I’ve often wanted to participate in the water aerobics class offered at my gym on Tuesday mornings but have always had a scheduling conflict. Today, conflict gone=AQUA! The recurring thought that went through my head through the hour-long class was, “I hope I remember this so I can blog about it later…” There was SO MUCH! It was like a TV show.
First of all, I was the youngest person in the pool by at least 3 decades, as expected. Who’s excited about this? That would be this girl. Older people tend to lose the desire to care what other people think, which makes things a lot more fun (ahem, entertaining). The class consisted of only a couple of first-timers and was 95% female (1 guy, and he looked to be about 80 and spent his time floating around at the deep end of the pool. Not entirely sure he wasn’t just a creeper)
I waded into the pool and struck up a conversation with a jolly lady that was standing along the wall that mentioned to me in a loud voice how cold the water was this morning. I agreed and asked her what her name was. No response. Then she looked at me and smiled, so I smiled back and asked her if it was her first time. She waited a few beats and then burst out, “Today’s my first time!” I smiled at her and then told her it was my first time, too, then asked her for her name again. And again, no response. I waited a few moments then started to ask her another question when she turned to me and yelled, “I’m sorry, I took out my hearing aids so I can’t hear a thing!” I laughed and smiled at her again, to which she replied, “And I took off my glasses, too, so I’m blind as a bat! I’m in so much trouble!” We both cracked up. And so the class began….
Our instructor, Maria, was really good, but I wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t jump into the pool and beat each of us into submission if we weren’t pushing ourselves. I followed her instructions to run around the pool while pulling my knees up to my chest and as I did so, I took note of the many variations of scented pain cream I passed. It was a Ben Gay-palooza. The class was packed and it was difficult to move around without hitting someone, so I wandered over to the wall where I met Bennette, a 67 year old woman that didn’t look a day over 45. We hung out the entire class because, frankly, she was one of the funniest humans I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. As we did exercises with floating dumb bells and noodles, Bennette would yell echoes of Maria’s commands that seemed to excite the class more than the 90’s pop music coming from the stereo system. We had moments of conversation about how we kept floating up to the surface with each pump of foam iron and devised ways to keep ourselves under the resistance of the water. And we laughed. A lot.
At one point towards the end of the class, a man came into the pool room wearing a speedo. One of the ladies, Jan, saw him and said “Oh my! Oh my!” Bennette and I looked at each other and then LOST IT. Jan looked over at us and said, “What? I’m old, not dead.” To each their own, dear Jan.
There were a couple of grumpy ladies that floated around the pool, angered by the water that was getting into their hair. And there were a couple excited ladies that ran around the pool with wide eyes and smiles taking up their entire face. And there were also a couple ladies that I don’t think were fully aware they were actually in a pool.
We ended the class with stretches, which was when I felt the impact on my muscles. Those ladies aren’t messing around.
I’m going again on Thursday.
One of my hobbies is technology–mainly the things that technology has the capacity to do. So in my search for channels on my new Roku, I have stumbled across a live stream of a nest of bald eagles in Iowa that currently has 3 eggs in it. I *might* be obsessed with checking it. Click here to see the feed.
I grew up Southern Baptist so Lent has always been a somewhat distant concept to my faith practices. When I was in school, my Catholic friends would show up with something on their foreheads, and I would wonder about ashes, but that was about it. As I’ve gotten older, I have perceived Lent to be a short-term diet or exercise plan. People want to give things up (fast food, gluten, meat, smoking, bread, alcohol, TV) or incorporate something new (exercise, journaling, consistent quiet time) and Lent gives them the excuse they need or the opportunity to flirt with the idea and see how it impacts them. And as I’ve grown in my curiosity of observing Lent, I have found myself embracing the same.
Last year I recognized that there was probably more to this thing and I wanted to learn and experience more of God as I explored Lent . So I purchased this book with the intention of reading it daily through the Lenten season. That lasted about 4 days.
This year I have invited my house church into the process and I am expecting the introduction of accountability to help me out. I’m excited to what God is going to teach us.
