Heart to Heart

I started off 2016 with such good intentions, as we all do come January 1. "I'll blog twice a month!" I said. "I'll do a little writing every Wednesday!" I said. Hmm. My two lonely blog posts in 2016 tell a different story ... sigh.

No matter. This blank page and blinking cursor have been right here waiting for me. And God has faithfully continued to speak to my heart through words, experiences, and people. My desire is to honor Him by sharing what He has revealed to me.

So. I think it's only right to kick off 2017 with part two of The Quest for my Desk.

After months of searching (and, as you know, several IKEA trips), I found it. 

My perfect desk was nestled between stacked rows of tables, chairs, and nightstands at the Nashville Flea Market. 

It was just what I wanted.

It wasn't too big, wasn't too small, not too bulky or too fancy. It was just right.

It was exactly the size I was looking for, with clean lines and classic, yet feminine features, and it was within my budget (Dave Ramsey would be so proud!). The legs were bright blue (y'all, I'm talking iMessage blue), but it was nothing a quick coat of paint couldn't fix. 

I was so excited! My search was finally over. My dear friends were equally as happy, as they, too, were invested in my quest, and had been helping me look for just the right thing.

I loved it, and couldn't wait to get it home. I paid the seller, and we loaded the desk into my dear roommate's mom's SUV. She generously offered to take it home for me, since it wouldn't fit in my car. She took off, and we had just started walking to our car when a man driving a golf cart offered us a ride to our car. It was a hot day and we had been walking around for hours, so we were grateful for the ride and hopeful for a bit of a cool breeze as we rode down the hill to the car.

We got so much more than just a cool breeze.

I sat in front and began chatting with the driver. He casually mentioned that he had been volunteering at the Nashville Flea Market for years, and that he had actually just returned from a long break because he received a heart transplant.

Ok, God ... I'm listening.

He proceeded to share with us how he had found God through his transplant. He said that he had never been a believer before, but he had become one after seeing God at work in his own life.

He shared with us that he had always had heart issues, and that he knew he would need a transplant eventually. When the time came for him to be listed for transplant, he received his new heart very quickly. The timing of his transplant, in conjunction with a local news story, led him to believe that he knew whose heart he had received.

His new heart had belonged to a teenager whose family was well known within the community. Through some mutual friends, our driver learned that the teenager had planned to take his Crane Test in karate the day he died. Interestingly, shortly after our driver had returned home following his transplant, he was in his garden enjoying the warmth of the sun when a crane flew in and began cawing at him. Come to find out, the teenager's father had a similar experience with a crane in the weeks after his son's passing. He believed that was a sign from the Lord, which brought him peace. This was one of many ways that our driver experienced God during his transplant journey.

It was such an honor to hear this man tell the story of how he had encountered God, and how the Lord changed his life. Our God is so good and so gracious to draw near to us and to allow us to draw near to Him.

Our driver underwent a physical heart transplant, and through that experience, he received a spiritual heart transplant. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!" Thank you, Lord!

God is constantly reminding me to slow down and look for how He is at work in the world around me. I am so thankful for that hot day in Nashville when God slowed me down so that I could hear that man share his testimony. 

The desk was just a bonus.

Clothes

On Friday night, one of my dear roommates and I lined up alongside a few hundred other women to participate in the largest clothes swap that has ever been held in Atlanta (er, I think). The women of Passion City Church rolled out the red carpet and hosted this beautiful event, and it was absolutely brilliant. Seriously. I felt like a celebrity.

The Grove, PCC’s women’s ministry, spent weeks collecting gently used clothes, shoes, and jewelry from the women in their congregation (and let’s be honest, those trendy women know how to put an outfit together!). The event was free, and you didn’t have to bring any clothes to swap (read: I didn’t have to attempt to clean out my closet, and that’s always a win). They organized the items by color and size, and hung them on wooden racks all around the spacious room. There was a DJ, refreshments, and even a team of stylists ready to help you create a new look. How incredible is that?!

