That Glorious Chagrin

Some of you know the sensation of which I speak.

It's that unmistakable slurry of joy, awe, embarrassment and thankfulness you are overwhelmed by when you see God has granted you something beyond what you dared pray.

We are presently reveling in it, our souls singing beneath our ducked heads.

It's difficult to speak of such things because I don't want to sound as if I'm bragging. Yet, the goodness we find ourselves saddled with is not the result of our own actions so telling of it isn't boasting.

We have been blessed (such a trite word, but there's no suitable substitute) with a fantastic house in an area in which I never dreamed of living.

It's like back when I was in high school and I just knew I'd never be elected Homecoming Queen.

I was right.

It never happened.

But this thing that I knew would never happen, did happen.

Last January, we sold our house within four days of putting it on the market. We promptly moved in with my gracious mom and lived several weeks with her in her 55+ community while looking for another house to buy. It was a very frustrating process, putting in good offers just to be told that we'd been outbid. That happened about 13 times!

But when we got this house, it was all worth the wait and the wondering, the frustration, even worth the weeks of driving 10 miles an hour through the retirement community.

Here we are, "playing croquet" on our extensive front lawn which Jeff has dubbed "The Mustache" for obvious reasons.

(Yes, we wanted a little, itty-bitty yard! It was with great joy that we sold our mower and weed eater. Oh, and by the way, these photos are supposed to be silly even though we look rather serious in them.)

So now we bask in that glorious chagrin, thankful that God knows our needs and meets them beautifully, in spite of our frailties and doubts.

Thank You, Jesus!

Jesus Will Disappoint You If...

...you have a custom-made agenda for Him.

Lately, I've been learning the lesson that I have very little power. I know that's contrary to what the world is constantly trying to pep us up with.

Empowerment!    You can do ANYTHING!    Wish upon a star, people!

I won't go so far as to call these lies because I think the people spouting them probably believe them and have good intentions, but alas, I fear they are misguided.

I mean, think about it...what do I truly have power over?

*insert thoughtful whistle*

Me.

Little ole me.

Yep. That's about it.

I can choose to make myself be kind, choose to make myself seek wisdom, choose to make myself exercise, and choose to make myself think before I act.

But even in all of that, I don't have total control.

If I get some horrible disease, it's not likely to be my fault because I live a very healthy lifestyle. Still, I can't make sure it doesn't happen. No matter how vigilant of a driver I am, I could still accidentally change lanes right under the carriage of a semi truck on the freeway. That certainly wouldn't be on purpose.

Even in rudimentary ways, I don't have complete control over myself.

Several months ago (on my birthday, in fact) I was under a lot of stress from different sources, but there was one in particular that was infuriating me. I knew what was best for a situation (I don't say that sarcastically because I really DID know what was best and important in that situation), but the only person who had any power to change anything about it was unwilling. It was to their detriment and the solution was so simple, yet they refused. My frustration with them and anger with my own impotence was so great that I kinda, sorta, most definitely... flipped out.

I was in the shower (home alone, thank God) and I started screaming...and screaming...and screaming.

Stupid?

Yes.

Embarrassing?

Mm hmm. (Even though no one was around to witness it.)

Stress relieving?

Oh, yeah.

Would I recommend it?

Not as a regular part of one's routine.

I didn't want to do it, but just like the build up of steam in a kettle will make it scream, so (occasionally) will a build up of frustration and stress in me.

I had been praying for months about that situation, asking God what my role was to fix it. Obviously, I didn't get an answer that was as effective as I wanted and the result was a soapy, dripping, enraged me, screeching my lungs out in an echoing, slippery, closet-sized area.

I was disappointed. Ear piercingly so.

You see, I had an agenda for Jesus. I wanted Him to show me how I could change another person's will. I wanted for me and Him to be a tag team of sorts and dually show this person the error of their ways so that their own life would be improved for THEIR sake. (I wasn't even being selfish!)

That didn't happen.

After my squeaky clean shriek fest, I realized that something needed to change, not in the other person because that clearly wasn't happening, but something in me. I needed to think differently if I was going to carry on, if I was going to be healthy in mind and vocal chords.

I acknowledged that I'd been trying to do something which I was powerless to do and I'd expected God to do something He never promised to do. God will not violate the free wills which He has granted us, not yours, not mine and not *insert name of person presently frustrating you here*'s.

The main point of Jesus's ministry was to save us from sin...our own personal sin, not the sins of others. Neither did He ever make any promises that His incarnation, death and resurrection would ensure my good relationships with friends and family members, nor my body's good health nor the realization of my career aspirations, etc.

When we think He has promised us those things, we are wrong and that's where we get disappointed.

That's what some of Jesus's disciples wanted. I can just hear them after Christ delivered His difficult teaching in John 6:53-58.

"What's all this about eating His flesh and living forever? I came for the snacks and good times, not this bizarre mumbo jumbo. I'm out." (This is my very loose paraphrase of John 6:60 & 66.)

So is Jesus enough?

It depends on what you want Him for.

To help you live a somewhat dignified and wise life in the midst of all the poo that cosmic apes sling your way?

Yes; He is enough for that.

Is He enough to make all of your wildest dreams (and some of your mundane dreams) come true?

He certainly hasn't promised to be.

You may have to vote for Pedro for that:

Hmmm...he is quite the orator, but somehow I doubt he'd deliver....

We Regret to Inform You...

A friend recently told me that she coveted my life. This made me wonder if I'm being transparent enough. I am incredibly thankful for the great things in my life, but I have my share of problems, some of which are gut wrenching. However, since most of my problems involve other people and I am a firm believer in not airing dirty laundry inappropriately (like on this very blog), then I can see how there might appear to be a dearth of trials and tribulations en la vie d'Aimee.

So here you go... a post about one trial I'm facing that I can let flap in the breeze because it centers entirely on my own insecurities and lameness with nary a glimpse of a malign-able person anywhere.

I applied for a job recently.

It seemed like the perfect job for me: the hours were in the middle of the school day so I could still take my kids to school and pick them up afterward; it was in a library where I've always liked the idea of being employed and there was no experience required.

When I saw this job become available, I couldn't help but think it might be my answer to a recent prayer. You see, with Jeff's promotion (for which we are extremely grateful) came the realization that he will no longer be working overtime which means a drop in funds. The overtime he used to be required to work provided cash for all those extras like vacations, regular oil changes in the cars and extra curricular activities for the kids. (Okay, I realize that second one isn't technically an extra, but you see what I'm saying.)

