Just Five Minutes

I am forever losing five minutes.

When I plan my schedule so I can arrive on-time, usually I run about five minutes late. This doesn't work well when your business depends on meeting people in a timely fashion.

The doctor's office, hair stylist, and teacher don't appreciate it much either.

Too often than I care to admit, I am apologizing for being just a "little late."  I try to blame it on traffic lights, or a last-minute phone call.  But the truth was I didn't plan well.

Where do those pesky five minutes disappear to?
It's such a mystery. Or is it?

You see, I like to think I have most everything I do timed.  I know how long it takes to get ready.  My GPS has my trip planned out to the exact minute, figuring in traffic.  No excuse there.  Was it the last minute search for the keys, the water bottle filled last-minute, the extra time spent to have a good hair day?  Too much time surfing the web, checking one more status?

I guess it's probably a mixture of these and a few other things combined.
It doesn't really matter why I run late.  What matters is that I finally build the five minutes into my schedule.  A five minute buffer.  Well, while we're at it, let's just make it ten.

What would happen if I planned better and arrived five minutes early, not just once, but every time?  What would happen to my stress level?  It's not difficult to imagine. I would be a much nicer driver.  Might even take the time to smile at a stranger along the way and say hi.  I could sing in the car instead of white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Wow, five minutes early to everything!  What a refreshing thought!  Often I blame my stress level on having too much required of me, too much to do and not enough time to do it.

Is the problem really not having enough time?  Or is it spending the time unwisely.

I recently read an article about extremely successful people, a list of fourteen ways they think and act differently than the rest of us.  What jumped out at me was that they measure their days in minutes, not half-hour or hour increments. And they schedule those minutes on a calendar that they guide their day with.  Secondly, they valued time over money.  Money, they said, could be lost and gained back. But time, once gone was lost forever.

Is that it?  Is that the big secret that highly successful people have over us regular folks?  How they view time? How they don't waste it?

Because that's something most of us could attain as well.  If we valued each minute instead of squandering them away in five-minute blocks here and there, how would our lives change?

The Bible teaches us to number our days, because it is the one gift we have that can only be spent once.

Now, where did I put my keys?

What Is Your Learning Style?

I'm an auditory learner.

Years ago while homeschooling our children, we all took a “learning styles” quiz.  The purpose was to help find the way our kids learned naturally so that we could better tailor their studies.  

Very interesting.

While most of my kids learned visually or kinesthetically (by doing), I was the audio learner.

What that means is that I run things around in my mind having conversations with myself and others. When I’m upset, I will rehash the conversation over and over, playing hurtful words on repeat.

The positive thing about being "audio" is that I can listen to podcasts, sermons, or other teachings and absorb them well.  Who needs notes? Notes are things you take and then leave them lying around, never to be seen again. The greatest invention ever for me is the audiobook.  If I hear it, I remember it.

So, if I'm reading anything, there also needs to be COMPLETE SILENCE. Because any conversation, music with lyrics, or even random noise will mess with my reading.

Some fun ways you can test yourself to find your learning style.  When you are trying to remember something, do you look up and to the right? (visual learner). Or do you count things on your fingers. I look straight out or down, as if I’m trying to hear it in my mind.

If you needed to remember a list of five things to buy from the grocery store, would you: visualize where they are in the store, or do you see a mental list in your mind?  I actually make a silent rhyme out of them.  As I find each item in the store, the rhyme or song changes.  Sounds crazy,but believe it or not, it works.

Another way you can decipher your learning style is by finding out what you say when you are frustrated at someone you love.

I say:  “Listen to me!.”  “You’re not listening!”  “Why do I feel like I am constantly repeating myself?”

Pair this learning style up with a husband that is the very opposite.  He VERY kinesthetic.  Needs to keep moving to learn.  Learns by doing.

Sometimes it’s quite comical.

Him:  “Come here, I need to show you something.”

Me”  I don’t need to go there.  Just tell me.”

Him:  Just take a minute and come here.  See these weeds?  Have the boys pull them after school today as their chore.”

Me:  “Couldn’t you have just told me?”

Or another scenario:

Me:  After you are finished with your project, can you please run to the store, pick up milk and eggs and toothpaste, and then pick up C_____ from the gym?

Him:  Blank stare.  “What, what?”

Yes, just another way husbands and wives, men and women are different.

