Hope in the Wait.
“For we through the Spirit by faith wait for the hope of righteousness” Galatians 5:5
There are times when things look really dark to me- so dark that I have to wait even for hope. It is bad enough to wait “in” hope, to see no glimmer of a prospect and yet refuse to despair; to have nothing but night before the casement and yet to keep the casement open for possible stars; to have a vacant place in my heart and yet to allow that plave to be filled by no inferior presence- that is the grandest patience in the universe. It is Job in the tempest; it is Abraham on the road to Moriah; it is Moses in the desert of Midian; it is the Son of Man in the Garden of Gethsemane.
There is no patience so hard as that which “endures” as seeing him who is invisible, it is the waiting for hope.
Thou hast made waiting beautiful; Thou hast made patience divine. Thou hast taught us that the Father’s will may be received just because it is His will. Thou hast revealed to us that a soul may see nothing but sorrow in the cup and yet may refuse to let it go, convinced that the eye of the Father sees further than its own.
Give me this Divine power of Thine, the power of Gethsemane. Give me the power to wait for hope itself, to look out from the casement where there are no stars. Give me the power, when there are no stars. Give me the power, when the very joy that was set before me is gone, to stand unconquered amid the night, and say, “To the eye of my Father it is perhaps shining still.” I shall reach the climax of strength when I have learned to wait for hope. _George Matheson
Strive to be one of those- so few- who walk the earth with ever-present consciousness- all mornings, middays, star -times- that the unknown which men call heaven is “close behind the visible scene of things.”
______
This comes from a devotional I basically live by called, Stream in the Desert. It was written in the early 19th century and has since been revised and editted, like any great work, and seems to have made its way into the deepest part of my heart- the cherished portion.
Out of all days to read this particular day, this one was the one that I needed it most. Although life seems so decent and wonderful at times, never doubt that within every persons heart lies wanting and questions that stem from every sort. Today God has comforted me in knowing that He knows even when I can’t seem to see the Light, the star light that is.
Resistance in our seasons.
Professionals vs Amateurs _War of Art (pg 62)
A spring artists defeated by Resistance share one trait. They all think like amateurs. They have not yet turned pro.
The moment an artist turns pro is as epochal as the birth of his first child. With one stroke, everything changes. I can state absotlutely that the term of my life can be divided into two parts; before turning pro, and after.
To be clear: When I say professional, I don’t mean doctors and lawyers, those of the “professions.” I mean the Professional as an “ideal.” The Professional in contrast to the amateur. Consider the differences.
The amateur plays for fun. The professional plays for keeps.
To the amateur, the game is avocation. To the pro it’s his vocation.
The amateur plays part-time, the professional full-time.
The amateur is a weekend warrior. The professional is there seven days a week.
The word amateur comes from the Latin root meaning “to love.” The conventional interpretation is that the amateur pursues his calling out of love, while the pro does it for money. Not the way I see it. In my view, the amateur does not love the game enough. If he did, he would not pursue it as a sideline, distinct from his “real” vocation.
The professional loves it so much he dedicated his life to it. He committs full-time.
That’s what I mean when I say turning pro.
Resistance hates it when we turn pro.
What a wake up call! I feel drawn to be the professional and all the while I have the tendencies of the amateur.
I believe that seasons of life are distinct, adding value, molding character and play a defining role in our stories. Saying that, this particular season of waiting has made my mental state step up and fight back against some pretty lofty lies. I find that the more I seek, the more I do find- Truth that is, peace and goodness you see. So for the past weeks to months I have had no other choice but to seek, it was how I have flourished in a season of waiting, in the midst of the scenery that I wish to have changed months ago.
Your too serious Natalie is what I know some of you have to be thinking. Ha! Maybe so. But the fact is, there is a real Enemy out there who would love more than anything to take the ground any one of us have gained and do one of those linebacker assaults to keep us from moving a toes’ legnth forward.
That’s why I love this book by Pressfield. He is familiar with Resistance. He knows what it is like to live a life that has seasons heavy with the weight of its’ body. He knows that to be moving forward means strengthening all that is within us, around us and touching us to prove to Resistance that we do indeed mean business.
WY: Days 5-9
Lander- no one on God’s green earth could have convinced me that Lander would be worth my second thought. No one! Not even the president of Lander. It has that sort of name that propels me to boredom immediately. Here in Wyoming the state is known for being the least populated with about a handful of towns sparsely strewn between the desert, mountainous backdrops. Lander is one of those fortunate cities with a population of around 7,000.
Krissy and I had been on the road about 4 hours before we pulled into this scanty make of a town. And from the past 2 towns that we had just driven through that topped the charts with a population of less than 40, I was barely hopeful that Lander would satisfy any sort of adventure seeking spirit that was running through our bones.
