decision

All-consuming, that's how it's been. I find myself with a constant undercurrent moving beneath my thoughts, sometimes forming waves that crash disruptively over my listening skills. Like in a meeting last week, where twice I was caught deep in thought about The Decision.

It's a very cool opportunity to spend a year working at another location, to meet a new team of people and live in their culture. The company is sensitive to the fact that my husband, who owns a business, will not go with me - on this sojourn, at least.

Opportunity = change. And change is not something I take lightly.

Finally I realized that this isn't about trying to figure it all out on my own, that God has a vested interest, too.

As I've been able to slow down and place it in God's hands and put it on God's timetable, it has brought peace and anticipation instead of perplexity and anxiety.

streeeeeeeetch

Driving to Bronson Park, wondering what I was thinking. Not too late to turn around.

Had I turned around, I would have missed Triple Decker Guy (peanut butter on outside layers, jelly in the center - the "club sandwich of peanut butter"), Joseph and Darlene, Martin and Mike, and Ellen. Not to mention the two-year old on whom we bestowed bubbles.

It was a Jesus thing. Head to the park with July 4th leftovers, a giant jar of peanut butter, jelly, cold water, soda - and see who would show up.

It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but became easier as I focused on the task at hand - serving others, asking their names, asking about them. For me, it wasn't about working Jesus into the conversation to gain a convert. It was about being present with some people who are not like me, but who are like me - for as was mentioned at church today, we're all the same at the Cross.

Streeeeetch. It's good to enlarge the boundaries, to step outside the comfort zone.

I won't be going all the way back into it. The comfort zone, that is.

open. close.

I think I have decided. It's time to lay it down.

Doors open and close for a reason. I'm not quite sure why this one opened, or why I feel compelled to close it.

I wanted to become a Dale Carnegie instructor, and put it on my "blue sky" prayer drawing. And seemingly out of the blue, within a month, I got a call asking if I would be interested. Excitement! Thrill!

Stepping through the open door was exhilarating; going to preliminary training was energizing.

The reality of the first conference weekend brought me to a crashing halt. Who was in charge? The leaders were discussing alternatives in a philosophical fashion. Expectations were not clear. I'm not a quitter, damn it. So I pressed on, only to be told (after relentless follow-up) that I needed (drum roll, please) - more training.

Disappointment, sure. But I'm not a quitter.

I signed up to coach with my sponsor, and he generously gave opportunity for me to run parts of the weekly sessions. And invited me to coach with him at a training this summer.

There's a sense that all is not well, however. The coaching that I expected to receive isn't forthcoming. He is involved in building the other part of his business. The focus this past week was on praising the other coaches; and recruiting coaches for the next session. The invitation for me to participate was conspicuously absent.

I'm not a quitter, but I want to quit.

My husband says, "Wait". If this session finishes and I am not invited to go further, that is an answer. Oh, waiting is difficult.

My friend put it well yesterday. She gently said that it seems to be stressful for me, and that I'm scrapping. Scrapping in the sense of trying to prove that I can do it.

Ah, friendship. To have someone who knows and loves me; a person who calls forth what has been swirling in my thoughts for the past few weeks.

It's true. Ever since "they" told me I needed more training, I was on it, ready to prove them wrong, ready to tackle any requirement they put on me. But think about it - why? Why prove them wrong? What is wrong with them being right, with me not being ready or good enough or whatever? I'm letting an insignificant failure define me; I'm giving "them" the power. I don't measure up to their standards, and so what?

How much more energy am I willing to devote to fruitless struggle with an uncertain outcome? Why not step back into the volunteer coaching role where I excel - where I have fun - where there is zero pressure?

Why don't I close the damn door this time?

birthday boy

The photo is of the birthday boy, my dad, Chuck Zimmerman.

The occasion is his 80th birthday party, held yesterday evening. And to think that a year ago, his greatest gift was coming home after two weeks in the Meijer Heart Center. My mom decided then and there that this party was going to be BIG. We're talking BIG, because she knows how to throw a party!

We had about eighty people there. Fraternity brothers from Beloit College, tennis buddies old and young, doctors, lawyers, new friends from the retirement community. And of course, our core family.

