Great tranquility of heart is his who cares for neither praise nor blame. ~ Thomas a` Kempis
Been thinking a lot about the above quote. The idea that one can care for neither praise nor blame seems rather freeing. Think I've mentioned this before, but I am such a people pleaser. What people think of me, how they feel about me is entirely too important.
For instance, with this blog, I've often worried about what others think when they're reading it. Will they approve or think that what I've written is stupid? It matters entirely too much. I want so badly to be accepted - to be highly thought of. Wonder if I could get out from under this curse, the curse of people- pleasing, what life would be like for me.
I must say, as I've grown older it's become much easier to resist the need to please. But I don't think I've made it to the "tranquility of heart" thing yet. When people tell me I've done a good job with something, my heart does sommersaults. I'm so excited, feel so good about myself. But, when someone seems disappointed, even angry, over something I've done, my stomach sinks to my knees. Oh no, I've let someone down.
Why do we put people up on pedestals anyway? One thing I've discovered about the people I've ever placed up there, it hasn't taken long for them to topple off. Not necessarily because they did something wrong, but, mostly, because they failed to live up to all of MY expectations. Really isn't fair when I think about it. I mean, who's perfect? No one this side of heaven is.
So one thing I've decided, I need to stop putting people up on a pedestal. It isn't fair to them. It isn't fair to me. Only One really belongs up there, One who will never topple off. So, I'll do everyone in my life a favor and keep them off "the pedestal." In the meanwhile, I'll strive to achieve that "tranquility of heart" that sounds oh-so-freeing.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
In The Darkness of His Hand
This particular journal entry was written in my second year of teaching. It was prediagnosis and really describes how life felt to me at this point. Times were pretty tough before I was diagnosed with bipolar. Anxiety and depression were constant and unwelcome companions. Life is so much better now. I can honestly say that, though the journey was difficult, the freedom I experience now is worth all the pain I endured then. Hope this is helpful to any of you who may be going through "dark times." Remember whose hand you're in and trust that he is taking you to a good place, a place of freedom.
Spring, 1999
Today, while I was walking out of school, , I saw a butterfly trapped in the building. It was trying to escape by beating itself against a closed window. Feeling sorry for the little guy, I decided to carry it to freedom. As I took the butterfly in my hands, I felt pain for it. I knew it was scared. It couldn’t understand what I was doing. But, once I got outside the building and let it go, it floated happily away.
Sometimes, I feel like that butterfly. Beating myself against a closed window, I try in vain to find my way to freedom. Then, a hand encloses me and carries me off. Does the One who holds me in His hand feel pain for me, knowing that I don’t really understand what He’s doing; that I’m scared and confused in the darkness of His hand? Does He feel for me even though his plan means the difference between life and death?
I’m sure that butterfly wasn’t asking for a trip outside that day. But I also know that if I hadn’t carried it off, it would have been lying dead in the windowsill the next morning. I also know that, were God to ask me, I would choose a different path to freedom.
Tonight, when I went to unload my car, the exact same type of butterfly was sitting on my hood. I just stared in silent disbelief. In that moment I knew that it was trying to tell me something. But whether it was saying, “Thank you,” or telling me that freedom is worth the price you pay to get to it, I don’t know. Maybe it was saying both.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Dancing Outside the Box
Been thinking about marriage lately. It is hard. Of course this is no news to anyone whose been married, or even in a long term relationship. It's easy to get frustrated with your "significant other," placing blame on them when things don't work out or turn out the way you expected. For instance, the other night my husband was laying on the couch taking a nap while I cleaned the kitchen. As I worked, I felt a great temptation to stew over the fact that he was resting while I was cleaning up. Then I took a step back and made myself (which is never easy) calm down and think "truth" about the situation. The truth was that my husband had gotten up early with the kids, fed them breakfast, and taken care of them while I slept. When I awoke, he didn't point fingers or blame me for not getting up with the kids. He simply asked if I'd slept well. Amnesia of the heart often happens in situations like these. I'm tempted to remember only what my husband has not done rather than all that he does do.