As we drove in, judging the old book by its cover we laughed as we saw the 1880s gleam from every corner. At first sight of our hotel, the RodeWay Inn, I almost turned the car around for the comforts of Cheyenne a good 4 hours backwards. Onward we drove though, all 16 blocks of town. After our rendezvous we decided to settle in the room and then head to the coffee shop that was said to host the many outdoor enthusiasts that attended the local outdoor training school, Nols.
FolkLore was the name of the spot. The word itself invoking mystery and my favorite, “story”.
The name added western zest to the place and invited us in with every piece of eclectic decor. I realized we had just made the best decision of the entire day by walking through those doors. Greeted by Daniel, a local, whom was the barista, we ordered our decaf and headed to the couch. Krissy and I soaked up that place like a sponge to water.
This “selah” was in addition to our many other reflection spots about, dreaming and life and passion and all those things that make your day worth living. As we sat across from one another and exchanged thoughts and ideas that would otherwise be considered silly and unattainable, I realized that life is more than I had been making of it. In WY, all things seemed attainable, all my dreams seemed right around the bend. The open ended skyline combined with inescapable beauty was inspiring for anyone who had breath and brought life into perspective with every dawns’ break. And for Krissy and I it awakened something deep down inside of us both, something that had long been asleep, maybe even not alive at all.
After the shop we headed over to Gannet Grill which was recommended for their amazing salads and pizza. Little did we know what surprises were waiting for us there. As we waited for our order I let my eyes wander around the cabin sort of building and land on the various western decorations that were all strewn about. A huge Wyoming sign was nestled in the corner of the room and pictures from the original town square were on the wall behind me. Dinner came and conversation ceased.
The table next to us had caught my eye upon our entry. One gal with red hair that was as long as it was beautiful was journaling. And her friend, whom was a brunette seemed to know a lot of the people in the place cause she moved from one conversation to the next. I wanted to meet them. The gal writing was intiguing and the way they conversated with one another, I could tell they had adventure pumping their blood.
“Hi”. I said as I heard their talking pause. They both looked over in a startled way. “Hi” I said again. “I just wanted to meet y’all, are you from here?”
And that is when destiny entered the moment.
We sat in those chairs for the next 2 hours exchanging stories and tales of life. Madison, the red head was 20 yrs old. She was so mature for her age with a desire for art history and heart for ranching in WY, she quickly stole Krissy’s and I heart. Michelle was the brunette. She was almost finished law school and about to start practicing when her lack of contentment and zeal for ranching life propelled her to do something her family and friends never deemed appropriate, she left the firm she was working at and started looking for jobs in ranching. They chased their dreams all the way to WY.
So the two gals found the same ad on Craigslist and had accepted the job on the ranch just a little over a month ago.
We exchanged numbers and made a plan to meet again tomorrow for a tour of the ranch. We went back to our hotel inspired, changed and in awe. The conversation lit us up like a Christmas tree. We all left revved and thankful for what I like to call a “God collision”. Krissy’s deepest desire for this trip was to see a ranch, to meet a real cowgirl/boy and learn what it took to be a real life rancher. In the matter of one dinner conversation all 4 of us had received something that we never imagined possible in the midst of strangers, we gained life.
I couldn’t sleep at all that night. All I thought about were the “desires and dreams” that were deep within me that I had felt were impossible to carve out. God challenged me that night. Like He whispered to me just days before,
“Natalie, dream as BIG AS THE SKY”.
Really? I mean, the sky, it’s so big and all those what ifs.
“Natalie, dream as BIG AS THE SKY”
I heard Him whisper to me again. And same with this night as I laid there wide eyed and expectant. I knew it was time to “live”. To really live like I had nothing else to do but passionately pursue what He had chiseled in my heart.
The next AM I woke with no problem. I was out the door and running up the streets of Lander within minutes. It was probably a light 60 degrees and it felt great to be up so early. We hit the coffee shop up and headed to the ranch. This is where our hearts desires became reality. We had breakfast on the porch with our new friends and even a surprise visitor, Eyore, one of the 5 horses at the ranch.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in an old miners house that we made up stories about and of course shooting guns, which only I seemed to have loved so deeply. Here’s a short clip…
The day was divine. Heavenly and without a fault. I left that ranch a different person. The conversations were laced with talk of dreams and desires and how if one wants, one works and aims straight, then that one shall not miss her mark. Challenged and lit with excitement I was ready for the world. I was ready for anything. The gals left a mark on my heart that was hard to shake. They were strong, spirited and headed in the direction of their dreams. I knew it was no coincidence that we met here, that we were drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. There was something so much bigger behind our time together and it was just another piece to the puzzle that God was putting together called, our lives.
