How listening can help you find what you were made to do

Running a very wet half marathon last April with my husband and daughter

I love to run. When I am able, I like to set aside an hour, or longer, to run on Saturdays. I settle into the rhythmic pace. My muscles warm up. I breathe deep and think, "I am made to do this."

Instantly, I reject this idea.

My thoughts sneer at me, "You'll never win a race. You're slow. How can you even think that you are made to do this?"

It is true that I've never won a race. And that I only ran on the junior varsity of my high school cross country team. It is also true that I am the slowest in my family. Yet, I feel good when I run slow for 4 to 8 miles.

My body instinctively knows that I am made to do this. However, because I'm slower than others, I dismiss this innate sense of what I was 'made to do.' My head rejected this urge based on the interpretation of the data.

It is true that I am slower than many others but that doesn't make it true that I am not suppose to be doing it.

As quick as a pain reflex, my mind concluded that I wasn't made to do this based on comparing myself to others: I am not fast, and I haven't ever won a race. Therefore, I cannot say that I am made to do this.

These thoughts reveal an underlying assumption that it is only worth doing things when you are better than others. Plus, an assumption that it is particularly worth doing if you will win.

These assumptions cause me to look to others, or to a standard, to define my significance rather than what I am suppose to be about in my life.

Though I know that it is unwise to compare myself to others, I hadn't realized until now that in comparing myself to others I was dismissing clues to my calling. I was overlooking these almost imperceptible urges  about the true callings of my life.

How many other clues have I missed?  What else am I believing that it is not worth doing unless I am first? Unless it is big? Unless others will notice? Unless I have a chance at the gold medal?

Not everything that we were made to do will win a gold medal.

But it is hard to embrace this. It is hard to 'run' a pace that my husband can walk. It is hard to be the one who gets the whole family to go for a run but then I am the last one home. It is hard to run consistently and still be so much slower than my husband. It is hard to jog a steady pace and have walkers out-pace me.

It is also hard to hear the small, quiet voice inside of you telling you what you were made to do, especially if you aren't first. Especially if you never win a blue ribbon. Especially if everybody else is better than you.

But it is worth it to listen to the clues.  To learn what it is that we were made to do. To find the works that He prepared in advance for us to do. (Ephesians 2:10)

I need to stop looking at others. Stop comparing. Start listening to the clues about what the true callings of my life are. Even if I will never win a race.

What about you?  Have you missed any clues to your calling?

Join us in the comments and share your thoughts.

Also linking with Jen at SDG.

Broken toys, broken necklaces, and broken hearts

There are some children who have come to my house. Quite unexpectedly. They have climbed all over me and down into my heart. At first I cried for me and all the changes and the sacrifices for me. The inconvenience.

I knew the right thing was to say yes. Like-minded peace we had, he & I. But once the shock wore off, my heart screamed nooooo.....this is too hard. I want my nominal Christian life back.

But once I was inspired by one of my mentors who has gone before me and walked the way long. Who has shared her life and broken it.

She said, "it is a high calling. It is worth it. I would do it again in a heartbeat." What an opportunity to be able to impart Christ to another. What a chance to die to myself.

At first, I cried for me. Now, I cry for them. Broken axe. Broken bracelet. And broken hearts.

There are stained mattresses. But this is what I can see. And we are to fix our eyes on what is unseen.

Broken hearts, climbing all over me. Worming their way deep down in my heart.

Don't know about them. But I know I will never be the same again.

At first I cried for me and our broken plans, broken toys. Now I cry for them. The broken hearts.

These brave souls. Who have climbed into my life, climbed over me, and way down deep into my heart.

In a moment. In a twinkling of an eye -- our lives are changed in the most unexpected of ways.

Amen.

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Linking up with Imperfect Prose.

How can I cook the chicken, when there is a world that needs saving?

There are orphans that need adopting.

And I need to thaw the chicken.

A woman fell out of her wheelchair & broke many bones. And I'm only trying to recover from a twisted knee.

There are starving children in Peru, Guatemala, and Africa. Maybe even in my backyard. 

And I'm thinking, "Thaw the chicken, so I can cook the chicken."

There is a terribly talented woman who had seven consecutive number one hits. She was only four years older than me. Didn't want to end up like another terribly talented one. But she did. So sad, the lack of peace that talent brings.

But there are thousands upon thousands who don't have the full Bible in their native tongue.

Yet,  I need to call the Emergency Room about the bill for my twisted knee. And I'm also wondering how I'm going to get rid stuff so there is simply a place for the 50 people we invited  over to our house for a  party.

