Blessings

There's a song on my soundtrack that I've seen several times in people's Facebook statuses lately. It's "Blessings" by Laura Story.

The first time I heard this song was right after workcamp, when we were driving to Dan's family. I was still coming out of a depression that had arisen out of a culmination of struggles this year, the big straw being the loss of Buttercup.

And this song just got to me. The chorus goes: "What if your blessings come through raindrops? What if your healing comes through tears? What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know you're near? And what if trials of this life are your mercies in disguise?"

Other lines I love: "The pain reminds us that this is not, this is not our home."
"What if my greatest disappointments, or the aching of this life, is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?"

It's such a great perspective. And so hard to have when you're in the midst of those raindrops and tears. I don't know how well I can hold onto the perspective of the chorus when I'm at my lowest...but I do think I can cling to the fact that it's a reminder that this is not my home. It's a reminder of the greater thirst this world can't satistfy.

We will never be satisfied with what this world has to offer. Never. Because it's not what we were made to long for.

Misunderstood

I've often felt misunderstood. Like no one really gets me - or if they do get me, they don't like what they see.

In elementary school I coped with it by convincing myself I was an alien from another planet. No wonder I didn't fit in with the humans, I told myself. I wasn't one of them.

In middle and high school, I coped with it by deciding it was my identity to be different. I avoided watching Titanic because everyone else liked it. Wherever the crowd was headed, I was heading the other way. Which worked for a bit, but I got lonely.

In college it was different. Everyone was a Christian, everyone was looking for new friends, and everyone lived together. College just worked.

But college ended in three years and I was back to square one, trying to find my place in this world. And I made friends here and there, but I've never stopped battling that feeling that no one really likes me for who I am.

There was one exception: Buttercup. Buttercup and I shared so many personality traits, despite the difference in body hair and number of legs. That's one reason it's been so hard to deal with her loss. I feel like I lost the one living thing in this world that ever really, truly got me. And absolutely loved me for it.

But here I am, alone in the world. I seem to be the only woman in Colorado who didn't get the "I can't wait to have a baby" gene. And one of the few women who doesn't want to participate in some crafty type of women's event where we quilt or scrapbook or crochet. Or go to jewelry/make-up/purse "parties." (I'm sorry, these are sales pitches, not parties.) And my sensitive taste buds often leave me feeling like people perceive me as a child. And no one seems to have the time for friends, anyway. (Or is it that they just don't have time for me? ) But dogs, they've got all the time in the world. And they're never short of adoration.

So I sit and wonder if I'll ever make a real two-legged friend here. Someone who likes me enough to initiate time with me, not always the other way around. Someone who doesn't try to pressure me into wanting kids. Someone who wants to understand me, not change me. Someone who shares her struggles and listens to mine. Someone who doesn't make me feel like I'm the odd one out in a world of women who are all the opposite of me.

If Only

"If only, if only," the woodpecker sighs,

"The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies."

The wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,

And cries to the moon, "if only, if only."

I learned this song from Louis Sachar's Holes, an absolutely beautiful story (and it's in movie form if you're not much for reading). I was reminded of it tonight when a friend on Facebook posted that she finds herself drifting to the land of "if only." Ah yes, such a familiar land. I've been there many times.

But this little song is a great reminder that our "if onlies" may be to our detriment. I'm reminded of when Jesus said that if a son asked for a fish, his father wouldn't give him a snake. But I think there's a corollary there, too. If the son asked for a snake, his father wouldn't give it to him either. (We're assuming this is in Jesus' culture before people could keep snakes in aquariums as pets.) Sometimes we ask for things that are just plain bad for us. And it's God's great mercy that keeps him from answering every prayer with a yes. (And...cue Garth Brooks...)

Just this morning, I was in the land of "if only." I was thinking about these cute blouses I'd seen in a store window recently, and thinking, "If only I had money to buy those blouses." Now, would something terrible happen to me if I did have money and bought the blouses? It's hard to fathom physical harm coming to me. But it could feed into my narcissism and materialism. Or it could have some other totally unforeseen consequence that only God knows.

