Junior High Flashback

Let me begin by saying that I was not a popular kid in junior high. Maybe it had something to do with me transferring from a private school to public school as I entered junior high, but I never felt that I belonged. At first, I tried to fit in by using swear words that all the other kids were using, which looking back was pretty ridiculous since I had no idea what any of them meant. I usually wore hand-me-down clothes, and I was a little chubby. To add insult to injury, I was a good student, and that certainly was not appreciated by the other kids. The result was that I was called all sorts of derogatory names.

I know that lots of kids are tormented in junior high. It seems to be a common thread that many of us share. I was probably a little more sensitive to the jaunts and adjustment that my transition required. I spent the first week and a half crying in the commons before school, which of course, did not raise my standing any with of the other kids. Then I was just the weird girl who cried all the time. Well, last night I had a total junior high flashback.

Let me clarify before I relate my experience that my flashback had nothing to do with the people involved and everything to do with my own insecurities. I went to a scrapbooking evening with some ladies from our local congregation. I will say that the evening turned out to be a very pleasant surprise; however, it did not start out that way for me. Well, that is not accurate either. The trip was great; it was when we arrived at our destination to scrapbook that things went downhill for me.

I love letting people look at my scrapbooks (as long as the person looking is related to me - they have to love and approve even if my product isn't that spectacular). I am very private about my scrapbooking because I do not have and cannot afford all the nifty gadgets and paper kits, etc. that generally goes along with the hobby. My scrapbooking primarily consists of paper, pens and pictures. I'm really very basic - more by necessity than by desire. I try to be as creative as my budget will allow, but honestly, by the time I purchase paper, tape/glue, and pens, there are just very few funds left for other things.

That being said, let me tell you my story. To begin with, I was already feeling self-conscious because I was only able to attend the scrapping party as a result of a friend paying my way. I had never scrapped at a store before, but I packed my little pages and determined to step out of my comfort zone. I realized as I was packing up to leave that my paper trimmer was broken, but I figured I could borrow one from one of the other ladies (I didn't realize I could borrow one from the store - doh!).

We arrived and several of the ladies were already there and were busily working on their pages. I quickly realized that sharing a paper trimmer with someone was not really feasible (and again, I had no idea I could borrow one from the store). I decided that I would try just using scissors, and about 3 inches into my cut I realized that was a very bad plan.

At this point I could feel myself starting to blush, which happens rather easily as most who know me can attest. There were 7 of us, and I was feeling that I was definitely the odd man out. A very good friend of mine was sitting at the other end of the table, but she had brought a friend with her. They were discussing their work together. Two of the other ladies are next door neighbors, and they were busy working together as well. The remaining two (not counting myself) were eating dinner before they started their projects. That left me.

In order to avoid turning about 20 shades of red in front of them I extricated myself from the table and began to walk around the store (for lack of better occupation). I tried to call my husband to commiserate about the fact that I did not have an escape route and was stuck there til midnight, but he didn't answer his phone. I resorted to calling my mom - how sad, right? Here I am, nearly 33 years old, calling my mommy because I didn't think any of the other kids wanted to play with me. That is truly pathetic.

I probably spent 30 minutes or more just walking around the store. I looked at tons of cute scrapping stuff (none of which I could afford). I even found some really cute Cinderella stickers that Avari would have loved, but I could not justify $5 for stickers that would last all of 30 seconds. I finally found a fairly inexpensive little paper trimmer to replace my old one. I couldn't afford that either, but I figured if I was going to make it through the evening without crying, it was necessary (to mention it once more, I had no clue I could borrow one).

Even the purchase of the cutter was somewhat humiliating. The salesperson offered to just leave the ticket open since we were scrapping there in the store in case I wanted to buy anything else. I quickly thanked her but declined, knowing that I had nothing more to spend. I watched for the rest of the evening as everyone else would pop over to the cute papers, stamps, etc. to accessorize their various pages - all of which put my sad efforts to shame.

