I feel like it has been eons since my last blog entry...time is funny like that, isn't it? I get busy and suddenly it's been nearly four weeks since I've posted!
Though the busyness of my life as of late has been simply lovely. Not only did my parents get to spend a week with me in TX over my birthday, but I was able to fly back with my mom to enjoy some time in NC.
Coming home for the first time in over a year with the newest addition to our family has been perfect. Beckett got to meet his Great Granny Sue for the first time and Blake has been loving our daily nature walks. Home is truly the best place to be.
But...enough with the updates. Let me paint you a picture of this glorious place I call home: Mitchell County, North Carolina.
Some places you experience with your entire body. You're not simply...there. You become apart of it...and it, in turn, becomes a part of you. The mountains are like that. When I'm here I feel like my body physically responds. I feel like my heart slows down to the perfectly relaxed pace of this place. My accent suddenly becomes a little thicker. I actually used the word "holler" (as in a hollow, not as in yelling) in a sentence the other day...and I liked it. I find myself yearning to churn some apple butter and go berry picking. And I can't help but hear Nickel Creek playing in the back of my mind as I stand in awe of how beautiful this land is. Something about blue grass music and the Blue Ridge Mountains just go together. If in NYC my heart beats to the rhythm of a socialite's stilettos, then at home it beats in time with the fiddler at a square dance on Saturday night.
The oldest mountain chain in the world is something quite wonderful to behold. The way the mountains fold gently into each other. The way the fog nestles in the valley in the morning. The way the light hits the mountains at sunset making giant shadows across the fields. I stood on the top of Roan Mountain on Saturday morning with mountains as far as I could see and I suddenly felt the impulse to pray. Afterall, God seems so much closer up there, surely my prayers would reach his ears first. No, but seriously, I felt the strong need to thank Him for this beautiful place that He created.
The beauty of the mountains is only accentuated by the kindness of the people that inhabit them. When we first moved here I found myself frequently frustrated by little old men in their pick-up trucks that would stop in the middle of the road to chat. Not at a stop light, not at a stop sign, just right smack dab in the middle of the road. One would be going one way and one the other and they would slow down and roll down their windows and chat...for several minutes. Somehow we always seemed to be stuck behind them. I asked my dad one time, "What in the world is so important that we have to wait for four minutes while they chat?" He told me they probably weren't talking about anything important, it was just part of the culture here. I eventually got used to waiting for little old men in their pick-ups chatting about their tobacco crop or the weather or whatever it was. I got used to people waving and smiling at anyone that passed by. I got used to the cashier in the checkout line asking questions that sometimes crossed personal boundaries. I got used to it. It has only been in leaving this place and returning to it that I have begun to appreciate it. I appreciate that people always have time to chat with each other, even though it may be about nothing in particular. I appreciate that neighbors always have time to lend a hand. I appreciate the conversations in the check out line that may add a few measly minutes onto my busy day. I appreciate the beauty of these mountains that strike me so much more coming home than when I actually lived here.
I appreciate that no matter how long I am gone I come back to find that nothing has changed. With so few things you can count on in this world it's nice to be able to count on my home.
The mountains are a part of me now. They have influenced so much in my life. One of my favorite bible verses is: "I lift my eyes up to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." Psalm 121
It reminds me of my mountains. And it makes me smile with the knowledge that even though I may currently live far away....I always have this to come home to.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Are you content with where you Went?
You know how Dove chocolates have those little philosophical sayings inside the wrapper? You get to enjoy a little something sweet while reflecting on something deep and meaningful....or you're like me and you crumple the wrapper up before remembering that you were supposed to read it and then you spend five minutes flattening it back out only to find that this deep, meaningful message wasn't so meaningful after all.
Anyways, apparently beer bottle caps are following suit. I just opened a bottle of my magic hat summer seasonal to read, "Are you content with where you Went?" (Yes, they capitalized the W on Went.) This caught my attention.
I'm not sure if it was the erroneously capitalized W or the lack of explanation in the question itself, but for whatever reason, I stood there, by the trashcan, staring at the bottle cap in my hand for a good four minutes before tossing it in. Went where? Why the capital W? Did they capitalize it arbitrarily to make me do a double-take? If so, kudos to them. It worked.
But then I started thinking of the ways to complete that question...and then many other questions began to enter my mind, all focused around one primary question - Are you content?
We spend so much time and energy focused on that question don't we? I can't check out at the grocery store without passing by O magazine exclaiming that it holds the new key to happiness. The key to being self content. The key to inner peace and endless joy. Turn on the Today show any morning of the week and some author will be touting their new book on how to find true contentment in life.
Am I content?
Yes. I am tired. I feel a little alone during the week (sigh), but I am content. I have peace. I have joy. I am trying to ignore the exhaustion this phase of my life brings and savor all the little moments with my babies. I count my blessings every day.
