother died. The walls used to be a pale shade of pink. They were the shade of the roses you brought me actually. The woman he's now dating felt uncomfortable with another woman's decor so he changed it." She didn't want to say anything more. The evening wasn't going as she had planned. It was only their fourth date and she wanted them to have an evening of laughter and not one of her groaning on the past. She wanted to change the subject.

He intently held her gaze before looking away. He seemed grieved but didn't immediately say something. He took a sip of water and continued to eat. It felt like hours had passed.

"That must've been quite hard, having someone paint over the memories you had of your mother." he said quietly. "Of course, I don't mean any disrespect to your father or the woman he's dating but it must've been hard for you?"

"It was." she stated simply. She didn't want to have a heart to heart with Matthew. She had turned so many men off by her just being herself. She wanted to be a light hearted fun person that he'd fall wildly in love with and not someone who he'd feel sorry for.

"What was your mother like?"

She breathed in to steady her voice. She wished she didn't have to talk of her. It wasn't that she didn't want to, it was that speaking of her almost always brought her to tears.

He stopped eating and looked at her.

"She's so hard to describe in a few sentences. My mother is the person who taught me what love is. She allowed me to love her the way I wanted to. Our love was like a rope that knotted our souls together. We just loved each other. We spoke 3 times a day even though we lived together and spent a lot of time talking about everything from motherhood, being a daughter and other stuff. She was my best friend, mother and spiritual mentor. How can I describe her? The words about her would fill an ocean." tears began to well up in her grey eyes.

He nodded. "You have a way with words...so in what ways did you love her?"

She looked at him blankly.

"You said she allowed you to love her in the way you wanted to. How did you love her? In what ways?" he tilted his head to one side and looked at her.

She looked up toward the ceiling and prayed to die. This was so not how she intended to show him a good time. Can't I just change the subject? Why'd I go and mention my mother? Dad said men will leave if I'm always sad and crying. Besides, I have a happy life. I'm not sad all the time. This is just a sad subject!

"Well, I'd leave my mother little notes written in the voice our family house cat. They'd be cute little things like 'I love to bite your ankles at the steps each morning. In fact, that gives me such delight'. Or I'd make up little songs about the cat or something that made us both laugh. Once she sent me a letter in college. It was written in the voice of our cat about how much the cat, or should I say "she" missed me. I really wish I had saved it. It was brilliant." she laughed as she began to tell about her mother.

"Wow, she sounds really neat. Tell me more..." he stated enthused.

"I think the thing I remember most of my mother was her imagination. I definitely have that from her. She was a master at play. Have you ever seen the movie 'Finding Neverland'?"

He shook his head no. She continued. "Well, my mother was that character. 'Finding Neverland' is about the playwright he wrote the play 'Peter Pan'. Well my mother was like John Barry. She created a world filled with scorelines. Every other day we'd play with my Barbie dream house. Only this wasn't any ordinary Barbie dream house. This was a rate G soap opera where each Barbie was a character. The storyline developed with each play time. On the 'off' days we played with my American Girl dolls. They had a Victorian story line complete with Samantha, the main character, Bonnie, a southern belle and the negro maid. I would charge up the driveway after school, shove my backpack into the coat closet, gobble down my afternoon snack and beg my mother to play with me. That daily hour was the highlight of my life." She was beaming. Her grey eyes danced with excitement as she wistfully looked past him and into the memories of her past. While the pale pink walls were coated over with taupe, at that moment she was back in time. The memories of her past flickered through her memory as the flames on the present table skipped before them.

"She sounds almost as remarkable as you." he said gently.

"Oh no, I could never be as phenomenal as her. Even the memory of her takes my breath away." she smiled. "But I'm sorry to talk so much of this. I really want to know and hear all about you."

He gazed at her. "What is there to tell and how would I tell it? Apparently you're a master storyteller about to weave some one's heart around your own memories. I'm left with only wanting to know more."

Taking Risks

I ought to be finishing up my chores before work. The rain is pelting the asphalt outside at a speed comparible to the rain falling while Noah was in his ark. Yet I must write because I'm taking a risk and just read an article on risks. Here's a couple key points on risks.
  • Find cheap ways to fail
  • If taking a risk, take it by doing something you enjoy
  • Be sure your risk is in line with God's word
In less than two weeks I board a plane alone and head to Charleston. I've wanted to head there since 2003. As a single woman with all married friends, I decided to take the trip solo instead of waiting for someone to join me. For me it was a risk. Sometimes I wish I wasn't going and other times I just can't wait to head there and be on my own. 

