I was out of town week before last. I had gone to Ft. Worth to help make preparations for my brother's wedding. While I was gone, I took my Bible with me (always take it when I travel anywhere) to keep up with my study of Esther. I only managed to do it one day the entire time that I was gone. In a general context, it's not a big deal. I don't believe the Father is waiting to whip me for not reading my Bible everyday. Specifically, however, it is a big deal. For a mind like mine--with a history of dark and depressive thoughts; prone to over-thinking, self-degradation, and overindulgence of imagination--it is even critical. I noticed the difference almost immediately. Apathy, fear, irritation, and the irrational were pressing hard to find a way in. So on Wednesday of this past week, I was determined not to go to bed until I had spent time in the Word and real time in prayer. For me, it makes a difference.
On Facebook, one of my friends had noted, "Faith is not a noun, but a verb." As I pondered the effects my lack of study produces along with these words, I had this epiphany: Faith takes work. I suppose that's a no-brainer for some and I actually felt silly when the thought first hit me. I know that's the truth and, perhaps, have always known it, so why the light bulb moment? I suppose because I experienced how quickly my attitude shifted in such a short time. I went to church while I was gone, was surrounded by godly people, and I continued to pray each day, but it wasn't enough. To keep my mind healthy and stable, to maintain my relationship with Christ, to be the servant I need to be, I need to be in God's word.
Faith takes work just like a relationship or producing something good takes work. It has taken me nearly two years to even begin to understand God's grace and how it works in my life. I still don't get it, except that I know it has nothing to do with me. However, the work it takes to increase and strengthen my faith is nothing in comparison to the work Christ did to provide me that grace. Here is what I have learned (so far) on a long journey of faith:
"Faith comes by hearing, and hearing the word of God." Romans 10:17 NIV
Read the Bible, be in His word. That's where we learn about God's love for us and how He worked to rescue us from sin and condemnation. The more I read it, the more secure I am about my salvation and the more in tune I am with His presence in my life.
"Faith without works is dead." James 2:26b NAS
Or "faith is not a noun, but a verb". As we increase our faith by being in the Word, we in turn put our faith to work by applying what we learn: tell people about Jesus (Mark 16:15), look after orphans and widows (James 1:27), help the weak (Acts 20:35), bind up the brokenhearted (Isaiah 61:1) . . . in short, be like Jesus "It is enough for the disciple that he become as his teacher, and the slave as his master." Matthew 10:25 NAS
Feelings are not an indicator of faith. If you are having a hard day, if your spirit is in turmoil, if you are struggling with anger or worry and anxiety, it doesn’t mean that somehow you don’t have enough faith. If you want to find someone who can relate, go read the Psalms of David, the man after God’s own heart—such a man must be full of faith, right? It’s not about how you are feeling, but about what you do on those days or in those moments. Lifting your voice in prayer is an act of faith. Reading His word is an act of faith. Running from opportunities to sin is an act of faith.
Faith takes work. I have discovered for myself that staying in His word is the best way for me to increase and strengthen my faith. It enables me to grow in wisdom, be more compassionate, trust Him wholeheartedly, pray more, and truly walk by faith.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A Good Man is Hard to Find
I had a bit of an “off” day at school today. I was off, the kids were off, the computers were off (too much traffic trying to watch the Inauguration), everything was OFF. The thing that threw me further off than I was when I arrived was my boy sunshine, Sonny. He was WAY off. He hadn’t done his homework because he didn’t have time because of his game—his video game, to clarify. I was left with the unsavory task of following through on consequences that he was well aware of in advance. He shut down, flopped down, and what should have been a fairly easy remedy involving the principal’s intervention ended with three of us—myself, the principal, & the campus policeman—carrying him to the principal’s office. Once there, he refused to budge from his spot on the floor, which was fine since his was no longer a disruption in the hallway. I felt compelled to put in a call to the one person I knew could reach Sonny even in shutdown mode and get him to comply: Mr. Jones.
Mr. Jones is an amazing, soft-spoken man who was the counselor on our campus last year and really helped out with Sonny and got to him in a way no one else could. I don’t know what it is in Mr. Jones that Sonny responds to, but something about the man makes Sonny want to obey him. Personally, I believe it’s the Holy Spirit. I know Mr. Jones to be a godly man of faith. He is good, kind, and yet no-nonsense. When I saw him approaching the building in his crimson shirt and khaki slacks, he may as well have been on a great white horse, armor blazing in the morning sun. I knew everything was going to be OK because of his connection with Sonny. And it was.
