Woe! It’s Wednesday: Perspective

I was reminded today of one of my favorite legends.

I’ve heard it told as an anecdote about the prophet Elijah, King Arthur’s Merlin, and an unnamed wise man. I’ll use Elijah because I want to.

Elijah and his aide were journeying through a kingdom. They stopped at a rich man’s home and asked for shelter for the night. The rich man sent them to his barn and tossed them some pig slop for dinner.

The next morning, Elijah thanked the rich man and paid for a local tradesman to repair his crumbling wall. 

That night they lodged with a poor couple who shared their home and food freely, including plenty of milk from their only cow.

The next morning, the cow died.

As Elijah and his assistant continued on their journey, the younger man became angry with God and demanded Elijah tell him why the rich man was allowed to treat them so poorly and have his fence mended while the generous poor couple had to lose their cow.

Elijah sighed. “What you don’t know is that there was a vast treasure buried in the rich man’s wall. I had it repaired so he wouldn’t find it and become more greedy and selfish. It had been decreed that the poor woman would die that night, but in appreciation for the hospitality, God took the cow instead.”

I love that there’s more going on here that we don’t know. That it all comes down to trust. Trust and obey. Hey, I hear a song coming on…

Oh. Anyway, I remind myself of this story when things happen that I can’t make sense of.

Sometimes I forget that God is in charge and I’m not Him. He has his reasons. He is sovereign. He knows what’s needed and what’s best. I trust Him.

I do.

Really.

Thanks, I needed to be reminded that I do.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: Positively Maybe I’m Done With Downton Abbey

Unless you’ve been living on the slopes of Mount Everest, you’ve probably heard all the kerfuffle about Downton Abbey and its season ending episode. Viewers are outraged and threatening Julian Fellowes with pitchforks and torches. The writers and production team are busy pointing fingers and yelling their reasons.

I’ve read some of both sides and I have to say, I agree with them both. 

The reasons it made sense:

Viewers liked the actor and wouldn’t want to see that character played by anyone else.

His story arc was done. What else could be done to him?

His death would make the other characters mine their own depths for future storylines.

 

The reasons con:

It was the second family member death in Season 3. How many tragedies should this family bear?

The whole episode ended with no hope for next year. No reason to tune in. Grief. Mourning. More black dresses.

Viewers feel betrayed.

I’m not sure I feel betrayal but dismay? Definitely.

This season seemed more soap opera than period drama. It also began overlaying 21st century political correctness on early 20th century conventions. I don’t believe that a man who would forbid his family to be served lunch by a former prostitute would be so accepting of a homosexual man dressing him and serving at his table.

I’ll likely tune in to the beginning of Season 4, but they better hook me and reel me in. Otherwise, I’ll move on.

What do you think? Did the ending leave you yearning for more? Or were you let down?

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: Life in Paradise

When this posts, I should be over midway through our dream vacation in Maui. It’s the longest I’ve been away from home. The longest I’ve slept on a strange bed and a new pillow. The longest I’ve spent without a dog or cat curled up my feet. The longest I’ve gone without vacuuming, dusting, or scrubbing toilets.

Part of me is really looking forward to the time away. Another part of me is dreading it. I don’t know how much I’ll miss my pillow. It will help that our kids and grandkids are coming with us for the first two weeks, so it’ll be less time that we’re separated from them and less time to miss them.

It’s strange that something that should be fun and relaxing can also induce feelings of uncertainty and unease. It’s the fear of the unknown. Another fear. Yes, I see the irony. This is the year I’m facing fears and conquering them. And another one is about to clobber me.

Well, there’s only cure. Pack my bag and step on that plane.

God willing, that’s what I’ll be doing in a few days. By the time you read this, I’ll be in paradise. But who knows if I’ll be having just enough fun and dreading the time to come home or if I’ll be counting the days till I get to hug my dog and cat.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: Fear Check-in

I did a scary thing recently.

I commented on a political Facebook post. Even though I knew the person was opposite me in our political beliefs. The person whose post I was commenting on was perfectly nice and civil and we had a good discussion. Neither of us changed our minds about our positions. But something interesting happened.

