God Talks

I don't know how God talks to other people. I only know how he talks to me. Now, of course, imagining how God might talk to me, always sounds one way in my head - for example: 

Me: GOD!
God: It's so nice to hear from you, what can I do for you, my dear?
Me: GOD! Did you see that driver? The one in the blue car? They cut me off! 
God: I did see that! The nerve. It's a good thing I created you to be a perfect driver, make sure as you swerve around them and cut them off, then flip them off. It's ok - just this once - after all, as God, I give you permission to take down  that complete moron driver, confront him! Don't let him think that you are going to be pushed around on these crazy roadways!

In reality, it usually sounds something more like this. 

Me: GOD!
God: Yes? It's nice to talk to you today.
Me: Did you see that driver? The one in the blue car? They cut me off!!
God: I know, and I made you aware of them, you avoided them, you and your family are safe. 
Me: But did you see that? I hate people who drive like idiots!
God: Do you remember driving to your sister's last week?
Me: Yes...
God: You cut off a man in a truck. Actually worse than what happened to you today. 
Me: But the baby was screaming, and I was distracted...
God: I know, I kept him safe on that day from you.  Drive carefully. 

Ok, at this point you either think I am totally off my nut - or you have experienced these kinds of talks with God too. If you happen to think I am off my nut, that's ok - I'd be happy to listen to, and talk to you about my relationship with Jesus.  If you also have had these talks - then you know what I mean. 

Lately, though I've run into situations with individuals who think that they have been specifically given a WORD FROM GOD to go and knock (usually) someone who has offended them, over the head with what GOD has to say - and feel completely justified doing it, after all God told them too. 

So, here's the thing.  We, as Christians, are supposed to be doing things like "going into all the world" and sharing with others our personal relationship with Jesus. Instead we have taken it upon ourselves to hold onto offenses and then beat the holy snot out of these people who have offended us, by using God as an excuse to do the beating. Have we all gone out of our minds?  I was listening to a challenging sermon lately that rang true with me. The pastor was talking about loving our enemies. He pointed out, that our enemies were NEVER found within the four walls of our church. NEVER. We have a mandate to love and forgive every person who claims the title "Christian". The instruction to love our enemies was intended to be focused outward on a hurting world that doesn't know the peace that comes from a relationship with Christ. 

Honestly, hearing some recent stories of Christians full on attacking other Christians, makes me question my own desire to be a Christian.  I can only imagine the impact it has on people who are watching Christians - and these are the people who NEED to be loved for Christ.  Yet, we spend our time blasting one another.

Now, I'm not saying it's easy, and the hurts that some people bear can seem overwhelming and insurmountable.  All of us Christians aren't perfect, we're on a walk, and sometimes that walk takes a lifetime, but I am starting to think that forgiveness is the key.  Oh man - and it's HARD. When I have to forgive someone, at first it is like I want to rage and scream and tell the world how it's so unfair, but when I finally really do forgive...it gets a bit easier. So far, in this experiment I call life, I've noticed two things - not only does it get easier to forgive, but my litmus test for forgiving is that somehow I am able to forget. After a while, I will think of a person who offended me, and if I literally have a difficult time remembering what exactly they have done to offend me, then I know I must have forgiven them.

It's not usually up to us, people, to go tell other Christians where they have gone off the rails.  God will tell them, and in the mean time, I can love them and pray for them - and often I will find something in me that makes me either ask for forgiveness, or pray to forgive. 

Life really is better out here.  More joyful, more peaceful, more exciting, more challenging, in a place where love and forgiveness walk hand in hand.  

 
 
 

Bred Different...

Every now and then, I stop, look around and take stock of things impacting my life...

- The expectation that I should be a certain kind of wife and mother
- The complacency to allow my children to be raised by and overrun by a defective society that would ultimately shape their future
- The assumption that I should be able to have any material thing that I want
- The presumption that I should be able to have and dictate Christianity on my own terms


I could shrink back in fear, be overwhelmed and ultimately say -  "Well what can I really do?" Give up and that's it. But, as I was considering that option, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought You are willing to admit immediate defeat, when you haven't even suited up for a battle?

No Way.

