After the Rain

(Side note. Or rather top note. Ironically, I started this post on May 2nd. Since then winter has leap frogged right over spring and into summer temperatures. Folks are complaining about that too! Because this post was written in bits and pieces, finding something worthwhile may be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Have at it, friends!)

The weather seemed almost scripted.

Thick, heavy snow fell from a dark, portentous sky as I covertly led the HH into the school, down a couple of hallways and then into the classroom where I work.

No one is allowed into the building without a school ID or visitor’s pass and my overactive imagination already had the room filled with security guards and over-sized deans interrogating me and confiscating the pliers and the knife that my husband had in his possession. Though he is as handsome as any Hollywood legend, I was certain that the fresh, large scar on his face gave him an ominous appearance and the authorities would have him on the floor, handcuffed – the requisite overturned desks adding to the mayhem – before he could utter a word.

Okay, maybe I’ve started watching too many action movies with the HH. (I never finish them because the foot rubs put me to sleep.)

There were no security guards, no interrogations , no hubby face down on the carpet with a knee in his back.  In fact, no one gave us a second glance. Sigh. Such an uneventful life I live.

Instead, the HH was warmly welcomed by my co-workers and became the hero of the hour when he spent the next ten minutes replacing the defective electrical plug on our classroom refrigerator. A week prior, fire inspectors had ordered the teacher I assist to fix the fridge or get rid of it.

Naturally I had volunteered my very capable (and very handsome-in-spite-of-the-scar) husband for the Save the Refrigerator project.  As usual, he didn’t let me down, and a short time later I escorted him to the door, which I managed to open without setting off any alarms, and and sneaked a quick kiss before he headed  out into the snow.

Yes. Into the snow.

On May 1st.

Six weeks after the calendar announced the arrival of spring.

The next day I again woke up to a winter wonderland and an icy drive to work.

Bitterly cold wind cut through my thin slacks as I cautiously hurried across the street and fumbled with the ID that gave me access to the building. A blast of grumbling apparently rode in on the gale; folks were indignant that snow had the audacity to show its frigid face round these parts, at this time of year.

Um.

This is Colorado. We get winter during spring.

While that might be momentarily inconvenient or frustrating and not what we think we want, it is certainly what we need in order to get what so many of us really DO want..

Isn’t that human nature? To want something – like camping without fire bans, and the possibility of lush, green lawns, and no city-wide water restrictions – but we buck and fight against what it takes to get there? Especially here, in America, the land of I-Want-It-Now-And-I-Want-It-For-Free?

I’ve mentioned before that I get deep longings for the place where I grew up. I love Vermont in spring, when the green is so vibrant it takes your breath away, when the ground is plush and cool beneath bare feet.

(Okay, okay.  And because that’s when creemee stands open.)

Then there’s the Vermont autumns. Oh, a New England Autumn needs to be experienced to be understood! The hillsides are set ablaze with so many hues of oranges and reds and yellows and purples that driving the winding country roads when the sun says goodnight is like viewing a God created laser show. Except better.

Some things in life are so poignant, so stirring, so enjoyable that they are almost painful in their beauty. It’s different for everyone.

Perhaps your moments  include racing down a mountain with ski poles in hand. Or playing with children in a third world orphanage. Or a sunset on a Hawain beach. Or the first tiny cry of a newborn. Or casting a fishing line out on a lake as the sun yawns and stretches and rises from slumber.

Driving through the Vermont mountains when the trees don their resplendent autumn ball gowns and courtesy for all to see is on my list, so beautiful it creates an inexplicable ache deep within.

But those resplendent fall colors come at a cost.

Precipitation.

Seemingly endless winter months of gray skies and snow and wet mittens and frozen windshield wipers and runny noses and piles of snowsuits.

And then the snow gives way to springtime rains and the ground becomes a sponge that cannot hold another drop and folks gripe and complain and wonder if the sun will ever shine. Mud is tracked throughout the house and restless children who have been cooped up too long bicker and mope.

It’s the price for all of those splendid colors.

Life can be a lot like that.

We desire something, sometimes with a visceral longing that we can’t even define, but we don’t want or recognize what it takes to get there.

Have you ever considered the very thing you are complaining about, the situation you are frustrated with, the circumstance you don’t understand, the hard thing, is a gift from God to bring you to the place you most want to be?

I heard from College Boy last night. I asked how his training was going, and was surprised by his answer. “It’s been one of the best weeks ever… I’ve learned a ton and feel like I’ve worked harder in training this week than I have at anything except maybe Mock Trial.”

His internship is a HARD thing, and it is going to be a challenging summer,  yet he sees the benefits and calls it good.

That makes this mother’s heart happy.