And... I need to thaw the chicken.

Meanwhile, there are orphans waiting for their forever families, superstars who seemingly didn't die in peace, quiet neighbors who struggle to get by every day with basic needs, and people who need to hear about Jesus for the first time.

And all I can think is, "I need to cook the chicken. Call about the ER bill. And organize the stuff around here."

So I escape to my computer because I don't really want to cook the chicken, or call about the bill, or organize the stuff. I'm reminded about the orphans, the cruise ships, the publishing deals, the stars that have divorced or died or received 6 Grammys, and the people who need the Bible in their native tongue.

And here I am escaping from my simple responsibility of cooking the chicken. Reading blogs. Instead of cooking.

Oh, eventually I'll cook the chicken. And deliver the casserole. Hopefully on time.

There is this compelling urge that there needs to be more than cooking chicken, delivering casseroles, and rehabbing my knee. It pales in comparison with adopting orphans, and all the other service that it seems others are doing.

And yet, here I am. At the computer again. Thinking about the chicken...instead of doing what I know is right...

How will I ever be able to save the world, if I can't even cook the chicken?

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Linking with Jen @ Finding Heaven and her Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood community that she has created. Click on over for some encouragement in the context of belonging.

Make new friends, keep the old (Part I)

Kindred spirits

Lately, I have been having a hard time. I have been missing my old friends. The friends that have been close for most of the years that I have lived in Tennessee. You see, about three years ago, God called my husband & I and our four children to a new church.

It took about 6 months from the call to make the transfer but here we are three years later. Still at the new church. Called and transferred. Planted.

We are still loved. Oh, so still loved and cared for by the old church. We stay connected as much as we can. When we get together, it is almost as if we never left.

My laugh-out-loud, Jesus passionate friend

But, it is not the same.

I don't see them every week anymore. I don't know the details of their lives and they don't know mine. I see the big prayer requests and I pray. They pray for mine. If I called and asked for help, they would be here in a heartbeat. I even occasionally have moments of daily life interaction because I haven't moved across the country or across the state. I am in the same house across the city.

But... I am across the city.

And we -- my friends and I -- are all in that middle stage of life doing all the work. Our lives are very full with jobs, and with children, and with taking care of parents and other family members. Our lives are full. For that I am so grateful.

I have so much to be thankful for.

The next generation of friendships

But this living across the city, going to a different church; it is not the same. As seeing them Every Week. And sometimes more than once-a-week.

I need to be careful or I can get in a woe-is-me kind of attitude. Why haven't they called? (Because of course I don't ask when is the last time I have called them? I don't usually see it from that perspective.)

Friend visiting causes us all to get together

As a new friend reminded me this weekend, embrace the change. You don't want to hinder the work God wants to do in the other person's life because you have been holding on to them too long. And so it reminds me of the song I learned in Girl Scouts:

"Make new friends, but keep the old

One is silver and the other gold"

I have never known for sure which one is silver and which one is gold. These old and new friendships. But they are both precious. The old friends: we have walked many paths together: early marriage, having kids, watching your child go into brain surgery, miscarriages, band gigs, State Fairs, Bible studies, recipe exchanges, talks on the phone, Clash parties, parents dieing, sickness, Anne-a-thons, selling Discovery Toys and Creative Memories, New Year's Eve parties, birthday parties, salsa, long Sunday afternoons hanging out together, Far Out Fridays, tears, crying, and just everyday-living together. So much life. So thankful.

And yet this new set of friends that God has uniquely called together. This new bunch of home-school moms walking out this life together. Answering my desire to have friends close by that it is easier to get together with. That inspire. That are walking out this home-school thing right here in my neighborhood.


But... I had wanted it to be the old friends. Right here. Right next door. But...it is not how God has planned it. He has asked me to embrace the new. Embrace the multiplying ministry in my life; in their life.

Embrace the new because really I am doubly blessed. Doubly enriched to have all these deep sets of friends.

But I have been mourning the loss of daily living. So many things have happened that I have wanted to share the details with. Oh, we'll get together soon and share the details -- as much as possible in an evening. In some ways, it will seem as if no time has slipped by. Those are amazing friendships.

My loyal, quiet, steady do anything for you friends

But it is not the same. This walking life out not as closely as we once did.


And I noticed in Genesis how much Joseph wept upon seeing his brothers and his father. He wept a lot. He wept a lot just before saying, "You intended this for evil but God intended this for good." (No evil intent in all this...just God...intending for good.)

