I have two beautiful children. Both a joy to my heart. Like every mother, I have had my share of dealing with their sometimes stubborn nature. When my son was three, he had this nasty habit of sticking his hand inside the VCR. He would stick his hand inside and I would tell him "no" and he would stop, giggle and run off to play.
One day, he decided to make a stand. He walked over, stuck his hand inside the VCR and looked at me, glaringly. I told him "no" in my normal firm voice but this time, no giggle and no running off. He stood his ground. I walked over and said "no" again this time gently smacking his hand. He did not remove his hand. He did not make eye contact. He stood stiff, defiant. I smacked a wee bit harder. Still nothing.
I began smacking his hand and telling him "no" once every minute. Nothing. Stubborn child stood there, hand in VCR. As the minutes clicked on, I began to understand this was one of those moments that would define our relationship. I am single mom and I needed my son to understand that he needed to obey me. I needed him to know that my "no" meant NO and that I had the wherewithal to go the distance and stand my ground.
As you might imagine though I did not strengthen the intensity of smack, his had begun to get red and puffy. Watching this, my heart began to break but I did not relent, knowing that I wasn't hurting him, but I was teaching him. For me as a mother, it really was one of those "it's hurting me more that it is hurting you moments". I did not want to break his will, but I did need it to bend towards mine.
This went on and on for about an hour. I kept my emotions buried. He needed to see me be strong; to know I meant what I said. Finally, he removed his puffy, red hand from the VCR, turned and said, "Mommy, I am sorry". He threw his arms around my neck and cried for the first time. He cried until he wore himself out and then went to his room, lied down and napped. Then I cried. It sucked but from that point forward, he obeyed me without me having to flex much muscle.
God has lead my life into places over the years that I could not have imagined. Places both high and low...He is teaching me. From time to time, I catch myself standing stiff in defiance and not wanting to bend to His will. I have accused Him of not loving and even punishing me. I have threatened Him (HA! as if I have power over anything but myself). But God is a better father than I am a mother. He did not smack although I am sure He watched in amazement as I smacked myself, repeatedly. He did let me live out the consequences to my stubborn choices.
One night in my bed, room dark...I pulled my hand out of the VCR and I told God, "I surrender". I began down the long road of learning to surrender my stubborn will. I was tired, and I wanted to throw my arms around Him, cry and take a nap. Life has a way of wearing us out when we don't let him protect and lead us or tell us "no". We all love to hear "yes", hate hearing "no" and sometimes ignore the "no" all together but I must admit to you, one of my life's greatest gifts was given to me by God answering "no" to my prayer: my sweet baby girl.
When my children were young, they did not know what was best for themselves. They had to learn. I had to teach them. It was my job as their mother. Sometimes, I have had to let them live out the tough consequences of their bad or stubborn choices. We don't always know what's best for ourselves either and like a good parent, God is always willing to teach and direct but of course, we must quit being stubborn.
The Israelites really struggled with their stubborn hearts. How many trips around mountain did they take before they finally pulled their collective heads out of their asses? They wandered in the desert for 40 years before they finally submitted and were allowed to enter the promised land. I have read their story many times and each time thought: how stupid! We are no different. Most of our sin spinning around the same stubborn attitudes; keeping us from spiritual, financial or physical breakthroughs and from real, abiding love.
As a Type-A , Red, High D, Choleric personality, I know that I am completely capable of making my way happen. I can be VERY stubborn. Each time I force my way, it always ends up a hot mess but for a good, long time I tried again and again. I had a plan and life was not living up to my expectations.
After I surrendered, my attitude changed. I swapped my want for His desire. My prayers transformed from selfish do this or that for me prayers into God tell me: where to go, who to be, who to love. My heart of stone was turned to flesh (Ezekiel 36:26). As my prayers changed, so did my heart and mind. I have often wondered why it took me so long to let Him convert my stubbornness into perseverance because the Bible has some pretty great things to say perseverance:
Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13:7
You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.
Hebrews 10:36
Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.
James 1:12
Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers.
1 Timothy 4:16
…we glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance. Perseverance produces character. Character produces hope and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
Romans 5:3-6
…you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
James 1:3-4
Friday, April 27, 2018
Friday, April 20, 2018
Prayer is not a gift.