It was clear that they thought through all of the details, and they were so intentional about making us feel loved and beautiful from the moment we turned in to the parking lot. (No really, the sweet college guy who pointed us toward the empty parking spots just stole my heart. It may have been because he smiled and waved at us as if he knew us, which I find really endearing. I don’t know if he actually thought he knew us or if he’s just fun like that, but I loved it. It made me feel like an old friend.)

When we first walked into the church, there was a team of volunteers waiting to greet us. They gave us instructions and we were handed tokens with which we could “purchase” 5 items. And then they let us loose. It was like shopping in your sister’s closet - everything is cute and free! 

I wandered from rack to rack, totally overwhelmed by the number of people and the amount of clothes. I took a moment to soak it all in. They had a collection of clothes hangers strategically hung from the ceiling, and lit up so beautifully. Even the signs for the dressing rooms and the size dividers on each rack looked hand-lettered. Every little detail catered to a woman’s heart and exuded the love of Christ.

My eyes swept over the people, the clothes, and the walls, taking in every intentional detail, and then I saw the scripture in vinyl lettering on the floor: “She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.” Proverbs 31:25. It has been one of my favorites ever since I journeyed through Beth Moore’s So Long Insecurity. I love it for many reasons, once of which is the word “clothed.” These are attributes that we put on and wear proudly as daughters of the King. Strength. Dignity. Fearlessness. We are not insecure; we are His mighty warrioresses, clothed in His strength, His love, and His joy. 

We can laugh without fear of the future. Can you hear it? You know the laugh … it’s the one where you snort a little, but hope no one noticed (even though they always notice). It’s that belly laugh where your voice disappears for a minute, only to return when the tears of joy start rolling down your face. Yeah, that’s the one. That laugh is a gift, and I’m convinced that those are the laughs Proverbs 31:25 is referring to. The kind that are unencumbered and free. 

What would the world look like if we shared our “clothes” more often? If we spent more time pouring His strength and dignity into those around us? If we allowed His abundance to fill us and overflow into those around us? I think this world would be different. I don’t think the hard things would disappear, but I think we would find it easier to walk through them, knowing that if we lose sight of that strength and dignity, we can trust that the Holy Spirit will speak through our brothers and sisters to remind us of who we are in Him. Because He will always remind us. He is good, gracious, and kind that way. He loves us, and He calls us to be His light in this broken world by loving others and glorifying His name. 

Maybe I will clean out my closet, after all … 

What IKEA Taught Me About God

I like IKEA. 

They kill me with the smell of their cinnamon buns piping through the vents, but I like that place. It’s big and overstimulating, but it’s some of the best people watching around. Parents eager to drop their kids off at the on-site day care, college students excited to find unique ways to conserve space in their dorms, newlyweds ready for their first big purchase, and people like me, just trying to find a desk that doesn’t weigh (or look like it weighs) a thousand pounds. 

Challenge extended.

My dear roommate offered to drive us down to IKEA (her car is way bigger than mine), so we packed some snacks and drinks (this could be an all-day affair, people), and off we went. We parked, returned something from my last IKEA visit (confession: I may, er, be a bit of an impulse shopper …), resisted the cinnamon buns (whew), and began to follow the giant floor arrows around the store. We made it to the desks. After a bit of searching, my dear roommate points out the. perfect. desk. It was simple in color and build, it seemed to be the right size for my space, and was just too cute. As an impulse shopper, I see it, like it, buy it. I don’t look around, I don’t wait to see what else is out there, I just snatch it up when I see it. So, we snapped a quick picture of the tag (so we would have a shot of finding it in the warehouse at the end of the floor arrows), and happily made our way through the rest of the store.

Lucky for us, it was easy to locate the desk, and it wasn’t too heavy to lift (we’ve totally been working out … I mean, putting Christmas decorations in the attic counts as a workout, right?). We actually chose a fairly quick checkout line (which for me is a win; my line-choosing skills rival the opening scene in Office Space), and we made our way out of the giant blue and yellow store.

