Another Chance

“It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.”  Lamentations 3:22-23

When my daughter graduated from high school, her principal gave a closing address that has remained with me ever since.  After acknowledging and saluting the accomplishments of the graduating class, he said to them and to us all:  Now, you get to start over.  Nothing that you’ve done in high school matters – whether you were at the top of your class or just barely making it.  Right now, everyone has the same chance of being successful.   In effect, he said, you all get the chance to be the person that you wish to be, regardless of your past.  It does not have to determine your future.  In other words, you get a clean slate.  For me, that was profound and, what I thought, every graduating student needed to hear.

 

So my daughter went on to college.  I don’t know if the parting words of her former principal impacted her as much as they did me but I can tell you this:  the student she was in high is not the student she is in college.  She’s focused, determined and she now has purpose.  She’s proud of her accomplishments and rightfully so because she has succeeded where others have failed.  I applaud her, I celebrate her and I’m so very proud of her, too.  But more than anything, I’m grateful that she did not succumb to the desire to just give in and accept her past academic history as an indicator of the type of student she could be.  She had the courage to change and for that, I appreciate her.  Freshman year has become a defining moment for her.  Now she knows just what she is capable of achieving.  And she has become a living embodiment and illustration of her principal’s speech. 

Every day we also get another chance to get it right, according to our scripture.  New mercy and fresh forgiveness is reloaded for us every single day.  I, for one, am infinitely grateful for the many opportunities I’ve had for a “do over."  I thank God for them!  The fact that I don’t have to continue to be the person that I’ve become or continue down the path that I’ve chosen is exciting to me.  If I don’t like the direction my life has taken, I have the power to change it.  I get to do it again, I get to it over, I get do it better.  We are empowered to change.  That is good news. 

At this time of year, we especially recognize the need to change how we’ve done things in the past.  This is our fresh start. So let us move forward with purpose, keeping in mind our ultimate goal of being better people, living better lives, with a determination to be a more positive influence on those around us.  Let us resolve to impact the lives of our circle of friends, coworkers and family in such a way as to leave a legacy and a pattern for those to follow who come after us. 

So Happy New Year.  Happy New Start.  Happy New You.

Be blessed,

Loria

The Christmas Song Cover by Ell Clark

"X" Marks the Spot!

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”  (Isaiah 9:6)

A few days before Christmas and all through the house … I had no Christmas spirit!  It was depressing, actually.  I had not given in to the “spend, spend, spend, buy, buy, buy,” mentality yet but I was feeling the pressure.  A week before Christmas and I had not completed my Christmas shopping – in fact, I hadn’t even begun.  The pressure mounted but I just wasn’t feeling the whole shopping thing.  It wasn’t that I didn’t try – I went out many days with the intention of buying, only to come back empty handed.  It was incredibly frustrating.  Such a simple task, why couldn’t I just do it? I felt defeated by Christmas.  Something was wrong.

I recalled an episode of My Wife and Kids where Michael (with Damon Wayans as the father) wound up directing the school play for his youngest daughter’s class.   At the end of the production, the cast signed off with, “You put the peanut in the peanut hole!”  Michael had spent most of the episode asking what that meant but the answer was obvious, at least for the kids.  Where else would you put the peanut? 

Then I realized the true source of my angst; there was a huge, Jesus-sized hole in my holiday.  I had gotten far away from the true purpose of this day.  So how did I get it back on track?  How did I put Christ back in Christmas and reclaim this day for him and for me?  I wanted to go on the news, shout it at the mall, go up to strangers and shake them by their shoulders and say:  We’ve got it all wrong!  We’re doing it all wrong!  My Christmas was all out of whack.  It had been hijacked and I wanted it back. 

I thought about staging an intervention with my kids, to wake them up to what was going on.  Problem with that was, I think they already knew.  When my kids realized I just wasn’t enjoying myself they backed off with their Christmas requests.  My daughter, bless her heart, actually tried to help me as much as she could.  I don’t ever remember being this overwhelmed before.  I was mega stressed because of shopping and my inability to just get on with it this season.  My daughter said to me, gently, “Hey, Jesus is the reason for the season.”  To which I responded in a depressed fashion – “No, He’s not!  But he should be.”   That’s when I knew – the “Bah, Humbug” spirit was in me.  I couldn’t fix the world’s perspective but I could try to fix mine.

In the Transformers movie, there was one robot (in disguise, LOL), Bumble Bee, who couldn’t actually speak, except for in song.  Whenever he was asked a question or wanted to make a comment, he would contribute with a relevant song from his radio.  Sometimes, God speaks to me like that.  He answers me in song.  I had lost my focus and felt disconnected.  It was like a festering wound that needed healing and a brought a song to mind:  “There is a Balm in Gilead.”

So I began, very simply, by putting some Jesus on that wound.  I needed healing.  I needed to be reconnected to my source.  I found some of my favorite gospel songs, songs that really got my spirit jumping and made me want to “Praise the name of Jesus,” ala Tramaine Hawkins.  I listened to a beautiful song, full of majesty which made me want to worship – Kurt Karr’s, “Holy, Holy, Holy.”  It reminded me of why I live this life, why I do what I do and why I serve him.  Because he’s worthy.  Because he first loved me.  Because he came for me.  He came to save me before I even knew I needed a savior.  I began to sing along with Whitney Houston, “I love the Lord, he heard my cry …”

All week long as I shopped, not one cashier greeted me with “Merry Christmas!”  It was always “Happy Holidays!”  They may have been afraid to do otherwise; it's against company policy, politically incorrect, verboten, taboo.  It made me think back on my childhood, remembering the signs posted at Christmas time which read “Merry Xmas!” and “Xmas sale!” Even then, there was a movement to take the focus off of the real reason why we celebrate.  I thought it strange practice then and I still do now.  How can we have Christmas without Christ?  How can we celebrate this day, His day without inviting him in?  Yet, that is what I had done.  Something had replaced Christ in my Christmas.  I had allowed shopping and the giving of gifts to become my primary focus. 

