I've got some people in the house today cleaning my windows.

 

They stink.  I mean, they personally are very smelly people.  Does that make sense to you?  I feel like I need to have people come in to clean the people who are cleaning.

 

And secondly...my seven year old daughter Sarah had a report due on Monday.  They're studying dinosaurs in Science class.   Bart and I looked at her paper and across the top she had written:  TRISARAHTOPS.    I bet it was a pretty adorable dinosaur!

 

 

 

 

I just ordered my meal completely cooked from the local grocery store.  I called my mom first, who is a STELLAR cook, to make sure she wouldn't cast me into Sheol for my choice.  She gave me her blessing, so I made the call (that I know by heart, by the way) to HyVee.  Life is pretty good here in I'd-rather-be-doing-anything-else-even-scrubbing-my-toilets-but-preferrably-something-creative-over-cooking-for-thanksgiving--land.

 

 

I'm hosting Thanksgiving this year.  This is no joke.  It did not occur to me until TODAY that I need to go and buy a turkey, and all the other...stuff... I need to buy. 

 

It's time to call my mother, or else we'll be having a "McThanksgiving."

I've toyed around for years about writing a book about depression from a Christian's point of view.  Why?  Because I am a Christian who has suffered from depression and anxiety since early childhood. And, I'm someone who has taken many routes in dealing with it since I was saved almost 25 years ago.   The Christian world is very divided on their views about depression.  I have heard them all, and have processed every well-intentioned viewpoint I have received from people.  My prayer is that I continue to be open to listening to what people have to say about depression, and that I will have the wisdom and discernment to decipher what is of God, and what is not.  The what is "not" runs the gamut from religious-judgmental-you're-just-not-spending-enough-time-in-the-word ignorance to pragmatic-fix-it-with-medication-and-move-on-with-your-life-mentality.  In all honesty, some of those conversations have been very helpful, but many have been wounding and hard to shake off.  There is truth in both of those extremes.  I must stay in God's word.  Medication has been necessary for me at certain times in my life.  But It just isn't as simple as people want to make it. 

 

There are times when I'm embarrassed about it, especially around Christians.  I struggle with it the most when people want me to try and explain myself to them.  I feel like I'm being interviewed for the job of "Genuine Christian" and am not giving them the right answers to their questions.  How can someone who has been redeemed from certain destruction and indwelt with the Holy Spirit be depressed?  YA GOT ME.  It doesn't make sense.   There are times when I'm angry at myself about it, because I can't just keep on the sunny side of life.  I can be a giant buzzkill, no doubt about it, man.  I've struggled with the feelings of being a lazy person, a selfish person, a negative person.  (not to say that some of those things aren't there without the depression, but the depression contributes and even causes some of them)  There are times when it scares me.  The hole has gotten pretty deep through the years.  There are seasons when I fight it.  There are seasons when I don't have the strength to fight it.  There are times when my family and friends help me. Then, there are the times I try to deal with it alone so that I don't bring other people down. 

 

And, there are the times that I'm actually grateful for my depression.  It forces me to the cross.  God shows Himself to me, so how can I not be grateful for that?  As a creative person, I've wondered if there might be some tie-in.  My family history plays in there as well.  My life habits probably have something to do with it.  Who knows?  When I meet Jesus, after I beg Him to show me stuff like the creation of the world, and Noah, and the parting of the Red Sea, I might ask Him about this whole depression thing.

 

Bart left the office and brought me coffee today.  We were talking a little about it, and he said something like:  "I like who you are, and I think it just is what it is.  We deal with it the best we can, and it doesn't change the way I feel about you."  He's right.  It is what it is.  I'm not going to hide it.  I'm not going to make excuses about it.  I also don't want to hide behind it, trying to slough off responsibility for my sin issues on my depression. 

 

I'm so grateful for Bart.

 

Is it a flaw? Maybe.  Is it a blessing?  Maybe.  It's in my life for reasons I know a lot about, and some I know little about.  God sees it for what it is completely.  So, I'll look to Him for the faith to persevere until the answers become more clear. 

 

 

 

 

Our whole culture places a lot of value on trying to best calculate the odds.  Entire jobs have been created with the sole purpose of figuring the odds.  Actuaries spend their entire careers trying to figure out how long people will live based on genetic factors, personal life habits, location, occupation, etc.  How much will someone cost an insurance company if the "odds" are stacked against him?  How much can an insurance company charge someone who's odds are favorable in order to pay for a guy who is condemned by his odds?

 

It's a rush to beat those odds.   That's why we get so excited when the "underdog" wins in a sports competition.  That's why so many people gamble.  That's why Evil Kineval tried to jump the Grand Canyon on a red, white, and blue motorcycle. 

 

But, the people who have made the biggest impression on me are those who don't seem to pay much attention to the odds.   They don't live for the rush of overcoming the unlikely.  Instead, they pay attention to what's going on in their lives.  They treasure even the everyday things, the "likely" things.  They just live their lives, trying to do their best with what they have, with no expectations of some unlikely event happening that would solve all of their problems.   The funny thing is...those are sometimes the very people who have the biggest story to tell about beating the odds.

