Category: attitude

How Many Times do I have to Tell You?

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

“How many times do I have to tell you?”

I’ve said it to my children.  “How many times do I have to tell you to rinse out your dish and put it in the dishwasher?”  “How many times do I have to tell you to hang up your wet towel?” “How many times do I have to tell you to call me when you get there?”

I’ve said it to my students. “How many times do I have to tell you that MLA format requires you to double space and use 12 pt. font?”  “How many times do I have to tell you the due date?” “How many times do I need to tell you to document your sources?”

But today I am hearing the words myself, “How many times do I have to tell you?” But while I growl my words in exasperation at my children and my students, I am hearing the words spoken gently into my heart as my chin is lifted tenderly by gentle fingers that draw my eyes upward.

How many times do I have to write the same blog?  How many times do I have to admit that I am “bent on turning” and that I did it again, I turned and went my own way.  In this very busy semester, I went back to what I know — soldiering.  Ok, fine, it has been a milder version of soldiering.  My regimen now includes daily doses of rest, reading, and recovery.  It mandates several repeats of yoga and walking.  It requires completing responsibilities to family such as laundry, cooking, and bill paying.  On the surface, it looks pretty healthy.  But it’s subtle soldiering.  Want to know why? Because I’ve been relying on myself and listening to the voices in the trenches.  How do I know? Because I’m surly.

There, I said it.  I’ve been surly.  Again, it’s a subtle surly.  I’ve been able to be fairly pleasant to the people in my life, but my internal monologue is grumbly and negative.  That’s part of the reason that I didn’t blog last week or the week before.  I sit down to type and the interior pops onto the page. It’s the only thing my fingers know how to do. I mean, they try to produce a positive message, but it ends up sounding saccharine — not at all genuine.  And I can spot fake from about a mile away.  Even when it’s coming out of my own fingers. Yuck.

So, today I’m waiting for student papers to come in.  I’ve graded everything that’s in my possession. I have nowhere to be today.  I’ve got the day to myself.  Yes, I plan to do some baking, but I feel the pull to my Bible and prayer journal.  I feel the need to catch up on my YouVersion reading plan — I’m about three days behind.

Being my surly self, I got diverted several times on my way to my reading, but finally I plunked down on the futon and opened the app on my phone.  Yes, I know, even getting caught up on YouVersion is a bit like soldiering…shhhh…it got me there, ok?

I was scrolling through the daily readings…blah, blah, blah,….fine, Isaiah, I see you. I kept reading and scrolling, reading and scrolling, Isaiah, my friend, you have so. many. words. Like a true soldier, I continued to read and scroll, gonna get caught up, you know. But then something happened.  My soldiering self sat down when I heard a voice that I recognized.  It wasn’t a voice from the trenches.

It wasn’t saying “do more, be more, get more;” it said, “he will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms.”

It didn’t say, “be the greatest, prove your worth;” it said “It is He who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers.” (Hop. Flit. Jump.)

I’m tired of hopping and jumping, I thought.  And almost immediately I read, “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.”

What must that be like, I grumbled weakly, to not grow weary?  And I read, “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God.”

Oh, yeah.  I’m not alone, am I?  The world does not spin because I’m trying so hard. “Fear not, I have called you by name; you are mine.”   I am His.  I don’t have to prove my identity through my performance.  “I am He who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember my sins.”  Really?  You don’t remember that I was just blogging about my propensity to turn and here I am again, confessing to the same exact sin?

“I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like a mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.”

I hear you.  I’m turning. How could I not?  You are speaking directly to me.  How did you manage to do that through the Bible reading plan on my phone?

“I call you by your name.” Yes, you sure do.

“I name you, though you do not know me.” You’re right.  I haven’t been acting like I know you.

” I am the Lord your God. I am God and there is no other.”

Yes, yes you are.  And let’s just get it out in the open.  I’m bent on turning, so you’re probably going to have to tell me again.

“Fear not, I am the One who helps you.”

Isaiah 40-44, selected verses

It is Written, Re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

On Monday, I suggested we return to the Word of God as we try to find our way through the coronavirus crisis. I wrote this post in the fall of 2016 during another challenging time in this country — another time when I found myself returning to the Word of God for solace and guidance.

My blog has been silent for a few weeks. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say; I just haven’t had anything I wanted to put in print.

My brain has been processing a flood of images and information — in addition to the madness that we will call the election of 2016, my husband and I traveled to South Africa for a week, came back for a week, and then went to Austin, TX for four days. Oh, and we’ve also been holding down our day jobs — he’s the dean of students at a small university and I am an adjunct professor of English and a private tutor.

I’ve really wanted to write more about what we observed in South Africa and how that has informed the ways in which we see our community, but when we got back, we saw things in our community that were very unsettling — so much posturing and name-calling, blaming and shaming, people positioned on the figurative both sides pointing fingers and shouting accusations. We, or perhaps I should switch now to I, I reeled.

