Snow and Contentment

I seriously, really truly, super duper, deeply love snow. For the first 20 years of my life I was pretty sure everyone hates it. Then I started preaching love and all the beauty and goodness of the white flakes. Now, I feel like it's not so hated, except when it is being shoveled and sliding cars off the road or into other cars...like in my case this morning when I slid straight towards another car, stopping just short of the driver's side door. People are starting to see the beauty, but, it's slick out there. Snow is not made for driving in. It's made for the slow days; made to enjoy. To play in, roll in, or throw around, or to watch while sitting inside by a fireplace, curled up in a big fuzzy blanket with a steaming mug of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. I have yet to do that, though every time It snows that item on my bucket list moves one number closer to being on top. It's going to happen. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? I just need to find a fireplace.

Right now, I am halfway to that cozy dream. I'm sitting in the bookstore, wintry music playing softly, a mini Christmas tree on the table in front of me with mini white bulb ornaments. And the white, wintry, blustery mix outside makes me glad that I am not sitting in the woods hunting, currently.

Winter relaxes me. I don't know if it is just me, but aside from the tense moments driving 40 miles an hour and worrying about sliding off the road at any second, I am so much more content and relaxed in winter. The snow and crisp cold, knowing I have a heated house and warm blankets...I feel so blessed. I could be stuck out there under a bridge with a thin plastic tarp covering me. 

I shiver at that thought. I am blessed, yet other's are not. Am I a terrible person for not lending them my bed? For not inviting them into my house? I don't often see homeless souls. I guess they are all at the Salvation Army, right?

Still, the thought hurts me. 

Christmas is coming. One month from today is Christmas eve. Thousands of selfish American's will be receiving gifts, and thousands of normal American's will be giving those gifts, and a handful of selfless souls will be giving everything they have to help those who can neither give nor receive.

I feel stagnant. Lately, as though I really can not make a difference. Just like everyone who chooses not to do anything, I want to, but don't know where to start.

I wish I was creative and could come up with a billion dollar idea to change the world. They say God does that through people, but I am still waiting. All of the good intentions in the world still won't change it. Actions change things. But in order to have action, you must have ideas. 

Love > Intentions > Ideas > Action > Change.

I have the first two down. And now I'm stuck. I don't think action or change would be a problem for me if I had any kind of ideas how to do something.

Maybe I am thinking too big. Maybe change starts little. Maybe intentions and love is enough. Love manifested looks like...what exactly? Giving? Sharing? Caring?

We know that words are not enough. Actions are the only thing that mean anything. Actions speak louder than words, and words become nothing if your actions are silent. Or if your actions say something different. I say I love, I say I care, I say I want to change the world, yet I spend my money on selfish gain and spend my time on personal pleasures.

I wish that selfish was a feasible way to live. I so wish that I could spend money and time on myself and change the world. Maybe that is where it starts, though? But not with earthly things though...with love. You must be full to pour out.

Okay, I am randomly ranting and saying nothing, but putting my thoughts into words helps some deep part of my soul to be a little more content. One ranting blog post a week that no one will ever read, and I shall be golden.

Snow, snow, snow. Snow provokes so many random thoughts in my mind.

In summer, I am too busy being busy to think. 

Contentment is never truly complete, is it?

Is contentment in a choice here and now, no matter what -

1 Timothy 6:6-8 ESV
Now there is great gain in godliness with contentment, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content.


Philippians 4:11-13 ESV 

Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.


 Or is that simply for earthly THINGS, and we can not be content if we are not where God wants? Or not doing what God wants? If we are not giving everything of ourselves that God wants us to give? How do we know? God, I hate life

I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought was, "life is impossible. It is impossible for us to exist, yet we do."

Snow is impossible. Feeling is impossible. Everything is impossible, yet we are. 

Life is not our choice, either. We are victims of circumstance. We believe, more or less, what we have been taught. We obey something, someone; and we rebel against something and someone. We all live for something or someone, and are all willing to die for one reason or another, but for everyone, the something and someone is different.

