Practically Laura

Somewhere Between: Humiliation to Hope

 I wish to keep this posting shorter but sweet, and this topic is sweet:  Hope.  Not just any hope, mind you, but hope in God.  God’s hope.  Thinking on the topic causes this almost physical reaction in me…a warming up…a settling in…a peace.

Sometimes hope seems in short supply.  Sometimes hope’s well is dusty bone dry.  I don’t think I exaggerate when I say that a few of my friends might be there even now.

Frankly, I think hope is hardest to hold when in the in-between time, which is how I define a waiting period fraught with varying degrees of difficulty.  One might lend itself to boredom, another time to despair.  They’re the times we bide until we get a spouse, a friend, a place, a church, a job, a purpose, a house, a grade, a child, an accomplishment.  A consequence.  It’s the time in which we wait for an illness to heal, a prodigal to call, or a tattered heart to mend.

The irony of the in-between time is that the older I get, the more I feel as if I'm there.  I won’t lie to you—they get longer and longer.  It’s impossible for me to count milestones by a semester, or a degree, or a promotion.  At my age and in my circumstances, life can be routine.  I would guess the in-between time is almost ongoing, probably over ninety-five percent of the life I experience.

One of my hardest in-between times was when we moved back to Texas from Canada. 

We loved Montreal.  We didn’t think it was perfect, but it was interesting and an adventure.  We had friends there.  We were trying to put down roots, so we bought a house.

It was a charming, small house in a gorgeous neighborhood.  It was not far out of the city center, so Craig’s commute to work was short (The shortest it’s been during our marriage.).  Then and before we moved in, we borrowed and spent loads of money remodeling it, thinking it to be a good investment.

Little more than a year after we moved in, Craig’s boss called him into his office and told Craig that they no longer needed him in Montreal. 

This didn’t seem so devastating.  We decided we would take the opportunity to move closer to family, and Craig soon had a job at the same firm in Houston.  His gracious parents allowed us to move in with them, and we placed our precious house on the market.

Honestly, I was confident that we wouldn’t be living with them long (more like an extended visit.). Our house would sell pronto, I reassured myself during quiet moments.  It was in a wonderful neighborhood and cute as a button, after all. 

Then it didn’t.

No one wanted our precious house into which we had poured our heart and soul (or should I say money and time), at least not at a price that would allow us to walk away without losing our shirts.

How humiliating and distressing do you think it would be to be living with your husband’s parents for ten months when you’re forty (Yes, I was forty!)?  It felt devastating at the time.  All my pride went down the toilet along with most of our money.

When people asked us where we were living, I would say we were ‘staying’ with my in-laws.

I guess I’m pretty good at spin if I have enough time to puzzle it out.

One day, I was sitting in church with my mother-in-law at Champion Forest Baptist, and a guest speaker gave the sermon.  I wish I could remember more of what he said, but I know it was on the subject of waiting on God.  He gave a moving testimony of some sort.  All I remember is crying copious, quiet tears; and my sweet mother-in-law comforting me.

It was a turning point.  I decided I didn’t want to live in discontent or fear of what petty people thought of us while in the in-between.  I didn’t want to live with a constant low-level of worry about money.

In other words, I decided to believe what I professed.  That God—only God—was my hope.  Our situation was humbling, but I was ready to submit to it because I believed I needed to be there to become more Christ-like.

I did need to be there.

So with hope in God, I let go and relearned how to count my blessings no matter the circumstances.  A good way to put it would be that God delivered me with hope; then He blessed us with a change in living situation.

Yet at times I'm fickle and I forget. So when I'm in the difficult in-between place, I have to once again ask myself some tough questions.  Do I truly believe that God is my strength, rescuer, refuge, and only hope like David (Psalms 18:1-6, 16-19)?  Do I believe that I should fix my eyes on Jesus, so God can guide me through the difficult times, or do I trust my own ability to solve my problems (Hebrews 12:1-3)? Have I embraced the process to become more Christ-like (1 John 3:2-3)? 

Have I decided to see past my circumstances, past mistakes, excuses, and distractions to let God out of the box in which I've placed Him once again?

I don’t have to wait for Him to prove Himself, after all—He already has by the blood of Jesus and the creation of, well, the world.

(It can be a) Happy Friday, everyone.

Practically

adverb prac·ti·cal·ly \ˈprak-ti-k(ə-)lē\

: almost or nearly

: in a way that is reasonable or logical : in a practical way*

 

I love words.

I love the way they convey my meaning, especially in writing.  I love their sounds, and I like the shape of each letter.  Form letters into words and language, string them together, and the result is almost miraculous.

When we communicate face-to-face or in writing, you may come close to understanding me, and I may come close to understanding you.  

That’s good.

Almost mystical, it's even better when our words reach out and embrace each other as we interact, igniting our empathy, so we have complete understanding.

Wow.

In particular, I love it when words have more than one meaning, like the one above.  Then I love taking that word and driving it to a different destination.

So as I struggled with ideas for a new name for this blog and feeling in my gut the lack of life in each mental offering, I decided to ask a few friends (some creative, some not, but all that I view as pragmatic) for thoughts.  The one brought forth by my friend Suzy seemed perfect from the beginning, because that’s just what she did.  She took the word practically and pointed it toward an unusual coordinate: Laura.

This spoke to me.

In my day-to-day doings, I often veer to the right at the practical fork in the road.  I’m a fairly down-to-earth person, after all.  Just ask my husband Craig how levelheaded he thinks I am. 

If I swerve to the left, the same word indicates a position, as in almost or nearly at/to a particular place.

Then Suzy stretches the usage a bit.

