Today is the first Sunday in Lent. This may mean nothing to you or it may conjur up images of works-based religion that seems to spit in the face of the grace offered by Jesus.
For me, though, this is a special season in the church year. First, it marks one year that I've been regularly attending my little Anglican Church that I have come to love and appreciate so much. I first visited last year in March in the middle of Lent and stayed. I fell in love with the Anglican tradition enough to move towards it on a more permanent basis because of Lent.
Second, I appreciate both the somberness of reflecting on my life and moving towards greater self-control and discipline for a set period of time and also the concurrent anticipation of Easter and remembering why I call myself a Christian in the first place - because I believe in a God who cared enough to become like me, die, and then come back to life with the promise that I too can be whole, clean, healed, and reconciled back to Him.
Really, a little more self-control and discipline in life, whether physically or spiritually, is never a bad thing, and I think I would benefit much from having a Lenten attitude throughout the whole year, not just Lent. But I'll start small.
At my church during Lent, the pastor offers a time of confession before the service. I've never gone to confession before and didn't really know what to think about it, but some things were weighing very heavily on my heart this morning and I decided to go.
It turns out, it's strange and a little uncomfortable to confess things out loud to another person, especially a person I don't know extremely well, and because I have easy tears, I was bawling from pretty much the moment he said "Good morning." But as we moved through the confession, words from James came to mind, "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed."
Father Steve listened patiently through my tears and shaking words, and in all gentleness offered some scripture for me to meditate on this week and then reminded me that my sins are forgiven, that the price on my head has been paid for, and there is now no guilt or condemnation that need remain in my heart or mind. He prayed for me and as we closed our brief time together, I felt healing begin.
So I love Lent. I love that there are weeks set aside on purpose to reflect on where sin lingers too much still in my life and seek God's help and healing in those areas, while remembering that at the end of this season we will celebrate Easter, the day when death and sin lost the battle for my soul.
We sang a bunch of older hymns today too, which I always appreciate. One of them was "Commit Thou All That Grieves Thee." Each verse is a reminder to commit everything that is grieving your heart to God. My heart is grieving much right now, but I was encouraged by these words in the final verse, and I hope that you are too:
"Hope on, then, broken spirit;
Hope on, be not afraid.
Fear not the griefs that plague thee
And keep thy heart dismayed.
Thy God, in His great mercy,
Will save thee, hold thee fast
And in His own time grant thee
The sun of joy at last."
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Runaway Train
I was dealt two endings last week within 24 hours of each other. One ending came exactly as I knew it would - gentle and kind, quietly, and with no surprises.
The other ending came as abruptly and unexpectedly as his original entrance into my life was. In the few short months I knew him, he plowed through my life like a runaway train, and like all runaway trains, no matter how exhilarating the ride may seem at first, there's rarely a happy ending. Runaway trains crash, people die or get really hurt, and the bystanding crowd gathers around to tell stories of other runaway trains because they're at a loss as to how to help the wounded survivors.
Bystanders always mean well, I think. I've been one many times and I don't think I've ever meant any malice or harm in my words to those victims of runaway trains lying comatose and bleeding on the ground. I think I just don't ever understand what I should be saying or doing in that situation, so I grasp at whatever nice platitude I can think of to throw their way and hope a kind word is enough to stop the bleeding.
I've never been in a real accident or been seriously hurt, but I watch enough Grey's Anatomy to know that in emergency situations where someone is bleeding or dying, a kind word is never enough to save them. No, to save a life from the edge requires rolling up your sleeves, getting blood on your hands, and being willing to take dramatic risks to get that person breathing again.
I'll be honest - I'm bleeding right now, pretty profusely. I'm lying on the ER table knowing that there are people around who care and want to help and I can feel that there is work being done on me by the Great Physician, but there's a lot of shock and confusion about what happened, how I came to be in this situation in the first place and how long is it going to take to feel whole again. Not to mention realizing how much I left onboard the runaway train and feeling like the only way to be whole again is to get back on the same train. If given the chance, I would buy a ticket for another seat on this crashed train.
When I was 22, I was naively optimistic about the future. I took rides on all kinds of trains and went to all sorts of places. There were trains everywhere, and when one crashed or threw me off, I figured I was young enough and there was plenty of time to find another one to get on. I was a lot more dramatic after train crashes when I was younger - lots of wailing and sulking for months at a time sometimes - but there was always another train.
I'm almost 33 now and each crash feels more and more fatal, and there are fewer and fewer trains coming to the station even though I have a valid ticket in hand. One of the hardest parts about waiting at the station right now is how many people walk by and tell me stories about their friend or sister or cousin or whoever who finally found the right train when she 40, 50, 60 years old and to not give up! The Conductor has a good train in mind for you, Robin! Just keep waiting!
That's all fine and good and nice to hear when I was 22. But I really don't want to be told to suck it up and wait another 10, 15, 20 years for something that may never come.
The reality is I was fine. I was happy. I enjoyed my life and I was content. I didn't ask for this runaway train to run me over but it did, and now I just need some time to heal from the blow.
He told me I have easy tears and he was right. That was before he told me to never speak to him again. We were sitting on a park bench in his city one night a few weeks ago listening to a live band sing Spanish worship songs. It should have been a nice evening and he was upset that I was crying. But that's what you do when you realize the runaway train is still a runaway train no matter how much you want it to slow down and be the right train. That moment when you realize there's no way you're going to get off it in one piece.
