On Resolutions, Photos and Friends

Ok, it's January and it just happens. As much as I weary of reading about resolutions in every magazine, ways to keep them, and which ones a body should make for the new year based on current fads, I still do it. This year, though, some things were different. I resisted the urge to write them down and kept my list a mental one. The title in my head varied a bit, too. Instead of being a "Wanna Do/Gonna Do" list, it was more of a "Wanna Do/Gonna Do Better" list. Nothing was brand new... and most things I had already made small changes in. I just wanted to do more of what I was already doing. And to my surprise, physical fitness and health wasn't topping my priorities this year, either. With the big 4-0 breathing down our backs, Marlin and I have upped our consumption of green stuff enough that I am tempted to buy stocks in those markets.

What has made it to the top of my list this year is to take time to consider those things that intrigue me... those small impressions that tease me on the edge of my consciousness almost without my noticing.

You know what I mean when I say we've got moments - huge ones - I'm sure we'll never forget; those days when something happened that closed one chapter and pushed us into another. Those are the days we look back to and say, "that was when, that was why, that was where..."
I tend to swim in those moments until I am all pruny, and they are worthy of it. The day I realized I love Marlin (happy sigh), the months my dad was not well, the day we said goodbye to him, the births of our kids, business decisions, those days an opportunity beckoned and we went for it.... you know - you've had them too. And what makes them so worthwhile to swim in is that God's touch and guidance are woven so significantly through them.

And then, there are the little moments - those small impressions that hold so much potential to soften me, and teach me, to make me laugh, and to shake me into awareness if I would only give them a chance.

So I have given myself permission this year to spend time and energy noticing small things much more than I have. I want to linger in the "insignificant" - long enough to splash a little and get my feet wet. I don't know quite what to expect, which is very much the point, except that I don't expect to be disappointed.

With that fresh on my mind, I pulled a book off my shelf to re-read by Lynne Hybels, Nice Girls Don't Change the World, which is punctuated by fascinating photos. I read it like I normally read, focusing on the words in black and white, absorbing their meaning. I read the last page, and as I closed the book, this flick of a thought thread its way into my consciousness. "Read the pictures." So I opened the book again, flipping through it page by page, appreciating the creative photography and how it complimented the message in each chapter.

But I kept returning to one in particular, so this being post-resolution, I propped open the book and picked up my pen so I could process the stirring in my heart I felt when I spent time looking at this photo. Most of the other photos were small; they covered the bottom half of a page, or at the most, a whole page. But this one extended through the center fold to cover almost two full pages, and I applauded the lay out editor's choice of space. I wanted to be in that picture.

The photo is simple at first glance. Four girls - 20ish - are on a beach surrounded by sand, sky and ocean. They are walking away from the camera toward the water, so the viewer only sees them from the back. They are dressed casually in tees and jeans rolled up to their knees. They are barefoot, caught right in step with one foot planted firmly in the sand and the other up and moving forward. The sun is behind them; long shadows fall ahead of them stretching into the water.

It is a beautiful picture of four friends enjoying the beach, but that is not what captivates me. What moves me is their body language. They are walking close together, arms wrapped around each other. What is so uncanny is the way they seem to be leaning into each other and supporting each other at the same time. They are moving ahead, leaving individual footprints behind them, yet they are not alone. They appear comfortable with each other, confident and trusting. If their lives are like their arms, intertwined and interwoven, they are four lucky friends.

I imagine I was there.....

I hear the laughter of my friends. There are those who are my age with similar responsibilities and commitments. They get it. They know how important it is to shop Costco, they understand what a taxi driver feels like, they feel the tear of the apron strings, and they wear ear plugs. And then there are my friends who can still blow out all their birthday candles in one breath. I draw from their energy and passion to take on the world; I dream more daringly when I am with them, and sometimes I even take out my ear plugs. And beside me, too, in my little day dream, are my friends who use double the wrinkle cream that I do. I envy their freedom, and crave their spiritual discernment and teaching. When they talk, I find myself leaning forward.

