What's Your Caption?

As so many others, I have an account on facebook.  Today, a friend of mine posted a video, “Paradigm Shift”.  I was compelled to watch it because after another friend had apparently viewed it, she commented, “Wow”.  As I watched, I was touched, inspired, moved, convicted in my soul, among other responses.  I could not help but wonder about my own caption.  I wondered what my caption would say.  As I considered the issues that have been on my mind and weighing on my heart for the past several months, I concluded that my caption would likely read, “afraid to reach out”. 

It’s safe, you see, to share in this manner.  I’m on this side of the screen and you can’t see me, nor can I see you.  I can imagine anything I desire regarding the helpfulness of my posts or the type of responses of my readers.  Truthfully, though, there is not interaction this way.  What is missing here is the heart.  If I sat down with you and saw your eyes, would I ramble on to you as I do in these posts?  I have no idea about your needs!  This, at least at first, fulfilled my need – my need to share. 

I come to the realization that what I interpreted as my need to share is actually, my need to reach out.  That is difficult for me.  Talk about something out of my comfort zone!  But I really found motivation and inspiration in the video, so I have decided to share it with you.  Please do watch it!  My hope is that it will cause you to think about your own caption and what you may need to do to overcome it as well as looking at others and realizing that everyone has a caption.  I don’t suggest trying to ‘guess’ the captions of others, but getting a little closer and… well, reaching out, may help to reveal their caption… or actually, their need.

Paradigm Shift

Something's Shaking!

Let’s review: For several months I have been praying that God would move me out of my comfort zone, outside of myself, teach me and help me to live my faith out loud, so to speak.  Sunday, we had a class on prayer, the type of prayer we pray – striving to have the mentality of praying for rain and carrying an umbrella.  Monday was a Monday filled with more Monday than the typical Monday.  I attended an event at church – something outside my comfort zone.  But I enjoyed it – I was nervous and a little uncomfortable – still, I enjoyed it.  Today, I plan to attend another event there as well.  Today is eerily like yesterday.  There were a couple of stress-filled situations that happened before lunch – much like yesterday.   

Last night I tried to get into my home computer and discovered it would not come on.  I tried everything I could think of, including unplugging it for a while; all to no avail.  I tried again this morning and then went into overload mode – I must confess, I may be a little dramatic when I’m in overload mode.  I rocked in my chair, my face in my hands, asking myself over and over, “what am I going to do?  What am I going to do?” while attempting to fight off the emotion trying to flood from my eyes.  I got up from my chair to get ready for work and resolved to myself, “I am going to pray!  That’s what I’m going to do!”

As I was ironing my top, I prayed.  But then I noticed that I was praying a ‘white-knuckle’, ‘gritted teeth’ sort of prayer.  I stopped.  I made the deliberate decision to pray as though I was praying for rain and carrying an umbrella.  Now it was after this change in prayer that I experienced the uncomfortable, stress-filled situations at work.  I went home for lunch and shared all of these factors with my Daughter and Son-in-law.  I came to the conclusion that in the past, satan had been successful in stopping me in my tracks when he was able to elevate my stress level.  I would cut back on my usual activities, so forget about adding any new activities! 

My computer is in the shop, I still do not know the outcome.  I had to tell my current client that his show is on hold until I can get my computer woes resolved.  I still plan on attending the event tonight, even though I’ve been stressing about running out of gas before my next pay day.  I see these factors as both an attempt on satan’s part to stop me in my efforts to stretch and grow and live my faith outside myself and also as an opportunity to pray with the kind of faith of such characters as Daniel. 

It feels as though my world is shaking!  It feels a little intense to me.  Remember, I’m an introverted person; this sort of thing is very uncomfortable for me!  But I was also sharing all of this with my Sister, Barb, and she told me of a phrase that someone told her that made her feel better (I’ll have to paraphrase); The uncomfortable place that is outside your comfort zone today, will be inside your comfort zone tomorrow.  I look forward to that happening as I continue to move and grow! 

So Real

We were talking about prayer.  Though no one actually said this, we were discussing the mentality of praying for rain and carrying an umbrella.  We did talk about how those first Christians had prayed for Peter’s release from prison and then didn’t believe he was at the door.  We talked about how sometimes God will withhold doing even what He desires to do while waiting on us to ask Him.  Someone challenged us to explain why sometimes he doesn’t get what he prayed for, though it was something he needed, he had prayed fervently, it would benefit more than just him – playing the devil’s advocate until someone finally stated that it was not God’s will to answer that prayer affirmatively. 

