Chapped

     I was stopped dead in my tracks last week when my dog ate my lip balm. I have a whole drawer of unopened lip balm cylinders waiting to be used, but losing this particular one upended me. Seriously, I almost cried. 

       What in the world was going on? Did I need to return to counseling? How would I explain my loss of composure over a $3 luxury item?

      It was my fault. I left it in the pocket of my sweatpants that were tossed to the floor. While I showered, Dash sniffed out the small purple Kauai Kiss and decided it tasted as good as it smelled. My heart sank the moment I saw the little white cap bent beyond recognition beside her while she licked out the contents of the longer part. 

     I finished getting ready to go to church halfheartedly, all the while knowing I was being incredibly silly over lip balm. I tried to take inventory of the pain while sipping my coffee. Obviously there was a greater dilemma going on inside.

     I bought the lip balm in Hawaii two years ago and every time I used it, I remembered how it felt being there, so far away from my own reality. It was in January of the year I turned 50 and my outlook on life was starting a new chapter.

     That trip was pivotal in many ways. It took guts to tell my husband that I would be going. It took time to save enough money to pay off the plane ticket and still have enough left over to enjoy myself. But in going, I had jump started a new approach to life. I had decided that I wouldn’t be the one buried under a tombstone that said:

Here lies Krista. She forgot to live.

     I think we can become so used to taking care of everyone around us that we forget to enjoy the life God has given us. I had become that person and I am grateful that I recognized it before it was too late.

     I have since made bigger decisions like taking a new job out of my comfort zone and planning my first trip across the pond to London and Wimbledon this summer.

    In the moments after I found my smashed and mangled Kauai Kiss, I had felt a swipe against my new boldness. I’m still tentative when it comes to crashing against the tide and choosing me. The lines blur between feeling selfish and being healthy. It is a learning process.

     Thankfully, I’m moving past the loss and I won’t stay in a chapped lip funk. I opened a new tube from the drawer and come June, I will purchase a British brand of balm to soothe my traveling lips while I plan my next adventure.

Life’s a Journey. Pay Attention.

Crossroads

     I pass a small white building that used to be a convenience store on my way to work every morning. The name on the side is ‘Crossroads’ and recently someone decided to decorate the peeling white painted walls with colorful graffiti.

     “Follow your dreams. You can do it. Stand up for yourself. Never Back Down. Dream. Inspire.”

     The building art piques my interest because I came to a Crossroads in my own journey and I decided to walk down a new path. I had no intention of switching careers at 51 years old, but when I look over my shoulder, I see a series of events that brought me to the place where it was time to do just that.

     I loved my job at the weekly newspaper. I met incredible people and worked with a group of folks that were passionate and hardworking despite the many obstacles that management put in our way. I was writing every single day. 

     I was writing: great.

     Every single day: not so great.

     My ability to invest in anything else in my life became null and void. Once one story ended I was immediately pulled into the next. Days blurred together and I forgot what it felt like to truly have a day off. The more I did, the more I was expected to do. One day I looked up and noticed that the people I was supporting with my work ethic weren’t even reading my stories. I started feeling like I was walking down a dead-end road. My eyes were also opened to a few behind the scenes incidents that I could not ignore. God used these revelations to get my attention.

     I began to pray more fervently. At first it was a cry to be recognized for all I was contributing. I wanted to stay. Then it was a request to help me be content in my circumstances and if not, that God would open a new door.

     A month or so into my prayers, I got an invitation to lunch. Then four days later, I got another invitation to lunch, this time to explore a new job opportunity.

     Then I heard God say, “Go.”

     I resigned from the paper, worked a notice and started working for Greer Community Ministries as the media and marketing coordinator. We have four programs, the most well-known being Meals on Wheels. Mostly, we feed and clothe people in Greer. Working at a nonprofit was not on my bucket list but I can look back now and see how God was progressively changing my heart to be right here.

     A few years ago I picked up a book from my mom’s stack and began to read it. “Take This Bread” by Sarah Miles opened my eyes to how I should put aside my way of seeing people in need for the way God sees them. It also showed me that God can use any of us if we are willing to be used.

     The next year I read “Weight of Mercy” by Deb Richardson-Moore. I read it to interview her for a story, but God used it to remind me that everyone has a story and there are people with deep wounds that make bad decisions all around us and we are to first love them and then help lead them. Sometimes love starts with a warm coat and a hot meal.

The author is a former journalist that God called into ministry and when I interviewed her, I was fascinated by how her heart had changed.

      Both books are bold in their message: We are called to serve – no matter what happens on the other end of it. I had too often focused on outcome when it came to the downtrodden. It is quite freeing to start consistently seeing people instead of their circumstances.

      In my life, I have seen too many Christians become stagnant and immobile in their faith because they refuse to ask God to open their eyes to what’s next. I don’t want to be them. There is always more and wanting more brought me here.

