11/11/11: Thankful for Veterans and Those Still Fighting

"Nov. 11: Thankful to all Veterans and those still fighting for preserving my freedom. Wish you could go on the front line at the US Capital where I fear my freedom is in danger the most."


Today is Veteran's Day, which naturally turns my attention to those who fought and still are fighting to preserve the freedom that I have as an American citizen.  I truly am thankful for the men and women who do what I do not do.  I do not actively participate in a military.  I do not gather intelligence on the enemy.  I do not help plan or execute any campaigns.  I do not sacrifice to leave my family for months or years to go to the front lines of a battle against terrorists or other foes who try to take my life and to take away the liberties we have as Americans.  


Or do I?


While I truly am thankful for those who formally have served and are serving this country, I want to take this opportunity to discuss those of us who do not formally serve but serve just the same.


I am an American.  My weapon is my choice.  I can choose to vote, or I can choose not to vote.  If I choose to vote, I can choose for whom I vote.  I can choose to vote "party line" or I can choose to vote for individuals, regardless of party affiliation or lack thereof.  


I am an American.  My weapon is my voice.  I can choose to speak out, or I can choose to remain silent.  If I choose to speak, I can choose the media through which I speak.  I can speak one on one.  I can write to my representative in our republic.  I can write a blog post.  I can write a Facebook status.  I can place a bumper sticker on my car or a sign in my yard.  I can wear a t-shirt.  


I am an American.  My weapon is my intellect.  I can choose to use it, or I can choose not to use it.  I can choose how much information I want to consider or how little.  I can choose how to gather than information, which sources I deem credible and which I do not.  I can discern what is going on around me.  I can choose to stick my head in the proverbial sand of denial and avoidance.


I am an American.  My weapon is my liberties.  I can choose to exercise my freedom and owning the responsibility that goes with my freedom.  Viktor Frankl wrote that the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast should be accompanied by a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast, and I believe that wholeheartedly!  While I cannot erect such a statue on my own, I can embrace the message and choose to live my life by that message.  


I am an American.  My immediate enemy is not the person with the bomb or the gun; rather, my immediate enemy is apathy and quiet surrender to those who, in the name of democracy, attempt to remove my liberties one by one until I realize that I have very few freedoms left.  My battle line is to recognize and confront propaganda, regardless from which camp it emanates, and to discern the lies and falsehoods from the truth.


I am an American who is thankful for our military forces.  


I am an American who can fight a different war to make their fighting worthwhile.

11/10/11: Music

"Nov. 10: Thankful for Music"


If I were to expound upon the many reasons I am thankful for music, I would be writing for hours.  Music is a vital part of lives but often is not even noticed.  Try watching a movie without a musical score and you would realize how much music goes unnoticed.  Now, imagine life without music.  I truly believe there would be an increase in every unpleasant human event--crime, violence, suicide, neglect, you name it!


Yes, I am thankful for music in general, but I also am thankful for music personally.  I am thankful that my Mom was more stubborn than I and, with the use of many threats and spankings, made me practice the piano.  I am thankful that my junior high choir teacher, Mrs. Cathy Tanner, realized that I was an accompanist and not a concert pianist.  I prefer to be in the background, either playing with an ensemble or accompanying singers.  Maybe that's why my first paragraph turned out the way I hadn't planned, thankful for background music.  I am thankful that the piano teacher I had in junior high, Mrs. Jane Blackerby, realized that I see music and, being a math teacher, taught me by emphasizing my innate ability to see the math in the music which helps me sight read better than I could have otherwise.  I don't play much anymore, but when asked I like being able to say yes.  I also like singing, but like piano I prefer to sing in a group, never solos.  I get so anxious that my voice comes out so much worse than it actually is, which is bad because it ain't that great in the first place!  However, I'm an alto who can read music, so there's some value in that.


In actuality, when I wrote I was thankful for music, I wasn't thinking at all about all of the stuff I mentioned in the previous two paragraphs.  I was thinking of something very specific that happened on the morning of Nov. 10.  Geyer Springs hosted a workshop for the PRISM Music Publishing Company and requested that some of the choir members attend so the music ministers who would be there could hear how the choral music sounded, especially since the majority of the attendees would be men.  Given that I now have some flexibility in my work schedule, I was able to attend.  I was greeted by Jon Skelly, my current Minister of Music.  I sat by Paul Buck, my previous Minister of Music. Afterwards I spoke with Mark Davis, one of my other previous Ministers of Music.  That was pretty cool.


The lyrics of one of the songs we sang is the specific reason I wrote that I was thankful for music.  I wish I could remember the song title and who wrote it, but I didn't snap a photo of the title page. I did, however, snap a photo of the chorus because the words spoke so powerfully to me:
"God, You are God even when I don't feel You.
 God, You are God even when I don't see You.
 I will worship, I will worship.
 God, You are God when I feel like I'm falling.
 God, You are God, beyond my understanding.
 I will worship, I will worship."


Wow! Talk about speaking to me right where I need it most!  If you have read any of my previous posts, particularly my "Post with No Name," you understand why these words meant so much to me.  I am a thinker.  I look for evidence.  I believe what I see, not what I hear.  So many times, people say one thing but their actions say quite another.  I look for proof.  I have a believing heart but I try my faith.  Every time I try it, God proves it, but I still keep trying it.  I don't think there is anything wrong with that.  I don't think it shows that I am weak.  Then again, I always thought Thomas got a bad rap.  


Thomas was a thinker, too, a skeptic who demanded proof.  He wasn't going to believe that Jesus had risen simply because someone said so.  He tried his faith.  Jesus understood that.   He understood Thomas' nature even more than Thomas did.  Jesus offered Thomas the proof.  Jesus passed the test and Thomas' faith was strengthened.  The term "Doubting Thomas" has taken on such a negative connotation that I think is quite unfair.  Even the scripture used to attack Thomas as weak is, I think, misinterpreted by so many people, people for whom believing and having faith is easier than it was for people like Thomas, and like me.


²⁴ Now Thomas (also known as Didymus^[a]), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. ²⁵ So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!”

   But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

 ²⁶ A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” ²⁷Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

 ²⁸ Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”

 ²⁹ Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

John 20: 24-29

I want to pay particular attention to verse 29: "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."  I do not think Jesus was telling Thomas, "Shame on you.  You should have been like these others who did not question.  They are so much better followers of me because they believed.  You, however, required proof, so you are a lesser and weaker follower of Me."  That is the way it has been interpreted by many who follow up with, "Just believe."  For someone like me, however, that interpretation does nothing more than add to feelings of shame and guilt for being, what?, for being ME, for being the person God made me to be?  Why would Jesus shame that?

