Intersection

This morning when I was launching a series of errands, I thought briefly about which way I should maneuver my car through a particular area so that I could safely make a left turn. I figured a nearby intersection would be the best place to do that. And God told me, "The intersection is a safe place."

So, God, in His efficient, creating-things-by-speaking way, spoke both literally and metaphorically, and that's how this blog post came into being. I like Him. He's cool. Especially since today's sermon at my church kinda reminded me of my intersection revelation.

On weekdays, my morning commute to work usually averages around 45 minutes, and my evening commute back home can sometimes take an hour or longer. This lengthy drive used to freak me out a little bit, but now I cherish it because I often need a long drive after a long day. I use the drive time to unravel my brain and unclog my soul. While I drive, sometimes I scream, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cuss, and sometimes I sing. But I talk things out with God. Or sometimes I just talk, and God listens like the good Friend that He is. And He counsels like the good Father that He is. And He helps me make sense of things like the good God that He is. And even if things don't end up making sense after all, He's still God, He's still there, and He's still mine. And by the time I get home, all the stuff that had been tangled up in my brain or clogged up in my soul have gone away for a little while, and I can enjoy my evening.

So, driving has been an extremely important activity for me, even though it can be a very mundane activity. Sometimes when you're moving too fast, even during the mundane day-to-day activities, you could miss something important. For example, have you ever driven past the Farmers Market in NRH at night? I had never seen that awesome display of Christmas-lights-for-sale until this evening.

Even stopping my car at an intersection can be an extremely important activity. Hmm. Maybe if I hadn't been adjusting my stereo right before I got rear-ended by that Hummer a long time ago, I could have avoided getting those Hummer marks on my bumper.

The intersection is a very interesting place. As God showed me this morning, it's supposed to be very safe place. If I'm stopped at a red light, I should be safe as long as I don't ease off the brakes, as long as my doors are locked, and as long as no freak accidents happen to me while I'm stopped. (Hummer at twelve o'clock! AAAGH! Nah, I'm kidding. Even the Hummer incident only imprinted my bumper.)

"Unto You I lift up my eyes, O You who dwell in the heavens. Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their masters, as the eyes of a maid to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, until He has mercy on us." (Psalm 123:1-2)

In my life, I think metaphorically, I'm at an intersection. I'm kinda in between seasons. I wrapped up a major, tremendous, huge season of healing/warfare/trials, etc. (Healing/warfare/trials will continue in my life, but this particular season had a concentrated mess of them.) And I think I'm about to enter a season of brand-new things happening. So, metaphorically, I'm stopped at a red light. I'm looking around at the life happening around me, I'm conversing with God who's always with me, I'm thinking about where I came from, I'm dreaming about where I'm going, I'm enjoying the scenery, and I'm paying attention for the light to turn green.

Have you ever been in the car with a driver who complains about red lights? Like, it's in the middle of the night, and you're in a very quiet part of town that has no traffic, and the intersection is empty, and the driver complains about stopping for nobody? Maybe they'll even defy the red light, hit the accelerator, and drive through the intersection anyway? (I've done that accidentally a time or two. Perhaps we all have.) I'm sorry, but doing that on purpose is annoying and dangerous. If you've got a problem with waiting a couple of minutes for a little light to turn green, maybe I shouldn't be riding in your car.

I like David's story in the Bible (1 Samuel 17) about the process he went through before he fought Goliath. King Saul was like, "Hey, you can wear my armor!" But David was like, "Uh, I can't even walk with this. Thanks, but I can't proceed with your armor." I understand that people have very good intentions, and friends dishing out free advice is what makes them good friends (Proverbs 27:9). But while I'm waiting at MY intersection in MY car for MY light to turn green, I need to listen to MY God and do what HE tells me to do.

What if I'm planning to go straight, and it's dark outside, and God's like, "You haven't seen the road ahead yet, because the signs are poorly placed. If you go straight, you'll encounter a dead end. Turn right instead." Or what if the light turns green, and my foot freezes, and I suddenly notice a too-late pedestrian meandering across the intersection? One time, I suddenly noticed a too-late car sprinting across the intersection. I'm glad I didn't have a lead foot that day.

So, I really think the intersection is an extremely important place. If I wait there the right way, it's a safe place. And I like this place. While I'm waiting, I can think about God's faithfulness and be extremely thankful for the way He's always been there for me (Psalm 37).

At the beginning of this post, I displayed a photo of my cat. He was looking right up at me, anticipating his next meal, being completely at my mercy. (Yes, of course it was a manipulated shot. I know exactly what to say to get him to look at the camera.) See how adorable he is? Especially when he's got his attention totally focused on me?

I gotta keep my eye on my Master. He's the One whose faithfulness I feed on. He's the One who knows the next step. He's the One who knows exactly what speed I need to go, exactly when I need to hit the accelerator, exactly when the light will turn green. I depend on Him. I need Him. I can't go anywhere, do anything, or be anything without Him. When He speaks, I need to listen. I need to wait on Him. And I like doing that.

I like Him. He's cool.

Celebration

So, it's that time of year again. Whether it's from a healthy load of thankfulness digesting through their hearts like a Butterball turkey, or whether it's from the shock of having endured an entire year yet again, people just tend to get all philosophical around this time. Me especially. See how I shared my opinion 5 years ago?

The other day, I caught myself complaining about how people were starting to celebrate Christmas when it wasn't even Thanksgiving yet, but I remembered that I had already begun to buy and wrap Christmas presents, like, back in September. D'oh!

I understand what it's like to be a purist and insist that everything be done by the book. But I think I also understand now more than ever the concept of celebrating.

"Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous! For praise from the upright is beautiful." (Psalm 33:1)

I'm a very philosophical, analytical, artsy-fartsy, deeply brooding, randomly opinionated, verbally dissecting person (or, at least, I can be... would you like me to elaborate?). God designed me that way, probably so that I could accomplish certain things like artistic expression. But sometimes over-philosophizing can get in the way of things that are supposed to be simple. Like sometimes when I have my guitar or my keyboard and I'm trying to worship God by singing to Him, I'll start analyzing in my head how or why I'm doing what I'm doing. But I'll be reminded of verses like Psalm 33:1 that say to just do it because it's beautiful. Yes, the entirety of Psalm 33 discusses why God is so deserving of celebration and praise, and it lists certain things that He's done that merit our worshiping Him. But I think Psalm 33:1 says to just do it, just because.

