Day 3 in the week of posts!
Sticky. That's what it's like writing this post. No, I did not spill maple syrup all over my computer. What I mean to say that in writing right now is feels sticky in that it is difficult to find the words to write it. Today, I had a million thoughts bouncing around through my head, but none of them seemed truly worthy of posting. So I just started. The cursor blinking at me mockingly, each word was somewhat of a drudgery. Like pulling tired legs through knee-high sand, I felt the weight of writing tonight. In fact, I feel it now as I type this very sentence. Yet with each character, something sparked within me. This is what life it like! Sometimes, life is sticky. Sometimes there are things that we are to do, but they don't quite come as easily as we would desire. Sometimes it may feel uncomfortable. It may be the changing of a bad habit. It may be stepping out in faith at work. Possibily it means speaking to someone who intimidates you or telling someone how you really feel. It may be starting the project that seems impossible and is looming over you at every turn. The point is, sticky times call for action. Sometimes, you just have to start. Start thinking, typing, talking and walking it out. Open up, step out, go on and move forward. As I began this post, I felt stuck. I also won't pretend that all the "sticky-ness" of this post has magically disappeared. Yet what I realize it that by starting, I accomplished what I set out to do. I wrote. I fought against "sticky" and came out victorious. And I did it all with 31 minutes left on the clock.
Sticky.
Red Light Recollections
Day 2 of my week challenge! Buckle your seatbelts!
Alright. This post may at first make me "creeper status", but allow me to explain. It is said that the average person spends such-and-such amount of time sitting at stoplights. Though I do not know this exact amount of time, I would suspect it to be quite a lot. I personally use this time to watch people in the opposite turn lane, perhaps you have done the same. I love to watch people in their cars as they drive passed me. I am always overwhelmed by how many people I feel like I have never seen. I ponder them, sitting there at that obnoxious red light teasing me. I wonder who they are. What is their family like? Where are they going? Who are the people they love the most? What do they believe about life and what caused them to think that way? What have the seen, who have they talked to, and what experiences have shaped their world-view in the time they have tread this green earth?
Cracks and Calluses
Challenge time! About a year ago, I did a small personal challenge on my blog. This challenge was to write one post a day for a whole week. I remember this stretched me and caused me to think, but I loved it. That is why I decided to bring back the one week challenge. For the next seven days I will post once every single day. I have no clue what this week will hold, but I invite you to take this journey with me all the same!
Here's today's post:
I distinctly remember when I was first learning to play my harp. For hours I would play, and so often after so long of my fingers striking the notes, pulling at the rough strings, my skin would break and my fingers would bleed. Yet after the blood was shed, dried and forgotten, my fingers daily grew stronger. After a while, calluses began to grow. As this process continued, I realized that my new-found strength has been brought forth through what once was pain. Loneliness is like this. Trials are like this. Life is like this. Lonely times are never fun to encounter. In fact, as we strike our lives against strings of loneliness, sometimes we may bleed a little…or a lot. But oh how good it is! How much is it to our benefit! How a little bloodshed brings a deeper strength. Now do not think here that I mean we ought to wallow in our loneliness or lament again and again over our pain. Yet we must be able to allow it to transform us and be made better through it. Calluses form, not to keep us back or to keep us from relationship, but instead to make us more apt to play beautiful melodies. Because I have bled, I now can better perform. Sometimes pain brings forth strength and ability to do and be so much more. I thank God for letting me to go through lonely times, for allowing me to sometimes bleed for my own benefit. Now I am more able to play on for His glory.
Worth in the Woods.
Boating on the lake. Freezing under piles of blankets. Eating food cooked over a fire. Spending nearly 5 hours playing Monopoly. Singing worship and having devotions in the woods. Cribbage tournaments. Video shoots. Dusty feet, mosquito repellant and sunscreen. It can only mean one thing...
Late Night Laundry.
I have a confession. Today,
I had a bad attitude for an hour. Today, I probably said or thought something I
shouldn’t have. Today, I was an icky sinner. What a concept!
I was reading a blog earlier
where a girl spoke about how she writes about her day as something fantastic
and how it makes her sound so unreal. She writes,
I don't wake up every morning, smiling at the sunshine and skipping into the kitchen and sitting in the dewy sunlight that streams into the kitchen while I make my morning coffee.
Updates!
If you havent noticed yet, I have been updating my blog quite a bit lately. I now have these lovely little tabs at the top of the page where you can go to check out my favorite quotes, growth journals, my other blog and other blogs that inspire me. So go on, use them!
Restoration.
Over the past few days, a
thought has been plaguing my mind and continues to arise within my every
conversation. Today, it came as I spoke to some dear friends, a topic that is
so stirring, so real. We do not know the world in which we live. Our generation
calls desperately for attention and has found it in things unheard of 50 years
ago. We want to be noticed, maybe more than ever before. We sat, discussing how
our generation is that which cries so desperately for purpose, seeks so
intently for meaning and for life, wants to have a cause for which it will
fight, yet settles for complacency, apathetically accepting the world as it is.
An Object.