As I plan this trip for myself and contemplate the still unknown outcome, I can't help but be filled with a little bit of dread and whole lot of excitement. For me just booking the ticket was a major step in embracing my singleness.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Love, Love, LOVE

I thought of you today as I lay on my bed musing over love and the lack thereof. I was thinking of the "love" some of my friends have in the men they've married. Funny thing though, they seem to all lack what you and I had. Our love roped around and around our hearts. It was so intimate. It gave to each of us constantly and I don't even think it was from us. I think God gave it to us. It was a gift that each of us nurtured in the other.

You allowed me to love you in the ways that I love. You always accepted my forms of love without complaint. If you needed more from me you never stated so. Your love blanketed me at night, soothed me in distress and pleased me constantly.

I miss you dear friend, dear saint, dear mother. My thoughts go continually towards our past. As I ponder the present I can't help but realize that you aren't in it. Yet you are forever in my heart. Your love for Christ lives on in me eternally. The future seems bright because I know that He is preparing more love for me.

Lord, will you tell her I miss her? Will you tell her that I still love her? Will you tell her that I'm moving on with my life? Will you tell her you're working on finding me love?

But Lord, one more thing - thank you for showing me love in the form of her. I doubt many have been so blessed as to experience a love like ours. What a good thing you gave me. I'm very thankful for it.

Monday, September 27, 2010

He will not leave you undone.

She stood inside the tiny chapel as torrents of rain pattered against the concrete steps. The door had been swung wide to make room for her umbrella. The sanctuary was small with dark oak seats and no pillow cushions. In the back of the room stood the small square alter, centered in the room. A baby grand piano was catty cornered to one side. The pastor sat up front, stooped over his Bible. Other than the pelting rain outside the room was quiet. He didn't look back as she pulled the heavy church door shut.

Her hurt was filled with anguish. She wanted to crawl to the alter and plead with Jesus to save her from the loneliness and despair she was feeling. She came to the alter without acknowledging her beloved pastor and began to weep.

"Tessa?" the old pastor asked sweetly. His voice nearly whispered to question. His tenderness brought her to further torrents of tears. He came and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Sister." he said nothing further. He waited. He was the kind of man who understood tears and knew that tears often flowed before conversation could begin.

"Oh Pastor" she groaned with her head still bent in a prayer position. She remained kneeling.

"What is it sister? Let yourself cry and then tell me." he implored.

"I feel so completely alone. I miss my mother. I wish I could tell you with words how much I miss her. My heart is crushing everyday with grief. My father is no father. He called me a roommate when discussing me with his girlfriend. I don't know anymore. My former boyfriend refused to marry me and I ended up leaving him. I have no one. All that I have died when my mother died.

There's no one anymore to discuss the things of  God and there's no one to call over lunch. There's no one to talk to, to lean on, to pray with, to even cry with. There's no one to share my life with. My friends are all married now, they all even have children.

I know God hasn't forgotten me and I don't need to ask Him why but I wish I could learn contentment. I wish I could have some comfort. I can't seem to find it. I can't seem to find a man to marry. These men won't even call me back after a date. No one wants me. No one." She burst into further tears.

"Oh sister. The Lord sees your heart and that you are His. He will never leave you undone. He knows that you're in need of a friend, that you're in need of more than a friend - that you're looking for someone to share your life with. He knows. You will not be left undone. The man that is right for you will have a heart adorned in love. That heart will see your heart and you will both be adorned in love for each other. Do not get yourself upset. It will happen. God will do it. What seems impossible to man is possible to God. You are a faithful woman and God never leave you in this state. Trust Him."

She looked up into his sky blue eyes and smiled. "Thank you Pastor. I suppose I wanted to know that God hasn't forgotten me. Sometimes as I look at my friends I wonder what I've done wrong. I wonder where I have sinned."

He frowned and touched her hand. "Sister, you have done nothing wrong. Every good and perfect gift comes from above. God desires to give you help mate and someone to truly love. Dry your tears and give thanks. The Lord always hears the prayers of His children."