I have another interpretation of that verse.  I think Jesus was not referring to the other disciples in the room when He said "those."  I believe Jesus was referring to those of us who, like Thomas, are critical thinkers who look for evidence to support our faith and who don't "just believe."  I think

Jesus freely offered the proof that Thomas needed because Jesus knew Thomas, knew the person he was, knew that others throughout time would be much like him, and Jesus offered proof to Thomas specifically, stating that others like Thomas were blessed by believing the proof He offered Thomas.  People like me are the "those."

That's what those lyrics told me.  God was affirming to me in the way that He knows I need that He is still God even when I don't feel Him, when I can't see Him, and even when my mind can't comprehend or understand.  He is God when no evidence or proof is readily available to prove the trying of my faith. He is God and loves me when my thinking mind makes me doubt, and there is nothing wrong with my skepticism, just like there was nothing wrong with Thomas'.  He loves the skeptics because He made us that way, and He is not limited by my skepticism.  Rather, He offers the proof I need when I look for it because that is what helps me talk with others just like me, people who don't "just believe," and I am able to talk to them from a perspective they understand.  God is God for everyone, for every temperament, not just for those for whom faith is as natural as my skepticism.  He is God no matter what, and I will worship Him.

THAT'S why I was thankful for music.

11/09/11: Toothpaste

"Nov. 9: Thankful for toothpaste"


I know that seems odd, but my friend, Sherri de Jesus, reminded me to look for out of the ordinary things for which to be thankful, like Zotz and Whistle Pops.  Yesterday, I realized just how thankful I was for toothpaste.


I had worked a very long day at SEAHDC in Warren.  I had to rewrite Behavior Support Plans for August because the old computer program they were on just quit.  I also had to write Psychology Progress Notes for every resident (102), and I had to write Behavior Support Committee Summaries for the residents to be reviewed in November.  Yep, a lot of writing.  So what does this have to do with toothpaste.  One thing: I WAS THERE FOREVER AND I HAD DRAGON BREATH!!! 


You see, when you have dragon breath, no gum or fireball can help.  It just douses the flames for a little while but even that's deceptive because all of that just coats your tongue and fans the flames of the dragon breath.  So, last night when I finally got home, I brushed my teeth and tongue...for a long time.  I realized how much I loved that my teeth didn't feel hairy anymore.  I knew I could kiss my husband without burning his eyebrows off.  That's why I'm thankful for toothpaste.  


I don't want my eyebrows burned off either.

11/08/11: YaYa's

"Nov. 8: Thankful for my YaYa's: Arlene Allen, Nina Johnson, and Cindy Prince.  Love my 'old' friends! LOL!"


Yesterday, I wrote about being thankful for a new dear friend.  Today, I am writing because I am thankful for my "old" dear friends.  Even though I am blessed still to be friends with several people I have known for years, I am writing about my YaYa's, Arlene, Nina, and Cindy.


I call them my "old" friends for two reasons.  First, I have known them over 20 years.  Second, because they all are older than I am (even though they don't look it), and I take every opportunity I can to rub it in, precisely because they don't look it!


We started calling ourselves YaYa's because we all got together for a girls' weekend, and that's the movie we watched.  About 8 people were supposed to be there, but for various reasons it ended up being just the four of us, and we have done things together ever since.  We try to get together every 3-4 months, but that rarely happens.  We may not see each other much, but when we do, we just pick up where we left off.  Yes, like the movie YaYa's, we have goofy names.  I won't tell anyone else's but I will share mine, Princess Enigma.  That's because I am the Sesame Street song "One of these things is not like the others.  One of these things is not quite the same."  Yep that's me.


These women are the best sisters an only child never had.  They were with me around the clock when my dad was in the hospital right before he died.  They had it planned that I would not be alone, so they were upset with themselves that they had gone home to sleep after days and nights of being by my side, only to have my dad die with only Dave and me in the room.  That was God's plan, not theirs.  They took me to Florida two days after my dad's funeral, helped me laugh, held me when I cried.  Nina still has both parents.  I was with Cindy when her dad passed and with Arlene when her mom did.  That's because we are family.  And if the time comes for Nina to need us at that time, we will be there.


Between the three of them, I think they know me completely.  Well, almost completely.  They know my most shameful parts of my past and loved and edified me completely.  They know my weaknesses and my strengths.  I don't know if they know my dreams and fantasies, though.  I usually keep those hidden quite well, but if any were to guess, it would be them.  


Several years ago, our world was shaken when Arlene was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  I always say that I willed her to live, and if I could have I would have.  I refused to consider the possibility that she would die.  I refused to acknowledge that, even when she sat me down and made me help her plan her funeral.  I did, but I would not allow myself to believe that it could happen soon.  This was for many years later, and everything would change by then.  I could shave her head and make her eat pudding, but I refused to allow her to die or think that it was a foregone conclusion.  Arlene, I don't have the faintest clue what you told me about your funeral, so if you want me to know your wishes for when you die, you'll have to tell me again.  I may not remember them now either, so I suggest writing them down.  (FYI:  Yes, she beat it.  She stared that disease down the barrel and defied it to take her.  Cancer backed down because it realized it had come across a formidable foe and it had no chance.  She's still cancer free and does not require scans anymore.  Another praise to the blessings of God!)


I met Arlene when she was pregnant with her daughter.  I played for her wedding this spring and she was the most beautiful bride.  Cindy was supposed to be in the delivery room with David and me until it was obvious that they were going to have to go in and get Jadyn because he was just too fat, happy, and content to come out on his own.  Dave and I visited Nina on a 4-wheeler in a foot of snow right after we found out I was pregnant, and I thought she was going to kick my pregnant self all the way across town.  We have rejoiced with all four of Cindy's grandchildren.  Yep...we've shared a lot.


We've experienced a lot together.  It's not always been easy.  We've had our very tough times, sometimes as a group, sometimes between individuals in our group.  But one thing is for certain: No matter how tough the times, the bonds of our friendship were stronger.  You are my sisters in Christ as well as in life, and I love you all so much.


YaYa!

11/07/11: Laura

"Nov. 7: So thankful for my friend, Laura Thompson Robertson, whose iron sharpens mine in so many ways."


In my "Parents" post, I repeated one parenthetical phrase "(more on that later)".  Well, it's later, and Laura is it.  As Laura put it, "Best. Story. Ever" is that our sons were friends and became best friends after my son knocked out her son at extended care and gave him a concussion.  Yes, the first time I ever saw Laura, she was pushing Tucker in a wheelchair and passed me standing by a tearful Jadyn and the first conversation went something like this:


Me: "I'm so sorry."
Laura: "That's ok."


There's the making of a great friendship, I tell ya!  


