You wouldn't lie to me...would you?

I am starting my week unusually refreshed. I was blessed to take off the past week for a "staycation" if you will.

Two of my best friends from college came to Tulsa to visit, relax and do virtually nothing for a week. Pure bliss. We spent hours every day by the pool, built a vacation snack bar on my buffet table complete with birthday cake Oreos and gummy bears, and only watched films that rated at 10 on the chick flick scale.

You might look at how I spent my days off and think I wasted them, when I could have spend them somewhere other than my apartment. After this week though, I recommend placing the "staycation" at the top of your destination list. The perks are limitless. No travel cost, free lodging, and no jet lag. The list goes on. However, ranking above the pool time and El Guapo salsa, the people I got to spend the week with take the cake.

There's just something about those friends God places in your life. The kind of friends that you can be yourself around, let the ugly show, laugh until you cry, and cry after that. My heart nearly bursts with thankfulness every time I think about the amazing women God has placed as friends in my life both near and far. To all of you who sit and listen to my jumbled thoughts and ramblings and wait patiently as I repeat them again the next week, thank you. There is no pricetag to be placed on the honesty and truth that comes from a true friend. I know the advice and words from these special people God has placed in my life are true and honest, nothing less, even when it hurts. Friendship has no hidden agendas and not a hint of deception. I think that's why time spent in the presence of a true friend, in my opinion, is a refresher like no other.

Today, in the 4 year old class I help in at church, the Bible story was about Balam and his talking Donkey. Each week the past month, the story has ended by reminding the kids that we can know the story is true because everything in the Bible is true. The kids laughed at the thought of a talking donkey, but when asked the question, "Do you believe this story is true?" one boy in particular knew the answer.

He quickly shouted out a boisterous, "YES!". One of the other leaders asked him how he knew. Here is what he said: "It is true because God says it is true. He is my very best friend."

He didn't hesitate. He didn't give exceptions. The fact that God said it with his standing as his best friend was enough. He believed it.

This was one of those moments for me where time seemed to stop. If God's word, as our Savior and best friend, was enough for this four year old boy, then why isn't it always enough for me?

Have you ever played the game two truths and a lie? If you haven't, it goes something like this. The person who is "it" tells three statements to the group, two being true, and the other a lie, and the group has to guess which one is the fallacy. I have played it, and I hate it. I don't always do well under pressure and am not a good liar. When put on the spot to come up with three statements, I usually say something entirely too obvious like...1) I work for a nonprofit 2) I have one sister 3) I have a pet tiger.

While I don't love the giving side of this game, I am not too fond of the taking either. My friends, being better at this game than I, usually issue three statements of which I have NO idea which one is a lie. When the secret is revealed, I am usually surprised, and unjustifiably hurt that I was deceived, even though it was a part of the game.

Too often, I treat my relationship with God like He is playing this game. He is always it. He fills my life with his word through prayer, thoughts, and passages of scripture. I believe most of it to be true, but have some sort of general hesitancy when it comes to certain statements. 1) God is love 2) The free gift of God is eternal life 3) God's timing isn't always my timing. The first two, yes. That third one, though.... 1) Jesus rose from the dead 2) God hears all of our prayers 3) All good things come from the Lord. Numbers one and three I am sure about, but number two? What about that prayer I have been praying for weeks?

This kind of thinking has to stop. The scary thing is, most of the time I don't even realize I am engaging in it. I know logically that everything God says is true, but that knowledge gets stuck somewhere on the path from my head to my heart. Even though God proves himself to me over and over again, my actions still too often show that I believe I know best for my life and that I am in control of my future. It took a four year old boy with childlike faith to remind me that when it comes to my relationship with God, the head and heart have to work together on the same premise. Everything God says is true. No "if's", "and's", or "but's".

 If I can find rest and refreshment in time spent with the people dear to my heart, how much more rest, peace, and comfort can I find in my Savior, the best friend I could ever ask for. Everything he has promised me is true and He really does have a plan for my life. I have a book full of his promises at my fingertips daily and the opportunity to be in conversation with him at all times. If I rested in the honesty, purity, and truth of this relationship, there would be no room for worry or stress.

