He was sitting at the kitchen table, tapping to a beat inaudible to rest of the house, unaware that a choice today would change a forever for some one he had not met, would never meet. At the hospital where he spends so many precious hours the mundane trickles in so slowly that before one realizes it they are flooded by impatience and hardened heart. He stands at this precipice this morning and doesn't even know it.
His wife walks in, hair tangled and yesterdays makeup smudged beneath half open eyes. He thinks she is cute and beautiful like this but forgets to tell her almost every day. As she sits down to the silence of sleeping children she asks what he is going to do about the patient he told her of yesterday. The one with the failing body, the one with a sudden cancer diagnosis and a fate so unpredictable that even he, with all of his training, can't put a time table to. In that moment while he sat shaking his head with doubt she said something simple, though monumental.
"I think you should pray with him. Maybe even with his family. From what you said they seem to feel pretty hopeless and prayer is what gives me hope, so...I mean. If you don't, who will? Right?"
Sitting in that chair hearing those words his immediate response resonates inside as a resounding, "Are you kidding me? No!" but he fights those dark whispers and says, "Maybe I will."
That was the end of it. The whole conversation. What would come of it mattered to so many...
--I'm just playing around with some thoughts I've had lately.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
filth
I can't stop thinking about this. I want to ignore it, but I can't. I'm going to use this space as a template for my confessions yet again, I want to expose this ugliness, I want to feel the deluge of grace powered change in my heart.
I have been beyond excited about my upcoming trip to Austin. I love knowing that the wedding of a dearly loved friend is bringing me there, that I get to be a part of a day that will seal her with her love for life and that as a bonus I get to be with family. I am enamored by how much Corey's parents love our children, I never had grandparents like them, it is a treat to see their adoration and hear their words of praise for the mother I am learning to be. I am trying so hard.
But in all my genuine excitement there is this really ugly, selfish, deceitful story playing out in my thoughts. Thoughts of wanting to have free time to myself, of leaving my children with my in-laws for countless hours so I can just be by myself, go shopping, buy things I can't afford and don't need just because my husband isn't around to maintain my accountability. I've thought of shoes and purses I want, expensive meals I want to eat and movies I want to see. Now, these things, in and of themselves and not entirely negative, but how I covet them, how I think of them often and devise ways in my mind to hide the spent money from my family is pure greed and pure sin. I had to write it here because with each day I felt my grip on reality passing and found these plans making ever more sense. So yes, I will probably eat at my favorite couple of spots, and yes, I might even do a tiny bit of shopping, but here and now I stand up against the prowling lion of deceit and declare that it will all be open, all be honest, I will not let him win.
The shame of these thoughts has been brought to light not entirely by my own conscious, but also by my recent exposure to Compassion International and their recent project of sending popular bloggers to impoverished countries that they might share their experiences with their readers and some how inspire them to sponsor a child. I also thought these things were shams, that somehow my $30 a month was going into a greedy pocket somewhere, but after reading this and this I am all the more aware of how backwards our American thinking is when looking at the scope of everywhere else. GOD. I'm wanting a new bag and purse and then wondering if we can afford $38 a month so some kids some where can have a meal a week. Yeah. A WEEK. We can afford it, we will, we have to. How could we face our own children and say that we refused? I have never done this before, because it seemed so trivial, it never seemed like enough, but I wonder what ever would? I think that is the greatest scheme against changing this world, the whispers that one small act of generosity won't go far enough so why even do anything?
But it's wrong. That prince of darkness is wrong.
How beautiful and good could it be if everyone on your street sponsored one child? That could be what? 6? 10 children going to school, eating, given a chance to change their life that they might turn around and change others?
One YES means a thousand nos.
It means saying no to complacency, to self doubt, to selfishness and greed.
If there is ANY way you can make this work with what you have, won't you? Isn't that what this life is all about...taking care of those who need it?
Pick one HERE.
I have been beyond excited about my upcoming trip to Austin. I love knowing that the wedding of a dearly loved friend is bringing me there, that I get to be a part of a day that will seal her with her love for life and that as a bonus I get to be with family. I am enamored by how much Corey's parents love our children, I never had grandparents like them, it is a treat to see their adoration and hear their words of praise for the mother I am learning to be. I am trying so hard.
