What's Next?

In my prayer time this week, I was asking about why, when I am speaking, my words are so very often misunderstood. Somehow, the intent behind them quite often seems to be received as stronger and far more forceful than I perceive them or want them to be.

This time, an answer came that has me still rather much in shock.

In my purpose work, I have learned that my identity is to be a barrier-breaker and a light bearer. I love understanding this because I can see, throughout my entire lifetime, this thread of truth in breaking barriers that will allow the light of Christ to enter in. What I didn’t ever know, however, was what the Holy Spirit just revealed to me.

This is an exact quote: “Linda, don’t you realize that your words have hammers attached to them?”

While pondering this for a bit, She added, “You are a barrier-breaker. Remember? You have hammers attached to your words.”

I am still trying to sort out several pieces of this revelation.

First, as soon as I heard Her say that I have hammers attached to my words, I knew in my heart of hearts it was true.

Then, almost as quickly as this affirmation came, so did my questioning heart. Why, oh why, oh why has it taken me 62 years to recognize this? I instantly ran through a host of difficult conversations and arguments that I have had over the years. Thoughts of unpleasant discussions and public meetings that did not go well immediately flashed through my brain. All I could think of was, “Why didn’t I know this sooner?” I could see how I might have been able to soften my words, had I known.  I have been unaware of this for my entire life, although I always knew something wasn't how I wanted it to be. Over the years, I have worked very hard on recognizing my tone of voice, my body language, and my word choice, yet I didn't understand that the energy attached to my words is different from that of others.

The next thing that happened was anger.

Would my first marriage not have ended in divorce if I’d been able to recognize the unintended force behind my words? Would my second marriage have been a happier one before my husband’s untimely death had I only known? Would my colleagues have wanted to collaborate more with me, had I known that I was hammering my thoughts at them without even knowing my own strength? 

Then the sadness came.

Why do these lessons take so long? How can I be such a quick study in the natural world and such a slow learner in spiritual work?

Now, I am simply pondering. My name, Linda, means soft and tender. Yet, now I see that my words have hammers attached to them. No wonder I’ve been confusing to everyone, including myself! I can’t go back and change a thing, although I surely wish I could.

Now that I have the spiritual eyes to see, I am ready to learn what is next.

How might I use my hammer-words to bring victory to those in chains? What barriers can be broken from the words of my lips? How might I be able to use this gift to glorify the One who made me?

What now?

What’s next?

Disappointments

I’ve had lots of disappointments over the past few months. Really, too many to count. When I think about why I am disappointed, it always comes down to what my expectations are, and how they don’t align with those around me.

I thought I had been handling them pretty well. One after another—a loss of a friendship; people I care about moving far away; children making decisions that aren’t healthy; husband emotionally unavailable; illness and death of loved ones; failures in my profession; lost opportunities for marketing; etc.

Lots of stuff.  Then this morning happened.

First I failed an on-line training for my University position. It’s not earth-shattering, but for me, it kind of is. It will be good to do some remedial work with my colleagues, but it is a humbling experience that I wish I didn’t have to have.

What pushed me over the edge, however, was when I was cutting my morning English Muffin to put into the toaster, I accidently sliced off my guitar callous on my left pointer finger.

My first response was to be horrified.

Then I had to laugh at how this sliced callous was my final straw.  I understand why. Callouses are developed over time, and are necessary for guitar players. Without them, it is rather painful to play.

This instant end to months of creating was eliminated in a fraction of a second. But what came to mind was how symbolic this was of all of the other disappointments that have recently taken place. All of that energy and time spent in developing, now gone in a split.

I am usually pretty good at gratitude on most days. Gratitude is actually my top VIA (Virtues in Action) strength, so I am rather experienced in this arena. I also know full-well that gratitude is the antidote for disappointments and sadness.  Knowing this, I will not stay long in this emotional place, however, now that I’m here, I just want to take a moment and feel into it.

I am allowing myself to feel disappointed. I know that it doesn’t really get me where I want to be, so I won’t remain long, but what it does do for me is that I get to understand more fully why my expectations need a lot of work.

When we act out of love instead of self, we won’t feel let-down. Or if we do, it won’t last.

I am growing here.

Slicing off a long established callous brings a myriad of thoughts and concerns.  How long will it take to re-grow it? Will it hurt tomorrow when I’m playing at church? Will it keep me from playing at my best? Will I bleed on my guitar?

Cutting off my callous is indeed indicative of how I have been dealing with all of life’s disappointments. Will I stay stuck in concern, or will I let it go and move on?

Of course, I already know that answer.

Because Sometimes I Forget

Sometimes I forget who I am. I am reminding myself:

Jesus says I am His friend (John 15:14-15).

