Legacy

My grandmother (on my dad's side) is in her final days. I have mixed emotions as I reflect on it.

On the one hand, I'm sad because it's my Grandma...my own flesh and blood. A quarter of me is her. Without her, there wouldn't be a me. It's sad to think that I won't see her again.

On the other hand, she's lived a long and full life. She's in pain, and she lost her husband (my grandfather) over a decade ago. To think that she'll be freed from pain and reunited with Grandpa, her husband of 49 years before his passing, is a beautiful thought.

But mostly, I think of the legacy she leaves behind. To be honest, I didn't see her all that often and wasn't that close with her. But the impact her life has made is obvious. She and Grandpa had 9 kids and over 30 grandchildren, along with some great grandchildren so far, and I'm sure more to come. I can't even remember the names of all my cousins. Never could, even as a kid when there were fewer and I saw them more often.

Among her kids and grandkids are pastors, people who've gone on missions trips, and others, like myself, who are devoted to serving God in whatever capacity he's called them to. She didn't just have a lot of descendants—she passed on her faith to them. And they've continued to pass it on. Her life, even as it fades away, will live on through all these people touching more and more lives with God's love. The butterfly effect.

I have this image of her standing before God in heaven with Grandpa, with pictures surrounding them of all these faith-filled lives left in their legacy. That's what brings tears to my eyes. To think of the difference one person (or two) can make to leave their mark on this earth.

Now, I'm still firm in my desire not to have children. But I still want to leave that kind of legacy. And I believe that I can, thanks to this wonderful place God has called me to work. As I edit curriculum to help children, youth, and adults grow in their relationship with Jesus, I'm touching lives, too. Not in as personal a way, but in the way God has called me to.

I hope that when I'm the one about to stand before God, there will be many images of lives he's changed through my work, of a legacy of faith I've left behind.

"I want to leave a legacy 

How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?

Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?

I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy."

- Nichole Nordeman

Sacred Cow

I can't remember if I've blogged about this story before, but I just thought of it and felt like sharing it, because it shows the impact of a caring, selfless gesture.

It was 8th grade, and our class went on a field trip to the Boston Museum of Science. Which, as any good museum field trip does, ended in the gift shop.

At the time I was very into holstein cows. And there, in the gift shop, was a beanie baby cow. I thought it was so cute, and I really wanted it. But I didn't have any money. (My mom wasn't the type to give me money to spend in over-priced gift shops...)

There was this guy named C.J. in my class, a very nice guy who in high school went on to be a great class president and I'm sure is up to wonderful things now. He had $20 to spend, and he'd picked out a big glow-in-the-dark ball and one other item that together added up to $20. But when he saw my plight, he put back his glow-in-the-dark ball and spent some of his money to buy me the cow.

It wasn't a romantic gesture or anything. Just a nice thing from a friend who saw how much I wanted that cow.

C.J. could've bought that glow-in-the-dark ball and ignored my wants, and no one would've blamed him. It's not like I was starving and needed food. It was just a silly cow. But he selflessly disregarded his own wants to put me first.

Fifteen years later, I still have that cow. Would he have kept a giant ball all these years? Probably not. Fifteen years later, had he done the selfish thing, no one would've cared one way or the other. But he did the selfless thing—a rare decision for a middle school boy. And fifteen years later, I still think back on that incident often and am reminded to put others first. You never know what kind of lifelong impact you can make by buying someone a beanie baby cow.

Grace

I’ve always been a big fan of grace. Back when I thought I wanted kids, that was my girl’s name of choice.

I guess it’s because I need so much of it, and yet have such a hard time giving it to myself.

I’m a very goal-oriented person with a lot of lists and spreadsheets and plans. And lately I’ve learned to give myself a little grace in some of those areas. I like my house clean, but the world won’t end if I don’t vacuum one week. Especially if my floors don’t even look messy. And who cares if I don’t read as many books as I wanted to this year? If I stress myself out trying to do it—what have I really accomplished? Or, when my page-a-day puzzle calendar puzzle is more stressful than fun...who cares if I cheat a little? The point is that it's supposed to be fun.

