The menudo fast

My church recently finished a 21-day corporate fast. No, I didn’t fast from menudo. But it sure made for some great clickbait, didn’t it?

So, when I prayed about how I was going to fast this time, I felt like God wanted me to fast for only 15 days. (I broke this past Tuesday.) God said I could eat “soup or whatever is put in front of you.” That was fun because one morning, doughnuts were in front of me. And God was OK with that. (And I was also instructed to drink my morning coffee black during the 15 days. No dunking.)

In case you’re reading this and wondering why I’m writing about fasting, well, God and I have kind of developed fasting as a sort of family tradition over the years. In June, I observe a two-week salad fast; in January, I observe a soup fast. Both fasts usually end up kicking my butt, but I’m glad that I get to eat something. And I like to write here about what I learn.

 

This time around, since I’ve been extremely tight on funds, I mainly used whatever was in my kitchen. So, I made a lot of my own soups. I also felt like God kept nudging me to make “dessert soup,” so on a couple of occasions I crumbled up some cookies into a bowl, added milk, and microwaved it. (Whoever thinks God is boring doesn’t know Him very well.)

Whenever I’ve fasted in recent years, it’s been more about God talking to me through the symbolism than about whatever it is I’m giving up. 

 

One day, since I didn’t have any chicken or vegetable stock handy, I decided to make my own stock out of red sauce (I think the kind you would use to make enchiladas). I didn’t realize how spicy that would be... especially after I added even more spices to it. The result was something almost inedible, but as the days went by I would add extra things to the soup like rice or oyster crackers to make it more palatable. Then it would taste like menudo. I felt like I was on a menudo fast.

But when the soup was still almost inedible, I was like, “WHOO! That’s spicy.” God was like “So are you.” Ha, ha.

Yes, if you’ve known me in recent years (or if you’ve just been curious enough to stick around and see what would happen to me), you’ve probably seen me fly off the handle a time or two. So, I got to wondering what kind of things God adds to ME to make ME more palatable. Then I remembered...

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

Hmm. Yes, that would do it.

I also wondered why God wanted me to fast for only 15 days. So, I started looking into the number 15, and according to a website that I found, the number 15 in the Bible symbolizes rest. Hmm. I’ve been through some stuff and could definitely use some rest.

I also got to thinking about the type of fasting I was doing. What’s so special about soup? Well, if it was floating around in a bowl, cup, mug, etc., I could eat it. That was the boundary. Or if I were attending a special event where a specific type of food was served (not soup), I could eat that.

I don’t think it’s an accident that I went back to school while I was fasting. My life has made a sudden shift in direction, as I am now a full-time college student again. During the first week of school, I found myself missing my old college roommate (from the 1990s). I didn’t have anyone interrupting my studies to chitchat, and I didn’t have anyone planning to eat dinner with me every night, so I was able to stay intensely focused on my studies... which I didn’t really do the first time I was in college. But I felt my old workaholic tendencies click on again (the ones that drove me to volunteer for overtime and not have any kind of life while I was working). So, it’s not an accident that I was thinking about boundaries and about how I need to set some new boundaries for myself during this new season.

One thing that will help is that I will start a new part-time job on Monday. I haven’t worked in the past two weeks, and I don’t know how I’m going to pay my rent next week -- other than the fact that God will continue to provide. But I think one reason why I have peace about it -- besides the fact that God will continue to provide -- is that He’s been training me to simply eat what’s in front of me. Rent isn’t due today; it’s not in front of me. Today was my Sabbath; rest was in front of me. I got to gobble that all up. And have I mentioned the fact that God will continue to provide?

The next time I hit the books, there won’t be any reason to obsess over everything that will be due between now and May, and there won’t be any reason to freak out about something that I won’t be able to start working on right away. What I’ll need to focus on is simply what’s in front of me.

Hmm. Now I want menudo.

Phenomenon

I recently began working on jigsaw puzzles in my spare time. I got the idea while I was listening to a church message in which the teacher compared the process of putting a puzzle together to living in the Kingdom of God. So, of course, my mind has stolen that metaphor and run with it.

 

Many years ago, I think I bought this puzzle for my family so that we could put it together, and I think we did once or twice. The other day, I fished it out of my closet and thought I’d work on it... but I soon discovered that a 1,000-piece puzzle was a very ambitious project for just one person. No wonder it takes an entire family to put a puzzle together. I did it myself, but it took me several days (over two weekends). I spent hours on it. As an introvert, it was nice to kind of lose all track of time during the project. I had several seasons of The Office playing in the background while I worked on it, and that is how MeepMeep and I spent our holidays.

But watching the individual pieces come together wasn’t an instant fix. It was a process.

