Encouragement and strength can be found by simply opening a book. This truth is displayed to me every time I open Oswald Chambers, Elizabeth Elliot or C.S. Lewis. The words on the written page are rooted in spiritual truth. They cut through the muck and mire of the earthly voices and opinions that dominate TV, newspapers and 99% of human conversation overheard at a coffee house. The words of these writers pulls my focus back to right living; it puts my gaze heavenward.
In our culture it is so easy to slip into thoughts of earthly matters. We are constantly bombarded by topics and subject matters that have nothing to do with God and everything to do with our own needs, opinions and desires.
I bought a newspaper today. Most of the articles I read had nothing to do with God or things of moral value. Most had to do with politics - demonizing the opposing party and criticizing those with differing views. The section of brief's were filled with news of robberies, murders and misdemeanors. Letters written to the editor were riddled with complaints about laws, politicians and noisy neighbors.
I came home and turned on the TV. The news was filled with depressing sagas of scandal, abuse and criminals going to trial. I switched it to that silly show "The Doctors". They were talking about diseases, medication and depression. Yay! I flipped to TLC but they were telling people how hideous they looked in their clothing on "What Not to Wear".
Without a concerted effort you can go through your day without hearing much of anything positive or uplifting. It is a sad state of affairs when it is harder to find good in the world then it is to find bad. I guess this is the whole trouble with sin - it has inundated this world, leaving nothing untouched. When you see sin for what it is you start truly understanding the devastation it causes. I'm at that place. I see how the human condition is left in shambles because of our sin nature. It is upsetting because I know most people don't see it. How can they be missing this? Doesn't anyone else see that we are living in a den of discord and disharmony? It is as if someone is singing in the wrong key and no one has noticed. Is everyone tone deaf?
When I start to get discouraged I find comfort in my favorite Christian writers. They remind me that other people on this earth have seen the chaos for what it is but have kept on living out their faith in spite of it all. These writers encourage me when the promises of God become muffled in my mind and the noise that surrounds me becomes overpowering. I open one of their books and they remind me where my hope is found, where my peace rests and where my strength is restored.
If I could meet one of these pillars of faith I'd want to meet Elisabeth Elliot. From the moment I read her first book I've been in awe of her faith and the way she articulates it. She is inspiring. She has given herself entirely to the will of God and in return he has handed her blessings along with extreme tragedy. Most people would have abandoned God if faced with trials such as the death of two husbands, but she hasn't faltered. She has remained faithful in spite of extreme trials and heartbreak.
I believe God puts people like Elizabeth Elliot on this earth as an inspiration to other Christians. I know she has been an inspiration to me. Her words have given me much needed reminders of my God's love and perfect plan for me on days when my frustration has grown overpowering and my patience has run dry. She quotes scripture that cuts to the core of my being. She gives insight that opens my eyes to my failings and inspires me to press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Jesus Christ (Philippians 3:14).
Today it was just a short piece that left me humbled and renewed. It was entitled, "When the Music Stops."
"There are sometimes spaces in our lives that seem empty and silent. Things grind to a halt for one reason or another. Not long ago, in the space of a few days, the "music" in my life seemed to stop......" She went on to quote John Ruskin who wrote, "There is no music in a rest, but there is the making of music in it.....How does the musician read the rest? See him beat time with unvarying count and catch up the next note true and stead, as if no breaking place had come between." Elizabeth went on to write, "There was 'the making of music' in what seemed a hollow emptiness. It's His song, not mine, that I'm here to sing. It's His will, not mine, that I'm here to do."
There is nothing more to say, nothing more to add. She makes the point so perfectly. This life isn't our song, it is His. If we are finding ourselves in a place of rest it is because He wrote the score that way. It is not our job to scribble on the page and add a few half notes or quarter notes. It is our job to play it as it is written, performing each melody with the form, dynamics, rhythm and, yes, even pauses intended by the master composer.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
In my own little corner
I tried a different church this morning. I'm not quite sure why. I thought I had found the church I would attend here in Florida. I've been to that church three times and like it very much but still felt a desire to try just one more.
Silly me.
The music was loud and whiny, I felt like I was in a foreign land - not a church service. For one song they sang in Spanish. I can't speak Spanish so how could I worship God in a language whose words I don't know the meaning of? It was during that song that I fell out of the mode of worship and became frustrated. The music was growing louder and the first hour of the service was upon us.
Before I left for church this morning I had such a great peace. My soul has been yearning for quiet tranquility not noise made by drums and belting vocals. I can't hear God when the music is making my chest thump and my sternum ache. That is not worship to me. Worship is the revealing of God's truth. That is when I feel the most connected to my Father and the most humbled in his presence.
After one song in particular, where the whole congregation seemed to be in a state of moaning and distress, I couldn't take it one second longer. I didn't feel my God there. I had felt him so strongly that morning in my little apartment but not here, not with all the emotional wailing that seemed to be more performance than worship. At any moment I wouldn't have been surprised if people started speaking in tongues.
I got up and walked out. Never before have I ever left during a church service but today I just couldn't stand to feel my peace with God stomped on by a a base drum. There is a time and a place for loud songs of praise but this morning I wasn't at that place in my heart. I wanted to be on my knees with soft piano accompaniment, maybe even pure silence.
God has put in my soul a thirst for serenity and quietude. I'm not sure if this will always be the desire of my heart, but for now it is. And I must admit, I'm happy to oblige. Some people love to dance in the aisles of church, clap their hands with energetic enthusiasm and raise their hands as they sway with the beat of the music. At this point in my life I'm craving something different.
I want a mat on the floor; a cushion for me to set my knees on. I want the stillness of a hushed room, only the sounds of nature and wildlife to interrupt the silence. I want Christian books filled with wisdom about scriptures and encouragement rooted in truth. I want my Bible that has my pen marks, highlighted verses and notes in the margins.
God is revealing things to me. He is revealing my weakness and my great need for him. Through reading his word and resting in his presence he is teaching me.
There have been so many men and women of the Bible who were kept in solitude for a time. Even Jesus spent time in the desert. I'm sure it was quiet there, too. But these times of silence were needed. It is the moments of quiet when God can make himself heard without competition from outside sources. We get the chance to focus on him alone and not the bombastic noise filling our daily lives.
Maybe I shouldn't have left during that church service today. I'm not sure if God was shaking his head in disapproval of my actions or if he understood my heart on the matter. Well, I'm sure he understood my heart - he always does - but I'm not sure he would find my feelings appropriate or not. Either way, I cannot take back my actions. All I can do is continue to soak in the word and ask God to forgive me for any actions that might have come across as offensive to some at that church or just plain rude. I didn't mean them in that way, I just wanted to get back to the presence of God and I wasn't experiencing it there in that room, pounding with music.
When I got back in my car I breathed a sigh of relief.
This time in my life is my own personal desert, right here on the coast of Florida. This is a time when God is growing me spiritually through suffering and daily communing with him. Sometimes that means I will need to pull away from the rest of the world so I can pull closer to him. Sometimes it might appear to everyone else that I'm just being a loner, but I'm not alone. I'm pulling closer to my God, finding comfort in the rest he promises and the peace he so abundantly provides.
Silly me.
The music was loud and whiny, I felt like I was in a foreign land - not a church service. For one song they sang in Spanish. I can't speak Spanish so how could I worship God in a language whose words I don't know the meaning of? It was during that song that I fell out of the mode of worship and became frustrated. The music was growing louder and the first hour of the service was upon us.
Before I left for church this morning I had such a great peace. My soul has been yearning for quiet tranquility not noise made by drums and belting vocals. I can't hear God when the music is making my chest thump and my sternum ache. That is not worship to me. Worship is the revealing of God's truth. That is when I feel the most connected to my Father and the most humbled in his presence.
