An Icy Find

It was a long day at the office and I just wanted a few minutes outdoors at the park – even if it was only 18 degrees. So, I drove to my snowy park, put on a hat and stepped outside my vehicle.

The cold air hit my face hard. “If I walk fast”, I told myself, “I’ll be fine”.

It was frigid, but it was do-able once I got moving. Pink and blue hues filled the sky and grateful tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. The craziness of the workday melted away. I lasted about 15 minutes before starting back toward my car. On the way, I looked over at the baseball dugout, my attention captured by the rock solid ice reflecting the sunset through the wire.Getting close to the fence would require trekking through six inches of snow on the path, but it looked worth the jaunt. It was.I pulled out my phone and took these wintery photos. Though I arrived at the park depleted, I was refreshed by the crisp air, beautiful sky and this icy find.    

Time – Everything and Nothing

The line of cubicles appeared as if nothing had been moved or worked in for months. They hadn’t. Several surrounding offices also displayed Valentine’s Day decorations from February 2020. Everywhere I looked, empty offices that hadn’t been habited in 11 months contained photographs, office supplies and even sweaters still hung on the back of chairs.

While the eerie scene at my new job reminded me of a SciFi thriller, nothing was stranger than the desk next to mine where the woman’s calendar remained laid on her desk, opened to March 2020. Her hand cream, space heater and half full bottle of water remained exactly as they were nearly a year earlier. Like most of the company employees, she now worked from home with no intentions of returning.

I found it very curious why the permanently remote employees wouldn’t have come back to the office to collect their personal belongings. Just as I determined to clean up that desk next to me, the woman showed up one day! I was excited at the prospect that maybe there would be another human in the beautiful but empty building but that was a short-lived hope. She explained how she hadn’t been there in nearly a year, came in for a brief meeting, and let me know she would not be returning. Well, at least she could finally get her stuff.

As she put on her coat, I didn’t feel comfortable asking but seriously wondered why she wasn’t at least taking her hand cream with her. Or why she wasn’t throwing out the food in her drawers that was likely stale or worse. We merely exchanged pleasantries and she reaffirmed that she would not be returning.

A few days later, the orderly gal that I am could no longer walk by that desk without cleaning it. I put away her personal belongings and notified management that they might want to address the food in the drawers. Order was restored.

Weird, right?

A few days later, I looked at the cleared desk next to me and still saw that calendar in my mind, opened to March 2020. Flipping my own devotional calendar page to February 12^th, I was once again stunned by the speed of time. Some people are still enjoying their outdoor Christmas lights but the reality is that lent starts this week.

It’s been a whirlwind month, starting a new job, hosting my daughter’s (serious) boyfriend from 1500 miles away, game nights with the kids, teaching Sunday School and lots of cooking and cleaning up. Blessings have abounded these last five weeks but I need some quiet time where life slows. Don’t we all?

Staring at my February 12^th devotion, time and numbers started occupying my mind. Other than collapsing in bed for six hours a night, I hadn’t rested. Where do we fit in rest between work, ministry and serving others? I’m still trying to do everything I did with my 32-hour work week in the old job, with my 47-hour work week in the new job.

Listening to my brother-in-law wonder out loud about what will happen now that oncologists have run out of options for him, time and numbers again filled my thoughts…

• That book I started in December has just one more chapter waiting for me to finish…
• Door to door commute and work hours tally around 50…At 20 I would have been okay with that. At half a century, I have other interests.
• The new work project has 950 lines of Excel that require a minimum of 20 minutes per line
• My eyes raise to the circle clock on the office wall and I fixate on the second hand…the sound of the tick, tick, tick suddenly seems louder…
• My precious bonus child texts that the baby has arrived, 7lbs…my eyes tear with joy, then with sadness that her Mom and my friend has been gone nearly 5 years…
• My counterpart announces the number of walking steps on her watch…
• I think of the 40 WordPress posts I’ve missed…written by wonderful people who I enjoy so very much…

We count everything. We also measure and size…Our weight. Her weight. His height. Her hair length. His car. Their score, salary, square footage…

My brother-in-law has never been concerned with such things and more than ever could care less about anything worldly. His thoughts have become other-worldly. He speaks often of the Lord. His somberness makes me reevaluate…

It’s February of 2021. Yes, we need to earn a living but we also need to live. How much is enough? Does living on less-than necessarily equal a less-than life? I think of those folks who downsized giant homes, quit good jobs, made former hobbies their current living – at less salary but more joy.

Countless novelists and song writers have centered their work upon time.

