Approaching Magnificent

I am thinking about the bumper sticker I saw on a car the other day.  It said: “If some things get better with time, then I must be approaching magnificent!”  I so appreciate the wit and wisdom of people who come up with things like that.  I enjoy trying to imagine the context or conversations from which such clever, humorous thoughts emerge.  Of course I can’t always know the full backstory, but one thing seems apparent.  Some people truly have a gift for putting a spotlight on the positives and the possibilities, regardless of their circumstances.  As I prepare for this day, I am embracing awareness that I also have the power to frame my point of view in such a way.  Truthfully, I sometimes become discouraged when certain hopes, dreams, and desires that I hold in my heart are deferred and delayed.  But, what a revelation this silly bumper sticker has given.  In placing my focus solely on the passing of time, I miss out on something truly wonderful.  That is, I am getting better!  With each passing moment, day, week, and year, I am growing into the fullness of the woman I was created to be.  It is really true.  As I look back, I can see how the fruit of my immaturity...selfishness, impatience, ignorance, anxiety, and a judgmental spirit...are slowly falling away with every passing season.  Such fruit was so small, hard, and unpalatable.  I'm glad to see it go.  In their place, I see the sweet, wholesome fruit of peace, wisdom, kindness, and joy developing.  Yes, I'm getting better.  In fact, I'm approaching magnificent!  And with the manifestation of my hopes and dreams, I will be perfectly prepared to receive.

My Momma Don't Say That

This morning I am thinking about the day I spent helping out in a kindergarten classroom.  At Read-Aloud time, the eighteen students gathered on a colorful rug, where they sat cross-legged in front of their teacher.  The story she had selected was about a little boy who was lonely at school because he didn’t have any friends.  As the story unfolded, it became apparent that the primary reason why he wasn’t making friends was that he spent all of his free time inside his house watching television and playing video games.  At one point in the story, the little boy’s mother tells him to turn off the TV and go outside to play.  Here, the teacher paused and asked, “How many of your moms say that?”  Only two hands went up.  The teacher seemed a bit surprised.  She then probed a bit.  “Doesn’t your mom tell you to go outside and play sometimes?”  Eighteen sweet little faces stared back at her in silence.  A few shook their heads, indicating a “no.”  The teacher just smiled and went on reading the rest of the story.  One little boy really caught my attention, though.  When those two questions were posed by the teacher, he looked around at his classmates.  The expression on his face was almost pained, reflecting absolute puzzlement.  Finally, he made eye contact with me.  I smiled and gave him a wink.  He scooted over and sat next to me on the rug, and he whispered, “My momma don’t say that.”  I just rubbed his back and whispered back, “Okay.”  But inside I wasn’t okay.  I was so hoping the teacher might stop and say or do something to help the children make meaning of this part of a story, which clearly was not consonant with their own experience.  I was hoping she might start by asking, “Why do you think his mom might want him to go outside and play?”  Then the dialogue and learning could go from there.  Certainly I understand the risk of asking questions like that with little children.  Asking questions like that can take a lesson completely off script.  The answers children give sometimes uncover things a teacher, quite frankly, doesn’t know.  Other times, their answers reveal things a teacher really doesn’t want to know.  But their answers can also raise awareness of things a teacher really needs to know…things she may have never considered…things that might give insight into more effective ways to help students learn and understand.  Anyway, this is causing me to examine the ways I sometimes “stick to a script” in my dealings with people, too.  I sometimes operate from mental lesson plans that I expect to go a certain way.  In doing so, I act or speak with an expectation of the “appropriate” way others should act or speak in response, based on my experience and my agenda.  I don’t always approach interactions and conversations with a mindset that I might actually have something to learn that will radically challenge (or perhaps change) my perceptions, and maybe even my agenda.  Certainly I understand the risk of approaching life this way.  Not everyone thinks the way I think.  And not everyone’s momma says the things my momma would say.  Being open to understanding and learning from the diverse experiences and perspectives of others can really take me off my script.  Yet, my best relationships—whether as a mother, a sister, a teacher, a colleague, or a friend—are those in which I recognize that I am not the only one with a lesson to teach or a story to tell.  My best relationships are the ones in which I recognize that I must sometimes assume the posture and perspective of another so that respect, appreciation, enlightenment, and mutual understanding can be ever flourishing.  I’ll take that over a script any time.                

