Love You, Like You

The saying “Love you, like you” has made its way into my stash of favorites. I have no idea where it originated, but am so glad it did. I think one of our children spontaneously said it as a small child and it stuck. In our home, we tend to not always like each other but we always love each other. That brings me a lot of peace because sometimes family life is anything but peace-filled!

I have a dear friend with an autistic son who attends a special school. At the school the students and parents were asked to vote on t-shirt slogans to promote positivity and be a fundraiser. My friend voted the one with the slogan “I Love You & I Like You” and even ordered me one! I love it immeasurably. She doesn’t know the example she serves in my life. I wear that shirt with pride.

My mother in law once said that being liked is even more complimentary than being loved (paraphrased). I get what she means. We love our families and we like our friends. In this, we are basically saying “love” is commitment- not emotion led- but “like” is fun and endearing. Like anyone else I’d like to be liked too. Feelings aside, if you love someone, you might only like them sometimes. If considering just liking someone, then you either do or you don’t.

It’s the oddest thing to be disliked (and know it) but not know why. It used to bug me wondering why someone was frequently cold to me, but now, not so much. I realize I also like some people more and others not as much. Why? Who knows? It is just chemistry, or lack there of, or any thousand other reasons, I suppose.

God calls me to be like Jesus to love others as myself. I am relieved it’s okay to dislike. It is also relief to know I can still love others through my actions while disregarding my gut feelings. I guess what I’m trying to say is that liking or being liked is just pleasant- like icing on a cake. But when you’re loved AND liked, it’s the whole dessert.

The Waiting Game

I am naturally high strung and move at a fast pace through life. My father calls me Danika Patrick when he’s in the car with me. I don’t like wasted time nor wasted words and frequently “cut to the chase.” I even abhor when my TV system scrolls “please wait” across the screen. This makes me “Hurricane Katie,” I suppose. But I am beginning to realize there is great value in waiting.

My pastor preached last Sunday that the word Advent is derived from a Latin word meaning “to wait.” We are officially in Advent now and I feel I am being taught the value in waiting. I recently fell, accidentally slipping off my porch and injured my back. I had to wait three weeks to heal. It was agonizing but I learned major empathy for my older friends and their frequent falls. I also developed profound appreciation for a single moment without pain. Yes, waiting was good for me.

Try telling a two year old to wait for anything and you might witness a full on meltdown. I witnessed my goddaughter lie down in the service area at a bookstore after her parents told her she was going to have to wait to leave. It was hysterically funny and I imagined what it would be like if adults were allowed to conduct lie down protests? Can you imagine impatient coffee drinkers at Starbucks taking it to the floor over a latte??

We live in an age of instant satisfaction. I like quick results like anyone but is instant necessarily good for me? I am starting to wonder. I have learned that a lot gets accomplished while we wait. Important lessons and valuable training/equipping occur while we anticipate the future.

Patience is a learned choice, I believe. I am working on disciplining the little monster in me that beckons to cut corners and quicken outcomes. I’ve decided it’s a worthy pursuit to wait. It’s what develops and refines me. Instant coffee (yesterday) tastes bad anyway. I’d much prefer waiting in line for a craft coffee any day.

My Helper

It is impossible for that man to despair who remembers that his Helper is omnipotent.
Jeremy Taylor

Flower near Sea of Galilee

I cannot fathom existence without divine life support. It is overwhelming to manage the mundane, much less the fear of the what ifs and what might actually occur to go without.

One of my sons once quizzed me on my faith. He is in college and had recently taken a Comparative Religion course. Wanting to answer him honestly but not sound preachy, I took time formulating my answer. Finally, it came to me and I said, “Because I like it and it works for me.” I could tell he wanted to debate the subject but my simple explanation warranted none.

I understand everyone’s need to question and find their personal faith. I also understand it is everyone’s right to choose. As I once read, “God is a gentleman. He won’t impose Himself on anyone.” This is true. I just hate for people- especially my loved ones- to miss out on this marvelous, mystifying, meaningful power source.

Watching my children suffer, hurt, or struggle is particularly painful. While I can intercede with prayers and support, I cannot force or impose my faith onto them. It’s their free choice. Their quality of life and ability to dig deep down within is completely out of my control. I won’t stop praying for the Holy Spirit to disturb them some, however.

