Is This True of Me?

Though I am retired from paid work, there is a persistent (perhaps innate) sense that I have not, and will never be, retired from fulfilling my calling. This is different from being productive. Productivity is measurable, task based, checklist of duties and accomplishments. While productivity is good and necessary, being faithful to a calling does not necessarily see measurable results.

Being faithful to my calling does not mean

I will see measurable results. I must still be faithful.

In this seemingly interminable interim of isolation, quarantine, physical distancing, my time is occupied with basic tasks and simple diversions. The removal of normal social and recreational engagements has given opportunity for more contemplative time, reading and reflection. This is an in-between space, between What Was and What Will Be. A "normal" routine, if it ever returns, is likely to look different than before.

How should I then live?

This reflection from Oswald Chambers speaks into that question. I hope you find it helpful. It is from the YouVersion Bible App reading plan, "My Utmost for His Highest: 30 Day Edition" available here.

Is This True Of Me?

It is easier to serve or work for God without a vision and without a call, because then you are not bothered by what He requires. Common sense, covered with a layer of Christian emotion, becomes your guide. You may be more prosperous and successful from the world’s perspective, and will have more leisure time, if you never acknowledge the call of God. But once you receive a commission from Jesus Christ, the memory of what God asks of you will always be there to prod you on to do His will. You will no longer be able to work for Him on the basis of common sense.

What do I count in my life as “dear to myself”? If I have not been seized by Jesus Christ and have not surrendered myself to Him, I will consider the time I decide to give God and my own ideas of service as dear. I will also consider my own life as “dear to myself.” But Paul said he considered his life dear so that he might fulfill the ministry he had received, and he refused to use his energy on anything else. This verse shows an almost noble annoyance by Paul at being asked to consider himself. He was absolutely indifferent to any consideration other than that of fulfilling the ministry he had received. Our ordinary and reasonable service to God may actually compete against our total surrender to Him. Our reasonable work is based on the following argument which we say to ourselves, “Remember how useful you are here, and think how much value you would be in that particular type of work.” That attitude chooses our own judgment, instead of Jesus Christ, to be our guide as to where we should go and where we could be used the most. Never consider whether or not you are of use—but always consider that “you are not your own” (1 Corinthians 6:19). You are His.

O Lord, by Your grace open my vision to You and Your infinite horizons, and take me into Your counsels regarding Your work in this place.

God is not limited by time or distance. Grace opens my heart to respond to the Spirit's prompting large and small to do now, the next thing, right in front of me, and leave the results to God.

Photo: Christmas Cactus Bloom at Easter

Credit: Personal collection

Text Design via WordSwag app

Still Reflecting

View from Moose (Alces) Lake Campground, Whiteswan Provincial Park, BC

A friend asked recently when I was going to start blogging again. She missed it and others missed it. Another person who is very close to me doesn't have any framework for why writing publicly about one's life is of interest to others. These two opposing perspectives also exist in my heart and head when I consider writing.

The answer to why I do or don't write is not so simple. I began blogging in 2005. It was a space to dump the jigsaw puzzle of my thoughts out onto the table of the Internet and sort through it all to make some sort of connections between both my thoughts and the lives of others. It was sometimes humour, sometimes angst, often juvenile and beginner level writing. I took classes to hone my skills, increase the complexity and accessibility of my poetry and articles and began publishing certain pieces. This is a life-long pursuit: to articulate that which the heart struggles to convey in hopes another will say, “Oh, now I see.” Or “You too? I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

As a writer who was compelled to write, I used to say, "I simply can't NOT write" (and yes, I know that's incorrect grammar). In the processing of blogging and increasing Facebook posts and the trauma of losing my spouse of 31 years, a number of people began following my blog and Facebook page. I was both perplexed and grateful. Many are interested because they love me, many knew and loved my late husband, some are like-minded writers and bloggers, some are strangers who find a kindred voice. For whatever ways we may have found each other, I believe we share a resonance in matters of life, death, heart and soul.