While in South Africa, we were in a unique position to just observe. For as long as I can remember, my husband and I have been in positions of leadership, so being free to observe with no responsibility for others was very unusual. We met people, heard their stories, were inspired by their dreams, saw their struggles, and shared their joys. We didn’t really do anything other than bear witness to their lives. And then, about a week later, we were put in a similar position. In Austin, although my husband had minimal responsibilities, for the most part, we were again observers. Seeing. Listening. 

Is it too egotistical of me to imagine that God crafted these experiences so that we could come back and observe what has been happening in our very own community, in our very own country? Because I really think that is what happened. For the last two weeks, we have been watching and listening. We debrief with one another in the evenings, of course, and I’ll admit, I’ve shared a bit on social media, but for the most part, we have tried to position ourselves in conversations in which we can hear what people are saying. We want to understand how a country can be so divided. We want to be able to speak peace into the hostility. But how? People are positioned. They are sunk in.  Nobody seems to want to move. Where do we start?

So, yesterday, when I walked into church and saw who would be our pastor for the day, I hugged him and said, “Yay, we’re going to get a good word!” I was being playful in greeting him, because he’s a dear friend, but my playfulness revealed my hope that God would speak a good word through him.

And guys, He did.

Now, let me just give my standard disclaimer. I am very distractible in church. My husband often asks me about his sermon — did his main point come through? What did I think about a particular illustration. I want to be generous to myself and say that 50% of the time I can give him a meaningful response. My mind often takes tangential journeys away from the sermon. So, I won’t mention the pastor’s name or try to claim what he actually said. I will just tell you what I heard.

Jesus reigns. Over everything. Period.

No political candidate reigns. No political party reigns. No particular country reigns. No particular church body reigns. I don’t reign.

Jesus reigns.

It has been rather tempting over the past days, weeks, and months to become aligned with a particular ‘side’, hasn’t it? I have heard Christ-followers on both sides (myself included) claim that certainly Christians “should” feel this way or that. And we’ve been making these claims waving our fists in the air at each other. We are passionate, are we not? We are passionate about politics, but are we just as passionate about our True Leader?

I gotta admit, I’ve been misdirected.

My friends in South Africa showed me what it looks like to be passionate about the One who reigns. They worshipped — I mean three hours or more of singing, dancing, clapping, marching worship! They breathe thankfulness and reverence as they walk through their days.

Me? I’ve been grumbly and judgmental. It’s almost as if I’ve forgotten that Jesus reigns over everything. Will he stop reigning if we turn and go our own way? Nope. We’ve seen story after story written in His Word about generations who have turned away to idols and godlessness. Yet, He reigns.

We’ve heard stories about how God has worked among peoples who are oppressed and disadvantaged. We know that He is a God who steps into difficult places and makes a way for His people. Will He stop now? No. He will continue to reign.

So, should we stand idly by? No. We should be engaged in the discourse of our community, our state, our country. However, we can be careful that what we speak gives honor to the One who reigns, and the only way to do that is to continually look to the written Truth.

I can’t rely on myself right now. Not in this emotionally-charged environment. I need to turn, once again, to what has been written.

“Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.”  

“Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought.”

“Be devoted to one another. Honor one another above yourselves.”

“Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.”

How about if we start there? What if Jesus-followers across the country and around the world just saw and loved the people in front of us? What if we stopped shaking our fists and really cared about individuals in ways that showed we were devoted to them? What if we cared about the widow, the fatherless, and the foreigner? What if we looked after the sick, the homeless, the marginalized, the disgraced? What impact would that have?

I’d like to find out. Wouldn’t you?

It is written; Christ is risen. Jesus, you are Lord of all.

“Stronger” Hillsong Worship

Reflection, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

A weekend rich with family kept me away from my laptop, as it should have. When everyone had left, I scrolled through pictures of the weekend and reflected on how lovely it had been to have so many that are precious to us together in one place. Instead of coming right to the keys, I basked in the moments for a bit. So, this morning, I bring you a piece from August 2016, dusted off on this October day in 2019. What a blessing it is to reflect.

After long absences from my blog, I never know what is going to come out of my fingers when I finally make the time to sit down. Will I start writing about why I haven’t written sooner?  what we have been doing with our time? what kind of students I am working with? How my health is (or is not) progressing? Or how I am looking forward to what’s coming up in the next few weeks?

I don’t know. Today I don’t feel a drive to write about any of the above, but I do feel compelled to get back to my blog. I love the discipline of writing every day, and I love how it causes me to reflect on how I am living my life. Writing causes me to pause and take stock of what is happening and what I think and feel about it.

