Rewriting the Past on Purpose

As believers, we have God's promise in Proverbs 4:18, that "The path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day." (ESV)

The normal Christian life is one that grows better and better.  As we allow God to have His way in us, our perspective gets brighter, our faith grows, the old sins that used to trip us up fall off, and the things which seemed so difficult to forgive when we were young pale in comparison to the knowledge of our own depravity and how much we've been forgiven.

Lately, I've been looking back at some once painful memories, but with new eyes and a wiser perspective.  It's not been a deliberate choice----it's been more of a God journey, because He wants me to see things back there that I didn't see at the time.

And I am realizing that in some cases, the stuff I was carrying at the time, kept me from having His perspective on those moments.  So, here's a recent example.  One of the things which has kept me from aspects of my destiny is my tendency to "dabble."  I enjoy serving, but I get bored easily.  So, I jump around a lot.  I'm lucky enough to have a number of friends who speak into my life, and one of them took me aside at one point and pointed out, how this tendency was hurting me.  But at the time?  Rather than hearing the heart of my friend to help?  All I could hear was judgment.  I judged their advice to be short-sighted, and trying to force my personality into a mold that only some fit.

Yesterday a different friend said the same thing to me but in a slightly different way. It wasn't about restricting freedom, it wasn't about not allowing me to be me.  It was that longevity in a post gives one a platform.  The lightbulb clicked on, and in my spirit I was like, "Ohhhhhhhhhh." Had I listened the first time, perhaps I'd be further down the road than I am now.  

This kind of thing is happening a lot these days, and I find God to be not only the author of my story, but also the Editor.  He is doing what I could never do on my own----rewriting history, changing my memories, producing a new script for events which have already occurred.  

I'm not suggesting we should live in the past, or analyze every situation that ever caused us pain.  

The real lesson I feel He is teaching me thru this is to be more open to the possibility of being wrong in the moment.  To hold my opinions gently, and to trust those He has put in my life.  To recognize His voice when He speaks thru others and to heed it the first time around, so precious life isn't poured out upon an altar of stubbornness and pride and self-preservation.

I'm learning to let my Father rewrite my past on purpose, and to trust Him to author my story in part by using ghostwriters He employs.  

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Photo credit:  Fabien Barral on Unsplash.

https://unsplash.com/@iammrcup

The Gift You Are

I love receiving gifts.  I love the lone flower given by a child, plucked from their garden (or their neighbor's) just before coming to school.  I love the spontaneous cards my students make when spurred on by a strong emotion. And I love the more formal gifts, given on birthdays and other special occasions.  There is something about the hidden nature of a present . . .the moments right before you open it, the guessing before the unveiling.  There is something extra special about the gifts in boxes, wrapped in carefully chosen paper, with beautiful bows skillfully created.  Gifts bestow honor, they reveal the heart of a giver.  They are like a commercial break in the middle of a relationship that says "Wait.  Stop.  Let's pause for a second because I just have to tell you what you mean to me."  And then the show goes on.  

I love giving gifts.  It's kind of my favorite thing.  I love thinking about the person I'm gifting, I love remembering conversations, hearing wishes that have been given voice.  I love spying items a loved one would love 6 months ahead of time, and purchasing it for a future moment.  I love the opening.  I LOVE the opening.  I love when I've done my research well, and the gift fits the person just right or is exactly what they've been thinking about buying.

I've received some amazing gifts.  The luxurious, the sentimental, the unexpected, the kind that make you cry--not from what they are--but from what they represent---or that are given just when you felt like giving up.  

But the best gifts in my life?  Are you.

Every relationship has something to offer.  Every relationship brings a fragrance.  Every relationship gifts the other.

My lifelong friend Laura, whom I have so little in common with as an adult, gifts years and years of memories, arguments about which beach to play on, and an alternate perspective to consider while becoming myself.  Her family were nature-loving, tree-hugging liberals and owned stock in the only bookstore in town which I was not allowed to enter, because of my family's political beliefs.  She was the wild, loud friend who got my brothers all riled up when she visited, and I can't imagine how boring elementary school would have been without her. When we visit  now, she hopes for a 5-mile walk with the dog, I hope for a cup of coffee.  We couldn't be more different.  Her difference gifts me.  It taught me at a young age, that people with strong opposing opinions and world views can walk in harmony and find common ground.

My friend Diana and I had a year together.  She came unannounced into my world one Saturday night at our eccumenical youth group.  I was instantly jealous of her because on her first night she was breezy and seemed to own the place, while I belonged there, but with typical teenage angst, didn't know it.  But a conversation later, and we were inseperable.  Her personality fit mine like a glove, and together we had a year of adventures which included "fasting until death" for this young man we had a burden for (I got convicted and gave up after 2 days, she kept going much longer.)  Together, we braved a swim in the Pacific Ocean in February, we picked up hitchhikers and witnessed to them as we drove them to their party place, we kissed strangers on New Years.  She gifted me with adventure, with whimsy, with fun, with companionship.

