Service

I always find it interesting to watch the dynamics of a missions trip where you're serving alongside people you just met. You've got the people who are just super loud and excited and outgoing, and are instantly popular. You've got the people like me, who prefer to be quiet and behind the scenes in these settings, and find it hard to mingle. And you've got people who aren't naturally outgoing or loud, but try to be because they want to be popular.

I've been there. I've been the one forcing myself to be someone i'm not just to be popular. It doesn't work. In fact, it looks really forced and awkward if that's not how you naturally are. And worst of all, at least in my experience, people who do that aren't doing it to generate energy and build impacting relationships. They're doing it because they want to be liked. This is the danger. This is when your focus becomes centered on yourself.

I'm not saying this to judge. Like I said, I've been that person. And even though I'm not this time, I'm self focused in other ways...like retreating to get some time away from the crowds that are so uncomfortable to me.

But when I do mingle, I've made it a point not to try to be someone I'm not. It's obvious that it's fake, and it's not a good way to be. God made me the way he made me, and those outgoing people the way he made them, so that when we come together as a team we can serve him the best. If we were all the same...it just wouldn't work right.

Punctuation

From time to time at work, this question floats around: If you were a punctuation, what would you be and why?

We've got a ? who always questions things, a ... whose always wondering what's next, and a & who likes to include everyone.

And me? I've decided I'm a period. I like things defined. Clear. Decided. Done. I'm set in my ways. Once I form an opinion, that will likely be my opinion forever. Period.

How about you? What punctuation are you, and why?

Willingness

I've been working on Buzz Curriculum, on Gross Me Out (Grades 3 & 4). One of the questions I wrote into it really got me thinking.

The passage is on this story where God asks Ezekiel to do a number of weird and gross things (bread cooked over poop, anyone?) to send a message to Israel. One of the things he has to do is lay on his right side for 390 days, then flip over and lay on his left side for another 40 days. No stretch breaks, no cable TV...just stillness, soreness, and boredom.

And he does it! But the question I put in the lesson is something along these lines: Explain whether you'd be willing to be that uncomfortable for over a year if God asked you to.

My honest answer? I wouldn't be. The Sunday School answer queen in me wants to say "Of course, because I'd do anything God asked me to do!" And truth be told - if God asked me to I might even bake my bread over a fire fueled by cow poop. Maybe. As long as none of the poop touched the bread.

But lying on my side, bored and uncomfortable, for over a year? I just don't think I could do it. (And did I mention that 8 oz of poop bread a day is all the guy got to eat during that time?) I'd make excuses. I'd weasel my way out. I'm not saying that's the right thing to do. Obeying God is always the right thing to do. But I highly doubt I'd do that particular task willingly. I'm way too into my own comfort for that.

What's your honest answer - and if you truly think you could do it, how would you bear with it?

Pep Talk

Does anyone else give themselves pep talks? Like when you have a lot to do, "Just keep going, you can get through it all." Or if you have to do something hard, "Come on, you can do it."

I think I do this on a daily basis.

And I've noticed that when I pep talk myself, I call myself "Al." I've been thinking about this lately, and I wonder if it has something to do with my sisters. As kids, they mostly called me "Al." I wonder if subconsciously, I'm associating their encouragement and support with my effort to boost my own morale.

Confessions

I have a confession to make: I am an incredibly selfish person. It manifests itself in all kinds of ways. But there's one thing in particular that I feel should be so easy to fix, and yet it hasn't been.

When people say "Hi, how are you?", I almost answer with just a "good" and no reciprocal question. I first noticed this in middle school, and decided I needed to correct my habit. I thought it would be pretty simple to correct. Just teach myself to ask "And you?" Two little words to show I care. How hard could it be?

Well, seeing as it's been 13 years, I'd say pretty hard. Maybe it's because deep down, I don't feel like that question expresses genuine concern. But I don't think that's all there is to it. For example, the barista at Fireside Cafe recently asked me how I spent my weekend. That's a much more involved question that shows genuine interest, not a status quo question which will be answered the same way 99% of the time (regardless of the truth). (Though I hear in Japan they actually stop and have a conversation when someone asks a similar question.) Anyway...after telling her about my weekend, it wasn't until I was almost back to my desk when I remembered I should've asked her what she did over the weekend.

It's not that I don't care about people. It's just that I'm so selfish that I just get caught up in talking about myself. So I'd like to apologize to anyone I've offended by my behavior...and please know I really am trying to grow.

Identity

One morning when I was a freshman in high school, the vice principal came and pulled me out of biology class. He looked at me sternly and lectured: "You skipped detention yesterday. That was your last chance - now you're going to be expelled."

