Failure vs. Victory

In a couple of my blog posts from August (The God Bank and My Conversation with God), I mentioned some recent challenges I've been having in my relationship with God.  There's some confusion there, some doubts, and even something that feels a little like anger. And along with these thoughts and feelings, I've also been dealing with the suggestion that I've failed; failed in my faith, in my religion, in my connection with God. I ask myself, Why don't I have more faith? Why do I sometimes wonder where God is? Why can't I fix these problems using my religion? It's hard feeling like I'm failing time and time again, first because of the challenges I've stumbled into, and second, because I have some potential solutions in front of me and still can't seem to get results. However, instead of seeing these as failures, maybe there's another way to look at what's happening. 

A few months ago, I was listening to a radio show on faith and victory. The speaker, Channing Walker,  was talking about Jesus and how we can have faith in his teachings. He was also talking about Peter, when he was in a boat with the other disciples when the wind and waves started causing the boat to thrash about.  The disciples called for help, and so Jesus walked on the water and quieted the storm. Peter, seeing Jesus walking on the water, went out to join him. 

"And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me" (Matthew 14:29-30). 

At this point, we can think any number of things of Peter : Was he brave? Was he a coward? Why did he want to join Jesus on the water? Why did he doubt? 

What Channing Walker suggested was that Peter's actions signified more of a victory than a failure. He showed faith and courage when he stepped out of the boat, so much so that he was able to walk on water. Yes, he started sinking when he looked at the waves and the wind and all that was going on around him, but he made that first step of faith. He did something that the other disciples did not even attempt, and in that moment he was victorious. Can you even imagine how much faith it must have taken to be able to walk on water, even for just a couple of seconds? 

I feel that many times, God wants us to try; even if we're scared, even if we don't know what the outcome will be, we can still TRY. And because Jesus reached out his hand when Peter started sinking, we can expect  the same kind of support when we need it. God is love, and He responds to our needs with love. 

When I feel a lack of faith or trust in God, I find it extremely helpful to think about Peter's experience. I also think about moments in my own walk with God, times when I trusted Him and trusted what He was doing in my life, no matter how daunting the waves and the storm seemed to be at the time. And each time, God was there, reaching out His hand to keep me from sinking. 

"He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters" (2 Samuel 22:17).

And in these times of doubt, I try to see each step forward as victorious. Even if they are small, mere baby steps. Even if it's 1 step forward, 2 steps backward. Even if I sink a little bit before calling out to God to save me. And these are all still victories... because I'm trying. I'm not just sitting in the boat, looking at the waves and giving up. I'm trying to get closer to Jesus, trying to walk out to him. To me, any step that gets me closer to God, anything that moves me forward, is not failing. 

Truth and lies - Being mistaken for Russian

When I worked at the college a few years ago, one of my fellow teachers asked me if I spoke Russian. I answered, "No, I speak Spanish," thinking that she simply mistook the 2 languages when we were learning about each other's educational backgrounds. 

Some time later, she asked me why I didn't speak Russian. I looked at her a bit funny, and told her that I decided to study Spanish instead. She then asked, "Why didn't your parents make sure you learned Russian? Didn't you speak it in the house growing up?" I looked at her even more strangely, and told her my parents didn't speak any other languages; they were born in the United States, their parents were born in the United States, and past that... Well, Norway and Wales. Not Russia. 

She started laughing. "Oh! I've always thought you were Russian. You LOOK Russian. I just assumed. I couldn't understand why you didn't SPEAK Russian." Needless to say, I started laughing as well, and 6 years later, we still laugh about that story. 

This story reminds me of the times that I get stuck. Sometimes I assume something to be true, or I get so caught up in a lie, that it affects my own grasp of what is real and true and based in reality. Whether it's a lie about myself that I've been told or that I have come up with on my own, or a misguided opinion about someone else that affects the way I think about them or treat them, or something that I just tell myself is true without checking the facts to be true (like ice cream is good for me because it contains calcium)... These are not truths, but when we take them as true, they affect our thoughts and behaviours.

