Still A Work in Progress

Several days ago a friend from high school -with whom I occasionally chat, but haven't seen in decades-asked me if I had changed since high school.  As soon as the question was posed, the chat session had to come to an abrupt end. The question was left hanging there. No answer given. I shrugged, thinking the answer was obvious.  More than thirty years has passed; I have a husband and children; have endured stormy days and celebrated moonlit nights. I have accomplished goals I thought impossible and seen things that I would only dream of, come to pass. I  mean, grief. Since high school,  I have entered into a real relationship with Jesus, for crying out loud. Of course I have changed!


But the question still hangs there. Waiting on me. For days, it has taunted me. Had I changed? Really? 


Honestly, yes. 
And no. 


I am no longer clinging, cringing, cowering, cold, callus, calculating and cheerless. At least not today.   Actually, at least not for this moment.   Christ's grace washed over me, and gave me a new life....but the old life is still in me. I am complete, but not finished. Sure, this walk has worn down some of my sharp edges, but I still flounder when I should follow.


So, no. I haven't changed. I am still impatient, and sometimes mean. Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could trade houses/cars/bodies with Perfect Patty. And sometimes, when I realize that not having those things helps me to be humble, I am proud that I'm humble. Really. 


And I still get my feelings hurt and I get angry; it's usually at the ones closest to me...and I expect them to forgive me; but I don't find it as easy to forgive them. And as to evil...if you knew the thoughts I think, you'd realize that sometimes I delight in evil. Unless it's toward me. 


I  like it when the truth comes out...especially if it benefits me.  Beyond that, I can be mistrusting, controlling and stubborn. And I don't always preserve and protect the love that has been given to me. And, just so you know, last night when we were playing cards, I said "Damn!" and I meant it. 


Sigh. 


But Christ who has begun a good work in me...will, one day, complete it.  Then the answer will be yes, yes, yes, I AM CHANGED!  Until then, II am thankful for those who love me in spite of myself...and I rejoice in His covering. His patience. His kindness. His unfailing mercy and love toward me. And I will rest, knowing I am a work in progress. Still. 

Other Faces: The Black Suit

There were spent days and wasted nights at a school that had quickly grown the false reputation of "safe haven for gang members on the run from the gang."  There was the dead friend who had served as Director of Education and there was the funeral and the uproar it caused in the community; there was the admissions director who was a crack addict; there was the test protector that was falsifying tests, there was the suspicion that corporate knew the dirty details, but not the suit.

The suit was hand picked; it was a perfectly tailored black cashmere suit worn with a white silk blouse, collar open just enough to show a hint of the single strand of pearls.  On the wrist was a simple gold watch which kept impeccable time--not that time was ever managed, but there was the illusion of trying.  There was the business of running a school, ruining a family, pretending at the importance of a life balanced precariously on the heels of black leather stilettos. There was surviving and thriving under the scrutiny of both SACS and AICS accreditation. There was the rise from teacher to curriculum director; from financial aid clerk to financial aid director; and ultimately to school director.  There was the resolve to make a difference. 

There remains the question that floats by in unexpected wisps and whispers:  why.isn't it missed?   Ultimately none of it mattered. Not really. The suit found its way to the back of the closet; the blouse remained in service as a night shirt; the pearl strand popped under the strain of being twisted around and around fidgety fingers; and slippers replaced stilettos.

Now there are challenges of a different brand and suits made of different a weave. There is a different life, but one better lived. And there is a prayer that you may find peace...not in riches nor prestige, but found only by knowing the depth and height and breadth of my Father's love for you.

For Women Only

Dan and I will celebrate 26 years of marriage on Wednesday. Before we said our "I do s" we committed to never using the "D' word in our home or with each other.  But I'm no fool. I know that with every battle, there is the potential for it all to blow apart. I've concluded that it takes a great deal of fortitude to stay together. Dan and I must both maintain the willingness to encounter danger, bear pain, and overcome adversity with courage DAILY. We have to speak courageously, to listen compassionately and to forgive.