Today, the “X” has taken on a new meaning for me.   It’s become my reminder to “insert Jesus here.”  Now, I feel much more laid back and relaxed about this holiday season.  My problem had a very obvious solution – you put the peanut in the peanut hole!  What a revelation!  Ever since I regained the proper perspective and put Jesus in his rightful place, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas …”

Be blessed,

Loria

Fail ... NOT!

“Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” (1 Corinthians 13:7 NLT) 

“Love never fails…” (1 Corinthians 13:8 NIV)

My son. He recently changed his major but put off talking to me about it. I think he was afraid I would try to talk him out of it. Over the past few months, he distanced himself from me more and more, not talking to me and becoming defensive whenever we did speak. It seemed all we did was snap at each other. There was a real disconnect. And when we finally did talk, we talked at each other, not truly hearing the other’s side. I was hurt; he was rebellious. My son said to me, “You don’t understand!” And I thought to myself, “Of course I don’t understand, you’re not talking to me.”

My son grew increasingly frustrated with me. He gave up trying to talk to me about what was going on, labeling me as another mother who just doesn’t get it. And when he did that, he gave up on me. I guess he figured this was an acceptable part of growing up – that your mom wouldn’t be able to understand or appreciate what you’re going through. He didn’t mean anything by it. He just accepted it as he saw it – kids grow up, they move on and start their own life and the parent sometimes has a hard time letting go.

Fortunately for us both, I did not consider this situation acceptable. You wanna change your major? Sure – I support you and want you to be happy. But this not talking thing? That’s never been a part of our relationship. That had to go. I told myself I would wait him out and he would talk in his own time. I told myself I didn’t want to ruin our time together by arguing about it during the Thanksgiving holiday. I tried to get away from it and ignore it but it was the elephant in the room. I tried talking around it but I felt like I was tiptoeing around my own son.

Finally, I sat down, determined to hash it out. He initially said, “What’s the point? You don’t get it! You won’t understand! There’s no point in continuing to talk about it if the end result is going to be the same!” And that’s when it clicked for me – he gave up on me, on us and our relationship as mother and son. For him, it was an acceptable loss. Not so, for me.

I told my son, “Make me understand. Talk to me until I get it. By your own definition, insanity is continuing to do the same thing but expecting a different result. I’m hoping that if we continue to talk about it, we’ll find a different way that will give us a different result.” I realized then that I wasn’t giving up on my son or, on us. Failure was not an option. I loved him enough to continue to try to reach him. Maybe I didn’t understand but I loved him enough to try. Give up? Never.

God used that conversation with my son to illustrate a point. That, right there, was our relationship with him in a nutshell. No matter what kind of blocks we can throw up to distance ourselves, he keeps coming at us. He won’t give up. The Apostle Paul posed this question: 

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?” (Romans 8:35)

And then, he also gives the answer: 

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39) 

My son was resistant because he’d convinced himself I couldn’t relate to his situation – maybe because I’m older, maybe because I’m a woman or because I’m not a college student. I did the same to my mother when I was a young lady. She grew up during a different time and a lot had changed since she was a young woman so I discounted her. I didn’t value her advice. I came to believe, once I grew older, that she was such a wise woman. Her words came to me, time and again, and I realized just how much she understood and just how much has not changed about human nature and life in general. And I was ever so thankful that, despite how I rejected her advice then, she never stopped trying to impart that wisdom to me. She didn’t give up.

The reason why it was important for Jesus to come and live out his life on a human level, was so he could relate to us and whatever we’re going through. So there would be no walls or barriers or blocks between us and him. Nothing would be lost in translation. He lived a flesh and blood life so He could empathize. He does understand. He gets it. 

“For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.” (Hebrews 2:17-18) 

God wanted to show me on that day, he loves us and he understands. He used my dilemma with my son to connect with me and teach me a lesson. I love my son and I’ve spent time building our relationship and forging our connection. I wasn’t willing to let that go. I wasn’t willing to let it become a misunderstanding or chalk it up to our age gap. No excuses. There are things about our relationship that I recognize will have to change because he’s becoming his own man and finding his own way. But this – our ability to talk and to come to an understanding, I was not willing to sacrifice. I wanted him to always know he can talk to me and if I don’t understand, I’ll surely try. I’ll keep on trying until we find common ground. 

The parent-child relationship is a foreshadow of the relationship God yearns to have with us.  God drew the parallel between my relationship with my son and His relationship with me.  And the message was the same as I gave my son:  I love you.  Let me in.  Don't shut me out.  Talk to me.  I don't want to lose what we have.  I don't want to lose you.  Because God loves us, giving up is not an option. He’s gonna keep trying to reach us by any and all means necessary. His love won't fail; his love is persistent. He'll keep on trying because there is so much to gain and too much to lose.

