Family

Buried Alive

Blog_BuriedAliveI don’t want to be buried alive. And I would guess if a survey were taken on the ways people least want to die, being buried alive would top the charts. Yet quietly, imperceptibly, it’s happening. Here. Now. In our own homes. Each day, we are suffocating unaware.

Who is the evil perpetrator seeking to steal our lives?

If a crime scene investigation series were devoted to finding the villain behind the madness, it would take the slyest of sleuths to crack the case—because the antagonist is among the least noticed and most unsuspected, and so much the object of our affections that we would never believe it a silent killer.

Are you in suspense wondering who the evil nemesis could be? Let me ease your curiosity. It’s…our stuff.

That’s right. Our stuff. Stop and think back to the moment you first noticed your lifeblood draining, your strength failing. It may have been in the midst of that endless succession of phone calls to customer service trying to resolve an issue with that “thing” once so needed. It may have been the last time you attempted to organize your basement or garage into some semblance of sanity. Or maybe it was when you walked by your teen’s bedroom and found them them swallowed alive by electronic gadgets as the slow-dawning realization came upon you…that a significant chunk of your labor was spent to pay for those gadgets now stealing your child away.

Yes, we need things for daily life, but when those things start to devour our life, it gets dangerous. Our precious time is spent working for, purchasing, cleaning, maintaining, refurbishing, storing, organizing, and getting rid of…things. We work extra hours, spend time away from family, all so we can have stuff we think we need, only to realize this stuff has robbed us of what we need even more.

I don’t want to come to the end of my life and regret that my time was spent on things that gather dust. I don’t want to waste my breath on things that rot, or my labor on that which can be burned in the fire. There is an allure to the temporary: it comes cloaked in light only to steal our lives. God, help us…that we do not fall victim.

“There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.” 2 Corinthians 4:18 (MSG)

Eye Level

Parent with Child Silhouette from Bing ImagesI never imagined there’d be so many work-related hazards involved in motherhood. It’s for good reason I sit with caution when playing with my son on the floor. He doesn’t realize how strong he is. I’m usually not prepared for his impromptu body-slams and NFL-worthy tackle-hugs, not to mention all the times he’s nailed me smack between the eyes with a whiffle ball or some other unidentified flying plastic object.

Sometimes, I think it would be easier just to keep my distance. Sitting in the corner on a tall kitchen stool would be safer. Locking myself behind a child safety gate might offer some protection. Or maybe I should just invest in some football gear. A good helmet and some thick padding might lessen the potential for severe injury.

As much as I might want to shelter myself from my son’s innocent though dangerous playtime antics, I’m learning how important it is to play on his level. Sitting eye to eye with him is one small way of expressing my love. It requires humbling myself—even at the risk of getting hurt. Most often, when I engage him in this way, I’m rewarded with at least one of those tackle-hugs and a few ugga-muggas.

As I sit on the floor, eye-level with my son, I think of how God humbled himself for us. He didn’t spin the world in to motion only to leave us as orphans. He came and lived among us, dwelling among the outcasts of society—loving those the world had rejected and touching those others refused to touch. He understands our sufferings because he suffered as we do, and more—humbling himself to the point of death. And all so he could be eye-level with us…all so he could show us what true love is.

“And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death– even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2:8)

True Love…is HUMBLE (Day 42, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

Beautiful Noise

Caution Signs from Bing Images There are few sounds I love more than the sound…of silence. While some might get restless in a quiet house, I get inspired. It means there will be time to think and write, and maybe even rest. Solitude is one of my closest friends.

As much as I love quiet, I don’t get a lot of it. It’s tough to come by in a house with two high-energy kids, a persistent cat, and a dog who barks at everything that passes by our front door (even if it’s a leaf). Last year for my birthday, I asked for a half-day locked in the bedroom—alone with my computer and a mind full of uninterrupted ideas. But even the closed door and droning fan couldn’t drown out the noise beyond.

It wasn’t long before my solitude was invaded by something not-so-peaceful. The kids played on and squealed in ear-piercing decibels, blissfully unaware there was a momster of a storm brewing on the other side of the door. Before the storm could erupt to full-blown chaos, something stopped me. A still, small voice whispering. “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.”

