What's Your Word?

I'm currently listening to an Audiobook in which a woman goes on a journey of self-discovery. Though our journeys are quite different, I've connected with some of the things Liz has learned so far and have gleaned much food for thought.
In the chapters I listened to today, Liz had a conversation which caused her to ponder what one word best captured her life. As she mused and rambled, I got caught up in my own self-examination (and may have missed some of the book...). What word best summarizes and explains me at this current point in my life? After much deliberation (well, actually, it did not take me as long to select this word as I thought it would...) I have decided to choose the word, "learn."

To learn, according to our friend Merriam Webster, is to: gain knowledge or understanding of or skill in by study, instruction, or experience.
To memorize.
To come to be able.
To come to realize.
To come to know.

I love how this definition uses the phrase "to come to..." Learning is a process. Learning is a journey.

I could at this point begin explaining why this word best defines this season of my life, but I think I'll let the word and it's definition speak for itself.

Learn. That's my word. What's your word?

"For crying and laughing, weeping and dancing."

Tonight finds me defeated and sniffling, with a growing mountain (and by mountain I mean pile of two...) of tissues to my left and and warm cup of tea to my right. I sip my tea and wonder how one day could hold so much emotion. I'm dejected, defeated, sniffling, full of doubts, but mere hours earlier I was dancing, laughing, playing games and eating cookies with my library kiddos (whom I LOVE)--I was on top of the world, and completely in my element. I'm glad there are times for both weeping and dancing, crying and laughing.

Tonight, I find solace in Solomon's words, in God's timing, in Sleepytime tea, M&M cookies, tissue mountains, and in library dance parties.

The Beatles Believed in Yesterday, Annie Held out for Tomorrow, but I Love Today!

Yesterday was just one of those days. Do you ever have those days...the days where you know it's one of those, but you don't really know why? And then suddenly, you're crying about burnt pancakes, and of course because you burnt pancakes the only logical conclusion is that you can't do anything right. Ever. Yeah. One of THOSE days. But anyway, that's enough about yesterday! I'm really writing about today.

I love the newness of a new day, and the "fresh with no mistakes" factor (also known as the Lamentations 3:22-23 factor). Even though sometimes the worries of yesterday carry over into the next day, and the next day, and the next, there is still something to be said for sleeping, and then waking up to a new day. Some days, the new day is another tearful day; some days are peaceful days. However, no matter what they bring, they are always new. That's what I love about today(s).

It's so easy to get stuck in yesterday, to fret about tomorrow. Both are important, but are nothing without todays (which is not a word, according to this dictionary, but today I am declaring it to be a word). This is what I'm learning. (Hmm, Brittany Norris, this sounds a lot like learning to cherish the moments...)

The Saddest Shelves

There are only two shelves in the children's department which hold books labeled FIC 362. It's amazing how much sadness and brokenness exist on these two shelves. Here we find books and stories which attempt to aid children process incredibly difficult realities. These two shelves attempt to offer assistance to the grieving, the ill, the abused, the disabled, the children of alcoholics, and children who have ill or disabled relatives. Some titles bring smiles (Shelly, The Hyperactive Turtle), while others bring me close to tears (Don't Hurt Me, Mama).

My time spent with the books of FIC 362 brought a familiar heaviness back into my heart. We have books like this for children because children are living in heartbreaking realities. As I left the library, I couldn't shake the sadness (the joys of being a feeler). Walking home in silence, I had a bit of an epiphany (or perhaps a re-epiphany).

I've been told that when forming a vision, it is vital to examine what causes your heart to break, what brings you to weep (Thank you, Dr. Peugh!). The heaviness in my heart and the tears that formed were not merely the curse of empathy, but also the re-ignition of a passion which God has planted and fostered in my heart. The brokenness and pain sometimes feels overwhelming. I don't know what I can do, or what I am to do. But I hope that one day I will be able to offer much more than a book to a hurting child. And that, my dear friends, is what the saddest shelves taught me.

learning to need

Father,
I need you.
I need your word.
I need your love.
I need your people.

Forgive me for thinking I am above these needs.

Amen.