I give past examples because if I were to start on present relationships, I'd never get done.   There are those who gift laughter, there are those who gift their ear, there are those who gift unmeasurable acceptance.  I have friends who provoke me to good works, and those who gift accountability.  Friends who would give me the shirt off their backs, and those who put me up when I've lost my keys.  I am fortunate.  

We are all a gift to those we come in contact with.  Who we are gives to those around us, even when we don't realize it.  The personality and gifts God has planted, and the character we've allowed Him to work in us give off a fragrance, one that is distinguishable to those we walk near.  

I have a friendship that I'm kind of insecure in, because many times it feels like I am the recipient, and I wonder how my life gifts this friend.  She tells me it's my peacefulness which ministers to her. This surprised me greatly (I was expecting my amazing wit, or profound beauty) but peacefulness is a quality I recognize about myself, so it makes sense that it's a fragrance others whiff.

A rose can only give the fragrance of a rose.  A cup of coffee will never smell like a rose, though many might (rightly) argue it's scent is just as lovely.  We can only give who we truly are.  

Some relationships in my life gift patience, because they build it in me, every time our paths cross.

When I give gifts, I give my best.  I take time to fit each gift to the person, I package it with care, so the recipient feels special.  If I am meant to be given out, I want my life to communicate the same. When someone spends time with me, I want them to feel as though they are unwrapping an unexpected treasure, I want them to wonder what God, the Giver has in store and to be delighted at the revealing.  I want to be used to gift many---and be exactly what they need at the moment.

I want my life to accomplish the wish of the Giver, and to bestow honor on the one He chooses.

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Photo credit: Leonardo Wong on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@nardoleo

A Different Way of Seeing

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Today, I was offered a fresh page in a relationship.  Imagine an ivory piece of stationery with nothing written on it.  Pure, crisp, clean.  

Imagine a favorite shirt coming out of the dryer, and it's warmth on your skin as you breathe deeply and smell spring left by a dryer sheet.

Imagine grace washing over you like a waterfall; water that is just right in temperature; as it cascades over your head, and you stand under the water for a long time, letting its hydration wash away pain, scrub away past mistakes.

Today was like that.

Relationships are tricky.  What I've learned? is that when friendships hurt--it is because I have something inside of me wrong or twisted, that fails to trust the good intentions of the one I'm relating to.

When I am insulted, it is because my friend has touched an insecurity.

When I am wounded, it's often because my friend has spoken truth, but it's truth I haven't told myself yet.

When I am incensed, I am often responding to a trigger, losing sight of the face and heart right in front of me, forgetting who they are to me, and all the acts of friendship which have preceded that moment.

When I feel controlled, I am deeply afraid and anxious---because what would life be like if I were not in control?

I'm not saying pain is not real.  I'm not saying others don't sin against us.  

But I find that when I clean up my heart?  There is less to hurt.  

If you knew the story? You'd know, I didn't deserve another chance.  

I'm glad my friend decided to try again anyway.

Tribute to a Fellow Sojourner

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Marco came into my life when I needed him most.  Life’s like that sometimes.  I had just landed my first teaching job.  In. the. South. Bronx.

It was where I wanted to be, and it was every bit as tough as you can imagine, and then some.  I rarely tell my teaching stories from those days, because they are conversation stoppers.  They can’t be topped, and it can make listeners feel like they can never complain again. 

Marco was a Teach for America chap and the technology teacher in a school known as the worst school in the worst district in all of New York City.  I taught second grade, though I learned more about people, teaching and life in those years than I was capable of imparting.

Somewhere during that year, Marco and I realized that we both lived in Queens and so began a year of commuting home each night together.

My Ford Escort, which I had driven across country hadn’t given out on me yet, so Marco would catch a ride home---and we would begin our arguments.

Our arguments were great fun.  We used logic and scripture and life experience.  Often, we would jump into an AOL chatroom when we got home, and continue the debate for another hour from our separate apartments.  The internet was brand new and our arguments awoken something in both of us.  Marco would say it was a spiritual awakening for him, but for me, it was the kind of intellectual challenge I had in Bible College, debating fellow classmates on the finer points of theology, while Brother Ken, our dean and hero, sat back and chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the struggle of watching caterpillars push against the chrysalis. 

Marco was an agnostic, and I a Christian.  I would share the gospel with him and he would try to convince me of his points.  In the in-between times we lived life, teaching and containing our charges. 

