LiveDifferent Challenge (23): Unclog Your Disposal
So for the past week our garbage disposal hasn’t worked (don’t panic Landlords, it’s fixed now!). In fact, it only worked once when we moved in and then quit working. Because I am deathly afraid of sticking my hand down garbage disposals, I refused to do too much rooting around down there myself, and just threw scraps of food into the trash. But the tricky thing was that then it quit draining. So when I did dishes, the sink would fill up with this greasy, grimy water, which took hours to drain. Then it left that oily scum all around the sink, so I was consantly scrubbing the sink too. Needless to say, this was getting old. So finally, today, Jeff, being the fearless warrior husband that he is, rolled up his sleeves (ok he was actually in short-sleeves because it’s super hot but it’s just an expression), and plunged his arm down into the disposal. He soon discovered that the disposal had just kicked itself off (as a safety feature) because there was something caught down there. Of all things–a rock. I have no idea how on earth a rock got into the disposal because I guarantee I have not been washing out any rock-filled dishes, but somehow a rock was in there and it was smashed to smithereens and then caused the thing to turn off. Within minutes, Jeff had retrieved the rock remnants, reset the disposal, and Wahlah!–it was fixed. Now I can wash dishes to my heart’s content with no nasty full sink of water. Now the water rushes right down the drain, and everything is clean and shiny and good as new. Yay!
So maybe it’s cheesy, but it made me think of Psalm 32, David’s testimony of the sorrow that comes from unconfessed sin. He writes,
“When I kept silent, my bones grew old, through my groaning all the day long. For day and night Your hand was heavy upon me; My vitality was turned into the drought of summer.”
Sometimes we don’t even know the cause, but we know there’s something down there–something lurking down there in the disposal of our heart, and it’s too dark and scary to reach down our arm and get it out. We fear what it might be, or that it might be too painful if the blasted thing turns on and turns our hand to hamburger (ok, the metaphor breaks down there). But really, unless we are attentive, always attentive to keeping a short account with God and with others, we can get some pretty nasty buildup in our hearts, and before we know it, nothing is flowing. All is backed up, our joy is sapped, and there’s nasty greasy water all over our life.
I felt a little like that this week. I didn’t even know if it was sin, but there was something weighing on me, and it was “heavy upon me”. In situations like that, it almost doesn’t do any good to argue with yourself “is it sin or not?” There’s no use sitting around talking about the disposal, like “Do you think it’s a rock? No, I think it’s a potato peel. No, I think it’s a piece of glass. No…” blah blah blah. It doesn’t matter! The right thing is just to stick your darn hand down there and get it out whatever it is! Well that’s what I finally did and it turned out to be nothing more than a harmless little rock, but I tell you what–I can feel the difference. Things are flowing, my joy is back, the water’s running right down the drain and my sink is sparkly clean.
So the challenge this week is just to roll up your sleeve, plunge in your hand, and dig out the rock, whatever it may be. Maybe there’s nothing, praise God, but chances are there will be something soon enough. Maybe a frustration with your spouse, an unresolved issue with a friend, something you said that you realize was gossip that you need to confess. Maybe it’s just an attitude, a way in which you were just a teeny tiny bit dishonest. Whatever it is, it’s so not worth letting it clog up the drain! Reach in, confess it, make it right. Everything will flow so much better. Believe me.
God's Word, Our Dictionary
Words are funny things. In a sense, we depend upon them for all of our communication. When I write an email to someone or write a post on this blog, I am exercising great faith that you will understand the meaning of the words on the screen. If, for example, you were just learning English and you understood that every time I wrote “Love you” at the end of an email I really meant “You’re a fatty”, then there would be some frustration. I remember a dear missionary friend who always said, in the foreign tongue, “I gotta just keep my eyes on Jesus!” and then one day realized with horror that she had been saying, “I gotta just keep my eggs on Jesus!” Words mean things. But the sad part is that often our words become defined by the World instead of by God’s Word. Love for example. The world would say that two people engaging in a one-night-stand after drinking too much in a bar are “making love”. God’s definition is a little different.
But this is the one that got me recently. As you know I’m studying for this retreat, and one of the main topics is understanding disappointment. We frequently think, “I got disappointed because I got my hopes up.” So our strategy is to not “get our hopes up” so that we won’t get disappointed. Therefore in the world’s dictionary, we might read: “Hope = Disappointment.” These are the words we use. However, let’s look at God’s Word as our dictionary (I think you see where I’m going). What is the ONE thing we KNOW about hope from Scripture? Romans 5:5, “Now hope does not disappoint”. This is God’s definition of hope. God’s definition isn’t tied to expectations, circumstances, or result. True hope, as defined by God’s Word, does not disappoint.
