reminded

i wrote this actually april 18, 2011 and was reminded of it as i was driving back from sioux falls yesterday...i think the sunlight during this time of year is so hopeful and brought me back to this.

a couple of sundays ago, i went to fill up my car before heading off to work in the wee hours. frost was still on the back window and knowing that the sun promised to be strong that day, i didn't bother scraping it off. instead i wrote on the window through the frost with my finger 'Jesus loves you!' as i waited for the tank to fill. i felt a little cheesy, but i also knew that i'd been called to be more bold.

i just knew that someone, as i drove along, needed to see that affirmation, know that truth--that in the relatively small time that the message would be able to be read through the frost--before it disappeared/melted--someone who desperately needed to know that, be reminded of that,would read those words on the back window of my little vw wagon. God would use such a small, small gift of obedience. i was sure.

pleased with it and trusting that i was being an instrument of love, glorifying God through my listening to the Spirit, i climbed into my car. as a peered into my rearview mirror, do you know what i saw? emblazened with the morning sun were the thos words i had just written: Jesus loves you! i was completely caught off guard on how they completely startled my heart. i sobbed. i was the person who needed to read them. i was the person who needed affirmation, who needed reminding. i desperately needed to know that again...in my heart.

wow.

God chuckled lovingly as i drove along. sweet girl, he said. i've given you all the tools to know me, to really know me. i just need your heart again. i was humbled so.

what's your name?

Several months ago a girlfriend and I went out for coffee one night. This is a rare treat to go out during a 'work/school' night and meet up. She needed a talk and I wanted to listen--so there we were enjoying our chai tea lattes volleying frustrations and encouragements. All warm and cozy.

We were sitting at a high-top near the window watching the snow sloppily come down in wet, loose clumps--making puddles instead of mounds. A man walked passed the window--he was dragging a huge suitcase and his left leg with a twisted mal-shaped ankle/foot. His coat soaked black around his shoulders from being outside in the slush/snow/rain too long. He looked cold and miserable.

I was taken back by seeing this man because we were in the suburbs--granted only a first ring suburb and Edina! 

Now 'First ring suburb' is a term used by El and I mostly (I think--I've never heard anyone else use it)--the burbs closest to Minneapolis/St. Paul are 1st ring, then the next layer 2nd, and then the outer suburbs-3rd,etc.) And Edina is a suburb know for it's constituents having money and being snooty about it--on fact the old retail joke around town is--'EDINA: Every Day I Need Attention. I digress...

My inner monologue went something like this in during the course of about five seconds:

"There a homeless man walking outside Caribou Coffee! In Edina! How in the world did he get here? He looks like he's in bad shape dragging his ankle like that--you can't fake dragging your ankle around like that--that must be real and golly, that must hurt! I wonder how he hurt his ankle? Or, it could be a birth defect, I guess. I wonder how did he get to be  homeless wandering the sidewalks of a Caribou Coffee on a Thursday night? In Edina? In the sleet? Where is he going to sleep tonight? Wow, that $4 latte makes me feel guilty."

My friend and I looked at each other sadly. My friend remorsed (and I paraphrase), "It's sad when we can't freely go and help someone because we're scared for our own safety, because we're women." I was taken aback by her statement/thinking--I just didn't/don't think in those terms 'because we're women'. While she was pondering that, I was stumped about what could we do to make a difference to this man, because not doing anything didn't seem to be an option. So we agreed that because there were two of us...it seemed more likely we'd actually help.

We devised that we'd offer to buy the man a cup of coffee. So as we left, we did. He accepted and we went back in to get him coffee and a bottle of water. The manager was in anguish about the whole thing--this homeless man was a nuisance and here we were 'encouraging' him by buying him a cup of coffee and there was also sadness in the manager, I think, because he wasn't completely heartless--but was torn with the 'business side' of himself and not wanting to get involved and feeling sorry about this homeless man's situation.

