The Right Lane

This morning I am thinking about a minor frustration that turned into a major exhortation. In the middle of a busy day, I decided to grab a quick bite from the drive-thru of a favorite fast food restaurant. It was a road I travel often, so I knew the restaurant would be coming up on my right. I was in the middle lane, and I knew I’d need to get over soon. That’s when I noticed the convoy of cars in the right lane. They were ahead of me, next to me, and in my rearview mirror. I tried signaling, to no avail, for someone to let me over—to let me in. A feeling of aggravation turned to exasperation as I got closer to and, eventually, passed the restaurant. The thought came to me, “Just go to the next restaurant. It’s a little farther down the road, but it’s on your way.” Well, obstinacy outweighed my sense of reason. Once I was able to get into the left lane, I made a U-turn and circled back. I was determined to get in THAT right lane and go to THAT restaurant. I successfully did both. However, as I triumphantly pulled into the parking lot, I noticed there were no other cars. To my shock and chagrin, that restaurant had closed! I couldn’t help laughing at myself as I drove down the road to the other restaurant.

The lesson I needed was this:  Sometimes I try to force my way over into a metaphorical right lane, not realizing it will lead me to a wrong place. Sometimes I need to accept that, regardless of how I may be positioned in relation to other travelers, I am in the right lane for where I really need to go. Sometimes I perceive things negatively, as if they are blocking me, hindering me, or shutting me out from something I want. In fact, they may be divine guard rails to keep me “in my lane” and guide me in a different direction for a reason I can’t immediately see. Sometimes I may think I have arrived, only to find myself in an empty situation that no longer serves a purpose. Sometimes I need to be patient and go just a little farther down the road, trusting that I am being led to a destination that is truly fruitful and favorable. 

In the Beginning

This morning, I am thinking about my walk of faith.  Over the years, my faith has been tried in ways that stretched, pushed, pierced and crushed me.  It has also been affirmed in ways that lifted, guided, restored and healed me.  Today I found myself in the familiar place of seeking to commune with God, the Source of my faith.  I was desperate for direction.  Among other things, I confessed, “God, I feel lost.”  The tender, holy guidance I received was simply this: “Retrace your steps.”  I was led to go back to the beginning—specifically to Genesis, the book of beginnings.  In the Creation narrative, my eyes were enlightened to five guideposts of grace.  When I don’t see these guideposts in my life, I invariably begin to feel lost.  Conversely, when these guideposts are present on my walk of faith, they bear witness that I am on the right path.  The five guideposts are: 

Light- It feels great when circumstances around me are all bright and sunny.  However, that is often not the case.  Sometimes it is right and necessary for me to leave a dark situation and seek a place where there is light.  At other times, it is right and necessary for me to be a light and transform dark places.  In whatever situation I find myself, I pray for illumination to SEE—to act with wisdom, knowledge, and understanding.  I want to help others see, too.

Order- A very liberating lesson I’ve learned is that there is a difference between structure and stricture.  While one is intended to confine, the other is intended to define.  I realize there is no schedule or flow chart that can prevent random, unexpected events from occurring.  Still, having an intentional, thoughtful plan helps me clarify and sanctify the things I value most—those things for which I will prioritize commitment of my time, attention, and affection.

Purpose- There are two questions that seem to arise and confront me at various times and in various contexts. One is, “What am I doing here?”  The other is, “Why am I doing this?”  Sometimes my answer is, “I don’t know.”  At other times, the answers I give ring hollow.  But sometimes when I answer, I feel as if I am plugged in to Life itself!  I feel a great sense of power, joy and meaning.  This is the “sweet spot” of purpose, and there is nothing like it.  This is where I strive to be.

  

Fruitfulness- A particular orange tree may have been the lone survivor of an unseasonably cold winter, and it may have also escaped a crop-killing blight.  Nevertheless, the greatest testimony that orange tree could have is sweet, juicy oranges.  I want to keep this in mind, when I’m tempted to boast about obstacles I have faced or challenges I’ve overcome.  At the end of the day, I want to know that I am providing  something fruitful--something beneficial, pleasant, nourishing, refreshing and sweet—for those who need it. 

Relationship- As much as I enjoy my alone time, I understand that I am not designed to experience life disconnected from others.  Time after time, I have seen Love absolutely demolish the pitiful walls of defense I’d constructed around myself to avoid frustration, disappointment and a broken heart.  I now know it was brokenness that taught me mercy, compassion, patience, forgiveness and hope. Indeed, these things have equipped me for authentic relationships in which Love can be given and received, flowing freely.

