Relational Traffic

Acts 1:6-7 So when they met together, they asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority.

Sometimes I get impatient. Ok, I get anxious and impatient a lot. Specifically when dealing with relationships. I want things to be fixed now. If not now, then I want to know when problems will be resolved. I want an end date. I want to give God a deadline. I struggle with allowing God to work out the timing. I frequently forget that His timing is always perfect. Always. Even when it seems to be taking too long. When it appears to be going nowhere, God is working out the details. I need to remember that.

When driving a commute, I would much rather take side roads and be zipping along at 35-40 miles an hour on a windy route that takes just as long as if I’d sat bumper to bumper on the straight freeway. That’s my nature. I want to be moving…somewhere. Even if it’s not really actually making up any time. I feel that way when waiting on God. I want to grab the wheel, get off at the next ramp and take my own meandering path to our destination. But you never know on the freeway where the traffic is going to “magically” dissipate, leaving miles of open road to speed along. In life, I never know when God will put all the proper pieces in order, removing obstacles and roadblocks to allow for smooth sailing. In the midst of relational troubles, especially when waiting on God’s timing, it’s easy to throw my hands up and say “Just forget them. It’s not worth my energy. I’m outta here”. Pausing to let the Lord’s work be done is like torture for me, but I know that ultimately a beneficial resolution will only come when I pray and wait for God’s perfect road clearing will to be completed. I just wish it wasn’t so difficult to do.

God, please help me to continue to wait on you. Allowing your work to be completed on my road of life. Please make clear my path and open the highway of my relationships for a smooth pleasant drive. Thanks God. I love you. Amen.

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“Nope, they’re still broken…”

Back in September, I decided to become a runner. I’ve always watched the skinny girls at the Y running on the treadmill and wanted to join them, but never had the guts. Mostly, I was sure I would be “that person” who biffed it big time while attempting to pick up speed. I had horrible visions of myself flying thru the air after bouncing off the moving belt. Ultimately however, I decided that the plateau I’d reached in my weight loss wasn’t going to budge unless I got on the machine and attempted running. Not walking fast, not climbing up with the ramp hiked up at an obscene angle – actual running.

So, I began. But, being the person I am, I couldn’t just try to run. No, I had to set a goal. What did I choose? A half marathon. Simple enough right? But, to add additional motivation – I actually signed up for one…scheduled at the end of November. I thought surely 12 weeks was plenty of time to transition from 60 minutes of cardio daily to running 13 miles in one shot. No problem. [Read more…]

Lock your doors!

Buuzzzz! Buuzzzzz! Buuzzzzz! At 4 o’clock this morning, I was awakened from my dreams to the sound of my alarm. It took me a few minutes to recall why on earth I was waking up at such an ungodly hour. As I blinked bleary eyed at the green numbers switching to 4:01 I remembered – my dad was having heart surgery this morning. I am not a morning person. I’m quite thankful that both my kids sleep in each day until after 8 and that, as a stay-at-home-mom, that means I get to as well. Even when I have somewhere to be in the morning, I rarely am awake before 7:30 because I refuse to schedule doctor appointments (and such) before 10 o’clock. The few reasons I am happy and willing to wake up before the sun are: Christmas, an early flight to Disneyland or a morning hot-air balloon ride. Driving an hour to sit at a hospital worrying about my dad certainly does not top my list of fun things to do in the wee hours of the day.

At five on the dot, two of my sisters (Amy and Lizzy) arrived to ride down to the premier hospital in the area with me. We stopped to pick up our Nanny (not a baby-sitter, our 82 year old grandmother) on the way. As I pulled into her driveway and dashed up the stairs in the misty rain, the oddest thing happened. Her door didn’t open when I turned the knob. Strange. So, I turned it the other way, thinking I’d forgotten which way it opened. Still not budging. Please understand, this was the first time in my entire life my Nanny’s door had been locked. Seriously. I have no memories of anything other than knocking lightly on Nanny’s door and then going right in. Since she is now mostly deaf, I was pondering how hard/long to stand there pounding on the door when I heard the phone ringing in the house. One of my sisters was calling to let Nanny know we’d arrived – smarty pants.  It hit me just then WHY the door was locked. My Poppa (Nanny’s husband of over 50 years and my beloved grandfather) has been in and out of hospitals and rehab centers since last December and hasn’t lived at the house with Nanny for many months. It made me sad to think of my sweet English grandmother living alone and being concerned enough for her safety that after 40+ years in the same house – she’s finally locking her doors against the evil of the outside world. [Read more…]

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