Perspective

Why do parents and their kids react to phone calls (or any communication) with each other so differently? Whether they’re little or grown, when mom or dad calls out to their progeny, the children always seem absorbed in something infinitely more important. But when the kids holler for Mommy or Daddy, boom! The requested parent would answer or appear.  Strangely enough, when the children are grown, the tableau repeats itself: mom or dad drop in (if they live nearby) or call, or nowadays, text or try to video chat and don’t you know, little Billy or Zoe, all grown up, is just far too busy to spend any quality time with the person who gave them life. But the kids, all “grown up,” call at any hour of the day, their call is answered, or at least promptly returned if missed. 

That “person,” the parent, also happened to have people who gave her life: parents. Parents would call out to her when she was on the porch playing Barbies, and she’d either not hear them or completely ignore them. And when this person grew up, his parents would want to call or be called, visit or be visited. Sometimes it was a chore, an interruption to things he had planned or was doing. Sometimes he’d call, maybe even drive down to see them. She’d make it a habit to call her parents every Sunday at eight. True, though, when their parents would call them or want to visit outside of scheduled times, he or she would let out an audible sigh as if the inconvenience was just too much. Funny enough, they came to enjoy the calls, the visits, the “interruptions “ to their everyday life. 

 

And herein is my dilemma. My head tells me children are supposed to push away from their parents, to become their own person, to fulfill the purpose God has for each of them. I know perfectly well the umbilical cord was cut minutes after each of them was born, and nothing I do can reconnect it. But my heart? Oh, my heart hurts, and yearns to reach out to grasp every possible moment with each of my daughters, and with each of my granddaughters. I don’t want to be relegated to a corner of their lives—I want to be front and center. 

Let’s get real, though. Are my expectations for my relationship with my children in line with my relationship with my parents when they were alive? Did I really include my parents in every facet of my life or am I merely romanticizing our interactions? Wasn’t I just as wrapped up in my everyday minutia? 

Depends on the perspective, I guess.

God give me the peace and wisdom to balance all my relationships with those you have blessed me with.

Unraveling

Have you ever had a sweater or a dress with a loose thread? You notice it, pull on it, thinking it will just be a quick fix, and before you know it there is a quarter-sized hole in the sweater or the dress' hem has all come undone. That is how I feel right now...undone, unraveled, lost. Yes, I am a child of God, yes Jesus is my savior. But I am lost; the fabric of my life I took for granted is unraveling.  

A  month ago I had it all figured out (my life for the next decade). I would have this second surgery to fix a pesky hiatal hernia and to be able to eat without vomiting, then I would be home in two days, three max, and go on to tutor and be a nana and just, well, live my life. I wasn't even worried, and I am embarrassed to say I did not even pray before they put me to sleep. The last two things I remember? Alex crying as he was praying for me, something out of Jeremiah, and the anesthesiologist holding the mask way too firmly on my face; I became claustrophobic, panicked, and then finally prayed a quick prayer a split second before I went out. 

Hours, no, days, went by uncounted. Pain, trouble breathing, fear, and confusion were all accompanied by a never-ending parade of nurses, doctors, medical tests, hushed voices, and a hurried transfer to the ICU. What was happening? I was supposed to go home today. Where is Alex? Why can't I breathe? A doctor inserted a chest tube into my lungs. More CT scans. Suddenly I am in pre-op again, this time for emergency surgery. Again, hours, then days, then nights drift by unnoticed. At some point, I am transferred to another floor. I drift off, and wake up to my daughter, Mandy, putting lotion on my face. How did she get here from Malaysia? More days pass, hours of sameness broken only by the incessant beeps of the IV pump and the ongoing (and welcome) ministrations of nurses and doctors. Weeks go by until I am finally allowed to go home. Home. What a wonderful word. Everything will be ok, it will all be better, I will be home soon. The unraveling would stop--I would get my life back.

