Fixing What Can Be Fixed

I am not particularly patient at times. So, in some ways it seems odd that after years of not really knitting, I've picked it back up again. My mom taught us to knit when we were about 10. We each made one doll blanket. I spent a semester in England and a woman who owned a yarn shop gave free lessons. Of course, we all bought our yarn from her. I made two sweaters that semester. After that, I really just made baby blankets -- the same pattern over and over.

Recently, I decided to try a different baby blanket pattern. Then, at the bookstore, I ran into a woman who told me about a yarn shop downtown -- right across the street from where I work. I started going on my lunch hour. This summer I've made two vests and one sweater.

I was working on the sweater -- short sleeved with lace. I got part way down and found that I had made an error. I kept going for a bit, thinking I might be able to somehow hide the error. But every time I looked at my project, the error jumped out at me.

A gal at the yarn shop has helped me out on several things. I really wanted her help in ripping out my work and getting the stitches put back on. But it didn't quite work out. Our schedules didn't mesh. I decided to try it myself.

Looking at the finished project, I am so glad I took the risk of pulling out those rows to fix it. Yes, it was nerve racking wondering if I would end up needing to pull the whole thing out and start all over again. I wonder now if I would have really worn my hard work if I hadn't gone back to fix it. Even if it was disguised (though I still can't think of how I would have done that), I would have known it was there. But looking at this now, I think I will get a lot of wear and enjoyment out of it.

It has made me think about other things in life. Are there things I am afraid to rip out among relationships because I might have to start over or not get all the stitches on? I think there are. But, I wonder if the work and effort might be worth it rather than covering up the mistake.

Can you think of something you need to go back and fix?

A Sea Monkey Kind of Sensitive

I don't know where I saw the ad or exactly how old I was, but I was induced into spending my allowance on "Sea Monkeys." I remember they were suppose to frolic and play and such. If you had enough money, you could even by some equipment to go with them. I think I had just enough for the Sea Monkeys. They seemed like just the kind of pet my parents couldn't say "No" to.

So, I sent the money and Sea Monkeys came. They were ceremoniously dumped into a drinking glass. They weren't nearly as fascinating as the ad claimed, but I was diligent in feeding them even if I wasn't enthralled with them.

One day I went down the basement (where the Sea Monkeys lived) to feed them. Lets just say that somehow the Sea Monkeys perished -- probably the result of the glass being accidently knocked over. I was horrified and hid under my bed crying at the thought that I had killed all those tiny, tiny monkeys.

For clarification, Sea Monkeys are actually brine shrimp. I suppose that technically they are alive. However, they are no where near what my little girl mind had imagined. For my reaction, you would have though I hurt a bunny or a puppy or something like that.

All of that is to say that I can be a bit sensitive. Okay, not just a bit. I am sensitive. Maybe too sensitive. Because that Sea Monkey kind of sensitive has carried over into my adult life.

I see a counselor. It is a good thing, but yesterday was a hard session. We were talking about friendships and relationships and all that kind of stuff. It came out that sometimes my reactions are over what they might be. Well, that can put people on edge. While Julie was just trying to helpful, it didn't go well. As I thought about it last night as I couldn't sleep because of it all, the Sea Monkey thing dawned on me. I suppose, in that instance, I was Sea Monkey sensitive too.

My question is "How do you keep from being too sensitive/Sea Monkey sensitive?" My guess is that it is all the perspective, but how do you change your perspective?

God and GE Light Bulbs -- Hope Chronicles 85

Many years ago there was an experiment that was done by GE. Or if it wasn't done by GE they used GE light bulbs. (I studied this in college and that was many moons ago, so please forgive the fact that I don't remember every detail.) The goal was to find out if the employees worked better with more light. The employees knew about the study going on. As the light increased, the work product increased. To make sure that the light was the causative factor, the researchers decided to then try lowering the lights. To their amazement, lowering the lights also caused an increase in production. What were they to make of that?

They finally came to the conclusion. It wasn't the light that caused the increase in productivity. Rather, it was the fact that the employees were being given attention. Even the decrease in light was subconsciously perceived as attention.

