Give Thanks

I love this picture. I'm not sure why. Originally a 1918 photograph by Eric Enstrom, then more recently reproduced in oils by his daughter, it must have hung on a wall in the home of one of my grandparents. While the table setting and walls around him are so meager (and the book I always asumed was a Bible looks so big and daunting), this man always seemed so peaceful to me. He's old. Alone. Perhaps poor. Yet peaceful. It's title is simply "Grace".

I wonder if perhaps I ought to offer more graces and say few prayers. To "say a prayer" tends to conjure long lists of requests the untold numbers who do indeed need the attention of spritual being. Yet "saying grace" has in my mind anyway the spirit of offering rather than asking.

This year at the Thanksgiving meal I was asked to offer the blessing before the meal. (Maybe it was because last year I missed both the blessing and the meal??....another entry - another day?) Nonetheless at the first ask I was offered the oppotunity to share a little bit of what I'm thankful for in the midst of times that are not the easiest. As I sought some insight from those whose words of thanks are recorded in the Bible, I came to a profound understanding. I remembered that the Biblical references are often in the imperative mood (I just love gramatical verbiage!) We are told over and over to "Give thanks!" Over and over again as I read the references, I saw that the command to give thanks was not based "even a pinch," as my daughter says, on the circumstances or situations in which those instructed to give thanks found themselves. Repeatedly we along with our historic Israelite brothers and sisters were told to give thanks
to the LORD because "His love endures forever." Now there's a reason to be thankful. That gets me out of my own pity party. And even pity parties I'd like to throw for others who are in dire straights. The stuff that is difficult in my life and the lives of people I know and love is equivelant to the blink of an eye in comparison to a forever-enduring love.

Nope, it doesn't make my crap less "crappier" - but it does make me shift my focus. There's a reason that many 12-step and other types of recovery programs have folks keep a gratitude journal. Every day, entering 5 things for which they are thankful. Some people say that the first few days it is often really difficult to come up with 5 things. Over time, it gets increasingly easier. Being thankful is a mindset. A choice. Sure, I can be thankful when blessings pour in my life. That's easy. It's when I'm feeling like I'm living (barely) in a dark hole and yet I choose to "Give thanks to the LORD because His love endures forever."

Fall

In all of his 4 years of school experience, my Brody-Man has never been a huge fan of going to school. In his second year of pre-school, it took about 3 months for him to go without telling me "I'm NOT going to school!". That year, on one of those days in early fall when you get a surprise fall-feeling day and my car was not working. We walked Iris to the bus stop and then I sprung the news on him that he didn't have to go to school that day. Sure, I could have found a him a ride. One of the teachers from the school even lived in our neighborhood. But hey, I was going to be home, why not let the little dude have a day off.

He was THRILLED. With the weight of going to school lifted from his heart and shoulders, he skipped all the way home from the bus stop. He noticed the change in the weather and began to plan out his day. He said, first he was going to catch a leaf in the front yard..."since it was fall and that's when the leaves fall, ya know", then he'd come inside and I would build a fire in the fireplace so he could drink hot chocolate by the fire on this crisp fall day. It was early fall, and in Texas to boot. Leaves were not falling off the trees (except for the ones that had died in the hot summer). In my protective mothering way I reminded Brody that fall doesn't just happen overnight. That it is a season. That a leaf may or may not fall from the tree for him to catch. Brody has always been a kid who gets pretty upset when things don't go the way he thinks they should, and I was just trying to help prepare him for the likelihood that he would NOT have the opportunity to catch leaves. He looked at me and said, "Well, then I'll just pray to God that I can catch a leaf." Still in the protective mode (maybe more to protect me having to deal with him when he got so frustrated), I reminded him that sometimes God takes time to answer our prayers, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. He just looked at me and grabbed his jacket and ran outside the front door and stood between the two scrawny trees on our little front yard. He was running around enjoying not being at school. Enjoying the cool day. Suddenly he came bursting in - "See, Mom!" he said, "See! I catched a leaf. I prayed to God and He let me catched a leaf! Can I have my hot chocolate now?"

"See, Mom!" What a reminder. The faith of a child.

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?"

