Valentine's Day

I have to get this off my chest. My husband doesn't really like Valentine's Day. He thinks it's commercial and a money making scheme. Now when I tell this, a lot of women instantly feel sorry for me. I didn't get flowers, or dinner out, or jewelry, or or or...But don't feel sorry for me.

I have a husband who showers me with love every day of the year. To you, a dozen roses may speak of undying love. To me, it's the dozens of backrubs, it's the dozens of times he sits with me at doctor visits, it's the constant affection, or the look in his eyes when he sees me across a room. We don't have the same picture of romance as many couples but that is ok.

The bible says that love is laying down your life for another person's benefit.  It struck me this morning that scripture tells us over and over how to show love, but it doesn't spend much time on how to tell if someone else loves us.  Obviously God wants us to be loved and feel loved.  But I don't think he wants it to be our focus.  My focus needs to be on how I can best show those in my life how much I love them.  My focus needs to be on demonstrating Christ's love, not ensuring that I receive love from other people.  

So that's how I plan to spend my Valentine's day, well really how I plan to spend each day.  I need to find out how the people in my life feel love and then do those things without worrying about what I'm getting back.  I know that I won't do this well each day, but I do feel good about making this my goal.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Jealous?

I've been thinking about jealousy lately.  And I'm wondering if maybe jealousy has gotten a bad rap.  I can remember in the early years of my relationship with my husband any time I was jealous it was viewed as a bad thing.  And it's that bad rap that causes so many of us to be puzzled by the bible verse that says "Do not worship any other god, for the LORD, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God." (Exodus 34:14)  Wait...God's name is jealous and he is jealous.  Then how can jealousy be bad?  I think it all has to do with the heart.  What is at the root of jealousy we feel?  Is it truly the jealousy mentioned in Exodus 34:14 or is it something else entirely?  


When my motives are my own selfishness, like if I'm jealous because my neighbor drives a nicer car than I do, or the friend with the new engagement ring just trumped my great weekend story, or my coworker got the promotion that I wanted then I can be sure that I'm not feeling the same thing that the bible talks about in the verse above.  


But there are also times when jealousy is the warning that things aren't as they should be.  And I think that this is when I'm more in line with what God means when he says that his name is jealous.  We were meant to have a certain order to our relationships.  No one, aside from God, should come before my spouse.  And so if the time and attention that is rightfully my spouse's is going to someone else, he would have the right to get jealous.  It would be a holy jealousy just like what is mentioned in Exodus.  


God can't be selfish, he can't be petty.  He is to be honored and loved and cherished above all else.  He knows when he's occupying a lower place in our lives and hearts and he is jealous.   He knows that the best thing for us is when we put him first, so when we don't he's jealous.  It's the outpouring of pure love, and that's the one time when jealousy can be a good thing.  

Learning to let go

The last four months have been so strange.  For the 19 1/2 years preceding these last 4 months, my daughter was a constant in my life.  From the minute she entered this world until 4 months ago, the longest we had been apart was 1 week.  She didn't go to daycare, she didn't go to preschool, she was homeschooled.  She did sleepovers and playdates and even a week here and there at camp, but most of the time we were together.  After she graduated she had college classes and work and her own life, but we were at least connecting each evening as she told me about her day and asked about mine.  So it's been strange to have her gone with only 1 weekend home in the last 4 months.

Naturally it's made me think about what it really means to let go.  I knew it wouldn't be easy but my goal has always been with both of my kids to grow them up and launch them into independence.  But I was unprepared for how un-ready my heart would feel.  I wasn't prepared for the feeling that life went way too fast.  That the season of being a close family unit of 4 is over way before I thought it would be.  When my kids were school age I would tell them that I wanted my babies back.  I didn't want another baby, but I wanted to hold my babies, while they were babies, one more time.  

During these 4 months that my daughter has been away, my son has been growing into manhood.  He's almost 16, almost the same height as me (I'm 6' 1/2") and desperately wants to be treated like an adult.  And so I struggle doubly with the sense that life has gone way too fast.  That the years that seemed to stretch out before me when they were little are almost over.  And it brings so much anxiety.  Did I teach them the right things?  Did they learn how precious they are in my eyes and especially in God's eyes.  What if I made mistakes? (I did)  What if they make mistakes? (they will)  

But when I sift it all out it comes down to one key truth.  I'm trying to control things that are out of my control.   God didn't ask me to grow the fruit, He only asked me to be obedient in planting and watering seeds in my kids' lives.  I can't take credit for the good that God has grown in them and I can't somehow make things grow faster or better than the speed that God is allowing it to grow at.  God asked me to set a foundation in their lives.  He knew I would make mistakes, He knew I wouldn't be perfect, but he blessed me with 2 beautiful people to raise and enjoy anyway.  

My goal is to learn to let go while cherishing the relationships as they exist right now.  I want to live each day thankful for what I have rather than longing for what once was or what could have been.  Only by staying connected to and submitted to God do I have a hope of succeeding at that.

