Sweet

So I have a blogging problem.  I can't seem to stop these days.  Apparently I'm thinking too much or reading too much.  Sometimes reading inspires writing.  Maybe that's it.  Or maybe I just have a problem.

Nevertheless, in church on Sunday after our initial prayer the congregation said "Amen."  Same old, same old.  But Bryan, our pastor, questioned why we all say that.  He suggested that we all say "Sweet" instead.  It means the same thing and it is more culturally relevant.  I was a little doubtful, but I rolled with it.

After the sermon he came back to this idea of saying "Sweet" after prayer.  He posed that it might be a good reminder that we are intended to be the unmistakable aroma of God.  We are to be fragrant, a sweet aroma to those around us. 

 

Okay, okay, I started to come around.  I did just watch Turtle Talk with Crush at California Adventure.  He definitely makes the word "Sweet" sound cool.  More than that though is the idea that we should be fragrant.  I just keep picturing Mary emptying out her alabaster container of nard.  What a beautiful fragrance that must have filled the room!  All out of her love and devotion to her Lord.  Sweet!

I'm not saying that it should always be, but next time you pray, instead of saying "Amen" as we always do, try it.  Say "Sweet" and you just might find a precious aroma of Jesus fill the room. 

"I have hope!"

"I have hope!"  This is said with a cheesy smile, a trite tone and a "way to go" swing of the arm. Can you picture it?  This vivid image has been floating through my head the last few days taunting me.  This past year has brought many-a-trials with it,  but I have muddled through with the thought that "it's okay, I have hope."  Example, when we lost Aunt Kelly, I thought "I'll make it through, I have hope."  Which is very true.  Hope does give us the strength to live on in a very painful world.  But yesterday I was praying about the new heartbreaking things in my world and I thought again "It's okay, I have hope!"  Then the following conversation occurred: 

Jesus' response to me "Don't guard your heart that way!"

"But you gave me hope.  I'm using it."

"Yes, but it's not an escape.  You still have to feel it."

"What do you mean 'feel it'? I'm feeling it."

"Are you? Remember pain has a purpose."

End of conversation.  Jesus was right. (I know, oh so surprising!)  While hope is an amazing gift it can't be a scapegoat.  I can't hide behind hope as a means of not experiencing the pain and realities of the situations I face.  Because the pain has a purpose and if I don't allow myself to experience the pain I won't grow.

I began to process this more and I thought about how scary this could be.  It is important, invaluable to allow myself to experience pain.  However it is also invaluable to protect my heart or allow God to do so.  It is important to not allow the pain to consume me, consume my thoughts or dictate my attitude.  I must find a balance.  

Ah, that word balance.  It pops up everywhere in my life.  Yet it's true; it's imperative that I allow the pain to have it's purpose, and allow Jesus to give me hope.  I can still have hope.  It is still a tool that Jesus is going to use, but I can't hide behind it.  I have to allow the pain to have a purpose, and the growth the results can be yet another source of hope.  I do have hope, but I'm now going to use it as God intended, not abuse it to spare me pain.

The Journey

I've been told before that I do not enjoy the journey because I am too focused on the end result. And to many extents (much more as I continue to evaluate) this is true.  I despise writing rough drafts or expecting them of my students because all that matters is the end result.  Right?  If the paper is good, why does it matter how I got there?  I really didn't enjoy being engaged all that much because I couldn't wait to be married.  The process was cumbersome and full of decisions made in attempts to please many parties.  In some ways this attitude also comes out in how I approach a school year.  I sometimes zoom in on the major projects, getting to the breaks and submitting grades instead of relishing the in-class moments I have the privilege of enjoying with my students.

But I think I am experiencing a change in this area of my life.  I do believe God is growing me in my understanding of the journey.  I am beginning to learn the value of the process in arriving at the product.  

I realize now that I have somewhere deep inside of me believed that if I did all of the right things, computed the magic formula, I would "arrive" perfected and with no room to grow. How naive!  In the words of Paul in Phillipians 2 "equality with God is not a thing to be grasped."  Jesus got that, and He was perfect!  So why do I try to grasp it?  Why do I believe I'll arrive at the flawless end product any time soon?  I have so far to go.  It seems irrational when I think about it, but I surmise that my theory, my tenet came from fear of the journey.

