Ode to Bumper Boats

This blog post should go to show my dedication to y'all.

This blog post is going to consists of a childhood, embarrassing  story that makes me cringe. I hate this story. But, God kind of laid this story on my heart when I was doing my quiet time last night.

Or maybe I'm just a sucker for punishment.

Set the scene.

Time- 1997. I was 8 years old- some of my most glorious days, complete with glasses, braces, a bowl cut, and about 20 more pounds then I weigh at the moment- as an 8 year old.

The Place- Gatlinburg, Tennessee, home to Dolly Parton and more fudge stands then you could count on two hands.

The More Specific Place- The putt putt course

And sure, we played putt putt. But more specifically, we decided to do the bumper boats. My cool older friend Jenna Logan had come on the trip with us ( and Jenna, if you're reading this, I thought you were the coolest because your Mom let you wear spaghetti strap tank-tops, just thought you should know) and she had done bumper boats with her family, so I had to do them too. And I had to drive myself.

Even though I had never driven a bumper boat before.

Even though I could barely walk without falling.

Even though I was a complete and total klutz.

My mom wouldn't let me wear spaghetti strap tank tops ( in hindsight Mom, thanks for that. Chubby girl in spaghetti straps? Never pretty.) so this bumper boat was my sign of independence.

I got in the bumper boat.

I pretended to listen to the directions given by the unsmiling teenaged boy.

I grabbed the steering wheel, pulled back, and I was off into the wild blue yonder.

Or, atleast I thought I was.

I made it out to the very center of the pool. And I tried to turn. But instead, my boat began turning in a circle. And it kept turning,

And turning,

And turning.

My boat would do nothing else but make donuts in the dead center of the pool.

I pulled on the steering wheel. I tried using my body weight to maneuver the boat in a different direction. And soon, when I could do nothing else because of the immense motion sickness and dizziness I felt, I did what any independent, 8 year old young woman would do-

I cried.

And then, it only got worse. I heard the sound from off the in the distance. It's high and shrieking pitch piercing me to the core of my being.

The whistle to bring your boats back in.

And while everyone began to bring their boats in to dock, I  could do nothing but spin. And spin. And spin.

And cry.

Any cry.

Any cry.

Imagine a chubby, glasses wearing, little girl with a bowl cut, crying, no bawling in the middle of an extremely blue pool, spinning around and around on a bumper boat. The sight is tragic, humiliating and hilarious all at the same time.

I knew logically my parents ( who were off to the side, laughing- except for good old Daddy Jo, he felt sympathy for his clumsy daughter) wouldn't let me stay out there forever. I knew that eventually someone would have to come and get me. ( That would be the unsmiling teenage boy. When he took a "rescue" bumper boat to come out and get me, I managed to bump my bumper boat off his 3 times before he could finally put a rope around me and drag me in). I knew that I wasn't going to be stuck in this spinning hell forever. But all I could do was look at the spinning world around me, and see what was holding me back.

The same thing happened to the disciples. ( Well, not exactly. There were no bumper boats at the time).

Jesus had just finished feeding the five thousand (go Jesus!) and he told the disciples to get on a boat and meet him at the other side. So, the disciples, got on a boat, took it out to the water, and set sail.

Jesus, on the other hand, went on a mountain side to pray.

As the disciples were out to sea, a storm came about. Their boat was rocking with the waves, and I imagine they were feeling the same kind of queasiness I had felt. ( Although, I imagine John hadn't just hoarded a whole funnel cake for himself- first mistake of the day). And, because they were human, the disciples could feel but one emotion- fear.

And then they look out on the water and they see Jesus- not in a boat, not in a canoe, not doing some breast strokes, no, walking on water. And you would think, after all this time and seeing all these miracles, the disciples would merely just believe the son of God could do something as easy as walk on water. But, no, that wasn't the case either.

²⁶ When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.

²⁷ But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

²⁸ “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

²⁹ “Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.³⁰ But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

³¹ Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

Here's the thing about this whole scenario. The disciples asked to be saved from the storm and God provided for them. Peter asked for proof, and Jesus gave it to him. Jesus gave Peter the power to walk on water, and all he could do was look around, see the danger around him, instead of looking ahead, and seeing the salvation being offered. Jesus literally had his hand offered out to Peter, and he preferred to fear, then to have the faith required to do the act the Lord had given him the skills to do.

How many times have I done that in my life? God puts me in a scary situation, whether to push me to grow, or test my faith, and even though he has equipped me with all the skills possible, I still choose to be afraid. I still choose to doubt His promises.

I am in these scary situations, in my own rocking ( or in my case, spinning) boat, and I think that the Lord has no idea what I'm going through.

Here's the kicker of the story- the whole time that the disciples was caught in the storm, remember where Jesus was?

He went up to a mountainside. A mountainside that is taller, and overlooks the things surrounding it. And although it doesn't say this in the Bible, I choose to imagine that mountainside overlooked the lake that the disciples were bobbing and weaving on.


Even in the scariest situations in life, God is constantly there watching our every move. He is never going to put us in a situation that is bigger, or stronger then him, because face it, there is nothing bigger or stronger then our God.

