For as long as I can remember, there has been this rusty old pickup truck (I'm trying to find the symbolism between me and rusty old trucks) sitting beside this shed on Highway 99. I have admired it and have told myself time and time again that "one of these days" I am going to stop and snap a few pictures of it.
Last week, as I was driving home from work and approaching the shed, I glanced to my right as I have hundreds of times before. My heart instantly sank as I discovered that the truck...was gone. As it was the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, and even to this day. Gone.
In front of the shed is a "for lease" sign, so I can only assume that the truck...isn't coming back.
This truck had settled into the scenery on my drive. It was something I glanced at every day. Every day. It was something I looked forward to seeing. It was routine... It was familiar... And now it was gone.
I always have my camera with me. Why had I never stopped in the 8 years that I've been driving that stretch of Highway? What were my excuses? Twice a day, five days a week. 8 years. I had plenty of opportunities, but never "found" the time.
As I've sat back and wondered this past week, I've also wrestled with the important parts of my life which hold opportunities, but I never find the time for. Or the priorities in my life that are so far out of order. The people that surround me. Do I take the time? Do I make the time?
Thinking about this has been a pretty dramatic reality check for me. Why is it that the things in my life, and the people in my life seem to frequently take the back burner? How is it that the ones that we cherish the most, the ones that matter the most sometimes fade into the distance? Why do I say, "I'll call you tomorrow" and never follow through with my promise?
I often find myself failing miserably at taking advantage of the "now" moments. The opportunities that are staring me in the face and I turn from.
Life is short. Life is fragile. And lives are a blessing.
I have some catching up to do!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Discipline
Ah, that 10-letter word that no one really wants to hear!
This year for Lent, my son decided to give up video games and I was so incredibly stunned when he shared his decision with me. Stunned...and proud.
Giving something up, isn't easy. Especially when it's a pretty big part of your life. Nick giving video games up would be the equivalent to me giving up...Diet Coke. But come on, let's get realistic! :) Actually, at $7.48/24 pack plus the $1.20 deposit you pay, giving up Diet Coke is sounding a little bit more appealing! (for me, the addict)
Anyway...back to my son and his video games. Ever since the release of Call of Duty Modern Warfare2, Nick has been glued to the television every free second he has. And then you factor in the concept of having the opportunity to chat live with his friends and family? Let's just say that his attention is entirely focused on one thing. ...getting the most "kills."
When he explained to me his decision to give it up for Lent, I thought there was no way. None! I also thought about how wonderful it would be to have his attention "back" as well as my room! (Unfortunately between his room and mine there is only one Internet connection. Lucky me!)
Somewhere along the road between what I was taught and what they are teaching now in regards to Lent, has changed. Apparently, it is acceptable during this season to do/eat whatever you gave up on Sundays in remembrance of what Christ did for us. And we are to reflect on that as we partake in whatever it is that we have given up. ...Somehow I find it hard to believe that as Nick is shooting a "cyber-soldier" he's praising Jesus or thanking God. But I have allowed him to play his XBox Live on Sundays.
However, yesterday...there was a slight problem. As he was interacting with friends he made the decision to shut the rest of the world (namely his mom) ...out. When asked to help his grandpa put a desk together, it was instant attitude. A little while later, something else came up that I questioned him about and there was no response from him whatsoever. Oh wait, there was something. It was the "eye roll, hands on the sides, turn the head, and completely ignore response." Fine. I'm the one in control..."It's ok, Nick. You're done playing that game for the day." I grabbed it out of the XBox, placed it in its cover, and found a good spot for it to sit. Maybe until next Sunday, maybe until Easter. I haven't decided yet.
I had to work last night at the church and the following is the text message conversation Nick and I had...
I'm assuming he caught my drift, because that was the end of the text conversation.
Discipline isn't easy. But discipline is necessary. Embrace it. It's usually for your best interest.
This year for Lent, my son decided to give up video games and I was so incredibly stunned when he shared his decision with me. Stunned...and proud.
