The things we hear

How has the past startled you? Have you looked at photos and wondered who you were? Heard a story from a different point of view that changed how you look at things?

I'm 18 years old. I've just spent three hours listening to someone I consider a friend. And Nora has told me how awful my family is: too snobby, too smart, too willful, we think we're too good for others, and our worst crime of all? We're willing to think and do things other families don't try. She says she likes the safety of limits, and she hates that we don't recognize those constraints or stay within them.

I tell Nora she's probably misunderstood us, wave goodbye, and go inside the house. Of course, I write it all down so I can think about it.

Nearly 40 years later, I find that journal entry. (Be careful what you tell a writer.) It's several pages long because the conversation went into great detail about our family's inadequacies. I winced - and shrugged - when I wrote it. And I winced - and shrugged - again when I read it yesterday. It made me sad in some parts and made me laugh aloud in others. The things our family loves - learning, tackling new things, and finding creative solutions - were the very things she resented and disliked in us.

People rarely say what they think to our faces, so then and now I pondered Nora's frank appraisal. I summed up the conversation as "pure poison without a point." But I internalized the fears I heard, Nora's worries of not being enough, of not trusting, and of wishing she was someone else.

I pulled back from her, of course. But I also saw others differently. Nora had named those in our circle in years of interactions that I didn't remember. I'd hurt them and they'd talked behind my back.

Who's talking about you behind your back? Does it influence your behavior? Do you care? There's often a grain of truth in we overhear about ourselves, no matter how strangely the "facts" are presented.

An interesting observation

Nora had a chip on her shoulder and deep insecurities. If others had confronted me, would I have been more serious about my surroundings and been kinder and more careful in my friendships? Probably. That might have meant being less open. Taking fewer risks in exploring what was possible. Not going as many places with as many people. I doubt that was possible, judging from who we all were back then.

As I read the rest of the diary, my shortcomings and imperfections are obvious. Compared to most of my peers, I was a wild-thinking teenager. Modern parents might put me on ADD meds. On the plus side, I was endlessly curious. I easily acquired languages and information. I didn't mind swimming a long way or jumping off cliffs into unknown waters (literally and figuratively. Remember Harrison Lake, you guys?) I might scream while my heart pounded in fear, but I'd try anything once if it wasn't immoral or illegal. I never intended harm even when I felt the least patient with others. (Going to college probably saved my mind.)

Do pacesetters and visionaries take this to heart?

I'm wondering about how we'd redo our lives. Are there things you would change? Do you have regrets about things you've done (or not done?)

Living in the past doesn't serve us. I long ago forgave Nora her attack. I hope she found security and recognizes her value as a person - just as she is, beyond comparison to others. We are who we are. If God is pleased with how he made us, shouldn't we be happy with ourselves?

In heading toward a new culture, reading my diary is helpful. We don't know the signals for caution or avoiding faux pas in Indonesia. We can only trust God, do our best, and ask friends to let us know when we miss the mark or overstep the boundaries.

"Lord have mercy," she says sincerely, shaking her head and closing the journal.

Read more:

*Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever. Give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 136:1, 26 ESV

*Put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your record? Psalm 56:8

*Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Luke 6:21 ESV 

*But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed. Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness. 2 Peter 3:10-11 ESV

Moravian Prayer: Heavenly Creator, many lives are filled with grief and sadness. Through your generous grace and lifting spirit, help dry the tears of those who weep and bring comfort and laughter to those who despair. Amen.

CS Lewis in Mere Christianity: And now we begin to see what it is that the New Testament is always talking about. It talks about Christians ‘being born again’; it talks about them ‘putting on Christ’; about Christ ‘being formed in us’; about our coming to ‘have the mind of Christ’.

Put right out of your head the idea that these are only fancy ways of saying that Christians are to read what Christ said and try to carry it out—as a man may read what Plato or Marx said and try to carry it out. They mean something much more than that. They mean that a real Person, Christ, here and now, in that very room where you are saying your prayers, is doing things to you. It is not a question of a good man who died two thousand years ago. It is a living Man, still as much a man as you, and still as much God as He was when He created the world, really coming and interfering with your very self; killing the old natural self in you and replacing it with the kind of self He has. At first, only for moments. Then for longer periods. Finally, if all goes well, turning you permanently into a different sort of thing; into a new little Christ, a being which, in its own small way, has the same kind of life as God; which shares in His power, joy, knowledge and eternity.

Reflections on regret

This morning I woke up regretting a decision. I awoke gasping at the lost opportunity (until reality set in.)

I did not attend a course. My name tag sat unused on a desk. Administrators had worked for nothing to set up my registration. I missed a class on spiritual formation, a topic that really interests me. And I didn't get to network with a great group of doctoral students.