We’re still speaking. S/he didn’t decide to unfriend me. They didn’t name call or question my upbringing.

It was actually quite delightful. I may do it again someday.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: When it rains …

I often wonder how people without a faith get through life.

Not just for the big things like cancer, catastrophes, or chemical spills, but for things like traffic jams and a tax bill and a leaky dishwasher.   Or a dog in the dishwasher.

Do they rail at an unknown entity and shake their fist at the universe? Or shrug and figure it’s their turn to be swatted by the cosmos?

As a believer, life is so much easier when I know high blood pressure, crazy political rants, and gophers serve a higher purpose.

To make me more like Christ.

How does a leaky dishwasher make me resemble Jesus?

Well, if I take a deep breath and remember that God orders my day, then for some reason unknown to me, I must need to be one with dishwasher that day. I may not like it. I may not enjoy it. But it’s where I’m supposed to be and that’s good enough for me.

I hope I remember this lesson the next time I’m stuck in traffic and hungry and I know a pile of laundry is waiting for me at home.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday

I’ve noticed a theme forming for this year. I often take a word or phrase and try to consciously live it throughout the year. I’ve done Kindness, Speaking the Truth in Love, Defy Gravity. In 2013 the word that keeps cropping up is Fearless. Several books have crossed my path on taming fears.

I don’t tend to think of myself as a fearful person. My husband was a cop for nearly thirty years and people often asked me I worried about him and I truthfully said I did not.

I appear fearless. I’ve gone scuba diving and snorkeling. I rode a bike down Haleakala. I drive in San Francisco and LA. I fly.

But I’m coming to realize that fear and worry are not the same thing.

I am afraid of offending people so I tend to keep my opinions to myself until I feel safe.

I am afraid of being hurt.

In a recent writing exercise, I had to write why I was afraid to write the story. As I wrote a lot of reasons why I wasn’t afraid, it became apparent that I was afraid it would be good and then there would be expectations placed on me to do it again. So I’m afraid of success.

I’m afraid of rejection. I’ve talked about that one before, it’s a big one with me.

I’m a collector of quotes for all occasions. My current favorite is from Jillian Michaels, one of The Biggest Loser trainers. She says, “Feel the fear. Do it anyway.”

That’s my goal for this year. Figure out my fears. Acknowledge them. Do something scary anyway.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday

We’re back from Portland and we had a lovely time.

Yes, it rained. 

But it didn’t slow us down at all.

I did worry a bit about being disappointed but I wasn’t.

We visited Voodoo Donuts, Stumptown Coffee, Caffee Vita, Jake’s Famous Crawfish, Powell’s Books (it’s free to visit, but we spent money in there at a rate of about $100 an hour), Tillamook Cheese in Tillamook, Penner-Ash Winery, Erath Winery, Chateau Ste. Michelle, The Station Pizzeria, Piazza Italia, Mount Hood, Multnomah Falls (above), Horsetail Falls, Pine State Biscuits (below) and Cannon Beach.

Did you sense a theme?

We do tend to focus on the food when we travel.

God is so gracious. We never got lost (or so lost we couldn’t figure out where we were). We didn’t argue (until the last day after 10 hours of driving so that’s not only understandable but kind of a foregone conclusion). The weather didn’t stop us from doing what we wanted. We ate some amazing food.

We’re ready to go back anytime.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: I’m not a good Christian

I try to be.

But I’m not.

For several reasons.

1) Scripture says I’m not. Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” And Romans 3:10 is pretty clear, too: “As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one. There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God.” (My italics added.)

2) I don’t love others the way I should. I’m petty and selfish and I think of myself far too often.

3) I tire of pretending that I’m a nice person. But I know so many nice people that I’m afraid to let them see the petty and selfish real me.

4) I’m too … cynical. Maybe that’s too strong. Prosaic? or skeptical maybe. Because I’m not a good Christian, I judge others. I second guess their motives. 

