Hiatus

Hello,

My last post was a recommitment to blogging more faithfully. It is almost two week later and I have yet to post again. I promise you that I am much more dependable in most other aspects of my life.

The day after I wrote here I received that sad news that my Grandma had passed away suddenly. It's been a rough week. But, what a comfort and peace it brings to know that she is with her Savior and with the love of her life, Lenny again. Her memorial service was this past Saturday and it was so good to spend a day celebrating her life. So many people spoke and shared how she had impacted their lives. She loved so deeply and made everyone she met feel precious and cherished. Her mission in life was to share the story of Hope and Salvation through Christ to as many people as she could, and she did just that. In fact, she led her nurse to the Lord less than twenty-four hours before she passed away. I am so blessed to have had her in my life. But, I am going to miss her so very much. My heart is really hurting.

I've done a lot of thinking this past week. I've looked at life and I've decided that I need to take a break. I have written 114 blog entries this year. That is a lot. Blogging has been a healing and learning experience for me. I've done things and overcome things that I never thought were possible. And, I'm so grateful for it all. But, there are other things I feel like I need to focus on. The holidays are approaching, I am growing deeper in friendships, My sisters and I have been training to run a 5K, and I miss reading. I'll still be writing of course, but just not here. I'm reading Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird" right now and it is inspiring me to try my hand at writing fiction. I don't know. We'll see. Blogging has been good. I proved to myself that I can stick with something and that I can and need to write. But, I think that I need to lean in and focus on some other areas in my life right now. I'm sure that I will be back here eventually. Today though I am signing out and I'm not sure for how long. At least until the beginning of the year I think.

I'm sad, but I think that this is the right thing to do. I have been feeling much guilt over not writing here as often as I should, and I never want my writing to be fueled by guilt. I'm looking forward to coming back. I am sure that I am going to miss it here.

Is this the 4th or 5th time that I have recommitted to writing? Oh, bother....

Writing keeps getting put on the back burner and I don't like it. I used to wake up before 6 every morning and spend over an hour reading, writing, and praying. It was such a peaceful and solid way to begin each day. Still life keeps getting fuller and fuller and I need that extra sleep. But, I'm going to try to set my alarm a little earlier for tomorrow and see if I can't try again. Because I miss it. I miss sharing and thinking. My head is ever in a tizzy lately because the thousands of thoughts buzzing about my mind have been left there to buzz and swarm and make less and less sense. When what they need is to be released and set firmly on paper...or computer.

I was running the other night by myself. The air was almost crisp, and I actually saw stars twinkling in the heavens above, and then I realized that I was praying. And, that made me happy because I love when my soul reaches out beyond it's human cage and communes with it's Creator. I try to remember to pray but it so often feels forced and quoted, but sometimes it spills out of me from my gut like second nature. It's my heart groaning for a closeness with it's King or it's a tenderness granted by the Holy Spirit for a particular person or issue. I found myself praying for a sweet friend of mine, Marie. I love her. Everyone needs a Marie in their life. And, I hope that God answered my prayer and met her that night. I hope that she felt especially loved and cherished by a God who delights in her and all of his creation.

Oh! I have an exciting post coming soon. I am going to share my list of favorite children's books. Maybe that's not exciting for you, but I'm looking forward to it. Children's stories are my favorite and I am not embarrassed to admit it. Hopefully I will finish that post up in the next few days.

It is late now, and I should go to bed if I am to get up and right early in the morning. Sleep tight.

"Fort Knox" or "I Fake Laugh So Often at Your Lame Jokes That I Have Forgotten What My Real Laugh Sounds Like."

We keep our front door locked at my office. I have to speak to any guests over the intercom before I buzz them in. As a certain gentleman came through the doors this afternoon, he exclaimed, "Man! It's like Fort Knox in here!" and then he looked at me with anticipation, waiting for me to clutch my stomach and guffaw at his hilarious joke. I obliged and threw my head back and with joy and amusement at our comedic guest. But, inside I raged with frusteration and anger because: That joke is not funny. It is in fact, quite lame. Perhaps it made me smirk the first, second, and third time I heard it. But, I have been with this company for over two years now and I hear that joke by at 80%of those who enter. Of course, these people are unaware of that, and I am sure that they are just trying to brighten the lonely receptionist's day with an original "ha-ha!". But people! Not to sound dramatic, but I would rather be stabbed in the eye with a fork than hear your stupid joke. But, I could never respond thusly for it would be quite impolite. These people do not know that they are repeating the same sentence of thousands before them. I want to scream everytime I hear it, but I can't because I am not angry at them in particular. I am angry at the accumulation of well-meaning, unfunny people's lame sense of humor. And, what can I do with that frustration except to suck it up and laugh until my sides hurt for their sake. But, know that it pains me to do so.

God isn't a Sneak

If you tell everyone your wish then it won't come true.

We've all heard someone say that at a birthday party after the candles have been blown out. And, while I don't really believe such nonsense as wishes and jinxing your wish by revealing it...I kind of sort of do. When I have a dream or a goal or a hope I hesitate to tell anyone, because deep down I wonder if my wish will fizzle and die like the candle atop a cake.

I wrote about it here:

"Part of me is afraid to tell anyone my dream because it will jinx it. But, I don't really believe that (I'm not super stitious but I am a little stitious.--Name that show!!!) and I don't think that God is tricky like that. Whether or not I share my extravagant dream has nothing to do with whether it will come true."