So this is a fabulous way to determine if I’m hoping God’s way. This morning something happened that caused a mild disappointment. It wasn’t a big deal, but it caused me to realize that I was hoping as the world hopes–in an outcome–rather than as God’s Word tells me to hope–in His beautiful sovereignty and goodness.
Let’s use God’s Word as our dictionary, and define our words, and lives, by His way.
Our Right Response to Blessing
How do we respond to the blessings of God? Obviously with thankfulness. But what about the really big ones? The ones that are fulfillments of long-time promises, dreams come true, or answers to years of longing or prayer? More specifically, how do we enjoy the blessing of God without worshipping them? How do we keep our eyes fixed on the creator and not on His gifts?
It seems to me that while God is always the initiator of things, there is a portion that is our part to play in this and a portion that is God’s. For example, it seems to me that God divinely orchestrates the fiery seasons, the trials, the dark hour, the severe mercy, so that we will not become overly attached to the good things, the blessings, and things of this world. When are broken, we can become conduits for God’s blessings, letting them flow through us rather than hoarding them all up and calling them “my precious” like Schmeigel in Lord of the Rings. God breaks us so that we are safe. Unbroken people are unsafe recipients of His blessings. That is God’s part.
Our part then is to constantly be on guard for the subtle sin of letting things become internal. As soon as something becomes absolutely necessary for our life and well-being, it is threatening to be an idol.
I think Hannah from the OT is an excellent example to us in this regard. Here is a woman who truly longed for something–a child. This is the kind of longing I’m talking about-the aching yearning deep inside that is torturous. And, it might even be God-given, so it’s not like we can just forsake it, like a sin, and move on. So she longs and aches for this thing, and then, as God so often does, He brings fulfillment to this desire. Her son is born. Samuel the prophet. Not just any son, a son of promise, set apart for God. And what does she do? She kept the child with her until he was weaned (which could be anywhere from 2 years to 5 years), and then she takes him to Shiloh, and offers a sacrifice, and gives back her child to the Lord. And her famous words for us to follow are this:
“‘For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition which I asked of Him. Therefore I also have lent him to the LORD, as long as he lives he shall be lent to the Lord’. So she worshiped the Lord there.”
What an amazing response. I just weaned my son a couple weeks ago, at 20 months old. I cannot even imagine now having to give him up. In fact, I recently read this trilogy by Liz Curtis Higgs, a rendition of the story of Jacob, Rachel and Leah, and in it Leah has to give up her only son. I almost couldn’t even read the book, I cried so hard it devastated me, even comprehending the pain of giving over something I love so much. And that pain, that struggle is good, it’s real, but like Hannah, our response must always be that we commit all that God has given us back into His hands. As AW Tozer has said so perfectly, “everything is safe which we commit to Him, and nothing is really safe which is not so committed.”
So this is the secret, the part that is our part, the secret that we must take hold up and put into practice-the blessedness of possessing nothing. All things remain external to our heart, there is a single throne there, where only the King of Kings may reign, and though rival loves may fight, tooth and nail, to earn their way to the center, we battle more, harder, stronger longer, to keep our Lord Jesus securely on the throne.
Being Believed In
I can point to several specific points conversations that have shaped the entire course of my life. And I’m marveling today how influential teachers, leaders, coaches, and role models are in our lives. I can remember, as clear as if it were yesterday, sitting across a little table in JavaStop at OSU from my Writing 224 teacher, and going over the fiction story I had written. I was the only freshman in the class, my first semester of college, and scared out of my wits about writing for this man I considered a literary genious. I will never forget the comments he wrote. This is probably bad, but he wrote “*Explitive* this good!” on one portion of my paper and I will never forget that as long as I live, not because he wrote an explitive on my paper, but because I sat there in awe realizing that he really meant it. He really meant it was good and I was shell-shocked. He was seeing something, identifying something, calling something out that I was scared to show. His encouragment bolstered my courage enough to keep writing.