But what really touched me, moved me, inspired me; what I truly recognized as so real was when one shared how he had prayed for the life of his son.  His son died.  Yet he could go to The One Who had lost His Son for our sake.  We are never alone, we have One Who does understand and is full of compassion for us. 

This is real.  What he shared, not just his prayer, but his faith when the prayer wasn’t answered the way his heart so desperately desired.  Even such faith is a gift from God.

I believe that the more we use the faith He gives us, the more faith He gives us to use to honor and glorify Him.  I say this because I look back at my own time of relying on His gift of faith when faced with an answer to prayer that was not as I so desperately desired.  I had prayed for my marriage to be saved – believing that it would be because I knew that God hated divorce.  I had to struggle with what I believed about God answering prayers during and after my divorce.  I had been so confident that He would save my marriage that I refused to file for divorce, even though I had the scriptural grounds to file.  I was unrepresented at the proceedings.  I didn’t even attend the proceedings.  Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I showed up and contested the divorce.  I’m getting away from my point, however, so to refocus – I can see how much my faith has grown since I questioned and worried about why He didn’t answer my prayer the way I was confident that He would.  It’s been a long process for me to get from there to where I am today – and I hope to not stay where I am today!  How we pray reveals the depth of our faith and also can increase our faith.  Not the act of praying, but rather His responses to our prayers and then in turn, our responses to His answers. 

I believe that we should share these experiences with one another because you never know just how or who you may touch with your personal experience with God’s response to your prayers.  I believe that this is what people need to hear.  And as I saw the tears glistening in his eyes as he shared this glimpse into his personal prayer life and faith, I thought how people need to see something so real in us as we relate our stories to inspire them.   This is real. 

Never Alone

Sometimes it’s so quiet in my soul; it seems I am all alone.  Sometimes it’s so still in my spirit; I yearn for it to stir within me.  Sometimes it feels my ears are straining so hard to hear His whisper that I can hear them struggle for the sound. 

There was a time when I would experience this that I felt panicked, wondering why it seemed that He had disappeared.  I would review the days or weeks during which it felt that He was gone to see if I had done anything that would have offended or angered Him, to make Him distance Himself from me.  This time, I cannot pinpoint the beginning of the silence, but I suspect it’s been a couple of weeks, maybe more.  I’m not concerned, however.  I see this as a time to reflect on all that He’s done for me.  I see this as a time to search Him out in His Word (not difficult, as His Word is all about Him) and seek out a new or a deeper truth that I may learn more about Him.  No need to panic.  He has promised that He will never leave us or forsake us.  By now, I have heard, seen, and experienced enough to truly believe that His promises are true.  He is faithful.  His presence in my life is not contingent on me ‘feeling’ His presence.  I know He’s there.  This gives me peace, assurance, and joy.

What If

Today I stand on the precipice, wondering what’s next.  I feel as though I am on the precipice of change.  I have prayed for change for several months.  I have asked God to take me outside myself.  I have asked for a heart like His, that I may have compassion for others, a generous, giving heart full of grace and love and mercy.  I want so much to learn to live outside myself!  At the same time, I find it rather scary.  All of the usual ‘what-ifs’ plague my thoughts!  What if people don’t have a favorable response?  What if I fall flat on my face?  What if I make a mistake that costs someone heartache?  What if someone frowns at me?  All the ‘what-ifs’ direct me inward again; or, at least these ‘what-ifs’ do.

So, what if I change the ‘what-ifs’?  What if I refocus them?  Instead of, “what if people don’t have a favorable response” – what if they like what I do?  Instead of, “what if I fall flat on my face” – what if I am successful at my endeavors?  Instead of, “what if I make a mistake…” – what if I do it right?  Instead of, “what if someone frowns at me” – what if they smile?  Or what about this ‘what-if’ – What if I ignore all of the ‘what-ifs’ and just trust Him to give me the courage and the ability to do what ever He chooses to call me to do?  Maybe it’s like Peter walking on the water – as long as I stay focused on Him and looking at Him; I don’t have to worry about any of the ‘what-ifs’.  Once I look down or at myself, however, I risk the entire negative set of ‘what-ifs’ and then some, coming true.  Maybe I need to refocus my attention away from any and all 'what-ifs' because even the positive 'what-ifs' are still self-focused. 

I don’t know what He’s going to do with this introverted person or how.  But I trust it will be like a poster I’ve seen; “God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called”. 

Call me, Oh Lord, and qualify me to Your calling!

Through His Eyes

Did you forget Me yesterday?  Each day I make the sun to rise and set on you.  Each night the moon and the stars are envious of you because in My eyes, their splendor cannot compare to yours.  I cannot help but touch your cheek, your hair with My breeze.  I whisper beauty into your life with an array of flowers and charm you with the songs of My birds.  When you are sad, I sit by you with My arms around you – do you not feel Me?  I sing and rejoice over you when you celebrate your accomplishments.  

