I’m an introvert. Ever since my toddler days, I’ve experienced individuals who tend to make introverts feel as if they are weird, wrong, or incapable. My preschool teacher used to address her concern to my mother that I would sit contently in the corner and work puzzles rather than interact with other kids—the horror! Even today, at age 47, if I explain to somebody why crowds exhaust me and I prefer solitude to a gaggle, or a few close friends to a drove, I hear the same phrase, “Keep working on it, you’ll get there.” My reaction is often silent, yet in my head I ask, “Get where? I’m already here.” There is such a misconception about introversion, even more so today in this extremely extroverted culture. Introversion is not a social anxiety or disease that one needs to get over or improve. It’s a personality trait. Introverts and Extroverts perceive, address, and pursue things differently. We may have the same goals or desires; we just speak different languages. To confuse things, some linger in the middle between introvert and extrovert. If you don’t know for sure, it’s worth figuring out. Daily life could be so much easier with a little understanding.
 
In terms of Christianity and the modern church, there is even black and white disparity for how we are expected to love and have community with others. There is a reason why there are so many spiritual gifts tests available. Heed them! Because God didn’t wire us the same way, so we shouldn’t be expected to operate in the polar opposites capacity if we weren’t naturally equipped to function in that manner. I do believe there are times when God asks us to go beyond our natural realm. He gives us what we need when we need it to fulfill that particular commission. But I feel an ultimate purpose for our lives is to see clearly by walking in truth, grow in how He’s gifted us, reach out to others in our specified manner according to our divine gifts and/or skill sets. Extroverts, to my understanding, are good at verbally reaching out by lively conversation and engaging with others, while introverts might discreetly send a card, email, or touching song link to the individual on his/her mind.
 
God most often calls me to deep waters to pray and intercede, meditate, worship, and write. Another person might thrive leading a room full of energetic children or hosting an event. I wouldn’t expect to stick a people-person in a place of solitude for a great length of time and watch them flourish. They’d get through the situation, perhaps, but it would be somewhat of an affliction. I’ve learned this through my son who, though we are very close, is my polar opposite. He’s as much an extrovert as I am an introvert and I’ve learned a lot by watching him grow. So…the same goes for an introvert when asked to do something out of an ordinary characteristic for them, which I’ve also had more of than a healthy share.
 
There is beauty in the diversity of gifts, which seem to conjoin personality traits. We are various parts of a body meant to work together as one. Introversion is not a disease, it is not fatal, it’s a part of the body, and it has its specific, healthy place in life and in God’s kingdom.
 
Romans 12: 4-8
“For just as we have many members in one body and all the members do not have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Since we have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, each of us is to exercise them accordingly: if prophecy, according to the proportion of his faith; if service, in his serving; or he who teaches, in his teaching; or he who exhorts, in his exhortation; he who gives, with liberality; he who leads, with diligence; he who shows mercy, with cheerfulness.”

Here it is, the last day of January, and ever since the beginning of the New Year, I’ve witnessed many people talk about wrapping 2017 around a single word. What one word will be your emblematic motto?
 
I’ve always had a Biblical verse as the theme for an oncoming twelve months, never a single word. After pondering, I finally deliberated that my word is Onward. I don’t have new plans for this year, per se, but I have pre-set plans that, unless the Good Lord deems otherwise, I intend to accomplish. So…onward I go. My word just happens to coincide with my verse for this year: “Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.” Proverbs 16:3
 
To help inspire me, I’ve posted near my desk a recent drawing my son did. It’s a ten-second sketch, but speaks volumes of how he sees me. How I interpret, anyway. In the rough outline, I see most of all, diligence. Diligence is a part of my name…literally, my birth name means diligent harvester. And back in the day, a few I’d toured with didn’t call me “Tenacious Tessa” for nothing. All of this is a part of me still, and accompanies my present word for a 2017 focus, Onward.
 