Wealthy

This morning I am thinking about how my life would change if I were to become wealthy.  I’m talking about having seriously deep-pocketed, constantly replenishing, over-the-top, rollin’ in it, wealth.  I see myself hooking up family and close friends with homes and cars, and paying off debts.  I envision making generous donations to my church and to other charitable organizations that are near and dear to my heart.  I imagine taking incredible, fun vacations.  And I fancy being able to indulge in regularly scheduled pampering, complete with massage, mani, pedi, facial, and hairstyling, all to be topped off with clothes and shoe shopping.  It strikes me as significant that whenever I imagine being wealthy, my thoughts almost immediately go to the tangible things I could have or obtain.  While I can easily picture how things around me would be different, I don’t usually take time to ponder how (or if) I might be different…on the inside, where it really matters.  Well, a sweet message is stirring in my heart, filling me with pure joy, and bringing a smile to my face.  The message is simply this:  You are wealthy.  And I realize it’s true, as I contemplate treasures of song and story and laughter.  I know it’s true as I reflect on priceless lessons about integrity, commitment, and faith.  I am convinced that it’s true, as I consider precious, lasting bonds of love and friendship that encompass me.  These intangible riches are all mine.  They are deep-rooted, having been planted in my life over years and generations.  They are continually flourishing and reproducing.  So the question is, how will I use my wealth to make a difference in my world today?  Quite frankly, I want to flaunt it!  I want to leverage my riches to bless the lives of those around me with beauty, peace, joy, and healing.  Moreover, I want to know that these riches are shaping me and making me whole.  Sure, there are some tangible riches I may never have.  But in terms of wealth, what I would love to have is not nearly as important as what I want to be.  A woman who is beautifully rich on the inside…where it really matters.                    

Shopping Hungry

This morning I am thinking about an admonition I’ve often heard, that I should never go grocery shopping when I’m hungry.  I don’t always heed this warning, although time and experience have taught me that I probably should.  It’s funny what winds up in my cart when I go shopping hungry.  I’d never really thought about it until now, but it’s usually things that begin with the letter “c”—cookies, cake, chips, and candy (chocolate, to be precise).  It’s usually things that are definitely not on my grocery list.  Darn cravings!  When I give in to the power of these tempting treats, I inevitably end up spending more than I’d planned.  And, quite frankly, the extra padding on my hips and thighs gives eloquent testimony to the truth that these sneaky snacks are not my friends.  Well, when I went to the grocery store last weekend, it was just great.  I’d enjoyed a good breakfast, and I was quite full and satisfied.  I stuck to the things on my list, and I ended up spending less than expected.  Reflecting on this, a remarkable parallel comes to mind.  I have made some very poor choices when I’ve gone grocery shopping on an empty stomach.  Likewise, I have made some of my worst decisions in life when my thoughts, actions and interactions were driven by a hunger of the soul.  In such cases, the problem was not what landed in my cart, but what ended up in my heart.  I would go forth each day with the sincere intention to acquire good things—more wisdom, compassion, understanding, faith, and love.  But sometimes when I really looked within, I would find some other things that were not on my “list”—things like fickleness, jealousy, resentment, cynicism, and selfishness.  They didn’t just spring up out of nowhere, either.  Instead, they were a reflection of my very own desperate, impulsive words, thoughts and actions as I attempted to fulfill one kind of void or another within me.  These vices came at a cost that was much greater than I could have known.  And, Lord knows, they packed on some emotional weight I didn’t want or need.  It took some time, some revelation, and some acceptance of truth, but eventually I started to receive understanding.  One of the most important lessons I have learned is to discern between the enduring, God-given desires of my heart and the temporal, deceptive cravings of my soul.  The former nourish and refresh my spirit, manifesting strength, joy, and peace.  The latter produce fleeting pleasure (darn cravings!), but inevitably leave me tired, cold, and empty.  The more I commit myself to pursuing the former, the less of an appetite I have for the latter.  This is so important, because every day, throughout the day, I am faced with choices.  When I choose from a place of spiritual or emotional fulfillment, I am able to make thoughtful, deliberate decisions based on a greater purpose.  However, when I choose from a place of spiritual or emotional hunger, I tend to feel pushed and driven to act in a certain way, based on momentary conditions.  I don’t take this lightly, because I realize how profoundly my choices inform the manifestation of my destiny.  So my prayer today, and every day, is to be filled.  Not with junk, but with the satisfying fruit of His Spirit.  Because today, and every day, I desire to live, love, and give FULL.