So, I bowed my head and went to work. Right after I opened my paper cutter I found out you could borrow one (thank you for the chorus of repetition). I started doing my poor girl scrapping - working on my titles and trimming my pictures. Man, it was like junior high all over again. I felt like I was sitting there in my hand-me-down clothes that never quite fit right with my really bad haircut - an attempt at the wings. Come on, you people that remember the late 80's know what I'm talking about. I felt ashamed even as I sat there - ashamed that I felt so strongly about all of this.

Then God reminded me of something - who I am does not rest in how much money I have. I am a child of the King. My identity is all wrapped up in who my Father is. I have nothing to prove. Let me just say again that none of my inadequate feelings resulted from anything any of these ladies did. It was my perception of what they would think of me that caused my misery.

Ultimately, the conversation opened up, and everyone interacted together. I picked up some new ideas that I can do even without fancy tools, and I was able to share some techniques that they had never considered. It seems that necessity really can be the mother of invention.

I suppose you can take from my experience whatever you wish. What I gained was a new respect for my friends as I opened up to share something very personal to me. I realized that it is hard to step out of my comfort zone but so rewarding. It reminded me that Papa is with me no matter how alone I feel even in the midst of a crowd. And, I learned that I should always remember in whom my identity lies!

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Watch Where You Drip That Paint

Have you ever tried to paint a very detailed item with a brush that was too large for the project? I have made that very mistake and more than once. I convinced myself that if I was careful I could paint that small detail-work with a larger brush so I would save myself a trip to the local hardware store and a dollar in the process. What I quickly discovered was the gas money and cost of the smaller paintbrush would have saved me the infinitely more costly heartache that I suffered for taking my shortcut.

I said all of that to say this: I had a conversation recently where someone used a very broad brush to paint an entire profession. In fact, I had to extricate myself from the discussion in a less than delicate fashion in order to prevent my mouth from eating my foot by saying something I would regret later.

I was told of a potential miracle cure for a very serious illness. I sceptically asked the person if it was so effective why we have never heard about it. I was told that it was an herb and doctors are only interested in pushing pills to make a profit. In fact, doctors are making so much money that all they do is prey on the illnesses of poor, unsuspecting patients and get them "hooked on pills so they have to come back once a week, or month, or 3 months."

My response to this statement was to give the example of a dear friend of mine who has been offered a top spot at a hospital, but she turned it down to go to Africa to treat children with AIDS instead. In addition, I reminded this person of the fact that Father had used a medical practitioner to help us conceive our daughter. It was quickly pointed out that the doctor made a tidy sum for his help.

Now, I realize that there are physicians who are not altruistic in their approach to practicing medicine. I also recognize that not all of them are profit-seeking despots searching out opportunities to prey on the weak. You cannot categorize such a distinctly detailed issue with the hasty generalization used by my friend. After all, does one bad apple really ruin the whole bunch?

If I buy into the fallacy that all doctors are evil, gold-digging tyrants, then I negate all of the admirable qualities held by so many of our healthcare professionals. As to their making a profit at my expense, I choose to seek their treatment and counsel; therefore, I must pay their fees. Besides, have you checked on the cost of getting a medical degree? These individuals spend tens of thousands of dollars to pay for their education. Not to mention the years studying and working for nothing before they can even begin making a living at what they do.

Again, I am not naive enough to believe that all of our doctors are noble, selfless servants. At the same time, neither are they all self-seeking, egocentric profiteers. You cannot paint so intricately with such a broad brush. After all, if my daughter decides to pursue the medical profession, I can say with assurance that she will not be doing it out of selfishness and desire for gain.

It goes back to a post I wrote several weeks ago about putting others into a box. After all, saying that I am a mother does not categorize the totality of my being. In the same way, having a PhD following your name does not completely explain who that person is as an individual. The character of the person will determine the manner in which he pursues his chosen profession. That is true of everyone from physicians and lawyers to mechanics and homemakers.