Many of my best decisions come from impulsively showing up. And so it might have been with this one: I heard about the class Friday (it started the following Monday). I called to ask if I could attend and got permission, along with links to the syllabus and required reading. Ronda even got my student name ready.

But Monday I just couldn't do it. I'd helped pull together a reunion Saturday and gone to a 5-hour workshop Sunday. I facilitate a study on Tuesday evenings and babysit our granddaughter on Fridays. The class just wasn't calling me.

Until this morning, when I realized what I missed and what I could have learned from the prof and wonderful class members. "I could have squeezed it in," said my regretful self. "You need this information for teaching next summer. The Tuesday class was cancelled. Friday's not here yet."

The logical self replied, "Would I have had Monday and Wednesday for research, time needed to start on existing papers? I would have missed lunch with Julia. I needed to decompress after the weekend. Thursday I play piano at the hospital ... and Friday is coming, with or without Kinsey. And look how much time I would have had to take to catch up on reading."

I'm still bummed about missing the week. But here's how I'm facing my regrets:

1. Admit that I've missed a potential opportunity or messed up.
2. Recognize my limitations. We can't be everywhere and do every good thing. No. We really CAN'T!
3. Focus on what I have not what I don't have. This week's research has been very productive, if not creatively stimulating.
4. Make it right if there's transgression on my part. I put a busy administrator through needless work but I can email my appreciation and explain my absence. If I say something awful and hurt a friend, I can apologize and reconcile. I may miss an appointment but can reschedule.
5. Plan ahead to redo something I've missed. Or just let it go. Maybe this great chance didn't belong to me from the get-go.
6. Revel in God's daily presence in the here-and-now. He promises to use each day and every experience for good. We don't live perfectly. But God forgives us. He weaves life's beauty AND imperfections together for his pleasure and our good. 
7. I learn more about myself through the experience. I find I most regret what I don't do rather than what I jump into. While I dislike scheduled obligations, I revel in the surprises and unexpected joys of art workshops, idea exchanges, and mentoring. Since this life is finite, I need to embrace the ways it comes and goes.

How do you deal with regrets and missed opportunities?

Read more:
*For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. Ephesians 3:14-21 NIV

To bring in the new, discard the old

After our granddaughter came blinking into this world yesterday, her mommy continued to push. The doc encouraged her, "Keep pushing! You're almost done! You still have work to do." The doctor held a plastic sack ready, then examined the afterbirth for missing pieces and deposited it for disposal. Any pieces left behind rot and poison the mother once the job is done. No longer needed, the afterbirth, so vital to develop a baby, was thrown out without a glance from mother or father. 

Baby Kinsey moved into her mommy's arms without a thought for the crucial organ that had allowed her to develop. I'll write more on the pleasures of lovely Kinsey and her young family another day. 

But in morning devotions, God impressed on me the need likewise to let go of any womb that nurtures new existence, depending on God's timing and hard labor to bring about a new thing.

We become so attached to the warmth, the dark safety, and closed-in walls that feed and shape us. New ideas, new projects, and new character are forged in the protection and comfort of a hidden, quiet season. When incubation is done, we are thrust into the glare of a cold room filled with watchers or cheerleaders. Our lungs suck in the first painful breaths of dry air and we may wail in terror as we clear our airways and announce our arrival. What was precious and safe becomes toxic and unclean, whether it is a relationship, church tradition, or business agreement.

This morning, I talked with a woman whose husband left her a year ago. She sobbed throughout the conversation, "It's like he left me five minutes ago. I don't want to change. I still love him. He was my best friend, my soul mate." Though she's asking God for help, her hands are still clenched in fear and sorrow against the reality that she cannot control another person. She is being poisoned by the past, not yet willing to receive the beauty and new life God knows plans for her future.

As I drove away from our meeting, I asked myself, "What am I holding, desperately clutching, afraid that future will not live up to the past?" 

Read more:

*I will sing of the mercies of the LORD forever; with my mouth will I make known Your faithfulness to all generations. For I have said, “Mercy shall be built up forever; Your faithfulness You shall establish in the very heavens.”Psalm 89:1-2 NKJV 

*A Gentile woman who lived there came to him, pleading, 'Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David! For my daughter is possessed by a demon that torments her severely.'

But Jesus gave her no reply, not even a word. Then his disciples urged him to send her away. 'Tell her to go away,' they said. 'She is bothering us with all her begging.'

Then Jesus said to the woman, 'I was sent only to help God's lost sheep—the people of Israel.'

But she came and worshiped him, pleading again, 'Lord, help me!'

Jesus responded, 'It isn't right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.'

She replied, 'That's true, Lord, but even dogs are allowed to eat the scraps that fall beneath their masters' table.'

'Dear woman,' Jesus said to her, 'your faith is great. Your request is granted.' And her daughter was instantly healed. Matthew 15:22–28 NLT

*Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things. Philippians 4:8 NKJV