The logical conclusion was for me to get a job, nothing major, just a few hours a week so that Delaney can take the sign language classes in which she is interested and to ensure that we will be able to fly out to Tobias's graduation from basic training next September. Those things aren't necessary to sustain life but they're still important, quite important.

So I started looking and saw this library paraprofessional job opening. I drove over and picked up an application.

This is where my insecurities kicked in. I have a lot of life experience, but very little employment experience. Filling out an application is somewhat embarrassing when you have to hearken back to your time in a sandwich shop TWENTY years ago. Like my former boss would even remember me!

So yes, I have a college degree and yes, I'm a reasonably intelligent person who can learn new skills and yes, I've successfully managed a home for the past 19+ years, but SO WHAT?

After turning in my seemingly-paltry application, I was scheduled to take a test. So several days later, I showed up at the appointed computer lab with about 12 other women who all looked like they also finally have kids old enough to allow old mom to venture out into the workforce. Looking around, summing up my competition, I was disappointed to see that an actual librarian from our local branch was there applying for the same job as the rest of us.  

Arghhh...there goes that! I thought.

I took the test anyway which consisted of a typing test (I average about 50-55 words per minute with a 98% accuracy) and a barrage of multiple choice library-related questions, some of which were completely inane like "True or False: You must know the author personally in order to be able to check out a book they've written at the library." Seriously?

Needless to say, I did well on both portions of the test.

However, as expected, I received a letter in the mail a few weeks later which said something like, "We regret to inform you that you were not selected for an interview for the position for which you applied."

Ho, hum...

Evaluating how I'm thinking and feeling, I'm not sure that it's the loss of this particular job that is so frustrating to me. It might be more rejection in general.

I'm sorry if I sound like a whiny baby, but I've had plenty of rejection in my life.

Since junior high I've pursued a number of friendships with people who didn't reciprocate. And I'm not talking about people with whom I was trying to "get in good" to secure my own social success; I'm talking about people who I just genuinely found interesting and enjoyable. (Although, looking at some of the truly scary photos of me at age 12 probably explains a lot.)

I've never had a single poem published in a reputable poetry journal though I've submitted them again and again. (See my "poetry" category to the right under "Labels" if you so desire to determine if they're publishable.)

I've applied for a number of jobs over the years and most of the time have hardly been given a second glance.

Then there are many other examples of rejection that strike a little too close to my heart for me to declare so publicly so I will  refrain from referring to them.

Okay, I know I know I KNOW that this kind of thing happens to everybody and the things I'm complaining about probably seem quite shallow compared to what nine-tenths of the rest of humanity is dealing with. I also know that if it is truly important for me to get a job at this point then God will provide an even more suitable one.

BUT,  I'm just being honest that I am discouraged.

And I am tired of being rejected.

THE END

A Plea for Prudence

Recently, a friend of mine asked if the new church fellowship we were attending was part of the emergent church. (Someone had told her that it was.)

I confess that I'm not even sure what her query meant. I mean, there's no official Emergent Church Registry Book for churches to sign, right?

If I understand recent church history accurately, the "emergent church" is a loose term referring to a group of people who are attempting to make the gospel more "palatable" to non church goers by compromising foundational beliefs. (Don't quote me on that.) If mine is a fair statement, then the answer to my friend's question is, "Absolutely not".

However, I suspect that the term "emergent church" has evolved into a phrase that some people slap onto other fellowships whose worship practices seem unfamiliar, whose ways of doing things make them uncomfortable.

Different=Bad

Of course, when we see the above equation typed out, our reasonable minds can dismiss it as silly and narrow-minded, but the subconscious tendency to actually believe it is embedded deeply within.

It's called xenophobia and we all suffer from it to one degree or another.

I do acknowledge that some of the goings-on at our new fellowship would possibly make some more conservative members of Christ's Body uneasy. For example, recently a woman shared her story with the congregation on a Sunday morning. It was one of the most powerful and helpful testimonies I've ever heard.

You can listen to it yourself here. (The whole message is excellent, but if you only have time for the testimony, it begins around the 22 1/2 minute mark.)

Basically,  Lisa was a Christian who decided to stop suppressing the homosexual desires she felt but after years of pursuing that lifestyle she decided she would rather, "Walk with God and struggle with homosexuality than walk in homosexuality and struggle with God". Therefore, she has chosen celibacy and over the years has experienced the restoration of being able to minister to others in spite of discouragement from many Christian quarters. (My description doesn't do this amazing story justice. I strongly encourage you to hear her tell it in her own words.)

Lisa's story is applicable to us all, whatever our individual struggles may be: We walk with God and struggle with sin or walk in sin and struggle with God. Some people are uncomfortable with the acknowledgement of homosexuality and might, in hushed tones, inform others that "That church allows homosexuals to speak from the pulpit".

(Technically, the statement could be considered correct, but its many implications would not be.)

Anyone hearing that sentence uttered might suppose that our fellowship is a place of compromise where leaders invite certain guest speakers in hopes of fitting into modern society, to "get with the times", so to speak. However, those suppositions would be ill-founded, advancing dissonance and inaccuracy. (At no point in the message was homosexual activity condoned.)

That is what this post is really about, not a defense of my new fellowship, but rather a somewhat inarticulate plea that we would be less apt to make assumptions.

Yes, I am speaking to myself. I have been guilty countless times of speaking authoritatively concerning matters about which I knew little. I'm sure I have planted seeds of speciousness and confusion in many minds with my thoughtless comments. I have slapped labels onto people and organizations so that I could mentally dismiss them, therefore "protecting" and "justifying" myself.

I repent.

Unfortunately, I know I'll have to repent on this point many more times before my substance is dustily settled in its urn.

I'm not suggesting we oughtn't stand up and speak out against erroneous statements and actions which we witness in the world and the Church around us. I'm merely stating that it is important that we be educated and prudent while doing so.

My Lenten Epiphany

It's only in the past few years that I've become aware of Lent. Not having grown up in a religious household, I knew nothing of it as a child. Though I became a Christian at age 12, I have been involved in a denomination which never references the season, at least not that I can recall.

I enjoy hearing what people partaking in Lent decide to give up and why. However, though I've considered it many times, I've never taken part in it myself.

My reason?

Pride.

This is in no way a pronouncement on others who do observe Lent, but I've just known for myself that if I succeeded in the 40 days of abstinence from *fill in the blank* that I would feel... 

...quite proud of myself.

Um, who does that sound like?

Hmmmm...could it be... 

...Satan?

Where's the spiritual value in feeling like Lucifer right before he was cast out of God's presence?

