As a child growing up, I looked forward to the time each year when we would break out all the boxes of Christmas decorations. Dad would unload them from the attic while Mom and I opened them to discover what was inside. Each one was like a Christmas gift being unwrapped because of the special treasures tucked within the box.
There’s something unique about Christmas decorations in that they often hold special memories. My dad has a little, red Santa Claus ornament that he’s had on his tree every year since he was a child. One of my mom’s favorite decorations is the porcelain nativity scene that she received as a gift when she and my dad were newly married. It felt like I had received a great honor when I reached an adequate age that my mom let me set out the pieces of the nativity because I knew how very special it was to her.
Of course, decorating the Christmas tree was also a very big deal. In my teenage years, we bought a real tree. The big decision each year was whether or not to get it flocked with artificial, white snow. Typical tradition involved my mom picking out a color palette that we would decorate within, including the tree, ribbons, wrapping paper and ornaments. Usually it was a pairing of red and silver or green and gold, or some other popular combination trending that season. To coordinate with the colors, our Christmas tree would usually have only white lights, but we had lots of them. White lights became the tradition for my family, and it’s what I prefer now as an adult as well.
Unfortunately, my husband grew up with colored lights every year on his tree, and now as we strive to combine the rituals of our past into our own family practices, we just can’t seem to agree on the lights on the tree.
CJ and I have been married for 15 years, this year, and you would think after all this time, we would have figured some sort of compromise. But year after year, the same debate begins, usually around Thanksgiving. The discussion of white lights versus colored lights on the Christmas tree causes more consternation than any other dialogue in our household (followed closely by what temperature to keep the thermostat on in the house.)
CJ thinks that colored lights are more “fun” but I think pretty, twinkling white lights are just as fun! I also think that colored lights take away from the beauty of the ornaments. Whether store-bought or home-made, it’s the ornaments that hold the memories and meaning on the tree.
I posed an informal poll to my Facebook friends to determine their preferences when it comes to the tree and decorations. On the question of preference for a real tree versus an artificial tree, the answers were about 50/50 for each. Those in favor of artificial typically said it was because of less hassle and mess for the fake kind. Those who chose the real tree felt it was worth the trouble of keeping it watered and cleaning up needles, etc. because of time-honored traditions and of course, the amazing real-Christmas-tree smell in the house.
The question about the lights showed a majority preference for white lights! To be precise, about 70% said white lights would be on their tree over about 30% who desire colored lights. I still don’t understand why people think that colored lights are for kids, which is what several of my online friends quipped. White lights can be just as fun for kids too.
One of my favorite answers was from a high-school friend that I went to church with, Dennis Burton, who said white lights were better and that the colored lights looked like the ‘70s. That’s just too funny!
Another Facebook friend, Lisa Berarducci, said that you should use while lights on very tall trees and colored lights on shorter ones.
My brother-in-law, Joe Johnson, sided with CJ, of course, saying white lights are boring.
My favorite response came from Kandee Molaison, who said they have programmable lights on their tree and they can change from colored lights to all white by simply pressing a button. Although, in our household, that would just add one more layer to the discussion.
We’ve tried in the past to rotate every other year —colored lights one year, white lights the next. But each year when Christmas came around, we couldn’t decide (or remember) which lights we had used the year before.
We even tried a couple of years to decorate two Christmas trees in the house — one with white lights, one with multi-colored. But that was just more trouble than it was worth.
There’s just not been an easy solution.
I was dreading the discussion this year. I just didn’t want to have to debate anymore. After all, there is so much more to be considerate of during this wonderful, holiday season. Why dampen the mood by disagreeing over something so small as lights on the tree?
So I just never spoke of it. Thanksgiving came and went this year without the single mention of what colored lights to put on the Christmas tree. Even earlier this week when we went out to purchase our favorite Frazier Fir (at least we both agree on having a real tree in the house) the topic of lights was never broached.
Then something really amazing happened. We brought down the boxes from storage with all our Christmas decorations inside, and lo and behold, all of our strands of colored lights have disappeared! I don’t know what could have happened to them all…
Oh well, I guess Santa came to the Johnson household a little early this year, and he made sure that we had only white lights on our tree. Thank you Santa Claus!
