Trust

I am not a great writer. Or a great thinker. Maybe not a great "anything." But I'm good at a few things. Baking. Taking care of my kids. I even think I'm a pretty good Occupational Therapist. But I'm not very good at change. And I get frustrated very easily when things don't go like I think they should (which, of course, changes never happen when and how we think they should...).
Well, big changes are happening for me in 2014. In case you haven't heard yet, I am leaving the clinic to pursue a teaching career. Starting January 6, I will be an Assistant Professor of Occupational Therapy at the University of Indianapolis. (Read my last post about feeling like I'm jumping off a cliff... that was 3 days after my interview). This has all come up rather unexpectedly, by invitation, and about 2 years sooner than I thought it would happen. But it is something I have been working toward, thinking about, and yes, praying for, for a number of years now.
So, the one word I have chosen for 2014 is TRUST. I have not been a great "truster" in the past three years. I have been a bit off-balance in my faith walk ever since taking the job at Balance Point (pardon the pun). But God has been ever working, behind the scenes, to make me into the person he needs me to be.
So I am trusting. I am re-learning how to be a person of faith. I am hopeful, and grateful, and looking forward to the future. And that is a better place than I have been in for a long time.

Transitions

Whew! I somehow got locked out of my blog for about 6 weeks. No idea how. But I think maybe it was for the best, as I have been far, far too busy to think about posting anything. Pretty much, I have been far, far too busy to think in general. Life has been moving pretty fast. I completed the grad school assignments finishing my 7th out of 15 course requirements on my journey from my Masters degree to my clinical Doctorate degree. As part of that, I had two presentations, one to a community group and one to occupational therapists at the state conference. I have also been confronted with a number of situations convincing me that life just keeps going forward, and you can't go back. With all the craziness of the last 3 years, I have been contemplating how to reclaim who I am - retain the essence of who I was intended to be, hang on to a shred of my faith, stay true to the things I want to be and do... all while continuing to grow, and stretch, and live life with joy as I continue to become the person God intended me to be. I am about to become an empty nester again, as our daughter is about to move out; and I can see the winds of change in my career, and it looks less like a transition and more like a jump off a cliff, hoping there's a safety net or a deep pool of water or SOMETHING to catch me.
I took a walk about a week ago, at sunset, and it was pretty incredible the way a fall evening spoke to my soul. The moon through the bare trees and the colors of the sunset over the fall leaves left me feeling speechless and remembering that everything happens for a reason. And things happen in the right timing, even if it is not the timing I was expecting or that I would prefer. And, despite all the evil in the world and the seemingly pointless and meaningless and PAINFUL things that happen, beautiful things keep happening too. Hope keeps coming through in the most unexpected places. Like, between bare trees and through darkening skies. In patients you thought would never get better or journeys you thought would never come to an end. Like, situations that sucked all the joy out of your life suddenly being revealed for the catalyst it is that makes you get off your rear and do something different, that you never would have done, if it hadn't been for the joy-sucking experience pushing you. I know I'm being cryptic; I can't tell all, but hopefully I will be able to soon. Maybe you are stuck in a joy-less place right now. My prayer for you is that you will be able to trust and have faith, find joy where you are, and that soon you will see some transitions starting to occur, like blades of grass springing through concrete, or a beautiful moon shining through bare trees, and know that there is a reason. There is a reason. There is a reason.

Simple Living and a Cat

Ginger in her Happy Place

My son has been reminding me of how far we have gotten from our simple Christian living roots. Namely, we  recently paid to have our windows washed and to have our dead trees taken down. These are things we might have done ourselves in younger days (and when living in places where the trees and windows weren't scarily high). We still tend to be do-it-yourselfers for most maintenance, but we also are a little more willing to hire things done. It often becomes a matter of choosing between the economics of money and the economics of time. Hence, the struggling with our desire to be simple living Christians and our need to stay sane in our fast-paced world of careers and activities.

But it was our 16-year-old kitty Ginger who this week has highlighted for me the complexities of the choices we make, how (more often than not) the lines get blurred, and that our choices are rarely as clear as black-and-white. It was not her ability to relax or play when there is work to do, or to enjoy bacon although she is already portly. Though, those aspects of her personality do remind me to stop and smell the roses from time to time. Instead, it is that she is currently deathly ill and spending her second night at the vet's office in hopes of reviving her a bit to bring her home and enjoy a little more time with her. And the question of the week is, when do you stop paying to save a life? The economics of the value of the life of a cat are glaring me in the face right now. On the one hand, I love her dearly and am missing so much her begging round my feet while I fix dinner or rubbing on my ankles while I comb my hair in the morning. On the other hand, she is suffering greatly and in pain with pancreatitis, and antibiotics and IV fluids and meds have failed to improve her situation in the last 24 hours, though she at least is not worsening. And while I have shed tears over her rapid demise, I also have wondered: how much is this costing me? And how much more am I willing to spend?

