FAILURE. . . .IS IT REALLY?

It was not one of the finest periods of my life.  I rarely talk about it and have never written about it, but in searching for topics to jump start my writing I thought about that time and wondered, “Dare I write about it?”

It happened more than 25 years ago now. Within the span of just a few months my closest family members, all of whom lived within a 10 mile radius of us here in northern New Jersey, decided to move – my brother moved 4 hours north, while my parents moved to Florida, and my in laws to California. 

Suddenly all of the things we took for granted when family lived close were a thing of the past.  When the holidays arrived we either spent them alone, just the four of us, either at home or a hotel somewhere, or we traveled to see family.  Gone were the days when Grandmas and Grandpas babysat, or came to plays or sporting events to watch the grandkids perform, or helped to celebrate birthdays.  On one hand, I found the distance kind of liberating.  I was finally going to have to be the grown up and learn to live without the presence of my family close by.  On the other hand, I also found it a bit traumatizing and lonely.

Around the same time we also moved, but not far away, and still in northern New Jersey, but far enough that we had to leave the church where we had been active and friends we had made in our old neighborhood.  Finding a new church was easy, but making new friends was a bit more challenging.  Eventually though, I did manage to find myself part of a group of friends from our church who also had children the ages of mine.  I still missed the closeness of my family, but life was good.

My oldest daughter started elementary school and I volunteered some time in her first grade classroom while my youngest was in pre-school.  Some time that year her teacher suggested to me that I might like to apply for the position of kindergarten teacher, as that teacher would be leaving.  I began to pray about it.  In looking back on it later, I knew I wasn’t really ready to work full time.  Even after praying, I was unsettled in my spirit, but I was feeling some pressure to take the job, from my friends whose kids would be in that class, from my daughter’s teacher, and from the administrator of the school, and so I pushed my misgivings aside and said yes.

At first I enjoyed the job.  I found an outlet for my creativity as I thought of new ways to teach.  I had never taught kindergarten before and it turned out to be so much fun!  I loved introducing my students to books I had read to my own girls.  We had the added bonus of practicing to perform a play in the spring, and I just loved the energy and fun loving spirit of those kindergarten kids!

As that year drew to a close the woman who had been my daughter’s first grade teacher decided to retire and she encouraged me to apply for the first grade teaching position.  I had taught this age group before and thought it would be more exciting to teach reading and other subjects, so I applied and was hired.  It was then that things began to slowly change.

Teaching first grade required a lot more preparation than kindergarten.  I have always been a meticulous planner – maybe too much so?  So, in addition to being on my feet all day teaching, after dismissal and on into the evening I found myself working on lesson preparation.  I began to feel really stressed when my own children came directly to my classroom after school let out.  At the same time I was preparing my own lessons, I was supervising the homework and piano practice of my own girls in my classroom.   Then it was home to cook dinner and finish up my planning before we began the bedtime rituals.  I confess that I wasn’t always so patient when it came to reading bedtime stories or getting the last glass of water before lights went out. By then my calm was seriously unraveling!

And the stress kept mounting.  The school where I was teaching was a private school affiliated with a church and so my first grade classroom was shared with Sunday school classes on Sunday and after school groups on Monday.  So every Friday before I could go home, I would have to rearrange my classroom for the Sunday class.  Then after church on Sunday, my husband and children helped me to set my room up again for Monday school classes.  Then on Monday, I had to leave my classroom before 3:30 so that another group could use it.  That necessitated moving furniture around again! 

As is true for many private schools, we didn’t have any extra money to pay lunch or recess aides.  So, in addition to our classroom duties, all teachers were responsible to rotate for lunch and recess duties.  I hated it.  On those days I had to go from my classroom to choke down my lunch and head for one of these duties, but that wasn’t the worst.  If you’ve ever had to do lunch duty in an elementary school, you know.  The lunch room and playground are chaotic!  On the outside, I was going through the motions of balancing all of this, but inside I felt like a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

Somehow I got through that first year of teaching first grade, but at the end of the first day of my second year I have a clear memory that describes what was going on inside.  I was in the supermarket with my girls when I remembered something I wanted to buy.  I left the girls on a checkout line with our shopping cart while I ran down the milk aisle for the forgotten item.  As I ran I thought, “I hope I fall and break my leg so I don’t have to go back to work.”  Unfortunately, or so I thought at the time, I didn't.

