to-do lists, reader boards, and focus

I have a love-hate relationship with to-do lists.

Things I Love About To-Do Lists:

• The warm, happy feeling of satisfaction that results from slashing a big thick line through one of the tasks. Done! Finished! You've accomplished something!
• They remind me to do things that would completely slip from my mind if not put on paper.

Things I Hate About To-Do Lists:

• The cold, sinking feeling of failure that results from not being able to slash a big thick line through all of the tasks. You're slow! Inefficient! You lose!
• I keep adding tasks that would completely slip my mind if not put on paper, to the point where I'm frozen by the onslaught of my own expectations. Classic deer-in-the-headlights response: look at the list! It's long! Where do I start? What do I do? What's most important? How do I pick? Shoot, an hour has gone by and I still can't decide where to start!

Today was my day off, and I didn't get much crossed off the list. The first thing I decided to work on - going over all my finances and creating a working budget - took much longer than I expected. I was nowhere near finished by the time I had to leave for Spanish class, and I left frustrated with how little I had accomplished.

On the way back from class, I passed a readerboard that said, "The smallest action is better than the greatest intention." Ah, I think. This is part of my problem. I "intend" to do so many things that I can't possibly get them all done, and then I get frustrated with myself. But what good are my intentions if I can't (or don't) follow through? Nothing comes of them, except disappointment.

I need to give myself permission to slow down. So often, if I can see (or think I can see) what an end result will look like, I get impatient when the steps to get there take time. One part of me is interested in a lot of different things, and so I try to do all of them, all at once, because I don't want to miss out. The other part of me delights in excellence and would rather not do something at all than do it poorly or halfway. The result is me, caught in the middle, feeling like the world's biggest failure because I'm doing a bunch of different things but I'm not doing any of them well.

I suppose it comes down to this: do I trust God? If so, I need to let some things go. If I truly believe that he loves me and wants what's best for me, I have the freedom say no to things without worrying about "missing out" on anything. (Except maybe the frantic, listless, unsettled feeling that has been following me around lately... I might miss out on that.)

So. I'm at the pont where I intend to do less.

Looks like it's time to revisit the readerboard.

getting drenched

I was finishing up Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies this afternoon (I finally finished a whole book!), and I came across this beautiful quote about letting go & living fully. It's something that I need to be reminded of constantly: life is messy. That's okay.

Christianity is about water: "Everyone that thirsteth, come ye to the waters." It's about baptism, for God's sake. It's about full immersion, about falling into something elemental and wet. Most of what we do in worldly life is geared toward our staying dry, looking good, not going under. But in baptism, in lakes and rain and tanks and fonts, you agree to do something that's a little sloppy because at the same time it's also holy, and absurd. It's about surrender, giving in to all those things we can't control; it's a willingness to let go of balance and decorum and get drenched.

September newsletter article

I was one of the "good kids" growing up. I did my homework. I had friends that were more or less responsible. I was active in church and youth group. I believed in Jesus.

Really, though, underneath my "church kid" appearance, I was coasting. It wasn't until my junior year of college that I really started to understand that believing in Jesus and loving Him are two very different things. And the reason I started to understand was because I had two friends that didn't just believe in Jesus - they spent time with Him, interacted with Him, let themselves be loved by Him, and loved Him in return. Because they allowed me to witness that relationship at work in their lives, I caught a glimpse of what a relationship with Christ should look like in my own... and I began to grow.

You see, I was a Theology major in college. I studied the Bible inside and out. I aced exams on Paul's letters. I knew about Christianity. But none of my professors and none of my classes pushed me forward the way that my friends did. That's because the thing that truly transforms people is not hearing a convicting sermon, or being trained in theology: what is transformational is seeing Christ active in someone's life. That's why Paul spent so much time giving encouragement and instruction about how to live in community with other believers: because iron sharpens iron. When we let others walk alongside us and bear witness to our relationship with God, He uses our story to reach and encourage others. It's not because we are perfect or wise or holy... it's because Jesus, the Word of God, lives in us, and He is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. He can take even our sinful, broken stories and use them to encourage and sharpen the hearts of our brothers and sisters. But he can't do that unless we let others in.

