Forgotten

Remember those school days when you weren't completely sure who your true friends were? There were kids who were nice to you, but when the time came for parties and dates, would you make the cut? High school was the social version of the classic P.E. choosing of the teams...who would be first and who would be last? Status was determined by who was wanted and who was not.

If you're clueless about what I'm writing about, this entry is not for you. You were one of those starlets who was picked first, got the guy (or girl) you always wanted, and never worried about being accepted socially. For anyone else, this blog's for you!

This insecurity has been swirling around inside my gut for the last few days. It peaked when I had a terrible dream that my husband wanted a divorce. (We're still madly in love, don't worry mom!) I always push these feelings back down and think I've defeated them, but then, days, or months later, they'll be back.

I remember sitting on my mom's bed as a child crying about not having any friends because I was fat. Looking back, I don't really know how overweight I was, but I do know that I wasn't accepted at elementary school because of it. To top it off, my family didn't have nearly as much money as the "sub-division" kids, so I rarely had the same new stuff that they did. Kids were cruel and I just didn't fit in.

Teasing and taunts lessened as I got older, mainly because the other kids grew out of that stage and turned to more subtle tactics. I got tougher, too, at least on the outside. I learned how to shove my emotions aside and lie to myself, saying that an invite to this or that really didn't matter to me. But it did. (I usually coped by eating more food. At least that was something I could control.)

For my sixteenth birthday my friends decided it would be great to pretend to forget that it was my birthday. All day long I went around and didn't get even one happy birthday wish or acknowledgment. Even my boyfriend was in on it! After school, one of my friends asked me to go somewhere with her. I was bummed but I went along anyway. We landed at a surprise party...but what should have been fabulous fun was spoiled by my insecurity. I honestly believed that everyone had forgotten about me.

That birthday happened 15 years ago and it is still fresh in my mind...how I felt the whole day over, not just during the party. These days, I find myself trying to make sure that other people don't experience what I hated so much...feeling left out. I overcompensate by inviting people over, planning events, etc.

Now, my old insecurities are resurfacing. Faced with an unwanted move to an unknown place, I fear that the handful of friends I have now will forget me. They will go on having fun without me and that will be that. I worry that I really don't matter..there are days when I judge my worth on the number of invitations I find in my mailbox. On days when I hear of others getting together without me, that hurts even more.

The difference is that I'm ready to face these insecurities and emotions now, and I know that the answer is not in a batch of brownies. I'm rather inclined to think that the answer lies somewhere in the Good Book, although I'm also pretty sure that God doesn't have a chapter titled, "For those who feel left out."

How about Luke 12:6&7?...Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Really, God has a way of cheering you up. What a pep talk! I love my Norah and Ethan like mad, but I have no clue how many hairs they have on their heads. God cares for me! And he really doesn't enjoy this pity-party I've been writing about. Jesus understands the hardships I've had in life. He had more than his share, but he didn't wallow in them.

Ezekiel 36:26
I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.

Lord, please remove this hardened, stony part of my heart and replace it with new, alive love that has no fear of being forgotten.

Amen!

The Digital Holiday

As my family plans for the holidays, memories from the past few Christmas seasons have come rushing back. I remember that, amidst all the commotion there are the special, quiet moments. There are the days when the snow twinkles and shimmers and you almost like winter. There are the incredibly adorable things your kids do, things that no other child has ever done quite like yours.

Ahhh, the Kodak moments!

Alas, so many people these days are trying to capture the Kodak moment that there are fewer and fewer people left in the picture. I remember one time last Christmas where my two kids played by the tree while the six adults stood around snapping pictures or videoing the event. What has happened to us?

Let me challenge you to do with less this year. Have fewer cameras at your holiday gathering. Let the photo diva do her thing and give her a few bucks to make a copy and send you a CD. Or get your relative to post the pics to Walgreens and order the prints that you'd like. Maybe you all like to take pictures. Great! Take turns. You get Christmas, I'll take Thanksgiving.

Let's just not forget the reason we got together in the first place!

Even When You're Naughty

My mom used to tell me, and I find myself telling my son, that I love him even when he is naughty. I especially make sure to tell him this during and after discipline, and his eyes always get a bit bigger, like he is trying to figure this out. To him, love still means something that he likes (he's only 4.) So I follow up that statement with an explanation that loving him is not the same as liking what he did...

Well, just the other day I was being particularly naughty with my food tracker. I wasn't feeling very good, I was having a pity-party, and was being particularly self-indulgent and reckless. It struck me that the message I was giving my son all along was true for me, too. That God loves me even when I'm naughty. That is such a hard thing to swallow. All my life I've thought of God as being this divine policeman, ready to pounce at any rule-breaker. So to picture God loving me even when I'm naughty, well, that puts a whole different spin on our relationship.

He definitely doesn't enjoy these times. I'm sure they sadden him and frustrate him like I get when my son disobeys. But for me, the rebellion of disobedience changes. It looses its glamor when I'm breaking God's heart rather than "sticking it to" the authorities. I think that's true in parenting, too. When we really show our kids our broken hearts they are much more likely to sway over to our side than if we act the part of strict disciplinarian.

So, even when you are at your most unloveable, you are still loved by the One who made you. Even when you're naughty. Chew on that.

A New Use for a Diaper

We've been enjoying unseasonable October temperatures. Today it soared into the mid-70's, unheard of in Michigan at this time. Two years ago on this date it snowed in Grand Rapids!

To take advantage of the beautiful weather and reward ourselves with some family time, Derek and I loaded the kids, our rollerblades, and the burley into the van and set off for Kent Trails. (We picked that particular trail because it is relatively flat and we thought Derek would have more control over the stroller.)