But, in that same post I did talk about some of my hopes and aspirations as a writer. I dreamed and wished and imagined:

"But, until then, I wish that I could give something that I have written to one of my beloved writers. I wish I could give it to Kate Conner or Glennon Melton or Heather Kopp. I wish that they could read it and give some insight: Encouragement, criticism.....anything. I just want to know if I have any potential and any shot at this dream coming true. I need a boost of confidence. I want someone that's been where I am now to tell me how to write from the heart and be brave. "

I had forgotten that I actually published this post, but stumbled again on it the other day. I wrote it two months ago, and today I want to tell you that God isn't a sneak. Opening up and talking about you desires will not automatically kill your dreams. God delights in you (and me). He loves you (and me). My future is already decided and has always been decided and sharing my dream isn't going to change what God has already ordained. God used this post to prove that to me, because as you know, a month later I was published. "I just want to know if I have any potential and any shot at this dream coming true. I need a boost of confidence." Having even a short story published was a huge boost of confidence to me.

And, then a couple weeks later, would you believe it??? But, one of the very authors I listed in that post actually visited my blog (after I sent her a link to it of course) and wrote an encouraging note to me. When I saw the comment on my blog, I texted my friend something to the effect of:  "Heather freaking Kopp just commented on my blog! Fkltrrekrhwytlytgjkrgfgt!!!!!!"

This meant so much to me because I admire this woman. If you haven't heard of her then please visit her blog and read her book Sober Mercies (Isn't that just a beautiful title?)---Life changing. Hers is an amazing story of grace and God and redemption and all of that beautiful stuff that comes from the Gospel. I have had a draft for three months now that I revisit every few days trying to put what Heather's book has done or me into words. It's proven to be a hard thing to do. But, let me just share one thing that Sober Mercies has helped me overcome.
I don't hate my Dad anymore. I kind of hate admitting that I ever did hate my Dad, but there you have it. I did and for a long, long time, and I was in complete denial of it. But, while I was reading Heather's and her Dad's and her Stepdad's stories I suddenly was struck by the absence of hate in my heart....this sense of lightness. It was just gone. And, then I realized of course how real and heavy and silently it had sat and poisoned me for years. And, that made me think and ponder and wrestle and sort through a whole lot of junk. But, it was good and I'm better having read her book.
Besides admiring her for the amazing woman she is, I also hope and pray that I can write like her one day. With honesty and love and Christ-centeredness and beautiful, poetic wordiness. I am in awe of how well she takes confusing convoluted issues that totally baffle me. Things that I struggle to make sense of in my head and can't even begin to put into words and she just writes it so articulately and concisely and I say, "Yes! That! Grrrr. Why didn't I say it first?"

----------------------------------------------------

And that is what I wanted to share today: God is good and loves me and showed me that by making my dream come true. He cares about me. Even about the little--in the grand scheme of life--things. I just feel so very loved and noticed today.

  And, also please go visit heatherkopp.com and order her book.

The $600 I don't miss.

"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

I'm sure I have heard this portion of scripture a hundred times before, but I read it in an all together new way about two months ago. It has been on my mind these past weeks and little did I know that God brought me to this passage for purpose.

A few weeks back I left my laptop on a plane. This did not occur to me until I was 2 hours away from the airport and the plane was already on it's way to Honolulu. It was a sudden and gut wrenching realization. I had stupidly left my practically new, $400 laptop underneath my seat for goodness sake! I gasped and exclaimed what I had done to everyone in the car, and began to bemoan my plight and my idiocy. But, then I stopped short and realized that I was only acting  upset because I expected myself to feel upset. But, really, I was okay. I was more than okay. I was completely at peace. My first thought was how thankful I was to have Matthew 6:21 committed to memory. And, how thankful I was that in God's faithfulness my treasure and my heart were not bound up in something so momentary as a laptop. And, my second thought was that it really is just that....momentary, fleeting, not lasting.

If my heart is placed in a treasure with an expiration date then what will become of my heart?

I remember my old pastor's wife saying, "It's all gonna burn" quite often. It is all gonna burn eventually, or rather, it's gonna burn or get spilled on or get dropped or go on a vacation to Hawaii without you.

I've never wanted for anything, but for some reason I am a worrier. I worry about money, about job security, about my family being provided for. I check my bank account and credit card balance constantly and my desk at work is littered with post it notes of budgets and figures and trying to make my money stretch. God has always, always, always provided, yet I am still fearful. This doesn't sit well with me. This is why the verse at the top of this post has burned in my spirit for many weeks now. I want my treasure to be in something lasting, I want my heart to be found in something forever.

And, of course, this is the same chapter that has those beautiful verses on worry. He tells me not to be fearful of what tomorrow brings. He tells me to look at how he cares for the birds and the flowers...."Are you not much more valuable than they?"

It's taken years for these truths to sink in and take root in my soul. But, as I drove through Minnesota prairie I realized with overflowing joy that maybe I finally get it. And, so I was glad that I had left my laptop underneath 31C. I was glad and thankful that I had proof that my treasure lay in something deeper than an electronic gadget.

There were a couple moments throughout the following week where I did begin to feel stress and anxiety over how I was supposed to pay for a new laptop. But, it was fleeting and peace ultimately won.

I suppose I should mention that I did at one point throw my phone across the room after spending an hour being transferred to India and hung up on and put on hold multiple times to ultimately an obnoxious woman who told me off and made me half-cry. But, that wasn't because of my laptop. It was because I can't handle when people are rude to me. I will not have it!

And, then I came home a week later and found a ticket for $158 sitting on my table. I had run a red light. Do the math. That's a lot of money to lose in under ten days. And, I almost lost my peace. I began to worry again. I scribbled dollar amounts and figures on my notepad at work. I checked my credit card account multiple times in one day.

But, then my flighty and worrisome heart found it's footing again in those simple words.

"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

 I mustn't forget these words. I must keep them close and remember them always.

God is good and I sent the check in for $158 and I drove to Stuart and bought a laptop for an amazing price. And, I told people the story and laughed about it. So, really, I don't miss the $600 I lost. What I learned from this experience is worth far more than that.

 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin DO NOT destroy, and where thieves DO NOT break in and steal."