What is my secret? What is the key to my personal joy?
Here's my Sunday school answer: Jesus.
(Not the one that pooped on the girl in the outhouse....read my previous blog post if you are confused.)
Jesus. Such a simple answer with such complexity underneath. There is complexity to ones' personal relationship with Christ. There are things that words seem desperately inadequate to describe. Maybe that's why you don't often see Christians on the magazine covers or the tv shows letting everyone in on our little secret. We know where true joy is found! We experience the peace that only complete and utter submission to our Savior can bring!
Why aren't we sharing it?
I have felt the conviction of this question lately, as it is currently the sermon series at my church: SHARE. I have had, oh so many, countless opportunities to share my faith. On some occasions I have done so. But many I let pass me by for fear of sounding like those radical evangelicals that spout out scripture on TV but seem incapable of having a rational intellectual discussion.
But, then again, is the love of Christ rational? No. It is radical. How can I take the radical love of my Savior and reach those who prefer for things to be rational.
That is the challenge I faced the most in grad school at NYU. That's the problem with the academic elite. Intellectuals ask questions....lots of questions. Whenever I have taken the plunge and been brave enough to engage one of my non-believing friends in a religious discussion I have always walked away from it wishing I had been better equipped for the "debate." I would make one remark and suddenly would be bombarded with questions from everyone remotely close by....or at least, that's what it felt like. After a while I realized it would be much easier to just smile and nod when someone said something I disagreed with. I realized that...but those who know me, know that's not in my nature. It made for lots of interesting discussion, to put it mildly. I would often replay those discussions for months afterward wondering what I could've said differently, or searching the scripture to find that allusive verse I couldn't recall at the time. I can only hope that our talk may have planted a seed.
I pray that God will put the right people in my path and open my eyes to new opportunities to share the reason behind my joy.
Are you content?
Anyways, apparently beer bottle caps are following suit. I just opened a bottle of my magic hat summer seasonal to read, "Are you content with where you Went?" (Yes, they capitalized the W on Went.) This caught my attention.
I'm not sure if it was the erroneously capitalized W or the lack of explanation in the question itself, but for whatever reason, I stood there, by the trashcan, staring at the bottle cap in my hand for a good four minutes before tossing it in. Went where? Why the capital W? Did they capitalize it arbitrarily to make me do a double-take? If so, kudos to them. It worked.
But then I started thinking of the ways to complete that question...and then many other questions began to enter my mind, all focused around one primary question - Are you content?
We spend so much time and energy focused on that question don't we? I can't check out at the grocery store without passing by O magazine exclaiming that it holds the new key to happiness. The key to being self content. The key to inner peace and endless joy. Turn on the Today show any morning of the week and some author will be touting their new book on how to find true contentment in life.
Am I content?
Yes. I am tired. I feel a little alone during the week (sigh), but I am content. I have peace. I have joy. I am trying to ignore the exhaustion this phase of my life brings and savor all the little moments with my babies. I count my blessings every day.
What is my secret? What is the key to my personal joy?
Here's my Sunday school answer: Jesus.
(Not the one that pooped on the girl in the outhouse....read my previous blog post if you are confused.)
Jesus. Such a simple answer with such complexity underneath. There is complexity to ones' personal relationship with Christ. There are things that words seem desperately inadequate to describe. Maybe that's why you don't often see Christians on the magazine covers or the tv shows letting everyone in on our little secret. We know where true joy is found! We experience the peace that only complete and utter submission to our Savior can bring!
Why aren't we sharing it?
I have felt the conviction of this question lately, as it is currently the sermon series at my church: SHARE. I have had, oh so many, countless opportunities to share my faith. On some occasions I have done so. But many I let pass me by for fear of sounding like those radical evangelicals that spout out scripture on TV but seem incapable of having a rational intellectual discussion.
But, then again, is the love of Christ rational? No. It is radical. How can I take the radical love of my Savior and reach those who prefer for things to be rational.
That is the challenge I faced the most in grad school at NYU. That's the problem with the academic elite. Intellectuals ask questions....lots of questions. Whenever I have taken the plunge and been brave enough to engage one of my non-believing friends in a religious discussion I have always walked away from it wishing I had been better equipped for the "debate." I would make one remark and suddenly would be bombarded with questions from everyone remotely close by....or at least, that's what it felt like. After a while I realized it would be much easier to just smile and nod when someone said something I disagreed with. I realized that...but those who know me, know that's not in my nature. It made for lots of interesting discussion, to put it mildly. I would often replay those discussions for months afterward wondering what I could've said differently, or searching the scripture to find that allusive verse I couldn't recall at the time. I can only hope that our talk may have planted a seed.
I pray that God will put the right people in my path and open my eyes to new opportunities to share the reason behind my joy.
Are you content?
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