Looking Back. . .
There's something you should know about me.
I usually leap six inches off the ground whenever I see a spider, and then I just about have to put my head between my knees until my heart rate goes back to normal. I blame the six inch vault on my insane reflexes, but as for the fear of spiders? That was definitely fortified when I wasforced encouraged to sweep the basement stairs when I was barely big enough to hold up the broom {or at least it seemed that way to me}.
I will forever remember being wound up tighter than a piece of dental floss as I slowly made my way to the stairs with the old wicker broom clutched in my hands like it was the only thing keeping me alive. I would nervously scan the stairs and wait for any creepy-crawler movement. If I didn't detect anything, I began sweeping, but I was always on high alert. Seriously high alert, people. If someone would have tried to sneak up on me, I probably would have beaten them black and blue with the broom handle before I could have stopped myself.
Looking back, I'm not sure why the thought of dead bug carcasses was so intimidating. What were they going to do? Bite me? Cling to my clothes and make baby bugs in my clothes hamper?
Not likely.
Another cause of great bug-induced concern originated when I would come back inside from playing in the snow and my mom would use that same old wicker broom to brush off any remaining snow from my suit.
"AAAHH! Mom! I swept up bugs with that broom! STOP!" {imagine a mini version of me doing a squirmy dance while trying to wiggle out of reach of the bristles}
She would usually just laugh and say, "They were dead!" and keep sweeping at me.
Ug. The things that one carries into adulthood. . .Strange.
. . . . .
Looking back on memories helps keep me focused on how I got where I am today. I find comfort looking back and seeing how I overcame struggles that seemed insurmountable at the time. I love looking back on some memories from college and laughing so hard I start to cry.
Looking back is fun. Looking back can also be an issue if one tries to relive those times.
The past is where memories are kept safe. The present is where you live. Don't mix up the two.
Now that we're clear that I'm not trying to live vicariously through my old life, let's move on. :)
I was reading my journal the other day and felt prompted to share an entry. Then I thought, "Hmmm... It might be fun to pick random journal entries every so often and type 'em up for the world to see." So here we go.
{Oh, and no poking fun of my journal entry (now or in the future). If you do, I'll whip out that broomstick and show you a thing or two}
. . . . .
January 21, 2010
I don't have long to write this entry, but that's okay, because I don't have much to say. In fact, there's a possibility that this won't even fill up the entire page and thereby ignite the fury of my inner OCD. . . but oh, well.
I h ad a rather interesting 'revelation' of sorts while doing the dishes a moment ago. Now, this has nothing to do with anything (but dishes): have you noticed how they seem to literally multiply when your back is turned? Good gravy! They're everywhere! You finish what's in the sink, dry your hands, admire your handiwork of precariously stacked dished 2 feet high on your little wooden dish drainer, and turn around only to confront a pile of pans you forgot on your stove. One of these days, I'm gonna have to break down and use my dishwasher :)
Okay!
Back to my thought.
I was ready a book the other day that quoted 1 Corinthians 13:7. Here Paul is teaching about qualities of charity. We've all heard the saying that charity equals the pure love of Christ. Well, this book substituted the pure love of Christ/charity with true love. They are all one in meaning, anyway.
So this scripture teaches us that true love: beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, and endureth all things. I wrote that on my white board as soon as I read it because it reminded me that while all things in loving someone aren't perfect, they don't have to be. You just have to love them anyway. . . You bear it, and grow from it.
But as I went passed my white board today on my way to the sink overflowing with dishes, something more profound occurred to me and touched my heart.
When you're truly in love, you bear ALL things. You bear the good and the bad; happy and sad. You bear with patience their shortcomings just as they will yours. You believe in them. . . You believe ALL things. You hope ALL things are going to be all right. You hope for them in their endeavors and desires. You hope for their happiness and contentment above your own. And even if it doesn't work out the way you wanted (or hoped for :D), you endure it ALL.
Paul knew that you don't 'endure' happy times.
You never 'endure' times of righteousness and peace. You' endure' hardship.
You bear, believe, hope, and endure ALL THINGS. Together. Bound with love and trust. Nothing was designed to be experienced alone on this mortal journey. We have each other, and we have the Lord.
