Boundaries.

Another gorgeous and happy day. I hung my paintings, which look so stunning I cried (just a little bit, though!) I also bought a fern. My living room actually feels like a parlor, but not so stuffy.

I'm usually not one for decorating, which is why I've been here for nearly a year without attempting any kind of furniture rearranging, much less hanging pictures. I have always wanted (or at least I've said I've always wanted) my dwelling to be a safe place - a refuge - for others as well as myself. Without compromising my health and my sanity, I will give as much as I can to those in need of physical, emotional, or spiritual support. It just takes some natural intuition, lots of love, a good dose of Holy Spirit, and life experiences - and suddenly you'll find you often know a good thing to say or do.

I have been learning boundaries lately. Boundaries at work, in ministry, with neighbors, with good friends. When to say "no" and when to stay quiet. I guess I've messed up so much I'm learning what I need to do to protect my sanity, because regardless of what my overzealous conscience thinks, it's not my job to save the world.

For me, that's another kind of surrender. I can give God my life, but I want to take care of everyone else. It's just another thing I want to control, to fix - other people's problems. There are times when I have the opportunity to do that - to make someone a meal, to have a good talk, to let someone spend the night. And there are times when it is best to stop being involved. You know what they say - "You can't help everybody." Here's my response: "I'll help whomever I can. God will help everybody, be it through me or through his Holy Spirit, or through another human like me." It's putting them and their problems in God's hands.

This is not to say that when I see a need, I just ask God to take care of it and keep walking. I have to realize what I'm committing to before I take on a responsibility and make sure I'm up for that. It is so easy to burn out doing ministry, to become disillusioned and tired. And then you become a burden yourself. So you absolutely have to take really good care of yourself. And sometimes that means saying "no" or directing a person to someone else.

Side random thought: Whenever I can't think of what to do in a situation, I consider what my response would be to a friend presenting to me the same problem. Then I do whatever I would tell my friend to do. It works! Have you ever done this? It's always easier to give advice than to remember to follow it.

Control.

(These are my two-week old kittens!)

Today was wonderful for a lot of reasons! Enough sleep last night, first day of summer (and the sun was hot, for once!), latte and cinnamon roll and conversation for breakfast, the end of a productive week at work, and Friday, of course!

On Fridays at work, we skip our breaks and take an hour-long lunch, driving to some cheap food place, where we enjoy some time away from work, as well as each others' company. Today we went to Taco Bell, and after half an hour of stuffing our faces and laughing with/at each other, we were done eating. Three of us decided to visit a Japanese tea shop on the other side of the shopping lot. I had been aware of the presence of this shop since I'd moved here, but it said "bubble tea" underneath the sign, and I don't like bubble tea.

Well! The next half hour was restful and enjoyable and full of company of people I love. A gal named Martha sat us down in the tea ceremony chairs and made us small cups of tea. We chatted with her and with each other. The prices were reasonable and we each bought a bit. The experience, in the middle of a hectic workday, was like a breath of fresh air (or a cup of hot tea...).

Then back to work. We worked fast. We worked hard. We flew around like little bees. Then it was time to go home. And I went home. And I cleaned. And I did laundry. And I emptied cat litter (well, I lied about that - but I'm going to do it soon.) I organized. And I paid social time to my daily visiting drunk neighbor (she's very sweet, actually), and I gave my cats love so they would stop meowing at me.

And now I'm sitting here, wondering. Where did I lose sight of the pause in tea?

Sometimes I think I want control of every aspect of my life. In fact, most of the time I think I want control, because I am comfortable when I am in control. That is why I constantly clean and work and help people and be involved in ministries and relationships, because I want to control them, or at least how they affect me.

But I sometimes realize that I just cannot handle all that responsibility. It's usually after a major failure on my part. To deliver it into God's hands is to experience the worst humiliation, the shame of your humanity - and then the utmost relief as you realize you do not need control. And then you feel his love and know that you are his child, and he is actually happy to be taking this burden from you.

Here's what it's like. After a day at work, I am tense, and I have a headache. I come home to a sweltering apartment that smells like cat feces, because one has relieved himself on the floor, because the other one was beating him up. I can't find anything to clean it up with because the floors are completely covered with dirty clothes, dishes, and used Kleenex. I am hungry and grumpy but cannot calm myself down enough to pick something to eat. I have phone calls to make, emails to respond to, and projects to work on. I have zits all over my face and my hair is sticking straight up. I have two coworkers who told my boss that I am incompetent. I have dropped the ball on multiple responsibilities. My rent is five days past due. Moreover, the guy I like told someone he thinks I'm ugly as heck.

And then my best friend comes to my door. I tell her not to come in, because it's really messy. She grabs my hand and pulls me outside and gives me a hug. "Listen," she tells me. "I know you're having a hard day today, and you just want to fix everything. But you can't. Just trust me. Come with me. Let me help you."

We drive to her house, where she has set up a hammock in the yard. "Get in," she tells me. I start to protest, mentioning all the things I have to do. But I get in, and sag down into the hammock. It swings me gently. As I begin to relax, I am aware of the patches of sun on my face coming through the leaves. I am aware of the quiet, majestic swish as the wind rustles the branches. Air seems to be more revitalizing here. I am comforted. I didn't know how distracted I was until my friend brought me back to the way life should be.\

I don't have an ending for this word picture, because I didn't want it to seem "religious" (why is that considered such a bad word?). But the truth is, this continual surrendering to God is both the most difficult and the most wonderful thing we can do for ourselves. It keeps us fit to do the things we should do. And the best part is this: We can trust him! This is not a surrendering into thin air. This is not throwing away problems or responsibilities or control - this is giving them away. But how do you know you can trust him?

If you have experiences in your own life that you can remember when God has proved himself faithful, you can look back on those. If you have friends who might encourage you in this regard, you can ask them to share their testimonies in order to boost your faith. But no matter what your doubts are - no matter what you need to surrender to God, be it your family, pet, house, health, work, or even life - you are going to have to take a lot of risk. Until you reach a point where you can do that, you won't be able to experience the peace that comes from having your life in someone else's hands. Yes, it's scary. No, it's not "safe". But you'll never find peace until you do it.

My only caution is this: Don't do it unless you're sure you're really ready to. You can't do this halfway if you're going to do it.

From then on, it's continual surrendering. I think I know why we humans cannot seem to learn the lesson once and then have it always - because if we didn't keep falling, we wouldn't rely on Jesus.

Tea is surrendering. Tea is admitting that you can't handle life by yourself. Tea is saying, "Okay."