When the big things work out…

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on No Comments

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. [Psalm 23:4-6]

When I was young, I used to go to a tanning salon…let me rephrase that…a very questionable shack connected to someone’s house with a tanning bed in it. The tanning bed worked fine, except for the timer. There was a chair in the room with a kitchen timer on it, and that was what was used so you didn’t spend too long in the “oven.” One time I arrived at the place, and no one was there, but the owner allowed people to just go in and use the tanning bed even if she wasn’t home. I didn’t usually use the timer, but I went ahead and cranked it over to 20 minutes before laying down. After a few minutes in the bed, my mind wandered to all sorts of thoughts, and before I knew it, I was sound asleep. A moment later, I woke to the obnoxious sound of the timer ringing two feet from my head. I have been thankful for years that I didn’t cook that day.

While I was in college, I drove an older car that had its share of issues, but it typically got me from point A to point B without much trouble. One Friday night, I had traveled about 300 miles to visit friends in another state, and when I returned on that Sunday, I made a couple of stops along the way for gas or snacks. When I returned to campus, I pulled into the driveway at my friend’s house and went inside to visit her and others that lived there. I went back out to the car to go to my dorm, and the car wouldn’t start. The starter had died. Though it wasn’t a cheap fix, I was thankful it didn’t quit on one of those stops during my travels.

The light went out, again.

When I was a sophomore in college, I had the opportunity to attend a May term in France for three weeks; it was a memorable trip in many ways. One incident I had wished to forget involved the motel where our group stayed and a rather immodest, indecent guest. A group of about six of us returned to the motel late one night and discovered a nude Frenchman wandering the halls. He seemed to have disappeared to his own room, we assumed, and then a couple of us went back into the hall to go use the showers, which had their own entrances from the hallway around the corner from our rooms. I was about to step into the shower when the light went out. Since it was late, I assumed that I had forgotten to lock the door; the showers were equipped with automatic lights that turned off after the door was unlocked for a number of seconds. After locking the door, I stepped into the shower and proceeded to lather up the bar of soap. The light went out, again. Realizing in a split second that the door was moving slowly open, I slammed my soapy body into it with all of my strength and relocked the door. I shouted repeatedly and stood there bracing the door, trembling but determined that it would not open again. After several minutes of shouting, I dressed in every piece of clothing I had in there with me, and finally built up the nerve to return to the room that I shared with two other girls on the trip. No one was in the hallway as I ran to the room and fumbled with the keypad to gain access inside. I was a sight, my hair still dripping and my clothes clinging to my soap-covered body. My friends looked at me and said, “What’s wrong?” I explained what had happened, and one of them said that she had entered the shower next door to mine, but had returned to the room to get something, and saw the nude man wandering the hall again, so she decided not to shower that night. I was just thankful that I returned safely to the room unscathed.

…without my faith, those other events could have destroyed me…

Many difficult situations have arisen in my life, and I have had to face them like everyone else has. The incidents that I have written about here turned out much better than they could have, and like I said, not all of my life events have had such desirable results. The point is, without my faith, those other events could have destroyed me, as could these had they turned out differently. I am thankful to be here today to share my stories and what I have learned. Please share something you have learned from an event in your life in the comments.

When those little things work out…

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on No Comments

29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. 30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. [Matthew 10:29-31]

One time when I left the grocery store a few years ago, I had decided to also grab a movie to watch. I selected one from the kiosk and proceeded to the car with my son and the groceries. After unloading the groceries into the car, my son and I got in and headed out to pick up one of his friends a couple of miles away. While situating backpacks and groceries in the trunk, it occurred to me that I didn’t know where the movie was. I inspected all of the grocery bags, but it was nowhere to be found. I asked my son if he’d seen it, but he hadn’t either. We returned to the grocery store, and I located the cart I had recently parked in the cart collection area, and there was the movie–leaning against the side in such a manner that it blended in with its surroundings. I was so thankful that someone hadn’t seen it and taken it.

When I was in college, I drove a smallish mid-80’s station wagon that had a roof rack. I used to travel from state to state visiting friends during breaks, and one time when I had stopped for gas, I inadvertently had left the gas cap on top of the car. About 200 miles later, I had stopped for gas again, opened the gas door and was surprised to see the gas cap was missing. For a moment, I worried that I’d left it at that gas station in another state, but then it instantly hit me to check the roof. I slid my hand along the edge of the roof rack back to the crosspiece that ran perpendicular to it, and there, wedged into the corner, was my gas cap. I was so thankful I didn’t have to figure out how to replace it on the road or back at school.