I know I'll be ok. I don't need to hear that because I know. I also know time heals and God heals - He has healed me from deeper and worse pain than this. I know the verses about hope and good futures and those aren't particularly helpful to be reminded of right now either because I know them and I read them a lot.
I don't need to be told that you knew all along it was a runaway train and you didn't like that I got on it in the first place but you didn't want to hurt my feelings. That's not helpful. I'd rather know early on that I picked a bad train than be told after the carnage that you knew I'd get hurt. I may not listen to you but I'd rather hear it early instead of later.
I don't want to hear negative comments about this runaway train. Yes, he did damage, and yes I'm in pain, but I don't want to harbor bitterness or anger towards him. I want to forgive him and I want good things for his life. I miss him. For all the grief he caused at the end, he still brought sweetness to my life for a season and mostly I want to remember that.
The other thing about Grey's Anatomy is that it's set in a teaching hospital. There's rarely an episode that goes by where some portion of the staff doesn't gather to watch a surgery from a little room above the operating room. It's almost always a groundbreaking or risky surgery, and the characters somehow manage to resolve all of their life problems while watching the surgery and talking about life, love, and what to have for lunch.
Maybe that's a little what this blog is like for me. It's my teaching hospital where I let people watch the surgery to help the train crash victim get back to normal life again. It's a way to share what I'm thinking and feeling without having to have dozens of the same conversations about it. It's easier to let the wound be seen once by many people than to have to rip the band-aid off over and over again.
I know that the Great Physician is doing His healing work. And I know the Conductor has a good plan for my life. I know those things so deep down that I can't divorce myself from them even if I try. But for right now, I'm bleeding, I'm trying to understand how to not talk to someone I talked to every day for a long time, and I'm trying to remember how to walk.
And I know that one ending (or two) paves the way for new beginnings. I think next time, though, I'll try a taxi instead of a train.
The other ending came as abruptly and unexpectedly as his original entrance into my life was. In the few short months I knew him, he plowed through my life like a runaway train, and like all runaway trains, no matter how exhilarating the ride may seem at first, there's rarely a happy ending. Runaway trains crash, people die or get really hurt, and the bystanding crowd gathers around to tell stories of other runaway trains because they're at a loss as to how to help the wounded survivors.
Bystanders always mean well, I think. I've been one many times and I don't think I've ever meant any malice or harm in my words to those victims of runaway trains lying comatose and bleeding on the ground. I think I just don't ever understand what I should be saying or doing in that situation, so I grasp at whatever nice platitude I can think of to throw their way and hope a kind word is enough to stop the bleeding.
I've never been in a real accident or been seriously hurt, but I watch enough Grey's Anatomy to know that in emergency situations where someone is bleeding or dying, a kind word is never enough to save them. No, to save a life from the edge requires rolling up your sleeves, getting blood on your hands, and being willing to take dramatic risks to get that person breathing again.
I'll be honest - I'm bleeding right now, pretty profusely. I'm lying on the ER table knowing that there are people around who care and want to help and I can feel that there is work being done on me by the Great Physician, but there's a lot of shock and confusion about what happened, how I came to be in this situation in the first place and how long is it going to take to feel whole again. Not to mention realizing how much I left onboard the runaway train and feeling like the only way to be whole again is to get back on the same train. If given the chance, I would buy a ticket for another seat on this crashed train.
When I was 22, I was naively optimistic about the future. I took rides on all kinds of trains and went to all sorts of places. There were trains everywhere, and when one crashed or threw me off, I figured I was young enough and there was plenty of time to find another one to get on. I was a lot more dramatic after train crashes when I was younger - lots of wailing and sulking for months at a time sometimes - but there was always another train.
I'm almost 33 now and each crash feels more and more fatal, and there are fewer and fewer trains coming to the station even though I have a valid ticket in hand. One of the hardest parts about waiting at the station right now is how many people walk by and tell me stories about their friend or sister or cousin or whoever who finally found the right train when she 40, 50, 60 years old and to not give up! The Conductor has a good train in mind for you, Robin! Just keep waiting!
That's all fine and good and nice to hear when I was 22. But I really don't want to be told to suck it up and wait another 10, 15, 20 years for something that may never come.
The reality is I was fine. I was happy. I enjoyed my life and I was content. I didn't ask for this runaway train to run me over but it did, and now I just need some time to heal from the blow.
He told me I have easy tears and he was right. That was before he told me to never speak to him again. We were sitting on a park bench in his city one night a few weeks ago listening to a live band sing Spanish worship songs. It should have been a nice evening and he was upset that I was crying. But that's what you do when you realize the runaway train is still a runaway train no matter how much you want it to slow down and be the right train. That moment when you realize there's no way you're going to get off it in one piece.
I know I'll be ok. I don't need to hear that because I know. I also know time heals and God heals - He has healed me from deeper and worse pain than this. I know the verses about hope and good futures and those aren't particularly helpful to be reminded of right now either because I know them and I read them a lot.
I don't need to be told that you knew all along it was a runaway train and you didn't like that I got on it in the first place but you didn't want to hurt my feelings. That's not helpful. I'd rather know early on that I picked a bad train than be told after the carnage that you knew I'd get hurt. I may not listen to you but I'd rather hear it early instead of later.
