Dumped

I have to tell you this story. Chloe, our eleven year old, was taking a spelling test yesterday. When I gave her a word she said, “Is that one word, or two?” I laughed, because I knew that she was kidding. Then, she recalled a story from third grade. You have to know the background to understand: She was in a third grade class of just three kids. We home school, but the kids were going to an enrichment class. This was the first time the school offered a third grade class, and attendance was low. Chloe is not comfortable with big expansive lulls in quiet, so while the teacher was administering a test about the extensive study they had just done on volcanoes, she gave the three children the word “volcano,” to write. That’s when Chloe asked her, as she did to me yesterday, “Is that one word, or two?” She said the teacher stopped dead in her tracks, turned to her in complete and utter disbelief and said, “Oh, come on! You should really know this by now!” I love that story. It is so like Chloe to fill up the air with her beautiful voice, just to pad the silence so no one feels uncomfortable.

Well, I want to write my blog about being dumped. Have you ever been dumped? I know it’s a weird thing to write about, since I’ve been happily married for sixteen blissful years, but being dumped one time in particular has left a sting that affects me still. I have to be honest, I’m a pretty sensible person. The way I view being dumped, or dumping someone is generally very logical: Why would you ever want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you?

Well, this one time I fell in love hard. In fact, it was like no other love I’ve ever experienced, still. (I hope Rick doesn’t get jealous). Upon waking up and upon drifting off to sleep, I would have His name on my lips, and constantly throughout the day, I would say almost to myself, “I love you,” as if He could hear. You see, if He were around, I would have wanted Him to hear the whispers of my love for Him.

I would even drift off to sleep, purposely intent on dreaming about eventually living in His house. He had told me once that He would prepare a room in his house, just for me. I imagined that it would be filled with things that I loved; an art easel, a writing table, big billowy white curtains, tall hovering redwood tress right outside an opened window, and maybe even a view of the ocean. I dreamt that this room would be my place to worship Him even more.

As time went on, I memorized His letters to me. I memorized every nuance of our time together, and when He brought me gifts, gifts beyond my wildest dreams, I was giddy. He actually introduced Rick and I. And, when I had miscarried the sixth time, He helped me out, comforting me when words would no longer come from my mouth when I tried to talk to Him about it. In fact, I will never forget the time that Rick and I kneeled on the side of our bed to implore Him for Sophie, that last and ninth pregnancy: Every time I opened my mouth to configure words, any words to explain the pain in my heart, or the deep longing I had for this unknown child, only sobs came out. Then, He brought us Sophia – her name means “wisdom,” which is a gift He had given me that ninth and last pregnancy.

Well, as time went on, I got used to Him. My love did not die for Him, but it did not strengthen either. I let other things take up His space and instead of drifting off to sleep with His name on my lips, my mind drifted off to sleep with worry and dread of the coming days. I was so overwhelmed that I could barely think of Him at all. And, when I ceased to get the things I wanted, I was convinced He’d forgotten all about me, because I did not see His presence and I never heard His voice, even when I called.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know who dumped who, but I have my guesses. I know what people mean when they say they just drifted apart, something I never thought possible before. I have begged Him to return. I have felt His absence and nothing has been good since He’s been gone. Really, it’s been three long years of struggling without Him. I keep calling Him, expecting Him to answer any day. Pathetically, I have remnants of His love letters all over my house, taped to a window, posted to a door. They sting my heart.

And, I know it might seem kind of creepy, but we even go to His house and hang out sometimes. You’d think all this time spent in His house, I’d see Him, but strangely enough, I don’t. I still hear from our mutual friends, though. Regardless of what they really think, they are so kind, and though they might not really believe it themselves, they keep telling me that He’ll come back. They are cheering for me, though I know some aren’t. You see, I know it’s sinful human nature for some to give into the secret delight when someone else is suffering, someone they thought of more as a rival than a friend. That’s why “a friend loves at all times” (Proverbs 17:17), and some just gloat over your failures.

Recently I met someone, a woman who didn’t know me at all. In this brief interaction she pummeled me with self-righteous advice. Quite a bit younger than me, she told me that she had a lot of experience, “probably more than most,” and she knew that the only answer to anything is prayer. In this interaction, she assumed that if I had problems I wasn’t praying – how little she knew of me. Our interaction was brief, because every time I started to talk, she shut me down with, “Pray, pray, pray.” She literally interrupted me several times and cut me off with her sing-songy advice: “Pray, pray, pray!” As I excused myself, I hoped that “Pray, pray, pray” would always work out for her, because if it ever stopped working, she might feel the way I did. She might begin to wonder what she’s done wrong.

