Look beyond the ugly

We watch HGTV all the time, I mean a LOT.  For some reason it’s really fun to see homes, furniture, rooms and what not fixed up, updated, changed, painted, re-styled, and more…basically made better.  One of our new favorites is the Property Brothers in which Jonathan Scott, a seasoned realty agent, and his brother Drew, a contractor/renovator, convince people to trust them to create their dream home.

The show always starts with the brothers taking a couple to a fabulous updated home, one that holds all the items on their hearts’ wish list, and then letting the couple’s hearts crash into reality when they hear the price of that home.  Time for Drew to step up and tell them he can help make an older or outdated home into their dream home for less.

If the house hunting couple agrees to give it a go, Jonathan takes them to see all sorts of…well…not so lovely homes so they can pick which one they want to renovate.  I have to say I don’t blame the couples for wrinkling their noses at some of them.  What with the orange shag carpeting, the dark 70’s paneling, painted wrought iron railings, dirt and even mold, the fake stone front fireplaces and tiny kitchens with fluorescent lighting, the words “dream home” are not the first to come to mind! Continue reading

Didn’t see it coming

10 years ago, on the morning of September 11, 2001, hundreds of people went to work or about their morning routine in the city like they did every other day.  They didn’t know terror and tragedy were on the way, or that they would soon face death.  They didn’t see it coming.

8 years ago, on the afternoon of September 8, 2003, I received a cancer diagnosis from my surgeon.  I felt fine and had no unusual symptoms besides a small lump in my breast.  I didn’t see that coming, for sure.

About a month ago, here in town, a young couple riding on their motorcycle on a beautiful sunny afternoon was crushed between two SUVs because the driver coming up behind them at an intersection was intoxicated.  They left behind small children and many shocked, saddened family and friends.  They certainly didn’t know that was going to happen.

I could list story after story and we’ve all heard it before:  none of us knows what will happen tomorrow, or even in the next hour.   Time is far more precious than we usually realize or remember.  Just reminding you as I remind myself.

Kind of makes the silly things I get upset about trivial and ridiculous:  like the self-checkout clerk being a bit too chatty and helpful Continue reading

The noise upstairs

It just gets too quiet sometimes around our house these days.  Now that two of our girls are in college and our youngest is gone often with friends, I miss those sounds I’ve loved all throughout our life.  I miss the sounds of the girls giggling, talking, singing in their rooms or playing instruments, playing video games, having friends in and putting on plays, running in and outside the house, and just life.  I miss the sound of them walking up and down the stairs, doing dishes in the kitchen while singing to their iPod, typing away on the computer keyboard across the room, talking on their phones, or even watching TV.  Those sounds let me know my girls were home.

Last weekend all my girls were here, along with my oldest daughter’s boyfriend.  As John and I went to bed at night, I heard their footsteps upstairs, Continue reading

Worth It

If I based my worth on people’s opinions of me I would be whipped to and fro like a ride on one of those old wooden roller coasters.  It’s not really fun and it gives me a headache.

If I based my worth on how I feel about myself any given day or moment, I’d be just as fickle and unsure, my self-image battered and held hostage to whichever emotion ruled at the time.

Am I overly emotional at times?  Yes.

A little silly?  Um, yes.

Perfectionistic and holding unrealistic standards for myself, even without the input of others?  You bet.

Prone to make mistakes even on my best days?  Of course. Continue reading

Trialaphobia

She had just finished telling me how important antibacterial soap and lotion are and that she used hand sanitizer all the time.  She avoided touching handles in public and things that might be touched by a lot of other folks.  Then, before she left, she told me that she gets sick all the time.  She’s someone I’d label a bit of a germaphobic, in the kindest way of course.

Hold up, though, something isn’t adding up here.   She uses those preventative products religiously and gets sick more than people like me that don’t use that stuff very often.

On the grand continuum of using those anti-germ products, I stand closer to the “don’t care so much” end.  Don’t judge!  I’m a clean person, just not overly concerned.  I don’t eat off the floor, but I don’t bleach everything and use hand sanitizer all the time.  It’s just not me.  I also have pretty tough antibodies and don’t get sick very often.

I’m not saying I’m better, but I am saying that getting sick once in a while can actually make us stronger and more able to fight off the next wave of illness.   Now, don’t come over and sneeze on me just to teach me a lesson.

