Puzzled

The kids in our kindergarten class really seem to enjoy puzzles. I enjoy watching them and talking with them about what they are doing.

Over the years, I've noticed that they all do the same thing. A kid will try a puzzle piece in a particular place. He (or she) will think the shape or the color is right and will try it. It won't fit. He will try it in another place or lay it aside. Then, a mere minute or so later, he will try to place the same piece in the same wrong place. This can happen several times as he is working on his puzzle.

As I watched this phenomenon play out again recently, something popped into my mind. A few lines from a poem I wrote ages ago:

My life is like a jigsaw puzzle and the pieces don't seem to fit.
The more I look at each and every piece, the more confused I get.

And then I thought about our lives at this particular point. I keep looking at individual pieces. I keep trying to place those pieces in the same places that didn't work the first (or second or one-hundredth) time.

God has given us all these different pieces, leading us through all these different experiences to get us to the place we are now. We are trying to wedge those pieces into the place we think they fit. But they don't.

God sees the bigger picture. He knows how all these pieces fit together to fulfill His will. We need to keep collecting pieces and following when we see where He is placing them.

Maybe that teaching or writing or editing or other experience doesn't fit in that "logical to us" place. Maybe it fits into a greater place that we don't even know yet.

A particular phrase from Ephesians 3:20 keeps coming to mind: [He] who is able to do above and beyond all that we ask or think according to the power that works within us. More than we can ask or think. Some translations say "ask or imagine."

I don't know about you...but I can think and imagine all kinds of things. And God is able to do above and beyond anything I can think of, as His power is at work.

I'm not sure how all these puzzle pieces will fit together. But God's big picture is glorious. We must trust, wait, and stop focusing on all those little pieces.

More than we can ask or think. I'm so excited.

What Are You Gonna Do Now?

The other day I was going to observe in a kindergarten classroom. This year has been the year of observations. I've had to do several for my university classes. This particular day, I had to be at the school by 8:00 am. And Cindy needed to go into the office to work. We left the house early (at least much earlier than we usually do). We stopped for breakfast at a convenience store; that means I got coffee in a cup with one of those plastic lids.

I dropped Cindy off and sat in the parking lot for a while to drink my coffee...before going on to the school. Something happened. I'm still not sure what. I bumped/jostled the cup; it tipped; I tried to steady it; the lid flew off; the coffee poured down my leg and into the floor of my truck. At least a third of a large cup of coffee. Hot coffee.

I didn't know what to do. I had a wet pants leg and a soggy floorboard. And I was due at the school in about 45 minutes. I could not go home to change and get back to the school in time.

I yelled a little. I panicked a little. I took a deep breath. Then I made a plan. I drove to a store to get paper towels. I sopped up as much as I could from the floor. By then my leg began to dry. And my pants were dark so the spill didn't really show much.

Why this story? Well, I've been experiencing a lot of these types of things lately.

Programs that won't work. Lost things that I just had a couple of minutes before. A frozen computer that means I just lost unsaved work. Over and over I keep having these things.

I think God's been trying to teach me something. These things happen. They are usually small. They are always frustrating. They often make me angry.

These things happen. And I must deal with them.

God's showing me that, no matter what, I'll face these ongoing frustrations that challenge my patience and my calm. I cannot avoid them or stop them. What I can do is deal with them in a better way.

I may grimace or grunt. I may punch the air (but not anyone or anything). But I still must deal with them.

So now I'm learning to take a deep breath. Walk away for a minute. Pray for patience and guidance. (That's usually the last thing I try. Maybe it should be the first.) And then I deal with it. Calmly and thoughtfully. As best as I can in the circumstances. And learn from it.

It's not the big things that get me. It's those small frustrations that trigger doubts in my competence (or sometimes sanity).

Stuff happens. How can I deal with it that honors God?

Holding On and Letting Go

I hold on to things; I am a keeper. I blame the preschool teacher in me. I see a box or a bag or a scrap and just know that I'll need it some day. "We could build or make a puppet or assemble a pretend cargo plane with that stuff. We need to keep it."

My garage and my office will attest to the fact that I keep stuff. Lots of it. Sometimes it's practical. (See above.) Sometimes it's sentimental. ("I need to keep that lint because it was in my pocket when Cindy and I drove to Nashville for the first time.")

I hold on to other stuff, too--stuff that doesn't clutter my physical space but my mental and spiritual space. I hold on to criticisms that were voiced years ago; those comments may not still apply (if they ever did) and may not even come from a credible source, but they remain in my head. I hold on to mistakes I made (even if I didn't know any better). I hold on to past triumphs. I hold on to dreams, ones that may not even apply now.

God has been saying a lot about the past lately. I hear songs that include "not looking back" or "letting go." (No, not that Elsa song.) I read an admonition to not put hand to plow and look back (Luke 9:62). I read encouragement to forget what is behind and press on ahead (Philippians 3:13).

I should remember the lessons of the past; I don't need to make the same mistakes again. I should remember experiences from the past; memories are powerful connections and those experiences make me who I am today.

But I don't need to hold on to the past. If I hold on to all those things, my hands are too full. Too full to hold on to Jesus as I should. Too full to accept the things that are coming to me now. If my mind and heart are so full of what I did and should have done and should not have done and could have done, they cannot be engaged in what I'm being called to do now.