Giving something up, isn't easy. Especially when it's a pretty big part of your life. Nick giving video games up would be the equivalent to me giving up...Diet Coke. But come on, let's get realistic! :) Actually, at $7.48/24 pack plus the $1.20 deposit you pay, giving up Diet Coke is sounding a little bit more appealing! (for me, the addict)
Anyway...back to my son and his video games. Ever since the release of Call of Duty Modern Warfare2, Nick has been glued to the television every free second he has. And then you factor in the concept of having the opportunity to chat live with his friends and family? Let's just say that his attention is entirely focused on one thing. ...getting the most "kills."
When he explained to me his decision to give it up for Lent, I thought there was no way. None! I also thought about how wonderful it would be to have his attention "back" as well as my room! (Unfortunately between his room and mine there is only one Internet connection. Lucky me!)
Somewhere along the road between what I was taught and what they are teaching now in regards to Lent, has changed. Apparently, it is acceptable during this season to do/eat whatever you gave up on Sundays in remembrance of what Christ did for us. And we are to reflect on that as we partake in whatever it is that we have given up. ...Somehow I find it hard to believe that as Nick is shooting a "cyber-soldier" he's praising Jesus or thanking God. But I have allowed him to play his XBox Live on Sundays.
However, yesterday...there was a slight problem. As he was interacting with friends he made the decision to shut the rest of the world (namely his mom) ...out. When asked to help his grandpa put a desk together, it was instant attitude. A little while later, something else came up that I questioned him about and there was no response from him whatsoever. Oh wait, there was something. It was the "eye roll, hands on the sides, turn the head, and completely ignore response." Fine. I'm the one in control..."It's ok, Nick. You're done playing that game for the day." I grabbed it out of the XBox, placed it in its cover, and found a good spot for it to sit. Maybe until next Sunday, maybe until Easter. I haven't decided yet.
I had to work last night at the church and the following is the text message conversation Nick and I had...
N: Whatd yOu do with call of duty
M: Hid it
M: Hid it
N: Where
pause....
N: I want to play woth my friends
M: You can wait
N: No theyll be off
N: Come on
N: Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please tell me where it is
N: Hello
M: Nick, I'm working and you're making this situation worse. You can wait until I get home or you can wait until Easter
I'm assuming he caught my drift, because that was the end of the text conversation.
I have learned that the only thing worse than being disciplined...is having to discipline. Especially your child. I take no pleasure in telling him no, regardless of how empowering it is to sometimes play the "I'm the parent" card. It's not fun. But sometimes you just have to do it.
Maybe some of you can see where this is going, but as I was at the church last night and all of this had unfolded, I was reminded of how similar the reactions are when our God, disciplines us.
Dare we ever roll our eyes? (maybe not literally) Hands on our hips? What about the "I'm just going to look away." Does it ever change things? Maybe for a "soft" mother who can't bear to tell her child no. But for God? If we stand there, batting our eyelashes with a puppy dog face, uttering the words "please" fifteen times, do we expect Him to just give in? And how many times do we plea with him over and over, and in his silence say, "hello?"Discipline isn't easy. But discipline is necessary. Embrace it. It's usually for your best interest.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The Rusty Toy Truck
Last Saturday I spent part of the afternoon with my son and nephew in tow. We took a little trip into Marysville, parked the car, grabbed some ice cream and took a little stroll.
We stopped into one of the many antique shops and looked around. I enjoy antiques. The last time I visited this particular store was probably about seven years ago when my grandparents came to visit. As we walked down the street, a memory consumed me. It was of my grandpa running as fast as his 80 year old legs would take him, down the street with my son. I remember Nick laughing and I remember the joy I felt as I watched the two of them. Nick in his youth and my grandpa displaying his in his own glory.
It is an amazingly sweet memory for me to have.
As I was looking around I couldn't help but think of how each item must have had its own little memory. The history behind each article of clothing, each picture on the wall, every dish that sat in the display case, every toy that lined the shelves. If only antiques could talk...
