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The Protective Bubble

There are three verses that when connected create what I call a protective bubble –

Jeremiah 29:11  For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. 

What this verse doesn’t say is, I’m going to tell you the plans I have for you. God has a plan for each of us but unlike He did for Noah, He doesn’t tell most of us. Imagine if God did. What would be your first impulse? To tell someone? To argue with Him? To try to change His mind? I’m thinking all three. 

Isaiah 54:17: “No weapon that is formed against you will prosper; And every tongue that accuses you in judgment you will condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, And their vindication is from Me,” declares the Lord.

It doesn’t say “no weapon will be formed against me or no tongue will ever accuse me”. We can be certain that both weapons and words will attack at some time in life. Shit happens. The promise is that neither will prosper. It’s not easy to remember when you’re in the middle of it; beginning, middle or end – it doesn’t matter where you are in “my world is falling apart” mode. It’s not easy to grasp. However, once grasped this promise defines contentment.

Romans 8:28  And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.

My old theology would have taken these three verses to mean that nothing bad will ever happen, life will be one big party – I will get whatever I want – it’s all good! That’s bad theology! 

The protective bubble is this: God has plans for me, I need to trust Him. Bad things are going to happen. Weapons and accusations will cross my path, shit will most definitely happen – but it won’t last. God will redeem it all and work it out for my good. 

On a more personal scale, this bubble of protections says this: You can’t screw up my life! You can interrupt it, make it a bit uncomfortable but in the end if I remain true to this belief it’s all going to work out in my favor. 

For anyone who has experienced abuse in their life this is an inconceivable concept.  I think that even in the worst of cases this bubble of protection holds true. Because of God’s great love, He will not let the abuser prosper; He will weave every experience into the tapestry that is your life and will at the end make it all good. He still has plans for you. It isn’t out of His neglect that abuse happens, it’s out of His love that He redeems it.

Past, present and future, it’s all covered. It’s a guarantee for those called according to His purpose – oh crap, what’s His purpose?  Oh yes I remember,  to love the Lord my God with all my heart, and with all my soul, and with all my mind, and with all your strength and to love my neighbor as myself.

It’s a lovely bubble!

 

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From the Second Pew

I’m a preacher’s kid. It’s taken me many years to be able to admit that, I don’t need to spend  time analyzing why I’m not very proud of this title. That’s very clear to me. I’m often embarrassed by those who speak up in the name of God and the church. Saying I’m a kid of a preacher makes my association much closer than I would like. Six or seven degrees of separation from the modern church would be acceptable, but one or two feels just a little too close.

If church gave out frequent flyer miles for attendance, I could go back and forth to heaven several times and most likely take people with me. When I was young we didn’t have iPhones or iPads to keep us busy during services, we had to sit and listen.  I sat next to mom in the first or second pew. She would pinch me if I crossed the line of  irreverence; there were times I wanted to pinch her back and I think I may have. 

When you spend the first twenty some years of your life being in church every time the doors are open you can’t help but pick up a few things. I love the Old Testament stories. In fact I’m writing a little series called The Plan that is roughly based on these stories. The gospels are the core; not sure why we need four of them but I wasn’t on that committee. Perhaps it’s because they tell the most important story and we humans forget easily. The rest of the New Testament, well I never really grasped it, seemed much too much like church.   

My husband has on occasion told me that I have (or had) some bad theology. I wouldn’t say bad; perhaps skewed. You know, really lopsided, backwards and inverted; sort of a dyslexic theology. After all it was based on the belief that as long as you do everything God expects of you blessings will follow. Needless to say, I kept waiting for those blessings to appear.  

In 2011 I said a little prayer; God, I want to know what I believe.  I want to know it’s true and I want the words to express it. A little prayer – right! It was a slap me in the face, rock my core and strip me of years of lopsided, backwards and inverted beliefs. As for the last part of my prayer…these are the words!

Mark 12: 28-31  One of the scribes came and heard them arguing, and recognizing that He had answered them well, asked Him, “What commandment is the foremost of all?” Jesus answered,“The foremost is, ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’  The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” 

This is the first filter that everything we do, say or believe must be put though. Jesus connected these two commands. It’s not one or the other, it’s both.  It’s impossible to justify standing on a soap box preaching condemnation as a way of loving God or others. I’ve heard it said that we should love people but hate sin. Now there’s a lopsided, backwards and inverted belief. 

Loving people is accepting of them with sin. Loving ourselves is understanding that we are sinners – not were sinners – we are sinners.  We are all equal in God’s eyes and He loves us anyway. Truth be told, it’s in our DNA; we can’t not sin and God loves us. We can’t love others until we can accept that in ourselves.  We sin – God loves. For those that believe they are without fault – go ahead, cast the first stone. Let’s just see where it lands. 

 

 

 

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You know that coffee thing…

Yes, that coffee thing. That allergy that came on abundantly and changed my life. The one that forced me to leave an industry I loved. That thing that has kept Jeff and I from visiting local restaurants, attending shows and events for the last four years. The one that has kept me grounded for fear of being trapped at 30,000 feet unable to breath as those around me were being served coffee. Its the allergy that changed my life.

Yesterday I entered a doctors office in hopes that he had a secret treatment that would make it all good. I filled out a few forms and was ushered into a room. The doctor had brought coffee from home to which I added beans of my own. I was given instruction on breathing, eye movement and a few other requirements. We practiced a few times; I couldn’t help but laugh as I worked diligently to follow his instructions.

