Last night, I was out late at the movies with a couple of girlfriends. While on my way home, I got stopped at a red light. I was the only car in sight. Absolutely no one was around, it would have been safe to go through the red light. Except, I was making a left hand turn and going through the red would have been illegal. I thought about it for a few seconds, trying to consider if I should just go. I was so tired and the closer I got to home, the more I felt my eyes drooping.
As I was contemplating my next move, I had a thought. If no one sees me run this light, does that make breaking the rule ok? I had no risk of getting caught and no risk of hurting anyone, so what was my hesitation? I thought about life in those few seconds at a red light at 2:30 in the morning. When any of us are faced with a decision, we weigh the risks. Will we get caught? If no one sees, is it ok? This is a trap meant to set us off course. How many diets are sabatoged by brownies eaten in secret? How many marriages are destroyed by affairs begun in secret?
Deep thinking going on in the wee hours of the morning. Thoughts I need to be reminded of in the daylight hours as well. Because even if no one sees my sin, it is nonetheless, still there.
Oh, and in case you are curious. I waited for the light to change before heading home.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
The Missing Peace
A couple years ago, my husband and sister-in-law and I were working on a puzzle. I think it had like 1000 pieces and it was of cows drinking from a fountain in some quaint European village. Think shades of blue and brown. Looking back, it was really a great activity for the three of us. My sister-in-law was living with us at the time and the puzzle became our nuetral ground. It became the place where we could talk without pressure. We became obsessed with finishing this puzzle and it even turned quite competitive when one of us discovered that someone had filled in an area we had already claimed as ours. We followed all the puzzle rules. Separating out the edge pieces and sorting pieces by color. The problem with this puzzle was the vast amounts of the same colors. We would think we had all the right pieces for the fountain section, only to discover that there was a tree in the corner with the same shade of green. We would find ourselves searching for one missing piece with a focused intensity that surprised all of us. We would stay up late and neglect our responsibilities in our attempt to locate the missing piece.
Earlier this week, I realized that I am missing peace. In my life, I am missing peace. I find myself to be feeling a bit blue, a bit out of sorts and easily unsatisfied. I find myself wandering around seeing all that needs to be accomplished, but finding no motivation to begin a task. Overwhelmed at the vast amounts of the same color in my own puzzle. Daily tasks that never change, laundry that is never finished, shoes perpetually not on the shoe shelf. Instead of looking at the big picture that is my wonderfully blessed life, I am focusing on the little pieces that make up that life. And sometimes, those pieces are hard to find and don't always fit into the right place. Those little pieces aren't my whole life, but part of the big puzzle that makes up who I am and what I am all about. It takes some effort to step back and see the whole picture.
I have been so focused on making all the pieces fit in exactly the right spot that I have missed what I am hoping to build at the end. What I am hoping to build is a life well lived. Children well loved. A marriage well preserved into old age. A life full of love, laughter, friendship and a deep abiding faith. A life of peace.
When we finished that cow puzzle, we stepped back and looked at what we had accomplished. It was quite pretty, even if the subject matter was cows. We didn't see all the tiny pieces interlocked. We saw the whole picture. The little pieces were all needed to make the picture complete. Missing even one would have ruined the whole thing. So all the little pieces that I find myself focusing on and stressing over are a necessary part of my whole. They all fit together to make me who I am. But instead of spending all my energy on making them fit, I need to be taking a step back to see where I am in the process of building my puzzle. Building my life. Maybe when I learn to do that, I will find that missing peace.
Earlier this week, I realized that I am missing peace. In my life, I am missing peace. I find myself to be feeling a bit blue, a bit out of sorts and easily unsatisfied. I find myself wandering around seeing all that needs to be accomplished, but finding no motivation to begin a task. Overwhelmed at the vast amounts of the same color in my own puzzle. Daily tasks that never change, laundry that is never finished, shoes perpetually not on the shoe shelf. Instead of looking at the big picture that is my wonderfully blessed life, I am focusing on the little pieces that make up that life. And sometimes, those pieces are hard to find and don't always fit into the right place. Those little pieces aren't my whole life, but part of the big puzzle that makes up who I am and what I am all about. It takes some effort to step back and see the whole picture.
I have been so focused on making all the pieces fit in exactly the right spot that I have missed what I am hoping to build at the end. What I am hoping to build is a life well lived. Children well loved. A marriage well preserved into old age. A life full of love, laughter, friendship and a deep abiding faith. A life of peace.
