Charm

Last weekend, I was approaching the front door of a store, and just as I stepped on to the curb, about 20 feet from the door, a man walks out. About 30, nice build, and fairly good looking (from what I remember), I intended to make eye contact with him and smile as any 'Minnesota-nice' manners would teach me to, then proceed into the store.

So he gets about 10 feet out the door, sees me, and turns around, opening the door for me. This wasn't just an about-face to grab the door that was just shutting. The door had shut, he had proceeded toward his car, and I was walking into the store. Yet when he saw me, he turned around and opened the door for me. Now this is either A) because he wanted to add value and respect to me, a woman, or B) he liked my skirt and red heels. Either way, this, my friends, you would not experience in the Midwest. This, I believe, is what they call "southern charm".

And I like it.

Expectations

I'm often disappointed by them.

Creeping up on you like an annoying little brother, expectations are a nag, often make you want to curse, and frequently leave you as frustrated as your brother's prank of putting gum in your hair.

Until now, I've never really looked at my expecations - of myself or others - as dangerous. There was nothing lofty about them, nothing important or worthy of dwelling upon. Yet as I was reminded tonight, having certain expectations can be dangerous, and even disappointing, at times.

I'm sure that you who have ever in your life carried on a conversation with a member of the opposite gender, have been disappointed. (This is not to imply that every cross-gender conversation has/will disappoint, but just a generalization stating a truth between genders: disappointment is ineviatable). You have given trust and had it thrown back at you, given love only to have it abused, and relinquished time only to have it stolen. The same can be said for expectations of and from parents, mentors, managers, friends, and the like. No one will ever live completely up to another's standards of him or herself.

Yet even with all of this on the table, I would have to admit that it's the expectations that I bring upon my OWN shoulders that are the most dangerous. I religiously carry the burden of perfectionism, weighing myself down with the need to impress in every area of my life. I am wearied by the pressure to perform, then only elevate the pressure by insisting that it happen right the first way I try. It is the expecations that I give to myself that end up being the noose around my neck, keeping me from living an overcoming life.

Tonight I realized, with a bit of suggestion from an old friend, that not every expectation that I have for myself is necessarily wrong or inappropriate, but that when I set expectations for myself, that I must think about what I, others, and God expects from the situation... but not in that order. I must be bold enough to think and act realistically, even though sometimes that's a hard pill to swallow.

I realize that I need to be balanced and healthy when I make choices, set goals, and thus develop vision. The vision that I have for myself, my career, my spiritual discpline will never become reality if I consistently set unrealistic expectations for myself. I then dig myself into a hole because I am walking the endless line of perfectionism and judging myself for it. I am then worthless to myself in anything I attempt. And the circle continues...

Yet I find hope in the fact that God expects me to lean on Him; there is never an expectation that I must stand on my own. In some lyrical wise words from my favorite band, truth shines through: "I was not made walk alone... it sharpens me to know we stand as one..."

Spaghetti

There's something about living on your own that makes cooking spaghetti at 10:00 at night simply wonderful. This is the REAL living on your own... not having a wife to cook for you or a dining center right around the corner when you need it, but the raw, scraping together of meals when you don't have much cash, time, or patience.

It at this time that spaghetti - made with non other than mostaccolli noodles - is so altogether redeeming. I'm going to have to put it up on the pedestal of the solves-any-sort-of-problem Velveeta shells and cheese. Yeah... you better believe I just put it up there with shells and cheese.

Spaghetti will just never age.

Mmm.

Deep

Calvin Miller has penned these words which have caught my attention as of late:

'Deep' is not a place we visit in our search for God, it's what happens to us when we find Him."

It's amazing how sometimes just a few words can resonate so far into your soul that it's as if you had written them yourself. Yet that would take a lot of courage and a lot of discipline, neither of which I've been seeing a lot of lately. I find myself consistently disappointed with my spiritual discipline. I want so desperately to be at a place of perpetual communion with Christ, but I always end up distracted with another piece of the to-do list.

I find myself constantly searching for God in places where He is not, yet something in me seems determined to find Him there. Be it love, prosperity, favor with people or the refining of my own character, I return from each place empty handed. I feel so shallow in my pursuit of God - as if I'm only in it half-heartedly. Most days I think this is the truth. Yet when reading the words of Calvin Miller, I find grace. I'm getting what I don't deserve. I throw myself into piles of things that don't matter, searching for something to fill my lonely heart, but then turn around to find that Christ is pursuing me. If only I would have stopped running and come, in the words of the old hymn, "just as I am"...

I find hope in Miller's quote, for in it is the promise of finding God. There's the promise of a changed heart, made new by the touch of the One Miller calls "The Great Enabler". Sometimes I fear that change, because of what it will require of me. A changed heart requires diligence to maintain the change. It's costly to let God in, because you'll lose things that you owned, perhaps things you held close to your heart. Yet when you find God, it's at that place you'll realize that it's not about what you lost, but about what you gained by getting there.

"Deep reveals the reality of God." -CM