Oct 4, 2012 | The Good Word
Just a couple of weeks ago, it was strong on my heart, the reminder that it’s not always a good idea to wait for what feels like perfect timing. When it comes to welcoming people into your life, jumping into something you know God has breathed into you and you were created to do… the list could be a rather long one, but you get the idea: there are times when waiting for perfect timing is just plain wrong.
But the beautiful paradox of following the Lord that I’m consistently met with met me again this week, when I was ready to jump into a small decision and I felt that little tug in my heart — this isn’t the timing, wait, wait. Wait. It seemed like a pretty straightforward decision: We needed some kinda sorta piece of furniture to go into the “nursery” where Collie #3 will soon reside and sleep peacefully all night long. (Of course she’s gonna do that, faith!) I waited a while because we didn’t have the money to spend. I kept an eye on the sale ads, Craigslists, and online yard sales, and even posted “In Search Ofs” in a couple of Mom’s groups on Facebook. At least I think I did that.
{A Perfectly Timed Sunrise in Wilderness, South Africa}
And then I was blessed with a scrumdiddlyumptious birthday celebration, which included gifts from my folks, which included money, which meant I then had the money to buy a changing table. Which I was pretty excited about.
But then something in the back of my mind was whispering… not that one. Nope, not that one. Nope, sorry. Not the ones on Craigslists, the yard sales, the Mom’s groups, or any of the heaps of websites I browsed. I was looking for a path marked with the label peace, but there was not a peaceful path to be found. Just that slightly uncomfortable when ya know it in your knower, I’d like to make a decision and be done with this, but I can’t sort of feeling.
Doesn’t the Lord often lead us to a place of postponement, in order for the best to become possible?
Then last week, in the midst of this wonderful Bible study by Kelly Minter
, I received confirmation about listening to that still, small whisper to wait, wait wait. We were reading about Nehemiah, his heart, completely broken for the state of things in Jerusalem, while he was living large as a cupbearer to the king in a Persian resort far away. He heard the news about Jerusalem, began to fast and pray, and four months later, got the opportunity to speak to the king about what was on his heart.
Kelly spoke of her conviction about that — Nehemiah’s faithful persistence in prayer, and commented:
This is a convicting model for me because often I am more comfortable taking action than I am sitting quietly before the Lord, waiting and listening for His voice. {Minter, Nehemiah, p. 25}
I knew those words were for me. And I sensed a still, small whisper of encouragement that that was why I couldn’t find peace about the changing table.
Don’t I know this already? The Lord’s timing is better than mine. I need to trust Him.
When we gathered to talk through last week’s reading last Friday, this particular prompting came to mind as something I felt like mentioning. I shared the story of the changing table and the waiting, and how I identified with Minter when she said sometimes she’d rather do than pray.
And then?
Someone from the Bible study group said she had two changing tables and I could pick which one I wanted. Oh, yes, that is exactly what happened. And since we needed to run another errand in Greenville that evening, by the end of the day a changing table was going for a ride in the back of our van.
It came in handy, right there in the van, when the Tank needed a change before we got home, and it absolutely fit the bill because I was hoping for something with a good amount of storage space underneath, and something I could paint without feeling guilty that I was painting something that didn’t need painting.
And? The friend who gave it to me wanted to give it to me and did not want a dollar for it. Which means the birthday cash can go towards the sander I’ve been hoping to get for DIY purposes, some other crafty stuff I’d like for the nursery, and the paint to paint the changing table, of course.
Psalm 32: 8 – 9 says:
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will guide you with My eye.
Do not be like the horse or like the mule,
Which have no understanding,
Which must be harnessed with bit and bridle,
Else they will not come near you.
This instruction to stay in step with the Holy Spirit so often resonates with me. While a horse might tend to hurry ahead of the pace, and a mule might lag behind, the Lord says, “I’ll set the pace. I’ll show you the way. I’ll guide you if you’re willing to stay in step with me.”
