Voices!

The night was as black as tar.  My body was sufficiently wrapped in layers like a securely wrapped chrysalis.  Warmth freely radiated out from my fragile body.  Thank goodness, it was trapped in these efficient layers of soft cloth.  The crisp coldness danced and swirled around me.  As I strolled around our loop, my eyes took in the many dwellings.  Some softly lit and others as dark as night.  

Breathing deeply, I was oddly aware that I was missing something.  Something so delicate and precious, I would need to strain to hear it.  Like a new mother on high alert, I removed my ear buds and kept walking.  On this night, I needed to clearly hear whatever it was.  My heart was in serious need of direction and my mind was searching for a nugget of truth to grasp hold of.  

Four miles later, I returned to my cozy, yellow cottage adorned with white Christmas lights in the window.  Plopping down in the chair at my electronic connection to the world, I placed a CD in the drive, closed my eyes and listened.  Instantly, I knew this what what I had been so focused on hearing.  The previous hour spent walking had been in preparation for these fresh tender words that were now being poured out so gingerly with grace from my sweet friend of 35 years.  Even if I had not understood the meaning of these words, just the sound of her voice would have brought much needed refreshment and life to my soul.  As these words twirled their way through my ear canals and into the recesses of my mind, they seemed to be on a mission.  Refusing to move, I simply sat and let them pour over me.  The cadence of her familiar voice reassured me that I was not alone.

I had to wonder if this is how my Father feels when I call to Him.  Does it move His heart the way hearing my friend's voice moved and comforted mine?  Does He pause and strain to hear my individual voice call out to Him in worship?  Does my voice make Him yearn for my company? 

As I continued sitting there, clear glisteny tears trickled down my puffy cheeks.  I did not wipe them away, but let them collect in a puddle on the desk. I embraced each word and phrase, that was spoken and allowed them to sink all the way in. They located and knit together with other words that were spoken earlier in the week. You see, it had been an extremely difficult six weeks in almost every aspect of my life, but these words were bringing into focus some of the issues.  Truly they were a gift.

Tonight, I am grateful for the gift of hearing and friends who speak sweet, life-giving truth.  May this Plank-Eyed Girl not forget the depth and beauty of these gifts.  My prayer for you is that your ears be tuned to His gentle voice and the friends who love you and speak truth.

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

Spotted Zebra and Barbies

Standing up on the bleachers, I watched as a group of junior high girls caught up with each other from the week.  They were passionately engaged in their conversation. What caught my attention was their alikeness!  They all had their hair alike. Their shirts were all the same style.  Their jeans all the same brand.  They couldn't have been more uniform if they had tried.  Not one of them stood out.  As I watched their interactions, I was saddened by their "alikeness". Certainly they didn't ALL like this style.  I was deeply disturbed to think of  the pressure to conform that most of us feel when we look at T.V. or go to the mall and are pummeled with the expectations of others for our dress, actions, or any other number of things.   Sometimes I feel like I live in a Barbie and Ken world, of which I severely do not fit.

As I sauntered away from this group of young girls, my thoughts drifted back to my first years of teaching.  I was "gifted" quite a few long "themed" jumpers.  Evidently, that was the dress of choice for teachers at the time.  The first morning I silently slide into one. I felt suffocated.  (Not physically, just in my heart.)I looked in the mirror and laughed out loud.  However, I was not sure of the protocol, so I wore it to school. This initiation into "school dress" only lasted about one month.  I was TOTALLY miserable.  Long "themed" jumpers weren't me. Never had been me.  Never would be me.  In hindsight, I can't believe I ever thought it was a good idea for me.  One morning I woke up and thought, I can't teach in these things.  This is not me!  Where are my jeans and red cowboy boots? Where are my wild leggings and funky skirts?  Where are my pearls?  Where are my shiny combat boots?

   

As today wore on, I found my mind prancing back

to the story that I had just finished in I Samuel 17. David, who was a young shepherd,  had volunteered to go fight Goliath.  Saul gave David his own armor to wear and sword to use.  This way, he would not only look like one of the men in Saul's army, but he would stand out because Saul's armor and sword were bronze.  I am sure that Saul wanted to protect David, as well as honor him.  David tried it on, but quickly realized that he was not used to this armor or Saul's sword.  So, he did the only thing he knew to do and took it off.  Donning his regular attire, he went and picked up five smooth stones.  Those were his weapons of choice.  Those were the weapons he had trained with.  Those were who he was and what he was used to.

Recently, I was asked to lead a conversation at a women's retreat. I have some own favorite speakers, that I really admire. So, when I became stuck in the writing process, I started listening to some of their messages. That was when I found myself trying to emulate them.  Suddenly,  I realized that I could listen all I wanted, but I needed to be true to who I was and how God created me.  In other words, I needed  to unite my story with His story and share it with this group of ladies in a way that was unique to me. This was a realization that relieved much of my internal pressure. 

Uniqueness Rocks!  I have been a spotted zebra all of my life.  I have never fit in a box.  My solutions to things that block my path are usually completely outside of how others would think.  I do not dress like others.  I have a funny way of looking at life.  I was uniquely created by the Creator of the Universe.  

May you find your own uniqueness today and enjoy all that is you!  May others also see God's fingerprints in you and celebrate how fabulous and generous God is to have taken the time to "think you up"!

Here's to you!  You are not alone!

~The Plank-Eyed Girl

Toplessness and Little Sisters

Going topless is always my preferred mode for driving.  Ever since my Mr. brought my little black thing home, I have enjoyed the freedom of zipping along without a covering.  It is a small fix for my inexplicable need to fly.  As the wind courses and swirls around me, it increases my ability to breath and process life.

Monday evening had a hint of Fall coolness in the air, it was no different from any other evening other than my heart was feeling squished.  I decided to go topless, so I jumped in the Miata, revved up the pistons and headed out to another meeting.  As I sped along the nicely curvy, slightly changing, tree-lined road, my heart was asking my Father to show up tonight at this meeting.  (Okay, truth be told, I was more like loudly pleading and pounding on the steering wheel.  I was being selfish because He is always with me, but I just really wanted to have Him make himself evident.) 

Arriving at the meeting, I slid in, grabbed a water and engaged in the cultural chit chat.  The meeting commenced and throughout it, I wrestled with an extremely strong, internal dialogue which questioned why I was there and told me I had "nothing" to contribute. You know, sometimes you just have to put yourself on the wall and have a talk with yourself, which is what I was attempting, but it was not getting me anywhere.  Thankfully, during the meeting, no one called on me for any kind of coherent answer, due to the fact that I was having my own party in my head.  As the meeting concluded, I thanked the hostess and made my escape out the front door.  

Sauntering down the driveway, I had the company of one of my little sisters. (I baby sat her when I was a teenager and our parents are best friends still.)  Standing out on the road, we paused and she looked me in the eyes and said, "I don't know why I am feeling compelled to share this with you, but I am."  I conversed with her over the course of the next hourish.  She spoke of the last three weeks and miracle, after miracle, after miracle of our Father's provisions for their family.  She spoke of how her faith has increased and her ability to hear His voice. She told of her immense gratefulness for so many things she used to take for granted.  She explained how her heart had been permanently changed.  Her stories made my heart dance and my eyes leak.  Her stories re-inflated this soul.  

Thank you, my precious little sister, for allowing me to hear and see God working right here and inside of you and your family.  

Sometimes one needs to go topless to re-inflate, other times, one just needs a sister to stand under the stars with and recount how God is working. 

Until we Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl