The Kind that Lasts

For two decades I've been blessed with the utmost confidence that as long as Andy Jones walked the earth, I would have a most trusted ally. As I take this walk through life I'm continuously recognizing who I am and learning who I want to be (cue Ben Rector's "When I'm With You").  As one maneuvers circumstances and decides what road to venture down, life can feel lonely.  Sometimes just taking on the day to day fears of life can seem daunting.   In the most trying of days, after mistakes or failures, in moments of fear and doubt, I've been pointed to the cross.  I've had my hand held and my ears filled with truth all the while being reassured that no matter what, I would be loved.  

To say I'm thankful for this undeserved blessing and the benefit it provides is a poor use of words.  If I were to try and describe how much I depend on my husband to comfort and protect me I would sound weak and maybe a little obsessed.  Over the years in seasons of insecurity my reliance on my husband has set him up for failure. Depending on any human for securities only God can supply is just plain wrong.  His intelligence is such that I expect him to know all the answers, solve all my problems and deliver knowledge on all subjects akin to google.  On a recent three day get away I found it delightful how time to myself could be perfected by the company of my husband.  In other words, when we are together alone, it feels like refreshing alone time.  We read each other's thoughts, finish each other's sentences, laugh at our individual eccentricities and belly laugh at life's irony.   

While this type of familiarity is wonderful it can also be a threat.  We are such one person I forget to appreciate him.  Often times when I have too many irons in the fire he's the first to be sacrificed.  My selfishness can be so consumptive I take him and the blessing that he is for granted.  We have had seasons of marital bliss and frightening times that were a fight.  We have struggled to love each other and have had to trust that God would bless our faith and once again instill the feeling of loving each other.  While love is not an emotion it does cause many types of emotion and forgiveness is always mandatory.  I'm so thankful for the pouring on of God's great mercy and how our love for one another has pierced through all facets of our being.

So I want to wish Andy a very Happy Birthday.  While falling in love so many years ago was a joy, choosing to love each other through all the years since has been the sustenance of life.   

Scattered and Overwhelmed

“Scattered and overwhelmed” are two words someone used to describe me recently.  The context was appropriate and the discussion edifying.  But oh my wounded pride.  That’s not at all what I want to be!  I want to be refined and capable!  Organized and trustworthy!  Humbly successful most definitely!  I realize each of these adjectives have one thing in common.  They are attainable to the eyes of my fellow man.  I wish my focus was trained on being sacrificial, thoughtful and quietly trusting. I wish I walked through life unconcerned with how others view me.  Funny thing is, my biggest concern is how I see myself.

I love efficiency.  Rarely will you find me in my kitchen cooking “a” meal.  I’m usually attacking pounds of meat bought in bulk and prepping it for the freezer as the night’s vittles are shoved into the oven.  Sometimes going for a run feels like a waste of time so I really like to run with a friend.  I can get my exercise and a little visit. If I can take my dog along then I’m golden!  It’s a beautiful thing, efficiency. I also have great difficulty starting a job I cannot complete. I have huge flower beds and I can NEVER keep up with the weeding.  I try to set aside an entire day so I can pull all the weeds infiltrating the acre or so surrounding our house.  As you would expect, the amount of weeding that must be done could lay me up for weeks if I try to clean them all out in a day.  So why can’t I just do a little at a time?  If I can’t accomplish a task then it’s really difficult for me to get started. 

Unfortunately, these character traits play out when it comes to my prayer life and study of scripture.  Perfect knowledge of God’s word is not attainable or even close to attainable.  Cue being overwhelmed. I like to pray while I run or as I’m cooking for my family.  However, sitting quietly in my “prayer closet” makes me feel antsy. I’m not saying this is good or acceptable.  I’m trying to say that even good characteristics must be overcome as we strive for holiness.  Efficiency and dovetailing isn’t bad.  It’s totally acceptable to pray while I do a great many things.  I also must make myself spend time resting in my Savior.  I’ve had two separate people during two different conversations encourage me to allow the Holy Spirit to pour back in as life uses up. 

I guess what I’m learning about myself is I’m still striving to earn the love God has already chosen to bestow.  He in His great kindness chosen to love me.  He chased me down and forgave me of my wretchedness and continues to see me as perfectly wonderful.  Tears fill my eyes at the relief of letting go of all I’ve been striving to be.  It’s impossible to be the perfect anything but a perfect culmination of mother, wife, co-worker, friend, and neighbor sets one up for failure.  It is futile and positively ludicrous. My family doesn't need me to be perfect. They need me to trust in the One who lived a perfect existence and atoned for all my past, present and future imperfections.

Sailboat

The last few weeks have been very uncharacteristic for me.  If you’ve seen me during this time period, no doubt I have responded to your standard “how are you?” with some form of “I’m kinda in a funk.”  If I were more thoughtful I’d be able to burden EVERYONE less.  I could respond in kind with a “Doing just fine!  How about yourself?” 