He spoke to Sonny about his strengths. How tough he is when he is faced with obstacles and how he conquers them, something that is true about Sonny on a selective basis. Mr. Jones told Sonny how he knew he was a good, strong boy who didn’t need to flop in the floor because he is tough and can take responsibility. Sonny does not generally take responsibility for himself, but he will more often in the future because Mr. Jones put it in his head. Oh that every man in his life could be like Mr. Jones!
One of the great frustrations in my job is the lack of solid, positive male role models in the lives of my children. Some because they don’t have fathers; some because the fathers they have are poor examples. I was so thankful for Mr. Jones last year, and John and Mr. Noles. They were daily examples of strong, positive men and they are missed. How I long to see more men of such caliber! I want to encourage men to be a “Mr. Jones” to children within the sphere of their influence. You guys just don’t know how valuable and vitally important you are! Somewhere, there are little eyes watching you, seeking to know how a man should be . . . so be men:
who “find favor in the eyes of the Lord” Genesis 8:8
“whom the Lord knows face to face” Deuteronomy 34:10
“after His own heart” 1 Samuel 13:14
whose “good understanding produces favor” Proverbs 13:15
Whose “gentle answer turns away wrath” Proverbs 15:1
Who “love at all times” Proverbs 17:17
Who “are the light of the world” Matthew 5:14
Who “walk by faith” 2 Corinthians 5:7
“Of whom the world is not worthy” Hebrews 11:38
Mr. Jones is an amazing, soft-spoken man who was the counselor on our campus last year and really helped out with Sonny and got to him in a way no one else could. I don’t know what it is in Mr. Jones that Sonny responds to, but something about the man makes Sonny want to obey him. Personally, I believe it’s the Holy Spirit. I know Mr. Jones to be a godly man of faith. He is good, kind, and yet no-nonsense. When I saw him approaching the building in his crimson shirt and khaki slacks, he may as well have been on a great white horse, armor blazing in the morning sun. I knew everything was going to be OK because of his connection with Sonny. And it was.
He spoke to Sonny about his strengths. How tough he is when he is faced with obstacles and how he conquers them, something that is true about Sonny on a selective basis. Mr. Jones told Sonny how he knew he was a good, strong boy who didn’t need to flop in the floor because he is tough and can take responsibility. Sonny does not generally take responsibility for himself, but he will more often in the future because Mr. Jones put it in his head. Oh that every man in his life could be like Mr. Jones!
One of the great frustrations in my job is the lack of solid, positive male role models in the lives of my children. Some because they don’t have fathers; some because the fathers they have are poor examples. I was so thankful for Mr. Jones last year, and John and Mr. Noles. They were daily examples of strong, positive men and they are missed. How I long to see more men of such caliber! I want to encourage men to be a “Mr. Jones” to children within the sphere of their influence. You guys just don’t know how valuable and vitally important you are! Somewhere, there are little eyes watching you, seeking to know how a man should be . . . so be men:
who “find favor in the eyes of the Lord” Genesis 8:8
“whom the Lord knows face to face” Deuteronomy 34:10
“after His own heart” 1 Samuel 13:14
whose “good understanding produces favor” Proverbs 13:15
Whose “gentle answer turns away wrath” Proverbs 15:1
Who “love at all times” Proverbs 17:17
Who “are the light of the world” Matthew 5:14
Who “walk by faith” 2 Corinthians 5:7
“Of whom the world is not worthy” Hebrews 11:38
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sitting in Seats & Talking & Other Things Happening in Cars
I love road trips. Taking a road trip is one of my most favorite things. My favorite road-trippin’ buddies are my best friend and our dogs. We’ve yet to all be in a car together, but I’ve taken a trip with both dogs and it was quite fun. I love taking trips with Sophie. For the most part she loves being in the car. She likes to keep her paw on my wrist as I shift gears and she doesn’t throw up much.
There are some great tunes abounding for the seasoned road-tripper. When Jenny and I go, we’re total Shania Twain freaks. Neither one of us really listen to her unless we’re stuck in a car together. For Sarah and I, there’s a lot of Van Halen, Lyle Lovett, Cake, Shawn Colvin, etc. At least once, “Under Pressure” by Queen with David Bowie will be played. Sarah’s David Bowie and I’m Freddie Mercury. I can even hit that really high note just before the bridge. It’s not pretty and I really shouldn’t, but I can.
