The Problem with Warning Lights…

 Have you ever noticed that warning lights on the dashboard of your car are somewhat ineffective? 

Perhaps we are to blame for this.  It seems that we either choose to ignore them, (i.e. running out of gas when your gas symbol has been shining brightly for miles) or by the time they are illuminated, it is already too late. 

For this reason, my oldest daughter, Crystal, refers to them as “Already Broken” lights, a term we have grown to hate since it usually costs us greatly.

Such is the recent case of my right rear blinker light, which burned out during a terrible storm, while I was driving down a very busy, and extremely dark road. The power was out in the area because of the storm, so I didn’t need the happy ‘lightbulb’ signal on my dashboard to let me know I was in trouble.  The blasting of horns and sound of screeching tires served that purpose well, proclaiming my problem to my fellow, somewhat angry travelers.   

And this proves my point. If anything should give you a warning light before it goes out, shouldn’t it be a lightbulb?

In most cases, though, by the time your warning light reveals itself, it is usually a culmination of the many ways we may have been ignoring the obvious.  Oil in thecar?  Antifreeze? Squealing brakes? Now that I think of it, squealing anything is usually a cry for help.  But, I guess if we turn our radios up and sing loud enough maybe we won’t ever notice, right?  

Wrong.  Eventually, everyone will notice, usually when we are stranded on the side of the road, where no one can overlook us.

The same is true with life.  What if our relationships, our jobs, our families, and our lives came with warning lights?  Would we disregard them at first, causing our small problems to explode into something much bigger?  Aren’t we always trying to be the last one across the railroad tracks, in spite of the warnings,  before the train slams through? 

I heard a story once about the sinking of the Titanic, and the number of warnings that went unnoticed.  Days earlier, a warning went out about glaciers in the area.  The ship’s Captain altered his course because of this, but other ships were transmitting warnings to the Titanic; warnings that were ignored.  Again later that night, other ships were signaling that huge glaciers lay directly in the path of the Titanic. 

At that time, the wireless operators were employed to interpret incoming signals and deliver them to passengers.  So, these messages were deemed unimportant, and never made it to the Captain.  Early that next morning, as the Titanic was sinking and those same wireless operators were desperately sending  signals to other ships in the area for help, the messages didn’t get through because their relay equipment had been turned off for the night.  

The Titanic sank in two and a half hours, but their problems didn’t start with the impact with the glacier.  It started when the warning signals were ignored.  

I keep thinking about this when I reflect on the loss of both Michael Jackson and Steve McNair. Both of their deaths could have been prevented, if they had only paid attention to the warnings. The same is true for those who loved and surrounded them.  I’m sure now they all wish they had done something to change the path of those two legends.

Sadly, they are now more legendary than ever before, just like the Titanic. They too were on a path that led to trouble. They were sinking and no one did anything to help.   

Our society tells us to “mind our own business.”  But doing nothing never helped anyone.

I think it would serve us well to recognize our own inability to pay attention to the warning signals in our lives.   We would do much better not to leave room for error, to make time to do the right thing, and to care enough about the people in our lives to help them do the same.  We should depend on each other, and not the warning lights.

We all need some accountability, and I would rather be hated for trying to do too much, than to later live with regrets. So consider yourself warned – if you matter to me in anyway, and I see you headed down a road that goes nowhere, I plan to stand in your way.  We have to love each other enough to at least try to make a difference, right?

You see, the problem with warning lights is twofold.  We can’t trust them, nor can we trust ourselves to notice them. 

Besides, by the time the warning lights come on, it may already be too late.

Life in 140 characters or less . . .

From what I understand, the latest Twitter craze works like this – people “tweet” throughout the day, summarizing whatever they are doing at that moment in 140 characters or less.   It’s like texting to a friend x 20 million people; basically removing all guesswork out of the stalking business, and giving us all a license to do so. 

On the surface, perhaps it serves it’s purpose.  But whatever happened to getting to know someone a little deeper, going beneath the surface?   

Everything is so immediately accessible these days that sometimes I wonder if we’ve taken the magic out of everyday life.

When I was a teen, we wrote notes on plain notebook paper, folding them in creative shapes to add to their mystique.  The key, of course, was to get the assistance of the entire class to deliver the note, leaving them to wonder for the rest of the day what it could have said. 