Time is fleeting but can feel slow…hours in a boring job, 2am blood pressure checks when you’re hospitalized – praying endlessly to just. Go. Home.

Whether we’re waiting for Covid to pass or the promotion to arrive or the child to outgrow the terrible twos…we must caution ourselves not to wish those seconds away. I’ve certainly been guilty of it. While God operates outside of time, we stare at it. On our phone, wrist, the wall…we are excited in November when we gain an hour and grumble in March when we lose it again.

As is with most of life, balance seems to be one solution to our modern-day time-obsession. Balance work with play. Balance activity with rest. Sometimes doing nothing isn’t wasted time. It’s just refreshment for what’s next. I’m taking my own advice.

On this Valentine’s Day, my belly is full of delicious food my husband made. My kids are with their significant others and I’ve rested much of the afternoon. Sure, there were many tasks post-church that could have been done, but spending time reading, writing and watching a Hallmark movie were necessary before embarking upon the demanding week ahead.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

An “Old Soul”

psychologies.co.uk

My daughter was in the 8th grade when someone had first referred to her as an “old soul”. It was her social studies teacher who was also an assistant coach of her field hockey team. I stood in the parent-teacher conference slightly annoyed at his remark.

About a month later, someone else made the same comment.

The word “old” was not fitting for a vibrant, beautiful young teenager with long hair and a terrific laugh. A strong athlete with a quick-wit was anything but “old”.

The word “soul”? Well, that word was right on.

I was viewing the word “old” negatively as if these adults were making her less-than. Really what they were trying to do was locate a word to describe a teenager who was anything but typical. The teachers in particular always wanted to share stories with me about how my youngest not only befriended the special needs students but went out of her way to check in with them daily, saying “hello” and “how are you?” that perhaps meant more to the observant teachers than the children.

On the last day of eighth grade, she emerged from the traditional end-of-year award ceremonies empty-handed. “Mama, what I’m good at is not valued at school. It’s not graded.” I nearly died from heartbreak in the school hallway. Her eyes were quizzical as she too attempted to locate words to describe herself.

galalitescreens.com

It was a curious mix back in her youth: a sweet, gentle spirit who would be readily labeled very friendly but not boisterous, on the quiet-side, but also spoke up loudly when another was being belittled or ridiculed. Athletic and captain of her teams, she demonstrated tremendous ability to lead but sat back in group settings, allowing others to be “first”. I suppose the only term that came to the teachers’ minds was “old soul”.

This memory recently came back to me and so I researched a few minutes regarding what the term ‘old soul’ means. There were a wide array of contradicting definitions. Most didn’t resemble my child at all. However, one repetitive noun was “empath”. “An empath is someone who understands the mental or emotional states of others in a way that defies conventional science and psychology. Empaths have the ability to sense the feelings, the thoughts of people.” (Urban Dictionary) Essentially, feeling and thus expressing far more empathy than a normal human.  When my youngest was 12 years young, she learned of the diagnosis of a 5-year old boy with terminal cancer. We did not know this family personally but were praying for the boy. I watched my daughter pray, carefully follow his treatment over the few short months he had remaining on this side of heaven, and observed her emotional collapse when he left to be with the Lord. As she lay crying on the couch, she choked through her tears to me, “I don’t want you thinking I’m crying for my own sadness. I’m devastated for the parents…they will never get over this.” She was 12.

My baby girl is now a senior at a university she loves and thrives at. She’s known and loved by her friend group, has a wonderful boyfriend and professors gush over her public speaking skills. If you met her today, your first thought would definitely not be “public speaker” but the moment she takes the front of the room, she brings it to life and commands attention. She’s gentle in spirit, she listens when you speak-regardless of how important you may or may not be in the world-and she loves Jesus. She sees people in a world where most of us are sincerely invisible.

While finishing the decorating of my daughter’s room in her new apartment at school, I was frustrated because the little sunflower lights weren’t yet exactly how I wanted them. I was likely huffing and adjusting them when my youngest’s hand suddenly appeared, and laid ever so gently upon mine. I looked up from my crouched position on the floor at her smiling face. With her hand gently tapping mine she very softly said, “patience my little grasshopper”. I laughed out loud at her adaptation of the famous quote, which was far sweeter with “my little”.

Most actual definitions of old soul don’t fit my daughter, but the few consistent attributes of an empath were reminders for me. While this little jaunt down memory lane turned into a Mom-post, God used the fleeting memory and my quick internet searches to draw attention to the desensitization I’ve been experiencing lately. Normally a highly empathetic person myself, I realized that reviewing nearly 40 cases highlighting man’s worst depravities (see previous post/I’ve been serving on a grand jury for several weeks), my initial disgust has transitioned into desensitivity. We’ve been told that we’ve seen more horrific cases than many juries in past years. The fallout from the presidential election and the claims from those who “say that evil is good and good is evil; that dark is light and that light is dark” (Isaiah 5:20) has additionally increased my guardedness. This is not good when I’m usually quite approachable.