But in all my genuine excitement there is this really ugly, selfish, deceitful story playing out in my thoughts. Thoughts of wanting to have free time to myself, of leaving my children with my in-laws for countless hours so I can just be by myself, go shopping, buy things I can't afford and don't need just because my husband isn't around to maintain my accountability. I've thought of shoes and purses I want, expensive meals I want to eat and movies I want to see. Now, these things, in and of themselves and not entirely negative, but how I covet them, how I think of them often and devise ways in my mind to hide the spent money from my family is pure greed and pure sin. I had to write it here because with each day I felt my grip on reality passing and found these plans making ever more sense. So yes, I will probably eat at my favorite couple of spots, and yes, I might even do a tiny bit of shopping, but here and now I stand up against the prowling lion of deceit and declare that it will all be open, all be honest, I will not let him win.
The shame of these thoughts has been brought to light not entirely by my own conscious, but also by my recent exposure to Compassion International and their recent project of sending popular bloggers to impoverished countries that they might share their experiences with their readers and some how inspire them to sponsor a child. I also thought these things were shams, that somehow my $30 a month was going into a greedy pocket somewhere, but after reading this and this I am all the more aware of how backwards our American thinking is when looking at the scope of everywhere else. GOD. I'm wanting a new bag and purse and then wondering if we can afford $38 a month so some kids some where can have a meal a week. Yeah. A WEEK. We can afford it, we will, we have to. How could we face our own children and say that we refused? I have never done this before, because it seemed so trivial, it never seemed like enough, but I wonder what ever would? I think that is the greatest scheme against changing this world, the whispers that one small act of generosity won't go far enough so why even do anything?
But it's wrong. That prince of darkness is wrong.
How beautiful and good could it be if everyone on your street sponsored one child? That could be what? 6? 10 children going to school, eating, given a chance to change their life that they might turn around and change others?
One YES means a thousand nos.
It means saying no to complacency, to self doubt, to selfishness and greed.
If there is ANY way you can make this work with what you have, won't you? Isn't that what this life is all about...taking care of those who need it?
Pick one HERE.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
married
Ok so it stewed a really long time.
I, in my college naivety, never expected to find myself nearly 5 years married with two children in 2010.
I never thought I would love a job with no paycheck and no glamour.
I couldn't have imagined that teaching my little boy to pee pee in the toilet would bring so much joy.
Or that being selfless with my soulmate would take so much work.
So I didn't grow up knowing much about marriage except that my mom didn't seem to care for it much. She had a rough time with it, so I pretty much abandoned the idea all together. But now I am married to this incredible man, a man who has worked so hard for 8 years to be at this place where his childhood dream of being a doctor is finally realized. A man who loved me enough to save his touch, his kisses, until our wedding day. A man who is a better father than I ever imagined. In this day it seems that women have this issue with supporting their husbands, that somehow the act of having dinner ready when your man comes home is some sign of weakness, that putting on makeup and attractive clothes that only he will see is some form of chauvinism, that washing all the clothes and dishes without expectation of an even share of said workload indicates imbalance.
I. LOVE. supporting. my. husband.
This is a great job and one that I believe in whole heartedly. A man needs to feel respected, he needs his home to be a safe place, a haven and sanctuary from the harrowing forces of negativity out in the dark workplace; he needs his wife to be his helper. I'm no expect, I have only 5 years of experience, but I'm confident in these truths.
I've been praying and studying this a lot as of late and am coming to find that the more I deny my selfish impulses, the more I choose to love and give to Corey WITHOUT expectation of some other favor in return, as I choose to hold grudges less and show grace more, the more love he shows me, the more appreciative are his words, the more affectionate are his embraces. All my life I thought I needed some high profile title to matter, but I see now that what I do for Corey, the smile I put on every day for his arrival home, the effort I put into cooking him healthy meals, having the children clean and in good moods, budgeting our money appropriately, keeping no secrets, I see how all of these things are noble and grand in a secret way. Corey's strength and integrity at work are tied to me, intertwined in who I am to him at home and that is a great privilege.
