I Got You Covered

Prayer is a powerful thing.  It is one of many ways that, as a Believer in Christ, I worship and build my relationship with Him.  Some of my prayers are whispers, some are screams.  Some are said with a smile, some are broken with tears.  Sometimes I have no words to offer, so I sit at my piano and just…play. 

I love to keep prayer journals.  Most are for my eyes and heart only, but a few are different.  There are times when I keep a journal of prayers for someone else.  Nothing fancy, just a simple chronicling of my conversations to my God which are specific to a person. 

One thing that I’m not very good at, but am working on, is actually asking for prayer.  Even though I believe that prayer is powerful, and can change circumstances and lives – I have a hard time letting down my guard enough to share my own struggles.   But that is changing.

God has recently opened the door for me to reconnect with an old friend.  We hadn’t really seen each other in 10 years, until the beginning of August.  Since then, it is almost as if we’d never stopped being friends. 

Several weeks ago, during one late night conversation, she asked me if there was anything I needed.  Without much hesitation I said, “I could really use prayer.”  And I proceeded to pour out my heart.  She listened, and didn’t say much. 

Last weekend, she told me that she was sending a package to me.  Seeing as I had just had a birthday, I didn’t really think much of it, and the only thing she said was, “It was something you asked for.”  For the next several days I wracked my brain; thinking back over past conversations trying to figured out what ‘thing’ I had asked for.  My efforts were fruitless, so I waited.

Yesterday, I received that package.  I carefully opened it, and inside, neatly folded, was a hand-crocheted work of art.  The card which was attached explained to me that it was a “Prayer Shawl.”  My dear friend had asked a ministry in her church to lift my name up before the Father.  The wonderful woman, who made it, did so with prayer upon her lips on my behalf.  With each stich she prayed for me – a complete stranger.  She prayed comfort and healing, strength for the journey, patience with the process, for peace and understanding, and hope for tomorrow; all of the things I feel like I’m seriously lacking.

When I was finally able to talk to my friend about the gift, she simple said this, “You asked for prayer a while back for friends, job and your knee.  Thought I’d get you covered…literally.”

~~

As I ran my fingers across the stiches, I thought of my great-grandmother, Sarah (aka “Nan”), who first taught me how to crochet.  Her arthritic, gnarled fingers were surprisingly nimble as she worked the needle and yarn.  I would sit at her feet, leaned against the front of her chair clumsily fumbling with making a simple chain, while she would sit for hours on end, gracefully making something for someone: potholders, dishcloths, doylies, socks, and afghans.  In honor of my Prayer Shawl creator, and in loving memory of “Nan” – I think I’ll make a shawl or blanket of my own to give away. 

Don’t worry…I got you covered!

A Biking Accident and God

A couple days ago, I had an embarrassing moment: I fell off my bike.  Well, it was more than a ‘fall’ – it was more like a ‘crash, tumble, flip and skid’ off my bike.  No serious injuries; however, I did get a couple of pretty gross cuts and bruises – which in a week or so will make for some pretty “badass” scars (according to one of the amazing  bikers who stopped to help me.)

Once I got my wits about me, I had about a mile ride back to my car.  During that mile ride, I had a God-moment.  As I passed other trail blazers, I smiled and nodded, and even beamed a cheerful ‘Good morning!’ But the truth; the reality: I was hurting and close to tears; wounds exposed, tender, and burning.

Here is the God-moment.  As I was riding, I wondered how many time I pass people who, on the outside, look like everything is fine, like everything is perfect.  But on the inside, they are hurting and close to tears; their heartaches and wounds tender and exposed.  

The two anonymous ‘Angelic Bikers’ could have just kept going.  They were already 200+ feet ahead of me when they heard me crash, tumble, flip and skid.  But they didn’t.  They saw someone in need and turned around to help.  The gentlemen pickup my bike and check for damage.  The woman gently reached her hand down to me and helped me up.  She wasn’t concerned about inconvenience or communicable diseases.  She was concerned about me. 

How many times have we comforted by the simple smile or touch of kind stranger, the embrace of a child, or an encouraging, heartfelt conversation of a long-distance friend?   How many times have I comforted someone I didn’t know with a simple smile or touch?  How many times have I reached down and hugged a crying child?  How many times have I offered a heartfelt, encouraging conversation to a long-distance friend?

I’m convinced that simple acts of kindness do not go unnoticed, and are appreciated.  We may not see the gratefulness right away.  We may never be thanked.  Over time, we may not even remember who it was that we helped.  But every time I glance down at my soon-to-be scars from my bike crash-tumble-flip-skid, I remember my Good Samaritans, and smile. 

~~

Lord, help me to not be afraid of stepping out and comforting someone who needs it.  Help to not be afraid of asking for help when I truly need it.  Thank you for keeping me safe and that the injuries were not worse.  And thank you to those two bikers who came to my aid.  I may never know their names, but bless them.  AMEN

These Pebbles in My Hand

These Pebbles in My hand, you see

Were given by a child

Who, while never having met me

Loved me all the while.

With a twinkle in his eyes

And a smile on his face

Asked with all sincerity

Which Pebble I liked Best

My answer was simple, direct and kind

It was honest, sure and true

"The beautiful one that I love best

Is the one chosen by you."

He glanced at his mother

With a question in his eyes

She smiled and nodded

He began searching for the prize

With a gentle grace he sifted

Some large, some small, some simple, some grand

But only twelve of thousands

made it into his tiny hand

Carefully and lovingly

For me, he chose each one

Nothing expected in return

It was a simple act of Love.