Maybe someone reading this might ask, "Why didn't you just quit?"  For some reason, I didn’t think I had permission to stop working.  Everyone was counting on me – our administrator, the kids and their families, my husband, my kids.  So instead of just saying, “I’m done”, I kept on keeping on, while the inside pressure mounted.  I thought, maybe if I just get up earlier so I can spend more time in Bible reading and prayer, I'll be able to manage.  I got up an hour earlier so I could do that, but it didn't help.

That was the year I also had a parent who was accusing me of not attending to the needs of her son the way she thought I should.  She accused me of making the classroom a place where he didn’t feel safe.  My administrator supported me, so I took it with a grain of salt, but it still hurt and distressed me.  I was working as hard as I could and yet I still couldn't seem to get on top of things.

And then it happened.  It was the spring of that second year in first grade when I just couldn’t do it anymore.  I came into school that morning and cried of river of tears that would not stop.  I went to the nurse and my administrator sent me home. They were suggesting a rest, but I knew I didn’t want to go back, I couldn't go back - ever.  I wanted to run away to a place where I could be by myself and not tell anyone where I was going!  

The family of one of my students took me out to lunch shortly after and tried to talk me into finishing the school year.  I knew they were concerned about their son and the other students who would have to adjust to someone new for such a short time, and I felt terrible having to disappoint them, but I could not do it. 

I felt like a pariah. I was embarrassed to face the parents of my students in church, especially the new friends I had made whose children were in my class.  I felt I had let everyone down.  Some friends began to distance themselves – or maybe, in my shame and guilt, I just thought they had.  In any event, it caused me to isolate myself for a long time and seriously hurt any confidence I had that I would ever be able to do anything of significance again.

I don't know how much of a role not having family around influenced my mind at that time.  I know I felt alone in my pain and didn't really feel free to speak of it while I was going through it.  

That time speaks “failure” whenever I think back on it, but it certainly wasn’t a wasted experience.  Through it, I’ve learned that I don’t handle stress well.  I've discovered, based on other tasks I've done since, that I don’t like assuming a lot of responsibility.  People tell me I'm good at it, but they have no idea of what's going on inside! At that time, alternating my teacher, mom, and wife hats so often in the course of a day, over weeks and months, is not something I did well.  If you are a woman who manages to do all that, then may God bless and provide for you.  I cannot and I’m thankful that the Lord made that clear to me.  On the other hand, when I am asked to take on responsibility and I know the Lord is doing the leading, I'm well aware that He is providing my strength!  Otherwise I truly don't have what it takes!

Failure has also taught me that I should not say yes to something because others think it would be good for me - unless I have the accompanying clear peace of God the Holy Spirit.  I think I’ve learned this lesson well enough that now I am far more inclined to say no when I don’t think I am gifted for something, or when prayer about it doesn’t lead to a yes from God Himself.  My motto now is:  When in doubt, DON’T!  It really is better to say NO at the outset then have to back out later!

Since that experience and others over the years, I've learned that I love working with older children, but don’t really have the same patience for little ones.  I’ve been teaching middle schoolers (6-8^th grade) in Sunday school for 3 years and have worked as a volunteer with our high school youth group – and I love those age groups.  If you have a middle schooler of your own, then you know that working with them IS a God given gift.  Nearly everyone avoids middle schoolers!

I guess the most important lesson I learned is that God really loves me.  In His eyes, what I think of as failure, was not failure.  It was a divine opportunity to learn: how to discern His will,  to please Him alone and not everyone else, to embrace my limitations as well as my gifts, to learn that a single failure – even a big one – is not the end of my usefulness in His kingdom.

In the end, while I did miss my family, I'm thankful to have gone through those years without them to fall back on.  God's nearness was precious in those lonely times.  He sustained me then, and He sustains me now.  

If you're going through an experience that screams, "failure", in your ear, I hope my experience will encourage you.  Everyone experiences failures, but God's love and care for us remains constant.  You are not alone.

