In This Waiting

The blank computer page in front of me mocks the scattered nature of my thoughts.  Asking me to organize or consolidate my frenetic mind seems like a tall task.  Yet, after months of not touching my blog, the invitation to post a little something is all too clear.  Rain is pouring down outside my window.  My house is fairly clean and organized.  The gift of extra time has been awarded to me by a baby who seems overly comfortable in my swollen belly.  Writing a blog post seems like the therapeutic and perfect thing to do.

This morning, I had an OB appointment which might rather have been entitled an Attitude-Check appointment.  You see, I have dreams about the birth of this little boy squirming around inside.  I really want to have this baby with as little medical intervention as possible.  I envision a lovely natural start to labor where I can while away the hours doing sweet and domestic activities in my familiar house.  I imagine the doula we hired arriving at the right moment, cheering me and my husband on as we prepare to go to the hospital for just those last crazy hours.  I determine that my birth story will defy the horror stories that I have heard one too many of.  That's my dream.

Then my dream met this morning.  I found myself sitting in an exam room with a sheet draped over my lap and the OB telling me what I didn't want to hear: Baby McDonald is just plain comfy and things not too progressed at all (well, it wasn't said in those words, but that was my interpretation).  This news at nearly 41 weeks pregnant dealt a disappointing blow to my well-laid plans.  As I swallowed my frustration, the OB continued to direct me about the plan to come to the hospital in 4 short days to begin the induction process.  It all sounded terribly unromantic to me.  I guess baking cookies and doing puzzles during labor isn't a normal part of laboring in a hospital room.  What a bummer.

As I trudged out of the clinic, my mood matched by the gray clouds hanging low overhead, I knew just how spoiled my mindset revealed me to be.  The OB had offered plenty of encouragement including the fact that the baby seemed to be doing quite well.  Nothing in that twenty-minute meeting warranted the foul attitude that slithered into my heart.  Yet, there I was, a veritable Eeyore, tromping to my car with an inward pout about how things were unfolding.

I am embarrassed to admit this.  Truly.  I don't mean to say that my frustration and impatience have no basis to exist.  Being 41 weeks pregnant has its real moments of trial.  However, when I think about the immense blessings surrounding me right now, even in this situation, I can't believe that my heart focuses on the comparably minuscule annoyances instead.  First of all, I am pregnant.  That alone is a blessing that I don't deserve.  Secondly, I have excellent medical care.  The fact that induction is possible reminds me that I live in an age where having a child is not nearly the liability it once was.  I am well taken care of and have no room to complain.  Thirdly, I have time to write this post.  I have space to dwell and think and pray and prepare.  Not all moms-to-be get that luxury.  Fourthly...

I could write on and on.  If I were to enumerate all the ways that I am blessed, this post would be painfully long.  Thus, I am reminded that living a joy-filled life has much to do with perspective and a living in the thankfulness that Christians are called to nurture.  Sometimes, it is too easy to exchange worry for worry or frustration for frustration in life.  There will ALWAYS be things that are not ideal in a given day.  There will ALWAYS be ways that I could compare my situation to someone else's and find how my lot in life is dismal.   It's just a basic human tendency.

I am old enough to know that I have to choose the proper perspective day after day and that doing so requires surrender.  I must surrender daily to Christ and allow the Holy Spirit to shape the thoughts of my heart.  Though I'm old enough to know it, I'm not always mature enough to actually do the right choosing.  I am thankful that there is grace for my deficiencies, but I want to learn how to live in more victory with my attitude postures.

As the rain continues to pour, my heart feels more calm. I am confident that Christ is refining me.  I pray you are finding those refining moments in life too...those ways that Christ is teaching you in your situation to surrender and choose thankfulness.  It is amazing how the sun shines through the rain when that happens.

No such thing as Neutral

I taught public school for nine years.  As an employee of the government, I well understood that I was to be "neutral" in my instruction.  Promoting any ideology was prohibited, yet I quickly realized first-hand that there is no such thing as neutrality in human conduct, really.  Humans have worldviews and their worldviews make sense of the world in very fundamental ways.  We operate out of those views without thought most of the time.   No fair-minded human would dispute this.  It is just impossible to completely divorce one's self from one's driving worldview.

Perhaps nothing exemplified this more clearly than the Supreme Court decision handed down on Friday, June 26, 2015.  Five of the nine justices ruled that same-sex marriage can no longer be denied in any state.  Reading the decision and the majority's opinion quickly revealed that this issue was decided based on worldview convictions.  Though justices were to be blind arbiters of the law in looking at this case, they could not resist ruling based on what they felt ought to be.  Even they, who legend says are to be the most excellent at executing objectivity, appear to have levels of bias.  This is far from shocking. They are human, after all, just like the rest of us.  We do not live like robots without feelings, sentiments, hopes, dreams, fears, thoughts, ideology.   It's what makes the human race simultaneously magnificent and convoluted.

