The Good Stuff

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Our culture of consumerism has evolved so highly that most businesses and many average people barely give Thanksgiving a passing thought as they move right from Halloween to Christmas. It struck me this past week – when I heard yet another ad for a then-to-be-aired Christmas special on TV (??) – how sad that is.

After all, while I believe that gratitude should be a daily choice and a year-long attitude to which we aspire, at least those who pause to count their blessings and offer a thought on that one day a year are moving in the right direction of refocusing amid life’s craziness.

And life feels crazier than ever.

I thought things would calm down after Election Day ended and all of the political ads stopped entering my home by mail and by screen.

The ads may have stopped, but the angst and anger haven’t missed a beat. 

I thought the past week would be a normal one. But what started as “normal” for many across the country started as hellish for many in California.

The shooter may have stopped, but the fearful ripple effect from the boulder he dropped in that pond has spread from sea to shining sea.

I got to thinking: many people celebrate a season of advent to prepare their hearts and minds for Christmas, so why not celebrate a shorter, similar season leading up to Thanksgiving, as a way to prime the pump of observation?

After all, while it is important to be aware of grim realities, a thankful heart is far more likely to seek and hold hope than a fearful heart is. And a heart that looks for the good and the peaceful will help to usher the good and the peaceful into the swirling chaos.

So, starting with this post, I’m going to write a new post every day until Thanksgiving. (The following ones will generally be much shorter than this one!) In each of these Thanksgiving Advent posts, I’m going to list ten to twelve reasons why I am thankful for some thing or topic, or ten to twelve reasons I would say thank you to a person or a group of people.

Today, in honor of the additional holiday, I will start with:

Ten “Thank Yous” to Our Veterans

  1. Thank you for sticking with it during basic training in those moments when it would have been so easy to give up.
  2. Thank you for putting up with MREs and other barely edible rations…and perhaps for pressing on with no food at all…while I have been safe at home, warm and well-fed.
  3. Thank you for working some gruelingly long-shifts and going without (preferred) leave days.
  4. Thank you for taking the night watch in foreign countries so that I could sleep snugly and dreamlessly in my own soft bed.
  5. Thank you for taking orders from some commanders who were power-hungry jerks because you believed duty and love of country are far greater than any leader’s ego.
  6. Thank you for putting yourself in harm’s way to spare the lives of your compatriots, your fellow countrymen, and even the innocent citizens of other countries.
  7. Thank you for enduring enormous mental and emotional stress – things that often lead to the deepest wounds – so that I might have peace of mind.
  8. Thank you for waking up at sunrise or long before – whenever the bugle sounded, the siren wailed, or the alarm rang – to go about vital tasks that no one on the outside will ever know you have done for us.
  9. Thank you for taking bullets, shrapnel, and every other physical infliction or pain you’ve ever experienced…to make those around you safer for one more day. 
  10. Thank you for doing all this and more – and going for days, weeks, months, or years without being thanked for it. It was not in vain.

Will you agree to join me in this shorter advent journey by doing one or more of the following?

  • Read each new post and stop to ponder what you personally have to feel grateful for in relation to that day’s topic?
  • Leave a comment for myself and other readers to consider – things on that day’s list that are most important to you or other things you’d add to that day’s list?
  • Carry those thoughts of thankfulness and goodness with you throughout your day, inviting them to radiate from you to improve your living and working environments?
  • Share (links to) posts you feel are timely with your friends via social media, email, text, or word-of-mouth?

Thank YOU! 🙂

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So what about the foundation of a person’s life and how it serves to guide his or her identity?

In a recent writing assignment, a student of mine observed that when a political leader tries to lead people without possessing certain fundamental moral qualities such as honesty and others-centered responsibility, that leader’s life is a little bit like a shirt with buttons in mismatched button holes, all the way from the bottom of the shirt to the top.  

It was an apt thought as I further pondered this topic of identity and the foundation/applied side of it. Thinking about not only political leaders – but all types of people in general – a life without a solid moral compass is a little like a house with a slanted foundation or a dress shirt with an askew buttoning job. 

