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Will I Ever Learn?

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One of my former professors asked me once what the greatest thing was that I learned in college. After thinking about it for a short time, my response was that I still had so very much to learn. Just when I think I have everything all figured out, when I just know I’m finally right about something, life seems to jump up and knock me off my feet…one more time.

I used to be so much more opinionated than I am now; I guess I really truly thought I had everything figured out. Or maybe I just felt the need to speak my opinions aloud, I don’t know. But whatever the case, as I’ve gotten older I’ve begun to realize that most of the time, my opinions just aren’t that important, because there will always be others who can out argue me, out prove me, or out think me. And do you know what is really, truly important? Not what I think — shocker! — but what God thinks.

I know that we always grow and change, and I hope I’ll continue to realize my need to be teachable. At my new job, I’m still wearing the ‘I’m in training’ badge, and when people ask how long I’ll be in training, I usually tell them “always.” I’ll always have something to learn — from those who think differently, who look different, who are different.

One of the things that showed me just how much I needed to look outside my comfortable box was when I read Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz.  We were on the threshold of sending our oldest daughter to college in the northwest…the crazy, liberal, ungodly northwest. Eeeek!! As I read it, I loved it and I hated it at the same time. I didn’t want to think about seeing my faith from a different angle — it was just too scary and unsure. I was spiritually raised in the south, in the Bible belt, so reading something like that really challenged my faith and I had to ask questions. Yep, QUESTIONS! Sending my baby to the crazy NW, where I wondered if they even spoke English, just seemed like an equally crazy thing to do and had a huge question mark. How could a mother send her daughter straight into a den of wolves? A huge den, at that? What kind of mother would do something like that??

What I started to learn then was something about trust. Wolves are everywhere, even in the Bible belt, and I was over confident that my children, that we all, were “safe” there. I had to come to a place of trust that what she had learned from us would take her into the world (where I know we are supposed to be) with love and respect for others and differences, and yet keep her grounded in who she was and who God was making her.

Now, years later, my sweet girl actually lived through college in the northwest, and I actually lived through her going to college there. She still lives there and is alive and well, and I know she’s being a blessing to those who know her.

But most recently, I’ve begun to question more than what my kids are doing — whether they’re ok moving here or there, or having this relationship or that one. Or even if they’re thinking the same, believing the same, as I do. Not that I don’t look at those things…I always want the best for my kids. But that’s just it. What is best? Where and Who is best? How should I know? I don’t. Yes, I believe God gave these kids to us and us to them. And yes, we have a responsibility to raise them in light of eternity and with wisdom given to us by God. And yes, we spent many hours in prayer for them (and still do). But none of that automatically gives me an enlightened understanding or vision about what they should do or about how they will live. Whenever they struggle or question life or God or what is right, I struggle with them.  I know without a doubt that God can handle their struggles, way better than I can. But then the questions start to come back: questions about my own faith and understanding of how I’m supposed to live and love.

And now I’m at a point where I’m having to trust that what God has done in my own life, with my own faith, will keep me grounded as I learn to appreciate people right where they are – and for who they are. That over-confidence I had with my daughter, and that at times I’ve had with all my kids, that ‘safety zone’, I’ve also had with my own way of thinking. I thought I was good at loving others; and it’s easy to do when most of them think the same way I do. But I’m beginning to learn that there is a difference between what I thought about people, how I thought I loved them, what I secretly expected of them, and what is truly true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and praiseworthy. I see and work with people everyday who are very different from those I’ve chosen to shelter myself with. And I really really want to love them, right where they are, in that Philippians 4 kind of way.

I’ve continued to ask questions and learn to love others who are different than I am… a lot different. And that is a good thing. Thank heaven they aren’t all like me…oh the thought!

I’ve begun to question what I’m doing…and why I’m doing it. Not question the validity or importance of what I’m doing — but how to be truly honorable — toward God and others, and why I’ve been placed where I am. And tying it all together is tough; learning how to stand for Truth in a completely non-compromising way while loving and accepting others right where they are – no judgement, no requirements, no expectations.

I wouldn’t trade any of my life, because I know without a doubt that God has orchestrated every corner, every situation, every person. If I could, I might change some of the things I’ve done, that I’m not proud of. Because I know I could have been kinder, more merciful, more loving, more graceful. Those are the virtues I learn again and again every day, and I hope I’ll be worthy of them and able to impart them to those around me – today, with whomever I may meet, with those I work with, with those I’ll run into at the coffee shop or at work or at church or at the food bank.

