The fight that's worth it.

“For my birthday I got a humidifier and a de-humidifier...
I put them in the same room and let them fight it out.”

-Steven Wright

Last week, after school I was presented with a ticket to a very special hockey game that was about to commence in the Upstairs Loft, Row 1, Seat 1, in short order. The ticket was from my seven year old son, Isaac. He also made a separate ticket for Eden, and one for Roxy, the dog.

While he was waiting for us to “arrive” at the game (I needed time to make tea), the players practised on the “ice.” When we arrived, I realized that there was no one to sing the National Anthems (gasp), so I grabbed a nearby drumstick and stole the honour for myself.  Isaac waited patiently for the ridiculous part of the show to end, feigning interest. After I was done or mostly done (no...I don’t know all the words to the "Star Spankled Manner"), I took my spot in the seating area.


ã 2011 Isaac Bedwell, All Rights Reserved
As you can see from the ticket, the Montreal Canadiens were playing the Bruins. Or something like that. It gets complicated from there because there is only one player and he has 10 different names, and 6 different positions. At any point there could be a handful of players in the penalty box and no one ever knows where the referee really went.  I do try to pay attention.

But my biggest challenge is trying to figure out which team to cheer for because I can’t tell whose side my Isaac is actually on.

Isaac is a “fighter.” You see, he can be on anyone’s team at any time, and because he transfers his enthusiastic play-by-play to favour whomever is winning at the time, it is difficult to focus. On one hand, I suppose it makes for good entertainment because you never know who is going to win, but personally, I find that I really enjoy the intermission: This is the part of the game where Roxy is allowed on the ice to play (I make circus music while she chases the ball).

I’m getting to my point. You almost have to see it to believe it. It happens when the offense goes in for the score. The most impressive part is the interaction between the offensive player and goalie. Isaac will actually stand in net and chip the puck backwards towards himself with his stick and dive to save it with his body. 

My point is that on that day, Isaac was fighting against himself.

Some days we are not much different. We beat ourselves up over things that we can not possibly control and were not responsible for.

You see, although Isaac is always scoring, he is also always being scored on.

And every day you fight for something.

Some fight themselves.
  Some fight those around them.
     Some fight to stay alive.
        Some fight to believe again.
          ...And some fight to live with JOY.

I get it. We all do. It’s part of being human. You were born to fight for something.

But sometimes in our "fight or flight" spontaneous reaction, we can fight the wrong thing.
...Sometimes we forget, and save our punches for people who are on the same team.

Today...save your energy for the battle that matters.

“My heart and kidneys are fighting each other; Call a truce to this civil war.”

-Psalm 25:17 (MSG)

I want change.

Routine is a cherished commodity in my day.  Peace and Joy dance alongside when it happens, and it welcomes my day with the kiss of predictability.  Uhhh...well, on the days that it exists, it does.  Admittedly, there are a few pressing times a year that the life of my routine becomes threatened like a goldfish cracker in a room of pre-schoolers: 
          Christmas and Summer.

This time of year is wonderful, don't get me wrong.  Every year my routine is challenged, I get better at rolling with the punches, but, I have to admit, this has taken practice.

Case in point:  A few nights ago I decided that I was going to challenge my routine:  Tonight, I am going to sleep on my back, I decided.  Why?  Simply because, I never sleep on my back.  I was stuck in a routine.  And, this one was harder than I thought to get out of.  It didn't feel natural.  I kept wanting to roll to my side.  I couldn't get sleepy.  All for the sake of challenging my routine, I refused to give in, and I am happy to announce that I have successfully fallen asleep on my back for three entire nights.  Just because.  And, no, I didn't stay that way (I'd need different tools if I were going to challenge my unconscious mind)...but I fell asleep that way, and thus, survived. 
Did I like it? 
NO! 
Was it good for me? 
Sure. 
Let's say it was. 
I'm challenging my sense of control this year...by intentionally losing it, one day at a time.

Some might say:  "Mayhem!  Anarchy!  Pointless challenge!" 
I say:  Baby steps, people, baby steps.

Yesterday my son's advent calendar was driving me CRAZY.  I think most, if not all of the little doors were open.  OPEN!!  We're talking 11 days of doors here.  Just to demonstrate to him how I felt, I opened all the cupboard doors in the kitchen and told him that what he was doing with his calendar was like if I left the kitchen like this. 

