Mosquito Nets.

Let me just set your mind to rest one time and for all right now about something I am sure you have been thinking:
Wild black raspberry jam does not just make itself.
No no. Not in the slightest way.
I realize that when you go to a grocery store and see entire shelves, aisles long, full of jams, jelly, preserves, conserves, and chutneys of all kinds that your mind may assume they just magically appeared there in your super market.
But no.
That is not the case.
How do I know this?
Because I am in the jam making process.

You will remember that last year I went absolutely bonkers about the wild berries that are in the woods around my house. Well it's time again, Wolfies. Oodles and oodles of them surround my residence, taunting me with their abundance and mocking my efforts in futility to capture them all. But I did a pretty decent job and I just cooked a bunch of them to make jam; feeling pretty good about this year's crop, let me tell you.

BUT. And there is always a "but" with these things. This was not a battle easily won. Before I could even think of cooking and sanitizing jars and pectin and all the various what-have-yous, there is this little bit about PICKING the berries. For get the thorns, they were the least of my worries. Forget the heat, it hasn't gotten hot here yet. This year?
Mosquitos.
That's right.
The vampires of the insect world are out in full force. And they are vicious.

So the story goes that one morning I got up to pick berries around 6:00 am, and I was dressed in what I thought was fool-proof berry picking attire. Pants, knee high leather boots, a t-shirt covered by a hooded sweatshirt. The hood tied tightly so that the only part of my body really showing was the middle oval of my face.
This was going to be great.

And it was great. I got out there in no time and was picking picking picking in the immense thickets when out of nowhere I feel this little biting pain on my face.

Moquito.
SWAT!
I made quick work of him!

I did not, however, make fast enough work of his friends.

Continuing on in my berry quest, they continued in their quest for my blood. Not to be deterred by silly little bugs though, I pushed on, figuring I would take care of the carnage on my face when I got back.
And "Carnage" is almost an appropriate word.
Upon arriving home, ONE HOUR LATER, I look in the mirror to see.....what?
Any guesses?

FIFTEEN BUG BITES ON MY FACE.

MY FACE.

Just a sampling for you.

{Ha. It reminds me of a year ago when I was on a bike ride and was falling...into a barbwire fence.....and out of my mouth like nothing I yell, "NOT THE MONEY MAKER!!!"  How ridiculous am I?!}

So there they were---on my face----("the money maker"). And I had to leave for work in an hour! Being the resourceful woman I am, I did this treatment of vinegar and baking soda (NOT at the same time) and voila, they were gone in an hour. But I was still offended that they had even come close in the first place.

Not to be deterred by the little varmint blood-suckers, I did what any self-respecting berry-picking woman would do.

You get angry and make a hat. A mosquito net of the most sophisticated kind.

I had them utterly confounded, let me tell you.
And I got berries galore.

And then I was a happy berry picker.

What a joyous occasion. To have buckets full of the fruits of my labor.

All of this is to tell you---wild black raspberry jam doesn't just happen.

And as I was out there, fighting literally thousands of bugs, going to great lengths to keep myself untainted by their claws, all I could think was, "Why don't I fight with such fervor for my relationship with the Lord?" For surely, no matter how great home-canned jam is, it's nothing compared to Him. And knowing him.

Do you ever wonder where your fight has gone? Where all of your intentionality to remain close to Christ has flown away to?
If I am honest, I do sometimes. It's in those seasons of busyness (like mine right now), or those times of being listless or apathetic.
And when I let those things, which are silly (like mosquitoes), get in the way of he and I, also like the effect of the mosquitoes, the life-blood gets drained right out of me. Causing me to become even more apathetic, listless, disinterested, and then sometimes making it all completely slip my mind.

Why don't I make a mosquito net for my spiritual life?
Why don't I understand the life-broad truth that nothing worthwhile JUST HAPPENS. It takes a conscious, concerted effort, or you get nothing.

To make jam, I have to be intentional.
To stay close to Christ, I have to be intentional.

The precept is the same.

It's a thought, babies. What are you not being intentional about when it comes to Christ?
And what kind of "mosquito net" can you create to change it?

Love you, Wolfies.
I wish I knew every single one of you in real life. 

Reluctance.

I would say, "I have a confession," but I have done that a time or two and it also implies that I would be telling you something you didn't know.
So I will say, "I have an admittance." Because it accepts that I am telling you something you are all too well aware of.

I have been very quiet on this here blog lately.
Or in layman's terms: I haven't written very much this year.