I think celebrating holidays can be the same way. I'm not saying that debating whether or not Jesus was born on December 25th is a bad thing, or that debating the secularization of Christmas is a completely bad thing, or that debating whether or not Christmas should be celebrated at all because it was invented to sync with a pagan holiday is a horrifically bad thing. But I will say that the debating can be a distracting thing that squelches the celebration.

Take my birthday, for example. I used to be told that I was born at 8:50 a.m. Or was that 7:50 a.m.? Because if you take into account Daylight Savings Time, I was really born at 7:50 a.m. The fabricated time was 8:50 a.m. Wait. Did I even remember the time correctly?

You know what? WHO THE BLEEP CARES?? I WAS BORN ON MAY 7TH! JUST CELEBRATE THE FACT THAT I WAS BORN, AND YOU WILL HONOR MY SOCKS OFF!

This morning at work, we were instructed to say what we are thankful for. Of course, I answered with my gut reaction: "I'm thankful to be alive." When I was asked to elaborate, I think I replied, "I'm thankful for the blood that flows through my veins, that pumps through my heart, and that flows through my body." You know what? WHY THE BLEEP DO I NEED TO ELABORATE?? I AM ALIVE! PLEASE ALLOW ME TO CELEBRATE THAT MIRACULOUS TRUTH!

Take Facebook, for example. For most of my life, I've known "baby pictures" to be a lone snapshot of an infant that is displayed proudly in a photo album. Maybe that snapshot was accompanied by one or two similar snapshots or follow-up toddler snapshots. But nowadays, it's common to see a couple dozen snapshots of a baby before he or she is born, posted in real time on my News Feed, from the "We're having a boy!" sonogram shot to the monthly or weekly "baby bump" updates. This used to creep me out a little bit, but it doesn't anymore. You know why? BECAUSE THEY'RE CELEBRATING THE BIRTH OF THEIR LITTLE MIRACLE!

Jesus, the Son of God, being born of a virgin, is one of the hugest miracles ever known to humankind. I don't think it's an accident that Father God has allowed this celebration to become one of the hugest annual celebrations ever known to the world. Whether your heart couldn't care less about the fact that Christ is in Christmas, or whether you can't stand the fact that Christmas trees initially had pagan origins, I believe you're surrounded by one of the biggest celebrations that my Father enjoys every year.

Yes, technically, Easter is a more important holiday to the Christian faith. As a follower of Jesus Christ, I believe that He died on the cross, rose from the dead three days later, and is technically alive in heaven and in me. If this process had not occurred, I would have no eternal life, I would have no life whatsoever, and I would have no hope at all. So, technically, Easter is another huge celebration. But it's also a time to remember Jesus Christ's extremely terrible, deeply excruciating death, which isn't really a celebration. It's more of a time of mourning, of grief, of extreme "Wow, You did that for me?" thankfulness. So, I think Easter just has a different flavor to it than Christmas does. When you're remembering how a Person died, in my opinion, it wouldn't necessarily be appropriate or respectful to put "Yay, my Best Friend endured hours of excruciating agony!" posts on my Facebook News Feed. Easter celebrates new life, but it seems to do so by remembering death.

Christmas hints at Christ's death (because Jesus died when He was 33 years old, not when He was a baby), but it's really more of a celebration. I've noticed that it gets bigger and longer every year. Maybe commercial businesses get greedier. Maybe people get more distracted with the shiny sales. Maybe psycho-celebrators like me get more wild with the September wrapping. But the nature of Christmas is celebrating the arrival of a Baby. We all know how crazy-gushy people get when babies are born.

That's just the nature of a celebration. I think that's the way it's supposed to be.

Thanksgiving is a celebration, too, whether you're in a house with 12 other family members cooking a huge, luscious meal to be followed by football, or whether you're in an apartment with 2 cats saving a TV dinner in the freezer to be followed by wild Bible study and a 6-movie Star Wars marathon. Thanksgiving is a time to officially give thanks to God for whatever it is you're thankful for, whether it's family, wrapping paper, cats, or a heartbeat.

But that is simply my philosophical, analytical, artsy-fartsy, deeply brooding, randomly opinionated, verbally dissecting opinion.

Rehab

This is a picture of Macho wearing my knit cap. (I snapped the photo with my laptop.) Of course it doesn't fit him, but he had never let me put a cap on his little head before. It was such an adorable photo opp. Kitty in da hood!

"Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness. Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday." (Psalm 37:3-6)

Somewhat recently, I watched a very interesting episode of Mystery Diagnosis. The episode told the story of a woman who lived with an embarrassing condition for most of her life. Ever since she was a little girl, she would get a tremendous amount of pressure in her chest area that she could only relieve by belching. So, she would very frequently burp like the Dickens, and she would also have terrible bouts of diarrhea and constipation. Of course, designing her life around her condition was no easy feat. But as the years passed, she lived her life the best she could with a supportive family, and she had a career and a husband. Unfortunately, her condition didn't improve, and I think it made her depressed, and she ended up getting divorced, and I think all the doctors did for her was prescribe heartburn medication.

I'm not exactly sure what her turning point was, but after remarrying and getting a new career, she had a crisis that prompted her to seek a more specific answer from the medical community. Finally, she found a doctor that performed an hourslong test on her. He examined her intestines and discovered that some of them were situated in her chest cavity. So, for her entire life, her heart had been beating along with her strangled intestines, which had gotten stuck up there through a hernia in her diaphragm. This hernia was a birth defect. So, to fix it, the doctor performed surgery that repaired the hernia and repackaged her intestines into her gut where they were supposed to be. From what I understand, her burping/diarrhea/constipation symptoms disappeared immediately, but her heart had been permanently damaged from the years of sharing its space with her intestines.

That was a true story, and it fascinated me. In writing this, I certainly hope I wasn't insensitive to this woman or the fact that she was brave enough to tell her medical story on national television for all of us to learn from. She endured years of pain, suffering, and uncertainty. And I'm truly glad that she got the answers she needed and that she's much healthier now. It's just that the more I think about it, the more her physical story reminds me of my emotional story. Maybe other people can relate to this also.