Our next spot was Yellowstone and Jackson Hole… writings to come…
Be gone expectations, be gone.
Be gone expectations.
Be gone.
Your limits suppress me, they hold me behind lines and keep this heart from reaching far beyond.
Be gone expectations.
Be gone.
There are things that this heart must delight in but with your grip it can never happen.
So just go!
Just let me and all my Dreaming be.
Give me back those things you want to take with you- that hope and strength and costly veneer.
Be gone expectations.
Be gone.
You cloud out what is true and give me a shabby second hand wish of a view.
How limiting you can be to little ol me.
Be gone expectations.
Be gone.
WYs Adventures 2010!
This is the small downtown of Cheyenne, WY where Krissy’s parents are living…
They are real country western out here…. and I realized how “city” I am….
This was the first hike we took in Estes Park. That place is fabulous… Filled with majestic beauty… it’s tucked into the bottom corner of CO right along the Rockies. It has mountains for days. Wild horses, camping for everyone and of course trails that will bring you winding and twisting through the endless ravines, valleys and mountains of the area. I have never been so FULL of Gods’ majestic goodness walking through these woods.
I asked Jesus for Velveteen Elk and sure enough He delivered. We were heading to the summit of the Continental Divide that sits more than 10,000 ft above sea level and with one turn of Ranger Greg’s truck we were staring at this mighty animal munching on his dinner. There was a whole posse of them. Some just eating, one doing his best to show us what he was able to do by jumping and prancing over the area.
Side story:
The 1st night of camping left Krissy and I to change our plans for the rest of the vacation. You see we were just star gazing at the massive night sky. If you know me at all, you know that my favorite thing in the world is stars so I rearranged my sleeping bag to be poking out the front of the tent so I could gaze till I fell asleep. Well the mosquitos were relentless and within a half hour I was back in the tent, zipped in my sleeping bag, head next to Krissys’ and trying to fall asleep. Which is a hard gig while YOUR ON THE GROUND!
Some expertise nature lovers bring blow up mattresses but for us city slickers we were not as resourceful. Neither one of us were sleeping as we heard some shuffling going on around the right side of the tent. All of the sudden we see a shadow RIGHT OUT SIDE OUR TENT, like something approaching us.
I am thinking, “who the heck is by our tent and is he going to harm us?” In the same moment I looked up to see a FREAKIN BEAR!
I KNOW!!!!!
I yelled and then Krissy chimed in as her head bobbed up and she saw the furry creature sniffing the ground where MY HEAD JUST WAS!
It was awful.
We woke the whole neighborhood I am sure but namely mom and dad whom were sleeping right next to our tent under a overhang. Mom saw the bear but dad was dead sleeping and as he rolled over to see what the matter was, calmly said, “it was probably a raccoon”.
NO DAD, IT WAS A BEAR.
Let’s just say we did not sleep that night and we have since made arrangements for a hostel for the remainder of our outdoor activities.
I will never forget SEEING A BEAR!!!!
The next day we went to the Ranger station to get directions and the gal there said,
“Oh, how lucky that you got to see one!!!”.
Really? These people breathe adventure.
Funny.
I have these friends of mine, Chris and Meghan Matt. They are a great duo that has this uncanny resemblance to each other. I find that tends to happen to people that marry, they some how start to morph into the other person in respect to their looks. This is not across the board but I dare so 80%.
Chris and Meghan work at the Dream Center in Baton Rouge. They have recently taken on the role of “Children’s pastors” for the 6 to 11 age group. I had the opportunity to visit them on Father’s Day the other week and share with their kids about “Immanuel, our Heavenly Father”. It was a great time of learning about when the kids feel alone, how they can implement “God their Father” into those moments.
This is about a story of Chris however.
The other afternoon in the park, Chris was hanging out with some of the kids that he works with. They were sitting around eating lunch and Demarcus, one of the boys, looks at his daughter Presley and says, “is that your daughter?” and Chris said, “yep”. And then Demarcus looks at his son Moses, whom they just adopted from Ugnada and say, “is that your son?” And Chris responded, “yep”.
Demarcus looked confused for a second but then in a moment with relief on his face he said,
“OH, so you have a BLACK wife and a WHITE wife!”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Not really Demarcus but good guess!
Faith is needed for Faith.
It was two weeks ago and I heard that small voice say Isaiah 6.
For me Isaiah 6 is like a mother Scripture! It’s strong, profound and supernatural. All which I deeply love. So I happily went.
I read the verses in my usually fashion, with awe and reverence. With my heart racing at the thought of seeing the God Almighty in all His glory. With that eerie emotion of heaven and its immensity.