Meggido, Israel

Traveling to Israel recently, it stuck me how very simple Jesus’ message was. It has been man and our interpretation of His message that has created the complications of religion. So, I don’t talk about being “religious” but rather “spiritual.” People are created so complex and unique it’s no wonder there are so many ways to worship. I don’t judge anyone’s choice as God is a big boy and can handle meeting us all where we need Him.

To boil it all down, I was driving this week and was behind a car with a bumper sticker reading “If you have breath, speak LOVE.” I would like to practice more of that.

Via Dolorosa, Jerusalem

THE BEACH GLOBE

The sunrise hurt and I needed to get closer. Spying a jeweled dragonfly, a living brooch, I crept the boardwalk into my globe.  

Not a snow globe, but a sand globe, whirling with cawing seagulls and cliquish pelicans. A grey blur whizzed past my feet in the shallows and I stared into the viewmaster of the sea. I smelled memories in the air and felt the blanket of the heavy summer drape over my skin. I busily attempted nothing and actively saw everything.

My mind quietened and I motionlessly drew closer to my Creator.

 

 

 

 

EMPTY NEST

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Entering my office last week I noticed a circular mound of grass on the ground. Upon closer inspection, I eyed a spiral mass of dried flowers and feathers, a bird’s nest. Tiny beaks had laboriously sewn and molded a home for their young. Now it lie empty and abandoned. It was literally an empty nest. Mine, on the other hand, was anything but empty.  It was the BULGING NEST!

What is the correct term for an empty nest that isn’t ever empty? Once children graduate high school and leave for college the common phrase is that you have an “empty nest.” Our daughter has flown the coop but our three sons keep flying right back. I think they take turns coming home to ensure their father never lacks a playmate.  My husband weeps when they leave. He says I’d fuel the Greyhound goodbye if I could.  It’s not that I don’t love my family, it’s just that I enjoy the peace, cleanliness, and not having to do incessant chores.

Our home might never be empty because we have the fun house on the water. Maybe it’s because my husband will cook nearly anything for them. Maybe it’s because I will wash their laundry. I don’t know. But this summer, for example, I’d drive home from work to find at least one son and his friends lifting weights in our garage while blaring base for our neighbors’ enjoyment. Or, a crew would be headed to or from the boat on the river. Weekends ensured many of their friends also spent the night. Couches spawned bodies on Saturday mornings. Some were expected while others just spontaneously arrived.  For this reason, my husband started calling our house Motel 6. Yep, we’d leave the light on for you!

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Photo by Gratisography on Pexels.com

 

As much as I’d like less noise, privacy and a tidied home, I’ve been warned not to wish away all the flurry of activity. My older friends say I will one day miss it all. Borrowing a saying from my father in law, I counter, “it sure would be nice to miss” it. With fall semester beginning, my husband gets teary talking about our boys heading back to school. Me? I think I will be fine. I look forward to missing them.

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The Mom Mulligan

Blog post for all Mothers. Happy Mother’s Day!

Fourundertwo

person holding golf ball Photo by Jopwell x PGA on Pexels.com

The stranger’s name was Dexter. He was an older male, reserved, quiet and wary of others. I tried to be friendly but he seemed completely disinterested in any conversation.  At one point he even turned his back towards me to get his point across. Finally, I relented and left him alone. Dexter was an attractive, tie-wearing yorkie with missing teeth.

His owner, on the other hand was very chatty.  Like Dexter, he was an older gentleman that went everywhere with his tiny companion. I asked how he chose a yorkie and he said he didn’t, his wife had brought it home unannounced a long time ago. He went on to share she had died of cancer and now he and Dexter were as thick as thieves.  He got teary after I told him she was better off than us. He said she had…

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I’m Sorry. We Don’t Have Time to Be Nice.

The title of this comes from a story an author shared about herself in a Bible Study. She was mortified at her young child’s response to an elderly neighbor. The child reflected her concern for another while the mom did not. The mom wasn’t being mean, she just was in a hurry. What trait did she lack her daughter acted on? It was integrity. Why was it integrity and not hospitality? Because the daughter knew they needed to be somewhere and still cared enough about the relationship to explain.