The debate over whether justices overstepped their bounds in this case is not the point of this post.  I have read most of the 103-page Supreme Court decision along with the majority and dissenting opinions.  I have many thoughts regarding the points made therein and the outcome of the ruling, but that is for another day.  Here, I simply want to say what we all know to be true.  Worldviews inform humans. We should not be surprised.  As a Christ-follower, my worldview is shaped by the authority of Scripture and God's truth in my life.  I do not question this authority in any way and do not doubt my stance that God created marriage for one man and one woman.  

Yet, I know that to those who do not hold this view, my view is insane.  To them, it smacks of prejudice and entitlement and cruelty.  From my viewpoint it does not speak any of those things.  Thus, an impasse is created and indeed felt by those holding different worldviews.  Has this not been the case in all of human history?

So, as I reflect on the Supreme Court decision, I am not flagged.  I do not agree with the premise of the decision and do not think it pleases Christ.  I would be lying if I did not admit to sadness over Friday's decision.  However, I will not despair nor change my view of what is God's truth.  Furthermore, I am not going to hate those who disagree with me.  Christ calls us to love and to truth.  I can love those who disagree with me while standing on what I believe to be true, no matter what the cost.  

Let us stop insisting that everyone must agree as reality proves this impossible. To those who were excited about Friday's decision, please do not be surprised that Christ-followers do not join you in your celebration.  To Christ-followers, do not complain that those who don't know Christ make decisions and find victories grounded in their worldviews.  May God grant me the grace to love and to be kind and the strength to stand on His unfailing truth no matter what the cost as our nation moves forward.  

Perspective from the Couch

This beautiful January morning, I am perched on my apartment couch, gazing out at a wintry Pikes Peak.  I hear the buzz of traffic on the streets below and the ticking of the wall clock.  I am savoring the bite of my dark-brewed coffee and the gift of time.  Most of all, I am feeling compelled to think about perspective.

You see, I injured my back last Saturday.  I hurt it hardly doing anything which is a maddening thought.  I merely stretched too far on a sit-and-reach exercise, pushing my back to a point of strain.  Though I felt my back's complaint, I proceeded to do more exercises and then ran one measly mile.  I heard my back telling me to stop, but I was stubborn and pushed through the stiffness.  I didn't want to quit.  I was with others and I didn't want to say that I had to stop.  Well hello, Pride.

That stubborn choice cost me greatly.  By the end of my jog, I could barely walk, my lower back screaming foul play and causing every move to be rife with pain.  I could barely get into my car to drive home and then took embarrassingly long minutes to wince my way out of my car and up the apartment stairs. The rest of the day was consumed with downing pain meds, finding the most comfortable position and limiting movement as much as possible.  I had become a sort of invalid in just a short time.

As a result of my pride, I have missed four days of school this week and have found myself somewhat strapped to my apartment.  Normally, so much down time would be a gift.  Yet, when you feel limited in your ability to move or drive about, the gift turns into confinement.  Keeping my spirits up has been a crazy battle which has led me to ask, If I can't stand this much pain and inconvenience, how would I fair with the much-worse that so many others face daily?  This small trial has been testing my emotional and spiritual strength and I have found myself relatively weak in those regards.

So this morning as I sit on the couch that has become quite my good friend, I am convicted about my perspective.  It strikes me afresh that the human condition is naturally inclined to see the mess in a situation rather than all the things that are blessedly right.  Earlier, I flipped back in my journal and saw an old entry where I was wrestling deeply with something that is no longer a big trial in my life.  I had to shake my head in wonder.  Will I navigate life by simply trading worry for worry?  Or can I rise above and learn the art of a thankful perspective?

In that same journal, I wrote notes of thanks this morning.  It proved good medicine.  Choosing a positive perspective does not come naturally to me, but if I allow the Holy Spirit to reign in my heart, it becomes a lot easier.  To that end, I am thankful for extra time.  I am hopeful that while I sit, I will be still in spirit and dwell in the presence of God.  I am in true need of His daily redemption and am endlessly thankful that He is near.  I want to gain a healthy perspective, and He is the best Perspective-fixer I know.  Here's to sitting and dwelling and cultivating a thankful perspective during this time.