Why do I share this? I think there are a couple of reasons. First, I recently moved into more of a management position at my full time job. It's been an interesting transition going from one of the gang to management. I've yet to personally need to come down really hard on people. My correction style is typically "I just wanted to point this out to you. Watch out for this in the future please." It has been well received, I think. I've also encouraged people to come ask questions whenever they have them. This is particularly crucial because we have 3 relatively new employees in a office that completely totals 7. Yet, every time I ask someone to come into my office, the first question is "What did I do?" Honestly, this perplexes me. I've actually, more times than not, asked people in to get their input on something or give a compliment. I think it is just the perception of being in management.

A couple days ago I publicly asked one of the employees to come in so I could "borrow his brain" for a few minutes. He has actually been there the second longest, second only to my boss. I was working on an employee training program. Since he knows more than I do at this point in some areas, I wanted his input. What touched me was that at the end of the conversation, he thanked me three times for asking his opinion. He said sometimes he feels side-lined. To me, it felt like one of those "GE light bulb" moments for him.

I wonder what giving attention to those around us, outside of employees, does for the relationship and their self-esteem. If you have kids, do they get your attention? What about other family members? What about friends?

Lastly, I thought about what does my giving my attention to God do? I'm sure it pleases him. But, actually, it probably doesn't do much in the same sense as the GE light bulbs. I'm pretty sure God's self esteem is intact. With what I know about God, while my attention pleases Him, it doesn't make Him respond more to me or give me my every prayer and desire.

So, I realized that with God, I was asking the wrong question. It should be, what does giving God my attention do to me?

• It makes me more aware of Him in each moment of my life
• It helps me focus on His will.
• It teaches me things about myself and things about Him
• It changes my heart, my mind, and my soul.

God desires my attention, but the change happens in my soul as I realize that I fully have His attention, love, and care, every moment of each day. There is great hope in knowing that.

40 to 40 (Gratittude 36)

I am grateful for my friend Debbie. I've only known Debbie about a year and a half. I appreciate it that at times she can help me keep life in perspective.

Debbie is very petite. Her husband Joe is extremely tall. Debbie has said that it took her a long time to realize how tall he was. For most people I think his height is obvious, but I think part of it is that Debbie has enough self-confidence that in her mind she probably is as tall as Joe.

She is always on an even keel and helps me by asking, "So, why does what they think matter?" If you know me at all, what other people think matters intensely to me. Sometimes I need this counter balance to the idea that what people think matters intensely.

I love it when I go over there and she says, "Ella es mi amiga" to her children. (She is my friend. In other words I'm there to see her and not play with them.) I feel like she values my company.

40 to 40 (Gratitude 21)

I'm a time person. I like spending time with significant people in my life. I guess some people would classify that as one of my love languages.

One of my favorite days was a couple Thanksgivings ago. I had made a major change in my life and I wanted some import on a decision which involved looking at various spaces. My friend Jill went with me as I was trying to make the final call. After looking at the spaces, we went to Culver's for lunch and then headed back to her house to do some prep for Thanksgiving the next day.

I don't remember anything significant about the conversation. I just remember truly enjoying the time spent with her.

I am grateful for friends who spend time on me.

Figuring Out Friendship

It was over a year ago now, I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a long time. When we first became friends, we saw each other quite frequently and would go walking on the Constitution Trail. In the winter we would walk around the mall. But she got serious with someone and they eventually got married. She was also trying to pay off some bills, so they both started working at night cleaning offices. When the bills were paid off, they decided they liked the income, so they kept working and then on the weekends jaunted off on trips.

Over the course of paying off bills and such, I called less and less because it seemed harder and harder to maneuver a way to get together. It just kind of happened over time that we didn't see each other. When I ran into her over a year ago, she said flatly, "My mother died and you didn't call."

I tried to apologize and explained that I didn't get the paper, that I hadn't known. Her face was stern. The question on my mind later was, "If you wanted to talk, why didn't you call me?"

I understand that she was hurt, but I wasn't sure how I was to know unless she or husband or someone called. I don't get the paper. I probably wouldn't look at the obituaries if I did. I definitely don't go online to look them up. I hadn't meant to be neglectful just as I'm sure she hadn't meant to neglect all the goings on in my life. But the blame was there.

Yesterday I got an email that set my teeth on edge. Again it was a blame kind of thing. I met a woman early this year from church. I had called and we had done something a handful of times. She quit coming to church but I still called a few times. The last time we were set to get together, I had called at the last minute. She didn't have anything going on. I hadn't had a very good day. I went to the restaurant and was waiting for her when she called to cancel. It seemed she had gotten a better offer.

