A Life Well Lived, part 1

Lately, I've been reading The Daily Connoisseur, especially the posts entitled "Comme les Francais." My sister-in-law turned me onto this lovely blog because the blogger, Jennifer, writes at length about the ten item wardrobe. (That alone makes it a worthwhile read because it is a revolutionary idea for Americans, I think!)

Anyway, she writes a lot about how the French live well. Because I am a fool for anything European, I was immediately drawn in. And it got me thinking: What does it mean to live well?

My Mother's Day tree in full bloom on a rainy evening.

Because, often, I read what someone else is doing (the French, in this case), convince myself that it is "right," and then try to emulate it. Of course, this never really works, the main reason being that I am not French; I grew up in the middle of the USA. I am American, through and through, so just trying to "be" French will never work. (Obvious, I know, but still I try.)

So, maybe the question is: What does it mean to live well to me?

And you?

Avoidance.

That's the reason I haven't posted anything in quite a while. It started, though, with apathy. Actually, it goes even further back than that.

I wanted to know - really know, as in experience and see - the Holy Spirit. Although I've been a Christian from a young age being raised in the church, I never really understood or experienced the Holy Spirit in a tangible way. So I asked. Instead I got apathy, thick and strong.

I felt like everything around was dull. I didn't want to spend time with my Father, which made me sad. But at the same time, I just didn't care. Like I said, apathy set in thick and strong.

I was in that place for a few weeks, not caring, and not caring that I didn't care, until one day while talking with my sister-in-law. She reminded me (as she had multiple times previously) that Jesus simply wanted to spend time with me. Out of my mouth (straight from my heart) came spiteful and angry words: "Just like everybody else. He just wants my time like everybody else."

Those words and the force behind them shocked me. I couldn't believe that's what I'd been feeling. I couldn't believe that's what I'd been believing about my Father and my Savior. I was full of shame. But in His absolute goodness, He used my shame to bring me back to him.

Through the blogs (and quick emails) of some beautiful sisters whom I've never actually met, he reminded me that I simply need to choose Him. I can choose to live in apathy, or I can choose to live in Him. And choosing apathy is choosing death, plain and simply. Only He will give me life. That's when I chose Him, and He told me a new story...

Thank you to the two women who encouraged me in their blogs, Annie and Lauren , your faithfulness to our Lord is beautiful.

Megan