My Honor’s English teacher, Majorie Sandor, was the one who asked me to come see her in her office, and shared with me some of the most profoundly encouraging things, urging me to pursue an English degree (I started as a Psych major) because of what she somehow saw in my writing and literary discussion. This was another moment I will never forget–her tiny little frame and messy hair, over-sized glasses and cowl-neck sweater. I can still smell the old books in her office.
The President of Multnomah, Dan Lockwood, sitting across the dining table at Elmer’s across from Jeff and me, sharing words of encouragement that I still keep locked in my little heart because I don’t know exactly how God will fulfill or use them. I can still see his gentle eyes and feel the vinyl seat under my legs.
These moments are rare, I know, but when they come, they can be some of the most powerful things we will ever experience. It’s one thing to get encouragment from a parent or spouse or close friend. Those things are necessary and so powerful as well, but there is something about a teacher, a professor, an outside party who has no obligation to you whatsoever, nothing at all to gain by building you up (and perhaps even something to lose if you prove to be better at something than they are!), taking the time to set you aside and call out what they see in your life. And it is even more powerful when that person actually sets aside his or her own life in order to invest in yours.
I experienced a fourth of these rare moments yesterday, and probably the most significant one to date. It brought me to tears. I’d sort of got into my mind that I just needed to cross my t’s and dot my i’s in order to fulfill an internship and graduate in May with my Master’s. Pregnant, with a toddler at home, my only goal at this point was to finish my last class and settle down into mommyhood for, well for as long as I could see. And I’m still going to do that to a degree, but this professor, my beloved professor, who is what I want to be when I grow up :-), she set me aside and had this talk with me, and not only had this talk with me, but committed to walk with me along the journey. I hope to share more later, as the semester goes on, but I left her office and walked around campus, just shaking my head and marveling at God. “Why? Why me? Why are you so good to me?” My dreams and vision are so small, so limited, and His is so vast, so beautiful. His dreams are so much bigger than me, and yet He lets me play a part in the beautiful production. I feel like after a long season of disappointments, God is beginning to put some pieces into place, pieces that take all the brokenness, and miraculously form them into a beautiful picture that only He could have fathomed.
What I take from this, and what I hope you will hear, is this: We will never know how much our words mean to others, especially those who look up to us (and you never know who looks up to you!). I’ve also had a few conversations that were devastating. I had one last year that almost made me never want to share my heart for ministry again. But yesterday I did, for the first time since that discouraging conversation, and risked again being vulnerable. And I will tuck yesterday’s conversation away in my heart, to cherish and remember during times of discouragement, just as I have the others along the way that have so shaped my life.
Please hear this: What you say to others can change the course of history. Speak life! Speak encouragment. And if we are in a position of authority, don’t be threatened by those underneath! It is our responsiblity as leaders, parents, teachers, mentors, to raise up the younger generation. Our goal is that they would be better, smarter, and more influential than we are. If our goal is simply to protect our status, to guard our carefully constructed identity, we will miss out on raising up the next generation of leaders who will change our world for Christ. As a youngster, who has just received one of the most encouraging talks of my life, I can attest to the fact that being believed in is one of the most powerful things in the world. I pray that we would look for ways to encourage, build up, and call out the valuable gifts we see in others. You never know how God might use your words, and who He might raise up in the process. And don’t forget to thank those along the way who have believed in you.
My Last First Day of School
This morning was bittersweet. This is my fourth year of seminary. I’ve officially spent more time in graduate school than I did in undergrad! Almost all of the students that Jeff and I started school with have graduated and are long gone. New faces have popped up, really young ones, and I notice a few small changes around. There is a new microwave, which is a huge improvement on the old one which took five minutes to warm a bowl of soup. There is a plant shelf in the woman’s bathroom, and a pump of Trader Joe’s lotion by the sink. I know, not a big deal but I notice these things. The biggest change in the school is not visible-they’ve gone from Multnomah Bible College and Seminary to Multnomah University. Doesn’t affect me that much. Tuition has gone from $407 a credit to $423 a credit (which does affect me, unfortunately).
