The Perfect Fit

Seating for 14! Let the table setting begin!

It was Tuesday before I realized what I had done.  Fortunately, I cancelled every appointment scheduled, in order to prepare for Thanksgiving. I awoke to a to-do list which equaled the depth of my laundry pile.  After an unsuccessful quiet time, wherein I supposedly focused on the Lord to find peace, I apologized to Jesus, poured myself a cup of tea and looked around my home.  The entire house was catawampus. The bible verse "Jesus wept" sprang immediately to mind as I surveyed the destruction.  Congratulating myself for being so spiritually minded, I walked into my dining area.

The space is about 10’ ½ by 9’ ½ , walled with 2 entrance points.  It was constructed long before the “open concept” kitchen was born.  I loved the room, but that morning as I wrote down the names of my guests, I wondered how everyone was going to fit.  Fourteen people needed to sit at the table.  Mine sat eight.  I needed seating for six more.  Looking around my dining room, I wondered how to pull this off.  I chewed my pencil.  “Jesus wept,” My subconscious quoted.  I rebuked myself.  I looked at the list.  I was missing something.  I reviewed the names again, when it dawned on me.  Half of my dinner guests were 6’ or taller.  “Jesus is weeping,” my subconscious quoted, changing the form in order to make scripture more applicable.  I groaned, stood up and called my girls for a family meeting.

I explained the challenge before us.  We sipped our tea, brain stormed and prayed.  “Lord Jesus, there is no way for this to work.  Have mercy and help us. Show us how to get this done, because it’s impossible.”  As the girls set to work cleaning, I texted my nearest and dearest to ask for chairs and a card table.  One girl friend directed me to another, as I had stolen her extra folding chairs earlier that week.  Girlfriend two had the card table and I whipped out to pick it up, as well as extra chairs because she has so many I feel obligated to borrow them. 

When I returned, the dining room was cleared.  My girls know how to get things done.  We had a blank canvas for Jesus’ coming miracle of spatial orientation.  For the next two hours, we shuffled card tables and chairs in an attempt to gain extra seating space.  As fatigue increased, we were less willing to listen to each other’s suggestions.  We began talking over each other and squabbling broke out.  I was feeling pretty desperate.  I considered seating guests in two rooms, when one of the girls reminded me “God could do it.”  I sent up another prayer, “Lord help.  Honestly, we are so stuck.”  It was lame but it was all I had.  Setting back to work, I kept my mouth shut and allowed the kids to take a turn at directing.  Five minutes later my 14 yr old struck gold.  “What about if we shift the table this way?” She asked.  We looked at each other in stunned silence.  Suddenly, the room placement fell together.    The miracle of seating fourteen was suddenly made possible.  As we placed chairs and name cards, I was gripped with pleasure.  Granted, we had swapped traditional seating placement for a funky café style affair, but it was done.   I sang an impromptu ode to our greatness and thanked the Lord profusely. 

That evening, as my daughters downloaded their day with Dad, I considered how long it took to us to reach our goal.  We had planned, measured and done everything  to make the chairs fit, but the experience of moving furniture around the space was essential for success.  Success couldn’t be separated from the hard work.  Our breakthrough wouldn’t have come without 2 full hours of highly organized failure.    

Are you any good at thanking the Lord for the process my friend?  Or do you, like me, get exasperated easily?  Somewhere in my carnal nature is a hard wired circuit.  I believe if I pray and ask God for help, answers should drop from the sky like rain.  At times I have no understanding why God doesn’t answer my questions simply.  I put my name on the prayer chain, why did it take me 3 months to find a good doctor?   My small group prayed for my budget, why couldn’t I find the best refinancing deal possible?  We prayed and researched getting a new car and bought a lemon, why didn’t you tip me off?  These questions and a million more betray my heart.  I want what I ask for without a fuss.  Am I sounding like a spoiled beast yet?  

I want a Santa God.

As the holiday season unfolds, I’m asking for conviction.  Straight up repentance for the subtle ways I’m out to get from God, trying to bend Him to my will, as opposed to engaging in the relationship he offers. And I’ll be thinking of you my friend, as you encounter problems along your pathway.  That you will stay patient as the pieces shift, kind as you work with those around you, and able to endure until you discover the resolution He has planned.

I’m praying for you this week,

xoxKaren 

A Camel in a Crisis

Curley, the awesome camel

Hello Friend!

