(now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

In the middle of my lesson on adding fractions with like denominators, a timid little third grader appears at the back :::very aware that she is in big-kid territory::: She presents me with a bright yellow paper. I take it, and with a rush of relief she bolts out the door. I tell the kids to begin in their practice book as I steal away to my desk to read my mystery note. Inside, written in black ink and surrounded by smiley faces, is the best thing I’ve heard all week:  

“Do not let your peace depend on the hearts of men; whatever they say about you, good or bad, you are not because of another man, for as you are, you are.”

                                                                                 Thomas a Kempis

Thank you to the people who encourage me, not with compliments, but with truth.

realizing today that a single heart breaks in pieces, and those pieces crumble further, until its such a gritty mess that we have no choice but to come to God; hands full and extended with evidence of pain, begging for him to do some kind of miracle so we can remember our whole selves again.

Today I decided to have a little tea time while the kids were away at Spanish. The sun’s coming in just right (is it the blinds positioned most perfectly, or this incredible weather that can’t help but show itself to the indoors? I don’t know, but what’s happening is glorious). I pull ee Cummings out of my bag; the trick that gets me through most Fridays. At this point in the week I am desperate for solitude… longing for something that goes on easy… aching for exhale. Well, today weekend rehab came early. Cummings and I had a tea date, and amidst my steaming derjeeling, the white-yellow light, and the most perfectly chosen words you ever read, 

I found rest.  

i have found what you are like

        i have found what you are like

        the rain,

                (Who feathers frightened fields

        with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

        easily the pale club of the wind

        and swirled justly souls of flower strike

        the air in utterable coolness

        deeds of green thrilling light

                                      with thinned

        newfragile yellows

                          lurch and.press

        -in the woods

                     which

                          stutter

                                 and

                                    sing

        And the coolness of your smile is

        stirringofbirds between my arms;but

        i should rather than anything

        have(almost when hugeness will shut

        quietly)almost,

                       your kiss

On my way to work this morning I was replaying last night’s message in my head. I was convicted the moment I saw the title on the notes the greeter handed me. It was a message on the tongue. My back gets tense when I think of the standard God holds us to in regards to the words that come from our mouths… and how often I give in and miss the mark. Daily! Hourly! One minute to the next! Words just fly sometimes. I say a lot of good, encouraging things, but I just as often let negative words flow… and that matters (a great deal) because people remember the critical. And the Lord will not compete with our free flowing mouths. The point is for us to wait on Him to say things through us, as vessels… so often I find that I never needed to open my mouth in the first place (even if it was to say something I thought was helpful).  Ha, suddenly I can hear No Doubt’s melodramitic heart song begging “Don’t Speak.” But here’s the real kicker, a verse that  I think I’ve avoided my whole life up till last night, God makes a mandate: 

“If anyone considers herself religious”

that’s me, God

“and yet does not keep a tight rein on her tongue, she deceives herself”

but God, I try!

“and her religion is worthless”

(silence)

 ”religion that I accept as pure and faultless is this: to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”   James 1:26

He picks me up, brushes me off and invites me to rest with him awhile– hard lesson learned. But most of all I’m glad to be taken care of by a God who shows his love through boundaries.

I can smell success in today.

On my way to work I found myself actually thanking God for the traffic– an extra 40 minutes to be with him in the morning. Time with Him is so precious, and when I get it I find myself feeling relieved, relaxed and so grateful.

Where would I be without you Lord?

It is so good to be reminded that the Lord wants the best for us. He wants us to feel and to feel good;  it’s what our society considers the “simple things” that when experienced, prove to be the most fulfilling: the breath in our lungs, the sand at our feet, the wind at our back. God does not leave out the details. He is sure to bless us even in the unexpected, unanticipated joys that represent the simple things in life.

Simple yet powerfully significant… that’s you God.

L o n g four day weekend. We had fun. Foot washing and all. 

There is nothing like a good wedding– where you can relax, and without a shadow of a doubt know that it’s going to last… that no matter how quirky the two personalities, they are perfect for each other.

This weekend I was reminded that ninety-nine percent of the time it is not about me. It’s so easy for me to sit back and be a critic. As a spectator I have the advantage of saying, “well, I would have done it this way.” When attending an event, what is the point of even thinking beyond the present circumstance into how it could have been better? Or, how things could have been done? What I, as a guest, would have liked to have happened is irrelevant because I am there for the show. Such is life, the majority of the time. When people say that weddings are all about the bride, believe it, because it’s true. Parties and events are expressions of the ones who are celebrating, or if they are surprise parties they are expressions of love by the people who did the planning, and if they are extravagant dinners they are expressions of the host’s feelings for the guest. Too much analysis so often on my part. And who asked my opinion anyway? It’s time for me to stop ”showing up” and feeling the need to do a mental assessment. I go to class and rate my professors’ lecture, I go to church and pick apart the sermon, I go to a movie and think of how the plot could have been better. I am starting to think if I’d just rid myself of the constant compulsion to critique, I’d be a lot better off; I could actually enjoy the motions of being a passive spectator… of being a guest, as opposed to an assessor. Sometimes I gotta just hop in the boat and the let current float me downstream without letting it know if it has or hasn’t met my dubious standards.