God sure has a sense of humor, doesn’t He?

A Man's Role: To Protect

It's an amazing privilege to have been married to a pastor.  That was my husband's role for the last 31 years until three weeks ago, when we said good-bye to our church of 16 years. On the day he was honored, his last Sunday, we witnessed person after person sharing beautiful stories of how he had touched their lives.  It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.  He and I were a wreck.  It was like being a part of a memorial service without anyone having died.  Both beautiful and heart-wrenching.

We both agreed later we didn't realize our hearts could feel so broken and so full at the same time.

I have watched his pastor's heart grow over the years, until it was sometimes hard to separate the pastor, from the husband, from the father, from the friend. And this has led to some misunderstandings, and sometimes hard feelings.

How do you separate roles when you are pastor to your parents, your wife, your kids, your friends? How do you show them you love them uniquely, yet need to shepherd their souls at the same time?

My kids have taken turns through the years accusing him of not caring.  Through their eyes they could only see that he wanted to be their pastor, not their dad.  Too many rules (in their eyes).  Being asked how their walk with God was going, if they had read their Bibles and prayed.  Why did they have to go to church all the time?

And when you are husband/dad/son/friend and pastor, it makes you prime target for those who love you most to see you at your weakest moments.  Because he was never perfect, and yet never claimed to be, yet he had to stand before us week after week and proclaim from the pulpit a message he had prepared and prayed over for many hours.

And yet, he has truly loved us all with a deep love that isn't always visible at first glance.

Last year we had watched a wonderful video series on marriage, and the speaker talked about differences between husbands and wives, men and women. And even though we had heard many messages on marriage, this one was very eye-opening for us.

He said that a man was very different from a woman in that his deep instinct was to protect his family.  He would give his life for his wife and kids without thinking.

So, I asked my husband if this was true for him.  His reply?  "In a heartbeat."

It's a lot easier to forgive minor trespasses in a husband or dad when you realize that the one who can drive you to the deepest part of crazy in a given minute, would also give his life for you in a heartbeat.


Selah.

The Rest of the Story

I awake while it is yet dark and am now preparing food for all of my maidservants.  Yes, it's a tough life, but such is the load all of us Proverbs 31 women must bare.

And here is the rest of the story.

Oh, I'm up, but it's more or less facing the dirty dishes from last night, when all of us were literally too exhausted to even try.  And I already want to choke a little dog, who couldn't possibly be bothered this morning to face the 95 percent humidity and itchy grass outside to do her business, who left me a little present on my newish family room rug.  It wasn't even the rug by the door, which is somewhat excusable.  And she is now sleeping in my son's bed, all comfy and cozy.  Do I sneak in the room, choke her just a little, shove her nose in the wet spot and shame her all the way to her not as cozy and comfy crate?  Or do I just murmur about whether or not dog choking is ethical in the early morning hours and clean it up.

And then there is the highly emotional subject of coffee.  Do I drink the small pot of coffee that was all I could manage for my maid servants with the remaining coffee grounds, and brave the humidity and itchy grass and trek to the nearest grocery store for more?  Or do I just sip on my day-old, microwaved cup so as to save enough for the hubs?  And do I use the last of the half and half, or suffer through milk in my coffee and share?

These life-altering decisions are already facing me today, and it's not even light out.  Because I really do want to wake a little naughty dog and choke her just a little.  And I really do want the coffee.  And the half and half.  And I really do want to rattle the dishes while I unload and load the dishwasher, because all of the sleeping people in the house could have helped with them last night.

And then I read today's prompt word, "REST."

Darn.

My mental "To-Do" list wants to voraciously argue with that word.  Because who has time for that, really?  And yet, I know that yesterday's crazy, hard day has left us all a little weary.

Even a naughty dog. (So many bugs and lizards needed immediate attention.)
Even tired, sleeping people.
Even me.

So, I sit here, drinking yesterday's coffee, with only half of the remaining half and half in it. And I contemplate how I can do rest today.

Because we all need it.  And my Heavenly Father, not only allows it, He recommends it.

"Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls." (Matthew 11:28-29 NLT)

The Foggy Road

Have you ever had a surge of emotions so profound, your immediate reaction was to break down and cry?  You can’t really describe it to someone at the time.  They want to know if you’re sad, or lonely, or whatever. And you shake your head no, but the words aren’t there yet.  You haven’t had the time to process it enough to give the huge feelings the luxury of words.

