What’s in your fall wardrobe? Have you picked up any cool pieces that will give you an updated look? Soft suede boots? Warm tunics? A cool tote? A military jacket? A bottle of Essie polish in warm fall hues? How about in the back – are there some outdated styles, something that never quite fit right?
Ever since I first read C.S. Lewis’ Narnia chronicles when I was about nine, I’ve been banging on the back of wardrobes, just in case. Just in case, I slip into someplace magical, just in case an adventure awaits me inside, just in case I could meet Aslan face to face. I’m currently reading The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe for maybe the twentieth time. I’m simultaneously reading Everything by Mary De Muth. Fate would have it as I reached page 100 on Everything, DeMuth begins talking about “the wardrobe”. “Once they’ve (the Pevensie children) committed to Narnia, they embark on an entirely new journey that will change them from the inside out and readjust the way they look at the outside world. God-initiated healing is that way. He brings us, if we dare, to a new place, but it’s not a familiar place. And in that outside-of-our-comfort-zone spot, He woos our attention, shows us our past in light of His viewpoint, and sets us back on our feet again to have new adventures.” Everything by Mary DeMuth What’s inside your wardrobe this fall? How about in the closet of your heart? Reach back far. What is smushed on bent hangers between the clothes you rarely wear? A broken friendship you were never able to heal? A conflict you’re avoiding? Regret? Self doubt? A decision you’d rather not make? Something you need to fess up about? Something you need to let go of? What’s waiting in there that you need to face? Take it off the hanger and put in the donation pile. Hand it over to God. You do not need to wear it anymore. It doesn’t fit the you God created you to be, and it doesn’t flatter you. Let it go. Open the door to God’s magical wardrobe and give him all the outdated, misfit garments of your soul. It’s necessary to clear them out to find the warm coat He has waiting just for you on the back peg. Now that there’s room, take a few more steps; breathe in the crisp smell of freshly fallen snow. Dare to trust a robin or a faun or anyone offering you genuine love and company and wisdom. Avoid those who seem too good to be true, who offer you power, status and all you can eat Turkish Delight. Instead journey further up and further in until you meet God right where He loves you the most. Ditch the things of the past that were never made for you, and enjoy the warm folds of his embrace. Come back recharged, realigned, ready to move forward in your real life, a little less concerned about this world, and feeling a little more self-stylish. “Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it.” Ephesians 2:7-10 MSG Trust in him. Open the door. Let go of the hurt. Let the healing begin. Your adventure awaits you. What are you having a hard time donating to God?
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We have a pet Russian tortoise. His name is Howard. Part of why Howard is our pet is because I’m tragically allergic to anything with fur. Part of why he’s our pet is because all he eats is lettuce (I couldn’t stomach the whole feed a lizard live crickets thing – ick!). We also chose Howard as our pet because with an average lifespan of 110, he’ll outlive all of us. Howard is cute with his bumpy shell and neck that stretches out when we rub under his leathery chin. But Howard is not brave. Instinctively an overwhelming noise, or an unexpected movement frightens Howard. At those times he retracts into his protective shell. When do you crawl into your shell? When you’re called on in class? When you enter a club or party or meeting or practice where you don’t know anyone, at least not well enough to join into the conversation? Maybe it’s not a place. Maybe it’s a person. There are certain people who make me feel like I’m five years old. When I’m around them, I crawl back into my little girl shell, shy of sharing my opinions and experiences, fearing my insights are insignificant, uninformed or they’ll be laughed at. Or it could be a circumstance. Do you pretend you’re texting to avoid a difficult question or socially awkward moment? Do you turn your phone over if the caller equals confrontation? Do you go along with the crowd rather than sticking your neck out and suggesting a different approach or standing up for who or what you believe in? I don’t want to be that person, but sometimes it’s easier to crawl into my shell. It feels safer. I’m sure Howard is quite happy. The life of a tortoise in captivity is peaceful, docile and rather uneventful. He’s warm and well fed and safe, and for a tortoise that’s enough. We also long to be warm and fed and safe, but God created us craving so much more. We crave love and acceptance and a sense of worth and knowledge and adventure and usefulness. Yet none of those things can be achieved in the safety of our shells. In the wild, a tortoise’s shell is a survival mechanism. Instead of being viewed as a meal to animals of prey, they could pass as a rock. Sometimes it is necessary for us to protect ourselves, so we don’t get eaten by this world’s birds of prey. But most of the time, we’d find the things that frighten us – risk of being rejected, risk of being wrong, risk of not making the team or not getting invited or not meeting someone’s approval - are actually opportunities to grow and to shine – to meet someone new, to learn a new perspective, to use our talents, to contribute, to feel proud and satisfied that we gave it our