Setting Me Right

Sometimes when I can't sleep in the middle of the night, I play Solitaire on my iPad, and this morning  I discovered this setting:

What? After all the losing games I've had over the past years, I could have simply slid this lever over and assigned myself all winning games? On one hand, that would have relieved a lot of frustration for me. Instead of getting to that place where it seems I have nothing left to try, I could hit Undo or Start this game over and be guaranteed a win.

While we're at it, I'd really just like to have one of these handy little levers for my life. This is where my all winning situations lever would be rather handy:


1. Arguments with my husband. I promise we don't argue that much, but when we do, I'm a little put off by those moments when this thought crosses my mind: maybe I'm a little crabby. Even worse is when he says something that is logical to my emotional or when he doesn't argue back and I'm itching for a challenge. My all winning situations lever would help him to argue enough but not well. I would always be right.

2. When someone needs my help but I don't want to. My lever will let me have a busy calendar or an apt excuse on the tip of my tongue. Handy.

3. Self-control. I will no longer struggle with overeating or lack of motivation for exercise.

4. Those tough times when it's my job to correct someone and he really doesn't want to hear it. Whether in my role as a teacher, parent, or editor, I've always (okay—usually) tried to be tactful and kind, but with this lever, I can be blunt and pointed (funny how those words mean the same thing, right?) without worrying about feelings. That would save so much time and effort.

Really, though, sometimes I do long for a life like this, for every situation to be winnable, to have the skill, finesse, and persistence to pull off every challenge. Still, it seems there's something rather prideful in my quest to be right, to win every. single. time.

I have a God who knows what I need and when I need it, and it isn't always through winning. In fact, my sometimes losing personal setting means that I must admit I'm irritable and impatient and imperfect. It exposes my selfish motivations.

God really isn't up in heaven looking down on me and flipping a win/lose switch. He isn't saying, "She's lost three times in a row. Think I'll give her a win before she quits."

Through the Holy Spirit, God is here with me—and you if you've invited Him in. Instead of giving us situations we can always win, he has us set on Always Improvable. He sees us as we can be, not as our current selves, and that should give us a measure of His peace. It's our role, then, to accept correction and redirection and understand that if God is doing the remodeling of our hearts, then we will all win...through grace alone.

A Sponsorship Story

When we were in Ethiopia, we elected to stay at the Morning Coffee Guest House for a couple of reasons. First, there we would get more insight into Ethiopian culture, and second, because we read that the owners give away 30% of their guest house income.

The main reason we'll be staying there on our next trip isn't because of the great hospitality of the owners, the satisfying meals, or even the wonderful guests we met on our first trip (and hope to see on our second). The biggest reason we'll be staying there the second time is all about life story and missional focus.

Why I Won't Promote Adoption

Here we are, only a few weeks from picking up our two beautiful children Tadesse and Biruk from their orphanage in Addis Ababa. Some friends are excited to ask me all sorts of questions, but some hang back, likely afraid that I'll corner them into adopting for themselves.

But I won't. Because I'm not like that. Instead, I'm going to tell you why you shouldn't.

Living ...with Style

I have an odd—maybe vain—habit. When I've practiced a piano number to almost error free (See my previous post about that), I record myself to listen for inappropriate pauses, tempo changes, and my muttered frustration at mistakes. Then I work to fix those areas.

Today when listening to Lorie Line, who wrote most of the music I'm attempting to play, I didn't hear her correct notes. I heard her style. Her playing didn't resemble piano key-plunking as mine often does. Her rhythm didn't seem tiresome and rigid. It flowed. And her dynamics? Well, let's just say that I pretend mine are always mezzo forte, and something is lost in my interpretation.