We found out someone was “in a relationship” by seeing them hold hands for the first time at the mall on Friday nights, where we all went to just to be with our friends.   Not once did we have the fear of getting shot, or witnessing a fight, unless it was at the video arcade. 

If we found a song we liked, we called the radio station repeatedly to request that song, until we could save up enough money to buy the album.  And then, sometimes we would get together just to listen to music.

Summers were left for us to fill with tender moments; baseball games and bike rides, giggling sleepovers and borrowing each others clothes, pool parties and sunburns, walks to the store for cherry icees, and and maybe even a few secret hugs or kisses under the moonlight. 

We talked for hours on the phone about the events of the day and the possibilities of tomorrow, changing our plans as quickly as we did our outfits.  But in extreme situations, when a heartbreak had slipped through and taken one of our friends, nothing worked better than a face to face encounter and a comforting hug.

Today we would call this a “status update,”  but give me a sweet memory and a hug from a friend any day.

Some moments just can’t be summarized in 140 characters or less.  Thank goodness. . .

42% Complete. . .

Birthdays.  They become our way of measuring life, or so it seems.  The world tells me that I’m middle aged, and that I should be feeling older with each step I take.

Whatever.   Though the mirror tells me a few things have changed, I refuse to let the mirror have the last word.  I will just look at it less often, so it won’t have all the power in our relationship.

Same thing with the bathroom scale.  Don’t ask.  Don’t tell. 

The truth is that on the inside, I still feel like the same girl I used to be when I would sit on the hood of my Mom’s car and watch the moon at night.  The moon always knew what to do with itself, and I wanted to be just like it when I grew up.    I wanted the world to notice what I did.  But, even if they didn’t, I would still  show up and do my job every night.

As a young girl, I couldn’t wait to find my calling and spend the rest of my life doing whatever it was God had planned just for me.   

But here I sit, just past my 42nd birthday, still wondering those same things.  I now realize that life is more about recreating yourself as needed and taking leaps of faith along the way.  It’s about the journey; not the destination.

The way I figure it, I’m just getting started.  My kids have grown up before my very eyes, and have become amazing adults.   The world is a better place because they are in it.   I love my husband and can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us.  After some major changes in our lives, it seems that all doors are wide open.  And that is a great feeling.

So, I prefer to look at it like this.  I’m not a ‘has been,’ but rather a ‘gonna be.’

So look out world!  I’m 42% complete and  have a long way to go. 

Guess I’d better get started.

The Storm . . .

Another one from the archives. I’m so glad I found it – like a long lost friend. . .

It is a beautiful, cool, autumn day. The sun is shining.  The sky is blue, and the breeze is blowing gently.

But I find myself in the midst of a terrible storm.

There is thunder and lightning all around me.  The rain is falling in turrents.  Ferocious winds have blown through the doors and windows of my house and are now tossing me about.  I used to feel so safe here, but now it seems that this is where the storm is strongest.  The very foundation of my house  is being tested for its strength.

The rain has soaked through my clothes and continues beating hard against my back.  I hold my head down because it is too painful for me to look up.  The water hurts my eyes and I am unable to see clearly.

The storm has altered everything in my life.  Everything that once had a place no longer fits there.  Everything that has happened to me before is now insignificant, because this is a new storm and it is stronger than any of the others.

It is totally out of my control.  Just when I think the winds are finally subsiding, I get knocked down once again by the fierce crosswinds.  I feel so helpless.  I silently wonder if I will survive.

There was no warning for this storm.  Even if there had been some sort of signal, there would have been no way to prepare for the magnitude of it.  There was no emergency newsflash.  No one told me I should evacuate.  No one can even tell me now what to do in order to survive.  And I’m not even sure how long this will last.  Will it ever blow over?  And if it does, will there be anything left?

The only thing I know for sure is that my life after this storm will never be the same. I will be changed forever, and so will my surroundings.

When I turn on the radio to see how others are dealing with it, I realize that this storm is not affecting their lives.  For some reason, this one has only hit my family, my house, and my life.