I love the conversations that arise in the course of the road trip. Some can be raucously funny and some can be preciously poignant. You can learn a lot about a person when you are confined to a small space together for several days and several hundred miles, especially at night. I don’t know what it is about being in a car in the vast darkness of lonely roads, but the walls come down. People say things, share things that they can’t put into words in the daylight—unless of course we are talking about my mother, and then this concept does not apply. If you know anything about my mom, you understand. It’s all psychological really. Night brings with it a veil of sorts that allows all others to fall away.
Here lately, I’ve come to really treasure the journeys I take alone. The longest trip I’ve ever done by myself was Lubbock to Arizona to visit the parents of a friend. I got to cross New Mexico and see parts of it I’ve never seen before. I drove through the Plains of San Agustin where the Very Large Array (VLA) is located. The VLA is that long line of radio antennae that stretch across the plain and was briefly featured in the film “Contact” with Jodie Foster. It was a pretty cool spectacle and very odd topographically speaking. Something about the lay of that land messes with your visual/sensory perception. Even though I was driving at a high rate of speed, I felt like I wasn’t moving at all. Trust me, I was going fast.
I like to sing in the car and have my tunes along, usually Sister Hazel. I’ve compiled a CD with all my favorite Christian music that I really love. The great thing about driving by yourself is that you can sing as loud as you want and no one is going to be offended. I usually try to sing all the parts at the same time in any given harmony. It’s humanly impossible, but I try. Even more than that, I love to turn off the radio and sing all the devotional songs I know. Again, since I’m by myself, no one has to get hurt. And anyway Psalm 100:1 says, “Make a joyful noise to the Lord . . .” It didn’t say anything about it being pretty.
The thing I like best about traveling alone is the time it affords me to pray, really pray. I can talk to God about all the things I mean to day in and day out, but often forget for procrastinating. I can pray for each person on my mind and speak to Him in earnest on their behalf. I can bring to Him the things pressing on my own heart, nothing withheld, as much as I need. I’m less likely to fall asleep while driving, which is easy to do in bed. I’ve found myself dozing off even when I’m on my knees and the sun’s still shining. It’s just me and Him in the car, though. And I can take the time to praise Him and thank Him for all He has done for me.
What are your favorite happenings, etc., in a car on a journey down a long and winding road?
There are some great tunes abounding for the seasoned road-tripper. When Jenny and I go, we’re total Shania Twain freaks. Neither one of us really listen to her unless we’re stuck in a car together. For Sarah and I, there’s a lot of Van Halen, Lyle Lovett, Cake, Shawn Colvin, etc. At least once, “Under Pressure” by Queen with David Bowie will be played. Sarah’s David Bowie and I’m Freddie Mercury. I can even hit that really high note just before the bridge. It’s not pretty and I really shouldn’t, but I can.
I love the conversations that arise in the course of the road trip. Some can be raucously funny and some can be preciously poignant. You can learn a lot about a person when you are confined to a small space together for several days and several hundred miles, especially at night. I don’t know what it is about being in a car in the vast darkness of lonely roads, but the walls come down. People say things, share things that they can’t put into words in the daylight—unless of course we are talking about my mother, and then this concept does not apply. If you know anything about my mom, you understand. It’s all psychological really. Night brings with it a veil of sorts that allows all others to fall away.
Here lately, I’ve come to really treasure the journeys I take alone. The longest trip I’ve ever done by myself was Lubbock to Arizona to visit the parents of a friend. I got to cross New Mexico and see parts of it I’ve never seen before. I drove through the Plains of San Agustin where the Very Large Array (VLA) is located. The VLA is that long line of radio antennae that stretch across the plain and was briefly featured in the film “Contact” with Jodie Foster. It was a pretty cool spectacle and very odd topographically speaking. Something about the lay of that land messes with your visual/sensory perception. Even though I was driving at a high rate of speed, I felt like I wasn’t moving at all. Trust me, I was going fast.