I know that I will think more carefully next time I am tempted to pull out my paintbrush of judgment. Should I judge an entire profession by the acts of a few individuals? Let us consider that though it may seem logical at the time - faster and more efficient - to use that broad brush, more likely than not, it will cause us infinitely more time and trouble to clean up the mess we make in our haste. Our disparaging remarks affect others - they are painful, often more so than a slap to the face or a kick in the shin.

I do not use this scripture often because I think it is overused in many cases. However, it is perfectly applicable to this situation. Jesus tells us in Matthew 7:1-2:

¹Judge not, that you be not judged. ²For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you.

So, next time we decide to sling some paint with that broad brush of ours let's stop to consider this thought: Some of the paint you sling may wind up on you.

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I Want It My Way

Selfishness. I battle against it in varying degrees. Sometimes the fighting is fierce, and other times it wanes to small skirmishes. Selfishness. It seeps into the cracks of my soul and mars what might otherwise be successful endeavors. It is silent, and in many cases overlooked. Sometimes, it is even applauded by others.

My daughter is very vocal when she feels she is not getting her way. At times, she launches into a barrage of whiny requests wearing me thin until I am left clinging to the last vestiges of my resolve like a drowning man to a life raft.

I tend to be a little more passive aggressive in my disputes. I am no less resolute or determined than my daughter, but my plan of attack differs. It seems to be easy to justify my desires in some form or fashion. So many times in this journey I find that justification of my plans or wishes means nullification of Father's.

I discover daily that the more I relinquish the things I hold dear and trust Papa to care for me, the weaker Selfishness becomes. It is a never-ending juxtaposition of my will versus my Father's will. Some days, I succeed in submission, and others I fail miserably. However, I pray that I am learning from each successive experience because the triumphs of Selfishness equate to inability, or even worse, refusal to hear God's voice.

I love I Corinthians 13. It paints a beautiful portrait of our Father. However, it also harshly demonstrates how little like Him I am at most times. Lately, Papa has used I Corinthians 13:4-8 as a remonstrance for me:

⁴Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant ⁵or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; ⁶it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. ⁸Love never ends.

Those words represent the love that Papa has shown to me. They also represent the brand of love I should be showing to others.

By nature, I am a social person. I enjoy interaction with others. I thrive on relationships. However, through experiences of pain I had learned to be satisfied with my family. I had, for the most part, closed myself off from outside relationships. Slowly and with a great deal of prodding, Father is changing that fact.

As He loves me perfectly each day, and I reciprocate that love to Him, I begin to once again view others through His eyes, seeing the beauty and opportunity for shared joy and pain. I no longer see others as projects for my ministry. I view each individual as a potential friend and fellow member of Father's family.

As a result, I grow in the ability to lay aside Selfishness to touch the hearts of those who are hurting and to have my heart touched in return. The particular verse that has resounded like a bass drum in my heart these last few days is I Corinthians 13:5, "It does not insist on its own way." If that is not a shot at selfishness taken with pinpoint accuracy, well, I haven't a clue what is.

So, I have made it my goal to be intentional in relationships with others even to the point of doing things that do not necessarily represent my deepest felt loves in life, even some things that I do not enjoy in the least. All of this is an effort to obliterate, nullify, if you will, Selfishness.

The fact is, the further I remove myself from this Selfishness that plagues me, the closer I draw to my Father's arms. And that, my friend, is where I want to live this journey - safely ensconced in Papa's arms.

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Wrong Way Down Right Street

We went for another bike ride today. I am just beyond excited that we are able to do this. Today we hit a little snag though. We came to an intersection, and for the life of me, I could not remember whether we were supposed to turn left or right. I'm not that familiar with the "construction detour route," so, we took a guess and turned right. About 1/4 mile later we realized we had gone the wrong way on Wright St.

We quickly turned around and got back on track. We made it to the park and had lots of fun!

