Forty-five

Today my wonderful husband turns forty-five!  And he gets to celebrate it by working an extra-long day at the office!  Woo-hoo!

Now me, I’d take the day off, go have lunch out somewhere nice, buy myself something new…but that’s not who Chris is.  He’s steady and sturdy.  Reliable.  Thorough.

Anyone who has been privileged enough to have their eyes examined by Chris knows the truth to those words.  Those who may be contemplating seeing him in the future:  A word of warning—bring a snack.  Not because of the usual doctor-waiting thing…just because he takes so dang long.  But by the time he’s done, he’ll tell you about the state of your eyes, your heart, and most of your other body organs too.  Thorough. Complete in every detail and carried out with care.

At home, he enjoys gardening, and each spring we can count on seed and plant magazines littering the home, pages dog-eared, as he contemplates different varieties of strawberries or tomatoes.  Then there is the decision of which company to buy from, who has the best deal, when they will ship it, do they have a coupon?  Each plant will then arrive and be individually tended to until it is of age to be transplanted into the garden, where it will receive Miracle-Gro and other special nutrients.  Thorough.  Extremely careful to include everything that is needed.

Chris recently said that God put us together for good reason.  He knew that I needed someone like Chris to weather the storm with me.  When I feel undone, altogether broken, unworthy, Chris is reliably there.  And not just there as a physical presence, although there is much to be said for his broad shoulders and strong arms that hold me and protect me.  His prayers lift me up, the scriptures and wise words from God strengthen me.  His willingness to learn how to meet me in my needs is humbling.  He asks to share my pain, wants to take on as much as he can, to lighten my load; because he has been created to be sturdy and steady, and most of all because he loves me just that much. Thorough.  Being so to the fullest extent or in the truest sense of the word.

Yes, we all joke about Chris and his thoroughness, but I am so very thankful that I have by my side such an amazing, steadfast, loving man.  I can’t help but love him more as I know him more.

The Invisible Girl

I went to the grocery yesterday morning, and as I walked into the entryway of Wal-Mart, there was a person huddled in the corner near the carts.  My eyes slid over the lump of person, backpack, cardboard sign; just as my days in Chicago had trained me to do, and I walked past to retrieve a cart for my shopping excursion.

But as I turned with my cart, eyes to the floor, watching so as to keep from running over toes, I noticed a puppy’s nose peeking out from between the feet of this person.  I immediately forgot all rules about not looking, and smiled at the little face.  The person said, “She’s friendly, she don’t bite.”  So I crouched down to pet her.  I asked the puppy’s name, but now I regrettably forget it.

As I continued to pet the puppy’s head, she laid it down on the floor, rolling her eyes back in exhaustion.  “She’s so sleepy!”  I said, and looked up at the person for the first time.  I was surprised to see that I had situated myself nearly nose-to-nose with a young girl, pink-cheeked, freckles, innocent-looking, certainly not someone who should be tramping about.  “We got caught in the rain,” she simply said.  I looked at her, really looked; backpack with bedroll, cardboard sign with one word, “WEST” and a peace sign written on it.  I expressed my apologies for them having gotten so wet, and she told me it happens sometimes, like it was no big deal to her.

We exchanged a few more words, and then I left to do my shopping.  She was gone when I came out of the store, but I can’t shake her from my head.

She seemed so fragile and small, yet so capable and full of endurance.  Everyone walking into the store ignored her like she was a pile of garbage, yet she willingly engaged me in conversation with a smile, and spoke without bitterness.

Today, I was riding in the car, and happened to look out the window and saw the same girl and dog, along with a male companion, walking down the sidewalk, just outside Snyder Park.  They had their backpacks piled high, a bag in one hand, their dog on a leash.  They were obviously on some journey together. 

I wonder where they are going, and what they think they will find.  I wonder why this journey is so important to them that they would endure such discomfort and hardships to achieve their goal.  I wonder if they will make it; I hope they do.

God himself is at rest.  And at the end of the journey we’ll surely rest with God.” –Hebrews 4:10

Heavenly Love

Why does God allow innocent people to suffer?  Why doesn’t He intervene when He has to power to?

So Adam and Eve are strolling in the garden, tempted by the serpent, choose to sin, and God doesn’t intervene.  He lets them make their sinful choice, even though their choice causes pain and death to others.

Cain gets mad, kills Abel, and God doesn’t intervene.  He lets Cain make his sinful choice—even though the choice causes pain and death to another.

As a matter of fact, God makes a habit out of NOT intervening when people make sinful choices, even when those choices hurt others and even cause death.

