I am so thankful that I did not have a baby when I first started trying two years and two months ago. I am so thankful that I struggled on the road of infertility. My human, would-prefer-it-the-easy-way side still occasionally (but less and less) feels a little irritated to think about how easily some people who are so irresponsible do the whole baby-parent thing (and how cheap they can do it too...), but I have experienced a literal transformation of my heart and attitude, that is worth every tear, every let down, and every penny. In the problems of life, this one is small in comparison to many, but I walked through my small fire... and at times I was sure I would burn and scorch... but in the end, I feel like I have been purified.
With that being said, after almost a year long break from anything fertility related, Van and I have decided to go ahead and proceed with IVF. And so we are in the middle of every other day doctors appointments, blood draws, and ultrasounds, as well as daily and multiple shots (for me), which cause at times severe headaches. Yet I feel no anxiety, no stress, no fear at all. I am perfectly confident that He who began a good work in me will continue it... whether it be with a baby or not. And for this, I am so thankful. It is only God who could soften my heart, who could help me to not only recognize my blessings in the midst of what I considered a storm, but also help me to learn to be truly and genuinely grateful for this "storm".
Things I have become more sure of this last year:
1. God is good. His grace is more than I deserve. He owes me nothing.
2. Like a parent who realizes that children need guidance and discipline, He loves us enough to not always give us everything we want immediately when we want it.
3. My trial is small. It's not cancer. It's not death. It's not the loss of my home. It's not starvation. It's minor, and I am blessed.
4. I believe that my fulfillment comes from nothing in this world - and that includes children. Not my spouse, not my job, not my family, not my money... true purpose and fulfillment is found only in seeking Him. I honestly believe that if I can't have children, I will still be fulfilled.
5. We cannot control our circumstances or our hormones... but we can control the way in which we respond. Attitude is controllable. Attitude is powerful.
6. I wasn't as perfect as I thought... I had more need for "help" than I wanted to believe. And still do. I will be a work in progress till the day I die.
7. God does not give you more than you can bare. There may be times that your heart feels like it will explode in pain or your lungs will burst in suffocation, but with His help we can be stronger than we ever dreamed.
8. I am blessed.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Friday, August 2, 2013
the answer
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke
I first came across the above quote when I was in college. It spoke so loudly to me because I was really struggling with some uncertainties regarding my future... most specifically love drama. (What teenage girl is not plagued with a little love drama?? I was definitely no exception!) I had it taped beside my toilet paper roll... so that I could read it multiple times a day, often repeating to myself, "love the questions. live the questions." Today I came across the quote again, and I was amused, as seeing it again brought back so many memories. I was reminded of what the quote had once meant to me... I remembered how that I use to try and will (often unsuccessfully) myself to see my unknown future as a beautiful question, waiting to be answered...and I was pleased as I realized that in fact those uncertainties eventually did pan their ways into certainties.
And all is well.
Having survived my past uncertainties, and having seen that in the end all really is well, I feel more secure in my current and future uncertainties. And I almost enjoy them... Without even realizing it, I grew up to be someone who has come to really believe (and I hope live out!) the quotes I once only could TRY with very much effort to believe.
Live the questions. Perhaps then, without noticing it, you will live into the answer. I did. I really did. :)
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
my opportunity
It has been 6 months since I cried from sadness due to fertility problems. January 2013 to be exact. I am so grateful for this, because the lack of tears have not been due to any suppression of thoughts or feelings. On the contrary, I have been fully aware of our infertility, while fully embracing my adventurous life that having no children allows. I have been in a great spot emotionally. Waiting patiently, which is kind of surprising, because patience is the most unlikely virtue that I might posess.
But last night the frustration and fear of two years of fertility challenges stabbed at my heart until the tears flowed. I was feeling lonely and abandoned. And so I wallored in my self-pitty and the unfairness of my situation.
Only two days ago I was in an OR doing the anesthesia for a very sick ICU patient. As we were finishing up the case, late at night, I heard some voices coming from out in the hallway. It sounded like a disagreement, as the tones were intense and loud. I asked the nurse if he knew who was yelling, and then almost to myself I said, "There's no need for such upset. It could always be worse. You could be in the situation of this patient..." (who suffered a very unnecessary and tragic work accident that has left life clinging to the body) The surgeon looked at me in thougtful contemplation and said, "I know, right?" While standing there I was glad that I had been able to see my glass half full... but then again I was not in the depths of despair. It's so much harder when you're actually feeling the despair to pull up out of it. I thought to myself, "I've got to remember this attitude of gratitude..."
But last night I found myself feeling sorry for myself. How quickly I forget.
After about a solid hour of feeling sorry for myself I began to think about the sadness of this world. Cancer patients who die before they have had a chance to live. Children living in Africa without enough food to fill their bellys. People unjustly imprisoned (Nelson Mandela). Holocaust victims. The loss of a child. The untimely loss of a spouse. As I thought about these other heartaches, I remembered that I am blessed. It can always be worse.
I've always been a lover of deep, meaningful, inspiring quotes. I use to fill my day planner's front and back pages with them. In college, I had multiple index cards filled with quotes taped to the inside of my shower so that I could read them at the start of each day. Often, my favorite quotes come from people who have been "through the fire". I have always seen them as heroic for their unwavering faith or ability to endure extreme hardships. And as I was inspired by their words, I would imagine that I too would face obstacles in such a way. I would imagine as I sat in the comfort of America that I was chiseling with their words my mind and heart to be like theirs. And so here is my opportunity. I don't understand the pain. And maybe I never will, but I choose to hold on to the hope that I am being refined.
But last night the frustration and fear of two years of fertility challenges stabbed at my heart until the tears flowed. I was feeling lonely and abandoned. And so I wallored in my self-pitty and the unfairness of my situation.
Only two days ago I was in an OR doing the anesthesia for a very sick ICU patient. As we were finishing up the case, late at night, I heard some voices coming from out in the hallway. It sounded like a disagreement, as the tones were intense and loud. I asked the nurse if he knew who was yelling, and then almost to myself I said, "There's no need for such upset. It could always be worse. You could be in the situation of this patient..." (who suffered a very unnecessary and tragic work accident that has left life clinging to the body) The surgeon looked at me in thougtful contemplation and said, "I know, right?" While standing there I was glad that I had been able to see my glass half full... but then again I was not in the depths of despair. It's so much harder when you're actually feeling the despair to pull up out of it. I thought to myself, "I've got to remember this attitude of gratitude..."
But last night I found myself feeling sorry for myself. How quickly I forget.
After about a solid hour of feeling sorry for myself I began to think about the sadness of this world. Cancer patients who die before they have had a chance to live. Children living in Africa without enough food to fill their bellys. People unjustly imprisoned (Nelson Mandela). Holocaust victims. The loss of a child. The untimely loss of a spouse. As I thought about these other heartaches, I remembered that I am blessed. It can always be worse.
I've always been a lover of deep, meaningful, inspiring quotes. I use to fill my day planner's front and back pages with them. In college, I had multiple index cards filled with quotes taped to the inside of my shower so that I could read them at the start of each day. Often, my favorite quotes come from people who have been "through the fire". I have always seen them as heroic for their unwavering faith or ability to endure extreme hardships. And as I was inspired by their words, I would imagine that I too would face obstacles in such a way. I would imagine as I sat in the comfort of America that I was chiseling with their words my mind and heart to be like theirs. And so here is my opportunity. I don't understand the pain. And maybe I never will, but I choose to hold on to the hope that I am being refined.
Friday, July 12, 2013
"Passionate Patience"
For at least a month, I have been regularly reading and re-reading Lamentations 3 from "the message", with particular focus on 3:25-27.
Lamentations 3 is a chapter that is familiar to many. It's a chapter that refers to God's "faithfulness". There's an old hymn that I am familiar with that sings the words, "They are new every morning, new every morning, Great is Thy faithfulness, Oh Lord."
The verses that really stood out to me over the last month, however, say this, "God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks. It's a good thing to quietly hope, quietly hope for help from God."
What is really ironic to me is that in almost the very same breath, the author writes how God's faithfulness is NEW every morning followed by encouragement towards waiting and seeking. In some ways, that could seem like an oxymoron. Every day, is faithful. Yet wait and seek. This reminds me that God's faithfulness and my ability to see the whole picture of His plan are not one and the same. Despite my total blindness, despite my total uncertainty, despite feeling overwhelmed, He is DAILY orchestrating my life, faithfully.
Just because I cannot see, just because I am waiting, does NOT mean he is not Faithful.
I NEED that reminder!
I have also been reading through the New Testament. I'm currently in Romans. I have spent two days on Romans 5, with particular emphasis on Romans 5:3-5 (message) because it says, "We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary - we can't even round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!"
There's that reference again "passionate" waiting/patience followed by the idea of hope/expectancy. When I saw it, I had to stop, flip over to Lamentations and re-read it. So if you read the two together you get this message (Jessica's understanding): We have troubles. But during those troubles we should feel thankful (and shout praises) because we are developing passionate patience. And God is GOOD to the person who passionately waits. While waiting we are learning to expect from God, because He is FAITHFUL to generously pour into our lives. So keep hoping"
I know I took some liberty with the words... but I really do feel like that is what it means. I think the verses kind of complete each other because they confirm what the other is saying, and add a little to give more clarity to the bigger picture.
I love it. I love how I can depend on His faithfulness. And in this knowledge, I am hopeful. My future is bright, as the child of God.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
To Return to Jerusalem?
I've been slowly working my way through the New Testament (most recently Acts) for sometime now. I got stuck on one scripture in Acts for at least a week... re-reading it every morning, trying to make it sink in. And even though I finally moved on with my readings, I've continued thinking about this passage for at least a month now... and so I thought I'd share it with you.
In Acts 21, Paul is in Caesarea. He is informed that if he returns to Jerusalem that he will be bound, beaten, and imprisoned. His Christian brothers and sisters beg him not to return. They try to convince him to look out for himself (which seems natural, totally ok and even smart). But Paul's response is, "Why all of the hysteria?... You're looking at this backward. The issue in Jerusalem is not what they do to me, whether arrest or murder, but what the Master Jesus does through my obedience." (Acts 21:12-13, the message)
Paul wasn't receiving necessarily bad advice. It sure seems like it was good advice (logically). And it was not coming from bad people, but rather godly people, who believed they were advising him wisely. But Paul knew what he must do. He knew that his obedience was what Christ was asking of him... not a logical, intelligent self-saving decision.
He saw it in reverse: "What does Christ ask of me?" Obedience. "But this may result in the loss of your life." Still obedience.
The question I kept asking myself that resulted in a week of re-reading the passage... and another month thinking about it is, "Would I return to Jerusalem?"
Would I return, knowing that pain awaited me?
I found myself wondering what in my life has been a return to Jerusalem? Have my past sufferings (minimal as they have been) challenge my faith and made me question God? Or do I see it correctly? Do I see it in reverse, like Paul? How out of this difficult situation am I asked to be obedient? Because it's so easy to forget that it's not about me at all. It's about how I can serve Him. (How easily our human, selfish, sinful selves lose sight of this concept!)