I like to sing in the car and have my tunes along, usually Sister Hazel. I’ve compiled a CD with all my favorite Christian music that I really love. The great thing about driving by yourself is that you can sing as loud as you want and no one is going to be offended. I usually try to sing all the parts at the same time in any given harmony. It’s humanly impossible, but I try. Even more than that, I love to turn off the radio and sing all the devotional songs I know. Again, since I’m by myself, no one has to get hurt. And anyway Psalm 100:1 says, “Make a joyful noise to the Lord . . .” It didn’t say anything about it being pretty.
The thing I like best about traveling alone is the time it affords me to pray, really pray. I can talk to God about all the things I mean to day in and day out, but often forget for procrastinating. I can pray for each person on my mind and speak to Him in earnest on their behalf. I can bring to Him the things pressing on my own heart, nothing withheld, as much as I need. I’m less likely to fall asleep while driving, which is easy to do in bed. I’ve found myself dozing off even when I’m on my knees and the sun’s still shining. It’s just me and Him in the car, though. And I can take the time to praise Him and thank Him for all He has done for me.
What are your favorite happenings, etc., in a car on a journey down a long and winding road?
Friday, December 19, 2008
Tagged by Paige
1. Post rules on your blog.
2. Answer the six “4″ items.
3. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving them a comment.
4 Things I Did Yesterday: Went to work, packed up part of the kitchen, had dinner with Jeff & Amy +3, spent first night back in my house
4 Things I Look Forward to: Ladies Bible Class, the Open, unconsciousness, heaven
4 Things On My Wish List: Books, ipod dock, unconsciousness, personal vegetable cutter
4 Restaurants I like: Carino's, Glazed Honey Ham, Taco Bell (YES, I like Taco Bell!!!), The Burger House
4 Favorite TV Shows: Scrubs, 24, Arrested Development, The Secret Life of the American Teenager
4 People I Tag (You’re it): Susan, Tim, um . . . . ????
2. Answer the six “4″ items.
3. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving them a comment.
4 Things I Did Yesterday: Went to work, packed up part of the kitchen, had dinner with Jeff & Amy +3, spent first night back in my house
4 Things I Look Forward to: Ladies Bible Class, the Open, unconsciousness, heaven
4 Things On My Wish List: Books, ipod dock, unconsciousness, personal vegetable cutter
4 Restaurants I like: Carino's, Glazed Honey Ham, Taco Bell (YES, I like Taco Bell!!!), The Burger House
4 Favorite TV Shows: Scrubs, 24, Arrested Development, The Secret Life of the American Teenager
4 People I Tag (You’re it): Susan, Tim, um . . . . ????
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Grace Sufficient & New Resolve
(This is post is quite long. Consider yourself warned.)
I have been contemplating the apostle Paul a lot lately. This contemplation was prompted by some frustrations about things I’m experiencing in my life right now and an ongoing discussion with a friend whose wisdom is greater than my own. I have a thorn in my flesh, a plague on my spirit, so who better could understand such things than Paul? My thorn is clinical depression. It is something I have struggled with for most of my life. I don’t know that this is the place to elaborate on how much I wrestle with it, but I will say that it is a hard road to walk as it affects mood, physical well-being, perception, and relationships.
At the beginning of 2008, some very special friends and I decided to ask God for one thing that we wanted for ourselves, one thing that He would do in our lives this year. My request was to be completely healed of this wretched affliction. I was tired. Tired of what it does to me, tired of it affecting all aspects of my life. If anyone can make me well, it is the One who made me. So I began to pray every single day that God remove this thorn from me. For a while there in early Spring, I thought that He was granting my request. I was feeling so good and not having bad nights anymore . . . it was wonderful while it lasted and now we are at the final few weeks of 2008. I’ve felt pretty low and have had a lot more bad nights since the Spring, the most recent being two nights ago.
What is God doing with me? I wondered. Why am I not healed? Am I not praying right? How could He possibly want me to live this way? Couldn’t I do more for Him, be more for Him if I were healthy in spirit? These and thoughts in this vein have been tormenting me for weeks now. I realize that the year is not over yet and that God could do something really amazing in the days that are left. It was these thoughts that prompted the dialogue with my much wiser friend in Christ, who reminded me of Paul’s struggle in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. Paul says his thorn was a “messenger of Satan”—reminiscent of Job, perhaps?—that kept him from becoming arrogant. “Concerning this I entreated the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you . . .’” 2 Cor. 12:8 & 9 (NAS) Did this comfort Paul or make it easier to deal with his affliction? Or was it just truth that Paul had to hold onto when he wanted to give up or give in? These were questions that my friend put to me as he tried to help me make sense of my own struggle. 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 seems to indicate it made it easier for Paul, but we only really know what the Word tells us. Personally, I think he must have clung to those words at times when there was nothing else to be done.