The pendulum can swing too far—where you let things keep sliding and have no goals. I don’t think that’s a big risk for me, but I’m watchful of it. But if you’re feeling stressed about the long to-do list ahead of you—see which things you can cut out this week. Give yourself some grace.

Why?

About a year ago, I was put into a leadership position at my work. Which was a great honor and has been a great joy. But I’m young, and I have a lot to learn about leadership.

Peanut, inspiring pup that she is, taught me one lesson. I’d actually heard a couple much wiser leaders at work make comments to this effect before Peanut helped me learn it firsthand.

The point I’d heard was that in leadership, it’s important to understand why. For example, if someone asks for a deadline extension, understand why they want it. Is there an unrelated task they think they need to do before the deadline in question, and that task really doesn’t need to be done? Do they think there’s more due on that deadline than you’re expecting?

So here’s what Peanut did. It was the middle of the night, and I woke up to her whining. She was standing on the dresser. (She has a stool next to it so she can get up there to look out the window.) I told her to stop whining and get down. She kept whining. More and more insistently, I kept telling her to stop whining and come to bed. Finally, I woke up enough to realize she was whining because in the dark, she didn’t know how to jump on the stool and get down. The reason she was whining was because she couldn’t do the very thing I also wanted her to do! So I turned on a lamp and she got down.

A speaker at a leadership conference gave this example: two girls are fighting over an orange. The mom sees this, cuts the orange in half, and gives each girl a half. One girl throws out the peel and eats the orange. The other girl throws out the orange and uses the peel to bake something.

When we don’t understand why, waste happens. When we do understand why, we may be able to make everyone happy without even having to compromise.

Perspective

The story of Peter walking on water (Matthew 14:22-33) is one of my favorites, because every time I read it I see things in a different way. One thing that struck me recently was Peter’s focus and perspective.

When he gets out of the boat, it’s already windy. There’s already waves. But he walks confidently toward Jesus.

When he gets scared, it’s after he’d already started walking. He’d already seen what focusing on Jesus could do. But he lost perspective.

I’ve seen what Jesus can do in my life, too. But like Peter, sometimes I get distracted by the problems and fears surrounding me. And I need to remember that problems and nothing when I focus on Jesus.

He’s given me all the power I need. And he’s already shown me what can happen when I keep my perspective on the power, rather than the problems.

King David

Here’s the thing that amazes me most about King David: he was anointed king years before he actually became the king. He knew God’s plan when he was a musician playing in the king’s palace. When he was a lowly shepherd boy slinging rocks at a giant. When the king tried to kill him (over, and over). When he lived like a fugitive. When he had the chance to kill the king.

All that time, David just waited. He knew God’s plan. He knew it. But he waited patiently. He didn’t turn around and sling a rock at Saul. Or kill him when he caught him taking care of business in a cave. 

I remember going to a writer’s conference a couple years ago and Jerry B. Jenkins answered an audience question about what he’d tell his young self if he could. Jerry said, “I’d tell myself, ‘you’re going to be very, very lucky.’” And I thought, “I wouldn’t want to know.”

Because if I knew that I was going to rule a country or sell best-selling books…I wouldn’t be patient about it. I’d try to make it happen sooner. I’d try to rush God’s plans. If I knew now that 10 years from now I’d be doing X (assuming I liked plan X), I’d try to make it happen in 1 year. The Bible says David was a man after God’s own heart. And with the exception of a few really bad decisions in there, he showed it over and over again. But one way that I’ve often overlooked in that is his patience.

 Sometimes I feel like I want a spoiler of certain things that will happen in my life. But thank God, he hasn’t shown them to me.

