"It's hard to be humble when you're as perfect as I am." Surely most of us have seen this clever caption, or some derivative of it, on a bumper sticker. I laugh at it most of the time. At other times, I probably judge the driver of the vehicle to be arrogant, not humble like me. In doing the latter, I am showing arrogance myself, not humility. It’s a vicious cycle.
"Humility and the fear of the Lord bring wealth and honor and life." Proverbs 22:4
God loves, defends, and provides for the humble. He loves, defends, and provides for all of us, if we let Him. But, the person who daily and knowingly works at serving Him in humility has a degree of peace, contentment, and joy, that I would like to tap in to. I'm not there yet.
Before I began writing this today, I checked Chip MacGregor's blog. He had posted a list of errors in writing that drive him crazy. I read the list one by one, my ego growing by the second.
"I don't do any of those things."
"Thank goodness I know better than that."
"Who would do that?"
Those are a few of the thoughts I had. I even began to get frustrated because I realized there are serious writers out there that submit work with those types of errors, and they get published! I go over every piece of my writing with a fine-tooth comb. I literally practice parallel construction in my sleep. I can spot a misplaced apostrophe or dangling modifier a mile away. I correct billboards while on vacation. But, I can't get an agent or editor to do anything other than send me a form rejection letter. Or, no letter at all.
That was my thought process. Then I read a rule I didn't know. This rule has been a point of confusion for some years. Chip made it very clear, though. I realized I'd probably been w-w-wr-ong. Probably.
Humility. "When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom." Proverbs 11:2
I have a lot of little issues flying around in my head right now. I think the answer to most of them is: God, it turns out I don't know everything. I need you to keep showing me and leading me. I put my life in your hands. I want to serve and please you. You know what's best for me. In Jesus' name, amen.
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves." Phillippians 2:3
Monday, June 21, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The First Four
The grandchildren on my mom's side of the house came in groups. After two a little older, I was the third grandchild, followed closely by Krystal and David, then Allison. It was just the four of us for about eight years. Then, David and Allison had a younger brother, Krystal had a younger brother, and before too long, I had a baby sister. Somewhere in there an uncle remarried and we gained two step-cousins, and a few years ago, our family grew by three more via adoption. Despite nearly a 16-year spread between the youngest cousin and myself, we're all pretty close and get along.
My mother has three brothers and a sister - Glenn, Sherlene, Larry, and Joel. They grew up a stone's throw from their aunt and uncle's home, where there were five more children of the same age - Marion, Jan, Glenda, Evelyn, and Wayne.
When I first moved to Texas and started meeting my mom’s cousins I was so intrigued by the relationships between all of them and my mom and aunts and uncles. After so many years of geographic separation, they could still walk into a room and in a matter of minutes, be swapping old stories and rolling on the floor laughing about something that happened 30 years before. I swelled with pride over being a part of such a big laughing family and always looked forward to gatherings so I could hear the same stories and be a part of it all.
I will say, it's started to wear off a little. I still love being with my family, but the newness of it is gone. I've been in an awkward position for a few years. Krystal moved to California, David married and splits his holiday time with his wife's family, and Allison lives in Mississippi. A lot of the time I'm the only one around out of the "First Four." Despite my closeness with the second set of grandchildren, I miss my three original companions.
However, the best things are worth waiting for. I have the privilege of spending a lot of time with my family - even extended family. There aren't many days that go by that I don't share a laugh or make a memory of some kind with one of the “Second Set.” So, even though things seem a little mundane, even monotonous at times, every day my second-set of cousins and I are bankrolling memories - stories for the future.
Austin is a second set, and he’s an artist and so quick-witted, I can’t help but respect him, being a pretty witty gal myself. Dylan is a hard worker who makes friends wherever he goes – who knows what kind of characters he’ll bring home for Thanksgiving one day. Brent came right before Rebekah and is my unofficial baby brother. He’s soon to be married, and as fortune would have it, his bride is my little sister’s best friend – a very welcome addition to our family table. Nathaniel is all the way over in Mississippi and I’m sad to say I don’t know him as well as I’d like to, but I know he laughs the same way David does, and that’s worth a whole lot in my book.
In a time when brothers and sisters barely make time for one another, it’s a great comfort to know that I have a place in all these different lives, and they certainly have a place in mine.
Already, on the occasions that a few of us end up in the same room, we inevitably find something to have a good abdominal-workout laugh over. A few more years of living and some great-grandchildren thrown into the mix should prove priceless.
I would say I'd like to be a fly on the wall at Christmas in about ten years, but I think I'll have an even better seat.
My mother has three brothers and a sister - Glenn, Sherlene, Larry, and Joel. They grew up a stone's throw from their aunt and uncle's home, where there were five more children of the same age - Marion, Jan, Glenda, Evelyn, and Wayne.
