Falling Fabulously Apart

By: Payton M. Ishmael

Reorganizing my closets is always a daunting task. There’s no possible way to simply rearrange the contents. On the contrary, my solitary option is to remove everything and put it all back in a neat and orderly fashion. This includes shoes, handbags, clothing and anything else that has found its way inside the albeit ‘black hole’ that stores my attire. Only after the wardrobe is completely disassembled can I properly and efficiently put it back together.

Unfortunately, my lovely tulips operate in this same fashion. Their beauty graced my front flowerbed for a short month’s time. Their presence was breath-taking to say the least. Then, the petals slowly began to dwindle away. Now, only a memory is left of their elegance. They have withdrawn themselves completely so that they can prepare to make their dazzling debut once again next year.

I can think of countless examples of things that must be completely undone in order to be accurately redone. I love when Julia Roberts ties Richard Gere’s tie in Pretty Woman. As a result, I learned how. During the learning process, though, I couldn’t stop half way through to repeat a single step. Instead, I had to straighten the tie out to its original state and complete the process from the beginning again and again and again. I’m a picky perfectionist when it comes to clothing and presentation. Bows have become a sort of nemesis to me; Hair bows, bows on dresses, ribbon on jewelry, shoe strings, and the list goes on. On myself, my students, or complete strangers, bows seem always to need adjusting. I’ve therefore elected myself rescuer of sloppy bows. Again here, there’s no way to readjust. Unfortunately, and often uncomfortably, I have to completely untie to retie.

Having a thorough understanding of this concept, I’m flabbergasted that I ever worried and wondered why my life came completely undone. From an extraordinary fairy-tale where I couldn’t ask for more, to being at my wit’s end in panic and chaos, my primary question was “why?” and my focal plea was “help!” All the pieces I had so neatly planned since childhood were falling apart like holding a puzzle in the air and watching all the little pieces fall to the floor in slow motion. You see, it was a puzzle that I had patiently taken my time on and joyfully watched evolve into a beautiful creation. Like a kid whose sand castle has just been destroyed, I was in the midst of despair.

Most fortunately, luckily, and blessedly now, I can look at my puzzle subjectively, from the point of view of an onlooker. All of these pieces that fell and are falling to the floor are being put in very specific places for purposeful reasons. Although the pieces are still mine, the positioning is much different and much more beautiful than I ever imagined. The Master of the Wind is the now the architect of my life and as I take a step back and look at what He’s doing, I know that all my panic, worry, and sorrow were in vain. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” –Romans 8:28 I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, but I know that good has the potential to come from everything if we allow it. Sometimes, we have to get the whole closet cleaned completely out and wreak havoc on complacency, routine, and organization in order to get things right.

“Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.” –Marilyn Monroe

Just Around the Corner

By: Payton M. Ishmael

Pitch dark. Creaky doors. Deathly chills. Spooky sounds. Shrieking screams. I’ve been through the mazed hallways of countless haunted houses. I confess, I’m often frightened by the ghouls, ghosts, and goblins that threaten their wicked ways upon all passersby. I learned early on, though, that the scariest part is always the experience of being startled or surprised. You never know what is around the next corner…

My solution to this sneaky realization is always to remind myself that from the front door of this treacherous place, throughout the monster-infested abode, all the way through the back door that concludes my risk for danger, those crazy lunatics can’t hurt, take, or even touch me. I’m protected. Instead, I’m confident that regardless of what kind of ogre tries to throw me off path, eventually the sudden twists and turns will concede and I will at last grasp the safe haven of light through the back door. I’ve blindly conquered the unknown and defeated the terror of mystery. I suppose the same is true of life. While traveling down the path of purpose, there is no way to predict what waits ahead. Instead, we’re left no choice but to keep on keeping on facing all the fast balls, curve balls, or whatever else may come our way. You never know what is around the next corner…

I played tee-ball as a child, but that’s about as far as my baseball expertise extends. Sometimes I want to scream to the world, “I’m not a baseball player. Enough with the curve balls already.” As you know, however, the pitches will continue coming across the plate. And though we’d like to see pitches that we can successfully knock out of the park, there are times when we’re going to be terrified of what’s coming our way. Our best option, swing batter batter batter swing! Don’t sit idly by and watch the less desirable sneak across until you strike out.