My prayer is that if I would not "return to (my) Jerusalem" before reading and meditating on this passage, that I would now after the fact. I pray that my eyes have been opened. That my heart is made strong. And that no matter what is asked of me, that I can choose obedience. Much easier said than done. But this is my prayer.
In Acts 21, Paul is in Caesarea. He is informed that if he returns to Jerusalem that he will be bound, beaten, and imprisoned. His Christian brothers and sisters beg him not to return. They try to convince him to look out for himself (which seems natural, totally ok and even smart). But Paul's response is, "Why all of the hysteria?... You're looking at this backward. The issue in Jerusalem is not what they do to me, whether arrest or murder, but what the Master Jesus does through my obedience." (Acts 21:12-13, the message)
Paul wasn't receiving necessarily bad advice. It sure seems like it was good advice (logically). And it was not coming from bad people, but rather godly people, who believed they were advising him wisely. But Paul knew what he must do. He knew that his obedience was what Christ was asking of him... not a logical, intelligent self-saving decision.
He saw it in reverse: "What does Christ ask of me?" Obedience. "But this may result in the loss of your life." Still obedience.
The question I kept asking myself that resulted in a week of re-reading the passage... and another month thinking about it is, "Would I return to Jerusalem?"
Would I return, knowing that pain awaited me?
I found myself wondering what in my life has been a return to Jerusalem? Have my past sufferings (minimal as they have been) challenge my faith and made me question God? Or do I see it correctly? Do I see it in reverse, like Paul? How out of this difficult situation am I asked to be obedient? Because it's so easy to forget that it's not about me at all. It's about how I can serve Him. (How easily our human, selfish, sinful selves lose sight of this concept!)
My prayer is that if I would not "return to (my) Jerusalem" before reading and meditating on this passage, that I would now after the fact. I pray that my eyes have been opened. That my heart is made strong. And that no matter what is asked of me, that I can choose obedience. Much easier said than done. But this is my prayer.
Friday, June 21, 2013
the birthday surprise
I haven't written in over a month. It's been crazy like that. May was my birthday MONTH. And on May 17, just four days before my 30th birthday, Van pulled off the biggest surprise of my life. Literally. I woke up on a Friday morning to his alarm clock going off. I was not exactly sure what time it was (it was something like 7 a.m.) but after doing my 40 hours in 4 days, I knew that it was way too early for me to be up on this off day. And wondered, "What is he doing setting his alarm anyways? He never does that." I chalked it up to the fact that he had just gotten back the day before from a week long trip for work to Dallas, and so that he must have needed his alarm THERE because I wasn't there to make sure he woke up on time... with that as a sufficient enough explanation, I turned it off, went to the bathroom, and hopped back into bed. Thirty or forty minutes later, Van woke me up in a panic wanting to know 1. What time it was. 2. Where his phone was. and 3. Why his alarm had not gone off. I explained that I had no idea what time it was. That his phone was on the bathroom sink, where I had left it on my way to the bathroom after turning it off. After jumping up to check the time (I had gone "back" to bed at this point), he informed me that I MUST get up and get packed. I told him I would not. He then said that I MUST because I had a plane to catch in three hours... that we had to be AT the airport in two hours. In my foggy, sleepy state this totally confused me. "But you TOLD me that I could go to book club tonight?!" I couldn't wrap my sleepy mind around the fact that he might possibly be telling the truth. (Even after hearing this, I got back under the covers and said I wasn't getting up. ha) He finally convinced me to get up and to pack... reading me off a list of items to pack. All that I concluded from the list was that I was most likely going to a beach/warm weather that would possibly have bike riding.
Initially I was mad. I was in the shower in a total huff... feeling extremely overwhelmed at what I was expected to do in such a short period of time. Then I was nervous and a little bit anxious. When we got to the airport, the Southwest attendants dealt only with him (a total fluke), leaving me just as confused as ever. They didn't even ask to see my i.d.! We walked towards security with me still clueless as to where "we" were going. Van told me that he and I were going to Los Angelas. That he had rented us a beach house, and that he was coming, but something had come up with work and that he would not be there until later that night. He apologized profusely that he wasn't able to change my flight to his, but to just trust him. He told me that like the way he had arranged for the attendants to not talk to me at the baggage check (the fluke) that he had also arranged for someone to meet me (the way they do with children who fly solo) at the gate to take me to the beach house.
To be quite honest, at this point I wasn't all that excited... I was thinking of all the things I NEEDED to do back home... and wondering WHAT ON EARTH Van and I were going to do at a beach house for a week... neither of us are "beach" people. Our usual vacations are far less relaxing (ha) than beaching... we need activity. LA in my mind was like the most un-Jess&Van place I had ever thought of... frou frou, expensive, and beachy. But I did my very best to not let him read these thoughts that were going through my head on my face. He was so excited...
I anxiously boarded my direct flight to LA, and for three hours (the longest flight of my life!) I could not sleep, could not read, could not listen to music... I was so NERVOUS! I had never been so "out of control!" and I wasn't sure I liked it. I thought of every possibility. I wondered if he was planning a party/reunion with friends in LA. I wondered if what he had told me was true. That we were indeed going to be staying at a beach house by ourselves all week. I wondered if we were actually going on a cruise or somewhere beyond LA and that LA was just the connecting stop. By the time the airplane landed, my stomach was in knots and I had a case of the butterflies that I hadn't had since the day of my wedding!
When I got off the plane, my friends said I was nosily craning my neck around to find whoever it was to meet me. I was looking for a "Jessica" sign, thinking maybe I was meeting someone from the "beach house"... but then I saw it: a "happy birthday" sign and my three closest friends from Westmoreland High School (my jr/sr HS)! Shocked does not adequately express my thoughts... after the hugs and hellos, I asked, "so, Van's not meeting me at five tonight??" I still wasn't entirely sure what was going on! Nope... it was a girl's weekend!
Once again, Van proved that he knew me better than I knew myself. LA (actually Santa Monica) was a PERFECT place for the four or us to hang... I had been completely wrong. It wasn't frou frou at all! We were in this great house, less than a mile from the beach. We had bikes, and we biked ALL OVER Santa Monica... down by the beach, to the shops, out to dinner even.. (which if you know me, you know I am OBSESSED with biking). It was the perfect combo of plenty of "outdoorsy/adventure" type activities combined with enough "city" entertainments such as good restaurants, and lots of good shopping (which we did plenty of!!)!
It was SUCH a great surprise... and a great way to end my 2nd decade of life. I turned 30 on May 21st, and that same day I flew home. After being on such a high, I felt kind of low, when the girls left me to fly to Nashville two hours before my flight to San Antonio. It continued when I arrived, and Van was late picking me up... and then told me he had a lot to do with work and so he dropped me off at the house (by myself)... where I just sat around doing nothing. So I cried. Four times, actually. The worst part of a high is the low that can come after... I decided that 30 was terrible... everything leading to 30 was great, but this day, the actual birthday, was terrible. I didn't like the sound of 30. I didn't want to be 30.
On the birthday (Tuesday), during one of my cries about how I hated how "thirty" sounded, Van told me that he was taking me to my parents' in Houston the next day... because he wasn't putting up with this for another day. So the following morning, we headed to Houston so that he could work there for a few days (part of his territory) and I could avoid being sad and lonely. We stayed from Wednesday to Friday... and on Friday, as we were heading out, I told him maybe we should just stay another day. But we were already packed up, so he didn't have to push hard to get back to San Antonio...
Mom and Dad mentioned on Friday before we left that they might come over on Saturday... that they had been thinking about visiting a pastor in Corpus Christi or one in New Braunfuls... which isn't too far from us. That's so typical of them - last minute planning, that I thought nothing of it. I mentioned several times that I had this groupon for an Italian restaurant that was going to expire, so we should use it... but they would never agree to anything... (again typical that they won't set anything in stone)... so I thought nothing of it. Mom started talking on Saturday when they arrived about how she wanted Mexican food (a common craving of hers, as it's her favorite), so after several unsuccessful attempts at enticing her with a "free" Italian meal (which I thought would trump the Mexican food craving), I kind of dropped the Italian restaurant groupon suggestion. Van told me that he had gone ahead and made reservations at Aldaco's (my favorite Mexican restaurant here) for 7 p.m. I thought that was very proactive for him, but blew it off again... I mentioned the Italian groupon once more and Mom said she really wanted Mexican... so I told her that Van had made reservations at one place, but that maybe we should go to Chueys instead... she said, "We'll see. We don't have to decide right now, do we?" They played their roles well - because this sounds like something she would say anyways, although maybe a little more aggressive than normal.
When we arrived at Aldaco's (almost late because I had gone to the grocery store around five, left my phone at home, stayed way too long, and then arrived home with loads of groceries, suggesting that I just cook instead of going out... once again unknowingly trying to sabotage their dinner plan attempts), the hostess told Van who had said, "Reservations for Oldham party of six", "They're already on the patio." I thought she meant that part of the "party of six" that he had requested was on the patio... and as this is a happening, busy place, often with a long wait, I said, "WHO is on the patio?" Followed by the thoughts, "SOME GROUP has taken our reservations!!??" (Van says I'm such a cynic, that I would assume the worst instead of guessing what it actually was.)
When I walked out on the patio, I was looking for an empty table for six... and there was none. I saw this big group, and just about the time that I was going to tell Van that this big group had taken our reservations/table, I saw my friend Jenna's husband, Brett. And the big group that I thought had stollen our reservation yelled, "SURPRISE!" I was COMPLETELY floored. I think I was even more surprised than the whole LA thing... because this time I had completely forgotten about the birthday... and definitely assumed that nothing else was planned, after having had such an elaborate birthday celebration.
It was AWESOME! I enjoyed it so much.. having all of my amazing and fun San Antonio friends together, and having them meet my parents and brothers. I went home on a TOTAL high, ending my birthday celebrations feeling so loved and blessed.
Van REALLY outdid himself! I am such a lucky girl.
And after being 30 for a month, I've decided it's tolerable. haha I did run a mile the other day a minute and a half faster than normal. I told Van that some of my friends say that they feel like their bodies are stronger and healthier at thirty than at twenty, and that, "THIS MUST BE TRUE because I am usually such a bad runner!" So I'm finding the positives. How can a year that started so well be anything but great?
Initially I was mad. I was in the shower in a total huff... feeling extremely overwhelmed at what I was expected to do in such a short period of time. Then I was nervous and a little bit anxious. When we got to the airport, the Southwest attendants dealt only with him (a total fluke), leaving me just as confused as ever. They didn't even ask to see my i.d.! We walked towards security with me still clueless as to where "we" were going. Van told me that he and I were going to Los Angelas. That he had rented us a beach house, and that he was coming, but something had come up with work and that he would not be there until later that night. He apologized profusely that he wasn't able to change my flight to his, but to just trust him. He told me that like the way he had arranged for the attendants to not talk to me at the baggage check (the fluke) that he had also arranged for someone to meet me (the way they do with children who fly solo) at the gate to take me to the beach house.
To be quite honest, at this point I wasn't all that excited... I was thinking of all the things I NEEDED to do back home... and wondering WHAT ON EARTH Van and I were going to do at a beach house for a week... neither of us are "beach" people. Our usual vacations are far less relaxing (ha) than beaching... we need activity. LA in my mind was like the most un-Jess&Van place I had ever thought of... frou frou, expensive, and beachy. But I did my very best to not let him read these thoughts that were going through my head on my face. He was so excited...
