Ad libitum

Note:  Ad libitum is often translated "at one's pleasure" or "at liberty" or "freely".

I had a conversation with a friend the other evening and she made the comment that as humans we like order, which led us to a discussion about how God never seems to do the same thing twice.  I would like to take you on a wandering journey now, which may seem random, but in reality, this is what it's about--ad libitum.  I have told you this ahead of time, because if you are at all like me, you want to know where we are going before we leave. 

I have learned a lot about myself over the years by observing my children.  One thing I have learned is that I appreciate "order" especially as it pertains to planning my day.  One of my favorite memories of Laura is that of her little 18-month-old self at my 23rd birthday party.  Mom had bought her a present as well, so that she would have something to open (very smart Grandma!!).  I believe it was a little stuffed toy.  Laura tore the paper off, opened the box, played with the little stuffed toy and when she was done, she put it back in the box and tried to put the paper back on.  Apparently, it was supposed to be in the box, wrapped up.  That's where it lived, that's where "away" was.  I cannot tell you how many Breyer boxes we brought home from birthdays and Christmases over the years because things came in a box and so they belonged in the box when we were done!  As I sit here typing, on the shelves above me (the last vestiges of when Laura used to occupy this room) are several Breyer boxes, with models inside. When she was a preschooler, she would order her day and woe to me if I brought something unexpected into it!  I learned very quickly to give her a run-down at the beginning of the day of the things I planned to do that included her, and then I dare not change that!   A simple thing like going to the grocery store had to be planned for.  My child liked order. 

My son is the same way.  I guess I am as well.  I roll a little better with the punches now that I am older, but I suspect, in my younger years, I was very much like they are. 

I don't know if everyone is that way.  I suspect we all are to some degree.  This brings me back to my discussion with my friend.  In our walks with God, we would very much like it if He would say to us.  "Okay, here is today's agenda" or even "In the next few years, these things are going to happen.  This is what I intend for the end result to be."  but God doesn't seem to work that way in our lives.  Life with God is a wandering ramble.  He doesn't hand us a syllabus so we can pace ourselves, or read ahead when we have extra time or energy,or set aside study time for the midterms and tests He has planned for us.  

When I was in college, I spent a couple years working for this ancient dairyman. (Okay, to my 20-year-old self he was ancient, but he was really only in his 60s.)  He used to write me out a list of what needed to be done, so when I got to the barn, I could just look at the list and get started.  But there were times when my list intersected with his list for himself, like when we would haul heifers out to some location or he needed me to guard a gate when he was cleaning out an occupied pen with the tractor, or when we needed to get a load of hay.  These were often special times, because he was so full of knowledge about everything.  He knew the calls of every bird, their habits, their looks.  He knew every plant that grew in the area, what it was good for, and what the Indians had used it for.  He knew what the land looked like a hundred years ago and where it used to flood and where buildings used to stand, which had long since been torn down.  But I always had my list in the back of my head, and I was 20 years old, and so I tended to listen, but also keep him on task.  As time went on, I got better about listening and letting myself get taken off task.  What he knew, and what I'm still learning, is that life is about relationships and relationships take time.  

It is with great fondness that I remember our walks through the fields, where he would touch my arm and put his finger to his lips and whisper, "listen" and there would be some bird whistling, or we were approaching a china pheasant that I had not seen, or he would direct my attention to a plant growing over there.  And when I think about life and my walk with God, I am reminded of my time with the old farmer.  Often God will say, "Let's head in this direction," and my mind will look that way and see what's in the distance and think, "Aha, a destination".  But really, we aren't headed to the end of that road, there is just an interesting flower that God wants me to see, or a china rooster hidden in the tall grass.  Life with God is a meandering walk through His creation.  He has a lot to teach us.  We don't need to know the plan, the syllabus, the time-table, even the stops on the road.  We only need to hold His hand and pay attention, because life is about the relationship, not the destination. 

On Voices

When someone dies, if we do not have a picture of them to remind us what they looked like, our vision of them fades; but quite often we can still hear their voice.  I can still hear my brother singing, I can still hear his laugh, I can still hear his shy "Aww" with all its sing-song, gravelly inflections, when someone gave him praise or a hug.  I was pondering this when it occurred to me that we probably develop hearing long before we develop vision.  When I was pregnant with my daughter, I lived with my parents.  When my daughter was about 8 hours old, her grandma held her and talked to her and their eyes met, and my daughter gazed into her eyes and listened to her for nearly half an hour.  This is the voice she had heard for months before she was born.  Once it was muffled, but now it was clear.  

I was at a memorial service today and the voice of the man behind me was so rich and full and it was pure pleasure to listen to him.  I have heard voices that are  not so pleasant to listen to.  I wonder what makes a voice pleasant or not.  I wonder if all voices can be pleasant if used in a loving way--and I wondered if this man's voice could be unpleasant if he were angry and yelling.