I am not Super Mom, Soccer Mom, Hockey Mom, or any sports-related kind of Mom.  I am not Skinny Mom, Organic Mom, Helicopter Mom, Brainy Mom, Tech Mom, Buddy Mom or Pushover Mom. I strongly believe that my children should have boundaries, like behavioral expectations that they can understand, set bedtimes, family chores and mealtimes, times when I know they will react negatively to a decision that I have made, or they may downright dislike me, but that they ultimately know my decisions in regards to them are because they are the most important human beings in my world. I am responsible for them, not accountable to them, and that means being proactive. Developing a relationship now, that's not always flowers and rainbows, but that creates a protection, a peace, a security in this realm that we call home. So that down the road when the things that come that would shape their precious hearts and minds, they will know it is safe to come to MOM to get some kind of wisdom about it. 

My van has a crack in the windshield. The pipe that connects our sink to the basement is defective and clogs and leaks at least once a year.  We have closet doors that will literally fall off and smack you in the head if you aren't opening them properly, and there is a constant battle between us, the ants and the weeds that inhabit our yard.  It's easy when I focus on these things to look at all of the things I don't have...and want.  Like a newer home with newer appliances, built in a newer subdivision, with a bright and shiny car parked out front.  So, when people ask where do you live, I don't have to hang my head and say - a duplex...IN BEVERLY....The compulsion to buy, buy, BUY, can set me into distinct turmoil.  But, from now on, I refuse! Yes, I know we are having a third baby in a home that doesn't have a third bedroom, but it's time to get my priorities in order - to stop believing the advertising! A new house won't make me happy, or take away the obligations and pressures of a mortgage and taking care of a home. It doesn't matter if people judge me by the van I drive, it's MINE, free and clear! I am happy to work for the things that I want, and in the meantime be grateful for the things that I have. 

As a Christian, it's about time I grow up and learn that this life isn't actually all about me. It's about Christ, and living my life for him.  It means that I don't have the luxury of being offended, I have the obligation to forgive - as I have been forgiven - even when I don't understand. It means that instead of judging people, that I must love them, and look for ways that I can serve them. God isn't my Genie that I rub up against now and then when things aren't so convenient for me - and ask him to grant all of my wishes - he is my savior who wants a daily, personal relationship with me. It means that I will stop crucifying other Christians, that I will stand up for what I believe in - while loving others, and that I will not expect my pastor or my church to live out my Christianity for me.  

For the next fifty-two weeks or so, I am embarking on another life journey.  I am having our third baby, and it means more time at home building relationship with my husband and children, and trusting God to walk with us through each day.  I am expecting such good things, and knowing what I want, and how I am determined to live gives me challenges enough to fill the next year. It's not about perfection, it's about a sweetness of spirit and a determination to change, be proactive, and LIVE this great life.

How to Talk to your Husband...

Ok, so I know how to talk with my husband.  We do it all the time. We can talk anything nearly to death, other people’s parenting, religion, war, our families... - we basically have them all figured out. But, when real life hits, and there is no way to deny that the washing machine is truly fried, world war three threatens to erupt in the otherwise peaceful confines of our modest dwelling.  Why, you may ask, would two self-respecting, university educated adults, even bother with making war, not love, over something as clinically mundane as a washing machine?  The answer, my friends, is simple. I don’t know how to talk to my husband. We enter our battle ground armed with presuppositions, he assumes that I will never agree to own a front load washing machine, and I am horrified that he thinks that we only need a washing machine, and I am doomed to spend the rest of my days with a mismatched set, to be seen and judged by the masses...or, something like that.

So, in a nod to our good friends from Les Miserables, the barricades of dirty laundry rise up and each of us are armed and ready for...confrontation, battle, FULL ON WAR! Well, we went one round, and call me a mass of swirling, pregnancy hormones and heartburn, but I tossed up the off-white flag early.  You know the one I’m talking about, the one that says I need a minute to retreat, but don’t imagine in your wildest dreams that THIS is in any way FINISHED.  Retreat I did, to the safety of the upstairs couch,  and essentially he did too.  It seems when guys get frustrated they like to blow things up, being that we were fresh out of firepower - He reached for some computer game that would allow him the opportunity.  We sulked for a while, pacing our respective barricades.

