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On regret and despair- “…let the past sleep, but let it sleep in the sweet embrace if Christ, and let us go into the invincible future with Him.”- “Oswald Chambers
Wave after wave of migraines have me a bit behind on posts (not to mention frazzled in the brain) so I thought I would take an opportunity to share a few of my most recent reads.
1. The Most Famous Man In America: a biography of Henry Ward Beecher by Debbie Applegate
In a time when orators were the superstars of their day, Henry Ward Beecher rose to international fame. His father was the well known Puritan preacher, Lyman Beecher. Henry’s sister was the famous novelist Harriet Beecher Stowe (Uncle Tom’s Cabin). This biography, set in the years surrounding the American Civil War is a poignant tale of a man who struggled to reconcile the image of his Puritan father’s representation of a vengeful God with his deep longing to be known and loved by his Creator. Ms. Applegate delivers a wonderful, honest account of both Henry’s goodness, and giftedness as well as the startling contrasts of his character. Henry Ward Beecher was a man who reached the highest pinnacles of success in his life, only to see it all almost undone by a sex scandal. I highly recommend the book.
2. A Thousand Splendid Suns by: Khaled Hosseini
This novel, set in Afghanistan, is the story if two women, Mariam and Laila, as they struggle to survive and find lives of meaning in a country dominated by the concept of male superiority and “honor” as brutal war rips their nation to shreds over and again.
Mr. Hosseini pleads their case by painting a masterpiece of their sorrows while pulling back the curtain on Afghani culture to reveal to us all that is beautiful and good as it waits to rise above the rubble of war to bloom once again.
I had trouble putting this book down.
3. The Immortal Life of Hennrietta Lacks by: Rebecca Sloot
This is a the true story of Hennrietta Lacks and her descendants. Mrs. Lacks died of an aggressive form of cervical cancer in an age when African Americans were not granted the same rights as their white neighbors, even in health care. Mrs. Lacks’ cancerous cells were taken without her knowledge or consent and became the first human cells to be reproduced in the lab. Scientist shared her cells and they have been reproduced for medical research all over the world, providing humanity with many important advances in healthcare. Her family has not benefitted from her contribution. In fact, they can’t even afford healthcare. This is a fantastic book.
“Sometimes God puts us through the experience and discipline of darkness to teach us to hear and obey Him. Song birds are taught to sing in the dark, and God puts us into the shadow of his hand until we learn to hear Him.” – Oswald Chambers
Yesterday, I ran into Whole Foods to buy some chicken fried tofu (yum) and Little Man’s favorite tea. Whole Foods is the Disney World of grocery stores. There is a wonderful hot food bar and a cafe with free wi-fi where the uber-cool eat gourmet lunches at booths constructed from re-claimed, and environmentally friendly urban wood (whatever that means) while staring meditatively at their IPads through trendy geek glasses while, I presume, they are writing the next great American novel. (If they can actually type on that blasted tiny little screen.). There is a wine bar. Seriously. In the grocery store. How awesome is that?
But I only had a moment to dash in and dash out after taking one daughter to the doctor, and dropping off cupcakes at another child’s school. On the way out, I glanced at the uber cool toiling away at their masterpieces, or perhaps just playing Angry Birds, and I thought- “I’ll never be that kind if writer.”
I am more of a keep a notebook on hand at all times in case you get a moment writer.
I seize writing time much in the same way a man lost in the desert captures water, stopping to squeeze a few drops of dew from the leaves of a plant. I read Writer’s Digest while waiting for the kids at the Orthodontist. I work on plot transitions while washing dishes or attacking the endless pile of laundry. I pause in helping my kids with homework to answer e-mail from editors. Some days, I literally run through the house cleaning just for a few moments at the computer, and even then, more often than not, Puzzle the Puppy jumps up into my lap. I am sweeping together the elements of a career from the crumbs leftover from raising five kids.
And I do it with joy, because I love what I do. All of it.
Are you in some way doing something you love? We are each created with a unique part to play and when we find it, it energizes us, fills us with joy, and feeds our souls. A good friend of mine calls it “running between the hedgerows”.
You will know it when you find it- It is the thing you are willing to joyfully sweep together out of the crumbs.
