Blog Archives
What Remains
This blog has been brewing for a couple of weeks. Sometimes, you just have to get your distance on an event before you can really put it into perspective. Sometimes, like we talked about at my Bible study last night, you just have to remember that “when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.” (1 Corinthians 13:10) Those things we know and experience now are only temporary. Time can change the impact and meaning of events in our lives when we know the full story.
Such is this event that I want to share with you. A couple of weeks ago, I had a work-related phone call from someone interested in homeschooling. I will do my best to spare the details of the call, but it was one that left me shaking when I hung up the phone. I was mad, offended, saddened, and in shock. The mother with whom I was chatting was pulling her child out of school because of the bullying that has gone on in the school. She went on to say that her child was afraid even to go outside in the neighborhood for fear of being attacked. She had told me where she lived, and knowing this town fairly well, I was surprised by her child’s fears. Assuming perhaps it was an unusual situation, I was surprised to have her hit me with the punch line to her fears for her child. The crux of the matter in her mind was this, and I will quote her. “We are surrounded by Mexicans who only want to run around, fornicate, and get each other pregnant.” She went on to add that she did not want to raise her child in a culture where, “these Hispanics are only interested in taking the easy way out, and their laziness sets a bad example.”
It was at about this point that I interrupted her to remind her of my last name. Rodriquez. She had seen several emails with my signature on them, so she was not unaware. When I gently reminded her, she pointed out that she had seen my picture, knew I was white, and that my husband, “must have gotten out of that culture; he must be normal.”
Needless to say, the rest of the conversation was an interesting one, and as politely as I could, I stressed the sorrow I felt that this was her attitude and “experience.” It was not mine.
Fast forward now to this week. On Monday, I had the opportunity to visit with a long-time friend of our family who is now in a geriatric convalescence center. She has suffered from rapid onset of dementia, and she’s not been doing well. I had seen her about a week before, and she had known who I was, but this week, she did not. My husband and I visited for about an hour, and all the while, our friend was happy and conversational, although the conversation didn’t always make sense. Nevertheless, we played Bingo with her, sang with her, and laughed with her at her feisty spirit that still remains, even when her nurses don’t see the humor in it.
As we played Bingo, however, I looked around the room. There were about 30 clients in the room, and I knew that each one had a story. Each of them had friends who had come and gone, family members in other places, experiences that had shaped them, both for good and for bad, and pre-conceived notions of others and what they were like. Yet at this stage in their lives, they were able to enjoy each other. They were glad for the common experiences of Bingo and laughter, and yes, conversations that were quite entertaining. They joyfully needed each other, and while they had most likely come from a huge variety of social backgrounds, and certainly from different ethnic backgrounds, none of that mattered.
The people that they were, inclined to be joyful or bitter, inclined to hope or to despair, to smile first or scowl, that remained.
With this perspective, I’m able to think back on this mother who is so fearful for her child, so hurt by experiences to which I cannot relate. I pray that she has opportunities to show love to those around her, and opportunities to be loved by those around her. I pray that she has opportunities to be transformed beyond her limited past, because it’s temporary and “when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.” I pray that her faith and hope in humanity will be renewed in her love for humanity, because love is the greatest of all – whether seen in a group of strangers-turned-friends over Bingo, or seen in acts of conversation with neighbors.
“So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13)
Hallelujah!
Easter has always been my favorite church day. There are lots of reasons for that and special memories of Resurrection Sunday celebrations in my past, but it’s one of my favorites. In part, it has to do with the colors that everyone wears, and in part it has to do with the flowers. And of course, it always has to do with the message of Easter. 
These things all have common elements. Hope. Fresh chances. Joy. New life. I know that preachers all over the world are pointing out those connections today, so this is nothing new, but I look forward to the reminder every year, and I look forward to the message.
I pray that wherever you are on your journey with God, you will look forward to His message to you, because we’re reminded on Easter Sunday of a message that is spoken daily by Him. He speaks every day of hope and new life in His Son to those who will listen. And just like the many parts in songs such as “The Hallelujah Chorus,” written for an Easter celebration, the message is always unfolding in harmonies both subtle and not-so-subtle, so keep your heart and your ears open!
