The Emperor's Expectorant

Some people are visionaries. They are able to see things the way they hope and dream for them to become. They are the ones that are goal setters and star reachers. “To dream the impossible dream….”

Some people are idealists. They see things from an absolute perfection perspective. They are the ones that know all the rules and proper procedures and are usually pretty good instructors in such methods. “If you do it this exactly like this, then this will be the positive result….”

While both types are quite admirable, I am not either one. I may have attempted to be them a time or two, but I have a hard time seeing anything other than stark reality. “The Emperor is not wearing any clothes…”

Yes, I have hopes and dreams and a few ideals, but the reality I see far outshines anything else. Funny thing, though. With hindsight sometimes it becomes obvious that the realist in me had a clearer picture of the future that my future-minded friends. Often, if you take a good look at the way things really, truly are, it is not difficult to see where they are going.

In looking ahead and trying to face the future, there has been one word that always gets thrown at me. It’s happened all of my life. I’ve written about it before because, well, it just keeps coming up. (Here’s what I wrote about the last time I got the reminder.)

The word: EXPECTATION

The realist in me has eliminated the need for a lot of expectations. Again, I do have hopes and dreams. I just don’t tie my entire future to them and I can still find peace and satisfaction even if they never come to fruition. When and if they ever become a reality, then I’m all the more blessed and thankful. Mostly I’ve learned not to have great expectations for other people. Especially those close to me. It makes me love them all the more when they actually do something that I hoped they would do, but didn’t bank my happiness on it.

What I’m dealing with right now is, however, other people’s expectations; those other people being the visionaries and idealists living in my world. They have such great expectations of me.

I want to tell those people a few things….

First of all, thank you. Thank you for your vote of confidence. Thank you for thinking that I can be better than I am. Thank you for thinking that I am capable and talented enough to achieve all that you envision. Thank you for setting your standards high.

Secondly, I’m sorry. I have failed you. I am sorry that I have let you down. I have tried, but I have not been able to live up to your expectations. Your absolute need to see me accomplish what you’ve prioritized is only filling your life with strife and disappointment. The anger that you have over what you see as my failure is killing you, not me.

You set those priorities, not me.

Yes, I have failed. But my failure is in trying to please you and not my Creator.

Yes, I am at fault. I’ve stepped over the fault line several times and have accumulated a great big pile of rubble all on my own, even without your expectations. I have more guilt that I can carry.

But my faults are not your fault. They have nothing to do with you.

As much as I might want to be, I am not responsible for your expectations. Only you can control that.

I hope that you will keep reaching for the stars and showing others the proper procedures because you will be an inspiration to someone else along the way.

But please, release me. Let me go.

You will be the one that ends up with the true freedom.

Of course, I have no expectations about what you’ll do.

I’ll just wait to be surprised and blessed by even more than I could have hoped for.

Amazing Grace will always be my song of praise.
For it was grace, that brought me liberty,
I do not know, just why He came to love me so.
He looked beyond my faults and saw my need.

I shall forever lift mine eyes to Calvary,
To view the cross, where Jesus died for me
How marvelous, His grace that caught my falling soul
He Looked beyond my faults and saw my
need.
-Dottie Rambo

They even did more than we had hoped, for their first action was to give themselves to the Lord and to us, just as God wanted them to do. 2 Corinthians 8:5

Facebook brings back Andrew Jackson

I am a fan of the musical. I always have been. Old Rogers and Hammerstein movies always have a way of sucking me in. I’ve been to Broadway and seen a couple of shows. I’ve experienced traveling production companies and local theater productions too. And, don’t mess with my Andrew Lloyd Webber soundtracks.

There’s just something about needing to burst into song when you reach a critical juncture in your life that appeals to me. Having a four-part chorus line to back you up is also a bonus. There have been many times in life when I met a crisis head-on wishing beyond all else that I had just the right lyrics to some power ballad, a voice like Maria Friedman, and a couple of back-up singers. Somehow that would have made whatever it was I was facing not quite so calamitous.

My husband is a professionally trained musician. He has never been a big fan of the musical. Not the Broadway kind, anyway. To him, it just isn’t serious music. When we first met, my love of the musical was the geez-louise factor about me that he merely tolerated to humor me. Since then, he’s learned to laugh at them. Admittedly, some of the lyrics are a bit ridiculous. (for example : “Sure as the tide wash the golden sand, Benjamin is an innocent man; Sure as bananas need the sun, We are the criminal guilty ones”; and yes we saw "Menopause: The Musical" together - thanks, S & J!)

