{This inspired me to just write today. And I'm self-imposing a 5-minute limit. Here goes.}
My friend emailed me yesterday, asking me if I'd heard of the book 7:An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker.
My response to her went something like this:
Oh, LORD. This is about the 47th time this title has repeated to me in the past couple of months. I haven't read it yet, but I know the premise.
I'm pretty sure I'm in a state of avoidance. It's like I know I'm supposed to read it, but I'm too scared of what I'll learn about myself.
(This is the honest, but straight-up, sin-sick Robyn.)
I just finished a book last night, and I need a new one to start. I suppose I should consider this one. Waaaa. (This is me whining about it.)
So that was yesterday, and frankly, I'm not out of the denial phase. I doubt I come out of it anytime soon, either.
Owning the confessions today, people. Owning 'em.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
pant-less love
My flight was an hour delayed last night. The plane landed at 11:30. I crawled into bed around 12:15.
But that did not steal my joy.
It was a pretty day, and I mostly just enjoyed being with people I love to pieces.
We did some traffic-watching. He's just beginning to pick out airplanes, too. The wonder is astounding.
And in a state of cheerful disposition before I left, he did allow me to strap him down for just long enough to snap one photo.
Never mind that he was pant-less.
He still charms me so.
But that did not steal my joy.
This visit to see Little Man was strangely spontaneous, and I would not have had it any other way!
On top of our traditional park visit (Little Man still loves his swinging), we checked out a local zoo, which started off promising ...
... (he looks happy, no?) ...
... but got dicey when the pygmy goats snuggled up a little too closely. This was just before the melt-down ensued.
We made nice by heading to a nearby creamery, for a special treat.
There was some impromptu strumming and humming happening, which gave the grounds a spunky personality.
Even though Carter snacked on Goldfish (he doesn't yet know what he's missing), he did try some of my milkshake. I'm proud that his first taste was some of mine.
It was a pretty day, and I mostly just enjoyed being with people I love to pieces.
We did some traffic-watching. He's just beginning to pick out airplanes, too. The wonder is astounding.
And in a state of cheerful disposition before I left, he did allow me to strap him down for just long enough to snap one photo.
Never mind that he was pant-less.
He still charms me so.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
thankful thursday #127
I'm heading to see a certain somebody tomorrow who, as the temperatures where he lives finally begin to creep into a tolerable range, has found himself enjoying simple pleasures outside.
Like watching traffic.
(What?)
Call me boring, but if I sit next to that child in the green grass, watching trucks and buses drive by for hours, I will be happy and satisfied.
I mean, let's be honest, doing one thing for hours is likely not in his capability repertoire at this point.
But I'll take what I can get, and be grateful to just hug that little guy's neck.
What simple pleasures have you feeling thankful this week? Go on, be grateful!
Like watching traffic.
(What?)
Call me boring, but if I sit next to that child in the green grass, watching trucks and buses drive by for hours, I will be happy and satisfied.
I mean, let's be honest, doing one thing for hours is likely not in his capability repertoire at this point.
But I'll take what I can get, and be grateful to just hug that little guy's neck.
What simple pleasures have you feeling thankful this week? Go on, be grateful!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
on golf and God
God bless anyone even thinking about asking me what the Masters was like. I may or may not have a problem over-sharing about that whole experience.
In one of my recent over-sharing episodes, I was going on incessantly about where we stationed our chairs, and which positions on the course offered the best views of the greens, the fairways, the tee boxes.
As I learned, there's quite a strategy involved in making those decisions, and if you're not accompanied by a seasoned Masters patron, you might not see much golf at all.
I was fortunate to have that luxury, though, and I did see almost every golfer on the course, at one point or another. I saw a lot of solid putts. Some calculated chip shots. Several approach shots flying out of the woods.
But I didn't see any of the glamour, go-down-in-history shots.
You know the ones that ESPN shows over and over and over again, for years? The ones that make the crowds go wild?
Didn't see a one.
And it wasn't because they weren't happening.
Think about this. There are around 90 contenders, playing 18 holes a day, some of those for two days, some for four days, hitting up to ten shots per hole (it happened, sadly). There are a lot of shots happening at Augusta National, over a sweeping expanse of green.
Somewhere hidden in the thousands of ordinary strokes, though, are the miracle shots. And some people get to see them, because they happen to be at the right place, on the right day, watching the right pairing, when that one guy hits the shot that makes history.
