Incompatibilities.... and some late night reading.

I knew that he would be coming this fall.  He always does.  My husband and I had an honest talk one day which resulted in me as kindly as possible putting my foot down and refusing that he will ever stay with us.  We used to host him.  As local team leaders, we always hosted the bigger team leader.  I eventually realized that I am under no obligation to do so and that it was not healthy for me.  Instead, I chose my favorites of those coming to host.

But he was coming.  The events of this spring were doubly hard because of the actions of this man, and his reactions to the crisis resulted in us being thrown to the sharks when we were wounded rather than receiving help.  So I knew that facing him this fall was going to be extremely hard. 

I am not a pretender. I detest having to pretend. It is just not me. I am also rarely rude.  I am usually very nice to this person - extremely nice. Why? Because that is who I am - not because he has earned it, but because I chose not to let him dictate to me who I will be.  I refuse to be something I am not just because this person habitually hurts me. But it costs me something.  It is difficult.

That was when I picked up this book, "Born for Battle" by Arthur Matthews. It's a good book, very good.

One night, I took the book to bed, thinking I would reread the first chapter and think through it again. All day, a phrase had been repeating in my head. "Discipline accepted, discipline rejected". I had remembered hearing that phrase a long time go, but could not remember where. As I thumbed through the book in bed, I was really surprised to see the phrase in it. Really?  It was a chapter title.

Ok... there ought to be a point when I just give in and look suspiciously up at God and bluntly ask, "what are You up to?!" Instead, I just flipped to that chapter to see what it said.

I had read this book back in Bible school with my room-mate.  Every night we had read a chapter, discussed it and prayed together.  I saw that parts of this chapter was carefully underlined in pencil.  I guess back then, that section had spoke to us. Not as much as it spoke to me now, twenty years later...

If we want to be used of God year after year in the place of His appointment, then let us welcome the incompatibilities that toughen spiritual temper and at the same time drive us to the resources of the Life that was laid down for us.


I sat staring at the page very quietly. This was the quiet night before the team was all to arrive the next day.

Then I reluctantly flipped back towards the beginning of the chapter. It talked  about Jesus being able to finish His work because He daily accepted discipline.  It talked about not just His death at the end of his life, but His daily accepting to continue without sin and not give in to selfishness.  The dying to Himself.

"To have relinquished this dying at any point in favor of some escape scheme would have forfeited for Him the right to claim Mission Accomplished."

hmpf.  It did not quit there...  

"The one who will go through to the end with steady pace is the one who accepts the daily discipline of dying, choosing to renounce and repudiate the competitive voice of self. This is what God seeks from those who serve Him."

hmpf.  I kept reading.... a little annoyed, but very, very quiet.. why does He have to be talking about this right now, right now when this man is coming and I can't stand him because he has done wrong which has hurt me?

"...God sends discipline into our lives. It is here that things seem altogether awry. Why does God have to mediate His disciplines through the clumsy and unsympathetic hands of those we dislike and despise and whose authority we resent? We need discipline, granted - but why cannot it be delivered through acceptable channels?"

ugh. Ok. There are times there is not much you can say in answer.... other than, I am wrong.  I am seeing this as an "all his problem" type of thing... and it is not to say that he is without fault.... but I am looking at it skewed.  I can also look at it as these are the circumstances that God has chosen to put me into.

I have been struggling with God about why He allows this hurt... and can't get past the basic fact that everything that people do that affects me, God knows about it. He could stop it, and He doesn't. And that brings me back to the basic fact that I have to trust God, even when He allows things that I don't like. I had even blogged about Andrew Murray's four stones: .. "in time of trouble, I can say I am here by God's appointment, in His keeping, for His purposes, for His time"....

...now this....

Straight in my face...even clumsy, despised leader.... even that...

I chose to accept God's sovereignty and acknowledge that in allowing me to go through this, He allowed it for my good, and has purpose in it... Even in this.

Ugh. I did not really like where this late night conversation with God was leading because it led me flat out to a place where I had to accept what hurt me and to continue to live honorably before God accepting both that He put this man in leadership over us with all his faults and He allowed him to act like this in this time....

which then leads me pretty quickly to the place where I have to say that I am wrong - my attitude and my feelings and thoughts towards him are wrong.

Which I knew.

There is a small part of me that protested and says that wrong is still wrong. That struggling with the balance of defending myself and not... But when I view it from the angle that God is fully in charge and is allowing this for good in my life, it is different.  It is different than not defending yourself because you don't think you are worth it. It is not defending yourself because you know you are worth the intimate and detailed care of God... that what He is allowing is purposed for good, for discipline, for my good. It is the difference between saying "I don't deserve better" and saying "I know I can trust because You deeply care". So the protest is small because I know I am wrong, and two wrongs don't make something right.

hmpf.