I was hurt but it was nothing that couldn't be mended. But, I figured that since she had canceled I would wait and let her call to reschedule. It was a relatively new friendship and I didn't want to fall into the routine of being the only one to initiate. That was probably the end of April and I never heard from her until yesterday. And then I got the "You must be really angry since you haven't called." But she hadn't called either. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I emailed her back and pointed this out. I don't know where it leaves us.

In most relationships, there seems to be a person who is asked and a person who does the asking. I think it is rarely 50-50. But it does get tiresome to always be the asker.

The question I am pondering is "How do we take friendhsips as they are?" Some people are the initiators. But I don't know that the people on the other side of the friendship value it any less. Still, that is the trap I can fall into.

So, here are some questions for you that might shed some light on things for me:

• Are you an initiator? If so, do you get your feelings hurt when others don't initiate with you?
• If you aren't an initiator, how do you feel like you communicate value in a friendship?
• What is one rule of thumb you have in making and keeping friends?

Sometimes I wish that we could go back to being children. I'm fascinated by how easily children can pick up friends. The girl they met in the McDonald's play space is quickly included in the list of friends. If you are not watching closely, they are making plans to meet again at the same time next week (even if they can't drive and don't have money) because they have formed a best friend club. And then there are boys with their pickup basketball games. To children it seems that all the world is a friend.

Maybe because we don't play on jungle gyms anymore, it is harder for adults to form those relationships. Yes, I know these aren't life long relationships, but still it seems an easier way to begin and has many more chances than our grownup renditions.

Trading Shakespeare for Pie

Last Thursday my friend Jill called and asked what I was doing: watering the flowers. She said she had just won tickets to the Shakespeare Festival in town. She wanted to know if I wanted to go with her. Sure! The tickets are usually $40 a piece and I was just going to watch summer reruns.

They run three shows at a mansion in town. Each night is a different show. The night we went they were running Titus Andronicus. Neither of us knew a thing about it. We probably should have googled it. While I don't like horror films, I do enjoy some of the more intense shows like CSI or Criminal Minds. But neither of us were prepared for the intensity of this show. I just looked it up on Wikepidia. It said that it was, by far, Shakespeare's bloodiest work and probably lost favor in the Victorian era because of it's gore. If you haven't seen it, it is largely about revenge.

Intermission rolls around and we chatted about how "new" we think all the problems are but this is evidence that some of the same problems we face today were faced in the 1500's and probably before. I wasn't having trouble following it, but I was surprised by how much all the violence was impacting me. Sensing Jill was feeling a bit of the same, I said, "So do you want to leave?"

We abandoned $40 a piece free seats and went for pie instead. It was much less intense and we had a good time catching up.

It may be Shakespeare and the acting may be outstanding, but it doesn't mean it's all good. Even the classics may need to be screened!

The up part was that we got together. Normally, we both would have stayed home and tended to things around the house. The lure of those tickets got us together. Intermission gave us a way out. Pie gave us some fellowship.

Yes, William, you wrote some masterpieces. I'm not sure what it says about our level of culture, but I think I'll take pie with a friend any day.

Secret Choices

I was raised in an abusive homes and abuse thrives on secrecy. While I've spilled that secret, I am still very private. Lots of times, I just don't even think to tell someone something. It doesn't cross my mind because it is "private." Perhaps a better word is personal.

I worked in ministry for 11 years. Hearing students' wounds was something to keep between me and God. (Unless, of course, there was any danger.)

Add to that the fact that I have an MA in counseling. By law and ethics, that stuff is confidential.

I don't think of myself as a natural gossip. I just don't tend to repeat very many things.

Knowing all of that, I am always a bit befuddled when someone tells me, "Please don't repeat this." Generally, repeating 95% of things wouldn't cross my mind.

There is a difference between secrets and confidentiality. A secret was the abuse in my family. Confidentiality is a professional thing. But the two blend together for me at times. Today, I've decided I don't even like the idea of secrets. They cost too much. No, that doesn't mean I'm going to tell everyone everything I hear. Rather, I have felt the sting of secrets kept today in a fresh way.

I won't air it here (that would hardly be right or fair), but I found out today about a secret choice a friend made. Had I known for sure the path she was considering, I would have waved big caution flags, jumped up and down to get her attention, and possibly made nuisance out of myself for a brief time. But I would have known it was her decision and after saying my bit, I would have let the issue rest with her. The sad fact is that no one seems to have known about this huge decision she was making. Did she have opportunity to share? Yes. She chose not to.