David Whyte describes the phenomenon in this way: "You could say people are reading me like they read my poetry and they are following the unfolding of each chapter. None of us really knows how the chapter is going to proceed or what themes or characters are going to make themselves known."¹

One of my ongoing themes has been “busyness.” This is a challenge to every writer – the tyranny of the urgent which crowds out the more important issues of life. Early this year, I returned to full time work for the first time in twenty years. This, in and of itself, was a phenomenal challenge, as I was still emerging from grief in the extraordinary loss of my spouse and had not had a significant break from work since his death, all while trying to maintain a home, wade through legal and financial matters and support my son as a widow and single mom.

The very same week I began my new job, I had my first date with a very interesting man.

Since these two significant life events began, I've written very little about my inner life. Work and romance have filled my days. This has also made less room for photography, singing and poetry, along with my blogging, but they each have filled my soul in different ways, so I was not found wanting.

The job has a steep learning curve and high workload. It has only been the past couple of weeks as we have become fully staffed, where I feel I have finally hit my stride. Woken up, as it were, to the strength of my former gifts and found a rhythm with my duties and become comfortable in the dance of teamwork with my colleagues. It's inappropriate to blog about work, so there was nothing out of which to write there. Duties also included much editing and writing, so the compelling need to write in my spare time was lessened.

The budding relationship captures my remaining time and thought. The intellectual and emotional processing of a new relationship after such a wounding loss has been a significant draw on my emotional resources. The one great gift in my new love is that he also has experienced deep loss and is a few years further down the road in the healing, so can understand much of my pain and provide perspective from his own healing journey. He speaks peace into places of my life where I didn't even realize I was wounded.

Our ongoing relationship and subsequent marriage on August 30 has been a sacred space, and inappropriate to parade publicly before blog or Facebook followers. It is a place of wholesome, holy wholeness.

That being said, I am now at a place of personal contentment and joy beyond anything I ever anticipated. I could shout from the rooftops the incredible delight which this man has brought into my life; the beautiful sense of home we find in each others’ heart; the daily satisfaction of job well done as we put order to our household and find shelter in each others’ arms.

So, Jill, for you, I offer this blog. And for the rest of the family and friends (new and old) who wish to follow the unfolding of each chapter, I write this for you. I write it for the joy of finding that beyond shadow, beyond living to the point of tears, there is hope because a new day has dawned, a new chapter has begun.

It is only by God’s sweet mercy and generous grace that I am healing and becoming whole again. Human efforts are limited and skewed, rife with mixed motives and complex, intricately-crafted defenses. Ultimately, this is a story about our lives being the roads God travels – it is his work, to will and to do of his good pleasure as he makes everything work into a pattern for good in the lives of those who love Him.

I can’t promise how often I’ll write, but I’m still here, and I’ll write when I can. If you’re hearing me, keep talking, liking, loving. We are on this journey together. Be brave and make yourself known. We need each other to help find our courage and have those difficult conversations, living to the point of tears², experiencing, as Yates would have said, “A fierce, terrible beauty.”³

Why Source Your Quotes?

Originality is the fine art of remembering what you hear but forgetting where you heard it. ~Dr. Laurence J. Peter

It is a gift for a writer to be able to create a one sentence quote which "is worth a thousand words."(1)  Occasionally, we will find these on Twitter, limited to 140 characters. More often, they are lifted out of blog posts, books, speeches or published articles.

Dr. Peter's quote is tongue in cheek and typical of human behaviour. With Google, it only takes one or two searches using key words to discover who truly was the first to speak a quote. To not give them proper credit is, at best, lazy. Since it's a violation of copyright, the terms "thief" and "pretender" come to mind. Perhaps, though, it is simply ignorance or lack of respect, both of which could be overcome. Give credit where credit is due or it discredits you. It might even save you a lawsuit.

Outlandish Teachings

from A Lamp for My Feet by Elisabeth Elliot

There is no end to the new methods offered for success, self-realization, fulfillment, understanding, and happiness. Seminars, conferences, and workshops abound. Go to so-and-so, get counseling, a new exercise program, a new diet, another degree, job, husband, house, color scheme. If it's new, it's good.

"Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today, and forever. Do not be swept off your course by all sorts of outlandish teachings; it is good that our souls should gain their strength from the grace of God" (Heb 13:8,9 NEB).

