To the Young Women in My Life

To the young women in my life...

1. What do you want to be remembered for? I don't mean after your death, but five or ten or fifteen years from now, when you've moved on to a new city and you're out on your own, when you've found new friends to add to the old ones, how do you want them to think about you?

2. How do you see yourself? I don't mean physically, but how do you see your own attitude. Would you want to be friends with someone exactly like yourself? If there's something you don't like, you have the power to change it. Happiness is a choice.

3. Take a deep breath. Never, ever panic.

4. What do you fight for? What do you fight about? There are some things, most things in fact, that aren't worth the trouble. Family, marriage and friends are not among them. Never fight for yourself; fight for those you love.

5. Be strong enough to do it yourself, but if someone offers, let them help you.

6. Offer to help others.

7. Fall in love with God before you even think about "liking" someone else. I don't care how cute he is...if he's not in love with God, you'll regret it. By the way, cute only lasts six months, at most.

8. Boys are not stupid. They are different. Very, very different. Talk to them like you would talk to someone who has just learned English as a second language. Be careful. Be kind. Be clear. Don't expect mind-reading.

9. Forgive. Even if they never admit they are wrong, forgive them. Don't assume they meant to hurt you. If you have a problem, talk to them personally, not about them to others. Never gossip.

10. You don't have to have a career. You don't have to get married. You don't have to have children. But you do have to be useful, helpful, compassionate. Make a difference wherever you are.

11. Learn to cook. It'll save you so much money. And baking is fun.

12. Pray. All the time.

13. Dress well. Let's be honest, you know when you're wearing something too short, low-cut or tight. Don't. You're beautiful, and you don't need to degrade yourself to get attention.

14. I love you all, and I always will.

Quasar

When I was in high school, a band called the Smalltown Poets sang a song with these lyrics: There must be something else that all of this revolves around / I appear so small and barely make a sound / Still mysterious these frequencies they draw you out / Looking for some light, see what I'm all about / The rest of them are stars / I'm a quasar.

This caught my attention, as it may have yours, because quasar isn't a word you hear in everyday conversation. To be as brief as possible, quasars are QUASi-stellAR radio sources. They surround black holes at the center of certain galaxies and emit massive amounts of light along with radio waves. They are the some of the most luminous objects in the known universe.

Quasar 3C 273

Now, back to the song.

Obviously, as Christians, our light should be drawing people to study us and ask what makes us shine so brightly. We should be quasars.

But that's easier said than done. Philippians 2:14-15 gives us some good guidelines for shining. "Do everything without grumbling and arguing, so that you may be blameless and pure, children of God who are faultless in a crooked and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in the world." 

 This is a verse I was often (read very, very often) reminded of as a teenager. As sometimes happens, this repetition has led me to sort of ignore this verse for the most part. I definitely haven't given it as much thought as I should have in recent years. But now that I am thinking about it, wouldn't it be spectacular to be around someone who never complained or grumbled about anything? I'm not talking about false smiles and such, but what about someone who actually had that sort of attitude? Wouldn't that be awesome? Wouldn't that make you wonder what that person had going on that made them so capable of serenity? It would make me wonder. And I'm supposed to be a quasar.

Another thing of note about quasars is that they don't draw energy from within themselves. Unlike like stars, they aren't burning fuel that is packed inside them. Instead, as far as people can tell at this time, quasars emit light and radio waves as a result of gases swirling around and being inexorably drawn into the black hole. Gravity and massive amounts friction come into play as well as event horizons and other astronomical physics things. If you understand all the maths involved, I applaud you. As far as this illustration goes, however, it's only important to understand that something else powers the quasars. They aren't just out there burning brilliantly by themselves. In fact, if the black hole gives out, the quasar dissipates. So if we want to burn bright like quasars, we have to be close, event horizon close to the source of our power. The closer we get, the more light we will shine. And, like stars drawn to black holes and astronomers drawn to quasars, soon we will start pulling other people closer to our God.

