There comes a time when you have to say "goodbye" to the things of the past; a point where you wake up to the reality that your future can't involve people or situations over which you have no control. A moment you are fully aware that you are being controlled emotionally by the disappointment and, as a consequence, that your time and your energy and, very sadly, your state of mind are being held hostage to your inability to open your hand to a future without your past.
When you hit that crossroads, you know walking forward without looking back is the best thing you can do.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I have this history, this long list of things done to fix my own situation.
I've tried to hold my head up high and proclaim that I don't care (not true). I've tried asking for a heart that isn't hurt (but it is). I've tried being strong and muscling through (heaping on more disappointment).
Yet, I've found, in my own strength, I am extremely weak. I can't say goodbye just once. It seems I KEEP running backward to say goodbye "one last time", hoping against hope that something will have changed and that my goodbye will end up being a new hello.
This goodbye reminds me of the "on again, off again" relationships I seemed to have post-college. The kind that involved men I am so incredibly thankful I didn't marry. The kind that were on again in sloppy conversations at midnight after one-too-many-drinks. And, off again, when I realized the next morning, mid-hangover, that he wasn't ever going to change.
If I know my past isn't good for me, why in Heaven's name do I keep trying to fix it and make it my present?
I realize I am better off to move on. I realize I am the only one in this equation who apparently cares. I am blatantly aware that this is not going to change.
So, I must. It's just so damn hard.
Not so long ago I studied Job and his stubborn character. Job was, if nothing else, a zealot for his way of doing things. Even when it was abundantly clear he was fighting against God and wasn't going to win, he kept ignoring God and running back to his own way. It literally took Job being on the doorstep of death before he got the picture that it was God's way or no way at all. So, Job finally relented, got the task done, and sat down in the desert and had a big, fat pity-party for himself, shaking his fists at God for making him obey.
I feel like Job, mid-mission, without the death wish.
I know moving forward is for my own good. I know God has His hands all over these circumstances. I know that I am doing myself little, if any, good in wishing for things that are clearly not going to happen. My brain KNOWS.
But my heart is broken in little, tiny pieces. And it has been for too many years.
Some days, with God's help, I feel strong enough to dream about moving forward; I make baby steps toward healing. Other days, I battle life alone and tip-toe backwards to play the "what if" game solo. On the worst of days, I blame myself for the brokenness, as if I could change the circumstances and God's mind by simply demonstrating how much I don't want to leave the past behind.
In the strength only God can provide, I want to be the anti-Job. I want to hear God's voice and obey, even if I have no explanation as to the "whys" and "what ifs". I want to say goodbye, without God having to remind me to do so for the umpteenth time, even if I might die trying. I want to be convicted that change is the right thing to do, not just for myself, but for everyone involved. And, when this long goodbye comes down to one last farewell, I want to look back and celebrate the victory of taking care of what God has known all along was my job to accomplish, even if this was the longest goodbye ever.
I know my God is bigger than these circumstances. And, I'm grateful that my heart can be mended and the hurt plucked out so that I can see a future without my past.
God, please grant me the peace and wisdom to see this through to completion. Help me to understand what I need to do. Break me where I need to be broken. Heal me where I need to be healed. Help me to forgive where forgiveness is the only solution. Love me back to wholeness again. Replace my disappointment with gratitude for all I have in the here-and-now. Let my hands be open to see my present blessings and to receive the gifts you are trying to give, gifts that will replace the shattered dreams of my past.
You are bigger than all of this God. Let me never, ever forget that.
Amen.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Not ashamed to be called "American"
I am tired of America being blamed for a host of ills around the world. I'm sick of hearing people complain that America is an awful place to live because we fear illness that is capable of killing us. I'm weary from hearing how this "land of opportunity" isn't doing, giving, and assisting those who are capable of helping themselves.
Can we, for once, just place the insult where it REALLY belongs? At the foot of the ruler of this evil world, Satan?
Sure, we are each full of sin and hatred and worry and (insert word here). That hasn't changed for a couple of millenia. I don't expect that will change until Jesus wipes this planet clean and starts afresh.
But, we are a good (not perfect) nation.
What other country has the reputation for being able and willing to help in all-sort of situations?
What other country has people jumping over barriers trying to get in?
What other country has freedom of speech and religion?
What other country has boy-men still selflessly signing up to fight for the liberties we all enjoy?
What other country has a system of government that allows us to vote out those who aren't effective?
There is a reason people from other countries still look to America to help them bear their burdens. We've, historically, been reliable in supporting others during famine and war and injustice. We are first-responders after hurricanes and tsunamis and other devastating natural occurrences. The amount of food and clothing and medical supplies that flows out of our country to others is unrivaled. We volunteer our time, money, talents, and energy to fly to other parts of the world and use our vacation days to make the lives of the less fortunate more fortunate.
Sure, we have our problems. Our government is often gridlocked. There are greed-mongers present at every station of life, from the poorest to the richest. Our media is polarized and ineffective at reporting the facts without adding spin.
But, hard-working, honest, helpful people are around us every day.
Will we choose to ignore them? Would we rather focus on the lazy, dishonest, slandering folks who seem to fill our heads with how "evil" America is?
Not I, thank you very much.
I am going to go about the business of cleaning out my insides first so my heart is in the right place. I am going to be THANKFUL I live in a country which affords me the ability to help others who are less fortunate.
I am not going to look God in the proverbial eye, spit in His face, and say "You put me here? Are you kidding? What kind of blessing is this, living here?" What an insult I would be to my Maker to assume He doesn't know exactly where I am supposed to be.
A grateful heart, full of love for a country that does its best (and, like all things on Earth, often fails), is what we should all be striving toward.
Let's thank God, instead of slamming our country.
Let's remember who is ultimately in control.
Let's not look at others' suffering and assume we should feel bad about ourselves because we are afraid that suffering might land on our doorstep.
Let's be honest. We are fallen. We hurt. We worry. We fear.
But...
Let's step up and forgive. Let's step out and admit our faults. Let's move forward, past the anger and concern.
Let's bless others.
With no expectation of return.
Let's bless America, so she can continue to bless others, too.
And, mostly, let's hit our knees and thank God for allowing us the privilege of His wisdom, guidance, and strength, if only we will ask. Thank Him for sending His son to die in our place. Thank Him for making us a voice for the voiceless.
We are only here for a short time. Let's use that gift to be thankful for our lives. Let's bless this land, instead of cursing it, so we leave it to the next generation as a place they feel honored to live, not ashamed to call home.
Can we, for once, just place the insult where it REALLY belongs? At the foot of the ruler of this evil world, Satan?
Sure, we are each full of sin and hatred and worry and (insert word here). That hasn't changed for a couple of millenia. I don't expect that will change until Jesus wipes this planet clean and starts afresh.
But, we are a good (not perfect) nation.
What other country has the reputation for being able and willing to help in all-sort of situations?
What other country has people jumping over barriers trying to get in?
What other country has freedom of speech and religion?
What other country has boy-men still selflessly signing up to fight for the liberties we all enjoy?
What other country has a system of government that allows us to vote out those who aren't effective?
There is a reason people from other countries still look to America to help them bear their burdens. We've, historically, been reliable in supporting others during famine and war and injustice. We are first-responders after hurricanes and tsunamis and other devastating natural occurrences. The amount of food and clothing and medical supplies that flows out of our country to others is unrivaled. We volunteer our time, money, talents, and energy to fly to other parts of the world and use our vacation days to make the lives of the less fortunate more fortunate.
Sure, we have our problems. Our government is often gridlocked. There are greed-mongers present at every station of life, from the poorest to the richest. Our media is polarized and ineffective at reporting the facts without adding spin.
But, hard-working, honest, helpful people are around us every day.
Will we choose to ignore them? Would we rather focus on the lazy, dishonest, slandering folks who seem to fill our heads with how "evil" America is?
Not I, thank you very much.
I am going to go about the business of cleaning out my insides first so my heart is in the right place. I am going to be THANKFUL I live in a country which affords me the ability to help others who are less fortunate.
I am not going to look God in the proverbial eye, spit in His face, and say "You put me here? Are you kidding? What kind of blessing is this, living here?" What an insult I would be to my Maker to assume He doesn't know exactly where I am supposed to be.
A grateful heart, full of love for a country that does its best (and, like all things on Earth, often fails), is what we should all be striving toward.
Let's thank God, instead of slamming our country.
Let's remember who is ultimately in control.
Let's not look at others' suffering and assume we should feel bad about ourselves because we are afraid that suffering might land on our doorstep.
Let's be honest. We are fallen. We hurt. We worry. We fear.
But...
Let's step up and forgive. Let's step out and admit our faults. Let's move forward, past the anger and concern.
Let's bless others.
With no expectation of return.
Let's bless America, so she can continue to bless others, too.
And, mostly, let's hit our knees and thank God for allowing us the privilege of His wisdom, guidance, and strength, if only we will ask. Thank Him for sending His son to die in our place. Thank Him for making us a voice for the voiceless.
We are only here for a short time. Let's use that gift to be thankful for our lives. Let's bless this land, instead of cursing it, so we leave it to the next generation as a place they feel honored to live, not ashamed to call home.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Truth
We are the most threatened and defensive when people speak truth into our lives.
I learned this today, when I lovingly offered a dissenting opinion to a friend. A friend who was looking for people to verify she should be angry, escalate an issue above a person's head, and be generally hurt over something that had happened to her child.
I offered that, maybe giving another chance (because you really don't know what is going on behind the scenes) might be reasonable. Meeting face-to-face would be in order. At that meeting, discussing the very issues that made her angry would be smart. Volunteering to help would be a nice touch, too.
The response was more anger, this time directed at me. I could read the "How could you be so insensitive?" all over the response. She didn't have to say it; you could read it between the lines.
I propose that this is the very problem we have with people in this world. When we ask for an honest assessment, we really don't want it; we want people to clone our emotions and spit them back out at us, along with a "I'm sorry you are being so violated".
Folks, let's put down our first-world, upper-middle class problems and really dig deep here.