So sometimes the right thing to do is not to wait for what you perceive to be the perfect timing for something. And sometimes, the right thing to do is to be still, to trust and to wait. And the beautiful truth in the journey of walking by faith is that, if you wait for it, the whisper will come, with the wisdom to know the difference.
xCC
Sep 22, 2012 | The Good Word, The Parenthood
He had just delivered a baby in the room next door when he came in to speak to me. A couple of nurses had scurried in and out of my waiting room, me sitting on that rolled-out white paper on the examination table, legs and flip flops dangling, engrossed in a book and enjoying the quiet. They hadn’t said a word as they gathered supplies with a hustle and a bustle — one nurse went so far as to tell me she couldn’t tell me what was going on when I asked.
Finally another nurse came in to explain that the doctor would still be a few more minutes because the woman in the room next door just delivered her baby. I was at 32 weeks — she was perhaps at 38 or 39, arrived for her routine appointment although she had been “feeling some pressure” and in the room next to mine, she’d gone into labour so quickly the doctor knew he couldn’t send her away in an ambulance or she’d give birth on the way to the hospital.
When curiosity got the better of me and I joined the team of staff members in the hallway, I heard the first cry that baby would ever cry. It blessed my soul. She arrived in her own perfect timing.
{18 Months Ago, in Perfect TigerTank Timing}
Maybe his eagerness to deliver babies got the better of him, but on this, our first conversation, he immediately mentioned the idea of inducing me when the time came. I decided since this was our first meeting that I didn’t want to start an argument, but my heart was whispering “over my dead body!” Unless there seems to be danger to the baby or me, I would much rather let nature take its course.
Perhaps I couldn’t write a book about prenatal care, but I know a thing or two about Perfect Timing.
I’m confident of this: there are times in life when the right thing to do is to wait for that perfect timing. The Hubs talks about it in photography — not being too eager to shoot shoot shoot every second, but watching with expectancy so that when that moment comes, you don’t miss it.
I’m also confident of this: there are times in life when the wrong thing to do is to wait for that perfect timing. Waiting for the perfect timing to make amends in a relationship, for example, is a bad idea. Waiting until it seems like the timing is just right to jump into something that has been burning in your heart for years — that thing in your soul that you just know you have to do — is wrong.
And when it comes to making sure you are living your life in community, welcoming the people around you and engaging in meaningful relationships — loving the people on your path who are waiting for love — there will never be perfect timing. You cannot afford to wait.
It happened twice in the last couple of weeks, that we had friends over for a meal and things didn’t feel perfect. In one case I was hoping to do an exciting and special meal but I couldn’t find one key ingredient. As we scooped chili into our bowls and just enjoyed each other’s company, I was reminded that it was never about the meal to begin with. It is always only ever about the relationships, really. Loving and blessing and building each other up — aren’t these the right reasons for coming together?
Then again a few days later — I extended an invitation at the last minute, it was just on my heart to do it. And when our guest commented on how beautiful the salad was, I smiled on the outside and on the inside. I didn’t feel like I’d taken the time to go to special efforts I would’ve liked for a new guest — but we ate together and by the end of the evening our hearts were full, and I pray that she left knowing how very welcome she is in our lives, already so present and welcome in my heart.
And this is the thing about all relationships — it’s not real if it’s not messy.
When another friend of mine joined me for coffee the other morning, her little ones and my little one played together while the Bear was at preschool. She brought along a coffee cake and my only goal for the morning was accomplished — I deeply wanted to ask the question How are you doing? in a way that would give her an opportunity to share her heart, tell the truth, and know how much I care. To me, that was what mattered most.
A few hours (maybe a day) after she left, I spotted some crumbs around the table from where her girls had enjoyed coffee cake and I smiled, inside and out again. Those, I thought, are beautiful, wonderful crumbs — the results of choosing to live life together, knowing it will always be more messy if we try to live together, but it will always be better to take the risk of messy, for the sake of the together part.
There are some times in life when it’s good to wait for the right timing. My Mom likes to say “When the apple is ripe, it’ll drop.” But we need the wisdom and discernment to recognize those times in life where we are leaning on the illusion that there will be perfect timing as an excuse to put off doing something that needs doing.
