Fear, Forgiveness, Trust, and Love

Things I've been mulling over...

If I really believed the things that God tells me; if I really embraced Truth, I wouldn't be selfish anymore. I wouldn't say things to make myself look good in others' opinions, even at someone else's expense. I wouldn't care at all that this Illinois job and plan might not work out. I wouldn't care if I ended up being a janitor until I retired. I wouldn't mind if my boss found a typo in the last quiz I gave. I wouldn't get defensive when a student challenges my explanation of the past perfect tense. Because if I really believed God, really, truly, deep down, it'd be ok with me if people think I'm naive or unimportant or just plain dumb, because I would know that none of that matters. Not really. Not to God.

God loves me, even though __________.

That blank there? That's for you. (and by "you", I also mean "me") Fill it in with whatever you've got.

Your worst sin.

The time you hurt someone. On purpose. And then didn't even feel bad; in fact, were glad you'd done it.

That stuff you stole.

Those lies you told.

That addiction you feed.

Those times you cheated.

Give it your best shot. That blank will hold anything you can throw at it, because it's a God-designed Sin Black Hole. We call it forgiveness. The real problem is that once you see how horrible you are, it's hard to believe how incredibly GOOD God is. Our own fallen nature predisposes us to doubt God.

But take a minute to allow yourself the joy of thinking about what your life would be like if you could really, truly trust God to be who He is. If we could let go of the fear and live in the freedom of unconditional Love. If we passed out that unconditional Love to everyone we came across, because we knew it would never run out. If we let true Love cast out the fears in our lives and replace them with trust.

Imagine with me. And then ask with me. Ask God to show you the fear in your life, and to reveal the roots that hold it deep in your heart. Then get your work gloves on and start digging. You can't just get rid of the fear; it'll grow back. You have to start with the roots. Like dandelions. Trusting God will kill the roots. Also like dandelions, one try won't take care of the whole problem. Today you will allow God to cast out your fears, but you'll see them again. The seeds are still around. But the more often you let trust in God kill the roots of fear, the less fear will grow back. And eventually you'll be in the habit of trusting. The fear will become the exception.

Because God is Love, and there is no fear in love. Perfect love drives out fear. 1 John 4.

I'm going to try to let God's perfect love cast the fear out of my life. I hope you will join me.

A Visit to Farm and Fleet

Today I was supposed to go with a group of students and staff from work on a visit to a local apple orchard. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but the short version is that I couldn't find the group and missed the trip. Alas.

But the up side to this misfortune was that suddenly I had the whole day free. I went home and finished grading quizzes, talked to my awesome friend, Josie, and then decided to go to the DeKalb Public Library to get my card and check out the lay of the land, and then go to find a padlock.

Yah, I need a padlock. Doesn't that seem like an item that I would have acquired at some point in life? But as it turns out, nope. I don't have any padlocks. I needed one to secure my storage space in the basement of my new apartment building, and though I considered picking one up at Wal-Mart, I opted for taking the retail version of the scenic route. On my first day here I got lost and saw Blain's Farm and Fleet in the process.

At the time it struck me with feelings that a huge store usually does not- warm fuzzies. Maybe it was the word "farm" in the name. Or maybe the multiple American flags out front? Not sure. But whatever the cause, the result was that "down home" feeling that I love so much. I get the same feeling when I sit in the poultry barn at the Allen County Fair, sweltering in the late-August heat, breathing in air that smells like chickens and sweat and fried food, and recognizing half of the people in the uncomfortable bleacher seats while I wait to hear how my niece's 4-H project chickens placed. It feels like home, only better because I've had not-home now, so I appreciate home more.

Anyway, when I decided to get the lock, I also decided to go back to the F&F. I don't think I've ever been to one of these stores, but I was expecting cross between a TSC (Tractor Supply Company, for the city-slickers among us) and a Home Depot. And I was not disappointed. I even took some pictures to document my journey.

As I entered the store, this sign greeted me:

Ah, yes, I thought to myself. This is going to be good. Nothing like a store that actually sells worms and grubs. That's country right there.

