celebrating the small things (week 2)

Show me where to go and what steps to take. Make the path known for my life. Grant me wisdom and discernment to decide how to move forward and when to skip to the side. Those words tumble off my lips and flood my mind to any given day. I consider which way I might skip and if now is the time to step out in faith. I concentrate on the dreams I have - dreams that are not ready to become reality - and lose focus on the here and the now.

It usually happens that I think I know. It feels right. Everything is in line, and yes, this is the direction I need to move.

Suddenly the door that was once open is shut, and there is no window to peak through. So much time was spent considering the possibility and what I knew would happen - what I felt should happen - that I didn't stop to think about how it might not happen.

I know this about myself. This need to plan and understand the possibilities I want to have happen. There's always a fear that by wanting something I will make it so it will not happen. By planning, it's almost as if I am guaranteed to have things go completely the opposite direction.

There's always a bit of light, peaking through the bottom of the door like the cold air slinks into our house through the crack between the front door and the wood floors. Sometimes I see the light and move closer to it, feeling the warmth and understanding that there is always a way. Other times I notice only the cold and forget that God is there in those moments too.

I think I know what He has called me to, and then I wonder at the same time. As much as I plan, there is beauty and grace and hope found in all of these unknowns. And there's a choice. Do I step where I think I should step or do I step into the places I fear - the places that are not a guaranteed success?

The idea came to me last week. Similar to ideas I've had before but this time it held a strength it's never held before. Pictures and moments in a time that doesn't quite exist yet outside of my mind. A story to tell that is no one's story and yet so many people's story.

So I listened. I listened and imagined and thought about what it could mean. This story that needs to be told. This story that found me and knocked on my heart and asked to be told.

After I listened, I sat. My fingers danced over the keys and the words poured onto the page. A summary. Descriptions of characters. An outline as bare as possible. And then a hope that had been extinguished by the cold air suddenly gaining strength from the light that slips through the crack under the door.

Do this for yourself. Think about the words you want to say. The experiences you've had. The children who deserve a voice. The people who should know. And then do something about it.

So I am.

As this one door that was once closed now opens back up, I see the possibilities. Not just here at a computer telling a story that came to me. But in other aspects of my life. An understanding of why so many doors have been closed and some never even opened. An acceptance of this life and an excitement at all the places it might lead.

But I know to be careful. To keep my hands open but my eyes shut. I need to feel how to get there and not to walk the paths I think are right but might really be wrong. It's time to trust and to breathe and to allow these moments in time to turn into more than I could have ever dreamed of.

I am just a vessel. This life of mine will be a wisp of smoke so quickly gone. But this story, and any other stories that might come after it, can live on longer.

celebrating the small things (week 1)

We moved into our house in January 2009. After six months of living in a small, old apartment and listening to our neighbors stomp and yell drunkenly. After a scare when we awoke to a fire burning in a building just feet away from our home. After knowing that many of the people living around us were involved in illegal matters.

It wasn't the house I first fell in love with. It was the second house. Tired of searching and ready to have somewhere to turn into a real home. Feeling like this was it. Big, a good price, nestled in an area that was gaining popularity.

It didn't take long for me to fall out of love with the house. To notice the creaks and the widening cracks. To feel the chill that came in through the windows. To know that we took on so much more than we could handle. And to wonder, for nearly three years, why it was that we felt God allowed us to buy this house that was obviously not something we could take care of.

We're still there. And I still cringe at the creaks. I eye all of the cracks. And I wonder how we will make this work. I pray for God to move. For something to happen. And then I wait. I don't do anything to turn the house into the home. I wave off all the kind things others say about the house. Then I point out the flaws. I talk about everything that is wrong and how I don't know how we will fix it all. I worry. And I don't trust.

I want the house to be the home. But until recently, I haven't wanted to do the work.

The temperature is dipping. We've had a few nights of lows in the 20s already. And I know I can't make it through another winter with the frozen air pushing through the windows and stealing any warmth our central heating unit and little space heaters provide.

So I made a choice. I spent the money and purchased curtains. I hung them first in our bedroom. They don't stop all of the cold air, but they help. And with the green and brown hanging over the windows the room was transformed from a dingy space to a bedroom I felt almost glad to call my own.

With a little extra money in our account, and curtains on sale, I spent much of Sunday hanging more curtains. Covering the windows in the dining room, the living room, and the study. Transforming those three rooms from somehwat decorated rooms to completed rooms.

I notice the cracks still. There's worry over how we will make it all work. And the house is still a bit colder than any of us would like. But it's a start. The beginning of taking the house we've lived in for three years and turning it into a home.

I'm not sure what will happen. If we'll be able to afford putting as much money into it as it needs or not. But I do know that, for now, I can use this home God has given me and find things inside of it to be thankful for.