But What About When I'm Making a Smoothie?

 

Patience is the space God gives us 

to grow into the masterpiece 

He has already designed.

Max Lucado

I like to think of myself as a patient person, but deep down I suspect that I'm not.

Because of the smoothie thing.

Likely, my own grandchildren would call me patient, mostly because the time we spend together has been very intentionally set aside just for them.  With this advantage, most of them say they have never seen me angry.  (With the exception of Zachary, now 17, when he describes that one last time he jump-scared me from behind a door after several long months of that being a 'phase' when he was nine.) 

I rarely if ever use the horn on my car.  I try to encourage the cashier when I finally get there after a very long wait in line.  I'm even pretty chill during the few times I've had to go to emerg and it's taken hours, since I used to work in a hospital and understand how the triage thing goes, and that there are impossible decisions being made on the other side of those double doors where treatment is being administered.

I'm patient enough then.

I can give people room to grow, forgive an offense several times over, and wait for answers to prayer, all in God's good timing.

But please don't watch me make my smoothie in the morning.  

For whatever reason, I seem to have very high expectations that this daily task should only take a few minutes.  But no.  There's not quite enough milk, so I have to change the milk bag, and it won't go all the way down to the bottom of the pitcher like it's supposed to without several thumps on the counter.  And then the scissors aren't quite sharp enough in exactly the right spot to cut that corner off nicely, and I'm hacking away at it.  And then it starts pouring out in a trickle but the weight of the full bag shifts and suddenly milk is pouring out over the counter.  And then every single avocado I've ever cut in half won't cut in half evenly, and the pit doesn't come out at all until it's suddenly flying across the kitchen, and the half I need for my smoothie slips out of the spoon at just the last minute, and man those things are slippery when you try to pick it up!  And the chia seeds are all jumpy this morning, half of them escape to the counter, refusing to be wiped away easily.  And then, finally I've wrestled all the ingredients into the bottle part of my blender, but the blades don't screw on properly the first time, or the second time, or the third time, for crying out loud!  And then when the blending is done, it won't let go of the base, and I have to pick it up all awkward and funny until finally there's the click.  And now the lid won't thread onto the bottle the first time, or second time.  Gaah.  And I go to pick up the straw and flips out of my fingers and rolls under the counter where I have to go get the broom to retrieve it, and of course I need to rinse it off now because it's been under the counter.  Gaah again.

I make a smoothie every morning. This does not happen to me every morning.  But it does happen often enough in various iterations of similar, minor unhappy happenstances all strung out in a row, that I begin to be convinced that all the components of my smoothie, the ingredients and the tools used, are actually sentient beings out to make sure I never get the day started. 

I am not patient then.  

And I may have fooled cashiers and medical folks and even my grandchildren, but I haven't fooled my husband.  He has to watch this happening in real time.  Unless, of course, he senses it might be safer for him if he just left me on my own for a while. 

So there is still work to be done in me.  A LOT of work.  

That's why I'm glad for my morning walks,

and afternoon rests.

And for Mondays that begin a week of lesser plans.

I'm glad for the space God gives me to grow,

and for His immense patience with me. 

For how He sees me for what I am becoming,

and loves me enough to help me get there.

Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first.

May all your smoothies live up to their name.

May your Monday be full of all the little spaces you need.

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, 

clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, 

humility, gentleness and patience."

Colossians 3:12

This is another picture from my morning walk.  I love how the rising sun backlights the Queen Anne's Lace, emphasizing the spaces between the delicate stalks.  Maybe like the Spirit's movement within me, making space for me to grow.

This Week's Slice of the Story

Now this is more like it.

A full week ahead of me with a list that feels full of redemptive potential.
And while there's no news yet on the house front, I'm feeling more settled and at ease and hopeful.

Over the weekend I was reminded:

"I am confident of this: He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus."
Philippians 1:6

I don't read this as being so much about my current circumstances, as if this is some magical incantation that will get the house sold.

Instead, the promise is about what God's Spirit wants to accomplish in my heart and life for His plans and purposes for the sake of others.

And to keep it even more in context, this was written to a whole group of folks, the church in Philippi. So the stuff Paul is saying God will be faithful to complete, very much, in his mind, happens in the context of community.