Oh yeah... Christians reading this are getting pissed just at the title of the post but hold your horses and let me get out what I really believe needs to be said before you judge me...
I have a few friends who believe I have magic prayers. It is their opinion my prayers are more readily answered by God, so when they have something big or person crosses their path that needs prayer, they call me. I am humbled by their belief that my prayers work better than the average person but in truth, all of our prayers work the same. One person's prayers are not more important to God than another. I always tell them that prayer is not a spiritual gift like say: prophecy, healing, interpretation or miracles. Prayer is for everyone. Chances are, if you feel like your's fall on deaf ears, it is because are doing it wrong.
1: Prayer is a conversation.
Prayer is a conversation and as you know, when held properly, conversations are a means of two way communication. I was blessed in that I had some pretty amazing people teach me to pray. My favorite word of advice was from my Uncle Derald, who taught me that if I wasn't speaking to God like He was my very best friend then I was doing it wrong. I took that information to heart and I began praying less like a formal invitation for God to do my will or solve my problems and more like a hey how was your day to day because mine sucked.
To be honest, I have maybe at times taken it a bit too far in that I have yelled and screamed and cussed. A little too informal perhaps but I have also learned to shut up both mind and mouth, Letting my prayers be an open pathway to Him being able to speak directly to me through the Holy Spirit. In those quiet spaces, I find He does in fact, talk back...and clearly BUT I have to be still and willing.
2: Answers, when disliked are ignored.
Answers, when disliked are ignored and hence the second mistake we make is refusing to hear. We keep praying over and over the same dang thing and rant about He doesn't listen or how long He is making me wait. All the while, He is looking down at us, shaking His Holy head, thinking when are they ever gonna listen. Not liking the answer is not the same thing as Him not answering. Do you know the difference? God is not in the business of doing what you want. In fact, He rarely does what I want but never have I found His answer lacking what I need. Now, He may not give me what I want or need in my time frame and I have found myself frustrated more than a time or two at His timing but the bible says in Isaiah 55:8-9: My intentions are not always yours, and I do not go about things as you do. My thoughts and My ways are above and beyond you, just as heaven is far from your reach here on earth. Being as most of us have God in a box of some sort, it is hard for us to understand that we DO NOT have Him figured out. So if we won't listen, how will we know the answer? Additionally, if we refuse the answer, how can we hold Him accountable for us not doing what we are told? Directions only work when followed.
I love the idea of adventure but sometimes the actual adventure is scarier than the idea. I am beginning to accept that living a life for God is an adventure. I admit that the more I live for Him, the less I know where I am going and the scarier the adventure becomes BUT the more assured I am that everything is going to be alright. There is a peace in the surrender that just as Philippians 4:7 states: passes all understanding. Living for God at some point if you are doing it right, becomes a total oxymoron of sorts because as the deeper you get into understanding His nature and your part in His creation, the harder everything gets and yet the more you walk by faith not sight (2 Corinthians 5:7), the better you feel. The beginning of swimming in deep waters with Him is scary, at best. I am an excellent swimmer. I can keep my head above water all by myself for a very long time but sooner or later even the best swimmer gets tired. It is in that exact moment when your muscles all give out, your breathing is labored, your chest hurts, you are utterly exhausted, your mind believes you are going to die.. that moment of your greatness weakness that FINALLY you get a true, accurate glimpse of all God is...and you begin to understand that you, not Him, have made it hard because He is buoyant. HIS LOVE FLOATS!
My advice is that you learn from my experience: shut up, listen more, quit fighting Him so hard and swimming against His current. Relax into Him and let Him be your life preserver even if you are capable of winning gold at the Olympics in the 1500 meters.
I have a few friends who believe I have magic prayers. It is their opinion my prayers are more readily answered by God, so when they have something big or person crosses their path that needs prayer, they call me. I am humbled by their belief that my prayers work better than the average person but in truth, all of our prayers work the same. One person's prayers are not more important to God than another. I always tell them that prayer is not a spiritual gift like say: prophecy, healing, interpretation or miracles. Prayer is for everyone. Chances are, if you feel like your's fall on deaf ears, it is because are doing it wrong.
1: Prayer is a conversation.
