Life as a Gift

"That's the real meaning of fear of the Lord in the Bible.
Fear literally means affectionate awe and wonder at greatness and a sense of astonishment.
If I asked 10 people, "Do you trust God?" and they all said yes - but the truth was that nine were lying - do you know how I'd learn the identity of the one who really trusts God?
I'd videotape all 10 of them for a month, and the one who lived with an abiding sense of gratitude would be the one who trusted God.
Gratitude always implies the perception, evaluation, and acceptance of life as a gift."

/ Mark Yaconelli
Youthworker Roundtable Interview

As I passed this man daily on my morning lakefront runs, I wondered why he would stand in the lakefront chill to handout stale bread to these careless birds. Why would he give such attention to creatures that do not give back, wasting time in one solitary place for these meaningless beings?!

And then I realized the delight in his eyes; his nod at the detail in their beaks, the color in their reflection. Perhaps his dreams took flight in their wings and his thoughts took on rhythm in the simplicity of their motion. Stopping, pausing, noticing was enough for him. Is it for me? To take life off autopilot and behold the beauty that stands in front of me is a regular discipline; one that commands my life.

Decisions

It never fails to fascinate me how life is more of a series of Small Decisions, than moments of revelation leading to Big Decisions. In those moments that dance in front of us, masquerading as the Big, it is actually all the Small that have led us to that point. Essentially, the seemingly insignificant day-to-day choices are how we arrive to those moments that cause us to change careers, live overseas, go to graduate school, enter into relationships...

In 2003, my 17 year-old self stood in front of the biggest decision of my life: College. Night after night I counted down anxious hours of lost sleep, paralyzed in fear of making the wrong choice. The trajectory of who I would become spilled over in my mind like a picture book; I watched the friends I would meet, the person I would marry, the job I would have. In those nights when my inner world raged like chaotic drums penetrating a noiseless universe, it seemed that my life's worth hung upon this one decision. What I failed to realize in the lists of pros and cons, checklists of reasons why or why not, and persuasive arguments with my guidance counselor, was that the decision to go to Baylor was already made. It happened when I attended my high school youth group, visited a conference in Waco, and built a friendship with an unlikely friend. These decisions disguised as meaningless - the ones that did not constitute nights of endless nervousness or worry - those were the ones that led me to the Yes to living in the middle of Texas.

Baylor friends who are so dear.
(Even though you wouldn't guess it via Larry...)

The role of our episodic memory - the moments that stay within us long-term - is one of Identity. Our sense of self is created through experience; if our memory dissipates, we essentially lose the very core of who we are. This has never been highlighted more intently than in a recently viewed film  Still Alice. The story of our life tells us who we are, what we want, where we are going, and who we want to be. Each experience is just that - an experience - and we are a collection of such.

I had no idea that a little decision in our kitchen would lead to a four-year friendship
with someone who challenges, laughs, loves, and encourages like nobody else.

Since I was young, I have been drawn to writing for this reason: capturing moments. I want to remember the experience of heartache, exuberance, beauty, pain... this Human Experience that connects us to one another, and yet the one that makes my story unique. I write to remember and return to this sense of Identity, and too often I fear that I will lose sight of these memories that make me who I am. Sometimes writing pulls me away from the present as words swirl in my head on a rolodex seeking to inscribe my story, marking proof of its existence in a tangible Forever. I write to hold onto the good and make it last... though I know it cannot. In this Lenten season, I remember the Identity God has spoken over me. I remember that in Him is fullness of life and joy everlasting. Nothing else will remain except for His Kingdom. Love enduring. I cannot hold onto these moments alone, surely others will outweigh the satisfaction or contentment, but Eternal Glory cannot be overridden. The Holy Spirit living in me must be my unending source of joy. He who never leaves, never fails, always overcomes, and always sustains.

A photo of Gratitude in the middle of winter.

