Right where I need to be

Many times over the last several years, I've struggled with the concept of knowing what God's will is for me in a given situation.

I've wrestled with what the right choice is. I've made a choice and second-guessed myself all over the place. There have been times that I have asked for a sign from God - something only I would recognize - and although I've been taught that is a bad thing to do ("demonstrates a lack of faith") I've not felt any condemnation ... at least not from God. In fact, I'm pretty sure He was fine with Gideon's requests (where we get the term "putting out a fleece") because once Gideon was convinced that this was God ... there was no stopping him!

All that aside, I still fight uncertainty. 

And lately, I've been having yet another moral dilemma. I have spent a lot of money lately on my youngest daughter. A LOT. The money just disappears into this proverbial black hole and nothing comes out. She is starting a new life in another province and I have poured funds into helping her get on her feet: more funds in the last 3 months than some people make in a year. 

I have heard the nay-saying voices in my head. The voices that sound like they are speaking sense to me, tell me that I need to let go, let her sink or swim. But ... something inside rebelled against that.

I've sunk before. I know what it feels like. And I can't swim.

If I hadn't poured that money into that situation, the miracle that never would have happened here, happened way out there in Alberta. Without my input!! (Please see my last post, called "Outside the box".)

Image "Giving To The Poor" courtesy of
David Castillo Dominici
at www.freedigitalimages.net

Yet, the fact was that I had exhausted my tuition fund, and put myself in debt, to help her out and make sure she was safe.  I didn't know what else to do; I had spent so much money and now I was looking at spending even more for possible tuition for trade school for her. Then her landlady kicked her out - gave her 1 hour's notice and that was it. 

She was homeless. Living in her car.

I was desperate. The heavens - when I prayed (and I prayed a LOT about the financial situation) - were not saying anything.  So then I did something pretty drastic. I asked people for help. I created a fundraising (crowd-funding) website with donation buttons and the whole shebang. Promoted it on Facebook. Twitter.

Nothing. 

I put my heart out there and made myself vulnerable. I even begged for help; I humiliated myself for her sake. 

And .... nothing. 

Once I did that ... once I had opened myself to attack (i.e., yet further judgment) ... she got a job. A serving job at a fair-sized restaurant. And with renewed vigor she looked for an apartment. 

I took from that experience (and no, she still hasn't found an apartment; she is still living in her car) that God would have me open myself to people ... only to have me realize (as a lesson from Him) that people aren't my source. 

I say again: human beings aren't my source.

HE is.  All He wanted was for me to be desperate enough to make a fool of myself for love... and to realize that only He can meet my needs. And they are MY needs. I know that now.

And so, over the course of the next couple of days, I will be removing my fundraising campaign from the web, taking down my donation buttons, and packing up shop that way.  My support of my daughter is something that I choose to do ... for my own reasons, which don't need to be justified.

Just so you know.

Outside the Box

Okay, I would like to share with you today the story of a 21-year-old girl named Arielle. In June 2013, she left the safety and comfort of her parents' home (much like a prodigal but needing to make a new start as well) and traveled three thousand miles away to an unknown city that promised employment opportunities and a better life.

What she found was not as shining and sparkly as she had dreamed. She stayed in touch with her parents the whole time, through texting and sometimes calling. This was a lifeline for her, a way to stay connected.

For a while, she and her friend (NOT boyfriend) and his mother were living at the mom's ex's place. That is, until he got drunk and broke his son's nose and ordered the two young people out of his house. They got out and never looked back. They did find a job at a store, making barely enough to pay rent; their boss took pity on them and let them stay with her, for the amount they would have paid for an apartment. It was not a good idea; living in the boss' house made it so that she was privy to family secrets. She hated secrets. Pressure built at work as a co-worker made life a living hell for her. In spite of advice from her parents not to quit until she had another job lined up - she couldn't take it any more and quit her job, thinking she would be able to find another one soon enough. 

That didn't happen. Her money started running out. Her landlady (now her former boss) started looking for ways to kick her out.