We must put aside our "if onlies" and focus on the blessings we've been given. Those are the things we can count on as God's perfect gifts for us.

Teachable Moments

I was in college, observing in a children's ministry classroom. The teacher asked, "What are some things you might do that would make your parents unhappy?" There were the usual, "steal, lie, make a mess," and then a little voice piped up, "kill myself."

The teacher was a bit taken aback, but quickly composed herself and said, "yes, that would make your parents unhappy" before continuing on with the next lesson point.

What was going on in this 4th or 5th grader's mind that the thought of suicide even occurred to him in that context? Was he contemplating it himself? Did he recently lose a family member to suicide? I'll never know.

Now it's quite possible that the teacher talked to him privately about his comment after class. I don't know, and I don't want to put her down without knowing. But I remember feeling appalled that she would just brush off a comment like that and move on because it wasn't on the topic of obeying your parents (the lesson's intended content).

Believe me, I know how hard it is to deviate from a plan. I know how much work it takes to prepare for a lesson, and then to feel the tension when it doesn't go the way you'd expected. I know how scary it can be to be put on the spot with something you hadn't prepared for.

But I feel like the teacher needed to camp there for a bit. Dig deeper. Get feedback from the other kids. Talk about healthy ways to handle bad emotions. Would the kids have gotten to the point of obeying their parents? Maybe not. But I believe the lesson they would've learned would've been so much more valuable, because it was personal. It would've showed that the teacher cared. It would've dealt with a felt need.

Teachable moments happen often. Sometimes they're big ones like that, ones that might derail your class entirely. Sometimes they are small ones that will just take you on a two-minute tangent. Either way, they're worth it. Pay attention to those opportunities to see a kids' heart and guide that child right where he is - even if it doesn't fit your plan. And pray that God will help you to be ready when those unplanned moments come.

Nine Years

I keep thinking about what I was doing nine years ago today. Packing up all my stuff. Sleeping in my bed at my parents' for the last time before college. Getting ready to say goodbye to Buttercup for a semester. Eagerly thinking about what it would be like to meet my roommate. Anxious to get to Wheaton, settle into my new room, and be on my own for the first time. Nervous about doing my own laundry.

The 18 year-old kid dreaming of what college would be like is long gone. She's mastered the laundry, gotten rid of those hideous mom shorts (what really makes me sad is you know I picked out my very coolest outfit for the first day of college...), formed a great friendship with that pocket-sized roommate in the picture, and learned a whole lot about the "real world." The Cheez-It stash on that shelf has been replaced with Xtra Cheddar Goldfish.

(Tangent: Oh man, I just realized how much I miss those shoes. I adored those shoes. So cute, so comfortable...)

If I could go back and tell that kid in the picture one thing, I don't think she'd have listened. (Betcha didn't see the end of that sentence coming!) I know this because the advice I would give comes straight from a Bible verse I hung on the wall a couple months into college. "Above all else, guard your heart - for it is the wellspring of life." (No, I'm not going all Kasey Kahl on you...I'm going King Solomon on you!) It's so true, and so much of my vibrancy has been lost by not guarding my heart...but there's no way I could've understood that nine years ago.

This is the problem with giving advice. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, you just have to learn from your own mistakes. People say all the time, "If I could go back and tell myself xyz..." But the fact is, the you from back then probably wouldn't have listened either.

In nine years I've learned a lot. And sure, some of it has been through the wisdom of great Wheaton professors or sage bosses. But a lot of it has just been through life experience. And there's no amount of advice-giving that could've taught me the same things.

2 Minutes

I can't remember where I read this suggestion, but I believe it was a marriage book I read when we were dating. The suggestion, however, is a great life tool for any area of your life. Here it is:

If something you need to do takes less than two minutes to do, do it now.

The book talked about things like recycling the tuna can you just used, loading a glass you had a lemonade in, or picking up a tissue you attempted to throw in the garbage but missed. This little secret, it suggested, could spare you a lot of fights about things piling up and going undone.

