Obedient in the Do.

Not quite knowing where to start, I begin to hit the keys in the motion of writing until the words begin to flow.  Sometimes that’s how all the best things seem to start…a brave foot forward not knowing the end result.  Giving God something to work with, a tiny seed that can grow into something all together different. So I quietly tap each key until the black curves form words and the clustered words form sentences and the sentences garner thought, imagination, ideas, creativity, inspiration, guidance.  But the most important motion is the decision to Do.  Status quo would be maintained without the Do.  Nothing changes without the Do.  The giving up transferred to giving in…a sweet surrender to knowing I’ll be met halfway as long as a bravely Do.  I don’t have all the answers, I certainly don’t know where each step will lead, but I’ll clearly never know if I never Do.  So,  I carve quiet moments out of my day…sitting in the car with the door cracked open, soft breeze on my toes, waiting for Cole to finish baseball practice.  Open the laptop and begin to hit the keys.  Obedient in the Do.       

So I Share...

Safe inside Weigard Casa, when the house is quiet, I write.  The distractions fade and my head finally quiets.  In the end, a new revelation revealed, perhaps only for me. I hit save and file them away for my own comfort.  But what others might benefit from the words that flow in these quiet moments?  Those tucked away, afraid to reach out? Are they drowning in fear?  Do they feel all alone?  Is sadness weighing heavy on their heart?  Has loss robbed their joy?  Are they afraid to speak? Are they unsure whom to trust with their tender heart?  Have friends disappointed?  Is their world caving in?  So I share.

My heart weighs heavy for the women who hide…keeping their gift locked safely inside. Seek that one precious friend that will safely absorb the crazy.  If there’s no one there, let it be me…I’ll gobble up the fear until it’s no more.  What a world this would be if women bravely stepped up and stepped out…not hiding their unique gift from the world. So I share…with grand hopes that my words will fall upon one soul that needs the uplift, one that needs but the smallest sliver of peace to bravely step out of the darkness and share their gift.

But Write

Rising sleepily from my comfy couch while the house is suddenly quiet, all I can hear in the space between my ears is the quiet murmur to write. It’s so cozy here and I never get the chance to nap.  Even the dog isn’t pestering me. “But write”.  I only have 30 minutes until the next chauffeur shift.  “Have you not seen that I can do big things in a small amount of time”?  Nehemiah rebuilt Jerusalem after 150 years of desolation in 52 days.  Crumbled walls, impassable entries, unprotected people, discouraged spirits all rebuilt in 52 short days. Not without effort, but with full faith that God would show up in a big way.  Ok ok, I get it.  I’m up.  But first a snack.  “Humph”, I sense.  Then a bathroom break.  I should switch the laundry over to the dryer.  “Nope. Sit”.  Ok, ok.  Here I am.  Plugged in, not sure where this spiral will take me in the 20 minutes I have, but I’m obedient.  I wait for the words to come and sure enough, here they are.  He provides.  On small scales, in big ways, consistently over the span of time.  Not often in the way we’d like, with the results we expect, or even in the timeframe we desire.  But still he appears, reminding us He’s been there all along.  Waiting for us to arise from our slumber, stop the procrastinating and participate.  How humbling that the God that created the universe wants little old, fragile, silly me.  I’ve been asleep too long, indifferent, quiet, unsure, full of excuses: I’m not smart enough, not connected enough, not well-versed, not well-read, not inspired, not thin-enough, not cute-enough, not strong, tall, or clear-voiced enough.  A lot of Nots.  Too many Nots.  Nots creating Knots.  Ouch.  I’ve been trying to do this life-thing on my own devices, in my own strength.  Silly me.  Releasing now, surrendering what little I have left, to the infinite power, wisdom, strength, and courage of someone that knows every single thing, that has seen and felt every single emotion,  that has infinite power but instead, waits for little old me to rise and shine.  

And, just as quickly as the words came, they begin to slow and finally depart in perfect time to rescue my oldest from work.  What was frustration, a rushed sense of busyness has now been replaced with calm, thoughtfulness, thankfulness...like my own personal love note.  I sense a smirk.

