On being named after a shoe and other thoughts on perspective...

It's all a matter of perspective.

How many times have we heard that? And how many times have we struggled to still get the right perspective on an issue? A person? Ourselves?

Let me start where this whole thought began...about 5 am this morning, the time my body usually wakes up and wants to spend time with me. Ugh. Being the non-morning person that I am, I find this highly offensive and do all that I can to shut it down...praying and naming the attributes of God alphabetically being among my favorites. I figure Satan hates that so he'll let me go back to sleep. And it usually works!

But not today. For today is my Mom's birthday...her first one in Heaven. And I'm glad for her. Of course I miss her terribly. But I wouldn't wish her back...she's in a better, more glorious place with the Lord she came to love and the many she had known and loved who had gone before her. And what a place to have a birthday party...all the cake and ice cream she can eat! Glory!

Anyway, it wasn't like this day took me by surprise. Over the weekend, my dad and I had talked about how we would get through it. And yesterday in the birding store, standing there waiting for someone to check me out, I teared up as I saw so many lovely gifts that would have brought her joy on her birthday...for we shared a love of gardening and creation that cemented our oft times fragile relationship.

Over the years, we had overcome many tumultuous times...becoming not just mother and daughter, but friends. Slowly we were learning to talk openly with one another, to hear each other's stories. But unfortunately there was still one story unfinished...one question I still had. But now it was too late to talk about it with her...

The call to walk out of darkness and into the light. It's ours to share.

This past week I have been lying awake at night...thoughts and words tumbling around in my head, scrambling over each other trying to find their way out into the light. Today I've decided it's time to release them...hoping that by doing so, they will serve a greater purpose than I can imagine.

But in order to do this, I will have to go back to a dark time in my life...a jumping-off point for where I am today...back to a point in time that I almost didn't survive.

Unless you've been living in a closet, you can't help but be aware of the rash of suicides out there. Maybe not even "out there"...maybe they have come closer to home than you ever dreamed. Like stealthy night-time intruders, they forced their way into your life and wreaked havoc...smashing and destroying your safe world. And now you're trying to find your way home to a new "normal"...though God knows it will take a lifetime.

I hope that what I am about to share may save a life...or give hope...or do something I can't even imagine as I follow God into this. If that happens, then writhing under this vulnerability I feel will be worth it. 

Some of you know my story. Most don't. The part I am about to share was so long ago. But it's been engraved on my mind as a signpost that I return to over and over again when I'm finding myself lost and wandering...a sign post God has erected not only for me, but for others also. I see that now.

Keeping our eyes on Heaven...and not Death

My husband and I spent this past weekend in the lowlands of Charleston, SC with the local Audubon group...chasing birds, trying to avoid chiggers and mosquitoes, and making a 40th anniversary memory worthy of holding on to.

While the rest of the group cocked their ears and combed the sky and tree lines with their binoculars, I  was content to wander aimlessly behind them, intent on building a relationship with my newly acquired camera. I had high expectations of my new baby...I had read enough to know she was capable of great and mighty things...if only I could figure her out.

Let's just say that out of 490 shots, maybe 10 will ever be seen by human eyes other than mine. Like any new skill, it's going to take time and lots of practice and humility to acquire any sense of proficiency with it. It's a case of the camera being willing, but my being weak. 

So, this morning I'm sitting out on our deck...trying really hard not to itch the chigger bites...blasted things...and enjoying the unusual lack of humidity and heat that make walking outside in the morning here akin to stepping into a sauna. My thoughts turned to God...how could I not worship the Creator of all this beauty around me...flowers popping with color and birds of such vibrancy, bursting out with songs of praise to their Maker. It was a smorgasbord of delight...a veritable Garden of Eden! And the thought came to me...I could capture it with my camera! 

Or not. Because then the voice of reasoning set in, screaming something akin to, "What are you thinking? Have you had your devotions and prayer time yet? No? Well then, let's get our priorities straight!" So being the dutiful person I am, I retrieved my Bible and sat down to have devotions. 

