when it's time to give up your dreams

                           I think I may be ready to give up on a dream.  This is a dream that I have intensely wanted for a long time. I have worked very hard to achieve it and have nearly exhausted all of my “next steps.”  So in an effort to reckon with reality, I’m giving up.  I think it may be time.

                When I told my husband this the other day, he said, “No – don’t give up!  We’ll pray about it!” (Because sometimes when you want something long enough, you stop really praying about it when you stop believing it’s going to happen.)  I understand why he responded the way he did.  He knows how much I want this.  He knows how hard I’ve worked.  And he probably has an idea of what comes next.  When you give up on a dream you enter into a process of loss.

 

                About a year ago one of the women in our community group from church (we call ourselves “The Tribe”) announced that she was giving up on her dream of becoming a school administrator.  After working as an interim assistant principal and loving it, Laurie had worked very hard to get into a district program to become an administrator.  She had even gone back to school and earned a doctorate degree in educational leadership.  She did everything she could to prepare herself for what she felt passionately about doing, and she felt confident about her qualifications.

                She didn’t make it into the program.  When she told us she was giving up on her dream, several of us protested, “No!  You’ve worked too hard on this!”  But she had already begun the unavoidable grieving process involved in the death of a dream.  She talked to us that night about surrendering and finding peace.

               We are supposed to tell our 

children to never give up on their dreams and that they can accomplish anything they set their minds to.  And yet I’m wondering if that will set them up well for real life?  My child may want to be a contestant on The Voice, but it may not happen.  My daughter may have her heart set on a particular college, but it may not pan out.  I have friends who have had to give up careers because of illness and homes because of financial hardship.  Maybe the more important thing we need to teach our children (and learn for ourselves) is how to hold up our dreams with open hands and live in a posture of surrender.  This dream of mine may be something I’ve wanted more than anything I’ve ever wanted, but if I am truly surrendering it to God, there is a flexibility instead of a rigidity.  There is an attitude, from the very beginning, that says, “I know what I want.  But more than that, I trust that God knows what is best for me, and that may look slightly or vastly different than my dream.”

                Our family enjoys watching American Ninja Warrior, and I love hearing the athletes’ stories just as much as I love watching them navigate the incredibly challenging obstacle courses.  Some of these competitors have given up jobs to pursue their dream of becoming the next American Ninja Warrior.  Some of them admit that they are so desperate to win, they don’t know what they’ll do if they don’t make it.  It’s painful to see these competitors fall off the salmon ladder or lose their grip off of the swinging spikes, because you get a sense of just how devastated they feel when they hit the water below.  And often they are asked the same questions afterward.  “Will you be back?  Will we see you here next year?”  In other words, are you ready to give up on your dream?

                I think the truly victorious ones are those who, in the face of dashed dreams, find a way to live out their passion doing what is possible and within reach in the here and now.  In their reckoning with reality, they find the courage to let go of a specific dream while holding on to a bigger vision.

 

                The producer of American Ninja Warrior calls Brent Steffensen and Kacy Catanzaro “the royal couple of ‘Ninja Warrior’”.  They both have broken records on the show and their mutual passion for ANW led them into a dating relationship.  Along with competing several times on ANW, they are currently working to open a training facility in San Antonio, TX.  As Kacy stated, “As long as “American Ninja Warrior” is not holding us back from other things we want to accomplish, we want to keep doing it.”  And despite this season’s disappointment (of not making it through the ANW course), Steffensen said he has his dream job.  He may come back and compete again, and if he does he will either fail again or break a record, but either way he is living a bigger dream.  He’s living a dream that taps into the core of who he is.

 

                Back to my friend Laurie.  She is as passionate as ever about teaching and educating children, and about leading other educators.  And she says this past year has been surprisingly peace-filled.  “I’ve learned a lot about myself, how much I was striving to make things happen, and how I pressured myself to make my dream come true.  I was carrying my dream like the way you carry a grudge.  It became heavy and I just kept lugging it around with me.  When your dream becomes a burden, it’s time to lay it down.”