I can not wrap my earthly mind around such massive comprehensions. Isaiah responds with a response of: “Ah! I am a sinful man, I have unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips!”
His realization of lack of purity was so strong as it was humbling and dare I say embarrassing. The whole scene is so beautiful to me.
But God just had me starting there cause I was compelled to read on even though it was way past my bedtime mark. I read into chapter 7. Isaiahs’ first mission from his initial call. He is addressing a king whom was about to be in the midst of a terrible war. He challenges King Ahaz with this,
“Unless your faith is firm,
I can not make you stand firm”.
That is when I stopped. I was drawn to those words like a kid to his cake. Why had I never seen them before? What a profound bit just staring back at me. So strong and deep, so provoking…
“UNLESS YOUR FAITH IS FIRM,
I CAN NOT MAKE YOU STAND FIRM”.
I was smoked! I knew from the depths of me that some parts of my heart were not firm. That these were the words that I needed to hear, needed to understand, needed to implement into my lifes’ very moment.
Yes I have faith. I am the craziest Christian gal I know. If I have one defining characteristic it would have to be my faith.
But I am seeing now that just a name is not enough. Faith without action, faith without passion and gumption and deep belief is just any other something. And frankly God made a thousand, million other things for that, not me though. He made me for greater and more exquisite happenings. He made me with details to numerous to imagine and countless, endless life to be lived. That is if I am up for the task.
I bet this whole bit never stops too. I am only in my 20s but I guarantee you that through life there will always be moments of needing “fresh faith, more faith, stronger faith, longer, deeper, wider faith. Faith that can withstand the storms as much as the stillness. Faith that can look at defeat and know that it will all be used to work together for the good of those who love Him. Faith that could have easily dismissed the very idea of faith but knows that it would be dismissing itself. That is faith.
UNLESS YOUR FAITH IS FIRM, I CAN NOT MAKE YOU STAND FIRM.
Yesterday was one of those days that you know was eternally impactful. Not everyday is like that. Heck! You might go a month without having one of those strong moments. But thank God for Thursday!
For the past 3 weeks we have had a program happening at our church called SI. This student internship requires the kids to “step up to the next level” and be a part of the church in a way not previously offered. We teach them in classes, play lots of games, eat lots of snacks, play too much basketball and make sure we are getting “out into the community” for very sure. It has been one amazing time after the next and I hate to say that my heart hurts to think of the end of July when the kids will be getting ready to get back into school mode.
Thursday was memorable though for a thousand reasons but I will give you just a few. First of all I left BR at 5:15 in the AM. That was a miracle in itself! Ha! I got to Donaldsonville and loaded up the lunches and cokes into the shuttle and pulled out into the streets well before 6am. I would roll up to the houses to the kids waiting outside with a smile on their face and glimmer in their eyes. I picked up 13 kids, all filled with anticipation and excitement. I would honk the horn and yell out the open doors, “All aboard”! It was quite the scene.
We got to Chalmette, well, late. I didn’t know the traffic I was up against nor had I ever been to Chalmette. It is most certainly NOT New Orleans, it is actually quite far from New Orleans altogether but moving on… we made it there and were introduced to our leader for the day, Pastor Boogie. I KID YOU NOT! (joke goes here).
So Pastor Boogie was a local and was in charge of driving us to the outreaches. His old age and knowledge of his hometown led me to believe that most certainly he knew what he was doing. Again, “led me to believe”. Our first assignment was, well we will call it a trailer park neighborhood. From the moment we got there and Ps Boogie said, “split the kids up and go down the street and come back up and I’ll be back by the time you get here” I knew I was in for an adventure. I scary one that would be.
We stepped into the freakin Twilight zone. It was just me and the kids till Boogie got back from his errand. It was only a couple of trailors into our walk that I stumbled onto the path of a middle aged woman talking to what seemed to be a friend. She was talking like I was not standing in front of her with a flyer in my hand. It was loud and obscene and you would have thought she would have greeted me but she just muttered something about the heat and kept looking at me but talking to the other girl. I just gathered she was busy and kept on myself.
Next were 2 girls. Probably about 15. One had a black eye and they just stared aimlessly at the road in front of them. “Hey!” I said but to no avail. They just kept a steady gaze on the road and peddled their way past us. By this point I was feeling the strong sense of coldness and quite frankly feeling a bit scared. I focused on getting to the end of the road and getting back into that safe van.
I knew the heat was killing the kids but it was no option to stop. We passed another house with another barking dog. No one was answering their doors and no one was making small talk. This time we came up to a man. He was in a lazy boy recliner and had some sort of blue drink in his cup. He was positioned under the shade of the trailer and was closing his eyes as if the pit bull beside him was not barking a mouthful! Troy, one of the kids, walked straight up to him and put a flyer in his hand. It was as if nothing happened. The man took it and closed his eyes against the sun and readjusted himself back into his chair.