The church teacher explained that when you put a jigsaw puzzle together, you usually start with the corners and the borders. I tried to do that with this particular puzzle, but it didn’t seem to work that well due to puzzle size and color schemes. Instead, since this particular puzzle featured different buildings and quaint scenes, I tried to work on one building and one scene at a time. Since I didn’t have enough space to lay out every piece, I kept most of them in the box and combed through them several times. Each time I went through them, I found several pieces that I needed. (And MeepMeep “helped” me, too.) Gradually, the puzzle came together.

There were several places in the puzzle that really didn’t have any reference point, so the only way to fit them together was by trial and error. There were also several times when I thought a piece would fit... but it actually didn’t, and I had to move it. But if it really fit, it was immediately obvious... and it gave me an immensely satisfying sense of accomplishment. (OK, so I’m easily entertained.)

Since this particular puzzle was so time-consuming, I felt like giving up on it a few times. There were other things I could be doing. There were other ways I could be enjoying my time off. But I decided to stick with it until I was done.

If you’re staring at a puzzle piece and wondering where the heck it’s supposed to fit into the grand scheme of things, you’re frustrated because it doesn’t seem to fit anywhere, and you’re wondering why in the world it ended up in your hands in the first place...

The Master of the puzzle knows where it goes. And He isn’t usually in a hurry to finish the puzzle.

“For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” (Romans 11:29)

The other day during my quiet time, I sang some worship songs and then placed my guitar on my living-room carpet when I was done. I looked down at my guitar and flashed back in my mind to all those other carpets that my guitar had rested on for the past 20 years. I thought about all those living rooms where I had completely lost track of time while I had worshiped, sung songs, written songs...

That’s me. That’s my home. I belong there.

About 21 years ago, as I was riding home after my college graduation, I had a revelation: “I’m right-brained!” I know. It was random. (We right-brained people are like that.) I remember kind of wishing I had known that important piece of information while I was in college. I guess it might have come in handy.

Ironically, I learned how to lead worship (and I learned what “worship music” is for the first time) while I was away at college. I graduated with a degree in something else, and yet while I was earning that degree, I found my calling without realizing it.

God showed me a long time ago that He hid my calling from my parents, and I believe He hid it from pretty much everybody else, too, including myself. Recently He reminded me about that right-brain revelation that I had 21 years ago. I believe that’s when He showed me what my calling was, in a vague, right-brained sort of way... even though I had no idea.

Perhaps He handed me a puzzle piece for safe keeping.

Then as the years went by, I eventually received more pieces of the puzzle. People in choirs would try to sit or stand next to me so that they could hear me sing their part, which kind of annoyed me until I embraced what was happening. I took a spiritual gifts test one time in which “shepherding” was my highest score, which shocked me until God showed me that I had been shepherding people pretty much my whole life. 

And then one day about six and a half years ago while I was driving home, I heard myself say, “I want to be a worship pastor so bad, it’s not even funny.” Whaaaaat? That wasn’t anywhere in my plans, goals, or dreams.

And the Master of the puzzle gradually talked me through the dream that He put inside me... the dream and the design that have been there all along.

“Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:15)

The other day when I explained to a coworker that my schedule would probably change because I’m going back to school, she asked me what I was going to study. When I replied that I’m going to study church music, she laughed. “You have to go to school for that?” she asked. “You can’t just volunteer?” (It’s OK; that’s not the first time anyone has ever pooped on a dream of mine.)

“If you want to be on staff, you need to get training,” I explained.

I didn’t even realize that what I had been doing over the years as a church volunteer would be considered “ministry” -- being a lifegroup leader, leading worship, following up with visitors, writing discussions, praying for people, answering people’s questions, listening to people who needed somebody to talk to, writing a song, singing in a choir, etc., etc., etc.

I thought that’s what everybody did.

But maybe my cat thinks everybody knows how to purr, groom themselves with their specialized tongue, stalk prey, climb on furniture, beg for table scraps, etc., etc., etc. But they don’t. Maybe she wonders why I don’t do any of that. All of that stuff comes naturally to HER because she’s designed to be a cat.

The Master of the puzzle knows what He’s doing when He designs the pieces. And when they all begin to fit together, their design will make sense.

Over the years, He’s shown me that I’ve already been preparing for the ministry... long before I enrolled in school.

Perhaps some of my pastoral design is genetic or generational, considering that I grew up in a pastor’s house. Oh, I saw some crazy things while I was growing up. I saw people who needed to talk through some tough things with somebody. I saw people show up at the house during a pregnancy crisis or during a church-split crisis. I heard people openly criticize Dad during a meeting right before he resigned. One time, I heard about a visitor who invited Dad to her house because she had questions about a sermon that he preached about Adam and Eve. (In hindsight, I’m pretty sure she was flirting.)