Last weekend, I visited our two daughters who live in Boston. We did some sightseeing, yes, but we also had chunks of time when we were just together. We rode in the car from the city center to where we were staying. We visited coffee houses. We sat together on the couch and watched the Olympics and reality TV.  I found myself, in those moments of sitting with my adult daughters, reflecting on how my husband and I parented our children. From time to time my musings became audible.

“I wish I wouldn’t have freaked out over the little things so much.”

“I wish I would’ve taken more time to show you kids how to do more things.”

“I wish I would have stepped into some situations more thoughtfully.”

My girls were very gracious.  Mom, you had three babies in three years!  We were a lot to take care of!  You did your best! Mom, we turned out pretty good.

They’re right. We did have three babies in three years and we were very busy for many consecutive minutes.hours.days.weeks.months.years.  And, our kids are pretty great. We are blessed.

But, you know, twenty-five years flew by pretty darn quickly. And sometimes I even wished that the moments would speed by. Parenting is hard work. It is exhausting and sometimes overwhelming. And, in true Kristin fashion, I muscled through.

At one moment last weekend,  in the proximity of my girls, I heard myself say out loud, “You know what I wish the most? I wish I would’ve taken more time to reflect. I wish I would’ve been still long enough to say to myself, ‘How is this working out?'”

They were silent, so I said, “If I could give you one piece of advice right now it would be that: take time to be still and reflect.”

It took me a chronic illness and a six-month vacation from work to realize the power of stillness and reflection. My writing, which began as a crutch to help me hobble through the uncharted territory of unemployment, turned into a vehicle that helped me explore my thoughts and feelings about my current reality.  In exploring those thoughts and feelings, I have also explored my past and its impact on my life and the lives of those that I love. These explorations have, I believe, contributed to my healing — if not my actual physical healing, then certainly my mental and emotional healing.

Over the past eighteen months, I have gradually transitioned from not working at all to working about 20-25 hours a week. This was part of the goal all along.  I love teaching, and God has provided so many opportunities for me to work with students that don’t require me to have a full-time position. However, in transitioning back to more regular work, I don’t want to flush the lessons I learned during the stillness.

This is a challenge of real life, isn’t it? How do I find balance?  How do I get the fulfillment that comes from work while also taking the time to care for myself? How do I care for myself through exercise, healthy eating, and time for reflection, without overlooking the needs of the people closest to me?  How do I attend to the needs of my family while still finding time to connect with friends?  How do I make time to connect with friends and still have regular time to connect with God?

I sure don’t have a simple answer.  However, what I have learned is that, for me, one way to take the pulse on how I am doing with finding that balance, is to take some moments to reflect through writing. So, here I am, returning and reflecting so that I can continue to heal and continue to grow.

Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.

Psalm 116:7

Hope, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

After writing Monday’s post (found here), I stumbled across this one from March 2016, that uses some of the exact same language. This happens quite often — I find that I return to the same topics over and over again. I keep returning to the same lessons, the same messages, the same truths. So, here’s a message from 2016, brought forward to 2019…and I imagine, I’ll return again in the years to come.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been tempted to feel a little pessimistic lately. The presidential campaigns, acts of violence, international events, and their portrayal by the media could make a girl pretty cynical. Add to that the postings on Facebook and Twitter, and I might just walk around grumbling about the ‘terrible state of the world’.  I might even be heard muttering things like, “this country is a mess,” “it’s only going to get worse,” etc.

I start, actually, to sound like someone who has no hope.

But I do! I do have hope. I have hope for our country in the midst of the current political climate. I have hope amidst senseless acts of violence. I have hope regardless of how afraid and desperate the media would like to encourage me to be.

Why? Why do I have hope? Because our God — the God who created the world out of nothing, the God who designed the intricacies of the human body and mind, the God who provided His own Son to suffer the consequences of our sin, the God who has provided for me every day of my life, the God who has blessed me and my family beyond what we ever could ask or imagine — is still on the throne.

And he is not aloof. No. He is actively involved in the lives of His creation. He has seen every political speech, and He can discern every lie from every truth. He knows already who will be elected, and He has the power to make any result work together for good. He has watched every mass shooting; He has stood amidst the chaos as lives were cut short. He sees the motives of the assailants and the fear of the victims. He alone can comfort those who mourn and intervene to prevent future devastation. He knows how much money each of us has in our savings account and in our pocket; He knows our needs even before we ask. Not one of us is forgotten by God.

We have hope. God’s people have faced worse — 400 years of slavery in Egypt, 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, persecution, division, war, famine — and God has been able to step into these circumstances and work miracles.

He is still able.  He acts in spite of man’s foolishness, selfishness, and sinfulness. He acts because He loves us; He created us and calls us to His purposes.

I believe that one of those purposes is to be flag-bearers of hope in a world that is tempted to lose hope. I have been falling down on the job lately. I have not been communicating the hope that I have inside of me.  So, today I turn.