Integrity is defined as being honest and having strong moral principles. I laughingly shared with someone recently about how years ago I read the simple statement, “You can tell a lot about someone by what they do with their shopping cart.” To this day, I cannot leave a cart somewhere random. A silly little statement has stuck with me. Am I acting ridiculous? Maybe, but I like to think I am doing the right thing. Why does it even matter to me? Because I believe a higher power is watching.

When I was married only a few years I decided to put a symbol on my car. It was the Christian sign of the fish. My husband asked me to please take it off. When I asked him why he said, “Because what if I get road rage? Then I’ll be a bad Christian example.” It’s funny he said that but he was spot on honest. Embarassingly, I often feel like the dog in the pic above if I get cut off in traffic or someone drives extra slow in the left lane. It’s human of me, but still something I have to keep in check. I don’t want to respond to that person’s behavior and get ugly. It’s so much more satisfying to end up right behind them at a red light and watch as they strain to appear busy and not notice me directly behind them. Just kidding! (Not really.)

Most people have no idea they are being rude and careless when they serve just themselves and ignore others. I’m not talking about the buffet line either. I’m talking about in all things. I’ve done it. We all have. It’s whenever we focus 100% on our wants/needs and ignore everyone else’s. Ironically, the outcome is usually not positive or rewarding anyway.

The news is chock full of people that have sold all their integrity for power and money. I recently read about a very wealthy, powerful man reduced to begging for leniency from a judge. He was no longer wealthy due to owing paybacks and certainly no longer on a power trip. But sadly, his integrity was already long gone. He was reaping what he sowed. What did that leave him to ponder in the dark at 3 a.m.? I’d prefer modest means, zero notoriety and personal peace myself.

The family name used to be a quick detection of someone’s character. Now, it’s a whole lot harder to figure someone’s true colors (or integrity.) I have always believed that my word needed to mean something. The Bible tells us that we should “let our no be no and our yes be yes.” I am assuming that’s because we shouldn’t need additional adjectives to prove our point if we are truly being honest. I also care about my reputation. I don’t care about it so people will like me, however. I’d rather be honest and hated than dishonest and loved. That way I can stand myself and tolerate my own existence.

Someone doesn’t have to look a certain way or be part of a certain pedigree or social class to have integrity. Some privileged people have the least. It’s either in you or it’s not. It can be taught but it’s within someone to choose it or not. I’d rather spend all my time with a person of integrity than someone without. You come away without all the questioning. It’s so much more rewarding and easier too.

The world offers prestige, fame and honor. It celebrates youth, success, pedigree and money. Somewhere along the way, all that has lost its luster for me. I’d rather just hang out with the authentically unique, the older, the wiser and the decidedly honest. I especially love a combo of any or all of these. These relationships are much more meaningful. I get to see a whole lot more integrity too. Who knows, maybe some of theirs will rub off on me.

NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION REDO

New year’s resolutions have always perplexed me. I understand why we make them but don’t understand how they seemed doomed and poorly adopted by most (including myself). Hearing about them on the radio, social media and in ads on TV, I’ve come to regard them mostly as holiday rebound. Pondering over mine for a week, I’ve gathered a few good ideas worth sharing.

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Melinda Gates has an original idea- not adopting a resolution- but focusing on a special WORD to center her thoughts and behaviors towards throughout the year. That’s a reasonable, and possibly attainable goal. A recent devotional challenged me to ask GOD what my resolution should be, rather than choose myself. I think that’s an excellent place to start. I dare not ask my family for input as I’d likely end up with a long list.

Our church has adopted the book of Proverbs from the Bible for us to study as a congregation for the new year. This has aided in getting my mind oriented towards a better ATTITUDE. Attitudes are the center of where our actions form so it’s also an excellent place to start.

Attending an event recently, I met an interesting person who discussed her PASSION and that she “couldn’t NOT do it” referring to her horse hobby. It got me to think about my passions and if those might need to be included in my resolutions? One did, but two seem in line. When I refer to “in line” I’m referring to God given passions. How does one know when it’s a God-given passion? It’s when it benefits you and others. Therefore, I realized one passion I have needs to go. (I’m not going to bore you here with details.)

