Mad Skills

I'm over it, really I am. I bet you got the business, too, about things going on your "permanent record" when you left high school for the big, bad, real world. I don't mean to be a goodie-two-shoes, but I didn't have to worry about fighting or skip days showing up. I did worry about whether I could hang on to my algebra and geometry skills or those dates from history for the moment I would need 'em ... and 'they' told me a lot that I would absolutely need and use those jewels a lot.

I don't know if I could legitimately keep algebra/geometry skills or historical dates on the list of all I'm capable of or expected to do, but I have come to the realization that I do have some mad skills. Individual athletes and teams as a whole are touted in every pre-game projection and post-game recap for their mad skills. And, you have them, too!

I saw that McDonald's commercial last night naming the abilities and gifts of the Washington Redskins and Dwight Howard ... and laughed. Not AT them, but at the recognition of all that I've been asked or expected to do in this normal week of work/ministry. In addition to being preacher, teacher, pray-er, listener, counselor, etc., I have held my ground as:

• a GPS service (when I friend called for directions in a town that neither of us live in)
• a transportation manager (when a church member asked me to explain why the church parking lot was laid out the way it was and how we would fix a loading/unloading zone dilemma)
• a soil specialist (when church members asked me, yet again, what the construction guys were doing with all that dirt ... they were smooshing in down as tight as possible because good surface AND subsoil compaction is necessary for the stability of a structure, just in case you need to know)
• a psychologist (when a church member asked me to chime in on why a teenage daughter is exhibiting a fresh penchant for obsessive/compulsive thought patterns and behaviors)
• an event planner (when no one else seems to be able to open the closet door to see if we have enough plates/napkins/cups for the next spaghtetti dinner
• a chauffer (when no one else could bring themselves to run the van to our church picnic so everyone - meaning those who don't drive - could participate, too!)
• a social worker (when those riding your van are special needs adults who've been allowed to have way too much sugar and other stimulation ... just before you arrive to pick them up and promise to take good care of them for the whole afternoon)
• a referree (when representatives from two ministries within the church are jockeying for position on the church calendar)

And, I'm not even going into the afternoon as a tour guide! I never dreamed while I was in seminary that saying "yes" to Jesus would mean doing all that stuff.

I heard Maya Angelou, in an interview this morning, say that gratitude saved her life. I needed to hear her say that. I was almost ready to choose an attitude for the day that is much different from that one. But, to be bitter and resentful about all that I've done is to overlook my skills ... and God's faithfulness. You've heard the cheesy saying: If God brings you to it, then God'll bring you through it. I choose to believe that God is not just helping me get through anything that comes to me, but to show OUR mad skills in the middle of it - God's power and my openness to that power.

My guess is that you'll have something come up today or tomorrow that you had no clue you'd ever have to face or handle. I can't wait to see your mad skills! Go get 'em, Tiger!

Let's Do The Happy-Dog-Dance!

You might not be able to tell from her picture, but my Grace is a happy dog ... with a capital "H" and a lot of wag. She greeted me at the door last night with such enthusiasm that the disappointments and frustrations of the day melted away instantly. Though I had left her alone for almost 12 hours with nothing to do but watch the squirrels through the back door, my Gracie didn't hold it against me. She was REALLY glad to see me. She does this jump-in-the-air, twist-slightly-to-the-right, kick-my-back-legs-up-and-smile thing that brings nothing but joy, obviously to her AND to me ... especially since I couldn't do that in a million years if I tried (at least not all at the same time).

After she inhaled a treat and made a couple of fly-by's for poochie smooches, she headed for the back door and I remembered another canine incident just a week ago ... and, it was anything but joyful. Well, I have to admit I laughed so hard that I snorted. But, there was no joy in the moment for any of the parties involved except for me and my across-the-street neighbor. Here's what happened ...