The main difference, perhaps, is that many political leaders and other celebrities live lives that are far more often on wide public display. The rest of us generally display our flaws and weaknesses to a considerably smaller crowd.

Having a solid foundation gives us a level place on which to build all of the other applications of our identity: the choices we will make; the things we will decide to invest money, time, and energy into; the direction we will veer at each fork in life’s road. But if our shirt gets buttoned in the wrong hole from the very beginning, we are far more likely to get off on the wrong foot or set off in the wrong direction – and stay there for most of our subsequent days.

And yet…analogies are rarely perfect…

In this case, though some things can’t be undone, learning how to lay a new foundation and rebutton the shirt correctly some years down the road gives us a chance to start fresh. In other words, by some miraculous grace and much discipline, the mind can be transformed. Renewed.

…Thank God for that.

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Cold weather is teasing us…and my car’s tire pressure sensors apparently don’t like to be teased. While I struggled to add air today at a gas station I don’t usually frequent, a kind stranger informed me that Firestone Tires gives a complementary pressure reading and air refill when needed.

I made a beeline for the nearest location. And I came back from my lunch break to inform several (grateful) co-workers who had no idea about the availability of that simple but wonderful service. I felt a little sheepish in doing so, having to admit in the process that I’d learned the hard way after wrestling with an air pump that had a less-than-familiar nozzle type, spending far more time than I would have liked struggling on my own — when that free service was just down the street.

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot about how our personal growth (spiritual and otherwise) – if it is to be called true growth – often involves things getting harder before they can get easier, darker before they can get lighter, and more fragmented before they can become fully mended.

In addition, a person will rarely be set free from an addiction or overcome a long-time area of weakness unless they personally recognize their need for such freedom and decide that they will do whatever it takes (or give up whatever they must) in order to find that desired freedom.

What we most often crave and need is love. God’s love.

The only kind of truth-bound love that will really set us free.

The only kind of love that will keep us going on the journey toward meaningful growth.

The only kind of love that struggles with us until we stop struggling and cooperate with it, trust it, to find what we’ve been looking for all along – the only One who can meet our every need.

And that – far and away above the kindness of Firestone – is something to tell others about.

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I’ve left Mr. Whiskers in the care of some kind neighbors for the weekend while I attend the annual MIDTESOL conference (for English language educators) in another state. And as I sit in session after session of informative presentations today, I’m struck by the common thread between both animals and all kinds of people: this desire to be both free and loved – and how the two are inter-related.

It may seem like an elementary thing, but I have to stop and remind myself that we can never truly believe we are free (and thus feel and act like it) until we understand that we can be or are truly loved… AND when we are truly loved and we know it, trusting that love (or learning to trust it again when the time is right) will lead us to live all the more freely in a good way.

It will lead to any or all of the following: more contentment, greater clarity, decreased fear, resounding (positive) impact, indescribable peace. And I think those are the marks of true freedom…much more than just the wide bounds to do whatever one feels like doing.

I see this not only on a basic level in the behavior of my guinea pig but also in the way at-risk folks I quietly advocate for open up to a sense of community when they know they are safe with me and in the way my students overcome their anxiety to develop more fluency whey they see they will not be punished for their honest, learning-driven errors.

Hard to believe I’ve had Mr. Whiskers for over a year and a half now. And equally hard to believe how far he’s come in expressing himself more freely and learning to trust again after being treated poorly by his previous owners.

One day last weekend, he curled up in a ball in the sunlight and slept like a rock while I worked busily very nearby.

And the next day, while I played a certain song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxO5rLV9pWU), when I leaned close, I could hear him squeaking along softly and sweetly with the music.

Fitting…and, oh, so true.

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It’s that time of year again for those of us who live in certain climate zones: the season of heavy dew that can border on frost and the time when early morning drives may require use of defrost for a moment, to keep that film of mist on the inside of the windshield from temporarily blocking our view of the road.

While I thought about that this morning, I began to imagine that mist as a representation of all that holds us back and burdens us in life. For the person who only has him/herself to rely upon, internal angst over the areas where we feel afraid or inadequate can certainly and understandably be daunting. But if a person believes that Providence will provide needed strength, protection, and life-foundation, what’s there to truly worry over or be lacking in? 

