By Degrees, The Separation

It is 59 degrees.

I am ecstatic. Though we live in Florida and heat is just part of the job description here, it is mid-October and we have just experienced the hottest, longest heat wave in as long as I can remember. Usually at this time of year it is at least in the mid 80's, though often in the high 70's. But we have had July heat around here and there is no one who has been more affected by it than me.

I am Autumn's biggest fan. When I woke up this morning, I could just sense that it was cool outside. You don't believe me. You will have to verify with my husband that I have a sixth sense about weather. Sometimes I can smell the rain coming - I will run outside, sniff the air like a dog, and announce to anyone listening that "rain is imminent, I smell it!" Of course, the first time I did this, Derek didn't believe me. He made fun of me. But when it started to pour 20 minutes later, I watched the amazement on his face with relish. Never again has he mocked my weird ability to ascertain precipitation or temperatures or clouds...So this morning, as soon as I woke up and felt the cold air outside pressing against my window, I asked him to open every window in the house.

For awhile, the kids weren't sure what to do with this new freedom they had been granted. Open windows meant the world could hear what was said if they yelled loud enough and so, for a while, Lane (4 year old) stood in front of his open window in his underwear and yelled "Helloooo", hoping to get a response. When that didn't happen, all three kids practiced smashing their faces against the screens. Then they started running in and out of the sliding glass doors and knocking on all the windows from the outside, trying to freak each other out. Since that can only be entertaining for a limited amount of time, they got bored and decided to do laps around the house. They have a circuit that they run, it goes: around the kitchen island, around the wall that divides the kitchen from dining room, around the island again, down the hallway, into the office, jump over the chair or something else, back down the hallway, and repeat. Meanwhile, Derek was outside mowing the grass and I was sitting in bed with my coffee and a sloppy grin on my face. Every so often a blur of a child would run by my bedroom door (which is off the dining room), accompanied by much laughter and yelling. They like the cold air as much as I do.
What is it about a mere change in temperature that excites me? Why do I feel a sudden reinforcement in strength, what is it about fall that dusts off and shines up my hope? I think it has something to do with the definite signal of a change of seasons. Not just physically, but mentally and spiritually. Maybe it's the matching up of my outsides with my indsides. I have different seasons of the heart. Different seasons in my circumstances, in my relationship with God, Derek, my children, friends. Different paces of busyness, different weather in my writing. I even have different cookbook seasons. :)

So perhaps it is the feeling of being more aligned with my outer surroundings that gives me a newfound buoyancy in my soul. I've always loved seasons. I've always loved the gentle dropping away of something old and well used and the moving forward to something shiny and new, totally undiscovered and mysterious. Living in Florida doesn't allow me much opportunity to feel the outer seasons harmonizing with the inner ones, but when those times do come, I feel so grateful. One day, I hope to live somewhere with all four seasons. To have four separate outer starting and finish lines each year is something I have a strong and inexplicable desire for. In Florida we only have the heat and the fickle cold fronts that populate the October to May months. It's beautiful here, and I enjoy my garden year round but after awhile the constant heat and the monotony of season sameness can burrow deep into your optimism and start to germinate into small veins of despair. Despite the best efforts of blooming where I am planted, I sometimes find my "leaves" wilting.

As I get dressed on this (for us with thin skin) chilly fall morning, I thank God for each simple pleasure he built this world with. Each tiny miracle, each day that passes, each season and change of temperature is a gift, a joy, an occasion to rise to, a mystery wrapped up beautifully and, sometimes so personally that it seems it was made just for me. I am off to the craft store this morning to find paper for fall cards. I need no pictures of leaves in northern states, or fantasies conjured up about sweaters and seeing my breath in the air, I need read no fellow bloggers comments about the oranges and browns in their front yard. No, I have my own inspiration for today's cards, derived directly from the world in my front yard.

