God's Mysteries

Last night as I sat at the table eating an apple with Elijah, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, I can understand that plants make fruit, but what I really can't understand is how the flavor gets in there." Of course, I sat there stunned for a moment before I could even come up with the simple response that I didn't know, either. In fact, it's not just that I don't know the answer to that; I don't think I've even thought of the question before.

My Worry Window

Last month I had the opportunity to visit one of my family's favorite vacation spots. This time, right up there on the fun-things-to-do agenda was water skiing. Taking pictures from the shore, my sister, brother-in-law, and I chatted as we watched our kids in the boat and on the skis. As my nephew fell into the water following his turn, my brother-in-law turned around and began to snicker and point. There in the window above us was my mom. As she stood there, eyebrows knit together, her worry about their safety was obvious.

Through Thick and Thin

Last week, according to major news stories, Pat Robertson claimed that if a person's spouse has Alzheimer's disease, divorce is acceptable. I am confident that he is wrong.

When my dad was 60 years old, he was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease. Since Dad's mom and brother had previously died from the disease, the diagnosis was hardly a shock to us, yet no amount of preparation can prepare a family for what Alzheimer's does. Dad retired because of it, and he and my mom moved to Sioux Falls where he could be cared for more easily. Since she is younger by seven years, Mom continued (and still continues) to work.

My Road Rage Blessing

Have you ever driven somewhere only to realize that you only remember half the trip?

I used to drive 18 miles to work in Hawarden. On the way to and fro, my mind would get lost in my plans. Those 18 miles were an escape, a time to think. Unfortunately, I wasn't always thinking quite enough about driving.

One odd mile and a quarter-long stretch of road had two stop signs. These signs were in the middle of nowhere, just a place where various roads met up in an unusual configuration.

On this particular day, I noticed that a lady was trying to flag me down, and she was anything but happy with me. "Do you realize you just ran that stop sign?" she asked.

I had no idea at all. I rarely saw more than five cars on my way to work each morning, so evidently I was allowing myself to zone out while driving that particular stretch of lonesome road.

My mouth fell open. How to respond? I thought. After a moment, I told her no, I didn't realize I'd run the stop sign and then proceeded to offer profuse thanks for stopping me to tell me. It was her turn to let her jaw drop.

That woman (whose name I did not ask) could very well have saved my life or another person's life. I think we all know people who have died after running stop signs or have been T-boned by someone who has made that mistake. It had to take a little bravery on her part to stand up to me, someone whom she didn't know, and someone who probably could have responded in an entirely different way.

Unfortunately, it's not always that easy. It's much more convenient to act defiant and defensive, especially when someone holds me accountable for something that I know is true. I need to remember, though, that holding someone accountable in a loving way (and trust me, loving is the operative word) is loyal. It is true. It is just.

Being judgmental and holding someone accountable are two completely different things. Being judgmental is complaining  about someone without giving him a chance to improve. Being judgmental makes forgiveness and reconciliation difficult. Accountability, on the other hand, shows the other person that you know he is capable of being better, of becoming a bigger person. Holding someone accountable is humbling both for the giver and the receiver.

Keep this mind next time someone who cares about you approaches you with the difficult task of holding you accountable. Remember that in doing so, he is considering you worthy of the personal cost.

Eating What's Good for You

At age seven, my son is an incredibly fussy eater. Peanut butter sandwiches, strawberries, pancakes, chicken nuggets, grapes, raw carrots, french fries, and fresh bread are his favorites, but he refuses to eat baked potatoes, sweet corn and other cooked vegetables, noodles,  soup, or casseroles.

Yes, I've spoiled him. Yes, it has to stop. While I've been complimented many times on what a kind boy I have, this is his weak spot.

Fussy eating affects his nutrition, but just as importantly, it affects his relationship with others. It's rude not to eat what is prepared for him. Most of all, expecting special meals teaches him that he deserves to be catered to, and that's just not okay.