                Laurie teaches fifth grade.  She is a department head and has exceptional leadership skills.  She chose not to reapply for the district program, and she has taught me a lot about what it looks like to surrender a dream that has become a burden.

                My dream is to publish a book.  Not just a book, but a specific story.  I have a polished proposal that I’ve spent hours writing and revising.  I have attended writers’ conferences and have had my work professionally critiqued.  I have followed up on nearly every lead, and the feedback has been consistent.  “Your writing is good.  You tell your story in a compelling way.  Your platform is not big enough.  We wish you great success and hope you find a home for your manuscript.”

                We hope you find a home for your manuscript.  My manuscript is homeless.  But I am not hopeless.  I may decide it’s time to let this dream go.  I may try a little bit longer.  I may decide to take a different route to get my book published.  But either way, I am living a bigger dream.  Either way, I can still tell my story.  Along with writing, I speak regularly at local women’s groups on topics I am passionate about, and I love it.  I am a communicator, and I am living a life consistent with who I am – with who God made me to be.

 

                As a parent, I will always be my kids’ biggest cheerleader, and I will encourage them to go boldly in the direction of their dreams.  But I also want to teach them – and model for them – how to hold their dreams loosely, with open hands and a surrendered heart.  I want to teach them how to know when it’s time to give up on a dream that has become a burden, and how to figure out what is underneath that dream that taps into the core of who they are. 

      

                From the very beginning of our journey, we can entrust our greatest dreams to the God who knows what is best – to the God who knows us best.   

Stubborn for God

            I love Little House on the Prairie.  Always have, always will. (I tried really hard to get my 9-year-old daughter to dress up like Laura for Halloween this year, but she refused.)   I remember the location in my elementary school library where the Little House books were lined up in a beautiful, long row.  Little House in the Big Woods, On the Banks of Plum Creek, The Long Winter…week after week I happily followed the same routine: I would return one Laura Ingalls Wilder masterpiece and check out another. I loved the adventure, the hardships, the love and the simplicity of prairie life.

 

            When I got a little older, I regularly watched the television series after school.  The show, I thought, was even better than the books.  The characters were perfectly depicted by the actors, so much so that I didn't even think about them being actors at all.  They just seemed like the real people -- Pa, Ma, Laura, Mary, Carrie, and Grace -- living out their adventures right before my eyes.  Pa was so strong and loving.  Ma was so gentle and kind.  And the girls were so innocent and relatable.  The show tugged on all my heartstrings, and I learned good values about family and faith.  There were always obstacles to overcome, like a drought destroying the year’s crops, or Pa struggling to find work.  There were wagon accidents and barn fires, and if you saw the episode where Mary goes blind, you will never, ever forget it.  The biggest hardship of all, it seemed, was dealing with the Olesons.  Nels Oleson was a good man, but his wife, Harriet, was dreadful. Nellie was a thorn in Laura’s side, and Willie was always causing trouble (although I thought he was cute.)  No matter how hard things got, the Ingalls family pulled through.  I loved when Pa and Ma would eat fire-popped corn in bed, Mary and Laura would conspire with one another when they should have been going to sleep, and sometimes after dinner, Pa would play his fiddle while the girls clapped and danced around.

            My third daughter was born in early August, and that summer during the last couple months of my pregnancy there were two things I consistently craved: Dairy Queen and Little House on the Prairie.  We borrowed the DVDs from the library, binge-watching most of the nine seasons.  We had to skip several episodes because some of the story lines were traumatic and scary.  We got to where we could tell during the first few seconds of the show, because of the music they would play, if it was going to be happy, sad, or scary.

            In one episode Pa was away, working for the railroad, and Ma was overwhelmed with taking care of everything at home.  One night, after it had grown dark, she heard the animals riled up outside, and when she went out to check to make sure everything was OK, Laura and Mary followed her.  They were by the fence when Ma told the girls in a hushed, urgent tone to go inside.  They looked startled, but they immediately obeyed, quietly making their way back to the house, and it was a good thing they did, because there was a black bear in their front yard!  