Healthy Choices

If you thought this blog was going to be about healthy food choices—hi, my name is Ali, and I am a carbivore. Now that that’s out of the way…

Over the last year or so, I’ve done a lot of self-discovering. One thing I’ve realized is that I’m a lot more introverted than I ever realized. And I’ve learned things I need to do—or not do—to respect who I am. I’ve realized it’s okay to say no to something you really don’t want to do.

For example, I’ve been invited to a few parties by people I barely knew—at which the person I barely knew would be the only person I knew at all. There was a time when I would’ve thought, “I should go. It will be good for me to stretch myself.” But I realized that’s only a good reason to do something if there’s a compelling reason to be stretched. So I said no to those parties, knowing they would exhaust me and I would feel awkward the whole time.

I’ve also had to re-evaluate some of my ministry commitments in light of what was best for me. I had to back down from some things to pursue new callings. And even though in many ways the new callings are going to be harder and more outside of my comfort zone, they’re much better for my emotional health. I’ve learned I can make choices about how to serve in an emotionally healthy way.

I’ve had to unfriend or hide people on Facebook in order to take care of myself. I’ve seen firsthand how much better I feel when I exercise daily and sleep on a regular schedule. (Though somehow, I manage to make excuses about the exercise thing…) I’ve learned that speed-reading through the Bible in a year leaves me empty and dry, but super-slow reading through 8 chapters in a year and really meditating on them makes me sense God’s presence more and more.

I’m not saying this to advocate making selfish decisions. My point is simply that it’s important to know who you are and making godly decisions in light of that. That doesn’t mean that if you hate action movies, you should always say no to watching them with your significant other, who loves them. But it might mean that if action movies replay in your head and fill you with fears, you find ways to cope with that.

And if it’s a decision that really has no bearing on anyone else, and it’s not a matter of choosing to sin—do whatever you want. Don’t go to the party. Read the Bible the way that means the most to you.

Because if you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll burn out pretty soon trying to take care of others.

Turbulence

When I flew home at Christmas, I had the scariest flight experience of my life. Most of the flight was smooth, but as we began our descent we hit some turbulence. And this wasn't just a few little bumps. The plane was bouncing all over the place. You could see people's heads bobbing up and down. At one point the plane was on its side, and you could tell it wasn't because the pilot was trying to make a turn.

The plane felt completely out of control.

And of course, the only thing I could do in that moment was pray. I couldn't take over the piloting, and even if I was an expert pilot, it wouldn't have made a difference. I couldn't stop the air currents from causing the turbulence. But I had a lot at stake: Dunkin Donuts awaited me.

Well, the extreme turbulence continued through the entire descent. Even as the wheels hovered just a few feet off the runway, ready to touch down, the plane felt out of control. People clapped when we landed safely.

I'm someone who definitely likes to feel in control. I do a lot of planning ahead. I map out how each day should go. I arrange things just the way I want them. I have 16 dog-shaped erasers on my desk at work and when a co-worker turned two around so they didn't face the same direction as the others, I noticed within a couple of working days and rectified the problem.

And in the airport just before the flight, I'd been writing in a journal about my control issues. And that sometimes, I needed to learn to let go. That there were some things I just couldn't control and shouldn't try to.

So, chalk that turbulence up to God giving me an experience to cement that principle. When I was in a situation where I felt out of control, it was completely instinctual to go to the One who could bring control. The One who really was in control all along.

Now I just need to learn to give him the flight plan.

Moment

"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." —Psalm 118:24

Lately I've been thinking a lot about being present. Not that this is new for me. Like many women, I struggle with enjoying the moment I'm in...always thinking about what I'm going to do next and trying to do too many things at once.

I've been reading Jesus Calling for my devotional time, and this is a recurring theme. Several weeks ago (February 25) it said "Do not bolt into the day like a racehorse suddenly released. Instead, walk purposefully with Me, letting Me direct your course one step at a time."

