Sunday Night Musings: The Hands of God

I drove home from Atlanta earlier this afternoon in the middle of a storm. Lightning flashing, thunder rumbling, rain coming down in sheets so thick several of us sharing the windy road pulled over to the side until we could see it again.

I arrived safe and thankful to the peaceful respite of my home. I put away my things, rearranged the living room, and then lost myself in a book for several hours.

I sat on my front step for a while in the fresh post-storm evening, pausing between blocks of words to lose myself in the trees, the birds, the sky, and my thoughts playing out in front of me. I was reminded of something that was formed in my mind at the end of reading Brennan Manning’s Ragamuffin Gospel. I don’t remember exactly what it was all about, but there was this verse involved:

 

Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands…{Isaiah 49:16}

 

Earlier in the week of the reading of the end of the Ragamuffin Gospel, I had watched a video of Louie Giglio speaking at some sort of conference, as he is apt to do. He spoke on the very big creations of God and the very small creations of God. He talked about DNA, the specific code; the unique biological makeup of every person that names us genetically.

Whenever I had thought previously of the verse in Isaiah, I thought of my name in English scribbled on the palm of a very big hand, the edges of the letters blurred a little bit as ink bled through the crevices of skin.

This time, I stopped reading and had a different vision. A vision not of my English name, but my genetic name – my DNA, swirling in the palm of God’s hand. My genetic name {our genetic names} is a name that transcends all barriers of race and spoken language. Fitting of a Creator who has created people of all nations.

So I pictured not just my name, but the name of every person that God ever created and would ever create; the DNA of every person that ever was, is now, and ever will be, swirling and alive and moving in the galaxy-strewn velvet blackness of the universe, forming but perhaps not shaping the hands of our Father.

As I drove past the hills and the trees of North Georgia and East Tennessee today, I pictured God as the master artist molding all of the extravagant beauty of nature. I pictured him as a sculptor of our world, smoothing and shaping with his fingers and his palms.

I wondered if the identities of humanity are indelibly etched into his palms, if some of what we’re made of rubbed off onto the non-human part of Father’s creation. I wonder if this is why so many of us feel a deep connection, a longing to be outside; longing as I often do for the mountains, the forest, the ocean, the rivers, the lakes, even the arid beauty of the desert and the icy glitter of snow.

Perhaps it is a longing to be cupped in the hands of God; perhaps being in nature is yet another way of finding a kindred spirit with a thing crafted by a mutual creator. Perhaps it is a sneak peek of Home, a place we can recharge and refresh from our manmade shelters. Even the most beautiful house in the world is nothing compared with the House of the Lord that will house his children for eternity.

These are my musings tonight as I wind down and turn in to prepare for the week ahead.

I hope in the blessing of a new morning, a start of yet another block of days that have yet to know their existence – we will possess joy even in the midst of pressure and chaos, knowing that our names are lovingly carved on the palms of the One who loves us perfectly. Carved right in the heart of those instruments of great creation.

I hope we find wonder and excitement in the thought of being a part of shaping the breathtaking beauty of the nature that surrounds us as we live from, to, and through the abundant grace of it all.

When You’re Not Quite Happy with Your Job

It’s an easy thing to complain about a job. It doesn’t pay enough, it’s boring, your co-workers are awful, your boss is unreasonable, your hours are too long, you’re not getting enough hours, your benefits aren’t good enough, you don’t like your uniform, and etc.

Most recently in my own life, what I’ve had has been less of a complaint and more of a fear. While I truly enjoy my job, I was harboring a fear that my job is not “important” in the way that I don’t do enough to help other people. In my mind, to be doing something useful, I should be running some sort of non-profit or doing dangerous work in a country where running water is an anomaly.

So, in typical fashion of my take-control-and-make-this-better personality, I burned myself out trying to work my  “unhelpful-to-humanity day job” while taking on responsibilities equivalent to another full-time job for more obviously humanitarian things. It wasn’t sustainable, and I became an exhausted, stressed-out mess with no time or extra compassion to give to people I care about.

I spent some quiet time with God in the aftermath, and what he told me was this – no matter what I am doing or where I am, my main job, my real job is to love him and love people with everything I’ve got. When plainly spoken, it seems overly simplified and naïve. In practice, it is a little bit more complex and beautifully, messily rich.

I started working on a new perspective, increasing my mental and emotional focus on my work and accepting it as the bulk of my days from Monday through Friday. This involved saying no to new and cutting out existing extracurricular commitments. I began working through things at work I wasn’t completely satisfied with – streamlining processes, cleaning things up, mending and developing better relationships with my coworkers and staff.

