Yancy

Yancy was 2 years older than me. I was in 6th grade, he was in 8th- but I knew the first time I saw his super tan skin and white-blond surfer hair- he was the one for me. When you live in Florida- particularly in the 80's- there was no look that could beat the surfer look. Alas- we had little contact since my middle school separated 6th grade from everyone else. We were in our own separate building, quarantined from the truly interesting kids- especially the surfers. It was like pergatory- no longer in elementary school but not quite in middle school. We might catch glimpses of the older kids as we passed through the main building on our way to the cafeteria but usually they were behind closed doors locked away in class. But on this day it was as if the stars aligned and fate would have its way- Yancy was sent to the 6th grade building right as we were changing classes. I was in the hallway with my best friend, Molly, as he burst through the double doors- his hair blindingly bright in the sun. Not only was he right here but on this particular dayI had brought my camera to school. It is amazing how quickly two middle school girls can concoct a plan- mere milliseconds and we knew exactly what to do.
We followed him at a safe distance down the crowded hallway carefukl not to lose him( made easier by the hair)- he finally turned and went into a relatively empty classroom- Molly called out "Yancy!" and when he turned around I snapped his picture. Then we ran.
I will admit the last phase of this plan needed a little work- but overall it was a success. He looked like a deer in headlights in the photo but it captured his shiny white hair perfectly. So now I had a picture of him, knew where he went to school, where he lived, I even knew what his dad did for a living ( not hard since he owned the coolest surf shop in town, of course). By all appearances, Yancy and I were pretty tight. Except for one thing- I had never actually spoken to him( something I had effectively secured as permanent since the picture incident).

A lot of us approach our relationship with Christ the same way. We know who He is, who His Dad is, what He likes and dislikes, we have the Book He's written prominently displayed in our home- we can even quote some of the more famous things He's said...but we've never actually talked with Him.We may have prayed a sinner's prayer- never considering He might want more than a confession. He might really want us- not just for us to bow low and profess our unworthiness but for us to move from there into His arms- embracing His worth as our own, His love as sincere.
Mine and Yancy's relationship was short-lived- no surprise. Those imaginary ones usually are. You can't sustain something as intimate as a relationship, be it with God or a spouse or even a child- where both are not fully invested in knowing the other and being known- with all our failures and inadequacies- bringing both what we have and what we lack to the table. Fortunately with God- He is fully invested and has everything we lack.

Puzzles

It is summer and at my house that means puzzles. We spend our evenings and spare time in the afternoons putting together 1000 piece jigsaw puzzles. We do a 4th of July themed one every year and usually one or two others. Brandt and I typically do the majority of the puzzle with a little help from everyone else. For some reason, though, the puzzle we did this time had everyone participating. At one point I left my house with four teenage kids working on this puzzle- not going to the pool or playing video games or watching TV. Each one was working on a different section - one on the buildings, another on the water, someone else on the fountain, and Brandt was piecing it all together. When I got back home- the puzzle was finished. Amazing. Brandt and I can spend a couple weeks working on one- but all of our combined effort produced a finished result in a matter of days.
It reminds me a lot of how the church is supposed to work. We are all working on our section of the "puzzle". We can't always tell how our piece fits in with everything else but we work at it anyway. Fortunately God knows exactly how everything is going to fit together to create what He has in mind. And imagine if, like at my house, everyone would stop with all the distractions and focus on their "piece" how quickly we would see progress. The Bible says "The harvest is plentiful, but workers are few." He needs us to go- not to other countries necessarily- but to our grocery stores and offices and schools and PTA meetings- and see the harvest all around us of hurting, broken people that need The Answer to all their heart's deepest needs. We are important- our piece is necessary for His vision to be complete.

Father's Day

Father's Day is tomorrow. We have celebrated it early at my house because we are having to split the day up somewhat tomorrow. I was thinking about Father's day and how it is supposed to be about dads- but really for my house- it's about the kids. Brad will get a card and a meal and not much more excitement than that. But the very fact that my kids have a dad they want to celebrate is a gift in itself for our home.
Our kids absolutely rely on the fact that he is here- not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually present for them. Sure he hates heights and water and bugs and (at times my kids will say) fun...but mostly he's pretty great. We don't like to tell him too much- I mean, he already thinks he's Iron Man- if his head got any bigger- what would we do? But the truth is- I don't know what we would do without him. Sure we have to clean our own gutters since he won't climb the ladder and I've saved him from a spider on more than one occasion..but he's still our hero. He is the only person in this house that can sew on a button or iron anything or get the printer working when it stops. He's also the only person that knows these kids as well as I do- that shares every memory of their lives with me- that remembers the tree frog jumping on Kenzie's head, Brandt's ER visit the day after Christmas, and Halle's love of the Wiggles. Who else would find recalling all their childhood stories as funny and interesting as I do? Only Brad. As I write he is taking a picture of Halle asleep on the couch. Do you know how many pictures of this child sleeping we already have? But he, like I, finds it perfectly logical to take another because we don't have a picture of her sleeping in this EXACT position wearing these same clothes, do we? Because he is a Father. I know there was a time he wonderd if he would ever be a good one, if he could ever be good enough for our kids- but I am here to tell you ( and most of the time our kids would agree) he is the best dad we have ever known.
So am I giving him all the credit for our home? Umm no- because, of course, it all comes back to my incredible ability to pick a man!

