Deep In The Heart Of Texas

It has been a long time since I retreated. Almost two years since I took the time to drive away from the distractions of city life and into the wide open spaces and gentle rolling hills of the Texas Hill Country. This weekend found me unwinding with each passing mile as I made my way to Laity Lodge, an amazingly sacred retreat center nestled deep in the heart of Texas.

In a way I was driving into my past. Transportedto my teenage years when I spent many hours on an old blue and white church bus, looking at the same scenery as we lumbered up the hill to the run down Baptist youth camp. It was old and dusty with the Frio River slicing through the winding, wooded paths. Alto Frio was its name, and a rather strange one if you think about it. For the uninitiated, frio means cold, or very cold in Spanish, but alto is most commonly associated with halt, although a quick google search reveals that it also means tall or high. I spent many weeks of my youth at that Tall, Cold River Camp.

So many cherished memories. Long nights in the bunkhouse with giggling girls; choking down terrible food in the mess hall and making sure I NEVER put my elbows on the table; kicking rocks and holding hands with a cute new guy because PDAs were strictly forbidden, and the reason we snuck down to the river (!); pulling pranks at the boys' dorm; silly "Olympics"; small groups; worship in the open meeting hall; and of course, rededicating my life to God at the nightly invitation offered at any Baptist camp worth its salt! Good times, good times all around.

But now I'm older, and those carefree days are long gone, as well as my nights spent in the rundown bunkhouses of Alto Frio (thank God!) I've graduated to a retreat center for grown-ups. A real treasure that serves nourishment for the body and soul in a serene lodge set in a canyon carved in two by the same river I swam in as a kid. As I contrasted the old and new memories this weekend I was stunned at how they intermingled. Hiking to the top of Circle Bluff I remembered how I used to stare at the canyons wondering if any Native Americans remained hidden in the bluffs. I found myself looking for arrowheads on my hike yesterday, something I have done my entire life whenever I'm outside of the confines of asphalt and highways. I also kept an eye out for jumping cactus and rattlesnakes, I find that I'm still allergic to both...

Dipping my toes in the frigid Frio River took me back 25 years to the laughter and splashing and freedom of playing at Alto Frio or Garner State Park. And the stars. Oh my, the stars! I forgot how much I missed them until I stared up into the inky blackness and looked at the twinkling lights as they blinked on and off. I used to imagine that they were diamonds and I'd wonder how they stayed suspended in the universe. If it were possible I would have stared all night just to burn the vision of those heavenly jewels in my eyes forever so that I would never forget the peace I feel when I gaze upon them.

Yet, as much time as I spent remembering, I found that I was also fully alive in the present. As I listened to a wise, impassioned professor teach old truths of the gospel in a new way I was captivated as I considered them from the context of my personal history. It was powerful and exciting and deeply satisfying to my soul when nuggets of truth finally burst through the soil of my heart, soil that has been tilled for 26 years. And later in the night as I lounged by a warm and cozy fire, snuggled up in a borrowed coat, listening to a beautiful poem, I was astounded as I contemplated the words of "Alive Together" and realized that God created me to be in that very place, at that very moment. I nearly wept as that truth took root in my heart, and I finally just rested in the experience of living. I'm pretty sure a few stars even winked at me as I walked into the quiet stillness of the night and gazed upon them while peace flooded my soul.

Today as I took communion the mystery of my faith was profound as I looked out the picture window to the canyon and river below, and marveled that the Creator of such beauty died so that I might know him. How grateful I am to have once again spent a precious few hours, deep in the heart of Texas, retreating from the works of man. I will spend my upcoming nights in the city remembering the handiwork of God, and waiting with bated breath for my next retreat into a diamond-studded, Texas night.

Cell Phone Etiquette

Cell phone etiquette is a funny thing, every one I know has different boundaries when it comes to their portable tracking device. And it should be noted that the things that bother me obviously don't bother several of my friends. For instance, I cannot stand it when I am at dinner with a friend and the ringing cell phone takes precedence over me. ~Commence rant~ Um, excuse me? Am I invisible once the phone begins ringing? Do I no longer matter? Is my company so boring or meaningless that you MUST interrupt our conversation and ignore me while talking to someone you can call later??? After all, people DID survive before they could be tracked down at all hours of the night and day. ~End rant~

Yet despite my obvious annoyance at the heretofore mentioned scenario, there is something that makes me even crazier, and that, my friends, is when people talk on a cell phone in a public bathroom. That is just incomprehensible to me. Do you really want your friend or loved one to be an auditory witness to your potty break....or mine? Really? Well, I certainly don't! But it happens all the time. I've tried to ignore the elevator talkers and the grocery store arguments I've witnessed via the cell phone. I've even tried to overlook the movie goers and airplane passengers who refuse to turn off their idols, er....phones. But I draw the line at cell phone bathroom talkers. It's. Just. Plain. Wrong.

