Missing Creativity

The last few months have been filled with teaching and learning and working, with graduations and memorials and family visits, with weekend trips and outdoor adventures and time with friends--in short, with the moments and events that shape a life. And so, because the number of minutes in a day is finite, other things, important things, have gone undone. My creative outlets have been neglected: my camera sits, dusty, on the shelf; my journal's pages remain blank, untouched for several weeks; the sewing machine is tucked back into a corner of the closet, its needle dull and unused; and my own corner of the web gathers cobwebs and loses readers as each day passes. And though the endeavors on which I have spent my time are worthy and valuable and necessary, I find I miss these other things too.

I miss looking through the lens of my camera, miss the time spent framing and capturing the beauty of the world around me, the satisfaction of freezing a moment of time, the mesh of light and color and subject that make a great photograph.

I miss the feel of fabric as I gently slide it through the machine, miss the feeling of making something both beautiful and useful, the quiet moments lost in thought, the slow molding of scattered scraps into a coherent whole.

I miss writing, miss the flow of words, the dance of fingers on a keyboard, the stroke of a pen on a page. I miss the clarity that comes as I allow half-formed thoughts to shape themselves into sentences, the sense of accomplishment felt as each word falls into place like a pearl on a string.

During this week's sermon, Mike spoke for a few moments about how our creativity is part of what distinguishes us, part of what "makes us a little less than God (Ps 8:5)*", and it is time I begin to explore this part of myself again. Out come the journal, the camera, the sewing machine. And with a soft whoosh of breath, I carefully begin to clear the dust from this lonely site. Thoughts have been brewing, and I am ready to make the time for them once again.

Hello, old friend. I've missed you.

*The other, more important part of what makes us little less than God is our capacity for building eternal relationships. This is NOT something that has fallen by the wayside for the past few months, and, for this reason, I do not regret the break from creativity.

Twenty-Five

When I was a kid, Sesame Street was one of my favorites. They always had a part of the show that was "brought to you by" a particular letter. Well, today's blog post just happens to be brought to you by the number 25! Are you excited?

In honor of 25, here are 25 random facts:

1)25 is the smallest square that is the sum of 2 squares (3^2 + 4^2)

2)The atomic number of manganese is 25.

3)Twenty-five is the national card game of Ireland (who knew there were such things as national card games?).

4)Twenty-five is the minimum age specified in the US Constitution for members of the House of Representatives.

5)Most rental car agencies and insurance companies consider one an adult when he (or she) reaches the age of 25, and adjust rates accordingly.

6)The 25th amendment to the Constitution was ratified in 1967. It specifies presidential succession.

7)The 25th book of the bible is Lamentations.

8)The 25th book of the New Testament is 3rd John.

9)Psalm 25 is an acrostic poem and is the basis for many songs, including Third Day's "My Hope is You".

10)Amaziah, Jotham, Hezekiah and Jehoiakim were all 25 years old when they became king of Judah.

11)A few months back, the "25 random facts" meme swept through Facebook (among other social networking sites) like wildfire. I did not participate.

12)Arkansas was the 25th state admitted to the Union.

13)Studies show that about 25% of humans will sneeze when they move into bright light.

14)United States mints have been producing quarters (twenty-five cent pieces) since 1796.

15)At its equator, the sun makes one full rotation every 25 days. At the poles, it takes about 36 days.

16)William F. McKinley was the 25th president of the United States.

17)25 is a 1-automorphic number, meaning that the square (625) ends in the number itself.

18)25 is also a centered octagonal number, meaning that you can form an octagon with a dot in the center using 25 dots (visit the link for a more precise explanation :-D).

19)There are 25 frames of video every second in the PAL format, which is the standard definition format typically used in Europe. (Since I'm an engineer at a company that produces equipment for the broadcast industry, this seems important to include in my list).

20)A silver anniversary is celebrated after 25 years of marriage.

