A Reminder When Life Creeps Up on You

I am not a parent, but I was a teacher, and I have had the experience of encountering kiddos I taught several years after they had left my class.  I may have taught them when they were tiny, and now, they are teenagers, or, in the case of those I worked with when they were in high school, they are adults now.  I have experienced something similar with people I went to school with.  In my mind, the kids who were in fourth or fifth grade when I graduated from eighth grade are perpetually fourth or fifth graders.  That is, until I see them again at Basement Dweller reunions, and then I think, oh yeah, I grew up, so they did too.

At these times, it’s tempting for me to think, oh geez, I’m OLD!  But then I have to take a step back and get some perspective.  I spent almost three years working at the same school as my former sixth grade homeroom teacher.  What must it have been like for her, seeing me in faculty meetings “all grown up”?  In the words of a song by the band They Might Be Giants:  “Time is marching on, and time… is still marching on!”

And because time is a pesky thing like that, life can have a tendency to creep up on us.  Before we know it, a whole month has gone by, or even a whole year.  Our experience of time can also be relative.  A week may seem to drag on and on endlessly, only for us to look back at the end of a month, and think, where did it go?

As I look toward the end of this month, next week, I’m having this feeling of “Wait, where did February go?”  Looking toward the future, I think, May is so far away, but it’s not!  It’s only two or so months away.  We’re running out of time to get ready for my brother’s wedding at the end of May.  I’m running out of time to get my RCIA candidate ready to complete his initiation by Easter in a month and a half.  WHERE DID THE TIME GO?

If you want to think of something really mind-bendingly weird, consider how God might experience the passage of time.  God is eternal.  He has always been and He will always be.  Yet, He cares for each one of us, even though our lifetimes must be less than a blink of an eye to Him.  Take a moment today to thank God for His constant care for you.

One Step at a Time

It’s really hard not to make comparisons between oneself and other people.  It is all too easy to look at others in one’s peer group and see all the ways in which other people seem to be doing so much better or be further along in their career paths and to dwell on one’s own perceived shortcomings.

God made each of us unique for a reason.  God has a plan for each of us, and it is impossible for us to know what that plan is.  That doesn’t mean that each individual’s choices don’t have an impact, or that it might not be discouraging for it to seem like one is behind or constantly trying to catch up to one’s peers.

Progress is made one step at a time.  For some, the steps are larger than for others.  For some, the steps are surefooted and certain.  For others, they are more hesitant.  One moves forward at one’s own pace, trying to make sure not to slip and fall backwards.

It is important to have trust in the process.  It is important to recognize when God provides challenges as an opportunity for growth.  God never gives us more than we can handle.  Trust that He knows what He is doing.

Can You See Me Now?

On the way to the grocery store the other day I pulled in to the parking lot just ahead of a black luxury sedan driven by a large, middle aged man with dark hair.  I had seen him once before in our quiet neighborhood; when he commented on my driving technique by using an Italian hand gesture foretelling my impending death.  Quite frankly, he terrified me.

Pulling over to the curb so he could pass, I watched as he turned into a space, cut short, and hit a new family-style van, crunching the rear quarter panel.  He straightened out, pulled through, and parked one row in front of the van.  I eased down the aisle, parked one row behind the van, and crouched behind my steering wheel, waiting to see what he would do next.

He exited his sedan wearing a dark overcoat, $600 shoes, and a tailored suit.  As he walked around the front of his car, he glanced at his fender, and continued towards the store.

What!  He was supposed to carefully examine the other vehicle.  He was supposed to write a little note and stick it under the windshield wiper, claiming responsibility and giving his personal and insurance information.  He was supposed to, well… care.

I went to Catholic school, and let me tell you those nuns taught us to follow the rules and always tell the truth.  So my first reaction was horror.  Did he not realize the eternal consequences to his soul?  Even worse, did he just not care?

 My second reaction was outrage.  Who did he think he was, after all?  What right did he have to just waltz away from his responsibility and leave someone else holding the bag?  Finally, I got around to indignity and self-righteousness.  Why, I would never do something like that!  And then practicality hit, and I sucked in my breath sharply as the truth hit me full strength.  Because what if I did something wrong and someone saw me?  They could turn me in, or gossip about me, and everyone in the world would know!  

But here’s the thing.  Someone did see. Someone always sees.  Our All-Knowing and All-Loving God.  Who is, by the way, much more humbling than some brutish Mafioso.  And I’m willing to bet He has a much better sense of humor about a botched left turn.

So what about you?  How do you decide what to do in questionable situations?   Do you do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do?  Or do you do it because you are afraid you will get caught?