A Long Expected Party

Welcome, Autumn! Today is also Bilbo & Frodo Baggins birthday. In case you hadn't caught on yet, my family is bookish and nerdy therefore we celebrate fictional characters birthdays. We spent this afternoon preparing a most delicious hobbit & autumnal feast and will finish our day with tea and scones while watching the movie "The Hobbit". Hope you are having a splendid weekend as well!

 

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

--Tolkien

Hear Myyyyyy Confession!!!! (To be read in Josh Groban's sultry, dramatic voice)

This is an actual photo of me when I saw how many views I had on my blog last week. Not really. Just kidding. But, when I aw this picture, I said, "There, there. It's alright. I know how you feel." and I stroked my Pinterest feed.

Hi friends, I drove to Stuart this weekend to pick my beautiful, new laptop. While there, I ate gelato and wandered down streets and made funny jokes about shovels. You had to be there. Amanda thinks I'm funny.
So, Laptop. Perhaps that means I will be posting more.

Here is a confession: I submitted a story a month ago to Prodigal Magazine. I did not expect to hear back from them what with it being my first attempt at getting published and all. So I was shocked when I got a letter from Allison Vesterfelt saying that they would like to post my story on their website. I was shocked and cried. A lot. I am a baby and all of my emotions are expressed through tears.  I didn't know how to process all of this and I discovered that I had not prepared myself to have my story out there for all to see. It's so personal and so very "mine" and I gave it away to them.

 Who do they think they are publishing the story I sent to them?!? Surely they knew that I can't handle any form of attention and would most definitely have the meltdown of ALL meltdowns?!? They should have read my story and patted me on the head and said, "You are not quite ready, dear. Try again later." But, then my ego would have been sorely bruised and I would have sworn off of writing for forever.

The day after it was published, I signed into blogger and found that over 70 people had followed the link from my story on Prodigal and had visited ***cue dramatic music*** DA-DA- DAAAAA....my blog. GASP! 70 people. I do realize that 70 is not a big number and really what did I expect? I tried to get published, I got published, and then I was shocked out of my mind because people actually dared to read what I wrote! So, naturally I shut down and used my vacationing laptop as an excuse for disappearing from the blogging world.

 It was all just so much to take in. Aside from the crying (which I was able to get under control by the second day) I kept most of this tempestuous hurricane of thoughts, doubts, and fears inside. I inward-spaz out frequently. But, I'm good at keeping it to myself and talking myself down and finding that calm place where I can regroup. And, so I gave myself a few weeks to recover and I think I am ready to emerge and write again....now that my prolonged silence on Linden Tree has most likely driven away what few readers I may have gained from my story.

So, there it is. I'm human and although I crave vulnerability and open honesty, still I am scared stiff. And, so sometimes when life is too much and I'm having a hard time figuring it all out I say, "That's it! Time out!" and then I do my own thing and clear my head and come back to it with a better perspective. I have a better perspective now. So, I'm showing up. Hi.

Also, this is a picture of me right now:

There are days when it's all you can muster to change into polka-dotted flannels and you favourite plaid shirt and watch episode after episode of Sherlock while blowing your nose and crocheting a scarf you will never wear because it's always so freaking hot in Florida. Today is such a day. I have punctuated my Sherlock marathon with watching youtube clips of dumb people falling down. Don't judge. I'm sick.

And, another thing. Since we are on the topic of confession I think I should admit to something terrible that I am deeply ashamed of. I swore I would never be that single girl who has a "Happily Ever After" or "Someday..." or "My Future Wedding <3" Pinterest board. I have held true to my convictions (or self-righteousness. You choose.) and do NOT post wedding dresses and cute favor ideas and mason-jar-chalkboard-paint-twinkly-light romantical pretties ever under any circumstance....except that I do. I have a private Pinterest board where I secretly and sneakily pin things that I would be too embarrassed for anyone to actually see. And, sometimes, I even pin wedding things.  I'm telling you this because I need to share some very important and exciting news!



I have found my wedding dress! Wheeew! Glad I have that figured out!





Here it is. Isn't it loverly and delicate and feminine in every way? I will probably hate it by tomorrow because I am fickle when it comes to fashion. But today I love it so much that it hurts.

Alright. I think that is all for now.

24

I had a lovely piece written for today, but then it dawned on me this morning that it was saved to my laptop which is currently taking a vacation in Hawaii. I wish I were in Hawaii with it. Whatever. Today is my older sisters birthday.

There is nothing quite so special as having a sister near your age. We were inseparable when little and almost all of my memories are shared with her.

She was companion in play. She was by my side in every imaginary adventure I have ever been on.

She introduced me to mystery novels. She read aloud to me my first ever Boxcar Children, Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes, and Agatha Christie mysteries.

She made everything a game. At lunch time we weren't really eating buttered toast with baked beans...we were Oliver Twist in the workhouse. At bed time we weren't just brushing our teeth...we were standing in front of the mirror pretending that we were in an infomercial for "Bright & Shiny" tooth whitening. Yes. We played peculiar games as children.

She and I were such talented song writers at such a young age. Together we bounced up and down on our bed and jammed to the hit song, "Tennessee: a Different Country". Together we wrote the music and the lyrics to the poetic ballad, "Lily of the Field".

She let me sneak into her bed at night when I was four since I was too scared to sleep myself. She would cover me with her ten thousand stuffed animals so Mom wouldn't find out.


She has been my best friend for 21 years. Happy 24th Birthday, Natalie. :)

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow.

Well, I'm back. My laptop, however, is not. So, my blogging shall be sparse until I cough up the $400 for a new laptop. Oh, well. I had an amazingly wonderful time as you can see from the pictures. I faced some of my fears and tried some new and fun things and now I feel on top of the world. As always I had a inner war going on throughout the trip. This happens every trip I take to Minnesota. I am always struggling and working through something in my heart in the midst of all of the fun. And, so I feel on top of the world and I also feel burned out and emotionally weary. I'll write more later when I can, but I did want to check in for a minute to say "Hi".  Here are a few pictures from the week.