…ponder all those times that the event didn’t happen.

My son has a habit of putting things in unconventional places, and more than once, he has placed his wallet in the space between the left rear view mirror and the driver’s door. One time when I happened to be riding with him, he had driven about ten miles down the highway before he suddenly realized it was still out there, wedged in. Thankfully, he was able to pull over and retrieve it before it became litter along the roadside. Ironically, we once found someone’s wallet beside the road and were able to return it to him. The man was extremely grateful. Somehow, I don’t think my son’s wallet would’ve been returned if he’d lost it by the highway in that area!

We have lost things on occasion from leaving them on the vehicle as well, like a pair of gloves left on the rear bumper and one of my son’s skis from the bed of the truck–though that is where we transported them, not that we’d left it there by accident. We had hit a substantial pothole and the one ski had apparently flown out unbeknownst to us, but after several days of searching and putting up posters about the lost ski, someone contacted us about his finding it, and we were able to get it back. We never found the gloves.

God shows me that He is just that omniscient and powerful to know about every little thing in my life, no matter how trivial I think it may be.

I think the real lesson is to ponder all those times that the event didn’t happen. How many times have I remembered my keys rather than locking them in the vehicle? How many times have I passed through traffic unscathed rather than that time that I waited for hours in gridlock? It helps me to shift my focus to the longevity of what I take for granted as normal; it helps me to put those trifling nuisances into perspective.

Though I prefer things to be easy, believing that God knows what He’s up to helps when they’re not.

When I start thinking that those little things don’t matter to God, He shows me that He is just that omniscient and powerful to know about every little thing in my life, no matter how trivial I think it may be. And even when things don’t go according to my plan, He is using those events, those details, those frustrations as part of a picture so much larger and more complex than I can ever imagine. So it’s not my place to worry; I only have to live and trust. Though I prefer things to be easy, believing that God knows what He’s up to helps when they’re not.

Praying for patience

by BetsyFaith, LifePosted on One Comment

Who actually ever prays for patience? I don’t know why anyone would–the ordeals in which we learn patience are not anything anyone in their right mind would ever ask to endure. In my experience, being patient and waiting are two different concepts. I would define patience as “waiting gracefully.” Everyone might not agree with that definition, but that’s my perception.

I remember hearing that story as a youngster and thinking such an experience would be unbearable.

When I began my journey into parenthood alone, I truly anticipated that at some point I would meet someone who would share that responsibility with me. But as time wore on, it became more and more obvious that that was not going to happen. When seven years had passed, I thought of Jacob working for seven years for the right to marry his love, Rachel, only to find that he had to marry her older sister, Leah, and work seven more years in order to marry Rachel (Genesis 29). I remember hearing that story as a youngster and thinking such an experience would be unbearable.

“Hey, I never asked to learn patience.”

I had always wanted to have several children, and preferably close in age, so that they would hopefully be close in relationship. I gave up on the “close in age” part as my son approached the age of eight, but I continued to hope that the right someone would eventually appear on the scene, and perhaps we would be able to expand our family. By the time the second seven years had passed, I had begun to lose hope, and I reflected, “Hey, I never asked to learn patience.” Yet there I was, still waiting, with as much grace as I could muster, too.

…without hope, patience is futile.

I began to question what purpose all the waiting could fulfill; I still don’t know why, but I have learned somewhere along this path that without hope, patience is futile. I had had hope all that time that my family would be completed at some point, but when life didn’t turn out how I’d always imagined, I began to lose hope. I can’t explain all of the transitions that took place, but somehow in the process, my entire outlook shifted. I had been patiently waiting for a couple of decades, and suddenly I realized I was just living, not waiting. The change had happened so subtly that I hadn’t even noticed it was taking place.

It takes me a while to adjust to new circumstances and new ideas, so perhaps accepting the massive change in my dreams for my life needed to be spread out over many years. This is where my faith comes in. Without it, I’d have had no hope, and even when my hope waned, my faith is what sustained me. My plans of marrying and having a large family have not been fulfilled; I have been able to interact with hundreds of kids in my career as a teacher, however, and I have to believe that this is my calling. I have managed to let go of how I thought my life should go, and embrace the novelty of each day not knowing what the big picture is, but it’s okay. And I will be patient as the future unfolds.

