Tag: Perspective

Don’t Let Them Take You Out

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Have you ever been so frustrated that you want to scream? Not a muffle it into a pillow one–I mean an out loud, full volume, no holds barred, elongated blood curdling scream that would likely elicit a concerned neighbor’s 911 call. I only remember doing this once in my life, and it was earlier this year (thankfully I wasn’t at my home because I let it out). Instead of unleashing another (unfortunately I am at home), I’m writing. Call me dramatic if you want, but that’s my current state. Let me paint this picture for you…

Hmmm, where shall I start? I missed the call last week (Tuesday) that Mama was headed to the ER because my phone died–as is blue screen of death followed by black where phone would not turn on. Made appt with Apple’s Genius Bar for next day (Wednesday afternoon). Wednesday morning, I found out about the ER visit when I opened email on my laptop, saw a dozen+ “My Chart” updates, and called my aunt to see what was going on. Mama was released with antibiotics for an UTI. I go to my Apple appointment, and after a couple hours of trying, end up having to buy a new phone (thank goodness I’d done a backup on my PC less than a month ago when I had to replace cracked screen on the now dead phone). Get home several hours later (we missed lunch dealing with all the aforementioned stuff) after having a nice dinner and “resetting,” try to restore new phone via backup, and no dice. Work through tech support via chat and phone, get a case number so Apple can reset my account, which will take approximately three days. Lovely, I am now the proud owner of an expensive dumb smart phone.

On Thursday, Mama goes back to the ER, this time she’s admitted…Friday afternoon. Mind you, I live 4+ hours away. After multiple text conversations with my aunties (aka her sisters), we decide IF she’ll call when the nurses and/or doctors are there, I could manage her care from here. You see, although Mama will tell you she “has all her nuggies,” she’s cognitively impaired…as in, documented by a medical professional, beyond the “normal” age-related memory decline. I have MPOA and advocate on her behalf because she does not have the capacity to do so. And she fights me–on this and so many things. So much so, I’ve had to reframe our relationship, which started with calling her “Mama.”

If you’re keeping up with this page, you may remember me saying my “Mom” died in January–this is to say, my mom-in-love (aka my hubby’s mom). You may think me cruel when I say my birth mother ceased to exist years ago. That’s the only way I can wrap my head around how she’s treated me for decades and still care for her, hence “Mama” was born and became my 30+ hour a week job. Back to the timeline…

The weekend is spent pouring over labs, scans, and anything else I can access trying to piece together for a plan that addresses Mama’s excruciating pain that has landed her in the ER twice in a two day period. No word back from Apple about my account, so I don’t have access to any of my contacts, calendar, and dagnabbit, I’ve now lost my Duolingo streak. The project that I need to work on requires info that Apple has hostage, and Mama is refusing to call me when any nurse and/or doctor visits. I couldn’t even phone a friend to vent because I’ve become that phone dependent (remember when we actually memorized numbers?!). Cut to today.

I get a call at 7am from Mama telling me “she’s still here,” and woke up crying because she’s in so much pain. I ask if she’d like me to come down and sit with her, “no thanks.” I remind her (as have both aunties) that I cannot help her if she won’t let me. Mama has been masking for a very long time, and in brief interactions, she seems “fine.” I’m faced, yet again, with the “should I stay or should I go now” (without the melodic tune) saga. FINALLY, a doctor stops by and Mama calls. I’m able to hear from the professional what’s being done and make my case for additional imaging (which order has been played and prayerfully will occur before discharge). Oh, did I also mention this is in between messaging/talking with Apple again after receiving recovery email, which still doesn’t unlock my expensive dumb smart phone and requires “further escalation” to the tune of another 24/28 hours?

I full well realize my phone issue is a first world problem. But Mama? That’s another animal. I’ve had people ask why I’m still involved and trying to help. “Boundaries,” they say. At the end of the day, “Mama” is still my mom–regardless of her diminished mental capacity and how desperately I try to separate the two. At my core, I know regardless of how frustratingly difficult this (she) is, I cannot simply walk away. I have to do what feels right within my own skin. Because when she does leave this Earth, I will have to live with the choices I’ve made. I’m not sure if that’s right or wrong. I just know that’s where I’m at…

There’s a Keith James song, “Not My Day,” that’s playing on repeat in my head. You should listen to it. I was stuck in the first 2/3 of the song which is focuses around all the things that make it “not my day.” Thinking it’ll make me feel better, I play it. Someone to commiserate with. First verse: yep, his day is pretty bad too. Bridge: peach!. Chorus: “Not My Day” SAMSIES. Second verse: more of his bad day, feel that too. Then the bridge again, only this time it hits a little different.

