Help! My Phone’s Been Stolen…And My Peace Too!

The other day, I did something stupid. I was grocery shopping. I checked my list which I keep on my phone. Putting my phone back in my purse, I thought, zip your purse.

But I didn’t.

I left my purse in the buggy (that’s Southern for grocery cart) while I looked for chocolate chips.

Seconds later, I reached for my phone.

It wasn’t there. Was it stolen? Did I lose it?

Nooooooooooooo! I need my phone! I love my phone!

My rational self left. Crazy took over.

I squatted on the floor, dumped everything out of my purse, and searched through my groceries like a madwoman.

Calm down. Stop being such a panic button.

I ran to customer service.

“No, ma’am. No one’s turned in a phone.”

Of course not. It was stolen.

I left my groceries, hurried to our service provider, and called the police–the whole time, my word for 2014 softly tapped my heart.

ENOUGH. 

Almost every morning this year, I’d written “God, You’re more than enough for me” in my prayer journal.

What about when someone steals your phone? Or when anything and everything goes wrong?

Is God enough then?

Every few minutes I stopped fretting long enough to pray.

Lord, whether or not I find my phone, You’re more than enough for me.

Each time I prayed my peace returned.

Five hours later after driving to another city for a replacement phone, I received a call.

My phone was turned in at customer service twenty minutes after being stolen. Some kind soul found it in the grocery store parking lot. When I erased my data, the thief probably tossed my phone.

I’d wasted a lot of time hurrying and worrying. But maybe it wasn’t a total waste.

Maybe it was worth the drama to grasp this truth.

No matter what happens, no one can steal our peace.

“You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You…” Isaiah 26:3 NKJV

Can you relate? If you chose a word this year, how’s it going?

Love,

Julie

 

 

 

 

 

Confessions From the Oldest Child of the Scared Family

One of my brothers used to say were the Scared Family. He had a dry sense of humor, and mostly, he was talking about my mother and me. Anything and everything was reason to be afraid. Very afraid.

Easter morning, forty years ago…

Mother’s hair was a little scary looking, don’t you think? And what about her tie?

Seriously, my brother was right.

Most of the things I’ve been afraid of never happened, but I lived through them just the same.

Hospital waiting rooms were particularly scary. But after fifty years, the Scared Family is changing.

Remember when my mother had her  biopsy? My sister made fudge and we had a party. We didn’t do this years ago–combine biopsies with fudge and sunglasses and silliness.

The other day, my sweet step-father Gene fell taking out the trash and broke his hip. After being rushed to the hospital by ambulance, he had surgery. He’s in a rehab facility recuperating.

And look! Mother’s smiling in the waiting room during surgery. FYI, this is not the woman who raised me. :)

I’m sure I’ll have more scary times, but this much I know is true:

Fear doesn’t change the outcome. It’s exhausting, addictive, and leaves no room for good thoughts.

So what’s bringing change to the Scared Family?

1. We’re laughing more.

If there’s anything you can laugh about, laugh.

After surgery, Gene was confused coming out of anesthesia. “Why are we in the hospital?”

“We’re having a baby,” Mother said.

“Oh. Then why am I in the bed?”

“This time you’re doing the work.”

2. Take a break. Do normal things like fold the laundry, go to the grocery  store, or even paint your toenails.

3. Pretend you’re not afraid. It works. Courage becomes real in your heart.

We’re told 365 times in the Bible not to be afraid.

So do not fear, for I am with you…” Isaiah 41:10 NIV.

Have you battled fear too?

Love,

Julie

 

 

 

Clutching Church Pews and Steering Wheels

The other day I was in the car hurrying to go nowhere, thoughts flying all over the place. I’d slipped back into stinking thinking. Into trying to control certain situations. Into assuming I knew better than God.

My worries felt so…

Necessary. Justified.

Deep down, I knew my behavior didn’t match my one word for the year Enoughas in, God is more than enough for me.

And then this song came on the radio. When Matt Maher sang the phrase, “Lord, I need You, oh, I need You, every hour I need You…” I went back to my childhood, to a song we sang in church.

All of a sudden, I’m eight years old again singing,I need Thee every hour” in my shaky voice. My small clammy hands cling to the wooden church pew.