His reply:  "So, what's wrong with that?"  (Apparently he has missed the memo that says a kitchen with all the cupboard doors shut is a happy kitchen.) I had to explain that if doors were meant to be open all the time, they wouldn't be needed.  I'd like to say that he has had a revelation about the "why" in door-keeping duties, but after leaving the front door of the house wide open tonight for over an hour, I realized that I was the one being challenged here. 

So I...instead of trying to bring him over to my side (because who says my way is the only way?), have been faced with the reality that I must first change myself.

I guess you could say I have been inspired by the daily journey of the wisemen in our house.  They started their trek towards the star 11 days ago.  Every year, they travel around the house (at night of course, that's the only time they can see the star)...and it takes the poor lads the better part of the month to find the baby.  Already the journey has been treacherous:  there has been no semblance of routine for them.  They don't even know where they are getting their next meal from!  Already they've travelled aboard pirate ships and housesat at Barbie's house, and one of them keeps losing his head.  Twice.  But they're not dead yet (ie. the dog hasn't got them yet).  And, although they make the journey every year, not even the routing is predictable.  Each night they have no clue what to expect. 

And although I am far from a wooden wisemen, I am learning to let a little spontaneity fill my day a little bit more during this season.  It's my gift to myself.

"Later, a great many people from the Gerasene countryside got together
       and asked Jesus to leave—
             too much change, too fast, and they were scared.
So Jesus got back in the boat and set off." 

                                               (Luke 8:37 MSG)

I don't want you to miss out on what God has for you because you are afraid of change.  God help us.

Buh-Bye Ol' Buddy Ol' Pal

November 22nd was like any other day, except that it was my last day with glasses.  I sat down late that night to write a tribute in my journal that I would like to share with you, and ask you to join me in saying
                                                   farewell to a very, very old friend.

I can say that I will miss their sense of style - even waaay back in the 80s when they were larger than tennis balls and thicker than pop bottles, with a thick red chord tied behind my ears to keep them from slipping down my (then) tiny nose. 

They were always there for me, even when I couldn't see them.  It wasn't their fault they got lost when they were only inches away.  That would have been hard on anyone's ego...let alone a pair of glasses whose entire purpose of being noticed, seen, and assisting in sight was what they were created for.  There were quite a few misunderstandings about this over the years, but we always moved on without much of a fight.  After all, at the time, we were made for each other.

It was the day that the dog got them and chewed through the arms that I knew their life was limited.  Those ones were brand new.  I couldn't keep doing this.  It was a sign that their presence in my life, their importance, my total dependence, was somehow waning, and a new alternative option was becoming very evident. 

Two days post surgery I sit here on my computer and laugh because of all the things that seem to be the same, and all the things that have changed.  My house is dirtier.  The Christmas lights at night are prettier.  And when I see myself now, I've changed.  There is nothing in between me and the mirror anymore, it's just me.  No smudges, scratches, dirt.  I blink, and I'm still clear.  Well, I mean, there is dirt on the mirror that I never noticed before...

I'm soooo happy.  But an old friend of mine is sitting in front of me in a tiny black coffin, and I don't know what to do with them.  A life has been lived with them, like it or not.  They have held a place on my (growing) nose for over 27 years.  I have cleaned them, bent them (bad dream), broke them down the middle (cold day), replaced them, popped the lenses out of them (raking), scratched them, lost them, and found them again.  Many years of sight have been made possible because of them.  But now what?  Do I keep them?  Frame them (pun intended)?  Throw them away?  Give them to a poor blind soul who wouldn't mind the scratches, dog-chewed arms, or customized, one-of-a-kind very high prescription?  I don't know.  I hold loosely, yet I treasure the sight made possible once upon a time... 

Yet, too soon, I will forget a life spent with old limitations.  Now, the same.  But different.  Vulnerable in an entirely new way.  Possibility is now at my doorstep.  New things, great things, are on my bucket list that were never there before. Like running in the rain. And I can't wait to reach what was once very difficult before.

What is your old limitation...once a friend, now a reminder of the past?  How much does your new possibility have in store for you? 

First item on my list:  run in the rain.

