You Put Your Gum WHERE?!?

During my family's Easter dinner, my sister-in-law discovered there was not one, but two pieces of chewed gum stuck under the dining room chair upon which she was sitting.  We spent a moment or two blaming the children and speculating as to its origin.  I half-jokingly blamed an ex of mine.  Yeah, I'm goin' there.  Not an important question in the grand scheme of life, but really - how hard is it to properly dispose of gum you're done chewing?

This guy put gum in the most inopportune places.  I mean, I found it on furniture, on coasters, on bookshelves, on the interior of the car......and I it explained to me.  I realize maybe some people can't swallow their gum, or don't want to.  But how hard is it to make it to the nearest trash can, to put it on your plate, etc.?  To whomever stuck their gum under my parents' dining room chair...the kitchen is 10 shakes away and there's a trash can right there.  So I don't get it.  Hell, I've swallowed other people's gum before...in a tight spot.  Sheesh!

Making Music

Have you ever sang in a choir?  As I sat in church last night watching the conductor of our orchestra, I was mesmerized. It's because it reminded me of the experience of singing in a choir. 

When you sing in a choir, you should be exhausted afterward.  There's a lot of thinking going on as you keep one eye to the sheet music, one eye to the director, anticipating what's coming next, remembering oddities about the music, remembering where to breathe so as to not wind up breathing in the middle of a word, and so forth. 

To me, it's an amazing thing to experience.  Part of it is because I'm not one to let someone else be in control of me.  But in this case, it feels good because it's allowing me to be a part of creating something beautiful: music.  With one motion of the hand, or with raised eyebrows, or a look in the eye....you as a singer get the message they are trying to send: "louder" or "get ready - that tricky part is coming" or "nice job!"  You have to learn to trust the director, that they aren't going to cue you to sing on a rest or get loud when you're supposed to sing quietly.  Essentially, you do whatever they direct you to do, plus you bring your hours of rehearsal and preparation to the table. 

It's really like a master puppeteer scenario.  Sometimes I feel as if there is a tiny string between the director's finger and my ribs.  When they give that hand motion that you'd give someone to say "come on over - quickly - the coast is clear" I push out air from my diaphragm to follow the cue of singing louder, louder, until sometimes my body is trembling from the exertion of air.  But you're not just a puppet....you're a willing, prepared, talented participant.  You're there to perform the best you possibly can, and they are there to steer you and to push you. 

Singing in a choir also brings that rare experience of working together in utter cooperation and teamwork.  You want, more than anything, for those tenors to hit their harmony right.  You need the person next to you keep in time so as not to distract you.  You silently pray that the sopranos will hit that high note and when they do, the corners of your mouth pull into a smile because you're so proud to be a part of such a talented group of people, and because you're genuinely happy for the sopranos for nailing it, because you know how much they struggled in rehearsals with that measure. 

Why can't we live our lives like that?  Reflecting on all of this made me think about how we conduct ourselves in the workplace, but mostly about how we conduct ourselves as people.  In music (and in sports I would argue) we experience the things I described above....if we're doing it right.  But when's the last time you've really wanted to see your coworker succeed and not been secretly pleased to see them stumble?  When's the last time you've felt a part of something amazing that you could not have done by yourself?  Are you willing to follow the rules or guidelines while you trust the person in charge?  Are we assembled in the risers with one eye on God and one eye on His written word, doing our best to follow it to a "T"? 

Each of us brings a talent, a unique voice.  But when we're willing to join our voices with other amazing voices, to practice our parts, memorize the words, and take instruction from the director, our talents are amplified and multiplied into something far bigger than we are.

Affix Your Own Oxygen Mask Before Assisting Others

Anyone who has been on a plane has heard this bit of advice.  Recently, I've been reminded of this concept as a parent, friend, manager, and employee. 

I have reactive hypoglycemia and have to plan for - and treat - low blood sugar every few hours, every day.  After mowing the lawn on a warm afternoon last weekend, I found myself struggling to stay upright as I finished the last few rows of grass.  I knew exactly what was wrong, but I chose to press on (stubborn people can become downright belligerent with moderate hypoglycemia) and finish the task at hand (I'm a Type A list maker who derives pleasure from crossing things off said lists).  The mower made it to the driveway (not to the garage), and I made it inside the house, but not up to the kitchen where my glucose tablets live.  Then I'm shouting at my kids, asking them to run and get my glucose, something to drink, and a granola bar, as well as my blood sugar meter.  They've seen this a million times and have even seen me pass out several times, so they aren't too impressed by my dramatic entrance and desperate demands.  So at the same time I'm trying to articulate what I need and whip my kids into action (my daughter is wasting time by asking what kind of granola bar I'd prefer and whether she can have one too), I'm also trying to retain my consciousness while my head is swimming and my body is trembling. 