My eyes flooded with tears

And my heart warmly smiled

These Pebbles in my hand, you see

were given by a child.

Silence can be more than Golden

I had a wonderful thing happen to me this morning.  I was talking with a friend, laying bare the inner workings of my heart.  I was asking hard questions; expressing doubt and my inability to understand.  She listend intently and offered a few comments, but other than that - she didn't really say much.  I dont' know that I was expecting answers. 

We sat next to each other...just sat there.  After several minutes, I turned to her - she just smiled.  I thought of Job.  Now, i'm not saying that my situation is anything like what Job went through.  What drew my thoughts to him was this: Job 2:11-13

"When three of Job’s friends heard of the tragedy he had suffered, they got together and traveled from their homes to comfort and console him. Their names were Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. When they saw Job from a distance, they scarcely recognized him. Wailing loudly, they tore their robes and threw dust into the air over their heads to show their grief. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and nights. No one said a word to Job, for they saw that his suffering was too great for words."

There are a few times when I confide in friends, looking for words of wisdom or comfort.  But the majority of the time, just having someone take a few moments of their time to sit with me, to just listen with empathy, kindness and without judgement.  If truth be told, I don't really care what is said to me in a time of brokenness; just knowing that someone is there is worth more than gold.

It's a Survivor thing...

So...I have a wonderful friend who is a breast cancer survivor.  Each time I talk with her, I am encouraged, empowered and inspired.  She has survived unspeakable hardships, been tossed in the firey furnace - only to walk out with a smile, and a heart that is so strong.

I'm pretty sure that we have all 'survived' many things.  The business lunch we're dreading, the presentation we're scared of, the medical results, the surgery, the loss of a loved one...  Each time we take the next step toward tomorrow, regardless of how painful or unstable it may be, we become a survivor. 

I found out a few weeks ago that I tore my ACL and will need reconstructive knee surgery in June.  Certainly not life threatening, but I will be unable to many things that are now a part of my daily routine, at least for a while. 

I think, though, the most difficult thing for me to deal with was how the surgery will effect my job I love.  I'll be able to continue to teach, but from a chair.  And I won't be able to actually "do" TaeKwonDo for 4-6 months.  That sounds like an incredibly long time.  I'm planning to test in a couple of weeks for 2nd degree, Level 2 - but I won't be able to test again until December. 

There are so many emotions attached to this surgery.  On the one hand, I'm excited at the possibility of moving with less pain and my knee being stronger.  On the other hand, I'm scared; scared of the pain, the post surgery therapy, scared of not being able to do my job effectively. 

I took a 4-mile bike ride this morning; a painfree ride.  During those 4 miles, I thought of my survivor friend...and her strength.  I realized...I have the blood of a survivor coursing through my veins.  Each trial is another chance to inspire and be inspired, to encourage and be encouraged, to trust and be trusted. 

I am a SURVIVOR.

The Clay

The Clay by Ron DiCianni

This is my most favorite work of art in the world.  One day I hope to own a copy.  It never fails that everytime I see this painting, I am reminded that God is continuously working on me.  There seem to me so many 'rough edges' in my life, and sometimes it feels like it is all just hopeless.  But then I see this picture and hope and faith are restored. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm wandering in the desert alone, then I remember that sand can be used to smooth rough edges.  Sometimes I feel like I'm caught in the rapid undercurrent of a river, then I remember that swiftly moving water can be used to smooth rough edges.  Sometimes I feel like I'm in the middle of a driving rain, then I remember that rain can be used to wash away dirt and make things clean.  Sometimes I feel like I'm walking through a fire and the heat is more than I can bear, then I remember that it is through fire that things are made pure.

All of the things we go through, both good AND bad, easy AND difficult help shape us.  God uses it all for HIS glory, not ours.  A lot of the time, I don't like this because I want a little of the glory for me - "Look what I've done" or "I've been through so much, and look at me now."  My stark reality: it's not about me...it's about Him, it's about showing what He's done in and through me. 

These mindsets in me are the 'rough edges' that He lovingly but strongly chisels away.  He uses the lonely desert, the water's current, the driving rain and the unbearable fire to create, mold, refine and shape me into a vessel of honor to do His will.  I learned long ago that the best kind of pot to shine a light through isn't one of beauty and perfection, but one that is cracked.  It's through those cracks that enough light is given us to take one step at a time. 

"Yet, O Lord you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand."

Isaiah 64:8

Two Gold Bars

In early September of 2008, I restarted a journey; a path that I'd left 10 years prior.  Two and a half years ago, I was a white belt in TaeKwonDo. 


Testing as a white belt.  I'm on the far right.

My journey continued from White Belt to Yellow, then Green, Green Sr., Blue, Blue Sr., Brown, Brown Sr., Red, Red Sr., and finally in April of 2010 - I tested for my Black Belt.

 

 

 

 

I have recently hit another TaeKwonDo milestone.  I have earned my 2nd Degree Black Belt. 

 This was a day that I'd only dreamed of.  Just about everyone that I've asked about what their goal is for training in TaeKwonDo, their answers are all time same: "I want to get my black belt."  But of all those who "want" to earn their black belt, few actually accomplish it, and the numbers who continue their artistic journey are even fewer.  With each level of rank, and each bar that is added to a belt; it's a huge statement of committment, courage, and perseverance. 

It's not always easy; it can be stressful, painful, and tearful.  But we do what we love, and love what we do.  We are Martial Artists.  I am a Martial Artist.  I am a Black Belt with Two Gold Bars!