21)In 2000, during the very close presidential election, Florida had 25 (key) electoral votes.

22)By week 25 of pregnancy, the baby weighs about 1.5 pounds, is about 8.8 inches long, and has a heartbeat that can be heard with a stethoscope.

23)Current life expectancy in the US is 77.8 years. This means that, by the time you've reached the age of 25, chances are you've lived at least one-third of your life.

24)According to a 2006 Gallup poll, the average American believes 25 is the "ideal age" for women to get married. In 1946, the ideal age was 21.

25)If 24 is such a great TV show, imagine how great 25 would be . . .

. . . so that last "fact" is maybe reaching a bit, but you'd be surprised how difficult it is to find 25 random facts :).

In all seriousness, though, 25 seems a big number, an adult number, a significant number worthy of some thought and reflection. I realize that our holidays and birthdays and anniversaries are somewhat arbitrary days that we humans note in this thing we call time, but it is by such days that we track our lives. The calendar and its special days add rhythm and order and structure to our time on Earth. And so, perhaps it is good for me to take some time today to think on the past twenty-five years and to dream and hope and plan for the next twenty-five.

... and, after typing all of this out, I realize that in making a fuss about how big and significant a number 25 is, I perhaps instead am demonstrating how young it is :).

Save the Words!

Every year, hundreds of words are dropped from the dictionary. These words are perfectly good words, beautiful words, useful words, fun words--but nobody uses them anymore. And so they are doomed to be outcast, not even really recognized as words any longer--for really, if it can't be found in the dictionary, do we even consider it worthwhile?

"But wait!" you exclaim upon learning of this sad fact. "What can I do? Isn't there some way I can help???"

Well, dear reader, I have good news for you. You can adopt a word. Cherish it, love it, use it often in daily conversation and encourage your friends to do the same. And maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to save that word from extinction.

So, head on over to savethewords.org, and do your part. :)

I did my part a few weeks ago. My special word is snollygoster, meaning "one, especially a politician, who is guided by personal advantage rather than by consistent, respectable principles." Seems a pretty useful word given the times ... there are any number of snollygosters in Washington these days.

Back to the Basics

God has seemed distant to me in the past few weeks. He is Someone whose songs I sing on Sunday morning, whose words I read during the week, but whose face and voice are lost to me amidst the daily details of life. And, while I know that valleys and times of silence are a normal and expected part of this Christian walk, I find myself wondering what I have done to seek Him lately. Have I made the conscious effort to see Him in the day-to-day tasks of work and cooking and dishes and laundry and teaching? Or have I gone into autopilot mode, skating through life with my eyes closed to His working? Do I see today, this current pursuit, this moment, as a gift, a vocation, a chance to live for Him? Or is it merely another day of monotonous tasks that must be done before I can "really" serve?

In my heart of hearts, I admit that the answers to these questions are not what I would wish them to be. And so I've decided to go back to the basics--to do what I can to recover the wonder and joy I first felt at being a child of the King. Nearly a year ago, I joined a "gratitude community", making the decision to seek out and note His gifts on a day-to-day basis. In the busyness of life, I've let that fall by the wayside, but I think it is time to revive that habit, to make a list of those "small" things that show me His love. This is not a formula, an "if I do this I'll feel close to God again" kind of thing, but rather an effort to put my heart and spirit back where they belong--kneeling in awe at the feet of an gracious and loving King.

And so, the list continues:

--lengthening spring days that allow for easy-paced bike rides on weekday afternoons.

--a last (perhaps?) dusting of snow for the season; waking to large, fluffy flakes falling onto peeking buds and blossoming trees.

--curling up under a blanket with a good book and a cup of tea on a blustery afternoon.

--third-graders at AWANA, eager to hide His Word in their hearts. Perhaps more for the promise of an earthly reward than for a heavenly one, but still those verses stick and will be remembered in years to come at times when they least expect it.

--the bright orange of a butterfly that flits ahead of my bike on a winding mountain road.

