Perspectives from a Show Dog

I was reading through some old prayers of mine this Sunday in the back of the Bible I used during my Master's program. I was struck by the differences in my perspective now, 10 years later.  At that time, I felt a lot of guilt over the ease of my life. I had been well protected, nurtured. Bad things only happened to other people, and I felt some survivor's guilt. "Why me?" I wondered. Why did I have so much when others had so little? I questioned what God's purpose was and compared myself to a show dog- all fluff and frills, but very little function. My prayers at the time reflected an urgency to feel used by God to make a difference, and fear that my life might not have any impact at all.

Then I got married, and started my very stressful and confusing job. Suddenly, I didn't have the time or abundance anymore to ask why I was so blessed. I stopped feeling blessed at all, frankly. I was feeling so much inner turmoil that my prayers became a "Why me?" of an entirely different sort. I thought many times about the trite phrase "getting out of your comfort zone" and wondered if someone in this zone could tell me how to find it so I could climb back in!  There were many, many shocks to my system. For a while, everyday was a significant struggle to get through. I discovered that most of the blessings I felt guilty about didn't actually belong to me- they had been on loan through my gracious and generous family. Now that we were on our own, everything came pretty hard. Trying to budget our money, keep our home in order, succeed in a challenging work environment, and live and work in a totally different area of town with a whole set of new disturbing experiences proved to be a lot a lot to handle. Important deadlines and responsible choices started falling through the cracks, and I felt high levels of shame for not having it "together" anymore. I lived in a state of disillusionment of the self for a long while.

Through this time, my relationship with God went in new and strange directions. He stayed faithful, and I found myself confronted with the hard truth that I had a lot of expectations about what He was supposed to do for me. I found out I had unconsciously contracted with Him, believing that if I followed the rules, He would always keep me comfortable and safe. I hadn't realized that I had bought so much into a prosperity gospel message in my heart. Because as soon as things stayed uncomfortable and stressful, I began to push against Him, trying to figure out what buttons to push to get Him to respond the way I wanted Him to respond. Nevermind that there was a recession and jobs were hard to come by but bills were not- I expected Him to keep finding special circumstances for me to thrive while everyone else struggled. And when He didn't, even though He could have, I got angry. The show dog was throwing tantrums because she stopped getting treats. And when I got angry, I got scared, ashamed, and uncertain. Whole areas of my life stopped making any kind of sense! For a while, I even prayed he would take away all my feelings- I was willing to be an obedient robot, as long as I could stop feeling so distressed. I praise Him, of course, for denying these desperate prayers.

At the end of that season, I wish I could say that I learned a lot and became a better person. I did learn a lot, but I don't think I got any better. I got used to some things, and I think I got a lot humbler. I also gained a lot more empathy for people who live on the ugly side of the tracks. Because I'm one of those people now. I acclimated to the shock of the culture that I am now a part of, and the season passed away in its own time. I have learned that a lot my angry feelings are a result of fears of my own inadequacy, that I will mess everything up for myself and it will all be my fault. Knowing what I am afraid of doesn't take the fear away, but it does give me the ability to refute it and the power to make different choices.  

During this season of my life, I found that all the things that just seemed like abundant and lavish blessings were actually vital to our survival. My ability to get through school quickly the first time around and get a well-paying job, for instance, ended up being the cornerstone of our financial solvency.  God answered my prayers and showed me that there was a purpose and a reason in all my blessings, the same way there would be a purpose and a reason in all my struggles.  He has also used me to make a big difference in the lives of my clients, my coworkers, and my church family, so I don't feel so self-serving and useless anymore.

Now, somedays, I feel more like a show dog again. I've begun to finally make sense of my professional environment, and I have days where I really enjoy what I do. I have loved motherhood immensely and my daughter is my joy.  My circumstances haven't changed overly (despite all the countless hours of energy I've put into trying to change them), but I'm learning how to make the circumstances I'm in more comfortable.

Now that we are coming back into a season of change, I have a whole new set of fears to bring before God. They are actually many of the same fears, repackaged. I'm still afraid I'll mess everything up and lead my family into ruin. But I'm no longer afraid of making a difference, or that God is going away when His blessings seem to, or that He has no function for me in His plan. This show dog is a working dog after all.