So when I heard the word paired with my name, it was only a moment or two before I thought about the sanctification process, which is the ongoing spiritual growth I experience because of Christ.  I’m not there yet, but I’m growing and changing and becoming more like Jesus.

And as I do, spilling words on a page as individual beats from my heart, I’m becoming more like me—the person God sees covered by His son’s sacrifice.

Laura and only Laura.

 

*"Practically." Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, n.d. Web. 3 Sept. 2015. <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/practically>.

Tumbleweed Thoughts No. 6: I Cried

To Timothy, my beloved son: Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.  I thank God, whom I serve with a clear conscience the way my forefathers did, as I constantly remember you in my prayers night and day, longing to see you, even as I recall your tears, so that I may be filled with joy.  For I am mindful of the sincere faith within you, which first dwelt in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and I am sure that it is in you as well. For this reason I remind you to kindle afresh the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline. 2 Timothy 1:2-7 (NASB)

 

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this more than in passing, but I work with the eleventh-grade girls at my church, along with my two incredi-partners Alicia and Tiffany.

When you volunteer to work with the teens, the ministry has a policy that you stay and volunteer with the group through all four years of high school.  I’m sure you can imagine how good the continuity is for this age group—in theory, it allows time for us to learn to trust each other, and so we share deeper relationships.

It’s like a four-year marriage…

…or maybe more like a four-year prison term.

Okay, I feel as if I should mention that I have a little failing called sarcasm.  It crops up every now and then, and well, it just did.  I’m sorry.  Let’s get back on track.

Navigating through this responsibility has been interesting over the last two and a half years, to say the least.  However, God has used it to change me for the better in innumerable ways.

I’m going to be honest now and trust you to give me some understanding.  I’m also trusting that you won't try to fix it (whatever ‘it’ is) or offer me unnecessary comfort.  Remember:  God is teaching me lessons.

Here we go:

The first year, I didn’t feel like anyone in the high school ministry liked me (I’m exaggerating a little.).*  To summarize:  I was offended, and I cried a lot.  Whether or not my feelings were based in reality, God’s biggest lesson for me was to give people the benefit of the doubt, and then to give them patience.  Paranoia and self-focus had to go.  Forbearance and forgiveness were key.  After all, I, myself, love those last two things (Colossians 3:1-17).

During the second year, which I called our ‘Girl Power Year,’ I felt like things were better. We studied Ruth and Esther; then the second half of the year we worked through Lies Young Women Believe by Nancy Leigh DeMoss and Dannah Gresh.  This is a good book, but it tackles some incredibly sensitive issues about life and relationships.  We had a lot of fun…maybe too much at times.  Every now and then, our discussions would become so outrageous that they would get to the inappropriate point.  We would laugh about it, but at times and as their teacher, it did concern me that they seemed more focused on discussing these ‘taboo’ subjects than what the Bible had to say about God-honoring conduct.  It made me worry that I wasn’t being ‘spiritual’ enough around them, and I felt like a few of them were determined to misunderstand me.  I embodied the verb cringe, and I continued to cry every now and then—but not as much as the first year.  God’s lesson for me had to do with not being so hard on myself, and trusting Him to transform them.  So He’s continued to work at cleaning out more insecurity in me, and he’s been working with me on understanding my value in His eyes.  He doesn’t want me to be blind to my missteps, but He also wants me to ask forgiveness and move on.  Here are some key verses I focused on: 1 Peter 2:4-5, 9; Colossians 3:12; 1 John 3:1; Romans 8:31-39; Ephesians 1:3-5.

We’re on our third year, the junior year, and on many occasions it’s felt like a train wreck (Cue the crashing noises.).  I can’t go into detail because things that are private should stay private.  But in discussing our year with more experienced youth leaders, it would seem that a teen’s junior year is often full of more than drama, mainly because it’s such a tough and anxious year for them as they plan for their Future with a capital F.

So…of course I’ve cried.  In fact, I started crying while discussing it with our high school volunteer coordinator, whom by all accounts is a godly, awesome guy.  However, I don’t know him well, and he’s about eight years younger than me.

And he’s, well, a he.  Did I mention I don’t know him well?

It was a tad embarrassing.

I go off on these tangents about the ministry to illustrate that I’ve shed many tears, and not only over this part of my life.

I later had the chance to discuss that phone call on another phone call (lots of phone calls over the past months) with our youth pastor JJ, and he said something that I liked.  I can’t remember it word for word, but he suggested that we should feel free to cry or some such.

What?!

Yep, he said it. Of course, he meant that it’s good for others to see genuine emotion from us that's not harmful.  At least, I think that’s what he meant.** 

This makes sense to me.  After all, there’s a season for everything (Ecclesiastes 3:4, but consider reading the whole chapter).  If God acknowledges that there’s a time to cry; then I should feel okay to cry whether in joy or pain.  Furthermore and in my mind, Paul was not upbraiding Timothy for crying in the top passage. The tone seems to convey the desire to reunite and comfort.  In fact, David wrote that God put David’s tears in a bottle when he was oppressed by his enemies in Psalms 56, implying to me, that God is a loving God that cares for us when we’re overcome by life’s hardships (Psalms 56:8).

In all honesty, I look like death warmed over, but I usually feel better after a good cry.  Furthermore and for me, it’s often more appropriate to acknowledge the deep heartbreak that rains down…

…or the profound well-being that overflows…

…than to walk around like an animated stick.

So if you see me crying, don’t worry.  Just pass me a tissue if you have one.  You don’t have to enter into my feelings.  You don’t have to understand me or I you, but if I have a tissue, I’ll hand you one, too.

Let me know if you need to get something off your chest in confidence—I’ll pray for you.  Otherwise, I’ll leave you be, and you can do the same for me.

And, by the way, I prefer the Puffs with lotion if you have them on hand.