After one song in particular, where the whole congregation seemed to be in a state of moaning and distress, I couldn't take it one second longer. I didn't feel my God there. I had felt him so strongly that morning in my little apartment but not here, not with all the emotional wailing that seemed to be more performance than worship. At any moment I wouldn't have been surprised if people started speaking in tongues.
I got up and walked out. Never before have I ever left during a church service but today I just couldn't stand to feel my peace with God stomped on by a a base drum. There is a time and a place for loud songs of praise but this morning I wasn't at that place in my heart. I wanted to be on my knees with soft piano accompaniment, maybe even pure silence.
God has put in my soul a thirst for serenity and quietude. I'm not sure if this will always be the desire of my heart, but for now it is. And I must admit, I'm happy to oblige. Some people love to dance in the aisles of church, clap their hands with energetic enthusiasm and raise their hands as they sway with the beat of the music. At this point in my life I'm craving something different.
I want a mat on the floor; a cushion for me to set my knees on. I want the stillness of a hushed room, only the sounds of nature and wildlife to interrupt the silence. I want Christian books filled with wisdom about scriptures and encouragement rooted in truth. I want my Bible that has my pen marks, highlighted verses and notes in the margins.
God is revealing things to me. He is revealing my weakness and my great need for him. Through reading his word and resting in his presence he is teaching me.
There have been so many men and women of the Bible who were kept in solitude for a time. Even Jesus spent time in the desert. I'm sure it was quiet there, too. But these times of silence were needed. It is the moments of quiet when God can make himself heard without competition from outside sources. We get the chance to focus on him alone and not the bombastic noise filling our daily lives.
Maybe I shouldn't have left during that church service today. I'm not sure if God was shaking his head in disapproval of my actions or if he understood my heart on the matter. Well, I'm sure he understood my heart - he always does - but I'm not sure he would find my feelings appropriate or not. Either way, I cannot take back my actions. All I can do is continue to soak in the word and ask God to forgive me for any actions that might have come across as offensive to some at that church or just plain rude. I didn't mean them in that way, I just wanted to get back to the presence of God and I wasn't experiencing it there in that room, pounding with music.
When I got back in my car I breathed a sigh of relief.
This time in my life is my own personal desert, right here on the coast of Florida. This is a time when God is growing me spiritually through suffering and daily communing with him. Sometimes that means I will need to pull away from the rest of the world so I can pull closer to him. Sometimes it might appear to everyone else that I'm just being a loner, but I'm not alone. I'm pulling closer to my God, finding comfort in the rest he promises and the peace he so abundantly provides.
Full of Purpose
With summer comes thousands of children finishing up another year of grade school and enjoying the warmth, sunshine and days filled with freedom that is only found in June, July and August. For many kids these months mean one thing: summer camp. Some kids fly across the country, away from home, to attend "special" camps just for girls or just for drummers or just for kids who love MacBook Air (I'm not sure about that last one but it wouldn't surprise me). Other kids might only venture a few miles away for day camp or a little farther for overnight camp where days are spent swimming and hiking and nights are spent by a campfire, under the starry sky.
Growing up all my friends loved summer camp. There was one camp in particular that almost every one of my friends attended every summer without fail - Camp Notre Dame. It was only about eight miles from my house and I passed it every Sunday on my way to church. My friends loved Notre Dame. When they were kids they attended for a week or two at a time. When they outgrew being a camper they moved onto being counselors. They had inside jokes, special songs and silly dances all the product of their time spent at camp.
Every summer when camp registration would roll around my friends would ask if I was going to sign up for the same week as they were. Every summer I declined the invitation. Summer camp never sparked my interest. I never wanted to go sleep in a cabin for a week, away from home without my family, Mom's cooking and comfy bed. All my friends raved about the great memories they were making and how I was "missing out" but I never gave in. I never went to summer camp.
Except for that one time... I was a Girl Scout (a short lived venture that I never was all that into). As is the way with Girl Scout troops, they plan special activities to enhance "bonding" and make girls more well rounded and capable. That is the point of the program as I understand it, anyways. Boys have Cub Scouts and then they grow up into Boy Scouts, finally reaching the pinnacle of Eagle Scout when they can make a fire out of a piece of bark and their brain power. Girls have Brownies and Girl Scouts. It is all about the equality of the sexes.
But back to my days in the troop. Our group had a special summer camp weekend where all of the girls in the group would attend together and have oodles of fun! Or so that was the idea.
As you can imagine, I wasn't a fan of the idea. I was a homebody. Never mind that the camp only lasted two nights and three days - I didn't want anything to do with it. But, I relented and packed my bags for the special weekend.
Lets just say that what ensued was not the fun-filled weekend the brochure boasted. I was miserable. I felt flu-ish and even got sick a time or two. I asked if I could call my Mom and tell her I didn't feel well (AKA: "GET ME OUT OF HERE!") but they wouldn't let me use the phone. When I told the nurse I didn't feel well she actually told me she wouldn't believe me unless I could produce vomit for her to see with her own two eyes. She was a charmer, can't you tell?
Needless to say, that experience solidified the feelings I already held about summer camp. I never again relented on my position and never again made the mistake of giving into the hype.
Bottom line: I was the kind of kid that got homesick. Not all kids suffer from this. Some kids could go live on a ranch, away from Mom and Dad, all summer long and it wouldn't phase them. I would have been escaping after hour three of such an endeavor. My heart has always been at home. A week of non-stop friends couldn't pull me away. The promise of exciting activities, swimming and nature exploring never looked as good as the white house on 41st Street.
As I've gotten older I've faced the fact that growing up means moving away. With age comes the expectation that you will fly the nest. It has to do something with the roots and wings theory. Your home and parents give you roots throughout your childhood and then comes the time to spread your wings and fly.
When I went away to college I put this into practice and it worked beautifully. I had a few nights at the start where I longed for the comforts of home and the company of Mom, but overall I adjusted quickly.
Then this whole health mystery hit and I came back to where my heart still resided. Home has been a safe haven since I was a little girl and that hasn't changed a bit. There really is no place like home. Home is where the heart is. Home is where you are understood, loved and accepted for who you are right in that moment.
Now I'm living in Florida, once again away from home. I thought I'd be homesick again. I thought I'd be spending my evenings longing for home, crying over loneliness and the distance that separates Erie from Sarasota. But the strangest thing has happened: I'm not homesick. Somewhere on my journey of growing up I have become comfortable with miles between me and my childhood home. I don't know when it happened, but the tides of change have moved in me.
Instead of homesickness I am plagued by another time of yearning. I have purpose-sickness. It doesn't have the same ring to it as "homesick" but you get the idea.
Each day starts with the same question: what should I do with myself? For the past six months my life has revolved, non-stop, around my health. I have had little else to entertain my focus and fill my hours. Where I go, what I do and when I do it is all controlled by how I feel and what ailments my body is experiencing that given day. There have been days when I have ventured out for an adventure only to be struck by sickness that drives me back home, to the couch or, more often, the bathroom. My life has been ordered by the body that I'm stuck in. A body that I can't predict, control or understand.
There have been days when my frustration has reached its boiling point. I break down, cry, and then slip into silence. Words can't explain my despair on those days, so why even try to vocalize my feelings?
My life has come to a halt because of my body. My mind wants to be active, accomplishing tasks and taking on responsibility. But my body is standing in its way, like my own personal Berlin Wall. I want my body and my mind to be united. I want them to work in unison and have a purpose. I want, I want, I want! But wanting doesn't change a thing.
When I grow weary of this struggle I can't help but long for a purpose that goes beyond putting on twenty pounds. I am tired of a life revolving around me, yet my unpredictable health makes giving of myself difficult. Yet, I know that a self-centered existence is just plain wrong.
So, how can you make life about others when you are so caught up in taking care of your own suffering?
You write a letter.
You send a thank you card.
You make a phone call.
You give someone a compliment, a smile or an encouraging word.