What I envy in Paul’s situation, is that God spoke to him directly . . . ”My grace is sufficient . . .” Except for the notion of actually being spoken to by God likely scaring me to literal death, I feel I could endure anything if He’d just say to me, ”My daughter, this is the way it has to be.” God said it. That settles it, right? As it is, I have found that I have an easier time of it if I just live as though He’s said so.
I had an epiphany in Bible class today. We were studying Luke 9:51-62 and how Jesus “resolutely set His face to go to Jerusalem” knowing full well what awaited Him there: betrayal, torture, a trial, and death. He was going to do what He was sent by the Father to do. Not only that, He was resolved to do it. “Unwavering adherence to one’s purpose” was one definition I found for resolve. It fit nicely with the lesson today because Jesus didn’t let anything deter this final journey to Jerusalem. Not the unwelcoming Samaritans, not the fact that He had no place to lay His head, not His family, not His simpler past before He began His ministry, and not the horrors He knew He would face at the end of the road. His purpose was to put an end to the enslaving power of sin once and for all, to die for His creation—you and me. The point? That if He could do all of that for us, should there be any concerns about what it will cost us to follow Him?
That’s when all these thoughts muddling around in my head went “click” into place. I was able to see, really see, how God’s grace has been sufficient for me, how it would always be. My friend had suggested that I adjust my prayers for healing to say, “God, take this cup from me, but if You choose not to, use it to Your glory.” I know that He has used it because of Barb, a Canadian woman I met through an online support group, who put on Christ this past summer. I never would have met Barb if not for this thorn. There are a lot of things in my life that would be completely different were it not for my struggle with depression. I would perhaps have had a lot less heartache, but I finally realize that I would be missing so much more. I don’t know that I would have ever come to the Open. I don’t know that I would have taken the road that led me to be a school teacher. I don’t know that my relationship with God would be what it is today. I don’t know that I would be so utterly certain of my own salvation, if not for this thorn. What I do know is that I can't imagine my life without these things and I would not trade them.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (NIV) I found my healing today. Not in actual terms, rather in my understanding. And I have found a new resolve: If Jesus can go through what He went through for my sake on the cross, I can live with depression for His sake and follow Him. My prayer is that He will in every circumstance be glorified through it. I will not be deterred by what others—family & friends—say or do. I will not waver because of inconvenience, discomfort, fear, or pain. I will not look back. I am resolved.
I have been contemplating the apostle Paul a lot lately. This contemplation was prompted by some frustrations about things I’m experiencing in my life right now and an ongoing discussion with a friend whose wisdom is greater than my own. I have a thorn in my flesh, a plague on my spirit, so who better could understand such things than Paul? My thorn is clinical depression. It is something I have struggled with for most of my life. I don’t know that this is the place to elaborate on how much I wrestle with it, but I will say that it is a hard road to walk as it affects mood, physical well-being, perception, and relationships.
At the beginning of 2008, some very special friends and I decided to ask God for one thing that we wanted for ourselves, one thing that He would do in our lives this year. My request was to be completely healed of this wretched affliction. I was tired. Tired of what it does to me, tired of it affecting all aspects of my life. If anyone can make me well, it is the One who made me. So I began to pray every single day that God remove this thorn from me. For a while there in early Spring, I thought that He was granting my request. I was feeling so good and not having bad nights anymore . . . it was wonderful while it lasted and now we are at the final few weeks of 2008. I’ve felt pretty low and have had a lot more bad nights since the Spring, the most recent being two nights ago.
What is God doing with me? I wondered. Why am I not healed? Am I not praying right? How could He possibly want me to live this way? Couldn’t I do more for Him, be more for Him if I were healthy in spirit? These and thoughts in this vein have been tormenting me for weeks now. I realize that the year is not over yet and that God could do something really amazing in the days that are left. It was these thoughts that prompted the dialogue with my much wiser friend in Christ, who reminded me of Paul’s struggle in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. Paul says his thorn was a “messenger of Satan”—reminiscent of Job, perhaps?—that kept him from becoming arrogant. “Concerning this I entreated the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you . . .’” 2 Cor. 12:8 & 9 (NAS) Did this comfort Paul or make it easier to deal with his affliction? Or was it just truth that Paul had to hold onto when he wanted to give up or give in? These were questions that my friend put to me as he tried to help me make sense of my own struggle. 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 seems to indicate it made it easier for Paul, but we only really know what the Word tells us. Personally, I think he must have clung to those words at times when there was nothing else to be done.
