The Ants Go Marching One by One--No Hurrah Here

There are ants all over the townhouse I'm staying at for the first part of my summer. I discovered them the other day when a few of them determined to bite my ankle. So, I did what any new resident without proper resources would do: I sprayed some kitchen cleaner on the ones I could see and called it good for the night. I couldn't get over how small and seemingly harmless they appeared; I now beg to differ. 

Sadly, this didn't solve the issue as I awoke the next morning and sleepily, not to mention contact-and-glasses-free, made my way into the kitchen to make coffee. They'd thrown a party in the middle of the floor--thank the Lord I actually saw them! Probably 75-100 new little friends blocked my way from sink to counter. This sent me into a cleaning frenzy and I quickly vacuumed them up (more humane?) and proceeded to do the same to all of the tile floors to ensure no crumb was left to be discovered by any of their relatives.

Have I mentioned that I'm in the middle of a huge transition? Exhausted? Wondering how my new full-time life here in Florida is going to turn out especially as most of my friends are not here at present? Living out of boxes and suitcases?

Later that day, more ants. This time upstairs in the master bath. You'd think I'd head directly to the store and buy the Ortho, but no, I kept doing it 'my way' (mostly because I couldn't find the energy to deal). Big surprise: it hasn't worked. Regardless of how many ants I squash, spray with one version of household cleaner or another and even yes, in my weak moments, curse them, they've determined to stay put. In fact, late this afternoon, I was hastily getting ready for my small group and happened to notice bunches (!!!) of them in the master bedroom on the carpet and on the nightstand. Needless to say, I was late.

So tonight, I popped into Publix in Thorton Park after my small group ended. Knowing that even a small taste of the city would give my spirit some lift, I enjoyed the fleeting minutes I spent searching for the right tools to take care of my new roommates. Then, I headed far away from the city toward my home of the next weeks and yep, I cried.

Do you ever feel like the last straw has been pulled for you and you're totally out of control? This would be me at the moment.

Thankfully, I came home to a friend who listened to me rant about the day for a few minutes before I began spraying Ortho like a lunatic and strategically setting up ant traps. It was extremely cathartic. The point? Well, I'm still trying to figure that out, but somehow I think it has something to do with what I do when I reach the end of myself. Not that there's a lesson to be had in everything, but these ants have been a great reminder that I'm in need of mercy and grace as I move through this transition. They're sort-of representative of the chaos that exists inside me and how it keeps showing up in new and unexpected places. Though it's annoying and frustrating I guess I'm trying to make the best of it, doing what I can as I'm able. 

Generosity: Not for the Stingy of Heart

What would be generous?

Four simple words mobbed with meaning. It's a question I've begun asking myself recently and I'm finding it to be quite the challenge. Last week my roommates and I were packing up our apartment; I noticed that things were moving slowly. There came a moment when it hit me that we'd never be out on time unless I picked up my pace in order to be available to clean once my belongings were safely stowed. So, I did.

The next day, I finished and cleaned my room then turned my attention to the common spaces. I was in the middle of clearing and wiping out our kitchen cabinets when a wave of bitterness began to rise. Thoughts like, "I knew this would happen," and "They don't even care that I am stepping in to do more,"  raced through my mind. Standing over the kitchen sink, I allowed my rantings to continue and quietly, I heard Him... "You don't have to do all of this, you're choosing to..."

I stopped in my tracks as the warm water washed over my hands... Heart surgery. I argued that I did need to do this - we'd never be done on time. I was thinking of the people responsible for checking on our apartment to ensure it was left as required. They already had so much on their plates without our lack of care or concern about their work to get everyone out on time. I didn't want to take advantage.

Next I began to think about the way I communicate a high value on generosity in all aspects of my life. Wouldn't it be generous to clean our apartment to bless my roommates? That would certainly show kindness and love as they only had a few hours left to move their belongings. Was it really so hard for me to clean? After all, I love to clean! (Really, I am that person.)