THE DREAM

I tend to dream a lot.  My dreams are very vivid.  They’re filled with people I recognize, colors I remember later, and ridiculously small details that I often can’t believe found their way in there. Usually, I don’t even try to assign any significance to them.  They’re entertaining to relate to my family in the morning, but no more.  But there was one dream I had many years ago that I do recall often, because its message seemed profound in a way I couldn’t, at first, figure out.

In the dream I was coming home, but “home” wasn’t the split level home in the suburbs in which I currently lived with my husband and children.  “Home” was a three story walk up in a sleazy looking tenement style building in a row of other tenement style buildings.  I was aware that no one else, my husband and children included, knew about the place.  I was keeping it a secret.

 I walked up the three dimly lit flights of stairs to a small landing and unlocked the door to my apartment.  Like one of the homes I lived in when I was a kid, this one also had railroad rooms, where you entered into the kitchen, made a right and went from one room to the next, like cars in a train.   

My dream “home” was just like that.  I entered through the hallway door into the kitchen and then went down the hall through bedroom after bedroom.  As I walked I noticed that the rooms were sparsely furnished, with the beds unmade. On the floor in the corner of each room was a small mound of a white powdery substance I recognized as mouse poison.  Obviously, my apartment had 4 legged “guests”.  I remember wondering why I would ever have a secret apartment like that one.  I felt ashamed of this place.  It was dark and dingy and it had mice!  No wonder I kept it secret!  I could never invite anyone there.

And then I reached the last room, the living room, and was taken completely by surprise.  I faced a wall of windows and the view was amazing!  It was a cityscape, twinkling with a million tiny lights.  It revealed a view to take your breath away.  All by itself it made this apartment worth keeping.

I looked around.  Not only was it beautifully furnished, but everywhere I looked there were things that I counted as treasures.  Beautiful statues and paintings of things I thought to be lovely were everywhere.  Jewelry, not of much real material value, but rich with sentimental value, was lying out on tables, to be admired. Articles of clothing I loved, like my favorite dress in second grade, and the camel coat with the faux fur collar my dad bought me one Christmas Eve, were displayed on racks or laid over furniture.  Photos that had special meaning were on shelves. 

No one entering the apartment by the kitchen door, or walking through the bedrooms would ever have suspected that such a room, or such treasures, even existed. My heart was overflowing with joy as I looked around that room.  It was so beautiful that I could cry!  And then I woke and the dream was over.  Some dreams, although I think I’ll remember them the next day, are quickly forgotten, but not this one.  I spent a lot of time thinking about it in the days ahead, sensing that there was a message in it for me. 

In order to understand how I found meaning in this dream, you need to know a little about me.  I tend to be a quiet, private person.  I had always envied people who seemed to make friends so easily while it took me forever.  I love people and I love having friends, but I spent a good deal of my adult life hiding behind quietness and insecurity, afraid that when people knew me better they might not like me.  And then I had the dream.

Eventually God used that dream to help me to understand something about myself.  The “home” which I was keeping secret from everyone else – even some of those closest to me – was ME.  As I saw it, it wasn’t a pretty place – it was dark and stark and unkempt – and it had mice!  I was ashamed to have anyone in for a visit.  God helped me see that every time I kept someone at arm’s length, every time I related only on a superficial level, I was attempting to hide from them those areas of my life that embarrassed me.  Like my less than perfect mothering skills, or my rampant insecurities about my abilities, or my often present  feeling of being “less than” other women whom I thought of as prettier, smarter, stronger, more likeable than I.

Eventually I also began to understand the meaning of the beautiful living room, hidden away at the end of the house, full of precious treasures.  The “home” that was me, wasn’t only full of things I’d rather others not see, there were also treasures I was hiding! This was a revelation because I never thought of myself as having treasures worth sharing!  Over time God has helped me to see that the compassion He’s planted in my heart – for the dying, for the developmentally challenged, for foreigners living in the country for the first time, for teens – all of these are treasures.  He’s helped me to value the sense of humor and adventure He’s planted within, and the gift of teaching and all the opportunities to use it that He’s given me.