To tell the truth, there was no way I was ready to apologize, or even agree with him. I knew I couldn’t go downstairs, or a rehashing of round one would likely occur with more casualites, and knew full well he wasn’t coming up to me - and I had a choice. I could either spend the entire rest of the evening crying, or we could work this out and get on with life. So, I sat there...desperately trying to work out what to do. In a last ditch effort, I reached for my laptop to start a conversation.  Not one that would demean him, or accuse him, one that would force me to read and essentially LISTEN to what he was saying instead of hearing only through my emotions, and I found out something interesting.

As we talked, it became clear to me very quickly, that we weren’t only talking about purchasing a washing machine.  We were talking about money, about how we saw one another, how we presumed the other felt or thought, and about how nine years of marriage has contributed to old, hurt feelings, and misunderstandings that were working their way into a fight about us, that was cleverly disguised as a conversation about a washing machine. Suddenly, that conversation was difficult and painful, and not so easy to navigate.  It took care and consideration on both of our parts, and figuring out what it was we were actually in conflict about, and speaking to each other frankly and kindly about the issues that came up. I would say, at the end of it all, it was certainly harder - but much more worth the effort. Instead of leaving me feeling angry, frustrated, and scared that I was disconnecting from the most important person to me, I think it helped us deal with a small part of our so-called baggage, and remember how much we really do love and cherish each other.  

Last weekend I witnessed a cousin marry the love of her life. I wanted to tell her, you know - you’re going to fight about these things, these weird things like washing machines, dishwashers, the garbage, but in that don’t forget that sometimes those fights are really about something else, but if you can look at it as a way to build up your relationship, it will be more than worth the effort. 

Not the Perfect Mom

Tonight didn't go how I wanted it to go.  Not at all.  It's the first time in a while that the kids and I have had an evening to ourselves.  They're in bed now, and I'm sitting on the couch, wondering if they know the truth. The truth is, that I missed them all day today.  Every time, I calmed a screaming child, or changed yet another poop-drenched diaper, or laughed or held or cuddled a baby, in my heart of hearts, I was doing for my own kids - hoping they had the same love, care and attention from their daycare provider today.  I miss having fun with them, and hoarding all the time I want with them, and the only thing that I want to do when I get home is to see them and hug them, and hug them, and hug them.  That's not the truth I showed them tonight.

But, tonight went more like this...barking orders, annoyed corrections, and short patience, a fumbled meal, exhausted frustrations, and rushed bedtimes.  Not what I wanted, not nearly close to what I planned.  Instead of a sweet, loving and gentle Mom, they get this frazzled, middle-aged, pregnant woman who doesn't know how to bridge the divide between the Mom she is, and the Mom she wants to be, who, in the meantime, is what they are stuck with.

I clearly don't know all the answers. I couldn't even attempt to string them together into a outcome based list at this point...but the only thing that really spurs me forward, that really encourages me to keep going - is maybe that Mom I plan to be, I actually am, sometimes.  The rest of the time, if I at least keep her in my sights, then I have something to aim for. And maybe, just maybe, that one day, in the future, when my own kids have kids, they may not forget all the times their Mom fell apart, but they will be able to forgive me for it, and remember the other times when I held it together - and know that those times are really what shaped their childhood.

I've stopped striving for perfection. I already know it's unreachable, a standard that defines itself by the constant comparison between itself and day to day failures.  Instead I want to strive tomorrow to be better than I am today, and the day after, and the day after....always keeping in focus a great deal of grace, mercy, love, peace and gentleness.

Mean White Girls

I just recently started a job where I work with a completely female staff.  One really nice thing is that this job hires all ethnicities, races and religions.  Interestingly, that's a first from my experience, and I have found that I rather like it.  Learning about someone, who they are and where they come from are a fascinating part of my day.  However, I have noticed something strange, overall, (with a few exceptions of course) the women who have made me feel the most welcome, and part of the group, have been the beautiful ladies, largely of racial backgrounds other than "white" girls. Now, I am not saying that this is a fair judgement or assessment by any means, but it is the white girls who have the tendency to come across as self-centered, rude and generally unfriendly.  