“…we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces patience, and patience produces character, and character, hope.” Romans 5:3-5

A time to wait…

by BetsyFaithPosted on 3 Comments

Although I know that my performance does not determine my worth, I am convinced it will continue to be a struggle for me to live like I believe it. Last year, I moved away from my long-time hometown. Adapting to a new area where I have no bearings has been quite the adjustment. While I didn’t have a steady job, I struggled with identifying my purpose and the direction I should be pursuing in my career.

I struggled with identifying my purpose and the direction I should be pursuing in my career.

Each time I thought I was making a right decision, I ended up in a job that was not a good fit. I was accepting offers out of desperation–the need to feel valuable, to have a sense of purpose. I was able to walk away from the first ill-fitting position, and once I realized that the second one was not for me either, I prepared to give my notice. However, the situation had already been taken into account by the powers that be, and even if I’d had any second thoughts about staying, the Lord closed that door because the place was shut down at the same time that I had planned to leave.

The decision now came down to choosing out of abundance as opposed to desperation.

For two more months, I hunted and struggled and planned and prayed, and slowly whittled away what little profit I had had from selling my home of 17 years. I had more interviews and even an offer that was similar to the first two positions that weren’t right for me, but having finally learned something, I turned it down even though it was the only offer on the table, and I was more desperate than ever to have an income. Then, all of a sudden I had an offer for a part-time position followed by two full-time positions–all of which I felt very comfortable accepting. The decision now came down to choosing out of abundance as opposed to desperation.

My mind wandered back to a year ago when I knew it was time to move after years of anticipating the move. I wondered if maybe I had gotten it wrong. Maybe I had rushed the process and should have waited until this year. But I knew that the timing had been right. Looking back on this year of job and income inconsistencies and personal struggles with purpose and direction, one might think that this was a wasted year. But it wasn’t. My outlook has evolved, and I have learned so much about where I am now in my life, both physically and mentally. This year didn’t allow me to produce much from a worldly perspective, but I have found strength and understanding that I could not have obtained any other way.

His timing is perfect regardless of my plans; I can’t mess up His plan!

I recently read a verse a friend had posted–let me rephrase that. I recently MISREAD a verse a friend had posted: I waited impatiently for the Lord to help me, and He turned to me and heard my cry (Psalm 40:1). When I realized that David had written “patiently,” not impatiently, I had to smile at my error and the fact that it wouldn’t have mattered if David had waited impatiently, because the Lord’s faithfulness doesn’t depend on our perception. I was impatient for circumstances to work out, but He still worked in my life through the process. Would it have been any different if I’d been patient? Probably not. His timing is perfect regardless of my plans; I can’t mess up His plan! And yes, I am probably just a little more sure of that now than I was a year ago.

Take me to church…

by BetsyFaith, ParentingPosted on No Comments

Recently, my young adult son relayed a conversation to me that he had had with an older adult male regarding attending church. They were discussing how they felt the need to be role models in their homes and be leaders when it comes to establishing habits like regular church attendance. I am thankful for the mature males in the church who have been role models for my son as he was growing up since there was no male role model in our home.

I still cringe for a moment when I hear a commotion in the next room because for years it was my son causing the disturbance.

As a single mother, it’s truly challenging to fulfill all of the needs of a child, and in my experience, particularly when it comes to spiritual roles. Although it wasn’t always what I wanted to do on Sunday morning, most of the time I packed up my son and his shenanigans and headed to church. He was always a handful, and to this day, I still cringe for a moment when I hear a commotion in the next room because for years it was my son causing the disturbance. My church family was gracious to us, however, and though I always felt terrible for my child’s behavior, they came along side of us and continued to encourage and support us week after week.

Despite the distractions and the frustrations, I continued to take him to church, hoping that doing so would eventually bear fruit. I kept going back to the Word, reading where it exhorts Christians not to forsake assembling together (Hebrews 10:25) and to train up children in the right direction (Proverbs 22:6). These are long-term, seed-planting acts that don’t necessarily reveal their worth in the short-term, but as my son has entered adulthood, I have begun to see the positive results of raising him in the church.

