Focusing on the Weeds

My sister, Diana was visiting in January and said "your garden looks so pretty."  I immediately said, "ugh, there are so many weeds but thanks."  A few weeks later I was sitting outside and I really looked at my garden.  It was beautiful.  We have jokingly called it our "gardening on a budget" project.  When we moved in, it was all ice plant and it was mostly dead.  The soil is rocky and full of clay.  It was so hard that there weren't even many weeds, nothing could grow there. So we ripped out all of the ice plant and started over.  I asked friends for starts and cuttings from their gardens and planted those.  (I also love to shop the garden section clearance at Lowes and Home Depot to see what plants I can rescue.  Then if they don't grow I'm only out a couple of bucks.)   Then we added gypsum and topsoil to soften up the clay.  Over the course of the last 6 years it has transformed into what it is now.   

It wouldn't win any landscape design awards.  But I love to sit outside and watch the birds and look at the flowers.  I love to walk out and see how my vegetables are growing.  I love that I have parsley, Greek and Mexican oregano, sage, thyme, rosemary and mint right outside my door to flavor my meals.  

As I sat outside, I reflected on my response to my sister.  It was a pretty good indicator of my naturally pessimistic bent.  The first thing I saw was the weeds.  I can do the same thing with my life.  When someone mentions how strong my faith is my first thought is about the ways that I'm faithless, the ways that I don't reflect Christ, or the areas where I need to grow.   Philippians 4:8 tells us to focus on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, praiseworthy, and excellent.  4:9 goes on to say that the God who gives us peace will be with us when when we put what we've learned into practice.  


I think it's been pretty easy for me to just accept my natural bent.  When someone calls me a pessimist I argue that I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist.  But do I honor God and the multitude of ways that he blesses me throughout the day by being a realist who sees all the negatives most clearly? As a realist can I change my natural bent to think about the real things that are lovely or admirable or any of the other qualities listed in Philippians 4:8 instead of the negative?  I think if it wasn't possible for everyone that it would just be listed as a suggestion for some people. Instead it's an exhortation, which means that it is advised or urged with a sense of earnestness or urgency.  Obviously, thinking on positive things is important to God.


It all comes down to my choices.  Every situation, every experience, can be viewed through either a positive or negative lens.   I want to be with the God who brings me peace, so I'm going to choose to think on things His way.


How about you?  What do you usually find yourself thinking/focusing on?  

Never Enough

I'm part of the e-devotional team at my church.  Since I haven't posted anything on my blog for a while, I decided to follow my husband's example and post one of the devotionals I recently wrote.  If you want to listen to the message this was inspired by, go to EastLake Church and click on Invitation to a Second Chance Week 2 by Robert Flores.

Never Enough

Read: Galatians 6:4-5 (msg)

Reflect:  I went through a time when I felt like an accurate name for me would be “never enough.”  Everywhere I looked there were people who were more successful, attractive, healthier, better parents, less awkward…It carried over into my Christianity too.  I had friends who were super Christians in my eyes.  One had been on the mission field for several years and was eager for God to call them back (he did 4 years ago).  The other got up at 5 every morning to spend an hour in prayer before her family woke up.  They knew the bible and shared Christ with others better than I did, and I thought I needed to become more like them to please God. 

Pastor Robert reminded us that we can quit trying to be “good Christians” and we can stop comparing ourselves to others.  He emphasized that our right path and a healthy relationship with God has been designed by God especially for us.  It’s not going to look like anyone else’s because we aren’t exactly alike. 

God created each of us with a unique personality and giftings.  He knew us when he called us to follow him.  Whether we are spontaneous or methodical, introverted or extroverted; God has the perfect way to use our uniqueness.  My opinion of myself improved when I started asking God if he was pleased with me and what he wanted me to change instead of comparing myself to others. 

React:  Am I comparing myself instead of embracing the way God created me?  What is one way that I can embrace the unique path God has placed me on this week? 

Pray: God, help me to see myself through your eyes.  Help me to keep taking the baby steps you ask me to take as I walk the path you designed just for me.