Happily, today I had a Lenten epiphany that has given me a new and valuable perspective. It was spawned by the words of a pastor. He said something to the effect of: "It is good to exercise the 'say-no-to-self' muscle because sometimes it is very important to say no to yourself."

Hmmm...yeah. Lives are regularly ruined when people don't choose to say no to themselves.

Several times a week, I jog, but not because I enjoy it. In fact, I can honestly say (in a very whiny voice) that I don't enjoy it. Sure, there is a small sense of pride when I'm finished with the three miles of bad attitude, but that's not my motivation. Rather, I know it's important to exercise all the muscles involved in the somewhat distasteful process so that they continue to function well. I want to be healthy physically. So, too, do I want to be healthy spiritually.

Remember this guy?

He was the captain of the spaceship in the movie, WALL-E. He was piloting an entire city-sized-craft of people who thought they never had to say no to themselves.

Maybe it's a bit silly of me to reference a fictional work to prove a realistic point, but I thought the movie-makers did an excellent job of showing us in an amusing manner where people who have no sense of self-denial can end up: planet-less, weighing 500 pounds and having lost the ability to walk across a room.


I do believe that I could now observe the season of prohibition for a right reason (and not feel like the Father of Lies afterward).

Will I? And if so, in what manner will I deny myself?

I'll get back to you on that...

;)

Ruing the Day

A couple of years ago, I happened upon a very entertaining blog by a woman who lives somewhere out there in Cyberville. Her posts were witty and full of great photos which she had taken herself. It was good stuff. Additionally, I was impressed by her honesty and straightforwardness. I became a regular reader.


After a while, I began to wonder if she was sharing too much. What she had to say about other people often painted them in a bad light. Of course, I didn't know these people (though I saw what they looked like from her prodigious supply of pics), but lots of people who read her blog did know these people. Her life wasn't a sit-com or a drama where we could all watch and feel fine about our intense feelings for the different "characters". These were real people who didn't have an effective way of answering for themselves if they felt misrepresented.


Anyway, one day I was greatly saddened to read a post in which she referred to her teenage son as an ***hole and a ****head. Now, I don't for one instant doubt that those were the words that popped into her mind when he committed whatever nefarious act upset her so much and I'm not saying there's never a time for her to share that sentiment with a couple of close friends, but to declare it on her public blog?!?!

I am a huge believer in acknowledging reality. I find it vital to think about and discuss many issues even if they are uncomfortable or distasteful.

Not, however, in any situation nor in any manner.

There are times when the recognition of subjects is inappropriate. For example, if doing so will result in an unnecessary burden for the hearer, then what is the point? Also, we need to consider who ought to hear the things we say since it can be very destructive to involve others needlessly.

This notion greatly influences what I write about here. I realize that readers who don't know me well may come here and get the idea that I live a nearly perfect life without trial nor tribulation. That is not at all the perception that I want to give. However, due to the completely public nature of this blog (anyone with internet access can come here, though not many actually do!) I don't lay out all my issues for others to see.

Why?

It's primarily because most of my problems have to do with people and I don't deem it appropriate to fill your computer screen with my own one-sided dirt.

Take my children, for instance. They are wonderful and I love them more than life itself. However, my relationships with them are regularly upsetting. I'm not denying that reality by not including details of these trials here for you all to see. In fact, I often would like to type up some situation because I think it could be helpful to other parents to read about my experiences. Yet, I am very cautious in doing so.

The reason: I value my relationships with my kids and I don't want to jeopardize them. Whenever I include something about my kids (or my husband) here and I wonder if it will embarrass or offend them, I ask them to read it over before I hit the 'publish' button. I ask them, "Do you mind if I share this? Do you feel I represented you fairly?"

Then, according to their answer, I may or may not alter the post.

Again, the issue isn't: "Is what I'm sharing true?" but rather: "Is my sharing of this appropriate?"

Once my kids are grown and off enjoying their own adventures in parenting, I may very well write a book about our previous years together full of lots of amusing and/or distressing illustrations. Now, however, we are still in the midst of it and I don't deem it proper to do so.

Once you have declared something, you can't undeclare it. You can deny it. You can apologize for it. You can even claim temporary insanity...

...but it'll still be stuck in the minds of everyone who heard or read your original proclamation.

A few years back, someone I love very much appeared to be making (what I considered to be) a huge mistake. In my intense desire to keep "Pat" (do you like how I'm using a unisex name to help maintain this person's anonymity?) from making this beyond-a-minor-blunder, I decided to be honest...ferociously honest.

I explained what I saw as a likely outcome on the road Pat was treading. To add credence to the reasonableness of my opinion, I included references to some of Pat's past blunders and present foibles.

It was not a pleasant conversation. It was not a conversation that I wanted to have. I looked and sounded like a first class witch and I knew it.

The only reason why I was willing to say what I said was because I sincerely love Pat and thought that my ruthless onslaught of reality could save him/her from an even more intense heartache than what I was presently inflicting.

Well, my friends, I regret a lot about that situation. Sadly, I believe that I will until my dying day.

Yes, what I said to Pat was true and my intentions were excellent, but those aren't inherently good reasons for saying just anything.

Thank God it was a private conversation. Publicity would have exponentially compounded the problems resulting from my savage dose of honesty.

Now, with all this said, I acknowledge that there is most definitely a time and a place for us to go to war verbally in both private and public settings. We just need to make sure it's the correct time before doing so...

...or there will be regrets.

The Shunned Ground Beef and Other Questionable Good Deeds

I went to the bank yesterday. Just as I climbed out of my car, I noticed a homeless guy next to the bank's door.

He wasn't standing, looking as if he was about to walk away. He was sitting there, leaning up against a pillar looking about as comfortable as a person can when their back is pressed up against bumpy stucco.

Hoping I looked unstartled and natural, I walked toward the grocery store in the same lot although I originally had no plans of going there.

I've encountered this particular man before. He asked for money then. I bought him an ice cream instead.

Sitting outside of a bank is a pretty good idea if money is what you want. You know that people either have money when they're going in or they're going to when they come out.

Jeff and I decided long ago that we wouldn't hand out money to people who ask for it since we don't want to fund anyone's drug or drink addiction. However, we usually offer food to them since we hate the idea of a person's basic needs not being met.

We've bought a lot of hamburgers over the years.

Years ago, when I was in college, Jeff and I emerged from the grocery store to be accosted by a man who asked us for cash. He launched into a story about how his kids were hungry and he needed just enough money to buy some ground beef for their dinner.

