Two weeks ago, my grandmother Aleta Jo fell and broke her hip, and has been in the hospital for surgery and rehab ever since. I've spoken with her a few times, including today. She said a few things that both touched and broke my heart:
- She's loved spoiling her grandkids, and she's sorry that she can't do it anymore.
- She's concerned about whether or not she'll be able to live on her own after this, which she so loves to do.
- She's so proud of Chris and me for finishing payment on student loans, and would have paid for them herself, if she could have.
- She thinks I'm a mature young woman and that Chris is a wonderful husband to me -- the one she has been praying for for me since before I was born (now those were beautiful things to hear).
Hearing these things from my grandmother was difficult, yet special. Difficult, because once upon a time, everything we talked about was simply happy, and she and I were so much younger. Special, because she now trusts me, as an adult, with the thoughts of her heart.
It serves to remind me that I cannot escape the changes that come with time. They bring both good and bad. They are normal, and universal. There is no point in the fearing the changes -- they will come, and by God's grace, we can walk through them well.
I feel as if a baton has been passed. My time of childishness is over and done, and while I will jealousy guard my childlike heart, I walk forward into adulthood with confidence, knowing that the Lord is over and above time itself. He can walk atop the tumultuous changes just as Jesus walked on the roiling surface of the waves so long ago.
Showing posts with label maturity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maturity. Show all posts
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Book of Questions
What do we wait for?
What do we wait for while we sit here, the netherworld of the amorphous "future?"
What do we do as we float in that space before the "real world?" Do we live in a fake world now?
What do we wait for?
What do we work for?
What do we work for while we do work to earn work?
What do we work for as we work at what our hearts love, knowing our hearts alone won't keep us alive?
What do we work for?
Who are we?
Who are we while the world strives to define us by what we do? Are we students? Are we employees?
Who are we as grow into people that no people have ever seen us be before?
Who are we?
Christ has signed his name over my book of questions --
as I question, I will call on his name and remember
who I wait for,
who I work for,
who he is.
What do we wait for while we sit here, the netherworld of the amorphous "future?"
What do we do as we float in that space before the "real world?" Do we live in a fake world now?
What do we wait for?
What do we work for?
What do we work for while we do work to earn work?
What do we work for as we work at what our hearts love, knowing our hearts alone won't keep us alive?
What do we work for?
Who are we?
Who are we while the world strives to define us by what we do? Are we students? Are we employees?
Who are we as grow into people that no people have ever seen us be before?
Who are we?
Christ has signed his name over my book of questions --
as I question, I will call on his name and remember
who I wait for,
who I work for,
who he is.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Losing Control Never Looked So Good
If there's a specific moment where you give your life up, I haven't put my finger on it, yet.
The concept of "Losing your life" is amorphous, yet I can almost reach out and touch it. The moment you realize that nothing you do for yourself matters is the same moment you realize, as in Hannah Hurnard's Hinds' Feet on High Places, that it is "happy to love." After you surrender, you know that there will be more joy and satisfaction in your life than you've ever known, and that it will just keep growing.
It hardly makes sense! If you lose everything that gives you control, or maybe just orients you in reality as you know it to be, what comes afterward? What specifically brings the joy and satisfaction? It's like flinging yourself off a cliff only to land on a precipice. You do the appointed task there, and then jump off again.
You know, I've never been much of a thrill seeker, but it would be the greatest honor to be given the power to finally jump.
I don't think it is a lighting bolt moment...simply the end of one process, and the beginning of a new one.
That, dear reader, is pretty exciting.
The concept of "Losing your life" is amorphous, yet I can almost reach out and touch it. The moment you realize that nothing you do for yourself matters is the same moment you realize, as in Hannah Hurnard's Hinds' Feet on High Places, that it is "happy to love." After you surrender, you know that there will be more joy and satisfaction in your life than you've ever known, and that it will just keep growing.
It hardly makes sense! If you lose everything that gives you control, or maybe just orients you in reality as you know it to be, what comes afterward? What specifically brings the joy and satisfaction? It's like flinging yourself off a cliff only to land on a precipice. You do the appointed task there, and then jump off again.
