The Orange Beanbag

When I was younger, I had a dream: to own a giant beanbag chair from a swanky store at the Mall of America called Dry Ice. Naturally, every time we went to the mall, I begged my parents to let me stop in the store. The shelves were lined with knick-knacks that would cause any pre-teens’ heart to pitter-patter. Tables held overly decorated journals and pens and things you couldn’t possibly need. Walls displayed beaded door curtains that any child in the early 2000s hates to admit they loved. & right smack dab in the middle of the store, were two oversized beanbag chairs. Right there! Begging to be tested.

Holy SMOKES. I can’t describe to you the level of desire my preteen heart felt! I needed that chair. Not being able to understand my parents’ hesitation at dropping $200 on a beanbag chair, I subtly began dropping hints about my secret wish (read: I begged my parents incessantly).

“But Mom, I need to have that beanbag. I can get it in orange!” (Now’s a good time to tell you that in a time where everyone was already pretty awkward, I went above and beyond, by forming two obsessions: the color orange and koalas. I’d like to say I’ve grown out of being “that awkward girl”… but we all know it isn’t the case. However, I have since stopped sending my allowance money to Australia to “sponsor a koala”…)

“Dad, just think, my friends will love it, Greg’s friends can maybe use it…” (At a young age I knew this truth: Never trust high school boys. Never.)

Alas, my parents, being the reasonable, levelheaded consumers they are, would not cave. If I wanted that beanbag so badly, they said, I would just have to come up with the money to pay for it myself! Pft! My 5^th grade heart was crushed, yet determined.

I decided, in order to get my heart’s one true desire, in order to step from childhood to adulthood, I would sell all my childish things at a garage sale.

You know what? To make a long story short, I did.

I watched young girls carry off my Barbie dolls, my Polly Pockets, the clothes I had outgrown. I got rid of the things I would no longer need once I had my beanbag. I sat for days in my garage, smiling and mingling, while strangers meandered around and decided to take pieces of my childhood as their own. I was so certain I was ready to move beyond all these things until I watched someone else look at my toys with a glimmer of excitement in their eyes. My little heart broke with every transaction as I said goodbye to my childish ways.

& I might have accidentally bought a typewriter that a family friend brought to sell, but I have no regrets.

At the end of it all, I had more than enough money to buy my beanbag chair. I think my parents were probably proud of me. I think they also realized (with slight horror) at that point my relentlessness when it came to getting what I wanted (although they may have also realized this one of the 5 times I convinced them to let me get a pet hamster). I’m the youngest child; it is what it is.

The thing is, when you’re 11 years old, $200 is a lot of money. In my mind it still is, but I had never even thought about all the Barbies someone could buy with $200 until I held the money in my hands. By that time, I think my obsession with the giant beanbag chair was already fading, but I had put on this garage sale to get my beanbag, so get that giant orange beanbag I did.

I don’t remember walking into the store and finally buying the beanbag. I don’t remember how it got into our house. I don’t remember whether or not my parents ever admitted how cool it was.

I do remember the disappointment that mine was not as comfy as the one at the store. Something about it needing to be “broken in”. (Side note: breaking it in is not as fun as you might think!) I remember never choosing the beanbag over the couch at sleepovers. & I remember when my parents moved a few years ago, how easy it was to say, “Sure, get rid of that ugly, orange beanbag.” (Although, post-grad, I think it would be really sweet to have again… I digress)

In hindsight, that beanbag probably wasn’t worth the hours I spent coveting it in the mall. It probably wasn’t worth arguing with my parents over. Likely, I could have spent that money on a much worthier cause.

But sometimes, we get exactly what we want, just to realize it isn’t what we expected.

It has taken me, & is still taking me, a long time to realize, that sometimes, God not giving us what we want, not following our timeline for our lives, is more of a blessing than a curse.

I’ve been the girl who got the beanbag, and ended up regretting it.

I’ve been the girl who never got what I wanted: that job, that relationship, that car, a chinchilla. & Thankfully, I’ve been the girl that God explained some of these things to. If I had gotten that job, I would never have gone to Africa. If I had gotten that guy, just forget it Emily, you don’t want that guy! & Let’s be clear here, no child really needs a pet chinchilla. I think I’ve accepted that now.

I’ve been the girl who had to wait a long time for something I really wanted. Africa is my biggest example of this.

But most often, I have been the girl who doesn’t get what she wants and has no idea why. I’ve been the girl who has fought with God, I’ve been the girl who has been angry at God. I’ve been the girl who has tried to make myself God, who has tried to control every piece of my life.

& Thankfully, God keeps whispering to me, “My child, I’ve got something even better.”

How great is it to have a Savior who looks at a stubborn, angry, resentful heart like mine, and speaks with tenderness, love, and hope.

I’m not saying I’ll never have another orange beanbag in my life, because as I’ve said before, I am stubborn as can be.

But today, I am thankful for the beanbags in my life that God never let me have, & I am choosing to trust that He’s got something even better.

One Starry Night

Tonight is the perfect night to sit on a balcony. The crisp air of early autumn brings the promise of winter mixed with the remembrance of summer. It is a night that begs for candles to light and blankets wrapped tight.

And tonight as I sit in this state, my eyes are drawn to the few, scattered stars that dance high above my head. There are few nights when my gaze doesn’t find its way upward, searching for a show.

I am reminded, as I often am, of Lesotho. Of nights when I would stand outside my family’s outhouse and look straight ahead to be blinded by stars. I bring up Africa a lot, but honestly, imagine not having to tilt back your head to see the stars. Imagine the most stars you have ever seen, unpolluted by city lights, and multiply it by 10. Thus were the stars in the Lesotho.

