On Puzzles and Noticing

Posted on March 15, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

I love puzzles. Fortunately for me, I also have a daughter who enjoys puzzles, maybe even more than I do! Over the years, we’ve loved sitting down to puzzles together, working on them for Sabbath rest or in stolen moments here and there.

The summer before she headed off to college, we started a rather complex puzzle. With 1500 pieces, it wasn’t an abnormally sized puzzle for us. We frequently tackle 1000-piece puzzles without a second thought, and a 500-piece puzzle isn’t even really a challenge at all. So, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about this 1500-piece puzzle in its size.

It was the image itself that caused us to wonder about our sanity as we dove in. This particular puzzle was constellations. A dark background covered in tiny words and dots and details. Several times I wondered if my eyes weren’t just a bit too old for this heavily detailed puzzle.

We started the puzzled over the summer. Then my daughter headed off to college. I tackled a couple of things here and there — parts that I knew wouldn’t be too challenging because I could see the patterns easily. But I didn’t make a lot of progress.

My daughter came home for Christmas, and we decided to spend some time puzzling. That first day back on the “job” I noticed something I had never seen before, even after months of having the puzzle out. I noticed blue lines and patterns connecting the stars in the middle of the puzzle. Images. Patterns. Designs with coherent flow.

I had expected the center to be almost impossible to figure out systematically because of the teeny tiny dots and numbers. But what I found was a series of patterns that would make the puzzle much more easy to solve. Connection points. Anchors.

These had been there all along, I just hadn’t noticed them.

Oddly enough, I’d just finished a book a few days before that talked about noticing. Sitting patiently with art or other aspects of beauty to observe and gain awareness that a glance — or even a long look — will never provide. The idea of sitting in front of a single painting for minutes, much less hours, seems so very hard to me. And yet, I’ve caught myself lingering at times before a snippet of beauty only to find that I could hardly tear myself away. So much to see and take in that a lifetime couldn’t possibly be enough!

I’ve long argued that we need to approach Scripture this way as well. Sitting with it, reading and rereading it, discovering what we can’t see quickly. This approach was pressed into my heart and mind by a college class. Our professor would hand us a passage and have us list all of our observations. When we felt we’d gleaned all we possibly could, he would tell us to go and do it again. We’d moan and groan, thinking there was nothing else to be seen. We’d get ornery and list blatantly obvious, seemingly ridiculous details, only to discover that those details would awaken us to a whole list of things we’d missed before.

In recent years, this concept of lingering and observing that once was as natural as breathing has become foreign to me. In some ways, I’ve been afraid to linger because lingering isn’t always happy. Sometimes it’s simply overwhelming, producing unexplained emotions that leave me with more questions than answers. Lingering can mean dealing with painful things. Things that I can’t fix. Things that only hurt.

Little observances have been awakening my heart. A lakeside sunrise so incredibly beautiful that I couldn’t bear to pull my eyes away. A pattern than stirred thoughts and made me want to create despite the fact that art is not in any way a gifting of mine. A puzzle that seemed so challenging because of all of its apparent sameness, only to reveal itself to be full of patterns and nuances that, once discovered, made it almost easy to complete.

Noticing stirs thoughtfulness. Thoughtfulness stirs emotions. Emotions stir connection. And connection breathes life back into parts of me that have been, at best, dormant and, at worst, dead.

Fortunately for me, I serve a Lord, Savior, and Master who not only awakens the dormant but can actually bring the dead back to life.

Sometimes with something as simple as a puzzle.

Day Two

Posted on March 4, 2024March 4, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

Day One was a good day. Well, for writing at least.

All of my timing worked out. Even with a slightly sluggish start to the morning, I got in my exercise, morning devotional reading, and school with my son and still had time to spare before I needed to clock into work.

So, I sat down to a blank screen and had just over 1000 words written before it was time to quit. For the first time in a while, the ideas and the words came together to flow into productivity.

