Severed at the waist

I shouldn't have a problem sitting here writing. The blinking cursor should be a sort of rhythm, not a intrusive drumming or beating in the frontal lobe of my brain.

Perhaps it has something to do with being stuck inside for nearly forty-eight hours this weekend, but sitting behind a desk for forty hours this week does not sound pleasurable whatsoever. I should take advantage of this opportunity, of this job, of this situation I've been blessed with and write my fingers off; edit old pieces and create new ones. But in this moment, I feel like a pinworm has buried itself at the base of my spine and I just can't settle. Not that I'm in pain, or feeling physical pings of trouble, but more restlessness than anything.

I remember learning about pinworms, flatworms and tapeworms in Mrs. Weatherford's high school biology class. To this day she remains one of the toughest teachers I ever had, but I probably learned more from her than any other teacher. She gave insanely intense lectures and thorough notes. She would deduct points on tests for misspelled words and not underlining species scientific names and not knowing the Latin name for certain plants. She was hard. She gave oral tests- leaving no one any time to dilly-dally and come up with some nonsense answer. You either knew it, or you didn't.

I wondered then if I'd ever encounter such disturbing parasitic creatures. Only metaphorically I guess- those people and experiences that suck the life out of me. Often I'm able to brace myself for what I know might be a tough conversation or an hour long meeting that leaves me limp and deflated, but sometimes those things come out of nowhere.

And sometimes it's just regular business - too much stuff- that beats me down. Looking at the calendar ahead and how each day has something written on it from now until practically Thanksgiving make me nervous. I know I'm not supposed to look that far ahead. I know I'm not supposed to think about any and everything I have going on in the next 10-20 days, but, really, it's alot.

Recently, I've been faced with the reality that I'm going to have to shave down my schedule some. To prioritize. To figure out what matters most and what matters to me most, right now where I am; what I need to be pouring myself into and what I really, want to be doing. What do I want to do?

People, intentionally or not, can pull you into a million different directions until you shatter- into a million little pieces. And there will always be something: a party, a wedding, a shower, a get-together where someone will be in town that you just have to see. There will be friends moving away, doctors appointments, shopping lists, illnesses, times I forget to mail the rent check or buy more toothpaste.

Today as I walked to work, in the sunshine, I felt frumpy and very thirty-one in my sisters old clothes. Everyone else looked well put together and refreshed. Like they were all anticipating the coming fall and couldn't wait to button their winter white corduroys around their tanned summer waists and put their arms through the sleeves of their deep navy blazers. The jacket with that big, brown tortoise button that pulls the entire outfit together right at the navel. I'm afraid mine won't fit.

Confidence in each step, they glide down the sidewalk- like the only thing on their agenda for the week is somehow squeezing in brunch on Saturday in-between spin class, yoga and a standing pedicure appointment at Diva Nail Salon.

I know this next season of my life, as a minister's wife, is going to be different. Better. New. And I'll be in positions I've never been in before. But, I'm truly believing that if I hold on and seek wise council, that I'll experience great growth. That I'll be able to do things I've never thought possible and see myself, if only for a brief moment, through those God glasses that don't register incompatibilities or impossibilities. I think, that I'll really like what I'm going to be doing- because I've been called and equipped to do it. Regardless of how I see myself, label myself or feel about myself day-to-day. God says I'm able.

I, therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, urge you to walk worthy of the calling you have received, with all humilityand gentleness, with patience, accepting one another in love, diligently keeping the unity of the Spirit with the peace that binds [us]. There is one body and one Spirit,just as you were called to one hope at your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. Eph. 4:1-6

I know what I see in other people, is not really who they are. They are as insecure as I am, about something, on some level. They have bad days too. I'm just grateful that God uses me in spite of my doubt. When I feel like there's no way I can lead a bunch of thirteen year-old girls who worry about fitting into a certain size, when I still worry about the very same thing on some days myself.

Surviving the Storm

Why does being inside for 48 hours completely drain me? I feel lethargic and completely lazy. Doing nothing makes me want to do nothing.

As you've already heard, we survived Hurricane Irene. Unfortunately, she arrived on Saturday, and ruined a perfectly good weekend. No work was missed, but our church services were canceled Sunday morning.