Because in the end, the only behavior I am responsible for is my own. And I am responsible for my own behavior.

Incompatibilities..... Is there any answer?

If you've been around reading my blog for awhile, then it is no secret that I struggle to get along with some people in our team.  One person, mostly.  In fact, I wonder at times if God derives some odd delight in putting incompatible people together on teams?  (Just kidding..!)

It has made life difficult.  It would be difficult in the best of situations, but in times of trouble, it becomes more difficult.

It's been difficult as we struggled through troubles in our marriage.

It's been difficult as we've struggled through relocations and threats of relocations.

It's been difficult as we faced a crisis in our work involving our family.

I wrestle with my attitude and knowing how to respond at times.  I do believe this person loves God and has a heart to do right.  It seems, though, that he lacks some skills or an ability to see, perhaps intuition.  I think the only thing worse than people who have problems seeing is people who have problems seeing who think they don't.

I lived once in a place where horse carts were a common means of transportation.  To prevent the horses from spooking in the busy city traffic, they wore blinders on the sides of their eyes.  This allowed them very good vision in the direction they were going, but a total lack of peripheral vision.

This person is a lot like that.  What he is good at and what he sees, he does with the utmost attention to detail and insight.  It is just where he does not see that he is clumsy.

I live in this man's peripheral vision - not in the direction he is going, but attached, along the side of.  As a result, I get banged around and stepped on often enough.


It doesn't really matter how much a horse intended or didn't intend to step on your foot - it still hurts.  Intended or not, the pain that has been caused is very real.  And it has gone on for years, over and over and over.

There have been some things that were careless.  There have been some things that were insensitive.  Those are difficult, but perhaps if it had stopped there, I would be managing.  But there have been some things that are incomprehensible.  Things said about me that have attacked publicly my character, sanity, and honesty.  Those are the most hurtful.

I've cried this through often enough with God, asking for a solution, a resolution, a transfer from out from under this person, but God has been silent.  I really do seek to live at peace, to go on despite it, to show love, to serve, and for the most part, I do well enough... but it is my heart that is harder to manage.  The hurt.  The pain.  The constantness of it.  The resentment.  The very fact that these wrongs go on, year after year, unsettled, open, wounds.

How do you offer forgiveness that is never asked for?  Even harder, when what was done and said is justified?  When the public accusation of my character remains without retraction, even though time has proved that it was wrong?  I don't really have the answers to these questions.

It has been a topic that I bring up again and again with God.  Asking for answers here.  Wrestling with the issues of obedience, respect, love, unity, hurt, boundaries, honor, grace, and forgiveness.

Just when I think I've got it settled, he comes by again.  (I guess I can be thankful that he does not live here with our smaller team, but only visits several times a year.)  Then out pours the emotions again.  And I am back to looking up desperately to the God that placed this man in our lives over us and asking for strength, wisdom, and grace.  And quietly, quietly begging my Father to come to my defense, to lift my head, to be my glory in all that has been hurled against me.  Asking for strength to again show love and service.  For comfort for the tears in the night, the pain of arrow wounds from my own side.

This fall, he came by again...  and God had some new lessons for me to learn.

What Do You DO?

Do you ever cringe when people ask you that question?  As a missionary mom?

What do we do?  I still believe my primary responsibility is to be a mom.  Of course, I do other things, too.

But people want a nice packaged answer.

I have one for my husband.  He has a defined job.  I can say, "He does......... "

But what do I do?  Well... I am tempted to say "I am a filler of holes."  That is what I do.  My daily tasks may be very different, but basically, I fill holes.  Where someone is missing, I fill in.  Where something lacks, I fill in.

If I sit down and list all the things I do, people's eyes widen and they say, "Wow, you are a busy woman!"  But I am not - well, not that much.  Not continually.  I just have a wide variety of very part time duties.

Today, for example...

I am a wife and a mom.  I got four kids and one husband off to work and school.

I am a cleaning lady.  I stopped at the school and helped clean out some shelves in the kitchen, and noticed the little oven desperately needed cleaning.  I guess the cleaning staff over look that... so I cleaned an oven.

I am a secretary.  I organized letters and filed away ones to respond to.  Desperately need to get a new prayer letter out.

I am a cook.  I planned supper and pulled out what I need to cook.  Trying to plan a menu and try some new foods recently.  (Of all the things I miss most about being "over there", it is having someone to do most of this job for me.  I am a good enough cook, but it is just not the job I love on a daily basis.)

