Soaring Downhill

Clarity…interesting concept…

I think intrinsically we all want to be sure of most things.

It starts early. Watch a 4 year old choose a cookie from a platter offering a variety.   Note the hours spent by a fifteen year-old boy in search of his first set of wheels. Spend a Saturday with a slightly insecure teenage girl shopping for a prom dress amidst an endless sea of sequins and sparkles. Concert tickets… wedding dresses… mortgage rates…

Before we choose, before we sign, before we take the proverbial plunge, we want to be 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, clear as crystal certain.

But is that even possible?

I think in most cases, as a whole, we’re willing to take the risk.

We choose a university knowing Gator or Seminole, Buckeye or Wolverine, Mountaineer or Panther (Forget that last one-nonexample in honor of the family I adore), we are receiving an education that will serve to catapult our chosen career path despite the mascot on our t-shirt.

In my case, I was never even sure of my major at UCF. I had never played school or teacher as a young girl. In fact, having been an only child until I was eighteen, I never even wanted to babysit. Yet, when the time came to declare a major, a major I declared….Elementary Education. Not the big money choice but a career that offered an honorable position, a career with integrity, and the opportunity to spend my days with adorable young people.

However, a decision that began with mild trepidation in 1987, has become decisively the best choice I could have made over the last 27 years. There is nothing quite like watching the metaphorical light ignite in the mind of a student. When something that was vague and intangible becomes accessible and a student’s self worth skyrockets simply because you lit the lamp.

I am fairly certain that no other “job” would ever fill my soul the way teaching does…maybe dancing on Broadway…but that ship sailed years ago.

In the case of my career…clarity came with experience, not initial inspiration.

I think we seek clarity in all areas of our life. In fact, if given the opportunity to plan it, we even start a family earnestly hoping the timing aligns with our heart’s desire to have, hold and nurture a child.  We buy a house only after numerous weekends have been dedicated to finding the perfect home, with the perfect yard,  in the perfect neighborhood.

But are we ever certain…

I simply can’t answer that. I wish I could.

How much easier decisions in life would be if, like an electric guitar tuner, the needle would point left or right of center indicating…too sharp…too flat…red, red, yellow, yellow, yellow, GREEN.

The truth is we have truly only one option. Pray…wait…listen…hope…and step out in faith.

If Peter had gone with his gut…what gravity and density had always taught him about water…he would never have stepped out of the boat. Jesus had called to him, “Come.” Peter responded in faith…until he saw the wind, the waves, and felt his feet sinking. I’m thinking his clarity must have waivered there. Yet, faith required he look past the waves to the wave maker. His only assurance were the words spoken to Him once his hand was safely in his Savior’s… “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Why do we doubt…Why do I doubt? I guess because I want clarity. I want to know that I know. I want to be sure…

So until clarity comes…until it is His voice I hear…I will be still and know… that I know… that He is God…Psalm 46:10 

In Precious Hope…

Heather

#psalms #matthew14

It’s been a few weeks since my last post …for good reason.   Much has happened since…one of my dearest friends has learned her sweet daddy will soon rest in the arms of the Savior he has loved and served so well for 68 wonderful years, another’s father quite unexpectedly made that same journey leaving his children longing for just a few more precious moments… adorable babies have been born…birthdays have been celebrated… Decisions have been made. All important chapters marking either the beginning or the end…

Reading has always been a passion for me, an escape to another time and place where my soul could rest for a season in the journey of another. A great book, a quiet house or a beach chair along side the Gulf of Mexico, and I am golden…usually.

Yet, the last few weeks, escape would have been impossible even if I had actively sought it. The depth of emotion I have experienced while mourning with those whose hearts I treasure has kept my feet firmly planted on terra firma. I have been overwhelmed with the reality that, despite our best efforts to distract ourselves to the contrary, chapters close.

Over the course of my lifetime, once acquiring the skill to decode and comprehend, I have read books where each carefully crafted chapter subtly and subconsciously draws you along.   Sentences are constructed and strewn together in such a way that putting the book down is not an option. It’s only the glance at the clock that the page is finally dog-eared.

I’ve also read others where finishing the chapter was simply a goal in an effort to dot the i, cross the t and raise high the banner, Not A Quitter, even when quitting would have clearly been the better choice. Hours of my life I’ll never get back.

Either way…both were full of chapters.

Within the pages of a lifelong manuscript, there are chapters that are closed by God where, with tear filled eyes, we simply submit to His perfect will to slide the page from between our fingers. These are chapters closed where faith and trust are paramount like those my sweet friends are living out even today.

Chapters close for other reasons too. Sometimes we turn the page ourselves. There are times when the path is clear and the signs are well marked. These are easy chapters to turn often filled with great anticipation and even joyful exuberance. Sometimes, when turning the page, we believe with our whole hearts that we have no other choice. Sometimes we are right. And other times, we’re not.

There are also times when the choice to turn the page is made by others. Despite heroic efforts and even faithful prayers, the chapter still ends. Freewill is free will. The page turns…

Let me not forget, however, those wonderfully redemptive chapters that lift our souls above the burdens of this world. That moment when after nine months of fear, prayer, faith, and nausea, you hold that precious perfect gift in your arms…and then three years later…again. Those friendships that despite all the years and the distance are a present force that have carried your heart from mountaintop to valley back to mountaintop… sometimes with you and sometimes for you.

Yet, all chapters grant a gift. It is from these chapters that we learn and without which we would stagnate. We grow, strengthen, transform from each and every one. There is a season and a time for all of them.