And I hope I’m worthy of what they have to teach me, because I still have so, so much to learn.

People-purpose

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For the first time in a very long time, I’ll be starting a job away from home. A real job, working with the public. Working with other people who are working with the public. Oh, I’ve done a few jobs in recent years that I did away from home, but the schedule was completely flexible, my ‘office’ was small and quiet, and I was rarely away from my kids. Home schooling didn’t go down the drain, my family didn’t fall apart (although there were times I did), and life pretty much went on as usual. But now we’re in a different season; our ‘normal’ is going to change. Yep, there will be times when these people who live at my house are going to wonder what hit them – and times when I’ll wonder the same.

There will be a learning curve, and I think I’m up for it. But it will mean more than just learning about a new job – it will mean learning again how to interact with the zillions of personalities out there, the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between.

And it’s one of those times when I’ll need to remember where to put my trust. Whether I know someone well or have never laid eyes on them, I need to remember that I don’t see the big picture. Not at all. I don’t know what others are going through or what kind of day they are having – what crisis is taking place in their hearts or lives. So I hope and trust that my responses will be the kind that could make a positive difference in their day – that maybe they are the reason I’m there, working with or talking to them. And that is true about the customer or the kids, the co-worker or the husband. I need to remember, daily, that I am where I am for a purpose – a ‘people-purpose’ – and I need to trust, for that moment in time, that I may be standing in part of the picture that may change the perspective for the person in front of me.

Isn’t that what life is about? Relationship. So often, relationships are hard work – some more work than others – and if we’re honest, some we’d rather not do at all. But when they’re right in front of us, it really isn’t our choice; we just try to make them work the best way we can. That means with those we see often and those we may just talk to on the phone. Family, friends, co-workers, regular customers, or people only needing a refund. Relationship looks different with every person.

Those I’ve had a long time are always changing, and hopefully growing; those that are new are sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes intimidating, sometimes comforting and encouraging, sometimes challenging. Sometimes they’re downright scary! But I know we’re all in this world of relationship for a higher purpose, and the way I choose to interact and respond could be the difference between grace and peace or confusion and pain for the one standing there.

Relationship is what we were made for. So as I walk through each day, I pray I’ll be faithful to keep my eyes focused on the One who sees the whole picture – that I’ll be a blessing to someone each day. Because we all have a place in eternity, and our true job, whether at home or in the local retail store, is to shine a light on the picture and trust the One who knows where we belong in the canvas.

Sensitive and Deep

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“I should have been a great many things, Mr. Mayer.” Jo March

Sometimes, I think I missed my calling.

Actually, maybe I missed more than one:

  • In 6th grade, I was going to be an actress.
  • In 9th grade, I was going to be a singer. And I fell in love with Dan Fogelberg.
  • In 11th grade, I was going to be a philosopher. No, I was a philosopher. I wrote “poetry” and prose and recorded all of my save-the-world plans. I even wrote down in numerous journals all of the emotions and oh so deep thoughts that I just knew very few people had ever had in the history of the world. I even sat in a tree with my guitar and sang John Denver songs for hours at a time. IN A TREE! JOHN DENVER! (My mother loved that one and told that story for years).
  • At one point, I even had the idea that having a nudist colony would be the answer to ridding society of shallowness. Oh brother!
  • In college, I was going to work with special needs children. (Looks like I’m making progress on saving the world here).
  • Later in college, I wanted to work in the inner city with the poor. Not only work with them, but live there and love them to Jesus.
  • After college, I came really close to working in a school in Belize, ministering to and teaching children in a poor village. (Getting closer!).

A lot of years have come and gone since my aspiring actress days and those sensitive and deep high school journals. I’ve been so busy doing so many other things than what I thought I’d do that I haven’t had time to regret not following through on all the things I dreamed about. I ended up working at a camp, loving on kids and seeing their lives changed. (I also worked with horses, but their lives didn’t change very much). During those summers, I acted, sang, taught philosophy, cried with and hugged children who were rich in material things but poor in spirit. I met the man I married. I had five children, began homeschooling, built and lived in a country cottage, and learned how to garden. I delivered meals to shut-ins and volunteered with a local food and assistance ministry.  I went on mission trips to poor villages and helped build houses, community centers, and a school.

So I guess all in all, I have been a great many things. My calling didn’t change, and I never missed it. I changed and began to live what I was truly called to, without even knowing it.