Prayer is a conversation and as you know, when held properly, conversations are a means of two way communication. I was blessed in that I had some pretty amazing people teach me to pray. My favorite word of advice was from my Uncle Derald, who taught me that if I wasn't speaking to God like He was my very best friend then I was doing it wrong. I took that information to heart and I began praying less like a formal invitation for God to do my will or solve my problems and more like a hey how was your day to day because mine sucked.
To be honest, I have maybe at times taken it a bit too far in that I have yelled and screamed and cussed. A little too informal perhaps but I have also learned to shut up both mind and mouth, Letting my prayers be an open pathway to Him being able to speak directly to me through the Holy Spirit. In those quiet spaces, I find He does in fact, talk back...and clearly BUT I have to be still and willing.
2: Answers, when disliked are ignored.
Answers, when disliked are ignored and hence the second mistake we make is refusing to hear. We keep praying over and over the same dang thing and rant about He doesn't listen or how long He is making me wait. All the while, He is looking down at us, shaking His Holy head, thinking when are they ever gonna listen. Not liking the answer is not the same thing as Him not answering. Do you know the difference? God is not in the business of doing what you want. In fact, He rarely does what I want but never have I found His answer lacking what I need. Now, He may not give me what I want or need in my time frame and I have found myself frustrated more than a time or two at His timing but the bible says in Isaiah 55:8-9: My intentions are not always yours, and I do not go about things as you do. My thoughts and My ways are above and beyond you, just as heaven is far from your reach here on earth. Being as most of us have God in a box of some sort, it is hard for us to understand that we DO NOT have Him figured out. So if we won't listen, how will we know the answer? Additionally, if we refuse the answer, how can we hold Him accountable for us not doing what we are told? Directions only work when followed.
I love the idea of adventure but sometimes the actual adventure is scarier than the idea. I am beginning to accept that living a life for God is an adventure. I admit that the more I live for Him, the less I know where I am going and the scarier the adventure becomes BUT the more assured I am that everything is going to be alright. There is a peace in the surrender that just as Philippians 4:7 states: passes all understanding. Living for God at some point if you are doing it right, becomes a total oxymoron of sorts because as the deeper you get into understanding His nature and your part in His creation, the harder everything gets and yet the more you walk by faith not sight (2 Corinthians 5:7), the better you feel. The beginning of swimming in deep waters with Him is scary, at best. I am an excellent swimmer. I can keep my head above water all by myself for a very long time but sooner or later even the best swimmer gets tired. It is in that exact moment when your muscles all give out, your breathing is labored, your chest hurts, you are utterly exhausted, your mind believes you are going to die.. that moment of your greatness weakness that FINALLY you get a true, accurate glimpse of all God is...and you begin to understand that you, not Him, have made it hard because He is buoyant. HIS LOVE FLOATS!
My advice is that you learn from my experience: shut up, listen more, quit fighting Him so hard and swimming against His current. Relax into Him and let Him be your life preserver even if you are capable of winning gold at the Olympics in the 1500 meters.
An introduction:
Trying to decide what to say here even though I am not sure anyone but God is reading is just a little bit intimidating. Hence, today... I am going to post twice: first, I will post what I wrote two years ago to be the introduction to a book that I believe God is calling me to write> It should help you get to know me a bit if you don't already. To be honest, I haven't read it since I wrote it. Second, some thoughts on prayer. Enjoy.
…introduction
As I sit down to write to you, I must admit that I am a little
afraid. I am in no way an authority on
anything. I am not sure why God is
calling me to be vulnerable to you and to Him in this way when my life is a
mess. I am estranged from my sister and her
husband. I have road rage and potty
mouth. I really like tequila. I can’t find a date. Last year was just okay in business. My son is about to graduate from high school
and I can’t seem to wrangle him into nailing down a college. My daughter is engaged and that part is
amazing. I am overweight and am having a
hard time getting my butt back into the gym.
I am wary of the future. I am not
feeling yet all what He is asking me to discuss with you. I don’t have a college degree. I would freely admit that I have pretty much
done everything backwards.
But I am willing. I am
willing to sacrifice my want for His will.
I am willing to lay down my ideas for His truth. I am willing to hand over my fears for His confidence. I am willing.