I've spent a lot of time mulling this over.  Is this a localized phenomenon?  Is it simply a personality clash? I can't expect to get along with everyone.  Is it because I am not in the position to really get to know them? Is it a broken reflection of Caucasian culture? Or, is it me? Am I actually the same way?Am I unwelcoming and suspicious of people who are new to my environment?

Daring to hazard a guess, I would say it is possibly the way that I am perceiving the situation, by oversimplifying complex, long term work relationships.  However, it started to make me wonder, would I behave the same way if I wasn't the one desperate to make an "adult" human connection to embrace during a day filled with never-ending demands from tiny lips and adorable faces?  Do I react this way when a new-comer (a new white girl) is trying to become a part of my world?  

It deeply saddens me to remember times when I have behaved coldly, not allowing someone new in my world the simple comfort and of easy, friendly acceptance.  In the grand scheme of things, a small kindness is not requiring the other to prove their own worth.  

As a Christian, I want to believe that my belief system of loving others, and accepting others as they are comes naturally to me, but maybe it's not as natural as I thought.  Maybe it takes effort, the effort to step outside of the insecurities I have built within myself, perhaps to even step outside of my own cultural limitations in being kind and loving to ladies from all cultures - even my own.  To not see every other white woman as a threat, judging her immediately without giving her the same benefit of doubt that I would enjoy myself. 

Through all of these new experiences, I am learning that I don't have to be defensive or caustic, that what other people express is more about me than about them, and it's my job to love them where they're at.  To be kind to them no matter how they respond to me...especially to the white girls. 

Smiling on the Train

BELVEDERE STATION
I recently started a new job in that I am blessed enough to have to take Edmonton's LRT to work. To be honest I was scared to do it, but now that I am, I wish that the LRT went absolutely everywhere in Edmonton. My daily reprieve from fighting rush-hour traffic has not only been an interesting experience, it has also allowed me to start reading again - an activity I much prefer to driving.

COLISEUM STATION
Every morning and afternoon, I find myself (sometimes stuffed) into a high-speed rail car, shoulder to shoulder with old men balanced on canes, small children pasted to train windows, middle aged working girls, strange smelling college students and me.  The train is an interesting place, it's a small, confined space, where people feel obligated not to speak too loudly, and to avoid eye, and more importantly, bodily contact at all cost.

STADIUM STATION
Interestingly, being with this segment of the population day in and out, has brought out some surprising responses from me.  The first - snap judgements, both positive and negative. I JUDGE people - readily, and almost immediately. I don't know if being sort of sequestered in my own mind, in a roomful of people has brought that out, but I am shocked at the judgements I make. A woman with blonde hair, and glasses, wearing a nurses uniform must be kind, and happy with the fulfilling work that she accomplishes, saving lives each day. A young man, covered with strange tattoos, nearly asleep, slouched in the corner and taking up far too much room on a crowded train, is obviously a criminal miscreant.

CHURCHILL STATION
I found that these judgements come quickly, and if I am not being aware of what I am thinking about, I allow myself to pass these kinds of qualifications on any person I come across.  Especially if something about that person is irritating.  For example, a few mornings ago, I found myself across the aisle from a Dad, a pregnant Mom, and a young boy around four or five.  The young boy was loud, and rude to his parents, when they asked him questions, or tried to share information from them.  The most horrible thought came to my mind. Great - You're working on raising yet another self centered drain on society who clearly has no boundaries and has never even heard the word NO, and you're going to have another one. CONGRATULATIONS.

BAY/ENTERPRISE SQUARE STATION
Not to mention, on my ride home on Friday, the Police were on board the train, checking passengers tickets. They made their way slowly through our car, checking each ticket carefully.  Passing me, they moved to a young man sitting behind me.  Well, he had no ticket, and do you want to hear his excuse? "It must have fallen out of my pocket as I raced down the stairs to the Train.  My first thought - Yeah, right buddy. Got caught free-loading eh? As if the embarrassment isn't enough, what this poor guy really needs is MORE judgement.  I mean, he was forced to get off the train at the next stop, and probably ticketed for $150.  Sure, it's easy to call him a free-loader, some jerk who thought he could get away with using the train for free.  But maybe, that isn't all there is. 