 

My parents are those kind of people.  They just celebrated their fortieth anniversary.  Those forty years were fought over...but mostly fought for.  In all honesty, they probably "shouldn't" have made it.  There were many life situations and habits that were working against them through many many of those years.  But, they have definitely beaten the odds.  If you ask them, they certainly wouldn't tell you that they did it for the rush of overcoming the statistics.   They lived their lives to the best of their abilities, taking one day at a time, and hoping the other was doing the same.  I'm proud of them.  I admire them. 

 

The odds have found an interesting place in my life.  As a Christian who believes in the utter sovereignty of God, I want to place little value on the odds when making my decisions.  However, chance, statistics, the odds, whatever you want to call them take on a pretty cool meaning in light of God's power.  God can do all things.  God often waits to work until the "odds" are utterly ridiculous, like with Lazarus.  They begged Him to come to Lazarus, but He waited 2 (was it two?) more days...til he was stinking dead.  Why?  So that when Jesus raised Lazarus, the world would know that God is bigger than the odds. 

 

When looked at through the lens of God's power, the odds become a pretty beautiful thing. They point the world to an unlikely Savior who did the impossible for people like me, who's odds have utterly condemned them.  So, praise God...for the odds.

 

 

Friday was show and tell day at Sarah's school.  She decided on Monday that she wanted to bring Grandma and Grandpa for her show and tell items!  It was pretty cute.  Check out the pics!

 

I wanted to do whatever I could to make her show and tell wish come true, since on Wednesday,  I forgot to pick her up from school.  She got out at noon, and I completely forgot about it!  She called at 12:45, wanting to know if I was planning on coming to get her.  I felt awful!  (that is, until I got to the school and saw the 20 other kids who were sitting there waiting for their mothers!)

 

Last week I was sitting at lunch with a certain uber-witty friend.  We'll call her "Lou."  Another friend was also with us, one who gets a little squirmy when the uber-witty friend and I start laughing so hard that we begin snorting and gasping for breath.  We'll call him "Gavin."  As we finished our chinese food, "Lou" reached for her fortune cookie and casually said:  "What if we invented MIS-fortune cookies?  The messages could say things like:  "You HAD a cat."  or.."You will soon grow a goiter.""  Lou and I started the laughing-so-hard-we-were-snorting-gasping-slapping-the-table thing, and "Gavin" conveniently got up to go "make a phone call."

 

Just for that, Gavin, we're going to give you a misfortune cookie that says:  "He who doesn't laugh at clever witticisms will begin breaking out uncontrollably in fits of yodeling and will be forced to duct tape his mouth and eat lomein noodles through his nostrils."

 

I'm opening the comment section for any other misfortunate sayings that we could use in our newest business venture.  Post away!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm a dot.  A dot living in a dot of a town in a dot of a state in a country in a big huge world that, compared to God, is like His footstool.  I don't say that to be self-deprecating.  I say it because that truth serves to magnify a bigger truth: 

 

I felt very loved by God this weekend.  His word filled me, encouraged me, strengthened me, nourished me.   Our pastor organized a worship seminar just to bless his  weary musicians.   We didn't get together to affirm each other in our abilities and in our ministry.  We got together and heard God's word.  We were reminded of God's amazing character and His ridiculously extravagant love for dots like me.  He became a dot.  That's how much he loves me.  He reminded me of the joy that comes in being a part of a worship ministry that runs hard after Him on Sunday mornings.  He reminded me of the joy that comes when His glory becomes my primary aim in life. 

 

What began as passionate cries for help and direction a few years ago regarding the music ministry have turned to hoarse whispers lifted with a heavy and numb spirit.  He has heard them all.  Why he chose to wait until now to provide encouragement is beyond what I understand.  That's not for me to question, I guess.   For now I just want to be grateful and enjoy this season of feeling like...

 

 

 

This dot feels refreshed and grateful tonight.  More on the weekend later...

My daughter and I have issues.  I hear it's "normal" for a mom and an eleven year old to have issues.  Normal isn't very fun lately, however.   I'm learning slowly and painfully that some things aren't worth fighting over. 

 

These are the hills I'm trying not to die on:

Hairstyle

Clothing (as long as it it's appropriate)

Mindless repetitive pointless conversation

The "how" of cleaning one's room

The "why" behind the order in which she chooses to do ...well..pretty much everything.

Eye-rolling

 

These are the hills I have chosen to die on lately:

Poor hygiene

Lying

Disrespectfulness

Gossip/Slander

Ingratitude

 

So, I die anew every day, over the same issues, and, it seems, with little or no progress in some of those areas.  My death is usually an ugly and painful one.  I'm not proud of the way I handle Jenna's repeat offenses.  I'm at a complete loss as to whether or not we're being effective with our discipline, and I'm having to repent of my own repeat offenses regarding my anger issues.  

 

By the time she hits her teen years, maybe I'll have a grip on how to handle her.  Or, I'll be completely brain dead, sitting in my recliner, drooling into a pan, watching Price is Right and Sesame Street.  *sigh*  I'm not far off from option 2.