We stood and browsed through the toys. My nephew was checking out a car, Nick picked up a toy gun, and I had my eyes fixed on this rusty old metal Tonka pickup truck. It was only $21 and I'm sure nothing extremely "special," but I fell in love with it.
We walked through the rest of the store yet I couldn't get my thoughts off of that truck. Stopping back at the counter, I picked it up again, studied it, and then sat it back down.
We walked out of the store and to the river bottoms. The entire time I could not get that silly little truck out of my mind. Why did it fascinate me so?
I didn't go back and purchase it, although the thought crossed my mind (and still does). Who would have thought that a 1960-something toy pick-up truck would have such an impact on me and consume my thoughts?
I think that we all have our own little things that "fixate" us. This particular item that I found stirred up some emotions that are healthy for me to think about.
My life has a lot in common with that toy truck. Throughout my years I have placed it in the hands of people that have knowingly and unknowingly abused me. There have been times when I've felt left in the rain and my exterior has rusted as a result. I've had my share of moments in which I have felt abandoned and alone. Knocked around, run through the mud, and lost in the shuffle.
However, I am blessed to have also been nurtured and cared for. I have watched my life recover from being left in the rain, have (figuratively) gone through a "detail" and invested in a new paint job, so to speak. I cherish the moments that I have alone and rather than feeling abandoned I feel grateful. The times I feel knocked around, run through the mud and lost in the shuffle are generally moments in which I consider reality checks. Subtle hints to shift my focus on things that truly matter rather than dwelling on that which I can't control.
My life doesn't carry a price tag, such as that little truck. And unlike the joy of a little child unwrapping his gift and eventually losing interest in it, leaving it outside to be forgotten; I am loved, just as I am, forever.
We stopped into one of the many antique shops and looked around. I enjoy antiques. The last time I visited this particular store was probably about seven years ago when my grandparents came to visit. As we walked down the street, a memory consumed me. It was of my grandpa running as fast as his 80 year old legs would take him, down the street with my son. I remember Nick laughing and I remember the joy I felt as I watched the two of them. Nick in his youth and my grandpa displaying his in his own glory.
It is an amazingly sweet memory for me to have.
As I was looking around I couldn't help but think of how each item must have had its own little memory. The history behind each article of clothing, each picture on the wall, every dish that sat in the display case, every toy that lined the shelves. If only antiques could talk...
We stood and browsed through the toys. My nephew was checking out a car, Nick picked up a toy gun, and I had my eyes fixed on this rusty old metal Tonka pickup truck. It was only $21 and I'm sure nothing extremely "special," but I fell in love with it.
We walked through the rest of the store yet I couldn't get my thoughts off of that truck. Stopping back at the counter, I picked it up again, studied it, and then sat it back down.
We walked out of the store and to the river bottoms. The entire time I could not get that silly little truck out of my mind. Why did it fascinate me so?
I didn't go back and purchase it, although the thought crossed my mind (and still does). Who would have thought that a 1960-something toy pick-up truck would have such an impact on me and consume my thoughts?
I think that we all have our own little things that "fixate" us. This particular item that I found stirred up some emotions that are healthy for me to think about.
My life has a lot in common with that toy truck. Throughout my years I have placed it in the hands of people that have knowingly and unknowingly abused me. There have been times when I've felt left in the rain and my exterior has rusted as a result. I've had my share of moments in which I have felt abandoned and alone. Knocked around, run through the mud, and lost in the shuffle.
However, I am blessed to have also been nurtured and cared for. I have watched my life recover from being left in the rain, have (figuratively) gone through a "detail" and invested in a new paint job, so to speak. I cherish the moments that I have alone and rather than feeling abandoned I feel grateful. The times I feel knocked around, run through the mud and lost in the shuffle are generally moments in which I consider reality checks. Subtle hints to shift my focus on things that truly matter rather than dwelling on that which I can't control.
My life doesn't carry a price tag, such as that little truck. And unlike the joy of a little child unwrapping his gift and eventually losing interest in it, leaving it outside to be forgotten; I am loved, just as I am, forever.
