Today’s my 15-year Blogaversary!

I Want To, But . . .

There’s this new thing I want to do.

But I don’t know exactly how.

Unknown variables about the project multiply every time I think about it. I’m not sure how much it will cost (in money, in time, in energy). So many things are out of my control.

I’m not sure I have the stamina for the obstacles.

It’s not too late to turn back now, even though I’ve already begun in a small way.

Is there some project you want or need to start, too?

15 Years Earlier

I remember 15 years ago today. I hit the publish button for the first time on a new project I was beginning: a blog I named “Lisa Notes” (originally at Blogspot until I moved here 10 years ago).

• I had no collection of topics to write about.
• I had no followers.
• I had only minimal knowledge about how to even set up a blog.

And I certainly had no idea I’d still be going 15 years later.

If I’d had to decide then that I’d still be writing now, I might not have started.

But I didn’t need to know that then. All I needed to start was a first idea. Which led to a second, a third, and 3,634 ideas later, I’m still writing.

Today Is Our Sweet Spot

We don’t have to predict the future to begin something today. To reduce overwhelm about a whole project, just focus on today.

That’s how I’m handling the project I want to do. Do I have long-term goals about it? Yes. But I don’t have to carry out all those plans today.

Our sweet spot is to do the work we can control today.

Tomorrow will take care of itself, once it becomes today.

* * *

Read more about blogging:

• 14 Reasons to Keep Writing Your Blog

Why do you read blogs? If you write a blog, why?

I get on my hands and knees. I reach under the coffee table. I tip back the recliner to peer underneath. I dig my fingers in the cushions of the rocking chair.

I am looking for scattered M&M’s.

Minutes earlier I’d been holding the candy pieces in one hand, transferring them to a napkin in the other hand. But the napkin slipped, and the M&M’s fell everywhere.

But I’m not trying to find them now for myself.

I need to find them before someone else does.

My youngest grandchild is allergic to dairy. If he found and ate even one M&M, his body would react negatively.

Because of him, I’m viewing chocolate differently these days. When my grandson is at my house, I wait until he’s asleep before I pull out my chocolate chip cookies. Then I wash my hands afterward to remove any trace of dairy.

But it’s been a learning curve.

I sometimes forget how many of our foods are infused with dairy. I often have to double-check ingredient lists at the store and again at home for foods I buy for him. I google more, and ask my daughter more questions (Is this safe for him?). I look up dairy alternatives and keep photos on my phone of the type of milk he can drink.

Is it work? A little. But I do it gladly because I love my grandchild far more than I love any food.

This is how love works.

That’s what I hear Jesus telling his listeners on the mountain: first seek God and justice (the literal interpretation of righteousness), and other things will fall into place.

When Love is first, the rest comes easier.

I finally find every last M&M that I spilled. I throw them all in the garbage. They’ve lost their appeal for me today.

Love trumps even chocolate.

I’m almost finished memorizing Matthew 6:25-34 with my group this summer. This week’s verse is Matthew 6:33: “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Next week is the final verse.

What do you love more than chocolate? Share your thoughts in the comments.

When You Know the Answer

I immediately knew the answer. But if I spoke it aloud, I’d be breaking the rules.

As he handed me the listening stick, the gentleman to my right had asked me this question:

“What’s your next step?”

He had no specific context in mind. So I wanted to tell him my first thought, which was what I had scheduled for the next 3 months about a specific situation. I’m a planner. I love to think ahead, make a list, map out my calendar.

I enjoy knowing well in advance what my next step is.

But the instruction given to us in this Small Group Deep Listening experience was to NOT give our first answer.

We were told to pause, to think a little deeper before answering.

In the second answer, our instructor suggested we might find a more thoughtful, accurate response.

Wait for It . . .

That’s hard to do. Once we have an answer, we typically want to stop thinking. We’re done.

Why hold back if we have a ready-made answer on the tip of our tongue?

Because maybe our first response isn’t always the best one.