I played paintball for the first time. Scary. New. But I did it and I kicked booty.

This makes me happy. Friends for fourteen years. She is one of the best people I know.

Redwood Falls. I saw a waterfall for the first time. We hiked and climbed rocks and I rolled down a steep hill and had an awful asthma attack. But I did something new and scary (to me) and so I'm trying not to pick on myself for being the weakling that stopped breathing.

Will, Me, Olivia, Maggie, Natalie, and Ben. Love this picture.

Those dimples.

Those eyes.

And, that scrunched up nose are why my heart broke when I said "good bye".

My people.

I will try to post again this week. No promises though. I try and steal Nat's laptop occasionally but it's hard to write a post in those few moments. Ta!

She Was Jesus to me. Sitting on a Picnic Bench.

I am so excited and so honored to be published at Prodigal Magazine. You can read my story here.

I won't be posting on Linden Tree as much as I had hoped to while on vacation. I left my laptop on the plane and it is happily on it's way to Honolulu. Hopefully an honest person will find it and turn it in, but until then I am stuck borrowing a few minutes here and there on other people's computers. I'm trying so hard to have a positive attitude about this and not let it put a damper on my trip to Minnesota. Ta!

Eavesdropping

After a long talk with my friend, Amanda on body image and all that surrounds that topic I decided to write my thoughts on it. I'm not really sure where these posts are headed. I'm just kind of going for it and writing down stories from my life that have impacted me among other thoughts. I guess I'm really just trying to sort it all out for my own sake. So here it goes.....

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Do you remember the first time that you felt self-conscious of yourself? That you weren't measuring up to societies standards of beauty? Was it a commercial or magazine ad or something someone said to you?

I was always a sneaky kid. I used to crawl from my bedroom to underneath the couch where I would watch the movies that my parents had rented. I saw Black Hawk Down and Schindler's List at a ridiculously young age.....Shame on me!

I also would sneak from my room to the bathroom where I could listen in on my parent's conversations through our thin walls. And it was on such an occasion that I heard my Dad call my fat.

My Dad used to pull up to the window at the McDonald's drive-thru and say (so as everyone could hear), "See girls, you need to work hard so you don't end up with a job like this." And, then he would make a comment about their weight and how it was holding them back in life. He didn't like some of my Mom's friends because they were slightly overweight. He didn't let my Mom buy butter because it would make us fat. My Dad spent more time in his gym than he did with us. He couldn't stand overweight people. A person’s size measured a person’s worth.

I must have been eight or nine when I overheard my Dad that night. A friend from church had given us candy, and Mom had stored it in a bowl in our broken microwave that we used as a cabinet. My Dad was getting on my Mom's case again about the food we eat. He said that it was disgusting how much sweets we had in the house. I heard him shuffling around and pulling the candy out from the microwave and the tasty-cakes out from the snack cabinet probably to throw them away to make his point. And, then he said something that landed on me like a ton of bricks, "You know Lyndsay eats a lot. She's getting pretty chunky."

I gasped and a sob caught in my throat. Because being called chunky by him didn't just mean that I needed to lose a few pounds, it meant that I was dumb and worthless and ugly. It meant that I couldn't hope for anything more than a life at the drive-thru window making minimum wage as people like my father would drive up and use me as an object lesson for their kids on how to fail at life.

I was in such shock that he would say that about me that I ran from my hiding place in the bathroom to the hallway where he could see me. My moppy blonde hair all tossled from sleep, my flannel jammies hanging limply on my frail little body, and tears pouring down my cheeks. And, there he sat in his chair, ironically, with a bowl of ice cream in his lap.

My Mom was horrified that I had heard it and held me as I sobbed in her arms. My Dad wouldn't look me in the eyes. He did apologize to me, but only because my Mom made him. And, really it was only an apology for being caught. It was an apology that I was so sensitive and emotional. He never took blame for anything he did. If and when he did apologize it was only to highlight how weak I was. He would tell me that I needed to toughen up and not get so hurt when he treated me like that. In the end, the blame fell to my shoulders. And, so he said "sorry" that night but he didn't reassure me or tell me that he was wrong and that I was beautiful and healthy the way that I was. And, I went to bed that night feeling fat and ugly and worthless.

I hate that this feeling still lingers over ten years later. I wish that I wasn't affected by it, but I was and am. The next morning I lingered in front of the mirror. Before then I was just a little girl who would brush her teeth and hair as quickly as she could in the morning so she could off and play with sisters in the back yard. But, on this morning I stood and stared at myself and turned and stared some more. And all I saw where imperfections and flaws.

Here is a picture of me taken around the time that this
 story happened. As you can see, I was anything but fat.
 Looking back, I don't even understand how
 he could have said or thought that about me.

Life is Busy

Hi guys! I have a couple posts ready, but won't be able to publish them until the weekend. I'm staying with a friend who had surgery. She is a single mom with two boys. I'll be playing "mommy" while she recovers and so I won't have much time on the internet. So, I'll see you back here in a few days! Also, I will be out of town from next Wednesday to the following Wednesday. I'm going to Minnesota again!!! Ahhhh! So excited. Can't wait to read to the littles, pinch chubby baby cheeks, play board games, drink copious dregs of tea, and stay up chatting and laughing and acting dumb until 3 in the morning. :) I will most likely post pictures here, but probably won't have time to write.

I am not a classy granola lady in pearls.

As I was pouring myself a cup of coffee last Friday morning I heard one of my coworkers say in her lovely jamaican accent, "Lyndsay! You look so hippie. And, like a classy sort of June Cleaver." Yes! I finally am the 1950's, chic, granola lady fashionista I have always strived to be. I turned around to say "Thank you" only to find her hands outstretched about two feet apart from eachother. Oh! You mean that kind of "hippie". Not "hippie", but "hippy". I am fully aware of my "hippy-ness". Thanks for the very visual reminder. I don't know why she pointed out my childbearing hips, but for my own sake I'm going to pretend that she meant it as a compliment.