Shortly before I was married I asked an older friend, who had been married for many years, if she had any advice for me before I "walked down the aisle." Later on that week, she sent me a letter sharing her wisdom from over twenty years of experience. While I don't remember all that she wrote, one thing in particular stuck out to me. She told me that marriage is rarely 50/50 when it comes to shared responsibilities; sometimes it's 80/20 or even 100/0. It's a give-and-take relationship, really, and one thing I've learned - it's the give that makes a relationship so difficult. It's hard to keep it from being a what-am-I getting-out-of-this relationship rather than a what what-am-I-bringing-to-it. It's about sacrificial love, really. And making a sacrifice is never easy.
Another thing I've learned in my eight years of marriage is that I can not change my husband; shouldn't even try. I could talk 'til I was blue in the face, and, believe me, it wouldn't work. I've tried the nagging tactic too, though that's never produced good results. A quarrelsome wife, as the proverb says, "Is like a constant dripping." (Proverbs 19:13) The subject of quarreling reminds me of a book I once read. Having read it before I got married, there's much I've forgotten, but there is one important phrase that sticks with me to this day; it's called "dancing the same dance." The author was trying to equate fighting (the kind that is counterproductive) to a dance; a knock-down-drag-out "dance" where careless words are spoken and no one ever wins. In other words, we never learn that there is more than one way to dance.
I've learned that, sometimes, to make a point, I need to keep my mouth shut and let God do the "talking". I find that when I do step back for a moment and gather my thoughts, I approach the argument much more calmly. Afterall, I don't want to dance the same dance over and over again. It gets old. Somewhere along the line, I want to learn to dance outside the box.
Shortly before I was married I asked an older friend, who had been married for many years, if she had any advice for me before I "walked down the aisle." Later on that week, she sent me a letter sharing her wisdom from over twenty years of experience. While I don't remember all that she wrote, one thing in particular stuck out to me. She told me that marriage is rarely 50/50 when it comes to shared responsibilities; sometimes it's 80/20 or even 100/0. It's a give-and-take relationship, really, and one thing I've learned - it's the give that makes a relationship so difficult. It's hard to keep it from being a what-am-I getting-out-of-this relationship rather than a what what-am-I-bringing-to-it. It's about sacrificial love, really. And making a sacrifice is never easy.
Another thing I've learned in my eight years of marriage is that I can not change my husband; shouldn't even try. I could talk 'til I was blue in the face, and, believe me, it wouldn't work. I've tried the nagging tactic too, though that's never produced good results. A quarrelsome wife, as the proverb says, "Is like a constant dripping." (Proverbs 19:13) The subject of quarreling reminds me of a book I once read. Having read it before I got married, there's much I've forgotten, but there is one important phrase that sticks with me to this day; it's called "dancing the same dance." The author was trying to equate fighting (the kind that is counterproductive) to a dance; a knock-down-drag-out "dance" where careless words are spoken and no one ever wins. In other words, we never learn that there is more than one way to dance.
I've learned that, sometimes, to make a point, I need to keep my mouth shut and let God do the "talking". I find that when I do step back for a moment and gather my thoughts, I approach the argument much more calmly. Afterall, I don't want to dance the same dance over and over again. It gets old. Somewhere along the line, I want to learn to dance outside the box.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Ultimate Parent
Instill - to introduce by gradual instruction, to pour in slowly by drops.
Can I just say that my kids have been driving me crazy lately. Maybe I've mentioned this before, but I didn't understood God half so much as I do now that I'm a parent. Take, for instance, the "crazy" side of parenting. Running to and for, wiping up this and that mess, picking up, cleaning up, comforting, fixing owies. All of these things remind me that I have a Father in heaven who feels the way about me that I do about my kids. Sometimes they annoy me, sometimes they irritate me, sometimes they make me angry, but, they'll always be my kids, and, I'll always love them.
At times, though, it's so hard to be patient with them. I find myself yelling when I want to remain calm, chastising when I should be comforting, and holding grudges when I should be forgiving. Yesterday, my daughter had another in a series of "accidents" in her underwear. It was not pretty. While washing dishes I began to pour my heart out to God about my stubborn little girl. I thought about how many times I've had to deal with these same messes over and over again. After awhile, it just gets old. Why isn't she learning? Why is she so stubborn? Why so unwilling to change? Then, I thought, 'Wow, all those things I asked - God could be asking the same about me. 'Why isn't she learning? Why so stubborn? Why so unwilling to change?'