“When a moral person is confronted with contempt, immorality, disloyalty, or dishonest, he is so repulsed by the offense that he turns away and in despair closes his heart to the offender. But the miracle of the redemptive reality of God is that the worst and the vilest offender can never exhaust the depths of his love.” – Oswald Chambers
My husband says we have a sixth child living here, a child nobody sees. His name is “Not Me”.
Who left these dirty socks in the floor?
“Not me!”
Who threw this toy in the toilet?
“Not me!”
Who wrote on the pantry wall?
“Not me!”
So, Little Man exercised a rare moment of artistic inspiration in Sunday school. Afterwards, he presented his masterpiece to his Dad.
“I made a wanted poster for Not Me, and it turns out he doesn’t look anything like me at all.”
There are things I think I know. There are illusions I harbor as truth. For instance, I once was pretty sure that I could defend myself if attacked. I was in great shape, had some boxing training. I knew how to throw a punch, and I can assure you that no one at the gym ever accused me of hitting like a girl. So, I was pretty sure that if the moment came when some guy with let’s say, a knife, chose me that he would get the surprise of his life. I imagined the news stories that would follow about how I beat him to a pulp and then held him for the police. Yes, I was confident. Smug even.
And when that day actually came, I didn’t throw a single punch. I screamed like a little girl, and then God miraculously saved my helpless little life.
Strike one, but here’s another….
I am serious about my faith, and was pretty sure I was unafraid to check out of mortality and enroll in eternity. “Death is nothing to fear,” I told myself. “Eternity in paradise? How great is that?” Sometimes, I waxed eloquent about the whole subject- you know the lilies of the field being here today and gone tomorrow, we are all dust in the wind kind of stuff. Yes, I was certain I was unafraid of death. Smug even.
Then my 16-year-old began to drive. Suddenly, I found my heart pounding, and it turns out there is nothing like a set of headlights closing in on the passenger side of the car to uncork pure unadulterated truth from a person. Over and again in that moment, I have found myself alternatingly screaming curse words or begging Jesus to save me. My son behind the wheel reveals my truest heart. Unfortunately.
Strike two, but here’s another…
I have spent the last 20+ years seeking God to settle that question most human beings ask at some point – What is my worth? I was pretty sure that I had this one under control. It was a path honestly trod, paved with forgiveness, nurtured with prayer, watered with tears. Yes, of this I was sure, I was of worth because I was simply a child of God. No more. No less. I was peaceful about it really. Smug even.
Then, I began to have migraines. I hate even saying that- “I have migraines.” It sounds so whiney and lame. I want to believe that because I have a great pain tolerance, I can just slug through while muttering, “What is pain anyway? Pain is nothing. I laugh at pain.” The problem is that for me, migraines are not just pain. They affect me cognitively, particularly in the realm of language. I say crazy stuff, which my kids find endlessly entertaining. I know what I mean to say, it just comes out differently. I have had store clerks laugh in my face because of ridiculous things I have said on migraine days. Sometimes, these headaches last for days. I had two last week. The second one lasted more than 36 hours.
Oh, and did I mention that I can’t write on migraine days? Not a word. And…that is when the truth is revealed, because if I can’t write who am I? What good am I? What if tomorrow, I lost the ability to form language forever? What would I be worth then? Now you may be reading this and saying to yourself, “This writing stinks. This is all she has?” Well, it may stink, but it means a lot to me and when I lose the ability for a couple of days I am faced with the ugly truth – I have based my worth not on who I am but what I do.
Strike three.
But here’s the great thing about these messy moments when God reveals the fragility of my illusions…truth is freeing. Our illusions of capability, and grandeur bind us. They force us to put a good face on it all and pretend to be tough when we are weak, brave when we are cowardly, and brilliantly eloquent when in truth we are, well… I can’t think of the word right now, but if I could it would be fabulous.
Anyway, facing our weaknesses allows us to stop pretending, and it is awful to pretend because we are constantly on the defensive for fear we will be discovered for who we really are. It is so much nicer to just let it all go and rest in God’s grace.
I love the way 1 John 3:20 says it- “If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.”
He knows everything. And he loves me still. There is nothing left to be, nothing left to do. He saw my worst and went to the cross for me anyway, and that is sweet news to a weak, cowardly, unproductive human like me. As a matter of fact, it is the kind of news that gives me the courage to keep getting back up over and over again.