(Published in the Columbian-Progress 12/2/10)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Christmas Card 2010
Merry Moments Christmas Card
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Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Salute to Veterans
In the house I grew up in, there was a coat closet near the back door. Inside that closet hung a worn-out, faded green coat. This coat was not like any other that hung in the closet such as my mother’s fancy, wear-to-church coat or my dad’s favorite brown and white plaid blazer with the black elbow patches. There were also sweaters and rain coats for each of my family in this closet, but this one shabby coat was quite different and quite special.
This coat had “Marable” embroidered above the right chest pocket. (Marable was my last name back then, my maiden name now.) As memory serves, that jacket also had “U.S. Army” on the left chest pocket. I remember as a kid being very fascinated by that coat, as if it had a special aura about it. I would sneak into the closet and put the coat on when no one was looking. The arms of the coat of course were much longer than my own, and the length of the jacket fell way beneath my knees. I would wrap myself up in the coat which still had a lingering musty smell mixed in with faint scents of my dad’s after shave lotion.
Like a magic cape, I felt as if putting on my dad’s army jacket would conjure up memories of the time he served in the military.
Over the years, I have tried to ask my dad many questions about the time he served our country in Vietnam. But like a safe that’s been locked up and the key thrown away, he always manages to avoid the details I’ve tried to finagle out of him. Of course now as an adult, knowing and reading about the atrocities of what happened on that foreign soil, it’s no wonder my dad refuses to relive that piece of history.
My dad, Jerry Marable, enlisted in the Army and was called to duty just a few short months after being married at age 21 (almost five years before I would be born.) He was in Vietnam during the peak of the war in 1968 and 1969 as part of the 43rd Medical Brigade.
It is reported that over 58,000 American soldiers were killed in action during the Vietnam conflict, of which more than 16,000 died in 1968 alone.
The question of why the United States participated in the Vietnam War is still hotly debated, nearly forty years after the conflict ended. It’s much like the ongoing debate as to the necessary presence of our military men and women still fighting today in Afghanistan and Iraq and other Middle Eastern countries.
The one thing I do know is that no matter whether or not you support our leaders’ decisions to go to war, you should definitely support the men and women who risk their lives in service to this country in those wars.
I can’t even begin to imagine how those servicemen from Vietnam felt after never-ending days and months of fighting, seeing their brothers-in-arms die all around them only to come home and be scorned by the people they were representing.
Since the days of Vietnam, there’s a whole new generation of men and women serving in our country’s military. I have two cousins, both sons of my mother’s brother, currently serving in the United States Marine Corps. I have seen these two young men grow up from their birth, and I have always loved them like an older sister. I am so incredibly proud of them and their decision to join our country’s armed forces. They are tough; they are smart and they are incredibly focused. Very different from the two little boys who wore little, white tuxedos in my wedding fifteen years ago. They stood at complete attention on the platform in between me and my maid of honor during the long ceremony never moving or speaking once. To be such wild, rambunctious boys, even then their inner soldier was shining through.
I sleep easy at night knowing there are many other men and women just like Matthew and Christopher serving all over the world to protect our country’s interests.
Those soldiers keep us safe, and for that, we owe them a great debt of respect and gratitude.
As a little girl wrapped up in my daddy’s army coat, I felt sheltered and secure. That coat is so much more than just the armor of a soldier; it is a symbol of the larger conglomerate of men and women who make up our country’s armed forces. That coat may be tattered and pierced. It may be washed out and ragged, but no matter the condition, that coat will always keep you warm.
November 11 is the day we set aside to revere and memorialize those individuals who have served or continue to serve in our country’s military. On this day, let’s honor our soldiers for whom without we would not live in the freedom that we do today.
I challenge you to remember that this nation will only remain the land of the free, as long as we remain the home of the brave.
(Published in the Columbian-Progress 11/11/10)
This coat had “Marable” embroidered above the right chest pocket. (Marable was my last name back then, my maiden name now.) As memory serves, that jacket also had “U.S. Army” on the left chest pocket. I remember as a kid being very fascinated by that coat, as if it had a special aura about it. I would sneak into the closet and put the coat on when no one was looking. The arms of the coat of course were much longer than my own, and the length of the jacket fell way beneath my knees. I would wrap myself up in the coat which still had a lingering musty smell mixed in with faint scents of my dad’s after shave lotion.
Like a magic cape, I felt as if putting on my dad’s army jacket would conjure up memories of the time he served in the military.