I am seeking and the Bible says in Matthew 6:33 “But
seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will
be added to you.”
The Message says it like this:
“If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of
which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in
you, do His best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to
not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving.
People who don’t know God and the way He works fuss over these things, but you
know both God and how He works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative,
God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday
human concerns will be met.
This, I suppose, is the catalog of my journey of letting go of the
fussing and learning to relax so that I can respond to His giving. I miss so much because I don’t always allow
myself to be in the moment. I enjoy what
is happening, yes but I do not receive the full measure of it because I don’t
allow myself to relax, to trust that God truly has me.
Just because you can justify a behavior, doesn't make it right. Doubt
keeps you from confidently walking the path that God has illuminated as His way
for your life.
Sometimes, the hardest thing God can ask us to do is just be still
in our current situation. We want to look at it and say why God did you put me
here but the truth is, we put ourselves there. He gave us free will choice and
our choices lead us to this moment. We don't like the moment and so we look at
Him and fuss and pray. He looks back at us and says be still, be patient. We
can't handle that so we start moving again and mess it up even more. We do this
over and over again until our molehill is a mountain and we shake out fists
towards heaven and say things like I hate you, Lord. He shakes his head and
continues to love us and continues to ask us to be still. Only in our stillness
does He have room to do His work. We need to get out of His way.
The seeds of rebellion are found in the soul. I think (mind), I want
(will), I feel (emotions and/or heart). When Jesus speaks to us about how we
must die so that He might live, He's speaking to us about crucifying our souls
so that He can control our thoughts, our hearts and our will...in this way, He
can open us up to everything He has for us: His thoughts, His heart and His will
which are higher than ours. When God uses me to bless another, it's always
at my inconvenience. God's calling
doesn't suit man's convenience. – Derek Prince
We let who we think we are get in the way of who You created us to
be…
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
I'm not speeding...I'm qualifying.
For Meggan because she is the very best kind of best friend...
My mother taught me to be a defensive driver. My father taught me the best defense was being an offensive driver. My son always reminds me that I do not own the road to which I reply, "Babe, I own the lane I am in".
When my children were young, I used to sing them a song while weaving in and out of traffic about how I wanted to be a race car driver. I believe it is my right as an American and Texan to go 3-4 miles over the speed limit everywhere I go that isn't a school zone. I will gladly pay to take the toll around Austin to be able to legally drive 80mph, especially when the sun is out and the top is off my Jeep.
I often speak to the people driving with me on the road. Meggan and my son would say I have a bit of road rage but it's not like I am going to shoot anyone anything other than the finger. I am not shy about calling out the idiots on the road. Why people stop at yield or slow down to get on the highway is a true mystery to me. I am of the mindset that if you are not actively passing someone then you shouldn't hang out in the left lane. In fact, I have said I will know I am in hell if I am in the fast lane perpetually being forced 20 miles per hour under the speed limit for eternity. I love that I live in a state that has road signs that say: Don't Slow Texas Down. Behind the wheel, my given competitive nature still comes out and in full force. But in my daily life, it has been tempered by my experiences and hopefully, the Holy Spirit.
I joke that when I climb behind the wheel, that's the only time I lose my Jesus but in reality, nothing can separate us from the love of God. Romans 8:38 speaks to this truth. Metaphorically speaking... I have made right hand turns, causing unnecessary accidents when I was running a race around an oval track. I have tried to go continually straight on a road course. I have driven a open wheeled car at a NASCAR event and I have tried to race a dragster while riding a motorcycle. I have, and many times purposely, went the opposite direction of not only the crowd but God and yet nothing I have done has ever been able to separate me from His love.
I have laid upon the abortion table. I have screamed and cussed at Him that He hates me. I am a child of the '80's and lived the whole: sex, drugs and rock-n-roll thing. I built a wall around myself in the form of 150lbs of extra weight. I have listened to the lies of a thing sent to kill and destroy me over believing the truth of the One who created me. I have taken Him for granted and not understood His love or given it away as I should. I mean to tell you... I have not been idle in trying to prove He doesn't love me and yet, have been completely unsuccessful in separating myself from it.