all. In her new book, EVERYTHING, Mary DeMuth says, “There is always another risk God asks us to take. Always another adventure around the corner. But if we stay in the “good old days,” (I’m inserting ‘shells’ here) we won’t take those risks or live that adventure today. Yet we crawl back there, don’t we?” It’s true. We let fears overtake the possibilities of today. We crawl back into our shells, where it seems safe and dark and quiet and no one and nothing can find us. But shells are dark and lonely. If we reach out of them, stretch our limbs and our hearts and our very selves, we can move forward and learn and triumph and experience. DeMuth goes on to say, “Dare to be brave today, and trust that when you extend your wings, you will fly.” Mark 14: 6-8 But Jesus said, "She has just done something wonderfully significant for me…She did what she could when she could." What could you do today? Where could you climb out of your shell, reach out your neck and let the adventure begin? I’m a planner, an organizer, and a calendar maker extraordinaire. I have four kids, which means a fun-filled crazy, busy life. If I don’t stay on top of all the practices, assignments, to-dos and errands they crawl on top of me, and smother me.
However, despite all of my color-coding and lists, I have to remember that I am not the one in control. God is. On a family trip to Italy we needed to check out of our apartment in Florence prior to the proprietor’s arrival to make our train to Venice on time. We dutifully took out our trash, stripped our sheets and dropped our keys in the drop box. We rolled our suitcases thumpety-thump down the cobblestone streets to the metro, took the metro to the train station and boarded our train, surprised to see an entire class of Italian school children filling our car and our seats. I spoke with a lovely teacher whose English was even worse than my Italian. We exchanged tickets, but couldn’t figure out how we all had the same seat assignments. Together we searched for a conductor, who just as the train began its departure told us to sit tight. We’d sort it all out en route. We situated ourselves in corners and nooks, plugged in our ear buds and flipped through books until about an hour into the ride when the conductor came to punch the tickets I’d ordered months ago on the Eurorail website. “Ecco.” Here you go. I presented ours to him, proud of my Italian expression. He shook his head with a sneer. “These are for tomorrow.” “What?” “Today is Wednesday. These are for Thursday.” He said briskly, not feeling my panic, my pain, and my well-executed plans in a tangle. “How- how could that be?” The words tumbled from my mouth. My brain churned. He pointed to the date on the tickets, which were indeed for the next day. I grabbed my travel file and frantically flipped through the itineraries. I turned to my hubby and gasped in a stressed whisper, “How did this happen? I don’t understand? Where will we stay in Venice tonight? We’ll be a day early.” “You cannot continue to Venice.” The conductor’s voice was freakishly flat for an Italian. “Wh-what? Wh-why?” Silently he pulled out his calculator and typed in seemingly hundreds of numbers. Eventually he turned the display to me. “This is your fine for riding the train without a proper ticket. You must depart at the next stop - Bologna. You may use your ticket tomorrow to get you from Bologna to Venice.” A lengthy list of questions from me to the train worker didn’t clear up any of my concerns. The fine was enormous. We knew no one in Bologna and had no hotel booked for our four children, my mom and ourselves. We’d forfeited a prepaid night in Florence. Not to mention the blow to my ego that I’d majorly botched our travel plans and let my family down! My stomach was like a pulverized pizza. My face hotter than the Tuscan sun. My hands shook like our train car on rickety tracks. We paid our fine, gathered our group and got off the train in Bologna, the beautiful city of Bologna, home of robust spaghetti alla Bolognese, one of the oldest Universities in Europe, an active political community and ancient basilicas. In Bologna we stayed in the nicest hotel of our trip, complete with luxury air conditioning and an all you could eat breakfast buffet piled high with Italian pastries and made to order cappuccino. We witnessed a heated protest by impassioned university students, noshed on zesty pizza margarita (for a fraction of a price of what we paid for it in Florence) strolled through the historic university and visited the crowning jewel, San Luca. San Luca, named for Saint Luke, as in the gospel writer, sits at the top of approximately 300 steps covered by romantic porticoes supported by 666 arches and overlooks the lush city of Bologna from its hilltop perch. On a 70 degree, sunny day breathing in the architecture, gazing at the sapphire blue sky, marveling at history dating back to the gospels, intoxicated by a strong spiritual presence and surrounded by the people I love most in the world, I couldn’t imagine anything lovelier. Then, two young boys pulled out their violins and played an impromptu hauntingly beautiful concert in the grassy area outside the church, providing the soundtrack for my moment. My planner said I should be in Florence that day. I thought I was supposed to be in Venice that day. But God knew, there was no place on earth better for me on that day than in Bologna. I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. Jeremiah 29:11 MSG Tell me below - where are you planning to go this week? Where will you let God take you if only you let Him? Where did you go today? What did you wear? What did you take with you?
