questions

I have a love-hate relationship with questions. Everything I hate about questions: the uncertainty, the waiting, the grayness, I love about questions.

Questions propose something is missing or unknown. Questions yearn for an answer, a solution, some certainty. Questions can challenge, convict, or cast doubt. But no question, according to my high school science teacher, is ever stupid...it may be a "Bone-Head Question" resulting with your name on the board to promote embarrassment, but it is not a stupid question.

Questions, if they're good questions, can never be answered with one word. Good questions require reflection, a seeking-out, soul-searching time. Good questions spur on deep thinking and consideration of absurdities. Good questions encourage self-examination.

There are three good questions that I am ruminating over tonight. Three seemingly simple questions...loaded with meaning, difficult to answer.

"Where did you come from?" (Genesis 16:8)

"Where are you?" (Genesis 3:9)

"Where are you going?" (Genesis 16:8)

These questions were asked by God to other people in history, but tonight, I feel as if He's asking me. I could answer these questions quickly: I came from my mother's uterus. I am in my bedroom. I am going to sleep. But when I really think about these questions, I can't come up with one solid answer.

Not every question has an easy answer. Some questions can only be answered with more questions. But all questions cause us to do one thing: seek. Seek out the answer, search for truth, look inside yourself.

So tonight, I'm looking inside. I'm remembering my past...where I was 6 months ago when I started my first nursing job...2 years ago when my heart was infected with a love for Africa...4 years ago when I prepared for college...15 years ago when I prayed to Jesus. Where did I come from? How has my past shaped my thinking? How have my failures made me better? How did my upbringing affect me? Where did I come from?

Tonight, I'm looking inside. I'm considering my current situation. You know, that place you don't want to be, as evidenced by constantly looking at your calendar. Making plans, resolutions, bucket lists. Everybody wants to better, more whole, more patient, more giving. Seldom do we stop and reflect on our current location. Geographical, emotional, relational...where am I? Where I am is more than my mailing address. It's hard to not be frustrated with where I am tonight. Jim Elliot once said, "Wherever you are, be all there." That's what I want. To be present, to be genuine, to be grateful.

By far the most difficult question is the last..."where are you going?" Honestly, I have no clue. I have made God laugh for the past 12 months by telling Him all my plans. So tonight, I'm not making plans. Maybe that makes me unfocused, passion-less, flighty. Regardless, I look good in gray sweatpants, waiting in the uncertainty of this question. Not having an answer requires me to quit looking inside myself. Instead, I look out and up and around. I keep moving, one step at a time knowing that I never go anywhere alone. Not knowing where I'm going is scary, but so good.

Three questions. No solid answer. Beautiful.

So may you ask these three questions tonight. May you reflect, think, and seek. And I pray at some point in this process, you will realize God's up to something bigger than just you.

bubbles

I don't know a single child that doesn't love bubbles. There is something mesmerizing about the pocket of air surrounded by a thin film of watery/soapy solution. The way bubbles are created is fascinating. The way they move is inviting. And the way they reflect light to make a rainbow is magical. Every kid likes bubbles.
Thanks to the invention of sweet gadgets, you no longer have to go blue in the face making bubbles. These gadgets come in many different sizes, styles, and colors but are all bubble makers. Whether you pull a trigger like a gun or turn a switch on a machine, you get bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles.

If you've ever watched a kid with bubbles, you'll notice how fixed the kid becomes with a certain bubble. With 10 bubbles floating around, the kid zooms in on a bubble, losing sight of everything else. Wherever the bubble floats, the kid is steps behind, arms stretched out to grasp the bubble. The mile-wide smile and the shrieks of elation...the joy of the bubble.

But then, the bubble pops.

And the elation turns to devastation. The lip quivers, the head hangs, and the tears fall.

As the adult sitting in the lawn chair with the bubble maker, you think to yourself, "Really? How could that child get so enraptured by that bubble? How can the child not see that if he/she would just turn around, there's more bubbles? Yes, that bubble is gone. But return over here, because something else will be available to you. You can't have a bubble if you don't return to the bubble maker."

