I Talked to God at Starbucks

Sunday afternoon, in a deserted downtown that wasn’t mine, God leaned out of a Starbucks window to smile at me and assure me that everything was going to be ok.

For decades my mother has been collecting holiday decorations of every kind. As the seasons change so does the décor of my parents’ home. There is quite the organizational system of boxes and timing to make sure everything is displayed appropriately for each festivity.

Every season is sweet. Although there is a lot, nothing is overdone, and each piece is lovingly displayed to bring the viewer joy. Each holiday is made special and the house presents itself as an open invitation to celebrate with family and friends.

Halloween has its own special place. When Nannie and Poppa became grandparents, their friends, the other grandparents, suggested a special gathering of grandchildren at my parents’ home for Halloween. They wanted their grandchildren to see Nannie’s wonderful display of ghosties, pumpkins, witches, bats and spiders, too. Delighted to entertain, Nannie’s Trick or Treat was born.

It is a charming afternoon of sweet treats around the kitchen table, oohs and ahs over the decorations adorning every flat service and available hook, a yard full of inflatable cats and pumpkins, crafts around my father’s childhood bunny table, the great leaf pile, trees to climb, a piñata and treasure hunt. The big moment is when the children line up for the costume parade and early trick or treat at neighbors’ homes. It is lovely, good fun for all.

It was after this wonderful afternoon with my parents, my children and my beloved extra parents (our family friends) and their grandchildren that I drove into that line at Starbuck’s to get the pumpkin spice latte I knew I would need to get me the two and a half hours home.

The children were already settled into their video in the back seat when I placed my order. As I waited in line, I prayed.

God, please help us get back home safely. I know I’m tired, but I know I’ve got this with your help. It’s been a big weekend, and I’m so thankful for the many memories you helped us create today and yesterday. Please help us down the road.

It was finally my turn at the window. I had prayed, but I was still feeling anxious. The woman at the window handed me my latte, but then something was different. She leaned forward making direct eye contact with me, which I actually had to catch because I was moving on to my cup holder. She smiled the most radiant smile at me and clearly spoke to me, “I hope you have a great afternoon.”

I smiled back and said, “Thank you, you, too.” But she wasn’t done with me. She kept her eye contact until she was sure I knew she meant it. I did a double take, and smiled back at her, for real. There was a recognition from both of us and suddenly I thought to myself, “Well, hi, God, yes, thank you. I will have a good afternoon on the road.” I practically giggled as I drove a way, and I could see from the corner of my eye that she was still smiling as she turned from the window.

It was definitely a Carrie Underwood “Jesus Take the Wheel” kind of drive home, but I will forever be thankful for God’s message of love and comfort to me at Starbuck’s before I hit the road.

Dear God, Thank you for loving me and inspiring that beautiful Starbuck’s lady to lean forward just when I needed her to help me. I hope that I can be that love and light when someone needs it the most, too. Let us all be reminders to one another that we are never alone and that in that Oneness is great strength, guidance and love.

With love and light,
LT

Sticks and Stones

“Mommy,” she said to me, “’Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ is a lie.”

I paused. I looked up at her slowly, knowingly.

I said, “You’re right, Sweetpea. It is a lie, but it’s meant to try and make us feel better when they do.”

Eyes locked on mine, she nodded, and we went back to reading “A Secret Garden.”

Oh those words, those many painful words. How many have you endured? How many have you uttered?

Just today I struggled with a response to an email. Feeling justified in my response to what I thought was an unruly request, I typed with vigor. Breaking my father’s wise rule to wait a day before sending an emotionally laden written response, I at least paused and took out the snarky sentences that were hidden between the thoughtful ones. I pressed send feeling rather pleased with myself.

Alas, I did not anticipate the response. I thought surely I had executed a clear explanation of reason. It was not accepted, and I was sharply rebuked. Ouch. More emails. Oh, no…wait stop…more words.

Dear God, Help me use my pause button. I realize now that it has a twofold purpose, and I’m so thankful you gave it to me.

When people send me ugly words or say ugly things towards me, help me to pause. Help me breathe before the sting of their poison sinks in. Instead let me wrap myself in the shield of your love and protect myself from their mistaken choice of message. Let my response redirect them and bring about relationship verses confrontation.

And also, when tempted to speak or write first, please Lord, please help me to pause. Please help me to recognize the power of my words. Help me remember my sweetpea and her realization that words do hurt. Help me to choose them wisely and help me to understand what words to share with others and which words to keep to myself.