The roughest part, the part that was felt across the city, was the fact that there was no public transportation running from Saturday at noon until 6:00AM Monday morning. So, even on Saturday morning, when we were sure that this thing was over for the most part, I couldn't go anywhere even if I wanted to. And if I did actually walk, or bike somewhere, nothing was open... because (again) subways and buses were not running. Ritz Diner, the 24 hour restaurant across the street from our apartment never closed. I think it was the only place open for blocks.

Gifted with all this time, I pretty much did a whole lotta nothing, but this is how I did fill the hours:

1. Saturday morning I washed three loads of laundry in our buildings new laundry facility. It uses these fancy cards (instead of quarters) that you can reload at a machine in the laundry room. Evidently, I wasn't the only one with this idea, but it wasn't too crowded. Plus, I had nothing but time.

2. I washed an entire dishwasher full of dishes. (Okay the dishwasher did the washing.) But, I had to to the drying and the putting away. The "dry" function on this brand new dishwasher seems to be, mediocre at best. Nothing is really ever all that dry.

3. I made a tomato/ basil salad with olive oil and vinegar. I made squash and zucchini and onion. I made a cake. I "cooked" a peach which I sprinkled with cinnamon and ate with a dollop of Fage. I made omelets and grill cheese sandwiches and Vienna sausages. (Here's the deal, what's a hurricane without Vienna sausages?)

I was one of the crazies in the supermarket on Friday evening. I didn't buy all that much, just a few cans of soup, canned peaches, a gallon of water (which was nearly impossible to find) nuts, crackers and yes, by request from Chris- Vienna sausages. I opted for sardines and tuna myself.

4. I read some Anne Lamotte- Traveling Mercies, I started Beth Moore's So Long Insecurity, I journaled. I watched several episodes of Scrubs and entertained a house guest for twenty-four hours. (She lives alone and wanted to "hunker down" at our place.) I napped and went out for a couple walks and went to the East River Promenade just to see how high the river was. It was rushing along, moving swiftly toward the Atlantic.

...

I felt supported and loved and prayed for. I got texts and emails and phone calls from Texas from people just checking on us and touching base. I'm thankful that we never lost power, we didn't experience any flooding and nothing was damaged or harmed. The howling winds and tree branches beating on our windows kept me awake until at 2:00AM. And after that I was up most every hour. But we were safe.

Now I can add earthquake and hurricane to my list of natural disasters.

Shake Rattle and Roll

In one weeks time I will have experienced my first earthquake, my first MRI and my first New York City hurricane. Because my nerves really haven't had enough yet!

I was one of the people who felt the jolt that rocked the city on Tuesday. Sitting nineteen stories above the earth and one block West of Grand Central Station we swayed and shook for about thirty seconds or so. That was enough for me. My initial thought was, not unlike many others I've talked to since, that I was loosing my mind. Or for me, having a horrible anxiety attack.

My co-worker had just returned from lunch and was putting her things away in the pantry, so I was alone in the reception area. I answered the phone and put the caller on hold- thinking, something is so wrong here. Then, I stood up, in a effort to find some stability (little did I know...) and grabbed onto the desk. I then noticed the ficus tree swaying and thought, "If I'm the only one experiencing this, something is not right with me."

I pushed open the door that leads to the back offices. I prayed that I wouldn't find sixty people sitting calmly at their cubicles and in their glass-walled offices typing normally, earbuds on, chomping on trail-mix. And I didn't.

People were standing, startled, proclaiming things like, "Did you feel that?" "What was that?" "What just happened?" Turns out, I'm not loosing my mind after all!

Several of us grabbed our belongings and bolted (on the elevator, obviously!) Even then, we all knew, as someone yelled, "women and children first"- that the elevator was not the correct way out of the building if we suspected a bomb or attack to the building itself or an earthquake even. But in my mind I thought: "I'm with Heidi (the other receptionist, who has become a dear friend) and I'm with this guy and that guy and this guy and they have spouses and children and are great people. So, if we all die in this elevator, then, well, we all die. At least I'm with people I like."

On42nd Street people were everywhere on the sidewalks. I realized I didn't have my cell phone, which was the reason I was one of the first ten or so people to go back into the office about fifteen minutes later.

The day resumed as usual. Some people in our offices and on other floors didn't even feel the need to evacuate the building. Me personally, I just wanted to know if it was an explosion three blocks away, or just our building or if it was indeed an earthquake.

For a few hours afterward I still felt nauseous, like I'd just gotten off of a boat, or tried to stand on a waterbed.

