Day by Day – May 2008

May 21, ‘08

Some days I want to run. Far and away. Funny thing though – I’d have to shuffle there. Running isn’t an option any more. So, in this situation, is the cup half full or half empty?

Let’s ponder this reality of the progression of PD in our lives…

You can barely brush your teeth alone.
Half full: you’ve got a great reason now to give to the dental hygienist when she gets all over you for not flossing six times an hour.
Half empty: when we smile there will be spinach stuck between our teeth and it’ll look like moss is growing out of our mouths. This could, however, prove to be extremely useful in certain circumstances.

Hence, this is a half full item.

Take the running topic. We don’t run. We shuffle. Is this a half full or half empty situation?
Well, half full would mean you are forced to stop and smell the roses along the way as you shuffle by. People think you now just really know how to experience goodness. But then, the half empty syndrome could take over and as you make the best of that shuffle and smell that rose, you may get a bumble bee up your nose. (Trust me – it happens.) So, which is it?

I say half full, for the fragrance of that rose is worth every shuffled step, especially when the old smeller is losing it’s power and every scent is a treasure.

So what about the smell factor? Many of us suffer from not being able to smell like we used to (and I am not necessarily meaning this literally). Is this an automatic half empty viewpoint? No way! I thank God every time I hear someone pass gas that I can’t smell like I used to! It’s a blessing! You have got to take the blessings with the struggles or the struggles will just plain… stink!

Now, here’s my last point: tremors. You may ask what good can there be in tremors? They shake you up, tire you out, stiffen what’s left of the word limber and they’re annoying. But, let me tell you a story about what happened the other day.

My husband and I were driving through Oregon on the way to my daughter’s graduation. It was windy as we drove along the Columbia River, headed toward Portland. The trees, covered with new growth, were swaying and their leaves clapping in the wind. It reminded me of Isaiah, where it says,

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

My husband stopped at Multnomah Falls so that I could take a picture. I got out to snap my shot and above me was the largest bald eagle I had ever seen. I felt like I could have touched it. It’s wingspread was enormous and it hovered above me for a good thirty seconds as I stood below him in awe. I was speechless at the beauty and glory of God. I laughed. I told God he was pretty amazing. I glanced at the trees and a burst of wind power pushed its way past me and through the trees and once more, there they stood, clapping their leaves in praise to their Creator.

As I stood in wonder, I lifted my right arm to the sky to thank God for such a wonderful moment and that’s when it happened. The tremors took over. As my arm was raised, my hand shook involuntarily. And bad. Or was it good? For, as I stood there, a tear went down my cheek as I realized that in unison with the leaves of the trees, my hand was moving in the same way and praising God.

If I had a cup at that moment, it would have been more than half full. PD might take my ability to move when and how I want to move, but it still allows me to praise God, sometimes in ways I would never have imagined!

Isaiah spoke truth: God truly will lead us in joy and peace, into such a place where we, just like those trees, will be clapping in adoration.

So, I challenge you – next time you are holding what seems to be a half empty cup, put it down, wipe the moss from your teeth, smell that rose and raise your hand in praise to God and remember… it could always be worse.

Star Date 05 22 08

I never did like that show. Here come the tomatoes, I’m sure.

If it helps though, I love Ewoks. Little furry creatures with an accent that only a person with a childlike mentality can understand. That would be me. Not a little furry creature, but one in possession of a childlike mentality. I’m grown up when I have to be. But the truth? I don’t want to be.

Grown-ups worry too much. They fret over their finances (I am very grown up!) and worry over their kids (I have many gray hairs to testify to my grown-upness). A child sees the fun in life – the cotton candy stand under the ferris wheel. And not only does he see the fun, but he feels safe, not giving a thought that the big, giant contraption might unsnap and come crashing down. Even if he gave that a thought, he’d know his super duper hero hat would protect him.

As for the cotton candy? He knows for certain that his daddy will buy it for him. All he has to do is ask. So he does.

God taught me an important lesson this week: to pray for myself.

I pray for Jack and Jill, Ken and Barbie, their aunts and uncles, second cousins and Aunt Martha. But I’ve always had a hard time praying for me. Everyone else’s struggles seem so much greater. But this week, when the trials and the tribulations just about broke my back from the weight I carried, my heavenly Father took me to the amusement park and we rode on the ferris wheel.

When we had circled around and got to the top, He made the wheel stop and we sat there as it gently rocked – back and forth, back and forth. It was soothing and I found myself resting there in His presence. I felt like I was being rocked by my daddy.

As we sat there, He showed me the world – the way that He saw it. He showed me how each little piece of my life fits intricately with the next. He explained how so often we try to work the puzzle, but because we’re unable to see all the pieces, we get frustrated. We want the puzzle to be finished now so that we can sit back and relax. But sometimes the puzzle takes longer to finish because pieces tend to get lost and then we have to look for them or wait until they show up on their own.
Sometimes it takes longer to finish a puzzle because before we can fit one piece here or there, a few others have to be strategically placed. That causes us to lose patience and we try to force-fit pieces into places where they don’t belong.

Why is it so hard for us to let God be God? Why is it so hard to sit back and relax while God is creating His puzzle, instead of badgering Him to hurry up and get it done?

So I sat there, wondering what a ferris wheel ride had to do with any of this puzzling puzzle phenomenon. And He showed me.

My life is that puzzle that I try to put together alone at times. I watch others putting theirs together and when I see them trying to fit a piece into the wrong place, I come beside and offer to help them. But I find I try to assemble mine alone because others seem to be having a rough enough time with their own, I don’t want to burden them with my struggles. And when I would pray, I used the same deceptive thought process in my conversations with God. Others were having a harder go of things and needed my prayers more than I needed to pray for myself. And it took sitting at the top and seeing things from His view before I realized how deceived I have been and how those pieces aren’t going to fit well without His guidance and help and more importantly, the pieces of my life are as important to Him as any other.

God wants us to be wise and wear our hard hats through life as the pieces fall around us, but He wants us to believe that He is there to protect us first and foremost, for any catastrophe, large or small. And if we believe He is there to protect us, then we must believe that He loves us and, if He truly loves us, He wants to give us our heart’s desires, according to His will. We have to believe that all the pieces will fit together for good and we have to trust Him to put them in the right places.

Sometimes that means resting and waiting. Sometimes that means praying for yourself and trusting Him to take care of you, even if you might feel your struggles aren’t significant. Just like the little boy at the amusement park, all we have to do is ask our Daddy. I am often so surprised just how many times He says yes and I get the cotton candy. And boy, am I glad became as a child and asked.

As I eat my cotton candy, we walk home, hand in hand, my Daddy and I.

Journeying with you,

Sherri