I was more than ready to go at this point and as we made our way back up the opposite side of the block the kids were growing tired. Complaining started around this point. And then it happened. A man, about 50 or 60 rode by on his bike. He told the kids in front of me, “this is a bad neighborhood” and then passing me he whispered under his breath, “this is a bad neighborhood, it is for herion addicts, you better gooooooo”.
That was all I needed. I put one of the kids on my back that was struggling and said, “go to the end of the road, FAST”.
I knew Twilight world was more than I could handle or anyone could handle at that. We needed the van and we needed it now! Boogie showed up with a smile on his face and peace on his heart. “How did it go? he asked. Well I just found out we were in a junkie neighborhood and not really welcomed but other than that we are just fine, can you turn that AC up?
On to the next spot. Another trailer park neighborhood but this on was cleaner and brighter. Just as still and quiet but more inviting with its open yards and fresh cut grass. Definitely no twilight zone people here. We hopped out and were ready to rock and roll, well so I thought. I could see the sun squeezing out every bit of energy from the kids and for some reason the vision of helping others had faded into the sweat pouring down their backs.
We needed a pep talk. I called a team meeting. “In a huddle” I scolded. And off I went. I couldn’t help myself. The negativity from one child was attaching and spreading itself to each of the other ones. I was watching it unfold and knew it had to be squashed. “Okay, why did we come out here” I asked. “To serve” one of the kids said. Awesome! So let me just remind you that we do not leave a place until our mission is complete and by the looks of our hands packed with flyers it seems that we have some work to do. Do y’all understand? Yes mam was the consensus.
I told, not asked the team that quitting was not an option. I reminded them that everyone was very much aware of the heat factor and that it really didn’t make a difference cause we were not finished with our minimal task. I finished my spiel and we all started walking. I felt like a Nazi but I knew negativity and a hot walk were not enough to throw in the towel- I was not letting the oppression take us out.
By the time we hit the end of the block I could see the kids countenance changing and they were actually making a game out of who could get to the doors first. TJ was attacked by the tiniest Chihuahua and that kept us all laughing until the next block. With about 30 something houses left I knew I had made the best decision.
We got to the end of that block and all huddled around the front of the van. I said, “Everyones hand in”… “one, two, three…. MISSION COMPLETE” We were a different team when we got back on that van from the time we had gotten off. I knew it was a number of things but what I know now is that resistance is a great enemy that needs to be identified in our lives before it defines our lives instead.
As we drove through the 9th ward towards Interstate 10 I could hear the camaraderie among the kids. We had defeated conflict and as you might know without conflict, there is no good story to be told.
This is the Story.
Ben Arment and fellow creative gurus have started a project called “Story” that highlights the creative side of church.
In this 2-day seminar we learn how to tell the story of God to the best of our creative capabilities. It entails talks from highly esteemed authors, teachers and artistically savvy people.
Last year a favorite writer of mine, Don Miller, was on the docket. Though under the weather he delivered a solid message on how to write a better story with our lives. He resolved that “conflict” alone is what any good story flourishes upon.
Also a new face to my world, Dave Gibbons smoked us with his “Desire to Connect” talk. His opening included Isaiah 6 and as each word he read came from his mouth, my heart connected with every breath. I knew I was in the right place.
It was an exceptional time and I am anticipating that this years event will surpass the last. Some small changes have taken place such as location and amount of people that can attend. It will only be accommodating 500 people with only 250 seats left. To me it is well worth the time to get up there. There is nothing like being in a room with a bunch of creative minds wanting to tell the greatest Story in history to the world in the most imaginative ways! It’s a must for writers and more importantly for the creative alike.
Let me know if you need someone to go with you, I am still waiting for the Big Guy on this one!
Here’s a blurb from the creators.
STORY is a conference for the creative class in ministry on September 23-24, 2010 at Park Community Church in downtown Chicago. The purpose is to fuel the church’s artists, writers and producers in communicating the greatest story ever told. You’ll hear from some of the best creative practitioners in both ministry and the marketplace, from filmmakers and authors to actors and musicians. Presenters include:
# Dan Allender – best-selling author, professor at Mars Hill Graduate School
# Charlie Todd – creator of Improv Everywhere in New York City
# Princess Zulu – AIDS victim from infancy, advocate for the oppressed
# Jason Fried – founder of 37Signals, creator of Basecamp, author of Rework
# John Sowers – president of Donald Miller’s The Mentoring Project
# Shauna Niequist – former creative director at Mars Hill, author of Bittersweet
# David Hodges – formerly of the band Evanescence, award-winning songwriter
# Leonard Sweet – futurist, author of 40 books, professor at Drew University
# David McFadzean – creator of Home Improvement, producer of Roseanne
# Richard Walter – accomplished screenwriter and professor of film at UCLA
# Sean Gladding – member of Communality, a new monastic community
# Andrew Klavan – author of True Crime (Clint Eastwood) and numerous novels
# Gary Dorsey – founder of Pixel Peach Studio in Austin, TX
# Music by Vicky Beeching, Kari Jobe and Carlos Whittaker
Here’s the Story
Here’s the Story
This is the Story.