All this episode did (and all the upcoming hurricane evokes for me) is how helpless we are in NYC against natural disaster and other attacks as well. We are 2.6 million people living on 23 square miles, that's 71,000 people per square mile. And this does not include the people who commute here from all the other boroughs and New Jersey to work five days a week. SO- we are millions of people on an island built on trash which is pretty much hollow underneath; subway lines and caverns of train rails coming and going all over the North East.

Not the safest of options.

But, I survived shake of the earthquake, which was really nothing compared to the 25 minutes spent rattling inside the tiny tube of the MRI machine. Holy Moly. It's not a pleasant experience: cold, tight, loud, obnoxious, you don't know what to expect. But again, I made it through. (Even though the little tech guy was not satisfied with my answer to the questions: Could you be pregnant? (?? mmm) Are you experiencing a delayed period? (mmm, yes) What was the date of your last period? (March, 2010)

As the large camera helmet was strapped on my head I just prayed, "God please protect my unborn child if I am pregnant..." And please don't let me go into panic mode in this coffin-like box I'm in. I'm safe. I'm not trapped. You're closer than my very breath.... Exhale.

So, now I'm preparing, if only mentally, for a hurricane.

Locally Grown

Monday at the farmers market I bought the heaviest head of cabbage I could find- because they were $2.50 a head, so obviously I wanted the biggest bang for my buck. For $5.00 I got cabbage, one yellow neck squash, one zucchini and the strongest onion I've ever smelled. I only realized this when I was sitting at my doctor's office at 5:15 thinking, "someone has the worst BO..." I had to tow all this produce up and down the East side of New York until I finally got home at 7:00pm.

We've been eating cabbage all week. To the stockpot filled with my market finds I added the remainder of the bags of edamame and English peas that were taking up space in the freezer and poured in a can of roasted, diced tomatoes. Then to that garlic, black pepper, salt, cayenne pepper and chili powder. Later, to half of it I added some barley and turkey kielbasa to make more substantial meals for the mister- and lots more cayenne pepper to Chris's too! It's not spicy enough until beads of sweat are popping up on his brow and he's having to blow his nose.

...

I love the market this time of year, even though I haven't bought any raspberries, strawberries or plums yet. I know now that I prefer the yellow peach to the white, and nectarines over peaches all together and that I don't want the summer to by though without purchasing a huge Jersey tomato or a pint of those colorful heirlooms.

Just walking through there during my lunch hour- even if it's just to buy a single apple and sample some goat cheese and cantaloupe makes me feel centered again. It's the same thing I experience after bumping into an old friend, or hearing a song that reminds me of high school, or reading a passage in an Anne Lamotte book and thinking, "I've so thought that." It something to do with feeling connected- to earth and God and other people too.

When I got on the 4 train Monday, the entire car smelled of basil. It was such a pleasant surprise and left me feeling clean and relaxed. Two people on the other end of the car each held huge stems of basil, with the roots still in tact. I could see the dirt covered roots through plastic shopping bags they'd wrapped around them and wondered if they were going to replant these entire bushes of basil, or if they were going to sink the plants deep into jars of water just to keep them fresh for several days.

So all this tomato and basil got me thinking and today I got an email from my fellow homesick Texan and after we finish our vat of cabbage I think I'll be making some tomato basil salad with balsamic vinegar and olive oil.. mmm! I do love some room temperature tomatoes though-- and nectarines too. Warm and ripe and as it should be- closest to the source from which it was picked.

...

Speaking of wonderful things from the garden Chris and I received a box of canned goodies from my mom's garden: three jars of homemade salsa, two jars of pickles and a jar of jam! It's been a week and I've almost single-handedly consumed a jar of salsa. And those bread and butter pickles remind me of my great-grandmother. Delicious!

I'm so grateful for a mom who'll send me these wonderful things across the country. AND she also sent a box bubbling over with glittery sundresses, work appropriate tops, play clothes and the cutest shoes. Granted, these are things that my mom nor my two sisters wanted--- but still- my style and body shape are much different than theirs so this approach has worked for most of our lives: we shop in each others closest on a regular basis. Normally, their unwanted or bad fitting clothes suit me just fine. These are little things, but make me feel a part, remembered, loved- even though I haven't been home since Thanksgiving. They are woven into the tapestry of who I am- my character. Family and country and growing things and simply pleasures.

...