“He told them, “This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.” (Luke 24:46-47)
Maybe I’m Seeing Things
Have you ever seen something, and immediately your brain was flooded with an onslaught of symbolism and meaning? It’s more of an impression, really, but something catches your eye and then you just “know” what it means. You know?
Today, I drove into Houston for a meeting. It’s been a gorgeous day here, and I was looking forward to meeting a friend of a friend about an upcoming book signing event for When I Die. If you live in any of the surrounding cities near Houston, then you know what it’s like to drive into Houston – the pace picks up, the traffic picks up, distractions abound. I love Houston, and I thoroughly enjoyed living there when I did, but even I’ll admit there are some differences in pace and attitude from where I live now. And yet, in the midst of the hustle and bustle, I saw something that spoke through the pace, through the city life, through the life I live now, and was clear for all to see, even if I was the only one that saw it.
On the side of the freeway, right as I was about to make my turn under the overpass, there sat a well-worn Bible. It sat in the clear and open light just in front of the shadows. It was plainly available to anyone, whether they chose to see it or not. It stood apart from the darkness, and within perfect reach of anyone who cared to pick it up. It was clearly a source of comfort for someone, but also left available for sharing with others.
Call me sentimental. Call me simple. Call me one who over-spiritualizes. But I called it a profound moment of truth.
Some Saturday Musings
I read a friend’s blog today, and I will admit that my inspiration comes from her post, Siete. She wrote about seven things most of her readers wouldn’t know about her. I started thinking about that idea, and that led to something else, and I ended up with today’s blog topic. Clearly, this is a “Saturday” topic, something that won’t change the world as we know it, but something perfect for my mind’s entertainment on this Saturday…
7 Things I Wonder About…In no particular order, and with the full admission that these are “fluffy” thoughts, here are some things on my mind today.
1. I wonder what the real purpose of mosquitoes is. Seriously, it’s hard to imagine what purpose they have in God’s creation. Even before the fall from paradise, what exactly was it that mosquitoes were supposed to do? I know other people have asked this question, too, but to date, has anyone ever come up with a valid answer? I just don’t get it. Not to question God, but I can’t find the sense in mosquitoes.
2. I wonder why some people have the same nose or mouth or whatever as someone else. It fascinates me that there are complete strangers who have nothing in common, but they have identical body parts. Have you ever met someone and the entire time they’re talking, you’re thinking, “Oh my gosh, they have the same mouth as so-and-so.” One time, my husband and I were in a restaurant waiting for our table to open up, and we sat silent for a full 10 minutes, mesmerized by a woman who was the spitting image of my mother in every way – hair, nose, hand gestures. My mother had passed away a few years before, so this was quite a shock. I finally broke the silence only to ask him if it was my imagination. We were stunned. “Why does God make someone look so much like someone else?” I asked. The only answer my husband had was, “So that we never forget.”
3. Speaking of my mom, I wonder why she was so right all the time. Why are moms usually right, but when we are a mom, we almost never feel like we’re doing it right. Why is that? I didn’t get my copy of “How to Be a Mom 101,” and I’m guessing she didn’t either, so how did she do it? For instance, I remember several times she would tell me that white flour was bad for you, and that she was allergic to it. Who is allergic to white flour, or rather, who was even aware of white flour issues back in the 1960’s when she told me that. Was there even another option? How did she know that?
4. I wonder why teenagers sleep so much. Can it really be that tiring to be 13? Seriously? I’ve been accused of not having an “Idle” in my mental gears, but who can live in Idle? I love the wind blowing through my hair feeling of going, going, going. Why don’t I know how to sleep in, or take a nap? Yuk! A nap? Who has time for that? Given a productive day with a lot of things accomplished, what do I do to unwind? Think about life, and then blog about it.