A few years ago, my grandmother died. She left me her old upright piano. I love that piano. I listened to her play it (when I could coax her to do so). I sat for hours and pecked out songs from an old hymnal propped open on it. That piano is a connection between my grandmother and me. I cherish the fact that she left it to me. But it is in Texas and I am here. I have no place for it. For the years since she died, it has sat in her drafty old house, waiting for the time I could make space and bring it here. After much thinking and some talking with my mom, I let it go. I told my mom to pass it on to someone who could use it. My memories are not with that piano; the love and connection I feel with my grandmother is always with me. Now the piano is going to a young lady just beginning her career as a musician and educator. Letting go has breathed new life into the piano and extended a legacy that it would not have otherwise had.

I must let go of the past. I must let go of what I think the future should be. I must hold on to God and His promises. I must hold on Him. And follow His plan instead of mine.

It Is Well

My favorite hymn is It Is Well with My Soul. Every single time I hear it, I am inspired, humbled, and reminded me that God is Sovereign.

Lately I don't think I've been living consistently with that message. God is Sovereign. God is in control. God does as He wills in His time. I know these things. I don't always live as if I know these things.

I've written about doubt before. What I'm learning is that doubt is not the opposite of faith. The opposite of faith is doing things myself. Or trying to make things happen myself.

In this season of our lives, I've been wondering what I need to be doing. Do I just sit and wait? Do I look and explore? WHAT DO I DO?

And I don't feel that it has been well with my soul.

So, this week, God taught me (again) to be where I am. This is what my calling is now. I don't need to go looking around for what's next. This is my next. (I know. I've written about this before. I'm a slow learner.)

It has been well. I feel a weight lift off.

I am listening and waiting. I'm doing what I know God has called me to do. I do new things when they open up.

And now I'm going to stop trying to pry things open myself.

It is well with my soul.

A New Thing

I always like the new year. It makes me feel like I can completely change. That everything that has happened in the old year is now past and I can make a new commitment or new habit or new way.

Of course, lots of those "new" things happen only a few times or not at all.

A few years ago, I began choosing one word for the year - one word to be the focus for the year. I do this instead of making resolutions. For 2015, I chose the word YES. This year I want to say yes to God and every way He is leading. I hope my yes is apparent, even before knowing the way He's leading.

I also try to choose a verse for the year, a verse that will help guide what I do. When I read Isaiah 43:19, I knew it was the verse for this year.

Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert. (Is. 43:19)

We want to see the new things that God is doing. We want to say yes, to be open to being a part of whatever new thing is coming.

Happy 2015! May God do something new in your life. We cannot wait to see what adventures await us.


(You can read more about my 2015 word on Brick by Brick.)

An Eternal Hope

I love teaching kindergartners. Children always give me a feeling of hope. Whenever I talk with them or spend time with them, I see a world of possibilities and energy and imagination and ideas. They think nothing is impossible. They are ready to try anything. They are curious and eager to explore. And, if they encounter difficulty, they keep on trying. They are always hoping and pressing on.

As an adult I often venture into the world with a hopeful attitude. But often that hope is in my own ability or the circumstances or my knowledge or just strength of will. That kind of hope is situational. It depends on what I can do or what others can do for me.

Today we face a world full of reasons not to hope. Challenges to our families, our children, our own selves seem to come at us from every side. It’s a time “rational” thought would say is hopeless. Situational hope evaporates. But God is a God of eternal hope.

In Romans, Paul wrote that Abraham believed, hoping against hope, that he would become the father of man nations. “Rational” thought would say this was impossible. Nothing in the situation gave hope. Abraham and Sarah were too old to become parents. But Abraham put his hope in God and God’s promise; God fulfilled His Word.

Mary faced a similar situation when the angel came to her. “Rational” thought would drive out earthly hope; a virgin cannot have a baby. But Mary believed God, put her hope in God to fulfill His Word. And He did.

The baby that God sent is a child of hope. The hope of a Messiah. The hope of rescue from a life of bondage to sin. Hope that life is more than this earthly existence. Hope that conquers any situation or circumstance. Our Sovereign God, our God of grace, give eternal hope through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of His Son.

Journey vs Destination

We like to drive. In fact, most of our past vacations have been about driving around and not necessarily getting to a certain place to do something. Even now, when I'm feeling restless, we will just drive around for a while. The enjoyment, the important part, is the traveling together and enjoying what we see along the way. The journey is more than just marking time until we reach a certain place.

This week I suddenly realized something. I've been thinking about this "middle" time as just a means to an end. This time of waiting and trusting is more than just an in-between. It is not just marking time until the next important thing.

This is the next important thing.

So often in the past months, I've been doing what I need to do. But when any opportunity shows up, I think, "This is the one that will get me moving again. This will be the next important thing."

I've not been enjoying the journey. I've not been paying attention to what is happening right now. Or at least I've not been seeing what's happening now as my "real life." It's just been a way-station until I get to the next part of my real life (in my view).

But that's not true. This is my real life now. I've had great time to think and write. I've had opportunities I wouldn't have been able to experience. I've enjoyed those experiences but not relished them as an important part of who I am and what I do. I haven't seen those as part of what God has called me to do overall - they've just been part of what's happening now.

I've been too quick to say, "I'm not teaching now but ...." I feel apologetic about what I'm doing now. And I shouldn't. God has led us to this exciting and challenging journey.

But this is my life now. My real life. The position God has called me to right now. It may last a few more weeks or a few more months or longer. We don't know when things will change or when God will call us to something new. This is our journey and destination at the moment.

We will enjoy the journey as we live it. And relish each moment along the way.