I Want You

I am thinking about the priceless moment I shared with my oldest grandson when he spent the night with me recently.  As he usually does, he had beckoned me to a closet in my spare bedroom where I store several grandchildren toys—some of which they are aware, and others that are new surprises.  As I always do, I slid open the closet door to let him look around.  He stood expectantly, waiting for me to ask the question:  “What do you want?”  After he told me the things he wanted, I said, “Okay, let’s get it!”  He grabbed the bags of blocks from the floor.  I got the Play Dough and crayons from a shelf that was just above his reach.  I spread out a large sheet to cover the floor, and we plopped down to play.  While he was engrossed in a building project, I decided to go get a load of laundry started.  Just as I closed the lid to the washer, I turned to see my grandson standing in the doorway to the laundry room.  He had an unmistakable something-has-me-upset-and-I’m-about-to-cry look on his face.  I asked, “What’s the matter, honey?  What do you want?”  I figured there was something else in the toy closet he couldn’t reach.  With tears welling up in his eyes, he reached out his little arms and said, “I want you.”  Before I knew it, I was on my knees and holding him tightly in my arms.  My eyes were brimming with tears, too, as I said, “I’m here, sweetheart.  I’m right here.”  This reminds me of how it is sometimes in my relationship with God.  A lot like my grandson with his toys, I can easily become preoccupied with the countless blessings that surround me.  I am sincerely grateful for these manifold gifts!  Yet, sometimes, when I look up and look around, I perceive that something is missing.  I become keenly aware that I have lost that closeness, that connection with God that gives a profound depth of purpose and joy to everything else.  And just as my precious grandson came looking for me, my spirit compels me to earnestly seek Him until the intimacy of our fellowship is renewed.  Sometimes I don’t come into His presence with a list of petitions or wishes.  Instead, I just want to let Him know that I adore and appreciate Him so much.  Sometimes I simply want to say, “I want You.”  And as He encompasses me in an embrace of love and peace, He lets me know, “I Am here.  I Am right here.”     

Overtaken

This morning I am thinking about the words spoken to me while I was taking a walk the other day.  There is a part of my walking trail (which I call the Boardwalk) where it is not uncommon for people to utter brief greetings to one another.  As a matter of courtesy, many of us will say something like, “I’m right behind you” or “coming up on your left,” as an alert when we’re about to pass someone.  So, I wasn’t surprised by the greeting itself.  Nor was I surprised when I turned to see the bright, familiar smile of one of the jogging regulars.  What did surprise me was what she told me.  She said, “You’ve really got the pace going today!  I’ve been trying to catch up to you since back there.”  She pointed all the way across the lake to the place where I had entered the Boardwalk.  I didn’t have a chance to respond before she said, “Keep it up!” and darted ahead of me.  I broke out in a big grin, bolstered by her encouragement.  I glanced once again across the lake and marveled at her words, “I’ve been trying to catch up to you.” It struck me that I had not seen, heard, or otherwise noticed her until I was caught.  I had been focused on my pacing and lost in my thoughts. 

      

Reflecting on this, I was reminded of a scripture that speaks about how blessings will overtake me when I make a deliberate, committed choice to live…to walk…in a way that honors God.  Being overtaken implies I am moving in a particular direction, not just sitting or standing still.  More precisely, I believe it means I am moving, purposefully, in the direction of the prayers and goals He has set in my heart.  I like to imagine the blessings that are dispatched to track me down from the moment I begin taking steps of faith, every time.  I may not immediately see, hear, or otherwise perceive these blessings.  But inevitably, often unexpectedly, when I am focused on His promises and lost in His favor, I can feel them breathing down my neck.  I can hear them saying, “I’m coming up right behind you.”  I have sensed this lately, and my heart is greatly encouraged.  Today I say to those blessings, “Bring it on!  Overtake me.”

My Significant Other

This morning I am thinking about the woman I was in my past and the woman I am today.  Sometimes it feels like the two are engaged in an epic game of Whack-a-Mole.  Semblances of my past will rear their ugly heads, often popping up unexpectedly.  It goes something like this:

 

“Peek-a-boo! Remember how you’d party all night on Saturday and direct the children’s choir at church on Sunday?  Peek-a-boo!   What a hypocrite.  Peek-a-boo!  Remember how you trusted people with your heart, only to have it broken?  Peek-a-boo!  You have every right to be cynical.  Peek-a-boo!  Remember all those nights you spent at home alone while everyone else was out on a date?  Peek-a-boo!  Some things never change, huh? Remember the guilt?  Remember the pain?  Remember the sense of hopelessness?”

 

All the while I’ll be swinging and swatting with my very best retorts:  “I’ve stopped pretending now.  I’ve come to terms with what happened now.  I understand everything happens for a reason now.  I’m happier now.  I’ve stopped leaning to my own understanding, and I’m trusting God now.”  I must say, the woman I am today is winning most of these rounds lately.  Still, the back and forth can be exhausting. 

I have discovered that something truly delightful happens whenever my significant other enters the picture.  That is, the woman I aspire to become.  She sees and points out the beauty and purpose in people and circumstances all around me.  She inspires me to imagine, to dream, to laugh and to believe.  She celebrates my strength, resilience, and faith.  She honors my heart’s desire to love and be loved.  She speaks to me in a joyful tone, calling me to look forward.  On the best of days and the worst of days, my significant other reminds me of wonderful, amazing things that are yet to be for me.  I need to listen to her more often.                 