-----------

Someday I (Lord willing) will be a Mom. That excites me and terrifies me at the same time. I want daughters very much, but the thought of raising young women in today's world scares the what-what out of me. I've been thinking about this over the past few weeks. And yesterday it occured to me that it is near impossible to expect to raise confident, modest, girls with a healthy and sure body image when I am none of those things myself. I'm the girl who cringed and felt naked and exposed when I wore bermuda shorts for the first time last year. How can I hope to have strong and confidently beautiful daughters when I am incapable of modeling that to them? I think that I need to do an overhaul on myself. And, so I will be blogging on the subject of body image over the next few weeks as I try to sort through the things that were instilled in me through out my life whether it be by society, the world, the church, family, or the unspoken assumptions I made.

-----------

When my coworker told me how "hippy" I looked, I smiled to her face and then quickly rushed to the bathroom where I stood on my tippy toes and twisted around so I could get a good look at my waist from every angle. And, I thought about what she said for the rest of the day. I couldn't wait to get home from work so I could change out of that embarassing pair of slacks into something that hid my figure a little better. I think it was as I was craning my neck to see my backside when I realized just how ridiculous this was and how badly I need to readjust my perspective.

Pinterest Friday (Oh, Puh-lease!)

Hi friends! One of my greatest pet peeves is something that I am bombarded with daily on Pinterest: Food Art.

                                                           

 

I admit that it takes a great deal of talent to carve the face of an Indian man into the rind of a watermelon or to make a horrifyingly realistic man face veggie tray, but I ask you...."What is the point?" I don't want my food staring at me. Do you? It is for this very reason that I go to the supermarket and buy already de-boned, cut up, disguised chicken that in no way resembles it's truest of farm animal forms. That is why I don't gather eggs under the rumpus of mother hens for my morning breakfast. No. I purchase them in a nice carton of twelve and go about my day. So, why I ask would you take a perfectly good piece of fruit and make it into something creepy? It's fruit. It is of the purest origin. Nothing about fruit is gross, and yet you make it gross by forming it into Chief Bear Moon River and Ken Barbie Doll's face.

I am not against all food art. For instance.....no, wait. That's right. I do hate all food art. There is no exception.

 

I don't understand the logic behind my disapproval of food art save that it is totally unnatural. Some forms are worse than others. If it doesn't make me dry heave then it has been left out of today's post. If it does make me dry heave, then it has been included so you can join me in utter revulsion:

You guys do realize that you are serving a baby for everyone to eat, right? You literally are carving a melon into a baby shape and then eating it. At a shower. That's sick.

 I don't even know what to say about this. Firstly, it only has two legs. Secondly, it's a pile of rice with raisins. That is not real food. Thirdly, Why can't you just eat a bowl full of rice with raisins on the side? Why must it look like a lumpy, lanky, lamb?

 Awwww. It's a rice ball Pikachu with a pink cheese flowers, fruit rollup cheeks, spam balls, and kale salad for added nutrition. Yummy!

 

 Enough with the rice, people! It's blue and there's an egg yolk and algae and mushroom geese! Ugghh!

 Leather omelets are the new "Snuggie".

I realize that this may not necessarily qualify as "food art", but I think it deserves mentioning here. I am all for disguising vegetables into fun foods to get your kids to eat healthier. But, why would you go through so much trouble to feed them the ultimate nutritonless meal? It's boiled processed pig and other misc. meats with noodle worms. That is vile.


And, this of course was my favorite:

The meat caste served on a Rubbermaid bin lid. As someone who is ever teetering on the edge of vegetarianism, I can say that this may be the most convincing case to spare the lives of animals and stick with tofu that I ever did see. Somebody spent a lot of time building that meat castle, and I doubt that it was in a refrigerated room or that it could fit into a refrigerator. I'll betcha that the cheese is sweating and the flies are buzzing around the turrets right about now.

My Imaginary Dinner Party

Let's play a game! I'm planning an imaginary dinner party where I get to invite all of the woman that I look up to and admire. There are no rules since this game is completely in my head and so that means that any and all are welcome...they can be real or fictional or even dead. No. Rules.


1.) Florence Nightingale. She was my hero as a little girl. I loved that she cared more about her convictions and the strong desire placed on her heart over conforming to what society, class, and family expected of her. She was a brave, gentle servant.

2.) Julia Child (of course). She is precious and hilarious. She taught me to be fearless in the kitchen and trust my instincts. She taught me that less is more and to cook with my heart.

3.) Glennon Doyle Melton. She taught me that I don't have to agree with someone to love them. That we are all different and unique, but equally important. She taught me about being brave and kind and gentle. She is the reason that I write.

4.) Kate Conner. I want to be her. I could go on and on about how much I love her, but that would take forever and might be a little weird. The thing that I love most about her is that she knows that she matters. She is beautiful model of what Biblical feminism and femininity looks like.

5.) Heather Kopp. I. Can't. Even.... She's just so wonderful. Because she is messed up and broken and loves Jesus so so much. I hope that can write as beautifully as she does someday.

6.) Ellen DeGeneres. She is just so awesome and funny and kind. I have to meet her.

7.) Lily Potter. I need to thank her for teaching me so much about love.

8.) Lucy Pevensie. I want her to tell me just what Aslan is like.

9.) And lastly, Charlotte & Fern. They taught me about friendship and loyalty and living a simple life fully.


No, that's a cozy little party! We'll all laugh and talk and share and it will be wonderful.

How about you? Who would you invite?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I feel bad that I haven't been paying much attention to my blog of late. It's summertime and it seems that a lot of bloggers have been taking breaks from the internet. It's quiet out here in cyberspace and I think it gave me permission to take a little break for a while myself. I've been writing just as much as ever, but not here. My posts on the Linden Tree have been rather sporadic, but hopefully I will be able to tidy up the many half posts I have saved to my drafts and publish them soon.