Fixity of heart is a rare thing and probably always has been. It is easier to follow after the world in its futile pursuit of happiness, simply because we are like sheep and we go astray. To stay quietly by the Shepherd seems harder, but in the end we find there (and nowhere else) our soul's real strength.

Pascal wrote, "I have discovered that all the unhappiness of man arises from one single fact, that they cannot stay quietly in their own chamber." Try spending a half hour in a room alone, without music, without television, without even reading. Can you find any peace or happiness there? If not, perhaps you have not begun to learn what is truly important.

Good Boundaries

Dr. Neil Anderson in his book Daily In Christ, speaks of the boundaries of our conduct in light of God's will. 1 Corinthians 6:12 tells us that everything is good and lawful because we are free from sin and no longer under the condemnation of the law. So, like the hiker above, we are free to go to the edge and dangle our feet without any fences to hold us back. But sometimes it's more subtle things that get us into trouble. The little foxes spoiling the vine. More like wandering away from the safe path or climbing a fence into the pasture of a bull, rather than falling off the edge of a cliff. Our own actions in less dramatic ways can sometimes cause us to wrongly take good things beyond the boundary of God's will. Examples?

physical rest becomes laziness
ability to profit becomes avarice and greed
enjoyment of life becomes intemperance
physical pleasure becomes sensuality
interest in the possessions of others becomes covetousness
enjoyment of food becomes gluttony
self-care becomes selfishness
self-respect becomes conceit
communication becomes gossip
cautiousness becomes unbelief
anger becomes rage and bad temper
lovingkindness becomes overprotection
judgment becomes criticism
sexual freedom becomes immorality
conscientiousness becomes perfectionism
generosity becomes wastefulness
self-protection becomes dishonesty
carefulness becomes fear

How do you ensure balance in life? To do what is profitable without being mastered by anything, even good things? What boundaries do you set?

In the Dark Hours

From The Writer's Almanac I learn it is the birthday of poet William Stafford, born in Hutchinson, Kansas, in 1914, one year before my own mother. Since he and my parents were contemporaries and lived in the same community, it is fanciful of me to imagine that their lives could have possibly crossed paths.

According to Garrison Keillor, Stafford's best-known books are The Rescued Year (1966), Stories That Could Be True: New and Collected Poems (1977), and Traveling Through the Dark (1962). He taught for many years at Lewis and Clark College in Oregon.

Keillor says Stafford usually wrote in the early morning. He sat down with a pen and paper, took a look out the window, and waited for something to occur to him. Here's one excerpt which prompted me to post here:

In the winter, in the dark hours, when others
were asleep, I found these words and put them
together by their appetites and respect for
each other. In stillness, they jostled. They traded
meanings while pretending to have only one.

Broken Christmas

I miss family and tradition most at Christmas.

My family was in ministry as I was growing up. We traveled and sang in different churches, up to 200 per year. At Christmastime, we were always traveling, often to the southern states. While this musical venture provided many wonderful opportunities, it meant the traditions of holidays enjoyed by others were not part of our upbringing.

I do remember decorating the house for Christmas, the silver tree with rotating colored spotlights, the indoor/outdoor light garland around the picture window, rolling/cutting/baking Peppernuts (a nut-sized cookie enjoyed by the handful), vain attempts at making divinity which never turned out like Mom thought it should and "New Years Cookies" which were actually deep-fried dumplings made of sweet dough with raisins, then tossed in a sugar mixture.

As an adult with my own home and family, traditions have not been easily established. There are just the three of us and we have never had a larger family Christmas with immediate relatives. We have built our lives into our church family and often enjoyed Christmas dinner with friends and other "orphans" who didn't have family close by.

As a result, as Christmas approaches each year, it brings mixed emotions. This year seems more challenging than others as Facebook is full of those speaking of their plans. We've made plans too, and they will be wonderful. But I wonder if sometimes those plans are a diversion away from the entire point of Christmas: that Jesus came to seek and save those who are lost, broken, orphaned, hurt, bitter, disapointed.

My Christmas prayer is that I will see the beauty of Christ through my own brokenness, knowing he came to redeem that and use, for his own purposes, this orphan who seeks the light that shines through eternity from that first Christmas.

