Boots McBlog

There’s an old hymn we used to sing in the stoic church where I grew up.   It was one of those songs on Sunday night’s when the music minister would do “open hymn” night and let the congregation choose our songs that would be at the top of the list.   It had a happy beat  ( although we did NOT dance to it).  The pace of the song slowed at the end for dramatic effect before picking back up in speed.   The words went something like this.

Count your blessings

Count them one by one

Count your blessings, see what God has done

Count your blessings.

Count them.

one.

by.

one.

Count your many blessings, see what God has done.

This past year has been an interesting journey for me, to say the least.   I began my “rest” /  ”creative sabbatical”   about this time last year.   I had no idea what would happen.   I just knew I wasn’t going to be the one in control this time.   You see,  on this date TWO years ago today,  I was sitting in Chicago across from a guy named Morty.    Morty had invited my creative director and me  to his packaging showroom to discuss a new product line of paper goods which would be part of the re-brand for the company which hired me to do a complete overhaul of it’s image.  This new job for me was supposed to be all travel, all glamour.  Except,  here I was across from Morty.  He had promised to provide lunch as part of our visit.   He did.  It was corned beef on white bread which he made himself in the company breakroom and he presented it  to us on a styrofoam plate.   My creative director and I were slightly stunned.   We had envisioned a steak at Ruth Cris.  I would’ve even taken the soup and salad at the Olive Garden at this point. he continued to amuse us.  He asked if we wanted a pickle on the side.  How nice he was providing options.  And then Morty made us split (yes, split!)  a kosher dill spear.   My friend and I did everything in our power to not laugh.  We created a new definition for being “morty-fied”   The next day the trip continued much along this path.   I often checked for hidden cameras in our rental car.  I was convinced we  were trapped in a Wes Anderson film.    One thing for certain – this job was not glamorous, nor was it a good fit.   I knew in the brief time I had been on staff,  the job was sucking the life out of me.  One breath at a time.

I returned home.   My boss and I agreed to “mutually separate”.  I suddenly found myself in a place I had never been since college – without a job.   I panicked.   The very next day,  a good friend invited me to oversee development and marketing for a local non-profit.   It seemed like a good fit on paper, at least the part of the paper I could see.  It took nine months to figure out what was on the rest of that paper,  So, it was a YEAR ago today,  I sat in a board room revealing the brutal facts with a board of directors.   Our cause was good.  The economy was not.   Our needs were high.  Our donations were low.   To be good stewards of what we had been gifted,  I recommended  we close the doors and donate our remaining funds to research.    I was without a job – again.    This time I did something different.  I didn’t call a bunch of people to find the next gig.  Part of me wanted to be angry, victimized, sad, bitter, for all the things the last two years had thrown my way  which had not gone according to plan.   Except…those emotions took too much energy.  I was tired.   Instead, I prayed.  I really really really really prayed.    In the way that only the  Holy Spirit moves, I could hear God say in my heart, “be still”

In my stillness this past year,  I’ve spent more time hanging out with God.  I’ve studied the scripture more.  I’ve prayed more.   In June , I had the opportunity to learn how to take my new study habits and turn it into a talk to encourage others.   In the class I was taking,  I was assigned the passage of Matthew 5: 1-12 to present as my topic.     Matthew 5:1-12 is the Beatitudes – that  long list of paradoxical verses.  Blesssed are the Poor.  Blessed are the meek.  Blessed are the hungry.  Although I had read those verses a hundred times previously in my life,  suddenly  they dug into my heart and reflected every experience I had been through with my jobs, my volunteer commitments, and in my personal struggles the past two years.   After I shared my talk with my classmates and the class was dismissed,  my friend approached me to share it on a grander scale with the women in our church.   This was God’s way of keeping me firmly planted in these verses from June until September.    In addition to the talk I presented in September,  I was asked to co-lead a bible study.   The study was …. you guessed it – The Beatitudes.   God clearly wanted me to learn this lesson.   June through November he has had me firmly planted in this sermon he gave on a no name hill.

Today,  - two years after meeting Morty,  one year after that board meeting, and  year of resting,   I “get” these verses in a way I never have before understood them in my life.  I know better what it means to be blessed. As I count my blessings this year,  I am, of course, thankful for family, friends, shelter, food,  air,  flowers, shoes,  dresses, music and  laughter.  More than these, I am thankful  for the blessings of:

being at the end of my rope

losing what I thought was most dear to me

being content with just who I am

having a good appetite – for God

caring for others

getting my inside world (my heart and mind)  right

for the opportunity to help others cooperate instead of compete

for having friends distance themselves from me or losing friendships altogether because of my faith

This Thanksgiving,  I am seeing more clearly what God has done and is doing in my life.   I’m counting these blessings one. by. one.