I usually leap six inches off the ground whenever I see a spider, and then I just about have to put my head between my knees until my heart rate goes back to normal. I blame the six inch vault on my insane reflexes, but as for the fear of spiders? That was definitely fortified when I was
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I will forever remember being wound up tighter than a piece of dental floss as I slowly made my way to the stairs with the old wicker broom clutched in my hands like it was the only thing keeping me alive. I would nervously scan the stairs and wait for any creepy-crawler movement. If I didn't detect anything, I began sweeping, but I was always on high alert. Seriously high alert, people. If someone would have tried to sneak up on me, I probably would have beaten them black and blue with the broom handle before I could have stopped myself.
Looking back, I'm not sure why the thought of dead bug carcasses was so intimidating. What were they going to do? Bite me? Cling to my clothes and make baby bugs in my clothes hamper?
Not likely.
Another cause of great bug-induced concern originated when I would come back inside from playing in the snow and my mom would use that same old wicker broom to brush off any remaining snow from my suit.
"AAAHH! Mom! I swept up bugs with that broom! STOP!" {imagine a mini version of me doing a squirmy dance while trying to wiggle out of reach of the bristles}
She would usually just laugh and say, "They were dead!" and keep sweeping at me.
Ug. The things that one carries into adulthood. . .Strange.
. . . . .
Looking back on memories helps keep me focused on how I got where I am today. I find comfort looking back and seeing how I overcame struggles that seemed insurmountable at the time. I love looking back on some memories from college and laughing so hard I start to cry.
Looking back is fun. Looking back can also be an issue if one tries to relive those times.
The past is where memories are kept safe. The present is where you live. Don't mix up the two.
Now that we're clear that I'm not trying to live vicariously through my old life, let's move on. :)
I was reading my journal the other day and felt prompted to share an entry. Then I thought, "Hmmm... It might be fun to pick random journal entries every so often and type 'em up for the world to see." So here we go.
{Oh, and no poking fun of my journal entry (now or in the future). If you do, I'll whip out that broomstick and show you a thing or two}
. . . . .
January 21, 2010
I don't have long to write this entry, but that's okay, because I don't have much to say. In fact, there's a possibility that this won't even fill up the entire page and thereby ignite the fury of my inner OCD. . . but oh, well.
I h ad a rather interesting 'revelation' of sorts while doing the dishes a moment ago. Now, this has nothing to do with anything (but dishes): have you noticed how they seem to literally multiply when your back is turned? Good gravy! They're everywhere! You finish what's in the sink, dry your hands, admire your handiwork of precariously stacked dished 2 feet high on your little wooden dish drainer, and turn around only to confront a pile of pans you forgot on your stove. One of these days, I'm gonna have to break down and use my dishwasher :)
Okay!
Back to my thought.
I was ready a book the other day that quoted 1 Corinthians 13:7. Here Paul is teaching about qualities of charity. We've all heard the saying that charity equals the pure love of Christ. Well, this book substituted the pure love of Christ/charity with true love. They are all one in meaning, anyway.
So this scripture teaches us that true love: beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, and endureth all things. I wrote that on my white board as soon as I read it because it reminded me that while all things in loving someone aren't perfect, they don't have to be. You just have to love them anyway. . . You bear it, and grow from it.
But as I went passed my white board today on my way to the sink overflowing with dishes, something more profound occurred to me and touched my heart.
When you're truly in love, you bear ALL things. You bear the good and the bad; happy and sad. You bear with patience their shortcomings just as they will yours. You believe in them. . . You believe ALL things. You hope ALL things are going to be all right. You hope for them in their endeavors and desires. You hope for their happiness and contentment above your own. And even if it doesn't work out the way you wanted (or hoped for :D), you endure it ALL.
Paul knew that you don't 'endure' happy times.
You never 'endure' times of righteousness and peace. You' endure' hardship.
You bear, believe, hope, and endure ALL THINGS. Together. Bound with love and trust. Nothing was designed to be experienced alone on this mortal journey. We have each other, and we have the Lord.
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