When the whole Disney High School Musical phenomena happened, I became terribly conflicted. A new musical, yay! But high school? Um. Uh. Geez –louise.

I wanted to jump on the High School Musical wave with everybody else. I refrained. I was a little intimidated.

I never was very good at the whole high school thing. It took me three years to finally begin to figure it out, and by then the band was already playing Pomp and Circumstance. I think mostly I spent my high school years waiting. I’m not sure what I was waiting for, but I knew I hadn’t found it yet. I was so busy waiting for whatever the next thing was, that I think I missed a lot of what was going on around me. I guess if I had to sum up my years at Andrew Jackson Senior High in one phrase it would be: Almost, but not yet.

I remember one incident with my guidance counselor, Melba Collier. She was a wacky sort of woman whose reputation preceded her. She was tiny in stature and wore tailored, no-frills clothes. Her smile flashed a hefty investment in dental work. To be honest, I formed my opinion of her based on what all those who went before me had said about her, and it wasn't pretty.

One day in my senior year Ms. Collier sent a notice to Mrs. Camp’s trig class for me to report to her office. I walked out of that third floor classroom and headed down to the first floor guidance office. When I walked into her office, Ms. Collier came from around her desk, closed the door, and then sat down in chair beside me. She put her arm around me and began to cry. I had no idea why she was crying. Not a clue. I sat there speechless and let her cry. I remember thinking that suddenly I had confirmation of what everyone had been saying about her all along – she was truly wacky (cue the music, insert Broadway power ballad and a few back-up singers right here).

I finally realized that she did not call me into her office for me to comfort her. She was crying FOR ME. Turns out some new scores were out, there were 10 slots and with the new scores I was #11. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened that year. There had been a series of runner-up kinds of outcomes for me that year. Ms. Collier was trying to show, in the best way she knew how, some empathy for me. God bless her. Maybe she wasn’t so wacky after all.

I guess the wacky one was me because as Ms. Collier cried and went on to explain the sorry-you-didn’t-make-it thing, I remained a little clueless. I saw no reason to shed tears. I couldn’t figure out why she was so upset, or why she thought I was so upset. Because I wasn’t.

I wasn’t bothered because I was too busy still waiting. For something else. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I was pretty certain it didn’t have anything to do with those last 10 slots. I was still waiting for the not yet to become the now and forever.

Almost, but not yet.

So, fast forward a few decades and Facebook brings back high school. Suddenly, I’m reconnected with people I literally haven’t seen since graduation. Finding all the new-old friends again has also brought back that almost, but not yet feeling. In many ways, I’m still waiting for something. Still not sure what it is.

Am I waiting to finally get it right? I mean, not just high school but the whole life in general thing. Maybe.

If I could go back and do high school over again, you bet I would do it different. I held out and held back a lot in high school. In some areas, that was good and I’m a better person for it. I held out on the opportunities for drugs, alcohol, and sex. I just said no. I lost a friend or two over it, but the truth is I probably needed to lose them anyway. The holding back is what I’d do differently. I held back too much of what I should have been giving away. My love. My knowledge. My help. My concern.

If I could have a conversation today with my then 18-year old self it might include some statements like this:

The chorus line can be just as much fun as a lead role, and with a lot less pressure.

Every once in a while, a little extra eye liner and some Capezio dance shoes can change your outlook. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Sing. Dance. Out loud. In public.

It’s OK to tell someone you love them. As a matter of fact, it is very important to do so. Sing it if you have to.

Share what you know. Don’t keep it to yourself. It just might help somebody else. Sing it if you have to.

There are around you people speaking destiny into your life even though you don’t realize it. Listen to them.
There are people around speaking destiny into your life even though you don’t realize it. Do NOT listen to them.
The challenge is figuring out the difference for yourself without blaming either one for the outcome of your destiny.

Now I guess I’m waiting on someone to cue the orchestra for an encore. Maybe I’ll never get it right, but hopefully, if I ever get any kind of do-over maybe I’ll at least be a little better at it the next time.

And by the way, I love you!

“Then he said: 'The God of our fathers has chosen you to know his will and to see the Righteous One and to hear words from his mouth. You will be his witness to all men of what you have seen and heard. And now what are you waiting for? Get up, be baptized and wash your sins away, calling on his name.' Acts 22:14-16

Peggy and Promptings

Peggy and I became fast friends as freshmen in college. Our dorm rooms were right across the hall from each other. Her roommate was the quirky, eccentric chick on the hall; mine was America’s sweetheart. She and I were the “real” people somewhere in between those two extremes and we found a connection with each other there.