Speaking the Truth

It seems funny to follow my last post about my awesome husband with this story, but here goes.  My husband is an extremely honest person.  And by extremely I mean brutally.  So often over the years I've looked at him after he's said something honest and thought, "I can NOT believe you just said that."  My favorite story to illustrate this happened while we were dating.  I needed a new bathing suit and invited him to go shopping with me.  As I tried on bikinis I would come out and show him.  (I know, probably not my wisest decision)  The scenario went like this: 
I would walk out feeling hopeful
He would look me up and down, nod and then say "turn around"
I would turn around
He would shake his head and say "nope"
With the first few suits I just thought it was a bad fit.  But after 10 or so repeats of this exact performance I burst out with "what is so wrong with every suit AFTER I turn around and you see it from the back?  And he told me, without emotion, "they all make your butt look square."
So I calmly said, "oh, ok, thanks for being so honest and helping me find the perfect suit."  WRONG.  I snapped, "well maybe I just have a square butt and shouldn't even buy a bathing suit."  I put my clothes back on, returned all the bathing suits to the rack and we left the mall with tension crawling between us.

In all reality, he is still one of my favorite people to shop with because he is so honest.   But the contrast between us back then was huge.  I hate conflict.  I want everyone to feel good and get along.  So much so that in my younger years I would lie if I thought the truth would hurt someone or cause a rift in a relationship.  I often stuffed my own hurts just so I didn't have to have hard conversations with friends.  I can remember many times when I was angry with one friend or another but when they would ask I would tell them I wasn't mad because I wanted everything to be fine.  So I would pretend or if it happened too often I would end the friendship.  The strange thing is, I thought of myself as a very honest person.  I wouldn't have said that I lied regularly because I thought that all of my lies were for someone's benefit.  As a teen, if I knew that my Mom wouldn't like something I did, I just decided it was best not to tell her.(sorry Mom, just kidding, I really was as perfect as you remember)  If I felt like my opinion wouldn't be in agreement with the friend or group I was with, I just kept it to myself.  If I felt like my struggles would upset someone, I hid them.

Ephesians 4:15 tells us "we will speak the truth in love, growing more and more like Christ."  4:25 goes on to say "So stop telling lies.  Let us tell our neighbors the truth for we are all parts of the same body."  The first time a friend confronted me with this truth in the middle of a small group I wasn't sure how to react.  He called me out by telling me that I wasn't protecting someone else's feelings but was protecting myself from conflict.  He said my lying wasn't helping me or the people in my life.   He was proposing a whole new way to live.  I wasn't sure how it would work but if this was what God really wanted for me I decided to try.  Soon I had the chance.  A friend hurt my feelings and called me later to apologize.  My former response would have been "oh it was fine, I wasn't upset."  But this time I answered honestly and told her that I forgave her but that I had been really hurt by her comment.   We talked it out and life went on.  But I will be honest with you here, learning to live this way wasn't easy.  I would often shake as I was honest about my feelings or responses.  I would still feel sick when I knew I had to have a conversation with someone.  But I also saw my relationships grow deeper, and my relationship with God grew too.

I still don't like conflict and have to overcome that each time I take the step to grow more like Christ by speaking truth in love.  My husband still struggles with blunt honesty but he too is growing more like Christ remembering to say it in love.  Mostly I'm thankful for the friend who cared enough to call me out.  His honesty came out of his love for me as a sister in Christ.  He knew the way I was living wasn't allowing me to be who Christ was calling me to be.

How about you?  How do you do with speaking the truth in love?  Do you struggle with the truth part or the in love part?

A Love Story

Think for a minute about the greatest love story you can imagine.  Movies have shown us amazing romances, with gifts, fancy nights out, perfect words whispered in the perfect tone of voice.  The books I read in junior high always had the man so in love that he couldn't even notice another woman, his words were always smooth and the sex was magical (yep sex books in junior high).  


One of my favorite love stories though, didn't happen in a book or a movie.  It didn't even happen in a romantic setting.  I witnessed it in white hallways filled with the smell of urine, confused elderly people and grumpy nursing assistants.  The summer I worked as a CNA (certified nursing assistant) was eye opening.  I imagined that the people who worked at the nursing home were there because they wanted to serve someone.   And some of them were, so sweet and respectful to the people we cared for; taking the extra time to make sure they had everything they needed, taking the time to listen.  I didn't know that people who didn't care about the little old people would apply for and get a job like that.  So I was shocked when I saw CNA's who were disrespectful, didn't care or were even mean to the people we were supposed to care for.  Often it was just neglect; hair left unbrushed, faces unwashed.  But their was one woman who lived at the home who was always well cared for.  I remember the first morning she was assigned to my care.  One of the more seasoned CNA's said I wasn't ready to take care of her, she would do her care with me so that I would learn to do it right.  She said it wasn't that I wasn't doing a good job but this woman was special.  So we went through the routine.  Everything had to be just perfect.  The right pillows in the right places, her hair brushed just so, her clothes arranged just right.  This woman couldn't do anything for herself, and she couldn't complain if things weren't done just right.  As we went about our routine the other CNA said "her husband will be here in about an hour.  Everything needs to be perfect by then."  