I have fought to survive for as long as I possibly can.  There is no shelter; no safe place for me to go.  I am exhausted from the fight.  My eyes are weary.  I realize that the only thing I can do is to give in to the power of this storm.  It is so much stronger than me, and it has lasted so long that I don’t think it will ever end. 

Just when the storm has reached it’s strongest point, I am at my weakest.  I have nothing left within me to get through.  I can go no further.  I am ready to admit defeat.

I gently lay on the foor and drop my head.  With what little strength I have left, I faintly mumble these three words.

“Hold me, Jesus.”

From deep inside of me, I recall His words.  “Never will I leave or forsake you. “

I look up to see his shadow walking towards me.  The thunder and lightning are still crashing about us.  He kneels beside me and reaches for my hand.

Through my tears, and squinting against the rain, I tell him I don’t know what to do.

He answers, “Don’t do anything.  Let me do it.” 

He tells me that he had been with me all along, but was waiting for me to admit that I couldn’t face it alone.

I tell him how scared I am.

He sighs.  “I know.  I’ve been afraid for my life before too.”

I had planned on asking him why this was happening to me, but suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.  All that was important was that I was no longer alone. 

He pulls me closer to him and turns my face toward his.  Gazing into my eyes, and waiting for my soul to answer his gaze, he says the two most powerful words I have ever heard.

“Trust me.”

I lean my head against his shoulder, and let the tears roll down my face.  Tears of relief. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of letting go. Tears of fear. Tears of anger. Tears of surrender. And finally, tears of faith.  One at a time, I released all of them.  I feel  a calm inside of me that I had never noticed before.

 

The winds are still blowing fiercely, and the rain is falling stronger than ever. The walls are beginning to crumble around me.  My house is in ruins.

I still don’t know what to do, nor when it will end.  I still wonder what the future holds.

But I rest, and know that with Jesus holding my hand, we will overcome this storm, and any others that may be waiting for me down the road.

Its true.  I will never be the same.  Maybe, because of the storm, I will be stronger.

I squeeze his hand tightly.  “I love you,” I whisper.

“I know,” he answers.

“What would I ever do without you?”

By now, his eyes were twinkling. “That is something you will never have to find out.”

I smile, take a deep breath, and wait out the rest of the storm.

Janet Morris Grimes

September 11, 1992

We need each other. . .

 A strange thing happened to me a few weeks ago, snapping me out of my preoccupied state of mind and forcing me to take a long hard look at the tougher side of life. 

It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was returning an item to the local Kmart on Harding and Nolensville.   Still in my church clothes from that morning, I was walking back to my van and thinking to myself  how much this part of town had changed and how I was ready to get out of there. 

With my head down and reaching for my keys, I was startled by someone who had stepped in front of me. 

“Hey, I remember you.  Did you go to Antioch High School?”

“Yes,” I answered, halfway smiling and halfway trying to figure out the name of the girl who stood in front of me. 

She was wearing clothes that were too big for her that had a few rips in them, and was carrying a large pink shoulder bag.  I couldn’t tell what was in the bag, but she kept it close to her side at all times, as if it contained everything she owned.  

She told me her name, and asked for mine.  Nervously, I gave her my first name only, and she said, “Great. I was just praying for God to send someone to help me, and now here you are!”   

Yes.  There I was.  Mmm, now what?

In my mind I was going back to a lesson learned at Winterfest, a Christian teen retreat, back in February in Gatlinburg.  The theme for that weekend was to “Love God; Love Others.”  During one of the breaks from the seminar and worship that was going on inside, they had secretly hired an actor to portray a homeless person to see how these “Christians” would react.

I personally didn’t see this person sitting beneath a “welcome” sign with a sign of his own asking for help. But if I had, chances are that I would do what I have done in the past – pretended not to see him or hope that our eyes didn’t meet. 

Don’t get me wrong – I try to help people, or so I thought.  But usually, it’s within some sort of program at church or by sending money through the mail or calling in during a telethon.  I suppose I would do whatever possible, as long as it didn’t put me in any type of danger. 

The teens on this retreat responded much differently than many of us more seasoned, and somewhat cynical, adult chaperones would have done.  Many teens gave money; some gave food; some wrote scriptures on a napkin and took the time to pray with this “homeless” man. 

