Beauty in Being Known: Take Two

We all have an inherent need to be known. Community. Camaraderie. Kinship. Kindred Spirits. Whatever you call it and whatever personality type you may be, none of us were created to be loners all the time.

I am an introvert by design and find it difficult to put myself out there, because extended periods of time with people, especially people I don't know very well wear me out. I am your classic "drained by others" kind of gal. I can make small talk. I have lots of experience with it. But if I am forced to chat inanely for hours or for multiple events night after night, I come home emotionally, mentally and physically blitzed -- desiring my pajamas (sounds like llamas), a cup of tea, a blanket and sometimes a dimly lit room.

On the other hand, I do find myself lonely at times and longing to be known by someone, anyone,(maybe not just anyone) but you know what I mean. I seek to find that person who will take the time to invest in me, figure out what makes me tick and be a student of the craziness that makes me  . . . well . . . ME!

As a direct result of the many moves I have made over the years, I have gotten to know a number of different people and they me. However, due to living places for less than 10 years a pop (sometimes as few as 15 consecutive months), I have sown broadly in the category of friendship without sowing deeply much at all. Acquaintances are great. But being recognized is far preferable to drifting around a community as a virtual vapor or feeling like you've donned your Harry Potter invisibility cloak every single day.

I guess that's kind of where I find myself these days . . .

Finding myself in this place again makes me appreciate those friends I have gained along the way who have taken the time to know me more than a little over a short period of time.

I ran across a book a while back that reminded me of one of those friends:

This friend knew I loved drawing and thought of me when she saw this book. I love it. I love that she knew me well enough to pick something she knew would touch my heart and leave a lasting impression I won't soon forget.

While I am ultimately glad for the paths that have been briefly crossed, my thoughts now linger on those relationships that have lasted a lifetime -- a far smaller and yet far deeper group overall.

I can't possibly discuss the beauty in being known without mentioning my dearest bosom friend of all time. ML and I have known each other for well more than half our lives. We went to see "Arthur" together, for goodness' sakes . . . in the theater.

We know everything there is to know about each other. We are the ones who originated this phrase below:

We do know too much (if that is truly possible in the presence of a lifelong bosom friend), and so much comfort comes from having someone know everything about you and like you anyway. ML is my favorite comedienne, my lifelong cheerleader, my sense of reason, my accountability partner, my sounding board, my shoulder to cry on, my closest thing to a sister, my friend.

She has been and forever will be the one who keeps me grounded while encouraging me to fly. She knows by the sound of my voice what mood I am in, and she can usually tug me out of a bad one in a way no one else can. She is my solid rock and my anchor, while I am her free spirit and tie dye-wearing hippie who chases rainbows and dances in the rain. She accepts me warts and all, and I do the same for her. We have witnessed and often prompted change in one another, but the beauty of being known is revealed in the assurance that change is not required or demanded in order for the relationship to be sustained. 

What happens to me when ML isn't available, when those closest to me physically can't assuage my level of loneliness, when having the people at Sam's Club greet me or driving out of my way for the crossing guards to wave at me just isn't enough in the "knowing me" department?

Hear me loud and clear here! I am NOT saying I turn to the Lord last. I am not saying He is a final result and that He doesn't walk with me through all the relational twists and turns in my life. He is the first One I turn to in all circumstances. I guess what I am saying is God assures me over and over again in His Word of His power to know me beyond the level of any of my earthly friends -- no matter the longevity or depth they may achieve.

Rest in that today. You are known. You are not forgotten. You are not invisible. You are His precious child, and He sees you regardless of where you are in any of your earthly relationships!

We can confidently pray like Hagar:

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” ¹⁴ That is why the well was called Beer Lahai Roi; it is still there, between Kadesh and Bered. ~Genesis 16:13-14 (NIV)

Leaving a trail of beauty~

Pam

Beautiful Bringer of Peace

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLIVIA!

You are silly!

You are stunning!

You are fun!Where'd you get that big drink?

You are fun and add so much joy to every day!

You look lovely here. Thanks for letting me "mama" you so closely for 19 years. 