Be blessed,



Loria

The Divine

“But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”  (Matthew 6:15)

“To err is human, to forgive divine.” Alexander Pope

Jesus told a story of a rich man who decided to call in the debts that were owed to him.  One of his servants owed a huge sum that he couldn’t pay, so the master ordered his property and family seized to settle the debt. The servant begged for more time and his master had mercy, canceling the debt entirely.  Some time later, this same servant came upon a fellow co-worker who owed him a paltry (in comparison) sum.  He seized his co-worker by the throat and demanded payment.  The co-worker pleaded for more time but was denied and thrown into prison.  How quickly the servant forgot that just a short time ago, he needed forgiveness.

With the holiday season so nearly upon us, I find myself skipping right over Halloween and looking forward to my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving.  I love it because the focus is mainly on the meal and sharing it with family and friends.  It’s like Christmas without the month long prelude of shopping; without all the hustle and bustle.  It allows us to get together and just enjoy each others’ company.

One Thanksgiving some years ago, I was inspired to hold a pre-holiday dinner for the homeless.  My family and friends pitched in to help and the event was considered a great success.  It was even attended by the media.  The food was delicious, the children helped to serve and we all felt good because, for a short time, we’d helped to alleviate the suffering of our fellow man.  I was very pleased with our efforts, largely because I felt I’d obeyed the will of God. I was especially thankful for the help of the fellow introduced to me by my sister.  He'd arranged for the press release so I'd promised to the return the favor on Thanksgiving Day by serving dinner to the homeless in his area. 

As I prepared our dinner on Thanksgiving, I thought about my brother.  I wondered if he even had a special dinner on this day.  He wasn’t homeless but he wasn’t doing well.  He and life just did not seem to get along.  As a result, he was kind of down and out.  Mostly due to some poor choices earlier in his life, he and I were estranged.  But his house was on the way to my destination.  Could I drive past his house and offer comfort and hope to people I didn’t even know, while not doing the same for my own brother?

The answer was no, I decided.  So I prepared his meal and took it by his apartment.  He was surprised and happy to see me, pleased that I’d thought of him.  And I was able to serve dinners to the homeless with a clean conscience and not feel like a hypocrite.  Looking back, that was the defining moment – the bridge towards forgiveness.  It gave my brother hope and let him know, despite our separation, he was my brother and I still loved him.

My brother and I had a rocky relationship later in life but we started out really close.  My earliest memories of him are when he would bring me out before his friends and have me dance for them.  Imagine me as a child, the unabashed performer.  I also recall the time my brother took a beat down for my sake.  Some neighborhood thugs accosted me and my friends on our way to school.  While they didn’t harm us physically, we were somewhat traumatized by the experience.  I went home and told my mother.  My brother overheard and met me after school so that I could point out the offender.  I did. 

My brother confronted the guy, probably thinking he was alone.  A fight broke out and I, er, ran home.  In retrospect, I guess I should have stayed – I mean, he was fighting to defend my honor, right?  In my defense, I was afraid of the guy.  He’d already terrorized me once that day!  Plus, I thought my brother, being five years older, knew what he was doing.  Soon after I got home, my brother came in crying, looking bedraggled and upset because I’d left him to fight alone.  Honestly, what could I have done against a group of guys?  Even though my brother was upset because I didn’t help him, I knew he would do it again.  He would risk bodily harm to protect his siblings.

As we grew older, our relationship became strained.  We fought frequently, until we could barely tolerate one another.  He did some things I felt were unforgiveable.  It was the elephant in the room, this thing between us that we never spoke about.  I always held it against him.  I never let him forget.

One day, this scripture came to me:  “…whosoever sins ye retain, they are retained." (John 20:23)  I thought to myself – what if his life, once so full of promise, had stalled because of me?  What if he was treading water, never able to get ahead, never able to move on because I was keeping him bound to that place with my unforgiveness?  It hurt to think I had that kind of power.  Whatever our issues, I didn’t want that.  On the heels of that revelation came another alarming realization.  If I can’t forgive him, how can I expect forgiveness?  That hit closer home.  Now, I had added incentive to let go of the past.

Little by little, I began to reach out to my brother, or at least, respond to his overtures.  I was still wary, still cautious and looking for the first sign that he would exploit any perceived weakness.  I waited for him to push in asking for too much or for more than I wanted to give.  But, he didn’t.  He seemed to understand that I was giving him another chance and was looking for an opportunity to bolt.  I think he'd finally realized that trust was fragile and didn’t want to abuse it.

Still fearful, I took baby steps.  If he had a genuine need, he let me know and I did what I could to make his life a little easier.  He began to go to church and attend bible study.  He even joined the choir!  He admitted that he couldn’t sing and I couldn’t help but agree.  It felt like, slowly, he was putting his life back together.  Sometimes, we would stop and visit him on the way home from church – my mom, the kids and I.  And one day, I was rewarded for my efforts.  I saw the brother of my childhood, again.  He stood before me, clear eyed and saw me.  For a moment, we were little sister and big brother, again.  It was a wonderful feeling.  As we drove home, I shared with my children, “I just saw my brother!”  I’m sure they didn’t understand what that meant but I hadn’t seen him in twenty years.

My brother died, not long after that meeting, due to complications of surgery.  I was glad that I’d forgiven him and was able to truly mourn his passing. It occurred to me that we are all seeking forgiveness in one way or another.  We want to atone for our sins, our wrongdoing.  Not just because society or the Bible says it’s wrong but because we, ourselves, feel it’s wrong.  Our conscience tells us so.  It doesn’t sit well with us. 