Sunshine!

The sun finally came out after weeks of rain and moody skies. I went to the waterpark with these peeps. There is no way that I would have rather spent my day. I'm absolutely in love with them.

Humility & Confidence

 

............................................................................................................................................

 

"Lyndz, when you get back from break please come see me in my office."

That simple sentence threw me into a panic. When it comes to work, I always think "worst case scenario". I blow everything out of proportion because I must succeed at my job. If I don't rock it in every area then I am a failure.
Plain and simple.
A simple correction is heard as "You better be careful. You are walking on thin ice.".
And, so the request to go to my boss's office sent me to the bathroom stall in a full blown panic attack asking myself the most ridiculous and unwarranted questions.

Oh, my gosh! I'm getting fired. What am I going to do? This is so humiliating. What did I do wrong? I work so hard. How could this happen?

 I watched a Ted Talk recently about body language. Apparently adjusting your posture has the ability to raise your self-confidence. I needed more confidence and so I raised my eyes and lifted my arms as she had suggested. As I cleared my mind and tried to regain control of my breathing I was struck at how oddly similar this pose of confidence is to one of humble surrender. How many times have I thrown my hands up as I have prayed, giving it all to God because I have come to the end of myself?

Outstretched and open arms are a sign of both letting go and of receiving.

 Maybe our confidence is built when we raise our hands because as we do so we are simultaneously saying that we can't do it all and that we need help.

Maybe our confidence is grown because we are finally admitting to ourselves that we aren't perfect, but that we are enough.

Maybe humility and surrender go hand in hand with confidence because although we fail and falter on our own... when we give it to God and trust him, we can have full and assured confidence that he will be our strength and our refuge.

But, aren't humility and confidence at odds with one another? How does one reconcile these two things? Tim Keller's words came to mind:

"The Christian gospel is that I am so flawed that Jesus had to die for me, yet I am so loved and valued that Jesus was glad to die for me. This leads to deep humility & deep confidence at the same time."

Of course, it all must come back to the Gospel.

I am flawed...Jesus died.
I am loved...Jesus died.

It was with these comforting words and thoughts that I was able to dry my eyes and calm my breath and racing heart. I walked into her office with a confident smile knowing that even if I was terminated it would be more than fine. "Fired" doesn't equal "failure" because my identity and my confidence are not found in my job. My job is momentary in the grand scheme of eternity. Rather, my confidence is found in a Saviour who cherishes me. It's an everlasting, never failing, never gives up, always and forever love. That is something to be boldly confident in.

.............................................................................

No, I was not fired. I got a raise. Lesson number two: Get over yourself, Lyndsay.

If I Have Not Love...

Mom and younger sisters have been out of town. Somehow I got the idea that this would mean hours of rest and relaxation with my older sister in a quiet house. What it actually means is staying up until midnight every night to wash and scrub and cook and clean because you no longer have your little minions...I mean sisters to help you. I have been quoting "Cinderella" in my head all week.

  "And don't forget the garden. Then scrub the terrace, sweep the halls and the stairs, clean the chimneys. And of course there's the mending, and the sewing, and the laundry... "

  I had a funny Pinterest post for today, but alas! My computer is wackadoodle and the post has vanished. Oh well. I'll hopefully be able to re-compose it for next week.

  ------------------------

 

A friend wrote her own version of 1 Corinthians 13 and posted it on Facebook encouraging others to do the same and fill in the blanks with their own personal struggles.


"If I have a perfectly organized schedule and always arrive on time, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I am the most practical and grounded, and always make the "smart" and "right" choices, and if I have all my crap together so that people think I am so "with it", but have not love, I am nothing. If I do, do, do until I crash and burn, and if I wake up early and stay up late to accomplish everything, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. As for calendars and routines, they will pass away; as for facades, they will cease; as for competing, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love."


I needed to write this today. I needed to read this chapter again and again. I have a big problem with ego. I have many insecurities about myself and so I hold on for dear life to the things that I am good at. I worship my qualities and hoard them and fuel them and present them as the pinnacle of worth and value. I am organized. Therefore, ye all must be at the same level of "orderly" that I am at. I can balance a thousand different things at once and get them all done AND on time. Therefore, ye all must be able to accomplish everything you set out to do in a timely manner. If you don't then I say "tisk tisk" with a disapproving look. And by "you", I mean my older sister.
We are such opposites and tend to butt heads every time some task needs to be done. We spent the week alone in a house together and many things needed to be done. I had a plan, and that plan was not upheld as law and that pissed me off.
I had a difficult time being patient and kind when she kept ignoring my suggestions. I boasted under my breath of all the ways that my plan was better than her plan (did she even have a plan?). I was arrogant and rude as I huffed and puffed and did everything on my own just to prove a point. I insisted on my own way and when it things didn't go according to my plan I was irritated and resentful.
Since I worship order, the fact that she leaves dirty dishes in the sink and can't complete a chore without checking her Facebook at least five times just drives me to the brink of insanity.
I am right. Period.
I have to be right. Period.
My way is best. Period.
I'm in a sticky place right now. Ego is getting in the way of love. My personal preferences trump love. Proving my "rightness" is far more important to me than loving her. It's not good. We need to find a meeting place where we can both be our Type-A-Git-Er-Done and Super-Relaxed-Chill selves, but be able set aside our preferences for the sake of loving each other. I need to not want to stab her in the eyeball with the dirty fork I found in the sink and she needs to understand that "order" means "calm" and "peace" to me. A loving compromise.
I see that. I get that. I know that is what needs to be done. Reading this chapter and filling it in with my struggles made me realize how deficient I am in love, and how important love is. It reminded me that I can be the best at everything that matters to me but that it is all worthless and ugly if not done in the name of love.

