#coffeewithDon
I’ve always leaned more toward poetic prose as I meandered through words finding my writing “voice.” I wrote better essays than fiction; I always say the only character I’m good at developing is my own. The only problem with an essay-esque poetic prose writing style was no one in my generation was reading books like that, let alone writing them.
Instead I pursued music. I love music and wanted to be a part of it. Until God brought me back to Virginia Beach and reminded me to use what he gave me; my talent and love of getting the words in the right order. The only burden was that was a lot of work!
In 2007 someone suggested I read this book called Blue Like Jazz by some guy in Portland; so I read it and everything changed. I had found someone who cared where the words laid on the page and used letters like acrylic sweeping across the canvas of the page connecting with my spirit in my same essay style poetic prose fashion.
I still remember the opening pages “sometimes you have to watch someone love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.” From then on I was a student of this author as if I were an intern; spending my days stirring my passions to paint my own masterpieces. Even those first lines encouraged and inspired me to love Jesus differently; it helped me on my journey of understanding the power of the everyday and threaded itself through the terrain reminding me who I wanted to be as I navigated the path.
I’ve read every book since then, the introduction to Through Painted Deserts encouraged me to leave in a time of decision making and follow my dreams to Nashville. I still use it to this day to encourage other people when they are seeking the paths in their own lives.
When I finally decided to pursue this writing thing and stop being lazy I decided to take my mentors and follow their writing. To explore the avenues they take and use it to stir myself up. I even started a letter requesting a mentoring process from Donald Miller and then a contest for the promotion of A Million Miles in a Thousand Years and won a copy of the manuscript with a cell phone number to call Don and talk about his book. A chance to talk about writing with one of my most favorite authors, awesome! Life happens though, and I missed my chance.
Now, I’m taking my first trip to Portland, Oregon for work next week and am hoping for an opportunity at a coffee. Why not? You never know until you ask. So I’ve talked with my friends about it and we decided to try and get his attention through social media. To take a chance to make the day stand out; it’s about the story you are telling with your life right? You never know what will happen if you don’t take a chance, be risky, and ask.
So Donald Miller, if you are reading this, I will be in Portland from Monday, April 30 – Sunday, May 6 staying in downtown. I am on a work trip so I’m not free as a bird, but I do have flexibility. If you are willing I’d love the opportunity to buy you a coffee and talk about words and writing for a little bit. My twitter handle is @ginpaynter I hope to hear from you.
at the lorraine motel
My brother and I visited the Civil Rights Museum while in Memphis for Thanksgiving. The museum is housed in the Lorraine Motel, the site of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. Through a creative design the motel was built-out leading through a time-lined display of memorabilia and story; starting from the beginning of slavery and ending at MLK’s hotel room looking out over the balcony where he was assassinated.
The museum is full of massive amounts of boards and papers to read with wonderful pithy statements full of courage and deep observation of the character of man. It was amazing how organized and documented activists were. There were rules on how to behave when arrested, how to protect yourself against attack, how to wear your clothes, and organization of who was able to speak during rallies and protests.
I was most moved by the youth of the time. I’ve sat through American History my entire life learning of civil liberties and the fights it took to get where we are now. I can’t remember not knowing what Brown v Board of Education was, always familiar with images from Little Rock Central High School; students being escorted through mobs of angry protestors by the National Guard. A majority of the Civil Rights Movement and breaking segregation through Separate but Equal were acted out and bravely fought by kids younger than I am today. What courage they had to stand for justice.
Yesterday, I went to visit a man I know who is counting down days this week until he will have surgery for total heart replacement; after this surgery he will wait until a transplant comes available. I know this man does not believe in Jesus. I had planned to send him a card but the more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to go and actually tell this man who Jesus was. I saw him hanging over a grand precipice and I had to at least hold my hand out to him. I was a nervous wreck yesterday, I was so nervous to go see him, I didn’t want this man to be bogged down with religious dialogue I just wanted him to know he was loved and Jesus was for him.
I think there are times in our faith when our mandate and calling is terrifying to us. It feels uncomfortable and nerve racking, but people are dying and many injustices are still happening. How many times do we look at a situation, hear a story, and do nothing but shake our heads? I learned yesterday it takes courage to build courage. It’s putting one foot in front of the other even if you are chewing a hole in your lip out of nerves while doing it. I wonder where we would be had a generation of young people been too afraid to go to school?