I smell the salty ocean water, feel the sand on my toes, and the sun on my back. And I feel the arms - the arms of my friends whose lives are interwoven with mine. Friends with whom I will roll up my jeans. Friends who link arms and move ahead. Friends who allow me to support and lean and appreciate my individual footprint.

That is such a feel-good picture. And it is reality. Often. But not always. I know that sometimes the camera of life would catch me in a different pose. Instead of my arm around the back of a friend in support and love, it would catch me with my arm withdrawn, pointing a finger instead. Instead of my focus being ahead, I would be gazing at my friend's faults. And I know myself well enough to know, that often the photo would show me with two feet firmly planted, pulling back against the forward movement of change and challenge. And sometimes, I would be staring at someone else's finger.

I need to stay in this picture, to live in community. I need to keep it a reality in my life, whether we are on a beach, around a table, in a vehicle, on the phone or writing emails. And those days when the camera of life catches one of us in a unattractive pose, we'll do what committed friends do - lean in a little harder, support a little bit more, keep our arms around each other and head for the beach.

Favorite Things

It was Christmas Eve and our usual family tradition was in full swing - a sleepover in our living room. We snuggle down with tons of foamies, pillows, and blankets, watching a movie until we drop off to sleep one at a time. Last man down turns off the TV.

This year we chose the classic Sound of Music. It is one of our favorites, and in the spirit of the movie and the song.... these are a few of our favorite things! We had great fun thinking about what we would put in the blanks of the song, and everyone had lots of favorite things. Not in any priority, here is a sampling of what makes us feel inspired and good way down deep.

We love to smell

• fresh air
• lilacs
• cookies
• fresh ground/fresh brewed coffee
• cinnamon rolls, oozing brown sugar and butter and dripping with carmel frosting
• Chanel No. 5

We love to taste

• Tacos piled high with all the accessories
• Candy
• Steak with bleu cheese - after a round of golf with friends
• Omelets stuffed and popping with crisp-fried veggies and cheese
• Italian ice
• Kraft dinner
• Ribs at Montanas
• Fresh ground/fresh brewed coffee

We feel happy when we wear

• Bright clothes
• skirts
• dressy clothes
• nail polish
• lip gloss
• Crest white strips
• heels
• jeans
• shorts

We love to hear

• the ocean - one of the best sounds for our soul
• music of all kinds - jazz, worship, rock, orchestra and kid's music
• the song: I Wanna Go Deep
• family and friends on the phone
• laughter
• a good joke
• "I love you"
• Teaching that moves us - toward God's heart and toward personal and family growth

Let us feel

• hugs and kisses - arms wrapped tightly around our necks
• water rushing under a kneeboard or snow spraying in our faces
• our hearts moved in worship to a God who is so creative
• the rush of zooming down a waterslide or roller coaster
• anything soft
• wind on my face

We smile when we see

• colors - lime green, dark blue, black and purple
• the Eiffel Tower
• Beautiful nails - finger and toe
• the enthusiasm and joy of someone who loves what they do
• flower gardens
• good sense
• beautiful dance choreography
• an environment created with specific purpose, intention and beauty
• a kite

We love to

• play volleyball
• help others
• swim
• ice skate
• play soccer
• jump on the trampoline
• snow machine
• cut paper
• lead a group of people toward a goal/vision
• make flower arrangements
• drum, play guitar, play with the band
• host friends

Current favorite books

• Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Montgomery
• Ecclesiastes by King Solomon
• Tough Choices by Carly Fiorina
• I Spy by Scholastic
• Frank Peretti books
• A Hat for Ivan by Max Lacado

In our dreams what we want to do most is

• build a coffee shop
• take Sherri, Eric, and Allison to experience other parts of the world and culture
• get A's at Oxford
• see the Canadian Rockies
• eat a seafood dinner by the sea
• grow 3" taller
• visit family, Willow Creek Community Church and Northpoint Church
• become Canadian citizens

We loved doing this - when we got started I could hardly write fast enough to keep up with what everyone was saying.

We've decided that one of our very favorite things to do is to think about what we love and what pumps us up.