I think that when this is all over and we are truly, physically settled into our new place, I'll have to write it all out somewhere to show how all the pieces come together.

For right now I'll just say that this step we are taking is not coming out of nowhere. It is only a small slice of a very larger story that will impact way more people than just us.

We're simply trying as best we know to follow Him into the next chapter. A chapter, I believe, He will be faithful to complete.

So on to the list and all that redemptive potential. And, if things go well, maybe by next Monday Ken and I will be able to sneak away to the cottage for a while.

I truly love all the accidental flowers that happen along the side of our fence this time of year. There's an abundance right now, with all this warmth and rain. Wonder who might be enjoying them next spring?

Blessings on this day for you!
May your week bring completion and joy and strength.

Beautiful, Dangerous Prayers

"Search me, God, and know my heart;

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting."

Psalm 139:23-24

We're at that stage of preparing our house for showings. We've already had the Stager go through to help us see our home with a 'buyer's eye.' She worked with us to make a list of everything that might be done to bring the place up to snuff.

No dates are set quite yet, and that's okay. Because while we feel the Stager's list was quite doable, and we're fairly on track, it was a long list and, well, we've needed the time.

I'll admit it's hard on the psyche when you work hard to clear out a lot of unnecessary things and start to feel good about the extra space, and then you start on some of the projects, like painting, that just disrupt it all with a big fat mess.

It occurs me to me, as I step carefully over paint cans and drop sheets, that the pursuit of a maturing faith can be the same.

Just like the gracious and professional Stager could see things we were blind to simply because we'd become accustomed to it, my soul needs a similar kind of deeper scrutiny. And if I want to keep moving forward in this journey towards Christ-likeness, I need to do far more than make things look pretty.

In fact, I have to have the courage to pray the more dangerous prayers. And then I have to be ready to do the work, despite the mess that ensues.

I don't have to go very far into things to find what needs my attention. Let's just do a simple listing of the 'fruit of the Spirit', that list of virtues Paul lays out as evidence of a maturing faith in Galatians 5:22-23.

Love, joy, peace, patience -- oops, we have to stop there.

Recently when I invited the Spirit to 'search me,' this thing about patience came up. Uh oh. I had thought of myself as a patient person. But then I began to notice how I responded when technology didn't work the way I expected it to. Or when all the wires on my desk would get so tangled. Or actually when anything that I think is going to require a matter of seconds, ends up slowing me down in a complicated, annoying kind of way.

Like I said. Uh oh.

That's just one example, just one paint can I have had to step over a few times of late.

A brief balancer caveat is needed here, because some of us more introspective types can overdo this for sure. No need to sit in self-analysis paralysis desperately searching for something wretched inside of us. God is faithful. If we are praying the dangerous prayers, He will bring something to our attention when we are ready and if it's the right time.

But in the right state of expectancy, a beautiful, dangerous prayer can be offered. In fact, it's necessary. That is, if we are intent on working with the Spirit in this process of spiritual formation.

And of course, the results can be so beautiful.
Like a fresh coat of paint....once all the furniture is put back in place.

Back to the move. Folks are asking so I'll just restate that we are NOT moving out of KW. The plan is to build a smaller dwelling that will be on shared property with our son David. This has been in the works for two years already, but is only requiring the concrete (pun intended) steps now.

More on that later. since I'm sure there are oh so many things to write about as we go through this stage of life transition.

Have a wonderful Wednesday everyone.
Take care for the big swing in the weather.
Personally, I'm enjoying the fact that usually on Wednesdays I'm out and about going all sorts of places.
But today....I get to stay in.
Maybe I'll even get to painting the trim.

The Dreaded Car-Ride Question

 

"Gramma, how much longer?"

It's an understandable thing, when you're six and full of energy, and perpetual motion is basically you're superpower, to feel somewhat constrained and perhaps distressed by being in a car seat for any length of time.

Gramma's best efforts to pack snacks, and books, and count the cows can't compensate. Even when we 'cheat' and set up a device to watch a movie in the van, interest wanes and the inevitable question is asked.

Many times.

It would probably interest some psychologist somewhere how my answers change throughout the duration of the drive home.