God, in His goodness, also reminded me in those moments that being generous outwardly did not change the reality of what He saw and experienced in my heart. Oh, stingy, stingy heart. He, as He always is, was right. Generosity doesn't depend upon my outward deeds, but pours out through a heart that is in right relationship with Him.

Relationship. Yes, that's what this is all about, isn't it?

Not only were my relationships with my roommates (as an aside: roommates whom I completely adore!) affected by what was taking place in my inner life, but also my relationship with God. The One who spared nothing, including His Son, that I might be free and have life!! SUCH generosity! Who was I to withhold this very minuscule act of generosity through a growing inward bitterness?

Both roommates later told me how grateful they were for the extra work I did to get us out of that apartment. The sweetness of their gratitude fell heavy upon my heart as I considered what had taken place between the Lord and I. It has been another good picture of the need I have for the Gospel and the mercy of God.

What does it mean to walk in generosity in my finances, work, service, relationships, with my belongings, time, gifts and beyond? 

May I have a growing awareness that God has given me everything and I now have the opportunity to employ my freedom as a blessing to others. Inwardly, I choose to give it all away. Outwardly, I do. 

How can I live out His generosity today?

Beyond Stint

Sitting in my half-empty room today, I'm thinking about transitions. My life has been full of them this year. Stint is officially over, the safety net gone, the apartment will be a distant memory beginning tomorrow and then what? I suppose I'll begin the process of actually adjusting to my new life. Well, maybe Saturday.

Like the Orlando nights filled with thick humidity-fog (I've never actually heard it called that, but I think I'll use it), I peer beyond the darkness and find the Lord opening new doors of promise up ahead. I'm waiting in anticipation and yet, I'm still very tired. I imagine the weariness will follow me around for a while longer to remind me that it is good to live at rest, walk at rest, work at rest. So Jesus, I am resting, resting...

Something I don't wish to pack away in any of these boxes is the brightness of my time with Him this year. I didn't want to forget from whence I came; today, I've turned my attention to remembering Him. Pray that I faithfully trust Him, look to Him, depend upon Him, long for Him and love Him. He is nearer, dearer and sweeter...

The Post to Help Me Remember Matthew 11:28-30

Lake Hart Stint 11 ends in a couple of weeks. This reality is exhilarating and simultaneously disconcerting. There has been a safety net beneath me for nearly ten months as I have processed my life openly before God and a few close friends. The process has been painful and sweet, yet an enormous amount of grace has been shown to me. Looking back on these months, friends tell me that they experience me differently... in a good way. I cannot feel anything but gratitude to the Lord for bringing me to the other side of what I've just been through. Deep places of need have surfaced and He tells me to rest as today I wonder: Will the changes remain?

In light of that, I felt that I needed to publish a poem here to remind myself that I do not want to return from whence I came. Regardless of who reads this blog, I find that putting this out there publicly serves as a help to continue to trust God with next growth steps. Interestingly enough, I wrote this on September 30, 2008. I think it was one of the catalysts for me to begin to see what was really going on inside. At that time, I could not have imagined how God would meet me, but He has in ways that have been profound and significant. He is truly good.

And, you can ask me how I'm doing if you want... I'm open to people coming alongside me as I step into my new role and season of life with the Lord and others here in Orlando: resting, listening, receiving, responding and giving.

Losing Sight

Running, I'm running
Running my course
A treadmill unending, lacking refuge

One day I realize
I'm sick of my game
Losing capacity; my sense:
'All is in vain'

Wondering:
What's next?...
How can I get off?...
-Of this traveling treadmill-
When is my stop?

I've sought their approval
I've established my name
I'm weary, so tired
it is such a shame
Motivation is gone
Lights' drained from my eyes
Can anyone sense I'm dying inside?

Running, I'm running
Running my course...
I've completely lost sight of my life-giving Source.

An Unexpectedly Wonderful Day

Saturday.

Noon. Found my way out of the house; packed my writing notebook, Message version Bible, Journal, and book my Sphere is reading this summer...