I anxiously boarded my direct flight to LA, and for three hours (the longest flight of my life!) I could not sleep, could not read, could not listen to music... I was so NERVOUS! I had never been so "out of control!" and I wasn't sure I liked it. I thought of every possibility. I wondered if he was planning a party/reunion with friends in LA. I wondered if what he had told me was true. That we were indeed going to be staying at a beach house by ourselves all week. I wondered if we were actually going on a cruise or somewhere beyond LA and that LA was just the connecting stop. By the time the airplane landed, my stomach was in knots and I had a case of the butterflies that I hadn't had since the day of my wedding!
When I got off the plane, my friends said I was nosily craning my neck around to find whoever it was to meet me. I was looking for a "Jessica" sign, thinking maybe I was meeting someone from the "beach house"... but then I saw it: a "happy birthday" sign and my three closest friends from Westmoreland High School (my jr/sr HS)! Shocked does not adequately express my thoughts... after the hugs and hellos, I asked, "so, Van's not meeting me at five tonight??" I still wasn't entirely sure what was going on! Nope... it was a girl's weekend!
Once again, Van proved that he knew me better than I knew myself. LA (actually Santa Monica) was a PERFECT place for the four or us to hang... I had been completely wrong. It wasn't frou frou at all! We were in this great house, less than a mile from the beach. We had bikes, and we biked ALL OVER Santa Monica... down by the beach, to the shops, out to dinner even.. (which if you know me, you know I am OBSESSED with biking). It was the perfect combo of plenty of "outdoorsy/adventure" type activities combined with enough "city" entertainments such as good restaurants, and lots of good shopping (which we did plenty of!!)!
It was SUCH a great surprise... and a great way to end my 2nd decade of life. I turned 30 on May 21st, and that same day I flew home. After being on such a high, I felt kind of low, when the girls left me to fly to Nashville two hours before my flight to San Antonio. It continued when I arrived, and Van was late picking me up... and then told me he had a lot to do with work and so he dropped me off at the house (by myself)... where I just sat around doing nothing. So I cried. Four times, actually. The worst part of a high is the low that can come after... I decided that 30 was terrible... everything leading to 30 was great, but this day, the actual birthday, was terrible. I didn't like the sound of 30. I didn't want to be 30.
On the birthday (Tuesday), during one of my cries about how I hated how "thirty" sounded, Van told me that he was taking me to my parents' in Houston the next day... because he wasn't putting up with this for another day. So the following morning, we headed to Houston so that he could work there for a few days (part of his territory) and I could avoid being sad and lonely. We stayed from Wednesday to Friday... and on Friday, as we were heading out, I told him maybe we should just stay another day. But we were already packed up, so he didn't have to push hard to get back to San Antonio...
Mom and Dad mentioned on Friday before we left that they might come over on Saturday... that they had been thinking about visiting a pastor in Corpus Christi or one in New Braunfuls... which isn't too far from us. That's so typical of them - last minute planning, that I thought nothing of it. I mentioned several times that I had this groupon for an Italian restaurant that was going to expire, so we should use it... but they would never agree to anything... (again typical that they won't set anything in stone)... so I thought nothing of it. Mom started talking on Saturday when they arrived about how she wanted Mexican food (a common craving of hers, as it's her favorite), so after several unsuccessful attempts at enticing her with a "free" Italian meal (which I thought would trump the Mexican food craving), I kind of dropped the Italian restaurant groupon suggestion. Van told me that he had gone ahead and made reservations at Aldaco's (my favorite Mexican restaurant here) for 7 p.m. I thought that was very proactive for him, but blew it off again... I mentioned the Italian groupon once more and Mom said she really wanted Mexican... so I told her that Van had made reservations at one place, but that maybe we should go to Chueys instead... she said, "We'll see. We don't have to decide right now, do we?" They played their roles well - because this sounds like something she would say anyways, although maybe a little more aggressive than normal.
When we arrived at Aldaco's (almost late because I had gone to the grocery store around five, left my phone at home, stayed way too long, and then arrived home with loads of groceries, suggesting that I just cook instead of going out... once again unknowingly trying to sabotage their dinner plan attempts), the hostess told Van who had said, "Reservations for Oldham party of six", "They're already on the patio." I thought she meant that part of the "party of six" that he had requested was on the patio... and as this is a happening, busy place, often with a long wait, I said, "WHO is on the patio?" Followed by the thoughts, "SOME GROUP has taken our reservations!!??" (Van says I'm such a cynic, that I would assume the worst instead of guessing what it actually was.)
When I walked out on the patio, I was looking for an empty table for six... and there was none. I saw this big group, and just about the time that I was going to tell Van that this big group had taken our reservations/table, I saw my friend Jenna's husband, Brett. And the big group that I thought had stollen our reservation yelled, "SURPRISE!" I was COMPLETELY floored. I think I was even more surprised than the whole LA thing... because this time I had completely forgotten about the birthday... and definitely assumed that nothing else was planned, after having had such an elaborate birthday celebration.
It was AWESOME! I enjoyed it so much.. having all of my amazing and fun San Antonio friends together, and having them meet my parents and brothers. I went home on a TOTAL high, ending my birthday celebrations feeling so loved and blessed.
Van REALLY outdid himself! I am such a lucky girl.
And after being 30 for a month, I've decided it's tolerable. haha I did run a mile the other day a minute and a half faster than normal. I told Van that some of my friends say that they feel like their bodies are stronger and healthier at thirty than at twenty, and that, "THIS MUST BE TRUE because I am usually such a bad runner!" So I'm finding the positives. How can a year that started so well be anything but great?
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Give me Joy
May 2, 2013
One day when Van and I were dating, as he drove away from my Mom and Dad's house, my dad noticed the tire cover on the back of his pathfinder. It said, "Life is Good." I'd never really thought much about it, as the "Life is Good" logo had become fairly popular among my generation, and you could see it on mugs, t-shirts, or hats regularly. But my Dad noticed it and said something to the effect of, "That's pretty much his attitude all the time, isn't it?" And for the first time maybe ever, I paused to realize that Van had the gift of happiness. I think it was a turning point in our relationship. Where I had before seen his happiness as almost a silliness, in the seconds that followed, I recognized that his happiness was really a joy that was contagious and that I was a better person because of it.
In several of my more recent posts about the fertility road that I have been on, I have mentioned how that I am grateful for the experience because I can clearly see how I have changed for the better. I've used words like, "storms", "trials" and "journey" to describe my experience... but one thing I think I have failed to mention is the possibility to have joy despite the uncertainty. Maybe I've failed to realize it as "joy" because I have only recently realized that possibility myself.
Recently while talking with my Dad about my frustrations (not so much about fertility this time, but rather my job), he began to describe the people in Haiti that he worked with for several years on a monthly basis. He had watched them living in poverty and heartache yet full of pure joy. He encouraged me to realize that joy was something that could surpass a surrounding or an experience. It was from within... and could be attained despite circumstances. Joy isn't necessarily happiness... actually I think happiness is a by product that comes after joy. Joy is the peaceful release of contentment.
This morning, while reading the Bible before work, I came across a note by Eugene Peterson (in the translation "The Message - Conversations with it's translator" which includes some of Peterson's notes in the side margin) that said the following:
One day when Van and I were dating, as he drove away from my Mom and Dad's house, my dad noticed the tire cover on the back of his pathfinder. It said, "Life is Good." I'd never really thought much about it, as the "Life is Good" logo had become fairly popular among my generation, and you could see it on mugs, t-shirts, or hats regularly. But my Dad noticed it and said something to the effect of, "That's pretty much his attitude all the time, isn't it?" And for the first time maybe ever, I paused to realize that Van had the gift of happiness. I think it was a turning point in our relationship. Where I had before seen his happiness as almost a silliness, in the seconds that followed, I recognized that his happiness was really a joy that was contagious and that I was a better person because of it.
In several of my more recent posts about the fertility road that I have been on, I have mentioned how that I am grateful for the experience because I can clearly see how I have changed for the better. I've used words like, "storms", "trials" and "journey" to describe my experience... but one thing I think I have failed to mention is the possibility to have joy despite the uncertainty. Maybe I've failed to realize it as "joy" because I have only recently realized that possibility myself.
Recently while talking with my Dad about my frustrations (not so much about fertility this time, but rather my job), he began to describe the people in Haiti that he worked with for several years on a monthly basis. He had watched them living in poverty and heartache yet full of pure joy. He encouraged me to realize that joy was something that could surpass a surrounding or an experience. It was from within... and could be attained despite circumstances. Joy isn't necessarily happiness... actually I think happiness is a by product that comes after joy. Joy is the peaceful release of contentment.
This morning, while reading the Bible before work, I came across a note by Eugene Peterson (in the translation "The Message - Conversations with it's translator" which includes some of Peterson's notes in the side margin) that said the following:
"Go back as far as you can in prerecorded history, back to the dawn of the universe and there you'll find joy. The creation is characterized by celebration (Job 38:7, Proverbs 8:22-31). Turning to the time of the New Testament, Christ was characterized by joy (John 8:29, 15:11). In the parable of the prodigal son, heaven in the present was characterized by joy, feasting, music, and dancing (Luke 15:11-32). Finally, looking forward to the future, John shows us a picture of heaven (Revelation 10:6-9). It will be a feast where the people shout, "Let us celebrate, let us rejoice" (verse 7).
The story of faith begins and ends in joy. And in between, there is joy. Joy permeated Pauls life, especially in the place you would have least expected it - in prison (see the book of Phillippians). For more than twenty centuries, Christians have been exhibiting joy. There have been sad, even morose, Christians to be sure. But the ones who have inspired us have been marked by joy. In fact, when the Roman Catholic Church looked for reasons to canonize a Christian as a "saint", one of the standard qualifications was the evidence of "hilaritas", a Latin word that means "cheerfulness, good-humor, joyousness, merriment, hilarity." In other words, they had to be joyful people capable of laughing, praising, and celebrating, which is what rankled the Pharises about Jesus (Matthew 11:17-19; also compare Luke 15:1-2 with verse 32). Jesus was certainly a man of sorrows, able to enter into the grief at a funeral, but he was also a man of joy, able to enter into the merriment of a wedding (compare John 11:1-35 with 2:1-11).
Like Paul. Like Jesus. And like the people in 1 Chronicles 29 (where this note is found...). Anyone who gets in touch with God, gets in touch with joy. All true joy is derivative. It doesn't orginate from the world. It doesn't originate from us. It originates from him. and when we get close to him, it rubs off.
Prayer:Dear Lord of all that can rightly be called joyDraw me so close to the Source of that joythat it would rub off on me.Help me to live an exuberant life,full of laughter and song,feasting and dancing,the fellowship of good friends,and the joyful anticipation of meeting new ones.Help me to celebrate every gift that comes from your hand,whether the holy sacrament of Scripture or the holy sacrament of sex.Give me a grateful heart, O Lord,wonderfully, cheerfully, hilariously grateful.And though I may never become a saint,may I ever celebrate like one.I have so much to celebrate, Lord.As I close my eyes to reflect on some of those things,bring a smile to my face.No correct that. Bring laughter..."
