It's My Party

It's an old song and I don't know the title or the artist or the context, but I do remember these lines:

"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

I'm not sure what brought those words to mind recently. It's an interesting statement -- especially if you remember that parties are suppose to be happy occasions. Why would you want to cry at a party? Better yet, why would you want to cry at all? That's not to say that there aren't times when a good cry does wonders. My take on those lines is that more than a choice to cry, it is a choice to be unhappy.

Confession. As much as I would like to be an optimist, I am a pessimist at heart. I am more likely to tell you why something won't work than why it can. My glass is half empty. My worries get the best of me and dictate how I feel.

I don't think it is 100% a choice. Biology and circumstances do impact us. But what if 50% were a choice? What if only 30% were a choice? What if only 10% were a choice? I wonder going into today that even if a fraction of my mood were a choice and I exercised the choice to choose to be happy and if not completely happy -- content -- how would that impact my day? How would it impact my relationships or my circumstances? My guess is I might feel even just a little bit less stressed.

I am writing this at 6:20 AM. It's not unusual for me to be headed out in next 30 minutes or so. What is unusual is that I'm finishing up 2 loads of laundry. So, I've been up for a while. I don't have kids, but I do have pets. I was awoken this morning by one of my dear ones retching on the bed. So, the sheets needed to be washed as well as a large blanket. No, it's not my idea of a great way to wake up and I was pretty frustrated. But I am going to choose to be an optimist today:

• I have a bed.
• I have 3 pets I wouldn't change for the world in spite of making me need to do laundry.
• I have a washing machine and dryer in my house.
• I have a house.
• I have a job.
• While I don't have everything I want, I do have what I need.
• I live in a country that affords me a host of freedoms.
• I have Jesus.

It's my party and I choose today to be happy.

Stress Fractures

Recently, I've had some unexplained foot and leg pain. Actually, it's been going on a couple of months. Sometimes, (though it seems more often or than not) I am waking up in the morning with swollen ankles and achy feet. Yes, I said waking up that way. It would make sense to me if it were later in the day. Even then, I don't know that it should be more often than not. The moment my feet touch the ground getting out of bed, they hurt. It's an achy kind of hurt, not a shooting pain or anything like that.

Initial, I thought it had something to do with the running. I backed off on that. However, not running for over a week didn't help and just doing the minimum the second week didn't either. Sleeping with my feel elevated for a month hasn't worked.

I finally called the doctor just to ask if it should be something I should be concerned about. It's not debilitating. I don't limp or hobble. It's just a constant ache. I felt a bit foolish but explained to the nurse that I was just checking about it. You see, my mom died from cancer. She started feeling poorly in January but just kind of ignored it. By the time she was diagnosed in October (the first time she got looked at), things were pretty bad. As a result, I am more likely than not to get things checked out.

Yes, they want to check into it especially since I had tried everything they would suggest already. So, I'm getting sort of a sonogram of my legs next week.

Of course I'm curious as to what it could be. The didn't say. I don't have a clue. My mind has played with possibilities. One being stress fractures. But I doubt that would be it in both feet at once! Having broken a tailbone and fractured some fingers, I think it might hurt worse than it does if this was the case.

As I considered the possibility of stress fractures, I zeroed in on what it means to have stress fractures in my life. Stress is a powerful thing. It can really discombobulate me. As a result, I am less pleasant to be around.

Stress can fracture my relationships. This morning, I am thinking particularly of work. Yesterday was a VERY stressful day. While my initial interactions with people were okay, as the day went on, those fractures shot out. One question too many. One too many things forgotten. One off the wall comment too many. One too many everything. By 2:00 I was chin deep in a project and didn't have patience for anything else. Yes, I was busy, but did I need to be short with people? Yes I was stressed, but did my words and demeanor need to fracture things with folks around me?

