Scripted

I've written before about my realization upon re-reading Psalm 139:16 that God is a better writer than me. But I'm seeing some ways God has helped me grow to more than just head knowledge of that.

There's this scene in the movie Must Love Dogs where John Cusack's character and his buddy are talking about women. And it goes like this.

"I think women have the whole thing planned. Really, the whole thing. An epic narrative in their heads. You know my theory about this? When you meet, they have the whole story written. But you don't get to read it. But if you go off script..."

"...right? They write you out of the story."

I saw that movie years ago and laughed at that dialogue because I recognized it as truth in my life. And I thought about it more recently as I reflected on how God is a better writer than me.

I used to have a script for my whole life. When I'd get married, what kind of job I'd have, when I'd switch to a different job, how each day would go...everything. Every aspect of my life was scripted out in my head, a carefully planned agenda (that never seemed to stay on script anyway). And I would do whatever I could to keep things on script.

And I recently realized it's been a long time since I've had a script. I mean sure, I plan out what I hope to accomplish in a day, but I don't try to foresee every little detail. I have no five-year plan. I have no one-year plan, even. I've always struggled with living in the present until one day I realized I was doing it! God changed me so gradually, so subtly, that I began to write less and less of my life script and leave that to him.

And that has led to a lot more peace and contentment than I ever had when I had a script.

I'm sure I'll face temptation to pick up my scripting pen again at some point (or several). But I hope when that temptation comes, this peace and contentment will help me keep the pen on the table and trust in God.

Out-of-control

On Saturday, March 1st, I went on a police ridealong with Officer Osilka from 6-9 pm. It was relatively uneventful, mostly patrolling. A couple routine traffic stops.

And then just 24 hours later, at around 7:30 pm on March 2nd, Officer Osilka was shot during a routine traffic stop. Just like the ones I'd been on with him.

When I first heard about the shooting, it was unclear if the officer was even alive. And they didn't say who it was. But I knew Osilka was on duty that night, so my first thought went to him. I frantically tried to gather more information, and then I read the words: Officer Osilka. Shot.

By the time the 10:00 news came on they were already reporting the good news that he was expected to survive. And yet that news seemed so vague to me. "Survive" could still mean paralysis, brain damage...or he could be totally fine one day. And what if they were wrong? I did a lot of worrying and praying.

That night I had a choose-your-own-adventure-like series of dreams about the incident. That I was there and hid under the dashboard and he died because of my lack of help. That I was at his funeral. That I was there and gave a perfect description of the shooter, and they were able to catch him because of my witness testimony. That I was there and jumped out of the car and took off my jacket and held it on the wound to stop the bleeding, and saved his life. Pretty much every possible outcome in which I was involved in the situation came to me in my dreams.

And in the days that followed I was a wreck. Now, even though I wasn't actually there, my subconscious had provided me that vivid imagery of the shooting. I was having flashbacks when I hadn't even been there. Because if it had been one night before...I would've been. And would I have been able to do something? Was my lack of presence the reason the suspect(s) were still at large?

I thought back to the things we'd talked about on the ridealong. Had something I said somehow jinxed him? Had I caused this by putting bad thoughts out there? I dealt with so much guilt. I brought him a card and a gift but it just didn't seem like enough.

A counselor helped me see that all my thoughts - the good ones where I imagined myself having been a help in the situation, and the guilt that maybe I'd caused it - all tied back to one thing. It was an out-of-control situation, and my mind was trying to make sense of it by inserting myself into the situation. Good or bad, my mind was trying to put the situation within my control. (No surprise that I have control issues...)

It's been 2 months now since the shooting. I still think about it every time I pass a cop car that has pulled someone over. But the visuals are fading away. I still pray for him often, but now I've refocused my prayers to be more about thankfulness.

You see, at first I was just praying for his recovery, for his family, for the safety of the other officers as they bravely tracked down the perps. And those were important prayers. But a few weeks ago as I drove past the police station for the first time since I'd dropped off his gift the day after the shooting, I prayed a prayer of thanks for everything that had gone right.

Thanks that he survived. Thanks that he was wearing a bullet-proof vest. Thanks that the shooters shot him in the chest where the vest made a difference...not an unprotected place. Thanks that he DID have a ridealong who was far more useful than I would've been...a trained police officer friend from Florida. Thanks that the perps had been caught. Thanks that in the midst of these two evil people who committed this unspeakable act, Loveland was full of good people who'd showered their support on him with cards and concerns. The good people outweighed the bad. Thanks that his experience had given courage to a little girl about to undergo surgery. Thanks that he was going to make a full recovery. Thanks for his courage and integrity as he spoke about returning to the force in an interview I'd read.