My house is not in a particularly tidy state, and it doesn’t really look how I want it to. My kitchen is small and messy and some of my favorite bowls have big chips. But the thing that is really making this place a home, a place I want to be, and a place I want others to be, is the decision that relationships are more important than holding out for the illusion of perfection. Making sure the people around you know they are loved and welcomed and important is a much more valuable use of your time than scouring Pinterest for ideas that you’d like to implement when that perfect timing finally arrives.
The Bible puts it this way:
Where no oxen are, the trough is clean, but much increase comes by the strength of an ox. {Prov. 14:4}
So, if you want to keep your stables clean, you don’t want an ox in your barn — but if you want an abundant harvest, you’re going to need that ox to pull for you. Translation: The messiness? It’s worth it.
It’s good to let people see the real you, and not just the you that you’ve had the perfect amount of time to put together and get ready for them to see. From the life-changing decision some women face when they’re pregnant and don’t want to be yet, to the simple question of whether to have some folks over for dinner, the principle is the same: Life is messy and always will be. Don’t be fooled into thinking you ought to wait for perfect timing.
And don’t let the opportunity to love those around you pass you by because you were busy waiting for conditions to be just right. Like when Jesus stopped on His way to a sick Lazarus, because other ministry was tugging at his coattails, sometimes, when things absolutely don’t look like the right timing to us, they are absolutely perfect timing in the will of God.
xCC
Remember: Don’t confuse the urgent and the important!
Sep 18, 2012 | The Good Word
It’s my birthday today. {Yay for me!} And it has been a really wonderful day. Thirty-one years ago today, about five minutes down the road from where I sit typing these words out, I arrived as quick as a hiccough, before the doctor could get there to deliver me. And it’s funny, how these things come together, another arrival happened, just one year ago yesterday, the beginning of a lesson that was a long time coming.
It was a year ago yesterday when we arrived back in North Carolina, after (for me) six years of calling somewhere other than the USA home. And this past year has been a big part of the process for me, of putting together some thoughts about life, and coming to a place where I can start a blog post by telling you my age and not feeling insecure about it.
{Did I ever show you last year’s birthday cake? Wasn’t that epic?}
It’s taken me this whole year, re-settling back into the States, to get to a place where I’ve been able to really feel content with my life at the moment. I think we thought some things would be different once we got back. I think we thought that our move would mean we’d be leaving some of our struggles behind — and while maybe we did, I guess we picked up some new ones. Or just found the same old struggles, reborn.
You might remember me sharing that I did some hiding before admitting that.
The funny thing is, you would think someone moving back to the USA from a part of the world where poverty is a constant reality, visually reinforced on a regular basis, would not struggle with contentment. But the problem with contentment is it’s an elusive creature. And if you tend to give a listening ear to self-pity, contentment will remain elusive for you.
I commented to someone the other day that when I left the States, TV’s were “this big” {holding my hands just wider than shoulder-width apart} and when I returned, TVs were “this big” {holding my hands out about as far apart as they will go.} It seems like while I was gone, the unstoppable quest for the newest, latest, biggest and greatest suddenly escalated. Like how Apple recently announced the upcoming arrival of the iPhone5, and pre-orders reached 2 million within the first 24 hours.
We’ve never been big on chasing the dream of the latest and greatest — we generally welcome new technology because we know it means there will be a price-cut on the older version, and then we’ll consider that…after six months maybe if we really think we could use it.
But it’s hard to remember the unseen — the poverty that now seems half a world away — when what we see is the neighbours with the huge white house and the picket fence, the perfectly manicured lawn and the gorgeous car in the driveway.
In the Lord’s perfect timing, however, a strange combination of hope, a new season of Bible studies, a well-timed read of the book Kisses from Katie
, and a nice wave of the nesting instinct recently combined to take me from a place of hopeless complacency with my present surroundings, to hopeful creativity and even hard work toward the improvement of the things that are in my power to change about my life, and more specifically, my home. It has also taken me to a place of getting a lot more comfortable with the things that aren’t in my control, more trusting about the God who actually is in control.
And here’s the honest truth I think I’ve learned about the whole gig: If you cannot be content with your life today, it is unlikely that you will be content with your life tomorrow.