For the most part though, nothing is new. I am pregnant, but I’ve done that before too. Two years ago I started a fall term pregnant as well. And this isn’t my first time as a seminary mom, we did that last year as well. I guess the one thing that’s significant is that this is my last first day of school…I think (more on that later). As I look around, waves of memories roll over me. The smells, the sights, the familiar voices. I have too many memories of throwing up in the bathrooms when morning sickness overtook me that first spring term. I remember hysterically crying in the stairwell when a traumatic family event took place. I remember first meeting my friend Liz, and awkwardly conversing about degrees and programs. I remember (and am beginning to even feel) laboring up the staircase 8 1/2 months pregnant, wondering how they they seemed to add more stairs every week. I remember the first day I went to school without Jeff, crying in my car trying to muster up the courage to go it along. I remember hundreds of trips driving to and from McMinnville. In many ways Multnomah University has become a second home to me. The professors are friends, mentors, spiritual parents. The students, though perhaps not many are close friends, are familiar, sharing the common goal of desiring to serve the Lord, and sharing the common struggle of work schedules, homework loads, obscene school loans, and family commitments.
But this Monday was my first last day of school. Strangely though, I don’t really want to be done. I’m not sure what lies ahead, but more on that later. Tonight I’m just reflecting on what an amazing place Multnomah has been for me. More than an education, it’s been a place of refuge, growth, challenge, safety. A place where I can risk, fail, hurt, be vulnerable, ask questions, doubt, challenge, and love. It’s been a place where I feel valued, invested in, and cared for. I could never ask for anything more than what Multnomah has been for me. So tonight I just say thanks, thanks to the professors, counselors, janitors, president, and people who have made Multnomah home for me. On my last first day of school I’m thankful.
The God Who Grieves
Today I’m out at Riversong (Mom & Dad’s), as our home is shown as an Open House today. It’s a sweet retreat, and we all agree that it’s way more fun now that we all don’t live together. 🙂 Really, in the best sense, it feels like a treat to be out in the boonies, Dutch is like a kid in a candy store playing with Oma and Papa, and Jeff and I are getting some much needed studying done.
So I’m studying for the retreat, and struck by the shortest verse in the Bible, one that I’ve always marveled at, but see again for the first time today. John 11:35, “Jesus wept.” Lazarus is dead. Mary and Martha have placed all their hope in Jesus to come heal Lazarus, and instead He wastes his time (it seems) and shows up 4 days too late and all hope is lost. Lazarus is dead. Now Jesus, who deliberately disappointed these women by delaying His arrival (more on this later), already knows that He will soon raise Lazarus from the dead. But what does He does first? Does he say, “Silly ladies! Can’t you just trust me? I’ll raise him up. Settle down and quit crying!” No. “He groaned in His spirit and was troubled.” And then: “Jesus wept.”
I have alread asserted that God deliberately disappoints us. But here is the remarkable truth: If we think that God is aloofly and distantly watching our pain from afar, we are tragically wrong. That is not the God we serve. The God we serve and love and worship chooses to experience every ounce of pain that we experience, with us. If you are hurting, God is hurting with you. God weeps with you. God has wept with me. He wept with them. He weeps with you. If God chooses to disappoint us, allow us to hurt, send us through the fire of tragedy and pain, He goes through it with us. He weeps with us. This is the God we serve. He is the God who grieves.
Nothing is Harder Than Doing Your Own Thing
This morning I had the luxury of sitting at Starbucks with a hot Tazo tea and my Bible. Jeff was with the Dutcher, out for a bike ride (Dutch in his little bike seat with his blue helmet is about the cutest thing in the world), and I had the rare luxury of quiet solitude. I read Proverbs 1-9, which is basically a series of contrasts between Wisdom and Folly, both personified as women. While wisdom is “life to those who find” it and gives “health to the flesh”, the way of folly has a different end: Your honor given to another, your years to the cruel one, aliens filled with your wealth, your labors go to the house of another, you mourn at last, and your flesh and your body are consumed. But “the path of the just is like the shining sun, that shines ever brighter unto the perfect day.” (Prov. 4:18, 22; 5:9-11)
Recently I talked to someone whom I love so much. She was sharing, with honest contrite humility, about the pain and grief she experiences due to the aftermath of poor choices. It does no good to look back and say, “If only I would have…” and yet the experience preaches a more powerful sermon than we’d likely hear in church. Doing our own thing is the hardest thing in th world. Sin, disobeying God, even just casually disregarding God’s ways produces more grief, heartache, and strife than any hardship we’ll ever experience in our struggle to follow God.
