The Cardinal

It has been a long time since I have done something for the sole purpose of enjoyment. I am such a serious person. I search for meaning in everything. Living this way steals joy without me even realizing it is gone. An email, a Bible Study, a sermon, a bird – a movie, a dream, and my counselor asking the right questions wrapped it all up for me.

Joy – this, for me, is pure joy – writing with no other purpose than the sweet aroma that words pouring out from my mind through my fingertips brings to my soul. I almost allowed an email to steal this joy from me.

After nearly six weeks, I received the much-coveted email from the agent I met and had a one-on-one pitch session with at a writing conference earlier this summer. She seemed so eager about my story and filled with ideas for publication. I allowed myself to believe my time had finally come. I have a dream – the extent to which only me, my counselor, and God know. This was to be the first step. As long as I didn’t receive the email, there was hope. Now, without any explanation or words of encouragement or criticism, I received this denial. I have a file filled with “thanks but no thanks” letters from agents and publishers from over the years, but this one was the only one that hurt because this time, I expected a hearty yes. This one hurt – deeply – painfully. You see, there’s very little I am certain about in my life. My gift for storytelling is the one gift I know, without a doubt, God lavished upon me.

For a fleeting moment, I contemplated giving it up, and never writing another word again. Then, God’s voice whispered in my ear. “Have your thoughts about me changed from two minutes ago?” I knew what He was asking. “Do I trust Him any less because of this kick to the gut?” No.

Yes, I still trust Him, but the hurt is still deep. The next day, I called to inquire about a job I interviewed for a week prior. They passed me over for someone with more experience. This hurt, too, but not nearly as bad, and for much different reasons. I need income. My savings is nearly depleted. I’m getting desperate. However, if I am honest with myself, I didn’t really want that job. As a matter of fact, if I am honest with myself, I really don’t want to be a social worker. And, I am not surprised one bit that I was passed over for that job – even though I fully expected to get it.

As I reflected on my answers to the interview, I realized my most passionate answers came from a place other than the skills and needs needed for that particular job. Had I been applying for a ministry or chaplaincy job, I think I would have nailed it.

That night, struggling with the ups and downs of my emotions, I received an email about a free online Bible Study called Defiant Joy. I signed up. Wink! Wink! – God

Last night, I watched a recording of Nashville First Church of the Nazarene’s 120^th Anniversary Homecoming service from this past Sunday. The man who was Associate Pastor when I was there came “home” to preach. His sermon knocked the wind out of me – in a good way. I need to keep my focus on Jesus. All these problems of mine arise when I lose focus.

Later the same night, I watched the Mandesa YouTube video for week one of the Defiant Joy Bible Study. I multitasked because she was terribly squirrely during the entire thing. In her defense, she admitted from the get-go that this was her first live chat, and that she struggles with squirrel moments.

However, when she got to the “funwork” part, I paused. One of the suggestions is to “play” this week. This gave me food for thought. When was the last time I did something without an agenda? Even ministry has an agenda. Granted, the agenda in ministry is vitally important (leading people to Christ), I could not remember the last time I had fun doing it. It’s not that I don’t love what I do, that I get no joy out of it. I do – very much. It fulfills me immensely. Still, I could not remember the last time I laughed until I could not breathe – played just because.

I thought about the day I played hooky and went to the river at Landa Park. When I came out of that cold water, I laughed for no particular reason. It felt great.  But, the last time I really laughed – nearly wet my pants, can’t breathe, snort, and laugh even harder because I don’t know why I’m laughing – the last time I laughed like that was with my friend, Mike.

The movie – Christopher Robin. Great movie, but it made me sad – nostalgic. Mike was my Eeyore and I was his Poor Bear. The movie brought back so many wonderful, and painful memories. He was the best friend I ever had. Nothing romantic. Nothing sexual. Simple, pure, deep friendship. He chose romantic love over our friendship. I chose to leave him completely rather than face the pain of losing him slowly.

I miss him.

I had a dream about Belmont. I often have dreams about Belmont. I go back to Nashville, back to Belmont security, and realize I belonged in Texas. This dream was even more vivid. I was like a rock star there. People who never knew me knew about me. My coming back was a big deal. The new chief was giving me a tour of the new campus and was going to train me himself. This caused quite a buzz in the department, people whispering about a possible romance budding.  

At first, I was overwhelmingly impressed with the changes on campus, and in the department. Then, he took me to Freeman Hall, with the mansion behind it. On either side was a very new, very modern, very hip café. At the top of the grand antique staircase, music row and all of downtown Nashville could be seen out of a huge picture window.

As soon as I looked out, I began to weep. I knew I didn’t belong here. I belonged back in Texas. The chief put his arm around me to console me. He asked what was wrong, and I told him. He asked, “Don’t you think you could learn to love Nashville again, for me?”

“No,” I cried. “You are part of the new, the future of Belmont. I am part of the past. I don’t belong here anymore.” I knew, even as I said these words, that by going back to Texas, I would be letting go of so much, including a chance to fall in love again, and that I would be going home to uncertainty.

During the NFCN sermon, Pastor Dale said you can’t go back.

I shared this dream with my counselor. One question she asked stumped me. She asked where the tears in my dream came from – why was I so sad?

As we talked it over, I shared the rest of the story, beginning with the sermon illustration – you can’t go back.

Mike – the last time I truly laughed – my best friend. I miss him. I miss what we had.

Play – the last time I remember playing is with Mike. What does play look like for me?

Writing – why did I stop blogging? My counselor has a great way of seeing past my words, catching my heart, my need to write, to express, regardless on whether or not anyone else will ever read it.

The question – why do I need to be more/do more – other than what/who I am?

Finally, the cardinal.

I have seen red birds around the house a lot the past few years. I once heard that these birds mate for life. I also heard somewhere to look for little blessings, things God sends for my eyes only. I saw these red birds as my little blessings. I loved watching the pairs fly off and frolic together. A while back, I saw it as a promise from God that one day, that special someone and I would work out.

Then, as those thoughts and feelings began to fade, I saw it more as God, saying “Hey, Renee. I love you!”

This morning, during my prayer time, I journaled about my special God moments with the birds, how they were like my pennies.

Shortly before leaving for my counseling appointment, Bailey wanted to go outside. I sat on the chair swing in the tree at the end of the driveway. I looked at the tree on the other end of the driveway, and there he sat, that beautiful, bright red cardinal. I felt joy.

“Hey, Renee. I love you!” Just for me. He fluttered around in the tree. I watched. Sometimes, the only way I knew he was there was by the shaking of the leaves. Other times, he came back to that spot and seemed to be looking directly at me. “Keep your eyes focused on me. Sometimes, I am easy to see, sitting plain as day in front of you. Other times, you may have to strain to see Me, but I’m still here, right in front of you. I’m always here. Keep your eyes trained on Me.”

Words are my gift. Words are my prayer. Words are the window into my soul. They are therapy, adventure, love, and devotion. Words are God wooing me. Words are joy. Words are my play.