I don't want to hear negative comments about this runaway train. Yes, he did damage, and yes I'm in pain, but I don't want to harbor bitterness or anger towards him. I want to forgive him and I want good things for his life. I miss him. For all the grief he caused at the end, he still brought sweetness to my life for a season and mostly I want to remember that.
The other thing about Grey's Anatomy is that it's set in a teaching hospital. There's rarely an episode that goes by where some portion of the staff doesn't gather to watch a surgery from a little room above the operating room. It's almost always a groundbreaking or risky surgery, and the characters somehow manage to resolve all of their life problems while watching the surgery and talking about life, love, and what to have for lunch.
Maybe that's a little what this blog is like for me. It's my teaching hospital where I let people watch the surgery to help the train crash victim get back to normal life again. It's a way to share what I'm thinking and feeling without having to have dozens of the same conversations about it. It's easier to let the wound be seen once by many people than to have to rip the band-aid off over and over again.
I know that the Great Physician is doing His healing work. And I know the Conductor has a good plan for my life. I know those things so deep down that I can't divorce myself from them even if I try. But for right now, I'm bleeding, I'm trying to understand how to not talk to someone I talked to every day for a long time, and I'm trying to remember how to walk.
And I know that one ending (or two) paves the way for new beginnings. I think next time, though, I'll try a taxi instead of a train.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Why Good Girls Go Bad
I'll let all of you men out there in on a secret - there is not a woman alive who ever wants hear the following words come from your mouth: "You are so nice."
This should be pretty logical, actually. When was the last time you wanted to act like a hero for a woman who told you you were nice? I'm guessing never. There is no fairy tale out there where the prince slays the dragon and saves the princess and she says, "Thanks, prince. You're so nice for rescuing me. Now if you'll just put me back down, I have to return to my palace and wash my hair because your dashing rival, who isn't all that nice, is taking me out to dinner."
For some reason, women, or at least me, seem to think that if they are nice enough eventually the prince will want them. The thought process seems to be, "If I can just cook him one more dinner or listen to him cry about that stupid other girl one more time or if I just help him with his homework one more time, then he'll see that he can't live without me."
This is dumb thinking and I'm tired of it. I don't know why it's taken me 32 years to figure out that usually the words "You are so nice" are almost always immediately followed by "You're such a great friend."
Friend. The other word that all women (and most men) hate to hear. Always the friend, never the girlfriend.
There's a couple of reasons why this is swirling around in my brain today. For one, I was thinking about a woman I used to know who I'll call Naomi. She died a couple of years ago but I knew her for a number of years through mutual friends. She was married for a little while years and years ago but her husband cheated on her with another man and she divorced him and never remarried. When I met her she was in her 70's and had lived alone for most of her life. No husband, no children, just a quiet solitary life. She would join us for Christmas or Easter or any other holiday where you typically get together with family, and I always used to think that even though she was a great lady, I didn't want to be like her as I got older. It got to where I almost dreaded seeing her on holidays because I was terrified of becoming her.
I don't want to be the spinster lady who goes to a friend's house on holidays because she has no one else and nowhere else to go. I keep the number of cats that live in my house strictly at two now for this reason too. If I can keep the cats at bay, maybe I can keep spinsterhood at bay too. Illogically logical.
I don't much about Naomi's story. Maybe she was happy and she liked her quiet life. Or maybe she lived the rest of her life being nice and the good friend and she secretly hated it but didn't know how to change. I'll never know. But from my perspective, I just saw loneliness and that I didn't want to have that end up being the story of my life.
I know I'm far from being a 70-something year old spinster cat lady at this point in my life, but having just been told yet again, "You're so nice and I just want to be your friend," for the upteempth time, Naomi has been on my mind today. Part of me feels like I need to change how I'm living my life in order to avoid becoming Naomi. If I keep hearing the words, "You're so nice. Let's be friends," maybe I need to figure out how not to be quite so nice and friendly.
I think this is ultimately what makes good girls go bad - they get tired of hearing the words, "You're so nice." They don't go bad because they've stopped trusting in God and His timing. I still trust in those things with all of my heart. Good girls go bad because they're tired of being nice.
So this is me today.
I don't want to be nice anymore. I'll be kind, I'll be compassionate, I'll be generous, I'll be wise, I'll be a servant, I'll be a smartass, I'll be surprising, but I'm not going to be nice. I don't think Jesus was nice. He was a lot of things, but at the end of the day there isn't a verse in the Bible that says, "Jesus was so nice." I want to be like Jesus, not the nice spinster woman I'm terrified of becoming.
To all of my single male friends, I'm done being nice to you. I'm not going to cook you another dinner. Learn how to cook for yourself or marry someone who will cook for you. I'm not going to listen to your problems any more. Talk to someone else about them or marry a woman who will listen to you for the rest of your life. I'm not going to help you with your work or your project or your homework or whatever else you can't seem to do yourself without my help. Ask one of your guy friends to do it, or marry a woman who will be your helpmate for the rest of your life.
And guys, stop being nice to us. We don't want nice men anymore than you want a nice woman. Be men. Be kind. Offer your strength when we need it. Be courageous. Be bold. Take risks. Serve the women in your life as you would serve Christ. But don't be nice. We don't need you to be nice. We need you to be men. And you don't need us to be nice. You need us to be women. And as much as it's in my control to do so, I'm done being nice.