We all have power, when you think about it.  Power to bind someone forever with unforgiveness to a place in time that they would be free of.  Power to forgive and let go and maybe give them a shot at living a better life and becoming a better person.  I sometimes jokingly say, “Only use your powers for good,” but it’s true.  We all have the power to be just a little bit divine.

Be blessed,

Loria

What's in a Name?

“The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe.”  Proverbs 18:10

“Inconceivable!”  Vizzini

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”  Inigo Montoya, The Princess Bride

Once, I was invited to speak on “The Promises of God.”  It was the first time I could remember being asked to speak outside of my own church.  I was hesitant in accepting but had great respect and admiration for the one who issued the invitation.  I accepted, thinking, if she had faith that I could do it, the least I could do was agree with her!  So I researched and began to prepare to teach on this ambitious topic and I found that His names are promises.  They tell us much about his character, who he is and how much we can rely on him. 

My search yielded well known names:  Jehovah Jireh – The Lord as provider.  Jehovah Shalom – The Lord as peace.  Jehovah Rapha – The Lord as healer.  The second word modifies his personal name and reveals character traits.  El Shaddai, one of my favorites, means God Almighty or “The Big Breasted One.”  Actually, it’s masculine in nature, more like “chest”.  The image sprang to my mind of God as my superhero, able to leap tall problems in a … well, you get the idea.  What surprised me was that the “God” part of the name could often be found in the smallest section – “El.”  As in, Bethel (house of God) and Emmanuel (God with us).  Kind of like the “Je” in Jesus or “Jo” in Joshua or “Ye” in Yeshua (The Lord saves).  I learned to follow the clues to find his names.  When you see LORD in all capital letters, it denotes God’s personal name, Yahweh or Jehovah, which is thought to be related to the Hebrew verb, “to be” and closely akin to “I AM.”  For me, it was fascinating stuff!  I loved learning about his names and uncovering his promises.

One name, though, stuck with me more than any other for it told me the most about Him:  I AM.  This was the name he gave Moses and how he chose to reveal himself to the Israelites. But it didn’t make sense.  “I AM” is not a name but the beginning of a sentence.  It was confusing.  And then I got it - Oh!  *FACEPALM* It was so simple that it took a child’s mentality to understand it:  “I AM,” fill-in-the-blank.  “I AM,” insert-problem-here.  “I AM,” anything and everything you need me to be!  That’s how he wants us to know him.  That’s why he revealed himself as such.  He gave himself that name, showing himself to a people in need because he wanted to fulfill that need.  He wants us to know he stands ready, even now - no matter the need, whatever the problem.  “I AM” here for you!

I had a dear uncle – Pap, is what we used to call him.  Uncle Pap was my mother’s brother and very much a fixture in our household as we grew up.  During that time, he grew to be my father’s good friend and confidante.  They spent many hours in our basement, talking and working on their latest home improvement project.  Pap practically lived with us a lot of the time.  Even when he went home, it was only for a short time and then he was back at our house again.  He was needed.  He was good company, an excellent cook (cornbread!) and a good male presence.  He was steady and dependable; faithful. 

Time passed.  We grew up, got married, and had children.  Our father passed and the family began to disperse.  We moved out, one by one, to build our own lives and seek our own fortunes, so my mother moved on with us.  Pap continued to come and support her, staying with her until the final moving day. My brother reported to me how very lost Pap looked on that day.  He had been such a constant in our lives that it hadn’t occurred to me, until then, that we were just as big a part of his life.  So I reached out to him and he came to visit me and my family.  Being a farmer all his life, Pap helped to plant vegetable gardens at my home, my sister's home and his daughter’s home.  He got a big kick out of it for he was in high demand and was kept busy shuffling back and forth.  He was a welcome and major part in all our lives and became as firmly entrenched in our households as he had been in our mother’s.

We looked forward to his visits. My children thought of him as a grandfather and I valued his company.  I spent many hours talking with him, just as my father did before me.  One day, Pap said to me, “Just like me and your daddy was, that’s how you and me is.  Whatever you need, if I can do it, Pap’ll do it for you.”   Wow.  I was touched.  Not because I needed anything.  Pap was treasured.  He didn’t have to do anything in my home, just be.  But I appreciated the sentiment.  I never took my uncle up on his offer but he found ways to help me in his own way - from helping me plant my garden to being a grandfather for my kids.  I wouldn’t have asked so whenever he saw a need, he stepped up to fill the vacancy.  I see God in this, for when Pap verbalized his desire to be the one I could turn to, he was ultimately fulfilling the will of the ONE who really desired to be The Great I AM in my life.  Pap wanted me to know that he would be there for me, in whatever capacity, if I needed him.  He also recognized his own limitations and put qualifiers on his offer, “If I can do it, I will.” 

It occurred to me recently, that God is saying the same thing but without the limitations.  He didn’t put qualifiers on it and say “maybe” or “if I can.”  He boldly declared himself to be the One who could and would fulfill our needs.  His name tells us, he will take care of us, just as he did the Israelites and our ancestors.  And my father and mother and grandmother.  He has said simply, in effect: I AM the one you can turn to in a time of need. A God without limitations, that’s who we serve. 