            I realized with stunning clarity that night as I cuddled on the couch with my two daughters, that if that had happened in our yard to our family, the story would have ended differently.  See, if I would have told my strong-willed daughters, who were 6 and 4 at the time, to quietly go inside, they would have questioned me, and argued with me, and said, “No, I want to stay here with you.” And, “Why do we have to go inside??”  And little did I know that the baby in my enormous belly would have the strongest will of all of my daughters.  That bear would have eaten us for dinner!

            Everyone in our family is strong-willed in varying degrees.  I remember telling my Mom about how stubborn my daughters were, and she graciously reminded me that I was also strong-willed – in fact, the strongest-willed of her five children– and that she didn't view it as a bad thing.  It may have been challenging when I was little, but the upside was that as I got older, I was not easily swayed.  Sometimes that meant I stubbornly resisted new ideas and wasn't open to new things, like when the girls’ basketball coach tried to get me to play basketball in 7^th and 8^th grade (I was 5’8”), but I knew that I didn't want to do it.  I never even entertained the idea.  And sometimes it protected me from making bad choices, like in high school when someone close to me tried repeatedly to get me to smoke cigarettes - I had decided I wasn't going to ever try it and I stubbornly persisted in my refusal.

            For several years when my children were younger, I met once a week with a friend to pray for our kids.  One week, my friend prayed an unusual prayer - one that I had never heard before.  She prayed that her kids would be stubborn for God, and that they would follow after Him in a determined, persistent way.

            I've been thinking about what it means to be stubborn for God. There are plenty of  times that I am stubborn for myself, because I want my way, I want my point of view to be understood, and I want to be right.   To be stubborn for God would mean laying down my own agenda, my own desires, and being determined to do what He wants in any situation.  

           Jesus was stubborn for His Father in the way He lived, 

the way He loved others, the way He forgave, 
and the way He chose to do His Father’s will.  

He spoke out against injustice and meaningless religiosity. 
He loved the unlovable. 

He was determined to persistently go after those who were lost and hurting.  

He was stubborn all the way to the Cross, not stubborn for his human desires, 
but stubborn for God and His plan.  He was stubborn for us.  
And death could not overcome Him.  

The grave could not hold Him.  
Jesus Christ - stubborn to save, stubborn to love and forgive, 

stubborn to live again and give us life eternal.              

book reports, teen drivers, and ISIS

         Recently my nine-year-old daughter was working on her book report assignment while I was watching T.V.  She had to fill in a chart explaining different components of the story and her thoughts about it: main character, setting, plot, etc…  She ran up from the basement with her paper and pencil and whispered in my ear, “Mom, what does the “plot” mean?  I told her it’s like when we play Balderdash and you have to write down a summary of a movie title, telling the gist of the story in just a few sentences.  She runs back down to the basement, and then a few minutes later she’s running back up the stairs.  She whispers again in my ear, “Mom, what is my opinion of the book?”

        I laughed and told her that I couldn't tell her that – she needed to write down what SHE thought of the book!  Later, I thought about how when our kids are little, we do pretty much tell them what to think about things.  Sure, they have their own will (some stronger than others!), but they mimic our opinions on all sorts of matters such as what we think about certain people, personal styles and tastes in food and clothing, and political and spiritual viewpoints. I always got a kick out of the comments my kids would make about their “mock elections” at school during presidential election years.  It was obvious that many kids were “parroting” what they had heard their parents say about the candidates and issues.

        Contrast that with the teen years which are largely about our children branching out and separating from us.  They sometimes take on different viewpoints, shaped by their experiences with friends, in school, and in our culture.  Our oldest daughter just got her driver’s license, and our middle daughter is fourteen. We have had animated - even heated - conversations over social issues and current events, and I am seeing first hand that they are in a different level of discovery mode from when they were little. And they are not at all asking me to tell them what they think about things. 