My memories of her from those college days are that she never hesitated much when it came to going for the most out of life. She was a music major. She changed from piano to voice because she couldn’t lug those 88 keys around with her as she lived life to the fullest, but she could take her voice anywhere she went.

It wasn’t long before she fell in love. We were sophomores when she and Ken got married. Several of us on that dorm hall wore the blue pleated skirt bridesmaid’s dresses in the wedding. I was her Maid of Honor.



When she left the dorm and started her life as a newlywed, naturally we were not as close any more, but we still kept up with each other. I remember the first time she invited me over to their cozy little love nest and she made homemade soup.

Her first son was born before we graduated from college. It was another step in the separate ways our lives took.

After graduation, I moved away.Then I moved back. And got married, and then moved even further away. She and her husband had another son. And another one. And another one. And then she and Ken divorced.

We kept up with an occasional email. We’re not as close as we once were, but the memories of our friendship remained cherished and favored.

Sometime right before Easter this year, I got a burden on my heart for Peggy. I didn’t know at the time where it came from or why the burden was so marked and heavy on my heart. (You can read about that here).

We’d had a little communication by email so I knew she was ill. But, really, I had no idea.

My heavy heart led me to call her a few times. We never really got to “talk.” I got to hear her voice again. She got to hear me say, “You’re in my prayers.” That’s about all.

As the days went by so did the short but sweet attempts at communication. Facebook updates, mostly. I kept looking forward to a long, intimate girlfriend conversation with her.

Before I knew it, April was over. April ended on a harsh note for me. Some unexpected distractions in my own life kept my focus on things other than Peggy or that burden I had felt. I was busy staring at all the broken pieces in and around my life that had accumulated and piled up all around me over the last couple of weeks. I was fully engulfed in grieving over all that brokenness.

Then I got a wakeup call about my friend.

And an answer to where and why I had felt such a burden.

And another reason to grieve even more.

Peggy passed away.

She was only in her 40’s.

She died of a cancer I can’t even pronounce – leiomyosarcoma

I don’t know why things like that happen. But I do know that God’s hand was in my life because of it. I know without a doubt that the Holy Spirit was the one prompting me to reach out to her just weeks, days really, before her death. Although I didn’t get to talk about any details of her life or her cancer with her, I did get to hear her voice again. I cannot tell you just how loudly that voice is in my memory right now. The Holy Spirit made that happen.

I have been reminded how important it is to follow His promptings.

I can say this from experience: Today, if you hear His voice . . . Listen. And follow.

Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the LORD our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care. Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts ... Psalm 95:6-8

Go Hatters!

A week or so ago I heard the Director of Missions for our county mention the local Baptist Association’s new website. Several days later, I finally remembered it when I was actually sitting in front of a computer so I clicked on over to check it out.

I clicked on several pages, read his blog, looked at some pictures, then I went to their calendar events. The very first thing listed for March was:

“Stetson University Mission Group in CBA”

What??!! How did I not know about this? Have I been on a long winter’s nap or something?

I set about making phone calls and sending emails for more information and learned that they were to arrive on Sunday. It was Thursday when I found out about it. Three days!!!

What I found out from my inquisition was that it was the Stetson University Baptist Collegiate Mission group (BCM) and this is their spring break mission trip. They planned to do some repair and renovation work on the Christian Women’s Job Corp (CWJC) building. Which, I might add, is in desperate need of a re-working.

Well blow me down. The CWJC building is on the property of the church that I attend (where my husband is employed, for goodness sakes). Scott and I actually lived in that little building for a month or two back in 1997 when we first moved here and the builders weren’t quite finished with our house. The front door of that building is just a few yards from the door of the church kitchen.

I’m a graduate of Stetson and was what we called at that time, a BCMer. I felt like my own family was coming to town.

I’m not entirely sure how the Stetson BCM group from Florida got hooked up with our tiny little rural South Carolina county and it would probably be too long to list all the associations here, but I do not think it was coincidence. I’m just grateful and blessed and feel privileged that God made all those connections in my neighborhood.

This is Margie. She was on the BCM staff when I was in school. She didn’t have the title then, but she was still the one in charge. Now, she has the title. She is the director. At least until December when she retires.

I know I said it’s rural SC, and this does give the impression of an outhouse (without walls, no less), which may or may not be typical for our area. It was, however, the toilet they removed from the building so they could replace the rotten bathroom floor.