We have limitations.  Sometimes we are limited by time or physically.  Sometimes we are limited because of our mindset.  But, as hard as it is to grasp, He is limitless in his ability.  Inconceivable, we may think.  Yet, it is.  Otherwise, how can we embrace miracles that happen every day?  Thirty-three Chilean miners were trapped underground longer than anyone in recorded history, since August 5^th.  Today, they are free.  Inconceivably.  Recalling recent mining accidents, I know they don’t always have a happy ending.  As one of the miners, Mario Sepulveda, put it, "I think I had extraordinary luck. I was with God and with the devil. And I reached out for God.”  In choosing God, he had to believe that God could be his solution.  God could be just the remedy that was needed. In reaching out for God, he had to believe that God could fulfill his promises. 

Be blessed,

Loria

The Bucket List

For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower thereof falls away.” 1 Peter 1:24

Man is like a breath; his days are like a fleeting shadow. Psalm 144:4

I was recently interviewed by a co-worker for our monthly newsletter.  During our session, she posed the question:  Name something that you’ve always wanted to do but have put off for years.  “You mean, like a bucket list?” I asked.  “Yes,” she responded.  I thought about it for a few moments and then realized – I don’t really have a list of unfulfilled desires anymore.  I usually get to clear out my "to do" list during my Birthday Year.  That's when I give myself permission to pursue anything and everything. 

Every so often I get the urge to celebrate beyond my actual birthday.  It’s not a specific year, like say, every five years or years ending in zero or even multiples of ten.  I just have to feel the need.  I may feel antsy or decide it’s time to challenge myself.  That’s when I declare my Birthday Year and pledge to celebrate all year long.  The funny thing is, I don’t usually do anything BIG or over-the-top (like bungee jumping - I’ll never understand THAT), or very expensive.  I just try my hand at anything I have a mind to do.  Maybe it’s because I try the silly things that I find the nerve to do bigger things. 

My mom is a woman who always challenged herself.  Where her family was concerned, she was always thinking about how she could be a better mother and be more of what we needed her to be.  She always wanted more for her children than she had.  She didn’t get hugs and kisses or encouragement growing up, so she made sure that we got plenty to break that cycle.  Even into her eighties, she was a woman who instigated change in our family relationships.  “Talk to me,” she’d say.  She wanted to continue to grow and keep up with us and our needs as our world changed.  I still cringe when I remember the time she watched Oprah and decided we needed to have a conversation about me and my biological clock!  She was not a woman set in her ways but ever evolving.

I, too, found my inspiration in Oprah.  I haven’t watched her show in years but I have kept up with her transformation and how she continues to reinvent herself.  I watched with the nation as she exercised and punished her body until she declared herself to be in the best condition ever.  I watched while she trained for marathons and her body morphed until you could bounce a quarter on her stomach.  I sighed, “One day…”  I remember thinking and looking forward to the day when I could pursue my own desires and interests.  But then my birthday came and it dawned on me:  Half of my life could be already gone. One day is here!  Although I'm still in my prime, how long that will last?  I’d spent potentially half of my life waiting for “One Day” to arrive. I thought about my own mortality and recognized the need for a metamorphosis of my own.

That was my very first Birthday Year – in it, I did everything I ever wanted to do, not putting it off any longer.  That was the year I lost 60 pounds through exercise, alone.  I took up roller skating with my children - hadn’t been on them since I was a kid but I’d always wanted to try it again.  (I was afraid that if I fell I wouldn’t be able to get back up!)  I decided I wanted to learn Spanish so I went to the library and picked up some tapes on conversational Spanish, practicing with a helpful co-worker.  Anything that popped into my head that year was as good as done.  Just because. I felt the need to indulge myself instead of denying myself.  “Just do it!” became my motto. 

The year I spent celebrating my birthday yielded some wonderful results.  Instead of worrying about the time I had left, I began to live.  I rediscovered me, becoming more than just wife, mother, church attendee and employee. I became more ME.  I enjoyed it so much that whenever my birthday comes now, I re-evaluate my life and see if it needs shaking up.  Usually by the time the year is over, I’m ready to get off the ride.  Birthday Years are hard work!  It’s exhausting to keep challenging myself.  I rise to each occasion and I learn something about myself in the process.  I come out of the experience exuberant and triumphant. 

I found that roller skating didn’t lead to broken limbs and although I never did learn how to dance on skates, I did make my way around the rink without doing major bodily damage.  Even when I fell, I found I was able to get back up.  Every time I did, I felt a little less breakable and more resilient.  I found my mind was just as capable of learning as it ever has been.  I picked up enough Spanish to converse with my co-worker on a basic level but all I remember now is, “palomitas quemadas” because she used to burn her microwave popcorn.  And I found out, like Oprah, it is impossible to sustain that kind of weight loss unless you spend hours at the gym AND change your eating habits. 

My birthday is also a special time because I choose that day to reflect on my life, the past year and my accomplishments.  This month marks the one year anniversary of “The Word in My Life.”  Five years ago, this month, I purchased my first home on my own and I’m still there.  That, in itself, is cause for celebration.  Four years ago, I began a new job – since then, I’ve gained recognition and created my very own job title.  This is the time I hold myself accountable because I know one day, God will.

Tomorrow is my birthday and once again, I find myself in the position of starting all over.  I am, as I was in the beginning, alone.  But this time, it thrills and excites me.  It feels like it deserves something “a little more extraordinary” ala Bridget Jones Diary. It calls out to me; murmuring, Birthday Year.  I’ve tried to fight the urge but I feel it bubbling up inside of me, crying out for release. The suggestion dances in my head because it knows the time is near.  It rises to a crescendo - Birthday Year!  I can no longer resist the pull; I finally give in – BIRTHDAY YEAR!  YEAH!!!!!!!  Let the celebration begin!  Toot the horns!  Toss the confetti!  Once more with feeling:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY YEAR TO ME!!!!!!