Flurry Days

This week was quite the flurry...seven straight days of baseball, Florida in-laws under roof, while still hosting a sleepy post-vacation buzz. It was a feet-hitting-floor-instant-ON kinda week. Entertaining family guests, cleaning house while they visited others, soaking and scrubbing clay stained baseball pants for another evening game, prepping dinner for early eating, then packing coolers for hot spectators and a hard working baseball player. Thankful for a rejuvenating stay at the beach to fill the reserves, never feeling overwhelmed.

School's out for summer and my precious silent writing space has been invaded. My therapy time... soul words that clear the shadows. Squeezing in car time during practice and scattered notes on my phone. As busy as this week was, I felt a shift...old Lisa returning like the tingling of a sleepy limb reawakening. Parts though, still wanting to hold fast my new awareness so in the busy days I don't forget those important lessons, my bullet points. Wanting the change to stick to my bones.

A call to reality, however, was a text from daughter....'when you get home, I'd like to talk'. The world continued to spin, but suddenly laser focus was on her. Never letting the flurry supersede relationship, once home, a bee-line to her room closing the door behind. The cleaning and entertaining would have to wait. Snuggled up beside her and quieted brain to truly hear her words and the meaning behind them. Thankful that she seeks me out and trusts my opinion. A lifetime of listening to all the small stuff so I won't miss the big stuff. Advice on a boy that broke her heart... should she extend a second chance. Personally being The Queen Recipient of Second Chances, with protective hesitation, I agreed. Taking inventory of all the chances I've received, the fourth and fifth chances I've regretfully given, passing along wisdom for both sides. Offer Grace, but don't abandon common sense. Take it slow and don't dangle guilt.

Content, we parted and the flurry continued but home base is secure, so all is well.

 

What Next?

Many have approached me to offer their thoughts on my writing, telling me they connected my loss with their own, many offering praise on my writing ability. Humbly, I offer my thanks, but this entire process has made me question everything. Every aspect of my life is up for inspection. Do I continue writing? Could I write as eloquently without the passion of those incredible moments? Deeper, what am I passionate about? What truly brings me joy?

I've attended many business related self-help seminars where you leave wired, ready to attack the world. Then shortly afterwards, you are exactly where you started. Sometimes even lower than you started with the added guilt of not performing up to par. This month has left me feeling like every single neuron is now sitting just barely beneath the surface. Beyond just feeling emotional, I crave more from every moment. I don't want to loose this heightened awareness. I don't want to look back in a few weeks, settled back into my routine, and see that I am exactly where I started. I want to examine every friendship. I want to be a better friend. I want to expect the same from those around me. I want to be a more present mom. I want to find what brings my family joy and shower it upon them. I want to remove those things around my home and in my life that do not bring me absolute joy. I don't want to be on my death bed and wish that I had done this life-examination sooner. I want to consider what I put in and on my body to encourage better health. Maya and I are now prime candidates for Cancer. Why not attack it before it rears it's ugly head..slowing any potential growth or prevent it in the first place? So many questions... An old friend at the funeral had recently experienced a similar loss and he mirrored my feelings of not wanting to loose this raw emotion...this heightened awareness. Do you have to experience extreme loss to feel this way? Hasn't everyone experienced some sort of loss? Could I possibly spread my Mom's kind of love among my family, my friends, my community? Would they get it? Would I appear crazy? Do I care? So many questions...where do I even begin?

Love seems as good a place as any to begin. I don't want to pick up some surface level challenge where I start paying Starbucks bills for the car behind me...it has to be more significant than that. There are so many people out there silently hurting. How do I reach them? My tea-shop gals shoot love and peace out in a radius around them like ripples in a pond. Is that enough? My mom had this gift of being able to tell when anyone needed more love. A townie gal bad-mouthed my mom, my family, and when we 'educated' her on the details instead of keeping her distance or becoming angry, she shocked us all by continuing to reach out to her. This gal was very ill, had experienced great loss, it was clearly eating her up inside and making her bitter. My mom saw through her anger and loved her still. Always checking in on her...loving her regardless of her exterior conditions. So, my questions become how do I find those silently hurting and how do I love them? And so it begins...my transformation into finding, spreading, and culminating love. Stick with me if you wish to join my revolution.