I am a dictionary.  I answered two phone calls on how to spell words.... as the only native English speaker on our team, I get the job of being the resident dictionary, grammar textbook, and even at times, concordance....  I got woken up groggily after working a night shift once to be asked "When was Moses with seventy elders on  mountain?"  Huh?  Pop quiz time?

I do construction.  Our basement leak is finally fixed, so it was time to plaster the seams in the repaired wall.  I pulled out the tools and set to work.

I am a teacher.  I am about to head off to teach math.  I love teaching kids.

I am a demolition expert.  :)  Today, we need to head over to a friend's house to destroy some very old, huge piece of furniture that can not be moved out without being at least taken apart.

That is today.  Tomorrow, I may be something else.  Where there is a job with no one to do it, that is where I get put.  Like plaster - I am a filler of holes.  Which is just perfect for my slightly ADD personality.  I think God knew slapping me in one role would frustrate me.

How about you?  What do you do?

No Greater Joy...

I was thinking of this verse today as I was teaching math...

Now, I know it wasn't exactly meant for this situation, but still. "I have no greater joy than to hear of my children walking in the truth." (3 John 1:4) This year, I have a graphic example of that verse almost daily, and it brings a smile to my face.

I've been faithfully teaching Kayla for almost three years now. Day after day we slogged through math. Day after day through the same basics, over and over. Trying to simplify math...

"Kayla, there are only four ways to solve a problem - you can add, subtract, multiply, or divide. All you need to do is figure out which one."

"So, are you talking about parts and wholes here or about groups? Every question will talk about one of those two. Start there: Parts and wholes? Or groups?"

Over and over the basics we went. She made progress, but it was slow and tedious. We learned fractions, measurements, and geometry also, but still slogged daily through the basics.

Then came this year. This year, we did some review without a calculator in the beginning. (We had decided last year that if she was competent to figure out WHAT she was supposed to be doing with a word problem, we had no problem with her using the calculator to get the right answer. More important was her understanding how you found the answer - not the actual calculation with paper and pencil.)

But this year, I decided we would do the basic review without a calculator. She should learn how to do simple multiplication and division without a calculator. I grit my teeth and settled down for a very long and tedious week going over the basics yet again. And I gave her a problem like this:

345
x24

Then set about it. She multiplied the four times the 345 without difficulty, and then began on the 2, but I stopped her and asked, "What do you have to do first?" She paused and said, "Oh wait! I think I know! Don't tell me, don't tell me!... umm.... um... OH! I have to add a zero first!"

I was amazed, and said, "Yes! Do you know why?" Then my mouth fell open in shock even more when she said, "Oh, oh, because I am multiplying by 20 and not by 2, so it is a tens place!" You could have almost picked me up off the floor when the next question I gave her was multiplying 532 x 285 and she said when she got to multiplying the 2, "Ok, now I have to add two zeros since I am multiplying by a hundred."

You seriously could have scraped me off the floor with a spatula at that point! If you knew how many times we went over these basic ideas with no comprehension for two years, and then she waltzes in at the beginning of this year and just says, "Oh! Oh! I think I know!"

We went on to long division - which she hated, like all kids, but she managed. Now we are finding the greatest common factor and simplifying fractions before multiplying them together, and she is going on. When I began teaching her two and a half years ago, she was at least three years behind. Now she is neck and neck with her sister who is one year behind her, and I would almost say she is catching on faster than her sister.

I stand back in awe. And I come away smiling, tears of joy in my eyes. She is doing well! After all that work, she is doing well! (I don't claim the credit for it, no more than just for sticking to it - I think this year her brain has begun to grow and she is more capable than she ever was. I saw that in my oldest and his spelling ability at that age.) So I am full of hope for her. And joy. It is a delight to watch her work.

And every day, when I walk away from teaching with a great sense of joy, I think of this verse... "I have no greater joy than to hear of my children walking in the truth."

Imagine if God thinks this way of us. Instead of looking at us and thinking, "How many times have I told you that, and you are just beginning to get it! What is wrong with you?!" He thinks, "I am delighted. It was worth it all."

In all honesty, Kayla is still behind. Realistically, she should never become a math scholar. There are days her mind still goes blank and we are back at asking, "Is it talking about parts and wholes or groups?" But she IS learning, and she IS getting it. And that thrills me.

Maybe God is so thrilled with me. Even when I am slow.

I have no greater joy than to hear of my children walking in the truth.

If Only....

Number Three was watching an ad on the computer with me before a show. The ad was for So You Think You Can Dance.

His comment?

"I think that would be a nice show to watch if only the people would dress appropriately."

Yeah... well...