Jesus’ miracles—they’re not really interventions either.  He takes the results of sin and fixes it.

So where does the idea come from that gives a person the expectation that God will intervene and save?

I mean, why bother praying for the hurting if God has already determined to allow the results of sin to play out without intervention? 

Because there is intervention, it’s just after the fact.  He won’t be a puppet-master, so he won’t interfere with the choice, but He will cushion the blow after the choice has been made.  Adam and Even sinned, but God provided a way for reconciliation.  Cain killed Abel, but God provided a safe haven for him.  Abraham and Sarah usurped God’s plan for a son, and God cared for Ishmael.

The choices made, the choices of the “evil people” in the world, are allowed.  Because they are sons and daughters of God.  And they were given the choice to follow or rebel.  They chose rebellion, and their choices hurt other people, and their choices hurt God.  But God-given free-will doesn’t mean that He allows you to choose your own path only when it doesn’t hurt other people.  For some crazy, inexplicable reason, He has allowed us to choose our paths, hurt each other, hurt Him; and He won’t stop us because it’s our choice. 

When “evil people” hurt “innocent people”, God doesn’t only feel sadness for the injustice done to the innocent person.  The “evil” one is also His child, whom He loved and died for.  And as he counts the tears and feels the pain of the injured party, he also desires with all his Heart that His rebellious child will turn in repentance toward Him.

It’s not easy thinking this way.  I don’t want to expose the humanity of those who do evil, or God’s love for them.  I don’t want to love them.  I want to hate them for what they do.  I want to keep them at a distance from me.  I don’t want to think of them as babies with mothers who loved them or children who maybe had bad things happen to them.

Father, I know what You are telling me; I know that You want all people to be reconciled to You.  That if those who have hurt me would turn to You, ask for Your forgiveness and trust in Your Son, that you would lovingly embrace them.  And if they don’t, it will give You no pleasure, but great pain, to dispense justice to the rebellious.

In either case, forgiveness is through You, as is justice.

Father, pry my hands loose of the hate and feelings of injustice that I cling to.  Hold me close, so that I will hold tight only to You.  And keep me from the sin of pride, thinking that I am better than the “evil” ones; after all, I am the rebellious child too.

peaceful sleep

We had wretched thunderstorms this afternoon.  Winds and torrential rain…the forecast included the word “tornado”, which is not exactly comforting. 

I had laid down for a short nap and my cat, Binky, and puppy, Charlie, decided to join me.  With one curled against my back and the other against my stomach, we rested quite comfortably until the winds picked up and the rain began beating against the bedroom windows.  I woke, startled, but the two of them remained peacefully sleeping.  The thunder rolled, and their ears would turn, but their faces remained placid, their eyes closed.  Charlie continued to snore little puppy-snores, his mouth gaping.

I continued to lay there and watch them for awhile, enjoying their tranquility.  Eventually, much to their consternation, I disentangled myself.  As soon as I arose, Binky shot off to hide in the closet, and Charlie got up to follow me around.  Serenity was all gone.

It felt good to be the harbinger of peace.  Knowing that I was the reason that they felt so comfortable in the midst of a terrible storm made me feel satisfied.

I struggle with peaceful sleep myself, so when I see it, I want to grab it.  Recently, I’ve been trying to sleep without any type of medication or sleep aid.  It’s not easy for me.  I have nightmares, bad ones.  The storm is within me, beating me down.  I wake myself up, screaming and flailing.  I wake my husband up.  I say things that make no sense until he hears the context of the dream.  I shake and cry.  He puts his arms around me and holds me, but that is often not enough.  Sometimes, he has to shake me over and over, saying please, please; stop dreaming whatever you’re dreaming.

So it’s ironic to me that these two little animals find peaceful sleep at my side.  Why?  To them, I am their master.  I give them good things.  I feed them.  I give them affection.  I care for their needs.  Sometimes I do things that they don’t understand, things they hate (like clipping their nails or giving them pills).  But they still trust me implicitly.  They know me to be kind and loving.

If I could sleep snuggled next to my Master, could I be calm and quiet?  Isn’t that a real possibility?  Is He not all around me all the time?  I am tired of being tired.  I want to rest peacefully next to my Master just as my pets rest next to me.

Certainly, my Father has shown me unequivocally, that He gives me good things, that He loves me, that He cares for me.  Even though I don’t understand.  Yet, still I sleep fitfully.  I want Him to be my sleep-aid.

I don’t have answers.