Conviction

I kayaked this lake today. For work. Because, just like that, I have the World's Sweetest Job.

And I'm heavily aware that there was a time not too long ago when I had nothing but time. I had more than enough time, in fact. Enough time at least to say "yes!" to all opportunities including volunteering with the communications sector of the mega-bible church of Scottsdale, pretty confident that yes, I can edit these 120 devotions for you. No deadline? Perfect. I'll put it off. Last week, I had a goal of doing six a day, deciding by the math that I would be finished by April. Now, I think I just need to sit down one day and DO ALL OF THEM.

Why am I not a self-disciplined individual with the things that matter? I'll find time to run, you can count on that. But everything else, eh. shrug. yawn. I'll get to it when I get to it. It'll get done. Isn't that all that matters?

There are so many pockets of my daily life right now that are calling for examination. For action. And I'm trying to be brave and courageous with letting God shine that floodlight into those dark dusty corners. Not that procrastination is a demonic force or the greatest thorn in my flesh this moment. It's just the easiest one to post about.

It's just that if my life, my walk, is going to be shaped into Your Likeness, I have to look at it for what it is. And, MANALIVE, do I have a lot to give you to work on.

I just want to break free of the inside stuff that holds me back from answering clearly when asked about what it is exactly I believe that sets my life apart from the lives of all of the sun-happy people I work with. I can't just sit and watch these conversations end without profound punctuation.

I'm practicing AGAPE, I guess, is the best way to put it. Practice seeing the worth that is there in these divine encounters with these created souls, honor them by listening intentionally, and love them by communicating well how much GOD LOVES them. Praying for words only when they're necessary.

I'm scared of screwing up. That's all.

Ahh, GRACE. What a LOVELY thing.

Mothers

Leave it to my mom to give me jewelry that tangles easily.

I'm sitting at my now clean desk in my now clean room (except for the bags of trash that accumulated in the process) trapped in a cleaning frenzy. The jewelry box mom gave me last year full of trinkets she doesn't wear anymore caught my eye. So I opened up the little beaded black container and now, an hour later, I'm manically pulling delicate chains from earring wires from dangling stones from a wrist watch wrapped in a string of pearls. I don't even know how these things happen? I think there is a very tiny community of dancing fairies who's sole job is to create mayhem in places that are neglected.

Clearly the dust I've kicked up has gotten to my head.

All I know is that it was time to remove that uber-cheerful Beth Moore picture. And what a better motivator than mom's crazy jewelry that I'll probably never wear either. Especially since I know those crazy fairies will twist all of this meaningless untangling right back into a useless bejeweled ball of frustration.

But thank goodness for crazy mothers and their crazy jewelry and the messes they've helped create on our own journeys to craziness. I wouldn't trade it for anything, is the truth. So. There you go: A Declaration of Forgiveness.