Taxi!

My weekday mornings are routine and mundane. The alarm goes off between 5:10-5:15 am (depending on whether or not the snooze button is employed). After I shower, get dressed, (sometimes) make myself presentable, grab coffee and some lunch, I run out the door-in an attempt that doesn't rouse Chad or Koda-no later than 6:00 am, give or take 5 minutes.

Few subscribers to this time zone stir at this hour which makes the 20 minute drive to work rather uneventful aside from the occasional dodging of misdirected furry friends. Lately, however, I have noticed something unusual among early roadway passengers: a taxi, in Charlotte, at 6 am. If I was in the center of a more prominent metropolis I wouldn't think twice about this sun kissed automobile. In suburban Charlotte, it's precisely timed repetitive appearance just feels strange.

I have formulated some reasons for its placement. Let me share:

1.  There is a nocturnal business man with a really long commute. The taxi escorts him to and from the airport. He lives in my neighborhood.

2. Someone participates in routine alcohol consumption and utilizes a designated taxi driver at the same time every early morning. This person is also nocturnal and lives in my neighborhood.

3. It's a business car owned by a socially conscious global citizen who also lives in my neighborhood.

4. It's not a taxi cab at all, but a space ship that is abducting my neighborhood residents one homo sapien at a time.

Are there other predictions out there?

On another note, my blog has been read by someone in Russia. Thank you my Russian friend.

Taking Up Arms

A few days ago I received news that one of my college roommates has cancer. The prognosis that she relayed, if immediately undergoing chemotherapy, is good. This news rocked my world. It totally changed my perspective on the trials in my life that now seem so trivial, so petty. I think the biggest thing that shook me was the knowledge that her life will never be the same, never the way she planned.

How often does our life plan get shifted? How do we respond?

Meg, my friend, is literally fighting for her life. The doctors tell her that her chances of winning the battle and coming out on the other side cancer-free are good.

Spiritually, we are all fighting for our life. Some rest in the deceptive self-assurance that they know all the moves the enemy is making and they will be okay. Some, unknowingly, trust in unreliable leaders to pull them through, successfully.

I trust in a God who has already won the war and, today, declares me victorious. I don't have to fight for my life, Jesus did that for me.

My prayer is that Meg comes to know that her fight has already been fought and that she can rest in victory. In the end, everything else really is...irrelevant. Even cancer.

twenty seven

Tomorrow I will turn 27 years old. Twenty-seven. 20 + 7. 30 - 3.

When I was in high school one of my best friends had two older cousins who lived in New York City. They are incredibly brilliant girls; strong-minded, independent, working professionals, fashionistas, beautiful, non-profit founders, and happy. The two sisters always smiled. The oldest was 27 and worked for an art magazine that featured up-and-coming New York artists who specialized in a variety of media.

I can remember envisioning myself being 27 and being like the cousins; writing for a major magazine, owning a rent-controlled studio apartment in Manhattan, independent, beautiful, and happy.

My life today is not how I imagined it to be when I was 16 and enamored by those before me. Part of me still desires to write for a major magazine because that is what I love to do. Part of me still desires a rent-controlled studio apartment in Manhattan because that life is full of adventure. In my own way, I am still independent. However, I am recognizing the blessing of a fabulous husband and the support he brings to my life. There is freedom I am granted by letting go and letting him. He makes me feel beautiful. And last, but so first, I am happy. I am redeemed, restored and loved.

Come on 27, I'm ready.