I Like Being Here

This morning I am thinking about the time I spent recently with an adorable Kindergartner at one of the schools I serve.  The two of us sat at a table in her classroom, while she ate her lunch.  Between taking tiny bites of her sandwich, she divulged random details about her day and her classroom.  “We read that book right there today.”  (Munch, munch.)  “See those numbers?”  (Pointing to the calendar.)  We use those to count.  But the ones up there.”  (Pointing to the number line above the white board.)  “Those are just for decoration.”  (Munch, munch.)  “I like to write.”  (Munch, munch.)  “We have sight words, but I don’t know none of them.”  (Munch, munch.)  “Well, I know how to read my name.”  (Munch, munch.)   Suddenly, right in the middle of a sentence she stopped and looked up at me.  Her head was tilted slightly, and her expression indicated that she was thinking carefully and trying to figure out the right thing to say.  Then, with the sweetest smile, she simply said, “I like being here.”   And I absolutely melted.  I gave her a big hug and told her, “I like being here, too.”  Even after I left her, she stayed on my mind.  I am hoping that she can hold on to the things that brought a smile to her face during our time together…until next time.  As I sit here today, I realize that my heart is overflowing with the very same sentiment expressed by a 5-year-old child.  I want to pause, look up to my Father with a smile, and simply say, “I like being here.”  It’s really true.  I like being here, where it’s just the two of us.  I like being here, where I can talk to Him about anything and everything, even boldly confessing my ignorance and weaknesses.  I like being here, where I am reminded of His love and faithfulness to me.  I like being here, where I am fully aware that I’m encompassed by His goodness, grace, and favor.  I like being here, where He imparts wisdom and truth to me through His Word.  I like being here, where my mind is transformed and I receive clear vision for wonderful, amazing things I may not immediately see.  I like being here where He reminds me that He is with me and for me, always.  Yes, I like being here.  So, while I prepare to go out and do the work I’m called to do…out where it’s no longer just the two of us…I know that I will stay on His mind.  I will hold on to the things that bring a smile to my face during our time together.  I will draw joy and strength from these things until the next time.          

Expired

This morning I am thinking about an unusual experience I had with my computer printer.  I was doing a simple, mundane task that I had successfully completed numerous times before.  That is, changing out one of the ink cartridges.  But this time, it didn’t work out so well.  After the cartridge was installed and I attempted to resume printing, I immediately got an alert message that this newly installed cartridge was expired.  Initially I thought it must be a mistake, so I hit the “OK” button and tried to print again.  Once again, the “expired” alert popped up on my screen.  Now, I knew I had just taken this cartridge out of the “stash” of supplies I like to keep stored up.  I had just removed it from the package that was previously unopened.  So, the alert message made absolutely no sense.  I wondered, “How in the world could it be expired?  I’ve never used it.  For goodness sake, it’s brand new!”  In my puzzlement, I was missing what the alert actually said.  It didn’t say that the cartridge was used.  It said it was expired.  As this subtle difference began to sink in, I became intrigued.  My curiosity sent me to that fount of wisdom for the casual researcher—Google.  There, I found out that it really is true.  Some printer ink cartridges do have a built-in expiration date.  It’s somewhat like foods or medicines that have a “best if used by” date stamp.  I also learned that it may be possible to go ahead and use an expired printer ink cartridge anyway.  The thing is, over time, the ink in the cartridge may turn from liquid to sludge.  So, using it after its expiration date may result in a poorer quality printing job.  Or, worse yet, it could clog up and damage the printer.  Who knew?  Well, that little glitch with the printer has raised an important question for me.  What are those things in my life (things much more important than printer ink cartridges) that I have chosen to stash away in my life, assuming that I’ll get to use them some day?  I am contemplating the many blessings that have come to me throughout the years.  These include special gifts, talents, and God-given dreams placed on my heart.  Moreover, there are the precious people…family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers…with whom I interact from day to day.  Oh, how I have been moved to consider those things I have neglected, ignored, and taken for granted!  I am reminded of how important it is to work diligently, choose wisely, act kindly, speak truthfully, give liberally, and love unselfishly NOW.  Because the truth is, there is an anointed time and season for everything.  Whether I want to acknowledge it or not, there really is a shelf life on many of the opportunities and open doors that lie before me.  Every time I choose to say, “Later,” I may actually be saying, “Never.”  It’s a sobering truth, but one that I appreciate today.  I will be intentionally taking stock of all the treasures that are tucked away in the storage closets of my life.  And, with a grateful heart, I will implement “Operation Use It, Not Lose It.”  I will make the most of every moment, every day, in every way.  In doing so, I know that the anointing of grace on my life will never be expired.                             