My friends went back home on Friday. It is back to work this week. Deadlines will come up, slots on the calendar will fill up, and things will not always go my way. As history shows, with many of these things, stress levels will rise, and the "staycation high" will fade away. Through the ups and downs, vacation time or not, one thing never changes. The best friend I could ever had is right here, living life right along side me, guiding my every footstep. The talk is always real, true, and available, whether I am here in Tulsa or halfway across the world. His word is honest, and he is waiting for me to come to him to be refreshed.  All of his promises are true.

All truths. No lies.

Let's Celebrate.

Last Thursday, on the way home from work, I stopped at the bookstore. A friend at lunch that day told me a book I had to read, and the bookworm in me couldn't wait 3 days for Amazon shipping. I found the title at the second bookstore I ventured too, that is after making several calls to find a store that actually had it on the shelves.

I made my way home looking at the dark clouds in the rearview and headed up to my sanctuary for the evening. I set my purse down, grabbed a book and a cup of chai, and of course my favorite quilt. As I started to read, a chapter in, I looked up and out the window after hearing a deep rumble from the sky and watched as it began to pour.  There's something about an afternoon downpour that stops me in my tracks. Perhaps it is the fact that I can see the drops and hear them as they hit the ground. I don't know about you, but evening rainstorm send me into a quick coma like sleep.

With my book in my lap, I began to look around my apartment. It was clean for the first time in what seemed like weeks, a candle was lit, and I was sitting still. I couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Sometime between the months of March through early May, my calendar and life seemingly, turned into a timetable with slots instead of a fresh pallete full of moments. Bullet points that left no room for interjections.

I realized I hadn't read a book in two months, and I hadn't baked in maybe three. I couldn't put a pinpoint on the last time I had spent an evening with nothing planned. If you know me very well, I thrive on those moments. You like to spend your evening out with 22 of your closest friends? I like those nights, but if I am honest, I probably would prefer to sit on my couch with a book and a 1990's rom-com rolling in the background on my tiny television.

While I am only a chapter or two into my recent read, I could be completely missing the point, but here is what I have taken from it so far. The author talks in the intro about how we are sitting around waiting for our "moment". You know, that moment in the movies where they get the job, catch the bad guy, win the award, or say their vows. We wait. We watch. We press onward. Somewhere in that waiting game though, we forget to experience. We are waiting for a celebration when that moment arrives. The author suggest that perhaps the celebration is in the current moment, not in THE moment we think we are waiting for. The celebration is now. The celebration is life. Are we missing it?

Once the rain stopped, I went out to my porch. The trees were green, the ground was wet, and the unmistakable scent of an Spring rainstorm was in the air. The clouds were still there, but pockets of blue and sunshine peaked through the clouds. The birds were singing, and the crickets were chirping. It was one of those moments. A moment worth celebrating. Sometimes I forget I don't have to be sitting in the middle of the mountains to notice the beauty in Creation. It's right here in Oklahoma. It's right over the railing of my apartment balcony. A beautiful picture is surrounding us. It's moments like those, where I sit and count the drips of water from the porch railing on my toes, that I wonder how many more of these moments I miss, moments of pure, uninterrupted peace and bliss.

The title of the book I am reading is Cold Tangerines. The author says she wants to live a life where she enjoys cold tangerines among the other little things in life.

Have you ever seen one of those over-sized colorful plates in a gift store that says "Celebrate Everything"? You know, those ones that look like you could make it at "paint & party" but way better than anything you (or at least someone with my limited art skills) could make yourself?  I have seen them more than a dozen times, picked them up, and immediately set them down after being appalled at the astronomical price tag on a 8 inch diameter piece of plaster. As I continue to read this book, the phrase painted on the plate keeps crossing my mind. Perhaps those words should be painted across my heart and become the shades through which I see my world. 

I want to live a life worth celebrating. I don't want to wait around for hypothetical celebrations culture tells us we need to be fulfilled. I want to take deep breaths. I want to travel far away and see things I have never seen. I want to notice the shape of the leaves on the trees outside my window, and I want to sit in a hammock every chance I get.