The boys were in second grade.  I think the next time I actually spoke to Laura was when they boys were in the same third grade class.  I re-introduced myself as the mom of the kid who knocked out her son and apologized again.  She said, "Are you kidding me?  That was the best thing that ever happened to Tucker!  Sure his brothers have been to the ER before, but he's the only one who ever had a concussion and he still reminds them of that!"  I loved her for that.


Even with the above story, Laura and Jim allowed Tucker to come to our house to spend the night with Jadyn.  They got along great!  This mother's heart was overflowing because I had been praying that Jadyn would find that "best friend," that buddy that just "fit."  I could tell by the way they interacted that Tucker was that buddy.  I didn't say anything; I just praised God, you know, a just-between-God-and-me kind of thing.


It was either the next night or the next weekend, I can't remember, and Tucker invited Jadyn to his house.  Again, they had a wonderful time.  When I picked up Jadyn, Laura and I began talking about our boys.  She said that even though Tucker had talked about a lot of friends, Jadyn was the first he referred to as his "best friend."  She talked about how they had played together wonderfully, even all four of them!  Then she said something I'll never forget: "I have been praying that Tucker would find that best friend that he just clicked with, and I think Jadyn's that friend."  I couldn't believe it!  I knew right then that not only would our boys be great friends but that Laura and I would be, too.  I shared with her that I had been praying the same thing for Jadyn and had thanked God for providing Tucker.  Now THAT'S the way a truly intimate friendship starts, prayer.


From that time on, Laura and I have gotten to know each other well.  We have had lunch together more times than I can count.  We hung out at her kitchen table while our boys went sledding (because the snow didn't make it to Malvern that year).  We talk on the phone and text.  We share burdens, hopes, weaknesses, and triumphs.  We tell each other it's normal to want to beat our boys, husbands included!  We know when NOT to call each other because we would be the ones who end up in a holding cell together saying, "Yeah...it was worth it!" We've prayed together.  We've even thought of writing together.  A link to her blog is on my page, and I highly recommend it.


She is a wonderful friend not only because we have things in common but because we are so different.  We make each other think differently.  It frightens her sometimes when she has what she calls "a Julie Moment" and she puts her hands to her head, shakes it, and makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan.  Not sure how to take that one, my friend!  I like it when I think like her because her faith and belief are so unshakable.  She is the one who wouldn't take my weak excuse of FB outline and challenged me to write it.  Sharpened once again, I'm writing.


Laura, my life is so much more blessed with you in it, and I am so grateful to know my sister in Christ now rather than having to wait and meet you in Heaven.  I NEED you now; in Heaven, not so much I think.  I love you, my friend.

11/06/11: Husband's Provision for a New Path

"Nov. 6: Thankful for a husband who provided a way for me to bust out of a work rut and explore different roads."


I didn't put this with my post about how thankful I am for Dave because I was saving this part specifically for this post.  Dave always has been such a hard worker.  He is a mechanical genius, and no I am not exaggerating.  I've heard him diagnose heavy truck problems simply by listening to the engine noise over the phone and being able to tell the other guy not only what exactly was wrong but which wire to look for and what to expect to find.  I don't know about you, but that's genius in my book.


Anyway, Dave always has been a hard worker and a good provider, but because of the nature of his job, he has not always been able to provide one thing we need, good health insurance.  Either where he worked wouldn't have good insurance or we both knew that for various reason his tenure would not be long (e.g., type of work environment, too much travel, etc.). So, I stayed at my former job primarily for the benefits, especially during the past four years.  Sure, it was a good place to work, but it was becoming more obvious to me with each passing year that the fit wasn't right.  I love the people and even loved what I did, but pieces were missing that could not be placed while I was there.


When Dave took a position at Riggs Caterpillar, that was my liberation.  The health insurance he had was better than what I could provide, and he had found a wonderful place to work.  We talked and agreed that it was time for me to turn the responsibility of benefits over to him and to explore career options available to me.


My first path was as the consulting psychologist for the Southeast Arkansas Human Development Center in Warren, AR.  I love it there!  I love what I do there!  I love data analysis, evaluating Quality Indicators, consulting with the staff, and writing behavior programs for the residents.  I get to go in my little office and lose myself for hours in data and writing.  This is such a refreshing change from being a therapist, not that I mind being a therapist but having been one full time for 17 years had taken its toll and I had reached burn out, bad burn out.  I felt like a shell of a person.  Even though I loved the therapy work I did, I needed something work-related that met my need, and for now my need is solitude.  Recently, I was asked to be part of a working group that will be writing the behavior management policies for the HDCs in the state, and I am very stoked about that!


I knew I needed a nest, a place in Little Rock where I could go and, you guessed it, just be alone.  I needed my books and writing notebooks surrounding me.  I needed a place of peace, a sanctuary where I could retreat and think, focus on myself a bit.  This really isn't as self-absorbed as it sounds.  I wanted to think about what I wanted to do with my career at this time in my life. I needed my space physically as well as in my own mind.  I talked about having healthy boundaries with patients, and it was time for me to establish some for myself.  So, I have a nest at the SoHo Centre on West Markham, Suite B3 to be exact, and it is right next door to one of my great friends, Dr. Jody Hagen.  


I had not even been away from the Rice Clinic (former Rice-Lewis Clinic) for a full week and I was approached by a physician friend about some possibilities.  One I followed up and it is very promising.  The other still is in the works.  But that's just it...I'm working on something NEW, and I desperately needed to stretch myself, to work in another direction, to achieve something different.  I needed variety to prevent the burn out that I have endured, and variety is what I am getting.


Yes, I do hope to have a small practice some day.  I have a few technicalities to work through but it will happen.  I'm not sure when but it will.  And, yes, it will be right here in my little nest at SoHo Centre, where there is a free coffee bar as a perk!


So, during this time of reflection, I am thankful for the provision my husband has given, knowing that all blessing are provided by God.  I don't know what my future holds, but He does.  I am confident that as long as I am being wise, my efforts will be rewarded and for me, rewards take many forms.

11/05/11: Axis & Allies

"Nov. 5: Thankful that my guys and I played Axis & Allies all evening."


When Dave was a teenager, he and his friends often played the board game "Axis & Allies."  Before Jadyn was born, I went to Toronto.  While I was there, I went to a toy store to find my mom a Beany Baby with the Canadian flag on it (don't ask...at least not now), and I spotted that game.  I bought it and carried it on the plane as my carry-on bag.  Have you seen how big that box is?  Why did I not wait until I got home to buy it?  That's just me.  I can be impulsive like that.  I saw it, remembered how much Dave liked it, and bought it for him because he had helped me go to Toronto to see Les Miserables because Colm Wilkinson had joined that touring company.  Long story, but that's just one of the many reasons I love Dave so much.  So...I bought the game and we still laugh at how I looked walking off the plane with it!