He helped me to see that while I was hiding the things about me of which I was ashamed, refusing to share them with anyone else, I was also hiding the treasures.  Potential friends I allowed in might move through the rooms of my “home” that I wasn’t so proud of, but if they stayed with it long enough, they’d also share my treasures.  And there WERE treasures to share!

Over time I’ve come to embrace what God showed me.  I no longer hide my dark “rooms”.  When I’ve had the courage to share what’s in them, my failings resonate with others who’ve faced similar things and I find myself blessed with new and lasting friends who “get” me even as I “get” them.  I have the courage now to live my treasures as well as share them – like the adverturesomeness of zip lining, the craziness of dressing up for April Fool’s Day with my granddaughter and posting the photos on Facebook, the blessing of saying YES to a mission’s trip at the age of 61!

I’ve dreamed a lot of dreams since that night long ago, and I still chuckle over most of them with my family, but none have had the impact on my life that that one had.  I’m so grateful for the lesson the Lord taught me through it.

WHAT IF JESUS HADN'T COME?

 On Sunday our pastor read part of a letter from a missionary family.  They recounted some of the challenges they were facing, challenges that would tax any of us.  At the end of their letter they asked this question:  “What if Jesus hadn’t come?” 

Well, what if He hadn’t? 

As I reflected on how I might answer that question, one thought came to mind:  life would be hopeless.  

If Jesus hadn’t come I’d still be working furiously in an effort to win God’s approval with my works, and never, ever, really knowing if it was enough to balance out my faults and failures.

I would never know the wonderful assurance that I had been forgiven – not because I deserved it – but because Jesus made it possible.  Instead I would be consumed by my guilt and fearful.

If Jesus hadn’t come, joy would remain elusive.  Oh, there would be happiness in happy things – people, birthdays, new jobs, new babies – but the joy that comes from knowing Jesus, even when life holds no joy, would be absent.

When life brought despair through deaths, divorces, disease, tragedy – there would be nowhere to turn for true and lasting comfort.  Only a “cross your fingers and hope for the best” dream to hold onto.   The promise that “all things work together for the good to those who love God” would be absent.

Without Jesus, God would remain “out there”, seemingly distant, indifferent, removed from the suffering of us humans.  

Without Jesus I would go on thinking of God as the heavenly policeman, ready to smack me upside the head every time I stepped out of line.  I would never understand His love, a love that would sacrifice its BEST, had Jesus not come.   

There would be no intimacy with my Heavenly Father, no sweet awareness of His nearness.

BUT Jesus HAS come and His coming fills me with a CONFIDENT hope!

Living within me by His Spirit, He fills me with peace, comfort, the companionship of His presence, power for living a godly life.  I never again need to walk the tenuous balance between doing good, and not doing bad, to gain God’s approval.  I already have it.  It was made mine thorough faith in the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Forgiveness for the sin that still so easily besets me, is just a prayer away.

When the sorrows and challenges of this world threaten to overwhelm me, I can rest in God’s sovereignty and trust His promise that “ALL things work together for (my good)”, because He is FOR me.

All my guilt has been removed.  Jesus has paid for my sin IN FULL.

This world with its joys, and also its heavy sorrows, is not my final destiny. Heaven is my home.  On the day that I enter its gates, the presence of sin – in me and in my environment – will be a thing of the past.  The Lord Jesus will rule in righteousness and I will know fullness of joy when I SEE Him face to face!  On that day, when I leave this life for the next, Jesus will welcome me home! 

One day, my body, which has been so ravaged by sin will be glorified.  No sin, no sickness, no death, no crying, no sorrow!   The sting of death, and its victory over me, has been won by my victorious Savior! 

Jesus HAS come and His coming has made ALL the difference in my life.  Confident, expectant hope is the hallmark of my faith! 

I'VE GOT THE JOY, JOY, JOY, JOY

Oh my goodness!  For a reason unknown to me I have been trying since September to access my blog, without success.  But today, with the help of my WONDERFUL husband, I am finally back!  I’m so thankful!

It has been a whirlwind of a month, and we still have two and half weeks to go!  In early December I had to have an angiogram for a possible blockage in my heart.  With heart problems on both sides of my family, and a younger brother who had a heart attack, this caused a bit of anxiety.  However, the test was false positive!  Rejoicing all around!

