Relationships

Pure Love

It started out as an endearing moment. After gifting me with an impromptu hug, my daughter lingered by my side, snuggling against my arm. I felt so loved.

“Awww, you must’ve really missed me this afternoon.” I stretched out my arms and returned the hug, reveling in her childlike affection. That’s when I noticed her glance shifting from my face to the fridge and back.

“Wellllllll, Mommy…” She looked at me with pity and expectation. “I’d really like something cold. You know, with chocolate on both sides and ice cream in the middle.”

“Oh, I get it.” I smiled wryly. “You don’t want me, you want an ice cream sandwich.”

She shrugged, face brightening with her shy, sweet smile. “Ummmm, yeeeahhh…”

I had to laugh. While my daughter has times when ulterior motives overtake her little shows of affection, I have no doubt that she truly loves me. Moments like these are humorous in light of her precious innocence.

But there are those in this world who don’t have such childlike innocence. Ulterior motives undergird their actions and poison their words. It’s not cute or funny when an adult uses love as a guise for selfish ambition. The smallest amount of poison can kill the most tender of hearts.

Have you heard of the woman from Samaria? She’d become so used to men approaching her with ulterior motives, it was expected as commonplace. And she was known for succumbing to their greedy desires. Until one day she met a man who asked nothing of her but water from the well. In return, he offered her water that would never leave her thirsty again—a water of true love from pure motives.

This woman, who’d spent years living to fulfill the insatiable appetites of others, was now filled with an understanding of what love was meant to be. This understanding transformed her life, healed her heart, and gave her renewed purpose. Because we were created to be filled with life transforming love—a love that is pure, and a love that purifies.

“Jesus answered, ‘Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.’” (John 4:13-14)

Source: Pure Love

Beautiful Noise

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.

Source: Beautiful Noise

Aboard a Sinking Ship

It was an otherwise calm night at sea as the Titanic moved forward on its maiden voyage, all aboard blissfully unaware of the horrors to face them in the night ahead. The ship was strong, unsinkable—so they were told and so they believed. Nothing could disturb the vessel of luxury and glory.

Close to midnight, the fantasy world of the floating palace was shaken. Initial reports would claim it was an iceberg that dealt the initial deathblow to the ship. But what was it that ultimately led more than 1,500 people to an icy grave in the depths of the sea? While many factors contributed to the tragedy, one of the recurring themes of each failure was pride.

There was pride on the part of the ships owners, who for mere aesthetic purposes lessened the number of lifeboats on board in favor better views. There was pride on the part of the crew, who for the sake of expedience failed to execute a safety drill for the passengers. And there was pride on the part of those passengers who considered their own lives more significant than the others—clamoring for their own spot on a lifeboat while leaving others to face certain death.

The tragic story of the Titanic continues to haunt listeners over a century later. I can’t escape that enveloping, somber cloud as I examine my own heart in light of the story. What would I have done were I a passenger on that sinking ship? If my own life, or that of my precious family, were at stake—would I consider others better than myself? I pray that I would, but we never know what we’re made of until tragedy strikes.

I do know that true love is humble, considering others better than itself. It does not clamor for its own survival as others are left fighting for life. It does not sit idly by, secure in its lifeboat—watching without emotion as others slip to the depths of the sea while knowing there was more than enough room for rescue.

As for me, I have no plans to board a luxury cruise ship. The thought of being trapped and seasick on a floating vessel with nothing but miles of water surrounding does not appeal to me. But what of those people surrounding me every day? How often do I put their needs before mine? Do I walk on in pride, considering my own needs and interests greater than theirs? Or am I willing to humble myself and consider others desires above my own?

Source: Aboard a Sinking Ship

A Promise Worth Holding On To

Unlike the average advertising gimmick, true love makes good on its promises. It doesn’t say one thing, only to deliver the opposite. It’s meant to be a worthy investment, not a wasted dream.

Source: A Promise Worth Holding On To

Indestructible

You might feel broken, but you are not beyond repair. Your life might look like a pile of impossible puzzle pieces, but it can be pieced together. Your relationships might be shattered, but they can be restored. God holds the broken pieces of your life. And not only can he put it back together…he desires to.

