He had come down to live with me. And was hanging in my closet. On a hanger.
I don’t know exactly why, but my guess is I was hoarding him there to add to my collection of special occasion outfits.
He was there, but out of the way. Not an active relationship, but still there just in case. Kinda like a fur coat works for Texans, you don’t really need it but on the rare occasion you do, its great to have. I didn’t want to wear Jesus everyday, but on the rare occasions I desperately needed him, He came in clutch.
Seems to track.
In my dream, someone kept coming to get him and He would sadly nod, and start walking away with them.
Then I would yell after Him, “Wait! You can’t leave, you said you were always going to be with me!”
Jesus would put his head down, drop his shoulders and walk back to hang himself back up on a coat hanger in my closet. His face was sorrowful, his movements heavyhearted, and even though He wanted to spend his days walking alongside me, He knew I didn’t have the same desire. So He willingly stayed where I left him, collecting dust in my closet.
This happened several times.
Until I realized how wasted He was there and gently told him He could go.
I told him He had done his job. He had loved me well and taught me unconditional love.
I let Him go. I’ll never forget the mournful look in his eyes. His heart was broken for me, but He did as I ask.
I let Jesus go.
Rather than take Him out of the closet to clothe myself in Him every day. To be clothed in His strength, grace, dignity, and faith. For Jesus to live alongside me and not tucked away in a closet.
Why have I forgotten how amazing it feels to live life with coordinating footsteps?
I want to take Jesus out of storage, blow the dust bunnies off, and steam the coat hanger wrinkles out of his shoulders. Not just for His upcoming birthday celebration, but for always.
I hope the closet will remain a visual for me. I hope to look up to the place Jesus was hanging, take Him down, put Him on like the finest garment I own, place my hand in His and tackle every day together.
A personal intention this year was to spend more quality time with Life-giving friends. In the ongoing To-Do List, Number #8 was “Make a list of Life-giving friends” because I am efficient if nothing. It remains written as a reminder to notice the life-givers and to be one.
A favorite bible story of mine is of a few friends who carried their sick friend to Jesus in hopes of healing him. When they couldn’t get to Him due to the crowd, they climbed on up, cut a hole in the roof and lowered their paralytic friend to Jesus.
Can you even imagine what that scene looked like?
Bob – “The crowd is too thick boys, there is no way we are gonna get Sick ol’ Sam to Jesus.”
Larry – “Think guys, think!”
Merle – “Hmmm, think we could climb up on the roof?”
Mike – “And then what Merle? Stomp our feet? Climb down the chimney?”
Sick ol’ Sam – “Never mind guys, it just looks hopeless.”
But it wasn’t. These friends were cut from the find-a-way-or-make-a-way cloth. They made an opening in the roof and lowered their friend down. Because of their faith, the sick one was healed. There aren’t enough thank you notes printed for Sick ol’ Sam to write his gratitudes on.
Those precious life-giving friends. Those that will bring you to Jesus and lower you right into His lap, tucking you into His loving arms. A favorite visual prayer of mine is to do just that with those I’m specifically praying for – swaddling them into healing arms, snug as a bug in a rug.
Back to the friends on the hot tin (straw?) roof…
Can you imagine how much restraint it would take to be that close to greatness and not want a little healing yourself? “Mr. Alpha and Omega, would you mind looking at this irksome rash really quick?” I mean, look how fast Jesus healed Sam, surely He could simply wink and heal this tiny, itchy issue.
Years ago we went to Lake Tahoe for the Celebrity Golf Tournament. It is such a fun trip – mountains, a gorgeous lake, amazing weather, golf, and celebrities everywhere playing golf for charity. Jason Witten, my favorite Dallas Cowboy, was playing in the tournament and I was a tiny bit determined (obsessed) to get a photo with the big guy. I carried his jersey around in my purse just in case he had time for an autograph as well. Let me pause for a second and say, I am not the girl who embarrasses herself and others by asking for photos or an autograph. If I see a famous person, I get awkward and usually ignore them. I like my celebrities at a distance.
The week was ending, and I had yet to corner my boy Witten for a photo. Our group got photos with every other celebrity but alas, Jason was elusive. We followed his team on his last few holes and positioned ourselves to intercept him on the way to the clubhouse for a photo request. My partner at the time had the camera and a plan. He was going to stop Witten and ask if he would take a photo with me, my job was to be ready to step in and smile.
As Witten and his entourage approached us, my heart started skipping beats, my palms were tingling, and my face was on fire. I flipped my hair to lay just right, my lipgloss was poppin’…I was ready. As Jason ducked under the rope, my partner said, “Jason, could I get a photo with you?”, and then they both turned to smile at me to take the photo.