You see I'm beginning to understand that the journey, the process is painful.  As for all heroic journeys, the character doesn't grow unless he is stretched beyond his means.  The hero is asked to leave the comfort of his home, and sometimes his friends, and trust the map and his leader to bring him safely to his goal.  I fear the hero's journey in many ways.  Not many people sign on for leaving their comfort zone, enduring great pain and oftentimes having to do both of those things alone.  And when we see others sign on for those assignments we often deem them courageous or foolish.  But I believe we are being called to be both.

It's time that I accept that the things that are going to grow me, the things that I eventually will consider with all joy, are those things that hurt, that cause me to take risks.  It is time that I live with a reckless abandon, with a foolish courage and embrace the journey that the Lord is taking me on.  Although this sounds crazy, it is a decision I do not make alone.  The decision is one that leads me into the presence of the Lord.  I am going to embrace the process and offer up this prayer:

"O Christ, do not give me tasks equal to my powers,

but give me powers equal to my tasks,

for I want to be stretched by things too great for me.

I want to grow through the greatness of my tasks,

but I shall need your help for the growing."

~E. Stanley Jones

Sympathy Pains

Since I was a child I have always "enjoyed" a certain level of empathy.  God has "graced" me with the gift of feeling what others feel.  The usual form of this is to cry when others weep and to laugh when others rejoice, but every once in a while it takes on a vastly different form.

Last night was no exception.  I woke at 3:33 in the morning (odd how we are able to remember times in the dead of night) to a racing heart and an unbearable stomach ache.  As I made my way to the bathroom believing I was going to vomit, this is usually my M.O., I found myself faint and dizzy.  After calling for Herb I laid on the floor enjoying the cool tile against my face. Herb brought me a cool wash clothe and I began to revive.  I shrugged it off as a usual "Katie weak-immune system" episode and finally fell back asleep.

When I awoke this morning the phone rang.  I answered and heard the edge in my dear friend's voice.  One I loved had been taken to the hospital due to extreme cramping and pain.  She is recovering well, but I can't help but make the connection.  Could it possibly be that I, from miles and miles away, intuitively knew that she was ill?  Is it possible the Holy Spirit was attempting to give me insight into the hurt of a friend?  And if so, why the heads up?  Am I supposed to better understand her anguish?

These are questions I often pose when an episode like this occurs.  If I truly experienced sympathy pains, why?  But I sincerely believe that there is a reason, even if I can't directly pin point it.  God wants me to understand the needs and feelings of others and thus He has granted me this gift.  I know He wants to use it for His purposes, so I continue to watch and wait to see how He hopes to use them.  Until then, I will just hold onto the idea that I am supposed to know the pain of others; I am created to understand.  And just like yesterday, if it is for no other reason, it might leave someone feeling less alone, which is plenty enough reason for me.

Topics of Conversation

Melinda and Mika just left our apartment, and I sit here reflecting on our hours together.  The four of us sat around for literally four hours talking about any number of things.  We bounced from school to television to games to food, but we always landed back in one place. Disneyland. Of course.  This happens often, but particularly our recent visit caused more focused discussion. It is remarkable to me that there is really so much to say on this one topic.  But as I sit here and ponder our topic it makes complete sense to me.

For one, I love to tell stories.  Each of the four of us enjoys telling stories.  So the fact that Herb and I spent three days at the place we love provided much Disneyland story fodder for the conversation.  Not to mention that Mika and Melinda have spent so many cumulative hours in the park that their story cache is also endless.  There is something comforting about hearing the tales of others; stories told about a familiar setting with common characters.  It feels like I've opened a favorite book to read over again, a Jane Eyre or a Pride and Prejudice, where the story resonates in your soul and conjures nostalgia.  It sounds cheesy, but it is so true.  Talking of Disneyland brings an excitement and joy that comes from remembering something that brightens my face when I think of it.  I love those kinds of memories, those kinds of conversations.

