Really?

The spare tire was stolen off my jeep last night. While parked on the quiet side street next to my building. At the top of the block where 4 streets intersect. Under a streetlight that has been out for months. Really? Joe has been saying that a lot lately, with a very sarcastic bent to it. We had gone out to the Poconos Saturday and Sunday to have some quiet before the surgery. While out there, Joe made the comment that he wanted the weekend to be a first step towards getting back to myself. I've been so fearful, so in need of control lately that I jump at my own shadow. And we had a great time. I read, worked on my creative play lesson plans which will eventually become a book, and just generally relaxed. It was wonderful. And then on the way home, it couldn't make it's mind up if it wanted to be rainy or sunny, so it was both. I said, as we turned a corner, "Should be a rainbow somewhere." Now despite what that beautiful symbol has come to stand for in the last 20 years, I still see the rainbow as a representation of God's promises to me. Not just that He won't destroy the world by flood again, but that He keeps his promises. As we played tag through the trees with it, the rainbow appeared to be very vivid at times and faint at others. I assumed this was due to the varying amounts of sun. Imagine my joy when we came to a clearing and saw that it was a double rainbow that seemed to be touching down on one of the golf courses we'll be playing with dad in 2 weeks. Kind of an inside joke between God and me. Double His promises, double His blessings and a golf course to boot. And then today. But as everything raged inside me this morning, "How dare they! Is there no safety and security left in my neighborhood? It was probably some crackhead who sold it so they could buy more drugs!" I was then reminded of a newsletter from a friend who works in Newark, in a much worse neighborhood than mine. He tells the story of coming to Newark to visit his grandfather, to essentially get his grandfather to give up the crazy idea of ministering in Newark. In the midst of talking to his grandfather, they come upon a crackhead on their doorstep, bleeding from her head from a fall. My friend watches as his grandfather cleans up this woman and then sends her to a shelter. But that's not the part of the story that stuck in my head this morning. A year or so later, after Danny has responded to the call and is doing amazing things in Newark, who should he find on his doorstep but that same crackhead, bloody and near unconsciousness. He follows in his grandfather's footsteps reminded that but for some different circumstances, it could be him, bleeding and strung out. I have built for myself an invisible prison of safety and security. I told myself that I could live in this neighborhood as long as we didn't get robbed or our house broken into. Our old car, the Geo Metro, Herbie, was broken into twice. It hurt at the time, but now we laugh about it. Today it's not so easy to laugh. Funny, I can almost feel the war of Romans 7 almost playing itself out in me. I so want to say, "it's only stuff. God is bigger. I'm ok. He's still in control." But the other side is screaming, "God! Why did you come make me live here with THESE people. The crackheads and people who have no decency or self control, who care more about their clothes and their ride than their neighborhood, people who steal other peoples tires!" And so I see that God's double blessing hasn't left (ironically, once we got back on the freeway on the way home, there was a remnant of the rainbow in the sky until it got dark. God's promises are just as true in the city as they are in the country.) His blessing hasn't left because He hasn't left. He brought me here. I know that. And my security isn't in me being able to provide all my needs, but in Him providing. My safety isn't in a car alarm that would alert me to the crackheads, but that He hasn't let me be harmed since I've been here. To quote a president, the only thing I have to fear is fear itself, and the word says that perfect love drives out fear. Pray with me today that perfect love wins.

New Horizons

So with the surgery looming on Thursday, we headed out to the Poconos just for a day since we won't be able to come out again til Dad's big birthday weekend. It's so quiet here. Joe called me out on the deck this morning to see a deer staring at us from the hill behind the house. Maybe 200 yards away. (speedy was going nuts, tried to crawl under the deck gate!) This time, when we got in the car to come out, there wasn't the usual pressure of "get there, get there..." stress over traffic, worrying about Speedy. (he still puked in the car, but neither Joe or I got really angry over it.) Lately, I've been trying to walk and sit without hunching my shoulders, hold my head a little higher, stress a little less. It feels good. I've been asking myself some tough questions. If I never get to act again, will I be ok with that? Am I satisfied to write as long as it's providing us a secure income? Can I be secure in what God has, rather than what I feel I must provide? Jennn made a comment recently that got me thinking. She told me I wasn't satisfied with where I was. That I was always wanting more. Some of it comes from being a slight perfectionist, but lately I've been meditating on Philippians 4. One of the few things I can meditate on because I actually memorized it. Paul says: "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation." I need to learn that secret. And I need to distinguish in my mind that being content with where I am doesn't mean not striving for who God wants me to be, nor does it mean that I'm being complacent and lazy. It means I'm ok as I am. I'm seeking the Lord, I'm asking for His direction and trying to follow it. I don't need to know what the one hundredth step is going to be. I need to simply step in the next footstep of God I see. This bit of revelation could be due to the fact that there was an Indiana Jones marathon on last night (we watched the end of Temple of Doom and then Last Crusade) And though I fell asleep through my favorite part (where he steps off onto the invisible bridge... the most amazingly spiritual cinematography I've ever seen!) It reminded me that though I may see the Knight on the other side and know I want to go there, I must take that terrifying first step into nothingness to get there. I think for the last 2 years I've been pacing back and forth on the ledge, debating about the step, reasoning out the step, theorizing about the other side and the Knight and the choice about the cup of Christ when I finally get there. Now it's time to take the step. Yes? I think my all time favorite movie line comes from the end of that movie too. After the Nazi guy drinks from the ornate gold cup and shrivels up and dies, the Knight looks at Indy and the chick and says simply: "He chose...... Poorly." Oh to be Indy and choose wisely. But first to that step....

Freedom to Change. Or not.

So lately I've been feeling a bit more free. Could be that Academy is finally done for the school year, or that ASC is winding down, or perhaps that the days are getting longer and warmer. Or it could be that I've felt a bit more free to share my feelings with some folks who have been in my life for a while, but I've never really let them know what was happening in my head. Both of them made comments to the effect of "That's going on inside you? I had no idea, you hide it so well!" Well maybe I'm done hiding. It's not really that much has changed as far as the battle fronts that I've been fighting on. I'm still struggling with how to handle the drama team and be an actress at the same time. I'm still struggling with my weight and how to be happy in who I am right now. (I accuse Joe all the time of not loving me as I am and waiting for me to change, but I'm doing the same thing to myself.) But I don't feel as guilty for having a lazy day. Or saying "no, I can't do that today." On the other hand, I've got more ideas in my head for the start of books. Steve came up to visit and we played card games and board games til midnight. I'm going to the Poconos this weekend. And it all feels good. I can exist like this. Yes, I'll continually be striving for more, and yes, there are big things on the horizion (try coordinating a Night of One Acts from a sick bed... i dare ya!) But I will be ok. In less than a week, I'll be having my surgery finally. I'll be laid up from usual activities for at least 4 months, but after that, the sky is the limit. I am my own limit, and I would love to make sure that I am limitless. Are you?