When I first moved to Texas and started meeting my mom’s cousins I was so intrigued by the relationships between all of them and my mom and aunts and uncles. After so many years of geographic separation, they could still walk into a room and in a matter of minutes, be swapping old stories and rolling on the floor laughing about something that happened 30 years before. I swelled with pride over being a part of such a big laughing family and always looked forward to gatherings so I could hear the same stories and be a part of it all.
I will say, it's started to wear off a little. I still love being with my family, but the newness of it is gone. I've been in an awkward position for a few years. Krystal moved to California, David married and splits his holiday time with his wife's family, and Allison lives in Mississippi. A lot of the time I'm the only one around out of the "First Four." Despite my closeness with the second set of grandchildren, I miss my three original companions.
However, the best things are worth waiting for. I have the privilege of spending a lot of time with my family - even extended family. There aren't many days that go by that I don't share a laugh or make a memory of some kind with one of the “Second Set.” So, even though things seem a little mundane, even monotonous at times, every day my second-set of cousins and I are bankrolling memories - stories for the future.
Austin is a second set, and he’s an artist and so quick-witted, I can’t help but respect him, being a pretty witty gal myself. Dylan is a hard worker who makes friends wherever he goes – who knows what kind of characters he’ll bring home for Thanksgiving one day. Brent came right before Rebekah and is my unofficial baby brother. He’s soon to be married, and as fortune would have it, his bride is my little sister’s best friend – a very welcome addition to our family table. Nathaniel is all the way over in Mississippi and I’m sad to say I don’t know him as well as I’d like to, but I know he laughs the same way David does, and that’s worth a whole lot in my book.
In a time when brothers and sisters barely make time for one another, it’s a great comfort to know that I have a place in all these different lives, and they certainly have a place in mine.
Already, on the occasions that a few of us end up in the same room, we inevitably find something to have a good abdominal-workout laugh over. A few more years of living and some great-grandchildren thrown into the mix should prove priceless.
I would say I'd like to be a fly on the wall at Christmas in about ten years, but I think I'll have an even better seat.
Monday, June 14, 2010
A Kenny Moment
**This post is dedicated to Sergeant Kenneth B. May, Jr. - Marine, coffee lover, and friend.**
A part of my renewed writing motivation is a set of goals. Within that set is a goal to post to this blog three times weekly. I've been fumbling through this day waiting for my inspiration. A few moments ago, it came.
It's summer, and I'm in a summer state of mind. I still have work to do, but the urgency is absent. I ate lunch and then remained still, which leads to grogginess. Ordinarily, I don't allow myself to have coffee after noon, as I'm very sensitive to the caffeine and it will release its power on me just as I'm trying to settle down for the night. But it's summer - and Tuesdays are my day off during the summer. Therefore, I can stay up past my self-imposed bed time on Monday nights, which means I can have coffee on Monday afternoons. And, we've come full circle.
Since I drink my morning coffee at home, I seldom have any at work unless one of the other teachers has made some. I never make it myself at work for sure. So, today, when the afternoon drowsiness came calling, I was horribly unprepared. I first went to the very front of the building I'm currently in and found a coffee pot, but no coffee. I went to a second building to get coffee and a mug, then went to a third building to search for some "fu-fu" creamer. I returned to the coffee pot with these items and went to work. The coffee pot at my disposal was a one-cup Mr. Coffee model, whereas the filters were for a full-pot model. I, of course, in my hasty greed for caffeine, ignored this fact until I had coffee in the filter and was trying to close up and hit 'on.' The oversized coffee filter was hanging over the edges. This had to be corrected. I found a pair of dainty, children's safety scissors and began to trim away at the coffee filter. I was in a moment of great concentration when Kenny arrived.
For a second he was still here, and momentarily I thought ahead to when I would have the opportunity to share this little anecdote with him. I won't be able to in this lifetime. But I know he saw it all the same, and not only is he getting a kick out of it, he might be impressed with my resourcefulness. I was always impressed with his.
In the summer of 2004, I had just moved to East Texas. I had left my whole childhood and social life behind me in Idaho. My cousin and best friend, Krystal, and her boyfriend, Kenny, were my new social circle. I don't recall why, but the two of them were at my house early on a weekday. Kenny was working nights at the front desk of a local hotel and had just gotten off work. The three of us decided to make breakfast. Out came biscuits, hash browns, and whatever else the bounty of my parent's well-stocked pantry and fridge offered up. I wasn't a regular coffee drinker yet, but Kenny definitely was. My dad drank instant (goo!), but we did have a coffee maker and coffee, but no filters. Kenny, who also worked in the restaurant business, went to work crafting a filter out of paper towels, and I remember thinking how clever it was, and it worked, too!