Turns Out I Was Wrong

This morning I am thinking about how my notion of true love has evolved since my childhood.  I had the blessed curse of growing up watching Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Cinderella” every year, religiously.  I really bought into that fairytale musical hook, line, and sinker.  There was one song in particular that always had me mesmerized.  I can still remember some of the lyrics:

“Do I love you because you’re wonderful, or are you wonderful because I love you?—Are you the

     sweet invention of a lover’s dream, or are you really as wonderful as you seem?”

 Okay, so seeing those words right now makes me want to barf a little.  But, oh how they used to stir my prepubescent heart!  I was certain that someday I would meet a handsome prince, and we would fall in love and get married.  In a bit of a departure from the traditional Cinderella story line, I was going to be a successful doctor.  A pediatrician.  Still, somehow I would manage to welcome my prince home from work each and every day with hugs, kisses, and a home cooked meal.  I would be perpetually young, delightful and as cute as could be.  He would be strong, passionate, kind, and ever so handsome.  And we would live happily ever after.  I have to laugh as I recall how, at the time, my greatest fear related to love was that one day, inevitably, a tampon commercial would be shown while I was watching television with my handsome prince.  After all, love was about everything being just perfect.  Or so I thought.  Well, it turns out I was wrong.  I did actually meet a prince…and another, and another.  They were strong, passionate, kind, and handsome.  Well, sometimes.  But, just like in the classic fairy tale, the initial magic always wore off after a while.  This faltering magic didn’t exactly cause them to turn into pumpkins.  Rather, it caused them to disappear. And I wasn’t a pediatrician.  Instead, I was a teacher and a single parent.  Most days when I got home from work, I felt anything but young, delightful, or cute.  Heck, I often thought how nice it would be to have a prince waiting at home with hugs, kisses, and a home cooked meal for me!  By then, my greatest fear related to love had nothing to do with embarrassment about feminine products.  Quite honestly, it was that my prince had missed me.  I wondered:  What if he encountered me, but didn’t really see me?  What if he was looking for the perfect, polished princess Cinderella and was thrown off when he met me prior to my fabulous fairy godmother makeover?  What if he ended up marrying one of my wicked step-sisters?  After all, love was all about perfect circumstances and timing.  Or so I thought.  Turns out I was wrong again.  It turns out I’ve never quite made it to Happily Ever After.  I have, however, taken up residence in a wonderful place called Happily-Right-Now.  Most days when I get home from work, it is well past dinner time.  When I do make a home cooked meal, I sit across the table from the empty place where no handsome prince is.  But I envision him being there someday.  I envision our conversation and laughter over meals that we have both prepared.  I envision his strength and passion, which are genuine…flowing from a beautiful heart rather than merely shining as an illusion from a handsome face.  I envision us getting married, living, learning, growing, trying, questioning, figuring things out, and moving forward...together.  After all, I no longer believe that love is about being perfect.  I now believe it is about being perfected through commitment, real intimacy and truth.  And my greatest fear related to love?  There is none.  There is only joy and gratitude as I receive its unfolding manifestation to me each day.                