I am beginning to believe that if something doesn't fall into the fun surprise category that secrets are dangerous things. In this case, I think she knows it is a wrong choice, possibly even dangerous, but she was bent on doing it anyway. If you don't discuss it with anyone, you won't have to deal with anyone balking at the decision. It makes it much easier to go through with what you want.

But if you have to keep it a secret, do you really believe in your heart that it is a good decision?

Have I done my share of keeping secrets? Yes. And I'm not even talking about the abuse here. I've made bad decisions and gone on making them and keeping them secrets for a long time. Honestly, the heartache they caused was exponentially worse than any satisfaction or warped pleasure that came from the decision behind the secret.

So, if you are at a crossroads and are making a decision, please seek counsel from those who are wise around you. Yes, it is still your decision, but remember the above question. If it must be done in secret, is it really a good decision? God is a God of light.

Sorry for the sermonette today, but it has weighed on my heart since early this morning.

MIA

"Are you okay?"

The question was so immediate to my picking up the phone that it took me off guard. "Yeah. I just got home from work . . . ."

"I was worried . . . ."

I had talked to my friend, Jill, last night. Austin and Kolya had invited me to their band's first concert. (When Cypress Road takes off, I get to say that I knew them when . . . .) I had to work at the book store and Jill invited me to come for dinner right after and stay for their concert. But apparently all of my synapses weren't firing and both things slipped my mind.

We all have emotional traps we fall into. One of mine is that if I went MIA (missing in action) that it would take forever for people to notice. Aside from work, there is no one that I interact with on a daily basis. And then there are the weekends. If I'm not scheduled at the Barnes and Noble, then there in nowhere I have to be. While people might notice at church, it might take a few times of missing for there to be a response. There are a multitude of benign (vacation, out of town, etc) reasons for someone to miss.

I got off work at 6:00 and that would have put me at Jill's by 6:15 or so. Thanks to her call, I made it to the 7:30 premier. While I don't want to make a habit of missing things, her timely response and care touched me. I told her as I was leaving, "That blows my it-would-take-forever-for-someone-to-miss-me theory out of the water!" Perhaps it is silly, but it felt nice.

Pieces of My Heart

Sometimes God gives us people for just a time. And sometimes those people take bits of our hearts with us when they go. I have to believe that even though I will miss them and hate the having to say "Goodbye" that our meeting and doing parts of life together was for all of our good.

Today, I am saying "Goodbye" to Allison, Grace, and Elena. I met them through church in December 2006. We quickly became friends. Allison has graciously shared her girls with me. Yesterday, I spirited the girls off for a few hours of fun.

We went to Barnes and Noble and I let them each pick out something. Then we had lunch out and then went to the store so they could help me pick out flowers. I am not much on yard work, but last year a friend helped me plant some flowers in front. I liked having them, so we picked some out for the front and got two longer planters to set on the deck. (I hope I did it right and that they survive the planting!

This is Grace watering the flowers.

Here are Grace and Elena working in front of the the house. (Sorry, they got a little dirty, Allison! But they had fun.)

Elena and Grace with finished product out front. Last year they spilled over the pot. I hope they do this year as well.




We did white and orange daisies in the back. But I think the two prettiest flowers are the ones in pink! I love this picture of them.

And because it wouldn't be time at Amy's without popsicles and the park, we headed down to the neighborhood park. This is Grace on top of some of the equipment. I've loved listening to her pray over the last year and a half.

Here is Elena, digging her way to China. Actually, with her heart for God, I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she ends up as missionary somewhere . . . .

Though it hurts to say "Goodbye," I wouldn't have traded the bit of sunshine they've been in my life for anything.

And with believers, it never is totally a goodbye but more of a "See you later!"



Please pray for their new adventure -- wherever it leads.

Princess or Stray? (Part 3) -- Hope Chronicles 19 cont.

This idea of the princess and stray has been wiggling about in my brain for a couple of months. It came to fruition with yet another food incident with Mali. (Click here for part 1 and here for part 2 if you don’t know what I am referring to. It'll all make more sense if you do!) I feel like God gave me the image of the princess and the stray and I’ve enjoyed writing about it.

Here is my confession and my disclaimer; I have not yet arrived in this area. So, I can give you a glimpse of where I have been and the path I am on, but I don’t know yet all the twists and turns it will take. Having said that, here it goes – from one stray to another!

