Drop Your Tools and Retreat

I heard an account recently of the two worst forest fires in American history. They were described as “the worst” partly because of their scale and enormity, but mostly because of the unusually high number of fire fighter casualties that occurred.

 

In subsequent months, there was an investigation and research done into the cause of the high number of deaths. They discovered something very curious. At a critical point in the fire, the command was issued: “Drop your tools and retreat.” Apparently, this was a standard procedure that was only employed in very rare cases of uncontrollable fire. It was at this point where the majority of fire fighters lost their lives. Researches discovered that there were four main reasons why this critical command was not heeded to tragic results.

1. Poor reception of communication. The fire, at its height, was incredibly loud and made it difficult for some fighters to hear the command coming over their radios; and because this command was rarely issued, the fire fighters didn't assume that's what they heard through the static.

2. Poor practice of standard procedure. Some fire fighters conceivably heard the command, but hadn't practised that procedure since it was so rarely used; they chose to stick with what they knew - fighting fires – over what they were unfamiliar with - retreating - and lost their lives as a result.

3. Poor trust. A number of the crews were operating under new commanders who had held that position for three months or less. They hadn't been together long enough to develop a trusting relationship and were hesitant to believe or follow the instructions of their new leader.

4. Poor judgement. And then there were some others. They heard the command, they had practised that procedure, they were following seasoned leaders. These were fire fighters who had either been at their job for so long or were so committed to being defined as “fire fighter” that they chose rather to be dead heroes than live “cowards” who retreated in the face of fierce fire. An “over my dead body will I retreat” kind of attitude.

The presenter* who related this account used this story as an analogy as to why people tend to be resistant to change – even good change. He said either the reasons for change aren't understood, or people are afraid of change so they stick with what they know, they don't trust the instigator of change, or they've tied their identity too closely to the way they are currently doing things so that change of any sort is an affront to their personhood.

Ah, change. Lovely, lovely change. When I look at my life, I can see all four types of resistance to change:

I'm not quite sure I really am supposed to make this change – it doesn't make much sense.

I am afraid; I may not be the happiest person right where I am, but at least what I'm doing is familiar. Change is scary. I think I'll just stick with what I know.

This is just who I am and the way I've chosen to be; I don't want to change, or I think I can't change because I don't know any other way.

But it's that third reason that's giving me pause for thought. Who is my leader? Who's giving me the commands? Am I even listening to my leader? And do I trust enough to obey?

If I claim that it is God whom I follow, have I put in the effort to develop a trusting relationship? Have I practised the “standard procedures” outlined for me in God's handbook so that I'm comfortable obeying the rare and unusual commands God may issue? If I look back over our relationship, has God proven trustworthy? Have I got my radio tuned into God's frequency?

It makes me think of Abraham, sitting there nice and comfortable in Haran, wealthy, stable, secure, family all around. What more could a person want in life? Then God issues the command: Drop your tools and retreat. Except God doesn't bother telling him where to retreat to. (Nor does God really tell Abraham to drop his tools – he just packs them all up for the journey). Just leave. Go. Start. The way will be shown (Genesis 12). Do I trust that much, that I could start out without knowing where I will end up? Do I trust enough to drop my tools, the tools I have for so long used to protect myself, and retreat to the not-yet-seen place that God will show me?

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

and lean not on your own understanding.

In all your ways submit to him,

and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV

*The presenter was Dr. Anthony Muhummad, Ph.D.

Photo credit:  weadapt.org

 

Vanilla Smile

My vanilla smiled at me.

I was baking a cake the other day and my vanilla smiled at me.

I needed that smile. Not because I'm short on people who will smile at me, but because it was a friendly reminder to chill out, relax, find some humour in the everyday. Not that I necessarily took action in that direction immediately, but it was a reminder.

Too often, I get caught up in thoughts and feelings that tell me I'm not good enough, or not good, or just plain old not enough. Where do these thoughts and feelings come from, you may ask. From the one and only person who brings me a daily report on how I've fared during the day: myself, of course. “Well, today was not too bad, but you sure could have done XYZ better....” And then, not only do I cut myself down, I also feel guilty for cutting myself down, and I wouldn't actually want to admit to anyone how I'm thinking or feeling, because one doesn't want to display weakness or incompetence, so I push those feelings down and slam the trap door shut and hope they don't burst out. At least not at an inconvenient time.