I may not be able to serve in the same ways I did when my health was vibrant and thriving. I can't stand on my feet for hours in the soup kitchen or go to work for an eight hour shift, but I can still do something of meaning. I can brighten someone's day. I can be a little light to someone who may feel stuck under a cloud.
Purpose is a funny thing. Our society has made us believe it has to produce something we can see, usually money. We equate having purpose with being successful and useful. Students want a diploma, a sash and a long list of accomplishments in their graduation's program. Everyone is looking for recognition, something to show that what they are doing has meaning. Humans are always looking for other humans to validate their actions. On our human scale, we look for results to indicate that those actions are taking place.
But maybe our scope is too limited and misdirected. Maybe purpose goes beyond what the world can see and hold. Maybe purpose is something much bigger and much, much greater.
Purpose is about being Christ-like right where you are. When we view purpose as living a spirit filled life we will find that we can fulfill that purpose anywhere, no matter what our health or wealth may be. If we change the definition of purpose that is too often shrouded by plaques and fancy titles, we see that it doesn't have to do with what we "produce" but Who we reflect.
When I look back on my summers growing up I wouldn't trade them for anything - not even Camp Notre Dame. I spent my days running through the sprinkler, climbing the big (in my little girl opinion) tree in my front yard, and taking trips to the beach with my Mom. Summer was perfection. No wonder I experienced homesickness!
I do know something that I may regret in the future: missing my purpose in the here and now. I don't want to miss God's ultimate purpose for me because my vision is clouded by mystery symptoms and ill health. Starting today I am going to live a life of divine purpose. I won't be going into an office to work a job or sitting in a classroom learning a new subject. I will be reflecting the Holy Spirit that lives inside of me. I will be showing the world the love of Christ. That is my purpose and I can't wait to live it out today and every day.
Growing up all my friends loved summer camp. There was one camp in particular that almost every one of my friends attended every summer without fail - Camp Notre Dame. It was only about eight miles from my house and I passed it every Sunday on my way to church. My friends loved Notre Dame. When they were kids they attended for a week or two at a time. When they outgrew being a camper they moved onto being counselors. They had inside jokes, special songs and silly dances all the product of their time spent at camp.
Every summer when camp registration would roll around my friends would ask if I was going to sign up for the same week as they were. Every summer I declined the invitation. Summer camp never sparked my interest. I never wanted to go sleep in a cabin for a week, away from home without my family, Mom's cooking and comfy bed. All my friends raved about the great memories they were making and how I was "missing out" but I never gave in. I never went to summer camp.
Except for that one time... I was a Girl Scout (a short lived venture that I never was all that into). As is the way with Girl Scout troops, they plan special activities to enhance "bonding" and make girls more well rounded and capable. That is the point of the program as I understand it, anyways. Boys have Cub Scouts and then they grow up into Boy Scouts, finally reaching the pinnacle of Eagle Scout when they can make a fire out of a piece of bark and their brain power. Girls have Brownies and Girl Scouts. It is all about the equality of the sexes.
But back to my days in the troop. Our group had a special summer camp weekend where all of the girls in the group would attend together and have oodles of fun! Or so that was the idea.
As you can imagine, I wasn't a fan of the idea. I was a homebody. Never mind that the camp only lasted two nights and three days - I didn't want anything to do with it. But, I relented and packed my bags for the special weekend.
Lets just say that what ensued was not the fun-filled weekend the brochure boasted. I was miserable. I felt flu-ish and even got sick a time or two. I asked if I could call my Mom and tell her I didn't feel well (AKA: "GET ME OUT OF HERE!") but they wouldn't let me use the phone. When I told the nurse I didn't feel well she actually told me she wouldn't believe me unless I could produce vomit for her to see with her own two eyes. She was a charmer, can't you tell?
Needless to say, that experience solidified the feelings I already held about summer camp. I never again relented on my position and never again made the mistake of giving into the hype.
Bottom line: I was the kind of kid that got homesick. Not all kids suffer from this. Some kids could go live on a ranch, away from Mom and Dad, all summer long and it wouldn't phase them. I would have been escaping after hour three of such an endeavor. My heart has always been at home. A week of non-stop friends couldn't pull me away. The promise of exciting activities, swimming and nature exploring never looked as good as the white house on 41st Street.
As I've gotten older I've faced the fact that growing up means moving away. With age comes the expectation that you will fly the nest. It has to do something with the roots and wings theory. Your home and parents give you roots throughout your childhood and then comes the time to spread your wings and fly.
When I went away to college I put this into practice and it worked beautifully. I had a few nights at the start where I longed for the comforts of home and the company of Mom, but overall I adjusted quickly.
Then this whole health mystery hit and I came back to where my heart still resided. Home has been a safe haven since I was a little girl and that hasn't changed a bit. There really is no place like home. Home is where the heart is. Home is where you are understood, loved and accepted for who you are right in that moment.
Now I'm living in Florida, once again away from home. I thought I'd be homesick again. I thought I'd be spending my evenings longing for home, crying over loneliness and the distance that separates Erie from Sarasota. But the strangest thing has happened: I'm not homesick. Somewhere on my journey of growing up I have become comfortable with miles between me and my childhood home. I don't know when it happened, but the tides of change have moved in me.
Instead of homesickness I am plagued by another time of yearning. I have purpose-sickness. It doesn't have the same ring to it as "homesick" but you get the idea.
Each day starts with the same question: what should I do with myself? For the past six months my life has revolved, non-stop, around my health. I have had little else to entertain my focus and fill my hours. Where I go, what I do and when I do it is all controlled by how I feel and what ailments my body is experiencing that given day. There have been days when I have ventured out for an adventure only to be struck by sickness that drives me back home, to the couch or, more often, the bathroom. My life has been ordered by the body that I'm stuck in. A body that I can't predict, control or understand.
There have been days when my frustration has reached its boiling point. I break down, cry, and then slip into silence. Words can't explain my despair on those days, so why even try to vocalize my feelings?
My life has come to a halt because of my body. My mind wants to be active, accomplishing tasks and taking on responsibility. But my body is standing in its way, like my own personal Berlin Wall. I want my body and my mind to be united. I want them to work in unison and have a purpose. I want, I want, I want! But wanting doesn't change a thing.
When I grow weary of this struggle I can't help but long for a purpose that goes beyond putting on twenty pounds. I am tired of a life revolving around me, yet my unpredictable health makes giving of myself difficult. Yet, I know that a self-centered existence is just plain wrong.
So, how can you make life about others when you are so caught up in taking care of your own suffering?
You write a letter.
You send a thank you card.
You make a phone call.
You give someone a compliment, a smile or an encouraging word.
I may not be able to serve in the same ways I did when my health was vibrant and thriving. I can't stand on my feet for hours in the soup kitchen or go to work for an eight hour shift, but I can still do something of meaning. I can brighten someone's day. I can be a little light to someone who may feel stuck under a cloud.
Purpose is a funny thing. Our society has made us believe it has to produce something we can see, usually money. We equate having purpose with being successful and useful. Students want a diploma, a sash and a long list of accomplishments in their graduation's program. Everyone is looking for recognition, something to show that what they are doing has meaning. Humans are always looking for other humans to validate their actions. On our human scale, we look for results to indicate that those actions are taking place.
But maybe our scope is too limited and misdirected. Maybe purpose goes beyond what the world can see and hold. Maybe purpose is something much bigger and much, much greater.
Purpose is about being Christ-like right where you are. When we view purpose as living a spirit filled life we will find that we can fulfill that purpose anywhere, no matter what our health or wealth may be. If we change the definition of purpose that is too often shrouded by plaques and fancy titles, we see that it doesn't have to do with what we "produce" but Who we reflect.
When I look back on my summers growing up I wouldn't trade them for anything - not even Camp Notre Dame. I spent my days running through the sprinkler, climbing the big (in my little girl opinion) tree in my front yard, and taking trips to the beach with my Mom. Summer was perfection. No wonder I experienced homesickness!