I had a couple of teachers in high school who helped me deal with some issues I was having outside of school.  And both of them stood up to the lies I was facing in my life. One teacher told me, "That isn't right. That's not ok." What I'd gotten used to as normal actually wasn't normal. He helped me take another look at my skewed view of an aspect of my life, and see it for what it really was, the reality of the situation. The other teacher kept telling me, "You gotta call a spade a spade." She was very clear about not twisting the truth of the matter. Just grab it, the truth or the reality or the facts, and call it like I see it. Both of these people were amazingly helpful as I was navigating this particular aspect of my life. 

Now, when I get caught up in negative self-talk, or a particularly tempting lie about myself or someone else, or a lie or bit of ignorance about God, it's helpful to remember the experience with my friend. I recall the certainty she seemed to feel about my Russian heritage, without even knowing the facts. I also clearly remember her disdain, condescension even, that my parents had let the Russian language slip through my language study and acquisition. She had created this whole story about me that was not based in truth at all. But once she discovered the truth, the lie seemed so funny, so ridiculous, and she was able to see that it had no foundation. 

I hope that as I continue on my journey to discover the truth, about myself, the people around me, but most importantly, about God, that I will strive to believe things that are secure, sitting on a strong foundation. Everything else is just smoke and mirrors, a blatant lie, and at best, a comical misunderstanding. Instead, I want to have a foundation that has no fallacies; one that is strong and steady, and based on the true ideas that I can see reflected all around me. If I fill up with good, with truth, there will be no room for anything else. 

The God Bank - When God doesn't seem to return your calls

Lately I've been feeling like God hasn't been returning my calls. I need help, I reach out to Him, and it seems I am just getting His answering machine again and again. I don't understand what's going on. (Maybe He texts these days and doesn't take personal calls?? Maybe He uses Skype?) It's frustrating, and sometimes I feel like He has abandoned me. I feel like David when he says, "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me for ever? How long will you hide your face from me?" (Ps. 13:1). Where is He sometimes??!

It's not like I need Him to answer "Yes" to every question I ask Him. I don't want to be a spoiled kid who gets everything I ask for; mainly because God is smarter than I am and I trust His judgment and His course of action. I know that everything is in His control and that He has knowledge about things that I don't, and couldn't, have. That's okay. The problem I'm having is when He doesn't seem to answer at all. I ask Him questions, and He just doesn't answer, not in the affirmative or in the negative. It's hard to feel like He just doesn't have time to give me an answer. It's hard to feel like he He created me, put me in the world, country, city, family, job, house, situation that I am in, and then just left me to figure things out on my own. If He is indeed my Father, that would make me His daughter, and sometimes children have questions that they need their parents to answer! I feel like saying sometimes, "Don't just leave me hanging here! I know You know the answer! I know You could put my mind at ease in half a second!"

But I obviously don't know all the answers, and thus, I don't know why it sometimes seems like He's distant. He's probably not; I'm guessing it's just my perception or just the fact that I am distancing myself from Him, not the other way around. I just don't know.

During these times of frustration or seeming distance from God, I find it helpful to remember the instances in my life where God felt really present... Times where I could feel Him next to me, in the same room, closer than my breath. And I've saved these moments in a special file in my brain, to recall when I need them the most. This file is my "God Bank." I save up these God-filled moments for a rainy day, for when I really need that extra encouragement, that extra sense of His presence. When I feel lost or sad or hopeless and can't seem to get an answer from God, I go to the God Bank and make a withdrawal. Sometimes I even take out more than I actually have in the bank; but the good thing about the God Bank is that there are no overdraft fees. I am not going to get penalized for taking out a little extra faith or hope that I need to get through the day. Sometimes, on the particularly frustrating days, I feel like my relationship with God can be summed up with the following statement: "Fake it 'til you make it." Sometimes I just don't have the faith that I think I should have, or that I know I would have if things were just a little bit easier. But again, knowing that I don't know everything, I put the trust that I do have in God on the table, and fake the rest of it until it's there in earnest.