The truth is, life isn't always relaxing, and I don't always have an open schedule. I have to remind myself that those little moments, moments full of awe and wonder, are just as present in the busy times as in relaxing ones. God is present at all times and so is his faithfulness. With an ever present God in the midst of a chaotic world, we are sure to find beauty, wonder, and moments worth celebrating. We just have to be willing to open our eyes and train ourselves to look for and engage in them.

The gift of the moment is enough reason in itself to celebrate. The more we look deep into those moments we are given, the more we will notice what the Lord has had right in front of us all along. Look around. Live. Breath it in. How can we not celebrate?

If it's just stuff, why do I have so much of it?

A couple of days ago, I went into my apartment with one goal. To clean. Not just make my bed and put away my dishes, but to spring clean. I was ready to take everything out of the cabinets, scrub the baseboards, and go through every item I own.

When I was younger, I guess you could say I was somewhat of a packrat. The child version of a hoarder. The thought of getting rid of any stuffed animal or any tweety-bird t-shirt sent chills through my body and simply was not an option. I remember one time my mom went to the church garage sale to "rescue" one of my stuffed animals that had accidently been placed in the give-away pile after I resorted to sobbing when I noticed it's absence.

Thankfully, as we grow up, many characteristics of our personality and actions develop and change. Through the years, I have become more confident, independent, and relaxed. In addition, my perspective on clutter and cleanliness has taken a 180.

What once gave me chills now creates a kind of a high for me. I love getting rid of things. Post college graduation a couple of years ago, I began to realize the amount of "things" I had accumulated over my four years in school. I filled my free hours in the afternoon with hours of shopping trips with paychecks I received from my numerous odd jobs. I never spent money I didn't have, but I did spend the money I did have on countless items I bought solely on the premise that they were on sale or a good deal. Translation. I purchased large quantities of poorly made items that i didn't need.

I began to notice the immensity of the possessions I collected moving off campus post college graduation. After countless loads taken to my new home, unpacking I began to realize the number of things I had packed up that I hadn't touched in at least two years. I began to purge myself of those extra things and felt surprisingly good afterwords. 

After a few more moves over the following couple of years, I continued to purge myself of excess belongings each time I packed. It then became a bi-monthly activity to clean out my closet. After several "closet purges" over the past few months, I was sure there was nothing I had left to give away.

On Tuesday, I finished the task of cleaning and scrubbing my cabinets and moved on to my closet. I sat down on the floor and looked up at all that was there. There was so much. How did I still have so much stuff?

I set out to clean my closet, and I ended up sitting on the floor sobbing. 

Stories of the devestation in Moore, Shawnee and the surrounding areas have been constant the past few days. Images of piles of rubble that used to be homes, used to be living rooms, and used to be classrooms are on the front page of every newspaper in the country and every headlining story on every television station.

Stories of heroes, reunited families, and the search for loved ones pop up by the minute. Through reading all of these stories, I have noticed a few things. First, the heart of Oklahomans and the sense of love, community, and God's presence in the midst of unbelievable adversity is incredible. No one is a stranger to a helping hand or word of encouragement. We are called to love our neighbors, and I am thankful to live in a state where most aren't shy of that.

The second thing I noticed was this. Each interview, though different in experience had a similarity. Over and over again, I have heard the citizens of Moore say how thankful they are that their loved ones are alive and that is all that matters. Not once have I heard someone get on the news and say they miss their flat screen television or their Nike shoes they had resting in their closet.

Sitting in my closet on the floor, I began to think. What if all of this was gone. Would I be that upset about it? Sure, I would miss things that held sentimental values and pictures that held memories, but how much value was lying the majority of the things surrounding me?

We plaster our walls with sayings like "The most important things in life aren't things." I believe that to be true with my whole heart. If that is so, why do I still have so much stuff?!

We seek to get better jobs for a bigger paycheck so we can buy a bigger house to fill with more things. Why do we do it?

Why do I keep buying more stuff? We want to have the same things as others, keep up with the Jones's, and live in comfort. But why?

My mind keeps tracing back to the story of the rich young ruler where Jesus tells him to leave all of his possessions and come and follow him. He could not bring himself to do it and reluctantly walks away from the Savior unwilling to let go of his earthly possessions.