I did get your message and yes, I’ve been absent lately.  I apologize.  Since September, I’ve found myself in a peculiar season of transition.  Have you ever felt like your life doesn’t fit?  No matter what I do, I fight a sense of things being incomplete.  Add election madness and the death of Leonard Cohen and you have a Canadian mid-life crisis in the making.  It’s hard to write when tears have taken up residence behind your eyelids.  I’m never quite certain when I will set myself off.  The other day I was talking to a dear soul who is sending her daughter off on her first mission trip sans Mama.  The conversation turned into a counseling session wherein I had to be glued back together because the enormity of children growing up and leaving home just about swallowed me whole.  After presenting myself as a functional yet completely unhinged adult, I went home and considered joining a book club.  I came to my senses a few hours later and decided I needed to take a break.  Which is why, this week, I’m leaving behind all the stress and brokenness to focus on camels.

Sensible yes?

I love camels.

My favorite camel is a fellow named Curley.  In truth, he’s the only camel I’m in contact with these days.  He shows up in a local nursery every Christmas season and when he does, I go out of my way to visit him. Many times.  Frequently.  I first met Curley in 2013.  Life at that time was saturated in despair.  My family got caught up in the economic downturn and was one of the last to recover.  Loss, grief, death, perseverance and the mystery of unanswered prayer created a thick cloud over my family which was difficult to penetrate.  My only respite was found when I left the flat to woggle.  (Not running, not jogging, more an attempt at self-propulsion in an oxygen deprived state.)  For those moments, trying to breathe replaced the gloom.  On an afternoon run, when I had gotten myself well and truly lost, I happened across a nursery that had dressed up for Christmas.  Curious, I wandered inside.   

My visit to this garden center was a gift given at exactly the right time.  I walked inside and found refuge from the confusion that was my life.  With benches everywhere, I was able to sit outside and enjoy the trees and lights, people and peace without needing to interact with anyone directly.  After half an hour of wandering, I found myself by the edge of a coy pond when a young child walked by and told her mother she was ready to visit the camel.  Given that camels are not a regular sight in Seattle, I followed the pink, fleece-clad tour guide, to catch a glimpse of him.  

It’s hard to explain the next half hour.

There, in a hay covered stall stood Curley.  Camels are very large creatures and He was majestic.  At that moment he was holding court.  His minions, excited toddlers, were given pieces of brown bread to feed to his Majesty, should he stoop down to their level to accept their offerings: which he did.  If the whole experience had been about watching a camel eat bread, I might have tired of the affair.  Thankfully, it was so much more.  Curley was a camel with attitude.  A discerning eye might have caught the warning sign, stating that Curley had reach.  To be frank, camels have amazing mouths.  Their top lip is spit and both halves work independently to enable the camel to grasp his food.  Or in this case, slices of bread as well as the hats, scarves and mittens of small children.  The child would offer the bread, Curley would bend down to take it slowly, the child would then turn to mother and squeal with delight, at which point Curley would take full advantage of any unprotected body part to try to munch off any accessory he could get his mouth on.  The end result would be a shouting toddler, a laughing mother and a smug looking camel.  

It was delightful.  For that half hour, my darkness stood back as I watched Gods' creation on display.  A strangely shaped behemoth in need of an attitude adjustment, trying to steal hats from children.  The sheer silliness of it was balm to my frayed heart.    

As we launch into Thanksgiving and Christmas, my prayer for you dear friend, is that God would pierce the area that causes you despair.  There are many, many things wrong with our world today.  Few feel comfortable with the state of society on our small planet.   If we will set our hearts and minds towards thankfulness in the midst of a broken world, we will be more able to see and receive blessings.  It might be a simple visit from a loved one, a precious moment of clarity with a mind clouded by disease, or a ridiculous moment with a family pet.  These blessings, when strung together, have seen many a soul through dark and frightening times.

So I wish you a thoughtful Thanksgiving my friend.  That the Lord would give you the gift of a thankful heart.  A thankful heart is a good vehicle.  Like a camel, a thankful heart can navigate dry lands, steep hills and a tiresome journey.   It has the ability to go the distance with little support and encouragement.  But most importantly, a thankful heart is an oasis to those who are travelling on a broken road toward home.

I’m praying for you this week,

xoxKaren