Eighteen: To my Beloved Atheist:

Note: While it is written to an atheist, I challenge Christians--myself included--to read this letter as if it were written to them.  Because we are just as prone to the attitudes I am addressing here. 

It is not written to a specific person, but rather to a compilation of many people whom I love and who have deeply held beliefs that are different from mine.  I use the term atheist, but it could just as easily have been a person who passionately holds any belief system that is different from mine, be it religious, educational, political, or nutritional.  We have become such a culture of critics and--to use a technical term--side-takers. This is my attempt to offer a better way.

To My Beloved Atheist:

I read the following phrase yesterday:

"There's plenty of space here for differences and disagreements, but I will not save room at the table for aggression or harassment, I won't respond to condescension."--Jamie Wright

I almost shouted, "YES!"

Yet here I go, about to respond to condescension, albeit unintended.  I respond not to win an argument, because I don't believe I can. I am not intellectual enough nor self-assured enough to match wits with you, and we both are too deeply passionate about our beliefs.

My kids' logic book would classify it as a stupid argument: one that cannot be won because neither party can be swayed.  First of all, the key point of difference in our beliefs is one that cannot be empirically proven.  I can show you scientific reasons for why I believe there is a Creator, and you can give me scientific reasons why you believe there isn't.  However, I cannot PROVE to you there's a God, and you can't PROVE to me there isn't.  So why fight about it?

I don't want to.

I would, however, like to invite you to take a peek at my perspective.  Whether it is right or wrong is not the point of this conversation.  It is just my perspective, and I'm not sure you've ever considered it.

When you proclaim your beliefs, it is often from a stance that feels very confrontational, with the implied suggestion--if not declaration--that anyone who disagrees is an idiot. Or delusional.

I know you love me and would never tell me to my face that I am a simpleton.  Yet you ridicule my beliefs to rooms full of people with me standing there; you shout your disdain across the Internet, knowing I'm out there somewhere, living a life based on what you mock.

You don't mean to say that I am stupid.  Just people who think like me.

It doesn't offend (okay, maybe it does); mainly it hurts.

I know, Christians can be just as gifted at condescension as atheists, as can passionate Republicans, Democrats, vegans, gun owners, or gun-control advocates... you get the picture. Maybe we all have surrounded ourselves so completely with like-minded people that we forget that not everyone is like-minded, and so we scorn some imaginary "others" whom we never consider wounding because they are a caricature, not a person.

I don't know.

I do know we all need to be nicer, and put a real face to that other, that fool, we are ridiculing. So next time you feel the urge to speak or write something belittling Christians, I would like you to picture my face, and write as if you are saying it about me. 

Because you are.

While I don't want to argue whose beliefs are RIGHT, I do think it's helpful to listen more than we speak.  Even more, we need to listen to understand, not to simply to respond.  I would be happy to share with you why I believe what I do, if you are ever curious and think you could listen and be open to the possibility that a person can be rational, sane, and even intelligent, and yet arrive at a different conclusion than you did.  I would also love to hear what reasons you have for why you believe as you do, and with such passion. You're very clear about what you believe, but I don't feel like I know what led you to your set of convictions.

If we could let go of the need to convince one another long enough to hear each other, it might be a beautiful conversation.

The other point I'd like to offer some perspective on is one of motives.

You are often rather evangelistic in your proclamation of your beliefs. Whether you intend it or not, when you forcefully pronounce the superiority of your faith in no god, I feel very much as if you are trying to convert me, to get me to renounce my faith and turn to yours.  Any why not? Christians are pretty enthusiastic about converting others to their faith.  It's only fair.

Except here's the question I have always had: Why is it so important that I don't believe?  If you convince me, how is that better for me?

If I understand correctly, you believe we are products of chance, life is what it is and nothing guides or influences it other than the actors in the play.  We are on our own.  Let's even assume you are right about this.  How does it benefit my life, how is it better for me to believe it?  I can cling to my very satisfying delusion and when my life is over be none the wiser.  Delusion or not, if there is no God, and this is all there is, then I'll be too dead to be disappointed if I'm wrong.