I have all that I need (Philippians 4:19).

I am more than a conqueror (Romans 8:37).

I am a joint-heir with Christ (Romans 8:17).

I can do all things (Philippians 4:13).

I can come boldly to the throne (Hebrews 4:16).

I am an intercessor (I Timothy 2:1-3).

I have the ministry of reconciliation (II Corinthians 5:18).

I am a living epistle (II Corinthians 3:3).

I have the Holy Spirit who teaches me the deep thing of God (I Corinthians 2:10).

I am comforted and can comfort others (II Corinthians 1:4).

I am a new creation (II Corinthians 5:17).

I am an ambassador for Christ (II Corinthians 5: 20).

I can bring every thought unto the obedience of Christ (II Corinthians 10:5).

God makes me strong in my weakness (II Corinthians 12:10).

I will reap a harvest if I don’t give up (Galatians 6:9).

I am chosen and blameless (Ephesians 1:4).

I am already seated in Heaven (Ephesians 2:6).

I have the full armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-17).

I can know how to give a Godly answer to everyone who asks (Ephesians 4:6).

I have a spirit of power, love and a sound mind (II Timothy 1:7).

I am strong in grace (II Timothy 2:1).

My prayers are powerful and effective (James 5:16).

I am called to be a blessing (I Peter 3:9).

I am forgiven and purified (I John 1:9).

I have overcome evil (I John 4:4).

And as my mentor is teaching me, "God plus nothing equals everything." 

An Encouraging Word Makes a Difference

I grew up feeling like I was the “dumbest” one in my family. My oldest brother is an aerospace engineer. He often wears a t-shirt saying, “Actually, I am a Rocket Scientist!” My other brother has a PhD in physics and runs a lithography company. They create computer chips in the Silicon Valley and he spends half his time in Tokyo. This brother received a perfect 800 on his SAT’s prior to entering college.

I followed along, two years later, growing up in a small town with footprints ahead of me too overwhelming to fill. Being the baby, I didn’t even try.

My mother was very proud of her boys, and was actually quite the braggart in regards to their accomplishments.  I overheard her multiple times telling others about their achievements, and sometimes the person would say, “don’t you also have a daughter?”  Quickly, my mother would add, “Oh yes, she’s a wonderful baker. She just won a blue ribbon at the county fair with her cookies.”

Needless to say, these experiences did not help me to see myself as one who could achieve.

During my junior year in High School, my AP (Advanced Placement) History teacher decided that I was not up to par with the rest of my classmates, so she began to seek out my former teachers from my elementary and junior high years.  Most of the teachers she spoke with did not remember me. They did, however, remember my brothers quite well.

I’m sure this teacher meant well, but she took it upon herself to ask me to stay after school to meet with her. Now this was already an issue, since I lived about four miles from the school and would be missing my bus to meet with her. That meant I would have to walk home. It sounded important, and back then, we didn’t argue with those in authority, so I showed up.

Mrs. History Teacher began to tell me, as delicately as she could, that she believed I wasn’t college material. She told me that just because my brothers were academically successful didn’t mean that I had to set myself up to try and follow in their footsteps. She told me I should consider a different path for my future.

Devastated, I trudged the whole four miles home in tears, vowing to do something about my life and not letting Mrs. History Teacher define who I was.

Several years later, I was in an elementary teaching university program that required a field experience at the start of a school year. It is customary for all of a district’s staff to meet with a convocation on the first day back. I was observing in a second grade classroom with a friend’s mother. As we sat in the auditorium together waiting for the superintendent’s first day message, Mrs. History Teacher walked by and said, “Linda, I didn’t expect to ever see you in a school again!” I smiled sweetly, saying, “I guess I will be in schools for the rest of my life now!” I felt empowered, but I still didn’t have an inkling of what was inside of me.

I taught for several years, and then decided to stay home with my children. During that time, I was looking for a way to make a little extra cash. A friend was staying at our house due to some unfortunate life-circumstances, and she had placed an ad in our local newspaper for house cleaning positions, using my phone number as her contact (this was way before cell phones!). Her circumstances improved and she left shortly after, but it was too late. The calls came to my phone number. I hadn’t planned on cleaning houses, but this seemed to be a way to make some cash and still be mostly home with my children.

One of the homes where I cleaned was with an amazing woman. She was indeed the best mentor of my life. This woman had a PhD in nursing, and while retired, her wisdom about every aspect of life continually flowed out of her. After my second week cleaning her home, she asked me why I was cleaning houses. She said she knew that I was destined for so much more. She wondered why I was not pursuing a graduate degree.