--the clean, new scent of freshly-washed sheets (washed by my husband, no less!)

Praise the Lord, O my soul! While I live I will praise the Lord; I will sing praises to my God while I have my being.
Psalm 146:2

Square Root Day

Because I'm a nerdy engineer (and proud of it!), I thought I'd take a break from the usual* content of Life According to Jenn and wish you a Happy Square Root Day (3/3/09). In all honesty, I think it should be perfect square day and have the true square root day be 9/3/03, but nobody else is calling it that. Perhaps this is wise--who wants to be a perfect square?

When I googled "square root day", I found this blog, which discusses holidays unknown to me before today. Did you know there's a Mole Day celebrated between 6:02 a.m. and 6:02 p.m. on October 23 every year? How cool is that? Or a Pi day, which occurs on March 14 every year? My favorite, though, would have to be Fibonacci day, which won't occur until 1/12/35. Be sure to mark your calendars for that one ... you won't want to miss it.

I apologize for the late notice about today's importance, but try to make the most of what's left of it--you won't have another opportunity to celebrate it for 7 full years (4/4/16)!

:)

*I almost typed "regular content", but that implies a frequency of posting that I have not achieved in the last few weeks ever. Please bear with me, though ... there are thoughts rattling around inside my brain that will eventually make their way into coherent posts.

Feed My Sheep

In the vain privacy of my own heart, I proudly gather my filthy rags and place them before Him.

Look, Lord. See how much I have done for You?

And, with echoes of a biblical account, He responds.

Jennifer Marie, do you love me?

Flustered, expecting praise and gratitude and receiving instead this question, I answer. You know I do, Lord. Why, look at this evidence. Flourishing one of the stained scraps of cloth I have clutched in my hands, I lay it at His feet. Don't I spend time in bible study and prayer most mornings? And I attend church faithfully, regularly, always have . . .

His voice cuts over mine. Feed my lambs.

And the question comes again. Jennifer Marie, do you love me?

Thinking I know what He is seeking now, I respond confidently. You know I do, Lord. I tithe what you require, relinquish it cheerfully just as You've asked. And I give charitably. I have Compassion kids. I . . .

Again, He interrupts me. Tend my sheep.

And a third time, He asks. Jennifer Marie, do you love me?

Somewhat hurt, I once again respond. You know I do, Lord. I write against poverty and abortion. I vote for politicians who affirm life and traditional marriage . . .

And the familiar words come again. Feed my sheep.

And finally, I begin to see that this demonstration of love, this "feeding of sheep" is an intensely personal thing, not something that can be done from a distance. Jesus spoke often of caring for the poor, the distressed, the sick and hurting and lonely and demonstrated His teaching through action, but He never did it from arms-length. Monetary giving is good, important, commendable, but it is not enough. Somehow, I have convinced myself that supporting ministry with my dollars is fulfilling His commands, when in truth it barely begins to scratch the surface.

True religion is down-to-earth, nitty-gritty, heart-to-heart and face-to-face. It involves being present in the trenches, reaching out to those in need and lending a helping hand. It is offering a home to the homeless, a meal to the hungry, hope to the hopeless. There are so many hurting, so many needy, so many who unknowingly long for the peace and love and joy that Christ can bring them. I cannot serve them all, but I can help a few. And this is what He is asking of me--that I be His ambassador to those He places in my path, that I seek out ways to demonstrate his love to others, that I actively pursue relationships with the desperate people in my world. He asks if I love Him and I respond with laundry lists of Sunday School to-do items, tasks which are decent and good, but so much less than the love for others that He desires from me.

And as this realization begins to make its way into my stubborn heart, I see that even these acts of service are filthy rags if not done in His redemptive power. When I offer them proudly as evidence of my love and piety, they are ugly. But when I offer them humbly, recognizing it is only through His power that I am able to love others, He takes them and turns them into something beautiful for His kingdom.

