Destination Discipline

“There is a day that all creation’s waiting for, a day of freedom and liberation for the earth.” Lou Fellingham

Sometimes our hearts cry out for relief and do not find solace. Injustice abounds and our foundations crumble. Death attacks. Sickness prevails. Pain swells and crushes in the most devastating ways. Friends abandon us in our grief. We lick our wounds as they become infected and long for a kind word to heal our broken hearts. If we are lucky, a friend listens and does not try to provide a solution. The kindest action they take is to offer a shoulder for our tears.

For those of you who live wonderful, happy lives, I truly celebrate your innocence. Maybe you don’t know how it feels to experience loss, but the majority of us live in a world full of sadness and struggle. The headline suddenly becomes about us and not a stranger. We are peppered with questions while we struggle to respond because we are still sorting through our feelings. This is all the more prescient to me this week as it was announced that a co-worker’s sister was the victim of a murder suicide. What comfort is there when our beloved is taken from us in such a violent way?

Pastors walk these uncharted waters daily. They navigate channels littered with skeletons and landmines. They carry the burdens, salve the wounds, and then try to go to sleep at night with knowledge of the unholy. The rest of us fumble and stretch our brains trying to cope. And when the words won’t come, we groan.

This week I am thinking about my old pastor, Dave. He spoke into my life at a time when I thought my world was ending. In fact, life as I knew it did end. I reached the death of who I was and became who I am now. My how my life has changed! This refining by fire was necessary because it forced me to lean on a God I will never fully understand or comprehend. He proved himself faithful even when I was faithless.

Often times we search for the answers we want to hear and reject the path before us. We are like my dog, Tank, straining at the leash, flopping, flailing and trying to break free because we do not want to go that way. The train is too big, too loud, and too close. We feel we cannot safely walk beneath it. But God gently leads us under the trestle because He knows it is safe. He sees the bridge over the creek where we will find relief. He gently urges us forward and is careful not to trip over our wobbly legs. He takes our “I can’t” and says, kindly, “Try.”

If I look at my circumstances I get lost in the enormity of my struggles. There are all these problems I can’t solve, situations I have no control over, and people I love who I can’t heal. I look at myself and realize, “I’m just a girl, living on a broken planet, with other broken people. What can I do?” I look at my sweet and beautiful grandmother, broken with arthritis, Parkinson’s disease and well advanced in years. But I remember her strong arms around me when I was a child. I remember being tired and fearful but safe as she held me to her heart. I remember blackberry stained hands, and an indomitable spirit that laughed so easily. She told me recently, “I’ve lived a good and happy life.” Ruby has enriched my life with joy and gladness. She has taught me to live my life in such a way that I too enrich the lives of others with kindness.

Today if you are hurting, rest easy. Take heart. Rest your cheek on a friend’s shoulder. If you are a follower of Jesus, turn your eyes to Him and ask for help.

“He stands fast as your rock, steadfast as your safeguard, sleepless as your watcher, valiant as your champion.” – Charles H. Spurgeon.

And then go for a walk! Experience the beauty of nature. Step away from your sorrow if you can and set your eyes on the heavens.

Last night I found myself in Pershall Park again. It is my new place of refuge and relief. I sat on a bench and stared at the brilliant blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Birch trees swayed over the path, and we snuck a peek at the apple trees laden with fruit. It is my new place of peace. I listened to my children laughing as they played. I watched them run.

We have an opportunity to set our eyes on what is true. We can choose to look away from our sorrows and see beauty. In the midst of pain and suffering we can instead fix our gazes on the babbling brook, the smiling dog, and the scribbled hearts of a five year old on a scrap of paper given in love. In such choices we find our pain lessened, our hearts soothed and our minds eased. And we learn grace is not just an adjective, but a verb.