Then, just this week we were hit with a family problem which has disappointed and upset us and increased all our anxiety levels.  It’s not likely to be over quickly either, so the forecast is still - angst ahead. 

In response to a request for prayer which I sent out this week, a friend replied, “Don’t let this rob you of the joy of anticipating the birth of Emmanuel – ‘God with us’”. 

Even when things are not going the way we wish, even though there is anxiety and stress – we can still experience the joy of the Lord, which is our strength, and I certainly want to do that at this sacred time of year.  Despite the stresses of the month so far, joy also abounds!

On Tuesday of this week, after I taught my last lesson in a 10 week-long series on the life of Joseph, the son of Jacob, from the book of Genesis, one of the women attending spoke to me.  Her words were, “I wanted you to know that the study of Joseph has profoundly changed my life.”   On that day I had graciously received a gift card, a candle, and a cross to hang on my wall – but it was THAT gift that filled this teacher’s heart with joy.  Transformed hearts is what Bible teaching is all about, so when it happens, all those hours of preparation for teaching feel so worthwhile.  Transformed hearts bring me great joy!

After class I went to visit one of my hospice patients (I’m a hospice volunteer).  My patient was sound asleep and remained that way through my entire visit, despite my gentle efforts to wake her.  However, she happened to be sitting right next to a 7 foot, decorated Christmas tree, in the nursing home where she lives, which gave the room such a festive air.  Gathered around her were a half dozen or so other residents in various states of memory loss, simply sitting and staring. 

As it happened, the lady I sat next to was clapping and humming to an old song from the post war days that I remember my mom singing.  So, I began to sing what I remembered of the words and noticed that others in the crowd of previously almost catatonic residents had begun to tap their feet, hum, or wave their arms to the music. 

With this suddenly very attentive audience, we began an impromptu sing-along of seasonal favorites.  

What a blessing it was to see people who just a moment before seemed totally disengaged with the activity around them, suddenly perk up.  We had a blast and I found my heart FULL of the joy of the season, the joy of showing the love of Jesus to these folks, and the joy of watching music bring them to life.  It was a sweet moment of celebration.

Then it was Wednesday.  Usually on a Wednesday morning I can be found at my town library meeting with four lovely foreign ladies who are my “English as a Second Language” (ESL) students.  But last Wednesday we had decided that instead of our usual meeting, we would drive together to a church in a neighboring town for a Christmas concert in which two of our group were singing.  The music was wonderful! 

The biggest blessing for me, other than being with my students, was to hear carols so familiar to me sung in Japanese.  I couldn’t help but think of heaven, when all believers in Jesus – from every tongue and nation - will sing His praises together.  I don’t know if we’ll retain a knowledge of our earthly languages, but it just might be that we’ll have the thrill of singing the same praise songs, in beautiful harmony – each in our own earthly tongue.  What a sound that would make!  Joy, joy and more joy!

Later that afternoon I had the blessing of having tea with another friend.  Elizabeth is from Kenya.  She left two sons back home so that she could come to the US to make more money than she could make in Kenya and send her boys to university.  Elizabeth is the home care aide for another of my hospice patients.  Early on we discovered that we both love Jesus – instant friendship!  We had a lovely time learning more about one another and praying together, her black hands entwined with my white ones.  Another taste of heaven – and fullness of joy!

Then yesterday, Friday, I hosted a Christmas brunch for my ESL students.  I try to have a brunch every 4-6 weeks in my home as an opportunity for us to enjoy one another’s company in a less formal setting.  Since everyone contributes food, we can also sample foods familiar and not so familiar.  Lots of conversation is generated over a table laden with food.  We look forward to these brunches like little girls anticipating a tea party! 

This time I planned a surprise.  In addition to my ESL students, I also invited 6 of my own American friends to join us, but I didn’t tell my students.  I knew they would be terrified!  The instructions I gave my friends was to speak slowly, ask questions, talk less and listen more, in order to give my ESL students a chance to use their English.  What a wonderful morning it proved to be as the conversation, interspersed with laughter, flew back and forth across the tables!

Once again I found myself full of joy, praising the Lord for putting it into my heart to volunteer to be an ESL tutor.  I know that all I’m doing to help my students become more adept at English is blessing them because they tell me, and I can actually see the improvement in their confidence level. 

