Watermelon and Wind

Today’s weather calls for wide open windows, causing the breeze to dance through the house. And I keep taking deep breaths in through my nose and smiling.

I stood at the kitchen counter and carefully hacked watermelon into uneven cubes. I have a bad habit of eating half of a fruit while I’m cutting it. But when the cold juicy cubes are sweeter than candy, how can I not devour it?

I don’t really have anything profound or significant to say today, other than that I was so overcome by the beauty of the aforementioned things that I felt compelled to write it down. I could have easily grabbed my journal and taken note, but I wanted to share the beauty with you.

And perhaps this is to say, if we don’t have time to sink a kitchen knife into colorful fruits and vegetables, then what are we doing with our lives?  

How differently our day would look  if we spent three minutes thoughtfully slicing produce, as if we were creating a work of art, or rather, marveling at a work of art. The alternative would be to haphazardly chop produce for a quick dinner and that doesn’t sound relaxing or enjoyable.

God has taken the time to give us beautiful food to eat, fresh from the ground or the tree or the bush. I think we should take time to cut it up and let the flavor overwhelm our tongue, and allow our hearts to be overwhelmed by His goodness. 

Learning Lessons

When I opened my eyes this morning I was slapped in the face with the reality that summer is almost over. I knew it was going to speed by, but I did not heed my own warning. My list of goals for the summer had slid itself under the other stacks of paper, long forgotten about. I discovered it the other day when I was moving into my new room for the upcoming school year. Turns out I completed all of zero things on that list. I stared at it wondering what on earth happened to my 115 days of freedom.

Summer setting like the sun

I'm trying to convince myself that it's okay I didn't do anything on my list because I was able to do a whole lot of other things I never considered prior to summer. I traveled a lot, almost every weekend. I was able to do a lot of writing. And I have spent a few too many hours with my mostly adorable nanny-girls. (Can you tell I am ready for them to go back to school?)

At the beginning of the summer I thought about learning the importance of rest but decided I didn't have enough time for that. I ended the school year in May and walked right into a full-time job. I took a couple classes and kept my summer very disciplined and scheduled. And while I do not regret not completing my list, I do wish I had taken more time to rest.

Friends have started to move back to campus and I must admit I am a little sad that my quiet campus is bustling again. (Do I sound like an introvert, or what? Yikes.) The presence of people has sparked this unpleasant reminder that summer is almost over and it is time for me to reenter into discipline and schedule and I am realizing I never had a break from either of those things.

And with this rude awakening comes stress, my nemesis. I thought I had kicked that thing a long time ago, yet here it is again. And I know I am not the only one feeling this way; loads of other students are coming to terms with this sad reality that we suddenly have a lot to do. But starting the school year in a stressed state of mind doesn't seem like a very smart move.

I think stress is a choice. When we get dressed in the morning we can choose to accessorize with stress of we can hand that one over to God and allow Him to clothe us with peace instead. For some reason it is not easy to relinquish stress, even though I know Jesus wants to carry my burdens and stress. I can't seem to get it through my thick head that I don't have to pile on the weight of the world and grin and bear it all on my own.

A couple close friends have encouraged me to let this upcoming school year be my year of No! because I don't say no, ever. So I have decided to say yes to saying no. However I am already being bombarded with people who need me and tasks that need to be completed. And here I am, shaking my head yes. It is hard to implement change.

I thought I was really good at time management, but I'm starting to think that part of time management is saying no. And part of time management is blocking out time to rest. And even as I type this I am turning up my nose in disdain and thinking But I don't have time to rest. Not only that, I don't want to rest. I just want to say yes, even though I know the consequences of always saying yes.

So, if you encounter me this year and ask me to do something or be something or say something and I respond with a No just smile at me and know that two-letter word was harder for me to utter than actually doing the thing you want me to do.

Part of growing and becoming more of who God intended us to be is making mistakes and learning lessons. I know I have not fully learned this lesson; in fact, I am pretty certain I am going to keep making this mistake for a while. But I would like to go ahead and encourage you, in my hypocrisy, to learn from my mistake; don't make this one for yourself. Release the stress, take time to rest, and don't be afraid to say no.

Looking Through Windows

This morning I woke up eye-level to bright-white cumulus cotton balls in the sky. I pressed my face against the too small 9x12.5 inch frame, captivated by the view and desiring to get even closer to the beauty.

I love the sky. I tend to spend a good part of my day on the ground with my neck craned upward noticing the way in which God chose to paint the sky that day. As much as I love the sky from the ground, I think it’s even more beautiful when I fly. The clouds bolder, the sky bluer, the sunsets grander. The problem is I can only view a very limited portion because I’m stuffed into a tiny seat and only offered a tiny window.

In general, I really enjoy windows. They are like picture frames. Each window provides a different perspective to see what lies beyond it because each one is shaped differently. The view that a large wide-open window presents is very different from one that an oval shaped window with wooden panes would give.

In every event or circumstance or occasion we each have our own window – our own perspective – to look through. We can be crammed into an airplane, straining our neck in all sorts of directions, hoping to catch a glimpse. Or, we can fling the enormous rectangle window open wide, soaking in all it has to offer.

Regardless, of the size of the window, we are still looking through a window. Our perspective is still limited. We can only perceive so much as long as we are standing inside looking out.

Rapunzel is a classic example of one who peers out the window, stuck perceiving the world through a crude hole. Thankfully we are not Rapunzel. We are not trapped in our tower waiting for our prince to climb our outrageously long locks. We get to make a choice.

This past week I have been in Germany visiting one of my dearest friends. The trip has been fun and relaxing and replenishing. I used to love to travel because I wanted to experience new cultures and I wanted to be anywhere but America. I used to travel because I didn’t have a home and traveling was the most comforting option. But now I have a home and I have a window I can look out of, and I feel content to not hop on a plane every couple months.

I could have easily let Bekka tell me all sorts of stories about Germany. I could have stayed at home and allowed her to show me picture after picture and give detailed descriptions of the country. But then I would only be looking through a window. I would be playing the part of Rapunzel.

But instead I went. I made the choice to get up and go and broaden my view. I wanted to see more than what a window-view could offer.

Strangely, (or maybe not so strangely) I think it all comes back to love. I didn't come to Germany for my own benefit. (I mean, yes, of course I wanted to have a fun, relaxing, and replenishing week in a foreign country; who doesn’t?) but ultimately I came because I love this friend of mine. I wanted to come to spend time with her and allow her to show me more of who she is.

When you make the choice to love, when you make the choice to step out to the other side of the window, suddenly people are what matter. Time and money and any other obstacle fade in comparison to the love you have for people.

Yes, relationships can certainly be cultivated through a window, but you can only go so far with them. You can only listen to so many stories and see so many pictures. Besides, communication through a window is a bit rough what with the hand gestures and the muffled words and the sad attempt to read lips. Eventually you have to get out and start doing with her (or him or them) instead of looking at her through the window picture frame.

It is taking me a long time to grasp this whole concept of love, but I'm starting realize that Bob Goff was on to something: love actually does. We’ve got to take action to love and to get on the other side of the window and experience more. I don’t think this means everyone needs to board the next plane to Germany, but I think we should be open to the idea of performing radical acts of love on any scale. This will look different for each person. But when you make the choice to love, when you make the choice to stop looking through the window and instead venture to the other side, suddenly the options and ways in which you can love are endless.