One of my very favorite TV shows is the Mary Tyler Moore Show. It’s quality, well-written entertainment. A couple of things in particular stick out to me.

Every Mary Richards needs a Rhoda Morgenstern

The greatest characters are the most relatable. We can all relate to Mary because she has all the insecurities, crazy people and uncanny situations in her life that we all do sometimes. But what helped Mary through it all? Her best friend Rhoda. Mary and Rhoda weren’t always close. In the pilot, Rhoda tried everything she could to keep Mary from moving into the apartment she wanted. But ultimately the two were inseparable. Sometimes we find friends in the most unlikely places. Where would we be without them? So be kind to the people around you. You never know when those random characters might become regular co-stars in your life.

You’re going to make it after all 

I relate to Mary because she moved away from everything familiar and started over without a real plan. In the opening credits as the theme song plays, I see myself as Mary walks through the crowded streets of Minneapolis and throws her beret in the air. It’s all about gaining confidence in who you are. The first season the last line was, “You might just make it after all.” After that, the words changed to “You’re going to make it after all,” because we could all see that she did. And that’s life. You’re not always sure of yourself, but give it some time and have a little grace for yourself. You’re going to make it after all.

When I was little my dad used to start this verse, and then I had to finish it. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24).

There’s a reason I picked today to blog about this. I don’t really like Mondays. Who does, really? Now, this is true confession time. A lot of mornings when my alarm goes off at the crack of dawn, my first thought is a grumble. Sometimes my first thought is a not-so-nice word. It’s discouraging when the first thing you have to do in the morning is repent of a bad attitude, before you even open your eyes.

The psalmist didn’t really give any qualifications in his little ditty. There’s no, “We’ll rejoice unless we are too tired” or “We’ll rejoice as long as things are going our way.” Not even, “We’ll rejoice if King Saul quits trying to butcher us today.” (I don’t know if David wrote this one, but let’s just do with it, ok?) Nope. Just, “Thank you God for this day, good or bad as it may be.”

C.S. Lewis wrote that the battle of who is in charge of each day is won or lost before you get out of bed. He made a practice of turning his day over to God before he would pull the covers off. I get that now. It takes all the guesswork out if you just recognize who it’s about right away.

So now, when the alarm goes off and I start to feel grumbly, I take a breath and say, “No, this is your day, God, and you have a plan for me in it. Help me to honor you in it, no matter what it brings.” That doesn’t mean the day is all rainbows and smiles and it doesn’t mean that I always say it happily, but it helps me remember there’s a bigger picture. Even on Mondays.

I generally find Taylor Swift annoying. And I don’t even like this song, except for these two lines that I can’t stop thinking about:

We’re happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time
It’s miserable and magical, oh yeah

Cause, see, I am 22. And that’s what it feels like a lot of the time. That said, I have enjoyed reading Paul Angone’s blog lately. I never believed there was such a thing as a quarter life crisis until I graduated from college. And then I realized there is, but it’s really just transition blues. All Groan Up will help you remember that it will be ok if you ever relate to Taylor Swift. Take a Gander.

I didn’t grow up in a church that made a really big deal out of Holy Week, other than an annual Maundy Thursday service. I also didn’t grow up observing Lent.

This year, though, the season hit me in a different way. I found myself wanting more meaning and purpose in my every day life and my relationship with God. I felt I needed to give up television for Lent. It’s probably not as spiritual as it sounds. It’s not as if I figured up how much time I spent wasted each week watching TV and replaced it with prayer and scripture. No, I just recognized that it was eating up too much of my time and followed the call to let it go. I read a little more. I slept a little more. I really missed it few times, but not as much as I expected to.

Then came Holy Week. On Thursday as I was driving home from work, I began to feel a deep insecurity. The lies began to pour in:

You’re not good enough. You are still guilty for those past sins unless you do x, y, z. If you want to be forgiven, you have to jump through hoops. You don’t really have anything to offer anyone. You are wasting your life. You do not put enough effort into your relationship with God, and he is not pleased with you.

And then the voice of truth broke in, through a song on the radio:

Hello, my name is Child of the One, True King. I’ve been saved, I’ve been changed, I have been set free. Amazing grace is the song I sing. Hello, my name is Child of the One True King.

I realized that Maundy Thursday is an appropriate time to grieve over my broken state. I have done wrong things. I need to grasp the gravity of that. But if I stay in the guilt and regret, I have missed the point. It’s not who I am anymore, because of Easter.

This morning as I sat in church, I began to hear the lies again. But just as quickly came the truth, and it drowned them out. There is nothing I can do to earn a relationship with God. Just as I could not initiate it, I cannot do anything to keep the grace I have been given. It is mine because of God’s love, which of course doesn’t make sense. There is nothing logical about loving those who repeatedly wrong you. Most of the time we call that enabling, or co-dependence, or abuse. But Jesus calls it redemption. I am not loved more when I am reading my Bible than when I am at work writing articles about hot rods. I am loved just because. That is grace. And it is enough.

Happy Easter!

Here’s a funny tidbit about my kaleidoscope heart: I love African babies. It’s not a love that’s easily explained. And it’s not a phase. Unless ten years constitutes a phase, cause I haven’t been able to get it out of my system for a decade. I read about people like Mary Slessor or Katie Davis and am ready to buy a one-way ticket. Sometimes I think my blood really runs red, yellow, and black like the Ugandan flag. And when ever I see faces like these, something in my heart wakes up and I’m suddenly a mommy who just needs to give some cuddles.