Over the years, I have tried to ask my dad many questions about the time he served our country in Vietnam. But like a safe that’s been locked up and the key thrown away, he always manages to avoid the details I’ve tried to finagle out of him. Of course now as an adult, knowing and reading about the atrocities of what happened on that foreign soil, it’s no wonder my dad refuses to relive that piece of history.
My dad, Jerry Marable, enlisted in the Army and was called to duty just a few short months after being married at age 21 (almost five years before I would be born.) He was in Vietnam during the peak of the war in 1968 and 1969 as part of the 43rd Medical Brigade.
It is reported that over 58,000 American soldiers were killed in action during the Vietnam conflict, of which more than 16,000 died in 1968 alone.
The question of why the United States participated in the Vietnam War is still hotly debated, nearly forty years after the conflict ended. It’s much like the ongoing debate as to the necessary presence of our military men and women still fighting today in Afghanistan and Iraq and other Middle Eastern countries.
The one thing I do know is that no matter whether or not you support our leaders’ decisions to go to war, you should definitely support the men and women who risk their lives in service to this country in those wars.
I can’t even begin to imagine how those servicemen from Vietnam felt after never-ending days and months of fighting, seeing their brothers-in-arms die all around them only to come home and be scorned by the people they were representing.
Since the days of Vietnam, there’s a whole new generation of men and women serving in our country’s military. I have two cousins, both sons of my mother’s brother, currently serving in the United States Marine Corps. I have seen these two young men grow up from their birth, and I have always loved them like an older sister. I am so incredibly proud of them and their decision to join our country’s armed forces. They are tough; they are smart and they are incredibly focused. Very different from the two little boys who wore little, white tuxedos in my wedding fifteen years ago. They stood at complete attention on the platform in between me and my maid of honor during the long ceremony never moving or speaking once. To be such wild, rambunctious boys, even then their inner soldier was shining through.
I sleep easy at night knowing there are many other men and women just like Matthew and Christopher serving all over the world to protect our country’s interests.
Those soldiers keep us safe, and for that, we owe them a great debt of respect and gratitude.
As a little girl wrapped up in my daddy’s army coat, I felt sheltered and secure. That coat is so much more than just the armor of a soldier; it is a symbol of the larger conglomerate of men and women who make up our country’s armed forces. That coat may be tattered and pierced. It may be washed out and ragged, but no matter the condition, that coat will always keep you warm.
November 11 is the day we set aside to revere and memorialize those individuals who have served or continue to serve in our country’s military. On this day, let’s honor our soldiers for whom without we would not live in the freedom that we do today.
I challenge you to remember that this nation will only remain the land of the free, as long as we remain the home of the brave.
(Published in the Columbian-Progress 11/11/10)
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Needles in the sky
Like snowflakes on my tongue
and raindrops on my hand,
the pine needles fall to the ground.
They twirl downward to the earth and whirl in the wind
and before you can pick them up
they fall again.
The once green grass is covered with brown.
They came out of nowhere
without a sound.
It's the circle of life
this birth and death of trees and their leaves
like a new baby's breath.
For now we watch in wonder
It's a sign of the new season
Soon they'll be swept away for
a new rhyme and reason.
and raindrops on my hand,
the pine needles fall to the ground.
They twirl downward to the earth and whirl in the wind
and before you can pick them up
they fall again.
The once green grass is covered with brown.
They came out of nowhere
without a sound.
It's the circle of life
this birth and death of trees and their leaves
like a new baby's breath.
For now we watch in wonder
It's a sign of the new season
Soon they'll be swept away for
a new rhyme and reason.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Mickey Mouse Compulsion
I’ve got a problem and, I know, I need help.
Does anyone know where I can attend a Disney World Anonymous class?
It all started about a month ago… but first, a little history will help with the explanation.
My husband, CJ, grew up in South Florida. He started going to Disney World in Orlando as a small child and would go frequently due to his proximity to the location. I’ve heard him talk about Prom Night at Disney World, Senior Night at Disney World and many more special events that nearby residents could attend. He’s probably been 100 times to the various amusement parks and cherishes each memory.
So naturally, after we were married and had children of our own, it was instinctive that we would make regular trips down to Disney for our family vacation.
I think the first time we went after we had kids was in 2005. Our oldest daughter, Zoë, was five years old, and Miá was two at the time. They were really too young that year to do much except enjoy some of the shows and kiddy rides, but it was a great family experience. My parents joined us on that trip, as well as CJ’s mother and brother, and we all stayed in a condo together for the week we were there.