On the one hand, that’s a great thing. Day One success can be so helpful to get up and do Day Two. Then Day Three. Making it a habit.

But, Day One success can also be a struggle.

The very next morning, I procrastinated for 30 minutes. I wrote some reviews because that was easy and safe. I sent a couple of check-in chats on Marco Polo. I cleared my inbox.

Why?

Because I was scared to sit down to another blank screen and not have Day Two go like Day One did. On Day One, I had ideas before I ever sat down. On Day Two, I was going to have to sit down first and see if the ideas came to me.

That’s just plain intimidating.

And for over half an hour, I let that fear and intimidation keep me from even trying. I let it eat away at the time I had available to write. I let it distract me.

But I finally made it. I started tapping away at the keyboard, and the very experience of the morning gave me something to write about. I didn’t have as much time to write because of all the time I wasted. I wouldn’t make it to 1000 words. I probably wouldn’t even make half that. But I showed up, and that very act showed me that I actually did have something to say.

Here’s the deal, though. On Day Three — or Day Twelve or Day One Hundred and Fifty-Seven — I might actually sit down to a blank screen and have…nothing. At some point, my fears will become reality.

But I’m also realizing something else. On those days I’ll still have something to do. I’ll have a folder of rough drafts ready to be edited. I’ll have a folder of completed drafts ready to be published. I’ll have something to work with. Why? Because I sat down on Day One and turned my thoughts into typed words. I sat down on Day Two and conquered my intimidation.

On Day Two, I confirmed the habit of doing it anyway. Of sitting down with the intention of working toward being a writer once again. This is a part of me that has been dormant for far too long. And because of that, I’ve been incomplete. I need this.

So, I’ll do it.

I’ll do it on the days when I have the ideas before I even sit down to the computer — and then enjoy seeing those ideas materialize into coherent content. I’ll do it on the days when I have the ideas but then can’t seem to get them out coherently. I’ll do it on the days when there are no ideas beforehand, but something comes to me because I make myself do it anyway.

I’ll do it on the days when there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. At all.

What have you allowed to slip? What have you not done because you’re not getting around to being yourself? What have you allowed intimidation to keep you from doing?

What can you do today to get started? To reinforce what you’ve started but are afraid to continue? To keep going even when you’ve hit a dry spell on something that’s been going so well? To grow and improve in something you’ve been doing diligently?

No matter the obstacles before you today…do it anyway.

Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life

Shine Right Now

Posted on February 26, 2024 by Ann B. Hibbard

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been slowly working my way back into a habit of personal writing. A blog post here, a few paragraphs of fiction there. Nothing big, just an attempt to try to rebuild the long-lost habit.

Everything I have written is safely stored in a Scrivener project and marked with a status. Most are marked as rough drafts, reminding me that I need to go back and edit them at some point. Meanwhile, I’ve also been trying to clean up the blog and even think about some fresh organization. After all, it’s been a few years. I need to revise my presentation before I just start publishing stuff again. I need to have something good and attractive and just right before I get back to publishing again. For now, just building the habit is enough. Right?

Right???

Maybe. And maybe not.

Early this morning, I followed a trainer named Shannon along a beach in Australia while listening to an audio devotional that Heather Thompson Day recorded back in December, all thanks to the marvels of technology built into my treadmill and my phone. Neither of these lovely ladies were actually with me in my living room today. But both of them were a part of my morning because at some point they decided to click “submit.” They chose to put their work out there on display for me to access whenever I needed it.

As I listened to the podcast, I was struck profoundly by a comment about shining enthusiastically through anything you do, whether the audience is huge or small. I was personally being impacted because two women had chosen to make their talents public. They had chosen to put themselves out there, having no clue how many people would watch or listen. They had no guarantee of reaching a record-breaking number of viewers. They simply wanted to put what they had out there for anyone who might be willing to take advantage of their material.

