Blinking Into The Light

Today my daughter said she was really concerned about the way I was acting. Which touched a tough spot as years ago I believed my panic attacks would escalate into my going off the deep end. Certifiable. But I told her I was feeling ALIVE now. It's like I'd just come out of a long sleep and I am slowly shaking the bad dreams from my limbs; blinking and a bit disoriented, edging into the Light. His voice comes at these moments with the gentle whisper, "You're not going crazy, you're becoming REAL."

My friend E, who struggles with childlikeness too, was in a "picture" I had in the middle of the night last night. I was a child and she was an adult, standing in place and pouting. Grumpy. I asked her to play. I grabbed her hands and we whirled around and around and around and as we did she started to lose her adultness. She was losing her stature and transforming into a child! I hope this comes true. I want this for her so badly I cried. .. Not all of my friends have this child issue, though they certainly struggle in other areas. C can barely contain her composure in most settings. She is OLD, over 42, and she GIGGLES!! N never left game mode. She's always wanting to play a board game or get us out on the lawn for croquet without borders. S seems to have a firm grip in childhood, she spends lots of time with her granddaughter-- just playing! I learn something from all of them( and from E--grace)!!

So I am battling the questions in my head. Why did it take me so LONG??? And then, will I lose this feeling? Asking, begging God not to take it away. I am afraid He will let me play for a while and then bring out the Zinger. The BIG SERIOUS LIFE TASK I cannot perform. Ouch. Perform. I am eating up the book I am reading, Dangerous Wonder by Mike Yaconelli. Seems like what I've experienced during a given day, I read in the book that night!!

On Tuesday, after I got down off my bed, feeling exhilarated and more than a little nauseous, I remembered the book I used to read my kids night after night. It was about 10 little monkeys who jumped on a bed and fell off one by one, only to be told by the doctor that they got what was coming to them because they were naughty and jumped on the bed. Well, screw the doctor.

The Long Fart to Rome

Friday I take my daughter and fly to Rome. We'll meet my husband there. For a (past?) worrywart I don't have much problem with flying. A lot of people do, they don't understand how we stay up in the air. I don't either but I imagine it's like the plane has this huge fart which propels it city to city. The problems come when the plane runs out of fart power and then falls, or if bad weather hits the plane and knocks the farts out of it, THEN it falls. So I'm praying for proper fart juice to get us across the Atlantic and safely into the early Christian city-- Rome! The I'll follow Jesus all across the city, generally searching for Holy Mischief.

No, I am honestly a little apprehensive about the day long layover in Montreal. I don't like feeling forced to hang out somewhere for long periods of time. In the past I have felt trapped and sometimes this has spurred an all out panic episode where I feel so bad I want to pull a Bob (from "What About Bob") where he is in such panic he goes up to a stranger and pleads, "Just punch me in the face." My friend E doesn't understand and tried to challenge me on what escalates an attack and I agreed it doesn't make sense. Most phobias don't. I think I am basically afraid of losing control and being hauled, out of control, to a place where I am even more out of control. But God is one step beyond that isn't He? And I am less dreading Friday and am now more curious about what He'll do. Huh.

Who Am I? Random Thoughts

Who is Suzanne Taber? I am learning myself. Why blog? I blog because it's easier to find the desk top in the hall than my journal. And the day I can't find the desktop is the day I really need to stop blogging.
I blog cuz my struggles may be yours and I am too tired to hide them. I am turning 40 this year and that's a long time to be someone you're not.
I am blonde, overweight. Nix that. I am under some weights, so I let's say I'm underweight. Anyway, God can hold me. And if one day He says, "Suzanne, you need to get down my legs have fallen asleep." THEN I may seriously consider doing something.

Ever notice how subtle the "b" is in "subtle"?

The Bible, A Quick Overview

I was thinking about the Bible and all the mistakes the people who really loved God made in there. And I wonder about His purpose for including all those mistakes in the Bible. Last week I would have said, "so we can learn from their mistakes." But honestly, how many people have been stopped from an act of adultery because they suddenly think, "You know, this didn't go well for King David, it probably isn't a good idea?" I think the general gist, especially in light of my own recent conversations with the Lord is, "My love for you is one step beyond your sins, your mistakes, your failures." And some of the sinners/heroes in the Bible believed that, got up and kept going.
But there are others like Jonah. At the end of his book we find him having a pity party beneath a shriveled up bush and he is telling God he is so mad at God he could die. The story ends there which is really sad because I think Jonah's life ended there.
Maybe if our school history books were more honest about the weaknesses and struggles of our land's historical men and women we would have more kids daring to make mistakes as they grow and becoming heroes. Who knows?

Toddling Forward or Am I Benjamina Button?