I just finished reading the book, The Help by Kathryn Stockett.  I guess that I'm naive because I had no idea that things were that bad in the 60's.  I didn't know that people thought their black maids carried diseases and germs that whites didn't have immunity to.  I've never been able to understand prejudice.  I've never understood how someone can look at a physical characteristic and dislike a person because of it.  I grew up in a predominantly white school.  We had a handful of other races.  But it was just skin in my opinion.  I don't remember looking at a person and making a decision about them just because of how they looked.

My favorite baby doll as I was growing up was black.  It was in the 70's and I thought she was the prettiest doll at the store and it never even occurred to me that anyone might have an issue with her skin color.  Why would they?  She was beautiful.  I can remember taking her everywhere and one day when going to visit relatives I got  my first comment.  My older relative said "why did you bring that nigger baby with you?"  What???  I knew that was a word you didn't say.  And I was angry.  My doll was beautiful; her skin was an amazing chocolate color, her hair was dark dark brown.   I wanted to bring her with me everywhere.  And I can remember thinking (at 7 years old) "I'm going to grow up and marry a black man so that my babies look like this doll and I'll bring them where ever I want and you better not say anything about it."

It still puzzles and angers me when I hear racist statements.  I just don't get it.  Our DNA is the same.  And more than that, God created us with unique physical characteristics.  And He considers us all equally His children.  Our skin color, the shape of our eyes, our hair-- none of that matters.  God looks at our hearts, and so should we.

I love culture, I love the uniqueness and richness of the different cultures--I don't want a big melting pot where we don't have differences anymore.  But I do want a world where everyone is accepted and respected just as they are.

Scars

My great grandmother sent me a necklace when I was a little girl.  It had a star on a chain and on the star it said "turn your scars into stars."  I didn't wear the necklace more than a few times because I got tired of trying to explain the meaning to the other kids at school.  But I kept it in my jewelry box.  

Open heart surgery left me with a big scar down the center of my chest.  It runs from between my collar bones to just above my belly button, as well as 2 puncture scars on my belly from tubes and a 4 inch scar way up on my upper right thigh from bypass..  Right after I had my surgery I decided I wasn't going to wear anything that showed these scars.  I bought shirts that had round necklines, I bought undershirts for the shirts I owned that went lower, I even bought a bathing suit that hid my scars.   I didn't want anyone else to know that they existed.  I thought they were ugly.  And they felt like evidence of my weakness, of how flawed I am.  

However, God wasn't ok with my attitude.  He showed me that I could hide my scars, but hiding them meant that I was also cutting off opportunities to share my story.  Those scars are a physical testimony of a miraculous healing.  From a worldly stand point there's no reason I should still be alive.   My aorta shredded.  That's usually fatal.  So I stopped hiding it and at first I felt so self-conscious.  People stared at my chest (not something that had ever been a part of my life before.  "Hey buddy, my eyes are up here" wasn't a phrase I had needed to use) I wasn't sure if I should say something when I saw them staring or wait until they asked.  The people who were straight forward were the easiest to handle.  I could easily tell my story when someone asked.  The hardest reactions were when I saw revulsion in someone's eyes.  We live in a society that loves physical beauty and for some people my obvious imperfection was offensive.  Last year at the beach some teens saw my scar and whispered after staring at it, "NASTY".  I'm not going to lie, that still stings.  Most of the time I forget my scars are there now.  They've become a part of who I am.  So much so that a few years ago when a cashier said "you've had heart surgery." I was amazed and asked how she knew.  She said, "um, you have a big scar on your chest."  It was funny.  

Every scar we have isn't going to be physical.   All of the pain that is part of our story can leave scars.  Some are big, some aren't.  Some are going to be repulsive to people.  And we can be tempted to hide them, tempted to pretend they don't exist and that we are unblemished.  But just like my physical scars tell about God saving my life, my emotional scars testify to the amazing love and care of God.  It's not easy to talk about  the parts of my life that haven't been perfect.  However, it is awesome to share the redemption and healing that God continues to do in my life.  If those scars can bring encouragement and hope to someone else, then I want to share how they got there.  I don't want to hide God's story away like I hid my necklace.  I want to share it and give God the glory for all He's done.  

Jesus Knows Me So Well

Sometimes being known well is a scary thing.  My best friends can pick up on what I'm thinking when I think I've hidden it well, and filtered well, because I've said nothing.  I like to live my life selectively revealing who I am.  I think we all do that to an extent, show the parts of ourselves that we think are acceptable to people and hide the rest away.  But sometimes we can't hide.  Maybe someone has learned to read us well and so they pick up on the subtleties and hiding would mean cutting them out of our lives.  And living an authentic life with Christ means that we stop trying to hide.  I'm not saying that you should reveal everything about yourself to everyone you meet.  But I'm learning that the best way to grow in becoming like Christ is to stop pretending that I already have it all down.