Streak-Free Shine

Being invisible has never appealed to me. I'm not really the sort of person to sit in the background, not matter what's going on. After all, if I'm going to be somewhere, I want people to know I'm there. Otherwise, what's the point of being there, right? To be honest, I don't usually find this a particularly troubling trait in myself. It allows me to get things done that need doing and move on to the next task, whether that be socializing (yes, that counts as a task for me), cleaning a bed or giving blood to a severely hypotensive patient. But I've begun to wonder if maybe, sometimes, it isn't a good idea to be too visible. I don't mean that I want to disappear into the background, because I really don't think being invisible is the point, but I do wonder if there isn't someway that I can be less me. I'm not being self-deprecating. I quite like being myself. However, I know someone who is a great deal better than I am (like saying VY Canis Majoris is a great deal bigger than the earth, if you're looking for a scale reference), and who deserves a lot more attention than I do.

For that reason, I wish I could be see-through, like a window, so that while I'm rushing about being visible and all, people would be able to see who it is that is giving me the strength to do what I do. And trust me. I definitely need the strength. I can't count on one hand the number of times I almost broke down yesterday alone. I am not by nature a patient person, so if you ever see me being patient, I hope you can realize that you're not actually seeing me at all. I'm being see-through.

There is, of course, a catch. Funny thing about windows: when they're dark on the inside, they only reflects what's outside. So if I tell people that I'm a Christian, that I believe in serving a Living God, then if I'm impatient or bitter, if I lie or cheat or curse, I'm painting the inside of my window black, covering up what I'm supposed to be showing, giving a false idea of who God is and what he wants. If I'm not revealing God, then I'm reflecting the world. And for people who have no idea what God's love truly is that must be terribly confusing.

Love is a great window cleaner (better than vinegar and newspaper). It strips away all that black paint and reveals what's truly behind the glass. I find it harder to use than I should. Fortunately, I'm not alone in this effort to create a streak-free shine. God is the one who started the process, and I know he's not going to stop until it's finished.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

 Philippians 1:6

Bus Stop

Sitting at a bus stop on green plastic bench with countless globs of used gum stuck beneath the edge, the wind blows cold and gritty down the street, not at all hindered by the plexiglass shelter sporting badly spelled insults and out of date advertisements...if you are lucky enough to be at a stop that has a shelter at all. Waiting for a bus that may or may not get there on time. It isn't what I would consider a comfortable, or even a safe, place to be. Fortunately, stays at bus stops are inherently transient. They are waypoints, not end points of journeys.

This world is much the same. It is a waypoint, transient and not terribly comfortable. In fact, sometimes, it can be downright painful, sitting in the cold and waiting for a bus that you thought was supposed to be coming. It isn't where you want to be. It isn't home. And if that were all there was in this life, I would be hopeless to the point of despair. 

The greatest thing about this world is that it isn't all there is. We wait at bus stops because we have somewhere else to go. Somewhere infinitely more pleasant and warmer. Somewhere we are meant to be. It may take a while to get there. And while you are here, you will almost definitely end up on a route you hadn't planned on taking either because you read the little colored lines wrong or caught the wrong numbered bus or simply because whether you wanted to go there or not that was where you were meant to be. Certainly, it sometimes feels like you'll be here at this particular stop forever. But it isn't permanent. Nothing here is. And that is the greatest hope I have.

Hebrews 12:25-29

See that you do not refuse him who is speaking. For if they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less will we escape if we reject him who warns from heaven. At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.” This phrase, “Yet once more,” indicates the removal of things that are shaken—that is, things that have been made—in order that the things that cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.

Fire Drill

It's the middle of the night. You're tucked under your blankets blissfully unaware of the surrounding world, when you're suddenly woken by the shrill shriek of the fire alarm and the smell of smoke. With your eyes still blurry and your heart pounding, what do you do?

Do you crawl out the window? Call the fire department? Run for the kids? Or do you lie paralyzed as the haze grows thicker?

When I was younger, my parents used to have fire drills. They were awesome. Mostly because it involved crawling out of a second floor window on a special rope ladder. My parents had a plan. They knew who was responsible for grabbing which kids, and when we were older, we knew where we were supposed to meet outside the house. Fortunately, we never had to use that knowledge, and the only time the fire alarm went off was when the chimney fell over onto it, or someone burnt something on the stove. The point is, however, that we were ready.

The same principle underlies the training I've had to complete as a nurse. I train repeatedly for emergency situations, and when they happen, after the initial moment of brain-stopping panic, I know what to do.

