Waiting & Watching

The story goes that there was a dude with some kids.  He would be at work, as dudes often are, but when it came time for him to come home from work, his kids would always be excited.  They would be waiting for him to come home, mostly for supper-eating purposes, I imagine.  Anyhow, one of his children, his little daughter, would stand at the front window.  She wasn't just waiting for him, she was watching.

Cue the tears.  I've heard this man tell this story enough times that I can't cue the tears, but it's a nice story and I hope you've been emotionally touched in a way I haven't been in the past ten years or so.

But the story brings to mind (obviously, as is the point) that we are not just to wait for the Lord's return, but also we ought to watch for Him.  Any one of us could think of a number of verses that echo such a sentiment.

But I'd like to pose another story.  It's about a girl, about my age, who works at a day care.  And about how at that daycare there started a young child, 2ish years of age, who really loved his mom.  Which is a good thing for a child to do, but it's rough when kids have never been away from their mom, and then their tossed into a daycare setting.  So this young boy (we shall call him henceforth Jay), every single day he's at the daycare, spends from 7:30 in the morning till 12:30 in the afternoon waiting for his mom to come and get him.  After all, she will be coming, he knows this for a fact.  And indeed, at 12:30, she comes to fetch him.  He was right all along--mommy loves him enough to remember to come and get him after lunch.  Heartwarming, yes?

No.  Not in the slightest.  You see, Jay doesn't just wait for his mom, he watches for his mom.  Every day, from 7:30 till 12:30, he stands with his face pressed against the window, looking for that first glimpse of her car.

Even more heartwarming?  No.  Not in the slightest.  You see, from 7:30 am to 12:30 pm Jay doesn't just wait and watch for his mother.  He SCREAMS HIS HEAD OFF because he's terrified that she's forgotten about him.  He won't play, he won't color, he won't paint, and if it's ever warm enough to go outside to play he just presses himself up against the fence in lieu of the window and screams there while waiting for his mother.

WHAT KIND OF LIFE IS THAT.

Jay needs to cool his jets and realize that while he's waiting, he could be doing.  Really, he does.  And, frequently, between 7:30 and 12:30 I (being the featured girl in the story who works in sad earshot of this child) am reminded that you know what?  While I'm waiting for the Lord to return (which had better be soon, that's all I'm saying) I need to be doing as well.  Maybe it's just the Sunday School work, maybe it's reaching out to younger girls, maybe it's giving away copies of Get Lost (bless you, Dannah Gresh, for being the best), maybe it's just helping out around the house or with hobby class.  Whatever the case, let it never be said of me that I was waiting and watching for the Lord's coming at the expense of doing for His glory.

In which I meet the kid who is the anti-me

100s day at school was a real revelation

We celebrated 100s day at the daycare recently (which I don't understand.  Being homeschooled apparently left some pretty big gaps in my education.  Why is being 100 days into the school year a big deal?) and we questioned all the older kids about things that had to do with 100.  Some of the answers ended up being hilarious, some rather dull, and some made me question what they teach kids in school these days.

Like this kid, above, who is a dear soul, but upon gazing on his answers I realized that we were very different one from another.  (Well, I probably want to be the boss at my house when I'm 100, but, you know, the other stuff.)

Why we're so different: my corner of the attic has about a million books (or at least, way more than 100), and then day I have 100 cats will be a sad day (haha, or indicate that I am the most single human in the history of humans), and the day I choose to spend $100 buying a dog will be the day any one of you has permission to check me into a home for mentally disturbed individuals.

But that's okay.  It takes all kinds to make the world go round.  I just must confess, this child's polar opposite version of me cracked me up.

Forgiveness

I was in a Christian bookstore recently and noticed that there were a lot of books about forgiveness.  A lot.  Like, a stunning number.  To prove my point I just went to Christianbook.com and searched the keyword "forgiveness."  On my desktop it came up with a staggering 2,264 results, while on my mobile device it came up with but 2,113 results.  (A screenshot for your benefit.  Also, why did I get two different numbers for the mobile/desktop searches?  I don't understand anything.)

Then I searched for other things on CBD like joy and peace and came up with multiple thousands, but words like kindness only got 600+ hits, and it seems like if more books were on kindness, less books would have to be about forgiveness, you feel me?

