The Domino Theory

It's award show season.  The Grammys are done, so the next big-ticket awards show is the Oscars.  Mostly, I like to watch to check out the clothes and hair.  Sadly, I usually have not seen most of the films up for Oscars, so it does not matter much to me who wins and who loses.

Nevertheless, when a "winner" mounts the podium, he or she is allowed the obligatory 30 seconds in which s/he can thank or express admiration for whomever s/he feels has helped him/her to the big moment.  Most people get into trouble because their list is far too long; they just don't have enough time to name all the necessary people.  That's the way of it in life.  You can't think just one person.  Like Hillary Clinton said, "It takes a whole village to raise a child." (I don't think the line was originally hers, but you get the idea).  That gets me to thinking about who I admire.

Like the majority of people, I can't just stop at one person.  Typically, when I admire someone, I admire something about the person.  To explain, s/he has a character trait that I admire and aspire to be in my own life. Let me show you what I mean.

Not surprisingly, I admire my husband. Nope, I don't have to say that, and he would probably never guess that I would say that.  Mike, for all practical purposes, is the exact opposite of me even though we agree on the big things in life (i.e values).  Where I am a spastic, neurotic perfectionist, he is Mr. Chill.  That's not to say he doesn't get bent out of shape about things, but for the most part, he just takes life as it comes. 

I admire the fact that he can lie down or settle in to watch mindless TV for a half hour without feeling an ounce of guilt.  He has come to know and understand the value of rest.  Batteries have to be re-charged, and he has no problem taking the time to do that - guilt-free.

I suppose it's narcissistic of me to say so, but I admire him because he loves me.  I am a jerk.  I can be so self-involved, inflexible, and loud. . . but he still loves me anyway. . and tell me that frequently.  He also thinks I'm good-looking, which I totally do not get.  I'm fat, 40, and saggy, but Saturday night, Rick, Rhonda, Brandon, Mandi, Mike and I were all squashed into Famous Dave's, waiting for a table.  Mike was behind me about two or three people, and I was looking at the diners.  Suddenly, my phone vibrates with a text message.  It's Mike; he had texted, "You look so sexy."  Really?  After 20 years of marriage?

I also admire my friend, Amy.  She is reserved and respectable.  She is able to maintain her integrity because she keeps her mouth shut.  That's not to say she isn't effective.  When a question is posed, she will thoughtfully consider it, and with brevity and wisdom, will present a response that will cause all listeners to sit back and say, "Oh, she's right."  That's what I love about her - quiet strength and wisdom.

It will be two years ago now that she was battling breast cancer.  I'm sure she had horrible days, but I never saw that side of her.  She remained poised, positive, and absolutely focused in her faith.  She was "grace under pressure" in practice.  What a sermon her life has been.

Even though she is a very different woman than what I once knew, I admire Grandma B for the most part.  She and I are so much alike, and I guess I recognized that fact at any early age.  I loved Grandma, and I loved being around her.  I used her as a role model in my own spiritual habits.  Now, I'm not so sure if that was a good thing, but I still admire her for the influence she had on my life.

I admire Grandma Ryks, who has been dead for over twenty years.  I never thought I would miss her as much as I do.  I admire her sweetness, her kindness, and her gentleness.  Whenever I am baking, I am reminded of her.  I have her "baking stool" near my kitchen; every time I see it, I am reminded of her sitting on the stool, mixing up a batch of cookies.  I ache for the ability to have just five minutes more with her. 

I admire my parents for sacrificing so that I could attend private school and have a solid base for my faith.

I admire my cousin, Lisa, for her persistene in spite of her health issues.  Even though it iconfuses me at times, I also admire her commitment to her family - extended and immediate.

I admire Rhonda for her generous heart.  Everything she has she shares with others, especially her lake place.  Even though she might want a weekend to herself just to relax and get away from it all, she (and Rick) are always inviting people.  Likewise, I admire her self-control.  I have never seen her get un-glued. Never. And I have never heard her utter a curse word. Never.

I admire my friend, Sher, for opening her heart and home.  She and Senez bent over backwards and sacrificed greatly so that Sheldon could be a part of their family.  And now, Nkia has joined the brood too.  What a living testimony.

