Gray Hair

I found a gray hair. On my own head. I thought it was the lighting. I thought it was my sleepy eyes.

I carefully parted the suspicious hair from the rest and examined it. I then plucked the obstinate strand and held it under my scrutiny. Gray. Through and through.

Panic. I flung it down. Rebellious, it drifted slowly to the bathroom floor. I scowled, and began searching for more... they hid... sneaking among their obedient brothers.

I snatched at my full head of hair, thinking about the implications. I forget that I won't be young forever. I forget that I will age. I forget that this is the best it's ever going to be... and that charm and beauty are fleeting. Of course I know people age. But I forget it will happen to me.

So I begin to wrestle (am wrestling). I'm not going to be here forever. My time is limited. Who am I? How will I use this breath of life I have been given?

I desire to be someone characterized by inner beauty. That even when I'm as wrinkled as a withered prune, when my head is full of gray hairs... my character, wisdom, and joy shine through...

Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

                                                                                      -Prov. 31:30

Beef Jerky

Sharing a bag of beef jerky with friends is one of my favorite things. It's a rare treat, but I always love it. I love that I can't shove the whole thing in my mouth at once. I must gnaw at it, slowly softening it into meaty juices. It cannot be eaten quickly... it must be digested slowly. Deliberately.

Sometimes my jaws ache afterward, and I long for processed meats. But the jerky leaves far greater satisfaction. Sometimes the jerky sticks. It sticks in my teeth and irritates me. It almost makes me wish I hadn't eaten it. Except I recall the powerful flavor that covers my tongue... and I want another.

I've been reading a book a week, and I am overwhelmed with the sheer amount I'm learning. It's dense like jerky, and I have to chew and gnaw on these ideas in order to understand them. It's satisfying.
But I feel overwhelmed.... like shoving too much jerky in my mouth at once... trying to gnaw through the dense, meaty flavor,

making my jaws ache.
my mind ache.
my heart ache.

Sometimes I wish I could send away these thick thoughts and exchange them for finer, lighter ones. But then I would miss the astonishing discoveries that fill me with awe and joy. Sometimes the thoughts stick and hang around long after I've closed the book. They haunt my days: from the moment my eyes blink open until the time they droop closed. Sometimes I get annoyed. I want to move on to the next bite of jerky, instead of having the old bits dangle around... irritating, agonizing... forcing me to deal with them. And then I do.

The freedom of removing the tenacious bits of jerky that hang in the crevices of my mind! The relief of finally understanding. I'm getting ready for the next big bite.

Humble Pie

Be careful what you pray for.

I've been told that before. Not because God's some kind of stickler, eager to pounce on a misplaced word. But because often times my mouth and my heart aren't in line. My mouth prays words that my heart isn't ready for. Yet.

And so I've been praying, "God, show me my sin. Humble me." It's easy to say. But is my heart truly in it? Is my heart truly in this prayer.... or am I just saying it because it sounds good to say?

I know humility is good. I know it's what I want. I know pride blinds me to my faults, and breaks apart my relationships. I know pride is ugly, and the root of my bad attitude. But breaking that pride is painful.

I think sometimes we don't even realize what we're praying for. And it's good... because if we truly knew what it would entail, we would never have prayed for it.

So. The past few weeks I have been eating "humble pie." And it tastes awful. It makes my stomach turn, and goes against everything I desire. And yet, it's somehow everything I desire. I'm tired of being blinded by my pride. I'm tired of looking down on others and judging them. I'm tired of lashing out at those who criticize me. I'm tired of thinking I'm capable of everything. These weeks have broken me.

And as I sink to my knees, appalled at my heart, my pride, and my wretchedness, grace surrounds me. It whispers encouragement. It lifts up my head. There is hope, even in my brokenness.

"God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble." -James 4:6

40 Days of Service

If you know me beyond the surface, you probably know that I really dislike serving people. I love when other people choose to serve me... but when it comes to repaying the favor, I definitely shirk my responsibilities. I've talked about this before, and yet my heart is still unwilling. So unwilling to serve.

It's this ugliness in me that has prompted me to focus on service this lenten season. (Side note: I don't do lent because I feel the need to be legalistic. I do it in order to prepare my heart for Easter... to train discipline in myself... to learn to value things that I often ignore in the busyness of all the other 325 days of the year.) So. Here are my findings after 40 days of focus on service, attempting to go out of my way to serve people at least once a day, the more disruptive of my own life the better:

• I often rationalized with myself, telling myself that service was "taking someone's plate up to the alpha conveyor belt." After attempting to use this trick over four times I was irritated with my laziness and lack of creativity in designing very lame service projects for myself

• The more disruptive the project was and the more time it took up from my own life, the worse my attitude was about it... until it was fully completed... and then I was filled with joy and couldn't wait to serve again.

• Serving with others was always infinitely more enjoyable than serving by myself.

• It's one thing to serve and be seen, it's another entirely different thing to serve without recognition. I was frequently overwhelmed by my selfish need to be recognized by others when it came to service.

• As the days progressed, my eyes were a lot more open to need. I began to realize needs right in front of me that normally I brushed right by, saying that I didn't have time. While it's easy for blindness and oblivion to take over once again, hopefully this lesson will stay learned and will not need to be learned again.

• I realized how much I expected others to do for me, and (sadly) how surprised they were when I did something for them in return. That hurt.

• I found myself continually wrestling with my attitude and facade I put up for others to view. I love to put up a front that says "I have a humble heart. I do what no one else wants to do and I do it willingly." and underneath, I'm clearly making a scene shouting "look at me! recognize me! look how good I am!"

• The true test of the heart of service is when no one is looking, when no one will know, to what extent will I serve? The truth hurts. 

I am by no means an expert on service. In fact if anything, these 40 days have showed me my terrible shortcomings. They have humbled me and have shocked me as I have explored the depths of my heart and have come up repulsed by the selfishness and pride that live in it.

I am thankful for Easter, and for knowing that my Savior died and rose again to set me free from pride, selfishness, and laziness! It's through Him alone that I have freedom.