She smiled at him and took her seat. He had told her exactly what the Lord had said to her in her heart just days earlier. She just wasn't sure if it was her feelings or if it was the God she served so diligently.

Friday, September 24, 2010

No Words

Tessa sat across from him at the coffee house. Her slim alabaster fingers curled around a mug of steamy frothed milk. Her eye lashes were thick. He could tell by the tilt of her chin and clenched jaw that she was deep in thought. It was rare that she was this quiet.

"What's on your mind?" He said softly.

She didn't immediately respond. She rubbed her finger around the rim of the now half empty mug.

"Tess?" he asked a little softer. A part of him hoped she wouldn't answer; he knew whatever she had to say would mean a long conversation and he'd had a long day.

"I was thinking of her this morning." Her deep grey eyes were smoky with tears.

"Of your mom?" he said with a small sigh at the end.

"It's ok. I'm ok. I don't need to talk about it." She looked down and swirled her finger round the rim of her glass again.

He took a deep breath. To ask or not to ask? he pondered with little humor.

"What had you thinking of her?"

"I awoke alone this morning and it was weird. The memories are weird. I don't know how to describe them. Suddenly I remembered the last day we saw each other. We had gone to church, ate at Nancy's and she said good night and that she loved me very much." Tears began to drip down the sides of her face. The alternative bands from the 90s strummed on. The overweight, goth waitress gave him a look of inquiry. He probably thought they were breaking up.

"I told her I loved her very much. We went to sleep. The next thing I knew it was 4 a.m. and she was stumbling out of bed; in terrible pain. We finally drove her to the hospital. There we were, I was bending over her and her eyes rolled away from me. I knew I'd never see her again. They rushed her away and the chaplain came down. He came down dressed in a black robe...maybe it was a black outfit...I don't know. I just remember him looking like the angel of death."

He was moved. He knew how much she loved her. How much she still loved her. Tessa wanted desperately to cling to her mother. She was like a small toddler pleading for her mother to come home. He felt restless. He had no words. He couldn't fix this. There was nothing he could do to bring her mother back. He felt angry and helpless. There she was, golden, angelic and filled with angst. He knew he'd bring her back to his place, make love to her and toss and turn all night. What was he to do? What could he say?

"It's ok if you didn't hear me." she whispered through tears.

"I heard you Tessa. I just have no words, there are no words." he groaned. He reached for his wallet and gestured for the waitress.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

There are no accidents - by Elisabeth Elliot

My friend Judy Squier of Portola Valley, California, is one of the most cheerful and radiant women I know. I met her first in a prayer meeting at the beginning of a conference. She was sitting in a wheel chair, and I noticed something funny about her legs. Later that day I saw her with no legs at all. In the evening she was walking around with crutches. Of course I had to ask her some questions. She was born with no legs; she had artificial ones which she used sometimes, but they were tiresome, she said (laughing) and she often left them behind. When I heard of a little baby boy named Brandon Scott, born without arms or legs, I asked if she would write to his parents. She did:


"The first thing I would say is that all that this entails is at least one hundred times harder on the parents than the child. A birth defect by God's grace does not rob childhood of its wonder, nor is a child burdened by high expectations. Given a supportive, creative, and loving family, I know personally that I enjoyed not a less-than-average life nor an average life, but as I've told many, my life has been not ordinary but extra-ordinary.

"I am convinced without a doubt that a loving Heavenly Father oversees the creative miracles in the inner sanctum of each mother's womb (Psalm 139), and that in His sovereignty there are no accidents.

"'What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Creator calls a butterfly.' As humanity we see only the imperfect, underside of God's tapestry of our lives. What we judge to be 'tragic--the most dreaded thing that could happen,' I expect we'll one day see as the awesome reason for the beauty and uniqueness of our life and our family. I think that's why James 1:2 is a favorite verse of mine. Phillips' translation put it this way: 'When all kinds of trials and temptations crowd into your lives, my brothers, don't resent them as intruders but welcome them as friends.'

"I love Joni Eareckson Tada's quote. When I saw it on the front of Moody Monthly, October 1982, I was convinced she'd penned the words for my epitaph. Now my husband David is aghast to hear me say I want it on my tombstone! Glory be!