That was me, recently.

We had just finished our church business meeting on a Sunday evening, a meeting to elect our new senior pastor, one who would step into the role my husband had held for the past sixteen years.  It was a joyous occasion. He and his family had been with us serving as youth pastors the entire time.  My husband had helped mentor him, and it was our hope that he and his family would step in and take our place leading this amazing group of people in a small town in the heart of Central Florida.  

It was the culmination of a plan we had been talking about, praying about, thinking about for over a year.  Our assignment here was finished, and we knew it was time to pass the torch and run in a new direction.  

Our friend had shared his heart and vision beautifully.  Our people were in full unity.  He had gone into the back room with his wife and five kids to wait while the ballots were cast.  We all checked yes on the small slips of paper, and within minutes the news came that indeed, he had been unanimously elected as our church’s new senior pastor.

Someone opened the door to the back room and they poured out, all grins and smiles, as they were proclaimed the new senior pastor and family for our church.  Everyone stood, applauded, and cheered.

And then I broke.  Deep, unattractive sobs.  And It looked bad.  It looked like I wasn’t part of the cheering section.  It looked like I was not rejoicing with them.

But there was something that no one had caught.  Not even me until that moment.  Because our family had poured out of that same door almost exactly sixteen years before.  We had walked into the same sanctuary and stood on the same platform as they announced us the new pastors.  But our kids weren’t all smiles and grins then.  They were shell-shocked.  My oldest daughter was standing and crying, obviously not tears of joy.  Our kids could not see ahead to the amazing years that were before them in this wonderful place.  All they knew is what they would lose.  Their friends, their beautiful new home, their cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents living nearby. Everything they were leaving was in clear view. All they would gain was still hidden.

And I think that’s where I am right now. Standing on an unfamiliar platform.  People are cheering for us, excited for our new venture.  And all I can see are the friends and the family and the home we are saying good-bye to. Yet the One who has brilliantly led us here is still the One who will lead us on the next leg of our journey.

Why wouldn’t He?  

Looking back, the road has not been smooth and straight.  There have been so many twists and turns, hardships, and hurts.  But there have been many, many hilltops as well.  These friends and loved ones had travelled the road with us, the same road that brought us to where we are today.  But the road parts now, and we will travel in one direction, and they another.  

The One who will travel with us the next leg of our journey gave me a little sign that night as we were gathered together praying for this precious new pastor family.  I had just turned on my phone, and sure enough, on cue, in the middle of the prayer it went off.  I grabbed it to quickly turn off the sound, and looked down.

It was my daughter calling.  The one who lived in the same town we were moving to in a few days.  It was a little sign, just for me.  He was still with us.  Still traveling on the new road we were beginning. A road that looks really foggy and dim now. A road that promises new joys, triumphs, ups, downs, twists and turns.  

I would like to think of Him as the Great Chauffeur.  And it’s going to be a glorious ride, because of the One who is behind the wheel.

 

The Roller Coaster of Graduation

Today's Five Minute Friday prompt word is quite appropriately, "miss."  Join us if you like at katemotaung.com


The month of May is one of my favorite times of the year.  The cold weather is behind us, the sweltering days of summer have yet to arrive.  May is the month of promise, when high school and college seniors graduate, school children are promoted, love-struck couples recite vows to each other, and summer vacation lies ahead.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of completing a chapter in your life and beginning a new one. It's kind of like riding a roller coaster.  You know it will be exciting, you understand that others have gone before you and survived, yet the inevitable twists and turns and sudden drops keep your heart racing, simultaneously feeling love, hate, excitement, and in a sense, dread.

Ironically, my husband and I are experiencing a sort of graduation ourselves right now. After much planning, praying, discussing, and waiting, he announced to our church last week that he would soon be stepping down as senior pastor of the church we have loved and led for the past sixteen years.

The time was right.  As difficult as the announcement was, knowing what we needed to do and not following through would be disobedience to the plan the Lord has for us.  What we weren't expecting was the sudden surge of emotions that the thought of saying good-bye to our church family would bring.

In order to take on a new venture, there is always a trade-off.  You cannot change and yet remain the same.  Saying hello to a new occupation, a new home, a new city, a new church, means saying good-bye to what we have known and loved and grown accustomed to. It feels like a ripping, a tearing.  Those old wine-skins are so soft and comfortable. The old feels better right now.  

