Hope for the Hopeless

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. Romans 12:15 This verse, in the context of the chapter where it's found, is full of wisdom designed to call Christians to be a people set apart--living differently from the rest of the world.  We are to be a people of compassion and conviction, blessing even those who curse us.  But, this verse has often confused me when it comes to dealing with a loved one who suffers from depression.  How are we called to react to an individual whose season of weeping is deep and prolonged?  When the sadness doesn't ease, and joy seems out of reach, I don't believe it is our duty to join them in the pool of despair.   I have had times of pain, anger and frustration.  But, in all honesty, I have never really had to "suffer".  I haven't buried a child or parent.  We haven't had cancer or other potentially terminal diagnosis hit our home.  I know the Lord has spared me from troubles beyond what I can bare.  However, I'm not ignorant in thinking that we are somehow immune from the potential of great pain.   Does the absence of a horrifically tragic experience in my own life cause me to lack sympathy for those walking through the fire?  I don't think so.  My heart breaks with those whose hurt is so deep that it brings them to their knees.  But if I'm not careful, I can be swept up in the torrent of grief and forget the ultimate truth (and promise) of hope. I often get desperate for the Lord to fix the hearts, minds and spirits of those that are stuck in this cycle of depression.  This blog is in no way intending to address the issue of clinical depression, medication, or medical intervention.  Rather, it's more of a contemplation of what my role is to be as I stand by and watch those I love fight (or give up) in the midst of it. While I was working on this blog, my daughter came in to share with me the fact that Pluto's year is equivalent of 248 Earth years. That makes for some very long seasons on the Dwarf Planet!  But, it struck me as an appropriate picture for this very issue.  Our seasons in life are all unique.  Some cycle through them quickly while other have years before something else crosses the horizon.  Unfortunately, that is how if often goes for those in depression.  It is a long, hard road to travel and can takes years for any relief to come into view. So, rather then immerse myself into their grief, I have to stand firm on the Word of the Lord and remind them, and myself of the hope we have.  If you are in the company of someone who is in a long season of grief, don't give in and don't give up.  Drench yourself in the truth and remember that we are called to be a peculiar people.  You and I Do have a hope to offer and a role to play. Romans 12:10-12  (NASB) 10 Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor; 11 not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; 12 rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer 

Being a Superhero

I'm sure I've shared before my appreciation of Superhero folklore.  I love the idea of someone who is bigger than life, standing up for the weak or mistreated.  I have watched "The Incredibles" many times with my children, and had a daydream or two about what it would be like to be a "Super Family".

But, I have to catch myself from thinking too much about the fanciful.  After all, we do live in the natural, and I need to be content with the fact that I don't have, and won't inherit any powers that will turn me into Supermom (or Superwife).  If I'm bitten by a spider, I will swell and itch.  If I eat lots of spinach, I'll be doing good on my daily intake of iron.  And I suppose I have enough radioactivity in my life hosting a radio show 5 days a week.

So, that leaves me with needing to do the best I can, with what I have.  So, what do I have and how can I use it to make a difference in someone's life?

Health: I can help you move your furniture, babysit your kids, or paint your living room.

Curiosity/Selective Boldness:  When you need a new couch and only have $300, but the one you really want is $500, what can be done?  Well, I'm going to find out and ask for it!

A Minivan:  I know this isn't often considered in the list of cool superhero products, but if you need me to pick you up, no problem!  And yes, I can fit an 8 foot section of PVC inside!

Coolheadedness:  If you, your child, or my child fall and split their head open, I won't go running around like a chicken with it's head cut off.  I will be swift to act and get the help you need.

A Well Stocked Pantry:  When a tech comes over to fix the heater, and shares that he's fallen on some hard times--he's going to leave with plenty of food.

A Computer: Yes, I can organize your field trip, look up directions to the nearest Pro shop, and inform you about a surprise birthday party.

I realize that I'm just a small ripple in a big pond.  But, I've been encouraged today, that even the smallest kind/loving action can have far reaching effects.  While I'm no Mrs. Incredible (and thank goodness--because I don't want to spend my nights in tight Lycra) I have the power to influence my small circle.  And they, in turn, can go out and touch the world.

So tonight, throw some extra spinach in the salad and when you go to kill that spider in your bathroom, say a little pray of gratitude for all your super attributes.

.

Twenty Minute Letter

It's been several weeks since I've had the time to sit and write.  My part-time job has swelled to full time this last few weeks.  So, as I put the timer on for the girls to do their 20 minutes of reading, I have just that long to type out a few thoughts.
And, as luck would have it, I've drawn a blank.  I could share about the changes at work, the ongoing cycle of confusion with trying to get my eldest daughter tested for a learning disability, or other challenges we've been facing.  But, at the end of the day, it's just parts of life that others may or may not want to hear about.
So, now with 9 minutes to go, I will bang out a letter of gratitude for your willingness to indulge me by reading these simple words.