I reluctantly unplugged the fan that had drowned out a fraction of the noise, and listened. What I heard calmed the storm within. It was the sound of life and joy and fun and innocence. All too soon, those little noise-makers will be grown and my house will be quiet once again.

Be slow to anger. Listen. That gentle reminder helped me to hear the beautiful noise surrounding me. In the midst of that noise, there is peace. And I wouldn’t have found it had I been quick to anger.

True Love…is SLOW to ANGER (Day 32, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

The Day I Exploded

Erupting Volcano from Bing Images Have you ever said something you regret? Something that maybe needed to be said but came out at the wrong time in the wrong way? Believe me, I’ve been there a few too many times.

I’m one of those who likes to avoid conflict at all costs. If necessary, I prefer a peaceful confrontation with a peaceful outcome. It takes time, figuring out the perfect way and time to say what needs to be said, and by then its usually too late. Problem is, when I wait too long, it comes out all wrong.

This happened a few weeks ago with some people I really love. Something happened that brought long-buried issues to surface, and…BAM! It needed to be said, but it didn’t exactly come out in calm, peaceful, eloquent way I would have wanted it to. The entire conflict lasted a short time, but it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t handle it the right way.

In the midst of it, I learned that all loving relationships endure conflict at one time or another. The important thing is to take responsibility for our part. If we truly love each other, we’ll care enough to humble ourselves and admit where we were wrong. Here’s an excerpt from a letter I sent out to those involved, after taking responsibility for my part in the conflict…

What happens in one moment can affect a lifetime, and too often hurtful things are said and done in those moments that we wish we could take back. But what is done beyond those moments is equally important. What will we model through how we respond when conflict does arise (as it will in every relationship)? Will we say we’re sorry when we’re wrong? And will we forgive those who wronged us? Those examples will outlast everything else.
 
Since we can’t rewind tonight and start over, we have only a couple choices—to let this break our relationship or build it. How we respond in the long run will affect us more than tonight ever will. Again and again, I’m sorry for responding in the wrong way. I love you and value my relationship with you, and hope that one bad moment won’t destroy the countless good moments we’ve had together.

In an ideal world, we’d have no conflict. But we live in a broken world where conflict is unavoidable. It’s how we deal with it that matters. As for me, it’s humbling to admit there are times when I explode and have to pick up the pieces. But I’d rather take responsibility than pretend it never happened. I believe that storms can strengthen our relationships, if we respond in humility and love. If we care enough to rebuild what was broken, we may come out stronger than before.

True Love…TAKES RESPONSIBILITY (Day 21, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

Love and the Outcome

Heart and Hand from Bing Images It made the top headlines. A teenage girl encouraged her friend to commit suicide. Records say she had over a thousand texts to intervene, and who knows how many more phone calls and conversations. He said he was scared and didn’t want to leave his family. Even got out of the truck before the carbon monoxide took over. But she urged him to get back in. And now she’s been called before a court of law—responsible, in part, for his death.

I wonder what the outcome would have been had she chosen to be part of the solution, rather than the problem—had she chosen to intervene, for the good. And though I can’t imagine influencing someone’s suicide attempt, I can’t help but ask how my silence in certain situations has contributed to a tragic outcome. Had I intervened—would the outcome have been different? Though I may never know, at least I’d have the peace of knowing I tried.

When it comes to something like suicide, I think we’d all agree on the importance of getting involved on behalf of a friend. But in other areas—those with less immediate consequences, we often stand quietly by, watching and wondering if things would be different if we’d just speak up. Our society is built on a faulty notion of a love that doesn’t intervene. We mistakenly believe that if someone is happy doing something—however self-destructive, the loving thing to do is to keep quiet. We fear being considered narrow-minded, even hateful, for saying something that could help.

Maybe there’s constant news of shootings and mass murders and other violence because no one was loving ENOUGH to say something when it needed to be said. If we had spoken truthfully, in love, when we saw a hint of a problem—or just had that gut feeling that something wasn’t right…maybe things would be different.

When I was a teen, I flushed a loved one’s liquor down the toilet because I saw its potential to destroy them. My actions wreaked havoc, initially. But in the end, it was a wake-up call that helped contribute to the ending of a potentially destructive addiction. It’s a decision I don’t regret, no matter how hard it was at the time. As mentioned in a past blog post, we may be misunderstood in the process. But that should never stop us from intervening for the good of those we love.