The good news is I’m learning a lot about myself and how my sinful nature is currently choosing to play out in my person.  The bad news is now I feel the urge to blog about it.  I recently read a wonderful blog post by Vaneetha Rendall Demski on prayer and the primary position it holds in her life.  I thanked her for this timely reminder and she responded by telling me she wrote that post as a reminder to herself.  She seems really smart so I’ve chosen to follow her example and blog the things I’m learning and the avenues God has chosen by which to direct His insights.  The simplicity of such realizations make me feel weak and a bit embarrassed.  I wish I could learn something once and adhere it to my soul in order to fasten it always to my heart’s desire. 

When Ben Rector wrote “Sailboat” he may have been thinking of a physical existence.  Maybe the musician wasn’t quite sure where he was headed geographically or in which city the tour bus would be stopping next.  Google no doubt holds these specifics but this song expresses quite beautifully how I have felt lately in a spiritual sense.  I’ve no doubt been frustration by my inability to be the sailboat as well as the One who makes the wind blow.  I really want to try and feed myself while living an existence without the need of nourishment.  Then when the waves roll no wonder I feel lost and alone.

I have seen the sun
Felt the rain on my skin
I've been lost and found
But mostly I've been waiting

In moments of worry perpetuated by concern for how others see me I’m oblivious to seeing the sun and feeling the “rain on my skin.”  While surrounded by blessings I’m so self-absorbed I feel alone, inept and as if I have failed in every way possible. Fear not, as He has promised God is continuing to make all things new.  I’m coming to realizations I’ve reached before and will one day need to reach again.  These types of blog posts are for me to come back to when my God-given eccentricities fall into sinful desires resulting in human frailty.  Feel free to disregard and come back when the material is more appealing.  

Kidnapped

I love listening to audiobooks.  I'm usually in the middle of one classic novel or another due to an inability to accomplish mundane tasks such as cleaning my house or weeding my flower bed, without turning crazed with boredom.  If my mind is occupied then I enjoy such tasks.  A recent favorite is Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson.

At one point of this elaborate tale the main character, David Balfour, is shipwrecked and washed up on an Island just off the coast of Scotland.  While thankful to be alive, the lone occupant experiences inconveniences any stranded hero might endure and struggles quite simply just to continue to exist. Balfour wanders the circumference of the island and finds on one side he can see the tops of buildings indicating there is a town just across the bay.  He attempts to cross the freezing, deep waters and fails.  His weakened condition and a lack of ability to swim prevents his rescue and requires a series of desperate, pitiful survival inducing efforts.  

Periodic torrential downpours make water relatively plentiful and shade from the Island's wooded center is essential.  There are lots of fish and Balfour is very capable of catching them but digesting said fish is a game of Russian roulette.  While the fish look identical they have completely opposite side effects. Sometimes, they are a source of temporary nourishment and other times he experiences food poisoning type explosions and cramping.  During the latter he fears he will die and then he fears that he won't.  As days go by and starvation sets in he craves the fish but is understandably fearful.  Stevenson portrays this pitiful existence brilliantly as he paints a picture of increasing desperation to get off the island.  On two separate occasions a fishing boat sails by.  The bedraggled man goes crazy, flailing his arms and calling out to the men on the boat.  Hopes of rescue are dashed when rather than attempting to help the poor man stuck on an island the fishermen smile, wave, and even laugh.  What kind of people would be so heartless?  The second of these two occasions the boat got close enough to shout at Balfour but could not rescue him due to yards of sharp reef buffering the shore.  During this transaction, two words were understood by our castaway.  "Tide"and a frustrated version of "whatever".  A lightbulb goes off in Balfour's brain!  He heads to the bay that seemed impassable and walks across the shallow water of low tide and into the town. Our hero had the means of escaping twice a day each of the seven days he was stranded. As Stevenson gives a window to his hero's thoughts we see the simplicity of this solution. In fact David Balfour acknowledges that had he stopped and rested the solution would have come easily. 

What a great metaphor!  How often do we feel stranded and alone, wandering around attempting to provide for ourselves?  We crave our sin that leaves us temporarily satisfied at best with the potential of  horrific explosions as the alternative.  Usually, our sin is feeding our isolation and the whole time we have been given the means of getting off the island.  We all have moments in life when we cling to our own devices of survival instead of giving in to the means of grace already offered.  

Skype and Guitar Strings

One of my greatest frustrations in life is this constant struggle with contentment.  I'm living the dream life with a wonderful husband in a beautiful home raising three of the finest humans I've ever met.  What is WRONG with me????

My 12 year old son brought his guitar to me the other day with a look of absolute disgust.  He was ready to chunk the once beloved Christmas present into the gas logs.  He had tuned said instrument, checked and rechecked his finger placement and it sounded terrible.  The budding musician was unaware that if you tune guitar strings to the wrong notes it sounds like nails on a chalk board.  The contrast in the sounds of the strings must be specific and precise.

Last weekend we had the pleasure of adding another teenager to the mix.  My daughter's friend boy came for a visit!  Emma and Winston have been super Skype buddies for a year and a half and get to see each other in person about twice a year.  On any given day Emma walks through the house humming and or singing...constantly.  A good day becomes great when she has time to Skype with Winston. However, after spending time with her buddy in person, returning to interaction via computer screen was difficult. The house has been very quiet with very little singing.  Chatting on Skype is GREAT, until contrasted with time in person.