To the illusion of control.

Because even as a little girl, I was afraid to let go.

In my car, my grownup hands clutch the steering wheel like an ambulance driver heading to the next crisis.

And bless Matt’s heart. He just keeps singing…

“Lord, I need You, oh, I need You…”

A soft voice inside says,

Let go. Unclench your fingers.

I stop at a red light and stretch open my hands.

I’m telling you the truth.

In an instant, the sweetest peace filled my car.

Just by loosening my grip on life.

If something (or someone) is weighing you down, take a couple of minutes to listen to this song, watch the pictures, and open your fingers.

I’m praying for you.

Thank You, Lord.

You’re my ONE DEFENCE. MY RIGHTEOUSNESS. OH, GOD, HOW I NEED YOU.

Love,

Julie

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do it Scared

My childhood is different from most people’s. My mother is a writer. She spent her days hunched over the typewriter wearing her bathrobe. When I was ten, she appointed me her editor. I took great pleasure in using a red marker. “Boring. You can do better.”

Here we are at a GUIDEPOSTS writers workshop in 2009.

She called last week. “My writing days are over,” she said with a sigh. “I’m going to become the mother y’all always wanted. I’m going to dust the baseboards and post menus on the refrigerator. I’m even going to learn to sew.”

“You’re not going to be happy.”

“Gene’s going to love it. (Gene’s her husband.) I’m going start using cookbooks.”

“Mother, you’re a writer. You hate directions. And nobody learns to sew at 77.”

“My creativity’s dried up. I have nothing left to say.”

“You taught me to feel a story moving in my heart long before it comes to life, remember? And to love words and books and the rhythm of sentences.”

“Those days are over.”

“You’re afraid to write, aren’t you?”

A long pause formed. “Perhaps.”

“You taught us rejection is part of life. And when we fall, we don’t stay down.” I felt my throat tighten. “And to keep our eyes and God. And to never ever give up.”

“Well, I quit.”

“Who am I supposed to call when I need the perfect adjective?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Two days she called. “Can I read you something? I’ve wanted to write it for a while, but I lacked the courage.”

“Welcome back. How’d you conquer your fear?”

“I took that first terrifying step. I typed the first sentence. And then another. And another. God was right there with me.”

“This is bigger than writing, you know.”

“Yep,” she said. “No matter what you face, say ‘Shut up fear.’ And tell your heart, ‘Full steam ahead.’”

Is there something you want to do, but you’re afraid to try? Share it in the comments. That might be your first brave step. We’ll be rooting for you! 

Love,

Julie

 

The Cat in the Hat and Me

The other day my 32-year-old daughter Jamie and I were talking. She told me about a tense situation at work, and I said, “Sort of like the Dr. Seuss book, The Cat in the Hat. Remember?”

“Not really.”

 

“How could you forget Thing One and Thing Two? Everything’s a huge mess after the cat in the hat comes over–little Sally doesn’t know what to do.”

 

 

We changed the subject, but I couldn’t forget the book.

When I was little, The Cat in the Hat scared the doo-wah-ditty out of me. Maybe because I was the oldest child, and I had hyperactive twin brothers.

 

 

Every time I read The Cat in the Hat, I’d think…

Sally, be careful. Lock the door. Don’t let that cat inside. He’s going to mess everything up!

And what about the poor fish?

He nearly dies!

Which would have been all Sally’s fault.

She’s doing everything she can to keep things under control, but nothing’s working.

What a nightmare!

And just when you think things can’t get any worse…

The edge of her mother’s black pointy shoe comes toward the front door.

My heart lurches.

OH, GOOD GRIEF. THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I’M AN ADULT NOW.

But this book…why does it still get to me?

Over the next few days, the answer came.

It ties into SURRENDER . :-)

Little Sally may be in charge, but she’s not in control.

God is.

Now I picture her laughing, eating popcorn, and enjoying the show.

When Sally finally realizes it isn’t her job to control life, boy, does she have fun!

