Seamstress or Songstress?

How do you figure out who you were created to be? It's a hard question to answer when you're young and even when you're old.

Recently I found an autobiography I wrote back in high school. Now that I'm 51 years old, I see life so differently than the teenage girl who wrote that. This excerpt from it evoked a sudden, deep belly laugh.

"I am not good at door to door witnessing, but if I could have my own home and bake things for the hungry and sew things for the needy people, and concentrate on one group of people for the sake of Jesus; my children, I would be happy. I would have my children with me and could concentrate on raising them to love God."

My mother and her bread!

Mother & I in the kitchen.

I can see the influence of my mother all over that paragraph. She loved making a home for us children. That's the picture she painted for me out of her own giftedness. She was a grand cook, seamstress, gardener and mother.

But when I'd slice my mother's freshly baked bread, I'd cut the slices into deformed shapes and mess up the rest of the loaf. (You have to cut a second slice to straighten the first.) I couldn't even do it right the second time. I still smile and think of her when I cut a crooked slice and can feel her smiling at my inability to slice bread.

A rabbit I made.
I don't know how I did it!

I tried to sew but I wasn't nearly as good as she was and I'd quickly get frustrated. 

That idealistic description of my high-school-self was a direct reflection of who my mother was and what she was good at. Not who I am.

Recently I spent some time with a friend who just turned 70. I've started asking my older friends what reflections they'd have for younger folks. This particular friend paused for a moment and then spoke thoughtfully: "you start to become comfortable with who you are and you don't have to try to be anything or anyone else."

I spent much of my life trying to be all that my mother was and that's not all bad, but it took me a long time to figure out who I really am, apart from her. I finally discovered something; I DO sew and cook.

I sew lyrics and melodies together providing garments of joy and laughter for people when they listen to the tunes. I marinate thoughts and truths in my slow-cooker brain and serve up hope in creative ways for people to sit and partake of food for their soul. So I guess you could say that I have the same gifts as my mother - they just express themselves in different ways.

It can take a long time to figure out who you really are and what you're really good at, but the journey is worth it and it's part of the pleasure of growing older. If you still find yourself trying to be what others are (or think you should be), hang in there. Life and time have a way of helping you figure out who you really are.

• Pray often - asking God to lead you on this journey - spend time listening for His leading
• Look for clues from your childhood - what did you love to do when you were young
• What did other people tell you that you were good at? (maybe they still tell you)
• Experiment - try new things

As you age, you'll see clues from childhood that point you in the right direction. Through years of living and hours of prayer, you begin to find a groove and rhythm to who you are as a person, and then you can sit back, enjoy the creation God made you to be and not care about anything else.

And when you reach that point, you feel very free.

Oops - I Hit the Easter Bunny.

Last week I mentioned that I was going to blog about getting rid of 50 things before I turn 50. I'm still working away at my list and I will write more about that soon. It's a very interesting process! But something happened on Sunday that caused me to take a rabbit trail this week and I decided to write about my experience.

This past Easter Sunday I hit a rabbit when I was on my way to the gym for a workout before heading to the church to finalize everything for our special Easter services. Some people said I hit the Easter bunny. I don't know for sure, but if you didn't get any candy, it could be my fault. Sorry.

I love to workout on Sunday mornings for two reasons:

a) The gym is EMPTY!  I have it all to myself.
b) It energizes me for the rehearsals and services that lay ahead.

It was still dark and before I could blink, the rabbit darted toward my van. I just kept going. No swerving, no ducking and no crying. Though I did gasp.

It darted back to the side of the road and then back out again. THUMP.  No more Easter bunny.

Instantly, my mind flashed back to an episode I had many years ago where I had a different encounter with a rabbit and was in such a bad state I just wanted to die.

That day, my heart was pounding because I swerved to miss the rabbit and almost hit a semi head on. The bigger problem was that I didn't care if I died. In fact, I secretly wished that I would. I was struggling with severe depression.