"He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it." 
-Phil. 1:16

just doing what it takes to get the fish

Clumps of mud fall off his too-big too-blue gum boots as David carries his "load" of goodies to the middle of the bridge.  Gingerly, he places the full pail of tackle he "borrowed" from his dad on the bridge.  With this much bait, he'd better catch something good, and he just knew that today was
...his day. 
He shrugged off the pressure as he began to tune into the sound of the rushing stream flowing underneath him, and the excited feeling of potential calmed his twisted tummy better than eating a handful of jelly beans.

Pulling the specially selected fishing stick out of his back pocket, he felt guilty for only a brief moment as he pulled a strand of yarn out of his bucket that he had snagged from his grandma's knitting bag.  Ahhhh...beautiful bucket...full of...
worms.

Adventure wasn't a word he really knew the definition of, and he didn't know how to spell it either (neither would he have really cared that he couldn't unless his sister kept reminding him)...but he knew he was on one. 
A big one. 
So...Tying one end of the string with the best knot he knew how to the stick and then around a big juicy worm, he flung it over the edge of the bridge waiting to hear the sound of the plop, just like dad's.

It must have been pure bliss in his imagination, because the sound of the plop was juuuuust right, so when he waited 30 seconds and hadn't caught a fish yet, he wondered what could have possibly gone wrong!  He climbed up the side of the railing to get a good look at the situation.

Narrowing for his inspector eyes, he analyzed the situation for a brief moment.  He couldn't see that the worm was slipping off, the string didn't reach the water, nor that the jelly beans (yep they were real) were starting to color the water funny shades of blue and green...and niether did he care.  He had waited all his life for this moment and no one could take away the pride he'd feel from catching his first fish all on his own. 

This couldn't have been more glorious. 

Well, except for the fish part.  Or lack of fish part. 
Patience.
He popped another handful of jelly beans into his mouth so he could bear waiting another 45 seconds tops.  Oh yes, he was patient.

Without further adieu, he cast worry aside and began to reel in on his imaginary Lamiglas extra fast action rod and breathed a sigh of determination:  Nothing could hold this boy back...for he was going to catch a
fish.
And he had an idea.

No sooner had the (brilliant) idea popped in his head than he had flung the bucket of worms over the side of the bridge, dumping them all (yep...all) into the water.  He climbed up on the railing again to watch them squirm, bob, and float.  He marveled at the way they seemed to swim downstream, beckoning the fish if they dared. 

What happened next can only be told in a story like this one.  We can't be quite sure it actually happened.  While no one was looking, David could spare no more time.

In a moment of sheer insanity, he flung his stick to the side, grabbed the empty pail, and ran to the bottom of the bridge. At the edge of the water, he paused only long enough to wonder how proud mom would be if he wore his boots in the biggest puddle ever.  And in he went.
All in.

The water was cold.  He didn't notice.
He lost all his worms.  He didn't care.
The fishing rod of his wildest imagination didn't work.  He didn't worry.

Carefully, he pushed the bucket under the water, watching it fill up quickly with cold water, a worm, green swirls, and...a minnow!

Fish:  captured.
Mission: accomplished.
Adventure:  cold.  wet.  messy.
Childhood:  restored.

He could hardly wait to eat it.
His fish.

THE END


 "Just think—you don't need a thing, you've got it all!
All God's gifts are right in front of you
as you wait
expectantly
for Jesus to arrive on the scene for the Finale.
And not only that, but God himself is right alongside to keep you steady and on track until things are all wrapped up by Jesus.
God, who got you started in this spiritual
adventure,
shares with us the life of his Son and our Master Jesus.
He will never give up on you. Never forget that."

    (1 Cor 1:7 MSG)

The sooner you give up, the better...

What is a flaming arrow?

I'd have to say most of the time (for me) they are bad thoughts. 

Many times when we are sent flaming arrows from the enemy, we turn our backs to them, because they are shameful and hurt our pride.  It seems like a good enough protective stance, after all, if a bear were attacking, this is the position we would naturally fall into. 

However, because we are facing the wrong way, what the enemy says about us begins to seep in. We take on what he says as though it is truth. When you begin believing the lies, you will begin feeling these things: 
    tired,
          overwhelmed,
                         confused,
        guilt & shame,
and lack of time to do what you want to do.

