possessions

I wish I were one of those people who marked up books as I read them, highlighting and making notes and copying out quotes and all. But I'm not. It's rare that I remember to have a pen nearby, and rare for me to want to interrupt the flow to stop and mark something. To say nothing of the fact that most of the books I read are from the library. When I read, the reading absorbs me, and when I note a great sentence, I just say something along the lines of "why couldn't I have thought to say it that way?" and then move on with the rest of the story or essay or teaching.

I read a lot of fiction. And sometimes there are some real gems in fiction. Some writers are amazing at characterization, and they create people that I would love to know in real life. I like a good story line, and exciting plot, lots of mystery & suspense, but if I fall in love with the characters, I will read every book that author has published.

So, as I was sitting in the laundromat reading, I read a line that I really wanted to remember. And it was a library book, so I couldn't mark it up, and I'm pretty sure I didn't have a pen with me anyway. But I did have my camera. Why hadn't I thought of this before?


"It's only a thing. I was never a slave to possessions. It's not good to think there are things you can't do without. Feel that way about something and you end up doing things you'll regret to hold onto it."
(Quote is from a novel by Jo Bannister. Can't remember the title.)

This gem is from a character who in the book is an atheist with higher morals than some Christians I know. And it's a sound biblical principle. A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth. That's Luke 12:15. God speaking.

It can be easy to get wrapped up in having all the right things. Whether it's the latest and greatest in fashion or vehicles or home furnishings. Or the trendiest designer handbag or shoes. Or the newest, smallest technology (MacBook Air anyone?).

It's also "easy" to knock materialism when it's this obvious. But how about some other possessions? How about family heirlooms? Things that have memories attached? Things with huge emotional significance? All the little bits and pieces of things that we save because they trigger memories of joy.

Can we hold all these things loosely? I don't want to attach so much significance to any of my belongings that I couldn't just leave them behind if I needed to. Or that I would do something I'd regret to hold on to these things.

I have a friend whom the Lord is preparing for the mission field. A couple of years back, she and her husband decided to sell their house to be more free for the next move, whatever and whenever that would be. Little did she know there would be several moves in the next year alone. She told me about how she got her 5 kids to pare down their possessions in preparation for the first move. She gave them each one box and said they could only bring what fit in that box (apart from clothing and other essentials, of course). When they had that filled, she gave them each a smaller box and had them weed things out until it all fit in the smaller box. I can't remember how small the final box was, but it got me thinking about all the stuff that I own, and what I would be willing to leave behind. How big would my final box need to be? My books alone! BIG box.

Compared to a huge percentage of the world, I am insanely wealthy. Compared to some people I know, not so much. But I am content with the things that I have. I am fine with running my 177,000+ mile car into the ground before getting another one. I'm fine with staying in my little apartment, though sometimes I long for a sprawling house with tons of space to spread out in. I'm okay with not spending $400 on a handbag, or three times that on "real" furniture in my living room or whatever is necessary to upgrade my technology every time something new comes out.

There are things that I long for…things that catch my attention and make me dream about owning them. But I find that if I stay away from all those things that exist solely to separate me from my hard-earned money, I'm really okay. If I stay away from pottery barn, and off of the ikea website and don't drool through the entire vera catalog that comes in the mail, I'm okay. I know there are so many things more important than things.

It seems there is so much more to write about this one. But I'm going to shut up now. My free couch is claiming my sick self for sleep.

loveliness

so, a week+ after my birthday, my birthday flowers are still lovely. I took them out of the arrangement they came in and filled four different random jars.

talk about the gift that keeps on giving!

the seashell on the stairs

There is a seashell that lives on my porch.

I'm not sure where he came from.

One day I came home and he had migrated down to the first step, as you see him here.

There are several shells that are usually to be found in a pile, sometimes filled with cigarette butts from the guy upstairs.

I really like the color combo here, and the texture of peeling paint and the surface of the shell.

remembering papa

Twelve years ago today (or maybe it was yesterday?), my father said good-bye to the cancer and went on Home. We were all there, his family and closest friends, and he waited until my big brother made it there and mom told him it was okay to go. And he went.

