Bringing Faith to Life
Archive for February, 2015
Enough
1
I am enough.
Not, I have had enough!
Rather,
I have what I need for whatever may come.
What I lack will be supplied,
My surplus will be distributed.
Nothing of me will be left behind.
Nothing, but what I give away.
God never fails to replace what I give away.
I am more than enough.
Through Him.
Dear Keurig
0
You are so convenient. I can get what I want immediately. Power. Poke. Press. Presto!
I have my solo cup of java and toss the evidence. Next customer.
But what of the
sound of grinding?
smell of brewing?
delightful waiting that stirs the taste buds as I watch the beverage climb its way up my pot?
What of the pouring in cup after cup as I share it with friends and family and we sit around a table for a friendly conversation or a good laugh?
Oh, but this allows everyone to have just what they want! Their own private blend! Suited to their taste buds, their preference, their caffeination, their strength.
Keurig, how you have met our needs to have just what we want at the expense of what we really need: a willingness and desire to satisfy everyone around the table, including but not only ourselves.
You seemed so nice when we first met.
Now I see you for who you really are.
Thanks anyway.
Sincerely,
Wendy LeBolt, coffee-lover
Athlete, Philosopher, Artist
0We are all athletes, because we have a body.
We are all philosophers, because we think.
We are all artists, because we create.
We are three in one.
Our body declines and we battle to sustain it.
Our mind forgets and we battle to remember.
Our imagination creates anew.
What we have always done and the plans we had, we re-imagine,
to accomplish what we never knew or dreamed we could do.
Athlete-Philosopher-Artist
Three in One
Resting Place
0Work hard, and never let up, so when it comes to you, you deserve it.
It’s the mantra.
It’s the message.
It’s how we raise our children and ignite our workforce and justify promotion and pay.
But Christ says, “No really. I want you to have this.”
And you look out upon this and it’s what you have always wanted, even though you have never wanted for anything.
Who would turn down a gift like this?
Rest in me, Love.
I have come to prepare a place for you.
Here.
Welcome Warmth
1
It is amazing how nature’s handiwork can be so diverse.
Hardly could it be dealt by the same hand.
Certainly no human hand.
Hold us close.
Keep us warm and bring us safely back to you.
Child’s Play
0
How many people don’t step toward God because they aren’t sure of the right direction?
I don’t know either. I just lean and, rather than fall on my face, one foot steps out to catch me.
God’s like that.
Right or left? Good.
And again. Good.
I know this game! We used to call it Hot or Cold.
This is the adult version and I’m playing for keeps.
Balance is temporary, centered is forever
0A little more here. A little more over there.
Up a little.
Down a little.
How we seek level. Even. Balanced.
We can help each other balance. Lend a hand, a perspective, a nip, a tuck.
But, to be centered.
On the page
On the wall
Of life
God’s
“Masterpiece”
First things first: Who’s in charge of the calendar?
2
If I don’t carve out time for priority items on my calendar, I can be sure that every other thing in life will take their place. Then I will surely try to shoehorn God in somewhere.
How different things would be if I put God first and let Him show me where everything else is meant to fit.
And what needs to go.
Lent, here I come!
Messy on the Moguls
1
There is just something majestic about the view from the chairlift, mountains of rolling powder speckled with evergreens and interstitial aspens. The sky rising above them is an impossible blue, and the bright orb of sun insists you avert your eyes until green branches deflect the intensity and invite a moment of marvel. White sparkles dance as the wind whispers in a solo performance just for you. It makes you want to sing!
My revelry is periodically interrupted by the swooshing and scraping of skiers below as a montage of color and form ebb and flow some thirty or forty feet below my dangling feet. Off goes speed racer at break neck speed while granny traverses smoothly and gracefully. Newcomer is stiff and purposeful. Small one is effortless. There goes Tigger in a striped one-piece jumpsuit, not to be outdone by Pooh and the Chick fil-A cow.
This slope is marked “blue” for “intermediate” skiers, and the signs say “more difficult.” Intermediate obviously 
spans a wide range, each one with his own style and flourish. No two alike, they twist and turn, bend and bow; several topple and crash or slide to a panicked stop. The human motion is painfully at odds with the peace and order all around them. We intervene and bring disorder with us, all in our own way. What a mess!
There is no one right way to do this, I think, as I disembark at the top and boldly enter the fray. When the pitch is gentle and the slope is groomed I am effortless, swishing smoothly right and left; I OWN this trail. But the second it gets steep, or there are bumps, or trees, or other skiers in my way, my form deteriorates. I stomp, skid, dig, waver, flail and panic. In short, I’m a mess. I’m sure THAT provided plenty of entertainment for the folks on the lift overhead. I take a deep breath and adjust my goggles, ready to start again with humility and some semblance of control restored.
How like life is this skiing. I have freely chosen the “more difficult” slope, but it is up to me to find my way down. I am pretty doggone capable on the cruisers, but when the going gets tough, my mettle is tested. I am tempted to panic and sit back on my skies, but that would make things worse. The capable skier leans down the hill, toward the steepness, accepting the risk. The moment I do, I gain control and can turn and maneuver and regain my balance. In the next challenge I am better, more 
confident and more capable. I’m less mess, more me.
The smooth cruising may feel good, but it’s the bumps in my terrain that challenge me to perfect my technique. I have to be better to navigate the tough stuff. That’s good to know, because life doesn’t hand us too many cruisers. It offers us way more moguls and some pretty steep stuff, again and again. That can get pretty messy.
Thank goodness the Lord of the landscape I am traversing has a view that is higher than the chairlift and a touch closer than the snow beneath my skies. How clever to have created us with such variety that each one must discover his own best navigation on the slopes of life, one run at a time.
Bad luck wins only if we let it
2Would you rather be lucky or good?
I mean, you can work your whole life to be as good as you can be, better than everyone else, the best in the business, top of your game and then, in an instant, a little bad luck takes the game away from you.
I’m not sure this description holds for Malcolm Butler, rookie corner back for the Patriots, whose terrific defense denied the ball to Seahawk’s Jermaine Kearse, until luck took a turn and the bobble, twice tipped, once kicked, landed deftly in the hands of the Patriot’s wide receiver.
Good is not good enough when luck has the upper hand.
But that’s when great steps up. Great is full-bodied. It rises up even in controversy, even in consequence, even in bad luck. It’s the ability to put behind us what went before, so we can focus clearly and certainly on the moment at hand, even if we have been at fault and even if we have been unfairly judged or tested beyond our abilities. Great wipes the slate clean and lives the next moment, even in the face of despairing teammates or finger-pointing critics, even knowing the camera is focused squarely on us. Great focuses on the job to be done and the preparation supplied, undistracted.
Butler had this moment, and he executed. A pick on the goal line to seal the Super Bowl. No, the Kearse catch would not be the defining image from Super Bowl XLIX. It would not be “the Catch.” That would come on the next play. When the game invited Butler to step up and make the play for the team that had prepared him.
Lucky or good? If I have to choose, I’m going with good. Lucky doesn’t last. And it threatens to swipe my confidence and erase my eloquence. I’d rather be good, because you can build on good to make it better and better. That helps me up, even when the other guy is lucky.
The Lucky life is slippery and it puts my destiny in someone else’s hands. I’d rather take hold of that myself and for the sake of my teammates. Life, after all, is an individual sport played on a team. I’m in it for the win. Why leave that to chance?