But They Laughed At Him

It strikes me as mildly ironic that a moment of sharp clarity arrived on this foggy morning.  While the dreamy mist outside hovered around the aspen leaves, one small sentence in the gospel of Matthew arrowed straight into my heart.

"But they laughed at him."  Those words in Matthew 9:24 might as well have been in all caps and a bold font for the way they popped from the page.  The context is the story of a ruler who petitioned Jesus to come heal his already dead daughter.  The ruler's faith is intensely exemplary because he understood who Jesus Christ was.  Perhaps he had seen other miracles or had simply heard of them, but he knew and believed that death was no obstacle for the Son of God.  Should Christ choose to say the word for her revival, his daughter would breathe again.  Such steady faith brought Jesus to the ruler's house.

Yet, the house was filled with scoffers, those who were bitter, unbelieving and audacious enough to laugh in the face of the Messiah.  There is really no other way to interpret the laughter of that moment.  There was no mirth, no joyful spirit to prompt such a reaction.  The laughter was not already freely flowing.  No, this laughter was out of mocking incredulity. 

Interestingly, Jesus asked the others to leave before they even demonstrated this negative response.  My best guess is that Jesus already knew their hearts and knew that they didn't believe.  Then, when he told them that the daughter was not dead but alive, they mocked Him as any logical human being would.  Why would one believe what is obviously untrue?  Yet, the ruler had.  The ruler had looked at facts and believed the impossible.  What is the difference between the scoffers and the ruler?

The difference is that the ruler knew who Jesus was and believed.  The others no doubt knew who Jesus was as well and had likely experienced the same exposure to Christ and His work as the ruler had.  Yet, they refused to believe or to have any faith in the Messiah Who had already proven His immense power and authority.  The result?  They missed out on witnessing a miracle. 

How sad this is!  What damage we incur when we do not have faith!  Yet, as I read this story, I could hardly be condescending toward those who laughed.  After all, the girl was dead!!!  It was an impossible situation, was it not?  Yes, they knew of Jesus' power, but surely He would not heal this girl!  That was their thinking, not so unlike my own in so many ways.

If given a choice, I would choose to be like the ruler.  I would choose to have logic-defying faith in the transcendent Lord of the universe.  If given a choice, I would never laugh in the face of my gracious Savior who has proven faithful over and over again.  But wait.  I do have a choice!  How is it that I demonstrate fear, worry, and unbelief so often instead of a simple faith in the God of the impossible?  I don't know, but I am deeply convicted.

I don't want to miss out on the miracles of Christ in my own life and in the lives of those around me.  I don't want to miss out on the power that He so readily demonstrates to those who believe Him at His Word.  I don't want to be put out of the house because I ridiculed the God who created me.  I want to be like the ruler and not like the scoffers.  As this foggy morning carries on, I pray that it may be so.  

On Flipping Decades

I remember the first time I watched that monumentally ridiculous chick flick 13-going-on-30.  I remember pondering just how old 30 seemed to be.  It loomed as a distant age residing far away in the murky future.  The mystery of who I would be by the time I actually arrived there was an enigma indeed.  The prospect of being so "old" felt no more real than Frodo and the land of hobbits and elves.

Crazily enough, that day has arrived.  The time for flipping decades and closing a chapter of my life has come.  In some ways, it strikes me as silly that we mark our lives by numbers and assign some sort of weight to age.  Yet, we are human and age does not leave us unscathed in the experience of this world.  Time does pass and our lives and bodies tell the story of years gone by.  We cannot bear the same youth that we did a decade ago.  This truth makes the acknowledgment of time and age vividly relevant.  It is fitting that we understand the imprinting power of time.  However, contrary to what the birthday card industry might indicate, this need not be a woeful thing.

The older I get, the more deeply profound life becomes.  I feel more aware than ever of the absolute desolation of a fallen world.  Yet, I see more clearly the redemptive work of a powerful God in the lives and stories of those who trust Him.  The bittersweet richness of life roots deeper in my soul than it did when I was 20.  In thinking of my great uncle, who is going to turn 103 this year and celebrate his 80th wedding anniversary with his wife in a few days, I wonder just how deep his root system has burrowed compared to mine.  I cannot comprehend it, but this is what makes getting old an incredibly exciting journey.  There is no other way to gain poignant insights and a multi-faceted understanding of life than to live and to let years and experience teach.

So it is that I will enjoy this day and think on all that God has given me in 30 brief years.  I am humbled by His grace and power in my life and am endlessly thankful that I can journey confidently on, knowing that no matter how much time is left for me here, I have a loving Savior who is guiding and guarding my way.  What a glorious truth.  I am ready to dig these roots deeper still.

