50!

This morning I am thinking about the benchmark birthday I recently celebrated.  On February 1^st, I turned 50.  Yep, that’s five decades.  Halfway to one hundred years old.  Like many other significant life events, this milestone prompted me to look back through some of my old journals.  I was both delighted and amused to find one entry from February 8, 1998, just a few days after I turned 34 years old.  The entry was titled “My Big 30.”  I honestly can’t recall what was intended, but it appears to have been a list of things I wanted to do, have, or be.  I was delighted because the list included: “Encourage others,” “Be a promoter of peace,” “Travel,” “Be a godly wife,” and “Write books.”  I was amused because I had only written down nineteen things.  I suspect I probably abandoned the idea of writing down thirty things after obsessing over the question, “What if I leave off something really important?”  So I just left it open.  Now that I’m 50, I don’t think I would be any better at compiling such a list.  I have, however, been reflecting on some of the most significant personal lessons I’ve learned during my first fifty years.  And I’ve had a bit of fun challenging myself to capture fifty of these life lessons, summarizing each in only two words.  Admittedly, I have been waffling about what to include or exclude, but here goes (in no particular order):

Trust God.  Forgive quickly.  Be courageous.  Tip liberally.  Receive love.  Treasure family.  Be kind.  Show mercy.  Ask questions.  Pursue wisdom.  Dance freely.  Sing aloud.  Dream big.  Acknowledge mistakes.  Apologize first.  Embrace truth.  Acquire knowledge.  Take walks.  Take naps.  Music heals.  Integrity matters.  Release bitterness.  Give thanks.  Get rest.  Appreciate beauty.  Laugh heartily.  Grandkids rock!  Smile often.  Cultivate compassion.  Cry sometimes.  Kiss passionately.  Cease judging.  Shun negativity.  Stargaze periodically.  Love unreservedly.  Value friendships.  Reject fear.  Keep learning.  Choose peace.  Celebrate successes.  Try again.  Listen more.  Savor hugs.  Wait patiently.  Maintain hope.  Storms pass.  Love remains.  Pray always.  Have fun.  Have faith.

It occurs to me that, while internalizing and applying these lessons, I can realize those things on my Big 30 list…all nineteen of them.  J  For one thing, I can clearly see how each of these lessons could become a chapter in one of those books that I haven’t written yet!  (I just love it when things seem to work out that way.)  While I have mastered some of these lessons, I need to have ongoing remediation for others.  All in all, they have shaped the woman I am today.  I look forward to living out these lessons, while remaining open to learning others, for the next fifty years.      

EGAPP!

This morning I am thinking about one of my journals.  I say "one of" because I am currently keeping four different ones.  There's my prayer journal, and there's my journal for general ponderings and reflections.  Then there's my journal to my future husband.  (Lord, please let him manifest soon!)  But the one I'm thinking about today is my EGAPP journal.  EGAPP is an acronym for "exceeding great and precious promises." It's a phrase from one of my favorite scriptures, II Peter 1:4.  I started my EGAPP journal a few months ago, after some honest reflection about my daily dialogue...with myself as well as with others.  I had to come to terms with the incongruity between the things I prayed and the things I said.  For example, I would pray, "Lord, help me to make the most of this day."  But later I would say, "Good Lord, I can't wait for this day to be over!"  That's just one example.  There are others which, quite frankly, I am too embarrassed to share.  In my EGAPP journal, I simply record those words from scripture that seem to expressly speak to me during my times of study and meditation.  One of my favorites is "And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work" (II Corinthians 9:8).  Another favorite is, "The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him" (Lamentations 3:25).  I typically have my EGAPP journal with me wherever I go.  I want to have it always accessible because it is a critical part of what I call my "speech therapy."  This is what my speech therapy entails:  Before I utter something that is solely driven by emotion or ignorance (or both) from my lips, I stop.  And, instead, I will speak words from my EGAPP journal.  I am finding that, not only is my speech being refined, but my mind is being renewed.  I remember that I am of my God, whose words have power to form, transform, and give life.  I am reminded that I have that same power to enlighten, to create, and to heal.  In doing so, I am being made free and marvelously changed.