He chases me with the beauty of creation and the wonder of the cosmos. He sings to me through the voice of Walt Wilkins or Aaron Watson or my Pastor's daughter, Susie on Sunday morning. He writes to me not just through the Bible but the words of Donald Miller, Bob Goff, Christine Caine and Jennie Allen, just to name of few. He fist bumps and hugs me at the end of a long week via the hands and arms of the biker ministry that makes up the family of my home: my church. He tells me I am good using the mouth of a man who twists any negative thing that might fall out of my mouth upon his ear into something positive. He reminds me I am worthy of love through the quality time and always perfectly chosen gifts that my sweet friends, Meggan and Jeff bestow me (including a pair of bad ass socks quoted above: I'm not speeding, I'm qualifying). He tells me repeatedly that I am valuable just a He created me to be through the men at my church who are the husbands of the women I respect, love and adore; women who are strong, loud, capable and independent. He has called me beautiful and though I have fought hard not to receive it, He tracks me down through waitresses, friends and total strangers alike until I HAVE to listen, have to believe.
He doesn't see what we see when we look into the mirror or our hearts because His grace is sufficient to cover all our sin, all our mistakes, all our heartache and the whole of our past. He sees you: the you He created in all it's perfection. He knows, as only a father can, all that you are and all you will be and He sees good. He does the same for me ... especially now: as I, finally submitted, am becoming a product of my Father's love.
My mother taught me to be a defensive driver. My father taught me the best defense was being an offensive driver. My son always reminds me that I do not own the road to which I reply, "Babe, I own the lane I am in".
When my children were young, I used to sing them a song while weaving in and out of traffic about how I wanted to be a race car driver. I believe it is my right as an American and Texan to go 3-4 miles over the speed limit everywhere I go that isn't a school zone. I will gladly pay to take the toll around Austin to be able to legally drive 80mph, especially when the sun is out and the top is off my Jeep.
I often speak to the people driving with me on the road. Meggan and my son would say I have a bit of road rage but it's not like I am going to shoot anyone anything other than the finger. I am not shy about calling out the idiots on the road. Why people stop at yield or slow down to get on the highway is a true mystery to me. I am of the mindset that if you are not actively passing someone then you shouldn't hang out in the left lane. In fact, I have said I will know I am in hell if I am in the fast lane perpetually being forced 20 miles per hour under the speed limit for eternity. I love that I live in a state that has road signs that say: Don't Slow Texas Down. Behind the wheel, my given competitive nature still comes out and in full force. But in my daily life, it has been tempered by my experiences and hopefully, the Holy Spirit.
I joke that when I climb behind the wheel, that's the only time I lose my Jesus but in reality, nothing can separate us from the love of God. Romans 8:38 speaks to this truth. Metaphorically speaking... I have made right hand turns, causing unnecessary accidents when I was running a race around an oval track. I have tried to go continually straight on a road course. I have driven a open wheeled car at a NASCAR event and I have tried to race a dragster while riding a motorcycle. I have, and many times purposely, went the opposite direction of not only the crowd but God and yet nothing I have done has ever been able to separate me from His love.
I have laid upon the abortion table. I have screamed and cussed at Him that He hates me. I am a child of the '80's and lived the whole: sex, drugs and rock-n-roll thing. I built a wall around myself in the form of 150lbs of extra weight. I have listened to the lies of a thing sent to kill and destroy me over believing the truth of the One who created me. I have taken Him for granted and not understood His love or given it away as I should. I mean to tell you... I have not been idle in trying to prove He doesn't love me and yet, have been completely unsuccessful in separating myself from it.
He chases me with the beauty of creation and the wonder of the cosmos. He sings to me through the voice of Walt Wilkins or Aaron Watson or my Pastor's daughter, Susie on Sunday morning. He writes to me not just through the Bible but the words of Donald Miller, Bob Goff, Christine Caine and Jennie Allen, just to name of few. He fist bumps and hugs me at the end of a long week via the hands and arms of the biker ministry that makes up the family of my home: my church. He tells me I am good using the mouth of a man who twists any negative thing that might fall out of my mouth upon his ear into something positive. He reminds me I am worthy of love through the quality time and always perfectly chosen gifts that my sweet friends, Meggan and Jeff bestow me (including a pair of bad ass socks quoted above: I'm not speeding, I'm qualifying). He tells me repeatedly that I am valuable just a He created me to be through the men at my church who are the husbands of the women I respect, love and adore; women who are strong, loud, capable and independent. He has called me beautiful and though I have fought hard not to receive it, He tracks me down through waitresses, friends and total strangers alike until I HAVE to listen, have to believe.