It starts with a very sympathetic realism, kindly explaining time in constructs a six year old might be able to grasp, about 'after lunch' and 'before supper', with suggestions for how we might pleasantly pass the time together.

In the middle (after the question has only been asked 4,502 times) I try the imaginative 'what if we could fly?', or 'let's invent a teleporter' game where we end up not just home in record time, but on the moon or other ridiculous places.

But in the end (where I've lost count), I confess, I resort to all-out sarcasm where it will take us three months to get home. Because by now it's starting to feel a bit like that for everyone.

Except Timothy. Timothy is quite happy to occupy himself by singing the alphabet song complete with grandiose, crescendo'd endings, until suddenly he stops singing and I turn to see he's fallen asleep. Way to go Timmers. Sorry to his Mom for the later bedtime tonight.

And I should mention that there are two very reasonable teenagers in the very back happily occupying themselves in conversation about the characters in the book series they are concurrently reading. Now that's a bonus!

Jayden, however.

Poor kid.

It was a long ride home.

And.

Sarcasm aside, I get it. Because I can be like that. Impatient on the journey. How many times have I asked God the very same question? "How much longer?"

I'm not alone.

Psalm 13:1

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts

and every day have sorrow in my heart?

Sometimes life seems like an excruciatingly drawn out car ride.

And I wonder if God, knowing that this is the only way home, just wants us to settle in and cease striving and count the cows for a while until we get where we're going.

2 Peter 3:8-9

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not willing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

In no way do I want to diminish the way pain and suffering draws out time. It does. And I think Jesus, hanging on the cross for all those hours, knows this. He does.

And.

We will get there.

Maybe singing is a good thing here.

Or taking a nap.

Trusting that the journey is exactly what gets us home.

The first thing that happened for Jayden upon arriving at his house was to be greeted by his playmates who basically swarmed him. And they ran around like crazy on the grass for a bit.

I think it will be like that.

Tomorrow's Blueberries

 

We are thinking about pies.  That’s how good the blueberries are this year.

It seems all the particulars of what blueberries need to be plump and plentiful have come together in just the right ways to make this season a joyful one.  Especially when you have so many eager hunter-gatherers on hand who aren’t “persnippity” about being out in the bush.

Yesterday, it started rather simply.  Timothy and I with a little cup, checking the small, easily accessible bush under the clothesline.  But when that turned out to be so very abundant, we just kept going until first Jayden, and the older ones had to join in.  Because….so…many…blueberries.

What a bonus for us that our property has some very well established patches.  And while we don’t get a good harvest every year, when we do, we hardly have to go out the door.

 

With new blueberry pickers now on the team, a few reminders are important.  Wear bug spray, step carefully, hold your cup upright, and it’s okay to eat a few as you go, but we need enough for the pie.

And another reminder.  Don’t pick tomorrow’s blueberries.

The big, dark ones are what we’re after.  The smaller ones that are still white, of course we leave those to ripen.  But the tricky ones are the ones that are a good size and deep red, and they look like maybe they’re ready…but they’re not. 

Those are tomorrow’s blueberries. 

I receive this reminder myself every year when I’m gathering.  Because, while it’s obvious when picking blueberries, reaching into tomorrow is a subtle temptation for those of us who contend with workaholism and/or an addiction to productivity.  I find myself often pressing into the work in ways that I hope might give me a head start, or a leg up, or even just a sense of satisfaction that I got more done than the day had in mind.

Planning, sure.  Reverse engineering and anticipating outcomes or needs is normally what I bring to the table, and serves well the people and vision we are accomplishing together.  Productivity in itself, is certainly a good thing.

But sometimes impatience with myself or others robs me of the best.  

What if I just waited for tomorrow’s new energies?  

What if what I want to fix ‘right now’ will resolve itself if I just give it time?

What if I just left an idea to ripen a bit before pursuing any further action?

There is a relinquishing of control in waiting for tomorrow’s blueberries.  Something like what I think God wanted His people to learn when He only sent them a day’s worth of manna at a time (Exodus 16).  Who’s really in charge here?  The one who wants to make a pie, or the One who ripens the berries?

Monday it is today.

We had a ripper thunderstorm last night, but I do think we’re good to put in some laundry today.

And of course we’ll be out in the blueberry patch again today…to get those berries we left yesterday!