Is There No Rest For The Weary???

One week with little to no sleep is definately catching up to me. How much longer can this continue before I start to go crazy? Physically I'm exhausted, but my brain refuses to shut down and as a result I toss and turn and when sleep finally does arive it is shortly interupted by my brain starting back up. Is there no rest for the weary? Won't my thoughts take some time to relax? Time and time again I've prayed that I'll be given a break from my own thoughts, but no matter how hard I try to distract myself I cannot excape them. My appetite is gone. I have no desire to listen to music. Even movies and books cannot keep my attention. Three hours into my ten hour work shift last night my eyes were already blood shot due to my exhaustion, but even if I could have layed my head down to sleep at that time I wouldn't have been able to. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. God......Help!

Learning to Let The Artist Take Control

Today is a new day that God has given me. Yesterday's problems, worries and fears are put aside and a blank piece of canvas is laid out before me. What will this new work of art turn out to be? I do not know, but I trust the artist to not to disappoint. One of the difficulties with working with this Artist, however, is the picture that He and I have in mind usually are not the same. But I have to lean on the understanding that He is the master and I am a mere servant. While He spews out paintings that dwarf the works of Picasso, Van Gogh and Da Vinci, I remain in the corner with crayons drawing stick figures. Nonetheless, giving up control to Him, and taking my hand off of the paint brush is not easy, yet for the work to turn out as He imagines, I must do just that. As I loosen my grip on the paint brush, I begin a free-fall into His loving embrace.

What Have I Become?

The funniest thing happened to me the other day. I was sitting at work when I glance over to the TV I noticed an infomercial for a CD set of the greatest music from the 90’s. As the song titles scrolled up the screen I found myself saying aloud, “I remember when that song first came out” and “can you believe that was popular when I was a freshman in high school?” when all of a sudden it hit me. I’ve become one of them. You know who they are. They are the men walking through the grocery store proudly sporting their tattered KISS t-shirt and their motorcycle boots. They are the ones with the hair cuts that went out of style circa 1987 but don’t seem to care that they let their subscription to GQ expire. They still use the same pickup lines that they used twenty years ago and wonder why they don’t give them the desired results. I can only assume that they woke up one morning and stopped listening to any music that hit the airwaves after that moment. And now, I have joined their ranks I guess this means I know what I must do. I need to go out and buy six of every piece of clothing that currently hangs in my closet so that I will always be prepared. I need to cancel my membership to the music club and change my CD player from shuffle to repeat. While I’m at it I should probably go and buy a few extra CD players so when the “next big thing” hits the stores I won’t have to worry about not being able to listen to my good ol’ tunes. In ten years when you run into me at the store I’m sure you’ll still recognize me. No, I won’t be wearing a KISS t-shirt but rather the faded Gap polo. You’ll recognize my pickup lines because they’ll be the same ones that you heard when we first met. Instead of KISS you’ll hear Creed. And yes, the scent of Hugo Boss #6 that will still announce my presence.

Starbucks Vs. The Church

For the last nine months I have been attending a church on a fairly regular basis and while my work schedule tends to keep me from attending every service the church holds, I have been able to make it to at least one if not two services every other week. After attending the church for this amount of time, I still feel as if I am a stranger in a crowd. Week after (every other) week I arrive with plenty of time before the service begins and I usually take my time leaving after its conclusion but so far no one has taken time to talk to me. Now, to be fair, I have had two people come up to me and say hello but both of those individuals were professors of mine from college. Before I get feedback from those who say “You shouldn’t be looking for your church to meet your interpersonal needs” I will say that my goal in going to church is not for have “my friendship needs” fulfilled but I will admit that recently I have asked myself why is it that I feel more welcomed at Starbucks than in a place where a thousand people profess God. Apart from leaving Starbucks with my beloved Soy Carmel Macchiato in hand, I normally am warmly greeted upon my visit and on several recent occasions, the employees have even had my special drink awaiting me by the time I made it through the line. I can honestly say that my spirits have been lifted more times within the last nine months by being treated like a real person at Starbucks, than by how my “body of believers” has treated me. While I don’t plan on changing the scriptures to read “Forsake not the assembling of yourselves at the pusher of America’s last legal drug” I wonder if those at the house of God could learn something from the pride of Seattle, the purveyor’s of the almighty bean.

Selfish Gentleman Seeks Imperfect Lady

I want to be in a relationship, but I think it is because I am selfishly full of wants. I want to have someone to lavish gifts upon. I want someone that I can surprise by having a single flower awaiting her on her desk when she arrived to work. I want someone that I can make feel special not for how she looks or what she does, but just because she IS special. I want to take her a bowl of chicken noodle soup when she isn‘t feeling well. I want to be the one to help her pick out the pair of shoes that will match the dress she bought for the special night. And I also want to be the one who returns the three additional pairs that she didn’t like once she tried the dress on. I want to spend hours on the phone without saying a word , but know that I did the right thing because all she needed someone who would listen. I want to give her a hug when no words can fix the situation. I want to spend all day working on her favorite dinner because I know she had a stressful day. I want to encourage her to go shopping with her friends even though I had planned a quiet evening for just the two of us. I want to miss the big game on TV because it is opening night at the theater and her favorite play is in town. I want to see the surprise on her face when I finally ask the question. I want to be the one that arrives at the church hours early to make sure that our day is perfect in every way. I want to spend three hours waiting for her at her car to surprise her when she leaves work on our anniversary. I want to be the one to tell her she is beautiful when she asks for the third time if the outfit makes her look fat. I want to be the one that encourages her to spend more on herself and enjoy every moment of it. I want to encourage her to get some sleep while I pace the floors trying to hush the newborn’s cry. I want to tell her that one mother’s day a year isn’t enough to show my appreciation for her. I want to give her the afternoon alone by taking the children to story hour at the library. I want to tell her that I don’t mind that she doesn’t look like she did on our wedding day, because I feel that she is even more breathtaking. I want to be with her when the doctor breaks the news that we had been fearing. I want to spend restless nights sitting in her hospital room instead of comfortable nights away from her side. I want to ease her concerns that we will not be able to make it without her. I want to give her permission to let go, while inwardly I am pleading for her to stay. I want to be the one to say the last prayer for a miracle and yet not lose faith when the prayers don’t seem to be answered. I want to be there to say the final goodbye. I want to be the one to experience the loss instead of having her mourn my passing. I want to be the first one at the church and last one to leave the graveside. I want to look back and not feel remorse for years missed but rather joy for the years we had. And I want to breathe my last breath knowing that her love was the closest thing that I ever experience to the love of God.