Perhaps due to a metaphorical birth defect, aka iniquity, or perhaps due to conditioning, or perhaps due to trauma, some of us grow up with all kinds of crap passing through our system in a way that stifles or damages our hearts.

Speaking for myself, I know God is the Best Doctor in the entire universe, and He's spent lots of time sitting down with me and examining my metaphorical system with a metaphorical X-ray machine and saying, "Wow, you're not going to believe this. Do you have any idea how much crap has been passing near your heart? And how this crap-route isn't supposed to be there in the first place? Do you see the open door that I'm going to need to perform surgery in order to close forever?" And I look at the X-ray machine and say, "OH, MY GOSH! I NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED THAT THAT'S WHAT'S BEEN CAUSING ALL THIS!"

And then you think about all those times when your soul would belch and cramp and emit all kinds of unpleasant things that would scare people away, and you weren't exactly sure where these unpleasant things were coming from. There were times when you'd feel pressure in certain situations, and sometimes you had trouble expressing yourself and become depressed, and other times you couldn't control your expressions, so you'd have angry outbursts or yelling contests or just competition contests, and you'd end up in places that you certainly didn't want to be, and you wondered if life would ever be liveable. And you'd remember all the people who would stay away from you, and then you'd remember all the people who wanted to stick around you -- the ones who saw your troubling symptoms but accepted you anyway, and they wanted to walk you through them, and they knew that you weren't just a pile of unpleasant symptoms. They knew you were a loveable person with a troubled heart.

And then God does the surgery, and He's like, "OK, let's get all this crap routed away from your heart. There ya go. How does that feel?"

And you're like, "Wow. The symptoms are gone."

And then He tests you with certain situations. You feel the symptoms again, but less severely this time, and you feel a little strange to feel angry without having to check in to a psych hospital to deal with it. Or you feel a little weird with your heart palpitating with excitement or stress or nervousness. And you have a bad day, and you apologize to the Doctor, and you talk to Him about your bad day.

And He's like, "It's OK. You did it right. You talked to Me about it. That's the way your stuff is supposed to flow out of your system. Pour it out to Me."

And then your heart, which has been weakened by years of strangulation, beats painfully at first, but then with exercise, your circulation is restored to what it was supposed to be in the first place. And your heart gets a little bit bigger and stronger as you learn how to feel more and more emotion and as you learn how to express it more healthily.

And, of course, when I say "you," I mean "me."

For the past several months, I've been praying, "Thank You for healing my heart, my mind, and my gut. Please keep healing my heart, my mind, and my gut." My heart, of course, is the way I feel things, cherish things, and treasure things. My mind is the way I think about things and remember things. My gut is the way I process things and the way I "take" things.

Because life can punch you in the gut sometimes. What are you gonna do? Are you gonna punch back, or are you gonna double over in pain and crawl back to your Doctor? (I think the latter is the healthier option.) What are you gonna do? Are you gonna pretend it doesn't bother you, or are you gonna anticipate the punch and build up your gut muscles beforehand? (I think the latter is the healthier option, and it probably requires planning and anticipating.) I think the more time I spend with the Doctor and learn His ways and let Him condition my gut, the better shape it'll be in to take the punches and roll with them.

And I think the less crap I carry around in my gut, the better shape it'll be in so that my entire body can take care of whatever it needs to. I'm a very deep person who is capable of hurting very deeply. So, usually when I process pain or clean out a wound, I'll spend a very long time emptying it out, examining it, and doing my part to ensure that it's all gone.

As I shared with my lifegroup a long time ago, I consider forgiveness to be a lot like tithing. If you get a paycheck, you really shouldn't hang on to your tithe for very long. As soon as you know how much you owe, get it the heck out of your bank account, get it to your church's storehouse, pay it completely, and enjoy the rest of your check. If somebody offends me, I really shouldn't keep it in my gut for very long. As soon as I know what the offense is, I need to get it the heck out of my soul, metaphorically poop it out of my metaphorical gut, make sure it's all gone, and enjoy the rest of my life.

I think sometimes that can take a while, because I think some offenses have lots of layers to them. It'll be like, "Lord, I forgive so-and-so for doing such-and-such. They made me feel like thus-and-so when they did that." Then it'll be gone, but it'll come back, and I'll have to talk to God about it more and make sure I didn't leave anything out, because maybe there's a tiny little sliver of something stuck somewhere. I mean, I don't want to get a metaphorical polyp, right? "Lord, I forgive so-and-so for doing such-and-such. They made me feel... oh, my gosh. They made me feel LIKE BLEEP WHEN THEY DID THUS-AND-SO!!" Then I'll probably cry, and God will probably scrape out the wound for a while until it's better. Then that process might repeat a few times until I'm like, "Oh, yeah, so-and-so hurt me. Huh. I forgot all about that." And I'm on my merry way.

And, of course, I've been thinking about this sort of thing because my church recently had a sermon about forgiveness. I'm still learning about it.

I think if I've had all kinds of mis-routed crap flowing near my heart, it might take a while for my heart to finish its rehab. Maybe it needs to learn how to beat the right way. And maybe my guts need to learn how to flow the right way, too. But I think God is in the business of rehab. He lovingly pushes us to our limits, and then He repeats until we learn how to walk, talk, and think the right way. And our hearts will remember forever the correct way to beat, and our guts will remember forever the correct way to flow.

Then it's only a matter of time before He puts a knit cap on your head and says, "Check it out! She didn't let Me do that with her before! See how adorable she is?"

Tirzah in da hood!

Back on track

I had originally thought that this evening's post would sort of continue with this previous post, or that it would refer to this previous post, and it probably sort of will, but I think it may actually be more like this previous post. Hmm. I think they're sort of starting to run together. But it's all good.

And on this evening's edition of Tirzah's Adventures With Daddy, we bring you... Spontaneous Road Trips. [headbanging music plays]

I used to have a really bad sense of direction. When I first started driving, I would get lost quite frequently and for quite long periods of time. Years ago, a friend asked me to pick her up from DFW Airport. Neither of us lived in the DFW area, so neither one of us was 100% familiar with the area. I think this was way back in 2000, before I owned a map of the DFW area, before I owned a cell phone, and before Google Maps, Mapquest, and GPSs were ubiquitous. So, I asked my friend for directions to the airport. She said, "Just follow the signs."