At the start of 2008, Marlin and I want to keep focusing ourselves and our kids, not selfishly, but purposefully on what we love. It accomplishes at least a few things: We become instantly more thankful for what we've been blessed with. We purposely savor life with its little things and take time to notice the beauty all around us and within us, and, probably the most important one- it helps us realize in part what God has created us to do. And our favorite place to be - as other writers have put it so well - is in our sweet spot, doing what we were created to do.

Just for fun....

On Juggling

I always admired jugglers. As a kid, I would see them on the rare occasion my farming family was in the city. More recently, I see them on TV, or at our town's summer festival. The current circumstance fades away as I watch. It doesn't matter if a moment before I was hot and thirsty, or if the kids are pulling me toward the snowcone booth. Nor does it matter if I am in my living room with stacks of housework calling my name. When I see a juggler I am mesmerized - watching as one ball arches gracefully between his hands. I blink, and seemingly out of nowhere comes a second ball, then a third, a fourth, fifth and sixth, all moving up and down and over each other in such perfect sync they appear to be moved by magic. I want to see one ball complete its circuit, but I blink again - and miss it. I shake my head and decide they are moved by magic. The magic is in the hand of the juggler, given to him because of hours and hours of practice and unwavering concentration. At the end of the show, I applaud loudly then walk away, knowing I will always be a spectator. I will - in all probability - never participate in it. I will always only be a fan of the act.

The other day I looked at my schedule and wondered how the list of small things that needed to be done had gotten so long and complicated. One small thing piled on top of another, and I realized I needed to manage things just right to make everything work the way it needed to.
Our truck was in the garage - leaving Marlin without wheels. After breakfast and morning routine, he needed dropped off at work and the kids to two different schools. I had agreed to trade babysitting with a friend, since we both had places we needed to be without preschoolers.
After school delivery and a few quick jobs completed at home, I watched her kids until she came back. Then I watched the clock and chatted my allotted few moments, kissed Chloe goodbye and headed off to school to watch Allison's volleyball game. I made it just in time - her team was heading onto the court. After the game, I picked up Chloe, picked up groceries, picked up kids from high school, and made it home with minutes to spare before my elementary scholars walked in the door. Next was helping with homework and music practice, making dinner, and picking up Marlin and Sherri at work.

Later that night, with a hot cup of coffee in hand and a very chaotic but quiet house, I was contemplating the crazy turn my day had taken. I left out an internal exhale, happy I was able to keep my commitments without dropping the ball. It was then the word "juggling" came to my mind. "Hmm," I thought with a tinge of sarcasm, "maybe I've been wrong all along. Maybe my fascination with a juggling act is not because I wish I could do it, but because I do it all the time!" I realized when I stopped to think about it, that I have a great deal of empathy for the amount of concentration and energy it takes to keep a whole lot of balls in the air at one time.

The balls I juggle are colorful - kid's schedules, school activities, housework, office and business activities, time with friends and family, time for my own soul growth and stimulation.

But I've got a real advantage a professional juggler does not have. Many days I do lose rhythm, momentum, energy or concentration. Just when I begin to feel the panic of losing a ball, someone else steps in and expertly catches it.

Marlin gives me a kiss and says, "I've got that one covered, Babe." The kids pick up an extra job or two. A friend may stop by, call, or email at just the right time, and with the motivation of that interaction, I resume my rhythm.

God didn't create me to be super woman and juggle life alone. He created me to be interdependant: to allow others into my act, and at times to step into someone else's.

And then there are those days when Marlin steps into my act, looks at the balls I am juggling, points at one and advises, "Drop that ball, Les. It isn't worth the energy it takes for you to juggle that one. Let it go." With his perspective I realize that my act would be more beautiful and graceful without it. And so - I do. I let it drop without regret.

The next time I watch a juggler I will respond like always. I will admire him, and ignore the world for a few moments while his balls swirl magically around him. And the next time I will also identify with him in many ways. Like him, I use energy and concentration to keep things flowing in our family. And at least some of the time, I hope the flow is smooth, graceful and beautiful. Though I will never wow crowds with my talent, I will not feel so different from him. I think I know a bit how he feels. Sort of. One thing he does that I do not do is stand there alone.