Source: My Personal Destructobot

Weather Wimps, Beware

If you live somewhere close to the equator, you may think you have it made. You don’t have to worry about blizzards, shoveling, snow days, or sub-zero temperatures. The weather reports are so boring where you live, it’s a wonder the meteorologist doesn’t fall asleep on the job. Eighty degrees and sunny all week, every week is not all that interesting. You may even have become a bit snobby about your warm weather location, boasting without reservation on social media while the rest of us suffer chronic hypothermia and mid-winter depression.

Maybe I’ve become bitter about the weather situation where I live. Literally. Because I’ve not-so-affectionately coined a phrase for all the warm-climate snobs out there. Weather Wimps.

Yes, Weather Wimps. You may never have to scrape ten-inch thick ice sheets from your car windows while icicles form in your nostrils and your long johns freeze to your thighs, but you don’t know what it is to endure the harsh reality of inclement winter weather. We in the Midwest are durable. We know how to survive the breath-choking heat of summer and the bone-chilling cold of winter, all in the same year—sometimes in the same month. We know how to layer up, and we know how to cool down. And our city infrastructure doesn’t shut down over a light dusting of snow.

You Weather Wimps will never know the rewards of our great suffering. Out here, we appreciate spring. We don’t take the sun for granted. The first green tree buds of the year are enough to make us pause and breathe thanks. A fragrant flower is not to be ignored. After a few months of frostbite-inducing cold, we wear a spring breeze like a royal garment. The heat of summer soon scorches relentlessly, but we get to witness an explosion of fall colors and treasure the crisp autumn air in the months to follow.

Midwestern weather patterns more realistically resemble human relationships. In every relationship, there’s the newness of spring, the scorching heat of summer, the beautiful yet mournful death of fall, and the frigid winds of winter. Weather Wimps, beware. If you approach relationships the way you approach your weather reports, you may be setting yourself up for disappointment. No relationship is as perfect as a Southern California day. Relationships are rough-hewn and rugged. More like…a typical Chicago forecast.

True love is unfailing. It doesn’t cave when storms rush in. It doesn’t hibernate when emotions run cold. It’s as steadfast as a Midwesterner trapped in a polar vortex. Weather Wimps, take heed. You may be gloating over there, in your heated outdoor pool while we shovel our walks for the thousandth time. But you have something to learn from us Midwesterners. And it’s not just about the weather.

Source: Weather Wimps, Beware

The Day I Celebrated my 107th Birthday

I’m not even a half-century old, as some have come to believe—though I did celebrate my 107th birthday last year. My birthday does not fall on Leap Year. And while my memory is not completely in tact, I do recall the day I nearly doubled in age.

Remembering birthdays has never been my strong point, and it has nothing to do with old age. I don’t expect anyone but my immediate family to remember mine. Sometimes, I even forget my own birthday. So I entered it on Facebook as February 29, 1908 as a joke. That way I’d only have to celebrate once every four years, which is fine by me.

I’d forgotten all about it until I opened my account on February 28, 2015 to a timeline filled with birthday wishes—though those who really know me caught the humor behind it. After a good laugh, I thanked my well-wishers, apologized for the misunderstanding, and changed my birthday info in the account settings.

The whole thing got me thinking—how well do I really know my friends? There’s no way I could know every detail about everyone’s life, and I wouldn’t expect a small fraction of my friends to know the same about me. But those closest to me, know me—and I, them.

There are friends from different seasons of my life, all whom I love for the roles they’ve had in my life story. Some of those friends I know well, others I wish I’d had the chance to get to know better. Then there are those with whom I’ve shared the deepest valleys and the highest heights. We know each other well enough to “see into” each other. We don’t need social media to remind us the details of our lives, because we already know.

Beyond even the best of friendships, there is one who knows us better than we know ourselves. God not only knows the day we were born, he knew us before we were born. It says he knows our deepest thoughts and our unspoken desires. He sees the hidden corners of our hearts, yet loves us still. So, even if the world mistakenly believes me to be 107 years old, God counts the exact number of my days. Because true love knows.
 
“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” (Psalm 139:1-6)

Source: The Day I Celebrated my 107th Birthday