That’s what shepherds do. We shovel sheep dung.

I saw my share of crazy things, too, while I was leading lifegroups. Right after college, I heard that many of the girls in my group were crushing on my co-leader, nearly fighting over him, and my section leader had to step in to take care of it because it was distracting. Years after college, when I explained that my group was a safe place to worship God freely and biblically, a visitor asked something to the effect of, “So we can take our clothes off and dance naked before the Lord like David did?” (I believe he was arrested some time after that.) Another time, after another visitor had sexually harassed somebody in our group, and was kicked out of the group as a result, he accosted me in the church foyer, grabbed my arm, and said creepily, “I forgive you.” (I’m glad my church has buff security guards.)

So, over the years, I’ve seen that I’m no stranger to the ministry.

I’ve seen my share of crazy stuff, but I’ve also seen some pretty awesome stuff. After all, we shepherds point people to the Master Shepherd.

I’ve spent time with people, poured into their lives, and seen them become happier with God than they’d ever been before. I’ve listened, I’ve shared what I’ve heard, and I’ve been told later that I ended up relaying messages that turned out to be important. And I’ve experienced how beautiful and breathtaking it is from a worship platform to see thousands of sheep expressing love to the Master Shepherd... to me, that makes it all worth it.

Because people can be silly. When they need prayer, they can sometimes treat you like a vending machine. When they’re frustrated, they can take it out on you. When they’re needy, they can forget that you’re just another human and wonder why you’re not meeting all their needs in the same way that God would. When you make a mistake, they can nail you to a cross and crucify you.

And I’ve done the same thing, too, because I’M people.

So, this is the journey that I’m on. This is the training that I’ll be formally receiving very soon. It’s an exhilarating place, but can also be kind of a scary ride. What if I feel like quitting? (God has already shown me that He’s paying for school; if I were to pay for it myself, it would be easier for me to quit.) What if it’s too hard? (I think considering everything that God has put me through so far, my soul is basically strong enough to bench-press a Buick.) What if I suck at it? (Um, I hope if I sucked at ministry-related things, somebody would have told me by now.) Why would I want to make myself a target for the enemy? (Um, I’ve kind of already BEEN a target for a long time now.) What if people hate me? (Take a number; get in line; join the club.) What if I hate being in vocational ministry? (I’ll have to ask my cat if she hates being a cat.)

What if I fall in love with the ministry? (Then I’ll live happily ever after.)

The word that God gave me for 2019 is “phenomenon,” so I know this will be a phenomenal, incredible, unique year for me.

In this post, I’ve talked about myself... but reader, I know you have your own puzzle, too. I’ll repeat what I said earlier: The Master of the puzzle knows what He’s doing when He designs the pieces. And when they all begin to fit together, their design will make sense.

No matter who joins you on your journey.

 

It’s a Wonderful Life in Review

When I was a kid, Dad was unemployed for a year and a half. During that time, Mom was the breadwinner, and I remember she paid our allowance with the tips she earned from her hairdressing job. Dad, who wasn’t using the education and experience he’d worked so hard to earn, became depressed. He used to sit on our couch and watch our VHS of It’s a Wonderful Life frequently, no matter what time of year it was.

I think I understand why. During the course of the movie, George Bailey experiences a sudden financial crisis and contemplates suicide. He’s cured of this urge when he sees what the world would have been like without him. At the end of the movie, he no longer wants to end his life, and his entire community surrounds him, celebrates his life, and supports him quite richly. People dig deeply into their pockets and make sure he has what he needs to move on.

I think it’s a bummer that Dad didn’t really experience this phenomenon for himself -- at least, not while I knew him. But I’ve experienced it. In the past 16 months especially, people have surrounded me, celebrated me, and supported me during my crises -- financially, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s amazing to see what happens when God puts you on His people’s hearts and they very generously make sure you have what you need. (Thank you!!!!!)

Sometimes you need a little time to just get your bearings so that you can move on to the next step.

 

For me, one unique thing about 2018 has been getting to see my life pass before my eyes. (Perhaps you read my thoughts about this phenomenon in a previous post.) This year, I got a chance to relive many situations, big and small, that I had already experienced in my life. It was kind of like living out a Greatest Hits album or one of those flashback episodes of a sitcom.

For example, the other day, I dusted off my old Atari and played for the first time in many years. (When I was a kid in the 80s and 90s, my sister and I were gamers before gaming was a thing.) Some of the game cartridges don’t work anymore, and I haven’t figured out how to eliminate the static from my TV screen, but the antique game console still serves its purpose. Using it made me feel like I was 12 years old again, in a good way. I would like for this to be a regular form of entertainment for me.