Of them.
I had to reach for the camera that was in his hand to snap the photo. I then watched, speechless, as my favorite Tight End walked away. And there you go folks, the real reason my first marriage ended in divorce.
It seems hard to control oneself that close to greatness.
There I was, waiting for my photo, and someone else got it. Had we been on a roof, I might have pushed him off of it rather than lowering him down.
Thankfully for the paralytic man, his friends stayed the course. They remained selfless for their friend’s healing, even that close to the most Divine and Holy being they had ever encountered.
I’m not comparing Jason Witten to Jesus. But if that’s how you read it, you might also suffer from Smitten by Witten syndrome. Jesus can heal that too.
Until then, let’s be life givers. Let’s breathe love and light into our people. May we be in each other’s corner, standing guard over our people through all their things….sadness, loss, pain, sickness, exhaustion, and life. Let’s carry each other to peace and healing.
*Mark 2:3-5
**Please let it be noted, while I am still working on forgiving my ex-husband for this unspeakable betrayal, we have remained friends and co-parent well.
I’ve recently learned a secret. Perhaps the last on earth to know.
Adult children still require parenting.
On one hand, I’m really thrilled about this, as I’m not ready to be done.
On the other, I think it’s rude and a bit overwhelming.
In case your angels are still little, and you are thinking I’m horrible for having another hand of feelings other than joy, allow me to wearily continue.
Parenting adults sometimes looks like this –
Riding in the passenger seat, traveling at the speed of light. Which turns out to be exactly 96 mph on the highway. Glancing over to notice your precious Man-baby is driving with his knees and looking at his phone anchored on the dashboard. Instead of reaching for the ol’ faithful mom-gasp, you dig deeper for a calm voice and with white knuckles say, “Babe, you can drive 96 mph, and you can watch America’s Next Top Model. But, you may not do both at the same time.”
Luckily, the end result is them rolling their eyes, pulling over and giving you reign of the wheel. Because isn’t that what we are most comfortable with?
On the other hand…Parenting adults sometimes looks like a glimpse of pure sunshine.
Recently we met a large group of folks out for dinner. We happened to have all children in town for the evening and told them to stop by and join us. It was a casual dinner at a fun restaurant, where everyone can go order their own food at their own pace. We were settled in for the long haul, relaxing and visiting with friends as the boys joined us one by one. As they each came in our boys took their hats off, shook hands with the adults, made eye contact, smiled, and appropriate small talk. Angels sang as their parents inwardly rejoiced, for on this night, all boys remembered the manners taught to them.
As the evening went on, I kept overhearing a guy at the next table quoting scripture to his friend. A lot of it. His quoting voice was a little sharp and hard. He kept looking over at one of my handsome sons who has his own beautiful, unique style. This night’s attire could be categorized as “Homeless Chic” – an oversized t-shirt that could fit all the neighborhood children, shorts, layers of earrings and necklaces, complete with a bandana tied around his head as if he were about to head to an audition of the next Karate Kid remake.
I ignored the mans stares, figuring he was also a fan of Mr. Miyagi. I mean, who isn’t?
Another one of our boys came in, kindly saying hello to everyone before sitting down to eat. This darling of ours is a huge Man-child. He is 6’3” and works out like a beast. He also eats like one, reminding me often that I “don’t have to be hungry to eat” and other crazy things kids say these days.
The man at the next table ramped up the scripture quoting as he continued to stare at our family. This time I figured he was simply intrigued by the beautiful sleeves of tattoos down Man-Child’s huge arms, each one telling their own story. Stories that belong to the sweet soul those muscles carry around.
We ignored that man all night. His judgment, his self righteous bible quoting, the anger and irritation that radiated off of him, and the dirty looks he returned my smiles with. We focused on the friends who found the treasures these boys hold.
When we left, I couldn’t quit replaying the night in my head. Then I got mad.
Really mad.
And then I got sad.
Really, really sad.
I think the man believed he was doing right for the Kingdom. I believe he was quoting scripture as he understands it. I believe he was sticking close to his beliefs and faith, holding on to them with a clenched fist. Gripping his beliefs so tight that Jesus slipped right out of his fingers, as there was zero evidence that comes from a relationship with our Gentle Savor.. None of the softness that comes from knowing Him. No acceptance or love.
Jesus was present though. He was shining through all the decorations on our grown children. Their kindness. Their gentleness. Their willingness to drive in town, on their own gas, to eat with the parentals. Their obedience and manners. Their love. Their acceptance of themselves and everyone else at the table, old or not.