There's also the English teacher, nerdy analysis, that our conversation felt comfortable because we spoke in familiar jargon.  The Disneyland language is one we all speak together; it comes easily, requires no explaining and begs complete understanding from all discussants (or at least all of these discussants).  Speaking a common language gives me the feeling of being understood, like I don't have to find the words to make myself clear, they are already available to me.  Which leads me to my final idea about this topic of conversation...

Something about sitting around chatting with Melinda, Mika and Herb about Disneyland makes me feel known.  I love that feeling, the feeling that somebody gets you.  It sometimes the joy I find in teaching; the moment when the students "get" what I'm saying is magical.  The same goes for our easy going conversation tonight.  There were no pretenses, no facades, just authenticity.  I have the inclination that this feeling wasn't derived from our topic of conversation, but rather the friends I was with.  Although the topic is important and the details are often telling, the happiness and comfort comes in the time spent; the time spent becoming more fully aware of each person's idiosyncrasies or ways of thinking.  So while our topic of conversation allowed us the insights, it was the simplicity of being together that made the evening what it was, an amazing experience of feeling loved.

Thus I think it is less about the topic of conversation and more about the people.  Less about the fight to get the last word in and more about the shared common experience.  It is about knowing others and being known.  This is why we talk, often for hours on end.  We walk away not with more intelligent things to say or more stories to share (although those may be side effects), but rather we walk away feeling less alone.  And that's what really matters.

Money

I hate money.  I know that to some this seems odd.  How can one hate money?  It is the blessing that affords us other blessings.  But boy, do I hate it.  I despise talking about it, I despise thinking about it, and I really despise spending it.  If you don't believe that last statement go shopping with me sometime...

Shopping is a stressful process for me, especially if I'm involved in the girly version of shopping where I have nothing in mind that I need.  I'm just shopping to shop.  Oh, icky!  I go into a store with nothing I "need" and I look around at clothes (or shoes, or pajamas, or *replace any item here*).  I find things I like because I am a girl at times, and I like to look fashionable.  But then I engage in the constant mind battle.  "This is really cute, but it's ridiculous to spend money on clothes I don't really need." "We don't have any money to spend anyway.  We need to save money for *replace any basic need here*"  And usually I opt not to buy anything, which I'm okay with most times, but it bothers many people around me.  I can imagine that shopping with me is not a pleasant experience; I turn it into what it really is, a practical debate over the allocation of resources, as opposed to what ever girl wants it to be, a chance to obtain a new find!  Money blows it for me...

I've spent a very long time thinking about why I am so uptight about money.  One conclusion I've come to is that when I was young we were very poor.  I was pretty much just happy with a few toys and food on the table.  Another is that, as my mom tells it: "You hated to put things away. You went to the Montessori school that required you to put things away between the lines.  You just decided it wasn't worth the fun of playing if you had to put it back in it's place. So you wouldn't play."  This reveals that I don't like having to find a place for stuff, and I still don't to this day.  The problem might be amplified because I live in a tiny apartment, but at my core I do like to de-junk more than most people.

But more challenging than the why of this problem is the more everyday living with it.  We're pretty poor; I'm a school teacher and my husband's a law student.  There isn't a huge influx of money.  So when it comes to discussing matters of where to spend that money, I stiffen up.  If I had it my way, I would spend all of my money on building relationships with others.  Going out to dinner, purchasing items to make dinner and invite others over, buying little things that remind me of others, vacationing with others: this is how I would spend my money.  But there are more pressing needs like eating, car insurance, power, and that drives me crazy.  I know it's necessary to get through life, but people are more essential to me, or so it feels like.  So when I have to start scrimping and pick and choose social outings I get a little cranky.  Okay, ask Herb and Kevyn, a lot cranky.

We know many people who've gone through financial classes and been changed and freed by the experience, and there is potential in that.  But I'm really looking for the freed portion.  I want to feel freed to invest in the things I feel called to.  I feel like God would want Herb and I investing in relationships, so why do we have less than $100 in our account to live on for the next week?  This confuses me, and I wish there were a clear answer.  Yet the difficult part about finances is that they are the definition of gray area.  I suppose in this sense it's like English class, there's no right answer.  Although the frustrating difference is that in English you can have any answer you want as long as you can justify it, which doesn't seem to be the way with money.

