What Love Looks Like

I have some friends starting new marriages, and new relationships. It makes me happy to watch them, they gaze adoringly into each others eyes, laugh at their own private jokes, and when they are apart, the other is all they talk about.  This side of love is the most familiar to me, it's what people would commonly recognize as "love", and to be honest, sometimes I miss it. In conversation with these friends, it has come up now and then, that they are worried for what things will be like in their relationship when this "phase" is going to end, as it inevitably will, if their relationship is growing. 

I don't really remember when that changed in my relationship with my husband, it was small, and over time, so there was no cause to mourn its passing. However, it has left me with other questions, and those are, what then, does love look like? How do I still show him that I love him? Do I miss "love" when it comes from him, because it looks different than it once did? How can I be sure I haven't sunk into apathy, taking everything for granted, longing for something that I've long grown out of?

Well, recently I've been challenged to focus on the positives of my relationship, rather than on the negatives.  Hearing that is surprising. I thought, that won't be hard. In fact, I assumed that was the habit I had created over our marriage, but after a couple of weeks of trying, I realized that in fact the opposite was true. I had been focused only on the "have-nots" and the "I wants" of our relationship. It had brought us into some pretty destructive arguments, with the two of us walking away from each other wondering how on earth we had ever been in the "Romance" phase of love at all. There were days when I actually wondered how two complete opposites had ended up together, coupled with the terrifying adage "we made a mistake", and I knew our marriage was headed to the dark places that no one in the light of romance ever wants to go.

It was at this critical moment when I received the advice, that I needed to focus on the positives about my husband, rather than the negatives.  Basic - yes, life changing - incredibly. It was easy to recognize that my husband isn't perfect and harder to know that he can't necessarily fill all of the "have-nots" I have so dutifully laid out for him, and even harder to recognize that I was equally as imperfect as him, and I was not filling all of his "have-nots" and I might never be able to do that.  It was at that point, that Love started to look differently for us. It started to be things like cleaning the kitchen together after a meal, to talk and spend a bit of time reconnecting, and deeply appreciating little things, his smile and easy manner with our kids, and how he cares about me before himself - I was awake most of last night, and this morning, he quietly got up, made arrangements with work, and brought our son to school without disturbing me. 

I'm not saying we're perfect, we're certainly a long way from there, but when love starts to look differently to you, remember to focus on the positive, at least it's a place to start.

"God Bless Us, Every one!" - A Christmas Carol

We had this family tradition growing up, where we would watch all of the best old Christmas movies as the snow, reflected in the light of the oversize Christmas bulbs, piled up outside.  Though it first appeared in a grainy black and white, and then later as told by Muppets, A Christmas Carol has always been one of my favorites.

Ok, so I know that this is an iconic book that has been since turned into movies and plays, but it made literature accessible to me, even as a small child, and it was then I grew to love it.  Not to mention the fact that it is absolutely filled with all of those hidden gems that have the power to make people find the truth about themselves and the season.

If I could work my will...Every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled with his own turkey, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart! (Scrooge)

I always laugh at this line. Maybe it's just me, but when I think about attempting to pack up the kids, and hit the overcrowded, stuffy malls, to be assaulted with seventeen versions of tinny Christmas tunes, to wait in horrendously long lines only to over pay for some trinket that will be broken or lost within the year, and that will likely be 50% off on Boxing Day makes me think that this statement isn't too far off.  But, maybe that's where this play makes it's mark. We lose the spirit of Christmas putting pressure on ourselves, and our charity for the rest of mankind tends to go right out the window.  People in a store suddenly aren't people, but obstacles, and it's easy to begrudge anyone who is smiling.

Scrooge: What business has brought you here?

Spirit: Your welfare.

Scrooge: A night's unbroken rest, might aid my welfare.

Spirit: Your salvation then.

I've always liked this one too, though I can't confirm if it was in the  book, play or appeared only in the Muppet movie version, but this exchange stands out to me.  Maybe because it sounds like me. Leave me alone, let me be, I just need some sleep.  It's hard to recognize when you need to change, to take a deep look at yourself and pull out those things from the past, and present that are choking out your future.  As someone in the midst of change, it's not easy, or comfortable, and it hurts.  Lately, I've had to look at myself, and admit that I'm not right all the time, or justified in my actions.  That I treat people badly, especially people who are close to me.  Yet, I'm not past all hope. Sometimes change comes into your life as a force for good, for salvation it seems.    

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor. - Charles Dickens

The message of this story, to live our lives in love and kindness, in the Spirit of Christmas each and every day of the year, to set aside selfishness, and ignorance of the plight of others, and to love one another is profound.  I find it useful as a yearly reminder, that all of the blessings of this life come most importantly through the way we love other people. It's a standard I keep setting for myself.  A goal that no matter what comes my way, I will treat the people around me with dignity and kindness.  That I will never walk by someone who needs me, and believe that in some small way I can make a difference for other people. 