You know, I've never been much of a thrill seeker, but it would be the greatest honor to be given the power to finally jump.
I don't think it is a lighting bolt moment...simply the end of one process, and the beginning of a new one.
That, dear reader, is pretty exciting.
Monday, October 5, 2009
What Makes You Think It's O.K. to Say That?!
Assignment? Op-ed. Solution? A long-prepared rant about how being a baby-face can be more than a bit vexing!
---
Help me out here; confirm I’m not crazy. If someone walked up and said, “Why, So-and-So, you’re looking fat today,” So-and-So would feel pretty offended. Or, if someone looked straight into the face of a middle-ager and declared, “Wow, you look old,” said middle-ager might be tempted to haul off and slap the person. Don’t you agree?
These are examples of a wonderful little thing called brazen faux pas. If you’re a bit rusty on the French, let me sum it up: There are certain things you just don’t say to people.
What if the person launched into an even more detailed insult by explaining his position? What if he tried to excuse himself by declaring his affronts veiled compliments? The addressee would be angry, right? He’d want to walk away, or deliver some choice words of his own, right? Please, tell me I’m not alone in this!
I ask because it makes no sense to me why it’s not okay to comment on weight, old age, ugliness, and the like, but it’s completely fine to comment on how young a person looks. At 4’11,’’ with a petite frame, I am a prime target for these gross offenders. Apparently, I practically scream, “Make an annoying comment about how you can’t believe I’m twenty,” because I get those comments all the time. I think it’s about time somebody takes a stand for the baby-faces.
I doubt that the people who say, wide-eyed, “But…you look THIRTEEN!” even think before they speak. As a general rule, thinking is a good first step to conducting yourself well in public, and to strangers. First, if you know what you’re saying could be potentially insulting, why on earth would you trumpet it out in public? Second, if you’ve just met the person and have spent zero time with him or her, why do you think you have the right to speak so freely to him or her?
There have been countless incidences, some easier to brush off than others. Particularly frustrating was the lunch a few years back where I received the kids’ menu at a local restaurant. Other abuses include patronizing croons of all varieties of “sweetie” and “honey” (I’m pretty sure the first person to call me “ma’am” very nearly stole my heart). The worst of it is—and I forgive you if you’ve said it before, as long as you promise never to use it again—the unoriginal and very ineffective rebuttal of, “You’ll appreciate it when you’re forty.”
Clearly, I’m not forty, so please wait to make your comment until a later date. Clearly, you think I look more like fourteen. And I really don’t like being both seen and treated as a pubescent emotional time-bomb with a pretty face—there’s a reason we only have to go through middle school once.
This is important and somewhat infuriating to me because your perception of a person inevitably bleeds over into your communication with them. Comments on a person’s age can communicate either respect or condescension, and determine how that person interacts with you from the first meeting on. There are people that I know love me dearly who convey nothing but coddling when they are with me—that keeps me from getting to know them better, because I’m immediately turned off to having an adult conversation with them.
So, reader, if you ever see my baby face, remember that I wrote this article without the help of my parents, that I am an adult and that if you treat me and the other baby faces of the world with respect, we just might tell you that you look young when you’re forty.
---
Help me out here; confirm I’m not crazy. If someone walked up and said, “Why, So-and-So, you’re looking fat today,” So-and-So would feel pretty offended. Or, if someone looked straight into the face of a middle-ager and declared, “Wow, you look old,” said middle-ager might be tempted to haul off and slap the person. Don’t you agree?
These are examples of a wonderful little thing called brazen faux pas. If you’re a bit rusty on the French, let me sum it up: There are certain things you just don’t say to people.
What if the person launched into an even more detailed insult by explaining his position? What if he tried to excuse himself by declaring his affronts veiled compliments? The addressee would be angry, right? He’d want to walk away, or deliver some choice words of his own, right? Please, tell me I’m not alone in this!
