Chuck It

 

This is Chuck the bathroom spider, or someone who looks very much like him. 

2019.

We made it. 

It might not seem like much but, for a Gen-X’er who never thought they would live through the 80’s because of the threat of imminent nuclear disaster, it’s pretty impressive. When you factor in that I was educated by some of the finest politically correct, environmentally enlightened, cannabis cultivating teachers Vancouver Island could afford, it’s a total miracle.  Actually, while we are at it, we should blame David Suzuki too.  A half a century of “The Nature of Things” could effect anyone's vision of the future.  Especially in the old days, before they started to offer a side of hope alongside the latest environmental crisis facing the planet.  And no, you can’t get cross at me for saying that, despite our love for the man.  My sister waited on him once in Granville Island and we darn near thought we had come in contact with royalty.  However, even you have to admit there were days when you wished you skipped the show simply because you could not handle the sense of doom it sometimes afforded.  Those were the days. 

However, despite the ambiance of existential nihilism, the future I didn’t imagine wasn’t quite as ridiculous at my current reality. I expected the New Year to ring in some sanity, it didn’t turn out that way.  I’ve been spending a significant amount of time with teenagers lately.  If sanity is your objective, that is a bad plan.  Something about an incomplete brain and a complete vocabulary make teens refreshingly and boldly insane.   The tone for the month of January was set when my eldest was baking and the oven blew up in a shower of sparks.  It has continued as I have been prepping kids to compete in a speech tournament at the end of the month.  Editing sentences such as, “It takes roughly 1000 years for a single water to break down and none of us have even lived that long” will do something to your soul.  The "something" isn’t good in case I didn’t make that clear.  This morning when I was told that Chuck, the resident bathroom spider had broken his contract with my daughter, I set aside prayer time to ask the Lord to show me what I was doing wrong. 

Chuck is a spider who lives in my daughter’s bathroom.  She doesn’t like spiders as a rule, but something about erasing Chuck from the planet for being a spider seemed wrong.  They both agreed that if Chuck stuck to his corner of the bathroom, he could continue to exist.  A high handed approach to be sure, but they have lived at peace with this arrangement for some months now.  When Chuck disappeared a couple weeks ago, my girl became concerned.  Not for his life you understand, she isn’t that attached, no she was concerned that he had broken his agreement and had relocated to her bedroom.  Which is exactly what Chuck had done, being the dishonorable spider he is.  Chuck was seen this morning running at high speed across her bed.  Normally this behavior on behalf of a spider would cause my daughter to start screaming in fear but when she realized it was in fact Chuck sprinting across her duvet she got angry.  Scooping Chuck up she marched into the bathroom and dumped him back in his corner.  She explained the agreement once more and left him to consider his actions, which he probably didn’t because he is a spider. 

Every morning, my kids gather to collect a cup of tea, read and chat before their day begins.  When my daughter recounted her morning’s interactions with Chuck, I asked her why she didn’t dump Chuck outside when she finally had the nerve to catch him.  She looked at me blankly and said nothing.  I stared back.  It was then I realized Chuck had become her friend.  She had become so used to her uncomfortable relationship with the arachnid she didn’t get rid of him when she had the chance. 

Let the analogies begin.

Going into this New Year my friend I just thought I’d ask, do you have any uncomfortable relationships or habits that might be worth getting rid of?  Anything you used to be scared of, that has now turned into an uneasy alliance?  Do you need an example or two? Have you turned a blind eye to your wife’s shopping habits, constrained a discontent heart with a budget instead of having a difficult conversation?  Is your teen exhibiting some goofy behavior you are ignoring, hoping it will magically disappear instead of handing out real life consequences? Such alliances are taxing on both the sanity and the soul my friend and rarely worth the investment.

So I’m praying for both of us that we will face the New Year with confidence.  If there are any corners where uneasiness lies, that we will be willing to clean house and embrace the freedom God affords.

Give your teen(s) a hug.

