I am truly amazed at stick-to-ative people. I have huge desires and goals (sorta) and plans (not really) to accomplish such and such over a course of a year (which I probably will but not in the way other “planners” do). In fact, I admire my good friends Cindy Beall and Kim Heinecke for their amazing ability to set their mind to something and do it. Not only do they set their minds to it, they actually make flow charts for said somethings. I’m just not someone who can say, “I’ll do this for one year!” and then actually do it. Heck, I can hardly stick to something for a week.

I’m not sure if it’s personality, upbringing, or faults, but I have a really good track record of not sticking to stuff.

Yoga
Juicing (which is back in the kitchen now)
Pilates
Jillian’s 3, no, er, 30 Day Shred
Crafts

Now, let me clear the air for a bit. I was a piano major, so that says something. I mean, you can’t play Beethoven’s Sonata in C (which I did not play as fast as this dude), a 3 movement Bach piece, a Liszt piece, Erik Satie’s Gymnopedie No. 1, and Gershwins’s Rhapsody in Blue (which was not as good as that guy either) in one recital and not have the ability to set goals and attain them. And, you have to have something in you to do all that and perform it three months pregnant. Climbing up on to the piano bench with crackers and Sprite to hold back the vomit is committed, thankyouverymuch.

Another example of my ability to actually follow through has been in the area of journaling. I’ve been doing it since the year 2000. I have boxes of journals. Big journals. Little journals. Loose leaf journals. Spirals. But all have come with college ruled lines, because, let’s be honest, standard ruled lines are laaaame.

How about a few of the not-so-stick-to-it-issues.

#1 Exersize. Need I say  more? I do? Dang. I just can’t seem to stick to much of anything for more than two weeks. Yeah, two. Part of the problem, (I tell myself) is that I try too much too soon. Also, I use the kids as an excuse. Sadly, they are getting way to big for me to say I can’t do something when three out of the four of them can feed and wipe themselves.

#2 Art. yeah, not something I stay with. I’ll get real artsy for a season. I’ll even wax poetic and try doodles. I keep one sketch pad around just for the moments I feel like writing something that doesn’t have to be on those college ruled lines.

#4 Blogging. See date on last post

#5 Any sort of day to day plan for chores. Doesn’t happen. Each day is as different as the snowflakes I wish were falling right now.

But, as I sit and analyze my life, I realize there is plenty I do consistently that are just, well, me.

I laugh a lot, and I laugh loud.
I never tire of the rain.
I can read a 600 page novel in about three days.
I call and text those I love.
I hug my kids everyday.
I talk to Jesus everyday.
I kiss my husband every morning.
I hold my four year old until she falls asleep almost every night (and yes, I’m sure some bedtime should be enforced, but she’s only four once and I don’t want to miss it.)

I cry at injustice.

I sing for joy.

I clap for glory.

I’m great at some things, good at others, lousy at plenty, but then again, who isn’t? So after all that, what’s my word for 2012? Simple: abandon

Abandon myself from the flesh and to the Spirit.
Abandon myself from my ideas to God’s ideas.
Abandon me to Him.

Looks simple. Will take more than the wonder year of 2012 to ensure I finish this goal. Funny thing is is that I already know this goal will never be attained here on earth. Seein’ as how I’m lousy with long-term goals, that suits me just fine.

You have a word?

For the past few years, I’ve posted a Christmas story on my blog. This year, instead of posting each chapter day by day, I thought I’d just put it in PDF format. You’re welcome. No really, I have had great feedback from this story and people seem to keep coming back every year to read it. So, thank you. Just click HERE or on the Bookstore link up top.

Arianna loved Christmas, however, this Christmas would be unlike any she had ever experienced. This Christmas, God chose to give her seven magnificent gifts. All she had to do was open them.

Enjoy.

I’ve never wanted to join the army, because a) I’d look terrible in those boots, b) I’m a total wimp and c) I have no desire to try and be equal with men who are twice my size and won’t whimper at a paper cut.

However, my admiration and love for these people of our armed forces is tremendous. That admiration has tripled after watching the series “Surviving the Cut.” If you haven’t seen this, do. (Netflix). It’s an inside look at the men who try out, willingly, to go into the highest levels they can. Army Rangers, Special Op Divers, Snipers, and three other shows take you into the gut wrenching training days of these men. The drop out rates are astounding. The men who make it, even more astounding.

Yesterday, at a women’s group, we were talking about how we can default to characteristics and responses within ourselves that drive us crazy! Something happens around us and we slip back into whatever we want so desperately not to be like.

Insecure
Afraid
Resentful
Impatient
Unforgiving
Irritable
(are these just me?)

These flesh defaults leave us whipped and tired and shaking our heads at the fact that we are “here again.”  However, my friend Chris, brought a fresh perspective. She said that she was talking to God about this very thing and felt that God told her that many times coming back to those “bumps” or defaults are really an opportunity to make a different choice. Usually following a victorious season, these defaults threaten to negate all we just experienced lately with God. If we look at our responses, defaults, or negative attitudes as an opportunity to rise to the occasion, we might find we will look more like our heroes in their military training.

Let me explain.

At the end of their intense testing and training, these men are at their end. They on no longer running of fumes. They are running on the fumes of the fumes. Tired. Spent. Desperate to stop. And just when they think they can’t do it anymore, they hear they have made it.

