Destination Discipline

I love carefree days. I like watching clouds undulate across the sky like white, wooly fluff. I like listening to the birds sing and the breeze blow through the trees. But this is not one of those days. Today, the foul mood of badness has fallen on my head like an anvil, and I feel like kicking the dog. I feel like driving fast with loud music blaring and cutting people off in traffic. Because as we all know, a bad mood is best when shared with unsuspecting people.

A friend of mine said recently I am prone to allowing my emotions to get the better of me. She meant to admonish me for caving into my feelings because I was having an epic sulk. After I grabbed said friend by the throat and body slammed her into a cement wall (or was that just my imagination?) I grabbed a bag of chocolate and showed her! Take that Miss Judgmental Judy. I’ll show you how much I don’t care about your self-righteous platitudes. And while I’m at it, my pants are getting pissy too so don’t mess with me.

The thing is, bad moods don’t generally just happen. There is usually a precipitating factor that causes pain. Depending on the situation and our temperament, we may just have a good cry and move on. Other times, we need to kill people (or at the very least poke them with sharp sticks until they squeal).

I yam what I yam

I’m a slow-burn type of girl. I’m sort of like a female version of Popeye. I can be really calm and collected and self-controlled for a while, but then, “I’ve had all I can stand, and I can’t stand no more!” Hand me the spinach. Somebody is going to suffer. That is when I get reckless.

I won’t bore the dear reader with my sob story of how I got to this point. (Hint: I live with a 13-year-old, strong-willed bi-polar boy) What I will say is that lately, I’ve been seeing red–blood red. And the truth is, it’s just plain fun to provoke people when I feel that way. In that regard, social media is like crack cocaine; there are plenty of other pissed off and provoked people who fuel my addiction. And sometimes, the temptation to indulge in a little verbal jousting is simply irresistible.

“But Margaret, are you saying that when you get mad you enjoy being a jerk?”

“Why yes, Dear Reader. Yes, I do. Would you like some of this action?”

But the really bad thing about reckless behavior is that it breeds like a bunny. Not that I’m worried about losing friends when I’m in that type of mood, but I recognize there can be long-term consequences. Which is why I have been cultivating habits for healthier ways to address my bad moods.

There is something very cathartic about running when I am mad. I can turn on the music (usually Switchfoot) and beat up the cement with my Mizuno running shoes. Nobody gets hurt and I expend pent up energy. There is also something very appealing about burning things. For a while I was really angry with some stumps in my yard that refused to stop growing. I decided to pile leaves on them and burn them…at least until one of my (nosey, obnoxious) neighbors called the fire department–who promptly informed me burning leaves in my yard is not exactly legal. And since it is also illegal to konk firemen over the head with my rake, I let them use my garden hose to extinguish my fire. But I must admit, I was very “put out”.

…and you thought stepping on a crack would break your mama’s back.

This weekend, I was mad enough about life stuff that I picked up sweet gumballs and burned them in my firepit. This is what I do when I get so mad I could spit. Take that you darn tree of horrible, god-awful, thorny spheres of ankle-breaking evil. I will burn your progeny in my fire pit. Roast! And since there are no instances of sweet gum trees attacking feisty middle-aged mothers of testy teens, I figured I was probably pretty safe.

But seriously, when the urge comes upon us to enact vengeance, we really must try to resist the urge to puncture innocent people. For that matter, we probably shouldn’t poke guilty people either. There are laws against assault and battery that could land us in a real jail cell or at the very least, poked back and still pissed. And since our culture is currently in a heightened state of “reckless”, we really should do our best to end the cycle.

So, dear reader, take my advice: don’t kick your dog, don’t throw eggs at your neighbor’s house, and don’t slap anyone silly (though you may text someone that if they don’t shut up you will slap them silly). But rather, pray to Almighty God to help you find an alternative outlet–be it stomping moles that are destroying your yard, trapping greedy squirrels and poking them through the cage with your fingers, or farting on your bratty teenage boy (beans, the magical fruit!). There really is no limit to the creativity a bad mood can inspire. Shoot, I did all three of those things today and I feel much better already.