In my life, my home, my city, my state, and my country, we are blessed with an abundance of things. Look around you. It is undeniable.

Sometimes I wish everything was black and white. I am a logical person and sometimes it is hard to find the middle line between being and extremist and doing nothing at all. Where is the line when it comes to our possessions? At one point does "having" become wrong?

I think it all comes down to our motivations and where we place true value and seek for true joy. I say we are blessed with an abundance of things, but too often we see the thing as the blessing instead of the Giver. It is far too easy to seek fulfillment in an abundance of earthly possessions. It only takes one natural disaster like the one we saw in Oklahoma this week be reminded how quickly those things can be taken away and the things that really matter.

This isn't the first time a natural disaster has happened, and it won't be the last. We are quick to give freely of our possessions and respond in times like these. But what happens after? What happens when the headlines change and our lives go back to "normal". That's the part where it gets sticky. That's the part where we have to be intentional and aware of our actions and the ways we are expending the resources we have been blessed with. That's the part where we need to remember that there are people in need all around us, that we need to be around for the long haul, and that we aren't called to be the hands and feet of Jesus only in crisis situations.

The tears that fell on my closet floor are representative of feeling I have about my possessions sometimes, but not often enough. I pray that those tears become more frequent, and more importantly that they lead to action, a giving heart, and a willingness to let go. 

What about you? What things are you holding on to? What are your suggestions for keeping yourself in check with your possessions?

Life lessons learned in stand-still traffic.

Morning traffic. Whether you live in Helena, Montana (first city that popped into my head. I attribute it to a lingering state and capitals song I learned in fourth grade I can't quite shake), San Diego, or Tulsa Oklahoma, it is an inevitable part of the commute in some way, shape or form. Whether your commute is ten minutes, or forty-five, if you don't account for the unexpected on the road, there is a possibility that traffic flow may place you in an unexpected and often frustrating time crunch.

My commute to work each morning is give or take twenty minutes. That is a choice I made in choosing my place of residence. The benefits of my choice seemed to outweigh the distance of the commute at the time. However, when I am pouring my coffee to rush out the door ten minutes later than I planned, I sometimes question my decision.

A couple of months ago, a friend introduced me to a news service that texted free weather and traffic updates. The service seems to be reliable. It sent me an alert for a tornado warning a few weeks back that I slept through. It was still sent nonetheless. The news stations can't be held accountable for my heavy sleeping patterns. Anyways, until this week, I had never received a traffic alert through this texting system. I assumed they weren't as vigilent in this area as they were in the weather department. I was wrong.

Monday morning, I received a text alert stating there was a wreck causing a large backup on the first highway I take on my commute downtown. I glanced at the message, but assumed it could not be that bad and would clear up by the time I got in my car. Thirty minutes later as I was walking outside to my car, I received another alert stating there was another accident on the second highway I would have to travel on. Being directionally challenged (all of the time) and bit groggy in the morning, I made the decision to take my usual route. There is usually a bit of traffic every morning, especially on Mondays, so surely it would not be much different than that, right?

I quickly realized that I should have taken the side roads, all the traffic lights included, in order to make it to work in half of the time I did. However, there was no turning back. My spedometer read 0 for a good 20 minutes of my commute, and I was elated when I could reach a wopping 5 mph at times. I was in standstill traffic.

There are certain situations that bring out the worst in people, and I strongly believe that traffic is one of those. Impatience, frustration, rashness, an unsolicited raise of a certain finger. Road rage if you will. Take your pick. Though these emotions range in action and intensity, they all have one thing in common. They are rooted out of looking out for number one. Selfishness.

Last week, a friend and I decided to challenge each other with a "doing" statement each week to focus on. Last week's was "do not focus on yourself or esteem yourself better than others." That all sounds great in theory, but when it became a focus, I realized I was failing miserably and that practicing the things you learn is hard and can not be done without effort, accountability or help of the Spirit.