I really loved these thoughts today... I love that God has been creating in me to a more joyful heart for years even if I didn't see the exact work going on. I love that he knew what kind of husband I would need... to help me reach this spot in my life. And I am grateful to be able to have found a joy that gives me the ability to say, as the writer of Habakkuk says in Habakkuk 3:17-19:
Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
We have a chance...
I am sad today because I have been thinking, and I have come to the conclusion that Christians have spent so much time preaching hell, that we've failed to teach on redemption.
Today I read an article online about how that the Pentagon is meeting with an "anti-Christian extremist" in attempts to create it's policy on "religious tolerance". I realize that much of what is written on the internet is inaccurate and or taken out of context, but if it is correct (which I fear it must have some truth to it), then it is further proof of the hypocritical mantra that so many on the left preach: freedom and love for all followed by belittling and hating of a group (in this case, Christians) for their religious beliefs. I am tired of hearing the word "tolerance" when the definition has actually come to have a hidden clause attached to it: "tolerance, as long as you believe what I believe".
Back in February Van and I visited Oregon for the first time together. It was Van's first time to really get to spend any quality time in Oregon, and my first time back since I moved away when I was sixteen. We had a great time, but at brunch one morning, he asked me about my experience living there... he said that he knew others would find it surprising, but he kind of felt that the people there were very "closed-minded". (Despite the fact that they pride themselves in being very open minded.) He made the case that he as a middle class, white, American, Christian male from the South, lacking any tattoos, piercings, and having never dyed his hair seemed not only out of place but disdained. Later that afternoon we met up with one of his close childhood friends, Ben, who moved to Portland after college, years ago. His wife Jenn, who also met up with us was raised in Oregon. Her father is transgender, and she is in no way religious. But she and I hit it off immediately... and so in keeping with my tendency to be completely honest and transparent, I asked her if this perception of Van's was true... would Van and I find ourselves outcasts in this city? Her answer: undeniably YES. She explained that she saw the hypocrisy in this, and that it had in more recent years bothered her as well. She too, from a completely opposite political and social background had come to realize that the word "tolerance" really meant tolerance for a select group.
I have a lot of really diverse friends. I love socializing more than just about anyone I know, and I think I can literally have a good time with anyone whether it's my two year old niece or our 80 year neighbors in Maine...So, naturally over the years I have accumulated a large group of friends... and even larger group of Facebook friends. My "friend" group includes people from all over the US: Oregon, Maine, Tennessee, Texas, and many states in between, as well as many European friends. I generally avoid any polarizing topics on my Facebook, simply because I prefer to keep my Facebook page down to earth and easy going. And what I hate more than anything are long wall posts where various friends of friends get into fights with each other. It's just not my style. So I kind of knew I was opening a can of worms this morning when I posted the article I had read... but then again, I am concerned about it... and I do think it's something worth thinking about.
Despite thinking it would be a total can of worms, I was really pleased with how my friends responded to each other. As expected, not all of the commenters were in agreement with the others...but for the most part they all maintained a respectful attitude towards the disagreeing party. What was interesting was this: instead of seeing the article as concerning, my more liberal friends saw it as an opportunity to bring up social rights issues, making points that I didn't all together disagree with... but then again, that wasn't the point of the article. The article didn't even mention these social issues. It simply mentioned Christians and their potential persecution for their beliefs. (This lack of sympathy for Christians is a whole other blog in itself... but for today I want to focus on what is wrong with we Christians...)
My question to myself was, "Why are we as Christians labeled by these social issues? (i.e. is this what we are really about?)" Of course, I don't think so... but obviously a lot of people do. I think it is sad that so many Americans (many of which are Christians) have chosen to make certain social issues (i.e. gay rights) a primary issue of debate, despite living just as much of a "sinful" life (according to Christianity), having pre-marital sex, adulterous affairs, getting drunk, lying, gossiping, back biting...
Jesus, Himself, said to take the plank out of your own eye before you try to get the speck out of your brother's eye. We are all too guilty of ignoring our own sins, but quick to point out the sins of others.
Regarding homosexuality: I think that God created woman for man. You may call me nieve, but because I believed this, I waited until I married Van to have sex. I felt that pre-marital sex would be me behaving in a way that was not pleasing to God. My goal has always been to live my life, as imperfect as I am, in at least an attempt at striving towards perfection. As a Christian, I believe that life is not necessarily full of easy roads and blessings. I don't believe that everything we want or desire is actually what we need or should have (or God's will). For example, just because I waited to have sex didn't mean that I didn't want to have sex sooner. Or with other guys. It was just that I felt that I was called to live a life as pure as possible, and I tried to do that to the best of my ability, even if it meant ignoring my own desires. As a matter of fact, Jesus didn't say that a life following Him would involve having all of our desires fulfilled. He actually instructed us to love others... and to take up our cross and follow Him. Love others. Take up our cross. Love others. Take up our cross. I don't necessarily think it's our place to tell others what their cross is... I think we are to love them. And let Jesus do the judging. But with that being said, we who are Christians must be honest with ourselves and our Christian brothers and sisters... and we must recognize the crosses that we are to bare. I absolutely believe that there are people who have desires for gay relationships. That they don't choose these desires... but that they crave them, just as heterosexuals have cravings. But I believe that just having a desire does not make it "correct" or "ok" and that perhaps this is their cross in their life that they are to bare.
But what was most disconcerting to me was that one of my friends referred to hell as this place that we are threatening or scaring people with... which is how I started this blog out... (thank goodness... there will be an end to this blog? ha)
And that's when I decided that we have spent too much time talking about hell and not enough time talking about the freedom of redemption.
The basic concepts of Christianity are this: God created us with free will because free will is where love exists. If you are in a relationship against your will, how can you call it a relationship? It's more like a slave or a robot... someone doing something because they're forced to isn't special. Love is love because you choose it and because it is given freely and without force. So wanting a true "relationship" with us, God gave us free will. And we as a human race chose to use free will to pursue our own desires... which resulted in sin. Sin entered into the human DNA, and we became a despairing race. A dying world without any hope. No hope... not because God is mean, but because sin is a terminal disease that requires death. We must die. We were condemned. Lost. Hopeless. Sick. There is no "good" that is "good enough" to alleviate the disease... we have the genetics of self desire, greed, hate all within us... and we cannot redeem or "heal" ourselves. We cannot overcome. Since sin demands death, death was required... but we Christians believe that Jesus gave His life to give us the chance to be redeemed. I was guilty and He took my place. It's not meanness or lack of love that He warned us of hell... it's where we ALL were going... and He offered us a new chance. A freedom, a way out. Hell was what we had... He brought us a new story of redemption.
For me it all kind of goes back to the "epiphany" I had last September... when I came to the realization that the only "unfair" thing in this world was that Jesus Christ, innocent and perfect, was unfairly accused and mistreated for my sake. And that if I never received another blessing... if I never had another desire fulfilled... the grace that He offers to me in salvation alone is still far more than I could ever deserve.
And what I want people to see in my life... the only thing I can offer back to Him... is the exuberant, exciting, wonderful story of redemption. I believe hell is real... but I also believe that the big story isn't hell... it's that WE HAVE A CHANCE... we have a Savior... that redemption is real. I hope that I never ruin my chance to tell someone about the love of God because I made it my first priority to disagree with them... rather than loving them first... and then talking second.
Today I read an article online about how that the Pentagon is meeting with an "anti-Christian extremist" in attempts to create it's policy on "religious tolerance". I realize that much of what is written on the internet is inaccurate and or taken out of context, but if it is correct (which I fear it must have some truth to it), then it is further proof of the hypocritical mantra that so many on the left preach: freedom and love for all followed by belittling and hating of a group (in this case, Christians) for their religious beliefs. I am tired of hearing the word "tolerance" when the definition has actually come to have a hidden clause attached to it: "tolerance, as long as you believe what I believe".
Back in February Van and I visited Oregon for the first time together. It was Van's first time to really get to spend any quality time in Oregon, and my first time back since I moved away when I was sixteen. We had a great time, but at brunch one morning, he asked me about my experience living there... he said that he knew others would find it surprising, but he kind of felt that the people there were very "closed-minded". (Despite the fact that they pride themselves in being very open minded.) He made the case that he as a middle class, white, American, Christian male from the South, lacking any tattoos, piercings, and having never dyed his hair seemed not only out of place but disdained. Later that afternoon we met up with one of his close childhood friends, Ben, who moved to Portland after college, years ago. His wife Jenn, who also met up with us was raised in Oregon. Her father is transgender, and she is in no way religious. But she and I hit it off immediately... and so in keeping with my tendency to be completely honest and transparent, I asked her if this perception of Van's was true... would Van and I find ourselves outcasts in this city? Her answer: undeniably YES. She explained that she saw the hypocrisy in this, and that it had in more recent years bothered her as well. She too, from a completely opposite political and social background had come to realize that the word "tolerance" really meant tolerance for a select group.
I have a lot of really diverse friends. I love socializing more than just about anyone I know, and I think I can literally have a good time with anyone whether it's my two year old niece or our 80 year neighbors in Maine...So, naturally over the years I have accumulated a large group of friends... and even larger group of Facebook friends. My "friend" group includes people from all over the US: Oregon, Maine, Tennessee, Texas, and many states in between, as well as many European friends. I generally avoid any polarizing topics on my Facebook, simply because I prefer to keep my Facebook page down to earth and easy going. And what I hate more than anything are long wall posts where various friends of friends get into fights with each other. It's just not my style. So I kind of knew I was opening a can of worms this morning when I posted the article I had read... but then again, I am concerned about it... and I do think it's something worth thinking about.
Despite thinking it would be a total can of worms, I was really pleased with how my friends responded to each other. As expected, not all of the commenters were in agreement with the others...but for the most part they all maintained a respectful attitude towards the disagreeing party. What was interesting was this: instead of seeing the article as concerning, my more liberal friends saw it as an opportunity to bring up social rights issues, making points that I didn't all together disagree with... but then again, that wasn't the point of the article. The article didn't even mention these social issues. It simply mentioned Christians and their potential persecution for their beliefs. (This lack of sympathy for Christians is a whole other blog in itself... but for today I want to focus on what is wrong with we Christians...)
My question to myself was, "Why are we as Christians labeled by these social issues? (i.e. is this what we are really about?)" Of course, I don't think so... but obviously a lot of people do. I think it is sad that so many Americans (many of which are Christians) have chosen to make certain social issues (i.e. gay rights) a primary issue of debate, despite living just as much of a "sinful" life (according to Christianity), having pre-marital sex, adulterous affairs, getting drunk, lying, gossiping, back biting...
Jesus, Himself, said to take the plank out of your own eye before you try to get the speck out of your brother's eye. We are all too guilty of ignoring our own sins, but quick to point out the sins of others.