Dear Reader,

Thanks for caring enough to hear me out.  It brings a smile to my face to think that someone may find encouragement in my stories. 

I will be the first to admit that I am simple.  My thought are usually not profound, but I hope that they (in some small way) reflect the awesome God that I serve. 

It's easy for me to get overwhelmed and frustrated, and I sometimes need to be reminded about the privileges and blessings that surround me.

When my life has come to an end, I hope that my legacy will be one of love, trust and friendship.  I pray that those who have been touched by my life will carry these traits to their own circle of influence.

So until we meet again--whether on-line, by phone, over the radio, or in person, may the Lord bless you and keep you and cause His face to shine upon you and give you peace.

In Him,
Birga

The Little Things I'm Thankful For

In reading through my friend's blogs/updates, I often feel a bit ashamed that I ever waste my breath on complaints.  They are dealing with cancer and seizures.  They are sometimes in parts of this world that are being ravaged by war.  They have lost jobs, loved ones and hope.  It's a reminder that I need some perspective.  Any problems that happen in this family seem piddly in comparison. 

I thought today that I'd take a few moment to reflect on the positives that often go overlooked.  Not to understate my gratitude for the big things, like marriage, children, health and home--but this small blip in cyberspace is dedicated to the little things that make like enjoyable.

I'm thankful for:
Couches.  Can you image not having a soft area to collapse into?
Toothbrushes. Self explanatory
Sunshine.  I often don't think about it until it's gone, but I couldn't hack it in Seattle.
Feta cheese.  It stinks and has a bite, but boy does it taste good.
Costco.  Sample days are pure genius.
Superheros.  I never want to forget how to dream bigger than myself.
Backpacks.  Sometimes I just don't want to carry a purse.
Music.  Pick an emotion, and I'll find you a song to cater to it.
Indoor plumbing.  1750 probably looked and smelled much different.
Lego people.  They just make me smile.
Fences.  I like my neighbors, but boundaries are a good thing.
Microwaves.  Cook, reheat, defrost, timers--what doesn't it do?
Magnets.  You'd be amazed at just how many of your daily items use them.
Spellcheck.  It saves me from sounding (reading) like an idiot.
Chai tea.  So soothing.
Windows.  Literal or metaphorical--take your pick.
Cars.  Another item that we don't think about until it's out of gas or broken.  Can you imagine life without it?

Feel free to add to the list.  It does your heart good when you take the time to look around and evaluate all that you take for granted and just how many blessings you really can count.

The Pain of Change

I posted this a few days back on my work blog, but thought I'd share it here as well.

Stagnation is defined by dictionary.com as:

  /stægˈneɪʃən/

1. the state or condition of stagnating, or having stopped, as by ceasing to run or flow

2. a foulness or staleness, as one emanating from a standing pool of water.

3. a failure to develop, progress, or advance

4. the state or quality of being or feeling sluggish and dull

I definitely don't want a stagnant life. But, as I see it, stagnation is only avoided by change--allowing yourself to "go with the flow". And therein lies the problem. Change can be painful.

Typically, as we grow older, we become more set in our ways. In the last 10 years of my life, there has been a remarkable shift from my desperation for change, to a current fear of being shaken. As a young stay-at-home mom, I remember a feeling of hopelessness that things would never change. I couldn't see beyond the sleepless nights, diapers, and feedings. Desperate for any sign of change, I would re-arrange furniture just to have the appearance of something different.

Now, a decade later, change doesn't much appeal to me. Moving to a new home or job seems like an overwhelming prospect. As my children grow, it's a delight to watch them mature, but it is becoming increasingly difficult to help them work through their problems (academically or socially) that are increasingly complex.

Yesterday, I got one of those painful reminders about just how inflexible I have become. Within a matter of a few hours, I was called "uptight" and "an old fuddy duddy". Keep in mind that I haven't even hit 35 yet! I think there is little question that I have become stagnant.

So today, though my mind races and that fear of the uncertain knocks at the door, I'm going to try to open the flood gates. It's time to purge my foulness and staleness. I want to develop in my personal and work life. I want to see a forward progression and advancement beyond where I stand now.