Courage is nestled in the everyday: going to school, visiting a sick person, telling people the truth. You build courage by being courageous, taking chances and seeing what happens.
I know I’m not a kid wading my way through an angry hate-spitting mob, but getting up the nerve to be courageous and bold is still a feat within itself. This is the power of the everyday, when we decide to do something scary and go step outside our comfort to stand for something we believe in.
A Place to Rest My Head
I’ve been working on getting a dedicated writing space set up in my new room. It’s been a journey of swallowing big chunks of blessing the last few months. Angie put up on our chalkboard wall you know it’s God when a blessing is almost too big to swallow. In the first few days of our move the evening hours would find us slumped on the couches staring at different spots on the wall trying to digest all we had done, all we were doing, and all we still had to go. As part of the package of the blessing from the Disney Princess House, I got a bigger room; a space where I could set up a dedicated writing area. After years of different positions on my bed, I’ve finally gotten myself an area to set a desk up.
Yesterday, I finally was able to buy what I needed to make this space reality. As we drove the three hours to IKEA, I bubbled over with enthusiasm. Each mile we barreled down I silently prayed out the window for the words and the stories for what I was about to write. When we got to the store we immediately started dumping items into our cart. When we got to my desk I had picked out online, I sat down and ran my hands over the top of the desk. I remember telling Ashley this was where I was going to write my book. I couldn’t believe it.
I’m learning I can talk about all the things I want to do in my life, but over the years nothing really changes unless I make room for it. I didn’t really notice I was making room for my writing until yesterday when I was standing in IKEA. There is a story in 1 Kings about a Shunnamite woman who made a room for Elijah on the roof of her house. When she was blessed with a son by the prophet she was overjoyed as she was unable to have children. Many years passed and one day, the woman’s son fell ill and died. She placed him in the prophet’s room and closed the door. She then left to visit where Elijah was to seek help. The story closes with Elijah returning with the woman and reviving the boy. I highly recommend the read, but the Shunnamite woman made room for something miraculous to happen in her house. She made a place to take her dream and lay it down even when she thought it was dead.
There are many times in my life I have thought my dream was dead, or at the very least so far off it was never attainable. It probably isn’t in my own strength, but I’ve made room for it to at least try. I still don’t have all the words for the book, I have no idea what stories will come out, and not the slightest thought for a title; but I know what it’s about, I know who it’s about, and I have made a place for it to come alive in my life. What do you need to make room for in your own life? Are there areas you keep wanting to get to but you feel like you just can’t get to it? I do and this desk doesn’t put all things in order, but it does allow me a place to put myself, focus on my gifting and see what happens.
Like the Shunnamite Woman, we can’t know what happens, but we can make a place where something miraculous can happen, a dead dream is a dead dream whether it be a son or a book – and they all need a place to lay their heads.
Sweets Sweeping Bubba
Tonight was cookie night at the Disney Princess house, our first “family” night since we moved in. The thing about family night with Angie’s people is she has about a million people. She has seven siblings and then her mother has 11, so when they do family events it entails 40+ people. My family on the other hand is us four and no more and whomever else we have in tow. I always thought I wanted to marry a man with a really big family, not anymore; I’m ok sticking with what I know in this area.
In an effort to get our house in order we have instituted the motto “Everybody Helps: You live here you help.” After five kids, four colors of icing, bowls of marshmallows, chocolate chips, and all the Christmas sprinkles the store had; we started getting baths and cleaning up. I started giving little jobs to the five-year old, Bubba. Now, Bubba’s name isn’t really Bubba, it’s actually William but when I met him he was three and insisted everyone call him Bubba. I have never called him anything differently. I gave Bubba a Swiffer Sweeper and started teaching him how to sweep with it. I don’t know why I thought I would be able to give it to him and just tell him to sweep. You mean kids aren’t just born knowing how to do this stuff? Really? After watching him almost knock himself out with the poled handle towering over his head I removed two links in the handle and it became the perfect size for him. However, this brilliant move didn’t relieve me to do something else, I realized I had to make a game out of it in teaching him and piles? Forget it, the best I could do was get him to sweep it straight at the wall and then we swept that up; but he did it. I was so proud of him and to be honest, tickled with myself! I actually communicated knowledge and skill to a kid and no one cried.