(Now, I'm not saying that this is indicative of the human problem, this whole rash of books on forgiveness.  Because you know what else you can find by the thousand at Christian bookstores?  Books about Amish people.  And I don't think that really means anything except that old ladies are the biggest consumer of fiction.)

But I didn't buy any of those billions of books on forgiveness.  Why?  (Well, I'm poor, probably.)  Because the most beautiful thing I've read recently about forgiveness is contained in this blog post, which was written by a remarkable young lady I know who faced so much and yet forgave anyhow.  I don't need those billions of books (okay, 2,113 books) to tell me the ins and outs of forgiveness.  I see it in this young lady, every time I see her, because grace truly characterizes her.  Because I see the fruits of the spirit in her and it's an example to me.  Because she is an example to all believers, and I'm so thankful to have the chance to see that in her.

If you get a minute, check out her story.  It's worth the read.

Humans of Everywhere

Have you guys seen those books, you know, Humans of New York, or maybe Humans of the Subways, or whatever?  Full disclaimer, I don't think I've ever read one, but I'm familiar with the concept because I have a cousin who is purportedly the instigator of this project, which is similar by nature.  Funny, I talk to dozens of people everywhere I go, but never have I talked to this particular cousin about this particular project.  Of course, we live far away one from another.  I saw on the website that the original People of Pictou County project was started in May of 2013.  For all I know I haven't even seen her since then.  Shameful, yes.

Anyhow, I have never started a project like that.  I don't go around canvassing for cool stories or interesting vignettes from the people I meet.  But...  Sometimes I think I should.  I could literally write a book about all the different cool stories I hear, the little glimpses into so many different lives.  Sometimes they're non-consequential, like someone telling me that they had an arranged marriage, sometimes they make me cry (sir, I have never forgotten you), and sometimes they're just... cute.

(I have, in the spirit on irony, pretended to trademark the "LifeStory" phrase, even.  I gave it up after about a day, though.  It was tedious and not at all ironic, when it came down to it.)

The other day, for instance, I was in the store, trying to make a return.  There was an older couple in line in front of me and they were likewise making a return, and, as is the manner of my whole life, somehow they started talking to me about, you know, their whole life.

Years ago she was on a blind date with a guy who ended up just being stupid.  I mean, throwing popcorn at her in the movie theater kind of stupid.  She was trying to make him stop ("He was embarrassing and rude!") when another theater patron came to her rescue.  ("I told him to stop disturbing the rest of us and leave his gal alone!")  As is the manner with all cute stories, there was a twist: patron B realized that he knew patron A, and felt embarrassed that his "friend" would treat a gal like this.  When the girl realized that someone sided with her on the rudeness of her blind date ("I vowed never would I endure a blind date again!  Of course," she added slyly, "I didn't have to!") she demanded that he (the friend of the blind date) take her home.

("Were you there with another person?"
"Yes, but we were there as friends, a group of us, and I sent them all home together.")

This didn't mean he was off the hook.  No way, no friend of this rude boy was a friend of hers.  So, when they got home, she had him drop her off a block away from her house.  And pretended to go into some random house till her left.

So, when he came back the next day to find her ("She was smart, and she was sassy!  A gal like that is hard to come by!") she wasn't at the house he expected.  Undeterred, he went on to the next house.  Also, the next.  Also, the next.  He went to every house on the block until he found her.  And even so, she wasn't so sure about him.  She did decide to give him a chance, though, because she admired his tenacity.

I'll spare you the details of their whole story, though I'm pretty sure I got the whole thing, but one notable detail was that on their first real date they went to this fancy restaurant and they were seated and then she started seeing other meals as they were coming out and looked him straight in the eye and said, "I don't have money for this, and neither do you.  We're not eating here." and they left.  ("We had a burger instead," he said.  "It's all I wanted anyhow.")  "That was more than 55 years ago," she said proudly, "and I've been saving him money ever since!"

By this point we had two sales clerks and about half a dozen onlookers enjoying the hilarity of this couple's cuteness.  We'd both finished our returns and were just standing to the side of the desks, talking like we were best friends.

"Sweetie," she told me, "we hear about all these kids who just quit on their marriages, and we just can't understand that.  We've been married 55 years now, and we had some rough times, but I love him.  And more importantly, I like him."