5. I wonder why half-and-half can stay good for so long if you never open it, well past the expiration date, but the minute you open it, it’s a short transition to not-so-good. If the air that I breathe has that much of an effect on cream, then what is it doing to me?
6. I wonder why you get smarter as you get older until you reach the age where you start realizing how little you know. How is it that the phrase, “the older I get, the less I know” can be true when we keep learning things all the time? It is, though. I’ve begun to use that phrase here and there. The first time it came out of my mouth, I nearly choked in horror. Did I really mean that? Yes, I did. How can that be?
7. I wonder, if any decision I ever made, would have changed my life differently or would I have traveled to basically the same place? If I had gone to a different college, majored in something else, taken a different job, moved to a different town, would I have lived differently, or was I destined to be right here, right now, in this place? (I guess it boils down to whether you’re Presbyterian or not, right, Amanda?) But seriously, what decisions would have given me the same answers? I wonder…
Okay, so maybe these weren’t all “fluffy,” but these are things I think about sometimes – among others!
In the Middle of My Testimony
Last night, we had some friends over for dinner and fellowship. It was a fun evening, and I enjoyed the laughter and prayer time, not to mention some beautiful music at the hands of a very talented musician friend. Some of these friends have been friends for years and some of them I met only months ago. What was particularly sweet though, was the time of honest prayer.
There seemed to be some common threads in our prayer needs and thanksgivings – don’t you love it when God orchestrates a group of people who can help each other? And, there were some testimonies shared. By that, I mean a few people were able to share times that God has taken them through a challenge into a success. That’s a great blessing to have the evidence of God’s work. That’s a testimony.
That’s when God reminded me that to have the testimony, you have to have the struggle. To see how He saves, you have to understand where you’re lost. To know how God redeems, you have to come to terms with the “waste”. So last night, part of the testimony of God’s work in some of us, was the struggles we’ve been through.
So, in remembering that we are always to give thanks to God, I can proudly state, I am grateful that I’m in the middle of my testimony!
I’m grateful for the things in my life that have been redeemed, and I’m looking forward to the resolution of the others. I’m blessed by the victories I’ve seen for myself and my family, and I look to the future with God for those losses we’ve known. I’m happy to tell you of the testimonies in my life, but I’m only in the middle of some of them.
But, if my attitude can stay focused on the testimony I’m being given by God, of the work He is doing, and the care He has for my welfare, then I can stop focusing on the struggle. I can focus on the testimony with the reminders of past victories in mind to remind me how a testimony ends. Always for the best. Always!
So again, I am grateful to be in the midst of my testimony. Aren’t you?
“Then I heard a loud voice in heaven say: ‘Now have come the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God, and the authority of his Messiah. For the accuser of our brothers and sisters, who accuses them before our God day and night, has been hurled down. They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony…”. (Revelation 12:10-11)
Arguments in the Night
So, it’s 1:06 in the morning, and you cannot sleep. Do you a) get up and read, b) toss and turn, or c) stew over the stressors that are on your mind and caused you to wake up anyway? If you’re like me, it’s d) all of the above. But when 2:27 a.m. clicks away on your neon-blue bedside clock and you’re still awake, you have to ask yourself, how many more times can I read, turn over, or recite the same argument that I’ve been making in my head for the last hour and a half?
I’m a great debater at that hour of the morning, aren’t you? I can argue my case intellectually, logically, with stinging points that are sure to wow, and the beauty of it is that the person I’m arguing with is always completely impressed with my case. They have nowhere to go with a counter argument, because my points have won them over. That’s about the only good thing I can think of though, when I think of the hours of sleep I’ve lost over the years arguing imaginary points in my mind.