And that's when it all fell apart. My state of bliss had lasted about one hour, and then all that I had been burdened with this past week came rushing over me like a rogue wave...bent on knocking me over and sending me flailing.

So you say you're not making a difference?

The other day at a church meeting I heard a young mother/wife confess that she's not sure she's doing it right...that maybe she's falling so far short. You know, the "staying-at-home-and-feeling-like-you're-not-contributing-much-to-life" young mother thing?

If you've been there, you know just what I'm talking about...the endless pull by little hands...a house that never looks like the one you dreamed of when you were single...the day after day after day dying to self and feeling guilty when you don't. It's hard. And it's so easy to feel like you're failing...God, yourself, your husband, your kids.

I remember all these things way too clearly today...the daily rush of emotion and the heaviness of futility and the just plain ol' exhaustion of keeping so many balls bouncing when really, what would happen if you let them all drop?

I was in my 20's, which means it was a long long time ago. And I was all those things I just wrote and more. I didn't come from a Christian home, so I had no training in wifeing, or mothering, or so many strengths that would have helped me cope during that overwhelming season of life.

But I did have a friend. And her name was Julie. And if ever I thought angels existed, she was proof. Truthfully, I don't even remember how we met. But all of a sudden she was there. And I mean there. Present. With me. By my side. Loving me in spite of all my unloveableness.

I remember her home...and to this day I think a part of me is still trying to recreate it. She lived passionately, colorfully, fully...tables and shelves piled high with books! Flowers...everywhere! And art that stilled my soul and spoke volumes to my dry and empty spirit! Whenever I was with her I felt hopeful and alive...like life was full of exclamation points! Like maybe someday, I could be like her.

And God knows I tried. All the best in her brought out all the best in me...whether it was loving on children...or tenderly speaking of her precious relationship with Jesus...or building a Godly marriage. She gave all of herself to whomever she was with...and she always, always, let you know that she believed in you...that inside that worn out, tired out, fizzled out you, there was a dancer...and a song...and the grace to follow hard after it.

If anyone ever taught me the value of holiness in a family, the home, and the world, it was her.

Now, many many years later and a mite bit wiser, I see it wasn't so much her I wanted to be like...but the Jesus in her...the incredibly alive relationship she had with Christ, that overflowed and poured out into all those she set her heart on. And I was blessed to be one of them.

I just learned that Julie has died. And I feel like a light has gone out that this world desperately needed. I grieve for her family...for all who knew and loved her. She made a heart-shaped hole in all of us and no one will ever fill it. I'm not Julie. And you're not Julie. She was a custom made one-of-a-kind creation that God broke the mold on.

But, dear one, you can be as Julie to someone in your life...someone who's drowning and sinking and finds it hard to go on. All that God has placed within you is tremendously valuable...chances are it's not something earth shattering...something so big that the whole world is noticing...but it's there. And it's needed. Can you listen? Can you sit with someone? Can you encourage? Can you be available?

These are the things that literally saved my life.

Pouring ourselves out for others is costly....and it's so much easier to guard our hearts and our time.  Julie could have. She could have taken one look at me and thought, "This one's gonna take a lot of me, so I'll pass."  But she didn't.

And now I have 4 children and almost 9 grandchildren and an intact marriage all because someone came alongside of me...who danced in front of me so I could catch the dream.

This is my gift to you, dear Julie...a testimony of a life well lived...no, faithfully lived...no, gloriously lived! All that you gave to me, I shall do my best to pass on to others. And someday, when we're together again, you will grab me by the hand and with that twinkle in your eyes and that sparkling laugh...we will dance.

And then we'll hold out our arms to the others we have loved, and invite them to dance with us also.

A great dance festival of praise and worship to the One who made this dance possible...and to those who labored alongside Him.

You are dearly loved, my friend. Enjoy your forever Home. I'm sure I'll recognize it when I get There.

When you're tired of being Satan's punching bag

So here I sit. At my computer. Thinking that Friday is the worst day to post a blog...and of a hundred things that need to be done right now. But this is where I must be...no matter what day it is or how much I have to do. Because you see, I need to remember something. Something very important. And like a woman who finds herself standing like a mindless zombie in the middle of a food store wondering what she is doing there...why didn't she write out a list?...I, too, must write to remember.