Be blessed,

Loria

Sign of the Times

"But the Israelites were fruitful and multiplied greatly and became exceedingly numerous, so that the land was filled with them. Then a new king, who did not know about Joseph, came to power in Egypt.” 

(Exodus 1:7-8)

"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are." Theodore Roosevelt

When my kids were about eight and nine years old, one of them said to me, “Mom, when I turn eighteen, I’m moving out.”  I froze.  “Really?  You’re gonna leave me?  Why?”  The last question was more of a whine.  This conversation was about ten years premature and I didn’t want to think about it, even then.  I geared myself up to lay on the guilt, heavy and thick because I didn’t want my baby to LEAVE me.  But then, my child stopped me with one question:  “Aren’t we supposed to?”  Which made me think:  “Ok, yeah – if I do my job right, raise them to adulthood and teach them how to take care of themselves and be responsible citizens, they‘re supposed to move out and be on their own.  Then they can raise their own successful families.”  It could be viewed, I reasoned, as a measure of success, maturity and growth.  So successful parenting meant encouraging my children to grow up and get out there on their own, not trying to keep them suspended forever THERE, as my babies.  Growth is a natural progression.  You’re supposed to move on after you’ve absorbed all that you can from that experience.

A phrase I’ve heard bandied about for some time is, “Bloom where you’re planted.”  It means you can grow or increase, right where you are.  You can flourish; you can create and go on to that next level or become something else, all within your current situation.  In essence, it means, you work with what you’ve got.  And that’s true, but only up to a point; this mentality can actually stunt your growth.  Think about it – a potted plant can only grow so much before having to be moved to a bigger pot.  There’s a limit to how much you can grow where you are.  Many of us have become complacent and stationary, spinning our wheels, treading water.  We find ourselves in situations that no longer fit our lives or enable us to use our gifts and talents.  We allow ourselves to be chained in relationships that are no longer healthy.  We get frustrated and wonder why everything is a struggle.   It’s because we have become stagnant.  But we resist growth because there is a very real fear that we could potentially outgrow something or someone.   And that frightens us because once you've outgrown your situation, it's time to change your situation.

There’s that word again.  Change is scary.  It’s out of our comfort zone.  We fight to hold on to life as we know it because change can also be painful.  Who wants to change?  I mentioned this to my sister one day and she was surprised by my attitude.  After all, I AM the ADVOCATE for change!  But, I fear change as much as the next person.  It’s just that I’ve realized I am fighting a losing battle.  Change is the way of life.  It’s like a freight train.  It’s coming and there’s little you can do about it, except to make up your mind how you’re gonna deal with it.  When I see that change is inevitable, I see two choices left to me:  Get on board with it or get run over by it!  After my initial resistance, I usually enter a stage of acceptance.   Once you accept that things are changing, you can move forward.

The Israelites faced a similar predicament.  When Joseph relocated his family to Egypt to avoid famine, he’d moved them into a situation that would bless them.  The Pharaoh had great respect for Joseph and the God that he served.  So he made Joseph his second-in-command and later urged Joseph to move his family to Egypt.  The Pharaoh even gave them their own territory.  It was a very generous offer.  But there came a time when a new Pharaoh rose to power.  He didn’t acknowledge the God of Israel, let alone recognize their favored position as Joseph’s descendants.  He saw the Israelites as a threat.  He forced them into slavery and slew their newborn sons.  The Israelites blessing had become a curse.  The signs were evident, the new Pharaoh’s attitude was a BIG HONKING CLUE – it was time to move on. 

So God sent Moses to tell the Israelites that he would lead them to their own land - a land of prosperity, flowing with milk and honey.  They’d spent generations growing beyond the large family of twelve brothers into a great nation of twelve tribes.  They’d outgrown their current situation and were being primed to move into the next level, their inheritance.  Moses was leading them to a land where God could bless them again.  So the Israelites left BUT they grumbled and complained all along the way.  At times they wanted to go back to Egypt because even though it wasn’t the best life, it was the life they knew.  They hadn’t truly moved on – their minds were still back in Egypt.  Their obstinacy led to their undoing – because they wouldn’t move forward in their thinking, they couldn’t possess the land God wanted to give them.  They wandered the desert for forty years like people lost, just out of reach of their promised land. 

From their story, I learned this lesson:  The time to “bloom where you’re planted” eventually comes to an end.  God wants to take us forward, to bless us and do something wonderful and to move us on to bigger and better things.  Life is about moving on.  Somewhere along the line, I realized that fighting growth meant fighting change and potentially, fighting my blessing.  Now, when seeming calamity comes along, I am able to consider that it may very well be God, shaking me out of my comfort zone and telling me it’s time to move on.  Actually, I’ve resisted change so much, at times, that the only way I would or could move on is because God, himself, moved me.  That’s when he reveals that my landing place was only a launching pad.  It was meant to be a period of growth and preparation; merely a transition to take me to the next level.

So, sure, do what you can, where you are … and then move on.  Don’t put down roots where you’re only meant to make a pit stop.  I’m learning how to recognize the signs that a situation is no longer working for me AND that there is value in knowing when to move on.