That may be true, but marriage aside, I think this is just plain good advice. For work, for a house you occupy by yourself or with a roommate, for personal goals, etc. It can be so overwhelming when a to-do list gets longer and longer - even if half the things on the list are two minute (or less) jobs. So save yourself the agony of feeling overwhelmed by keeping the little things off your plate.

Assumptions

The entrance I usually use at work is a double set of doors. There's a scanner for my ID card on both the first and the second set. For the first several months I worked there, I scanned my ID on the first one, stepped through the doors, scanned my ID again, and went on to work. It baffled me that there were two scanners even though there's nothing but a garbage can and about 12 square feet of carpet between the two sets of doors. But I saw a red light on the scanner, so I dutifully scanned.

But then one day I was walking in right behind someone. He scanned his ID card on the first door, opened it and walked through, and then opened the next door and held it for me. No scanning. And I realized that in all the months of assuming I needed to scan my ID, I'd never once checked to see if the door was really locked. A little while after that, a sign went up on the second scanner, saying it's only to be used for people arming and disarming the system. Oops.

I often think about that when I walk through that same set of doors. I work at a creative place, where my job is to create. And yet here I was, so set in my assumptions about how something mundane worked that I didn't even check to see if it could be done a different way.

It's only semi-difficult to think outside the box when you're trying to think outside the box. But to recognize the areas where you didn't even realize you were in a box? That's the mark of a true creative.

Painless

A while back I heard the deejays on a local Christian radio station talking about this new medicine that would make you not feel emotional pain. It might have been hypothetical - I tuned in late. At any rate, they were talking about whether or not it would be right to take such a medicine, and the benefits to feeling emotional pain.

Listening to that program was quite memorable, because it made me grapple with the concept, too. Life without pain does sound tempting, for sure. But what I've learned is that when you do things to numb the emotion of pain, there's no barrier specifically blocking just that one emotion. Your brain doesn't discriminate the good from the bad. When you block emotions, even if you start out blocking the bad ones, the good ones eventually follow suit.

Life without any emotion is certainly safer than life with its ups and downs. But are the ups worth the downs?

Positively

I know I'm not always a positive person. I complain and whine, for sure. I've deviated from my high school way of answering "How are you?" with "Awesome!" every time - even when I first woke up after having my wisdom teeth removed. My first several months of blogging (early 2006) were largely complaint blogs. But I do try to look on the bright side and have a good time.

There are some people who never seem to have anything positive to say. Every conversation with them, every tweet or status update, is some new complaint - sometimes overt, sometimes thinly veiled.

And I have to say, it really makes me not want to hang out with those people. It's not fun to be around negative people! It's different if it's a friend who is having a bad day and is therefore negative...of course I'd be there for that person. But if it's the kind of person that walks around with a cloud over his or her head Eeyore style, I just lose my desire to be their friend.

I was challenged in this area recently. My dad played a song for me, "She's A Butterfly" by Martina McBride, that he'd wanted to play at my reception for me. He said it sounded like it was about me. The lyrics say things like, "You should see her fly, it's almost magical" and "Everywhere she goes, everybody knows she's so glad to be alive." And I could totally see that describing me a while ago...but I feel like I haven't been that person in a long time. And I miss it. I want to be the butterfly my dad remembers.

The Not-Good-Enough

Ever since I first tasted a baby carrot, I thought they tasted way better than regular-sized carrots. I mean, the fact that you don't have to peel them is great, but there just seems to be something about the flavor that's less...dirty.

So one day I decided to look up what baby carrots are, exactly. Were they carrots that had been picked before they grew to be full-sized? A whole different species of carrot that only grew that big? What I found astounded me.

There's a whole bunch of regular-sized carrots that are all bent, knobby, broken, and ugly looking. And as a result, they're not good enough to sell. People won't buy ugly, bent carrots. So farmers were always having to throw out most of these not-good-enough carrots. (They used a few to feed livestock.) This could be a huge percentage of their carrot crop.