Isn’t that what the Bible says we should do?  Apparently it does in those young and hip teen Bibles, but what about mine?

All of this was going through my mind as I spoke with this girl from high school.  As she told stories of both her brother and father committing suicide, being in and out of drug rehab, and losing custody of her kids, it was clear that her life had turned out much differently than mine.  She climbed into the passenger seat of my mini-van, talking 90 miles a minute, and quoting more scripture than I could have ever done.

She said a friend was trying to help her get a job, and she was actually supposed to start the next day.  She needed money for a bus pass and a TN state ID card, (no driver’s license) and a little food if I had any left over.

We ended up at a Family Dollar store near where she was staying with this  friend.  I told her to get what she needed, and while she looked through the store, I escaped into a corner to text my kids and tell them where I was in case anything happened to me.

She saw my phone and asked to use it, calling her friend to tell him where she was and that she would be back soon.  Apparently he didn’t believe her, and thought she may be out doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.  He wanted her to go to church that night.  She yelled at him and said she was just ”hanging out with her friend from high school” and that he should trust her. How ironic, I thought, knowing for certain that this was the first conversation the two of us had ever had.

Hanging up on him, she grabbed my arm and asked me a few questions about myself, never letting me finish any of the answers.  She did say she needed clothes for her new job, so we moved to the few clothing items they had. She quickly swayed back and forth as she walked, fidgeting with her hair as she scurried through the store.

We found a couple of items that would fit her tiny body, and then she startled me again by pulling up her shirt there in the store to reveal that she also needed undergarments.

“Yes, let’s get what you need,” I said, helping her pull her shirt down.

Filling her basket with toiletry items and a few snacks, she was thrilled and said this was one of the best days she could remember.

She asked to use my phone again, and made arrangements to meet her friend at a Walgreens nearby.  I was quietly relieved because this would keep me from going alone to a house in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and would let me use the ATM inside to get a little cash. 

She quickly got into a white pick up truck with her friend and introduced me to him.  As it turned out, this friend who was helping her was on food stamps, and they were heading to the grocery to figure out what they needed for the week.

I had been somewhat speechless the entire time we spent together, partly because I was listening, but mostly because I had no idea what to say. 

So, as she was hugging me good-bye, I managed to look her in the eye and tell her that God knew she was valuable and he would always be with her. 

And then she was gone. 

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this girl since that time, perhaps because she served as a spotlight that revealed some things in myself I’m not sure how to deal with.

Would I have helped her if she hadn’t told me I was an answer to her prayers?  Am I willing to help others even when it stretches me way out of my comfort zone?  Why did her life turn out so differently than mine?  What did I do to deserve a happy ending? 

It will take me awhile to come up with the answers to my own questions.  But in the meantime, I have figured this much out for sure.

In high school, there are unwritten rules that identify the popular kids, the athletic kids, band kids, the wild kids, and it all goes well as as long as everyone stays where they belong.  Right?

But, 25 years down the road, long after everyone has scattered and tried to find their own way to the finish line, it seems that we are all really the same.  We love God and our families.  We wonder how our kids can be in high school when it seems that we should still be there ourselves.  Some have found great success in faraway places, and some have stayed close to home.  All have been struck by the realities of adulthood, and when faced with tragedy or pain, have been somewhat amazed at our own ability to overcome. 

Maybe we are all stronger than we realized back then.  

And then, maybe there are still a few who weren’t as strong; who weren’t able to overcome on their own.  But the truth is that they too love God and their families, and are still trying their way to the finish line.  

Maybe it’s not too late for her.  I pray that she finds her happy ending.

And I’m thankful that for the rest of us, as we tiptoe into what the world would refer to as being “middle aged,” we realize that in the best of times and the worst of times, we all really need each other. 

I guess we needed each other all along.

Michigan, in a nutshell. . .

To quote a famous actor (Tommy Grimes, actually) “I could tell you all that happened in a nutshell, but it’s gonna take awhile.”

So, to summarize and shorten my reports from Michigan, I squeezed them all into one blog and removed all unnecessary words. Our story begins with me, Malloree and Crystal (who was in Nashville to celebrate her birthday) loading up our van in the middle of the night, in search of a life in Michigan.

January 22, 2009 – 2:00 a.m.

