Would Someone Please Stop This Treadmill?!

We knew it was coming all year long.  The dreaded 8th grade Community Service Project.  And now here it is, only one week of school left to go, and my darling daughter is still trying to get it done.  Is it just me, or do the last few weeks of the school year drive everyone bonkers?

First of all, why should the community service project be dreaded at all?  What's so bad about learning to do your part to help out in your community?  Nothing, actually.  In truth, I really love this project.  I think it's wonderful in that it teaches kids that they are needed and that they are never too young to pitch in somewhere, somehow.  It teaches them how to seek out opportunities for serving, and to maybe even get a little creative with it.  It promotes empathy and compassion, and hopefully cultivates a desire to give back and to help others.  No, nothing at all wrong with this project!

The problem, I hate to admit, starts right here at home.  We are so scheduled, maybe even over-scheduled, that it is really difficult and even somewhat stressful trying to fill the required 10 hours.  I was thinking the other day that it sure would be nice if the project could be stretched out over two of the 6-week grading periods instead of just one.  Then I had to catch myself.  Should it really be this hard to find 10 hours over the course of six whole weeks in which to help others?  I mean really, it feels kind of shameful.

I'm happy that my children have been involved in athletics, church activities, Bible studies, the Young Life ministry, and all the other things that they do.  They are all positive things which have helped them to grow and develop into wonderul young ladies. But I sometimes wonder if I have failed them as a mom by allowing them to keep their days booked to the point that it is difficult and stressful to fit in time for other worthwhile things, or those unexpected interruptions which often end up being the most meaningful moments of all.

I was just with a couple of girlfriends who were talking about the sense of entitlement that is prevalent among so many of today's young people.  What better way to combat that than teaching them the value of community service?  I don't want to send a message to my girls that doing our part to help our community should be low on the priority list, something to do only when it fits neatly into our jam-packed schedules, but sometimes I feel like we're on a treadmill that keeps getting faster.  How do I slow it down??

Hannah and her friend Genna conducting a food/supply drive at Kroger for victims of domestic & sexual violence.

Hot Water and Cold Reality

I squealed, loudly, as icy water invaded my scalp.  The hot water heater had gone out overnight, and by morning, the water was downright cold.  Shockingly cold, really, as it cascaded over my head and down my neck.  "This is terrible, not the way to start my day," I grumbled aloud while leaning over the tub.  I was much too wimpy to actually take a shower, and had decided to brave just a quick hair wash.

And quick it was!  I almost opted to forego the conditioner once I got through the shampooing, but then decided that attempting to brush out the tangles that were sure to result would be more painful than a couple more minutes of cold water.

As I finished up and began twisting my hair into a towel turban on top of my head, the photo attached to the top of the mirror caught my eye.  Sweet little Keily, the child my family sponsors through Compassion International, was smiling at me as always.  I keep her picture there so that I will see her and be reminded to pray for her daily.  But seeing her this time was different.  It was as if the sweet little face smiling back at me was saying "I sure would love to have that nice bathroom in my house.  How lucky you are to have that cold tap water!"

Isn't it amazing who and what God uses to prick our consciences?  To make us see just how spoiled we are, and how much we take for granted?  I mean, did I have to leave my house to hike for miles to the nearest filthy water hole to fill a bucket of dirty water to carry home on top of my head?  Nope, I was right in the comfort of my suburban American home, simply turning a faucet for all the clean water I needed.  And yet I grumbled because it was cold, which in itself is probably a luxury in places like Honduras where Keily lives.

Today I will be grateful for the luxuries in my life.  And I think I will find one of those organizations that builds wells for villages in third world countries to have clean water and send a donation.  One small gesture of appreciation for all the ways in which God has blessed me.  Might I challenge you to consider doing the same?

A Hokie Today

Sirens.  Lots of them, all day, unrelenting.  That's the first thing that enters my mind when I remember the events of April 16th, 2007.  The sirens and the unsettling, anxious feeling of knowing something terrible must be happening.  What was it?  Where?  Who?

I was sitting in my doctor's office hardly able to breathe for the sinus crud.  Then the news on the waiting room television really took my breath way.  "Would you please turn up the volume?" someone asked.  Then, more emphatically, "turn it up, turn it up!"  Frightening images of police officers wielding large weapons on the Virginia Tech campus, just a mile down the road.  Sketchy details of a shooting, and a shooter still on the loose.  Warnings for everyone on campus and in the town of Blacksburg to stay indoors.  Lockdowns for our children in their schools.

By late afternoon we all found ourselves in a state of shock.  Thirty-two innocent victims dead, others wounded, and a shooter who had taken his own life.  Unimaginable horror.  Here, in sleepy little Blacksburg.  Could this be real?