How good it will be to have a day this week purely devoted to gratitude, family, games and delicious food. The timing of Thanksgiving amidst the serious unrest across our Covid-globe and in our hearts…my heart…is much-needed. Perhaps I’m not alone in recognizing the need for renewing empathy and being more sensitive toward others. 

image above: studywithfriends.org/wp-content/uploads(fruit of the spirit image)

 

 

Silent Sunday – Flag Day

Empty and Barren. Full and Bountiful.

During a recent walk at the park, I stopped to stare at these trees, contemplating how the two different trees reflect people’s lives. Or, at least resemble differing seasons in their lives.

One person can be the empty, impoverished, stark tree – yet, they work, travel, parent and operate in the world alongside other trees whose lives are abounding in growth, bursting with color and fullness. Sometimes we are the depleted, defeated one…other times, we are full, complete, abundantly blessed.

Why do some lives flourish more than others? 

Similar to the photo below, I also considered how siblings on the same original “branch” veer off as twigs in different directions – one blossoming and succeeding, the other empty and dry.

While God is Sovereign and guides our lives, He gives us enough free will to create or destroy-grow or become stagnant-give up or persevere. Yet, there are those who devote just as much positive effort as the next person but hit concrete walls at every turn. Their circumstances are real and it’s discouraging.

I was standing at my kitchen island last week, across from a beloved person in my life. Our relationship is a curious one as he is the husband of my oldest step-sister. I refer to him as my brother-in-law, because he feels more like family than my blood relatives. He and my husband have become deep friends over the years, bonding over muscle cars (which someday I’ll have to post on this site). He loves to talk, is very relational and covers a variety of topics, including politics. We all love him.

He is battling serious cancer and yet, refuses to bemoan his circumstances. He’s not in denial but he is unlike anyone I’ve ever seen walk through this. He chooses to redirect his thoughts away from the non-stop challenges including his limp, pain, inability to taste or even eat much. I can’t adequately convey the heart-wrenching injustice of this homicidal disease. It rips the person’s dignity away when they are the most vulnerable… they want to be seen as whole when all people see are the physical signs of their illness.

As we caught up on each other’s week, my three 20-something kids gathered around the kitchen island with us. They began bantering with me, pulling food out, asking him questions, and then began a series of everyday, regular chit chat with each other. I looked over at my brother-in-law and saw his eyes following the kids. His eyes spoke before his words emerged, he again reminding me how blessed I am to have these three. Reminding me that our parenting challenges over the years were really nothing. Years ago, I might have thought catching one of them in a lie was Armageddon (strong indicator of how I am as a Mom), but looking back, my parenting-teen troubles were indeed little ones.

His only son has been battling addiction since he was a young teenager. He’s 30. Legal fees drained their savings more times than I can recall. My brother-in-law speaks more openly now than ever before, and I have glimpsed their parental sufferings in new ways. They too set out to be strong parents, worked hard to give their child a positive life and my heart is broken for their plagued family history. Through this barren land they have walked, they have built treasures in heaven. Despite their own parenting difficulties, they took in three different adolescent children over the years when the biological parents had issues. There was sacrifice involved that made my husband and I admire them. They gave up their own comfort to bless others – even those who may never appreciate the level of sacrifice to their daily life, marriage and finances. 

We used to flip pages of magazines once a month and wonder why the glossy good fortune, perfect genetics and posh vacations laid before us couldn’t be ours. We had 30 days in between deliveries to get over ourselves. Now, we scroll. Hourly for some. Every 2 minutes for most. Social media makes it easy to assume that others’ trees are flourishing while ours are not. People tend to indulge in the ‘what if’s’ or ‘if only’s’ as they scroll. For those of us at mid-life and beyond, we are better at laughing now than coveting. We’ve been through some life and know the reality vs. the fantasy. Most importantly, we trust that the depleting times are usually followed by new abundance. Perhaps not in the same ways we were previously accustomed to abundance, but blessed nonetheless.

If we are going through an empty, stark, unproductive or sad season, let us persevere as best we can in our weakened state-allowing God to be our strength. If we are presently experiencing ease, comfort and few worries, let’s count ourselves deeply blessed to possess a free, uncluttered mind for as long as it may last.