Author’s Notes, etc:

If you have been crying on a prolonged, daily basis, please consider making an appointment to see your doctor.  They can take it from there.

*Let me make this clear—I feel that God has revealed to me that these feelings were all about me.  If you were around me at this time, you should not be tempted to think they had anything to do with you unless God reveals otherwise.  After all and if you were around me in that situation and a Christ-follower, God would’ve been teaching you your own lessons, right?  We’re good.

** I emailed him just to clarify, but I think he’s forgotten to respond (This is an odd comfort because it means I’m not the only one with memory problems.). ;)

Thank-You Notes: To Those Who Persevere

 11 But flee from these things, you man of God, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, perseverance and gentleness. (1Timothy 6, NASB)

Back in the mid-1990s I was A) bored B) disillusioned C) unsure about what to do about it.

Ever since graduating from Baylor, I had worked at one of the larger aerospace companies in the north Texas area, but my work life hadn’t turned out as I’d envisioned.  Although I made a good salary, was blessed with a ninety-five percent trustworthy coworker rating*, and had excellent benefits—I wasn’t satisfied.  After all, there didn’t seem to be enough work to fill the day or much opportunity for advancement.

So I started searching.  For anything.  I searched for anything that would be a ‘better’ alternative—jobs, school programs, starting a business, running away with the circus (I would take Craig along, of course.).

I’m not sure I prayed much about it, but I did consult Craig.  The result was that I decided to take the LSAT, most likely after watching one too many episodes of LA Law.  Who wouldn’t want to be Grace Van Owen, right?

 

Susan Dey and Harry Hamlin in LA Law

And scarily enough, I nailed that test…and a vista opened before me containing the best Texas law schools.

It was a heady feeling for a young woman who harbored a fair amount of hidden but deep-seated insecurity.  And you know the funny thing about insecurity, don’t you?  It’s such close friends with pride.  They’re as inseparable as two sides of a coin.  Seriously—can insecurity even be born without a fair amount of pride residing within a person?

So I quit my job, and I moved back to Waco because we had decided that Baylor Law was my best alternative.

And things went well at first.  I made study buddies, I kept up with the work, I survived some close calls with the Socratic method, and I tried to like law school.

Unfortunately, this is when the sticky part of the story starts.  This is when I write the stuff about which I’d rather not write.

I’d prefer not to tell you what a costly and bad decision I made**, because I just didn’t have it in me to stick with this thing.  I didn’t love it much less like it, I didn’t have a hunger for it, and it was costing too much money.  And it was costing too much personally for me to continue in it.  Yeah, I don’t think I mentioned that my husband was still living up in the Dallas area, finishing up his Masters degree.  We only saw each other on the weekends (So instead of the circus, I ran away to law school, and left my heart in Dallas.).

To top it all off, our savings was running out much faster than we had anticipated.

One Sunday evening, I looked at Craig as he was about to leave for Dallas, and I knew I couldn’t go back to class the next morning.

It seemed impossible.

So I quit.  I threw away an opportunity for which many people would gladly pay a small body part.

I look back on it now, and I know it was the right thing to quit.  I’m glad I did it—I didn’t and don’t want that lifestyle.  I’m glad I stopped the madness.

But at the time, I felt as if I’d failed.  I didn’t persevere, and I felt like a quitter.  And that feeling clung to me for a long, long time.

I’m glad I no longer see it that way because those ‘quitter’ feelings, understandable at first, were ridiculous in the long term.  I’m pretty sure that when the Bible teaches on perseverance that it’s not referring to being so stubborn that you cling to a bad decision.

In fact, I believe that the Bible is referring to something much more mind-stretching and beautiful.  It speaks of persevering in our continued growth as a believer (sanctification)—Hebrews 12:1-2; Romans 5:1-5; persevering in our assigned ministry—Luke 8:15; and persevering in our belief that God is going to take some of the crappiest (Excuse my French.) life experiences, turn them upside down, and use them for His glory and our good—Romans 8:28; James 1:12.

But perseverance is good in other ways as well.  When the parent with the child with a learning disability doesn’t give up but searches for ways to help them, that’s good.  When a father with no options but a thankless job doesn’t get in a car and drive, drive, drive far away because he cares more for his family than his ego, that’s good.  When loving grandparents raise their grandchildren because their own children are too immature to handle their responsibilities, that’s good.  When a person stays in a marriage with an unappreciative spouse and continues to demonstrate love to their partner, that’s good.

It’s always good when we make a commitment worth making, a right decision; then we stay with it even though it goes beyond difficult to heartbreaking to keep.

Only by the grace of God, I’ve done some of those things.  I’ve stuck with the important decisions when I haven’t had the care or energy to do so.  I’ve kept promises when not doing so would leave a trail of destruction.  And leaving law school didn’t leave a trail of destruction.  In fact, it enabled me to focus on getting a new job and moving back to Dallas to be with Craig.

I stopped questioning it a long time back.

But even better, I’ve seen some of you stick with those right decisions as well, giving the precious gift of a good example to the rest of us.

Even worse, I’ve seen some of you walk away, leaving a hurricane-ravaged landscape behind you; yet you never cared enough to look back.

Dear Persevering One:

Thank you for walking on.  I know you’re tired of going to the grocery store and rousting teenagers from their beds.  I am, too.  I know you’re scared of letting people down or not living up to your potential.  I am, too.  I know you want to give up, but you won’t.  By the grace of God, I won’t either.

Instead you’ll get some rest, take a deep breath, get yourself up, and try again.

Bravo.