There’s hope in knowing that all these crazy situations we face, can change in a split second much to our pleasant surprise. A new job opportunity. A clear bill of health. A financial blessing. Be patient in hope. Sometimes life’s sweetest surprises are disguised as the ugliest curve balls. Step up to the plate. It’s ball time!

Purposeful Pieces

By: Payton M. Ishmael My fourth grade classroom operates much like Wall Street. Each of my twenty-one sweet little angels has a job that they are responsible for completing each day. The first couple days, or perhaps weeks of the school year, we might slip up and forget a task or two in the process of getting acquainted with our daily routine. It doesn’t take long, though, until the hours of 7:30-3:30 function succinctly like New York City’s financial district; days that present new experiences, but individual agendas that rarely stray from day to day.

When everyone is present and participating, the days go smoothly. Since some jobs are pre-requisites for others, the students realize how important their responsibilities are. Without them actively fulfilling their duties, the entire operation of the work environment suffers. The same is true of life. We have not just been given a purpose, no, but were created specifically for a divine plan. I can’t pinpoint anyone’s calling, I continue to struggle in finding my own. I do know, however, that I am not adequate to fulfill your responsibilities, nor you mine. I cannot take the place of the preacher, musicians, or singers. I can barely balance my own checkbook, so I can’t take on the role of the church clerk. I’m not an electrician. I can’t run the sound. I don’t even know how to start a motorcycle. But if one of these people decided not to pursue their purpose, imagine the loss we would be forced to endure.

I know from experience that when 9 and 10-year-olds either elect not to fulfill their duties or simply forget, chaos abounds. Our to-do list doesn’t get finished, organization is compromised, and confusion reins. Individual accountability is required for the efficient functioning of any organization.

Take for example, life as we know it. We each have gifts and callings. If we are not pursuing these, we are depriving not only ourselves, but those around us. There shouldn’t be a conundrum of crediting the wrong person for a job well done, because we should be taking care of our own business. “For the sake, of the call, I am laying down my own. No turning back. We’re looking straight ahead. It’s all for the sake of the call.”

When we deny, avoid, or ignore the divine road map that has been constructed especially for us, we’re dealing a terrible injustice to the operation of life. Don’t call on someone to do a job that’s been given you. You are a crucial piece of this puzzle we call purpose.

Step up. Step out. Move forward. Your purpose is waiting…

Somewhere in the "In-Between"

By: Payton M. Ishmael

I’m not a fortune-teller or gypsy. Although the nomadic lifestyle of a gypsy would suit me well. Move around from place-to-place embracing a variety of cultures, people, and undoubtedly food. I’m an axis to the same-ole, same-ole sort of living. A great deal of my 26 years has been spent packing or unpacking. Although I’m not a huge fan of settling in, it’s the short spans than fall “in between” on which I thrive.

My first vacation without adult supervision was the summer of 2003. Although I was elated about traveling on my own agenda, it was the idea of encountering a whole new world that excited me most. I will never forget how my soul bubbled over with enthusiasm as I boarded the plane. I’ll be honest, I had a rough itinerary in which my friend and I were to follow; England, Germany, Switzerland, France. It was traveling the streets of Berlin, though, that I saw the sign; “BOOK YOUR TRIP TO ROME TODAY!” I don’t take orders very well, but I felt compelled to do exactly what the sign in the travel agency’s window instructed. The next day, I toured the Colosseum, saw an opera, and ate the most delicious pasta that Italy had to offer. The boys we met at the opera were quite pleasing to the eyes. The best part was that they didn’t speak a lick of English. If we wanted to communicate, we used broken Spanish learned in Mrs. Langford’s high school Spanish class. I told my parents about my side-trip only after I returned to America.

The very next summer, I was unescorted to Mexico with a childhood friend. Again here, we pushed the limits of parental instruction by getting off the resort. What’s the use in going to Mexico if you’re going to stay on a resort with people from your own country? We, therefore, went culture seeking. We embraced each moment and practiced not only high school Spanish, but also what we’d learned our first year of college.

