revelation

We make ourselves a place apart
behind light words that tease and flout,
but oh, the agitated heart
till someone really find us out.

'Tis pity if the case require
(or so we say) that in the end
we speak the literal to inspire
the understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
at hide-and-seek to God afar,
so all who hide too well away
must speak and tell us where they are.

--Robert Frost

bye bye subie :-(

Blogger would not let me post a pic in "It hit me: Part 2 (literally)" below, but here's a glimpse of my car after the accident. Ten days later, I still miss her, but am starting to move on.
Any suggestions on a replacement vehicle?

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party

Thanks to The Palace girls who hosted a great party Saturday.
There were some awfully ugly sweaters, and vests, and pantsuits. And yes, folks, I am wearing a real-live tree skirt! ( Curvy photo credits go to Abbs).

It hit me: Part 2 (literally)

I realize now more than ever how life can change in a single minute.
My wakeup call came on an ordinary Tuesday evening on my way to meet two friends at a coffee shop downtown.

I rush out the door, only to realize I’ve forgotten my cell phone. I’m going to be late, so I decide not to go back for it.
I’m downtown, not very familiar with the area.
I’m getting into the left turn lane. The light is green. I’m looking at the street sign and the oncoming traffic and decide to go. I see they’re coming quickly.

I hear a horn blast and feel the impact.
I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve never been in a real accident. A fender bender, sure—but this is bad. This is not going to be good.
I’m in slow motion, spinning around fast.
Powerless, I’m inside my car, but feel outside of it all as it collides with another and cartwheels on its side. I brace for a roll, but slide to a glass-cracking stop.

The questions begin inside my head. What just happened? Am I alive? What’s going to happen?
Quickly I see people peering through my windshield. Only a driver’s-side door separates me and the ground. I’m laying there, parallel to the earth, feeling paralyzed until the questions come from behind. Are you conscious? Are you in pain?
Then the firemen. Can you move your fingers and toes? Where are we? How old are you? What’s your name?

I realize I don’t feel any out-of-the-ordinary pain. I know I hit my head and my neck twisted in an unnatural fashion. Why am I OK? I begin to wimper then cry. They tell me to stay put while they see if they can roll my car back to an upright position. Do you think you can crawl out of here, or do you want us to cut you out? I can do it.

I don’t feel any pain. I can move, though am not sure I want to.
The fireman directs me as I crawl over my seat and out the broken back window. They lead me to an ambulance. I’m walking and shaking and answering questions and they’re making me decide if I want to go to the hospital. I don’t know how long that will take and how much it will cost and what they will do to me. No I feel fine.

I need to tell my friends what happened. My cell phone is at home. I just want to go home.
No, I don’t know their numbers. Yes, I will take a cab voucher.
The ambulance leaves, I sit in the cop car. They’re directing traffic. There’s a fire truck and about three police cars.

People driving by look shocked, like I was when I’ve seen accidents before. “I’m so glad that wasn’t me,” I thought.
Now it’s me. I thought I was a good driver. Aggressive, yes, but not reckless. I wish I could take back that split-second decision.

I get issued a $90, 3-point ticket for an improper turn, failing to yield. I’m still shaking, haven’t stopped. I can’t believe I did this. What about the other people? I go to gather my things out of my car. One cop finds my keys for me, says I need them to get in my house. It actually didn’t even occur to me to grab those. “Accidents happen,” he says. “At least no one was hurt and cars can be replaced. That’s what insurance is for.” Thank you.

The cab driver plays Enya for me as I sniffle in back seat. “Have a good night. I mean, hope your night goes better.”
First thing after telling my roommate what happened, I call the friends who’ve been worried sick and tell them I’m alive, but not well—but could be much worse.

Now what? I’m thankful to be alive. Thankful to be able to move. Thankful that soreness is my worst complaint. Yet, sad this had to happen. Sobered to realize I was powerless to stop the force of thousands of pounds of metal crashing, spinning sideways, and plummeting to their demise and my chagrin.
Humbled to accept God’s grace and dependent on help from others.
Confused about what all this means and what will happen.
Anxious to know what I’m supposed to learn from this, and for these lessons I’m strangely thankful.
I’m thankful to know what it is to have potentially lost my life. I’m thankful for the people who love me and for the chance to love others and to live more ordinary Tuesdays.
What an extraordinary gift is love and life.

It hit me

“Lord, forgive me,” I repeated—cringing, wincing, expecting, even wanting a whooping.
And then it hit me—not as I was expecting, but ever so gently.
I sensed my Savior saying to me, “Child, I already have.”
My mantra shifted to “Lord, please change me. I need you. Make me more like you.”

Facing your faults is not an easy ordeal, especially the cherished little ones that fester under the surface. You can be completely oblivious to these most of the time, but they affect every move, every judgment, every comment you make.
Then when your inward griping turns outward and you’re suddenly found out, you see your whole series of judgmental thoughts, nasty words, and hidden resentments flash before your eyes.
Your pastor spoke about opening one’s eyes, and you have—though what you see is not pretty. You want to shut your eyes to the ugly side, open them to a more presentable subject, such as someone else’s flaws.
Yes, you easily tell your friends to have more grace for themselves, but you can’t possibly forgive yourself. Or can you?
"God what do you want me to do to make this better?” you ask. He challenges you not about what you should do, but who you should be—His child, accepted, redeemed, forgiven. Someone who wants to change not for self-righteous reasons, but because you've been touched by the most powerful force in the universe.
He is showing you how to embrace His grace, His love, and gently showing you your true nature as a desperate ragamuffin truly in need of Him.

It's starting to look like Christmas

The snow has fallen; Christmas parties, decorating, and shopping have begun.
Our company's holiday gathering was a joyful affair.
My roomie bought a real tree and and we decorated last night. These festivities make me feel happy and bright as I again begin to reflect on the reason for these celebrations.

Please pray for Steve

Saturday Nov. 25, my friend Steve Schmits was hiking with two other guys. Steve took a fall of about 25 ft straight off the edge of a rock outcropping and continued to tumble down over 100 ft to the road below. He suffered a skull fracture and a severely broken wrist.

During this unsure recovery time, please pray for him, his family, and the friends who were with him when it happened.

Steve's sister, Beth, has started a blog to keep everyone updated on his status.