We're commanded to look on the positive side

Most people have heard of Pollyanna. She always found the bright side of every situation. Some have accused her of “sentimental rot.” I’ve seen ridiculous pieces of writing and skits depicting extreme responses to extreme circumstances. Such as the time Pollyanna took her pet salamander for a walk, and it broke free from its leash. She did not despair but believed it would find its way home. Two days later she skipped out the front door and down the driveway. She found the pet squashed by a car in the street. It turned out fine after all because the weather was perfect for the funeral. I confess her example isn’t so funny, but in many of the others I did see the humor and laughed.
I have heard and discussed how we’re supposed to “find the good” and “realize that all things work together for good to those who love the Lord.” It’s a fine line to be sure. When we are faced with extreme circumstances and just say, “It’s all right,” seems ludicrous to a non-believer. They don’ find any comfort at that time in the seemingly meaningless words. Do we find comfort? Do I?
Yes, I do. It’s not that there isn’t pain. I would avoid the pain if I could. God is trying to grow us to be more like him. He does allow us to go through trying times. It helps us grow if we trust and follow him. Haven’t the greatest growth spurts in the Church been at the hands of persecution? When our circumstances are impossible and all choices are impossible, it’s time to trust God. Choosing joy over anguish shows where our trust is. Perhaps they’ll ask, and I can tell them where my hope lies. Ultimately, we will know and see the big picture. It’s hard to explain a spiritual concept to someone who isn’t spiritual. What they see as sentimental rot, always Pollyannaing, is my way to trust God in all and with all. I guess I still have more questions than answers. How do I show another where my trust lies. We’re commanded to be rather than do. I need all the help I can get.

Patience

I wonder why I’m so impatient. Most of the time I feel I’m missing out on something. If I just jump in, I’ll get the best deal or opportunity. Or I feel like I just missed it. Perhaps that comes from my great depression mentality. I think I’m kidding, I think.
If I recount all the times God has come through for me, in His time, I should get it. He will provide what I need, when I need it. He has promised to do this. I’m reading through the Bible, and I’ve read where God says, “Just follow my statutes, and I’ll provide all you need.” I suppose it’s easy to sit here now and wonder why the Israelites didn’t follow God’s statutes. They’d always wander away, following their own desires, or trying to be like all the other nations. They were just trying to fit in. Wait a minute, that’s what’s happening today. We’re really not so different from the Israelites. We still figure we know best. We still figure we know what direction our lives should take. Why can’t God get it? Can’t he see that if He just gives me this raise, I’d be able to make it? Can’t He see that if He’d just come through with the winning lottery ticket, I’d give to His kingdom? Why won’t God just give me what I need? Right now.
I think if God would allow that, and He has, it doesn’t turn out very well. I’m reading another South American missionary book, and a couple committed to prayer. They were attempting to bring God’s word to certain city. They had three other couples with them. They met once a week to fall on their faces before the Lord, interceding for the city and the people. After a few months there were only three people still meeting to pray. They stuck with it. They believed they had to follow through. Three decades later the city had three major churches, all with vision. Each worship service had 900 or more. They served their neighborhoods with compassion. They were committed to reach the lost through practical ministry to others’ needs. If the couple would have given up and stopped praying, the future would not have reaped the harvest of saved souls. They had patience, believing God would prevail in His time.
So, what should I do today to remind myself to be patient and wait on the Lord? I should keep reading modern examples. I should keep reading God’s promises. If I let my doubts or impatience crept in, the first domino tips and falls, causing the whole stack, my resolve, to crumble. I need to wait on the Lord. He will renew my strength. I will reap the greater benefit He has in mind.