But what has been the cost? Lost sleep, sure. That has led to a few headaches and heart palpitations, which I seem to be susceptible to when I don’t get enough sleep. Then there’s the fatigue that wears on my face. I saw a few photos of me roll by on my screen saver from just a couple of years ago. In the last two years, I’ve aged more than I’d like to admit. But I think the cost is more than that, as if those weren’t bad enough. I think it fosters resentment and energy spent on things that tear down, rather than build up. I’m too old for spending that kind of repeated energy, and too young to live my life that way. Life is just too short. I won’t choose to live that way.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t suffer from feeling burdened and even, oppressed, when I find myself fighting those midnight battles. They still come at me from nowhere. When they do, I’m usually operating from the perspective that I’m right in those situations, but you know what? If I actually were having that conversation, that other person would think they were right, too. I have no problem with disagreeing with someone – that’s not the issue. It’s when those disagreements go past a differing perspective because I’ve allowed them to demoralize me or exploit me. Whether or not that’s the intention of the other person, if I allow them to make me feel that way, then I find myself looking for things to do at odd hours of the morning, and who wants to do that?
So last night, after nearly two hours of tossing and turning, arguing and praying, I finally got up and read an old favorite Bible passage. Like a mantra, I went to bed quoting to myself, “The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed…The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed…The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed…” In-between recitations of that verse and flashing moments when my brain wanted to argue another point, I was reminded that God does the work, not me. He works for righteousness, which may or may not mean that I’m right. He works for justice which is about equality. I am not any better, or more favored, than the one I’m arguing with. And, while I might be feeling oppressed in some way, I don’t know how the other person is feeling, and God’s word is true for that person, too. God works for all who might be feeling oppressed.
“The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed.” (Psalm 103:6)
In Mid-Air
January 1, 2011 – New Year’s Day
I could write a few resolutions, since it’s the day for that, but I don’t want to. I’m not in the mood for that at all, although I’ve enjoyed catching up on friends’ blogs and seeing theirs. Actually, I’ve never been one to set New Year’s Resolutions. I usually forget about them long before January is over because I get distracted by something that is more important to me – something that I didn’t want to put in print or talk about freely, so I just didn’t make any resolutions – only quiet prayers.
Which leads me to today’s blog topic. I got to thinking about my recent prayer time and realized it really hasn’t been full of much prayer. What I mean is that much of my life right now is in the “leap of faith” category. There are a lot of unknowns and a lot of uncertainties, but I’ve followed God out here, after much prayer, and now I’m just “out here.” It’s like the slow-motion scenes you see in movies where the character has just jumped from one rooftop towards another one, and as he’s in mid-air, the action slows down to let the audience to see the death-drop below him. You know he’s going to land on the other roof, because the movie has too much time left to kill off this character, but nevertheless, you hold tight to the armrest or hold your breath for a second while you watch him make the leap.
That’s where it feels like I am. I’m in mid-air. I’ve been directed, guided, and led here, but it’s still a long way down. I can see the next roof in sight and it’s getting closer, but there’s always a chance that my angle may be off just a bit and I’ll find myself clinging to the edge. I’ve been holding my breath during the leap, and waiting for God to catch me when I land.
But as I paused to reflect on what I had just written, something occurred to me. It’s been just over a year since I began this blog, and I wondered what my very first post was about and what that might say to me. I went back and checked just now. God is so funny. My first post was about prayer and waiting for God to speak. Boy, oh boy, did He speak this last year! And that, surprisingly enough, brings me back to where I started with this post, not that I knew this was where I was going, mind you. As I hang in mid-air, I’ve been led here, directed, and guided by God’s words as He’s spoken much to me. I prayed and listened, He spoke, and action was taken. I prayed some more, and then I leaped.
But the even funnier irony is that I went back to the scripture that inspired my first blog. It was from 1 Samuel, chapter 3. Just a few verses down in the same chapter, I reread an interesting verse, interesting in light of the movie analogy I used. Verse 19 says that none of God’s words would fall to the ground for Samuel. If I’ve acted upon God’s words and I’ve been led into mid-air, as the other rooftop is approaching, I can rest assured that I will not fall to the ground.
I guess this is just what slow-motion feels like in the movies.
“And Samuel grew, and the LORD was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground.” (1 Samuel 3:19)
Contrasts in the Mail
My first order of books is due in any day. I can hardly wait, but at the same time, this is a time of contrasts and completions.
