Awake, My Soul

Awake, my soul, you were born to meet your maker!

Such a beautifully sung lyric from Mumford & Sons. And though it can seem to point to thoughts of death or heaven, for me it’s a call to today. I think for a fuller understanding, it might be better to even say “you were born to KNOW your maker”. Simplistic, I know. But sometimes it’s the simplest things I seem to miss from day to day. Those two thoughts, though – the call to our souls to rise from their sleepy state and the knowing of our maker – are so inescapably linked.

CS Lewis said, “If I discover within myself a desire which no experience I this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

I think we all feel it at some point in our lives. Some know it more frequently than others, some spend their days trying to silence it, and we may all label it differently, but it’s a universal tugging at something in us. We survey the world around us and one word just reverberates in our hearts and heads: MORE.
How many days go by that I spend not recognizing my maker’s call? How much time, effort, money and self-focused passion have I invested into trying to answer that deep, intrinsic insistence for more? And how many times will I return to my knees to understand that the very one who created me, and that call, is the only one that can answer it? Countless, I’d say. Thank God for grace.
We can plunge ourselves into the pursuit for earthly greatness, even achieve it, perhaps, but in the deep recesses of our hearts the question, the longing lingers. It may come softly, in the quiet moments. It may come as a deafening shout at the pinnacle of our earthly success. Yes, He created us for great things. Oh, that we may never forget that the greatness is defined by HIM, to please HIM, to reflect HIM, for the increased-knowing of HIM.

Psalm 57 voices the same call as the lyrics above, “Awake, my heart!” and what I truly love is what follows a couple lines later: “I will wake the dawn with my song”. That’s not a whispered life. That’s the unabashed boldness of a life of exaltation! That’s our joining in creation’s ever-present song, because it’s a life being lived as it was intended – not driven by its own agenda but by the freeing reliance on the plan of the Creator.

The full-bodied, wonderful answer to that Call for More will come when we do meet Him. Its why, I agree with Lewis, we’ll never find our full satisfaction here. All the better motivation for the journey He’s set us on. Pursue the heart of the one who made you and you’ll find within him those things that stir your soul – we aspire to creativity because He is creative, we seek beauty because He is the author of what is truly beautiful, we long for adventure because the bravery, courage and fearlessness it requires is what He asks from and promises to those who trust Him. May we not lose sight of the creator in pursuit of His creation. May we instead, in our confidence, wake the dawn with our song, the swelling refrain of a heart that is finally awake.

My heart is confident in you, O God; my heart is confident. No wonder I can sing your praise! Wake up, my heart! Wake up, o lyre and harp! I will wake the dawn with my song.

I will thank you, Lord, among the people. I will sing your praises among the nations. For your unfailing love is as high as the heavens, your faithfulness reaches to the clouds.
Be exalted, O God
- Psalm 57: 7-11

Letters and Launch Pads

This week, I've entered into a new project in my life: I have a pen pal. Well, more like a crayon pal, since he mostly likes to doodle and watercolor instead of write. Good thing he has a super-cool mom to help him with those tricky letters and sentences! His name's Tavin, he's just about my favorite 3 year-old on the planet and I'm lucky enough to call him my nephew.

Its not an usual thing for me to reflect back on my childhood - savoring memories is somewhat of a hobby of mine. While they're beautiful and wonderful treasures, they can also keep me from living in the present. Last week I thought back on how much my aunts and uncles meant to me as a kid. They took me places, gave me their time and energy. They were genuinely my favorite people, the sunshine to my young existence. I realized that my cherished memories of being a niece had not yet manifested themselves in my life in me being the Great aunt that I so long to be. Sad to say, while I love my nephew to the moon and back, I haven't devoted as much of myself as I would've liked to this relationship. I figured this realization was the perfect motivation to be the one to create the memories, experiences and the fun! And so, knowing how thrilling it was (and is) to get a letter addressed just to ME, I sent my favorite tow-headed child a letter, complete with a picture of an astronaut. To my sweet surprise, he greeted me with a letter just a few days later (his momma said he couldn't wait to mail it) and it even included a picture just for me. He and I have started something new, something I hope he can one day reflect on with fondness and love.

