Sleek, Smooth, Silver and Blue Pen

I am sitting at my desk today, blending into the cubicle just like I am another fixture. No different than the other drones click clacking away on their computers. I think I am starting to look like my beige colored file cabinet or the stack of yellow sticky notes. I look down at the pile of things I am behind on and instantly feel the weight of the stack on my shoulders. It will surely continue to numb my brain and keep me barred down as another one of the drones.
On the pile sits my one year anniversary gift. A sleek, smooth, silver and blue, reminder of my year of dedication and hard work. A sleek, smooth, silver and blue, pen. Of course printed on it is the company name. Turning myself into a clone and a permanent fixture of the cubicle, hours away from home, only breaking away to run to the bathroom, or grab so sorry excuse for lunch, I get a pen. Oh yeah, I get paid too, so maybe it's an even trade.
I roll the pen back and forth across the pile and wonder what good am I doing? What am I really giving? Who am I really benefiting? I'm not sure. I thought I knew at one time. I thought before it was what you put out that mattered. But I am looking at the stack next to me, rolling the pen across, and I am wondering all over again who I really am benefiting. Who I really am beneath the stack and pen.
I struggle to keep my individuality alive. I need to, I don't want to get lost in the very stack that is pressing in on me. Pictures in my cube of what really matters to me. Short emails to my friends where I add clipart of lovely flowers and pictures to brighten their days. Colorful artwork from my son lining the walls of my cubicle/tomb. Small trinkets that keep me reminded of who I am, the coffee cup I bought myself for my birthday. The small giraffe figurine from the time we took Joey to the zoo and the emails I send to myself from home, loaded with pictures of my boys. And when I am feeling really beige like the file cabinet, I call my husband on his cell phone and just hearing his voice turns me back into the pink color I normally am.
But in the back of mind, even when I push it back behind all the other thoughts and list of things that need to be done, and back behind the schedule, the memories, and educational tips, is that nagging thought that I am not doing any benefit to anyone. Maybe I always think I need to live on a bigger scale, I forget it is the small details in life that really matter. Making chicken soup for sick neighbors and putting band aids on tiny tiny scrapes, just to make it feel better. Taking your kids to the park and pausing for a moment in the kitchen at home to tell your husband how much you admire him, or glance out the window and the beautiful Iris in your garden.
Some people get to live big lives, and benefit hundreds of thousands. I live a small life, where my sphere of influence is much smaller and once in awhile I have to remember that my sphere is just as important as the rest.
So I see the sleek, smooth, blue and silver pen imprinted with the company name, and realize that it has such little significance, but so much can come from it. A love note, signing the last check for your mortgage, writing an epic novel, filling in a birthday card, or signing your name to your hard work.
"The key is not to change what you do, but to change your attitude toward what you do. When you being doing these tasks, realize that you are doing them for God. Use it an opportunity to worship Him through acts of service. When you do, you will discover pleasure even in taking out the trash.." -Joel Osteen

Fruit of the Spirit: Self-Control

Self-control is included in the list of fruits of the Spirit. Self-control. The Holy Spirit does not do all the controlling for us. He requires us to act. He helps us, but He expects us to cooperate. If we begin each day by an acknowledgement of our dependence upon Him, and our intention to obey Him, He will certainly help us.- Elisabeth Elliot

If there is one thing I am lacking is self-control. I struggle with it, who doesn't? Control what I say, what I eat, how I live. Self-control is an immeasurable asset. It is one thing I struggle to have and I have seen the aftermath of my lack of self-control.
A fruit of the spirit.....good thought. Fruit is what is grown when the tree becomes ready. Fruits of our labor, fruitfulness, the ability to produce. Self-control is a fruit of the spirit. Good one. "Fruit" for thought.

Galatians 5: 22But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 24Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. 25Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. 26Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.

Trees to Climb

They have been standing so long. They define the landscape and touch the sky. Immobile giants offering us shade, a place to hide, a place to day dream, place to climb, a place to rest and imagine our cares away. Branches like veins stretching reaching up into the sky. Waving and dancing, please look at me. Feel me, breath me in, take me in, sway with me.

Each branch, adorned in every shade of green, trillions of green colored coins covering the stable trunk, coins that eventually turn to yellow, red, gold, and orange in the fall. And eventually fall to the ground, to be raked and piled, and rolled around in by kids of all ages. The laughter, the smell, the sound, lingers in my senses, even after the first flakes of snow begin to fall, and the trees retreat to a hard gray shell of what they were just a short time ago.
Spring appears, and each dead looking branch, begins anew. Exploding in new life, ready to shade you, comfort you, ready for you to climb again. Ready for a new year, and new life to blossom.
War today, destruction today, fire today, hate today. Tornado, hurricane, avalanche, will we survive it all? More soldiers killed, more innocent people killed, buildings being blown apart, all in the name of peace. I don't see peace in the eyes of loved ones whose child was killed while defending this peace.
Will that tree be there tomorrow for me to see the cycle of life again? Will my sons climb them, see them, feel them, smell them, and hide in their shade?
I can't answer that question. I can only hope that God hears my plea. Please let there be trees one day for my sons to climb, and for them to know peace, love, and harmony. For hate to only be a memory, for love of thy neighbor to be common place. That power and control take a back seat to families, ice cream socials, tree climbing, community, faith, charity, patience and respect.

Waving in my backyard now is an enormous tree, its bark so old and thick, you can climb it with ease. Each finger finding a perfect hold in its massive trunk. It is covered in green leaves, and makes wonderful noise in the wind and rain. It shades 4 yards, and provides a place for imagination to wonder. And when I close my eyes, I imagine away all that ails us. My oldest son wants to be a tree climber when he grows up. I hope he gets to keep that dream alive.

Seeking to be like God

You don't have to be like the world to have an impact on the world. You don't have to be like the crowd to change the crowd. You don't have to lower yourself down to their level to lift them up to your level. Holiness doesn't seek to be odd. Holiness seeks to be like God. -Max Lucado

I always say, what am I supposed to do about this or that. I can't change that. But what I failed to realize is that maybe I can lead by example. Even if I can't make a huge world wide change, maybe I can make a positive change or impact on one life around me.

Drop a rock in a pond and the ripples keep going on and on.
Food for thought.

Something of Value

It is Thursday.
Not Friday, Thursday. I awoke this morning, and could have swore it was Friday. I, again, have been tricked by my own mind.
Inspirational thought of the day:
Sunset is an hour for quiet reflection. There can be no replay of the day, except in fleeting memory. There can be no rewriting of the script etched upon these hours. With the indelible ink of eternity there has been inscribed upon the page of this eternal sheet of time either something of value, or only what is vain.
The weather has finally turned to wonderful spring, almost summer, weather. I love it. Makes me feel like starting over. I am ready to dig in the dirt and plant my container plants, and hang lovely colored baskets all around.
Of course, day dreaming about being outside in the dirt, does nothing for my motivation at work. But it seems I am not the only one in this boat. Everyone has been sneaking out early, taking long lunches, coming up with any excuse to steal away from the office.
Each day I listen to Joey talk about karate on Tuesdays, and Swim class on Saturday's and he waits for each day to be over so he can get to hang out with Sensei Paul or kick and splash at the pool. He measures time by the activities he loves to do. So it made me think, when did I go from measuring my life by my activities that I love, to measuring it by minutes, hours, and days. Seems so much more boring.
You get old, you get boring. I think it's the light bulbs at work, sucks the life out your eyeballs and you forget what really is important.
You blink, it is all a memory, need to remember that each moment really does count.