True Religion

The home that I’m staying in tonight is located in rural southeastern Iowa. It belongs to my aunt and uncle and I’m here with my parents for a family reunion. It’s one of the most beautiful homes I’ve ever had the privilege of staying in. It’s an old farmhouse surrounded by barns and out buildings. Some of those buildings house a few animals – a couple goats, a few ducks, some chickens, dogs and cats. Once it was a working farm with cows and pigs and crops, but my aunt and uncle have retired from farming.

It’s hard for me to describe this home adequately. On the outside it looks regular enough. You enter through a side door into a mud room with a wooden coat hanger and a place for muddy boots. Next is a dining room with a large, well-worn table and brown carpet. The kitchen, a long and narrow room with a few cabinets and some storage, is behind the dining room. The living room has large windows that overlook the beautiful countryside and give my aunt and uncle the ability to watch deer and other wild life as they wander through.

The bedroom I’m staying in tonight is what got me to thinking of the beauty of this home. The bedroom has a linoleum floor, two small beds with colorful, tropical fish themed comforters, and matching curtains. It has an old bureau with a mirror, a lamp clipped to the top of the mirror, and another lamp near the door. There are some hooks hanging from the wall that serve as a closet of sorts. The wall is blonde paneling and above the bed I’m sleeping in is a large wooden cross with praying hands in the center of it.

I brushed my teeth tonight before bed in the tiniest bathroom I’ve ever been in outside of an airplane. It is maybe two inches wider than me on either side and the light is on a pull chain. The electrical outlets won’t allow me to plug anything in because they aren’t three-pronged outlets.

The beauty of this old farmhouse struck me when I walked in the door tonight. Seated at the kitchen table was a young boy, perhaps twelve years old. He wore leg braces and didn’t stand to greet me. When we were introduced, he spoke with difficulty. My uncle was playing a card game with him. For the first thirty minutes I was here, I was able to observe my aunt and uncle interacting with the boy. They understood what he was saying, they treated him with dignity, and they laughed and joked with him. Soon it was time for my uncle to take the boy home.

The bedroom I’m sleeping in tonight was prepared with children in mind. Today the child that my aunt and uncle were caring for went home at the end of the day, but there have been countless children who have not been able to go home because their homes were not safe places for them to be. You see, my aunt and uncle have spent countless years of their lives as foster parents. To the best of my knowledge, they began 28 years ago by taking in a little blue-eyed, blonde girl who’d been neglected by her mother. They fostered her, fell in love with her, and adopted her. Today I know her simply as my cousin Devon.

Devon and Trent Grimes

Devon was the first in a long line of children for whom my aunt and uncle provided a foster home. She is the only one they adopted, but they continued to provide a home for needy children for many years. I’m sure putting a linoleum floor in a bedroom frequented by displaced children was the wisest thing to do. I can just imagine carpet with gum stuck to it and holes from the adventurous things children do.

They were given the most difficult cases over the years because they were able to achieve such tremendous results. I don’t know many details of the children who stayed here and what was accomplished because my aunt and uncle don’t talk about it much. It’s just something they have done.

My aunt and uncle are well into their sixties now and I don’t think they take in foster children any longer. These days they are licensed to work with special needs children. They provide care for children whose families need assistance. That is why my uncle was playing Skip Bo with the young boy I met today. His family needs help and they are providing it.

There’s a wall full of children’s pictures here. It tells the story of the children who have lived under this roof. The beauty of this home is in the love that resides here. The beauty of this home is in the way two people have chosen to give of themselves to help others. The beauty in this home is in the legacy they are leaving their grandchildren. Their oldest grandchild is now in college majoring in social work. They have made such an impact on me that I look forward to the day I can follow in their footsteps and bring hurting children into my home to help them, to show them love, to teach them responsibility, and to be the hands and feet of Christ to them.

My aunt and uncle seem to understand the command of Christ to care for the fatherless better than nearly anyone I know. I know that it has not been easy for them. Their hearts have been broken many times. I have no doubt there have been times of great frustration and personal sacrifice. Yet they have continued to help. This is true religion. This is true beauty. I live near one of the wealthiest areas in the nation and am regularly in mini-mansions that are decorated with all the latest things. They are gorgeous and tasteful. They smell wonderful and have soft music playing in the background. But in an old farmhouse in rural Iowa, I have discovered true beauty. It is the beauty of a life well-spent. It is the beauty of the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Robert and Linda Wenger admiring their newest grandson

Thank you, Robert and Linda Wenger, for being the real thing. I am honored to call you family.

James 1:27 (ASV) – Pure religion and undefiled before our God and Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.