As I walk down the sidewalk toward my car, I take in all the fun around me. The kids are wearing all manner of creatively combined "winter clothes, Mommy". Derek and Lane (4) are at the side of the house, trying to find a tiny black snake that they have discovered and that disappeared a moment ago. They are afraid Derek might have run it over with the lawn mower. Carson (7) is standing across the street at the edge of the woods with her back to us swinging a basket full of dead wet leaves and singing something, I can't hear what. Matthew (3) is crouched by the front flower bed, wearing his bike helmet, and a hood over that, and picking grass and putting it in a sand bucket.

I slide into the front seat, start the car and back down the drive, still sloppily grinning, still offering thanks for all of these blessings: the wonder of childhood that spins around me every day, the beauty of a marriage steeped in unconditional love and grace, the love of a God who calls me by name and knows the number of hairs on my head, the fun and fulfillment of making something as silly as a card to celebrate the weather, and the non-eternally significant change in temperature. Yes, these things are small and normal, but for someone like me, they are enough. It is simply enough to have the rare and wonderful affirmation of my inner and outer weather walking hand in hand.

The Greenest Version

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

How often have I heard this expression? How often have I said it? How often have I nodded my head in assent as it fell off another's lips with certainty and nonchalance?
How many times have I felt the discontentment, envy, cynicism or resignation that is wrapped up in this statement?What about you?
Think about life as dirt, with certain seeds that were placed there when I was created, before my birth (Ephesians 2:10).These seeds are the gifts and abilites, the choices, the opportunities and relationships that I would inevitably and undeservedly walk into by merely being born. I picture them waiting there for water and sun and eventual germination. Some of them grow right away, others grow slowly and need a little fertilization, some are not meant to flower until enough time and experience has passed, and some will never grow unless I pointedly cultivate and discipline them.
In me, these seeds are accompanied by an incessant and often secret thirst to pursue them to their most excellent end. I long to be in bloom, to stretch my mind, heart and soul to the very ends of my God-given abilities, to dive deeply into each appointed relationship, to make the most of each moment I am given. I seek to discover the trick of dropping off those unfruitful or weedy or bug-infested propensities that "so easily entangle me and run with endurance the race that is set before me..." (Hebrews 12:1). I am driven to be a garden in thriving vigor, succumbing to the beauty of each season with grace and humility.
Instead of always looking at my neighbor's lawn with anything but kindness and celebration for their very green grass, why not determine to have it all? Why not live a life full of life? Why not embrace who I am, what I've been through, and who I was meant to be? Why not be thankful for my particular handful of seeds, and why not grow and thrum and sing in the time that I have?

In being born, I have been given dirt. And seeds. The water and sun has been provided in many ways. The growth is up to me. I can choose to be a plot of dirt bereft of flower and color, with drooping stems and jealous roots. I can be average and settle for lesser growth and thinner heart and lighter fruit-bearing.
Or I can come to life, fill out superbly, accept the self that was fearfully and wonderfully made for a purpose and reach roots and stems and petals to the utmost of their longings and to the outskirts of possibility.
This blog, my new fun, has been named The Greenest Version. As I write about my faith, my marriage, motherhood, creative pursuits, the daily routine, doubts, struggles and victories, may you be inspired to the same determination.
May we insist on being chunks of sod infused with real growth and new growth, with bravery for each season, with love for the us that was made, and with surrender to a wildly creative and hugely huge God. May we live our best life and be the best version of what was intended at our very beginning.
May we be The Greenest Version.

The On-shelf Ingredients

I love to cook. It is one of my favorite things to do. You can often find me in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards, analyzing ingredients, consulting cookbooks and generally making a huge mess that I hope to convince Derek to clean up.