Be patient with them.  They are not finished yet.

xoxKaren

Taking 2019 By Storm

I still remember the afternoon we met the specialist at the hospital.  The words she used were terrifying, phrases like “blood incompatibility and potential harm” rolled off her tongue with an ease that made me cringe.  My life was about to change and I wasn’t aware I was going in for more than a check-up.  During that hour long visit, I learned about a crisis I didn’t understand, heard a language I didn’t speak and met a list of characters I didn’t know existed.  That would have been fine but it was my crisis, my life and my future we were discussing.  I remember holding my husband’s hand tightly and trying to breathe and crying: I remember a lot of crying.

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The morning was grey, cold and gusty.  The wind was picking up and the forecast was calling for a storm to hit.  For many people, that means an afternoon indoors, but for a certain few it means bundling up and heading to the water for a walk.  My Dad taught me that there are gems to be seen during storms which are not visible at any other time: be it an eagle or a seal riding their respective currents, storms are for catching sight of treasure. Consequently, I called for a family outing as the winds started. My family hustled to get ready and out the door we went.  Which is how twenty minutes later I found myself in inclement weather with a handful of the Pacific Northwest’s finest.

I love the sight of those who come out in storms.  I enjoy smiling at those who walk by, hunched over by the wind, rain stinging our faces as we peer out to give each other a knowing smile: “Yep. We are amazing, this is the best.”  But something else entirely takes over when I see those who have come out with the sole intention to play in a storm.   My gut reaction is a primal thrill that makes me want to scream for joy.  Our area is replete with outdoor enthusiasts and if you are lucky, you can watch such a person display their mastery, the bad weather enhancing rather than weakening their performance.  Their ability to manage the increased pressures in their environment allows them to reach heights in their sport that cannot be attained in regular weather. 

The wind blowing off the water was icy and hit the van head on we entered the parking lot.  Looking to the water, I spotted a lone parachute, the insane person attached to the contraption not yet visible. I ran toward the water, my family following behind.  There beyond the pylons, were two brave souls: a kite boarder and windsurfer hurling over the slate grey seas.  I was overjoyed.  We watched them for quite a while, skipping off waves and leaping in the air on their boards, as our extremities cooled and our ears began to ache.  The windsurfer hurled into shore for a few moments before heading back out again.  My children watched overjoyed at the sight.  They claimed the weather was “perfect” as they stood on shore in rapt admiration.

We marched down the board walk in an attempt to stop hypothermia from taking hold.  Cormorants, scoters and gulls dove and played in the waves as we strolled by admiring their buoyancy and fishing abilities.  Walking down the pier we observed old men tend their crab pots as the waters below the dock churned.  We held our course until our youngest declared she was turning numb and headed back toward the beach.  Managing the cold for about ninety minutes I’d call it a successful blustery outing.

Climbing back into the van, I was thinking about storms.  You can’t go through a trial in Christendom without running headlong into a storm metaphor somewhere in your experience.  Whether you look online or in print, you will find parallels drawn between periods of suffering and the weathering of storms. I find such teachings deeply comforting.  Many liken storms to testing, a process wherein God refines your character as you experience circumstances beyond human control.  To survive a storm there seems to be an essential component of surrender, a place wherein those suffering accept the inconvenience and pain of their circumstance, in order endure the time allotted to their suffering. Sadly that would not be me.  My first reaction is to protest and feel persecuted.  It isn't natural for me to don a positive attitude or to metaphorically hop on a board, grab a parachute and find anything enjoyable about my winds of misfortune.  I’d rather whimper.

But what is a person to do, when providence has decided that you will remain in a storm until the terror in your heart subsides?  What if the purpose of your storm is to build a testimony for others: a testimony of overcoming and the faithfulness of God?  Well, I can tell you quite honestly that is the space where many a bad attitude has been born and has died.  Yes, I am speaking from experience.  If you are like me (and I pray that you aren’t) you are more interested in getting out of the storm than staying in it.  Be darned if you are in the surf beside me!  Go on YouTube and find your own sermon, I’m trying to tread water without drowning.

