who you really are

You wanna know what amuses me? How people can be so nice to one another in person, i.e. saying hello or asking how someone's day has been. Polite, you know the "we can paste a smile on our face and pretend like we are best friends with every other being on the planet" polite. But think about what happens when we get inside of our cars, our armored tanks so to speak. We're inaccessible and safe, safe to be are real selves. We're isolated from all other drivers, and it's like we become different people. Like because of our tinted windows or inaccessibility we become not best buds with our fellow drivers, but rather adversaries. We get annoyed with the "grandma or grandpa" Sunday drivers. You know the kind that drive exasperatingly slow, those who actually have the nerve to drive below the speed limit, as if they were riding in a buggy just taking in the sights all around them. My usual response? "All right, Grandpa, move a little faster."

Or how about those jerks who cut us off nearly causing us to have a heart attack. Yea, I've definitely got it in for them. Ooooh here's a good one – a driver who tailgates you just because you're doing the speed limit. This one is near and dear to me because I like to drive the speed limit most times. And I have to say that for my part I become very smug when someone passes me just to have to stop at the next light, where I proceed to pull up next to them in a matter of moments. "So in the end what did it really gain them?" I think self-righteously.

Road rage! Now there's a cheery term. Ever been the victim of it? Not a pleasant experience at all. Let me give you an example. A few weeks ago my husband and I were driving down the interstate. The left lane was under construction so that we weren't able to move over for the car that was trying to merge on next to us. Expecting the other driver to yield, my husband was forced to slam on the brakes when the driver nearly side-swiped us. Last time I checked drivers merging on to the interstate are supposed to yield. Yes, that's right, yield. Well, apparently this driver didn't know that law, so my husband gave them a shout-out – he honked his horn. The lovely person on the passenger side proceeded to roll down his window and give us "the finger".

Okay, so it's not exactly road rage, but think about what might have happened if this had been a face to face encounter? If someone cut in front of us and we had to "yield" to them, we would never give them the finger. An irritated glance maybe, but, more likely if they'd realized what they'd done and apologized, we'd say politely back, "No problem." Would that same courtesy have worked if we were secluded in our cars? Nope. You don't have to be nice to someone you can't see person to person. They're just a nameless face, not even really that, a car – whether one that cuts us off, gives us the finger, or tailgates us, they're all just cars, not the people we pretend to love and adore. Jesus once told us to love our neighbors, even the ones that are difficult. So, the next time you're in your car and are cut off, or tailgated, or whatever other rude things we do to people on the road, think about how you would handle it if you knew who that person in the car was. Better yet, think about how you would handle it if you were dealing with them face-to-face. Oh, and when you read the verse below try inserting the word, "car" for enemy and "tick you off" for persecute. Because behind every armored vehicle on the road, there's actually a person we're supposed to be loving.

You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemies'. But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. (Matthew 5:43)

Christmas in May

So, I'm sure you've all heard about "Christmas in July" when car salesman, and department stores, and a variety of other shops offer a cool reminder of winter to distract us from the blistering heat of summer. I have a confession to make that may surprise some of you. Are you ready for it? Here goes . . . I've been listening to Christmas Music in my car for about a month now. My husband isn't even remotely interested in hearing Christmas Music until December. I'm sure he appreciates the fact that I don't' play it at home, and, that mostly, we listen to it in the car.

The real culprit in all of this is my four-year-old. One day while she was browsing through my CD collection she spotted a Christmas CD. Not knowing what it was, she asked if she could listen to it. I thought to myself, 'Why not? It can't do any harm.' Unfortunately for me, when she heard the first phrase of 'Jingle Bell Rock' she was hooked. In total bliss, she danced and swayed to the music. Then she pulled me in and asked me to dance with her. Once again I thought, 'Why not?' So I picked her up and started twirling her around. She was in love. And about two dozen times later, I'm glad to say she's moved on to other things. Now, she wants to listen to the WHOLE Christmas CD. At present, I keep it in my car so that when she asks to listen to it I can say, "It's out in the car, sweetie. We can't listen to it until we drive somewhere." And trust me; we listen to it every time we get in the car.