“Weren’t we supposed to leave 8 hours ago?” Can’t see out the back window. Windshield wipers not working. Bummer. Where’s Bobo? Frozen rivers. 65 mph in Ohio. Surprise – it’s Crystal! Baskin Robbins mannequins. Shivering ice sculptures. “I need backs to my shoes.” “We have to rent a motel room for our dog, but people can stay there too.” Cleaning lady takes dog. Bobo can’t figure out how to go in the snow. This could be bad.

First day at Rochester Church. Patrick Mead. Pick your verb. Do something. I like that. Long drive. Perhaps driving is my verb. Chris Lindsey. A familiar face. Josh Graves. Cute little pregnant wife Kara. Steckel. For some reason, this feels like home. But not to Malloree. Pray for her. Restaurants hiding behind snow mountains. Smoky Bowling. We stink.

School appointment. Admission test. No school uniforms. Swimming pools. Salem Rocks? 60 school buses in 4 rows – make sure you get on the right one. 6 inches of snow on the first day. Quit honking at me – I can’t see the lanes. Left turn = turn right then make a U-turn. OK. I think I’m getting it. Bumpy roads give you more traction.

To the airport. Crystal’s gone. School starts at 7: 13, Really? Not as bad as I expected, but not good either. I don’t have an accent. You do. Frozen curls – extra crispy. Locker won’t open. “Do they think I’m poor?” Ice bruise on the knee. Lonely lunches.

3 people. One king size bed. Mmm. Just a few more days. Apartment lease for one year. Is this really happening? Yikes! No furniture. Inflatable mattresses with holes. Snow covered poop garden on the patio. Oh well, at least he figured it out. Cable guy? You want cable hooked up to a 13 inch TV? It’s a long story. No Papa Johns? Cursing DJ’s. Where’s some clean music?

Back to work for a week. “Say goodbye to Mama.” Tears won’t stop. Can’t see out the windshield. No wait, my eyes are swollen shut. Driving anyway. God, you’ve got me still. Speak to me, please? Ohio again. Ugh. There’s Big Jesus at MM 29 on I75. He’s 62′ tall and coming out of the water, but I can’t decide if he makes me feel better or worse. Tired of being strong.

Lonely in Nashville. House full of furniture, but it’s no longer home. No cable or internet. What am I supposed to do? Think? How about if I play the same Michael W. Smith CD over and over again. If you dance when you are alone, is it really dancing? God this is your house. Send your buyer. Work. Work. Work. Sleep. Take out seats. Don’t get tired until all the work is done. Yeah, right. Load up again. Is this the plan?

Michigan is flat. Back to apartment, but is this home? Reunited. Time to go. On the road, 50 mph winds. Tornodo watches? Could this help me get home faster? How am I supposed to text and drive like this? Hey Truckers. It’s me again. I hope I smell better than you do.

Winter Break from School. To Gatlinburg for Winterfest. Yay! Overnight in Lexington. Why don’t they sell any Vanderbilt stuff up here? Oh well, at least they understand us. Bobo, you are going to Knoxville. 6000 teens never sounded so good. You can’t worry and worship at the same time, so worshipping is great. These are my people. Secret Fudge Club. I drove 9 hours for this fudge, and Winterfest too, I guess. Jeff Walling. Love God. Love People. Even in Michigan. OK.

Tommy to the Airport. Knoxville Airport is in Maryville. Who knew? “Smallest plane I’ve ever been on. Get me off of this thing.” To Chicago. Then Michigan. Alone. Again.

Mal on Antioch Bus with her peeps. Don’t forget Bobo. He survived. Beautiful drive. The mountains add a lot. Cookeville Walmart. Back to Nashville. Home early. Memorial Reception for Cousin Doug Wyatt. So sad, but great to be with family. Aunt Jan is coming. Good, I get to go see people.

Minor surgery for Mom. Everything OK. Feel better soon. Thankful for Aunt Jan.

Work. Work. Work. TSSAA Tournament. My favorite event. 8500 people in 4 days. There’s Tim McGraw & Faith Hill. All in a day’s work. Feet hurt. No sleep. Heart attack man is OK. Great media coverage. Whew! Power outage. Mallee making the rounds with her friends in Nashville. Winter break was perfect for her.