Galatians 5:22-23 (NIV) – But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

All You Can Do to Stand

This morning I was reading my morning devotional from The Book of Common Prayer Daily Office.  (A collection of readings for each day of the year that includes a Psalm, an Old Testament reading, a New Testament reading, and a Gospel reading.)  There were FIVE Psalms this morning and I was running short on time, so I skimmed through a few of them.  I guess I was kind of looking for something I liked or wanted to really focus on this morning.  Don’t judge me…

Many of the Psalm readings are these horrible diatribes against David’s enemies, asking God to kill them, smash them in pieces, and cut out their children’s tongues.  At least that’s the basic theme of them.  I typically skim through these chapters or sections because as good as it may feel to reign down curses on my enemies (or the person who’s particularly bugging me at that time), Jesus expressly forbids us to do it. 

Matthew 5:43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, ⁴⁵ that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. (NKJV)

How do I reconcile that with David’s requests that God bash in the heads of his opponents?  And so I typically skim through these passages and deal with the nagging question of why these sentiments ever got published to begin with. 

Well recently I’ve been having a battle with my mind – trying to correct firmly ingrained ways of thinking that are wrong and detrimental.  Although it’s very uncomfortable for me, I’ve been speaking out loud the truth (yes, talking to myself) and praying for God to remove the lies.  I tend to lean more toward figuring things out than seeing demons behind every door – but Jesus does spend a significant amount of time in Scripture casting them out.  Reading through the Gospels might actually cause one to think there really were demons behind every door.  So just in case there might be any evil spirits plaguing me, keeping me from moving forward and believing the truth, I even went so far as to speak to them and do the whole thing I grew up hearing – binding them, casting them out, and telling them never to return.  I figured if it is an evil spirit, rationalizing it away won’t exactly work, so I gave it a shot. 

So what in the world does that have to do with David cursing his enemies in the Psalms?  I do have a point, I promise!  As I was reading through the curses this morning, another Scripture popped into my head.

Ephesians 6:11 Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. 12 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. 13 Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. (NKJV)

Hmmmm…  David did have human, flesh-and-blood enemies trying to kill him and take the kingdom from him.  I don’t.  I’m pretty sure no human being has ever tried to kill me.  However, Ephesians says that as Christians we have to stand against the wiles of the devil.  There is such a thing as “spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.”  Creepy!  And real.  It goes on to say that we can stand against them if we put on the full armor of God: 

Ephesians 6:14 Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, 15 and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; 16 above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one. 17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; 18 praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints. 

The war metaphor basically means we are to speak truth, live righteously, be peacemakers, have faith, accept the gift of salvation, read and study Scripture, pray, and be alert. 

Remembering that my enemy is actually Satan, I stopped skimming and picked up the Psalm again from the beginning.  I read out loud and when I got to the part about David cursing his enemies, I applied those words to principalities, powers, and spiritual wickedness.  I let them know that they are not going to bother me any longer.  And I smiled, knowing that God has given me authority to curse the devil and command him to leave.  It felt pretty good to ask God to totally destroy and banish them forever. 

I don’t believe that every single issue we face as Christians has a demon lurking behind it.  I’m not even sure the one I’m facing has any evil attached to it at all.  But I’m willing to do what Ephesians 6:13 says – all I can do to stand.  And from now on when I see a Psalm about cursing our enemies, I’ll remember exactly who my enemy is and pray that Psalm out loud, cursing him with gusto.

Ignorance is Bliss?

In a conversation I had with a woman in her late 50s who was describing the abusive childhood of a loved one, she repeated a commonly used excuse for the irresponsible behavior of the parents.  How often have we heard this phrase: “They did the best they could with the knowledge they had”?  That phrase is usually followed or preceded by a horror story of child abuse or some other atrocity.  I decided a long time ago that I despise that phrase, that excuse. 

I do realize that we often do things out of ignorance and on some level that will always happen and cannot be helped.  No one can know everything or understand any situation fully but God.  Perhaps that’s why God is infallible?  He knows everything and sees each situation from all sides.  But I don’t mean to get into a theological discussion of God’s perfection, so moving on…  As I was saying, I do understand that each person will make mistakes out of ignorance and this is to be expected.  The reason I so despise the phrase mentioned is because it’s often is used to excuse behavior that is reprehensible.  When a small child is beaten with a board full of nails for saying a curse word he’s heard his father use a million times before, then forced to “confess” by repeating that curse word and is so frightened he can’t remember it, is then forced to guess what curse word he said then beaten for each incorrect curse word he guessed until he’s nearly dead – that is inexcusable.  Don’t tell me the father didn’t know any better.  No one is that stupid.

