faith

Watching a Master

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I can’t remember whether my Dad was my superhero when I was little.  Well, I mean, except the time that I found out he was visiting Santa Claus to give him my Christmas list.  My Dad, friends with Santa Claus.  Delivering my list in person.  Definitely hero status that day.

But what I do know is that he’s mMe & Popsy hero now.  We went through the typical hate-each-other-phase in my teen years (okay, I was more the hater than he, but what teenager isn’t?).  We’ve survived the mutual eye-rolling contests during my years of becoming wise beyond my years (ahem, I do have the degree to show for it).  And we’ve laughed hysterically over the traits that I’ve inherited from him.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Today I got to spend a whole day with him while he worked.  I honestly can’t remember the last time that happened, just he and I.  All at once, I was taken back in time to the days I’d spent with him as a kid on the job site he was building.  Then, as now, he’d let me pretend to help.  I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty awesome with a tape measure.

Today I got to see a master at work.  The way my Dad can see a building, envision its potential, and creatively use space is fascinating.  He’s a genius.  And it’s always fun to watch a genius work.

When a genius works, it’s like a machine operating at its precise rythym, every gear complimenting the other.  It’s like a song perfectly on pitch.  It’s like a poem, one whose author is the only one who knows which line is coming next, and then when you hear it, you agree:  Yes, that was precisely right, that was the next line.

Now this may all sound a little, well, overly poetic for a daddy-daughter-work-day filled with construction and inspections and homerepairs at hand – but really, it was beautiful.

It was a beautiful reminder that when a Master works, you stop and take notice.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been with my Dad on a job site, so it’s been a long time since I’ve remembered his Mastery.

In the same vein, I’m prone to forget my heavenly Father’s mastery.  I forget that He’s actually really good at what He does.  I try to help Him, and just like the “help” I provide with a tape measure, I probably get in His way more times than not.  But when I pay attention to His work, it’s genius.  It doesn’t seem so at every moment – in fact, there is a plethora of things I’d redo or undo if I was the Master Designer of this Universe filled with suffering – but when I look, when I pay attention, when I spend the day on one of his job sites, I often discover a result more beautiful than I could have envisioned.

How have you been reminded lately of God’s mastery?

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Sometimes I Forget to Eat

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Sometimes I forget to eat.  It’s not that I don’t like to eat.  I love food.  I mean, really, love it.  But the day starts, then keeps going.  A phone call here, an email there, and a bunch of just-need-to-get-this-one-thing-done moments.  You know, like checking my Facebook status and making sure I haven’t missed anything new on Instagram.  Important things.

I don’t just love food itself.  I love the experience of food.  I am not a fancy cook and my taste buds aren’t overly cultured, but my favorite food is one I get to enjoy.  I hate eating on the go.  No time to savor.  I have a pre-planned “last bite” with every meal:  the bite to end all bites.   The grand finale.  The taste that the rest of the meal has been working up towards.  Even if the meal is a bean and cheese burrito, I strategize to make sure that the last bite has just the right blend of bean, cheese, and tortilla.  I’m not making this up.

So sometimes I forget to eat.  Or better said, I keep pushing it back because the setting isn’t ideal.  Because I don’t have room to savor.  There are days that I end up not eating at all until dinner.  And everyone knows what a hungry woman is like.  I get cranky, and fidgety, and annoyed.  I have no margin.  Forget savoring, the carnivore must be fed.

My husband gets after me about this, mainly because he is the one the monster lashes out at in moments of extreme hunger.  He believes in preventive plans of attack:  He tells co-workers to make sure I take a lunch break, and will regularly text to see if I remembered breakfast.  I’ve gotten better.  Truly.  I have given in to eating breakfast bars and other on-the-go items out of necessity.  And I admit, it makes me a much nicer person.

Funny that someone can love food so much but still forget to eat it.

Well I forget to feed my soul, too.  I love Jesus.  I love His Word.  I love His creation.  But I wait for ideal moments to sit down and savor, and sometimes, I forget to “eat.”  I forget how much it matters to see the ocean.  I forget how much it matters to be still.  I forget how much it matters to read Scripture.  I forget how much it matters to write and process in my journal.  I forget how much it matters to get outside for fresh air and fun.

When I forget, I get cranky and lethargic and altogether restless.  It’s my soul’s way of saying “I’m hungry, feed me.”

So it’s time to eat.  Even if it’s on-the-go.  Yesterday I took one simple hour at the beach.  Today I dug into God’s Word again.  In a few minutes I’ll head outside for a late morning walk and take in the colorful trees and lawn decorations that adorn my cute town.  Oh, but first I need to eat breakfast …

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