I think this is how God's story is told.
It took me a long, long time to understand that the Bible is one big story, made up of a lot of little stories. It's a lot of places, and times, and people -- usually ordinary people, in fact, going about the business of every day living -- that together tell that one, great big story of redemption.
Granted, it's not luck that determines where we settle in to this adventure. I believe God to be intentionally sovereign over the times and places in which he sets every person, and I believe he's capable of performing wonders for any person to experience.
But we won't see every miracle shot.
And not because they're not happening.
He just wants us to know, imagine, trust, and love his story, and be giddy at the invitation to be included in it at all.
In one of my recent over-sharing episodes, I was going on incessantly about where we stationed our chairs, and which positions on the course offered the best views of the greens, the fairways, the tee boxes.
As I learned, there's quite a strategy involved in making those decisions, and if you're not accompanied by a seasoned Masters patron, you might not see much golf at all.
I was fortunate to have that luxury, though, and I did see almost every golfer on the course, at one point or another. I saw a lot of solid putts. Some calculated chip shots. Several approach shots flying out of the woods.
But I didn't see any of the glamour, go-down-in-history shots.
You know the ones that ESPN shows over and over and over again, for years? The ones that make the crowds go wild?
Didn't see a one.
And it wasn't because they weren't happening.
Think about this. There are around 90 contenders, playing 18 holes a day, some of those for two days, some for four days, hitting up to ten shots per hole (it happened, sadly). There are a lot of shots happening at Augusta National, over a sweeping expanse of green.
Somewhere hidden in the thousands of ordinary strokes, though, are the miracle shots. And some people get to see them, because they happen to be at the right place, on the right day, watching the right pairing, when that one guy hits the shot that makes history.
I think this is how God's story is told.
It took me a long, long time to understand that the Bible is one big story, made up of a lot of little stories. It's a lot of places, and times, and people -- usually ordinary people, in fact, going about the business of every day living -- that together tell that one, great big story of redemption.
Granted, it's not luck that determines where we settle in to this adventure. I believe God to be intentionally sovereign over the times and places in which he sets every person, and I believe he's capable of performing wonders for any person to experience.
But we won't see every miracle shot.
And not because they're not happening.
He just wants us to know, imagine, trust, and love his story, and be giddy at the invitation to be included in it at all.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
why everyone should go to the masters
I spent last Saturday and Sunday at the Masters.
I have never swung a golf club in my life (barring putt-putt, of course), and I do not follow the sport. But I do have a bucket list of sporting events, and the Masters was on it.
Needless to say, when the opportunity arose, I snagged it, and I am now qualified to share these reasons why everyone should go to the Masters:
It really is as pretty as they say.
I've been told that grown women remove their shoes, just to feel the green blades of grass at Augusta National underneath their feet, and to see if it's real. That the course looks airbrushed, it's so pristine. And it is. No matter where you look, and from wherever you stand, beauty really does surround you.
The average person will never come closer to my mom's perfect egg salad, than at the Masters.
For my entire life, Mom has absolutely killed the art of egg salad. It was probably my favorite lunchbox staple, and dyed Easter eggs found greater purpose therein. On fresh, soft, white bread? Mm, perfection. And unless you know my mom and ask her to personally prepare some for you, you should go to the Masters and try theirs. It's close.
Sponsors do not hold the power stick.
One of my pet peeves in the modern sports era is the barrage of sponsor signage that detracts from the natural charm of any venue. At the Masters, though, there is not a corporate sponsor to be seen. In fact, even the fountain heads at the concession stands are labeled with a generic "Cola" or "Diet Cola," in the most traditional, serif font. The simplicity and purity of this place is incredible.
It may be the only place in Western civilization where cell phones are prohibited.
Do you remember what it was like to see thousands of people, none of whom are texting, tweeting, Facebook-ing, Instagram-ing, snapping a photo, or Google-ing? I didn't either until the Masters. It was glorious. And so freeing to not feel the technology pull.
Every single person working that event is happy to be there.
The first security guard to check my badge told me to "have a great day on the course." Golf shop attendants assured me that "it's gonna to be a beautiful day out there." Restroom attendants smiled, even as they checked "to be sure my stall was cleaned and the toilet was flushed." (Every time I went in, by the way!) It was a little bit like a sports version of Walt Disney World. It was a happy, happy place.