Last Christmas Eve, as a present to myself, I submitted my first book to a publisher after finishing my journey of writing it. I wrapped up the final adjustments on Christmas Eve, and off it went. My first book, to my first publisher. In March of this year, I got word that it had been accepted, and the journey of book publishing began. There were several months of editing, which is surprising to me since it’s a relatively short piece. Then, graphic design and layout began, and now, finally, it’s about to be Christmas Eve again, and my first copies are due – almost a year to the week of when I completed the writing process.
But this process is all new to me, and so each step is a journey. The next step is summed up in that word that some would call a “dirty word” – marketing. For now, during this “pre-release” phase, the book can only be purchased through the publisher or me. The official release date, slated for February, will be when the book can be purchased through Amazon, Borders, Barnes & Noble, etc., but for now, it’s the old-fashioned, spread the word kind of marketing. So, I’ve created a Facebook page that I hope you will go to and “Like,” so that I can keep you updated, or through my Twitter, if you’re a “tweeter.”
But that’s not what I’m mostly thinking about as I write this blog. No, what I’m thinking about is the contrast between being excited for fulfilling a long-held dream of mine – to write a book – and the reality that it’s not the book that I intended to write. It’s the book that God gave me. There’s also the contrast that I have in knowing that I have to talk about me and my story on some level to promote this book, and I’d much rather live quietly. What God gave me to say was such a blessing to me, though, so I can’t be quiet about it. Then, there’s the contrast that the book is written through the eyes of a funeral, but it’s really about living.
All of this comes at a time when just this week, I attended the funeral of a 17-year-old young man who took his own life. How am I supposed to reconcile talking about my book, when a family I know is deeply hurting right now?
There is no easy answer to this question, and no way to overlook the ironies of this timeline. It is in fact, this very type of irony that led me to write the book. Each step of this journey has been full of contrast and completion, irony and affirmation. For instance, one of the people who endorsed my book, a former astronaut and now artist, was influential in ways he will never fully understand regarding my original desire to write a book, but I had never had the chance to tell him that until recently.
But in this journey, I’m reminded that each step continues to be an unfolding of connections between people and events in my life. Whether I met them when I was a small child, or worshipped beside them in church this morning, I’ve been shaped by the contrasts and ironies in which I’ve shared life with others. There are some constants, like Christmas coming around again and funerals, but there are a lot of unknowns, too. I look forward to those, too, just like I do my box of books in the mail.
Where to Start?
Have you ever wondered where to start on a project when you know you need to be doing something but it seems so overwhelming? I’m in a bit of that place right now. I actually have a couple of different things that I need to do, but sometimes I just don’t know how to get started on them.
For instance, I had an inspiration not too long ago and I created, wrote, and designed a new social media tool. Weird, huh, since social media’s not my passion. I know in my “knower” that it’s good, and would really be helpful to companies that use social media marketing, and I’ve seen “certified social media analyst” on some people’s titles, but what does that mean, anyway? I’m pretty sure that this “tool” that I wrote would be a huge benefit to those people, and they could even make tons of money selling the product they create from it or teach it to their staff, but I don’t have a clue how to get the word out on that, especially since it’s only in booklet form, and I’d rather talk about my actual book. I did contact someone in this industry, and let’s just say that the money it would take to develop this into a product on my own, is not money that I have. So where would I start with this?
Then there’s Christmas. Our lights are up, the tree is decorated, the music is on my iPod, ready to go at a moment’s notice, but I don’t really feel too Christmas-y yet. Every year, my husband and I take our carefully budgeted envelope for Christmas presents, and we spend one day, just one, shopping for all of our gifts. Five children and a single day of shopping mean that this one day is well planned and fairly busy. This year, we haven’t found a day to do that, so I’m not sure when we’ll get it done, and it’s way too late to do our shopping online, so where do I start? We have a pretty tree, but it’s absolutely empty underneath. Except for the cat. He likes to sleep there.