1:30PMish. After driving through some sketchy parts of the city, praying for God to bring His Kingdom and restore the broken (what sweet time!), I landed at Infusion Tea in College Park for a bit.

Ran into Brenda from my department, met her friend, Jan and then found a window seat at a high top table to spend some quiet time.

I wrote about some broken places in my life and reflected on how I have experienced growth, even when it doesn't appear that way. A dear friend, Megan and I caught up via phone and prayed before hanging up. She encouraged me immensely. Read two chapters in my Sphere book, The Furious Longing of God, by Brennan Manning. It make me think and smile.

3:45 PM. Off to another adventure. A new friend highly recommended a photography exhibit downtown... SNAP, so I decided to go.

4:05 PM. Parked and meandered toward the gallery I visited last weekend to better understand the lay of the land. Happened upon a wine/food festival there. Popped into the gallery, asked some questions, discovered the main event didn't occur until 7 PM (Hummm... 3 hours to kill?) and took some time to look at the pieces they had in their possession.

Was challenged by the story one photographer told about a mobile home park here in Florida. The residents chose to live there and LOVED it. Their perspective on beauty had so much more to do with people than with things. I admired them and soaked in the images.

And, I looked to my left, and there was Jenn from Status. She and a friend popped into the gallery while waiting to meet others who were attending the festival outside.

We chatted briefly and then they left; I continued my tour. I found myself in the front of the gallery talking with Donna, a painter who volunteered there. We talked about the importance of our humanity and what we can learn from people like those in the mobile home park.

She kindly offered me a free pass to the wine/food festival outside! And, we said our goodbyes and I went on my way.

5:30 PM. I took in the crowds of people and wandered through the booths. Sipped some vino, ate tiny food and felt hot under the late afternoon sun. In one line, I met Tommy who gave me a hard time about being at the festival on my own. A psychotherapist in town who oversees the hospital wards, he shared briefly of the depth of pain that kids that he and his staff encounter experience in life. It reminded me to be grateful.

He introduced me to his friends, Ian and Tim. We chatted for a few minutes and they asked what I was up to -- I told them I was passing the time until the exhibit opened at 7 PM and how I had happened upon the festival. They couldn't believe I got in for free. I told them I must have a way with people. ;)

We said our goodbyes with the hope that perhaps we'd reconnect later --potentially at the exhibit--he sweetly kissed my cheek and I wished them a great afternoon.

5:45 PM. A bit more navigation required, I finally found a local coffee shop where some local musicians were setting up to play. I sat at a bar of sorts with my iced peppermint mocha (delightful!!), pulled out my journal and thought I'd spend some time processing on paper the thoughts swirling in my mind from the last 36 hours.

I wrote for quite a while and decided to go back and remember... The entries varied and I saw how I longed to connect with God and be changed by Him. The hardest to read? October 20, 2009. That was the day I felt "done" with Him and laid it all out there. I was in so much pain... The redeeming thing about October 20, 2009, however, was that my relationship with God was forever altered -- in a good way. Had this day never occurred, I would not be who I am and where I am now.

7:05 PM. A guy named Shaun sat down by me at the counter. He asked what I was doing and I told him I was remembering. He asked if I was a writer. I actually said "Yes." (Who knew it was in me to begin to admit it to perfect strangers!) He asked some personal questions about the writing and I was able to answer. I wasn't sure what he was going after, so I cautiously went along. I told him about God and how that's my foundation. He and his sister, Megan (a college student in S. FL who was visiting her big brother for the weekend) were participating in the festival and he asked what I was up to. I told him I was heading to a photography exhibit and he said, "Why don't we all go together?"

And so we did. Trust me, I was being safe, but I can imagine this might sound unsafe.

So we went. Taking in the different perspectives, we discussed what they meant and honestly, after a while, the vibe I was getting from him made me determine that I needed to head out sooner than later.