True Love…INTERVENES (Day 20, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

But I Thought You LOVED Me

Blog_BandaidHeart Oh, the look on my son’s face when I told him he couldn’t stick his head in the toilet. And when I thwarted his attempt to dive face-first into the empty bathtub. Or that time he figured out how to remove the protective shields from the electric sockets and I had to snatch his hand from certain danger. Those huge brown eyes, that look of shock. “Really, Mommy? Tell ME ‘no’? But I thought you LOVED me.”

That look of surprise typically melts into that smile he knows I can’t resist. He squints his eyes as if to say, “How can you tell this FACE ‘no’?” And he knows just how hard it is. When I steel my resolve against his charming tactics, that smile fades into the most pathetic, heart-rending pout. And when that doesn’t work…the WAIL that says, “If you loved me, you’d let me do whatever I want”.

Of course, big, compassionate sister comes to the rescue with that look. “How could you tell my impossibly cute baby brother ‘NO’?” And as they both stare me down with those eyes I have to explain I was saving him from drowning, cracking his skull, getting electrocuted, or whatever other potential disaster I just helped to evade. I may have even been saving his LIFE. No matter how I explain, they just don’t understand.

I’ve never liked being misunderstood. Especially when I’m saying or doing something because I love someone. The prevailing mindset is if we love someone, we watch them do whatever makes them happy even if we know it’s gonna hurt them. If it makes them happy to walk down the middle of a busy street and step in front of a semi, hey—just let them. If I say there’s a sidewalk to keep them safe from traffic, I’m considered narrow-minded and unloving. Just let me do what I want. The semi’s coming at me full-speed, but don’t intervene. It wouldn’t be loving.

If I love my kids, I’m most certainly going to intervene if something could hurt them (or if they’re about to hurt somebody else). In truth, it would be neglectful not to intervene. It’s the same in any relationship. If I see a friend or loved one nearing the edge of a deadly cliff, the loving thing is to say—and do, something…even if it’s misunderstood.

True love cares more about others’ well being above it’s own. It means being willing to step out of our comfort zones and even risk our reputation, if that’s what it takes to help someone. As for me, I sometimes have to be dubbed “the mean mommy” for a few hours because I cared enough to keep my kid from taste-testing the cat litter. Keeping the ones I love safe (and healthy!) is worth it. Even when I’m misunderstood.

True Love…is often MISUNDERSTOOD (Day 19, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)

My Two-year Old Professional Distractor

TimeClock from Bing Images I was finally free. After my many attempts at updating my blog throughout the day had been thwarted by my two-year old professional distractor, it was time, at last. I could breathe deep, soak in the silence, sit at the computer, and write without interruption.

One keystroke into my blog post, I heard the door creak open in forewarning that the third escape attempt was now underway. Soon enough, the little escapee was tugging at my pant leg, staring me into compliance with his heart-melting teddy bear eyes. “Mommy, I need you!” How could I resist?

Since he was a baby, I’ve cuddled him to sleep every night. Usually, I wait for him to be completely knocked out before I tiptoe away. And sometimes, I abide at least three Mommy I Need You rounds before he’s officially “out.”

That night, I wasn’t so patient. I plopped him in the high chair, turned on some sure-to-put-him-to-sleep music, handed him a sippy cup, and returned to the blogosphere. Convinced he was finally asleep after several minutes of quiet, I turned to find him peering around the back of his highchair, just staring at me with those eyes as if to say, “What on that screen could possibly be more interesting and important than me?”

There are days I get so involved in the tasks before me that I forget the most important thing is to be involved in the lives of those I love. My computer screen may be calling me. A million important tasks might be screaming my name. But love is calling me to be involved in what’s most important. At the end of my life, do I want it to be said that I was very involved in the task at hand? No. I want to be known for being committed to the work of love.

It won’t be long enough that my kids are saying, “Mommy, I need you.” And even beyond those years of them saying they need me, I want to show them I love them by being involved in their lives—meeting their deepest needs for quality time, even if it means sacrificing my own plans.

“My whole life I complained that my work was being interrupted until I realized that the interruptions were my work.” (Henri Nouwen)

True Love…is INVOLVED (Day 13, #50ShadesOfTrueLove)