Heh, heh, heh.

I was naive enough to believe my friend's directions were that simple. I didn't know any better. So, I didn't own a handheld electronic device that was capable of giving me detailed directions to the airport. And I didn't know that because I didn't own such a device, I should have at least found a computer with the internet and found a map that way. (Did Mapquest exist back then?) And I didn't know that I should have at least stopped at a convenience store somewhere and purchased a hardcopy map. Instead, I chose to "Just follow the signs" and hope I'd find the airport. You can't miss a big thing like an airport in the middle of a big city, right?

Heh, heh, heh.

I had a terrible experience. I got severely lost. I drove around aimlessly. I did my best to follow the signs, but I'd miss my exits, or I'd exit too early, or I'd go in the wrong direction, or I'd guess that something looked like an airport, and I was wrong, and etc., etc., etc. I even stopped at one convenience store to ask for directions to the airport, and the guy behind the counter made fun of me. During this time in my life, I was battling depression, so this series of failures wasn't helping me at all. I'm pretty sure I was praying, I possibly was crying, and I was definitely frustrated. Because I didn't own a cell phone, and because my friend didn't have a cell phone, and because I didn't know how I could contact her at the airport to tell her I was running late, I had no way to communicate my lost-ness to her. So, after I finally found the airport and finally found my friend, I was 2 hours late to pick her up.

Heh, heh, heh.

Unfortunately, she and I aren't friends anymore, and fortunately, I used that experience to decide once and for all that cell phones can really come in handy.

"Show me Your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation; on You I wait all the day." (Psalm 25:4-5)

Years later, after I moved into an apartment that was very near DFW Airport and began to settle more deeply into the area, I realized that during my crazy 2-hour delay in 2000, I possibly got lost in Southlake. Or maybe it was Colleyville. Hmm. Sometimes the suburbs all run together. But they are nowhere near the airport.

This evening, I was reminded of my 2-hour delay from 2000. I needed to pick something up in Fort Worth, but I was driving from Dallas, and I had researched on Google Maps where I needed to go. I own a cell phone, but it doesn't have the internet, and to this day, I refuse to own a GPS. But, thanks to God, my sense of direction is much better than it used to be. As a kinesthetic learner who has driven on many DFW roads, I'm mainly familiar with where I need to go, so I go, and if I make a wrong turn, I turn back. No mental health crises this time, hallelujah. Yes, I got lost this evening, but I was happy to have found my destination safely, and now I'm safely here at home telling you about it. And yes, I was talking to God during my spontaneous road trip, and yes, He was talking to me, too, and He was definitely showing me where to go.

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)

I heard a pastor at my church say once that sometimes God is like a GPS. If you make a wrong turn, the GPS will recalculate your destination and reroute you to where you need to be. And I think to a degree, that's definitely true. But I really don't think God is completely like a GPS.

I may change my mind sometime in the future, but right now I hate GPSs. I've never used one myself, but being inside a vehicle that had a talking one was a frustrating experience. I don't think the GPS completely knew what it was doing. Sometimes it would tell us to turn AFTER we were supposed to have turned. Or if the GPS didn't know that certain streets existed yet, because they had been built after the GPS was designed, it couldn't tell us where to turn, so we were on our own. How helpful was any of that supposed to be? The GPS was full of crap.

Heh, heh, heh. If you think God is like that, prepare to have your paradigm blown to smithereens.

When I'm lost and God is giving me directions, He rarely seems to be in a hurry. He values my safety more than He values my accuracy. If I freak out because I don't know where I'm going, or if I'm just lost, He calms me down, helps my eye to see whatever sign I need to see, and clears the traffic so that I can drive safely to the next turn. He is right on time with helping me make all of the turns I need to make. He knows exactly where every street is, no matter when they were built. He is extremely helpful, and He is the ultimate Helper. And He is definitely NOT full of crap.

Of course, I mean literally and metaphorically. God is my Father. He and I have a relationship with each other, so we hang out and talk while I drive. If I ask Him where I need to turn or which street I need to take, He shows me. But He isn't a micromanager. If I accidentally get lost, He doesn't freak out or get mad. He doesn't get anxious. Sometimes He shows me shortcuts. Other times, He tells me to take the long way if it's safer.

"Also it is not good for a soul to be without knowledge, and he sins who hastens with his feet." (Proverbs 19:2)

I've noticed that a lot of places in Tarrant County aren't well lit at night. I'm guessing they keep it dark outside to discourage us from venturing out at night. So, sometimes when I'm out on my spontaneous road trips, and if I'm lost or am just generally unfamiliar with a road at night, I'll drive very slowly while making a turn so that I don't accidentally jump a curb or accidentally drive on the wrong side of the road or anything like that. (Back in 1999-2000, I did those things a few times. I don't recommend that.) Fortunately, Tarrant County drivers are usually a tiny bit more patient than Dallas County drivers. (In Dallas County, if you sit for more than 1.5 seconds at a green light, you'll get honked at.)

If I'm driving around in my metaphorical car, and if I don't have a metaphorical GPS or a metaphorically exact map with me, I don't have to guess where to turn. If something looks shiny and distracting, I don't have to veer towards it. I have God to hang out with me, talk to me, and tell me exactly where to turn and where to go. He will keep me safe and help me reach my destination, even if the other metaphorical drivers around me think I'm going too slow. God won't make fun of me. He'll keep me safe, and He'll keep everyone around me safe. The other day, I was taking a way home that I don't usually take, and I decided to take a left turn on a street that usually leads to a shortcut. Except I accidentally turned too early, and I ended up in a turning lane I think for the opposite direction, so when I turned, I wasn't completely aimed at a driveway, and I realized that I was stuck in the middle of the road, so I panicked a tiny bit, but the road was clear, and I stumbled onto another road that turned out to be an even shorter shortcut than what I was thinking of doing. I made a mistake, but nobody got hurt, and I discovered something new and helpful.

If I get lost, He'll help me get back on track. I think that's amazing.

