Category Archives: Learning from our past

Am I understood?

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About a year ago I witnessed something grand in the heavens. Jack and I were on our usual late-night stroll when the clouds broke to reveal a gorgeous full moon. But what caused me to stop and stare was the magnificent rainbow around it!

Rainbowed moonStumbling around the block with my eyes riveted on the sky, I figured the whole world must be watching this incredible phenomenon. As soon as we got home, I turned on my computer, certain that the rainbow-moon would be front-and-center on the news with pictures to prove it. But to my surprise, there wasn’t a mention.

Was I the only one who’d witnessed it? Several days later I got my answer.

Rainbows began appearing around the moon every night, and not just that. They began showing up around porch lights, headlights, and street lights, too. That’s when I realized, “These aren’t God’s wonders at all!”

Having heard friends talk about rainbows around lights, especially at night, I finally knew my rainbow-moon hadn’t been real. It only existed because my deteriorating eyes had created it, and…. I was on my way to cataracts.

Weeks passed, and my light show grew more dazzling. Sparkling white stars began competing for space with the rainbows. No star-of-the-magi could have been more beautiful, but when it came to night driving, I was in trouble.

I tried to describe the problem to people who’d never seen what I was seeing, but they would only raise their eyebrows and say, “Really? That’s weird.” Others would simply change the subject.

Talking to a cataract-person who shared my light-show phenomenon was much more satisfying. They understood, and their own stories matched mine. Together we could chat openly about our limitations and what could be done about them.

It’s always a huge relief to be thoroughly understood. Yet often, when we attempt to explain ourselves, we get thoroughly misunderstood. This can be the cause of problems that should never have to be — especially in relationships.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be accurately understood every time? There is Someone who does this well. God is a champion listener, and each time we go to him explaining our sorrow, fear, anger, frustration, or confusion, it’s ok to picture him nodding, with his hand on our shoulder saying, “I hear you, and I completely understand.”

No raised brows. No change of subject. No conversational confusion. Even if we can’t voice what we’re really feeling or sort it out in our own minds, God is able to fill in the missing details, put all of it in order, and understand our deepest longings. More than that, he knows exactly what to do next and will lead us to practical help.

Cataract surgeryThrough a cataract-friend at church, God led me to a competent eye doctor, who performed flawless surgery on my cataract-eye. And it’s a blessing to drive safely again…. even though I do miss that beautiful rainbow-moon.

“Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath.” (Psalm 116:2)

Give it a try.

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God has blessed me with 11 grandchildren… so far.

Currently they are ages 7, 7, 6, 6, 6, 4, 3, 3, 2, 1, and 6 months. I look at that roster and marvel at the joy and creativity they bring to life.

IMG_1284Most interesting are the ideas they have. Take Micah, for example, age six. During my last visit, we had thrown away a cardboard box, after which Micah had sequestered himself with it. A few minutes later he reappeared.  “Look everybody! I made my own sandals!”

Even one-year-olds have clever ideas. After little Lizzie first spotted her birthday cake, she knew immediately what she needed to do. Wanting to get maximum pleasure for minimal effort, she moved in on the cake in the most efficient way possible: by sucking it. Good idea!

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IMG_0620Emerald, at three, found a new way to play Dominoes – on the piano keys. Or maybe it was a new way to play piano, because she began plunking the new “keys” as soon as she’d finished arranging them.

Skylar at seven initiated a game of hide and seek – with a twist. We were instructed to hunt for items she’d hidden that were, if we looked carefully, fully visible. None of us found this one – her pink purse, camouflaged in a bush of pink flowers. (Center of picture.)

Pink purse hidden

Kids are a fountain of fresh ideas and love to experiment with them. Many turn into failures, but that’s how they learn. We adults monitor from afar and intervene if something has potential to harm.

Grown-ups have plenty of ideas, too, and love to try them out in much the same way children do. But if we’re Christians, we’d better run those ideas past God first, because they can be contrary to what he’s already told us won’t work. Just like children, though, we often try our ideas anyway, sometimes bringing long-term misery. Taking God’s advice over our own is always a better strategy.

Sadly, it’s not easy to adopt another person’s idea over our own, especially if it comes in the form of a warning. It means shifting gears and accepting that his recommendation is better than ours. It’s especially difficult to do that, if we have an emotional attachment to our idea. In that case our hearts try hard to overrule God’s wisdom. We say, “I know you don’t like this, Lord, but I just want to do it!”

Sound like a child?

Maybe that’s why God does, indeed, call us children (1 John 3:1), because we have no trouble acting that way. At least he says we’re his children.

Surely our heavenly Father doesn’t love us any less when we go against his counsel and our ideas fail. Just like an earthly parent, he uses those failures to teach us.

But the best idea of all might be that each time we have “a good idea,” we run it past him before we plunge ahead.

“Be imitators of God, as beloved children.” (Ephesians 5:1)

Community Living

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Back home in Michigan now, my mind and heart are often still in Hawaii, where two of my children and one grandchild remain. My stay there, acting as a nanny for Emerald, was positive in every way – except one.

Although I lived in a lovely guest room by myself, after the first few days I discovered I was going to have to share my space after all, with some very unwelcome roommates… three gecko lizards.

geckoHawaiians love their geckos. “They eat mosquitoes and other pesky insects,” I was told, “so we’re always glad to see them. We never hurt them.”

But being from gecko-free Michigan, I felt differently. Though there are no snakes in Hawaii (good news for my phobia), a lizard’s tail comes pretty close, not to mention its beady eyes.

My three roommates were different colors, so I could tell who was who – tan, grey, and green. Occasionally I’d see them together, climbing up and down my room walls on their sticky toe-pads with who-knows-what intentions. Their chirping, which sounds much like their name, would often startle me with how close it was, and I’d freeze until I could see where they were.

Because my bed was in the corner, I worried I might wake to find all three lined up on my pillow watching me. It was a terrifying thought and sometimes kept me from sleeping. Lizard-related dreams were frequent. And I’d often hear them scampering around the perimeter of the ceiling, just behind the beams.

FullSizeRender (4)In the end, though, I had to admit that my gecko roomies probably wouldn’t harm me, and despite disliking them, I would have to co-exist with them for the duration.

Life continually asks us to co-exist with situations (or people) we don’t like. God often sets it up that way on purpose, expecting us to handle it with grace.

Why would he deliberately do such a thing? Because working to co-exist with something or someone we struggle to get along with is good for us, tugging us away from a natural me-first mind-set. It forces thoughts about another, though what those thoughts are is up to us. We can fight against acceptance or work toward it, our choice.

I had no trouble being irritated with the geckos, but the truth was, most of my objections were in my own head – fabricated by my dislike of them. It didn’t help the situation to think negatively, though, and could have worked in my favor had I tried to accept them as the Hawaiians do. None of what I worried about came to pass anyway.

But all is not lost. Back in Michigan now, God is giving me a fresh chance to learn the same lesson. Once again I’m hearing the scampering of little feet around my bedroom ceiling, and not just three sets of them. This time there’s a whole army — of squirrels.

Let us pursue what makes for peace. (Romans 14:19)