I heard that phrase many times while I was growing up in the form of, “I’m sorry I hurt you.  I did the best I could with what I knew to do.”  And I decided I hated it.  I was not the one beaten with boards, thank God!  But in a pastor’s house, you hear horror stories every day.  People bring their problems to their pastor and as I child I paid attention.  Ignorance was sometimes an excuse, but it struck me as totally unreasonable.

I made a decision somewhere around the age of fourteen that I would not let that be an excuse for bad behavior in my own life.  If I didn’t know something, I would find out.  And I have built my life on that concept.  I’m a researcher.  It may appear that I make quick decisions and don’t take the time to think them through.  I am a decisive person.  But what many don’t realize is the number of hours I’ve spent searching for answers to questions I don’t have to answer yet, so that when the day comes that I do have to make a choice, I can choose wisely.  I rarely decide anything without much research and forethought.  When I do, I usually regret it. 

Ever since the day my brother was born when I was nearly eleven years old, I have known that I want to be a mother.  I began to research parenting and did all I could to apply the principles I learned to the children around me.  When I was in my early twenties, I finally put down the parenting books because I realized I was driving myself crazy with all this theory and no one to practice on.  I haven’t picked up another parenting book since then, but I’m a really good babysitter and aunt! 

The point is, I didn’t want to make parenting mistakes out of ignorance when the time came.  I haven’t picked up any more books since then, but I’ve been a diligent student of my friends with children.  I’ve watched how they do things, asked questions, and made mental notes for myself. 

In my mid-twenties, a friend challenged me with a really unique understanding of Scripture as it relates to the end times and Christ’s return.  She walked me through the Scriptures to prove her point of view.  As she did this, I realized that I disagreed strongly with her, but I couldn’t articulate why.  I KNEW she was wrong, but I couldn’t walk her through Scriptures myself to show her why.  I became furious and had to walk away from the conversation before I lost my temper.  I wasn’t angry with her, but with myself for not knowing more to be able to discuss it with her.  I’d been a Christian all my life, was a pastor’s daughter, the product of several Christian schools, and had even spent a year in Christian college.  Yet I was mute before her argument.  That realization drove me nuts.

A few years later I enrolled in seminary.  The major paper I did for my last systematic theology class was on this very subject.  I was determined to understand it and refute it.  When I finished that paper, I felt such a sense of accomplishment!  I went back and talked to her about it and was finally able to explain why I disagreed with her.  I didn’t change her mind (darn it!), but I was no longer ignorant either.

Proverbs 13:15 says, “Good understanding gains favor, but the way of the unfaithful is hard.”

What good would it have done for me to have yelled and shown my anger toward my friend that day when I didn’t know what to say to her, just knew I disagreed with her?  I kept my mouth shut until I had good understanding.  She had no idea I had been so worked up by what she said.  When I went back to her years later, we had an intelligent conversation about it and she was touched that I cared so much about her ideas that I went and studied the matter out to be able to answer her.  We are still great friends to this day and every once in awhile have to acknowledge our different opinions on the end times.  This is done with no animosity, but respect.

Proverbs chapter four is full of admonitions to get wisdom and to make sure we understand things. 

Proverbs 4:5 Get wisdom! Get understanding!
      Do not forget, nor turn away from the words of my mouth.
       6 Do not forsake her, and she will preserve you;
      Love her, and she will keep you.
       7 Wisdom is the principal thing;
      Therefore get wisdom.
      And in all your getting, get understanding.
       8 Exalt her, and she will promote you;
      She will bring you honor, when you embrace her.
       9 She will place on your head an ornament of grace;
      A crown of glory she will deliver to you.”

We often do shameful things out of ignorance; things we are embarrassed about later.  We can’t explain why we did them except, “I didn’t know any better.”  But Proverbs urges us to seek out wisdom and understanding.  Instead of shame, it promises that we’ll have an ornament of grace, a crown of glory on our heads. 

I try to live my life by the words of Proverbs 4:13, which states, “Take firm hold of instruction, do not let go; keep her, for she is your life.” 

What would the world look like if we all sought after wisdom and understanding?  If we all tried to understand the best way to do something before we did it?  What would the church look like if just the Christians did that?

There’s no way I’ll ever know all the things I’m interested in, curious about, or need to know.  I wish I could, but when would I sleep?  I realize how little I know, which drives me to learn more and apply myself to getting instruction.  Ignorance may be bliss, but knowledge is power.

You want HOW MANY children?