Again, a couple years later, I was fortunate enough to study abroad. The trip consisted of England and France. By now, I hope you know that I didn’t stay in England and France. This time, I enjoyed the breath-taking castles, exquisite foliage, and rich history of Scotland. I, of course, embraced the tourist traps, but spent even more time, once again, culture-seeking. To my dismay, they speak English with a tragic accent. When in Rome, do as the Romans. I spoke English with a tragic Scottish accent. I wonder if anyone picked up on the sheer Texas beneath my façade.

I have packed and I unpacked, time and again, on these trips among several others and in addition to quite a few moves as well. It was what took place in between my happenings with suitcase that made my trips special. Just last week, I was beyond blessed to spend time in New York City with my grandparents. Planes, bus transports, and taxi rides really took it out of us, but the ‘in between’ provided the memories, the learning, and the laughter that will ever remain priceless.

The ‘in between’ becomes a prevalent stage in life. From the time we arrived on this curious planet, until the time they put our bodies to rest, is but a breath. Again here, it’s the in between that counts. Embrace opportunities. Laugh out loud. Think the unthinkable.

“If you don’t jump, you’ll never know if you can fly!” – Miranda Lambert

Queen of a Jaded Heart

By: Payton M. Ishmael

Playing cards are tricky. It seems a good hand in one game is a bad hand in another. Hold a card one way, and you have a ‘6’. Flip it over, it’s a ‘9’. The clubs and spades have always looked too much alike to me. I can’t tell the difference. Unfortunately, Vegas finds stark resemblance, especially when I’m sitting around a table. Hold ‘em. Fold ‘em. Deal ‘em. Hit ‘em. Good hands, bad hands… the difference falls in the eye of the beholder.

I wake up one morning blessed beyond measure with an incredible family, a good education, fabulous friends, and a gracious God. Life gave me lemons, and I particularly placed them in a darling silver serving bowl for my springtime center piece among my exquisite kitchen table, inside my cozy home, outlined by tulip-laden flower beds. I’m full of determination to change the world, touch the top, and spread my over flowing joy with all those I meet.

The next morning, I wake up as the same person with the same life, but looking at my hand from a different perspective. I’m a lonely young lady. The pillow beside me remains empty night after night. I watch as friends and family spill over with happiness as their little ones come into the world, while I remain childless with no hope in sight. I work 65 hours a week, paycheck to paycheck, and barely pay the bills with a master’s degree. My car is having problems. I’m gaining weight. I have varicose veins. My skin is getting age spots. Life gave me lemons, and I threw them away because yellow lemons don’t make pink lemonade.

And they tell us to play the cards were dealt…

A deck comes with 52 cards, I think. There’s no one set of rules. You have games like black jack’ where color nor suit matters, as long as you can calculate a sum of 21. Oddly enough, ladies are encouraged to find a jack for this one. Then there are games like poker, where every intricate detail of each and every card holds meaning. Even more complication is inflicted when we get outside the realm of traditional playing cards; Phase 10, Uno, and Skip-Bo. Whatever happened to the Go-Fish days?

I comprehend the fact that my cards must be played, but I’m becoming famous for playing the wrong card at the wrong time. I don’t fully comprehend the game, and therefore am often clueless as how to play. Some days I’m confident and step out on faith. Others, I’m terrified to make the wrong move. Even more so, my greatest fear is that my hand isn’t strong enough to play.

There’s an elephant on my chest. My blood pressure rises crimson up my neck and face, even to my ears. I can’t breathe. The anxiety causes my heart to be so loudly, strongly, and quickly that I can watch my skin protrude… not again. An anxious queen of hearts; some that feel, some numb, some broken, some hopeful for a King, a diamond, and anything red.

A handful of cards for a game I don’t want to play.

End in Sight

Payton M. Ishmael

It seems to me, when the completion of any project, goal, or task is in sight, I suddenly am fulfilled with a strong and pertinent second wind. My momentum and drive kicks in to full gear. My determination switches into 4-wheel drive. I learned the meaning of that term just last weekend. For those illiterate in the terms of automotives like I am, it means that all 4 wheels are rolling so the vehicle doesn’t have to rely on just two wheels to do all the work.