Today may be stressful too. The project is not yet done and is pretty important. But I don't want to fracture things anymore than I did yesterday. I will remember to breath. I will take 5 minutes to walk outside when things keep escalating. I will remember that God loves each person and expects me, out of love for Him, to treat everyone with kindness even when I'm stressed. Maybe even more so when I'm stressed. Being kind when everything is going well is easy. Being kind when things are overwhelming is a choice to depend on God and see people through His eyes.

What do you do to prevent or heal stress fractures in you day to day life?

Two Choices

A friend forwarded the following story to me. These are not my thoughts and I'm not sure where it originated. I thought it worth sharing with all of you.

At a fundraising dinner fo a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued.

"I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child."

Then he told the following story:

"Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?'"

"I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others inspite of his handicaps . . . ."

"I approached on of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'"

"Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a borad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted."

"In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three."

"In the top fo the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and playd in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

"In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.Now, with two outs and bases loaded, the potential winning run was on the base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bay. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?"

"Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat."

"Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Sahy's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact."

"The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed."

"The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay."

"As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game."

"Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all teammates. Everyone from the stand adn both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!'"

"Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed adn startled. Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to base.'"

"By the time Shay rounded towards secomd base, the right fielder had the ball. The smallest guy on thier team who had his first chace to be the hero for his tea. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runner ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screamin, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the way Shay!'"

"Shay reached thrid base becuase the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!'"

"As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on thier feet screamin, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'"

"Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team."

"That day, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world."

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy and coming home and seeing his mother tearfullly embrace her little hero of the day!

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

---

My thoughts:

I believe that wise man is right. But what if it isn't just the society that is judged by how it treats it's least fortuante amongst them. What if we are judged by how we treat those least fortunate that cross our life's path?

Where would you be in the story? What choice would you make?

Given the chance would you have let Shay play?

Would you have been willing to forfeit the game by letting Shay bat?

Would you have lobbed the ball softly or thrown it wide?

Would you have cheered Shay home?

I like to think that I would have done all of those things. Maybe on my better days I would. But on my bad days, would I make that choice? I hope so.

This month is Autism Awareness month. Autism is an odd disease. It covers a broad range of diagnoses. Some are the ones you can readily identify. The child who doesn't want to be touched and lines things up over and over and over. Some are more subtle with conversations just being strange or off. It depends on the degree of the illnesses and the diagnosis itself. You may or may not go, "Something is off."

When you recognize it, do you rise to the occassion and act with compassion?

What about when you don't? Do yo act compassionately then?

Laura Story has a song out with the song starting, "Everyone needs compassion. A love that's never failing. Let mercy fall on me."

What if we recognized that need in everyone? I wonder what our world would be.

The Thief

I finally feel like I'm coming into a good patch again in terms of the depression. But I wanted to share with you something I wrote last week. I was really struggling with seeing it as a failure even though a lot of it could be traced to a med change that was financially related. Still, I felt like a failure. I decided to journal one day about why depression is not a failure. I thought I would share it with you.

Depression is a thief. That is the best description of it. It sneaks into a person’s life and it steals energy, enthusiasm, joy, self-confidence . . . . It hampers relationships and can be a hindrance to work. More than anything depression steals hope. It makes me believe that tomorrow is as dark as today and that it will never get better. It taunts me, shouting at times that it will always be like this, I will never get fully better, and because of that I am a failure of great proportions.

Depression is a thief. But it is also a liar. I must choose ways to find ways to shine truth on those lies. I must fine a way to have the courage to believe:

· Depression is an illness. There is a biological component to it.

· Like any illness it needs treatment. No one would tell a heart attack victim not to go to the hospital.

· I am not defined by depression unless I choose to let it define me. But I choose to be defined by hope and love and faith and not depression and desperation.

Dale Carnegie said, “Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed no hope at all.” I am important. I must keep trying. Perhaps something unexpected and wondrous will come from all these years of effort. I choose hope.

Don't forget to enter the contest. All you have to do is leave a comment about a way in which you are showing what matters to HIM matters to you. Click the world to go to the original post, but comments here will be accepted as well.