Suffering

"God's love cannot force, constrain, push, or pull. It offers the freedom to reject that love or to love in return. It is precisely the immensity of the divine love that is the source of the divine suffering. God, creator of heavens and earth, has chosen to be, first and foremost, a Father."
-Henri Nouwen

Can I really add anything to that? Nothing but what I have witnessed with my own children, and even that pales in comparison. It is but a shadow, but it's all I've got!
It's amazing when your kids are young how they love you. You can be horribly grouchy to a 3 year old and within seconds they will be back in your arms like nothing happened. Such forgiveness and grace in their innocence. They love you in such a way that makes you want to be worthy of such love and devotion. So you set out to become a better person for their sake. You change and you grow (hopefully) over the years..and so do they.
Then you have a teenager. Gone is the grace and forgiveness! Now after years of taking care of these kids you know the depth of your own love- you knew depth of emotion before when they were young- but now that love has been tested and tried and refined- it has a strength you never knew when they were babies. And the immensity of this love is turned into suffering as they reject your love, your guidance, your affection. Not every day or every moment but with a frequency that breaks your heart. You know somewhere inside they still love you only not as much as they love themself.
Am I giving teenagers a bad rap? Lumping them all in as a bad lot? No- they have many moments when they are absolutely amazing. And I adore the teenagers in my home but that is the crux of it. You absolutely adore these children who will thrill your heart one minute and break it the next. Here is where as parents we are most like our God and most like our children. Trying to love well these that He has given us- we are like Him in His love and His heartbreak. But in the same instant we are the wayward children who delight Him and cause His suffering. Deep inside we love Him, but more often than we care to admit- not as much as we love ourselves. How much sorrow have I brought His heart as I have rejected His love and affection and guidance? I pray my heart will forever be turned to Him- but I rest in knowing that when I inevitably turn to my own way- His love will outlast my hardheadedness!

Poem

I wrote this a while back in the midst of a very difficult time and I thought it went along with yesterday's post. I'm not typically a poet so it's a little rhymey!



The arrow shot into my heart..
"Is God faithful? He is NOT"
The enemy's lie has been believed
My broken heart has been deceived.


Why is He giving others things I need
When I seek and I ask but He won't answer me?
Does He think they deserve more?
Why do I have to ask over and over?
Where do I turn if His love isn't true?
Just bide my time til this life is through?


The enemy's coils around me tighten
My heart becomes more and more frightened.
If His Word isn't the truth,
Then there are no moral absolutes.


I want to live, to be fully alive
But this overwhelming fear is ever by my side-
That God says He loves me but doesn't mean it...
I can't blame Him- I mean, my heart..have you seen it?
It's a mess and divided,
I wish I could hide it.
I strive and I try to make myself pure
But this wretched heart can't manage the cure.
Now I'm stumbling, fighting to take care of myself
I can't give anything to others, I have nothing left.


At the end of myself, I give in to defeat,
The broken pieces of my heart laid at His feet.
My life is a mess
What He'll do, I can only guess.
Be disgusted and angry?
I am laid bare in His sovereignty.
His gentle arms envelop me,
Rocking me, holding me gently.
Where is the anger, the wrath and harsh words?
Why isn't He treating me how I deserve?


His love is so great, my fear melts away
How could my faith ever have strayed?
He is good and faithful, my heart now can see
His answers were there- patiently waiting for me...
Love for my fear, peace for the storm...
All found there in the crook of His arm.
Tucked away in His presence my heart is set free,
Assured in all ways that He really loves me.