My expectations for this event were high, and even coming from a career where sporting venues and events are my "normal," those expectations were easily exceeded.
Thanks, Augusta National. You really are all you're cracked up to be.
I have never swung a golf club in my life (barring putt-putt, of course), and I do not follow the sport. But I do have a bucket list of sporting events, and the Masters was on it.
Needless to say, when the opportunity arose, I snagged it, and I am now qualified to share these reasons why everyone should go to the Masters:
It really is as pretty as they say.
I've been told that grown women remove their shoes, just to feel the green blades of grass at Augusta National underneath their feet, and to see if it's real. That the course looks airbrushed, it's so pristine. And it is. No matter where you look, and from wherever you stand, beauty really does surround you.
The average person will never come closer to my mom's perfect egg salad, than at the Masters.
For my entire life, Mom has absolutely killed the art of egg salad. It was probably my favorite lunchbox staple, and dyed Easter eggs found greater purpose therein. On fresh, soft, white bread? Mm, perfection. And unless you know my mom and ask her to personally prepare some for you, you should go to the Masters and try theirs. It's close.
Sponsors do not hold the power stick.
One of my pet peeves in the modern sports era is the barrage of sponsor signage that detracts from the natural charm of any venue. At the Masters, though, there is not a corporate sponsor to be seen. In fact, even the fountain heads at the concession stands are labeled with a generic "Cola" or "Diet Cola," in the most traditional, serif font. The simplicity and purity of this place is incredible.
It may be the only place in Western civilization where cell phones are prohibited.
Do you remember what it was like to see thousands of people, none of whom are texting, tweeting, Facebook-ing, Instagram-ing, snapping a photo, or Google-ing? I didn't either until the Masters. It was glorious. And so freeing to not feel the technology pull.
Every single person working that event is happy to be there.
The first security guard to check my badge told me to "have a great day on the course." Golf shop attendants assured me that "it's gonna to be a beautiful day out there." Restroom attendants smiled, even as they checked "to be sure my stall was cleaned and the toilet was flushed." (Every time I went in, by the way!) It was a little bit like a sports version of Walt Disney World. It was a happy, happy place.
My expectations for this event were high, and even coming from a career where sporting venues and events are my "normal," those expectations were easily exceeded.
Thanks, Augusta National. You really are all you're cracked up to be.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
thankful thursday #126
While I was on my mini-vacation last week, I spent two nights at the folks', because it was sort of an in-between lodging option that didn't cost me anything.
And because I love Mom and Dad, of course.
On this particular vacation, I wore very little jewelry, but for some reason had packed all of it, like I do for every single trip I ever take. It's just a habit.
So my travel jewelry case sat on my dresser for two days, and got very little attention while I was there.
It's no surprise then, that I packed up everything except that darn jewelry case when I left town.
Fortunately I have a super-mom, who mailed it to me the next day. I didn't particularly care how quickly it arrived, but admittedly I was nervous, since the only two pieces of jewelry that mean a hill of beans to me were in that case.
I imagined myself looking like this, hopeful it would arrive safely ...
... and I'm pleased -- and thankful! -- to report that it did arrive, and with no missing pieces.
Did anything special arrive in your mailbox this week that made you thankful? (Let me guess: it wasn't a bill.) Go on, be grateful!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
oh, savannah
“For me, Savannah's resistance to change was its saving grace. The city looked inward, sealed off from the noises and distractions of the world at large. It grew inward, too, and in such a way that its people flourished like hothouse plants tended by an indulgent gardener. The ordinary became extraordinary. Eccentrics thrived. Every nuance and quirk of personality achieved greater brilliance in that lush enclosure than would have been possible anywhere else in the world.”
-- John Berendt, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
I spent three days last week in Savannah. Staying here always makes me nostalgic.
These trees always fool me into thinking their shade is immune to the humidity ...
... which it is not. But gosh, they're pretty.
I love the systematic brilliance that bore these squares.
But I can never keep them straight, or remember which is which.
Shops like these make me imagine the families who've run them for generations.
There's a cathedral downtown that makes me feel like I'm in Europe.
Savannah is absolutely eccentric and quirky, but it is Southern and charming and storied all at the same time.
And more than those things, a piece of my own story came out of that city. That's worthy of a little love, I'd say!
-- John Berendt, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
I spent three days last week in Savannah. Staying here always makes me nostalgic.
