I think it's a good thing I live by myself. Otherwise, any roommates of
mine would have to put up with the obsessive, incessant way that I talk to my
cats.
I basically say the same things to them over and over and over again --
not necessarily in this order, but it's a neverending stream of the same basic
stuff: "Hi, how are you doing? I love you. You're my kitties. I'm your
mama. I'm so glad that you're my kitties. I'm so glad that I'm your mama. Did
you know that you're the most extremely adorable kitties in the entire
universe? In the entire universe, you are the most extremely adorable kitten
boy, and you are the most extremely adorable kitten girl. Are you having a good
day? I love you. You're extremely adorable..." etc., etc., etc., almost as
if my voice were a recording playing on a loop.
Sometimes I wait for them to answer me with a "Meow" or a
"Wow," but most of the time I just keep talking. Still other times,
Choochie will purr very loudly in reply, or Macho will meow-bark and strut away
like a little drama queen. I wonder what they would tell me if they could speak
English. I don't think they would call me "Your Majesty" or
"Your Highness." I think they would probably call me something else. "Gee,
thanks, Your Obviousness. I had no idea that I was your cat or that you were my
mama, considering that you kinda already TELL ME ALL THE TIME!!!" Sigh.
Little teenagers.
But for the most part, they don't complain about my love-gushing.
(They're animals. They don't get bored.) They just listen, and they take it all
in. Actually, as cats, they probably relish my I-love-you-loop routine.
I know Somebody who communicates in a kind of obsessive, incessant
I-love-you-loop of His own.
"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son,
that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life."
(John 3:16)
"By this we know love, because He laid down His life for us."
(1 John 3:16a)
"But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we
were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8)
A few nights ago, I realized something very interesting. In
approximately one year's time, I have only read about three and a half books of
the entire Bible. Sure, I've read the entire Bible all the way through before,
but when I bought a brand-new Bible a few years ago, I thought it would be cool
to read it all the way through. But I usually don't read more than one chapter
in one day. I'm a meditator. I obsess. I chew. I obsess. I absorb. I obsess.
(Have I mentioned that I obsess?)
So, from the latter part of September 2014 through almost the
latter part of September 2015, I've only read the Psalms through the first half
of Song of Solomon. My one-chapter-a-day plan wasn't always followed to the
letter. Sometimes I would reread a chapter, sometimes it would take me a day or
three (or seven) to read a chapter, and other times I would read something
else. It's just crazy-interesting to me that I can pinch my entire year's worth
of Bible reading between my fingers.
Of course, God knows exactly what He's doing with me. He knows me.
"The Lord builds up Jerusalem; He gathers together the outcasts of
Israel. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:2-3)
One thing He's been doing with me is dismantling my "quiet
time." I used to be a Pharisee. I used to be extremely, rigidly,
unhealthily, dangerously religious. I think one of the most effective ways to dismantle
that way of life is to blow a chick's paradigms to smithereens. For example,
there have been a few times when I've realized that I've gone through almost an
entire day without having an official "quiet time," and I'll tell God
this. He'll answer with a whisper, "Is this quiet enough for you?"
Ha, ha. OK, Father, I get it.
"Of making many books there is no end, and much study is wearisome
to the flesh." (Ecclesiastes 12:12b)
When I was in college, I had this verse taped to my bedroom door. Ha,
ha. Get it? I think I totally understood that "much study is
wearisome" part. But long after I graduated from college and embarked on
my career, I think I began to understand that "Of making many books there
is no end" part. (Literally, I think.)
I started a new job three weeks ago. You haven't heard much about it
because, well, the job is so awesome that I haven't needed to vent about it.
(Lucky you, reader!) My new job is about 500% better than my old job. (Not
literally, but still.)
I'm in a very cool place in my editing career. At my current job, I get
to use almost everything I learned at my previous jobs. And yet, so much of it
still seems new.
My first real editing job was at a newspaper. It was very intense, very
stressful, and extremely high-paced. I worked at a daily newspaper, so we had
to finish editing at a certain time every night, or else. There were no second
chances. We had to be perfect the first time, every time. (Even when I started
working for the Spanish weekly edition of the paper, there was still a hard
deadline once a week.) Sometimes we wouldn't see our mistakes until after they
were published. Then our managing editors were very faithful to point out our
errors. That job was very good editing training ground.
My second real editing job was at a closed-caption company. That was
when I first heard the phrase "drop deadline." In other words, say
for instance that a deadline to finish a caption file was Thursday at noon, but
the drop deadline was Thursday at 3 p.m. That meant that ideally, they wanted
to have the caption file by Thursday at noon, but they absolutely had to have
it by 3 p.m., or else. (I think if they didn't get it in time, the TV show
would air without captions.) Sometimes we were given surprise assignments with
insane drop deadlines. In that case, it was all hands on deck; even the manager
would roll up his sleeves and work on the file with us. That was how the work
got done.