What I envy in Paul’s situation, is that God spoke to him directly . . . ”My grace is sufficient . . .” Except for the notion of actually being spoken to by God likely scaring me to literal death, I feel I could endure anything if He’d just say to me, ”My daughter, this is the way it has to be.” God said it. That settles it, right? As it is, I have found that I have an easier time of it if I just live as though He’s said so.
I had an epiphany in Bible class today. We were studying Luke 9:51-62 and how Jesus “resolutely set His face to go to Jerusalem” knowing full well what awaited Him there: betrayal, torture, a trial, and death. He was going to do what He was sent by the Father to do. Not only that, He was resolved to do it. “Unwavering adherence to one’s purpose” was one definition I found for resolve. It fit nicely with the lesson today because Jesus didn’t let anything deter this final journey to Jerusalem. Not the unwelcoming Samaritans, not the fact that He had no place to lay His head, not His family, not His simpler past before He began His ministry, and not the horrors He knew He would face at the end of the road. His purpose was to put an end to the enslaving power of sin once and for all, to die for His creation—you and me. The point? That if He could do all of that for us, should there be any concerns about what it will cost us to follow Him?
That’s when all these thoughts muddling around in my head went “click” into place. I was able to see, really see, how God’s grace has been sufficient for me, how it would always be. My friend had suggested that I adjust my prayers for healing to say, “God, take this cup from me, but if You choose not to, use it to Your glory.” I know that He has used it because of Barb, a Canadian woman I met through an online support group, who put on Christ this past summer. I never would have met Barb if not for this thorn. There are a lot of things in my life that would be completely different were it not for my struggle with depression. I would perhaps have had a lot less heartache, but I finally realize that I would be missing so much more. I don’t know that I would have ever come to the Open. I don’t know that I would have taken the road that led me to be a school teacher. I don’t know that my relationship with God would be what it is today. I don’t know that I would be so utterly certain of my own salvation, if not for this thorn. What I do know is that I can't imagine my life without these things and I would not trade them.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (NIV) I found my healing today. Not in actual terms, rather in my understanding. And I have found a new resolve: If Jesus can go through what He went through for my sake on the cross, I can live with depression for His sake and follow Him. My prayer is that He will in every circumstance be glorified through it. I will not be deterred by what others—family & friends—say or do. I will not waver because of inconvenience, discomfort, fear, or pain. I will not look back. I am resolved.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Why I Hate the Mall
I hate the mall because it is the road to hell . . . hell being financial ruin in this scenario. What I really hate are the kiosks that run down the middle of each concourse of the mall. I had a plan tonight, a single-minded plan to go in, get what I needed--some Love Shack body spray from the GAP and dinner at Chick-Fil-A--and get out. As a general practice for many years now, I don't make a lot of eye-contact with people. Why? I don't know, don't want to appear that I'm staring, don't want to see gorgeous men react to me staring, don't want to encourage scary men to approach me, don't want anyone to steal my soul . . . ? I've realized however that I could miss a lot of things if I don't look people in the eye: eye color, facial features, hair color, approximate height/weight of potential criminals. I would be useless as a witness to a crime because I don't look people in the face. So I've begun to make a point of looking people in the eye more here lately.
When in comes to being in the mall, this application flies out the window, especially where those people manning the kiosks are concerned. Let me be specific here, I'm talking about the foreigners. My fellow, native-born American citizens just sit and and wait for you to approach them. My fellow American immigrants view eye-contact as and invitation that they must RSVP at all costs. I walked out of GAP and she was standing at her kiosk, lotion locked, loaded, and ready to fire. Our eyes met and I was cornered. I let her lotion my hands, I let her buff my nail and soften a cuticle, and then firmly told her I wasn't interested. So she turned it up a notch, she let me smell all the fabulous scents the fabulous lotion came in. Then she whipped out the entire kit in the scent I liked best. I remained firm--I'm not spending $70 bucks on a mani/pedicure kit! She came down to $40, "just for you" and I told her she was Satan, but that I'd do it so she'd let me go. I gave her my credit card and before she ran it she looked at my face thoughtfully. Before I know it she has a q-tip and is dabbing this cold, cream-like gel under my left eye. She tells me about the eye gel, that it is made from natural ingredients, which she lists, but I can't really understand each one because of her accent. Then she shows me a magnified mirror and says, "Tell me if you notice difference." I look carefully and . . . are my? . . . holy moly! My laugh lines are smoother and less noticeable on my left eye than my right!!!