I ask because it makes no sense to me why it’s not okay to comment on weight, old age, ugliness, and the like, but it’s completely fine to comment on how young a person looks. At 4’11,’’ with a petite frame, I am a prime target for these gross offenders. Apparently, I practically scream, “Make an annoying comment about how you can’t believe I’m twenty,” because I get those comments all the time. I think it’s about time somebody takes a stand for the baby-faces.
I doubt that the people who say, wide-eyed, “But…you look THIRTEEN!” even think before they speak. As a general rule, thinking is a good first step to conducting yourself well in public, and to strangers. First, if you know what you’re saying could be potentially insulting, why on earth would you trumpet it out in public? Second, if you’ve just met the person and have spent zero time with him or her, why do you think you have the right to speak so freely to him or her?
There have been countless incidences, some easier to brush off than others. Particularly frustrating was the lunch a few years back where I received the kids’ menu at a local restaurant. Other abuses include patronizing croons of all varieties of “sweetie” and “honey” (I’m pretty sure the first person to call me “ma’am” very nearly stole my heart). The worst of it is—and I forgive you if you’ve said it before, as long as you promise never to use it again—the unoriginal and very ineffective rebuttal of, “You’ll appreciate it when you’re forty.”
Clearly, I’m not forty, so please wait to make your comment until a later date. Clearly, you think I look more like fourteen. And I really don’t like being both seen and treated as a pubescent emotional time-bomb with a pretty face—there’s a reason we only have to go through middle school once.
This is important and somewhat infuriating to me because your perception of a person inevitably bleeds over into your communication with them. Comments on a person’s age can communicate either respect or condescension, and determine how that person interacts with you from the first meeting on. There are people that I know love me dearly who convey nothing but coddling when they are with me—that keeps me from getting to know them better, because I’m immediately turned off to having an adult conversation with them.
So, reader, if you ever see my baby face, remember that I wrote this article without the help of my parents, that I am an adult and that if you treat me and the other baby faces of the world with respect, we just might tell you that you look young when you’re forty.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Contemplations of a Young Wife, Fourth Part
Before I begin, my favorite quote of the week from the professor happily featured in an earlier blog post: "I hope I don't puncture anyone's faith with this." Yeah right, professor. Yeah right.
So, even though being married and in school does--as many direly warned me--eliminate some of "the college experience," I certainly had my fair share of it living in the dorms for two years.
For example, I got to experience the glorious reign of baby bows! Yes, you heard me correctly. If you spent but one day on the campus of the University of Oklahoma last fall, you must have seen hundreds of primped and polished young women wearing great shoes, sharply-cut jeans, brightly-colored Greek shirts...and baby bows. So rampant were they that our floor activity one month was creating these little wonders with ribbon and hot glue.
Reader, I had no clue how to make a baby bow, but I truly wanted one. Instead of asking for an example or demonstration of how to construct said bow, I decided to take a stab at it alone. Basically, I took a piece of ribbon, tied it in a few random places, balled up the rest and attempted to glue the ball somewhere beneath the clip so no one would be able to tell it was not the work of a sorority craftsmistress. Needless to say, I never wore my baby bow.
And now, the segue.
So it is with learning how to be married--how to be a godly wife. How will we know how to practice godliness with our spouse--from hospitality to selflessness to patience--unless we have an example, a demonstration? Yes, we know what the end product looks like, but what's underneath? Surely it's not a balled mess of ribbon just waiting to come apart. There is a foundation, and a process.
I was confused about married life yesterday (nothing new) and spoke with our mentor couple. They elucidated so much, simply by asking the right questions, counseling me based on their past experiences and pointing me to Christ with their Christ-like example. I walked away inexpressibly grateful for the physical manifestation of the Lord in the Church body.
This principle extends beyond marriage. Whether you're single, dating,engaged, married, a hermit, examples are essential. We don't automatically know things, as nice as that would be, so God has given us resources in people to aid and encourage us. Let us take hold of that and let God use us in the same way with others.
So, even though being married and in school does--as many direly warned me--eliminate some of "the college experience," I certainly had my fair share of it living in the dorms for two years.