I still trust God with all my heart that someday there will be a man who wakes up and realizes that his life will be better lived with a strong, capable, kind, and competent woman by his side, and that woman is me. I have no idea where he is or what's taking him so long, but one thing I know - when he meets me, the last thing that will cross his mind is, "Wow, that's one nice lady."
This should be pretty logical, actually. When was the last time you wanted to act like a hero for a woman who told you you were nice? I'm guessing never. There is no fairy tale out there where the prince slays the dragon and saves the princess and she says, "Thanks, prince. You're so nice for rescuing me. Now if you'll just put me back down, I have to return to my palace and wash my hair because your dashing rival, who isn't all that nice, is taking me out to dinner."
For some reason, women, or at least me, seem to think that if they are nice enough eventually the prince will want them. The thought process seems to be, "If I can just cook him one more dinner or listen to him cry about that stupid other girl one more time or if I just help him with his homework one more time, then he'll see that he can't live without me."
This is dumb thinking and I'm tired of it. I don't know why it's taken me 32 years to figure out that usually the words "You are so nice" are almost always immediately followed by "You're such a great friend."
Friend. The other word that all women (and most men) hate to hear. Always the friend, never the girlfriend.
There's a couple of reasons why this is swirling around in my brain today. For one, I was thinking about a woman I used to know who I'll call Naomi. She died a couple of years ago but I knew her for a number of years through mutual friends. She was married for a little while years and years ago but her husband cheated on her with another man and she divorced him and never remarried. When I met her she was in her 70's and had lived alone for most of her life. No husband, no children, just a quiet solitary life. She would join us for Christmas or Easter or any other holiday where you typically get together with family, and I always used to think that even though she was a great lady, I didn't want to be like her as I got older. It got to where I almost dreaded seeing her on holidays because I was terrified of becoming her.
I don't want to be the spinster lady who goes to a friend's house on holidays because she has no one else and nowhere else to go. I keep the number of cats that live in my house strictly at two now for this reason too. If I can keep the cats at bay, maybe I can keep spinsterhood at bay too. Illogically logical.
I don't much about Naomi's story. Maybe she was happy and she liked her quiet life. Or maybe she lived the rest of her life being nice and the good friend and she secretly hated it but didn't know how to change. I'll never know. But from my perspective, I just saw loneliness and that I didn't want to have that end up being the story of my life.
I know I'm far from being a 70-something year old spinster cat lady at this point in my life, but having just been told yet again, "You're so nice and I just want to be your friend," for the upteempth time, Naomi has been on my mind today. Part of me feels like I need to change how I'm living my life in order to avoid becoming Naomi. If I keep hearing the words, "You're so nice. Let's be friends," maybe I need to figure out how not to be quite so nice and friendly.
I think this is ultimately what makes good girls go bad - they get tired of hearing the words, "You're so nice." They don't go bad because they've stopped trusting in God and His timing. I still trust in those things with all of my heart. Good girls go bad because they're tired of being nice.
So this is me today.
I don't want to be nice anymore. I'll be kind, I'll be compassionate, I'll be generous, I'll be wise, I'll be a servant, I'll be a smartass, I'll be surprising, but I'm not going to be nice. I don't think Jesus was nice. He was a lot of things, but at the end of the day there isn't a verse in the Bible that says, "Jesus was so nice." I want to be like Jesus, not the nice spinster woman I'm terrified of becoming.
To all of my single male friends, I'm done being nice to you. I'm not going to cook you another dinner. Learn how to cook for yourself or marry someone who will cook for you. I'm not going to listen to your problems any more. Talk to someone else about them or marry a woman who will listen to you for the rest of your life. I'm not going to help you with your work or your project or your homework or whatever else you can't seem to do yourself without my help. Ask one of your guy friends to do it, or marry a woman who will be your helpmate for the rest of your life.
And guys, stop being nice to us. We don't want nice men anymore than you want a nice woman. Be men. Be kind. Offer your strength when we need it. Be courageous. Be bold. Take risks. Serve the women in your life as you would serve Christ. But don't be nice. We don't need you to be nice. We need you to be men. And you don't need us to be nice. You need us to be women. And as much as it's in my control to do so, I'm done being nice.
I still trust God with all my heart that someday there will be a man who wakes up and realizes that his life will be better lived with a strong, capable, kind, and competent woman by his side, and that woman is me. I have no idea where he is or what's taking him so long, but one thing I know - when he meets me, the last thing that will cross his mind is, "Wow, that's one nice lady."
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Another New Year's post - as if you haven't seen enough by now
Do you ever wish you could just go back in time and change something? It's a rhetorical question, I know. We all wish this, probably multiple times a day. At least I do.
Here's part of my list:
Here's part of my list:
- I wish I had walked away sooner. I was too loyal when I was 16 and it's a trait that has haunted me ever since. Being unabashedly stupidly loyal is about as natural to me as breathing now.
- I wish I had gone to the other college. I was afraid of what would happen if I did, so I didn't.
- I wish I hadn't done what I did to my sister that one afternoon. She forgave me, but I hurt her. Really, really hurt her.
- I wish I had listened more and talked less. Maybe I wouldn't have hurt my friend as much as I did all of those years ago.