I do know something that I may regret in the future: missing my purpose in the here and now. I don't want to miss God's ultimate purpose for me because my vision is clouded by mystery symptoms and ill health. Starting today I am going to live a life of divine purpose. I won't be going into an office to work a job or sitting in a classroom learning a new subject. I will be reflecting the Holy Spirit that lives inside of me. I will be showing the world the love of Christ. That is my purpose and I can't wait to live it out today and every day.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Advice from the nuts
Will someone please give me a Dear, Stephanie column and a box full of letters from confused and discouraged writers? I would take that job in a heartbeat.
In fact, I might as well just start now. The letters don't have to be addressed to me. And who cares if I get a paycheck in the end (if this takes off I will eat those words, I'm sure). I just love advice columns. It is a pipe dream of mine to be a Dear Stephanie someday. What qualifies a person for such a position? People watching? I've done my fair share of that. In fact, I have twenty-two years experience. I was a people watcher fresh out of the womb. I love to observe the actions and habits of other people. Forgive me if I sound borderline creepy. Individuals are simply interesting. Each one is unique and has little quirks that no one else shares. You can learn from watching how other people interact with one another. For example, you can learn not to dominate a conversation, among many other critical life lessons. Being a people watcher is an education in and of itself.
This is why I don't have time for college. I am too busy watching people. Excuse me while I get my studying on.
Which brings me to today's letter to Dear Annie. I have mixed feelings on Dear Annie. Often I totally disagree with her advice. In my humble opinion she misses the big picture more than she hits it. And even when she does come to a conclusion I can give an "amen" to, she uses reasoning that makes my brow get all furrowed.
Take today, for instance. The writer, known as Parent in the Northeast is a single mother who is 31, never been married and doesn't care to ever marry. The whole arrangement just doesn't appeal to her. As you can imagine, her friends don't understand this. She is constantly enduring questions such as, "Do you want to die alone?" What upbeat friends! Parent in the Northeast just wants people to know that it is okay to not marry and it is okay to not WANT to marry. She asks Annie what ever happened to "mind your own business"?
What does Annie say in response?: "Good luck with that." That gave my brow a little twitch.
Hmm... If I were Parent in the Northeast I'd be disappointed with that lame "advice." In defense of Annie, she goes on to give this parent a comeback for the next time this situation arises. Say something like, "I cannot imagine why you think this is your business." And this is where my brow furrows.
What kind of advice is that? So, people start meddling in your personal life and you give a comeback that is the equivalent of a Chihuahua snapping a child's wandering hand? Her response was juvenile. I think Parent in the Northeast would get a lot further in her reasoning to the questioners by responding with grace and maturity then resorting to sharp-tongued commentary.
It is perfectly alright to not have a burning desire for marriage. It is also to be expected that there will be opposition to this way of living. The numbers don't lie. Most people are married at some point in their life. Can we fault the married population for believing that everyone must want to be married, too? Of course not. They are in the majority, after all.
If this were Dear Stephanie I'd answer the letter much differently. My response would go a little something like this:
"Dear Northeast Parent...It is understandable that the endless barrage of questioning about your marital status will get (and obviously has) gotten old. Please try to cut your friends some slack. Although they may not always use the best wording and phrasing, I'm sure they just want you to be happy and content. Still, I agree that they should respect your feelings on marriage and your desires for the future of you and your son. I suggest responding to their questions with grace and joy. This will be the best way to convey to them that you are happy to be a single woman. Throw in a little humor, too. A light touch goes a long way. Remember - sweet will get you further than sour. Showing frustration could be misinterpreted as bitterness about your relationship status. I sense that you truly are happy being single and that marriage isn't a status you feel you need to ever obtain. Show that to those in your life by killing all the questioning with kindness. Show them how marvelous life can be as an independent, single woman!"
What do you think? Do I have a possible future as a dear so and so?
It is amazing to me the voices that are littering newspapers and TV talk shows. They are throwing around advice that doesn't seem to be in the best interest of their readers/listeners. They say the most inane comments and get paid for it to boot. What are the credentials of these people? Who taught them their logic? Shouldn't the people giving so called "advice" be trying to better the lives of those seeking answers?
Maybe the problem is that too many of these commentators on life are coming at life itself from the wrong vantage point. Instead of seeing things through a Christian, moral scope they are observing everything through a self driven lens: What is best for me? They are being led by selfish motives, not what is truly right.
This world doesn't need more advice from confused and misdirected human beings. The world of Dr. Phils and Dear Annies isn't leading us in a positive direction. Last I checked, divorce rates haven't dropped because TV has started trying to solve relationship problems while a studio audience observes this twisted form of "entertainment". We need people who are looking at life through God's view finder. We need real convictions rooted in truth, not what feels right or suits us at the moment.
I don't think the USA Today or Herald Tribune would ever have me as an advice columnist. They would probably call me one of those "Right wing Christian Conservative nuts". And to that I would say, "Uh-huh! And thank you, thank you very much."
In fact, I might as well just start now. The letters don't have to be addressed to me. And who cares if I get a paycheck in the end (if this takes off I will eat those words, I'm sure). I just love advice columns. It is a pipe dream of mine to be a Dear Stephanie someday. What qualifies a person for such a position? People watching? I've done my fair share of that. In fact, I have twenty-two years experience. I was a people watcher fresh out of the womb. I love to observe the actions and habits of other people. Forgive me if I sound borderline creepy. Individuals are simply interesting. Each one is unique and has little quirks that no one else shares. You can learn from watching how other people interact with one another. For example, you can learn not to dominate a conversation, among many other critical life lessons. Being a people watcher is an education in and of itself.
This is why I don't have time for college. I am too busy watching people. Excuse me while I get my studying on.
Which brings me to today's letter to Dear Annie. I have mixed feelings on Dear Annie. Often I totally disagree with her advice. In my humble opinion she misses the big picture more than she hits it. And even when she does come to a conclusion I can give an "amen" to, she uses reasoning that makes my brow get all furrowed.
Take today, for instance. The writer, known as Parent in the Northeast is a single mother who is 31, never been married and doesn't care to ever marry. The whole arrangement just doesn't appeal to her. As you can imagine, her friends don't understand this. She is constantly enduring questions such as, "Do you want to die alone?" What upbeat friends! Parent in the Northeast just wants people to know that it is okay to not marry and it is okay to not WANT to marry. She asks Annie what ever happened to "mind your own business"?
What does Annie say in response?: "Good luck with that." That gave my brow a little twitch.
Hmm... If I were Parent in the Northeast I'd be disappointed with that lame "advice." In defense of Annie, she goes on to give this parent a comeback for the next time this situation arises. Say something like, "I cannot imagine why you think this is your business." And this is where my brow furrows.
What kind of advice is that? So, people start meddling in your personal life and you give a comeback that is the equivalent of a Chihuahua snapping a child's wandering hand? Her response was juvenile. I think Parent in the Northeast would get a lot further in her reasoning to the questioners by responding with grace and maturity then resorting to sharp-tongued commentary.
It is perfectly alright to not have a burning desire for marriage. It is also to be expected that there will be opposition to this way of living. The numbers don't lie. Most people are married at some point in their life. Can we fault the married population for believing that everyone must want to be married, too? Of course not. They are in the majority, after all.
If this were Dear Stephanie I'd answer the letter much differently. My response would go a little something like this:
"Dear Northeast Parent...It is understandable that the endless barrage of questioning about your marital status will get (and obviously has) gotten old. Please try to cut your friends some slack. Although they may not always use the best wording and phrasing, I'm sure they just want you to be happy and content. Still, I agree that they should respect your feelings on marriage and your desires for the future of you and your son. I suggest responding to their questions with grace and joy. This will be the best way to convey to them that you are happy to be a single woman. Throw in a little humor, too. A light touch goes a long way. Remember - sweet will get you further than sour. Showing frustration could be misinterpreted as bitterness about your relationship status. I sense that you truly are happy being single and that marriage isn't a status you feel you need to ever obtain. Show that to those in your life by killing all the questioning with kindness. Show them how marvelous life can be as an independent, single woman!"