       As a parent, this can be scary, but I am learning that this breaking away is not only OK, it is necessary.  Because we can only hold onto other people’s values, beliefs and viewpoints for so long before we must decide these things for ourselves.

 

       And at a certain point, our faith must become our own.  Many people identify themselves as a certain religion or denomination because that is what their family is, and that is how they were raised.  Religious tradition can define us like an ethnicity defines us. We’re Italian, we’re Greek. We’re Catholic, we’re Methodist. But authentic faith involves a choice - a personal relationship with God.  All of my daughters have questioned elements of our faith at times, and my prayer continues to be that their questions and doubts will cause their hearts to seek truth, and that their seeking hearts will find answers that lead each of them into a deeper, more authentic faith and relationship with God.

       I recently heard an interview with Kayla Mueller’s family, and while her story is heart-wrenching, it shines hope like a bright star in the darkest, blackest night.

       Kayla was an aid worker, and 25 years old when she was kidnapped by ISIS. She spent eighteen months in captivity until her family confirmed her death earlier this month.

       Kayla’s parents are Christians, and in an interview on the Today show they shared their story: they remembered their caring, compassionate daughter who always wanted to help others, they spoke about their faith in God, and how He has given them strength throughout this horrible ordeal.  Then they read a letter from Kayla, written during her captivity – they received it from fellow prisoners who had been released.  Here is an excerpt from www.today.com:

          “All that I have said in the previous letter stays true. Give your suffering to the      Lord, let our creator support you. Continue to pray, by God I feel your love and  your prayers.

          My heart longs to be with you all as... I have never felt before, but praise be to God you are in my dreams almost every evening and for just those brief moments in my sleeping conscious that we are together I am given a warmth. It's warmth enough for me to wake with a smile. Warmth enough to keep me company through the days, and warmth enough to keep my heart near to home and therefore to God, Mark 12:28-30. "The first of all the commandments is hear O' Israel, the Lord thy God is one Lord. And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy souls and with all thy mind and with all thy strength. This is the first commandment.

          All my everything,

         Kayla

        This is not just her parent’s faith – it is her own.  She writes about God’s comfort and strength, about God in her waking, God in her sleeping.  She writes scriptures the best she can remember them – God’s word stored in her heart.  She encourages her parents to give their suffering to God.  This is a faith that sustains, and it is a faith that one owns. 

        In my suburban world, I am occupied with book reports, work, play practices, and a new driver in the house.  And more than once I've woken in the middle of the night afraid, thinking about ISIS and what is happening in our world.  It’s hard to really know the extent of the evil that is taking place and I worry how fast and far it will reach.  I worry about our safety, my daughters’ safety and their children’s safety, and I hope.  I hope that God will stop the evil, and I hope and pray that whatever comes, my faith will be strong and I will be found faithful.

       And I hope and pray for my daughters - that their faith will grow strong and become their own.  That God’s Word, planted in their hearts from the time they were little, will grow deep roots, will guide them, protect them, keep them on course, and give them strength throughout their lives. These three remain, and no one can take them away: Faith, Hope, and Love.  And the greatest of these is Love.                      

Why do you do the things you do, and who do you do them for?

            When I was living in Austin, I went to a women’s bible study, and the teacher asked us this question every week.  It stuck.  Almost 20 years later, I am still asking myself these two questions.  Because if I don’t consider why I do what I do, and who I’m doing it all for, my life can easily become all about doing things to make myself look better to others and to feel better about myself.

            Lately it seems that other people are asking me these same questions, especially in regards to my spiritual practices.  Oh, they may be using different words, but they are the same questions.  Why do you go to church?  Why do you believe the way you do?  Why do you read the bible?  Why do you speak to groups of young moms?  Why are you in a small group?

            When I think about the things I do, the things I commit myself to, the groups I am a part of, and the work I strive to excel at, I have to ask myself why?  In all of my daily living, who am I living for?