What makes this so amazing is that when these men are at their absolute end, they are given their new name. When they have nothing left, they are standing in their mightiest strength. You see, the whole time they were getting their butt’s kicked, they knew who they were becoming. They knew that each and every agonizing trial would get them the title they were so desperately trying to gain.

We are no different. We too are working though and with the power of the Holy Spirit to become someone else. Someone who looks like Christ. We must realize that at our weakest moments, Jesus is at His greatest strength, therefore making us stand in our destiny, our calling, our Name.

When you find yourself facing yourself (or any other trial) try listening to the voice of the One who is your strength. Humble yourself to the His might and let your weakness bring you to Him.

What are you facing?

I’m one of those people who goes from deep though to deep thought, enlightenment to enlightenment. I dream of getting lost in a tiny, dark book store, or taking hours to get through an art museum. I’d rather watch a Miramax film than Disney. I stop at art books in the library and wish I was that talented. I love inspiring one-liners.

I’m motivated by enlightenment.

I’m drawn to authors like Andrew Murray, Madam Guyon, Brennan Manning, the Apostle Paul. I love the serenity of the Eastern culture, the fresh feeling of being in the mountains, the secret conversations I have with God. I eagerly wait for the next word from the Lord and ride that wave for days. I journal everything.

And it changes me.

So, would it surprise you that I secretly want to be a Yogi? But what do I do? It’s roots aren’t just a little eastern, it’s roots are full blown Hinduism so deep that that not even Round-Up could kill them.

Not my cup of tea.

Christian yoga? Hm, I don’t know. I love the way yoga makes me feel and I would go as far as to say I love what it does to my mind. However, I’ve read some pretty strong opinions about how Christians can’t engage in such things. Why, you ask? Because, basically, if we engage in the practice of yoga, we engage in the practice (to some degree) of Hinduism.

I flare up in my spirit, “You think I’m so weak that I can’t do some pretty bang up exercise and keep my faith? How dare you!”

I stop and think, “What if it does open a door for a spiritual upheaval?”

The argument is why would a Christian label a pagan ritual “Christian” and call that okay.

I argue with myself, “Why can’t yoga, being something beneficial for body, soul, and mind, not be redeemed by the true God that created that body, soul, and mind? Why do we just resolve ourselves to the idea that yoga (which means ‘unite’) can’t be something powerful for the believer? Can’t it, when used with Biblical truth, bring about another way of strengthening ourselves? Is the Spirit of God limited? Can He not use such methods, discipline, exercise for himself? Does my positioning of my body really invite the enemy in?”

These, my friends, are the questions. Do you have the answers?

Here’s a little formula I’m all too familiar with:

Me + Entitlement Mentality = Disappointment

Ever been here?

I get on these kicks where I think I know what God is going to do and how He should do it and that He should do it because we had an agreement of some sorts.

Didn’t we?

No?

Is this not about me? Hello?

So, I’m doing a new practice. Well, new to me because I’ve always been to arrogant and had it all too figured out to really pray this and think this.

I’m trying to abandon myself to His will day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment.  Praying this deep in my soul, “Not my will, Jesus, but yours.”

A feeling of resentment flitters by me. I abandon myself to Him.
A sense of entitlement because I’m a stay at home mom who deserves whatever. I abandon myself to Him.
The scurrying and striving to make sure my dreams comes to pass because they’re His dreams, right? Abandon
The fret and worry of everyday life. Abandon
The insecurities that threaten to paralyze me. Abandon
The irritation with that spill of juice…again. Abandon
The sense of being overlooked. Abandon

My life is not my own. My spiritual needs cannot be met by me, nor can they, in all honesty, be even identified by me. My future cannot be made by me. My hope cannot be restored by me. My past cannot be redeemed by me. My spirit cannot be controlled by me… anymore. The only thing I control is the degree to which I abandon and yield myself to the one who abandoned everything to save me. 

Then the formula changes:

Me + Abandonment = Glory

We grew up on a little lake in the city. With it brought bugs and stuff like little frogs. One summer’s evening, my sister, Carrie, started rounding up the little guys and wanted to see how many she could catch. They were tiny, you see, no bigger than a nickel, and in the hands on a young girl you could get like, um, one in her palm nice and comfy.

Or it should have been one.

My sister began by catching one and slightly closing her hand over it, creating a small fist around it. Next frog was then gently pushed through the hole created within the forefinger and thumb. And so was the next one….and the next one….and the…. you see where this is going.

Too many frogs in the palm of a child’s hand can cause death and grossness.

I’ve done this with my heart. I’ve caught fistfuls of sin and shame and let my heart close around it, reasoning that if I kept it in there it wouldn’t be seen. Little by little, I shoved more and more shame or guilt inside of the hole created within the grip around my heart and it became death and grossness to me.

You see, I thought I had a handle on the mess. I thought I could prove myself clean again, all the while the smear of what I forced in my heart and soul crusted the inside of me.

Once Carrie opened her hand she saw what had happened, the frogs (or what was left of them) were thrown down and she couldn’t find a sink fast enough to wash it off.

Once I let go of my grip on all that was killing me, I saw the horror of it, and dropped it at Christ’s feet. Once I opened up to Christ to redeem that which I had shoved inside, I couldn’t repent and confess fast enough so He could restore it new again.

Any frogs in your heart?

(pic: babyanimalpictures.blogspot.com)