Choices

     Do you remember when you were first allowed to choose what clothes you wore? Or your hairstyle? What about food choices - did you get any of those as a child?
     I don't mind making most choices because I know what I like or don't like. Some choices are easy. 
     But what about big decisions: where to live...to buy or sell a home...to change jobs...to serve your community...to take classes. Some choices go with age, and I've known that; I just didn't expect so many.
     I've just spent a week with several opportunities, and I'm analyzing my process.
1.  When asked to participate in something, get the facts and what it will require. Read up on stuff; pay close attention to stress levels.
2.  Talk to close friends who will pray for God's wisdom.
3.  Let yourself feel the excitement, examining the opportunities and possibilities.
4.  Watch for self-serving motives to pop up.
5.  Talk to God about it, and write out positives and negatives.
6.  Ask for guidance from the scripture. Be careful here...keep reading it in context, or you might read something like the old:  "And Judas went out and hanged himself; go and do likewise." Nope --- poor exegesis.
7.  Sit on the decision for at least a week...more if possible.
8.  Pray Ann Kimmel's increase/decrease prayer: that if it's God's plan He will increase your desire. If it's not, pray that He will decrease your desire.
     Those are just a few of the things I did in the past week to discover what I needed to do. There's a hint of disappointment, but a boatload of peace about the decision I made.
     Let me hear your process.
    

Hope Springs

     Truthfully, there are many disturbing things going on in our nation and world, and even in my life and the lives of people I love. As I perused my morning online news today, I was overwhelmed and actually closed the sites. So much violence going on right now. Is it just that we are able to receive more news, more quickly? I've got to start limiting my news "coverage." It's depressing.
      That's why I have to consistently read the scriptures. It is the place I find hope. If this physical life is all there is, we're toast! But the scripture says it's NOT all there is. I choose to believe that is true...why not? The other alternatives aren't so hot.
      Not long ago I listened to a radio program on the way home from work. A woman who described herself as an atheist, talked about her reasons for not believing in a "God-myth." She believes that after we die, there is nothing. At the end of her comments, she said, "I really wish I could believe."
      Sometimes people are like some of the early followers of Jesus, who frankly, made Him very frustrated. He said these strong words: "Stop doubting and believe!"
      I don't particularly enjoy cold winters, nor hot summers. But I love spring. And I'm thankful for the previous owner of my home, who planted lilacs all along the back fence of the property. As I sit at my desk, I'm watching them get ready to burst into flagrant colors. It's gone from hoping we have great blooms this year, to seeing them develop and change.
      Hope springs up in me too --- that this pain, suffering, and sadness is NOT ALL THERE IS! I choose to believe what He says. What have I got to lose? I cannot control life or death, so ... why not believe?

The Dreaded Disease

It started so subtly

With a twitch here and there,

A poor judgment call

And a far-away stare.

 

Your laid-back demeanor

Kept coming and going.

I watched and I listened;

The distress was growing.

 

You've seldom been angry;

You're always soft-spoken.

Your joking and humor...

Your trademark, your token.

 

When dangerous decisions

Left me feeling afraid,

I had to speak up;

My hope started to fade.

 

I'd hoped and I'd prayed

That you would escape it -

This dreaded disease;

You weren't going to make it.

 

I watched and worried,

But I could not control,

Nor stop this decline,

And it tore at my soul.

 

Your humor remained;

I valued each moment

Of laughter and tears,

All the great times we spent.

 

I'd wake you with hugs,

Cover you with kisses,

Tell you, "I love you,"

But swallowed my wishes

 

That you would be well,

That all things would be right,

That healing would come,

Breaking into our night.

 

Miracles did come,

Full forgiveness and joy.

My love was renewed,

God's deep purpose employed.

 

I'm learning to trust,

Knowing He does things well.

Your life's in His hands...

The story I will tell.



SNEAKY

     Idols are tricky. You think they are dead and gone, have no more power over you, and in a moment one can sneak up behind you and let you have it.
    Idols are those things we have bowed down to, lived for - some of mine have been the approval of other people, appreciation for something I did. In recent months I have experienced the freedom of living for Someone greater in a new way. I have felt free of the opinions of others. I have concentrated on following that inner whispered Voice, ignoring the voices around me--even those who praised me. What freedom I have felt, and the knowledge that I am pleasing Him, whether anyone else understands or not.
    I've figured out the real problem behind my idols: they are shamed based. I know that as long as I am following the program, saying the right things, doing what's expected, I'm good...and will receive praise from them. But their praise is double-edged, because it means if I'm not on top of things, not performing correctly, I will feel shamed, by a look, by a word --- usually of praise. That doesn't seem to make sense, but when shame-based people praise, there is always an inner knowledge of the other side of the coin. You're okay today, but tomorrow...well, we'll see.
    I don't live for others anymore. I live for the One who took my SHAME and SIN and conquered them on the cross. He never shames me with a look, His voice, nor His words. He is always saying, "My child, you are on the right track, and we are in this together...you are my Masterpiece, and I'm delighted with everything about you!" Whoopee...
   

Noticing

     In a small town, some things are too big to miss. When a prominent community leader has an affair, it can't be hidden long. If a loving, caring person suddenly changes and turns violence on themselves or others, it's going to be known by many. Then something else happens. When we see people in these situations---at the grocery store or in the post office -- we don't know what to say. We don't want to make people cry, but we don't want to appear unconcerned.
     A hurting friend of mine told me recently that she cries any time anyone expresses their understanding about her difficult situation. I know what she means. It's like you have a huge, open sore, and someone accidentally touches it---ouch! And the tears tumble.
     I've been that way many times in my life. I once told a doctor: "I need some medication during my grief- I can't keep crying like this when people are nice to me!"
     This week I spoke with a relative of mine. We spent some time together when we were young. As we talked about family, she said to me, "When you would leave after a visit, we would talk about how you were not happy. When your parents took in other children in need, we said, "Why would they do that when they don't like their own children?"
      I was taken aback...shocked that someone recognized my unhappiness, saw my sorrow. I have often thought my parents were so wounded themselves that they couldn't fully connect with me or my brother. Sometimes I wondered if I was making it all up, that perhaps I simply misunderstood their love language.
      To know that my pain was visible, that I was not just super-sensitive, wow - it was affirming, and in a strange way, healing. I know I cannot go back and fix anything. But I can know that I knew what I knew!
      Oh, I want my kids to know I love them. I cherish our times together. I want to be with them and their children.
      I am so thankful for God's continued revelations to me. He wants total freedom, and it takes a while when you're as old as I am! He just never gives up --- thank goodness.