I wonder if Jesus had something like this in mind on the day he told his listeners on a mountain to stop being so anxious about what’s for lunch (Matthew 6:31).

He said anybody can waste time worrying about only that (Matthew 6:32).

Maybe Jesus was inviting them to listen deeper, too.

What did they really need? Aside from physical nourishment (which is important, by the way), what was underneath their anxiety about food? Had they been days without food? Did they have food insecurity? Or maybe they were just gluttonous for the next meal (my hand is raised)?

What’s the Real Need?

I often think I know what I need. But often I’m wrong.

I want to ask myself more often, What do I need right now?

Then pause.

And dig a little deeper. What do I really need right now?

Maybe I still won’t know. But maybe I will. And in the clearer awareness, my priorities might change. My strategy to get my need met may change. My ability to meet someone else’s need might change, too.

Awareness increases connection, to ourselves, to others, and to God.

The Second Answer May Be Better

Feeling the listening stick in my hand, I held back my first answer to What’s your next step?

I closed my eyes and thought a little more. My second answer was indeed quite different than the first one had been.

In the pause, my answer became the pause itself. I told my group that my next step is no step. I am meant to stay on this step a little longer. To not move yet. To rest a little longer. To linger in the present.

When it’s time for the next step, I’ll be made aware of it. But for now, my deepest need is to pause from planning next steps.

I’m glad I listened for the second answer.

It feels like the better answer to me.

Our memory verse this week for our Matthew 6 challenge is Matthew 6:32:

“For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.”

Share your thoughts in the comments.

I was feeling a little nervous. All I could see along the interstate was trees and more trees (which I do love, by the way), but my stomach was already growling.

Jeff and I were traveling the roads between Alabama and North Carolina, and I needed a food plan. When I’m on empty, that’s more dangerous than no fuel in the car.

But when you’re in the middle of nowhere, you know your options are limited. What do you do?

You watch for the blue signs.

If you’ve driven on interstates in America since the 1971 Motorist Information Act went into effect, you’ve seen the big blue signs near interstate exits. They let you know that you are near restaurants or hotels or gas stations. They are often called logo signs.

But know that logo signs won’t give you a lot of information. There’s only room for six spots on the typical sign. And the price to get your business on the sign can be costly.

Guidelines vary from state to state, but in Alabama, here are a few of the qualifications for a restaurant to be put on a blue logo sign.

The restaurant . . .

• Must be no more than 2 miles from the Interstate via an all-weather road
• Must operate at twelve continuous hours per day, minimum six days a week
• Must serve at least two meals per day
• Must seat at least twenty people
• Must have restroom facilities suitable for public use, and a public telephone.

Now I’ve never been genuinely, completely hungry. Even on the days when I fast for a colonoscopy, I still eat jello or broth. And I at least know that after a few more hours, I will be able to choose my food again soon.

But I have seen people who have literally been completely out of food. I’ve gotten a call from a young friend who needed food to feed her two children but had nothing in the seedy motel room where she was holed up. I’ve seen people come off the street with nothing but a rolled up garbage bag holding every article of life they own, and none of it is edible.

So when I read this week’s memory verse when Jesus was talking about food, I have to wonder who was in the audience that afternoon.

“Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?'”
Matthew 6:31

Not knowing where your next meal is coming from is enough to make a person anxious.

So how are we to not be anxious, Jesus?

When I’m on the road, I watch for the blue signs. If I drive long enough, I’ll come across some. And that will mean food is around the corner.

But for people who have no access to transportation or money or privilege in this way? Their blue signs look different.

They often are watching for other people. People who can share their own dinner or point them to a food bank or get them on their feet or vote for politicians who care about helping the poor not be poor forever by passing more humane legislation.

If we need help, find the helpers.
If we don’t need help, be the helpers.

Maybe this is how Jesus wanted his love to be spread and for anxiety to lessen.

Live close enough to fellow human beings to hear their stomachs growl—and for them to hear yours. If you have five fish and two loaves, share them with your neighbor. And eat what they share with you.

