So it's been really cold lately.  Like freeze your skin, run all the way to your car and then scream once you get in there, wearing multiple socks cold.

I try to minimize the time I have to spend outdoors.  But I still have to go out here and there.  I had to run to the store on what the weather man said was the coldest night of the year so far.  I needed some highly promised candy for my class in the morning and I knew that a bunch of elementary kids weren't going to take "it was too cold out" for an excuse.

As I was leaving the store, and I'm pretty sure it became about 20 degrees colder while I was in the store somehow than when I went in,  I looked to my left and saw an employee standing next to the side entrance smoking a cigarette.  No coat, no hat, no gloves, just a bright red polo t-shirt with a slightly popped collar, which I'm pretty sure was for warmth, not looks.

She was braving the icy cold for that cigarette.  She so badly craved that cigarette that the weather warnings of not being outside for longer than a couple of minutes or else you would get frost bite did not seem to affect her.  The fact that she was not in a condition to be the cold, with her lack of winter gear, didn't seem to matter. She wanted that cigarette.

This got me thinking, do I crave Jesus as much as that women craved that cigarette.

Do I crave him so much that I would brave the elements just for a sweet, short time with him?  Do I put myself out of comfort for just a little taste of him?  Would I risk my life, or in this case skin, for Jesus?

This women probably goes outside to have a cigarette every break she has.   It doesn't matter what condition she is in or what is going on around her, she just wants a that cigarette.

Lord I pray that I crave you in that same way.

Why I'm not artsy.

I see things really beautiful and intricate in my head but getting them onto paper can be a challenge.  Explaining to people what I see and how I view things is difficult at times.  Sometimes I feel like a creative person trapped in a realist's body.  Most of the time what comes out is black and white, straight lines, and boring.

I guess I'm not artsy because it might just be a picture for me to see.

Since I've moved to the city I've made a new best friend.

We do a lot of awesome stuff together:
play basketball on the mini hoop
eat fruit snacks
do puzzles
build intense lego towers
watch windmill videos on youtube
read Dr. Seuss
eat lollipopsicles (a combination of lollipops and popsicles)

My best friend is two years old.

I love him so much.  The other day while we were eating breakfast and having a great conversation about firefighters and the noise that firetrucks make, I was just hit with how much I love him.  I love him so much it physically hurt.  It's almost impossible to describe.  Not the kind of hurt that causes you pain, but the kind that causes you to want the best for someone else, doesn't want the other person to ever be upset, and the mere thought of that person being hurt causes you hurt.

If I have this much love for him, I can't imagine what it would like to be his mother or father.  The love, the hurt must be so much it is unbearable and sweet, sweet joy all at the same time.

Such a love can come from people.  And people are sinful.

If it is possible for that love to come from people, I can't even imagine how much more a God, who is without sin, who is perfect in every way, who is eternally pure loves his children.

How can He bear it?
How much hurt does it cause Him?
How much does He want nothing but the best for us?

I can't even fathom His love. Love that He has. Love that He gives. Love that He is.

Amazing.

I really like to eat ice cream straight out of the carton.  Maybe it is my impatience, maybe it is my lack of desire to do the dishes or maybe my irrational belief that ice cream tastes better that way (which it does).  I love being able to dig right in with a large spoon and continuing to my heart's (or stomach's) content.  I realize that sometimes this leads me to eat more and that the next person to eat out of the carton is going to eat ice cream my spoon has touched and contaminated.  But ice cream eaten out of the carton is just better.

I think I need to eat more ice cream out of the carton in my life.

Sometimes I take more time then I need to before getting involved.  I take out the carton, get a bowl, get a large spoon to scoop, get a smaller spoon to eat, scoop the ice cream, put the carton away, find a spot at the table and then finally sit down to eat.  When I could have been eating the ice cream all along.

There are things that I know the Lord wants me to step into, but my sinful self resists.  I tell myself "I need more time"or "I'm not ready", when the those are lies I am telling myself. If the Lord wants me to do something all I need to say is "yes" and enter into it depending on His will and on Him for strength alone.

I can waste so much time getting prepared, analyzing the situation and coming up with other things to do.

You do need to rest in the Lord and seek His will.  And  there are times when I need to get out the large spoon, the bowl, the small spoon, find a good spot and sit down and eat.  I need to take that extra time.

However, sometimes all I need to know is that I'm supposed to eat ice cream, grab a spoon and dig in, And the Lord will guide me, strengthen me, support me the rest of the way, getting to eat more than I'm supposed to, getting out of doing dishes and eating a better tasting ice cream than if I'd waited.

I love words.

Whether it is the elegant way they are put together or the way they are stumbled through, I truly think they are beautiful.