My next editing job was at a company that was run by ex-teachers. No
offense, but you can't run a writing/editing operation in the same way that you
can run a classroom. Reader, perhaps you remember reading my multiple ventings about
this particular job that put me back into therapy. (Sorry.)
But the two most recent editing jobs I've had have been a bit
different. Working at a monthly periodical and now at a company that publishes
cyclical print pieces has kind of stretched me a little bit. It's forced
me to slow down a little bit. I'm definitely not complaining about the process
-- just saying that it's taken some getting used to.
I remember the first time I put a metalworking magazine together. I had
thought that it would be like working at the newspaper, where you only got one
shot at getting it right. But when I saw my magazine the second time around,
before it went to the printer, I was like... "I have to read this
again?" And then I saw it a third time, before it was actually printed,
and I was like... "Um, what am I supposed to be looking for now?" I
think my job at that point was to make sure that somebody at the print shop (or
myself) hadn't made a weird mistake or sneezed or something and maybe
accidentally rotated a photo or something like that.
At my current job, there is a similar editing process that involves me
reading the same thing multiple times before the product is actually printed. I
am still learning when to read for what type of content, and sometimes my previous
newspaper training kicks in, and I scan the material at lightning speed... but
I am still learning what to check, when to read quickly, and when it's OK to
slow down. It's fascinating, honest. If you want to print something, and you
want somebody to actually read what you agonize over writing and editing, you
need to make sure that it's highly polished and perfect.
Of course, this extended editing process reminds me of Somebody I know
-- Somebody who is also into perfecting His creation.
"A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse, a spring shut up, a
fountain sealed." (Song of Solomon 4:12)
Last night, I was about to read Song of Solomon chapter 5, but I backed
up a few verses and parked at the latter part of chapter 4 instead. (I've done
that sort of thing a lot this past year.) Gardens take a while to cultivate and
grow. If you're growing a garden, you need to take care of it. You need to make
sure each element of your garden gets as much water and sunlight as it needs to
get. If something in your garden needs fertilizer, you need to take the time to
distribute it and let it take effect. If certain rodents have a tendency to
attack or steal from your garden, you need to be ready to protect your garden
from the trespassers. (Of course, a cat could come in handy for this job.)
God is definitely the Master Gardener. If I am His garden, then He is
taking His time to cultivate the things that are growing inside me. Maybe these
are things like love, patience, goodness, faithfulness, self-control, etc. -- things
that can take time to grow.
God is definitely the Master Publisher. Metaphorically
speaking, He is writing a story inside me that He won't publish until He knows
it's perfectly polished. He's going to write, rewrite, revise, and edit. And
then He is going to proofread as many versions as He wants to read until He is
sure that His story will print exactly the way He wants it to print.
Sure, I probably get in the way of the gardening or the editing
process. But God is graciously, enormously, infinitely patient with me, and He
gives me lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of chances to get it right.
God knows me. He knows that I'm an obsessive little sponge of a
meditator. He knows that after years of me soaking in the wrong mire-stuff, He
needs to pull me out of the mire, sandblast me off, and then let me soak in the
right grace-stuff for a while. Perhaps that's what He's been doing with me. Perhaps in a similar way that I say the same things to my cats over and over again -- "Hi,
I love you. I'm so glad that you're my kitties. I'm so glad that I'm your mama"
-- on a neverending loop, God has been communicating the same way with me --
"Hi, I love you. You're Mine. No one will ever be able to take you away
from Me. I'm so glad that you're My child. I'm so glad that I'm your Father. I love
you..."
Even the other night while I was trying to fall asleep, I heard myself ask God, "Do You hate me?" Um... it was a very sincere question that bubbled out of me. Perhaps this is why He's had His work cut out for Him.
Even the other night while I was trying to fall asleep, I heard myself ask God, "Do You hate me?" Um... it was a very sincere question that bubbled out of me. Perhaps this is why He's had His work cut out for Him.
God certainly doesn't deserve to be called "Your
Obviousness," especially considering that the things that He obsessively, incessantly
communicates to me aren't so obvious to me. (Otherwise, maybe He wouldn't
need to communicate them to me so obsessively and incessantly, until they
finally soak in.) He would definitely be "Your Majesty" or "Your
Highness," because He's the King, and there isn't anyone higher than He
is.
And yet, He just wants me to call Him Father, Daddy, Friend, Lord. I think I am still in the process of "getting" that. Hmm. I think I
will let that soak in a bit more.
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