It just so happened that the market was having a sale on ground beef that day and I had bought three individual packets of it. Reaching into one of my bags, I pulled one out and handed it to the man.

The look on his face was priceless. It was clear that he wouldn't be using the hungry kids/ground beef story again. I practically had to force it on him.

Amused, Jeff said, "You'd better get home and cook that up before it goes bad on you." (Hey, we don't normally laugh at those who are less fortunate than us, but when we catch them in their own lie, it's kind of hard not to.)

A few months ago, I was coming out of a grocery store that I don't usually shop at and I was approached by a young man who actually asked for food instead of money. I told him to meet me over at Jack in the Box on the corner and I'd get him something. He ran off to "tell his brother" and I continued toward my car with my bags of groceries.

Once I got to my car, another guy shuffled up to me and asked for some money. He was a lot older and scraggly looking. I told him that I'd buy him a burger and to meet me over at Jack in the Box. Then I quickly got into my car, wondering how many more people were eyeing me from around the parking lot.

(Here's where I must tell you that although I am genuinely glad to feed a hungry person, I'm quite intimidated by panhandlers. They're usually men and even though they may have missed a few meals and slept poorly the night before, they could probably still floor me with one blow. I really hate it when I take out my wallet to pay for their meal and they can see a couple of twenties peeking out. For all I know, they're just scoping me out so that they can grab my bag later. Therefore, I do try to be wise about 'helping' them and not compromise my own safety.)

So...as I drove my car over to JITB, I decided to just go through the drive-through and hand them their bags of food out of my car window. Once I ordered the food, I was told to pull around to the parking lot and that it'd be brought out to me when it was ready. From where I parked, I could see Old-Timer inside the restaurant, waiting for me to show up. He waited several minutes and then erupted out the front door, loudly complaining, '"That #$@&* said she was gonna buy me a burger!"

Just as he finished spewing that forth, he looked up and saw me, sitting there with my window down. His face fell.

I'd like to say that my response was, "It's on it's way, Sir" complete with a sweet smile, but...

...I'm not a liar.

What I actually said was something like, "I'm the #$@&* who said she'd buy you a burger and if you stick around, you just might get it."

(Yes, well, not one of my finer moments...)

I instantly regretted it.

Poor guy. He looked so embarrassed by his actions and my reaction.

I understand that he was grossly disappointed. He had been told he was getting some lunch that day and then after waiting several fruitless minutes, he assumed he'd been lied to and that his stomach would remain empty.

When the food finally came, he humbly thanked me several times. In the meantime, the original food-wanter showed up with his brother and burgers were had by all as I drove away cringing and repenting.

By far, the weirdest panhandling experience I had was at the dentist's office. Sitting in the waiting room while one of my kids was getting worked on, I noticed a girl, about 12, come in and sit down. She didn't check in at the desk and she wasn't with an adult, all of which struck me as odd. Well, it was about to get very strange, indeed.

After a couple of moments, she made her way over to the seat next to me and sat down. Looking at me, she began to whisper.

"What?" I asked.

She whispered again.

"If you want me to hear you, you'll have to speak up."

A third time she began to speak to me, still very quietly. "Will you give me some money so that I can go to Radio Shack and buy something?"

Who was this girl, why was she at the dentist office and where were her parents???

Totally confused, I said something like, "No, if you were hungry, I'd get you something to eat, but I'm not going to give you money."

Understanding dawned on her face. "Well...I am hungry."

Right...

Not wanting to make a liar out of myself, I walked with her over to Jack in the Box (yep, the very same one) and bought her (you guessed it!) a hamburger. She said she wanted a soda, too, but my motherly sensibilities kicked in and I told her she could have milk or OJ if she was thirsty.

Looking back, I see how poorly I handled that whole situation. I taught a neglected girl that if she goes begging for money at a dentist office, she'll end up getting a free meal. Who knows how many creeps would take advantage of her odd, needy behavior. Yuck. (I found out later that she lived in an apartment right next to the dental office.)

All of this takes me back to the guy out in front of the bank yesterday. He was gone once I returned from my impromptu shopping trip.

When I told Jeff about what had happened, he said, "Why didn't you just buy him a sandwich at the market and then when you went into the bank and he asked for money, you could have pulled it out and said, 'Here you go!'?"

Hmmm...somehow that didn't occur to me. My brain seems to flip over and play dead whenever I'm getting hit up for money.

All of this is to say what exactly?

I'm not sure. I'm just thinking about needy people and what my response to them should be. I want to be helpful, but I also don't want to give them opportunity to harm me or themselves. I want to be kind but sometimes I end up fouling my normally hygenic mouth. I want to care for an odd preteen girl and afterward I fear that I've taught her to be too trusting of strangers.

It all makes me so thankful for God's grace and it's sufficiency. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

If I was trying to make my way to heaven through my own goodness, I might end up at Jack in the Box.

Thoughts on Trials

Why did God allow this? is an age-old question that has many seemingly unsatisfactory answers for its questioners. Well, here I offer you yet another:

When a Christian becomes a parent, she gains a whole new perspective on her relationship with God. For the past 14 years, I've understood what it is to love someone more than myself, even when that someone sometimes behaves like an ungrateful brat. (I'm thankful that those times are few and far between.) As I am to my children, God is to me. Likewise, as my children are to me, I am to God.

The comparisons between me and a sometimes ungrateful brat could fill a very long post, but I want to focus on just one. It all comes down to this: What is important to me is important to God, but He knows the grander scheme.

Take shots for example. When I took my kids to get inoculated, I knew they were horrified when the overly-cheerful nurse brandished her long sharp needle. My heart hurt with them as the reality sunk in that that needle was going to pierce their tender flesh. And yet, I didn't stop it from happening. (I hope I don't lose you non-immunizers on this one.) As a mom, I knew that their terror was genuine, yet I could see the bigger picture. Their moment of horror would result in protection from Mumps, Measles and Rubella.

Another example: when my kids were babies, I would sometimes let them cry in their cribs for awhile. The hope was (and the result was) that they would learn how to fall asleep on their own and if a few tears needed to fall, then I was willing to allow that. (Now, I don't want to digress into a debate on parenting techniques. If you are the type to pick up your baby at a mere whimper, then I won't admonish you for that. I just knew that that wasn't going to work for us.)

Was my decision based on cruelty and heartlessness? No. I loved my babies more than anyone and their sadness struck me deeply, but I truly believed that their momentary sadness and loneliness would result in the abilities to be comfortable in aloneness and to fall asleep independantly. I didn't sit outside the nursery door cursing them nor mocking them because of their cries. I was genuinely sad with them and yet I focused on the bigger picture, allowing that to affect my interference or non-interference.

