I recently had a conversation with somebody in which I doubted what they were saying was true. I hate those conversations, but years ago I promised myself that if the person was a friend, or somebody I worked with, I wouldn’t just walk away. Instead, I decided to say something. I kept it light, but I said enough that I wouldn’t go to bed that night without some clarity. The response I received was a long, passionate monologue about how the person had never told a lie in their life. This person kept using the word integrity.
Being sick hasn’t taught me anything, honestly. It hasn’t taught me anything other than I don’t like being sick. But I did learn something in the hospital. It all happened that Sunday, when our normal clinic was closed. We had to go to the ER at another place in Portland. Sunday is their busy day, so we were sitting in the lobby with a bunch of other pet owners and sick pets. It was all the basic stuff, itchy skin or throwing up. Nothing to worry about. I was feeling awful so I jumped up on the bench and laid all over Don’s lap.
When I was living in Portland, I decided to go through training to climb Mt. Hood. On one particular day, I was fifty or so flights of stairs into my workout. With only eight weeks of training left, I was having my doubts. I’d not lost the weight I thought I’d lose, to be honest. That happened when I trained to ride my bike across the country, too, and everything turned out fine. And yet I worried.
Last week, two white flags mysteriously appeared on the Brooklyn Bridge. NYC police and counter-terrorism units were disturbed by the “breach of security.” While this is true from their perspective, I like to think something more beautiful happened. I think whoever put up those white flags had a brilliant idea: Create a clear vision of peace.
I have this bad habit. I like to plan out my day and keep a running mental list of all of the things I’m going to do. Then when I am doing task one, I start to think about task two. When I start task two, my mind wanders to task three. And so on […]
Jesus said “I do not receive glory from people. I know that you do not have the love of God within you.” If there was ever a statement that invited trust, it’s this one. In a sense, Jesus is saying “I don’t need you to affirm me. I’m not looking to you for any kind of completion. Your association or disassociation do not affect me.” And from there He tells the truth about our condition, and the more wonderful truth about His grace and our own forgotten worth.
Last week I made the trek to visit my niece and nephews in Oregon. Piper, the oldest, turned 5 years old not too long ago and much like I was at her age, she’s fearless. One afternoon, we were playing the infamous airplane game, in which I lay on my back and balance Piper on my feet while she “flies.” I was holding onto her hands to keep her from losing balance and falling when she looked down at me and said, “Aunt Cadence, don’t hold my hand! I like scary things.”
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