Too often, people put away the things that remind them of those they've lost, they neglect the activities they once shared. Maybe they're scared to have a moment as I did while brewing coffee today. As for me, I'd rather have a candid split second of vivid, poignant memory, followed inevitably by tears, than a lifetime of premeditated recollections ushered in by flashbacks to a funeral.
Krystal, who in time became Kenny's wife, received very wise advice from her pastor in California following the news of her loss. Paraphrased, he told her to carry out the plans she and Kenny had made - they might have to be altered a little, but they didn't have to be cancelled altogether.
I eventually started the coffee and came back to my office to start writing this post while it brewed. When I returned to pour a cup I habitually picked up the bottle of creamer and gave it a good shake. The lid wasn’t closed tightly and creamer flew from one end of the room (incidentally, the pastor’s office) to the other. I cleaned it up with another oversized coffee filter and set my mug behind me on the pastor’s desk. Of course, there was more creamer on the bottom of the cup and it was now congealed in a nice ring atop the pastor’s desk. One more coffee filter, and a chuckle – it was just the sort of domino-effect comedy of errors that Kenny would appreciate.
Our loved ones live on when we remember to enjoy the things we enjoyed with them. They stay with us when we allow ourselves to laugh at something they would have laughed at. And, they are honored when we strive to be a little better person because of the things we learned from them. These are all evidence that the person lived, and left a legacy.
Kenny, I look forward to many more cups of coffee with you.
A part of my renewed writing motivation is a set of goals. Within that set is a goal to post to this blog three times weekly. I've been fumbling through this day waiting for my inspiration. A few moments ago, it came.
It's summer, and I'm in a summer state of mind. I still have work to do, but the urgency is absent. I ate lunch and then remained still, which leads to grogginess. Ordinarily, I don't allow myself to have coffee after noon, as I'm very sensitive to the caffeine and it will release its power on me just as I'm trying to settle down for the night. But it's summer - and Tuesdays are my day off during the summer. Therefore, I can stay up past my self-imposed bed time on Monday nights, which means I can have coffee on Monday afternoons. And, we've come full circle.
Since I drink my morning coffee at home, I seldom have any at work unless one of the other teachers has made some. I never make it myself at work for sure. So, today, when the afternoon drowsiness came calling, I was horribly unprepared. I first went to the very front of the building I'm currently in and found a coffee pot, but no coffee. I went to a second building to get coffee and a mug, then went to a third building to search for some "fu-fu" creamer. I returned to the coffee pot with these items and went to work. The coffee pot at my disposal was a one-cup Mr. Coffee model, whereas the filters were for a full-pot model. I, of course, in my hasty greed for caffeine, ignored this fact until I had coffee in the filter and was trying to close up and hit 'on.' The oversized coffee filter was hanging over the edges. This had to be corrected. I found a pair of dainty, children's safety scissors and began to trim away at the coffee filter. I was in a moment of great concentration when Kenny arrived.
For a second he was still here, and momentarily I thought ahead to when I would have the opportunity to share this little anecdote with him. I won't be able to in this lifetime. But I know he saw it all the same, and not only is he getting a kick out of it, he might be impressed with my resourcefulness. I was always impressed with his.
In the summer of 2004, I had just moved to East Texas. I had left my whole childhood and social life behind me in Idaho. My cousin and best friend, Krystal, and her boyfriend, Kenny, were my new social circle. I don't recall why, but the two of them were at my house early on a weekday. Kenny was working nights at the front desk of a local hotel and had just gotten off work. The three of us decided to make breakfast. Out came biscuits, hash browns, and whatever else the bounty of my parent's well-stocked pantry and fridge offered up. I wasn't a regular coffee drinker yet, but Kenny definitely was. My dad drank instant (goo!), but we did have a coffee maker and coffee, but no filters. Kenny, who also worked in the restaurant business, went to work crafting a filter out of paper towels, and I remember thinking how clever it was, and it worked, too!
Too often, people put away the things that remind them of those they've lost, they neglect the activities they once shared. Maybe they're scared to have a moment as I did while brewing coffee today. As for me, I'd rather have a candid split second of vivid, poignant memory, followed inevitably by tears, than a lifetime of premeditated recollections ushered in by flashbacks to a funeral.
Krystal, who in time became Kenny's wife, received very wise advice from her pastor in California following the news of her loss. Paraphrased, he told her to carry out the plans she and Kenny had made - they might have to be altered a little, but they didn't have to be cancelled altogether.