I enjoyed interacting with Seth who showed us a new technology that projects images, film and the like from a device the size of an iPhone... Pretty cool stuff. And, just a few other people that I didn't officially meet, but interacted with throughout the exhibit space.

I was able to move along on my own after expressing that I needed to get going to meet up with some friends back home. And, in the process, found my way up the stairs to the last part of the exhibit. Probably one of my favorite rooms.

9:20 PM. At the end of the day and on my drive home, I understood what a unique and special day the Lord had given me. I met so many people throughout its course - some known, some unknown - and was able to share about the Kingdom in small ways. What an encouraging time and what a beautiful way to spend a day.

The Last Will Be First

I came across an online photo today of a woman lying in a bed, her small body had nothing to it. Standing over this frail one, was another woman, very healthy in appearance, reaching out her hand to touch her. As I sat with the image for a minute, the thought that permeated my mind was this: that woman should go before me in the Kingdom.

Jesus' words hit me like a ton of bricks, "But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first." ( Speaking about the Kingdom in Matthew 19:30.) How often do I desire to be 'first' in life? As an American, it is often my expectation, not simply a privilege or blessing. When I approach life and people this way, I am wrong. And, it takes a moment of introspection to see it most clearly.

Compared with the myriad of sufferers in the world (...not seeking to invalidate my own suffering, yet desiring God to enlarge my perspective), my suffering is minimal. There is so much pain in the world. The reality that some believers (notwithstanding, the unbelievers around the globe) don't have clean water, proper nourishment, shelter, medicine, religious freedoms and more, humbles me in a way I cannot properly express.

Today, I feel grateful that God will honor others ahead of me. It is appropriate and loving.

Perceiving the Potluck: An Invitation

Tonight at Status we had an ol' fashioned Potluck. After finishing up my paintings earlier in the afternoon, I spent the next few hours wrestling over the decision to go or not. Here's the thing: I've been out of town (and honestly, out of sorts this year on the Stint) and made a commitment to myself following my last trip to be present at Status (the community of believers I'm engaging with here in Orlando). However, the friend I typically attend with was not able to go tonight.

So all afternoon I wrestled. I knew the Lord wanted me to go and I found myself wondering if it would be okay to outright disobey and head out with some friends who had other ideas for the evening. In the midst of this, I texted two others... Not going. Even though I enjoy people, it felt pretty intimidating to go by myself since we'd be having this Potluck and certainly sitting around tables with strangers or something of the sort. Every insecure place inside me rose to the occasion and I reasoned, "Well, the Lord loves me and will forgive me if I don't listen..." Right?

It's true, He would do that, but I would MISS out on something He had for me.

Long story, still long? I went. By God's mercy (truly, that's absolutely it!), another friend agreed to go with me to be my wing-woman. I told the Lord that He didn't have to provide in that way, but I was so grateful that He did. He's so stinkin' kind to me.

On my way there, I dropped into a store to grab something I might contribute. I found some crackers, meat and cheese, hopped in the car making it there early. (Can't remember the last time that happened now that I think of it.) And, yep, I was so glad that I listened to the Lord. Everything from the table-time to the message was so poignant and timely. Cole is continuing a series called Awaken the Dawn and continued sharing about spiritual maturity tonight utilizing the metaphor: Buffet v. Potluck. It was so encouraging and challenging.

The bottom line of what he talked about was that we want to live a Potluck lifestyle when it comes to our spiritual growth and maturity...

1. The table is empty: we approach with something to offer (note to self: let the Lord shower grace upon you when you find yourself apologizing for what you have to offer... like you did tonight with what you brought for the Potluck. Sad, but true in my life - this spoke volumes!)
2. Many people can contribute to a potluck--actually its SO much better with many than with a few.
3. A potluck is full of flavor; people bring part of who they are to the equation, it's diverse and delicious.
4. Potlucks are risky (as a Germaphobe, I LOVED this point :) ); you don't know what you're going to get, so you step out on a limb--we're able to risk because we're surrounded by people who love us.
5. A call to generosity; if we didn't give of ourselves, the table would be empty.
6. We participate and therefore, we grow! We don't simply approach and consume, but we are empowered to contribute.