And if we can learn to test our faith,to not look at  the distractions, or the temptations or the threats around us, and plant our eyes firmly on Jesus, on the hand of salvation before offered to us we will be given the ability to do all that the Lord has planned for us to do. Even walk on water.

And in my case, if I had just taken a little time, stopped focusing on the spinning world around me, and the jeers and laughter of my family, and paid a little more attention to the steering wheel in front of me, what I was trained and able to do, I probably could pass a bumper boat ride without turning my face in shame.

All My Single Ladies

This post goes out to all my single ladies.

This is a conversation that often comes up when a large group of women, , single ones in particular, get together

"So, what would you say your type of man is?"

And everyone seems to have a different answer.

"I like a really preppy, SEC kind of a guy."

"I want someone that's more hipster, in touch with his emotions"

"I love a man that  loves animals".

"Give me a brawny man that can sing, and I'm done for".

"I've been praying for my Boaz, or my David, or anyone that's read Redeeming Love".

And we pray. And we wait. And we pray. And we wait. And we think we know exactly what we want. And we will tell anyone that's listening that we are ready for "the one" And sometimes our prayers rely not so much on God's timing, but on our own impatience.

That's what happened to the Israelites in 1 Samuel 8. They were so tired of being without a King, that they demanded that Samuel find them one, even after warnings that this wasn't God had planned for them as a nation. But yet, they insisted, as we humans often do.

 “No!” they said. “We want a king over us. ²⁰ Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles.”

And we women, so often think, even if we want to admit it or not,

"Everyone else has a boyfriend, or is married or is having a baby, and my pinterest is overflowing with wedding planning stuff. I know this guy isn't someone I should date, but I want someone that will make me feel loved, that will make me feel special."

And in the case of the Israelites, God responded to that prayer.

He brought Saul.

And the only description of Saul that is mentioned in 1 Samuel 9 is-

" ² Kish had a son named Saul, as handsome a young man as could be found anywhere in Israel, and he was a head taller than anyone else."


Sounds a lot like some of our "types" doesn't it?

But Saul was not the kind of man that Israel needed. That's probably why they never mentioned any positive characteristics- he didn't have a ton. But they were so intent on finding someone, that someone that would make their life full, that someone that would make them like all of their other friends, that they didn't even try to look at his character.

And God, in all of his wisdom and glory, knew that until His nation was being led by someone less then what he had planned for him, and until they realized the errors of their ways, that they would keep begging and whining for God to bring them anyone, anyone, to make them feel loved. And so he did. And the results were far less then perfect.

I bet they wished they'd been a little more specific about their "type" of King that they desired.

I know, as I've talked to some of my friends, and looked back on some mistakes I've made, that I wish I was more specific about the "type" of man I allowed myself to be interested in.

I know I don't want the type just to occupy my time, or the type to the movies with when I'm bored.

My type is nothing less than God's plan for me, and whoever that person may be that walks alongside of me during this plan.

So maybe, I should stop whining. And maybe I should stop begging.

And maybe I should start thinking more about just the Brawny man exterior, and look for a heart of a man that mirrors those same desires.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost- Though Sometimes, You Are.

I like to think of myself as a nomad, a wanderer of sorts. If I stay somewhere too long, I get antsy, ready to move on to the next place, the next adventure, the next moment of excitement. I thrive on change. Change is almost a constant in my life (and when I can't get any kind of significant change, I cut my bangs. Hence the bang debacle of 2011.)

After High School, I wandered to Boston.

And that summer I wandered  to Camp Woodmont, and then back to Boston again.

And during my sophomore year I almost wandered to the Disney College Program- but found myself instead wandering across the ocean to spend a semester living in a castle.

And then I wandered to North Carolina to work at a fat camp.

Then it was back to Boston- where I wandered from two different apartments in the same city.

And before I knew it, I was wandering across stage at graduation in my cowboy boots,

And packing up a U-Haul  and driving back to Atlanta to start a whole new adventure teaching second grade.

And somehow, in all that wandering, I found myself wandering away from the relationship that I should have been running towards- my relationship with the Lord.

It didn't take a lot for me to wander away from Him. A few parties here and there, sleeping in on Sundays, a new world that I had never experienced before- and it all seemed so - wonderful. And so exciting. And so fun.

And it was- I had an amazing four years full of experiences I could not have had anywhere else, and opportunities to grow and push myself outside of my comfort level(Not to mention I got to be a youtube senstation for about .5 seconds).

But still, I had wandered. And as a person who is perpetually lost knows, it's a lot easier to lose your direction then to get back where you were headed before you took that wrong turn.

But thankfully, I've got a God who is better then any GPS or search and rescue dog, who can find  Waldo ad mist a see of red and white striped turtlenecks.

It tell us in Nehemiah 1-

" Even if your exiled people are at the farthest horizon, I will gather them up from there and bring them to the place I have chosen as a dwelling for my Name".

We have a God that literally will go to the ends of the Earth to bring us back to his presence.

We have a God that knows no limits on his love- as far as the East is from the West, he will gather us up so we can dwell and abide with him.