            1 Peter 3:15 says, “But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord.  Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.  But do this with gentleness and respect.”  So, here goes…

           

            Why do I go to church?  Because it centers me and keeps me on track.

            Throughout my week, as I am navigating this journey called life, I can’t control all the twists and turns, ups and downs, treacherous weather, pot holes and cracks in the road.  And this vehicle I’m driving?  Well, it’s not straight from the factory with all the bells and whistles.  It’s been in a few accidents, and it’s in some ways broken – everything doesn’t work exactly as it should.  The alignment is a little off, and I find it consistently hard to not veer off course. 

O to grace how great a debtor

Daily I’m constrained to be!

Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,

Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it

Prone to leave the God I love;

Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

Seal it for thy courts above.

~Robert Robinson

            Going to church each Sunday centers me and keeps me on course.  Worshiping God with other believers reminds me how great God is and how much I need Him.  Hearing truths from the bible, even if they are basic and I've heard them a dozen times before, helps me live my life to honor Christ.

            Why do I believe the way I do?  Because I believe that Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter are more than just holidays.  The historical events we celebrate and remember on these days impact my life every day of the year.  I believe that God came as a baby named Jesus into our world, that He gave His life so I could be forgiven, and He rose from the dead so I can live eternally, even after this life is over.  God’s amazing love and grace deserve my whole-hearted devotion.

           

            Why am I in groups?  Because I grow in groups, both in my relationships with others and in my relationship with God.  Whether it’s a small group, a bible study, a marriage workshop, or a grief support group, I have found that the right kinds of groups with the right kind of people shape me, support me, bring healing, and help me grow.   

           

            Why do I read the Bible?  It teaches me who God is and how I should live. 

            I opened Ephesians the other day and started reading chapter 4, and I didn’t make it past verse 2.  Always be humble and gentle.  Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love.

            I stopped right there and read it again, then again.  Like a light, illuminating my path, I became aware that in my home, in the relationships that matter most to me, I was not being humble and gentle, making allowance for other’s faults because of my love.  I've heard these words before, but I needed to be reminded.  I needed to recalibrate.

            Psalm 119:105 - Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

            Why do I write and speak to groups of women?  I love to encourage other women in their faith, friendships, marriage and parenting.  And I love to do it through writing and speaking.  God has wired each of us with unique personalities, temperaments and gifts, and when we find the courage to cultivate them and use them to bless others and honor him, we find our “sweet spot” – a place where we feel alive and fulfilled.

            Galatians 6:4 - Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that.  Don’t be impressed with yourself.  Don’t compare yourself with others.  Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.  (Message)

            How about you? Why do you do the things you do, and who do you do them for?

           

            Two little questions worth answering.

            

Room to Grow

I may be an overprotective, overly-accommodating mother.

 

At times I have questioned if I am, and now that my oldest daughters have returned from a month long trip to Europe with their grandparents and their cousin, I’m pretty sure it’s true.

Claire, Kate, and cousin Francesca in Paris

Kate (15) has always been picky with her food, and I have always accommodated her.  We buy our milk from one store, because she says milk from other stores tastes weird.  She has basically taken the same lunch to school every day for over five years.  She doesn't like pizza.  She doesn't like the different foods on her plate to touch each other.  You get the picture…

So imagine my surprise and delight when I received multiple texts from her telling me that she ate veal and mashed potatoes, lobster and shrimp, stinky French cheese, kidneys and frog legs.  OK, the kidneys grossed me out, but I was amazed!

Claire (13) left as a pescatarian (a vegetarian that eats fish and seafood). I also accommodated her, often preparing a piece of fish alongside whatever meat we were having for dinner.  Well, she came back a carnivore!  On her first day in Europe, she decided not to be a vegetarian anymore. During her trip, she ate all kinds of meats, including the kidneys and frog legs.  And, she now drinks coffee - she likes it black.

 

I find myself asking them now, “Do you like such and such?”  Because I honestly don’t know.  They have changed.  Kate wants to start eating hard boiled eggs for breakfast.  Go figure.  