Pinterest Friday (Magic)

I was sitting in class at church the other morning when I had an obvious epiphany totally unrelated to the topic being taught. I do this quite often...don't tell my pastor. I just have a very active imagination and can easily distract myself.

I started daydreaming about fawns and fairies and dwarves and centaurs. I've always been very miffed that our world is so lacking in magical and fantastical creatures. But, then it struck me: I wonder if the people in other worlds marvel at these equisite creatures or just walk by them without a second glance because they have become so ordinary to them. I wonder if griffons and mermaids and unicorns are normal to them just like birds and horses and fish are normal to us. And, then I got miffed that these other people are surrounded by such beauty and give it no notice. But, aren't I just as guilty? Perhaps I am surrounded by just as much magic as they are, but they have become ordinary to me and forgotten. These other worldly people could be just as upset with me for not stopping and admiring the squirrels and dragonflies and frogs. I think that "magic" is just what is unatural and out of ordinary for us. But what is ordinary for us is extraordinay for someone else, so maybe we really are surrounded by magic and have just forgotten it. Maybe we need to wake up and notice and watch with glittering eyes. Maybe if we believe in magic we will find it in the most unlikely places: right before our very eyes.

























A happy Friday to you all!

"Then Mrs. Tiggy-winkle made tea—a cup for herself and a cup for Lucie. They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another. Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's hand, holding the tea-cup, was very very brown, and very very wrinkly with the soap-suds; and all through her gown and her cap, there were hair-pins sticking wrong end out..."

--"The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle" by Beatrix Potter

 

 

This is exactly the picture I had in my head as I sipped my tea this evening. It's been a long day. Carley and I went shopping because we were both in desperate need of clothes. I spent a total of ten hours at nine stores today and so you can imagine how utterly exhausted I am. I bought Republic of Tea Peach & Ginger tea to reward myself for surviving this dreadfully long day. And, being the imaginative person that I am, I pretended that I was Lucie and that Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle was the one who served me the tea. That has always been my favorite Beatrix Potter story after all. Of course, Mrs. Tiggy-Winkly didn't just boil water from the tap. She went outside early in the morning to catch the dew dripping from the flowers into her pail. And she steeped the tea with peaches she dried herself, tea leaves from her garden, and freshly grated ginger. She sweetened it with just the right touch of honeysuckle and added enough milk to make it a delicate pink. And then we sat on the bench by the hearth; sipping and talking and pouring ourselves another cup, then sipping and talking some more.

 

And, now you know what is going on my head as I stare of into the never space.

Pinterest Friday (Balance)

Before getting a job I would fill my days with quiet reading, puttering about the house cleaning, spending hours on a single drawing, and I slept an awful lot as well. It was good; perhaps a little too relaxed, but mostly it was good. Somewhere along the way my laid back approach to life slowly became cluttered. Eventually I found myself feeling overwhelmed and exhausted all the time with a hundred things on my to-do list. I hate it, but at the same time I'm having a hard time giving it up. I feel purposeful and accomplished with an overflowing schedule. But, I miss the old me. The one that was still organized and liked her lists and spreadsheets and always arrived five minutes early, but also took deep breaths and would spend some mornings just sitting and listening to music because in that moment the music was all that mattered. Keeping busy has in many ways been a good thing. I live with intention and it certainly keeps me more positive. What I need is to find balance. Which is easier said than done. I've posted about this before. In recent reflection I have come to realize something about myself. I want to see my flaws and then be awesome overnight. I don't want the journey or the process. I just want to get it done and overwith already! I'm sure that a lot of that is ego. I notice an area that needs work, and I want to patch it up before anyone else notices. The idea of a long process of change is not appealing. And, so I try to fix it quietly and quickly and when that fails I throw in the towel. My most recent post on this subject was me throwing in the towel. I had given up for a while on trying to live a quieter, clutter-free, stress-free life. It's a funny thing, and I guess it just shows how God is faithful even when we are faithless, but in recent weeks my need to do everything has lessened. I've slept in a little here and there. I've set up a desk in my room where I can sit and create and breathe and watch the rain fall. I've curled up on the couch and read a book even when there were things unchecked on my list. It started happening when I gave up trying. My life sort of naturally became calm and balanced (Not totally, but it’s a start). The constant anxiety that I feel boiling in my heart had dissipated. It sort of reminded me of the conversation Heather Kopp had with  her husband Dave, “Even in the dark.” Even when I stopped trying, even when I was faithless, even in the dark God remained faithful and continued to work in my heart.
“Finding balance” is such an abstract, nebulous goal really. It’s not like there is a clear cut answer anywhere which is why it’s so difficult to attain, and very easy to lose as well. And, it varies for every individual too. I think that it's sort of like happiness. It's not really an end goal, but a way of life.  And I think that is what makes it so important. It's something you carry with you through out life and something you can easily misplace and forget. And, so you need to fight for it and work for it and hold tight to it. It's the constant, everyday choices that I think are the most important things in life. Having to work for something daily is proof that it is worth fighting for.

If I could sum up living with "balance" or better yet "harmony" as best as I can, I think I would say that it is to live and love and serve as best as you can and with the joy in heart. As soon as you start feeling the joy being crowded out by stress or anxiety or the need to be noticed it's time to stop and re-evaluate things.

This is a rambling sort of post. I suppose what I'm trying to say is this: God doesn't give up on you even when you give up on yourself and that "balance" isn't something to get and then check off your list. It's a daily choice to put aside ego and choose peace.

I'm learning that perfection is something I need to worry less about. I am so caught up in the end results that I forget to notice the process. God is working in me now. Everyday he is making me more like him. And sometimes I'll fall and forget and screw up, but he is faithful and maybe the falling and forgetting and screwing up is just Him reminding me that things go so much better when I depend on him.

And, here is the part where I try to tie this all in with a Pinterest pin to justify my addiction.:

But, really! This post totally sprung from these two pins.

Hope you all have a fantastic weekend!