Because I’ve learned that the best places, the most fertile and abundant lands have been reached only after arduous and challenging paths; we may arrive with blistered feet and aching backs but it is so worth the climb.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Romans 8:19

(Oh, I know that this verse refers to a bigger picture: any suffering for Christ we experience in this present age will be forgotten when we enter into His eternal glory. But I believe it is also for the practical, the everyday smaller “sufferings.”  When we endure and persevere through trials – by  faith in and the strength of our Redeemer – a glorious thing will be revealed to us.)

It is the rain and the snow that carry in the most brilliant colors.

Hang in there.

I’ve Got Nothin’….

But Peter said, “I don’t have any silver or gold for you. But I’ll give you what I have. In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, get up and walk!” Acts 3:6 NLT

I’ve Got Nothin’…

She cracks me up, this feisty, dimpled, youngest daughter of mine.

And she constantly boomerangs my own words right back at me. Like today.

I dragged her to Hobby Lobby with me after work.

I had two main items I planned to purchase and I wanted her to pay for one, using a forty-percent off coupon for me. After forcing myself past shabby chic household décor and a tiered wire basket I longed to put on my kitchen countertop, and aisle after aisle of scrapbooking supplies, we came to the clearance spot.  There it was.  A beautiful, spiral sketch book with a muted red hardbound cover. For a mere $4.99.  I snatched it up and then went in search of drawing pencils and a simple case to put them in

I still had the other item to find; a gift for my stepmother, but I hadn’t been able to locate what I was looking for. I explained to a Hobby Lobby employee what I wanted and he quickly went off to find it for me.  While my daughter and I waited, I once again was bit by the bug of uncertainty.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be purchasing this for a student,” I mumbled. “Especially since he isn’t even one of the students I am assigned to work with.”  I thought of the young man and the reason I was making the purchase. He is a thin Asian boy whose pants purposefully sag and whose face is constantly set in a scowl and who sometimes comes to class with red eyes and the scent of pot worn like a cologne.  He tends to be insolent, and rarely participates in table discussions during class time. He’d recently cussed at the Special Ed (SPED) student I accompany, because the boy had stared a tad too long at the obviously angry young man. “He’s just mean,” I had told myself as I warned the SPED boy to keep his eyes in another direction.

 My heart was instantly pricked. No one is “just mean.” And sometimes meanness simply needs to be countered with kindness.  Not always, but sometimes responding to ugliness with a smile and a kind word can make a difference.

The next day in class I was determined to find something good in the young man, and speak it aloud. When he sauntered in, it was obvious he had been smoking. “Don’t bother with it, you’re just wasting your time,” a little voice whispered, but I ignored it, knowing it wasn’t God’s Spirit. I watched the young man drawing his name on his folder in fancy, shaded letters.  Soon he was doodling a pattern on his wrist with an ink pen.

“Hey, you are really good at that!” I told him, meaning every word. “But you really need a sketch book so that you don’t have to use your arm to draw on,” I joked. He looked at me and a huge smile spread across his face.

“You think I’m good, Miss?” He asked with a heavy accent.

“I do. And you know, there are career fields that you could pursue that would use those talents.” I told him. “Like graphic art. Or designing business signs.”  His entire countenance changed and the next thing I knew he was joining in the table conversation and getting his work done. He asked a couple more times if I thought he was good and then he confided to me that he wanted to change his name when he was older and his reasons for the change, and the fact that he had been in a Thai refugee camp,  and a few other details about his life. A couple kind words and suddenly he was acting like we were buddies.

Still, I wasn’t sure about the sketch pad and I voiced my doubts to my daughter, wondering if I should purchase it or not.

“Want the advice you would give me?” She asked.

“Sure!”  I was hoping for some sage words.

She was quiet for a second or two. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said solemnly, before breaking into a grin.

I burst out laughing and embarrassed her with a huge hug right there in the middle of a Hobby Lobby aisle.

Because she’s right, that is the advice I frequently give out.

Many times, I’ve got nothing. No advice to give, no words of wisdom, no specific action to take when people come to me asking “What should I do?”

The thing is, even if I think I know the answer for someone else, it’s not necessarily THE answer. And even if it is THE answer, when it comes out of MY mouth, it isn’t necessarily gonna be received as the right answer.  It’s not that I don’t think there are moral right and wrongs and absolutes. I do.

But I also know that sometimes I’m in the wrong. Sometimes I’m opinionated and prideful. Sometimes I’m prone to excess (I simply cannot seem to control myself around a bag of Lays Plain Potato Chips) or selfishness. There’s still a lot of me that needs work.

So, often times, I simply respond “I don’t know what to tell you to do. I don’t have the answer.”

And then I’ll point ‘em to Jesus.  ‘Cause He is the One who does have THE answer; in fact He IS the answer.