Love,

Julie/Sally

*Pictures from Flickr Danxoneil and Danxoneil

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God and Me … and My Husband’s Screwdrivers

Friday, I’d worked myself into a jam–literally. Early that morning, I gathered my courage and decided to replace my veneer office desk with an old oak table. I woke up thinking, today’s the day. With God’s help, I can re-do my office without asking Mr. Fix-It (my husband) to help me. But the desk had lots of screws, and I’m not mechanically inclined.

The week before, I couldn’t unscrew the kitchen soap dispenser to refill it. Mr. Fix-It had to do it.

Paying close attention, I said, “Does everything unscrew in the same direction?”

“Yep. Righty-tight-y, lefty-loose-y.”

“Always?”

“Unless you’re working on the driver’s side wheels of an old MOPAR.”

So Friday morning, I scrounged up three screwdrivers, knelt beside my desk, and whispered, “Righty-tight-y, lefty-loose-y.”

But none of the screwdrivers fit. Mr. Fix-It has plenty of power tools, but I don’t know how to use them.

Maybe I can bounce the desk down 13 steps.

But it got wedged in the hallway.

Great. Now look what I’ve done.

Pray.

About a stuck desk?

God, You made the whole world. Will You help me out of this mess?

Logical thoughts came.

Move it an inch to the right.

Flip it in its side.

Try the t-shaped screwdriver again.

Miraculously, a few screws came loose. I slid the desk in the spare bedroom and tried to drag the oak table toward my office. Same thing happened.

I’m going to be stuck here all day. Or fall down the stairs.

Pray.

Lord, I need You again. Help me.

More sure, strong ideas came.

For someone who’s never used a screwdriver (well, maybe once or twice) this is quite a feat! :-)

Then I celebrated with a tall glass of sweet tea and organized.

Ta-day!

I have this feeling He’s leading me into more adventures with Him. You know, my word for 2013 is FOLLOW.

Is He calling you into something new?

That first step appears impossible. Take it anyway and say, “Help, God.”

Then be still and listen.

Love,

Julie

Party Panic ~ Orange, Purple, and the Power of Prayer!

Party panic has pestered me for years. I thought I’d finally beat it Thanksgiving when I hosted a PERFECTLY IMPERFECT THANKSGIVING and certainly when I blogged about it HERE. But the other day, I was at PARTY CITY shopping for purple and orange wedding shower decorations (bride’s choice) and I felt it creeping back.

My friend Teresa and I were hosting the shower in my home.

I was in charge of decorations.

I had no idea how to decorate with purple and orange. I’m a green and brown person.

Heather, the store manager, spotted me pacing the paper goods aisle. She said not to worry–that she’s decorated for parties at the GOVERNOR’S MANSION! Pretty soon, she had me all set–even demonstrated how to arrange everything.

 

Yay! No party panic this time.

Or so I thought.

Saturday, 3 a.m., the day of the shower, I woke from a deep sleep.

How could I have forgotten?

Nancy’s coming!

When I was growing up, Nancy threw a Christmas Open House gala every year.

She used fine bone china from Ireland.

Her name is all over the church cookbook.

I sat up in bed.

Wait a minute.

I know better than this.

I don’t have to be afraid.

There’s another way to live. 

Lord, help me.

Party panic floated away like a purple balloon, and I went back to sleep. :-)

The next morning when Nancy arrived, I told her about my 3 a.m. fear. We had the best laugh!

Laughter dispelled every ounce of fear, scattering it like confetti.

Gratitude arose…

For my nearly 40-year friendship with Teresa and Lynn.

(Teresa’s in black. Lynn’s in green, the mother of the groom.)

I took time to see–really see–everyone at the party.

Kayla, the bride, all aglow, opening her presents.

 

The wonder of childhood…(bride’s nephew)

The bond between a mother and her daughters…

A new family starting…

Anticipation for the future…(groom’s sis holding bride’s niece)

Party Panic  (or any kind of fear) will take over…

If we let it.

But  there’s another way to live!

“…perfect love casts out fear…” 1 John 4:18 ESV.

Even 3 a.m. fear.

 Love,

Julie

Life (and Writing) are Like My Gardenia Bushes

I have a confession. On Tuesdays before my blog posts went live, I used to wake  up during the middle of the night in a total panic. What if nobody understands? What if I’m the only person who feels this way?