I was standing in my front yard, talking with a neighbor about life and all it was holding for each of us and our families. We both noticed something out of the corners of our eyes, and commented almost at the same time ... "Is that what I think it is?" Seems another neighbor was "walking" her dog. Now, before I continue, just let me say that the sort of dog-walking business I'm about to describe does happen frequently in our neighborhood. It got started by a fairly new family who owns a mastiff-ish dog who is larger than most human beings I know. And, they "walk" their family pooch in the Turner-and-Hooch fashion sans the control stick - they let Bowser (I've changed his name to protect the innocent) run in front of the car until his little, I mean, huge heart is content while they simply try to keep up. But, what my neighbor and I saw instead was yet another neighbor driving maybe 3 miles an hour with a long, rhinestone-encrusted leash draping out of the window, attached to the driver's hand and to ... the collar of her sweet and exhausted dachshund who's legs were moving so fast to keep up they were a blur!

I was stunned, but not so as to miss the joylessness of the moment for most involved. The driver just got busted by her neighbors for being lazy enough to walk her dog that way; the dachshund surely found no joy in being seen in that position. And the poodle in the passenger's seat ...

I didn't mention her? Oh, yeah, the OTHER family dog was SITTING in the passenger's seat taking it all in. Unless I'm exaggerating a bit, I think I even saw a bit of a smirk on her face as she watched her friend/companion on the busy end of the leash. I believe that any attitude accompanied by a smirk can never really be joy; that would just be too nasty.

Anyway. I was aware last night as I watched Gracie flit around the backyard then bounce back into the house - and into my lap once or twice - that moments of pure joy might be a matter of perspective. The running dachshund might possibly have been tickled to run into two human beings that saw something wrong with that whole picture. Too, Gracie could have pouted about the long hours just watching, not chasing, the squirrels. But, she chose to do the Happy Dog Dance over seeing a long-lost friend and a milkbone.

She makes those kinds of choices a lot ... she dances over cheese, over the 5-year-old on the other side of the fence who sometimes scratches her ears, over hearing a fellow canine bark on T.V., on seeing her "Granny" and her "Tita." I want to make those kinds of choices, too. To dance more over the stuff life holds or brings me. Now that I've made that commitment, please cut me a little slack. I may be dancing more on the inside than the out, at least until I can get the twist and smile thing down at the same time.

I hope you find something to Happy-Dog-Dance over today!

Beauty Broken

It's been a while. And, to tell the truth, I'd rather be back where I've been than sitting in front of this computer. No offense.

I was blessed to spend a few days at the Gulf Coast, repairing my soul (and napping, to tell the truth). I love it all - the sound of the waves crashing against land, the feel of the constant breeze on my face and in my hair, the feel of sand and water tickling my feet, the taste of the salt on skin once the wave is long gone, and so much more I can't name it all. Like Jacques said, I'm caught in that net of wonder and just don't care.

I learned something valuable about myself and about you while I was there. Shells were everywhere! And, thick. There was a two-hour stretch when I channeled my Granny Georgia who could look for stuff, behind high in the air, for hours. I must admit, though, that my first two days there I didn't really take notice of a shell ... if it was broken. I wanted to see that illusive picture of perfection - the curves and the colors, the minute details, and the secret story of how it got to be where it is. I made a comment to one of my friends - sharing this time away - about the disappointment in the brokenness of a beautiful scallop shell. And, her response caused my mind and my heart to flip. She said, "That's what I love about 'em. Not one of 'em are perfect ... like us. Makes me feel better about my own brokenness, to see such beauty inside in spite of what's happened to them."

What I learned about myself is this: I don't want you to see my broken edges or the weak spots, because you might see only that ... when, what I want you to see is my glory - the curves and colors of my life, the minute details of who I am and the sometimes mysterious story of how I got to be me.
What I learned about you is this: Somehow pain and beauty are often hand-in-hand and being courageous enough to look at your pain will help me discover the depth of your glory - the curves and colors of your life, the minute details of who you are and the sometimes mysterious story of how you got to be you.

Needless to say, of the three tons of shells (not exactly) that I brought back, not very many are 'perfect.' But, the rest, are breathtaking in their own way. I never cease to be amazed at the hidden beauty revealed because of a crack here and a missing piece there. In a world that values (and sells) perfection - as if it really exists - what release there was and is because of my days on the beach! I am praying that you and I both can learn to love the cracks and missing pieces and, especially, the surprising glory revealed, too!

If I close my eyes and relax, I can almost hear the waves coming in ...