As for me, at first I thought I would just humor her. Let her listen to Jingle Bell Rock and dance to the music. It was cute. And as long as I limited it to three times a day, it wasn't unbearable. Then something unexpected happened. As I listened to the CD over and over again I began to think that we (all of us who celebrate Christmas) may have things backwards. Sound strange? Humor me for a moment. When everything is dead and gloomy and gray outside, Christmas music has a way of uplifting us. Giving us hope during a bleak time of the year. But in spring, oh in spring, Christmas Music takes on a whole new meaning. Not only does the music uplift, but it does something else; it shines and glows right along with the coming of spring. Don't believe me? Try it yourself. Pick a beautiful spring day, roll down those windows and pop in your favorite Christmas CD. You'll smile. You'll laugh. Most importantly you'll love it. There is something about the hope of the music and the hope of spring that, when combined, gives a joy that Christmas music in the dead of winter never could. Yup, all it takes is a good CD, a beautiful blue sky, and rolling down road with the windows wide open. I guarantee you'll love it. Love it. If you don't, I'll send you a Christmas Song, "Jingle Bell Rock", and see if it doesn't get you up and dancing.

Song of Songs 2:10-13 My lover spoke and said to me, "Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the
season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me.

a bittersweet trip

As we pulled on to the interstate at mile marker 426, I anticipated the trip – what was to come.  Unexpectedly, I felt a growing sense of sorrow - wave upon wave washing over me as we traveled further north.  As we passed each mile marker, the vivid memories of time spent with Mom became bittersweet reminders of all that we had, and all that we had lost.  From the beginning to the end a wave of emotions -laughter, tears, sorrow, joy intermingled in my heart.  We drove down the road towards the place I’d always called home; the place where she would no longer be. 

Mile Marker 426 – Nebraska

 The kids were loaded, snacks bought, the van filled up with gas.  We were on our way, a trip to South Dakota to participate in the first ever kidney walk in memory of Mom.  Even before we pulled onto the interstate bittersweet thoughts filled my heart.  Bitter because I was giving up seven and a half years of teaching memories; from bulletin borders, to curriculum books, to arts and crafts supplies, we were bringing it all so I could give it away.  The sweetness?  It was a gift to my niece who graduates in a few weeks with her teaching degree.  Even as I felt the sorrow of letting go – knowing who I was giving it to made it easier.  ‘It will help her get started on her own teaching journey,’ I thought and the knowledge of that made me smile. 

Mile Marker 156– Iowa

My thoughts turned towards home, what I’d always called home -  Mom’s house.  I recalled the memories of familiar sights and sounds there to greet us when we walked in the door.  The smell of fresh baked cookies, banana bread, trail mix or any other assortment of goodies that she’d made.  Giving her a big hug and holding on tight.  The kids were going to miss the candy drawer.  I was going to miss spending time with her - catching her snoozing in her favorite chair while watching TV.  Hugging her good night and telling her, ‘I love you.’ Dozens of these memories filled my mind as the van rolled down the road closer to the place I’d always loved – the place I’d grown up in, my childhood home.

 Mile Marker 18 – South Dakota

This is when the tears started to flow.  Unexpected, out of the blue, crocodile tears.  An ordinary mile marker -  the same as every other one we’d passed brought them on.  A small town – Elk Point with a restaurant we’d frequented over the years, Cody’s - one of Mom’s favorite places to eat when we were on the road.  So strange that such a simple memory could carry such a breathtaking punch aimed directly at my heart.  My tears were silent ones, the kind I didn’t want to share.  They hung hot and heavy as they slid down my cheeks. 

Then, an unexpected surprise, my four-year-old daughter asking to hold my hand.  Her precious little hands stroking mine, softly and gently as if she sensed that what her mama needed most was this touch of love.

Mile Marker 77 – South Dakota

Sioux Falls - a favorite destination from my childhood.  Visiting the Empire Mall to go shopping for school clothes, sipping on Orange Julius’s in the mall’s food court, sampling candy and fudge.  Heading home exhausted, yet thrilled with all of the new purchases made – ready to start a new school year.

Mile Marker 101 – South Dakota

Our kids whine and repeat the never ending phrase – Are we there yet?   Five minutes later - Are we there yet?  Every parent’s dreaded nightmare reminded me of the vacations I took as a child.  Crossing the plains, my siblings and I roamed freely in the car, fighting for territory and back-seat privileges.  All of those sweet times when we were “stuck” in a car together and bonded even as we suffered what we thought were the worst experiences of our lives – family vacations.

Mile marker 132 – South Dakota

As we roll ever closer to our destination, a sign catches my eye, an advertisement for Applebees – a restaurant  Mom and I frequented.  So many times we’d met for lunch there.  We’d order our favorites.  As I gobbled down my food, I’d watch poor Mom struggle to eat even a few bites of what she’d ordered -  eating like a bird because her stomach wouldn’t allow her to eat too much at once. 