 

I'm Just Saying

This morning I am thinking about the wonderful “just what I needed” experience I had at church yesterday.  I was sitting and waiting for the morning service to begin, when I saw my pastor approaching.  I said “Good morning, Pastor!”  With a smile, he said, “I have something to share with you.”  As he began to speak, I was absolutely floored.  In fewer than four sentences, he delivered what I can only describe as a sermon, tailor-made for me.  What he said was powerful in its simplicity, but each word was precious and potent with kindness, truth, and encouragement.  I felt like I could have leaped ten feet (or more) in the air!  It was, unquestionably, a God-moment and a God-message.  I embraced it as God’s personalized greeting card to me, saying, “Mary, I see you.  I understand, and I care.  Trust Me.”  I know my pastor could have been busy doing a number of other things at that moment yesterday.  Yet, he took the time to share a timely exhortation that meant so much to me.  My gratitude compels me to consider how I might do the same for others.  In the “busy-ness” of each day, I often do lots of talking.  I say a lot of things to a lot of people.  But I am not always keen to those moments when I have the opportunity to say something that could change the course of someone’s day…or, perhaps, their life.  In fact, if I were to view a transcript of all the things I say on any given day, I suspect that I might find quite a bit of idle chatter and wasted words.  There’s a scripture (Proverbs 18:21) that is often quoted, or misquoted, within church circles: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”  I believe this is true.  And, it’s not just about what I say to myself, but what I say to others.  So today I will be mindful that every time I speak, I can choose to unleash life and light into someone else’s circumstances.  How amazing!  With that kind of power, I won’t withhold when I have the chance to share.  I’m just saying.          

Scars

This morning I am thinking about a scar that lies on my daughter’s arm.  If she extends her arm, with her palm up, the scar can be seen about midway between her elbow and her hand.  She was only about five years old on the day she acquired the scar.  It was a Sunday morning, and we were up and about preparing to go to church.  After I made sure she was dressed, and as cute as could be, I left her to play in her room.  Then I got busy getting myself ready.  Nothing seemed in the least bit out of the ordinary.  It was not until we were in the car and on our way, giggling and chit-chatting a usual, that I noticed the horrific mark that she was making a feeble attempt to hide.  I gasped, “Ari, what is that on your arm?!”  Then I pulled the car over to take a look.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I examined the vicious burn, outlined in the unmistakable shape of the iron.  She remained silent as she held her head down, as though ashamed.  I know I must have been most unconvincing as I raced (now sobbing) to the emergency room of the children’s hospital saying, “It’s okay.  It’s okay.”  After she was treated, I felt such a sense of relief.  I also felt overwhelming, unspeakable love for my child.  I just wanted to hold her and not let go.  It seems she had taken a notion to help me out with getting dressed that morning by ironing my clothes for me, although she knew she wasn’t supposed to go near the iron.  When she got hurt, she figured the rule about staying away from the iron was more important to me than her well-being.  So, she hid the pain.  She never even cried out.  How heartbreaking.  How eye-opening.  It reminds me that there are so many people who, like me sometimes, try to conceal painful emotional cuts and wounds acquired in the process of living.  We bravely try to bear the pain, understanding fully well that it is a result of choices and actions we made.  We don’t cry out.  We’re embarrassed or ashamed to talk about it.  We assume that we will be harshly judged or ridiculed, especially if we got hurt while being someplace we know we shouldn’t have been or doing something we know we shouldn’t have done.  But I know better now.  I have learned that God loves me with an overwhelming, unspeakable love.  When I am broken and wounded, He wants me to cry out to Him…to run to Him.  And I know this is true for others who may be hurting today as well.  I wish I could tell them all.  What I can do, and will do, is sincerely pray that they will come out of hiding, perhaps with arms outstretched and palms up, to receive God’s comfort and healing.  And even if the wounds should leave permanent scars, I declare that the pain will end and be remembered no more.                           