I remember thinking to myself, "if I don't swerve, I will hit the rabbit. But if I do swerve, my life could be over."  In a split second I had a decision to make. My life or the rabbit.

I love animals and I go into great emotional distress if I hit one on the road so I usually swerve like crazy to miss! But when I realized that I actually didn't care if the semi hit me and ended my life, I knew that the depression had plunged to an alarming depth. I had become so hopeless that death seemed like the only relief in sight.

Then, logic kicked in and I swerved to miss the bunny AND the truck.

Though I certainly don't relish killing the rabbit this past Sunday, I want to celebrate an obvious sign of progress in my life.  I chose my safety and life over the bunny's this time. I love my life now. I feel so different on the inside, it's as if I'm a different person. It didn't happen overnight, but I appreciate all that I've learned in the process.

Are there days when I still get down? Absolutely! But it's very different than depression. Because of that alarming experience years ago, (and other similar experiences) I paid attention to the warning signs.  I began taking some serious steps to get help and I'm so glad I did.

Here are some tips I learned along the way:

1) Listen to your family.

If they keep telling you that you need help, they are probably right. They know you and love you. Don't write them off.

2) Go get help. Professional help.

Call a friend (if you have to) and ask them to go with you to see a counselor.

3) Pay attention to the advice of the counselor.

Counseling only does good if you listen and apply their recommendations. And give it time!

4) Pray a lot!

Even when you feel like no one is listening. Keep praying, seeking and asking. God is working in ways you can't even imagine and He is working for your good.  It might take a lot of hard work, but it will be worth it.

I remember wishing I could just take a pill and feel better, or better yet, have God zap me and instantly be better.  There are times when He does a miracle and I've experienced some of those times, but for the most part, it seems like we have to walk the hard road and dig deep. But we can come out of the pit with new awareness and tools that help us start walking in healing and wholeness.
It's a lot like training the physical body. You have to keep working at it. You can't expect significant changes overnight.

Yep - I hit the Easter bunny. And though I mourn his loss, I celebrate my own life and healing. On Sunday I sang a solo with the choir :

"It's still the cross

 it's still the blood of Calvary that cleanses sin 

and sets the captive free"

by Mike Harland, Luke Garrett, Buddy Mullins, and Niles Borop

....and I sang it from the bottom of my heart.

He still sets the captives free and I'm one of those that has lived to tell it.

Mrs. Snappy or Mrs. Hopper (which one are you?)

From Creature Control website

I delicately grabbed the mucky shell of the turtle. It must have come from the creek. I didn't want to see it get hit by oncoming traffic, but I was not prepared for its reaction to my sacrificial offering of help. It flailed it's legs, claws extended, and quickly turned its neck around toward my hand.  I screamed and dropped it.

The man heading toward his mailbox about 50 yards away from me now stood and watched me. I tried again. After all, I was trying to help the turtle. Surely it wouldn't harm me.  How long IS its neck I wondered as I prepared to try again.  All I wanted to do was carry it across the road and put it in the tall grass so it could arrive safely to wherever it was going. Snappy was obviously done swimming in the creek and headed toward the alfalfa field.

Same thing happened again.  I lifted.  It lurched.  I screamed and dropped it. "Do-nothing-neighbor-man" had to be getting a good laugh at me now.  I looked at him in distress.  "That turtle crosses the road every morning and night.  She has a nest up in the alfalfa field", is all he said.

Nice of you to offer to help me, I thought.  Do you stand and watch it come close to death every morning and evening?

Just then a big black pickup truck came barreling over the hill and around the curve. I suddenly burst into bionic woman mode and put my arm up in the air with a "STOP" kind of gesture. Don't you dare come near Mrs. Snappy.  I named her since I now knew she was a her.

He stopped and I felt proud.  I liked this kind of power.  He jumped out of his truck while "do-nothing-neighbor-man" continued to stand there at his mailbox.

Finally, someone is coming to help me.  I exhaled.

Wrong.  He was carrying a large camera and intended to capture this adventure. I suddenly realized that I was standing there drenched in sweat from running and jump roping. I panicked. Of all the moments to be photographed! Did I mention it was Saturday morning around 6:15?