CORONA STATION
 Maybe there's more to the story.  As easy as it is to judge someone, it is equally as simple to wonder.  What if he didn't have the money, but needed to take the train? What if he was going to visit a sick friend, and the train was his only choice, and he spent his money on picking up a prescription for his friend? Ok, I know, as a writer I tend to exaggerate, and the most likely story is usually true, but it has started to make me wonder about EACH person I see on the train. What's your story? Are you what you appear to be?

GRANDIN/GOVERNMENT CENTER STATION
It has made me stop and wonder - what are the snap judgements people make about me? Staring at myself in the reflected lights of the passing city, I've started to wonder, Are you what YOU appear to be? I have taken the time to study my tired looking, sometimes fairly homely reflection, bundled in an over-sized coat, continually popping cough drops, trying to smother those same coughs. (It's been a tough February!) I wonder what other people think. Oh seriously! Of course I get to sit next to the cougher, can't you just stay at home? Spare the rest of us your disease?

UNIVERSITY STATION
At the very least, it those thoughts have made me take pause in my judgements. To look for the good in people. I have found it is as easy to wonder, and think kind things about people, as it is to think the negative, and believe the negative about someone right away. On a particularly slow ride, due to construction, the conductor's voice came in over the speaker. He started to talk, to share events from the day - actually it was the day the women won Gold in both curling and hockey, he told jokes, he shared information about the LRT, and made the ride generally pleasant as people started to smile and laugh with each other. That got me thinking - it doesn't take much. 

HEALTH SCIENCES/JUBILEE STATION 
Seeing people as valuable, not judging who they are or what they are makes it less difficult to wade through the thousands of silent thoughts floating around the train car.  Now, it doesn't mean that as of yet I have been brave enough to actually hold a conversation with someone, but, I can smile at them, say hello, and thank you. In fact, I have a secret project that I am working on currently. There's a young woman who, every morning is standing at the front door of Belvedere station handing out newspapers. I smile and say Good morning every morning. I am hoping to one day get her to smile. So far...no luck...but she did say 'morning once.

Thank you for riding the LRT with me today, and I've learned to stop seeing strangers, and to start seeing people.


ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS - added Feb.28, 2014

What a difference a week can make.  When I wrote this post, I didn't know how truly critical it would become for me this week.  In a strange way, it was like I was speaking to my future self. Last night, as I settled in for the ride home, I met a young woman with red hair, and the most interesting tattooed eyebrows I have ever seen. I wanted to tell her that I thought so, but shied away at the last minute for fear of being "weird" or too "intimate" with a stranger. That young woman never made it off at the next stop.  She collapsed in the doorway of the train, and stopped breathing. All I could do was watch, and pray, and pray, and pray. Though she was given CPR almost immediately, and though there was even a Doctor on board the train, she never responded.  It was like watching something surreal, and the five or six of us from that car of the train, who gathered around her were all pulling for her, all hoping she would start breathing on her own. Every time the attendants were asked, is she breathing? And the response was negative, it was like we all would let out a collective sigh of sadness and disappointment. 

I don't know what happened to her, she wasn't yet breathing when the train finally pulled out of the station. I pray that somehow, because she was only 22, that she pulled through. But, what I saw, should be a credit not only to the LRT, but also to the Edmontonians on board.  We gathered around her, working together, a congress of strangers who wanted nothing more than to help this woman, who was all alone and in the most desperate moments of her life.  I can tell you, it wasn't hard to see people then, to see the worry, the concern, the effort at finding an answer that would help this woman - and in all of the upset, and sadness, and fear, there were people willing to do whatever was needed to help.

We live in a good city, a great city, a wonderful community - willing to look evil in the eye, and do what is right.

Imagine

There was a place

I used to live

it was

Beautiful

it was

My own

But now it's

starting to look

a little run down

a little old

a little forgotten

the wind is cooler

the grass has faded

rich emerald

to just green and though

the sky and water are

still blue

only blue not sapphire

the once friendly faces

look at me

like strangers now

the castles are overgrown with

climbing ivy

ponds are thick with algae

the gates are closed

because years ago

I found my prince

and I could stop looking

I didn’t need them

any more

but I am finding that

I need them now

even though 

I feel 

guilty

spending time with

them instead of

here

where my time is demanded

but land needs to grow

again

this is my wish

my hope

my fondest dream

to be able to live in

both worlds

always


J.Haveman
2013