There Ought To Be A Law

This morning I am thinking about the ban on texting while driving that officially went into effect this week in Florida.  On Monday the practice was just strongly discouraged, but on Tuesday it became unlawful.  I was rather surprised to learn that the fine for breaking this new law is only thirty dollars.  Moreover, one would have to be stopped for some other violation in order to be ticketed for the offense.  I have to say, it doesn’t seem like much of a deterrent to me.  It strikes me as being more of a Band-Aid than a serious ban.  In any case it has me wondering, what is the critical threshold that must be reached before it is determined that “there ought to be a law” against a particular thing?  Because I would like to suggest a ban on being rude, mean, and nasty.  And I say the penalty for offenders should be some kind of sharp, painful zap.  I admit that my judgment is not wholly objective in this regard.  I actually have someone in mind as I’m contemplating this issue.  It’s the man who yelled out his car window, “Stupid f—ing nigger!” as he impatiently sped past me on a two-lane road.  Yep, I would have loved to see him get a zap.  Truth be told, I might have had to take a zap too because I secretly hoped that he’d run into a tree.  Anyway, I think there ought to be a law against malice…a law against reckless, destructive words and actions.  Much like a car out of control, they crash into people unexpectedly, with devastating or deadly results.  It happens all the time, in all kinds of contexts.  Of course, the sobering reality is that no ban (or zap, for that matter) can assuage the deep-rooted ignorance, hatred, and brokenness by which some people’s lives are driven.  This requires a change of heart, which is something no externally imposed law can accomplish.  But I give thanks for being reminded that I am guided by something that is so much greater than any man-made law.  There is absolutely nothing I can do about the recklessness of others.  However, I can walk in genuine peace and joy as I choose to submit myself to the law of Grace.  God knows I need it so much, because sometimes I break this law (like I did with the mean speeder).  The wonderful thing is, when this happens, I can allow myself to be arrested by Love.  In doing so, I am made free again.                 

My Crush

This morning I am thinking about my crush.  In particular, I’m thinking about something he once said to me, and it made me break out in a big, goofy smile to start my day.  Anyway, I can clearly recall our first conversation.  What stands out in my mind is that, although we talked for quite a while that morning, the time seemed to have flown by.  As I left him and hurried to meet my lunch date, I was absolutely intrigued.  It was the strangest thing, like I had just spent time with an old acquaintance…a kindred spirit.  So, I was quite pleased when I got the opportunity to see and talk to him again.  This time, I “studied” him.  I observed how he treated and interacted with others.  I also listened carefully as he spoke.  His manner was characterized by genuine kindness and thoughtfulness.  There was a sense of ease about him that let me know he wasn’t putting on a show.  I was certain he would exhibit the same kindness and respect for others, whether I was there or not.  Over time, I came to learn how smart he is.  In fact, one day I told my sister, “I think he’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”  It’s not the kind of intelligence that is obnoxious and arrogant.  Instead, he has a way of revealing bits of knowledge at just the right time and in just the right doses, such that it brings clarification, provides rich background, or challenges superficial thinking.  Many times he has left me wondering to myself, “How in the world does he know these things?”  And, my goodness, he is so funny!  His gift for well-timed quips reminds me a bit of my dad, especially how he can have me in stitches while he maintains a level of composure.  A memory that stays with me was the first time he shared that he’d had a rough day.  I remember wishing so much that I could hold him and tell him, “It’s okay, and it’s going to be better.”  Sometimes I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if we were dating.  Of course, what I envision always falls neatly within the guidelines of Make Believe—that romanticized place of perfection and possibility.  The fantasy always includes a scene where we are sitting with a group of people who are mesmerized, listening to him speak.  And I’m just looking around, smiling like, “Yep, that’s my boo.  Isn’t he so smart and wonderful?”  Well, the fantasy is nice.  But, what’s real is even better.  My life has been indescribably blessed by this amazing man who became my friend.  I perceive that his presence has been like a compass, pointing me back in the direction of my true heart’s desire.  I am so grateful that our paths crossed.