On the other hand, if I concede that you are right and reject my faith to believe as you do--I will have turned away from my hope, my purpose, my meaning, and my joy.  Sure, I have might been wrong about it all, but what difference will it make in the grand scheme of things?  If what you believe is true, why do you feel the need to convert me--particularly if my "delusion" encourages me to love others, live humbly, give generously and fight injustice?  It doesn't feel like your motives are loving if you would take that away and offer nothingness in return.

Now humor me and try to imagine I am right.  Remember we're not debating if I'm right or not, we're going for understanding of my motives. Suspend your disbelief for a moment and pretend that what I believe is actually the truth...

What I believe is that we were created to be in relationship with a holy and loving God. Consequently, it follows that by not believing, you are rejecting him and missing out good things.  Ultimate things, actually, and I want good for you.  Furthermore, I believe that this life is not all there is, and that if you reject God during this lifetime, there are pretty serious and eternal consequences--the very least of which is spending forever with no way to feel love, joy, or satisfaction--and acutely, eternally aware of the loss.

So think about this: even if that is impossible to believe, can you at least appreciate why it would be important to me to let you know about what I believe?  Can you see that even if it makes you uncomfortable, or embarrassed or annoyed,  the motive behind the sharing of my faith is a loving one?  If I love you, and if I really believe what I say I do, then I'd have to be some kind of a jerk not to at least try to make you aware.

In fact, I should probably apologize for not trying harder.

Anything Update. What a Difference a Week Makes.

A week ago I sat teary-eyed on a couch explaining to my bible study group about my invitation to travel to Myanmar (formerly Burma) with two staff members of She is Safe. My tears were the result of an inner turmoil that had been churning for days.

I really want to go, but really couldn't see why I should.  As I hashed out my struggle to decide, one friend finally asked, "So, should we pray that you WILL go, or that you WON'T?"

My response was, "Yes."

The fear factor really wasn't an issue after the initial shock of the invitation.  As I told my friend Katy, I'm pretty much always afraid, so I've learned to mostly charge on in spite of it because I don't want to miss my life.

My reluctance really had more to do with the fact that it is a large chunk of money, and whether it's out of my bank account or the from the generosity of others, it could just go straight to the work of She is Safe and not spent on sending me halfway around the globe.  I wasn't sure (and I'm still not sure) what I have to offer that would justify the expense. In fact, when I first spoke with the adorable woman who will be leading the trip, she encouraged me just to be open to using "whatever special skills I might have" while we are in Myanmar.  I could not think of a single special skill that might be useful.  I'm really nice--which I guess is a skill--?--and I'm great at reading stories aloud to children.  Aaaannnnd that's pretty much it.

As I sit and type this now, one short week later, I'm in a completely different place, feeling that as long as God keeps giving His yes in response to my yes, I'm going to Myanmar. And I'm fairly certain that it is what I'm supposed to do.

So what changed? First, I finished the book Helping Without Hurting, which is required reading for the trip.  (Everyone should read this book, by the way.)   In the book, the authors emphasize that short-term mission trips, to be most effective, need to be in support of long-term, preferably grass-roots efforts run by nationals in the host country.  The author told of the vital importance of visitors engaging and encouraging the field workers they meet, even claiming that such interactions provide far more value to the trip than any physical or material help.  We westerners (like me) want to hit the road and serve, which too often means doing things that local people could do themselves.  We tend to think of going so far just to fellowship as unproductive.   

So false. 

Think about this: in most of the Majority World, Christians are in the minority.  In Myanmar less than five percent of the population is Christian. To be able to meet with believers from across the globe and know that they are not alone, but supported in prayer by brothers and sisters whom they have now met face-to-face and shared meals with---think what an encouragement that is.  Maybe there IS a need for my "talent" for being nice!