Life is fleeting. It is over in the blink of an eye. Your present circumstances rarely are worth a second thought, much less an entire diatribe determined to help you gain support and fuel your anger to bonfire proportions.
In moments like this, we are EXACTLY where Satan wants us. And THAT is the reason we feel threatened and defensive; we are doing the exact opposite of loving others. When we walk outside the lines of loving other people, no matter how much they screw up or screw us or screw our friends, we have temporarily lost touch with God.
It isn't until the situation has passed that most people realize their error. And, by then, they have often left a trail of destructive behavior that is messy and ugly and needs an industrial-size clean-up.
Trust me. I know.
When life hits you hard, hit your knees. Forget calling your best friend, unless you count your best friends as Jesus. Take it to Him. Lay it at His feet. Ask His opinion. And, when He answers, LISTEN and RESPOND ACCORDINGLY.
People most always (read that again: MOST ALWAYS) are going to try to make you feel better about the error of your ways. They will give you examples of times they faced the same harsh treatment. They will nod their heads and tell you how awful you've been treated. But how you respond to the dissenting opinion in the crowd will often point you in a better direction.
Jesus was a man of controversy. He didn't look to the world to determine how to handle situations (thank goodness!) He often made statements that went against the grain and against human logic (turn the other cheek? really?) If we are to follow Him, we have to lay down our defensive attitudes, our need to be seen as "right", and our desire to have agreement from Earthly sources.
Learn to speak truth to others. Learn to accept truth from others. Learn to learn from everyone in the moment, where they are, faults and opinions hanging out for others to take or leave, and glean what you can without insult.
Mostly, grab Jesus by the hand when you are unsure. Allow Him to calm your fears and nerves and anxieties.
If you do that, your worries will become His.
You will walk in the freedom of knowing your wisdom is not from the world.
And, most of your problems will seem trivial.
Because, in the great big scheme of things, they really, really are.
I learned this today, when I lovingly offered a dissenting opinion to a friend. A friend who was looking for people to verify she should be angry, escalate an issue above a person's head, and be generally hurt over something that had happened to her child.
I offered that, maybe giving another chance (because you really don't know what is going on behind the scenes) might be reasonable. Meeting face-to-face would be in order. At that meeting, discussing the very issues that made her angry would be smart. Volunteering to help would be a nice touch, too.
The response was more anger, this time directed at me. I could read the "How could you be so insensitive?" all over the response. She didn't have to say it; you could read it between the lines.
I propose that this is the very problem we have with people in this world. When we ask for an honest assessment, we really don't want it; we want people to clone our emotions and spit them back out at us, along with a "I'm sorry you are being so violated".
Folks, let's put down our first-world, upper-middle class problems and really dig deep here.
Life is fleeting. It is over in the blink of an eye. Your present circumstances rarely are worth a second thought, much less an entire diatribe determined to help you gain support and fuel your anger to bonfire proportions.
In moments like this, we are EXACTLY where Satan wants us. And THAT is the reason we feel threatened and defensive; we are doing the exact opposite of loving others. When we walk outside the lines of loving other people, no matter how much they screw up or screw us or screw our friends, we have temporarily lost touch with God.
It isn't until the situation has passed that most people realize their error. And, by then, they have often left a trail of destructive behavior that is messy and ugly and needs an industrial-size clean-up.
Trust me. I know.
When life hits you hard, hit your knees. Forget calling your best friend, unless you count your best friends as Jesus. Take it to Him. Lay it at His feet. Ask His opinion. And, when He answers, LISTEN and RESPOND ACCORDINGLY.
People most always (read that again: MOST ALWAYS) are going to try to make you feel better about the error of your ways. They will give you examples of times they faced the same harsh treatment. They will nod their heads and tell you how awful you've been treated. But how you respond to the dissenting opinion in the crowd will often point you in a better direction.
Jesus was a man of controversy. He didn't look to the world to determine how to handle situations (thank goodness!) He often made statements that went against the grain and against human logic (turn the other cheek? really?) If we are to follow Him, we have to lay down our defensive attitudes, our need to be seen as "right", and our desire to have agreement from Earthly sources.
Learn to speak truth to others. Learn to accept truth from others. Learn to learn from everyone in the moment, where they are, faults and opinions hanging out for others to take or leave, and glean what you can without insult.
Mostly, grab Jesus by the hand when you are unsure. Allow Him to calm your fears and nerves and anxieties.
If you do that, your worries will become His.
You will walk in the freedom of knowing your wisdom is not from the world.
And, most of your problems will seem trivial.
Because, in the great big scheme of things, they really, really are.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Through the Darkness
Drought. For a year now. Unquenchable thirst. Soul hungry. Yet, unaware.
How did this happen?
Almost to the day, one year ago, Hoo made the transition back to our beloved Shelton School, putting all three boys under one educational roof for the first time. By all accounts, we were blessed. We could run carpool once. Everyone's holiday schedules synced up. The boys were learning and not struggling with hours upon hours of homework anymore.
Yet, unbeknownst to me at the time, a year-long drought of the soul was beginning.
If you looked at my life back then, you'd think all was good; I would have told you "It is well". I planned and attended three Christian retreats with three separate friends in three different parts of Texas. I was immersed in "good" Christian projects. I felt the Spirit moving.
And, yet, I was choking on the sand of the drought raging within myself.
Awake. Blinders gone. A stranger in a strange land. Blinking. Stumbling into this new life.
When I was drowning, I fell through my days, checking off this and that task and generally patting myself on the back for "doing good".
Now that I'm fully awake, I understand those checklists are heresy. God fully loves me whether I sit in my pajamas and type until carpool time or run around feeding the homeless or creating lessons for Sunday or making plans to take a missions trip. These things don't change His love. They change me, for certain. But, NOT HIM. My works do not equal His love.
This was what I didn't understand when I was thirsty: I am all God wants. Twenty pounds over the weight I'd like to be. Tears streaming down my face or joy pouring out of my smile. Whether I have forgiven my neighbor or am still ranting. I am imperfect. God is perfect. That is the way it is to be. And it IS GOOD.
The darkness is crazy. When you are there you hardly know it. You try to quench a thirst you don't understand with more "Christianity". Those around you can't put their finger on it. Your walk seems so straight. You seem so immersed in the good things. So, the elephant in the room isn't discussed. It is simply endured by all.
Awake, you rage. WHY...Didn't you say anything? Didn't you try to help? Didn't you care?
Those who love you don't know the answers. They, too, were blind, deaf, and dumb to the process. How do you articulate what you don't understand?
Coming out of the dark, the bright hurts. The realization of the change is startling. The acceptance of the new bends your mind to the point of pain.
How can you explain that you were a sleep-walker for a year of your life? That you were checking boxes and driving kids to lessons and cooking meals but NONE OF IT MATTERED? You can only feebly offer that you have emerged, like a sleep-drunk black bear after a long nap, to a new year of life.
You try to explain the "new" you and reflect on the time lost. You talk through the worry your lost-state caused. You apologize for the giant wake left. But, in the back of your soul, you know there isn't anything to be sorry for. God took you through this. It was for purpose. It was hard. Necessary. You barely understood what was happening to you so you can't offer much to those who were collateral damage.
Everyone takes comfort you are "better". Like life restored after a lingering low-grade fever breaks. A minute ago you were sick; all the sudden you are fine. And you know you have endured the struggle and can move on. You rise and shower off the old and towel dry yourself and put on clean clothes and think "I'm better now." And the best part? It's not just better, it's better than better. You've survived the dark, found the light, and learned from the process.
You've grown closer to God as you've struggled. You've relied fully on Him, not even knowing you were being held and given a piggy-back ride through the blahs. "Praise God for carrying me when I didn't even know I was limping."
I'd love to think this is the last year God is going to need to put me in the desert with a water bottle I perceived as empty. I'd love to think this is the last stretch of time leading to the maturity He seeks in me. I'd love to think I can walk a straight line to God. But I know better.
The desert is His training ground. The water bottle is full. When I am sun-drenched and burned, He will lift me and walk while I cry. He will SHOW ME there is water to be had. It will be up to me to decide if I will drink.
The maturity is beginning to form. It is evident in my thinking but not yet all my actions. The imperfect-perfection He can create in me is only just in its chrysalis stage. I pray for the growth to be accomplished, even if it means painful change.
Straight lines just aren't a trademark of my life. Crooked, gnarling, scary rides with ad nauseam loop-de-loops are more my style. Even that, I know, God can help me overcome. I wish, instead, for the serenity of the lost lake in the woods of nowhere, but will have to see what is in store. Again, let God's will with my life be done.
"Come do life with me", He seems to say. And, for today, I accept His call, lift my hand to cup His, and we walk together.
Come what may.
How did this happen?
Almost to the day, one year ago, Hoo made the transition back to our beloved Shelton School, putting all three boys under one educational roof for the first time. By all accounts, we were blessed. We could run carpool once. Everyone's holiday schedules synced up. The boys were learning and not struggling with hours upon hours of homework anymore.
Yet, unbeknownst to me at the time, a year-long drought of the soul was beginning.
If you looked at my life back then, you'd think all was good; I would have told you "It is well". I planned and attended three Christian retreats with three separate friends in three different parts of Texas. I was immersed in "good" Christian projects. I felt the Spirit moving.
And, yet, I was choking on the sand of the drought raging within myself.
Awake. Blinders gone. A stranger in a strange land. Blinking. Stumbling into this new life.
When I was drowning, I fell through my days, checking off this and that task and generally patting myself on the back for "doing good".
Now that I'm fully awake, I understand those checklists are heresy. God fully loves me whether I sit in my pajamas and type until carpool time or run around feeding the homeless or creating lessons for Sunday or making plans to take a missions trip. These things don't change His love. They change me, for certain. But, NOT HIM. My works do not equal His love.
This was what I didn't understand when I was thirsty: I am all God wants. Twenty pounds over the weight I'd like to be. Tears streaming down my face or joy pouring out of my smile. Whether I have forgiven my neighbor or am still ranting. I am imperfect. God is perfect. That is the way it is to be. And it IS GOOD.