I propose that when we adults face trials which set us atremble, it is essentially no different from when little children face inoculations or a lonely half hour in the crib. God is there, allowing it, but He believes and understands our authentic terror or sadness.

I feel a bit lame typing this since the trials I've faced in my life have been of a rather mild nature, but remember, I entitled this post "Thoughts on Trials", not "Facts on All Trials Everywhere".

For me there is great comfort supposing that my tribulations are perhaps not as dire in reality as they may seem to be in my own limited mind.

John 16:33
2 Corinthians 4:17

Render Unto Caesar What Is Caesar's...

...even if it seems like it's actually yours.

Anybody else doing taxes today? I'm scrambling to get ours done before the government gives our refund over to any bank CEO or floundering car company.

I've been at it now for about four hours and the end is in sight. Let's just hope I did it right.

I was actually having a pretty good time with it until I noticed that a miscalculation of mine had nearly tripled our actual refund. Ah, well...at least we don't owe anything...

My favorite line of the day is:

If line 10 is equal to or more than line 11, enter the amount from line 7 on line 13 and go to line 14.

Am I the only one giggling? (Perhaps I'm just illogically giddy from all the mathematics and stress.)

An Exhausting and Disheartening Pursuit

Whilst studying a book I've read many times before, a verse hit me in a fresh way. It's quite beautiful really.

"But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by a human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. For I know of nothing against myself, yet I am not justified by this; but He who judges me is the Lord." 1 Corinthians 4:3 & 4

This brought a thoughtful smile to my face.

You see, a few years ago, I nearly drove myself mad by judging myself.

Being a naturally introspective person, I was continually scrutinizing my thoughts and actions to the extreme. Aimee, what are your primary motivations? Did you really mean that? Are your intentions truly pure?

An Example:

Years ago I was asked to join a worship team which would require me to sing in front of a few hundred people on Sunday mornings. I prayed about it (good). I thought about the practicalities of it (good). I discussed it with Jeff to get his take on how my involvement would affect our family (good). I examined my attitudes and thoughts about being in such an upfront position (good). Then, I began to mull over all the possible, likely and unlikely, effects that could result from my service on the team (um...still sort of good). Soon, I was unduly focusing (this is where I went downhill) on every little inkling of bad that was already in me or could spring up in me through this venture (primarily pride). Because I saw slight potential for sin, I declined joining the team.

It would have been one thing if I had a history of getting ridiculously puffed up from similar situations, but I'd been on multiple worship teams before without any truly problematic results.

In my attempts to keep bad from happening, I neglected to do good.

My motivations were good. I craved purity, sincerity...holiness. So where was the problem?

Examination vs. Dissection

Scripture does tell us to examine ourselves to determine if we have a genuine faith in Christ (2 Corinthians 13:28) and when we partake of Communion (1 Corinthians 11:28).

However, what I was doing was dissecting myself.

Examination explores something. Dissection dismantles the same thing, rendering it useless.

Doomed for Failure

Any time my mind is preoccupied with thoughts of myself, I'm going to be confronted with possible scenarios of sin and weakness. Whenever I mentally dissect my motivations for my various actions, I'm going to find at least a little yuckiness here and there. After all, I'm a sinner!

Examining myself realistically is sometimes necessary, yet if immoderate self-judgment is leaving me paralyzed, then it's not achieving that which proper reflection ought.

The Actual Judge

"...He who judges me is the Lord." 1 Corinthians 4:4b

and

"Vindicate me, O Lord, for I have walked in my (imperfect and at times waning) integrity. I have also trusted (sometimes) in the Lord; I shall not slip (if You hold me up). Examine me, O Lord, and prove me: Try my (unsteady) mind and my (sinful) heart." Psalm 26:1 & 2 (parenthetics mine)

Judging myself is ultimately exhausting and disheartening. Trusting that God will judge me with His gracious omniscience is strengthening and freeing.

(I think) Corrie Ten Boom said (something kind of like), "Look around and feel oppressed, look within and feel depressed, look to God and be at rest."

Eventually, I got over my paralysis and when asked again to join the same worship team, I agreed, praying that God would help me to not fall into any "traps"...and believe me, all sorts of things happen to keep me humble.

Yellow-Belliedness

I spent countless nights as a child staying as still as possible under my bed covers so as to not attract attention from any monsters who had yet to notice me lying there. Of course, I NEVER let any of my tasty-looking appendages hang over the side of my bed. (I assumed that feet were especially enticing to what ever ominous creature lived under there.)

Fear has long been my unwelcome companion. I could write a huge, long post on my various fears and what I've learned from them over the years, but I don't have that much time today, so I'll share what I've learned through just one of them...

Chicken on Board:

When I was 19, I was in a horrible car accident. The rear tire of the car in which I was traveling at 75 miles an hour blew out and the driver slammed on the brakes. (Tip: DON'T do that. When you have a blow out, just ease off the gas and let the car come to a stop on it's own if possible.) This resulted in us swerving into a freeway center divider, flipping over and spinning on the hood. Miraculously, neither myself nor my two companions were injured. (Volvos are safe, even the twenty-five year old, laughably ugly ones.)

Riding in a car (and other vehicles) was not the same for me after that day. I had lost my ability to be truly at ease when traveling. Hmmm, I thought...cars can crash.

A few years later, on New Year's Eve, I had four year old Tobias and 1 year old Delaney with me when I slid across ice on a mountain road and careened into a muddy snow bank. The auto repair shop had our car for several weeks and I had only had it back for about ten days when it got smashed into by a lady on Valentine's Day. (Another tip: Blinkers lie! Don't believe them.)

I was very scared of driving after these two accidents in just a six week period. I am embarrassed to admit that I didn't sign Tobias up for swimming lessons that summer because I didn't want to drive back and forth to the pool. I was almost at the point where I would only drive to the market and back. (I knew we had to eat!)

Soon, I realized that I had a long life ahead of me and I didn't want it to be limited to the walking distance around my home. Thus, I began to pray, "God, please take this fear away. I don't want to be controlled by it any longer." For months I prayed multiple variations of that prayer (perhaps subconsciously thinking that if I stumbled across just the right verbiage, God would be triggered into action) and found myself increasingly frustrated because I saw no progress.

Why wasn't God answering? It was an honorable desire and I was humble in my requests.

Not From, but Through...