Does that make us wrong or right? We believe truth, or do we believe lies?

Either way, I trust, because God is sovereign and God is faithful. But I am never fully happy for more than a week or two. Yes, snow makes me happy. The woods make me happy. Beautiful people and children and hot chocolate makes me happy. But the happiness fades and I am discontent and restless and angry and frustrated. 

They tell me to let go and enjoy the times. Enjoy the snow, enjoy the beauty. I try, but my soul longs for more, and I am trying to quiet it. Because I just want to be normal. I want to be normal. I want to be normal. I don't want to be radical. I don't want this desire. I don't want to believe what I believe so strongly. I want to let it go...but it's not my choice, is it? 

But is there a different between "normal" and "content"? Can I be radical, be different, live the life my soul desires, and still be content where I am? Can I live my un-normal life anywhere, at any time, in any situation?
If Paul was radical and content in prison...I should be able to handle my blessed life, yes?

I have  preached my whole entire life how much I hate tattoos. How I will never ever get a tattoo. How I think there is nothing wrong with them and if you want them that is awesome for you, but that I think that they are ugly and if someone has them they are 90% less attractive right away. True story.

So you understand my confusion at myself, when I found this:

And somehow that overly complicated mind of mine decided that Jesus the Savior in Greek is the most beautiful written thing I have ever seen in my life and pretty quickly decided that I want it on my skin. I actually have been entertaining the thought of getting Jesus the Savior inked onto my foot. 

I am going insane.

But really, look at that. It's beautiful, isn't it? And what better words to have on my skin than Jesus the Savior? Is there any better way to start conversations?

I'm giving it three months. If I still want it when I return from Colombia, I will consider it. Maybe. I feel crazy. Really. But I like to tell people that nothing surprises me anymore. Not even myself?

An Interview With Myself...About Snow.

What makes you happy?

Snow. Snow makes me happy.

Why does snow make you happy?

Because it's pure. It's pure and silent and beautiful. And it's soft. It's gentle. It doesn't give up, and it's fun loving...And, it doesn't care if everyone hates it, it still does what it was created to do.

What was it created to do?

Be beautiful. To teach us to slow down, to appreciate good, and even to help us let loose and have a little fun. And, to teach us patience when it covers our cars.

And how is this good?

Can you imagine what would happen if people were like snow?

What would happen?

Well, first of all, everyone would be different. People wouldn't try to be like everyone else. They would realize that they are created pure, different, and unique, and beautiful. Yet, they would stick together with everyone. They would help each other build a fortress. No favorites, no judging, they would just go where the maker blew them, not a care in the world, but simply trust. And when they were pushed around, trampled, peed on, and hated by everyone' words, they wouldn't give up. They would keep doing what they were made to do. There is a problem, though, too.

What is that?

Once they are dirty, snow on the ground stays dirty. But, it doesn't have to stay dirty forever, you know.

What do you mean?

Snow becomes beautiful again, and like snow, people can be made beautiful again, too. But they don't realize it, and they have to let go first. See, people are trampled. People are abused, hated, pushed around, stepped down, and people talk bad about other people. People get dirty. They get broken. Just like snow...but so many people get pushed down, and they never get back up, because of fear. But, like snow, people can be cleansed and be made pure and white and beautiful again.

Explain?

Pretend I am a snowflake. I am created in the clouds and start to float down to this earth, enjoying the view of all the lights and cars from above. I slowly, gently, fall down, down. For a moment, I decide that I want to go to Hawaii, but, my maker advises against it and recommends I go to Wisconsin. Even though I don't understand why I can't go to Hawaii, I trust His wisdom, and I obey. I let myself be blown by the wind across the states down to Wisconsin. As I reach my destination, I hear voices, and feel fear. I realize that people hate me. I want to go back, to simply be rain and fall over Hawaii, or even to wait for a better time to go to Wisconsin, but I have a purpose. My maker whispers that everything will be okay, to just trust him, and so I continue to fall. I land in a yard, and almost immediately, A child comes running through the snow and steps on me. But, he is happy. The child is happy. Does he realize how much it hurts to be stepped on? 

