Moments Worth Mentioning

…Don’t say anything at all.  We all heard that as a child.  And after tonight…. I feel like it needs to be repeated.

After a truly marvelous weekend of family, friends and a little Andy Stanley, I sit here tonight a little bit sad.  After church tonight I went out to dinner with a bunch of friends.  It is always like a final goodbye to the weekend and a great way to wind down, catch up and share a moment or two of genuine time with the amazing people I have in my life.  Tonight was no exception.  Dinner was fun and I left feeling refreshed and energized… ready for the week ahead.  And then, within a matter of a few minutes that all changed.

It continues to amaze me how the lack of communication can rip us apart.  It makes me upset to know that people will lash out with their words without considering the lasting effects that they have.  I’m hurt that things can be taken out of context and spread like wildfire through a group that supposedly cares deeply for one another.  Bottom line, I’m sad that people won’t take the time and just confront each other instead of bringing others into the underlying issue.

I go to bed tonight praying that these two or three individuals can find their way back to each other.  That they all take a deep breath before lashing out, and that they take a look at a big picture.  My hope is that we all learn how to love each other a little better and treat each other with a little more respect.  And ultimately, learn how to focus on ourselves and our own demons before casting judgment on others.

To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices. -Mark 12:32-34

Do you have those days that you wake up, and before your feet even touch the ground, you are already frustrated?  Days that make you question yourself.  Make you doubt everything.

Today, I am not confident, not perfect, not all put together.  I woke up still angry, still on the verge of tears.  I am resentful and bitter….  all before I can even open a box of cereal.  And even more insulting is the fact that I don’t want to be any of these things.  I don’t want someone to have this much control over me.  Unlike every other relationship that has turned sour, I physically can’t run away from this one.  Instead, in less than six hours, I have to share a room with him and put on a happy face for the crowd.  Something I am sadly really, really good at.  I will then leave the party and continue on.  Nothing will be said.  He will never know how much he hurt my feelings this weekend.  Life will carry on.

If you were to strip away every layer of my personality, you would find, at the center of it all, the ultimate need to please people… to fix the hurt, to make everything right in the world.  As much as everything in my being is telling me to fix this, I just can’t.  I don’t know how.  My heart breaks in knowing the most important man in my life is also the most painful relationship that I have.

I want to have faith, I really want to have faith.  But today, right now, in this moment, I don’t know how to do that either.

Oh December…. We meet again.  I don’t talk a lot about the thoughts that go through my head during this time of the year.  It’s a month that I truly have a love-hate relationship with and just find a way to get through.

As a kid, I loved the Christmas season.  It was always a big deal in our house.  Lots of family, lots of decorations, lots of excitement.  I have vivid memories of waking up to Barbie Cars, roller blades, and trampolines.  My parents had a way of making the season magical…. maybe in hindsight a little too magical.  But regardless, that all changed when I was in 9th grade when my parents got divorced.  Christmas became a high stress, high emotional event in which I was forced to choose sides.  It became a contest in which my mom and dad had to give the biggest and the best.  Somewhere in between splitting up Christmas ornaments and being shuffled around on Christmas day, the joy of Christmas left me.

Fast forward about ten years and I found myself trying to start my own Christmas traditions.  I vowed to put the hurt behind me and focus on the future….. I had my own family and wanted to find the joy again.  I chose a wedding date in December with the intention of being able to celebrate an anniversary during a month that had once been so painful.  We decorated, we celebrated, we decorated some more.  We had our own traditions.  For a few years Christmas became a fun time of year again.

In a few weeks it would have been my 5th wedding anniversary.  (Key word: Would)

Being that we got married a week before Christmas, the amount of “Our First Christmas” decorations were numerous.  We treasured those gifts and proudly displayed them each year.  During the aftermath of the divorce the majority of those decorations ended up in a box that became mine.  That box has followed me to my parents house, to Michigan and back, and to several other stops along the way.  Every year, as I put up my Christmas tree that box shows itself.  It is an ugly reminder of what was…. always appearing during a month that should have been another anniversary.  It makes December difficult.  I hate that box.

I can’t explain why I haven’t thrown it away, so I’m not going to even try.

It amazes me how much we are able to “box up” parts of our past.  We all have history that is painful and easier to stuff into a closet instead of dealing with it.  Over the last 10+ weeks I have been involved in a small group in which I have had to bring out that “box”.  I have had to dissect and analyze so many of the things that I had buried away.  There have been weeks where I walk away realizing how far I have come, and there are other weeks that have brought me to tears knowing that so much pain can be brought on by only opening up a box of Christmas decorations.

This past weekend, as I got out my tree and ornaments I found those First Christmas ornaments.  I sat and went though them one more time.  Remembering.  And then, with one swift toss, they were in a dumpster.  Never to be seen again.  Maybe I have found the strength to get rid of them though this class.  Maybe I have just had enough.  Maybe I’m just ready to move on.

It’s a blessing and a curse that I love tradition so much.  I want things to be perfect and get angry when anything gets in the way of my vision.  I hate that so many painful memories are associated with the Christmas season.  I hate that I grew up only knowing Santa and that Jesus was an afterthought.  I hate that I tried to fix the hurt by replacing it with something new.  I hate that December 18th will forever be a sad day.

But at least next year, when I go to put up my tree, I won’t have that box waiting for me.

Today I started at the new office.  My commute was surprisingly not as bad as I had envisioned, the work load was not nearly as bad as I had thought, and the doctors were all much nicer then I had been told.  All in all, it was a successful day.