And then one day this farmer named Mike Yurosek thought, what if we could make something of these carrots? So he whittled them down into smaller carrots, nice smooth ones of consistent size, and sold them. The idea obviously took off, and now baby carrots sell for more than regular carrots. Yurosek took the not-good-enough and made it into something even more valuable than the original.

Ever since I read that story, it has captivated me. It especially captivates me on the days when I feel like I'm not good enough. It reminds me that God can take all my not-good-enough, whittle it down, and turn it into something more valuable than anyone would've ever guessed.

Escalators

I had this random thought today as I drove home from work: sometimes life feels like you're trying to run up an escalator that goes down. Which is possible, but takes a lot of energy.

Then I thought about how before the fall, there was no toil in work. There was still work, but no toil. I bet that was more like riding up an escalator that goes up.

I remember one time our youth group went to Washington DC. The escalators to the subway there were SUPER long. Like, twice the normal length. And a couple of the guys in our group made it a challenge to get all the way up a down escalator. (Until some security guards made them stop.)

That's the image I have in my mind of this life in this broken world. (Minus the security guards.) It's hard work. Lots of energy. But we press on to win the goal for which Christ has called us heavenward. Because one day, we'll get there.

First Impressions

When we arrived at my workcamp in June, the dirRextor (director named Rex) greeted me and Dan and walked us around to introduce us to everyone. I knew pretty quickly that there probably wouldn't be anyone who got on my nerves (and there wasn't), but I had no idea the bonds I would form.

Most notably, my friendship with Phuong-Hieu. I remember when the diRextor introduced me to her. She was bending over behind a counter and popped her little head up to say hi. When he told me her name, I was a bit lost as to how to say it. She showed my her name tag, on which she'd written a phonetic key, but I was still a bit lost. And I had a hard time understanding what she said when she showed it to me. I figured that while she seemed nice and peppy, I probably wouldn't get very close to her because it was hard to understand her in that initial conversation and our first staff meeting.

I pretty quickly grew accustomed to her accent and could understand her well. Though it took a full day or two before I could say her name without pausing to think it through first. (It's pronounced Fung-Hue. I kept wanting to say Fung-Hwee so I had to mentally correct myself first.) From there, our friendship blossomed quickly, full of sarcasm, fun, and some pen hostages. When we left workcamp, I missed a lot of people, but she topped the list. I told her to move to Colorado, but she thought it would be too cold for her. Tough it out, Phuong-Hieu!

I could've stuck with my first impression and steered clear of her. I could've given up because of a language barrier (and not even really language, she speaks English fine)...but I'm so glad that I got to know her. And steal her pens.

I learned a valuable lesson as I built a great friendship: don't linger in your first impressions. Don't count anybody out, for any reason. You might just be missing out on getting to know a really cool person.

Why?

My niece Hannah, at age 21 months, is in the "why" phase. When my family was all together, we tried different tactics to avert her "why" questions. Sometimes we simply answered them. Sometimes we  used words we knew she wouldn't understand to offer her answers, hoping to frustrate her from continuing to ask. Sometimes we gave the same answer over and over until she gave up. Sometimes we just didn't answer. My personal favorite was when I preempted a why that I knew was coming by asking her first, and then she didn't know what to say. (I also liked to randomly ask her why even if it wasn't preemptive.)

Often she'd start a conversation with "what's that?" and point to something random. Usually something she clearly could identify on her own, like a bagel or a toy. Then, when you told her what it was, she'd ask "why?" This was a particularly difficult "why" to answer. Why is it a bagel? Um...cuz they put the ingredients in that make it a bagel?

She asked other questions, too, like "What's the buzzy fly doing?" (To which my mom responded "buzzing" and then I said, "and flying. The description really said it all...") But mostly she stuck with her favorite. I always thought toddlers asked why because of a genuine curiosity about the world. Which maybe they do sometimes. But I came to realize she just thought it was fun to say. Maybe because it's one of the few ways she knows how to strike up a conversation. (On one occasion, she went up to a couple family members and with no context at all asked her standard question. I don't think she got a response that time...but it does help make my case.)