What about CIRCUMSTANCES? Those may be beyond our control and quite taxing. When someone’s struggling, it’s nearly impossible to adopt new behaviors or set higher standards. So, going back to the second idea, asking the Great Creator above for input seems prudent. Resolutions are great ideals but don’t need to make us feel worse about ourselves if we fall short (and we ALL come up short).

Finally, there’s that “F” word- FORGIVENESS. It keeps popping up randomly. I’m wondering if I need to do that and/or if I will need to when I try to avoid my prior passion…..

George Bailey & Me

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“Why the heck does it have to be SO HARD?!?!” I wailed to God that Christmas Eve.

Once again, wanting a loving, Christmas Eve family experience, I attempted to force the concrete square through the circular opening and failed. We were all dressed up and driving into town to attend Christmas Eve services. The children were in their early teens by now. I thought surely we can do this! However, my anxiety was at a fever pitch and my tolerance was shot. Five minutes on the way into town, loud arguing was beginning in the back seat and I just couldn’t handle anymore fighting. So, I did what any rational parent would do. I turned the car around, drove myself back home, got out and told my husband to take them to church by himself. How kind of me. And that saint of a man did.

Back inside the house, I poured myself a huge eggnog and put on “Its a Wonderful Life” to distract myself. I fussed at God, “Why would you allow it be so hard if you know I am trying?” All of a sudden a near audible thought ran through my head, “The journey is worth it. I sent my Son into the world knowing He’d be rejected and crucified by man, but sent Him anyway bc His life on Earth mattered. Your journey is worth it too.” I nearly fell off the couch. This jolted my mindset just like George Bailey’s in the movie I was watching.

Ever since that moment I’ve quit expecting things to be easier. I realize it’s not about comfort or lack of conflict. This life is a gift with all the good, bad and ugly. It’s a process. But if God loves me enough to send His Son even though He knew we’d reject and crucify Him, I suppose I can handle some conflict and difficult circumstances myself. Praise the Lord for His infinite goodness where a worn out mama can belly ache to Him and He will answer our prayers- just like He did for George Bailey in the movie “Its a Wonderful Life.”

“Happy Advent!”

Recently, a woman greeted me with the statement, “Happy Advent!” I had never heard nor used that as a seasonal greeting before and therefore, decided to do some research.

Over two thousand years ago, our Roman counterparts observed Advent to celebrate the Second Coming of Christ. It wasn’t until the Middle Ages when Christians tied Advent to Jesus’ birth. It then involved the four Sundays leading up to Christmas in which all were to anticipate the birth of Christ culminating in the Nativity. In essence, we Christians were anticipating Christ’s birth and His Second Coming in the future via special services on each Sunday during the month of December.

Today, Advent seems practiced, but not completely understood. We light candles and recite scripture, but are we truly preparing our hearts for the reality of the birth of the Savior of mankind? I definitely need a staunch lesson in Advent. I hate to admit that I’ve missed the joy and reverence that reflect true belief.

While watching a Hallmark Christmas special recently with my husband (yes, he’s a patient man), I finally remarked, “Why is every one of these about some Christmas recital or pageant?” My husband said, “Because they can’t talk about Jesus so all they have are traditions.” It struck me that Christmas for many, like Hallmark, is just a tradition like the Fourth or July. How weird it seems to “go through the motions” when God’s Son’s birth is our entire reason!

I find myself in a flurry of activities this time of year with some invisible clock ticking away my inadequate abilities to perform. Yes, it’s December 7, and no, I don’t have a Christmas tree. I want one but just haven’t gotten to it yet. Does that mean anything in the grand scheme of what I claim I believe? Nope, it doesn’t. Keeping perspective during this season of Advent is an act of discipline that seems unnatural.

I love decorations, trees, Christmas music and baked desserts. Eggnog with some assistance from Evan isn’t horrible either, I might add. But what in the world am I doing all this for if it’s just a ritual and tradition without deeper meaning? I find I can become a green-bodied, yellow-eyed Grinch if I’m not careful. It’s like default mode to get caught up in the flurry of activities but miss the point entirely. If Christmas is truly the grandest birthday party, maybe I should change a tradition or two to include that belief?