Deny yourself and take up your cross

The American way is to seek comfort, to avoid that which makes our way rough. We’ve gone to the 40 hour work week. We go like mad over the weekend, so we’re getting our share of leisure time. My problem was always needing to rest up after vacation. Silly pursuits. I had the same desire for our children, trying to set it for them to have it easy, so they could avoid conflict. They deserve the American way, right?
So I come upon the scripture where Jesus tells me to “Deny yourself and take up your cross daily.” That doesn’t really sound like comfort or avoiding strife. Expletive. I have lots of questions. Why does Jesus want me to deny myself? Doesn’t He want me to be happy? Isn’t getting what I want going to make me happy? I always have lots more questions than I can ever find answers. I have many suppositions.
Perhaps Jesus would like me to think of others before myself. So if I deny myself, it may help me see someone else’s need, or even supply it. If I’m taking up my cross daily, it reminds me of how Jesus sacrificed for me. It reminds me of what He sacrificed for me. He commands us to, “Do likewise.” I remind myself to keep the correct focus, to keep connected to the proper power source, to love, to apply grace, to serve, to have joy, to pray, to obey, and to have a thankful heart every morning. I also need to deny myself. Does that take a conscious effort? Do I need to say, “Oh I won’t injest that, or I won’t do that because I’m denying myself?” Does denying self always involve sacrifice? Should that sacrifice then be applied for someone else’s benefit?
I haven’t arrived at anything definite. Sometimes I hate denying myself. I don’t always find it easy or convenient. I wonder if/how Jesus denied Himself. I’m sure He’s experienced everything I’ve gone through because He understands. I need His strength to go forward. I need others to keep me accountable. I need to be honest and transparent. I’m certainly not perfect, and I stumble quite often. Jesus is my guide and my light. If He says, “Deny yourself,” I’d better obey. All questions will be answered by and by.

Love one another instead of judge one another

I am ashamed. I glibly remark, “Oh, I am so good at judging others. Why can’t they just be like me?” I read, and I truly believe that “Judge not, lest you be judged.” And “You will be judged as you have judged others.” So I am ashamed that I take God’s word and treat it irreverently. I’m not really that funny, and that joke is not funny at all.
I heard a while back that one reason we judge is that we’re impatient with others. They’re not moving fast enough, or they’re not agreeing with us. When I broke that down and examined it, it turned out mostly accurate. How awful that we judge someone else by our own shortcomings. Rhonda tells me that we don’t know the whole story of someone else. There is a reason they’re acting the way they do. We only see the surface behavior and how it doesn’t measure up to our standards. It pays to wait and perhaps learn a bit more of a person before we write them off. That of course takes time, and we have to be willing to listen if we really want to know, “How’s it going?”
Since we don’t know a person’s whole story, we, or am I talking to myself, I should make my first response love. I should suspend the impatience with that person and elevate them, like God sees them. I should ask the second question after the “How’s it going?” Or know the person well enough to ask the deeper, more personal question, “How’s it going with your relationship with your daughter?” I know God smiles at us when we regale others the way Jesus did. I just read that we should spend less time defending our “religious” stand point and spend more time washing others’ feet. It’s hard to judge someone when you’re washing their feet. And it’s easy to love someone when you’ve put them before yourself. Help me love first and ask questions later.

Youth is the time for dreams...