   

They rode a gondola in Venice and donkeys in Greece.  (Katelyn complained because her donkey was lazy.)  They visited Ephesus, Pompeii and Verona.  Katelyn texted me, asking, "Did you know that the book of  Ephesians was a letter Paul wrote to the Christians in Ephesus?"  I could hear her excitement in her text.

They spent time in Alsace, the place in France where my father-in-law grew up, and met their relatives. They saw the church where their grandparents were married almost 50 years ago. They toured the Sistine Chapel, and I got this text one day from Claire:

      We went to the Sistine Chapel today, we had to wear shawls.

      Funny story, the art in the chapel doesn't follow the dress code AT ALL

And Claire made this fantastic video in Rome:

https://vimeo.com/100273422

They learned to adapt and be flexible.  They washed their clothes in their bathroom sink.  They did some shopping and brought us back great souvenirs, staying within the budget we gave them.  And as I feared, they had a few bad brawls, but they figured it out.  Without me.

The thing is, my girls were ready for this.  I didn't know it and at times I worried that they weren't.  But they have come back changed, a little more grown up.  

For the first several years of their lives my husband and I told them stories about our childhoods, our travels and our experiences.  But it’s a wonderful thing when your children begin to have experiences without you. Now, I want to hear all about their adventures. I want to hear their stories, see their 1000+ photos.  I want to learn from them, because they have now lived, in some ways, more than me.  

They have seen places I may never see. Tasted foods I may never taste.  And in spite of being an overprotective mama, I feel truly happy. Happy that they got to see their grandmother laugh until she cried. Happy that they survived my father-in-law driving them across France. And happy that they have a dozen inside jokes I will never get.

shake and squeeze

This morning when my friend, Margie, asked me how I was on this Tuesday before Friday, when my two teenage daughters will get on a plane and fly to Mexico City to begin a month long trip with their grandparents, taking them to France, Italy, Greece, Turkey, back to France, then back to Mexico, before returning home in July, my answer was a word picture.

“I feel like an almost-empty bottle of shampoo that you turn upside down, 

shake violently, and then squeeze and shake, squeeze and shake, 

until every last drop spatters out.”

 

Getting the girls ready to travel AND helping them finish up their last couple weeks of school has been crazy, and has included trips to over a dozen stores, last minute searches for iPhone charger adapters and prepaid Visa cards that can be used outside the U.S.  (Where do they sell these???) It has involved lots of laundry, folding, packing, re-folding, and my dining room table has been taken over by bottles of sunscreen, toiletries and receipts.  My oldest is cramming for final exams and finishing last minute projects, like baking Irish Soda Bread for thirty people. We squeezed in a doctor’s visit and new prescriptions that caused allergic reactions and more trips to the pharmacy.  And because end-of-the-year friend stuff is HUGELY important to teens, we will be going to see the premiere of The Fault in our Stars on Thursday evening.

Shake and squeeze. 

Shake and squeeze. 

My mind and body are feeling the stretching, and my back is threatening to go out on me.  So today I am resting it and putting ice on it.  And as I slow the pace just a little I’m aware that something else is being stretched.  My heart is swelling with love for my daughters, with excitement over their adventure of a lifetime, but at times it’s also racing with the anxiety of letting them go, with the challenge to accept that they are growing up and, like thriving branches, they are growing out, away from the trunk. My heart is stretching as far as it can to trust.  To trust that God goes before them.  That He watches over their coming and going and is intimately in tune with their needs and longings.  That He is shaping all of us.

Even though it doesn’t make any sense and is a huge waste of time, my pattern for a long time has been to worry, pray, and then worry some more.  I find that praying relieves some of my anxiety, but then I usually go back to worrying because, well – I don’t know why.  Like I said, it doesn’t make sense.  What good does it do to trust God for 70 % and worry about the other 30%?  What would it be like to live a life of such surrender that 100% trust becomes a way of living?