Be blessed,

Loria

Growing Pains

“I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.”
(Isaiah 46:10)

My last semester in college, I took Speech 101.  My teacher had written the textbook, literally, on making speeches.  And I had visions, dreams, ambitions of standing before great crowds, speaking and singing.  Problem with that dream was, I was shy and afraid.  So, I dreamt of a future where I wasn’t afraid.  I thought that taking a speech class would improve my ability to speak before audiences and get rid of my stage fright.  I put a lot of faith in that plan.  It would be my cure-all and the perfect solution to my problem.  My salvation.

I wrote my first speech and delivered it in front of the class.  I was a good writer so I guess I anticipated a good grade.  But when I got my graded speech from the teacher, I was stunned.  She had scrawled across the front:  “Next time remove the gum from your mouth for clear articulation!”  What?  Huh?  How was that possible?  I didn’t even have any gum in my mouth!  I was indignant, dismayed and discouraged.  I knew that I didn’t have any talent as a public speaker – that’s why I was taking her darned class!  I thought she could help me.  But she didn’t.  Apparently, she couldn’t work miracles.  I was so discouraged that I dropped a class for the first time, ever.

I carried that memory with me my whole life.  Even as I was thrust into leadership roles, I knew in the back of my mind that I was no leader.  Even as I gained more courage to sing from my soul, I knew that I had no stage presence.  Even as I was thrown into situations that required me to speak publicly, I knew I still sounded like I had gum in my mouth.

So imagine my surprise when I was drafted into a speaking role at my church one day and the minister replied, “It makes sense because you’re such a natural.”  Uroo?  (In my Astro voice – from the Jetson's)  Wait, I mean, what?  “You’re a natural –you have such a wonderful speaking voice.”  As I continued to look at her in a strange way, it dawned on her.  “You’ve never been told that before?”  No, never. 

I recounted that story to my friend and counselor and she had this to say:  That disappointing experience with my speech teacher then, prompted me to be more careful when I speak, thus causing me to become a better speaker today.  That experience molded me and made me who I am.  Even as I believed what she’d written on my paper, I persevered.  I still tried.  I spoke in public settings.  I sang before audiences.  I became the girl in my vision.  God’s will was accomplished in my life, not only in spite of the adversity I’d faced but because of it.  Amen.

It occurred to me then, and now, that some of the things that have happened in my life NEEDED to happen, just so I could get where I am supposed to be.  That means every disappointment or setback, every victory and exultation, every challenge; every obstacle has a purpose and a meaning.  And God uses every single one of them, nothing’s wasted, to get me to the place where He has determined and ordained that I should be.

I think of the history of Israel and how Solomon’s death created a rift that split the kingdom in two.  Solomon’s son, Rehoboam, maintained control of two tribes and was about to go to war with his brethren.  But God revealed that splitting the kingdom in two was actually his plan to save a remnant of Israel.  The two tribes comprising Judah, Rehoboam’s portion, are likely the remnant that is recognized today as the nation of Israel.  The other ten tribes did not survive as a nation and were conquered and assimilated into the surrounding cultures.  So the separation, which was painful, ultimately served God’s purpose of preserving his people. 

Then there was the early Christian church which was persecuted after the crucifixion of Jesus.  They were forced into hiding, fearing for their lives.  Their fears were justified, eventually resulting in the death of Stephen, the first Christian martyr.  This seemed to be a horrifying turn of events and the Christians fled their homeland, on the lam but also, taking the good news where ever they went.  So that really horrible thing turned out to be the catalyst that made the Gospel available to the world.  Even then, God used that situation to bring about his good purpose. 

I have many regrets. For a time, my failed marriage was one.  Even though I thought I was over it, I wasn’t.  Not completely.  There was still residual anger and pain from how things ended between us.  I could go on and on, at times, ranting about it.  Lately, I seemed to be doing more and more of that.  But going forward, I resolve to remember something else.  The person I am today, I owe, in part, to my ex-husband.  Not just because the pain of divorce changed me and made me wiser.  Besides my children, I owe some very good things about my life to him.

I get my outgoing nature from his example.  He was the opposite of me – charismatic, gregarious and extroverted.  Shy was not in his vocabulary.  He just barreled right through his fear and waited on the other side to receive his due praise.  I picture him, hands upraised in a victorious pose, Ta-Da!  When it came to performing for God, he had no reservations.

Introverted by nature, I prayed for boldness.  I realized my shy demeanor stemmed from fear of how my performance would be received.  It held me back until I learned to perform for myself and God, alone.  Once I no longer worried about my reception, I was free of debilitating shyness.  Pretty soon, I started to be very much like my (then) husband.  So I’m thankful for his influence.

Even if I could do it again, would I change any of it?  If pressed, I’d have to admit:  He is part of who I am and how I came to be.  I wouldn’t change who I am now.  I like who I am now.  I know who I am now.  I can’t even wish I’d never met my ex-husband or that we’d never gotten married.  So I choose to let go of the last vestiges, the bitter remains of any anger or hurt that linger. 

After battling drug addiction, Natalie Cole came out of rehab and was interviewed by Oprah.  She was asked, “If you had it to do over again, what would you change?”  Natalie replied, “Nothing because everything I went through made me who I am.”  Yeah, I get that.  Now, I can appreciate and accept that God used these events to get me where I always wanted to be. 

