Hello, 4 a.m.

Yes, it's another of those mornings. I went to bed last night with one thought pertaining to sleep on my mind: Gotta get some, catch up that lost hour, maybe even more. 

Wrong. 

This year, daylight saving time has really taken its toll on the little hamster that lives inside my head. Part of it could be that my body is run-down from fighting sickness all winter. It could be stress (I've got lots of stressful situations to pick from). I believe, though, that it's a combination of these in addition to the "what if" component. 

A friend of mine calls it awfulizing. That's pretty much what happens, too. I think that it's a vestige of my old lifestyle - where my mind imagines all kinds of things that could happen in any given situation, then plays out that scenario to the final conclusion - usually based on my fears of what might happen and my core beliefs about what I deserve. 

The thing about that whole process is that it is focused on a period of time I have no control over: what happens next. 

The future has always been a specter for me - the unknown - replete with black robes, scythe and that maniacal grim-reaper's grin. I've spent most of my life trying to control whatever outcomes pertain to me and to my loved ones. It is an illusion of course, and it wastes a whole bunch of energy. 

Still, the clock mocks me with each blink of the colon between the hour and the minute - 4:00. In the morning. Toss, turn, think, pray. By 5:00 I suspect I won't be getting back to sleep; by 5:30 I'm sure of it.

So I get out of bed, slip on my bathrobe and pad out into the kitchen. I set the timer on the microwave to go off in about 90 minutes - and I head to the computer to write. 

Writing clears my head, helps me to make sense of what is going on inside of me. 

"Sunrise at First Sight" courtesy of Keattikorn at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

My thoughts dwell on upcoming events, schedules and plans for those. It surprises me how much I have on my schedule.

Another thing that looms large is my family - specifically my kids. With one expecting surgery in the next few weeks, and another making tentative plans to strike out on her own, I find myself wondering what will happen, being concerned about possibilities that I can't influence: outcomes that - as much as I want to - have nothing to do with how much I fret about them. 

I pray. I tell Him all about it, leave it in His hands. 

I choose to let go. Again.

Day dawns inside of me, sunlight evaporates the mists of worry. 

This is a matter of trust, not of trying. 

I relax. I come back from the foggy realm of 'what if' - return to this specific twenty-four hour period - and leave the phantom of 'tomorrow' alone. 

'Today' looks a bit brighter as a result.

The power of liking

I wrote an article on a blog of mine yesterday (not this one) - and in my internet Mail Inbox this morning was an email from the site telling me that someone had "liked" my article. 

My eyebrows raised; my interest factor spiked. "Who?" I wondered. I clicked on it and found that not only did someone like it, that person started following the blog! Further, I had no idea who it was; the individual had just been browsing and stumbled on my site ... and liked what I wrote.

Hm!! 

I got this graphic from
this site on how to insert a FB like button

"Liking" is very powerful. There is an innate human need to be affirmed, to be approved of, to have contributions appreciated. That's part of the appeal of social media sites like facebook. It feels good to be acknowledged and appreciated for what you think or believe. Or what you've done. 

It's amazing how just a "like" on FB or an encouraging comment on a blog can lift my spirits. There are times when I wonder if I should even bother continuing, and then someone will like my link to this (or another) blog when I post it on FB, or they'll give me verbal or written feedback, and then I'll rethink my rethinking. Again. 

Liking is powerful in another way too. Knowing that someone enjoys my company - especially someone in whose company I feel safe - goes a long way toward whether I have a grumpy day or one filled with gratitude. Today someone came up to me and put an arm around me and squeezed. That person doesn't normally do things like that - at least not to me. But that show of support really made my day, because I'd been feeling isolated even though I was in a crowd of people. It was good to know someone thought enough of me to tell me, to show me. 

It reminded me to make a point of giving feedback, especially positive feedback. Do you know why most people in "helping" professions (psychologists, pastors, social workers, public servants) burn out so frequently? They give and give and give some more, and people take and take and take. The only things they ever hear are the complaints when someone's not satisfied. Very rarely does anyone come back to say, "Thank you for such great service," - or "What you said really helped me today." 