- I wish I had never met him. Life would have been much, much easier if I hadn't.
- I wish I hadn't taken things so seriously. I wish I hadn't been so scared I was going to do the wrong thing for as long as I did.
- I wish I could re-live high school knowing what I do now at age 32. But who wants to go back to high school?
- I wish I had kissed him. But things would be much more complicated now if I had.
- I wish I had bought a different house. A house with a yard already going.
- I wish I had gone to see him before he died. But I didn't.
- I wish I hadn't bought that plane ticket. I wish I hadn't canceled the one I did four years ago. I wish I had bought the one I never did.
- I wish I hadn't said everything that's ever hurt anyone I cared about. I also wish I had spoken up and said the right thing when instead I stayed quiet and let the moment pass.
But enough of this nonsense. For all of the things that I've listed above, good has come out of them, or will come out of them yet. And each thing on that list has brought me to the life I am currently living and the woman I am, and these are not things to regret.
I believe in a God who works everything out for good. He does good things in my life becase He loves me and has a purpose for my life.
Here is the good He has brought out of the things on the above list that from my perspective have been total and complete failures:
- Loyalty is rare. Even though I may express it sometimes at the wrong times and towards the wrong people and circumstances, it's a good thing to have, and it has served me well in my jobs, in my friendships, in my faith. I don't regret this. I'd rather be loyal than a flight risk any day.
- Because I stayed put when I went to college and didn't go out of state, I was able to be part of my boys' life until they moved back to Canada. I poured into the lives of many high school students through Young Life and saw God do great things in them. I don't regret any of this.
- My sister has taught me more about grace than probably anyone else and she doesn't even know it. I have done more harm to her in the name of Jesus than I have probably done to anyone else. And yet she loves me. Through her, I have seen God and His unconditional love for me. I regret hurting her as often as I have, but I don't regret how God has used my mistakes to teach me more about who He is.
- For all the friends I have hurt with words, see above. Same lesson learned. Regret the pain I caused, don't regret the grace that has come with it.
- I took things so seriously for so long and then someone I loved died, and ironically, that was the thing it took for God to rebuild me into someone who holds on to life much more lightly. Sometimes you have to lose everything in order to gain what is really life. I laugh more now. I take risks. I love people with abandon. I have tested the edge of God's grace and found that it has no bounds. As a result, I am free to live life joyfully, with my heart on my sleeve, loving every moment, even the hard and awful ones.
- Sometimes the people you wish you had never met end up being the greatest blessings you could ever imagine. I'm not quite there yet with this one but trusting God will make things clear and right and good in some way.
- This summer will be 15 years since I graduated high school. You couldn't pay me enough to re-live those days. But I am trying to grow up with each day that goes by. I have a long ways to go, but I think I'm on the right track.
- Kissing complicates things. I regret not taking the chance, but in retrospect, we messed things up enough in our friendship without throwing that in on top of it all. I'm still hoping for another chance when it's the right time...
- I love my house. Really I do. But I hate my backyard. Hate it. And I don't have enough money to make it look nice. And yet, awful backyard aside, being a homeowner has taught me about budgeting, caretaking, making wise choices, using my home for God's glory, and being generous with my space and time. I may regret the house I chose, but I don't regret how God has used the house He gave me.
- I thought about visiting. I thought about it a lot. But I was so scared and I didn't want to take the risk. So he died without ever seeing me one last time. I regret this, but I don't regret how God used that to make me a person who takes risks now when her heart tells her to. I would rather take risks with my heart than live a lonely, sad life. Also, I was able to visit a different friend several times this fall before he died because I learned that life is short and even though hospitals are scary and you may not know what to say, it's better to go than not go at all.
- Traveling risks. I'm trying to sort through one right now that isn't going to have a pretty solution no matter what I do, but canceling other plans in years past ended up being just as ugly because I didn't go. I think I would refer to the above point again...I would rather be one who takes crazy risks than one who doesn't. Life is much more interesting this way, albeit messy. Very, very, very messy.
- I bet for most of us, our biggest regrets are from words. But the reality is, we cannot live life without hurting others and ourselves with the words we say. This is why God tells us to be very wise with the words we use. I know that I've come a long ways with this one. I've said some extremely hurtful and mean things through the years, and I've said things carelessly or in a teasing way that have hurt those I loved as much as if I had said something hurtful on purpose. Yet, through the years, God has faithfully and patiently shown me that He does not use hurtful words to me and little by little, He is making me into a woman who seeks to affirm and build others up instead of tearing down. I know this will be a constant work for Him until the day I die, but I see growth and that encourages me. And I've learned a lot about seeking forgiveness and giving it to others when their words have hurt me.
A new year always brings a lot of reflection and anticipation. We can't help but think of the things we regret but also hope that things will be better and different this year. I have no idea what this year holds, but I do know the One who holds this year. And I trust Him with every regret and mistake I am going to make in 2012, and know that in 2013 I will look back and see that He turned things into good. I believe this with all of my heart, and I pray the same for you with whatever you are regretting or hoping for today.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Faith like a child's
Once a month I serve on the Friendship Team for something called Lifetree Cafe. It's a conversation cafe where people from all walks of life come together for an hour to talk about topics as varied as are UFOs real to whether or not the president's faith matters. It's great because it gives me a chance to talk about things I maybe otherwise wouldn't and a chance to meet people I maybe otherwise wouldn't. I love it and if you've never come to one, you should. Sundays and Tuesdays at 7:00 pm and Tuesdays at noon at the Group Publishing building in Loveland.