The darkness is crazy. When you are there you hardly know it. You try to quench a thirst you don't understand with more "Christianity". Those around you can't put their finger on it. Your walk seems so straight. You seem so immersed in the good things. So, the elephant in the room isn't discussed. It is simply endured by all.
Awake, you rage. WHY...Didn't you say anything? Didn't you try to help? Didn't you care?
Those who love you don't know the answers. They, too, were blind, deaf, and dumb to the process. How do you articulate what you don't understand?
Coming out of the dark, the bright hurts. The realization of the change is startling. The acceptance of the new bends your mind to the point of pain.
How can you explain that you were a sleep-walker for a year of your life? That you were checking boxes and driving kids to lessons and cooking meals but NONE OF IT MATTERED? You can only feebly offer that you have emerged, like a sleep-drunk black bear after a long nap, to a new year of life.
You try to explain the "new" you and reflect on the time lost. You talk through the worry your lost-state caused. You apologize for the giant wake left. But, in the back of your soul, you know there isn't anything to be sorry for. God took you through this. It was for purpose. It was hard. Necessary. You barely understood what was happening to you so you can't offer much to those who were collateral damage.
Everyone takes comfort you are "better". Like life restored after a lingering low-grade fever breaks. A minute ago you were sick; all the sudden you are fine. And you know you have endured the struggle and can move on. You rise and shower off the old and towel dry yourself and put on clean clothes and think "I'm better now." And the best part? It's not just better, it's better than better. You've survived the dark, found the light, and learned from the process.
You've grown closer to God as you've struggled. You've relied fully on Him, not even knowing you were being held and given a piggy-back ride through the blahs. "Praise God for carrying me when I didn't even know I was limping."
I'd love to think this is the last year God is going to need to put me in the desert with a water bottle I perceived as empty. I'd love to think this is the last stretch of time leading to the maturity He seeks in me. I'd love to think I can walk a straight line to God. But I know better.
The desert is His training ground. The water bottle is full. When I am sun-drenched and burned, He will lift me and walk while I cry. He will SHOW ME there is water to be had. It will be up to me to decide if I will drink.
The maturity is beginning to form. It is evident in my thinking but not yet all my actions. The imperfect-perfection He can create in me is only just in its chrysalis stage. I pray for the growth to be accomplished, even if it means painful change.
Straight lines just aren't a trademark of my life. Crooked, gnarling, scary rides with ad nauseam loop-de-loops are more my style. Even that, I know, God can help me overcome. I wish, instead, for the serenity of the lost lake in the woods of nowhere, but will have to see what is in store. Again, let God's will with my life be done.
"Come do life with me", He seems to say. And, for today, I accept His call, lift my hand to cup His, and we walk together.
Come what may.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Today
"Shot himself"
Two words from a text that marked the end of a ninth grader's life.
A ninth grader.
Who was probably fifteen.
Emotions rushing in and back and through and out.
Tears flowing freely.
Body heaving, holding my boy. Telling him over and over again how important and special and needed and loved he is.
Reminding him to talk when he hurts.
Speak about his feelings.
Share his heart.
And know that we love him deeply. And how missed he would be if he were to die.
Die.
Two days ago no one knew this would be the date at the end of the dash.
No one knew the long goodbye would be upon them.
It's just not supposed to happen this way.
Too much grief for one family.
For the family of God.
For the school.
Answers to the "why" don't matter right now.
Holding our babies close does.
Telling them of our love and God's love and the Devil's schemes.
Right now is the time.
Tomorrow may be too late.
Rise. Speak. Love.
Conquer the hate with your actions.
Demolish the evil voices with your own.
Teach. Listen. Teach more. Pray. Repeat.
Text "I love you" more frequently.
Speak of "God loves you" with even more frequency.
Overcome this world's message "You aren't important or needed or loved".
Today.
In this moment.
For life.
Two words from a text that marked the end of a ninth grader's life.
A ninth grader.
Who was probably fifteen.
Emotions rushing in and back and through and out.
Tears flowing freely.
Body heaving, holding my boy. Telling him over and over again how important and special and needed and loved he is.
Reminding him to talk when he hurts.
Speak about his feelings.
Share his heart.
And know that we love him deeply. And how missed he would be if he were to die.
Die.
Two days ago no one knew this would be the date at the end of the dash.
No one knew the long goodbye would be upon them.
It's just not supposed to happen this way.
Too much grief for one family.
For the family of God.
For the school.
Answers to the "why" don't matter right now.
Holding our babies close does.
Telling them of our love and God's love and the Devil's schemes.
Right now is the time.
Tomorrow may be too late.
Rise. Speak. Love.
Conquer the hate with your actions.
Demolish the evil voices with your own.
Teach. Listen. Teach more. Pray. Repeat.
Text "I love you" more frequently.
Speak of "God loves you" with even more frequency.
Overcome this world's message "You aren't important or needed or loved".
Today.
In this moment.
For life.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Day Nine
Our experiment in responsibility turned nine days old today. Nine days of less nagging (by us), whining (by them), and a whole lot more peace around this joint.
As he ate breakfast this morning, Hooman illustrated exactly why we are doing this:
"I'm liking mornings now."
"Really? Why?"
"Well, they are just better."
"How so?" (I wasn't going to put words in his mouth to save my soul)
"I like that we have to be responsible."
(THUNK. My jaw hit the floor.)
What I really wanted to do was stand up and do this. Instead, I played it really cool and just sat there, high-fiving Mike in my brain.
The Bible was right. Why did I doubt it? We were given work way the heck back in Genesis. Sure, it was a curse in the moment, but in the long run it has given us worth. Work is responsibility. And when you are responsible for yourself and work for the greater good of your family, you end up proud.
Thank you, Lord; You have been so good to provide meaningful work. Help us to recognize that our ultimate reward is the joy of knowing we've done well in Your sight. Amen.
As he ate breakfast this morning, Hooman illustrated exactly why we are doing this:
"I'm liking mornings now."
"Really? Why?"
"Well, they are just better."
"How so?" (I wasn't going to put words in his mouth to save my soul)
"I like that we have to be responsible."
(THUNK. My jaw hit the floor.)
What I really wanted to do was stand up and do this. Instead, I played it really cool and just sat there, high-fiving Mike in my brain.
The Bible was right. Why did I doubt it? We were given work way the heck back in Genesis. Sure, it was a curse in the moment, but in the long run it has given us worth. Work is responsibility. And when you are responsible for yourself and work for the greater good of your family, you end up proud.
Thank you, Lord; You have been so good to provide meaningful work. Help us to recognize that our ultimate reward is the joy of knowing we've done well in Your sight. Amen.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Lessons from the Laundry Room
Haphazardly, the belt was thrown on the counter. Irritated at the soccer clothes that should have gone to school, the socks in with the darks, the belt connected to the inside-out pants, I didn't notice at first.
An imperfect heart. A heart of gold at the core. That's my boy.
He's a lover of Jesus and a complete mess, just like his Momma.
And today I am thanking God for the reminder that I need to love, even when the love isn't returned, when it is imperfect, when I'm irritated, when I'm hurt.
Funny how a little school belt can accomplish all that in my own, less-than-perfect, heart.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Responsibility
Sitting at the conference, we knew what to expect. "He is performing here, but his ability is here."
I can practically paraphrase this conversation, for it has occurred, on average, twice per year for the past six years of school.
Teachers have told us our child is on a pathway to destruction.
Others have empathized, based on raising a child just like ours.
Some are impatient and clearly don't like our son.
Some figure puberty will knock this out of his system.
My witty comeback, said with laughter, a smile, a frown, a grimace, or a tear rolling down my cheek, depending on which teacher we are talking to, where I am emotionally, and how his grades are shaping up, goes something like this "If you can tell me HOW to bridge the gap between here and there, I'll gladly pay you a ton of money."
Nobody can tell us.
Nobody has the faintest clue.
Everybody wants us to be aware. Yet no one can offer advice.
We've tested for allergies and removed offending foods.
We've removed all dyes, preservatives, nitrates/nitrites, and gone practically 100% organic.
We've done expensive programs designed to create equity between the left and right brain hemispheres.
We've added vitamins and minerals and supplements galore.
We've medicated for ADHD.
We've prayed again and again and again.
Nothing changed.
New Years 2014 rolled around.
I stood at the doorway to another year and realized I wasn't going to try to lose weight, even though the scale clearly put me at a weight I didn't like, a weight that has historically made me so mad I started a quest to shed pounds. (Instead, I am choosing to be conscious about my choices and cut out sugar and diet drinks. Baby steps.)
I wasn't going to make some grandiose pronouncement about exercise. The dogs, I figured, could use a daily walk. The neighborhood streets would serve as my gym.
I wracked my brain for inspiration. "Never been good at resolutions", my brain shouted in response. But something told me I needed one; something that mattered. The bedroom shelves held my old love, books, and I immediately vowed to clear them off, making room for gifts that had yet to come and new purchases. Read one fiction and one non-fiction book per month; that was a worthwhile resolution.
I had promised a friend a re-read of The Metamorphosis (Kafka) to discover WHY I found so much hope in such a sad story; that was clearly my first fiction choice.
The non-fiction didn't prove so easy; at least twenty tomes begged to be read. None spoke to me. The one the author spoke about on the radio seemingly jumped out of a stack on the bedside table. It spoke of "youth entitlement" and "things your child should know before they leave the house".
That was the one: Cleaning House.
The first few pages made my stomach ache. I had tried so hard to be good to my kids but had, instead, made them entitled. From sun-up to sun-down, life had revolved around making their lives easier. But, as the book explained, making some one's life easier also sends the message "You aren't capable. You can't handle this so I'll do it for you."
All I ever wanted were kids who could do for themselves.
I wanted future daughters-in-law to praise me for sending them men who could cook, clean, wipe a baby's butt, and still be a man. In other words: be responsible.