I think I was expecting a tyrant, but I recognized the man when he came because I had seen him every day I had worked so far.  He was just a regular older man, soft spoken.  He came every day and stayed by her side.  He fed her, brushed her long hair and styled it.  He would sit by her chair, his face close to hers and smile into her eyes as he talked to her.  He would touch her face tenderly--his love for his wife was obvious.  He was also fiercely protective.  The soft spoken man disappeared if he arrived to find she hadn't been cared for like she was supposed to be.  He was her voice, her advocate, her defender.   It was almost puzzling, the way he loved her.  She couldn't give him anything anymore.  She couldn't return his tender caress, his words of love.  She couldn't serve him in any way.   


Ephesians 5:25-28 says "Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ's love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring the best out of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They're really doing themselves a favor—since they're already "one" in marriage." (message)  

I don't know if the man was following scripture or just doing what naturally came out of the love he had for his wife.  But I know it impressed me.  And then I forgot about it.  I was 20, independent,  full of plans for an amazing future.  My (future) husband was going to love me but he wasn't going to need to take care of me.  But 24 years later this older man keeps coming to my mind.  I really think the Holy Spirit keeps reminding me of him.  My awesome plans for my future haven't exactly turned out like I thought they would.  And the independence I cherished has faded down to a low point lately as my health problems have brought on symptoms that make me depend on others more than I really ever wanted to.  I never looked at this old couple's relationship and thought "I want that."  


I'm not big on public affection either.  I cringe when I see friends on facebook talking about how awesome their significant other is.  I always think, "just tell them!  Why are you telling all of us?" (and for everyone I just offended, truly it's not you--it's me.  Keep it up if it makes you happy because it truly is my issue.)  For some reason I'm not different than I was back in highschool when I was still 16 and didn't want my friends to know that I really liked Rick Knowles.   But I am going to make myself (and maybe anyone like me) sick for a minute and publicly proclaim that I really like the man that I married.  


Because I can see now that Rick really does love me like that old man loved his wife in the nursing home.  Lately I don't carry my weight around the house, Rick works all day and then comes home and cooks.  He takes me to the doctor, he takes me to the grocery store, he rubs my head and my back, he researches doctors and treatments online and most importantly he prays for me, with me, and tells me over and over that he would pick me again EVEN IF he knew all of the challenges my health would bring into our lives.    He's thankful to have me in his life in whatever state I happen to be in.   When we first started dating I wanted this exotic romance that would take us on adventures around the world. I wanted flowers and diamonds and fancy restaurants.  Instead I see now that those things make great stories and they're probably fun but they're not really what true love is about.   True love is about being there, it's about laying down your own life for someone else.  For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. And that's what Rick does.  So next time you see him, tell him that he's a really nice (older) man and that you really respect and admire the way he loves his wife.  

Where's My Concern?

An old friend of mine posted a heartbreaking video on bullying this week on facebook.  And in the comments one of his friends remarked about how different high school would have been if we could have all just been ourselves.   The post and conversations got me thinking about bullying and the pain of high school.  Not so much reflecting on my own experience but more about reflecting on my cluelessness. 

I think I’m clueless because I don’t have any memories of my friend being bullied.  All I remember is that he was such a nice guy.  I remember that he wasn’t ever mean to me.  I remember liking him so much and I just assumed everyone felt the same way.  And I think that’s why there’s so much pain when you’re bullied.  It’s usually completely undeserved.   You’re just a person who doesn't fit the mold in some way and that makes you a target.  For me, it was that I was tall and skinny and got good grades.  (Or maybe it was because I was a nerd and didn’t know it—ha-ha)  The other thing that I thought about was that part of what was so painful about not fitting in and being picked on is that it always seems like everyone is in on it but you.  Everyone else is cool, everyone feels the way the bully feels about you.  My cluelessness shows that this isn’t always the case.  It makes me think that there were lots of times when I felt like everyone was in on some meanness when in reality most of the school was completely unaware of the target on my back. 