Esther's Choice

My sister and I were about fifteen the summer we drove to a North Carolina beach with my mom, younger sister, aunt, and cousin. We passed the mornings at the beach, returning about 1:00 to the rented condo for lunch, and cycling back to the beach in the late afternoon.

One late afternoon when we returned we found that the tide had come in and filled in a lower almost gully type area. Thinking that it would be shallow, we started to wade through.



I'm posting over at Internet Cafe today. Please click the button to finish reading this post!

Declaration of Dependence -- Hope Chronicles 53

It is one of the most famous documents in American history -- the Declaration of Independence. It was approved by the original 13 colonies on July 4, 1776. At 232 years of age, the United States of America is still in it's adolescence when compared to countries like China, England, Russia, . . . .

I've never known anyone who can recite the whole thing. However, most people are taught or at least recognize this bit of it:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

It was a noble venture into founding a country. But even though our money clearly states, "In God we trust," at this point in our history the question is, "In which god do we trust?" Yes, we needed to declare our independence from England, but sometimes I wonder if we wouldn't have been better served declaring our dependence on God.

Here is my attempt at a Declaration of Dependence.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all people are created in the image of God. It is within their nature to crave, even unknowingly, a return to a right relationship with their creator and Lord.

Where upon sin entered the world, people are unable to attain their hearts' desire. No amount of work, intelligence, or trying can bring them back into a right relationship with God.

We hold this truth to be most wondrous, that God chose to became a man. He came and walked this earth, felt the sting of hunger, the cold of night, the joy of the sunrise, the hug of mother, the betrayal of a friend.

We hold this truth to be most magnificent, that "God so loved the world that He gave His one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16) This love is for the world yet totally and inexplicably personal. Salvation was accomplished through Jesus death on the cross to pay for our sin.

We hold this truth most humbling, that the God -- who created the world and has the right to command anything He chooses from His creation -- gives us a choice to choose or reject him.

We recognize the fact that every breath, every heartbeat, and everything about our being is solely dependent on He who gave us life. We declare our utter dependence on the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

We stand in awe of his majesty and eagerly await His return.

This is hope -- utter dependence on God.

If you want to "sign" this Declaration of Dependence, leave a comment below.

Be Anxious About Nothing -- Hope Chronicles 40

It would be so much simpler if there was always a cause and effect. But over the years I've simply found that there isn't always one.

I had a good day yesterday. I slept in and puttered around the house and on the computer. In the evening, I worked at the bookstore. It made for a late night since on Saturdays we are open until 11:00PM and we had been slammed most of the evening. It meant that recovery took us a solid 45 minutes. It probably should have been longer, but the manager was shooing us out the door. It made for a late night but it was still a good day.

I got up about 8 this morning and made it to 9:00 KidStuf. But somewhere in there anxiety inexplicably wormed its way in. There was nothing that I could put my finger on to be anxious about. I don't think that "being anxious about nothing" in this context was what Paul meant when he wrote in Philippians 4:6, "Be anxious about nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."

I had a couple reactions to the sudden onslaught. My first thought was to flee. Like some of the animals I love -- horses and cats -- I am a flight animal by nature. God whispered in my ear, "Start down that road and it will be hard to turn back. It will become a habit quickly," I stayed and wandered restlessly through the entire break between services.

The anxiety did not lessen second service. Rather, I turned into a puddle and cried during each worship song. Again, there was the feeling of needing to flee. But I stayed.

Well, I stayed exactly until church was over. There was no one on my right. And the person on my left was immediately engaged in conversation. I grabbed my stuff and sprinted to the door.

But the anxiety really had little, I think, to do with church. I got home and still felt anxious.

Anxiety is a hard thing to explain to someone who has never experienced it. It is much more than butterflies in the tummy. Rather, it is like a huge spring in your body being tightened and twisted until it might burst.

Sometimes there isn't much energy associated with it -- just a restlessness. But today, there was some energy behind mine. I made a choice. My first option was to hole up in my bed and pull the covers up. My second choice was to do something. I opted for the second.