One of my best memories of Marco is the time he and I and, Bernard (the art teacher) took one of my kids to a Yankees game.  Lamont was an angry little guy, and one in need of great love.  I hope my student still remembers how 3 of his teachers took time, and chose HIM to hang out with at a Bronx Bombers game.  I hope he remembers how much we liked him, and how much hope we had for him.

It would take much longer than I can write here to say who Marco was, and what he meant to me.  His friendship brought life to me in the midst of the hardest job I’ll ever have.  He was a fellow warrior in a wasteland, the kind of comrade who understands your battle scars, because he bears his own.  But if he were here?  He’d tell me that’s corny, and to stop being so dramatic.  That he was just an asshole like everybody else.  And then we’d laugh and eat salted mangoes, and make each other watch thought-provoking movies and argue about their meaning.

Deep met deep that year and the year which followed, and today I miss Marco’s deepness.  There are friendships which you cultivate and tend to and hope to God they’ll eventually bear fruit.  And there are others you just fall into, and which meet deep places in your soul you never  knew even existed inside. 

Today I honor Marco Polo Villegas, and today I'm grateful to God for the friendships He has surprised me with and sustained me with when I've been oh so thirsty.  

How to Be with a Suicidal Friend

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I've been truly suicidal twice in my life.  But I've lived with clinical depression most of my adult life.

I was a happy, healthy, well-adjusted kid.  Just ask my parents.  Somewhere around age 30, I got hit with a whole wheelbarrow of emotions, and the tendency to cry when absolutely nothing was wrong.  And it's never left.  This post is not about that.  But you can read about it here.

The first time I was in a place where I could have truly committed the act? It came on suddenly. You NEVER hear that.  There's this idea out there that people who kill themselves have been in the throes of depression (secretly or openly).  I'm here to tell you, THAT is not my experience. I was NOT in a season of melancholy leading up to this night.  I was with friends, and had a moment of feeling acute rejection---which was not detectable to them.  It was a thought which grew into a big, black cloud in a matter of hours.  By the time 2 of them had dropped me off at my apartment, I was swirling in deep, black darkness.  It's tough to even describe, but as surely as I've felt the presence of God----that night the presence of evil wrapped itself around me like the worst kind of blanket, and slowly began to suck the life out of me. 

I was absolutely despondent and filled with a deep sense of hopelessness.  More than anything, I wanted to go and jump in front of the E train which was a few blocks away.  Only sheer exhaustion kept me from doing it.

I'm not going to pretend my experience is the same as everyone else's.  But, besides that night---my first 2 years back in the Northwest?  I prayed every day for God to kill me---or to let me go home, to heaven.  And I entertained suicidal ideation for years---as a way of escape, any time life got tough and for a long time after New York?  Life was always tough.  I've been around the block a few times on the suicide thing.

So here's my best advice on what to say, and NOT to say.

1.  Offer absolute acceptance and love and not one shred of judgment.

If your friend has told you they are suicidal, they are handing you a huge gift of trust.  In the two times I was suicidal---I could not tell a soul.  In fact for me, one of the things which has to be present for me to truly be capable of the act---is I have to feel cut off from my main support system.  Something has gotten in the way of those closest friendships or I wouldn't feel what I feel.

2.  Don't give advice.

The sheer level of grief a suicidal person is experiencing is life draining.  They are exhausted. Having to listen to someone go on and on about how they overcame something or having to hear a person talk down to them (no matter your intentions, this is how it will come across) while pretending to be grateful will drain them further, and make them feel more like a loser.

3.  Listen, listen, listen

Find out what has been happening in their life.  What brought them to this place?   What would give them hope?  What do they feel like they need right now to make life worth living? What are they angry about?  How can you best support them in this time?

4.  Know that talking about suicide is not going to make them more likely to commit it.

If they have opened the door and invited you in, telling you they want to die---they need to talk about it.  They want to talk about it.  Find out how long they have been thinking about it. Find out how they intend to carry it out.  (If they have a plan on how to end their life, stay with them until you feel they are out of danger, or until someone else can be there, especially if they have the means at their disposal to do it.)

5. Help them discover why they want to kill themselves.

In most of my suicide ideation? I am hurt by someone close to me and want revenge.  I want to take my anger out on myself so that whomever I'm mad at will be sad and I'll get even. Sometimes, though---it's just an escape---the same as a movie might be.  Having a "way out" can provide comfort when the pain is sharp.

Some people kill themselves over despair over their future, feeling trapped in an oppressive work environment or relationship.  Some people panic when big world events happen like the stock market crashes. There will always be an element of hopelessness in a suicidal person. The key is finding out what is making them feel that way.  

After you've helped someone figure out why they want to die, gently lead them to alternatives which might accomplish their true goal.  So, for me?  Reminding me of how the person I'm angry with has shown me love would help.  Or reminding me of upcoming events I want to be present for might help.