Focal Moments

Although it has only been a few days since I traded plows for palms and boots for bikinis, when I think about last week, I get that same sense of nostalgia as if it happened years ago. In life, we are given focal points that help us ascribe meaning to moments; glimpses at Kingdom realities offering hope for life here on earth. Arthur Boers, author of The Way is Made by Walking, selects moments such as these with four affirmations:

There is no place I would rather be.
There is nothing I would rather do.
There is no one I would rather be with.
This I will remember well.

When these statements are affirmed, our world becomes illuminated with life-giving possibilities and our attention is turned to what's important. Moments such as these provide glimpses of the Good Life... The life we dream of and so easily lose sight of; the life we long to bottle up and store forever.

The first night I arrived: pina coladas and margaritas at Fair Weather rooftop bar

Roadtrip Crew to Newport Beach

Moments of kicking off our shoes and running into the sand to catch the last orangey hues of our first sunset together... gathering around our sunny patio table with mimosas in hand, exchanging questions and answers from deep within us... running into roaring ocean waves with a connected acknowledgement of our minuteness in the great vastness of the world... meals like a family seated around the table with that warm dinner aroma floating through the home... the anticipation of camaraderie and competition before racing a half-marathon with the people who challenge and encourage me the most... the cool air from the sea sweeping over the hot sand as a volleyball is bumped back and forth into lost evening light... cozying on the couch as we uncover games of our youth and play them until the wee hours of the morning... looking around and noticing all your best friends are in one place and disappearing together into a world where time melts away and life becomes as simple as sand and sleep.

Painted colors in the sky

Manmosas... Mimosas... Table Topics.

Coffee and conversation and feet in the sand

Volleyball on the backdrop of waves crashing and sun setting 

With every weekend such as this, there is the tension of living presently to soak it in while living in the future of mourning its end. It didn't help that while we were laying on the beach of SoCal dodging waves and lathering sunscreen, Chicago experienced the fifth worst snowfall of all time accumulating more than 18 inches and offering the city a Monday Snow Day. Was there anything convincing us to go back??!

Bro/Sis Half Marathon

Finishers!

I love these guys.

Mafia accusations

Our last morning together, we sat around with coffee and cinnamon rolls to share these moments... we remembered Togetherness and Community and Purpose... We lived in gratitude for a weekend that gave us such close glimpses of what this truly means.

I consider myself the luckiest of the crew to have my dearheart Suzy as my San Diego home, to whom I returned on Monday as if I were returning back to my actual place of residence. The way I describe Life with Suzy is that there is an always an adventure waiting to happen. I tend to gravitate towards people like this (cue: my brother Daniel) because they seem to effortlessly invite you into a vision of life as a playground where days are carefree and easy, offering endless possibilities, ideas, and explorations that have not yet been lived. Whether getting lost in dreamy bookstores, consuming mass quantitates of acai, or sipping on mid-day cocktails surrounded by a garden of succulents, life with Suzy is my favorite kind of life.

Getting lost in shelves of books is my favorite thing to do with this love

I could live on acai and burritos forever

Even Suzy's rough drafts are works of art.

Getting lost in all the dreamy places

Blankets, parks, and drinks...

These little mementos from Suz will sit on my desk to give me reminders of such good days.

Those that know me here know that when I said goodbye to sandals and blue sky to return to the frozen tundra of February, a piece of me stayed on the west coast. For this reason, I've been met with the question: Okay... so when are you moving to San Diego?!

One thing I hate about Chicago is how much I love it.

Looking out at the snow and daydreaming of the green, I ask myself WHY. But I know that the cycle of the seasons does something for my soul that I can't shake... it gives me a rhythm of slowing down and resting in winter so that I can street festival and beach in the summer... it shows me that life is still present in death and all things are made new. It reminds me of the faithfulness of the Creator to always bring spring, forces me to be thankful in desolate times, and gives me a free pass to watch marathons of Friends for days on days. I love the sun, but I crave the change that is offered to me every few months here in this city. It also helps that the people here are My People, and for that I am the most thankful.

Memories made this past week are ones I will live on for a long long time.