"Therefore I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little." (Luke 7:47)

Now it's time for this post to go in a slightly different direction. I used to be a Pharisee. I remember what it was like to think that going to church was boring, God was a ticket out of hell, and He was obligated to protect me because I was doing stuff for Him. But now I know that going to church isn't boring because people ARE church and because a church service is an event in which regular human beings can meet with the God of the universe who made them, where they can connect with Him in a way that makes them forget all about the earth they live in, and where they can be mysteriously/wonderfully reminded of the heaven that's their real home. Now I know that God isn't just the right thing to do or the right Person to please, and I know that praying a salvation prayer to let Jesus into your heart isn't just a ticket out of hell, and I know that God... the one and only true God of the universe... He wants to be my Friend? He wants to infuse His presence into every tiny little mundane situation of my life? He wants to share Himself and His life with me? forever? starting now and ending never? for really? Oh, my gosh, you gotta be effing kidding me. For reals. Like, this isn't a joke. Like, this is 100% true, and it seems too good to be true, except that it really IS both good AND true. How am I ever supposed to get over that? How could I possibly ever be the same again? He's a Person who made me, chose me, wants me, fixes me, and loves me? And all I have to do is give Him everything I have, everything I am, everything I was, everything I'm going to be, as if I had anything to do with any of that in the first place? Shucks. And on top of all that, God wants me to call Him DADDY? As in, He's not ashamed of me? As in, He wants to give me His inheritance? As in, He wants me to be in His family? Daddy, where do I sign? And now I know that He protects me because He loves me, I love Him, I belong to Him, and because He's merciful, He's gracious, He's faithful, and He's God, whether He chooses to protect me or not. Hmm. He chooses to keep me safe. He chooses to save me. He chooses me.

I still can't get over the fact that I was expected to get over how wonderful God is. He's awesome. It's called AWEsome for a reason. God deserves for us to stand in AWE of Him. If somebody you love walked up to you without a smile, without eye contact, and mumbled, "Praise you. I love you. OK, I served you. Can I go home now?" I'm not exactly sure how that would bless you. But if somebody you love walked up to you with tears in their eyes, possibly sobbing openly, possibly even smiling, possibly allowing their tears to flow over your feet before drying them off with their hair, or maybe if they'd simply clasp their hands on your shoulders, look you in the eye, and say, "I love you. I'm really glad I know you. You really are the best. Would you like to have dinner with me?" that would probably bless your socks off.

Wait. If your feet are getting washed, you probably already took your socks off. But I hope you see my point.

I still can't get over the fact that I was counseled to not be surprised whenever God would answer prayer. And I would counsel people the same way. I would feel blown off whenever I'd express awe over something God did or a characteristic that God has. And I probably made people feel the same way.

No way. God rescued me from that life. I don't drive my car in that part of town anymore. I don't care how beautiful the bridge to get there looks like. That beautifully lit bridge leads to a bad neighborhood that I should probably avoid, especially after dark. I messed up. And God has been fixing everything.

The other day, I examined the inside of my mouth and realized how awesomely the gum-hole at the bottom of my jaw is healing. I took my dental syringe, pressed it inside my gum-hole, and felt new bone growing where a rotting wisdom tooth used to be. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, I was probably crying, and I told my Daddy, "You did that." My God, who exists, healed up my gum-hole to form new bone where there was once decay and the potential for serious nerve damage. He healed it. He's still healing it. And I was able to have a moment in front of my bathroom mirror and simply be in AWE of my God and His works. And nobody was around to make fun of my moment or squelch it. I am my Beloved's and He is mine, and I don't ever want to get over that. And I don't think He wants me to, either.

OK, so I ended up referring to this previous post also. And I neglected to post a cat photo!

Heh, heh, heh. I can fix that.

 

What I learned after feeling neglected by certain people

This post is sort of piggybacking off this previous post and this this older post. I would like to process something that seems to have clicked for me in a new way, and I'll try to do it without slandering anybody. Because I'm processing, I'm going to ramble. Because I'm an artist, I'm going to be philosophical. I'll be talking about certain situations in a variety of different contexts.

"Be diligent to know the state of your flocks, and attend to your herds..." (Proverbs 27:23)

Oh, my gosh, I'm not crazy. It's right there in black and white.

It seems to me that in a shepherd-sheep relationship, or an employer-employee relationship, or a parent-child relationship, or a pastor-churchgoer relationship, etc., there are two parties involved. Each party has certain responsibilities, even though one party is officially in charge.

I'll use me and my cat Macho as an example. Macho has a tendency to misbehave when I'm not looking, and I'm very aware of this tendency. (Choochie has the decency to misbehave right in front of my face, as if to say, "Oh, good, you see me chewing on the doorstop. Now can you please lower your voice, follow me to my empty food bowl, and remedy my hunger?") If I'm trying to eat my dinner on my banqueting table, and if Macho isn't allowed to touch it, and if I know he'll help himself to my food without my permission, and if I run to the kitchen for a moment, and if I return to my banqueting table and find Macho eating my TV dinner, how loudly should I really yell at him? Whose fault is it? Is it completely his fault for giving in to temptation and doing the wrong thing while I wasn't looking? Or is it completely my fault for not protecting him from temptation in the first place? Should I have carried him into the kitchen with me, or should I have checked on him frequently from the time I left my banqueting table to the time I returned to it? (Both scenarios in that last question are completely doable.)

I'll use another example with Macho, something that really happened once. I rented a room from his previous owner, who had access to the bottom of her old house through a trapdoor-like secret passageway in my closet. One evening, Macho's previous owner needed to access the bottom of her house so that a bathroom tile issue could be examined. So, she and a friend opened the door on the floor of my closet. Then they closed it. Then Choochie and I retired for the evening. The next day, Choochie was being quite clingy with me, and I didn't think anything of it until after I had come home from work, and Macho's owner was calling him frantically, but he wasn't answering. She told me that she didn't know where he was, and she hadn't seen him all day, but she heard this mysterious meowing from someplace. Then I wondered if perhaps Macho had somehow wandered underneath the house during the tile-examination from the night before. Sure enough, Macho's previous owner opened the trapdoor-like secret passageway in my closet and revealed a shaky, slightly dirty Macho meowing as masculinely as he could under the circumstances. (Choochie greeted him with a warm clinginess.) He survived living under the house for a day. Whose fault was it for accidentally leaving a pet under the house? Was it my fault because Macho had given in to his curious feline temptation on my territory? Was it Macho's fault for not knowing any better? Or was it his previous owner's fault for not checking on him? Or was it a combination of factors?