But despite my realization that she wasn't always genuinely curious about knowing why, the chorus of "why's" throughout the week got me thinking about how little I ask that question. Too often I just accept that things are the way they are without considering: why do I do it this way? Why does my company do it this way? Is there a better way? Why do I believe this? Is it really biblical, or just cultural?

I think we all could use a little more "why" in our lives. Except Hannah, she's got plenty as it is!

Dog Safety

It was a moment that has replayed in my mind countless times. Both dogs sat on my lap in the passenger seat, heads blissfully catching the breeze out the window as Dan turned a corner. And then in the blink of an eye, flop! My dog Biscuit fell right out the car window.

Thank the Lord we were on a quiet side street and there were no other cars. Thank the Lord Dan was only going about 10-15 mph as he eased out of the turn. Thank the Lord he had quick reflexes to brake right away when I cried out my brief but effective message: "DAN! BISCUIT!!"

I watched helplessly in the mirror as Biscuit wisely tucked and rolled, then popped his head up, befuddled as to how he'd ended up in the road. (Truth be told, I was a little befuddled too. I'd had an arm around him, and I hadn't felt the push of him jumping.)

As soon as Dan stopped I got out of the car, careful not to free Peanut, and went to gather my little man. But Dan was also calling him from the driver's side, so Biscuit ran around that side. In his confused state, he couldn't quite tell where Dan's voice was coming from, so he stood in the middle of the road looking around. (Have I mentioned how thankful I am that there were no cars around?) I ran toward the front of the car calling him, and he started to run around the front of the car from the other side. As soon as he saw me, his pace quickened. He was sure glad I was there to save him from this strange situation!

For about five minutes, Biscuit's life was changed. He kept his head inside the car with just his nose barely peeking over the edge. His paws were firmly planted on my lap. But then he started to creep up closer and closer, until he was putting his paws up on the window sill (a habit we expressly forbid, but Biscuit has a hard time following our rules on that one).

We got him checked out by the vet and he was fine. We figured that was the case, as he hadn't been acting hurt or dazed, but I wanted to know for sure. I also did some Googling about dogs falling out of car windows. And I saw a lot of stories about people who'd experienced similar situations - some not ending so favorably.

We've now implemented a rule that our dogs must be leashed while they are on car rides, so they can stick their heads out the window and we have something to tether them down with. But I also found in my Google searching items like this one, that really help keep your dogs safe. (I've put 2 on our wishlist!)

I've learned my lesson. I'm not going to ride with the windows up - the whole fun of a car ride for a dog is feeling the breeze - but I am going to take precautions so that there are no more car flopping incidents!

Soundtrack

If you saw my Facebook posts boasting about my Dad's awesome birthday present, you may have wondered what it was. Music is particularly meaningful to my Dad, so I made him a soundtrack to my life. Not just songs that make me feel nostalgic, but songs that have really touched and changed me. I included a booklet that told him the story behind each song. I'm not going to go into all that here, but I thought I'd list the songs and see who shares favorites from my list - and what songs would be on your soundtrack.

1) Because He Lives, written by Bill and Gloria Gaither, performed by Kristin Chenoweth (elementary school)

2) Place in This World, Michael W. Smith (1996-1998)

3) Table for Two, Caedmon's Call (2002-2003)

4) Redeemer, Nicole C. Mullen (January 2004)

5) I Dare You to Move, Switchfoot (Summer 2004)

6) I'm Moving On, Rascal Flatts (Summer 2004)

7) Resurrection, Nicol Sponberg (Spring 2005)

8) For the Moments I Feel Faint, Relient K (Spring 2005)

9) I Believe In You, Steven Curtis Chapman (Spring 2005)

10) Golden, Switchfoot (2006-2007) (The title track of my soundtrack and my blog...you can read about that one here)

11) The Chasing Song, Andrew Peterson (Summer 2008)

12) Our God Is Up to Something Good, written by Joel Guinness (Summer 2008)

13) Whatever You're Doing, Sanctus Real (September 2008)

14) Boston, Augustana (2008-2009)

15) Let It All Out, Relient K (May 2011)

16) Blessings, Laura Story (July 2011)