Last night I was watching “18 Kids and Counting” – a TLC show about the Duggar family who have 18 children and are pregnant with their 19^th.  All of the children are from the same parents and appear to be healthy, normal, and happy.  Their oldest son got married at 20 years old and he and his wife announced their own pregnancy within a few months.  Their child was just born, a few months before Michelle’s 19^th child is due.  They are thrilled with all these children and believe they are a blessing from the Lord.  They don’t believe in birth control of any kind and feel that if they leave it totally up to the Lord, He will give them the number of children they need and nothing more than they can handle. 

When this show first came out, I watched it out of curiosity – judging them in my heart and feeling sorry for their poor children.  I felt it was a ludicrous concept and that Michelle Duggar was endangering her own health and the well-being of her children.  I was certain that that many children would make it impossible for the parents to know each child and give the proper amount of attention to each one.  And I can’t forget to mention that they home school their children, the girls all wear skirts or dresses, they don’t watch television, and they have a home church.  I think all those things can make a family a little weird; however, every time I watched the show, something stirred in my heart and I found myself watching it the next week as well.  I now record it every week so I don’t miss anything. 

Surprisingly, I’ve found the Duggars to be one of the most sincere and healthy families I’ve ever encountered.  I know it’s a television show and they can edit out whatever they don’t want shown, but this family truly appears to get along with one another, to be well-educated and entrepreneurial, hard-working, creative, and truly sincere in their love for the Lord and their study of His word.  When asked to explain their unusual beliefs, they often say that this is the conviction of their family and not something they expect everyone else to do. 

Jim Bob Duggar, the dad, made a comment on a question and answer show last night that stunned me.  He said that if he and Michelle end up having 20 children, and each of their children has 10 children, then there will be 200 grandchildren and the family will never be without young children toddling around.  It seems ridiculous – 200 grandchildren!? 

But then I think about how much I loved my younger brother when he was born.  I was almost eleven years old and I had no idea that I was capable of so much love.  He brought joy into our family in a way we never could have anticipated.  I adored him and stayed close to home in college to be near him.  And then our family had no babies for 21 years.  Christmas morning became rather boring – adults sleeping in and then sitting around opening presents we’d often picked out for ourselves.  We played games and made everything look pretty, we went to movies, but we were working hard to amuse ourselves.  Then my sister had a baby – a beautiful little girl who brought immediate joy and laughter to our lives again.  She will be almost two years old this Christmas and we are all thrilled.  We can’t wait to make Christmas special for her.  She’s a constant subject of conversation and we can’t get enough of her.  A six-hour drive home feels like nothing when I know I get to spend time with that little princess.

I wonder how much joy and laughter we have missed because we think we have to wait for the perfect time, the perfect economic situation, the perfect amount of energy to have babies.  Michelle Duggar is in her early 40s and she isn’t slowing down one bit.  She is healthy and happy.  When she went on interviews early in her pregnancy and was asked how she felt, she joyfully said she was nauseous and that was a good sign because it meant the baby was healthy.  When they announced the news to their children, there was joy; none of them groaned or acted like now they were going to get less attention from their parents. 

Obviously not everyone can have 20 children.  Michelle Duggar is an unusual woman who is physically capable of having babies without difficulty and stared very young.  But I think there’s something to be said for the way they do things.  We are such control freaks in our society.  We want everything to be perfect and get out of sorts when we realize the inevitable –that life is messy.  We want to be able to buy designer clothes for ourselves and our children (when the Duggars seem perfectly happy to shop at thrift stores for much of what they need).  We want to fit nicely into a booth at a restaurant.  We want to keep things small and contained and under control. 

I find something beautiful in the lives of these people who have turned control over to God and trust Him to help them manage their humongous family.  Michelle is a very organized woman and she has systems in place for everything.  The older children help take care of the younger ones.  Everyone has chores.  They built their house themselves and made it an educational adventure.  If they didn’t know how to do something, they brought in professionals who were willing to work alongside them and teach them how to do it.  They are completely debt-free.  Their house stays clean because each child has regular chores they are expected to do.  They agreed to do a television show so they could be an encouragement to others, sharing the message that their faith sustains them and children are a blessing.  Sure, they get paid to do the show, which is a huge incentive.  They are creative in finding ways to sustain their large family and continue to be debt-free.

I’m not saying I plan to adopt their way of doing things, but I do think it’s an interesting and challenging point of view.  They seem to be doing it well and are an inspiration.  It definitely gives me something to think about.  Don’t expect me to start walking around in ankle-length skirts and perming my hair though.  And as for babies, there will need to be a husband first.  I’m mature enough to realize that this yet-to-be-seen husband will have ideas and opinions of his own.  But if that day ever comes and I’m married and pregnant, I promise to do my best to smile through my nausea and tell you joyfully that it means the pregnancy is going well.

Vacation!