I also had to retune my attitude – to be humble and accept the work God had provided for me instead of living in a constant state of discontent, where something in the future is my real calling in life. I am supposed to be exactly where I am now, and the sooner I realized and embraced this, the sooner I could start learning and living with the appropriate focus on the present. As a result, my character has improved, my joy has increased, and I have learned some important practical skills along the way.

In being a better listener, paying attention, and using whatever influence I have at work to make things better, I am learning that I can make a difference in the lives of those directly surrounding me in my work place and also the people we come into contact with on a day-to-day basis. The more I listen, the more I realize how much love, hope, courage, and kindness are missing from our world. Sometimes when we think about loving our neighbor, we forget or over-complicate the actual definition of “neighbor” as someone who is in close geographical proximity to us.

Jesus was a carpenter by trade, but when I think of the gospel accounts in the Bible, I can’t remember a single story about his day job. I assume he had a great work ethic and quality workmanship because he was Jesus, but they never point blank talk about his qualifications as a carpenter, his networking skills, or how much money he made.

The things that stand out to me about the life of Jesus were his unwavering boldness, wisdom, courage, faith, and compassion about the things he believed in. It seemed he always had time to remember people’s names and call them out one by one. He always had time to stop for a meal, have a conversation, listen to a request, heal a hurt.

He was a great unifier – it was in his presence that the religious elite and the social pariahs of the day gathered in one room. They may not have liked it, but they were together. The way he talked to you and treated you made you see the good you didn’t know you had in yourself and change your life in significant ways to live out that goodness. It was not his trade, but his character that made him a great man. It was, and is, his great love and compassion for the people that make us remember him, follow him.

There are times when a career change is legitimately needed, but I think those situations are fewer and farther between than we think. I hope we come to realize that no matter what we do – be it sewing in a factory, being a stay-at-home mom, saving lives in the jungles of Thailand, running a non-profit, working a fast food drive-through, or managing a multi-million dollar company – the really important job is loving well the people that surround us. This is a job that takes great humility, selflessness, and courage. May we be the kind of people who take on the challenge of loving hard and loving well with every aspect of our lives.

It is said that if we live without love, everything we say is like the clanging of brass or a crashing cymbal. Without love, we are nothing. Even if we give all we have to feed the poor or surrender our bodies as martyrs; even if we achieve the highest rung of our career ladders – if we do not live in love, we gain nothing by our selfless acts or our great worldly achievements.

Whatever our day job may be, let us strive to make love the great, lifelong work that overarches all of our other responsibilities; in this way may we add sparkle and significance to even the most seemingly mundane and insignificant of work places.

Sister Letters: To My Sisters Unhappy With Your Bodies

This letter is part of a series of Sister Letters…you can read the heart behind these by clicking here.

Dear Sister,

I was sick of feeling sick and tired, done with critically examining myself with disgust and self-loathing each morning in the mirror. Tired of having a closet full of clothes I didn’t feel comfortable in. Of worrying about the day when I would be naked in front of a man I have committed my body and heart to for all of this lifetime. I decided it was time to make changes.

Have you ever felt the same way? Is change overdue? 

I have spent many years doing obsessive research on holistic health and wellness. Diet, exercise, stress relief, the latest super-food in the name of looking and feeling good – I’ve read many articles and spent a lot of money on all of it. I have concluded that there are three secrets to being physically well:

1. Eat a moderately portioned, well-balanced whole foods diet full of fresh fruit and vegetables, lean protein, complex carbohydrates, fiber, and healthy fats.
2. Engage in a consistent exercise routine
3. Get enough sleep, generally about 7-8 hours per night

I imagine several of you are disappointed, twisting your faces at the screen. The things listed above are foundational, boring. They are things you heard in high school health class. Not only this, but they require discipline and self-denial over an extended period of time. They do not magically obliterate ten pounds in ten days for that first-of-summer bathing-suit-involving event you’ve been invited to attend.

In a world of instant gratification and the lie that there is always a quick way out of the consequences of our actions, we’ve been deceived. Sometimes, there is no shortcut. The constant propaganda about how we should look  and what we need to buy in order to get there has given us a skewed sense of what it means to be beautiful, of what it means to be well.