Now, I'm just completely undone. Totally sucker-punched and unable to walk away without that gel . . . HOW much? $120?!?!?!?? I said, "No way! There is just no way I can conscience spending that kind of money on eye gel!" I'm but a poor, country school teacher! She comes down $20 and offers to throw in the mani/pedi-kit "as gift for you." Yeah, still can't do that. She asked me which I wanted more, the eye gel or the kit. The eye gel, of course! She comes down to $75 for the gel & the kit is "my gift to you." I said, "You ARE the devil!" She plays mock shock really well, "I'm an angel!" She rings it all up and puts in a bag for me. I find out she's Israeli, not Russian as I had first guessed. She acts insulted, but seriously, in this town? You don't run into Israelis everyday. "Can I go now?" I ask, I really am defeated. "Yes," she says, "hug?" I hug her and get back on my path to Chick-Fil-A. As I am walking past the kiosk with the fabulous hair straighteners, the young foreign chap working that gig catches my eye . . . DANG IT!!! Stop looking people in the eye! "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks charmingly. I smile and tell him that I really have to keep going. He must be invisibly leashed to that booth because he only chased me so far down the concourse, gave me a disdainful glare for refusing him, and returned to his post to make eye contact with some other unwitting soul.
As I walk out with my dinner, intended and unintended purchases, I heave a great sigh. I sigh because I hate the mall and the fact that I didn't have the strength or enough appreciation for my laugh lines to say no. I also shake my head because it just underscores the fact that in some places, eye-contact is completely overrated.
When in comes to being in the mall, this application flies out the window, especially where those people manning the kiosks are concerned. Let me be specific here, I'm talking about the foreigners. My fellow, native-born American citizens just sit and and wait for you to approach them. My fellow American immigrants view eye-contact as and invitation that they must RSVP at all costs. I walked out of GAP and she was standing at her kiosk, lotion locked, loaded, and ready to fire. Our eyes met and I was cornered. I let her lotion my hands, I let her buff my nail and soften a cuticle, and then firmly told her I wasn't interested. So she turned it up a notch, she let me smell all the fabulous scents the fabulous lotion came in. Then she whipped out the entire kit in the scent I liked best. I remained firm--I'm not spending $70 bucks on a mani/pedicure kit! She came down to $40, "just for you" and I told her she was Satan, but that I'd do it so she'd let me go. I gave her my credit card and before she ran it she looked at my face thoughtfully. Before I know it she has a q-tip and is dabbing this cold, cream-like gel under my left eye. She tells me about the eye gel, that it is made from natural ingredients, which she lists, but I can't really understand each one because of her accent. Then she shows me a magnified mirror and says, "Tell me if you notice difference." I look carefully and . . . are my? . . . holy moly! My laugh lines are smoother and less noticeable on my left eye than my right!!!
Now, I'm just completely undone. Totally sucker-punched and unable to walk away without that gel . . . HOW much? $120?!?!?!?? I said, "No way! There is just no way I can conscience spending that kind of money on eye gel!" I'm but a poor, country school teacher! She comes down $20 and offers to throw in the mani/pedi-kit "as gift for you." Yeah, still can't do that. She asked me which I wanted more, the eye gel or the kit. The eye gel, of course! She comes down to $75 for the gel & the kit is "my gift to you." I said, "You ARE the devil!" She plays mock shock really well, "I'm an angel!" She rings it all up and puts in a bag for me. I find out she's Israeli, not Russian as I had first guessed. She acts insulted, but seriously, in this town? You don't run into Israelis everyday. "Can I go now?" I ask, I really am defeated. "Yes," she says, "hug?" I hug her and get back on my path to Chick-Fil-A. As I am walking past the kiosk with the fabulous hair straighteners, the young foreign chap working that gig catches my eye . . . DANG IT!!! Stop looking people in the eye! "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks charmingly. I smile and tell him that I really have to keep going. He must be invisibly leashed to that booth because he only chased me so far down the concourse, gave me a disdainful glare for refusing him, and returned to his post to make eye contact with some other unwitting soul.