Regarding homosexuality: I think that God created woman for man. You may call me nieve, but because I believed this, I waited until I married Van to have sex. I felt that pre-marital sex would be me behaving in a way that was not pleasing to God. My goal has always been to live my life, as imperfect as I am, in at least an attempt at striving towards perfection. As a Christian, I believe that life is not necessarily full of easy roads and blessings. I don't believe that everything we want or desire is actually what we need or should have (or God's will). For example, just because I waited to have sex didn't mean that I didn't want to have sex sooner. Or with other guys. It was just that I felt that I was called to live a life as pure as possible, and I tried to do that to the best of my ability, even if it meant ignoring my own desires. As a matter of fact, Jesus didn't say that a life following Him would involve having all of our desires fulfilled. He actually instructed us to love others... and to take up our cross and follow Him. Love others. Take up our cross. Love others. Take up our cross. I don't necessarily think it's our place to tell others what their cross is... I think we are to love them. And let Jesus do the judging. But with that being said, we who are Christians must be honest with ourselves and our Christian brothers and sisters... and we must recognize the crosses that we are to bare. I absolutely believe that there are people who have desires for gay relationships. That they don't choose these desires... but that they crave them, just as heterosexuals have cravings. But I believe that just having a desire does not make it "correct" or "ok" and that perhaps this is their cross in their life that they are to bare.
But what was most disconcerting to me was that one of my friends referred to hell as this place that we are threatening or scaring people with... which is how I started this blog out... (thank goodness... there will be an end to this blog? ha)
And that's when I decided that we have spent too much time talking about hell and not enough time talking about the freedom of redemption.
The basic concepts of Christianity are this: God created us with free will because free will is where love exists. If you are in a relationship against your will, how can you call it a relationship? It's more like a slave or a robot... someone doing something because they're forced to isn't special. Love is love because you choose it and because it is given freely and without force. So wanting a true "relationship" with us, God gave us free will. And we as a human race chose to use free will to pursue our own desires... which resulted in sin. Sin entered into the human DNA, and we became a despairing race. A dying world without any hope. No hope... not because God is mean, but because sin is a terminal disease that requires death. We must die. We were condemned. Lost. Hopeless. Sick. There is no "good" that is "good enough" to alleviate the disease... we have the genetics of self desire, greed, hate all within us... and we cannot redeem or "heal" ourselves. We cannot overcome. Since sin demands death, death was required... but we Christians believe that Jesus gave His life to give us the chance to be redeemed. I was guilty and He took my place. It's not meanness or lack of love that He warned us of hell... it's where we ALL were going... and He offered us a new chance. A freedom, a way out. Hell was what we had... He brought us a new story of redemption.
For me it all kind of goes back to the "epiphany" I had last September... when I came to the realization that the only "unfair" thing in this world was that Jesus Christ, innocent and perfect, was unfairly accused and mistreated for my sake. And that if I never received another blessing... if I never had another desire fulfilled... the grace that He offers to me in salvation alone is still far more than I could ever deserve.
And what I want people to see in my life... the only thing I can offer back to Him... is the exuberant, exciting, wonderful story of redemption. I believe hell is real... but I also believe that the big story isn't hell... it's that WE HAVE A CHANCE... we have a Savior... that redemption is real. I hope that I never ruin my chance to tell someone about the love of God because I made it my first priority to disagree with them... rather than loving them first... and then talking second.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
"Virtual" changes
I have often marveled at the quick pace of change that my grandparents and great-grandparents generation saw. In a matter of just a few years, they went from horses and buggies to automobiles and then space travel. I have often assumed that I would not see such change in my own life... we kind of seemed advanced enough already.
But this week it occurred to me that ten years ago I was living in Alicante, Spain. It was a time pre-facebook and pre-skype. I was paying by the minute at an internet cafe to instant message friends and check my e-mail. I had a film camera. And the only music I had with me were the c.d.s I had brought and bought, whereas the MP3s that I had downloaded on my computer back in the States were kind of just stuck on the computer.
So where my grandparents saw rapid changes and advancements in travel, I have seen rapid advancements in communication and technology. When I was born, computers filled entire rooms, and now I have three in my house, two of which are portable, plus two iPhones which are essentially pocket computers. When I was born, everyone had a landline (which Van and I have never had). I remember when caller i.d. was the new thing, and I know what a busy sound on a phone sounds like (because some people - like my Mom - thought "call waiting" was rude...)
What changes have you seen? I think that so often the changes are so subtle we don't even realize it's happening... maybe we never even consider all the things that have changed around us - and even within us.
One month from today I will be thirty!! Time sure does fly when you're having fun!
What I do not want is to avoid embracing the changes that come... over the last ten years, as one of the "youth" I have accepted all of the changes with patience and enjoyment. I liked having an iPod better than a disc man. I have liked having cell phones, communicating through Facebook, and all of the other small subtle changes that I have seen... but as I pass into another decade, I want to continue to learn... to stay sharp with the advancements, and to not despair the changes that are occurring... because not all changes are bad.
But this week it occurred to me that ten years ago I was living in Alicante, Spain. It was a time pre-facebook and pre-skype. I was paying by the minute at an internet cafe to instant message friends and check my e-mail. I had a film camera. And the only music I had with me were the c.d.s I had brought and bought, whereas the MP3s that I had downloaded on my computer back in the States were kind of just stuck on the computer.
So where my grandparents saw rapid changes and advancements in travel, I have seen rapid advancements in communication and technology. When I was born, computers filled entire rooms, and now I have three in my house, two of which are portable, plus two iPhones which are essentially pocket computers. When I was born, everyone had a landline (which Van and I have never had). I remember when caller i.d. was the new thing, and I know what a busy sound on a phone sounds like (because some people - like my Mom - thought "call waiting" was rude...)
What changes have you seen? I think that so often the changes are so subtle we don't even realize it's happening... maybe we never even consider all the things that have changed around us - and even within us.
One month from today I will be thirty!! Time sure does fly when you're having fun!
What I do not want is to avoid embracing the changes that come... over the last ten years, as one of the "youth" I have accepted all of the changes with patience and enjoyment. I liked having an iPod better than a disc man. I have liked having cell phones, communicating through Facebook, and all of the other small subtle changes that I have seen... but as I pass into another decade, I want to continue to learn... to stay sharp with the advancements, and to not despair the changes that are occurring... because not all changes are bad.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
heaven
Sometimes profound does not equal complex.
There is an old, hispanic man who my parents have become friends with since they moved to Texas. He is a man in his 80s. His ways are simple. His name is "Brother Bustos".
Brother Bustos said that when he was a little boy he loved to play up underneath the porch of his home, despite the fact that it was dirty and full of cobwebs, spiders, and other bugs.
When Brother Bustos was an adult he was praying one day and he said that the Lord spoke to his heart and asked him what was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A lover of the night sky, he prayerfully responded back that the stars were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And then God spoke back to his heart, saying that the stars were underneath His home. Brother Bustos was then reminded of his childhood, and the comparisons of the underneath of his porch and the actual house and thought in amazement, "oh, if the stars are the underneath of His porch... how much more grand is His home!"
What a touching and profound thought.
My cousin Jake (who I wrote about in my last blog) told me that his littlest brother Jeremiah (who is 15) has been having a lot of dreams about their Mom lately. Jake and Jeremiah were talking about heaven one day and Jeremiah started explaining to Jake that he sort of was understanding heaven by these Iron Man previews he'd been seeing... Jeremiah is super excited to see the soon to be released Iron Man, but right now all he can do is anticipate. He loves watching the previews, which sort of give him a taste of what is coming... although they don't totally satisfy the desire. He told Jake that he believed the dreams he had been having were God's previews for his future... while they do not satisfy his desire for heaven or being reunited with his Mom, they do wet his appetite and satisfy the longing even if just a little bit.
Simple and yet profound.
There is an old, hispanic man who my parents have become friends with since they moved to Texas. He is a man in his 80s. His ways are simple. His name is "Brother Bustos".
Brother Bustos said that when he was a little boy he loved to play up underneath the porch of his home, despite the fact that it was dirty and full of cobwebs, spiders, and other bugs.
When Brother Bustos was an adult he was praying one day and he said that the Lord spoke to his heart and asked him what was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A lover of the night sky, he prayerfully responded back that the stars were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And then God spoke back to his heart, saying that the stars were underneath His home. Brother Bustos was then reminded of his childhood, and the comparisons of the underneath of his porch and the actual house and thought in amazement, "oh, if the stars are the underneath of His porch... how much more grand is His home!"
What a touching and profound thought.
My cousin Jake (who I wrote about in my last blog) told me that his littlest brother Jeremiah (who is 15) has been having a lot of dreams about their Mom lately. Jake and Jeremiah were talking about heaven one day and Jeremiah started explaining to Jake that he sort of was understanding heaven by these Iron Man previews he'd been seeing... Jeremiah is super excited to see the soon to be released Iron Man, but right now all he can do is anticipate. He loves watching the previews, which sort of give him a taste of what is coming... although they don't totally satisfy the desire. He told Jake that he believed the dreams he had been having were God's previews for his future... while they do not satisfy his desire for heaven or being reunited with his Mom, they do wet his appetite and satisfy the longing even if just a little bit.
Simple and yet profound.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Four men and a Lady.
The older I get the more of a sentimental sap I am becoming. I use to laugh at my Mom for crying at commercials. But, here I am inching my way towards thirty, and with every day closer to that age, I find myself becoming a little bit softer around the edges. Maybe that is a good thing. I'm kind of thinking so. I use to pride myself on my tough exterior, but I'm beginning to value the ability to sympathize with others more than the pride that it takes to avoid a tear or two.
Today I cried a lot. But it was mostly good tears. My cousin got engaged on Easter Sunday. He told me the story today... which lead to my tears. I think it's as good as anything in a movie, so I'm gonna share it with you.
My Aunt Marietta who was beautiful and very girly was blessed with three sons. Three farm-boy sons. She loved Mary Kay. They loved milking cows. She loved high heels. They loved hauling hay. Sometimes she made comments about how she looked forward to when her boys grew up and got married so that she could finally have a daughter. But two years ago on Easter Sunday, my Aunt Marietta at the young age of 44 died after enduring through the pain of breast cancer. The funeral home said it was the largest crowd they had ever seen at a visitation. People waited in line for more than two hours to give their condolences to the grieving family members and to pay their respects to this God-fearing, life-loving, warm-hearted, devoted-Mother of 3, friend to all.
The past two years have not been easy on the small, grieving family of 4 men that were left behind. Her youngest son was only in the 7th grade. My uncle had depended on her for so much of the domestic responsibilities that in the beginning they rarely knew what or how to make a dinner for themselves. Like any family that has lost a key member, her lack of presence was keenly felt. How do you get past such a tragic loss?
Slowly but surely, life has continued on. Not the same. But on. Jake, the oldest of her sons really stepped up to the plate of responsibility, taking on much of the care-taking of his youngest brother Jeremiah. And so I have worried about him. Not because I did not think that he could not handle the task, but because I feared he would be so busy filling the gap that his Mom's absence had left, that he would be unable to move forward with his life. That maybe he would get stuck being a care-taker until too many years had passed, and he had missed out on finding a wife and having a family.
About a year ago Jake started dating a girl from his hometown. They'd known each other for several years, but one day he stopped by the store where she worked, and he said he just saw her differently. His eyes were opened, and so he walked up to her and asked her to have dinner with him that night. For the last year, she has become a part of these men's lives... four men and a lady. She has cooked for them, doted on them, washed clothes for them, and brought out the best in my cousin. He told me that recently he just couldn't get asking her to marry him off of his mind. So one day, not able to take it any longer, he left his hay in the fields and headed to a jewelry store.