In Brokenness You Shine

When life becomes a shattered dream
That's slipping through my trembling hands
I need to know that You are near
To know You see each falling tear
When there is no one else who understands

When I can't find the words to speak
You hear the pain in each heart beat
Before I even call to You
In my deepest hour of need
That's when You come and pour Your mercy on me

Your beauty shines
Your love surrounds
Where cries of brokenness are found bring hope alive
Help me believe
And trust You one more time
In brokenness You shine
In brokenness You shine

Let comfort be a living thing
A river flowing from my grief
Where thirsty souls can drink their fill
And find in You their heart's release
And through my sorrow show Your freedom and hope

How could I know when others said
A word or two then walked away
That you, the Man of Sorrows
Would come near to stay
You'll always stay

I want to see
Your beauty one more time
In brokenness You shine
In brokenness You shine

Words by Steve Green and Doug McKelvey*
Music by Bernie Herms
© 2005 Birdwing Music (admin. By EMI CMG Publishing) / Steve Green Music (admin. By EMI CMG Publishing) / ASCAP / LyricHead.com Songs / BMI / Banahama Tunes (admin. by The Loving Company) / ASCAP

*Lyrics from Steve Green Ministries Website, accessed Dec. 20, 2009

The Art of the Interview

A "comment" posted by Jonathan Barratt on TED Talks. The Art of the Interview by Marc Pachter

Like clock work humans sculpt themselves by the hands of their experience,
But these unbound by traditional round that leaves the hands mysterious,
The quiet ones with cat caught tongues have stories of their ingenius,
Ones which lead to tales and songs which have you sound delirius,
But how to hear of the times past on,
A questions sir, but ah! Which one?
The one which asks them of their scars and placed a piece in time's collage,
This held by hands in an amorphic clock the shape of which dependant on,
The man you stopped to ask the time, he's dying to tell you,
He's proud to be alive.

Serious Play, Careless Work

excerpt from Keep a Quiet Heart by Elisabeth Elliot

When I was a kid we rushed home every afternoon from school, burst into the house to make sure Mother was there and then collected the kids on the block to play Kick the Can or to build playhouses out of wooden greenhouse boxes. Equipment didn't cost us a cent. Adults didn't have to supervise us or drive us anywhere or coach us. We just played. We were kids, and we knew that after-school time was playtime--until it was time to work (practice the piano, set the table, clear the table, do homework!).

Something has changed. Educators have gotten terribly serious about play and terribly casual about real physical work. Billions of dollars are lavished on developing crafts which nobody really needs and forms of recreation which people have to be taught to like. We've got "toys to grow on," computer games, play groups, playgrounds. Tiny tots who would have been happy with a few Tupperware containers and some spoons are given fancy mechanical toys that do things, and taught that if they make huge messes with finger paints they're being creative, which they didn't know they wanted to be.

I've seen Indian children playing in the river, climbing trees, sliding down mudbanks. But at the same time they were often catching fish or finding wild honey, fruit, or edible snails. They had no toys to play with but they had a marvelous time (at the age of three or four, mind you) building fires, sharpening knives, whacking away at the ever-encroaching weeds. Nobody told them what to do. Child's play naturally turned into useful work. My little three-year-old Valerie was as adept at these activities as the Indians--learned just as they had, by daily observation of adult men and women at work, then by imitation. A girl of ten could weave a perfect hammock; a boy of ten could handle a blowgun and bring home the "bacon," i.e. a bird or monkey for supper. A lot of what they did mattered, and they had much more fun than children who spend a good part of their childhood doing things that don't matter very much to them or anybody else.

Aren't children nowadays often getting far too much of the wrong kind of attention and not nearly enough of the right kind? Does it really make sense for kids of six and seven to be so frantically serious about organized sports and to be geniuses at computer games, but to have no idea how to amuse themselves without a coach, a team, a uniform, an arsenal of weapons, or an expensive and complicated piece of electronic equipment--not to mention daily transportation to and from the athletic field, park, ice rink, anywhere but the back yard? Must they be rounded up, herded, instructed, shouted at, praised, coaxed, and hovered over by adults who are paid money to pay attention to the poor little hooligans in order to keep them out of the adults' hair during "working hours"?