People with disabilities are God's best visual aids to demonstrate who He really is. His power shows up best in weakness. And who by the world's standards is weaker than the mentally or physically disabled? As the world watches, these people persevere. They live, love, trust and obey Him. Eventually the world is forced to say, "How great their God must be to inspire this kind of loyalty."

"Being Christian didn't shield my family from the pain and tears that came with my birth defect. In fact, ten years ago when David and I interviewed our parents for a Keepsake Tape, I was stunned to hear my mother's true feelings. I asked her to tell the hardest thing in her life. Her response: 'the day Judy Ann was born and it still is....' And yet when we as a family look back over the years, our reflections are invariably silenced by the wonder of God's handiwork. Someday I hope to put it in a book and I know it will be to the glory of God.

"Getting married and becoming a mother were dreams I never dared to dream, but God, the doer of all miracles intended that my life be blessed with an incredible husband and three daughters. Emily is nine, Betsy will soon be seven, and Naphtalie Joy is four. I've decided that every handicapped person needs at least one child. They are fantastic helpers and so willing to let me 'borrow their legs' when I need help.

"You as a family have been chosen in a special way to display His unique Masterwork. I pray that your roots of faith will grow deep down into the faithfulness of God's Loving Plan, that you will exchange your inadequacy for the Adequacy of Jesus' resurrection power, and that you will be awed as you witness the fruits of the Spirit manifested in your family."

This devotional is used with permission by the author. It may be used solely for personal, noncommercial, and informational purposes. Republication or redistribution of this devotional is prohibited.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

On Feeling Overwhelmed

The last few weeks were extremely overwhelming for me. While I was preparing for the arrival of our incoming fall class, I was also preparing to discuss my future career path with my company. That coupled with the the feelings of loneliness was nearly causing my heart to collapse within my chest - if there is such a thing!

I came to Psalm 61 and was touched. Here's what I've learned about feeling overwhelmed:
  • There are times your heart is overwhelmed and you don't know why. Take it to Jesus in prayer. Give him your overwhelmed heart and trust Him with it.
  • Sometimes the relief of an overwhelmed heart is simply waiting on God. The feelings you have may not subside within hours or minutes of prayer. Take it to Jesus and take it to Him daily and keep waiting.
  • Do not act or react until God calms your heart. It may take longer than you think!
 1 Hear my cry, O God;
         Attend to my prayer.
 2 From the end of the earth I will cry to You,
         When my heart is overwhelmed;
         Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
        
 3 For You have been a shelter for me,
         A strong tower from the enemy.
 4 I will abide in Your tabernacle forever;
         I will trust in the shelter of Your wings.  Selah 
        
 5 For You, O God, have heard my vows;
         You have given me the heritage of those who fear Your name.
 6 You will prolong the king’s life,
         His years as many generations.
 7 He shall abide before God forever.
         Oh, prepare mercy and truth, which may preserve him!
        
 8 So I will sing praise to Your name forever,
         That I may daily perform my vows. (Psalm 61, New King James Version)

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Inspirational Words by Elisabeth Elliot - taken from Back to The Bible

It Is Hard to Enter by Elisabeth Elliot:
"The kingdom of god stands over against all other kingdoms--that is, against all other authorities, sources of power, objects of trust. It is hard to enter the kingdom of God--not because an angel is set to keep us out, not because God would surround Himself with a highly selected elite, but because the condition for admittance is renunciation of all other kingdoms. ...

Every day we are asked which kingdom we choose. Is it, in the last analysis, "thine" or "mine" which I most desire? What is it that my most earnest prayers are directed toward? "

Seed and Yeast by Elisabeth Elliot:
"Our prayers for change--in people, in situations--are summed up in the old petition, "Thy kingdom come"--but when we ask for that we are asking for what may seem an excruciatingly drawn-out business.

We will need the patience of the farmer and the baker who, having done the one thing needful, then quietly (and with calm faith) wait for the thing to happen."

Help Thy Servants by Elisabeth Elliot:
"Many of our prayers are for a quick and easy solution. God is more glorified in his people when they exhibit his grace under pressure. ...

We, too, may bring any difficult situation to our heavenly Father, laying it before his eyes, and asking not for instant escape but for "enablement"--for strength to sustain the burden and do what we ought to do without the fear of man."