We gave him his coffee, he thanked us as he swayed--his breath smelling of alcohol. I blurted out, "Do you believe in Jesus? Can we pray for you?" About a subtle as a brick, I am.

"Yes, m'am, I do," he responded.

"What's your name?" my friend asked.

Her question dumbfounded me--of course you should ask someones name when first meeting them--duh, Leah! Her simple question struck me deeply. I felt such a rush of affection and admiration to her. She knew what to say--I didn't. I wanted to get deep and she just asked his name.

"Michael."

After introductions we prayed. My friend and I stood either side of Michael and each put a hand on his shoulder and he put a hand on each of ours. We prayed for direction and protection for Michael, for hardened hearts to be softened, for reconnection with family.

Michael then lit a cigarette and told us a bit about his life--disjointed, strange stories on how his brother had thought that he (Michael) was Jesus and how he couldn't go to a shelter because he was transgendered, and how he was a veteran, but couldn't go to the VA. My friend respectfully admonished him, telling him he wasn't Jesus--calling him 'my friend'.

She then asked him where he would go to keep warm that night. Michael lifted his coat sleeve and showed us a series of paper hospital bracelets in various stages of deterioration. He usually went to the emergency room of a near by hospital on particularly cold nights. They knew him there.

We then parted ways. My friend saying "Keep warm, Michael".

It was an odd encounter, but left such an impression.

I think about it a lot, actually.

I think about Michael and how's he doing. I saw him the other day as I drove home from work at the bus stop talking to a woman who was handing him a cup of coffee. I think about how I usually know what to say and how I didn't that night, but my friend did. I think about how grateful I am that we don't have to do this thing...this life, alone. We can encourage each other and spur each other on to do and say and be loving to others.

We can do so much if we do it together--we can feed the poor and defend the defenseless, shelter the homeless--if we do it together. This 'striking out' on your own isn't for everybody. We can be each other's buttresses and love others and go into situations we wouldn't have otherwise if we were alone.

I didn't know what to say, but my friend did. Maybe she wouldn't have had the courage to pray for this man, but I did. We couldn't have done it without each other. It was humbling and revealing.

I think about it a lot. And I think I should do more than just think about it. I'm still praying trying to figure it out, but I know feel changed by this, that I know I must and can and will.

Imagine what you could do if you took another person along or joined-up. Or mobilized your neighborhood to do something? Or your co-workers? Or your church?

We could do so much.

~leah

number 13

Elliot is, at this very moment, cleaning out my beloved VW Passat Wagon in order to make it trade-in worthy for a....gasp....minivan.

Yes, it has come to this. But seriously, traveling 1000 miles to visit family in Texas in the wagon with three kiddos, a dog and luggage is a bit much. And we do travel down south at least twice a year--sometimes three and it'll be nice to have when my family visits. And so many countless reasons why a minivan would fit our life right now.

The wagon was our first really new car (2002)--we bought it when we found out we were expecting Vivian and I got a new job in 2006. We knew that we needed reliable transportation to tote around that bundle of joy. It is/was family chic in my mind--leather heated seats, sunroof, has a CD player AND a tape player, huge 'trunk' for the dog(s at the time) and matched (get ready to roll your eyes) the new Prada bag I had bought when I found out I got the job with my current employer. Well, the overpriced purse has been stowed in its dust bag for some time and now I sport a lovely cross-body that allows my hands to be free as a wrangle a two-year-old into a carseat. The times, they have changed. And I'm okay with that.

Elliot and I have owned--wait for it--12 cars since we have been married. We will have been married for 13 years this July.

Buick Le Sabre-Baby Blue
Chevy Corsica
Monte Carlo 78
Monte Carlo 79
Chevy Celebrity (we bought with wedding gift money)
Chevy Cavalier
VW Golf (craigslist)
Buick Skylark which Elliot bought for $10 off a guy at Pizza John's
Chrysler Minivan (when we didn't have kids)
Ford F150 Truck
VW Passat Wagon
Buick Le Sabre--bronze metallic -mist

It's been six years since we purchased the V-dub. And five since we bought the bronze-metallic-mist LeSabre. So in the first 8 years we bought all those cars listed--a total of 10. Wow.