God is the ultimate parent. Finding good in someone and persevering to bring that good out; much like a potter molds and shapes clay. What I've noticed about my growth as a believer is that, sometimes, God deals with the same issues over and over again. It's not like he waves a magic wand, and, poof, all my ickiness is gone. Quite the contrary, the wrong thing I did yesterday, yes, I'm still doing it today. What's more, I'll probably be doing it again tomorrow. But slowly, surely, unerringly, God is remolding me - shaping me into the person I was meant to be. The way God parents me is the way I want to parent my kids. I want to instill lessons in them that won't be learned for the moment, but, rather, for a lifetime.
Can I just say that my kids have been driving me crazy lately. Maybe I've mentioned this before, but I didn't understood God half so much as I do now that I'm a parent. Take, for instance, the "crazy" side of parenting. Running to and for, wiping up this and that mess, picking up, cleaning up, comforting, fixing owies. All of these things remind me that I have a Father in heaven who feels the way about me that I do about my kids. Sometimes they annoy me, sometimes they irritate me, sometimes they make me angry, but, they'll always be my kids, and, I'll always love them.
At times, though, it's so hard to be patient with them. I find myself yelling when I want to remain calm, chastising when I should be comforting, and holding grudges when I should be forgiving. Yesterday, my daughter had another in a series of "accidents" in her underwear. It was not pretty. While washing dishes I began to pour my heart out to God about my stubborn little girl. I thought about how many times I've had to deal with these same messes over and over again. After awhile, it just gets old. Why isn't she learning? Why is she so stubborn? Why so unwilling to change? Then, I thought, 'Wow, all those things I asked - God could be asking the same about me. 'Why isn't she learning? Why so stubborn? Why so unwilling to change?'
God is the ultimate parent. Finding good in someone and persevering to bring that good out; much like a potter molds and shapes clay. What I've noticed about my growth as a believer is that, sometimes, God deals with the same issues over and over again. It's not like he waves a magic wand, and, poof, all my ickiness is gone. Quite the contrary, the wrong thing I did yesterday, yes, I'm still doing it today. What's more, I'll probably be doing it again tomorrow. But slowly, surely, unerringly, God is remolding me - shaping me into the person I was meant to be. The way God parents me is the way I want to parent my kids. I want to instill lessons in them that won't be learned for the moment, but, rather, for a lifetime.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Faith of My Mother
October 16, 1999
I remember watching the movie, Shadowlands, at a particularly low point in my life. The main character who was playing Joy Gresham, C.S. Lewis's wife, said something to the effect, "The joy we're experiencing now is part of the pain we'll endure later. It's part of the deal." Those words haunted me that day because I didn't want to believe them. How can joy be part of suffering? Why should that be “part of the deal?” It just doesn't seem fair. And who made this deal anyway? I think maybe she had gained knowledge about suffering that I have yet to at this point in my life. She had made peace with it.
It reminds me a lot of my mom. Watching her endure so much suffering over the years, one thing I've observed is that she also seems to have made peace with it. She accepts it as “part of the deal.” If there were such a thing as a doctorate of suffering, she most certainly would have earned hers. From childhood on, she has experienced serious health problems; from kidney failure, to cancer, to strokes. She's been through multiple surgeries, endured treatments at the hands of many doctors, and, at the height of one of her more serious health conditions, her husband of thirty plus years left her.
She's been a model of suffering for me, not really because of what she's endured, but because of how she's endured it. It's not that she hasn't questioned it, or shown grief, or been real about her struggles. The thing that's impacted me the most is the faith she still clings to after all of these trials; the faith that she maintains in spite of, or maybe because of, the obstacles she's faced. Faith that believes that the God who made her will never fail or forsake her. She is, in my eyes, a champion of faith and always will be. No, she hasn’t overcome her suffering. In reality, she deals with it everyday. But she has persevered through it, through all of it. Maybe, when all is said and done, this is the essential and only thing that matters about trials. It is not about what happens to us when we suffer, it is about what becomes of us.