Not only this; I know it gets more complicated. Many of us struggle with eating disorders – much of the time in secret. I’ve struggled with mine and the shame and discomfort that has come along with it for more than a decade, finding my way to healing just this year. I found that at the root of my physical hunger lay a deep spiritual hunger. With the help of therapy, grace, and love I am finally filling the deep pockets of hollow emptiness with prayer, scripture, and a daily wrestling with who I really believe God as Father, provider, lover, and friend to be.

The truth is, our bodies are fearfully and wonderfully made. If you have ever studied the scientific discipline of human biology, you must concede that the way our bodies work is nothing short of miraculous. It’s sheer genius. All of the physical and chemical components that go into day-to-day functions and things like reproduction and childbirth – it’s absolutely crazy.

On a spiritual level, the fact that our bodies are modern day tabernacles for the Spirit of the living God; containers for the presence of the one that created the universe…how often we forget to allow this to inspire awe and reverence for the home of flesh, bones, sinew, nerve and blood that our souls occupy day in and day out.

When we are unhappy with the way our bodies look or feel – we have to take responsibility for the way we fill our physical and spiritual hunger; for the way we build our physical and spiritual strength. We can and should ask for help along the way, but despite the latest self-help manifestos the foundational things that make us physically and spiritually well and strong never change. And, they will always require us to be women of discipline and self-denial. I am sorry if you were looking for something else when you began reading this letter today. 

What I will tell you is what I more or less tell you at the end of all of these letters – you are beautiful, worthy, and good. You have a unique and awesome purpose for your life that you can choose to accept or deny. If the way you feel about your body and the choices and habits that lead you to that feeling are keeping you from this purpose and the fullness of your identity in this life – please consider making changes from this moment forward that take you closer to the essence of your being; closer to who you were created to be.

Love,

Sindy

Reflections on Mother’s Day

One of the first things I read this morning was an email from my mother listing the location of a list of important items that would be needed upon her death. She wrote that nothing unusual had happened, she just wanted us to have that information. These are the times that most clearly remind me I am an adult, just seven months shy of thirty years old. That if the life of my mother were to end, I would be largely responsible for the affairs and responsibilities that would follow.

As I opened up Skype on my phone to call her {she lives in Taiwan} and wish her a happy mother’s day, I saw an instant message she’d send me: “Went to the hospital for checkup. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Panic bubbled up in my heart. She hadn’t picked up my phone calls the other night, was something horribly wrong? Was she on her deathbed on the other side of the world despite her comment that nothing unusual had happened? My mother is hard to read sometimes. She’s not outwardly emotional and expresses herself rather matter-of-factly. Was cancer or other life-threatening disease now a usual everyday thing? Had she been hit by a car {pedestrians do NOT have the right of way in Taiwan} and was laying in a hospital bed somewhere, asking her nurse to text me on Skype and write me emails? My mind ran through several other scenarios; an active imagination can be as much curse as blessing.

I waited for her to pick up with tears in my eyes as I made efforts to quash my irrational and fearful thoughts. When she picked up I breathed a sigh of semi-relief and wished her a happy mother’s day, and then wasted no time launching into “Are you okay? What happened at the hospital? Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?”

After I had been reassured ten times that she was okay, we had a good laugh {well, mostly she had a good laugh} about it all. Because she knew everything was fine, she hadn’t connected the death document email with her Skype message about the hospital as things to be put together and subsequently, to be alarmed about.

After I lectured her about eating a healthy diet with lots of vegetables involved, we chitchatted for a little while longer, then she went to bed and I went to make myself breakfast {she’s 13 hours ahead}.

I am quite thankful my mother is healthy and well. However, I was reminded today of how easy it is for a couple of lines of spoken or written word to announce something that can completely change your life for the worse. The fragility of it all just seems a little unfair.

It also reminded me that if we allow our busyness and distractions to keep us from loving our dear ones mindfully and purposefully on a consistent basis, there may come a day when the end of that dear one’s life will be a swift surprise that leaves us in a state of regretful shock.

I don’t know why, but it often seems those most lovingly familiar to us are the ones we take for granted and neglect the most. In our minds, because their physical proximity is a consistent thing or they are bound to us by blood or marriage, they will always be there. A million other things can first occupy our time and emotional and mental resources, and when we are finally done with those then we can make a little bit of time for them. The truth is, if we do not make time for those most important to us, the time will never present itself.

In a world that teaches the importance of building relationships for status, fame, and self-indulgence and validation, may we be a countercultural people of nurturing relationships humbly and quietly for the sake of keeping  authentic love alive.