They didn’t keep their thoughts and actions hidden in a Scrivener file on their computer.

Yes, that is the exact thought that went through my mind as I walked and listened. And that first thought was immediately following up by the conviction that I’d been hiding, too. Hiding behind rough drafts and the need for organization. Hiding behind the idea that I never really had an “audience” anyway. Wasn’t all of this just about the writing for my own edification? If I am focused on rebuilding that habit, is it really important to actually publish what I write? I mean, on the one hand, I want to be productive and write for more than just my own mental processing. But, there’s no rush, is there? No one is waiting for me to publish a blog post. Who even really visits personal blogs anymore, anyway, other than random bots?

All of the excuses came right back to the original realization: I’ve been hiding. There are many reasons for it, even beyond the excuses. But I wasn’t meant to hide for the Kingdom of God. I was meant to shine for Him. I wasn’t meant to edify myself. I was meant to edify the body of Christ and draw others to become a part of that body.

It might be that no one reads. It might be that I don’t impact a single soul by publishing a random post on my blog. That’s a possibility anytime I publish a blog post. But if I keep hiding, it’s more than a possibility; it’s a guarantee.

So, this is me, coming out of hiding. This is me typing this post directly into WordPress instead of in Scrivener. This is me committing to just a quick edit before I click publish. This is me turning on a light bulb to shine right now, even if no one else sees it for weeks or months or years…or ever. My job is to take what God has given me and commit to putting it out there.

Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life

I Don’t Want To

Posted on August 17, 2020 by Ann B. Hibbard

One of my summer goals was to reinstate a habit of writing. Some weeks were good, others not so much. But, I’m seeing progress. I’m also seeing, though, that it’s not always about having time for a habit. Sometimes, it’s about pushing through a bad case of “I don’t want to.” We’ve probably all faced that, in one way or another, in this strange year we’re experiencing. Here are some thoughts that came from an “I don’t want to” day a couple of weeks ago…

Today I have a few minutes to write. Lunch is an easy prep since I’m just warming up soup that’s already in the fridge, celebrating an August day in the 80s (not at all a norm for an Arkansas summer). And I just completed another course to prepare for our official homeschool start in two weeks. Almost to that finish line! So, I have time to sit down and write a few hundred words.

The problem is, I don’t want to. It’s not the out-of-habit issue that leads to staring at a blank screen, although it has been a couple of weeks since I’ve written regularly. It’s just that, emotionally, I don’t want to hash through what’s in my head.

That’s the thing about healthy habits. (And yes, for me, writing is a healthy habit.) A healthy habit — and a healthy lifestyle — insists that we confront our thoughts, emotions, struggles, and successes head-on. We have to think about them. Deal with them. Not just every now and then, but day after day after day without fail.

Even the simplest healthy habit like brushing my teeth daily makes me aware of the health of my teeth. How are they doing? What do I need to do to keep them healthier? Improve their health? Maybe I don’t consciously run through these questions every time, but the evaluation is there.

But some of the healthy habits are more in-your-face than others. Like writing. With writing, I have to process my thoughts. I have no choice. And sometimes I just don’t want to.

A habit, by nature and definition, makes the decision for us. My habit every morning is to get up, put on exercise clothes, work through a weight routine, and then go walking. The decision is made. I don’t make the decision to do all of that every morning. The habit makes the decision for me. If I do not go through that routine, then I’m making the decision not to. And that takes more effort, because then I have to rethink the flow and routine of my morning. So, as much as I do not enjoy setting the alarm early enough to get up and exercise — nor do I like the exercise itself — it’s more of a hassle to have to decide what to do with my messed-up morning. So, I exercise.

As a result, I face the health realities connected to my need for exercise head-on. Day in and day out. My weight. My eating habits. My overall health. All tied to that habit.