I will say that I've learned that you can't control a cat completely at all times, but it is possible to know where your cat is at all times. (Currently, Macho is in my bedroom, and Choochie is here in my living room. Macho is in a state of napping. Choochie is in a state of transition from napping to hmm-let-me-decide-if-I-want-to-crawl-onto-Mom's-shoulder-and-purr.)

I don't think Proverbs 27:23 says to be OCD, anal, or micromanaging, but I do think it says to be diligent to know what your flocks are up to at all times. I think technically, the context of that verse is financial. From what I understand, in biblical times, a flock was like a bank account; that was how you did business and made your money. Joyce Meyer's application of Proverbs 27:23 is, "When was the last time you balanced your checkbook?" So, it's the keeper of the flock's responsibility to diligently check on the state of the flock. If I neglect to balance my checkbook after I get paid, and if I go on a spending spree, whose fault is it if I'm overdrawn at the bank? Is it my employer's fault for not paying me a million dollars? Is it my fault for not finding a job that pays me a six-figure salary? Is it society's fault for dictating that people in my profession don't earn a million dollars per paycheck? Is it the merchants' and creditors' fault for charging too much money? Is it the bank's fault for debiting my money immediately during a transaction? Is it the state's fault for charging a sales tax?

I'm pretty sure the buck stops with me.

And I'm not really talking about putting the blame on people. Certainly if someone has a job to do, they should ideally be trusted to do it with reasonable supervision (not micromanagement). If the shepherd puts a trusted sheep in charge while the shepherd goes on vacation, and if the sheep were to be lazy or power-trippy in the shepherd's absence, of course the sheep needs to be held responsible for his or her actions, especially if he or she harms other sheep because the shepherd wasn't looking.

I'm saying that the shepherd-sheep relationship, or employer-employee relationship, or parent-child relationship, or pastor-churchgoer relationship, etc., is a two-way street. Yes, the sheep, employee, child, and churchgoer must be held accountable for his or her actions. I think the shepherd, employer, parent, and pastor also need to be held accountable for his or her actions, because he or she is the authority. I think that means that it's the authority's responsibility to check on the sheep, employee, child, or churchgoer from time to time. It's the authority's responsibility to diligently know the state of his or her flocks.

I'm not crazy. It's right there in black and white.

So, all those times I felt like a sheep, employee, child, and churchgoer who was neglected by a shepherd, employer, parent, and pastor who didn't check on me, it probably wasn't completely my fault. I'm not trying to be resentful or hold a grudge or nurture a bitter root or anything like that. Forgiveness and letting go are definitely my responsibility. I'm just trying to get a handle on this so that I can move forward.

I'm not crazy, I'm not lazy, I'm not a freak, I'm not a rebel, I'm not worthless, I'm not incompetent, I'm not a loser. I was simply neglected, overlooked, unchecked on, unshepherded. It's right there in black and white.

I think a shepherd who loves his or her sheep will check on the sheep from time to time and make sure that don't wolves attack the flock. A shepherd needs to be diligent to know the state of his or her flocks, so that the flocks will do what they're supposed to do -- whether it's make money or just exist as healthy sheep.

Jesus knows how to do this. He's The Great Shepherd who is an Expert at diligence, because He invented diligence. He's an Expert at managing finances, because He invented wealth. He's an Expert at investing in the sheep, protecting the sheep, and managing the sheep, because they're His sheep, He bought them, and He loves them. And because He's The Great Shepherd. He shepherds me because He loves me.

I want to learn from Him.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." (Psalm 23:1)

See? I'm not crazy! It's right there in black and white.

God will always be diligent to shepherd me, He'll always look after me, He'll never neglect me, He'll never let me down, and He'll never fail me. I shall not want... and I want Him.

Who's your Daddy?

I tried to take an adorable photo of my cats begging for their evening snack, but I ended up getting an awesome candid shot of Macho sniffing Choochie's butt. I've discovered that cats tend to sniff each other's butts for the same reason that dogs do (as a greeting), but they also seem to use the gesture in other ways as well. They seem to use the butt-sniffing gesture as a way of pushing the other cat out of the way (which is what Macho is probably doing in this picture) or as a way of saying, "Hey, your butt stinks. Don't be lazy with your grooming." Sigh. But I'm just a crazy cat lady who's enamored with the adorableness of her babies. They know that I endeavor to take good care of them, whether it's giving them a snack or showing off their adorable candid shots or snuggling with Choochie while I'm typing and she's staring at my computer. I'm their Mama.

So, who's my Daddy?

I haven't seen many episodes of Duck Dynasty yet, but I've enjoyed what I've seen so far. I think what's stuck out the most to me was on a commercial for the show. From what I remember about the promo, Phil Robertson was helping his grandchildren assemble a dollhouse or some sort of outdoor play contraption. It was a miniature plastic building that lacked a window. Phil was like, "You want a window? I'll give you a window." So, he revved up his chainsaw and saw-carved a window into the plastic roof. Children screamed, Phil was pleased, and no laughtrack was required.

"For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness. For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly." (Psalm 84:10-11)

About 2 or 3 weeks ago, a pastor at my church preached a sermon about the fear of man. Proverbs 29:25 mentions the fear of man, but my quirky right-brained definition of the fear of man is "worshiping what other people think of you." While I grew up in a Pharisee's house, quite frankly, the fear of man was one of the driving forces that controlled almost every decision that was made. I think that meant that everything in the family had to look good, even at the cost of your daughter's innocence, safety, etc. So, after I heard this sermon at church 2 or 3 weeks ago, God told me, "You were raised by demons. I'm healing it by raising you Myself." I definitely don't think that means that the people who raised me were demons; I think that just means that they unintentionally did whatever the demons told them to do. So, God has had lots of cleaning up to do. "Sniff, sniff. Greetings. Your butt stinks."

Who's my Daddy? God's my Daddy.