I admire Pastor Paul of AG church who does not think of his calling in terms of salary, benefits, hours, and responsibilities.  He is a full-time pastor in every sense of the word.  His ministry extends far beyond the walls of a church. 

I could go on and on and on by referencing friends, students, students' parents, colleagues, etc.  Most everyone I meet impacts me in some way - both good and bad (as in helping make the decision NOT to follow in his/her footsteps).  Our lives are just so interconnected, and that's how God intended it to be.  We were not meant to live in isolation, but together.  Likewise, we are each wired uniquely and specifically for this place and time and purpose  (Psalms 139).

I'm not going to lie; I frequently lose sight of that truth.  I feel purposeless, and I have even argued with God that it's ok for Him to admit that He made a mistake in making me - everyone does it - but that can't possibly be true when I consider how each of us impact another.  We are all specially pre-determined dominoes who have been specifically placed for a purpose.  God juxtaposes people for His plan.  Each talent, interest, and yes, deficit is uniquely aligned with another of His children, so that His Will may be done.  I think God smiles when we admire traits in one another because a) He put them there - we are enjoying His handiwork, and b) as believers, we are recognizing God in others, which brings glory to Him, and everybody wins.  The sin is when we recognize and celebrate the trait in others by disparaging the lack of it in our own lives.  Our focus moves from Him to us; hence, sin.

I was thinking about this domino theory thing the other day after I had been talking to Amy.  She has a friend named Mary, and Mary grew up Catholic but isn't so hot on the whole church/religion thing.  In the past, Mary has challenged Amy regarding spiritual issues, and the "sparring" usually leaves Amy exhausted. . .but Mary always keeps coming back for more.

Enter into this scene, Pastor Paul from AG.  Pastor Paul makes weekly or bi-weekly (can't remember) visits through the establishment where both Mary and Amy work.  He visits them both.  Recently, after visiting Mary, she requested a Bible from Paul, which he gladly obliged.  Later, he went to visit Amy and told her what happened and encouraged her to continue her conversations with Mary.

See?  Mary, Paul, and Amy are their own Godly dominoes branch.  God aligned them specifically for this time and place, and each are being obedient to His plan.  There are no accidents, and even when we can't see to the end of the dominoes row, we can be encouraged to know that a loving, conscientious hand has placed us in just the right spot to make a contribution to the game.

Clawing Out of a Rut

Just out of curiousity this evening, I was digging around in my nightstand, reading through my old journals.  The oldest entries that I've found were from 1993, but I'm guessing I'd find more if I kept digging.  I've got something like ten notebooks that are just full of this or that, and as I was reading, I noticed that most of them are similar to what I've been doing almost exclusively in this blog - writing about my faith.  So the question that comes to mind is "Why have I not gotten it all figured it out by now?"

I whine a lot; why is that? I tend to focus exclusively on my shortcomings.  I notice that I rarely, if ever, talk about the things that have gone well or smoothly.  As a perfectionist, I suppose that the shortcomings are the nuisances in life that must be addressed - the imperfections that are now a new project.  Usually, these projects are not quite successes, not quite failures.

One such project that I've been addressing since 1993 (I read my entry about when I first discovered I was pregnant with Nick) is parenthood.  Even back then, I worried about the kind of parent I would be.  In November of 1993, I was awash with worry about whether or not to take the full-time position after Bill Rubis retired in January.  I was concerned about others "raising" my child since he would be in day care more.  Pfft.  If only I could have slapped my newly-pregnant self and said, "Shut up, girl.  The worst is yet to come."

Yeah, this parenting gig sucks. Not gonna lie.  It's freakin' hard work with nothing to show.  Let me give you an example.  Last week was not a pleasant parent week anyway, and by Thursday, the tension between me and Child #1 was wire-thin.  We had gone to a meeting, and after the meeting, he torqued me further by (what I thought was rudely) asking for money to pay off his ski trip balance.  He claimed that he had texted me the previous evening, which may or may not have been true, but he knew full-well that I had given up my cell phone for the three day fast.  That set the detonator in motion.