Another friend posted the other day about her son being bullied.  Kids are stealing his things, hiding his school supplies.  Who knows why he’s the target.  And the emphasis was on teaching our children to be kind.  But teaching kindness isn’t enough.   We can teach kindness until we’re blue in the face but without the ability to empathize, it falls on deaf ears.  This takes me back to my cluelessness and the grief I feel about that.    I feel like I’m a pretty empathetic person and this shows that I completely missed some big clues.  So if empathy isn’t the key, and kindness isn't the key, what is?  I don’t have a simple answer.  I remember the pain of my daughter being excluded from a clique for the first time and all of these girls were kind, empathetic girls, one on one.  They had nice parents who taught them the right way to treat people.  But they still specifically excluded her.  I’ve seen my son on both sides of the equation, being labeled or excluded because he didn’t fit someone’s idea of who he should be and I’ve also known how painful it is to watch your child single another child out as the object of his taunting.  He was taught over and over that it was wrong.  It was addressed every time it happened.  Yet he did it anyway.  And if I’m honest I know I’ve done it…I think most of us could remember a time when we joined the crowd and someone else walked away hurting.

Philippians 2:3-5 says, “Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had." (NLT)

I was clueless about my friend being bullied because I was so concerned about myself.  But beyond my selfishness there was one other part (just one—yeah right) part of Jesus’ attitude that I didn’t have and I think it’s absent every time we see cruelty or bullying.  Jesus suspended judgment as he interacted with the world.  Yes, he called people, especially the Pharisees, on their wrongs.  But he knew everyone's heart and he could have walked around excluding everyone who was different from what he KNEW was right, but he didn’t.  He decided instead to walk in love and embrace people right where they were at.  He knew that this kind of genuine love can do far more than bullying can even pretend to accomplish.  He didn’t hang out with a particular type of person; he had friends from every social group.  He didn’t care what other people thought of him because of who he chose to hang around.   I cared.  The opinions of the very people who were mean to me still mattered.  And this concern captured more of my attention and energy than what was going on in the lives of my friends. 

I wish I knew of a simple way to teach this to children, but I don’t.  I guess it needs to start with me.  Really, it needs to start with all of us.  I need to take my eyes off of MY life, MY issues, MYself, and really start seeing others with Jesus’ eyes.  Eyes that are humble, full of love, full of empathy and full of compassion.  I need to drop my attitude and take on Jesus’ attitude that only God’s opinion and priorities matter. 

And to my friend, I’m sorry that I didn’t see when others were bullying you.  If I could go back I would see with new eyes and be a better friend who was aware of what was going on in your life because you matter—both to me and to God. 

The Shift

I was in Junior High and I remember waiting for my Mom to get home from a doctor appointment.  I don't remember being worried about her appointment.  I mean, she was my Mom.  She was the pillar of strength for our whole family.  It was dark when she pulled in the driveway and put the car in the garage.  No one else was home and I walked through the dark family room to unlock the back door for my Mom.  When she walked in she stopped and looked at me.  I asked if she was ok and she said, "I have a tumor." And then she started to cry.  I wrapped my arms around her and held her as she cried.  In that instant something changed in our relationship.  I realized that the woman who was always there for me, the woman who went to every appointment with me and seemed so unflappable was human--just like me.  She had weaknesses and fears and needed my support just as much as I needed hers.

My mom and I have always been close but I truly do think her health crisis that year was key in shifting our relationship.  We weren't sure if the cancer she had fought 10 years before was back, and we were so thankful to learn her tumor was benign.  But post-op complications meant a long recovery and my Dad would pick me up from school and drive me to the hospital where I would sit by her side, do my homework and drink apple juice until I couldn't stand the flavor anymore.  I just knew that I went from the childlike idea of Mom being there every time I needed her to the idea that I was so blessed to have her in my life in whatever capacity she could be there.

I think that's why it is so strange to me that I don't want my kids to have the experience of having a sick Mom.  So often I grieve over the normalcy that they miss in their lives.  They were 10 months and almost 5 when my aorta dissected and their experience has always been the experience of having a mom with serious health issues.  They've both had to deal with a mom who was more fragile, who couldn't do everything other moms can do.  I never felt cheated by having a mom with health issues but over and over I've felt like my own kids got ripped off somehow.

My daughter easily slips into the role of caregiver and so I push against that and push her to go out and live her own life.  But since she's 20 I do lean on her more and confide in her.  She's always been one to call me on my moods and can sense when something isn't right.  I don't try as hard to be strong for her.  But my baby boy is a different story.  This man-boy was the kid that I couldn't do the pretend cry with.  It did him in.  If my daughter wouldn't share I could pretend to cry and she would giggle over how silly I was.  If I did that to my son he would cry too.  He couldn't stand to see me upset.  So I carry that.  I try to put on the brave face for him.  "Here's what the doctor has said, and it's going to be ok."  But he sees the stress and yet I won't let him break out of the sensitive little boy mold that I've locked him into.