In this society of ours, it seems: a great many things, areas, reasons.

That’s because we dwell in a world where imperfection, fear, selfishness, and pain temporarily have the upper hand. And while we live here, we will always have to wrestle, to grow and learn repeatedly how to lean if we want to find and maintain a true sense of security.

And finding that true sense of security means the foundation of my soul-house must be on the rock of God’s faithfulness. And the framework of my soul-house must be nailed together with the iron of His unchanging truth.

If that’s the case, the windy days will certainly come, and hurricanes are bound to hit in their season, but though a window may crack or some shingles come loose, the soul-house will still be left standing in the end. In other words, the temporary circumstances that lead me to question my identity and sense of security will eventually clear away, repairs will be made, and peace will flow from the center of the soul-house again.

Through all of these musings, I ultimately came to this conclusive prayer: “Blown upon by the security of my Father’s-child identity, may my morning-mist insecurities evaporate day by day.”

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This Labor Day, I pause to reflect for a few moments. And if I’m honest, I will confess that I struggle to maintain a balance between two extremes: working my heart to the bone to try please those I work for or with versus not really caring about work and wanting to somehow escape its responsibilities.

The first extreme springs from a fear that the work I’ve done and all the work I’ve yet to do will somehow never really be good enough. The second has roots in the over-exhaustion that comes when I find myself trying to recover from the backlash of the first.

And somehow, I have a feeling I’m not the only one out there who has found him/herself in this boat, caught in this cycle.

So my mind floats to those old, wise words telling me not to worry, not to fear. “Look at the birds and the flowers – they don’t worry and all is provided for them…” And yet, I see members of the natural world also doing their “work” and receiving the gifts provided for them, gathering and storing for the winter ahead. Noticing one of my bushy-tailed little neighbors yesterday inspired me to write this poem:

Instincts sharp

and shiny

eyes vigilant

enough to

steer clear

of my

careening tires–

even though

that mouthful

surely outweighs

your head.

Bounding gracefully

over blades,

launching expertly

onto bark…

I instinctively

want to

hear if

you fear

the knowns–

and unknowns–

of winter?

Then I ask myself – what’s the difference between worry and fear? And how are humans different than animals with our given ability to make choices — choices that include one to trust the Creator when fear or worry (or both) would threaten to drain the joy from work that we should be reaping along with a salary (as Solomon suggested in Ecclesiastes 3:12-13)?

My head tells me that the contented and peaceful trusting-middle is the place where I should dwell, and my heart cries with the need to comply. But every day, as I face the winter of the world, I, the human, must make a very real choice: to be a little bit more like the lily, the sparrow, the squirrel.

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Oh, the joys and trials of being a homeowner!

When I did a final walk-through of the place I was signing on nearly one year ago, my realtor gave me several great pieces of advice. Among them she admonished, “And it’s a good idea to seal your basement floor, to keep cracks from forming and to prevent foundation damage.” A good idea indeed…though, I confess, the past year has gotten away from me.

Early last week, I made a trip to the basement for clean laundry and promptly ran back upstairs to call a local plumbing business. Turns out the hot water heater was dying. And though they replaced it, related issues brought them back three more times throughout the week. After half the basement floor was covered in water for many hours, places that had previously been completely smooth began to show small but steadily spreading cracks.

(The realtor had told me I could do the sealing work myself, but though I have happily done several small home repairs, I was nervous to take on a task of this size with such materials all alone.)

Enter handymen Rick Sr. and Rick Jr.

They came in to fill the cracks and seal the entire basement and garage floors, leaving both solid and beautiful. Saved me a ton of money over hiring a big company…and saved me a bunch of stress in figuring out how to use the various products and apply them all myself.

After I recommended the two of them to other folks on social media, the younger Rick told me, “You are a blessing in disguise.”

That made me think and chuckle. If we notice something good or redeemed and are thankful for it, doesn’t it cease to be a blessing “in disguise” and become, instead, a blessing plain as day? And if there are truly good things around us all the time, every day, how can we develop eyes and hearts that notice them more automatically?