Dave introduced Jadyn to the game, and Jadyn loves it, too!  He's still learning the strategy, but he'll pick it up.  So, starting Friday night, we had a family weekend of Axis & Allies.  I am thankful that my two guys and I like each other so much that we played a board game for several hours, late into the night on both Friday and Saturday nights.  That's quality family time, and I loved every second of it...even though I lost when I played as the Allies.  I always lose when I play as the Allies.  Wonder what that says about me?


Looking forward to more family game nights!

11/04/11: Son

"Nov. 4: Thankful for my son, Jadyn.  (And, Laura Thompson Robertson, I do plan to blog details.  Consider this my "outline"!  LOL!)"  There it is...my crappy excuse to my dear friend.  (Taking a moment to hang my head in shame...OK!  Done!)


In January 2000, I went to my GYN to schedule a laparoscopy to see if there were a physiological reason I was not getting pregnant.  My GYN, Dr. Sharon Keith, asked if I could be pregnant.  I laughed and said no.  She asked how long since my last cycle, and when I said 6 weeks, she said, "That's nothing for you."  She walked out to schedule but came back in the room.  "Have you been sick in the mornings?"  Nope.  She left again.  She came back again.  "Are your (girls) sore?"  Nope.  She left again.  She came back again.  "Here.  Pee in the cup."  Ok.  Pee.  Wash hands.  Sit down and read magazine.


In walks nurse.  "Julie, this is positive."  
Me:  "Do another one."
RN: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Look.  I'm a shrink and I know about false positives.  Do another one."
RN: "It's positive."
Me:  Stare...stunned...
Dr. Keith comes back in the room.
Me: "Sharon, there are two pluses in the bathroom."
MD: "You're pregnant."
Me: "Uh-huh."
MD: "You know what I'm worried about?"
Me: "Ectopic?"
MD: "I'll get the vaginal ultrasound ready."


Me: Called Dave.
Dave: "Hello."
Me: "Hon, there are two positive pregnancy tests here."
Dave: "Whose?"
Me: "Ours!"


And so began our path of parenthood.


Jadyn is the most precious gift either one of us could imagine, but since this is my blog, I am going to write about what he means to me.  Let Dave get his own blog!  


As I write, Jadyn is 11 and in his drama class that he attends after school at Arkansas Baptist where he is in 5th grade.  I love that kid.  I LIKE that kid!  I like hanging out with him!  He and I just returned from a trip to New York City.  I mean I really like that kid!


Jadyn is such a neat kid.  He is quick with an "I love you" as well as a hug, even in front of his friends!  His understanding of people blows me away and his empathy is astounding.  He doesn't mind being different, having chosen the non-traditional sport of Taekwondo rather than the more traditional sports of football, basketball, baseball, and even soccer.  He rarely needs correction, and when he does he receives it well.  When he is angry, even at me, he talks to me. When he is disciplined, he thinks about it and learns from it.  He's a far better person than I am!


Jadyn brings so much happiness into our lives.  He completes our family.  I can't remember what life was like without him, nor do I ever want to know!   I pray for his safety--physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I pray that he continues to grow in wisdom and discernment.  I pray that he continues to surround himself with great friends.  I pray for his future wife, that she loves God and him completely.  I pray she loves us, too!  


No, this isn't a long blog post.  Yes, it is barely scratching the surface.  If I were to go into all that I am thankful for regarding my son, I would blow up with Internet!  Who knows?  Perhaps future November blog posts will contain specifics.


Jadyn, I love you more than the sand and the stars!

11/03/11:Husband

"Nov. 3: Thankful for my husband and that I married my best friend."  FB...outline...yadda yadda...


David.  I don't even know where to begin.  Perhaps the beginning is good.  It had to be God's plan that we marry because even our meeting was so unlikely it is beyond mere coincidence.  David is 6 years younger than I, so we did not meet until after I moved back to Arkansas from graduate school.  After all, when I was in 5th grade, Dave was in kindergarten, a fact which freaked out my son's best friend, Tucker.  (His mom is Laura, and her blog's link is on my page.  I highly recommend her blog!)  Well, I couldn't let it rest, so I told Tucker that our prom picture was really funny because I rested my arm on top of Dave's head and my dress was wrinkled because I had to hold it over my shoulder while David doubled me on his bicycle because he wasn't old enough to drive.  "Are you serious?"  No, Tucker.  "Oh..." (puzzled expression on his face...)  Gotta love kids, or at least messing with their minds!  At least I do.


Dave and I met at church and quickly became the best of friends.  Our mutual friends encouraged us to date but we both were hesitant because we didn't want to ruin our friendship.  So, when he came over to my apartment and asked if I wanted to date him, we talked about how to preserve our friendship if we ever broke up.  Then we watched "Shawshank Redemption."  And we've forgotten our plan of what to do if we ever broke up. 


Dave and I dated 6 months when we decided to get married.  When we went to tell my parents we were getting engaged, I saw my dad's brain liquefy and drain to lower regions of his anatomy.  Dad said, "Married?!  You're not even engaged!"  "That's what this is, dad," I told him.  Then I promptly added, "I'm not asking for your permission, but I am asking for your blessing."  At this point I witnessed Dave's insides liquefy and drain to lower regions of his anatomy.  I wasn't being disrespectful of my dad, I promise.  At least that wasn't my intention.  I was 28 and had been living on my own for several years!  Give me a break!  Needless to say, we received their blessing and six months later were married.


We've been married 12 great years, 16 total but 12 great ones!  Seriously, we are about to celebrate our 16th anniversary.  It hasn't been smooth sailing; in fact we have weathered some really big storms.  However, I am grateful to have a husband who worked just as hard as I did to keep our ship afloat in storms that have sunk others.  We still are best friends.  We choose to hang out with each other.  We laugh, bicker, argue, love.  We bring out the best in each other, and the worst.  We have grown together as a couple and as individuals.  I am thankful he is the father of my son, establishing a legacy of fatherhood that he did not have, or should I say the antithesis of the one he did have.


Dave, you have been my rock, my anchor, my wings.  If you were to ask me again to marry you, I would not hesitate in saying yes.  I look forward to a lifetime with you.

11/02/11: Extended Family

"Nov. 2: Thankful for my extended family who brought so much laughter and wonderful memories.  Wish I could see you more."  FB Status and Outline Point #2.


As an only child, I loved my extended family with all the cousins.  It gave me a chance to be around kids, not just adults.  I have such wonderful memories of family holidays and get togethers on both sides of my family.  My aunts and uncles were so much fun, my cousins served as the siblings I didn't have, and the best part was we got to go to our separate homes to avoid the sibling bickering!  But cousins could bicker, too...