Your most ardent admirer,

Laura

Author’s note:  I know I’ve oversimplified decision-making.  Only you can say whether or not my conclusions might work for you.  You may have many more variables to consider.  However, if you have made a decision which has left destruction in it’s wake, please consider taking it to God, asking him for forgiveness, and seeking direction from Him in the Bible and by prayer on how to make amends.  If you’re a Christ-follower, then God wants to give you second times infinity chances.  Even still, people won’t always allow you to mend your relationships with them.  Trust may be lost.  But if nothing else and in my opinion, you should make every effort to tell those you’ve hurt that you’re sorry and ask for forgiveness.

If you’re not a Christ-follower and seeking to know God better, you might want to start with Romans 5:8.

*This is Laura’s rating for the number of coworkers one could trust out of a pool of 100 random workers she might have encountered at the company.  In this case, she would estimate that approximately 95 out of 100 people at the company were trustworthy (Fantastic!).  This is a totally random number and based on nothing other than her feelings.

**I’m in no way saying that law school is a bad decision for you. ;)

Thank-You Notes: Steven, Part III

So while touring the Louvre, at the base of the Eiffel Tower, and around Versailles, I acted as if everything was still status quo.

And through the Chunnel, and scrambling around London to pick up our rental car, I never uttered a peep.

I acted a part.

I acted as if my life wasn’t changing in a huge way.

Maybe other people are prepared, but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t prepared for my first small taste of what it would feel like to have another’s life in my hands.

My second phone call (vaster-distance this time) was a bit better in that I received some true care or at the least, some comforting advice.  And I didn’t mind their matter-of-fact tone at all.

“This happens quite often in early pregnancy.  But you need to stay in bed a few days, and take it easy.  You need to keep your feet up, and don’t lift anything heavy.”

Like a dash of cold water had been thrown in my face, my thinking was clarified.  This was scary but in a good way.  Scary because there was the possibility I might lose this baby, but good because I knew that I did want to be a mom no matter how overwhelming the responsibility seemed.

So I parked myself in bed with a book and wrote in my journal for Craig.

Honey, I miss you more than I can say.  I cannot wait to see you, tell you all about the trip and (insert mildly private comment here.).  You are such a good husband, and I know you will make a great father.  In fact, it makes the thought of parenting so much more comforting to know you will be there with me. 

But what would I tell my cousin about my sudden need for rest?

I was rather shy about it, so I let my mother tell him; I’m not sure what she said exactly, but I was not asked any questions that might embarrass me (Thank you, Mom!).

Not that my cousin would be insensitive, anyway.

Honestly, I can’t remember if the three of us talked about the baby or not, but whatever the case, I was able to take it easy for the next few days.

Steve, however, didn’t have to tell me that he cared about our situation.  He’s such a gentleman that he just did things without any prompting.  Of course, Steven has always had a servant’s heart.

He still does.

Anyway, after he and mom came back from that first day without me, he had purchased me a couple of Staffordshire dogs.  Something I have always wanted (Isn’t taste unaccountable?) but something I might not have been able to afford on this trip.  Yep, he knew it and he bought them for me.

And he carried my suitcases whenever we moved to a new location, and he made the trip as stress-free as possible because he took on 99.9% of the driving.  He’s the kind of guy who just sees a need, and if he’s able, he steps in.

That’s the kind of guy he is.

Dear Steve,

Thank you for treating me as you normally would…because I needed that.  After all, my personality was not submerged because I was soon to become a parent.

Thank you for buying me those ugly dogs…I still love them.  In fact, they sit on my mantel even as I type this.

Thank you for carrying around my heavy luggage without complaint, and driving us around the upside-down and backward roads of Great Britain without incident.

Thank you for giving me a real hug every time you see me.  When people hug me like that, it causes something in me to forget the scary stuff for just a moment.

Thank you for being silly with me…and mom, too (She loves being goofy.).

Thank you for being my friend.

Your crazy cousin,

Laura

Epilogue:

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump…

“You told me it would be fast.”

“That’s how a normal baby heartbeat sounds.”

“Cool.  I love it.”

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Thank-You Notes: Steven

Thank-You Notes: Steven, Part II

Thank-You Notes: Steven, Part II

Over the next several days I began to experience some new sensations—my sense of smell grew beyond all proportion (Pre-pregnancy, I didn’t know we lived in a world with such varied kinds of, um, aromas.).  About a week and a half later, my stomach decided it didn’t like London fish and chips at all.  But otherwise, I tried to carry on as normal.  In fact, I didn’t tell my cousin that I was pregnant even though I did tell my mom and dad—Craig and I felt it would be better for mom to know in case I had any difficulties while travelling.

So we arrived and began our explorations, but mom and I didn’t talk about the pregnancy because I had a huge desire to keep it quiet, and I needed to act like everything was usual.  Truth be told, I’m sure I would’ve felt a little awkward bringing it up with my guy cousin despite the fact I’ve always considered him a close friend.

Not long after we hit the ground in Paris, we were walking over to the Louvre—it was only a few blocks from the Hôtel de la Tamise, the place we were staying, so it made a good place to hang out our first day.

I can’t remember much about that day (We were so jet-lagged.), but I do remember walking up to the Louvre, and feeling taken aback by the stunning juxtaposition of the I. M. Pei pyramid against the older architecture of the rest of the museum.

Isn’t everyone?

Funnily enough, I also remember being relieved to sit down and drink a slightly strange-tasting Diet Coke in a basement café later that afternoon.

After all, snack breaks are always a good thing.

In a journal I was keeping for Craig I wrote:

The plane ride was grueling, the taxi driver possibly “took us for a ride,” and we have not showered in over twenty-four hours (I think); but Paris is still one of the loveliest cities I have ever seen.  On the to-do list today:  1) Check into our hotel.  2) Visit the Louvre.  3) See the Eiffel Tower.  4) Buy post cards.