And so it seems to me that there can be weeping in the midst of embracing the new. Embracing the call God has upon my life. And so my weeping doesn't have to mean that I'm not embracing the change in my life.

My crazy mama (her self-dubbed name)  life of the party friend

I am reminded that it is oh so good to miss them -- these old friends of mine-- terribly. It is not the same as packing up all of my belongings in my little blue car and being thankful to be leaving. Not shedding a single tear of departure there. Instead I rejoiced; so glad to be leaving. It was not hard to say good bye then. And now 20 years later, I am in touch with no one from that year of my life -- that hardest year. The place that I shed no tears upon leaving.


Ahhhh, but the old church. I have shed many tears upon not seeing you every week.

And that is a good thing.

It means the ride's been worthwhile. It is only for a little while that I have this sorrow. And really in heaven...I will get to spend time with all of them there.

So perk up little heart, it will be okay.

* * *

Linking up with Company Girls.

Lured by Acceptance

It began one night many years ago.  I was the new kid, invited by a friend.  We were playing games, separated on four teams.  "That looks easy. I'll win, for sure," I thought.  I was the first one on my team to play.  The players were to run around the circle and into the middle to win points.

The whistle blew and I ran.  Before I knew it, they were awarding points for first and second place to two other people; I was last!

Uh-oh.  I dreaded walking back to my team.  The team with the most points would go home with a reward. I had earned none for my team; now no one would like me.

I was confident that I would hear, "Loser!"   Or "why does she have to be on our team!"

Instead I heard different words. "Good job!"

What did I just hear? Yes, he said it again.  My team leader had said, 'Good job!'  None of the kids rejected me either.  I was welcomed back to the team.  Then the leader turned and began to cheer for the next player.

Even more than being astonished that I came in last, I was shocked that they told me good job when I didn't win. 

The lure had begun. Two simple words embodied acceptance not based on performance. Two simple words breathed life. They spoke loudly to my seeking heart.

It was that acceptance that drew me to Christ. And it is that acceptance not based on my performance that keeps drawing me back in again.

I often stray. I want to perform. I want to do good for Him.  I want to be the best in my flesh. I don't revel in boasting in my insults, in my weaknesses, that in me the only good is Christ. The old me doesn't really like that. No, not at all.

But once again when I am a puddle on the floor, fully aware of my desperate need. Then I am ever so grateful again to be drawn by that amazing merciful acceptance not based on my horrible performance.

I am accepted before the foundation of the world. Not by works of righteousness that I have done but according to His great mercy, He saved me.

And He breathes life again.

I am accepted. We are all accepted based on His performance, not yours. Not mine. But His.

May we all breathe deeply of His life breathing Words.

May you find life, grace, and refreshment in Him,
Kathleen

What about you, do you have a story of when you were lured by Acceptance?

Linking up with Jen at the SDG Sisterhood. Click on over for more great reading.


Linking up with Rachel at Home Sanctuary.

Scrapbooking & Contentment

Putting together a photo order so that we can each scrapbook!

This past weekend I went scrapbooking. I dusted off my tools and my pictures. I hauled my gear an hour away from my home. I set up my stuff on a table and focused on getting child number three's baby book finished. And now she has photos of herself in a dedicated book from birth until one year old, just one month after her ten year old birthday. Woo-hoo!

I was in the midst of kind-hearted women. We ate when we wanted to, slept if we wanted to, and all of us worked on our albums. There was chit-chat about our pictures and the memories that they hold. There were movies and music and working on our albums.

And here in this atmosphere of kindness, I still felt pressure. It certainly wasn't coming from anyone else. We didn't even spend much time looking at each other's stuff; we were busily focused on our own projects.

And yet, we glance. I saw the seemingly large stacks of page layouts they were getting done. The amazing amount of craft and beauty. My pages were much more simple. I worked much more slowly.

And I found myself needing to remind myself that I was making the book for my daughter. And she would love the album. She has been waiting for the album for a long time. She won't look at anyone else's album. Only this one that I created for her.

Why is so hard not to get caught up in comparing myself to others? Wanting these other scrapbookers, most of whom I do not know, to come and be impressed with my pages?

Isn't it fascinating that I needed to remind myself who I was making the album for? There was no external pressure about this. I sure seem to fight a lot of internal pressure. Where does it come from? And why so strongly?

As I thought, "I'm making this my daughter. She will love it.", I began to be content. I remembered my focus, my calling.

And truly I was right. My daughter loved the album. Actually the whole family delighted in the album, these pictures of welcoming sweet number three to our family.