What has really blown me away though, is the HUGE blessing I receive!  These lovely women have added so much richness to my life with their sweetness and kindness.  Our relationship together is about so much more than just tutor and students.  They share the concerns of their mothers’ hearts, the warmth of their friendship, and their challenges of living here in the United States with me.  For my part, I not only help them with English, I serve as a kind of surrogate mother, cheerleader, and friend.

So, while this month had a little more than its share of angst, my cup is overflowing with gratitude to my Lord for all the ways in which He has filled me with His joy.

Someone once said that happiness comes from happenings and I’ve had plenty of delightful happenings to bring me happiness this week.  However, there is something so much better than happiness, something deeper that fills my heart when happy happenings are hard to find – and that “something” is the joy of the Lord.  I can have that any and every time – even in the anxious ones – when I think about Jesus and all the ways in which He’s blessed me.

THE LOVE OF JESUS SHED ABROAD

A number of years ago when I was training to become a Bible Study Fellowship teaching leader I was told that my aim would be to run a tight ship and at the same time, be a tender shepherd to the leaders and women and children who attended our class.  I knew immediately, because I was totally at home with rules and regulations, that I would have no trouble running a tight ship.  Being a tender shepherd, on the other hand, I knew would be a massive challenge. 

The Lord made me an introvert, quiet, shy, reserved, happy keeping my own company.  I have never really been a people person.  When I was growing up, if I had a choice between being with people, or reading a good book, I’d choose the book every time!  When I reached adulthood I would tell people that I would rather give a lecture to a room full of people than have lunch with 4 people I didn’t know.  When it came to people, I always felt love “challenged”. 

So, it did not completely surprise me when after dinner one night during that training week, we were each given a Bible verse, chosen especially for us by the director of BSF, that mine “happened” to be this prayer of the Apostle Paul’s for his Ephesian readers:

“I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”   Ephesians 3:16-19

I knew that the difficulty I had in loving others was rooted in my lack of understanding of God’s love for me.  By faith, I knew that the Lord loved me.  There was plenty of evidence of that in God’s Word – beginning with the death of Jesus on my behalf, but in reality, I didn’t see any reason for Him to love ME.  Paul’s prayer was one I wanted the Lord to answer for me as well.  Over the next four years as I served as a teaching leader, the Lord would do exactly that.

Week one of writing weekly lectures and planning weekly training sessions for leaders, plus all the other administrative responsibilities of being a teaching leader, was just the beginning of my realization of just how much out of my depth I was!  The task was WAY too big for me!  Daily, I found myself on my knees crying out to the Lord, acknowledging that I could not do what He had asked me to do unless He helped me every step of the way.  What I wanted was to “feel” better immediately.  What I found myself doing more and more over time was simply worshipping Him.  It was in that way that I began to experience His power, wisdom and love, and begin to grasp, as I focused on HIM, and not my own inadequacy, just how much Jesus loved ME!  I did run a tight ship (as any of the leaders would have told you!), but during those years of waiting on the Lord for what I needed, I was taught by the Holy Spirit Himself to be a worshipper of the Lord in a way I had never known before. 

Miraculously, the more I understood how much Jesus loves me, the more I began to see others the way Jesus saw them.  He loved them too and because His love abided in me, I could love them too.

This week my stint as an English tutor, with the English as a Second Language program offered by our town library, began again.  This year I have 4 Asian ladies. One is continuing on from last year, but the others are new to ESL and very new to the U.S.  These lovely young women really want to become fluent in English, to help their children with their homework and to be able to navigate the phone, shopping, and relating to Americans in their everyday lives.  

Yes, I will be their English tutor, but in MY heart and mind, my role is so much bigger.  I find myself also wanting to be a friend and encourager.  I admire them for accepting the challenge, nearly always due to a husband’s job change, of moving to a country where you do not speak the language.  I don’t know if I could do it!  What an opportunity it affords me for demonstrating the love of Jesus to them, even if I never get to talk to them about Him.  Where did this new love for strangers come from?  Well, from the Lord, of course, answering my prayer to know His love and then giving that out to others.