Hope with me, will you?

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13

Returning

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

No, I did not fall off the planet.  No, I did not abandon my blog.  Yes, I did stay away from it fro the longest stretch of time since I started writing it two years ago.  And, just like everything other discipline, the longer you stay away, the harder it is to get back on track.

When I was in high school, my band director said that we should practice every single day, even if only for 10-15 minutes.  He impressed on me the idea that every day I did NOT practice would take two days to get back to my current level of skill.  I think he wanted to scare me into consistent practice, and his method worked for a while.  However, it had an unintended consequence.  After I left the high school band, and didn’t play my flute for several months, I considered his math and decided that I didn’t have enough time in my life to get back to the level of skill I had currently enjoyed.  I mean, if I hadn’t played for 180 days, it would take me 36o days of consecutive practice just to get back on track!  I was exhausted just thinking about it!  I haven’t played my flute in years.

Exercise is similar, isn’t it?  I used to be a distance runner.  I completed two half-marathons and several 5K and 10K races.  It was typical for me to run 3-5 miles 5-6 days each week with occasional longer runs.  In fact, at one point, three miles felt like an “off” day — like I hadn’t really run at all.  I was in excellent physical condition.  At that point, I could not run for several days in a row (although that rarely happened) and still have the capacity to easily run five miles.  In fact, sometimes a break of three or four days would make me crave that run. When I finally had the time and opportunity to put on my running shoes, I would burst out the door with a ridiculous grin on my face, thrilled to be back at it.  However, now that illness has limited my ability to run, and I haven’t run three miles in  over three years, the idea of getting back to that level of fitness is a bit daunting.

I have a mixture of feelings as I sit here today.  I am thrilled to be back at my blog after a long absence, but I don’t really know how to get back to where I was.  What thread should I start with? health? work? teaching? writing? I’ve been wanting to post all week, but I keep finding other things to do — cook, clean, meet a friend for coffee, see a student, work on a puzzle, weed the garden.  This morning, I determined that I would finally sit down and write, but I wandered around the house a bit first.  What am I going to write about?  Where do I begin?

It took me a moment to remember my practice — my routine.  Drink smoothie. Check. Drink green tea. Check. Brew black tea. Check. Sit down, Kristin, sit down. Open your Bible study. That’s right.  Read it.  Turn to the Word. Psalm 107:20: “He sent forth his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave.”

Yes, yes He did.  He sent forth his Word and rescued me from the grave. Let’s start there today.  It’s not difficult to go back to God’s Word, even after a long absence.  You don’t have to build stamina.  You don’t have to get back to a former level of performance.  “Behold, He makes all things new.”  He breathes His breath of life into us each moment that we turn to Him.

We give ourselves all kinds of laws and expectations, don’t we? I’m going to eat healthfully, exercise five times a week, blog every day, etc. Our intentions are good, but often, when we don’t meet our expectations, we beat ourselves up with the shoulda coulda woulda messages.  These messages have unintended consequences.  Instead of propelling us back to positive disciplines, they bury us in shame and prevent us from doing what we want to do most.

So, today I turn.  I turn back to His Word.   I turn away from self-blame and self-shame and embrace the God who healed me and rescued me from the grave.  “His mercies are new every morning,” and my mercies can be, too.

Lamentations 3:23

Great is your faithfulness.

The manna-Giver

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Am I “more consumed with conserving and accumulating manna than in honoring the manna-Giver”?  That’s the question that stopped me in my tracks this morning.

Let’s take a stroll back to Exodus 16.  The Israelites, newly emancipated from Egypt, fresh from their crossing of the Red Sea, quickly forget these miraculous works of God and start complaining because they are thirsty and hungry.  They don’t say, “God, you brought us out of Egypt; you’re amazing!  You parted the Red Sea; you’re incredible! We know you will provide food and drink!”  No, they say, “He should’ve left us to die in Egypt, at least there we would’ve had food.”

Stupid ungrateful Israelites.

But God, being God, casually brings fresh water from a rock and rains down manna from the sky.  You know, casually.  And He tells Moses that they should only gather what they need for each day because God will gladly provide them enough.  They don’t have to horde or worry. God, who got them out of Egypt, who parted a whole sea, who brought water from a rock, who made bread fall from the sky, said He would provide enough each day. But, the Israelites decided to, you know, just grab a little extra to make sure.

Stupid untrusting Israelites.

So, my (your?) story is not too different.  I wasn’t exactly a slave in Egypt, but I have been a slave to many things — my eating disorder way back in the 80s, my fears about money, my need to control, …. and as the king said, “etcetera, etcetera…” I didn’t walk across the dry bed of an ocean or anything, but I did witness the freeing words of Christ come out of the mouth of an agnostic therapist, I have witnessed over and over God’s financial provision when it didn’t make any sense at all, I have been taken away from my life of soldiering into a time of rest…Etcetera, Etcetera.  And still, like the Israelites, I complain and fret…

Stupid ungrateful me.