My mom had two sisters who each had one child.  Yep.  Three only children.  Isn't that a hoot!  My cousin, Tony, is two years older than I and Stephanie is 7 years younger.  I think we all were jealous over "Nanny and PawPaw," but we managed not to kill each other.  I loved going to my grandparents' house, especially when food was involved.  I remember my mom, her sisters, and my Nanny all cooking in that small kitchen.  Every year at every holiday we managed to burn the bread.  Every stinkin' time!  One time, my aunt put Stephanie in front of the stove and told her to watch the bread.  It still burned.  Poor thing, I think she thought that was the way bread was supposed to be on holidays!  Any other time, my Nanny made the best biscuits, and they usually were whop biscuits.  I think it was the unhealthy bacon drippings she put on the top.  It usually is unhealthy if it tastes too good.  We cousins would save the biscuits for snacks all day long; they were even better cold!


My dad's side of the family is a different story.  My dad had two brothers and two sisters.  Actually, he had a third sister but she died as a baby before he was born.  Her name was Mary Francis.  People always said I looked like her and it would freak me out!  Imagine as a kid being told you looked like your dead aunt!  I think it was the hair.  My dad had red hair, I had red hair, and apparently Mary Francis had red hair.  Some younger third cousins came out with red hair at some point, but that was it. I don't know if they were ever told that they looked like their dead great great aunt... 


So, my dad's family, the Princes.  His siblings all had several children, not just one like my mom's sisters.  I was the next to youngest grandchild, and there were great grandchildren older than I.  My grandfather died before my parents met.  My grandmother was the matriarch, and she was something!  She died at 103.  Her hair still was not all gray and her mind was sharp as a tack. For her 100th birthday, the family planned a surprise party.  I questioned the wisdom of a surprise party for our grandmother who was turning 100 until they told me she had actually planned it and wanted us to carry it out.  That was my grandma!  


My grandma was a character.  She tried to plant a rose bush using a pick-ax and dug a hole in her sewage line.  She was 94.  My uncle had to hide the lawn mower and gardening tools after that.  She loved practical jokes, even when they nearly got her killed or her house destroyed, like when she threw a piece of black rubber hose on my dad and yelled, "Snake!"  My dad, who was deathly afraid of snakes, was a big man and almost tore down her kitchen trying to get out.   Grandma just laughed as she picked up her overturned table and chairs and cleaned the food from the ceiling.


When my dad was dying with cancer, I saw how a mother's heart never changes.  My dad was 65 and my grandma was 99.  I saw her long to cradle him in her lap and "make it all better" as we mom's want to do.  Then, on the way to his funeral, I slammed my grandma's hand in the door of the family limo.  Yep, you read it right...I SLAMMED MY 99 YEAR OLD GRANDMA'S HAND IN THE DOOR OF THE FAMILY LIMO ON THE WAY TO MY DAD'S FUNERAL!  When we got to the funeral and were seated in the family section, we asked for a Band Aid.  "Who needs a Band Aid?"  "Grandma."  "Why does Grandma need a Band Aid?"  "Because Julie slammed her hand in the car door."  "Julie!"  "It was an accident!  I swear!"  Bro. Wesley, the minister and only one who could see the commotion, just stared at us.  However, he had been around the family enough to know and later he chuckled with the rest of us.  I know my dad had to have been laughing!  At the meal after the funeral, I apologized to my grandma once again.  I really felt terrible.  She patted me on the arm and said, "Oh, it's all right.  I've decided not to sue you."  That was my grandma!   It's a good thing I don't believe in reincarnation because there isn't enough good karma in the world to get me above a dung beetle after that.


Grandma Prince lived alone until a few months before she died, and then she had lived with my aunt.  My mom called one night and said that my aunt and uncle had to use the wheelchair to help my grandma in bed.  I said, "She'll die soon."  Sure enough, she died the next morning.  My mom asked how I knew, and I said that I knew my grandma and as soon as she could not get around herself, she'd say, "I'm done!"  


My cousins Melanie and Marcia were like my sisters.  We were close in age and our parents were together almost every weekend playing a card game called Pitch.  Marcia was only 3 years older than I, and most of the time we terrorized Melanie, who was the older of the two.  I remember Melanie trying to watch Lawrence Welk (only 3 channels, remember) or a beauty pageant if she were lucky, and Marcia and I would be running around the house with towels tied around our necks playing Batman and Robin.  I think I was Robin.  Melanie taught us both the value of drinking dill pickle juice.


And then there was David.  David is only about 5 months older than I am, and we were like peas and carrots as Forrest Gump would say.  I remember their house burned right before Christmas when we were kids, so at the family Christmas party, the family was helping them replace what they needed via presents.  David and I must have been younger than 7, and most kids that age do not fully appreciate the gift of clothes at Christmas.  David's face must have shown his complete displeasure with his gifts because my aunt took him to another room where he met Jesus.  The meeting with Jesus must have given him a change of heart because with the next present he stated with an emotionless face and in a matter of fact tone, "Just what I always wanted...a pair of pajamas."


David, I say that every Christmas in honor of you.

11/01/11: Parents

As I told a friend (more on that later), my Facebook status has served as an outline for my blog.  I didn't intend for it to serve that purpose; I just came up with that excuse when said friend (more on that later) called me on needing to blog it and then called me on my crap excuse of using FB as an outline.  So, to keep my word, here it is...the blog posts I was reminded to write (more on that later).

"Nov. 1: Thankful for my parents and the start they gave me in life."  Facebook status and outline point #1.

I had fabulous parents.  I can never be the person who goes to therapy and tries to convince myself and my therapist that my current woes as an adult were because of my crappy childhood.  I tried that once.  It didn't work.  My parents truly were amazing.  Perfect?  Not at all, and they would be the first to admit it.  Did they make mistakes?  You bet, and they would be the first to admit it.  Was my childhood forever scarred by their mistakes, ruining every chance that I could be a responsible and successful adult?  Hello????  I am who I am and content with who I am largely because of my parents and what they did right and because of the mistakes they made.

My parents waited 10 years before I came along.  Believing she couldn't have children (because they had been trying without success to become pregnant for years), mom went to the doctor with what she thought was a virus she caught at work, only her coworkers had gotten well and she hadn't.  Yep, I was the virus.  I still think it hilarious that I was making her sick before she ever knew about me!  While my mom was in the office finding out that she would have this virus for years and years and that this virus was going to cost a lot of time and money, dad was in the cafeteria of the doctor's building getting a job transfer, promotion, and raise because they just happened to run into my mom's boss who had had the same virus everyone else had (not my mom's virus).  Yep, before they even knew I existed, I was making my mom sick and giving my dad a false sense of increased wealth.  SURPRISE!!!  Always the prankster...

