Are you there Facebook, it's me Kat...

(A shout-out from God?)

Some folks think the big guy (God) is nowhere to be found.  That he doesn’t hear, that he doesn’t care, that a relationship with God is one-sided because we’re doing all the talking.  I would argue that those people aren’t listening.  God can be found in the most curious of places.  He can be found on an open river with a mountain back-drop.  He can be found in the voice of a dear friend.  He can be found in one sentence in an hour-long sermon. 

But he can also be found in obscure places, if you look.  I’ve found God in bumper stickers sometimes (more on that later).  He can be found in a magazine article, or a paragraph of a book you’re reading.  Yesterday, I found God on Facebook.  Yep.  Laugh if you want.  Especially all of you who think that Facebook is the end of society as we know it (that’s a topic for a whole different blog). 

Like 297 million other Americans, I logged onto Facebook yesterday and instead of updates about the usual stuff, my Facebook family had posted one saying after another. 

At first, I didn’t really notice or pay attention. But I got to about the 10^th adage, and I could no longer ignore it.  I was being pummeled by phrases, quotes and fortune cookie inserts.  So I scrolled back up, and actually wrote them down.

Was someone trying to tell me something?  You decide:

"All great changes are proceeded by chaos." Hmmm.  I have a daughter who is senior in high school.  There is a graduation looming on my horizon, but it is so much bigger than 4000 people with cow-bells crammed in the Metra.  (Excuse me.  Rimrock Auto Arena.) My youngest is transitioning from childhood into adulthood.  She’s picking a college.  There may be a big move in my family’s future.  And right now, all of us feel a bit frazzled.  Things seem a bit…chaotic.

"Don't be afraid to fail.  Be afraid not to try."  I’m considering moving after my daughter graduates to a place that, in my heart, has always been home.  But it’s scary.  I have a great job, with wonderful people, and a comfortable home right here.  Outside of a calling that is hard to explain to most, logically, it kind of makes sense to stay put.  But when I really think about it, “staying put” strikes me as more terrifying than not taking a chance.

"Let your past make you better...not bitter." This one made me chuckle.  Those who know me and the history of the last 3-4 years know why.  Let’s just say that where I am right now in life, and where I thought I was going to be, are two COMPLETELY different places.  This was, most assuredly, NOT in the brochure!  I have actively fought bitterness, and I think I’m winning.  But I have days where it gets the most of me, even if for just a few minutes…or hours.  I love this one because it basically says, “Life sucks sometimes.  Learn from it, and move on.  There’s no room for sissies here.”

"You'll accomplish more if you start now."  Where was this one when my alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. and I ignored it until 6:00 a.m.? 

"The perfect day...going to bed with a dream, waking up with a purpose."  I feel like I’m much more in survival mode than dream mode right now.  But waking up with a purpose is key to survival.  We all need a reason to get out of bed.  We all need others to count on us to be at a certain place at a certain time.  Purpose is why old people get cats.  When the young people in their lives are preoccupied with making a life, that cat is counting on that old person to get of bed and feed it. It’s proven that old people with pets live longer, maybe because the pets give them purpose...a reason to live.  

"Joy is contagious."  Indeed.  When you smile, people smile back.  And the world just can’t get enough joy these days.  I was at a business meeting yesterday and everyone was in a good mood and laughing.  You could feel it in the room. I didn’t want to leave at the end of it.  We’ve all become friends over the last year, and the happiness in the room was palpable.  Joy creates an energy that in turn creates a natural high.    

Back to that bumper sticker.  In that business meeting yesterday, there was a rep from a non-profit Veteran organization.  I’ve been talking about volunteering for Veterans for years. Was this man planted in my circle for a reason, I wondered?  I wondered that again when I saw a bumper sticker about Veterans on the way back to work.  And again, when I followed a big white truck with Veteran license plates.

Maybe I think too much.  Maybe life is just one big fat coincidence and we make of stuff what we want to because it’s convenient.  Or maybe, just maybe, someone’s trying to tell us something. 

And just to underscore that last thought, I checked into Facebook before bedtime, when all the sayings had subsided, to find this:

“In the happy moments, praise God.  In the difficult moments, seek God.  In the quiet moments, trust God.  In every moment, thank God.”

Bowling, my latest flirtation with public humiliation

The crew at work invited me to jump in on league bowling with them.  I don’t know a lot about bowling (as will become painfully obvious as you read on), but league sounded important.  I was touched, but explained to the group that the last time I bowled, my son (who is now almost 20) was 8 years old and we played with bumper guards.  All I remember about bowling was bad shoes and disco music.

My new league buddies assured me it didn’t matter, and that I was doing them a favor by contributing my gi-normous handicap.  Now this concept I was familiar with.  My outrageous handicap is why I get invited to play in golf tournaments too.  I knew it would be fun, rusty though my non-existent skills may be, and I was contributing in some way.

When I first arrived I felt REALLY out of place.  Primarily because everyone had tidy little suitcases they hauled behind them with their bowling equipment.  I had to use a house ball.  My mortification was just beginning.

I gathered my bowling shoes, and resisted the urge to ask if I could get a multi-colored wig and a red nose to go with them.  Then my friend invited me outside for some air before we started and I walked outside in my fabulous footwear.  He quickly, but politely told me that was against the rules.  Yikes!  I had a lot to learn.  As if my house ball wasn’t like a neon sign blinking “Rookie” above my head, now I had worn my shoes outside!  Someone was going to have to get some paper for me so I could start taking notes! 

We settled into our bench behind our lane with a beer (thank heavens) and I noticed the lane right next to us was occupied with friendly gals slightly advanced in years.  They all had cool blue shirts with collars and their names on them!  I suddenly very much wanted a shirt with my name on it.  If I had a shirt like that, maybe my shoes wouldn’t look quite so... odd.  (No offense to my new bowling friends.)

These ladies in the blue shirts were a force to be reckoned with.  They’d saunter up there, stand at the top of the bowling lane, and more or less drop the ball onto the lane from where they stood.  This was perhaps not the most athletic bowling maneuver, but it was tremendously effective.  The ball would crawl to its destination, and more often times than not, knock all the pins down.  I longed for the day that I could drop my ball from mid-air and make it do that.

I was focused on other aspects of ball handling.  For me, it was less about technique and more about keeping the ball in front of me.  That’s right.  I dropped the ball behind me as I swung back.  I gasped and turned to see all the guys I was playing with drop their jaws.  To their credit, they quickly recovered and assured me it happens all the time.  The ladies in the blue shirts did a good job concealing looks of utter contempt. 

This bowling thing was harder than it looked!  All I can say is that I did improve as the night wore on (and the beers flowed more freely) and I have left myself nowhere to go but up!