Excited... Alexis with her cousin on July 4th

I’m on vacation!  I’m heaing home to South Carolina next week to spend time with my family and old friends.  My number one companion next week is about two feet tall and says things like, “I wuv ew, KeeBee” (the 21-month old version of “I love you, Aunt Kimberly.”)  She is the sweetest little girl and takes great joy in my silly songs.  My niece Alexis and I will be kickin’ it at the park, at the zoo, and wherever else her little heart desires.  I can’t wait to see her.

A Time to be Quiet

So I’ll admit it – I really like to watch TV.  I know it’s not the most Christian thing to own up to (and when I was doing eHarmony, it wasn’t something I put on my list of enjoyable ways to spend my time) but at the end of a long day when all the world seems to be asking for a piece of me, I really enjoy turning off my phone, sitting down on the big, comfy chair with the remote, and clearing out the shows on my DVR.  It’s mindless, it’s relaxing, and it’s my little guilty pleasure.  I can fast forward through commercials and only watch the shows I’m really interested in now that we have the lovely DVR in our house. 

So when I felt God tugging at me to give up the TV and radio for a few weeks, I wasn’t thrilled.  I knew I needed to do it though.  It seems that sometimes there’s so much noise and commotion around me, that God has very little opportunity to speak.  I do my devotions nearly every day, but I’m often rushed, trying to fit it in between my shower and breakfast, and don’t always take time to really listen. 

I’ve been dog/house sitting for a friend for nearly three weeks and during this time, the TV and radio have basically stayed off.  After about three days, the silence was SCREAMING at me.  I felt like I was going to lose my mind.  It was so hard.  All I wanted to do was turn on the radio just for a little background noise.  But I knew that wasn’t what I needed to do.  So I sat in the silence, in a peaceful, lovely home, and read, goofed off on Facebook, and wrote in my journal.  I didn’t really even talk on the phone much. 

After I got over the initial discomfort of the silence, I started to get used to it.  After nearly three weeks of basic silence, I’m even enjoying it a little.  Today is actually the last day of my stay and all the season openers for my shows are stacked up at home, waiting patiently on my DVR for me to plow through them, and I’m seriously considering just deleting them and (shock and awe) not trying to catch up.  I’m not making a commitment to that craziness right now.  I’m just thinking about it.

During my time of silence and listening, I believe God has spoken to me.  In August, I went through a very deep, personal struggle – begging God to provide some things that seem to have been terribly delayed.  My birthday is coming up this month and as I get a year older, it seems like much of life that others enjoy is passing me by.  I have a fantastic life and am so grateful for what I have, but some of the basic things that are common to adults are missing.  Additionally, some of the dreams I have that aren’t so common have yet to come to pass.  My spirit was screaming at God, demanding to know what’s taking so dag gum long.  I’ve done all the self-examination I know to do.  I’ve prepared myself spiritually.  I’ve read the books.  I’ve followed all the suggested steps.  Nothing is working.  I am ready for more. 

In my time of silence, God has been assuring me that His provision is already here.  He has been working out the details of my life for a long time and has everything under control.  What is to come has been coming ever since my life began and I just need to be still, stop struggling, and wait for His redemption.  It’s a very reassuring message.  It’s not the message I hoped for, which would include gift wrapped results that are delivered to my door yesterday (and a fantastic book deal).  But it’s a good message.  It’s a message of trust. 

The thing is, I’m a “doer,” a “strategic activator.”  I have documented proof of this in the form of numerous personality and work-style assessments.  I like to be moving!  I like to have a goal to accomplish and steps to take. This thing about sitting still and waiting makes me feel like I’m sitting on my hands while others are getting everything done.  I like to be in the middle of the action, not on the sidelines.  Yet God seems to be reassuring me that He needs no help from me to accomplish His perfect will for my life.  It’s my job to enjoy the calm and be delighted when the provision is finally in my hands. 

Tomorrow I will decide what to do about the TV.  Tonight I will enjoy one more night of waiting in the silence.

Madeleine L’Engle

Madeleine L’Engle is an author I believe I will enjoy all my life.  I was introduced to her through a devotional book called Glimpses of Grace.  It was on our book table at the Disciple Bible Study  seminars I did for a few years.  One day I was bored at the seminar, so I picked up the book and flipped through it.  I was hooked.  I bought it and used it as my devotional guide for several years.  It opened my soul to the presence of God, ignited something new inside me, and caused me to think in a different and delightful way.  The book is made up of excerpts from L’Engle’s various works.  She was a prolific author.

