A pastor friend of mine once ranted about the prayer requests that are asked for in church life. He wanted so much to pray for his congregation and felt a great need to pray for them and their needs, but just couldn't bring himself to pray for "my cousin's daughter-in-law's nephew's hairdresser's cat." That wasn't a specific prayer request, but you get the idea.
At first I thought it was an insensitive thing for a pastor to say. And then there was Facebook...
Prayer request after prayer request. All of them important, all of them worthy of prayer. Even "the hairdresser's cat" is important because we're not just praying for the cat, but for the person who feels a great sense of worry over his/her most trusted and loyal companion. (I know-it's a cat. But there are a few.) But doggoneit, it's overwhelming!
In one day I may receive as many as 7 requests for prayers or "positive vibes." (I pray. I think prayer is more powerful than my positive vibes, especially when I'm not feeling positive.) That doesn't count my family, prayer requests from church, friends who I know need prayer, or my own personal requests.
What about those in my immediate circle who are in pain? What about my friends who are struggling hard with pain I could never imagine, like the death of a child? What about my friends whose life is falling apart, bit by bit? What about my friends who are lonely or childless or jobless? What about MY hairdressers cat?
A friend of mine once commented about how she uses Facebook. She refrains from adding friends just because she knows them or had some connection with them in the past. She doesn't want the people she cares about most to get lost in the shuffle. She wants to be connected with people she has a strong connection with.
Exactly! As I am re-shuffling and re-thinking how I want to use Facebook, I am giving myself permission to only pray for those I am closely connected to. (With some exceptions, of course--things like our soldiers overseas, the Newtown tragedy, or the Boston Marathon victims.) God has given me a flood of people throughout my life who have blessed me, changed me, or challenged me. I am blessed with friends, family, and friends who are like family. They need prayer. I need prayer. It's an honor for me to pray for them and for them to pray for me.
And, like my friend's reasons for protecting her Facebook account, the numerous prayer requests cause those closest to me to get less "air time." They get a brief prayer, just like the rest of them. Because that's what I have the energy for.
When I do really get humble before God and beg Him for the grace to heal or comfort someone in my closer circle of connections and spend a tremendous amount of emotional energy on their need, I find that I just don't have the same passion for a stranger's cat.
Is praying for others important? Oh, yeah! Is praying the right thing to do? Of course! But I see now that I don't have to pray for the whole world. God gave me beautiful people I can invest my energy into. He gave me particularly annoying "neighbors" * that He commanded me to pray for. HE put these people in my life right now for "such a time as this."** The others have someone God has gifted them to, as well. They will be prayed for by someone who will take the time to beg for their healing or their comfort. They will pray with more passion and compassion. God has not made me responsible for everyone.
Not even your cousin's daughter-in-law's, nephew's hairdresser's cat. Just your cat.
(For my friends who may not understand some of my references, I wanted to make sure you understood where I was coming from, should you desire to do so.
(Matthew 5:44 Bible
* But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you
(Esther 4:14b Bible
* * ...and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?)
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Anne of Green Gables: Who Is This New Cover Girl?
I went to bed Wednesday night in a rage.
Well, rage might be exaggerating, but my blood was boiling and it took me longer than 2 minutes to fall asleep (nearly a record). I was offended, shocked, angry, and I was having a hard time putting it into words. Anne Shirley, my beloved Anne girl, has a new look. Blonde, buxom, and wearing a 21st century "fake farmer" shirt, as my daughter put it.
That's the cover picture for the new publishing of the book, Anne of Green Gables.
Blonde? Hello! She was a redhead! That's a very central part of the book. And she's leaning attractively on a bale of hay, fingers combing through her hair, with a look that says, "Well, hello there!" Boiling, I tell you!
Apparently, I'm not the only one. As of this moment, there are over 350 negative reviews on Amazon for this specific edition and guess what they are upset about? The cover! There are comments ranging from the over-sexualization of girls to the mere fact that this girl on the cover doesn't look anything like Anne Shirley.
And yes, I wrote one! And no, I wasn't subtle.