If I had just stopped mowing and taken a break to have a snack, I wouldn't have arrived in this moment of helplessness and panic.  And for as long as I was in a compromised state of health, I was unable to be much of a parent (or much of a lawnmower!).

In life, too, we must learn to recognize the signs our bodies and souls give us, signaling that we are fatigued, overdrawn, compromised, conflicted, or failing.  We need to spend time tending to ourselves.  Only then, when we are more full than empty, more fulfilled than in longing, more restful than weary...are we able to provide reliable support or guidance to other people, other causes.  Stretching ourselves too thin winds up serving no one.  Not well, anyways. 

Lopsided by Design

It’s really hard for me to let someone else pay my way without what I consider a “good reason,” like my birthday or because they are thanking me for something.  This makes dating me a slippery slope (on the rare occasion I find a man who can and will offer to pay for a night out), but I digress…  Why does it bother me so much?  I’m a generous person, and I love giving to others when I’m able.  I like picking up things that make me think of someone, I love surprising people with small kindnesses, sending notes, doing anonymous acts of kindness, etc.  Why is it difficult for me to accept favors and “gifts for no reason?” 

I guess it’s mostly because it makes me feel indebted to that person, and I hate that feeling.  I feel that I owe them, and I can’t let it go until I pay them back one way or another (either reimbursing, taking a turn paying their way, or at the very least a prompt thank you note).   Maybe I can’t stand having an imbalance of power.  Maybe I’m afraid I’ll forget to “make it right” if I don’t do it right away.  Maybe it’s because I was raised to be considerate and fair.  Maybe it’s because I’ve had friends who liked to keep score, so I learned that nothing was ever truly a gift unless there was a “good reason” for it.  Maybe it’s because I’ve dated people who said “put your money away – I’ve got this” and then invoiced me for my half, down to the dime.

I know there are those of us out there who appear to be very comfortable taking from others, so my reaction to receiving gifts is not universal.  “The LORD will open the heavens, the storehouse of his bounty, to send rain on your land in season and to bless all the work of your hands. You will lend to many nations but will borrow from none.” (Deuteronomy 28: 12).  I’m not a seminary student or theology scholar.  I’m not sure exactly what this verse means, to be honest with you.  Maybe we’re just being encouraged to give more than we take. 

The season of Lent gives me the opportunity to reflect on the ultimate example of “paying my way.”  You see, I believe that God paid the debt of my sins – those I’ve committed and all those I’ll commit in the future – by sacrificing his only son’s life.  For me.  It’s the biggest, most meaningful, most powerful gift I’ll ever receive, and there is nothing I can do to even attempt to repay it.  I have to just accept it.  It’s humbling.  It wasn’t done for me because I deserved it, and not because I earned it.   

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6: 23).  The key word in that verse, for me, is free.  I don’t have an address to send a thank you note.  Even a quid pro quo offering would be insufficient.  There’s nothing I can do to make myself feel better about receiving this gift.  It’s severely lopsided, and that’s by design.  It’s so far beyond my comprehension.  God believed I was worth it.  Period.  All I can do is spend my life trying to honor Him in my daily living.  I’ll fail each day.  But I’ll always continue to keep trying, to reflect, to learn, to stretch myself and grow.   And hopefully I'll always be humbled by this gift and my inability to pay it back.

Ask Me To Dance

“I finally asked you to dance on the last slow song “

I remember being a teenager, being at a dance, and spending far too much time and energy wishing a certain boy would ask me to dance.  When he did, I found myself wishing like hell he’d asked me earlier in the night so that we could have shared many more dances together.

Life’s like that a lot, and I’ve been both parties: the one leaning against the wall, waiting to be asked to dance, as well as the one working up the nerve to ask.  From where I stand right now, my message in both instances is don’t wait.  Don’t “waste the pretty” standing around hoping someone will notice you, realize your worth, love you the way you deserve to be loved, etc.  Likewise, when contemplating going after something you really want, don’t let fear hamper your timing.  Instead, imagine what it would feel like to get what it is you want….and imagine getting it sooner rather than at some hypothetical “right time.”

Of course I know this is easier said than done.  This is a message for me as much as anyone else.  But I do know this to be true: the chemistry of a good dance to a great song with the perfect partner is really something.  But when you know the lights are about to come up and this will be the last song played, it’s a little bittersweet knowing you could have been feeling that way all night and not just for that four minute song.   And by the way…I’m not really talking about dancing.