Case in point #1.

I’m currently training for a marathon which requires, obviously, that I run a lot. Each day, I set out on the back-roads of Van Zandt County and run aimlessly until 1.) my iPod flashes ‘low battery’ or 2.) my hip indicates that I’m no longer a teenager. It’s interesting to me, whether I run 5,10, 15, or even more miles, as soon as my driveway is in sight, I’m sprinting as fast as my squatty legs will go. Why? I suppose it’s because the end is in sight. Victory is won. I know I can make it.

Case in point #2.

Tomorrow, at long last, is my final day of grad school as far as my master’s degree is concerned. I can honestly say, that a few, short months ago, I was burned out, bored, and wondering if all the time consumed by my classes was worth it. The last couple weeks, however, the countdown has been steadily ticking and as a result, I’ve submitted all assignments days and sometimes weeks before they’re due. Why? Once again, the end is in sight. My degree will soon be conferred. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do.

An Exception to the Rule

Then, of course, there’s the exception. Unfortunately, not all our endeavors provide a gleaming porch light or a fancy piece of paper indicating the end is near. If this were the case, perhaps we’d all finish strong in the end. Instead, there are many instances where we’re taken by surprise, including our most important ambition of all. “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.” –Matthew 24:42 For this, we won’t have the opportunity to kick it in to full speed. In a race where you can’t see the checkered flag, it’s best to sprint it out and give it your best for the entire race. This is the finish line worth crossing.

Spiritual Diet

By: Payton M. Ishmael

I’ve seen people play the diet games time and again. I will refrain from sharing my opinion about fad diets, as that is completely beside the point. I do, however, want you to think very hard and select someone in your mind who has made some sort of drastic transformation in their physical appearance; whether it be gaining a significant amount from pregnancy or food, or perhaps they shed a great deal of pounds.

I’m always very impressed by people who set a goal to lose weight and then watch them work each and every day to achieve that dream. Losing weight is hard work. Unfortunately, it doesn’t come with instant gratification. You can workout for hours upon hours, eat very strictly, and even in a week’s time, it’s very unlikely that people will notice any change in your appearance. Instead, these people stick with it, knowing that slowly but surely, their bodies are changing and the benefits of healthy eating and exercise habits are in store.

The same is true of our spiritual lives. Allow me, once again, to be completely transparent with you. I can remember, very vividly, a time in my life when all that mattered to me was serving God. I can remember being willing to do whatever it took to please my Savior. Growing up, I always heard stories of the Pentecostal yesteryear and the miraculous moves of the Spirit. I wanted that more than anything. It was to the point that I inquired whether the long hair, no make-up, tragic attire was, in fact, necessary for me to experience God in the ways that I’d heard about. I was willing to do whatever it took.

Much to my shame, I gained a great deal of spiritual baggage over a long period of time that deteriorated my spiritual health. I picked up a couple of bad habits, a few pounds of jealousy, a little bit of bitterness there, some resentment there, and it didn’t stop. Unintentionally, I became the exact opposite of the girl crying out for more of God.

Multiple times, I embarked upon a spiritual diet fad; giving up this, refraining from that. I wanted to be back in the place I once was; solely seeking the Lord’s purpose for my life. I was pursuing Christ like a fad diet; expecting immediate results. Like Atkins and South Beach, those changes are only temporary. I knew I needed permanent change. It takes time. It’s a daily pursuit. With each day, we must continue working hard. We won’t see instant changes, but a gradual transformation over time as we continue seeking Him, speaking to Him, praising Him, serving Him. Just like lifestyle changes for physical health, we won’t be granted instant gratification, but over time, as we continue to strive towards the cross, we will become all that He intended.

“The more I seek You, the more I find You. The more I find You, The more I love You. I want to sit at Your fit, drink from the cup in Your hand; Lay back against You and breathe, feel Your heart beat. This love is so deep. It’s more than I can stand. I melt in Your peace. It’s overwhelming.” – Christ for the Nations Music