Of course dear friend, this is not the purpose of our storms.  The purpose of storms is that we, by God’s grace, overcome them and provide comfort for others who come after us.  This is how testimonies and ministries are born.  If someone is facing a cancer diagnosis, the first person they will call is one who has been through the trial in order to gain wisdom and insight.  It’s hard to minister to a friend if you are curled up in the fetal position under your bed.  Yet this is where I’m inclined to want to stay when storms strike, nursing my own hurts and wounds. 

Our children declared that only hot chocolate could warm their frozen bodies and so we stopped inside a grocery store equipped with a beverage stand.  My husband went off to hunt lunch in the isles while I ordered drinks.  I sighed, musing on storms, wind surfers and whether or not I would ever manage to endure my trial with grace and patience.  It was then (without a word of a lie) I saw the barista look up at the ceiling and say to another customer, “Yes, he came in here about an hour ago.  Maybe it was to get out of the weather.”  I looked up.

There in the rafters, was this fellow.  He’s a hawk in case you can’t tell and no, he isn’t made for the indoors, regardless of the rough weather outside. Looks wrong doesn’t it?  I was immediately taken with thoughts for his survival, “Hey sir, you need to get out of here.  This is no place for you.” Though I cannot say that God spoke to me directly, it did make me think that I was being given an illustrated example of why God’s people must resist the temptation to lie down and give up when confronted by adversity.  I suspect it is because we were made by God to overcome it. 

So as we move again into a new year, my thoughts are with you dear friend.  The coming year is bound to hold victories and defeats for all as well as a storm or two.  My prayer starting with myself is that despite the pain and suffering we will be able to withstand trials with by the grace he provides.  By loving the Lord with all our heart, mind and strength we might decide to learn in our adversity knowing that there is great value in pain and much to be learned in times of adversity.  I pray that we would grow brave not faint and that God would deliver us from our fears.

The crying stopped eventually.  As I was welcomed and knit into my corner of the medical community, I learned that my trial was not impossible but lonely, scary and occasionally painful.  Despite my unhappiness, those adverse experiences did not kill me and I grew less fearful.  Then one day, the season of trial left as suddenly as it came.  When a couple years later, a friend happened upon a similar experience, I was able to provide the support and hope she needed to endure.  I could speak to her fear and failings as not one else could.  I could even crack a joke now and then that would have her laughing.  Over the years, I have sought out those who struggle the same way I did.  It might not be as brave as strapping a board on my feet and grabbing a parachute, but its pretty close.

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Happy New Year Dear Friend,

xox Karen

 

PS.  Hawk got out.  Daughter went back today to find that one of the young men managed to persuade/chase the little fellow back outdoors.  

The Classic Christmas Card

A Classic Christmas Card
Thank you Friend.

I can’t remember when traditional Christmas Cards went out of fashion.  I’d say it was about 20 years ago but I can’t be sure because at that time my family left the backwoods of Canada and ventured to a major US city.  So I’m unclear if Christmas cards disappeared or if somewhere in the country people still exchange real Christmas cards replete with stars, the city of David and the odd camel caravan.  In my world however, they were swallowed by the box retailers’ tradition of sending cards composed of a collage of family pictures accompanied by a seasonal greeting.  I’m courting trouble writing this, because many of my friends send these types of family cards and there is no way to say this without it being uncomfortable.  I don’t prefer this type of Christmas card.  It isn’t that I don’t like you, please understand, but your card makes me feel…peculiar.  I would put you in my living room except that I don’t want you staring at me from your timeshare in the Bahamas as I walk through my living room in my pajamas with my hair all skookum. It’s awkward for both of us. Likewise I would put you on my fridge but frankly the sight of you in your swimsuit at the beach kind of vexes me and makes rooting in the fridge for snacks a lot less enjoyable.  I appreciate your dog is still alive but frankly I’m still surprised how much money you spent on the little beggar in the first place and I suspect he gets his hair done more than I do and I fear if we discuss these things we are going hit ground I don’t think our relationship can hold.  You can see how these new cards drag my mind to the present and focus my minimal attention upon the appearance of others’ lives.  It’s difficult territory for me.