Today I will renew my prayers for the families and friends of those who died.  For those who were left injured and otherwise traumatized.  For the police and rescue personnel who will always carry with them horrible, unspeakable images.  For all of Virginia Tech and the town of Blacksburg.  And I think I will make an effort to leave a little trail of kindness around town today.  Like the person ahead of me in the Starbucks line did two days after "that day" five years ago, buying a gift card and leaving it with the cashier to treat others until the card ran out, just to show that there was still goodness in the world.  A small gesture with a big impact.

Today my daughters have donned their Hokie attire for Hokie Spirit day at school. My husband wore his Virginia Tech golf shirt to work. As for me, this die-hard Georgia Bulldog is sporting a Hokie t-shirt. None of us have any affiliation with the university other than the fact that we live in Blacksburg. And if you lived in Blacksburg on that horrific day five years ago, you will always be a little bit of a Hokie in your heart. You couldn't live here and not experience the heartache, the grief, the anger. We all have a story of "that day." We all still get a little anxious when we hear sirens that go on a little too long. We all knew...someone.  And by the grace of God, we all will prevail.

From Weary to Rest

Do people ever make you feel weary?  I mean, I can feel annoyed or angry or frustrated with people sometimes, but weary is different.  Weary is heavy.  Weary says "I don't know if I can do this anymore," or at the very least, "I really need a break." Sometimes, it borders on hopelessness. I guess that's why Jesus said "come to me, you who are weary and burdened..." (Matthew 11:28)  Weary and burdened go hand in hand, one dragging the other until they both collapse, exhausted.

There are all kinds of things that make us feel weary and burdened.  Work stress, illness, financial strain, busyness, you get the idea.  I'm sure we could add to this list all day long.  For me, today, it's people.
And somehow, that just feels awful.

When God gives me tough situations, I'm trying to learn to look for the lessons he wants to teach me through them.  Today, I think it's the next part of the verse, the dot-dot-dot that I left out above.  "Come to me, you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (italics added)  I believe he's telling me to stop fretting and commit these people to him.  There are some burdens I can't share or carry, and by trying, I will only become more weary.  And there are some people who just need to find their rock bottom, and they never will if allowed to hop from one weary person's shoulders to the next.

Instead of weariness, I think I will cling to thankfulness for the offer of rest.  It doesn't mean I will give up the praying or extending compassion, just the burden of worry and of trying to be the "fixer."  After all, there is only one Savior, and it's definitely not me.  We can all let out a big sigh of relief on that!

On the String of a Blue Balloon

The flowers were vibrant, but the girl with the personality to match wasn't there to enjoy them.  The high school choir sang beautifully, but the voice of the girl who should've had the solo was missing.  The blue balloons drifted and danced against fluffy, white clouds.  One strayed from the rest to go it's own way.  The girl's dad said she must have been carrying that one, going her own way, doing her own thing as always.  Tension was broken.  People laughed through their tears.  A final goodbye as the balloons disappeared from sight.

Oh dear girl, you were only 17.  So beautiful and talented.   So much to live for.  So loved.  What kept you from seeing that?  The children's rhyme says "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." It's so wrong.  Who made that up, anyway?  Broken bones heal.  Words that are cruel or thoughtless or bullying can inflict wounds that last a lifetime.  In your case, did they cut your lifetime short? 

I went to your memorial service needing to make sure your mom was surviving.  To give her a hug and maybe even try to shake her awake from what was feeling like a very bad nightmare.  You see, your mom and I go back a long way.  Roommates.  Work colleagues.  Double dates.  We even became moms within just few months of each other, thanks to you and my Kaelie.  It was fun the times we got to watch you girls play together, and then with your baby sister Julia and and Kaelie's baby sister Hannah.  Four little girls with so much promise, so much to look forward to.

Let me tell you how proud I was of your mom at that service.  I think you would be, too.  You should've heard the letter that she wrote and had the pastor's wife read.  It was beautiful, the way she described you, her precious girl.  She acknowledged your pain as well as her own.  But she did something else that to me was most extraordinary.   Instead of allowing herself the luxury of anger and bitterness toward anyone who may have inflicted those wounds that hurt you most, she extended grace.  She made it clear that no post, text, or tweet was responsible, nor could they have saved you or stopped you.  You, dear, determined child, are the only one who bore responsibility for your final action in this life, and so she let you bear it.  As your dad so eloquently put it in his own letter, you were a girl on fire, who felt things so deeply and so passionately.  But ultimately, it was that fire that consumed you.

Grace.  The unmerited favor of God that you chose at your baptism not so long ago.  The one thing that can give those who hurt you another chance to get it right.  The thing that encourages the rest of us to follow your pastor's advice to honor your memory by living better and loving better. The thing that I believe has so far kept your devastated family going because it has no doubt been showered on them through the loving acts and prayers of many, many people.  The one thing that enabled your mom and dad to give hugs, wipe tears from the faces of hurting teenagers, and offer comfort to everyone else, like me, who was breaking down around them.