Saying Goodbye- It hurts!

So after 4 years of working full-time, I'm about to go on Maternity leave! Yay! Just a few more days, and I have about 5 months off to have, and bond with, my new baby girl. I have been looking forward to a change of pace for a long, long time and I'm actually giddy with excitement! I am one tired cookie, and the idea of getting to spend Christmastime with my family is pretty much the best Christmas gift I could ever have.

But, as with all life events, I cannot be purely excited to be off and away, even though its what I've wanted for so long. Because my heart was stolen by my clients, kids who are incredibly dear to me. Kids who matter to me. Kids who I worry about as they make this transition to work with someone else. I hope they will be okay. I pray they will be okay. And I am going to miss them. So I wrote a little bit of poetry to capture the pathos of this week- the week I've started to say goodbye, at least for the next 5 months.


I didn’t expect to miss you,


I didn’t expect to care,

I didn’t expect to feel pain in my heart when I told you I wouldn’t be there.


I didn’t expect the pain in your eyes

The panicked stare,

Or the awkward goodbyes-


I didn’t expect to wish I could stay to find out what happened next,

Or that I would worry so much about if you were going to be okay,

Or want to hug you in my arms and take you home with me- to keep both you and my baby…


I didn’t expect to feel so guilty for leaving you,

To be another ring in your chain of losses

- You deserve a better person than me, more consistent, more compassionate, willing to stick it out…


I tell myself you’ll be okay, I’m leaving you in good hands-

I tell myself I’ll forget to miss you soon and you’ll forget me, too-

But I never expected it to hurt so bad to say farewell, that you’d fear it so

And I never expected that I would fear it, too.

So many hours of frustration covered up the love that was growing for you.

Now the frustration’s gone, I’m at the finish line, and realize I’m not ready to stop running this race- but its too late.


I didn’t expect to miss you,

I didn’t expect to care,

I didn’t expect to feel pain in my heart when I told you I wouldn’t be there.

Hazards of My Morning Commute

Oh crossing guards, I respect your job; I just wish you didn’t do it in front of me.


Oh road workers, when will you return to patch up the “repairs” you started months ago?

Oh children, didn’t you see the crossing guard up there- there to keep you from jaywalking around my metal machine of death?

Oh puppies-get out of the road, you stupid puppies! Do you have some sort of death wish?

Patsy

True friends are rare, valuable, and irreplaceable. I know because I lost one this September. 

Patsy was 73 when she passed away of a sudden heart attack in the hospital on Monday, September 10th. I had just visited her in the hospital the Saturday before, when she was talkative, energetic, and didn't seem at all ready to die. The doctors weren't sure what was wrong, and she'd been in the hospital for kidney problems several times before. Last year when I visited her in the same hospital, she looked so pale and tired I'd thought I was going to lose her then. I knew she was hurting, and she told me she didn't know why God still had her on this earth. But she had recovered, slowly, and seemed to be feeling better until her most recent hospitalization.

Patsy had lived in chronic pain for years, with a variety of different medical problems that kept her from doing a lot of her favorite things. Her pain sometimes made her seem older than her years, because she hurt so much. Patsy was beautiful, stylish, and an unabashed feminist. She had intense blue eyes and beautiful shiny hair, which had turned completely white in her 30's.  

Patsy had lived a difficult life. She fled her first marriage as a younger woman to escape her husband's abuses, only to spend the next decade fighting to get her sons back after he took them away from her. I never got all the details on these events, but she often spoke about what it felt like to be so demeaned for so many years. Her experiences made her a compassionate advocate for women.

Patsy was a giver. Part of her sickness in her later years meant she couldn't have any kinds of tight clothes on her body, and that she was constantly cold, and couldn't eat most of her favorite foods. But Patsy loved to shop, and she bought very nice clothes. The way Patsy dealt with not being able to enjoy the things she used to love, such as clothes and her favorite foods, was not by becoming bitter or angry- instead, she gave these things away to other people. She gave away her clothes, bought treats to watch other people eat them, and gave small checks to family and friends for a variety of different things she would find out they wanted or needed.