This week I’ve often had to pinch myself, taking inventory of my blessings. We have a maybe maybe possibility on the horizon that is the most exciting thing I can imagine. Even considering it makes me think, “Why on earth would we of all people deserve such a thing?” And we don’t deserve it, but I feel like all week God has been quietly whispering to me, “I told you I’d bless you. Just trust me.” So many times this year, when it felt like everything was going wrong and why did God hate me and want to take away everything from me, so many times I wondered, “Is this really worth it? Is it worth surrendering to God again and trusting Him?” And of course it is, even if He never blessed me with another thing in the world, of course it is worth it. But I’m reminded again, by life and by His Word, that His path is always and will always be the path of most blessing. They may be delayed (sometimes until eternity!), or hidden (we may be have to change our perspective because blessings have no dollar value), but the blessing is there, and I am reminded all over again of the loving Father Heart of God, who delights in His children and longs to see us follow His way, for His glory and for our good.
I wish I could plead with the world to understand that God’s commands are not burdensome (1 John 5:3). I wish they could understand that when he calls us to do or not to do something, it is to protect us from grief, pain, and lingering regret. God, help us to trust in Your character, to trust that Your good, and that as a loving Father You know best. Help me, help us. We don’t want to do our thing. Help us today. Amen.
LiveDifferent Challenge (22): Use Stuff, Love People; Enjoy Things, Worship God
I will not lie–I’m loving having a home. Sometimes it feels a little funny, when I pull in the driveway I still feel like I’m visiting my brother. But filled with our things, and with Jeff and Dutch, it has quickly become home to me. I have however, noticed a very subtle change during this unpack (as mentioned before, I’ve done this 8 times in our married life). I’ve noticed that stuff has become markedly more exterior than ever before. Let me explain.
I love beauty. I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that it is natural and normal to relish and enjoy the beauty in things. God does. So naturally, my goal as a wife and mother is not only to create a place of utility, with functional furniture and easily accessible dishes, but to also create a place of beauty, tranquility, and peace. I firmly believe that that is a right and worthy goal. It has actually been really fun getting this house ready because our very goal is to have the house showcase-ready for potential buyers and weekend open-houses. So it’s actually my responsibility to have the house beautiful, and is a perfect excuse to exercise my creativity in home decor. But, as I’ve unpacked and cleaned, arranged, hung pictures, fluffed pillows, folded towels, I’ve noticed that though there is certainly a joy, a very deep and profound joy, in creating this beautiful haven we now call home, it’s strangely exterior to my heart. Before, keeping and beautifying our home was very much part of me, and of course it still is to an extent, but it no longer has any bearing on who I am as a person. My house does not define me. And in that, I’m surprised by the fact that I no longer love my stuff. I don’t! I don’t love my clothes, I don’t love my furniture, and I don’t love my house! They are wonderful, beautiful, functional, useful, and I thank God each day for all of the stuff that I have that carries me through my day. I am thankful for the car that runs, the beautiful dining room table that was purchased 8 months ago for a song at a furniture sale, that Oneida dishes I found at Goodwill yesterday for 99cents. I am thankful for these things, but I don’t love them. I use them and enjoy them. I love people, and worship God.
I’d like to think that I’m just way behind the curve and the rest of the world has already mastered this concept. But sadly, I think we’re all still learning. Right now I’m studying for the upcoming retreat, exploring the final session topic: Enjoying Fulfillment: How to enjoy God’s blessing without worshipping them. Sadly, in our culture we do worship stuff. We love stuff and use people. We get married and use our spouse to provide us happiness, then when the spouse no longer fills that use and fails to make us happy, we move onto another spouse who we then use to make us happy again. We use our friends, family, co-workers. We engage in relationships and friendships so long as that person contributes to our well-being. As soon as they deplete our emotional resources or do not contribute to our happiness, we move on. We use people.
And sadly, we love things. We are notorious for the delusional belief that more stuff will make us happy. Now that we’ve moved, we were planning on taking a trip to Ikea to get inexpensive things we need for the house. Our city’s Ikea has been open for over a year, but we’ve never gone because I didn’t want to create discontentment in my heart about not having a home (like going shopping when you have no money). So we figured now we’d go and find stuff we need. But strangely, as I’ve thought this week about taking a trip there, I cannot think of any stuff that we need. (Well, we need a plastic shower curtain liner, which will run me about $1.50, and we need a little curtain rod for Dutch’s room, which is $3.99.) Besides that, I can’t for the life of me think of anything that we need. Blessed state! The mistake I (and all Americans) usually make is that we love stuff, so we love to go to stores to see what we need, because we love to see all the stuff that we supposedly need.