5) I don’t really care about theology and Calvinism vs Arminianism or pre-Trib vs. post-Trib, Creationist-young-earth or Intelligent Design old earth. Those arguments just get people riled up and angry and give them an excuse to hold a grudge here on earth. It’s not going to matter even a little bit when we get to heaven. There’s no entrance exam! In his January 29th blog Donald Miller made that point. He said God will look up and say, “Hey, you! I know you! Come on in.”

6) I have a gay friend who is dying. I’m not trying to convert him. He says he loves Jesus. That’s good enough for me, but not for some others who think I should be urging him to repudiate his lifestyle and sexual preferences.

Those are the reasons I’m not a good Christian.

But … Jesus loves me anyway. And that’s pretty great and makes all of that other stuff meaningless.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: New Seasons

I’m writing this about ten days before it will post.

Hopefully, if all goes according to plan, when it posts, I’ll be in Oregon visiting the Portland area.

I’ve never been north of California and I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it.

I have a story that I’ve been working on for several years. I tried to set this story and the characters in a place I was familiar with. Fresno. San Francisco. Somewhere in California, at least.

They refused. They live in Portland and that’s all there is to it. I’ll get to see the coffee shop where Cricket goes for her daily cup. I’ll see the warehouse where she witnessed the murder that sent her into the Witness Security Program. I’ll see Powell’s City of Books. It’s not in my story, but I know it’s a must stop for every bibliophile who passes through. Which will include me in a week or so!

I’m also working on not getting my hopes set too high. I know it’s an iffy time of year and weather could deter or delay us or necessitate a change in plans and itinerary.

So it’s a high wire balancing act of excitement, tempered by realism. As our day of departure nears though, the excitement is winning.

See you in a week!

 

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: Important or Urgent

I too often give into the tyranny of the urgent.

A dear and longtime friend has been on my heart and mind for the last week. I know that means I need to call or write to her.

  freeimages.co.uk

I keep putting it off. Why? Because her anniversary was back in November and I didn’t call or write or text or send a card.

What’s really embarrassing is that I remembered it was her anniversary on the day. I could have done any of the above, even sent a quick text. But I didn’t. And I can’t remember even one other thing I did that day that was so important I couldn’t take the time to send a lousy text message.

I’m cleaning up my e-mail inbox today and I found our last “catching up” note. It’s from last June.

So enough blogging today from me. I have a long email to write and a phone call to make.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: Scared to Death? Or Scared to Peace?

The world is a scary place.

School shootings.

Domestic violence.

Road rage.

Mama Snooki. 

People are running to buy guns and ammo as fast as others are decrying the availability of weapons.

Two centuries ago people didn’t worry about car accidents or road rage. They just dreaded small pox and influenza.

One hundred years ago, random violence was limited to gangsters and feuds. But typhoid and lead poisoning were common.

Even twenty years ago some of our everyday annoyances were unknown. For instance, updating a piece of software on your computer and it hijacks your search program and instead of getting search results from Google, the computer has been brain washed and insists on sending you to ask.com for results. I’m so frustrated right now that I’m tempted to resort to some computing violence.

Anyway, my point is that there have always been worry-making issues in life. Whether it was roaming bandits, diphtheria, or assault weapons, mankind has never lived a life free of worry.

We can let it cripple us. Or we can get up, dust ourselves off, and dive back in.

When Stud Muffin was in law enforcement I was often asked about how much I worried. I truthfully said I very rarely worried.

I made a conscious decision that I would not live my life in fear of what might happen. I’d rather deal with the here and now.

Matthew  6:34 says it well: Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I’d rather spend my today concerned about its trouble. Tomorrow’s worry will arrive soon enough.

Now, I have to roll up my metaphorical sleeves and figure out how to get rid of this annoying  search engine hijack. I’ve done all the uninstalls, resets, etc. This is today’s worry. Tomorrow it will be something else.

It’s the way of us humankinds. 

Woe! It’s Wednesday

Life is hard. Life isn’t fair. Life sucks.

I’ve heard (and felt) all of the above in the last few weeks. And with some good reasons:

• A friend is slowly being crippled by a chronic disease.
• A thirty-something mother of three young girls from church has decided to stop chemo and begin palliative/comfort care for the remainder of her life.
• Two babies died this week.
• A niece passed a kidney stone the size of a pea.
• A young man is dying of AIDS.