Although it is human nature to think you are protecting yourself by turning your back to the flaming arrows, you are actually just suffering silently.  For a while, your shoulders seem to tolerate the burden. After all, the temptations are ugly, and they stink like garbage.  Nobody would want to know.  But because our backs are facing the wrong direction, the enemy keeps us silent. When we are silent, he has us isolated. Alone. Heavy. And suffering.

God allows it because you're shouldering your own burden, and you haven't realized you can't beat it on your own yet.

This is just a call to turn around!!  NOW!!!

I just want to encourage you to turn around and face the enemy. That way the glory of God can be your rear guard. Call out what you're feeling. Call out the crap. Tell the truth and admit what you've been thinking. Confront the lies and confess what you've been dealing with. Tell God how you feel. What you lack. How needy you are to push through, and how you can't get any better on your own.

When you do this, you are resisting the devil, and he has no choice but to flee.

Take a load off.

Give up.

Give in.

finally showing partiality...

Today I discovered why I call this blog my "escape hatch" (it takes me a while, but eventually my brain catches up to my fingers).  I want to write about how life feels like standing on the latch of a trap door that will release at any moment.  But that door is actually not a trap, it's an escape.  A welcome Paradox in it's primitive form. 

For instance, having "preferences" is one of those areas that I thought was a trap, but lately I've been experiencing it as an escape.  In the past, I felt GUILT for having "Preferences"...I was suckered in by my own comparisons that seemed to tell me that I needed to embrace a wide array of colors in order to be open-minded and approachable.  Anything else was just intolerance...or so I thought.

Meanwhile, trapped by my overgrown garden of "everything"...I never stopped wondering why I felt so inspired by Simplicity.  And Uniqueness. 

In the name of Maturity, I thought I had to like everything.  I steered clear of ever becoming a hateful favortist (new word) engaged in snobbery of the worst kind:  knowing what you like.  After all, if I knew what I liked, then that means there's something I don't like, and that means that I'm being cruel to something.

But lately, I've allowed myself to embrace a preference or two, if just for the fun of it.  I mean, if mosquitoes can have preferences, why can't I? 

In the meantime, I've had a lot of scary fun.
And discovered that having preferences means I'm different. 
Embracing them means I'm weird. 
...And sharing them means I'm now okay with it

So I'd like to introduce you to 3 things I like and don't like...in celebration of my new sense of Maturity.  Don't be alarmed.  I'm not a snob...I'm just discovering who I am.

1. I prefer the Thesaurus over the Dictionary 100:1
2. I prefer dark chocolate (85% cocoa) over any other kind (55% is like fake DARK)
3. I prefer Starbucks to...anything else.  The day Tim Hortons makes me a decaf tall soy extra hot americano misto light water with foam and half sweet caramel I'll re-consider

OK.  Those were the only three I could think of.  I'll work on getting some more.

Inspired?  or Disgusted?
I promise I'll still love you if you want to meet at Tim Hortons for a double-double and white chocolate.  If you bring your Dictionary maybe you could teach me a new word and I'll expound upon it for you...

words I love

these are the words I love
and why
I do:

scuttle: is more than a word.  it's a thing that reaches deep inside like a tickle and frolics around my house like popcorn that is never eaten up

storm:  because it describes in one word what is going on with a flood of emotion that could not be otherwise described

longing:  the hunger for more that never goes away.  I carry longing like a spare pair of shoes that fit every situation...whether sweatpants, jeans or dress 

thesaurus:  describes an old house filled with empty rooms of potential...of which there is always more...And it's alive like a mischievous mouse that screeches when you catch it!  Gotchya!! you rapacious rat

red:  is the color of expansion (there is always room for red)

recipe:  the villian I love to hate.  secretly, I mull it over with momentary consideration...but my favorite part of this word is the JOY that comes from conquering its suffocating contract of mere suggestion

wonder:  because there is always time to stop everything for it

promise:  the substance of what I cling to but don't deserve to have.  always remembering, hoping, reminding, and pursuing

"His words are kisses,

His kisses words.

Everything about Him

delights me,

thrills me

through and through!

That's my Lover..."

(Song of Solomon 5:10, The Message)