The Little Girl in the Yellow Dress

She's taught me so much. I learn from her each day. I do not know her name, nor exactly where she lives.

She is a tiny Indian girl, caught by the camera of a photographer. I "met" her when her image filled the large screen at the Leadership Summit Marlin and I attended in August. The speakers were showing us the desperate need of children in the east, and my heart twisted in pain as I watched the drama unfold.

Totally unaware of a photographer nearby, she paused on the dark and dirty street. I was captivated by her tiny figure; no more than four years old, maybe only three. I saw my little girls' faces in her beautiful brown one, framed by lovely black hair. She wore a vivid yellow dress, the only bright spot in the scope of the camera lens. No adult or older child accompanied her. No one. I never noticed she carried a blanket until she began to spread it on the ground, walking around it to deliberately smooth out all four corners. The spot she chose was close to another figure lying on the ground and covered with a blanket. I could see it was someone much bigger than she. She paid no attention to whomever was lying there, but I wondered if subconsciously it was a small comfort to have someone else nearby.

Her blanket fixed to her satisfaction, she picked up a small pillow off the ground that she had also carried with her, lay down, and curled into a semi-fetal position with only the thin blanket between her and the hard ground. She had nothing to cover herself with; no one to kiss her and hug her.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I watched. There were none on hers. She went about her bedtime ritual of finding a spot to sleep and smoothing out her blanket so nonchalantly.

I don't know who she is. But through the lens of a camera, she has touched my heart so deeply....so deeply, it broke that day in the dark auditorium, and unlike some other sorry scenes I've witnessed, I can't forget about her. Why? Is it because she was so small, so vulnerable? Maybe. Or maybe it is because my heart was soft and open and uncluttered that day. I really, honestly don't know. I just know God asks me to wrestle with her story, to pay attention, and to allow it to become part of me. I don't do life quite like before I met her.

I see her when I glance longingly at the beautiful leather furniture pictured so vividly in the mail flyers, or when I sweep our 25 yr old floors a bit grudgingly, or wish the girls' bedroom furniture would all match. I see her in mid-conversation with friends about how lovely it would be to have a lake front home. I see her when we tuck our kids into their clean, cozy, warm beds at night, when I hold them close and plant soft kisses in their hair. I see her when our family talks about our birthday gift to Jesus this Christmas.

She has taught me so much, this little girl in yellow. Through her, God nudges me away from greed and envy toward contentment and thankfulness. Because of her, and often for her, I hold my own little girls just a bit longer, a bit tighter. The day I got that tiny glimpse into her story, my heart expanded to a level of compassion I didn't know I was capable of. Our family prays for her - prays for her to have someone to hug her, kiss her, and tuck her into a safe bed at night. We ask God to give her food. We pray someone will tell her about Jesus and that one day she will be able to do for kids what no one did for her. And I still cry when I think of her. If I had mascara on now, it would be running in black streaks down my cheeks, just like the day I first saw her.

She doesn't know. She is oblivious to how profoundly God has used her to make a difference within me, and maybe within thousands of others a world away who saw her on the screen that day. She had - literally - nothing. Maybe not even a bowl of rice in the last 24 hours. Only a blanket, a pillow and a bright yellow dress.

You know what, there are days when I feel like that, too - like I have nothing - nothing that would really make a difference to the world. I hold nothing in my hands that I can wield to get things done on a grand scale - no power of influence or prestige, no great sums of money, no fame.... just dreams in my heart. Dreams I share with Marlin of ways we can change and impact our broken world just a little bit. And sometimes the reality of those dreams seems like a far off distant speck on the horizon that never moves closer. But you know something else? Somehow I expect that even these days when all I have to offer to God and the world is dreams and just living in trust and contentment, it is enough. He will multiply my nothing for great impact. I know He can because I've seen Him do it - through a little girl in a yellow dress.