I experienced a ton of déjà vu this year, and I know God designed it that way for me. Pretty much whenever a situation would come along that I felt like I was experiencing all over again, I would see Him flash me an excited look in His eyes, and He’d say, “Your life before your eyes.” Heh.

Just to name a few: I enrolled in college classes, I lost a job, I started hating a job, I worked unconventional hours, I became depressed, I fought suicidal thoughts, I signed up for psychotherapy, I regrew guitar calluses on my fingertips, I fixed some issues with my car, I received free food and other cool stuff from friends, God made sure my rent was paid, and I enjoyed having a lap cat.

Sometimes when I was re-experiencing things, God would remind me that I was reliving the highlights of my life. Sometimes it felt strange at first. I was like, “Depression is a highlight?” And God was like, “OVERCOMING depression is a highlight.” Cool.

 

That part about enjoying a lap cat is pretty special. When Macho died, I lost my lap cat. (Choochie was more of a shoulder cat, like a pirate’s parrot.) But lately, MeepMeep has discovered that my lap is a good place to hang out. (Especially when I’m eating a meal and I drop some food.) If nothing else, one of the best things about this current season of my life is being at home often enough for MeepMeep to develop a closer bond with me and learn how to trust me even more.

Isn’t that how it is with God? We go through difficult things that end up pushing us closer to Him, and He sustains us through those times; and in the process, we realize that we can’t live without Him. And after the trial is over, we still cling to Him because...

As I type this, I’m having a hard time finding the words to complete that last sentence. We still cling to Him, even when things are going smoothly, because... we need Him? we realize how much we need Him? we ache when He’s not around? we love Him? the thought of Him not being close to us makes us panic? His friendship has become the most important thing in our lives? we realize more than ever that we belong to Him, so all we really want to do is just hang out with Him and His family? we realize that we’re toast without Him? we just like Him, and we don’t want to be anywhere that He’s not? we don’t ever want to break our connection with Him? we know that we would break His heart if we would ever consider leaving Him? we know we would be stupid to try? we know that we don’t belong to anybody else? we just want Him, because He wanted us first? have I mentioned that we need Him?

Yes. I think all of the above, plus whatever your heart would add to my heart-gush.

“Many sorrows shall be to the wicked; but he who trusts in the Lord, mercy shall surround him.” (Psalm 32:10)

This year hasn’t just been one long episode of déjà vu. I relearned a few things, too: how to pour out my heart to God, how to submit to authority, how to be assertive, and yet how to keep my mouth shut when I REALLY want to open it.

And I’ve learned some completely new things as well. For instance, I’m pretty much working the first job I’ve ever had that didn’t require me to sit at a desk. The schedule isn’t flexible. We have very little freedom while we’re on the clock. We can only take our break times when they tell us we can take them. And if we show up late for work, we’ll have to wait outside until somebody unlocks the door for us. (I bought a wristwatch to help me keep better track of my time.)

But one part of my life flashing before my eyes has been something that God spoke to me during a church service several years ago. He told me to “embrace awkwardness,” and He explained why: I used to be a Pharisee. Pharisees insist on everything going as perfectly as possible. That way of life doesn’t leave any room for grace. But when you’re in an awkward situation, you have to walk in grace: receiving grace for yourself and extending grace to other people. Otherwise, you’ll be miserable.

But embracing awkwardness -- embracing the fact that people will mess up, YOU’LL mess up, situations will arise that will be out of your control, and it’s OK, because that’s a natural part of life here on earth, and there won’t always be a right or wrong answer to every situation, and you won’t always have to fix everything -- leaves room for God to move. Because people will always be people; they will never be controllable robots. Awkwardness, as painful and embarrassing as it can be, leaves plenty of room for grace.

So, awkwardness is one thing that cures Pharisee-ism.

I think I’m living in the most awkward season of my life, at least schedule-wise. Since I have to be at work extremely early in the mornings, and I get off in the mornings, I sleep during prime time. Yesterday, my body wanted to go to bed at 2 p.m. (as it had the day before), but since that seemed absurd to me, especially since I don’t have to work today, I started writing this post just to keep myself awake. (I was able to make it until about 4 p.m.) I woke up naturally sometime after midnight, and now I’ll be able to finish writing this and post it waaaaay before the crack of dawn.

God has told me that this season of temp jobs is almost over and that I should enjoy it while I can. But I confess -- I’ve had trouble enjoying it. When I get off work (after only a 5- or 6-hour shift), I sit on my couch and think of all the millions of things that I should probably be doing... but am too tired to do... but then I wonder if all those millions of things are really that important. Resting is important. Sleeping is important. Enjoying my cat is important. Just being myself and enjoying the life that God has given me is important. Hmm. Maybe that’s one thing God was talking about: I need to just “be” and not sweat the small stuff. Not to mention -- when I start school again next month, I might not get many opportunities to put my feet up and just enjoy “being.”