I hope we will make it a way of life to honor those closest to us with our resources, time, creativity, and attention on every day of the year and not just on the days that greeting card companies make decorative pieces of paper for. That way, when we do present a decorative piece of paper or some other trinket on the appropriate day, it will mean so much more.

Thank you to all of you mothers who pour out your lives and put yourselves second for the sake of your children. You are raising up a future generation that will carry on the legacy of humanity. May you remember this truth when your mother’s day cards have turned into part of the clutter and your bouquets of flowers have wilted; may you remember this when you get lost in the dirty diapers, loads of laundry and dishes, and the many other menial tasks of the daily grind.

To my own mother – thank you for loving me even when I repeatedly broke your heart. You could have given up, but you didn’t. Thank you for believing in me and dragging me by my scruff through the darkest periods of my life – you believed in me and pushed me to achieve what was best for me even when I could not believe in myself.

Thank you for all of your support, grace, forgiveness, and unconditional love. I don’t know where I would be without you. You have raised me up into the woman I have become, and you continue to teach me and love me still. I hope I am blessed by your presence in my life for many, many more years to come.

My mom and I in Central Park in NYC.

Sister Letters: To My Scared Sister

This letter is part of a series of Sister Letters…you can read the heart behind these by clicking here.

Dear Sister,

The truth is, I used to be scared of everything. It started when I was a little girl, with spiders, lightning, heights, dogs, cats, the dark. I remember clinging to my father’s leg like a little sloth during storms. The only way he could move was to lift his leg one in front of the other with me attached to one of them.

As I got older, I maintained all of these fears and picked up other ones. I developed obsessive-compulsive rituals to prevent my loved ones from dying or my boyfriend from dumping me. I gripped pepper-spray in my sweaty palms and held my keys between my fingers like Wolverine’s blades in case someone wanted to jump out to rape and kill me. I carried antibacterial gel and wipes to demolish bacteria, slept with emergency kit by my head in case an earthquake or fire happened while I was sleeping.

Instead of rejoicing in each day that went by where I was provided for and safe, I was constantly caught in the irrational obsession of what bad thing was going to happen to me. I missed out on a lot of adventures, a lot of joy.

By the time I was 26 years old, I had attempted to insulate myself from the world by packing on twenty extra pounds and drowning myself in reality television, trashy magazines and books, and other similar garbage. I was numb in many ways and a control freak in every sense of the word, clawing and scrambling to order everything just so to prevent the disaster that was constantly waiting by my door.

These days, I’m a lot braver. You see, I’ve discovered the opposite of fear is faith. Faith in the knowledge that there is a God in heaven who created us, loves us, and protects us every nanosecond because we are precious cargo. Faith in these truths, they will change your life and make you bold.

The only way to let faith grow so it overshadows the fear is to practice it. Looking back on the last three and a half years, I’ve done some things that seem reckless and a little bit crazy in retrospect. But if we never step out of our comfort zone, never let go of control, how will we know that God can handle it? How will we experience God’s provision when it seems there is no provision to be had?

Since I quit my job a couple years back, sold most of my stuff, and moved across the country by myself {you can read that story by clicking here}, there has never been a day where I’ve been naked, homeless, or hungry. I have a good job, new friends, and nobody has tried to kill or rape me, not even in the many sketchy gas stations I’ve set foot in.

I didn’t get eaten by Sasquatch or mauled by werewolves in the New Mexican wilderness. Zombies have not eaten my brains, not even when I slept by myself in a tent by a creek in the middle of a wide open field on a farm in Tennessee.

One very important thing in overcoming fear and developing faith – there has to be a sense that something is more important than the fear itself. There has to be a sense that you are meant for something more than this scared, compartmentalized, overly-controlled, anxiety ridden life that you are living.

If I am describing your life my dear sister – would you consider a change today? Just the beginning of a change? You are without a doubt meant for so much more. But you have to get your butt off the couch, your hand out of the potato chip bag, and turn off the reality TV or the news; the latter of which I believe is designed to frighten you out of ever leaving your house.

You have to stop frantically controlling everything and let go of your rituals to soothe your frazzled nerves. You have to stop all of that. You have to trust that everything will not fall apart and the world will not implode.

Once you regain your critical thinking skills and pick yourself up off the floor, write down what matters to you, what you love more than yourself. Write down your fears, why you are afraid of them, and what you need to do to overcome them.