In the middle of all of this, she met a wonderful young man named Tanner. This guy was fun, caring, and treated her with respect. They got to be very close, spending more and more time together. 

This past Tuesday (September 17) she picked him up from work and he said, "Let's go for a drive. I need to tell you something after we get outside the city and the traffic." He got her something to eat... and they went for a little drive. That's when he told her his story.

A guy at his work - Roy - had been speaking to him for quite some time. This fellow is a Christian ... but unlike any you'd ever expect to see - as if Christians have to always wear 3-piece suits or something (LOL - another topic for another time!) He looked like a biker dude, simply put. But he got Tanner's attention and started talking to him about God, sharing his own experience without any of the "you should" stuff. (That stuff turns people off like the PLAGUE). Tanner was listening. He was fascinated. He'd go to Roy's place and listen to him tell stories of what he'd experienced, hours upon hours sometimes.

And last Monday night, he'd been at Roy's place and suddenly, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change. There was an almost electric presence in the room; neither man spoke about it, but Tanner could feel gooseflesh rising on his skin, and he started to "get all emotional" but didn't break down or anything. And Roy reached over and touched him. "Do you feel that?" he asked. Tanner nodded. "That's God." 

Right then and there, Tanner had an experience with the Almighty One. He was shaking, crying, felt warm all over his body, and the two men just shared this amazing experience for ... well they didn't know how long.

The next day, at quitting time, Tanner's girlfriend Arielle (remember her?) picked him up from work because his car was in the shop. "I have to tell you something," he said. "But not here, let's get out of the city." He bought her some taquitos and a pop - and they set out for the countryside. He told her his story once they reached the outskirts ... as she drove. She felt goosebumps as well, hearing him tell about it. And a warmth spread over her shoulders and through her torso. 

There was a break in the conversation; they had been talking for over two hours. Tanner asked her to pull over - they were in the country so the area was pretty unpopulated - so he could take a leak. When he got out of the car and she locked the doors... she said to herself - or was it to God? - "I don't know if what I am feeling is me, whether I'm feeling Tanner's emotions or what this is... but if it's not, if it's something more, I need a sign."

IMMEDIATELY she began to sob, uncontrollably. She felt that same Presence that Tanner had told her about!! 

Photo "The Cross And The Hand" courtesy of |
njaj at www.freedigitalimages.net

In those moments, she KNEW it was real. She knew GOD was real. She knew that everything she'd ever been taught was REAL. God reached down into her life and pulled her out of her darkness and into His marvelous Light. 

When Tanner got into the car, he caught her (in her words) "bawling" her eyes out. He first checked to see if she was okay. When he had convinced himself that she was - he grinned and said, "It felt just like that for me too." 

They spent all night talking about God. And talking TO Him. Tanner shared his gospel of John with her; they started reading it together. 

Since that time, life has been transformed. They pray together. They read the book of John together because it's all they have of the Bible. She wants to get a Bible. They both want so badly to know Him more. And they want to grow in this new friendship with Jesus.

Arielle couldn't wait to call her mom and tell her that whole story, so she called this past Wednesday afternoon - saying this was too important to put in a text. "I used to be lonely all the time, Mom," she told her mother. "Now I'm not lonely any more. He saved me. It's like I have this friend with me who never leaves me." 

"Mom" has been praying for a good 10 years for her daughter to know that the gospel is true, ever since her daughter started to reject the god she had been brought up with at church. You know, the judgmental one, the one that is about rules and regulations. The one whose people are more concerned with how many swear words are in a film rather than the message it might contain to touch someone. 

"Mom" was literally dancing in happiness and gratitude, and she still is inside.

As you can probably tell, Mom's done a lot of growing in the last ten years too. 

I can vouch for that. Because that mother ... is me. And Arielle is my little girl. :'D

The winds of change

I've been going through a lot of changes in my life the last couple of years. 

My children are both at different stages of the very early phase of "doing the dance" of growing in independence and becoming self-sufficient. Sometimes there are setbacks, and other times, great strides. It's a learning process for all of us - not knowing when to step in and correct them ... or just let them figure it out for themselves. I've made some major mistakes in this department even in the last three months - to my own detriment -that I must now live with. It's a hard pill to swallow.