Yet, it was clear I was raising boys to continue to act like boys, with no knowledge of how to wash clothes or dishes or put together a suitable meal.
That all changed one week ago today.
We bought alarm clocks. Don't get up in time? Late for school. Late too many times = detention. Detention = suspension from fun activities. Get up when the clock goes off!
We thoroughly cleaned and organized rooms and set expectations for them for every day of the week. If they do not meet those expectations? Pay the piper (literally).
We determined an appropriate time for leaving for school and church. If you aren't ready? You get left behind on the first trip out to door. We'll meet you around front and you can pay the "taxi". And, again, pay the piper (double what it costs to have a messy room).
We decided messy counter tops/sinks in the bathroom should be taken care of by the offender. We bought wipes and taught everyone how to use them and dispose of them.
We were sick to death of unbrushed teeth, unused soap and shampoo in the shower, and smelly boy pits. Equally as frustrating was not dressing to school uniform code; do it right or....you guessed it....pay the piper.
Now, it has only been one week, but so far only two dollars has been collected from all three boys (and that occurred today for being late for carpool). Our mornings are practically blissful. There are no arguments, no reminders, no nagging, no stress. Every single person in this house knows their chores and goes about doing them.
And, my son, who previously was having a hard time bridging that gap? Well, he stepped up to the plate at school yesterday, reporting something that he previously would have let go. He didn't ask my opinion, didn't ask for help, he just DID IT ON HIS OWN. And when I asked him how he felt? He said he was PROUD.
I'm not delusional enough to think this is the end-all-be-all, but I do think we are on to something here. Maybe common sense in parenting is right: every one should pitch in because they live under this roof. Age doesn't matter. Skill doesn't matter (most skills are learned, after all). Taking responsibility DOES matter.
Our next parent/teacher conference? I expect to hear some version of skill vs. output. After all, my son has a lazy streak as long as a football field. Yet this little experiment is proving that, if we just step away and let him take responsibility, in the end he'll get it done. The key is LETTING him, and not jumping in and sending the message that we parents can do it better/faster; we have to show him we are confident in him.
Next month we are tackling shopping, cooking, setting a table, and doing dishes.
I am confidently buying Pepto Bismol.
I can practically paraphrase this conversation, for it has occurred, on average, twice per year for the past six years of school.
Teachers have told us our child is on a pathway to destruction.
Others have empathized, based on raising a child just like ours.
Some are impatient and clearly don't like our son.
Some figure puberty will knock this out of his system.
My witty comeback, said with laughter, a smile, a frown, a grimace, or a tear rolling down my cheek, depending on which teacher we are talking to, where I am emotionally, and how his grades are shaping up, goes something like this "If you can tell me HOW to bridge the gap between here and there, I'll gladly pay you a ton of money."
Nobody can tell us.
Nobody has the faintest clue.
Everybody wants us to be aware. Yet no one can offer advice.
We've tested for allergies and removed offending foods.
We've removed all dyes, preservatives, nitrates/nitrites, and gone practically 100% organic.
We've done expensive programs designed to create equity between the left and right brain hemispheres.
We've added vitamins and minerals and supplements galore.
We've medicated for ADHD.
We've prayed again and again and again.
Nothing changed.
New Years 2014 rolled around.
I stood at the doorway to another year and realized I wasn't going to try to lose weight, even though the scale clearly put me at a weight I didn't like, a weight that has historically made me so mad I started a quest to shed pounds. (Instead, I am choosing to be conscious about my choices and cut out sugar and diet drinks. Baby steps.)
I wasn't going to make some grandiose pronouncement about exercise. The dogs, I figured, could use a daily walk. The neighborhood streets would serve as my gym.
I wracked my brain for inspiration. "Never been good at resolutions", my brain shouted in response. But something told me I needed one; something that mattered. The bedroom shelves held my old love, books, and I immediately vowed to clear them off, making room for gifts that had yet to come and new purchases. Read one fiction and one non-fiction book per month; that was a worthwhile resolution.
I had promised a friend a re-read of The Metamorphosis (Kafka) to discover WHY I found so much hope in such a sad story; that was clearly my first fiction choice.
The non-fiction didn't prove so easy; at least twenty tomes begged to be read. None spoke to me. The one the author spoke about on the radio seemingly jumped out of a stack on the bedside table. It spoke of "youth entitlement" and "things your child should know before they leave the house".
That was the one: Cleaning House.
The first few pages made my stomach ache. I had tried so hard to be good to my kids but had, instead, made them entitled. From sun-up to sun-down, life had revolved around making their lives easier. But, as the book explained, making some one's life easier also sends the message "You aren't capable. You can't handle this so I'll do it for you."
All I ever wanted were kids who could do for themselves.
I wanted future daughters-in-law to praise me for sending them men who could cook, clean, wipe a baby's butt, and still be a man. In other words: be responsible.
Yet, it was clear I was raising boys to continue to act like boys, with no knowledge of how to wash clothes or dishes or put together a suitable meal.
That all changed one week ago today.
We bought alarm clocks. Don't get up in time? Late for school. Late too many times = detention. Detention = suspension from fun activities. Get up when the clock goes off!
We thoroughly cleaned and organized rooms and set expectations for them for every day of the week. If they do not meet those expectations? Pay the piper (literally).
We determined an appropriate time for leaving for school and church. If you aren't ready? You get left behind on the first trip out to door. We'll meet you around front and you can pay the "taxi". And, again, pay the piper (double what it costs to have a messy room).
We decided messy counter tops/sinks in the bathroom should be taken care of by the offender. We bought wipes and taught everyone how to use them and dispose of them.
We were sick to death of unbrushed teeth, unused soap and shampoo in the shower, and smelly boy pits. Equally as frustrating was not dressing to school uniform code; do it right or....you guessed it....pay the piper.
Now, it has only been one week, but so far only two dollars has been collected from all three boys (and that occurred today for being late for carpool). Our mornings are practically blissful. There are no arguments, no reminders, no nagging, no stress. Every single person in this house knows their chores and goes about doing them.
And, my son, who previously was having a hard time bridging that gap? Well, he stepped up to the plate at school yesterday, reporting something that he previously would have let go. He didn't ask my opinion, didn't ask for help, he just DID IT ON HIS OWN. And when I asked him how he felt? He said he was PROUD.
I'm not delusional enough to think this is the end-all-be-all, but I do think we are on to something here. Maybe common sense in parenting is right: every one should pitch in because they live under this roof. Age doesn't matter. Skill doesn't matter (most skills are learned, after all). Taking responsibility DOES matter.
Our next parent/teacher conference? I expect to hear some version of skill vs. output. After all, my son has a lazy streak as long as a football field. Yet this little experiment is proving that, if we just step away and let him take responsibility, in the end he'll get it done. The key is LETTING him, and not jumping in and sending the message that we parents can do it better/faster; we have to show him we are confident in him.
Next month we are tackling shopping, cooking, setting a table, and doing dishes.
I am confidently buying Pepto Bismol.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Love is the Answer
What if love really is the reason?
What if we stopped judging and just loved?
What if we accepted ourselves and others with a deep love that transcended sin and hate and intolerance?
These are questions running through my mind lately.
It seems there are plenty of people who are willing to convict us of our own sin. They willingly stand, plank in eye, and point out the splinter in ours. They speak of us behind our backs, in hushed tones and prayer requests, throwing the weight of their self-righteousness around.
I'm tired of those people.
I am ready to love them as though they didn't act that way, though.
I'm ready to listen to their hurts and pain and needs.
And reassure them that it will all be OK.
Too many times those who hurt the most are the most hurtful.
It is easy to get caught on that Tilt-O-Whirl.
It is much harder to unbuckle and know that gravity is going to throw you, HARD, onto a new path, one that might be even harder than the painful path you are on.
It takes courage to decide to step off, mid-ride, and let life take you where it will, simply because you are tired of being hurt and hurting others and generally being disagreeable.
You have to want the change, though.
Nobody can create that desire in you.
Only you can decide that change is better than stagnancy.
No amount of someone else WANTING you to change will create anything lasting or meaningful. At best, change borne out of shame or guilt or posturing is temporary and meaningless.
If love really is the way, it isn't always going to be an easy walk. Just like a life of hate, there will be potholes in the road.
But, instead of the glass being half-full and people being assholes and life being unfair, the perspective will change.
It won't be the world against you, it will be you against the world. With, if you choose, God as your sidekick.
He believes this whole love thing.
He created this whole love thing.
He asks us to embrace and embody this whole love thing.
Is it time we all get on board?
What if we stopped judging and just loved?
What if we accepted ourselves and others with a deep love that transcended sin and hate and intolerance?
These are questions running through my mind lately.
It seems there are plenty of people who are willing to convict us of our own sin. They willingly stand, plank in eye, and point out the splinter in ours. They speak of us behind our backs, in hushed tones and prayer requests, throwing the weight of their self-righteousness around.
I'm tired of those people.
I am ready to love them as though they didn't act that way, though.
I'm ready to listen to their hurts and pain and needs.
And reassure them that it will all be OK.
Too many times those who hurt the most are the most hurtful.
It is easy to get caught on that Tilt-O-Whirl.
It is much harder to unbuckle and know that gravity is going to throw you, HARD, onto a new path, one that might be even harder than the painful path you are on.
It takes courage to decide to step off, mid-ride, and let life take you where it will, simply because you are tired of being hurt and hurting others and generally being disagreeable.
You have to want the change, though.
Nobody can create that desire in you.
Only you can decide that change is better than stagnancy.
No amount of someone else WANTING you to change will create anything lasting or meaningful. At best, change borne out of shame or guilt or posturing is temporary and meaningless.
If love really is the way, it isn't always going to be an easy walk. Just like a life of hate, there will be potholes in the road.
But, instead of the glass being half-full and people being assholes and life being unfair, the perspective will change.
It won't be the world against you, it will be you against the world. With, if you choose, God as your sidekick.
He believes this whole love thing.
He created this whole love thing.