And if you can’t bring them food or receive their food, at least be or follow their blue sign on the interstate, between the states of need and satisfaction, between here and there.

Jeff spotted the blue sign on Interstate 40 before I did. (I’m sure I had my nose in a book, attempting to distract myself from the rumble in my tummy.) We followed the sign to Arby’s and I got my beloved Beef and Cheddar sandwich on a regular bun.

We are privileged in that particular way. We can afford the travel. We can afford the food.

But not everyone can. Our privileges vary.

May I grow in compassion to care when others’ bellies are empty (or hearts are broken or feet are tired or minds are disturbed). May I grow in responsibility to alleviate hunger in its irregular forms. May I grow in love to do what I can do, whatever it is or however it looks.

I don’t want to be anxious about my next meal.

I don’t want you to have to be either.

Share in the comments.

I’ve been watching for a sign, hoping for a change. A broken relationship ripples far and deep.

But change hasn’t come. It may never come in the way I hope.

The clock ticks on. I feel the pressure of lost time, every day, every season.

I’m out of options. None of my efforts have borne fruit. I feel like giving up.

We all experience losses. Some of them leave bigger holes than others. For the ones that create another Grand Canyon, pain piles into the pit, filling every empty corner.

In those days, when looking backward makes us sadder for what we no longer have, and looking forward brings tears for what is out of reach, we can only show up in today.

Today I notice my breath, in and out. I feel my fingers still typing. I see words on the screen pouring out of my mind, still working. I have breakfast in my belly, clothes in my closet, a partner by my side.

I have provisions. I have purpose. I have people.

This week I’m rememorizing Matthew 6:30 for the Summer Memory Challenge. Here Jesus is urging his followers to know they are loved, that they are cared for.

“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?”

I see the grass in my own “field,” the front and back yard greenery that Jeff just mowed. Yesterday it was taller. Today it is shorter. Tomorrow it will inch higher yet again.

It’s never exactly the same two days in a row.

The only day I see it, feel it, smell it, is today.

I don’t know when or if my big loss will be resolved. I can only know that even if this pain lives alongside me the rest of my days, I’m not abandoned. I have love, I have God, I have grace.

Like the grass of the field, I’m here today. And on some tomorrow, I’ll be gone. Just like everybody else.

But today. Today. On this day in July of 2023, on this chair in this living room on this patch of earth, I’m still breathing, still thinking, still typing. I still matter. So do you.

And we always will.

Share your thoughts in the comments.

I’m doing absolutely nothing to keep it alive.

I don’t water it. I don’t fertilize it. I don’t add extra soil in the spring.

Yet the lantana by my mailbox doesn’t care. By spring each year, it starts all over with fresh green growth. The intricate yellow blooms show up shortly thereafter and remain prolific all summer long.

I like things that bloom without me having to force them.

I need to remember that about myself as well.

When life gets hard, I hunker down inside my head. I try to understand all the details of what’s happening. I journal more. I make lists of new practices to try.

And those things do help.

Outward things help, too. I talk with faithful friends. I read books by experts. I listen to inspiring music.

But the hardest thing for me to add in?

Nothing.

While taking responsibility for ourselves and working hard IS essential and 100% valuable, we don’t always have to push ourselves quite so hard.

This week’s memory verse is encouraging me to not feel so compelled to work, work, work, as I think of the lantana flowers in my front yard.

“Yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”
Matthew 6:29

For context, Jesus had just said that the lilies of the field don’t have to toil or spin (Matthew 6:28), yet, wow, aren’t they beautiful?

If that’s a flower, how much more a human?

So I want to do a little less toiling and spinning this summer. And a little more trusting that Love can bloom around me and in me without my constant effort to make it happen. The love of God is foundational, with or without my push.

Maybe my lantana would be even more bountiful if I took more time tending it. I do pull weeds occasionally and prune it back when it begins taking over the driveway. Small acts of care.

But that’s enough. Its beauty returns year after year just the same.

Perhaps that’s the same with us, too. With love all around us and in us, maybe we don’t have to try so hard either.