We know that we have to change his habits for him because he will never choose to do so on his own. We've tried many things, from the two bite rule to the you-can't-have-anything-else-until-you-eat-that rule. Tonight my son is in bed and has had nothing since his after-school snack.¹ I feel guilty, but I know that a little discomfort now will save a lot of frustration later.

Sometimes I, too, want what I want—well, just because I want it. Like my sweet but slightly ornery Elijah, I expect to be catered to in my own selfish ways. Sometimes I've prayed for things to change for no other reason than to make life easier for me. While I believe that God wants to hear from me every moment of every day, I do not believe that I can force God to provide for every prayer request.

He has a bigger, better plan.

Similar to a fussy eater, I want to choose my experiences. While moments of my life have tasted a little more like liver and onions than strawberry pie, I still have lessons to learn even from those days that aren't exactly what I ordered.

I can be thankful that I have a God who understands my needs more than I do.



¹He finally got out of bed an hour later and ate everything on his plate. Success!

The Author of It All

One of my first years of teaching, I assigned my freshmen to write book reports. One of the stipulations, I said, was that they had to include information about the authors. One freckle-faced freshman popped in to my room a few days later after school. "Mrs. V., I can't find any information about this author. I looked on the flap where you told us to, but there's nothing there." I took the book from her hands and turned it over. It was The Story of My Life by Helen Keller.

It is one of the stories from teaching that I enjoy retelling; I love remembering our laughter after we realized how silly the question was. It reminds me, though, of what people say about God. How can God be here? Why doesn't He talk to me? How do you know He exists?

We have more than a book with his name in it. For me, all I have to do is look at the wonders of creation: the pureness of a blue sky, the majesty of mountains, the magic of plant growth, the abundance of life in the oceans, the love of a child. I look at those things and think, how can there not be a God?

We have His story and His creation. How much more convincing could we possibly need?

Advice from Friends

Some of my best lessons have come from my family members and friends. Today I'm not providing you with my own insight but the insights of those who have taught me much. I am only including initials so I don't embarrass anyone. I am firmly convinced that most of these people don't even realize that they've taught me something, so if you recognize your initials, thanks for being a positive example to me.

1. All you have to say is "no." H.Z.
2. No one is responsible for your happiness but you. N.V.
3. Sing...loud. D.T.
4. If you don't think you have time to help someone, think again. J.F.
5. Be generous in all you do. J.V.
6. Family first. R.G.
7. Forgive and then forgive again. C.V.
8. Have compassion especially on those who cannot defend themselves. B.B.
9. Keep it real. M.R.
10. If you say "yes" to one thing, remember that you are saying "no" to something or someone else. H.Z.
11. What doesn't kill you will only make you stronger. M.V.
12. Patience teaches more than irritation does. M.K.
13. Judge the sin, not the sinner. S.T.
14. Take time to giggle. E.V.
15. It really doesn't matter what others think of you as long as you know you're doing the right thing. K.V.
16. If it's not in your beliefs, don't make excuses. Just don't do it. W.E.
17. People trust you more if you're not perfect, either. A.R.
18. One well-placed comment is more humorous than a rehearsed joke. R.H.
19. Men can cook. J.F.
20. There are two things a person should never try to save money on: shoes and mattresses. J.T. (Okay, that was John Tesh, and he is not my friend.)
21. If someone asks you for the truth, tell it to him even if it hurts a little. G.V.
22. Sometimes the best thing a friend can do is listen. K.P.

Just Fix It

My role at work is to fix mistakes. From removing the extra space that people sometimes put between sentences to fact checking to revising wording, my job is to make sure that copy is as accurate as possible before it leaves my desk. Of course, I'm more successful at some times than others, but that was the focus of previous blog.

Now, I happen to work with an exceptional group of people. Their creativity simply stuns me. I sometimes envy those talents, but I don't know that I could ever perform like they do, with creativity on demand.