Mike and I got home to see that Nick's car tire and the spring thaw had connected rather violently, resulting in a deep gouge in the lawn with a six foot spray of black mud on the camper.  He had tried, rather unsuccessfully, to amend the situation by whiping the mud off with a. . .white. . .towel that had been carelessly flung on the garage floor.  Had he bothered to mention it at the meeting?  Why, no, no he didn't.

Therefore, when he and Erika got home, the bomb blew, and I mean, it blew.  I won't describe all the details, but suffice it to say that I acted in a way of which I am not proud, and I stormed out of the house for an impromptu drive around the lake to cool off.

It didn't work.

When I got home, there were more fireworks, and Nick took off for a walk.  When he got home, we had a come-to-Jesus meeting in which both of us put all our cards on the table. It was raw, emotional, and heart-breaking, but important things were said. Things were good for about two days. . .and now, we're back at square one.

My main beef is being treated so disrespectfully.  I guess I don't mind him (or her) speaking his (their) mind because I'd rather have all the cards on the table vs. working with some sort of subterfuge, but still.  I hate finding out about their lives from other people, particularly friends' parents.  I hate the fact that they feel as though any quesions I may ask are intrusive.  Nick even said, "Why do you have to ask so many questions? I'll tell you what you need to know."  Why is it so bad for a mom to want to talk to her kids?

I guess what I was getting at originally was the concept of ruts.  When things are going well, obviously, it is stupid to continue to do things the same since nothing will ever change. There is no doubt I keep falling into various ruts over and over. . .there's one for my career; there's one for church; there's one for marriage, and of course, the most aggravating one of all is the rut of parenting.

When I am in the rut, it's a miserable place to be.  It's dark, so naturally, the only person I see, and the only perspective I can consider it my own, or me.  Likewise, the walls of the rut are so insurmountable.  All I see around me are tall, dark, sticky, mud-covered barriers blocking my path toward progress.  I can't get out, I can't see a way out, and I'm too beaten down to even want to apply any energy to try.  Worse, I feel lonely, and as it has been proven with my life, loneliness breeds self-involvement.

Then, suddenly, I see a crack in the wall, and I get a foothold (such as the come-to-Jesus that Nick and I had on Thursday night).  Little by little and with great mental exertion, I find a way out of the rut. 

As I stand above ground, I move away from the pit.  I don't even want to look back into the abyss because it's just been too painful in that rut.  Yup, I know the pain was for a reason, but I'm not stupid.  I certainly don't want to revisit it.  I take a deep gulp of fresh air while above ground, taking in a renewing breath, ever hopeful that this time is it; I will never fall back into that hole again.  I can move forward.

As I take a step forward, just inching my toes (taking a long stride would just be too arrogant), I try to move in the direction I must go.  Then, suddenly, those few, calculating inches have been a mistake.  I was too close to another rut, and over the edge I topple into a new one, only to start the whole process over again.

So here's the dilemma. I know that in order to move forward and progress and change, a person cannot keep doing what she's been doing.  According to Bill J, that's insanity (it's one of his favorite phrases, by the way).  What happens if you can never leave a rut?  Just about the time, you leave one, you fall into a new one, and if that's the case, how will you ever find the road to change if you can never get out of the rut? 

Here's the deal.  I love my kids.  They piss me off beyond all belief.  They aggravate me to no end, and they are disrespectful.  They are slobs, they are inconsiderate (of me and their dad), and they are unbelievably selfish. . but I love them. From what I understand, they are fairly decent and respectful to everybody else. . .except us.  They don't do drugs, they don't drink, they don't curse (at least, not in front of us), they go to church (willingly), they go to church events (willingly), and they are trying to live out their faiths.

So, what's my issue?  Rejection is an awful thing.  I have struggled with it my whole life.  When I was rejected by my church, I was stung and wounded, but I can distance myself from them as needed.  When I'm rejected at school, it stings, but I find comfort in knowing that I'm doing the best I can under the circumstances given to me.  When I'm rejected by family, I know that I can control that just like church.  I cannot tolerate being rejected by my kids.  "Rejected" is such a harsh word; unappreciated is probably more accurate.  I do not like the feeling of being so distance and dispensable in their lives. 

