My Starbucks would beat your Starbucks any day of the week. Or your Caribou or your Dunn Bros or your Pub.
Or maybe your church.
Just sayin’.
Like at Cheers, at my Starbucks everybody knows your name.
Nobody’s perfect and all are welcome.
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It’s Friday, and you’ve made it through another week.
Some of you have made it through “somehow”, hanging on by your toes, holding back tears, and wanting to hide in a hole. It’s gonna be ok. Be gentle with yourself.
For some of you it’s Friday and your stomach is in knots or in butterflies or in whatevers and you’re nervous or fearful because even though it’s Friday you still feel like Rocky going into the ring. The hard conversations, or pressure to produce, or scary diagnosis doesn’t disappear for the weekend. It’s gonna be ok. Be gentle with yourself.
And others have come to this Friday “triumphantly”, feeling like you want to high five the checkout girl and the barista and maybe even give a thumbs up to the person who cuts you off in traffic. We’ll try to be happy for you. :). Celebrate!
At the end of the week, what do you do to care for yourself? What is most nourishing to your soul?
For me it’s getting outside biking, walking, playing – soaking up the beauty of the world, and relationships where there’s meaningful conversation and lots of laughter and hugs.
Reading is replenishing too, but lately I have felt a check in my spirit. A caution that I need to live more than I read.
I fear we (I!) get sucked into collecting sound bites, hoarding information, sharing pithy tweets, taking lots of notes and not allow any of it to seep into our souls and change us into people who look more like Jesus.
We read more than we live.
We quote more than we do.
We know more about praying than we pray, know more about serving than we serve.
I need to live what I know.
If I fasted from reading for a time, would my hands and feet and heart ever catch up with my head?
Note the title of this post. I just added the parenthesis. I sat down today, fully intending to share a couple book reviews and do a give-away, but I prayed and…well, this is what came instead. Thoughts?
Can we all just agree? Liam Neeson’s got serious game. He’s not afraid of anyone as long as he’s got a cell phone.
In the absence of similar skills, approximately 47 million parents of high school and college students have made their kids watch at least the first half hour of the movie, Taken, in which “Liam’s” teenage daughter is snatched by bad guys who have (really) bad plans for her. For the past few years parents have been sending daughters out into a dangerous world with the battle cry, “Remember TAKENNNNN!!”
And now, with a Part Two coming out, this was a tweet I read the other day.
All this Liam Neeson tough guy stuff has been on my mind because in almost every conversation I’ve had lately there has been an unwanted intruder. His name is Fear, and he seems to be lurking, wanting to take me, my friends and family to places we don’t want to go.
Today is daughter Maggie’s 25th birthday.
She is an amazing young woman – shiny and fun and creative as a toddler’s birthday party. But also sincere and committed and serious about the sobering things of life like injustice and world poverty.
On this, as on all birthdays, I look back and remember the day she was born, stubborn from the start, refusing to come out without intense prompting even though my body had been saying it was time for over a month.
I also look back to my own 25 year old self and have been reflecting on what I would say to her and to Maggie.
I think I would say…
Often people ask me for suggestions of good devotionals or Bible studies. It happened again this past week after John preached on the Bread of Life and it got me to thinking. I’m delighted to share what’s been helpful to me, but with a few caveats and a request to hear from you too. I am so grateful for my relationship with Jesus but…
This was a text exchange between daughters Katy and Maggie last week:
Ahhh…So many questions!
It was a timely reminder our family’s issues with squirrels and how God may want to use this to prepare me for an upcoming trip to the Middle East with a group of women pursuing peace. Here’s an edited version of some thoughts I posted last year…
There’s this homeless guy that I see many days.
He hangs out at the end of the ramp from the main highway near where I live.
He has a backpack and a cardboard sign.
He keeps regular hours. Basically 9:00-5:00 as best I can tell. Every day.
You know, like a real job.
This is a little confusing to me. I’ve often thought I should take the time to park and go ask him if he wants help applying for a job at one of the many businesses right near his spot.
I keep McDonald’s gift cards in my car that I give him sometimes when the light is red.
And I talk to him. I’ve asked his name, but I can’t remember it. Of course I sometimes forget the names of people I’ve met 12 times, but still, I’m not proud that I can’t remember homeless guy’s name.
Last Sunday I was driving to church with John’s sport coat and a nice black shirt in the car with me.
This week we’re in Atlanta for the Catalyst Conference.
For the uninitiated, this is the church world equivalent of the cool kids’ table in Junior high. The one with the vibe that everyone wants.
Catalyst is for the young and hip – the guys who wear the rumpled uniform of untucked plaid flannel shirts or V-neck t’s, super skinny jeans and tiny black Rob Bell glasses.
They use product that makes their hair spiky or shave their heads if there’s not enough “there” there to mousse. You used to see a lot soul patch and piercings going on, but not so much lately.
People like to write about Catalyst. Tweet about it. It’s a good place to see and be seen.
I’ve decided that one of the strongest pieces of evidence supporting the idea that God made us for community is that I seem incapable of shopping for clothes on my own.
It takes a team of expert consultants (mostly my daughters and/or my mom who is 78, but has been known to swap clothes with the 24-year-old so she’s very cool dontchaknow).
We’re spread out, but devoted to each other and committed avoiding having a candid photo of us show up in Glamour magazine with the headline “Fashion Don’ts”.
So we take pictures of ourselves in dressing rooms wherever we are shopping and text them to each other asking the others to weigh in and give advice.
I’m not kidding.
It’s too much.
Too much information. Too many emails. Too many tweets, deadlines, posts, updates, pins, appointments, requests, to-do lists…
Are you with me?
Hi, I’m Laura – a Jesus-follower who gets it wrong a lot, but is still beloved just like you.