Just as when I was a child growing up and my family would go to Disney World, my mother always had matching t-shirts made for everyone in attendance. Again, in 2005, she did just that for all eight of us. She had gray tank tops with “Family Vacation 2005” airbrushed in pink lettering on them that we all wore while there. (I can’t tell you how many jokes we had over CJ wearing his tank top,which he is definitely not accustomed to wearing. His shirt now hangs in the youth room at First Baptist Church as a perpetual memory of the ridicule he endured.)
In 2007, we planned another trip to Disney for the family. My parents decided to sit this trip out. My dad’s back was still hurting from the 2005 trip when he carried Miá all over the parks because she refused to allow him to put her down. He said (sarcastically) that it was “more fun than one should get to experience” in just two years. CJ’s mom and brother still came for a couple days, and we discovered that year that we could rent a stroller! It made life so much easier!
Also that year prior to going, CJ found a book called the “Unofficial Guide to Disney World” which has all kinds of insider information to help make a Disney World vacation less stressful and more relaxed. We learned the value of staying at a resort inside the property grounds of Disney World including getting picked up at the airport and extra hours before and after the parks’ opening and closing times that only resort customers could attend.
This book also had touring plan strategies that would tell you exactly in what order to see the various attractions to eliminate the most time waiting in line. This was, hands’ down, the best part. We never waited in line more than five minutes for any ride or show, and we were able to visit every “Kingdom” (Magic Kingdom, Animal Kingdom, Epcot and Hollywood Studios/MGM) multiple times in only five days. This is what got me really hooked! We had so much fun that year, but most of all I learned that a little preparation and planning in advance meant a much more pleasant and hassle-free trip.
The internet makes available a wealth of information and resources, so a couple months ago when we officially decided to start planning our trip to Disney World this year, I began my research.
It started with a little competition between CJ and I to see who could find the cheapest airfare tickets. Then it grew to finding the best resort rates. Also, in the past, if you wanted to plan a special meal for your child to share with some of the Disney characters such as Mickey or Cinderella, you had to call about six months in advance and endure a horror of a phone answering system. I would call again and again and wait and wait to try to get a reservation, and, of course, we never planned that far in advance so we were never able to arrange this experience for our children in the past. But now you can make these character dining reservations online! I was able to secure reserved seats at a restaurant in Epcot at the Norway pavilion where all the Disney princesses will attend. Not to mention that my dad has been to Norway and loved the country and the food so he is now also excited to participate in this fun!
The problem is that I’ve been so excited with my successful preparations that I can’t stop. Now I’ve started making reservations for other regular meals during the time we’ll be there. I even usurped my mom’s territory and ordered t-shirts with a picture of Mickey and each person’s name on them for our trip. I’ve also found on ebay.com cheap children’s sunglasses and hats with Disney insignia for our girls to wear (which will save me a lot of money rather than purchasing at Disney World where it will cost almost five times more.) I’ve read all kinds of online reviews of shows and activities. I’ve poured over books and material that tell tips and hints for a fun, family vacation. Then over the weekend, I have to confess, I even developed a color-coded spreadsheet of our schedule for each day we’ll be at Disney World in September.
When I proudly showed the results of my efforts to my co-workers yesterday, they told me it was time for an intervention.
Our family trip to Disney World is now a little less than two months away, and I’ve already got us prepared and packed and ready to go. This is so unlike me and my typical, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants behavior, but I just can’t help myself.
Where’s the fairy godmother when you really need her?
Does anyone know where I can attend a Disney World Anonymous class?
It all started about a month ago… but first, a little history will help with the explanation.
My husband, CJ, grew up in South Florida. He started going to Disney World in Orlando as a small child and would go frequently due to his proximity to the location. I’ve heard him talk about Prom Night at Disney World, Senior Night at Disney World and many more special events that nearby residents could attend. He’s probably been 100 times to the various amusement parks and cherishes each memory.
So naturally, after we were married and had children of our own, it was instinctive that we would make regular trips down to Disney for our family vacation.
I think the first time we went after we had kids was in 2005. Our oldest daughter, Zoë, was five years old, and Miá was two at the time. They were really too young that year to do much except enjoy some of the shows and kiddy rides, but it was a great family experience. My parents joined us on that trip, as well as CJ’s mother and brother, and we all stayed in a condo together for the week we were there.