I have been off work for the past 5 days. I took some vacation time with the sole intent of doing something wonderfully relaxing. I had big plans…fishing by myself and catching a big bass, swinging on the porch and enjoying a cool breeze, splashing in a creek. I had been looking forward to my little vacation with great relish! But as it is with life, things don’t always go as planned. I won’t go into detail because that would make it sound worse than it really was, but instead of catching crawdads, I ended up running around town to doctors offices, meeting with school nurses and pouting over a pile of tomatoes.

Pouting over tomatoes, you ask? Yes. Silly, isn’t it? But we have so many tomatoes this year I have been giving them away. Still, we planted them with the hope that we could make marinara sauce. Unfortunately, it takes a lot of time, something I do not always have in abundance. With my hopes for frog catching shattered by mom duty, I surveyed the bags of tomatoes and decided I may as well stand at my kitchen sink for a day and make sauce. Boo hoo.

But isn’t that how it is with dashed expectations? We have this idea of bliss that gets drowned with a dollop of reality. So I made my sauce, and I made bread and I tried not to cry over the fact that I wasn’t squishing my toes in riverbed gravel.

My obligations as a parent require a great deal of sacrifice. Running children hither and thither make it nearly impossible to do anything substantial for myself. I’m not crabbing about it. That’s just the way life is. So when I collapsed into bed at 8:45pm on Saturday evening, exhausted beyond words, I felt a little depressed. I must really be old! No boot-scootin’-boogie for me. No rally-round-the-camp-fire. Just muscle-aching-weariness. And disappointment. Let’s not forget that.

So when the sun came up Sunday morning I seized the opportunity of a new day to do something just for me. I aired up my bicycle tires, grabbed a thermos full of water and hit the streets! The air was cool and utterly refreshing. I had my earplugs in and Switchfoot on shuffle. I pedaled like a crazy woman and stood up to fly down hills. I realize this lumpy middle-aged body looks a little goofy but I don’t care! I was just so happy for a little bit of “me” time. Riding my bicycle makes me feel like I am 10 years old again–coasting down a hill–and pretending to be a bird. It just makes me so happy! I spent two hours thanking God for blue skies, fluffy white clouds and mist rising off freshly mowed fields. Even though I couldn’t be in the country like I wanted to, I found a bit of country on Missouri Bottom Road to ride through and it was glorious!

I took my children to church and enjoyed worship. After the service I saw a friend who warmed my heart(Katie!) and was given a gift that both thrilled and encouraged me. Grace upon grace showered down onto me in such a way that I forgot all about my disappointment in not exploring the woods. We made a little trip to Columbia Bottom Conservation area to see the muddy Mississippi and ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant(Tequila in St. Peters). Then we enjoyed Fritz’s Frozen custard. I didn’t eat any but derived so much pleasure from watching my family enjoy theirs. I wish I would have video taped my youngest beastlet slurping his chocolate cone. It is a precious memory and the very definition of joy.

Today is Monday. It is a day of rest and reflection. It is a day to celebrate the joys in life that cannot be measured by money or time or location. If we can find a way to be happy even in the midst of disappointment; if we can learn to celebrate when ash rains around our ears and hives punctuate our weary flesh, I believe we will lead fuller, more satisfied lives. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always comfortable, but it’s my life. It is unique and beautiful and wonderful in ways I can’t put into words. Today I am grateful for a paid day off work–a labor free day. And it is glorious!

It’s a question I have received a lot lately. For various reasons I have chosen not to blog about the situation in Ferguson, Missouri. To be more clear, I have written several blog posts but not put them up because I am upset and don’t want to wound with my words. With age I have learned that pain can bring out the worst in us. Pain also distorts our perception of people and events. If we are not careful we can get carried away on a tide of emotion and later drown in a sea of regret. I would rather stand on the shoreline, dry, dusty, and safe than add something negative to the many narratives currently floating around the web.

But today I choose to speak. Today I read an article in the Post Dispatch online by Bill McClellan. I love reading his columns because so frequently I disagree with him. What, you say? You like to read things you disagree with? Yes, I do, because I like to hear perspectives that differ from my own. It gives me clarity on my beliefs. Still, every so often he writes something that resonates with me. Today it was, “Hope for a New Ferguson” where he opined of his hope for the formation of a group of people that are willing to work towards a brighter future for Ferguson, Missouri.