And trust the beauty to return year after year just the same.

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Read more musings on Matthew 6:

• Fill in the Blank: “Life Is More Than ___ to Me” (Matthew 6:25)
• When Life Is Out of Control, What Fills in the Gaps? (Matthew 6:26)
• How Are the Changing Times Changing You? (Matthew 6:27)
• What Does Your Shirt Say About You? (Matthew 6:28)

I pile another load of clean clothes from the laundry basket onto the bed. This batch has a lot of Jeff’s t-shirts. My husband has many, many t-shirts. I fold them and put them away in his dresser drawer.

Yet last week Jeff told me he needs a few more t-shirts. Why???

Because he wants some that don’t say anything.

And I get that.

I take a quick glance on my side of the closet. I have multitudes of t-shirts, too. Are they all noisy as well? Do we not have any quiet t-shirts?

Many of my t-shirts have a logo, like PAR (Prepare and Respond, our disaster recovery group). Some shirts are advertisements, like Golden Eagle Syrup. Others are from events, like “I survived Hurricane Iniki” (yes, I still have this shirt from our honeymoon in 1993 after we got slammed by this hurricane). Still others have inspirational sayings, like “I am resilient.”

Every single t-shirt says something.

But out of the multitude of shirts I have available, I wear the same few again and again. The others just take up room collecting dust on their hangers.

Why? Partly because I like wearing clothes that feel comfortable on my body. But more so because I want to wear clothes that reflect on the outside who I am on the inside.

What we wear does say something about us. Maybe our clothes say we enjoy a party with their bold prints and loud colors. Or that we embrace change with our trendy outfits. Or that we’re minimalists and hate to shop because we wear the same basic items again and again (my hand is raised).

When Jesus asked his followers why they were anxious about their clothing (Matthew 6:28), he answered his own question by pointing to the lilies. He said the lilies didn’t fret about their appearance; they just wore their God-given colors.

What are my God-given colors? What are yours? Is our outward appearance matching our inward selves?

Ultimately, we’re most comfortable in clothes that most accurately reflect who we are. One of my favorite t-shirts this year is the one that contains my One Word 2023: “Be a nice human.” That’s what matters to me. It’s how I want to live. It’s who I want to be.

When each of us are wearing our true colors, we’re creating together a beautiful garden.

I wish Jeff luck in finding plain t-shirts to replace some of his logoed ones. They are few and far between these days. Advertisers long ago realized that we’d be walking billboards for them if they’d give us a free t-shirt with their message on it.

But whose message and what message do we want to advertise? What is our truest message we want to put out into the world?

Back in my closet, I pull out a few t-shirts that I no longer wear, that no longer reflect who I am. I put them in the donate pile.

Now I reach for one to put on for the day. It’s one of my well-worn shirts, of course. It says, “Choose love.”

That’s the message I’ll share today.

It fits just right.

This week’s memory verse for our Summer Memory Challenge is Matthew 6:28.

“And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin.”

Do you have trouble choosing what to wear (especially if you’re going outside the house)? Share in the comments.

“To become free of the tyranny of time, become interested in the present.”
– Jack Kornfield

The movement across the room catches my eye. I’m sitting in the rocking chair in my living room. I glance up to catch one picture morphing into the next picture on my digital picture frame that sits on the bookshelf.

In the first picture, I see a younger me with my youngest grandchild as an infant. I remember exactly how I felt looking into his baby eyes. That overwhelm of love. Of awe. Of time standing still.

But in the second picture, almost two years has elapsed.

We’re now at his 2nd birthday party, watching him walk around with his little friends in the park. No longer a baby, he now has opinions and preferences (anything with wheels) and agency.

And the same infectious personality that still brings us such joy.

I notice the astonishment rise in my heart as I look at him then and as I look at him now.

Yet I also feel a sense of almost panic. I’m running out of time.

While I get to see this little one grow, there are many people in my life that I don’t get to see on a regular basis. They are growing too.

And I know I’m missing out.