Maybe it starts with a simple prayer, lifted up every time it comes to mind: “Help me be the blessing, see the blessing, pass the blessing on. Amen.”

 

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At the start of the year, I wrote about wanting to show more compassion to others in 2018. It is no coincidence, then, that on this birthday morning, God led me to a key verse for my new birth year.

In Luke 6, Jesus teaches, “Be merciful, just as your Heavenly Father is merciful.”

In honor of the Father who is merciful and who has given me both birth and rebirth plus a million second chances, I now pen this short poem-prayer as His gift on my birthday:

Kindly lead me in the paths of goodness

And show me more of Your ways

So that I may kindly be

Example after example, Day after day,

Though never perfect on my own,

A fingerprint-reflection of Your grace

In a world that needs more truth-filled mercy

Like the night

Needs daybreak.

 

Note: In order to focus on other projects, I am taking a break from blogging for the next several weeks. I plan to return with weekly posts in early August. Happy Summer!

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I stand on the threshold of my thirty-ninth year, but my earliest memory still remains clear in my mind. Daddy scoops me up in his arms and takes a seat in his worn living room chair. He drapes me on my tummy across the soft cotton of his shirt, my little arms and legs relaxing over his then-smaller belly, my cheek and ear pressed just so over his heart. And I fade to sleep while that beat resounds through the deepest parts of me.

My dad is a saint because he is redeemed, but he is not perfect. Yet, through the course of my life, from birth until now, he has stood by me or held me through a hundred sorrows and smiled with me through a thousand joys.

Funny, how both of us are creative introverts. This is a strange combination, because we are always seeking and appreciating good words, and trying our best to aptly describe what we are thinking. And yet, in our quietness, there are things we have never said to each other, other things we rarely talk about, and still other things we can never repeat often enough.

This weekend, I find myself at a point of frustration. I know that the small gifts and card I’ve prepared are a pathetic shadow of how I proud I am to be his daughter and how blessed we are to have each other. And even in writing those words, I know they are not enough to fully express my feelings.

So, I will tell my dad how I feel about him in another language – the language of music.

When I think of all the ways Dad blessed me in my early childhood, this is what my heart says: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2a20VuIecgM

And when I think of how dear his love and support have been to me through all the additional years of my life, this is how deep and sweet my echoing gratitude sounds: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lS7iU8vXWc

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy. This weekend and every day: thank you for cherishing me.

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What do I believe I deserve?

In the grand scheme of things, most people seem naturally disposed to assume that “good” people deserve good things and “bad” people deserve bad things – or at least they deserve less than their “good” counterparts.

A Jesus-centered view of the world sees things in a different light. In the light of His holiness, every single person has done things to distance him/herself from God, and therefore, on our own, we can never truly be good again – we are all correctly labeled as bad, marred, or undeserving. And the only thing we have really earned or deserved is punishment for the laws of God and man we have broken. Ironically, it is also in the light of His holiness, and His blood, that we can be made good again in the eyes of God, and filled with the desire to do good. And so, we acutely feel our struggle against the old wrong while we continue to reach for what is better.

Yet, even such redeemed hearts can sometimes struggle to know what to do with the undeserved. Every day – a hundred blessings are poured out on us. Some seem tiny and others are huge. If we have eyes and hearts to see them, it can still be hard to accept them. We sink back to thinking of what it was to depend solely on self, and we steep our minds in worries over our unworthiness.

But the Bible shows in more than one place that blessings and opportunities are poured on each person, no matter whether we would judge them “worthy” or not. For example, Ecclesiastes 9:11 (NIV) says, “I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.”

In The Voice of Melody, there is a point when Owen is acutely reminded of what a treasure he’s been given in his wife, Peggy. And in his words to her, we see the bottom line of our choice for how we will respond to all the blessings we don’t feel we deserve…

We can either deface God’s gifts to us, refusing them or snatching them from His hand with grumbling in our souls.

Or we can open our hearts to let them be poured in by the Blessing Giver, and echo back goodness with words of humble gratitude.

 

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