Armed with the thought that live bait was, in fact, within my reach, should I suddenly be overwhelmed with the urge to fish, I continued on my journey of discovery. Check this out:

Livestock Handling. Chuckling to myself at the memory of one of my city-friends telling me that she was afraid of cows, (which I find hilarious because my own experience with cows has been that they're pretty laid back creatures}, I snapped a shot. It was just a little awkward, with that guy in the shot. Maybe he was flattered. I'm just going to assume that he was.

I eventually found myself in the kids' area, where I stumbled upon this delightful item: baby-sized Carharts! You may remember my fondness for Carharts from a previous post. But I don't think I'd ever seen such a tiny version, and being a woman, I found the tiny version just precious. And worthy of another picture.

See the tiny little logo patch?!?

And close to the mini-carhart section, I found these hee-larious little girl spades. Cause when you teach your daughter how to work in the garden, she'll probably be more excited about the whole thing if her tools are emblazened with the picture of a Disney princess. I get it.

And now the wrench picture. I had to take this one because it made me think of my Dad, as did many things in this store. The whole experience reminded me of Saturday afternoons in middle school and early high school, when I would occasionally accompany Dad to TSC or some obscure hardware store, tucked into an ally in Lima, or to a junk yard for part to fix something, or to a John Deere dealer in a neighboring town. If the time was right, we'd listen to Click and Clack on NPR. If you've never had the pleasure, I highly recommend catching an episode or two. They're hee-larious. It's a car show. And I like it. Nuff said.

Oh, so back to the wrenches. When my family helped move me into my apartment, I was found guilty of not owning a wrench. Apparently that is bad. Dad immediately added the offending tools to my list of needed items.

Later that afternoon when we were checking out of Wal-Mart with our two carts of stuff, I saw Dad's solution to my wrench problem. He had bought me not one, not two, but 13 wrenches. I'm not kidding. He got two sets of six each. I'm not sure what the difference is between the two sets, but they're different colors, so I'm assuming there is some difference of significance. And to round it out, he also bought an adjustable wrench, in case my needs were not covered by the other 12 sizes. At the time it seemed like the most wrenches I'd ever seen. But then this afternoon I saw this:

At least he didn't see the need to get me THIS ginormous set. I mean, that set is impresivo, right? Holy cow. Maybe this one's designed for mechanics? Or people who just really, REALLY like tools?

As we close out the conversation on wrenches, I should point out that I've already made use of the wrenches that Dad bought me. I used one to put my new IL license plates on my car. Thanks, Dad!

And what self-respecting store with the word "farm" in the title would think it possible to do business without selling something with the John Deere logo stamped on it? Far be it from Blain's Farm and Fleet to so much as think of such heresy. They're proudly displaying and selling their belief that, true to the hype, nothing runs like a Deere.

And check out this next picture. See? I told you farmers are the hardest working group of people I know. F&F agrees. Upon further reflection, I think that farmers are hard-working thanks to natural selection. Lazy farmers died out long ago.

And here I am, at the end of my journey, proudly displaying my two purchases: the padlock I had originally gone in for, and a timer for my lamp. The friendly, helpful (and cute) sales guy recommended this one. It has different settings for each day of the week! By golly, what'll they think of next?

I'll leave you with one last shot. This is across the street from the store. A Taco Bell and a corn field. If I ever write my own lyrics to the song, "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music, cornfields and Taco Bell will probably make the cut. As will Blain's Farm and Fleet. It gets two thumbs up from me.

Stream of Consciousness Post

-Today my new best friend, Ann at the DMV, allowed me to get my car registered and plated without quite the right document. She did warn me that the IRS might ask for the exact document later on, in which case I should respond. I generally think that responding to the IRS is in my best interest and therefore something I'm likely to do, even without prompting from a gracious public employee. In any case, I prayed for favor before I went in, and I feel quite sure that God decided to acquiesce.

-Does everyone know the word "acquiesce" strictly from its use in Pirates of the Caribbean? Cause I do.

-I had to look up the spelling of the word "acquiesce". French-influenced spelling is dumb.