One day, as I climbed into my car, I was praying the latest version of my plea when it struck me that perhaps God wasn't going to deliver me from fear, but rather through fear. My prayer took on a sudden evolution into something like this:

"Father, You know that I am fearful as I back this car out of the driveway and am surrounded by objects with which I will potentially collide. I don't even want to go where I'm headed, but I know I can't live my life that way, so I will go. Please help me to be courageous in spite of my fear and help me to think about what is true and rational, not on what is possible but unlikely."

Since then, I've had multiple opportunities to apply this basic lesson elsewhere. When I am afraid but forging ahead, I know that I am relying on God.

Nine years on, I have grown more at ease sitting in cars, whether behind the wheel or simply as a passenger (although I must confess that each time we pull safely into our garage I celebrate inwardly, thinking, "We made it! No one is injured and our insurance rates won't be going up!").

The Truest Peace

I remember reading a book while I was in junior high (I think it was Shogun) and one small portion spoke very clearly to me.

A Japanese character explained to a visitor to the island nation that he believed there were three parts to each person: the outer man who is known by everyone, the inner man who is known by a few and the innermost man of all who is known only by the man himself.

This struck me as so true...and so sad.

As a young teenager, I felt that my truest self was virtually unknown and on some levels I wanted to stay that way because of what I knew about that self. I felt so alone.

Soon after that, I learned that God (Who is not bound by the same restrictions that we are) did know me. He knew me with all of my hopes, insecurities, joys and questions and what relief to learn that He loved me in spite of my faults and weaknesses.

To know that I am known and loved by my Creator has given me a vital sense of peace. I easily recall what it was to live without that peace and I never want to go back to that state of mind.

Peace with God is the truest peace of all.

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ..." Romans 5:1

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas...

...is the best movie I've seen in a couple of years.



Seriously. It was amazing.

It beautifully shows the Holocaust through the eyes of a child.

The characterization of everyone was easily believable. (Usually my biggest gripe with movies and books is that the characters do or say things that I just can't buy into.)

The cinematography is fabulous. There is no sex and the violence is only implied. The acting is spot on. The plot is riveting. (And I'm quite picky about all these things!) I'm telling you, it's a movie that you must see.

You might be a bit uncomfortable during the first few minutes because it focuses on the happy family of a Nazi Officer, but as the realities of what the Nazis were actually doing become evident, the consequences follow.

It is very sad, but more in a thought provoking way than a fall-apart-in-your-theater-seat way. (I don't enjoy morphing into a sloppy, weeping public display.)

We decided that Tobias is going to see it as soon as it comes out on video, but Delaney's tender little heart is not yet ready to struggle with the realities of the Holocaust.

See it.

'Tis the Season

We've never done the whole Santa thing in our house.

Don't get me wrong...we don't have a personal vendetta against the guy.

We don't wonder at the spiritual maturity of those who hand their kids over to him at the mall for a photo op. We don't find spiritual significance in the fact that if you switch a few letters around in his name then you get "Satan". We do get a guilt-free kick out of silly Christmas movies (such as "Elf") which include the jolly old Northerner. So, as you can see, we're not on a campaign for Santa obliteration.

When the kids were little, we warned them not to ruin the concept of Santa for their friends who do have him as a part of their holiday celebration.

Could you Santa fans please ask your kids to return the favor?

This is the second year that Delaney has been harassed for not believing in him. I've been a witness...

Last year, she had a pal (we'll call her Amber) over to our house after Christmas. The girls were sitting at the kitchen table when Amber (with the utmost patience that a fourth grader could muster) asked:

"Delaney, do you believe in Santa now that Christmas is over?"

D: "Uh...no."

A: "Delaney, I got presents from him. The tags said so. He even gave my mom and dad some things."

D: silence

A: "My parents said he's real and they wouldn't lie."

D: "Uh, I don't really want to talk about it."

A: (The following statement was delivered with piety of the most religious caliber possible.) "Delaney, if you just try then you can believe in him. (sigh) I think you need to think about that."

Well, that was last year. I thought that surely by 5th grade, the faith-filled few would have dwindled down to nil. Oh, no...Santa's evangelists are at it again, trying to browbeat the disbelieving into the kingdom of the North Pole.

Yesterday, Delaney brought home a note from school that had passed between her and another girl.

Other Girl: "If you don't believe in Santa, then why do you draw pictures of him and his reindeer?"

D: "Because it's fun."

OG: "How could you Delaney? How could you not believe in Santa?"

I realize some people consider the idea of Santa as part of the whole magic of Christmas and that's fine, but personally, I think that peace on earth has a bit more sparkle.

Hey Y'all!

I just returned from one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. Although I've been preparing for it for a couple of months now, I didn't mention it here because it was a surprise for a few key people--people who actually read this blog. :)

Some women from my church fellowship and I hopped on a plane and put on a women's retreat for a group of our beloved friends in Kentucky. Although they knew a retreat was going to take place, they didn't know who would be a part of it, so I had to stay silent.

It was so wonderful. I had the honor of leading about 25 women (including a handful of fabulous little girls) in worship. It was beautiful to see all of these women working together, using their gifts and abilities to serve each other and God. Our skills complemented each others' so that everything was accomplished effectively and honorably.

Imagine being with a large group of women for five days and not hearing even the tiniest bit of gossip. That's how wonderful these women are!

God was glorified in the love and concern that everyone showed for each other. His Spirit taught us through the two teachers, Katrina and Joan, helping us to focus on what is truly important in life and to maintain a proper perspective.

Thanks Micky and Brian for hosting me; thank you Charlene for organizing things at your end and carting us around town; thank you Jen and Donna for attending the retreat and hanging out with us; thank you Krista, Sarah and Regina for attending the retreat even though you knew you'd be surrounded by a bunch of women you didn't even know.

On Sunday, we were able to attend a church service at Emmaus Christian Fellowship. I loved seeing that God is working there, blessing the efforts of the people who planted ECF just a year or so ago.

It really was a beautiful time for which I am very thankful.

God is good.

Whether You're Pleased With The Outcome Or Not...

...you have to appreciate the fact that American society has come a long way. Who would have thought even 30 years ago that the American people would elect an African American as president? Our racial bias is at an all-time low and that, my friends, is cool.

Arrrgh...(followed by discontented, indistinguishable muttering)

Because I am tired of wearing the clunky tennis shoes and the starting-to-fall-apart flip flops that I own, I decided to go shoe shopping.

If any of you are squealing delightedly, then you must not understand. You see...I wear a size 9 wide.

You would think that a person of my somewhat miniature stature would be blessed with dainty little feet, but that is not the case.

