Magnetic People: God is a Mad Scientist

In my many conversations with people in my life, I am continually reminded of the natural laws at work in our universe. One of those laws is the fact that God is not under them. I love that and hate it at the same time. As we were discussing one-sided attraction, my friend said she feels like God is a mad scientist sometimes, using a chemistry set that is out of this world. I started thinking how true this FEELS (with the emphasis on feelings, because I know He is GOOD). Sometimes it seems that just when you have it all figured out, God bends the rules or makes them work for His end product, rather than what you thought He had planned. It becomes hard as a rule-bound human to manuever in the Creator's laboratory. He has no formula that makes sense to us, no natural law it seems (or He breaks it for our good constantly), but He is gloriously correct in His calcualations. HIS formulas arrive at all the best and most favorable conclusions. He is not crossing His fingers, hiding behind His lab coat, and hoping that it all works out. But it sure does FEEL that way often in my life and in the lives of those I connect with.

I have seen this over and over with what I call "magnetic people": I am talking about those people that usually have a group of people surrounding them, wanting to be known and held dear, waiting to be included. These are the people that, when they don't include you (for whatever reason), you have to fight off feelings of worthlessness--even though 5 others invited you to the same thing--THEY didn't. I am sure you know who I mean...we all have some we encounter.

I am very analytical and I have spent several Starbucks times thinking about why this exists and what it looks like. I wrote this in my journal in April, but I am just now getting to write it down:

I feel magnetism is like a combo of intensity mixed with and opposed by aloofness. A tricky combination, like an elusive butterfly. You are initially stunned by its beauty or intrigued by its abrupt entrance into your life. It lands on you, kisses your nose, touches down, tickles your arm and heart, flatters your senses--you breathe in the fragrance it carries; drinking its presence until you are almost drunk with delight. Just as you get your fill of intoxication and grab for more--desiring to harness its beauty, cage it somehow--it slips through your desperate fingers as it flies on to another, leaving you vulnerable, hungover, needy, stripped bare...like an emotional one night stand. Your friends that are available and constant, there to catch you in your drunken stupor. Lean on them...their availability and stablility will be your blanket & hot cup of coffee after being stuck in a torrential downpour: security, love, warmth, true intimacy.

And the next time the butterfly returns to delight your world, let it land--but with the security, intelligence & maturity of an adult who knows that a butterfly is most beautiful when it is free and would be crushed or frantic in the hands of its captor. Unlike a child who seeks to gratify desires, we know better to stand back and admire an elusive creature, smile a little, and then return to life as usual...blessed by the account, yet immune to its intoxicating effect.

I Wanna Ride the Stickhorse

Why, you ask? It was something that I was thinking about during our Kindergarten Rodeo Day last Friday. It is interesting how everything you need to know you REALLY did learn in Kindergarten (or should've...).

We had 6 super sweet rodeo stations including: potato sack races, pin the star on the sheriff, sidewalk chalk/bathroom break, lasso the chair, horshoes, and stickhorse relay. My kids were wicked excited--with the emphasis on wicked--and we were off to have a load o' fun, at the expense of my energy and vocals.

While we were at the stickhorse relay, I learned a major life lesson. About 4 or 5 kids were standing in the back of the line peering over to the next station, lassoing, but they had been the same ones who strained to watch the stickhorse relay while doing potato sack relay. Only, they never got to experience the stickhorse because of their "forward thinking". And, whadduyah know, they didn't get to enjoy lassoing because they were already playing with the sidewalk chalk in their minds--and so on...

About 2 or 3 kids were timidly watching the stickhorse relay and when prompted, said, "No, I'll just watch--I feel silly/scared..." They never experienced the fun because of fear.

Then, the rest of the class went buck wild on the stickhorse. They participated the fake head right off of the horse. Poor guy had to be taped on three times due to extreme enthusiasm. Some kids even slapped their imaginary horse as if they truly BELIEVED it would help them "ride faster" (not realizing that it was their tiny legs that brought them around the tree and back). I realized then how often I am the kid in the back, checking out what could be better in the future--only, I'm missing out everytime because there is always a "future" something. Then I questioned how often I was the fearful one who watched others participate, while growing ripe with jealousy and thoughts such as, "If only I had this or that, THEN I could...(you fill in the blank)."

What I really want to be is the group in the races who neither noticed anyone else nor cared of the future events--they sold out to the moment. All there; present. I wanna ride the stickhorse...

Thirsty?

Just as I had begun to pray tonight, I caught something moving in the corner of my eye. It was startling to me because it was the wilted plant that I had earlier watered. I have always wondered if you could "see" a plant get refreshed, much like watching the hands of a clock--mysteriously they pass time without your notice, although you are aware of their constancy. I had the same thought about my little plant. It is cramped in a too-small pot that I have been "meaning" to get around to re-potting, and it has been gracious with my neglect. It seems to mirror my days when I come home: perky, but with a few damaged leaves; wilted and sagging; alive and bright green (not that I'm bright green...); somewhere in between...

Tonight it was completely wilted. How does it get there that fast? This morning it seemed fresh and didn't seem to need my attention. Why do some days seem to suck the life right out of it while other times it seems that it lives for weeks on a drop of water? Maybe at this point you are wondering why I am rambling about a houseplant...or why I keep using the word "seems"...

It is a spiritual parallel to me tonight--as most mundane things seem to be to me. What I realized as I watched the leaves "jump" around, drinking in the life-giving water, is how quick the plant responded to my care. It didn't sag around for hours after I watered it...no, it started returning to its natural state as if I had never missed a beat. How true this is to my relationship with the Lord. Or, rather, how I want it to be. Some days seem to take the life right out of me and I want to come to Him for the life-giving water...but I don't want to wallow in the misery of my situations. I want to immediately respond to this quenching. And, I realized tonight that the longer the plant goes without its soul food, the longer it takes to perk back up. And, really, after that amount of time, it never fully returns to "normal".

That, in a nutshell, is the point of why I am rambling about my houseplant...