 Olivia, 

Finding it very difficult to articulate anything coherent today in the way of offering you wisdom or advice on your upcoming 19th year on this earth. My thoughts are muddling in my silly old bear's head stuffed with fluff and mingling with all the flashing images of you that rarely leave me where you are concerned. So, let's quickly play a round of "I Remember":

• I remember when they first handed you to me at Baylor Medical Center. I looked down into your deep blue eyes and tried to figure out who this little person would be as I knew nothing of you yet.
• I remember the first time I did something to make you cry, and I thought I would never live it down. It truly did hurt me too.
• I remember the first time I saw my mom hold you. She instantly transformed into looking like a grandma, which was somehow just as amazing as you transforming a couple years later into a big sister after being my baby for almost three years.
• I remember your first day of school and how dwarfed you looked by your backpack but how incredibly excited you were at your new adventure and all the people you were going to get to hug!
• I remember your first dance class, play performance, church singing performance, Vacation Bible School.
• I remember your first band aid, first cold, first hospital stay.
• I remember your first sleepover, first trip away from me, first time to leave the country without me.
• I remember it all, because I have been here for it all. I am thrilled to have been present for your life thus far and can't wait to see what the next step of your journey brings. Happy Birthday, my Darling Olivia!

I found this in the Facebook status of an acquaintance. I found it fitting for you today, precious daughter of mine:

Daughter, He delights and sings over YOU; He takes pleasure in you. He smiles over who you are, over who He made you to be. The longings He gave you are to bring His Kingdom to bear on this earth, to bring beauty to the spaces you inhabit, and to reflect His creativity. You are not one-dimensional. You are made in His image, the image of the creative, glorious, artistic, fun, smiling, holy God. What wells up in you brings Him delight, because He put it there for His pleasure. Accept His gifts to you. It is not because of your merit, but because He is pleased to give it to you. So smile dear one, He loves and delights in you, His daughter. (from Sarah Mae)

"The LORD your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy." Zephaniah 3:17

Happy Birthday, dearest Olivia! I know feelings don't always accompany the reality, but the truth is -- you were chosen for this day by the Lord. He brought you to us, and I am forever grateful. Your name means it, and you have been from the very first day a "bringer of peace" . . . just like the meaning of your name.

On His Adventure~

Love Mama

Humble Beauty

I am such a sucker for flowers. I am that mom. You know the one. I would go to great lengths to pull over the car when my kids were small so we could pick wildflower bouquets. I used my best MIKASA crystal vase to ensconce dandelions or other assorted items others would probably dub weeds. But what are weeds anyway? 

Ralph Waldo Emerson describes them this way:

"What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered." 

I do try to appreciate beauty in what others may overlook. 

Now, don't get me wrong, I do love a bunch of matching flowers in a special vase (sounds like paws) as much as the next gal, but something in this little heart of mine goes pitter patter when a messy handful of wild blooms gets thrust my way. Fewer of these make it into my house now that my kids are all teenagers, but my response is still the same for the spontaneous gesture of flowers. I love them! Not once does it cross my mind that the value of these wildflowers is any less than those of the store bought sort. 

God created each of us with different talents, different gifting, and obviously with very different exteriors. I don't want to get caught in the trap of what people look like or putting value on the book's cover alone.

I spent many years worrying about what people thought of me and focusing on my exterior alone as the measuring stick for my significance and worth. God has had a huge project in me.  Yet He chose to transform me. He was ruthless in some ways and gentle in others. This has been far from a pain free process, I can assure you. 

However, the One Who knows me best and loves me most has not taken one break since I chose to follow His plan for my life back in 1980. Now that doesn't mean I haven't tried to climb off the potter's wheel when He sculpts, shapes and molds me to look more like what He created me for all those years ago. 

I still have days ( as recently as today) when I just want the refining process to be easier. I want the struggle to be simpler. I want to feel beautiful in spite of the chipping away that sometimes leaves me with visible scars and an altered image that can appear somewhat shocking to those who have gotten used to it. 

At any rate, I think I have an affinity for those "weeds" because I so identify with their dubious worth to the untrained eye. I am so grateful I am instead seen by the Creator whose eye continuously zeros in on my value, my worth, and my potential because He sees and knows the purpose for which He made me. 

I think I will go take one more whiff of that lovely red flower floating in a bowl on my counter before I head off to bed. My 14-year-old son still sees how happy those humble gifts make this mama. I hope he never forgets. (Makes me melt). Head on over here for more great writing.

On His Adventure~

Pam 

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Beauty Through Tears

I can distinctly remember the first words I said to my firstborn child. I have watched them a number of times on a less than stellar home video now almost 19 years old. I didn't greet her by name. I didn't say some welcome message I'd practiced beforehand. I didn't sing a song.

I looked down into that face I didn't recognize but knew would forever change my life and said, "It's ok. You can cry. Go ahead and cry. It's ok, darlin'."

Now before I wax eloquent on any inner meanings of these words, I think I was just telling Olivia I wanted her to be sure to cry loud and proud for the sheer health of it in being a newborn and exercising her lungs and all. I did read lots of books while awaiting her arrival after all! Didn't want that mountain of information to go to waste.