I hate yard work. My dad always did all of the outside jobs. It was his domain. Consequently, I didn't learn how to mow the grass until last year. Thankfully, a friend did it for me a few times and then taught me how.

So, I checked the oil and added gas and pulled and pulled and pulled. About the 10th pull (right before I was ready to give up in despair), it started and I began the chore. As I came around the front, I realized that my closest neighbor (our townhouses are adjoined and she is also single) needed her yard done as well. So, when I came to the end of my lawn I kept going. On the swing back, I realized that my other neighbor (a single mom with two girls) needed her yard done as well. I hesitated a moment and then crossed into her yard. I did the 3 yards in long sweeps and hoped my neighbor's neighbors weren't watching and expecting me to keep going and going and going!

Proverbs 12:25 says, "An anxious heart weighs a man down, but a kind word cheers him up." I guess I adapted it to "An anxious heart weighs her down, but doing a kind deed cheers her up."

We now probably have three of the worst cut lawns (given my inexperience) in the neighborhood, but they are cut! Though, not having a weed eater or trimmer or whatever it is I would need, I'm not sure how to get right along the fence . . . .

So, the lawns are cut and while there is still a hint of anxiety, it's not nearly as strong as it was earlier. I feel as if I chose hope when in the past I would have chosen retreat.

Separation From God vs. Yes To God

I am doing an on-line book study with some other women. It's been great. If you want to join or just read comments, click the button at left to go to Lelia's site. We are reading a book by Lysa Terkeurst called What Happens When Women Say Yes To God.

Here are my thoughts:

If you are a Christian you have had to say "Yes" to God at some point in your life -- "Yes, I am a sinner and yes, I need your salvation God." But saying "Yes" on a daily or even moment to moment basis is a difficult, even a monumental task. Given everything that God has given us, you might not think it would be so hard, but when I am honest, I have to admit that it is.

In chapter 4, "You Never Know How God Will Use You Until You Let Him," Lysa writes, "Only the pursuit of God's righteousness leads us to His best." God always wants the best for us. When we seek God -- pursue -- God's righteousness that leads us closer to God. But sometimes this can be a scary place.

Jesus went to the poor, the weeping, the sinners, the prostitutes. They aren't places that I normally want to go to. But God calls me to those places.

As I was reading, I was reminded of a woman I worked with whose two boys were in foster care and she was 8-9 months pregnant. I did fairly well with many of my clients even if I didn't agree with their choices. But this woman grated on every nerve I had.

We were not obligated to transport parents. In fact, it was common to expect them to make their own way to visits and appointments. For many of my clients this meant the bus. Even though our city isn't huge, getting from point A to point B could take and hour or more. They were dropped off down the road and then had to walk the rest of the way to our facility.

It was hot and sticky and after the visit, she had to walk back down the road and stand and wait for the next bus. She asked me if I would drop her down the street. It was not one of my better moments and I said, "No." I rationalized it as a natural consequence for her choices. I rationalized it that I didn't have extra insurance and I was using my own car and if something happened she would undoubtedly sue for every dime she could get. But really, it was just that I didn't like her.

I didn't like her. Ouch. That haunted me the next several days. The next week, I asked her if she wanted me to drop her at the end of the road. But God said, "That's not quite enough." Though it lengthened my day, I began to drive her across town and then transport the little ones to the foster parents' home.

I can't say that anything miraculous happened. I left the agency before the case closed. But, in saying "Yes" to God in those moments, I began to see her not simply as a client -- and one I didn't like -- but as someone who was made uniquely in God's image. If it were Jesus who needed a ride, would I hesitate? But then God reminded me that it was Jesus who needed the ride.

One of the things that struck me was Lysa's comment that Satan's name means "one who separates." Indeed that is what he does. He is constantly pulling and tugging and enticing us away from God and His best for us.