Having woken at 3:45 this morning, I'm feeling both sluggish and dull, however I opt not to stay there. While I'm a long way off from a Gumby-like flexibility, I can start with some small steps today. I will choose to look to the future, and trust that the Lord has a good plan for me. I may not have the vision to understand why or how the speed bumps and detours can be used for my benefit, but I know that they can be. Our God is a good and faithful God. We just have to trust that His eternal perspective is infinitely more complex then our finite understanding of the here and now.

John 7:38 Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.

There's red, and then there's RED!

I've been missing my grandfather lately.  He was a rough and tough man, but there were the little quirky things he said and did to let me know that I was loved, even if he couldn't/wouldn't say so.  This photo is now several years old, but I wanted to post it, because it is the best illustration I have of the thought I am pondering today.

In this photo is myself (in the blue), my cousin (in the brown) and my sister (the only woman left).  We're in the shade, so our hair color isn't true to life.  But my cousin Lauren has RED hair.  The kind of red that makes you pause and watch her when she walks by.  It's stunning.  I have a much lighter shade of red (my dad says strawberry blond).

Opa (what we called my grandfather) would often call Lauren "Red".  Every once in a while, he'd use the nickname for me also, but never when the two of us were together.  If anyone gets to claim that title, it's Lauren!

Anyway, over the last few months, my husband has been very cute, in letting me see what would happen if he were to grow his hair a little longer.  It's a little messy, but I love it.  He's endured a bit of ribbing from the guys at work, but keeps it that way because I think he looks so darn good.

During a hair discussion one afternoon, he asked me what I would think about going "Lauren red".  First off, I have to make clear that I have never dyed my hair--not even highlights.  So, the prospect of changing my hair color makes me nervous. 

While I absolutely love Lauren's hair (and have often been jealous of it), the thought of trying my hand at being a RED head gives me pause.  Do I try it because Bob wants to see what it looks like?  I guess in the back of my mind, my biggest fear is that I will come out of the experience with hair resembling the color of Twizzlers.  While I'm a candy fiend, and don't want to look like it!

My heart is always to please my husband, so I may just need to put my nerves aside and go for it.  But, if over the next few weeks you see me and the hair color didn't come out quite right, remember that I did it for love, and not for vanity.

You vs. Me

Do you ever come across an article or story that is so refreshingly honest that you want to stand up and cheer?  Last week, an article was submitted to me, written by Gena Suarez, publisher of "The Old Schoolhouse Magazine" http://thehomeschoolmagazine.com/.  In her willingness to expose herself to readers, she shared that she often times doesn't have it very together.  The house may be a mess, and she reported that there are many a day, that she is as well.

I was so refreshed by her candor, that I asked to do an interview with her (which took place this morning).  We discussed just how terrible the cycle of comparison can be for women.  I may feel guilty because I don't home school my kids like that mom, and she in turn may feel pressured because she doesn't do some of the things I do.  It's the ultimate example of trying to "keep up with the Joneses" though the eye of envy may not focus on the "stuff" but on the task list of the mom in question.

It seems that women set themselves upon the scales, daily weighing their effectiveness or accomplishments, based on where they rank compared to "her".  While the men may tease each other on anything from sexual prowess to athleticism and salary, we ladies look each other up and down and compare (or rate) ourselves on comparative haircuts, right down to the shoes.

So, in honor of Gena, and the spirit of setting free the woman's bondage of comparison, I will expose some (not all) of my dirty little secrets!

*My children do not bathe daily.  In fact, it probably only happens twice a week.
*I hate changing clothes so much, that I will often avoid exercising because I don't want the hassle of dressing and redressing.  I have been known to nap in shoes.
*I only cook 2 meals a week.  My husband and I routinely play the game: Find what's oldest in the fridge, and eat it before it spoils.
*I crave validation and/or feedback.  I get sad if people don't comment on my Facebook posts.
*I hire a dear friend (who needs the work) to clean my house two times a month. 
*I have a list of projects waiting to be done from when we moved in.  It's been 7 years.
*Towels and sheets don't get washed very often.
*I can't iron.  My husband does it for me.
*I will choose sleep over any other pass time, if given the option.
*I am such a bad speller, I question if I could pass a 5th grade spelling test.
*I don't stay trim because I have a stellar diet and routine exercise pattern, it's just luck and genetics.
*I'm cheep, real cheep.
*I may have learned to contain my angry outbursts at my children, but several times a week, I can't stand being with them because of their behavior.

So, lest anyone think that I have it all together, this is just a small sampling of the reality of me.  I can't promise that I won't be jealous when I see you at Target, and you and your children look beautiful and rested.  But, I'll do my best to remember that you have your struggles too.

Ladies, let's cut ourselves and each other a little slack.  Let's be honest and compassionate.  And let us refuse to judge each other (or ourselves) on the scale of you vs. me.