     Pray for me. Pray for Greer Community Ministries. Like us on Facebook to get a glimpse into what we are doing. (That’s part of my job, getting more likes!)

     And don’t forget to listen for God’s whisper. He may want you to shake up your life as well and move into the next phase of your journey with Him.

Life’s a journey. Pay attention.

Gardenias

     As I entered the parlor where the wife and two sons of my husband’s cousin stood shaking hands and hugging those gathered, I smelled the thick sweet smell of gardenias. The strong rich aroma could have been a funeral home enhancement but it most likely came from the impressive display of flowers surrounding the family.

     Nestled between arrangements were family photographs. One in particular caught my eye and the tears welled up before I could stop them. It was a father holding his young son in his lap as he watched the ocean from a beach chair.

     Directly above was a colorful floral display from “The Beach Bunch,” lifelong friends mourning the loss of one of their fold. On the card was the simple, poignant phrase, “We love you.”

     There would be no more dancing to beach music. He wouldn’t get the chance to hold his future grandchildren on the beach like he did his sons. He barely got to know his new daughter-in-law.           

     Bobby Gibson was only 62 and he touched so many lives before he left us. That was evident by the number of people who showed up at the receiving and the funeral to honor his life.

     Dear Cancer: Stop stealing my family and friends.

     We left the funeral home and stopped to eat. I ordered fried shrimp and a soda. I rarely eat fried food and I haven’t had a soda for months.

     I didn’t do it for comfort. I wanted my body to feel as sick as my heart felt in that moment.

Five months from diagnosis to death. Why does cancer keep winning? It was hard not to let myself fold in like an airless accordion after two funerals in three days last week.

     In faith, I believe both men are in a better place. But we are left here, unable to breathe deeply because of the pain. Our lips quiver and our eyes weep.

     Yet we are called to keep moving and not give in to a bitter spirit. We must find a way to continue to love even though this is how it always ends.

      We hold in our heart’s pocket a handful of memories. They may not always sustain us but like the gardenias’ sweet smell, our remembrances can remind us why it is important to love deeply while we can.

Fearless

     “He whispers in my ear, tells me that I’m fearless.”

     These words are the opening line of a worship song that I love to sing by Gateway Worship called "All He Says I Am." Although I love to sing it, I find it hard to apply the words to my life. 

     Fearless? That conjures up a visual of a super hero to me. I am not a super hero.

     I’m a taskmaster. I can knock out a to do list in short order. I am responsible. I manage my home, my job and my relationships with clarity and vision.

     But fearless? No.

     And yet, hearing those words excites me. I want to be fearless–so full of faith that I never question what He whispers in my ear to do. When He asks me if I trust Him I can say “Yes, of course I do.”

     Instead I tend to remember how hard it is to give up my desire to control the outcome of every situation. Do I trust Him? Sometimes.

     Being fearless means my hands are open, palm up, ready to receive what He places there.

     “I am all. He says I am.”

     Being unable to please everyone all the time has created chaos in me for most of my life. Feeling inadequate when I couldn’t be everything someone needed me to be has also been a curse.

     To believe wholeheartedly that I am all would regulate my breathing in a way nothing else ever could.

     It all sounds so simple when you sing it in a worship song. Why do I make it so difficult?

Because He didn’t make us to be drones that march out His orders. We have a story and a face and a name. Our stories intertwine with many other stories. We get to choose our course of action.

     When we listen to His whispers and decide to choose His path, we not only add depth to our story, but also to the stories of others.

Obedience

I am a writer. Writer's write. Writer's read. And we listen to little voices in our heads that command our attention. Or in the case of creating this blog, to the thundering voice of God that even in a whisper masks all others.

I've shied away from this type of exposure. Mainly, I'm busy writing for a weekly newspaper that asks me to spread 35 hours of work over seven days and use it to create thousands of words of copy. I attend meetings that run long and have difficulty telling my loyal readers no when they ask me to cover their event on a Saturday evening, long after my hours have expired. 

I have the privilege of writing a weekly column where I can wax poetic about whatever I want. I write feature stories that allow me to draw pictures of local characters in our town. I felt sure my writing life was sated.

But I kept hearing God tell me to do this. I didn't want to add another portion to my plate but the door seemed wide open, so I'm walking through it. 

I feel changes brewing. I'm not sure what they are or what they mean. But I hope by sharing my journey I can help put into words what someone else is feeling.

At 19 years old sitting in a dorm room at Gardner-Webb College, here is the verse that settled my dilemma of "What are you going to be when you grow up?"

I Corinthians 2: 11-13

For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him? Even so the thoughts of God no one knows except the Spirit of God. Now, we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God, which things we also speak, not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining spiritual thoughts with spiritual words.

I don't know exactly what this blog will become, but He does. Pray that I listen for all He has to say.

Life's a journey. Pay attention.