His arm was around her and drew her a little closer and beamed, "She's my gal.  I wouldn't have it any other way."

We talked longer (of course), but when they left the store they were holding hands, happy to show the world (OK, me, two clerks, and half a dozen other strangers) that they were happy.  That after 55 years it's possible that you can not just still love someone, but like them, too.

Holy Nudges, part 2

I recently posted about holy nudges, a thing which I think is very real, and am sobered when I think of all the times I ignore said holy nudges.

For instance, right after I posted last time (okay, well, maybe not right after, but maybe within the next few weeks) a number of times I realized I was ignoring holy nudges.  And who just reminded me about them?  Me.  In this very blog and with my own words.  Guys, I have a lot to learn.

For instance, on a Christmas-related flight I took during the holidays there was a lady who was talking to me in an airport (a stranger?  Talking to me?  Say it isn't so) and I was tired and fine with talking, but when we got on the plane (me quite a ways in front of her, because of Southwest boarding procedure) and she came and found me and said she was glad the seat next to me was still free, I'll admit--I maybe resented my openness of face.  Why do *I* have to be the one to talk to every stranger I've ever met.  Why can't I just nap?  So I leaned into the window and pretended to sleep.  Because I was very, very tired (I don't pack until the night I go places--a horrible habit, and one that detracts from my sleep quite dreadfully) and because I was already people'd out for the day (having spoken to every traveler and TSA agent I'd smiled at  that day already).  So I really was trying to doze off and the Lord kept telling me to talk to this woman.  That I really should.  Come on, Joanne, get with the program.

It took a while.  An embarrassing while, actually.  I'm ashamed to tell the story but share because a) accountability and b) it is a good reminder that when the Lord asks us to do something, we really should.

So, when I finally worked up a right spirit, I sat up and started talking to the woman, who was indeed just sitting upright, eyes open, waiting for a listening ear.  (This story won't make any sense unless I also tell you that she had a very heavy accent.  We may begin.)

"Is this your final destination?"  I asked.  (Nothing like a little travel-flavored small talk to get things started, I've discovered.)

"No, no, once we land I have to take the bus for a few hours."

"Oh, are you visiting family, or going on a vacation?"

"My brother had birthday today."

"Are you two close?"

"Yes, very."

"Well, that's very exciting!"

She stared at me.  And stared at me.  And suddenly I thought, you know, planes are really loud places, and she has an accent.  Maybe I heard her wrong?

So I tried again.  "Your brother's birthday--it's today?"

"No.  My brother died today."

Uhhhhhhhhh.

It was awful.  She was trying desperately to get down to see him and in the airport got the call that he had passed away.  He had no family with him when he died, she had already left her own family so she had nobody with her when she heard, and there she was, just alone in the airport, trying to be with her brother, discovering it was too late.

No wonder she wanted to talk.

That was the thing, though.  We talked about it a little bit, I hugged her (albeit awkwardly, we were on a plane and all) and then she just breathed a deep sigh, leaned her head back, and slept.

She could have been sleeping that whole time, probably, if I'd spoken to her sooner.  But I was being selfish and childish.  But thankfully the Lord persevered with his holy nudge and I bit the proverbial bullet.  And I need to, because she needed someone, and, for whatever reason that person was me.

"Take my lips," that song says, "and let them be filled with messages from Thee."  I'm a Christian, so that ought always to be my prayer, and I'm someone who gets LifeStory'd ALL the time, so I need to be mindful that the Lord probably wants to use these multitudinous occasions as more than just a casual encounter--He has plans for my conversations.

"Take my life, and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee."

Things I learned in 2014

This year, an abbreviated list (unlike last year's wordy list!), because most of the things I learned were kind of personal.  And you guys are my friends, but let's be honest, this is still the internet.

1)  Life is hard.
2)  God is good.
3)  Seeing a fault in one's self doesn't mean the fault will be automatically fixed.
4)  Spreading wings is a difficult and misunderstood task.
5)  Faith comes by hearing.  And hearing.  And hearing again.

And that's it, guys.  All of 2014 and I came away with but five share-able takeaways.

I'm banking on the Lord coming before next year, just so we're all clear.  I say this every year (every day?) but seriously, this year has got to be our year!

And a picture from an airplane, because it's a picture and I used to pretend I was going to add pictures to my posts, remember?