I can't count the number of times I've been given a great sum of God money that I then go and deposit at the God Bank. There have been so many days in my life, decades' worth of days, where I have been a millionaire - - heck, a billionaire, a gazillionaire - - with God currency. These were the days when I really felt God was there, protecting me, loving me, hanging out with me like a friend. These have been the great "paydays" of my life.

I have been so blessed... I think about the day my little sister was born. My family. The day I met my Persian friends. The day I started working at Hopelink and the shower of blessings that that connection brought to my life, in terms of people and friendships and experiences. Vinnie. My wonderful, amazing, funny, adorable, life-changing friends. The days when I feel really low, and suddenly get 3 unexpected phone calls from friends, a card in the mail, and a package on my doorstep. THIS IS NOT JUST A COINCIDENCE. This is God. This is God's presence and love and protection in my life. The teachers in my life that have been my mentors, my support system, my friends. My church, and the churches that I visit from time to time. The people in those churches. Nature. Animals. Clouds. Sunsets and sunrises. Ice cream. A friend's laughter. The days I suddenly feel a sense of comfort and peace that can only be explained by God's presence. These are the big paydays, and I am so grateful to be able to tuck these experiences away and be able to access them whenever I want to.

No accidents

Four years ago, I had an amazing experience. It was the only time in my life where I'd ever thought, for an instant, that I was going to die right then. And the intense joy that I felt when I realized I was still alive was pretty magical.

I was driving to Canada to spend a 4-day weekend with my friend for her birthday. I took a couple of days off of work because, in a sense, this birthday seemed important. Her mom had just passed away a few months earlier; this was the first birthday she would be celebrating without her mom there. Thus, we weren't really going to "celebrate," but rather just have some quality time together.

Even though it was August, we were experiencing a downpour. As much as I think Seattle drivers should be used to the rain, it was still backing up traffic and causing some pretty precarious situations on the road.

As I was driving, I suddenly saw brake lights in front of me, a lot closer than was comfortable with. I quickly slammed on my brakes and was quite relieved when I stopped a foot or two behind the car in front of me. Out of habit, I checked my review mirror, only to see a silver Ford F-350 careening towards me, showing no sign of slowing down. My hands grasped the wheel and I braced myself for the impact.

The next thing I heard was a horrible scrunching sound as the truck crashed into the trunk of my car, and I felt myself lurching forward, still in my seat but suddenly out of control. My car, a much smaller Toyota Camry, jolted forward at such an alarming speed that all I could think of was, "This is it. I think I am going to die." 

What happened next was amazing. I still can't explain it, except that it makes me think that God was totally present and guiding my car. All I remember was that I hung on to the steering wheel as my body thrashed around inside the thrown car from the impact. When my car finally stopped moving, I was 3 lanes over, slammed up against the cement barrier of I-5, facing the opposite direction than I had been 10 seconds earlier. I was thankfully over on the shoulder of the freeway, out of on-coming traffic and out of harm's way.

As soon as my car shuddered to a stop, I jumped out. I was a little disoriented, but at that second, I was so, soooo incredibly happy. I was alive! I have no idea what happened, or how my car didn't hit another car as it somehow wove its way through 3 additional lanes of rush-hour traffic, but somehow it didn't and somehow I was alive. A sense of pure joy washed over me as I walked a few steps, paying special attention to the amazing, “being”, living existence of my legs and the feel of the pavement below my feet. My back seemed a bit twisted and out of whack, and there was some tension in my neck, but all in all I felt great. I was on "this side" of life and death.

I stopped my jumping around and looked at the F-350 that had gone through several more vehicles, hitting the car that had been in front of mine, and starting a chain reaction that didn't stop until 4 more cars had been damaged. I looked at all the other cars that were surrounding the mess; all stopped, all just seemingly waiting. I imagined the cars in the other lanes were stopped not because their drivers slammed on the brakes, but out of sympathy for a fellow car. My battered Camry sat dejectedly, beaten, on the side of the highway. I quickly walked to the back of my car and inspected the damage.