Several years ago I began teaching a story about a teen-age boy, Rudi Matt, whose father had been killed on the Citadel, a famous, unclimbed mountain. His father was a climbing guide, and he had stayed with his injured client on the mountain to save him. Since no one had ever conquered that mountain, some of the villagers, most of them actually, believed the mountain was cursed. Rudi’s mother and uncle had mapped out his future, which meant being in the hotel business. They started him in the kitchen washing dishes. Of course, as he looked out the window, he dreamed of being on the mountain, where he belonged. He often sneaked out, leaving a pile of dishes undone. Upon one such sojourn, he happened to find the famous Captain John Winter stranded in a crevasse. Rudi pulled Captain Winter to safety, and they connected through their love of climbing. Captain Winter couldn’t believe Rudi, the son of the famous guide, Joseph Matt, was a dishwasher, when he obviously belonged in the climbing business.
When Captain Winter was a youth himself, he had laid eyes on the Citadel. He made up his mind then to be the first to conquer it. Now, years later Captain Winter met up with Rudi, whose father also believed the mountain could be climbed. As they both gazed up at the mountain, Captain Winter uttered the line, “Rudi, youth is the time for dreams. The trick is when you get older not to forget them.”
That line struck a cord with me at the time, and I’ve pondered it a great deal since.
Why would we forget our dreams? I asked my students what they thought about that concept. I suggested perhaps, responsibility. I don’t think they could grasp that idea. What in the world is a student responsible for? But is that the case? Do we get trapped into a job or life that isn’t what we had in mind? Is the grass greener in a different field? Do we lack contentment?
I’ve heard that a person should find their passion and get the job that fulfills it. Do we go along thinking we’re in the dream job or doing the dream thing, and only after years, realize it’s not so dreamy after all? Can a hobby fill the passion? As a youth do we really consider a laudable profession that can fulfill our desires over a lifetime? How mature is youth? Is what we want or dream about then really important or another passing fancy?
We watched “The Bucket List.” Is that more like it? Have a list of dreams you want fulfilled before you die? I wonder if it boils down to contentment. I know that when I was working, that is working and getting paid, advertised vacations that promised pampering and relaxation captivated my imagination. Wouldn’t that be nice, I’d think, just some time to get away and be somewhere else. Now that I have time to catch up on sleep and be rested, these vacation spots don’t call to me as much anymore. Now I have time, but I have to save money, to be able to accomplish the dreams that were so important in youth. The trick is I have to remember them.

How do I get peace in my life?

It seems that “Peace” and “Contentment” go hand in hand. I can easily look at, or imagine what I don’t have. That could make me not content and not at peace. The world tells me to strive for that which I don’t have, so I can be content and have peace. All people want to avoid pain and discomfort which should bring them peace. The problem is “The eyes of man are never satisfied.”
The answer is to have the right focus, on God the supplier of all things, and the right connection, to the Holy Spirit, the power source. I’m not trying to minimize the situation, but it basically boils down to that point. Where’s my focus, and what’s my connection? I can focus on others and be disappointed. They let me down, they don’t fulfill my needs, they make me mad, or they don’t do what I want fast enough. I can focus on my circumstances and be disappointed. Why is it raining today when I want to work outside, why is so hot when I need to cut wood, why won’t these people listen to what I’m saying, or why is this line moving so slowly when I have to be somewhere else in two minutes? Or again, I could connect to things to bring me enjoyment. There are never enough, money or toys.
I need to realize there is a spiritual battle going on, all the time. It doesn’t take the weekends off or go to sleep to rest up. I wake up and sashay out the door, into the melee, with no armor of God on, and I wonder why it’s so hard. Or I waltz out after a good quiet time with God, feeling empowered, only to run smack dab into a spoiler, a dampener, an irritant. I should mentally go back to God, rather than engaging in a useless battle. I need to choose the right focus and maintain the right connection. I can’t accept the concept that I’m superannuated and out of the game. The battle rages on, and I’m still in it whether I chose to be or not. I can have a time out, and I should take one periodically, but I still am thrust back into the storm.
My peace can remain in the midst of the battle. It’s my choice.

Leadership

Leadership and responsibility go together, like salt and pepper, bacon and eggs, and peanut butter and banana. If a person has leadership qualities, it means not leading others down the wrong path. I’ve seen it in the classroom. I’ve had students say, “I’m not making them do it.” I wonder if they really believe that, or if they secretly are glad they have that power. Who knows?
I’ve lead students. My problem was I loved middle schoolers. I still do. It’s like walking into a buzz saw. The amount of energy there often left me reeling at the end of the day. What just happened? Luckily, the luxury of running three miles home to clear out the stress of it kept me going. Middle schoolers have issues involving growing up. They’re not quite sure how they fit in, and they’re trying to find how to fit. They have bigger bodies, lots of energy, and they have to operate in confining places. A recipe for disaster.
One day I had a dentist appointment after I got done driving the school bus. I settled into the chair, and when Dr. Latshaw came in, he said, “You just sit back and relax. You don’t have to worry about any responsibilities here.” That really hit me. I thought about it then, and I’ve thought about it a great deal since. I want to be a positive leader and impart wisdom to students, so with their passport to the future they can be equipped to be productive. That affects all of us. It’s a tremendous responsibility. Some days I wondered if I made any difference. But just about the time it appeared hopeless, a student would say something that proved they were listening and somehow an important point remained in their repertoire.
That’s where I had influence. But today, I still have influence with whoever I come in contact with. I am a leader whether I believe it or not. If I take a stand or express a belief, someone else is watching, waiting to see if they should follow or not. Leadership carries great responsibility, so I need to examine myself daily to make sure I’m leading in the right direction.