If you are looking for a daily reading for Lent, this book is beautifully written (or at least the first 4 days were beautifully written. I anticipate that the rest of the book is a continuation of that). You can purchase it on Amazon. And while you’re waiting for it to arrive, here’s a preview of the book for the first couple of days to hold you over until it gets to you.
- Whitney. So sad. What a voice to be missed.
- If we believe that the people in our lives are genuinely NOT trying to hurt us, why is there so much hurt? And why do we choose to believe it’s intentional pain when most afflictions are a result of unintended consequences and misunderstandings? Wouldn’t it be better if we just spoke in truth and love moment by moment and trusted one another just a little bit?
- The weather in central Florida is so bipolar, it makes me a little on edge. It’s February, be cold! But maybe not THAT cold…
- Why is the dog so determined to eat the cat food? And why are the cats obsessed with eating the dog food? (Don’t think I haven’t tried switching bowls. I did. They are genuinely attracted to the opposite food, which is so incredibly frustrating)
- At some point I determined (rather incorrectly) that vegan food=healthy food. Last night I made vegan mac and cheese, which was ah-mazing. With the exception of my taste buds, my digestive system disagrees on this point whole-heartedly.
- My house is a temperature sponge. Today it was 55 degrees in the house. I turned the heater on (set at 60) and it ran the majority of the day with very little change. It was just too cold outside.
- Tonight I stole all the babies and prayed over them while walking around the building. The level of intimacy experienced with God while praying over a young child is unparalleled. I can’t even imagine what the experience is like if the child belongs to me.
Rembrandt's The Prodigal Son
Over the years, I have encountered this parable told by Jesus in the bible numerous times. I have reflected on the behavior of the Father because it is a beautiful representation of God. And I’ve also studied the response of the other brother–you know, the one that did everything right and then was jealous of his returned brother. I’ve felt a kindred spirit with that guy on more than one occasion.
But today I am drawn to the Prodigal. He ran away, he squandered, and then he was humbled and returned. But I wonder about the parts of the story that aren’t in the text. Did he stay humble? Did he run away from his father’s grace? Or did he think he “got away with it”?
The concept of God’s grace is a big one that I don’t easily grasp. He runs towards me and I so very clearly don’t deserve this welcoming embrace. I don’t readily fall into this embrace with relief. I spin out of His grasp, tears streaming down my face. I’m begging for forgiveness but never willing to actually accept it when it’s offered. My value is rarely determined by God in my mind, when the reverse is true.
I think the big part of the story that I wonder about is the act of repentance. He humbled himself to return to his father. He was asking for something he didn’t deserve–isn’t that what grace is in the first place? But what if he was pulling a fast one on his father? What if he was just looking for the next break? What if he truly was humbled, but when he saw the goodness that existed in his father’s response, he went back to his selfish persona?
Does grace encourage us to be selfish? Sometimes. Wouldn’t it be better if we could see the world beyond our own reach and recognize that to love others well is more important than our own edification? It probably would. But the world tells us we have to protect ourselves and fight for ourselves because no one else will. And maybe that’s true. But is that what our goal should be in the first place?
I’m still sitting with this guy, the prodigal. Henri Nouwen is probably going to help me on the journey. I think there is much to be learned.
I’m in the middle of an experiment. Due to a lot of different factors (my natural extroversion, my current work life, my emotional journey, etc), I try to fill every moment of my life with some form of distraction. When I wake up, I turn on the radio or an episode of something-or-another on Hulu to fill the audible void. When I am drying my hair, I put in headphones and watch something on my laptop or listen to a podcast on my phone. In my car I have an ipod complete with every episode of Friends available for my listening enjoyment since I have every episode memorized down to every detail. When I fall asleep at night, I turn on something so I can fall asleep. The noise prevents me from thinking too much.
At least I thought it was me thinking too much. I believe a more accurate assessment would be a fear of the silence. Who am I when it’s silent? Actually, what will God say about me when I actually let Him speak? Or, worst case, what will I say about myself when the silence comes? I’ve said some pretty awful things to myself, about myself. Or the enemy’s voice sounds an awful lot like my own. “You’re not good enough.” “You are wildly insufficient.” “No one loves you–why should they?” “You are a fraud.” “You are a failure.” “There is nothing lovable about you.” “You have no redeemable qualities.” “You are a screw up.” “You are wrong, and never ever right.” “You are invalid.” “You aren’t worth seeing.” “Your faults are too huge for anyone to try and work through.” “You are not worth pursuing.” “No one would ever want to be pursued by you.” You are an inconvenience.” “You are incapable.” “You are worth nothing.”