The moment the traffic came to a standstill, my selfish inclinations became evident. I quickly caught myself and let out a big sigh, dissapointed that my human nature had once again taken over. I took a deep breath and began to pray and think. I had about an hour ahead of me in the car, and if I wasn't going to spend it tapping my foot and looking at the clock, I had to occupy my thoughts elsewhere. As I sat there, I began think about and wonder why traffic and other life situations make us feel the way they do.

1. We view others' misfortune as our inconvenience. Most of the time I am sitting in traffic, I am thinking about my schedule, my clock at work, and the best way for me to get to my exit on the highway quickly. It pains to me think how long it takes my mind to reach the point where I am thinking about the wreck causing the backup and the individuals involved in it.
2. People say worry is like a rocking chair. I think impatience is too. No matter how many times we honk our horns or rev or engines, and no matter how many dirty looks or gestures we give to the surrounding vehicles, our situation isn't made any better by our actions. They, in fact, make it worse. We make ourselves miserable with our emotions. Perhaps there is joy to be found even in our cars with our foot on the break in morning traffic. We choose to deny it though.
3. We too often worship time and a schedule. This is one I struggle with. In my book, if you aren't ten minutes early you are late. I love a to do list, especially one with time slots inserted for each item. When something or someone interferes with that schedule, I immediately let my mind enter into panic mode. Here's the thing, though. Life isn't a schedule. It's not a list. The unexpected happens, and we can't control everything (Not having control? What a concept. Maybe I should write that on my mirror), It's what we do with that lack of control and those unscheduled, unaccounted for traffic jams that will define our emotions and the way we choose to live our life.

Eventually I made it to work on Monday. The world didn't end because I was late. My to do list still got done. And making the conscious decision to remove impatience set the tone for my whole day, not just my commute. Tuesday morning I woke up to a text traffic alert. This time I heeded the warning, but still headed for the highway. I got on, pushed on my brakes, and looked ahead. Even though it wasn't planned out, this time on the road was given to me by the Lord.

Lord, teach me to love traffic jams, teach me to see joy wherever I may be, teach me to think of others first, and teach me to embrace each moment you give me, not just the scheduled ones. Let me see you in the unscheduled, chaotic moments I encounter each day. 

A pinch of this and a dash of that. Or was it a dash of this and a pinch of that?

The past three days, though varying vastly in their make-up, have all had one thing, one activity in common. Baking.

I don't know how it happens, but somehow, I find myself in the kitchen comparing the ingredients in my cupboard with the ingredients listed on the pages of my recipe books until I find a match. I hardly ever plan to bake, unless it is for a birthday or special event, but spontaneous baking ventures are a commonality in my home.

On Tuesday, I had an hour or so before small group began, so I tried my hand at oatmeal banana bread. This supposedly healthy recipe (I am still skeptical that anything that good could be healthy) replaced white sugar with oats. Somehow, the bread still turned out and the recipe is definitely going on a card in my kitchen. Wednesday's snack was not quite as adventurous. I grabbed the first thing I saw in my cupboard, boxed brownies, knowing I would only have to add a few ingredients I knew I had in my cupboard. Luckily I came home from my church's youth group with none left.

Thursday, however, was unusually chilly for April. I am convinced Oklahoma is trying to fit in every type of weather and natural disaster into one month. Luckily, I don't think any tsunami's or hurricanes will reach our dear state. Anyways, after a long, busy day at work, I was ready to unwind and de-stress. I made hot tea and curled up on the couch with a blanket. After a little bit, I realized I could not ignore the facts. It was baking weather. There's just something about baking on a blustery day. Ree Drummond, a go to in my home, had the perfect match up for my kitchen yesterday afternoon. Coffee cake.

You are probably wondering why I am sitting here listing all of the calorie intensive foods I have been filling my kitchen with this week (I promise I don't eat it all). I'm getting to the point. I promise.

As I mixed up the ingredients for my coffee cake, a thought crossed my mind that often does when baking. I am a very logical person and often want to know why things are the way they are, leaving me with questions I don't always have the answers to. As I put in teaspoonfuls of baking powder on top of 4 cups of flour, I started to wonder how all of the ingredients are evenly distrubuted so each part of the batter turns out right. What if part of the batter didn't get the right proportion of baking soda? Or salt for that matter? The same thought crosses my mind every time I bake cookies or any other baked good, leaving me stirring together my ingredients for an unecessary length of time.