…we embrace the fact that Christ died to redeem us from our sins, we repent, and we are consequently forgiven.

It isn’t to say that every young person raised in the church avoids trouble. I honestly didn’t know if we were going to survive my son’s teen years. Without going into too much detail, I’ll just say that red Gatorade mixed with vodka has stained my living room carpet, and I’ve had conversations with the police regarding the paintballing of one of their cruisers, just to name a couple memorable moments. Life certainly isn’t perfect because we’re Christians, and we go to church. We make mistakes like everyone else. In addition, we embrace the fact that Christ died to redeem us from our sins, we repent, and we are consequently forgiven.

It’s about the importance of building one another up and being accountable as we worship together.

It’s never been the case that going to church saves one’s soul or prevents anything from going awry throughout the week. It’s about the importance of building one another up and being accountable as we worship together. During those periods of my life when I have gotten out of the habit of attending, however, I have witnessed a general falling off of my own constructive habits for not necessarily destructive ones, but definitely for less constructive ones. Being consistent in attendance helps me to stay on track in my Christian walk, and I know now that it has had a positive impact on my son’s life.

But what if I can fly…

by BetsyFaithPosted on No Comments

I really don’t like how moods affect my outlook. Sometimes it seems like I can accomplish anything, and other days, I ask myself when it became so difficult to get out of bed. I have tried on occasion to take a mental inventory of where I am in those great moments of optimism and strength, attempting to “bottle” it in my mind for later. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Inevitably, I end up again in the land of pessimism with an empty bottle and no recollection of what was in it.

When my son was younger, I took pride in the fact that I could participate in activities with him. Prevailing against my own fears and concerns for my aging physique, I shrieked my way down water slides and hiked mountains that left me aching for days. One water slide was called the Stealth V. It looked intimidating to me, and my son was even visibly shaken after experiencing it, which shook my resolve even further. He came running up to me, dripping from the drain pool at the bottom, and said, “Mom, you’ve got to try this! I might go again.”

…the higher I climbed, the more I regretted my accursed “no regrets” approach.

The fact that he was having second thoughts about going again was a red flag, but I have this thinking process where I convince myself I can try anything once. At least I know I gave it a shot. No regrets. I ascended the five stories of steps with a tube to ride down on, and the higher I climbed, the more I regretted my accursed “no regrets” approach. I watched as the riders in front of me disappeared over the edge of the giant V-shaped abyss, where they would cascade down one side of the V and up the other, until they came to a stop in the drain pool many yards below.

I wanted to scream, but felt the air had been sucked out of my body.

I noticed that they were basically all young people, which of course made me question my reasoning in trying this thrill ride. But it was too late. I was next. I flopped my tube on the narrow platform next to the attendant and climbed on top. The young man instructed me to hold on to both handles, and then shoved my tube over the edge. It seemed that the V dropped off at a 90-degree angle, which it really didn’t, but it felt that way to my empty lungs as I tried to inhale amidst the absence of air. I wanted to scream, but felt the air had been sucked out of my body. In that instant, I had split-second visions of my tube rolling down the side of the V, my bones cracking as I rolled with it. But somehow I stayed upright, facing downward at my fate until gravity spun my tube and I found myself staring back at the point of origin disappearing in the distance. By the time my tube began to ascend the opposite side of the V, I found my breath and let out a pitiful “Woohoo!” This was mostly out of relief that I was almost back on ground level and the knowledge that I would not put myself through that ordeal again. Yeah, I did it once. That’s all I needed.

…it’s easy to focus on the empty bottle where the optimism once was…

It’s hard to believe my Stealth V experience was about seven years ago now. Recently, I was presented with the opportunity to go urban sightseeing on an electric scooter. Having broken a few bones over the course of my life, I was slightly hesitant to try it, but after a little practice, I became somewhat comfortable balancing on it and rode for over an hour. I applied the same principle as before. I had to try it, or I would regret that I didn’t. I didn’t want the regret. The old saying that people regret more what they didn’t do in life than what they did do seems to be embedded in my psyche. When I get stuck in those valleys of depression and pessimism, it’s easy to focus on the empty bottle where the optimism once was and think, “I better not try this; what if I fall?” There is one drop left in that bottle, however, and it whispers, “But what if I can fly?”

