our blog
Feb
Waiting in Vegas
Last week due to a flight cancellation I ended up with a six hour layover in Vegas. I’m not the Vegas type but I teach and research on popular culture and more than a few of my students head to Vegas for Spring Break so I decided to take a cab, see one casino, spend no more than 20 bucks and head home. That way I could say I’ve “done” Vegas.
With some advice from the airport information desk and a phone call to a friend who attends a conference there each year, I headed out the airport door to find the Hard Rock Casino.
Actually, I could’ve played slots there in the airport. The airport slot machines (yes, really) claim to have given away $13 million last year. As generous as that sounds, Vegas is arranged and designed to do one thing: dazzle you away from your money. The people movers and escalators in the airport, the cattle chutes that line you up for cabs, the neon lights, the dramatic architecture, the velvet ropes, the glitzy shows—all of it designed so Vegas makes money despite giving away 13 million in the airport alone.
Nevertheless, I bought four $5 chips and headed to the black jack table. I actually won four out of six hands and got the faintest thought about “hot streak” and knew it was time to part company with my less successful table mates. Buying chips was easy, cashing them out required GPS and a canteen: Vegas is arranged to take your money, not give it back.
As I rode in the cab back to the airport, simultaneously glad to be “out” but also drawn to wonder “what else,” and “what if?” I asked my cabbie how long he’d been in Vegas.
“Twenty years.”
“So you’ve seen it all.”
“Oh, yes, it’s easy to get in trouble. The gambling, the booze, the hookers, the women from out of town that try to dress like the hookers . . . ”
“Are you married?”
“Yes, for 10 years. My first five years here I made all the dumb mistakes but that got old. And then you just want something better.”
“Yep.”
We were back to the airport; I thanked him for his time and tipped him out of my “winnings.”
I still had time before my flight and so I began thinking about my life in comparison to Vegas. Vegas is arranged completely for its mission. The mission is not particularly wholesome or family friendly but it is clear. What am I about? Is my life arranged with such singular focus? If someone studies my life, am I as clear about what I SAY is important to me as Vegas is? I don’t think so. Not yet. Hopefully, “compass” will help me.
So, a big goal for me this year is to arrange my life for success in what matters most. So where will I start? I’ll start small.
1) I’ve bookmarked the My One Word site and have reminders in my calendar program to check in, read and reflect on the various blog posts there.
2) I’ve put my word on my screensaver (actually, all of them—life is cumulative).
3) I’ve committed to SAY my word daily in some way—if only to myself. My word is “compass” to emphasize the journey I’m on with Christ. I’ve already used to avoid stumbling and to recover when I’ve stumbled.
4) I’m keeping a “compass” handy in form of reading material that keeps me on track. Packing a book or keeping the Kindle handier than I have will allow one more encounter with Truth during the day.
Hopefully, someday, I’ll be as clear as Vegas but with a different message and mission . . . and my life will be described as “paying out” far more than I’m “raking in.”
Feb
Time
A few months ago, I bought 120 white plastic hangers.
It all started with a visit to a friend’s house. This friend’s house was really clean. Pristine. The kind of pristine that makes you feel like you are walking into a Pottery Barn catalog. The kind of pristine where even the washer and dryer are, well, pristine. There was no dust, no lint, no streaks of detergent, no lone, mysterious sock cluttering up her appliances. And then I got a peek at one of her closets–such wondrous organization!- and I couldn’t help but notice that all her hangers matched.
Yes, I noticed that.
And I decided that I too wanted matching hangers. Silly, I know. But when I happened upon a hanger sale a few weeks later, I thought, “What luck!” and loaded up my cart. The following Sunday at church, when I casually mentioned to one of my friends about My-Matching-Hangers-Idea, she looked at me, more than slightly puzzled by my zeal, and said, smiling, teasingly- “Donna, I think you need to go back to work.”