She might wonder what sin she’s done, maybe without even knowing, that continually keeps her God away. She might envision that like a lit citronella candle that keeps away mosquitoes at night, her sin has wafted into the nostrils of her God to keep Him at bay for three long years. By the way, I have prayed. I have had others, much godlier than me, pray. I have fasted. I have been anointed with oil and prayed over. I have sought Godly counsel. I have repented. I have introspectively examined myself until I am blue in the face. I have prayed scriptures. I have memorized scriptures. I have cried from the depths of my heart to my omniscient, omnipotent God, but sometimes it’s not about what we do. Sometimes, most often, it’s not about us at all.

I love that my friends, those not excited about my dismal spiral downward, pray for me, and continue to heap prayers upward to heaven with arms jutted skyward, grasping for answers and reprieve for our family.

Yesterday, I read the story of Joseph to my second grade class. You know what I loved about that story that I’d never noticed before? When Joseph was brought from the dungeon to interpret Pharaoh’s dream, he interpreted it quickly and the Pharaoh accepted it as fact, and immediately he elevated Joseph to a place of power within the palace. The part I find striking is that everyone involved would have to wait seven good years before seeing seven difficult years of famine to know if Joseph was right. Yes, Pharaoh, a non-believer of Joseph’s God, had to wait seven years to see if Joseph’s interpretation of the dream was accurate, but he empowered Joseph to his second-in-command anyway.

Can you imagine waiting for seven years to see if your decision was a right one? What if Joseph was a swindler? What if he had used the Pharaoh’s paranoia and superstition to manipulate his way into the palace and into power? Well, Rick and I did not have to wait seven years to find that we had been swindled in our business deal. We did not have seven good years. We barely had one good year and though I love God, I don’t know think I could patiently wait for seven years to find out anything, and yet, that’s the funny thing, because I am. Who can know if this is the first three years in a string of what will eventually be seven years?

I have said jokingly before that I am not a long sufferer. Well, in hindsight, I have found that I am. After nine miscarriages in ten years, we finally capped off our family with our little Sophie. And, there are other things for which I’ve waited what seemed like forever to be remedied, with weeks and months turning into years. Much to my dismay, I am a long sufferer. I don’t like it, but it’s the deal.

I feel very much like someone God has dumped. Dumped into the bottom of a cistern sold as a slave, I am wondering over the Sinai Peninsula to an unknown land. I am tired of the terrain and don’t know the language. I have a foreboding feeling that this treacherous journey will never end. Rubbing my backside still from the abrupt fall, I know, in my heart, that God is still in control.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on
your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and
he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:4-6)

The New Me - Kitties and Puppy Dogs

Wow, I have really offended a couple of people with that one blog, “One Generation Away From a Tent.” You know, that blog was just MY opinion, thus this is MY blog – MY blog. I don’t want to be selfish, but really, I’m not sharing MY blog, though you can comment on a blog, and if it doesn’t mention anything about “death,” or “torture,” as one did, I’ll probably moderate it so that it’s posted.

I won’t lie or exaggerate the responses, since I actually got more positive responses to that blog than I did negative. I think sometimes, it is my tendency to focus on the negative, especially when it comes from one person, in particular, who I thought knew me better than to attack my character.

Anyhoo, having offended just a couple of people, I have decided to turn over a new leaf. I am going to be sweeter, more demure, and way less caustic and opinionated. No, no, no more opinions, because I’m a Christian, and I guess some people don’t think Christians should have particularly political opinions, or voice them. Though that scares me since it seems to say that only non-Christians should voice their opinions, I don’t want to offend anyone, so I’m just going to please everyone, regardless of what I think, feel, or what my past experiences have led me to conclude.

I will even ignore -- forget if possible -- my parents and grandparents struggles, since in remembering them, I have been offensively honoring their misdeeds: You know to please everyone, I’ll opt to throw the baby out with the bath water, since they made mistakes. Who needs them? They’re just family. So, in my best effort to please EVERYONE, let’s get on with the new me.

For this momentous occasion, I’ve written a poem. I hope you like it.