For some reason I look back on my life of slavery and remember how proud I was to be so thin, forgetting that I couldn’t think/remember/drive/communicate. I look longingly at the times that I kicked butts and took names, forgetting that my self-sufficiency felt lonely and isolated.  I long for financial security and try to store away extra, forgetting how God has consistently and faithfully provided for all of my needs.

Stupid untrusting me.

The manna-Giver has rained down bread from heaven so many times in our married life. When we had young children and seemingly un-payable medical bills, He provided. When we went to the seminary, people we didn’t even know provided for our tuition and even Christmas gifts for our children. When an error in withholding resulted in a tax bill that we couldn’t imagine ever paying, He met that need. When, just this week, one of our children didn’t know how to find the money to pay for summer tuition, within hours, a scholarship was provided to pay the bill in full. Etcetera, Etcetera.

And yet I am tempted, just like the Israelites to, instead of praising and thanking the manna-Giver, become “consumed with conserving and accumulating manna.”

This is one more area where I need to “resist the urge to continue”.  When I am “bent on turning” to go back to those days of slavery, I need stop, dead in my tracks, and remember the mighty works of God who has freed me, fed me, and provided for me in every way.

I can trust that His character does not change.

I can trust that He holds me in the palm of His hand.

 

Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, 21 to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Ephesians 3: 20-21

 

Marginally Speaking, revisit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

This post was written in April 2016 — after the first period on the couch and before the second. I was in motion, and I chose to reduce the amount of time I spent on the phone to put more margin into my life. However, my recent stay on the couch may have returned me to some old habits, so I am re-visiting this post in October 2019 to inspire a return to that practice as get back of the couch.

Sometimes when God nudges us to make a change, we make that change and then slowly over time notice the benefits. Other times, we get an immediate indicator that we are heading in the right direction. That happened for me this week.

If you read my recent post, Margin, you know that I decided to turn off my phone from 8pm to 8am every day. I made that decision just two days ago while sitting right here on this futon doing my Bible study. I blogged about it then went through my day. I got home Tuesday night, played all my turns on Words With Friends, checked Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, then turned off my phone a bit before 8.

I wasn’t quite ready to go to bed, so I sat next to my husband, crocheting and watching Bizarre Foods. We watched and laughed at its ridiculousness, then I crawled into bed and settled in to read.

Typically after an evening of watching TV and constantly checking my phone, I can read for thirty to sixty minutes before falling asleep. Not Tuesday. Nope. I got into my comfortable position, opened my book, and made it through two or three pages before I had to surrender to sleep. I slept hard.

I woke up the next morning around 7:15am. Usually, the first thirty to sixty minutes of my day are spent in bed checking email, messages, Facebook, etc. But it was 7:15, and I had made a commitment to keep the phone off until 8am, so I crawled out of bed, showered, made my breakfast beverages, and dressed for a day of Bible study, teaching and tutoring. Around 8, I checked messages and emails and noticed that I had missed a call, so I messaged the friend who had rang me, talked to my husband for a few minutes before he left for work, then settled in to prepare for Bible study.

The phone rang. The same friend called to explain why she had called — to talk through the fact that her day was not going the way that she had planned. She’d had an interruption that was causing her to spend an extra two hours on the road to retrieve an item that had been left on our campus. I commiserated with her then hung up to go back to my Bible study about margins.

I started reading then thought to myself, “You’re dressed.” Yes, that’s right, I was dressed and ready to leave for Bible study, and I didn’t have to leave for another 30 or 40 minutes. I turned back to my reading.

“You know, you could  get that item and meet your friend half way.”

That one wasn’t me.

How do I know? Because I argued back, “but I’m supposed to be at Bible study in half in hour.”  I went back to my reading.

“What would happen if you were late?”

“Well, I’m always late.”

Sigh.

I picked up my phone, made arrangements, and started driving.

So, here’s my analysis of what happened. If I had not decided to add in a margin to my life — some white space — by turning off my phone from 8p to 8a, I might have still been lying in bed when the friend called. I would not have been dressed. I would have been reading Facebook posts and playing WWF. I wouldn’t have had the space in my day to drive twenty minutes to help her out. But, I did make that decision. I did put the margin in my life.

And the very next morning after making that decision, God provided a tangible reward — an opportunity to use that same time, the time I’d been filling up, to help a friend.

You might think that my friend is the only one who benefitted. Not true. The whole time I was driving I was thinking out loud, “Really? You’re gonna respond to my decision that quickly? You want to affirm this decision that strongly?”  I was flabbergasted. I was stunned to notice God working in my life in such a way.