Today was different.  I was frustrated after a call from the doctor's office.  The procedure that's supposed to be the first step in hopefully fixing my CSF leak needs to be scheduled.  The urgency I feel doesn't seem to match the doctors' and so I was told that we're going to get this scheduled and that the doctor who will do the procedure is really booked up so it might not be right away and she'll work on it and call me tomorrow.  I've had a steady headache, dizziness, back pain, fatigue, etc since July now.  But it's really been happening intermittently for the past 5 years.  It's obviously not killing me but I'm weary.  So I hung up the phone, sat down to trim beans for dinner and silently started to cry.  And that's when the shift happened.  My man-boy came over and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.  He asked me to talk to him and as I poured out my frustration in the middle of my sobs he held on to me and reminded me, "Mom, God's got this."  He asked me what he could do to help me, and as I leaned my cheek against his big, hairy, man-arms I said "you're doing it."   It's that shift like I had with my mom happening all over again.  Maybe it's a shift that's hardest with your baby.  He's not a little boy anymore.  He doesn't need to be protected and sheltered anymore.  It's ok for him to see that I have weaknesses and fears and that I really need his support just like he needs mine.

My son is right.  God does have this.  Every delay in my treatment can be used for great things.  God taught me something so valuable today that I wouldn't have learned without the delay.  My son is growing into a man who is strong and dependable.  He doesn't need me like he did even 5 years ago.  But what a beautiful thing to start to transition to the relationship that we'll have for the rest of our lives.    Thanks for my son God, and thanks for the lesson.

Worthless?

Weeks ago I was laying flat on my back with a headache.  As Rick, my husband, walked past I said "I feel worthless; I'm just laying here doing nothing."   That was before I got the test results that told me that I have a CSF leak.  You would probably think that finding out that I have the leak made me feel like it was ok to lie around.  But I really don't like lying around. I like to be up and doing things.  I like to be the one serving others.  I like to be active and involved.  And there's really nothing wrong with that.  But in this period of time, many of the things that fed my worth have been stripped away and it's a struggle for me emotionally.

Our society equates worth with what we contribute.  I can remember as a young stay-at-home wife and mother attending business parties with my husband.  Other women would ask me, "What do you do?" My answer that I was home full-time was usually met with a polite dismissing comment and they would excuse themselves to talk to someone who seemed more interesting to them.  I was happy to be home with my kids, but these encounters still stung.  Part of the way I dealt with it was to remember that my contributions weren't financial but they were still important.  And that way of thinking has carried me for a lot of years.  Again, I don't think that it's a bad way to think.

But like God so often does when we're on the edge of the truth, he finds a way to bring me into his center because God doesn't want me to stay on the edge.  All these years I've been justifying my lack of outside employment and how that ties to my worth by looking at all of the ways I contribute through my life.  I could count up hours instead of dollars and I felt good about how much I was pouring myself out to serve others even if I wasn't making any money doing so.  I still felt like I was contributing--to my home, to society, to God's kingdom.

God says my worth comes from who I am and whose I am, not my tasks. I've said I believed that for years.  But if I truly believe that, when my tasks have to slow down or stop, I wouldn't feel worthless.  Scripture over and over talks about worthless idols and often when people are described as worthless it is because of their idol worship.  Am I an idol worshipper?  Maybe, if the idol is being healthy or being the one who jumps to help others.  (Remember an idol is anything that takes the place of honor that should only be reserved for God.  If these things are more important than doing what God asks, they've become idols)

So when I first had to start staying home more and laying around more I thought, "Ok, I'll just be the prayer warrior.  I can't go in and serve but I can be useful by praying like crazy while I'm home."  Again, this isn't a bad thing.  It's awesome to pray for others but my ability to spend time praying for others doesn't give me my worth anymore than a job or volunteering or any task does.  Philippians 3 says, “I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. ⁸ Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ ⁹and become one with him." (NLT)  Christ is the one who gives me my worth.  Not because of anything in me or anything I do, but because of HIM!  Psalm 139:13-15 reminds me that I am fearfully and wonderfully made and again the thing that tells me is that my worth comes from being made by God.  It says "wonderful are your works." Not because we're special on our own but because God is special and he made us.  

So if my worth comes from being created by God and the gift of Christ's righteousness, I can rest in that when I can't do anything else.  When I can't do anything else, I can still love the Lord with all my heart, all my soul, all my mind and all my strength. (Mark 12:28-34) So when I go back to the basic questions; "What gives me my worth? What makes my life worthwhile?" I can fall back on the truth of scripture and remember that there's nothing I can do that will add to what Christ has already done.  I just need to live my life worshiping the one who gave me life and has allowed my present circumstances.  That's a lesson worth learning.