Another positive? Ask my family, they'll affirm this... I hate buffets!! ; )

On a more serious note, as we looked at many passages in Scripture throughout the evening, I was reminded how high a value God places on our growth and maturity. For me, the Lord continues to affirm His desire that I step from fear to faith in several big areas of my life, trusting Him because He loves me. The post from earlier today gives a glimpse of some of those fears. I hear the Lord inviting me to join Him in a sweeter place -- a place of freedom -- and I really want to follow Him as He leads me there.

In the Face of Fear

Artists I know understand something about the process. The initial inspiration leads them to action and by some means unknown to me, most would say that the product is not what they originally envisioned, but better. Though I try to internalize the greatness of how it seems to work, I struggle with the reality.

If you know me, you know that I thrive on the messy and love to solve problems with excellence. A perfectionist and yes, Type A (me in a box!), I have a tendency to procrastinate until I know I can do something well. As a result, the creative process can feel like torture to me. I love the idea of expressing myself, engaging with the Lord and experiencing His truth as I write, draw or paint; yet, all of these forms of artistry take a toll because I can't know how it will turn out in the end. And, if I'm honest, I don't know how open I am to feeling this 'seen'. I am afraid.

As I type, I'm also reminded of how this comparison relates to people--you cannot control them, you must listen and temper your expectations of what's coming next. Uncertainty is the only certainty you're guaranteed. Intimacy comes when you are vulnerable and let them close enough to see the cracks and they do the same. This, too, is scary.

Today I sat down and actually completed two smallish paintings. Shockingly, I found myself reveling in the process throughout the whole of the morning! I smiled and teared up as I realized it mid-stroke. And, who knows if they're even any good--though, it really doesn't matter... I like them.

It feels brave.

In the Land of Women...

My roommate and I were in the "I'm not up for going out on the town", aka Friday, sort of mood tonight, so I popped over to the new frozen yogurt place across the way, grabbed treats and headed back to introduce her to one of my favorite films. I don't think I've written about it here before...

Each of the ten (+) times I've watched In the Land of Women, I find myself reflecting and thinking about life. Such a poignant, funny, sad and truly beautiful story erupts as a young guy from LA runs from his present reality, finding an unexpectedly safe haven in a small Michigan neighborhood where he takes time to care for his ailing grandmother. Two key characters, a mother and daughter living across the street, bring their own issues to bear as they spend time with him.

In the film everyone works to conceal something, but the thing they think is hidden is actually known. They just don't know that it's known. Confusing enough for you? Each time I watch it I'm reminded of the chaos existing in my own heart. What do I do with my pain? The characters handle pain differently. We see them running from it, medicating it, filling the void with things like relationships and busyness, or utterly suppressing it.

However, the sweetness comes in the honest moments. Each of them wants to be known; each takes risks, engages, fails, forgives. I love how messy it is -- I don't always understand or agree with their choices, but I 'get' the chaos, the pain.  I never experience a sense of resolution as the credits roll, but I do feel strangely inspired. And though I have seen it many times, I'm still trying to put my finger on the 'why'.

Free: Amazing Hymns Album! Yes, Please.

 
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Download it

Would I Give Up High Heels?

In my world these last years, I have become fond of a description I ascribe to myself regarding my obsession with high heels... I am my 'true-intended height' when I wear them. God made me 5'4.5", but created men who would make shoes that would take me to the 5'7" or 5'8" that He intended. It was kind of the Lord to do this for me, don't you think?

A recent conversation with a friend has called into question (in a nice, non-judgmental, but making-me-think-sort-of-way) if part of the obsession exists so I might better fit into a daydream I carry around about marrying a very tall man. Yep, that sounds as funny as I expected - ridiculous perhaps? But honestly, when she said this to me on Saturday, I thought, "Hummm...." There is something in me that really desires to feel small and protected in a relationship. I've continued to mull this over wondering what I really do hope for in the person I marry... Another friend, recently engaged, shared just two weeks before how her fiance came in a 'package' she didn't expect, yet how tremendously well-suited they are for another. Was this the Lord preparing me to think this through a bit more?