In my volunteer role with hospice I also received a new assignment this week.  What a blessing to visit this man and his wife, to simply be a companion and give comfort for the brief time I am there.  And then, to have the added blessing of sharing some moments of talking about the Lord with their home care aide, a lovely Christian woman from Kenya.  A few years ago I never would have dreamed I would be comfortable walking into the home of seriously ill people to bring some companionship.  Where did this new ability and love for the dying come from?  I guess you know by now – from Jesus – who shed His love abroad in MY heart through His Holy Spirit.

In thinking back over the last 10 years I realize that I’m not the person I was back then.  The years of being a BSF teaching leader were stressful and anxiety filled, but how faithful the Lord has been to me to make those verses from Ephesians 3 a reality in my heart.  I’m grateful to have had experiences that were so outside my ability and comfort zone that I had to rely totally on the Lord.  In the process, I have learned so much more about just how high, and wide, and deep, and broad the love of Jesus is and in so doing, I’m now able to demonstrate His love to the others He brings across my path.

 

 

 

A SURPRISING CHANGE OF HEART

If you have been following my blogs then you know that Jim and I are planning a move to Florida, hopefully early next fall.  Due to life circumstances, back when the economy fell a few years ago, our daughter Becky, her husband Nathan, and our now 17 year old granddaughter, Emma, have been living with us.  With the advent of Emma’s last year in high school, the time has come to think seriously about a move.  We’ve already started cleaning out filing cabinets and getting ready for the first of many garage sales.  But a move wasn’t always something I anticipated with happiness.

Jim, God bless him, worked hard for more than 40 years for Deloitte, and saved for retirement.  Florida, that income tax free, low property tax, senior friendly state, has been calling his name since the day he closed the door to his office and never looked back.  While he was imagining his stress free life in that “stretch your retirement dollars as far as they can go” mecca, I was digging in my heels in good old New Jersey soil!  I did not want to go to Florida!

All I could think of were the losses.  I would have to leave the state I have called home since I was a baby.  The celebration of the joys of the changing seasons would be a thing of the past.  My loving, supportive, and much loved church family would be left behind.  We’d have to say good-bye to my brother and Jim’s, all still living here in New Jersey.

And then there was the weather!  I hate hot and humid.  My very own internal flame causes me to break out in a sweat in a sub-zero blizzard in January, how would I ever manage when it was ALWAYS hot and humid?

My daughter, Becky, who LOVES Florida in any season, and who plans to move there herself, would give me pep talks whenever I would give verbal vent to my doubts.  She’d remind me of how much better it would be as I got older never to have to shovel a sidewalk again, or tread lightly on ice.  She would remind me that there were also churches in Florida and we would find one and make it home, as we’d done before right here in New Jersey.  And she’d encourage me that before I knew it, I would be making new friends, teaching in a church, or attending a Bible study, or doing something else I loved here in New Jersey – only in Florida.

I grappled with all of it for a long time without letting go of my resentment.  Until I finally took it to the Lord.  Essentially, I said: “You know, Lord that I don’t especially want to go to Florida, but Jim does.  So, Lord, if this is something You want me to do, You’re going to have to change my heart.”

It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually I began to stop thinking only about me and start thinking about Jim.  It would be hard, I think, to find a more hardworking and faithful man when it comes to preparing for the future.  Jim worked long hours at Deloitte, with a 3 hour a day commute for many of the last years and he saved, and saved.  How could I now refuse to consider a move that would enable those retirement dollars to sustain us for even longer because I just didn’t want to go elsewhere?

When my eyes shifted from ME to Jim, my resentment left, and I began to think differently about a move.  I will still find it hard to leave my church family.  I love serving the Lord with them and worshipping together on Sunday.  They will be greatly missed.

It will be hard leaving family behind and maybe having to find new ways to celebrate family holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I will most definitely miss the change of seasons.  I’m sure that will take a few years to get used to, but I was there once in February when it felt like May here in New Jersey.  I think Februarys that feel like Mays might just be pretty easy to get used to.

Then there is the heat and humidity.  Thank the Lord for air conditioning!  I’m hoping for a lot of help from the Lord for that one!  However, I did see my mom, who originally hated the heat of Florida, adapt.