So, I’ll enjoy. And I’ll keep trusting. And I’ll keep dreaming... because I think God is waaaaay more interested in my dreams than I am. Heh. You know, they really weren’t my ideas in the first place. They were His.

That most certainly is a wonderful life.

Thankfulness and preparation

Cooking makes me happy. Wow. There. I’ve admitted it.

If you’ve known me for a long time, you’re probably wondering what happened to me. If you’ve just met me and have seen all those food pictures that I post on Facebook, you’re probably wondering what the big deal is. Historically, I haven’t been a domestic person at all. I never really learned how to cook well because I’ve never really HAD to cook very much until last year. For the most part, I can’t afford to go out, eat out, or get takeout. So, the very idea of me cooking is kind of necessity... and kind of a miracle.

Interestingly, a few years ago I started watching Food Network shows as entertainment (because that kind of TV doesn’t make me stumble). I like to watch people teach other people how to do things (because I was raised by a teacher), and I like reality shows (because, as any therapist would tell you, I’m addicted to turmoil). Watching Food Network shows turned into watching other cooking videos on YouTube, and before I realized what was happening, I was almost becoming a foodie. (Almost, but not quite, as far as I can tell.)

Ever since I started going through my financial rough patch, very generous friends have been giving me food... which activated my natural curiosity... which was fueled by watching all those episodes of Chopped and MasterChef UK... which led to me researching recipes online (oh, my gosh, you can find almost anything on the internet)... which led to me cooking things like chicken pasta... while making my own alfredo sauce out of cream cheese (its texture is kind of like a TV dinner that’s been sitting out too long, but it’s not bad). Hmm. I wonder if I could make enchilada sauce taste good with spaghetti? (By the way, if you’ve given me food, THANK YOU!)

 

Oh, and I deep-fry my own tortilla chips now. That’s what happens when you’re out of chips but you have plenty of corn tortillas and oil. And they were awesome to snack on while I typed this.

So, cooking makes me happy. I used to hate cooking because I didn’t see the point of spending hours on a meal that only took a few minutes to eat... and forever to clean up. But I don’t hate it anymore. (I’ve even heard myself talking to my food while I cook it... cuz I’m like that.) I think I get it now. The joy is in the preparation.

You didn’t think this entire post would be about food, did you?

“For every beast of the forest is Mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills... If I were hungry, I would not tell you; for the world is Mine, and all its fullness... Offer to God thanksgiving, and pay your vows to the Most High. Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.” (Psalm 50:10, 12, 14-15)

A few months ago, I had a counseling appointment at my church. The nice lady I spoke with said that she felt like God wanted me to cultivate a thankful heart. (I was reminded later of a time several years ago when I asked for prayer at church; the nice man who prayed for me said that God wanted me to be “thankful for the weirdness” of my job at the time.) So, I’ve tried to be intentionally thankful about pretty much everything. If things were lousy at work, I was thankful to at least have something to do for eight hours. I was thankful for a paycheck. I was thankful that God brought me out here and was taking care of me.

I think I understand one reason why. At my current job, my coworkers complain. A lot. About EVERYTHING. (Gosh. Is that what I sound like when I’m having a hard time with something?) I believe one way to combat that kind of negativity is to “walk in the opposite spirit,” as we charismatics would say. In other words, instead of joining in and complaining with everybody else, I can do the opposite and just be thankful. (One of my coworkers complained about me saying “thank you” too often. Heh.)

From what I understand, Psalm 50 says that God is very serious about thankfulness. He doesn’t seem to care much about any religious sacrifices that we could make. The sacrifices He cares about are thankfulness, following through on any promises that we make to Him, crying out to Him when we’re in trouble, and glorifying Him. He wants to be respected as a Daddy who takes care of us... as a Father who’s more than powerful enough to take care of us when we need Him.

In other words, He wants us to acknowledge that He is God.

So, I’ve been trying to follow that pretty cool prayer model that’s laid out in Psalm 50: Thank You, You own all the money in the world, I’m in trouble, please help Me. My income has been cut drastically in the past month in a half, but God provided a way for me to pay this month’s rent and next month’s rent. And He miraculously provided me with $10,000 to go back to school.

Yes, you read that correctly. In case you haven’t heard yet, an anonymous donor gave extremely generously to my school account. (By the way, if that was you, THANK YOU!) My bill for the spring semester is covered, and I think most of the fall semester will be covered as well. Maybe I could try summer school, too. But I don’t want to think too far ahead.

I’m still learning how to take things one day at a time. That kind of living requires a lot of trusting in God. And He’s taking extremely good care of me. (And hopefully I can use my big mouth to glorify Him instead of getting myself in trouble.)

