Restlessness

Nothing to write about, no intense words to share, but I still feel a burden in my heart to pen a phrase or two. Every once in a while I feel the need to evaluate my life and accomplishments; not necessarily at the end of the year like most people do. And I’m coming up a little empty lately. Living from deadline to deadline, timelines, project gateways, due dates- is that how my life is defined now? I remember someone using the illustration about not remembering every single meal his wife prepared in the 30-plus years of their marriage, but he was strongly assured that they were deliciously nutritious because he was healthy, nourished, and happy. I try to apply that lesson to my life and wonder if I am leading a fulfilled life, even though I can't remember many extraordinary events besides big ones like my baptism and wedding (which actually were 2 weeks apart!)

Speaking of extraordinary events, I’ve had a horde of friends and acquaintances announce pregnancies and have babies in the last 12 months. I wonder if this has anything to do with my restlessness. Yeah, that’s a good word. My state of mind is not centered around unfulfilled dreams or discontentment. It’s restlessness in my heart, an impatience if you will, similar to when a piece of clothing doesn’t quite sit well and for the whole day you feel disturbed. Maybe it’s because I’m 38 years old, a healthy and emotionally strong woman who has a nurturing and happy spirit and has decided that having children is not her thing. Nothing wrong with that, a lot of people tell me. But they still ask: why, when, how come? Why can’t I just be me without being compared to someone else? Even I am guilty of this – I compare myself to those who are having / have had babies all around me.

I can’t explain it – my biological clock doesn’t tick. I can hold and love a baby for hours, give him/her back to mommy and not feel the need that I have got to have one. And I’m good with kids – they like me and seek me out. So why this feeling of restlessness? It’s because I don’t like being told what to do and when to do it. Enjoy your moment, but don’t ask me why I don’t want to share in your moment. I’ll have my moment on my own terms, when I’m good and ready.

So let me bask in your pregnancy glow. I’ll go to your showers and ooh and ahh over the cute and sweet gifts. I’ll visit and hold your precious little baby, have him/her wrap their perfect little fingers around mine and kiss their soft skin. I’ll pray for you, for wisdom and patience and restful sleep. But don’t ask me why and when. Let me deal with my restlessness and come to terms with the plans God has for my life.

Where has my heart gone?

12,182,400 seconds. That's how long it's been since I've last sat down and written down thoughts for my enjoyment. Way entirely too long for someone who likes, okay needs, creative outlets for day-to-day frustrations. Calculating the amount of time since my last blog post until today was no easy feat. But doing so made me ask "What did I do in the meantime?" Even my running has dwindled to a minimum since that time. The skeins of yarn lay quietly near my bed anxiously waiting to be twisted and twirled into a treasured gift. How in the world have I maintained my sanity? I don't know. This has been a hard 4.5 months. Challenges at school and work, living among kitchen renovations and all the chaos - it has not been easy. And Joy has not lived by her blog title and has not indulged in her simple pleasures that slow the heart rate of her inner peace. Sounds like a good start for the year, don't you think?

Nostalgia with questions

When did life get so complicated? I'm racking my brain, trying to remember how old I was when I woke up and simplicity left me completely. When did stuff begin to matter? I remember wearing orthopedic shoes and socks up to my knees and not caring that I looked like a complete dork. Inwardly I knew I was cute regardless of what I wore.

When did people begin to matter? I remember having a yellow bean bag doll that was my best friend. And I remember the first time my heart was broken by a friend who left me for another friend. Dissed. Playing with snow, laying on the beach with sand in my bathing suit, chasing wishes in the wind. Remember the wishes? They were weeds that were caught up by the wind and if you managed to grab one and made a wish, it would come true! And I believed it wholeheartedly.

When did I stop believing? The idealist who would be president, feed the hungry world, and run free, that was me. When did a paycheck become a necessity and paying bills an obsession?

I long for days of beauty, complete beauty, from start to finish. A glowing peace deep within my soul, assurance that what people say doesn't matter, money is not an issue, laughter abounds in plenty, and family will always uphold me regardless of my beliefs.

Sabbatical = Writing Funk

Call it lameness, a reprieve, life happens, whatever - I can't think of any good excuses why I haven't kept up with my blog writing. It's not that I don't enjoy it - for me, writing is therapeutic. So during my very therapeutical run through my neighborhood this evening, words were flying left and right through the short diameter of my brain and I was determined to sit down and write a few sentences that were so full of meaning that I would leave everyone speechless. And then I remembered that there is no everyone! Nobody keeps up with my blog anymore because it's been a very long 3 month dry spell. Except for my faithful ex-neighbor Jo Ellen who asked if I minded if she linked my blog to hers. Minded?! It's exactly the push I need! It's spelled a-c-c-o-u-n-t-a-b-i-l-i-t-y (wow, that was hard to type like that!). Thank you, my neighbor-from-very-afar, you have resurrected my desire to express and rant and rave about life. I will not let you down, my audience of one! From here on out, I will publish witty stories, pensive poems, words of wisdom and meaning that will color your literary world with goodness and mirth. Right. Always the overachiever. Let me just shoot for a paragraph or two of my very boring happenings and how I interpret life through them. That I can do. Thanks JEB!

Poetic Oracles from Malachi

A poem written by Joy, taken from the four chapters of the book of Malachi...