What do you think? Do I have a possible future as a dear so and so?
It is amazing to me the voices that are littering newspapers and TV talk shows. They are throwing around advice that doesn't seem to be in the best interest of their readers/listeners. They say the most inane comments and get paid for it to boot. What are the credentials of these people? Who taught them their logic? Shouldn't the people giving so called "advice" be trying to better the lives of those seeking answers?
Maybe the problem is that too many of these commentators on life are coming at life itself from the wrong vantage point. Instead of seeing things through a Christian, moral scope they are observing everything through a self driven lens: What is best for me? They are being led by selfish motives, not what is truly right.
This world doesn't need more advice from confused and misdirected human beings. The world of Dr. Phils and Dear Annies isn't leading us in a positive direction. Last I checked, divorce rates haven't dropped because TV has started trying to solve relationship problems while a studio audience observes this twisted form of "entertainment". We need people who are looking at life through God's view finder. We need real convictions rooted in truth, not what feels right or suits us at the moment.
I don't think the USA Today or Herald Tribune would ever have me as an advice columnist. They would probably call me one of those "Right wing Christian Conservative nuts". And to that I would say, "Uh-huh! And thank you, thank you very much."
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Abundantly Grateful
My NOOK Simple has a battery life of a couple of months - depending on use.
My MacBook runs for about six hours of consecutive pointing and clicking before it starts signaling its departure unless I plug it into the charger.
My iPhone doesn't require a daily charge unless I'm in extreme texting mode - which is quite rare these days.
My Sony digital camera can go for a whole week's worth of vacation picture taking before it is calling it quits.
My Nikon DSLR takes hundreds of photos before it wants a recharge.
But when any of those devices need to be plugged in there is no stopping the rapid decline in functioning that is to follow. Take, for instance, my Nikon. It starts taking away features from me when I don't have enough battery power left, even before it is entirely dead. First, a little picture of a battery starts flashing on the screen. At this point the battery is still green and seems to be indicating that the camera is growing tired. Then shutter mode quits. No more picture taking fun. I can view what I've already taken, change up my settings and scroll through the menu but my flash is disabled and my camera is useless for memory catching until I recharge. If I keep using the remaining features at some point my little green battery will turn red and then, at some point, all lights go dark.
What I realized today is that I too am feeling like one of my many devices that starts giving out as the battery life slips away. Each new pain, ache and weakness is another bar on the battery life indicator that fades away. The picture of my battery is flashing, just like my cameras. It is dying to be plugged in. It is warning me that the mode in life which gave me the ability to run, jump and laugh is disabled. I need a charger. I need plugged in. Will someone, please find me an outlet?!
Trust me, I've tried to remain strong and keep my composure but my will to push through the pain is wearing thin. Every day there is a new ailment and symptom that didn't seem to exist before. My body is screaming at me and I can't find any way to make it stop. Just a few days ago a pain in my neck started. A bump had been there for a good long while (I'm talking months) but I didn't think much of it. Every great once and a while it ached a bit and I noticed it but never before had my neck felt so stiff and sore. I knew it wasn't how I had slept. That is a different kind of pain. This was at the base of my skull, right near the bump.
At first I tried to ignore it but as the day wore on I began to realize that this new development wasn't a passing whim. And sure enough, as I sit here today writing I still feel the pain in my neck. It has caused a stiffness that makes me feel aged and weak. Sometimes I slowly turn my head, trying to work out what a chiropractor might call a "kink". I keep good posture. But no luck. The pain persists.
Then this morning another development. This time it came in my legs. Throughout this health mystery I have suffered off and on with odd symptoms in my legs. Sometimes it is joint pain in my knees and other times it is what I refer to as "sand bag legs". These ailments come without warning and have always left at some point (sometimes it takes much longer for them to vacate then I would like though). There presence seems to have no rhyme nor reason. Today, as I walked Pippy, my legs fired up again. This time it was worse then before. A shooting pain crept into the back of my knees while my hamstrings and quadriceps ached. Again, my body was screaming. Oh how I wish I knew what it was shouting. Is it trying to give me clues to what is happening inside of me? Speak more clearly, please. I can't understand your language. I don't speak pain. Do they have a Rosetta Stone for that? I'd gladly invest in such a guide to this foreign language.
As I walked I started to get discouraged. Why am I suffering in these odd ways? Why do symptoms come and go without warning? What picture are these manifestations trying to paint? I'm more confused then ever - and that is saying something. I'm always saying how confused I am but this time it has reached new heights. Usually I'm a googling fanatic, trying to figure out what is wrong with me and how to get well again. But now I'm so worn out that I don't even research my symptoms. The googling frenzy has ceased.
I know, this is bad. When you don't want to Google what is wrong with you then there must be something SERIOUSLY wrong with you. That is the litmus test. Do you want to research until your head hurts? No? Get this girl to hospital (as the Brits would say).
By now you are probably wondering where the silver lining is, because if you've read a word I've written then you know that there is always a lesson, a bright spot or a glimmer of hope and peace. I must admit that this morning it was tough to find the message in those moments of pain. With each step I grew more concerned and downcast.
Then I freed my mind for a few brief seconds. Sometimes that is all it takes. It only takes a split second for God to get through to us, but it can never happen if we don't allow our fears, concerns, anxieties, frustrations and depression to pause - even if we can only manage to do so for a millisecond. So, I took a deep breath and put all those negative emotions on hold. That is when He let me see a flicker of truth.
Gratitude.
He showed me that I need to be thankful even when my physical capabilities are being snatched away. John 10:10 says, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."
With each new affliction that comes over my body I feel like I am being stolen from. I wake up, and sure enough, the thief was there in the night, taking from me another aspect of my health. The question "why" is an easy one to ask and one that most people wouldn't blame me for asking. Yet, God doesn't leave room for why's - he gives us assurance. He tells us that he sent his son, Jesus Christ, so that we could have a full and abundant life. He warns us that there is a thief and he even gives us a heads up as to what this thief will do when he heads out on his late night prowl. We have warning. God hasn't left us to wonder and he hasn't withheld information. He was upfront right from the beginning.
Thankfully he didn't stop at the warning. He goes on to tell us that there is hope for a glorious life, in spite of the break ins and robbery. Even when everything is taken from us we can still enjoy a life of joy, peace, contentment, harmony, love, abundance and grace. Those gifts aren't withheld from us just because our physical bodies are stolen or broken. When money runs tight, marriages break up, health fails, kids misbehave, or a loved one passes away the promise of a life to the fullest is still as true as the day it was breathed from the lips of God. It isn't contingent on our circumstances or our trials. It is true no matter what.
That is what I learned this morning while I walked. Even if the thief comes again tonight and takes away another one of my physical abilities I still am living a full life because he can't take away the abundance God has already given me. No robber, no matter how adept or skilled, can get his hands on that.
So, instead of getting discouraged I decided to get thankful. I remembered the sky from the day before and looked up once again. This time I thanked God that I could push through the pain and walk. There are people born with no use of their legs. I thought of my cousin Ashley. She has Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) and since the age of two has been wheelchair bound. She has no use of her legs; her spine is weak; she can't move herself. These things will never change for her, unless God works a miracle in her body. There are other people who once walked and then, by way of accident or disease, lost that ability. I can't even imagine how hard it would be to know the freedom found in moving about on two legs and then have that taken away. But still, life can be had to the overflowing, even in those circumstances.