Crystal and Andrew – time to come home, Your year is up in Orlando. Rental truck. Tow dolly pulling Andrew’s car. Caravan = Andrew in truck, then Hayley, then Crystal. Raining. Hydroplaning. Georgia. Ugh. Almost wrecking with 15 other cars. Very scary. God wants them alive. Still. He has a plan for these people he created. Told you so. I love him for that. Thank you.

Drive all night. No sleep for them. Wonder where they got that? Home safely, but is this home? Unload the truck. Thanks Tuper and Kyle. Andrew sleeping in the floor. Been awake for over 30 hours. Put stuff in garage. This year in Florida has been great for them. They are adults, and beautiful ones at that. They have taken care of each other. I envy them. What happens next? Just don’t stop dreaming.

Antioch Church. These are our people. Alison’s baptism. Amazing. Hugs and tears all around. Lunch at Logans, even though we don’t have time. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Thanks for coming Tuper, Brittan, Sherry. We know you want to be a Grimes. Sorry. Hugs. Goodbye again. 2 Grimes in Nashville. 3 headed back to Michigan. Is this the plan?

Load up the truck. Should I take my bike? Why? On to Michigan. Weren’t we supposed to leave 8 hours ago? Bobo – time to go. It doesn’t matter where. Finally, some furniture. 4:30 in the morning? It’s freezing, and so windy, but no snow. Malloree, you can miss swimming today and go in a little later. Colds for everyone. Ugh.

The couch makes a big difference. A few pictures on the wall. I love these people. We need some friends. What day is it? I haven’t slept enough for it to be Tuesday already. I can go out looking horrible and no one up here knows it. Or do they? A pot of chili. Girl Scout cookies. Do they have Girl Scouts in Michigan? Maybe this will help it feel like home.

A few more days. Two weeks this time? Hard to leave. Back to Nashville. Wrapping up a job I will miss. Making time for friends and family I was too busy for before. Renting out our house. Please? Massive moving sale. I get to do that in my free time? Seriously?

Getting tired. Trusting God to work out futures for Crystal and Andrew, so of course I’d better trust him to work ours out as well. If God waits for us to act before he reveals his plan, then here we are “acting” all over the country. Hello?

Busier than ever. Need time to write my story. It’s all in my head, but it will matter, I promise. Waiting to fulfull my purpose. But in the meantime, I need to hit the road again. 85 hours of driving so far. Really? Maybe it’s the only way to keep me still for 10 hours at a time. Is this the plan?

If so, then thank you. And I’ll see you again soon. Can’t wait to see what you have in store.

Home is where the Grimes are. . .

Through the years, I’ve always wondered what type of Christmas traditions we have established that really mattered to the kids as they were growing up. 

But this year, facing the first Christmas that Crystal and Andrew would not be able to join us on Christmas Day, it became quite clear to all of us that our own quirky memories had grown into established  traditions with little effort on our part.  And more than anything, we didn’t have to search very far to find what mattered.

We did have the opportunity to spend a week with Crystal and Andrew  down in Florida during the week before Christmas, so that definitely made it more bearable for all of us.  The weather was perfect, although not very Christmas-like, with 8 straight days of sunshine and 80 happy degrees.

I struggled to think of what to bring them; to try and take part of ‘being home for Christmas’ to them.  It seems that all I could manage to pack were a  few ornaments from their childhood and a disturbing line of gift wrap that Andrew started in Art class one year that included a Christmas tree that was on fire and a dead raccoon laying underneath. 

The most obvious choice was the hanging mantle scarf that says “Grimes Home” and sits on our mantle each year.  Crystal was thrilled to see it, and wore it around like a shawl, proudly proclaiming that she could “be her own mantle.”

But other than these few items, we couldn’t squeeze much into our suitcases and without going over our luggage limit at the airport.

I quickly realized that being home wasn’t nearly as important as being together.   The Christmas traditions that mattered most to them were the ones that included all of us being there, wherever “there” happened to be.

We were able to get to Disney to finally watch Crystal perform.  It was amazing, and she brought tears to my eyes every time I saw her.  Knowing what she has gone through to get this far, and have the opportunity to perform for millions of people this year, reminds me that God is control and is always working on a much bigger plan than we can ever imagine.