The Louvre was wonderful.  It had that peaceful, museum feeling at times and then pandemonium the next.  Although I didn’t think the crowds as bad as we had been warned.  We viewed the Mona Lisa, Venus d’Milo and several other great works of art…. 

People are friendlier than expected, more flowers are in bloom, the trees have not yet turned to their autumn colors, and the architecture on many of the old buildings is cool.

None of these observations were earth-shattering, but I’m glad I kept a short, albeit unimaginative, journal to take back to Craig.

After a rather non-touristy day at a marché aux puces helping Steve shop for antiques for his business (“Combien ça cout?” I repeatedly inquired while trying to figure the price with the exchange rate via calculator.), and eating gourmet, artichoke pizza out of a temporary store front at the market; we visited Notre Dame, St. Chappelle and Versailles on our last day in France.

Here’s a smattering of what I wrote:

We were rather disappointed in Notre Dame…

St. Chappelle was lovely.  The exterior stonework is wearing down giving it a fanciful look…it’s all painted woodwork inside—blue, red and gold.

Versailles was the highlight for me.  The size was incredible…we learned a bit about the different personalities of the kings and their times by viewing the rooms they decorated…

The grounds were wonderful…fountains and statues were everywhere.  My favorite part was the Queen’s Village.

Okay, we did find some fall leaves.

Through the Chunnel to England, and through it all, I tried to act as if nothing was unusual.

I think I was pretty good at it.  

But my flimsy facade was soon to crumble.

 

 

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Thank-You Notes: Steven

Thank-You Notes: Steven

A little over seventeen years ago in mid-October…

“I-I think I might be pregnant.  I took a pregnancy test and it was positive, but I’m leaving on a trip later today.  Do I need to come in before I leave?”  My voice shakes as I slump on the edge of our bed with the receiver pressed to my ear.  I'm worried they'll tell me that I shouldn't travel.

“No, honey.  You don’t need to come in until you’re (insert what seems a light year away) along.  Though we can make you an appointment today,” the nurse replies in a manner so matter-of-fact it causes me to have an odd sensation…maybe of confusion mingled with a little embarrassment.  I was supposed to call, right?  Don’t they care about me?  Shouldn’t someone congratulate us?

“Oh.  I didn’t know.”  I pause to gather my thoughts before I continue, “Is there anything I need to know or do?  Can I call you if anything comes up while I’m away?”

“Of course.  Let me transfer you to the front desk, so you can make your appointment, and we’ll call in a prescription for prenatal vitamins.”

And with that, my anticlimactic phone call was over, leaving me with the feeling I’d done something wrong by calling the doctor’s office and not feeling reassured at all about travelling so far after learning this life-changing news.

Later that afternoon as Craig was taking pictures of my mom, my cousin Steve and me at the gate before we boarded the plane to Paris; I felt a weird mix of excitement over our trip mingled with uncertainty about this new thing supposedly going on inside me.

To be frank, it was a little unnerving because I wasn’t expecting positive results so soon despite the fact we’d been trying to start a family for some time.  I hadn’t been ready to consult a doctor before that point (I wasn’t sure if I wanted to consult a doctor.).  When I finally got around to mentioning it to my OB, he quickly ran a blood test to check my hypothyroidism and discovered my medication levels were off.

Yep.  It was as simple as adjusting a medication level in our case, but in the meantime, I had started to get accustomed to the idea of never having children.  I had been through all the grief of hearing of others’ pregnancies and grown tired of feeling the pain and hiding the tears. I was ready to begin to let that particular dream go.  So I started mentally listing the positives of never having children and realized life wouldn’t be so grim without offspring and with a husband who was committed to our marriage.  In fact, there were many upsides to opting out of the incredible, but mixed blessing of parenthood.

Maybe subconsciously I didn’t want to grow up…because that’s what parenthood does after all.  There’s no escaping it.

Why then did I mention it to the doctor?  Well, I must’ve been undecided about never having children after all.  He adjusted my medication and POOF! I’m pregnant, just when I thought I should give up and count my blessings (Okay, yes, there’s a little more to it than POOF!).

Just when I had decided that life would be good with or without children.

I believe God loves to surprise a submissive heart.

So I boarded the plane for Paris with a tiny stowaway.

to be continued

Lies Like These

I have a confession to make—I don’t care much about my birthday.  It’s too close to Christmas and New Year’s Day.  Oh, it’s okay as long as there’s not much fuss involved.  Don’t get me wrong, I love it when my Facebook friends send me greetings; I get to laze around in my jammies that extra hour or so; and my family buys a cake and takes me to dinner.

And I can usually get Craig to go to the grocery store for me (Heaven!).

But that’s it.  That’s a perfect birthday.

Okay, maybe there’s a little bit more to my birthday indifference than its proximity to other major holidays.  Maybe it’s all that almost-subconscious introspection which inevitably happens around January 1^st.

I know, I know!  Introspection isn’t necessarily a dirty word, but mine is the devil incarnate. He sounds something like this:

1.  You’re forty-nine, have a good mind, and many advantages but haven’t made anything of your life.

2.  You spend too much time with your head in a frivolous book instead of interacting with the people around you.

3.  You’re ageing, you need to lose five pounds, and you’re ugly.

4.  Your writing is a joke, but no one will be honest and tell you to stop.

5.  You’re a lackadaisical parent, wife, sister, adult child, friend, etc., and about your spiritual life.  In fact, you aren’t a good role model.

