OK, so this morning, my devotion was on trials. (Thanks to Lisa for my book). It's been sort of a theme in the book for a month or so, and given the month I have had, oddly appropriate. I was thinking to myself after reading it that I was a little tired of having to be reminded of trials as a constant in my life. Like, really, really over it. I was just wishing I could start my morning with a warm fuzzy rather than a cold sandpapery, and I was really hoping that it wasn't setting me up for the day...
So, I get in the car to go to work, and the sunrise was AMAZING. I was thanking God and thinking about how beautiful it was, and it hit me that it wouldn't have been nearly as pretty without all the clouds. And then I got to thinking about clouds being a symbol of trouble and such, (shameless add; looking at them from both sides now) and I saw that the glory of the light shining through was so much more amplified by the "trouble" that attempted to drown it out. (And at this point you are thinking you are REALLY thankful you don't live in my head, and I can accept that). I kept staring at them all the way down the 15, and as I got closer to work, there were more and more clouds that were low, (Then I started singing old Temeculi-Temecula songs about "sunshine through the mist", and started to annoy myself so I stopped) Finally it just turned into fog that enveloped the immediate area and it hit me that those poor Tmec people didn't get to see the trouble or the glory at all, they were just stuck in the mire. The reality of the fact that I got to see something mere minutes earlier that they were robbed of made me sorta sad.
I really tried to find the good in the fog, but I couldn't. There wasn't anything helpful or beautiful about it, and while its cousin "cloud trouble" was losing its battle to shield the light above, the fog was doing a pretty good job of it. Was it trying to be a "trouble" too? It was entirely different. It was deadness, silence, nothingness. The absence of light and glory. Nothing about it was alive and vibrant. It just "was". Ick.
As the day went on, I realized that God wanted me to remember that there ARE all sorts of things that try to mask His glory and light. And depending on your perspective, sometimes it actually works. The fog was pretty adept at it. The clouds, not so much. They only served to show that if your perspective is right, you see Him MORE than you see the trouble, and the trouble actually makes Him more appealing.
I know that the clouds show up from time to time, and most of the time it seems for me, pretty cloudy, but it still has its glory mornings.
I believe that choosing not to live in the fog should be a priority. I feel like I have been given a brain and a spirit to help control over whether I live under the fog, or move out from under it. And there's where I find myself today. I am praying for God to tell me if I should be rising up and out so I can see His glory, or staying put and only hearing the story of the beautiful sunrise happening above. I believe it's better to be up where there's weather and things happening, than stuck in the mire of nothingness and oppression. I could miss it altogether if I am not quick to discern and apply.
I am not going to watch the weather report tonight. Tomorrow will bring what it brings. Apparently, my book is better at telling the weather than they are on channel 7.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
It's semantics really...
Saw an interesting discussion this week on whining and complaining. Since things like that cause me to ponder incessantly, and sometimes needlessly, I know I gave it much more thought than most "normal" people would have. (More on that quote in a later post)
In an attempt to sort it out in my head, I decided to add to my "blogdom" and spew a few thoughts about the pair.
First let me say that I don't believe anyone over the age of 8 can functionally whine. I mean, I guess they CAN, but honestly, I think they know this is ineffective, so they really don't attempt it. I have seen (er, heard) these people do it, but I would venture to say that they are probably joking, reiterating an interaction with a child, or merely passing by on the way to an un-annoying tambour.
Now, I believe that people can "perceive" that someone is whining, but since we all don't have the exact same diagnostic skills, labeling someone as a whiner is truly just an expression of your own opinion. How do you know that I would think they were whining? You don't. So don't tell me how I am to perceive them.
Complaining is a really fine line as well, because there are thousands of interpretations of an "acceptable way to complain". I think most people will label others as having complaints or complainers if they don't agree with THEM. That's sad, because probably there is someone else that would point out the exact same issue, and they also would look at it as an observable feature that needs correcting. Since they agree with the "complainer" it would quickly become a topic, and not a complaint. They might be able to work together for the greater good, and a favorable outcome could be reached.