If Bill had asked the right people he would have discovered that there are many groups working toward this goal in my hometown. Last night I went to a town hall style meeting that was held at the First Baptist Church of Ferguson on South Florissant Road. Many of my neighbors gathered there to share ideas on how to move forward after the events of recent days. I went to this meeting with very mixed feelings. I attended with my mother-in-law who has lived in Ferguson for 35 years and has very definite opinions of her own. We sat in the midst of a great crowd of people, all with their own opinions, and listened as our leaders shared–not without intense emotion–how hurt they felt about how we are being portrayed in the media but also how hopeful they are about Ferguson overcoming this dark time in our history.

I moved to Ferguson 17 years ago and have undergone significant transformation in that time. As many of you know, I write a column in The Ferguson Times called Ferguson by Foot. My articles discuss living a healthy lifestyle in simple but practical ways and also about having a positive attitude. It’s not unlike my blog except that I focus on Ferguson and the wonderful place it is to live. I lost 140 pounds walking, jogging, cycling and roller-skating around Ferguson. I like to wave to all of my neighbors, those I know and don’t know. I like to smile and laugh with them at my sometimes strange antics(waving my arms around to get my heart-rate up and punching invisible goblins). I’ve even had people honk and wave at me as they drive down my streets because I’m jogging, leaping and dancing in circles(probably to Switchfoot). I like to think I live my life trying to cheer up strangers because I know from personal experience how sad life can be. There hasn’t been any dancing, or happiness for that matter, in the past two weeks.

I see a lot of people post messages on social media about how sad the situation in Ferguson is. People are angry too. Everyone has an opinion but most of the people giving an opinion don’t live here. I do.

I have invested my life into this city. Every day I pour out my heart into our streets, into the people, into my community. I love Ferguson. And I don’t say that lightly. This is my home. But now my home feels unsafe. The mayor promises me it is, but I don’t believe him. I love our mayor and I am proud of him, so don’t take that the wrong way. He is leading courageously. But I’m sorry, I don’t feel safe. There are strangers and interlopers at my local grocery store, unfriendly faces that look past me when I smile and say hello. There are great big news vans with satellite dishes on top and fat, ugly reporters and cameramen glaring at me as I drive by. I have to look at them every time I go to the grocery store, to work, to church. There are “peaceful protesters” waving signs with hateful words on them. They scream and holler. They wave their arms maliciously. I can’t walk to the fire station and visit the firemen. I can’t walk to the Ferguson library. I can’t walk to the display trains in downtown Ferguson with my young son because we are fearful and we don’t want to be screamed at. More importantly, I can’t walk around Ferguson to exercise in the morning.

In the midst of all this my youngest son began to break out in hives for no apparent reason. (Please don’t give me advice—I’ve had enough). We visited an allergist yesterday and are moving forward but it is possible that the stress of all the commotion in our city has caused his skin to erupt in a horror of itchy welts. So I pray. I pray for Ferguson–for peace. I pray for my neighbors–that they would find a way past their bitterness. I pray for the city leaders–that they would guide us to a better future. I pray for the police officers I love and respect–the brave men and women who have protected me for years. One officer is not all of the officers. And I try not to judge the situation. I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened.

So how am I? I am devastated. Tired. And sad beyond words. I worry. I weep. And there is no easy out. As I sat at the community meeting last night I found myself frustrated. Maybe it’s because there are no simple solutions. Maybe there are no solutions at all.

I think true change begins in the human heart. We can choose to love. We can choose to forgive. Or we can choose to hate. We can choose to be bitter. We all choose. I will continue to love my neighbors and my community because that is who I am. I have never loved or hated people based on the color of their skin. I love people for who they are on the inside. If you are regular reader of this blog you will know that. But please pray for me. I am not okay. And neither are many of my neighbors. I pray God changes all of our hearts….for the better.