And Saturday, this question was posed, "Jess, would you give up high heels?" Let's talk about this: "what if" I met a godly man, passionately pursuing and building God's Kingdom, a great communicator who loved me enough to encourage me toward the Lord in life, was growing in grace and truth, and was not what I have envisioned outwardly? What if I towered over him when I wore my heels and that was strange for him? Could I wear flats 'til death do us part? Part of me says, "EEK!"...

Let's just say that I'm still in process with the latter (aka, 'Wow, this is harder to consider than I ever imagined'), but seeking to let the Lord inform my future because I know that He is truly good -- Who knew a girls' high heels could be such a big deal?

New Roots

There is this beautiful ocean pathway along the Atlantic in Maine called the Marginal Way. Walking along it, you can't help but breathe in the salt of the ocean and spot the gulls at play. I don't remember a single thing about its history or even the details of the times I walked it, but I have this photo hanging in a white frame against the textured white wall of my bedroom that I took on one of those treks that shows a lovely leaf-covered tunnel, colored with New England's finest fall colors. I remember the man at the photo printing store (yes, this was prior to the digital age) telling me that the bottom was a bit blurry and it was probably the result of some residue on my camera lens at the time I snapped the picture. (That doesn't have much to do with what I'm about to say, but I'll allow it to serve as my little tangent memory for the post.)

At any rate, I feel like life has gone a bit pear-shaped over the past two weeks (thank you Sweet Home Alabama for that way of looking at life when its messy); I feel out of sorts which has much to do with a complete week of crazy two weeks back, then the following seven days I limited the insanity, yet presently suffer from an overwhelming sense of depletion. Five friends have called that I need to catch up with--I can't bring myself to respond, I keep thinking that a work-out will help--I'm immobilized from shear indecision, I know I'd feel better if I just took care of the cluttered stacks of  paper around my room--but really, why would I want to file today? So, I'm productively staring at the wall and find my gaze settling on this photograph while my memory meanders back to the time I moved to Boston.

I don't remember questioning the decision or even feeling super concerned about the lack of relationships I had in the Northeast  (Oh, let's think... None). Yet, I've just made a decision to stay in Florida -- details to come in the nearer future -- and I think what I'm experiencing is loss. It is very normal to face this with any major change in life, but I think it snuck up on me. I'm really excited about the 'why' when it comes to staying; but the meaning of the change isn't lost on me this time around. I'm not going back to my relationships, my apartment, my city, the Charles River, my favorite restaurants, the seasons, the Public Garden, my office (with the door!), the Red Line, my church... I've already left.

I have to grow new roots. It's like the tunnel in the picture: it is really beautiful to look at, but I'm unsure if I want to walk into and through it. What if I don't like what is on the other side? The pathway is a bit blurry at the bottom and my uncertainty, in the midst of faith, grows.

Two months ago, I was talking with the president of my organization about the outcomes of following the Lord and how I previously grew so close to a community of friends who became my 'family' in Boston. He compassionately said that perhaps it was indeed time for me to establish roots with a new family. At the time, I remember thinking this was true and it really is now.

Praying to thrive where I'm planted. And so goes the story of laying new roots.

March 18: It's Tourney Time!!

The most wonderful time of my year has arrived... Days and nights filled with nothing but NCAA Men's Basketball. Truth be told, my life is altered as I make plans around the games I "must see"! And, I relish it. I love fan-ship, cheering my team on, competing in the bracket challenges with friends (and hopefully beating them!); and, even when it marks death for my bracket, I hanker for a good Cinderella story. It's the fodder from which dreams are made and brings us hope because, at heart, we all love an underdog!

Let the Madness begin!