Why do I do that to myself? And where, exactly, is that line between high and unreasonable expectations? Between having some kind of personal standards and imposing ridiculous pressure on oneself? And what if my unreasonable expectations and ridiculous pressure barely register on someone else's “regular” standards?

I don't know the answer to those questions, or I'd be in a better place by now.

I suspect, when it comes down to it, that those are unhelpful questions to be asking. They indicate, I suspect, a misplaced focus. I am reminded again of

2 Corinthians 12:9–10:

But [the Lord] said to me,

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses,

so that Christ's power may rest on me.

That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weakness,

in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I'm not quite to the “boasting and delighting in weakness” stage, but I did smile back at the vanilla, though it may have looked slightly more like a grimace than a smile.

Deal or No Deal?

I'm a bit of a sucker for free samples.

Which is why I ended up in a new high-end cosmetics store in the Brandon's Shopper's Mall last week.

I don't generally frequent stores like that, but it was the first store in view, coming in the side entrance as we did. And there was Almog, as she later introduced herself, silver tray in hand, standing at the wide entrance to her minimalist store.

I glanced at the individual serving cups on the tray holding tiny dollops of fine hand creme. When I looked up, she caught my eye.

“Would you like to try some?”

Well, how could I resist? My children all dutifully trailed me into the store where I was offered a sample of the lotion which apparently had “diamond dust” in it, a feature which intrigued the boys.

I had barely selected my little cup of lotion when Almog invited me deeper into her store where she could “show me something.”  It was a fancy 4-sided nail file to make my nails strong and shiny, which she demonstrated on one of my nails. I'm also a bit of a sucker for anything that vaguely hints of spa treatment.

And then she demonstrated on my 6-year-old daughter, who is also inclined in that direction (the boys refused the treatment), all the while promoting her products in her charmingly French-accented voice.

I knew the session was building up to a specific sales pitch, the promotion of the month: a set of lotion, nail file and other assorted oils – all for only $79.95 – but this included free refills for 2 years! Not only that, I could receive two kits for the price of one! When I told her I wasn't interested (due to the fact that I had two years earlier acquired a similar product involving a similar scheme, the evidence of which languishes unused in my closet), she moved over to her computer to “check” to see if she could offer me a more suitable deal. In fact, she could! I could buy the kit for only $39.95, free refills included!

I finished rubbing the diamond dust lotion into my hands, gracefully declined and exited the store.

Almog went to great lengths to lure me into her store and make a sale.  Not so unlike the offer God makes to His people in Isaiah 55:1-3:

Come, all you who are thirsty,

come to the waters,

and you who have no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without cost.

Why spend money on what is not bread,

and your labour on what does not satisfy?

Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,

and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

Give ear and come to me;

hear me, that your soul may live.

God does everything in his power to supply me with everything I need, setting the price at such an accessible rate. And yet how many of God's blessings are languishing unused in my closet? And why do I so often “gracefully decline” having my needs fulfilled? So often persist in going shopping at “stores” that specialize in false advertising, with vendors that exact exorbitant rates?

Pride, I suppose.

I feel I ought to be able to provide for myself. Or at least should be obliged to work hard to achieve the things I have, maintain some claim to my accomplishments.  And besides, that's where the infamous and nebulous "everyone else" shops.

So, I can buy into the lie that says I am obliged to foot the bill for all of life's provisions, or I can believe God who tells me he's already paid the bill and offers me abundant life just for the asking (John 10:10). You wouldn't think that deciding which deal to sign up for would be such a hard decision to make.

Coat Off My Back

Let's chalk that one up to a lesson learned. It was too expensive an experience otherwise.

It cost me money; it cost me my pride. It cost the very coat off my back.

A long time ago, like about 15 years ago, I bought a long, black wool dress coat. It was my first “major” purchase after getting my first professional job.  Yes, I bought it on sale, but it was good quality and I have used it every winter since.

Every year I get my coat dry cleaned at the end of the season and hang it in my closet to await the next winter.

Well...