Yesterday as I was taking a potty break a lady walked in mid-conversation and proceeded to keep talking while both of us were trying to pee. Was I wrong to wish for some privacy? As she was droning on and on at a decibel level sure to inflict hearing loss on anyone within a 10-foot radius, she proceeded to dissect a divorcing couple's marriage. Friends of hers apparently, although I use the term "friend" loosely since I would be livid if one of my friends did that to me.

So now I am privy to the information that Jack and Jill (not their real names) are in the midst of a nasty separation and that divorce is imminent. It's all Jill's fault too, at least according to the anonymous cell phone talker. Jack says Jill is a *!@#* and apparently this lady agreed. Of course, her own marriage is S O L I D as a rock because she and Carlos (his real name) do not suffer the same communication issues. That may change if he ever discovers that his wife is discussing their marriage while taking a pee in a public bathroom!

But even worse was the fact that in the middle of this conversation, she did the one thing I was dreading the most, yes ladies and gentlemen.....she flushed.....and then continued talking without skipping a beat. I was blushing and determined not to exit the stall until I knew for certain she was long gone. I was worried that my face would betray my horror at what she had done. Or that I would tell her off for making someone else an auditory witness to my potty break. There are still some things that should remain private. So, for all of you bathroom cell phone talkers out there, please for the love of all things human, let me pee in peace!

Do You See What I See?

Hopefully the answer is a resounding NO if you're observing me because I already see every one of my flaws in glaring detail. They are disproportionately HUGE, as if I'm looking through a magnifying glass with 900x magnification. I will spare you the gory details, mostly because I don't want you to start noticing them if you haven't already! :-) But I am puzzled as to why beating myself up seems to be one of my favorite pastimes.

For instance, I used to have this terribly abusive habit of standing in front of the mirror after taking a shower and making the most horrible comments out loud about my body. I would say awful things that I would never even THINK about someone else, let alone verbalize. It was terribly defeating to believe that I was the most horrific looking naked woman God had ever created. Perhaps it was even insulting to him, since I was made in his image and all. Yet even today, though I no longer abuse myself in that way, my pea-sized brain has difficulty grasping the thought that MY body is an image-bearer of God and therefore has any beauty to offer the world. It's especially hard to grasp when looking at myself naked, which I don't recommend BTW, although it does make one extremely grateful for fig leaves! BUT, I have been unkind to my body and the evidence is etched in every part of my flesh. And now that I'm no longer young and cute, nor sporting a trim figure it's especially hard to see any redeeming value in how my body looks.

So I think, okay I'm not beautiful, but I'm smart and have solid character, strong faith and a winning personality......except I don't. Sigh. Not really. I usually fake it, although a few lucky (they may say unlucky) ones have crossed over to the dark side and now see me in all, okay some, of my messiness, at least part of the time. But because I know how far short I fall I fear that my neediness or messiness will be too much trouble for them and they will walk away, or worse they will simply tolerate me, but not really love and know me. So I try to keep them from seeing what I see when I really examine my life. And in doing so I fail to be God's image-bearer, because it's hard to reflect truth when I'm lying...

I hesitated to even post this blog because it exposes parts of me I'd rather keep hidden, but I know I'm not alone in this. I have beautiful friends with gorgeous bodies, pure hearts, luxurious hair, merciful spirits, stunning features, strong faith and unmeasured talents. Yet I've heard all of them point out their shortcomings in varying degrees of self-abuse. But because I see them through eyes of love I honestly have no idea what they're talking about, I don't see what they see. Yet the women I know can list on demand every single flaw they have, whether real or perceived.

Do men do the same thing to themselves? I'm not sure, but as I was sharing dinner with friends last week I was joking about a pimple I had nicknamed "Mount Kilimanjaro". My male friend looked at me with a tad bit of impatience and said, "Girls, man! I didn't even notice it until you pointed it out!" I was shocked. How could he NOT see it? After all, I could see NOTHING but this GIANT pimple, which I was certain made me resemble Valerie, the horribly ugly witch in "The Princess Bride" when I would clearly rather resemble Princess Buttercup! But he was looking at me through the eyes of grace I am unable to afford myself.

Where do I go from here? Where does any woman go from here? How do we learn to me more gentle and kind to ourselves without ignoring the areas that need improvement? In my case there are multiple physical and emotional traits that could use some fixin', and while I'm sure you have some ideas, I'll ask you to keep them to yourself thank you very much! I'm well aware of my shortcomings, but I'm also aware that I have value because God says I do, not because I look or act a certain way. So how do I begin to live like I believe that? It seems to me that learning to love myself, or at least not abuse myself will make me better at loving others because then I will be free to offer all of myself instead of just bits and pieces. Until then, I REALLY hope you don't see the same things I see when you look at me!