lessons from email

Another online account. Another password. Another moment to decide whether or not to use the same 6-8 letters/symbols/numbers that my other 30 online accounts hold, even the Hotmail that I would delete if I were brave enough. I'm not even sure when I created that account. It's so last decade, before I learned that email accounts shouldn't be treated like underwear but more like a GenX teenage romance--pick one; go steady. And eventually you break up. It's fine because it wasn't meant to be more than summer love anyway. It's a miracle you made it through 2 semesters, choir tour and the talent show. Your duet was stunning, or at least as good as it gets for a sophomore. By graduation, you talk every now and then. Cordial. No Friday-sweatpants-wearing, cool-girl drama. But you haven't tossed out his notes.


And I haven't sifted through all my account options to figure out where that "deactivate account" button lies. Experience confirms that the chances of essential email dropping into that inbox are ridiculously slim. Hotmail, like AOL, makes savvy potential employers shake their heads. "Who does this?"


I do. I'm a horder. But certainly not as bad as the messy house people who show up on reality TV. I hold on to bigger things. Ideas. Ridiculous ones. Like surely I'll fall deeply in love with my job every day, surely the average citizen will say smart political things all the time, and of course Hotmail is worth keeping.


Miracle, where art thou?


The best item in my collection, though? You ready for this? It's the notion that people will be good even on their worst days. I know. Completely unrealistic. Utterly idealistic. Downright ridiculous. I mean, who am I to suppose that even on Mondays, after 1 cup of leisurely bliss, 2 oz of religious patronage and a dash of road rage the worst of us would give the world a wink and a smile? But I do. And Monday after Monday proves disappointing. If you've ever looked for the "keep hope alive" poster child, look no more. She lives in my head and expects you to come inside, make yourself at home. It's cozy here just inside the front door that thinks too hard and is probably to blame for massive stress levels. Reason can take a hike.


Bear with me another 20 seconds. It's not easy to convince others of my 30-year delusion. After all, I also still have yahoo.

tears & love

i have the best husband. (okay, yours may be great too...)


yesterday was a rough one, one that brought to the surface a load of my frustrations and i overflowed. he was there. holding me. reassuring me. and then he said, "can i pray for you?"


and this is love...

sunsets are good for your health

very rarely do i leave work bright eyed and bushy tailed. today was no exception. and with so much time spent in my head (from just a few minutes after waking up), processing questions and frustrations, thinking through possibly needed rebuttals, and all other manner of madness that i've done for so much of my life, by the time i drive home, my mind's about to explode. it's great.

well today was exceptional in a very unexpected way, a very God kind of way. as i drove west on I-40, i spotted the last few minutes of sunset. now i've seen the sun set a lot and i've marveled at the sunset a lot but today was exceptional. i had the sort of experience that makes Romans 1:20 so real.

as soon as i noticed the sunset, God said to me, "Okay, you see that sunset? You need to let the sun set on all your frustrations, all your fatigue, all your anger, all your unresolved interpersonal drama, etc." and just like that, i had peace AND a smile. talk about radical change! that's something only God can do.

and just as i crossed the light at the last major intersection before home, God said, "You've only got a few more moments of sunset so let it all go!" and i packed up the remaining junk and threw it out the window. it's the sort of liter cities welcome--if more people did it, there'd be fewer accidents, i promise you!