Disney at Christmas is truly magical – after all, they don’t do anything halfway there.  The fireworks were all around us, and were synchronized to the music and told a story as well.  They also light the castle each night with icicle lights, and it’s beautiful, and you can just hear the gasps from all the kids as they turn them on.   Oddly enough, Santa kind of becomes second fiddle to Mickey Mouse at Disney, because dreams seem to come true there for the kids on every day of the year. 

We escaped to the beach one evening to catch the sun setting over the ocean.  I love that moment when the world has to be silent and all conversation ceases, because a miracle is taking place and all you can say is, “Wow!”  We were even able to see a few dolphins diving in and out of the water, as if they too were offering their praise on yet another beautiful day as the sun whispered “good night.”

But as perfect as our surroundings were, the ultimate perfection came in the day to day moments where life was as it should be.  Sitting on the patio in a conversation about whatever with Crystal; Andrew singing in the shower with his clothes on; Andrew showing Tommy around his work at Fed-Ex; walking beside the lake and being glad we don’t sleep “with our noses in our armpits” like the ducks were doing; Andrew and Malloree having Santa hat fights on the pier on the beach while the dreadlocked saxophone player tried to play sad Christmas songs; laying in a hammock next to the lake, just because we could; Malloree chasing Crystal’s float in the parade all the way to the end, so she would know how much we didn’t want it to end. 

The truth is that the entire week ended much too soon.  We weren’t ready to leave, and they felt the same way.  Christmas Day came and went, and for Crystal and Andrew, it was just another day.  They just longed to be at home . . .

And we just longed to be with them.  For us, in this particular year, home was Orlando, and it was absolutely perfect. 

Because we now understand more than ever that home is where the Grimes are. . . wherever ‘there’ happens to be.

thankful for the clouds. . .

I was driving home alone from Michigan a couple of weeks ago, after spending the weekend with Tommy.  Spending 10 or so hours on the road always gives me plenty of time to sort through my thoughts, although I tend to discover more questions than answers, it seems. 

On this particular trip, it was a sunny day, But was extremely windy.  Maybe this is typical for Michigan and Ohio; who knows?  But with the wind, came the clouds, moving briskly across the sky in an effort to keep pace with all the other clouds. 

So, on this day, my thoughts turned to the clouds.

Clouds.  I guess they are as unique as we are.  Fat clouds. Skinny clouds. Intimidating clouds. Fluffy pillow clouds. Transparent clouds. Angelic clouds. Eclipsing clouds.  Shy clouds. Steamroller clouds that don’t care who they run over.  Clouds with a purpose. Clouds that like to wander.  Clouds that follow the crowd. Popular clouds. Loner clouds. Clouds that try to go the wrong way.  Clouds that stay too long. Hopeful clouds. Threatening clouds. Triumphant clouds. Peaceful clouds.  Peek-a-boo clouds.  Goodnight clouds. Clouds that hint at trouble ahead. 

My favorite would be the Told You So Clouds -  the ones that serve as a curtain on a stage to introduce the power of the sun behind them.  To me, these clouds prove that God was in control all along, even when we couldn’t see what he was doing.

Clouds.  I guess their purpose is to beckon us to look up every once in awhile.

It dawned on me (in about my fifth hour of isolation in the car), that the sky is a good representation of our lives.  We pray for it to be perfect and without trouble.  But, occasionally our horizon is filled with clouds.  During these times, it’s difficult to see things clearly, and we long to go back to the time before the clouds arrived. 

After all, don’t we all want ‘nothin’ but blue skies?’

But when all is said and done, and trouble has come and gone, we realize that the clouds served as the perfect way to reflect the sunlight. 

And that makes me oh so thankful for the clouds, and the reminder to look up every once in awhile.  For it is there that I will truly find my answers.

Told you so clouds

A Higher Place . . .

Have you ever tried to watch a football from ground level?  It’s difficult to tell what is going on, how many yards there are to go, where the ball is, etc.  The view is distorted, so they always send coaches to watch from the top so they can communicate what is going on, so they can make better decisions.

The same is true for day to day life. Unless you take the time to go a little higher, to sit and watch from a distance, it is difficult to determine which way you are going. 