I don't really know why Patsy picked me out for her love. She was a member of our church and from the time my husband began as the youth minister there, she started loving me. I could tell by the way she hugged me and talked to me that she was being more than polite. She told me later that she "loved me as soon as she met me."

After being at the church for about a year, I was going through a lot at work and I didn't know what to do or how to handle it. I desperately prayed for help, and Wanza, one of the other older women in our church, spontaneously invited me to join a new Bible study they were starting up on Tuesday nights. I think they must have been a little surprised that I took them up on it, as the other youngest woman there was in her 60's. But I needed help, and as I have so often found, women of grand-mothering age are some of the most supportive people around. A person can never have enough grandmothers. So I began attending the Bible Study, which lasted for the next two years. Patsy was one of the women in the study, and that's where I really got to know her. I loved her vim and vigor. I loved how she dressed so stylishly and always had her clothes perfectly coordinated. I loved how her eyes sparkled and how she told stories. I just loved everything about her. And she loved me.

Patsy ministered to me personally in dozens of different ways. I wasn't the only one she showered with love, but I got a very liberal dose. She prayed for me consistently and purposefully. She literally gave me bags and bags and bags of clothes, purses, and shoes that had only been worn once or not at all. She told me to pick what I liked, and give the rest away. She slipped me cash sometimes “for whatever you might need” and gave me lots of hugs.

But most meaningful of all, she really cared what happened in my life. Having been a career woman for most of her life, I think she felt like she could relate to a lot of the struggles I was going through. I could say all sorts of shocking things to her and she never judged me for them, because she had some shocking things to say, too. She seemed to see in me how she would have liked to have been in her 20’s, if she had been raised differently and been given more opportunities. Every time I succeeded, she seemed to feel like she succeeded, too, and whenever I struggled, she acted just as concerned as if it was happening to her. 

One Sunday at church in the beginning of May, I felt overwhelmed, fatigued, helpless, and sad. I excused myself to gain my composure in the restroom during the sermon, and ended up crying silently in a corner of the church library. I felt like my whole world was crashing down on me and I couldn't stop sobbing. I prayed for some help. A few minutes later (I had been out of service for at least 15 minutes by this time); I heard Patsy's voice calling my name from the foyer. She had seen me leave the sanctuary and had gotten concerned when I hadn't come back. I came out of the library, and she sat with me on the steps while I cried. I kept telling her, "I don't really know why I'm crying, “and she just nodded and put her arm around me and sat with me while I struggled to explain the deep wells of emotion I was feeling. She prayed with me, and hugged me tight, until I began to calm down. She asked me if I was pregnant, and I said that I didn't think so, but I just couldn't seem to stop feeling tired and sick. When I got my positive pregnancy results back a week later, she was one of the first people I wanted to tell.

This summer, before we took the youth to New Mexico for a week for camp, she donated money to get all of them matching sweatshirts. They still wear their sweatshirts proudly- one of the boys wore his for weeks in a row, even though it was the middle of summer. She said she had the idea in a dream, and she wanted to see it fulfilled. That was no more than two months before she died.

When she went back into the hospital in September, I almost forgot to visit her. I praise God for reminding me. My husband was out of town and I was at an all day training that Saturday. I was planning on going home and then go to the gym to go swimming. As I was driving toward my freeway exit, I saw the exit to the Heart Hospital where Patsy was staying. Patsy! I meant to visit her. So I got off at the next exit instead and went and spent about an hour with her. Even though she was the one in the hospital, all she wanted to talk about was my new baby and how excited she was for my husband and I. She told me she was praying for me and so happy for me. On my way out, I hesitated and thought, I need to pray with her. So I turned and prayed a short prayer with her, asking God to heal her body and help the doctors figure out what was wrong so she could feel better. Then we hugged, told each other that we loved each other, and I left.I never expected that that goodbye would be our last. 

           I was pretty stunned when I got the email the following Monday from the church that she had died. She seemed so upbeat and energetic when I'd seen her Saturday. Her husband's family asked me to sing a song at her memorial service. That was the hardest solo I've ever done. I sang Chris Rice's Untitled Hymn, and as I looked over at her casket, and  I knew that was the last time I'd see her for a long, long time. I began crying and my voice began to crack as I sang the last stanza: 

"And with your final heartbeat

Kiss the world goodbye 
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and 
Fly to Jesus 
Fly to Jesus 
Fly to Jesus and live!"