I thought it was especially funny when today I received an e mail from Becky, who is currently vacationing in Florida.  She and her family also plan to move to Florida next fall.  This time it was SHE who was having doubts about moving to Florida and I giving the pep talk! 

Lord willing, this time next year, all of us will have made the move.  In the meantime, we’ll be savoring all the delights of fall, winter, and spring, alongside all the New Jersians we know and love, right here in our good old home state. 

 

 

THE ANNIVERSARY OF A LIFETIME!

Yesterday some friends were here for lunch when one of them turned to me and said, “By the way, Happy Anniversary”.  Jim and I celebrated our 44^th wedding anniversary back in July so I thought that’s the anniversary she had in mind.  It wasn’t, because she followed it up with, “the anniversary of your kidney surgery”.  Since the other guests at the table wanted to know more about it, I found myself reliving that event all over again.

It began with a Facebook link to an organ donor site, posted by Jennifer, a woman from my church.  She had just heard that the disease which affected her kidneys had progressed to the stage where going on dialysis would probably be only six months away.  At the urging of her daughters, she posted the link to the donor’s website with a, “it can’t hurt to get it out there” attitude.

I had known for some time, along with all the members of our church, that Jennifer had her name on a transplant list, but it wasn’t until I saw the link and realized the reality of a kidney shutdown in her not too distant future, that God began to speak to my heart about being her donor.  I visited the site and began to consider what to do next.

I had always admired Jennifer as a vibrant, spunky women.  She’s written a book, writes columns for local papers, travels into New York City by herself all the time, sightseeing or showing friends around, a woman diseased kidneys just can’t keep down!   She has an exuberance for life that makes her fun to be around.  I thought, if I could help this woman to get more years out of the life she lives to the full, despite diseased kidneys, then I was willing to do it!

So, I checked my blood type, which “happened” to be compatible with Jennifer’s.  Then I went into the city to New York Presbyterian Hospital for the cross match testing.  By this time, through far too many seeming “coincidences”, I was so confident that the Lord was leading me, that when Jennifer called to say we were a match, I said, “Well, of course we are!”  What followed was more than a year of further testing before I was finally approved as a donor and the surgery was scheduled.

Jennifer and I checked into the hospital for our surgery on August 14, 2013.  If you have ever been sure of the call of God on your life and determined to follow where He leads, then you KNOW what that morning was like for us.  We knew surgery and it’s recovery period, with the resulting discomfort and fatigue, lay ahead for us.  We knew the risks as well.  So there was some anxiety, naturally, but mostly we were flying high on adrenaline and the Holy Spirit!  We had a host of prayer support with us, plus our praying brothers and sisters in Christ from all over the country, and pray we did!  And the Lord was completely faithful!

Jennifer and I came through the surgery with flying colors!  We were interviewed just a few days later by television newscasters and we even made it on local TV where we had a wonderful opportunity to talk about the Lord and how He had led.  I know for me, and I can probably speak for Jennifer as well, it was a HUGE mountaintop experience for our faith!

A year has come and gone, with our kidneys continuing to work at optimum performance!  Jennifer has had a new lease on life, although she still faces other, equally serious, health challenges.  What a blessing it has been for her to have one huge one removed!  For me, kidney donation was a piece of cake!  Okay, so maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration!  It is true that apart from the usual post-surgery discomfort, it wasn’t long before I was back to the gym, living the life I’ve always lived, not even noticing the absence of a kidney.

There have been a few other situations in my life (job opportunities, mission trips, teaching Sunday school, even a cancer diagnosis) where the Lord clearly spoke to my heart, suggesting some avenue of adventure in which to follow Him.  I always did some thinking and praying about it before I followed, because each opportunity came with a risk, plus accompanying anxiety, as is true whenever the Lord asks us to venture into the unknown.  I wanted to be sure each time that I was willing to see it through to the end before making a move.  However, the assurance of the Lord’s will and the constant comfort of His presence, as well as the overarching sense of anticipation and excitement, gave me the courage to take the first step, confident that where He was leading would always be far better than anything I might have planned for my life. 

He has never disappointed. 

 “Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to Your Name be the glory, because of Your love and faithfulness.” Psalm 115:1