And only then did I remember the scrapbook. The beautiful piece of art, the detailed pages, the family pictures that were included... the surprise scrapbook that Ati had started to make for her daughter before she passed away. Before Ati passed, she asked me if I could help her with some of the pages; get some notes from her daughter's friends, collect pictures that could be included, etc. I had tried to do so and had made some progress, and the pages that I had finished, along with all of Ati's pages, were in a big container in my trunk. And when I walked back to the trunk, I saw that these things, these pieces of art from both Ati and the things I had put together, had been destroyed. My trunk had been completely smashed in. Actually, I didn't have a "trunk" to speak of anymore; the end of my car was now the backseat. The trunk had just disappeared. The scrapbook pages were now covered in Seattle rain, and in the pomegranate wine that I was bringing up to Canada. The bottle had been smashed into 1,000 pieces by the impact. My heart dropped.

But then, for a moment, I thought of Ati and how her scrapbook pages were in between the truck and myself. Obviously not a physical barrier, but more of a symbolic one. The scrapbook had been made with love, and I felt so much love in that moment. For Ati, from Ati, for my friend... And I really felt that Ati was with me right then. I was so grateful to be alive, and so grateful for God, and it was again an amazing, wonderful moment.

A few minutes later I called another friend, and when she heard what had happened, she said, with such conviction but also with such tenderness, "You are in God's pocket. You are right there, safe and protected." She quoted some scripture to me, and I felt such a sense of peace and security. We talked for a bit more, and I just kept feeling so grateful that I was alive and well. And I was so grateful for this friend, not only for her love that was embracing me over the phone, but also because she was able to give me a spiritual perspective on what had just happened. I felt so incredibly blessed, and so grateful that NO ONE, not me or the driver of the truck or the occupants of the other cars or anybody in the other lanes of I-5, had been seriously injured. We had all been protected, safe and secure.

When I finally arrived to Vancouver, B.C., that night (my friend and her father came to pick me up), I was again surrounded by such a feeling of love, from my friend and her father and from God. And later, when I sheepishly gave my friend her birthday card that had been splattered with wine and rain, she looked at it and smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

“I love this card,” she said as she took it from me. She hadn’t even opened it yet, but her smile remained. “This card is from you, and every time I look at it, I will be reminded that you are okay. I will keep it forever.”

I slept really well that night, thinking of God's protection, feeling the love from my family and friends, and knowing that this day had been such a gift in so many ways.

My conversation with God

I've been thinking about God a lot lately... We are at a bit of a rough patch in our relationship, and that's okay. Sometimes relationships go through rough patches. But while thinking about God and about His role in my life, I was reminded of an amazing experience I had in January of this year. I felt God's presence in my life in a way that I'd never felt Him before; it was like He was physically... THERE. So present. And recalling this experience, I felt so much love and gratitude for Him. It is an important recollection for me to have, as it shows me that He is there no matter how I feel sometimes.

In late January, I was driving up to Vancouver, B.C., to visit my Persian buddies. I had just sent a weird email to a couple of friends about some things I was going through, and was not too happy about my decision to send it. On top of that, I was feeling bad about some other things, and was berating myself over all these real and perceived mistakes I had made. Vinnie was in the backseat and, being a typical dog and being sensitive to my feelings, could tell that I was really upset. He kept pacing back and forth, whining in my ear, trying to give me a kiss to comfort me, and he just couldn't seem to get settled. What was interesting was that his inability to settle down was what I had been feeling since I returned from my trip to Ethiopia. I kept stumbling, kept trying to get my footing, and just couldn't seem to do so.

Then suddenly, amidst all the negative self-talk, I said, "Stop. You are amazing." But here's the wonderful/surreal/fascinating part: I felt it was God speaking. It came from my mouth but the words were not from me. I had been so distraught up until that moment, and in a second, it was replaced by love, gentleness, and forgiveness. The words kept coming. "All you have to do is be loving and gentle and kind, to yourself and others. And stay with me." I was speaking but again, it felt like God talking, saying to me, "Stay with me, just stay with me." I felt something along the lines of, "What if it were just you and me (God)? No one else, just you and me? Would you be okay with that?" Before, on the drive, I was worried about friendships, family stuff, other people in my life. And during this calm moment, my brain kept wanting to go back to thinking about other people and how I was letting them down, but each time I would try to go back there, I heard, "Stay with me." Just a gentle reminder to think only of God right then. And then I realized that life could be great with just me and God, that He was the most important being, presence, in my life, and every other person was like a "bonus." People in my life were all gifts from God, like extra blessings beyond the blessing that God is. I suddenly felt so independent, so free, of everything. I was still conscious of the issues and challenges that had distressed me, but I felt okay with however things worked out. Every time I worried I would again hear, "Stay with me." I took it as my directive to mentally and spiritually stay close to God. This thought, this directive, continued for another 30 minutes. The words were so loving and gentle, clear, eloquent, not from me! Just a steady stream of everything I needed to hear.