The writing habit, in turn, decides for me that I will deal with the cacophony of thoughts in my head. And that’s a good thing. Because when I let them pile up, they wreak havoc. They cause stress and depression. They magnify uncertainty and strengthen confusion. It’s work enough to deal with them on a daily basis. But, when they pile up? It’s downright exhausting! So, I need a habit to decide that I’m going to write, whether I want to or not.

Of course, destructive habits are no different. We have good intentions, but if our habits are unhealthy, they make the decisions for us. And our “want to” struggles to stand against them. It’s not hopeless. We can break destructive habits and build healthy ones with will power. But, if we don’t apply that will power, our habits will win. They will make the decisions.

May we always be aware of our habits. Of our healthy ones and our destructive ones. Of the evaluations they force us to make. Of the power they hold over our lives. Because when it comes down to it, our habits — not our “want tos” — are what truly shape us. What shape do we want?

Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life

Questions Without Answers

Posted on August 5, 2019 by Ann B. Hibbard

“Question for you,” my husband or I will say to one another. Or it may even come from someone else. A child. A parent. A friend. A church member.

“Answer for you,” comes the inevitable response. At least, we hope there’s an answer.

There’s something incredibly satisfying about being confident in our ability to answer a question. It means we’re knowledgeable about something (always a confidence booster), able to make a decision (extremely edifying for those of us who struggle to make decisions), or able to be of help to someone (Who doesn’t enjoy that?).

Of course, when we are the ones with the questions, we also want the answers to be forthcoming. Typically when I ask a question of my husband or children or anyone else, I might not need an answer immediately. But I definitely want them to ponder, evaluate, consider, research, explore, or whatever and get back with me at some point. We ask questions because, ultimately, we want answers.

And this is where spiritual growth gets tricky. Because sometimes we ask questions that only God can answer. And many times it feels that He is a little vague or dodgy with the answer.

I can’t read Scripture without clearly seeing the number of times God’s clear answers were delayed or obscured in some way. And when He was clear and quick, it was often in discipline, not in response to the heart cries of a truly searching servant. From Job to Abraham to Joseph to the prophets to the disciples to Paul, there is incident after incident of God requiring His servants to wait. To trust. To learn slowly.

This truth is clear in my own life as well. I look at what I know now and see how much of it has come, not from beautiful moments of quick illumination, but from long and hard study. From waiting. From asking question after question after question, layering one on top of the other until I don’t really remember where I started—I just know that the search never seems to end.

Reading what I just wrote makes the process seem so very daunting. Completely overwhelming. And not at all reassuring. Can we really be motivated to ask if one request seems to pile into many? If the answers never seem clear and forthcoming?

Yes. Yes, we can. And here’s why. First, Jesus told us to ask. (See Matthew 7 or Luke 11. Or go back even further to see God’s instruction to Solomon in 1 Kings 3.) That’s reason enough.

But there’s more. If we really stop and look both through Scripture and our own lives, we see that there is so much more to God’s provision and work in us than just straightforward answers. He works truth. He works understanding. He works growth. He works His will. He works Himself into our lives. And through the process, though it may take so much longer than we care to endure, we do receive those answers. But when they come, they come with fullness of life and with meaning and with purpose instead of just as simple answers to questions. They answer much more than we could ever have imagined.

More often than not, my journal holds questions without answers. The beginning of yet another search, even as I am still in the middle of older searches. Even as I continue to journal through previous questions that have only received partial answers. Clues lead me to the next step, but the old questions seem unending. The new questions seem unanswerable.

But, I have learned to go ahead and ask them. To go ahead and write down the questions that I know will not be answered today. Or tomorrow. Probably even this year. Maybe even this decade. But they still must be asked. Because the journey to the answer means more than the answer itself. The journey points me to Christ. The ultimate Answer. And the more I ask, the more I get to know Him.

Seems like incredible motivation to me.

Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Life

Unharried

Posted on January 28, 2019January 26, 2019 by Ann B. Hibbard

It was a lovely Saturday morning. The chilly breeze blowing in through open windows offered a delicious contrast to the humid, oppressive heat that is typical of the last days of an Arkansas summer. The sound of rain against leaves and the roof provided one of my favorite auditory backdrops, and I wanted nothing more than to just sit there and soak up the beauty. Although my ultimate preference would have been to find a covered porch and a good book to enjoy on that delightful day, I found myself enjoying even the prospect of tackling a work day with the coolness and sounds of rain flooding the “office.”

Although Saturdays aren’t normal, routine work days in the Hibbard household, they are still full. Some are filled with outside obligations. Those that aren’t still produce full lists. School prep for the new week. Finishing up any remaining work hours from the previous week. Fitting in any yard or housework that needs to be done. Working in any ministry and writing tasks that didn’t fit naturally into the week before. It’s the catch-all day, and that can sometimes make Saturday even more intense that a typical work day! Unfortunately, that can leave me somewhat harried as I head into Sunday and launch a brand new week.

It’s funny how God embraces me on all sides with lessons He wants me to learn, and one of the lessons He started teaching me last year (and is still working into my heart and mind) is connected to that harried feeling. This lesson is a natural follow-through to what He’s been teaching me about Sabbath rest for years now. It’s the realization that there is no true rest one day a week if I live the rest of the week in a state of maxed-out rush. I’ve long known this reality, but I haven’t truly known what to do about it. We live in such a rush-rush world. Full investment. Full engagement. Full planners. Full lives. That’s our culture. How do we keep our commitments, maintain productivity at work, and truly engage this lost world if we slow down at all? Is that not laziness? Sloth? Unproductivity? The opposite of all that is good and exemplary?

I still don’t really have an answer to that question, although I learned much through my studies of James and 1 & 2 Peter last year. And, books I’ve already mentioned like An Unhurried Life and Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking have helped me consider practical aspects of the changes that need to be made in my life.

But, in all honesty, I recall even now how that cool, rainy morning enabled me to get a glimpse, for the first time, of what it looks and feels like to tackle a full day with an unhurried, unharried mentality. No less work. No fewer tasks. But a mind of calmness and peace.

The realization is rather convicting. I was incredibly relaxed and peaceful on that delightful fall morning because the weather and the physical conditions of the day met my preferences. It was easy that day to be thankful for my office with many windows (a room which now serves as my daughters’ bedroom). It was easy to let the cool air wrap around me and chill me and leave me feeling wonderfully energized for the tasks ahead. But what about when the heat returned? Or when the days turned cold and cloudy with no nourishment of sweet rain or even beautiful snow? When being unharried and unhurried would require more work? That’s where I am hit hard with the realization that I do not submit myself fully to the rest and peace of my Savior. In sinfulness, I attach rest to a specific set of circumstances. Hebrews 4 tells me Christ Himself is to be my rest. The guilt of my idolatry makes plain why I cannot seem to escape a harried life, even with all I’ve learned about Sabbath rest – I connect rest to environment, not Christ.

I wish I could say that I can flipped a switch and automatically took the revelation of that beautiful Saturday into each new week, immediately implementing an unhurried, unharried approach. But, that’s not the way growth works. I still have to actively learn how to live this out – yes, even months later, I’m still working on it! How to take the ease of a perfect day’s peace and rest and choose to engage in it when it’s not so easy. That day, though, was a lightbulb moment. A day when I recognized the conviction and training of the Holy Spirit. An Ebenezer I can look back on and remember as I move forward into a life of increasing rest and peace, as I am doing even now.

Oh, precious Lord, may I learn the lesson diligently, no matter how long it takes!

Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life

Happy New Year!

Posted on January 7, 2019 by Ann B. Hibbard

Okay, so maybe I’m about a week late on that new year greeting. But, there is a point, even to that.