The book was instrumental in changing my perspective, but so were people.  My friend Katy and new friend Kristin, who will be my travel partners, have been a huge encouragement just by sharing their experience, wisdom, and confidence.  Even though we can all agree that we have very little idea how I will be of service on this trip, they are certain that I will be a valuable member of the team--and God will show us how.

It has also been an amazing week to sit and see God work.  Before I even got support letters printed and mailed out, I had received over half of the money for the trip in donations from friends excited to be a part.  Given that encouraging sum, the trip leader called me yesterday saying that she felt comfortable going ahead and purchasing my ticket even though I was still a few hundred dollars shy of the full cost.  On faith we went ahead with buying tickets. Within minutes of getting the confirmation e-mail about the ticket, I got a notification that I had received a donation that would more than cover the needed cost of the ticket.

That's enough confirmation for me to keep moving forward!  If God can make all this happen (because it surely wasn't me), then I guess He'll find a way to use me, too.

Day Six: That's How We Roll

This will be a short write.

Today was filled with teaching, meetings, processing thoughts.  Tonight will be fellowship.

In the midst of it, I got a message from my husband telling me the excitement of the day in the remote location where he is working.

I'm just wondering how many other women out there have to send messages like this to their men:

"Please don't try to make friends with a bear."

Welcome to my world.

Anything?

I think God might be messing with me.  Two days after writing in tears about my gradually emptying nest, I got a request from a friend to take a trip with her.  To Southeast Asia.

This summer a group of my friends, some just starting out and others, like me, with a bit more "experience," read a book together by Jennie Allen called Anything.  The book is an accounting of what led her and her husband to pray the prayer that she says unlocked her God and her soul.  The prayer was simply, "Anything, Lord.  I'm in."

It was interesting for our group to discuss, because the group was composed half of young women preparing to leave the nest, and half of women whose nests were emptying.  To a woman, we were all on the cusp of a monumental life transition.   All of us were asking, "what am I supposed to do with my life?"

"Anything" is a prayer we all would benefit from praying, but most fear, because telling God "anything" means He could ask....well, ANYTHING, and most of us are pretty comfortable.  As comfy North Americans we tend to think in self-preserving terms, fearing that if we surrender and say, "anything," God will ask us to give things up or do something really big.  Big as in sell-your-home-and-move-to-Africa big.

I honestly thought I was pretty down with the whole "Anything" concept.  I had just the year before gathered some activist runners and put on a virtual 5k to raise money for an organization I love called She is Safe, and was ramping up for the second annual.  Not huge, but out of my comfort zone.

It's a funny thing about stepping out of your comfort zone.  It often takes you even further out.

Like to Southeast Asia.

I have to confess, my first response was not, "ANYTHING, Lord!"

More like, "ARE YOU EVEN KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!"

You have to understand.  When I think of adventurous travel, I think Europe, or at least a country where I have an inkling of a chance at communicating--at least the same ALPHABET for heaven's sake. I mean, I went to Haiti during a cholera outbreak and political rioting, but at least they speak some French there.  And it's in the same general hemisphere.  My mental awareness of the globe sort of stops at France.

Also, this would involve flying over LOTS of open water--and I get panic attacks on a paddle board.

Truthfully, I have a plethora of really good reasons to say, "Not this trip."

Like justifying spending $2500 on myself--right before Christmas--when I've got two kids in college, every vehicle has 200,000 miles on it (and we don't do car payments), my students are sliding together down to the ends of our lopsided couches, and my sweet husband is working is tail off trying to make it all happen.

And speaking of my husband: His job takes him out of town half of every month.  We live on a farm, so going while he's gone means leaving the farm without a farmer, but going while he's home means giving up the precious little time I have with him.

Oh, and then there's that little section of the travel planning pamphlet that addresses their policy for hostage situations.  I'm reading about how they'll handle the unlikely event that I get taken hostage--and just the other day I was telling my daughter's friend about how I AVOID LEFT-HAND TURNS if possible because they are more dangerous.  What's wrong with this picture?