My heart-song is of gratefulness  – thanksgiving for all the challenges, laughter, tears, late into-the-night discussions about life, all that I’ve taught, all that I’ve learned, and all that is still out there for me to learn. I know we are always called to be sensitive to the needs of others, to praise of God, to learn and grow in grace, to give those around us a taste of beauty. To share the depth and breadth of God’s love.

I still listen to Fogelberg – but I’m so very thankful that I didn’t try to follow through on the nudist colony. The world is a much, much better place because of it!

Dedicated to Sue, my dear friend and one of the most sensitive and deep people I know.

Beauty

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I love beauty. Profound, I know. But I think I’m learning what it really means – to love beauty. We all enjoy the obvious: the fiery sunset, the budding rose, the ringing laughter of a toddler. But what about the part of life that seems so other?

Because there is beauty in Other.

It’s all around us, even in the seeming ugliness of life…in the homeless man on the street corner, or the gnarled hands of an old woman, or the orphan wondering  if she’ll ever have a forever family. At first glance, they seem sad and lonely and tragic – and they are – but underneath is beauty that those of us on the outside looking in can’t see. The street-corner-man’s longing for something better, wanting to connect with someone. Those worn and tired hands the result of years of hard work and determination born out of love and care of family. The tears of the orphan reflecting the hope for a forever family as she wonders if they are out there for her. There is depth in these faces and lives. Longing. Love. Hope. Beauty.

As I grow older, I seem to relate a little, even remotely, to those sad scenarios that catch my breath when I see them. Because God has a Purpose for each of us, no matter how seemingly insignificant or lonely — and we share that — Purpose. No, I haven’t been homeless or crippled or orphaned – but in the Eternal, whether recognized or not – is Light and Life and Hope.  And somehow there is a connection with them, something that transcends the obvious differences. Depth. Beauty.

There is beauty in my desire to be part of that Hope. Even if it only means sharing a cup of cold water in the night or wiping away a tear. It is all around us, whether we see it or smell it or feel it, because God is there. And He sends it to us in small ways, in the hard realities that hit us in life. We only have to look for it and receive.

This Christmas

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Every year, my children ask me what I want for Christmas (or Mother’s Day or my birthday). And every year I pretty much say the same thing — I just want all of us to be together and enjoy one another. They dutifully roll their eyes and ask me again. And I say the same thing – again. Well, I’m saying it one more time, in writing: I DON’T WANT ANYTHING FOR CHRISTMAS! Other than being together.

But I’m going to add something, and hopefully I’ll feel the same way next year and the next and the next. I want each of them to give whatever they might think about spending on me to a true need.

This year, I hope my children will give something with eternity in mind. That is what I truly want for Christmas. So here are some ideas:

alarm-inc.org

showmercy.org

girleffect.org

mercyships.org

orphanreliefandrescue.org

love146.org

notforsalecampaign.org

thementoringproject.org

All of the above organizations are doing great things – helping children and young women get free from trafficking, working with orphans and children who were born with aids, doing medical miracles, building wells in third world countries, helping widows who lost their husbands start businesses, training leaders in war-torn countries, mentoring at-risk boys.

And in the midst of loving these children and families with food, shelter, medicine – they love them enough to introduce them to a God who loves them more than anything.

I’m not getting legalistic about this…I’m really not. I love Christmas – I love making cookies for people, watching Christmas movies, decorating my house to give it that festive feel, drinking eggnog, listening to Christmas music – making our home a welcome place. We’ve done the traditional Christmas thing, with gifts and Santa, although we’ve tried to keep Jesus as the true reason for Christmas and the center of why we do what we do.  We wouldn’t have Christmas without Him.

And I don’t expect anyone else to feel the same way about getting gifts as I do. It’s just time for me to follow the message that’s been working on my heart.

I truly have a wonderful life…that I can enjoy the Christmas season in these ways is such a blessing. That I can have family together, enjoying one another is a treasure. The time we spend together, the time we invest in others, has eternal value. This year, I want to share that eternity.

Help

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I just finished reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett, and oh what a book! The emotion I felt, almost from the beginning, caught me by surprise. But it didn’t take long for me to understand those feelings, because I was a child of 1960s Mississippi — I lived that story. We had full time “help” in our home…I was one of the children eating her cooking, dirtying the house she cleaned, hearing her phone conversations. We weren’t wealthy at all, but living in small town Mississippi just south of Jackson made my mother feel the need to keep up with the neighbors, and having Help was what anyone who was anyone did.