---

Over the years, I have come to believe that there is a container in each of our hearts. The conatiners get filled up when we are loved on and are that with which we pour love into others. Through our lives, that container gets beat on and dented. Maybe it was the taunting of the kids at school or never having mom say she loved you. Maybe it was something big like the death of a parent in your tender, early years. Maybe it was all the little things that accumulated into something big. Maybe it was abuse. I don’t know what it might be for you.

Sometimes, the things of life come so hard that the container gets punctured. Sometimes they are tiny holes and other times they are jagged, gapping holes. When the container gets punctured, all the love and good things leak out. I know that there have been times that in spite of an outpouring of love and care, I have remained thirsty for more and more because every drop that gets poured in runs out.

God has always intended for me to be a princess – the beloved child of the King of the universe. Life has made me a stray.

How does a stray heart become a princess heart?

First and foremost, I need to believe that God is in the business of fixing broken hearts, broken containers. He can hammer out the dents and fix the holes. It’s not always the easiest or quickest of processes, but God is all about making me whole. But I need to believe Him first so that He can work on all those hard areas.

In Mark 6, Jesus visits his hometown. Maybe it was that they knew him when he was a child, but the people of Nazareth had a hard time believing Jesus. Their lack of belief was actually limiting. In verses 5-6 it says, “And he could do no mighty work there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and healed them. And he marveled because of their unbelief.” (ESV)

Do I think God could do whatever He wanted? Yes. But I’ve heard it put this way. God is a gentleman. He will not force himself into a life. Though it alternately makes His heart dance for joy or crushes Him, we are free to accept or reject Him.

But it isn’t easy to just say, “I believe.” The father who brought his son to Jesus for healing and said, “If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us,” had the right of it. " 'If you can'?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." How does the father respond? “I believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.” (NIV) I am learning to pray this prayer.

But even then, it doesn’t mean that all the holes are neatly zapped. (Oh, that it were so!) Yes, God sometimes does an “instant miracle.” But I am learning that it is often God’s way to work over time. The healing that comes after 10 or 20 years is no less a miracle, no less a work of God, than the one that happened in an instant. Perhaps, there is some part of my character that needs to be honed, something I need to learn in the time spent in dependence on God that I would not learn if He had chose to zap that area. (But I will admit to a certain level of frustration when the tears are flowing.)

I recently learned that the word used to describe Jesus’ transfiguration (Mark 9) and our transformation are the same word. The only difference is that when it describes Jesus it is in the passive tense, a sense of already being. For us it is an active tense describing the process of becoming.

I need to understand who God is. I need to know Him intimately. I’m striving to keep scripture always in front of me.

I need to trust God. It is only in knowing Him that I can fully trust Him with all the dark places in my life that keep me in the land of “Never Enough,” that keep me suspecting that He is holding out on me.

I need to live in a community of consistency. Granted, I will never find full consistency in the human realm, but a community striving to be consistent goes a long way. Going back to my Mali. It is continuing to consistently feed her. Not that I would stop feeding her, but sometimes I shake my head and wonder when her heart will change. (I imagine God does that with me!) It’s through consistency I learn to trust.

I survived a childhood fraught with abuse. That has left the large, jagged holes in my heart. I have been in counseling forever! I’ve been with Julie, my present counselor, 6 ½ years. Sometimes I bemoan the fact that it is taking so long. (Note to self. Reread the paragraph about miracles that take 10-20 years.) I started seeing her after a disastrous counseling relationship. When I bemoan it taking so long, Julie gently reminds me that it took year to a year and a half for me to begin to trust her. But her persistent consistency won out. Julie is great, but God is even immeasurably more persistent and consistent.

Some friends from church also get the consistent-over-the-long-haul awards. I suspect, at times, they’ve wondered if my high need would ever diminish. (Sometimes it resurfaces even now). But they have stuck it out with me in little and big ways. I need to remember that and be lovingly consistent with others as well. It has the power to change lives.

I choose to believe God that I am his wholly and dearly loved child. I am “now and not yet.” In spite of my stray heart, I am more princess than stray for God has laid claim to my heart. So rather than a stray, I am a princess in progress.

One day my heart will fully be a princess heart that fully trusts my God and King. I will reside not just in Plenty but the land of Abundantly More Than Enough. Just as in the Old Testament God was the Levites' inheritance; God is my strength and portion. Who could ask for anything more?

Princess in Progress