Another word has snuck up, however; more like hammering me in the head everywhere I turn. That is, Meekness. It’s a word definition I seem drawn to, yet hear very little about in this day of narcissistic society. The world tends to interpret meekness as weakness or wimpy. Truth is it takes more strength to hold your tongue when you want to give a what-for, to exhibit kindness regardless of circumstance, and to portray leadership partnered with humility, a humble leader, putting others first. When I recently heard a sermon by Mark Hoffman/2RC on the topic of meekness, I learned a perfect definition for the word. Meekness is “Strength under control.” That is definitely something for which I wish to wrap not only my year but also my entire life around.
 
Okay, so maybe I have two words this year. To sum it up, I strongly desire to have a year of pressing onward with meekness. How about you? What might be your word?

Several times, recently, I’ve been asked: “Why not share some pictures of your son on Facebook?” While I had in the past and still might do so on an infrequent occasion, I simply don’t wish to share my daily life with the entire world. To be a “friend” on social media means that we could have some things in common, might follow each other due to career paths, special interest groups, etc. But truth be told, a small percentage are people I truly know, are related to, or trust with my most precious treasure, my family.
 
I love this life, the diverse concepts, and the interesting people in it. It’s fun to connect! We can learn a thing or two about and from each other. But I’m not going to splatter much news on the internet about my family, or when I or my son sneezes.
 
Here’s something that humorously puts it into perspective. A friend shared the following with me, so I’m sharing it with you in the rare case you haven’t already seen it. Things posted on social media have a way of circulating in ways of which you might not even be aware – so, be wary! I’ve discovered some of my own author profile pictures having been unknowingly copied and used for certain non-writing advertising sites in other countries. (Regarding our children, we should be especially vigilant). So here I am sharing this popular short passage for which I don’t even know whom to give proper credit. I thank the “nameless” author for proving my point.

Jesus knew beforehand of Judas Iscariot’s betrayal, expected it, even waited for it, yet he still washes the man’s feet. Washing of feet was an act of servitude provided as an example to us of acceptance, of humility, of love, of forgiveness. I am both baffled and intrigued by the role of Judas – also, of how Christians view him. Most would say that Judas was possessed, for we are told the devil entered him, and lost forever. But Jesus, a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief, in a single moment would be betrayed by ALL, washes the feet of the one people blame the most for perfidy.

Iscariot, indeed, had a weakness for silver. The treasurer for the disciples, he pilfered along the way. Jesus knew this, yet kept him as overseer of the money bag. Why?

My thought is that somebody had to play the role of Judas. If not Judas, then somebody else had to fulfill the prophecy of the messiah, his torture, his death, his resurrection – salvation, the avenue intended for every soul’s ultimate deliverance unto God. Maybe there’s a wider spot of clemency for the one chosen to fulfill an ugly yet necessary role.

Many would say that Judas was beyond help, uncaring, unfeeling and consumed with sinful nature. Yet after realizing what he had done, that is, was paid to identify his master to the Roman soldiers via the Sanhedrin by poetically placing a kiss on his cheek, scripture (Matthew 27:5) says that he threw down the pieces of silver he received as payment for the dirty deed, and went out and hanged himself. Does that sound like somebody who was uncaring and unfeeling?

The end appears hopeless. Judas hung himself – an act of desperation. And after the body had fried in the hot Jerusalem sun, bloated from bacterial gases, it fell to the ground and erupted. It’s a messy, distorted picture. It appears like he got what he deserved and this was his entrance to hell.

But who would really know, except God, if Judas Iscariot, an unconditionally loved child of God, in his last remorseful breath, had cried out in his weakened constitution, “Forgive me. Forgive me.” In that private, desperate moment, between him and his maker, who could honestly say?

Forgiveness driven or regret driven…is there even a difference?