This morning my husband, my son and I went with a group of high-school students from our church to hand out food, blankets and clothes to the homeless downtown.  As I watched my son I pointed out a couple of his reactions to a high-school friend.  I said, "ooh, he's freaking out right now because he's such a germaphobe" and "he's laughing like that because his friend just said something inappropriate."  She responded with "wow, you really know your son."  Like I said, sometimes being known well is a scary thing.  Just like I was doing with my son, Jesus knew my reactions to each person there.  He saw when I noticed that my friend was hugging and comforting a homeless woman in the same way she would comfort and hug me.  He saw the depths of my heart and knew that I didn't want to hug that woman because I didn't want to get dirty.  That's revealing--there's some real dirt in my heart that's way worse than anything I would pick up externally.  He saw when someone commented that some of these people just seem like normal guys.  He knew that our surprise meant that we had drawn that distinctive line between "us" and "them" that keeps us so comfortable in suburbia.  There's no line there in God's vision.  He sees his kids, and he loves us all the same.

So as I was thinking about how scary it can feel to be so well known I realized that the reason it's so scary to me is because I want to be accepted.  That's the beauty of Christ.  Other people might see something they don't like about me and walk away.  He sees the truth about me and it doesn't change how he feels about me.  He still accepts me.  He still loves me.  He comes and puts his arm around my shoulder and walks with me as he helps me to change.  There's no ultimatums, there's no shame or scorn.

I know that there are times when I try to hide from God.  I wall off and try to convince myself that I'm good.  Do you ever do that?   I plan to turn instead into those arms of absolute acceptance and love and allow Him to grow me up into the person only He knows I can be.  Thanks, Jesus, for knowing me so well.

Trusting God With My Daughter

I was thinking today of one of the scariest moments in my early motherhood.  Kayla was not quite 2 years old and we had been to the grocery store.  We lived in a little duplex that sat at the end of a cul-de-sac in a slightly scary part of town.  A huge lawn surrounded our house.  We got home and I took Kayla out of her car seat and took her into the living room where she immediately started playing with her toys.  As she played I unloaded the groceries, walking back and forth past her as I went from the car to the kitchen.  On one trip in I noticed that Kayla wasn't in the living room.  I knew I hadn't passed her outside so I looked through the house.  No Kayla.  It was a 5 room house and I couldn't find her.  I looked in every closet, under every piece of furniture to no avail.  I looked out the front door, back in the car, down the street...she was gone.  I was trying my hardest not to panic as I called and called her name without response.  I knew that there was no way her little tiny legs could have carried her all the down to the next cross-street in the short time she'd been missing so I was afraid someone had taken her.  I circled the house, I searched the yard, all as panic welled up inside.  I finally called Rick and told him she was missing and he said he was on his way.  I was terrified that it was the beginning of a nightmare and since he only worked 5 minutes from the house decided to wait until he got home to call the police.  I kept searching outside, in the storm drains, in the ditches, up the hill into the flowerbed...still no Kayla.  Finally I noticed that the door to our house was closed when I had left it open. I opened the door and there was Kayla, playing in the living room.  And that's when the control I had been fighting to keep during the 10 minutes that she had been missing evaporated.  I picked her up and sobbed as she patted my back.  And because we had thin walls that's when the next door neighbor finally heard me and came over.  Her kids were grown and she hugged us both as I told her that I had lost Kayla and that I had been terrified because she was too precious and I needed to keep her safe etc.  She just listened and then she said "Dawn, you have to give your daughter to God.  You have to trust him to take care of  her or you'll drive yourself crazy."

And so that's what I've done since that day--yeah right.  It wasn't ever an easy thing to do, but that same feeling of panic occasionally wells up in me now that Kayla is living in Ensenada doing Discipleship Training School with Youth With a Mission.  Someone mentions how bad things are in Mexico and I feel it creeping up.  We hear of people who refuse to cross the border because of how unsafe it is and I struggle to maintain my calm.  I feel that same feeling I had that day so long ago of her being too precious to ever imagine losing.  I feel that same desire to hold her in my arms and force her to stay by my side so that I can keep her safe.

But the reality is that I still have to give my daughter to God.  She is an amazingly precious gift that God gave to Rick and I almost 20 years ago.  Not a day goes by that I'm not so thankful for her (for both of my kids).  But the reality is that God loves her infinitely more than I ever could.  And for her whole life we've been raising her to know and follow Christ.  To listen to God's call and respond when he asks her to do something.  And it would be horrible--more horrible than her being in a dangerous setting or even, God forbid, having something happen to her--if she ignored God's leading or even God's prompting in her life because of fear or my inability to trust God with my daughter.   And so with fear and trembling I commit again and say, "ok, Lord, she was yours first and I give her back to you again and I trust you to take care of her."  Pray for me as she follows God and learns what He wants her to do with her life.  Oh yeah, and pray for her too.

Want to read more about Kayla or become part of her support team?  Check out her blog at http://songbirdkayla.blogspot.com/  Oh and do you want to know where she was all those years ago when she was missing?  She told us later that day that she went out into some really tall grass in a ditch and was hiding.  She heard me calling, just didn't think it was important to come.