With fierce resolve, I parked my car in front of a very large warehouse-type shoe store, thinking, "Surely I'll be able to find something in there." (The place was five times the size of my entire house.)

Inside I trod with something close to a spring in my step.

It was wall to wall shoes with cute samples on display. (I've noticed that the display shoes are usually about a size 6. Unfortunately, even the most delightful looking size sixes look considerably less charming once they are blown up into a size nine.)

Under the samples were boxes and boxes of the available shoes. (I don't need to explain this; you've all been inside a shoe store.)

With hope, I began to scan all the boxes looking for that vital "W" next to the size. I soon realized that very few shoe companies even offer "wide" shoes because there were virtually no "W"s anywhere. I wondered why that would be the case as my frustration grew.

Suddenly, it dawned on me...they don't want me to wear their shoes! They don't want their shoes to be associated with a wide-footed gal such as myself! (You know how "Limited" and "Hurley" clothes only go up to about a size 11 or 13 so that only the trimmer sectors of the high school girls will be wearing them? Well, it's just like that, but with feet. I really think I'm on to something with this...)

Finally, after looking on nearly all the aisles for illusive "W"s, I spotted the closest thing I could find which was a "M/W" which I interpreted as being a "wide" that doesn't really want to admit that it's a "wide" so it implies that it's practically a "medium".

I grabbed a couple of "M/W" marked boxes and a pair of peds and settled onto the little chair provided, preparing myself for disappointment...which came rather quickly.

After returning the shoes to their boxes and stuffing the used peds into my purse (I'm assuming that they didn't want them back), I left with my flops on my feet, trying to focus on the fact that I had just saved upwards of $60.

That night, I related my sorrowful tale to my loving family. Jeff offered to simply make me some shoes by outlining my feet on some tractor tire tread. Thanks, Babe.

He then did something that actually was rather helpful. He went on line and googled "Wide Footed Women's Shoes" and bookmarked one site in particular so that I could peruse their selection at my leisure.

I thought that was rather sweet of him until I realized that I am now a woman who has a "Wide Shoe" site bookmarked on her computer!

A Bit of Unexpected Encouragment

A couple of days ago, I was discouraged to see my hand emerge from my mailbox with a very fat envelope. You see, it was a group of my poems that had been sent back to me, rejected by yet another poetry journal (and no, I did not send them "Ode to Snot" nor the one about the wart on my foot.)

At dinner, though, Jeff said something that cheered me considerably.

Jeff: "You're quite popular at my work."

Me: "Huh?" (You see, I've only met one of the people he's presently working with. That was at Walmart and I couldn't imagine what charming thing I could have done or said while standing next to a large stack of Dial Soaps that would have endeared me to everyone in the Transpo Office.)

Jeff: "Yeah, Mrs. So and so says that you should be nominated for Wife of the Year."

Me, with an eyebrow raised: "Huh?" (At this point, I was beginning to think that he was being sarcastic and I almost slipped into defense mode.)

Jeff: "Yeah, she saw that you had packed me a lunch again today and said you deserved an award. Everybody sees the meals you send with me and says that you're awesome."

At this point, I started laughing because some of the meals I send with him are quite paltry. I mean, they're all edible (except for that one piece of cornbread that I didn't realize had turned rancid) but as for quality...they're just not very inspiring unless you're really into leftovers slopped into tupperware.

This made me so happy. I mean, I've been faithfully doing something that isn't really a big deal in my mind at all and apparently a number of people have noticed and appreciated it.

This doesn't thrill me because of my own "fame" at Jeff's office (in fact, if they actually tasted some of the food I send then they might withhold all future praise), but rather because they can see how our Christ-centered family functions. Jeff cares for me by going to a less-than-fabulous job every day and I care for him by packing him less-than-fabulous meals. Jeff's not shy about his beliefs so I'm sure everyone there knows He follows Christ and they probably suspect that I, Jeff's unseen wife, follow Christ as well.

Now, I realize this might not be something that you do, but that's okay. You don't need to pack meals for your husband to prove your love for Jesus to the world. If you truly do love Jesus then you are doing all sorts of things that convey that to others.

Christ's commandments to us to 1)Love God and 2)Love others automatically result in our actions shining brightly in this dark place and we are a witness of His love in even our most mundane tasks.

I hope that encourages you as much as it encourages me.

Report to Carousel

If you're sad about something, you may want to hold off on reading this post, or at least get a Wipeout episode revved up and ready to view.

Anybody remember that movie called "Logan's Run"? It was a sci-fi type flick that channel five aired once a year back in the day before DVD players (or even VCRs).

I may not have the story completely correct, but basically, the people of Earth had created an indoor Utopia. I think there had been a war or some cataclysmic event that had destroyed life outdoors. Anyway, a weird thing about this new society was that once a citizen reached the age of about 30, they heard their name called over the intercom system and they were ordered to "Report to Carousel".

Sounds nice, right? Pick a slow moving horse on the merry go round and relax for a few minutes as you gently move in circles.

Wrong!

"Carousel" was this big, round room equipped with lasers. Those who were "reporting to Carousel" arrived having donned these weird white uniforms. They would situate themselves around the Carousel's perimeter while the rest of the people (those who had not been ordered to report to Carousel) filled the audience bleachers to watch. When everyone was ready, Carousel would slowly begin to spin, the 30 and up crowd would float up into the air and one by one they'd get zapped (and thus obliterated) until they had all disappeared.

Creepy stuff (even if I did get a few of the details wrong).

Logan was this one guy who heard his name called and he decided he wasn't going to cooperate with his annihilators. He ran off (with a beautiful woman, of course) and thus the movie was entitled "Logan's Run".

I remember being about Delaney's age and asking my dad, "Why are they zapping all those people?"

He informed me that that society didn't value people once they reached a certain age and that they were looked at as burdens, so for "the good of everyone", they were disposed of.

That totally freaked me out. I mean, at that time 30 did seem pretty ancient to me, but still...

I think what disturbed me the most was that the people willingly reported to Carousel and the others came to watch the mass murder like it was some sporting event.

And my point is...

It horrified my little-girl-mind that these people weren't valuing each other or even themselves.

Now, we can watch that movie and call it ridiculous, but by observing actual human nature, it really isn't that far fetched.

I just finished Elie Weisel's Nobel Peace Prize winning book, Night. It's his real life story about living in concentration camps and barely surviving. To say the story is horrendous is the understatement of a lifetime. Ultimately, what it's about is the negligence to value human lives and even beyond that to sadistically enjoy doing so.

The sick things described really happened. Reporting to Carousel genuinely seems like a very pleasant alternative.