I know it's not that I'll never have garden of my own, or a backyard of my own, or a two bedroom home of my own, or a child of my own... but God's showing me that those are just circumstantial. The more I seek Him the more my will becomes His will. His story is a more important one than what I think mine should be.

There are things I thought I could never do- and I'm doing them. There are things I thought I couldn't live without- and I'm alive. There are things I though that I'd have to control, monitor and be obsessive about throughout my life, or I wouldn't be happy- and I've let them go.

He who lives under the protection of the Most High, dwells in the shadow of the Almighty.

Ps. 91:1

Rain, thieves and new growth

Good Monday morning. It's a new week and we're half way through August already. It's payday. And here in the Northeast it has been raining for twenty-four hours straight. Gutters are bubbling over, small branches are scattered all along the sidewalks and transportation is a nightmare. Rain is in the forecast for the next week!

Of course, I haven't had to get on the subway all weekend so I'm grateful that I've been able to avoid the mighty rivers that rush down subway stairs and the pools of water that stand for days underground.

I was disappointed in my neighbors and fellow human beings this morning when I discovered my umbrella had been taken from outside the front door or our apartment. There are about fifteen other apartments on our floor and others had left out their umbrellas to dry out as well. I had intended to bring my umbrella in after I finished the laundry, but I forgot. Then, this morning, when heading out ... well, it wasn't there. I'd like to think better of my building tenants.

Even though this technically is my fault and not a big deal in the scope of eternity- it's the sort of thing that makes me want to think ill of this person. I want to curse the thief and wish all sort of bad things for them. I know I'm not supposed to, even if it were a big deal. I just don't like thieves. Or liars.

Luckily, I caught the first break in the downpour on my commute in and didn't even need to open my umbrella. (My second string, crappier umbrella....) This didn't keep my from wearing my new galoshes into work, though. My mom brought me these from Texas the last time she came to visit. They are pretty bold.

Then, I got to my office this morning and my begonia looked like this. Isn't this terribly sad? It's not too dry and it's not droopy because of root rot. I did forget to leave it in the widow-sill this weekend, but there really wasn't all that much sunshine to be had.

Dying house plants depress me. But, I think all is not lost here though. I think that the larger leaves are wilting and the little plant is putting more energy into new growth. I re-potted the plant about three weeks ago - which gave it more room and rich soil and now there are tiny buds coming out at the base of the stem and new shoots popping up through the soil. I'm hopeful.

...

Over the weekend, which started at 1:00pm on Friday for me, I did get in two more bike rides and had the luxury of treating myself to one last pedicure for the summer. Friday afternoon I rode my bike around the Central Park loop and Saturday back down Park Avenue again. In spite of the traffic and noise and exhaust fumes, I'm really not that alarmed or frightened to ride my bike in the city. I think it has something to do with riding on the back of a motorcycle for so long.

In a way, I'm used to being up close and personal with bumpers and parked cars and vehicles that don't obey traffic signs or state enforced rules of driving. I'm cautious, assuming no one can see me, and thinking how that most drivers in NYC, really probably do hate bicyclers. But I'm not scared.

Working for the Weekend

It's only Tuesday, and I'm already wanting to get in my rubber life boat and sail ashore. I want out before this ship starts to sink. Leaving me doggy paddling before I sink from exhaustion. I'm not sure why, we are in the middle of the dog days of summer and things are very slow, but at work is not where I'd like to be.

This past weekend was one of the nicest in a long, long time. Chris and I spent the entire day together Saturday. And while I wouldn't want to spend each Saturday together, all day, this one was exceptionally nice. (Especially since last weekend, he was laid up with the Malaria.)

We got our bikes out and rode down Park Avenue taking advantage of Summer Streets which may seriously be the highlight of my summer. If not, it's in the top three things I love about New York. It makes me happy to be in a "wide open space" without cars even if it is just for three Saturdays from 7am-1pm. In addition to pedaling freely, without having to look both ways and throwing caution to the wind, there is much activity and plenty of free things to be had. The one I'm most excited about is my free bicycle helmet. (Chris opted out!)

We loaded our backpack with Odwalla bars, Stonyfield Farm yogurt, Red Bull, string cheeses and temporary tattoos that said "make NYC your gym" with an image of Lady Liberty flexing her bicep.

Saturday evening we took the train from Penn Station into New Jersey where we got my ring fixed. Well, we left in with the jeweler and will go back to get it in the coming weeks. (Which means, another trip to New Jersey.) It's weird that it takes 45 minutes to get somewhere not really that far away at all. When Chris pointed out the Empire State Building in the distance I was surprised.