Still...every single objection I have can be summed up in this equation: Guilt + Fear = NO

But I have been pleading for over a year with people to please give a darn about the plight of women and girls in parts of the world where they are treated as commodities or burdens. This is a chance to go and see the beginning stages of the creation of a Transformation Group that could impact generations of communities in the areas we'll visit.

I'll have an opportunity in a tiny way to enter into the lives of women and children living in extreme poverty who earn money by separating out recyclables, and maybe, just maybe be able to communicate to them that in them I see dignity, value and the fingerprints of God.  It's a chance to see with my eyes, feel with my heart, touch with my hands, and then share with my words.

Plus, the fact that it seems so impossible makes it a just little irresistible.  What kind of God story might this be if God makes the impossible possible?

Here's the great thing about "Anything:" I am realizing (at least at this stage in the game), I don't have to say, "Absolutely" to this one thing just yet...I simply have to say, "As You wish," and surrender it to Him--come what may.

Will you pray for me?  I'll keep you posted.

Project 365: Day One

I’ve spent the last ten years giving assignments to other people; this assignment is for me.  I’m calling it "Project 365"--the goal is to get one year's worth of posts (365).  Even if it takes me five years. 

This is a completely arbitrary day to begin this project.  It’s not the first of the year. It’s not the first of the month. It’s not even a Monday.  Perhaps it’s a heart thing. Despite my classes starting on Tuesday, today was my last day of "mama" summer.  

Today the last of my two “Gators” moved back up to the university, marking the official, this-is-really-it-folks, end of summer.  The first to go back to school left on Wednesday. I am not actually this one’s mama, but I was for the summer, so the separation is just as hard.

For the most part, I am glowing with a rush of gratitude for the summer we had. It was a summer filled with lots of hard work, but also two blissful, relaxing and long-over due family vacations.  It was a blessed and slow-paced time of making things right, restoring broken places, and reveling with deep appreciation in the weirdness that is us.  

Now it’s over, and this year that feels particularly significant.

I am delighted with where each of my young people is at the start of this new year.  My oldest, Katie,  and our sweet Grace began the summer fragile, exhausted by adulthood, and anxious about life, but both returned to school with greater peace, direction, and confidence in themselves and their plans. I felt grateful and thrilled to see the work that this summer had done in them, and I am excited for their year ahead.   

Those who remained on the farm are moving forward just as much as the two who will have their own apartments. My free-spirit Hallie is working three jobs, going to college, and absolutely blowing my mind, because this is the girl who was content to stay at home, create beautiful things, and daydream. 

My baby, my almost man, is about to take college classes as a high school senior (pray for us) while beginning a new job and filling in as the stand-in man and lifter of heavy things when his Daddy’s away.  

 It’s a sweet place for a mama to be, standing on the sidelines cheering as her young-uns charge into the game with determination.  So, yeah, I am beyond grateful with where we are ending this summer. 

Still, I gotta say, the transition back to school feels especially momentous. This year I realize that--as of today--what Jen Hatmaker dubbed “The Family Years” are essentially over.  All my offspring are finding their own ways into the world brilliantly, but I'm acutely aware that those ways always lead eventually out of the nest--for good, if we've done our jobs right.   

We’ll always be family and always love and enjoy each other, and it will be good.  But we will never live all together in the same way again.  I realize this is a good thing; it was actually the end-goal of this whole clumsy child-rearing thing all along. 

For now, though, I’m sitting here blubbering (thank you, Christy Nockels for providing the accompaniment), and I feel the need to mourn—just for a minute. 

Because we Odells do FAMILY really well. 

I know the passing of this stage will lead us into a new one that is beautiful and rewarding in unimaginable ways, but—just for this evening—I’m going to lean into my happy-sad tears and take the time to say a proper goodbye.

The Sum of my Wisdom

This year I turned 50, a milestone that ideally comes with some hard-earned wisdom to share.  