“If my luck doesn’t change
I’ll be out of my brain by tonight
When your head’s out of place
You’re behind in the race of life”

Keith James, “Not my day,” KHS 2013

Read those last two lines again. Now here’s the third verse…

“Oh oh oh
What you treasure is who you are
Go and get it
Oh oh oh
If it starts to fall apart
Give it all you got ’cause
Folks will hurt, and down your worth
Don’t let them take you out”

Keith James, “Not my day,” KHS 2013

Then the final chorus changes from “not my day” to “maybe it’s just not their day.” Throwing in “won’t let them hold me down” before returning to the familiar song title, “No My Day” chorus at the end. Huh…somehow I missed that last 1/3 in the version playing in my head. Don’t let them. I control the narrative. I can choose whether I’ll continue to spiral. I will treasure and prioritize my own peace.

My aunties and I joked that even Jesus has stepped away shaking His head at this whole Mama situation. Obviously not, we all know better than that. It did bring levity to the situation, which was the whole point. So, now that I’ve written, revised, stewed about whether or not to share this over the last few hours, I’m posting for you.

You, my friend, who has an aging parent you are now trying to shepherd.

You, my friend, who has a loved one with an impairment.

You, my friend, who is grieving the loss of relationship.

You, my friend, who is just having a hard day.

You, my friend.

Don’t let them take you out. *hugs*

A Little Less Strange

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A Little Less Strange

I can feel them—hot, wet, unwanted. Having no idea where they came from—(lack of sleep? hellacious calamity of errors over the last 36 hours?)—I chalk them up to yet another thing I cannot control.  “The seatbelt sign is on, please return to your seat with your seatbelt securely fastened.” We’ve hit a bumpy patch, less than ten minutes since the all clear, smooth skies ahead declaration. In my row 24 middle seat, I sit in my customized version of Alanis Morriset’s “Ironic.” 

I’m on my way home from a two plus week whirlwind tour of Italy and the Mediterranean coast, watching “Under the Tuscan Sun” on an airline I’ll not soon use again, and I can’t comprehend why I’m crying. Thankfully, not the ugly kind. Just the moderately concerned, sideways glances of “The Princess Diaries” window seat girl next to me kind. *sigh* Life is strange. 

Here’s the part where I’d usually stop, because I’ve temporarily scratched enough of the writing itch to feel satisfied. At least that’s what I tell myself. It’s easier that way—leaving out the tender bits underneath. I think we all feel that way. 

Smile for the camera. Post the color corrected pic. Put on a good show. No one wants to see raw pink skin that’s barely holding it together once the scab has been removed. It might bleed again at any moment, which is messy and unpleasant. 

Why are we so desperate to seem put together when most of us are secretely falling apart? It’s definitely a learned trait. The crying toddler in row 23 is a prime example. He’s not happy, something is definitely off, and he is unabashedly letting everyone in the plane know it. The mother frantically tries to playcate him.  “I know, I wanna cry too,” she says as he wails. People stare. This is “unacceptable” behavior and everyone knows it. Again I ask, why? Why is it socially frowned upon to show your unfiltered emotions?

Since I’m without internet, I cannot Google an appropriate Bible verse to refute this unnatural practice. Yes that is a transparent admission that I do not have every chapter/verse memorized. What I can do is recall the countless times I read the word “wailed.” Or multiple references to tearing one’s clothes off in despair. I believe these displays of emotion are captured in the Bible because they are real. Natural. And therefore not shameful. 

So in my REA/L moment with you today, I’d like to humbly remind you that we are all a little raw beneath the surface, AND THAT’S OK. If we collectively try to treat each other with tenderness, our wounds might heal a little faster. If we tend to those brave enough to show their authentic self with compassion, there might be more sincerity. If we are willing the bear each other’s burdens, instead of burying them, life might feel a little less strange. Or at least less isolating. That’s my two cents anyway. 

My seat back is up and tray table is stowed for landing. As we descend, I’m thankful for the “unpleasantries” of this flight. Ok that’s not entirely true. I’m thankful for His divine revelation and gift of these words. May they prove helpful in your journey today my friend. 