6. Be real

The two things which made me stop even thinking about suicide are these:

1-I read about all the attempts gone bad.  The internet is full of stories of individuals who tried to kill themselves and the aftermath they now live in.  Turns out?  It's not that easy to do.  And people mess it up ALL THE TIME.  And live maimed the rest of their life.  Scary stuff.

2-It's a hard question theologically.  And not one I suggest you broach with certainty.  But I've come to the personal conclusion that suicide is murder.  And unrepented murder.  I don't want to take a chance on eternity with that on my record.  Scary stuff.

Yes, I would talk to suicidal people about these two things.  It might be the only thing which saves their life.  They might get mad.  But mad energizes.  And energy is good.

7.  Do not take the stance that the person "just wants attention."  

First of all, SO WHAT IF THEY DO?  I have no problem giving the homeless money EVEN if I know they'll use it to drink---because Damn it, if anyone has a right to drink---it's someone with no home!!!! (Most people drink for much less!) If someone is in despair enough to outright ask for attention by saying the "S" word-----WHY WITHHOLD IT?  

Second, being suicidal invites shame.  It is a TOUGH thing to admit out loud even to those close.  People don't throw that word around lightly.  If a person admits to feeling this way, and you have any ounce of love for them (or humanity) take it seriously.  Smother them with love. Where did we ever get this idea that giving someone what they are asking for LOUDLY is less worthy than giving it to them just because???? (Yes, this attitude makes me absolutely crazy.)

Third, most suicidal people are not just wanting attention.  If they are talking about it, then they are thinking seriously about it, and are in deep pain.

8. Keep treating them normal.

After the crisis has passed, be normal.  Don't walk on eggshells around them.  Check in on them, but don't tiptoe.  Ask them for favors.  Make them feel needed.  Tell them your problems. Maybe not the next day, but let them know you still see them as a whole, sane, wonderful person that you love, want in your life, and even need.

Sooner or later, we all encounter people in crisis.  Sooner or later, we all are the person in crisis. We all need one another, and we can all be the friend that comes alongside.

If you're ever feeling suicidal, message me or call me.  

Here's another option I've used from time to time:

http://www.samaritans.org/

Be well, friends.

To Tame the Tongue

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If you're like me? You've noticed that God puts certain relationships in your life, in order to challenge you.

I have a few such relationships right now, and one of the things I have learned is just how carnal I can be, given the right triggers and stressors.  Growing up, I always had pretty peaceful and longstanding friendships.  People referred to me as "mature for her age."  Few would say that of me now.  Perhaps when I was younger, I was just untested.  That is definitely not true of my life now!

For as smart as people seem to think I am?  I can be really dense around my blind spots.  For me to see some things, God has had to use a 3-step process.  Lecture, Seminar, and Lab. Lecture usually involves one of my pastors talking to me about a character defect that's come up.  (They should get hazard pay for this part of their jobs.)  I typically don't believe them and make them prove it, with examples.  (Seminar).  I open myself up to the possibility that they might be right, but I really can't totally see it or wrap my head around it enough to address it.  

Sooner or later, but usually later God brings a circumstance into my life to illustrate the concept one of my pastors has confronted me on.  And by circumstance, I mean relationship. He puts someone in my path to do the exact thing that I am doing that drives other people batty.  AND THEN I GET IT.

So----here's a recent one.  Sometimes, when I'm angry? I have tried to cover it up with more "professional" and/or "Christian" responses.  I have hidden my true emotions even from myself and tried to respond well.  Not a bad thing, right?

Except, when someone recently did this with me, in the exact way I've done it with others, I realized that really?  It was passive aggressiveness at it's finest.  It was so passive aggressive that it was airtight, and couldn't be pointed to as passive aggressiveness.  And so perfectly executed that I didn't even see my own motives behind it.  Or the anger it was masking.

Which brings us to the tongue and the heart.  I used to think that it was possible to hide my true heart.  That if I was struggling with an attitude, it wouldn't be detected, if I just said the right things.  Or that if I responded professionally and not given to emotion---that my anger or bitterness, or frustration wouldn't come across.

It's so not true.  My true heart, my real feelings are clearly seen.  I have learned that my heart will not lie.  I may try and spin my words-----but my true heart, my true motives, my true feelings and intentions----will always be brought to light.  Via my words, my inflections, my body language, my tone, my silence.  Somehow, some way---the heart doesn't lie.

So, rather than trying to fix things at the level of my tongue?  Things can only be fixed at the level of my heart.  I've decided to stop worrying so much about what I say.  Because even if I try to tame the tongue-----out of the abundance of the heart, my mouth will speak.  If I want to not offend with my mouth----I have to go after the root issues of the heart.  And let change begin there.