As I mentioned, my parents had been married 10 years before I came along.  They both were in their 30s, and they knew they would not have any other children.  They had every reason to create an insufferable, entitled, selfish, spoiled brat.  Wait...they did (pregnant pause for contradiction...).  Seriously, they could have ruined me under the guise of loving me, but they used wisdom and discernment to guide their parenting, and they loved me enough but not "too much."  (Good parenting book by the way: "Parents Who Love Too Much.")  They both would have rescued me from difficulties in a proverbial heartbeat, but they allowed me to struggle and find my own way, to have my own successes and failures.  They could have babied me and kept me dependent on them, but they encouraged me to grow and be responsible and accountable.  Did they help me?  Of course they did!  I was their only child!  They provided for my every need and most of my wants.  They sacrificed for me.  They loved me with incomprehensible love.  

My parents taught me from an early age about freedom and responsibility.  I never had a curfew because they trusted me, and I didn't want to betray that trust because it was precious to me.  I never was grounded because mom said that would be punishing her more than me!  I was disciplined, sometimes by the switch from a peach tree that once grew in our yard but had to be cut down probably because it was nothing more than a trunk due to all the fruit-bearing branches being "pruned" so I could be pruned as well.  Sometimes that discipline was via lecture.  However, most of the time, that discipline was in allowing me to experience consequences, even ones they could foresee, so that I would learn the responsibility of decision and action.  My dad taught me how to think critically by asking me what options I had and what the possible pros and cons of each would be, then simply saying, "Choose."  My mom taught me how to love unconditionally.  Together, they were a great team, teaching me how to love with my whole being but to be smart about it.  

Sadly, my dad no longer is with me in body, but he definitely is with me in spirit.  I have great memories which become even sweeter when someone shares them with me.  He never met his grandson, which will always sadden me, but oh how proud he would have been!  

I am blessed to still have my mom.  She is relatively healthy and very sharp.  She loves me with a love I now can comprehend because I, too, am a mom.  I often say she has so much mothering in her that I gladly share her with others, and even though many view her as a mom, I am the only person on the planet fortunate enough to call her mom.  That is quite an honor for me.  I know that from a very young age I was not the daughter she had anticipated, but I know she believes I am the daughter she needed.  I have a magnet that reads, "I dress this way to mortify my mother" and even though it is unintentional, I know I do...mortify her, that is.  I loathe shopping.  I'm not big on jewelry.  We really are quite different types of women, but we are the same when it comes to loving our friends and family, especially each other.  And even though I try her patience and she tries mine, when all is said and done, never a single doubt remains about our relationship.  She is, after all, my mom.

If I can be the type of parent that my parents were, perhaps one day I will see my son being a wonderful dad to his children, knowing that the legacy that was passed was a wealthy one.  That will be the greatest honor of all, not just to me, but to my parents as well.

I'm Back...

Yes, I'm back, but not in an "Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator I've come to destroy --no wait!--save the world" sort of way; rather in an "I know I could have done better and not put it off" kind of way.  Yes, that is my hat in my hand.  I'm not going to write any more about why I am back because that would be ruining one of my posts.  Suffice it to say, the month of November and the focusing of my mind on the blessings for which I truly am thankful brought my blog out of the dark corner in the back of my mind where it would peep out every now and then but could easily be overlooked or relegated to the vague time slot of "another time when I have more time" to the forefront of my mind where it was lit with a metaphorical neon "You have time NOW" sign.


So...ummm...yeah...

Sharp as a Knife's Edge

The Songahm Taekwondo World Championships were in Little Rock this past week.  We inaugurated a new Grand Master, GM In Ho Lee, and witnessed our former Grand Master become Grand Master Emeritus Soon Ho Lee.  What a show it was!  The pageantry and tradition was a site to behold.  Given that this was a momentous event, record numbers were in attendance.  In the Pro Shop, I saw the t-shirts from a school somewhere in the U.S.  It was black with neon green writing, and on the back was the scripture, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another" (Proverbs 27:17).  Just how does one person sharpen another?  This got me to thinking (a very dangerous past time, indeed).


My first thought was remembering watching my dad and, later, my husband sharpen a knife with a wet stone. I found a website on how to sharpen an iron chisel with a wet stone and was struck by the metaphor.  Basically, it takes five steps.  First, you must fix the stone securely so it won't slip while sharpening.  As you can imagine, bad things happen if your stone is not sure.  Second, the stone needs to be lubricated (hence the word "wet") with oil or water.  A wet stone is rather dry without water.  Third, place the chisel to be sharpened into the honing guide, tightened so it will stay but loose enough to be adjusted.  Fourth, slide the chisel back and forth over the stone, keeping the chisel in constant contact with the stone.  Fifth, clean off the burr by turning it over and starting again.  Repeat all five steps as necessary to achieve the desired edge.  


Basically, what sharpens iron is friction.  The stone is wet to keep it from over heating, but friction is what does the trick.  Oh how I've had people in my life who have sharpened me, and they can testify to the friction it takes, especially when this iron chisel is dull and stubborn!  I thought about those people who have sharpened me and the role they have played in the process.


I have solid friends, people whose character is steadfast, whose devotion is unwavering.  I also have come into contact with people who are "stone cold" and with whom I am not friends.  In both cases, in relating to another, our boundaries as individuals must make contact. When we are heading in the same direction, we glide like glass.  However, when our boundaries are not exactly parallel, we get an angel or an edge to them, and friction begins.  We can try and soothe things with understanding, encouragement, communication, empathy, and all that good stuff that a shrink like me is bound to say, but it doesn't matter how sweet the salve, friction remains. I have some friends who hold up to me a firm reality check, even if I do not agree with the reality they are presenting.  I have been chipped by some people, badly but never broken, and I have had others who come along and patiently begin to smooth away the chips and the burrs.  Slowly and painstakingly, they have remained by my side until my edge returns and I am useful once more.


These are the friends I cherish, the ones who disagree, sometimes vehemently, but they are steadfast.  Even when others have misused me and taken whacks that have left me in bad shape, these friends come along side, challenging and confronting me, making me take critical looks at myself to see the damage that has been done.  They hold me loosely, allowing me to adjust.  They guide me while I get a healthier perspective, a corrective angle.  Then they gently but firmly edify me, not with feel good strokes but with with words and actions that bring about real healing.  Some even bring about a real polish and shine, staying with me long enough for me to be better than I was before.