Here’s Margie again. That’s me on the left (I am the one who does not look like I belong in the picture. The oddball). The other two kids? Well, they are children of people that I went to school with. Troy’s daughter and Debbie’s son. I couldn’t believe it when I was introduced to them. That’s why I had to have a picture made with them, so I could go back later for a second look. I am so old. Funny. In some ways, I still think of myself as one of them. Maybe I should consider therapy.

Here’s the entire group.

And some more of their work.

I’ve spent lunch breaks with them the last two days. Being around them and involved in their conversations has reminded me what the brains and hearts of college people (students AND their leaders!) are really like.

They are thinkers. They are learners. They are doers. They are passionate.

They reminded me that I have gotten away from some of that. And I want it back.

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. James 1:22.

It's been great, but goodbye 2008

It's New Year's Eve. It's time to reminisce. It's time for countdowns and highlights and top ten lists from the year coming to a close. And it's time for parties. Jules at The Roost is doing all of that on her blog. She's hosting a picture party and is my inspiration today.

Here are some of my favorite pictures of 2008 not so much because the photography is good, but rather because of the memories they invoke. And actually, the first two are not really photographs, but they highlight some outstanding 2008 moments for me. The other 8 are just some special memories.

1. Ella Minnow Pea:
I read a lot of books, but not much fiction. This little book was an exceptional exception. Ella Minnow Pea is a satirical "novel in letters" that had me laughing out loud.

2. Mamma Mia:

We don't go to the theatre to see many movies. We usually wait for the DVD. However, when our travel plans fell through one weekend, we ended up at the theatre to see Mamma Mia! Again, not typically the type of movie we go to see and not one the best movies I've ever seen, but, oh, how it made me want to laugh and sing and dance! Not many things do that for me. I still laugh every time I think about Pierce Brosnon singing "SOS."

3. The Man with the Camera:

You know who is always missing from all the photos? The man with the camera. We had a big anniversary celebration at church back in October. I took my camera that day, and this is the ONLY photo I took. I love it because there are never any pictures of him - He's always behind the camera. He, of course, took several hundred photos that day. (and he wasn't in a single one of them!). He does excellent work. He's the one linked on my sidebar.

4. The Birthday Cake:

My absolute favorite, plain pound cake made from scratch by my absolute favorite, anything-but-plain husband. Yum. It's one of those memories I can smell.

5. A Friendship Garden:

Phyllis and Laney delivered this little garden to my office and made me feel so special. It was so thoughtful and warmed my heart so. You can read about it here.

6. More Friendship and a little Fiesta:

The Christmas Tree Fiesta plates are the best gift ever from the best friend ever. She loves Jesus and it shows in everything she does!

7. Mom and Dad: This picture was taken during a summer visit to their house (we live 3 hours apart). Smiles, pink cheeks, plaids, and polka dots.

8. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - no, wait, it's the CAT that's hot, not the roof...
I love this picture because for one, Marbles is quite camera shy and often runs away even before she hears the shutter click. Two, even if we do get a picture of her, it's never of her belly. She's a little modest about that too. The look on her face here just seems to say, "It's July and I'm wearing a fur coat. Leave me alone while I try to cool it all off."

9. Hillbilly Sisters:In July I went to a different time zone to sister #1's house to celebrate sister #2's 50th birthday. Of course there was cake. And all three of us brought presents for each other. Hillbilly teeth was one of them. We laughed so hard at this that one of us had to have a wardrobe change. Not saying who (but it was NOT sister #3!). Quite a giggle fit, it was. Still makes me laugh.

10. Christmas Music

This was one of those things that I felt so privileged to be a part of. It's hard to explain. Our church joined with another local church to present this musical, which made it more powerful than it ever would have been on our own. Every song was about the name of Jesus. (And by the way, the Man with the Camera mentioned in #3 took this photo). We worshiped and praised Jesus with some new faces and friends and it was wonderful. I'm praying for more of that kind of thing for 2009.

Happy New Year!

Wealth and honor come from you; you are the ruler of all things. In your hands are strength and power to exalt and give strength to all. Now, our God, we give you thanks, and praise your glorious name. "But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you only what comes from your hand." 1 Chronicles 29-12-14

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus

And in my experience, Virginia IS Santa Claus. Actually, we call her Ginger, but I'm pretty sure her driver's license lists her as Virginia.

If you read my letter to Santa, you might already know that I asked him to bring me Christmas Tree Fiesta dishes. Well, he obviously delivered them to Ginger's house and being the sweet friend that she is, she wrapped them up and made sure they found their way to me.