And here’s the nugget, guys. I noticed because I wasn’t face-down into my phone. Yes, this is hugely convicting and embarrassing. I have spent far too much time in my phone. I’ve known this. I just didn’t want to make a change.

And, I’ve got to be real honest here and say that it’s been just as hard as I thought it would be. After 8pm last night, I kept mentally reaching for my phone to check for messages, see if everyone was ok, or if I’d missed anything. I had to continue to remind myself that I had already turned it off for the night and that everyone would be ok without me for twelve hours.

The hardest part, however, wasn’t the lack of checking in, it was the awareness of all the thoughts I have routinely shoved down by occupying myself with my phone. With my phone turned off, lots of ugliness creeps to the surface — regrets and questions about the past, worries about finances, personal insecurities, and all sorts of stuff I have chosen not to think about. With my phone down, I can not ignore these nagging concerns. I am forced to look them in the face. It’s not pleasant, guys, to look at all that stuff. It makes me feel yucky. I don’t like feeling yucky.

Last night after I put my book down, I closed my eyes because I thought I was ready for sleep. I was tired, but as I was lying in bed, trying to sleep, the ugliness started playing out on my mind screen. “Ugh,” I thought, “why!?!?!?”  I felt overwhelmed.  In desperation I said to God, “Is this real? Is my memory real? Please replace these images with what is true!”

Did you see that? I didn’t shove the images down. I held them up to God and asked for His reality check. Why was I able to do that? Because I’ve put a margin into my life. I’ve left some white space, expecting that He will step in and fill it. I am acknowledging that the story I am writing is rough and needs the hand of the Master. I need Him to speak into my life — to offer encouragement, correction, and guidance. I haven’t been leaving room for that. I’ve been writing all the way to the edge of the paper.

I’m a mere two days in, guys, but this change is so important that God is already dramatically stepping in. It’s like He’s been standing by waiting for the opportunity.

Let me just be quiet, so I can hear Him.

Speak for your servant is listening.”

I Sam 3:10

Return to the Lord, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

This post was written days after Easter in March 2016. Since then, I’ve been on many mountaintops and into far more valleys than I ever saw coming. It’s the rhythm of life, and He continues to be faithful in April 2019.

Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds.

Hosea 6:1

Yesterday I celebrated my 50th birthday by going to the gym, shopping with my husband, and going out to dinner. All day long family and friends sent me their well-wishes. If ever I felt loved, yesterday was the day.  I was flying high and enjoying every minute of celebration, but you know the saying, “what goes up, must come down.”

Today is not my birthday. I woke to my typical aches and pains; maybe they were even a little worse than usual after all my merry-making yesterday. I went to the chiropractor for an adjustment, then traveled to meet my in-laws for a birthday lunch. It was one last glimpse at the mountaintop before I got a long look at the valley.

About a hour ago, a phone call signaled a continuing family conflict, the taxman affirmed what we thought would be bad news, and then the baking project I was working on didn’t yield as much as I was hoping it would. Three strikes and I plummeted off that mountain of Easter/birthday love into the valley of “how am I going to fix this mess?”

In frustration I cried out, looking “to the hills from whence cometh my help.” God, why do you seem so far from me when just yesterday you seemed so close?  I mean, didn’t I celebrate Easter two days ago with shouts of “He is risen, He is risen indeed, Alleluia”? Didn’t I go straight from celebrating Your victory over sin, death, and the grave into a virtual love-fest? Why is my faithfulness so fleeting? Why Am I so quick to forget your goodness?  Why do I think that the God of the Universe, who willingly sent His only Son to die for my sins, won’t also walk with me through family difficulties, financial trials, and a tiny little thing like mis-sized cinnamon rolls?

Because I am bent on turning. When the road gets a little rough, I assume I’ve got to get tough. I don’t often consider that God has placed a rough road in front of me so that He can assure me of His presence and provision. I forget that He has carried us through sickness, joblessness, tragedy, and loss to much better places than we ever thought possible.

Just this morning, a mere nine hours ago, I read in my Bible study of Hosea the words posted above, that “God has torn us to pieces, but He will heal us.”  I read that way before the triple threat of a mere hour ago.

Jennifer Rothschild asks in the Hosea study, “What is the greatest affliction God has placed or allowed in your life?” I listed a few things that have been quite challenging. Her next question, “Can you see how that wounding has been part of greater healing?” My response? “Absolutely.”

Can I see how the situations placed before us right now might be part of greater healing? Yes. Do I wish that they weren’t happening? Yes. Do I trust God enough to watch and see how He works even in these difficult times? Obediently, at this moment, I say yes.

I refuse to lose hope just because I am sitting in the valley after a delightful trip to the mountaintop. I’m not going to fashion a golden calf. I’m going to trust that God is still working, just like He was Sunday and yesterday. I’m going to to believe that any bumps in our path have been crafted by Him to draw us closer to, not further from, Him. I’m going to believe that although right now we seem wounded, in just a little while He will heal us.