Breathe

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Breathe

“Give me a couple days to come up for air.” “I’m just now able to catch my breath.” “When things slow down and I can breathe again…”

Any of these sound familiar? We run around, stretching ourselves so thin, we forget to do the very thing that gives us life: breathe. Denying ourselves the space and opportunity to breathe reeks havoc on our bodies, raises our stress levels, and renders us virtually incapable of handling “the small stuff.”

The funniest part? We don’t even realize we’re not breathing! “Breathe…” I repeatedly used to hear during PT. I would focus so diligently on whatever task was immediately at hand, that apparently, I quite literally forget to breathe. And as I unknowingly held my breath, things increasingly became more and more difficult. You feel me? Am I alone on this one?

When God created Adam, He breathed life into him. When Jesus returned and revealed Himself to His disciples, He breathed on them in order to receive the Holy Spirit. Breath and breathing, you see, are vitally important in life—enough that the Bible specifically references it more than once.

When you breathe, you allow room to receive. You create a space that’s conducive to work within. You enable oxygen to flow through your body, which improves healing, performance, and a plethora of other beneficial items. So why on Earth do we cripple ourselves trying to do more, when it causes us to forget the basics?

Hilariously (or not so), I wrote this four years ago. I am profoundly aware of the divine timing in which my own words resurfaced in FB memories. Isn’t it incredible how God works both through and ahead of us? I appreciate His timing even when I can’t fathom the “why” of the moment. Here’s where I take a deep breath, sigh, and audibly exhale.

Friends, let’s learn to breathe again.
Let’s stop drowning ourselves in the “more” this world idolizes, preoccupying ourselves with the devil’s “what if’s,” and withholding the very thing that gives us life. Let’s become better in the basics…it may just be the breath of life that revives us, giving us the opportunity to breathe life into others alongside our own journey.
Breathe, my friends. Just breathe.

Revelation

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Revelation

There’s a beautiful blue sky and sun shining outside my window. I was briefly able to bask in its warmth earlier this morning. What a gift! It’s funny how much truth is in the adage “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” (You’re welcome for that throwback Cinderella earwig.)

It’s days like today that I should marvel in my numerous blessings, yet here I am…ashamed of how I squander them. How I can go from gratefulness one moment to disparagement in what seems like the blink of an eye? It lends sight into my fickle heart. In the middle of my wrestle, I was able to encapsulate how I felt with this picture.

Our sweet pup, sitting on dead grass, next to a needs to be replaced fence, drenched in His glorious warmth as she lifts her head heavenward in a silent thank you. This is where I wish to reside. Unaffected by the absence of posh surroundings, yet unabashedly lavishing in His generosity.

“May He grant you your heart’s desire and fulfill all your plans. We will sing joyously over your victory, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners. May the Lord fulfill all your petitions.”

Psalm 20:4-5AMP

Thank you, Lord, for this revelation and victory over my circumstances. I praise your precious and holy name. Amen

IMprove

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IMprove

When I pry my eyes open to see what time it is, my head begins to pound. I’m not sure if it’s just rebelling against the thought of getting out of bed or an actual headache. Well, let’s see…

I throw the covers off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, eyes still closed. Once my feet hit the floor, I forcibly pry my lids open. So. Very. Bright. This sends an immediate signal to my head—thump, thump. I hesitate briefly, seriously considering crawling back into bed.

Not gonna do it (said in my best Dana Carvey as George Bush voice), and I open the doors to our bathroom. So. Very. Very. Bright. The brilliant morning sunlight fills the entire room. *Sigh* Ok, lemme see how I feel after I get dressed. Maybe it’s not a headache…

The chilly air necessitates long sleeves and pants. “Alexa, what is the current tempurature” I mumble—part of my daily ritual. “Currently, it’s 41 degrees,” she replies. Burr! Bright AND cold! Ugh, why did I say I’d go for a walk this morning?

Dressed, I walk into the living room and open the blinds. My eyes acquiesce to the additional blazing assault, calibrating as they continue to focus. My head decides it’s just unhappy I’ve ignored the multiple protests and falls in line as well.

Coffee. Must have coffee.

I sink into the couch with my favorite mug and let the warmth radiate into my hands. My mouth welcomes the smooth blend of beans with perfectly frothed milk. Can I simply sit here all morning? What if my waking partner cancels? Surely that would be my green light to stay comfortably situated and take the morning off.

As if on cue, my phone dings. Message reads: not feeling great and not ready to get up. *Sigh* Well, there’s my sign. Question is how should I read it?