The Frame

This morning I am thinking about a large picture frame that is sitting on the counter in my laundry room.  Although the frame has been empty for quite a while, it wasn’t set aside because it is broken or defective in any way.  In fact, it is fully intact and rather pretty.  The reason the frame is sitting there is that I don’t yet have that “just right” piece of art to perfectly complement it and be complemented by it.  Over time I had become somewhat accustomed to seeing the frame as it is, holding nothing.  For the past few weeks, however, I have been acutely mindful that the frame was not fashioned or intended to remain tucked away on a counter in a laundry room.  Instead, it was made to be displayed in such a place and in such a way as to encompass and exhibit the beauty of something else...something which will, in turn, highlight its own beauty.  Once again I have begun pondering what I might buy to go in the frame.  In doing so, I am moved by an interesting insight.  When I consider what would make a great complementary art piece, I don’t think about the emptiness of the frame.  I do, however, think about its unique characteristics.  Besides its dimensions, I think about the warmth of its colors and the artistry of its design.  This is how I will know IT—that just right picture—when I see it.  If my focus had been solely on the emptiness of the frame, I suppose I would have stuck something, anything, in it a while ago.  There are countless pictures that could have filled the frame’s physical dimensions.  But I’m looking for a piece that will also fill the “soul” of the frame…a piece that is distinctive in color and texture and subject.  There is something very special about the frame.  Put simply, it has taught me to be purposeful in my patience.  And today it is sweetly, silently exhorting me to apply this lesson when making decisions of even greater consequence.  If I view myself through the lens of “empty,” “unfulfilled,” or “something’s missing,” it could drive me to make hasty and regrettable choices.  So I am learning to perceive and speak of myself as “whole,” “unique,” and “prepared.”  This helps me to be much more discerning and deliberate in my choices.  I have to smile as I remember that God knows my frame.  He also knows the plans He has for me, and they preclude my staying forever tucked away on some shelf.  Indeed, God has designed me to be a showcase for faith, joy, peace, compassion, love, and other priceless creations of His grace.  In His wisdom, He knows how and when to manifest and guide me to every person, place, or thing that will produce a reciprocal wholeness and beauty.  Yes, sometimes I may have to wait a while.  Still, it is worth the wait.  For if I am purposeful in my patience, I will be part of a Masterpiece.                                  

The Green Light

This morning I am thinking about a particular traffic light that is en route to my place of work.  For every day that I can remember, the light has always been red when I got to it.  My timing doesn’t seem to be a factor, either.  If I leave the house ten minutes earlier than usual, that light is red.  If I leave five minutes later than usual, the light is red.  The only variable seems to be how long I have to sit and wait for the light to turn green.  As I was approaching this particular traffic light the other morning, I placed my foot on the brake and started to slow down.  I was preparing to stop and wait, as usual.  But then I looked up and noticed that the light was actually green!  It was the oddest thing.  In that moment of dissonance, I found myself feeling a bit dizzy.  I quickly looked in my rearview mirror to see if anyone was behind me, maybe wondering why in the world I was applying my brakes at a green light.  Thankfully no one was there.  So on I went.  I am considering how that unexpected green light seems to have been a divine gift, perfectly timed to help me see and understand something rather significant as I move toward the manifestation of desires and goals I hold in my heart.  I believe I was given a green light that day so I would be prompted to relinquish my tendency to make wrong assumptions in my approach to other things, based on prior experience.  I may not verbalize it, and I may not even be actively aware of it.  However, the truth is I am affected by things that have perplexed me, hurt me, or disappointed me so many times before.  Ideas that weren’t embraced or supported by others.  Projects that didn’t turn out quite right.  Valued relationships that fell apart.  Countless other things that have, more than once, caused me to have to stop and wait a while.  So sometimes I view new opportunities or relationships through a clouded filter of the past and, out of habit, I’ll start to apply the mental and emotional brakes.  But the word of grace I hear today, sweetly speaking to my heart, is that I must focus my faith in the moment…right now, right here.  Because here is where I can look up and see that this time, in this special season, God is actually waving me through!  Here is where I am free to keep moving closer to my dreams.  Here is my green light.  And here, I go.  