We do not exist in a vacuum. We are constantly influencing the lives of the people that God directs into our paths, whether we want to or not: but we can choose to live with intentionality. We can choose to share our lives with others - not superficially, but honestly.

I leave you with a quote from Thomas Merton's No Man Is An Island.

As long as we secretly adore ourselves, our own deficiencies will remain to torture us with an apparent defilement. But if we live for others, we will gradually discover that no one expects us to be "as gods." We will see that we are human, like everyone else, that we all have weaknesses and deficiencies, and that these limitations of ours play a most important part in all our lives. It is because of them that we need others and others need us. We are not all weak in the same spots, and so we supplement and complete one another, each one making up in himself for the lack in another.

Verses Referenced:
Colossians 3:12-17, Proverbs 27:17, Hebrews 4:12, Romans 1:11

bless it!

hide, n. the skin of an animal, esp. when tanned or dressed.

This morning after breakfast, my roommates learned that my eyes had yet to be graced by the delightful scenes of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. The situation was immediately remedied - I haven't laughed that much at a movie in quite some time.

All I have to say after finishing it is this: the next time some burly mountain man wanders into Anacortes and starts swinging around lampposts belting out "Bless your beautiful hide!" in a resonating bass, I just might swoon.

As long as I can finish my chores first.

...and sometimes, he's obvious about it.

I have this problem. I've turned 23. That means that the days of piggybacking onto my parent's health insurance plan are over, and it's up to me to research, choose, and purchase a health insurance plan so I don't go broke if I break my arm. (get it? broke... break... *cough*)

The truth of the matter is, I've been putting this off for months now. My poor mom. First it was, "Courtney, you had better buy health insurance... you'll lose coverage in April!" Then it was, "Courtney, you're losing coverage this month, so you had better hurry up and buy health insurance..." Finally, the tone grew more frantic (or exasperated) and the mantra became, "Courtney! YOU'RE NOT INSURED. You haven't been for a month. You've got to buy health insurance NOW."

Yeah, yeah. I get it, you know? I need to be covered in case fall over when I'm rollerblading, or in case I accidentally drive my car through Burger King. But I put it off... and put it off... and put it off... the idea of spending hours wading through pages of insurance lingo just wasn't very motivating. I even put sticky notes all over my room that said things like, "BUY HEALTH INSURANCE" and "Look both ways before crossing the street... YOU'RE NOT INSURED." Still didn't do it.

Finally, last Friday rolls around. It's my day off, and I'm laying in bed trying vainly to formulate a to-do list for the day. Jesus, I'm praying, what do you want me to use this day to do? How would you have me spend it? I'm drawing a blank, I can't even think right now. Help!

I get up to check my e-mail. First one I open says this, no joke:

And they tell me that God doesn't have a sense of humor... pssh. Either that or he's like my mom, thinking, "Does she really have to ask me what to do today? Sheesh, girl. Use that brain I gave you!"

I'm insured now. Regence has some great high-deductible plans that still cover preventative care...

...?

There have been several times in the past week when I've wanted to write something. But that's about where my thought process stops: because as soon as I think, yes, updating my blog is just the thing to do right now, I draw a complete blank as to what to write. Total creative void. Blogger's block. I've been doing the same thing with journaling, too (which I think is just a poor excuse to not do it.)

Usually I find that, even when I start out with nothing but dust specks floating around in my mind, the process of composing thoughts on paper kicks my mind into gear. A lot of times it takes several minutes of writing for me to realize what's really on my heart.

... bah. Too tired to really think now. On an entirely irrelevant note, a friend introduced me to seeqpod.com - a really useful site that lets you search for songs and videos and add them to an online playlist (thanks, Bryce!). I've been using it to make playlists to listen to at work. If you click on the link in the sidebar, you can link to a playlist of the songs that are stuck in my head. Then the can be stuck in your head, too. Aren't you glad?

thoughts on rain

I'm sitting at my dining room table, wearing my favorite pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and drinking a mug of chicken noodle soup. Shawn McDonald is playing in the background, and through the triple sliding glass doors I am witness to a green world that has been drenched in grey. Beautiful.