This is my Ugandan brother James. Can you see the resemblance?

This is Katherine, who should have been my little sister, Katie Rose.

And these are the precious faces that I always wonder about. Where are they now? What kind of hopes and dreams are in their beautiful hearts? I don’t know their names. But I am certain in Heaven we will know each other. And what a reunion of laughter and hugs that will be!

This is the land I get homesick for.

I’ve always had a hard time with the concept of grace.

I don’t really know why that is, but I’ve always seen things in black and white. I always related to the older son in the Prodigal Son parable. I never liked the parable of the workers who came late but were paid more.

When I was in college I rolled my eyes at people who talked about quarter-life crises and how post-graduation is the worst time of life. But I think I get it now that I’ve been there. It is tough. It takes a lot of courage. And if you allow yourself, you will grow so much.

One of the things I’ve been learning about through all the ups and downs is grace. How miserable life is without it. I’ve found that I have to give some to myself. I’ve learned that struggling is normal, not a sign of failure. It’s easy to kick yourself when you’re down. Don’t do it. Meditate on Whose you are. Soak in the grace He has given you. You are loved just because, not based on what you do. You have the freedom to struggle; accept it. Learn how to struggle well and you will find a new intimacy with God. That makes it worthwhile.

I hate goodbyes. Always have. I’m really not very good at them. I don’t even like to watch other people say goodbye. When I worked at the front desk in college, the worst part of my job was being able to see families hugging their students goodbye at the end of the weekend.

Transition is tough for that very reason. You can be heading to something wonderful and exciting, but it’s still hard to say goodbye to what you’re leaving behind. I’ve been in transition for about a year now. Longer, if you count from when my parents first moved away from my childhood home. That’s all just part of growing up. I’ve started to feel settled in my California home. But now I’m getting ready for another transition to a new job. And I’m so very excited for the future as I start my career. I know that God has blessed me with this opportunity at this time for a reason. But it’s been a hard week of goodbyes, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t matter.

I wasn’t at my old job very long, but I have felt incredibly valued there, and quickly came to care deeply for the rest of the team. It’s going to be hard to walk out the door for the last time tonight.

I will always maintain that the reason goodbyes hurt is because we weren’t made for them. I firmly believe that the first goodbye came when Adam and Eve had to leave their garden home. That was the beginning of a long string of goodbyes. Each one hurts. And that’s ok. They are supposed to, so go ahead and grieve. Each time we have to say goodbye, it’s a little reminder that we don’t belong here.

Maybe you’re in transition, too. Just know that it’s ok. The goodbyes will always sting, but allow them to be a reminder of where we’re heading. Let that fill you with hope and joy, even in the midst of the hurt.

I found this picture on Pinterest one day. I don’t know where it’s from originally, but I love it because I think it’s so true. Not that I’ve ever been in love. But still, if you’ve followed the blog for long at all you know that I believe love is a verb more than anything else. And if you’re really going to love someone, you have to do it in the hardest moments. The commitment means nothing unless it’s kept in the toughest places.

There’s a song that I think fits well with this picture. Maybe you’ve heard it; Stubborn Love by The Lumineers.

“When we were young oh, oh we did enough

When it got cold ooh, ooh we bundled up

I can’t be told ah, ah it can’t be done

It’s better to feel pain than nothing at all

The opposite of love’s indifference

So pay attention now, I’m standing on your porch screaming out

And I won’t leave until you come downstairs”

Ok, obviously I’m not talking about toxic or abusive relationships. I hate that I even have to type that disclaimer. But the honest truth is that the ones we love most can hurt us most. They can make us the angriest. And make no mistake, they will. But that’s no reason to walk away. When love gets cold, bundle up. Don’t let yourself grow indifferent. Keep standing on the porch. That’s what Christ has done for us.

Who do you need to love stubbornly and hold an umbrella for today?

Ever feel like a mess of random pieces that don’t fit together?

I sure do, but I’m finding that’s a pretty normal part of growing up. That’s the beautiful thing about people, really. We are all made up of many different little pieces of loves and passions. And what’s cool is that we don’t have to be good at everything, or enjoy everything. It’s actually pretty cool to watch someone love something you care nothing about.

Now, a lot of times it’s difficult to figure out how all the things your heart loves fit together. And in our culture, we tend to put a lot of pressure on ourselves to find the one thing we were born to do. I don’t think that’s really how it works at all.  I think hearts are like kaleidoscopes, and that each little piece is there for a reason. Those pieces will look different at different seasons of life. It’s not neat, or predictable, and it probably won’t look the same twice. We just had to trust that Someone’s guiding the pieces to make something beautiful.

A thought popped in to my head a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been pondering it since.

We are much less important than we think we are. But infinitely more valuable than we will ever understand.

We are all prideful. We are all selfish. We all naturally look out for our own interests. We have to learn to put others first. We are much less important than we tend to believe.

But we are loved. Not because of anything we do or do not do. Because we are imago dei. That gives each of us worth, just because we are. One of my favorite scriptures seems cutesy at first. But to one struggling with discouragement and insecurity, it is a balm for the soul.

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the  ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” -Matthew 10:29-31

Our Father values us. Just because. And that’s why we have worth. That’s all we need. I’ll never look at a bird the same way again.

Take heart: He cares. You are more valuable than you can imagine. Just because.