She looked out the window her whole life.

She looked out the window her whole life. She would rather be out there with all of them- any of them, or just out there alone. She could never remember being there, couldn’t because she never was. From the time she came home from the hospital till now she’d been in bed.

Not that she could remember first coming home from the hospital. Could anyone remember being born? Oh sure, there are stories about having birth memory, but she never conjured anything there. It wasn’t as if she’d never tried. She had all the time in the world to conjure whatever she wanted. Oh, she had the time. She had the time to imagine what it could be like or would be like out there.

She’d read about being out there. In all manner and in all applications she’d read about it. She’d seen pictures, had observed movies, and even dreamed it on occasion. Now she happened to glance out to see a child running. The sensation of running never passed through her legs, but she’d spent hours tracing it down. In bed, looking at her own legs, lifting with her hands, bending them, working the sensation through, making it fit, comparing the shape and angles to pictures, realizing what it would be. But there was never any sensation. Only the sensation of her imagination. She never got frustrated with this. It was a task, an exercise, an experiment, and she had the time.

Today she let her imagination go a bit. Again.

O.K. now just a walk, say, over there to the river bank. Should she sit down and soak her feet or wade in? No, she’d dive in and swim across. Delicious, the shocking cold water jarring her, making her gasp. She’d had cold sensation on her hands and face when she’d splashed the first morning water out of the faucet on her face. Now in the river she’d gulp air, thrashing to stay afloat. Yet she’d be warm. Thrashing, can you feel that, thrashing. How marvelous. Free, flailing freedom. Delightful.

Her mother tried to get her to go out in the chair. To be out there. Somehow she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Her personal miasma would drown her if she left her room. She had the window and her imagination. She had the time.

But her reality consists of the chair, her bed inside, and her window. Her reality is a prison. It really is sad.

Monday Blues

Monday Morning and dealing with the blues

I can look at every day as Saturday, or I can look at every day as Monday. It hit me last week on Friday that it had been a Monday Blue type of day, and it had been for a few days in a row, and I didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. I couldn’t seem to snap out of it. I read my Bible, I recorded some thoughts in my journal, and I prayed, but I was strangling, choking and unable to be joyful. It doesn’t get any bluer than that. I sat around most of Saturday without any drive.

Rhonda and I went to church on Sunday. I had several people I had to touch base with, but other than that, I retreated. The message was great, and I wedged it into a slot of my brain, trying to apply it to my hopelessness. Hopeless I remained. I didn’t bother to mention anything to those in Sunday school who could have prayed for me. I didn’t say much of anything.

We came home and I retreated to the basement to ruminate. I couldn’t muster much. I called my mom and checked in with her for the week. We talked about the upcoming weddings and mostly about how she’ll get here and where we’ll all stay and stuff. I tried to verbalize my internal struggle to Rhonda later, but I couldn’t really explain it. I knew that I needed to be connected to the power source of the Holy Spirit. I knew I needed to keep my focus on God and not others or my circumstances. I still felt like there was no way out. It seemed like everything I tried ended in futility. There was no point in attempting. Everything was unsolvable. I had tasks upon tasks that had to be completed, but I had no idea where to jump in to start. It was hopeless.