So number 13 might just be a minivan. Just don't get me any of those stick-figure families to put on the back and I'll just be a-okay.

~leah

sun-shiny walk

Well, I got my sun-shiny walk yesterday with two of my favorite people: Sylvia and Louis.

It was G L O R I O U S...

 

 

The sun was so bright it was blinding and the drip-drops of melting snow provided a delightful background as we pranced down the walk.

 

 

Louis was most excited about eating the snow.



 

 And tried to make a snowman on the sidewalk.

 

And loved walking on the many low walls.

 

 

and, of course, sitting.

 

 

 Sylvia on the other hand wanted to run and run and when we caught up to her, Louis thought she had fallen and tried to help her up.

 

 

The main event of our traverse was PUDDLE JUMPING!

 

 

 

It was a pretty good sun-shiny walk and goodness knows we can't wait for more spring!









 "Yep, more spring!" Sylvia concurs.

Slightly Spring

 

Sigh. If you're like me, you're ready for spring.

 

With the telltale signs--warmer sun, melting of snow and I read that someone spotted a robin yesterday (big news for us Minnesoters!)--it's got me all itchy for spring--even slightly spring. I want to see yellow tulips and big fluffy white clouds in the sky. I want to open our windows, go for brisk sun-shiny walks, and doze on the couch cuddled up as only you can do when it's slightly spring.

But, alas, another dusting of snow this morning with more to come.

Today I start a four day weekend and while rest and play are on the agenda--I want to do some spring cleaning and organizing and generally freshen up our home too. Since, it seems, we won't be occupying the outdoors at full force for a few more weeks.

 

I'm not a big crafter nor do I holiday/theme decorate much--but I always change out my candles to more springy smells (I still have a pretty good stockade from my Pier 1 days) and change out what's on the top of our built-in buffet (right now it's wedding pictures with a nod to Valentine's) to something remotely springy--like my bamboo runner and jars of river rocks. I put away the orange pillows and leave the green. I usually put away the chenille deep orange throws we have near the couch, but they are still in high use with it being so cold. Oh and I probably should put away the Little People Nativity Set that's on our rubbermaid plastic dresser that houses our winter wear near the door (classy, I know).

Hmmm...I wonder if they make a Little People 'Last Supper' or Little People 'Crucifixion'?

I switch out mine and the kids' closets/dressers--which is no easy task. No one tells you when you become a parent that you'll spend a surprisingly amount of time shucking clothes around--depending on season, growth spurts and organizing hand-me-downs. We consistently have at least one or two boxes in our upstairs foyer there for the express purpose of sorting out what we need to donate and keep. And the 'kept' are sent downstairs to be housed in tucker totes until summoned by the next growth spurt or season.

I already switched out my closet last weekend which was inspiring and alleviated (well, slightly) my need to go get new clothes. In my line of work, I truly should have one or two new pieces a season. I know, I know...'Beware of institutions that require new clothes' -Ralph Emerson, but another man with a similar name signs my check. <wink>

I got rid about three boxes worth (off to ARC) and put aside a bag of things for a young woman I work with who just lost her mom around Christmas. Her dad died two years ago and now she's parent-less and just in her early 20s. My heart really goes out to her and I'm going to try to help her anyway I can.

There's cleaning to do, curtains to wash (I try to do this at least twice a year), linens to switch out and frankly, that's enough--all in the name of slightly spring and the hope of spring!

Oh and El and I should probably take down the Christmas lights outside--it is March, after all.
 

What are some of things you do when anticipating spring?

~leah





it's not about me

Most days I need perspective.

Some days--days when I haven't read my Bible and taken the time to be with God, to pray and seek His Heart--I lose perspective.