I recently met a childhood friend for lunch, someone I hadn’t seen in about 40 years. We had a delightful time, catching up on life, reminiscing about our childhood in Mississippi. She lived there long after our family moved away (never to have full time help again – for us, it was just a Mississippi thing), and she experienced things that I still have a hard time believing truly happened, still happen, in today’s times. She enlightened me about some of the events that occurred during that 1960s-Civil Rights-Small-Town time in MS – some while we lived there, some in later years – and I realized for the first time just how insulated we were as children. I’m sure my parents knew about those things, things that often happened on the “other side of the tracks”; or as I learned through my friend, often happened on “our side”, because in many homes the Help weren’t welcome outside of working hours or their work environments.

Many years later, when my family – including my mom – was passing through our small Mississippi town, I wanted to call our “Help” and take her out to dinner. I hadn’t seen her in about 25 years, and I wanted her to meet my husband and children. As a child I loved Lou, not unlike Skeeter loved Constantine.  So I looked through the phone book, randomly calling numbers that might help me find her. I eventually found an address and went to her house. What a great reunion! As she answered the door and saw me, she yelled, “Is that my baby??” Not that she recognized me…I’m sure someone gave her a heads up that I was looking for her. We visited an hour or more, but she wouldn’t let us take her out. My mom told me later that she didn’t go with us because “it just isn’t done here.” What were we doing that shouldn’t be done? Eating out in small town Mississippi with someone from the other side of the tracks.

I laughed and cried while reading The Help – and while visiting with my childhood friend. My memories of that time are warm and nostalgic. I loved Lou, not because she helped us with cleaning and cooking and ironing, but because her real help was with life, leading and teaching me to become a good person. She truly loved me, and all these years later she’s stayed in my heart. If she were here today, I’d invite her out for a meal. But if that didn’t work, I’d do all I could to be her help. I’m thankful that, unbeknownst to any of us at the time, we were learning a much deeper and greater lesson about life. I hope I can help pass that lesson on.

My House

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So I’m trying to sell my house. I KNOW this is a bad time to sell anything, much less a house. But my house is special. I’ve raised 5 children here, entertained a zillion friends of all ages, taught and learned and read and played music here. I’ve gardened here and learned all about antique roses. We have a pet cemetery on a hill under a tree with numerous family friends who’ve come and gone. My children hosted neighborhood carnivals here, and the trail they forged from Grandma’s house next door is still there. We’ve played here, cried here, loved here. I home schooled my kids here (and I learned just as much as they did, if not more). My husband built our house from the ground up, along with help from friends, and together we’ve made it home.

Truth be told, I really don’t want to sell my house. My family moved around a lot when I was growing up, and since I was painfully shy, those moves weren’t easy, and I don’t have fond memories of them. Being in this house as long as we have has given me roots and a sense of contentment and stability. I’d just as soon grow old and die here as move anywhere. But I need to be where my husband is…and I believe that God is working to take us out of our comfort zone because He has other plans in another place – and maybe in another house.

When my brain cells are working in a semi normal state, I begin to understand that maybe not everyone wants a house 15 miles from the nearest WalMart; and maybe they don’t want to take care of a yard, and they don’t care about having a cottage garden. Not everyone likes having a country dog or an in-ground trampoline. So it seems, with the way things are right now, that my house won’t sell. But how are things, really? Only God knows that. So my house will sell, at the right time and to just the right person.

Who knows? Maybe it will go to someone with a green thumb who wants to learn about antique roses. I hope so.roses3

Saying goodbye…

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I went to have a cup of coffee with my mom this morning; instead, I said goodbye—for the last time. I went to see her, knowing that she hadn’t been well, and when I arrived, she was unconscious and couldn’t be roused. I know she could hear me, because when I called her name, she tried to answer—and when I told her to “wake up” she groggily said “I’m awake.” But she couldn’t open her eyes or even move her head. I didn’t know at the time that she was saying goodbye to life as she’d known it for 90 years.

The other day, a friend asked me how I want to die. I hadn’t expected the question, so my answer was somewhat thoughtless; “Quickly” was my response. Not that I necessarily want to die soon—but when it’s time, I want to go quickly, not linger knowing what’s inevitable. He gave us (his class…I was visiting a favorite professor from college) a challenge by telling us the story of his dad—how when he found out that he had only a couple of months to live, he decided to spend the time “saying goodbye” to friends and loved ones, drinking coffee, catching up—maybe doing whatever was necessary for him and the others to feel as if they were finishing well with their relationships and enjoying what time was left.

