Holy nudges

I don't know what the term is, and I have a feeling "holy nudges" isn't the exact term I'm looking for, but it's got to be close.

See, every once in a while I think, "you know, I should really email/text/call/visit/send a card to [fill in the blank]."  And...  I don't always do it.  Then next thing I know, they're reaching out to me, telling me they've been thinking about me.

We probably all do this (at least, I hope so, otherwise now I'll just feel awkwardly like I'm the only heathen amongst us).  I call them holy nudges rather than "passing thoughts" because it seems like time and time again, the Lord gives me the chance to be the one to reach out first, and then BAM, I've been putting it off and the other person reaches out to me.  It's like the Lord is letting me know that we're thinking about each other and He'd be happy for me if I could be the one to reach out first if only I were paying attention.

That happens a lot.  And I'm not saying every "passing thought" is a holy nudge, but I will say that when my city took out an annoying traffic light near my house I thought I really should send a little thank-you note to the city because it was really so nice that it was gone and then I got lazy and didn't send a card and then they put the light back in because they thought nobody cared (also, they thought it was dangerous).  Now, I'm not saying they would have kept it just because I wrote them a note, but I'm saying it would have been nice if I'd written them a note, and I'm pretty sure the Lord wanted me to see tangibly that when something or someone comes to mind it wouldn't be that hard to reach out, and perhaps we would even end up making a difference.

But in this increasingly lazy-fied world, it's hard.  I mean, I don't even know where I would have sent the note to the city.  And sometimes I want to send a card but it's like, "ugh, who knows how to find their address, anyhow" and then I just justify it by saying it's too hard.  Or (my personal favorite) I decide there's no way to get in touch with them except via facebook and facebook is so impersonal anyhow that there's no way I should feel obligated to send a facebook message.  And, of course, what that means is I can count on getting a facebook message from them and yes, it's always personal and meaningful and yes I feel convicted.

Oh, guys.  I have so far to go.

Thanksgiving 2014

I love Thanksgiving.  No, for real, I do.  It's cozy, and thankful, and wonderful, and I just love it.

Not the food.  But I've said that before.   (I just searched by blog under the "Thanksgiving" label and came up with like 10 posts about Thanksgiving.  I'm not kidding, I love everything about Thanksgiving but the food!)

Also something I've said before is that for the last several years I've had my Sunday School girls write thanksgiving lists in class.  We read verses about being thankful, talk about why we should be thankful, and to Whom we should be thankful, and then try to think of things for which to be thankful (this year I remembered to be thankful for Chipotle.  Mmm).  Usually gets some pretty good results (one of our most frequent Sunday School-and-Gospel speakers is famous for reminding us to be thankful for everything, including chairs, so almost all the girls remembered this and marked that they were thankful for chairs), but this year I heard one I hadn't heard before.

While reading around an item or two from our list one girl shared that she was thankful for my eyebrows.

"Uh, my eyebrows?  Specifically me?  Or you're thankful for your eyebrows?"

"Oh no, Miss Joanne, not my eyebrows.  Yours.  I think they look okay with your face."

"Mmmmmmmnmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmk."

And that, my friends, is the story of how I got a complex about my eyebrows and I'm not even sure why, because, comfortingly enough, they are "okay."

(Just because I couldn't resist, I searched the KJV for references to eyebrows.  There's only one direct reference, and in this reference the guy is straight-up shaving his off.  Maybe eyebrows are meant to be expendable?)

Things that are real

Last night during gospel I was sitting in the midst of a horde of children (for real.  There were anywhere from 27-30 out--we never could get an accurate count) and they were dutifully taking notes (you remember something, you get a cookie or two--they have great incentive to take notes for the sake of remembering!) and Mr. Speaker mentioned that "the judgement of God is real."  He didn't say much about it, honestly, but the kids like sound bites that are easy to write down, so I noticed several kids dutifully writing down that "the judgement of God is real."

I literally almost never get choked up about things (for instance, weddings.  Never have I ever cried at one of those) but looking at the few kids sitting next to me, putting pen to paper and writing, "the judgement of God is real," make me emotional.  Because while I am confident that some of those children are truly the Lord's, I am equally confident that some of them are not.  For whatever reason, some keep putting it off.  And I think my heart broke a little bit last night, just thinking of the solemnity of it all.  Because even if they don't understand the severity of it, the truth of it remains, "the judgement of God is real."

This is why we spend and be spent for the Lord's work.  Because last night 27-30 children got to sit under the sound of the Word and they know, for sure, because they've heard, time and time again, about the love of God.  And they know, for sure, because they've heard it time and time again, that accepting the love of God is the best possible way to avoid the judgement of God.

Take with you words

The other day at dinner/Bible reading (yes, supper still lasts for like four hours at my house.  Okay, well, that's a slight exaggeration--it's more like two hours) we were reading Hosea 14.  We got as far as verse 2 before we digressed wildly (as we are often wont to do).

"'Take with you words, and return to the Lord'--hey, Joanne, this should be your verse!"

That was my dad, who in the split second it took to read the first eight words of the verse decided that when I write a memoir (because, you know, why not), I should call it "Take With You Words."