I need time to stand still so I can make the rounds to see all the people I want to see today. I don’t want more weeks, months, years, to pass by before I see them again.

I’m missing events with certain loved ones that will never be repeated. I’m losing the buildup of memories with them that would have brought me joy in the present and in the future.

But time won’t freeze for me. Nor will it expand to allow me to do all the things I want to do with these limited minutes.

I have to accept these limitations of living in a human body, able to be present in only one place at a time, doing only one thing at a time.

I grieve the loss of people I can’t be with all the time, even as I give thanks for the people I can be with now.

The flow of time is fixed. But people are fluid, always changing, always in flux through the medium of time.

I’m working toward acceptance of our anchored lives here. We all have limitations of things we can do and places we can be, with the time and bodies we have.

I renew my intention to purposefully engage the time I’m in. Sometimes it means using present time to look back at times past, like the photos are showing me. And sometimes it means using a bit more of present time to plan for future times, like a family vacation ahead.

But most of the time, it’s the impermanence of this present moment that I need to be most captivated by.

While I may have more days to sit in this same chair in this same room and even to look at these same photos in the frame, I won’t be exactly the same person tomorrow as I am today.

Time is changing me, too.

The memory verse of the week for our Summer Memory Challenge is Matthew 6:27.

“And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

I hear Jesus telling me again and again through these words that I can’t add time to my life. But I can add life to my time.

What’s your struggle with time as a human? Any solutions? Share in the comments.

“So, the task at hand is simple. Slow down. Wonder up. Be more like birds and you’ll be more human.”
– Carlos Whittaker, How to Human

Power of Squirrels

Our electricity is out again. I’m still in bed reading my Kindle on this Saturday morning. So the lack of electricity isn’t a problem for me at the moment.

Yet once I get up, I will need electricity. And breakfast. And a hot shower.

But thanks to our pesky squirrels, none of that may happen.

I’ve only been trying to feed the birds. Just the birds.

But our bird feeder is more accurately a squirrel feeder.

And the squirrels are troublemakers. Not only do they eat all the bird feed in a day, they also dig through the potted plants on the porch, destroying my flowers.

And now, already the third time this year, a squirrel caused our lack of electricity. He crawled on top of the electrical pole in my neighbor’s yard, touched the wrong wire, and POP!

We’re all in the dark.

Are the Birds Hungry?

I pull an orange out of the refrigerator for a quick breakfast, then go for a walk through the neighborhood, spotting the electrical truck. They’re working to restore our power.

I notice on my walk how noisy my neighborhood is. But it’s a good noise. It’s birds. They are plentiful, both in sight and in sound.

While I can’t keep them fed through my own bird feeder, the birds are obviously flourishing here nonetheless.

Just as promised. The memory verse I’m learning this week is something Jesus said.

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”
Matthew 6:26

I’m not fully comfortable with this verse. Yes, the birds around me have easy access to food. And yes, I do believe that humans trump birds.

But are humans always cared for? I have friends living in chronic pain. I see hungry people around town. I can often feel fear even about my own future.

What was Jesus talking about?

While I can’t know for sure, I imagine Jesus telling me that we humans don’t have as much control as we’d like to think. That we need outside help.

And that help is always available.

Stay Connected

None of us can fully handle everything life throws at us. We fall down. Things go wrong, and sometimes stay wrong.

But we’re never alone (even though we sometimes feel alone; there is only one soul per body, after all). When life is out of control, what fills in the gaps?

Companionship with others, grounded in Love, may be our greatest protection to endure the dark.

While we can’t control everything, we do have skills, strength, and wisdom to control some things. And the responsibility to do so.

For the things that aren’t ours to control? We can trust what Jesus said, that there will be provision in the gaps. Not necessarily solutions. Definitely not perfection.

But connection.

Connection often appears as another human being showing up as Love.

For future uncertainties still ahead? We can trust that support will show up for those too, maybe in the form of people we haven’t even met yet. As the saying goes, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.”

I return home from my neighborhood stroll to find the electricity is back on. I discover there’s one less squirrel.