He asks us to embrace and embody this whole love thing.
Is it time we all get on board?
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Anchor
Of all the lessons Kelly Minter taught me last weekend, I think the visual of God as an anchor will stick with me the longest.
In Hebrews 6:19 we read "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." Kelly led us to visualize an anchor, thrown over the edge, deep below a boat. That anchor serves to allow the boat to remain in one spot but, simultaneously, float freely and not be tethered too tightly.
This is what God does for us: He anchors us, so we are free to rest without worrying about the wind and the waves. He anchors us, but with just enough tension that we can move around in confidence, yet move of our own accord (the Baptist in me calls this "free will"). His anchor is like a rocking cradle: it is soothing, reassuring, and comforting.
I praise the Lord for giving Kelly this verse to share with us. I praise Him for never pulling up His anchor on me and for giving me short and long lines of rope along the way. I praise Him for being a God who helps us know we need an anchor.
In the words of the amazing Chris Tomlin song:
There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"
It is well, indeed. Thanks be to God!
In Hebrews 6:19 we read "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." Kelly led us to visualize an anchor, thrown over the edge, deep below a boat. That anchor serves to allow the boat to remain in one spot but, simultaneously, float freely and not be tethered too tightly.
This is what God does for us: He anchors us, so we are free to rest without worrying about the wind and the waves. He anchors us, but with just enough tension that we can move around in confidence, yet move of our own accord (the Baptist in me calls this "free will"). His anchor is like a rocking cradle: it is soothing, reassuring, and comforting.
I praise the Lord for giving Kelly this verse to share with us. I praise Him for never pulling up His anchor on me and for giving me short and long lines of rope along the way. I praise Him for being a God who helps us know we need an anchor.
In the words of the amazing Chris Tomlin song:
There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"
It is well, indeed. Thanks be to God!
Friday, October 11, 2013
Attack
We looked at each other across the office. "I feel like we are under attack."
"We are." I acknowledged.
++
These past two weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions. We removed our son from a school we love to pursue an education for him at a school we know is a better fit. There were tears and kind words and prayers and "we'll miss you" as we walked away. There were open arms and welcomes back and smiles and hugs as we walked in. On balance, all good, yet emotionally tough.
We finally acknowledged our beloved Bob cat had lost weight and seemed to be throwing up hairballs more often than not. Blood tests and long conversations about kitty diabetes and the possibility of the death sentence of kidney disease ensued. Dinnertime brought about the "what if" conversations no one had answers for; there were tears. Greatly affected by the thought of death for the first time in his life, The Babe insisted that Bob sleep with him. Being the loving soul he is, Bob did just that, under the warmth of a red blanket with white hearts. We await test results.
Phone calls from her are regular. Test results from her Dad's lungs, now showing tumors, are not. Her voice was flat. She was numb. I understood but words failed me. Prayers, in the moment, were forgotten. The call ended and I had failed. All that suffering I had been through, not put to good use. I prayed in that moment for her Dad, for her, for her family. I silently wept. This is not how we want to say goodbye to our parents. I pray pending test results come soon.
The letter came unexpectedly. 2010 taxes were wrong. There were penalties. There were fees. There were back taxes. A quick glance at returns indicated the error to be on their side. Yet this is the IRS, with all the backlogs and endless wait times and bureaucracy. Forms have been sent; appropriate defenders of our return contacted. Yet again, we wait.
++
"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge." Psalm 62:5-8
++
I am so imperfect. I lack so much faith when the dark clouds roll in. If I am not careful, I am pulled into the abyss of my life and feel overcome.
I cling to the Psalm. I pray. I cry. I pray again. I find peace and lose it in the same moment.
"Get behind me Satan" becomes my battle cry.
I grab the Armor of God and strap it on.
For the moment.
For the hour.
For the morning and afternoon and evening.
Only for today. Today is all I have to handle. Tomorrow has its own worries; I will leave them there.
Yesterday I was being crushed by a rock. Today, I am in the cleft of the rock.
Thank you, Lord.
"We are." I acknowledged.
++
These past two weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions. We removed our son from a school we love to pursue an education for him at a school we know is a better fit. There were tears and kind words and prayers and "we'll miss you" as we walked away. There were open arms and welcomes back and smiles and hugs as we walked in. On balance, all good, yet emotionally tough.
We finally acknowledged our beloved Bob cat had lost weight and seemed to be throwing up hairballs more often than not. Blood tests and long conversations about kitty diabetes and the possibility of the death sentence of kidney disease ensued. Dinnertime brought about the "what if" conversations no one had answers for; there were tears. Greatly affected by the thought of death for the first time in his life, The Babe insisted that Bob sleep with him. Being the loving soul he is, Bob did just that, under the warmth of a red blanket with white hearts. We await test results.
Phone calls from her are regular. Test results from her Dad's lungs, now showing tumors, are not. Her voice was flat. She was numb. I understood but words failed me. Prayers, in the moment, were forgotten. The call ended and I had failed. All that suffering I had been through, not put to good use. I prayed in that moment for her Dad, for her, for her family. I silently wept. This is not how we want to say goodbye to our parents. I pray pending test results come soon.
The letter came unexpectedly. 2010 taxes were wrong. There were penalties. There were fees. There were back taxes. A quick glance at returns indicated the error to be on their side. Yet this is the IRS, with all the backlogs and endless wait times and bureaucracy. Forms have been sent; appropriate defenders of our return contacted. Yet again, we wait.
++
"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge." Psalm 62:5-8
++
I am so imperfect. I lack so much faith when the dark clouds roll in. If I am not careful, I am pulled into the abyss of my life and feel overcome.
I cling to the Psalm. I pray. I cry. I pray again. I find peace and lose it in the same moment.
"Get behind me Satan" becomes my battle cry.
I grab the Armor of God and strap it on.
For the moment.
For the hour.
For the morning and afternoon and evening.
Only for today. Today is all I have to handle. Tomorrow has its own worries; I will leave them there.
Yesterday I was being crushed by a rock. Today, I am in the cleft of the rock.
Thank you, Lord.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Anger
I had never thought of anger as a "...charged, morally neutral, emotional response of protective preservation" until reading a book by pastor Chip Ingram. This statement was such a revelation to me that I had to read the sentence over and over again until I could ingest it. Then, I had to read it to Mike to see if he had the same "Wow" reaction (He did).
My understanding of anger came from years of watching people around me. The following were understood in my brain:
Anger is loud.
Anger is frequent.
Anger doesn't deal with emotion, it stuffs it.
Anger is negative.
Anger is scary and menacing.
Anger reminds you later of why it was angry to begin with.
Anger is passive.
Anger is aggressive.
Anger blames those around it.
Anger doesn't go away easily; it hangs around indefinitely because it never gets resolved.
Anger loosely apologizes but it never asks for forgiveness.
Anger is bad.
The book Overcoming Emotions That Destroy: Practical Help for Those Angry Feelings That Ruin Relationships came to me late in life, almost by mistake. I had listened to Pastor Ingram speaking on the radio and he mentioned this book, one he had just finished writing. I jotted the gist of the title on a scrap of paper, so it wouldn't flee my brain. And then that piece of paper floated away, the way smallish scraps like to, into a very deep debris pile.
A couple of years later, I ran across that reminder and immediately ordered the book. I became engrossed almost from the first page; it was like reading about the years in my life I wasted being trapped by my angry, unproductive responses.
I had no concept that the Bible allows for anger (even Jesus got angry, for heaven's sake!) but, not for the sin that comes out of anger.
I had no idea how much unresolved anger was trapped inside of me.
I had no clue that the busy life I had created was actually causing me to feel out-of-control and that my means of controlling the chaos often was anger.
Every chapter contained closing questions that forced me to think about my life and how anger played a role in it. I left every chapter feeling I'd had an "AH HA!" moment that, for the first time in my life, was ushering me towards being able to use my anger in productive ways. I felt I was going to be able to claim victory over the beast that had ridden shotgun with me all my life.
An unintended consequence of examining my own anger was now understanding other people and their anger as well. I could finally see those who were passive-aggressive, who stuffed their emotions, who spewed their hatred all over other people. Yet, it was though I was simultaneously blind; until those whose anger was misplaced, inappropriately used, self-damaging, relationship-splitting could see it for themselves, it was of no use that I could point it out to them. So, I didn't. I started praying for them, instead.
God has demonstrated to me, over and over again, that forgiveness and love are supreme. When I am able to focus on those qualities, I am a better person. I can walk in His counsel and accomplish the goals He set before me because my frame of reference is right.
Satan, on the other hand, has tried to counsel me that vengeance is mine and I am unlovable. When I focus on those qualities, I got angry; I stay angry at others and redirect the anger within myself onto others. I walk away from, instead of toward, God; I get stuck in the mire of hatred and self-loathing that Satan is happy to continuously distill in me.
I haven't read much in the past year or two, but this book managed to get read cover-to-cover during a time when life could have been all about anger and hatred. I can only credit God for putting this book in my hands, at the very right time (a time when I would FINALLY GET IT), and leading me gently down the path of understanding my own anger, asking for forgiveness, and accepting Christ's very generous gift of forgiveness for myself.
Thanks be to a God who can accomplish all that in the life of a very lowly sinner.
My understanding of anger came from years of watching people around me. The following were understood in my brain:
Anger is loud.
Anger is frequent.
Anger doesn't deal with emotion, it stuffs it.
Anger is negative.
Anger is scary and menacing.
Anger reminds you later of why it was angry to begin with.
Anger is passive.
Anger is aggressive.
Anger blames those around it.
Anger doesn't go away easily; it hangs around indefinitely because it never gets resolved.
Anger loosely apologizes but it never asks for forgiveness.
Anger is bad.
The book Overcoming Emotions That Destroy: Practical Help for Those Angry Feelings That Ruin Relationships came to me late in life, almost by mistake. I had listened to Pastor Ingram speaking on the radio and he mentioned this book, one he had just finished writing. I jotted the gist of the title on a scrap of paper, so it wouldn't flee my brain. And then that piece of paper floated away, the way smallish scraps like to, into a very deep debris pile.