Today after I learned that they’re cutting back our hours at work, I felt like God told me, “Aren’t you glad you’re going back to school?” Heh. Most definitely. I’m thankful for those jobs I’ve had in the past where management had to make some cutbacks, because I learned how to walk in peace in the midst of it (and it was an awkward learning process).

Speaking of school, I can barely begin to tell you how excited I am about finally getting to prepare to become a worship pastor. (If you’ve read my blog for the past few years, you’ve probably read all about my dream.) I’m not exactly sure what God has up His sleeve, but I know it’s pretty awesome. And He has an extremely awesome sleeve.

There are a ton of unknown variables up ahead, but I don’t need to know everything. I just need to keep trusting the One who DOES know everything. And I know that there’s joy in the preparation.

Restored

Last weekend, I was looking for something fun to do by myself, so I dug an old jigsaw puzzle out of my closet. I picked that particular puzzle because it was small and seemed easy. Nope. It actually turned out to be pretty complicated due to the colors and patterns being similar and -- not to mention -- due to one of the pieces being broken. I was running out of time that particular day, so I put it away so I could finish it later.

This morning, I was spending some time with God and felt like He told me to resume working on the puzzle -- that He and I could work on it together. OH, MY GOSH, IT WENT SO MUCH FASTER WITH HIM HELPING ME. I didn’t have to manipulate any of the pieces to fit; the ones that fit did so quickly, snugly, and obviously. I think we were done in about 15 or 20 minutes.

It’s cool how God will make life fit together the right way if we let Him.

If you’ve been following my blog, you know that I’ve been struggling financially and that I’ve been looking for work again and thinking through what to do next. I think I’ve found a few answers. (Although there are plenty of answers that I don’t really need to know yet.) I applied to go back to school part-time, I got accepted, and lately I’ve been in the process of looking for work that would let me go to school and let me follow through on my current responsibilities.

I would like to offer a disclaimer on what I’m about to say. Please understand that I’m not trying to dishonor, disrespect, or slander anybody. I’m just trying to tell my story.

In 1994, I graduated from high school and went away to college. I didn’t have a perfect experience, but overall I had the time of my life there. What enabled me to attend college was the fact that I had a four-year tuition scholarship, and what helped was 15 hours of AP credit that I had earned in high school. I was a semester ahead of most of my peers, and I was even taking honors classes and preparing to write a thesis.

Then one day, Dad asked me if there was any way possible that I could graduate a semester early because the longer I was in school, the more money it would cost him and Mom. Frankly, since my tuition was already paid for, and since I had financial aid and had been working during the summers and holidays, it really wasn’t costing my parents much to send me to college.

But what could I do? I agreed to graduate a semester early. I forfeited a semester’s worth of my tuition scholarship, I pulled out of the honors program, and I didn’t get to graduate with my class. But I did get to graduate with some new friends who were finishing school in 4 1/2 or 5 1/2 years. I graduated after 3 1/2 years, and I was 21 years old.

Fast forward to recently, maybe about two weeks ago: I was praying about my life (which has kind of taken over my prayer time in recent years), and I felt like God told me something important. I’ve been struggling financially because I haven’t been able to find a job in my degree field or some steady freelance work. I was wondering if maybe I’ve been doing something wrong -- if maybe I’ve been missing something. So, while I was praying, I felt like God showed me that all of this struggle hasn’t been happening because I’m a loser. It’s been happening because He’s restoring SCHOOL back to me.

I graduated a semester early -- in December 1997, when I was 21 years old. I didn’t get to go back to school in January 1998. Now I’m going to go back to school in January 2019 -- 21 years later, when I’m 42 years old. I think the reason why I haven’t been able to make it work financially is because God has restored me to that same state that I was in when I was 21. I was penniless then, and I’m penniless now. I was a starving artist then, and I’m a starving artist now. I was youthful then, and I’m youthful now.

“... who satisfies your mouth with good things, so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” (Psalm 103:5)

I really believe that God has restored my youth. I look in the mirror, and I see that little kid staring back at me. (I took this photo a few weeks ago in a parking garage right before a job interview.) I even weigh a little bit less than I did when I was 21. People ask me how old I am, and they’re shocked when I tell them that I’m 42. People have told me that I look like a college student.

But hopefully I’m wiser than I was half my lifetime ago. Hopefully I’ve worked through a good deal of bitterness that tends to grow on you like barnacles after the ocean of life slaps you around a few times. And hopefully I’ve let God restore some of my innocence.

I’ve gotten kind of tired of starting over in life (because I’ve done it multiple times), but I’m very glad and very thankful that I get to do so again. Because I know why now. In this old blog post, I mentioned how I’ve been keeping one of my shelves empty for school books. It looks like I’m going to get to fill that shelf now.