I thought about that a lot, and I like it. I also thought about my response to his question, and I think I’ll stick with my answer. But I think I’ll amend it a bit and take up his challenge this way: I hope that before I die, whenever that is, I’ll feel as if my relationships are healthy and enjoyable and as caught up as possible in today’s fast-paced world. I hope I can be a blessing to those around me, and in turn be blessed because of others, whether I see them regularly or never again. I hope I’ll be able to live and finish well with each of them, whether they’re a mile away or a continent. And I hope I’ll feel “comfortable” with death knowing that I’ve lived as unto the Lord and that I’ll go to a better place.

I guess I just want to have the confidence of knowing that all is right with the world in my relationships. I want the people I love to know how grateful I am for each of them and that I cherished every minute with them—and that those cups of coffee we shared meant more than just having a hot drink.

So I said good-bye to my mom…not over coffee, as I would have liked—but I hope she was ready, with enough pots of coffee behind us to know that we were all caught up and finishing well.

A true testimony

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I love my teenagers…and their friends. I’ve learned a lot from them over the years, and I hope that maybe I’ve taught them a thing or two. One thing I’ve heard more than once from some of them goes something like this – “I’ve just followed the rules all my life, and if I don’t experience things for myself, I’ll never learn, and I won’t be able to help others.” They equate “experiencing life” with having a dramatic testimony, the I-did-drugs-and-now-I-don’t or I-once-had-an-eating-disorder-and-I’ve-been-healed kind of testimony; and they seem to think they need that kind of testimony in order to be effective. And while it’s true that anything in life we experience can be used by God to help others in similar situations, I feel as if there’s an even more dramatic testimony, one that is harder than any other.

When Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, He didn’t fall to any of the temptations the enemy tried to hand Him. Nope, not one — He walked away, following the perfect will of the Father. He knew who He was and WHOSE He was, so His ability to walk away showed a depth of relationship and strength of character that anyone would envy. And He had the ammunition He needed for protection…God’s Word. He walked that line unwavering, the line that we as sinful humans just don’t want to follow. We’d rather tell people about how we drifted from it and then recovered our step, thanks to God’s work in our lives.

But how many of us would ooh and aah over someone who actually walked in obedience and didn’t waver? I would, for one. Not that anyone would always stay on track at all times – most of us have chosen badly, paid hard consequences (some harder than others), eventually recovered, and lived to tell about it. And all that is part of life. But the most “dramatic” of all – the one that demonstrates depth and strength and true overcoming – is the one that follows Jesus; the one that stays strong during temptations; the one that walks that straight line; the one who may not have any spectacular worldly events to tell. The one who knows who he is and WHOSE he is, and lives to tell about it…THAT is the true testimony.

Winding down, but close to my heart

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It’s hard to believe that I’m down to my last few years of “formally” teaching my children – my youngest will be 11 tomorrow, and as I was working on school organization today, I had a mix of emotions rise up more than once. I know there are still several years left, but it feels weird to actually be winding down. It seems like yesterday when those middle-of-the-night panic attacks hit me, afraid that my children would never learn to read…

But we have had some wonderful years home schooling! I’ve saved so much of their work – papers written and corrected, artwork, poems, favorite books – and everything I look at brings back sweet memories. Most of them are simple, non dramatic, times no one else in the world, including my kids, would think at all significant. Any many of them probably weren’t. But they are in my heart as part of the fabric of my life — Davy sitting at her desk working on her Texas history newspaper; 4 year old Bo excitedly running into the room after he’d seen a blimp fly over the house, and not knowing what it was, drawing a picture for me; Erin drawing her sweet love pictures to me; Alyx memorizing The Swing; Cassie as a baby, sitting right beside us during all the activity.

Oh, it hasn’t always been easy…the piano being played always at the worst time -at least for someone; many tears over math; frustrations over siblings being too noisy; and never having enough time. Did we ever finish anything? Probably not. But we made so many valuable memories.

I’m so very grateful and blessed to have had these years, and I look forward to the few years left. What a privilege. I know I’ll feel a sadness, like I did today, when it actually does come to an end. But I also know that I have a wealth of remembrances to warm my heart, and every one is a treasure.