But the birds? Oh, the birds. They’re everywhere, flying and singing. They don’t mind that the squirrels have emptied the bird feeder. The birds are already full.

And for the moment, so am I.

Have you met new people this year who’ve fed you on your journey? I’m grateful for both older and new friends who are walking alongside me. Share in the comments.

Read more about Human, my One Word 2023:

• Fill in the Blank: “Life is more than ___”
• If You’re a Mindreader
• Ask Yourself This One Question

The Quest for Perfect Shoes

I’m wandering the aisles in the shoe department. I’m looking for size 7 tennis shoes—no laces—for my friend V. But I’m not sure what style she prefers.

• Maybe these blue ones? No, they look too hard to put on and pull off.
• These purple ones? No, she doesn’t like the color purple, so she probably wouldn’t want purple shoes.
• Maybe the white ones? No, they’d show dirt too easily and she wouldn’t know how to clean them.

I want to get this right.

I finally settle on a pair of navy slip-ons, with elastic instead of shoe strings. But will she like them? I just don’t know.

Details, Details, Details

No wonder I don’t like to shop. While I’m grateful for options, sometimes we have too many choices. I don’t enjoy shopping for myself, and I’m even more uncomfortable shopping for someone else.

I can get too bogged down in details. In my desire for the optimal choice, I can freeze up. The uncertainty of “what if?” takes over.

So today I begin re-memorizing Matthew 6:25-34. They are the words of Jesus about trading lesser details for more important matters.

Looking closely at Jesus’s words, I zone in on this question he asks in verse 25: “Is not life more than ___?” He fills in the blank here with food and clothing.

But how am I filling in the blank?

• Isn’t life more than . . . worrying about where I’ll park?
• Isn’t life more than . . . overthinking my digital photos?
• Isn’t life more than . . . replaying a previous conversation?
• Isn’t life more than . . . obsessing about a single shoe purchase?

I could go on and on.

The Answer Is?

For each question, I get the same answer. Yes.

Yes, life is more than worries and overthinking and replays and obsessions.

In this year of Human as my One Word, I’ve set an intention for myself that I read each morning:

“Be present to love the people still in my life.”

But I’m such a time-traveler. Some days it’s quite difficult to stay present. My mind flits between past memories to future plans, back and forth, morning and night.

Lingering in this day, in this moment, can be challenging.

But loving the people here—in this very second—is what gives me life.

Her Other Shoes

V walks outside to meet me as I pull up to her apartment complex. As I step out of my car, I can tell she’s happy to see me. And I’m happy to deliver her new shoes to her.

While we’re still in the parking lot, before I can even pull her new shoes out of the bag to hand them over, V bubbles over with her own news.

V says, “Look at me! I have on new shoes!”

What? I think back to the laborious afternoon I spent choosing the shoes she asked me to buy, the shoes that are still waiting in my car for her.

Then I look down at the shoes she’s so thrilled about, the shoes she’s been walking around town in.

They are fuzzy blue houseshoes!

She says they are so comfortable. She’s been wearing them everywhere. Aren’t they pretty?

I feel something shift inside me.

I respond, “Why, yes, V, they are lovely!”

And I can’t help but smile. At her, with her childlike enthusiasm to wear fuzzy blue houseshoes wherever her feet can take her. And at me, for having to relearn again and again the same lesson of letting go of details.

I hand V the new tennis shoes I bought and say, “You can wear these shoes, too, whenever you want to.” She says she loves them and thank you.

In the future, I’m sure I’ll still care more about trivial details than is necessary. But at least today I’ve gotten one more nudge in the right direction to release them.

While Jesus didn’t say that food and clothing aren’t important, he just said they’re not the most important.

The most important thing in life—which always has been and always will be—is simply Love.

Here’s this week’s memory verse for those participating in our Summer Memory Challenge:

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
– Matthew 6:25

What minor things fill in your blanks, “Isn’t life more than ___?” What are you trying to let go of? Share your thoughts in the comments.