Hope

I had a conversation with a friend today about how she has reached a place where she is almost afraid to ask God for anything because she doesn't want to be disappointed anymore. Then I got home and had an e-mail asking for prayer from a family going through a long, drawn out medical struggle with their infant son. The mom said it's getting difficult because every time she gets her hopes up- she gets let down again. I could cry for them because I have so been there. What a miserable place to be where we are afraid to hope!
Hope is meant to be a lifeline for us, but in times like these- it's almost more bearable to just give up. This is why the Bible says hope deferred makes the heart sick. What do we do in these places where we still believe in God- we just don't believe Him anymore? I wish I could offer some formula that I learned through my own experiences that would bring His answer quickly. How do we keep hoping when it seems like He is absent from our circumstances? Brennan Manning talks about "tainted trust" where we have walked in the wilderness for so long that the promised land doesn't even seem real anymore. It's why the Israelites gave up right at the edge of their victory (remember the reports from the spies and the Israelites believed the bad report?).
I am in no way saying that if we just hold on long enough- we'll see whatever answer we're asking for. People lose their jobs, children die, marriages fall apart and quite often it has nothing to do with a lack of faith or perserverance on someone's part. It just happens. It is part of this broken world we live in.
This is where I am learning that my hope has to switch from my circumstances to Truth. It is not a quick-fix or a feel-good philosophy but it is the only thing that will bring peace that lasts no matter what happens. The Truth is that this life and all it's troubles are temporary, that we are living for something beyond our present happiness, and as we struggle through loss and change and disappointment- He is constant. Whether we feel His Presence or not- He is right there. I can only fall into His arms and ask Him to comfort me through the things I cannot understand and cannot change. There are times in our life when believing Him for the miraculous is not a possibility because it seems like just making it through the day, breathing in and out- is a miracle in itself. I do believe He is still healing, delivering, and providing in miraculous ways. But when He doesn't- He's still the same God I love and trust. When I am lying in a heap on the bathroom floor asking Him how I can make it one more day in my present circumstances, asking why it has to hurt so much, asking why He doesn't fix it because I know He can...He is still God. He is not threatened by my fear or my questions- He is not even offended at the smallness of my faith. He wraps me up in His arms and somehow brings me through the things I never thought I would survive.
The beautiful thing about it is that I love Him even more now than I did before it all fell apart. He is faithful and He will redeem all the pain we suffer.

Love

I was watching a ridiculous show tonight where these guys were singing to a girl a song from The Lion King asking her "Can you feel the love tonight?" Painfully embarrassing for them, but it took me back to the first time a boy asked me that question.
I was 19...he was 4. On the way home from Target- he leaned forward from the backseat- sticking his pudgy face right by my seat and as the Elton John version of the song played on the radio, he solemnly asked me, "Aunt B, can you feel the love tonight?" And you know, in that moment, I really could.
Trent is my sister's first child and my first opportunity to be an aunt. I didn't know what to expect when he was born. I only knew as we counted down the days to his arrival- I could hardly wait. I remember borrowing money to go use the payphone(yes, it was that long ago) during lunch to check in with Leigh and make sure I hadn't missed the big event in the few hours I'd been locked away at school. And then when he came- going on mundane errands with her just to help hold him while she was in line at the bank or buying groceries. I was in love.
He was no teeny little thing- starting out at over 9 pounds. And his presence was even bigger. He never slowed down with the growing,either. He was grossly unaware of his size. As he got older and there were more sisters and cousins to play with, Trent never realized how much bigger he was and would squeeze into tiny little spaces during hide and seek that would inevitably end in him being stuck, or more often, him breaking the whatever he squeezed under, on, or between.
But I didn't care that he broke something every time he stepped foot in my house. He was too cute for me to care about stuff that could be replaced.
And now he's old enough to be one of the boys singing to the girl on this stupid show. He's still no teeny thing- hitting right around 6'3" - but he will always be the first boy to really steal my heart and hopefully, for his own sake, I will be the only girl he ever quotes The Lion King to.