I believe anyone that brings up "what some would perceive as a complaint but others would look at as an observable feature that needs correcting" has a right to be heard. I do not believe that they need to bring a solution because often times they aren't in a position to solve the problem, and are bringing their grievance to someone who can.
I will always listen to someone who brings an issue to me. Sometimes I can fix it, sometimes I can't, but I can't make a determination that I am not going to listen or help based on their modality of expressing the thought. How pompous it would be of me to turn away someone that may only know how to whine or complain to express thought, frustration, or sensitivity. How do I know that wasn't a survival tactic for them all of their life? How can I shut out the opportunity to minister and help because I don't want to be "annoyed"? Argh!
I can say with certainty that I have brought complaints to God on several occasions. And it's possible that at some point my cry for help resembled whining in some instances. I can also say for certain that I didn't have solutions to those issues. I am very happy that He still listens to me and wants to help. He calls me to trust when I don't understand the wilderness and when I want to cry and give up. I have to focus on the trust, and He can handle it if I lapse in my adeptness at conveying the thought, frustration, or sensitivity.
It's really a matter of semantics, but mostly it's a matter of wanting to see people as God does. To remember that He loved them first, in the muck and mire in which they came, and He really, really wants me to do the same. Did He pull me out of my icky stuff for me to never help anyone with theirs? I don't think so. So people, complain away. I'm practicing listening in love and understanding why your heart is hurting. I think that's what Jesus would do!
In an attempt to sort it out in my head, I decided to add to my "blogdom" and spew a few thoughts about the pair.
First let me say that I don't believe anyone over the age of 8 can functionally whine. I mean, I guess they CAN, but honestly, I think they know this is ineffective, so they really don't attempt it. I have seen (er, heard) these people do it, but I would venture to say that they are probably joking, reiterating an interaction with a child, or merely passing by on the way to an un-annoying tambour.
Now, I believe that people can "perceive" that someone is whining, but since we all don't have the exact same diagnostic skills, labeling someone as a whiner is truly just an expression of your own opinion. How do you know that I would think they were whining? You don't. So don't tell me how I am to perceive them.
Complaining is a really fine line as well, because there are thousands of interpretations of an "acceptable way to complain". I think most people will label others as having complaints or complainers if they don't agree with THEM. That's sad, because probably there is someone else that would point out the exact same issue, and they also would look at it as an observable feature that needs correcting. Since they agree with the "complainer" it would quickly become a topic, and not a complaint. They might be able to work together for the greater good, and a favorable outcome could be reached.
I believe anyone that brings up "what some would perceive as a complaint but others would look at as an observable feature that needs correcting" has a right to be heard. I do not believe that they need to bring a solution because often times they aren't in a position to solve the problem, and are bringing their grievance to someone who can.
I will always listen to someone who brings an issue to me. Sometimes I can fix it, sometimes I can't, but I can't make a determination that I am not going to listen or help based on their modality of expressing the thought. How pompous it would be of me to turn away someone that may only know how to whine or complain to express thought, frustration, or sensitivity. How do I know that wasn't a survival tactic for them all of their life? How can I shut out the opportunity to minister and help because I don't want to be "annoyed"? Argh!
I can say with certainty that I have brought complaints to God on several occasions. And it's possible that at some point my cry for help resembled whining in some instances. I can also say for certain that I didn't have solutions to those issues. I am very happy that He still listens to me and wants to help. He calls me to trust when I don't understand the wilderness and when I want to cry and give up. I have to focus on the trust, and He can handle it if I lapse in my adeptness at conveying the thought, frustration, or sensitivity.
It's really a matter of semantics, but mostly it's a matter of wanting to see people as God does. To remember that He loved them first, in the muck and mire in which they came, and He really, really wants me to do the same. Did He pull me out of my icky stuff for me to never help anyone with theirs? I don't think so. So people, complain away. I'm practicing listening in love and understanding why your heart is hurting. I think that's what Jesus would do!
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Last Few Hours of Summer
A couple of days ago Sue said to me, "You're the ONLY person I know that bakes in the summer." I think that's a sad statement in a couple of ways. A. That means the only person that can supply her with baked yumminess in the dog days of summer is ME (that's a lot of pressure) and B. Really the only time I have to bake is IN the summer, since I get home from work, I make dinner, and am too tired to bake the other 3 seasons of the year.