We humans also tend to be a bit trialaphobic: trying to avoid trials, challenges and suffering at all costs.  Is it that deep down inside we think that will help us avoid them even more in the future?   Or that life will be easier, more comfortable? Continue reading

If I got a tattoo

I know what it would have to say:  “It’s not about you.”

What is this constant, nagging, sneaky and subtle need we have to focus on ourselves?  It seems I work hard not to and ask God to help me put self aside and no sooner think I’ve made progress than I notice I’m thinking about myself again…or giving myself credit, or assuming something is up to me that is actually up to Him.

It’s one of those long-as-life projects, I think, and it’s not really my project.  It’s God’s.

I would probably benefit from having a tattoo that reminded me of this crucial truth every time I saw it.  Maybe it would be best across my forehead, backward so that when I looked in the mirror I could read it and remember.

It’s not that I should hate myself, or berate myself.  It’s not that I should think of myself as a loser, though sometimes I do. Continue reading

Not that I want to go there again…

Last year was fraught with stress, pressure, hurt, questions, doubts, frustrations…you name it!  In fact the last few years for us were pretty stressful in one way or another and brought some disappointments here and there.  That’s the way it is for everyone, I know, it just seemed to be ultra concentrated for a while.  My heart was gasping for God like suffocating lungs for oxygen.  I had to hear His voice, tried to find Him day after day and be near Him.

In this new chapter of life we’ve just started many of those pressures have been relieved.  Life feels a little easier right now.  The only problem is, how do I stay so intimately connected to God like I was before?  It seems I searched for Him more fervently when I didn’t know where the resources to meet our needs in each day were coming from or when I felt so at a loss for solutions that I simply fell into Him in hope that He had them ready.

It’s not like I want to go back, no, no, no, Continue reading

Root Canal Spirituality

If you know me, you expect me to draw some lesson or ponderings from my root canal experience last week, some correlation with my faith.  But, of course!  Far be it for me to disappoint.

The whole reason for my root canal was a dead tooth with an abscessed root.  That is just plain nasty.  Infection set in and caused pain so I finally took action.  There was definitely a problem that needed fixing or I would keep hurting and possibly even face more serious problems.

I went to an expert, a man who’s gone to years of schooling and obviously had lots of practice already performing this endodontic feat of fantastic-ness.  He was quick, confident, and kind and I felt I could trust him right away.  He knew what he was talking about and what he was doing.

His assistant was just as sharp, right there with every tool he needed at the right time.  They worked together like clockwork, in tandem, to finish the job for me and get me all fixed up.

There were a few foibles, like one time the assistant accidentally dropped a tool and they had to get a clean one.  Then a particular tool kept malfunctioning and causing him to have to repeat small steps until he got a replacement that worked properly.

I was wishing I could watch the whole procedure from their point of view, Continue reading

Good Scars

She said she’s going to get a tattoo that says “Beauty from pain” on her forearm where she has a few scars.  The scars remind her of a not so great choice she made last year and each time she looks at them, she told me, she thinks about what she did.  The scars were like tightly bound, rough ropes that kept her tethered to shame.  She would see them and berate herself all over again for cutting her arm in a moment of deep hurt and loneliness.  I think it did break one of those binding ropes when she told me about it, which she had put off doing for a while.  God was healing her one step at a time.

As she talked about it with me and how she wanted to replace those scars with a positive message, I told her that the scars are not all bad.  They will fade in time, but instead of bringing up shame or disgust with herself for something she feels was a mistake, they could remind her of all God has done for her and is doing right now to help her grow, heal her heart, and use her to encourage other people.  She has good scars.

I remembered back to 2003 when I was recovering from a mastectomy and looked at myself in the mirror for the first time without bandages.   Continue reading

Thank God, I’m not the One

“The Afters” sing a great song about how it’s a good thing we’re not God, we’re not the Savior of the world because we couldn’t do, wouldn’t do all that He does for mankind.  He shows mercy when we would just as soon write someone off for ticking us off.  He loves even when we turn our backs on Him, spit in His face in anger or shrug in apathy.  He forgives when we tend to hold grudges.  He gives second, third, fourth, fifteenth, and hundredth chances when we give up on people after a few offenses.

Thank God, I’m not the one!  The world would be in trouble with such a fickle, weak, limited deliverer.  There is a God and it’s not me.  Or you. Continue reading