Forgive me. I know I will fail time and time again to live fully into these requests. But God, help me be strong in my attempt and send me those gentle (and not so gentle) reminders. I am ever thankful for your presence and guidance.

With love and light,
LT

Just Be Nice

My friend Lisa’s request of her children growing up was “just be nice.” My ears perked up when she first shared this with her cheerful smile and loving laugh to our weekly Bible study. With all the responsibilities of parenthood weighing upon me with my small children, I was somewhat relieved to hear words of wisdom that seemed to both simplify and set such high expectations all at once.

Yes, let’s be nice. Let us be kind.

Sometimes I’m not nice. It’s quite frustrating. I know I’m doing it. I know that I’m crossing a line I don’t want to cross, and darn it, I cross it anyway. I complain. I snap. I fester. Why, why, why is it so hard?

After church and lunch with my family this afternoon, I had the great fortune of attending the graduation ceremony at Lausanne Collegiate School. Kanya Balakrishna, a 2005 graduate and the founder of The Future Project, was on hand to deliver the commencement speech. She’s quite impressive.

She challenged the graduates to write a “life sentence,” something that would guide them from this day on (for life). She explained that the world would work to define them by talent, gender, skin tone and more but that their individual passions could help to combat the box in which the world may trap them. She asked each of us, graduates, faculty and staff, family and friends alike to consider our own life sentences.

At eight years old, hers had been to change the world. Her life sentence had been redefined a bit over the years, but regardless of the goals and ambitions she had set at other points in her life, she had ultimately come back to this life sentence created at the age of eight.

Kanya is changing the world. She’s changing it through a different path than she expected to follow, but she is changing it for the better every day.

As she was speaking, I already had my life sentence echoing in my mind. I didn’t need the sixty seconds of silence Kanya offered to craft it; it was already ringing in my ears.

“I want to be light and love in the world so that every person I meet may recognize kindness.”

So easy to proclaim in my head. And then Kanya says, “Now, I want you each to take a moment to tell the person sitting next to you your life sentence.” Eeek.

I knew I was supposed to say my life sentence to the person on my right. I was nervous. He said his. I said mine, but I added, “I try, but I know I fall short.” I knew he would know.

I do fall short, but I do want to fully live into my life sentence. It would be my greatest joy to live that sentence to the fullest. I sometimes think I know what it will take and sometimes I get confused. I know I’m not the only one that struggles with this challenge.

I do believe that I can bring light and love in this world. I know I can show each person I meet kindness. It will take vigilance. It will take practice. It will take more than me.

This morning the choir sang one of my favorite anthems by John Rutter with words from a Sarum Primer prayer, “God be in my head, and in my understanding; God be in mine eyes, and in my looking; God be in my mouth, and in my speaking; God be in my heart, and in my thinking; God be at mine end, and at my departing.”

For hundreds and thousands of years, people have been dedicating themselves to kindness. I find great comfort that they also asked for help; they also knew who would provide them support and strength.

Thank you God for the constant reminders of our callings. Thank you for the gifts of voice and song that inspire us to live fully. I pray that I can open my heart fully to you so that you will be in my thinking and speaking that I may share your love with the rest of the world.

#Godislove 

 

With love and light,

LT

When God Shouts At You

Children love a good joke. I especially love the ones they make up themselves. My baby sister had a particularly great one about a turtle and a bucket that made no sense whatsoever, but it made us laugh just the same.

One of the first real jokes I can recall memorizing is one that continues to provide me deeper inspiration today. Here goes…

It started to rain pretty heavily in a small town. Seeing that the waters were rising, a man climbed onto his roof to wait out the storm. A man in a rowboat came by and asked the man if he wanted to come along with him. The man on the roof shook his head and said, “The Lord will provide.” The man on the rowboat shook his head and rowed away. An hour or so later as the floodwaters had continued to rise up the side of the house, a man in a motorboat came along. He asked the man on the roof if he wanted to come along with him. The man on the roof shook his head and said, “The Lord will provide.” A few hours later the water was lapping at the man’s feet on the roof. A man in a helicopter came by and asked if he wanted to come along with him. The man on the roof shook his head and said, “The Lord will provide.” Within the hour, the floodwaters took over the house; the man on the roof was swept away, drowned and died. He found himself in Heaven face to face with the Lord. He said to God, “Dear Lord, why am I here. Why did you not save me?” And the Lord said, “What else did you want me to do? I sent you a row boat, a motor boat and a helicopter.”