They are my kids; They are my teachers

I look at Chloe, my 3 yr old - innocent and trusting. We are at home, her place of comfort and security. She knows the way of things here. But we need to leave. I want her to experience different things so she learns, grows and becomes a bigger person.

We leave the house. She is excited. She doesn't know exactly where we are going; neither the purpose of our "trip". But she trusts me. She places her hand securely in mine and off we go. She follows my lead, in step with me, content to be together, knowing that with her hand in mine, she is safe. Never mind the cars that whiz by us only a few feet away. Never mind the lake, the rocks, and everything else that is potentially dangerous. She is beside me and she is safe.

But in a short while the trip begins to seem long to her. Not to me. I understand the purpose, the destination and what I have planned for her. Her steps slow. She walks with reluctance. Soon, she forgets that the journey is special in itself, as are the things we are talking and learning about in the process. She forgets there is a purpose to this trip. She is distracted by insignificant things along the way. She whines. She begs for things that I know are not good for her. They will quiet her only a bit, not make her happy. Her focus is totally gone from me, or from discovering where we are headed. She is consumed with unhappiness and thinks that the only way she will be happy are this stuff she sees - all small, cheap, and temporary. A lollipop that will only last minutes, a balloon that will burst... they seem so silly to me. I want her to focus on me, and on the surprise that awaits her.

Now the little hand in mine is not only reluctant. She doesn't hear my encouragements and promises. She tugs and pulls her hand out of mine and turns and runs. Away from me. She is done with this trip. I catch my breath and call for her to stop. She doesn't realize the danger of where she is running. All she knows is that it is away from me - away from the direction we were headed. But she quickly becomes disoriented and confused. She is too small to see the big picture of where we are. Fear replaces confidence. She pauses to listen. Can she hear me? She does. I am calling her - moving toward her. She turns, sees me, and runs into my open arms.

Her fear subsides and she places her hand in mine once more. We resume our walk, she with a heart of contentment, me with anticipation of showing her what I have planned.

I see myself in Chloe. I am so much like her. God nudges me away from my comfort zone; it is time to head out. I put my hand in His, though I don't usually know where we are headed. I just understand His gentle leading, and keep in step beside Him. One step at a time. Now here, now there. We change direction a bit, but continue to move steadily forward. I am secure. I know I can trust Him. He always keeps His promises.

But.... within a short distance I begin to think this is taking too long. I knew we were headed out, away from what was secure and comfortable to me, but I never thought it would take this long. My feet slow, and my hand in His begins to pull back a bit. I forget to look at Him, or to listen to Him. I look around me, and get distracted by things that look so appealing. I want them so much. I know they would make the trip easier.... I beg. I whine. I bargain. I am doing all the talking and it isn't sounding very nice.

I begin toying with the idea that maybe I don't want to go with God on this "trip". Actually, no I don't. This is too long, too hard. I am tired. I thought we'd be done and planning the next trip a long time ago. I jerk my hand away and turn around. I begin to run back to what is safe and secure and comfortable. Oh - but I don't see the danger. I can't see the big picture of where we are. I keep walking, ignoring God's voice. But - I can't find the place I loved. It isn't the same anymore - and quickly I become confused, scared and alone.

In time, I understand I am only secure when God is with me. To go back by myself to what I knew and loved is only loneliness. I am afraid. I stop running. I pause. Can I hear God? How far have I run away from Him? Too far? No - I can hear Him! I turn back, and see that nail-scarred hand stretched out to me - He was following me. I run - this time toward Him - right into open arms. I put my hand back into His. I am ready to get on with it. I don't care how long the trip is. I only care that I am with Him. The loneliness, the loss of direction was too hard, too scary. I look up. A mountain looms near. I grip His hand more firmly..... He whispers, "It is called grace - and trust. I have both for you."

I smile - and know at the end of this adventure - whenever it is, I will look back and say, "What a ride! What a ride!"

Isaiah 41:13 "I am holding you by your right hand - I, the Lord your God - and I say to you, 'Don't be afraid. I am here to help you'."