As I consider, I continue sipping my coffee and start strolling. Lots of #10yearsChallenge and #21DaysOfFasting posts. Seriously? Ugh! FINE! I’ll get up and go on the stupid walk. “I’m taking you with me, let’s go” I say to our pup and grab the necessities for us both. She seems much happier about this than me, tail excitedly wagging.

I step outside. Did I mention it was 41 degrees? Burr! This Texas girl does not like the cold! Neither do my lungs, as they instantly protest the intrusion of blustery winter air. It’ll be fine, just a quick twenty minute walk I tell myself. I tuck the end of leash inside my pockets along with my freezing hands.

Once I got about halfway through my trek, my mind revisited those previous posts. What did I want to see in myself ten years down the road? For my husband and family? While I full well realize I cannot control their actions, I certainly have the power to influence them! Which got me thinking, instead of fasting, maybe I should consider incorporating.

January is the token month for resolutions started and usually dismissed, present company included in this faulty process. How many times have I said “this year will be different” and talked myself right out of any resolution or motivation? Usually in less than 21 days. Yes, pitifully, I’ll own it. *OUCH*

Improve, the voice inside me speaks with conviction. Improve! I think about the word, and because my mind works in acronyms, this revelation sobers me: I Must Prove to IMprove.

I must prove to myself I’m worth the work.

I must prove to my family that it’s possible.

I must hold tighter to my vision than vices.

Truly, what is twenty minutes (or more) of scrolling every day going to net me in 10 years? Will I look back and wish I’d wasted more of my time watching others live their lives? Does that actually benefit me in any positive way? I think not!

I want to write. I want to be healthier. I want to grow as a person. I want to do aerial yoga, like I saw some one post. I want to connect in real life with my friends. I want to pick an activity and have someone join me once a month. I want to travel.

I want more—for myself and my family—without the addition of useless stuff that I probably won’t remember, much less care about, come next January. Wow, this walk is proving to be of far greater value than I realized! As they say, “The proof is in the pudding.”

My steps become lighter, breathing easier, and body warmer. Despite my initial reticence to doing something so simple for myself, the Lord blessed me with this significant revelation.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.”

Psalm 34:8 NIV

Lord, thank you for helping me resist the temptation to give up on myself and you today. You desire so much more for my life. I know in my heart you immeasurably bless me when I seek and listen to you. Hold me accountable, Lord, to improving and turning from my slothful ways—not just this month but well beyond. It scares me to offer myself up to your correction for any missteps ; however, I know you are a loving God and will make all things good.

That was difficult to put into writing and share. Now, as I conclude this attempt to capture my morning, I leave you with this REA/L thought: whatever time it is, however busy you may think you are, consider what your actions are proving and to whom.

reality

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reality

Let’s start with the title, “reality.” It’s intentionally all lowercase, which looks odd, out of place. The off center picture reveals a lackluster sink drain. And the mess? That all came out when I finger combed through my hair, prompting me to write this.

What we think should be our reality and what is reality does not consistently coexist. Unexpected events will alter plans, which is frustrating. Things aren’t always perfectly polished and wrapped up with a pretty bow, counter to the end of every Hallmark movie. When stuff isn’t in its correct place or done “just so,” it’s disconcerting and sticks out like a sore thumb.

However, this picture, I’d venture to guess, might just sum up most of our holistic lives. The “un”pin-worthy deleted pic. The unfashionable phenomenon called real life. The junk we don’t talk about or share, because honestly, it’s vexing. Who really needs another bitter spoonful of reality?

WE DO! Life isn’t all gumdrops and roses.

We need to see others’ unsuccessful attempts. It may keep us from making the same mistake, or better, help us realize it’s truly normal not always getting it right.

We need to hear about the “unspoken” harsh truths of aging, depression, conflict…things most of us will likely experience but don’t want to acknowledge.

We need to feel included in our painful loneliness.

I would dare to say it’s our obligation to keep it REA/L if for no other reason than this simple fact: it’s reality. An equalizing common denominator called truth that breaks the barrier between “us” and “them.”

“Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but those who act faithfully are His delight.”

Proverbs 12:22 ESV

Falsehood is fantasy. Faithful is adhering or true to fact. Real life reality.

So today, instead of muting our mess, let’s confess it in a safe space. It’s ok not having it all together. But together, we can make sense of the pieces, even the ones that don’t seem to fit into our plans. And that, my friends, makes reality a bit more palatable.