Number Two was driving home from school with me, and I hadn't eaten all day, so my tummy was grumbling very, very loudly.

His comment?

"You could probably call dolphins with that noise."

Yeah... thanks...

Little Curls and Tears

I woke up the other morning to pounding on my door. It was a friend. To be honest, she had told me she would bring them by, but I had forgotten, and we don't usually wake that early.

I know these kids of my friend's. We watch them every now and then. I don't know what is going on in my friend's life. I know that she and her husband are separated. Why, I don't know exactly. I've heard rumors. I've heard accusations hurled at her by the husband. I've even heard some of the official word that the church is putting out. But I haven't heard from her.

So I withhold judgment. I've seen what rumors are like. I've experienced what accusations can be hurled. I've even known how a church can evaluate a situation.

So I wait. I grabbed her one day last spring when our life was still too involved in recovering from trauma to be able to be there for her, but I grabbed her, looked in her eyes, and said, "Hey, I want you to know that I have heard things going around, but I am not going to believe anything about you until I hear it from you."

She looked up quickly then, her eyes filling with tears, and whispered a quick "thank-you'. My goal is to be there for her. She doesn't yet share, but she knows I am there for her, ready to listen if she wants, but not demanding it.

That morning's knock brought three little kids to my door. I let them in and settled them down with blankets in front of a video. It was a special day at school that day, so I wanted to get up in about an hour so I had time to do my daughter's hair. I wanted to do it up in a pile of curls on the top of her head. She would look gorgeous.

An hour later, I stood at a table with seven heads bent over their breakfasts and mentally evaluated what my daughter's hair would require. My gaze scanned the other heads and paused.

Two other little girls sat at my table, their beautiful hair in rat's nests. I, like others, have grown used to them like this. Unkempt, uncared for. The mother too run down herself to put effort into beauty for the girls. The father unable and unseeing of the damage he does. The grandmother's eyes fill quickly with tears as she sees her grandchildren.

I sighed. I guess I could settle for a nicely brushed out hair and a little bow for my daughter. So I called the girls up.

Their eyes danced with the thought of being beautiful for the special day. Their grandparents would be coming, and they could look beautiful. It took about half an hour of combing and detangling, but we got the hair glistening. I asked each one if thy wanted braids, pony tails, or curls. Their eyes lit up and they whispered "Can I have curls?" So I put half their hair on the top of their head, curled that portion into ringlets that cascaded down over their smoothly brushed hair, and put a bow on each.

Then I quickly pulled my daughter's hair to the side and put a bow in it, too.

We were a little late to school, but they looked lovely.

That afternoon at the program, I was rewarded with happy tears in their grandma's eyes when she saw them. They no longer looked like the unkempt kids in the middle of a divorce, but like loved and cherished girls made beautiful for this day. They looked up and smiled, knowing they were done up like princesses.

It was worth it. My daughter did not look as drop dead gorgeous like she could have if I spent half an hour on her hair, but she looked fine. True beauty comes from the joy you give others, not shining above those around you.

It was worth it, even when after the program, I stopped in the class that was filled with grandparents, aunts, and uncles oohing and aahing over student's work, and my son was sitting bent over his desk with hot tears running down his face. "How come I never have grandparents here on this day? I don't have any family that ever comes!" There was nothing to say. My daughter had made a special card for the substitute family that had come to her performance, but they had left early and had not stayed to go into her class, so she sat there with her special thank-you card and no one to give it to. Tears poured down her face, too.

We packed up early and headed home. It was a good night for popcorn, a movie, and doing nothing as a family together.

Little curls, little tears, little hearts that suffer for adult's decisions, and little minds that try to wrap around big questions.

Something About Me

I'm learning things about myself and how that affects what I do.

I am a fiercely loyal person. Intensely loyal.

To the point that if someone criticizes someone I love, even if the criticism is valid, even if it is needed, I struggle not to go into attack mode.

We had to have some honest discussions tonight about some people in some situations, and it was hard for me to objectively evaluate people's performance and abilities because some of those people are people high up on my list of people I love and would defend.

I suppose it is useful information to know about myself - if only to be able to stop myself from the fierceness of a tiger defending her own. Back down... it is only a performance evaluation....!

I guess you can relax if I love you - you can be sure I won't be listening to comments about you behind your back!

Quick Question

I am speaking in a few days, and working on that, I wonder something...

What are the biggest issues women in your area of the world face?

I asked that question of many people when I traveled this past spring and was interested in the answers. But now I wonder about other areas of the world. What are the biggest issues where you live? Be as brief or as long as you want... but would you answer that? Even if you live in the US, go ahead and answer.

I have to speak on the topic of women's needs around the world, and while I think I have some ideas, I'd love to hear from you.