But the end result is usually worth it. I summon every ounce of my creativity when cooking. I build new recipes based on knowledge of what goes together and what might. I use the foundation of past cooking experiences to branch out into new methods and to try new ingredients. And most of the time, although not that time I made Pasta Puttanesca - just ask Derek, his facial expression alone will tell all, but most of the time it all comes out good, or better yet, delicious. Sometimes I use a recipe and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I measure and sometimes I wing it. Sometimes I substitute ingredients and sometimes I am a nazi about what goes into certain dishes. But there is always one constant. I only use what I have. Obviously it makes no sense to do otherwise. Why in the world would I attempt spaghetti and meatballs if I had no meat or pasta in my pantry? Why would I make orange juice if I had no oranges? It would be ridiculous. I have started working on a favorite recipe before only to realize I didn't have all the ingredients. How annoying to have to throw out half-done cake batter, knowing the eggs will never make it for the time it will take to get the kids in the car and go get the missing ingredients.

I wonder if our lives are the same in some ways. We have these ingredients, for whatever reason, but we refuse to cook with them. Or, we try to make something in our lives when we have none of what is required for that thing. We don't like our ingredients. We want different ones. I have often fixated on an ability I didn't have, such as singing - I've always wanted to sing and absolutely cannot - and have devalued an ability that I did have. How many times have I desperately wished to be good at singing when the whole time Whitney Houston wished she could write a blog....kidding!

Some of us are witty, or deep. Derek is incredibly funny, a gift I've often envied. Some of us are slightly melancholy, or really tall, or kind of clumsy. And others are a little odd. These are differences and giftings that should be beautiful, in much the same way that a dish with layered, complex flavors tastes - delicious! But often it seems not to be good enough. We aren't satisfied with the spices we've been handed. The type of veggies we're sporting just aren't good enough. We'd rather have Chicken Parmisan than Beef Curry. We assume an attitude of discontentment and it seems that anything would be better than what we have, anywhere better than here.

I talk to people constantly who are so dissatisfied with who, where and what they are that they can barely think past it. Instead of using the ingredients on-shelf, they believe they were intended to have totally different ones, although this isn't very logical. Or worse yet, they break their own hearts trying to be something that doesn't fit them. If you've ever watched the American Idol auditions then you know exactly what I mean by that. What if you weren't supposed to have different ingredients? Let's pretend the lousy public speaking ability, the boring job, the struggles of talking too fast or being ungifted athletically or the intense shyness are all a part of the stew of you. What if this specific thing you struggle with, this thing that you constantly wish to change is just a part of the process? Maybe the best place to learn contenment is right smack dab in the middle of the country of dissatisfaction. I have to ask myself if I'm chasing after things that aren't really that important and putting the most valuable endeavors of my life on the back burner in order to pursue these empties. What if we should accept the place that we are, understand the moment we live in, with the people that accompany us? Is all this craze our culture has with "abilities" really just a clever distraction to keep me from a life of quality rather than quantity?

I'm not referring to ambition, goals, the detriment of staying in horribly poisonous relationships, or the foolishness of bad choices. I understand the need for these things to be fulfilled, righted, or usually in the case of toxic relationships, fled. But most of us are complaining about at least a couple of perfectly good ingredients, swearing that if only we had a little more of this or less of that we'd be good. A favorite Bible verse of mine, 2 Peter 1:3 states that God, "according as His divine power has given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness, through the knowledge of him that has called us to glory." For me, it is a huge relief to realize the perfect ingredients for my utter fulfillment are already there, wrapped up with the gift of Redemption. What if the secret to being happy is not so complex as we might think? What if it's as simple as gratitude and willingness to use what already lies in our ability?

As a child of God you're spicy enough, deep enough, tall enough, uncool enough, cool enough. You're enough. Maybe you should stop trying to force oregano into your personality when you clearly have a soul of basil. :)

You may have ended up in a bland season of life, but you are never out of the hands of your Heavenly Father. He intended a life full of taste for you...He had a recipe in mind when He made you and He'd like for you to let Him do the cooking. He intended for your unique self to reach out to the world beyond and mix that interesting set of flavors you have with all the other ones.

You were meant to be fusion food. :)