I love to hear you pray to Me, I listen with rapt attention and am moved by the love in your heart and your compassion for others.  My Spirit moves to calm you when your heart lacks love and compassion for others.  I collect the tears that fill your eyes, whether sorrow, joy, or just overwhelmed with love.  When you sleep I watch your dreams and listen to your heart, for it speaks those things you may forget to say through out your day.  When you remember Me and sing to Me, My heart is overjoyed!  All of this and so much more I do for you each day, just to let you know how much I love you.  I miss you when you forget Me.  Please don’t forget Me today.

Mama's Legacy

Today my Mama is on my mind more than usual.  We would have loved to have celebrated her 79^th birthday with her today.  The last time I saw my Mama, I was three – since my birthday is so close to the end of the year, I had not yet turned four years old. 

I was raised by another woman – no relation.  She was unable to have children of her own.  She acquired a red-headed, freckle-faced boy from Ohio.  Later, she… acquired me from Alaska.  The things I witnessed this woman do to that red-headed boy… it was a blessing that she was unable to bear children – she had no business raising children.  Eddie, the red-headed, freckle-faced boy left – he ran away.  Then it was my turn, and eventually, I ran away as well and continued doing so until the state made me a ward.

I bounced around from foster family to foster family until I eventually was placed in a faith-based children’s home where I finished high school (or nearly, I actually left the home before graduation day, but still stayed in the area and graduated).  I moved to central Texas where I met and married my husband – with whom I stayed happily married until my past caught up with me in the form of a depression (I wrote on this in my post “Something More”).  While in the throes of that depression, I attempted to reason my way out and sought counseling as a desperate attempt to escape.  One counselor began telling me how I had the characteristics of an adult child of an alcoholic.  He gave me a book to read between sessions.  I took the book home and began reading that very day.  I only made it as far as the second page.  I angrily tossed the book and seriously considered burning it in our trash barrel (we were dairy-farmers and burned our trash rather than hauling it approximately 20 miles to the landfill).  Instead, I returned the book the following week and told my counselor that I refused to read the book.  When he asked why, I explained that I would not blame my mother for the choices she made that launched in motion the chain of events that led me to where I was that day. 

Despite my objections, my thoughts occasionally dwelled on the point the counselor and the book attempted to make to me.  My mother’s choices, my mother’s alcoholism that took her at such a young age – she was 37 when she died a horrible death from alcohol poisoning.  I was 11 at the time, just three months till my 12^th birthday.  But, I was completely unaware of what she was going through or that she was dying.  I was being raised by another alcoholic in another state (it was still two years away from the parade of foster homes and then the children’s home). 

When I found my biological family in 1980, I learned details of my mother’s life that explained a number of the choices she made and what led up to her alcoholism.  I mourned for her and her sad life, her apparent sense of hopelessness, and helplessness.  I grieved that she had found nothing or no one to cling to that offered her peace or hope.  It wasn’t until after my divorce that I first felt anger and resentment towards her – not because of the resulting life I led but because she didn’t believe, because she didn’t find the hope to keep her going until all of her children looked for her; because we all did look for her and found her grave.  I needed her.  Her grave did not suffice.  

Years passed, including the year that saw me attending the four sessions with the young Christian counselor in Dallas who was the catalyst that launched me on my journey to healing.  As my thoughts returned again and again to my Mama, I found myself asking, what do I still need from her?  Why do I yet sense that I am still looking, waiting, hoping to get something from her?  I heard a preacher ask what we wanted to leave as our legacy to our children.  Instead of thinking of my own legacy to my children, I immediately thought about my mother’s legacy to me; to her children.  The world sees the events I just shared with you as my Mama’s legacy.   It’s been 18 years since I sat in the young Christian counselor’s office for the fourth and final time.  The journey has been long, sometimes slow, sometimes arduous, sometimes quite exciting, even exhilarating!  One of the many things I learned sometime during the past 18 years is my Mama’s legacy.  I know what she left behind for me.  Precious memories; scant, but memories that continue to reveal her to me.

I’ll share one now that, when I first dwelt on it, revealed her love to me. 

Remember, I had to have been younger than three – or at the most three years old.  There were a number of children at our house, playing in the back yard.  We were each given a bowl of strawberries.  One boy, who knew I had a fascination with magic, told me that he could turn strawberries into onions.  The trick had to be accomplished with the aid of the refrigerator and without my supervision.  I went off to play after placing my precious bowl of strawberries on a shelf in the fridge and left the boy and the appliance to work their magic.  As supper time neared and hunger gnawed at my tummy, I remembered my delicious bowl of strawberries.  I dashed into the kitchen and peered into the fridge – sure enough, there in my bowl was a nice pile of chopped onions.  I was absolutely impressed and delighted – until I told him to change them back and I was informed that onions could not turn into strawberries.

