Long Johns

This week I was reminded of the old old old movie, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. For those of you who haven't seen it...it is worth watching on a day when you are snowed in and have lots of time to kill.

The reason I thought of it was my newfound fascination and appreciation for long underwear! I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be so thankful and grateful for one of the ugliest pieces of clothing known to mankind. Nor did I think it would be so easy to find. They were right there in the Target lingerie section although they can hardly be classified as lingerie!

So, I went from a bikini on the beaches of San Diego to long johns in the winter of Ohio...but I am happy and healthy!

Oh- my correlation to the movie is that there is a hilarious long john scene where the girls steal their cloths to wash them and the guys are left in nothing but their long underwear.. They proceed to put on a pretty great dance routine while waiting for their clothes but currently I can not find the inspiration to dance around in mine!!

Bachelor Style

Four years! That is exactly how long it has taken me to convince Emmanuel that eating his meals directly out of a pan is just not cool. I know it saves on dishes, I know it has a handle, but please please please get a plate or a bowl!

My four years of work were undone this last Sunday when our Senior Pastor spoke in our marriage class. He was relating how he and his wife differ and compliment each other in their marriage. One of the examples he used was the fact that when his wife is not home, he eats directly out of the pan. No need for a plate or bowl!

Sigh...I have no proof yet, I still see dirty plates and bowls, but I think Farberware just became the new Mikasa again.

Guardrails

I was seven years old, it was blizzard conditions. I had on a skirt and fuzzy tights.

I should have been safe and sound in my second grade class room, but instead I was hiding my body in a convoluted guardrail.

I should have been practicing my multiplication tables and instead I was two miles from my recess playground, shivering with cold until I became unconscious.

I had run away from school. The reasons were multi faceted- even for a seven year old brain. Now I found myself on Vorhees Rd, a major 4 lane street in my town. As the snow came beating down, I put my little legs behind a post and curved my body into the metal to keep warm. The guardrail probably helped keep me alive that day.

I think about guardrails alot as I drive and see them. Big long strips of metal designed to protect us from going off the road. They can stretch for miles! They act as buffers for drivers on windy curves, keep traffic seperated by lanes and even create overlooks into beautiful valleys and mountains. They weren't designed for seven year olds to hide in!

Do you think God has guardrails set up for us? Little milestones posted here and there to keep us on the right path? I do. I can look back over my shoulder and see them clearly. Looking forward is more difficult but I trust they will pop up at just the right time. Just when there is a dangerous ravine or a gorgeous experience to take in, that spiritual guardrail will be there.

Those spiritual buffers are not meant for hiding. I am not supposed to find one on my path and cling to it for a long period of time. They are meant to be a part of the journey, not the stopping or hiding point. I challenge myself to stay my course, keep moving forward in my relationship and knowledge of God. No hiding, no stopping and no running away, cherishing my guardrails in the proper way.

Healing Touch

Last night was a tragic end to a great weekend. One of my best friends came and spent the weekend with me. We shopped, cooked, talked and went to a hockey game. We had a marvelous time together! I will post some pictures soon.

Emmanuel and I went to the Cleveland airport to drop her off last night and came back home by around 8pm. I got out of his car, went around the back of mine and twisted my ankle on the driveway. My ankle rolled, my knee crashed into the cement and my head banged against the garage tracking. Thankfully the wood and not the metal.

So I limped into the house, crying my eyeballs out. Not knowing if I should hold my head or my knee while I hobbled. Eman is fussing all around...picking up my spilled purse, trying to lift me up the two steps. It was a fiasco. Guess falls happen more the closer you get to 30!

After I got on the couch and Eman took my shoe off, he promptly brought his smelly balm down. I had a feeling it would help reduce the swelling so I let him put it on. Flinching and groaning as he massaged my injured ligaments. I suffered through the pain of his touch. Then about 30 minutes later, he wanted to come touch my ankle again. No thanks Big Guy...it is resting comfortably.

Then we went to bed and he wanted to touch it again! Are you a crazy man? I just hobbled up the steps and managed to get comfortable in bed. It does not need more touching!

My perception, if he touched me it would hurt. His perception, he wanted to comfort and somehow bring a healing calmness by touching the hurt muscles.

As I sit at my work desk in my slippers (after taking the elevator to my cubicle) I am thinking about how much my experience last night is just like my relationship with God. I really want to dicate to Him how much I want Him to touch me. Especially if it is a sensitive area, a hurting place in my heart.

I let Him put his soothing balm on it, only if I want it. Once I deem it is too much then I push Him away. Are we really the best judge of what we need? Is my place of pain the most rational time to reason what can heal my hurt? Emotions, shock, pain and fear are all dicating what I think I need.

So next time I fall, or next time my Father is probing into my heart, I hope that I can shut down my complaints and crys and let the healing touch wash over me.