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.