Here’s an example. I’ve lived in some really beautiful places — neighbourhoods where the views made me stop and take a breath almost every day, mist coming in off of the sea outside my door, mountains in almost every direction, and people whose biggest concern was the decision about which boat to take out on the water for the weekend — but I always felt awkward about living there. Our tight finances hindered my joy, the loneliness of the season heavied my heart, the way we were handled by some of our co-labourers in the Gospel eclipsed the goodness of the labour. In some ways, I failed to receive the blessings that season held for me, because I was too focused on the shortcomings of it and my fears about how our circumstances were perceived by others.
What did I need to learn there? More than anything else, I think trust. Trust that the boundary lines had fallen to me in pleasant places, and that the highs and the lows were both inside God’s sovereignty. Trust that God would provide even when we weren’t sure how it was going to come together. More than anything else I need to learn thankfulness, because even when things were hard, I still had a thousand reasons each day to give glory to God for my life.
And that’s the secret that Paul talked about in that letter to the Philippians — he had learned how to be abased, and how to abound. “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.” {Phil. 4:12-13}
I was ridiculously blessed by my friends and church family at a baby shower this weekend. I was treated in a spectacular fashion by family near and far today. {And that included starting the day with bacon!} But in the glorious goodness of God — I think I might, by His help, be learning to find my way to a place where I could actually still be content if things had not been oh-so-spectacular. That isn’t to say that I’m not thankful for the many gifts, the words of kindness that poured in from around the world, and the love I received from the people I love the most. {I love love, and being loved. You too, right?}
But what if what the Lord wants to help us all learn is actually that He is all we need — and rather than finding contentment in the knowledge that our lives seem pretty good in comparison to some others and at least we are not here or there — it could come from this other place? What if this other place is a place where our contentment isn’t in what we have, but in Who we have, and Who we belong to?
If the firstborn over all creation chose me, reconciled me to God, and qualified me to inherit the goodness God had in mind for us from the beginning of creation… could this knowledge be enough to help me find contentment in every circumstance? Could that be the secret Paul learned? He wrote to the Colossians:
We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. {Col. 1:9b – 14}
I’m thankful to close by saying I’ve had a very Happy Birthday — but it feels good to even consider the possibility that I could just be thankful that I was born with the privilege of getting to know Jesus in front of me, that morning when I arrived in a hurry thirty-one years ago. And maybe that could be enough of a thought for thankfulness to make every birthday a happy one, and every day in between, no matter my circumstances — for as many birthdays as I still have ahead of me.
Because He is just that good.
xCC
Sep 10, 2012 | Quiver Tree Photography
Hi Guys and Gals! I know this little post only applies to those of you who are local, but I thought I ought to let you local readers know that we’ve just announced the dates of the fall mini-sessions by Quiver Tree Photography. The slots might fill up quickly…and I want you guys to hear about it first! Because I love you. {And y’all! The price is really good!}
On Oct. 27th & Nov. 24th, the Hubs will be geared up and ready to shoot an afternoon away at one picturesque outdoorsy location in Washington, NC. You will show up with your crew for your 25 minute shoot, and within two weeks, get a disc of the 30 best images in color (+30 black & white = 60 total!) and {ka-chow!} now you have photos for Christmas cards and gifts for the grandparents/wife/second cousin’s third grade teacher SORTED!
You can find out more about the sessions on the Quiver Tree Photography Blog — or if you know you want to book you can go ahead and email me at ccollie@quivertreephoto.com. {The slots will be every half hour between 2 and 5 pm on each date.}
We can’t wait to see you on the other side of our lenses this fall! And the slots are likely to go quickly, so get in touch soon!
xCC
Sep 9, 2012 | The Good Word
Watching the Olympics last month — and especially swimming — brought back a lot of wonderful memories for me. Although I was never an Olympic hopeful, I enjoyed competing as a swimmer, and loved getting up on the blocks and getting ready for a race. (The shorter the race, the better.) I wept this year as I watched Nick Le Clos, from South Africa, take the gold in the 200 Fly. Although I was a little sorry for Michael Phelps that at the time it seemed like this Olympics wasn’t going quite as well as I imagine he’d hoped, I knew that that gold medal meant the world to Le Clos, and meant so much for South African swimming, and for South Africa as a nation.