Is anybody paying attention to how a child works? Is it assumed that if asked to rake a lawn he'll do it halfheartedly? Will he sweep the garage in silent fury or will he rejoice in doing a thorough job of it? Will she scrub a sink till it shines and know herself to be a useful member of a household? School teachers desperately try to teach children who have never really labored with their hands to do schoolwork--not a very good place to start, it seems to me. If a child is not given to understand that he has a responsibility to help make the wheels of home run smoothly--if he is not given work which matters, in other words--why should he imagine that it matters very much whether he cooperates with teachers and fellow students? His parents have failed to give attention to a vital matter. Their attention has been elsewhere--on their own interests, jobs, amusements, physical fitness, or only on the child's health and a misguided notion of happiness which leaves out work altogether.

The jungle Indian children I knew learned without formal lessons of any kind. They were with their parents more or less all the time--everybody sleeping around a single fire at night, boys hunting or fishing with their fathers by day, girls planting and gathering food with their mothers. It was hard work to survive. They took responsibility to collect firewood and keep the fire burning. Very rarely did a parent even have to tell a child, let alone nag him, to do his job. It was expected and the kids met the expectations. Nobody over two had much leisure, but they had a lot of fun. I've never seen people laugh so much. It was a peaceful life, a life without anything like the severe stresses and conflicts we have created for ourselves. Wouldn't it be lovely to go back to all that?

But how are we supposed to do it? We don't live in the jungle. Children have jungle gyms instead of real trees to climb; plastic swimming pools instead of a clear flowing river; sliding boards instead of mudbanks. The work necessary to keep everybody alive and fed and clothed is done where they can't see it. So far as children can see, it usually has nothing to do with being fed and clothed but only with money. Their parents (often, alas, both of them) tear off somewhere in the morning and come home at night exhausted, having spent their day at who knows what. The newspaper, dinner and TV take up a chunk of what's left of the day. Football, the child learns by observation, is vastly more important than anything else in the father's life. It takes precedence over everything, rivets his father's attention, something he himself has never managed to do. So he, like his father, seeks escape from home and the responsibilities of home.

Is the situation irremediable? I don't think so. Surely we could eliminate some of the frustration and discontent of "civilized" family life if we took our cues from the "uncivilized" people who work almost all the time (and enjoy it) and play very little of the time (without making a complicated chore out of it). Happiness, after all, is a choice. Let your child see that you put heart and soul into the work God has given you to do. Do it for Him--that changes the whole climate of the home. Draw the child into acceptance of responsibility by starting very early. Expect the best. If you expect them to oppose you, to "goof off," to be terrible at two, rude at ten, intractable as teenagers, they won't disappoint you.

It takes longer, of course, to teach a child to do a job than it takes to do it yourself--especially if you have not given him the chance to watch you do it fifty times. It takes sustained attention--the sort of attention a child desperately needs. He can't get too much of that. He needs to be convinced that he is a necessary and very much appreciated member of the family.

What about the sacrifices? We're going to have to make some if we mean to correct our mistakes. Instead of sacrificing everything for money and sports, which most people seem ready to do without a qualm, we may have to sacrifice money and sports for our children. We will certainly have to sacrifice ourselves.

But, of course, that is what being a father or a mother means.

Elisabeth Elliot is a missionary, author and speaker. Her daily devotions are available through devotions.org - a ministry of Back to the Bible.

Welcome to the Place of Level Ground

An excerpt from a new song by Brian Doerksen:

Welcome to the place of level ground
Welcome to the place where grace abounds
We all need mercy

Welcome to the place where none can boast
Welcome to the place compassion grows
We all need mercy

None of us are worthy on our own
None of us could keep the perfect law
None of us have lived a sinless life

But thanks be to God
He sent us all a Saviour.
Jesus Christ, the only God of grace.

Video available here.

Rights and Wrongs

I looked forward to sleeping in today but I slept all of 20 minutes extra. Habits die hard. At least I don't need to make breakfast and pack lunches, so I logged in to review a poem I'm writing. Before I got to it I checked email. Habits die hard.

