I was asked to talk to a stranger at the Dairy Queen

Last night I had some time to gallivant around the countryside, but since it was approximately 12904 degrees outside I decided to gallivant around the Gap and its air conditioning instead. Grandma gave me a gift card last month, so I had motive. Anyway, I found an armful of clothes to try on and headed into the fitting room thinking the choice of which stuff to buy would be a hard decision. I don't want to get too over-dramatic here, but disaster ensued. The armholes of the shirts were too low, one dress highlighted my unwavering adoration for fried potatoes and chocolate chip cookies and snacks before bedtime (shout-out to my fave, chocolate milk and dry Cheerios!), the other dress grabbed me in such a way that it looked like one could serve salsa from my cavernous belly button, and the shorts were...well, they were passable, but I wasn't thrilled about them. I like my clothes to thrill me. Summary of paragraph: I exited the Gap feeling a little bit blue.

I had accidentally parked far from the store, so I started my mope back to the car. I passed by the Dairy Queen and noticed an elderly woman sitting alone with her ice cream sundae. I kept walking, and the Holy Spirit told me to go back and talk to her. I reminded the Holy Spirit of the current temperature and that it was getting late and that I felt tired. I generally just whined internally. The Holy Spirit told me to go back and talk to her. I told the Holy Spirit that I was already five stores away from her and the people behind me would think I'm weird if I did a sudden about face. The Holy Spirit told me to go back and talk to her. I actually rolled my eyes and sighed because sometimes I act like a third grader, and then I finally turned around. 

I smiled at the woman as I approached, and I asked her if I could join her on the bench. "Can you get me some napkins first?" she asked, gesturing inside the DQ. I grabbed some for her, then sat and briefly considered if the Lord just sent me there to save her from sticky hands. I mean, sticky hands are the worst. But that probably wasn't it.

"How are you this evening?" I asked, my heart racing. Talking to strangers isn't my forte. Luckily that was all she needed. I learned that my stranger turned 83 last month. She had raised five kids and worked the whole time too. She has nine grandkids, and 14 great-grandkids. She had lived in Anza since the 70s but moved to Lake Elsinore last week because she had a heart attack and almost died three weeks ago. She went to sleep feeling fine one night, then woke up from a phone call from a friend and discovered she was unable to get out of bed. He stayed on the phone with her until the ambulance came. She lives with a granddaughter now who is an RN. She believes in God and goes to a Bible study each week and was amused when I told her why I was sitting there. She has a son in Germany who wasn't able to come to her last birthday party, but she didn't sound bitter about that, it was just a fact. She got a call on her flip phone (flip phone!) while we sat, and she talked briefly with her daughter in Colorado and when they ended the conversation she said "I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, dear. I love you." She just said that like it was something she says every day, which she probably does. 

We shook hands before I left, and she told me her name was Donna. I left our conversation feeling cheerful and energized for the walk back to the car. My attitude had completely flipped. Worrying about my belly and clothes and me-me-me suddenly seemed ridiculous. I had gone into that encounter wondering what God wanted me to do for Donna, but it turned out God wanted to bless me instead. BOOM. Awesome.

In conclusion, listen to the Holy Spirit* - every time I do, neat things happen. But maybe try complying without rolling your eyes and sighing first.  





*If you don't know who the heck the Holy Spirit is, or if you think this post makes me sound crazy, let me know and we can talk about it or email about it or carrier pigeon about it if you have one that we can both use. 

Where I Am

I am in Hanna's living room, softly lit, harmonizing Christmas hymns of hope feeling eternally knit to my neighbors surrounding me, lifting their voices into that vaulted ceiling alongside the trill of Stephen's piano notes. 


I am sitting on the floor of a candle lit chapel in Tennessee, squeezing my bisep up against a tattooed, overweight, knife carrying creature of God's making who sheds tears for lives that have been taken and his own life that is being taken up in redemption. 


I am swaying in the breeze that whips around me from every direction, elevated on a slim walking bridge over a canyon, huddled next to friends who become like kin as Jeff strikes chords and all but my soul falls silent. 


I am splayed out on my back on top of a picnic table, disregarding the dust from the grapefruit orchards that swell around me or the frizz of my hair that grows bushier upon my head and I know, perhaps for the first time in my life, that the Spirit is present in the vocal intonations that fill the open air of this hot, humid night. 


I am in Elise's stark, sterile hospital room, half of one of three clumps that are married-One's clinging to each other in the awkwardness that is staring a terrifying moment in the face, holding each other as tightly as we hold our breath, hoping that little Henry will find his and breath on his own, but in praying, learning that truth is God working through history, through doctors, through technicians, through the very machines that sustain his premature life, that even too soon gives him breath. 


I am at the top of the Nadlers' driveway, with cool air whirling around my body, brushing my face with my long hair - "I have never seen the wind, but I have seen the effects of the wind" - as fear falls from me like scales from my eyes I know my weakness is acceptable in light of His strength and in the hand that is His Sabbath rest. 


I am the place where He makes me know that I Am.

It's All in God's Timing - The Tale of a Cliche Come to Life

Once upon a time, I enrolled in the Master of Arts in Screenwriting program at Regent University. I receive tuition remission, so we would only have to pay taxes on a degree that would help me come closer to my goal of writing for a living. I worked full time and planned to take a full load of classes, so I felt nervous about the amount of busting my butt that would happen, but even more, I felt excited to stretch my creativity muscles.


On the first day of class, I made an effort to contribute to the classroom conversation (so not my thing). The professor was awesome, as were my fellow classmates, and the class whizzed by quickly. However, at the end of the class, I felt completely unsettled. Something in me was telling me to quit, this wasn't the time, I shouldn't be in the program, I needed to withdraw, withdraw, withdraw. 


I. was. crushed.

I felt like this post needed a picture, so here is me looking upset. In 2009.
Okay, I really just wanted to post a picture of myself looking thin and tan.
Vanity in a post about God!

I had worked hard to assemble all the admissions materials to get into the program. I had rearranged my work schedule. I had told many people about this new endeavor. I had thought that this was going to give me a bigger sense of purpose in Virginia. I had even purchased a brand new computer. But I could not ignore the intense feeling that I needed to stop immediately. (Spoiler alert: That "feeling" was actually the Big Guy - the Holy Spirit itself, speaking in a freaking loud voice instead of a still small one.) 


Fast forward to a couple of months later when my husband knocked me up. What?! If I had remained in the graduate program, I would have finished my first semester and then had to quit, thus losing a lot of time and money. I would have been even more heartbroken to have to end something into which I'd invested a difficult semester's worth of energy. And I would have been heartbroken while pregnant, which would have compounded the disappointment because of all the crazy hormones. 


I don't know if you're a believer, Lobster, but I sure am. God's timing has blown my mind many times, and this is a prime example. Anyone else have a good example? Either leave it in the comments or send it to us as a guest post - we'd love to share it with everyone in internet land.