Refocusing my prayer helped me see just how much God's hand was in all of this. He didn't stop the bad people from doing bad things...but he protected Osilka and even brought good out of it. And he protected me by not having me be there that day. It helped me to see that this wasn't the out-of-control situation my brain had been processing. Osilka had been in God's hands all along.

2013 in Review

As each year wraps up, I like to reflect back on it and consider the milestones and significant events from that year.

I don't have much to say about 2013. It was a blissfully uneventful year - and I'm grateful for that. I lived the year very contently, with no roller coaster of ups and downs of life.

Here are some of the biggest things I can think of:

• At work, we faced a lot of staff changes on my team. This has been good and bad, as we've gained some great people but had to deal with transition after transition. But overall, I think God has used all this to bring together a wonderful team of people.
• I found a new church! I love LifeBridge and have gotten involved in serving there in the children's ministry. I love the kids in my class and am so grateful for the wonderful community I've joined.
• I started volunteering with Alternatives to Violence here in Loveland. It's a great agency and I'm so proud to be a part of it.
• Dunkin Donuts opened in Denver! I went on opening day, and despite the hour plus drive each way, the 45 minute wait in line, and the fact that they don't know how to properly make donuts in Colorado, it was a great experience.
• I developed a love for crafting. I've always thought I was creative with words and the kinds of ideas I come up with at work, but not a craft-making kind of person. But as it turns out, I really enjoy crafting! I'm planning a lot of great crafts for this year.
• One way God has really challenged me, which I've blogged about a few times, is in loving my neighbors. My literal neighbors, not just the broad sense Jesus talked about. Sometimes my neighbors are loud and annoy me. Sometimes they blow smoke right into my window. And this makes me not want to love them. But God continues to help me see them as people he loves and made in his image...and people I need to treat accordingly.
• I bought a lot of stuff in 2013. And while I am immensely thankful to God for the abundance to do so, I've been convicted that I'm growing too materialistic. God is teaching me to be grateful for all that he's given me and to slow down my shopping and appreciate all that I already have.
• I've determined that running may not be the best form of exercise for me. Most of the time when I run, my rib comes out of my spine and $30 later everything is back in place. But $30 per run is not really feasible...so that stinks. Poor Peanut loves going for runs, but it's probably not going to go back to being a daily habit for me.
• I celebrated 5 years at Group. I love working there and I'm super thankful God has put me there! My hope, if it's God's plan for me, is to work there until I retire or die. So if I retire at age 65, I'll have worked there 41 years!
• Mostly, I've just been really happy. Although I passed the recommended wait time after my divorce (wait one year for every four years of marriage, meaning I hit it in 2012), I haven't been on any dates and I've really been loving the independence. And after such a healing year in 2012, in which I cut out some things in my life that needed to go and focused on God to help me recover from my marriage and divorce, 2013 was just a great year. 

I think that's really it. Like I said, not an incredibly eventful year, but an incredibly blessed one. Now, let's hope this year is just as peaceful. I realized that 2005 (graduating college, going through a break-up, starting my first post-college job, feeling very lonely), 2008 (a really rough job change, starting my job at Group), and 2011 (big lay-offs at work, getting Biscuit, Peanut's surgery, losing Buttercup, deciding to get a divorce) were all pretty up-and-down years so I'm hoping I can break the every-three-years-stinks pattern.

New Year's Resolutions

I always think about whether or not I want to do New Year's Resolutions each time the calendar creeps toward December 31. Some years I have made very concrete resolutions. Other years I've made more general ones like learning to accept myself and be me. I know of other people who've picked a word that they want to focus on in the next year, like "grace." I've also heard the idea of making an anti-resolution - stopping something you've been doing that's unnecessary. For example, "I resolve not to finish a book I'm not enjoying."

This year, I've decided to do things a little differently. I'm going to make 12 resolutions of daily habits - and focus on one per month. For example, floss, do yoga, write for 10 minutes, and so on. For the most part (other than the exercise ones), I'm trying to keep it to things that can be done in under 10 minutes. After all, most resolutions can make it for ONE month.

It takes 23 days to build a habit, so if it's something I want to continue to do daily that's an option. (The things I'd like to do that with are starred.) But I don't want to feel obligated to do that - after all, the compounded time of 12 things that take 10 minutes each is 2 hours a day! My main reasoning is, there are a lot of resolutions I could set, but if I try to tackle them all at once I'm setting myself up to fail.

Here's my list:

Jan - read devotional*

Feb - yoga* (*habit to form is some kind of exercise)

March - play keyboard

April - eat a fruit

May - run

June - play with dogs 10 minutes*

July - do a Spanish lesson 

August - floss*

September - blog*

October - play guitar 

November - write in my novel for 10 minutes

December - write appreciation letter

Baby, It's Date Rape Inside

I love listening to Christmas music, with the exception of a handful of songs that irk me. "Baby It's Cold Outside" is a song I've always liked, musically. I love male/female duets, and I like the tune.