I’ll keep stepping out in faith, believing that if God leads me to it, He’ll lead me through it.

Appropriately, those scooters are called Birds, and I did “fly.” I’ll keep stepping out in faith, believing that if God leads me to it, He’ll lead me through it. Not just the entertaining aspects of life, but anything life presents. The principle is the same, even when it doesn’t turn out how I think it should, or when it takes my breath away in the process. No regrets.

Seeking the Source

by BetsyFaithPosted on No Comments

Several years ago, I read that I would have to walk the entire length of a football field to burn off the calories from eating one M&M. If that ratio is even remotely accurate, it has had a profound effect on my eating habits, or at least the thought process that I embark upon before indulging in something decadent. Then it becomes a test of my mathematical skills and how many treats I can justify enjoying.

I have recently started working out at a gym to combat the effects of a myriad of M&M’s and other sweets that are my weakness. Forcing myself to focus on some rarely used muscles has brought some realizations to light. Over the years, I have injured myself periodically. I have broken my right elbow and my right ankle, and unrelatedly, the only teeth in my mouth that have issues are on the right side. I think it probably has something to do with my left brain being so controlling, and perhaps subconsciously trying to protect the other side. (I am posing like a thinking emoji at this point).

It’s strange to think that even after all those years, not only my body retains the memory of the injury, but my mind obviously plays a part in how I respond to it.

Although some might say it is coincidental, I believe there is more to it than happenstance. For example, I have noticed that when I work out I tend to tense up unrelated parts of my body. When I do bicep curls, for some reason I tense my left leg. In response to this realization, I began intentionally relaxing my leg when I do this exercise, but it has taken some serious focus for me to do so. In addition, when I do hamstring curls, my left leg tries to take over and do the bulk of the work. Now, this motion seems more obvious–my right leg spent some time incapacitated years ago when I broke that ankle, so my left leg tries to bear the weight, literally.

It’s strange to think that even after all those years, not only my body retains the memory of the injury, but my mind obviously plays a part in how I respond to it. Although I continue to rewire my thoughts to equalize my workout, I don’t seem to be making much progress. Habits supposedly take about a month of repetition to form, but I don’t go to the gym everyday, so I don’t seem to be changing how I respond.

Deciphering why I respond in a certain way to an impetus has helped me to make progress in other areas, or at least understand myself a little better.

Honestly, I’m none the worse for wear in that respect. Sure, one side of my body is always going to be stronger, but that’s not uncommon. This entire realization ultimately led to a deeper one. The injuries I have sustained emotionally and mentally are substantially ingrained in my mind as well, and probably much more detrimental than any physical compensation I have made. Have you ever asked yourself, “Why do I get angry when…?” or “Why do I always seem to…?” Deciphering why I respond in a certain way to an impetus has helped me to make progress in other areas, or at least understand myself a little better. For example, I began asking myself, “Why do I still feel compelled to eat everything on my plate even though I’m often full beforehand?” On the surface, I know that being forced to clean my plate when I was growing up has had an impact on my eating habits to this day. But there’s more to it than the obvious.

Upon deeper reflection, I realized I had connected performance to acceptance by certain people in my life, and somehow, eating everything on my plate was a standard I strove to meet daily for years in the subliminal hopes that I would be worthy of acceptance. This went on for years, not just 30 days. Such an established habit is difficult to undo, especially with the performing for acceptance piece woven within, through and around it. This is just one example. I have response mechanisms in place for so many aspects of my life–as all of us do. I try to address the ones that have had the most substantial negative effects.

Believing that His grace is sufficient removes the onus to “fix” everything that is awry and rest in the knowledge that He is strong and in control despite my weakness.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, God promises “My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” He doesn’t say He will perfect us here on earth; this isn’t heaven. His strength is perfected in weakness. These everyday struggles–food, acceptance, rejection, whatever fills in the blank–are the means of God weaving His strength into our lives. This beautiful enigma is both challenging and comforting. Believing that His grace is sufficient removes the onus to “fix” everything that is awry and rest in the knowledge that He is strong and in control despite my weakness. I can’t mess up His plan. Sure, I have made some poor choices, but His grace is still sufficient. I have failed to break bad habits–His grace is still sufficient. I will strive to instill the habit of relying on Him in all things–His grace is always sufficient.