Over the weeks, this lovely lady encouraged me to see myself with fresh eyes. I was no longer the “dumbest” one in my family. She saw in me intelligence and potential. Each week, as I dusted and cleaned her home, she continued to pour into me what I needed to take the steps to apply for a graduate program.

The following fall, I was enrolled full-time in a Master’s program. It was there, now at age, twenty-nine, that I began to see myself as something other than dumb. I shared with one of my professors how I grew up being the dumbest one in my family. He laughed and said, “Ya know, if one were to look at the IQ score differences between Albert Einstein and Albert Schweitzer, I am sure that would be a huge difference in those numbers. But really, would we portray Albert Schweitzer as dumb?”

Those words literally changed my life. I now have a PhD in Educational Leadership, and I teach pre-service teachers and principals how to be the best they can be. My experiences have shown me that we cannot put people in boxes with labels. We all have purpose and value, and we don’t live out our destiny by believing other people’s opinions about what we can and cannot do.

I am grateful for my life’s path, because I believe God is using my previous pain and struggles to be the difference in the lives of others. I would have it no other way!

Feelings

Feelings.

Today, I am feeling distant from all that is good.

I don’t feel God’s presence.

I don’t feel a sense of peace.

I don’t feel happy.

I don’t really feel sad, but something just isn’t right.

Off-kilter.

I know that spiritually, the world is in turmoil. Fires, floods, hurricanes, tornados, earthquakes, murders, drug over doses, deaths. So much anger and hatred all around.

I am sitting and trying to be still, remembering He is God. I am not.

I don’t understand why I feel so alone. I know I am not. I know that the Holy Spirit is with every breath I take. I know that Jesus is as close as my heartbeat. Yet, all around me is angst and unsettledness.

 I have no close friends nearby. My husband is distracted and internally stuck at the moment. When he is like this, he needs his space. Everything I say becomes an argument. I have learned that it is best to be still. I know he won’t stay there long, and so that isn’t an issue, really.

Being still has been a life-long endeavor to learn. I’m nowhere near there yet.  Today, I will stay in prayer until the perfect peace of Jesus replaces my unsettled thoughts.

Today, I will draw closer than ever, because otherwise, I will be swallowed up in current.

Today, I will rest in who I am, but most important, who He is. And I am grateful.

It is Enough

As I am learning to grow into my purpose and calling to be a light-bearer and barrier breaker, I still am feeling quite ineffective. I know people feel safe sharing their hearts with me, and yet, I am still not in a place where I have insight for them. I don’t see amazing breakthroughs, and I am not aware of any tangible help I have provided. Other than intercessory prayer, I am pretty much not at all where I expected to be by now.

Today, I have been a listener, and a forgiver. I have been a sounding board and have acted out of love instead of judgement.  I have not, however, been the carrier of the light of Christ that I think I should be.

Yet, I am reminded that it isn’t me at all. The light of Christ is in me and on me, and I don’t have to do or say anything to bring Jesus into the room.

It is very freeing to know that I don’t have to do anything to live out my purpose. If I am a light-bearer, then simply my presence brings His presence. How awesome is that?

Then, why do I still feel inadequate, and as though it is not enough? What a privilege it is carry the light of Christ with me wherever I go. The very nature of His perfect light dispels the darkness. The minute I am expecting something out of me to be the difference, I defeat the whole point.

It isn’t about me.

It never was.

And that is enough.

Today is My Birthday

Today is my 62^nd birthday. When I was a child, 60 sounded so old. We would pretend to be as old as 60 by walking hunched over with a cane, and using a feeble, shaky voice. So here I am, still feeling like I am 30 inside, and wondering why we thought this age was what is now about 90.

In my brain, I still feel like I could do ten cartwheels in a row, or somersault down a hill over and over again. Of course, experience has taught me that those types of activities make me instantly dizzy now, but I truly feel like I could do it if I had to.

My children took me out for dinner early because tonight I teach at our local University. As I am preparing for my teaching, I keep thinking about how blessed my life has been. I am so very grateful for the bumpy road I have traveled, because I know that it was by tripping over the rocks along the way, I have learned valuable lessons that could not have been learned any other way. I wouldn’t change a thing, even though it seems like it took a ridiculous amount of time to finally get it. I mean, six decades plus two more years is certainly not what one would call the fast-paced course!

As I sit in gratitude, so blessed to be able to teach and to spend time with my children and grandchildren, I am reminded how fragile life is.

Hurricane Irma is heading closer to shore, and I pray for those who will be in its path. I am concerned for their safety, and I pray they will hear God’s voice to move where they need to be.

Also, I am continuing in prayer for the victims of Hurricane Harvey as they are still looking at many months of cleanup ahead of them. May they feel the love and support of others as they rebuild their lives.