On Saturday night before Easter, Lauren put Easter eggs filled with candy on the table for Jake and his brothers. So the next morning, when she stopped on her way to church and Jake told her there was an Easter egg in the yard for her, she assumed he was giving her a similar gift of chocolates... until he got on one knee. The ring was in the egg. Jake told her that Easter had been a sad day for him for several years, now, but that he felt his Mom would not want it to be that way... that'd she want him to turn it around. But the only way this day could make him happy was if Lauren would agree to be his wife.
My cousin is a farmer. He didn't go to college. Cattle is one of his top five favorite pieces of convo. He thinks that I talk like a "Yankee" because I say "double-you" instead of "dubbya", and he kind of prides himself in being old fashioned and traditional - despite the fact that he is 25. But he has a good heart. And he pulled off one of the sweetest, most heart-felt, meaningful proposals I've ever heard of in real life or in the movies... and I know his Mom would be proud and thrilled. I certainly am!
Today I cried a lot. But it was mostly good tears. My cousin got engaged on Easter Sunday. He told me the story today... which lead to my tears. I think it's as good as anything in a movie, so I'm gonna share it with you.
My Aunt Marietta who was beautiful and very girly was blessed with three sons. Three farm-boy sons. She loved Mary Kay. They loved milking cows. She loved high heels. They loved hauling hay. Sometimes she made comments about how she looked forward to when her boys grew up and got married so that she could finally have a daughter. But two years ago on Easter Sunday, my Aunt Marietta at the young age of 44 died after enduring through the pain of breast cancer. The funeral home said it was the largest crowd they had ever seen at a visitation. People waited in line for more than two hours to give their condolences to the grieving family members and to pay their respects to this God-fearing, life-loving, warm-hearted, devoted-Mother of 3, friend to all.
The past two years have not been easy on the small, grieving family of 4 men that were left behind. Her youngest son was only in the 7th grade. My uncle had depended on her for so much of the domestic responsibilities that in the beginning they rarely knew what or how to make a dinner for themselves. Like any family that has lost a key member, her lack of presence was keenly felt. How do you get past such a tragic loss?
Slowly but surely, life has continued on. Not the same. But on. Jake, the oldest of her sons really stepped up to the plate of responsibility, taking on much of the care-taking of his youngest brother Jeremiah. And so I have worried about him. Not because I did not think that he could not handle the task, but because I feared he would be so busy filling the gap that his Mom's absence had left, that he would be unable to move forward with his life. That maybe he would get stuck being a care-taker until too many years had passed, and he had missed out on finding a wife and having a family.
About a year ago Jake started dating a girl from his hometown. They'd known each other for several years, but one day he stopped by the store where she worked, and he said he just saw her differently. His eyes were opened, and so he walked up to her and asked her to have dinner with him that night. For the last year, she has become a part of these men's lives... four men and a lady. She has cooked for them, doted on them, washed clothes for them, and brought out the best in my cousin. He told me that recently he just couldn't get asking her to marry him off of his mind. So one day, not able to take it any longer, he left his hay in the fields and headed to a jewelry store.
On Saturday night before Easter, Lauren put Easter eggs filled with candy on the table for Jake and his brothers. So the next morning, when she stopped on her way to church and Jake told her there was an Easter egg in the yard for her, she assumed he was giving her a similar gift of chocolates... until he got on one knee. The ring was in the egg. Jake told her that Easter had been a sad day for him for several years, now, but that he felt his Mom would not want it to be that way... that'd she want him to turn it around. But the only way this day could make him happy was if Lauren would agree to be his wife.
My cousin is a farmer. He didn't go to college. Cattle is one of his top five favorite pieces of convo. He thinks that I talk like a "Yankee" because I say "double-you" instead of "dubbya", and he kind of prides himself in being old fashioned and traditional - despite the fact that he is 25. But he has a good heart. And he pulled off one of the sweetest, most heart-felt, meaningful proposals I've ever heard of in real life or in the movies... and I know his Mom would be proud and thrilled. I certainly am!
Sunday, March 31, 2013
the story behind our communion
Last Sunday, which began the week of the Jewish holiday, Passover, we got to hear a great message from a Messianic Jew (a man of Jewish heritage who has accepted Jesus as the Messiah) regarding the history of Passover. As a "gentile" - i.e. non-Jewish person, I have never given much thought to the Jewish holidays, but as I listened to His accounts of his people's history, I felt that it added a new spark and dimension of understanding to my own Christian roots, beliefs and traditions.
The passover meal includes multiple dishes and cups, each part of which is eaten or drank to remind the Jews of their slavery in Egypt and their miraculous salvation from that bondage. For example, one of the dishes included in passover are bitter herbs (usually horseradish) which when eaten bring tears to ones eyes and is to serve as a reminder of the tears shed during their bondage; there is another green (usually parsley) that is dipped in salt water, the salt water, once again reminding them of the tears and sweat shed during the enslavement. It really was a fascinating history and story, which I could not possibly repeat it in its entirety and do it justice (and so I would encourage you to consider reading up on it yourself...).
The one part that intrigued me most, and I admit brought tears to my eyes was what I really want to share...
There is this unleavened bread called "matzoh" that is included in the seder. The bread is divided into three pieces and stacked in a covering that is called the unity. No one seems to know why they divide it into three pieces. Some say it represents the three classes of people in ancient Israel: the priests, levites, and Israelites. Another tradition is that it is to symbolize the patriarchs of Israel: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. These perhaps are the two most common, although there are at least two more theories as to what reason this tradition was started.
What happens with the matzoh is this:
For some reason (unclear to the Jewish people today), the tradition with the matzoh is for the middle piece of unleavened (meaning without yeast - which represents contamination (i.e. sin)) bread ( and which in its baking is striped and pierced) bread to be broken and removed from the pouch in which the three pieces are encompassed (known as the unity). It is wrapped in linen cloth and buried and hidden somewhere in the house. This middle piece is known (by itself) as the "Afikomen", meaning "that which comes later", and some believe it is a derivitive of the Greek word "aphikomenos" - which means "the one who has arrived". After the meal, the children at the Passover seder go in search of the Afikomen and when found it is shared with the table as the "dessert" bread.
So if it represents the patriarchs, why is Isaac taken, broken, buried, and found? If it represents the classes of ancient Israel, why are the Levites taken, broken, buried, and found? Believers in Jesus as the Messiah can see that He explains the mystery of the Matzoh at the last supper with His disciples. The unity symbolizes the unique unity of the trinity, and the three pieces of bread within the unity represent the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit... and the Son is broken, wrapped in linens, buried, and later resurrected. As a matter of fact, it is this bread that Jesus said represented Him. "This is my body which was broken for you..."
There are four cups that are drank from during the seder. Two before the meal, and two at the end of the meal. The four cups represent the four "I will's" that God promised in Exodus 6:6-7. The first cup represents sanctification ("I will bring you out from under the burden of the Egyptians"). The second represents the plagues/judgement ("I will rid you of their bondage"). The third represents redemption ("I will redeem you with an outstretched arm"), and the fourth represents praise ("I will take you as my own people").
It is the third cup which comes after the Afikomen is eaten. It is the third cup, the cup of redemption, which was to represent the hope of God's redemption from slavery. It was this cup that Jesus lifted saying, "This is my blood, which is shed for you."
Understanding the MEANING behind these pieces of the passover meal make Jesus definition of them being His "body" and His "blood" so much more powerful, and thus helps me to value the act of communion more than I ever have before.
Even the timing of Jesus' death - the weekend of the Passover celebration, with Passover being the time of year that the Jews made sacrifices for the atonement of their sins - was a perfect representation of what His sacrifice was to mean. That He was the ultimate sacrifice. That his blood offers us redemption and salvation.
I know that my friends reading this blog are mostly all Christian, and so perhaps none of this is new to you, but being that today IS Easter - the day by which everything else in Christianity revolves around - I thought it was an important topic to address, and perhaps it is as informative and inspiring to you as it was me.
I'll finish with one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. It kind of sums up my understanding of Jesus and his resurrection... and how we must view it. Happy Easter!
"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: “I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.” That is the one thing we must not say. A man who said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” - CS Lewis
The passover meal includes multiple dishes and cups, each part of which is eaten or drank to remind the Jews of their slavery in Egypt and their miraculous salvation from that bondage. For example, one of the dishes included in passover are bitter herbs (usually horseradish) which when eaten bring tears to ones eyes and is to serve as a reminder of the tears shed during their bondage; there is another green (usually parsley) that is dipped in salt water, the salt water, once again reminding them of the tears and sweat shed during the enslavement. It really was a fascinating history and story, which I could not possibly repeat it in its entirety and do it justice (and so I would encourage you to consider reading up on it yourself...).
The one part that intrigued me most, and I admit brought tears to my eyes was what I really want to share...
There is this unleavened bread called "matzoh" that is included in the seder. The bread is divided into three pieces and stacked in a covering that is called the unity. No one seems to know why they divide it into three pieces. Some say it represents the three classes of people in ancient Israel: the priests, levites, and Israelites. Another tradition is that it is to symbolize the patriarchs of Israel: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. These perhaps are the two most common, although there are at least two more theories as to what reason this tradition was started.
What happens with the matzoh is this:
For some reason (unclear to the Jewish people today), the tradition with the matzoh is for the middle piece of unleavened (meaning without yeast - which represents contamination (i.e. sin)) bread ( and which in its baking is striped and pierced) bread to be broken and removed from the pouch in which the three pieces are encompassed (known as the unity). It is wrapped in linen cloth and buried and hidden somewhere in the house. This middle piece is known (by itself) as the "Afikomen", meaning "that which comes later", and some believe it is a derivitive of the Greek word "aphikomenos" - which means "the one who has arrived". After the meal, the children at the Passover seder go in search of the Afikomen and when found it is shared with the table as the "dessert" bread.
So if it represents the patriarchs, why is Isaac taken, broken, buried, and found? If it represents the classes of ancient Israel, why are the Levites taken, broken, buried, and found? Believers in Jesus as the Messiah can see that He explains the mystery of the Matzoh at the last supper with His disciples. The unity symbolizes the unique unity of the trinity, and the three pieces of bread within the unity represent the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit... and the Son is broken, wrapped in linens, buried, and later resurrected. As a matter of fact, it is this bread that Jesus said represented Him. "This is my body which was broken for you..."
There are four cups that are drank from during the seder. Two before the meal, and two at the end of the meal. The four cups represent the four "I will's" that God promised in Exodus 6:6-7. The first cup represents sanctification ("I will bring you out from under the burden of the Egyptians"). The second represents the plagues/judgement ("I will rid you of their bondage"). The third represents redemption ("I will redeem you with an outstretched arm"), and the fourth represents praise ("I will take you as my own people").
It is the third cup which comes after the Afikomen is eaten. It is the third cup, the cup of redemption, which was to represent the hope of God's redemption from slavery. It was this cup that Jesus lifted saying, "This is my blood, which is shed for you."