Yet what I can't help but see in those first words to my oldest was an assurance her tears were ok. Crying was not something to be held back -- though the idea of a newborn holding back tears is essentially preposterous.

Unlike the classic newborn, I have spent many years holding back tears. I have found the idea of having a good cry to be a great one in theory. Unfortunately the practice of unleashing tears is far less simple.

Seems to me that tears are often treated as more of a joke than a cleansing emotion. We often tease about the "ugly cry"and faux mock those who have one in order to maintain our own sense of "holding it together" or "saving face" to some extent.

I'm definitely in that camp more often than not. Frequently, I have shrugged off the need for a cry by flippantly declaring "If I start crying, I don't know how I would ever stop." Some days I do wonder what I would do if I completely let go and cried over all I have experienced in my journey.

I guess that's why the verse above reached out and grabbed me today when I was contemplating an aspect of beauty I wanted to overlook. I didn't want to talk about my tears. I didn't want to think about how my ability to leave a trail of beauty isn't marred but rather shaped and texturized by the tears I have shed.

Tears hold no shame. Crying offers release and relief. Most importantly, from my tiny little view of the world, God is alert to my tears and each of the reasons for them. He doesn't miss a one of them and collects them in a "bottle". My tears have meaning and purpose. God finds me beautiful in the midst of them and tenderly cares for me while I cry. My God cares so much for me that His word can completely diffuse those thoughts I shared about never being able to stop crying once I start:

"For his anger lasts only a moment,
    but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may stay for the night,
    but rejoicing comes in the morning." 

Psalm 30:5 (NIV)

If that one doesn't make a difference or ease my anxiety, certainly this one packs a punch of its own:
 

"God will take away all their tears. There will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All the old things have passed away.” 

Revelation 21:4

The tears will stop. He promises it. I can cry knowing it will not last forever.

So when I came here today, I didn't necessarily intend share about what I consider a vulnerable place full of tears, but instead God confirmed that beauty can indeed be found there. Not only can beauty be found, He meets me there. He meets you in your place of tears too. Find fantastic writing here.

On His Adventure~

Pam

Get to the Meat of It Already

Unless I am mistaken and the visits recorded on my tracker for my little blog are completely inaccurate, I am thankfully not the only one reading here -- which would make it one very lonely and even crazier place than inside my head where all these widely random thoughts are conceived.

So, if you are reading, and I am convinced you are. I wonder if this question ever crosses your mind? "When is the drivel going to stop so we can get to some real substantive writing here?" You may not word it quite like that in your head. You may never use "drivel" in your every day thoughts. But since I have brought it up, let's give it a quick definition. Here is what I found at dictionary.com:

Drivel: noun

1.

saliva flowing from the mouth, or mucus from the nose; slaver.

2.

childish, silly, or meaningless talk or thinking; nonsense; twaddle.



Obviously I am not referring to definition one in this instance, though I could totally see why someone might want that to stop if it was going on here at my blog. 

Maybe I am being a bit harsh in my self-assessment when defining my writing as "childish" or "twaddle", for goodness' sakes. Maybe just fluffy would suffice, but now I do know what I can label "drivel" when I see it. 

Anyway, I have been thinking a great deal since I re-launched an active blog here a few weeks back. What makes me stand out? What do I have to offer of value? What am I passionate about? 

More than anything else, I know I am meant to weave words together. It comes effortlessly. It is a passion, and yet it is more a lifeline than anything else. It frees me and unclutters my mind when I let the words spill out on the page. I have ideas to share that are uniquely my own, as well as those that have been shaped and influenced by my background, my relationship with The Lord, my reading of His Word, or by the people who have crossed my path over the past almost five decades I have spent on this earth. 

Beauty is the thread that connects it all. I am unable to walk through one single day I have been given without seeing the inherent beauty in it, simply by the very nature of my Heavenly Father designing it and allowing it and its events to occur for my consumption. 

He did not make the sun rise and set only for my benefit. I am not that self-centered most days. And yet He is pleased when I take time to notice the rhythm of these and how they influence my perspective on my existence here on this planet. 

The coming days will see me pondering more of how beauty is found in the mundane, how I can leave a trail of beauty apart from fleeting feelings, physical limitations, financial constraints and creative blocks. Beauty will always rise to the top, as it is the foundation upon which I have chosen to build this bloggy home of mine. 

I hope I haven't scared you off in my feeble attempt to write with a bit more substance than cotton candy and leave a bit of that fluff behind momentarily. Fluff will definitely make recurring appearances here, as it certainly has a place amongst the meatier topics. I just know from experience a steady diet of fluff can leave one lacking and longing for something more. 

Heading off to do more research on what makes each day a beauty on its own. Check over here for more great writing as well.

On His Adventure~

Pam