This evening at church, the way I spent the year 2013 kinda flashed quickly before my eyes. I remembered the day I gave up and lay in bed depressed and God encouraged me to get up, I remembered the evening I was extremely oppressed and could see the devil in my face but I worshiped God on my guitar anyway, I remembered the times I drove home from work bawling like a baby and God hung out with me. He's faithful, and I'm thankful. I'm still in one piece! Recently, He showed me how hard 2013 has been for me (hence all the blogging), and He said that if He had shown me how difficult it was going to be ahead of time, I wouldn't have wanted to go through with it. He was right! It was kind of a "Duh" moment. Numbers really can be symbolic. I've heard that 7 means perfection, 8 means new beginnings, I think 14 means double perfection, and I think 13 means imperfection. (Sorry, I don't believe in bad luck.)

At the beginning of this year, right after I stepped down from lifegroup leadership, God was like, "You've taken care of other people. Now it's time to take care of you." So, He revved up His chainsaw and went to work. It was almost as if He had said, "So, those classes at church aren't specific enough for you, huh? You want Freedom? I'll give you some Freedom." I screamed, God was pleased, and a laughtrack probably would have been inappropriate.

No, I'm not saying that God my Daddy is a sadistic dictator who likes to hear me scream. I'm saying that God my Daddy is the most powerful, most efficient, most merciful, most gracious, most loving Person in the universe who knew how much cleanup my soul needed, and He went to town. Have you ever had to do some sort of cleaning job that was really disgusting, but it was over quickly, and afterwards, you barely even remember how dirty it was? Kinda like cleaning a toilet? "Oh, this is nasty, this is nasty, this is nasty... Ahhh, that Clorox sure knows how to make porcelain sparkle. Wow, this toilet smells nice." That's kinda like how 2013 was for me.

So, Daddy and I will spend the rest of the year celebrating. Lately, He's been mostly quiet, but I'm OK with that, and so is He. He hasn't been 100% silent, though.

Lately, I've needed a good dose of hope, and God reminded me that He has good plans for me, to prosper me and not to harm me, to give me a future and a hope, like it says in Jeremiah 29:11. He also made Psalm 84 click for me. I think I've read that particular psalm zillions of times, but I think I finally get it now. (And in the years to come, I'll probably have even more things click in it for me.) From a recovering orphan's perspective, it reads something like this:

"I love Your house, God! It's so awesome here! Wait. Why does everybody else here get better treatment than I do? Dang it, even the birds have nests here! Why can't I just have one teensy, tiny little place carved out for me??!"

"Uh, little girl, open your eyes. There's desert, desert, everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Let Me be the One who gives you fresh water in a dry place. You want water? I'll rev up My chainsaw and carve out a spigot for you."

"D'oh! You're right, Daddy. I'm sorry. Just as long as I get to live in Your house, I'll be a crummy little doorkeeper, if You want. Please just let me stay here. Wait. You mean... You have more blessings up Your sleeve?"

"Did you honestly think that I would withhold blessings from you? Did you honestly think that I would withhold favor from you? Did you honestly think that I would withhold people from you? Did you honestly think that I would withhold any good thing from you -- you, My daughter, who are walking as uprightly as you can? I'll bless you with all that plus more. I'll be your Sun all the time, especially when it's dark outside. I'll be your Shield all the time, because our enemy truly hates your guts. And I truly love you. I'm your Daddy, and you're My little girl."

I didn't know what it was like to grow up with a manly daddy who hunted and fished and liked sports and fixed cars, who went out of his way to fix things for his kids, or who went out of his way to spend time with his kids. I didn't know what it was like to grow up with a womanly mommy who cried at the drop of a hat and kissed boo-boos and went to PTA meetings and had playdates with other stay-at-home mommies, who diligently took pictures of her kids to document and celebrate their milestones, or who was dangerously protective of her kids. I grew up with an insecure daddy who once insinuated that his catching a cold was my fault because he wore the knit cap that I bought him for Christmas, when I was an adult, while he was gardening in the drizzling rain. I grew up with a gossipy mommy who folded laundry with the TV on while Luke and Laura did rated-R things on a soap opera when I was 5 years old. Sorry about your cold, but I don't remember forcing you to wear a knit cap in the rain. Sorry about my need for Freedom ministry, but perhaps I shouldn't have been exposed to adult TV when I was 5.

But now I know what it's like to have a benevolent-dictator Daddy who takes charge, plans ahead, goes out of His way to fix things for me, and looks forward to spending time with me. Now I know what it's like to have a mighty-protective Daddy who cries with me, kisses my boo-boos, connects me with other people, enjoys celebrating milestones with me, and who truly is the most dangerous Mama Bear to ever cross. He takes care of Me. He protects me. He loves me. He wants me. He's my Daddy. And I'm His little girl, forever.

You won't find any of that on Greg's List.

What I learned while working with certain people

This post is kindasorta related to this older post, but not completely. I experienced the things in this post while working at certain jobs and on certain non-employment ministry teams. I think I can communicate my experiences/opinions best in this post by kindasorta fictionalizing certain situations. Some situations will be rolled up into one... kindasorta like a kaleidoscope.

WHAT WE MIGHT THINK GOD IS LIKE, ACT I

Me: (smiling) Hi. I have a question about my assignment.

Supervisor: (annoyed) Yeah.

Me: Do we italicize the names of ship vessels?

Supervisor: (perplexed) Huh?

Me: Uh, ship vessels. Do we--

Supervisor: Where the [expletive deleted] did you find the name of a ship vessel?

Me: (sweating) Uh, in my, um, assignment, uh... in, uh, the footnote.

Supervisor: (sighs frustratedly) I can't answer your question that way. I'll have to come see it myself. Hold on. (peels self away from desk and groans) Ugh, my feet.

WHAT GOD IS REALLY LIKE, ACT I

Me: (hesitant) Um, do You want me to... uh... would You like me to... um...

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (grinning) Your brain is zooming at a zillion miles an hour.

Me: (sighs) I know. I'm sorry.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Do you hear Me complaining?

Me: No, Sir.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: I don't mind waiting for you to get your thoughts together.

Me: (in shock) You don't?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (still grinning) Nope.

Me: You have time?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Yep.

Me: You'll give me time?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Sure.

Me: All the time I need?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Of course. It would be My pleasure. I love you.