Although that was my last gift to her, it wasn't the end of her generosity to me. Her husband asked me if I'd be willing to go through her clothes and take what I wanted, because he knew she would have wanted me to have first pick. I've never gone through a dead friend's closet before. I bagged up everything into two piles- One pile of things I thought would work for myself or my twin sister, and another to take to the church's clothing ministry. I gave some of her pairs of shoes to a co-worker who wore her size.I gave some of her purses to other family members who I thought would like them, which they did. I gave some of her purses to other family members who I thought would like them, which they did. I didn't find a single well-worn item in her closet, nothing seemed to have been worn more than once or twice.This confirmed the suspicion I had that she gave things away almost as soon as she bought them. 

That was in September. Then we got a call just this last week from her son, who said there were a few large household items she had left behind that he thought she would have wanted us to have. I started crying when I realized I was still receiving gifts from my friend two months after her death. We'll look through the items, keep what we need, and then find another family that can use the rest.

What did I learn from my friend? I learned a lot about kindness. I still don't know how she managed to take care of so many people at once! I found out at her funeral that there was a young woman from our church who had moved away that she had written letters to weekly for years. I also know from first hand experience that she took the time to get to know the names of lives of each of the youth in our youth group, whether they knew her or not. The youth also have no idea how many monetary donations Patsy made for them to be able to go to camp and other events every year. The first time I'd visited her in the hospital, the year before she died, she pressed me into service for one of our girls who was about to go into the hospital herself. She gave me an envelope with money in it, asking me to make sure the girl got it so she could get herself a stuffed animal to take to the hospital with her to hold when she was scared. She prayed compassionately for each of our youth, especially the girls, and was a listening ear to many of the women in our church. 

Patsy also taught me about love. Patsy was not perfect. She had a lifetime of choices behind her, some she would make again, and others that I know she deeply regretted. She carried around the pain of her past with her, and in many ways it hurt her more than the physical pain she experienced every day. But she loved people, and she loved God. She taught me that people don't need to be around people who are perfect, we need to be around people who are loving. She taught me that a little compassion and kindness can reach out and extend to the most unexpected places. 

I'm not like my friend Patsy. I'm not overly generous or thoughtful toward others- I've always been much better at receiving gifts than at giving them. I have prayed to be able to have some of her generosity and kindness to be able to share. I don't think I'll ever be as good at caring for people as Patsy was, but I hope to be able to a little. If I am given a tenth of her compassion and generosity, I will consider myself blessed. 

I miss you, Patsy. You were an amazing friend to me. I'm so glad I got to know you. Thank you for considering me worthy of your love. I wish you could have seen my baby girl when she's born, but at least you got to know about her before you died. I look forward to seeing you again, and I hope I live my life in a way you would be proud of. I will try to fill in the gap you have left, but I'll never be able to fill your shoes. I love you, my friend. I'm so glad you aren't hurting anymore. 

A Long Time Without Speaking

Hello, Blogosphere. It's me again. I haven't written since this summer. Mainly because I got pregnant this spring and didn't want to tell anyone (congratulations to us!) at first, and its taken up all my thoughts and energy since. I'm due in January, so the secret has been out a while, I just couldn't figure out how to segue back into this blog. So, just consider yourself segued. Because I am trying to resurrect this little blog now. Why? Because I have STUFF TO SAY.

Pregnancy does funny things to women. For me, its sort of scraped off this glossy coating of politeness that kept me from sharing my opinions about things in real life. Suddenly I have been voicing what I actually think at work with my colleagues, and even- gasp- on the internet. A dangerous activity, I know. Especially because not everyone agrees with me on life basics, and not everyone can handle honesty when it doesn't tow the line. I actually participated in an argument on Facebook. I also got someone mad at me on a blog post. So far at work they are putting up with me (amazingly) even though I've started saying what I think. I'm breaking lots and lots of social rules.