I eventually started the coffee and came back to my office to start writing this post while it brewed. When I returned to pour a cup I habitually picked up the bottle of creamer and gave it a good shake. The lid wasn’t closed tightly and creamer flew from one end of the room (incidentally, the pastor’s office) to the other. I cleaned it up with another oversized coffee filter and set my mug behind me on the pastor’s desk. Of course, there was more creamer on the bottom of the cup and it was now congealed in a nice ring atop the pastor’s desk. One more coffee filter, and a chuckle – it was just the sort of domino-effect comedy of errors that Kenny would appreciate.
Our loved ones live on when we remember to enjoy the things we enjoyed with them. They stay with us when we allow ourselves to laugh at something they would have laughed at. And, they are honored when we strive to be a little better person because of the things we learned from them. These are all evidence that the person lived, and left a legacy.
Kenny, I look forward to many more cups of coffee with you.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Look at the ant
I don't know what to write this morning - I only know I want to write. That's refreshing, as it's been some time since I felt words pulsing in my fingertips. My natural creativity often slinks back and stays silent, intimidated, even exhausted, by the seeming importance of parent letters, web revisions, board meeting minutes, and ho-hum e-mails.
Several months ago, my pastor taught a message about keeping your personal walk separate from your ministry. God always knows what we need. I always knew I needed to take care of my personal relationship on some level, but I wasn't practicing it. A pretty important part of living for God is helping, serving and ministering to others. That's indisputable. However, it's very difficult, nigh impossible, to help others if we don't seek strength for ourselves daily.
I was praying and studying, of course, but the time I spent for my personal growth always seemed to be done in preparation for praying for someone else, or teaching a lesson. Should we pray and study in that manner? Absolutely. But, should we also make time every day to just have a personal talk with God about our own growth? Yes. That's what I was missing.
I find the same is true for my writing. I use the talent and skill I have for a bunch of other things, which is fine - I'm supposed to. But, I let those tasks fill my writing shoes. I have four goals every day (minimally): pray, study God's Word, write, and exercise. For too long I have let my mundane daily writing tasks, those listed in the first paragraph, slide by as "writing." I go to bed at night and mark things off my mental to-do list and allow "parent policy revisions" to ease my conscience over not nourishing this precious gift from my Creator. This is not acceptable.
You lazy fool, look at an ant.
Watch it closely; let it teach you a thing or two.
Nobody has to tell it what to do.
All summer it stores up food;
at harvest it stockpiles provisions.
So how long are you going to laze around doing nothing?
How long before you get out of bed?
A nap here, a nap there, a day off here, a day off there,
sit back, take it easy—do you know what comes next?
Just this: You can look forward to a dirt-poor life,
poverty your permanent houseguest!
Proverbs 6:6-11 The Message
I'm not claiming to be lazy, but I'm not working as hard as possible every day for my writing, either. "You have a full-time job, Rachel!" Yes, I do, but there are a lot of writers with full-time jobs that still make time for their passion. That's what this is about - whether I ever publish or not, writing is my passion, my outlet. I owe it to me to make time for it every day.
Several months ago, my pastor taught a message about keeping your personal walk separate from your ministry. God always knows what we need. I always knew I needed to take care of my personal relationship on some level, but I wasn't practicing it. A pretty important part of living for God is helping, serving and ministering to others. That's indisputable. However, it's very difficult, nigh impossible, to help others if we don't seek strength for ourselves daily.
I was praying and studying, of course, but the time I spent for my personal growth always seemed to be done in preparation for praying for someone else, or teaching a lesson. Should we pray and study in that manner? Absolutely. But, should we also make time every day to just have a personal talk with God about our own growth? Yes. That's what I was missing.
I find the same is true for my writing. I use the talent and skill I have for a bunch of other things, which is fine - I'm supposed to. But, I let those tasks fill my writing shoes. I have four goals every day (minimally): pray, study God's Word, write, and exercise. For too long I have let my mundane daily writing tasks, those listed in the first paragraph, slide by as "writing." I go to bed at night and mark things off my mental to-do list and allow "parent policy revisions" to ease my conscience over not nourishing this precious gift from my Creator. This is not acceptable.
You lazy fool, look at an ant.
Watch it closely; let it teach you a thing or two.
Nobody has to tell it what to do.
All summer it stores up food;
at harvest it stockpiles provisions.
So how long are you going to laze around doing nothing?
How long before you get out of bed?
A nap here, a nap there, a day off here, a day off there,
sit back, take it easy—do you know what comes next?
Just this: You can look forward to a dirt-poor life,
poverty your permanent houseguest!
Proverbs 6:6-11 The Message
I'm not claiming to be lazy, but I'm not working as hard as possible every day for my writing, either. "You have a full-time job, Rachel!" Yes, I do, but there are a lot of writers with full-time jobs that still make time for their passion. That's what this is about - whether I ever publish or not, writing is my passion, my outlet. I owe it to me to make time for it every day.
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