And don’t even get me started on Christmas cards…
These are just a couple of examples, but there are others. I know I’m not alone, though. Everyone gets overwhelmed by the “To Do” list, especially right now. Christmas is such a busy season, and it seems to exaggerate the already full list of things to do. I think I even sensed this when I was a little girl. I remember waiting until the Christmas tree was put up in the living room and the lights on, a project which, oddly enough, I don’t ever remember helping with. Not really, anyway. But once the tree was up, I would wait until mom and dad were distracted and back into the other room watching television. When the living room was quiet, and no one was around, I would sit in the room and just watch the lights. I didn’t want anyone to talk to me during this time; it was all about being alone for just a few minutes. Something in the lights made me feel better, and somehow, that was an important part of every season. Christmas wasn’t Christmas without my silent night, so to speak.
I’ve done that every year since I can remember. Sometimes now, I have to wait until everyone goes to bed, or is at least in the other room, and then I turn out the surrounding lights. Nothing but the Christmas lights stay on. If no one is home, I’ll put on my old, old Christmas music from my childhood. I had to hunt down the CD’s and get them on my iPod, because no one has a record player anymore. These are songs by singers long gone whose names sound odd to my family, so I don’t want to have to explain the music. But if my family is home, I’ll just steal away in silence. Either way, this is still part of my Christmas. It still makes me feel better, and it’s still where I have to start for Christmas to be real.
And that’s what I usually think about. If Christmas tree lights can make me feel so much more peaceful, I am reminded and refocused on what the true light of Christ does for me.
Are We There Yet?
Sometimes, the familiar question that our kids ask of us is the same one we ask of God. Like little children, sitting in the back seat of God’s van, we ride along wondering when the journey will be over. I don’t mean death. I mean the lessons we’re learning.
No one likes to learn the, “Pride goes before a fall” lesson, or the “Wait upon the Lord,” lesson. Those mean that we have pain, or we’ve suffered in some way. We want to be perfect, acknowledged by others as such, and to have everything we want, when we want it. Or, we have practiced being humble for so long, we’ve been patient, we’ve watched others gain accolades over us, we’ve been undervalued and overlooked, and all we want to know from God is, “Are we there yet?” “Is it my turn, God?” And if we’re really honest, we also want to know if it’s time to see others suffer from the “Pride goes before a fall” lesson, not just us. Isn’t that much like a little child? Their lollipop is bigger than ours…
What we forget is that from the back seat of the van, we can only see a portion of the front view. We can see the sky and some of the scenery, but we cannot see all of the details of the road. We have to trust God to lead us in this journey. Spiritually speaking, He’s driving, not us.
Sometimes I think about this and then I realize how many times I travel over the same roads when I’m driving. They always take me where I need to go, but I go there more than once. That can be comforting if I let it. Like a familiar path that takes us home, the lessons we learn along the way will get us where we need to go. Just because I make the trip successfully once, though, doesn’t mean I don’t have to take the trip as carefully the next time. I do. Each journey needs to be done with the same attention to the details as the last time. I have to be mindful of the other “drivers on the road” in the sense that their journey shouldn’t make mine less successful, but I’m also not driving their cars. I can’t see out of their front windows either. I can only drive my car.
The truth is, we’re never really there until we’re there. You know? So what if I have to learn this lesson again. Maybe I didn’t really learn it before. Maybe I forgot. My God is going to get me there safely, of that I can be sure. So maybe I just need to sit back and notice the journey, be content to be protected, loved, and watched attentively from the rear-view mirror. Even better, maybe I need to make eye-contact in that rear-view mirror, because when that happens, a knowing smile is always shared. The journey is more profound in that instant, and the question of whether I’m there yet or not is quickly forgotten in the eyes of my Father’s care.
“Friends, don’t complain about each other. A far greater complaint could be lodged against you, you know. The Judge is standing just around the corner. Take the old prophets as your mentors. They put up with anything, went through everything, and never once quit, all the time honoring God. What a gift life is to those who stay the course!” (James 5:9-11a)