A more recent example...

The other day, I read a news article about this famous "adult entertainer" who was the spokesperson for some foundation that was dedicated to educating women. Curious, I read on. Well, she was educating women that they should always require their sexual partners to use condoms. She said that a lot of women are afraid to do so.

WHAT?

Women are giving away their bodies (and arguably bits of their souls) and they're afraid to have parameters in regards to the process? Where are the boundaries in our society? Sick...

It's all a part of not valuing each other or ourselves.

So what about me...

Okay, so my examples thus far are pretty far removed from my day to day experience, but am I successfully valuing others as I ought?

My efforts to do so are pretty pathetic.

Yes, we sponsor a few kids through Compassion and yes, we are attempting to teach our kids good manners and values, and yes, we buy meals for any homeless person who approaches us, but what about everything else that I could be doing?

By American standards, my kids both needed braces very badly.


(Sorry about that, just illustrating my point!)

Straightening one's teeth is more than just for vanity's sake. There are benefits for oral hygiene and even digestive health, but how drastic of an improvement is made in either of these areas?

Braces cost about $4,000 per kid. If I'd given that money to a specified organization, they probably could have dug a well for an entire village in some African country or fed the entire village for a year.

Still, I handed it over to an orthodontist and said, "Straighten my kid's teeth."

You can call me overly dramatic, but it's clear to me that I just deprived an entire village of a much needed well.

Living in middle class America is like living in a carefully tended bubble where the temperatures of our homes are just right, the food is so abundant that a bunch of it rots in our fridges, the entertainment is constant, there are effective medicines for headaches, kids can get a decent education for free, a truck comes by every Tuesday to collect our trash, etc., etc., etc. It's every day life for us, but it's a veritable dreamland for the vast majority of the actual world.

I like taking vacations. I want my kids to have those memories with us and see the sights, but how many truckloads of medicine could I have bought sick people with the money I spent on our fabulous trip to Oregon?

I like fixing Jeff a juicy steak instead of serving him beans and rice after a hard day's work, but think of all the beans and rice I could buy for starving people if I limited our own grocery budget.

I like spending money on haircuts, but think of all the Bibles I could send to China in one year if I let my locks just grow.

Welcome to the inside of my head.

I can't talk myself out of these convictions...and yet how much do I actually do about them?

This whole post is somewhat rhetorical (although I'd love to hear whatever any of you have to say). For years I've struggled with these haunting thoughts of entitlement and lack of generosity.

I still remember being about 10 and seeing the distended bellies of starving Ethiopian children on TV. I sent about 8 dollars to the relief fund which was a huge chunk of my piggy bank's contents, but I knew it wasn't enough. Nor was it all that I had.

How many of my actions (or inactions) will I regret when I report to Carousel?

(Sorry if you needed a pick-me-up. This probably wasn't it.)

Got Hurt?

I've been thinking a lot lately about humans' potential to hurt each other.

Recently, I ran into a woman whom I haven't seen for years and years. Apparently, she felt pretty hurt by members of the Church in the past ten years or so and no longer even considers herself a part of the Church. She says she still believes in Jesus, but won't call herself a Christian. I don't know who is on her "list of hurters" (maybe I'm on it!), so I have no context by which to evaluate the authenticity of her grievances. However, I don't think that should be the point. When we hear about Christians doing un-Christ-like things, don't we automatically either assume that they aren't being represented fairly OR assume that they're just lousy Christians? It's one extreme or the other, but it probably shouldn't be. There are most likely sins on both sides of the conflict.

I'm a human fraught with faults and weaknesses and skewed perceptions. I'm far too sensitive and I'm ALWAYS thinking about myself. I'm a mess and I'm constantly dealing with other people who are messes as well. There have been a number of times that I've been tempted to withdraw from social groups because I was tired of feeling hurt on a regular basis. I'm not suggesting that withdrawal is never a good option, but we need to think rationally and pray things through, asking God to show us if we're making decisions based on our feelings or if they're actually wise decisions.

There are relational problems wherever there are relationships. It's more obvious out in the World, but we're liars if we say things are perfect in the Church. Congregants get mad at each other as do top leaders in ministries.

I don't like to make claims that I can't substantiate on the spot, so I'll inform you ahead of time that I don't have actual statistics for the following statement, (although I heard it from what I deem a credible source)-- Most missionaries who return early from the field due to relational problems didn't have the problems with the non-believers to whom they were ministering, but rather they had the problems with the other missionaries alongside whom they were ministering. I know there are A LOT of people who work very well together, but there are also a lot who really don't.

What is the standard by which we determine who is in the right and who is in the wrong? We all have varying codes of conduct. I may think of myself as being direct, but someone else labels me as rude. I might find someone's attempt at humor tasteless, but they think they're downright hilarious. Perhaps my attempt at being compassionate is perceived as blatant condescension. I think it's incredibly important to remember this when we find ourselves feeling hurt. When things aren't clear, assume the best in others. "Love is not provoked". (1 Cor. 13:5)

Of course, actual wrongdoing does occur. Jesus tells us how to deal with this in Matthew 18:15-17.

Once, I was tired of the frustrations I felt in a certain social group and after much prayer and even some fasting, I decided to curtail my interaction with the group. I knew that 1 Cor. 9:7 said, " ... let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity, for God loves a cheerful giver." My prevailing thought as I made the decision to limit my involvement with the group was, "I'm not a cheerful giver of my time, energy and resources to that group. I'm tired of feeling constantly like I'm in sin because of my frustration and the encroaching bitterness that seems ever ready to take hold of me." Of course, there are situations to which this logic doesn't apply. Many relationships can't be just cut off because we're frustrated with them (like with one's children!). That decision was a difficult one to make but I had peace in it because of the clear directive in the aforementioned scripture.

It's so sad that humans just can't seem to get along.

And yet, it simply reminds us of our need to look to God to be our sufficiency--not a ministry, not a leader, not a peer group. I think that's why cults can be so successful. They claim that their specific group will meet one's needs and wants completely. Some people want that claim to be true so badly that they'll give up virtually everything to obtain the hollow promise of completion.

Even people in the Church can be guilty of this. If I claim that my group is the group, then my focus is going to be on the group instead of God and disappointment is inevitable. It's just another form of idolatry.

Oh, by the way...I'm desperately trying not to be hurt by the fact that only one person I memed responded by actually spilling 7 facts about themselves! (Thank you, Andrea :) Okay, so maybe I'm not deeply hurt, but I am a little disappointed. :( All I wanted were a few random facts about my friends...sigh