On this blog, you won’t usually find me telling you the dos and don’ts of Scripture although I absolutely and unashamedly believe that the Bible is God-breathed and is a love letter from God as well as an instructional manual for everyday living. It speaks about marriage and infidelity, it speaks about honesty and deceitfulness, it speaks about kindness and meanness, it speaks about contentedness and jealousy, it speaks of children and family and homosexuality and gluttony and joy and faith and hope and forgiveness and bitterness and anger and gossip and lying and pride and evil and goodness and church and serving  and so much more. Most of all it speaks of redemption.

But hearing these  instructions or reading this love letter apart from knowing the Author are pretty much useless. Like trying to make drip coffee without plugging in the coffee pot. Or flying a kite without any wind. Or driving a Corvette that has no engine. It. Does. Not. Work.  So I won’t instruct you.

Instead, I invite you to join me in my journey, to take a peek at the life of a girl who is far from perfect, but who has a passion for life and for people and for leading people to fullness of  life in Jesus. A girl who has as many questions as answers, but who is willing to share  bits of fabric from her simple life quilt that is still being pieced together.  Remember, it won’t look like your quilt, ‘cause you have  different bits of fabric.

My stories are here to encourage you and inspire you to seek Jesus. To learn how to love Him with all of your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to get your direction from Him.

He’s the One who transforms hearts, who convicts of sin, who knows exactly what you were created for.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’ve got nothing for ya.

But I’ve got Jesus and He’s got it all.

Sketch Book Saga Update

I started this post almost two weeks ago. I haven’t had a chance to finish it until tonight, when the power went out and I couldn’t cook or clean or work in the craft room. Even my phone was dead.  All I had was this laptop and about an hour’s worth of battery life and a partially charged Kindle.

Anyway. I thought I’d share a little more about the student artist. Even up until the day that I was going to give him the sketch pad I was having doubts, but I put it into my school bag anyway. I wasn’t sure how I could give it to him without other kids in the class seeing (that would just be awkward!) and I always left early because of other responsibilities, so I couldn’t give it to him after class.  I purchased it on a Monday. Tuesday was a snow day. Wednesday was the HH’s skin cancer surgical procedure so I took him to the hospital and then arrived at school later than usual. And the young man that I purchased the sketch pad for just happened to be right outside of my classroom. (This is a different classroom than I attend with him.) I quickly gave it to him.

Two periods later we were in the class we usually are in together. And he was already on his second page in the sketchbook; a very detailed portrait. I asked to see his first picture and he flipped the page.

I got goosebumps.

He had beautifully sketched three crosses on a hillside with a “face” looking down upon them; much like the face that is often depicted for Jesus, though we don’t know what He looked like.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“Jesus,” He replied.

“Do you believe in Jesus?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied with a grin. “I am a Christian.”

Here’s the thing. In public schools we can’t really openly share our faith, unless a student brings it up. I now had an open door with this student!

“I do too,” I told him. “In fact, I have been praying for you and that is why I bought you the sketch pad.”

Since then, I have been able to share Scripture with him on a couple of occasions. And even other students – who don’t know that I gave him the sketch pad – have commented on how nice this young man has become, practically overnight!

I know God was teaching me a lesson here. No one is “just mean.” And sometimes “ugly” needs to be countered with love and kindness.

A friend in Thailand told me that Thai refugees (who make up a large portion of our student population) often put their faith in Jesus and confess to know Him,  but then are never discipled. They call themselves Christians but bear no fruit because they haven’t learned how to abide in Christ. Prayerfully, by the grace of God, I’ve been able to plant some seeds in this very talented young man’s life.

(And I now tell him to pull up his pants. And he grins and says, “Okay, Miss.”

See You On The Dance Floor

This is an old post, from an old blog, that  I wrote back in 2009 and shared on January 8, 2010, when people began asking me what had happened; how it was that I had been so radically transformed in my Christian faith and how could they get to that place, the one I refer to as the Much More Life, based on Romans 5:10.  Remember, this was a few years before the Aurora Century 16 shooting. It’s an old post, but I am republishing  it because after sharing my testimony in public, I am again getting that same question.  Here’s how I answered it then:

Friday, January 8, 2010

See You On the Dance Floor?

I have been asked several times lately how I was set free from my past and how I am able to continue to walk (dance? skip?) this life journey in freedom. The change is so evident, some have said, that they want to know exactly when and how it happened. I struggle with explaining; it’s not so much that it’s an elusive explanation, or a complicated one but rather it’s more of an experiential one. I’ll do my best to put it into words, but I also know that my words will be merely that – words – until an AHA moment is experienced.  I pray for you, my readers, to have an AHA moment (a moment when the indwelling Spirit of God takes a truth and transforms it beyond knowledge to an everyday experience, in your life)  and to delight in the rest of your earthly days. So put on your dancing shoes and get ready.

A recent visit to my old high school, which has undergone many changes!