Ben Arment and fellow creative gurus have started a project called Story that highlights the “creative” side of church.
In this 2-day seminar we learn how to tell the story of God to the best of our creative capabilities. It entails talks from highly esteemed authors, teachers and artistically savvy people.
Last year a favorite writer of mine, Don Miller, was on the docket. Though under the weather he delivered a solid message on how to write a better story with our lives. He resolved that “conflict” alone is what any good story is based around.
Also a new face to my world, Dave Gibbons smoked us with his “Desire to Connect” talk. His opening included Isaiah 6 and as each word he read came from his mouth, my heart connected with each breath. I knew I was in the right place.
Last year was exceptional but this year the line up is looking like it will be just as grand, if not grander. Here’s the speaker list:
# Dan Allender – best-selling author, professor at Mars Hill Graduate School
# Charlie Todd – creator of Improv Everywhere in New York City
# Princess Zulu – AIDS victim from infancy, advocate for the oppressed
# Jason Fried – founder of 37Signals, creator of Basecamp, author of Rework
# John Sowers – president of Donald Miller’s The Mentoring Project
# Shauna Niequist – former creative director at Mars Hill, author of Bittersweet
# David Hodges – formerly of the band Evanescence, award-winning songwriter
# Leonard Sweet – futurist, author of 40 books, professor at Drew University
# David McFadzean – creator of Home Improvement, producer of Roseanne
# Richard Walter – accomplished screenwriter and professor of film at UCLA
# Sean Gladding – member of Communality, a new monastic community
# Andrew Klavan – author of True Crime (Clint Eastwood) and numerous novels
# Gary Dorsey – founder of Pixel Peach Studio in Austin, TX
# Music by Vicky Beeching, Kari Jobe and Carlos Whittaker
Rise.
I wrote this, well let’s just say I was going through and getting on with some things. I likey though.
Rise
If my heart could laugh or cry
I believe it just might die
Wishing, hoping, and believing for the stars of the sky
Has made this life want a million things and still comes up with why?Reach further I hear You say-
Reach longer and deeper and without a hesitating sort of way-
Not wasting another moment, another breath, another day.For it’s possibly that in that reach you could grab the feat that begs for your life to sleep.
And captive you take it as you rise to your feet.
And the worlds eyes they look at you and realize that you do indeed mean defeat
And they beg not to have you standing, staring, heart blazing and loud with its beat.So new as you rise-
Your eyes’ gaze reach that worlds glance and they realize it’s their turn to die.So rise,
Rise,
Rise to be-
What your soul whispers and those enemies can not stand to see.
My muse you ask?
Sheer victory.
Follow your gut.
I always had the tendency to be led by my heart instead of a “plan” per say.
In many a instance it works perfect for my life but over the past 18 months or so I could tell I was having to make a shift. And so as my soul cried I successfully incorporated the once loathing process of planning into my life. I have to say it makes a bigger difference than I ever imagined. Things get done. I can prioritize my life so that the things I know God is calling me to do can actually be achieved instead of just thought about and most of all I am effective in all my activities because I am not scrambling to the next and being pressed to “make it all fit”.
But not today. Mondays are my days off and I tend to find myself working out for longer periods of time, reading books that have collected dust and spending time with loved ones. Today I had two things to accomplish; get outside and prepare a talk for my job tomorrow. I left the house to go to gym on my bike. I am a big believer in killing two birds with one stone. So I would get to the gym and ride my bike.
Once the gym was accomplished I wanted more riding than just the 4 miles back to my house. So I took my time on an alternate route. I ended up stopping at the bike shop to get a tail light so I could ride at night. Whoo hoo. But I wasn’t ready to go home, I had more adventure to get out of the moment. Instead of my usual left turn back in the direction of the house, I went right. And I am glad I did.
After about 2 miles I saw something I love to see when on my bike. She is tall with her big hair back in a visor and she is pushing her pedals hard like I do. She’s a mentor of mine, one that I only see while randomly riding my bike it seems. She used to be a more fixed fixture in my life but that was then and this is now.