6.  What’s the hold up on training your pet to be perfect?

7.  Keep your mouth shut—you’re not helping anyone, you sound like an insensitive boor, and an idiot to top it off.

8.  When will you ever finish that book?

9.  You’re not capable of homeschooling an academically gifted child.

10.  Why aren’t you making sure your sixteen-year-old student driver drives more?

11.  Those girls you work with at church…they don’t like you.  In fact, no one likes you—they feel sorry for you and tolerate you.

12.  You’re a quitter.

That last one…that’s a biggie for me. In fact, they all are.

Okay, I needed a good cry on my birthday, didn’t I?  It hurts to admit I have thoughts like these because it’s so real, so out there, so fragile, so embarrassing.

So raw.

So guilty.

But God didn’t make me to be closed-up.  He didn’t make me to hide myself away.  He didn’t create me to have closed eyes to myself, or the lies I sometimes tell myself.

Lies like knives that pierce my soul with uncanny precision.

Lies like these.

It’s quite a list, isn’t it?

Yet I resist them, and I’ll continue to resist the lies to my last breath.  Because I would ten times rather speak the truth about myself than wallow in the dirt, guilt and shame of that ludicrous list.  It’s ridiculous!

God created me after all.

And I was introduced to the world forty-nine, overflowing life-filled years ago.

So with some divine help, I’ll turn that List o’ Lies on its head.  Here we go:

1.  I’m forty-nine, have a good mind, and many advantages.  Watch out world!!

2.  I’m a person who needs down time.  I’ll probably live a lot longer because I give myself margin.

3.  I’m gorgeous (Okay, I got this from one of my Facebook friends, Stacey Mc.  She says we’re all gorgeous, and she’s right.  So I plan on owning it.).

4.  Being able to creatively express myself is a gift from God.

5.  I’m a loving, fairly consistent and conscientious parent, wife, sister, friend, etc.  And I’m working on the adult child and spiritual growth.  It’s called sanctification, people.

6.  I give my pet a caring home—I think she’s perfect in her imperfections.

7.  I should speak truth with respect and sensitivity to my friends and family.

8.  I’ll get back to the book soon.  I need to give myself a break because I’m in a busy season of life.

9.  I’m blessed to have the challenge of homeschooling my bright child, and it’s okay if he teaches me a few things along the way.

10.  I had Super Girl drive home from Barnes and Noble two days ago.  There were some tense moments, but what a great metaphor for parenting in general. ;)

11.  I deserve love, and I’ve been blessed with many people who love me.  I’ve learned my ministry isn’t about myself, and I feel things are going boatloads better this year.  After all, we've loosened up with each other enough to make all kinds of teen girl-centric, inappropriate jokes.

12.  I may take breaks, but I finish the tasks that are important.  The others were either icing or so unnecessary it’s acceptable to forget them.

How’s that?  I’m not crying anymore.

Even better, I’m all ready to go, get dressed (still in my jammies) and face the world on this birthday that I now predict to be a fantastic day.

Craig walked in not long ago with the strawberry cake, btw. 

Happy Saturday, January 4^th, everyone, and if you have a List o' Lies, please (I beg you.) turn it on its head, too.

P.S.  I bet you were wondering how to tactfully text me psychologist recommendations.  Someday, I might need them but not today.  Writing is great therapy, right?  I need to do it more. ;)

No, my cake's not oval, but I need to stop fussing over this post.

Super Girl in Belize

Super Girl was given the opportunity to travel to Belize with her church youth group in July.  After she returned, I wanted to draw her out (She's normally not a big communicator.), so I decided to 'interview' her.  I hoped that approaching her with this type of format and plenty of forwarning would help her to communicate some of her experiences.  Additionally, I wanted a way to thank our friends and family for giving her prayer and financial support.  This way you can share in a little of her story as well.

I would also like to thank the adult leaders who guided, cared for and loved our kids enough to spend quality time with them in Belize.  You know who you are, and you're awesome!!

Honestly, the audio file I recorded of us talking together is absolutely precious to me.  I wish I could post it, but I've never worked on a podcast before.  This will have to do, and I've tried to let her voice shine through in the transciption.

The mood music is 'Awake and Alive' by Skillet.

Here is a link to Blue Thumb Mission's blog:  http://www.bluethumbmissionsbelize.com

My one comment is shaded in green, and I've abbreviated the teenagers' names for confidentiality.

Here it is:

How did you feel the morning you left for the trip?  Did it make you feel nervous when we had difficulty finding the terminal?  I was kinda a little nervous and, yeah, just really nervous about going to a new country.  And then a little frustrated because we passed the terminal; then I was excited by the time I got on the plane. 

Was the airport in Belize City a typical western-style airport or was there anything different about it? What did the city look like as you were flying in?  It was a typical airport but it was a whole lot smaller, and it generally looked different.  And when we got off the plane, we didn’t go through a tunnel thing but walked down on a ladder.  It was really cool.  It (Belize City) looked a whole lot different than Houston or any other city in the U.S.  And you could just see the trees and the rivers and the swamps and stuff coming in, and it was really cool.  In the bigger, populated areas, I could see the houses. 

What type of money do they use in Belize?  Can I see it? I have some I can show you.  They have paper money and coin money.  The one dollar is a goldish coin.  They have a $2 bill.  I think they also have a $5 bill, and a $10, and a $20.  It’s different colors.  The $2 dollar is blue.  Either the ten or the twenty is red. 

What were your impressions of the city and the countryside as you were riding to Blue Thumb?  It’s very wild.  I don’t think I’ve seen that many undisturbed trees in one place at one time.  The cities—you can really tell the difference right away—a lot of the houses you saw were not in the greatest condition. I saw a lot of houses that didn’t have full roofs or even full walls. You would see walls and then columns holding up a roof on top.  And it wasn’t really a roof like we have roofs but a thatched roof.  A lot of them, I’m guessing, didn’t have electricity or power cause it certainly didn’t look like it.