So, I have not arrived, but I am beginning to see a tiny hair of progress by the grace of God. The clothing fast (I’m almost at 5 months without buying clothes!), the year of living with mom and dad, the jobless state that has been our life :-), I’m beginning to see how God was slowly extracting poisonous roots of materialism from my heart. I know there are probably still some pretty stubborn ones in there, but I’ll trust God to continue to root those out.
So, where am I going with all this? I suppose I’m just challenging myself, and you if you wish, to make a conscious effort this week to simply use stuff and enjoy people. Don’t use the people in your life–love them unconditionally. Don’t love the stuff you own, use it. Enjoy the things that you have, but gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and worship Him, the one who made all things. How can we do this practically? For me this means being content with the state of our home, without looking for more things that we “need”. It means pouring my time and effort into being with people, ministering, working on my notes for the retreat, playing with Dutch, talking with Jeff. It means spending less time thinking about how much weight I’ve gained (6 lbs. since my last prenatal appointment–good grief! Ok, done thinking about it.), or how all of Dutch’s pants are too short and he looks kind of dorky.
Use and enjoy the things that you have. Love the people in your life (even the difficult ones!), and worship the God who gives us all things freely to enjoy. Worship Him alone.
Relationships Re-aligned
I almost don’t know where to start because the cup of my heart is overflowing and it won’t just pour out in a neat little spout, it’s just running out all over the place. My heart is full. I do have a migraine right now (I think we’re going to name this baby Migraina or Migraino depending upon the gender), but I’m so blessed it kind of doesn’t matter. On the one hand I will say this, moving with a toddler, while pregnant, is not advisable. 🙂 I asked Jeff last night, “Why is it that this move seems 100 times harder than any other we’ve done?” (we’ve moved 8 times in a little over 5 years). I knew it wasn’t pregnancy because we moved while I was pregnant last time. Ah! Then the light went on. Dutch! It is my 20-month old wild man who is causing the challenge! It is a blessed, hilarious, sweet, wouldn’t-trade-it-for-a-moment challenge but it is a challenge nonetheless. Last time we moved Dutch was immobile. Ah but now. Now! It is an adventure! Then little Migraina/Migraino decides to make his/her presence known, and alas, the boxes are taunting me with their still-full state.
But, I am blessed! I feel like I’ve gone to the relational chiropractor and had them aligned. Let me explain. First, my parents. If you only know me through this blog, which has only existed for a year, perhaps you don’t understand the amazing depth of love and relationship I have with my parents…because I whined so much about living there. But while it was hard to not have my own home, and hard at times to feel like I was in high school all over again, I adore, admire, and cherish my parents above all over relationships, except Jeff. They sacrifice to no end. Last week my dad fell off a ladder and badly bruised his chest. Insisting he was fine, he and Jeff moved our entire household, without any help. They carried everything–beds, couch, dressers. Then, yesterday afternoon, upon my mom’s prodding he finally went to the doctor because the pain in his ribs was still so severe. He had two broken ribs! With two broken ribs he moved our entire household! He made four trips in with his truck so that we wouldn’t have to rent a van, he drove us to our cousin’s house so we could pick up the free couch she gave us (answer to prayer–free couch!). He fixed the dresser drawer that flew off the truck and was driven over (!), and glued together Dutch’s airplane toy that was broken. His love and service to us is unending.
Then there’s my mom. My relationship with my mom is that of friendship. One of the things that was hardest for me living there was that I felt like I’d lost my friendship with my mom. Whereas before I would call her, ask advice, email her, etc. when I lived there that was strangely lost. It was the same as when two friends move in and become roommates and then realize they are no longer friends, they’re just roommates. I grieved over that when we lived there, but a wise woman assured me we’d be friends again, and even better because of the year we’d gone through sharing a kitchen (!). And it’s true. I just hung up the phone with my mom, and it’s as if our friendship has been re-aligned. Now we have the freedom to be friends again. I’m so thankful to have her back, as strange as that might sound.
And perhaps the relationship that’s most sweetly re-aligned is that of my sweet husband. (ok now the tears are coming) This might sound like an exaggeration, but I feel like we’re newlyweds again (except now with a toddler and a growing belly!). There is a sacredness about sharing every detail of life together, about forging ahead, just the two of you, sharing challenges, hopes, sorrows. It was no one’s fault, but that was missing this past year, and I was afraid we’d never get it back. This morning as he left for work, I just held him in my arms, speechless with how proud I am of him, how much I admire and love him, how thankful I am for his constancy, support, and wisdom. Last night I was struggling with something, and it was so sweet to be able to curl up next to him on the couch and just ask for his advice, to hear his wisdom, the way he can see through the drama details and see to the heart of the issue. I know this past year was soooo good for us, but I have to say I’m thankful to have our relationship re-aligned.