Be blessed,

Loria

A Perfect Love

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”  (1 John 4:18)

The U-Haul handled like a bus and I drove it with trepidation as I pulled into the dorm’s parking lot. It was a huge van, set on big wheels and terribly intimidating to me. But, I drove it. I had to – my need to do this for my children overrode my reservations, causing me to “drive” right through that fear. I’ve always told my children: Courage doesn’t mean you’re never afraid. It means doing what you have to do, despite being afraid. So, here I was, afraid, yet still doing it. There’s something about facing your fears that empowers you. It gives you strength to face down the next obstacle.

As we unloaded the van at my daughter’s dorm, one of my 'besties' came out to greet me. See, a funny thing happened on the way to college – not only was my daughter attending the same school as my son but she was also rooming with the niece of my good friend, through no design of our own. They were matched completely at random. My only misgiving was could they get along as roommates? But I could not be happier with God’s choice for a roommate (because this was surely God working and no coincidence) - my kids have known her since they were small and we all attended church together. She’s tall and beautiful, with legs that go on forever. (Sigh. I’d like to be her when I grow up.) She’s also incredibly sweet, carries herself well and is, I think, a good role model for my daughter.

It occurred to me that God had a two-fold reason for putting these girls together.  In doing so, it resulted in my friend being there for me. For all my illusion of strength and control, I could still potentially wind up a basket case when the time came to actually let them go. Just seeing my friend encouraged me. It let me know that I was not alone. Help was right here, just in case I needed it. That made me feel strong. Although she came to deliver her niece to the dorm, I felt like God had her come just for my sake.

I said goodbye to my friend and then unloaded my son’s things at his dorm. I wanted to make sure the kids had everything they needed, so my daughter and I took a trip to Wal-Mart to stock up on supplies. As we were standing in the grocery aisle, I noticed my daughter was suddenly quiet. I turned to see a face, peering around my shoulder and leaning between me and my daughter. I drew in a sharp breath as recognition dawned on me. I gasped three times – My FRIEND! It was my good buddy and co-worker from my call center days. We used to study our bibles together there. I hugged her to me. It was so good to see her again and doubly so on this day.

She’d sent me a message that her own daughter would also be attending the same college and added; maybe we’d see each other on move-in day. I thought it highly unlikely as they stayed in different dorms but here she was - another good friend, there for me on my big day. I knew God had done that. I knew he was taking care of me. My heart swelled with joy.

As we left the parking lot, my cell phone rang - my sister calling. She made some excuse to hide her true reason but I knew: she was concerned about me. She wanted to make sure I wasn’t lying somewhere in a puddle of my own tears, having a complete breakdown. She was worried that my legendary strength, in this, would fail me. She wanted to be there for me, if needed, even if only via phone. Of course, she denied it. But, I knew. I also realized it was her love and the love of my friends that gave me strength on this day. I felt like God had surrounded me with his love. Who could cry then? I felt migh-TY blessed.

We drove back to the dorm. As I prepared to take my leave, my daughter said, “Come back. Sit for a while. Have a bowl of cereal.” By this, I knew she wasn’t quite ready for me to go. So I delayed, helping put away her things and assembling her fan. Then I called my son over to her room and hugged them both, saying my goodbyes. I’m sure my nose turned red (it always does, I’m told) as I fought to not cry. I clasped their hands and prayed for them, speaking the same benediction over them which has evolved in the years since they first left for kindergarten: “Heavenly Father, In Jesus’ name, watch over my children and keep them safe from all hurt, harm and danger …” I choked up from the memories of it. My son gave his sister a look that clearly said, “Here she goes!” He expected this to be the BIG breakdown. Mama’s gonna lose it. But I didn’t. I kept it together and walked out of the dorm. I soon realized my daughter was beside me.

“What are you doing?” I say.

“Walking you to your car,” she said. Left unsaid was, “Making sure you’re OK.”

Her concern was my undoing. My vision clouded and tears finally began to fall as she hugged me to her. This time, my tears were only for her. I was letting my baby go.

“That’s it, forget it!” She joked. “Let’s go back and get my things and I’ll go home with you.”

“Not after all the money I’ve spent!” I said. “You’d better stay.” Besides, I didn’t want her to become like me, a bucket of fears walking around on two legs.

“Don’t worry – we’ll take good care of your baby!” Another voice said.

I turned to see a man in a suit walking by. I had faith in his suit; it comforted me. I hoped it meant he spoke with some authority and that I could trust him. In any case, I was holding him to his word. As I looked into my daughter’s happy face, the face of a young woman now, the final piece fell into place and a light came on. I realized I could trust God to take care of her. He loves her, too. He would be with her. He put a lot of people in place to guide her and keep her safe. He is invested in her. With that thought, the last of my fears evaporated.

“Perfect love casts out fear,” I quoted to my friend and counselor one day. She responded, “There’s no such thing as perfect love.” But I thought to myself then, thinking of my relationship with God, “Yeah, there is.” God’s love is perfect. His love on this day, manifested through the kindness of others, eased my fear.

As I drove home, I shed no tears. I was jubilant.  I was triumphant. I felt safe in the knowledge that God loved me. I felt secure that my daughter would be taken care of. I knew that I would be taken care of.  I had no worries.  I drove to the library to get a book. I got out of the car thinking, “Oh, I have to hurry home because of the kids…” No, I reminded myself, I don’t. Then, I went to the grocery store, thinking of all the things I would need to get for the kids … No, I didn’t. So, I pushed my cart, thinking of all the things I would get just for me. And I grinned. I was truly single, again.

Be blessed,



Loria