In about 2 weeks, this blog site will be a year old. In the last 5-6 months, I’ve been trying pretty hard to write interesting, helpful, or entertaining stuff for this place, almost every single day. I’ve made fantastic contacts, great new friends, and I’ve had a good time doing it.
This is hard to admit, but, I have to confess, that I’ve been blogging mostly to build a larger reading audience. A little while ago my agent told me that I stood a good chance to have my material published, but the biggest obstacle was “lack of platform.” Lack of platform sort of means, not too many care who you are, or what you do. A successful blog can change that, and help a writer build this much-needed platform. I know there’s nothing shameful about writing a blog and hoping others read it, but my remorse at this moment is that I realize I have made it my means to an end. I’ve been holding so tight to this idea that I can generate a solid readership base to, as Pedro says, “make all my wildest dreams come true,” that I didn’t realize I was putting it before the whole point, which is to share myself and my God with others. In a real sense, I’ve thought of this blog as a vehicle to “get me somewhere,” and I’ve made it an idol. Sometimes I have said to myself, “Well, it’s really both, a vehicle and my ministry.” This may be true, and I hope things work out like this, but if my priorities or motivations shift weight, things get off balance. And they have been.
I stopped long enough for God to speak to my heart, and in my spirit, it seems “he” said, “Let it go.” I got a little panicky at first. “Completely? What? Huh? What ‘chu talkin’ ’bout Willis…er, Father in Heaven?”
Then it seemed like God nudged me, and “said,” “Don’t be such an extremist.” This threw in off a little. So, I sort of looked around sheepishly for a little, almost looking for an exit, but without trying to be obvious about it. It seems like God “said,” “You’re clutching. Stop it. Just write and stop thinking about the rest. It’s none of your business.”
This bothered me. I felt out of control. Of course, it was a false assumption that I really have control like I was thinking I had. But, then I thought about what that might feel like…to hand things over… and I tried to “put that skin on.” Even just putting it on halfway felt SO nice. Relaxing. Like the pressure was off, and leaving the room, like a smog lifting. So, I stopped that exercise midway, I took a deep breath and I yielded. I took my sweaty feet off the pedals and coasted. I waited. And nothing happened. Nothing, for better or for worse, but I felt much better.
I wanted to tell you about it, because I know I haven’t been thinking the right way. I know that has to change, and I’m turning my heart the other way. I may post less often, but maybe there will be more true joy and inspiration when I do.
I do hope many are blessed by this blog, and resources, but I’m not going to transpose the priorities anymore, if I can help it, (with God’s grace). This will happen on a heart level, and it might not even be apparent to you, but I hope that my honesty will not only encourage you to look carefully at your own priorities, and goals, but also be a way to ensure that I stay congruent to my core convictions and values, in the way and nature of my God.
It’s hard to make confessions because, sometimes, it makes you feel really weak, stupid, or like some kind of a scum bag. It’s risky. The temptation to keep on a mask, and act like things are all pulled together, can be a strong influencer. Even though it feels embarrassing, it’s still the only way to move forward, and toward shalom (well-being/peace). I’m trying to be brave.
My son, as many of you know, is autistic. Change is very hard for him. He exemplifies what many of us feel at times of change, but in the extreme.
On Saturday, when he was away at a therapy program, we had to scrap our Toyota Paseo of 13 years. It was 17 years old, ran well over 169,000 miles, and finally the engine went.
Nathan had wanted to clean and fix the car (himself), and when he saw it was gone, it broke his heart, and he cried a broken-hearted cry for quite a bit. Yesterday, at breakfast he sang a song, of mourning,
“I miss you Little Car. I miss you so much. I miss you Little Car, I do…”
We salvaged the license plate, and he was happy for this. He colored two pieces of paper similar to the color of the car, and had Tim, my husband, attach the plate to it. Today, he took it to school to show his class, and tell the tale. It seemed to bring some closure for him, even as we discussed these plans.
Even though change is inevitable, it seems to me that some ritual is important to journey through change. Nathan is a good teacher. He feels things very deeply, and sometimes his tenderness, even towards machines, reminds the rest of us, that bonds can grow tight, and separation hurts the heart. It’s not something to just “get over,” but rather something to swim through, like mud, sometimes.
Below are some pictures of Nathan’s friend, and our family transportation for the last 13 years, The Little Car.
Nathan (loves legos and trains!)
What rituals, or ways of transitioning, have helped you or others during loss?
Long ago, singer/song writer, Bob Dylan sang that we’ve all “gotta serve somebody.” Nothing could be truer. Dylan wasn’t preaching, he was capturing the human condition.
Look at anybody you know, or watch a few people for a while. What do they love? What do they work for? What do they invest in? Of course, ask yourself the very same questions, because your answers are the ones that start the thoughts and insights that produce growth, or betterment.
Whatever someone starts to love or invest time and effort into, that very thing becomes their master. (It owns them, etc.) It becomes the object of their worship.I realize this sounds negative, but that is not what I’m shooting for here. It’s just an observation. But notice how, a kind of power or attention shift happens, like it or not.
It’s true with hobbies, goals, money making, fitness, drugs, career, relationships, material wealth, fame, ministry, and yes, God. So, what ever it is we love or enjoy had better be the best master, the most good, or the highest way, so when (not if, but when) it soon rules us, the fit will be for our good, not ill, because, “you gotta serve somebody.” We’d like to think we’ve mastered independence, and we make our own decisions, but what we love (worship, adore, spend time on) influences us. And that’s that. (I got folksy on you, at the last second.)
You can tell so much about you, if you write down 10 adjectives that best describe the thing (person, item, idea) that you love best or put most of your time into, (like a strategy, trade, or discipline). Give it a try if you don’t believe me. If you leave 10 adjectives in the comments section (answering honestly), even if I don’t know you, I’ll reply and tell you something about you. (Or, maybe it’s more than you want to know. lol.)
Interestingly, it’s those who that say they love God, for instance, when they describe God as judgmental, angry, and so forth, they are really describing a god they have worshiped, which is different than the Being who made, loves, and redeemed us.
They also describe who they have become. We become that which we serve and worship. If we adore an ungracious god, we become ungracious. However, in this case, we are not worshiping the Living God.
(I’d love to hear your thoughts or comments; and if you were tagged to read this, thank you for reading and responding in a way that best suits you.)
Hello Schuylkill News readers. Thank you for coming!
Now we can continue a conversation I broached at the beginning of January. (see more below)
If you haven’t read the latest (free) issue of Schuylkill-News, click here to find distribution locations, or do a search for “Schuylkill-News,” on this facebook link, to see the full layout.
On this “January Epiphanies” theme, let’s first reflect for a moment on the quote seen in the article:
“Who can listen to a story of loneliness and despair without taking the risk of experiencing similar pains in his own heart and even losing his precious peace of mind? In short: Who can take away suffering without entering it?”-Henri Nouwen (1932-1996)
I encourage you to leave comments, thoughts, questions, or answer in reply to this question I now pose:
*When has someone entered your life or struggles, to help you. Or, when have you done this for someone else?(Anonymous comments are welcome, too.)
*In your opinion, what are some things we learn from these times of surprising grace?