Instead, I've spent the past six months wondering how this could have happened to someone as young as I am. I swear, I JUST turned 40 a week ago!  

It's been six months since my birthday, and I never did formulate any summary of the lessons I've learned over half a century.  Perhaps time got away from me because I now spend an alarming part of my day running to keep my arteries supple and then doing yoga to stretch and strengthen so that my joints won't seize up.  

And napping--because, what with all that running and yoga, you know....

...what was I talking about?  Oh, wisdom.  

Celebrating the big 5-0

This past week, I moved my oldest child to her new apartment (TWO HOURS AWAY).  Let me tell you, launching your young will motivate you to come up with some wise words like 50 never could.  The weeks prior to her move, I was overwhelmed with the sense that time was running out...

It didn't help that every blog post that crossed my path contained something in the title having to do with "what kids need to know BEFORE they leave home."  (Ulp.)

Did she learn everything I wanted her to learn?  In the short time remaining, I struggled with coming up with a "Top 10" list of truths I wanted to be SURE she knew before she left my home. 

(Struggled is a bit of an understatement.)  

In the end, I cranked out a last-minute compilation resulting from my scattered pondering over the preceding weeks--just before we headed out the door.  It would have to do, because time was officially UP.  The following list was written specifically to MY girl, but I'm thinking it pretty much hits the highlights of my wisdom from 50 years of living.  (It's a good start anyway!)

Celebrating (...well, mostly) my first to leave the nest.

1. Jesus first—even when you are not feeling it. Home is where He is.
2. You are a work in progress; you are enough, and you are worth fighting for.  So is everyone else.  Don't settle for less, and don't give less.
3. You are loved—even when you are not feeling it. LIVE LOVED.
4. The worst person you can lie to is yourself.  
5. Failure is nearly always part of the road to success. Give yourself permission to fail.
6. Surround yourself with positive, whole-hearted people, and endeavor to be one.
7. BE WITH WHOM YOU ARE WITH. (Also known as "put the dang phone down!")  I know she rolled her eyes as she read this one...
8. Don’t worry about your parents’ approval.  You had it the moment you took your first breath.
9. Give grace to everyone--even meanies--remembering that grace is by definition unmerited, and we're all dying for it.
10. You’re stronger than you know, but it’s okay to be weak sometimes—find the friends you can lean on and support.

So, there you have it.  Anyone have anything else to add?

When Do I Rest?

Every January I spend some time thinking about what should be my "word" for the year.  That may sound cheesy, but intentionality is not my strong suit, so I've found the practice a good one.  One word, well-chosen,  reminds me of an important focus for the year and guides my decision-making and prioritizing.  This year that task was tough.  Nearly into February, I was still without a word, still without a focus.  Then one morning, as often happens, something in the Word jumped out at me:

"On the seventh day God had finished his work of creation, so he rested from all his work." --Genesis 2:2

First God finished.  Then He rested.  Honestly, the word that first grabbed me was FINISHED.  Maybe that was my word: FINISH.  I reasoned that God had earned the right to rest, because He had finished His work. Perhaps I needed to focus on finishing things.  Great idea, great word, but the thought of it left me feeling weighed down and on the verge of tears. 

  Because, really, does a wife. a mom, a teacher EVER finish?  Truth be told, I was not resting because I never felt finished. The problem is that I tend to view my roles as a continual and unending work that will not be finished until the kids are grown, until I retire, and until death do us part.  And frankly, I wasn't so sure I could make it to "finished" if I didn't get some rest!

Here's the thing:  The Bible doesn't end at Genesis 2.  A whole lot of Book comes after Genesis, and it's ALL the work of God.  Not only that, I'm living proof that He is STILL working in this world.  What God finished before he rested was the work of creation. 

One work. 

Granted, that work was pretty impressive, but it was not His entire work for all of eternity.  He finished that work, then He rested.  He didn't quit.