The first book of hers that I read was chosen because I so enjoyed the excerpts in the devotional book.  It was titled A Circle of Quiet.  My family made fun of me for reading it because it wasn’t some kind of romance novel and it took me quite awhile to work through it.  The ideas she presented were so new and fresh and beautiful to me that I didn’t want to miss anything.  She writes about truly being yourself, what that means, and how to find out what makes you come alive.  She writes about not being embarrassed by who we are and the things we are gifted to do – how to accept our own creativity and joy.  I didn’t agree with everything she wrote, but I loved the parts I did agree with so much that I couldn’t get enough.  A Circle of Quiet is the first book in the Crosswicks Journal Series.  I went on to read the entire series and thoroughly enjoyed them.

She wrote her first novel as a young woman and out of curiosity, I read that.  It’s titled A Small Rain.  It was fascinating and moving.  When she was much older, she wrote a sequel to it titled A Severed Wasp.  I immediately purchased that book and read it as soon as I was finished with the first one.  Her books are life-changing in the way she uses stories to present ideas and concepts.  I am forever changed by the stories she tells.  For example, she writes of a long-term marriage and the love between the two people.  There’s nothing easy about their love for one another and it takes work every single day.  They make interesting compromises and struggle with terrible challenges, but they work it out every day.  How much different than our fairy tales that tell us “they lived happily ever after,” yet you never get the idea that her characters aren’t basically happy people with real lives.

She wrote the popular children’s book A Wrinkle in Time.  I read that as an adult and devoured the other three books in the series that came after it.  I can’t wait to read them to my own children one day.  They are creative and imaginative and wild.  Space and time travel, other creatures, and stories that present truth to children – what can be better than that?

She has a book on writing titled Madeleine L’Engle Herself, which is another collection of excerpts from her writings and lectures.  It is full of advice on how to become a writer and the writing process.  I read a little bit here and there and have been working on it for a few years.  I love how she has encouraged and shaped me as a writer.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed her book of poetry titled The Ordering of Love.  She writes religious poetry, love poems, and many other types of poems.  She uses words in such an amazing way, you can read her poems over and over and still find new and wonderful things in them.  There are poems about her husband that take my breath away.

Tonight I was looking at amazon.com and imagining buying all her books now so I’ll have them when I’m ready to read them.  I already have a few that I haven’t had a chance to read yet.  I decided not to buy them all up now, but to wait and get them here and there until I have all of them.  I can’t imagine anything that she’s written that I wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy.  You all really ought to check her out.  She’s amazing.

People vs. Peoples

Tell me, dear readers, what is the difference in the definition of “people” and “peoples”?  When I was in grammar school, I learned that the singular form of the word was “person” and the plural was “people”.  But suddenly, as an adult, I’m seeing professional publications all over the place with the word “peoples” in it.  Like the word “people” isn’t quite plural enough any more, we have to add an “s” to the end of it. 

I did a little research and discovered that the dictionary allows for an “s” on the end of the word if it refers to an entire community of people, like “the Aboriginal peoples.”  But tell me, doesn’t it mean exactly the same thing if it says “the Aboriginal people”? 

This probably is particularly bugging me because the Bible translation I’ve been using recently (ESV) constantly refers to people as peoples.  Grrr….  And it’s THE BIBLE, so it can’t be wrong, can it?  Well, I don’t think the Bible is wrong, just the editors who decided to put an “s” on the end of all references to people in it.  Even if the editors are adhering to the principle above, they’re still getting it wrong.  When David writes in the Psalms about “all people”, he’s referring to everyone – not a particular group of people. 

So, that’s my rant for today.  I maintain that the word “peoples” is not really a word and all use of is should cease and desist now. 

Now that I’m writing about it, the word just looks weird to me.  Don’t you hate it when that happens?

Vision

One thing that probably only my closest family members know about me is that my eyesight is not good.  By not good, I don’t mean that I have to wear glasses like all can see that for themselves.  I mean, really not good.  I began wearing glasses in second grade.  I guess my parents were told when I was in kindergarten that I needed glasses, but since I wasn’t really reading words off a chalk board at the front of the room yet, the adults decided to wait to get them for me.  They didn’t want me to be teased for having glasses.  (I never understood what the big deal was.  They’re just glasses!)  

I was always assigned a seat at the back of the classroom because I was a head taller than everyone else and no one could see around me.  One day Nikki Swalley, a fellow classmate who sat several rows ahead of me, told the teacher that she couldn’t read the board.  The teacher sent her to the school nurse to have her eyes checked and soon Nikki came back to school wearing glasses.  Hmmm….  I couldn’t read the board either.  I didn’t realize I was supposed to be able to read it without going up to the front of the classroom.  I told the teacher that I couldn’t read the board.  She thought I was just trying to copy Nikki and didn’t believe me.  But I insisted and I was eventually sent to the school nurse who checked my vision and immediately told my parents to take me to the eye doctor.  At seven years old, I couldn’t read the big “E” at the top of the chart.  