I Have to See a Man about a Flute

I went to an interesting yard sale recently.  There were lots of Native American items that I found fascinating.  Although the teepee in the front yard might have been a give-away, it took me a few minutes to realize that the homeowner himself was Native American . 

Fortunately, my mother taught us not to stare, so I was able to carry on a reasonably dignified conversation without (I hope) looking like a kid at a cowboy and Indian movie.  Besides, he wasn’t wearing a feathered headdress or anything beaded. 

So, we talked a bit about the items he was selling, then he picked up a hand carved wooden flute and began to play.  Let me tell you, I nearly swooned.  

As his fingers moved easily over the 6 holes down the front of the instrument, I could almost hear the winds of time whispering through the canyons where his ancestors once lived.  I could imagine hundreds of years of gatherings at campfires; and sense the sorrows and pain of a people completely in touch with the earth. 

The notes of longing and hope and sorrow coming from that 18” piece of hollow pine swept me away to a place where the wind blew freely and the people understood its whims.   No instruction books or sheet music, just the wistful tones of an ancient instrument in the hands of someone who understood and delighted in its primitive design.

And best of all, it was for sale.

For a mere $20 (cash only) I could be in tune with the universe and feel the sands of time between my own toes.

I completely forgot about the snowshoes and sage awaiting my purchase.  All I wanted was the music, the magic of the flute.  How hard could it be to make those lovely, poignant tones?  All I had to do, he assured me, was keep the fourth hole covered with one finger while my other seven fingers alternated on the remaining openings.   

Done deal.

I couldn’t wait to get home, to find a quiet little spot away from the noise and commotion of my bustling household.  I couldn’t wait to create my own lovely, wistful tones.

Carefully, I positioned my fingers as I had been shown; and, putting the flute to my lips (while trying not to think about the germ colonies hosted there and refusing to let myself to be sidetracked by a Google search of “how to sanitize a wooden Native American flute).

I gave a tentative puff.  

Hmmm.  Perhaps a longer, gentler puff?  A shorter burst of puff?  A prolonged, even puff?

I removed the flute from my face and studied it intently.  Yes, I’m certain it was the same instrument.  Perhaps another try with a different finger configuration?

OK, show of hands, here.  How many of you have ever heard a cat fight?  Because you’ll be the ones who understand what my attempts as a Native American flutist sounded like.

How could it be?  It looked so simple.  I had the instrument, why couldn’t I make the music?

Sadly, I realized that it’s not the instrument; it’s the instrumentalist.  And perhaps  hundreds of hours of practice, but seriously…could practice make THAT much difference? 

Here’s the thing.  A simple piece of pine, in the hands of the master, can be the source of such beauty it brings a tear to the eye.  In the hands of an unpracticed flunky, it will still bring tears; but of a different nature.

Which made me think that I am a lot like that hollow piece of wood.  When I accept the touch of God, I can do wonderful and amazing things.  Without His touch, I am nothing but an empty tube full of holes.  

I put my silly instrument away.  I think I need to go find that guy and negotiate some flute lessons.

My Mother's Ears

I got my mom’s ears, and my dad’s nose.  Truth be told, I’d rather it were reversed.  But I got my Grandma’s ankles, which pleases me to no end.  And I got my Great Aunt Emma’s hair, which I believe is punishment for all the giggles that, as children, my brother and I shared over her little pink head, dusted with pure white, downy-fine hair.

We can choose a lot of things, but we can’t choose our gene pool.  All of us are recipients of unique traits handed down to us through generations; and that conglomeration of characteristics is what makes us unique individuals.

But we are so much more than the sum total of our eye color, our hairline, and the size of our feet.  We are who we are because of every decision we have ever made, every person we have ever loved, every painful event we have ever suffered through.  And who we are is constantly changing and evolving.

So here’s the thing.  You can't change your bone structure, but you can always change your mind. 

Every day we make hundreds of decisions; some seemingly insignificant, some we recognize as life changing.  You can change who you are beginning with your very next decision.

Is there something about you that you would like to change? 

Linking up with:

Does God Show through you?

Showing Through
A little girl on the way home from church turned to her mother and said, "Mommy, the preacher's sermon this morning confused me"

The mother said, "Oh my, why is that?"

The girl replied, "Well, he said that God is bigger than we are. Is that true?"

"Yes, that's true." the mother replied.

"He also said that God lives within us. Is that true, too?"

Again the mother replied "Yes."

"Well," said the girl."If God is bigger than us and he lives in us, wouldn't he show through?"

I like that little girl's way of putting it. If God lives in us, then there's no way of keeping him from "showing through". That's the essence of Christian living - living in such a way that people around us will see God in our lives.

~author unknown

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your father in heaven." (Matthew 5:16)