Do I know exactly how it’s going to happen? No, of course not. I don’t know what tomorrow’s going to look like. I don’t even know how I’m going to pay for it. But do I need to? Why can’t I just trust God -- especially if He asks me to?

Last week, I started a seasonal job part-time at a retail store. I’m on a team that unloads and unpacks the merchandise and puts it on display before the store opens. One night, as I was unpacking strands of Christmas tree garland, I was told that I needed to be careful with it. It was made of glass, and it could break. So, I unrolled each strand carefully. Once I got the hang of it, I unrolled the strands not-so-carefully; they got tangled, and while I was untangling them, I broke one.

God showed me that our issues are like a carefully packed box of glass garland. Sometimes I wonder why He won’t show me all of my issues all at once so that I can just work through them and move on with my life. I mean, if I have codependence, jealousy, lust, religiosity, depression, or laziness all wrapped inside me, why leave it there? Why not just unravel all of that crap and get it over with? Why does God insist on working through just a little bit at a time???

Well, in my zeal to untangle it all, I could end up breaking something that doesn’t need to get broken. I could get hurt, or I could end up hurting somebody. God is the One who carefully unpacks the next strand that needs to get worked on. He makes sure that each piece gets the attention that it needs, and He makes sure that I become whole... and it’s a process. Yes, of course He could just wave a magic wand and POOF! all of my issues could just suddenly go away.

But why would He? What kind of relationship would I have with Him? I think maybe I’ll get to know Him better if He and I will simply unravel the strands together and talk about them, and I’ll learn from them. And if any of the strands are broken, He can restore them. I can trust Him to do that.

At the beginning of this post, I showed you a photo of a jigsaw puzzle in progress. But I didn’t show you the finished product. And that’s OK. Do you trust me?

Identity, grief, and certainty

Happy October 31st! I had originally planned to take an ultra-cool selfie with my mustached feline roommate, but unfortunately she did not participate because she is very easily spooked, regardless of the holiday. (I don’t think my toy plastic mustache freaked her out; I think my frustrated grunt with the awkward way I was holding my phone is what made her scurry out of the room during selfie time.)

Selfies are an interesting phenomenon in our culture. They’re everywhere. I even saw the receptionist at the employment agency that I visited today taking a selfie while I was there.

Yes, you read that correctly. In case you haven’t heard, my temp assignment ended last week, and I’m looking for work yet again. It’s a good thing I’ve been going through psychotherapy again; otherwise, I might be in trouble mentally and emotionally.

 

Earlier this month, MeepMeep scratched the palm of my hand during playtime. It mostly healed, but a few days later, she scratched it yet again, in almost the same exact spot. The second time, it took a long time to stop bleeding. In this photo, it’s the big wound on the lower right part of my palm. You can also see a couple of other tiny wounds in the photo on/near my fingers. When I would wake up in the mornings, I would see them on my hand and briefly wonder if perhaps I had heart problems or something... but come on. I think we all know who put those tiny little wounds there. She’s hanging out near my lap while I type this.

 

Not sure what it is about my hand being a target for minor flesh wounds, but I accidentally wounded my thumb recently in nearly the same spot: once with a fork, a second time with a fingernail from my other hand, both while I was preparing lunch.

My hand is fine. The wounds have been in the process of healing. But I had to keep the wounds covered with band-aids for a short while. Otherwise, major owie.

Healing is interesting like that.

“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)

My psychotherapist is awesome. She’s like a psychology genius, and she operates in the prophetic, so our sessions have been pretty epic so far. I like how she basically summed up how life happens: Trauma happens to you when you’re a child, but you can’t really process it because you’re a child, or else instead of doing practical things like learning how to tie your shoes, you’d just be processing your trauma all the time; but when you’re in your 20s and 30s, all of that trauma bubbles up to the surface, and you have to deal with it years after it happened. Yep.

There were a couple of random days in the past few weeks when I would suddenly get hit with something emotionally. One day while I was having my lunch break in my car, I was thinking about stuff and talking to God about my life, and I started crying. A lot. I wailed like a toddler. I hadn’t wept like that in a long time. My car windows are tinted, and it was raining outside, so I don’t think anyone saw or heard. (I like how God can hide us like that.)

I told my psychotherapist about it, and she was like, Um, yeah, you kinda have a lot of stuff to grieve about. Hmm. I hadn’t really thought about it like that. But she’s right. From what I understand, grief happens when you lose something or someone. In the past 14 months or so, I’ve lost two jobs, friends, a cat, 30 pounds, a good credit rating, dignity, a beloved career, hopes and dreams... and I’m sure the list goes on and on. As my psychotherapist explained, the things that we grieve about tend to build up inside us, but we cover them up with an internal dam; and sometimes when the dam lowers, the grief just gushes out.