All at once, center and front were the dear faces of those we would miss.  They represented years of our lives, all stacked together.  We saw faces of those whose marriages were about to fall apart, yet in His mercy were restored.  We saw children who hadn't even been born when we began.  Those we had taken into our home, who found security, found their footing, and now have careers and families of their own.  Those who have grown in their love and service to the Lord. Those who were lost, who found the Lord and are now born again and new. It was like looking at a motion picture of our lives set on fast forward.  

We are graduating, and the only clear picture we see is the one in our rear view mirror. The road ahead looks bumpy and full of twists and turns and drops, and it would be so easy to get off this roller coaster and go back to the predictable, familiar place we had known.  

"For now, we can only see a dim and blurry picture of things, as when we stare into polished metal. I realize that everything I know is only part of the big picture. But one day, when Jesus arrives, we will see clearly, face-to-face."(1 Corinthians 13:12 The Voice)

We don't know what the future holds. But we know Who holds the future.

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." ( 2 Cor. 4:18 NIV)

Choosing Simple Over Easy

I picked up a hitchhiker this week.

She was a tiny, petite little thing.  Overall pretty dirty, and she didn't smell very nice.  She asked if we were heading North, and, actually we were.  I had Steven, a co-worker with me, a 23 year old strong, weight-lifting type young man, so I thought it would be okay.  Besides, something about her confidence and straightforward way of asking took me off-guard.  I really couldn't think of a reason why not, so I said yes.  I had just read a blog that morning about Bob Goff, the author of Love Does, who took his friends on various "capers," adventures where they could find ways to bless people.

So I thought of this as my very first caper.

She plopped into the back seat of our very packed SUV, along with her "little" dog Venus, an over-gown sweet mutt she had picked up along the way, who rode with her, sprawled out on her back, enjoying the ride. It seemed in Venus' five short months on this earth, she had experienced a life of capers, traveling across the entire country, visiting friends, concerts, festivals, and circuses.

I had to know what motivated her to choose this lifestyle.  Steven and I took turns asking the obvious questions she'd answered many times before, yet she took great joy in sharing her story.

She had been a soccer star during high school, so talented that it had earned her a full ride scholarship.  She had played during college while finishing her degree in Special Ed, literally burning the candle at both ends between school and soccer.  People kept telling her not to ever stop playing soccer, she was so talented, so she didn't.  Eventually she realized that all of her hard work landed her in a profession that didn't pay well.  There isn't much interest in female professional soccer in our country, she said.  She was tired, burnt out, disenchanted.  She knew there was more to her than just being a soccer player or PE teacher, but she'd never had the time to discover it.

So, she hit the road, the road of self-discovery.  She chose a simple life with very few obligations, save to take care of little Venus.  And she learned the art of being direct and asking for help. Backpack and a few clothes with her, she worked wherever she landed, sometimes sleeping on floors of buildings or homes, sometimes sleeping in her hammock with Venus outside.  Florida was tough, she said with all of the bugs and insects.  She had been snowboarding in Colorado, sight-seeing in California with a friend, working festivals in North Carolina, waiting tables in tourist-laden islands. It really wasn't an easy life. It's not easy trying to plan your next meal.  It's not easy setting up a hammock in the dark of a deserted forest.  Not easy asking strangers for rides to your next destination.

But it is simple.

I asked if it was difficult to make the change, to initially drop everything and just hit the road by herself.  I couldn't imagine doing it.  I couldn't imagine not having responsibilities, not having my loved ones around me, not really having a plan for the day or week.

She said it hadn't been for her, since she now had the time to try new hobbies and crafts, perfect some kind of juggling skill that now made her money in many shows.  It involved strings and glass balls, and eventually fire.  She's asked all the time to join traveling shows and circuses with her acquired skill, but she says no.  It would put her right back into the 9 to 5 job she had just escaped.  It would tie her hands so she wouldn't be able to explore other hidden talents she had but didn't realize yet.

In my attempt to help her, to bless her, she got me thinking.  How much have I missed throughout my life by taking the predictable path that seemed easy, but became stressful, and complicated?

How do I simplify to that I can allow the Lord to mold me and change me?  What are the hidden talents I possess that I have been too busy to discover?

What about you?
Do you need to start asking new questions?
Go on a caper or two?
Choose simple over easy?