Occasionally I wish that my editing job could be a little more glamorous. I feel a little like Walter Mitty, daydreaming about the ways my role could feel a little more heroic. Perhaps I could have a plane fly over with a sign that says, "1,000th Fix!" Okay, I am being facetious.

I'll admit that once in a while, the error-fixing and wording improvements get tedious. Sometimes I really want to roll my eyes and say, "Really? Again?"¹ At those times, God allows me to run something with a mistake so I have to acknowledge that I'm not perfect either. (Thanks, God — I think.)

Tonight these all-too-human feelings of self-pity have led me to remember another fixer. This particular fixer  accepted the weight of the world's sin as He staggered under the weight of the cross on the road to Golgotha. This fixer allowed Himself to be persecuted and in the midst of it all cried out, "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing" (Luke 23:34a).

This fixer offers forgiveness of sins to all who call upon His name.

Jesus Christ makes me realize just how insignificant of a fixer I am. Though I am sometimes tempted to point out errors (okay, not just point them out—but point them out with attitude), that's when God nudges me and reminds me that I need to work on fruits of the Spirit, including self-control.

Thanks be to God that He's not just forgiving...but persistently so.
 



¹Disclaimer: Yes, I did already admit in a previous blog that I'm impatient at times. Still working on it.

The Truth about Us

My seven-year-old son brings a tremendous amount of joy to my life. Recently as he was playing with his Matchbox cars, he held up a yellow car that had the word Charger written on it and said, "You know, I thought this was a Dodge Charger, but look!" He turned over this car as well as about five others. "They are all Thailands."

After I explained that Thailand is where the cars were made, we chuckled about it together. Now I can't help but make another metaphor. (It's a weakness. Please bear with me.)

Matchbox cars aren't that much different from people.

Sometimes I look at someone who seems to have it all: new car, beautiful home, nuclear family, but when I look at the family from a different perspective, I realize that things aren't as right as they seem. The family is in deep debt, the marriage is rocky, or one child's health is deteriorating.

I sometimes forget that we're all the same and judge a person's worth by how he appears on the outside—not merely physical appearance, but prestige and reputation as well.

As Christians, especially, it's so important that we remember that we have all come from the same place—a dark, hurting place that was once apart from God. We like to show everyone our shiny exteriors, the ones with the name brand clothing, the cool job, or the college degrees. We love the illusion of perfection. Instead, we just need keep in mind that deep down, we're all Thailands, saved by the amazing grace of the One who came to tell us that we are special not because we're better, but because we're His.

In Control

Today I joked with a friend that I should have named my blog "Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda" because I felt that my first four blog posts had taken on more negativity and sadness than what I wanted. I would love to tell you that I just don't do negative, but I do have my days!

One of my infamous roles in our house is the clutter Nazi. No, my kids didn't give me that name, and I'll thank you not to mention it to them. Anyway, very few things irk me so me much as when I've been at work and come home to a recently demolished living room, a sink full of crusty dishes, or a laundry room floor covered in dirty laundry.

I've been known to walk in the door, and the first words that come out of my mouth are, "Who left these shoes here? Whose glass is that sitting on the table? Do you guys think I'm just here to pick up after you?" No "hello." No "I love you." Instead, the first words that spill from my mouth are condemnation for what hasn't been done.

Have I told you that patience isn't really one of my virtues? It's not that I'm a neat freak; I'm a little messy myself. What I am is a responsibility freak. When my temper rises, my kids don't jump their feet to fix everything. (Keep in mind: this happens too often.) When I'm quick to anger, they just think I'm mean.

No matter how much I try to hand everything over to God, I have to admit that I need to accept that I have full control of my attitude. My attitude is a choice that I make every day—every minute—and regardless of my current circumstances, the moods of those around me, or even the cleanliness of my house, I need to keep it in check.

I'm convinced that my kids will forget that I'm a reluctant cook, and I'm pretty sure that they won't care that my garden is overrun with weeds. The memories my children and other people around me will keep are the feelings that I left with them: whether, on a daily basis, I made them feel valued or worthless.

Today seems like a good day to start.