I wish I could touch on every bit of this story that has made an impact on me, but if I did, this post would end up far too long. So, I'll leave you with the last, and the very best.

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it through the year. I will live in the Past, the Present and the Future. The Spirits of all three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.

Dedicated to all of those wonderful actors who bring this story to light as Edmonton's tradition, each year at the Citadel Theatre.

Paper Snowflakes

In an effort to make some sense of being a "For-the-moment-stay-at-home-Mom," I devised a bit of a schedule in order to keep me on track, give me a sense of the job that I am doing, and give me purpose during the day.  With M off to school, and O blossoming with bucketfuls of two-year old charm and charisma one scheduled activity that seemed to be of significant importance for all of us was the short hour after dinner poorly designated "family time". 

It's a time of night that I try to come up with a simple activity that we can all do together as a family. Being that winter is indeed here, in Edmonton, and the fact that my precious M needs to build some fine motor skills through scissor use, I thought - why not snowflakes? Knowing that Miss O would likely make significant improvements to both her clothes and her hair, if granted the opportunity to wield scissors, I decided that she and I would run the glue-n'-glitter department. 

The cutting commenced, and in a blizzard of tiny bits of paper, drifts of glue, and showers of glitter about twenty unique creations emerged to be hung in the place of honor, our front window.  As each one was cut, I was struck again by the intricate uniqueness and subsequent beauty of each piece.  Not only that, it was lots of fun to watch M's amazement as to him, he made seemingly random cuts, and when each snowflake opened it was different from the last.  It reminded me about something, that every now and then I forget as a Mom.  I feel like I have it all figured out, that I have my kids pegged, and ultimately I hit a situation I didn't see coming, and I find myself up against the curve ball called "parenting".  What works with one, should theoretically work with the other, shouldn't it? But, it doesn't .

I think I've finally learned that being a parent doesn't exist as a formulaic response, instead my children, and even me are reflected within the uniqueness of the snowflake. Each of us unique and beautiful, and we each require a unique response to the delicate situations that arise in our lives. When we come together, our own strengths compliment each other. There have been countless times, as parents, when one of us, either Brad, or myself finally reach the very end of our rope in dealing with the kids, and as seamlessly as if the other is not even affected, we tag team each other and the other steps in with some kind of other-worldly wisdom, and a problem with the kids comes to a solution.

Just after we were finished breathing in the uniqueness of one another with our snowflakes, Brad and I faced that very situation with M. He has fought us on an issue since he was three years old, the battles were becoming more frequent, and we were in danger of losing the war.  No, not the war as in, the fight, but instead the war that all parents fight to keep the values of family, the cohesiveness of uniqueness working together. When our individual strength was depleted and Brad and I were able to use our own strengths to support one another, to calm down and work with our bright, interesting, little boy, to bring about a new focus on Shalom. But, it required all three of us, a recognition of our created uniqueness, to bring an answer about.  In fact, Brad answered M's questions by showing him the picture below. He found it, when I never could have - and the problem we'd faced as a family, as battle after battle, became something much more simple.
To you, remember your own uniqueness.  Take time to recognize it in others - especially for those who are closest to you.  I think now, that sometimes in recognizing who we are created to be, it helps us get through the little battles that we are presented with daily. 

God Bless You.

Parachute Packing and Other Odd Jobs

I thought of this post this past week, when I was in between a job interview - and finding out that the job went to someone else. I was thinking it would work well with the theme of what I was hoping to be my new job, but it didn't quite turn out that way. 

When I was young, my Dad introduced us to the story of Captain Charlie Plumb. He was a fighter pilot on the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk, and his plane was shot down over Vietnam where he remained a prisoner of war for several years.  He was released and eventually returned to the United States, where one evening several years later he had a conversation with a man, a sailor, also stationed on the Kitty Hawk and worked aboard as a parachute packer - incidentally he had packed Captain Plumb's parachute, which had saved the pilot's life.  Captain Charlie Plumb is now a motivational speaker with a strong message that he uses to impact people's lives.

This concept has been floating around in my head as I try to follow God's leading toward new employment.  Metaphorically, the parachute packer is someone who works behind the scenes, someone who is diligent in the tasks that they have been given in order to see others well protected, and advance in their own lives.  I equated getting this new job to be something like that, I would be a parachute packer for university students wanting to become teachers.  But, hearing that another person has been chosen for the job, gave me pause.  What am I supposed to do now? Then it occurred to me, that this blog post idea is still ideal, no matter if I had this new job, or not.