Sadly, though I am asking (and have the luxury to ask) this question about a cat, many folks have to ask this question about their health care. And I'm talking about right here, with my own patients. I will often finish an evaluation and recommend a treatment plan, only to have the patient ask, how many times do I have to come back? how much will it cost me? can we stretch it out a bit or can I come less often and still get some benefit out of it? Because they are counting the dollars of their co-pay versus getting groceries or paying for gas for the week, and wondering if their last paycheck will come and if it will be enough, and when they can feel well enough to get back to work and get another paycheck. So the economics of life often get in the way of our altruistic ideas of what we would like to do to save a life, return a person to function, improve the quality of life, etc. How hard must it be for those who have to make economic decisions about the health care of a loved one? Just some more musings that are all mixed up in my contemplation tonight. Sigh.

I am having a hard time deciding what to do about my kitty - after all, I firmly believe that if you take a pet you are committed to them through thick and thin for life. I don't want to ditch on her. Nor do I want her to suffer. Nor do I want a $3000 vet bill. I don't know what the answer is. But I keep struggling forward. I want to be a simple living Christian, a good wife and mom, and a good pet owner. And I do try to make these decisions remembering grace, mercy, and love as the first rule. Just as I most assuredly need the grace and mercy of a loving God tonight.

The Kingdom of ME

The recent political hoopla has me thinking about opinions. Everybody has 'em. And everybody wants to share theirs with you. And you are an idiot/leftist/fascist/not-a-Christian/misguided sop if you don't think like they do. Why is it that we think that if the other person doesn't think like me, they must not have thought carefully about their beliefs? It is possible for thoroughly committed, Bible-believing, thoughtful Christians to come to entirely opposite beliefs about the same issue. The most discouraging thing about it is that people accuse each other of being stupid at best, and anti-Christian at worst, if they don't think like "me." Allow me a moment to whine: I am tired of attending a church or reading on Facebook or being in a conversation with someone (who assumes they know my beliefs) who dogmatically claim that theirs is the only Christian belief. Do they not realize that their assertions, by their very nature, exclude me and erect a barrier that keeps me from fully participating in community with them (because of how unwelcome I feel)? Do they not realize that others, who haven't spent their whole lives in the church, might turn around and walk out the door and never come back when they hear the exclusive, condemnatory, smug, judgmental tone they use? And then... and then... I hear myself using the same tone, and realize I have once again turned the Kingdom of God into the Kingdom of Me.

Because, after all, who of us has a corner on the truth? Who of us so fully understands the mind of God, and all the implications of Scripture, so thoroughly that they can judge and condemn others? I would not want to set myself up as judge, jury, and executioner. God holds me accountable for my actions, and I would rather be known for being merciful than being judgmental. Is there absolute truth? Absolutely. Can I take part in that and share in that knowledge? Yes. What truths did Jesus hold as absolute? Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself. Well, guess that makes it awful hard to judge him/her. Also makes it awful hard to let him/her go hungry. Be kind, tenderhearted, forgiving, even as God in Christ forgave you. Makes it hard to justify mouthing off to them, no matter what I think. What if I instead listened to them? What if I instead found ways of working really hard to understand them, to love them? What could the world be like?

And Mom said it best: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. And that's all I have to say about that.

Zombies, Joseph Kony, and the White Savior Industrial Complex

I have been thinking about the Zombie Apocalypse lately. A lot. I mean, I even asked my husband what would be the best physical location for our survival from the zombies. I was thinking, barricade ourselves in the basement. He said, go up; zombies can't climb. OK, says I, but we will have to wait until our neighbors are dead or abscond because our staircase is too wide open to barricade (in case they learn to climb). We will have to commandeer one of their easier-to-barricade homes. Then it occurs to me, ZOMBIES AREN'T REAL. And I have just had an entirely pointless, but fun and nerdy, conversation.

Why do I spend so much time thinking about zombies? I blame the recent season finale of a zombie-infested TV show. But I think zombies (and shows about them) inform us about what would happen if we take certain negative aspects of our present society to their logical conclusion. Like, what heinous creatures people (namely, I) could become if threatened, or if our resources dry up. Or, how choices aren't always clear cut between right and wrong, good and evil (shooting your friend may be a blessing if the alternative is that he is going to become a zombie).  But the zombie threat also makes me think about the strength of the human spirit, how hope always seems to spring new, how goodness always seems to come out in unlikely places and times - sharing of resources, helping children, comforting the grieving, offering a cold drink or cool rag to the suffering.