Needless to say, I'm not going to be able to wrap this blog up in a nice, complete package and send it off into space.  No instead, I continue to question the ambiguity of the subject.  Yet I have to remember two things.  One, it's only partially mine to own; it is God's money that He's entrusted to me.  Two, the end result I desire, relationships built, can come for free.  Perhaps I just need a heavy dose of perspective to remind me it is only for a time that I endure these frustrations, and I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams with what I already have.  I just need to be able to keep that at the forefront of my mind next time I look in my checking account.

Real Love

You know, I think most of us believe we've got "love" down.  We know what it feels like to be loved.  We know what it feels like to be in love.  And to love someone, well that's just a matter of taking care of their needs in the right time and place.  Right?  Easy enough.

Wrong.  Lately I've been learning a hard, but super important lesson.  I've heard it before, but it's just now sinking in.  Love isn't what happens when things are going well and life is hunky-dory. Love is what happens when we have to respond to others in the midst of our lives crumbling around us.  Love is hard, flat out hard.  If it seems easy, we must not be doing it right.

Jesus offered extravagant love to us, but it cost him something.  Actually it cost him everything, his life.  Real love comes at a cost.  There is a sacrifice that must be present for true love to exist.  

There are so many opportunities in my life right now for real love, love that costs me something.  And I find myself faltering in those moments of opportunity. I'm getting bogged down in what it means to me, and how it makes me feel and how will it change my life.  That's not real love, that's selfish love, that's me-love.  And it's not what I'm called to. I've been called to love sacrificially, and I'm not making that choice right now.  

To quote You've Got Mail "'Is that why it costs so much?' 'No, that's why it's worth so much.'" The cost denotes the worth.  If love is worth it, which it is, I should be willing to accept the cost.

So can someone pass me a wrench?  I need an attitude adjustment.  I need a love adjustment.  I need to retune my eyes to see the needs of others instead of my own personal needs.  Love is costly, and it's about time I start living that way and giving that way.  

Paradox of Privelege

I know I just posted, but I read this article my mom sent me, and it is so good, it deserved a second blog.  Check it out!  Just click on the title of the blog to be connected to the link.

My favorite line is: "The paradox of privilege is that it is meaningless when it only serves the self, when it thinks it has nothing to learn from anyone else."

Isn't that poignant?  There is nothing wrong with privilege as long as it seeks to serve and learn from others.  But the moment we make it about us, we have lost the gift that God has given us.

There's a myriad of good wisdom in this article.  I strongly suggest you check it out!  Thanks Mom!

Spring Training

I know it seems superfluous to write again about baseball, but I can't help it.  It is a favorite in my life, and this is a semi-separate topic, or so I tell myself.  

Yesterday my mom, dad, and grandma came down to Tucson to bask in the sun on a beautiful day for baseball.  As we handed our tickets over, I got goose bumps.  I could hear the announcement of players, the crack of the bat, the cheers of the fans, and I felt at home.  My means of relaxation, my joy of competition, my ability to sit back and enjoy conversation has returned.  Yes, this puts much pressure on the sport to deliver, but it never fails.  It never fails to remind me of the simplicity that can soothe a weary soul.  It never fails to remind me of how amazing it is to be a part of something bigger than yourself.  It is so amazing to talk with other fans around you and share in the experience.  Not to mention the connection that comes in cheering for those players who've returned again to bring us 162 games of pure excitement and heartache.  (Although, Herb will argue I didn't identify the players correctly, but I say, I know all the players names, and if I can't identify them by sight from a distance, it's still okay.)

Needless to say, I am so excited at the beginning of something new.  This is a big deal for me, having new things begin.  I like the feeling of embarking on a new project, seeing something all the way through, having a fresh experience. (It's part of why I can't wait to have a baby someday. It is the beginning of something new on the largest scale, just like marriage was.)  I'm thrilled about the new season and all that it holds, and I felt so blessed to share it with my family yesterday!  My mom initiated a hot dog toast at the game to great new season! How apropos! A hot dog, a new season, and sharing it with my family!  It doesn't get any better than that!