Just as when I was a child growing up and my family would go to Disney World, my mother always had matching t-shirts made for everyone in attendance. Again, in 2005, she did just that for all eight of us. She had gray tank tops with “Family Vacation 2005” airbrushed in pink lettering on them that we all wore while there. (I can’t tell you how many jokes we had over CJ wearing his tank top,which he is definitely not accustomed to wearing. His shirt now hangs in the youth room at First Baptist Church as a perpetual memory of the ridicule he endured.)
In 2007, we planned another trip to Disney for the family. My parents decided to sit this trip out. My dad’s back was still hurting from the 2005 trip when he carried Miá all over the parks because she refused to allow him to put her down. He said (sarcastically) that it was “more fun than one should get to experience” in just two years. CJ’s mom and brother still came for a couple days, and we discovered that year that we could rent a stroller! It made life so much easier!
Also that year prior to going, CJ found a book called the “Unofficial Guide to Disney World” which has all kinds of insider information to help make a Disney World vacation less stressful and more relaxed. We learned the value of staying at a resort inside the property grounds of Disney World including getting picked up at the airport and extra hours before and after the parks’ opening and closing times that only resort customers could attend.
This book also had touring plan strategies that would tell you exactly in what order to see the various attractions to eliminate the most time waiting in line. This was, hands’ down, the best part. We never waited in line more than five minutes for any ride or show, and we were able to visit every “Kingdom” (Magic Kingdom, Animal Kingdom, Epcot and Hollywood Studios/MGM) multiple times in only five days. This is what got me really hooked! We had so much fun that year, but most of all I learned that a little preparation and planning in advance meant a much more pleasant and hassle-free trip.
The internet makes available a wealth of information and resources, so a couple months ago when we officially decided to start planning our trip to Disney World this year, I began my research.
It started with a little competition between CJ and I to see who could find the cheapest airfare tickets. Then it grew to finding the best resort rates. Also, in the past, if you wanted to plan a special meal for your child to share with some of the Disney characters such as Mickey or Cinderella, you had to call about six months in advance and endure a horror of a phone answering system. I would call again and again and wait and wait to try to get a reservation, and, of course, we never planned that far in advance so we were never able to arrange this experience for our children in the past. But now you can make these character dining reservations online! I was able to secure reserved seats at a restaurant in Epcot at the Norway pavilion where all the Disney princesses will attend. Not to mention that my dad has been to Norway and loved the country and the food so he is now also excited to participate in this fun!
The problem is that I’ve been so excited with my successful preparations that I can’t stop. Now I’ve started making reservations for other regular meals during the time we’ll be there. I even usurped my mom’s territory and ordered t-shirts with a picture of Mickey and each person’s name on them for our trip. I’ve also found on ebay.com cheap children’s sunglasses and hats with Disney insignia for our girls to wear (which will save me a lot of money rather than purchasing at Disney World where it will cost almost five times more.) I’ve read all kinds of online reviews of shows and activities. I’ve poured over books and material that tell tips and hints for a fun, family vacation. Then over the weekend, I have to confess, I even developed a color-coded spreadsheet of our schedule for each day we’ll be at Disney World in September.
When I proudly showed the results of my efforts to my co-workers yesterday, they told me it was time for an intervention.
Our family trip to Disney World is now a little less than two months away, and I’ve already got us prepared and packed and ready to go. This is so unlike me and my typical, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants behavior, but I just can’t help myself.
Where’s the fairy godmother when you really need her?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Don't get "Wrapped Up"
Shoes, purses, watches... the accessories are my thing. Anything colorful or sparkly, it catches my eye.
But let me distinguish, I like those things. I don't LOVE those things.
I'm always excited for a good bargain, cause I just can't see wasting a bunch of money on something that won't last. And just cause it's expensive doesn't mean it will last. But in the end, all these trinkets are wrapping paper. Just cause a box is flashy on the outside, doesn't mean there's anything of value on the inside.
It also works the other way around. Have you ever heard the phrase, "Don't judge a book by its cover?"
The same principle could be applied to church.
If a visitor came to a church service for the first time dressed in fashionable clothes, perfectly coiffed and easily blended in with the rest of crowd, they would likely be greeted and welcomed.
But what if someone came to your church dressed in second-hand clothes? What if they wore jeans to church on Sunday morning?!?! What if their shoes had holes in the sole? Would they be made to feel welcome? I think probably so.
But now the hard questions.... what if they were really different? What if they had tattoos or wore black leather to church? What if they had a mohawk or multi-colored hair? What if they had piercings in their nose or tongue? Would these people be accepted at your church?