Me: (quickly coming unglued) Um... I... uh... (voice quavering) I don't really remember what I was going to ask. Can I please just hug You?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (outstretched arms) Yes, please. Come right here where you belong.

WHAT WE MIGHT THINK GOD IS LIKE, ACT II

Boss: (yelling) What are you doing with this?

Me: Um...

Boss: Why aren't you doing it right?

Me: Uh...

Boss: Why are you doing it that way?

Me: (trying to not cry) I...

WHAT GOD IS REALLY LIKE, ACT II

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (smiling) So, talk to Me. What's up?

Me: Well, I was thinking about, uh... You know how You wrote in Your Book about how, uh... well, I know how in that one really long chapter, in that one verse where... I don't remember... and, uh, I was thinking about how thankful I am to You about how, uh... and I was thinking about how I'm supposed to... uh...

CEO/Father/Best Friend: I don't want a dissertation. I want your tears.

Me: (sudden waterworks)

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (outstretched arms)

WHAT WE MIGHT THINK GOD IS LIKE, ACT III

Supervisor: Hey! How's it goin'?

Me: I'm fine, thank you. How are you?

Supervisor: "Fine"? Just "fine"?

Me: (suspicious) What's wrong with "fine"?

Supervisor: Well, "fine" is so boring, so non-descriptive, so blah. Give me some gusto, woman! I know you're better than just "fine."

Me: (resisting the temptation to punch Supervisor in the nose) You want me to lie?

Supervisor: The next time I ask you how you're doing, I'd like you to tell me, "I'm doing wonderful!" K?

Me: (suddenly builds invisible wall) You want me to lie.

Supervisor: (well-meaning smile) You're doing wonderful!

Me: (smiling but flipping off Supervisor inside head) I'm doing wonderful!

WHAT GOD IS REALLY LIKE, ACT III

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (concerned) Are you OK?

Me: (not OK) I'm fine.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: I know you better than you know yourself. What's wrong? (as if He doesn't already know)

Me: (clenching fists) I don't know.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Please be honest with Me. You can tell Me. I love you.

Me: (suddenly begins yelling a torrent of expletives deleted)

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (as if He were addressing a toddler who's vomiting into a toilet) There ya go. Keep going.

Me: (yells expletives deleted more loudly)

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Almost there. One more.

Me: (drools out a feeble expletive deleted, grunts in pain, wipes tears) What the [expletive deleted] was that?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (chuckles) You needed to let that out.

Me: (not wanting to reveal fear) Did I just defile You?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Nope. I'm un-defile-able.

Me: (smiles, not noticing slimy drool dribbling off my chin) You mean, I can tell You anything?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (gently wipes my chin with His handkerchief) You're a goner if you don't. (smiles)

WHAT WE MIGHT THINK GOD IS LIKE, ACT IV

Boss: (to coworker) Mumble, mumble, mumble, mumble, inside joke.

Coworker: Words, words, words, words, inside joke comprehended.

Boss: (to coworker) I know, right? (laughs) Every time!

Coworker: (laughs) That's what always happens!

Me: (smiling) What always happens?

Coworker: (suddenly stops laughing and stares at me)

Boss: (sighs) Hey, there. Did you need something?

Me: (smile falls) I, uh... was just wondering about, uh...

Boss: (stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language)

Coworker: (to boss) I'm gonna go check my email.

Boss: (to coworker) OK. I'll come by your desk in a little bit. (to me) You were saying?

Me: (wishing I could disappear) Um... (making up something) Is, uh, a comma the same thing as, uh, a semicolon? (winces at the stupidity of the question)

Boss: (stares at me as if I should have my grammar license revoked)

WHAT GOD IS REALLY LIKE, ACT IV

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (carrying a tray of my favorite soda cans) Would you like some soda?

Me: (confused) Um... how much does it cost?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (chuckles) It's free. It's for you, if you'd like it. Would you like some?

Me: Uh, sure. Thank You. (accepts soda, places on desk, continues working)

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (places soda tray on desk, rests chin on my shoulder) Whatcha doin'?

Me: (frozen, staring at computer) Working. What are You doing?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (shrugs shoulders) Just walking around the office and giving away free soda to whoever wants some.

Me: (continues working) Cool. That's very nice of You.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (sighs) I like you.

Me: (not sure what to think, continues working) Cool. I like You, too.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: What are you doing after work?

Me: Huh? Wait. Don't You have more sodas to deliver?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Sure, of course I do.

Me: So... with all due respect, what are You doing here?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (sighs) I like you. It's OK if I talk to you, isn't it? even while You're working?

Me: Well, sure, but... (awkwardly turns around to look Him in the face) You know You're always welcome here, but don't You have other friends working here besides me?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: Of course I do. But you're my favorite.

Me: (shocked) Um...

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (repeats gently) What are you doing after work?

Me: (smiles) Hanging out with You, if that's cool.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (smiles) Cool.

WHAT WE MIGHT THINK GOD IS LIKE, ACT V

Supervisor: Come on, give. Spit it out and make some more.

Me: (exhausted) Please, I need a break.

Supervisor: (snorts) A what? You're already resting.

Me: (exasperatedly exhausted) Huh?

Supervisor: Give! You're supposed to be producing out of rest! Come on, give, you lazybones!

Me: (wondering if some of my bones are broken) Yes, sir.

Supervisor: Faster! More! GIVE!

Me: (hobbling, considering suing the company, possibly about to go postal) OK.

WHAT GOD IS REALLY LIKE, ACT V

Me: (working dangerously hard) I can work overtime. How thorough would You like me to be on this assignment?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (grins) You're done.

Me: (shocked) What?!

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (whispers) Done.

Me: But I barely started! What do You mean, I'm done?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (leans His head on His folded hands in a night-night gesture)

Me: You want me to go to sleep... now?

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (nods while continuing His night-night gesture)

Me: But I'm not even--(suddenly yawns) Oh.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (escorting me to bed) You can finish your assignment tomorrow. Tonight, you need to rest.

Me: (climbs up into His arms) Tell me a story.

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (gently tucking me into bed) Once upon a time, there lived a little girl who had a Father who took extremely good care of her...

Me: (snoring)

CEO/Father/Best Friend: (smiles and whispers) ...all the time.