empty and beautiful

I have some of my own thoughts on this, but feel too full to speak today —

So —

“In life, we end up having to empty ourselves to achieve that which is beautiful,” Matt Maher says.

“If you don’t, you never really get made beautiful. It’s a weird dichotomy, especially in the world we live in because there’s so much focus on beauty.

“The whole idea of having to empty one’s self to achieve beauty is completely counter cultural, but that’s what happens — marriage, service of the poor, sharing the beauty of the gospel.

“That’s what Christ calls us to do, and I hope these songs will help inspire people to follow Jesus in that way.”

http://www.mattmahermusic.com/index.php

mad mad morning

The elevator opens with a “ding” the second I press the button. 

Looking over my shoulder, I check my reflection in the hallway mirror, pick at a wild strand of hair and step into the elevator. 

All without looking down.

“Good morning,” I say, adjusting the bag on my shoulder and fixing my eyes on a section of wall appropriate for riding the elevator with other passengers.   

The man says nothing and then is gone without a trace.  

I feel the woman’s gaze as we wait  — in what I think is perfectly normal elevator etiquette — for the door to close behind him.

She speaks as we begin to move to the next floor.

“Uh, I just have to make a comment —”

I give her a smile and a look that says “go right ahead.”

“Are you aware that you have —

And it’s here that I begin to feel there’s something ‘off’  about me — is it my shirt?  Did I forget to button it?  A stain?  No — my pants?  Oh god, is my zipper gaping open? What? —

What? —

“— two different shoes on?”

I’d sooner believed her if she said my hair was on fire, so sure I am that this is just not the case.  But then —

My mind races back to the last thing I did before I walked out the door —

The shelves of shoes right by the front door.  A glass of milk, a footwear choice —

Grab a pair with the left hand and plunk on the floor while draining the glass and staring into space.  Pick up my keys.  Step into the shoes —

Without looking down —

Until now.

My god, could they be any different?

One is a flaming orange and white Car Shoe.  The other, a Stuart Weitzman tortoise patent.

At 8 a.m. I can hardly say “it was dark” —

And “I meant to do that” is too offbeat — even for me. 

So I laugh and tell her thank you for her polite comment —

And she leaves while I ponder —

Getting this day off on the right feet.

reduced speed ahead

It’s no secret I don’t like to drive.  It makes me anxious.  Fills me with dread.  And yet —

I drive. 

I drive quite a bit actually.  And,  thanks to my odd little coping rituals, prayers and affirmations —  I think it’s safe to say I’ve done a pretty good job at fooling the other drivers on the road.  I obey the rules, stay in the lines and to the untrained eye —

I appear composed — maybe even happy —

But I’m not.

On this road I’m on —

I’m not the driver I appear to be. 

Now this is not news to me.  I’ve knowingly played the imposter and paid the price for many years — believing —

Driving itself was the unavoidable problem I needed to overcome —

Until now.

The proverbial fork in the road.

As the road I’m on goes down to one lane with many curves up ahead — I can’t help but think —

Divine detour.

Truly, this is an opportunity to choose what feels right to me — to choose where and with whom I belong —

And get on the road that will allow me to be the driver —

I am meant to be.