So Much Truth

I've been loving this song lately!

I Still Believe

Scattered words and empty thoughts
Seem to pour from my heart
I've never felt so torn before
Seems I don't know where to start

But its now I feel Your grace fall like rain
From every fingertip
Washing away my pain

I still believe in Your faithfulness!
I still believe in Your truth.
I still believe in Your holy word.
Even when I dont see, I still believe!

Though the questions still fog up my mind
With promises I still seem to bear
Even when answers slowly unwind
It's my heart I see You prepare

But its now that I feel Your grace fall like rain
From every fingertip
Washing away my pain

The only place I can go is into Your arms
Where I throw to You my feeble prayers
In brokeness I can see
That this is Your will for me
Help me to know You are near

I still believe in Your faithfulness
I still believe in Your truth
I still believe in Your holy word
Even when I dont see, I still believe

- Jeremy Camp

No Place I'd Rather Be

Fresh Beginnings

For my birthday I received a Willow Tree figurine of a girl with arms flung wide, reveling in the joy of life. And it made me cry. Because that’s what I had been… and what I longed to be again.

But I was stuck. I was hurting. There was none of the joy in life that I was used to experiencing.

The past year had been filled with difficult situations. Each time I would struggle to regain my footing, a new circumstance would come along my path and knock me down again.

I wasn’t sleeping. I was exhausted. And the closest to giving up that I’ve ever been.

In my exhaustion, there was a constant crying out… “Jesus… I can’t do this any more. Why are You doing this to me?” Sometimes it even took too much effort to vocalize my thoughts…or to get on my knees. I would be flat on my face, sobbing at the foot of the cross. And still, I felt so alone.

I was beginning to feel frantic. There had to be something better.

The desperation reached a fever pitch in December. I felt as if my spiritual life was hanging in the balance. Something had to break, or I would be the one breaking.

And I started looking ahead to 2008 - clinging to the fact that it could be a new slate. A fresh start.

My backbone began to stiffen, my soul began to wonder if there was a small glimmer of hope.

I began to tell myself I was not going to give up without a fight.

A plan began to formulate...

I knew that God wanted to meet with me. He wanted to be an “us.” But “us” as a word means “more than one,” so “us” only works when I make the choice to meet with Him.

It is so elementary… what I have been raised with… lived most of my life doing.

Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been immersing myself in Him. Relearning what it is to willingly spend time with Him. Instead of just screaming “I can’t do this,” choosing to rest in the fact that He’s not asking me to do it… at least not alone.

And the joy is returning. I no longer look at the Willow Tree figurine with envy. I look at her, smile, and throw my arms in the air as well.

Like Mary, as she sobbed in the garden that morning of His resurrection, Jesus came to me. He was waiting for me to stop crying long enough to hear His gentle, “Lindsay.”

"Your satisfaction with Him will never be greater than your desire for Him." - Dr Paul Chapell

A Great Man

There are some fathers who emulate God's Father love... who teach you to crave His love, and not to fear Him.

My Dad is quietly one of those.

Happy birthday, Daddy.

There's not a day that goes by where I'm not thankful that I'm your little girl.

I Love to LAUGH!

Massage - $77
Bottled Water - $2.50
Sharing a laugh with a stranger - Priceless

This afternoon, after a most relaxing massage (with no Houston-esque extras, you'll be glad to know) I went to Barnes & Noble.

And while there, made a quick trip to the restroom. Another lady was ahead of me, but right before we walked in we saw a woman walk into the men's room.

First lady and I looked at each, shrugged our shoulders, and went into our respective stalls.

All was silent, and then we heard a horrified yell from beyond the wall.

And we both burst out laughing.

The laughing continued until we met again at the sink.

"I can't wait to tell my family about this," she said.

"And I can wait to tell my blog about this," thought I.

Emotional Bandaids

The original bandaid had been on for so long that I no longer knew what the wound underneath looked like.

When it hurt, I would just carefully place a fresh bandaid on top of all the others. From my vantage point, there was always a clean bandaid to look down at.

She came alongside and saw what I was choosing to turn a blind eye toward. A deep wound that would never have a chance to heal, because it was being jealously guarded by someone afraid of the pain that taking the years worth of bandaids off would entail.

A relationship of trust was built, and a tiny thought in my heart began to wonder what it would be like to uncover the wound.

The fear was still an insurmountable obstacle, but I was lovingly persuaded to let someone else do the revealing.