As I was pondering his voice, and why it made me feel so wonderful, there was a reading from the gospel of John.  "...and the sheep follow him because they know his voice..."  I thought about how lovely the voices of the people I love are to me; how when I hear Laura's "Hi" when she comes in the front door I cannot help but smile or I hear my dad say, "Hi, Jode," how I feel all safe inside. I remember when Gary and I were engaged, how I would listen for his voice and get all giddy inside when I heard it.  In the Song of Songs, Lover says to his Beloved, "Let me hear your voice."   In Psalm 55, "Morning, evening and noon I cry out and he hears my voice."

Not only do we recognize our shepherd's voice, but he recognizes our voices.  The shepherd knows his sheep by voice.  Each voice is unique and he knows us by voice.

~~~

Listen! My lover!
    Look! Here he comes,
leaping across the mountains,
    bounding over the hills.

I listen intently for His voice.  He calls me by a name He has given me, which no one else knows.   My heart rejoices at the sound of His voice.  I long to hear Him singing as He goes about His work.  I will run to His side and hold Him, and never let Him go.

His voice pierces my heart.

Remember What I Have Done For You

I had a discouraging eye appointment today. A "blister" persists in my eye that is keeping me from having any central vision. My doctor told me that there are two options to fix it, but they only "might" work.

I am discouraged. I was looking for some encouragement and turned back to my own blogs. Last night in church, we sang a song with the line in it "as deep cries out to deep". I knew I had written a blog with that title once before but could not remember what it was about. And Gordon had talked about "shallow" and "deep" times with God. On my way to finding "Deep Cries Out to Deep", I re-read my posts of the last year, and I was encouraged. I was encouraged at remembering all the ways that God has come through for me this year. I am convinced that ALL OF US need to be writing down what God has done for us, so that we can go back and look when we are discouraged, and get renewed hope!

But in a sense, even my own history is like events of the past cheering me on to make it through this day too. I don't want to have run a good race, only to quit before the finish line. I want to finish strong!

Laura inherited a parallel Bible from Grandma Smiley, and in it, she found notes in Gma's hand, that must have been written when she was young. And I think about the race Grandma ran, and race that the people around me are running; and I am not alone. I am strengthened by the great athletes around me. I am honored to be running the race with them, behind them, and in front of some of them.

So, remember what God has done for you!!

I'm pleased with you!

I recently found a journal of mine from 20 years ago. In it I wrote that I believed there were parts of me that God could not use, like my need to always be right. God is so patient. I asked Him, 20 years ago, to prune away the parts of me that He could not use. I suppose I still have that tendency, to always want to be right and to argue my point--at least to some extent. We cannot seem to cut away those things in ourselves very well. But it did occur to me that God gave me a son so very much like me in that area, that I get to see on a daily basis how difficult that trait is to live with and how it gets in the way of building relationships, and WHY it is important that that limb be pruned. As I look around at my relatives, I can see that this is a genetic trait that has been passed along. I can truly say that I come by it honestly. But that doesn't change how that trait affects our lives and relationships. And I suppose, there is nothing better to fix something in yourself than to see it in one of your children.

That aside, it's very disheartening to know that I saw that 20 years ago and STILL I am working on it!! It makes me feel like a failure. There are many things I have done right in my life, but many more that I have done wrong. I think, if you were to look at me from the "world's" perspective, you would have to say that on the whole I'm a failure. I don't have a high-paying job, a really nice, house, a manicured yard, or live in an uptown neighborhood, nor do I drive a snazzy car, have nice clothes, hang with the "in" crowd, read all the newest books or keep up with the latest movies or TV shows.

We recently heard a talk (sermon, if you will) that came from the Foursquare conference our pastors attended early this summer. The main point that the speaker was trying to make was that of utmost importance for our churches to thrive and grow was that the members remember the love they first had with Christ. He went on to talk about lots of other things that make churches "look" successful, but in the end, what makes them successful is how they relate to Christ. And one of the examples he used to illustrate this that touched me most deeply was the picture of Jesus' baptism. He said that the world would have waited until the end of Jesus' ministry to evaluate him, to say whether he had been "successful" or not. But the Father chose the very beginning of his ministry to express this. If you recall, when Jesus came up out of the water, the spirit descended on him like a dove and a voice from heaven said, "This is my son, in whom I am well pleased."

Those are words I need to hear every day. I need to hear God say to me, "You are mine, and I"m well pleased with you." It's not about my success in this world, it's about my response to Him.

Do You Hear Me?

About a year and a half ago, my husband had a stroke, leaving him much less able to work, and initially his short term memory made him a little dangerous in the kitchen, and he is unable to drive. Previously, he had most of the cooking and all of the shopping, while I worked a little bit, homeschooled our son, and took care of the outside chores. So all of a sudden I was left with a very heavy burden, not only doing all I had been doing before, which I had found exhausting, but now also having to add shopping (which I very much dislike) and cooking to my burden, as well as doubling my work load to try to keep our income up until we could get disability for my husband (a year later).