Mile marker 156  - South Dakota

Our destination lies near, the anticipation of driving into Watertown without her being there makes me crazy.  My husband sensing that this trip has been hard shares his earphones -  unexpectedly choosing music only he could love making me laugh at the strange beats, rhythms, crazy lyrics of his favorites.  Then, finally, choosing one song he knows I’ll like  - The Dancing Queen – lryics that I can belt out with the best of them.  I laugh and sway to the music, breaking the solemn moment with a smile.

Mile marker 177 – South Dakota

Finally, we pull off of the interstate and drive down the ramp towards town.  All those car trips, my family took, vacations, shopping, heading out to our lake cabin.  All of them rolled into one - a cinema of movies playing across the screen of my heart.  Will I be able to survive this?

We reach my brother’s house.  Climbing out of the car we head inside. It is my son’s birthday, and they have surprises waiting.  Jack’s eyes open wide when he spots the clown cake made just for him.  He eagerly opens the present they give him.  No, this isn’t home.  But it is right.  It is a good place to be.  Over the weekend we bond.  We share memories.  We laugh.  Mom would have loved it – loved all of it.  As we prepare to leave on Sunday, my sister-in-law gives me a hug and speaks a benediction of sorts, “Come back soon.  This will always be home.”  A sweet ending to a bittersweet trip. 

 

Guilt vs. Grace

             Growing up, I remember struggling with guilt a lot.  This could have been the good Lutheran girl coming out in me.  Returning home from church, I would feel this peace in my heart, but as soon as the car drove into the garage and we all piled into our house, the good feelings disappeared and I’d be back to square one.   Amazing Grace how sweet the sound for everyone except me.  Never felt good enough, or that I deserved God’s love.  All I knew was that God was somewhere up in the sky and I was just little old me down here on earth.  How could I be significant to him? 

And, I don’t know why, but there is a big part of me today that still struggles with guilt.  I would say that nine times out of ten, I am more motivated by guilt  than grace.  Kind of a sad commentary on how much I don’t get about God’s love for me.  Furthermore, I am convinced that what God wants most for me is to have me be set perfectly free in his love.  There’s a verse that I love which reminds me of how things are supposed to be. 

I run in the path of your commands for you have set my heart free.  (Psalm 119:32)

Isn’t that a beautiful thought?  Not laboriously walking, or striving, or even jogging.  No, this verse talks about a full-throttled run.  Running in the path of his commands.  That idea intrigues me.  That verse makes me want to shout for joy.  No more guilt, only grace.  So how do I get there?

Well, God’s Spirit alone can move me to understand and actively believe in this kind of love.  This was Paul’s prayer for the believers at Ephesus: 

I pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth.  I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit.  And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him.  May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love.  And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high and how deep his love really is.  (Ephesians 3:14-18 NLT)

I LOVE this verse – LOVE it.  It’s one I think of often when I’m praying for myself or others.  After all, who doesn’t want that?  Who doesn’t want to understand how great God’s love is for them.  Well, I can think of one shall we call him “being” who fights like heck to make sure we don’t let our roots sink down and rest in the love of Christ.  Yup, you got it.  Our old friend, the Devil. 

I have a little story to share that might make things a little more clear.  Today, I dug up some day lilies, because I wanted to transplant them in our back yard.  After I finished this morning they were all nice and perky looking - as good as they looked in our front garden.  But at this moment, I’m staring out the window and noticing - those flowers aren’t looking too hot.  Yup, my pretty little day lilies are wilting away in the scorching sun.  Granted, I have yet to water them so that may be part of the problem, and I suppose in a little while, I will need to go out and do just that.  But as I type this, I envision those plants, how I want them to look, and I know that what I want most for them is to thrive.  Not just survive or even live, but to thrive.   And I think that’s what God wants for us.  Not just to survive, not even just to live, but to thrive.  In Jesus own words, “that we may have life and have it to the full”. (John 10:10b)

Okay, I promise I’m gonna tie this up into a neat little package before I’m done, so here are some final thoughts;  Maybe guilt is the only way to get me going in the right direction.  But if guilt is my only motivator, then I’m probably going to struggle through life just trying to survive.  But, if, by God’s Spirit, I begin to get it, to really get how great God’s love is for me, to let my roots grow down deep into the “soil of God’s marvelous love,” then I don’t think it will be guilt that motivates me anymore but, rather, grace.  Enough grace to set me free.  Enough grace to set me free to “run in the path of God’s Commands.”  A grace, a love that leads me to live a free life, a full life.  And unlike my poor wilted lilies, a grace that allows me to thrive in the midst of whatever comes my way.

What about you?  Don’t you think that God wants this for all of us?  By God’s Spirit, learn to do more than survive, or even just to live.  Let your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love and start thriving!