I receive a devotional thought daily by email excerpted from Elisabeth Elliot's work. Today comes this quote from George Macdonald. It echoes what I wrote in my last post. There seems to be a theme this week.

"Man has a claim on God, a divine claim for any pain, want, disappointment, or misery that will help to make him what he ought to be. He has a claim to be punished, and to be spared not one pang that may urge him toward repentance; yea, he has a claim to be compelled to repent; to be hedged in on every side, to have one after another of the strong, sharp-toothed sheep-dogs of the Great Shepherd sent after him, to thwart him in any desire, foil him in any plan, frustrate him of any hope, until he comes to see at length that nothing will ease his pain, nothing make life a thing worth having, but the presence of the living God within him; that nothing is good but the will of God; nothing noble enough for the desire of the heart of man but oneness with the eternal. For this God must make him yield his very being, that He himself may enter in and dwell with him."

"nothing...but the presence of the living God within him."

And that is the greatest right and privilege of all.
Who needs to sleep in?

Bring on the sheepdogs.


.

When It's Hard to Pray

Elisabeth Elliot's writings almost always strike a nerve for me, what follows are her thoughts from Keep a Quiet Heart:

Be Honest With God

Since God knows our thoughts even before we think them, isn't it absurd of us to hesitate to tell Him the straight truth about ourselves? When we feel we ought to try to cover our spiritual nakedness it is good for us to open up Psalm 139: "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.... You perceive my thoughts from afar.... You are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.... You created my inmost being" (Psalm 139:1-4,13, NIV).

There are times when I hesitate even to pray, knowing how far short I fall from God's standard.

George MacDonald writes:

"If I felt my heart as hard as a stone; if I did not love God, or man, or woman, or little child, I would yet say to God in my heart, 'O God, see how I trust Thee, because Thou art perfect, and not changeable like me. I do not love Thee. I love nobody. I am not even sorry for it. Thou seest how much I need Thee to come close to me, to put Thy arm round me, to say to me, MY CHILD: for the worse my state, the greater my need of my Father who loves me. Come to me, and my day will dawn; my love will come back, and, oh! how I shall love Thee, my God! and know that my love is Thy love, my blessedness Thy being.'"

We may pray the prayer that closes Psalm 139: "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" (Psalm 139:23-24, NIV).

"Be persuaded, timid soul," writes Archbishop Fenelon, in his SPIRITUAL LETTERS TO WOMEN, "that He has loved you too much to cease loving you."

Solution for the Energy Crisis: Living With Teenagers

Talk to the Hand

by Sue McMillan*

Paula Poundstone is a comedian and a mother. I always enjoy her comedic status updates on Facebook and today’s was so close to home, I thought I’d share the quote and the follow up comments from her Facebook friends.

Paula said:

“Why do we need oil, coal, or windmills? Can't we harness the power of the dramatic, despondent sighs of our teenagers?”

Comments:

Or the energy of their angst and temper flares? And everything it takes out of them when the world is coming to an end.

-Jean Crankshaw

I tried but the wires kept falling off...and cabling them up in parallel just leads to ... liberties. –Fin Time

I only wish! Our energy crisis would be solved. -Howie Ledford

Unfortunately, no. Scientifically speaking, that energy is offset by physical lethargy and internal apathy. Known also as "moms are such a drag" phenomena. -Dennis Vander Houwen

Just my two kids alone could power the DFW metroplex for the next 3 years. -Jim Cardenas

I’ve nearly completed my Angst/Ennui Hybrid. -C. Todd Mccormick

PMS power could work...Less whining and no lethargy/apathy problems. Just pure anger and energy! -Jackie Hodes Belcher

The other problem, of course, is what powers those sighs in the first place? You have to keep that engine stoked with all the contents of your fridge. -Skip Mendler

And if we could harness the kinetic energy of the eye rolls…

-Bobbee Lyn Gerson

*Art by Sue McMillan. Print available for purchase here.