In viewing the "big picture" things of life as what had to be finished before I could rest, I was actually hurting my work and God's work in me.  

The cost of never resting is an overwhelming desire to just quit. 

What a relief to read more closely, to let God show me the Heart behind His words.  Yes, I need to finish what I start, and a rest feels much more blissful when it comes after a hard effort that is completed.  The rest, however, is just as much a part of the ultimate work as the finishing.    

Therefore, what I need to give myself permission to do is rest after finishing "the work of _____________."   

Then, with the satisfaction of one job complete and a well-earned rest, I am refreshed to continue in the Great Work to which God has called me.  

Unlimited Potential

By his divine power, God has given us everything we need for living a godly life. We have received all of this by coming to know him, the one who called us to himself by means of his marvelous glory and excellence. And because of his glory and excellence, he has given us great and precious promises. These are the promises that enable you to share his divine nature and escape the world’s corruption caused by human desires. 2 Peter 1:3-4

Last fall, two of my kids joined the Cross Country team for the first time.  Because it is a small school, the team consists of runners in 6th - 12th grade.  

Whether a runner is a varsity runner or a JV runner depends on commitment and race times, not on grade-level.  In fact, one of the faster varsity girls was a 12-year-old sixth grader!

Having inherited my athletic ability (cough, cough), my two athletes were steadfast members of the JV team. As in football and basketball, genetics play a huge role in performing at the elite level.  Although both kids worked hard and made great improvements over the season, there was never really any possibility of them running varsity.  (Even the slow kids on the varsity team were freakishly fast compared to the general population.) 

Their friend Taylor, also a brand new runner, was a different story.  She realized by the third race that she had the potential to be an excellent runner.  By mid-season she was consistently running varsity.  

However, along with that honor came much greater pressure and a much higher level of commitment on her part to maintain her position. She chose to give up many other things in order to focus on her running, because she realized her potential for success.  

It would be easy to look at Taylor's level of commitment compared to my kids and say that her character is greater.  While she does have a great character, it's no greater than that of many other kids on the team--varsity or JV. 

The difference is potential.  

Taylor realized that with total commitment, she could achieve a level of excellence that could win her a spot on a college team and possibly even a scholarship.  

In contrast, even if my kids gave total commitment and cut everything else out of life, they are not likely to get a running scholarship.  Although running is great for them, it is not an area of giftedness for them.  

There is no motivation to sacrifice all other pursuits to focus on running, when they don't have the potential for victory.  (I know, I know, just crossing the finish line is a victory, but hang with me here...)

What if....

what if there were something they could do, some pill they could take, that would GUARANTEE that if they put in the training, they would be Olympic contenders? 

I think we'd see their motivation and commitment level sky-rocket!

In 1 Corinthtians 9:24, Paul urges believers (like you and me) to "run in such a way as to win the prize."  Only here, he is not talking about a physical race, but a spiritual one. 

Unlike running, spiritual excellence is not a matter of genetics. It's a matter of the Gospel.

Yet I wonder how many Christians are content to be on the "JV" team spiritually, cheering the varsity team enthusiastically, but unwilling to give the commitment and sacrifice required to live victoriously?  

Although there are a multitude of reasons why, I suspect that often it's because   we don't believe we have the potential for victory.  We believe that no matter how hard we strive, we can't measure up.

How easy it is to look at our flawed and sinful selves and assume that holiness is reserved for those rare individuals who are "naturally" spiritual.

IT'S A LIE.

Every believer has the potential for holiness.

The Bible is very clear that EVERY follower of Christ is reborn with everything required to live a godly life and participate in God's work of restoration in this world.  

I have the potential to be a godly, victorious woman, despite my less than victorious past.  I am more than a conqueror regardless of my natural bent, because Christ has shared HIS divine nature with me.  It's not about MY ability, it's about HIS.

Can you see?  There is no reason for any believer to walk in defeat.  We simply need to grasp the reality and the source of our potential, and then train hard because we know that victory is guaranteed.