Everyone assures me that things will change.  Someday it will all come full-circle, and they will appreciate me and all I've done for them.  We'll see. . .it's gonna be a while before I can comment on that for sure.

The Only Thing to Fear is Fear Itself

I Samuel 17:32-40, 50. . . “’The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine’. . . Then Saul dressed David in his own tunic. . . ‘I cannot go in these,’ he said to Saul, ‘because I am not used to them.’ So he took them off. . . .So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him.”

The writer of the devotion that I read about these verses this morning talked about the fact that David had to remove stuff in order to be successful for God. Saul tried to give David his armor as protection, but all it did was slow him down, so David took it off. To everyone there, I am sure that this decision seemed like madness, sure failure, definite death. But David’s confidence was in God. He didn’t falter at all. He had seen the ways in which God had helped him in the past, and he knew that God wasn’t going to leave him now.

One hundred per cent confidence and trust in God lead David to success. In fact, he took OFF all that was perceived to be helpful and protective, which only emphasized his complete and total trust in God. It reminds me of the verse, Hebrews 12: 1, “. . .let us throw OFF everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus. . .”

So it gets me to thinking, what do I need to take off in order to force me to be 100% all in for God? What am I using as a “protective” barrier that is actually keeping me from doing what I’m supposed to do?

Let’s see. . .I see a lack of 100% forgiveness. Oh, whenever I get ticked off at someone or something that’s happened in the past, I pray for the person, and I say, “I forgive you.” As I mentioned in an earlier blog, this is my goal. . .to practice the 70 x 77 thing. . .with the intention that if I say it and repeat it enough, it will become reality. Withholding forgiveness is my way of protecting myself, as backward as that may sound. If I remind myself of what has happened in the past. . .to be cautious of this or that person, the chances of being wounded again decrease.

The downside to that is that I never. Let. It. Go, which allows bitterness and anger to seep into my inner most being. Neither are conducive to growth. In fact, it causes me to stagnate or go backwards.

Here are two realities with regard to the situation. A) These people have no clue that they have hurt me or affected me. Life is “doo-ti-doo” to them – it continues, and they are oblivious. So while I’m so busy nursing this wound, the only person truly “feeling” it is me. I am punishing myself for something that they did, which is just pure stupid. It doesn’t change the situation; it just changes me, and not in a good way. . .B) forgiveness does not require forgetting (I realize that there may be those who disagree, and that’s ok, but I’ve thought this through). In my opinion, to even suggest that forgetting it is asinine. If your arm gets cut off, and it’s the most incredible, life-changing event, you don’t just forget it. There is a reminder for the rest of your life; this is a physical wound/dismemberment. I don’t think emotional wounds and dismemberments are different. You don’t just forget or suppress a huge hurt; that just leads to more problems in the future. The deal with forgiveness is that it’s a choice. Yup, you remember what happen. . .yup, it hurt like hell. . . yup, it affected your life. . . but in spite of it all, you are CHOOSING to forgive. You will always remember what happened, which isn’t bad to my way of thinking. God was aware that it was happening, and He allowed it to happen; therefore, that event was crucial, critical even, in developing you into the person He wants you to be. Forgetting the event is not required; turning the angst, bitterness, and anger into forgiveness is required. That’s what God did for us, and that’s what He expects of us as His children. He’s done the role-modeling (as a good parent will do); it’s now our turn to mimic what we see.

What other “security blankies” are barriers? Getting involved with others, I suppose. I prefer to keep my distance from people, largely because it protects me from the possibility of disappointing them or having them disappoint or hurt me in some way. In considering my history, it’s clear that I’m an uber-sensitive person who tends to get her feelings crushed without anyone noticing. Those wounds hurt badly (see above paragraphs), and I don’t want that feeling replicated, so I keep my distance. It’s easier to stay away.

Besides, people are messy. They are a jumble of personality characteristics, memories, goals, preferences, etc. Trying to get all this stuff to mesh together is messy. It requires time, patience, and sometimes, money. In short, it’s a lot of work, and what do you actually get out of it?