Unmet Expectations and Social Media: Danger Zone

Yesterday I accepted a friend request on Facebook from a woman I met at a social outing. Today, I was taken aback when I logged on and saw her status update in my news-feed... She was publicly berating her husband. I won't share details of what she communicated, but here I am, unable to sleep and still thinking about it.

At the core, I think she was really disappointed. The sadness therein likely played out in hurt, then anger. It sounded as though her husband played a role beyond what occurred initially which escalated the issue. They both contributed.

Why am I continuing to mull it over?

Part of me feels so sad for her husband. What would it be like to log on to Facebook and see your failure? The reality that she highlighted this openly is hard for me to stomach. Even though I'm not married, friends have helped me gain a small understanding of what this does to a man... She publicly stripped him of something significant today.

My other reflection has been focused on her disappointment. Her husband did not meet a need for her and it seems to have magnified all else. He let her down and it triggered something inside of her. There is genuine validity for the need she experienced -- there's something much deeper going on in her heart. The reality of what she did with the disappointment is another thing altogether.

Lately, I've been weighing the power of my own words (perhaps even in light of my last post and wanting to ensure I provided a fairly balanced perspective in my thinking). In my life, I've experienced the truth of this verse: "Words kill, words give life; they're either poison or fruit -- you choose." (Proverbs 18:21) What we do with them matters. Perhaps I don't "air my dirty laundry" on Facebook, but what she put out there for all to see happens regularly in my heart. I am not immune and I must remember it.

Perhaps a question or two to ask in the near future:

What is my motivation for posting "this" publicly?
What is really going on in my heart?

Also, a good principle I was reminded of today: HALT: Stopping to ask some of these key questions can help us make better decisions especially when things feel out of control emotionally.

Hungry: What do I really need right now?
Angry:   What is really upsetting me and how can I fix it?
Lonely:  Who or what will fill my need for companionship right now?
Tired:    What is a healthy way to increase my energy right now?

Forget Los Angeles?

So I've been thinking...

What is it about men in the context of a Christian subculture of sorts that leads them to become excessively cautious when it comes to relationships? Or, on a much less risky level, the fear of offering a mere compliment to a female friend because of what it could communicate?

I know, I know. We women like to immediately jump into our fantasy-island-land and picture the guy on our first date, then the proposal (he tells us he CANNOT POSSIBLY live without us), our wedding day (we look STUNNING; he thinks so, too!) and our happily ever after where the children (if we have them) think we're amazing, we never fight, we have it all together and the story fades into the backdrop with the well-known sunset and feel good music (perhaps Michael Buble's "Haven't Met You Yet" - we'll see the irony in the lyric as we're so enraptured by the beauty of the story we've just witnessed?)... Whew.

This is what happens when girlfriends get together to shoot the breeze - probably a scary idea for most guys. : ) We, however, do WONDER about these weird realities and where they come from...

Perhaps we've placed too much pressure on guys to have it figured out when really, we know you don't (have it figured out, that is). This doesn't come from a bitter place, actually, rather one filled with compassion. Or perhaps, we continue (in our lovely female way) to give some guys more credit than is due because they know, as do their male friends, that they are afraid and it immobilizes them.

THAT said, we, females, have MAJOR issues, too... Let's not lose sight of that in this moment. (Remember, fantasy-island-land!... If I were a man, I'd be afraid...)

I have been thinking about this since returning from LA last weekend. A strange thing happened there... I actually met Christian guys that were both engaging, handsome, and fun. They weren't scared of me. They asked me questions, made eye contact (what!?!), were kind, even forthright and seemingly mature. (Basis for "seemingly" as used in the last sentence: I don't know much more than the first impression allowed, so I can't comment beyond this, nor they about me for that matter...)

The one remarkable thing I took with me (as I headed back into the, sometimes strange, subculture I live in) was the real sense of being a woman. They behaved like men and in turn, I felt noticed, interesting and yes, even attractive. It was awesome and encouraging.

No wonder I want to move to Los Angeles A.S.A.P. ;)