You know, Jesus loved the misfits. He was always surrounded by a large crowd of folks who were troubled, diseased, afflicted, sad, poor, unloved, broken and weary. Did he send them away because they were different? NO! He said instead, "Come unto me."
As Christians, aren't we called to be "Little Christs" spreading His love and His message in this world? Maybe we could be really bold and even invite some misfits to church!
Just remember, compared to God's perfection, we're ALL a bunch of misfits. Don't be fooled by the wrapping on the box.
But let me distinguish, I like those things. I don't LOVE those things.
I'm always excited for a good bargain, cause I just can't see wasting a bunch of money on something that won't last. And just cause it's expensive doesn't mean it will last. But in the end, all these trinkets are wrapping paper. Just cause a box is flashy on the outside, doesn't mean there's anything of value on the inside.
It also works the other way around. Have you ever heard the phrase, "Don't judge a book by its cover?"
The same principle could be applied to church.
If a visitor came to a church service for the first time dressed in fashionable clothes, perfectly coiffed and easily blended in with the rest of crowd, they would likely be greeted and welcomed.
But what if someone came to your church dressed in second-hand clothes? What if they wore jeans to church on Sunday morning?!?! What if their shoes had holes in the sole? Would they be made to feel welcome? I think probably so.
But now the hard questions.... what if they were really different? What if they had tattoos or wore black leather to church? What if they had a mohawk or multi-colored hair? What if they had piercings in their nose or tongue? Would these people be accepted at your church?
You know, Jesus loved the misfits. He was always surrounded by a large crowd of folks who were troubled, diseased, afflicted, sad, poor, unloved, broken and weary. Did he send them away because they were different? NO! He said instead, "Come unto me."
As Christians, aren't we called to be "Little Christs" spreading His love and His message in this world? Maybe we could be really bold and even invite some misfits to church!
Just remember, compared to God's perfection, we're ALL a bunch of misfits. Don't be fooled by the wrapping on the box.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Windows to the world
Windows, like doors, separate what's inside from what's outside. The outside is alive... trees, flowers, space. Yet windows allow people to stay within the confines of their shelter and protection while providing a view to the adventure outdoors. It's like being outdoors, without actually being outdoors.
I remember when I was in college. My roommate, Christie, and I lived on the third floor of Vail Hall at Samford. We had a window in our room that overlooked the parking circle at the sidedoor of the residence hall (the one most often used for entrance into the building). Sometimes when we were feeling silly, us two and a few others from our hall would pop popcorn late on Saturday nights, turn off the lights and watch girls being dropped off by their dates - they never knew they were being spied on. We kept count of how many times the boys would make attempts to kiss their girls goodnight, only to be dismissed with a hug or a quick exit.
The window in our room allowed us to venture into the private lives of both friends and complete strangers.
Often, now, when I go running at night, I'll jog by a home that's all lit up on the inside. Through their windows I might see a family eating dinner around the table; sometimes I see people watching tv. Whatever they're doing, they're living their lives inside their home, separated from the outside world and safe within the walls of protection.
Windows symbolize access: outside - in and inside - out.
The same is true in life. We all have walls, yet we also have windows.
We often build walls to protect ourselves from being hurt or being judged. We find protection in our privacy, yet we long for life on the outside. So we put in windows, or little glimpses that allow other people to see who we really are and allow us to feel the sun of happiness shining down.
On days like today, I'm reminded of the power of open windows.
When I lived in Vail Hall back in 1991, there was no air conditioning, and Alabama heat in late August was sweltering. So we would open our window to hopefully draw in the wind, or some form of cool relief.
Through one open window we would sometimes feel a small draft of breeze, but we learned quickly that if we also opened our door on the other side of the room, a powerful thing happened. The air in our room would circulate as if we had a ceiling fan forcing the air.
It's funny, we opened the door to bring the air in, but we found an open door also allowed opportunities for people to come in our room and visit. Through our open door, we made connections with our neighbors.
This morning when I awoke, I opened the sliding glass door off my bedroom to let the cool air in, but it wasn't until this afternoon when I opened my window on the other side of the room and a powerful force of air swept in that I was reminded of those college days.
I was reminded of the power of an open door and an open window.
I encourage you today to open the doors to your heart and the windows to your soul. Like the cleansing of the morning dew or the sweet fragrance of the honeysuckle blooming in the afternoon, you just never know what life-changing force may come blowing in.