I love the way The Message paraphrases the following passages:

Proverbs 3:5

The Message (MSG)

⁵ Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track.

and

Philippians 4:6

The Message (MSG)

^6-7 Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.

I’ve had it all wrong – those two little words are changing my life.  

Instead of worrying, pray. Not, in addition to, or along with.  

But rather, Instead of.

I am seeing my daughters blossom before my eyes.  I am seeing them overcome their own anxieties, and problem solve solutions.  I am watching their beautiful branches extend further than I thought they would.  I am hearing their honest prayers as they give thanks and ask God for His help and blessing on our summer.  But as is so often the case, as the parent, I may be the one that is growing up the most.

Stir

            I love to cook, and I especially enjoy cooking with my brick red, enamel-coated, cast-iron Dutch oven.  Several of my favorite recipes, like pot roast with porcini mushrooms and red wine, follow the same method:  first I brown the meat in a little oil and then remove it from the pan.  Next, I sauté onion or shallot, garlic, and veggies in a little more olive oil over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally. Sometimes I add a little flour if I am going to be making a sauce. 

            Right around the time that the pot starts to turn brown on the bottom, my husband (having smelled the aroma) usually walks in, looks in the pot, and says “Wow, that it is going to be really hard to clean.”  And then, like a magician, I make the brown bottom disappear.  I pour in a little liquid, either broth or wine, and using my wooden spoon, I scrape up the brown bits on the bottom.  This is my favorite part:  gently stirring up all that flavor.  I add a few spices - maybe some fresh herbs - and stir a little more.  With some recipes, I add a little butter at the very end, and stir, stir, stir.

 

            Have you ever considered how we get “stirred” up?   We have pet peeves.  Sometimes we say that someone is “pushing our buttons”, or we are aware that we are “getting triggered”.  Life events can also stir us up.  In my grief group, I was asked to choose a word from a “feelings” list that describes how I feel after losing my mother.  Among others, I chose “agitated”, thinking of my old washing machine with a center agitator.  The machine would aggressively rotate back and forth, tossing my clothes and splashing soap and water.  It seemed the perfect word to describe how I was feeling since my mom’s death had stirred up feelings of loss, sadness, anger, irritation, and even anxiety.

            And we are not the only ones getting stirred.  At times we are the ones that stir up, trigger and push other people’s buttons.  And unfortunately, this can be especially true of the people we are closest to and love the most, like our family members.

Here’s the scripture that stirred me up, in a good way:

And let us consider how we may stir up one another to love and good works.”   

Hebrews 10:24

            The cooking visual implies something else that is true:  the things getting stirred up are already there.  Desires, emotions, and memories.  Words and actions that brought joy or pain.  Stories I have believed that may or may not be true.  They are there, sometimes buried, and then powerful events like a death or a loss stir them up.  People stir them up by things they say or don’t say, things they do or don’t do.  Abrupt, back and forth movement that causes emotional sloshing and splashing.

A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart…

For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.  

Luke 6:45

            This idea that I am to “stir up” others in a positive way, toward love and good works, challenges me.  In my relationships, I have the opportunity to stir up good things that are already in my children’s hearts, my husband’s heart, my friends’ and family members’ hearts.  By asking questions, listening well, and affirming the positive qualities I see in my loved ones, I can stir them up to love and to good works.

            I overhear my husband handling a difficult phone call while working from home, and I affirm him for his polite, professional tone with a difficult client.  He takes my encouragement to heart and continues to patiently work with each client to find workable solutions.

            As a family we serve the under-resourced, and my youngest daughter gets “stirred up” to do some chores, earn some money, and give to the poor.

            I listen as my teenage daughter shares about a difficult situation at school, and instead of immediately telling her my opinion, which is my natural tendency, I ask a few questions, “drawing out” her thoughts.  I ask her how she sees things, how she thinks she should handle it.  In doing so, I stir up what is already in her heart.  There may still be a place for me to share my opinion, but I want to start with patient, gentle stirring.  