He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. (Matthew 18: 1-5)

My son taught me a great lesson that day. He believed. He acted upon that belief. He was joyous about his answered prayer. He immediately shared his joy with someone else. He didn't give me a hard time for doubting. He didn't judge my unbelief. I'm not saying that every prayer is answered like that. But maybe Iought to be more expectant in my prayers. More faith-full.

Brody's prayer wasn't the wish-list, can-I-please-have, type of prayer. He was wanting to enjoy the full experience of one of God's created days. That year, his pre-school teacher Mrs. Pete, started every morning with the children saying their own version of Psalm 118:24 and it ended with something like "and we'll be happy today because it is a God-made day!" Brody asked God to help him enjoy His creation that morning and the Great God Almighty was thrilled to send a leaf off of that tree for Brody to catch. Perhaps my prayers ought to focus more on God and His plans and His creation, than me and my plans.

We took his leaf into the kitchen and made two cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows. I want to always remember that day.

Blessings

On the radio tonight (on the Delilah show) a man was telling an inspiring story of a Special Olympian that he got to know when he volunteered one year. He ended with the admonition to not just COUNT your blessings, but to DO something with them. USE them to their fullest potential. Of course just hearing the "Count Your Blessings" phrase brought to mind the hymn by Oatman and Excell. "Count your blessings name them one by one...and it will surprise you what the Lord hath done." I can remember singing that song as a little girl in the church I grew up in. I think it is one of those songs with good intentions, but maybe not the greatest theology. If I really know God like He wants me to, are His blessings in my life going to be that "surprising"? The song goes on to talk about focusing on the blessings with times are difficult. I'm a glass-half-full gal. I tend to always point out the silver lining of the dark, dreary clouds. (I think that sometimes it even annoys folks.) My point being, I'm pretty good at the counting of the blessings. But I don't think that God gives me blessings just to tally up. I'm thinking He'd like me to DO something with them to bless others and give Him honor and glory. He calls us to love Him and love each other and He blesses us in all sorts of ways so that we can get creative in how we do just that. So go ahead, count your blessings, make your thankful list and then GO. Go show the love of Jesus to others with the blessings He's given you! Dive Deep into His love!

Wating

In a Bible study once we used a resource called "Secrets of the Secret Place" by Bob Sorge. (Really a great source of practical tips for improving upon our relationship with God, by improving upon the ways in which we spend time with Him.) Anyway, one chapter was called "The Secret of Waiting." I have found it relevant in nearly every "official" group study I've done since then. We aren't used to waiting anymore. Overnight deliveries. Fast food. Express lanes. It's all quick and fast and done before you know it. And if immediately isn't quite fast enough, bosses want it ten minutes ago, yesterday, or last week.

Well, I've been waiting this week. I guess it's only Tuesday, but it seems like "next Tuesday" already. I went out of town last week to help put on a conference in beautiful Lubbock, Texas (well, if you've been to Lubbock, then you know I'm talking about the hearts of the people here.) On Saturday, I started feeling a little bit "off." No real symptoms I could name other than a hard, but tender knot behind my left ear. Then Sunday morning, my head was hurting and all around my ears - not like an ear infection - but behind and in front of them. And my scalp sort felt like it was sunburned. I left my co-worker to do all of the packing up and spent the day sleeping in my hotel room. (Sorry, Eric!) By the evening, I was certain that I had been dealing with a fever and felt miserable. We tried to find an urgent care clinic, but at 7:00 p.m. on Sunday it looked like an ER was the best bet. My fever registered at 104.5. The triage nurse got me to a room in the ER right away. It was finally determined that I had some sort of skin infection that usually shows up on arms or legs, but mine was on my head and face. I had a bright red "band" across my forehead that made it look like I had been wearing a hat that was too tight. (Of course, that was the obvious visible symptom and the one that caused me the least amount of distress.) After playing the inevitable waiting game in the ER I was admitted to a room. The infection and fever left me so exhausted that I'm pretty sure my friends to brought me to the hospital have some amusing stories to tell. After I was in my room and my friends had left, I woke up needing to use the bathroom. I was so physically exhausted that I passed out on the floor. And then when I came around, I was so mentally exhausted that I didn't even think to pull that cord in the bathroom to call for help!!