I know she loves her QT so I felt her out to see if this was one of those times. Her smile opened to conversation and for the next several miles I got to share in a moment that enlivened my spirit like a worship song. I told her all about where I was in life and she listened like she does so well and then started doing what she does best- giving me wisdom.
She said so many brilliant things but namely she said this…
“It doesn’t matter how you entered a season, it’s how you finish it that counts”.
I am sure with the thousands of things we hear I have probably heard those very same words once or twice but today it was different, today I knew it was something God wanted to speak to me very precisely.
My next season is about as determined as the wind blowing. I know what He has told me to sustain me for now and that is “Wait”. There have been a million lessons in that wait and I pray that I learn them all. But as for the not having my every next step mapped out, I will assume that it is less about having that plan for the next season and more about completing and finishing the one I am in to the best of my abilities.
Moral of the story, don’t always go left when deep in your heart you are hearing to go right.
Imma be, Imma be… Imma be a “pro”.
This morning’s “resistance” excerpt from Steven Pressfields’ “the War of Art” smoked me in the gut. It’s as follows…
“We do not over-identify with our jobs. We may take pride in our work, we may stay late and come in on weekends, but we recognize that we are not our job descriptions. The amateur, on the other hand, over identifies with his avocation, his artistic aspirations. He defines himself by it. He is a musician, a painter, a ___________________.
Resistance loves this. Resistance knows that the amateur composer will never write his symphony because he is overly invested in it’s success and over-terrified of it’s failure. The amateur takes it so seriously it paralyzes him”.
Pressfields’ statement is meant to sway its’ readers that we are not to be amateur in our thinking but rather pros. Pros know better than to think as the above states.
So much of my life has been swayed by my position or lack thereof. If the case for my existence was the position then sadly we would all be chasing the wind. For even people with the poorest of morale and character can make it to any position they deem to set their mind to so it seems.
I however have seen more so lately that the less I am defined by what I do, the easier I am defined by who God says I am and what He desires to see birthed in my heart and life.
The thing about this though is that “pleasing people” is somehow thread through the fiber of our existence. Well at least for us amateur morphing into pros. We look at “them”, are defined by “them” and base our whole life around the things that have been defined as “worthy of praise and pursuit” or won’t we?
myStory revised.
So I put this little diddy together for a contest I entered but this is the expanded, beautiful version. It’s longer and has Glory by Sean Feucht playing- which has revolutionized my life in thousands of ways. It’s an 11 minute song but I clipped it to 5 minutes.
This is myStory. Well it’s a large chunk of it. I have to save some stuff for the book 
I hope you enjoy. And yes, I wrote this and made the video all by my little self!
Bec’s visit… Come on Egypt….
There is NOTHING like beautiful Sicilian sandwiches called Muuufooolatos by some. This was quite a day. Bec had never seen the French Quarter so this was quite a day for her. She will never forget it I am sure, thanks to the wonderful, unique LA humidity. Ummmm hmmm.
This one is because I think she is pretty. I don’t have a friend like Bec. She’s real deal ALL the time. She keeps me laughing most importantly and I have no one in my life like that. She makes sure that dancing is ALWAYS a part of a car ride cause Lord knows we can’t dance on our feet, only in the car seat! She is a lover, a laugh-er and a passionate pursuer of great fun.
One. Never mistake a plethora of frozen yogurt options as a good deal. It’s a lie. The cup either weighs pounds pre yogurt in cup or that dairy is heavy! Two. If ever in New Orleans there’s a great spot on St. Peters that will take all your dollars in exchange for heavenly goodness. Three. Repeat two.
Because in 100% humidity and 90 degree weather and random nooks in the French Quarter that require you to buy something to use their facilities we grabbed these fine teas for the start of our adventure. FYI blueberry and green tea seems to be something quite magical.
This confirms many things. Namely my love for Apple products and OAKS. Don’t be mistaken it was hotter than Hades in that shady spot. I will forever be grateful to God for those majestic beauties. There are thousands of things that point me in the direction of our Heavenly Father and top on that list is Oaks. Find one near you!
So my Bec realized that although Mardi Gras is only seasonal it does NOT mean that the apparel is as well. Seems that every corner, sidewalk and tree branch around Baton Rouge is holding the beauty of plastic jewels. She couldn’t resist to wear her prized possessions that were redeemed from the bank of the ole Mississippi.
They say it is a “secret garden” but I will tell you were it is for a price. Okay, for free. Houmas House offers a fine frenzy of eye candy. If you have a spare afternoon and you are a lover of nature and sorts then mosey your way down highway 10 to that hidden jewel of a plantation.
Hope…
A sea of desert one might say. When Hope is at bay. When life seems astray.
The thing with Hope is it is what sustains your very life.
It is what empowers your insides.