Issues seem much bigger than they are--my four year old spilled her drink again and my six-year-old wore holey pants to school, I can't name one Lady Gaga song--am I getting old? Where is my two year old? Did I ask too many questions on the conference call?

And my wants seem to overwhelm me--they are urgent and flocked with seemingly deep longing--a new sofa, new shoes, new purse, new dining room table, lipstick, a new outfit, notecards, wrapping paper, rugs, vases, flowers to put them in, bath bombs, wine, ice cream, oh, and thinner thighs--right now! After I have my ice cream though.

I start grousing and let myself grouse. I become less compassionate and more hard-hearted and quick to judge. I become entitled and selfish. I become less grateful and more needy.  I then become annoyed because I know I shouldn't, "but...but...but..."

I need perspective.

I need my mother to say: "Snap out of it!"

I need to go to Jesus.

See, my kids are smart and healthy. My husband loves me deeply. I live a good life--I have clean drinking water and food available to me when ever I want/need it. I've never been through trauma of any kind. I can openly worship Jesus with other believers at a church without fear of death or imprisionment. I sleep on a very large comforable bed in a heated home. We earn a paycheck every single week from our two stable full time jobs. I need to remember that Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead so that I, that we, can be with God. And knowing that joy, that mercy I am to share it that with others. Because it really is amazing, enthralling, and wonderful that God sent His son so that we might be at peace with Him and know Him better. That is all that really matters, isn't it?

Such mercy. Such grace.

When I have perspective on how Christ views me, my life, my future--how He views others, how He sees the world and loves us so--I can fly. I can rise above what this world offers. I can not want, not be afraid. I can block out the noise that is so encumbering and focus on doing what I've been called to do. I can stop focusing on myself. I can serve others. I can forgive them. I can encourage them. I can help them. I can love.

I am embarrassed by my selfishness. I don't want to lose perspective again, but I will and I am humbled by the grace Jesus extends to me--repeatedly.

My best friend from college wrote on her profile page in the 'about you' section: "It's not about me". At first I thought: 'A little lofty, isnt't that?' and then it hit me. Wow, she's right. It's not about us.

But do you know who can say that? A person totally secure that the God of Heaven and Earth delights in her. It's not self-depricating to deny 'self' in this manner--it's glorifying to God.

It's about Him.

And my ego stutters a 'but...but...but' at the reading of those words, then maybe I just might not know how fully Jesus loves me or comprehend His sacrifice.

I just might have lost perspective.
I just might have to go to Jesus...again.

~leah

howdy

Hi.

I'm kind of tickled to be starting this journey as a blogger. I don't mean to be a 'Negative Nancy' right off the bat, but I really don't like the word 'blog' or 'blogger'. I can't seem to come up with something clever to replace it right now, but I'll work on that. I love words and I'm sure we can figure out something more appropriate and less offensive to the tongue and ears.

I also don't like office parks or care much for strip malls, but that's neither here nor there. But that's all the things I really don't like. To sum: the word 'blog', office parks, and strip malls. So glad to get that out of the way because there are so many things I do like and admire.

I am married and have three children. Ta-dah! I work outside the home and I'm in my mid-thirty's trying to not live a cliche (like starting a blog in your mid-thirty's), but doing so in many ways and fluctuating between being okay with that and striking out. I love Jesus. I love my husband, Elliot. I love our three children. I love the city we live in, Minneapolis. I love our neighborhood and our neighbors. Life is good and God is even better.

I am passionate about many things. I am a tad serious, but think I have a pretty good sense of humor--so I figure they balance each other out. I like real things. I work for a 'famous American designer' as a rep for one of his lines and I generally like my job--I'm good at it and for the most part we like what we're good at, don't we?

I feel I should state the reason I want to 'blog'. I, like so many, many others, think I have something of value to share and say. I want to do more in my life--I want my work/words to have meaning. So we'll just see about that.

~leah

p.s. Hi, mom.