As I walk out with my dinner, intended and unintended purchases, I heave a great sigh. I sigh because I hate the mall and the fact that I didn't have the strength or enough appreciation for my laugh lines to say no. I also shake my head because it just underscores the fact that in some places, eye-contact is completely overrated.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Brave in the Attempt
A few years ago before I became a Life Skills teacher, I went with the high school Life Skills class as a sponsor for the Special Olympics Summer Games. My friend Bonnie was the head coach and needed some extra help. If you've never attended a Special Olympics event, I highly recommend it. There is nothing like it. A couple of weeks ago, at Bonnie's behest, I volunteered to work part of the Special Olympics Bowling competition. I was feeling pretty low that day and had considered backing out, but I followed through and was so glad I did. It really lifted my spirits.
One of the things I love most about Special Olympics is the Athlete Oath: "Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt." One of the guys in the group I was overseeing had "Being brave in the attempt" on the back of his t-shirt. It is an amazing experience to watch people with disabilities give their all in athletic endeavors. They are so focused and determined and the joy on their faces when they achieve their goal . . . I find myself envying them. I see how much the athletes struggle just to roll a bowling ball. They don't care about what they look like, they just want to make the strike.
It humbles me.
I'm struggling with some things at the moment, primarily depression and sleep issues. Those things affect how I perceive my world, my life. I am frustrated over the things I've always longed for and don't have. I'm wrestling with my weight because the doctor told me I need to lose quite a bit by May. I'm weary of the thoughts in my head that keep assaulting what I know is the truth. I'm tired of being afraid and everything seeming so hard . . . and then I spend time with Special Olympic athletes.
No matter how hard I may have to fight in my own life, I will never have to fight as hard as they. Do they want to win every game they play? Maybe, but in being brave in the attempt they can be proud of themselves for not letting their struggles and limitations hold them back. I let everything hold me back. And then there is that oath, that oath that sounds more like a prayer: "Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt." Of all the words that I could use to describe myself, "brave" does not make the list.
I know that I cannot heal from things if I don't put in the work. I know that I will never have the things that I want if I never try. Perhaps I am not meant to be healed. Perhaps the things I want were never intended for me. Here is what I know: By the grace of God through the blood of Christ I have already won. But I still have to be here until He calls me home, so here is my prayer:
"Father, let me live--REALLY live as though I have already won.
But if I stumble while living, help me be brave in the attempt."
One of the things I love most about Special Olympics is the Athlete Oath: "Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt." One of the guys in the group I was overseeing had "Being brave in the attempt" on the back of his t-shirt. It is an amazing experience to watch people with disabilities give their all in athletic endeavors. They are so focused and determined and the joy on their faces when they achieve their goal . . . I find myself envying them. I see how much the athletes struggle just to roll a bowling ball. They don't care about what they look like, they just want to make the strike.
It humbles me.
I'm struggling with some things at the moment, primarily depression and sleep issues. Those things affect how I perceive my world, my life. I am frustrated over the things I've always longed for and don't have. I'm wrestling with my weight because the doctor told me I need to lose quite a bit by May. I'm weary of the thoughts in my head that keep assaulting what I know is the truth. I'm tired of being afraid and everything seeming so hard . . . and then I spend time with Special Olympic athletes.
No matter how hard I may have to fight in my own life, I will never have to fight as hard as they. Do they want to win every game they play? Maybe, but in being brave in the attempt they can be proud of themselves for not letting their struggles and limitations hold them back. I let everything hold me back. And then there is that oath, that oath that sounds more like a prayer: "Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt." Of all the words that I could use to describe myself, "brave" does not make the list.
I know that I cannot heal from things if I don't put in the work. I know that I will never have the things that I want if I never try. Perhaps I am not meant to be healed. Perhaps the things I want were never intended for me. Here is what I know: By the grace of God through the blood of Christ I have already won. But I still have to be here until He calls me home, so here is my prayer:
"Father, let me live--REALLY live as though I have already won.
But if I stumble while living, help me be brave in the attempt."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)