I am reminded too, of nights in Mozambique, when God awed me with shooting stars. My entire life had been spent searching for shooting stars, and the Lord did not disappoint me in Mozambique.

Tonight, I selfishly find myself wishing the stars could peek through the city lights, and paint me a picture.

But tonight, I am in Waunakee, WI. Even miles away from Madison, many of the stars are stunted by the constant lights of our developed world.

But how foolish would I be to not notice the ones that shine anyway.

How foolish would I be to not realize, that regardless of light pollution, I see hundreds of stars from my balcony.

How foolish would I be to ignore the fact that even though I can’t see the billions upon billions of stars, they still shine somewhere out there in the vast expanse.

& Tonight, I remember that regardless of where I am, day in and day out, these stars continue to shine and point back to their creator.

The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.

[Psalm 19: 1-4]

Regardless of time & season, they cry out and proclaim the work of the Lord.

Tonight I so wish I could be the same.

But some nights, it feels like clouds, and city lights, and tree branches, and sheer distance get in the way.

Some nights, I am disheartened by the darkness around me.

Some nights, I can’t see my own light.

Some nights, I look up and am tricked by the dark sky. I am foolish, blinded my own perspective. But behind that cover of darkness, behind the illusion of a lightless sky, is a brilliant galaxy displaying billions of stars. Day after day, night after night, their light bursts and without a single word they declare the holiness of our God.

And on nights like tonight, there are stars who despite city lights, and clouds, and branches, shine through, and dance above Waunakee, WI.

And these are the nights that I cannot help but join in their praise.

Holy! Holy! Holy!

“Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.” [Daniel 12:3]

“For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.” [2 Corinthians 4:6]

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD rises upon you.” [Isaiah 60:1]

Keep shining, little lights.

In light of my most recent post, here’s a piece from one of my most recent favorite reads:

Somewhere in each of us, I believe there’s a desire for a place like Tom Sawyer Island, a place where the stuff of imagination, whimsy, and wonder are easier to live out–not just think about or put off until “next time.” This is a weighty thing to think about on my island, but I often consider what I’m tempted to call the greatest lie of all time. And that lie can be bound up in two words: someone else. On Tom Sawyer Island, I reflect on God, who didn’t choose someone else to express His creative presence to the world, who didn’t tap the rock star or the popular kid to get things done. He chose you and me. We are the means, the method, the object, and the delivery vehicles. God can use anyone, for sure. If you can shred on a Fender or won “Best Personality,” you’re not disqualified—it just doesn’t make you more qualified. You see, God usually chooses ordinary people like us to get things done.

As I sit on my island, it becomes clear that we need to stop plotting the course and instead just land the plane on our plans to make a difference by getting to the “do” part of faith. That’s because love is never stationary. In the end, love doesn’t just keep thinking about it or keep planning for it. Simply put: love does.

[Bob Goff, Love Does]

Thankful to be reminded today that God calls me, and He calls you, and He calls us to do.

If you want to be fired up about the whimsy and wonder of life, I highly recommend Love Does.

An Awful Messenger

Sometimes, I reckon God must be an outright fool for relying on people to be His advocates & to spread the Gospel.

…Can I say that?

I mean, in a way, I get it. People relate to other people. People understand living life in brokenness. But really, most days, I, in no way, feel adequate to be the messenger.

Because the Gospel is the greatest thing someone could ever hear and I am the worst person to tell the story.

Because I can say that in pursuit of Christ, my life looks radically different.

I can tell my friends that following Christ is worth denying the world.

I can proclaim, joy, peace, & hope in a relationship with the Lord.

& some days, maybe even many days, I hope the way I act reflects it.

But more days than I am proud of, my heart looks ugly, my attitude snarky, and my life so unworthy of proclaiming a message so glorious.

While I sit here knowing I live in the aftermath of Christ taking the burden of all my wrongdoings, knowing that my life is covered by grace, and knowing the Lord is working in my life, I cannot help but feeling that sometimes I am the one giving Christians a bad name.

I can’t help but think while I know I should be a friend of outcasts, and sometimes I even think I live that way, there have been multiple times I have seen someone falling to pieces on the outskirts, desperate for a friend, and have turned the other way.

I can’t help but think that if the result of being filled by the Spirit of the Lord is that my life shows love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, I know that on my best day, my life maybe reflects two of those things.

I can’t help but think that while I know living for Christ is worth it, and I can think of intense moments in my life where I have so clearly felt His presence, I can also think of the times when there has been the opportunity to share who Christ is in my life and I have responded dismissively with timidity.

I can’t help but think that I often look a lot less like Christ than I want to. That I often can’t love as much as I wish I could. That often, I run to my comfort zone. That my mind fills with judgment, my heart floods with anger, my words tear down, and my hands hesitate to serve.

& if I’m thinking of this from a marketing standpoint, and I’m looking at who would be the best person to sell this message, 99.9% of the time, I would not nominate myself.

Most of the time, I really, really think, that it is all about me.

& my self-seeking, self-righteous, self-serving self has a really hard time remembering that it is not.

“Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” -2 Corinthians 3:5-6

If I allow the Lord to actually work in my life, if I just get out of the way and let God move through me, I’m competent in sharing this message of grace, of hope, and of love. Because even though I fall on the wrong side of worthy daily, I know the Lord can still use me.

I don’t really know how I want this post to end.

I’m sorry for the times I haven’t reflected Christ. I’m sorry if in doing that I have ever hurt you, given you reason to doubt, or have made Christ look like a fool.

I know I’m the world’s worst messenger. I pray that despite me, you look past the messenger and give ear to the message.