The Lust for Security

A quote from Elisabeth Elliot in A Light for My Path:

Once we have set ourselves to be pilgrims and strangers on the earth, which is what Christians are meant to be, it is incongruous for us to continue to insist upon the sort of security the world tries to guarantee. Our security lies not in protecting ourselves from suffering, but in putting ourselves fully into the hands of God. The desire for physical and material security makes us sly and hard. No. We must be like little children. The child in its father's arms is not worried. It lies quietly at rest because it trusts its father.

We disobey sometimes because we say it is impossible to do what God asks. Impossible? Perhaps what we mean is impossible to do that and keep our security, impossible to obey without tremendous cost, or at least tremendous risk. Where, then, will we find safety? Is it likely that we will find it elsewhere than in the arms of the Father?

Prayer: Teach me to rest in your everlasting arms. Make me know that all other security is illusion.

Living a Meaningful Life

Tip of the hat to Marilyn Hahn for passing this on to me.

Looking for meaning? Having trouble figuring out how to make a difference? The answer may be closer and simpler than you think.

Ask yourself:

If I were gone tomorrow, what will I be most proud of having left behind?

The answer will be different for each of us, but it may tell you something about why you're here. Your answer can be as involved as a foundation you helped start, or as simple as a favorite picture that you took. Something will be here when you're gone. What would you like it to be? What one thing would tell the world what you were all about? Maybe it's your child.

Maybe you're already working on something that could turn into one of your greatest accomplishments. If so, give it your all. The more of yourself that goes into it now, the more people will be able to see you later on.

If you'd like to share your one thing, please feel free to comment. I'm thinking about mine and will try to comment about it soon.

Abba's Child

We all want to be known. To be loved. To be accepted. No matter how functional our family of origin may have been, every human being longs for intimate belonging. Yet one of every two marriages fail because people find their dream of the perfect lover is destroyed. When we find someone who knows us completely and still loves and accepts us as we are, we are drawn to them. We want to spend every possible moment with them. We adore them, because they meet our need for love. We spend our lives searching for this total acceptance, this unconditional love.

Brennan Manning says, “I am utterly convinced that on judgement day, the Lord Jesus is going to ask each of us one question and only one question. ‘Did you believe that I loved you? That I desired you? That I waited for you day after day? That I longed to hear the sound of your voice?’”

When we believe this, then following God becomes our desire, our passion, our priority. When we are truly worshipping God, we will not be aware of it, because our eyes will be focused on Him.

Lose yourself in the one who sings over you:

Come then, my beloved, my lovely one, come
For see the winter is past, the rains are over and gone
Flowers are appearing on the earth,
The season of glad songs has come
The cooing of the turtledove is heard in our land

The fig tree is forming its first figs
And the blossoming vines give out their fragance
Come then my beloved
My lovely one come.*

Lose yourself in Him. Meditate on this truth every day. You are his beloved.

*Song of Solomon 7:10 ff

Whaddayamean I don't measure up?

Elisabeth Elliot always has sage advice and thoughtful perspective:

Many women have told me that my husband's advice, which I once quoted in a book, has been an eye-opener to them. He said that a wife, if she is very generous, may allow that her husband lives up to perhaps eighty percent of her expectations. There is always the other twenty percent that she would like to change, and she may chip away at it for the whole of their married life without reducing it by very much. She may, on the other hand, simply decide to enjoy the eighty percent, and both of them will be happy. It's a down-to-earth illustration of a principle: Accept, positively and actively, what is given. Let thanksgiving be the habit of your life.

Such acceptance is not possible without a deep and abiding belief in the sovereign love of God. Either He is in charge, or He is not. Either He loves us, or He does not. If He is in charge and loves us, then whatever is given is subject to His control and is meant ultimately for our joy.

I used to say my husband was 98 percent perfect, but I was nearsighted and focused on the remaining 2 percent until it filled my vision. It is a bad habit. Tonight I am grateful for my husband for many reasons. To name a few:

1. He has been gainfully employed since he was a teenager. The last 28+ years with the same employer.
   
2. He faithfully walks the dog and makes sure the house is secure every night before he goes to bed.
   
3. He regularly cleans up the dishes after supper.
   
4. He remembers most of what I forget.
   
5. He has a great sense of humour.
   
6. He let me have the remote control one night last week.
   

How perfect is that?