While some people say, "Excuses won't do you any good," I AM going to give you an excuse.
Two of them, actually.
; )

Number One: I work a lot. I love what I do, but it makes my time not be my own. IF you know what I mean (if you have a job I am sure you know what I mean).

Number Two: This guy.

Look! There I am in the reflection of his glasses!

I know. How great is that.
So great.
But see, here is the caveat that has changed things for YOU. He and I don't live by each other; we live something like 3 hours away from each other. So, rather than spending time writing thoughts and nothings to YOU, I am on the phone each night talking to HIM. And I am traveling each weekend to see HIM.
Which, admittedly, is the way it's supposed to be.
And I couldn't be happier about it.
Because he is great. And he loves Jesus so much and he makes me love Jesus more. And he is brilliant and talented and funny and interesting and wise and calm and all kinds of other wonderful things that I will tell you about sometime.


But---I do miss you, my dear Wolfies. So I am going to try to be better.

*Sigh.
It feels so good to have told you that. And I guess I figured that once you knew what was going on with me you would forgive me for my absence. Because you are great like that.

*Sigh.

Needless to say, I have been gone a lot (every weekend--and most weekdays,too). And it reminds me of all that time in my life before I decided to be done rushing. I remember once when I was living with Al and Ella she asked me, "Do you ever not want to go?" and I had to pause and think about it for a bit.
"If I had somewhere I wanted to be and it was keeping me away from there," I said, "then I would be more reluctant to leave. But since I don't, it's fine for now."

For whatever reason that has stuck with me through the years and I keep going back to this concept of being "reluctant" to leave. Back then, when I was rushing, I was not reluctant.
Now? A little more. Even though I love what I do, every morning when I leave for work, part of me wishes I could just stay home.
But on the other hand a part of me doesn't want to stay home. I want to be out doing things and being productive and interacting.
It's a battle in me. I have been known to say, "When I am not adventuring, I am home," and it is basically true. A piece of my heart is always home, wherever home happens to be at that time.
So in this season of my life where I virtually get one suitcase unpacked only to start packing another, I was thinking about this reluctance when I came across a passage of scripture where Jesus is told that all the wine is gone (John 2) and he says to his mother, "Dear woman, why do you involve me? My time has not yet come."

I always think this is so interesting because, while he shows a bit of reluctance or hesitation when faced with this need, he goes ahead and does it anyway.

Why?

This miracle is touted as his first. Meaning, he hadn't done anything startling yet. Nothing to catapult him into the limelight. Make him famous. Bring on the crowds. Bring on the ridicule and the Pharisees and the Sadducees and the skeptics and the people who cut holes in the roof to get to you and the long journeys with the dusty feet and the sweaty brows and the no place to lay your head.

Was the reluctance----or maybe I shouldn't even use that word. Maybe I should say the "pause" or the "calculation"---was the him acknowledging that there was and was not a "right time" a showing of his humanity?
Like him being a realist and knowing that having a rock as a pillow is not plush, and feeding 5,000 probably makes you miss your lunch time too, and crowds following you constantly is going to make you need some alone time (i.e. all the times he went by himself to pray), and slipping away through mobs that want to kill you might be a tad stressful, and having your skin ripped to shreds is really painful and then knowing that death by crucifixion is about the worst thing in the world.

Is that why it wasn't his time? Why he was reluctant to start his ministry? Reluctant to get the show on the road?
Was this the humanity part of his God-hood? He knew what was coming; was he tired just thinking about it?

YET.

Yet he did it anyway.

He turned that water into wine.

He caused the commotion.

He got the ball rolling

He let the God-hood part overrule the human-hood part.

Because there was a wedding going on, and there was a family's reputation on the line, and there was an instance where someone might not be provided for.

And God doesn't let people go un-provided for.
So he did only what he could do. He defied natural laws (well, he worked around them. Because he created them, so he can do whatever he wants with them), he made something that wasn't into something that was, he put to shame all the impending pain and exhaustion and betrayal and horrific death....and reluctance to start it all.....and provided in ways nobody else could.
Or can.
Or will.
Or does.

Because that's who this God I serve is. That's the kind of love we are dealing with here, babies. He put aside his needs to meet yours. Mine.

And so I am challenged. What good thing am I reluctant to do because it will require sacrifice on my end? And how can I actually feel that way if I consider what he may have been reluctant to do---but did anyway----for me?

~~~~~
Did I mention that special guy and I had to go to Los Angeles?
Well. We did. For a wedding.
And for the Getty Museum. And the ocean.
: )

In our wedding finery.

The Getty Villa. Sans water in the pool :(

Because when we were hiking we were in a cloud, too.