Life After Shrimp

This morning I am thinking about my discovery that I have a pretty severe shellfish allergy.  The effect of ingesting shellfish started out as relatively mild.  It was just a slightly annoying itch.  Barely noticeable.  Over time, however, the reaction became more dramatic.  Specifically, it made my whole mouth tingle, followed by swelling of my tongue and tightening of my throat.  Totally noticeable.   Still, I tried to deny it.  That is, up until the night I found myself alone, having eaten only about two bites of shrimp-fried rice, unable to swallow, my heart racing.  It was only then that I confronted myself with the sobering truth.  I asked, “Seriously, is it worth your life?”

Upon learning of my shrimp allergy, one friend tried to offer some hope.  She said there might a way to gradually reintroduce shrimp back into my diet by ingesting very small amounts at a time and increasing the amount gradually.  It sounded tempting, but I declined.  I know myself better than that.  I acknowledge that I am a shrimp-a-holic, so I just have to go cold turkey.  As much as I may still want to partake of a delicious shrimp dinner every now and then, exercising wisdom and self-discipline is now a matter of life or death. 

Interestingly, I feel like an allergy of sorts has also started to affect me mentally and emotionally.  For years, I was prone to devouring doubt, anxiety, and fear whenever and wherever they were served.  But, more and more lately, I find that these things irritate me.  They swell my tongue with words that are contrary to love and truth.  They choke the joy and peace right out of me.  I have to be honest with myself when tempted with the notion that I might somehow be able to indulge in harmful, unproductive thoughts and behaviors in small, manageable doses.  The truth is, every little bit hurts.

There are three important lessons I’ve gleaned over the past two shrimp-less years.  First, not everything that’s good to me is good for me.  Secondly, there are some things I just have to let go, no matter how “tasty” they may be.  And finally, rather than fixating on what I can’t have, I can re-train my appetite to delight in the countless other things I can have.  Does it require sacrifice?  Indeed it does.  Does it mean I sometimes have to sit by and watch others indulge in things I cannot even touch?  Absolutely.  But my prayer is to be an encouragement to others who find themselves at a crossroads, needing to make tough changes but not quite believing it’s possible.  I want to tell the story—not just with my lips but by example—that there is wholeness and healing beyond the things that have proven only to kill, steal, and destroy.  I want to be living proof that there is life after shrimp.            

    

My Hilarious Humiliation

This morning I am thinking about a funny thing that happened to me at the airport a few months ago.  It’s funny in retrospect, at least.  I was in line, waiting to pass through security as I had done countless times before.  I observed a few random travelers being stopped after passing through the body scanner.  Some were asked to empty pockets.  Others had their back, sides, or legs patted down.  All were quickly cleared and allowed to continue on their way.  I had always been able to breeze right through the body scanner, and I was expecting nothing different this time.  Well, I was in for quite a surprise.  When I exited the scanner, two uniformed officials asked me to wait just a moment.  I noticed that they were both looking and pointing at something behind me, so I turned to see what it was.  It was a monitor.  On the monitor was a two-dimensional figure of me.  The “me” on the monitor mimicked the pose I had taken inside the body scanner—legs apart, arms up over my head as if I were doing jumping jacks.  Then I saw it…the thing that had captured the security officials’ attention.  It was a yellow, rectangular shape.  And the shape was positioned squarely over my crotch!  I thought to myself, “Surely they don’t think I’m packing heat in my pants.”  At first I joked within myself, thinking, “Well, I guess it has been a really long time since…”

I was no longer amused when the female official said, “Okay, I’m going to have to check you.”  I can only imagine the look on my face, but whatever it was it seemed to give her pause.  She was suddenly more tentative, trying to reassure me with, “I’m going to use the back of my hand.”  I stood there, utterly embarrassed, as the back of her hand briskly bumped against places that just shouldn’t be touched by another without my willful invitation.  The pat down took less than three seconds; then she told me I was cleared to go.  But, before I could even take a step, two more female officials approached me.  One of them announced (a little too eagerly, I thought), “We are going to have to pat you down.”  I said, “No, they just did!”  The first two officials nodded in confirmation, and I quickly walked away.  All the way to the gate to catch my flight, I thought about what had just happened.  And the more I thought about it, the more I became angry.  I couldn’t wait for my two travel companions to arrive so I could tell them about the harrowing experience.   As I recounted the sequence of events, both of their faces lit up with amusement.  By the time I finished the story, the three of us were laughing hysterically.  In just a few moments, they helped me realize that the source of my anger was my own vanity.  It had always been perfectly okay with me if other travelers got stopped and patted down.  After all, it was for a greater good.  Yet, truthfully, I had fancied myself to be above such a thing.  For me, the experience was so much more than a security check.  It was an ego check.

Today, as I prepare my heart and mind for the start of a new work week, I give thanks for life’s ego check points that have taught me humility when I didn’t think I needed such lessons.  I am truly grateful for the disappointments, the trials, the tests, and the moments of humiliation that I didn’t think I deserved.  I find that I can now relate more deeply and more genuinely to fellow travelers on this journey of life, because I have been “touched” by the same hands of experience.  I am learning to be less critical and judgmental, but more sympathetic and compassionate.  Moreover, I am learning how to laugh at myself…to lighten up…because there really is a greater good.  Ultimately, it is my joy and freedom and peace.