It seems incredibly harsh, but in the moment, it seems very real.
What my head knows to be true is that I am truly loved by the Divine Creator. The One who knows me better than I know myself. The Abba Father, Daddy, that sees me when the rest of the world doesn’t. However, my heart is terrified that the lies I hear are true. And instead of pursuing the truth, I have been choosing noise. It’s just better to not know.
However, that is another lie. It IS better to know. And while I have a major life overhaul coming up to resolve some of this, I am going to start small. The car is now a silent place for the next week. And it is quite difficult to get in the car, put my seat belt on, and then drive. Wait, I’m forgetting something… something is missing. This doesn’t feel normal. Well, for me, it hasn’t been “normal” lately. I crave the noise. I cherish the distraction. This almost feels like a punishment.
But it’s not. It’s a response. God is calling out for the very core of my being to come to Him. To be loved by Him. There is no shame. There is no condemnation. My head knows this. My hope is that my heart will believe it soon as well.
She is sitting across from me, tears fighting to spill from her eyes. Her lip quivers, letting me know that while her mind truly believes what she is saying, her heart is screaming to be heard.
“God is punishing me. Because I made these mistakes. And because of those mistakes, this man I loved died. God is punishing me.”
I am struck with so many things at once and I start the mental dialogue with God that has become familiar and necessary for me to survive these conversations. First, my heart breaks, because her heart is broken. I feel with her, even if it’s only a fraction of her pain. My heart also breaks for the lies that she has been told are true. There is a voice welling up in me, shouting, “NO! NO! Don’t believe this!”
And then there’s something else in the background–something strangely familiar. It quickly gathers ground and I feel my breath catch in my throat. I have felt this. I have believed this. I once didn’t see the cage Satan had cunningly trapped me in. My minds eye is filled with images of my first horse, the joy that I felt when I was around her, the freedom I felt when I was riding her, and the devastating blow my 16 year old heart took when I found out she died at the very young age of 9–1 month pregnant with the young horse I had dreams of riding in the Olympics. When I found out she had died, I had this out-of-body experience where I see my 16 year old self drop to her knees in sheer agony. A young girl whose world was this horse. And a young girl who believed that her best friend had been taken away because her God was a jealous God that had deemed this horse to be an idol that needed to be removed.
Without knowing it, this new fabricated reality (which I could easily back up with scripture) became the new filter through which my entire world would now go through. Don’t express joy for something too much or it will be taken away. Watch yourself, be a good little Christian, because there is this judgmental God on a throne that will press you with His thumb if you get out of line.
And it wasn’t until I was 30 that I discovered this wasn’t really true. God is a jealous God, yes. But He is also a God that sent Christ to die for us. And the reality of the world now is a brand new paradigm where God sees us through the lens of Christ. And this God desires for us to enjoy His creation. And grace, compassion, love…. these are of God. A God that would give the ultimate sacrifice to be with us doesn’t want us to hurt. And he’s not a controlling dictator that manipulates the world to punish His creation. He is a God whose heart breaks with us, who gives us free will and let’s us make our own choices, knowing that they may not be the best decisions. And so He waits for us to return.
I don’t pretend to understand God fully, but I do desire to deepen that understanding every day.
Questions roll around in my head on an almost constant basis. There feels like a battle of sides that is pulling. These sides don’t even have names or labels–that would at least be easier to identify and compartmentalize. Instead, I find myself trying to teach myself (blind leading the blind!) how to be fully present in each moment and determine what I believe to be true in each moment. So instead of coming in with guns blazing, I sit patiently and wait. How do I extend grace first? How do I ask really good questions? How do I move forward if I can’t be certain that people will move forward with me?
What does that say about me when all around me fails?
I appreciate the effort, but I am rarely standing up when I’m doing email….