The Sky-Painter

I had to go to work early this morning ('early', meaning I had to be there by 7:00 A. M.), and on the way, I got to see the beginning of the sunrise. 

I like sunrises much more than sunsets. I've seen lots more sunsets, but they always strike me as a little sad - an ending of something. I love nighttime, but I don't like sunsets; they just seem melancholy somehow. Sunrises seem happier - a beginning. 

But even though I'm an early riser, I usually don't watch the sun get up. 

 

The one this morning was fantastic. I was speechless as I drove, wanting to stare, yet not wanting to run off the road. The clouds made a heavy slate-blue roof below the sky. But like a lid on a pot, not quite closed, there was a wide crack on the horizon. And through the crack, between the tops of the far-off trees and the cloudy lid, was a blinding display of gold. I can't describe it without sounding cliche. How do people usually describe sunrises or sunsets?! 'Pink and purple and orange and gold and clouds and streaks and sun'. But those words are so pitiful. I won't even try. But trust me, people have paid good money to see things that couldn't begin to compare to this free display of art and glory. 

Free. Every morning. But how many people get up early to watch the sun rise? How many sunrises have 'gone to waste' so to speak? How many beyond-amazing ones has the Lord made, not because someone's watching, but 'just because'? Just because He's scheduled the sun to start the day. 

 

Every morning He makes one. And how many have been appreciated? Lots, maybe. But not a majority, and certainly not all of them! Yet He keeps making them, every morning, quietly, no fuss, no irritation if no one congratulates Him on their beauty; they're just there for anyone who would like to enjoy them. And then they fade, and are never seen again. Each art piece an original, a one-of-a-kind, and the mold broken. 

Famous artists' work is insured for up to millions of dollars. And most of it is pathetic in comparison to what is available for our enjoyment every day, no charge.

 

Suddenly, the analogy hit me in the face. The answer to a recent personal struggle, literally displayed for me in the sky.

How much unnoticed, unappreciated work am I willing to do? Am I willing to do what's right even if I'm so tired it feels like the weight of my bones is separating them from each other, go the extra mile to lighten a friend's load when my load is crushing me, or deny myself something I'd like so that someone else can enjoy it? Even if no one cares? Gives me credit or a pat on the back? Or worst of all, if no one even knows that I've sacrificed?

How could I not be willing? He paints the sky for me. He can give me strength, if I will just ask for it. 

Oh God give me strength!

Merry Christmas - 2014

Random Photos | July 30 - September 25

[Mostly] Work-related Relationship Struggles

Well, the first week of school is 'in the books', and with it my first week as VRCA's new secretary. I really enjoyed the work, yet the end of the week has left me feeling hesitant, unsure, and discouraged.

I don't accept praise easily. Something always tells me, "They feel like they have to say that," "They're just being polite," or "They don't really know what they're talking about - even if I did a little 'something' right, I still didn't do good enough".
But criticism (or perceived criticism) soaks me through, even penetrating to the hollow places inside my bones and filling them up - becoming part of who I am.

Condescension is the hardest to deal with. As if I'm too naive, sheltered, inexperienced, immature, out-of-step, or weak to handle [fill in the blank] situation.
If I'm doing something wrong, I'd much rather someone come to me kindly and frankly about it, than bottle up their amusement or frustration and just emit a fake politeness that I can see right through but can't discern the cause of!

A dubious once-over from a few different parents looms up bigger in my memories from the week than the respectful, confident treatment from a couple of others.

The skeptical, silent mannerisms of one or two teachers drowns out the friendly, eager mannerisms of others.

Working in my cubicle and hearing three school officials having a discussion in low voices, and thinking surely they must be discussing my mistakes, shakes and discourages me, in spite of the reassurances they've expressed.

Maybe the parents didn't realize they looked so critical. Maybe they weren't critical!
Maybe the quiet teachers are just naturally undemonstrative and calm. Maybe it has nothing to do with me.
Maybe the three officials were discussing an issue with a student, or a parent, or a teacher, or someone not even connected to the school, and just didn't want any little ears that might be out to catch the confidential things they were consulting about. Maybe my mistakes and slow learning don't bother them at all.

Yet, having grown up in the shadow of others' natural shine, and having always felt that I was a disappointment to certain ones over me, it's hard for me to brush off either real or imagined disdain from others.

So, all in all, and considering other challenges and difficulties of my current life situation, I ended up Friday pretty 'down'.

Last night I sat down and wrote the Lord a letter; just poured out all my struggles and sorrow and bitterness and vulnerability to Him. I've heard that writing is just 'sitting down at a typewriter and bleeding'. It sounds really weird, but I completely understand the analogy. I sat down at the computer and 'bled' in front of my loving, forgiving, understanding, wonderful God. And He came through, just as He always does.

This post is a next-morning view of the situation. I'm still struggling between confidence and insecurity about this new job, and about my relationships with people in general. But things are brighter. And as He's helped me through my life up until this point, so I know He will continue.