I see so often in the grocery store parking lots and restaurant booths the wife who is sending her marriage down a pitiful spiral by her snide words. I hear them, those knives of "Why would you do that, are you stupid?" The short spoken directions. The woman who walks 10 paces ahead while her husband is left behind wondering what he did wrong, where he went wrong. I don't want to be that. I want to walk hand in hand with my man, even if his pace is a little slower. I want to be so much that his eyes dare not wander. I want to be the grace he receives when failure meets him at work, at home, anywhere.
This isn't easy. Ever. It's a choice EVERYday for me to put him first and trust that he has a good heart that will not take for granted the things I do. Even when he IS taking me for granted, I have to choose to trust that he will see it, that I don't have to point out ALL the things I do for him because our love is such that truth is always at the surface, gratitude the buoy keeping us afloat together.
There are days, weeks even, when I've done every inch of everything for our home. Cared for our children, laundered, washed, swept, mopped, dusted, mowed, repaired, made special meals, baked special treats, bought special gifts, left love notes, offered myself. There are weeks when I get a lot of thank yous and weeks when they are few, but it doesn't matter because Corey is a gift and a privilege and in the end what would I rather have said of me? That I fought for fairness? Or that I gave my all selflessly and, unexpectedly, gained so much in return.
I, in my college naivety, never expected to find myself nearly 5 years married with two children in 2010.
I never thought I would love a job with no paycheck and no glamour.
I couldn't have imagined that teaching my little boy to pee pee in the toilet would bring so much joy.
Or that being selfless with my soulmate would take so much work.
So I didn't grow up knowing much about marriage except that my mom didn't seem to care for it much. She had a rough time with it, so I pretty much abandoned the idea all together. But now I am married to this incredible man, a man who has worked so hard for 8 years to be at this place where his childhood dream of being a doctor is finally realized. A man who loved me enough to save his touch, his kisses, until our wedding day. A man who is a better father than I ever imagined. In this day it seems that women have this issue with supporting their husbands, that somehow the act of having dinner ready when your man comes home is some sign of weakness, that putting on makeup and attractive clothes that only he will see is some form of chauvinism, that washing all the clothes and dishes without expectation of an even share of said workload indicates imbalance.
I. LOVE. supporting. my. husband.
This is a great job and one that I believe in whole heartedly. A man needs to feel respected, he needs his home to be a safe place, a haven and sanctuary from the harrowing forces of negativity out in the dark workplace; he needs his wife to be his helper. I'm no expect, I have only 5 years of experience, but I'm confident in these truths.
I've been praying and studying this a lot as of late and am coming to find that the more I deny my selfish impulses, the more I choose to love and give to Corey WITHOUT expectation of some other favor in return, as I choose to hold grudges less and show grace more, the more love he shows me, the more appreciative are his words, the more affectionate are his embraces. All my life I thought I needed some high profile title to matter, but I see now that what I do for Corey, the smile I put on every day for his arrival home, the effort I put into cooking him healthy meals, having the children clean and in good moods, budgeting our money appropriately, keeping no secrets, I see how all of these things are noble and grand in a secret way. Corey's strength and integrity at work are tied to me, intertwined in who I am to him at home and that is a great privilege.
I see so often in the grocery store parking lots and restaurant booths the wife who is sending her marriage down a pitiful spiral by her snide words. I hear them, those knives of "Why would you do that, are you stupid?" The short spoken directions. The woman who walks 10 paces ahead while her husband is left behind wondering what he did wrong, where he went wrong. I don't want to be that. I want to walk hand in hand with my man, even if his pace is a little slower. I want to be so much that his eyes dare not wander. I want to be the grace he receives when failure meets him at work, at home, anywhere.
This isn't easy. Ever. It's a choice EVERYday for me to put him first and trust that he has a good heart that will not take for granted the things I do. Even when he IS taking me for granted, I have to choose to trust that he will see it, that I don't have to point out ALL the things I do for him because our love is such that truth is always at the surface, gratitude the buoy keeping us afloat together.
There are days, weeks even, when I've done every inch of everything for our home. Cared for our children, laundered, washed, swept, mopped, dusted, mowed, repaired, made special meals, baked special treats, bought special gifts, left love notes, offered myself. There are weeks when I get a lot of thank yous and weeks when they are few, but it doesn't matter because Corey is a gift and a privilege and in the end what would I rather have said of me? That I fought for fairness? Or that I gave my all selflessly and, unexpectedly, gained so much in return.
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