In church today, the altar is usually in plain sight. My church doesn't even necessarily have an altar per se. (We use a horse trough for baptism!) In Jesus' day, a curtain separated the altar from public view. When a priest would go in, they tied a rope around his foot in case something would happen and they would need to drag him out.

But when Jesus died on the cross, the temple curtain was torn. It is so specific that it says from top to bottom rather than bottom to top. We could not rip it up and reach up to God. So God, reached down and made the way.

Lysa writes, "The truth is the name of Jesus causes us to pause and redefine ourselves. The truth is that love compels us to embrace the calling to be Jesus' ambassador. The truth is freedom to soar above this life and learn to live beyond ourselves and our circumstances." I sense the dangerousness of it, but "Lord, make me pause in that redefining way. Lord, help me choose to embrace your calling on my life and to say 'Yes' every moment."

It's easy to say and harder to walk out. There are some situations right now that aren't very pretty in my life. I won't air them here, but please pray that I would say "Yes" in a moment to moment way and that I would choose that over separation from others and, most importantly, separation from God."

One last thought from Lysa that touched my heart:

With God's amazing love settled in our heart, we have His power to keep our faith steady and to experience lasting hope and joy independent of our situation.

It's true -- God wants it all. and it's in exchange of what we want for what God wants that we experience the adventure and freedom and power of saying yes to God.

I want that. Do you?

Just a Minute and the Choices We Make

It has been an emotional roller coaster around here. (Even the cats have been fighting and I've had to separate them!) I've never been a huge fan of roller coasters and I hate the emotional ones even more than the real ones. But I've been an up and down and all around physical and emotional mess.

I called the doctor today about a bit of the physical. I knew when I called what the answer would most likely be -- stress and let us know if it continues. Right. I will do that. It's just managing the stress that is the key. Since I haven't been sleeping well for about a month my ability to manage anything is truly taxed.

I also called someone else to touch base and bolster my emotional reserves. As soon as I got them on the phone, they said, "I only have a minute . . . ." Honestly, I could have taken that two ways.

1. She doesn't have time for me.
2. She only has a minute and has chosen to spend that minute on me!

Somehow, even in the midst of sleep deprivation, I'm choosing the second. It feels significantly better than the first. And given my history with her, it is probably the more accurate of the two. I know she would have given me more than a minute if she had the time and that is where her heart lies.

It did get me thinking some about the choices we make. Sometimes we just feel badly because we just feel badly. That is all there is to it. Other times we exacerbate it by the choices we make. Can you see in my example how one would have made things worse? And it is far from who this person is.

I still feel blah and out of sorts and overly tired and have a headache and all, . . . . but in making that mental choice I feel cared for rather than abandoned. That, my friends, is huge.

Is there a place in your life where there is a choice to be made in how you see something?

Choose Hope -- Hope Chronicles 4

My chosen profession is counseling. I am currently starting a private practice after having worked in the field for 5 years. It's a challenging profession because you are often dealing with people's misery. Happy people (unless they are at the end of counseling or maybe in it for mental maintenance) rarely see a counselor. One thing that has struck me is that misery is often the result of seeing life as out of control. Life "happens" to the person rather than them having any control over it.

To be sure, there are things in life that do "happen" to us: death, sickness, an accident, etc. But we often have a choice as to how we will respond to these things. That choice often makes all the difference.

The actor Christopher Reeve once said, "Once you choose hope, anything's possible." Well known for his roles as Super Man, Christopher Reeve later took a fall from a horse and became a paraplegic. So, how can one who was confined to a wheelchair and unable to do the most basic of things, have hope? I believe that it is that he chose hope.

Choosing hope is not an easy thing. It takes determination and a mindset that pushes back the darkness. I struggle to make the choice to choose hope. But knowing that it is a choice, I believe, is the first step. For when we do not think we have a choice in things, we sink into misery. Sometimes the evidence of the choice to chose hope are in the small things for me: putting on a smile, biting back the harsh word, even getting out of bed on the days that depression sinks its teeth into me. They are all choices that make everything else possible.