The doctors have chosen to treat me with a strong antibiotic that is only available in IV drip form. So I'm waiting to get better. The docs tell me that it is not uncommon for an infection of this type that shows up on the head to require a 5-6 day hospital stay. There is no surgery involved. No invasive procedures. Just waiting. Waiting for the antibiotic to be active in my blood steam. Waiting for the levels to be high enough to safely switch me to an oral medication. Waiting for the redness to subside and for the swelling to go down. (This morning I looked like I had a face and a half because of how swollen my glands were after working so hard at fighting this thing!) But in the days of instant messages and real time status reports, 48 hours has seemed like days on end. Landing in the hospital away from home increases the "feeling" of waiting exponentially. I want to be home with my children and family. But I need to be better first. Waiting for the medication to attack the infection and kill it and get it out of my system, takes time. It won't be rushed. Increasing the medication to make it "work faster" would only be detrimental to my health - not beneficial.

This afternoon and evening, I'm feeling much better. But I know that if I were to get up and act as if I haven't been extremely ill for 2 and half days, I would quickly exhaust any surplus energy I might have. And I'm reminded that the word "wait" has expectation built in. Wishes are for stars and birthday candles. But waiting has hope attached. Hope that what I'm waiting for will actually come to pass. Hope that I will indeed be better and be home soon. Hope that my body will react appropriately to the medication that is so strong it burns in my vein as it is being pumped in.

David tells us in Psalm 27 to "Wait for the Lord, be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." Then Isaiah tells us what happens to those who wait for the Lord that they "will renew their strength." So maybe when my spirit is exhausted to the point of fainting, more works or more study or more prayer even - those just aren't the things that will give me the strength. The strength comes in the waiting. And in whom I choose to wait. In that hopeful expectation of what will come. I don't know how He will chose to reveal that strength. But I want to remember to be watchful and not assume that I'm the one who has the best plan laid out. In the hospital, my choice would have been a pill to swallow that would have me back on my feet in 24 hours. Not the 6-8 dose IV drip that can only be administered once every 12 hours over a 120 minute period.

It's just another reminder to me from Him that I am in a season of waiting. And that's ok. I don't have to have all the answers today. Or tomorrow for that matter. I will be active in my pursuit of His will, but will also remember to wait in His presence. To listen to what He has for me for today.

(Special thanks to my new-found Lubbock friends who have taken the time to hang out with me for some of this waiting time this week!)

Butterflies

Just before I turned 10 years old, my family moved from Michigan to Tennessee. I was supposed to get to have a sleep-over birthday party for my 10th birthday party. It's kind of hard to do that when you don't know anyone because you moved far away. Then I started school in the fall and it was awful. It was hard. The kids made fun of they way I talked. I just wanted to "go home." Back to what I knew. Back to people who knew me. I started having bad stomach aches and head aches, which were finally realized to be stress/anxiety related. Change was not my thing, you see. And that move was a huge change to my 10-year-old self. My wise parents took me to see a counselor for help coping with the changes.

A tool that he equipped me with was to spend 2o minutes twice a day "looking for butterflies." I would sit in a chair, close my eyes and imagine I was looking at a meadow as far as I could see with flowers (my choice was daisies) in it. Then in the forefront I would imagine butterflies. And then I'd "watch" the butterflies fluttering by, back and forth in my mind. It is a tool I still use to this day, most often at night when I can't sleep especially because too many thoughts start crowding my mind.

Change is still not my thing. I'm not the kind of gal who wants new furniture or new paint every year. I like things steady. And so here I am, in the midst of huge life changes and I find myself looking for butterflies more frequently. How interesting, though, that the object that helps bring calm to my mind is an object that embodies change. The butterfly who must go through a period of waiting...before it can become what it was intended to be.

In a book I'm reading (When the Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd) the author reminded me that the butterfly is often used as a symbol for the soul or psyche. So again, when my soul is in most need of respite the exercise of watching butterflies often brings peace. And it is in the stillness and the "waiting" that I am blessed with closer connection with God. And I feel Him reminding me that while I wait (for now) He is still active in my life. I am loved and not forgotten. And the unchanging God is of the universe is continuing to change me into who I am intended to be.