I knew that I would be “unplugged” going into today.  My normal routines of checking in on Twitter, Facebook and gchat would no longer be an option in my new position.  (What can I say… Im addicted to the social media scene!)  I was surprisingly okay with the idea and managed to get through the day without many withdrawal pains.  But as I sat down tonight and plugged in the laptop I realize how much had transpired today.

Through that same social media scene that I thought I could live without, I learn that a friend has lost his mom today.  I immediately pick up the phone and call him.  As I listen to him recount the last few hours of his life I can’t help but think about how much we take for granted.

I have been stressing and worrying so much over the last few weeks about this new position.  I became so consumed in the details of the transition and worried about how the lack of control would effect me.   I took for granted that the opportunity was there at all and that I had a choice in the matter.  I obviously had no way of knowing what the future would look like but that didn’t stop me from spending countless hours worrying about it.

Tonight I have Josh in my prayers as I realize how insignificant my new office is…… when you think about the big picture.   I also pray that all of us will understand that God has all of this planned.  We worry ourselves sick over details, when at the end of the day it was never in our control to begin with.  Which, honestly, it much more comforting then any plan I could come up with.

Its been a whirl wind kind of week!  I now have a mere 5 days left at my current office.  As of November 23rd, I will be working in the big city and will no longer have the similar, friendly faces around me.  Its been a difficult decision to walk away from such an amazing working environment to say the least. 

To complicate the transition, the (lack of) communication between my management concerning my move has left lots of people feeling out of the loop.  I can easily understand the frustration as some very important people within this company are finding about the transition through hear-say.  These people have invested in our program and have made a personal investment in me these last 8+ months.  They deserved to know that I was leaving.  They deserved some communication.

It continues to amaze me how much communication plays a vital role in every relationship we have.  Here, it shows up in the work place, but its often the reason for personal relationship failure.  I will be the first to admit that I have had to learn how to be a better communicator.  But at least I’m aware of my shortcomings!  Some go through their entire lives without grasping the concept.   So many problems have the potential to be completely prevented had we made the effort to talk, to email, to scream, to call… to communicate. 

 Finially, this morning, after many hurt feelings, strong worded phone calls, and heated conversations an official email was sent out to bring everyone up to speed on my move.  Amazingly, everyone is now OK with the change.  Imagine the frustration that would have been avoided had that same email gone out a few weeks ago. 

Instead of now being the center of controversy, the mood has shifted to sadness.  My coworkers and I are now having to say goodbye and make the promises to see each other again. 

Honestly, I don’t know which is worse.

Earlier this summer, I had the privilege of meeting a special family during a golf outing. Their two teenage children, MacKenzie and Spencer were both diagnosed with TaySachs disease and have been deifying the odds for many years. I am saddened to hear that MacKenzie lost her battle late Friday night.

Thoughts are prayers for her family, and her many many friends.

“My arms long to hold her and my lips already miss her kisses, but I know she is running free and playing. I feel like a piece of my soul has been torn from me. My darling baby girl, you don’t have to dream of angels anymore….you are one now. I love you to the moon and back.” – Mama

The Maddox/Conde families remain in my prayers today. What an incredible family, and an incredible little girl. Maria had been keeping everyone updated through a blog over the past two months. As I go back and read the daily updates, I am in awe of her faithfulness and assurance of God’s plan for her little girl. A lesson we could all learn from…

Thank you Abby for passing this along…

When Death Becomes Birth
by Max Lucado

You live one final breath from your own funeral.

Which, from God’s perspective, is nothing to grieve. He responds to these grave facts with this great news: “The day you die is better than the day you are born” (Eccles. 7:1). Now there is a twist. Heaven enjoys a maternity-ward reaction to funerals. Angels watch body burials the same way grandparents monitor delivery-room doors. “He’ll be coming through any minute!” They can’t wait to see the new arrival. While we’re driving hearses and wearing black, they’re hanging pink and blue streamers and passing out cigars. We don’t grieve when babies enter the world. The hosts of heaven don’t weep when we leave it.

Oh, but many of us weep at the thought of death. Do you? Do you dread your death? And is your dread of death robbing your joy of life?

Jesus came to “deliver those who have lived all their lives as slaves to the fear of dying” (Heb. 2:15).

Your death may surprise you and sadden others, but heaven knows no untimely death: “You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed” (Ps. 139:16).

Dread of death ends when you know heaven is your true home. In all my air travels I’ve never seen one passenger weep when the plane landed. Never. No one clings to the armrests and begs, “Don’t make me leave. Don’t make me leave. Let me stay and eat more peanuts.” We’re willing to exit because the plane has no permanent mailing address. Nor does this world. “But we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives. And we are eagerly waiting for him to return as our Savior” (Phil. 3:20).

Why don’t you do this: give God your death. Imagine your last breath, envision your final minutes, and offer them to him. Deliberately. Regularly. “Lord, I receive your work on the cross and in your resurrection. I entrust you with my departure from earth.” With Christ as your friend and heaven as your home, the day of death becomes sweeter than the day of birth.

From
Come Thirsty
© (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2004) Max Lucado

My thoughts and prayers are with a very special family down in Georgia today. These are some of my favorite people on the planet, and my heart breaks knowing that they are hurting today after the loss of baby Elsie. I pray that they can find comfort and peace in the days to come.

What an inspiration this man was. He has touched millions of lives through his amazing attitude and spirit. Thank you Dylan, Logan, and Chloe for sharing your daddy with us!