I do miss seeing Dutch playing outside with my dad. I miss the river, the horses, the smell of the country, the sight of Dutch curled up with my mom reading a book. But we’re headed out there this weekend, and I’ll savor those sights and smells then. Right now I’m just humbled, thankful, and blessed by my relationships re-aligned.
LiveDifferent Challenge (21): Turn up the Heat
Today it’s supposed to reach 104 degrees, so of all days this is not the time to try to convince you that Oregon is a cold state. But it is. Relationally that is. Now I love Oregon. I bleed green, I love the trees, the rolling hills, the lack of sales tax, the fact that we have mountains and oceans just a few hours apart. I love everything about Oregon, even the rain. Our little stint in California only made me realize that much more that nothing save a voice from heaven could get me to leave my beloved Pacific Northwest. I love it here.
Since I’ve lived here my whole life, I’ve become pretty familiar with the climate–I know that summer doesn’t start until the 4th of July and isn’t over until the end of September. I know that it’s always sunny over Finals week of Winter term, then rains again all of April. But it wasn’t until recently that I became more aware of the relational climate here. One of my professors moved here from Texas (since that’s where DTS is, pretty much all professors move here from Texas), and remarked how it took almost a year of adjustment to get used to the cool unfriendliness of Oregonians. What? I think of myself as a friendly person, so this caught me off guard. Are we really unfriendly? My travels have included London, Paris, and the California Bay Area, and Oregon is really friendly compared to those areas!
But then I took a trip and visited my brother and his family in Utah. I’d heard their stories–they moved there and after their first visit to church they’d had 3-4 invites over to dinner at different couple’s houses. They had neighbors bring treats over, offers to help them move in, and even had a neighbor bring over little girl hand-me-down clothes for their daughter. I thought of our church in our previous town (which was wonderful, this isn’t again that church), and realized that we were there almost two years before we were ever invited over to dinner anywhere (and that was from the pastor himself!). Then, we moved here, and Jeff and I were just marveling that we’ve been going here for almost 14 months and only once have we been invited over for dinner by someone from church, and that was from a high school friend after we’d had them over for dinner. We’ve had tons of people over to our house, so it’s not as if we’re sitting around waiting for people to befriend us… it’s just made us think.
Now perhaps you’re thinking, “Uh, if nobody invites you over there’s probably something wrong with you!” Perhaps you’re right. We’ve made plenty of connections with people, but what I’m addressing here is the fact that perhaps there is a cooler relational culture in the NW. But regardless of where you live, the fact of the matter is that the church must permeate the culture. Must. The church is not peripheral to the world, the world is peripheral to the church. No matter what the culture is like in which we live, our job, as Christians, is to rise above any cultural weaknesses and be the hands and feet of Christ to those around us.
Thinking about this, I also read a post about the Hawaiian concept of ‘Ohana (it’s a really great post), and thought more about how Hawaiians seem to understand the concept of hospitality. And we all know that the Southerners got it down. But again, it seems to me that regardless of where we live, love, service, and hospitality should mark our lives as Christians. This is to truly LiveDifferent.
So our challenge this week is to look around. Do you see someone new? Invite them over for dinner. You don’t have a nice house for entertaining? Who cares? They won’t! People are so blessed to be welcomed, no one is evaluating your house decor. Hear about someone having a baby? Take them meals. Someone moving? Help them load boxes (you can help us!) :-). Someone new move in down your street? Take them a welcome basket and let them know you’re happy they’re there. It takes so little to really bless people. I remember so clearly the little acts of love that have blessed me. When our neighbor, Tony, brings us fresh fish from his Mexico trips. When our friends from McMinnville brought us the hot meal after Dutch was born and we devoured it like wolves. When a guy from Jeff’s work, whom he hardly knew, drove an hour to come help us move. When I walk down the driveway and the neighbors wave and smile.
It might be hot right now, but I suggest that we turn up the relational heat a little and thaw out the coolness that can characterize our culture. In a country of independence, reach out and help those who need it, and receive from those who offer to help you. Invite, bless, give, help. Choose to warm up your little sphere of influence for the glory of God.