He doesn't see what we see when we look into the mirror or our hearts because His grace is sufficient to cover all our sin, all our mistakes, all our heartache and the whole of our past. He sees you: the you He created in all it's perfection. He knows, as only a father can, all that you are and all you will be and He sees good. He does the same for me ... especially now: as I, finally submitted, am becoming a product of my Father's love.
Friday, April 13, 2018
Y'all just have to hang in there with me...
So...
Jennie Allen's Instagram yesterday suggested that I just get on with it...that thing that God has put on my heart to begin that I have spent perhaps years avoiding because frankly, I feel like an unworthy dork but as Yoda and my Mama say: there is no try; only do or do not and I am past the point of wanting to be willingly disobedient. While this is a place to begin the journey of writing a book, I am going to start with a story:
This past weekend, my father's collector car auction house held an auction in our hometown of San Antonio. At that auction, we sold a 1967 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray T-Top Coupe. I am a car girl hence the exactness of my label. Anyway, we sold this Corvette and then one of our staff drove it into a chain link fence. No real speed was involved; so no major damage was done but there were two small scratches, both less than an inch. The head of my logistics staff and the head of site set up both looked the vehicle over along with the upset, now new owner. All took photos. A conversation was had about responsibility and the procedure to get in touch with me about getting the scratches fixed. The information conveyed to me was: car was scratched, here are photos, buyer paid for the car and signed all the paperwork including the as-is, car went home with new buyer. No one imparted to me a promise made that I, myself would contact this man no later than Tuesday.
Post auction (the week directly following an auction) is a very busy time. I must collect monies due, begin paying monies out, start title transfers, coordinate transportation, pay bills... you get the idea. The first few days especially, are a whirlwind. Normally post auction, I work a longer than normal day but Wednesday both my father and my son had medical procedures scheduled; so I only worked until noon. My father had an angiogram. I was prepared for the possibility of surgery to follow as my mother had that experience over a year ago. My son was having an endoscopy. It is a simple in and out. Just a little biopsy to verify celiac disease. My father's went better than expected, smoothly and home four hours after his procedure. My son... was a bit rougher.
We arrived half an hour early as recommended which meant noon. Endoscopy means he was unable to drink or eat anything since midnight. One and a half hours after our appointment time, my hangry son asks the front desk, "how much longer"? About fifteen minutes later, we are given an explanation, an apology and told we are second in line. Another hour maybe. My child is hungry, frustrated, irritated and turning into any one of the characters from the Snickers commercials that are grumpy until someone finally hands them the candy bar. Finally, our time arrives and it is just a bit past 2pm. The procedure is quick and they bring him back to me still asleep from the anesthesia. The doctor comes and shows me the images from esophagus and stomach. Images that show damage and other issues including a possible precancerous situation. I sit very still as she speaks and no tears escape until I am alone with my sleeping boy. Stunned, I pray.
He was tough to wake up. He is an insomniac and likes to sleep. The nurses finally had me rouse him as their efforts were futile. We had a funny moment of him not believing the endoscopy had even begun, let alone was over. As he began to come to, he asked what they found. I had to repeat myself a few times as he was still a bit incoherent. As the information started to seep in, my hangry, groggy manchild became angry. Said words he regretted later and I left him to settle down and get dressed thinking we were done and ready to leave. I sat alone in the waiting area for too long but not feeling like I could just walk back into the pre/post surgery area, I continued to wait. Finally, the nurse came out and asked if I could bring the car around. When he got settled into the car, he said, "you left me". I said, "no, babe...I gave you space to think and calm down. I told you I would just be in the lobby." Foggy, he didn't remember this conversation which meant, I did leave him. He sat and waited for me to come back and when I didn't, sat alone as they went over the findings once again with him. We were both alone as we heard the words precancerous. That just sucks.