I started giving the"do-nothing-neighbor-man" some credit.  I'll call him Mr. Red because he was wearing a red shirt.  At least he was up and out at his mailbox early enough to see Mrs. Snappy and know her habits, even if he wasn't offering to help me.

Mr. Pickup wasn't turning out to be much of a help because he was focused on taking pictures. It only took about 5 seconds and I realized he was interested in Mrs. Snappy and not me. After shooting a few pics, he called to Mr. Red: "Do you have a shovel?" "Well...I do up at my house" said Mr. Red.  "I'll have to go get it."  He turned around and marched up his long, steep driveway probably mumbling to himself.

While this exchange was happening, I went looking for a stick.  If I could just give Mrs. Snappy some encouragement, we could get her across safely.  I couldn't find one.  Meanwhile I was dragging my jump rope around with me.  Duh!!!  I can use my jump rope I said to myself.

I began to wrap the rope around Mrs. Snappy.  She lunged at it with her mouth.  I retreated.  Pickup man saw what I was thinking and said "is that a jump rope?"

(A-hem)....."Is that a CAMERA?".... I was starting to feel a bit snappy myself.

He took the rope and began to wrap it multiple times around the shell of Mrs. Snappy. She was NOT HAPPY! She bit the rope and hung on as he lifted her (well...more like dragged) her across the pavement.  I felt a big sense of relief, even though he was now flipping her upside down into the grass.  At least she was safe.  By now Mr. Red had arrived with his shovel.

I walked away from that experience pondering the story of the tortoise and the hare . On my way back, I looked to see how far Mrs. Snappy had progressed in the tall grass.  About 2 feet.  Not much. But she was determined and feisty.  The kind of tenacity it takes to finish a race.  Not win it, perhaps, but finish it none-the-less.

Mrs. Hopper (Peter cottontail's momma), on the other hand, is so unpredictable that I believe she is the one who created the Pennsylvania roads.  I think she hopped around setting the course and the paving companies followed her.  One minute you are going North and the next moment you are going South.

So often I feel like Mrs. Snappy.  One small step at a time.  Day after day.  I routinely try to keep working away at my dreams and ideas. My ideas are as frequent and unpredictable as the path of Mrs. Hopper, but I will only accomplish them as I take on the habits of Mrs. Snappy.

I once heard someone say that the musicians who usually end up succeeding are not the most talented. They simply hang in there the longest. That gives me a sense of hope.  I have so much to learn.  But if I stick with it, day after day, I will make progress.  I don't have to be big and flashy like Mrs. Hopper.  Just steady.  Committed.  Tenacious.

P.S.  As I was preparing to write this blog, I decided to do a little research on snapping turtles because when I told Tom (my husband) about my morning activity, he was alarmed and told me I could have had my finger permanently removed! I should NEVER do that, he said.

I guess he was right....this is an excerpt I found from a website about turtles AFTER I tried to help Mrs. Snappy.

"Under no circumstances should you attempt to pick up a snapping turtle; they have an extremely flexible neck capable of reaching around and biting the hands of the person holding them, even if they are being held by the shell. In fact, snappers can reach their heads all the way to their hind legs to bite. Their jaws are extraordinarily powerful and capable of completely severing a human finger. In addition to the danger posed by their bite, the claws of the snapping turtle are quite sharp and can lacerate the flesh of a person attempting to handle them. One reason put forward for why snappers are so belligerent is because, unlike other turtles, they are too big to hide inside their own shell. Their powerful bite, sharp claws and aggressive attitude compensate for this deficiency." Creature Control.net

Yikes. I was very fortunate to come home with all my fingers!!!

What are you working toward? Weight loss? Bachelor's Degree? Running a marathon? Starting a non-profit? A better marriage?

Take a lesson from Mrs. Snappy.  She might not be quick and flashy...but she arrives at her destination.  One step at a time.

Take a lesson from me. Always carry a jump rope.