I have also been doing a lot of thinking about Joseph Kony, and the organization Invisible Children, which has been working to bring his heinous crimes to light. And, about the backlash that has said the White Savior Industrial Complex should MYOB, because all the white Americans just want to appease their own guilt and are doing more harm than good. It frustrates and saddens me. Yes, I know that poverty (and its resulting vulnerability - yes, I think the LRA problem is about poverty) is complex; poverty is more than just a lack of money. It involves generations of structural sin, unjust power structures, habitual evil, a lack of infrastructure including education, healthcare, and shelter from natural disasters. Poverty wasn't created in a day, and it won't be solved in a day. Or even a generation.

The LRA is a lot like the Zombie Apocalypse - at least to those who experienced it. Homes destroyed, families torn apart, parents killed by the hand of their children, refugees seeking shelter and places to hide. Jesus was all about helping the poor - you can't read Jesus and gloss over that (see Matthew 25). Jesus condemned unjust structures, but he called individuals to see the need in front of them and respond. The problem is, in today's global economy, the whole world is in front of us - all the time. And once made aware of the issues, Jesus is pretty clear - it then becomes our responsibility. What's a white girl to do? I can't stop the Zombie Apocalypse. I also can't sit on my hands and do nothing; my faith won't let me do that. Neither do I want to be part of something that causes more harm than good in the name of trying to help. But I really think that the White Savior Industrial Complex language was created by someone - or a group of someones - who were criticizing those who were at least trying to do SOMETHING, because they (the language creators) felt guilty about dong NOTHING and wanted to appease THEIR OWN guilt. Granted, there are a lot of people out there who want to throw money at something and walk away, thinking they have done their part. But I think there are many, many more who genuinely want to help. Wess Stafford, President of Compassion International, is fond of saying that if poverty were just a problem of money, he truly believes that the good people of the world would have solved it by now through their giving. But it's more complex than that.

Which brings me back to the question - what's a white girl to do? Here's what I know:
1) There ARE good people out there, doing the right thing. They are asking local communities what they need and doing their best to respond. Think Haiti after the earthquake. Think Mother Theresa in India. Sometimes the right thing isn't so hard to spot.
2) Have some simple rules for doing good: Team up with an organization that has a proven track record for doing it right. Compassion International. International Rescue Committee. Amnesty International. Check (a) the financial track record of the organization - how much given goes to actual programs? (b) does the money actually do what the organization says it is going to do - do they get results? and (c) what is the policy for involving the people of the area in the decision making process?
3) Let's talk nice to each other. I admire Jason Russell (recent psychotic break notwithstanding) and Invisible Children for making a promise to an abused and suffering boy (Jacob) and then striving for 10 years to keep that promise - making mistakes, working with what they have, trying to get past who they were as white Americans to reach out to someone. I think that, after 10 years, we can safely say that they put the White Savior Industrial Complex ideas aside, lost a little of their naivete, and got down to the business of being committed. How many of us can say that?

I think it's important for all of us to strive to reach beyond our own cultural, class, and racial limitations. Because, first and foremost, we are humans. Sometimes the issues are really complex. And then, sometimes, it's really clear. Like, right in front of us.

A Picture of our Just-A-Minute Moment

My Just a Minute moment - I just ran across this picture and thought I'd share!

Sometimes I get so jazzed by what people are doing...

Sometimes I get so jazzed by what people are doing in the world to make a difference. I got a letter the other day about what's going on at my daughter's Compassion child's development center in India. Here's a sample:

Girls don't have to get married in arranged marriages before age 18, because Compassion takes care of them.

Kids get to sleep off the pavement, because Compassion provides them a mat and bedding. The sleeping bags shelter them from the rain and cold, too.

Kids get one full meal a day, which they never had at home.

Kids carry clean water home from the Compassion center; otherwise they would have none, or would have to walk miles and hours each day to get water.

Kids have drug addicts, alcoholics, child abusers, and criminals for parents. Compassion provides them with Christian mentors who show them another way. Every child hears about Jesus.

OUR LETTERS ARE CHANGING THE WORLD. A 12th grader almost dropped out of school because of failing grades. One letter from a sponsor kept the child in school.

I want to change the world. I am doing it every day, through Compassion.

B.