Do you have a pet peeve? I think we all do. Here are a few of the most popular:
- Slurping
- Spitting (I hate this…my dad used to spit out the car window and I was paranoid it was going to boomerang and come through mine!)
- Tapping
- Pen Clicking…guilty
- Nails on a chalkboard…omg!
- Leaving the lights on…ask my kids
- Pet hair all over clothes, floor furniture. When I had dogs, I was a maniac about dog hair and we would still find it in the craziest places
Although most of the above are annoying, there's still one that rises above all the others for me…when I feel I'm not being heard. I've not been one to hold back my opinion, although I am learning how to keep my mouth shut on certain occasions. It bothers me most when I feel what I'm saying will benefit the other person. If I feel I'm not being heard, I just keep repeating what I've said multiple times hoping they'll "get it." Usually this ends with them still looking at me with a deer in the headlights expression or they change the subject. I've done this mostly with my family and friends but I also do it with God
Prayer is a conversation with God and its a two-way street. Most of my conversations with God have involved me telling Him about my situation (which He already knew), and then telling Him how I wanted Him to answer. Thinking back, He should've hit me with a lightning bolt, but He never did. Instead, He just kept waiting for me to "get it." If you're having a real conversation with someone, that means there's at least two parties talking and giving their input. Same with God.
God tells us to be still and not let our hearts be troubled. He doesn't say this for the times when everything is fine and going our way. He says it for those times when we are afraid, when we're hurting, when we're weary and in my case, when I'm not being heard.
When we're still before God, we can release control and put the chaos of this life to the side.
How do we do this? For me, it looks like this…I sit in a comfortable chair, acknowledge the thoughts that are distracting me and put my mind on Him even if it's just saying His name.
I've never been one to sit still for long and most times it may only be five minutes but there's no time limit.
I don't always come away with the answers to my questions, but I always come away knowing I was heard.
I had always looked forward to being a grandmother. Both of mine passed away before I was born and I couldn't wait to have my own. When my oldest granddaughter was three years old, we started a tradition. I took her to The Nutcracker Ballet every Christmas. I would buy her a fancy dress and it became an annual date that we both loved. At first it was just the two of us but over the years it grew as we added cousins and friends. It was always a special time. Two years ago, all of my granddaughters moved down south. As Christmas approached, my heart was heavy as I realized this tradition had come to an end. I struggled with this realization and I had to examine my heart to find out why the grief was so strong. The answer came as a surprise. I thought the real reason was about not wanting to accept change and letting go of tradition but underneath it all was a fear of being forgotten. I was afraid if I couldn't carry on the tradition then some day after I was gone, the memory of me would fade away. I wanted my life to mean something to someone. I wanted to be remembered. I want to leave a legacy but I had to ask myself if it is more important that they remember me or what I stood for? Do I want them to just remember the places we went and the things we did or do I want them to remember they saw Jesus in me and they were loved, valued and accepted. That's the truth and that's what I hope they remember. I'm thankful to say this story has an unexpected happy ending. Today I had the pleasure of taking my daughter and all three granddaughters to The Nutcracker. It was a miracle how it all worked out as we all live in different states. I don't know if we'll be able to go again next year but I'm not going to worry about it. All I know is a lost dream was restored and I have a different perspective. My oldest granddaughter is now 11 and takes ballet. I watched her face as she watched the performance. There was an understanding now of hard work and commitment. She has a love and a passion that was planted when she was a little girl. This tradition isn't about me. It's about planting love and goodness and hope into future generations. I told her if she ever dances in The Nutcracker, I'll be there.