Fortunately, that trip into Jersey wasn't all for nothing (Not that going to Jared's and getting my engagement ring mended is unimportant- but it's such a destination location. Plus, if we're getting out of the city, I want to make it worth my wild.) We were on foot - not the greatest idea in New Jersey- so our options for going and doing and seeing were limited. Luckily, we'd made arrangements and some dear friends picked us up, and treated us to dinner at their home.

...

In New Jersey, apartments are larger, rent's are more affordable and for Stefani the grass seems greener. As I sprawled out on the cream colored area rug in their living-room floor, Matt played a song from My Fair Lady on his piano. Their two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment & car do not come without a price though. There are all the costs involved with owning a vehicle and additional costs ($160 a month or more) for using New Jersey Public Transit- 'cause they don't take NYC Metro cards in Jersey.

For dinner we had spinach and artichoke stuffed portobellos & a Thai inspired dish made with brown rice noodles, ginger, peanut butter, broccoli, bell peppers and carrots. They apologized because they forgot to add the tofu. And because the two dishes really didn't "compliment" one another. But this was completely unimportant to Chris and me- who noshed each bite with satisfaction. This was our first meal prepared by our "foodie friend" and it was delicious.

I'll add here that Matt was the Guac-off winner at our Worship Arts end of year party. And-- he knew more that I did when his wife and he wandered the streets of Bastille Day with me in July while Chris was in Rwanda. He recognized bakeries and patisseries and restaurants by their executive chef's names. It was like seeing a boy on Christmas morning as he pounced from one booth to the next eating maroons and lemon tarts and beef bourguignon. I knew then, I liked these people.

I also knew I had found a fellow food snob when he declared that "next year at the men's retreat I will be handling the food!" "The food at the Mancation was awful." I'm imagining burnt toast, eggs made from powder and mashed potatoes from a box. When I asked him what they ate he said, "Hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill." Served with white bread I'm sure. And I bet they were those pre-formed patties that you get in cases of 25 or so at Costco; Ball Park Franks with French's mustard. But, I didn't really see what the big deal was. I was thinking, "Come on dude. Just be a team player... Even if just for two nights." I was. I ate pancakes and rubbery chicken and went 24 hours without a vegetable when I went on my meditation retreat. I survived....

Anyway, the meal was nice. The conversation natural and real. I read aloud from I book I picked up off their shelves, "Stuff White People Like" and found it laugh-out-loud funny. My favorites might be #112 Hummus, #120 Taking a Year Off, #48 Whole Foods and Grocery Co-ops, and #9 Making You Feel Bad About Not Going Outside. I digress, but it's really funny stuff. Anna showed me dress patterns she had just purchased and material swatches. Over wine we talked about authors and musicians and how Scrubs is our go-to show on Instant Netflix.

After a wonderful evening we caught the 11:16pm train back to Manhattan. And then a cab in the rain back to East 62nd Street. Home in the middle of NYC again.

...

Sunday I yoga-ed,went to church, ate gazpacho for lunch while Chris ate tacos from his favorite hole-in-the-wall-baja-style taco place. We talked about Chris's new position and goals for the fall semester. Wandering the streets of NY is so much more pleasurable with someone else- stopping for frozen yogurt and playing with a Nook at Barnes and Noble and looking for the farmer who sold us the amazing ears of corn last Sunday. Wonderful, wonderful weekend.

Chrissy becomes a Honey

Rehearsal, August 4, 2006- The day before my sister's wedding

Mom doing her mom thing...

Chrissy with Grandaddy

Sort of a silly face, I'll admit, but classic Chrissy with those big brown eyes.

The only brown-eyed child- the other three of us with blue.

Chris and Stefani- August 5, 2006 (two more months until our big day...)

LB, Dad and Stef

Happy Fifth Anniversary Jeremiah & Chrissy Honey

Simple Pleasures

Chris has been home one week today. In spite of a case of malaria (we think) we've been doing well.

I'm not kidding about the malaria, within twelve hours of being home he had flu-like symptoms and I thought he may have food poisoning. By the time I got off work on Friday at 1:00, he had 102.8 fever, which sent me into a panic. After calling my sister the pharmacist in a tizzy and running through through the streets of New York in order for buy simple pain killers I was feeling much better. Chris was feeling better after alternating Tylenol and ibuprofen every three hours. After forty-eight hours of aches and pains and no appetite- things were back to normal (with 1/2 a burger and fries.) So, after testing next week, we'll know for sure. But all signs point to yes.