He says, "I have loved you..."
And yet I have defiled His altar.
"I will open for you the windows of heaven..."
But time and time again I profane His Name,
A Name that should be great among the nations.
Why, O Lord, when You offer me eternity do I turn my life away?
All You ask is for my heart
As a token sacrifice for Your love.
Instead, I bring you blind choices,
Lame excuses, a blemished and diseased heart.
You, Lord, are the Sun of Righteousness
And You arise with healing in Your wings.
"Become Mine," the Lord of hosts pleads.
"I will make you My jewel.
Return to Me, and I will return to you."
In what way can I return, O Lord?
"Come, and I will refine you in My fire,
I will launder you with My soap,
I will purify you and make you shine like silver.
Offer yourself to Me
And I will pour out such blessings
That there will not be room enough to receive them all."
Yes, my faithful Father,
Write my name in Your Book of Remembrance.
I will be Yours.

Diary of a Novice Runner

Running has been a part my life for the last two and a half years. I went back and read a journal I had kept when I first started running. It's amazing how far I've come along in my little sport. There was all this writing about routes and minutes. Before I had discovered Gmaps pedometer by Google, I used to drive my car and reset the counter to see about how many miles were in each of my routes. And I was so determined on running faster and harder. There's an entry in parentheses that says "stopped to pet cat" and that made me laugh. I used to do that a lot. And stop to smell flowers. Squeal at hopping bunnies. Then there was the Glendalyn Circle mountain that took me - no lie- about 3 months to conquer. It wasn't really a mountain, but let me tell you that it left me gasping for air every time I ran it. Funny, I don't run it anymore. And then another feat - running on a treadmill. I was deathly afraid of treadmills and breaking my neck - coordination is not my thing but I managed to stay on for 5 whole miles the first time I tried it. Now I can run on the treadmill and watch TV at the same time! That took me about 2 years to conquer. I even wrote down the day when I registered for my first race: September 20, 2005. That was big. I went from running one or two blocks at a time to setting a goal to run 13.1 miles in one swoop. And I trained hard during those next months. The journal is filled with accounts of black toenails and blisters, sore muscles, hip pain, and bad shoes. Little by little I increased my distances until I was able to run for a whopping 13 miles without stopping. All in a matter of 5 months!

I want to share my journal entry on the night before the day of my big race. "It's Race Day Eve-Eve!! I did my last run thru the neighborhood as an amateur. The next time my feet hit this pavement I'll be a seasoned pro!! LOL My brother called and left a message for Flo-Jo. :) I'm going to have quite the cheering crowd in ATL - Kev, Stevo, Jay, Amy, Christopher & Tracy too!! Awesome! Everyone's going to think I'm an elite runner!"

And then the unthinkable happened. That same night after I had finished journaling and packing for the most extraordinary sporting event of my life, Kevin and I were overcome by carbon monoxide in our home. And I spent race day, by the grace of God, in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber at the hospital. After being able to run 13 plus miles at a time, five days later I went back out to run and couldn’t even finish 4 miles. I had said that the next time I ran through my neighborhood I was going to be a seasoned pro. Instead, I was a humbled runner, grateful to be alive, my lungs weak but miraculously healthy.

I just ran my 6th race this past weekend. Back in my beloved city of Atlanta. I didn’t break any records or stop to pet any cats. I ran with 14,000 other runners who had stories of their own to tell. Funny, it’s a routine with me now - I always think of my Race Day Eve-Eve experience as I wait at the start line to take off running. And a prayer always escapes from my lips as the feet take off and the adrenaline starts pumping. “Thank you Lord for letting me live to run yet another race”.

Joseph and the falafel

What do these two things have in common? Biblically, nothing really. Though I'm sure being of Middle Eastern origin, the falafel may have been around during Joseph's time. The intent of this post is not to discuss the theological or historical connection between Joseph and the falafel, though I'm sure Veggie Tales could narrate quite a humorous story from the title alone.

If I only had two words to describe the outcome of my week, they would be "Joseph, Falafel". (I can't even say "and the" between the two because that would be more than two words.) I've always centered my work ethic and philosophy of life around the story of the life of Joseph. As I struggle with challenges at work, sometimes even slight persecution, I find unending comfort in a story that speaks of adversity and faith to such a high degree. Even when I'm up to "here" with work, just thinking about Joseph makes me feel triumphant. My prayer has always been "Lord, make me a Joseph in my job." Whether he was in charge of a household, a group of prisoners, or a whole kingdom, Joseph was always anchored to God, and he made a difference in everyone's life that he came in contact with. The job did not define him - his walk with God defined him.

Back in September of 2006 I was challenged to take my current position at work to a new level. I was uncertain and hesitant about these new responsibilities. But after much prayer and good counsel, I rose to the challenge. The task was not easy by any means and there have been many times when I honestly question the soundness of my decision. I've hit lows that probably don't quite match Joseph's stint with slavery and incarceration, but in the context of events throughout my life thus far, I did some hard time. Yesterday I was made second in command to the Egyptian kingdom. Okay, not really. Actually, my manager sat me down and presented me with my annual portfolio review. It was good. It was very good. Okay, it was fantastic, aside from a couple of "positive criticism" remarks that were only thrown in there because I obviously cannot be perfect. It was the highest rating I've ever received. And it came with a promotion. Not a huge promotion, but enough to reward me for the last 18 months of challenges and give me a good dose of confidence. I had not asked for a promotion. In fact, I thought it would be at least a couple more years before I would even dare ask how I could possibly get a promotion. And in the whirlwind of renovations, remodels, and reconstruction in which I live in, this blessing has come at the most opportune moment. Thank you, Jesus.

The falafel part of this success story came into play today. I love falafels - they are my absolutely favorite fried fritter. I rewarded myself today with a trip to The Pita House and a plate full of falafels to mash into my pita. Yum. As I sank my teeth into the grainy texture and contemplated on my small accomplishment, my heart was full of gratitude to God for seeing me through and showing me once again that hard work, honesty, kindness, sincerity and perseverance always pay off.