The funny thing about this is, a part of me is relieved and thinks its about time I started telling people what I really think about stuff, even if it means conflict. I feel like a middle-aged man in that sense, who is tired of being PC and ready to just say what he wants and thinks without always saying it nicely.

I know this new found boldness scares my mom, who always taught us to be polite and tactful, and I'm not actually trying to make waves on purpose. But it struck me that politeness and tact, while helpful with newcomers to my life, serves an additional purpose of protecting me from ever really making real connections. People I see every day don't know who I am or what I think- and if they can't handle those things, then maybe we weren't really friends to begin with. Just acquaintances who share space. I want real connections with real people- and that's going to mean opening myself up for the possibility of criticism and judgement. Which hurts. But how is walking through life a stranger to my neighbors any better?

So here is a little poem I wrote about all that.

Do you really like me?

Or do you like my skills?

The way I smile and appear polite?

The way I gloss over my opinions and tell you what you want to hear?

Because now that I am opening my mouth,

I have suddenly become controversial, dangerous,

- even rude-

- even petty-

- even alien-

Which causes me to wonder whether you really liked me in the first place,

Or if you just liked how easy I was to be around. 

Summer 2012

This blog started out as a simple summer update, but became a rambling, stream of consciousness style piece about where I am right now spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. So, if you just want the summer update, just read the first paragraph and ignore the rest! 

There is a LOT going on right now. Like, muchas much! I am going to be preparing for taking on a few clients at a local Christian counseling center in the evenings (with all my free time, you know), and preparing for teaching my first GRADUATE level course in September, while holding down my full time job, and having college age summer missionaries coming to stay on my house for 4 weeks out of the summer (meaning it will have to be clean), going to Glorieta (yay!)  with the youth group for camp, going to the FIF concert in San Diego (Woot Woot!!!), and of course, taking care of my new kitten I procured three weeks ago, who is rapidly growing into a bigger, more agile and talkative kitten, as well as the dogs, that man I'm married to, and somehow in the middle of all this, maintain some semblance of sanity while everyone else in my family and friend group is hanging out all summer because they were smart enough to work at the school system instead of in Mental Health (where we do not get Summer, Christmas, or Easter breaks- that's right, students/school staff who are posting elatedly on Facebook; for most business people, summer is business as usual!).

Now, I am sorry that went in a complaining direction. The truth is, I have asked God for lots and lots of opportunities and activities in my life, and He has graciously given them to me- overwhelmingly, in fact. He has listened to my prayers and allowed me to be successful in lots and lots of things, and given me working opportunities other people would give a limb for. In a time of economic recession, I have been blessed with more jobs than I know what to do with, and more invitations to speak and sing than I can take.

As a young person, I prayed and prayed that God would use me in a mighty way, and give me purpose and a plan for the future. Now I sort of wish I'd prayed for rest and a little corner of the world all my own. People talk about "comfort zones" (a phrase I don't like because its overused, but I don't know what better to replace it with) and getting out of them- I'd rather like to find one. I don't think I know what this "comfort zone" thing is.  Every day is a challenge and I am never really comfortable.

But again, this comes back to what I have prayed for. I prayed for a different kind of life. I have prayed for opportunities to break out of the credit card and student loan debt which, sadly, identifies my generation. I have prayed for opportunities to work in a stimulating setting doing thing which make the world a better place. More than anything, I've prayed God would enable me to prepare our home to care for our future children, which means working- a lot- so we can be financially solvent enough to take care of them. God has given me opportunity after opportunity to prepare the way for them.

But He has not made it simple. He knows my tendency to do less than enough, to slack off, and to leave things undone. So He's been teaching me discipline, and what it means to keep going after I'm tired, not because I want to, but because the consequences would be so severe if I didn't. He's taught me that nothing moves without His hand guiding it, and I'm much less "in charge" than I think. He's taught me that life can be "on track" and still really hard, and that having so much doesn't mean struggles and challenges don't come. He's allowed me to experience what real despair, turmoil, and even terror feel like, so I am very aware of how people could commit major grievances and sins and "lose it,” in everyday situations. He's taught me that "how I feel" isn't as important as what I do, and often the right choices feel "wrong" because of my own emotional depletion. He's taught me I'm "as good" as the circumstances around me, and I have no righteousness on my own; push me hard enough and I will cave, like most people, into jealousy, deceit, and bitterness unless I am walking closely with my Lord. That is the most shaming lesson to learn of all. 