It is the gas in the car, it’s the food our soul feeds on and the breath our bodies breathe on.
I lost a bit of Hope somewhere this year, maybe March-ish or April-ish. I remember discussing a major theme or three with God in reference to my life. It seems that even if you talk to Him about something or if it is Him that tells you a specific thing or three- it leaves you no guarantee of His immediate follow through or fruition in your next snappy second. He gave me something sacred over the past months to years. And after receiving such things He was the one to develop them and nurture them and watched them grow in me. All the while, nothing in the physical making itself known, just little ol me dreaming, hoping, believing and now as I see- developing…
So in regard to this predicament I wrote about a man whom was acquainted with such things, Joesph. It reads like this…
Ol Joe_
Ol Joe had a dream, as many of you may know.
One of fame and prestige, honoring and bending of others knees.
How Joe held to that Promise I will never know.
With chains on his body and rejection that scarred his heart,
He held onto that dream- even thru the deepest dark.
I hear along the way he was honored- even given the choice to leave his mark- but patiently he waited, never wavering the Promise God had whispered to his heart.
I wander what he told himself, how he talked himself to sleep.
I wander if he thought he was forgotten,
If he wanted to break down and fade into eternal sleep.
Ol Joe, how did you do it?
How did you not let waiting become your defeat?
How did Hope remain the anchor of your heart and God’s glory the pursuit of your feet?
See Joe had something he was clinging to, something else that led his hearts’ beat. And I am finding if I can press in a bit further- in those times of my hearts’ weary need, that what Joe had is also mine to be. That his God is mine and He knows my every tiny need. See this life that we are blessed with is not a game of hide and seek. It’s no secret His plans for us, it is only more faith and patience that we need.
And so He has been schooling me on all these many things. I am learning how to trust Him, even when I can not see. I heard the other day that on a dark mountainous excursion you would much rather the first three steps in front of you illuminated, not the far away peak. And so I am learning how to walk in that obscurity, step by step to that glorious mountain peak.
Project.
My feeble attempt to tell my story for a contest that Don Miller did.
I was late. So here it lands on my blog. I want to add to it all that the poem below this post contains. This will take more time which seems to be like water in my hands these days- just running away.
Enjoy.
Natalies’ ShortStory.
The problem with want for me was,
“Not knowing what my wanting wanted”.
And so my story began…
“If you find in yourself a desire, in which nothing in this world satisfies, the probable explanation is you are made for another world”. CS
I remember picking up a cigarette because I wanted something.
Maybe I wanted the friend I was with to like me,
Maybe I just wanted to see if all the commercials were right.
Now I know it was neither.
I remember longing for Acceptance.
I remember wanting Love’s precious touch.
In a thousand faces I searched for them,
But never coming up with much.
And so my wanting became my conflict-
I remember wanting to find a true friend,
One I could confide my whole heart in.
I found a thousand friends,
But never that one.
Then I was 20.
Hope’s blissful scene was fading-
And Reality became my history in the making.
Wanting, searching, yearning…
I found myself at deaths door.
I knew I had gone too far.
I knew I believed in a lie called More.
3 days after returning home I met Providences’ fate.
My dad was given 6 months to live-
They had found a tumor in his brain.
My mom also began to fight.
Weeks after finding his,
She received a diagnosis for her life.
I yearned for Hope and Security
And all the wonderful things
That held lifes’ fabric together at the seams.
None was found,
I was left to my knees.
Watching my parents fight challenged my entire life.
I left a guy that hit me,
Spit on me
And somehow someway stripped away my identity.
I stopped letting my life happen to me and instead I started happening to my life.
I stopped wanting pleasure.
I stopped looking for love.
I started needing answers
My eyes looked above
This is when Jesus entered my story.
He pursued me like a man crazy in love.
My life started changing.
And I no longer missed what once was…
Three months after meeting Him my mom met Him face to face.
Four months after that my dad also met his same fate.
Numbness set in-
It covered my soul like a blanket in the cold.
I was no longer looking for bliss-
My life had slipped into some endless hole.
But as you may know-
No good story stops unless you say so.
Life’s natural direction is onward
And so forward you must go!
It is written…
“I will give to them Beauty for ashes,
Joy instead of mourning…”
And so I bid this to come true-
“Lord make a beauty from this mess,
Do what you only You can do…”
So now I am standing here for you to see
That in the midst of the direst
It is Him that will be.
For no winter last forever-
It just will take enduring for the spring.
For I am nobody special,
I just trusted Him to be
What no one else can be found for,
What only He can be.
And for anyone who is there,
I promise you too
That what He did for me,
He can and most certainly will do for you!
So instead of wanting,
Just ask and see-
Is there beauty waiting behind the ash,
Is there more to life than what seems to be?