Grace.  The one thing that I am certain allowed you, sweet girl, to be welcomed into the arms of Jesus even when, in your final act, you strayed from his plan and took matters into your own hands.  Grace that is leading you home, perhaps swinging freely, happily, on the string of a blue balloon.  Rest in peace, Jocelyn, forever in the arms of Grace.

Call Me Mrs. Wishy-Washy

In case you haven't noticed, it's election season folks.  Blah, blah, blah!  When I was a reporter I hated covering politics and elections.  Kind of ironic since I minored in political science, I guess the joke's on me!

The last few years, election time has been worse than ever.  I suppose it's in large part due to the social media age in which we now live.  For example, with a simple click I will send this into the blogosphere for anyone to read. And Facebook!  Oh my gosh, it's impossible to get away from it if you dare to scroll through your newsfeed. Some people like to post their every opinion on every subject and every candidate,  along with articles to support their opinions and bash the candidates they don't like.  I'm not saying it's necessarily a bad thing, as long as those same people are also willing to get involved in the process, write or call their representatives, and go to the polls on election day.  Oh yeah, and if they don't just assume that I share their views, or get angry with me if I don't.

The other day my daughter asked me if I was a democrat or republican.  I told her that I am a moderately conservative/liberal independent.  I honestly didn't know how else to describe myself.  Some might say that makes me wishy-washy.  Whatever.  It's just the only way I've been able to figure out how to go about the process.  It frustrates me when people who know me and know how much my Christian faith means to me just assume that I must be conservative and a rebublican.  On the flip side, it is just as frustrating when others assume that because I spent my career as a tv news reporter that I must be part of the "liberal media," and therefore a democrat.

Really?  Must we all have a label?  Isn't it possible that some of us do try to consider the issues and the candidates prayerfully and conscientiously, without being expected to jump on a party bandwagon?

And while I'm on this little rant, must we publicly bash other people for taking a stand for what they believe?  I'm going to go out on a limb here on behalf of Kirk Cameron, the actor who was asked a direct question on national television the other day and answered it.  He didn't ask to be asked about his stance on gay marraige, but when he was, he spoke his conscience.  He didn't launch a hate campaign against specific individuals or against anyone else who doesn't share his views.  He was simply drawn into the public discourse on the issue by an interviewer.  Now people who don't agree with him are trashing him and circulating petitions and doing everything they can to smear and discredit him.  No matter how we feel about this or any other issue, part of what makes our nation great is the freedom to have public discourse at all.  Shouldn't we be more about guarding and appreciating that freedom, rather than tearing down others who don't share our views?  Can't we be open-minded enough to at least listen to what others have to say?  Might we even pray and ask God to help us consider all sides of the issues and lead us in our conversations and decisions?  What are we so afraid of, anyway?

This election season, I resolve to just relax and pray my way through it.  I will try to live into what the apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans: "Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established.  The authorities that exist have been established by God." (Rom. 13:1-2)  Because I trust that God is sovereign,  no matter who is elected I will trust that that person is in office because God has ordained him or her to be there, and whether that person realizes it or not, he or she will be used by God to carry out HIS purposes.  God's Word gives me a much more solid foundation on which to stand than a party line every could.

A Monumental Day...NOT!

Yesterday I heard an elderly gentleman from my church remark that he couldn't believe how fast 2012 is already whizzing by, that we're already into the second week of February.  Then he looked at me with concern in his eyes and said "I think it's been a good while since I've talked to you.  How are you getting along?"

By the look on his face and tone of his voice, I knew he was referring to my "condition."  And that's when it dawned on me.  January had come and gone and I hadn't even realized it!  I mean, of course I knew January was over and we had moved full steam into February.  But it's the first time in the four years since receiving my diagnosis of multiple sclerosis on January 23rd that the date had slipped by without me even giving it a thought.  The date which was so monumental just four years ago had moved back to being a date on which I simply wished two special people in my life a happy birthday.

Ahh, God has been so faithful and good to me! Four years ago my life was turned upside down and I was left with a choice.  I could dwell on it and let my days be all about me and my circumstances, or I could learn to truly step outside of myself and ask God to show me each day how I might be of use to Him.  This blog chronicles many of those early days of my journey, and it's so amazing to me when I go back and read some of those posts to see and realize all that God has done in my life.

What I've learned is that our lives really aren't so much about us as they are about other people.  I have complete trust and faith that the best life is the one that will come after my time on this earth.  My days here are numbered just like everyone else's, but they are so much richer and more blessed when I commit them to the Lord for His purposes!

Does that mean every day is easy and wonderful?  Of course not.  Some of them downright stink.  But I know where to find my joy, and it's not in my circumstances.

That's why when my elderly friend asked me so sincerely how I was getting along, as realization of the date dawned on me I was able to respond with the same sincerity, "I'm great!.  Thanks for asking.  I'm really great!"

Praise God, the One who brings you through what He brings you to!