There is more to come, as well; He isn't done teaching me things from this period in my life yet.  I'm still trying to figure out the balance between what one can do and what one ought to do, and what it means to take care of myself when so many other people need me to take care of them. I'm still trying to figure out how to plan consistently for the future when there are obstacles in the way I can't see around. Things used to feel simple, the plan used to be simple. Work hard, marry well, avoid any majorly stupid life mistakes, and meet goals. Now, life looms ahead, uncertain. I avoided all the "big mistakes" and tried to plan things, but life still happens, even to us. And how much does God expect from me versus how much do I need to step out on faith and let him handle? 

So, here I am, standing on the edge again, not real sure how all of this will play out. I confess to you I have a real fear of going crazy because of taking on too much. But in my times of prayer and seeking of the Lord’s will, He keeps moving me forward. He is telling me to add, not to decrease, and I have hope that there is some rhyme and reason in the current chaos. Because I haven’t gone crazy yet, and if I’m going to go, I have to go all the way crazy, not just a little bit. All the way crazy means I would get to walk away from everything; a little bit crazy means having to apologize and pick up the pieces and deal with the big mess I made by deciding to lose it. And if I haven’t had a complete psychotic break by now, it’s most likely not going to happen. So I’m going to try to stay sane, instead, and go forward, believing that God has a hand in this craziness to fulfill the desires He placed in my heart, and do the mighty work He has planned in and through my life. 

            

Conversations With God

"Take it away," I begged Him. "Take away my passion for life, my opinions,
my desires, my hope,that I might be the sort of machine that files and
finishes without initiative or dreams or other things that get in the way when
I want, I need, and I feel."

"Take it away," I pleaded."Take away the conscious part of me that questions
and pleads and wonders and complains and opines,
because it has no place in my life when the paperwork piles up,
and there is more, more, more that I must do, and there is no, no, no way out but through..."

In my moment of weakness I implored this of God,
knowing simplicity to be bliss and too much thought withers the heart.
I wanted to be freed from cares because I seemed to care too much.

But my Lord is good, and as soon as I asked, I knew He would answer "No."
"No, I will not put to sleep all I have made you to be. I have made you for more than today, more than this burden, and I will not lose you to it though you ask to be lost."

"I am your servant, Lord," I replied. "If you prefer my sorrow to my silence, it will be as you wish. I have no will to refuse you or go against you, because only You hold the keys to life."

But still my heart was disturbed, because I thought, "I have no promise, no covenant with you like Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, that there will be any good in my mortal life but only solace in heaven, which makes the rest of my earthly life seem like a desperate pitstop indeed." I despaired of living because I could see only hardness in the road and many sorrows.

But still my Lord sought me out, and heard me in my silent urgency.

"My Lord, did you make me only for sorrow? Because I have no promise from you, no guarantee that things will improve. Nor do I condemn or betray you if the life you have for me is one of tragedy, because its Yours to use, and Heaven is more than enough.

"But oh Lord, I am a very little person, and the idea of living for the rest of my life the way I hurt now, well, I don't know if I can bear it. To you, a thousand years is like a day, but to me, Heaven feels very far away."

And what did my Lord say? Did He condemn my lack of faith? No. In His great kindness, My Lord reminded me, "Daughter, I have so many promises for you. I promise that I hear you and I answer your prayers. I promise there is a hope and a future for you. I promise that I made you for joy, hope, and love.When have I left you, My daughter, and when have I allowed you to fall? Have I not cushioned every blow life has wraught you, and provided for you much more than you need? Sorrow lasts for the night, but joy comes in the morning. I know your name, child, and it was on My lips when I died at Calvary. These promises are greater than the first I gave to Abraham and his sons. You need not fear because there is much good coming to you."

What a mighty, loving, and kind God I serve. In my sorrow, I will wait on Him for the joy of my salvation, knowing He will bring healing, not just one day on Heaven's shores but where I'm at today.