I'm finding, in my advanced age, what ever aspect of life I'm currently finding unsatisfactory is due to contrast.  I'm discontent with my appearance when I've been saturated with famous people.  I fail to realize, "Hey, they're on TV for a reason." Often times discontentment is due to feelings of stress or being overwhelmed with all I have going on. This pressure is not piled on due to demanding bosses or the great importance of the task at hand.  Rather, I've placed perfection as my point of reference.  I'm just prideful enough to desire, even crave the praise of men and had I the ability to provide perfection it would grasp the attention of many.

My prayer is that I will set my thoughts on things above.  I'll tune my top desire to bringing glory to a holy God just as my son tunes the E string on his guitar to E rather than A sharp.  Contentment is not my goal but the lack there of is a pretty good indication that I'm contrasting my life's desire with worldly affection and love of self rather than finding my identity in the Most High Almighty God.  Who, by the way, happens to be the Creator of the universe and calls me by name.  Just saying...what is wrong with me?

#loveMildred

As I've matured these last 38 plus years Christmas has become less about what I'm getting and more about the people I get to see.  Last week I was able to visit one of my very favorite people.  She's my sweet little Grandmother who while pushing 85 still has a very quick wit.  When I was 14 I spent 5 weeks in Lake Jackson with my grandparents and had a blast.  The other adults in my life assumed I was bored hanging with the old people for that amount of time and I'm sure there were moments that seemed slow.  Mostly I just remember being completely spoiled and loving it. 

When I spend time with Mildred I feel like we would have been buddies had we met under any circumstance no matter the geographical location or period of time.  Had I been a little girl in Oklahoma during the 30's we would have made mud pies without soiling our pretty dresses.  Were I a youth in Blevins, AR in the 40's we would have talked boys and looked at glamour magazines.  We could have raised our children together in TX and chit chatted over laundry while our husbands were at work.  I enjoyed her so much as a grandmother during my growing up years.  I always thought she was so pretty with her red fingernails and sparkling jewels.  Oh the jewelry...a visit just wasn't a visit without pulling out all Memaw's jewels.  As much as I've enjoyed being Mildred's granddaughter as a girl I relish it as an adult.  We can literally talk for hours.  After spending a few days with her last week Memaw literally lost her voice. 

Everyone should spend a few days in some sort of home for the elderly.  It boosts ones confidence by leaps and bounds.  We walked the halls, ate in the dining room, and drank our coffee as we "shot the breeze" with all Memaw's friends.  One evening we had entertainment and the next we joined a sing a long.  Both nights I was asked to sing for the others in some capacity and was happy to humor all the old people especially the little lady with big dimples who beamed with pride.  Laughter is always a frequent occurrence when spending time with this Honea.  She tried to describe one of the friends I had made as "the crippled lady."  I had to inform her that "you all look a little cripple."  During one of our visits 5 years ago we were shopping and she was a little disgruntled that I looked better in a pair of jeans than she did.  To which I replied, "Lady, you're 80...if the opposite is true just shoot me!" 

I'm so proud of how Memaw continues to thrive at the age of 85 despite all her physical ailments that leave her weak, almost blind and dependent on others for help.  She's so brave to try new things.  Her most recent endeavor is the purchase of an iPhone.  She's gradually getting to know Siri and adapting very well. 

My cousin Garrett recently told me, "I like to think (Memaw) will live forever."  The thought of anything different is just too difficult to imagine. 

Passing Down HIS Importance

After a few months of courtship I could have listed off the many qualities I loved about Andy Jones.  No doubt his incredible wit along with his capacity to hold vast amounts of knowledge in his sizable noggin would have held top spots.  Since then the list has grown from a few items to pages and pages and pages of wonderful qualities that make him such a wonderful husband to me and father to my children.  One item that would make the list today I was hesitant to expect back in the dark ages of my 20th year. That man comes from one fantastic family.  When I was a new Jones I wondered if I'd be able to break into this fine family to the point of belonging.  The process didn't take long and no doubt required much patience on the part of my in laws.  I'll be forever grateful for their understanding my many immature eccentricities as I transitioned from a girl barely removed from those teenage years to someone older and hopefully wiser.

Imagine three grown children, their spouses and the 6 children we've collected through the years and throw them  together for days and even weeks at a time and most would fear the worst.  We have a blast. The only time any of us have come to blows was during the Iron Bowl a few years ago and those involved weren't long enough in the britches to know how to reign in such strong SEC type emotion.  We have a great deal of respect and appreciation for one another and adding one crazy Logan for comic relief definitely keeps us entertained. The key to this success is a common love and devotion for our Savior. 

This love has been passed down, prioritized, modeled and faithfully lived out by the ones we call Grammy and Gramps.  Thanks you two for raising your son in such a way that allowed the Holy Spirit easy access.  I appreciate the world view he has whose seed was planted by a refrigerator covered with pictures of missionaries. Thank you for loving him with the only love that could permeate his soul and has reflected into my life every day for almost two decades.

Happy Birthday Gramps!  We love you!