A Walk in the Park

A day spent without the sight or sound of beauty, the contemplation of mystery, or the search of truth or perfection is a poverty-stricken day; and a succession of such days is fatal to human life. ~Lewis Mumford

It’s early January. After a month of subzero temperatures, with some days near minus 30, today’s minus 6 feels almost balmy. The break in the weather means my regular walks can resume. The happy crunch of snow under boots lightens my step as I head for the Bow River in a favorite area of Fish Creek Park.

Fog rises. The river runs slowly, more slowly than summer, a virtual crawl compared to the spring run-off. Ice floats in loose shapes along the surface, pivoting around motionless branches that rise slightly above the steaming water. I do a double take as one disappears. The ambient light of dusk plays shadow games. I stop to focus and the “branch” resurfaces, now the unmistakable profile of a loon.

I check the other “branches.” At least half a dozen stationary loons face upstream, defying the current to carry them. They remain at a standstill except for an occasional dive. They are well equipped, seemingly impervious to the cold. I marvel at their Houdini skills as they disappear under the water and reappear many seconds later. I marvel at the mystery of how they can stay submerged for so long, how they can endure the temperatures of a frosty river.

I turn, smiling at their tricks, and pace myself to an ice float as I walk in parallel on the riverbank. Convenient for me, it travels at my pace. It reaches the bend where the snow covers the bank and rolls an icy blanket out into the current, then the ice float makes a slow turn around the barrier and begins to break up in the steaming rapids.

Not one to take foolish risks, I survey boot prints and animal tracks before venturing onto the ice near shore. Enough feet have tested the small path and marked its strength. On this frozen freeway, nature seekers gain closer proximity to water, wildlife and views and enjoy an unimpeded circle walk around this small slice of wilderness in the middle of Calgary.

My ears draw me on toward the roar. The river descends slightly, bowing to water’s rising applause. The resonance of water over rock blends with the near-mechanical whir of wings. Gaggles of Canada geese alight and take shelter together in the eddy behind an ice peninsula. Here again are beautiful creatures that manage to defy the elements. Their necks arch into the water, beaks seek nourishment beneath the frigid surface.

I continue walking and survey numerous animal tracks across the hillside. I muse whether they include tracks from the coyotes that have been frequenting my backyard, finding dry ground and shelter under the thick spruce. I notice rabbit tracks from those swift creatures that have escaped the coyotes. There are also deer tracks, perhaps from the same twin fawns—now grown—which I saw in the twilight of an early summer walk. Each track, each creature, are evidence of a Creator(1) that gives every good and perfect gift.(2)

As I return home, I recall the words of Lewis Mumford and agree. Today was beauty and mystery, the very exhibition of truth. It was a gift from my Creator. I have a rich life, indeed.

The Spoken Word

Did you ever feel under attack by evil? That the enemy of your soul was doing his best to disrupt you or the life of your family? Those are the times when we need to use our offensive weapon, the sword of the Spirit: God's word. Dr. Neil Anderson says it is important to defend ourselves against the evil one by speaking God's Word out loud. Read the entire article here and speak out!

I think I've found my purpose

I always wanted to write. I was never clear about the motive. Now that I have quit my day job and set aside time to write, I've been thinking about the nature of what I should write. What will my purpose be? I think I found it today. I would like to be a person and a writer who does what Isaiah and Titus record in the following quotes. I need to apply this at home, first with myself, then with my husband and son, then to everyone else I meet - in person or on the printed page. Yes and amen.

Isaiah 61

The Year of the LORD's Favor

1 The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,

2 to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.

The Apostle Paul offers a clear and simple list of things godly women--all of them--are meant to do, and it's found in Paul's instructions to a young pastor (Titus 2:3-5):

Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God.

Before you go and get all feminist on me, understand that "to be subject" is equivalent to my husband being subject to God. You could see a parallel in his relationship to his employer. They work in a team environment, everyone has input, but when there's differences of opinion, the responsibility for final decisions has to lie with someone, and that's usually the boss. Sometimes he defers the decision to Brent. No one person is better or more important, but there is a line of authority for final decision making. There's much more to it, so if you'd like to discuss it further, email me.