The Post With No Name

I had someone comment to me privately after one of my blog entries, "So when are you going to write about yourself instead of all this god talk?" My response was, "How are you so sure all of this God talk isn't me?" I write what's on my mind, and God is on my mind a lot and certainly not in a Sunday School teacher/Ladies Bible Study kind of way. I struggle with faith. I question God. I wait for answers. Sometimes I get them, sometimes I keep on waiting. I reject most "religious traditions" because I find them automatic rather than authentic. I grow weary of dogma presented as doctrine. I used to become angry with people who are at every church service, putting on piety with their Sunday dresses and suits, judging others who do not do the same. Now, I pity them. I yearn to interact with people who are genuinely and authentically pursuing a relationship with God, who are real with their flaws and imperfections and not merely confident in doing what they have been told to by others. I claw my way out of ruts of religious rules and seek alternate paths. I read. I think. I meditate. I whip out my Zen Christianity and risk being looked at like I just sprung a unicorn horn and wings at best.


Yet in the midst of my uncertainties, God makes His presence known to me in the way I can best understand and believe. I get asked, "Just who exactly is Jesus?" and I talk about the cross with a passion that defies my doubt, even when I'm in the midst of confessing it! I see people weep at the realization that Jesus IS God's love and embrace Him with a hunger and thirst for a relationship with a Savior whom they just met, and I see lives transformed because of that relationship. I marvel at how their faith seems so much stronger than my own, even while knowing that it's not their faith or my faith but God's faith imparted to us both. I realize I have become the very people with whom I once became angry, and I pity myself for taking for granted the most precious and life-changing gift I ever have been given. I walk around consumed with plans, contingencies, and ruminations, all the while knowing I could simply be still and know that He is God.


I realize just how happy I am that I am not the Holy Spirit, so I don't have to convict anyone. The Trinity has no vacancy that I need to fill! What freedom and empowerment! All I have to do is tell my story, not just the good parts but all of it (well, at least most of it), and trust that God will take it from there. I don't have to convince anyone; I simply have to admit that I struggle with being convinced, too. I don't have to hear anyone's decision; I simply have to acknowledge my own difficulty with making one daily. I don't have to point anyone anywhere; I just have to get out of the way. I don't have to defend God; I just have to love and be loved by Him...even when I wonder if He and His love are real. My questions do not change His love for me...they enhance it because I am being as genuine as I can be...for now...

History in the Making

Almost 10 years ago on September 11, 2001, we Americans and the much of the world watched in horror as two airplanes brought down the twin towers, one changed the shape of the Pentagon, and one went down in a field as free American civilians became the first soldiers to die in the war on terror.  President Bush demonstrated great restraint when he did not react.  While the world was urging us to turn the Middle East into a parking lot, Bush took care of home first, but the war on terror had begun.  In his wisdom, he did not kill millions of innocent people in an angry reaction yet miss the one who had orchestrated the attack.

Now, on May 1, 2011, President Obama demonstrated the same restraint when he said nothing when he signed the order to act, to send Navy Seals into a compound to eliminate Bin Laden mano a mano.  In his wisdom, he did not kill millions of innocent people.  He sent them to kill one man.  Three other people were killed, two men and a woman that one of the men used as a human shield.  No Americans were killed.  We won a war in approximately 40 minutes that began 10 years ago.

Our country has changed leaders during the past 10 years.  Two men.  Two philosophies.  Two different places in the war, one at the beginning and one at the end.  However, our country has had one constant...Jehovah God!  

"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land" 2 Chronicles 7:14.  He has healed our land.  Have we called on His name? Have we prayed?  Have we sought His face?  Have we humbled ourselves?  Have we turned from our wicked ways?  I haven't.  We as individuals may not be deemed as having fulfilled our part of the condition, but Praise God, through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, we have been REdeemed, and God has healed our land and our collective experience of oppression through grief, hopelessness, and helplessness.  

"No longer will they teach their neighbor, 

   or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’
because they will all know me,
   from the least of them to the greatest.
 For I will forgive their wickedness
   and will remember their sins no more" (Hebrews 8:11-12)

I have NO DOUBT that Jehovah God has made Himself known to all, and I thank Him that He keeps His promises when I do not.  President Obama, his advisors, and the men who carried out the orders deserve so much credit, respect, and gratitude.  Let us not forget to thank our God who never was surprised, never was caught off guard, never was searching for Bin Laden.  My God knew.  My God acted.  Why now?  Why did so many have to die?  Why did it take 10 years?  I have no idea! I'm just grateful that He did.

The war was not with Islam; the war was and is with sin.  Jesus is the only One who ever won that war, and through Him, we can dance victoriously in the streets of our country tonight just as we will dance victoriously in the streets of gold.

Lessons from Rev. Tom Kurai

On Good Friday, I was fortunate to be introduced to Taiko by one of the masters, Rev. Tom Kurai.  Taiko is Japanese drumming.  Think "Beijing Olympics" and you get the picture.  He wrote soundtracks for movies such as "The Last Samurai" and "Memoirs of a Geisha" as well as music ranging from video games to parts of rock music.  Rev. Tom Kurai founded the Taiko Center in Las Angeles and is the head abbot of the Sozenji Buddhist Temple in Montebello, CA.  Taiko involves so much more than having rhythm.  From the way you stand to the way you hold the bachi (or "sticks" to us Americans), taiko involves the whole person--body, mind, and soul.  

As I listened to Rev. Tom play the taiko and then was able to play myself, I understood the physics principle that energy can neither be created nor destroyed.  As the energy flowed from deep within, through my arms, through the bachi, through the drum, returning to my body as vibrations of sound to my ears and movement to my hands, I got it.  I really got it.  If given the chance, I could have played those drums for hours.  I would have exhausted myself, but I would have played until I absolutely could not lift a finger.  It was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.

As I reflected on this experience throughout Easter weekend, I began to comprehend on an even deeper level what Jesus meant when asked what the greatest commandment was.   "Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together.  One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: 'Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?' Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment'" (Matthew 22:34-38).  Loving God fully is a whole body experience, with ALL my heart, ALL my soul, ALL my mind.  

I can do the mind thing.  I think all the time.  You could call me a Zen Christian!  Sure I read the Bible and know scripture, but I always have been drawn to verses such as Psalm 49:3 "My mouth shall speak of wisdom; and the meditation of my heart shall be of understanding" and Proverbs 4:7 "Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom; but with all thy getting, get understanding," and Psalm 19:14  "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer." I got it Friday.  I experienced it.  I meditated upon it.  I understood it.

Easter Sunday morning, as I worshiped as part of the Geyer Springs First Baptist Church Celebration Choir, I remembered my experience with Rev. Tom and taiko.  I felt the energy as it flowed from my soul, through my lungs into song. I envisioned it ascending to the throne of God, presented as a gift of gratitude to my Savior, Jesus Christ, and having it returned to me in the form of hope, love, mercy, and grace.  Talk about worship!