No one will be able to stand up against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.
-Joshua 1:5
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
When the Heart Dances
Have you ever had one of those moments when you've felt as though your heart has literally danced inside your chest? Every once in a while I have those moments.
...catching a glimpse of a beautiful sunset
...listening to my son giggle (yes, he still giggles)
...talking with an old friend
This week I have had some pretty incredible things happen.On Monday I was able to chat with a mom in the nursery at church. A fairly ordinary conversation that generated a ton of "hope." And hope...makes my heart dance more than anything!
That same night, I discovered that a family of four children from a recovery group live right around the corner from me. Cutest kids in the world. Last night as I was pulling around the corner to my house I noticed they were outside playing. I slowly drove past them, waved and continued on. I no sooner step out of my car and there was the second oldest boy, standing behind my car on his scooter with this huge grin as if to welcome me home. He hugged me and we chatted for a bit. Within moments of being inside the house I looked out the window to see three of the four standing out front, so I immediately rushed out to love on the others.
A few months ago, a co-worker of mine and his girlfriend were expecting the birth of their first child. I was excited for them and it was amazing to see and hear the excitement as they prepared for her arrival.
After being absent from work for a few days and not hearing from him, my joy of anticipating the news turned to fear that something was wrong. Finally, three days later a phone call came in. But rather than the tone of happiness coming from a first time father, I heard something else and it was more than mere exhaustion.
Delora Sunshine is what they named her and he gave me a summary of her weight and length, minor details of the labor and then as his voice began to crack, he shared the news of her being born with Down Syndrome. I sat on the phone with him for at least a half an hour as he worked through his emotions.
Throughout the pregnancy there was no indication that there was anything wrong with the baby. So now along with the newness of parenting, they instantly had to adjust to being the parents of a child with special needs.
He has an amazing heart and is a very wise individual. Immediately I knew, that if anyone could cope with this...it would be the two of them.
How can something so sad make my heart dance? Read on...
During the phone conversation with my co-worker, he had shared the first 24 hours of their journey with me. They questioned whether or not they were going to keep her or give her up for adoption. In his next breath he said, "But how messed up would that be?" He continued and said, "She chose us." Now at this point in time, I thought, 'Ok...you're getting close but I'm not yet going to bring up the fact that I believe God chose her for you.' The conversation continued and this was it: He said, "We've spoken to our midwives and they have encouraged us to get involved with a support group." (...I think I know where this is going...) "And that means we are more than likely going to need to find a church." Ta-da!!! Absolutely!!!
My heart danced.
In the weeks to follow, I was blessed to have the opportunity to view a slide show of pictures from Delora's birth. I say blessed, but there was a lot of unsettled emotion as I watched it. I can't imagine being in their shoes. Yet even though I can't imagine it...I am a firm believer that our God does not give us more than we can handle. And in the past few months I have witnessed two
non-believers step...rather leap into this whole new life with such strength and courage. And there is no greater proof that the Almighty exists than to see Him work in the life of someone like this. My heart dances!
So yesterday as I was catching up with my co-worker, he was telling me about the "demand" of Down Syndrome adoptions (sounds a little funny, I know), especially among Christians. He said that most of them believe that God brings them into the world for a reason (as opposed to the critical belief that they are born because of improper care during pregnancy). And that while some people don't feel they can handle raising a child with special needs, He places them in families that can. He mentioned that he's been told that God gave Delora to them for a purpose.
...Yes, he sure did! My heart began to do a little jig!
It was then that I mentioned how I feel in regards to my own spiritual growth. When I was pregnant with Nick it was out of wedlock and I could have easily been (and I'm sure I was) "looked down" upon by a lot of people. But even through my sin in this situation I have seen such a positive purpose for my circumstance. And I am blessed beyond measure.
To end our conversation, my co-worker looked at me and said, "Don't beat yourself up over it too much. Marisa and I had Delora out of wedlock too." I laughed hysterically...and as I walked out the door of my office to head home, my heart danced because he seems one step closer to allowing his heart to dance as well.