Once we got home, the excitement of the day was gone, and we were exhausted. We had worked out, after all (that desk felt heavier each time we had to lift it - on the cart, into the car, out of the car; it was basically IKEA Crossfit). I headed to bed, where I dreamt of the smooth butcher block desktop lined with perfectly organized files, paper clips in tiny mason jars, a trendy mug containing my pen collection, and, of course, a blank notebook to be filled with blog ideas, Bible verses, or lettering practice. (Apparently this new desk included organizational skills? Trendy mug sold separately.)

The next day, I was refreshed and ready to tackle the big box and those crazy, wordless instructions that IKEA includes whenever there is “some assembly required.”

I opened the box and reached in for the first piece.

Huh.

Those desk legs didn’t seem so dark before. And the top didn’t look that yellow when the angelic light was beaming down on it in the store. Was it this wide before? This wasn’t the desk I had seen in my dream. Was this the desk I purchased?

Yikes.

Impulse shopper strikes again.

I pulled out a few more pieces, somehow willing myself to like it. IKEA is not close to my house … and with each piece I pulled out, it seemed to get further and further away. Not a drive I was eager to make (or ask my dear roommate to make) again soon. 

Before I knew it, I had pulled out most of the pieces. I didn’t want to make another impulse decision (I do have some restraint, it just shows up a little late to the party sometimes), so I decided to wait it out and see if it grew on me. 

It didn’t.

When my dear roommate got home, she eagerly poked her head in my room to see my progress with the ever-effective pictures-only instructions. She saw the mess, and I delivered the news …

It had to go back.

But first, we had to get it back in the box. Uh oh.

IKEA likes to use little cardboard squares to separate the furniture pieces and to keep everything from moving, bumping, scratching, and denting everything else. My dear roommate and I rearranged and rearranged and rearranged to try and put the puzzle back together so that everything fit in the box. We tried and tried and tried. And then we started laughing. I mean belly laughing. She was pushing on one end of the box, and I was pushing on the other, and it just. wasn’t. closing. We worked and worked to revise our layout, but we just couldn’t seem to make it work. This was a serious challenge. Who knew you had to be an engineer to put pieces back into a box?

After what felt like a million different attempts, we finally got the box closed. Yes! We did a quick scan of the floor before taping it shut, just to make sure nothing was left out. We burst into laughter when we realized that we had left out every. single. one. of the cardboard separators. 

Tears of laughter streamed down my face as I thought about the innocent, blue jersey clad IKEA employee who will have to open that janky box to make sure that all the pieces were returned. I can picture the poor soul just shaking his head. Impulse shoppers. 

When I sit back and look at the whole experience, I can't help but hear God speaking to me and teaching me a little more about His love. 

That desk seemed pretty close to perfect in the store. While it wasn’t exactly what I had pictured, it was close enough, and it was right in front of me. Right within reach. It would have done the job and served my purpose. However, once I got it home, pulled it out, and really began to look at this desk, I realized that it wasn’t really what I wanted. The colors didn’t really jive with the room, and the measurements weren’t what I had envisioned for the space. It would have taken a lot of work to get that desk to look like what I really wanted. I settled for less in favor of immediate satisfaction. I know that I would have ultimately spent a great deal of time and energy trying to make that desk into what I really wanted it to be. Probably more time and energy than I would have spent waiting patiently for God to show me the right desk at the right time. 

While this is just a small example of my human desire for instant gratification, doesn’t it paint a larger picture of how we are all too hasty to compromise our desires, our dreams, and our hearts in order to get what we want in the moment? 

God has been reminding me of His perfect timing. Perfect. Without flaws or mistakes. We know and trust that, “In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28). God works in ALL things for our good. He doesn’t make mistakes. He doesn’t forget about us. He is for us, and He is a good Father. 

Matthew 7 also reminds us of this: “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” We just have to wait on His timing, and look for His blessings in the meantime, because they are there. While it may feel like you are in a season of walking through a desert, He has not forgotten you, or the hopes and dreams He planted in your heart. He is a good Father, and He wants good things for His children. Trust that, and wait patiently on it. 

While your plan may seem good and “close enough to perfect,” waiting on His perfect plan will prove even more fruitful, and will allow you to experience His best for you. I don’t know about you, but I would rather have His best plan than my good plan any day of the week.