The theory of relativity. It's cheaper than therapy.

Writing is a very cathartic process for me that too often I don't make time for. The effect is the same whether it's authoring a poem, song, novel or even a simple blog post. I have a theory about writing. Well, really about any form of art. While I know that art is completely subjective and my humble opinion may not matter it is this: that the act of creating art is a way of expressing ones soul to oneself, even if one is not so skilled at it. In my mind then, it is the best, most true form of art which makes no sense at all, except to the artist.

In the moment it's not about what others will enjoy or if anyone else will relate. It's about bringing to life, in words or rhythm or visual interest, those thoughts that rummage around in the corners of your mind, sneaking down hallways then knocking down walls and putting up Christmas lights.

In the pursuit of greener places I am realizing that it's all about perspective. That where you are is not as important as what you choose to think about where you are. That letting go of things you cannot control and holding onto the One who controls all things is where it's truly at. With all that going on in my head I felt the need to write some serious nonsense. So here it is.

The synapses crackled and snapped as they sparked. My hand was on the door so I threw it wide open and shivered as a cool breeze slipped my mind. I turned to silence the phone but those words turned my veins to streams of ice. The cells froze in a frenzy and climbed backwards through my bloodstream, overtaking my heart as it crystalized mid-beat. A name that I recognized but a voice that was distorted by a layer of panic. It took too long. My brain could not connect the blinking marquis dots before the words shot from the receiver and blew my mind. I took a breath and padlocked the door I had opened just moments, or maybe it was a lifetime, ago. Back when I was still free, still an innocent and when a young family's mother was still breathing.

Healthy 'Living'

This past weekend was so totally not about my health. I went to the doctor with a sick friend, didn't go running, didn't sleep much and nearly offed myself with cleaning supplies. Accidentally of course.

Let's back up. This fab and flattering (uh, sure) story begins with me jonesing for some Martha. Well the sage advice from her magazine at least. Reading Martha Stewart's ' 'Living' makes me feel like I've spent a few minutes with my sweet Gran and I just love her to pieces. We talk about gardening and God and antiques and life and she's my 'go-to' for help with my black thumb. I was thinking of her this weekend which reminded me to get 'Living'.

We found 'Living' at Publix (C'mon Sweetbay, get with the program) but before I could read it we came home to an awful mess thanks to our impatient dog and I had to bleach all our floors. Yuck. Double yuck.

I normally mop with vinegar and water but I felt the level if nastiness required some harder stuff so I thought for a minute about adding bleach.

Ignorant Person PSA: DO NOT MIX VINEGAR AND BLEACH. YOU WILL BE DEAD.

I should have read Martha's April issue first but thankfully Jesus loves me and He allowed me to only use bleach and water, no vinegar. When I finally got to dive into the magazine later I found this:

Thanks to Martha and praise to Jesus for keeping me alive and not letting me mix those things.

In other, more impressive, news we paid off another credit card this week. Woo hoo! Now if I can just learn to clean responsibly we should be on track.

Oh Glorious Day

Procrastination is one of the things I'm really great at so yes, it's been for-ev-er since I wrote but we're moving past that and onto this story I need to tell you. Listen up because with my blogging track record it may be a few years before you hear from me again. A few Sundays ago, back in February, a sweet friend who does an awe-inspiring job running the children's ministries at our church asked me if I'd teach with her during the month of March. At our church we teach on rotation, a solid month of Sundays twice a year. My part is not so much 'teaching' anything as it is coordinating the class schedule and keeping things moving along smoothly (we hope). Even though the job is super easy and requires basically zero preparation, I had a jolt of resistance run through me at the thought of spending an entire month in children's church. Mainly due to the very sad but very true fact that I am really selfish. I knew there was no good reason for any answer other than yes but I'm sure she saw the flicker of hesitation in my eyes when I said it. "Uh, sure. I should be able to." I feel like such a terrible person sometimes. Later that week I was updating my planner during a lunch break (I'm hopelessly devoted to my planner; we spend most days together) and I noticed two things. One, there are five Sundays in March and two, the last two weeks are Palm and Easter Sunday. I could have cried right there; but I didn't because people at work already think I'm odd and I didn't want to add (more) proof. When I saw that little font printed on the last two Sundays I suddenly wanted to cry out because I am so indescribably unworthy. For some crazy, inexplicable reason my God chose to include me, selfish unworthy me, in His plans for teaching the little hearts of Terrace Palms about the greatest day of all time. When all creation on Earth and in the heavenly realms stood in awe at the greatness and majesty of our Lord Jesus Christ; who showed His power by humbling Himself to become like one of us.To resist temptation and become the only perfect sacrifice that could pay the required price for redemption of our souls. He chose to allow me to be a part of the most important story that will ever be taught to these children and I, I cannot believe I hesitated before saying yes. Sometimes I feel like such a terrible person. Isn't that the whole terrifying, glorious point though?That we are all just a selfish people, sinners, who fall short of the mark in our own individual yet identical ways? Isn't that what makes realizing our unworthiness the most incredible gift? That while we were still sinners, before knowing or even caring about our desperate need for a savior, the Creator of all mankind humbled himself to become like His creation. To be mocked and tortured and unjustly crucified. To prove his unfathomable love for us by being the Savior we so desperately need, the Savior who would be capable of forgetting our selfish acts and would not see us as unworthy when we are paid for by the blood he shed for us. Over the last few weeks since then, I've been looking forward to each Sunday morning that brings us closer to celebrating such a glorious day. Just yesterday my friend called and told me that last week a young man participated in the class and he would be back for Easter. The boy she mentioned does not know Christ and we get to share His true tale of sacrifice, grace and mercy. I have no feelings of resistance left and I cannot help but feel so blessed. Happy glorious day of all days! When Christ arose and ransomed our souls!