I was horrified. Here I was, this teacher's pet, goody two-shoes, and I certainly hadn't been given a detention, much less used up my "chances." With a panicked look on my face and a chipmunk voice, I cried, "I didn't have detention!" Something about my countenance made the VP quickly realize he'd made a mistake. Turned out there was a senior at my high school named Alin Bennett - pretty close to Alison Bennett - and they'd grabbed the wrong kid. Alin and I would never have been confused if you saw us together - I'm about as pale white as they come, and was a teeny little freshman girl, he was a huge black guy that could've (and maybe did) play linebacker for the football team.

A few months later I got called to the office for another discipline problem, but quickly brushed it off, saying, "Oh, you mean Alin Bennett." A couple years later, my mom saw him in the arrests section of the newspaper. Good thing the police didn't confuse us then!

On the other hand, there was a time in college where I had a couple books that were WAY overdue. Months. I calculated the fine at about $20. But when I went in to pay, they said I didn't have any fines. I later met a staff member named Alison Bennett, and in conversation found out she'd been slapped with my $20 fine. (Which she got out of when she told them she hadn't checked out a book in years.) That was definitely a good time to have my identity mixed up!

As I was reflecting on these experiences last night, I was thinking about identity. About who I am. (It's clearly much more than my name, maiden or current!) I feel like I have a pretty good grasp of who I am. I always have, really. Even as a kid I had a pretty set personality. When I liked something, I went straight to obsession. When I didn't like something, well, everyone knew that, too.

And while I know I have lots of room to grow, I'm pretty comfortable with who I am at my core. And even though I consider myself a pretty open book with the events of my life, my opinions, and my feelings, I think there are few people who really know me. There are times I've been hurt, feeling like once people have gotten to know me they realize they don't really like me...and I think as a result I kind of hide Me under a shell. No, I'm no Alin with his expulsions and arrest records...but I've felt from a young age that even though I like me, others don't find me likeable. So I wrestle with insecurity and confidence, all at the same time.

But ultimately, like it or not, I am who God made me. Accept it or don't, but I'm gonna be the me God made me to be.

Wonder

Recently I was working on a lesson for Buzz (Raiders of the Empty Tomb) about Jesus raising Jairus' daughter. I was reading through the passage, trying to brainstorm an interactive, meaningful way for kids to dig into the Scripture, and there was something about one of the verses that caused me to wonder about something.

And then God inspired me. What if that was what the kids did? After each verse, stop and think about what they wonder about it. What questions they have about it. So I read back through the passage again, pausing after each verse to do just that. And for every verse, I thought of at least 3 things I wondered about. I decided that would be a great way for 5th and 6th graders to explore the passage - especially since the point was about faith in God.

I absolutely love this method of reading Scripture now. It really gets you to think about what you're reading in a new way. Will you find answers to most of your wonderings? Probably not...but that's where the faith comes in. The enriching part of this exercise wasn't in getting answers, but in thinking about how much bigger God's plan is than what we can understand.

Treatments

When I was in 3rd grade, I started a Save the Animals club and kicked out my mom when I caught her spraying ants. But my love for creatures of the insect variety ended shortly thereafter. Hence my declaring war on Miller Moths.

It should come as no surprise if you know my Dad. But for those of you who don't, I thought I'd enlighten you.

When bugs landed in our pool but were still alive, squirming to get out of the water and be free...well...we didn't free them. We didn't even kill the mercifully. We applied a "treatment." Treatments were different torture methods my dad and I devised. Like taking the net and trapping the bug under it at the bottom of the pool. Watching him search for an escape until he suffocated. Or putting him in a plastic Easter egg with water, and soaking it in the sun until the water boiled him to death. Or putting him in said egg with just a little water, and shaking the life out of him.

My dad and I also enjoyed gathering the fake lady bugs into an envelope until we had like, 50, and then dumping them in the toilet and watching them all swirl together to their doom.

So when I was complaining about bugs the other day and my co-worker said that camping in my parents' backyard this summer would be buggy, I had to laugh and say, "Oh no. Not in my dad's backyard."

No...he's got giant traps to catch the horseflies, so that problem is eradicated. He has this special garlic spray to spray around the perimeter of your campsite, and mosquitoes won't cross it. And after many years of our annual "burning of the worms" ceremony (where my dad took a blow torch to their nests in our trees), those worm nests won't come near our property.

It should be noted that before my dad bought the traps for the horseflies, he walked around the yard wearing a hat with a blue cup drenched in sticky bug-catching stuff on it. Because horseflies are drawn to the color blue. He wore it when he mowed the lawn, too. He looked ridiculous - but it was all in the name of trapping horseflies.

So if you're wondering where the gene comes from to wage war on bugs...it's a Bennett thing.

Writing on the Wall

People often use the concept of "writing on the wall" to express a desire to have God communicate his will with them directly. There was one time where I experienced writing on the wall firsthand.