I'm not famous, nor do I desire to be. I've always been comfortable working in the background. I think it's part of the reason I became a teacher.  I like the background work and preparation, thinking about the lessons I plan in order to impact students lives.  Interestingly the place that I am in right now lends itself very well to parachute packing, working behind the scenes to build others up, to speak into their lives and offer love, help and support wherever I can. For my kids, it means being the Mom that they need for right now.  These things that I consider to be so little, and of no great importance are instead the critical things that matter the most, or will matter the most one day. The first thing you want to know after you jump out of a burning plane, is that your parachute will open, no matter what.  

So, it's a question I've been asking myself lately...who's parachute are you packing?

Found Waiting

Is there anything in the world worse than waiting? I know it can be annoying to have to stand in line while the woman in front of you counts out $67. 83 in quarters, or to be stuck in traffic beside the people, who just like you saw the construction signs miles away, and think that it's your obligation to hold up the cars behind you to allow them space, but I mean the waiting for those things that never seem like they are ever going to come.  That is precisely the place I've found myself in for the last 110 days (but who's counting?). 

I've found myself in every imaginable emotion for someone who feels like they've lost control of their carefully constructed little world. I've felt anger - at myself, and at times at others who I could blame for putting me in this situation, even at God for seeming to be so absent and relatively obtuse, sadness and loss, desperation, failure, anxiety, and fear - about just about anything, sometimes as simple as leaving the house, and other times fear that everything I said I believed, like God has a plan, was a lie.  The one thing I have been truly blessed with, is people who care, and people who will sit with me for hours as we talk this through, full of encouragement and promise - but there were times when I would sit and listen and think - I'm not getting the good side of this. They don't really understand.

Just recently I started watching a DVD Bible Study Series that was purchased for me months ago. It's called It's Tough Being a Woman, and is a Bible Study with a woman named Beth Moore.  The first session I watched, I had high hopes for the series, I wanted it to be all about a pity party for me, telling me lovely platitudes like, Oh honey, I know you have it so hard, but one day you're going to wake up and be famous, loved by all, and you'll never have to go through anything hard ever again - because God is very sorry that your life didn't turn out the way you wanted it, or something like that.  Not surprisingly, this was not at all what it has been about, especially not for me. This series explores the book of Esther in the Bible, and goes into depth discussing this book.  I can't go into it all, or this post would be way too long, but, it has been a blessing to me.  

For a long time, I've felt like I can't talk to God, or hear from God, and the reason is, I don't want to hear what he has to say, afraid of what he has to say.  Today, while listening to Beth Moore speak, I felt God speaking to me and he was talking about waiting.  I don't like to wait, and frankly, I'm afraid of having to wait.  Instead, when things are all in control, and in my own hands, then I don't have to wait for anything and life can carry on the way I like it.  He brought up the fact that I don't like waiting so much, that I put it off, for YEARS, and stayed at a job because I was afraid to have to wait on him, and believe that he would provide me another job. I think I was always afraid, that if I waited for him, that he might never turn up. So, today in Bible Study, Beth Moore was talking about waiting, and she said something that so felt like God was talking to me, that I couldn't help but share it.

Isaiah 41: 30 says: 

But those who hope (wait)in the Lord  will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.

To be totally honest, I've heard that verse a lot. I have had no clue at all what it actually means.  It always seemed to me, that if I wait on the Lord, I might just be waiting a good long time, and the opportunities would all pass me by.  But, Beth Moore said something so interesting, so profound that it shook me from the toes up.  She said (paraphrasing), People don't wait on the Lord, they wait on an EVENT.  We spend so much of our time putting faith into an event happening, like for example, getting a new job, that we end up depleting our strength.  This hit me right between the eyes. I'm not waiting on the Lord, I'm waiting on a new job, as if that will be the answer to all of my issues, we'll have enough money again, I can be proud of the fact that I have a job, I can feel a purpose in life, whatever it is I believe in the event, instead of in my savior.  It occurred to me, how much better waiting on the Lord is.  This concept, is echoed so beautifully in another passage that my Mom sent to me just this week.

Psalm 37: 4-5 which says: 

Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires and secret petitions of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord – roll and repose (each care of) your load on Him; trust (lean on, rely on and be confident) also in Him and He will bring it to pass.

