Thursday, September 25, 2014

So GLAD I'm Getting Old(er)

I used to be quite the little spaz.
Everything was a big deal. All. The. Time.
In school, I would prefer to cheat on an assignment than risk getting anything
less than an 'A'.
I would spend HOURS explaining myself when I felt misunderstood.
I couldn't let anything go.
(OK, so maybe I still do this to Clay at times, but I'm workin' on it.)

I thought people needed to think like me, see the world like me, BE like me.
I followed a set of rules, and felt that others should follow them too.
I just KNEW I had thought through all of the "whys" of life.
I had a good reason for every action I I was SURELY "right".
Within that little box of control and unattainable perfection, I was consumed with how I was perceived. I wanted to please EVERYONE. It was exhausting. It was suffocating. It was wrong.

I can still get a bit intense at times; but my friend, Hindsight, has really calmed me down.
She is a force to be reckoned with.
I just have to acknowledge Hindsight, and she makes a difference in my here and now.

Looking at her, I see that wading through disobedience to God has brought misery and struggle to seasons of my life.
She also reveals that walking in obedience has resulted in internal peace and FREEDOM during other pieces of my life.
Hindsight's 41 years of wisdom show me that God loves me in my imperfections, and that He USES them to reveal my need for Him.
Good ol' Hindsight.

Every time I glance her way, I am reminded that loving others is far more important than being 'right'.
She's proven that to me.
Most of all, I have witnessed through her that hard times always get better - eventually. Each hard moment I've lived has made me stronger, taught me a lesson, and tore away some of the ugly in me.

Yep, that Hindsight, I need to keep in touch with her on a daily basis.

Just the other day, God used Hindsight to provide me with some much needed perspective.
I was comparing myself to others. I was feeling old. I was self-conscious about the swollen, wrinkled skin around my allergy-inflamed eyes.
She pointed to some of my favorite people in the world. She followed the paths they have taken through my life, and she said in a sarcastic voice, "Yah, the only reason you love them is because they are pretty."
Her figurative eye-roll reminded me that I don't even consider physical beauty when I contemplate those people who warm my heart the most. I connect with their spirit. I respond to their authentic love. External beauty is NOT how I want others to connect to me either.
I want others to light up when they think of me because of how I make them FEEL in the depths of their spirit. Do they know they are loved?

Age is such a gift. It has really calmed me down.
I praise God for every laugh line, as well as every scar.

Thank you, Hindsight...
Or maybe I should I call you by your proper name: Wisdom.
As each year passes, I get a bit more of you in my life. Praise God.

Job 12:12 Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding?

Thursday, September 11, 2014

I Used to Write a Blog

"So what you are actually that you USED to write a blog."

It happened after explaining to the English class that I regularly utilize a thesaurus when writing.
"Well, if I find time to write... I mean, I DO have a blog. In fact, you guys would probably like to read it...but I haven't really posted anything for 6 or 8 months..."
*mumble, mumble, talk to myself, forget that there are other people listening*

Then BOOM! *insert perfectly timed comment mentioned above - that struck right at my heart.*

Hmmm...he's got a point. Can I even say that I write a blog?
Can I smack this kid for pointing it out?
I'll show YOU, you snarky clever little 11th grade boy who felt the need to challenge me.
I win. You lose. That is all.

*shaking my head*
It took a confrontation with an adolescent for me to write something.
[sidenote: I just utilized a thesaurus to recall the word 'confrontation' rather than using the phrase 'pissing match' which was my first impulse. Those thesauruses really ARE wonderful. Sometimes, after spending my days with teenage boys, I need assistance to clean up my act and sound semi-educated.]
[sidenote to my sidenote: My boys just read the words 'pissing match' over my shoulder. It is a new term for them. They are laughing hysterically and spouting off about lighting fires and urine. It's not pretty, but it IS kind of funny. Oh my, there really is NO hope for me...or my children.]

I love teenagers. Truly, I do.
Intelligent, challenging, thinking ones are 'extra bonus' fun.
They keep things interesting and, apparently, push me to get things done.