Whatever happened to the value of solitude, simplicity, of being still? Seems I’ve examined the lives of others around me for years and, shaking my head, quietly whispered words of gratitude that I hadn’t run around as frantically as they do. You know…work, more work, even more work, appointments, obligations, juggling family needs, kid diversions, school, cleaning, renovations, getting ahead, jumping from place to place, event to event, constant stimuli everywhere one turns; the rat race. I’d once vouched never to subject my child to an ever-streaming deluge of entertainment-based activities. Once in a while is all right, maybe even special. Boredom once did a child good, served a purpose, propelled creativity and stretched independent thinking. I don’t know what happened, but I’m suddenly THAT person, the one I’d once, in a small way, pitied, who has tipped away the beautiful scales of balance. I’m overwhelmed with busyness. Life has grown too chaotic. Downtime is complicated. First, it’s hard to achieve. Second, when you actually make it happen, a rare pencil mark on the calendar, that moment arrives and doesn’t seem to be enough. You’re thirsty for more. At the same time, guilt has a way of wiggling in there telling you that it’s not okay to relax – as long as there are other things to do, and there are ALWAYS other things to be done. How did this all happen? I don’t like being this busy, when I can’t stop for a second to watch a bird teeter on a twig. Because I enjoy that…watching birds teeter on twigs. Indeed, daily life has grown chaotic. Like the structure of those around me in what has become the normal standard of life. Can I still breathe? Maybe I should freeze for a second to find out. I’m not sure this kind of frenzied lifestyle is great or healthy, but this seems to be the way it has become. As if there is a subliminal message in our culture that busyness equates to importance. Can we be too busy for our own good? For me, that’s a definite yes. I begin my rebellion today. Just after I take care of this one thing first.

I like being still. I like solitude. But I like them on my own terms. Having finished a two week mandatory rest due to a back injury I couldn't decide which was worse, the pain or the fixed inactivity. Drove “restless me” a bit crazy.

Ergonomics a “back” factor as well, the suggestion to sit balanced on an exercise ball for limited computer sessions to write and meet freelancing deadlines made me feel strangely disconnected. What kind of circus is this?

Fortunate in that I had managed to remain injury free throughout my previous years of dance, this whole thing I’m experiencing now, a sprain stemmed from a developed condition prevalent among older dancers, is weird.

My nature is to plow into interests rather than ease. When I had recently decided to return to dance I plowed. When will I become a graduate of the nagging KISS principle? Now I face several months of therapy before I can venture back to dance activities (harrumph). In a fit of rebellion I had wanted to deny the back condition, plug my fingers into my ears and sing, “LaLaLa-I-Can’t-Hear-You-LaLaLa.” Except, physical stipulations speak louder; my body won’t allow the revolt. What I’m learning here – what I've had to learn before – is that there are periods in life when one must exercise patience. Not only exercise but embrace. There is beauty in being still, but you have to truly be still – mind, body, spirit – to perceive it.

“Adopt the pace of nature; patience is her virtue.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Be still, and know that I am God.”—Psalm 46:10

Newly released, my latest novel from the Hearts in Africa series. Now available on Amazon.

"Sometimes people ask God to join them in what they are doing, rather than joining God in what He is doing. Emotional tension already high, Nick and Claire are jostled by circumstances as they struggle between human understanding, desire, and the will of God. In the end, they realize that He had their best interests in mind all along. From the wilderness of Washington State, straight to the heart of the Maasai in Tanzania, onto the spice island of Zanzibar and around again, the path of faith and the outcome of their relationship are ultimately made clear in a whirlwind of adventure, trials, and enduring love. Uniquely sweet, Carry My Heart is a memorable missionary romance." ~ CPP

I want a t-shirt that says “I HAVE ISSUES.” It would serve as part of the 7 Steps to Humanity program. Geared especially for those in the political arena, for I've come to learn that politics is the Great Evil (late bloomer, I know…). Politics can turn the most mild-mannered, soft-spoken individual into Chief Butthead (apologies first to my dear mother for my use of the “B” word then to everyone else for behaving like one).

It’s like this. The next time you start to make a politically charged statement that has the potential to offend and/or hurt others, one might just point to the shirt, a silent reminder that you’re stepping out of bounds, and vice versa. I’ll be the first (hand raised) to commit to wearing one. This proposal could be a remedy for the shame of having to apologize to gobs of people or burying your head in the sand. A solution to save our society from dystopia. Think about it. We all wear the shirts and we become better, more conscientious people. People who value, respect, and uphold all humankind, regardless of background, race, sides, and conditions. We understand each other. We’re all in this together. Now imagine a sea of I HAVE ISSUES in Congress. Wow. Talk about humility. Simple, right?

It would never work.

April Fools.