Then the child asks the famous three-letter question, "Why? Why this bubble? Why did this bubble have to pop?" You, the bubble maker want to answer, except answering why may not actually help the child. Bubbles are created. And bubbles pop. It's the nature of bubbles...

So, I'm not really talking about the pocket of air trapped in a film of a watery/soapy solution.

We have bubbles in our lives. Beautiful, fascinating, inviting, magical bubbles. These bubbles come from the Bubble Maker and are meant to be enjoyed. They are to be appreciated. They should make us smile and shriek with glee. Bubbles are the things we become transfixed with...but eventually pop. The perfect job, children's good behavior, physical beauty, 20/20 vision, love of a spouse, creative music, a car, an education, success of a business, health, loyalty of a friend...Eventually, each of these bubbles pop.

And when they do, it's sad. The bigger the bubble, the longer it lasts, the sadder it is. Yes, it's sad when a bubble pops. But it doesn't have to be sad all of the time, not forever.

We are always being invited to return to the Bubble Maker...to the source of the bubbles, the source of our joy. To fix our eyes over and over again on the Giver of these good things. Because He keeps making more bubbles. We find an abundance of bubbles at the feet of the Bubble Maker. At the popping of one bubble, He is making something else available. We never forget the old bubbles that popped, or the sadness we experienced then, but we focus on something else. We focus on the Bubble Maker, because He doesn't float away or pop.

So turn back to the Bubble Maker...because He's not done.

*thanks Shane Hipps for teaching me about bubbles*

my social unit

When I was little, my sister and I had a room full of Barbie dolls. Sister #3 and I appropriately called it "The Barbie Room" as it was a large room filled with Barbies. We each had a large, five-room wooden house, built by our father. We had a plastic beach house and another large, five-room wooden house that belonged to sister #2. That's right, four houses. But in addition to the houses, we had garages, pastures and barns for our horses, backyards with picnic tables and trampolines and hot tubs. We had a shopping center with a grocery store, a hat store, a sports store, a clothing store, and a shoe store. We had a preschool and an elementary school, a bowling alley and an arcade game room, a nursery and a dentist office. We had a pet parlor and a veterinary clinic, a boat and a jet ski, and vehicles. Boy, did we have vehicles! Convertibles, Volkswagon Beetles, mini vans, SUVs, jeeps...And as one would suspect, we had plenty of Barbies. Every size and every race. I alone had over 30 'Kelly' dolls. Obsessive? Perhaps. Sister #3 and I would spend hours playing Barbies. The beauty of our dolls was creating a story with enough drama and humor each night to keep us in that room until our parents forced us to go to bed. I could control everything about my Barbies. Barbies were the closest I could get to making a movie plot real.

In fact, I always loved movies and secretly wished my life would be a movie. Even when I got too old for Barbies, I would make lists of songs that I thought should be played at different scenes if my life were a movie. And Hallmark movies flamed the fire of desire for a life that screamed 'watch me on a big screen'. 

Since packing my Barbies away in boxes years ago, I've been done creating intriguing story lines. But I still catch myself secretly wishing my life would be a movie.

Because this movie would be incredible.
As no surprise to those who know me well, awkward moments would dominate many of the scenes. The songs throughout the movie would make your ears rejoice in the goodness of music. The love story would be lame and practically nonexistent. The meaningful, quotable moments would come from conversations with old friends. The fun dance scene would be a composite from weekends with college girl friends (one that other girls would youtube to learn). And this movie of my life would not be complete without family vacations. 

Family vacations are horrible and wonderful at the same time. I think this is because family brings out the best and absolute worst in a person. Family knows you well, which is refreshing and sometimes frustrating. With family, there are no fake smiles, no 'pardon me's, and no successful lying. This last weekend in KC was worthy of a scene in the movie of my life. Seven people crammed in a little Explorer with enough luggage and food to last a month. Five adults and two children staying in a hotel room with one bed. Potty training, art museums, a beautiful wedding, inside jokes, deep belly laughs, honesty, tears, hugs, dancing, driving the wrong way on a one-way street, shopping, diarrhea, beer tasting, making crafts, sharing food...family.