Regardless of my ponderings about mixing dough and batter, the facts can't be ignored. If I follow the recipe (assuming its a good one) and mix the right ingredients together, the product will be good. The ingredients go to all the right places, and each piece turns out as intended.

I ask the same kind of questions I do about baking in my own spiritual walk. When I spend time reading books, listening to a speaker or mentor, or reading the Word, I often find myself making lists of things I need to work on or change and, in turn, become stressed about making sure I apply all the right points in all of the right places.

While I absolutely think it is important to make applications from the things we learn, I sometimes forget the output that comes alone from filling my life with the right things. I am not alone in making sure the things that go into my mind and heart fit together perfectly. The Holy Spirit is there to guide me and work on me continue to transform my heart in mind into the woman God wants me to be. God is the master baker, and he is there to make sure it all gets mixed together correctly.

We have so many ingredients to choose from. We can choose to fill our lives with possessions, selfish desires, and unhealthy relationships, or we can choose to fill our lives with the "ingredients" the Lord has laid out for us. Our lives will yield what we choose to fill them up with. The resources, people, and experiences placed in our paths by the Lord serve as the recipe to a healthy spiritual walk. We may not even notice at the time some of the small things the the Lord places a pinch of in our lives that make a dramatic difference in the outcome of who we will become.

I am thankful for recipe books and I am thankful for Ree Drummond's coffee cake. But, most of all, I am thankful that God has a recipe for my life and knows how to mix and knead every little piece of it together perfectly.

Manic Monday

A week ago yesterday, I got in my car to drive to work as usual. The weekend had passed, my alarm went off, and sure enough, it was Monday. Funny how that beloved day of the week (I hope you can sense my sarcasm) always comes back around. I hit snooze on my phone a few too many times, and, as a result, I spent my morning rushing around my apartment so I could make it out the door in time.

I got in my car, turned on the radio, and got on the highway toward downtown. Morning commutes
and the traffic therein is baffling. It makes no sense that a group of cars moving in the same direction with the same intent to get to work could move so slowly so consistently. Half of the time I am convinced a major wreck has to be up ahead considering the traffic flow. However, I am always surprised to find that the backup was due to not a wreck, but impatient drivers constantly changing lanes to try to get to their destination more quickly, when really they are only facilitating their own problems.

On this particular Monday, the backup seemed particularly daunting. I braked. I accelerated. We sped up. We slowed down. This pattern, however, threw an unexpected curve into my morning. At the point when traffic seemed to speed up, the woman in front of me slammed on her brakes as a part of a chain reaction to the driver in front of her doing the same thing. I, in turn, slammed on my brakes, but unfortunately was not able to avoid giving the car in front of me a friendly little tap in the rear.

I went into panic mode as we both pulled over to the shoulder. As the woman got out of her car and began to talk to me, I was immediately thankful. I was expecting a beefed up man with road rage akin to those in drivers ed vhs tapes. Instead, I was met by a kind woman in her early 30's. We looked at both of our cars, and thankfully there wasn't any visible damage on either end. We exchanged information and a hug, but she said she most likely wouldn't call (She never did).

Getting back in my car, I was thankful no one was hurt and that no damage was done, but still I was off kilter, shaken, and only one sentence ran through my head. "Today is such a Monday already."

Little did I know what that Monday had in store for me. After staff meeting, I decided to take an early lunch at my desk. Everyone else was out of the office, but I was ready for some time alone. As I sat down at my desk, the tension I felt about my morning was unbearable so I did the only thing I knew to do. I stopped and prayed. I prayed that the Lord would change my perspective on my Monday. I prayed I wouldn't miss any opportunites He placed in front of me to be a blessing to others and that I would take focus off of myself.

Not too long after that, I made a call to a client to schedule a photograph. Right before I hung up, I heard these words from the sweet older man on the line. "Kelly, wait. Listen to me. Don't let anyone take your joy. Don't let anyone or anything that happens today make you mad. Can you promise me that?" I smiled on the other end of the receiver and promised him I wouldn't. My tension started to lessen.