...

Chris is settling into his new position quite nicely and I am very happy to have him back home. I really am. Time away made me think of all the times from 1996 until now; of proms and proposals and moving across the country. In the past almost five years of marriage we've grown and matured and learned so freaking much. It's hard to know what has been a result of marriage, and what has been a result of moving to a city like New York, and what has been just a result of growing up period.

We've made some tough decisions and fought some hard battles. We've cried and stood hand in hand looking out at New York from our living room window and said, "I can't do this anymore" and yet, here we are. I've cussed this city, I've begged God to send us anywhere else. I've prayed for a fenced-in yard and a home (even a small home) and a garden and a child. But that's not His will for now. And knowing that we're doing what he's called us to do puts everything else in perspective. Not that I'm never gonna whine, but overall I'm at peace. It's His story that we are telling here- not our own.

...

The past week with as a couple I've been purposefully working on talking through my feelings, and settling into our new place together. It's hard at times, but doable. I know God will take care of it all... like where we'll put our bikes, for instance. AND...I melted into the floor the other night when the new baking pan I just purchased was too big for our smaller than average oven. How will I ever do this?! I simply wanted to roast my zucchini, eggplant, corn and onion.

Suddenly it's wasn't about the small apartment or small kitchen or even smaller oven or even the fact that I have to now return the pan and buy another one... it becomes everything. (This is where that mediation thing comes in handy.) It takes me some time, but I do finally realize that I'm being irrational & making broad sweeping comments. This is not, by far the worst thing ever. But it feels like it, in that moment.

...

On Chris's first day to work, at his new job, he insisted on taking a raw ear of corn to lunch with his turkey sandwich, string cheese and nectarine. I could only imagine the custodial staff coming through at the end of the day to find a corn husk in the trash can. Or even worse, someone walking by his office only to see him gnawing on raw corn, bits of corn in his hair and those little silk stings hanging off his beard, thinking, "Who have we hired to minister to our students?" That's him; 100% boy. Mountain Man.

Centering

I realize I never completed my summary of my meditation/ prayer retreat so I'll start there:

The number one thing that I walked away with was that I have to carve out time in my day/ week/ life to just Be. Internal rejuvenation and care is more just as, if not MORE important that external maintenance. I'm trying to give myself more grace and just be present.

God can meet us in the present. In worry or fear of the past or future: peace is not going to be found. When I'm present making decisions is easier: Do I want to go to yoga or to the chiropractor or to the grocery store? Do I want a beef burger for dinner, an apple and cottage cheese or just a big bowl of frozen yogurt? When I'm present, in the moment, really living, I recognize what my body, mind and spirit are needing.

And somehow this entire meditation process really helps me know myself more. Through experiencing the healing and restorative presence of God- I just feel better. I slow down I think clearly and I'm not an anxious-presence. I don't worry if a guest comes over expectantly, or if there's clutter in the windowsill, or if we still don't have pictures hung on the wall.

It's odd how even after 31 years I'm still learning who I am. Or perhaps the opposite is true, I've always been Me, but been trying to conform, cover and complicate things since eight years old. As infants and very small children we have nothing but the present. The moment we're in is what we live for, it's all we know. So I'm coming back to simplicity, to today.

For me, it's so much easier to reflect and sit and have these wonderful amazing revelations out in the country. OUT... away. So, I'm going to purposefully get the hellouttahere from time to time. Manhattan has it's own pace, tempo, demands, sounds; One needs a cleansing in order to maintain equilibrium. I will be heading for the hill a little more often than I have, to find peace within and be reminded everything will be okay.

And meditation, it's not that scary. Listening to God & for Him and waiting instead of assuming and talking and trying to convince God to join in what I have planned and what I want to do- it's much better. Things change and life's a little easier and makes a little more sense.

I'm noticing areas in my life where I'm surrendering. I'm feeling better. I'm submitting and falling into his purpose, even without knowing how it will all work out.

I find Hebrews 10 so exciting and so hopeful:

³⁴ For you sympathized with the prisoners and accepted with joy the confiscation of your possessions, knowing that you yourselves have a better and enduring possession. ³⁵ So don't throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. ³⁶ For you need endurance, so that after you have done God's will, you may receive what was promised.