A couple of years later, I ran across that reminder and immediately ordered the book. I became engrossed almost from the first page; it was like reading about the years in my life I wasted being trapped by my angry, unproductive responses.
I had no concept that the Bible allows for anger (even Jesus got angry, for heaven's sake!) but, not for the sin that comes out of anger.
I had no idea how much unresolved anger was trapped inside of me.
I had no clue that the busy life I had created was actually causing me to feel out-of-control and that my means of controlling the chaos often was anger.
Every chapter contained closing questions that forced me to think about my life and how anger played a role in it. I left every chapter feeling I'd had an "AH HA!" moment that, for the first time in my life, was ushering me towards being able to use my anger in productive ways. I felt I was going to be able to claim victory over the beast that had ridden shotgun with me all my life.
An unintended consequence of examining my own anger was now understanding other people and their anger as well. I could finally see those who were passive-aggressive, who stuffed their emotions, who spewed their hatred all over other people. Yet, it was though I was simultaneously blind; until those whose anger was misplaced, inappropriately used, self-damaging, relationship-splitting could see it for themselves, it was of no use that I could point it out to them. So, I didn't. I started praying for them, instead.
God has demonstrated to me, over and over again, that forgiveness and love are supreme. When I am able to focus on those qualities, I am a better person. I can walk in His counsel and accomplish the goals He set before me because my frame of reference is right.
Satan, on the other hand, has tried to counsel me that vengeance is mine and I am unlovable. When I focus on those qualities, I got angry; I stay angry at others and redirect the anger within myself onto others. I walk away from, instead of toward, God; I get stuck in the mire of hatred and self-loathing that Satan is happy to continuously distill in me.
I haven't read much in the past year or two, but this book managed to get read cover-to-cover during a time when life could have been all about anger and hatred. I can only credit God for putting this book in my hands, at the very right time (a time when I would FINALLY GET IT), and leading me gently down the path of understanding my own anger, asking for forgiveness, and accepting Christ's very generous gift of forgiveness for myself.
Thanks be to a God who can accomplish all that in the life of a very lowly sinner.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Can't leave September without spinning this on the good, old vinyl
It may be 35 years old this fall, but this hit is just timeless. And, it reminds us all that not everything that came out of the era of disco is pathetic.
Crank it up and dance!!!!
Crank it up and dance!!!!
Saturday, September 28, 2013
When Harry Met Christ
If you have known me for more than a few weeks and we've ever had a conversation about movies, you'll know that it is no secret that I can quote lines from when "When Harry Met Sally". Above almost every other movie on this planet, the dialogue, storyline, and quirky romance speak to me.
The line that always leaves me teary-eyed, no matter how many times I re-watch it, is one of the last from the movie, when Harry declares his love for Sally:
"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
What gets me about these lines is the intimacy they convey. Harry has paid such close attention to Sally that he understands things about her that would drive other people crazy. He has looked at her so intentionally that he recognizes her facial expressions. He knows what he wants, and Harry wants Sally, with all her faults and oddities.
Most women look for a man who will look at her like this; who will see the good, the bad, and the ugly in her and still say "She is the one". That's the stuff of romance.
What's not the stuff of romance, but is the stuff of reality, is that Christ looks at us this very same way. He know our bodies so intimately that he knew them from before they were being formed; He knows the number of hairs on our heads and the number of freckles on our face.
He knows our like and dislikes. Every.single.one.of.them.
He can read our body language and mannerisms and responses before we even have a clue what we were thinking, feeling, or projecting.
He dearly loves to walk alongside us and commune with us on a daily basis, but He is also the ultimate gentleman, allowing us to decide when we will ask Him along on our journey. He loves to talk with us more than anything in the world, if we'll stop our busy lives to involve Him.
He's never lonely, but he longs for us. Time is unimportant on his eternal calendar, yet He knows the number of our days and conspires with us to help us live them for Him.
Mostly He wants us to accept Him by saying "YES!". He wants to build us a Heavenly home and live with Him eternally. He wants our forever with Him to start as soon as possible.
Romantic guy, isn't He, our Christ?
The line that always leaves me teary-eyed, no matter how many times I re-watch it, is one of the last from the movie, when Harry declares his love for Sally:
"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
What gets me about these lines is the intimacy they convey. Harry has paid such close attention to Sally that he understands things about her that would drive other people crazy. He has looked at her so intentionally that he recognizes her facial expressions. He knows what he wants, and Harry wants Sally, with all her faults and oddities.
Most women look for a man who will look at her like this; who will see the good, the bad, and the ugly in her and still say "She is the one". That's the stuff of romance.
What's not the stuff of romance, but is the stuff of reality, is that Christ looks at us this very same way. He know our bodies so intimately that he knew them from before they were being formed; He knows the number of hairs on our heads and the number of freckles on our face.
He knows our like and dislikes. Every.single.one.of.them.
He can read our body language and mannerisms and responses before we even have a clue what we were thinking, feeling, or projecting.
He dearly loves to walk alongside us and commune with us on a daily basis, but He is also the ultimate gentleman, allowing us to decide when we will ask Him along on our journey. He loves to talk with us more than anything in the world, if we'll stop our busy lives to involve Him.
He's never lonely, but he longs for us. Time is unimportant on his eternal calendar, yet He knows the number of our days and conspires with us to help us live them for Him.
Mostly He wants us to accept Him by saying "YES!". He wants to build us a Heavenly home and live with Him eternally. He wants our forever with Him to start as soon as possible.
Romantic guy, isn't He, our Christ?
Monday, September 23, 2013
Life
Hello my dear friend,
MUCH LOVE ALWAYS!!!!
This popped into my inbox on November 10, 2012. On November 12, I responded back, with a simple offer of a listening ear, if one was ever needed. On November 13th, my friend was home in Heaven, unbeknownst to me.
It wasn't an auto accident or a suicide attempt or the MS that had ravaged her body that caused her death. It was a tiny pimple on the inside of her leg, filled with poison that traveled into her blood after she innocently burst the nodule, looking for relief from the pain.
James (4:14) says "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." I reflected on my sketchy recollection of this verse as I walked a beach on the Gulf of Mexico this weekend. The enormity of the water, the vastness of the horizon, that stretch of sand made me feel very small. It made me realize the little part I will play in this world during my tenure here. It made me realize that, in just a few years, my friend's journey will be but a sketchy memory for most who knew her.
I thought of our times laughing together when we were single. Of her excitement when Mike and I started dating, of our shared love of ribbing him. Of our time together several years ago, when we stopped to visit with her and she entered the room looking as beautiful as she always had been, with a smile as wide as the beach I stood on, pushing the necessary walker as she came across the room. I fought back tears in that moment, tears for all she had lost. I fought back tears for being so weak in my faith, while she was so incredibly, unfathomably strong.
My friend knew in those last days that she was going home. She was at peace. She told her Mother that she and God had a deal that He would come get her before she had to permanently be in a wheelchair. The night He delivered her, she was precariously close to that point. But, He was faithful.
*******************************************************
The holidays of 2012 were a blur of unfinished projects and bags that needed packing. My usual Christmas cards, for the first time in many years, were never sent. The pictures of the Nowell five, all 100 of them, never left their developing envelope. The Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus stamps lay unused. There was no "undeliverable to address" stamp on a returned envelope to signal that something was amiss.
And then, in a blink, it was January. A new year. A fresh start. A short list of birthdays to acknowledge but a long list of to-dos to complete. I fired off an email, sending my best wishes and hopes for a great year, with prayers and hugs and kisses, too. I didn't notice, because life was a blur, that there wasn't the typical "thank you for thinking of me" response.
And a couple of months later, the phone rang in the middle of the day. It was Joyce, my friend's Mother. My birthday wishes had been opened, once passwords had been pried from the mail provider's lists. And Joyce realized I.didn't.know. She was sorry she hadn't called earlier, but she just couldn't.
There we were, the Mother Joyce having lost her daughter, talking to the daughter who had recently lost her Mother Joyce; irony from the start. It was a beautiful end to a beautiful life, she said. We had been faithful friends through the years. She loved the pictures and little gifts I would send. She was blessed to have known us. She would send a package with funeral information, now almost six months old. We cried and tried to talk through our tears. There was little left to say. It was done.
*********************************************************
I want to heed the Psalmist's plea "Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom." I want to be wise to the things that matter most in this life. I want to strip my life of the unnecessary and fleeting and worthless. I want to live a life that pleases God so much that I can feel it.
Today I wrote a very long overdue letter; a letter of apology, asking for forgiveness. I intend to print it out and read it to its recipient. It will take me three times longer to read it than it would if I just handed it over, but it is important that my brokenness be seen. It is important that I choke up over my past actions. It is imperative that I do this right.
You see, I've come to understand the brevity of life. I've come to see that I am a vapor. I only live and move and breathe because of a great God who knows not only the number of hairs on my head, but also the number of my days. And, because I am not privy to that information, I have to live today as though it is the last. So, I won't tarry in delivering this note and tearfully exchanging its meaning with the one who deserves it.
My friend's life taught me so many things about searching for beauty in tragedy and finding God in the little things and keeping the faith through adversity.
But, maybe most importantly, her life taught me this sense of urgency. This desire to go and heal, even when I'm fearful and worried and hesitant.
Thank you, Robin. You are missed.
So much has happened to me that I do NOT know where to begin, and don't care too. 
All I want to say is PLEASE keep me in your prayers. I hope and pray You and your 4 boys are well. Tell all BIG hello for me.
All I want to say is PLEASE keep me in your prayers. I hope and pray You and your 4 boys are well. Tell all BIG hello for me. This popped into my inbox on November 10, 2012. On November 12, I responded back, with a simple offer of a listening ear, if one was ever needed. On November 13th, my friend was home in Heaven, unbeknownst to me.
It wasn't an auto accident or a suicide attempt or the MS that had ravaged her body that caused her death. It was a tiny pimple on the inside of her leg, filled with poison that traveled into her blood after she innocently burst the nodule, looking for relief from the pain.