I’ll never forget the day I got glasses.  The whole world looked weird to me.  Everything was so sharp and bright.  It made me feel a little woozy.  We were driving home and I noticed that I could see individual leaves on the trees.  When we went to church, I could actually see the expression on the faces of those on stage – even from the back of the sanctuary!  I could even read the board at school.  I was amazed.  I had no idea what I’d been missing.  I just figured everyone had to get a little closer to see what they wanted to see.    

In fifth grade I got contacts.  I was thrilled.  I wore contacts every day from then on.  I couldn’t swim under water with them, but that was easy to give up for the joy of being able to see without wearing glasses.  

My eyesight has gotten progressively worse throughout my life.  In high school I was terrified to go to the eye doctor because I was sure there would come a time when they could no longer correct my vision enough.  By the time I was in my mid-twenties, my eyesight had deteriorated to a prescription of -10.  I think legally blind is -4.  At the point where you reach -4, there isn’t really anything you can see clearly at a distance of about a foot in front of your face.  I could see just fine close up (like really close up), but everything else was a total blur.  On top of that, my contacts started giving me problems.  My eye doctor told me I was becoming “contact lens intolerant.”  I was horrified.  Glasses at that strength are hideous.  There is NOTHING you can do with cool frames to make them look decent.  They distort your eyes, so when people look at you through the lenses, your eyes either appear gigantic or really, really small.  Even the newest, lightest, fanciest lenses looked awful.  

My mom and I had been researching and discussing Lasik vision correction surgery with doctors for years.  It was expensive and experimental for a long time, and doctors were always trying to get me to participate in some trial study.  I was not willing to let them test out their theories on my eyes!  Finally, the surgery was approved and deemed safe.  My parents generously paid for it.  (They didn’t want to have to look at me through bottle cap glasses either…)  It was not a pleasant experience to be sure, but it worked.  Within a month of the surgery, I could read the 20/20 line on the chart with no assistance.  It was shadowy and looked a little funny, but I was thrilled! 

The doctor explained to me that I would never see like someone who isn’t near-sighted, even with the surgery.  I’d had a hard time with depth-perception when the room wasn’t well-lit before and that would continue to be a problem for me.  I had a bit of an astigmatism which couldn’t be fixed with surgery, so things would always be a little shadowy.  Lights had never been pinpoints for me, but rather more like starbursts and that would remain the same.  Those things were disappointing to hear, but I didn’t let it bother me.  I had 20/20 vision and didn’t have to wear contacts or glasses.  That was all that really mattered. 

What the surgery wasn’t able to do was prevent my eyes from continuing to change as the years progress.  I was told by a doctor when I was younger that my eyesight would stop getting worse when I stopped growing.  He lied.  Every year my eyesight gets a little bit worse than the year before.  It’s slowed down a lot, but it’s still changing.  It’s very hard for me to wear contacts now.  They reshaped my eye in such a way that contacts don’t fit it well.  I’ve tried a few brands, but they tend to be more of a bother than a help.  So I wear glasses.  I try to choose fun frames that compliment my features and look a little funky.  My prescription right now is -1, so if I don’t have them on I’m not crippled – just not seeing things sharply.  I figure in a few years I might go in for surgery again and see if they can do a little more reshaping to get me back to 20/20.  In the meantime, I have no problem with the light-weight, thin lenses that I wear.  I’m so thankful that they aren’t thick bottle-caps!  

I’m telling you all this because I had a thought this morning about our relationship with God and trusting Him.  I don’t see well in the dark.  I really hate to drive in unknown, dimly lit places at night.  It’s no problem if I know where I’m going, but if it’s unfamiliar, I have to drive slow and work hard to keep panic down.  My eyes play tricks on me and often it’s hard to tell if the road is ending or where it’s going and I slam on the brakes in panic.  Yeah, I know, you’re not riding with me at night any more!  (I rarely offer to drive in those cases.) 

When I was 20 years old, I had this boyfriend who liked to go for walks at night.  On a paved road, that’s fine, but he liked to trek through fields and down dirt roads.  Because I can’t see well, this does not work for me.  Again with the panic…  I’m sure I’ll step into a big hole somewhere and never be heard from again.  Or maybe just sprain my ankle yet again…  So this boyfriend won’t be deterred.  We are going to go for walks at night on uneven terrain and that’s all there is to it.  (Before you start lecturing me on standing up for myself and not letting any boy tell me what to do, keep reading…)  This boy taught me to trust him on those walks.  He gave me his arm, which I clung to, and told me what was coming up ahead.  He made sure I didn’t stumble or fall into any holes, and eventually I was able to relax and walk beside him, knowing he would take care of me.  I was pretty dependent on him on those walks and if he’d left me out there, I would’ve been screwed.  But he never did.  He was a good guy and he taught me a lot through those walks.

