Fear…Get ‘Cha Gone!

This quote is why I blog: “A wonderfully nurturing atmosphere is created when people help other people by being themselves and sharing their own experiences.” Courage to Change–One Day at a time in Al-Anon II

It reminds me of my friendship with Peggy Frezon. Peggy lives in New York and I’m in Georgia, so we only get to see each other at Guideposts’ writers workshops, like this past weekend in Vero Beach

 

Peggy and I battle The Fear Monster. Sometimes she says, “Fear! Get ‘Cha Gone!”

If the two of us gave in to our fears, we’d stay home in our closets. The things that scare Peggy aren’t frightening to me. And vice-versa.

But Fear is Fear. And it doesn’t play nice. 

Peggy’s afraid to travel.

She rode to a Guideposts workshop in 2004 with a jacket over her head. Her husband was driving. She’s afraid of elevators. And flying (at least right now).

But we’re on our way to becoming fearless!

Her husband  rode the train with her from New York to Vero Beach, Florida. They rented a car for part of the trip. She sat in back seat holding Jesus Calling.

I brought Jesus Calling to Vero Beach, too. Not because I’m afraid to travel.

I’m afraid of rejection.

Of being judged. 

Of not measuring up. 

I’d submitted another story about my depression. I wrote about it here years ago. The group would be discussing my story (my second clinical depression!) at the workshop.

The root of my fear?

Pride. What’ll they think of me?

But guess what?

Nothing I was afraid of happened. 

No one judged me!

No condemnation!

After the trip, Peggy and I emailed each other:

“I think God’s calling us to dip our toes into the water,” I wrote. “To go deeper with Him.”

“Look at the pictures I just texted you!” she wrote. “I took them right before we left!”

Peggy at the ocean. 

One step closer.  

Then another.

Peggy’s so courageous–traveling  from New York to Florida. She captured the moment on video–the same kind of joy I experienced when I wrote the truth and no one rejected me. 

If you can’t see the video below, click here

And then Sunday we sang this song at church. A certain phrase won’t let me go.

“And You call me, deeper still…”

If you can’t see the video below, click here.

Do you fight The Mean Fear Monster too?

Maybe God’s calling us to go deeper.

I pray this post helps.

Love,

Julie (and Peggy) 🙂

 

Our Creative Best–What if?

When our son Thomas was fifteen, he stopped showing me things that impressed him. He’s twenty-three now, and a couple of years ago, he said, “Mom, come here. You gotta see this.”

I hightailed it up the steps.

He was in my office watching a video. “This guy’s incredible. Look.”

(If you can’t see the video below, click here.)

Bending over Thomas’s shoulder, I studied the guitarist. He was young. Amazing. Played from his heart.

I remembered Thomas and his first guitar.

Tiny tears came.

Happy tears.

Around the time we watched the video, Thomas started playing the guitar again.

Wonder why when I see someone doing his or her creative best, it lights a fire in me?

My husband Rick’s passion is cars. The other night, he was watching TV. I was reading.

“Wow,” Rick said. “Look at this.”

(If you can’t see the video below, click here. It’s less than a minute long.)

Watching Chip Foose draw, I spotted the fascinating tools in his office. Markers, brushes, pencils.

Did he draw as a child? 

I thought about my own office, my clothesline full of characters. Sometimes I talk to them.

I ask about their lives. What brings them hope? What inspires them?

And I absolutely love notebooks and colored pens. If I don’t have any paper, a chewing gum wrapper will do.

My attraction to words started when I was young.

I’m eight, reading a Redbook magazine.

I’ve been thinking.

Surely God inspired passion in each of us when we were children.

Maybe it was to knit.

Grow gardens.

Organize stacks of chaos.

Do math problems with ease.

Bake cakes.

Perform science experiments.

Be kind to outsiders.

Sometimes the joys of childhood get buried. We forget what we once loved. 

What if He’s calling us to play from our hearts again?

 “…take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.” Galatians 6:5 The MSG

Love,

Julie

My Beloved Old Blue Chairs

I love seeing old things restored and I adore antiques, so I have no excuse for what happened to my ladder back chairs. After we inherited my grandmother’s antique dining room chairs, I stuck my old blue chairs outside and forgot about them.

Each year, they got a little more worn.

A little less respected.

Kitty Thelma used them for scratching posts.

I tried to ignore them. Made me sorta sad to see them.

One morning this spring, I went antiquing and spotted a pair of gorgeous ladder back chairs. Someone must’ve cared about them.

They’d been restored.

Overwhelming compassion for my old blue chairs enveloped me.

I had to do something about their pitiful plight.

I found a man working there. “Do you know anyone who restores chairs?”

“It’s almost a lost art, but there’s a shop in Maysville, Heritage Chairs. Go see ’em. They’re good people.”

The next Saturday, my husband and I took my chairs to Maysville.

“If I re-cane them, it’s gonna cost you more than they’re worth,” the shop owner said.

I appreciated his honesty, but a fierce protective love rose up in me about my chairs.

“That is,” he said, “unless they’re worth something to you. Then they’re priceless.”

“Oh, they are. I love them.” I ran my fingers over the raggedy cane and looked at my husband.

Can we get them fixed?

“It’s up to you,” he said.

I love you.

A few weeks later, we picked up my chairs. I got all teary-eyed looking at them.

Welcoming them inside our home, I found a special spot for each chair and thought about how God restores us.

Thank You, Lord.

You love us.

Even in our broken condition.

In Your eyes, we are priceless.

P.S. My new favorite song below. It’s all about How He loves us. Listen for the word Surrender. 🙂

Surrender proceeds our own restoration.

Do you love the word RESTORATION too?

Love,

Julie

 

 

 

 

Stop Washing Dishes–You Don’t Want to Miss This

Have you ever been so busy you almost missed something special? Last week, our son Thomas (22) came home while I was doing the supper dishes. “Mom, Sammy’s gonna eat, then we’re gonna play guitars.”

“Hey, Sammy,” I said. “Come on in.”

Sammy’s been teaching Thomas how to “pick” songs on their acoustic guitars. After supper, I figured they’d go down in the basement to practice, like usual.

But they didn’t.

After they ate tacos, Sammy sat in the den strumming his guitar, and I started doing the dishes again. Thomas stood beside me. “Mom,” he whispered. “Sammy’s going to play.”

“Okay. I can hear him from here.”

“You don’t want to miss this,” he said. “Come in the den with us.”

This wasn’t like Thomas. He’s not the kind of son who says, “Mom, come look.” And he’d never invited me to listen to them play.

Until that night.

I glanced at dirty dishes.

I almost reached for an empty Coke can to toss it. Almost rinsed out the sink. Almost scraped one last plate.

You don’t want to miss this. Stop washing dishes.

(Thomas is on the left. Sammy’s on the right.)

I sat down in the red recliner and Sammy looked at Thomas. “What do you want me to play?”

“Play ‘The Old Rugged Cross,” Thomas said.

Oh, me. I had no idea…I almost missed this. Me and my busy self. Doing the dishes.

As Sammy played, God filled the empty space in my busy heart.

He slowed me down.

Reminded me of Who He is.

What if my dirty dishes had been too important? What if winding up the day and getting out of the kitchen had held me?

What if I’d hesitated?

I would’ve missed the Majesty of the moment.

Lord, bless Sammy and Thomas. They still have no idea how they blessed me.

And maybe they blessed you too.

Love,

Julie