The Face of an Angel

The clouds sprinkled droplets of water onto his canvas coat as he walked to the car, Bible under one arm and chin tucked a bit into the collar of his coat. It was the third church service he had visited in the small New Jersey town he had just relocated to. The heavens darkened suddenly as thundered rolled above him. Great, now I'm going to get stuck driving in a storm on the way home. He turned on the ignition and headed away from the tall white church he had just exited from. As he drove the rain pelted his windshield. He could barely see the road. Ahead was a small diner on the corner of an intersection. He pulled in. Eh, I have breakfast fixings at home but perhaps I'll just stop, eat and wait for the rain to slow. He reached behind his seat and began fishing for his umbrella. It wasn't in the back seat. Great! I guess I left that at home. This isn't my day for certain. At that point he wished he had slept in, instead of having bothered with the dull church service he had just attended.

The diner was bustling with waitresses busy with taking and delivering orders. Bus boys bustled around waitresses and dodged around patrons as they hurriedly removed empty plates. Laughter and conversation confronted him, along with the aroma of all things breakfast related: sausage, pancakes and brewed coffee.

A stout woman stood to the side of the main counter holding a lone cash register. Her eyes were a kindly blue. She smiled, "How many?" she asked in a thick accent.

His eyes widened as he drew his head back. "Uh, just a seat at the counter will do." he said brusquely.

She smiled and grabbed one menu. Her hair was cut short and was shellacked to her head with what appeared to be about 5 coats of hairspray. She led him to the counter. Several old men were disbursed at the counter. One was chatting happily with a pregnant waitress.

"I apologize if I was rude just now. I'm not exactly comfortable dining alone." he explained as he settled on the red cushioned stool.

"That is quite alright. I understand" she said as she patted in shoulder in departing.

He munched on his egg sandwich and watched CNN for what felt like an hour. He was growing bored with eating and turned his head to look towards the window to see if the rain had stopped. There she was, a golden smiling mirage. From the counter he couldn't make out the color of her eyes. She breezily stepped towards the stout woman manning the cash register. The hostess seemed to know her for she grabbed a menu and led her to a small booth in the center of the diner. The golden girl slid into the booth and put small shopping bag next to her. She seemed ecstatic to be there. Without even thinking he spun around and the stool and starting watching her.

She was a vision. Her skin was porcelain white and flawless. It glimmered like fine bone china when held towards the light. Her hair fell like strands of silk colored by golden rods. Hers was the face of an angel. He almost wondered if she was an angel. He had never seen a woman so unearthly in his life. She didn't look up from her menu and he wished she had. He wondered what the color of her eyes were. After she ordered she pulled out a small leather bound black book and began reading.

Oh! I think that's a Bible!

"Do you want more coffee sir?" the waitress behind the counter asked. He spun around in the stool, embarrassed, and looked at her.

"Uh, no...thank you." he said without hesitation. She started to walk away.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" she asked kindly.

"Who is the golden haired girl over there?" he said as he pointed to the angel seated alone.

The waitress craned her neck and peered at where he was pointing.

"Ah, I don't know her name but she comes in nearly every Sunday." She looked at him with a broad smile. "Sorry." She said and waited.

"Thanks. I'll take the check when you have if ready."

He quickly paid and started toward the door. As he exited the restaurant he couldn't help but look back at her. At that moment she looked up with a far away expression and met his glance. She smiled at him before returning to her reading.

He walked outside to a drizzle. I should say hello. What do I have to lose? It's not like I ever dine alone or will likely come here again. He turned mid stride on his heel and headed back inside.

"Did you forget something?" the hostess asked in a thick accent.

"I did actually" he said with a smile. She tilted her chin and waited.

"I want to say hello to that girl seated in front of you. She has the face of an angel" he said breathing harder.

The hostess smiled warmly. "Indeed she is. She comes every Sunday, reads her Bible and...tips well" she added with little hesitation. "Say hello to her! She never comes with a man." she emphasized "with a man" and winked.

With the hostesses encouragement he briskly walked to her table. She looked up with deep grey, blue eyes that reflected the color of her soul almost as the ocean reflects the color of the sky. She tilted her face to one side and gazed at him. She didn't smile but the corners of her rosy lips rose at the corners.