Over the last quarter century, I've had to face, with honesty, the answers to these questions:
Have I the courage to speak plainly what I want...not just in the living room but in the bedroom?  
Have I the courage to speak plainly when I disagree about big issues?
Have I the courage to speak candidly of my broken heart?
Have I the courage to speak of my fear of being abandoned?
Have I the courage to speak of my need to hear "I'll never leave you?"
Have I the courage to speak of my rage when I know his eyes have wandered?
Have I the courage to speak of my humiliation when he says it has nothing to do with me?
Have I the courage to speak of my need for a protector, a knight in shining armor, a point man, an armor bearer?
If I haven't the courage to speak, how can he have the heart to hear?


By God's grace, I've learned to be bold. To be honest.  To cry real tears. To ask for forgiveness. To expect more than his best...to expect God's best in him. And I've seen him "man up." 
He has the courage to pray for me as an individual...not just as a wife and mother.
He has the courage to pray for our children.
He has the courage to anticipate my fears and be gentle with me because of them.
He has the courage to comfort me when my heart is broken, even when it makes no sense.
He has the courage to respect and heed my opinions.
He has the courage to hold his ground when he knows I'm wrong. 
Even if I cry. 
Even if I scream.
He has the courage to accept the responsibility for my screw ups.
He has the courage to admit his mistakes and to ask forgiveness.
He is my protector, my knight in shining armor, my point man, my armor bearer.  
He has earned my eternal respect...my unending devotion...my heart. He is my eshe.

Human Sacrifice

You know those days that seem to be busy, but you can't put your finger on what it is you've accomplished? The past five days have been like that for me. I have added to my "To Do" list daily. Some items got checked off, others are still there from Friday. Monday nothing got checked off.  Sadly, it hasn't really seemed to matter if I completed any of it.  The last several days have been the shrug your shoulders and say "Oh well..."  kind of days.

My Mistake

Minimizing the Moment

It's easy for me to fall into thinking that what I do or don't do has little value. I mean, I don't run a company or have any substantial political influence.  I don't care for patients; I don't build houses; I don't work as a counselor for abused children; I don't run a school to train adults a new skill. I don't paint or sculpt to bring beauty into a dreary life.  There are a lot of things I don't do. So does what I do even matter? What about what you do?

Each of us should be screaming a resounding YES...it just has to matter!  Once again, I find it is perspective that defines the value in my moments.  I do all those grand things listed above on a small scale.The company I run is home; I have influence in a small circle of friends and family; I have one vote; I administer TLC to my sick children; I build a safe haven called home; I try to listen to others with empathy; I homeschool my child. And, as for aesthetics...I point to God's canvas.

I (and you) have been given an incredible gift. It has an unknown expiration date. It isn't just life...it's the time that makes up the life.  What I do with my limited time matters.  It screams unspoken messages to my children, my husband, my friends, my extended family, my church family...everyone around me.  What I do moment-by-moment is a sacrifice of my time and energy to something.  It is an offering that reflects what is important to me. Today I will accomplish that which I believe holds the greatest value, recognizing that what I do consumes me; I am the human sacrifice on the altar of my choosing.

May we each choose well this day.  I love you all.

Here's a link to Third Day "Offering"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cwmf8OMqbxU

What Does Prayer Change?

Ten year old Caleb looked across the supper table tonight and asked his sister the random question, "If you could bend anything in the world and make it do whatever you wanted it to, what would you bend?"  Without batting an eye she answered,  "The hearts of men to compassion." Caleb blinked. No, no...that's not what he meant. She laughed, and said, "Okay, I would bend corn."  Well, that was random enough.

During the remainder of our meal, the conversation returned to the original answer Bethany had given. Ultimately the evening's deliberation centered on the big question...what does prayer change?  For over an hour we discussed God's sovereignty, His perfect will, His permissive will, freewill and predestination. What an amazing exchange of thoughts!  The outcome? Well, we all left smiling, but for now, we've agreed to disagree.

I'm curious though...what do you think?  What is your answer to the big question? Does prayer change things? If so, what? You can comment here, on facebook, or send me a private message.  Love you all from the depths of my heart!

The Bigger Picture

Writing a blog like this...about mistakes made and changes and challenges and choices...it's easy for the important things to get lost....like being grateful for the One who loved me first; the ones who continue to love me regardless of age, wrinkles or dress size; for laughter and tears and for a body healthy enough and a mind clear enough to do either.  So...while I bellyache about the little frustrations in life, I would be a fool not to acknowledge how blessed I truly am. I don't want to miss the bigger picture.  I don't want you to miss it either! 