 The purposes of a person's heart are deep waters, 

but one who has insight draws them out.  

Proverbs 20:5  

            I am a wooden spoon, and in my relationships I want to stir gently, patiently, over low heat. I’m going for a simmer, not a rolling boil.  I am not using a pressure cooker, an electric mixer, or a blender.  I am not vigorously whisking; I am stirring.  I want to add understanding and encouragement. Gentleness.  Patience.  Taking the time to develop the flavors and cultivate tenderness. 

Let us consider how we might stir up the people God has placed in our lives

 to love and good deeds.  

Open-handed Living

                When we hear about celebrities and philanthropists donating large sums of money to various charities, it’s easy to think, “When I have more, I’ll be more generous.” But true generosity is not about giving large amounts of money or other resources; it’s about giving liberally from what we have.  

           

           2 Corinthians 9:6 says that the one who sows generously will reap generously.  A farmer needs to open his hand, letting go of what he has, to scatter his seed.  We, too, are called to hold loosely to what we possess, and to be willing to share (1 Timothy 6:18).

           Becoming a generous person begins with open-handed living, with an awareness that all we have comes from God, and a confidence that He will provide seed for the sower. We don’t become generous by occasional, random acts of kindness.  Generosity is a habit of the heart. 

What prevents us from living generously?  Fear of not having enough, our desire to hold on to what we have, and forgetting that everything we have comes from God can keep us from generous living.

                        

Abraham models generosity in Genesis 13. Because of their growing families, Abraham and his nephew, Lot, need to part company and each settle in his own land.  Although Abraham is the patriarch and it would have been customary and within his rights to choose first, he insists that Lot select his land first.  Abraham was confident that God would bless him wherever he was, and did not demand the best for himself.

Jesus tells a parable about a rich man that gives a large offering at the temple entrance, and a poor widow that gives all she has, though only a couple of pennies.  He then asks His listeners which one gave the more generous gift.  The widow gave more in proportion to what she had, and her gift pleased God.

Remember the “Golden Rule?” Well, Jesus came up with it!  After teaching about various topics, such as giving to the needy, prayer, fasting, and judging others, Jesus says that one principle sums it all up.  “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.”  

(Matthew 7:12)

Steps to cultivate generous hearts:

·         Gratitude: recognition that everything we have comes from God

·         Open-handed living: hold loosely to what we have and be willing 

      and ready to share

·         Trust: Confidence that the Giver of the seed will supply our needs

        

 As is true with many areas of spiritual growth, the hardest place to begin is at home. Too often, home is the place where we fight for our rights: the most comfortable chair; the biggest piece of cake; which T.V. show to watch.  It is usually easier to be generous with our friends or with perfect strangers that with our brothers, sisters, and spouses!

Practical Tips:

• ·      Next time you go for ice cream or fries, ask your child to share with you. Depending on their response, use the moment as an opportunity to explain that just as you provided the treat for your child, God provides everything for our enjoyment.  When He asks us to share and be generous, He is only asking us to give from what He has so generously given to us. 

• ·       The common advice, “One child cuts the piece of pie, and the other one chooses” may be good for avoiding conflicts, but it does not encourage generosity.  Try “Abraham’s way” instead: tell one child to allow the other to cut and to choose.  Talk to both children about Jesus’s golden rule that sums up all of his teachings: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.”

• ·      As parents, we need to model generous behavior and attitudes.  Our kids will learn volumes from watching the way we” hold on” to what we have, either tightly or loosely.  

• ·      Insist that your children treat their family members as well as they treat their friends. 

• ·      Serve together as a family.  Volunteer at a food pantry, sponsor a child through Compassion International or World Vision, or serve at your local church.  Even young children can color pictures to include in a letter to your sponsored child, or they can give a gently-used, much-loved toy to a child in need at Christmas.  Exposing our children to the needs of others can open their eyes to the world around them, open their hearts to the joy of giving, and help them live with open hands.