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A Few of My Favorite Things - Part 1

Cheese and books, a delightful pair!

Some of you, like Sniff and Scurry, have raced ahead, scanning content in pursuit of clues to where this blog is headed. Others, having long forgotten the story of two mice and their wee little friends, have furrowed brows, a crooked smile, and are questioning whether to continue on or not. No worries, and no changes required here today. Merely a window of opportunity, a peak inside my maze.

Never was there a more apropos word to describe my life, or the season that I'm in, than the word "maze." My life seems to be a series of mishaps, adventures, and findings along an ever changing landscape. But one little thing that never changes is my love for books!

I like them by my bed. 
I like them near my chair.
I like them in my suitcase.
I like them everywhere!

There's just something about holding the ideas and thoughts of another in my hands. After all, as creative as I was designed to be, there is just so much more available waiting to influence. A book represents more than I know, a place I haven't been, a dream not considered, or a practice I haven't mastered.

I don't read nearly enough, mostly because I'm a slow read. This is in part because to do so requires pausing my thoughts long enough to hear someone else's all the way through. I know, I know, those who know me are snickering here. It's not that I don't want to hear them, your thoughts that is, it's simply that they stimulate mine ...to create or implement change, yours or mine!

Is it any wonder that last week while cleaning out my storage unit, in an effort to scale back yet one more time, I found myself rummaging through a tub of books? One by one I reflected on memories tied to each book. From where and what I was going through when I read it, to how I came to have it, and of course if I had even finished reading it. Before I knew it, I had built that oh so familiar stack of "those I wanted (no, needed) to read!" Laughing at myself, I considered the available space I had at home, which was growing increasingly smaller with every trip to storage. So, I made a decision. I would allow myself to pick four books. Now my mission was to choose... to pray and be led.

Who Moved My Cheese made the cut. After all, it was short, it had been years since I had read it, and it was relevant to recent events.

Seated on my daughter's couch, with my grand-dog curled up next to me, an infamous Oklahoma thunderstorm raging outside, and coffee in hand, I pulled out that "little book". Now mind you, it was merely my intention to put one more check mark on my invisible, but long, "To Do" list while sequestered here at my daughter's. 

I hadn't been reading long before I was considering my life, its circumstances, and the parallel it had to a maze. I have lived a life filled with bumping into walls, running into dead-ends, and even staying too long, all for the sake of cheese.

I snicker to myself as I consider my life in light of this book. My thoughts continue to wander.

When it comes to cheese, I typically stay with the basics. My favorite is Swiss. During one particular trip to the grocery store, I stumbled across what I thought was an unknown brand of Baby Swiss. Turns out it was Havarti, a different cheese entirely and I loved it! Then I came across Havarti with dill. Oh my, how delightfully delicious! To think I almost missed out.

So which of the four main characters do I resemble most? Haw, one of the littlepeople. Habitually I have waited on others, rather than pursue what I love. Plagued with a desire to not leave anyone behind, as I had been on many occasions, I overstay. That is until the truest part of me faces the greater fear, staying the same.

Whether I was born with this deep passion to pursue alternative avenues, aka change, or it was the result of having to carve out yet another work around, my life has been filled with transformations.

My sweet spot is that "aha" moment. That space in time where the familiar crashes into the new. A paradigm shift. That place where a shared idea solves a problem, or a wounded heart receives the truth.

Is it any wonder I love ...
II Cor. 3:18, where we are promised, and called, to "go from Glory to Glory?"
or ...
Psalm 23, where I am lead to through a maze of restoration, healing, and fear, right into His presence? 

One doesn't have to look far, or listen long, to recognize that it's the words on the page that intrigue, inspire, and challenge me. His Words. I love to hear them, use them, and share them with anyone who will listen, read, or define them too me.

I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back. Phil. 3:12-14

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