Its such a good, good thing to know that we can change at any moment. Time lost is not a death-sentence for our future. Instead it is a launching pad, from which we can throw ourselves, head-long and heart-full, into the kind of self we want to be. I'm so thankful for that. I'm also thankful for three-year old pen pals, water color smiley faces with pink flower noses and planning for other fun, wonderful memories waiting to be made!

What kind of memory-building traditions/activities do you do with those you love? I have a niece on the way and I'm just getting started on this favorite aunt thing! If you haven't done them yet, what kind of things would you like to do? And what can you do today to make those things happen? Create the kind of memory today that you want to smile on tomorrow!

-K

Arm's Length

Arm’s Length is a cold place to be held. Just far away enough to know that you aren’t allowed in. Just close enough to recognize the dance of niceties, tiptoeing on the line of genuineness. When you’re on the receiving end of the outstretched arm, you’re quick to recognize your position. It’s painful. Confusing. It leaves you with doubt and removes the steadiness from beneath your feet. We’ve all spent time in this shaky, lonely place.

What of the giving end, though? What of the self behind the outstretched arm that says I want you near but not too near; close enough to satisfy my personal need yet not know really know my person. Do we see? Do we know? Is this process a slow, creeping progression, or a quick, sharp movement, and either way, how often are we aware?

I’ve been struggling lately, feeling always on the outskirts of something special. Wondering what it is about me that keeps away the coveted invitations into the inner-lives of those around me. And how easy it is, and what a balm to my bruised, sinful soul, to begin the mental list of errors and faults of those who seemingly implant the distance. And then that still small voice comes in. Oh, that voice. It at once whispers both understanding and gentle reprimand. Its not them, Child.
And some part of my wounded soul knows. It knows that maybe it is I who create the distance, I who push away. What if what I receive as distance from others is only a reflection of what I offer those around me? And some part also knows that regardless of who is to blame, my Creator is asking me to look Him in the face. Like a parent who says “look me in the eye” so they ensure their message gets across. He needs me to see…

But God, I want a friend. You are mine, and there is no friend like Me.

But God, they… No Child, you. This is the conversation of your heart, and it’s about you and Me.

But God, I want them to like me. I want them to see love in you. Do you speak My peace? Do you live My invitation of love? Do you know your worth comes not from the declaration of any man or woman, but from your Creator? I know you through and through and I love you all the same.

He needs me to see that My creator called me to something better. My creator called me to stand, not with hands held out in force to keep the hurting (both the givers and receivers of pain) at bay, but with arms stretched wide in response to His love. With an open heart that says come in, see me, know my faults, see my heart, and I do not fear rejection because I am validated by the one who made me. There is no fear for those who know Him.

I’d love to say the struggle is over, that my proverbial arms won’t slowly rise to their defensive position, or my heart gather its stinging arrows of blame when injured. I can’t. But that still small voice still calls…and calls, and calls and calls. He never tires of singing His song: Child, you are mine and I love you, I love you, I love you. Live boldly because you are loved fiercely.

What a Year Can Do

My God-send of a best friend and I were chatting yesterday about the last 12 months in review. She knows I'm a touch obsessed with lists, and she has a planner which challenges her to make a different list every week (why don't I own this?), and this week's list just happened to be "list your accomplishments/achievements from the past year". She invited me to play along, and I'll admit that it was a challenge. I realized that:
a) Time can quite literally fly by you. It's something I think we all know, and yet this truth (and all its weighty implications) rarely makes it to the application stage in our daily lives.
b) Success is relative. She and I have each marked notches in our "achievement" tree this past year, but they happen to be of greatly varying depths. She was able to graduate college, got shot at and lived (interesting but true story behind her now well-touted street cred), competed in a Bioethics debate at Duke University, and marked a few things off of her life's to-do list. As I began to dig into the past year's memories and activities, I felt rather unaccomplished; no major milestones took place for me. But, the longer I thought about it, the more I came back to that humbling and comforting truth that I'm not in competition with anyone. I did great things, by my own definition, in the past year. Could I have done more? Possibly. But regret and longing for the past robs today of its energy and possibility. So, frankly, I'm just not going to go there.