These trees always fool me into thinking their shade is immune to the humidity ...
... which it is not. But gosh, they're pretty.
I love the systematic brilliance that bore these squares.
But I can never keep them straight, or remember which is which.
Shops like these make me imagine the families who've run them for generations.
There's a cathedral downtown that makes me feel like I'm in Europe.
Savannah is absolutely eccentric and quirky, but it is Southern and charming and storied all at the same time.
And more than those things, a piece of my own story came out of that city. That's worthy of a little love, I'd say!
Thursday, April 11, 2013
thankful thursday #125
This little getaway I'm on this week has multiple personalities, I tell you.
There's been a little home, a little history, a little adventure, a little reading and relaxing, and more good things to come.
Among all those personalities, though, the one thing this vacation is not, is stressful.
But we booked appointments here for tomorrow anyway ...
... and I'm kinda feeling thankful about it.
Spare me the judgement of over-indulgence and just practice some appreciation, people. Go on, be grateful!
There's been a little home, a little history, a little adventure, a little reading and relaxing, and more good things to come.
Among all those personalities, though, the one thing this vacation is not, is stressful.
But we booked appointments here for tomorrow anyway ...
... and I'm kinda feeling thankful about it.
Spare me the judgement of over-indulgence and just practice some appreciation, people. Go on, be grateful!
Monday, April 8, 2013
hello monday (spring-ing)
There are two things that scream spring to a Georgia Peach:
Hello, special package from our Special Olympians.
We worked with these guys and gals in Kansas City last month,
and they sent us these t-shirts.
I'm so touched by them!
------------------------------------
Hello, road trip.
It's gonna take a long one to get there.
I haven't had my toes in the sand in nearly two years.
I'm long overdue.
Hello, Masters.
Growing up ninety miles from you, I'd say 34 years is a long-enough wait.
I'm ready for every bit of you. Including your pimento cheese sandwiches.
- Savannah, Georgia azaleas in April, and
- The Masters Golf Tournament at Augusta National.
------------------------------------
Hello, special package from our Special Olympians.
We worked with these guys and gals in Kansas City last month,
and they sent us these t-shirts.
I'm so touched by them!
------------------------------------
------------------------------------
Hello, road trip.
It's gonna take a long one to get there.
------------------------------------
Hello, segway!
This is totally happening, so watch out, Savannah.
I'm not even kidding.
Hello, beach.
This is totally happening, so watch out, Savannah.
I'm not even kidding.
------------------------------------
Hello, beach.
I haven't had my toes in the sand in nearly two years.
I'm long overdue.
------------------------------------
Hello, Masters.
Growing up ninety miles from you, I'd say 34 years is a long-enough wait.
I'm ready for every bit of you. Including your pimento cheese sandwiches.
Has spring sprung where you are? Oh, I hope it has! It holds such promise!
Thursday, April 4, 2013
thankful thursday #124
"O Happy Day."
Do you know this song? It's rejoicing over the truth that when we ask for it, Jesus offers forgiveness and washes us clean of our sins.
Deeply important spiritual doctrine.
Do you know why I sang it today?
Let me tell you.
(Not for spiritual reasons.)
I've been told that because of my address change last year, online renewals for my car tag would not be an option. Instead, I'd have to endure hours in line for the DMV at the courthouse. (And not the one where I had the most miraculous DMV experience of my life last year.)
Needless to say, when my renewal notice unexpectedly arrived today, which is my ticketinto the Promised Land right out of the DMV line, I nearly dropped to my knees in gratitude.
I thought that was extreme, though, so I just sang "O Happy Day" instead.
I was, and am, that thankful.
What has you believing it's a happy day today? Go on, be grateful!
Do you know this song? It's rejoicing over the truth that when we ask for it, Jesus offers forgiveness and washes us clean of our sins.
Deeply important spiritual doctrine.
Do you know why I sang it today?
Let me tell you.
(Not for spiritual reasons.)
I've been told that because of my address change last year, online renewals for my car tag would not be an option. Instead, I'd have to endure hours in line for the DMV at the courthouse. (And not the one where I had the most miraculous DMV experience of my life last year.)
Needless to say, when my renewal notice unexpectedly arrived today, which is my ticket
I thought that was extreme, though, so I just sang "O Happy Day" instead.
I was, and am, that thankful.
What has you believing it's a happy day today? Go on, be grateful!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