James (4:14) says "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." I reflected on my sketchy recollection of this verse as I walked a beach on the Gulf of Mexico this weekend. The enormity of the water, the vastness of the horizon, that stretch of sand made me feel very small. It made me realize the little part I will play in this world during my tenure here. It made me realize that, in just a few years, my friend's journey will be but a sketchy memory for most who knew her.
I thought of our times laughing together when we were single. Of her excitement when Mike and I started dating, of our shared love of ribbing him. Of our time together several years ago, when we stopped to visit with her and she entered the room looking as beautiful as she always had been, with a smile as wide as the beach I stood on, pushing the necessary walker as she came across the room. I fought back tears in that moment, tears for all she had lost. I fought back tears for being so weak in my faith, while she was so incredibly, unfathomably strong.
My friend knew in those last days that she was going home. She was at peace. She told her Mother that she and God had a deal that He would come get her before she had to permanently be in a wheelchair. The night He delivered her, she was precariously close to that point. But, He was faithful.
*******************************************************
The holidays of 2012 were a blur of unfinished projects and bags that needed packing. My usual Christmas cards, for the first time in many years, were never sent. The pictures of the Nowell five, all 100 of them, never left their developing envelope. The Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus stamps lay unused. There was no "undeliverable to address" stamp on a returned envelope to signal that something was amiss.
And then, in a blink, it was January. A new year. A fresh start. A short list of birthdays to acknowledge but a long list of to-dos to complete. I fired off an email, sending my best wishes and hopes for a great year, with prayers and hugs and kisses, too. I didn't notice, because life was a blur, that there wasn't the typical "thank you for thinking of me" response.
And a couple of months later, the phone rang in the middle of the day. It was Joyce, my friend's Mother. My birthday wishes had been opened, once passwords had been pried from the mail provider's lists. And Joyce realized I.didn't.know. She was sorry she hadn't called earlier, but she just couldn't.
There we were, the Mother Joyce having lost her daughter, talking to the daughter who had recently lost her Mother Joyce; irony from the start. It was a beautiful end to a beautiful life, she said. We had been faithful friends through the years. She loved the pictures and little gifts I would send. She was blessed to have known us. She would send a package with funeral information, now almost six months old. We cried and tried to talk through our tears. There was little left to say. It was done.
*********************************************************
I want to heed the Psalmist's plea "Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom." I want to be wise to the things that matter most in this life. I want to strip my life of the unnecessary and fleeting and worthless. I want to live a life that pleases God so much that I can feel it.
Today I wrote a very long overdue letter; a letter of apology, asking for forgiveness. I intend to print it out and read it to its recipient. It will take me three times longer to read it than it would if I just handed it over, but it is important that my brokenness be seen. It is important that I choke up over my past actions. It is imperative that I do this right.
You see, I've come to understand the brevity of life. I've come to see that I am a vapor. I only live and move and breathe because of a great God who knows not only the number of hairs on my head, but also the number of my days. And, because I am not privy to that information, I have to live today as though it is the last. So, I won't tarry in delivering this note and tearfully exchanging its meaning with the one who deserves it.
My friend's life taught me so many things about searching for beauty in tragedy and finding God in the little things and keeping the faith through adversity.
But, maybe most importantly, her life taught me this sense of urgency. This desire to go and heal, even when I'm fearful and worried and hesitant.
Thank you, Robin. You are missed.
Monday, September 16, 2013
No Money-Back Guarantee, Just a Good Old-Fashioned Lesson
Recently, we (not the royal we, but the hubby and I, collectively) gave a gift to a friend who really seemed to be in a tough spot.
When I saw the opportunity to bless this person as I went through our calendar and budget, I didn't hesitate to ask Mike what he thought. He admitted he had thought the same thing. And so, as usual, when we find ourselves on the same page regarding an issue, we move forward.
In case you missed it, I used the word "gift" about this transaction, which should translate "something given voluntarily without payment in return". But, because Facebook exists and I can see what this person is doing, day in and day out (sometimes hour by hour...), I can also see that the situation we viewed as dire was, in fact, not so. It seems that friend is out on the town many times per month, doing things we Nowells have deemed "outside of the budget" for us as a couple/family.
Honestly, this last dinner to event just about threw me over the edge. The budget I have for my entire family, for the entire month of September, probably couldn't have covered this one couples-only evening, much less the many events I had already seen throughout the month. I'll admit it: I got angry.
Angry because I felt, in some small way, that I had given to someone who didn't really have a need but accepted the gift anyway. I felt jealous that "proper" dates, where Mike and I dress up and go out just as a couple, seem to have gotten swallowed up by life. Honestly, I wanted my money back.
And this is where the reality hit me. This is where I had to stare the ugly truth in the face: sometimes I just don't give freely.
When I hand a dollar to the beggar on the street, I pray he will use it well and that he won't end up with a can in a paper bag with my money. But, I give anyway.
When I write a check to a charity I trust and send it off, I pray the CEO won't abuse his/her privilege and that the greatest portion of the money will go to the work the charity supports. I wonder about this sometimes, but I give anyway.
When I donate to the church, I pray that the vestry and clergy will find the best place to spend the money and that they spend in a way that preserves as much of the contribution as possible for the budget line that reads "missions". But, I don't give it as much as a second thought most days, and I give anyway.
Somehow, I can easily give to those I won't see again or I'll likely never meet in person or those who have to be accountable for my gift. But, to those I'm closest? Those who I'll see in person and follow on Facebook and talk to on the phone? Those who have no responsibility to account for the gift or tell me whether or not they loved it? That is so much harder.
When I look myself in the mirror on this issue, I'm frankly ashamed. The blessings I have in this life are ridiculous. They are over-the-top. They are so above what I need or could have dreamed or expected. And every last one of them is a gift.
My whole life is a gift.
And I have the nerve to whine over a paltry few dollars that I am able to give?
Shame.on.me.
The ultimate gift was given to me when Christ died for me. He knew, going in, that I could choose to walk away from Him. He knew I could decide His gift wasn't enough. He knew I could reject Him for eternity. Yet, still, He gave freely.
May God give me a heart to do the same.
And, may He forgive me for my selfishness, jealousy, and judgmental attitude as well.
Amen.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Mrs. Jonas
I discovered, sitting at a Jonas Brothers' concert of all places, that adolescence is the longest suspension of reality in our entire lives.
I watched one particular teenage girl who was screaming to the point of hysteria when Nick Jonas mentioned her home state, as if he was going to move into her parent's home in Texas tomorrow.
Watching her catapulted me back to a time when I WAS that girl, totally convinced that purple-socked, Mormon-to-the-core, much-older-than-me, Donny Osmond was going to come galloping in on a white horse to carry me away forever, as Mrs. Osmond. Imagine my shock and dismay when Donny married another Mormon and lived happily ever after.
Sadly, this young lady will be equally disappointed at some time in her life when Nick marries someone else. But, for now, and for the foreseeable future, until he becomes "so yesterday" and she moves on to other heartthrobs, Nick is THE ONE. And there is nothing, no one, nada, that will convince her otherwise.
It got me thinking that teenagers are just altogether another breed of human being. They are a mix of pent up hormones with nowhere productive to release. They are into single digits, such as "me", "myself" and "I". They know nothing beyond the mirror in front of them.
They can simultaneously believe that they can conquer the world while holding their favorite wubby from childhood. They are "fierce" and "ferocious" while being completely insecure. They call attention to themselves only to find the embarrassment too great to handle.
In a nutshell, they are able to live in reality without being in touch with it. They are in an Alice-in-Wonderland sort of world, with strange creatures of the opposite sex changing from completely repulsive to irresistible. They see their own body's changing yet can't make the jump that their parents had to have gone through the same change to look the way they do. They believe just about anything, plausible or no, that someone within three years of their age says, yet question every minor detail of a request made by someone with experience, education, and wisdom many times over that of a pimply-faced teen.
And this painful process takes between two and five years. No wonder so many of our kids feel like it will never end! It is like having your head stuck in a toilet bowl over and over and over again but not understanding that you are going to get angry and wet every.single.time.
I surely hope that sweet girl wakes up and realizes that the future Mrs. Nick Jonas isn't going to have a life of complete happiness and joy and laughter. She is going to have a marriage, with all its happy, sad, boring, uplifting moments, not unlike the marriage sweet girl will likely encounter with some unknown, less-than-millionaire, non-rocker.
Because, in the end, we learn to un-suspend reality and live in the real world, with all of life's ups-and-downs and ins-and-outs and births-and-deaths.
To quote Grandma from the movie "Parenthood":
Of all these lessons, I pray you learn the last one during your teen years. The others can wait, but Jesus needs you to understand where HE stands in your life today and for the rest of puberty and for the rest of your life.
Won't you suspend your "reality" for a moment to consider His?
I watched one particular teenage girl who was screaming to the point of hysteria when Nick Jonas mentioned her home state, as if he was going to move into her parent's home in Texas tomorrow.
Watching her catapulted me back to a time when I WAS that girl, totally convinced that purple-socked, Mormon-to-the-core, much-older-than-me, Donny Osmond was going to come galloping in on a white horse to carry me away forever, as Mrs. Osmond. Imagine my shock and dismay when Donny married another Mormon and lived happily ever after.
Sadly, this young lady will be equally disappointed at some time in her life when Nick marries someone else. But, for now, and for the foreseeable future, until he becomes "so yesterday" and she moves on to other heartthrobs, Nick is THE ONE. And there is nothing, no one, nada, that will convince her otherwise.
It got me thinking that teenagers are just altogether another breed of human being. They are a mix of pent up hormones with nowhere productive to release. They are into single digits, such as "me", "myself" and "I". They know nothing beyond the mirror in front of them.
They can simultaneously believe that they can conquer the world while holding their favorite wubby from childhood. They are "fierce" and "ferocious" while being completely insecure. They call attention to themselves only to find the embarrassment too great to handle.