All that to say, here's my list:
- I learned to bake bread
- I have learned to eat a much greater variety of vegetables and fruit
- I (along with my husband)have managed to pay for his undergrad with no loans
- I ran a 5k and a 10k
- I used my sewing machine for the first time and sewed my first craft
- I threw my first craft party
- I lost 5 pounds
- I volunteered at Mission Arlington for the first time
- I gave up soda for 4 months
- I tried kayaking for the first time (and fell in love)
- I owned a restaurant and made it to the 2 year anniversary (almost - July 5th!)

I encourage you to take a look back at the past 12 months - there are bound to be some successes, some failures, some happy moments and some disappointments, but they all have brought you to today. Maybe it'll provide a little inspiration for next year's look-back.

- Decide the person you want to be and make your choices accordingly. -

Always,
K

In everything turn, turn, turn

The thing I love about writing is it creates a snapshot in time. Of the thoughts, feelings, goals, dreams, desires, knowledge (or lack thereof) of the writer. As I look back on these writings from two years ago, I'm both comforted and set uneasy by the things I read. This brief snapshot in review shows me that in two year's time, I've made progress in ways I never would've thought, but also tells me how easily goals go unachieved when they are not prioritized. A general list:

- I am leaps and bounds improved where my nutrition habits are concerned. Perfect? Hardly. But I do make conscious, thought-out choices where most food is concerned. I've cut out an extremely large portion of my processed foods habit and I now embrace fruits and veggies with semi-open arms (hey, I'm a work in progress). I'm proud of the changes I've made!

- While I still struggle with consistent 5-days-a-week exercise, I achieved two goals I NEVER thought possible - to run a 5k and 10k - and I'm on my way to achieving a third, which is running a half-marathon in October of this year. I could write for a good while about the life lessons this running endeavor has taught me. We'll save it for later.

- I still have a garden...and I still end up killing most of what I attempt to grow. It's simply the result of lack of focus on improving my knowledge and skills in this area. I am blessed when some crops magically reappear, even after a season at the mercy of my negligent hands. Small favors, I suppose. I haven't given up on this goal, but this snapshot of how far, or rather not far, I've come in two years could just be the fire under my seat needed to push me to succeeding.

- I still own a pie shop. Its sad to realize how much of the excitement has dwindled under the pressure of bills, struggles, slow seasons of business and all-around stress over the past 24 months. Lets just say this isn't where I expected us to be. Whether because my initial expectations were ill-founded or whether it was due to a lack of something - passion, drive, ideas, etc - from any one business partner, or a little of both, we are working to move into a new season of our business. I am extremely proud, blessed and happy to report that my spouse and I still maintain an incredibly strong relationship with our best friends and business partners. This is no small miracle, and I thank God for it often. By this standard alone, we have beaten many odds. If this business ever fails but this friendship survives, I will stake my "Success!" flag and let it proudly wave.

- Crafting. Oh, what to say, what to say. This goal...well, I think it got shoved in the disaster area that is my craft room, lost in the abyss along with my rotary cutter and spray adhesive, and has since become quite malnourished. In a recent attempt to simplify the heck outta my life, there is a glimmer of hope and promise of it returning to a place of prominence in my household. Hey, I at least looked
at my sewing machine this week.

- God has taught me things, brought people and Words my way that have somewhat transformed my conversations with Him, and my ideas about what being His really looks like. Akin to the lessons learned while putting foot to pavement, these slow peeling-backs could fill pages. For now, I'll suffice it to just say "Tis' so sweet to trust in Jesus". Doesn't that kind of sum it up?

So, that's that. I'm writing again because I feel like I need to. There's nothing new I can offer the ever-crowding blogosphere, but I'm OK with that. An important lesson I'm learning in this season of my life is that I am not in competition with anyone else. God is writing His story, I'm grateful to be a part, and at the end of the day it's not about me. (And, if you think about it, aren't you glad it isn't? I think He's the only one who can handle that pressure).

Be blessed,

K.