Some days leave me feeling like a mouse in a maze, and wondering if I am making one bad decision after another because I can’t see far enough to know where I am heading. Slamming my head into the wall tells me that there must be a better way.

I often wonder if God isn’t looking down on us in this way – watching what we are doing and thrying to warn of obstacles thay lay ahead, of which path to take, and hoping to keep us focused. 

One of my favorite scriptures is Psalm 61:2.  From the ends of the earth I call to you. . . Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

We are in a period of transition in our lives.  So much so, that I don’t event know what to pray for.  Our future has been in limbo for two years now, and each day brings new things to consider as we make these decisions.

So, as we search for God’s guidance as to what happens next, I’ve learned enough to know that at the very least, I should pray for God to “lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” 

Because from down here, life isn’t making much sense.

Identifying my chains. . .

Chris Tomlin has a wonderful song called “Amazing Grace.”  I listen to it on repeat often, and I think that I’m finally getting the point.

“My chains are gone.

I’ve been set free.

My God, my Savior,

has ransomed me. 

And like a flood,

his mercy reigns. 

Unending love.

Amazing grace.”

I sing this to myself all throughout my daily routine, which is anything but routine, and realized that in order to feel free from my chains, I had to identify just what it was that was keeping me imprisoned.  What is holding me back?  What have I allowed to be a chain in my life for so long now that I barely even recognize it?

So, this is my attempt to identify my chains, and finally leave them at the altar.  It’s odd, actually, because I think we get so used to the way we are, that we cling to the things that are holding us back from experiencing all that God truly wants to give us.

“You know how I am – I just have a bad temper,” or “I’m just depressed” or “I lack self confidence” or “I’m too shy.”  All of these things can be true about us, but using them as an excuse to keep from trying something new seems that we are embracing the very chain that is holding us back. 

Or maybe that’s just me.

I’ve done a lot of soul searching about this, and it’s not easy to admit my weaknesses.  But I’ve learned through the years that if I honestly lay these things out on the table for everyone to see, then Satan has one less weapon to use on me.  He can’t handle the truth, and can’t make me feel guilty for something I’ve chosen to let go of, right?

So, here you go.

I feel things very deeply, so I tend to get my feelings hurt.  And then, I never confront the person who did this, choosing to withdraw from them instead.  On the surface, I wouldn’t admit to holding grudges toward these people.  But over time, hurt feelings lead to bitterness, and bitterness leads to a hardened heart, and God has no use for a hardened heart.  As a matter of fact, he even tells us that he won’t forgive us unless we have forgiven others. Really.  That’s what it says, and it doesn’t sound very optional.  (Matthew 6:15 But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.) Ouch!

I care too much about what people think, which makes me non-confrontational and somewhat spineless.  I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news. I don’t want to deliver a message you don’t want to hear.  I don’t want to be identified as hard to deal with, and I generally want to be liked by everyone.  Where would be we if Jesus approached things in this way?

I am somewhat of a workaholic.  I never meant to be, but the jobs that I’ve had along the way involved working all hours of the day and night, and I have allowed that to isolate me.  It has interfered with me attending church at times, but it could be that God needs me at church for a reason, but I’m too tired, or too preoccupied, or too busy to attend.  Likewise, I don’t spend enough time at home for this same reason, and I’m quite sure that God didn’t create me to be a machine.

I’m a messy person. If not for the fact that our house has been on the market for over a year, my shoes would be in the floor and my bed would most likely not be made up.  There is clutter on my desk, and I could spend hours here on the computer and not even care.   I can see through the mess in my life to the things that really matter, and I hope that never changes.  But on the flip side of that, if there is too much clutter and no order, it’s like extra baggage that I carry around with me, and probably limits my ability to see the opportunities God tries to set before me.

There is so much more I could mention, but I think this is a good start.  I’m tired of the bitterness and extra baggage.  I want to be free to serve, to follow, to dream, to overcome, and to conquer.  I don’t want to look back with regrets.  More than anything, I don’t want to get to heaven one day and see all the things that God could have used me to accomplish, if only I had been willing.

I trust that my God is doing something with my life that is much bigger than I am, so it’s really not about me after all.  And with that, my chains are gone, and I’ve been set free!