But I started thinking more about the lyrics lately and it's pretty much a terrible song about a guy who doesn't get that "no means no." 

I never really thought about it that way. I looked at it as, the girl is trying to do the right thing but what she really wants is to stay. Kind of an internal squabble with herself.

But then there's lyrics like this that blatantly disregard her response:

"I ought to say 'no, no, no sir.'" - her

"Mind if I move in closer?" - him

I mean all throughout the song he disregards her concerns by citing the weather as a reason to stay, but in this case he is specifically doing the opposite of what she is saying.

And then there's the guilt-tripping:

"At least I'm gonna say that I tried [to say no]" - her

"What's the sense in hurting my pride?" - him

"How can you do this thing to me?" - him

Because if you turn a guy down for sex, you'll hurt his feelings. So say yes, even if your gut tells you you need to get out of there. Um...no.

He also guilt trips her by saying, "Think of my life long sorrow...if you caught pneumonia and died..." - not really showing a concern for her own life but just that he'd suffer if she died.

But the line that really gets me is this one:

"Say, what's in this drink?" - her

"No cabs to be had out there..." - him

So he spiked her drink with, at the very least, more alcohol than she intended, and at the worst...well, some kind of drug? It's not clear since he completely ignores her question. Although her following line "I wish I knew how...to break the spell..." could be referring to hormones or the impact of alcohol/drugs.

So...maybe this song will become another one in my handful that I turn the radio off for.

Seeking my dog's siblings

I know this is a long shot, but I would love to arrange a play date for my dog Peanut with her biological siblings.

Peanut was born on 7/20/09 at Ruff Pine Kennel in Pine Bluffs, Wyoming. Her mom, Cassidy, was a yorkie and her dad, Danny, was a maltese/shih-tzu. I adopted her from Pet City pet store in Fort Collins, Colorado.

I know that Peanut had one sister and a few brothers from her litter. I would love to have her get back together with one of them, see if they remember each other and how their adult features compare.

I know the odds are that the right people will never see this. But if you happened to have the same wish as me and googled this, please comment below!

Joy of Worship

There was this girl at Elmbrook, about my age, who sometimes led worship when I was there. Her name was Bethany.

I loved when Bethany led worship because she always had a HUGE smile on her face. A lot of times when Christians sing worship songs we look like we're constipated. But not Bethany. She exuded joy in worship. You could tell even from the balcony that she was thrilled to be worshipping the King of the universe.

Bethany's example changed my own attitude and facial expressions when I worship. Now when I sing songs of praise, I smile as big as Bethany did. Because it is an honor to connect with my amazing God in that way. When I sing about his holiness, it fills me with excitement. I get to have a relationship with a holy God!

"Problem" Children

This week I had a Sunday School training with Karl Bastian, the Kidologist. The topic was discipline, and I was eager to learn. That's one of the hardest things for me as a Sunday School teacher.

I walked out with a lot of great tips. Grace based tips. Which I love, because I'm a big fan of grace. All new ideas I'd never thought of, heard of, or tried before. I'm eager to try this out.

But the thing that struck me the most wasn't so much a tip as it was a perspective. Which was pretty much the perspective that framed all the tips.

You know those "good" kids? You know, the ones who bring you Christmas gifts and say please and thank you and never disrupt class? You probably aren't going to make a difference in their life. Why? Because their lives are already on a good trajectory. They usually come from good homes, homes where parents are doing a wonderful job teaching them about faith and how to live like Jesus. If you weren't in their lives, they'd probably still turn out to be wonderful Christians.

You know those "bad" kids? The ones who interrupt your class with fart noises and start chanting "no more rules!" (the latter actually happened to me last week). The ones who make you want to use duct tape as a disciplinary measure or pull your hair out because you can't? This is your greatest opportunity to make a difference in a kid's life. Not by punishing them or yelling at them. Not by striving to change their behavior. By partnering with them and being their friend and helping them understand what it means to be a Christian. By helping shape their heart and showing them that Jesus loves them—when they probably feel like no adult loves them.

Karl accomplished his goal (at least for me): to make us want those kinds of kids more than we want the "good" kids. Because if I want to make a difference in a kid's life, it's not going to be in the angelic kid's life. It's going to be in the life of an unloveable 5th grade boy that I loved anyway.

Dead Samaritan?

This isn't a new struggle for me, but it's one that has come to light again recently: how do you find the balance between personal safety and what Jesus taught about the Good Samaritan?