I started to read a book about a missionary lady who had finished nursing school and had gotten married. She was so happy. On the rainy fifth night of her honeymoon, her husband went out to use the restrooms in their campground. He never returned, and later his body was found in the water where he had washed over the bridge. Of course she was devastated. She began grieving and blaming God. She turned away from church, her family and any chance of accepting anything from God again. Over a period of time and through the prayers of her family, she began to heal. God touched her in a meaningful way, and she accepted what He had for her to accomplish. After she was accepted into missionary service and was assigned to India, she had a successful run by throwing herself into her work there. She described herself as a workaholic. She spread herself so thin that she became distressed, depressed and completely incapacitated. She had to return to the United States to be treated. At this part of the book, I began to “snap” out of it. She had described my symptoms. She had been living like I felt. He brother invited her to visit, and he gave her a copy of Happiness is a Choice by Minirth and Meyer. They explained how depression can occur in people who are busy helping others. It happens to doctors, social service people among others.

It seemed like I had been trying to hold it all together for my family. My dad passed away in 2007, and I had to be strong for everyone during that process. Rhonda’s mom just passed away in March 2009, and we had to be strong for everyone then too. I realized that perhaps these events, along with the rest of the stuff life throws my way, had stacked up. I believe Rhonda was praying for me, and I know Jesus and the Holy Spirit are always praying for me. So my time in the Word, and my calling out to Him brought me around. I know what’s true. It’s true I’m a child of God. And it’s true He loves me. I remembered I have to choose what to believe, and it’s best to choose the truth. I choose joy, and I choose to keep my focus on God. Each morning can be the bluest Monday or a bright Saturday depending on my choice. I plan to start each day with a Good morning God. It’s another great day.

Cookies, Chocolate Chip, that is

Who can resist the smell of baking cookies? Don't look at me. My motto, philosophy, believes that all cookies are good, just some are better than others. I also apply it to tacos, although I'm not entirely convinced about the fish taco. That just seems wrong. When I was in college, I certainly anticipated and appreciated the care package. I remember my mom sending chocolate chip cookies, and me not being able to hoard them well in the house. Generous nature, hoping to gain points for someone elses package that would arrive later, or just plain irresponsible always had my cookies gone in minutes, seconds I mean. I'd mentioned to my middle sister how wonderful those packages were from mom. Lynn was living in Illinois at the time, but she didn't take the bait. I wanted her to send cookies too. I finally came out and begged for cookies, and she said, "Oh, did you want me to send you cookies?" I absolutely said, "Yes!" She told me that she had, but they must have been lost in the mail somewhere. I didn't believe her, but that became our topic. I wanted, and she kept telling me she'd sent them. After several years, and even after I got married, the joke continued. Finally, I tried shaming her. I baked her two dozen magnificent examples of cookie flesh and sent them away with lots of love. Her equilibrium must have been shaken when she opened the care package because soon after she sent me a much more impressive batch. It just goes to show that if you want love, you must be the first to give it away. It will come back multiplied, overflowing. God is like that. Try to outgive Him sometime. I don't know if I'll ever try a fish taco though.

Com post. That is what I'm trying to do. We all know what goes in there. I'd like to be able to freely move around inside the blog world, however, I'm spending my time attempting to solve the navigation issue. This may be a step in the right direction, or it may be more like the bypass to get there, but not necessarily in the right way, and I may not be able to retrace this path the next time. More bypass surgery. Patience grasshopper.

Hello, where do the........... take us?

When I sit down to write, I usually have a point to make. A little rusty with composing since I've been merely writing letters and journaling for an extended period. Merely writing letters and journaling. How wonderful that could be if I had a fervor, a burning, unquenchable need to tell. I always come back to, "Who cares? Who wants to read it?" I used to run to work and home every day. That cleared out webbing and let juices and ideas flow freely. Now I find projects to procranstinate, routes to avoid, and distractions to embrace. A real slacker. Be patient grasshopper and perhaps the way will open again.