Many people have questioned my sanity when I divulge my love for rain. To them it's dreary, depressing. They think they have to stay indoors. They prefer the happy, exuberant rays of sun on cloudless days. Don't get me wrong: I don't not like the sunny-with-a-high-of-75 days. They're freeing. They give the spirit a chance to fly, dance, sing, and soak in warmth. They possess a certain care-free beauty that certainly isn't captured by rain.

But days like this have a way of enveloping you. To me, they speak of peace. Calm. A great thick blanket of cloud dampens and subdues the world beneath it, and it gives my spirit permission to settle. It's cleansing. Rain has a slower, more relaxed attitude than sunshine does; he's one of those extraordinary people who listen fully and are able say what needs to be said by just standing there next to you, or by asking the right question.

This afternoon I set out to do a quick cross-training workout, and what was supposed to be a 30-minute interval run turned into a two-hour run/walk/hike through the trails. It's exactly what I needed: standing in the middle of the forest, mud spattered all up my legs and water dripping off the rim of my hat, just watching and listening to the rain. Beautiful. Thanks, Jesus.

The Mutinie

Weary of this same Clay, and straw, I laid
Me down to breath, and casting in my heart
The after-burthens, and griefs yet to come,
           The heavy sum
So shook my brest, that (sick and sore dismai'd)
My thoughts, like water which some stone doth start
Did quit their troubled Channel, and retire
Unto the banks, where, storming at those bounds,
They murmur'd sore; But I, who felt them boyl
           And knew their coyl
Turning to him, who made poor sand to tire
And tame proud waves, If yet these barren grounds
           And thirstie brick must be (said I)
                      My taske, and Destinie,

Let me so strive and struggle with thy foes
(Not thine alone but mine too,) that when all
Their Arts and force are built unto the height
           That Babel-weight
May prove thy glory, and their shame; so Close
And knit me to thee, That though in this vale
Of sin, and death I sojourn, yet one Eie
May look to thee, To thee the finisher
And Author of my faith; so shew me home
           That all this fome
And frothie noise which up and down doth flie
May find no lodging in mine Eie, or Eare,
           O seal them up! that these may flie
                      Like other tempests by.

Not but I know thou hast a shorter Cut
To bring me home, than through a wildernes,
A Sea, or Sands and Serpents; Yet since thou
           (As thy words show)
Though in this desart I were wholy shut,
Canst light and lead me there with such redress
That no decay shal touch me; O be pleas'd
To fix my steps, and whatsoever path
Thy sacred and eternal wil decreed
           For thy bruis'd reed
O give it ful obedience, that so seiz'd
Of all I have, I may nor move thy wrath
           Nor grieve thy Dove, but soft and mild
                      Both live and die thy Child.

--Henry Vaughan (1622-1695)

"Even when prayer is inchoate in something that sounds like a curse or a moan or a desperate plea or a spontaneous "whoopee," there is a gut deep, intuitive refusal to accept the odds or to calculate too closely either the limits of the possible or the sneakiness of grace."
- Ted Loder

torn

Speaking vs. listening. Resting vs. acting. Seeking God vs. letting Him pursue me. Knowledge vs. understanding. Forgiveness vs. living uprightly. Loving vs. service. Walking with someone vs. teaching them. Sprinting vs. walking vs. pacing yourself. Waiting vs. plunging forward. Going to bed right now and getting a "good night's rest" vs. staying up and waiting until I hear something, anything.

There are so many voices that pour into us each day, each season in our lives. Some are loud. Some are timely. Some are poignant. Some make sense. Some ignite a longing in us. Some don't make sense at all. Some are intriguing. Some are whispers from God, giving us comfort, affirmation, and challenge along the way. Some are flat-out wrong.

So how do we sift through all that noise and filter it, retaining what is True?

Jesus, my mind is spinning with so much... stuff. Unprocessed thoughts, dreams, the beginnings of meaningful values that just can't seem to get sorted out. Dissenting opinions and advice. I know that You are Truth. Teach me to listen.