I was in college, in a relationship with a guy I shouldn't have been in a relationship with. He went to another college, Concordia St. Paul (aka CSP). It was far away, and I wanted to be with him so badly. So one cold winter night, I went on a walk to pray about it. And by pray, I mean tell God to make my way happen.

As I approached a playground, I asked God to give me writing on the wall to show me what to do. Then I frantically searched the snow for a message. Nothing. I decided to sit on the playground equipment. And when I sat down, my butt freezing to the metal, I was looking directly at one of those tic-tac-toe boards playgrounds sometimes have. Only for whatever reason, instead of Xs and Os, there were letters. And the letters were random in the first column. But the second column said ALI. And the third column said CSP.

Boy, was I psyched. I'd asked for writing on the wall, and I'd gotten it. Clearly, God's will was for me to transfer to CSP. Or so I thought. As it turned out, things didn't work out with the guy and I stayed at Wheaton.

But I was thinking about that recently, and about what the story in Daniel 5 is really about. So I looked it up. And I realized that the writing on the wall had nothing to do with God declaring his will. God was declaring his judgment, saying the king would lose his kingdom soon because he hadn't measured up. Daniel even says this: "You have not honored the God who gives you the breath of life and controls your destiny!" That about summed it up for me, too.

Looking back, I can say with confidence that the letters that spelled out ALI CSP were indeed God's writing on the wall. But he wasn't communicating his will for me to transfer; he was communicating his judgment at the life I was living. He was telling me it needed to stop.

It's so easy to taint God's voice with our own bias.

Roller Coaster

I haven't blogged in a long time, but I think I'm ready to get back on the blogging wagon. But first, I thought I'd blog about my life for the past month or so.

2011 has been a roller coaster year. Coming in off the tail of my Dad being released from the hospital after 3 weeks in the surgical ICU, I was rejoicing that January 1st marked 1 month since his aortic dissection. While he still had a lot of recovery to do, he was out of the most critical period.

January 1st (well, technically just a few hours before midnight) was also exciting because I won a Macbook at Group's Bombastic Bingo Bash. Yes, 2011 was off to a good start.

Fast forward 17 days. D-day. A nearly 10% lay-off at Group left me reeling as I lost many of my closest work friends and tried to figure out how to manage this new workload. Adjusting to a new boss, a new culture, a new team. Not all of it was bad, but it was a lot of change, and it was hard. It still is hard.

Then in March, we decided to get a new puppy. A third dog. But 24-hours into adding Biscuit to the family, Peanut got really sick and had to go into the ER vet, where she stayed for 2 days and ultimately had surgery. Dan and I worked to develop a routine that would accommodate house-breaking a puppy, monitoring his behavior, trying to keep our crazy recovering Nut calm, handling three different dog foods, and administering 9 total dog prescriptions, 3 times a day. And we did it.

Then just a couple weeks after Peanut was fully recovered, just as owning three dogs wasn't so crazy...Buttercup's heart gave out, and we had to make the decision to put her down. Two days after my birthday.

Meanwhile, I was battling stomach problems resulting from an antibiotic I was taking for my own health problem, and shortly after that I got a sore throat that turned into the cough that never ends. Which, it turns out, was the cause of me pulling something in my upper back and causing excruciating pain yesterday (which has thankfully lessened to mild pain today).

Needless to say, this is one roller coaster I'm not enjoying and am eager to get off. I was kind of down before Buttercup died, from everything else that had happened...but that set me over the edge. I've been dealing with anxiety, feeling emotionally overwhelmed, and motivation-wise, paralyzed. It's been taking so much strength to do each little task, and the slightest negative comment or set back pushes me over the edge. That's why I haven't been blogging. I had to eliminate all the unnecessary tasks I could.

And then yesterday something happened. I was in the shower and a song started playing in my head. It was "Let It All Out" by Relient K. The words filled my head out of nowhere: And you said I know that this will hurt/But if I don't break your heart, things will just get worse/When the burden seems too much to bear/Remember, the end will justify the pain it took to get us there.

So I put all my Relient K CDs in my car CD player and started listening to them on random on the drive to work, starting with that song. It's one of a few times in my life where I felt too weak to compose my own prayers, but music was a way to cry out to God, the words of my heart artfully composed by his musical servants.

I was different after that. I wouldn't say healed, but not so dejected. And then my boss called me into her office yesterday and let me know about some assignment changes that would ease my heavy work burden. The yoke is starting to lift.

I don't know what this roller coaster of 2011 has next. I'd like to think it's over. But I do know this: those song lyrics reminded me of a time I'd written them in my journal. Which reminded me of something else written in my journal, just before the lay-offs, when I knew they were coming and thought I might be a victim. I wrote about how I'd reacted when everything went so awfully for me at my old job, and how I didn't want it to be like that. I wrote, "So no matter what happens...I want to trust in God's plan and his faithfulness."

But oh, how quickly I forget.