It only takes a couple of minutes once in a while. The way I figure it, folks are really good about saying nice things about someone after he or she is dead. 

Why wait?

But I will remember

I wrote a book about 8 or 9 years ago.  It was never published - I never quite thought that it was finished, and it just lacked ... oomph. 

It sat in a file in my old computer, actually got passed along from computer to computer.  I always knew that someday I would do something with it.  Yet something felt ... unfinished. 

When I was first writing it, the words poured out of me like a torrent.  As I got closer to the point where I left off, though, it seemed ... uncertain, hesitant. It was like there was a bad taste in my mouth - like I was spewing forth poison and someone was going to get hurt.  I didn't have the first clue how to take that out.  So it sat.  The book sat, as it were, on the shelf.  I just had this sense that it had to wait.  It had to wait until I was ready.

About two months ago, it's like I suddenly knew that it was time.  Time to go back and rework what was there, take out the poison, use my current voice, take out some parts and add others, and after that, pick up where I left off.

The hesitancy was gone.  I knew where I was going with it.  

It was to be a prequel to "Get Unwrapped!" 

Source of this photo

I don't know how long it's going to take, or when it will be ready. But I'm working on it... and the words are pouring out of me again. 

The "fever" is upon me again. I laugh and cry as I write.  I remember the things I'm writing about like they were yesterday.  

With the help of all the wall calendars I've kept stashed away through the years, the memories are taking shape, firming up.  I'm getting into the groove of telling my story, remembering how things used to be, what happened, and how I got through it - or didn't, as the case may be. Even as I write, it spurs other memories long forgotten. 

And I know it's right. The poison I felt was there in 2004? - it's being expunged and in its place, compassion and truth reign.  When I left off writing it, I felt I had arrived - and now, that's no longer true.  

A lot has changed. 

I've changed.  

So I'm looking forward to seeing this take shape, to refining it, to getting it ready for publication. 

Who knows? At the rate I'm going, it might even be ready by Christmas.

Bouquets Raised

Someone reminded me yesterday or the day before of a story told by Corrie ten Boom, well-known Christian author and speaker, survivor of the Holocaust, and much more.  Her book The Hiding Place is still a must-read for those looking to increase their faith.  I just checked and yes, it is available through Amazon (there's even an e-book for under $7.00!! wow!)

Anyway, in one of her later books she tells the story of how she was led into speaking and writing, and the lessons she learned there.  One of those stories is of the trouble she had with the accolades of people who would come up to her after she had spoken, to thank her for being such a blessing to them.  She was very uncomfortable with this praise.  She thought (as do I often regarding my own giftings) that she did not deserve the praise of those people, that God deserved it instead.  Yet when she would direct their thanks to the One above, they would appear crestfallen.  She decided to pray about this, because that's the kind of relationship she had with God - they talked about everything.

She told Him about her dilemma.  And then she listened.  In the stillness of her heart she heard something like these thoughts:  "They need to say thank you.  And you need to smile and say thank you back to them.  Think of their kind words and compliments, each one as a single rose.  Collect the roses and at the end of the day, and only if you are willing, offer them up to Me as a bouquet."

Sometimes people come to me and tell me things, that they enjoy my singing, that they think I'm a fabulous writer, cook, friend (or whatever the case may be)... and for many years I was decidedly uncomfortable with this.  In a very real sense I still am.  Yet, I realize - and this has only happened in the last few years - that the hearts from which these compliments come are grateful, that they have a need to express themselves, and that I steal that from them when I seem to dismiss their words with, "Well, praise the Lord!!"  So, even though I don't do what I do FOR them, I have learned to smile and say a simple, "Thank you!"  

And yes, afterward I do give that rose to God and then tell Him how wonderful He is, how grateful I am to Him.  Call it some baby's breath to go with it.  ;-)