Just Waking Up

It all came together yesterday and I was breathing – alive – again. The day was warm; the sun was shining. In northern Virginia where I lived until last April, it would have been just a fluke – a strange, frustrating promise of warmer weather somewhere off on the snowy horizon. But here in South Carolina, it might possibly have just been the first day of spring! Not the official meteorologists’ date, but my own, everything-is-waking-up day.

Steve and I took the boat out for the first time since November and we cruised up and down the lake at a pace slow enough that the wind didn’t even blow my hair. The entire population of lake birds was up and out – screeching, squawking, and praising God in general.

I saw cormorants swimming along and diving under for fish and then the bump, bump, bump across the water as their tail feathers dip in a few times before they’re airborne. I watched gulls diving for fish and shivered at water that must still be under 55 degrees. I caught my breath and realized that I felt alive, really deep-breathing, life-appreciating alive for the first time in a while.

For an instant I understood those descriptions in books where people with an illness have been given a second chance at life; and they go running out of the doctor's office, seeing and hearing for the first time. And yet in the very next breath, I was down, emotion-wise, in the bottom of the boat. And I thought, is this what it takes? Do I have to be retired, with a boat and no responsibility (for today anyway), lovely weather and birds singing for all to be right with the world? For me to be truly, gut-level happy? Even that’s not it. For to me to be ALIVE, feeling every breath and appreciating it.

Of course the answer is no. There have been plenty of times in my life when it was good and I was grateful while still carrying a load of responsibility, stress and debt. I’ve heard it said that we don’t do nearly as much growing spiritually in the good, mountaintop times as we do during the times of need and complete dependence on God. And so there have also been times when I was on my knees in complete pain but also feeling utterly alive.

So why have I been numbed by life lately? Has my real self, the part of me that enjoys every day that God gives me on this earth, been drifting quietly like our boat tied up all those weeks? And the answer is, as always, my lack was my doing. After Christmas, I decided that God was telling me to back off responsibility a little and, in my usual self-indulgent way, I said, “Great! Put away your Bible and pull out the computer solitaire! Better yet, completely invest yourself in Facebook and cards with friends.”

All right. I exaggerate. But in truth I did quietly tiptoe away from my blessed time with God everyday. I said hello to Him occasionally and did enough Bible study so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed at my study group. But my daily time that He and I so look forward to, my time just getting into His Word and reading for the joy of it was lost.

And it’s funny. The first day or two felt strange, like something was missing. But it got easier and there was always something to pull at me, to claim my time. And the layers of film began to fall over my eyes and ears and around my heart. Finally about 3 days ago, I said, “Enough!” And I went back to my Father who had been waiting patiently. I talked to Him about it, about all of it.

So it wasn’t the sun or the warm weather. It wasn’t the lapping of waves against the side of the boat. The pure joy of being back in the hand of my God awakened my senses and quickened my breath. No, I never really left. I just forgot where I belonged.

Psalm 150:6
Let everything that has breath praise the LORD. Praise the LORD.

All Things Are Possible

A week of weather miracles. Those in Virginia don’t consider the lined up and back-to-back blizzards anything but frustration at this point. But this is my second snow blog in a week’s time. And the amazing thing is that the second storm occurred in South Carolina – snow on Wyboo! Who would have believed it?

And the total amazement, the jaw-dropping disbelief is the point. I had been home only 5 days after traveling to northern Virginia to experience the February 5th blizzard. I knew full-well, or at least assumed, that I would never see snow in South Carolina. I miss my snow!

So as the week wore on, the forecast started with a slim possibility of snow, snow showers, a winter weather watch mid-week and a winter weather warning on Thursday. And I began to believe.

I am not arrogant enough to believe that God would send snow all the way across the south just to delight me. But I do know that He is willing to teach me lessons through His amazing ways.

And if it can snow at Wyboo, anything can happen. Can I find out His will and purpose for my life? Yes. Can He use this community to accomplish mighty works? Absolutely. Am I overreacting here? I don’t think so. Because in the day-to-day process of living out life’s little boring and taxing details, we begin to doubt that miracles exist. Even if we believe God is capable of enacting wonders, we deep down just don’t trust that He will.

So I jumped around and I whooped. I went riding in the golf cart and took pictures in the dark. The snow was great. But my God was showing me that He is in control, He is sovereign, and He can and will do what He pleases according to His purposes. And because good is in His design for me, I can’t wait to see what’s next!

Matthew 19:26; Romans 8:28
Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible”…And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Today My Favorite (Lack of) Color Is White

My stomach flipflops and my heart, while not pounding, does beat a little more quickly. A bit of panic underlies my state of complete excitement. Logic has flown out the window. Snow is on the way.

At this moment northern Virginia is my favorite place on earth. I have followed the snow and I’m so glad I did. I waffled on that decision for about 36 hours. It seemed somehow too self-indulgent to drive almost seven hours just to see snow. I was naturally coming to see the grandkids as well but I would only see them for Thursday night.

But then the rationalizing portion of my brain kicked in and I remembered a couple of things. I’m retired! And retirement exists for just this kind of thing. Plus this is not just an ordinary fluffy three inch snow. This is a storm! A monster! December 19th, the last big snow, was not only too close to Christmas but also it was Steve’s and my anniversary and I could hardly leave him then. And besides, Steve’s actually driving toward snow is never going to happen.

So I became a storm chaser.

And in the process I remembered why I so love snow in northern Virginia. Last night Cory and the kids took me out for pho, our favorite cold-weather food. Warms the soul.

Then we stopped by Safeway for, yeah, milk and bread. (I guess Cory was stocked up on toilet paper.) We walked and walked toward the store – no parking close last night – and stared at the empty space where the carts usually are. Cory said they must have moved them inside out of the weather. You know the answer to that one.

So we grabbed a small carry basket and plunged into the crowd. My smile grew as I looked around at the frantic shoppers and empty bread shelves. We made our way back to the dairy case and a small woman looked at Cory with panic in her eyes. “Can you please help me?” There were only three containers of milk left and they sat at the back of the shelves. The kids and I exchanged amazed looks as he pretty much crawled into the milk freezer.

Then this morning, I realized that I did not actually have enough food for the next six weeks. Because here, standing in the aisle at Giant, is where logic flies out the window. Somehow, never mind the Super Bowl, whole other issue, I must be stocked up for weeks. Look me in the eye and tell me that, at the most, I will be housebound for 3, 4 days at the extreme. I’m not hearing you.

Every person who lives in northern Virginia believes, really believes at this point, that we’ll be blessed to make it to church on Easter morning. Doesn’t really matter whether 2 inches or 2 feet of snow are on the way.

So I shopped for rotisserie chicken, cheese, stuff to make beef enchiladas, cold cuts, rolls, chips and salsa. And I jostled my way along with the rest of the grinning idiots who swear they don’t like snow, but aren’t we all smiling big? It’s a party in every home. For the first six hours and 3 changes of snow clothes anyway.

By Saturday afternoon, the interesting food will have been eaten; the kids will be tired of playing outside; the walls will seem a little too close. But I’ll be fine with it. Because on Monday morning, I’ll get in my car and drive back to sweet, sunny South Carolina.