On Wednesday afternoons, I wondered…

What if that’s it? What if my creativity is all used up? What if I don’t have any more ideas? Then what?

Being a type-A person, I decided to write tons of blogs in advance, so I’d be ready.

So I’d be in control.

Ha! I tried, but I couldn’t do it. My mind went blank.

Life (and writing) involve trust.

Ideas (and answers) come gently, like manna from heaven, and usually not until the very last minute.

For instance…

This morning at our PORCH PARTY, I said, “Can you believe the gardenias? Last week there were only a few blooms.”

(Every morning, my husband and I start our day together on the front porch, talking and drinking coffee.)

“Remember the bad snow storm?” I said. “Ice slid off the roof and smashed the bushes flat. I thought they were goners, but look at all the itty-bitty buds! So many, I can’t count them.”

“Guess they’ll bloom when it’s time, won’t they?” my husband said.

I smiled. Simple words. Huge lesson for me.

Sometimes SURRENDER means waiting expectantly on the gardenias to bloom.

“…My ways are higher than yours and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:9 NIV

What are you trusting and waiting for today?

Love,

Julie

Three Sweet Lessons from a Cup of Starbucks Coffee

Last week, my doctor suggested I start giving myself B-12 shots. My blood work revealed a low B-12 level. I’m a medical assistant and have given injections, but never to myself. I knew I could do it, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. That morning, I got a peculiar idea. The thought felt gentle. Warm. And utterly ridiculous.

A certain nurse would be teaching me to give the injections. I have CELIAC DISEASE and whenever I call the doctor with a question, this nurse helps me.

Take her a cup of coffee.

That’s silly. I don’t even know if she likes coffee.

Do it anyway.

What about sugar and cream? I’m not pestering her to find out…

Take the coffee.

I drove past the doctor’s office and turned into STARBUCKS.

This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Even if she likes coffee, I don’t know what kind to get her. Maybe she doesn’t do caffeine. Maybe I should get her hot tea.

Get her your favorite kind.

I ordered two cups of Sumatra.

Signing in at the doctor’s office, I started rambling to the girl behind the counter. “This is for my nurse. She’s been so sweet to me, but I’m not sure if she likes–”

“Are you kidding? She loves Starbucks.”

“What about sugar and cream?”

“She has her own concoction she adds.”

Handing my nurse the coffee, three unexpected things happened:

1. I forgot about myself. My health. My concerns.

2. My nurse became a real person to me. We talked a little about her world. And she loves Sumatra!

3. Learning to give myself shots, I felt no fear–only a big dose of gratitude.

Thank You, God. So many blessings from a cup of coffee.

Can you relate?

Love,

Julie

Living (and Flying!) Fearlessly

For those of you who’ve been trampled by fear, this post is for you. Since I was a little girl, my go-to emotion has been fear. I’ve been afraid of zillions of things. Flying. Public speaking. Failing. Succeeding. Not measuring up. Fear is so exhausting, and it snatches up all the good stuff in life.

For years, flying wore me out. I was convinced it was my job to keep the plane in the air. I’m serious. I sat without moving (didn’t dare want to tip the plane) and kept my muscles rigid. If I relaxed–even for a second–the plane would plummet to the ground. I stared at one spot on my lap, never daring to glance out the window. Too scary. Besides, I had to concentrate. My job was to keep the plane in the air.

Kind of like how I approached life. If it’s to be, it’s up to me.

I didn’t want to let go of my illusion of control.

I’m cringing while I’m typing this… I thought I could do a better job flying the plane than the pilot and God.

But during my SURRENDER process, I began laying down my fears.

There’s really no other way to live–really live, than to let go.

Guess what? I’m not afraid to fly anymore! Zero fear.

Flying home from the GUIDEPOSTS  workshop last weekend, as we approached Atlanta, I had to take a celebration picture. Leaning over my sleeping husband I whispered, “Thank You, Lord. You’re amazing. I’m free. I’m not afraid.”

If anyone is caught in fear, believe me. I understand. Let me know. I’ll pray.

Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. Isaiah 41:10. NAS

Love,

Julie