-It's 9:20pm, and right now I'm listening to loud talking and a loud movie from my neighbor's apartment. I think they have to talk loud cause they have the volume on the 'ol boob tube cranked up so high. On the one hand, I want to go tell them to put a lid on it. On the other, I'm quite happy in the knowledge that there's no mentally unstable person over there, about to come beat on my door and ask me to keep it down.

-One of the side benefits of having things stored in a shed for six years is that it gives you a whole new understand of what mildew can grow on. Wood. Paper. Of course, cloth. Plastic. Yep. Did you know that? Cause I certainly did not know that mildew was capable of surviving a non-porous surface like plastic. Please feel free to believe me and not find out through personal experience. The experience route is gross and a little stinky. Or esteenky, as we would say in spanglish. Eez no good.

-And speaking of Spanish, the guy getting his registration next to me had brought in his bi-lingual translator (aka, his brother or nephew or something), which I enjoyed listening to. In my current world, the foreign language that most often surrounds me is Arabic. Know how much Arabic I know? Here are all the Arabic words that I know:

-After my miraculous procurement of shiny new IL plates, I of course put them on Estelle (my new Honda CR-V) immediately. Well, both because they are pleasingly shiny AND because my temporary plates expire tomorrow. Anyway, in the end I made three trips up and down to my third floor apartment in the process. One for a screwdriver. Another trip for a smaller screwdriver (spatial reasoning is not a strong suite of mine). And finally a third trip for a set of wrenches. Now, how much sense does it make for the dealership to affix the front plate with screws and the back one with bolts? Exactly. None whatsoever.

-My first (and so far, only) DeKalb friend is a Greek woman named Mata. Mata is delightful. She's 57 and here by herself until her hubby finishes closing up shop in Greece and moves here next year. The other day we were driving home from somewhere and I was telling her about how I've really enjoyed discovering the joy of Greek yogurt. I turned to Mata and said, "I just want to thank you personally for Greek yogurt." With a straight face, she replied without missing a beat, in her My-Big-Fat-Greek-Wedding accent, "No problem." I like Mata.

-In reading something online today I ran across the phrase, "tempest in a teapot". It means when something little gets blown up into something big, like making a mountain out of a molehill. I like this phrase. It's very pleasing to the ears.

-Someone next door is singing now. Maybe 'singing' is too generous a term. I hope this isn't going to be a common event. I'm going to find my earplugs and go to bed. 'Night!

Boo for Alone

I know, I know. It's been EONS since I wrote. Practically a decade. You have been neglected, my cyber friend, and you deserve an explanation. Here's why I haven't been writing:

-I didn't have anything to say

-I got a new job and moved three states away and lived in a hotel for a week and then doubted my decision and almost had a nervous breakdown but then after much prayer and a lack of other feasible options decided to stay and hope the job works out. Then I had to find an apartment and start the new job and move in with the help of my awesome family and now I'm about to start my third week of the job and I have several hours of free time in a row for the first time since I left Ohio.

The second reason might be more significant than the first. After all, I don't really have all that much to say now, either, but since I had some time, I thought I'd write anyway.

Even before I moved to take this job, I was worried about being lonely. I hate being lonely, which is a shame cause I'm real good at it. I do it well, and I'm fast. I can get lonely in, ummm, maybe 2 hours. Pretty good, right?

But as I said, I don't like to be lonely. I know that, when they are trying (unsuccessfully) to be helpful, sometimes people tell me, "You can be lonely when you're with people, too." And this is true. But it has been my experience that I'm lonely a LOT more when I'm NOT with people than when I AM with people.

It's been nice that since I've been here I've had visitors three times, and I've gone to visit friends once. But tonight, as my sister drove away from my apartment, I realized something.

Visitors are great. I mean, really awesome. But the bad part about visitors is that they leave. No matter how long they can stay, or how much fun you have with them, they have to leave. And then I'm back to my previous state of aloneness.

I don't want my normal state to be alone. I'm tired of alone. I want people. For better or for worse, I want people. To say hi to. To recap my day with. To share funny student stories with. To eat with. To divide chores with. To watch movies with. To make plans with. I want to share life with people. Life is better shared, don't you think?

Boo for alone.