I started the day with yoga. Wearing my comfy gray yoga pants and stretchy gray and black tank, I grabbed my mat, my rec center ID, my hot pink water bottle and slid on my flip-flops. After a trip home for a quickie shower and a wardrobe change into a black sundress and a zillion bracelets, my next stop was a writing session at my local coffee shop, Kofenya. I packed my MacBook, extension cord, cell phone, wallet and of course my coffee cup for the excursion. This afternoon I’ll head to the pool. I’ll need to slip on a bikini, pack my sunscreen (both spray and Neutrogena face formula), a towel, my Kindle, my U2 cap (to prevent sun damage), my straw cup full of H20 and a snack. We, as a society, carry around so much stuff. And it’s even more fun when we get to carry it around in cute bags! But Jesus challenges us to do something different. He sent the disciples out on their life’s work with a walking stick and the clothes and shoes they already had on. These were his instructions: “Take nothing for the journey except a staff—no bread, no bag, no money in your belts. 9 Wear sandals but not an extra shirt. Mark 6: 8-9 NIV I’ve changed shoes three times today! IS His call to all of us exactly the same? Not exactly, but kind of. He might call you to teach or nurture or share a smile. You might be called to sing or paint or score or hug or listen or lead or follow. He has a plan for you. But do we need all this baggage we carry around to live out this plan? Not exactly. Jesus still calls us to spread His word – every day, everywhere we go – whether that’s shopping or hanging out with friends or going to class or working out with our team or working or spending time with family. He calls us to be His light. So what do we need to bring? That’s the easy one. Him. If I forget my sunscreen, I can sit under the shelter when I’m not in the pool. If I wear a normal t-shirt to yoga I’ll still be able to do my best downward dog. If I forget my travel cup at the coffee shop, they have mugs. So where are you going today? Where has Jesus called you to go? I’d love to hear about it. And don’t forget to pack the most important thing – Jesus. Let’s be honest – travel wears a girl out. Overnight flights, train rides, crowding into hostels or strange hotel rooms, long days of working, exploring and walking plus late nights making sure you don’t miss one single thing all add up to longing – craving – aching for a cup of coffee.