It’s amazing how much you have to teach a kid, but then I think it’s amazing how much I have to learn even still. Every day I have to decide to learn what I can to be good with these kids. I’m not their mom but I am someone in their life and I’m responsible with what I leave with them. It’s like that with everyone we meet. I want to be selfish and think about what I need and what I want, to be nasty because sometimes it feels easier than to take the effort to be nice. I am finding though, as I exert the effort to be patient and focused on what I am building into the people I’m closest with I find it becomes easier and easier. It is a choice though, to see them, to find a way to lead in my life and be led. Everyday I have to decide what I’m doing and it’s not always the easiest choice.
I was so proud of myself with Bubba today, but I was also proud of what we accomplished together. Kids will fool you though, as I was still basking in the glory of our accomplishment bed time came and he lost his cool and in suffering tears Bubba lugged himself to bed where he waited to be tucked in. Oh well, don’t dispise the day of small beginnings, right? You win some you lose some, but like today the wins are starting to be bigger than the losses.
High Heels and 10 on Wheels
“It’s what you do to make the days stand out,” is what most moved me in Donald Miller’s book A Million Miles in a Thousands Years. It’s funny the things you remember, I remember reading that on New Year’s eve two years ago. The next morning when I met my friends for a waffle breakfast, I insisted we get in the car and go to Williamsburg in an attempt to make the day stand out.
I remember this idea in so many occasions in my everyday, including my 10 Year Testimony Party. I don’t think a day has gone by since the party I haven’t talked about it in some form or fashion. It was a really special evening.
When I was getting ready for the party I was really nervous about it. It was a crazy idea and I was nervous I was going to fall on my face. The more I told people about it though, the more people connected to it. I was so excited, I hardly slept, I was up until almost 4 a.m. practicing, and then at the end of the day on a Saturday night God breathed on a party.
Basically, I just told my journey so far. I told where God started in my life up until the point where everything really changed and I started to not just love Jesus, but I started to really attempt to have a deeper relationship with him.
It was a powerful story for me to tell. I had never told it in its wholeness the way I did, I had never realized I had documented my entire conversion over the course of two weeks in journal entries. I learned I was in love with Jesus before I even knew who he was; and I learned I have seen this God dream I’ve had since I was about five and can’t remember a longer dream.
I didn’t really think about making the day stand out, I more thought about highlighting all God has done. Telling where I came from and saying where I had been. If you read this blog with any rhythm then you’ll start to pick up the season I’m in by the way I sort out some of the big things in my world. I tend to work a lot of things out through this blog. I think this has been the biggest season of my life; where huge plate shifting tremors of life have changed the terrain of my daily and I think I MAY be finding my solid footing and hitting a new stride. That said, sometimes you need a little extra encouragement and my pastor always says sometimes you have to throw yourself a party. I’m glad I listened to him. I needed to be encouraged to remember I am right on course and my party provided that. My friends shared in my story and reminded me I am exactly who I am aiming to be and still par for course and looking good on the journey – it was a wellspring of encouragement I greatly needed.
I guess what is most special about the night though is, we were encouraged by remembering all God has done so far. I think somehow in encouraging me it encouraged us all reminding us we were all on the journey and doing ok; it was a corporate night, one that wouldn’t have happened with out each one there. We joined together eager to see what could happen. There was literally a buzz in the air. I am so thankful I went ahead with an idea I was really nervous about. I am a bigger and better person because I took the time to ask for encouragement, to highlight the goodness of God and have my friends join their faith to mine and in the process we were all lifted up and walked out a bit taller. It was a unique night, one I’m thankful I was a part of, a day we made stand out together.
Following the Leader
I’m in the middle of planning my 10 year Testimony Party, I fully became a Christian ten years ago next month. In honor of this date I’m throwing the testimony party which is the first invitation-ed party I’ve had in years. In Revelation is talks about how people were saved by the testimony of their mouths and it’s got me thinking about what my testimony will be that night. What part of this long amazing and multifaceted journey do I want to highlight? I can’t do it all in one night; it’s ten years of glory upon glory. Even for me, the most elaborate of story tellers, it’s a lot to cover.
I’m excited by many things about this party. I’m excited to see what will come of it, I love how I can laugh at its ridiculousness, but I remember Pastor Steve preaching about how God starts with the ridiculous to get the miraculous. I want to see something different; I want to make the day stand out. I’m excited about its possibility.