Life is Rich

The sights, the sounds, the smells of fall and football usher in a nostalgia that runs its course in the deepest of my veins.  Childhood memories of packing up our family van with blankets and mittens to head to the Friday night game in frigid Wyoming air flood my senses.  I once again trot across the high school parking lot by my dad, his strong, protective hand on my back.  My young fist thrusts out to receive the red stamp after he gives the cash, and my excitement mounts as we round the track to climb into the grand stands.  Friendly, chill-kissed faces of long-time friends and acquaintances greet us as we scout out the perfect bleacher spot.

The loud speaker crackles, the larger-than-life football players shift and strut on the line, and the cheerleaders sparkle under the beaming lights.  The students crowded in their own section beckon admiration and awe, and the band bedazzles me with peppy sounds and sure steps.  I soak it in and dream of being older.  The details of the sport escape me for I am taken by the environment of this Campbell County Camels football game.

The trip to the concession stand for popcorn or hot chocolate or Laffy Taffys finally arrives.  After munching and sipping and reading jokes on the wrappers, I fidget.  When the allure of the game fades, I scamper to the grassy fields around the real field and play football with my brother and friends.  As the fourth quarter expires, I begin to feel a sleepy head and inescapable cold.  I am ready to pack up our van again and head home, full on a night full of community spirit and fellowship.

Those are the good ol' days.  Those are memories to cherish.  Last night, I went to Rampart High School's homecoming.  This is the school my middle school feeds.  As I strolled to the stadium, blanket in hand, I was reliving those Wyoming childhood days all over again.  And this time, in a different era and location, I was looking at the football players, cheerleaders, and band members as a loving mentor would.  I could hardly believe the pictures of the strong and manly seniors, staring at me from the glossy program.  Many of those students I taught as little 6th grade boys in my very first year of teaching.  Time had passed and they had grown up even though I have little changed in appearance myself. 

Nostalgia of a different sort hit me then.  The sentiment of feeling that I had the privilege of teaching these students in their formative years washed over me.  I felt almost sad that they would be graduating this year.  I felt sad that I can't be close to all of my students forever, watching them grow and having dibs on each step of their lives.  It is hard to explain and it is bittersweet in such a strong way.

Nostalgia and sentimentality are glorious and yet I don't know what to do with these emotions at times.   It is almost cathartic and therapeutic for me to linger in these moments, yet I sometimes feel helpless to know how to resolve the bittersweet in mind.  Anyone human relates to this.  So, in the end, I am left with the realization of how incredible and precious life is.  I have been given a rich lot in life and I have a gracious God to thank.

What if?

The world of the hypothetical is fascinating.  I think we as humans like to entertain the world of the "what if's" even though such a place can be uncomfortable.  When watching an interview on T.V., it is interesting when a host throws a guest a hypothetical situation in hopes of hearing how he will navigate it.  Most often, the guest will refuse to enter into such mind games recognizing that it usually does no good to speak in hypothetical terms because, well, it's not reality. 

Were I able to so easily refuse this world of the abstract possible, I may save myself some brain power.  Yet, I find it is stimulating to think about what could be or what could have been.  Watching the Olympics this week has continually triggered such thoughts.   What if I had been born here, been blessed with this gift, been created with that body, been given that passion?  It is crazy and somewhat ridiculous to think about.  After all, I cannot imagine spinning once around the uneven bars, let alone propelling myself into the air to spin and twist in a fancy dismount.  I can't envision jumping once over a hurdle, let alone running at top speed at those looming obstacles.  As it stands, I am not even remotely in the realm of Olympic athleticism, as much as I would like to think I am.

There is a part of me that wants to nurse the small pain that bites in such thoughts.  The gnawing question of whether or not I have made use of my life presents itself in these musings.  How does anyone measure the worth of a life's calling, of a life's work?  As I look to start another year of teaching, I peer inward and wonder whether what I do makes any difference.  I often describe my job as a constant pouring of time and energy into a proverbial black hole.  It frustrates me that the usefulness of life cannot be determined by a scientifically accurate method.

This is where my walk with Christ proves to be a comfort once again.  Knowing that He can use all people in any sort of situation reminds me that the outward measure of success is often fallacious.  True...I don't have a Visa commercial in honor of me as do volleyball greats Misty and Kerri. While they deserve such recognition, it does not mean that my life or the life of any "average" human is less precious, valuable, or useful than theirs. 

The world of the hypothetical might be fun, but, like the interviewing guest, I need to watch how often I let myself live within that realm.  What if I learned to live fully in the reality of my life?  Now there is a hypothetical question worth pursuing.