I took him to eat and we cried then deciding Target was a cure all, headed for a bit of retail therapy. We arrived back at the house around 7pm. My parents were there relaxing and we updated them on everything and after changing into something more comfortable, decided to watch Disney's Coco as a family. That brought the tension down to manageable. Feeling bolstered, I went upstairs to my room more than ready for bed. Decided to wind down further with a little How the Universe Works. Sat on my bed after washing my face, praying a bit, talking to a few friends who were checking up on me and opened by email. In my email box was an angry note from a man who had been promised a call no later than Tuesday. He was letting me know his displeasure with my absence from the office today and if not contacted by noon tomorrow, he was cancelling his purchase of the '73 Vette ... over two little scratches. Weary, I replied that I knew he had been told where exactly I was today and that my day had not gone as planned. I told him I would appreciate his compassion and would do my best to reply to his needs by noon tomorrow but would not do so at the expense of my son. He would come first.
As twenty year olds do, he bounced back after a good night of sleep and we both proceeded on with our days. I investigated the scratch and interviewed our employees to test the validity of the man's story. After which, I contacted three people capable of fixing the scratch for an idea of cost. I called the man at 11am to let him know that we were taking responsibility for fixing the scratch and that I had called around to a few people for a price. He answered jovially. I replied matter of factly. After giving him the information he needed, he asked if he could apologize to me. Explained he was a pastor and ashamed of his behavior. Asked for my forgiveness which I readily gave without emotion or gratitude. He suggested that perhaps, he and his wife were to pray for my son and that perhaps that's why all this was happening as it was. The entire time he spoke to me, all I could think was I was glad he wasn't my pastor. He claimed to be humbled. He said he should have trusted God was handling it as he knew my father and I were believers. I forgave him truly in that moment but I also judged him as a man lacking. I was still cold.
Twenty four hours later, I have more grace for him as we are ALL lacking but I have to say, I am still glad he is not my pastor. He could be right. Maybe he is supposed to pray for my son. Maybe he needed a lesson in humility. Maybe I in forgiving those who transgress against me. All I know is that in the end, my deepest thoughts were that he as a pastor, without knowing what sort of day I had, lashed out even though he knew I wasn't merely taking a personal day. We all allow our emotions to rule our heads from time to time. I am recommending to myself: taking a breath and not simply reacting to the emotions of others is always better way to be.
The Bible says in Matthew 7:16 that we will know each other by our fruit. I would have never guessed based on that man's actions and words to my staff or to me that he was a pastor. I hope he can see I am a believer.
Jennie Allen's Instagram yesterday suggested that I just get on with it...that thing that God has put on my heart to begin that I have spent perhaps years avoiding because frankly, I feel like an unworthy dork but as Yoda and my Mama say: there is no try; only do or do not and I am past the point of wanting to be willingly disobedient. While this is a place to begin the journey of writing a book, I am going to start with a story:
This past weekend, my father's collector car auction house held an auction in our hometown of San Antonio. At that auction, we sold a 1967 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray T-Top Coupe. I am a car girl hence the exactness of my label. Anyway, we sold this Corvette and then one of our staff drove it into a chain link fence. No real speed was involved; so no major damage was done but there were two small scratches, both less than an inch. The head of my logistics staff and the head of site set up both looked the vehicle over along with the upset, now new owner. All took photos. A conversation was had about responsibility and the procedure to get in touch with me about getting the scratches fixed. The information conveyed to me was: car was scratched, here are photos, buyer paid for the car and signed all the paperwork including the as-is, car went home with new buyer. No one imparted to me a promise made that I, myself would contact this man no later than Tuesday.
Post auction (the week directly following an auction) is a very busy time. I must collect monies due, begin paying monies out, start title transfers, coordinate transportation, pay bills... you get the idea. The first few days especially, are a whirlwind. Normally post auction, I work a longer than normal day but Wednesday both my father and my son had medical procedures scheduled; so I only worked until noon. My father had an angiogram. I was prepared for the possibility of surgery to follow as my mother had that experience over a year ago. My son was having an endoscopy. It is a simple in and out. Just a little biopsy to verify celiac disease. My father's went better than expected, smoothly and home four hours after his procedure. My son... was a bit rougher.