The Beatitudes ~  Matthew 1-12 (the message)

When Jesus saw his ministry drawing huge crowds, he climbed a hillside. Those who were apprenticed to him, the committed, climbed with him. Arriving at a quiet place, he sat down and taught his climbing companions. This is what he said:

³“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

⁴“You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

⁵“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

⁶“You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

⁷“You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

⁸“You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

⁹“You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

¹⁰“You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

^11-12“Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.

Happy Thanksgiving, Y’all.   Grace to each of you.

The power of words.   Last week I shared with you my experience of words that hurt and words that heal. I charged us all with learning to find, see, and share the good.  Dig for the gold.     When we begin to train our hearts and spirits to look for the good,  we usually find it.   Suddenly,  the good we discover causes our burdens to seem lighter.  Our faces become brighter.   Finding good – when we try  - is easy.    The hard part,  I think,  is stopping to acknowledge the good we find.   Telling a person what we love about him or her.   Sending the encouraging word.     In an instant gratification society,   we really have no excuses.  At our fingertips are a myriad of ways to send a kudos.   Compose an email.  Write on our friend’s facebook wall.   Send the text message.   Tweet the whole world what a great @person someone is.   These are all fine ways to boost someone’s day.    I love sending random text messages to friends to let them know I’m thinking about him/ her.     I adore getting witty text / facebook messages of encouragement.   “These shoes have you written all over them”    or  ”I”m eating Italian chili,  it says hi”  or  ”Your new RED lipstick is knockout, sister”

The downside to all of our online, instant inspiration is it fades almost as instantly as it appears.  There is power in words indeed, but words are far more powerful when written  - handwritten – on paper.    Joy multiplies for the author and recipient.    On dreary days, I dig out old letters sweet friends have sent my way.   Suddenly,  there is a warmth of remembrance and I am energized all over again.  (I don’t recall searching for an old text message)     When a person makes time to find the stationery, write the letter,  purchase the postage, and drop it in the mail,  all those little steps add up.   Today,  with our move away from paper communication,  I think Hallmark could amend their age old tagline.  It’s no longer “when you care enough to send the very best”  - We’ve come to a time  ”when you care enough to send”

Sending a note isn’t as time consuming as think, when you make it part of your schedule.    This is something I’ve challenged myself to do each week.   The first thing I have on my to-do list every Monday morning is to write 1 to 3 notes of encouragement or gratitude.   Before I do anything else to get my week started,  I write the notes.    I confess I don’t always do this.   However, the Mondays I keep to my list and sit down to write the notes are  the  Mondays ( and weeks!) that become easier to handle.   Not to mention,  the fun I have securing my personalized stationery. What a plethora of fun styles and colors abound these days.   (Personalized notes are one of my favorite things!)

While design and style of paper are exciting,  in the end the fashion of the paper doesnt’ matter.   In fact, the notes written to me which I return to time and again are a words written on  post-it notes.    Yep,  good ol sticky post it notes.  They are stuck in the front of my 2007 planner.    At the time,  a wiser woman sat down with the newly formed Junior League Board of Directors.   We all had become fast friends.  We were excited for the journey of service ahead of us.  Our wise friend knew there would be less bright days ahead of us as we served together and beyond.   She handed each of us a post it note pad.   She instructed us to write “one word’  on separate notes which described each woman/ friend in the room.   Then we went around the room and each friend was lauded with the  ”(Jennifer) is…”  followed by the one word.   At the end of the assignment, we gave each other the post it notes.  That day I stuck them in my planner.   I looked at them often. They helped me get through that year…and the year after and the year after.   Simple post-it notes.    Is there someone in your office or home or tennis team or bible study that could use a post it pick-me up?   Stick it on his/ her computer screen when they aren’t looking.  Maybe put it on their windshield.   Or even stick it in an envelope and send it through the mail.   How would you feel if you opened your mail or sat down to your computer to see hand scrolled   “love that dress, sister!”    or “your creativity is inspiring”   or  ” Thank you for making me laugh”  or  ”You are loved”   or  ”I believe in you”

In the end,  encouraging notes,  no matter the vocabulary utilized, boil down to that last thought.  ”I believe in you”.    Imagine the impact you can have by sending your words.