I welcome safe and effective suggestions in the comments.

I have a friend who lived on a lonely island. Sally spent years trying to build a boat that would transport her from isolation and depression to love and security. She was a master boat-builder, but every time she completed a boat and set sail, a tsunami of circumstances snatched her creation and wrecked it at sea. The ocean near her island was littered with the bones of many valiant ships, yet she sat on the lonely shoreline with only a handful of tears for company.

She had a host of friends shouting at her from across the harbor. They all had advice for how to build a better boat. They told her about canvas and rigging and what type of wood to use. They offered plenty of constructive criticism on her rudder design, but while they had the best intentions, they couldn’t stop the tsunami’s from happening.

Some of them got tired of watching her build and ridiculed her instead. Others, faded away because her efforts exhausted them. But there was one friend she barely perceived on the opposite shore who called out to her in a calming voice, “I love you. I have not abandoned you. I am here. I will find a way to rescue you.”

There were times the fog was so thick she couldn’t see this friend. Sometimes the wind was howling to an extent that she couldn’t hear the friend either. In fact, she had never even seen his face, but she kept searching for his voice and his words. She wanted to believe he was there, and that he would find a way to get her off that stinking island. Unfortunately, for all her wishing and hoping, he never seemed to show up.

One sunny day Sally notices the water is rising on the island. Her latest ship is complete and ready to sail–and just in time! She jumps aboard the great “Lottery Jackpot” and unfurls the sails. A great gust of wind fills them, and she is propelled further out to sea than ever before. A flock of gulls swooshes over the bow and lands. They drop gold coins near her feet and then fly away. Sally cannot believe her good fortune. With blue skies and no clouds in sight she realizes that she is finally going to reach the other shore. No tsunamis! In fact, a great multitude of people have gathered to meet her there. She sees they have champagne and fireworks and her heart is filled with happiness when suddenly—she is propelled forward when the ship hits something hard. There is a loud groan. She leans over the rails to discover she has hit a coral reef. Worse, there is a giant hole in the side of the ship, and it is taking on water.

Sally cries out to her friends, “Help! Save me! Send a life raft.”

But they stare at her, perplexed by her predicament. Someone shouts, “Why don’t you grow wings and fly over here?” Another person whistles, “It can’t get much worse than this. You’re doomed.” While another shouts, “Hey, throw me some of those gold coins. I can use them since you’re going to die anyway.”

Sally gazes back at the island and wishes for a moment that she could go back. At least on the island she had food and water. At least on the island she had a modicum of hope.

Sally walks back to the stern and lays down. She knows it’s over now. But over the commotion she hears the voice of her friend. “I love you. I have not abandoned you. Do you believe me?”

Sally wants to answer but her weak voice can’t cry above the rushing water. She really wants to believe that he is there, but she can’t see him. When suddenly above the din and clamor she hears a deep voice proclaim, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench.” And then Sally believes with her heart that she can see him–even though her sight is failing–even though the ship sinks.

With her last breath she says, “I believe! Lord, help my unbelief!”

And then a hand reaches out and grabs her arms and pulls her out of the water. She is stunned to see she is standing on the most marvelous golden bridge. She looks up at the man who has rescued her and sees that he is just a plain guy. In fact, he’s not dressed very cool, nor does he even have trendy hair. Sally is so overwhelmed with emotion to discover he is real she says, “Dude! Thank you!” But nothing else will come out.

His smile is very kind. And he says, “I told you I would never leave you or forsake you. I’ve been building this bridge to get to you for years. You just couldn’t see it.”

Sally stutters a bit, spitting water out of her mouth and taking deep breaths. She is still reeling from not being sucked into the vortex the sinking ship created. “Why not?”

“You needed faith. The only people who can use this bridge have faith in me.”

Sally takes one of his nail-pierced hands and squeezes it. “Thank you for saving me, Jesus.”