Now, it won't take me long to draw the parallel for you in this particular scenario. We were on the right street, but we went the wrong way. At times, the same can be said of our walk with Jesus.

We start walking down the narrow way with Him when all of a sudden we turn around and realize that we are on the right path but somehow are going in the wrong direction. Take heart, a course correction is not the end of the world. Papa does not expect perfection, which is excellent news for us since we would fail miserably every time.

I would caution you, however, to learn from your mistake(s). If you do not acknowledge them and determine in your heart to improve, you are destined to repeat the same foolish decisions time and again. Father will let you walk around the same mountain as many times as required to facilitate the changes He knows are necessary in your life.

Father does not force His will upon us, but He does want to draw us closer in relationship to Him. Sometimes, that necessitates a little change in our lives. Personally, I am never happier than when I submit and surrender. It makes the journey more pleasurable all the way around!

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Give 'Til It Stops Hurting

How much can $2 buy today? Well, without a coupon or a sale the answer is, not much. Where I live, it cannot buy a gallon of milk or a gallon of gas. It might buy a loaf of bread if you are lucky. Sometimes you can get a box of cereal for $2, but not often. The fact is that had you asked me when I woke up this morning how much $2 would buy, I would have said, "Next to nothing."

I ran into the grocery store to pick up a few things after our Sunday morning service. I was in a bit of a hurry - trying to get home to give my little one some lunch so she could get a nap before we head out for a special service this evening. We normally do not attend a Sunday evening service, but we are raising money for my husband to go on a missions trip to New Orleans next month. Following the special "concert" tonight we are having a bake sale to support that missions endeavor. In any case, I was in a hurry.

When I walked up to the register to check out, there was a young mother with two children. One was about my daughter's age - maybe a little older. The mother was fumbling through her change purse trying to count out enough money for her purchase. She seemed flustered and a bit embarrassed because she did not have enough money.

Now, let me say that I very rarely have any cash in my purse. I suppose I am a child of the digital age. Our funds are put into the bank via direct deposit, and plastic is our mode of currency. In this instance, I just happened to have a couple of dollars in my purse left over from parking money used last time we took my daughter to the doctor. I almost gave those two dollars in our benevolence offering this morning, but I was on stage with a guitar slung across my shoulder. So, I opted not to make a fuss about giving my two little dollars.

Back to the checkout line. I asked the cashier, "How much does she need?" The response was $1.73. I quickly pulled out my $2 and handed it to the cashier. She put the money in the register and tried to hand the change back to me. I told her to give it to the young woman. She smiled and thanked me, took her two little ones and left the store.

Now, ask me how much $2 can buy. I have no idea what it bought that young woman. I know it gave me the most wonderful feeling I have had in days. With Father's help it gave me the realization that no matter how little I have to give, it is more than enough in His hands. That $2 was not going to pay my electric bill. It would not have put gas in my car, but it gave someone else exactly what she needed when she needed it.

Isn't that how Papa works? He puts us all in situations where only His impeccable timing can account for the way events unfold. I believe that I needed to give that $2 even more than that woman needed to receive it. Sometimes it does us more good to make a sacrifice whether it be finances, time or otherwise than it does the person or people for whom we sacrifice.

You know I always laugh a little bit to myself when an offering is taken and the person in charge says, "Every dollar counts." Oh, I know it is true, but I also know that most of the time that same person is wondering how many $100, $500 or $1000 gifts are going to be given. When I worked outside the home, I used to love being able to be one of those people who could give $100 or more. Now, I no longer have the ability to do that. But I rediscovered today that Papa can do more with $2 than any investment banker I know.

So, next time you think you do not have enough to give, don't bet on it. Give when Papa provides the opportunity. Money is only one way we give, and even then, it's not worth much if it is not given in love. That's why I say, "Give 'till it stops hurting." You see, as soon as you allow Father to move upon your heart to give in the way He wants, it won't hurt at all. Besides, you never know what $2 will get you, even in today's economy!!

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