...catching a glimpse of a beautiful sunset
...listening to my son giggle (yes, he still giggles)
...talking with an old friend
This week I have had some pretty incredible things happen.On Monday I was able to chat with a mom in the nursery at church. A fairly ordinary conversation that generated a ton of "hope." And hope...makes my heart dance more than anything!
That same night, I discovered that a family of four children from a recovery group live right around the corner from me. Cutest kids in the world. Last night as I was pulling around the corner to my house I noticed they were outside playing. I slowly drove past them, waved and continued on. I no sooner step out of my car and there was the second oldest boy, standing behind my car on his scooter with this huge grin as if to welcome me home. He hugged me and we chatted for a bit. Within moments of being inside the house I looked out the window to see three of the four standing out front, so I immediately rushed out to love on the others.
A few months ago, a co-worker of mine and his girlfriend were expecting the birth of their first child. I was excited for them and it was amazing to see and hear the excitement as they prepared for her arrival.
After being absent from work for a few days and not hearing from him, my joy of anticipating the news turned to fear that something was wrong. Finally, three days later a phone call came in. But rather than the tone of happiness coming from a first time father, I heard something else and it was more than mere exhaustion.
Delora Sunshine is what they named her and he gave me a summary of her weight and length, minor details of the labor and then as his voice began to crack, he shared the news of her being born with Down Syndrome. I sat on the phone with him for at least a half an hour as he worked through his emotions.
Throughout the pregnancy there was no indication that there was anything wrong with the baby. So now along with the newness of parenting, they instantly had to adjust to being the parents of a child with special needs.
He has an amazing heart and is a very wise individual. Immediately I knew, that if anyone could cope with this...it would be the two of them.
How can something so sad make my heart dance? Read on...
During the phone conversation with my co-worker, he had shared the first 24 hours of their journey with me. They questioned whether or not they were going to keep her or give her up for adoption. In his next breath he said, "But how messed up would that be?" He continued and said, "She chose us." Now at this point in time, I thought, 'Ok...you're getting close but I'm not yet going to bring up the fact that I believe God chose her for you.' The conversation continued and this was it: He said, "We've spoken to our midwives and they have encouraged us to get involved with a support group." (...I think I know where this is going...) "And that means we are more than likely going to need to find a church." Ta-da!!! Absolutely!!!
My heart danced.
In the weeks to follow, I was blessed to have the opportunity to view a slide show of pictures from Delora's birth. I say blessed, but there was a lot of unsettled emotion as I watched it. I can't imagine being in their shoes. Yet even though I can't imagine it...I am a firm believer that our God does not give us more than we can handle. And in the past few months I have witnessed two
non-believers step...rather leap into this whole new life with such strength and courage. And there is no greater proof that the Almighty exists than to see Him work in the life of someone like this. My heart dances!
So yesterday as I was catching up with my co-worker, he was telling me about the "demand" of Down Syndrome adoptions (sounds a little funny, I know), especially among Christians. He said that most of them believe that God brings them into the world for a reason (as opposed to the critical belief that they are born because of improper care during pregnancy). And that while some people don't feel they can handle raising a child with special needs, He places them in families that can. He mentioned that he's been told that God gave Delora to them for a purpose.
...Yes, he sure did! My heart began to do a little jig!
It was then that I mentioned how I feel in regards to my own spiritual growth. When I was pregnant with Nick it was out of wedlock and I could have easily been (and I'm sure I was) "looked down" upon by a lot of people. But even through my sin in this situation I have seen such a positive purpose for my circumstance. And I am blessed beyond measure.
To end our conversation, my co-worker looked at me and said, "Don't beat yourself up over it too much. Marisa and I had Delora out of wedlock too." I laughed hysterically...and as I walked out the door of my office to head home, my heart danced because he seems one step closer to allowing his heart to dance as well.
The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song. -Psalm 28:7
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