Today I was reading in 1 Corinthians 3 about how God uses the foolish things to confound the wise so that we know it’s Him who does the great things in our lives.  I had an image of myself walking along a deeply rutted dirt road at night, clinging to the arm of Jesus, trusting Him to guide me on each and every step.  It’s not exactly a fun place to be, fighting down panic and hoping I don’t twist my ankle or fall into a hole or anything like that.  But I’m also there with Jesus, the lover of my soul, who speaks in a soothing voice and knows exactly where we’re headed and how long it will take and just how to tell me to take each step.  And even though I’m uncomfortable and have very little control over the situation, the panic subsides, I relax, and Jesus guides me every step of the way.

Every day He’s teaching me to depend more and more on Him and I’m getting a little more comfortable with it as time goes on.  And somehow He’s taking the things like my bad eyesight to teach me the trust I need.  He uses every little thing in my life and I’m thankful for that.  I’ll keep praying for Him to heal my eyes, as I’ve done since I was a little girl, and keep believing that He’s able and one of these days He will do it.  But I also trust that He is made strong in our weakness and I thank Him that I have eyes to see at all.

You Know You’re a Grown Up When…

When I first moved to Nashville at the age of twenty-two, I thought I was pretty grown up.  I had lived in an apartment for a couple years, graduated from college, and even worked a full-time job over the summer.  But I was really only a half-cooked grown up.  I struggled to go to work every day, seriously missing the ability to skip class when I felt like it.  I called in sick to work on a regular basis when I just didn’t want to get out of bed.  I had a boyfriend who took me on nice dates nearly every weekend where we got dressed up and ate at the best restaurants in town, but we had little to say to one another because we had nothing in common.  I went to church once every two to three weeks, exerting my independence after growing up in a house where I had to be there every time the doors were open. 

And then one night a friend sat on my couch and sobbed, telling me that she had caught her husband cheating on her.  They’d been married for less than six months.  My heart broke for her.  I remember thinking, this is grown up stuff.  I had no idea what to tell her.  She was MARRIED.  If this had been her boyfriend, I wouldn’t have any trouble telling her to leave him.  But he was her husband.  She had joined her life with his till death. 

I know many people who have been divorced, but a few years ago I had a good friend who decided to divorce her husband.  They had children.  It was a very messy thing and I got deeply involved in the situation.  There were lawyers and private investigators and recording devices and police…  I can’t remember how many times I thought, now I’m a grown up.  (Note to self…  NEVER GET A DIVORCE.) 

My younger brother is now twenty-three years old.  He is learning what it means to be a grown up.  He raced his motorcycle on some big race track in Atlanta last weekend, going speeds up to 155 mph.  It scared me to hear what he did, but he was thrilled.  He said that day at the race track separated the men from the boys.  He is now a man.  I smiled, realizing that this was one of those experiences for him where he said, Now I’m a grown up.

Several years ago two beloved young adults in our church died in a car accident.  It was horrible.  We all sat around for awhile staring at one another in shock.  We looked to our senior pastor to know what to do.  I’ll never forget when he looked back at us and said,
     “You all think I should know what to do, but I go behind closed doors with other leaders of this church and we run around with our hands in the air asking, What do we do?!  We are clueless too.” 
He was having a moment, well into his fifties, when he realized that he’s a grown up. 

Recently I’ve had to make some very grown up decisions, walk others who are older and more experienced than me through difficult things that they could not objectively understand.  My adrenaline was pumping and I was able to handle the situation with confidence.  When the day was over, I couldn’t decide if I should curl up on the couch, go punch a boxing bag, or find some sweet, innocent children to play with for awhile.  Being a grown up is harder than it looks.    

I guess we all go through those times in life when we are in a new situation and it’s truly challenging and the answers aren’t clear.  As children, we thought our parents and the other adults knew what to do.  Sometimes they did, but many times they didn’t.  We are still looking to the generation(s) above us to know the answers, even in situations that are new to them.  It seems like part of the growing up process to recognize that there are situations when even the most experienced and wise want to throw their hands up and run around because they don’t know what to do.  Sometimes being a grown up means that you evaluate the situation and make the best choice possible given the information you have and you pray to God that it’s the right thing to do.  And if possible, you go home after that, curl up on the couch, and let the tears come.  Oh yeah, and then you go get a massage…