Hang this on a wall where you will see it often and start asking the Lord to give you courage and show you how to be released from the bondage of your fears. Ask him to show you what your true purpose and identity is. Ask for his protection and the awareness of his all-powerful presence and guidance. Ask to see him, know him, and understand and know his love for you. I think you will find that fear melts in the presence of a pure and mighty love. It wraps you in its golden glow and leaves no room for anything else. For there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. 

You were meant for more. You are good. You are brave. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are guarded, protected, precious cargo.

Do not let the shackles of your fears keep you from believing these things any longer; do not let them keep you from digging deep for the full and adventurous life waiting to be unearthed in your heart.

Love,

Sindy

What I Learned from a Manly, Bacon-Filled Evening

My apartment was in rare form last night – filled with testosterone, massive amounts of cured pork, and homemade gravy.

David and Brad with platters of cured pork.

The first time I remember seeing David Womack was at the self check-out section in Lowe’s. He worked there, and I remember thinking he looked angry. It turned out we attended the same church, and we eventually bonded over the mutual interests of reading books, Cracker Barrel, Farmall tractors, county fairs, and discussing God and the church.

When I heard he was moving to Alaska to help plant a church, I wanted to do something nice for him before he left. I racked my brain and decided that he should invite a couple of friends over so we could have a Southern breakfast extravaganza. I would make pancakes, biscuits, and gravy; and everyone else could provide some sort of greasy breakfast meat so I could have grease for the aforementioned gravy.

At about seven o’clock yesterday evening David, Nick and Brad showed up with about four pounds of country ham and bacon and several bags of chips. At one point, Nick was frying bacon up on two separate cooking surfaces.

Nick frying bacon like a true champion.

Since the bulk of my social time outside of groups is spent around women, being the only female in a group of three guys was a very interesting experience. Because they all knew me well enough to feel safe and comfortable being themselves, it was an entertaining and educational night; like watching a live documentary about a different species. There were a couple of moments during the night when they would lower their voices to a whisper or tell me to look away, but for the most part it was an uncensored view into man-land.

I learned and re-learned some lessons about men last night, and I’d like to share them with you here. As always, these are simply observations I make and I welcome commentary and/or your opinion whether you agree or differ with my opinion. Here goes –

Men like food.

Particularly large quantities of meat and pancakes. The old adage, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” is not without validity. While I’m normally the annoying healthy person {I still snuck whole wheat flour into the biscuits}, I encouraged the mass consumption of bacon, carbs, and gravy last night.

Piles of food. Covered in no gravy, a little bit of gravy, and a LOT of gravy.

When my girlfriends and I make food, we try and make it look nice, set the table, and have a balanced meal. Not so with guys. The table was simply covered in piles of breakfast food and chips, and when it was time to eat the guys grabbed plates and piled food onto them in stacks and drowned it all with syrup and gravy. At one point someone grabbed a handful of gravy and threw it on their plate.

Men enjoy simplicity and avoid complexity when possible.

In the context I’m talking about here, I simply mean when men hang out socially, they don’t feel the need to catch up on feelings, relationships, and talk about issues that plague society. The guys I hung out with last night are all extremely intelligent. David has his masters of theological studies from Lipscomb University. Nick builds 3-D printers for fun. Brad tutors people in organic chemistry.

With all this in mind, I would call the conversation last night fairly crude and not particularly intellectual. There was no hugging or complimenting each other on their hair or contemplating plans for the future. They didn’t want to do arts and crafts together to make something pretty. Yet, I know that each of those guys is devoted to each other and would give you the shirt off their backs. If I needed help I am confident I could call any one of them and they would come help me without complaint.

Men want to be accepted as they are.

I really enjoy opening my home to people. I’m sort of a perfectionist about everyone getting everything they need and it can get in the way of actually enjoying someone’s presence. We were missing a couple of things last night, and each time I apologized, one of the guys would say, “Don’t worry about it Sindy, this is awesome. We have everything we need.” I was also wearing an old sweatshirt and jeans with holes in them and had my hair in a messy ponytail, and I didn’t feel awkward or judged by them once.

I read somewhere that people will treat others as they want to be treated. My man-friends accepted my hospitality and me as a person and were content with it. They didn’t feel the need to compare it to anything or to look for what was missing. They didn’t feel the need to fix anything. They were simply there to eat food to the point of discomfort while talking about bodily functions and the spiciness of ghost peppers.

Last night was a reminder of how different men and women are, and how easy it is to misunderstand each other if we aren’t aware of each other’s differences. I hope we all seek to have more understanding of the opposite sex so we can learn to live and work together well.