As I thought about those people, suffering much worse then I ever have, I couldn't help but feel pain for them. I'm grateful for what hasn't been taken from me, but I still ache for individuals who suffer greatly. My heart sinks for people without the ability to walk. When I think about Ashley my heart breaks in two. I want to give her the experience of walking a dog and the chance to run and play with her friends. If, through my pain, she could experience that freedom I would be in pain for the rest of my life.
As I finished my walk I went into prayer. First, I thanked God for the strength to keep walking even though my legs ached. And then I prayed for Ashley. The promise of an abundant life has been given to her as well, even if she never gets the chance to walk. Just like the thief can't steal that promise from me, he can't steal it from her, either.
My MacBook runs for about six hours of consecutive pointing and clicking before it starts signaling its departure unless I plug it into the charger.
My iPhone doesn't require a daily charge unless I'm in extreme texting mode - which is quite rare these days.
My Sony digital camera can go for a whole week's worth of vacation picture taking before it is calling it quits.
My Nikon DSLR takes hundreds of photos before it wants a recharge.
But when any of those devices need to be plugged in there is no stopping the rapid decline in functioning that is to follow. Take, for instance, my Nikon. It starts taking away features from me when I don't have enough battery power left, even before it is entirely dead. First, a little picture of a battery starts flashing on the screen. At this point the battery is still green and seems to be indicating that the camera is growing tired. Then shutter mode quits. No more picture taking fun. I can view what I've already taken, change up my settings and scroll through the menu but my flash is disabled and my camera is useless for memory catching until I recharge. If I keep using the remaining features at some point my little green battery will turn red and then, at some point, all lights go dark.
What I realized today is that I too am feeling like one of my many devices that starts giving out as the battery life slips away. Each new pain, ache and weakness is another bar on the battery life indicator that fades away. The picture of my battery is flashing, just like my cameras. It is dying to be plugged in. It is warning me that the mode in life which gave me the ability to run, jump and laugh is disabled. I need a charger. I need plugged in. Will someone, please find me an outlet?!
Trust me, I've tried to remain strong and keep my composure but my will to push through the pain is wearing thin. Every day there is a new ailment and symptom that didn't seem to exist before. My body is screaming at me and I can't find any way to make it stop. Just a few days ago a pain in my neck started. A bump had been there for a good long while (I'm talking months) but I didn't think much of it. Every great once and a while it ached a bit and I noticed it but never before had my neck felt so stiff and sore. I knew it wasn't how I had slept. That is a different kind of pain. This was at the base of my skull, right near the bump.
At first I tried to ignore it but as the day wore on I began to realize that this new development wasn't a passing whim. And sure enough, as I sit here today writing I still feel the pain in my neck. It has caused a stiffness that makes me feel aged and weak. Sometimes I slowly turn my head, trying to work out what a chiropractor might call a "kink". I keep good posture. But no luck. The pain persists.
Then this morning another development. This time it came in my legs. Throughout this health mystery I have suffered off and on with odd symptoms in my legs. Sometimes it is joint pain in my knees and other times it is what I refer to as "sand bag legs". These ailments come without warning and have always left at some point (sometimes it takes much longer for them to vacate then I would like though). There presence seems to have no rhyme nor reason. Today, as I walked Pippy, my legs fired up again. This time it was worse then before. A shooting pain crept into the back of my knees while my hamstrings and quadriceps ached. Again, my body was screaming. Oh how I wish I knew what it was shouting. Is it trying to give me clues to what is happening inside of me? Speak more clearly, please. I can't understand your language. I don't speak pain. Do they have a Rosetta Stone for that? I'd gladly invest in such a guide to this foreign language.
As I walked I started to get discouraged. Why am I suffering in these odd ways? Why do symptoms come and go without warning? What picture are these manifestations trying to paint? I'm more confused then ever - and that is saying something. I'm always saying how confused I am but this time it has reached new heights. Usually I'm a googling fanatic, trying to figure out what is wrong with me and how to get well again. But now I'm so worn out that I don't even research my symptoms. The googling frenzy has ceased.
I know, this is bad. When you don't want to Google what is wrong with you then there must be something SERIOUSLY wrong with you. That is the litmus test. Do you want to research until your head hurts? No? Get this girl to hospital (as the Brits would say).
By now you are probably wondering where the silver lining is, because if you've read a word I've written then you know that there is always a lesson, a bright spot or a glimmer of hope and peace. I must admit that this morning it was tough to find the message in those moments of pain. With each step I grew more concerned and downcast.
Then I freed my mind for a few brief seconds. Sometimes that is all it takes. It only takes a split second for God to get through to us, but it can never happen if we don't allow our fears, concerns, anxieties, frustrations and depression to pause - even if we can only manage to do so for a millisecond. So, I took a deep breath and put all those negative emotions on hold. That is when He let me see a flicker of truth.
Gratitude.
He showed me that I need to be thankful even when my physical capabilities are being snatched away. John 10:10 says, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."
With each new affliction that comes over my body I feel like I am being stolen from. I wake up, and sure enough, the thief was there in the night, taking from me another aspect of my health. The question "why" is an easy one to ask and one that most people wouldn't blame me for asking. Yet, God doesn't leave room for why's - he gives us assurance. He tells us that he sent his son, Jesus Christ, so that we could have a full and abundant life. He warns us that there is a thief and he even gives us a heads up as to what this thief will do when he heads out on his late night prowl. We have warning. God hasn't left us to wonder and he hasn't withheld information. He was upfront right from the beginning.
Thankfully he didn't stop at the warning. He goes on to tell us that there is hope for a glorious life, in spite of the break ins and robbery. Even when everything is taken from us we can still enjoy a life of joy, peace, contentment, harmony, love, abundance and grace. Those gifts aren't withheld from us just because our physical bodies are stolen or broken. When money runs tight, marriages break up, health fails, kids misbehave, or a loved one passes away the promise of a life to the fullest is still as true as the day it was breathed from the lips of God. It isn't contingent on our circumstances or our trials. It is true no matter what.
That is what I learned this morning while I walked. Even if the thief comes again tonight and takes away another one of my physical abilities I still am living a full life because he can't take away the abundance God has already given me. No robber, no matter how adept or skilled, can get his hands on that.
So, instead of getting discouraged I decided to get thankful. I remembered the sky from the day before and looked up once again. This time I thanked God that I could push through the pain and walk. There are people born with no use of their legs. I thought of my cousin Ashley. She has Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) and since the age of two has been wheelchair bound. She has no use of her legs; her spine is weak; she can't move herself. These things will never change for her, unless God works a miracle in her body. There are other people who once walked and then, by way of accident or disease, lost that ability. I can't even imagine how hard it would be to know the freedom found in moving about on two legs and then have that taken away. But still, life can be had to the overflowing, even in those circumstances.
As I thought about those people, suffering much worse then I ever have, I couldn't help but feel pain for them. I'm grateful for what hasn't been taken from me, but I still ache for individuals who suffer greatly. My heart sinks for people without the ability to walk. When I think about Ashley my heart breaks in two. I want to give her the experience of walking a dog and the chance to run and play with her friends. If, through my pain, she could experience that freedom I would be in pain for the rest of my life.
As I finished my walk I went into prayer. First, I thanked God for the strength to keep walking even though my legs ached. And then I prayed for Ashley. The promise of an abundant life has been given to her as well, even if she never gets the chance to walk. Just like the thief can't steal that promise from me, he can't steal it from her, either.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Stop and smell the roses
Pippy is a sniffer - hard core. I've never met a dog quite like her. She would spend all morning, noon and night smelling her surroundings. To her, what the world smells like never gets old. You would think that by the 100th time of walking up and down our street she would have had enough of smelling Gloria's (my neighbor across the street) grass. But no. Every single day, without fail, Pippy yanks on her leash to sniff the small clump of grass and dirt around Gloria's mailbox. It just looks like the rest of the neighborhood's dirt to me but to Pippy it is smell-tastic. Maybe she is on to something. Maybe there is buried treasure beneath that unassuming mailbox. Who knows?