And won’t He just do it.

One of those days….

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Did you ever have one of those days?  I had one this week.

It actually started the night before.  My husband was out of town, so I stayed up a little too late watching Netflix and crocheting.  Yes, I know, I am a rebel. Full disclosure — I was also sipping wine.

I set my alarm for 7am when I crawled into bed around 11:30pm because I had a physical therapy appointment the next morning at 8:15 about thirty minutes away from my home. (No, I don’t need more time to get ready.  My PT knows that I roll out of bed, fix my tea, and then drive to her.  I don’t always even comb my hair.)

When my alarm went off, I groaned, creakily rolled out of bed and realized that since my husband was not home, I would have to be the one to take the dog out for his morning duties.  That accomplished, I came back in and got dressed.  (Yes, of course I took my dog outside, on a college campus, in my pajamas. The students don’t even point and laugh any more.)

I dressed, made my smoothie, a cup of super strong black tea, and my special morning green tea laced with lemon, cinnamon, and honey.  Since it was nearing time to leave, I crated the dog and started shuttling my parade of beverages out to the car.  I put a water bottle and my black tea in the cup holders.  Then, I wedged my smoothie behind my purse on the passenger seat.  My green tea?  I set it on the floor of the driver’s side for ‘just a moment’ while I ran back to close the door.

I know you see what’s coming…and this is only the beginning.

I shut the door, ran back to the car, and climbed in, forgetting that I had placed my tea on the floor thirty seconds earlier.  My size 9s kicked the dainty little cup and dumped six ounces of sticky mess onto the floor.  Since I was now running short on time, I reached in the back seat and grabbed the sheet we use to protect the seat from golden retriever hair.  I shoved it onto the driver’s side floor and proceeded to my appointment.

When I arrived at the physical therapy office after my thirty minute drive, the office manager greeted me with, “I have you down for 9:15.” “Oh, ok, mind if I hang out here for an hour?” “Not at all.”

I pushed away the thoughts of an extra hour of sleep or drinking my beverages at home and found a seat on the couch in the waiting room.  I checked my emails, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, then set my phone beside me on the couch and grabbed a magazine.  When the magazine, a local healthy living piece, suggested that my ground was ready to plant peas and spinach, I leaned over to get a pen out of my purse to make a note.  Just then I heard a swoosh-clunk and realized that my phone had slid down the space next to the cushion on the couch.

I slid my arm down the same space and realized that I couldn’t reach my phone to retrieve it.  I stood up to remove the cushion to get better access only to find that the cushion wasn’t the removable kind.  I got on my hands and knees to reach under the couch only to find that the bottom fabric was taut and secure.  After another attempt to fit my arm down the crack, I looked over at the office manager — yes, the same one who had informed me that I was an hour early — and asked her for a little help.

Together we examined the couch.  We reached into the couch.  We tipped the couch forward.  We tipped the couch backward.  Finally we discovered a small tear in the underlining of the couch.  If we tipped the couch backward then lifted one end higher than the other, we could coax my phone to the opening and free it.  Mission accomplished. Phone freed.

But wait, there’s more.

I drove directly from my appointment to cast my vote in the presidential primary.  That took a grand total of ten minutes — no complications.  Phew.  So, I drove home to clean the tea out of the car.  Just as I entered campus, my car informed me that I had forgotten to get gas.  It was gasping on the remaining fumes.  So, I turned around and drove back out to get gas, then returned home to deal with the sticky mess.

The sheet I had shoved under my feet was one of those cheap microfiber ones, so it hadn’t really absorbed anything. It had just provided a barrier between my shoes and the mess.  I grabbed a towel and started wiping up the goop when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my low back.  I slowly rose to standing to assess the situation.  “Come on, I gotta clean up this mess!  I don’t have time for an injury!”  In fact, I didn’t just want to clean up the tea, I wanted to wipe down the interior of the car, maybe run a vacuum, then put a clean sheet on the back seat.

After all, a student was coming to walk Chester with me, and the Dean requires that we take him off campus to walk, so we were going to have to take my car, and I didn’t want this student to see the evidence of my carelessness.  I walked around a bit, grabbed the vacuum and a wet soapy wash cloth and went back to finish the job.  By the time I was finished, the car, good ol’ Suze Cruze, was looking quite snappy — at least on the inside.

However, after maneuvering a couch and cleaning out a car, my body was experiencing some post-traumatic stress and pain.  I had fifteen minutes until the student would arrive, so I iced.  Then we walked. Then I iced some more.

Then I tutored.  Then I iced.  Then I tutored.  Then I iced.