Now, at this age, I was exceptionally accomplished at sulking!  So, I sat on the back step and sulked.  My Mama saw me sulking and inquired about my refusal to play and have a good time with the others.  I explained the horrendous plot that robbed me of my strawberries, and if possible, stuck my lower lip out even farther.  She sat beside me for a moment, I sensed, feeling my pain.  She looked around and spied a green pop bottle sitting in a wooden crate in the corner.  She instructed me to retrieve the green bottle for her and made a show of secretly taking the empty bottle into the kitchen.  Of course, I had to follow her to see what she was doing with the green bottle.  I watched with rapt attention and curiosity as she filled the bottle with water, placed her thumb over the opening and shook it vigorously.  Then she showed me the little bubbles and how it truly appeared that there was soda pop in the bottle.  As though telling me a grand secret, she enthusiastically told me how to sit and watch the other children playing and at just the right time, shake it and appear to drink it.  I had no experience pulling off this type of deception, so it didn’t last long for me; but it lasted long enough to cause all the others to crowd around and I had their undivided attention for several seconds.  How pleased I felt when my Mama came out to sit with me, placing her arm around me while I held my green bottle of water and watched the others continue playing.  As we sat there watching, we shared a bond as partners in deception and all felt right with the world. 

I have more jewels that I may share as the opportunity arises.  But this one will serve the purpose intended for this post.  I stated that when I first began dwelling on this event, it revealed her love to me.  I still see her love in this story.  In addition, I see patience.  I see gentleness.  I see compassion and understanding.  I see her playfulness.  I see her ingenuity.  One memory such as this can reveal so much about a person.  This one certainly has for me!  These little glimpses of her scattered in my earliest memories reveal who she truly was in the depths of her core.  That is her true legacy!  That is what I celebrate, today, on her 79^th birthday!

Positive Disappointment

Something positive can come even from disappointments.  Case and point: I didn’t make it to Wednesday night Bible study last night.  I had looked forward to it all day, prior to Wednesday, even.  But when the time came, I gave in to my extreme tiredness and some physical discomfort I was experiencing.  I ended up going to bed early last night.

Only to awaken this morning and feel a strong sense of disappointment that I didn’t make it to class last night.  Through my morning routine, my mind continued to focus on my disappointment.  Finally, my morning routine was complete and I sat in my chair, ready for work, sipping my coffee and thinking about how disappointed I felt.  Suddenly, it struck me!  I was indeed disappointed about not attending last night, but not because I felt a sense of obligation or concern that someone would put a black mark by my name in a log somewhere.  I was disappointed because I have grown to love and care for those with whom I worship and study.  I truly wanted to see them and be with them as we studied more of God’s Word.  I wasn’t there.  The disappointment I felt was from a different perspective than I had experienced before; this can only mean that I am growing!  This must be evidence of God at work in my life, in my heart, answering my prayers to teach me to love as He loves.  While I do still feel disappointed about my absence, I am pleased with what it demonstrates to me.  It is encouraging and a relief to know that God is busy in my heart, transforming me into the likeness of my Savior, His Son. 

So, maybe not all disappointments are indicative of a failure but can possibly serve as evidence of something wonderful going on in your heart!

This is Peace

This is peace.  This is contentment.  This… this is life at its best!  There’s nothing like the very first sip of coffee in the morning.  I have two of the Granddaughters and their Nana has a Granddaughter and the Grandson while their parents are enjoying an out of town outing.  The girls are watching their Saturday morning programs in the other room.  Gigi’s kittens are sleeping peacefully while Gigi bathes in the middle of the living room floor after her breakfast.  Mogli has already gone outside.

I have finished reading my Heartlight subscriptions filling my first thoughts of the day of God and His daily gifts and blessings.  Fall photos are on my screensaver, the scenes whispering to my spirit of the changing seasons.  For the moment, I’m not thinking about chores or all of the busy things that will happen as the day progresses.  This is a rare moment of peace, quiet, contentment, unencumbered by planning, or schedules.  Soon the washer will rumble in the background, the sound drowned out by the hustle and bustle of life in the rest of the house.  Soon chores will be assigned, initiating the daily melody of complaints and noise will over take the calm of the house as those chores are accomplished. 

But for now, for this moment, the aroma of coffee fills me as its warmth radiates from my core.  Quietness claims my mind and peace embraces my heart.