For example, I got to experience the glorious reign of baby bows! Yes, you heard me correctly. If you spent but one day on the campus of the University of Oklahoma last fall, you must have seen hundreds of primped and polished young women wearing great shoes, sharply-cut jeans, brightly-colored Greek shirts...and baby bows. So rampant were they that our floor activity one month was creating these little wonders with ribbon and hot glue.
Reader, I had no clue how to make a baby bow, but I truly wanted one. Instead of asking for an example or demonstration of how to construct said bow, I decided to take a stab at it alone. Basically, I took a piece of ribbon, tied it in a few random places, balled up the rest and attempted to glue the ball somewhere beneath the clip so no one would be able to tell it was not the work of a sorority craftsmistress. Needless to say, I never wore my baby bow.
And now, the segue.
So it is with learning how to be married--how to be a godly wife. How will we know how to practice godliness with our spouse--from hospitality to selflessness to patience--unless we have an example, a demonstration? Yes, we know what the end product looks like, but what's underneath? Surely it's not a balled mess of ribbon just waiting to come apart. There is a foundation, and a process.
I was confused about married life yesterday (nothing new) and spoke with our mentor couple. They elucidated so much, simply by asking the right questions, counseling me based on their past experiences and pointing me to Christ with their Christ-like example. I walked away inexpressibly grateful for the physical manifestation of the Lord in the Church body.
This principle extends beyond marriage. Whether you're single, dating,engaged, married, a hermit, examples are essential. We don't automatically know things, as nice as that would be, so God has given us resources in people to aid and encourage us. Let us take hold of that and let God use us in the same way with others.
Blessed be...the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).
Sunday, August 30, 2009
I don't like the Greek letter delta
I must admit that I've been a bit depressed throughout the past week. I'm not sure I'm sure why. I often cast about wildly for explanations to my varied and strong emotions and, as a result, end up mislabeling the cause for them. Sometimes, though, I see causes returning in a goodly pattern that helps me arrive at sound conclusions.
Well, good reader, I've cast, and I've perhaps caught. It's CHANGE that's the culprit.
If you read my blog for long, you'll discover change often is. Even when life alters for better, I see the alteration as a chapter closing, never to be reopened, and I mourn it. Mourn is a strong word, but the best I can find; I experience something akin to the grieving process. I walk about disoriented. Then, I find myself sniping or snapping at my husband and other loved ones. Finally, I let myself cry. Sweet catharsis, then I'm done.
God is teaching me how to trust Him in the midst of change, to know Him as my stability and to find Him completely faithful and trustworthy. He's been teaching that to all of us, I think, from the moment we were born. I count myself blessed to have the opportunity to put His teaching into practice; now let me act on that thought and rejoice! I want to be a woman of Psalm 50:23, who offers thanksgiving as her sacrifice to glorify God!
Chris and I both feel that our lives will be characterized by change. Thank you, God, for gently teaching me to deal now rather than in the future.
P.S. For anti-math readers: The title is a mathematical reference that I'm sure I shamefully misused.
Well, good reader, I've cast, and I've perhaps caught. It's CHANGE that's the culprit.
If you read my blog for long, you'll discover change often is. Even when life alters for better, I see the alteration as a chapter closing, never to be reopened, and I mourn it. Mourn is a strong word, but the best I can find; I experience something akin to the grieving process. I walk about disoriented. Then, I find myself sniping or snapping at my husband and other loved ones. Finally, I let myself cry. Sweet catharsis, then I'm done.
God is teaching me how to trust Him in the midst of change, to know Him as my stability and to find Him completely faithful and trustworthy. He's been teaching that to all of us, I think, from the moment we were born. I count myself blessed to have the opportunity to put His teaching into practice; now let me act on that thought and rejoice! I want to be a woman of Psalm 50:23, who offers thanksgiving as her sacrifice to glorify God!
Chris and I both feel that our lives will be characterized by change. Thank you, God, for gently teaching me to deal now rather than in the future.
P.S. For anti-math readers: The title is a mathematical reference that I'm sure I shamefully misused.
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