Shut Down

My game plan was to begin a new “feature” post for those Manic Mondays called “Notables” in which I would highlight a non-profit or organization that has recently found its way into my sphere of interest, but that didn’t happen.

Today was piles of notes and group binders, forgetting to clock in at work because I opened Outlook first to attack those questioning emails full of details and a paragraph of mind-spilled life happenings that crushed my previous frustrations of “why are people so last minute in planning.” But it started before that.

It started with not wanting to get out of my bed that I’d slept in for the first time in a week and was followed soon by a come to Jesus meeting on Stretch Road about how God doesn’t need a full-time job to operate or make sure the bills are covered or have the safety net of health insurance even though the government’s forcing it. God doesn’t need that. He doesn’t even need me, but he’s tweaked and moved and chipped away at my imperfections to reveal more in this place so that He can be renowned. 

Renown. Almost like reowned. Take this city.

So I used a lot of post-it notes, asked a lot of questions, and scratched out to-do list bullet points only to realize that my Honduran pens are dying, as if that’s some belligerent expression of how that chapter of my life is closed and I, still, have no idea where I’m going. But anger is just the manifestation of some deeper issue, like most of our emotions.

I’m afraid because…
I’m lonely because…
I’m hurt because…

Because we have experiences and our lives shift. We make statements, end them with periods, and are forced to begin again. Shift.

Here I am staring at this list of awesome projects started by incredible people with a mind wondering, “Why am I not one of those” and eyes ready to cry. My brain is literally shutting down from seven days of input – “drinking from a water fountain” or standing under a waterfall. 

So, instead of highlighting an organization that’s doing something well, I want to point out some things that are small, because the Boss, well, he’s in the small things.



I high-five’d at least two people today.

A co-worker stopped me for a moment of pure eucharisteo that refocused my day.

Laughter waltzed its way through our office today.

The staff spent time seeking the Lord today as a unified body.

God made the impossible possible and proved it in one small emotional paragraph of an email. Miracle babies.

I spoke with each of my best friends today.

Peanut butter cookies were dessert…and they were warm.

I have breath to breathe.

My heart is still pumping.

There is still purpose.

There is still life.

Eucharisteo is in a Monday and thanksgiving precedes the miracle, so tomorrow…tomorrow must be a miracle.