I spent a good part of these 10 years thinking I wasn’t doing it good enough, as if the journey was this routine of perfection I was being scored on. I had to get to heaven with a perfect 10 or I’d be not as good and therefore miss his attention. Now though, there is no question. I am fully sold out to the cause of Christ and I am full on. This is how I am.
I’ve spent far too long being bound and boxed in by the opinion of others and what I thought it should look like, instead of just being good with the truth of what it is. These perspectives restrict everything and I hate that feeling. I have a sticky hanging from my monitor at work that reads No Apologies, No Plan B’s, Be good with being you. Even though I feel like this party is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, oh well, maybe it will be silly, and maybe no one will show up. I feel like this is what makes us different though; the things we’re willing to do that seem crazy in exchange for the possibility of something really great.
This morning I read Psalm 63:8 where it says, my soul follows close behind you. I read that and thought, my soul really does follow close behind you. What I was moved by with the scripture is; though I’m still a wreck and God is still working some core fundamental things within me, my soul still follows close behind him, and really that’s what I want most. I want him never to have to come looking for me.
I don’t know my point other than I like the revelation that my soul follows close behind him. My hope is it’s so close if he were to stop short, I’d bump into him.
Black & Silver
As I was starting to stir awake this morning, I started considering changing my handbag over to one of my more winter styled handbags. While I was taking mental inventory to make my choice I found myself thinking, I wish I had a nice black and silver purse. I have a lovely black and gold bag I received as a gift, but nothing with silver. However, once I got out of bed I promptly forgot I was thinking of changing my bag over, got ready for church, and left with my teal bag I’ve been carrying for weeks.
I met my mother for brunch after church and while eating she told me she had some stuff in the car for me. After we paid our bill and left, I followed her out to her car where she had a box in the back seat. My Aunt Linda, who lives in Memphis, had sent a package and there were a couple of handbags for me to look at and see if I wanted. She pulled out the two bags in the box and one of them was a really lovely, good-as-new, black leather purse will silver snaps, buckles, and zippers. It was perfect.
All afternoon I kept thinking about how I was just thinking about wanting a black and silver purse this morning! As I was changing my purse contents over to their new home I was impressed by the truth, God cares about the smallest details of our lives; evidenced by my new purse.
There are many details in my life I am working on: finding a new place to live, working on a book, and getting all the money needed for Russia in time, to name a few. They are all things God cares about. Sometimes I think I can get caught up in the doing of life and I miss that God wants to be intimately involved in the details of my life. Sometimes, I get lost in God’s great big “God-ness.” I am reverent toward his magnitude which sometimes disqualifies him in my mind as my intimate friend, but the details of my life add together like the days do creating a year. I tend to look big picture and miss the details, but it’s nice to be reminded he’s in the little stuff too.
I think that’s an important thing to remember and foster, sharing the details with God; he’s sweet to us and has good things for us. If we remember to invite him in to the small parts of our lives we will get to see him love us in personally specific ways. He loves us; he’s got good things for us, even lovely leather black and silver purses.
I’m also thankful for generous Aunt’s who clean out their closet and think of me!
A Wing and a Prayer
I have been to Russia multiple times; my first trip was in November of 2002 with Bill Techanchuk, leading the way on every one of these trips. Twice a year a team of 12-23 people would lead a camp at either an orphanage or a city camp for teens. Which is what I did, I’m not so great with the young ones. Over the years the program shifted and our church now sponsors an orphanage called Lakinsk where it’s an emersion of orphanage, technical school, and foster families all in one. It’s been a wildly successful program and two weeks ago I was invited to go to Lakinsk for the dedication of a wing to honor Bill.
I knew in less than 24 hours I was finding a way to go back to Russia, I had prayed to get to go on one more trip with Bill. Though this isn’t what I had in mind when does anything ever happen the way we “think” it’s going to be? You can plan and plan, but life still does whatever it wants.
Everything just came together. Bill used to say when we were raising our money over the months, “it’s his will it’s his bill” This time everything was His bill, I was able to get the time off of work, and once I was confirmed to go I had to come up with $1000 in 10 days for my deposit. What?! That’s a crazy amount of money in a short amount of time. Last week I saw all the money come in, in the course of three days. Really, it’s amazing what can happen when you just sit back and let God be God. All I did was send out an email to my friends. It’s wonderful to have friends, and amazing what people will do for you when they love you and see a common goal in front of them.