From what I understand, things like anger and depression can be part of the grieving process. So, I think that’s why they’ve been gushing out during the past several months.

Another thing my psychotherapist showed me is that I still identify myself as an abuse survivor; but all of us need to move past that victim mentality and walk in victory instead. I thought I had already done that in previous years, but I guess I’ve moved back into that victim-mentality way of thinking. Maybe it’s kind of like being repeatedly wounded in the same place. It leaves a nasty-looking scar.

But there’s always hope when you have Somebody to help you through your process.

So, on Sunday afternoon, I got a call from my temp agency telling me to not report back to work. On Monday morning, I hit the job hunt pretty hard and pretty cheerfully. I’ve noticed that the first day of unemployment is always the most peaceful and hopeful. (Although technically -- at least legally in Texas -- I’m not unemployed, because I’m registered with an employment agency.) But on Monday afternoon, after I had applied for several jobs and got an idea of what’s really available out there, I started to get discouraged. I’ve been applying for jobs off and on for the past 14 months, and I just got tired of seeing the same stuff over and over again. (And, not to mention, the same rejection over and over again.) Around 4:45 p.m. that afternoon, I collapsed on my knees and told God, “I give up.” I hadn’t even made it through the first day.

God replied, “You’re better than this.” So, I exhaustedly scraped myself off the floor and finished my day.

The next morning, He showed me that I had made it through a previous season: “You powered through it like a champ.” He told me to power through this season like a champ as well.

I replied, “Chazaq!” (That’s Hebrew for “strong.” I believe that’s the same word that God used in Joshua 1:9 when He told Joshua to be strong and courageous.) And I felt a lot better.

Of course, anytime you’re going through something like this, it’s important to let God lead you through it and to listen for any specific instructions that He might give you. For this particular trial, instead of getting desert imagery like I have in the past, I felt like I got some ocean imagery: “You don’t have to swim in it; just ride the waves and see what washes up on shore.”

So, this morning, the waves landed me at an employment agency that I hadn’t visited before. The office wasn’t really the most professional environment. While I was there filling out the necessary documentation, the receptionist was Facebooking on her computer. When I was finished, she asked me to wait in the lobby area. Then she proceeded to take a selfie on her phone.

It was at that moment that I felt a tiny little splash of grief crack through my internal dam. What was I doing there? What happened to my life? I have a college degree, I have years of job experience under my belt, and I’m having to start over yet again. How much do I still need to be humbled?

Of course, I couldn’t just start wailing like a toddler right there in the agency’s office. That would be unprofessional. (I really can’t fault the receptionist for her behavior. I used to be a receptionist at a recruiting office, so I understand firsthand how much freedom the office workers are given there.)

But while I was wailing like a toddler during my lunch break in my car awhile back, I told God I didn’t care where I ended up, as long as I was with Him. And I meant it. I still do.

“I have been young, and now am old; yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his descendants begging bread.” (Psalm 37:25)

One of the options I’ve been thinking/praying through lately is the possibility of going back to school. Wouldn’t it be interesting to earn a second degree? Can you see 42-year-old me hanging around a bunch of college kids who are less than half my age? I can. I would frickin’ love that. I think it would be a healing thing, actually. I haven’t always had good experiences with millennials, but maybe spending more time with them would help me have a better opinion of this crazy new generation that I didn’t have a hand in raising. I wonder if I would be like an opinionated old grandma: “When I was your age, we didn’t have all your newfangled internet gadgets. [Hacks an old-lady cough.] I had to walk to class in six feet of snow when I was in college. [Yeah, right, grandma. You went to college in Texas.]”

There’s something about being in your 40s that makes you qualified to say some things. When you’re my age, you’ve seen quite a bit of life; you’ve seen some beautiful things, and you’ve seen some really ugly things, and you’ve hopefully learned from them all. Maybe it’s part of my spiritual gifting (shepherding), but there’s something inside me that screams to share what I’ve learned with other people (probably one reason why I blog).

And I know I have plenty to learn from the younger generation, too.

Actually, I can hear that “Listen to me, youngsters; I’ll give you some wisdom” tone in Psalm 37:25. From what I understand, King David wrote Psalm 37 during his twilight years. When he says, “I have been young, and now am old; yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his descendants begging bread,” I think he’s really saying, “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about, this is just the way it is: God hasn’t ever, EVER turned His back on His children or neglected to take care of them -- not once.” 

OK, David, I’ll take your word for it. I know you wouldn’t have taken the trouble of writing that into a song, and I know God wouldn’t have made sure it made it into the Bible, if it weren’t true.

So, that’s one thing I can be certain of during this season of multiple uncertainties: God will take care of me.