And so my response to

Jennifer Marie, do you love Me?

should be

Yes, Lord, I do. Though I try to demonstrate this in my life, I know that I fall short. Help me to be Your hands and feet, to truly feed Your sheep. I love You, Lord. Use me for Your glory.

Thru Jenn's Lens

I've started a bit of an experiment. You should check it out.

http://thrujennslens.etsy.com/

Please do let me know what you think regarding layout, prices, publicity, and anything else that might be relevant. I'll be honest and say that I'm not really sure what I'm doing yet, and would love to have any feedback from people who know better than I about business-type stuff. And if it flops, it flops ... I'm just curious to see whether I can turn a much-loved hobby into an extra source of income and, more importantly, if there are strangers out there who like my photography enough to buy it. :)

Oh, and tell all your friends!!!

Looking Forward

I was a senior in high school, counting down the days and hours until graduation, when I could finally shake the dust of my sleepy little hometown from my feet and move on to bigger and better things. To pass the time and to save a bit of money (and, as my parents said, to help me appreciate the value of a college education), I worked as a courtesy clerk in the only grocery store in town. My duties included everything from cleaning bathrooms to restocking shelves to retrieving carts from the parking lot, but more often than not I found myself in the front of the store bagging groceries.

She came through my checkstand on an ordinary weekday, a gracefully diminutive lady with pearly white hair and shoulders stooped with age. As she was leaving, pushing her cart in front of her, she asked me softly how my day was going. I answered with a smile, saying that I was doing well but would be glad when the weekend came. She stilled then, perhaps sensing the restlessness in my voice, my desire to move past this stage in my life, and peered at me over the glasses perched on the tip of her nose. "Don't wish your life away, dearie. You'll be my age before you know it." She softened the intensity in her voice with a wistful smile and continued on her way before I could respond.

At the time, I shrugged the moment away. Too busy looking forward to what came next, I thought of her wise words as a nice platitude, a trite cliché that had little bearing on life in the real world. And in so doing, I missed the opportunity to be fully present in that period of my life. So focused on college, I didn't completely appreciate the sweetness of those final days of high school, the comfortable and easy joy of being home, the opportunity for building relationships with family, friends, teachers.

I find it's an easy trap to fall into, this looking forward business, and I catch myself doing it far too often. Rather than savoring the gift of this moment, I long for the false tomorrow that my mind has created for me. Whether it's anticipation for the next stage in life or wishing it would finally roll over to five o'clock at the end of a work day, my refusal to be fully present in the here and now shows a profound lack of gratitude for the provision of today. Planning for the future and having hope for good things to come is all well and good, but my attitude should be marked as one of thanksgiving for right now rather than excitement for tomorrow.

And so I am working on living each moment to its fullest, on being continually, deeply, sincerely thankful for each breath I am given. I have but a few years on this earth, and if I only ever look forward, I will reach the end of them and look back with a wistful smile at the years not fully lived. Slowly, God is teaching me that every moment is a gift and should be treated as such. There are times when this perspective comes with greater effort than others--when pretty blue dinner plate collides with unforgiving wood floor and breaks in two, when work frustration looms large due to yet another failed compile, when I'm jogging and wondering why I'm doing this to myself again--but as I strive to be thankful in each moment, the future begins to lose its alluring power.

This moment, this place, this drop in the ocean of time is where I am supposed to be. There is joy to be had here, right now, if I will allow myself to be fully present, fully thankful for this second I have been given. I have no reason to live my life looking forward to tomorrow--today is more than I deserve and a blessing all its own.

Grace

He calls to me during a conversation with another believer, planting a whisper in this stubborn heart. A small Voice hints that something is not right, that this dark chamber in my mind defies the Light that is within me, that my attitude is not what it should be. At first, I ignore His quiet prodding and proceed in my own way. Isn't He being a bit unreasonable, anyway? This is just a small resentment, a tiny smidgen of anger, and these feelings are completely justifiable. Extend grace? Surely if He only knew my frustration, He would not ask such things of me. A petulant child intent on her own destructive behavior, I turn my back on His leading.

