Imaginary Photos

Holy kajolies.
Have you looked in your garden lately?
Errr. Maybe yours is fine. Have you looked in my garden lately?
Hy curumba those be big weeds.
Sheeesh. You get a lil distracted by some really important things and the next thing you know, Jurassic-park-sized unwanted green things are taking over every unclaimed spot of dirt in the yard.
The upside is those suckers are easy to pull out. And if you let them grow tall enough, you don’t even have to bend over or kneel to yank em. So that’s a good thing.
Always a silver lining.

------If I'd thought of it earlier, I'd insert a beautiful photo of a lush healthy weed here---------



Picked up Max from his first full day of work this summer. He looked pooched.
He fell asleep on the couch almost immediately, then woke up to have a bite to eat. By 7 he was passed out again. Finally at 9:00pm, he staggered from the room and announced he was going to bed.
You don’t understand. This is unheard of.
Never have I had a child voluntarily go to bed without an argument. Yes, still.
It’s something they never outgrew.

I’m sitting here at my computer in stunned silence.
He went to bed because he was tired.
Wow.
Something just slipped off its orbit and it’s freaking me out.



--------Pretend there's a touching photo of a lanky sleeping 14 year old here -----------------




So I signed up for three months. Been there twice. The weight is not dropping. At all. Sucks. I am going to go tomorrow and ride that stupid bike til I can’t stand it anymore. Then I’ll stop.
I’ll probably look in the mirror and be discouraged.
Goody.
Can’t wait til tomorrow.

I have a fridge that desperately needs attention. Really. There’s something in the back that sort of resembles a cantaloupe. It may have been one in a former life. Sometimes all it takes is time and a cool place for one to experience a transformational life change.
Not that I want to live in a refrigerator for any length of time, but I’m ready for an overhaul. Not just appearance, but in attitude as well.


“You are a bad parent,” he snarled at me just seconds before he left for the summer. His parting words cut deep, just as he had intended. He knew what he was doing.
“You are a saint,” she said 12 hours later. We were on her sailboat having devotions together. She was unaware of my shattered self image at the time and her words were a soothing balm.

It was Thursday morning, and I was at a Staff Development Day in Point Roberts. The ‘hit’ I’d taken the night before, in addition to my lingering cold, and the mega miles I’d put on my Durango driving from Cultus to downtown Vancouver a number of times during the week, had me depleted and running on empty.
I arrived at the Marina tired and negative.

Our morning devotions started with a story about a Texan named Carla Faye who had been on death row for 14 years for committing a pickaxe murder when she was 24. Her life had been filled with dysfunction, abuse and assault at an early age which accelerated as she became a pre-teen. By the time she was 10 she was smoking pot and drinking beer. At age 12 she became a heroin addict. She and her mother became prostitutes before she was old enough to get a driver’s licence. Being fed a diet of negativity and hatred her entire life; it was not surprising where she ended up.

We were to consider our ‘diets’. What were we feeding our minds and souls? What movies, books, music, conversations, activities, thoughts, etc were we feasting on?

Then we were each handed a bookmark and encouraged to read the words out loud as a group:

Who Am I?

As a child of God, I am…
· Fearfully and wonderfully made
· God’s workmanship
· Loved
· Chosen
· Rescued and bought at a great price
· A daughter of my Father
· Forgiven
· A new creation
· Free forever from condemnation
· A saint
· Righteous and holy
· Able to approach my Father with boldness, freedom and confidence
· Complete in Christ
· A temple where God lives
· A joint heir with Christ
· A citizen of heaven
· An enemy of the devil
As we read those statements out loud, we were to say “I am” before each point.

Try it.
No really. Try it. Try saying those words out loud, with the phrase “I am” before each one.

Did you do it?

Go back and do it now. NOW.



Did it grab your gut too?
Was there a catch in your voice too?

Which one fills your soul with joy?

For me, I teared up when I said “I am chosen”.
I am chosen.
He chose me.
Those are powerful words. Probably for anyone, but especially for someone who’s been dumped.

We were to break up into groups of 2, and share which truth was the hardest for us to accept. And then pray for our partner.

I sat there in the galley of that tiny sailboat paralyzed.
“Please God. Can’t I just go home?” I concentrated on my glass of orange juice as an uncomfortable silence slithered through the sailboat.
“I choose Jane,” she said.
I choose Jane.
Man.
Talk about words that can immediately sooth a battered psych.

“I’m having a hard time accepting that I am a saint,” I shared a few minutes later after everyone else had left the vessel. I didn’t confess all my failings to her but in my head I was going through the checklist: impatient, sarcastic, unreasonable, loud, lazy, overweight…

After we looked up a few bible verses, she looked me in the eyes and gently said, “You are a saint.”
And then she prayed for me.
Which made me cry. Which made my nose run. So I blew it. And then I broke into a coughing fit.
And the moment was sorta lost.

But still.
It’s sticking with me.
I have been chosen.
I am loved.
I have been forgiven.

Now if I can only stop looking like that wrinkled, fuzzy lump of fruit that’s morphing in my fridge…


----------Use your imagination. Pretend you looking at a picture of a caved in, squishy, weirdly textured, somewhat mouldy, kinda fuzzy multi-coloured bowling-ball-sized piece of fruit. -------------------------------