How many people get honored by young and old alike at such a celebration? Of course we did hear about some escapades (Polly and her parrot, for Pete's sake). But there were a couple of stories that really struck me.

There's the time that our church was bitterly divided, with a pastor that was doing wrong. My dad wasn't on the session, but one night as they met, the story was told of my dad coming into the room and sitting down at the table. When asked why he had come, he said, "I wanted to be here to pray with you during this difficult time."

Another person said that my dad is truly a man who lives his faith. He doesn't talk about it, but he sure walks it out. Whether it is his commitment to my mom (who he referred to as "the love of my life" in his opening remarks last evening), his dedication to the Salvation Army, or his willingness to arrange an intervention for an alcoholic friend, he quietly does the right thing. That doesn't mean he's perfect by any means, but I think he has a healthy sense of God's grace and doesn't let his mistakes stop him.

So when I spoke, it began with the statement that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Because my dad has invested in people - because he thinks for himself and speaks his mind - because he lives his faith, so do I.

And in a strange way it comforts me to know that although I won't have him here forever, he will be here.

Because those lessons live on in me.

God = Chiropractor

I realized this morning that God is a chiropractor, only more so.

It's been one of those weeks where my attitude got the best of me. Emotional exhaustion from sharing Bill and Debbie's grief left me less than resilient. (Meaning I was not relying on God to help me recuperate).

Then came a somewhat incomprehensible situation, one that resurrected the emotions of a desire unfulfilled. Because I play the comparison game, I traveled to "My contributions don't count and I must be worth less (maybe even nothing)."

Wow. My self-talk is a crime.

God asked Jonah, "Do you have any right to be angry?" Jonah was struggling with thoughts of unfairness. OW. God reached in and adjusted my heart.

Psalm 84 - "What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord, who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem..." OUCH! Where have I set my mind? I feel God's hands beginning to massage and adjust my thoughts.

I remember that last fall I said I want more joy in my life... Why? Joy produces energy. Anger produces exhaustion. I want energy!

My friend, Wendy, had a day (or days?) not long ago where she wrote "Count your blessings" on Facebook. Repeatedly. A great reminder to me today, because I am focused on the one thing God has withheld from me and given to someone else, instead of His generous blessings heaped all around me.

Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.

be kind

Some days, you just have to be kind to yourself. Today is one of those days.

I found myself wrapped in a web of grief, the kind that makes decisions difficult, leaves you wandering the house in your pajamas, and wanting to snap at the store clerk who says, "Have a good one!"

It's risky business letting yourself into the painful experience someone else is having. I remember sitting across from the doctor yesterday as he explained "the procedure" to my brother and me. This procedure removed the "tissue" and the placenta from my sister-in-law. I woke up this morning wishing that I had said, "Please! It's a baby! Stop being so abstract about this!"

So today, being kind to myself means setting aside the agenda I had. No studying. Not even as much piano practice as I should have done. Instead, I painted the new plasterwork in the front hallway. The sweep of the roller... the soothing color of the paint... the rhythm of physical activity calmed my mind.

I wouldn't have missed a moment of yesterday, though. That's what love is - being there during the hard times.

Even when it hurts.

celeste

Today we said goodbye to Celeste.

She was 11 weeks and 1 day from conception, measured perfectly to the day on Wednesday. My sister-in-law went in for a routine pregnancy checkup.

There was no heartbeat. The routine quickly became non-routine, and the D&C was scheduled for today. With tears in her eyes, she told me, "I keep thinking that someone is going to call me and tell me this is a joke."

She had dreamed that morning that she was bleeding, perhaps an unconscious anxiety after having a miscarriage in December. Or perhaps her body's way of letting her mind know that something was wrong.

It's harder than the first one, they agree. And can they withstand another miscarriage, they wonder. But that conversation waits until they pass this "for worse" moment in their marriage.

They might hold Noah a little closer and hug him a little tighter for awhile. They are so grateful for their beautiful 18-month old son.

It seemed important to me to name this child, and as I drove home, I thought "Celeste". It seems appropriate that it means "heavenly", because today she flew home to her Heavenly Father as we opened our reluctant hands and let her go.

Ah, Celeste. We miss you. There is some comfort knowing that we will see you in heaven.