It was the Sunday after Christmas. We had just come back from a holiday visit out of town while Ginger and her husband were packing up to leave on their own trip, plus she had other family coming over. We didn't have a lot of time, so we drove over to their house and just stood on the sidewalk for a quick visit. She put the beautifully wrapped gift in the back seat of my car.

Scott and I had several places we wanted to go that day. When we left their house we didn't go home, we just set out from there. So, the unopened gift sat in the back seat of the car all day long.

It was dark and late when we finally got home. One of the last places we went that day was the grocery store, so we had all those grocery bags to unload as well as some other things we'd gathered that day, including the gift box from Ginger. Then I had to put the groceries away, tend to the cat, make some phone calls before it got too late, and God only knows what else I busied myself with. I still hadn't opened the gift. And really, that's not like me at all. I usually can't wait to unwrap a gift, or at least peek in the gift bag.

On top of all that we had planned to do that day, it was also the day of my Christmas crash. You know, the big let down after a month of all the extras: extra family visits, extra food, extra choir rehearsals, extra mail, extra boxes and tape, extra programs, extra activities, extra decorations, extra emotions, extra sentiments. And then all of a sudden, boom, it's over. Hurry up and clean up and pack up and straighten up and tighten up and wake up and go back to work.

My crash was not as much physical as it was emotional. I was already over the edge and heading down when I finally got around to opening the box from Ginger that night. I don't think I've ever cried over dishes before, except maybe some broken ones, but these Christmas Tree Fiesta dishes made me cry. They made me cry because they are perfect. Beautifully perfect in more ways than one.

I don't deserve such a sweet friend. When Ginger and I first met at church, she made an extra special effort to become my friend. We did some Bible study and choir things together, then one day she invited me to her house for lunch. That was a couple of years ago. Since then she has become my weekly prayer partner and scripture memory encourager.

Ginger chose me to be her friend. Ginger knew my heart and made the special effort to fill it. Those are things Jesus would do. Ginger has shown and been Jesus to me.

I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other. John 15:15-17

Friends

This time last week I was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Yes, it was just a passing thing. Today, however, as I reflect back on the days between then and now, I discovered that I have more blessings than I can count. Just this week...

Monday I called Pat to tell her not to come to Bible study that night. I had to cancel it because I was miserably ill. Just a couple of hours later she was on my doorstep with a container of hot homemade soup. I don't think she knows that tomato soup is my ultimate comfort food.

Barbara, as a ministry wife, has and understanding and empathy about things that many others do not. She became aware of a struggle in ministry that Scott and I have been dealing with lately. Actually, she knew what it was before I ever gave her any details about it. Not only did God give her discernment about the situation, He also gave her scripture for it. She called me this week just to share that scripture with me. I don't think she knows what a treasure she is to me because of how she leads me to God's presence.

I got an envelope in the mail that was postmarked from Georgia. I wasn't expecting anything and was curious when it arrived. I opened it up to find a copy of the article about me that was in our local paper a couple of weeks ago along with a handwritten note from Steve that reminded me that my real value comes from what God thinks of me, not anyone else. I don't think Steve realizes what an impact his words have had on my life.

I'm always calling Jimmy for something. Whatever Jimmy attempts, he gives it his all. He's a pilot and a photographer. Sometimes he does both at the same time. That's not his day job, it's just what he does for fun. Our office has contracted him to do some aerial photography before and he always delivers just what we need. This week he sent me an aerial photograph he took of a land project our office has an investment in. The project had been completed and I hadn't had a chance to even think about asking for pictures of it. He took the picture and sent it to me because he knew it was important to us. That's just one of the multitude of things Jimmy's done for me, and for Scott. I don't think I'll ever find the right words to tell him just how much I admire his commitment to excellence and how much we appreciate his friendship.

Several weeks ago Rosalind asked us if we wanted to go to a Passion Play that was to be presented at a nearby church this weekend. She really wanted us to experience it and she got the tickets for us as soon as they were available. Yesterday, six of us loaded up and made our way over there. I know that when she got the tickets, she had no idea how much I would need something like that on that very day. There was just something about seeing a visual depiction of Jesus on his throne that set my heart on eternity and turned my thoughts to the true reason for Easter. Rosalind really made a special effort to get me there and I don't think I expressed adequately how grateful I was to have been blessed in such a way.

These people are my friends. These people help me to be a better person. I am inspired by them. I am amazed by them. I am so thankful for them. I pray that God will bless their lives as much as they have blessed mine.

I was young and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging bread. They are always generous and lend freely; their children will be blessed. Psalm 37:25-26