Here's what I'm coming realize: my life is better than any plot I could have imagined for my 'Barbie family'. And no movie scene could adequately capture the essence of my family. There is nothing quite like it. My family has had a critical part in shaping my life. My family has taught me how to love, sacrifice, celebrate, forgive, and communicate. Dynamic, opinionated, loud, and at times dysfunctional...my family is real. My family gives and loves and hopes. Better than the Tanner's, the Cosby's, or the Brady's...my family is mine. What a shame it would be if I came to the end of my life and realized I lived vicariously through television actors or characters from a book. What a shame to look far off for something deep and meaningful, beautiful and rich, when family was right in front of my face. I cannot control the dialogues, circumstances, or weather as I could with my Barbies. I cannot rewind or undo that which has been done. This life isn't perfect. And that's just fine. Because this life is such a precious gift. And at the root of it all is family.

the human race

I watched the movie, "The Switch", with my dad this evening. It made me laugh and cry and think. I'm still thinking as one of the dialogues repeats in my head...

"Look at us, running around. Always rushed, always late. I guess that's why they call it the human race. What we crave most in this world is connection."

Somewhere between graduating college and becoming a "grown-up" with her own insurance, her own "grown-up" job, and the loan repayment plans, I jumped on the track and began running the human race. Well, maybe I was running it long before college even started. Regardless, tonight I realized I am running, but not elegantly like a wild horse through the mountains. No, I'm running like an awkward chicken that just got it's head chopped off. 

If you've ever seen a headless chicken run, you know what I'm talking about. As a 6 year old on Grandma & Grandpa's farm, butchering day is terrifying. But as a 22 year old watching youtube videos of decapitated chickens, it's quite reflective and sobering. Sure, there's the weird flapping of the wings, which is really the adrenalin in the muscle tissue that gives the bird convulsions (thank you Google). But there's this bird that shouldn't be doing what it's doing. This frenzied manner is the same that describes many of our lives. We have schedules and planners and calendars. We have appointments and dates and meetings. We have work. We have play. We have obligations and responsibilities. We have clocks and watches and alarms. We run, we swim, we ride, we bike, we walk. We talk fast, we eat fast, we drive fast. The human race.

A holiday, according to dictionary.com is a period of time where one is exempt form work, duty, or business. So why then, do the majority of people yearn for the rest that will come once the holidays are over? What an oxymoron. A holiday is about rest. It's about ceasing what you normally do and acknowledging the holiness of that day. But yet, the holidays are busy, stressful, and exhausting. The human race.

We have toys. We don't all love the same kind, but we all love our toys. Cars, books, ipads, paints, cameras, gaming systems, yarn, Netflix, jewelry, guitars, board games, snowmobiles, blogs, iTunes, gardens, fishing poles. Our toy started as an interest, something that connected us with people who liked the same thing. We received refreshment and enjoyment from our toy. But sometime between then and now, we slipped. We love this toy more than we love people. Of course, you'd never hear that come out of our mouths, but it's true. We'd rather spend our time, our money, our thoughts on this toy. How we can get more? How we can improve? How we can make more? We're awfully close to the line of obsession. The human race.

And with all of this running, we're drained. We're weary and worn out. We're impatient and easily annoyed. We're discouraged and downhearted. We have headaches and worries and tears. And we feel more isolated than ever before. All of these technological advances in an effort to connect us with others around the world leaves us sitting alone at night, staring at our computer in silence. All of this running has made us hungry, but not for more toys or more running. We're yearning and aching for something real. We crave connection. Deep, meaningful connection.

Just as the headless chicken should not be running around, we should not be in this frenzied manner. We were made to breathe, to sit, to dream, to enjoy, to rest, to listen. This life was never meant to be done alone. But in this human race, we forget. We get so caught up in ourselves and our to-do list that we forget. We forget all the running will not rejuvenate, but only deplete us of our energy. We forget that all of our toys and busy agendas, if not balanced with real, life-giving relationships, will only leave us hungry.

Tonight is a call. A call to stop running no, it's a call to slow down. It's a call to fight for what is real. It's a call to reach out and connect. It's a call to quit flapping your wings and convulsing. The human race will continue. It cannot and should not be stopped. But you do not have to run it at the same pace as everyone else.

Have you ever actually smelled the roses?