...Probably not. Continue?

The next moment, the child scoops up his footprint and packs me together with a billion other snowflakes and throws me. I hit a window. I am bruised, but I fall back to the ground to rest for a short time. But the pain isn't over...

Uh oh...

A dog pees on me. A stupid, ugly, little fuzzy dog wearing a jacket. My maker reminds me that he created dogs, too, but I can't help but resent the fact that I am now yellow.

....I am choking back laughter.

Glad I am making my point! 

So how do you become beautiful again? You are now stepped on, thrown around, talked bad about, and yellow...

...He calls me back. My maker calls me back, and even though the journey is long, and slow, and hard; I have to stay dirty for a time, to fight to keep trusting, it is slowly getting warm around me. I try to fight, because even being yellow is better than not existing. But he calls me and I run to him. It is painful, melting, and becoming nothing to fly back to the clouds. But it is there that I am cleaned, and even though it is not time to be rain; not yet time to be loved and wanted for to make crops grow, I become a snowflake again. I will be hated and become dirty again, but for a time, as I float from the clouds to my destination, I am beautiful, I am whole. I am pure.

That is beautiful, and I haven't really ever thought of it like that before. But, how are people anything like snow?

People are created unique, like a snowflake. They are born, they are loved, and they are called to a purpose. So many people fight it - they go to Hawaii when they're called to Wisconsin, and they think they live the good life, but, they don't realize that they are slowly dying. Some people, like snowflakes, go where they are called. They decide to follow the master, but they are hated. People talk bad about them, they try to make them stop and go away. They don't want people to realize their worth, because they feel guilty. I bet those Hawaiian snowflakes-turned-raindrops wish they could be beautiful -- but really, they don't. Because they don't know any different. But anyway...These snowflakes who go where they're called, they're made fun of. They're pushed around, they're stepped on. But they don't give up. They are beaten and bruised, and sometimes, they make a bad choice and get hit by a car, (which could be any bad choice that results in pain)...and in the end, people are broken, and dirty. The master calls them back....but they are afraid. They don't want to go through pain, they don't want to melt, so they choose to stay yellow, and stay frozen. They don't realize that it is only with full surrender and obedience that their dirty, brokenness can become beautiful again.

 

Coffee Sojourn

Write what you feel. Write what is going on in your life. Let the words flow through your fingers like water through a garden hose on a hot summer day. Let the floodgates burst forth like the blizzard. It starts with one single snowflake; this heart flow will start with one single word.

Coffee. Coffee is the base for every good writing session. For every time when words flow freely; it begins with coffee. The best way to provoke imagination and creativity, and to let the emotions come forth without stopping. Coffee.

So many good memories associated with coffee, and I wish that I could go back and relive any of them. Any one memory that involves coffee, because they are all good. Coffee with friends, coffee while relaxing, coffee while blogging in a foreign country. 

Nothing negative. And everything feels negative right now. I am broken, and becoming complacent. Not necessarily satisfied with the current situation, but not caring enough to change it. I am on the verge of being numb. Watching cars go by, yet not noticing any one of them. Aware o people around me talking and sipping their coffee and messing with their phones, yet I still stare blankly out the window. 

What is life but a place made of nothing that can't really exist? And yet it does, and we do. It is a beautiful, beautiful place. Badly broken, yet thoroughly beautiful. Thoroughly: an adjective. Meaning exhaustively complete, painstakingly accurate or careful, absolute, utter. Life is thoroughly beautiful, isn't it? Created ever so carefully by a single word from the creator. 