The snail mail cards of long ago were marvelous; I have fond memories of those cards.  It was a time when glitter was merely an accent, saved for the Bethlehem star or the glow of the remarkably clean, if not sparkling, Christ Child.  Kings on camels proceeded toward a tiny city nestled in the sand dunes that brought to mind the story of Christmas. Many of them had a scripture verse inscribed in the corner.  In fact, if you were clever and up on your bible, you could guess what scripture the card would contain by the picture on the front. Yet all of them possessed a photo declaration of a time long ago, when something remarkable took place.

Once in royal David’s city,

Stood a lowly cattle shed,

Where a mother laid her Baby,

In a manger for His bed:

Mary was that mother mild,

Jesus Christ, her little Child.

He came down to earth from heaven,

Who is God and Lord of all,

And His shelter was a stable,

And His cradle was a stall:

With the poor, and mean, and lowly,

Lived on earth our Saviour holy.

The marvelous thing about the story of Jesus birth is that it holds such hope for us today.

I’m unclear at what age innocence dies, though I suspect it has much to do with what a person is called to bear.  Clearer in my mind, is the fact that almost everyone I know above the age of 35 starts to understand that the season of Christmas, as portrayed by family cards, is difficult to navigate.  Looking at the photos of smiling people on holiday has little to do with the brokenness in many lives.  I was recently sobbing on the phone to a friend that I had no desire to walk where the Lord was leading me.  Despite all my prayers, planning and industry, brokenness was heading for me like a wave and I found myself unable to make any sense of life. In this season of goodwill and celebration, grief and heartache are an unwelcome reality.  How do you make a Christmas card out of that?  Imagine for a moment, your hearts deepest burden and then add to it a picture of you grappling with its worst consequences.  Now, come with me a moment longer and construct a glossy Christmas card of that moment.  What seasonal greeting would grace that photo, dear friend?

Yet the story of Jesus is in that exact vein.  A young couple pregnant out of wedlock, holed up in a stable, no healthcare provider or midwife.  In a town where she certainly has relations no one has shown up to tend to her as she faces the birth of her first child.  She looks exhausted and he looks uncertain, even frightened perhaps.  A baby without proper covering, in unsanitary conditions lying in a filthy box and across this historic card in 16 point red font the words, “Immanuel: God With Us!” 

What on earth was God thinking?

He was thinking of us.  The “us” without the fancy family card, without our best foot forward.  For God he seems to have strange standards, but not if you understand he was thinking of the brokenness that gripped humanity and how he would condescend to enter into relationship with us.   His means of celebration is unconventional much like his Christmas card.  A back water town, a hovel of a birth place, humble beginnings doesn’t begin to describe the lowliness of his arrival.  Announce your coming to the dregs of humanity; proclaim hope to the hopeless and a means of salvation to those who know they are lost.  His love for those who are nothing means he turned the whole pecking order upside down. If you are withdrawn from society and your family doesn’t visit, God wants to spend Christmas with you.  If your closest friend has turned against you and you no longer have traditions that used to be precious to your heart, God has hope for your heartache.  If this Christmas finds you without your beloved and all you want to do is curl up and sleep until spring, there is one who wants to share your grief.  The coming of Jesus means that there is hope for your despair, comfort for your affliction and restoration for brokenness.

It’s quite the Christmas card, this picture of Jesus’ arrival.

So I’m praying this week, that we might spend some time with the story of Christmas.  That as society tells you to spend more to acquire a perfect Christmas, you might remember that Christmas is, at the very core, for those whose Christmas is painful, lonely and sad.  And that no amount of Christmas card fantasy can drown out the truth of hope that is offered to those who desire to meet him.

xoxKaren