Unforgotten

As in any family, there are times when words come out a little harsher and a lot more hurtful than was intended.  As a mom, it was one of my jobs not just to keep the peace, but help our daughters know the impact of their words.

"They may not remember what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel," once wrote Christian theologian Carl W. Buechner.

Choose carefully. Words are not returnable. Final sale.

And so, in the midst of a harsh or hurtful situation, I would ask my young offender, "How differently could you say that?"

It helped them to think first about the impact not just of what they said, but more importantly, HOW they said it.

Our youngest daughter had Mrs. O as a first grade teacher, a gentle and tiny woman who had an incredibly well-behaved and happy classroom.  She had some very rambunctious students that year, but she never raised her voice.  The children not only heeded her direction, they absolutely adored her.

I asked her how she did it.  "Velvet over steel," she replied.  She was firm but radically kind.

Pleasant speech increases persuasiveness.
                                  Proverbs 16.21

Kind words are always appropriate, even more so when harshness is expected.

The words I utter do not just impact the hearer, they impact the outcome, they impact the relationship, and they impact my heart.

How is my heart reflected in those words?
How is my heart changed by those words?
            For better or for worse.

Words heal.  Or words wound.

You choose.

Pleasant words are like honeycomb,
sweetness to the soul
and health to the body.
                 Proverbs 16.24

How differently can I say this?

Choose wisely.
Choose kindly.






 

Am I forgetting something?

Before any trip or excursion -- or before the day at hand -- I say outloud, "What am I forgetting?" as I pack the car and peruse my appointments and errands.  A box to take, a bag to return, and my running shoes, in case there is time for a run.  There have been far too many occasions that I have found myself at the entrance of Kroger, wondering outloud, "what is it I need to get?" My list forgotten on the counter at home and my mind a blank.

But what is most significant of all is not a list, nor a bag, but a realization that I am not alone in this.  It is not that I leave God behind.  It is not that I forget to take God along, stuffed in my purse for a desperate moment.

It is that I simply forget God.  "I am with you," He reminds me throughout Scripture.  God is not along for the ride; He is navigating me through this -- through victory and defeat, through the mountains, through the miry bog, big decisions, and the daily choices that are even more life-changing.

God has not forgotten me, but quite the opposite.  I have forgotten Him.  It is not that God needs to show up. God does not suddenly appear when I call. He is there all along, waiting for me to realize that.

In the early darkness the day of a marathon a few years ago, I read my Scripture for the day, before I left for that daunting task.  And God highlighted a verse for me that morning that I carried with me all 26.2 miles and engraved in my heart for even bigger tasks.

Our help is in the name of the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.

                          Psalm 124.8

God reminded me of that reality every mile of that journey.  The verse did not make the marathon suddenly shorter or less painful.  But it reminded me of His Presence.  And that made the significant difference. I wrote in the margin of my Bible right next to that verse:  "I need to say this ten times a day. And repeat as needed."

And so, as I head into this day, what am I forgetting?

I am not alone.

And the joy was heard

I don't particularly like hockey. Indeed, I don't quite know what is going on. But this much I understand:  it is not all about ice and a puck.

Several years ago after my husband and I had moved back to Chicago, we were out for a walk on an early summer night after supper.  Block after block in our neighborhood, windows were wide open to let in the cool evening breezes.  As we walked through town, we also noticed a large number of televisions turned to high volume, surrounded by adults and even small children long after their bedtimes. We could see flickering lights on living room walls.  And that was when we first heard the roar.

I looked at my husband.  "What was that all about?"

He just smiled, "The Black Hawks just scored."

We didn't even have to turn on our television to know how the Black Hawks were doing in the Stanley Cup playoffs.  We could hear the wild cheering from our neighbors' homes. There was the sound of great rejoicing, coursing down the streets.  And often after we had already retired for the night, about midnight or so, the sound of a firework or two would penetrate the darkness.

"Black Hawks must have won," we would recognize from our bed.

Our next door neighbor had Black Hawk jerseys of every size and style, hanging on her clothesline for weeks, like prayer flags blowing in the early summer breeze.

The Black Hawks won the playoffs in 2010, that first year we heard the roar, and then again in 2013.

We live in a different city now, so far away in distance and culture, and so much has transpired in our lives since that time.  But last evening as I worked on some correspondence, I felt compelled to turn on the television for the first game of  the 2015 Stanley Cup playoffs.  It was not so much to watch the squirmishes on the ice, but to listen to that familiar roar of the crowd all the way from Chicago.

I needed that.

I could hear our neighbors once again, their thundering joy right through our windows.

And it made me smile from afar.


And they offered great sacrifices that day and rejoiced, for God had made them rejoice with great joy; the women and children also rejoiced. And the joy of Jerusalem was heard afar off.  (Nehemiah 12.43)

Being all here

There is a strange restlessness that diminishes my sight,
      colors my day a putty-grey,
and tunes my eyes to somewhere
                    where I am not,
a place where nothing is hard,
everything would be right again,
          and there is no fear
          weeds
          or potholes.

But I am here today.
And His Presence
  brings a significance I cannot grasp,
His purposes
  extend deeper than I can see,
  even in a million thankless tasks.
             nothing too small,
       a cup of cold water
            the highest ministry of saints.
God's subversive ways turn the world
                    right side up.
Nothing is lost,
no detail is wasted.

Help me, O LORD,
   not to be distracted by what appears an ordinary landscape,
nor hindered by the beckoning of a greener pasture
             nor even by the plaintive cry of "what's next?"
   but know You have placed me strategically 
                                        where I am this day,

Be Thou my vision.

Surely the LORD is in this place,
     and I did not know it.

                       Genesis 28. 16

A cool calm breeze

In these mornings before the heat and humidity take up their summer home, there is often a cool breeze in the early part of the day. By afternoon, the heat takes hold, but right now, before the day kicks in, I open up the back door and let the refreshing breeze swirl into our closed up spaces.  The coolness has a calming impact, the little birds chirp in the evergreen trees, even more birds join the chorus from our neighbors' trees.

The breeze flows through the house and starts the day on a different strength.  I have let in a changing  element.  As I feel the coolness surround me, changing the static air of a closed up dwelling, I am aware that in Scripture, the word for Spirit is the same Greek word for "wind."

God's Spirit blows into my life and changes things up.  His wind lets me breathe, even in impossible situations.  Indeed the word "inspire," means "God-breathed."

Fill my lungs, O LORD.  Fill my heart with Your cool calm breeze, no matter what the day may bring. Your peace takes over.  You start the day anew.

Peace I leave with you;
My peace I give to you;
not as the world gives
do I give to you.
Let not your hearts be troubled,
       neither let them be afraid.

                     John 14. 27

Breathe, my friend.