I’m happy to say that the following day my chiropractor was able to put everything back where it belonged.  I wish I could say that he also was able to repair the disfunction in my brain that misunderstood my appointment time, forgot about the tea, neglected putting my phone in the pocket in my purse that was especially designed just for phones, and overlooked an empty gas tank. I mean, he’s a chiropractor, not a miracle worker.

I’m also happy to say that I was able to laugh my way through all of this.  I hope I made you laugh a little bit, too.

Proverbs 3:4

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

still learning, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 4 Comments

after writing about what some of my students are learning on Monday, I re-discovered this post, first written almost three years ago, about the lessons I have learned from my children and my students. re-examined on February 28, 2019

Parenting and teaching have changed me. At one time I was quick to pass judgment on apparent ‘misbehavior’, I often fell prey to either/or reasoning, and I saw most arguments as very black and white. However, through more than two decades of parenting and almost that many years of interacting with students, my firm — almost rigid — beliefs about almost everything have been challenged and re-shaped.

One of the lessons that my kids and students taught me is that there is always more to a situation than first meets the eyes. Let’s say a student walks into my class late, unprepared, and seemingly unengaged. It would be easy to assume that this student is apathetic about my class specifically, and perhaps education in general. However, a closer look might reveal that the student was doing everything he could to get to my class on time, but his parents had their own timetable — they made him take care of a younger sibling all night, they got home from work late in the morning, and then made my student wait while they showered before they brought him to school. My student wanted to complete the homework, but his sibling was demanding. He wanted to be on time, but he had no alternate way to get to class.

Or, let’s say one of my children is snarky, disrespectful, and seemingly bent on opposing every direction I give. I might assume that my role is to demand respect, give firmer demands, and heap on consequences, but a closer look, and some long hours of listening, may uncover some deep pain that the child is afraid, even ashamed, to share with me. Acting out is not the problem; it’s a symptom.

Another lesson I’ve learned from my kids and my students is that there is always a third option. “Mrs. Rathje, should I study education or medicine?”  “Mom, should I run track or play soccer?” “Would it be better if I took this job or if I didn’t work at all?” My answer — “Is there a third option?”  Why not consider a career as a nurse educator? Is there any other sport or activity that seems interesting to you? Is there a different job you could consider? more schooling? service learning?

Too often I have found myself trapped in either/or thinking:

  • Do I want to be a vegetarian or eat meat?
  • Am I a night person or a morning person?
  • Do I like contemporary or traditional worship?
  • Am I conservative or liberal?
  • Should I teach or write?
  • Am I a Spartan or a Wolverine.

Don’t be ridiculous, that last one was just to see if you were still paying attention.

In my earlier life, I found it safest to ‘choose a side’. I was forming my identity, after all. I wanted to find my place. It felt too risky to remain fluid. I wanted the security of saying that I was Lutheran or Republican. I wanted a box to check. I was anti-Disney, pro-Life, for the environment, and against dying my hair.

Here’s the thing: putting myself in those boxes positioned me against those who put themselves in other boxes. If I liked only wheat bread, I might judge someone who only bought white bread. If I only shopped at Kroger, I might look down on someone who only shopped at Wal-Mart. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to listen to why they preferred white bread or Wal-Mart. I knew I was right. No discussion was needed.

My attitude limited me. I unwittingly cut myself off from all kinds of people and experiences.  

Enter my children. And my students. Early on they were willing to listen to whatever I had to say. They were pliable. They wanted to please me. But over time, as they developed minds of their own, they began to question my positions. They began to challenge my opinions.

How dare they? I did not like this at all!! After all, I had been being right for so long. If I allowed myself to think differently, I was admitting that I had been — gasp — wrong!

But not really. That was some more either/or thinking. Here is what I have come to believe: once upon a time I held certain opinions based on what I knew at the time. Over the years, I have had many experiences that have caused me to re-think those positions. Based on what I know now, some of my opinions have changed. That, my friends is called human growth and development.

And here is the most important thing that I have learned. Life is complex. We can hold conflicting truths. I can, for instance, like the story line of The Lion King and still hate the over- commercialization of Disney and its portrayal of female characters. These opinions can co-exist. I can understand the health benefits of whole grains and still appreciate a nice loaf of French white bread. I can appreciate Wal-Mart’s low prices and still object to the business practices of the Waltons. I can eat both meat and vegetables, just vegetables, or choose a third option — vegetarianism on the weekdays and carnivorism on the weekends.

The amazing human mind is capable of far more complexity than we give it credit for. We limit its capacity to grow when we compartmentalize ideology into false dichotomies.

You might think I feel afraid now that I’ve moved outside of my previously confining boxes. Not at all. I find more room to breathe out here.

I’m telling you — a mother can learn a lot from her kids, and a teacher often learns from her students.

It is not only the old who are wise,
    not only the aged who understand what is right.

Job 32:9