Life is hard.

Life isn’t fair.

Life sucks.

But it’s what we’re stuck with as long as we’re on this side of eternity. I keep coming back to the fact that “… our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” (2 Corinthians 4:17)

I have a friend who keeps threatening promising to make t-shirts that say “Heaven is Gonna Rock.”

The more people I know on that other side, the dearer Heaven becomes. I made one of the dying people I know promise to deliver a few messages for me.

I’m not morbidly thinking I will die anytime soon, or wishing for heaven.

It’s more like a favorite aunt and uncle has moved to Fairbanks. I’ve never had a desire to go to Fairbanks and see it for myself. But just knowing that someone I love is there makes the thought of traveling to Fairbanks a little more bearable. And it makes Fairbanks a bit more special to me.

You know how real life is left behind when you’re on vacation? Heaven is kind of like a permanent vacation from laundry and dental cleanings.

It’s gonna ROCK!

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Woe! It’s Wednesday

Life happens whether you’re ready for it or not.

Stud Muffin has been planning his retirement for years. It finally happened last month. We’ve been so busy with a couple trips and the holidays that it hasn’t really sunk in yet that he’s going to be underfoot  around 24/7.

I always start each new year with a renewed focus on my writing, my time management, and my office. None of that has happened so far.

It’s not that I’ve been relaxing on a sunny beach or watching Downton Abbey (I wish – I still haven’t had time to watch Sunday’s premiere).

We’ve bought a new computer and I’m trying to get that set up (it’s a Mac and the learning curve is a bit more than I expected). We swapped mattresses with one daughter and that led to getting new bed coverings for both bedrooms. I’m not sure how that happened, but it took a couple of days to get everything changed out, the old stuff laundered and put away. We’ve been cleaning out cupboards and closets. Stud Muffin took a carload of stuff to the thrift store yesterday. We’re getting things accomplished, just not what we had planned.

Isn’t that the saying? “Life is what happens when you make other plans.”

Proverbs 19:21 says, “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

As long as I keep reminding myself that God’s purposes are being accomplished, my messy office isn’t such a big deal. [Breathe in, Carrie. It’ll be okay.]

I do believe that. It’s just hard when the list grows exponentially each day.

So, on to more planning but with lowered expectations of getting anything on my to-do list checked off.

Thanks. I needed that reminder.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday

Things are calming down. A little.

One daughter is moved and adjusting to her new job. The other is working and taking care of an injured husband and a fussy toddler. Stud muffin is counting down his days to retirement while measuring how long his hair is.

Yep, he’s letting it grow. After 29 and a half years of having to be clean shaven with short hair and adhering to grooming standards, he’s already starting to let his hair grow. He’s (sort of) keeping it off his collar, but he hasn’t cut the rest of it for a couple of months now. He’s looking pretty scraggly. Almost unkempt. In a way that’s new for him.

He’s gotten a few comments at work, but his attitude is, What are they gonna do? Fire me? He’s gotten some double takes and askance looks at church and out shopping. His daughters hate it and never fail to let him know their feelings.

Several friends and family members think he’s crazy. And they think I’m even crazier for “letting” him do it.

I have mixed emotions. I’m not crazy about the longer locks. But I do recognize his need to rebel a little now. He’s worked hard for 35 years to provide for me and his family. If he wants to quit getting haircuts, I think it’s his business. I don’t want him telling me how to color or cut my hair. I’m not about to dictate his choices in the same matters.

Now, when we get to what he wears, that’s a whole different matter. He tells people that I dress him, so my reputation is on the line when he goes out in scruffy sweats. I scolded him recently for wearing a shirt out to lunch and shopping that had been relegated to the Not in Public section of his closet. It’s stained. The collar is fraying.

He crossed a line and must be stopped. If the shirt makes one more public appearance, it’ll be placed in the dumpster.

He can wear his hair how he likes but I do have some standards.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday

We’re in the midst of a tough season. Literally and figuratively.