Tell me about the wild life?  What is the area around Blue Thumb like?  Blue thumb is in a village in the jungle.  They have cleared most of the land for buildings and stuff for the camp, but there was still a fair amount of jungle around the edges.  I saw a lot of palm, mango and coconut trees.  The fruit was too high off the ground for us to pick.  I think some of the guys climbed to get some.  And there were also orange trees, and I think there were banana trees.

As far as the wild life, someone saw a tarantula one night, but I didn’t see it…only a picture of it.  Joe and Piper’s son had a parrot named Chloe.  She was super cute.  Our last night there, someone found three baby squirrels.  I got to hold one of them for a little bit.  It was a little, black squirrel, and it was adorable. I think it was getting traumatized by being passed around so much.  The fireflies are everywhere at night.  There are monkeys, but I didn’t see any of them.

How did you help with the construction projects?  I really didn’t do much the first two days.  On the third day, I started drawing out plans for the bunk bed with AW.  I drew it, and she wrote out the instructions.  It turned out the first one we wrote wouldn’t work, and so I had to redo them because she was project manager and had to do other things.  So I had to write and draw the second set of instructions.  I based them on the different stages of construction and drew them out.  They gave me dimensions of course.

Did anyone play practical jokes?  Describe please.  Apparently, the guys were always playing jokes on each other, and I heard about a couple of them.  For instance, somebody put insect repellent on the fan in one of the boys’ dorms and turned it on; then there were dead bugs everywhere on the floor.  I heard most of the bugs were by the leaders’ beds.  I think someone put Gold Bond Lotion in the fan.  They pointed it at S’s bed, and it got all over his sleeping bag.  I think it was S, but I’m not sure.  On the subject of fans, in the girl’s room, AW and I were in the room by ourselves and we heard a klunk, klunk, klunk in the fan.  I thought she had somehow gotten caught in the fan.  But then I looked and there’s a gecko tail squirming on the floor. Then there’s just a gecko body in the fan (Poor little gecko!).   And on the subject of gecko’s, I was taking a shower, and all of the sudden, there was a gecko in there with me.  I spent half the shower just staring at it not knowing what to do.  I eventually was able to rinse my hair, and I caught it in a plastic bag, and An let it out for me. 

Were you relieved to find out your cabin was air-conditioned?  Yes, but I woke up twice the first night because I was too cold.

What were the children like at the soccer camp?  How did the group interact with them?  Did you have one or two in particular that you played with the most?  They kicked our butts at soccer.  I didn’t get to know any of them too closely, but on the second day I talked to some of the girls, and we played soccer.  The second half of that day, me and AF took a group of girls over to the swings, and we pushed the younger ones.  They were super cute.  There was a two and a three-year-old named T and I.  The national language is English, but a lot of kids also speak just Spanish.  A lot of them speak Creole, too, which is a dialect, but with the accent it’s hard to understand what they’re saying.  So you had to ask them questions, and they could understand you, but you really couldn’t understand them.  So it worked out somehow.

How are our lives different from the majority of Belizeans?  The majority of the country seemed a whole lot poorer than the U.S.  They don’t have many of the things we don’t give a second thought to like running water or electricity.  If you look at a house, it’s just a house.  I’m not sure if they were even properly insulated or not 'cause you can’t tell by just looking at it.  But in the bigger cities, they look on par to our houses.  Although in Belize, their houses are very colorful.  They like their bold colors.  And I think there are strict laws about cars, and gas is really expensive too.  I think it’s rare for a family to own a car.

Tell me about the Mayan ruins?  Did you make it to the top?  It was really cool but really high.  So yeah, I did.  You take a little crank ferry to get across to them.  The Mayan ruins were really cool.  I was a little awestruck by it.  There’s just something about it…there’s just a really cool feeling about it.  And there were lots of different ones.  From the biggest one, if you went to the top, you could see a view of the city behind it, and that city was on a hill.  So it made you think about those hill cities in Mexico.

What was the funniest thing that happened on the trip to you?  To someone else?  At meals, it seemed to be that it was usually me, AF, and An sitting with D, J, M and C sometimes.  D is just very easy to get along with.  He makes a lot of jokes.  J’s just nice in general, and I already knew C. 

Okay, so the guys started making up weird words.  One of them was boingo which is basically something you say when someone says or does something stupid.  Somebody (I’m guessing it was JJ) got the stewardess on the plane home to make an announcement.  She said, “Welcome home to Cypress Bible Church and Boingo.”  We all burst out laughing.  It was hilarious.  And one of the ladies sitting by us was telling us that we needed to tell her what it meant.  I don’t think she ever found out because it’s an inside joke.

The second to last large group, they were talking about how the day went, and Mr. Trent said bongo instead of boingo, and St was laughing so hard he fell off his chair.

I have to admit that I fell asleep twice during small group.

Do you feel as if you made lasting friendships with the other people in the group? Yes, I think I did.  I think I got a lot closer to the other freshman girls, and also the other girls on the trip like An and AF—we’re all Facebook friends now.  And they were all really nice.  I sat next to them (An and AF) on the plane on the way there and on the way back.  And we just got close because we ended up playing with the kids together or sitting eating a meal together.  An and AF are super nice and outgoing—An is especially outgoing.  It was easy to get along with them.  They’ve got an easygoing sense of humor which is good because I always enjoy a good laugh. 