Those other scrapbooks that made me feel pressure, they've faded but not the women that created them. I remember their friendly faces. Their encouraging words. Their adamant invitation that I join them at their monthly crops. I remember their kindness.

The stacks of more work that "they" seemed to get done went by the wayside when the oldest said, "Wow, it looks like you accomplished a lot."

May this internal, ridiculous pressure go away once and for all!

Surely, I will yet learn the secret of contentment.

...for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances...I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation...Philippians 4:11, 12

How about you?
Can you relate to feeling inward pressure that is not really there externally?Or do you just think I am crazy? Do you have some secrets to share about learning to be content?

The Secret of the Heron

It was the last day of summer. It was sunny with a few scattered clouds and little wind. The smells of river-water, sun & mud wafted through the air -- outdoor fresh with a hint of fish. The bugs were cricketing with a buzz, buzz and a cheep, cheep.

We sat on the hard rocks. We began to sketch nature observations into our new journals. Great and silent across the river sat the patient fisher bird. Our heron friend that we often see at this bend in the river stood in the water. Waiting.

We took turns gazing at him through the new pair of binoculars the thirteen year old received for his birthday. We could see the heron's open mouth and the detail of his gray-blue feathers.

I saw splashes and bubbles. There must be fish nearby. I hoped to see the heron make a catch, if only we waited long enough.

There was a bright blue sky. Above the green-leafed trees with their faint yellow-rimmed edges, the jet roared. Its explosive sound interrupted the serenity and quiet beauty of our "secluded" spot. It was then that I also noticed the cars thundering over the cement, metal bridge a half-mile away.

The contrast of the images jarred me. But it didn't jar the heron, or the birds, or the bugs.

The heron stood just as focused on finding a fish for its dinner. The birds chirped just the same. The bugs kept on buzzing away.

They didn't even flinch.

Yet, I was interrupted. I heard the jet. I heard the cars.

The noise reminded me that I belong to a culture of to-do lists, of places to go, and of accomplishments to achieve. But I didn't want to be reminded just yet about the world to which I would soon return. The to-do lists that are never finished were left back on the kitchen counter for a reason!

I longed to package this moment and bring the peace back into my "real" life.

What was the secret of the heron? How could it be undisturbed by all the noise? Was it numb to it? Or was it focused on its calling: its need for dinner tonight?

Then, I realized that the jet was not disturbed by the heron either. It didn't even know the heron was there. But the bird didn't care if it was noticed by the jet. The jet wasn't striving to be noticed by the heron. Each was focused on its own purpose.

The jet sure would look silly wading in the river to catch a fish. Likewise, not even one person on the jet could climb upon the heron to get to their destination.

I must begin to realize that it is just as silly for me to try to pursue someone else's calling as it is for a jet to wade for fish!

My calling is to be here in this moment with my children. I need to climb over the rocks and down to the water's edge far away from my respectable to-do list and into this moment. Oh, I shall need to return to the many listed responsibilities. . . but for this moment I need to collect shells and to throw stones in the river, and simply let God's creation soak deep down into our souls.

No, I am not transforming the world with technology or amazing speeches. I am not making headlines or any kind of monetary contribution to society or even to our small household. But. . . I am making a difference in the lives of these four children. And this is my calling here and now in this short season while they roost here with us.

And that, my friends, is the secret of the heron: Know your calling. Your unflinching, undisturbed calling that keeps you fishing for dinner in the midst of a jet-roaring world.

Have you found your focus, your calling in life?
If so, has it helped you to maintain peace in the midst of chaos?

Linking up with Jen at Finding Heaven today.

Thirteen

For the day my first born turned thirteen 2 1/2 weeks ago

Thirteen years.

Thirteen is an unlucky number, or so they say,

But not for me

Because thirteen years ago today

My dream came true

I became a mom

Thirteen years from now

I will be a mom whose children are all grown

How dare they come and

Change my heart, my home, my life

And fly away so soon

Yet that is their calling

And my calling too

To help them become

Who they are called to be

And in the process

It changes me

Changing diapers, making meals

Teaching fractions and phonics

To say please and thank you, too

Reading books and saying prayers

Tickles and laughter and outbursts of tempers

Theirs and mine

And I am changed

Holding their hands, holding their hearts

As they change

To become who they are called

To be

And in the process

It changes me

Thirteen

* * * * * * * * * * * *

How about you?

Has a recent milestone made you reflect upon your life?

And/or what advice do you have for us

for these upcoming teenage years?

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p.s. Linking up with Company Girls at Home Sanctuary. Check it out HERE.