See, on Saturday I took a self defense class. The first half of the day was lecture, all about awareness and how to avoid situations where you'd have to use the defensive tactics we learned in the second half of the day. We learned that sometimes, even someone just asking you what time it is can be a "verbal bump" to distract or engage you and set you up for bad things.

So this left me confounded. If I can't even do something as simple as tell people what time it is, how am I supposed to be a good neighbor the way Jesus defines it? Or, should I take the risk and assume they are a good person who genuinely needs the time?

But then what about helping people in more blatantly risky situations? Like if I see someone stranded along the side of the road? Today's sermon was, coincidentally, about the good Samaritan. And my pastors talked about how no one stops to help people on the side of the road because there are hundreds of other people driving by and everyone thinks, "well, one of them will help." But someone has to be the one to stop. Am I immune from that just because I'm a woman?

And what element of this comes down to trusting God for protection? I mean I don't think trust means walking down a dark alley alone at night - that's probably more like testing him. But when it comes to helping someone who might actually need help or might be conning us?

But then at self-defense class we also watched a clip from Silence of the Lambs, based on the real way serial killer Ted Bundy got his victims - putting on a fake cast and pretending to move furniture with a broken arm. A woman would come by to help him and she'd end up on the back end of the furniture, getting into the truck. Clearly in that situation, it's a mistake to help the guy. But how do you know if it's a genuine case of someone needing help?

Now, I help people. I volunteer as a victim's advocate. I'm doing a flood clean-up day next Saturday. But those are planned avenues of helping. What about the times when you just see someone in need right then?

Because the fact of the matter is, the Samaritan didn't walk down that road looking for a robbery victim to help. It wasn't in his plans. He just found one and helped. And it was risky. It was a dangerous road, as evidenced by the band of robbers who'd injured the victim in the first place. And for the priest and Levite who passed by, helping the man would've meant becoming ceremoniously unclean and losing the ability to go to the temple until they went through the cleansing period. There was a cost besides the monetary cost of putting the guy up in an inn. There was risk. And yet the Samaritan took it. And Jesus' implication is that the priest and Levite should've, too.

So...what do you think? Where's the balance? How do you know whether to be an alert woman avoiding becoming a victim, or to be a good Samaritan to someone who genuinely has a need? How do you act as a good Samaritan without ending up a dead Samaritan? I'd love your input.

This Is My Offering

The church I grew up in didn't pass offering plates. Instead, we had boxes in the back of the auditorium and you could drop in your money as you came or left.

I liked this because it enabled more anonymity. You could give more secretly, not wondering if the person to your right or left judged you for letting the plate pass you or thought too highly of you because they saw you slip in a large sum. Plus, I felt like it showed more faith on the part of the church. They didn't need to shove a reminder to give in people's faces. They believed God would sustain the church as people freely gave. (At least, that was my perception.)

And when I read about the collection for the Tabernacle (Exodus 35) in college, it seemed familiar. People just brought what they had and gave it. No one passed a plate for people to drop their jewelry and goat hair into. And, in Exodus 36:5-7, we see that Moses had to tell people to STOP giving, because they'd reached their budget. (I wonder if any churches today would turn away funds if their budgets reached 100% before the end of the year? But I digress...) Obviously this non-compulsory giving campaign was successful even among those who'd just been worshipping a golden calf.

I've never been to another church that collected offering that way. Every church I visited in college (which was many), every church since then, has passed a plate. And there's a part of me that misses the boxes in the back of the room. (They did bring them forward for a prayer of dedication each service, so it wasn't totally separate.)

But, someone at work recently said she likes the passing of the plate during the service because it incorporates giving as an act of worship. It's not separate from the service, it's included because giving is one way we worship God. 

At LifeBridge, we pass a plate. But they always talk about how giving is an act of worship. They don't do it in that kind of way where they make you feel like a wicked rotten person if you don't give anything. They present it as another opportunity to worship God. And I do like thinking of it that way. 

I was raised to give 10% of my earnings from the time I got a $1.00 a week allowance. I remember getting my yearly giving statement saying that I gave $5.20 that year and thinking, "wow, that's a lot of money." (For this reason, I now prefer to give in cash and not in any particular assigned envelope, so that I don't develop a sense of pride for how much I gave. If I had that pride when I was giving $5.20 a year...I'm clearly susceptible to pride in this area.) So I never felt like giving was difficult...it's just the only way I know. I wouldn't say I gave because I felt obligated to. But, I also wouldn't say I considered it an act of worship. I just was obeying God.

So, I think there are pros and cons to both ways. And while I'll always have a part of me that misses the boxes in the back, I've come to realize that no matter how it's collected, when I give I can do so with an attitude of worship.