 

Again, I never really knew what this was about. I didn't understand how I could delight myself in the Lord, without him thinking I was just doing it to get something out of it.  But, it makes so much sense, that if I can wait (hope) in the Lord, then he already knows that I need a new job, and he is already working to bring that about.  As I wait on him, and put my hope in him, then I am refreshed, renewed and I can handle the challenges that await me when I do get a new job.  If I am waiting on him, I don't have to stress over why a prospective employer hasn't called me.  But, when I am waiting for the JOB, then I am already spent and drained by the time I get to the job. So, then what is waiting on the Lord? Delighting in the Lord? I think that it's sitting with him, talking to him and listening to what he has to say.  Not being afraid of what he has to say - as I have been for so long.  Changing my focus, means trusting God fully, and not just trusting him for a thing, but trusting him because he loves me.

 

I don't know, maybe this is like Christian 101 for everyone else, but knowing that I have been putting my trust in an event, rather than in God frees me to know that instead I can trust in God, that I can rest in him, and wait in him. It doesn't matter what job comes along, because one will, it only matters that I wait in the Lord, because he has what's best for me, for all of us. For the first time in 110 days, I know that I am free.  

 

 

So, You Had A Bad Day...

It really hasn't happened to me that often, when I stop, take a look around and wonder, I think my luck has turned...and by that I mean, turned, like the sour cream does in our fridge sometimes. You know, when it fizzes, and hidden deep in in the layers are land mines of green-blue, fuzzy mold, threatening to destroy the very fabric of your carefully laid nachos.  Lately, that seems to be the way things have gone. 

It started with me missing a phone call that my son was throwing up at school, and was quickly followed by an all night puke-a-thon, a (still) missing orange Tabby, frustration that the people looking for employees, don't seem to be as "on the ball" as I would like, a call for a toilet plunger, a near death experience that included a hot cast iron frying pan, and two steaks "getting air", as it were, across the kitchen, and culminating in that shining moment when the red and blue lights of a police car lit up the night behind me, resulting in a significant fine for what I would consider to be a "lucky" catch by our brave EPS Officers.  (To all of my non-criminal reader friends, make sure you have the CORRECT insurance card in your vehicle, a pile that are out-of-date really don't actually count).  

I know, compared to poverty and world hunger, what really am I complaining about? And the obvious answer to that is, nothing. Though, that really doesn't negate the fact, that everyone has a bad day, (or series of days) every now and then.  I know that sometimes people look at it as a punishment, God, what did I ever do to you? but I don't see it that way.  I believe that God has a lot more love, and overall, things to do, than make my life miserable just for the sake of making it miserable.  Is it a challenge? A test? Maybe, and I wish I could say I definitely passed with flying colors, but how can it be considered a test, when the problem is of my own making? I turned my phone down - that's why I didn't hear it, I neglected to take the insurance card out to the van for weeks, so - my fault. 

What if, it's count your blessings. It occurred to me, that just might be it. Maybe it's just easier to recognize the things that go wrong, instead of the things that go right. Those were harder to come by, but slowly as I thought them through, I could find them. When M was sick at school, he recovered very quickly, and we had several dear friends check in on him. Even though I got my ticket on Thursday night, it was book club night, and what a beautiful conversation we had together.  Speaking of that same ticket, the Officer told me that when one can't present proof of their insurance, it's an automatic court date - but, she waived it for me, and I only had to pay a fine. The flying frying pan's only casualty was two upside down steaks on the floor, and as far as looking for a job goes, I've had such wonderful days with my kids, and opportunities to look into different jobs that might be for me, this respite has been a blessing.  

This is "getting through, the going through", it's about knowing that God hasn't forgotten about you, even when things go wrong.  



  

Never. Never. Never Give Up

I haven't written in a while.  I think that could be because I don't want to beat over and over on the same drum that sounds like job, job, job.  During this time I have been reminded over and over how blessed I am, I've had precious moments with my children that I have cherished, coveted, and celebrated with so much pleasure that I want it to last forever, but know it's a season.  Of course I'm torn in two, between being just a Mama, and having such a strong desire to teach, between parenting and paying bills.  Several times I've lamented my inability to see the future, asked God that I would be able to, but so far he seems to instead be giving me opportunity to be content.  To actively be content means believing that I am where God wants me to be and that I don't want to rush ahead.  It's just in those really quiet moments where doubt sneaks in, and I feel like giving up.  But, the moment passes, and I think...

Never. Never. Never Give Up

I don't know what you it is you are dreaming about, hoping for, wanting. Now, I don't think that things we want just materialize themselves if we sit around and want long enough, I know that we have to participate in working to bring things about, but don't give up on your dreams - the simple, or even the complex.  

I was putting together a poem anthology for a grade 12 class I was in, and my Dad mentioned that this was his favorite poem.  It's gritty, and real to me, and reflects small moments in my life, when I need to remember where I've come from, and where I'm going.  

THE QUITTER - Robert William Service

When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow . . .
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.

"You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know -- but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.

It's easy to cry that you're beaten -- and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight --
Why, that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try -- it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.