David – I hope you’ve digested all of that bacon and gravy. You have so much to offer and you are going to be a great blessing in Alaska. Thanks for being a kind and thoughtful friend, even through some tough patches. Thank you for always accepting me as I am. I’m going to miss seeing you in Cookeville, but may our paths cross again – if not here then surely when we get Home. Until then, thank goodness for prayer, telephones, and the internet for communication. Onward ho, for the sake of the Kingdom!!

Sister Letters: To My Bitter and Angry Sisters

This letter is part of a series of Sister Letters…you can read the heart behind these by clicking here.

Dear Sister,

It was not a pleasant thing to discover I had quite a generous streak of bitterness inside me. Nice Christian girls are not supposed to be bitter; they are supposed to be sweet as {the} pie {they bake}.

Sometimes it’s hard to detect the bitterness inside of you because it builds up over time. You usually notice it all of a sudden in an unpleasant way. Kind of like those five pounds that build slowly between Halloween and the end of the year that are just “there” until you go to put on your sexy jeans for a New Year’s Eve party and discover the new muffin top you’ve acquired.

Bitterness and anger go together. Bitterness is when you pour the vinegar on top of the baking soda and anger is the foamy, messy eruption that results.

A lot of the time, it’s hard to recognize or detect bitterness because we wallow in it and it becomes part of our reality, part of our personality. It oozes out in the form of excessive sarcasm, constant trash-talking, onerous doses of complaining, sullen silence, and the overall malaise or malcontent that comes with a passive aggressive hatred of the world and everyone and everything in it.

When I discovered I was prone to bitterness and anger, I decided I didn’t want to be either anymore. I’ve thought about this quite a bit and I’ve decided bitterness stems from three main things: pride, un-forgiveness, and entitlement. If those are the causes, then I would venture to say the antidotes are humility, forgiveness, and thankfulness.

On pride & humility - I know us women like to think we are always right, but the reality is, we are not. Most of us also have major control issues. It’s never easy to suck it up and admit we are wrong, but if we are overly sensitive or resistant to this, there is a larger issue at play. A wise friend of mine once said that pride is a complex manifestation of bad self-esteem. This would explain the ever popular inferiority-superiority complex.

The next time you find yourself puffing up arrogantly about an issue or the work of another, pause and take an honest look at yourself and where you are with all of it and try to see the plain truth instead of coloring everything with your own perspective. Scripture tells us to remove the plank from our own eyes before we try to remove the speck from someone else’s eye.

If you are having a conflict with a person, talk to them peacefully to determine the problem and try to resolve it. Know the difference between a difference in opinion and a critical need for resolution. Even if someone does not agree with you, have the respect and honor for them to allow them their viewpoint and the self-preservation to let it go.

On un-forgiveness and forgiveness – my pastor in California once said that un-forgiveness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. It will slowly fester and kill your soul and your hope from the inside out, while doing very little damage to the object of your wrath. I have seen this first-hand in my own family and within myself. Search your heart and be honest about any grudges you are still holding and then resolve to release them. If it’s something really intense, you may want to enlist the help of a counselor.

On entitlement & thankfulness – as a whole, we are a very privileged group of people. Sometimes, a very privileged group of people that does not acknowledge what we have but rather focuses on what we think we still want. More often than not, we always feel we are entitled to more – without wanting to work for it or change our own behavior.

Instead of being thankful we have a job, we want raises and accolades because we’ve been somewhere for awhile even though we do mediocre work and don’t go the extra mile.  We feel the world should treat us with kindness and respect, even when we are rude and taciturn to the world.

I promise your life will change in immense ways if you start sincerely giving thanks for what you have and all that is around you instead of focusing on what the world {and God} owes you. You might be rather rusty as I was, and need practice. Start small – simply write down three things a day you are thankful for. The more you do it, the easier it will get.

One very important last thing – every time you feel bitter or angry…each time you notice pride, un-forgiveness, and entitlement rearing their ugly little heads, pray. Ask for new perspectives and a change of heart to foster humility, forgiveness, and thankfulness in your life. Not only will your prayer life improve dramatically, you will also find the presence of someone much bigger than you helping you along.

I hope my observations have been helpful today. You are beautiful, precious, and loved – with much to offer the world. Don’t let the shackles of bitterness and anger keep you from experiencing a joyful life; don’t let it keep you from achieving the fullness of your purpose in your time here on earth.

Love,

Sindy