I like kitties and puppy dogs
I like chocolate and croaking frogs
I like raindrops and skipping rocks
I like singing and fresh warm socks

I like children who hula hoop
And mint chip ice-cream in big round scoops
I like caramel-corn and rain
I like poems and sweet refrains

I like talking to all sorts of folks
And tickling my children with gentle pokes
I like saying what I like
I wish I could ride a bike

I’d ride it far, I’d ride it near
I wouldn’t tell anyone my fear
Of a state too big and strong
That makes 5 year olds sing their songs

All about the main guy in charge
While the government gets large
On the backs of you and me
And tries to eliminate the free

And some of our constitutional rights
Taking away the right to fight
So, shut your mouth stupid,
Ignorant girl, before I shame you in front of the world…

Darn it! Did I just write that? Ugh, I’m really not very good at this. I can see right now it’s going to take some work. OK, let me catch my breath. What I meant to say is that I like ponies too, and sometimes when the kids aren’t around I even watch “Spongebob” by myself. I am pretty dopey, not a coherent thought in my little, pea brain. I mean I am a girl for crying out loud, right? I should really be thinking of fake nails and shiny pink lip-gloss.

Wouldn’t we all be better off if people like me never expressed their opinions, because even though I confess over and over I’m as faulty as can be, a person who sins all the time, clearly the big thoughts, the big ideas should be left to the perfect people who never sin, never offend anyone? I’m really caught here in between a rock and hard place: By saying I’m a Christian, I’m apparently saying I’m perfect, though I’m told, Biblically, that I’m a sinner, which I truly believe to be the case. Then, if as a Christian I have political opinions, I am apparently convoluting the message of Christ. Hmm, why did God give us thoughts? Still struggling with that one.

Then, I guess there’s some school of thought that says if you’re a Christian, you can’t be politically minded. I know Jesus said, "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's,” which seems to clearly draw the line between what God deserves and what our government deserves. If “everything in heaven and earth is [Gods],” and “[He is] exalted as head over all,” and “the ruler of all things” (1 Chronicles 29: 11b – 12), then how, or why is the government allowed to compete with what surely the Creator of heaven and earth would view as inalienable human rights? I guess that’s the sticking point: Who, on earth, determines what are “inalienable rights?” I think much of that could be found in scripture, but surely the answer isn’t to be silent, for fear of being wrong or offensive: Isn’t that what prayer and discernment of the Holy Spirit is for?

I also think Paul would have something to say to people who tell other Christians to be silent. Paul was imprisoned when he said in Ephesians 6:19-21, “Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. “ Aren’t we all to be Christ’s ambassadors? (2 Corinthians 5:20). Can you imagine telling Paul to be silent? Surely he offended the government of his time, or he would not have been imprisoned, right? If he were non-offensive to the government, breaking no laws, not speaking out against the governing authorities, than why would they imprison him? Couldn’t the Romans have just played Paul off as a crazy, fanatical follower of Christ, if he had merely been preaching the gospel, had it not disrupted the governing authorities? Had he just been silent, he could have met with a holy huddle of fellow believers and safely and snugly slept in his own bed, rather than on the hard stone floor of a jail cell.

Can I just say this? I am blogging, as an imperfect Christian who still thinks and has opinions about political policies, and I am still trying to be the best Christian I can be everyday. For faulty people like me, I like this verse: “Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Phillipians 3:13 – 15).

OK, so with that said, let me try this thing again. This time, nice, nice, nice – happy, happy, happy…Here goes.

I like mochas on a cold winter night
When we’re all tucked in snuggly tight
I like Christmas on a snowy day
And squirrels when they’re outside at play

I like salads and apple pies
And a dog who always nips at flies
I like riding in fast cars
But I’m not too fond of certain czars

Who don’t believe that “If a man does not work, he shall not eat;”
They’d rather create an impoverished need
Of lazy people to sit at home
While they live on government funded loans

Where do you think that money’s from?
It depletes from others to give to some
Socialism and communist
Reminds me of oozy boils and cysts

Now they’re lighting up the Empire State
To warn us all of our dismal fate
Red and yellow, for blood and fear
I got off course…uh, let’s have a beer?

Ah, this is really hard when anyone tells you what to say
Or to think, and then go away
Putting it all on hater’s labels
I’m more apt to believe in fables

Than to buy that I’m entirely wrong
For my opinions – my bloggy song
I cannot be silent, nor do I want to be
Because I love opinions and speech that’s free

OK, I give up! I am not very good at this complacent and non-opinionated thing. If only I were enrolled in Kindergarten right now in Florida. I could learn what I’m supposed to think, put it in a catchy song, and get with the program!