It’s November and still in the upper 70s to low 80s during the day. I don’t know what to wear.

One of our daughters is overwhelmed with stress. Things completely out of her hands keep throwing her hard balls. She’s ducking and catching but some of them are hitting her right in the head.

Stud muffin is counting down the days until his retirement. This will mean a change in lifestyle for us. He’ll be around even more than he is now. I’ve always made it a habit to stop what I’m doing and respond when he needs something, whether it’s pointing out the milk in the front of the refrigerator or holding the log while he runs a chain saw through it. That’s worked well for us. But when he’s here 24/7, I don’t think I do that and continue to do the things I need to do to write and run a home.

Our son-in-law is facing his second back surgery in a year and a half. Our daughter will be taking care of him as well as her toddler and second grader, while still working.

Good friends are experiencing health and family struggles and great loss.

The only constant right now is stress and change.

I’m trying to focus on the unchangeable.

God is in charge.

He knows what He’s doing.

And when I stress or worry I go back to those two things.

God is in charge and He knows what He’s doing.

Repeat after me:

God is in charge and He knows what He’s doing.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: It’s the Little Things

 

If only I could Photoshop out the dust …

This is a picture of some little mementos that I keep in front of my monitor.

• A little zebra that a friend brought back from a mission trip to Africa.
• A tadpole to remind me that we’re all in process of becoming the person God wants us to be.
• A rosebud that fell off a beautiful bookmark from a friend.
• A stone heart that I purchased on a recent trip out of town with friends. To remind me to love at all times.
• 2 pieces of beach glass to remind me of a special time away and that when I feel tossed around by life, it’s just smoothing off the rough jagged edges.

A few weeks ago for several mornings in a row, I found the zebra in the hallway outside the office. Then the heart disappeared. Someone was messing with my mementos. I blamed Stud Muffin for opening and closing the window above my desk too vigorously. I never said it out loud, but I figured that’s what happened.

Until I caught the culprit red-pawed:

I don’t know if he liked the pretty colors or the heft of them against his batting paws.

I just know they kept him enthralled for hours.

I do the same thing. I allow myself to be distracted by pretty things. Time-wasting things. Unimportant things.

It’s been a week or so since the cat swiped anything off my desk. Maybe he’s outgrowing his need for aimless distractions.

I hope I am as well.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: The Circle of Life

 

We’ve had quite a 2012. A fairly mild winter. A short spring. An endless summer – and I don’t mean in a good way. It was still in the 100s here just a week or so ago.

 

 

 

A view from the car window, September 2011, near Hamilton, New York.

 

 

Sunday I told Stud Muffin that I smelled fall in the air for the first time.

He scoffed and went out to wash his truck. The sun was warm and he didn’t feel the chill bite in the breeze.

Monday morning I woke up to gray rain and a grouchy husband complaining about his clean truck being rained on.

That’s the thing about time and seasons. They pass whether we’re ready for them or not.

This last weekend we heard that a family friend passed away. A niece got married. Friends announced they will be grandparents for the first time. A job opportunity came along.

We may not feel ready for winter or death. Spring and new life may seem so far away.

But God is constant and unchanging and faithful. No matter the season, the temperature or who’s in the playoffs.

That’s a comfort to me.

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Woe! It’s Wednesday: The Rewards of Being a Victim

A friend recently told me something that grabbed my attention:

“The rewards of being a perpetual victim is no responsibility, no accountability, and eternal empathy.”

This is the kind of thing that makes me nod when I hear it, but the deeper implications are only clear after meditating on it for some time.

I know a few people who positively exult in their victimhood. Every time I see them, they bring up the past, how they were hurt and done wrong.

Their fixation on their hurt enables them to stay focused on several things.

• Their selves
• Their feelings
• Their grievances

If they let go of that victim mentality, they’d have to examine what personal responsibility they bear for the problem.

Then they’d have to be accountable. Maybe apologize. Maybe forgive. Maybe think about someone else’s needs and wants.

How much easier it is to stay wrapped up in their own hurt, continuing in the victim role, being rewarded with no consequences and empathy from their enablers. How sad.