FIGHT

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FIGHT

In a recent conversation with someone whom I dearly love, she asked how my recovery was going. Here’s the exchange that followed:

I’m ok. Just need to remember how to be a patient again. You’d think with all the times I’ve been in the “patient” situation it would be easier.

Nah, I get it. Every time you fight your way back to feeling good again, it’s even harder to sit still and work back up to fully functional again. It makes sense. ❤️ But you come back better each time. 😉

This. I so needed to hear this today. Maybe you need it as well. You come back better. Again, and again. I’m not sure if she intentionally used that word twice in one sentence, but it stood out to me.

We all go through stuff, have trauma, and it’s ok to feel an obesity of emotions. Then afterwards, we gotta stand up again (and again). Choose to fight—not in a violent, rather overcomer way. FIGHT!

Find

Incredible

Goodness

tHrough

Trauma

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.”

Jane (Nightbirdie) Marczewski

It’s the in spite of, not the trauma, that should steal our focus. The wildflower growing out of the sidewalk. The rainbow in the storm. The unavoidable laughter through tears. THAT kind of joy, an impregnable goodness, is infectious in the best possible way.

The world needs more of this. See, share, spread this. FIGHT, my friends.

Community

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Community

What does community look like for you?Does it need to be in the perfect location? Lots of mature trees and green space? Maybe in city center? Near the important things? Work, school, Target? Should it have a pool, dog park, or other amenities?

These are the things I see on HGTV’s numerous homebuyers wish list. As someone who’s recently looked at houses, I can honestly say, most of these would also be high up on the community list for me. These are all the “creature comforts,” locationally speaking. Community, as in a place, is only one of five basic types. The other four (interest, action, practice, and circumstance), I’d argue, are far more valuable because they are relational.

Common interests. A call to action for making some kind of impact. Practicing similar work, recreational, or kid activities. Bonding through everyday or crisis situations. These are also what I’d call “community.” And these—these are huge motivators for staying in communities.

Just after “Love the Lord your God” as Jesus’ first Commandment is this: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:37-39)

We often think of “neighbor” in terms of proximity, or again, location; however, I do not believe this is what Jesus was talking about. Not. At. All. I think we need to go back a few pages in Matthew to chapter 7: “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (verse 12 EVS).

The Golden Rule. We are all familiar with it. Probably memorized it before we left first grade. Somehow though, I think a majority of us throw this rule out the window when it doesn’t “suit” us. Myself included (ouch that hurt to say).

Community (neighbors) are either brought together or torn apart by how this Golden Rule is applied. *Read that again*

Now, I realize this is a generalized statement, but it seems like part of society has traded kindness for convenience—fed by the “me first” mentality. It’s just easier to focus on my needs, my priorities, my ideology. This is taking loving thyself (the second part of the second commandment) totally out of context, and to the detriment of others.

Kindness DOES matter. How you treat another person, both in person or behind the scenes, matters. Proverbs 17:22 (NLT) says, “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.”

We are a broken people, living in a broken place. But hear me out, there is good news! If we abide by the Golden Rule, apply the second Commandment, and work to BUILD community…my friends, what a blessed respite that would be! A beautiful Heaven on Earth experience, in a real, tangible way.

Today, let’s pray these pearls of wisdom the Bible lays out (starting with ourselves) over our family, friends, community, and those we may not currently see eye to eye with in accordance with our Lord’s Commandments. Amen.

Dormancy

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Dormancy

One of the things I love about this time of year is watching my Dwarf Japanese Maple trees change colors. It happens quite suddenly and all the beautiful bright red leaves can fall in the blink of an eye when a front blows through. This year, we had a brief cold snap followed by unseasonably high temps. I am thankful, as my breakfast table view has had extended privileges witnessing this magnificent transformation into dormancy.

One might find this process disheartening, since the leaves will eventually lose their connection, one by one, drifting away, causing the tree to become barren. But only temporarily. These Maples will be dormant, not lifeless. A brief season of suspended splendor before new growth appears.

Dormant, adj.

1. (of an animal) having normal physical functions suspended or slowed down for a period of time; in or as in a deep sleep. (of a plant or bud) alive but more actively growing. (of a volcano) temporarily inactive. (of a disease) causing no symptoms but not cured liable to return.

2. temporarily inactive or inoperative

Oxford dictionary

We too mimic dormancy, although often unknowingly. We let go of people and things that we once held close. We release, rather…withdraw, out of self preservation when it becomes too much. Too heavy. We need a rest. A pause. A dormant period. Call it the “flight” in the automatic physiological fight or flight response.