Honestly, it sounds like a good idea to me.  Not that I'm planning on writing a memoir any time soon (or ever), but if I do, at least I have a title.

It's a start.

(PS, not to toot my own horn or anything but I'll be honest--I've read memoirs before and thought that even within my limited 25 years of life I've probably acquired enough stories to write a more interesting memoir than some of them that are out there.  And for whatever stories I don't have, I could totally just write random things I thought about.  I could do this thing, people.  I'm not going to, but I could!)

(PPS, NO PICTURE TODAY.  I'm such a little rebel.)

Random facts

Have you ever tried to think of a random fact about yourself?  I mean, really, pause for a second and think, "if someone asked me for a random fact about me or my life what would I say?"

It's hard, actually.

For work right now we're doing a contest where people are offered a random fact about each one of us employees and they have to sort out whose fact belongs to which employee.  It's been funny to see people try to figure it out.  But as funny as it is, it doesn't change the fact that thinking of a fact on cue is really, really hard!

It also doesn't change the fact that everyone is guessing the wrong fact for me.  Amidst things like, "dated the Red Power Ranger," and "taught school in the Czech Republic," and "received a paycheck from Donald Trump," is one that goes, "was class Valedictorian," and another, "I once met Apolo Ohno."

Guys, 1) I was homeschooled, 2) I'm not that smart.  But I read books constantly, which someone makes people assume that I was Valedictorian.  Now me and the person who was ACTUALLY the Valedictorian both have a complex.  Me, because it's reinforcing that I wasn't smart enough, and her because literally NOBODY has guessed her as the valedictorian.

Options for guessing

And yes, I met Apolo Ohno.  At a Borders & Books.  When Borders was still a store, which dates the event quite significantly.

But anyhow, what random fact can you think about yourself?

(By the way, once I reached my fact I ended up using I thought of a ton of strange things I could have said.  It just took me forever to start thinking of things!  Also, it's a great dinner time conversation starter!)

Sometimes I am too easily amused

Spotted at my local Pet Store

I love spying funny signs.  Even if they're not meant to be funny, I will see it, and I will laugh.

See, I never just see thing and move on.  I see signs, like these, at the local pet store (I obviously wasn't inside the pet store, I don't even like pets) and the first thing that pops into my head is, "Haha, Darwin started a pet store now?"

Because, obviously, natural selection.  If I were a pet store (which I never will be) I would never put this sign up.  Because obviously I would expect people to look at it and think, "Darwin?  Darwin, are you in there?"

Oh, just more sad things

You know, while I was away from blogging I kept on thinking of things I wanted to write about.  I know people probably don't believe me on account of my occasionally loud external personality, but I do kind of  a lot of thinking.  (I may or may not be facetious right now.  I leave it up to you to decide what I would even have to be facetious about in this paragraph.  I make nothing easy on anyone.  I also might just be in a weird mood.  I might have finally redeemed my Starbucks birthday reward and gotten two extra shots of espresso in my caramel macchiato, simply because it was my birthday drink and it was freeeeee also I've always wondered what would happen to me with two extra shots of espresso and I think now I know.)

I never posted any of my musings because, well, this was a terrible year and I hated to admit to even myself that there were moments in which I was musing on other things.  But life goes thusly.

I went ahead and deleted all of those drafts this morning.  I just wasn't feeling it, also, venti Starbucks drinks sometimes, you know, make me delete things willy-nilly.  Anyhow, one of the posts I'd deleted had been some non-sensical musings (much like these?) about rings.

Rings?  rings.

You see, I remember years ago, seeing a widower, just a few months after his wife had died, with a bare left hand (had to Google which hand the wedding band goes on.  Left or right is not my best skill).  I had to wonder, looking stalkerishly at that empty ring finger, what sort of process it was to take that ring off.  What was the decision process, how did he decide it was time?  What sort of emotional toll does it even take on a human, to take off the symbol of commitment, because the person to whom you were committed has died?

It was kind of awful, actually, that day I noticed his bare hand.

But the reason I was thinking about it this summer, after all these years, was because I noticed another widower, whose wife has been with the Lord for the better part of a decade, whose ring is still firmly in place on his ring finger.  And I wondered: what does it feel like, to see that band, and know that its whole reason for existence is no more.  What sort of daily emotional roller coaster might that band represent?

I don't know why I didn't feel free to write about this over the summer, because it pretty much 100% matches my mood.  Which is to say: life is hard.  People make decisions all the time, people have to face those sorrows in the darkest cracks of their heart, and decide what steps to take, and what actions are right for them.  Because no matter what the choice is in this particular scenario (which is to say, when it's an appropriate time to remove a wedding band or not) it doesn't change the fact of it all, that the finality comes not with the removing the wedding ring or not, it comes with the painful separation that is death.  And I can tell you, I don't even have as much to be sad about as half the people I know, but my bruised-enough-as-it-is heart positively shudders at the thought of ever being in that position.  May the Lord grant immeasurable comfort to those who, for whatever reason, have to face these questions on a personal level.