Staring At The Stars

Some nights I like to lie out on my deck.  Sometimes on my patio bench. Other times on a blanket spread out on the deck floor.  I lay on my back staring up at the stars, usually with headphones playing an encouraging playlist in my ears.  Seriously; the name of the playlist is "encouraging." 

I ponder the stars and the dark abyss surrounding them.  I take note of the moon.  Some nights I get to observe raccoons or other nocturnal neighborhood critters.  But always I feel communion with God.  A yearning in my heart.  Questions rolling from the confines of my mind. 

And though I don't speak out loud, and no one speaks back to me, I feel heard.  There are nights I feel as if I wrestle with my thoughts alone; spinning my wheels trying to find a deeper understanding or meaning in a current experience.  The best nights are the nights I feel encouraged.  I feel content.  And like a gentle nudge I feel spoken to.  

Sometimes I  find it difficult to make decisions or make sense of my feelings.  Other times, I just know.  An urge, a simple word or phrase.  I feel inclined to look up; acknowledge my maker.  And acknowledge that I am but one soul in a world of millions. It humbles me.  I also feel loved; because I am heard in a sea of so many.  I am heard even when I wrestle with the idea that I am made for more than the way I am living life day by day.

A familiar struggle I wrestle with is that very idea.  I feel like I am made for more.  Yet what I give to life does not always feel genuine or true.  It pains me to become aware of my own selfish behaviors.  It also opens doors of opportunity for growth and change.  The process doesn't feel simple as it requires honesty and vulnerability, which can leave the heart feeling raw.

This is where grace and mercy step in.  And I wrestle with them as well.  I wrestle with the idea that I deserve them sometimes.  And yet my faith tells me they are free.  No strings attached.  Gifts.  Just dare to believe; and they are mine.  Dare to trust, and I'll find redemption.  Not because of what I do, but because of what has been done for me by Christ Jesus.  

It's not an easy thing to wrap my mind around.  And I know I don't understand it all.  But I do know I feel loved because of his story.  I feel love more than I have ever felt it given to me by any person in my life.  It inspires me.  It encourages me to live; truly live.  And it fills me with so much love I want to share it with others.  I want to give it away with a simple smile, a friendly conversation, and a tender heart.  I want to love others as I have felt loved.  It's genuine.  And  it's what I was made for.  I'm a lover, not a fighter.  Which one will you choose to be?

A Little Oversight

I rode one of my favorite trails today.  A 10 mile loop of single track, comprised of a lot of roller coaster hills and switchbacks through a sparsely dense wood that runs along the river.  I was feeling reflective, focused and confident, so I decided to ride the loop twice.  When I finished there was a guy at the back of the vehicle next to mine getting his bike down.  As is common on the trails, we began talking about the current trail conditions.  This led to talking about the local mountain biking group, volunteer trail  work days, and the variety of local trails.

I'm pretty friendly with anyone I meet at the trails.  I can strike up a conversation about bikes with just about anyone these days, and it's a topic I thoroughly enjoy discussing.  So we're talking trails, and I'm noticing that he's rather nice looking.  I suddenly begin to feel nervous when it occurs to me that I am a single again.  He's attractive, he rides a mountain bike, volunteers, AND he can hold an intelligent conversation.  Bonus.  

I'm beginning to feel rather flustered, so I mention something about possibly seeing him around at a trail work day sometime, which comes out all wrong and sounds more like "Maybe I'll see you around at one of those mountain bike meetings."  

I get in my car and realize I've forgotten to take off my biking gloves.  My heart quickens and my nervousness begins to feed on itself as I become more aware of my lack of focus.  I strip my gloves off and begin trying to busy myself with the process of leaving.  When I think I'm ready, I roll down my window, turn on my tunes and put it in reverse.  I barely put my foot on the gas when I simultaneously hear the guy shout at me and a bit of a crunching or grating noise.  

I knew in a second what I had done.  I didn't even have to get out and look.  In fact, I wished I didn't have to get out and look.  I left my bike leaning against the back of the car.  I never even put it up on the bike rack.  Hurriedly, I unbuckled my seat belt, turned the car off and stepped out to survey the damage.  

The bike was still leaning against the trunk, and one of my pedals was wedged under the bumper.  With hands covering half my face in embarrassment, I mumble a question about whether or not I will need to pull my car forward to get the bike out.  About that time, the man, who would no longer look me in the eye as he spoke to me, tugged on the bike, and it slid out from its position against the trunk of the car.  His face suggested he must have been just as embarrassed for me as I was for myself.  The bike appeared to be unharmed, and I began muttering about how embarrassed I was as I began strapping the bike up on the rack.  I thanked him at least once and rambled, "Oh, that's me!  I get so busy talking I completely forget I haven't put my bike on my rack!  My brother is always reminding me how I poorly multitask when I'm making conversation!  I guess there's some truth to it!"  And who the hell knows what else poured from my mouth as I nervously chattered.  A man parked on the other side of the car next to mine shouted, "Isn't he a savior!  That's a good man right there!"  

This is when I take notice of other people in the parking lot.  Across the way from us sat a group of three men I had confidently passed out on the trail.  They were staring of course.  An audience!  Just my luck!  It's never taken so long to get my bike on its rack so I could drive away from a trail.  I thanked my hero one last time and tried to manage a smile as I was driving away.  I kept thinking, "You can laugh about this.  It's ok.  Dear Lord, I cannot believe I just did that.  This will be great blog material! You can laugh.  Fake it til you make it.  Anytime now.  You can laugh."

I'm telling my daughter about the story when I get home, and in her sweetly innocent way she says,"Well I guess you won't be going on a date with that guy, will you?"  We both share hearty laughs as I shake my head again at my ability to make a shocking first impression.  This isn't a first for me.  I have a slew of memorable first impressions.  Like the time I was staring at a guy as I backed out of a parking space, and backed right into a concrete post in the process.  That time I had sped off and pulled over later to survey the damage.  Once I was on a first date, and as my date and I walked across an intersection to the restaurant on the corner, the platform wedge sandal on one of my feet tipped over and sent me spilling onto the street.  

I may not be graceful.  I might have my scatterbrained moments.  But if you hang out with me, you get guaranteed entertainment, and that my friends......is priceless.