My husband retired in 2009, and suddenly he was making less per month than he made in 2 weeks under his old pre-retirement salary. That was a big adjustment for both of us to make!  Finances have been getting more and more tight. We've had to learn to live within our new means - and I must admit that this was much more of an adjustment for the children than for us, because most of the money we spent (and still spend) is for them or on their behalf. We had to forego many of the expenses they'd come to see as "normal" - just to put food on the table.

He's not getting any younger, either. That has been on my mind a LOT lately. I've seen him being worn down by all of this, and by the fact that he is unable to work to help support the family finances. He just turned 61. Studies have shown that people aged 65 and over are more likely to experience depression than any other age group. (Banich & Compton, 2011)  I'm being forced to consider possibilities I never wanted to consider before (thinking that if I did, I'd be making the unthinkable happen!) It scares the life out of me. It really does. I would be lying if I put on that brave front that a lot of believers call "speaking in faith." Truth be told, it's all I can do to stave off panic in this area.

The climate in my workplace has also changed, as I'm sure it has for so many people. The economic situation in our country is grim, and I know several people who have had to retire because of cutbacks ... people who are great at what they do. Seniority means nothing; the bottom line dictates who stays and who goes. Corporate memory has been reduced to a trickle, and the ones who are left are doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past without those (admittedly higher-paid) people to rely on for information on what's been tried and hasn't worked. Job security is non-existent. With that "sword of Damocles" hanging above our heads, and management trying to put a positive spin on what is ruining people's lives, making the ones who are left do the same work with fewer people (do more with less) morale is at an all-time low. I've been feeling particularly vulnerable lately, as I can see how there is likely to be a move toward paring down our numbers even more. We're already overworked as it is.

With an eventual forced retirement in mind, I started looking around for alternatives. I found an online university that lets you stay at your current job and get your Master's degree. I applied and was accepted into a Counseling Psychology program. My start date was September 2nd. So right now, I am deep into homework assignments, projects, reading, studying, and trying to juggle all that with home, church, and work. I barely have enough time to do what I like to do - which is what I'm doing now - so I have to carve out time for myself to do that. It's a sanity-saver.  :)

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud" courtesy of Sura Nuralpradid at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And then there are the changes at church. I know that comings and goings are all part of the ebb and flow of church life, but there is this one couple that has become very dear to my husband and me. Just recently, we found out that they were moving away, through circumstances beyond their control. It felt like someone reached in and ripped the hearts out of both of us. We've been experiencing wave upon wave of grief over this loss, and over the move which is slated to happen in stages as they transition into their new location. 

My body is changing. I'm in the final stages of menopause - and while I rejoice that "the curse" is finally over for the most part, there are other, more unpleasant physical changes that affect women at my age, not the least of which is a lessening in the skin's elasticity. (Yeah - that means wrinkles and sagging skin!) I'm trying to eat more healthily - which has increased my base energy level. However, the stresses I've mentioned deplete my sleep bank. There are the rare days when I have had to take a sick day just to sleep, because I just can't function otherwise. Sometimes I blame my age (i.e., menopause) ... but I am more inclined to think it's because of all the other changes added TO the menopause. The other day I caught my reflection in the mirror. "Who is that exhausted old woman?" I thought to myself.

Change - whether positive or negative - produces stress. It is inevitable of course, but it is still stressful. And while routine and security are increasingly important to me, I'm finding that I need to move outside my comfort zone and try new things. I have no choice ... if I want to keep from stagnating.

I take great comfort in the fact that God is constant. Faithful. Unchanging. Persistently passionate. And supremely dependable and available to talk to at any moment. 

There are lyrics to a verse and chorus from an old hymn which, lately, have been coming back to me more and more. 

       His oath, His covenant, His blood 
           support me in the whelming flood. 
       When all around my soul gives way,  
           He then is all my hope and stay.  
       On Christ the solid rock I stand; 
           All other ground is sinking sand... 
                         (Mote, Edward [(c) 1834] - emphasis mine.) 