Also during this time, I felt so warm. I'd been cold on the drive up, and even pretty cold since I'd returned from Ethiopia. It was a weird feeling, as I usually NEVER get cold. I just couldn't seem to warm up. But for those 30 minutes until I reached my destination, I felt so physically warm. And, another interesting thing happened: at one point I looked back and saw that Vinnie had settled down and was snoozing. My frantic voice had worried him, but once God started talking, he was fine.

I'd never had an experience like this before. It may have been a once in a lifetime experience, or maybe not. But whatever it was, I am so grateful. And now, when God and I are talking and I'm trying to learn more about Him, and to see where our relationship goes from here, recalling this experience helps me feel so close to Him.

Lift your head up - What Vinnie taught me while he was wearing The Cone of Shame

                Right now, Vinnie and I are in the middle of a dog-sitting assignment. He accompanies me on all my dog-sitting gigs; he has a wonderful time playing with the dogs, checking out all their toys, and exploring their yard.

                Sometime during this current gig, Vinnie came in from the backyard with some blood lining the perimeter of his right eye. After some examining (and a subsequent trip to the vet the next morning), I found out there were 3 different cuts along his eyelid. Not huge cuts, but something that I needed to deal with. We left the vet with some disinfectant and, you guessed it, The Cone of Shame so Vinnie wouldn’t scratch it as he was healing. (For the reference, see one of the greatest, cutest, cleverest movies ever created). 

                I realized that I needed to take some practical steps with his injury. I needed to clean it every day, and make sure he was wearing his cone as much as possible, and reduce the amount of time he roughhoused with the other dogs. (Not only for his protection, but have you ever tried to wrestle someone who is wearing a cone? Ouch.)

                But along with the practical steps, I needed to take some spiritual steps. I needed to pray for the little guy. I needed to show him love and tenderness, as Jesus showed the people that he came into contact with. I needed to see Vinnie as God’s creation, as a beautiful creature who expressed God-like qualities such as affection, love, protectiveness towards me, curiosity, energy, zest for life, tenderness, crazy-puppy-like behavior (okay, that’s not really a God-like quality, but it’s still pretty endearing…). And I needed to realize that Vinnie isn’t my dog; he’s God’s dog. Even when I can’t protect him, I know that God can and will. I needed to remind myself of this, and see that everything is in God’s control.

                One of the messages that became so clear to me came from a simple line that I’ve repeatedly told Vinnie over the past week: “Lift your head up.” As he walks around with this cone, he is continually knocking the bottom of it against stairs, the floor, furniture, and whatever else happens to be lying around that Vinnie feels compelled to climb over. And each time he knocks the cone into something, the edge that is against his neck jabs into him, jolting him out of the intense focus that he seems to have on his desired destination. After a couple of collisions, the poor guy just stops where he is, sits down, and looks at me with a pathetic gaze. I can see the frustration in his face; he just wants to climb up the stairs and join the other 2 dogs on the deck! Is that too much to ask? At these times, I find myself saying, “Vinnie, lift your head up, bud. Lift the cone up.” That’s all it would take, just a slight inclination of his neck to bring the cone up far enough to clear any object he wants to overtake. If he’s having a particularly hard time, I will go over to him and gently lift the cone up myself, grabbing the top rim and tilting it up just enough, while pulling him slightly forward so he gets the idea that it is now safe to move ahead.