Unbelievable

One of my favorite shows in the 80's was the A-Team. My husband says I should never admit this to anyone but after this weekend- I don't feel so bad about it. I sat in a theater full of people that obviously loved this show as much as I did. It took some convincing to get Brad to go with me but he finally caved and we went opening night. I thought it was fantastic. Brad thought it was okay. He took issue with a couple of scenes he found "unbelievable".
I take issue with movie-goers that complain about movies being unrealistic or unbelievable. This morning as we watched a TV movie about talking dogs, my 13 year old son actually looked at me and said a scene where a German Shepherd snapped a rope was totally unrealistic- it would never have snapped that easily. But the scene before where he was talking to the chihuahua was completely believable? Please. The whole reason we go see movies is to see something that is not reality. Frankly, reality can really suck. Happy endings are rare and the story line is never predictable. I enjoy knowing how the story will end- the guy will get the girl- the good guys will win- justice always triumphs- and if I accidentally get one of those waste-of-an-hour-of-your-life movies (ie A Perfect Storm)...it ticks me off.
The scene that bothered Brad so much involved a tank falling out of an airplane with parachutes attached to it and someone hanging out of the top firing the tank. Of course, they landed safely in a lake and went on to accomplish their mission. I think it's only right that they survived the fall because, after all, they are the good guys. Heroes should be able to acomplish the impossible- to survive against all odds to save the day and make some pithy remarks in the process. And - maybe you'll think this is a stretch- but I think there is something biblical about this whole line
of thinking.
Who would think it realistic to send a newborn baby, born to a virgin- mind you, to save not only a nation- but the world? Not very believable. Then He picks as His "Super Friends" 12 losers of His day- fishermen who couldn't cut it in the temple. Hmm...this story line is getting a little flimsy. How are we supposed to believe these guys will turn the whole world upside down when they spend their spare time fighting over who's the most important? I find them very unbelievable as heroes. But then something happens and this is no longer an idea but it's happening.Within three days Christ has overthrown an entire world system and 12 men are setting out to change the world and their only super power is the Holy Spirit. Not even Hollywood would put this story on the big screen. It's craziness. Completely unbelievable.
Yet it's the more true than the "reality" most of us live in. We believe in only what we can see with our eyes or rationalize with our mind. There is a whole thing happening around us- a battle between good and evil- and we don't have eyes to see it. We are clueless and arrogant, thinking our physical senses and our intelligence will take us to the only places that matter- that if it's unbelievable , unrealistic, or irrational- then it's insignificant.
But something calls to the deep places in us- even these movies, if you will. Something that longs to believe the unbelievable- that good will ultimately win- that even the most unlikely can be heroes- even the most unrealistic situation can turn into victory. And that is His reality. It's how He rolls.

Cooper

I love dogs. I always have, probably always will. And if the dog is not very likable- I usually think it can be attributed to its owner more than the dog's nature. Dogs, generally, are loving, selfless animals so long as their needs are met- food, water, security, love... I even believed, until recently, that if a dog had been deprived of any of these things and developed issues- these issues could be overcome with consistently meeting their needs over a period of time. That was 3 years ago that I last firmly held to that belief... 3 years B.C. (before Cooper).

Cooper is our weimeraner. He is a rescue dog that was starving in a metal crate when he was found in about 4 inches of standing water and covered in sores. The rescue group took him in, nursed him back to health, and we adopted him. When we got him- you could still see his ribs and the scars from the sores. But, we firmly believed, love would overcome all and he would turn out to be the best dog we ever had. He was terrified of being put in a crate and if we tried he would wet all over himself and the person maneuvering him into the crate. He was ravenously hungry all the time- even if he just ate. He had separation anxiety and thought he needed to sit on the couch by you and sleep in the bed with you. He refused to go outside by himself for more than the 20 seconds it took him to pee off the side of the porch. He was terrified of the water hose (we think his previous owners would spray him with the hose when he was locked in the crate- probably to keep him from barking- which is why he was found in standing water and why he was terrified of the crate as well). And last, he was completely obsessed with tennis balls.
So 3 years later- what has changed? After eating 2 meals a day, every day, for 3 years- being showered with love and attention from a house full of dog lovers-being walked, played with and surrounded by doggie buddies ( we have 3 others)- Cooper is no longer afraid of the crate. Yes- that is all we have accomplished. He is still hungry all the time- in fact just yesterday he ate a granola bar still in the wrapper while 3 of us tried to wrangle it out of his giant slobbery mouth. We finally gave in and gave him his own chair to keep him off the couch so I consider that a compromise instead of a failure. He still does not want to be outside unless someone is with him (and he has let us know that does not include other dogs). And he is still utterly and completely obsessed with tennis balls. He is the only one of our 4 dogs that makes me want to curse on a regular basis and I am quite convinced he is the most selfish dog that has ever lived (there is a general consensus in our home on this point).
We have discussed getting rid of him- giving him back to the rescue group or tossing him off the side of a building- but there is always a majority that votes the idea down (the members of this majority change from day to day, depending on what Cooper has done to whom). I think because , despite all his issues and selfishness, there is a sweetness to him (it has been debated that this he is just a master manipulator- but we have no verifiable proof) and somewhere deep down we still believe like we did B.C.- that maybe one day love will overcome and he will be the greatest dog we've ever had. Until then, I will bite my tongue and hide the granola bars.