Allergic to Caterpillars, Not Butterflies

People always think I’m joking when I tell them I’m allergic to caterpillars.  Even those in the medical field respond with “Beg your pardon?” or “That’s a new one!”  The first thing in my life that I can recall is the day I learned I was allergic to caterpillars.  I was in preschool and we had discovered woolly caterpillars crawling all over a tree on the playground.  I was delighted and began to touch them, pick them up, and eventually let them crawl on my arms and legs.  The rest of the day involved extreme discomfort, hives, rashes, and itching that couldn’t be lessened by bathing or any sort of topical treatment.  To this day, when I see a caterpillar, I overreact a bit to make sure we don’t make contact with one another.

Interestingly, I don’t seem to be allergic to butterflies.  I haven’t spent a lot of time in contact with them, but I’ve certainly touched them, and I’ve had no allergic reaction.  It’s like once they’ve spent some time all wrapped up in their cocoons, sort of hibernating away from the rest of the world, and make that transformation into a new being, our interactions have completely different results.

I spent this winter in hibernation.  I wanted to hunker down with the comforts of home, close friends, and family, seeking solace in the simplest things, like cuddling on the couch and watching a movie or reading a book.  My cocoon was somewhat involuntary.  It was there to prevent aftershocks, rebounds, and additional instances of poor judgment in undeserving people.  Much like a child who’s been startled at someone jumping out of the darkness, I found myself carrying a metaphorical flashlight at all times, or avoiding the “dark” places altogether. 

I wasn’t done healing, the wounds were still seeping.  I was still flushing the toxicity from my system that came from the events I experienced last spring and summer.  I also didn’t want anyone looking for their missing parts in my junk yard, because I felt I had nothing I could bear to part with, needing each and every scrap for my own survival.  I fed myself spiritually and got on the path I'd danced around for so long, but never truly committed to in all the ways that I needed to. 

But now spring has come, in more ways than one.  Everything’s not resolved or forgotten, and there is still hurt that remains, promises that weren’t kept, and “let downs” of enormous proportions.  I'm still afraid.  And yet, after a season of rest and renewal, of self-protection and self-preservation, I think this may be my time to emerge from my cocoon.  I may look different than I did before.  After all, I am changed. 

So many new people and new opportunities have come into my life, and I want to explore them, relish them, allow them to lift me up and permit myself to give again – hopefully without being ripped off in every sense of the word.  I intend on spreading my wings and doing some flying as the Earth is reborn.  Time is so short.  Perhaps shorter than I can fathom.  And while a period of solitude is understandable (and cocoons are comfy), it is not a permanent solution.  It’s time to spend more time laughing than crying, time to do more celebrating and less mourning.  It’s time to dream, and dream big.  My cocoon has split due to my growth.  Here I am.  Let’s do this.

And one to grow on...

As I look back on this past year of my life, this is what I see:

• I lost someone who meant the world to me and who promised to love me forever.  Six weeks before our wedding date, he did some horrible things that stunned me and broke my heart as it has never been broken before.  I still haven't recovered completely and am not sure I ever will.
• I took on the difficult responsibility of becoming the sole custodian of my two children.
• I exhausted myself by adding a part-time job to my long list of responsibilities.
• I struggled with heath problems, had life-changing surgery, and am concerned about ongoing testing and diagnoses.
• I lost a friend to suicide.
• I've lost touch with some friends in my life.
• I'm spread too thin, running my kids to sports practices & games, music lessons, scout meetings, and church activities.

As I look back on this past year of my life, this is what I see:

• God intervened in my life and stopped me from making a big mistake.  I'm learning more and more about what I do and don't want in a partner. 
• I've been blessed to grow closer with my children than ever and to guide their lives in a positive direction.
• I was given a fabulous opportunity to earn additional income for my family and to meet some amazing women.
• I am healthier than ever, now that I've stopped smoking and have increased my physical exercise.  I have access to world-class health care facilities and physicians and have fantastic insurance coverage.
• I gained a new appreciation and value for my own life and realized that - as our preacher said today - "if I'm not dead, I'm not done".  God has a plan and a purpose for my life, even if I sometimes am tempted to quit on everyone around me.
• I've gained new friends that challenge me, inspire me, make me laugh, and encourage me to grow.
• My children are developing talents & interests they are passionate about, and I'm able to support their involvement.  I've also found a church I can call home for the first time in many years, and I look forward to attending worship and bible study there each week.

Both lists are true, and both are about me.  Attitude is everything.  I won't lie - sometimes hurt, pain, stress, and worry occupy my heart and mind.  But I try more and more to live on the other side of the coin, choosing to see the positive in my present circumstances, and inviting God to come in and fill those empty spaces, to soothe those worries, and to give peace when I don't understand. 

"Well, still...pretty good year." :)