An hour or so later, I was on the phone with a paint company about a donation. At the end of the phone call, I told the man that I hoped he had a great day. Here is what he said. "Every day is a good day. Even when they start off bad, something good always come along. We just have to look for the good in each day we are given."

After I hung up the phone, I whispered a thank you, knowing God had been using the receiving end of routine phone calls at work to answer my lunchtime prayer and change my perspective.

After my phone calls, I went out with a coworker to take some photographs at a client's home. When we got there, however, the woman was standing outside, realized she had locked her keys in her house, and to top it all off, she had just found out that one of her childhood best friends had just passed away. My Monday morning suddenly seemed trivial. We walked with her up and down the street making sure her keys hadn't fallen out of her pocket and ended up talking to her for a bit. Before we left, we exchanged a hug and a smile, and I suddenly knew we were right where we needed to be at the exact moment God intended. I didn't get my photographs. I didn't get to check off an item on my to-do list. None of that mattered though.

As we drove back to the office, I felt a complete change in my demeaner from a few hours earlier. I was no longer tense. I felt peace, thankfulness, and joy. God took my lunchtime prayer, humbled me, and  multiplied His answer to remind me of His presence and my true purpose in my day-to-day life.

I won't bore you with the details of the rest of my day, however, God didn't stop showing up in the hours following.

The thing is, God never stops showing up. I think too often, we just don't take off our blinders to see Him. We set our site on our problems and our priorites, and don't even look for the countless places God is showing up all around us. All I did was ask to see, and He more than opened my eyes. I don't want to go through life with Monday blinders over my eyes. Perhaps a lunchtime prayer is in order every day, every morning, before I begin my day.

Lord, show me You today and show me how to share your love in my day. Remove my blinders and my agenda. Give me your eyes and your perfect will. 

Mondays come every week. This week's held a horrific tragedy in Boston that weighs heavily on so many hearts. As I drove to work today, I heard a quote from Mr. Rogers. He said that when he saw scary things on the news growing up, his dad would tell him to look for the helpers. There are always helpers.

It is hard to see the good in horrific situations, or even in a troubling morning. Whether your "Monday" is on a Thursday moring or a Tuesday evening, remember that there is always good. There is always God. He is always there. He is the light. We just have to open our eyes. Tragedy's ensue, change is inevitable, and our world is unpredictable. Remember not to lock your eyes only on the tragedy. Don't hone in on the Monday.

Be the helper. Look toward The Helper. His love is unchanging. His presence is constant.

The words that changed my life.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in an airport traveling to visit family in Phoenix. As usual, I arrived at the airport two hours early. Even though I know that is entirely unnecessary, I have come to relish the ample time I give myself between arriving at the airport and getting in line at my gate. If you follow my blog or know me in person, you might think I have some sort of airport fetish. If that term can be used in a positive light, I will gladly take ownership of it. Airports, in my opinion, are some of the most mesmerizing, awe inspiring places one could possibly visit. As soon as I make my way through the automatic doors, curiosity overtakes me, I take in a deep breath, and await the conversation I know is awaiting me inside those walls or the confines of my flight.

On this particular day, my timeliness turned out to backfire, or so I thought. After making my way through security, a notice came over the intercom announcing that a flight would be delayed for 2 hours due to mechanical issues on the incoming flight. I checked my boarding pass, and sure enough, it was my flight. A friend had been gracious enough to drop me off at the airport so I wouldn't have to pay to park for a week. In turn, I was now at the airport with 4 hours to spare instead of two. I opted for the sit down restaurant to kill some time. Within my memory, this was the first time I have ever eaten at a sit down restaurant alone, and I can't say I hated it. During that dinner, I finished reading what now I would say is one of the greatest stories and testimonies I have ever read. If Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis isn't on your reading list, I suggest you add it. The author's constant faith for the Lord's provision day to day both floored and inspired me with each page I turned.