One day, when I was feeling completely exhausted, overwhelmed, and completely inadequate, the Lord gave me this scripture. Matthew 6. ²⁵ “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? ²⁶ Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? ²⁷ Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? ²⁸And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. ²⁹ Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ³⁰ If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? ³¹ So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ ³² For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. ³³ But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ³⁴ Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

And miraculously, throughout that year, though in the midst of it all I was losing my vision, the Lord DID provide, over and over again.

I had a rough day last week. I was given epinephrine as part of a block for laser surgery and an injection into my eye and I reacted very badly. So I spent several days careening between hypereuphoria and exhaustion and depression. So I wasn't dealing with the stresses that I normally have been handling just fine, and a little inkling of worry started to creep in. We have been told that our jobs may end this fall, and it's a scary proposition under normal circumstances, but when you can't see well, or if you have had a stroke and have limited abilities, the prospect of getting a job seems almost unsurmountable. And yet, I know God has a plan for us. He has just not shared it with us yet.

So Wednesday night, I was starting to let worry creep in just a bit. But after services a man handed me a napkin and said to me, "Jesus wants you to have this." Folded up inside the napkin was some cash. And I took it to mean that God was reassuring me that He has a plan for our future, that He knows our needs.
But of course, in the process of my ups and downs and lack of sleep and exhaustion I started to doubt what I thought I had heard. "It was just a coincidence." You know how that goes. But the next morning, out of the blue, my doctor's nurse calls and says to me, "Someone left some Levemir on my desk, and I wondered if you might want it?" Levemir is a type of insulin I take, and one of my worries about not having a job, is not being able to afford insulin. I had not called and asked; she just remembered me. It was as if God was saying. "Yes, you heard me correctly!" But of course, the thoughts persist. Perhaps she "happened" to think of me was because I had had surgery the day before and the chart note about it appeared on her desk at the same time. Just another coincidence.

I hate it when my mind does these things to me. Why can't I just KNOW?

So Sunday, at church, we have a guest speaker. Guess what scripture she picked for her sermon? Yup, Matthew 6:24-33. Well, just in case I was wondering. Yes, He said it a third time. "Do not worry. I know your needs."

The Devil is in the Details--I think NOT!!

Every little girl loves a wedding. We love to dress our dolls and walk them down the aisle to their Prince Charmings. When I was 6, the neighbor lady had made three Barbie wedding dresses and she asked me which one I liked best, saying she had a niece about my age and wanted to know which one to give her. When Christmas came, the dress I had picked, along with a bridesmaid's dress, was her gift to me. I was so thrilled. It was a lovely dress with a satin bodice, a princess waistline and a shimmery opalescent skirt.

When the time came for my own wedding, a day I thought would never come, quite frankly, as WHO would have ME? It was spring and we had planned a December wedding, and I was a large size, not exactly easy to find affordable ready-made wedding dresses. They were to be found, but were expensive. I had pretty much resolved that I would have to make my own. In June, when we asked our pastor if he would marry us, he said, "Sure! When were you thinking?" We told him December. He looked at us and said, "How about next month?" Uh, right. One month to plan a wedding, sure!!

Well, actually, it wasn't that hard, we had the pastor and the church. We just needed the cake and the clothes. The clothes....The DRESS!!! No time to make one, no money to buy one, what to do?

One of the most blessed gifts ever given to me came in a little white envelope with these words neatly printed in my best friend's tiny handwriting, "For your wedding dress" And inside was $60 cash that she had earned babysitting. Now, that was over 20 years ago, and babysitting was not exactly a high-paying job!! This gift, to me, in its extravagance, is right up there with the perfume that was poured on Jesus' feet. (Every month when I give my tithe, I ask God to multiply it, like he did the loaves and the fishes, and there is no doubt in my mind that a similar prayer was spoken over that little white envelope and its contents.)

I remember thinking at the time, "How far will this go?" But Gary said to me, "I just did an inventory and they had lots of plus-size dresses on sale, after the proms." So, in a very untraditional move, my groom took me shopping for my wedding dress. We narrowed it down to two and he picked one. It had a taffeta-like underskirt with a sheer top skirt that had little opalescent broken hearts all over it. And the price? You know it, $60.

I have always loved the story of the money, and how my groom picked out my dress. But what I didn't realize until recently, although I'm sure God knew it all along, as I think God provided that dress, is that it had a hint of the first wedding dress I ever loved, when I was a little girl. The opalescence.

If you ask me, it's God who is in the details!!

Cracked Pots

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course , the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream, 'I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.'

The old woman smiled, 'Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table.
Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.'

This is one of my favorite stories. Many of you know the struggles I am going through right now with my vision. We all have thorns in our sides of some type. I think the point is not that we be perfect, but that we let God use us as we are. After all, He made us, and he knows where we are broken. Best of all, like the woman in the story, God will use our weakness to bring beauty into the world, if we will let Him.