And yet, so badly broken. So painful, so numb we become in this beautiful place. But why? Why do we become numb and complacent and oblivious to the pain around us and in us, when there are snowflakes and butterflies, caribou and tall sticks sticking out of the ground? The sticks are alive, you know. They grow and change and give us fruit to enjoy. And yet, we take it for granted, focusing only on the pain in our soul, almost relishing it, ignoring any possibility for change simply because we do not see an easy route for which change could come. So we do nothing. We notice nothing. We become nothing. We are nothing.

It is a sad concept, really, yet so prevalent. You can not argue it, can you? You are included in this generalization, as am I. What is different today than it was yesterday? What is different today than was last week, last month, or last year?  What has changed? What have you changed? My guess is that you have done nothing. Nothing to make the world a better place. Nothing to even make your world a better place, simply because you don't know what to do. So you do nothing.

Coward.

We are broken, of which I'm the worst. Yet I realize it, and you are convinced you are whole.

You are broken. You are broken, and you are a coward.

I am complete, I have direction, I have a dream, I have hope. This hope could be yours, but you are stagnant and have no desire to change.

I love people, I do. But I am not like them. Why am I so different, that I seek change? I seek to be better, do better, make the world better. They put me down; I start to become like them. But I refuse. I refuse to give in to the temptation to do nothing because I can not do everything. I will do something. And I will start with changing who I am. I will make the world beautiful by being in it, because I will be beautiful. I can not restore your faith in humanity, but I can be someone's faith in humanity. I can be one person that proves that everyone is not the same.

You could too, but you have lost hope in humanity, and you insist on being part of humanity. You and every other soul in the world. We are so few. Why, oh why. What has become of us that we all insist on being the same? We all insist on being nothing.

Life is so beautiful. Look at that artwork. Someone created that. Some beautiful, broken soul that needed a way to express the hurt in their soul. Look at the architecture. Someone built that. Someone saw that something needed to be done; that there was a need, and so they built a house. They used their imagination while doing it, too. And see those cars? Those stop lights? The roads and businesses? Those were all someone's idea. They saw something that needed to be changed and they did it. They knew that we needed transportation. They saw the roadways needed rules. They saw that people needed work and things needed to be made. And they worked hard, and they made this world what it is. Are you making the world what it is, or is it, with or without you? What is the point of living in this world, if we are just living our lives doing nothing, living day to day as if nothing matters, as if nothing is beautiful, as if no one exists but us and our world?

Why? Why can't we be more?

Look outside. Do you see that? Do you see the beauty? Could you do that? Could you make those trees? Could you make the sky, the clouds, those little birds with thousands of webbed feathers? Could you make the song that they sing? If you can, teach me your ways. Because I am nothing, and more likely than not, you are nothing. We are one of seven billion people on the planet, and we think we have a right to anything.

God made us for something. We have purpose. We can do something. And yet we choose to do nothing.

This world is sick.  

God I love coffee.

This world is so beautiful. This song is beautiful. Brokenness Aside. Life is beautiful. Jesus is beautiful. Rambling thoughts are beautiful. So are snowflakes, and crisp cold, and crinkly, smiley eyes, grey haired couples that have stood the test of time and loved unconditionally. People who give, people who love without return, people who choose to see beyond their own self and their own little world. Broken people are beautiful, because they are the ones who become beautiful. When they let God heal them, the broken people become the most beautiful. 

Everyone is broken, everyone is beautiful. But who will choose to be more than the average nobody? I will. I choose to live. Because I don't just want to be alive, I want to live. 

Every car I see outside is being driven by someone. Each someone has a story. Each someone is broken, and each someone is beautiful. Each someone needs someone to restore their faith in humanity, yet each someone could choose to be someone else's restored faith in humanity. 

Do you realize the power you have? Do you realize that you can change the world, starting with you? Stop doubting. Why do you doubt you have power? Why do you doubt that the one who is in you is larger than the nothing of the world?

God, people are stupid. 

Coffee is good. Ciao.