Rivers

I spent Monday evening by the river, Arkansas not Ouachita.  Even though I was in the middle of the city with traffic everywhere, I felt such peace.  I always feel peaceful at a river.  I realized I love rivers more than lakes or oceans.  Rivers are more contained than an ocean.  I can look from one bank to another.  I can see the boundaries of the river.  That is comforting to me.  However, rivers are not as confined as lakes.  Rivers flow, rather than being enclosed by dams or mountains.  Whether in a canoe or on a yacht, travel is possible on a river.  I feel neither stuck nor overwhelmed.  I have a choice to sit and watch it flow by or use it as a means of adventure. 

However, I realized last night that rivers touch me in a deeper, more spiritual way.  One of my favorite passages in Joshua 3:1-4: 
¹ Then Joshua rose early in the morning; and they set out from Acacia Grove and came to the Jordan, he and all the children of Israel, and lodged there before they crossed over. ² So it was, after three days, that the officers went through the camp; ³ and they commanded the people, saying, “When you see the ark of the covenant of the LORD your God, and the priests, the Levites, bearing it, then you shall set out from your place and go after it. ⁴ Yet there shall be a space between you and it, about two thousand cubits by measure. Do not come near it, that you may know the way by which you must go, for you have not passed this way before.” (KJV) 

This passage has been such a comfort to me at different times in my life.  When I felt God moving in my life, all I had to do was keep a reverential distance but stay close enough to see His leading because I may not have traveled this way before, but He has.  He knows what I have been through, and He knows what lies ahead. 

And where exactly were the children of Israel in that passage in Joshua?  They were about to cross the Jordan River into the land God had promised them.  They literally were at the point of claiming God's promise; all they had to do was follow. That is easier said than done.  Even with God's promise within reach, acting can be quite anxiety provoking.  After all, it's change, and change is stressful.  They were about to cross the Jordan River and enter the promised land and  God was leading the way not just as a guide but as an advanced guard.  Joshua 3: 7-13:
⁷ And the LORD said to Joshua, “Today I will begin to exalt you in the eyes of all Israel, so they may know that I am with you as I was with Moses. ⁸ Tell the priests who carry the ark of the covenant: ‘When you reach the edge of the Jordan’s waters, go and stand in the river.’”
 ⁹ Joshua said to the Israelites, “Come here and listen to the words of the LORD your God. ¹⁰ This is how you will know that the living God is among you and that he will certainly drive out before you the Canaanites, Hittites, Hivites, Perizzites, Girgashites, Amorites and Jebusites. ¹¹ See, the ark of the covenant of the Lord of all the earth will go into the Jordan ahead of you. ¹² Now then, choose twelve men from the tribes of Israel, one from each tribe. ¹³ And as soon as the priests who carry the ark of the LORD—the Lord of all the earth—set foot in the Jordan, its waters flowing downstream will be cut off and stand up in a heap.”

As with the Israelites, God knows what is awaiting me.  And, just as the Israelites, I have my battles to fight, some within myself, some with others, but God leads the way.  God knows the battlefield and enemy better than I, even when that enemy is myself.  When He leads the way, I can choose to pass through the river, or I can choose to stay behind in my old way and not claim tha promise He has waiting for me.  When I choose to pass through the river, sometimes I pass through on dry land, with no problems, because God is standing in the way, holding back all that will flood me, just as He did for the Israelites.  During those times, I may never know from what all I am being protected because He is shielding me.  "And as soon as the priests who carry the ark of the LORD—the Lord of all the earth—set foot in the Jordan, its waters flowing downstream will be cut off and stand up in a heap" (Joshua 3:15).  I have no idea what all troubles stand in a heap because He stood in the way. 

However, sometimes I pass through the river and get wet, all wet, the head to toe soaked to the bone kind of wet that leaves no doubt to myself or anyone who sees me that I'm  completely saturated.  Sometimes, this passing through the river is voluntary; sometimes it is not.  Voluntary or not, it is necessary.

Naaman was a powerful leader of the powerful army of Aram.  He was well respected by his leaders and by the people whom he led.  But no matter how powerful and respected he was, he had leprosy (2 Kings 5: 1).  A young girl from Israel had been taken captive and served Naaman's wife.  She said she wished her master could go see the prophet in Israel because she knew he could cure Naaman of his leprosy.  The king of Aram sent word to the king of Israel that Naaman would be arriving.  The king of Israel was very upset, thinking that he was being set up because he knew he could not cure leprosy.  Elisha, however, instructed the king to send Naaman to him.

When Naaman arrived, Elisah sent word via a messenger to “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed" (2 Kings 5: 10).  This did not set too well with Naaman.  First, Naaman was a bit put out that Elisha did not speak with him directly.  After all, he was an important man.  How dare Elisha simply send a messenger!  Second, Naaman was looking for something a bit more flashy.  "But Naaman went away angry and said, “I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy" (2 Kings 5: 11).  He was expecting God to work in an obviously spectacular way.  Third, the Jordan isn't exactly the cleanest of rivers.  Naaman said, " 'Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be cleansed?' So he turned and went off in a rage" (2 Kings 5: 12).   

For Naaman, his pride almost cost him his healing from leprosy.  "Naaman’s servants went to him and said, 'My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, ‘Wash and be cleansed!'  So he went down and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy" (2 Kings 5: 13-14).  However, Naaman not only received healing from his leprosy, he received faith in Jehova God.  ^"Then Naaman and all his attendants went back to the man of God. He stood before him and said, 'Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel'" (2 Kings 5:15).

How many times have I been like Naaman!  I come to God with a dire need and I expect God to work or lead in a certain way, and when He doesn't, I doubt and get angry.  I don't like what may be required of me for my need to be met.  I want it done the way I want it and when I want it.  Basically, pride gets in my way and I risk missing the amazing blessing God has in store for me, and I risk missing the affirmation that God is God, the great "I AM," and the relief of knowing that "I am NOT."  My pride and stubborness keeps me from seeing the awesomeness of God.  However, when I yield to what I did not want or expect, sometimes after gentle edification from friends, I am at peace.  It may take a while, but I eventually get there.

Then there are times in my life when I voluntarily enter the river as a testimony to Whose I am.  My first entry into the river was baptism, my first public act of service and declaration of my faith in Christ.  Since then, other times I've voluntarily stepped into the river have been leaps of faith, even when that leap was to be still and know that He is God. 

Finally, I think it is beyond coincidence that the Jordan River plays such a significant role.  Ragardless of whether it was the place of healing as with Naaman or the place of promise as with the Israelites, the Jordan is important.  It's not just any old river; it is the river in which Christ was baptized.  Both healing and promise were found in the river because it is a symbol of the source of true healing and promise, Christ.

From now on, my river experiences never will be the same.  Whether watching peacfully from the bank, taking a refreshing swim, floating lazily in a canoe, or turning over in a canoe (which does happen with regularity), this metaphor will be with me as a reminder that this life is but a mere reflection of the deeper, more meaningful spiritual life.  After an encounter with Christ, I am never the same...