Faith is like a bridge. Bridges are built. They don’t just happen. 

Bridges serve an important purpose. They help us to get from point A to point B. 

Sometimes they are modern marvels; other times they are a spattering of stones over a trickling creek. If the bridge is not adequate, we fall–often to our peril.

In times of war, the opposing army will first destroy local bridges to slow the opposition. 

For those who believe in Jesus, we have a bridge that can never be destroyed. That bridge is faith–and it is more precious than gold.

“For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” Romans 9:5-6

I like a good joke and I love to laugh. I love to be silly and to inspire silliness in others. When there are so many dark and ugly things in the world, it often helps to focus on the humorous. Laughter is a great coping mechanism.

That is why I recently found myself making up jokes and sending them to my son, who is in the Marines. He is stuck in a medical platoon with an injury waiting for a medical discharge. He has been there for a year and–as one can imagine–it gets pretty depressing. He was not able to come home for the holidays and while we talked on the phone on Christmas Day, it’s just not the same. So, I tried to cheer him up with these gems…

Me: “What do you call a killer whale that swallows a goat?”

Him: “Stupid cuz it’s not supposed to eat goats.”

Me: Orchid! (get it? Orca & kid?) Orchid! funny! Ha, ha, ha! right?

Me: What do you call a bass that swallows a cell phone?

Him: no idea.

Me: Cell-fish. (get it? Funny! ha, ha, ha!)

Him:  Really?

Me: “I saved the best for last… What does Bruce Lee say when he’s thirsty?”

Him: No idea.

Me: “I need a drink of waaaaaaah……..ter!”

So, I imagined my son sitting there in the barracks staring at his phone and thinking his mother isn’t a very good comedian. I mean, I tried, but I guess I should keep my day job.

Two notable comedians passed away recently, and I find myself asking the question, “Where’s the punchline?” When someone dies, a light goes out, and we find ourselves sitting in darkness. In this case, we don’t even have laughter to keep us company.

Boy, this blog got really dark really fast! Geez, Margaret. Tell us something funny. We don’t want to think about ‘you-know-what’.  It stinks!

I hear you. I don’t either.

But I’ve also been thinking about Betty White. She was the master of dead-pan innocence. She could keep a straight face with the best of them. I grew up watching her wide-eyed stare on The Golden Girls. Often, Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty and Rue McClanahan would struggle to keep their composure. Rose was the heart of that show. Now, they are all dead. Who’s next? Carol Burnett? I know. I shouldn’t have typed that. But as far as I know, the human death ratio is one per person. And those are some pretty depressing stats.

But do you know what doesn’t die? Troll Dolls. For some reason, they keep coming back. Troll dolls are immortal.

Freddie Mercury once sang, “All dead, all dead All the dreams we had. And I wonder why I still live on.” God bless him. He wasn’t much of an optimist.

I miss Freddie Mercury. He could sing the alphabet and I would listen; entranced by his intonations. His untimely death also broke my heart. So how do we respond?

Some would say we should get busy living. We should laugh more. And I agree. Except that so many people are sick and dying around us that I’m still struggling to find the punchline. Even sarcasm and cynicism are little deaths. There is a tinge of pain in the brutal reality of having to bear with things that don’t die but should. Disco. Pleather pants. 80’s smooth jazz. Fad diets. But–I think the crux of what I’m getting at is this: in some shape or fashion, we are all afraid to die. But to deal with it, we all just kind of pretend it’s not going to happen. Then, when it does, we are forced to deal with that gut-wrenching reality. And frankly, it’s crippling.

Peace with God is the only way to eliminate the fear of death. And we can find peace by confessing our sin and crying out to Jesus for mercy. His grace will find us no matter where we are–no matter what we are doing–no matter what we have done. And I have to say, living without the fear of death gives me great joy. That is why I set my mind on the things of the spirit. The Spirit is life and peace.

Today, if you are struggling to find the punchline, don’t lose heart. Jesus has conquered the grave! And one day we will be with Him in paradise. He promised. And He never breaks His promise.