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

The Practice of Giving Up

I first heard of Lent when I was about 10 years old.

My older, wiser, much more mature cousin who was 17 had been on a student exchange with a Catholic girl from Germany who practiced Lent by giving up chocolate. I had never heard of such a thing, but even at that young age, I could see that giving up chocolate for any period of time would be a sacrifice.

This information seeped into my subconscious and I recalled it years later when I was in Bible college. I had dutifully gained my “freshman fifteen,” as those extra pounds were referred to, during months of eating cafeteria food. This was pretty serious for me and I figured perhaps if I threw some religion at the problem, it might be easier for me to rid myself of my extra baggage.

So, during Lent, I gave up all desserts and chocolate. I stuck to my commitment and I did lose some weight and I did gain some insight into sacrifice. However, I also gained a stockpile of goodies for as soon as Lent was over: Easter chocolates my unit mates gave me, white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies and a huge piece of Black forest chocolate cake saved from supper trips to my roommate's house in town, treats from care packages from far-away family members. Good Friday came and I shoveled in chocolate and sweets with relish – until I was sick. And I thought that was about the dumbest way ever to celebrate Good Friday.

In the following years, I continued the practice of giving up something for Lent as a way to purposely consider what Christ had sacrificed in order to spend time on earth, including his ultimate sacrifice of life. I found this a helpful discipline and often a startling wake-up call to realize what a hold minor vices, like chocolate, had on me.

And then came the year when I gave up misery for Lent.

This was a life-changing experience for me. My husband and I had moved to a community in the States to work with Mennonite Central Committee. It was a community far from family, far from familiar, far from “comfortable” for me. It had grocery stores that stocked self-rising flour and cornmeal and grits and hominy, but not one small bag of bran could I find to make plain old bran muffins. The bank in town refused to cash perfectly good Canadian cheques. Community suppers consisted of soupbeans and cornbread instead of chili and buns. I had neighbours I hadn't met; I went to work at a job where it felt like there was nothing to do; and I was terrified of driving around curves where one wrong move would send you careening over the edge of a mountain. I was unhappy. No, I was miserable. I didn't see how I was going to survive the remaining 18 months of our term. I didn't see how I could give up chocolate for Lent under these circumstances.

So I decided to give up misery instead. Each day I purposely let go of my resistance to the reality in front of me. I made a point of not being bothered by the crazy people who tailgated me around curves in the road – they could either pass me or wait. And I prayed hard. And I searched for things to be thankful for. And my eyes were opened to the beauty around me, I learned to drive with ease, I met my neighbour during that time who became my good friend for the next four years, and I learned that I could control my mind – my mind didn't have to control me. It was astonishing and life-giving. I felt like God performed a miracle in my life.

And now – what? I have done the chocolate thing again some years, to greater or lesser effect. This year Lent snuck up on me while I wasn't looking and I had no plan in place. I was rather glad I hadn't decided to give up chocolate since Lent started early this year and includes such chocolatey events like Valentine's Day and two family birthdays! But somehow since my year of “Giving up Misery for Lent,” my Lent sacrifices have felt kind of flat; they haven't been life-changing or eye-opening. But is that the point of Lent? It seems to me that the focus of Lent should be on Christ, not on me. That whether I'm miserable or happy or somewhere in between, that it is Christ's sacrifice that makes my life worth living. That regardless of my feelings or my token sacrifices, it is my obedience to God that matters more.

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

to loose the chains of injustice

and untie the cords of the yoke,

to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry

and provide the poor wanderer with shelter -

when you see the naked, to clothe him,

and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

Then your light will break forth like the dawn

and your healing will quickly appear;

then your righteousness will go before you,

and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.

Isaiah 58:6-8

Lent is the season of preparation before Easter. It is a season of prayer, of service, of self-examination, of sacrifice and fasting. And I do think picking one particular thing to give up for a season is a good discipline and a helpful tool in refocusing. But perhaps it is just a small exercise to prepare for the greater “fasting” of daily self-sacrifice, of daily service, of daily commitment to following Christ and his teachings.

So whether I give up chocolate or internet or anxiety during this particular Lenten season or whether I forget until day 8 of Lent that maybe I should “fast” from something, and whether my fasting experience is life-changing or drudgery, it is considerably less important than whether each day I have my eyes open to the moving of God in this world and being moved by that same God to make this world a better place for others.

Maybe I should give up reading books for pleasure....

That would give me more time to pay attention to God's moving and to make this world a better place....

Ouch.

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways...

Today is Valentine's Day, and I've spent the week surrounded by hearts and glitter and counting, so this one's for my sweetheart...

This is us on our first Valentine's Day as a married couple.  

We look essentially the same as we did almost 15 years ago, right?!?

1. I am thankful for the ONE unique you. I am thankful that even after all these years together, I'm still learning new things about you and the more I know you, the more I love you.

2. I am thankful for your TWO eyes that see the world through a completely different perspective than mine do. I think we keep each other balanced and your perspective keeps me grounded and more open than I would be without you.

3. I am thankful for the THREE beautiful children we have created together. They are our grandest accomplishment together and I'm so glad we can parent them together.

4. I am thankful for the FOUR places we have lived in all our years together. I'm glad we have shared so many experiences in so many different places. We have been blessed in each of those places and we have grown together in each of those places. I anticipate being many more places together with you.

5. I am thankful that the love between two has grown into love between FIVE. I am glad that our home is a place of peace and comfort, security and love, and that you have made serious efforts to make that so.
   
   
6. I am thankful for the SIX Chinese geometric shapes that we know about.

7. I'm going to stop at SEVEN because seven is the number that connotes perfection and completeness and wholeness. Perfection might be a bit of a stretch for us, but together we make a complete relationship, a whole friendship. I am so thankful you choose me all those many years ago and that I had the good sense to pick you. Thank you for being in my life, for smoothing off my rough edges, for helping me to see things and think of things I likely wouldn't pay attention to without your pointing them out. Thank you for your commitment and loyalty, for filling in my gaps and covering for me when I need covering. Thank you for being my Valentine every day of the year.

“This is my lover, this is my friend.”

Song of Songs 5:16

Been Doing Some Rearranging

So, I missed last week's blog post – I was busy having my life rearranged.

In just over 30 hours, my life got sent down a path I couldn't have conceived of just days before and I was heading in a direction I hadn't even been considering. I was compelled to make a decision with dramatic repercussions in a very short amount of time, so suddenly it literally took my breath away. Me - making a snap decision! Me – for whom the physiology of my personality demands that my mind always take the longest and most circuitous path in processing thoughts and decisions! Time was both compressed and stretched last week.

But my experience last week also made me grateful – that I have a life to be rearranged; that I was offered this opportunity; that the need was laid so clearly before me that there was no confusion as to the act of service that was required; that I was available and qualified to fill the need;  for the astonishing, humbling support.

As overwhelming and sudden as this change of course has been, so has the grace given been sudden and overwhelming. I happened to be reading Ephesians when all this was transpiring and in it I found my aim in my new position, the power needed to accomplish it, and my hope for the whole endeavor.

My aim: “...live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be                                  completely gentle and humble; be patient, bearing with one      another in love.” Eph. 4:1-2

The power: “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know...[God's] incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead....” Eph. 1:18-20

My hope: “Now to [God] 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...forever and ever. Amen.” Eph. 3:20-21

Enough – abundant, sufficient grace.