I watched Le Clos’s Dad pulling the country’s flag over his head to hide his tears, and I can hardly hold back the tears right now just typing and thinking about it! (I am pregnant, you know.)
{The Hubs was actually an Olympic hopeful/swam internationally for South Africa… me on the other hand…}
Early in the season, one of my last years swimming in high school, there’s a race that I specifically remember, but not because I stood on a podium for it. That summer, my best friend and I had bought matching anklets — ya know, we were in high school — just simple little hemp circles with a few small beads woven through them. I’d gotten so used to wearing mine and not taking it off, I completely forgot that I was wearing it when it was time to climb up onto the starting blocks.
One of the gentleman officiating the race noticed my anklet just before I got on the blocks and immediately disqualified me. (You weren’t allowed to wear jewelry.) I apologized profusely and quickly took it off and passed it to a teammate, and there was still time for me to mount the blocks before the race began. I begged him to let me race, but his decision was final — I could compete in the rest of the meet, but I was not going to be allowed to swim that race, because I’d shown up with an anklet when I shouldn’t have been wearing one.
I was extremely disappointed. My coach was rather annoyed with me. I longed desperately for this official to overlook my mistake — surely he could have seen that I’d immediately remedied my mistake, I wasn’t delaying the race, I was ready to go and so badly wanted to…??? I was so sorry I’d made a mistake, and I truly, deeply longed for grace.
It’s funny to look back and remember that it would’ve meant so much to me to have received a little grace that day. It wasn’t a major race, a major competition, a major loss, but I absolutely loved to swim, loved to compete, loved the event that I’d just missed the chance to compete in, and just regretted missing out because of a little mess-up. (I probably cost my team a few missed points as a result, too.)
The other day when I was struggling — just before the reminder that Jesus Says Come sunk in — I realized that there was a part of me that was only interested in certain types of grace. Hopefully you’re nothing like me, but you might be and then this will make sense to you.
Sometimes I don’t want grace because I would rather just get it right. I don’t want to make mistakes, raise my voice at my children, choose sleeping in over seeking first, allow a mild frustration to bring me to a discontented grumpiness that hangs a scratchy dusty cloud over my head for an entire day like a character from the Peanuts comic strip.
But that happens.
I hit the snooze and roll over and start the day in a confused mess {I just don’t do well when I decide to let my children be my alarm clock on a weekday}. The grumpy cloud hovers. A bug falls out of the cupboard and gives me a fright and my whole self clenches bothered and the Bear calls from the other room to ask why I just growled really loud. That one stinking bill I forgot to pay results in a happy little message in my inbox notifying me of an absolute-waste-of-money late fee. I forgot that I needed to run out for milk last night after the kids went to bed and oh man — can I just go back to bed?
The cloud hovers.
And I am absolutely cognizant — the thought is never very far away — that still, my attitude is my choice. And Jesus says come. And His mercies are new every morning.
His is Amazing Grace.
But I don’t want grace. I want to get it right by myself. I’ll take the grace to get on the starting blocks and swim the race I want to swim. But I don’t want the grace that requires me to just learn to let go, embrace my fragile humanity and glorify the Lord who loves me anyway. Accepts me anyway. Could’ve made me another way, but didn’t.
We know that God sent Jesus out of love — people who’ve never opened a Bible still have an idea that John 3:16 says something about that. But the story of this Amazing Grace keeps going, and gets better — John 3:17 says
“For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.”
From the beginning, it was never really about us getting it all right. An all-knowing God would’ve known right from the start — He created people with free will, and we will each choose our own fruit given the time and the temptation. And the planned response was never condemnation, from the start when He looked for Adam and Eve in the garden, He made a sacrifice to clothe them, as if to say Forget the fig leaves — I will cover you. I want to show you grace.
Are you sewing fig leaves these days? Trying to walk out life free from error and on your own terms? Could I encourage you to embrace the grace that is yours for the taking? I’m trying to let go and receive it — and when I do, these life -giving reminders whisper joy to my soul: You are loved and welcomed. When you hide, He looks for you.
The longer I live, the more amazing it becomes: this freely given, but oh-so-costly gift, Grace.
It’s ours for the taking.
xCC
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