Last weekend, I was having an all-too-frequent moment of insecurity. I’m not sure there’s a way to avoid these here on earth, as long as we’re clothed in this fading flesh of ours. Everyone I know is afraid they may not be enough now and then.
Gosh, we’re a neurotically flawed bunch. I try not to wallow, though. As Lorelei would say: Oy with the poodles already.
Oy with the poodles already is Gilmore Girls talk for Enough nonsense, darling, get to the point.
Perspective is a gift.
Recently, my path has been peppered with stories like this piece, You May Want to Marry My Husband, in the New York Times by author Amy Krouse Rosenthal. (I dare you not to cry when you read it.)
These stories remind me how sweet and precious life is, and all my fears and insecurities just sort of melt away in the light of that revelation.
Then Morgan and I saw La La Land last weekend. We were completely caught up in the melancholy beauty of it. After our stunned silence at the end, we went through the expected stages of grief over the next couple of days: shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, and at long last, acceptance and hope. We haven’t stopped talking about our dreams and true love and who we most want to be in the world. Morgan is frequently at the piano, now, playing the notes of City of Stars for me. Life is grand, you guys.
Sixteen years ago, I was working for a production designer in Los Angeles, and every day really was Another Day of Sun. I wanted to make all the lovely things and move to France and blaze the sky with love. But God had other plans for me.
I regret nothing, except that I let my all-too-frequent moments of insecurity slow me down now and then.
I’m rereading Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre for the sixth or seventh time right now. I’ve only ever had this one copy, and it’s full of notes I’ve made through the years. Last night I read a section that I have highlighted a million times in my soul:
“It is vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility; they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.”
Oh, Charlotte, all the yeses and amens to you. I am weary of the comfortable place of doubt. I am tired of excuses and fears that keep me from blazing the sky with love, even if the ways I’m able to do it are so frequently ordinary: a kind hello to a stranger, money for the man on the corner with a sign, food for a sick friend, funny text threads, patience for my children, faithfulness to my husband.
I believe in an Ordinary Revolution of Love. I believe that kindness and mercy can save a dying world. I believe that each of us is living a life that can matter in big ways when we sacrifice and love others in small ways. I believe that an Ordinary Revolution of Love is what saved me once from all my sin twenty-three years ago, and has kept saving me, every day since then.
When I love others well, I am loving God well. Matthew 25 assures me that what I do for you, I am doing for Him. Isn’t that a beautiful truth? It means that love never, ever has to end.
Oy with the poodles already.
When I get to the end of it all, I want to be able to say that I loved Him well.
There is nothing else but that, forever. Just an Ordinary Revolution of Love, an upending of evil and all the sad things as we dance into eternity. Blaze on, friends.
As a tiny act of love from me, how about a free Ordinary Revolution tshirt? We’re having these shirts made for our women’s retreat at Mosaic, and I’m going to give two away on March 31. If you want to win one, all you have to do is subscribe to my email list here, at the bottom of my home page. I totally hope you win!