#1461-#1482

1461. October days, just beginning to be bearable.

1462. Newest calf suckling his momma.

1463. Stacey B. jogging and chatting with Reed to keep his pace up and give him company.

1464. Wednesday classes- so delightful because of our history together.

1465. Good attitudes when I get tough about school work.

1466. Dinner on the porch.

1467. Dark pewter swirls of cloud about to unload on the farm.

1468. 7th grade Abby, XC cheerleader (and remarkable runner!)

1469. Personal Records (PR) for both kids.

1470. Baby #4-jet black body and "Dumbo" face--so much like his  momma.

1471. Forgiveness.

1472. Cool run.

1473. Teenagers who think about and wrestle with the Word of God.

1474. Baby #5, a bull with a zebra-striped tail, up and romping within an hour.

1475. A payoff for Reed's perseverance in running: measurable progress.

1476. Curious calves.

1477. Brother's big block head--just like his Daddy.

1478. Hysterical game of tag between an inquisitive calf and an indignant farm cat.

1479. The clean look of a freshly-mowed lawn.

1480. Sweet team member who uses a "down" week to encourage my boy for three HARD miles.

1481. The cautious, quiet determination of Happy Girl.

1482. Two PRs on a very difficult course.

#1361-#1380

1361. A man who loves me even when I've failed him

1362. Tired, happy teenagers dancing around the gym.

1363.  Sweet Hannah: serious about what matters, light-hearted about everything else.

1364. Mad dash through the airport after a flight delay.

1365. Making our connection just before they close the doors.

1366. "Checked" carry-ons, so we had nothing to carry as we ran!

1367. Big breath of Montana air.

1368.  Sharing a room with my little sister again for a few days.

1369. Short run in the morning, struggling to suck enough oxygen out of the thin mountain air.

1370. Re-connecting with friends at a reunion.

1371.  Morning coffee with my dad.

1372.  Walking the Sourdough trail.

1373. Clear-to-the-bottom creeks.

1374.  Making new friends from old acquaintances.

1375. Cowboy's voice over the phone lines.

1376. The University of Grandpa--every conversation an education.

1377. Great fiddle music.

1378.  Chilly bedroom (in AUGUST!) and a thick down blanket.

1379. Hike to Palisade Falls.

1380.  Mountain beauty that cries out that God is creative, Almighty and GOOD.

FMF: Change

Five Minute Friday and the word is: CHANGE

GO

Such a fitting word for this girl! It seems the more I want things to stay the same, the more they change.

Homes: 12 different houses in 20 years of marriage.

The cowboy's career: because he is so curious and ambitious, (and because there's no money in just being a cowboy).

Children growing up too fast: this week my oldest started college and my youngest high school.  The empty nest looms large....

My body: What can I say? I'm 48. THE Change is beginning to rear its ugly head.

Every new change vividly reveals that I am in a losing battle for sameness, for constancy.  It's a battle that can't be won, because I am not the One in control.

And He never promises things will stay the same--only that He is working through all of the changes.

 What if....I just quit fighting?

What if, instead of looking at the dizzying change around me, I fixed my eyes on the God who is the SAME yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Rather than grasping at people and situations and trying to take control so I can feel secure, what if I simply let go and trusted the One who IS in control over all?

What if I found my security in my unchanging God, rather than my ever changing circumstances?

How beautiful could that be?

So my life is a rollercoaster...

Maybe I need to just throw my hands up and enjoy the ride!

STOP

Walking in Trust

 Then Jesus told him, “You believe because you have seen me. Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.”  John 20:29

It's a beautiful thing to see my daughter work with her horse Charlie. Looking through the pictures her shutterbug sister snapped this week, I was intrigued by photos of her with the horse blindfolded.

"What's with the blind fold?"

Her response was interesting.

"I need him to learn to respond to direction from me without having to see what I'm doing."

