Thank you Hattie and Lance

I was completely lost in my own world when opportunity met me today. My mind was on receiving a piece of mail I had been anticipating and trying not to get frustrated while fidgeting and tugging to get my key out of the mailbox. I wasn’t looking to make a new friend. No wonder I was so surprised this afternoon when I turned around and almost tripped over an older woman and her shy grandson.

She was striking. Dressed in a bright fuchsia suit with her raven hair in the tidiest French twist I’ve ever seen, the woman reached out her hand and said “I’m Hattie.” I quickly noticed that her hand was trembling. She proceeded to tell me that she had Parkinson’s disease, and was in need of a ride down the street to her daughter’s house. She had been taking care of her grandson, Lance, and they had walked to the grocery store. Her medication was wearing off, she said, and she was afraid she wasn’t going to make it home.

I don’t know a thing about Parkinson’s disease, except that it broke my heart to see this woman, so beautiful, regal even, so weakened as to being drawn to ask a perfect stranger for help. Call it naivety, but I quickly cleared my bag from the front seat, invited them into my car, and down the road we went. Lance was thrilled to find an “army guy” in my backseat, and immediately told me I was “the nicest lady he’d ever met” when I told him he could keep it. Hattie just did her best to hold on to her groceries and purse, and thanked me over and over again during the ride and as I helped her carry her groceries inside.

I don’t know if I’ll ever see Hattie or Lance again, but as I walked back to my car this afternoon, I heard Lance, army guy in hand, say “Nana, I think she loves Jesus like we do. Do you think so?” It was enough to make a tear escape down my cheek... beccause that's what this is all about. Hattie and Lance put a smile on my face today, and I wasn’t even looking to make a friend.

the treasure is not in the golden ticket

I have absolutely nothing to complain about. My life has had so many positive turns in the last several months—well, in the last year really—that if you didn’t know better, you’d think I was God’s favorite kid. (Actually, I am… I just usually try not to brag about it…). But I realized today that it’s not enough. I want more.

Now, before you go thinking I’m the spitting image of the selfish, hair-raising Veruca Salt from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, let me explain. I wouldn’t say I’m feeling an internal demand for the golden tickets of life… I feel like I’ve already gotten those—from family to friends, relationships, and a career. Yet, something remains to be desired. And it’s nothing that any golden ticket could ever satisfy. You see, I find myself longing for more moments that have nothing to do with golden tickets or living “the good life.” I want more moments of deep satisfaction, of true meaning, of heartfelt attempts to be a light, even if it means risking failure.

The things I want more of are times like when I was hugging a woman twice my age in the parking lot of my place of employment, crying with her and praying with her as she left a place of safety and restoration, and began a new life of sobriety. Or when I was kneeling on the floor of a grocery store isle, praying for a perfect stranger as he died, inches from my hands that failingly attempted to save him. And the time spent talking and praying in a woman’s apartment, who had been so badly abused she had to move halfway across the country and change her name and social security number in a desperate attempt to find safety. Or making a quick phone call to a friend, whose mother passed away halfway around the world. And the unanswered messages I continue to leave on another friend’s voicemail, who made a huge mistake in life, and is too ashamed to face God or anyone else.

I am eternally grateful for the blessings God has granted me. But I never want my life to be about seeking a golden ticket. I just want more moments like those—moments of vulnerability, snapshots of the grace of God. Because eternal treasure will never be found anywhere else.

Amber on Elizabeth Layton

I came across this post on a friend's blog not too long ago.... it is beautiful in its raw simplicity:

bloggeriffic: Elizabeth "Grandma" Layton

What bravery. Many of us can and want to do heroic things, but few of us can stare ourselves in the mirror with honesty, and share the reflection with others. That is true courage.

take it all in...

I love the silence of contentment, the stillness of security, and the pacing of a heart that is alive. I am grateful for endless skies with wispy clouds, and for the colorful early breaks of dawn, even when it’s too early to be awake. I am thankful for long conversations and short moments of bliss, for truth and honesty and even exposure. I love long, refreshing naps, and watching the sun fade behind ribbons of purple and orange in the late evening sky. I love the idea of family, of sisters and brothers, of friends and love. I am intrigued by the search for something more, whatever that more may be. I am grateful for memories that rekindle moments of forgotten joy, and even for those that are pointed reminders of the need for grace. I love the budding flowers in the spring as much as I admire the changing and falling leaves of autumn. I laugh as I watch boys slide down steep, grassy hills in cardboard boxes, then tirelessly climb to the top to do it all again. I love the fullness of a deep breath, and the calmness it can bring. I love the idea of an endless journey… it gives me time to enjoy it all.