For all of the chapters I have already read and for the chapters I have yet to live out…I am grateful. For I know the chapters that are planned for me are to bring me joy and not to hurt me. They will bring me great hope and a future beyond that which I can imagine…. As will yours…

#Ecclesiastes #Jeremiah

Heather

I believe it was the first Sunday in May of 2014. The boys and I were attending Northland that morning. At one point in the message Joel spoke a phrase that would echo repeatedly throughout the upcoming year, “In the obedience comes the miracle.” I typed it into the notes on my phone…went home wrote it on a post-it note and…filled the jar.

The context of the message that particular morning was the first miracle of Jesus, turning the water into wine. He was referencing the obedience of the servants at the wedding at Cana. When Jesus said fill the jars with water, they did. They didn’t ask why. They didn’t question his motives. They didn’t negotiate. They filled the jars. They trusted him at his word…and they waited. In the right time, in this case immediately, the water was wine. Finished…Done…Handled…Vino.

So…flashback…I went home and filled my symbolic jar with water and placed it in my kitchen windowsill, fully trusting and waiting. Day after day I have washed the dishes at this sink at least twice a day for almost ten months now. And day after day I have watched in anticipation for my metaphorical miracle.

Here’s the rub…we like our miracles instant like the wine. At best, when we’re our most patient selves, we wait weeks, months, even years. Often I think we pray asking, pleading, crying out for that which our hearts desire and many times the healing occurs, the life is saved, the prodigal returns, restoration, the water is wine. Yet, sometimes…not.

This summer I read…a lot. Two of the most significant choices were, “A Grief Observed” by C.S. Lewis and “When God Doesn’t Make Sense” by James Dobson. I wanted to read the stories of those whose hearts were broken like mine, whose lives seemed fractured, whose ache was great.

I learned from both that in the end…prayer answered or not, He is still God. C. S. Lewis makes the declaration as he wrestles with the tragic loss of his wife “H” that unanswered prayers…loss… “tortures are necessary. For no even moderately good Being could possibly inflict or permit them if they weren’t.” To quote Dr. Jim Conway from Dobson’s book, “It’s either despair, or it’s the acceptance of His sovereignty. Those are the alternatives. It’s either despair, or it’s God.” I choose God.

You see, I have no other choice. I still have water. I know in actuality that the H2O would never have chemically altered to become a jar full of Cabernet or Pinot Noir. But…I was expecting a specific, easily defined “miracle.” I had hoped for one, prayed for one, pleaded even. Not to be. Yet, to say I haven’t received one would be untrue.

“In the obedience comes the miracle.” This blog is evidence. My courage is evidence. My hope is evidence. You would have to have lived in my heart and head for the past thirty-one years to fully understand. Even with full access to my journals and an unabridged historical account, you could never truly comprehend. And that’s ok.  Just please know miracles do happen.  I am no longer afraid of the unknown… no longer afraid of solitude…no longer afraid. Miraculous. I know that I know…water or wine…I am His and He is mine…and that is enough.

#John 2

Heather

Don’t get me wrong. I love football. Well, maybe love is too strong. I enjoy it.  I really do. Many of my wonderful childhood memories involve a Sunday afternoon game, my daddy, Planters dry roasted peanuts and Coke. I also thoroughly enjoy Super Bowl commercials. I laugh…I cry. They’re brilliant. This post is not really about football or the commercials at all, but perspective. Hear me out.

If the figure I have is correct…then a 30 second commercial for tonight’s Super Bowl XLIX, Patriots vs. Seahawks, bears the cost of $2,800,000. Let me repeat that more clearly to insure comprehension…30 seconds…2.8 million dollars.   That’s approximately $93,333 a second.   “Buy a dog.” That will be 93K, sir.

This past Friday I was blessed with the opportunity to assist our school’s enrichment program in the cooking classes. Each week students in these elective classes are taught to prepare dishes that represent countries from all over the world…amazing, delicious recipes always.   This Friday, the students had placed a special request… American football fare. And so it was…

This post is not about the food, though. We had a list of Super Bowl trivia to cover as the foods were prepared and then enjoyed. Such as…the first Super Bowl was played January 15, 1967 between the Green Bay Packers and the Kansas City Chiefs. The Packers took the championship 35 to 10. Or…700,000 footballs are produced annually for the NFL alone. But it was the $2,800,000…30 second commercial that captivated us all.

It was here that the educator in my soul took over. How else might that same 2.8 million be spent? Students, teacher and assistant together brainstormed a list…a cross curriculum blending of skills if you will…Read to the bottom please and keep in mind I am a language girl not a math girl…(all estimates are approximate)

With $2,800,000 you could:

buy   11        $250,000 houses…cash…no mortage (3/2)

buy   28       $100,000 Mastercraft wakeboarding boats

buy   33       $84,000 Porsche 911s or Corvette Z06s if you prefer to buy domestic

buy 46,666  $60 video games for Xbox 360 or Playstation 4

buy 56,000  $50 manicure/pedicures (That’s 1 a week for 1,076 years)

support 370 children around the globe with the World Vision Organization ($35/month for 18 years -$7560)

dig 186     $15,000 Clean water-village sized wells in Africa

build 736 $3800 small family dwellings with cement floors and durable walls with a rain water

collection system in Honduras

give 200,000 $14 Bibles changing 200,000 lives

If each of those 200,000 then share the hope that can only come through the love of Christ with 14 others…then 2,800,000 lives will have been changed…saved…something a Clydesdale horse, as magnificent as they are,  could never do.

As it turns out, new estimates found just this morning through an internet search has a 30 second spot in tonight’s game running for around $4,000,000 to $4,500,000.  As this is a post about perspective and not math, I will not be reworking my numbers.  Also, and for the record, capitalism is still the most effective economic system out there and the United States of America is still the greatest country on earth.  Go Patriots!  Go Seahawks!  Play Ball…wrong sport…I know…

We remember …your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. Thessalonians

Heather