Slow Down, You Move Too Fast . . .

Words of wisdom from pastor Mark Buchanan, when asked what was his most profound regret in life:

"Being in a hurry. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me. I cannot think of a single advantage I've ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing... Through all that haste I thought I was making up time. It turns out I was throwing it away."

- as quoted by A. Voskamp in her challenging book, One Thousand Gifts.

Zaneism #49872076: Absent Teacher

Zane: We had a Step-Teacher in class.

Me: You had a what?

Zane: A Step-Teacher. Mrs. Strauss wasn't there.

Me: Ohhhh. Zane, I think you mean a SUBSTITUTE Teacher.

Zane: Right.

New Directions

The joke's on you, this is not a reference to the show choir on Glee. Made you look.

Sorry. Wrong blog. Go back to Google and search again for information on the show. Or, stop here, and read about real life. No, I'm not going to sing about it.

Two weeks ago, I conquered a fear giant and contacted a local organization, the Hero Program, to ask how I could volunteer. Specifically with writing.

Turns out that the organization needed someone to help with grant writing.

I don't know anything about grant writing.

Time to learn.

Directly from that new venture, I landed a press release gig for the new, and additively delicious, Waffles INCaffeinated. Thank you, kindly!

Then, a dear friend's husband landed in the ICU.

Enter Japan. Memories of knowing someone who perished in the 2004 tsunami cautioned me from watching too much footage - just need to donate whatever I can.

Add Stage 4 lung cancer taking up residence in a friend's uncle.

And the death of another dear friend's aunt.

Really?

But, of course.

THIS IS LIFE.

So, since this is life, the real question is, "How do I respond?"

1.  I learn how to write grants so the that the dear children living with terminal illnesses and their families can feel some financial relief. What I dig about the Hero Program is that gifts are tangible. Material. Cars, groceries, gas, housecleaning, a laptop so that the mother of an ill child can work at home, Christmas gifts. They have a real life need and we want to find it for them.

2. I work my butt off to get people from near and far into this five-star waffle joint. And pray that Chef Tahj Merriman really will create the falafel waffle. If only for me.

3. I pack an overnight bag for my girlfriend, insure her daughter will have fun after school while feeding her any snack she wants as my children gawk, INVEST a precious Saturday in the ICU waiting room with her and her amazing friends during her husband's surgery, and do my very best to BE.

4. I gather friends to join me at a charity spaghetti dinner after church, the proceeds of which will go to the family where a 44 year old Dad is battling evil.

5. I plan to cook up some Italian food this week to help comfort my favorite Puerto Rican's.

There is way too much "I" in this post.

It is not my intention to make myself the focus of this post.

If anything, I am learning, from all of this, that there is way too much "I" in my life. God is gently, albeit, clearly and precisely, showing me where He needs me to be.

We began a new series on discipleship at church this morning.

How fitting.

How then shall we live?

For ourselves?

Not in this life.

Which is the ONLY real life we will experience here on Earth.

I choose to be involved.

Flashback: Places, please!

1992.

A year out of college and barely a year married, I decided to dive back into the theater world while my husband holed himself up to study a year of Greek through a 6 week course affectionately known as "Suicide Greek" by all the Seminarians who had gone before him.

"Hello Dolly" was my escape from the boring evenings at home sitting alone while George was locked in his closet of an office.

Fast forward to 2011.

How interesting is it that one of the characters in Dolly was looking for a "life outside of Yonkers?" For here I am 19 years later about to get "Lost in Yonkers".

Last night, George and I entered a room full of strangers.

Thankfully, I quickly found the owner's of my joint, and then the artistic director of the Bobcat Players. I was then reintroduced to the woman who read the mother (and was cast in the role) to my Bella during my "Lost in Yonkers" audition back in January. We sat getting to know each other for the majority the evening as I stole glances at others around the room who very well could have been the same folks from my Highland Park Theater days.

The gathering had a familiar feel not unlike the ones we enjoyed so many years earlier when we'd land at Bennigans after my rehearsals every Thursday evening. Even George would take a break from crackin' the books to join me and the cast for some after-rehearsal dining. Simply put, those evenings were just downright fun - a ton of laughing - with incredibly wonderful people. I will ALWAYS carry a fondness about those days.

Last evening, in the course of 2 hours, George must have commented at least three times how this Happy Hour felt like those "old days" and how much he was enjoying watching me rediscover this enormous part of myself that had been purposely placed on a shelf for a number of years. Purposely placed. Not begrudgingly placed. There's a difference.