My mom, daughter and I have an issue following instructions given to us by doctors. Something happens when we hear these instructions. It’s as if we suddenly forget which is our left and right and what direction is up or down; we begin breathing as if we’ve never done it before.  I was so preoccupied with: stand here, head straight, eye’s up, deep breath, eyes down, arm out….that I did not realize the importance of the moment.

We made it through once with no change, twice with a little change and on the third time, my world changed. The two symptoms that have plagued me for four years, loss of voice and the ability to breath, disappeared. I could see it in his eyes as the doctor watched the changes I was experiencing.  His expression was priceless. I stood there breathing in deep clear breaths and speaking in an almost perfect voice. I then stayed in this small room which was now filled with the amazing aroma of coffee for 45 minutes with no effects. At one point I inquired, “You do smell coffee, right?”

“Yes,” was the reply, “It smells like Starbucks in here!”

“I’m in shock,” I said in a clear voice. “Not only can I speak but my chest is not tight and I’m breathing normally.”

He shrugged his shoulders, grinning ear to ear, “We’ll just say it worked again!”

I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. If this hell was over for even a few minutes – it was worth it. I couldn’t possible begin to think that perhaps it was gone for good.

I called Jeff and when he didn’t answer I simply texted, “It worked!” to his response, “Seriously?” I stopped at a friends house and upon entering her kitchen asked where she kept her coffee. “Why,” she asked with big eyes. I didn’t say anything, just opened the container, took a big whiff and said in a clear voice, “I worked!” She put her hands to her face as her eyes began to fill with tears. I had missed her surprise birthday party two years ago because I could enter the restaurant where it was held.

Next week the doctor and I are going to do it again. Before that I will be attending a manager’s meeting. It’s possible that I will actually be able to be to have breakfast with the group instead of sitting in my room waiting for the text informing me that the coffee has been removed and I can come down. Maybe, just maybe I won’t have to stand in the hallway trying to listen through the crack in the door ever again.

I still don’t know if I should laugh or cry…

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Twenty-eight

Today can’t begin without remembering a delivery room filled with bystanders waiting to assist, a doctor with laryngitis and a frantic rush to cut and clamp a cord that had managed to wrap itself around a tiny neck no less than five times.

She was the chubby three-year old that couldn’t repeat three words in a row, the first grader who struggled to keep up. In Jr. High she worked effortlessly to read and comprehend and in High School she was the one to introduce herself to the teacher on the first day and inform him that she would struggle in his class and would need his assistance. She tried her hand at every art media and excelled in all. We prayed she would marry an Engineer that would build her a little pottery shed where she would create beautiful pottery the rest of her life. Then she picked up a camera and began to show us the world through her eyes.

She married her engineer who happened to be a pilot and gave birth to my buddy Liam and our amazing Emery. Through it she has shown her strength, wisdom, intelligence and belief in God that humbles most.

She has her shed but doesn’t throw clay – she plants gardens and today she is twenty-eight.

Happy Birthday Austyn Elizabeth!

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Tulip the service dog

I’m not sure why I noticed the red SUV that backed into the parking spot outside my store, perhaps it was the fact that it backed in. The hatch slowly opened as the passengers exited the front, from the rear emerged a rather large brown and black spotted Great Dane. Isn’t that cute, I thought. A few minutes later a woman holding the leash of this cute and very large Great Dane was standing in the door way asking if they could come in. “Of course,” I said with a smile.

Tulip and her owner entered the store. About 5 steps in, the owner dropped the leash and Tulip was free to roam. Tulip wore a purple service dog vest, she never stood still long enough to be able to read all the wording but I did make out the words ‘in training’.

Tulip appointed herself the welcoming committee and greeted customers at the door. A woman stood with her hands in the air as she backed into the store, Tulip being almost 2/3 her height. After selecting a few items, Tulip and her master made her way to the fitting room. At one point I noticed Tulip bounding back into the fitting rooms, not sure what she was investigating, but t must have been important enough to leave her master.

At the end of this shopping experience, Tulip decided to assist with checking out. First being a bit unnerved by the flashing lights from the router and other computer gadgets hidden behind the counter and then peering up over the counter as if ready to help the next person in line. She tired quickly of the service end of retail and made her way back to the other side and promptly laid down, taking up the entire length of out counter.

After a short rest as she waited for her owner to make her purchases, her owner reached out to take Tulips leach, no bending was required. “What a great dog,” another customer said. “She’s a shopping hound,” replied her owner. Tulip swayed out the store ready and willing to serve the next store.

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Getting ready

A few months ago I decided to let my hair go natural; natural being gray. I started by getting a short cut. Then each weekend for several months I set up my personal salon on the back deck, complete with scissors, comb and mirror. I would strategically snipped off the remaining brown ends until all that remained was my natural color.

Yesterday, on my 53rd birthday two women came into my store. Both appeared to be in their late 70’s early 80’s, and both with very colored treated hair. I made my way over to greet them. “Good morning,” I said.

“I love your hair,” one said. I couldn’t help but smile as I was the one standing there with graying hair and she was bleach-blond.

“Thanks,” I said, “I decided to let it go before Christmas. I really like it.”

“I’m getting ready to do that,” she said. I laughed.

“Yes,” her friend chimed in, “But you have to have a face for that.” Again I laughed.

“I’m not sure about that,” I assured.

“No,” she continued, “You do. Not everyone can pull that off.”

“I’m going to do it,” the first said with great confidence.

The two friends made their way around the store and as they headed toward the door I heard a faint, “I’m going home to cut my hair.”

As they made their way through the front doors I couldn’t help but think, I wonder what I’ll be getting ready to do when I’m 80?

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