In a nutshell, they are able to live in reality without being in touch with it. They are in an Alice-in-Wonderland sort of world, with strange creatures of the opposite sex changing from completely repulsive to irresistible. They see their own body's changing yet can't make the jump that their parents had to have gone through the same change to look the way they do. They believe just about anything, plausible or no, that someone within three years of their age says, yet question every minor detail of a request made by someone with experience, education, and wisdom many times over that of a pimply-faced teen.
And this painful process takes between two and five years. No wonder so many of our kids feel like it will never end! It is like having your head stuck in a toilet bowl over and over and over again but not understanding that you are going to get angry and wet every.single.time.
I surely hope that sweet girl wakes up and realizes that the future Mrs. Nick Jonas isn't going to have a life of complete happiness and joy and laughter. She is going to have a marriage, with all its happy, sad, boring, uplifting moments, not unlike the marriage sweet girl will likely encounter with some unknown, less-than-millionaire, non-rocker.
Because, in the end, we learn to un-suspend reality and live in the real world, with all of life's ups-and-downs and ins-and-outs and births-and-deaths.
To quote Grandma from the movie "Parenthood":
"You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster. Up, down, up, down.
Oh, what a ride! I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me
that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled
all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around.
Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."
Here is to all the teens in my life, God bless you: may you all
look back on the adventure of these next few years and realize the
roller coaster you were on made your life more, even when you were convinced that your parents were forcing you to ride a merry-go-round that did absolutely, positively nothing. May you recognize that, while your body grew, your mind often lagged behind and that, oftentimes, your parents WERE right. And, finally, may you realize that God held your darling little hand through all of this. He even sent his precious son through puberty so he could understand your struggles, as someone who not only knows your pain, but has been through it and survived it as well.Of all these lessons, I pray you learn the last one during your teen years. The others can wait, but Jesus needs you to understand where HE stands in your life today and for the rest of puberty and for the rest of your life.
Won't you suspend your "reality" for a moment to consider His?
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
School, Where Art Thou?
How do I know it is time to send my kids back-to-school?
When I ask my husband to go get a bottle of wine and I make chocolate chip cookies. That's when.
Turns out I'm getting no cooperation from either the calendar OR the wine OR the cookies.
We've hit the dog days of summer. Hot, humid, and frankly reason for traveling to other states that don't understand why air conditioning is essential to human life. My kids are responding to the heat with "OHMYGOSHYOUARERUININGMYLIFEBYNOTLETTINGMEGOPLAYRIGHTTHISMINUTE" despite the fact that pigs have inquired about moving into their rooms, there is a funky smell coming from somewhere in the house and it is a moving target (can you say "time for a shower/deodorant"), and they have been playing ALL SUMMER LONG.
The wine (white, thanks for asking) was warm. Not suitable for drinking when it was purchased at 8:15p.m. last night, yet surprisingly appealing as a breakfast drink this morning; I am holding myself back from popping the cork as I type this at 10:15.
In lieu of the wine, I decided to have one of the cookies, praying that eating it after 9p.m. would not render it another pothole on the side of my thigh. The cookies were mega-sized. I baked five of them, one each for every member of the house. Problem was, I have a greedy child who thought that extra cookie was baked for him, didn't ask if it was indeed for him, and who kept on claiming innocence in the face of a cop-style grilling due to obvious evidence to the contrary.
At 10p.m. last night I pronounced bedtime as the only sane remedy for keeping my head from flying off my body.
In the midst of all this mayhem, I might have called my kid an "asshole" to his face. He might have deserved it. I might have had to ask for a giant can of forgiveness afterwards, too.
This morning, things haven't gotten much better. I was told I didn't know how to navigate, was a horrible Mom for not letting a son change plans on a dime, and that I couldn't cook a decent breakfast.
But, the good news is that I have this all in perspective.
Some time ago I realized that God prepares us for every stage in life. It seems that phases of our children's lives that aren't so fun for us (think terrible two's and three's, tween and teenage years) are followed by a reprieve, a time when we are separated (think school, spending more time with friends). It is during that time that we miss that same kid who was driving us insane 24 hours ago.
Life is circular; it starts each day with a sunrise and ends with a sunset. That is good news. God didn't give us just one day and one chance to get it right before smiting us. In fact, he gives us several laps around the same track before He gently reminds us who is really in control. So, if you feel like you've been on the same path, learning the same lesson, going around in circles, you probably have.
It is somewhere in those moments where you seem to be beating your head against the wall that you realize that you really love your kids, you don't actually need wine or cookies to make it through the night, and that this is yet another phase that will pass.
The even better news is that a new day is waiting right around the corner, with events you couldn't orchestrate, that are fresh to your eyes, that God knows are coming and is just waiting for you to enjoy so He can enjoy you enjoying them.
So, with this mindset guiding me, I chalk up yesterday to one of "those" days.
And, as I face August head-on, I do so knowing that I WILL miss my kids when they go off to school. I will be glad for them to be home in the afternoons and evenings. And I will savor the time we have to spend together between now and then, even though some days the then seems like the distance between the Earth to the Sun.
"There is a time for everything, and a season for for every activity under the heavens...He has made everything beautiful in its time." ~Ecclesiastes 3:1; 11
When I ask my husband to go get a bottle of wine and I make chocolate chip cookies. That's when.
Turns out I'm getting no cooperation from either the calendar OR the wine OR the cookies.
We've hit the dog days of summer. Hot, humid, and frankly reason for traveling to other states that don't understand why air conditioning is essential to human life. My kids are responding to the heat with "OHMYGOSHYOUARERUININGMYLIFEBYNOTLETTINGMEGOPLAYRIGHTTHISMINUTE" despite the fact that pigs have inquired about moving into their rooms, there is a funky smell coming from somewhere in the house and it is a moving target (can you say "time for a shower/deodorant"), and they have been playing ALL SUMMER LONG.
The wine (white, thanks for asking) was warm. Not suitable for drinking when it was purchased at 8:15p.m. last night, yet surprisingly appealing as a breakfast drink this morning; I am holding myself back from popping the cork as I type this at 10:15.
In lieu of the wine, I decided to have one of the cookies, praying that eating it after 9p.m. would not render it another pothole on the side of my thigh. The cookies were mega-sized. I baked five of them, one each for every member of the house. Problem was, I have a greedy child who thought that extra cookie was baked for him, didn't ask if it was indeed for him, and who kept on claiming innocence in the face of a cop-style grilling due to obvious evidence to the contrary.
At 10p.m. last night I pronounced bedtime as the only sane remedy for keeping my head from flying off my body.
In the midst of all this mayhem, I might have called my kid an "asshole" to his face. He might have deserved it. I might have had to ask for a giant can of forgiveness afterwards, too.
This morning, things haven't gotten much better. I was told I didn't know how to navigate, was a horrible Mom for not letting a son change plans on a dime, and that I couldn't cook a decent breakfast.
But, the good news is that I have this all in perspective.
Some time ago I realized that God prepares us for every stage in life. It seems that phases of our children's lives that aren't so fun for us (think terrible two's and three's, tween and teenage years) are followed by a reprieve, a time when we are separated (think school, spending more time with friends). It is during that time that we miss that same kid who was driving us insane 24 hours ago.
Life is circular; it starts each day with a sunrise and ends with a sunset. That is good news. God didn't give us just one day and one chance to get it right before smiting us. In fact, he gives us several laps around the same track before He gently reminds us who is really in control. So, if you feel like you've been on the same path, learning the same lesson, going around in circles, you probably have.
It is somewhere in those moments where you seem to be beating your head against the wall that you realize that you really love your kids, you don't actually need wine or cookies to make it through the night, and that this is yet another phase that will pass.
The even better news is that a new day is waiting right around the corner, with events you couldn't orchestrate, that are fresh to your eyes, that God knows are coming and is just waiting for you to enjoy so He can enjoy you enjoying them.
So, with this mindset guiding me, I chalk up yesterday to one of "those" days.
And, as I face August head-on, I do so knowing that I WILL miss my kids when they go off to school. I will be glad for them to be home in the afternoons and evenings. And I will savor the time we have to spend together between now and then, even though some days the then seems like the distance between the Earth to the Sun.
"There is a time for everything, and a season for for every activity under the heavens...He has made everything beautiful in its time." ~Ecclesiastes 3:1; 11
Thursday, July 18, 2013
It's THAT time...
This is a simple thank you to two people on my birthday. When I eat cake on Friday, I will be remembering both of you!
Darlene: Thanks for the gift of life. Without you, none of this would have even been possible. Since I know angels exist, I want to thank you for being one so many years ago when you decided my life was worth carrying into this world. I am so glad I had the chance to meet you before you took your rightful place in Heaven.
Mom: Thank you for the gift of growing up as your daughter. You made every birthday special. I am sure you plan parties in Heaven for me every year. I was blessed to call you Mom, even though the time we had together was much too short.
PS to you both: I think I'm starting menopause. It sucks. Please tell God this isn't even remotely funny and I have a bone to pick with Him when I get there.
Hugs and Kisses
Your favorite 47-year-old daughter
Darlene: Thanks for the gift of life. Without you, none of this would have even been possible. Since I know angels exist, I want to thank you for being one so many years ago when you decided my life was worth carrying into this world. I am so glad I had the chance to meet you before you took your rightful place in Heaven.
Mom: Thank you for the gift of growing up as your daughter. You made every birthday special. I am sure you plan parties in Heaven for me every year. I was blessed to call you Mom, even though the time we had together was much too short.
PS to you both: I think I'm starting menopause. It sucks. Please tell God this isn't even remotely funny and I have a bone to pick with Him when I get there.
Hugs and Kisses
Your favorite 47-year-old daughter
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Being
This came across my email this morning and I thought it worthy of sharing. The top line is from Psalm 46:10 and the way this reads, reminding us to slow down and find God in the moment, is from the book Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer (which I have not read and, therefore, can not recommend).
Be still and know that I am God.Be still and know that I am.Be still and know.Be still.Be.
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