On Sunday morning, I sing the hymn along with the congregation: When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss and pour contempt on all my pride. And that tugging is there again, quietly asking, Do you really mean it? Annoyed, I try to shut it out. Now is not the time for this. Can't He see that I'm busy with worship? Oh the wonderful cross bids me come and die and find that I may truly live. Despite my efforts to drown Him out, the Voice is persistent, gently drawing on the words I have just sung to make His point. Dying is never easy, child, never what you want to do. But it is right. Give me your resentment and your sense of what is fair, die to your pride, and I will help you in this.

We've moved on to another song, and I am fighting. Fighting hard. I know that, in giving this attitude to Him, in asking for His help to change this hardened heart, it will be transformed. I know that asking for His help is what I should do, what I should want to do. But in this moment, I clench my fists around my stubborn pride and refuse to let go. I do not want a changed heart or a softened attitude, and so I cling to darkness and death, not wanting Him to bring light and life. I am like Jonah, knowing the goodness and mercy of God but not wanting the transformation it brings, though the change I am avoiding is not in an enemy of my people but in my own heart.

Ever so tenderly, He pries my fingers loose, imploring me throughout our singing and communion and sermon time to let go and release it all to Him. Each song I sing seems to emphasize my own desperate need for Him, my commitment to follow Him, the heart of humble love He wants me to exhibit. Slowly, almost against my will, I can feel a softening within me, a reluctant acknowledgment that my perspective is skewed and needs to change.

The leader of our communion time urges us to examine our hearts before partaking of the elements. He cautions that we must not take this lightly, that we should be sure that nothing hinders our relationship with God, that this is a sacred time to be treated with due reverence. And so, I finally begin to do that which I should have been doing from the first stirrings in my heart. My prayers are fervent, sincere. I pray not that I would be able to extend grace or that my heart would be softened--for my sinful mind cannot (or will not) ask for that yet--but that I would want to pray for these things.

The sermon on this particular Sunday comes from Matthew 18:12-35. At first the different sections don't seem to have much coherent flow, but as Jim teaches, I realize that, not only is there a common thread in these verses, but also that God is not done dealing with me yet. I've heard these stories, read these words dozens of times, but today He seems to be speaking directly to my stubborn heart. I read verses about a lost sheep and see God's extravagant love for the wandering, lost, needy soul. In the next few sentences, I'm shown to what lengths I should go to show that extravagant love to others, that restoring relationships with others is more important than my own pride. And finally, in the parable I can nearly recite by heart, I am reminded of just how hypocritical I am being when I choose not to show mercy and grace to another.

It hits me hard, this realizing anew how short I truly fall, and at last I am in the place where I can humbly bend my knees before the Father and beg His forgiveness and mercy. I pray that He would take my heart of stone and give me one of flesh, that He would teach me to love as He does. It is not easy, even once I've come to this place of humility, to accept a changed attitude. I have asked for His help, but my sinful heart will not relinquish control without a struggle. And with the struggle, I begin to get a glimmer of the truth in the songs I've just sung. I am nothing without Him. He is my righteousness, my pardon, my cleansing, and my only hope of overcoming.

What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

O! Precious is the flow that makes me white as snow.
No other fount I know, nothing but the blood of Jesus.

For my pardon, this I see--nothing but the blood of Jesus.
For my cleansing this my plea--nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Nothing can for sin atone, nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Naught of good that I have done, nothing but the blood of Jesus.

This is all my hope and peace, nothing but the blood of Jesus.
This is all my righteousness, nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Now by this I’ll overcome—nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Now by this I’ll reach my home—nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Glory! Glory! This I sing—nothing but the blood of Jesus.
All my praise for this I bring—nothing but the blood of Jesus.