Mistreated as a colt, Charlie has always been very skittish, set to fleeing by the slightest rustle. Even though nearly a decade has passed, he doesn't trust many people to keep him safe, because it was people who hurt him.

Katie has worked patiently and gently to earn his trust.  Like a puppy, Charlie loves her and is fairly willing to obey her.  However, she realized over a few sessions that he is not "feeling" her commands, such as a slight leaning in one direction before a turn.  Instead, he will not move until he can see the actual movement of the reins in her hands executing the "turn" command.

When she is not riding on him, he sticks like glue to her side rather than heeding her directions to stay put.  It's as if his trust depends upon his ability to lay eyes on her.

Hence the blindfold.  Her thinking is that if he cannot see, the horse will be forced to use his other senses to connect with her--to extend his trust in her to uncertain situations.

I'm no horse whisperer;  I have no idea if what she's doing will work.

I do, however, see quite a bit of myself in that skittish horse.

I love Jesus and I trust Him completely.

In theory.

But not always in practice.

Instead of obeying His subtle prompts, I hesitate and wait until I can see clear movement.  I want to see what He is doing before I follow.

Katie's teaching tactic with Charlie stirs me because it feels so very familiar.

Lately I have been feeling a bit like a flighty horse out on an unfamiliar trail on a windy day.  Unknown things are flying at me and I'm not sure which is the direction to safety.  To make matters worse,  instead of showing me the way to go, it seems that God is BLINDFOLDING me!

But looking at pictures of my girl with that scared, blindfolded horse, I had the most beautiful A-HA moment.   It suddenly dawned on me that perhaps the Lord has put on me a blindfold so that He can remove a veil.  

My ability to see is hindering my ability to KNOW.

What I SEE when I am not blindfolded are my circumstances, and they are rather unsettling.

I have a hunch that God's intent in blindfolding me is not to make me less secure, but to keep me from bolting.  He can't lead me very effectively if my head is whipping around frantically looking for all the real and imagined threats about me.

The blindfold stills me and forces me to rely on senses other than sight.  Blindfolded, I can't guide myself-- so I must listen and feel for the guidance that is there, but which I cannot see.  I have to learn to rely on what I KNOW of Him.

Like Katie with the horse, He may have removed my ability to see Him for a time, but He has not removed His presence from my life. I must learn to trust Him on a deeper level and learn a new, closer, more dependent, but ultimately much safer way of following Him.

This glimpse He gave me today is a beginning.  I feel now not terrified by my inability to see, but calmed. I cannot see the way to go, but I can trust the One who leads.

As I learn to follow and know without seeing, I find sweet rest.

#1271-#1290

1271. Boy birthday parties: full of laughter, noise and so much sweat!


1272. Rugs on the fence getting washed by the rain and dried by the sun.

1273. The first dip into a freshly opened jar of peanut butter.

1274. Fifty-eight students.  The Lord provides and I pray will use me!

1275. Chatty car ride with Matty W.--love that boy!

1276. Sir William, the neighbor's orphaned calf.

1277. Songbird nursing the failing calf with gentle determination.

1278. Hard eucharisteo: Orphans sometimes die.

1279. Tickets to Montana: The promise of a week of restoration from the beauty of the mountains and my parents' hearts.

1280.  Tiny frog perched on a bush by the wash shed.

1281. Much needed rain followed by cooler, dryer air.

1282. Laughter over a great example of irony:  my entire garden died, but potatoes are sprouting in the refrigerator!

1283. Movie night with a group young women who are fun in all the right ways.

1284. The Odell brothers keeping us in stitches with hysterical tales of their mischievous childhood.

1285. Deepening friendships with acquaintances.

1286. Lilli on the horse: "I'm queen!"

1287. Four-year-old cutie in light-up pink cowboy boots.

1288. Three brothers fishing and the youngest catching the most!

1289. Beth Moore's teaching on Revelation: showing the awe and glory of Christ and removing the dread.

1290. Laughing with my kids.