Laughing Forward

This morning I am thinking about the time I took my daughter, Ari, to tour the first college she chose to attend.  My mom was so excited and had asked if she could come along with us.  Being one who is inclined to plan ahead for such things, I reserved a wheelchair to make the visit more convenient and enjoyable for her.  As our tour group moved about the campus, the three of us chatted, laughed, and imagined.  While briskly pushing Mom in the wheelchair, I was taking in every detail, realizing that this would soon be my baby girl’s home away from home.  All of us heard when our student tour guide cautioned that we should be careful because parts of the sidewalk were uneven.  All of us noticed when a woman walking just ahead of us got the heel of her shoe caught on the uneven sidewalk and almost fell.  Yet, all of us were completely surprised by what happened next.  It happened so quickly…one, two, three…but I saw it in slow motion in my mind.  One, the wheelchair came to a sudden stop as its front wheels ran into a huge bump.  Two, my mom was catapulted forward out of the wheelchair.  Three, my mom landed belly down on the sidewalk.  We scrambled to help her up, asking, “Are you okay?”  She assured us that she was fine, showing us that there were no scrapes, cuts, or bruises.  Once she was settled back in the wheelchair, we started out again.  This time, we definitely went more slowly and I was much more watchful.  I don’t remember if it was my mom or Ari who started laughing first.  Whoever it was, they were soon both laughing hysterically.  They were wiping their eyes as tears of hilarity poured out.  Listening to the two of them, I couldn’t resist laughing too.  I noticed how some of our walking companions were trying to put distance between themselves and our little sidewalk sideshow.  Somehow this only seemed to make the three of us laugh even harder.  The story has certainly earned its place on the list of our family’s funniest memories. 
 

Here at the beginning of another new year, this humorous anecdote reminds me that the Lord has more than one way of teaching me the lessons I need to learn.  One way is through His Word and through wise guidance from trusted friends or counselors.  A second way is through the example I see of others going before me.  Of course, if neither of those ways can quite get the point across, there will always be personal…perhaps embarrassing or painful…firsthand experience.  I have to smile as I recognize that there is even a lesson within this third kind of lesson.  Sometimes I just might fall flat on my belly.  Even so, I have a loving support system in my family, my true friends, and my faithful God.  They will help pick me up again.  And, I know that I will find healing, wisdom and grace if I can learn to keep a heart of laughter, even as I keep moving forward.                       

The Bridge

This morning I am thinking about the recurring dream I’ve been having for decades.  It’s a dream about crossing a bridge.  Although the overall theme is the same, some of details have been evolving over time.  Always I am on a road, driving happily in the direction of a place I really want to go.  But I have to cross the bridge in order to get there.  When I first started having the dream, the sight of the bridge provoked tremendous fear.  As I approached the bridge, I’d be desperately trying to figure out how I could stop or turn around.  Getting “there” felt too risky…too scary.  I really think I eventually taught myself how to quickly wake up as soon as I saw the bridge appear.  Then one night as I was dreaming of approaching the bridge, there was a bit of a twist.  Before I could make myself wake up, it was as though something temporarily lifted me out of the car so that I could see what was in the water below the bridge.  There I saw several boats, and in all of the boats there were men looking up at me.  Not one of them ever spoke, but each of their faces conveyed a very clear message that spoke to the source of my fear:  “Don’t be afraid.  I will catch you if you fall.”  So, now the dream has changed a bit again.  This time I was actually on the bridge, driving over.  I could see that the bridge had two lanes heading in the direction I was going.  I was holding on tightly to the steering wheel, intent on staying in my lane and just getting across.  I saw another car, coming up quickly beside me in the other lane.  At first I was annoyed, and then I realized I was actually afraid that if he got too close he might bump me off the side of the bridge. While I couldn’t see the driver, I could tell that he was also trying hard to just keep his car in his lane and get over the bridge.  My annoyance and fear gave way to overwhelming compassion, and I prayed for us both to get “there” safely.

As I sit here, I am contemplating how crossing the bridge symbolizes my willingness to move toward the manifestation of goals and desires for which I have long prayed.  I am acknowledging that this will require me to go beyond the safe and familiar roads of my own logic, reasoning, and experience so far.  I am embracing the truth that every road to “there” leads me, inevitably, to a bridge called Faith.  Here I must make the choice to fully trust, if I would go any further.  I know that as I make my way across the bridge, I will gain a new testimony of God’s grace to protect and uphold me.  Moreover, I will grow in my ability to relate to others who are on a journey of faith, with kindness and compassion rather than with fear or judgment.  With a firm grip on the steering wheel of hope, I am moving forward.