When one moves, special items are carefully packed away. While in the process of unpacking, it is not uncommon to leave several boxes untouched. For months. Upon reopening them, the special item takes on an entirely new quality - the rediscovery of that dear object serves to increase it's beauty.

At times, the course of one's life makes it's necessary to pack up something precious and set it aside. Not in the "giveaway" or "trash" pile. But rather, the "later" pile.

I unpacked my acting bug last night.

And the second perk of the evening?

Meeting a woman who had moved to Beaver from CHICAGO only 6 months ago. Through her struggle to adapt to this new environment, she discovered a few articles I'd written in The Bridge under the title "New Girl in Town".

"Thanks for writing those. They really helped. I figured if you could get used to being here, I could, also. I found them comforting."

Stories drive relationships, don't they?

Stories on stage.

Stories off stage.

Life is one big story and you're cast in it.

Places!

Thanks, Mom. (In So Many Words)

We're currently 3/4 of the way through the 5th and final book of Gregor: The Underland Chronicles by Suzanne Collins (of the Hunger Games trilogy fame).

I can't even remember when we started this series. Summer? What I do know is that the kids have been hooked from day one.

So tonight, as we settled in to read, Harper asks,

"Mom, is this a series you would choose to read on your own?"

"What do you mean? I did choose it."

"No. Would you read it without us? Like, alone."

"Ohhh. I get it. Yes, it's something I would read by myself."

"But, well, you chose to share it . . . you know, read it to us, like, together . . . instead of well, keeping it to yourself, like, you know-"

"Harper, are you trying to say thank-you?"

"Yes."

"You're welcome. This is my favorite activity of the day. Reading to you both."

And THAT is why I continue to read aloud to my 10 year old.

Addict

I know.

This post could be titled "duh". Move along. Nothing to see here.

We all know I'm a coffee addict.

My husband is aware of it.

My kids see my daily need for coffee.

My blog is my online coffee shop where I chat about everything.

I'm not hiding anything.

But, why the post about it?

Cause, all joking aside, I really am addicted to coffee. Going on 20 years now. It was post-college when I truly joined the coffee craze and shops starting springing up like weeds. Really tasty weeds.

Just as a smoker craves to hold a cigarette between their fingers, I too crave the warmth on my hands that only comes from cradling a steaming cup of comfort. Sometimes I don't even want to drink it, but rather, hold it, for my addiction is also a tactile one.

During a morning power outage yesterday I was thankful that George had already fired up the Keurig and passed me my morning glory. For a brief moment I had an internal discussion as to what I would have done if the outage had happened earlier, thus making him unable to power up the machine that brews crutch.

How much do I drink? Really, not much. (And that statement just screams denial. Does it not?)

Three. Maybe, four cups a day - one of them, sadly, decaf. I realize that this doesn't sound like much. Only, coffee is the FIRST thing I think about when I wake in the morning.

No joke.

Honestly, I can NOT quit anytime I want, for I don't want to quit.

Right now, the biggest issue with my java jubilee is that I don't drink enough water. Which comes back to bite me, as I'm currently doing this. Working out hard without proper hydration sucks the life out of me, and not even caffeine can bring it back.

So, here I sit, typing my admission to you.

My name is Joline and I am a javaholic.

Now, enough of this silliness. It's already 10:00 AM and I've not yet had my second cup yet.

Well, don't just sit there. Chop chop.

Are You A Puppet Master?

I read this incredible quote today:

The gift, once given, is no longer yours to control. If you give someone something, do so openly and freely, otherwise, what's the point? If you're not giving joyously, but to control the people around you, it's time to reassess.


It's not as if this idea is a new one to me. But this quote does a great job summing up a belief I've held for years but have been unable to communicate as well. Sure, we've all heard the cliche "no strings attached". Those strings insinuate CONTROL - like a puppet on a string.

When we give, and then treat the givee as a marionette, we've not actually given a gift 'tall. Think about it.

I'm still giving as I shared with you I would. Whether it be tithing, putting change in our Christmas jar, placing aside clothing, shoes, and household goods for Good Will drop-offs, picking up items at the store for friends or running their errands, donating cosmetics and personal products to the women's shelter, etc. I have traded my, "How much cash can I get for this?" for "Who could use this?"

And trust me. I could use the cash!

I've had great examples to guide me. When I look around my house, every room has an item that has been graciously given to me. Without those puppet strings.

So, I do the same.

Lighten the load for someone else when you have the opportunity. Heck, it could be as simple as picking up a loaf of bread for a neighbor.

Simple gifts translate into full hearts.

Trust me. My heart runneth over.