Anxiety-ridden, frequent panic and paralyzing fear. These would be words I would have used just last week to describe my daily life. But Friday I went to a spa with my girlfriends just a get away designed for one of us who was having a crisis. An evening of wine, chocolate, and frank talk. Turns out all of us are in crisis. E, the grand weekend organizer and buyer of all the latest books on anything Jesus related, slips me a book on living life with wide-eyed wonder, just like a child. E and I are sharing a room, I have the book pulled close to my face in the dim lamp light, trying to concentrate on the lines and at the same time worrying about my intestinal rumblings. If I fall asleep first will I disgrace myself with nocturnal farting? E is well put together,pretty chic and I always felt a tad LESS in her presence. Finally I give up, put the book down and am just getting comfy with my head under the pillow when I hear Him. "Would you like to be a more mature Christian or would you like to regress? To become more child-like?"
I KNOW this is a trick question, so I begin to think about what Christian maturity means to me. I decide it means more responsibility, more somberness, more wisdom. This is what I have been taught by Church. But I also heard Him stress the word "mature", heard His amused play and turn my focus on childlike. Simple, trusting, innocent. I am none of these. A complicated list of Rules governs my life. Attempts at conquering my fears fails. Daily. I am not innocent. Some people lean forward into life, glass half-full. I lean back so far I do the limbo through life, ass scraping the ground. What's wrong with me? Don't I believe His word enough? Just claim it. I berate myself. Weak. Failure. Blah, blah blah. Exhausting.
My answer? Ok Daddy. My way hasn't worked well for 35 years, I'm a bit of a slow learner. Or stubborn. Whichever puts me in a nicer light. So I'll pick-- childlike! I don't know what it looks like anymore. Or how to do it. I can't remember. He is silent. Pleased. I can feel it.
E didn't tell me if I farted or not.
Sunday
Most of my friends have left Organized Church. Some from hurts, some because they hear His voice leading them out. We meet here and there, brutally honest at times, challenging, encouraging, sometimes crying together, sometimes laughing. We may venture into the Organized for a special speaker. Or cuz. This time it was to hear a travelling Canadian, fresh from Bill Johnson's school in California. The cool thing about visiting prophets is they know nothing about you. So they can't make up stuff on the spot. It's either right or wrong. They have balls. Or boobs. No, now what part of a woman's body is considered strong? Huh,that one seems unfair.
So I start feeling Christ's presence, I am shaking, I go for prayer at the end and the visiting guy with balls speaks a prayer over me. About lies of the mind, about anxieties and worries. About Him not being disappointed or impatient with me. I am still shaking. The pastor (with boobs) is behind me praying too. I know her just a little. After he leaves, she is praying for me to "emerge from my box, to venture into Wide Open Spaces because He is inviting me there! To speak my ideas, to explore..."I am being invited again.
"What happens when I fail? When I fall?" I ask in bed that night. "My passion, my love for you is always one step beyond your failures." Huh.
A New Week
A miracle! I have been given child's eyes. It is really happening, the invitations have been ongoing. I brush my face against a rose, wet from rain, I push my nose far in to smell it, then let the drops dry slowly on my face. I go barefoot in the wet clover, my toes releasing the scent as I walk. I bounce on my bed and marvel that at 40 I can't do it like when I was 6. I avoid the cracks on the sidewalk. I sit with a young bum on the street, I'm relaxed, curious. Nothing is forced. I want to know him. I feel Jesus' love in me for him. I look at his leather pack, it has several bullets hanging in a bouquet together. Instead of feeling alarm, I admire them. He sheepishly tells me they are empty. Best not go there. I leave him with a meal, but my treasure is that I am leaving with part of his story. I am feeling alive again. In the market parking lot I pray for a God encounter. At the checkout I have one! With a retailer who is opening her shop for local intercessors to meet twice a month. She had been having doubts about Him, she has waited so long, we cry happy tears together before we part. Both encouraged.
I am having my beliefs picked apart too. I pass a drum circle. Bunch of granolas gather weekly and chant and bang on drums. A thought occurs, perhaps the noise I'm hearing God's heartbeat for our city? A skippy-hippy leaves the circle and hands me a shell shaker thingy. I join in! I sway and shake. The Lord whispers a prophecy to me for a woman in the circle. The left side of the woman's face sags as she beats her drum. It's like no prophecy I'VE ever heard. It doesn't Name Drop at all. No "Thus says Jesus Christ the Lord our God". It is for someone who has most likely been scared off by Christians. "Keep searching, you'll find revelation in unexpected places." I say in her ear. Her thanks is genuine.
I am walking across the park with my dog, there are men digging. When I see they are making holes in my park as they search for loot with their metal detector, I am angered. I walk towards them, a reprimand on my lips. The anger fades when I see the holes they make are small, that they are carefully patting grass back into place before they move on. Later I am thinking about this and of my rules for a Life Of Order and I'm wishing I had moved a step beyond my anger, to ask if they would let me try.
For the first time in memory, I wake in the middle of the night excited to see what the next day will bring. My last memory of this is Christmas Eve. I'm about 8 and I thought I had seen Santa's sleigh streaking across the sky earlier. The day can't come soon enough. I am wondering about my sanity now, am I manic? Just crazy? Couldn't handle the stress any longer? Just checked out? But I hear His whisper, He is one step beyond me.