Ministry Around Us

I'm seeing something interesting happening over the last year or two. Now that life inside our home is more stable and peaceful (and wonderful!), new things are happening outside.

I live here, minister to over there, and my home church is back there. Yeah, confusing. So while we live here, most of our ministry is not happening here. Yet we live here. Daily rubbing shoulders with and involved in the lives of people here. Of course, our lives would mostly consist of church, school (which is highly multicultural!), and the office. The only exception is my work. It is a very part-time thing. I'm not qualified enough according the the rules of this country to work as a nurse, and honestly not sure I want the headache, so I simply work as what you would call an aide. I only work a few shifts a month, but enough to keep my foot in the door and do something. Besides that, I love old people.

The last new months, I've been noticing that there have been doors opening for quiet ministry here - where we are. Not a full-time job. Just being friends with, being involved in the lives I come in contact with. Dealing with abortion, abusive marriages, tired moms, friendly neighbors... I'm enjoying it... I guess... I mean, I enjoy being able to minister and comfort those around me, yet my heart breaks with their burdens, too.

The village I work in is mostly Catholic. Interesting to me, an American, because we don't naturally think of a village being anything. People are... but a village? Yet, it should be obvious. Tiny village of only a few houses and a huge steeple of a church towering over the village. The nun's home is beside the church, the school is right across the street, and the old people's home is sandwiched between the school and the graveyard. (I always thought that a bit odd - the view from the old people's living room window is the graveyard!) We've had a few real believers come in to the home, but most of our people would be Catholic or nothing. We've had a high number of nuns, priests, and now a um.. a... a monk? He is not a priest, yet not a nun (obviously!) He's a "brother".

But as I have cared for the nuns, priests, and brothers with Alzheimer's, questions go through my head.... the nun who always wanted to shut the door and make sure it was "just us girls" when she had a bath... once told me, "I don't like it when Father so and so comes in our room at night." .... "I told him no, but..." and she mumbles... Last night I had the "brother" say something very odd, too, in the shower room. Is it only Alzheimer's or has more been going on in that impressive stone building than we think?

I don't know. I only attempt to deal with the nightmares of Alzheimer's patients who have lost the ability to sort out the difference between the past and the present. Abuse, war, trauma, death... all these experiences tumble together in their minds and emotions while their coping strategies fail.

And in between that, I listen to the lives of my coworkers. Then I come home exhausted - at times not because of the work, but because of helping carry some burdens.

Then I come home, back home. I won't work for a few weeks again, and my mind switches to the needs of over there... to a different work. Yet the needs of a hurting world are so much the same. Different causes, same heartache... same emptiness seeking an answer.

The Right Response to Abortion?

It was an interesting conversation around the nursing station late this evening. My coworker in tears on and off throughout the evening.

Her daughter is pregnant.

The daughter who uses drugs, whose boyfriend is a drug dealer. The daughter who has been trouble for years, but whom the mother loves dearly.

The nurse at the desk was the one who had the conversation with me weeks ago about abortion. She's had two.

My friend has been raised in the church. She has her problems and faults, but she believes in God... and in life.

And me.

An interesting mix.

My coworker in tears because her 18 year old daughter has decided to have an abortion. And there is nothing the mother can do. So she cries at work because she is not home and she can.

What do you say? I'm sorry? It seems so little.

The boyfriend's mom is pushing the abortion. Saying that it is the "only option". My friend cries. Her first daughter and her second, the one who is pregnant, were both conceived outside of a marriage, but she chose life, and has tried her best at the responsibility that was given to her. She's done well, really.

But my friend cries. "How can that mom say it is the only choice? How can she say that to me?! I know, she knows, my daughter knows there are other choices!"

But what can you do? You can not force someone.

So she cried. It will be next week or the next. There are laws in this country that will take awhile to get some hoops jumped through first. Then the daughter asked her mother to drive her there. She said she hopes it is in the morning, or she will have to get a day off work (there are no extras at work so that would be tough). She says even if it is in the morning, she will not be able to work. She will be bawling.

I said to phone me. Right now, I am not taking more shifts, but phone me. Just tell my you need to take your daughter to the doctor, and I will take your shift.

On the way home, I felt odd. I just volunteered to cover for someone for an abortion. Is that the right response to abortion? But what else could I do? My coworker is sick over it. She was heaving and threw up in the garbage can over the thought of her daughter killing her baby. But she can not stop it. My response is the only one I have - to show love to my friend. To cry with her. To pray.

Right now, that is all I can do. Pray that she will change her mind, and be there for my friend if her daughter goes through with her plan.

It's sad. Very, very sad.