Matthew West's latest song, "My Own Little World" serves as a great reminder to look beyond ourselves.  If you have a a few minutes to listen here is the link:  http://www.myspace.com/matthewwest    The lyrics are below.


In my own little world it hardly ever rains
I’ve never gone hungry,  always felt safe
I got some money in my pocket
shoes on my feet
In my own little world  
Population me

I try to stay awake through the Sunday morning church
I throw a twenty in the plate but I never give ’til it hurts
and I turn off the news when I don’t like what I see
it’s easy to do when it’s population me

What if there’s a bigger picture
what if I’m missing out
What if there’s a greater purpose
I could be living right now
outside my own little world
Wooh

Stopped at the red light, looked out my window
I saw a cardboard sign, said “Help this homeless widow”
Just above this sign was the face of a human
I thought to myself, “God, what have I been doing?”

So I rolled down my window and I looked her in the eye
Oh how many times have I just passed her by
I gave her some money then I drove on through
And my own little world reached population two

What if there’s a bigger picture
What if I’m missing out
What if there’s a greater purpose
I could be living right now
Outside my own little world
Wooh
My own little worldWoohwhoa yeah
whoa yeah
whoa

Father break my heart for what breaks Yours
Give me open hands and open doors
Put Your light in my eyes and let me see
That my own little world is not about me

What if there’s a bigger picture
What if I’m missing out
What if there’s a greater purpose
That I could be living right now
I don't wanna miss what matters
I wanna be reaching out
Show me the greater purpose
So I can start living right nowOutside my own little world


Wooh
My own little world yeah
My own little world woo 

Crack Candy

I was caught off guard.  I don't know how it started, but once it did, I craved more and more. I could tell the pathways inside my brain were being altered.  Physical changes were beginning in the nerve cells; they started communicating with each other, each one releasing an increasing volume of neurotransmitters into the synapses between them. They kept firing and firing and I kept feeding and feeding them. The fuel of choice:  Reese's Candy.  I don't even like Reese's candy.

I was up late last night working on home school lesson plans.  Innocently I got up for a bottle of water. As I turned back, I saw the King Size Reese's candy bar someone had left on the table hiding behind my laptop.  I thought, "Mmmm...chocolate would be really good right now, but since Reese's aren't my favorite, I'll just get those two last miniature Reese's cups out of the freezer and eat them. That will satisfy my craving for chocolate." Right.  I should know better than to listen to me when it comes to candy in any form.  Sugar is my own personal crack addiction. So, it should come as no surprise that the first two pieces of candy only served as the hor d'oeuvres before the entree, King Size Reese's candy bar.  Now & Laters served as my dessert followed closely by cinnamon disks and rootbeer barrels. It was an all out binge. 

Sleep eluded me until about 4:30 this morning when the sugar high I was on took a nose dive.  I got up when the 8:30 alarm went off, and managed to brush my teeth and get dressed.  Around nine I stopped to pray about a specific situation, but somewhere between 9:20 and 10 I fell back asleep.  Another alarm was set for 12:45...which I heeded. By 3:30 though, just as we were finishing up classwork, I was drifting again.  Even swimming tonight felt like mud was clinging to every part of me. I guess, in an odd way, it was.

My Mistake:

Mud Wrestling

From 17 to 22 I smoked two packs a day.  One day I found a lump on my neck which the doctor was concerned, but unsure about. The decision was made to "watch" it and see if it grew. I made a deal with God.  Please let this not be cancer, and if you'll help me, I'll lay these things down.  It was the last cigarette I smoked.  Over the years, sugar seems to have filled the role nicotine once had.  I go through phases of controlling the intake, only to loose it and binge.  I'll get all the sugar out of my system, I'll be feeling great physically and mentally. I'm clean.  Then, for no reason at all, I'll take that first little bite, and I'm  back rolling in the mud.  I've wrestled with this sugar thing forever. I'm wondering if I'll ever have enough courage, enough discipline, to get off sugar and stay off sugar. 

Tomorrow has got to be better.