I've been feeling less than inspired lately. And when I feel uninspired, I always go back and re-read old articles in this blog. Sometimes I can't believe how smart I used to be. And occasionally I feel like I've definitely done some serious backsliding in my relationship with God. I feel like I've been calling more and more on myself, and less and less on him.
So, sometimes it helps me to remind myself of all of the wise thoughts I've had in the past. I figured I'd to back and find "the best of" in the last 4 or so years of this blog. Some are thoughtful. Some clever. Some just silly. But these are some of my favorites. Maybe you will enjoy them.
The Procrastination Station
The one that started it all.
I Got Used to Sweatpants
The one about sweatpants.
The Jesus I Serve
The one where I don't get to define Jesus.
This Stupid, Stupid Wind
The one where I have a bad day.
I Have Hidden Your Word in My Heart, And I Misplaced it
The one where I begrudgingly relate to David.
Love Letters
The one that's a total metaphor about God's word.
Never, Ever, Ever Give Up
The one where I accomplished my [then] life's goal.
My Hero
The one about heroes.
New Years Resolutions
The one about not making excuses.
Mr. Orkin: Man of My Dreams
The one about my future husband.
Of a Rather Pressing Note
The one where I tell Scott Toilet Tissue what is what.
When I Start to Miss Michigan
The one where I realize I can be happy in Oklahoma as long as I'm trusting God.
A Serious Addiction
The one where I confess my undying love for Rocky Balboa
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Living in the Past
I have a really good memory.
I have a really good memory when it comes to things that happened a long time ago, that is. Memories, for me, are most often triggered by smells. After familiar smells come memories of touch. If something feels familiar it will most likely trigger a memory. The third trigger is taste--although I have a hard time specifically placing familiar tastes to specific foods or items. I place the taste with the event to which it belongs. The last two senses (sight and sound) least often trigger memories, but neither dominates the other.
I have a lot of really really good memories. And I tend to just bask in them quite often because they make me feel good. I don't tend to express emotion very often (unless I'm watching The Biggest Loser....go figure!), and aside from perpetual cheerfulness the only other side people really get to see me express is what I would call "flustered." Pretty much I'm either always excited, or occasionally flustered. With certain exceptions I'm rarely sad, angry, moody, etc.
I think the reason I tend to live so much in my memories is because when I'm remembering them, they tend to make me feel. They tend to make me feel when real life just doesn't.
This morning I was out pulling weeds in my side yard. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, even though it was only about 65 degrees. It was cloudy, thunder was faintly rumbling in the distance, and a little sprinkle would hit me every now and again. And it all seemed very familiar. I could hear the drops trickling through the leaves in the trees, and a bird squawking about something or other. Something about this seemed very familiar. It reminded me of when my family would go camping every summer in Indiana.
We'd wake up in the morning, and it would be cool, crisp, and a little damp from the morning's dew. A bird or two would be chatting, but other than that it was pretty quiet. It was cool enough that it wouldn't be crazy to wear pants until it warmed up; but since it was summer, we usually just wore shorts. Our cousins were just a campsite or two over, and we'd join up at grandma's campsite for breakfast. We'd go back to our campsite and grab our slightly damp swimsuits off the clothesline and put them on because, surely, within the next few hours we'd be headed for the lake to go swimming and make sandcastles. Then, in a little while, maybe we'd hop on our bikes and ride over to the one random set of cousins who somehow managed to get a site all the way on the other side of the park (it seemed to be a different set every year). Those days we just played. We were outside, rain or shine, together, and I never remember being bored.
Days like this don't happen very often in Oklahoma. And I am so grateful when they do. A cloudy, cool, day spattered with raindrops and thunder can be good for everybody once in a while.
I've always liked the rain. And I especially like it in Oklahoma because (this week aside) it doesn't come terribly often. But when it comes it reminds me that God does provide. And he knows what this land needs. And he knows what I need. And, even when it seems bothersome or doesn't make sense, his timing is everything.
I have a really good memory when it comes to things that happened a long time ago, that is. Memories, for me, are most often triggered by smells. After familiar smells come memories of touch. If something feels familiar it will most likely trigger a memory. The third trigger is taste--although I have a hard time specifically placing familiar tastes to specific foods or items. I place the taste with the event to which it belongs. The last two senses (sight and sound) least often trigger memories, but neither dominates the other.
I have a lot of really really good memories. And I tend to just bask in them quite often because they make me feel good. I don't tend to express emotion very often (unless I'm watching The Biggest Loser....go figure!), and aside from perpetual cheerfulness the only other side people really get to see me express is what I would call "flustered." Pretty much I'm either always excited, or occasionally flustered. With certain exceptions I'm rarely sad, angry, moody, etc.
I think the reason I tend to live so much in my memories is because when I'm remembering them, they tend to make me feel. They tend to make me feel when real life just doesn't.
This morning I was out pulling weeds in my side yard. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, even though it was only about 65 degrees. It was cloudy, thunder was faintly rumbling in the distance, and a little sprinkle would hit me every now and again. And it all seemed very familiar. I could hear the drops trickling through the leaves in the trees, and a bird squawking about something or other. Something about this seemed very familiar. It reminded me of when my family would go camping every summer in Indiana.
We'd wake up in the morning, and it would be cool, crisp, and a little damp from the morning's dew. A bird or two would be chatting, but other than that it was pretty quiet. It was cool enough that it wouldn't be crazy to wear pants until it warmed up; but since it was summer, we usually just wore shorts. Our cousins were just a campsite or two over, and we'd join up at grandma's campsite for breakfast. We'd go back to our campsite and grab our slightly damp swimsuits off the clothesline and put them on because, surely, within the next few hours we'd be headed for the lake to go swimming and make sandcastles. Then, in a little while, maybe we'd hop on our bikes and ride over to the one random set of cousins who somehow managed to get a site all the way on the other side of the park (it seemed to be a different set every year). Those days we just played. We were outside, rain or shine, together, and I never remember being bored.
Days like this don't happen very often in Oklahoma. And I am so grateful when they do. A cloudy, cool, day spattered with raindrops and thunder can be good for everybody once in a while.
I've always liked the rain. And I especially like it in Oklahoma because (this week aside) it doesn't come terribly often. But when it comes it reminds me that God does provide. And he knows what this land needs. And he knows what I need. And, even when it seems bothersome or doesn't make sense, his timing is everything.
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