His voice caught in throat. What am I doing?

"Hi, I saw you while seated at the counter...was that a Bible you were reading earlier?" he asked as softly as he could. His voice had a tendency to boom. Women had told him his mannerisms where overbearing. He thought of that as he spoke to her.

She smiled awkwardly. "Why yes it was. I'm surprised you could see that from all the way over there" She turned her head and looked at the counter while she responded.

A waiter dodged around him as he stood awkwardly in front of her.

"Did you just come from church?" he asked.

"Oh no, I have service in the afternoon actually. I like to head to breakfast in the morning beforehand to center myself" she said with an easy smile. She sat back in her chair and confidently made eye contact.

"Ooh, where do you go?" he asked with eagerness.

"It's a very small church about a 1/2 hour from here." she said guardedly.

"Oh." he said with disappointment. He could tell she wasn't up for visitors at her church. He wanted to leave. She was friendly but cool and reserved. He didn't like reserved women.

"Did you just come from church?" she asked.

"Well yes...I'm new in town. So far I haven't found anything I like yet but I'm trying." he said this somewhat louder.

She raised her eyes brows and widened her eyes. He wasn't sure if she reacting to the thunder in his voice or what he said.

She gestured to the seat across her. "Would you care to sit down?" she asked easily.

"Thank you." he said and sat across from her. He had absolutely never seen such a celestial looking woman in his life. She embodied purity. He wanted to know more of how a woman could even look like that.

The Calling - Part 1 - Called to Loneliness

We must focus on what God has for us today. Patience is a life learned lesson and with each trial we learn how to wait. Waiting and patience require the person to submit to God, to trust Him for the provision and to abandon all of one's heart to the Maker of all things. It isn't an easy lesson to learn but it's a lesson that brings the greatest source of peace.

Last night I sat on my bed and cried. It was an emotional week but all went so well that I wondered why the tears? Tears can sometimes come from places other than sadness; they can come from fatigue, frustration or even from lacking the ability to speak to our Master. Last night I felt the Holy Spirit asking me to abandon my search for a husband and instead to fix my search on Christ. This of course means me removing myself from the online dating world and enduring inevitable spurts of extreme loneliness for an undetermined amount of time.

Yet I felt Him wooing me and telling me that my husband is alive and praying for me. That he has also put his request before Christ and it's now up for Jesus to bring us together. Having a Christian husband would be more than my heart's desire. Yet I felt so strongly that this man is living, that God will put us together and knit our hearts in Jesus love. Relationships and intimacy can't exist without Christ in the midst of them. Something will be missing. I want what I had with my mother. I'm not saying I want my mother but I'm saying that I want the union we had. It was intimate, completely selfless on both sides, allowed for vulnerability on both parties, mutually encouraging, inspiring and pure. It was meant to be. I was born to my mother and she was given to me by God. I want that relationship again only this time in romance. I don't mean I'm looking for my mother all over again but rather the type of relationship that's a gift from heaven. It must be given from Christ himself.

Lord, I trust you to give me this. You know I'm alone in this world and have little fellowship with those around me. I know you've always considered my heart, my frame and my needs. I give this to you. Help me to trust you. Help me not to despair. Help me to know you through this time. Your will be done. I'd like to say I hope you have my will in mind but crazy as I sound, I believe you've led me to where I am. That will lead me to this man and that we'll both know when we meet. I believe I'm asking in Your will. Just help me with the doubts, the fear and the longing.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Negotiating Need In Relationships

I just finished typing up my request for a reexamination of my position and salary. As I crafted, typed and bulleted my 2 page compilation of my work life, I couldn't help but wonder if I'm making the right decision. Will the firm think that I'm not happy in my job when I am? Will they think I'm not happy with my job responsibilities? I am and appreciate all that they've done for my almost nonexistent career up until this point.

As I lay on my bed kneading my aching shoulders I also couldn't help but wonder: Am I being taught a fundamental principle of healthy relationships - that of asking and expecting to get what we need of others?

Am I making the right decision to ask? I hope so. I know my heart is in the right place. I sincerely want to advance in my career and feel I have and want to be compensated accordingly. We shall see what God deems the outcome to be. It's in His hands now.