(This sidenote brings me to the whole Julia and Julia movie, where the heroine actually DOES seem to have a full time job, and comes home to a different FRENCH-ish recipe every night. Somehow that makes me feel really inferior.)
As I sit here today in the last few hours of my perceived "freedom" wondering if I should make some oat and chocolate cookies or some butterscotch cupcakes, I feel like I'm being robbed of creating for another 10 months. I keep looking outside, knowing it's going to be 110 degrees, and I am thinking of heating the oven? Really? I am trapped between trying to squeeze in one last round of deliciousness and the busy preparations for another year of school.
I don't know what I want to define me, really. I know that yesterday was weird cosmic cross-section of my teaching life. It was one of those days that made me realize that teaching has enabled me to relate to people I might not otherwise would have known. It has enabled me to share in their joys and their pains, in their futures and their ends, in their "dependences" and the "independences", their recreation times and their career times. I also don't know how it's possible to have so many present and former students I am proud of at all at once.
I hope that I take seriously the charge of praying for them all as God directs. I probably couldn't make cookies and pies and cupcakes for each and every one. Feeding them physically would be a sign of caring, no doubt. Actually I have said that to many of the kids, "I will take you home, love you, and feed you cookies." But feeding them spiritually is a whole other round of ingredients. How do I go into another year and let my faith be evident enough to plant those seeds? How do I show another 120 kids the love of Christ?
I suppose it does tie in really... the potential I see in those adorable faces to become everything that they are designed for is exactly the same as the chocolate chips in my cupboard. It's exciting to wonder what they will become. And while I have a bit of human control over the sugar and eggs, directing it to come together into something wonderful, I have to relinquish control of the kids to God. I need to merely be the shelf that they sit on for awhile, while God directs their outcome. So a sturdy shelf I shall be. God give me the ability to be a place of rest, coolness, and anticipation.
I have avoided baking today. I am concentrating and praying and thinking about the year ahead. I guess, I am "preheating my oven".
Gotta set the timer. T- 10 months.
(This sidenote brings me to the whole Julia and Julia movie, where the heroine actually DOES seem to have a full time job, and comes home to a different FRENCH-ish recipe every night. Somehow that makes me feel really inferior.)
As I sit here today in the last few hours of my perceived "freedom" wondering if I should make some oat and chocolate cookies or some butterscotch cupcakes, I feel like I'm being robbed of creating for another 10 months. I keep looking outside, knowing it's going to be 110 degrees, and I am thinking of heating the oven? Really? I am trapped between trying to squeeze in one last round of deliciousness and the busy preparations for another year of school.
I don't know what I want to define me, really. I know that yesterday was weird cosmic cross-section of my teaching life. It was one of those days that made me realize that teaching has enabled me to relate to people I might not otherwise would have known. It has enabled me to share in their joys and their pains, in their futures and their ends, in their "dependences" and the "independences", their recreation times and their career times. I also don't know how it's possible to have so many present and former students I am proud of at all at once.
I hope that I take seriously the charge of praying for them all as God directs. I probably couldn't make cookies and pies and cupcakes for each and every one. Feeding them physically would be a sign of caring, no doubt. Actually I have said that to many of the kids, "I will take you home, love you, and feed you cookies." But feeding them spiritually is a whole other round of ingredients. How do I go into another year and let my faith be evident enough to plant those seeds? How do I show another 120 kids the love of Christ?
I suppose it does tie in really... the potential I see in those adorable faces to become everything that they are designed for is exactly the same as the chocolate chips in my cupboard. It's exciting to wonder what they will become. And while I have a bit of human control over the sugar and eggs, directing it to come together into something wonderful, I have to relinquish control of the kids to God. I need to merely be the shelf that they sit on for awhile, while God directs their outcome. So a sturdy shelf I shall be. God give me the ability to be a place of rest, coolness, and anticipation.
I have avoided baking today. I am concentrating and praying and thinking about the year ahead. I guess, I am "preheating my oven".
Gotta set the timer. T- 10 months.
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