In his book 25 Ways to Win with People,  John C Maxwell tells the story of a discouraged writer.   The writer was stuggling for years to get someone to notice his poetry.   Then one day the unknown writer Walt Whitman received this letter:

Dear sir,

I am not blind to the worth of the wonderful gift of Leaves of Grass.

I find it the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom that America has yet contributed.

I greet you at the beginning of a great career.

It was  signed by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Walt Whitman may have authored  Leaves of Grass,  but this letter from Emerson was leaves of gold.   Can’t you  just imagine the energy that surged through the heart of Whitman when he read it?     Your words / my words hold the same potential to strengthen, invigorate, and inspire when we choose to share them.    Make your list of folks who need a little boost and the ones who may not know they always give you a boost.    Find your stationery.   Pick up that post it note pad and let’s get to writing and SENDING our  very own leaves of gold.

Nearly a month ago, the world watched with bated breath and prayed as 33 Chilean miners were rescued from 69 days stuck near the center of the earth.

I’m going to be completely honest, most everything I knew about mining up until the story of the Chilean miners, I learned from Loretta Lynn. Yes, it was very small minded of me to not even think that miners live outside of West Virginia – much less in other countries. The Chliean miners taught me better. I started to do a little digging myself.  I found historical illustrations from the 1600’s  which depict mining throughout the Ming Dynasty in China. Obviously, mining has been around a long long time. In addition to being an ancient profession,  I learned mining is listed as one of the most dangerous jobs on earth. But what exactly is it these miners do? These workers are charged with chipping away and reaping ore or minerals from the earth. The ore is then refined to valuable elements – fuel, diamonds, gold, molybedenum. (I don’t know what that latter does, I just always liked that word and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put it in another blog post. So there it is) My research revealed mines are operating all over the world from West Virginia, Chile, Germany, Australia, and continue in China.

The more I thought about these miners across the world, I became aware of the miners right here in my life. In her book, “Getting the Pretty Back”, Molly Ringwald ( yes, the 80’s redhead) writes a quirky insightful look at friendships. She explores first friendships, lifelong friendships, best friendships, facebook friendships. Then right smack dab in the middle of the book on fiery rose hued pages are the words:

“ BEWARE THE UNDERMINER!

As inspiring as a good friend can be, there is nothing quite so demoralizing as a bad friend. Often, however, they slither by undetected, discreetly ruining your life”.

Ringwald goes on to pull in the expertise of her friend Mike Albo who has written a book on the entire phenomenon of the Underminer. He defines the “underminer” as “ a friend who is dedicated – either seriously or casually – to making you feel terrible about yourself at all times.” Albo says, “Underminers are strangely hotwired into your soul. He / she can detect even the tiniest whisper of doubt or regret you harbor. If you are feeling unsure or insecure about something you can bet your life that your Underminer will bring it up, delicately, with a moony look of concern on his/ her face. ‘ That’s great about your raise, now what about your capacity to love’. “

Albo continues humorously with further tips for spotting the Underminer(s) in our lives. As I read each of the scenarios I wanted to shout, “I KNOW HER!”

I thought back to the time I was 13 standing awkwardly in the mirror and I stupidly wondered aloud, “Am I pretty?” Then the popular friend next to me quipped. “There are cute girls and pretty girls. And you, JoBeth, are …just cute”

Or in college, when my “sis” called from her dressing room, “This dress is soooo cute. Too bad it is swal–lowwww-ing me …but it will fit you.”

Or in recent adulthood when I worked myself up into a  certifiable tizzy,  then I called a friend to say, “do you think there is any way in the world (insert total mayhem) could happen?!”. From the other side of the line I heard cooly and deadpanned,

“probably.”

What? Probably? You’re supposed to side with me?

OR even just a few weeks ago when I was trying to dash into the grocery store incognito for ONE item only to be discovered. Drats! So, in the “Hey let’s catch-up on life in 5 minutes” conversation the words emerged from Ms. Full Basket Shopper , “I’ve decided I’m taking a break, too. I’m gonna be like you… and follow your path to depression and poverty”

Did she really just say “depression and poverty?” Blood drained from face and escaped via the gaping wound in my chest. I am sure it was pooling at my feet, but she didn’t even notice. Everything within me wanted to scream “CLEAN UP on aisle 4!”