Understanding the MEANING behind these pieces of the passover meal make Jesus definition of them being His "body" and His "blood" so much more powerful, and thus helps me to value the act of communion more than I ever have before.
Even the timing of Jesus' death - the weekend of the Passover celebration, with Passover being the time of year that the Jews made sacrifices for the atonement of their sins - was a perfect representation of what His sacrifice was to mean. That He was the ultimate sacrifice. That his blood offers us redemption and salvation.
I know that my friends reading this blog are mostly all Christian, and so perhaps none of this is new to you, but being that today IS Easter - the day by which everything else in Christianity revolves around - I thought it was an important topic to address, and perhaps it is as informative and inspiring to you as it was me.
I'll finish with one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. It kind of sums up my understanding of Jesus and his resurrection... and how we must view it. Happy Easter!
"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: “I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claim to be God.” That is the one thing we must not say. A man who said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” - CS Lewis
Thursday, March 21, 2013
In my next ten years
Tim McGraw has a song called, "In my next 30 years". In it, he outlines things he'll do differently in his next thirty years, as opposed to his first thirty. It was used for one of my high school graduation photo slideshows (which I have a copy of on a VHS stuffed in a storage box of preserved memories). The song always made me a little sad as it sort of emphasized the regrets of the last 30 years and the hopes of the next thirty.
And then it occurred to me this morning that it has been TEN YEARS since my amazing, awesome, life-changing, adventurous semester abroad in Spain!
TEN YEARS. I just can't get over it. And I find myself being such an "OLD" person by genuinely asking myself, "Where did the time go??!". (Because only people who have enough of a past in years can really understand the concept of that question.)
I mean, I know during those ten years I: graduated from college, got my first nursing jobs, got married, moved to Maine, completed grad school, got my first anesthesia job, moved to Texas, and traveled extensively... but despite all of that, it's hard to believe that such a significant event was ten years ago. In some ways it seems that certain events and certain phases of life will last forever. They're too big, too important, too momentous to move past. Sometimes it just seems that the moment we live in (whether it is good or bad) will simply last forever.
And yet here I am with my sophomore year of college 10 years in the rearview mirror. Nineteen. I don't feel all that much older or different than I did at 19, but at nineteen, I would have thought 29 and quickly approaching 30 was a bit old... just as I currently think that 39 and quickly approaching 40 sounds kind of old (for me!) right now.
As I reflected this morning over the last ten years, I found that I can say I am pleased with how I spent them... I feel that I enjoyed my time thoroughly and that I relatively crammed the years full of life. And since staying 19 forever was never an option, I feel like what I did was the next best option and that these last ten years have actually been a wonderful ten years of getting older.
I think that the reason I am overall pleased with my last ten years is because (I believe) I have lived intentionally. I have set and completed goals. And thinking about this has kind of inspired me to make sure I do the same with my next ten years. For the most part, it was rather easy to live intentionally during these past ten, as I was making big life/career decisions. I was still in the "planning" phase of my life... planning what I wanted to be... who I wanted to be "it" with... but now it seems it would be really easy to fall into a "rut" of just being... with a lot of my biggest decisions behind me, I think I could easily pass the next ten years without as much thought or attention. And then I'd REALLY be wondering, "WHERE DID THE TIME GO?!" ten years from now...
You won't always be in college. You won't always be a newlywed. You won't always be single. You won't always have small children. You won't always be where you are now. Maybe the best way to live "intentionally" is to simply live in the present. When I was in Spain I spent a lot of time talking about two different boys... which one did I love... which one loved me... and who would I end up marrying. Funny because it seems that all of my worries were sort of pointless, as it eventually just worked itself out in time. And now, here I am looking BACK on those memories, married for over six years...
For the most part, I think I lived "intentionally" and "in the present" during that phase of life... but how easy and tempting it was to get caught up in planning for the someday when I was grown up and married, rather than focusing on the adventure of my present circumstance of being 19 and living in Spain? Boys and marriage should have consumed a little less of my thoughts and worries. And so I want to learn from this memory. I don't want to find myself always worrying about my future... missing out on the right now. I've seen that the future usually just has a way of working itself out, so there really is no reason to worry about it at all... as a line from a favorite song says, "worrying is as about as good as trying to solve an algebra problem by chewing bubblegum".
So I choose to be present. I choose to live intentionally. I choose to continue to have and set goals. I choose to enjoy the process and journey of time accomplishing said goals. I choose to enjoy the life I have been given. And I choose to be youthful even though I can't stop the aging.
Where will I be in ten years? Only God knows. But I hope to make them count.
And then it occurred to me this morning that it has been TEN YEARS since my amazing, awesome, life-changing, adventurous semester abroad in Spain!
TEN YEARS. I just can't get over it. And I find myself being such an "OLD" person by genuinely asking myself, "Where did the time go??!". (Because only people who have enough of a past in years can really understand the concept of that question.)
I mean, I know during those ten years I: graduated from college, got my first nursing jobs, got married, moved to Maine, completed grad school, got my first anesthesia job, moved to Texas, and traveled extensively... but despite all of that, it's hard to believe that such a significant event was ten years ago. In some ways it seems that certain events and certain phases of life will last forever. They're too big, too important, too momentous to move past. Sometimes it just seems that the moment we live in (whether it is good or bad) will simply last forever.
And yet here I am with my sophomore year of college 10 years in the rearview mirror. Nineteen. I don't feel all that much older or different than I did at 19, but at nineteen, I would have thought 29 and quickly approaching 30 was a bit old... just as I currently think that 39 and quickly approaching 40 sounds kind of old (for me!) right now.
As I reflected this morning over the last ten years, I found that I can say I am pleased with how I spent them... I feel that I enjoyed my time thoroughly and that I relatively crammed the years full of life. And since staying 19 forever was never an option, I feel like what I did was the next best option and that these last ten years have actually been a wonderful ten years of getting older.
I think that the reason I am overall pleased with my last ten years is because (I believe) I have lived intentionally. I have set and completed goals. And thinking about this has kind of inspired me to make sure I do the same with my next ten years. For the most part, it was rather easy to live intentionally during these past ten, as I was making big life/career decisions. I was still in the "planning" phase of my life... planning what I wanted to be... who I wanted to be "it" with... but now it seems it would be really easy to fall into a "rut" of just being... with a lot of my biggest decisions behind me, I think I could easily pass the next ten years without as much thought or attention. And then I'd REALLY be wondering, "WHERE DID THE TIME GO?!" ten years from now...
You won't always be in college. You won't always be a newlywed. You won't always be single. You won't always have small children. You won't always be where you are now. Maybe the best way to live "intentionally" is to simply live in the present. When I was in Spain I spent a lot of time talking about two different boys... which one did I love... which one loved me... and who would I end up marrying. Funny because it seems that all of my worries were sort of pointless, as it eventually just worked itself out in time. And now, here I am looking BACK on those memories, married for over six years...
For the most part, I think I lived "intentionally" and "in the present" during that phase of life... but how easy and tempting it was to get caught up in planning for the someday when I was grown up and married, rather than focusing on the adventure of my present circumstance of being 19 and living in Spain? Boys and marriage should have consumed a little less of my thoughts and worries. And so I want to learn from this memory. I don't want to find myself always worrying about my future... missing out on the right now. I've seen that the future usually just has a way of working itself out, so there really is no reason to worry about it at all... as a line from a favorite song says, "worrying is as about as good as trying to solve an algebra problem by chewing bubblegum".
So I choose to be present. I choose to live intentionally. I choose to continue to have and set goals. I choose to enjoy the process and journey of time accomplishing said goals. I choose to enjoy the life I have been given. And I choose to be youthful even though I can't stop the aging.
Where will I be in ten years? Only God knows. But I hope to make them count.
Monday, February 25, 2013
An addendum to "My Ultimate Goal"
Today in my morning devotion, I was reading in Experiencing God about how God pursues a love relationship with us. One thing I have enjoyed about the spiritual journey I've been on the last five or six months is that I have on more than one occasion had a scripture or a song or an idea given to me, and then how God continues to reinforce and confirm what He is speaking to me with other sources, even when I'm not looking for it. Which helps to validate in my (skeptical) heart that this idea/thought/etc is actually something God is saying to me.
Today during my reading, Blackaby makes the point that our present should be molded and shaped not by our past, but by our future -- i.e. who we will be eternally in Christ. After all, we weren't created for just time, but for eternity. In his explanation of this concept, he uses Phillipians 3:4-14, the scripture I recently eluded to in "My Ultimate Goal" post.
Paul says:
Paul says:
"I once had confidence in the flesh too. If anyone else thinks he has grounds for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised the eighth day; of the nation of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, persecuting the church; as to the righteousness that is in the law, blameless. (For a Jewish man, Paul could have said his "deck was stacked"! He had it all going for him! And so he lists all the things that would have been seen as favorable, so many that he says he had more grounds for boasting or confidence in such matters as anyone. But he uses the past tense, "once". As if he's a different person now. As if, he no longer as such confidence.)
So I paused. I certainly have put a lot of weight on own past accomplishments. The family I came from. The kind of "pure" life I lived as a teen. My accomplishments in school. The career I pursued. The age by which I attained these goals. etc. etc. But according to Paul, these things are not worth anything. They don't really matter. They should be of such insignificance to me that I could say, "these once belonged to me, but as of now, they do not even exist in my memory..."
And Paul continues:
"But everything that was a gain to me, I have considered to be a loss because of Christ. More than that, I also consider everything to be a loss in a view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Because of Him, not having a righteousness of my own from the law, but that is through faith in Christ - the righteousness from God based on faith. MY GOAL IS TO KNOW HIM and the power of His resurrection and the FELLOWSHIP of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, assuming that I will somehow reach the resurrection from among the dead.
So I paused again:
Paul looks at these former "positives' in his life and in comparison to knowing Christ he sees them as so invaluable and insignificant that they could be considered a loss. So the past successes and achievements are trash. The past doesn't matter. It's not who I am. The goal is to know Christ more. That's all that matters. And because that's the goal I can even find peace in the fellowship of His sufferings.
And then he continues:
"Not that I have already reached the goal or am already fully mature, but I make every effort to take hold of it because I also have been taken hold of by Christ Jesus. Brothers, I do not consider myself to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize promised by God's heavenly call in Christ Jesus.
And again I paused:
If Paul did not consider himself having reached this goal or fully mature in Christ, then I certainly know I am not! But like Him, I can pursue perfection - continually striving to forget what has been my past. Allowing my eternal relationship with Christ to mold my present state.
The one thing that I was impressed with while concentrating on this verse today was the fact that Paul had done everything "right". In my post "My Ultimate Goal" I mentioned how that Paul's later circumstances while serving as a missionary of Christ would most likely have been seen by anyone else as "setbacks" (i.e. the shipwrecks, the imprisonments, the beatings). Paul did not allow those circumstances to define his "success" in Christ, because his "goal" had changed. It wasn't success, but rather simply to know Christ more -- even in His sufferings. And so Paul embraced the "setbacks".