We arrived half an hour early as recommended which meant noon. Endoscopy means he was unable to drink or eat anything since midnight. One and a half hours after our appointment time, my hangry son asks the front desk, "how much longer"? About fifteen minutes later, we are given an explanation, an apology and told we are second in line. Another hour maybe. My child is hungry, frustrated, irritated and turning into any one of the characters from the Snickers commercials that are grumpy until someone finally hands them the candy bar. Finally, our time arrives and it is just a bit past 2pm. The procedure is quick and they bring him back to me still asleep from the anesthesia. The doctor comes and shows me the images from esophagus and stomach. Images that show damage and other issues including a possible precancerous situation. I sit very still as she speaks and no tears escape until I am alone with my sleeping boy. Stunned, I pray.
He was tough to wake up. He is an insomniac and likes to sleep. The nurses finally had me rouse him as their efforts were futile. We had a funny moment of him not believing the endoscopy had even begun, let alone was over. As he began to come to, he asked what they found. I had to repeat myself a few times as he was still a bit incoherent. As the information started to seep in, my hangry, groggy manchild became angry. Said words he regretted later and I left him to settle down and get dressed thinking we were done and ready to leave. I sat alone in the waiting area for too long but not feeling like I could just walk back into the pre/post surgery area, I continued to wait. Finally, the nurse came out and asked if I could bring the car around. When he got settled into the car, he said, "you left me". I said, "no, babe...I gave you space to think and calm down. I told you I would just be in the lobby." Foggy, he didn't remember this conversation which meant, I did leave him. He sat and waited for me to come back and when I didn't, sat alone as they went over the findings once again with him. We were both alone as we heard the words precancerous. That just sucks.
I took him to eat and we cried then deciding Target was a cure all, headed for a bit of retail therapy. We arrived back at the house around 7pm. My parents were there relaxing and we updated them on everything and after changing into something more comfortable, decided to watch Disney's Coco as a family. That brought the tension down to manageable. Feeling bolstered, I went upstairs to my room more than ready for bed. Decided to wind down further with a little How the Universe Works. Sat on my bed after washing my face, praying a bit, talking to a few friends who were checking up on me and opened by email. In my email box was an angry note from a man who had been promised a call no later than Tuesday. He was letting me know his displeasure with my absence from the office today and if not contacted by noon tomorrow, he was cancelling his purchase of the '73 Vette ... over two little scratches. Weary, I replied that I knew he had been told where exactly I was today and that my day had not gone as planned. I told him I would appreciate his compassion and would do my best to reply to his needs by noon tomorrow but would not do so at the expense of my son. He would come first.
As twenty year olds do, he bounced back after a good night of sleep and we both proceeded on with our days. I investigated the scratch and interviewed our employees to test the validity of the man's story. After which, I contacted three people capable of fixing the scratch for an idea of cost. I called the man at 11am to let him know that we were taking responsibility for fixing the scratch and that I had called around to a few people for a price. He answered jovially. I replied matter of factly. After giving him the information he needed, he asked if he could apologize to me. Explained he was a pastor and ashamed of his behavior. Asked for my forgiveness which I readily gave without emotion or gratitude. He suggested that perhaps, he and his wife were to pray for my son and that perhaps that's why all this was happening as it was. The entire time he spoke to me, all I could think was I was glad he wasn't my pastor. He claimed to be humbled. He said he should have trusted God was handling it as he knew my father and I were believers. I forgave him truly in that moment but I also judged him as a man lacking. I was still cold.
Twenty four hours later, I have more grace for him as we are ALL lacking but I have to say, I am still glad he is not my pastor. He could be right. Maybe he is supposed to pray for my son. Maybe he needed a lesson in humility. Maybe I in forgiving those who transgress against me. All I know is that in the end, my deepest thoughts were that he as a pastor, without knowing what sort of day I had, lashed out even though he knew I wasn't merely taking a personal day. We all allow our emotions to rule our heads from time to time. I am recommending to myself: taking a breath and not simply reacting to the emotions of others is always better way to be.
The Bible says in Matthew 7:16 that we will know each other by our fruit. I would have never guessed based on that man's actions and words to my staff or to me that he was a pastor. I hope he can see I am a believer.
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