Oh, I am such a silly, silly human. Home for nearly four weeks already, the unraveling continues. The world continues to rotate on its axis without me--laundry, scheduling, cleaning, tutoring, taking care of chickens, paying the bills, and walking the dogs. I am no longer the nurturer, the caregiver; instead, I am dependent on others to take care of me. And the more I resist, the more miserable I feel; despite all my efforts, I could not rewind that yarn back into the ball that was my previous life (note the arrogance?). What I perceived as a disaster, as a loss of how things used to be, is in actuality a blessing, as God humbles me and lays out His plan for me.  Proverbs 16:9 says: “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps."

Yes, the fabric of my life unraveled this year, as it has many times before. But God continues to weave a more perfect tapestry for my life with His plans, taking my imperfections and errant stitches and perfecting me.

Oh, Lord, teach me and show me your ways.

"Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit’ — yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say”  (James 4:13-15 ESV)

 

Decisions, Decisions

Every day I make hundreds of decisions, most of them without any thought at all. Do I press the snooze button once or twice? Coffee or Nespresso? Bra or no bra? Curl my hair or put it up? Eye makeup or not? Pick up library books today? Throughout the day, the week, and the months, I am constantly making decisions, big and small, with very little thought as to the choices I make. Sadly I make these decisions often in a vacuum, not even bothering to get input from friends and family, and worse of all, not asking God for wisdom or discernment. This habit of counting on my own knowledge and experience to make decisions has resulted in me being inordinately cocky and sure of myself when making small decisions or even more important ones. 

For most decisions my husband and I consult each other, talk about the options, research it, and then discuss it again, eventually landing on either a mutually agreed upon outcome or, at least a compromise. Moving, buying an RV, investments, when to retire, and whether or not we should get two dogs have all been on the decision plate, and whether it is our decision-making prowess or sheer dumb luck, we have made some really great choices. But what about those decisions we regret? Life choices we keep buried in our closet, skeletons of our past rattling in the dark, whispering "What were you thinking?" Sure we learn from those ill-fated choices, but why did we make those mistakes to begin with?

Pride. Simple, sinful pride, the created pretending to be the creator, the reader presuming to be the author. Basing decisions on gut feelings or out of sanctimonious self-love without even a glimpse or a nod to the One who created us. Every single decision made in that vacuum of self without even so much as a glance at God's word or introspective look into the soul to ask the Holy Spirit within me what I should do has turned out poorly, some even disastrously; my past is riddled with the remnants of these poor choices. 

But I do not always just depend on myself for decision making; I go to others, to "experts." For financial decisions, I seek out CPAs and investment advisors, and lawyers assist me with legal advice. For medical concerns, I seek out doctors and nurses and online reputable sources. Parenting? Other parents, of course, and the myriad self-proclaimed parenting experts in print and online. Ah, online, the internet, where I can google anything and get a million recommendations and answers in a fraction of a second, without any assurance of the validity of these answers. I need to pay more attention to the fact that these so-called experts, the sources of information, are also part of the creation, and not the creator; putting such a heavy responsibility on the backs and minds of mere humans or the products they have written is foolhardy.

Why this tendency to ignore the Creator when searching for answers to my problems or help in making a choice? As a Christian and a believer in all that the Nicene Creed pronounces, I of all people should turn first to God for decision-making dilemmas. Only sometimes is that my initial tendency. Case in point: I have been struggling with a health issue for over a year; nothing is working out like the medical experts said it would. Now a bigger decision looms before me, and my first impulse is to ask Dr. Google or talk to friends and neighbors, to share my woes and thereby hope to receive wise advice.  The next stop is the medical community, and I beg the doctor to tell me what to do, to reassure me all is well and I am making the right decision. How can a mere man, created by the same God, have better advice than the one who made him?

So I pray. Sure I still talk to friends and family and experts, but first I talk to God about it. He already knows the outcome, and sure the outcome may not be one I desire, but it will be far better than if I go blindly down my own road without God's footsteps beside me.

Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. The wicked are not so but are like chaff that the wind drives away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; (Psalm 1:1-6 ESV)