            After a couple days of helping him, I can see that Vinnie is making progress. He walks a little more carefully now, with a little more caution and calculation concerning his surroundings. He doesn’t want to get jolted backwards or stopped suddenly, just because he was a little overzealous or a little too eager to get to the food dish. When he moves slowly, he’s definitely not like the usual Crazy Vinnie who tears through the house. He just wants to be sure that his forward path is clear before making any sudden moves. But an amazing thing happens: when he lifts his head up, he knows that he can go quickly again. He can run down the hall, tail wagging, knowing that just by looking up, he will be safe and can move freely. When he tilts his neck upwards, he can practically fly, soar, crash into walls… just like what is typical for Crazy Vinnie. It’s amazing to see Vinnie figure this out, and act like “Vinnie.”

                I feel like I’ve had a similar experience lately. A few months ago, this past winter, I was having a hard time moving forward; emotionally, mentally, even maybe a little physically. I just felt that there were so many issues and so many problems, and each time I would try to overcome them or try to find a solution, I would hit a stumbling block. I got jolted backwards, I fell down, I couldn’t get up again… and if I tried and succeeded in getting up for half a minute, I would just fall down again, much harder than before. But even with all of these falls, each time I tried to stand up, I really just wanted to run. I wanted to reach as high as I could and stretch out my hand as far as it would go… Not just settle for feeling “all right,” but feel totally back on my feet again and totally stable, totally full of the life that I knew was inside me, feel the rainbows-and-balloons sensation of total joy. But I just couldn’t get there.

As I kept falling, again and again, I had so many people in my life who showed me so much love. Some people could see that I was falling, and others had no idea but were loving nonetheless, just because they love continually and unconditionally as part of their nature. And each expression of love that I experienced touched my heart. I didn’t know what was happening with me and I felt like I was in a scary place, but quite frequently there would be an instant, a moment, that was so full of love, and this was such a support to me. It was definitely the silver lining.

                After 6 weeks of this up-and-down rising-and-falling nonsense, I decided that I was going to take it slowly. I decided that I wasn’t going to hit the ground running. It only took Vinnie about 2 days what it took me 6 weeks to learn! (It’s okay… I don’t mind if Vinnie shows me up from time to time.) Like Vinnie, I was just going to take it easy, and make sure there wasn’t anything in my way before I started running. This was my philosophy behind it: When you’re struggling and not at your optimal performance level, why run straight at a hurdle that you’re not sure you can clear? If you’re feeling great, feeling ready, then go for it. But if you’ve fallen down a dozen times recently, start with smaller hurdles. Go slowly, practice, breathe… and then, when you know you’re ready, take on that big hurdle!

So I went slowly, and didn’t try any large hurdles… just the small ones that I was confident I could do. During this time, which was over several months, I discovered that there were still some things I needed to figure out. I wasn’t falling down like before, but I was still bumping into things. I didn’t feel like I was able to move freely, and I didn’t feel like “Katie Brotten.” I just felt like a toned-down, less energetic, less “Katie” version of myself. And then one day, I fell down again pretty hard. It was like before, when I had tried to move too quickly and wasn’t ready… Except this time I had been moving so slowly, and still fell down! I was immediately jolted out of the slow, ambling pace that I had been keeping for a number of months. I thought that by moving slowly, I would be safe, but that was not the case. I didn’t know what happened, or how to help myself out of it. I was scared.

It was time to make a change. Like Vinnie, I needed to lift my head up if I was going to clear the obstacles in my path. I just wouldn’t be able to move forward without doing so. It is one thing to move carefully and cautiously, but if your head is still down, you are going to bump into things no matter how slowly you move. And to really be able to take on life at the speed I wanted to, I was going to need to look up.