Just over a week ago, I brought it in to a “certain” dry cleaner's in Portage to have my coat undergo its annual cleaning. I picked it up a few days later and hung it in my closet. As all of Canada knows, winter is not going away just because the calendar says it is Spring, so last Sunday, I hauled the coat out again to wear to church.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear but my winter coat with three-quarter length sleeves. I was not impressed. The kids asked if I was going to sue the cleaners. Well, no, but I was going to do something!

Which is exactly what I did yesterday after the kids' swimming lessons. I grabbed my coat and marched into that dry-cleaners ready to hear what the proprietor was going to offer to remedy the situation. I wasn't sure how much of a fuss he was going to put up.

I went in there and explained the situation. The proprietor claimed that this had never happened before in his shop.  "Look, look," he exclaimed, grabbing another coat off the rack.  "This is the same as yours," implying that it had not shrunk.  However, he could see for himself when I put on the coat that I was indeed telling the truth and not just trying to rip him off.

“Well, what would you like?” he asked. Ah, I had not planned on that. I had expected an offer. “Well, I'll need a new coat,” I said. I knew he wasn't about to pay for a new coat. Finally, I came up with a suggestion.

“Oh,” he kind of smirked, “but the the coat is 15 years old.” He grabbed some bills out of the till and shoved them at me. “How about this?” he said, his tone and actions shuffling me out the door. He wasn't eager to have this encounter take any longer than it already had. He had given me considerably less than I had suggested, but there I was shuffling out the door.

Of course, once I was in my vehicle and driving down the road, I started doing the math and realized he had barely given me more than I had paid to have the coat dry-cleaned. I was even more unimpressed. And I was angry – at him and at myself. Him for offering and getting away with so little, and me for accepting that, for not having come into the establishment with a clear expectation of how I wanted the problem solved, for not being assertive enough to at least stick to my original request.

So now there I was with a shrunken coat, barely enough money to pay for the meal I bought for my kids two minutes later, and severely injured pride. This was not the ending I had bargained for. Not that I really bargained – if I had it might have turned out better. I hoped at least there was some lesson in it for me.

I think there is. Number one, I need to have clearer expectations and number two, I need to carry through with my assertiveness. I started out fine but gave in too quickly. But I also think there was a larger lesson in it for me. There are times in life when I feel like I've gotten the short end of the stick, or like I'm floundering and moor-less with no one to help, sort of like how I felt standing at the counter in the dry-cleaner's, clutching the measly compensation in my hand. I wonder if that's when I need to take a good look again at my assertiveness in my prayer life. I have access to all the help and grace and wisdom I need; I only have to ask.  Have I?

Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence so that we may

receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

Hebrews 4:16

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously

to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.

But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts

is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord....”

James 1:5-7

So, if there's anyone out there who needs a really good 15-year-old wool coat with short sleeves, I've got one for sale for $500 - OBO! ;)

 

Saturday, Not Spent in Bed

Saturday morning.

I don't want to get out of bed. It's been a long, full week. My emotional energy has been about used up.

I want to stay under my warm covers.

But, no.

I'm off to help my husband's family with an annual, sometimes semi-annual family event. I'm not opposed to family events. This family event is one that I've had about a decade to get used to, one that benefits me and my family for weeks and months following.

I still don't want to get out of bed. Because no matter how many years I've had to get used to it, I still don't enjoy it.

I want to cry on my way over there. Just me and the kids. Husband's off doing something else today and has left me as the family representative at this event. I don't want to do this today. I have about a gazillion other things I'd rather do, even that need to be done. But no, I'll be butchering today instead.

And as I pull up to a stop sign on my way there, I'm zapped with an inconvenient insight: maybe this would be a great time to employ the “opposite action to change emotion” strategy.

This strategy, as its name suggests, is acting opposite to your emotional urge when that emotion either doesn't fit the facts or is not effective in the situation.

Not two days before I had proclaimed to my family that it was through this strategy that I had been able to be somewhat successful in stressful work situations: I could work through my fear by acting calm and peaceful, even when I didn't feel calm and peaceful.