Once again, to begin, I am going to take a detour into the past. My high school education was shaky at best.  While I did have some wonderful, caring teachers, I came from a small town with very limited resources.  Weave into that the fact that I was drinking heavily and trying to survive life, and you end up with a pretty pathetic educational cord to display. It used to be the bane of my existence – I felt like there were so many things I didn’t know that I should know.   Still, there are a few things from all those years ago that have stuck with me because they struck me with enough force to leave a lifetime imprint. Once such imprint came from a novel I read for history class.  I can’t tell you the name of the book or the author.  But I can tell you that I cried.  I cried over the fact that a main character in the book had been set free from slavery by the Emancipation Proclamation but he didn’t know it and so he continued to live the depressing life of a slave.  The Emancipation Proclamation made no difference in his life because he didn’t know about it –  he couldn’t read and this young slave had little contact with other people, so for a long time he simply continued life as he knew it – which included beatings and skimpy feedings and long hours of harsh manual labor.  He didn’t know he had been emancipated and so he lived in bondage.

I share the story of this slave, because it mirrors my story. I was emancipated some 19 years ago (when I put my faith in the resurrected Christ) but spent many, many years carrying around clanking chains and heavy burdens.  Two years ago, I began walking in the truth of my freedom. I also share this story because it helps me explain my SET FREE life. Here are a few points:

1. I had to know that I needed to be set free.  If  there isn’t anything in a person’s life that he feels the need to be set free from then he won’t seek freedom.  Most people either fool themselves into thinking they don’t need freedom OR they seek freedom from their own resources.  Ironically, it’s usually those resources that have them in chains in the first place. In my personal life story, I needed to be set free from ME and trying to meet my needs in my own way.  I needed to be set free from anger. I needed to be set free from bitterness.  I needed to be set free from worry and anxiety.  For you it might be different.  You might need to be set free from pride, or a volatile temper, or trying to please everyone, or placing too much time and energy on the physical appearance, or a chemical addiction, or a gambling/shopping addiction or approval addiction,  or materialism or poor self esteem or arrogance or painful things that were done TO you such as abuse or rape.  The list is inexhaustible; but when you come to a place where you recognize there are some chains around your neck and some shackles binding your feet, when the ropes begin to chafe, then you are ready to be set free.

2. There has to be a law that sets me free. This “law” is Christ Himself.  He is the Messiah – the deliverer or rescuer.  Galatians 5:1 says stand fast in the liberty by which Christ has made us free..   John 8:36 says Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed. 


3. I have to know this law (truth) and believe it.  Jesus said to the Pharisees in John 8:30 If you abide in My word, you are My disciples indeed.  And you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free. He also said  ”I am the way, the truth and the life.”   Unfortunately, the Pharisees – the religious leaders of their day – were unable to recognize their bondage.  Remember my first point:? You have to know and acknowledge that you are in bondage before you can be set free.  The Pharisees were prideful and couldn’t see their chains. They responded: We are Abraham’s descendants and have never been in bondage to anyone.  How can You say, “You will be made free.”  Sadly, they didn’t see their need because they were considered the “elite” of their day, and so they continued in their bondage.

4.  I must stand firm in my freedom.  My life is now in Christ and I have been made completely righteous.  I have been set free.  But I must stand firm in this freedom as Galatians 5:1 states: Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.  My freedom means this: All things are lawful for me, but all things are not helpful.  All things are lawful, but I will not be brought under the power of any. 1 Corinthians 6:1-2  As a believer in Christ, who has been set free, there isn’t anything that I can do to make me lose that freedom. I don’t have to follow any specific law or rule or church tradition.  However (and more importantly)  I am also now free to NOT do those things that had me in bondage.  Freedom doesn’t mean CAN”T DO – it means DOESN’T HAVE TO DO.  What a difference.
Many Christians experience the initial freedom of putting their faith in the Redeemer, but immediately put themselves back into the slavery of  following rules and trying to do good works to please God and others.  In Colossians 2:6  Paul says that the same way we were adopted into the family of God  is the very way in which we should continue walking. As you have received the Lord Jesus Christ, so walk in Him. We entered the family of God by faith. (But as many received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name, who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. John 1:12)  

And that is how we are to continue to walk.  It is my responsibility to trust and believe; it is God’s responsibility to complete the work.  It sounds simple and yet impossible at the same time, but it is truth.  1) I believe. 2) God works.  So when people ask me “what happened to you?” it is difficult to explain.  I believed.  And God worked.

And now, I’m doing a Happy Dance of Freedom to the song of the Abundant (overflowing, more-than-enough) Life.  My prayer is that I’ll see you on the dance floor.

I also reposted HOW Do I Get There? back in September in response to the same kind of questions.

Grateful for this wonderful life,
Marie with a