Ethan had never seen us rollerblade before, so when we got there he was thrilled to see his mom and dad with wheels on their feet.

"I'm going to rollerblade when I get to be a grown-up," Ethan informed us.

"Really," I said, "You could do it right now. Kids can rollerblade, too, just like Miss Allyson's son Ben was doing the other day. He was wearing pads on his knees and arms and wrists, and a helmet, too. That was to keep him from getting hurt if he fell down."

"I don't want to fall. I'm going to rollerblade when I'm a grownup."

"I fell when I was a kid and I was okay," I told him.

I was thinking about the time I was on brand-new inline skates and tripped over a railroad crossing. That left me with nice road rash and a scar that took too many years to go away.

The kids squealed with delight as Derek pushed them down the trail. "This is way faster than when you jog us, mom! This is fun!"

As we breezed down the trail I thanked my husband for the outing, soaking in the beautiful evening that shouldn't be a part of October. The trees were just starting to turn and everyone was in a great mood. Awesome.

We reminisced about times past spent on the trail. The last time we'd been to Kent Trails was pre-kids. A lot had changed. We used to dream about building a house, or having kids, as we'd blade down the trail. Now we were in the middle of a huge house remodel and we had the kids. There's a huge difference between dreaming about these things and actually living them. They are so all-consuming, so life changing that you cannot fathom the life changes that come with a house and kids. But I digress...

After the "tunnel of trees" (where I languished in more memories) we were coming to a stop sign. Derek was saying something, I remember, when my skate hit a stick. Before I even realized what had happened, I was on the ground holding my left leg and watching blood come out of cracks on my right knee.

Derek looked back. "Are you okay?"

"No."

He steered the stroller over to me. I didn't want to remove the pressure from my left leg...the pressure was the only thing keeping all of my insides from falling out, I'm sure. Reluctantly I peeled my hand back and surveyed the damage. Really, it was just a minor case of road rash that happened to go halfway down my calf. Lots of chunky gravel embedded in there along with some nice red blood for color. "There go the mini-skirts," I muttered.

What was I going to do? I couldn't skate down the path like that; I'd leave a trail of blood the whole way. Anyhow, I needed to get it cleaned up. And who was going to take care of me? I'm the "nurse" in the family, and Derek had the two kids to keep an eye on.

As I hadn't fallen in fifteen years, I was not prepared to nurse wounds on the fly. Looking in the back of the Burley yielded one water bottle and one fresh diaper. Hmm... I did grow up in a family that prided itself on ingenuity. Take what you have and make it work.

I rinsed as much blood/gravel off of my leg as I could with the water bottle. That got me a semi-clean leg and wet socks. Next, the diaper. It turns out that a diaper nicely fits around my calves. I pulled the tabs tight for a snug fit. Voila! The world's first diaper bandage.

Awkwardly standing back up, I told Derek that I would try to skate back and that we'd have to go a bit slower now.

So I paraded down Kent Trails, bleeding out of one knee and with a diaper on the other. The funny thing is, some people didn't even notice. Some kids gave me funny looks, and one set of women started chuckling after I passed by. At first I was really embarrassed. Then I realized that there was nothing I could do about it, short of sitting and wallowing in self-pity. Didn't want to go there, so I plodded on at half-speed.

As I skated, a verse came to mind:

Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.
Proverbs 16:18

My pride did come before this literal fall. If I had not been overly confident, I would have watched the ground more carefully. If I wasn't prideful, I would have bought geeky looking knee pads and wrist guards and wore them. I also realized that I was prideful of my calves and bummed that they had to become road rash.

Interestingly enough, I wasn't even aware of any pride problems in this area. I guess I've learned to keep my eyes open, not only looking for sticks but hidden sins, like pride.

I Didn't Do a Thing

I've been working up my distance and pace on my bi-weekly jog. I'm up to a whopping 2 miles in our hilly neighborhood, and I'm trying to get it under 20 minutes. That's a whopping improvement over 3 weeks ago when the jog was shorter and I walked up the hills. Anyhow, it amazes me how many random thoughts babble through my mind while I jog. (By the way, how fast do you have to go before you get to start calling it a run?)

I usually start off thinking over the day, then I pray for about 20 seconds until a squirrel distracts me and I'm thinking about fall, acorns, and putting away the hose for the winter. Today's jog made me chuckle, though, because it was filled with tons of writing titles. Seriously, every few steps brought a new title to mind about some article or essay that should get written. Some were funny,some were serious, but the one that stuck came just as I was started a mild descent after a long climb.

My legs loosened, my pace quickened, and it all got easier. And I didn't do a thing to make it happen. Sure I had a choice to go jogging, but the terrain in my neighborhood is not optional. You jog, you get hills.

While I was jogging (clap for me...I didn't walk tonight!) up the monster hill at the end of my route I really couldn't think of anything beyond my next breath. But as I came over the crest and relief flooded my lungs, Hebrews 12:1 popped to mind: Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

I'd thought a lot about the parts talking about the "cloud of witnesses and throwing off the sin that entangles," but this most recent job gave me a fresh perspective on the "race marked out for us" section

I don't get to pick it.

There are hills, mountains, moguls, and mud pits on my racecourse and I don't get to plan their size, shape, or intensity.

What is up to me?

Perseverance. Participation. Throwing off sin with God's help.

The good thing about going uphill, even when it comes at the end of your run, is knowing that there will be another downhill. It may be hard now, but, given time, it will get easier and then you will feel on top of the world.

Persevere.

God uses this time to build history with us. Here, he says, let me help you up this hill, because when you're on top of the world you tend to forget about me.

I don't think I will ever enjoy jogging up hills but I do appreciate them and the role they play in my life.