I’m off to take some responsibility and do some apologizing.

Technorati Tags: Woe It's Wednesday,Victimhood,Personal accountability

Woe! It’s Wednesday: How Rude!

I’ve blogged before about how contemporary society has coarsened and become careless about simple courtesy, such as RSVPing, returning messages, and cussing in public.

I’ve been noticing another example of how we’re all getting ruder and louder and more selfish.

I had the opportunity recently to see Diana Krall in concert. She’s been one of our favorite musicians for quite a while. A few years ago when we were in the midst of some severe trials, her music buoyed us and helped us keep on. We’d get more bad news, look at each other, and say, “Time to go buy another CD.” Ms. Krall doesn’t tour often and gets to the west coast even less often, so we were thrilled that she was coming to a small historic theater an hour from home. We bought our tickets months ahead, as soon as we knew about it. We waited and anticipated a fun evening.

When we arrived, the ticket takers said, “If you have to leave the theatre, please wait until the end of the song to return to your seat.” They made eye contact while saying this. The lobby was lined with signs that said the same thing. The restroom mirrors had the signs. There was no way you could enter that concert without knowing the expected behavior.

Sure enough, during the first song, a couple with drinks in hand, scooched along the front row to take their seats. Not thirty seconds later they stood and scooched back to a different pair of seats.

Ms. Krall and her trio played a few more minutes, then paused to welcome the audience. She barely opened her mouth and people started yelling, “We love you, Diana!” and “Tell about Rio!” She sighed. Said, “I love you, too.” Every time she tried to talk, people yelled comments. “Where’s Elvis?” was next.

When did buying a concert ticket give us the right to badger and interrupt the performer? When did knowing and loving someone’s work become an illusion that we have a relationship? And when did it become okay to treat a theatre or club or concert hall like our living room? People in the front row at the Krall concert placed their drinks at the edge of the stage. Ms. Krall did say to the late arriving scoochers, “This isn’t a bar,” and soon the drinks were removed.

She responded with grace and courtesy to the boors who called themselves fans. Too bad they don’t give her the same honor and courtesy to perform for those of us who were there to listen to her music, not find out if Elvis had left the building.

Technorati Tags: Diana Krall,concert etiquette,rudeness,modern culture mores

Woe! It’s Wednesday

Coffee Cup Wisdom

I bought myself this mug a little over a year ago.

Its meaning is twofold.

Yes, I enjoy wine and a bottle is always a welcome gift.

But the bigger sentiment is about who we connect with. Some of the most meaningful gifts are the simplest. It’s the bag of Cabernet taffy from the friend who knows you enjoy wine. It’s a gently used purse from someone who knows your taste. It’s a decorative tree with leaves made from the cover of your newest book. It’s memories preserved as jewelry or framed photographs.

The dearest gifts declare that you were thought about and you are loved.

Gifts have been a challenge in our marriage. Whether because of being raised with different parenting styles or gift-giving philosophies, we’ve had a few tense conversations. I finally told my dear husband not to give me a gift if he wasn’t going to put at least a little thought into it and I’d rather have a card and a kiss than something I was going to have to return because he didn’t pay attention. That talk came after he gave me some handheld dumb-bell weights when I’d specifically said I wanted wrist weights. I opened the dumb-bells and graciously said thank you even though I was sighing and thinking about when I could exchange them. He then said, with perfect sincerity, “I was going to get you wrist weights because I thought it made more sense for walking, but you said you wanted dumb-bells.”

That was the last thoughtless gift I received and we’re all the happier for it.

We just celebrated our 35th anniversary and he got me the perfect gift. He listened and thought about it.

I have a story idea set in Portland, even though I’ve never been to Portland. I’ve tried to move the story to somewhere I’m familiar with but it won’t leave. I’ve mentioned several times that I want to go to Portland. I periodically look at airfares. I’m saving miles on a credit card. But wasn’t getting any closer. For our anniversary, he gave me a gift certificate that said a week in February, which was a bit cryptic. And a gift bag of Portland guidebooks.

As much as I love the thought of going to Portland, the real gift is he listened to me.

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