If the Israelites were called to remember, so must I.

Let me set the stage...

Last weekend we attended The Big Weekend Away, our church retreat up in the mountains. Our intention was to go and meet people...to see if God had anything to say...to take time to get away together. But having just come back from a tiring trip to a dreary and colorless Connecticut...and nursing a cold...I was less than excited at the prospect of leaving my warm and color drenched home for another round of dreariness and colorlessness...albeit this time in the mountains of North Carolina.

Going was definitely a case of the Spirit being more willing than the flesh. That and wanting to please my husband who had higher hopes for the weekend than I did...bless his heart. So, off we went...

You know, until this past weekend I had never noticed that we have a high number of extroverts in our church....but we do. Spending a weekend with a group of talkative, hand-raising, worshipful extroverts (who by the way think a Greatest Show on Earth Talent Show and 20's Dance is the absolute best way to spend an evening) is a bit of a stretch for me. Along with a bad first night's sleep I found myself ready to call it quits by early Saturday morning. All I wanted to do was slink back to my quiet, well ordered, and restful home. I couldn't see any part of this weekend ending well. But instead of running, I sat down on the edge of the bed and with tears rolling down my face, asked my husband to pray with me that somehow God would redeem this weekend and work out His will for our being there.

Or else I am going home, I muttered.  The line was drawn. Silly me, I had given God an ultimatum.

When life is out of focus, check your lens

Have you ever done or said something so totally wrong...so foolish... so uncaring that after it's out you wish you could go back and press the delete button?

I have...at least once a day. Most times it happens in my own head, where no human bears the brunt of my stupidity. In my foolishness I believe that I can think what I want and no one will be the worse for it...until those thoughts overflow and burst forth like a machine gun, spraying their harm over anyone within range and causing great damage.

God knows that I wish it weren't so. He and I have been talking about this "thought thing" and how important it is...for my sake and the good of others...to get a hold of what's going on inside.

Remember last week's blog about Pollyanna? Maybe that blog was a precursor to this one...I don't know. But since I wrote it, I have been asking God to help me see the people and circumstances in my life more positively...more hopefully. Like  I said to my daughter the other day, "Thirty years ago I was positive. But at 60, I'm cynical."

And I don't like it. Not at all.

So, I've been trying to turn things around...to look at life through a different lens. Not rose-colored per se as Pollyanna sought to do, but one that removes the haze and and adds clarity to the picture. Basically, I've been asking God to allow me to see life through His eyes and not my own.

And let me tell you, it is a challenge!

Let's take driving for instance...

I know I'm not Pollyanna, but...

Have you ever seen the movie, Pollyanna? The one about a girl who goes through life playing the glad-game and always seeing things on the sunny-side-of-life? The definition of a Pollyanna? One who is excessively cheerful and optimistic. That's her!

But it sure isn't me!

As a child, I loved that movie. I wanted to be like her...a bright ray of sunshine making the whole world...and everyone in it...happy.  I wanted to dress like her, talk like her, be her. But no matter how hard I tried, I never could. Oh, I could keep up the effort for a time or two...or even a day or so...but in the end, I always ended up me: insecure, never sure of what to say, feeling inadequate in most situations...plain ol' me.

Maybe that's when my gift of encouragement first started peeking out of the shadows...only to be eclipsed by my fleshly attempts to drag it out into the open and make it perform like I thought it should...in just the same way that Pollyanna did.

All I know is that I embraced the challenge that a little girl named Pollyanna could meet someone who was unhappy or in pain...and through her cheerfulness and optimism...turn that person into someone who was lovely, hopeful, and changed! She was like a little bit of yeast that turned a whole lump of sticky, gooey humanity into a loaf of bread fit for a king!

There's a lot of truth to the idea that what you read and see as a child and as an adult, leaves an imprint on you...for better or for worse. I still find myself singing that song from our kid's childhoods, "Input, output, what goes in is what comes out...input, output daily you must choose."

All this came to mind this morning as I was reading in 1 Thessalonians where Paul writes...