apples for sale

Late for his flight, the businessman ran through the airport with his briefcase in one hand and his trench coat folded over his other arm. In his haste, he barely noticed the boy leaning against the wall. The blind boy held a tray of apples. In one corner of the tray was a tin cup filled with change. The boy pleasantly called out, "Apples for sale!" The man heard him and glanced in the boy's direction, but never slowed his pace. He had to catch that flight to make it to his deal-breaking business meeting. As he ran passed the boy, his trench coat knocked the corner of the tray and it fell right out of the boy's hands. The apples bounced and rolled through the corridor; the change made a loud ruckus as it spread out all over the floor; the tin cup landed with a loud thud. The tray fell upside down a few yards away.

The businessman registered what happened and glanced back to see the blind boy getting down on his hands and knees to find his belongings. But he could only think of how detrimental it would be to his company if he missed his flight, so he kept running toward the gate.

The boy felt his way over to his tray and turned it upright. He scoured the floor for his cup and coins and apples. The man looked over his shoulder and the scene unfolding before him finally registered with his heart. He stopped dead in his tracks and tuned around. He walked briskly back to the child.

"I am so sorry," he said as he helped round up the apples. "I'm sorry that I thought what I needed to do today was more important than you are. I'm sorry for knocking over your tray in my rush and for not stopping right away to help you." He put all the coins back into the tin cup and loaded everything back onto the tray. He helped the boy stand upright and placed the heavy tray in his hands.

He dug in his wallet and pulled out some cash. "I'm putting $100 in your cup. I really am sorry for thinking you weren't as valuable as I am. Can you ever forgive me?"

The boy, though blind, looked directly into the man's eyes and asked, "Are you the Jesus I always hear about?"

no matter how beautiful

Recently someone told me I seemed European. When my face scrunched up into a question mark, he explained:

"You're so confident and self-assured. You're not insecure like most American women seem to be."

I about choked on my breadstick. I wanted to look over my shoulder and find the woman he was really talking to, because there's no way that description fits me. Definitely the wrong size. Send it back for a refund!

I laughed and said, "Really?!" My voice went up about 6 octaves at the end of that one word. (I was dripping with European self-assuredness!)

While I still think what he said was a bit far-fetched---he's not called Jack the Wack for nothin'---I also know that others see in me things I don't see in myself. Even more, I know that God sees in me so much more than I see in myself.

I want eyes to see those things.

Not so I can pat myself on the back. Or walk with my chest out. (Although I could definitely use better posture.) Or even so I can feel better about myself.

I want eyes to see those things because He put them in me. And to ignore them, or worse, never even uncover them, would be a slap in His face.

Today I am praying, "Lord, help me to realize the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful it is."

four-minute friday: convalescing

Go. I wore a bra for the first time in a week.

Let me back up a bit. This morning, I made myself get out of bed and not only shower, but also shave.  (I swear, my body grows an ungodly amount of hair in seven days!) I put on makeup and my glasses (although my eyes were seeing just fine all week without 'em), and did my hair. By "did my hair", of course all I really mean is I pulled my bangs back in a clip and tousled the rest with my hands.

I put on real clothing (I've been rocking the PJ Queen look), slipped my feet into flip flops, grabbed my purse, and exited my bedroom. And then the house. (GASP!)

I had a follow-up appointment with the surgeon, and figured I'd do some errands while I was "out that way".

Doctor's office. Check. UPS. Check. CVS to get more drugs. Check. (Yesssssss!) Pizzeria. Check. Target. Check, check, check. Sporting goods store. Check. Outlet mall. Check. Chinese restaurant for take-out. Check.

I arrived back at home in serious pain, just about unable to speak, and utterly exhausted. My butt is finally planted back on my bed, where I plan to remain for the rest of the night. Just as soon as I take my bra off and get back into pajamas.

Done.

four-minute friday: fair trade

Go. Well, it's August 8th: D-Day. In a few hours, I'll be on my way to meet up with my Hombre in Washington DC. We're there until Wednesday, and then we fly back to New York together. By the way, we're staying in a hotel for the first few nights! There will be no saucy details following our rendezvous; your imaginations can tell you all you need to know.

I'm leaving my laptop behind. It's going to miss me immensely, I know. I've already started some counseling sessions with it; we're really tackling separation anxiety right now. Time apart can be healthy, so I really feel like this next week is going to be a good time of growth for ol' lappy.

There will still be action on my blog while I'm gone; maybe Mandy and Cathi will even blog-sit for me. So don't disappoint me with a lack of comment conversations. Half the fun of coming home will be reading what evereybody's written. (Only half? Who am I kidding?!)

I'll miss you guys this week, but I'll have my man (who I've missed for 11 weeks!) so it's a fair trade. I can't wait to see his gorgeous eyes.

On that note, I'm off to finish packing. 

Don't do anything I wouldn't do!

Done.

pack it up

Abraham (of Old Testament fame) has been hailed the father of faith because of his sheer obedience to God on countless occasions. One of my favorite examples is when God tells him to "Leave your country, your people, and your father's household, and go to the land I will show you." Abraham responded with eyes of faith and feet of obedience: He "left, as the Lord had told him." Without even knowing where God was sending him, he packed up all his belongings and convinced his wife that they were moving out. (Imagine that conversation?!)

At some point in the journey, God's directions got a little clearer. (Forward motion brings clarity of vision.) "They set out for the land of Canaan." As he followed faithfully, Abraham got more details on where he was headed.

Let's back up a little bit. Just before this story unfolds, another story wraps up. Abraham's dad, Terah, embarked on a similar journey years before. "Terah took his son... his grandson...and his daughter-in-law, and together they set out... to go to Canaan."

God sent Terah to Canaan; Terah heard and obeyed. At least initially. He set out to go to Canaan, but he never made it. "When they came to Haran, they settled there." Terah gave up too soon. I'm sure the road was long and hard, the desert sun scorching hot, and the distance just too great. So he opted to settle in Haran instead of pushing on. Maybe Terah planned to just rest for a while. I can almost hear him: "Let's regroup, gather some new supplies, and then we'll head back out." But life in Haran was comfortable; it was too hard to leave. "Terah...died in Haran."

When we settle, we stagnate.

Knowing all this, I read God's command to Abraham a little differently. "Leave your... father's household, and go to the land I will show you." God was asking him---challenging him---to leave behind his father's way of thinking. To intentionally leave his comfortable place of "settlement" and walk through the difficult desert. Abraham left behind more than his country and his father's household; he left behind his settlement mentality.

"Abram was seventy-five years old when he set out from Haran. He took his wife... his nephew... all the possessions they had accumulated... and they set out for the land of Canaan, and they arrived there."

He set out for Canaan. And he arrived there.

I'm looking in my heart to find all the places I've set up camp. I need to shake the dust off my feet and keep moving forward, away from the places I know I've settled for less than what God has called me to.

It's moving day.