What a difficult battle we fight. We’ve been given these amazing brains, hearts and bodies; these amazing abilities; these amazing gifts. How incredible and fulfilling it is when we use them. We dare to believe…to believe in ourselves and to boldly make a difference in the world around us.

But, somehow, there always seems to be a but…something that nags at us.

But is this what I was called to do? Am I living fully? Could I be doing more for others? Could I be happier? Could this be easier?

Sometimes the light shines so brightly we can’t help but bask in God’s glory knowing that all is right in the world. We give great thanks. Other times, we wonder…are we on the right path? It sort of feels like it, but sometimes things seem quiet…too quiet.

And so, let me introduce to you the blessing of God shouting. Maybe it’s not really shouting, but it seems like that because if you’ve finally gotten yourself centered, thoughtful and quiet enough or into a tizzy of white noise, you might begin to hear or to notice hints being thrown your way. It might start to feel like shouting.

In the last week, God has been shouting at me.

The radio show asked, “What are you waiting for? When are you going to start writing?”

A daily meditation I read reflected, “Are you living into your calling? Are you writing?”

A church friend (or two) asked me, “When are you going to write your book?”

A young person preached my own words back to me without knowing I had shared them in the first place, and several friends and readers texted or emailed me to let me know.

My beloved mother-in-law questioned me, “Have you been blogging, writing down your thoughts?”

So what is it about living life that still leaves me wanting? What have I been waiting for…that rowboat, that speed boat, that helicopter? Is God sitting there stumped wondering what it will take to inspire my gifts to use?

How many life rafts will I need before I drown? Drown in my own self pity because I won’t listen. Drown in my own unhappiness because I’m avoiding something that brings me joy and fulfillment but is hard and takes time. Drown in my dissatisfaction because I feel like I’m not being the full me I was meant to be.

These suggestions do not mean total change, but there is always room for adjustment and improvement. I’ll take it. I’m blogging today.

How is God shouting at you?

With love and light,

LT

Walks with My Daughter

One weekend several months ago, my daughter kept asking me if we could take our dog, Birdie, on a walk. As you can imagine, as full-time working parents with two elementary-aged children, our weeks and our weekends tend to have a lot of activity to coordinate. Although a walk with Birdie sounded really nice, there were a lot of other projects that “just had to be done.” Abby didn’t give up though, she would just ask me now and again, “Can we go on that walk with Birdie?” “Mommy, when are we going to walk Birdie?”

I remember standing in the kitchen between trips to the laundry when Abby walked up once again and sweetly asked, “Mommy, can we take Birdie on a walk?” I think I sighed and with a somewhat frustrated breath said something about all of the different things we needed to get done and apologized for how busy we were. Her shoulders lowered a little, and she said, “OK,” while walking away. For the first time, I had looked at her when she asked me about walking the dog. I stopped and asked her, “Abby, do you really want to walk the dog or is it that you really want to talk to me?” My little nine-year-old looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said, “Both.” Teary-eyed Mommy immediately dropped everything and said, “Let’s go now!”

Thank God, I finally listened. As much as I love my dog and walks with her, there were so many “things” that needed to be done over the weekend. There just didn’t seem to be time. But this wasn’t really about walking the dog; it was about my daughter. If I had stopped long enough to be honest, I would have realized there is time for it all. The “things” are not totally important, the ones we love are.

Thank God, I finally listened. Abby asking me to walk the dog that day felt like some sort of request for child entertainment akin to can I play with glitter, can I make this 98-step jewelry kit that requires a hot glue gun, can you take me to Chuck E. Cheese, etc. I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t paying attention to the way she was asking me. I didn’t realize that Abby didn’t know how to say, “I need some time with you to talk.”

Thank God, I finally listened. My little girl needed to establish a way to connect with me that included her unique independence while gaining some perspective from a trusted source. I didn’t think about how a walk with Birdie and mom would give her special time to talk during a fun activity that both took off the pressure of a sit down heart-to-heart and also didn’t include little brother and daddy.

Thank God, I finally listened because she still asks me to go on walks with Birdie.

My own daddy, who worked more hours than I can imagine took time to walk to the end of the street and back with me and my sisters when he got home before the sun set. We all remember the watermelon swing, the trampoline at the end of the street and the turn back up the hill. We still call him to talk because he listens.

Dear God, Sometimes we really need to stop and listen. Please give us the strength and compassion to do so with our whole hearts. Thank you for this great gift!

With love and light,

LT