I remember when I was in college. My roommate, Christie, and I lived on the third floor of Vail Hall at Samford. We had a window in our room that overlooked the parking circle at the sidedoor of the residence hall (the one most often used for entrance into the building). Sometimes when we were feeling silly, us two and a few others from our hall would pop popcorn late on Saturday nights, turn off the lights and watch girls being dropped off by their dates - they never knew they were being spied on. We kept count of how many times the boys would make attempts to kiss their girls goodnight, only to be dismissed with a hug or a quick exit.
The window in our room allowed us to venture into the private lives of both friends and complete strangers.
Often, now, when I go running at night, I'll jog by a home that's all lit up on the inside. Through their windows I might see a family eating dinner around the table; sometimes I see people watching tv. Whatever they're doing, they're living their lives inside their home, separated from the outside world and safe within the walls of protection.
Windows symbolize access: outside - in and inside - out.
The same is true in life. We all have walls, yet we also have windows.
We often build walls to protect ourselves from being hurt or being judged. We find protection in our privacy, yet we long for life on the outside. So we put in windows, or little glimpses that allow other people to see who we really are and allow us to feel the sun of happiness shining down.
On days like today, I'm reminded of the power of open windows.
When I lived in Vail Hall back in 1991, there was no air conditioning, and Alabama heat in late August was sweltering. So we would open our window to hopefully draw in the wind, or some form of cool relief.
Through one open window we would sometimes feel a small draft of breeze, but we learned quickly that if we also opened our door on the other side of the room, a powerful thing happened. The air in our room would circulate as if we had a ceiling fan forcing the air.
It's funny, we opened the door to bring the air in, but we found an open door also allowed opportunities for people to come in our room and visit. Through our open door, we made connections with our neighbors.
This morning when I awoke, I opened the sliding glass door off my bedroom to let the cool air in, but it wasn't until this afternoon when I opened my window on the other side of the room and a powerful force of air swept in that I was reminded of those college days.
I was reminded of the power of an open door and an open window.
I encourage you today to open the doors to your heart and the windows to your soul. Like the cleansing of the morning dew or the sweet fragrance of the honeysuckle blooming in the afternoon, you just never know what life-changing force may come blowing in.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Have you ever felt lost?
Today as CJ and I were driving on in an interstate, we passed a flashing red sign that said "Detour Ahead."
Never without my trusty cell phone and its included GPS navigational device, I felt no fear or hesitation knowing that my "Hero" would provide me perfect directions to reach my destination despite the detour interference.
I turned on Google maps and clicked on "my location" so that it would calculate where I was and give me point by point turns for where I needed to go. The only problem - it said I was in Texas... when actuality, I was in Tennessee.
"Uh oh," I said.
"What's wrong? CJ responded.
"Uh.... we might be lost." I pronounced the bad news.
Have you ever felt "lost?" Without direction, without purpose or without hope... You know, in life, we think we can depend on our own "devices" to determine our direction. The problem is, those "devices" are not perfect. We travel down life's highway looking for flashing signs to tell us where to go, but they just detour us from reaching where we really want to be.
It is a comfort to know that there is a trusty Hero that wants to show us the way if we'll just open our eyes and our hearts to hear Him. That Hero is the author of our lives and He gives us, not just purpose, but passion!
Remember, our mission is not just found in our destination, it's also in the journey there.
Never without my trusty cell phone and its included GPS navigational device, I felt no fear or hesitation knowing that my "Hero" would provide me perfect directions to reach my destination despite the detour interference.
I turned on Google maps and clicked on "my location" so that it would calculate where I was and give me point by point turns for where I needed to go. The only problem - it said I was in Texas... when actuality, I was in Tennessee.
"Uh oh," I said.
"What's wrong? CJ responded.
"Uh.... we might be lost." I pronounced the bad news.
Have you ever felt "lost?" Without direction, without purpose or without hope... You know, in life, we think we can depend on our own "devices" to determine our direction. The problem is, those "devices" are not perfect. We travel down life's highway looking for flashing signs to tell us where to go, but they just detour us from reaching where we really want to be.
It is a comfort to know that there is a trusty Hero that wants to show us the way if we'll just open our eyes and our hearts to hear Him. That Hero is the author of our lives and He gives us, not just purpose, but passion!
Remember, our mission is not just found in our destination, it's also in the journey there.
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