This is the one constant, the only thing I can count on for sure.  It's like an anchor deep inside. If not for Him, I would surely lose my way and succumb to the relentlessness ravages of the winds of change. 

 
References:
Banich, M. & Compton, R. (2011). Cognitive Neuroscience [3rd edition]. 
      Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, Cengage Learning

Mote, Edward [(c) 1834]. The Solid Rock. Public Domain

Death, dying and living

Okay before I get going, I'm not going to talk about life after death today. I'm not going to talk about deathbed experiences or any of that stuff.  Maybe another day, but not today.

Instead, I'm going to talk about fear.

Before I got to know Jesus, I used to fear death. In a couple of senses I still do - that is, I fear the separation that it brings from loved ones and the ability of people left behind to cope with that loss (whether my death or the death of someone very close to me).  But as for death itself - thanks to my relationship with God - it holds very little terror for me, aside from that of the unknown. (After all, as a rule you only get to do it once; there are no do-overs, no second chances).

Dying, though, is a different matter. Dying is the process by which a person goes from being alive to being dead. For some, that happens in a moment of time. For others, it's a lengthy and usually quite painful experience. Since I don't know by which means I will make that transition, I do fear dying. I wonder if, should I need to undergo that painful and lengthy process, I will be able to withstand it. 

My human imagination can think of any number of ways I could pass from this world into the next. A car accident, an aneurysm, a heart attack, even a bullet during an attack - these are quick. They are unpleasant to think about - but they don't last long. On the other hand, I have seen enough human suffering to know that a lengthy illness, cancer, diabetes, or even dementia or Alzheimer's can take years of suffering to reach its ultimate end. Facing the idea of those possibilities is something that makes me quail. Never knowing when it will stop. Never knowing how quickly it will get worse. Putting my family through the stress of looking after me. These things can preoccupy me and cause me to experience an uneasiness at best and downright panic at worst. 

I take comfort in knowing that God - who loves me - will never leave or forsake me and will make a way for me to be able to bear whatever comes. 

By far the most pervading fear, though, is something that not many people talk about - largely because (I suspect) they either don't know it exists OR if they do know it exists, they don't want to admit that it does. It's the fear of living.

Yes. I experience it, and many people I have met seem to as well. 

I like the status quo. I like things predictable. Routine is big with me. I usually know on any given day what I will be doing and at what time. The danger with that is that life becomes an endless series of automaton-like moves in which my heart and mind are not engaged. It becomes comfortable. Safe. Uncomplicated. Predictable.

But is it living? 

I don't think so. It's surviving, perhaps even maintaining. However, when I compare that kind of life to the "abundant life" that Jesus promised to those who follow Him, I have to admit that it comes up short. 

Thanks to Suvro Datta for this photo,
"Lightning"
Source:  www.freedigitalphotos.net

Such a life is risky. It's dangerous to old routines, persistent and patriarchal ideas, and long-held beliefs about who really is in charge here. 

It's adventurous. 

And there is a large part of me that is terrified of living there. I may make little forays into that realm on occasion - but it has been many years since I lived consistently in that kingdom of believing big, trusting implicitly for everything, and heroically doing battle with giants (whether emotional, spiritual, financial, or physical obstacles) on a daily basis. 

I fear it. I hesitate. It requires a different kind of energy that is exhilarating and exhausting all in one, because it is not my power into which I must tap, but His. Every day. Every minute. Every second. 

More and more, though, I am convinced that it is the only place, the only lifestyle where I can truly realize (that is, achieve) the potential to which God has called me. 

Like death, like dying, truly LIVING is also not optional. Even if I'm scared. Even if it's hard. I guess that's why God has already provided everything we need. He has given us faith - trust - to live by.

If I don't live - really live - I am dead already. 

So maybe I need to, as the songwriter wrote, "pick up the mighty shield of faith, for the battle must be won; we know that Jesus Christ is risen, so the work's already done!" (Praise the Lord)