Which of the other students did you admire the most and why?  How about the adults?  S and R ministered to a kid named J who was the son of the lady who cooked with Piper in the kitchen.  And they led him to Christ which I admire because I’m not sure if I could do that.  They really stepped up to the task.  We were there to disciple kids not necessarily evangelize.  But they did something that was out of the criteria, and I think that’s great.  As far as the adults, definitely Ms. Avalyn and Ms. Connie.  Ms. Avalyn was like a second mom.  She was the one in charge of first aide, so she was always taking care of everyone and always nice.  She made our beds the first day.  Ms. Connie was making sure we were drinking water, and she often filled our water bottles before the soccer camp.

What do you think God taught you while on this trip?  I guess just the whole experience in general.  At some point, on the way back from fireworks on Thursday, I kinda of had this surreal moment.  I actually realized I’m here in Belize doing God’s work to help Joe and Piper.  And I’m thinking this is freakin' awesome! I’m listening to Skillet in Belize doing God’s work and it’s freakin’ awesome (Skillet is a screamo, Christian band.).  I think I’ll remember that moment for awhile.

I bet the snorkeling was super cool.  Describe what you saw.  We had fins on and a snorkel.  Everyone had life vests, but not everyone used them--I didn’t use mine.  The first place we stopped, there were a lot of stingrays, and I also got to see one feeding.  There was a huge one almost as wide as my bed.  An said she saw a big nurse shark.  I only saw a little one, but I got to touch it because the guide caught it by its dorsal fin and tail, and he let us pet it.  I think it was thoroughly freaked out. I saw two sea turtles right next to each other, and they were just feeding on the grass.  But it was right at the end, so we had to leave, but I could’ve watched them for twenty more minutes.  And when we were going around the reef, I saw something that looked like a rainbow fish, but I never found out the name because the guide never saw it.  A lot of the fish were shades of gray or silver.  The coral was shades of brown.  We saw sea anemones, brain coral, fin coral, and other kinds I’ve forgotten. 

What color were the beaches, the water and the countryside?  The water was beautiful—it was so clear.  It was a really pretty shade of green blue.  And it was super clear by the beach on Ambergris Caye especially. The sand was a pretty pale, white yellow. 

Why do you think you felt as if you wanted to go to Belize?  They asked us this on the last night of the trip.  I didn’t really have a motivation per se to go.  I didn’t think I wanted to go on the trip at first.  But, I don’t know, the more I thought about it the more I thought it was a possibility.  Eventually I decided I did want to go.

How did it feel to be home?  It was great.  I was tired of all these people.  Yes, they were great people, but I was tired of people.  Too many people.   

 

Free Indeed

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.  Galatians 5:22-23 NASB

I think I’ve written before about my overabundance of sensitivity (‘Why, God, why did you make me this way?!’ my inner drama queen laments.).

Yep.  I can forget I’m not fragile.  I can forget my high worth.

Actually, I believe that in Christ I’m far from fragile—the Bible doesn’t mention anything about insecurity being a fruit of the Spirit as far as I can recall.  So God has been diligently working with me on this thing over the past two years or so.  And, to be honest, I don’t want to waste time as an emotional basket case when someone is inconsistently friendly, or inadvertently slips that they think my opinions, unknown to them, are moronic.

Or maybe they disagree with me outright…or don’t give me the benefit of the doubt…or pay me no attention…or never return my texts/phone calls/emails.

Or blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

On the other hand, I often thank God for my sensitivity because even though it can seem overwhelming…almost handicapping at times…or tempt me to respond in a not-so-nice manner for which I’ll later have to apologize (Yikes!), there are positive aspects to it as well.

He’s gifted me with empathy.  Man, if you have a problem, I’m feeling it right along with you whether or not I’ve personally experienced such a thing or not.  Moreover, I will sometimes have moments of amazing clarity when it comes to understanding those around me.  I can be quite perceptive.  I may even be learning from your mistakes…or triumphs.

Feel free to learn from mine.

But it still hurts when you offend me.  It still sometimes takes me way too long to stop the questioning, anger, self-incrimination, finger-pointing, etc.  It still takes me awhile to remember God is teaching me lessons.

I still waste too much time as the self-elected mayor of a place called Forgetting I’m not in Control-ville. 

On another note, I’m so glad that only a few people read the stuff I post on my blog (especially today). And I don’t say this with any sense of self-pity.  I have a few loyal readers, and I’m very grateful.  However, I came to the realization long ago that I write because it helps me to process the world and it’s enough.  If, in a moment, someone else sees they’re not alone in their thoughts and feelings that’s just almost too much icing on an already award-winning cake—it’s all good but not necessary.

It’s too late to stop the writing anyway.

Because this writing stuff is between me and God.

It builds our relationship, and it helps me to tell the people around me how I think and feel about them…how I love them…which is one of the best gifts I can give them.

And (Oops, I almost forgot!) over the past several months, I’ve decided one of the best gifts I can give those around me is the Grace to allow them to be where they’re at.  If that’s what I view as some thoughtless purgatory or whatever, then I need to trust God enough to work mysteriously and wondrously in their lives.

Which means lots of freedom for me because I can let it go…and maybe, just maybe…I can love them where they’re at.

Because I love to be loved where I’m at and so many people have done this for me over the years.

So, yeah, I guess I’m sorry for my earlier whine fest.

For now.

But the next time someone hurts me perhaps I’ll remember a little earlier the freedom I’ve gained in Jesus and the grace he’s gifted me through my brothers and sisters.

Because I’m not the ‘Son,’ but I’m a child of God; I don’t have to leave the metaphorical house or get tied up in knots even when we don’t get each other.  After all, He’s standing in the middle working it out.

And some day it won’t matter…because ‘now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.’

Thank you, Jesus.

^‘35The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son does remain forever. ³⁶So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.’  John 8: 35-36

Author’s note:  Oh, yes, I’m sure I’ve offended you as well.  Please let me know (in an extremely gentle and private manner) if I need to apologize.