Anyone who has known me in the past two years knows I like to spray paint. And by "like to spray paint" I mean "am obsessed with spray painting". Now I could spend this entire blog post telling you why spray paint is so amazing -- how it's cheap, how it can completely make something over in a matter of minutes, how it can breathe life into something old and gross and make it look cute and modern -- but that's not really where I'm going with this.
I've written about DC before, and how much I learned from the kind, generous people of NCC. One of the coolest things to happen on the trip, though, I haven't written about.
On my last day, I had a meeting with someone I've looked up to forever. It was good, but not at all what I expected. At the conclusion of the meeting, the person I'd met with reunited me with Maegan, my hostess for the trip. "She's probably out back spray painting something," the person I'd met with said offhandedly.
SHUT. THE. FRONT. DOOR.
In addition to being kind, helpful, wise, and just generally awesome and easy to talk to, Maegan also likes to spray paint?!?! And that's when I knew for sure that God was in this relationship.
No, really, I do mean that.
It amazes me that out of all the things God did on that trip both big and small, that spray painting matters to Him. Not so much the act of spray painting or the glories of spray painting (though they are many), but that He cares about the details of our lives enough to care about putting two women together who would connect on something like that. We weren't there to talk about crafts or ourselves, yet the Lord knew what He was doing and HE was the one who arranged to have it brought up. Out of all of the random things in our lives that we didn't talk about, God knew we would connect on the issue of spray painting, so He saw to it that that was brought up naturally in conversation.
It boggles my mind. What a caring God who is in the details. I love that about Him -- that He connected a Pacific-northwesterner-relocated-to-the-east-coast-social-justice-advocate-and-budget-fashionista-turned-discipleship-professional with a midwesterner-relocated-to-the-south-engineering-professor-doing-who-knows-what-with-her-life in the context of learning discipleship over something trivial yet incredible: spray paint. (Whew, that was a sentence!)
I think that is awesome. And I am grateful for spray paint (duh), for my friend Maegan (she's awesome), and for a loving, caring God who knows that spray paint is the way to my heart. He worked with that to help me make a new friend.
So cool. One more thing I love about our God who is in the details -- even the trivial ones like spray painting.
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Monday, January 6, 2014
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Chessly
The other week I was at our church offices after a meeting, and I was meeting a friend for dinner at 9. I had some time before I was supposed to meet him, so I decided just to wait at church and finish up some work until dinner.
A voice interrupted me. Since I had left the door unlocked, someone had come into our church and asked, "Um, sorry, but do you know if the last bus has come for the night?"
A bit of background for the non-Fayetteville people -- Arkansas in general and Fayetteville in particular are not places you want to live without a car. While we do have a small bus system, the schedule is infrequent and the routes are limited. So, long story short, I told the normal, young-ish looking girl who I assumed was a college student that I didn't know and that I would be happy to look the information up for her online. She said she thought she'd missed the last bus for the night, walked outside, and thanked me.
And that's when the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit told me to offer her a ride. So I locked up the church and I did.
Over the course of giving her a ride, that's when I learned she was a domestic abuse victim, she had just left her living situation in Louisiana a few weeks prior, she'd had to leave her dog and sense of security behind, she was drunk on a Wednesday night at 8 PM, she was staying with strangers who were cokeheads, she didn't have a place to live, and her phone had been stolen from the last sketchy guy who she'd stayed with two nights prior. My heart was broken. I kept asking the Lord to give me wisdom -- what do I do? What do I say?
When I dropped her off, it broke my heart. I asked if I could pray for her. She initially wouldn't let me, but she then relented. I sensed the Holy Spirit's presence heavily right there in my little Civic in a sketchy neighborhood praying for my new friend Chessly. She asked for my number and, after praying for wisdom, I felt like I should give it to her -- so I did. However, it's been about a month and I haven't heard from her.
I still pray for her; I would appreciate it if you would too.
Like I've explained before, one of the biggest lessons I'm learning now is to just to be faithful to the opportunities the Lord puts in front of you. I'm also learning that you never know what they will be.
A voice interrupted me. Since I had left the door unlocked, someone had come into our church and asked, "Um, sorry, but do you know if the last bus has come for the night?"
A bit of background for the non-Fayetteville people -- Arkansas in general and Fayetteville in particular are not places you want to live without a car. While we do have a small bus system, the schedule is infrequent and the routes are limited. So, long story short, I told the normal, young-ish looking girl who I assumed was a college student that I didn't know and that I would be happy to look the information up for her online. She said she thought she'd missed the last bus for the night, walked outside, and thanked me.
And that's when the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit told me to offer her a ride. So I locked up the church and I did.