We have a God- I have a God, that even though I wandered, and even though I went on my own path, cared enough about me that He would put me in a situation that turned me around and sent me running, no, sprinting, back into His arms.

And I have a God that opened those same arms up as though I'd never been gone.

And even now, as I've wandered to yet another city, to have yet another adventure, He is the constant in my life, a consistency that even a nomad like me needs.

A constant and unchanging love- even when I spontaneously cut off all my bangs.

Back Off Jeff Foxworthy

I've been thinking a lot about God's plan for my life lately. What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go? Can one just be a perpetual student and serve the Lord that way? Do they need a ministry for rehabilitating Toddlers and Tiaras children?

And in between all these wonderings, a little, annoying, tidbit of a thought comes creeping up in my brain-

What if, I'm just not good enough for all of these awesome plans that I think God's got for me? What if I don't measure up? What can God possibly have for me?

I mean really- I haven't opened up any orphanages in Uganda. I'm not a particularly gifted public speaker, and on a good day, I still can't name all of the books in the bible. I can't even beat the American Bible Challenge, and that show is hosted by Jeff Foxworthy. I should be able to beat a show that is hosted by a member of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. And in creep those thoughts again...

I'm not smart enough.

I'm not talented enough.

God can't possibly use a loser at American Bible Challenge.

But tonight, when I was reading Isaiah 56:

"Let no eunuch complain "I am only a dry tree".
Here is what the Lord says:
To the eunuch who keep my Sabbaths,
who choose what pleases me
and holds fast to my covenant
to them I will give within my temple and its walls
a memorial and a name
better than sons and daughters
I will give them an everlasting name
that will endure forever"

I was assured of what I really have going for me.

Now, for those of who who don't know eunuch is, and don't want to read the wiki link that was just posted, let me put it this way. They were the bottom of the Bible social totem pole. They were of little to no importance in social standings. They would have been featured on "Dirty Jobs"- Old Testament Edition.

If we're talking in Harry Potter terms, eunuch = squib. Bottom line- you didn't want to be a eunuch.

But here in Isaiah, when the Lord was confirming his promises, the first group of people, not the last group of people, or the people who he invited to the party fifteen minutes before the party started, but the first people he chooses to reference were the social outcasts of society. The people that no one wanted to be. The group who probably had people telling them-

You're not smart enough.

You're talented enough.

You are a loser.

And the Lord, in His wisdom and glory replies, speaking over all those outside voices and says- "Follow me, keep my commands and I'll show you-

How I can use the wisdom I gave you,

And how I can use the talent I gave you.

And I don't care how many rounds you can outsmart Jeff Foxworthy- I am calling you mine. I am giving you a far greater gift then any grand prize on a game show could give you. You get to be my child. A promise that never changes and goes on forever."

And for me, tonight, that is enough. It's more then enough.

A Finely Decorated Temple

I'm a woman who likes clothes. I admit it. I'm a lover of fashion. As Sarah Jessica Parker would put it- " I like my money where I can see it- hanging in my closet".  I like to look nice. Our bodies are temples, and I like mine to be  decorated. Some may call me bougie, then after learning about my affinity to thrift store blazers may label me boughetoo, but I simply claim to take pride in my appearance.

Many of my mornings are spent in front of my closet. And whenever I get dressed, I like to base my outfit upon a theme.

Some mornings I may crave a hipster look, taking me back to my Emerson days,

Or something a little more sophisticated.

I might want a little Troop 3888 throwback,

or I may want to express my more outlandish side.

I may just want to emulate my favorite southern butter loving hero,

or since I am in grad school, I may strive to be a bit more professional.

Either way, every morning I get up, and make a conscious effort on how I look and what I put on. And tonight, when I was reading Colossians 3, I discovered a theme I may miss some mornings when I'm getting ready for my day.

Love.

That's right. Love. It says in Colossians 3 " above all these virtues, put on love".

To love is a conscious effort, as planned out as the clothes we put on in the morning.

I forget this sometimes. I think since I'm a Christian, and since the God that loves me dearly lives inside of me that to love others would be easy. And really, it's just not. Anyone that tells you otherwise is lying.

Sometimes people make you mad. And sometimes people annoy you. And sometimes people do things that are just rude and hateful and plain ol' rotten.

And let's not pretend that it's always other people's faults. Sometimes we're having a bad hair day and that alone puts us over the ledge. Sometimes we are so wrapped up in our own problems that we treat other in a way that no one deserves.  Just because we love Jesus doesn't mean that hearts and rainbows and unicorns ooze from our pores. And it doesn't mean that we always love in the way we should.

But, I wonder how much different my day would be, if I got up, opened my closet and along with my sophisticated southern themed outfit of the day, I put on love. And as I applied the mascara that guaranteed my lashes to be 4 times the volume that they were when I woke up, I took a moment, and made a decision to put on love. So that way, when the person in front of me in class makes you me stupid, or I get cut off in traffic, or I'm just having a bad day where everything is going wrong, I will be reminded that I, along with the clothes and the makeup and the finely coiffed bangs, put on love. And maybe it might make loving just a little easier.

Love is not an accident. It's a conscious decision everyday.