April 19, 2011
It has been twelve years since I started this, and things have come full circle. In the introduction, I wrote that I had yet to gain insight into the comment that pain, is “part of the deal.” After years of struggling with my own personal demons, I’ve come to understand it better. I was diagnosed bipolar when I was 31 years old. It’s been six years since the diagnosis, and I’m glad to say that life is so much better than it used to be. But there are still days when I wonder, 'Lord, why me?' It’s on those days that the faith of my mother lives on. What I’ve seen in her life, I now cling to in my own. If it were not for her model, I would never have learned to be content in all things and to persevere no matter how badly I want to give up. I love the way these lessons have been instilled in me, not so much by what my mom has said, but by how she has lived.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Pain in the Heart
There are two verses in the bible that I absolutely hate. Shocking, I know. But, I think you'll understand why when I share what they are. They're found in Genesis 6:5-6;
The Lord saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time. The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain. (NIV)
My NLT translation reads this way:
Now the Lord observed the extent of the people's wickedness, and he saw that all their thoughts were consistently and totally evil. So the Lord was sorry he had ever made them. It broke his heart.
The last translation I shared especially upsets me. To know that God was sorry he ever made man, that it broke his heart to watch all the evil unfold and engulf his beautiful creation. Gets me every time. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it is possible for God's heart to break too. But, I kinda am. I never think about a holy, omnipotent God having feelings. But, when I stumbled across this verse, it almost broke my heart to read that God's heart "was filled with pain." And, I dare say, it has been that way on more than one occassion.
I think of days like 9/11, or Hurricane Katrina, or the recent storms that have devastated the south, and I wonder what God thinks on days like that. I wonder if God's heart breaks nearly every day when, time after time, pain and destruction wreak havoc on a world that was meant for so much more.
But nothing gets me like the day he had to watch his Son die; a day when God's heart was filled with more pain than you and I can ever imagine. The worst part of it all? He couldn't do a single thing to stop it. No, let me rephrase that; he wouldn't do a single thing to stop it. Why? Because, if he did, you and I would be lost for eternity. We would be permanently separated from God - unable to feel his love, protection, commitment to us. We were lost. God wanted to bring us home. So, he did the unthinkable and set himself up for a heartbreak like no other. Turning his back on the Son he loved so much, he placed the blame and punishment we deserve on the only one who had never broken his heart. Jesus.
So, the next time you're tempted to think 'God just doesn't understand what I'm going through,' take a look back at Genesis. God understands pain; he understands heartbreak. It's simply a lie that God doesn't know or care what we're going through. Remember the pain that he's endured. Bring him your own. Maybe, together, you can find a way to heal a broken heart.
The Lord saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time. The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain. (NIV)
My NLT translation reads this way:
Now the Lord observed the extent of the people's wickedness, and he saw that all their thoughts were consistently and totally evil. So the Lord was sorry he had ever made them. It broke his heart.
The last translation I shared especially upsets me. To know that God was sorry he ever made man, that it broke his heart to watch all the evil unfold and engulf his beautiful creation. Gets me every time. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it is possible for God's heart to break too. But, I kinda am. I never think about a holy, omnipotent God having feelings. But, when I stumbled across this verse, it almost broke my heart to read that God's heart "was filled with pain." And, I dare say, it has been that way on more than one occassion.
I think of days like 9/11, or Hurricane Katrina, or the recent storms that have devastated the south, and I wonder what God thinks on days like that. I wonder if God's heart breaks nearly every day when, time after time, pain and destruction wreak havoc on a world that was meant for so much more.
But nothing gets me like the day he had to watch his Son die; a day when God's heart was filled with more pain than you and I can ever imagine. The worst part of it all? He couldn't do a single thing to stop it. No, let me rephrase that; he wouldn't do a single thing to stop it. Why? Because, if he did, you and I would be lost for eternity. We would be permanently separated from God - unable to feel his love, protection, commitment to us. We were lost. God wanted to bring us home. So, he did the unthinkable and set himself up for a heartbreak like no other. Turning his back on the Son he loved so much, he placed the blame and punishment we deserve on the only one who had never broken his heart. Jesus.
So, the next time you're tempted to think 'God just doesn't understand what I'm going through,' take a look back at Genesis. God understands pain; he understands heartbreak. It's simply a lie that God doesn't know or care what we're going through. Remember the pain that he's endured. Bring him your own. Maybe, together, you can find a way to heal a broken heart.
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