Over the course of giving her a ride, that's when I learned she was a domestic abuse victim, she had just left her living situation in Louisiana a few weeks prior, she'd had to leave her dog and sense of security behind, she was drunk on a Wednesday night at 8 PM, she was staying with strangers who were cokeheads, she didn't have a place to live, and her phone had been stolen from the last sketchy guy who she'd stayed with two nights prior. My heart was broken. I kept asking the Lord to give me wisdom -- what do I do? What do I say?
When I dropped her off, it broke my heart. I asked if I could pray for her. She initially wouldn't let me, but she then relented. I sensed the Holy Spirit's presence heavily right there in my little Civic in a sketchy neighborhood praying for my new friend Chessly. She asked for my number and, after praying for wisdom, I felt like I should give it to her -- so I did. However, it's been about a month and I haven't heard from her.
I still pray for her; I would appreciate it if you would too.
Like I've explained before, one of the biggest lessons I'm learning now is to just to be faithful to the opportunities the Lord puts in front of you. I'm also learning that you never know what they will be.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Adventure
When I was in DC, my friend Maegan was driving and we missed a turn. "Eh, it's no big deal. If we get lost, we will have an urban adventure!" I said. Then we got blocked in at the gas station or something, and we had to do a 20 point turn. "Oh well, an adventure." She subsequently suggested I write a blog post about adventure. It's been one of the things rattling around in my mental queue for a month or so, and now I think I am ready to take the leap and to write about it.
I guess it wasn't until my trip to DC that I realized how much I said that -- "this is an adventure." I credit a lot of that to my mom; "adventure" was something she said to us a lot growing up. She worked to find fun and interesting experiences in the ordinary and the mundane, even with the limited resources we had. I am grateful to her for those lessons.
I also credit a lot of it to lessons I'm learning these days as the Lord develops my character. One of the things that I've learned during this year of development is that there are lots of times when I cannot control the situation I find myself in. What I do have control over, however, is the attitude I have. This is why I choose to view things that are on the unpleasant side -- getting lost, teaching a new class I don't know anything about, not having a life plan beyond May 2014 -- as an adventure. It helps to reframe the situation and improves my attitude -- and helps me to see the wonder and fun in situations that I used to see as scary, annoying or unpleasant. It also helps me to get my eyes off the discomfort and to work to learn and keep my eyes on what God is trying to teach me.
So this is why I choose to view life as an adventure -- and let me tell you, I am having one heck of an adventure this year!
Sunday, November 3, 2013
"Kids" these Days
I remember when I first graduated from graduate school, a 27 year old newly minted PhD. I was extremely uncomfortable with my newly-earned title of Dr. Root. I remember that I fought it for a long time, thinking it sounded old and stuffy and arrogant. I remember feeling a lot more comfortable being called "Sarah". I remember feeling like I had a lot more in common with the graduate students than I did with my colleagues.
Seven years later, all that has changed. One other thing has changed too -- the way I refer to our students.
I remember when I first took this job I was irrationally obsessed with calling the people I taught "students". When colleagues or staff people would call them kids, I'd bristle. "They're 18 (or 21 or 24). They are old enough to vote and be drafted. They're not kids, they're adults."
This year, I've noticed that I've started to call my students kids. And I've noticed that it's because they often act like kids. Yes they could vote or be drafted or even have children of their own -- but in many cases, they act like kids. And maybe even more than that, I'm ok with calling them kids because I love many of them like kids. I see the potential in them. I want them to make good choices, but know that a lot of times the best way for kids to learn is by making mistakes and overestimating their abilities. Sometimes they frustrate the crap out of me. But I am grateful that the Lord has put them in my path for a semester or for a year or however long our lives intersect.
And maybe calling them kids means that I'm getting older, too -- I can accept that :) It's been a good run. I love these kids and I am grateful for the seven years I've had at the University of Arkansas serving them and loving them. What a blessing. I will miss them next year when I'm gone.
Seven years later, all that has changed. One other thing has changed too -- the way I refer to our students.
I remember when I first took this job I was irrationally obsessed with calling the people I taught "students". When colleagues or staff people would call them kids, I'd bristle. "They're 18 (or 21 or 24). They are old enough to vote and be drafted. They're not kids, they're adults."
This year, I've noticed that I've started to call my students kids. And I've noticed that it's because they often act like kids. Yes they could vote or be drafted or even have children of their own -- but in many cases, they act like kids. And maybe even more than that, I'm ok with calling them kids because I love many of them like kids. I see the potential in them. I want them to make good choices, but know that a lot of times the best way for kids to learn is by making mistakes and overestimating their abilities. Sometimes they frustrate the crap out of me. But I am grateful that the Lord has put them in my path for a semester or for a year or however long our lives intersect.
And maybe calling them kids means that I'm getting older, too -- I can accept that :) It's been a good run. I love these kids and I am grateful for the seven years I've had at the University of Arkansas serving them and loving them. What a blessing. I will miss them next year when I'm gone.
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