But no worries! Coffee is abundant and decadent everywhere you go (even abroad). You just need to know what you’re looking for and how to order it. First – when you’re on the road, ditch your Starbucks habit goodbye. Now don’t raise your fingernails at me in a cat hiss. Few things make me happier in the morning than a venti Estima with a shot of mocha and room for milk. However, when in Rome or Paris or Nashville or Atlanta. Embrace the culture! If you’re in a new town, find the local coffee shop, the one with the menu handwritten in chalk on a blackboard. Ask what they’re specialty is. Observe the locals. Are they all drinking iced coffees? Maybe you should try one on this hot summer day. Is the house specialty a chocolate monkey as it is at JoZoara in Nashville? You’ve gotta try one. It’s like a chocolate, banana, peanut butter milkshake with your daily dose of java all swirled into one. Phenomenal! At Kofenya, in Oxford, Ohio the house drink is a Walk in the Woods. They might know something you don’t. Why not give one a sample? If you’ve wandered further away from home, embrace the coffee in your new land. Most of the world drinks coffee too, but usually everywhere else it’s STRONG! Order café in France, espresso in Italy or Spain and you’ll get a shot of espresso in an itty bitty tiny white porcelain cup. It’s strong, robust and will wake up your taste buds, then your brain. If you’re used to a venti back home, you might want to order two, or drink one first thing, and another later along your journeys. Me, I’m a “with milk” kind of girl. So in France I order a café au lait. In Italy I get a cappuccino. When in Spain my daily order is a café con leche. I also prefer a little sweetness. Don’t look for Splenda, Equal, Stevia or Sweet N Low – those chemicals are bad news and hard to find in foreign lands for good reason. Use sugar. It’s natural and it’s sweet. Next -- your budget. Order your coffee TO GO – a emporter (in French), porte via (in Italian), para llevar (in Spanish). You’ll save a small fortune, and maybe even be able to afford coffee again tomorrow morning. If you absolutely can’t stand a Styrofoam/plastic cup OR need a minute to look at your map or reapply your lip gloss or text a friend, order your coffee at a counter or standing up at a café table. Don’t be fooled by the charming waiter pulling out a chair for you. He may think you’re cute, but he also knows if he gets you to sit, you’ll pay two to four times as much to drink your coffee. Who knew sitting was such a luxury? We’re a bit like coffee ourselves. Some of us are dark or light or tall or short. Some of us are strong or sweet or hotheaded or cool. God created sassy versions and frothy versions and simple and dependable versions of people. But we’re all delicious. Don’t forget that. Now that you know how to do it, go and open your eyes and taste buds to the rich, frothy sensation of a coffee, wherever you are. Sip. Enjoy. Repeat. Pulling into our neighborhood after another adventure, this time to North Carolina for a mountaintop spring break, I felt myself ease back into the driver’s seat, release my grip on the steering wheel and audibly sigh. The trip was a lovely escape from calendars and clocks, but there is always something soothing about returning home.
Everything was as we left it – even the load of darks in the dryer (apparently they didn’t fold themselves while I was gone). Once back inside, the unpacking began -- the transition from vacation to reality. Traveling is a passion of mine. The more treks I take -- both in actual voyages and on the road of life, I realize how important this final step is. As much as there is anticipation and excitement in the packing for a trip, there is therapy and peace in the unpacking. Pillows back on beds, iPods back in docks, jackets back on hooks. As each item is transported from car to home, it carries a story with it -- tales of the bunk beds the pillows rested on, the tune that became the theme song of the trip, the day it started out chilly, but we ended up building sand castles on the beach. What happens to you in a day or week or month or year? Who did you meet? What did you learn? Who did you disagree with? Who pleasantly surprised you? What was the strangest thing you experienced? The funniest? Who are you worried about? What are you praying for? From the time we leave our homes in the mornings to the time we return in the evenings, even if the only place we go is to our virtual office, we collect stories. At the end of it all, it’s necessary to unpack. After all, what good are stories if they’re never told? Unlike unpacking a roller bag, to unpack our lives, we need a partner. This could be a parent, roommate, best friend, boy/girlfriend, teacher, coach -- whoever’s a good listener. For me, the unpacking is always with my husband. Some days we dump the contents of our daily suitcase in heaps, rattling off event after encounter in one run-on sentence. Other days we remove one item from our suitcases at a time, sharing one meeting, a new place we discovered, a confrontation, piece by piece. Some nights we take turns unpacking items from our mental luggage back and forth like a tennis match of show and tell. And there are times, due to urgency; it’s necessary for just one of us to unpack a steamer trunk of a day. The other’s carry on can wait. And just as it’s satisfying to have my faded jeans back in my wardrobe, my clunky, silver bracelets back in their drawer and my favorite black boots back on their rack, it’s gratifying to share with my hubby about the route I took on my morning run, a quote from the book I’m reading and the phone call I had with one of our moms. Life is a journey. You need to pack to get ready for each adventure, town and port along the way. But you also need to take time to unpack your bag, look at where you’ve been, how it will effect where you’re going and every once in a while do some laundry. Who helps you unpack the stories of your life? |
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