This is a natural defense mechanism. It is also totally subconscious. An effective way to assess our stress, as long as the dormancy period is brief and used appropriately. A slow down, not an abrupt cease desist, in our lives.

Unfortunately, few of us have the self awareness to recognize when we desperately need rest. We run headlong until we either fall down or hit the proverbial wall. There is nothing pleasant when this happens, for those witnessing or the unwilling participant. Hence the phrase “crash and burn.” It’s simply painful.

So in my REAL moment with you today, I would like to introduce the thought of including periodic personal dormancy as a brief and restorative process. It could be a break from social media, or an intentional interruption of constant on the go, or a day (maybe even two) without a mile long to do list. It can be beautiful change for others to behold. An unspoken lesson others learn. Who knows? It may even be the very thing that properly prepares us for our next season of growth.

Change Considered

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Change Considered

2020 has been a lot of things, change being the most prevalent. Change in plans. Change in how we operate. Change in our world. And change is hard. Really hard. Our bodies often resist change…until it’s no longer change, rather a new normal.

I used to hate that phrase, “new normal.” If it’s new, then it probably doesn’t feel at all normal! It masks the truth: change is happening, and I haven’t decided whether or not I like it. Most of us are experiencing copious amounts of “new normals,” in various parts of our lives.

It certainly didn’t feel normal not spending Thanksgiving with our extended family.

Seeing shelves in stores emptied as a desperate attempt to control something in our lives isn’t normal.

Watching business close, walking past locked doors, and witnessing owners pleading for their livelihood is not normal.

Nope, I still HATE the phrase. I have spoken (for you Mandalorian fans). I don’t particularly like change. It makes me uncomfortable. Leaves me a bit anxious. Tests my faith, which is difficult for me to admit.

As my husband drove me to physical therapy this morning, we happened to pass by a familiar face I’d not seen in quite a while. I sent her a quick message and put my phone away. I didn’t see her response until 4+ hours later, because everything about PT was just plain hard!

My regular therapist wasn’t there. I usually go much later in the day. The room was set up differently. I was doing things that didn’t at all feel familiar. I could tell my body was not accepting all these changes well because it was new and NOT normal.

After coming home and crashing (literally poured myself into bed and slept for about three hours), I found my friend’s response. She shared a scripture. It was one I knew well, and upon reading it, I had to stifle a laugh.

It began: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds…”

I’m sorry, I have to stop right there. Joy and trials should not be in the same sentence. It’s an oxymoron. Literally. We do serve a funny God!

“… because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”

I know that I don’t like being tested. I know that I am often weak. I know I’m not always steadfast. None of which, I believe, sets us up for perseverance. Period.

“Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature”

Um, I think I just proved above I am not mature with the whole test thing. Did you not hear the virtual stopping of my foot like a two year old? Arms crossed. Face fixed. And stubbornness exuding from my core?!

“… and complete, not lacking anything.”

I want to be complete! I want to lack for nothing! But do I really have to be mature? Must I endure the testing of my faith? How can this possibly produce perseverance? Seems to me it’s bringing forth my inner most child-like temper tantrum.

Ok, enough is enough. Let’s put it all together.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because 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 1:2-4

While change (or trials) may not FEEL at all joyful, we still have a choice in how we consider it. What kind of mindset we’ll don while facing it. Whether we’ll be open enough to accept what’s coming could actually be good for us in the end.

Believe me, it’s a tough concept. We are most comfortable when things are stable. Unchanging. But that’s our immaturity showing. Our flimsy faith.

In order to be complete, we sometimes have to undergo a metamorphosis. That means change. A trail, maybe even refined by force or fire, before re-emerging, beautifully changed. From great tragedy comes great triumph.

A tiny seed, split, turned into a mighty oak.

A wiggly worm, cocooned, brought forth into a butterfly.

A grain of sand, irritant calcified, produced a pearl.

We love the finished product, rejoicing in its miraculous transformation. We don’t lament what it used to be. And yet, we often miss out on our own potential “rebirth” due to our reticent change resistance.

Now the words “consider it pure joy” makes a bit more sense, because we all want to be “complete, not lacking anything.” While our faith may be tested, God’s goodness is unwavering. He remains solidly sovereign. And that, my friends brings us hope to traverse any trial, joyfully.

Take that, 2020. While you have changed us in countless ways, we will continue clinging to Him in anticipation of something more that completes us. Because He is a good, good father. And the best is yet to come!