If Jesus had come in to eat and drink wine on tap, I can’t help but think he would have chosen to sit at the boys table.
To answer the question that covered every bracelet and bookmark from the 90’s – #WWJD?
#HWLF
He would love first. He always does.
What if that is all we had to do? Love, above all things.
It would definitely free up more of our time to parent.
Apparently that job never ends.
*There is an adult pictured above that I do not parent. He has two parents that have raised him, Chad helped for a few years and I am simply an extra that gets to enjoy him. I am the mom in this house though, therefore sometimes he gets grouped in with the others.
Wide open spaces are balm to the unrested soul and a brain that doesn’t take a breather.
Last week I put my social secretary on probation, because she stinks. She is a people lover who wants to do all the things. She overcommits me, leaves zero breathing room between appointments, and runs an exhausting schedule that makes one want to fake their own death. Her only saving grace is she has learned some fires aren’t ours, therefore don’t need our irons in them. She just needs to learn to say a gentle “no thank you” more often.
Also, she is me.
You too?
A while ago I heard an analogy that I wish I remembered well. The gist of it is this…
Imagine all the magnets you have on your refrigerator, each representing an area of your specific life. Family, Friends, Career, Spiritual Life, Health, Exercise, Recreation, Hobbies, Causes you support, Relaxing, Emotional growth, etc. Add what you need to make it tailored to you.
Once you have all your magnets, move them all to the side of the fridge. Only 6 magnets can fit on the front of the appliance. Choose your Top 6 to reflect what you can focus on in this current season of life.
While you love all the magnets, you can only focus on the six on the front of your refrigerator. You are welcome to switch them out at any seasonal change, but only six can be front and center. Those are your current mainstays.
What if we committed to be kinder to ourselves, to honor the season of life we are currently walking through? A gentle no is so much kinder than a stressed yes.
God speaks to me strongest through his creation. I love nature – rocks, animals, trees, water, crystals, grass…all the simple beauty. Chances are, when you see me, I have some form of nature in my pocket reminding me to stay grounded. A rock, a feather from a bird, a seed from a plant…they bring me peace. We can all get a little too full of hot, stagnant air from time to time. We allow monkeys that are not from our own circus to jump on our back. We worry, and then we worry. When that doesn’t work, we worry some more.
Nature is a way of remembering what is mine and what is important. Staying grounded is vital for my own spiritual health.
There is often a mantra being repeated in my head, “What’s mine is mine. What’s yours is yours.”
Keep your crap over there Karen.
Nature reminds us to be steady. Nature is audacious in its perseverance. In its bounce back ability.
This is definitely a time to focus on staying grounded, as nothing is solid. We are in a time where everything in our country and counties are changing by the hour. No rhyme or reason or warning. Just when we think we have a plan, the rug is once again pulled out from underneath our feet. It’s like trying to stand up on a lily pad. Everything is contradicting. We are left grasping on to the yin and the yang.
Nothing is certain or permanent.
Everyone’s pain is relevant. Everyone’s confusion is relevant. Grace is required and appreciated.
We need to get good at loving. We need to get resilient at surviving heartbreak, accepting what we can and can’t control. There is a peace and freedom in letting go of our plan and picture of what we envisioned 2020 would look like and savoring the joy that we can find in the wake of it.
The funny thing is, we’ve never had full control, in any year. Life can knock us down at any point, and just when we get our footing again, it’ll knock you from the other side. We know this, as we’ve all been knocked on our own behinds. Perhaps that’s why there is extra cushion there. Clever God, that guy thought of everything. I’m positive that’s why my backside has grown as I’ve aged, continued training for bounce back ability.
The one certain that hasn’t changed is the love and nature of God.
We can stay grounded in that. And on the hard days that knock us on our padded bottoms, get outside. Walk barefoot in the grass. Sit by some water and listen to it. Find a tree and lean against it in the shade. There is a reason tree huggers are happy. Find a pretty rock and hold it in your pocket. If you don’t have a pocket, put it in your bra. (Pro tip – take it out before going through airport security.) Lift your face up to feel the sunshine. Watch the moon glowing on our sweet world. Let the outdoors slow you down. Take a lesson from God’s nature and become a Champ at loving.
I’ll leave you with the weekly words from our boys Lorena Athletic Director and beloved Coach Ray Biles,
“Don’t worry about the things you cannot control, focus on the things you can control. It may change tomorrow. It may change the day after that, but you know the good Lord is in control and we’ll all be okay.”