If we can apply these principles to physical emergencies, I wonder why we so often overlook such planning for other aspects of our lives. Tragedies occur everyday. We can't, anyone of us, think that we will escape them. And yet, how often do we sit down and think of what we will do when the worst happens? I'm not talking about preparing for a zombie apocalypse and hoarding canned food. Honestly, I'm not even talking about preparing for a true apocalypse. I'm talking about those normal, yet life-changing tragedies: a death or hurt or loss that changes the structure of your life. What do you do when you can't see to take the next step because your eyes are stinging with tears? What is your emergency strategy?

The thing about the rope ladder from the second floor is that the first time down, you're terrified. By the second time, you know it will hold. And on the third, you're seeing how much you can make it swing...well, maybe not. Still, it's an exercise in building faith. The middle of the night with a house on fire is not the best time to discover whether or not the ladder will hold. It's best to make the decision to act before the problem ever arises.

So run your fire drills. Practice your faith. Make sure you know where your ladder lies, so when you need it the most, you won't be paralyzed in a smoke-filled room.


DANIEL 3

Thinking Like Origami

I've taken up a new hobby. As you can probably guess from the title of this post, I'm attempting origami. I say attempting because there is, apparently, a lot more to origami than I had originally guessed. I just wanted to fold paper into awesome flowers and turtles. Then I learned, you have to have the right paper, along with--and who would've guessed it--the ability to understand what the arrows and lines on the instructions mean. So I asked a friend who recommended a book that explains the arrows and lines and has pictures for every bit of folding. Exactly what I needed.

Here's the thing about origami. You spend a lot of time folding paper only to then unfold it again, because you want the creases there so the paper will bend at the correct place later. And I had an aha! moment. How many times in life do we go through situations where we are forced to "fold" and we can't for the life of us say afterward why it was so necessary that we had to do that. Perhaps, if you're like me, you even spend some time asking God that same question...but then maybe, say, ten years later, you suddenly discover that being able to fold in that way is very important to your new situation. I can't tell you exactly what it will be. Maybe you had to leave something behind, or take something along that you didn't want. Maybe you had to say goodbye to someone. Whatever the case may be, I can't help but think that we are a lot like origami.

We have to, first of all, be the right kind of paper. A paper that can be folded without tearing, that can hold a crease without forgetting...and, of course, it helps to be colorful, too. And we have to be paying attention to the right kind of instructions. If you don't understand the basics, you can't jump into complicated designs. It just doesn't work that way. Trust me. I've tried this and several mutilated pieces of paper will attest to the fact. Last of all, we have to practice. Nobody gets anything right the first time. Unless they're one of those absolutely perfect people who can play fifteen instruments and speak twenty languages...definitely not me.

The wonderful thing about God is that when we fail to fold correctly the first time, he just smooths it over and gives it another go. Sometimes, I think I've been stuck on the same fold for months before I finally understand which way I'm supposed to be going. But God is patient, and he has the right instructions. He wrote the right instructions in a way that me and you and everyone on the planet can understand them. So this week, I'm going to practice folding.

Enough

What is enough? Coming directly after the holiday season this may be a little difficult to answer. Well, who am I kidding? It's always difficult to answer, isn't it? It's always hard to decide how much is just enough and not too much, trying to balance a life of comfort with moderation, if you even want to bother with that sort of thing.

Enough means different things for different people. Enough for people in America is undoubtedly different than the enough of people in, say, Africa. We buy filters for tap water because it's not pure enough. A majority of people in the world don't have water that's actually safe to drink. So enough differs based on what you're used to, where you grew up, how much you're used to having. Or does it?

I recently came across a Hebrew word that I've absolutely fallen in love with. It's dayenu (דַּיֵּנוּ ), which means, roughly but beautifully translated "it would have been enough for us". 

So, as the new year begins, I ask myself what would have been enough? Ransom from darkness and death? Eternal, faithful love? Certainly those seem to fit the bill. On top of these, I also find myself enjoying clean drinking water, a job where I get paid for the work I do, life in a country where women are allowed to vote and drive, clean clothes, hot water, good food. Sometimes it's hard to see that none of those things even register on the scale of "enough" because it's already been topped out. I have so much more than enough. Why do I ever think I need more? I'm not saying it's bad to have things, or even to like purified water. But those should not be the things we are relying on to be enough for us, to make us happy or safe or content. Even if I lose everything that I can lose, including hot water (which would probably be the worst struggle to be honest), I would still have more than enough. More than I would ever have thought to ask for on my own. And realizing that, I can be content...at least, until my brain distracts me again with trivial nonsense.

And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:19