I love fresh starts. And I love succeeding in my fresh starts. But, all too often I miss them. For instance, I had intentions for welcoming 2019. I had productivity plans and writing plans and decluttering plans. But, as often happens, so much ended up getting crammed into the days off school that I didn’t get around to the “extra” plans. It was all I could do to make sure I got enough work hours in (and I didn’t always succeed even at that) and tackled the necessities. I wanted to start the new year ahead of the game. Blog posts ready to publish. Projects ready to go. Stuff done. Instead, I accomplished what had to be done, leaving the whole hopeful list still waiting for me.

So now, here I am, a week into the new year, launching into a Monday after a night of very little sleep, carrying a few basic tasks over from last week and seeing none of my “get ahead” hopes accomplished.

With my personality, that’s not a very encouraging fresh start.

Over the past few years, though, I’ve been trying to change my mentality about fresh starts. Several years ago, my boss wrote an article entitled “Tomorrow is Always Fresh,” combating the lie that we have to wait until a traditional “fresh start” day to reorient ourselves after our plan or routine falls apart. Why do we have to wait until Monday? Or the first of the month? Or the beginning of a new year? Why not tomorrow?

This is my tomorrow.

So, I didn’t start the new year as I’d hoped. So, I don’t have a writing plan or a new schedule or a head start. So, I have to just dive in and work on it all as I’m processing through a normal week. If I let all of that stop me, I’ll never truly enjoy fresh starts. I’ll always be waiting for that next Monday. That next first of the month. That next first of the year. That day upon which I hang hopes that will not materialize. Something will always stand in the way. Something will keep me behind. Something will always need to be caught up.

This morning, I choose to start fresh right here, right now. Yes, it’s a Monday, but the fresh start is not because it’s Monday. The fresh start is because it’s today. Because I have an opportunity. So, I’m going to take it.

And guess what? Tomorrow will be fresh as well. So if things fall apart as today moves on, I’ll get to start again tomorrow.

So, Happy New Year! No matter what your past week has produced, may today be a fresh start for you as well.

Thoughts from Life, What I'm Learning

Sufficiency and Tightropes

Posted on July 11, 2018 by Ann B. Hibbard

I’m procrastinating today.

We slept in a bit this morning, which has me running a little later on the routine than normal. But, that’s not really what has me moving slowly. In reality, it’s the subconscious knowledge that, if I keep putting off writing, I once again won’t have time to get a blog post written, edited, and published before I absolutely have to get to work in order to get my hours in before church. That subconscious knowledge has actually become my safety net. And I’ve been spending more time in the safety net than on the tightrope where I belong.

You see, I have quiet a few blog posts stored in my files right now. Some are just thoughts tapped out quickly that need to be fleshed out. But others are fully written and just need to be edited. I have good intentions of starting my morning with some editing, photo searching, and publication prep so I can get one of those posts up. But each morning I find a whole list of other things that just have to be done. Then my time is spent, and I have to get to work. So, the posts never go up.

But it’s not really because of a lack of time or because of so many other things that are pressing. It’s really because staying in the safety net is more comfortable. It keeps me from falling. Because I know that I’m not going to stay on that tightrope. I will fall. How much easier to just stay down here where I know I’m going to end up anyway?

I’ve always been like that. I’ve never been a risk-taker or a daredevil. Thrill has never enticed me. In some ways, that’s a good thing. There is a place for people like me, because we like to keep the show running. We like to be in the background providing everything the thrill-seekers and dreamers and brainstormers and visionaries need. We make their ideas happen because we’re good at the practical and the organizational and – to be completely honest – the boring. That’s our place. That’s our strength.

But, too often it’s also our hiding place. And we have a litany of reasons to hide. One of the big ones for me is a feeling of insufficiency.