Anyway, shameless plug aside, at tonight's Lifetree Cafe I made a new friend. Her name is Emily and she is 6 years old. She came with her grandparents and when the hour was over, Emily asked Mikal to announce to everyone in the room that it was a sad week for her because her cat died.
I have two cats myself - Charlie and Midge. While I often threaten to kill Charlie and sometimes even do things like throw him outside in the freezing cold because he's being annoying and then forgetting he's out there, I think I would actually be sad if one of them died. Especially Midge because she is my rescue cat and "special", like my friend Dan. So I could feel Emily's pain and wanted to be a friend to her.
I asked her about her cat, what its name was, what it looked like, what she liked about it, etc. and pretty soon we were shooting rubber bands up onto the second floor ledge and borrowing Mikal's key card to race up the stairs to find them, leaving a trail of pictures of hearts and flowers on every white board and large drawing pad we found along the way. I can't think of a better way to have spent my Tuesday night.
After awhile, I had to be a grownup again and clean up. I told Emily it was going to be a lot of work and I probably couldn't do it all by myself. She assured me she could work hard, so I let her. She threw stuff away, dumped out containers of ice and water, and even vacuumed a little bit. Plus she laughed really hard at me when I kept spilling popcorn all over the floor. I was tempted to steal her back to my house and put her to work there too.
One of the last things we do as we close up for the night is to write cards to anyone who has come for the first time or for anyone who has given a prayer request. The lady I sat with had shared a prayer request with me and then wrote it out on a card as well, so I went into the back room to write a little note to her to mail tomorrow. Emily came trotting back there with me and when she saw me writing a card, she asked if she could write one too.
I said yes and she said, "Don't look because it's for you." Then she proceeded to ask me how to spell every word she wrote down. It was unbelievably precious.
Here is the card:
It says "Dear Robin, I am thankful for letting me help you. Emily. Robin is a pretty name. I love you."
No, Emily. After getting this card, I'm the one who loves you.
This is why Jesus told us to have faith like a child. It is so sweet, pure, and wonderfully humbling when a child's love is given to you unexpectedly. I've blown it a lot already this week. I've said things I regret, haven't said things I probably should have, I've been selfish and unkind, and a whole list of other things. But Emily didn't see the junk I see in myself during the time we spent together. She just saw someone who played with her, talked with her, and loved her. For one brief moment, through Emily's eyes, I could see myself as God sees me because of Jesus - pure, sweet, whole, not burdened with the junk I carry around with me all of the time.
I like seeing myself through Emily's eyes, but more importantly, through God's eyes. I want to have faith like Emily's and a pure heart that loves sweetly and innocently, and trusts God when He says that what Jesus did on the cross was enough to make me clean.
And I think I'm going to start sending cards to more people. Who wants one?
Anyway, shameless plug aside, at tonight's Lifetree Cafe I made a new friend. Her name is Emily and she is 6 years old. She came with her grandparents and when the hour was over, Emily asked Mikal to announce to everyone in the room that it was a sad week for her because her cat died.
I have two cats myself - Charlie and Midge. While I often threaten to kill Charlie and sometimes even do things like throw him outside in the freezing cold because he's being annoying and then forgetting he's out there, I think I would actually be sad if one of them died. Especially Midge because she is my rescue cat and "special", like my friend Dan. So I could feel Emily's pain and wanted to be a friend to her.
I asked her about her cat, what its name was, what it looked like, what she liked about it, etc. and pretty soon we were shooting rubber bands up onto the second floor ledge and borrowing Mikal's key card to race up the stairs to find them, leaving a trail of pictures of hearts and flowers on every white board and large drawing pad we found along the way. I can't think of a better way to have spent my Tuesday night.
After awhile, I had to be a grownup again and clean up. I told Emily it was going to be a lot of work and I probably couldn't do it all by myself. She assured me she could work hard, so I let her. She threw stuff away, dumped out containers of ice and water, and even vacuumed a little bit. Plus she laughed really hard at me when I kept spilling popcorn all over the floor. I was tempted to steal her back to my house and put her to work there too.
One of the last things we do as we close up for the night is to write cards to anyone who has come for the first time or for anyone who has given a prayer request. The lady I sat with had shared a prayer request with me and then wrote it out on a card as well, so I went into the back room to write a little note to her to mail tomorrow. Emily came trotting back there with me and when she saw me writing a card, she asked if she could write one too.
I said yes and she said, "Don't look because it's for you." Then she proceeded to ask me how to spell every word she wrote down. It was unbelievably precious.
Here is the card:
It says "Dear Robin, I am thankful for letting me help you. Emily. Robin is a pretty name. I love you."
No, Emily. After getting this card, I'm the one who loves you.
This is why Jesus told us to have faith like a child. It is so sweet, pure, and wonderfully humbling when a child's love is given to you unexpectedly. I've blown it a lot already this week. I've said things I regret, haven't said things I probably should have, I've been selfish and unkind, and a whole list of other things. But Emily didn't see the junk I see in myself during the time we spent together. She just saw someone who played with her, talked with her, and loved her. For one brief moment, through Emily's eyes, I could see myself as God sees me because of Jesus - pure, sweet, whole, not burdened with the junk I carry around with me all of the time.