Be thankful for the ones you have. We lift and push each other to places of greatness we could never get to on our own. Like I always say rise or fall, sink or swim, we all are connected together. We have more say over the fate of our neighbor than any other force. With out the people in my world I would not be going to Russia. I’m thankful my friends and family chose to love me in this endeavor. I’m thankful for a friendship and mentorship with Bill that was recognizably close allowing me the honor of being one of the people invited to attend. I’m thankful for my life.
This was a big moment of great reward, but it is firmly rooted in the small moments of friendships I’ve built into my life. My life is only as successful as the people in my world. Find your place, dig in deep, love like there’s no tomorrow, and go to Russia as least once in your life in the summer time.
Owner of a Lonely Heart
While sitting in the waiting room at Tru Massage, where I get trigger point therapy for my back I was scrolling though my twitter feed trying to avoid a conversation with the perky woman to my right.
At first I dismissed her comments trying to stay engrossed in my phone, then I heard something say, put your phone down. I kept scrolling when I clearly heard, Put your phone down. Reluctantly still, I put my phone down on the table. I sat quietly watching the TV splashing pictures of flowing streams and woodland views over flute type music; thinking, perhaps I just was supposed to put my phone down.
I wait a minute and start to grab for my phone again when I hear no and pull my hand back. I sit for another quiet moment thinking I put the phone down she had her opportunity to engage and she didn’t. I didn’t feel like I needed to start the conversation, but I did feel like I needed to be available to listen if she did. As soon as I gave in and grabbed my phone she started talking.
She reveals she is in the military, stationed here since “oh nine” and really only has three friends who are stationed elsewhere or on deployment currently. She mentions she’s looked into some singles groups for some speed dating, but hasn’t been successful. I can see how lonely she is.
The thing is we are all that lonely, and when you’re that lonely, you will try and fill it with things you imagine will quench the ache we all walk around with. I tell her I don’t know anything about any singles groups, but I do go to a decent sized church and she could meet some people. Her face lifted with hope. Sunday she is planning on coming to church.
I wanted to stay buried in my phone and not even acknowledge her, but I just told a friend today in email I love people. How can I really love people if I clearly ignore the woman really trying to connect with me? I’m glad I put the phone down. It’s a good reminder; if we want to see people then we need to look at them. Sometimes, I feel like my life is being swallowed by my phone. I don’t want to live my life through a social network and fail to connect with the physical people around me. If I want to see people, I have to actually look at them.
Event Horizon
There are things in our lives we have to deal with. We all have our “demons” we battle. Some are worn on the outside and are more visible to others and some are only known on the inside where we keep it nicely hidden in boxed compartments of our character tucked away in the back praying nothing ever goes snooping back there. Let alone ourselves!
Christ didn’t hang on a cross so I can keep my boxes sealed up tight like a hoarder filling my heart with useless lies that make it hard to navigate. When these things come to the surface in an opportunity for growth opening the box is scary. Sometimes I look at my boxes as if they were the event horizon containing black holes and if I were to open them I would instantly be swallowed by the gravity of its weight; forever engulfed by the darkness of its contents. What’s crazier still, is often if I open a box and realize it won’t swallow me, I notice there is an even larger box behind that one and I look at it with the same trepidation as I did before. Despite, the blazing truth I just unfolded in the previous box.
The greatest thing I have learned in the last two years is God is innately good. The more I allow the truths, whatever they may look like, to freely be exposed the more I know there is healing and wholeness on the other side of the journey. When I start to clean my room it often looks worse before it gets better. Things are strewn about as I redistribute the piles of mess around for everything to find its place. My heart is often like that as well, but just like my room as I continue to sift through the piles they decrease in size and I start to see the floor again. Knowing this “mess” in my heart doesn’t come from a condemning God who is angry with me, but really stems out of my broken humanity and every one of us, believer or not, is in the midst of the mess of our humanity. Your faith practice never eliminates you from the identity of human.
The encouraging part is I am a masterpiece, a holy work of outstanding artistry, skill, and workmanship of the father. My purpose didn’t start with haphazard brush strokes slapped on a canvas waiting to see what was created, I was started with a finished completion in mind. Knowing this makes the boxes a little less daunting and I remember though it feels as though I’m embarking on the point of no return, no black hole can ever capture and jail his light. His light cast no shadow and reveals things in boxes.
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