If you know little boys, you know they are an entity unto themselves. Growing up, I had one sister. I played with girls and never did any babysitting as a teenager so boys and their character were foreign to me. When I had my two sons, my eyes were opened. Suddenly I had these two little boys whose brains functioned in ways I couldn't grasp. Thankfully they never set anything on fire but there was a day I'll always remember. It was a warm, sunny day. The kids were playing outside in the backyard and my husband and I were inside. Suddenly we heard the kind of scream that propels a parent into fight or flight. It was coming from the backyard and it was our son. My husband jumped to his feet and started running toward the back door. He didn't even stop to put his shoes on. I wasn't far behind. I'll never forget the scene that awaited us. At first we didn't see our son as we looked out over the yard. That was because the screaming was coming from up above. As we looked toward the sound, there he was high in a tree towering above the house. He was hanging parallel to the ground with his hands and feet wrapped around a branch. My first thought was to yell, “what in the world possessed you to climb up there?” My husband didn't need clarification. He simply ran over and stood underneath the branch where our son was hanging. He took one look at his terrified face, extended his arms out in front of him and said, “Let go, I'll catch you.” My son started screaming that he couldn't do it but my husband calmly reassured him. My son had a choice to make and I watched the resignation cross over his face and he let go of the branch. His father caught him without a problem. When I think of that time, I am reminded that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. So many times I thought I was going in the right direction only to find out I ended up in a place I didn't want to be and I didn't know how to get out. It wasn't until I cried out to my Father in heaven that I saw the way and it always started with God saying, “Let go. Trust me.” Sometimes the way was easy and sometimes it was hard but He always “caught” me and put my feet on solid ground. Psalm 40:2 says: “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” If you're finding yourself in a place where there seems to be no way out, I encourage you to say these three words, “God help me.” He will hear you and He will make a way. It's ok to let go.
In December of 2023, I had just returned home from a trip out west. After being terrified to fly for many years, I was proud of myself for flying and navigating one of the largest airports in the world. I came home and sat down in my recliner so I could unwind and relax. After a little while, I stood up and felt pain in my left knee. It happened suddenly, out of the blue and took me on a journey I didn't want to take. Since then I have had multiple doctors visits, several rounds of physical therapy and arthroscopic procedures on both knees. This was the first time I faced mobility issues and I watched my confidence fade and fear rise up where it had never been before. I found myself looking at the ground with every step, making decisions about my social life based on how much walking I'd need to do, getting a wheelchair at the airport, and using a handicapped placard in my car. This disability controlled my life. Last week I finished my last round of physical therapy. I am thankful to say it helped me. I've been able to go grocery shopping, take short walks and stand while talking to others. Things I used to take for granted. Today I had an appointment. When I pulled into the parking lot, there were only two spots available. One was a handicapped spot right in front of the door. The other was all the way down near the end of the lot. By habit, I pulled into the handicapped spot and immediately the thought came to mind, “do I really need to park in the handicapped spot?” I found myself backing out and driving to the end of the lot. It was after my appointment when I was walking back to my car that I heard this still small voice say, “You are no longer handicapped so why do you act like you still are?” If you have ever had an epiphany moment, this was one of mine. I had gotten comfortable being handicapped. There were actually some benefits to it such as the parking and special assistance at the airport, and if I'm being honest, being able to use my handicap as an excuse to get out of doing what I didn't want to do. I felt justified in asking for help. It was ok at the time but all through this ordeal I had asked God to heal me and now that I was in a better place, I was afraid to let go. This revelation went deeper than a physical handicap. It affected me mentally and spiritually as well. I was afraid to let go because then I wouldn't have anywhere to hide but in doing so, I gave power to fear. It affected me spiritually because I doubted God really cared about me. The healing was taking too long and I was afraid I would never get my life back. If you know God, you know He doesn't always do things our way. This was a valley moment for me. It's been a place of searching and questioning if I believed He was good and His Word was true. I found myself telling Him, “God, I've done everything I know to do.” That was the problem. I've lived my life thinking nothing good happens unless I earn it. I couldn't have been farther from the truth. I have to tell you that as I walked back and forth to my car, there was a sense of freedom. It felt good. Now, hopefully, I can look at my life through a different lens. I have to be realistic because of my age. There are some things I can't do now, like climbing ladders, but it's not because I'm handicapped, it's just life and I'm learning to be ok with that.