And sometimes I just envy him, because he gets to be with Jesus, and he doesn't have to worry about fighting sin anymore, and he doesn't feel any pain any more, and he is doing what every one of us is created to do.

And sometimes I miss him. He was a teacher, and had a lot of wisdom to share, as well as a lot of random facts about anything and everything that made him sound smarter than he probably really was. How would I know? It took me a few years to remember that he wasn't perfect. He loved me and called me JR Jennifer and believed that I could be the President if I really wanted to.

I often wonder what I would be like had he been around for the past decade+ of my life. How would I be different? How would I be the same? Would I have made different choices? Would I be where I am or some other place entirely? I wonder about the impact on my spiritual growth and learning—having him around as I grew to be more serious about a relationship with God and what that means in my everyday life. I wonder what kind of input I have missed with him gone.

One of the last dates I had with him was out to some podunk town an hour or so away from Utica. I don't even remember which town. But we went to a coffee shop there to hear a favorite musician of his—Ed Gerhard, an amazing guitarist. It was a side of my dad I hadn't known before. A more relaxed version of the man who was very strict (though loving) and rather rigid in many ways as us kids were growing up. I think as he grew older, he let go of some of the rules he had laid on us as kids and started learning more about how to live a life that honors God without always keeping a checklist of "what not to do" handy.

I know that as the only girl, I have a different view of my dad than my brothers probably do. I think he related very differently with all three of us. I just wish there had been more time to figure out the relationship and to get to know my dad as an adult. For the last 11 months of his life, I moved home and spent time with him.

On Friday nights, we would walk up to the uptown bar & grill for the best fish fry in town, then rent a movie and head home. I don't remember most of the movies we watched, or many of the other places we tried the fish fry, or even really how many weeks we did this. I remember a night at Red Lobster where I tried his lobster and failed to see how it was any different from drowning pretty much ANYTHING in butter. Why pay so much when it was all about the butter?? I probably ordered chicken. Maybe steak.

I remember the night that he started telling me about a job interview he had conducted that day at work. He talked in a lot of detail about this interview, and I listened politely. My dad liked to talk. I would often rather have been reading a book. I finally, out of politeness, asked what position he was interviewing the person for. "Mine" he said. And I started crying. Realizing that he was wrapping things up. Getting ready to leave. Leave his job and leave this world. He talked about the "happenings" of the 60's that night, and I so wish I had gone straight to my room and written down that conversation that night so I wouldn't forget it.

The day we put his body in the ground was much like today: icy cold, with a clear blue sky and snow on the ground. A day he would have enjoyed immensely. He liked the cold. Wilted in the heat.

I'm not mourning today. I'm happy. Even when I am missing him, I know that I will one day see Papa again. I do not mourn as those who have no hope, but look forward to the happiest reunion of all.

There is much I don't know about heaven…like will we really ask God all those questions we've always wanted to ask Him? Will we really be chatting with the people we've read about in the Bible? Or will we just be at Jesus' feet, singing "holy, holy, holy" and being completely overwhelmed by His presence?

I guess today is really my papa's 12th birth day. The day he started his real life. Moved out of the shadowlands and into reality.

half-way there

Biblically speaking, my life is half over. Today.
(Psalm 90:10—and don't worry, I know this isn't really saying everyone gets 70 or 80 years & that's it.)

This is not a bad thing. At all.

I've done a lot in this "half-life" of mine. And there's so much to look forward to in the next half. The Lord has blessed me abundantly. He's given so many good things, including hard things. I've traveled and learned and played and loved and lost and grieved and rejoiced and grown and questioned and plowed forward and run forward and slid backwards and turned cartwheels and laughed and wept and been frightened and been fearless.

I've learned about who God is (though I've so much more to learn) and about His amazing, indescribable gifts to us (though the depths there are so much deeper than I'll ever go this side of eternity).

I know that I am not guaranteed another 35 years. I know that there are places in the world where 35 is venerable old age. I know my next breath is in the hand of the Creator and Sustainer of all things.

I'm so glad I can trust Him!

I know I've often failed to honor the Lord Jesus in this first half of my life. I'm grateful for His mercy and patience with me.

I'm looking forward to seeing His working in my next half!