What I do know is that Pippy has a curiosity for life. Even the simplest of surroundings, the kind that would pass me by without so much as a second thought, are prime adventure locations for Pippy. Every new place we visit is territory worth exploring.
On our trip from Florida to Erie I witnessed this love of the sniff each time we stopped for a dog potty break. I would pick Pippy up out of the back seat, set her back onto solid ground and she would start to pull and run, nose firmly planted towards the ground. I thought Pippy was strictly Poodle and Schnauzer but I swear to you there is Beagle in there somewhere because when Pippy goes on sniff alert she might as well be in the woods hunting hare. If Britain favored Beagles for their hunting skills and the royals liked them for their petite size and "singing", then they would have loved my Schnoodle. She's small, sometimes noisy and would love the chance to trace the scent of a little critter or a leaf floating by, for that matter. She isn't picky. She'll sniff anything. The Brits would love her.
I think Pippy's stop and sniff breaks kept her excited on our trip home. Every time she exited the car there was a new scent, a new type of grass and an unexplored patch of dirt just calling her name. Watching her overflow with excitement at each new gas station, restaurant or rest stop parking lot made me see highway stops in a whole new light. They are a thrill. They are an adventure.
I know what your thinking: the bathroom at the Pilot gas station on highway 75 in the middle of Kentucky is far from a thrill. You may be right. But don't forget to look at the grass outside. Don't forget to take in the trees, the landscape, the people milling about, the Mom and Pop shop on the corner and the wildflowers in the field across the street. You may not stick your nose to the ground and sniff out the surroundings but being in a new place can still be a chance to explore. All it takes is looking around, breathing in the unfamiliar air, and appreciating the beauty and uniqueness of the new scenery.
Pippy has taught me that I have a tendency to go through life with my nose down, too - but not in a good way. I go on walks and forget to look up. When I'm driving the car for long distances I stop seeing anything but the black pavement beneath me and the cars around me. When I'm riding as the passenger I go for miles and miles without looking out the window. Instead I keep my face in my book, forgetting to take a look at the world whizzing by.
But once again Pippy is teaching me a valuable life lesson. She is teaching me to look up and out. Her innate nature of being a sniffer is showing me what I'm missing in my own life: the curiosity to stop and smell the roses.
As life passes me by I am looking down, only focusing on what is coming next or what my final destination is but in my staunch determination to push forward I miss the wonder of the journey. It is a shame to imagine all the beauty I've already missed along the way. Just this morning I was walking Pippy when I realized I hadn't truly looked up at the sky yet. We were half way through our walk and yet I had been so focused on the path we were walking I didn't even think to take in the world around me. As soon as that thought crossed my mind I looked up to the sky. The clouds were grey and looked ominous. Yet, behind those clouds was a bright blue sky. You couldn't see much of that baby blue but it was there, just waiting to shine through when those pesky clouds would make their way out.
My gaze towards the heavens didn't last long. Only a moment or two. But it made all the difference. It reminded me of my place in this world and the amazing God who weaved together this fascinating creation. A simple glance at the clouds spoke more than a thousand words. It spoke peace and tranquility.
I wonder if that is what Pippy gets when she sniffs. Maybe she, too, is experiencing the wonder of creation and the marvelous design of her Creator. We'll never know what goes through those little doggie minds but I suspect that they are much wiser then we give them credit for. They know how to enjoy the simple treasures of this life when we humans simply let them pass us by. Dogs knows how to appreciate the seemingly unimpressive. They stop for the noteworthy and the not so noteworthy.
There is a lesson in that for all of us. We should all be making time to stop and smell the roses of life. The rose may look like a rest stop on the highway or a lush botanical garden. The rose may be a cloudy sky or a dazzling sunset. The point isn't whether or not it looks grand at first glance. The point of looking up is to experience all that this world has to offer because you never know what God is going to show you.
What I do know is that Pippy has a curiosity for life. Even the simplest of surroundings, the kind that would pass me by without so much as a second thought, are prime adventure locations for Pippy. Every new place we visit is territory worth exploring.
On our trip from Florida to Erie I witnessed this love of the sniff each time we stopped for a dog potty break. I would pick Pippy up out of the back seat, set her back onto solid ground and she would start to pull and run, nose firmly planted towards the ground. I thought Pippy was strictly Poodle and Schnauzer but I swear to you there is Beagle in there somewhere because when Pippy goes on sniff alert she might as well be in the woods hunting hare. If Britain favored Beagles for their hunting skills and the royals liked them for their petite size and "singing", then they would have loved my Schnoodle. She's small, sometimes noisy and would love the chance to trace the scent of a little critter or a leaf floating by, for that matter. She isn't picky. She'll sniff anything. The Brits would love her.
I think Pippy's stop and sniff breaks kept her excited on our trip home. Every time she exited the car there was a new scent, a new type of grass and an unexplored patch of dirt just calling her name. Watching her overflow with excitement at each new gas station, restaurant or rest stop parking lot made me see highway stops in a whole new light. They are a thrill. They are an adventure.
I know what your thinking: the bathroom at the Pilot gas station on highway 75 in the middle of Kentucky is far from a thrill. You may be right. But don't forget to look at the grass outside. Don't forget to take in the trees, the landscape, the people milling about, the Mom and Pop shop on the corner and the wildflowers in the field across the street. You may not stick your nose to the ground and sniff out the surroundings but being in a new place can still be a chance to explore. All it takes is looking around, breathing in the unfamiliar air, and appreciating the beauty and uniqueness of the new scenery.
Pippy has taught me that I have a tendency to go through life with my nose down, too - but not in a good way. I go on walks and forget to look up. When I'm driving the car for long distances I stop seeing anything but the black pavement beneath me and the cars around me. When I'm riding as the passenger I go for miles and miles without looking out the window. Instead I keep my face in my book, forgetting to take a look at the world whizzing by.
But once again Pippy is teaching me a valuable life lesson. She is teaching me to look up and out. Her innate nature of being a sniffer is showing me what I'm missing in my own life: the curiosity to stop and smell the roses.
As life passes me by I am looking down, only focusing on what is coming next or what my final destination is but in my staunch determination to push forward I miss the wonder of the journey. It is a shame to imagine all the beauty I've already missed along the way. Just this morning I was walking Pippy when I realized I hadn't truly looked up at the sky yet. We were half way through our walk and yet I had been so focused on the path we were walking I didn't even think to take in the world around me. As soon as that thought crossed my mind I looked up to the sky. The clouds were grey and looked ominous. Yet, behind those clouds was a bright blue sky. You couldn't see much of that baby blue but it was there, just waiting to shine through when those pesky clouds would make their way out.
My gaze towards the heavens didn't last long. Only a moment or two. But it made all the difference. It reminded me of my place in this world and the amazing God who weaved together this fascinating creation. A simple glance at the clouds spoke more than a thousand words. It spoke peace and tranquility.
I wonder if that is what Pippy gets when she sniffs. Maybe she, too, is experiencing the wonder of creation and the marvelous design of her Creator. We'll never know what goes through those little doggie minds but I suspect that they are much wiser then we give them credit for. They know how to enjoy the simple treasures of this life when we humans simply let them pass us by. Dogs knows how to appreciate the seemingly unimpressive. They stop for the noteworthy and the not so noteworthy.
There is a lesson in that for all of us. We should all be making time to stop and smell the roses of life. The rose may look like a rest stop on the highway or a lush botanical garden. The rose may be a cloudy sky or a dazzling sunset. The point isn't whether or not it looks grand at first glance. The point of looking up is to experience all that this world has to offer because you never know what God is going to show you.