But today, in keeping with the former thoughts of success vs. setbacks, it seemed more apparent to me that after considering Paul's past that it would have been even more challenging to have accepted the "setbacks" that he faced as a follower of Christ. He had had it all going for Him... he'd done it all right... lived by the book... walked the line...how much HARDER would this have actually made it to accept the "setbacks" and frustrations that came later? How much would he have been tempted to have focused his thoughts on his past glories? Living with his thoughts on the past? How easy it would have been to have accused God of having taken all of Paul's promise and just thrown it down the toilet: and asked, "What was it all worth? My talent, my achievements, my efforts?"
Aren't we tempted to do that in our own lives? To define what makes us "worthwhile" by our past... what we accomplished... what we have done... what we still do? Those of us who feel like we "did it right" can easily find ourselves being disillusioned when we aren't given "favor" in our present life. But none of it matters. We first have to realize that the goal has changed so that we can properly adjust our priorities.
I'm not trying to say that God doesn't give us success or bless us. Paul also had success as a missionary in Christ. Despite the imprisonments, shipwrecks, beatings, etc. he was a powerful minister, writing a huge part of the Bible, successfully evangelizing to millions with his ministry that outlasted his life by thousands of years. I don't think a life in Christ is a life that is full of tragedy and sadness. But I don't think it necessarily lacks it either (as some ministers seem to preach). I just think the point isn't what we often think it is.
It's not about what we have done. It's not about what we will do. It's not about us at all. And until we realize that, we will never understand our circumstances - positive or negative. We will never live in the fulfillment that we could potentially know. And we will never be what we were intended to be : our best in Christ.
So with that thought, I want to agree with Paul. I press forward, forgetting what is my past. And I accept that "my best in Christ" may not look even as successful as "my best in my past", but it really is so much more.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Today I lived.
February 7, 2013
Yesterday I got the rare chance to walk outside in the middle of my work day. Often times, because we have no windows in the OR or even our break room, I never even know what the day looks like. But yesterday, my last case in the cath lab (an area we only occasionally service with anesthesia) got cancelled around 2 p.m. I knew there would not be any other cases in the cath lab and I also knew I would not be asked to relieve anyone until about 15 till 3 p.m. So I had about 45 minutes of uninterrupted, indulgent time!
So I walked outside. It was so nice that I just kept walking, through our parking lot, just past the parking garage, and over to this little area that had a grassy hill in front of one of the medical school buildings. There was a brick wall that I could sit behind so patient's wouldn't see me, and so I sat there just soaking in a little bit of the sunshine that I had missed out on that day.
It had been a hectic day. Nothing too stressful, but just some small annoying stuff. Being in this area where they aren't use to having anesthesia services, they don't really know how to involve us so it always seems it's a lot of "hurry up and wait" for us. But in reality, it was just another, typical day. One I was just trying to get through. One that wouldn't go down in the record books as a bad day or a good day. Just a day.
As I was sitting in the grass, I looked at my Facebook newsfeed on my phone and saw one of my old highschool friends from Oregon had posted this question, "What has made you happy so far today?"
Almost instantaneously a little smile tugged on the corner of my mouth and I thought, "probably this question!" To be honest, until that very second, I hadn't even taken the time to think about "THIS DAY". I hadn't really paid attention to the fact that this was a day, separate from all others, one that would never be repeated. For me, it had just been another snippet of my life that existed without emotion. A day, like thousands of others, that I would never remember again... and in some ways felt had no particular importance or meaning. But the question had made me think about the seconds that had compiled the hours that had compiled what was my life for the last eight hours. I had lived. Nothing grand or exciting. But I had breathed. I had worked. I had earned money. I had taken care of patients. I had done what I trained and dreamed of doing years ago. It was like this, "ah ha" moment. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that THIS IS REAL LIFE. This is where my years are going, and so much of the time, I'm inattentive to the very seconds of time I have been blessed with. These "mundane" days are what my patient's would give anything for. The ability to have gotten up and to have had energy to come into work... it's a good thing.
I think most days we can't see anything special about it at all. Life that is. It's just full of the seconds that become the hours that pass without any great achievement or memory made. It's full of moments that we will never even remember. But this day, while I was thinking about it, I realized that this is what makes life good. Cancer patients, for example, remember lots of stuff. They would love a mundane, just normal kind of day... one filled with boring tasks. The boring is where our years go. But that shouldn't make us sad. It should make us grateful that we get to have normal lives. :)
Yesterday I got the rare chance to walk outside in the middle of my work day. Often times, because we have no windows in the OR or even our break room, I never even know what the day looks like. But yesterday, my last case in the cath lab (an area we only occasionally service with anesthesia) got cancelled around 2 p.m. I knew there would not be any other cases in the cath lab and I also knew I would not be asked to relieve anyone until about 15 till 3 p.m. So I had about 45 minutes of uninterrupted, indulgent time!
So I walked outside. It was so nice that I just kept walking, through our parking lot, just past the parking garage, and over to this little area that had a grassy hill in front of one of the medical school buildings. There was a brick wall that I could sit behind so patient's wouldn't see me, and so I sat there just soaking in a little bit of the sunshine that I had missed out on that day.
It had been a hectic day. Nothing too stressful, but just some small annoying stuff. Being in this area where they aren't use to having anesthesia services, they don't really know how to involve us so it always seems it's a lot of "hurry up and wait" for us. But in reality, it was just another, typical day. One I was just trying to get through. One that wouldn't go down in the record books as a bad day or a good day. Just a day.
As I was sitting in the grass, I looked at my Facebook newsfeed on my phone and saw one of my old highschool friends from Oregon had posted this question, "What has made you happy so far today?"
Almost instantaneously a little smile tugged on the corner of my mouth and I thought, "probably this question!" To be honest, until that very second, I hadn't even taken the time to think about "THIS DAY". I hadn't really paid attention to the fact that this was a day, separate from all others, one that would never be repeated. For me, it had just been another snippet of my life that existed without emotion. A day, like thousands of others, that I would never remember again... and in some ways felt had no particular importance or meaning. But the question had made me think about the seconds that had compiled the hours that had compiled what was my life for the last eight hours. I had lived. Nothing grand or exciting. But I had breathed. I had worked. I had earned money. I had taken care of patients. I had done what I trained and dreamed of doing years ago. It was like this, "ah ha" moment. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that THIS IS REAL LIFE. This is where my years are going, and so much of the time, I'm inattentive to the very seconds of time I have been blessed with. These "mundane" days are what my patient's would give anything for. The ability to have gotten up and to have had energy to come into work... it's a good thing.
I think most days we can't see anything special about it at all. Life that is. It's just full of the seconds that become the hours that pass without any great achievement or memory made. It's full of moments that we will never even remember. But this day, while I was thinking about it, I realized that this is what makes life good. Cancer patients, for example, remember lots of stuff. They would love a mundane, just normal kind of day... one filled with boring tasks. The boring is where our years go. But that shouldn't make us sad. It should make us grateful that we get to have normal lives. :)
Friday, February 1, 2013
My ultimate goal
When I was in the 9th grade, my youth group did a
study called, “Experiencing God” by Henery Blackaby. My Dad, the senior pastor
of the church, actually lead us through this study, as it was one he had really
enjoyed. Through the years, I’ve often heard him mention that he had repeated
that same study and how powerful it was. Personally, I had not found it to be
all that amazing. I had not been really able to relate to a lot of the
concepts, not because they were over my head spiritually or intellectually, but
because I had not experienced life. Recently, while looking for a book that
would be a good morning devotional book, this study came to my mind, and I
decided to try it again. And this time around, I am loving it. It has so many
nuggets, just in the first couple of chapters, that I am sure I won’t be able
to withhold discussing it, but today it’s just the preface to the rest of my
story.
A few days ago, I was talking on the phone with my Dad about
where I was at emotionally. I was sharing how that I felt that I had sort of
been on an emotional roller coaster, with big highs and big lows. As a result
of the lows, I found myself often lashing out at people who I love most and are
closest to (in particularly my sweet Mom). Like a wounded dog who bites the
master trying to love it, I had allowed my truest hurts to only be visible to
the ones that I felt I could be most vulnerable with… and my truest colors have
often been a bit ugly. I’ve regretted this, and I was sharing with my Dad some
about my previous post… how that I have through reflection and prayer on this experience
of my life come to realize that this process has been good for me. As hard as
it has been, I see how that I am growing and changing… and I think it’s all for
the better. It’s almost like a detox-purge kind of diet. Except spiritually.
I’m detoxing my heart and soul of doubts and angers and entitlements and superiority
feelings. I’ve seen, like Peter who was sure HE could never deny the Lord but
did not only once but three times, that I in fact, had it within myself to
ACCUSE my God of not loving me. My God who died for me. I have seen that I had
it within me to see my life as the center of my universe. MY hopes and dreams
and ideas and plans were the center around which I revolved. Oh yes, I believed
(and thought I tried) to make it ALL revolve around God… and at points, I think
I succeeded… but I have realized how imperfect my attempts have been… how
selfishly ego centered I have been. So I am thankful for our infertility
challenges.
My Dad shared a great point with me that I had never thought
about. He said that if Paul, who was obviously one of the most influential
Christians with both his teachings and his writings had been trying to
establish a large church or a grand ministry, all of his shipwrecks, imprisonments,
beatings, etc. would have been seen as “setbacks”. Especially in our day in
time. When we read his writings in the Bible, we take for granted that it must
have been easy for him to follow… must have been easy for him to understand..
must have been easy for him to hear the direction of the Lord. But, if you look
at it from our viewpoint today, we must realize how trying those “setbacks”
could have been. How trying it must have been to have prayed three times for
the Lord to remove his “thorn in his flesh”– his burden. And yet, because
Paul’s goal was not to build a massive church or the most popular ministry, but
rather his only goal was TO KNOW HIM MORE, these were not setbacks at al. They,
in fact, were helping Him to accomplish that goal. (Phil. 3:4-14)
As much as I want to have children someday, I have come
through prayer to the belief that the only thing in my life that really matters
is to know Christ more. And to allow Him to use me to do His will in my world.
I believe that He will bless me with children someday, but if I am wrong about
that, I pray that I will continue to remember my ultimate goal, and find it
within myself to embrace the calling that He chooses to put on my life.
My sweet and awesome brother-in-law, Christopher, called me
the other day to tell me he had been doing a study through the book of James.
He said that I had been on his heart a lot during this study and he just
wanted to share with me a little bit about it. After his call, which meant so
much to me, I decided to also read a little out of James in some of my morning
devotions. As I have mentioned earlier,
I am really loving “the Message” version by Eugene Peterson, so I want to
finish with a few verses from it, as they sort of correlated with everything
else I have been thinking and reading.
“Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and
challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your
faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to
get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and
well-developed, not deficient in any way. If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He
loves to help. You’ll get his help and won’t be condescended to when you ask
for it. Ask boldly, believing, without a second thought. People who “worry
their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get
anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all of your options
open…..
Anyone who meets a testing challenge head-on and manages to
stick it out is mighty fortunate. For such persons loyally in love with God, the
reward is life and more life.”
May I always be able to apply these new concepts to my life.
Because there is always something some temptation to make us doubt.. to draw us
away. My struggle has been my infertility, but there are a billion other things
it could be. But the answer should always be the same. Our one goal should be to KNOW HIM MORE. When that is truly our goal, our perspective can change, and
we can embrace anything that comes our way.
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