How Should We Talk To God?

My dad gave me the A.C.T.S. formula one evening during family devotions.

Adoration
Confession
Thanksgiving
Supplication

 I don't know if he intended for me to accept it as law or if it was just a suggestion to guide me through prayer, but I took it as law. All of my prayers followed these organized four steps. I praised, confessed, thanked, and asked.

"Dear God, You are awesome and made everything. Please forgive me for lying to mom today. Thank you for my family and for all things.....what does supplication mean again? Oh, yeah...And, please save everybody. In Jesus name. Amen."

Prayer was my performance to God. I would follow the formula, use as many big and flowery words as possible (because God hears only the eloquent prayers of course), tidy it all up in the end with a nice "In Jesus name", seal the envelope, and offer my finely polished prayer to this stern higher power. 

There were times when I was confused by God, and so I would come timidly before him and question him.

"Why would you let my dad do such horrible things to me? Why did you let Meghan die? Why did my Mom miscarry after I begged you for a little sister for years? What kind of a God lets a Dad abuse his children, Lets a little girl suddenly fall into a coma and die, and lets a baby die? I don't get you, God."

 But, then I would get scared because I'm not supposed to question the creator of everything. Doubting him is the highest offense. And, so I would tidy up my prayer, trying to convince myself and God that I really did trust him fully. There had to be closure. Even if I didn't get the answer I wanted and I was even more confused than before I started praying, I would pretend to be satisfied and to have peace.

"But, I know you are sovereign, God. I know that you work all things for my good. And so I trust you. Thank you for everything. In Jesus name. Amen."

A sigh of relief...I tricked Him. And then I would seal the envelope and offer my somewhat battered but frantically patched up prayer to this harsh higher power.

And there were times when I threw away the formulas and begged with hands clasped together and tears streaming. They were prayers of repetition. I knew what I wanted, and that one thing consumed me. And, so I would repeat the request over and over and over and over again.

"Please make me a Christian. I don't want to go to hell. Please make me a Christian. I don't want to go to hell. Please make me a Christian. I don't want to go to hell."

 ... An incantation. I would repeat it a hundred times and then worry that a hundred wasn't enough. So, I would repeat it a hundred times more. I mostly prayed these prayers under my breath as I laid in bed at night. And, usually I would drift to sleep with the words still on my tongue. And then the prayer would drift up to heaven, un-hemmed, unfinished, desperate, and terribly messy to this fickle wizard. Although my view of God was so sadly wrong, I think that this prayer was the most honest and real. And, maybe the most honoring to him.

In all my years of formulas, tricking, and magic spell prayers I don't remember ever looking in the Bible to see what God had to say. It turns out I had it all wrong (No, duh.) I had a horribly misguided view of the one I was praying to. Stern? Harsh? Fickle? He is a thousand things, but none of those. 
I wish that I had recalled the verse that said that "God is Love" 1 John 4:8 or remembered that "The Lord is compassionate and merciful, slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love." Psalm 103:8. If I had a better understanding of God then maybe I would have been able to "come boldly to the throne of grace, that [I] may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." Hebrews 4:16 instead of stumbling towards it with shoulders stooped trying so hard to "get it right" and convince him to do as I had asked.  I was so intent on presenting him with the perfect prayer that I missed out completely on the beauty that I have since discovered in it.

Psalm 139:1 says, "O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me." When I read this I finally gave up on the facade and I realized that trying to "look my best" before God was a complete waste of time. If he knows my heart then he knows that there are doubts and confusions and maybe even some anger stored up in there growing bitter. He sees right through my beautifully worded, well-constructed prayer as the hollow lie that it is. I don't think that God is very pleased when I lie and try to trick him. I think that he would be much happier if I was totally real and honest even if the "real and honest me" is a wreck.

I now have taken a completely different approach to prayer. I sit down, open my mouth, and say everything. My prayers lack eloquence at times, they have no filters, they are a mess. There is no pretty packaging or pretense. It just is. But, they are beautiful to Him and to me because understand better what the purpose of prayer is.

Prayer is acknowledging your dependence on a loving God. Prayer is getting to tell Him in person how awestruck you are by Him. Prayer is throwing yourself down at his feet in open surrender and saying, "I've got nothing. Help." Prayer is looking him in the eyes and saying, "I don't get you. You confuse me. Why would you do this to me?" Prayer is the meeting place where an unreachable and intangible God becomes real and here and now. Prayer is an intimate drawing near. Prayer is you standing naked before an Almighty Creator and knowing with confidence that He loves you not in spite of you brokenness, but because of your brokenness. Because "The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life." 1 Timothy 1:15-17

I know now that God is more honored with my honesty than he ever was with my attempt at perfection.

Now I am not so worried about trying to resolve everything in a single prayer and I don't try to patch up my prayers with "But, don't worry, God. I trust you." If I haven't found the answer, or I don't feel satisfied, I'll end my prayer with, "To be continued..." 

I know now that wondering and questioning isn't the doubt that I have always so fearfully avoided. It's searching the immeasurable, mysterious, bountiful everything that God is.

"As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved, and her voice was not heard. Therefore Eli took her to be a drunken woman. And Eli said to her, “How long will you go on being drunk? Put your wine away from you.”  But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman troubled in spirit. I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for all along I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation.”  Then Eli answered, “Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him.”  And she said, “Let your servant find favor in your eyes.” Then the woman went her way and ate, and her face was no longer sad."

--Samuel 1:12-18

----------------------------------------------------------

There is much that I still don't understand about prayer. Why do we ask of God when He has already decided the outcome? We can't sway him; He's already decided everything. But, I ask anyways since he tells me to and I'm sure that he has a good reason.

......................................................

Hey! I'm so clever and I didn't even realize it. My new "formula" is:

"I Sit down, Open my mouth, and Say everything." and that would make my new acronym "S.O.S". How appropriate?!