I like seeing myself through Emily's eyes, but more importantly, through God's eyes. I want to have faith like Emily's and a pure heart that loves sweetly and innocently, and trusts God when He says that what Jesus did on the cross was enough to make me clean.
And I think I'm going to start sending cards to more people. Who wants one?
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Fencing with Girls
I'm in Canada. It's raining and cold, but that is Canada in November for you. At least it's predictable.
It's Saturday and this morning the younger boys (Dylan age 10 and Thomas age 13) had fencing lessons. Because an hour of watching fencing is not that exciting to girls, Penny and I went to IKEA for 45 minutes and then came back to watch the last 15 minutes of practice.
I noticed that Thomas' group had quite a few girls in it. I saw at least four girls in the group of 10 or 12 kids. I thought this would make compelling conversation on the drive home, so back in the car I asked Thomas if fencing with girls was different from fencing with boys.
His answer surprised me.
Well, let me back up. I expected his answer to be "yes" but the reasons he gave were completely different than the reasons I was expecting.
I thought that he would say that it's different because you have to hold back with girls, not be as aggressive in case you might hurt them where you wouldn't hurt a boy.
But instead he said, "The girls hurt me! They have no idea how much it hurts to get jabbed in the chest because they wear chest protectors! And they just jab so hard! It's so not fair. I hold back when I fence with girls because I'm afraid they're going to hurt me."
My adult mind and heart, cultivated now by years of tears, heartache, mean words said, relationships damaged sometimes irreparably, and a whole slew of regrets, instantly read much more into his simple words than he intended. After all, he's only 13 and so far carries an intact heart that hasn't been torn apart by a girl he entrusted it to. For me, I hate watching on this end knowing that it is coming someday for him.
Right now he just sees girls as those who jab too hard in fencing because they don't know how much the jabs hurt. Time and heartbreak at the hands of a girl will eventually change that. Someday girls will be feared not because they fence hard but because they jab with their words and their actions and hurt his heart. I'm guessing that there will be girls in his life who do those things who will have no idea how much those jabs hurt.
I know I've been that girl time and time again in most of my friendships and relationships through the years, but I trust that God is changing me into a woman who thinks about the hearts of others more than she thinks about her own heart. It's a hard road and I lose the way a lot.
But I want to remember Thomas' innocent words today as I think about how I care for and interact with those around me who have fragile hearts. May I not be a woman who jabs without understanding how much it might hurt the one being jabbed. I might be wearing protection over my heart, but that doesn't mean those around me are.
I'm grateful for this day and this time here in Canada for simple moments like this. I love that God can give me simple reminders on how to care for others through the casual obersvations of a 13 year old boy after fencing lesson.
And now it's time to go demolish 10 year old Dylan at a game of cards....in love and gentleness, of course...
It's Saturday and this morning the younger boys (Dylan age 10 and Thomas age 13) had fencing lessons. Because an hour of watching fencing is not that exciting to girls, Penny and I went to IKEA for 45 minutes and then came back to watch the last 15 minutes of practice.
I noticed that Thomas' group had quite a few girls in it. I saw at least four girls in the group of 10 or 12 kids. I thought this would make compelling conversation on the drive home, so back in the car I asked Thomas if fencing with girls was different from fencing with boys.
His answer surprised me.
Well, let me back up. I expected his answer to be "yes" but the reasons he gave were completely different than the reasons I was expecting.
I thought that he would say that it's different because you have to hold back with girls, not be as aggressive in case you might hurt them where you wouldn't hurt a boy.
But instead he said, "The girls hurt me! They have no idea how much it hurts to get jabbed in the chest because they wear chest protectors! And they just jab so hard! It's so not fair. I hold back when I fence with girls because I'm afraid they're going to hurt me."
My adult mind and heart, cultivated now by years of tears, heartache, mean words said, relationships damaged sometimes irreparably, and a whole slew of regrets, instantly read much more into his simple words than he intended. After all, he's only 13 and so far carries an intact heart that hasn't been torn apart by a girl he entrusted it to. For me, I hate watching on this end knowing that it is coming someday for him.
Right now he just sees girls as those who jab too hard in fencing because they don't know how much the jabs hurt. Time and heartbreak at the hands of a girl will eventually change that. Someday girls will be feared not because they fence hard but because they jab with their words and their actions and hurt his heart. I'm guessing that there will be girls in his life who do those things who will have no idea how much those jabs hurt.
I know I've been that girl time and time again in most of my friendships and relationships through the years, but I trust that God is changing me into a woman who thinks about the hearts of others more than she thinks about her own heart. It's a hard road and I lose the way a lot.
But I want to remember Thomas' innocent words today as I think about how I care for and interact with those around me who have fragile hearts. May I not be a woman who jabs without understanding how much it might hurt the one being jabbed. I might be wearing protection over my heart, but that doesn't mean those around me are.
I'm grateful for this day and this time here in Canada for simple moments like this. I love that God can give me simple reminders on how to care for others through the casual obersvations of a 13 year old boy after fencing lesson.
And now it's time to go demolish 10 year old Dylan at a game of cards....in love and gentleness, of course...
