Wednesday, December 12, 2007


One of my co-workers said tonight, "You are the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met."

I smiled sweetly and thanked her, but inside I'm thinking, "You haven't met many people have you?". That isn't a slam on her, but rather, on myself. See, I know the real me and I don't think I'm very nice at all. I'm mean, sarcastic, feisty and downright nasty. And not just now and then, it is a constant fight within me. I mean, I want to be nice and sweet, well, part of me does. But then again, nice and sweet usually get a person trampled on.

Another co-worker (later on) mentioned that she had found how to donate money to the Woods family (the two daughters were killed at New Life Church on Sunday, their father is in the hospital). She said, "I gave $20. It isn't much, but I figure I don't know them so I won't send flowers, but my heart just broke when I heard what happened and I wanted to do something. It isn't much but it will help a little."

I have no idea if this woman knows Jesus, I don't know if she even thinks about her spiritual journey, but she went out of her way to donate to a family she doesn't know. That is kindness- pure and simple.

As a Christian, I should be kind in word and deed. I should anticipate needs and try to meet them. I should reach out to others and share with them, make their load easier to carry. Yet I often find myself shutting out the world, retreating into my own mean little cave. I hope that Jesus is still working to make the me that others see (that sweet, nice person) the me that I really am. Maybe someday the two will align more correctly. Until then, I'll just have to keep on keeping on, fighting against the meanies.

Leave me a comment and tell me if you struggle with this- or how you learned to be nice... I would love to hear from you!

Saturday, December 8, 2007


Yesterday, Colorado Springs was under a blanket of fog. Not the thick, malevolent sort of fog- more the tired and out of energy kind that gently rests on the landscape. The sort of fog that depletes your desire to have contact with the world and encourages people to stay at home by the fire, that kind of fog.

As I drove to work, I started thinking about fog and about how many of the other drivers on the road had chosen not to turn on their headlights. When there is inclement weather of any sort, even when the day is bright, I turn on my lights as a safety precaution. However, many people fail to do this and in turn, they are endangering not only their own person, but any other person in the area as well.

In a way, I understand why some people don't turn on their lights. They figure, "Hey, it is light enough out to see, so the lights won't help me, so why bother?". Makes sense if the only purpose for headlights is to help the driver see. But that isn't the only function of headlights. They also help other people see YOU. And that idea got me thinking that maybe we are all living in a fog, driving through life and we haven't turned on our headlights. People can't see us coming and we end up with more close calls and frayed nerves than necessary because we failed to flip the switch. Then I thought about the song I used to sing as a child, "This Little Light of Mine" and how it said to not hide your light under a bushel. Sort of the same idea.

We need to turn on our lights, let people know we are out there, draw them to us, help the encounter to be more gentle and safe. I struggle with that. I can be a brash and overwhelming sort of person. I don't mean to be, it just comes out that way. But I can try to be more gentle, not blindside people completely, turn on my lights so they see me coming.

Today, the fog lifted and we were left with a thick blanket of snow. That is a whole n'other topic (and yes, something is needed between the "e" in whole and the "o" in other... sorry Dara!).

Don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think!

Tuesday, November 27, 2007


Have you noticed how addicted our world is to noise? Everywhere you go, people are listening to their mp3 players, music blares over loudspeakers in stores, we turn on the radios in our cars- we can't get enough.

I've been thinking about this for a while and finally feel like I can write about it. Why are we so hooked on having noise around us? What is so wrong with being quiet? I love the quiet, in fact, I thrive on it and need it daily. I can't get enough. But I seem to be the odd one out. Here's what I think: we (and I mean all human beings, especially those living in developed nations) are afraid of silence. We don't want to know what we might find there.

Kinda like the monster under the bed, silence looms just beyond our understanding. We don't want to go there because what if we find out there is nothing? What if we find out there is something and we don't like it. What if we can't handle it? I think these questions keep people plugged in all the time, pumping their heads full of noise so they can't even hear the questions anymore.

But I love silence. I love time to just sit and have my head clear. I like to hear the world- birds singing, wind blowing, animals scurrying through a bed of fallen leaves. And when I am in silence, that is when I hear God. He can talk to us in silence and that is one of the main reasons the enemy keeps us up to our eyeballs in noise.

Recently, I had the privilege to attend a staff retreat with the church. Our pastor planned the morning as a time of mediation, literally, a quiet time. We were given the amazing opportunity to be quiet with God. I took the chance to walk in the woods (the retreat center was in Black Forest) and just listen. I didn't say much to God, I just let Him know I was there and ready to listen. It was a cold day, snow flurries had left a hint of white, and few others ventured outside. I walked for half an hour, sometimes resting on a swing, and just reveled in the blissful absence of hurry and worry and noise.

I'm going to share some of the things God showed me on that day, as well as the things He is still showing me, here on this new blog. I hope you will come with me and see. I hope you will share what you are learning as well. And mostly, I hope this is a place for quiet reflection. I encourage you to carve out a few moments of silence for yourself today- I know it will do you worlds of good.