One of my daughters surprised me one day by verbalizing exactly how I feel so often, especially in the presence of my children. They are so talented. So amazing. They all have such incredible skills. I feel pretty mediocre standing next to them. Yet, one morning my daughter expressed how she felt useless and untalented, especially compared to her siblings. They, in turn, stared at her with mouths gaping and quickly began stating all of the ways she was so awesome and her talents were so amazing and useful, especially compared to how they viewed their own talents and strengths. As I worked to build up and encourage each of them, I also ached because I knew exactly how they all felt.

Insufficient.

They believe about themselves the same things I believe about myself. We may have our skills and talents, but what difference do they actually make in the real world? How can we possibly compare to the extraordinary offerings of so many other people? What impact can we, with our piddly contributions – actually make?

We recognize that we’ll never know if we don’t try, but we’ve also all – yes, even my three precious children at their tender ages – have tried and have fallen off the tightrope. Multiple times. Sometimes because of our own failing and other times because we’ve been shoved. Every time because of some insufficiency.

We long for the tightrope. We even do all of the preparations needed to walk the tightrope. And really, we don’t mind falling in the process of learning to walk the tightrope. But, we know that we won’t always fall on our own. Sometimes we will be knocked down, whether accidentally because of a lapse of attentiveness on someone else’s part or intentionally because of jealousy or rudeness or pride. But, it will happen. And in that fear, we stay in our safety net and wish that we were already experts on the tightrope. Already skilled to the point of being able to better resist the shoves. Unsure that we can handle both the learning and the struggling.

That’s why I’m procrastinating today. That’s why multiple posts remain in my folders, unedited and unpublished. And that’s why I’m forcing myself to publish this post today. Because it’s time to get out of the safety net and get back on the tightrope.

Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life

The Story of Talkative & Friend

Posted on January 29, 2018January 27, 2018 by Ann B. Hibbard

We all know those people who monopolize conversations. I know I’m sometimes guilty of it myself. When I get going on a certain topic or thought, I have to remind myself to stop and let someone else contribute to the “conversation.” There are some people, though, who never recognize that they are the only ones talking.

I can’t help but recall a relationship between two people who shared a common interest. Each time the two would get together, “Talkative” would jump into her latest discoveries and activities in the interest. Her Friend would try to interact, but would only get half a dozen words in before being interrupted yet again by Talkative. Before long, Friend would just give up and resign herself to listening.

Here’s the catch. Talkative was absolutely, beyond a doubt certain that she knew Friend well. She “knew” just what her companion liked and disliked and just how to please her.

The reality was very different. The supposed knowledge was not based on knowing what Friend liked but instead on the “conversations” between the two in which Talkative rambled on and on about her interests while Friend listened and nodded politely, knowing she would never have opportunity to comment. Talkative automatically concluded that her Friend was expressing, by her silence I suppose, that her interests were exactly the same. Friend determined that her thoughts and opinions would never be important to Talkative, so she ceased bothering to try to communicate them.

Talkative claimed that she loved and wanted to be an interactive part of Friend’s life. But, when they were together, it was always all about Talkative. There was never give and take. Never companionship. Just the interests of Talkative.

Friend loved Talkative and willingly spent time with her when the opportunity arose. But, over time, Friend became deflated and drained. She needed the opportunity to both give and receive. She needed the nourishment that came from mutual interaction. So, she began to branch out and interact with others who shared her interests and passions. She still spent time with Talkative, but only when it fell into the natural flow of life. She did not avoid Talkative, but she no longer instigated visits.

Talkative noticed, and it hurt her feelings. But, she never attempted to find out why Friend’s interaction with her had changed. She simply made a point to – with every visit – remind Friend of the fact that she wanted them to spend time together, unconsciously increasing the wedge with her guilt trips.

I struggle each time the Holy Spirit reminds me of this relationship. First, I struggle because I have been in relationships like this, and I know what Friend is battling. I know the hurt. But, mostly

I struggle because I know I’ve been Talkative before, even though I try not to be. I am far too often guilty of not listening to and investing in others, focusing instead on what’s important to me.