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Oh yeah, I forgot. I have a blog
I just got back from my third short-term mission trip this year. It’s been amazing to see the different things God does in my heart each time. He’s expanded my perspective far beyond my peripheral vision this year and I know life will never be what it was before the time spent in Peru and the Dominican Republic in 2011.
Each time I’ve returned I’ve discovered that pieces of my heart stay behind. No part of my personal or professional life has been immune to God. There are pieces of my heart scattered around the Amazon jungle, Pucallpa, Peru, and now Santo Domingo, DR.
I’ve seen my life become more generous, sensitive, and compassionate over the last six months. The things that seemed so important before now pale when I think about the people I know in other countries who live on much less and have much more joy than I do. I think of the children in the Shipibo village who have never seen a car, an electric socket, or a faucet of running water, and yet they smile and laugh with fullness of life. I think of my friends in Pucallpa who deal with extreme heat, massive rainstorms, limited finances to do the work God has given them to do, and yet they serve and love with all of their hearts without complaining. He’s broadened the scope of my heart through getting to know these beautiful new friends.
My most recent trip, however, hit me personally in a way that I wasn’t expecting or prepared for. I’ve wrestled a lot this year with trying to understand God’s plan for my life when it comes to my heart and its desires (am I going to be single forever?), and I have to be honest in saying that I’ve often doubted that He knows what He’s doing and that He’s in control. I’ve felt forgotten by Him. Even as I’ve seen Him broaden my heart for the world and its people, I’ve felt like its deeper desires have been ignored. But my few days in the DR reminded me that God can and will do what I am not expecting when I am not expecting it and that the most important thing I can do with my daily life is to seek Him first. He allowed my heart to be touched deeply by someone in a way that it hasn’t been for a long time and it was a sweet thing. He reminded me that He sees my heart and He has good plans for my life, far beyond anything I could think of or imagine. What I learned in the DR is that God can do the unexpected, He is fully aware of the desires of my heart, and He can be trusted completely with a future that I cannot see.
So here I am today. I’ve transitioned somewhat back into normal life as it was two weeks ago before DR. I’ve gone back to work, gone grocery shopping, cooked for the first time in a week and a half, talked through some things with a very dear friend, and my body is slowly remembering to sleep according to Mountain Standard Time again. Life must go on even when pieces of my heart stay behind. That’s one thing I’ve learned through the years.
I have no idea what God's plans for my life are but after last week, that's ok. In fact, now I think that the not knowing might be the best adventure of all. I believe with all of my heart that He is good and can be trusted with every dream, fear, desire, and longing that I have. "Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21)
Pero, mi amor, un parte de mi corazon esta en RD contigo. Gracias para los abrazos y las conversaciones y la musica. Te extrano mucho y no te olvido. Cuando estas listo para una buena mujer, llamame :)
Each time I’ve returned I’ve discovered that pieces of my heart stay behind. No part of my personal or professional life has been immune to God. There are pieces of my heart scattered around the Amazon jungle, Pucallpa, Peru, and now Santo Domingo, DR.
I’ve seen my life become more generous, sensitive, and compassionate over the last six months. The things that seemed so important before now pale when I think about the people I know in other countries who live on much less and have much more joy than I do. I think of the children in the Shipibo village who have never seen a car, an electric socket, or a faucet of running water, and yet they smile and laugh with fullness of life. I think of my friends in Pucallpa who deal with extreme heat, massive rainstorms, limited finances to do the work God has given them to do, and yet they serve and love with all of their hearts without complaining. He’s broadened the scope of my heart through getting to know these beautiful new friends.
My most recent trip, however, hit me personally in a way that I wasn’t expecting or prepared for. I’ve wrestled a lot this year with trying to understand God’s plan for my life when it comes to my heart and its desires (am I going to be single forever?), and I have to be honest in saying that I’ve often doubted that He knows what He’s doing and that He’s in control. I’ve felt forgotten by Him. Even as I’ve seen Him broaden my heart for the world and its people, I’ve felt like its deeper desires have been ignored. But my few days in the DR reminded me that God can and will do what I am not expecting when I am not expecting it and that the most important thing I can do with my daily life is to seek Him first. He allowed my heart to be touched deeply by someone in a way that it hasn’t been for a long time and it was a sweet thing. He reminded me that He sees my heart and He has good plans for my life, far beyond anything I could think of or imagine. What I learned in the DR is that God can do the unexpected, He is fully aware of the desires of my heart, and He can be trusted completely with a future that I cannot see.
So here I am today. I’ve transitioned somewhat back into normal life as it was two weeks ago before DR. I’ve gone back to work, gone grocery shopping, cooked for the first time in a week and a half, talked through some things with a very dear friend, and my body is slowly remembering to sleep according to Mountain Standard Time again. Life must go on even when pieces of my heart stay behind. That’s one thing I’ve learned through the years.
I have no idea what God's plans for my life are but after last week, that's ok. In fact, now I think that the not knowing might be the best adventure of all. I believe with all of my heart that He is good and can be trusted with every dream, fear, desire, and longing that I have. "Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21)
Pero, mi amor, un parte de mi corazon esta en RD contigo. Gracias para los abrazos y las conversaciones y la musica. Te extrano mucho y no te olvido. Cuando estas listo para una buena mujer, llamame :)
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