Silent tears rolling down my cheeks... shaking in fear... my soul laid completely bare.

Just as a child panicking at the thought of having a bandaid ripped off a skinned knee, the fear of what would be found was worse than the pain of the actual process.

Afterwards, sobs of exhaustion and relief. It was over.

The wound was revealed.

It could now start to heal.

My Wish for 2008

Twenty years from now

you will be more disappointed

by the things you didn't do

than by the ones you did do.

So throw off the bowlines,

sail away from the safe harbor.

Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore.

Dream.

Discover.

-Mark Twain

Shoppin' for Shovels

NH has had the snowiest December on record. And with yesterday's storm, it looks like January wants to beat some records as well.

So, at the top of my mental list of things to do this evening was "buy a shovel."

I told Dad about it. He said, "There are lots of shovels out there. Make sure you get one that's not too big for you... one that will work well for you."

Now I was envisioning a store with rows upon rows of shovels... all shapes, colors and sizes.

I told Steph. She said, "Uh oh - do you need me to go with you to buy this shovel?"

For goodNESS sake, thought I... this was supposed to be an easy thing to cross off my list. Now, everyone is questioning my shovel buying abilities.

I am 29.

I can buy a shovel on my own.

Target was my store of choice. I walked in, and there were no rows upon rows of shovels.

There was one small aisle, and it had only one type... and the handle was retractable... and I didn't like it.

I scoffed at their sad selection and informed the shovel aisle in no uncertain terms that I was taking my money to Lowe's, where I would have a fabulous selection to choose from, and would purchase the epitome of shovel perfection.

Into Lowe's I marched. And went to "Seasonal," because when you live in NH and it's January 2nd, "Seasonal" says to me "Shovels, Snowblowers, Ice, Sand, Etc."

Apparently the people who create the hanging signs in Lowe's work from FLORIDA, because the "Seasonal" section was filled with annuals, perennials, and enough dirt to cover just about anything you desired. WHO even plants flowers in January in NH??

By this time, having had my shovel buying prowess questioned, I was not going to fail on this mission. I looked all over, and finally had to ask someone.

He said, "I don't have many left," and pointed to FOUR shovels.

Who even knew that with the 87 feet of snow that we've gotten in the last three days, that others would want to purchase shovels as well?


The handles didn't retract... in fact, they were a little bent, supposedly to help my back, so I grabbed one and went to pay for it.

The cashier who rang me up works at the place that I work, so to make nice small talk I said, "Wow - it's a long day for you, eh?"

This apparently was the equivalent of me holding a knife to her throat, as she glared at me, mumbled something in the affirmative, and then threw my change at me.

Note to self... don't break cardinal rule of acknowledging co-workers outside the confines of our beloved building.

I walked my shovel back to my car, and informed it that it's name was now "Frank."

He sat up front, but he is not much of a conversationalist.

I got home, but it was so bitterly cold I had already decided Frank and I would shovel tomorrow... and when I turned into my driveway, much to my joyous surprise and relief I saw...

Frank was not needed tonight!


Someone had already shoveled me out.

A Little Re-cap of New Year's Eve

Last night, the festivities began at Texas Roadhouse with Drewey, Amy, DJ & Wes... oh, and me.

The wait was l-o-n-g... including much peanut tossing back and forth. A particularly bling-ed out patron was caught in the cross-fire once, but no harm done...

The food was amazing, as always, and then we headed back to DJ's place... losing Drewey to a Watch Night service along the way.

By the time we reached DJ's house, my body was seeing my food choice as a suicide attempt, and was doing all that it could to let me know it did not approve.

Every once in a while, since having my gallbladder taken out last fall, my body decides to revisit the fun times that gallbladder attacks were, just to see if I remember what they're like.

Believe me... I remember.

So, for about 45 minutes, I lay curled in a ball on DJ's bedroom floor, assuring my body we would get through this.

DJ came in and rubbed my back, and when I could uncurl, he lay down beside me, shoulder to shoulder, for support.

After I convinced my body that it would survive to see another year, we watched "Sleepless in Seattle" which is probably one of my top five favorites for movies. Wes threatened to go in and curl up in a ball on the floor at having to watch a chick-flick, but I think he made it through just fine.

On this day of focusing on what the last year held, and what the future may hold, I think on this...

I am lucky in the friends that I have!

The World Says "It's Been Eight Years...

... you can forget."

My heart screams back, "NEVER."

When my Dad told me the news that Friday afternoon, I felt my body and my spirit split in two.