The verse that introduced this blog came to mind then, and I thought...it's not just the day the Lord has made. Maybe I need to break it down further. This is the moment the Lord has made. I don't want to let it slip past me.

One reason I love to go to hot yoga class is because it forces me to embrace the moment. In yoga, you have to give so much focus to the way you're moving your body, the breathing, the balance, everything...you can't leave that moment. You can't get distracted. Much more so in hot yoga, in a class with other people, than when I use a DVD at home. This is a great practice for me.

I'm training to be a volunteer where I'll be working with people who've experienced trauma. Last week in training we talked about vicarious trauma - when you move from empathy to sympathy after dealing with so many victims of trauma and begin to experience the same emotions and reactions as the original victims. The trainer talked about various strategies to avoid and/or cope with this. One thing he talked about was being able to remain in the present. He talked about a few ways to do that but one thing that stuck out to me was to focus on the things going on around you. What do you smell, hear, feel, taste, and see?

I've been applying that to my life when I feel like I'm getting too far ahead of myself...because this principle applies in many situations, not just vicarious trauma. How many times do I miss what's going on around me because I'm living in a past or future moment? When I realize that's happening, I stop, take a deep breath, and focus on my senses.

Mother Teresa once said, "Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin."

Ms.

I can't remember a time as a kid when I didn't just dream of being married. That was my number one goal in life, especially once I hit my teen years. I daydreamed about my husband, kept a journal for him, prayed for him, set up a "marriage display" in my bedroom. On the few occasions where someone dared to raise the idea that I might not end up getting married, I was terrified. How could I possibly live if God had called me to be single?

It wasn't like the typical little-girl-dreaming-of-her-wedding-day kind of thing. I actually thought very little of my wedding day. I never put a pillowcase on my head and pretended to be a bride. I didn't think about what kind of flowers or cake I might want. I didn't keep a binder like Monica Geller's. I didn't care much at all about the wedding day. I just wanted to be married.

Well, I got married. And 5 years later, I got divorced. That was an outcome I'd never thought possible.

So now, I'm single again. And people will ask from time to time if I'm dating, or if I've thought about getting remarried, and so on. And while I'm not as opposed to the idea of remarriage someday as I am to the idea of having kids someday...I really don't desire it. If I never date or marry again, I can picture myself being quite happy with that.

I've gotten to a place where I love my solitude. 20 minutes in Walmart and I am just itching to be away from people. Granted, Walmart shoppers are a particularly obnoxious and unaware bunch. But when I unload my cart and sit down in my car, I turn off the radio (if it was on...I often prefer to drive in silence anyway), I turn off the vents, and I just bask in the silence for a few moments before I back out of my parking space.

On one such occasion, it struck me. I really love being single. Not just tolerate it, or have found peace with it. I prefer it. And that's not just because my marriage was less than ideal. It's because I am so autonomous. Deciding when to eat dinner and what to cook is all up to me. What food am I in the mood for? The fact that it is invariably some type of carb-on-carb meal doesn't have to bother anyone else. Because no one else is eating it. And I can be as anal as I want about how my house is organized. (Boy, am I ever anal.) I can decorate the way I want to decorate. I can spend my money the way I want to spend it. It's all up to me. Sure, Peanut puts in her say, but at the end of the day, I don't have to consider how anyone else would like my stuff. And I love it.

As I sat in my car in the Walmart parking lot in utter silence, realizing I love being single, I realized that perhaps...despite all my years of searching for my soul mate...I was actually wired to be single. Because I don't feel lonely. I don't wish I had a man to spend my evenings with. I love my life just the way it is.

There's this idea that if you're single, there's either something wrong with you or you're to be pitied. One Bachelor contest was mocked for being 31 and still single. What was wrong with her that she wasn't married yet by 31, said her competitor. As if being married, or at least in a serious relationship, is a better, more desirable life. And maybe it is for some. But for me...I really don't feel I'm to be pitied. Life is great!