In all of these instances, simple words became pick-axes. Did they know the power of their words? Did they mean to strike the blows right at my core? Are these the Underminers in my life? I thought they were friends, but time and time again I found myself battered. I spilled my innermost thoughts in confidence only to have them use them as a guidemap where to sling their ax. Is there a prize to unearth the worthless dirt, insecurities, and lies I tell myself? Do Underminers experience joy when they hit those tender spots? I’d like to think these girls didn’t mean to be cruel. Sadly, I know what Ringwald and Albo say is true. There are honest to goodness UNDERMINERS right here among us. We would be foolish not to acknowledge it. In our closet circles, the best of us have them lurking. Even Jesus had Judas.

Jesus also had 11 other friends. Friends who surrounded him with love and encouragement. I’m so thankful my life is rich with friends like this – friends whose words heal. I call these beauties – the GOLDMINERS. They are the masters of their craft. Goldminers don’t pick up the dirt and sling it. They dig and sift to find the beauty. Once these friends find our prettiest parts, they hold it up right to our faces (even the smallest nuggets) and say,

“I’ve struck GOLD! You. are. valuable”

Is it any wonder there is an old adage. “Make new friends. Keep the old. One is Silver. The other gold”

My oldest dearest friend in life (we’ve known each other for 27 years now!) is the epitome of a Goldminer. She is wise. She is kind. And just last week I opened my mail to find a simple typed list from her that read:

JoBeth is…

loved by God ( John 15:12)

adopted as His child ( Eph 1:5)

reigning in life (Rom 5:17)

reflecting the Lord’s glory ( 2 Cor 3:18)

a friend of Jesus ( John 15:15)

a new creation (2 Cor 5:17)

perfected (Heb 10:14)

holy and blameless before him ( Eph 1:4)

a citizen of heaven (Phil 3:20)

tansformed into His likeness ( 2 Cor 3:18)

chosen and appointed by God ( john 15:16)

resting in the shadow of the Almighty ( Ps 91:1)

beloved (Col 3:12)

a daughter of God ( rom 8:10)

seated in the heavenly realms (eph 2:6)

a temple for God’s spirit ( 1 Cor 3:16)

Wow! Imagine what I feel when I see this list next to my computer.

Each morning we have a choice. We are equipped with the same tools ( our words).   As we head out to our mines, we can sling our picks and tear one another apart, break someone down, expose someone’s dirt.

OR

We can find the beauty. We can sift for the good, the lovely, the admirable, the excellent, the gracious. It is these discoveries where we joyfully can exclaim our jackpot findings. Help someone see their worth.

Underminer or Goldminer? Which one are you?

I hear there’s gold in them hills. Isn’t it about time we start a gold rush?

I tweet.  I’m on the Twitters.  My name over there is @bootsmc. – go figure.  Twitter is a rarity amongst my dearest friends.  They mock my mild obsession.  Facebook still overwhelms them.    One of them commented the other day after speaking to a gal who knows me solely through twitter,  ”I always think we are so much alike and then I’m reminded you have a whole other life online”.    It is easy for a statement like that to be misconstrued.  There are many people online who are completely different in person.   My goal is that I am authentic.  What you read on facebook, twitter, or this blog is the real me.    To keep online self in line,  I began a practice over a month ago.  A simple tweet to align my thoughts, my heart, my prayers for the day.   Sometimes it may be a lesson I’m trying to grasp or a personal pep talk.  Some tweets are  inspirational thoughts paraphrased and simplified from books I’m reading or  they are simple words God lays on my heart.    Sometimes these tweets are inspired by a friend’s needs.   Sometimes they are down right silly.      I didn’t mean for them to become a habit, but after 21 straight days they kinda did.  I had no idea my twitter friends would appreciate them.   Their feedback and encouragement have been priceless.    My friend Heather calls these particular tweets  ”nuggets” – and if I didn’t think I’d get sued I’d call them “the Mcnuggets”.  On the safe side,  I’ll just consider them my { tweets of grace }.  Here’s  a look back over the last month.  Perhaps a few will inspire you to jot down near your computer or in your journal or retweet.     Feel free to catch them daily online – they’ll be the ones between the pretty brackets published between 8 – 9 am or hang tight and I’ll post another grouping next month.  Until then…

be brave

breathe

be first to say hello

make a memory that will always cause a smile

woo pig sooie

rest

stop doubtin & believe

say thank you  and mean it

forgive

take good notes

celebrate a friend’s success

call your mom

sing

take a chance

find the beauty

chin up

s-t-r-e-t-c-h

shake your tail feathers

have an adventure

begin

begin again

give grace

face the brutal facts | retain unwavering faith

be uncommon

finish strong  - or weary.  Just finish

think BIG

trust

explore the possibilites

restore

show up

tell a girl – over 70 – she’s pretty

laugh too loud

keep your nose clean

unplug

go!