But, there’s another behavioral tendency that is even more disturbing for me: too often I treat God like Talkative treated Friend.

I talk and whine and journal and let Him know my side of the story. Then, I take my thoughts and opinions and imagine that God is endorsing them. I neglect to stop and listen, instead, to what He wants to say to me. His wisdom. His truth. His guidance. His commands.

And what He wants to say to me is much more important than pouring out my “all about me” thoughts and feelings.

Because here’s the bottom line. It’s all about God. If He monopolizes a conversation, it is not because He is being self-centered like Talkative. It is because He alone has the words of wisdom. He has the answers. And He doesn’t need to hear us talk in order to know us. He created us, and He knows His creation well.

Yet I turn into Talkative and completely ignore Him. And His will. And His people. And His work.

Who will we be? Talkative, or Spirit-minded Friend? It’s a choice. What choice do you make today?

Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life

Welcome, 2018

Posted on January 1, 2018 by Ann B. Hibbard

Looking back and looking ahead are expected activities for the turn of a year. What progress was made in the last year? What goals need to be set in the new?

According to my Goodreads log, I read 69 books last year. I originally set a goal of 42, then upped that to 52 late in the summer. I’m honestly shocked by the progress. But I’m even more shocked by the realization that I didn’t change much to hit that number. I was just intentional about it.

The part that surprises me most, though, is that 26 of those books were non-fiction. Over a third. That’s huge for me. I frequently only read a handful a year – half a dozen in a good year. But this year I made it through a good portion of my to-read stack and allowed quite a few others to trickle in along the way. And I enjoyed them and gleaned from them far more than I expected. Many of them have become new favorites, including Made for More and just about anything by Mark Buchanan. His book Hidden in Plain Sight is on my list for this year.

Also, late in the summer Doug and I finally were able to nail down some good routines for exercise and were able to really get a handle on how to impact our eating without “dieting.” My progress seemed excruciatingly slow at best, and often completely stalled. But, I’m now just a few pounds shy of the halfway mark to my goal and am feeling much more comfortable in my clothes – many of them a size or two down from where I was over the summer. Best of all, these new habits – the slow but steady progress – have made it much easier to enjoy holiday eating without packing the pounds back on. Yay!

But, the reality is that those two things, as well as other progress points this year, are simply external evidence of the fact that God has been working on me internally. A lot. Some of it has been exhilarating and energizing while other portions of it have been very hard. But, for the most part, it has been like the weight loss: slow and steady. I didn’t always see the progress day to day, but I can look back and see where He worked and shaped me a little at a time day in and day out. And I’m sensing that there’s more coming. Probably some serious pushing on my comfort zone that will make some of the growth more immediately noticeable. But, it’s coming.

So, what do I see in the coming year?

Who knows? I definitely don’t! I have no great illumination regarding what progress I’ll see in the coming year or exactly where God will be working on me. I have some inclinations, just like I did several years ago when Sabbath and rest started popping up everywhere I turned. (We learned a lot of hard lessons about that this year, and still have a long way to go!) But, everything I see will take a lot of time and a lot of smoothing away my hard edges.

I’ll make a new Goodreads reading goal. I’ll be more focused on the writing, because something tells me that it might finally be time to work that back in. I’ve been learning (or trying to learn!) guitar with my son. I’ll never get it like he does, but there’s something relaxing about picking out a song or a scale. I’ll be more intentional about planning outings with my family, enjoying some sewing on our rest days, and being committed to helping my oldest finish high school well.

But most of all, I hope that I’ll be open to those edges being smoothed. I hope I’ll be more sensitive to relationships and being a servant. And I hope I’ll be more fully surrendered to the Lord being in full control of every part of every day – not just the few minutes I spend in His Word every morning.

So here goes! I’m diving in and taking action on this first day of 2018. It will be fun to look back next year and see what amazing things God does – and just how much He’s able to do even through a hard-around-the-edges child like me.