Ah, but how about now? At work, I want to appear calm and competent, even when I don't feel that way. But butchering? I don't like butchering; I don't even want to like butchering; I don't even want to want to like butchering. But I have to do it anyway and showing up like the dark cloud I feel like and complaining my way through the day is not helpful or effective for anyone, including me.

My in-laws would have to report on how successful I was in this situation, but I did try to not verbalize how I felt about trying to disengage some vein from some muscle, or some ligament from some slimy joint. I did periodically remind myself to “relax the scowl from your forehead, lady” and “uncurl your lip, honey.” It is quite remarkable how even slight changes in one's facial expressions can alter one's emotional state.

And by the end of the day, I am thankful. It's hard to be grumpy and thankful at the same time. Yes, I am thankful that the deed is done for another year. But I am also thankful for my overflowing freezer. And I am thankful that my kids have an opportunity to learn about working together for the benefit of the group. And I am thankful that my kids are getting old enough to actually be a help in the process. And, okay, maybe I'm a little bit thankful for the opportunity to practice “opposite action to change emotion” because it demonstrates to me once again that I always have a choice, even in difficult or unappealing situations, to change myself and my attitude for the better.

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life,

to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires;

to be made new in the attitude of your minds;

and to put on the new self,

created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

Ephesians 4:22-24

Lessons Are Going Swimmingly

All my kids have started swimming lessons recently. The boys, who have both taken swimming lessons for several years, figure they're pretty smooth-moving in the water, even doubt the value of swimming lessons at this point, considering their expertise. For my daughter, on the other hand, this is her first experience with swimming lessons. She had been enrolled in swimming lessons last summer but spent those two weeks on the deck of the pool, nursing a broken arm acquired while brushing her teeth.

She has been enthused about her swimming lessons and loves her instructor, but has also been somewhat discomfited because, as she says, everyone else in her group already knows how to swim and she is the only one who doesn't – which actually appears to be true. I do my best to assure her that learning how to swim is the reason for swimming lessons and that each time she goes, she'll get braver and learn more.

I passed on a piece of advice to my daughter from my husband's aunt, who learned to swim at the age of 50. She said that the most important thing for learning to swim was learning to relax: to trust the instructor, and to trust the water to hold you up. My daughter, her arm slightly sore from clinging to the edge of the pool, seemed a little skeptical, but hopeful.

Her condition sounds familiar to me. For this past month, I have had periodic moments where I feel the pressure of my new situation creeping up and lying down on my chest, like a pool's worth of water pressing down on me. And the temptation to panic and thrash about rises; the temptation to give in to worry as a form of action falls within the grasp of my fingers.

But...

I decided at the beginning of this venture that I couldn't afford to give in to temptations like that or, like a drowning person, my fear and worry would not only be my own undoing, but also cause serious problems for those around me. There's that crazy, irrational thought that worrying about something makes me appear to be a better person because it proves “I care.” Which is about as helpful as a drowning person's clawing to climb up on the shoulders of their rescuer. It doesn't help. It not only doesn't help; it harms – thrashing about in the water and worrying both. The trick, oh, the complicated skill of relaxing and trusting your rescuer when you feel overwhelmed.

I guess that's why lessons are so important – they do help you move - and live - more smoothly...and they could save your life. So here's to my lesson in letting go of worry and trusting in my Instructor.

Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?

But seek first His kingdom and his righteousness,

and all these things will be given to you as well.

Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow....

Matthew 6:27, 33-34

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. How I Wonder if You're “Thar”?

“Hey,” called my eight-year-old son from the back of the van. “Did you know that some stars are so far away that by the time the light reaches you, the stars have already burned up?” He was paraphrasing from the Charlie Brown's Encyclopedia he was reading. I knew which book he was reading because that same boy left that same book in the bathroom the night before and I happened to peruse that same page.

I love those pieces of trivia that boggle the mind, that are so tricky to wrap your mind around.

How is it that I can really physically see something that really physically doesn't exist? And that by the time I could know it doesn't exist, neither would I?

It seems to me that the opposite is also true. That there are “things” that really exist that really can't be seen. Things work out “inexplicably.” Events come together to create a new reality that no one would have expected. Good arises from terrible. Just because the Source cannot be described physically does not mean it doesn't exist, in the same way that just because I can see a star does not mean that it does exist.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for

and certain of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:1