I love how words sound when you say them.  How "gentle" sounds gentle and "harsh" sounds harsh.  Sometimes talk sounds like a cadence, the way the words accent on different syllables, the order in which they are spoken, the emotions they express.

I love how words are mixed in different ways to mean different things.  What is said first and what is said second determines so much.  How they are orchestrated gives a dimension to what you are saying.  Layers and depth to creating a statement a message in different ways.

I love how words are more powerful when there are fewer of them.  Simple phrases, like "I love you" and "I miss you", say so much in a short amount of time and can mean so much more.

I love how words in different languages still apply to the rules.  Have you ever listened to another language you don't know? I don't know any other languages well, but listening to them I can tell what kind of conversation they are having.  Whether they are explaining something, professing secrets, or just sharing the day, the cadence of the language tells you the story.

I love how words create a relationship.  Whether it be inner-city kids who live down the street or Mandarin Chinese across the world, once you have the language your relationship builds, misunderstandings are broken and words, secret words, shared words are used to share secrets, to share stories, to share life.

I love how words share. Timely but timeless.  Words can tell you so much about the time, the place the person.

I love how words are simple. And God chooses simple words for us to share. Words share Jesus.

Simple. Simply beautiful.

I am still at the children's table.

In my family as you get older you get to sit at the adult table, leaving the children's table behind.
I can't say exactly what makes you an adult, it might be getting a full time job, getting married, or even graduating from college.  Whatever it is, I watched as my cousins slowly disappeared into the next room.  The room with fancy silverware, the room with mature conversions, the room with carpeted floors.

A couple of years ago the adult table maxed out, meaning I would be perpetuity at the children's table.  Stuck forever in the room with milk, not coffee, linoleum floors for easy slip clean-up, and plastic cups.

I was pretty upset at first.  Moving up to the adult table was something I always looked forward to.  The adult table had a sense of prestige about it, a sort of mystery, and seemed to demand a respect from the younger, less mature cousins that hadn't made it to the adult table.

A lot of my friends have been leaving the children's table lately.  (Some are even having babies to fill their own children's table.)  They are stepping into these new, exciting, different stages of life where their responsibilities are more than just themselves.  While I remain at the children's table.

As I sit at the continually shrinking child table, watching people move up to the adult table, I thought about why I'm still at this table.  There is so much the Lord has been teaching me and showing lately, while I'm sit here.  I think that the Lord is refining me at this table, preparing me, making me ready and when I finally do get moved up to the adult table, I'll be ready or closer to ready than I am now.

So unlike my family functions, I will not be perpetuity at the children's table in life.  But I'm here now and for a reason.  I am realizing, learning and enjoying it while I'm here because someday I won't be at the children's table anymore, things will change, life will change, but that day is not today.  So, thanks for the extra time at the children's table, I know it will be well worth it.

I have two chores at my house.
The first is recycling.  I was told it was my job because I'm "earthy" and I am good at organizing.
Truth be told, I do enjoy recycling, I feel like I'm doing my part and have even created a system for organizing paper, plastic, glass and aluminum.

The second is vacuuming.  I'm pretty sure I was just given this job because no one else wanted to do it.  Unlike recycling, which happens every week, I often wait large amount of time in-between each time I vacuum.  I just don't think the carpet looks dirty, so I don't do it.

When I do vacuum, I enjoy it when I get to vacuum up an actual mess.  A spill on the rug.  Beneath the couch that hasn't been moved for months.  Recently, around a real Christmas tree.
It makes me feel like I've accomplished something.  I can see the mess disappearing.  I can see the result.

Sure I know that when I'm vacuuming up the less messy spots I'm still cleaning little microscopic dirt, hair, and other gross stuff that needs to be cleaned.  But it's not as fun.  It's not as enjoyable.  It's just not the same.

A lot of the times we don't see the result and it is not the same as seeing the result.  We can easily become unmotivated and lazy by the lack of result.  Of course when we see results we want to keep going, keep looking for more mess, keep cleaning.  We are motivated by what we see.
But we don't always see the results.  And I don't think we are meant to.

If we were able to see the result, the why, the reason we do it changes pretty quietly.  It's not about what is behind the action so much, as what you can get from the action.  
It's not meant to be about he result but about the heart behind it.  It's meant to be about the why, not the action itself. 

If we always saw results of every good work we did, it would too quickly increases our motivation from glorifying God to glorifying ourselves.  I think God keeps us from seeing the result to help us, to bring us closer, to help keep our hearts a glorifying position.

If I only vacuumed the big messes, the one I could see with my eyes, I would miss a lot of dirt that I can't see.  I would miss out on a lot and it would be just because I couldn't see the result.