Monday, June 4, 2012
The show must go on
Let's be honest, who doesn't want life to be easy? I highly doubt that many people sit around wishing and praying that they will face adversary and trials. We want butterflies and roses. We want smooth sailing. Trouble is no fun. It is emotionally and physically draining. If we all had the choice of having days consisting of happiness and ease wouldn't we choose that over difficulty and sadness?
Yet, life isn't that simple. Trials aren't contingent on whether or not we ask for them. They come unannounced and without welcome. Even if they aren't wanted, they make their way in. Trials are like termites: they permeate the premises. They invade.
My trial has come, left and come back again. It has left me weary and worn out. There have been days I haven't wanted to get out of bed or off of the couch. My will to go on has faded. How much longer will I have to live in this body with these physical challenges and abnormal symptoms? How much longer will I struggle to have proper digestion? How much longer will I be stuck at this weight, freezing without the body fat to keep warm?
Any strength I've had hasn't come from my own human power. What little human stamina I had is long, long gone. I have faced each day only by the grace of God. But still there are days when my human failing gets the best of me. I want to give up, close up shop and go home. I want to curl up in a ball and just cry until the storm passes. If I just wait it out long enough will it go away? If I just close my eyes and go to sleep will I wake up and find that this was all just a terrible, horrible dream? But each morning I am reminded that this is reality. I am reminded that I can't escape my own body. I am stuck here, in this physical state for only God knows how long.
Each morning, the suns rays shine through my window and once again tell me that God's will is for me to be in the midst of a storm. No matter how beautiful it looks outside, my body is still in a state of turmoil. Even when the world around me looks like perfection I still feel the devastation my body has endured. And the toughest part is that I don't understand why it started in the first place. I have no idea how long it will continue.
This weekend I went to my cousin's wedding in Columbus, Ohio. I had been asked to sing at the ceremony about a month ago and of course, told them I would happily do so. At the rehearsal for the ceremony I had to leave before it even began. In the cold sanctuary my blood pressure was dropping and my body was going into shutdown mode - a phenomenon I have become way too adept at detecting. Still, I knew I would sing the song the next day at the 2:30 ceremony. No matter how badly I was feeling the night before I knew in my heart that I would pull through the next day no matter what.
Saturday rolled around and my mind was focused on the task at hand: sing this song without any hint of the trial on my physical body. I didn't want to stand in front of all the guests and appear to be in the midst of a struggle. I wanted every person in attendance to hear a song for a bride and groom and feel the love between the two about to exchange sacred vows. I wanted to fade away behind a melody. I wanted to paint a picture with lyrics of love and passion.
My physical limitation didn't matter in those moments. When the piano began to play my weight didn't matter, my digestion didn't matter, my blood pressure didn't matter and my weakness didn't matter. All that mattered was the tune, the meaning and the glowing bride and groom.
And, you want to know what? It was flawless. Dad, my piano player, didn't miss a note and played at the perfect pace. I didn't fumble over a single word and hit every note. I was able to sing each word with emotion and feeling but never once did I think about the trial in my own life. All I thought about was love - but not the love of husband and wife. I have a secret: I thought about the love of God for me, not the love of Brian and Angela, the couple exchanging rings and vows.
When I sat back down in my seat my mind wandered to five little words: "The show must go on."
It isn't just true in theater. It isn't just true when there is a stage and a microphone.
The show must go on each morning when the sun rises.
The show must go on when my body is weak and my spirit is burdened.
The show must go on when my body temperature plummets and my will to carry on wavers.
The show must go on because God hasn't given up on me yet. For whatever reason, he hasn't healed me yet and he hasn't taken me to heaven yet. He has me here, feet on the soil of this earth, heart bound with his in heaven. He has me in my human body, despite ill health. If God hasn't given up on me yet then I'm not giving up, either.
Tomorrow morning when the sun comes up it won't be a reminder that my physical body is still underweight, weak and frail. The sun's rays will remind me that God has given me the gift of another day to show how, with and through him, trials can be faced no matter how difficult they may appear. Even when our physical circumstances appear daunting and threaten to overtake us, we can walk confidently in the truth that God is faithful and powerful enough to sustain us when we are weak.
Each day is a chance to show the world that with God, the show can go on. And it will.
Yet, life isn't that simple. Trials aren't contingent on whether or not we ask for them. They come unannounced and without welcome. Even if they aren't wanted, they make their way in. Trials are like termites: they permeate the premises. They invade.
My trial has come, left and come back again. It has left me weary and worn out. There have been days I haven't wanted to get out of bed or off of the couch. My will to go on has faded. How much longer will I have to live in this body with these physical challenges and abnormal symptoms? How much longer will I struggle to have proper digestion? How much longer will I be stuck at this weight, freezing without the body fat to keep warm?
Any strength I've had hasn't come from my own human power. What little human stamina I had is long, long gone. I have faced each day only by the grace of God. But still there are days when my human failing gets the best of me. I want to give up, close up shop and go home. I want to curl up in a ball and just cry until the storm passes. If I just wait it out long enough will it go away? If I just close my eyes and go to sleep will I wake up and find that this was all just a terrible, horrible dream? But each morning I am reminded that this is reality. I am reminded that I can't escape my own body. I am stuck here, in this physical state for only God knows how long.
Each morning, the suns rays shine through my window and once again tell me that God's will is for me to be in the midst of a storm. No matter how beautiful it looks outside, my body is still in a state of turmoil. Even when the world around me looks like perfection I still feel the devastation my body has endured. And the toughest part is that I don't understand why it started in the first place. I have no idea how long it will continue.
This weekend I went to my cousin's wedding in Columbus, Ohio. I had been asked to sing at the ceremony about a month ago and of course, told them I would happily do so. At the rehearsal for the ceremony I had to leave before it even began. In the cold sanctuary my blood pressure was dropping and my body was going into shutdown mode - a phenomenon I have become way too adept at detecting. Still, I knew I would sing the song the next day at the 2:30 ceremony. No matter how badly I was feeling the night before I knew in my heart that I would pull through the next day no matter what.
Saturday rolled around and my mind was focused on the task at hand: sing this song without any hint of the trial on my physical body. I didn't want to stand in front of all the guests and appear to be in the midst of a struggle. I wanted every person in attendance to hear a song for a bride and groom and feel the love between the two about to exchange sacred vows. I wanted to fade away behind a melody. I wanted to paint a picture with lyrics of love and passion.
My physical limitation didn't matter in those moments. When the piano began to play my weight didn't matter, my digestion didn't matter, my blood pressure didn't matter and my weakness didn't matter. All that mattered was the tune, the meaning and the glowing bride and groom.
And, you want to know what? It was flawless. Dad, my piano player, didn't miss a note and played at the perfect pace. I didn't fumble over a single word and hit every note. I was able to sing each word with emotion and feeling but never once did I think about the trial in my own life. All I thought about was love - but not the love of husband and wife. I have a secret: I thought about the love of God for me, not the love of Brian and Angela, the couple exchanging rings and vows.
When I sat back down in my seat my mind wandered to five little words: "The show must go on."
It isn't just true in theater. It isn't just true when there is a stage and a microphone.
The show must go on each morning when the sun rises.
The show must go on when my body is weak and my spirit is burdened.
The show must go on when my body temperature plummets and my will to carry on wavers.
The show must go on because God hasn't given up on me yet. For whatever reason, he hasn't healed me yet and he hasn't taken me to heaven yet. He has me here, feet on the soil of this earth, heart bound with his in heaven. He has me in my human body, despite ill health. If God hasn't given up on me yet then I'm not giving up, either.
Tomorrow morning when the sun comes up it won't be a reminder that my physical body is still underweight, weak and frail. The sun's rays will remind me that God has given me the gift of another day to show how, with and through him, trials can be faced no matter how difficult they may appear. Even when our physical circumstances appear daunting and threaten to overtake us, we can walk confidently in the truth that God is faithful and powerful enough to sustain us when we are weak.
Each day is a chance to show the world that with God, the show can go on. And it will.
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