Here’s the downside to thinking like that. . .first, when I isolate myself from other people, I get myself in a bad place in a hurry. When there is only one thought about situations (mine), and there is only one person who is digesting and analyzing the situation (me), then, I lack something very critical, which is perspective. Of course, what I’m thinking must be right and true because, hey, the only person who would disagree with me would be me, and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to do that. I’m really good at creating all sorts of (to me) “realistic” fantasies about my life, my relationships with others, etc, but that thinking is often skewed because I’m only looking at it from one angle (mine). Satan loves it when I do that; he uses that as a prime opportunity to help me push myself away from God and into my own little, self-involved world. Isolation is a form of insanity because it’s doing and thinking the same stuff over and over again without seeking change or perspective.

And yup, people are messy, but let’s face it, they are the reason why are on this earth in the first place. First and foremost, we are to glorify God, and our mission in doing so is to “Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation.” Mark 16: 15. If we hide from others and isolate ourselves away from them, we are being disobedient, and well, pointless. What would have happened to me if someone else (specifically, my family) would have adopted this attitude of “She’s too much work”?

Another barrier is fear. In our small group right now, we are reading the book, Fearless, by Max Lucado, in which he addresses all the types of fears that weighs us down. I like to think that I’m a pretty brave person. I like to try new and different things, but that’s mostly because I’m adventurous and like the novelty of “new” and “different.” It’s not because I’m fearless. Let me explain.

I won’t re-hash barrier #2, but getting involved with others involves risk (as I explained). I don’t want to get hurt (as I explained), BUT I also don’t want to be rejected. That sucks. I’m going to be 100% honest right now by saying that I avoid a lot of social situations because, well, I have an innate belief that most people don’t like me. At all. I have a good friend named Amy who is well-loved and seems to have a carte blanche invitation to most social circles because, well, she’s just an all-around, genuinely nice person. She is not loud, brash, or highly-opinionated, but when she speaks, she has thought carefully about what to say, and it always makes sense. I don’t say this to be mean or because I’m “jealous” of her; it’s the truth, and because we’re friends, I feel as though I’m allowed into social circles simply because I’m riding on her coattails (and possibly holding her back because of it).

This is getting kinda long, so I’ll try to speed through this a bit. . .I fear being forgotten – that if I died tomorrow, no one would remember me (which is going to happen) and worse, I would not have left any indelible mark on this world for God. . .I fear making the wrong choices – that in spite of prayer and careful consideration, I still end up choosing poorly (selfishly) rather than following the path that God wants for me. . .I worry (a form of fear) about how my kids will end up – will they be able to find a worthy spouse, raise Godly children, serve God productively in a career that He’s chosen for them, willingly wish to come to holiday celebrations, willingly come to see me when I’m old. . .I fear a pointless future – when I’m done raising my kids, then what? My whole life has been centered around them, but when they don’t need me anymore, then what? Will I just keep banging my head against the wall in trying to teach kids who don’t want to learn in a district in which I don’t even matter?

As I have stated before, all fear is inherently opposite to God. Just as all sin is opposite of God, fear is too. Fear places the focus on self vs. God. When I fear, I am basically saying, “Um, yeah, God, you’re nice and all, but I just don’t trust you. I’m going to chew on this (these) situation (s) a bit more until I come up with what I think is the best scenario.” When I fear, I’m like David putting on all of Saul’s armor, thinking that I have to wear it in order to be successful against the giant, but unlike David, I don’t take it off. I drag it around; it’s heavy, and worst of all, its weight impedes me from doing the best that I can do for God. . . wow, that’s so powerful, I think I’ll say it again. . . I drag it around; it’s heavy, and worst of all, its weight impedes me from doing the best that I can do for God.

So it seems I have a choice to make. I can be the ever-relentless, independent turd that I think I need to be, or I can put all of my eggs into one basket – His- and patiently wait for God to be God. It reminds me of a song, “Turn your eyes upon Jesus; look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim; in the light of his glory and grace.” The only thing keeping me from doing great things for God is. . .me.