At this time, a good friend did something for me, which, while on a much larger scale, had some similarities to what I did for Vinnie. Similar to how I tilted the rim of his cone so that he could maneuver the path and move forward safely, this friend gave me a hand when I most desperately needed it. Like Vinnie, I was struggling with the most basic steps forward. I just wanted to stop there, in the middle of the hallway, and just be done. Not play with the other dogs, not go and get a toy, not go explore the backyard; just be done. In addition to meeting me where I was, where I had fallen, to give me a gentle lift to my feet, she also helped me see the different options that I could take and prompted me to move forward on my own path. And above all, she reminded me where the true source of everything good is; she helped me lift my thought to God. I was reminded that there is so much more when we just look up. We do not have to be stuck in one spot, to forever bump up against obstacles and become immobilized by the “cones” that we wear, whether we choose to wear them or they are placed upon us in one way or another. There is indeed a way to move forward, many ways, and if we try a path and it doesn’t work, we must move on to the next one. And the whole time, we can lift our gaze and our thoughts and our energy upward… This is essential in moving forward.

Vinnie gets his cone off in a couple of days, and he’ll be back to the wild and crazy kid I love; unobstructed and unfettered by anything that would dare to stand in his way. And I’m taking my cone off too; it doesn’t suit me. But, regardless of the tough times spent stumbling and falling, I have such an immense feeling of gratitude. It’s astounding to me how much gratitude I have felt during this time, the toughest time I have ever experienced in my life. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from these experiences, and to learn more about myself and about God. I am grateful for the love that was so overpowering and so present in those times, the love from God, from friends, from family. And I’m so grateful for every kind word, smile, expression of love, and for every person who reached down and lifted my cone up a bit, helped me to keep my eyes on God as I continue to move forward.

Fixing the Pecan Pie (not a story about pie)

A cool analogy popped into my mind last night. I was doing some self-reflection, and I suddenly thought of a funny story involving my friend's father. Several years ago, he made a pecan pie one night, to serve at a dinner party the next day. It came out of the oven and it looked delicious. However, at 2am that night he awoke suddenly as he realized he had forgotten to add the butter! He looked at his beautiful pie, thought about what to do, and then decided that he was not going to throw it away. Why give up on something that could be so good, so delicious, so perfect? So he grabbed the right amount of butter, melted it, and slowly poured the liquified butter over the top of the pie. His hope was that it would sink in and taste just as good as if he had included it originally. 

As I was doing some self-reflection, I was wondering if it was too late to to add a key ingredient to my life. Was it too late to significantly change what had already been formed in earlier years? I was stuck in a thought pattern that was not beneficial to me in any way... but just waiting on the outside was something completely different, something that could really change my life for the better. Something that was trying to sink into my thoughts and my outlook, much like the butter was sinking into the pie. Would it work? Was there hope?

I kept thinking about how we can get stuck in certain thought patterns and behaviors, even after we've outgrown them and they are of no use to us anymore. Maybe these thoughts and behaviors stem from things we were told as kids, maybe they are negative thoughts that we replay in our mind over and over, maybe they come to us through society or our culture. But if they are no longer useful to us, why don't we cast them off?

Think about people who have gone through trauma. War veterans. Domestic violence/child abuse survivors. They are often stuck with certain thought patterns, PTSD, survival techniques, things that probably saved their life when they needed those skills and techniques. But once the trauma has passed, once the war is over, once the spouse leaves the unsafe home, these skills and techniques are no longer needed. The tricky part is unlearning all that they have learned about the world and about life. What once saved their life in the war may now hinder the life they are trying to live when they return home. For domestic violence survivors, they succeeded by overcoming the challenges at home, but often they fall into similar experiences or continue to choose partners that also abuse them. Why? As humans we are often creatures of habit... Does this mean we are really stuck? Or is there hope that we can unlearn these habits, these patterns, that are so debilitating now that the storm has passed?

We want to cast off this old, outgrown thinking. The bible tells a story of a blind man who left the old behind as he ventured forth for the new. "And he, casting away his garment, rose, and came to Jesus" (Mark 10:50). He left behind what he was used to, what he had been stuck with, when he met Jesus. And he walked away, seeing.

But while we want to throw off the old ways of thinking for the new, we don't want to throw away ourselves. Audrey Hepburn puts it nicely: "People... have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone."

As for the pie, it was delicious. It really turned out all right, and it was able to absorb the butter very nicely. It wasn't a "throw-away" pie; it was a beautiful masterpiece, just like us.