Sue, part VII

Sue is back!!

I made the drop this morning and it went off smoothly. A random lady was pacing suspiciously near the back of the cemetery, but I didn't want to investigate for fear that Sue might get hurt. I kept my head down and left.

Then, this afternoon, a friend came over and she found Sue sitting outside the door when she arrived. I can't even begin to describe the relief that flooded over me when I realized that Sue was home - safe - and that this whole nightmare is finally over. She is now back on her shelf, safe and sound. It's so good to have her home.

Sue, part VI

Here is the CD, ready for drop. I even found a way to host the song so you can hear it!



I just hope our humble little recording will be enough to appease Sue's captors (and apparently Sue herself!). The house just isn't the same without her here.

Sue, part V

We received another random ransom request this evening. Sarah found it stuck in our door. The worst part is, from what the note said, it seems as if Sue isn't being held entirely against her will. Is this just a cruel ploy by the kidnappers to make us doubt Sue's desire to return home? I hope so. They are probably sitting around drinking cocktails, laughing as we fulfill their ridiculous requests.



Well, as you can see, this complicates things. Learn, practice, and record a song? Who are they kidding? Immediately after reading the note I took the sheet music to the piano to see what could be done. Turns out it wasn't too complicated and I was able to come up with a nice little arrangement that Sarah and I recorded into my laptop. The song was exported; the CD was burnt. Now we just have to wait until Wednesday to make the drop.

I wonder if this truly will be the last thing that is required of us before Sue is brought home. My cynical mind isn't letting my heart conjure up too much hope. But then again... "It goes without saying what will transpire should you fail to complete this request." That's a pretty vague statement. Maybe the captors are running out of threats. Maybe they're ready to stop this senseless game of cat-and-mouse and let Sue come home.

Sue, part IV

Luckily, Sue's kidnappers know when to acquiesce to our requests: I found a note this morning underneath my windshield wiper that contained the picture I asked for. As of Wednesday when the paper came out, Sue was safe and had not been defaced. A small comfort in the face of the pain that numbs my heart each time my eye wanders to her vacant shelf, but a comfort nonetheless.



No mention yet of Pete. Either they haven't discovered that he's gone, or he has nothing to do with them and I swiped him out of the flower bin for nothing.

I hope "further instructions" come quickly. Each day that passes makes me more inclined to worry and less inclined to cooperate. But I feel as if I really have no choice - the ball is still in their court. All it takes is one swipe of a sharpie, and...

... I'd really rather not think about it. I will continue to believe that she's safe. I have to.

Sue, part III

I made the drop today. Drove up, left the plastic bag with the ransom just like the note said, and left. I had to buy a gigantic bag of Swedish Fish, too, because I couldn't find a small bag anywhere. Sue had better be safe.


When I was at the drop site, I found a broken garden gnome in a bin marked "Plastic Flowers." I don't know what this means. I took him home. His name is apparently "Pete," because that's what's painted on his hat. There were no drugs hidden inside. I checked.


To Sue's Captors: Please. I did as you asked. What more could you possibly want? Please let me know that Sue is unharmed. Please bring her home.

Sue, part II

I finally received further instructions from Sue's captors. There was a note stuck in my door when I got home after lunch.

click on the picture to enlarge it and read the note

I hope they aren't hurting her. They know what they want: these are very specific demands. I'm going to scope out the cemetery this afternoon and make sure I know where the drop location is. I can't take chances here - not when Sue's face is on the line.

Sue, part I

Sue has been taken.

Sue, who has occupied a place of honor on the living room bookshelf for almost two months, is gone.

Let me back up. Sue is the woman in the Kiwanis picture that I wrote about in December. We decided that she was random enough to deserve her own shelf in our living room, and we have grown quite fond of her. But when I got home from work this evening, something was terribly wrong: Sue's smiling face was missing. In her place was a hand-written note whose contents confirmed my worst fears. Sue has been kidnapped and is being held ransom.

The empty space in the bookshelf is where Sue lived. You can see the white note.


The contents of the ransom note.

Why is this happening? What has Sue ever done to them? We live in a cruel world, my friends.