My mind floated above my body, numbly observing it crumpled on the floor, groaning under the weight of the most agonizing grief I'd ever experienced.

And at that moment, I thought that I would never be whole again.

But I learned that time does heal wounds.

I learned that the anguish that made it impossible to eat for days, eventually dulled.

The tears that were constantly on my cheeks, eventually dried.

I also learned that in choosing to live my life to the full, it honors her memory.

I've learned to smile instead of cry every time I put my perfume on, and to say her name in conversation, even when it seems awkward.

I've learned that grief goes from a piercing stab to a dull ache to a sweet savor.

That some days I can't remember what her laugh sounded like, and I panic.

But that on other days I remember something I'd forgotten, and it brings renewed happiness.

This summer we went to visit her... and I learned that it's harder than I thought it would be to kneel at the gravestone of a precious friend, brushing debris from the surface.

But I've also learned that friendship goes beyond death, and the countless tears I've cried will be replaced with sweet gales of laughter when we're reunited.

Someday.

An Addie-ism

Addie pointed to the silver ring on my thumb...

"Does that mean that you're married?"

"No," I replied. "It just meant that I liked it, so I bought it."

She began to cry.

"I'm SORRY that you're so lonely," she wailed.

I tried to assure her that Aunt Lindsay was just fine with being single, that I'm not exorbitantly lonely.

A minute later she said,

"Well, at least you don't have to bother with a child... or cook larger meals."

Aaaah - the upswings of singledom.

Now We Are 14!

Merry Christmas!

A Quick Little Quip

I was playing my piano last night, and Addie was curled up in my living room chair.

The song finished, and her lilting little voice said,

"Your music is sweet. Sweet like candy."

LOVE!

Merry Christmas, my friends!

Good Ol' Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head
'There is no peace on earth,' I said,
'For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.'

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Till ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Things That Make Me Say "Hmmmm"

It seems to me that I'm on the incorrect coast...

Of All The Indignities

I went to get my hair cut today.

The hydraulic in the chair was broken.

They made me sit on a booster seat.

The end.

It's Us... or Is It??

One can never tell when one is wearing glasses as large as one's face.

This is what I call the epitome of incognito!

More Thoughts on Chivalry

After my recent post on chivalry, I've done a lot more thinking on the topic... had some discussions with friends, and come to a bit more of an understanding of what I think on the topic.

Here are the results:

In my opinion the seeming death of chivalry was brought on by the whole women's lib movement, and those of us who are coming in the aftermath have to decide which side to stand on... and the lines have become grayed, so the choice is harder then ever to make.

As a single woman, I have both sides screaming at me... one side stating that I don't need anyone else to make my life fulfilling... or to help me survive. It's my responsibility to prove to the world that I am just as competent as my male counterparts... more competent even, and I don't need help. Asking for or accepting help is admitting weakness... and weakness is not to be tolerated, when the goal is equality.

The other side, the side that comes from inside my heart, knows that I was created differently. It yearns to be taken care of... to freely admit that sometimes I do need help. To acknowledge that it feels comforting when someone is taking care of me... and to take pride in being what the world scoffs at as the "weaker sex."

Living under the microscope, watched carefully for being an almost 30 single career woman is an interesting place to find myself... Some are scornful because I freely admit that all I want to be is a wife and mother. Others are filled with disdain because I'm refusing to sit at home and wait for my knight to come in and sweep me off my feet... instead, I'm out following my dreams in school, and making a living for myself.

Is this where I saw myself when daydreaming as a little girl? Not at all. I had the names of my yet-to-be-born children all picked out... and even some potential groom's names :)

So here I am, trying to find the balance. Trying to prove myself in the world, desperately not wanting to be pitied for my single status, and yet trying to remember to graciously accept help if needed...

But there is still that little bit of me that wants the world to know that if there's not that specific someone out there taking care of me right now, I can do a pretty good job taking care of myself.

PS - all of this does not take into account the three amazing men in my family, who take good care of me, though two of them live miles and miles away.
Just this morning, my big brother was out in the snow at 6:15 helping me get my car started when the battery died.

Things That Are Bad

* Having a severe case of the giggles.

Things that are really bad

* Having said case of giggles in A&P class this night.

As I watched the professor flit back and forth between her notes, the book, the whiteboard, and the projector, a thought popped into my mind...

She is like a spastic octopus.

And no one can have a thought that profound, without having some sort of laughage.

Especially not me.