See, over a year ago I became a mom. A stay-at-home mom. After working for nine years, and watching several friends blaze this trail before me, I kinda had an idea what this would look like. Lunches at Chick-Fil-A, playdates at the park, mornings spent shopping at Target. And time. I would have all this glorious time.
Time to be sure there was always a fresh pitcher of my husband’s beloved sweet tea in the fridge. Time to clean the baseboards, straighten the garage, and vacuum my car. Time to read the Bible more. Time to pour into my relationships.
Time.
Eighteen months later…my husband makes his own sweet tea, my baseboards have never been dirtier, my garage looks like something from Hoarders, and my car is littered with cheerio crumbs and dried out hand-wipes. And I don’t read the Bible any more than I use to. Maybe even less. And my friendships.. they are no deeper, no more authentic than they were, well, eighteen months ago.
And all those hangers? It has been six months and they are hanging in my closet all right. They are just clothes-less. All 120 of them still nicely wrapped in sets of ten inside their cardboard sleeves.
Why? I guess I could blame all this inertia on the busyness of life, on the demands of parenting a toddler. But to be honest, this inertia of mine is because I haven’t made the effort. It is that simple. That awfully simple.
This year, God is asking me to make the effort. So. That’s my one word. Effort.
When I looked up effort in the dictionary, I came across this meaning: a determined attempt. This year, that is what I am doing. I’m not looking for perfection, I am just determined to attempt.
Don’t get me wrong. God is not asking me to try harder, as if by sheer will I can become who He designed me to be. But with my one word, God is calling me to examine my character. I found that my natural inclination is towards procrastination and laziness. I like the easy way. I watch too much daytime TV. It is a crying shame that I know that Matt Lauer wasn’t at work on Friday.
So, I am in the process of rearranging my days, so I can make the effort. It might mean getting up earlier, turning off Kathie Lee and Hoda, it might mean calling that friend and scheduling a coffee date even though it might not be convenient. In short, I am determined to attempt that whichever God has put on my heart, whether it is as practical and mundane as keeping house or as sacred as pouring over His word.
With that being said, I am now gonna close the laptop, and get to work. I have some hangers to see to.
Feb
Doing What Comes Unnaturally
My One Word jumped up and slapped me in the face on January 30. Not a very nice thing to do, considering the word is gentle.
My husband and I were taking our daughter to a skating party that day. He said something to me in the car that made me mad. Just a couple days later, I cannot for the life of me remember what he said. But I responded like a spoiled brat, spewing sarcasm at him. Then I looked out the window. Right next to our car was one of my very close friends, sitting in the front seat of her van, waiting for a sleeping child to wake before going into the skating rink.
The thought of her seeing my ugly display struck panic in my heart. Never mind that I had insulted my husband and grieved the Holy Spirit. I felt the worldly grief of “getting caught.” Later, true spiritual grief came at the realization that I could be so bitter one moment with a member of my family, then turn around and act sweet and charming to friends and total strangers at a party.
I think gentle is sort of a boring My One Word. Yet, I want a gentle heart, a genuinely gentle heart. Not one that shows up for duty during public moments, or when everything is going my way. Not one that appears gentle on the surface, while inside I am pouncing on someone’s shortcomings.
Apparently this gentle heart doesn’t come naturally, at least not for me. I do believe it will come supernaturally as I allow myself to be led by the Spirit. But what can I do to cooperate in the process?
I’ve only come up with a couple things: One, start each day asking the Lord to help me to forgive others’ faults as he has forgiven mine. Ephesians 4:2 says, “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Two, when tempted to speak harshly to my husband or 7-year-old daughter, I can take a few deep breaths and begin my sentence with a term of endearment. That sounds like a corny technique that doesn’t begin to tackle the iceberg below, but according to Proverbs 15:1, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” Maybe the wrath that’s turned away will be mine.
Somehow I think God is chuckling at me for thinking My One Word is boring. I just hope He’s gentle with me.
Katy Davis came to Christ four years ago, with the extremely gentle guidance of her awesome husband and the body of believers at PC3. She is a freelance writer in the surreal world of advertising.