After leaving the restaurant, I headed to my terminal. I had successfully knocked out one hour. After sitting for a few minutes, a man came up to me and said, "You're still here?". As a girl alone in an airport, I was a little thrown off and gave the man a reluctant glance. He proceeded to tell me we had gone through security together, and then I realized that he did look familiar and that we had briefly spoken only an hour and half earlier. I'm too young to have short term memory loss, right? I'm starting to wonder.

We got into a conversation and soon realized we were on the same flight to Phoenix. He told me about his family, wife, and kids and I told him about my job and the family I was headed to visit in Arizona. The more I talked to him, the more I began to see his family's story unfold before my eyes, and I was once again reminded of the extraordinary qualities only an airport terminal can hold. As it turned out, his son was a two time leukemia survivor. He fought twice and won the battle. His son's name is Ben. During his battle, Ben was given the opportunity to have a wish granted by the Make a Wish Foundation. I have always been intrigued by this organization, seeing the wishes granted to meet famous athletes and musicians, take once in a life time trips, and most of all by the smiles they bring to a child's face in what may be the darkest times their family will ever face.

Ben's dad assured me that the parents have no sway in the child's wish decision. He assured me that if he had a choice, he would have urged Ben to ask the foundation for a brand new Ferrari. Ben, however, had different plans. He wished to create a video game that would help other kids who, too, were battling cancer. He was given the opportunity to work with a famous video game designer, and they created a game where a kid on a skateboard was on a mission to battle the different symptoms of cancer symbolized in different forms. The game is now in five different languages and is still being used today. Ben was even honored by the Dalai Lama for his wish. What?! (I googled it. It's true.) The man told me this all occurred when his son was 11. He is now 18 and attending school to become a doctor so he can help children who are battling leukemia.

The man told me that he and his wife wanted to have more kids but didn't because of their family's long battle with Ben's leukemia. However, it is never too late to create a new chapter in your story. The man proved that as I continued to listen. Two years ago, he and his wife adopted an 11 year old girl they had been fostering into their family. He told me they had the means to give her a family, so it was a no brainer to make it official since they had already fallen in love with her. He went on to tell me that I would love his wife. He told me that she loves adventure and wakes up every Sunday morning to put the family in the car to drive in any given direction until they find a place they want to stop that they have never been.

The man told me he had traveled all over the world and asked if I like to travel. I told him I would love to travel, but didn't have the means to do so at the current time. He then proceeded to give me some advice. He said to figure out a way to make it happen. If I dreamed it up, I should do it. He said, "Live your life. It's an adventure. Don't let it pass you by."

Often I hear statements like the one the man I met in the Tulsa airport terminal spoke. However, his actions and stories backed up his words. The expression on his face and the joy in his voice when talking about his family were sentiments of a life well lived, wisdom through adversity, and a passion for living life to it's fullest no matter what is thrown in the way.

My flight delay turned out to be a blessing in disguise, an opportunity to listen and take in that could have passed me by. Those who don't know me very well may say that I am quiet. I choose to say that I just enjoy listening. Behind each person, each moment, and each place there is a story waiting to be told. A story that needs a listening ear. A story that is waiting to tug at heartstrings and change a life.

How many times do I miss out on an awe inspiring moment the Lord places in front of me just because I don't take the time to stop and listen to the words and the emotion behind them? I don't have a count, but there is one thing I know. I never regret the times I take to stop and listen, and I continue to be floored by the stories the Lord places in my path. Words spoken by others have the power to effect change. Whether it is an "I love you" from a family member, words on the pages of a book,  or a story spoken by a stranger, don't underestimate the timing and the purpose of the words in your path. 

In an airport last month, I was reminded that life is short and that there are no guarantees. I was inspired by the selfless heart of an eleven year old boy I have never met and received encouragement to evaluate the kind of story I want to live, all because I took my headphones out to take in the words of a stranger.

As you are going through your day, week, month, and year, I encourage you to take some time to ask the Lord to show you where He wants you to stop and listen. We are all walking this journey of life together, and I know that is no coincidence. We can all learn not only from our mistakes and triumphs, but also from the stories and the words of others.

There are incredible stories being lived every day. I can only hope I get to hear the words that comprise a handful of them. Looks like I need to make those travel plans and visit a few more terminals soon.