When we finished that cow puzzle, we stepped back and looked at what we had accomplished. It was quite pretty, even if the subject matter was cows. We didn't see all the tiny pieces interlocked. We saw the whole picture. The little pieces were all needed to make the picture complete. Missing even one would have ruined the whole thing. So all the little pieces that I find myself focusing on and stressing over are a necessary part of my whole. They all fit together to make me who I am. But instead of spending all my energy on making them fit, I need to be taking a step back to see where I am in the process of building my puzzle. Building my life. Maybe when I learn to do that, I will find that missing peace.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Seasons
I love living in a place where the seasons change. In each season, I find something to look forward to and to enjoy.
In the summer, I look forward to flip flops and pool days. As a teenager, I lived my life in the guard chair watching over swimmers as they played in the sun. In the fall, I look forward to the crisp autumn air and the color bursts of the leaves. As a teacher, I loved the beginning of the school year, the return to routine and the promise of new students. In the winter, I look forward to the first snowfall. The first really big snowfall. One that covers all the trees and blankets the world in quiet stillness. In the spring, I look forward to the awakening of the world. We have woods behind our house and I love looking out and watching as the trees start waking up from their winter slumber. First the lower level of our annoying and yet pretty honeysuckle trees, then the taller locust trees that fill our backyard with their tall trunks and spotty shade.
Every spring, I am always struck at how much our lives resemble the seasons. Sometimes, we are living in a summer experience. Happy, laid back and loving life. Other times, we are bursting with colors so vibrant that others around us take notice. And sometimes, we are in a dark, dull winter. Wondering if spring will ever come. But it always does. No matter how hard the winter days are, spring always comes. Slowly but with confidence the flowers push up the hard dirt, the grass begins to get greener and the birds return to nest and begin new life. Sometimes, we have to experience the winters in our lives to recognize the awakening of spring.
This is me. Choosing to wake up. Choosing to come alive after a dark winter. Pushing up through the dirt and becoming something colorful. Something alive.
In the summer, I look forward to flip flops and pool days. As a teenager, I lived my life in the guard chair watching over swimmers as they played in the sun. In the fall, I look forward to the crisp autumn air and the color bursts of the leaves. As a teacher, I loved the beginning of the school year, the return to routine and the promise of new students. In the winter, I look forward to the first snowfall. The first really big snowfall. One that covers all the trees and blankets the world in quiet stillness. In the spring, I look forward to the awakening of the world. We have woods behind our house and I love looking out and watching as the trees start waking up from their winter slumber. First the lower level of our annoying and yet pretty honeysuckle trees, then the taller locust trees that fill our backyard with their tall trunks and spotty shade.
Every spring, I am always struck at how much our lives resemble the seasons. Sometimes, we are living in a summer experience. Happy, laid back and loving life. Other times, we are bursting with colors so vibrant that others around us take notice. And sometimes, we are in a dark, dull winter. Wondering if spring will ever come. But it always does. No matter how hard the winter days are, spring always comes. Slowly but with confidence the flowers push up the hard dirt, the grass begins to get greener and the birds return to nest and begin new life. Sometimes, we have to experience the winters in our lives to recognize the awakening of spring.
This is me. Choosing to wake up. Choosing to come alive after a dark winter. Pushing up through the dirt and becoming something colorful. Something alive.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Taking Flight
I am a better version of myself when I am writing. It doesn't matter if I am writing a journal entry, a letter to a friend, a book or a to-do list. I was made to express myself through the written word. I am a more honest person when I write. If you get a note from me, know that you are getting a bigger piece of my heart than you would be getting if we were talking face to face.
I have found my journals to be a cranky place to be lately. My entries are filled with the same complaints and frustrations that I found myself writing about a year ago. So, I am taking flight with this blog. Jumping way out of my comfort zone in an attempt to witness some forward motion in my life. I am not sure if anything I have to say will make any difference to anyone but me, and I am thinking I might be ok with that.
Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, I am testing my wings here. We will see what happens.
I have found my journals to be a cranky place to be lately. My entries are filled with the same complaints and frustrations that I found myself writing about a year ago. So, I am taking flight with this blog. Jumping way out of my comfort zone in an attempt to witness some forward motion in my life. I am not sure if anything I have to say will make any difference to anyone but me, and I am thinking I might be ok with that.
Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, I am testing my wings here. We will see what happens.
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