In fact, I also created a facebook page for people to post their opinion that I could then pass on to the publishers in a form of a link. (AnneShirleyIsNOTBlonde) Kind of like an online suggestion box. Or online army of women. As of right now, there are 17 people who have "liked" the page and 3 comments, not counting my own. Not exactly viral, but at least I felt like I was doing something. (Does that make me a micro-activist?)
While my facebook page was far from highly populated, the buzz about this new cover was definitely heard on the internet! News articles started popping up and, according to one news source, Twitter was all chirpy. The 17 of us were not alone.
And then I couldn't believe my eyes...
After over 350 reviews, suddenly Amazon is "Temporarily out of stock!" Wait-people aren't buying these, are they?
Or maybe the fact that Amazon also took the picture off of their website means that our voices were heard, very loud and quite clear! i can't wait to hear what Amazon says tomorrow!
But in all this mess, I began to wonder, Who is this girl?
The picture is a photograph, not a drawing. This is a picture of a real girl. She'll be reading the comments about how sexy she looks, her bedroom eyes, her come hither look, and her buxom body. She'll read about how this picture looks trashy, about her looking vampy, and she will read review titles like, "It's Anne of Green Gables, not Anne DOES Green Gables." What will she be thinking?
I have to wonder if she'll think, "It's just my Senior picture, people!" because, honestly, it looks like a lot of Senior pictures I've seen.
Will she think, "What? There's not even cleavage. My picture is far less provocative than your Facebook profile picture!"
Will she feel misunderstood? Will she go to school tomorrow and be swarmed with boys? Will the girls give her dirty looks? (Assuming she's under 18.) Or maybe she'll just stay home tomorrow.
Compared to what I see many girls wearing today, she's very modestly dressed. And the way she's leaned against the hay bale, combing her fingers through her hair, and the way she is looking at the camera is hard to quantify. But somehow, when you put this picture in the context of Anne Shirley, it turns sensual.
Turns sensual or, sitting in place of Anne Shirley, does the body language become glaringly obvious that there's a lot more to sex appeal than high heels and low-cut dresses? Perhaps that's the object lesson (no pun intended) we needed to see.
Personally, I think the picture is inappropriate and the publishers are using sex appeal to get people to buy the book, which is peddled to 10 year old girls, no less. I'm really not OK with that. But I have to wonder if this girl will be turning her tears into her pillow tonight, trying to sort out all the mixed messages we send.
Well, rage might be exaggerating, but my blood was boiling and it took me longer than 2 minutes to fall asleep (nearly a record). I was offended, shocked, angry, and I was having a hard time putting it into words. Anne Shirley, my beloved Anne girl, has a new look. Blonde, buxom, and wearing a 21st century "fake farmer" shirt, as my daughter put it.
That's the cover picture for the new publishing of the book, Anne of Green Gables.
Blonde? Hello! She was a redhead! That's a very central part of the book. And she's leaning attractively on a bale of hay, fingers combing through her hair, with a look that says, "Well, hello there!" Boiling, I tell you!
Apparently, I'm not the only one. As of this moment, there are over 350 negative reviews on Amazon for this specific edition and guess what they are upset about? The cover! There are comments ranging from the over-sexualization of girls to the mere fact that this girl on the cover doesn't look anything like Anne Shirley.
And yes, I wrote one! And no, I wasn't subtle.
In fact, I also created a facebook page for people to post their opinion that I could then pass on to the publishers in a form of a link. (AnneShirleyIsNOTBlonde) Kind of like an online suggestion box. Or online army of women. As of right now, there are 17 people who have "liked" the page and 3 comments, not counting my own. Not exactly viral, but at least I felt like I was doing something. (Does that make me a micro-activist?)
While my facebook page was far from highly populated, the buzz about this new cover was definitely heard on the internet! News articles started popping up and, according to one news source, Twitter was all chirpy. The 17 of us were not alone.
And then I couldn't believe my eyes...
After over 350 reviews, suddenly Amazon is "Temporarily out of stock!" Wait-people aren't buying these, are they?
Or maybe the fact that Amazon also took the picture off of their website means that our voices were heard, very loud and quite clear! i can't wait to hear what Amazon says tomorrow!
But in all this mess, I began to wonder, Who is this girl?
The picture is a photograph, not a drawing. This is a picture of a real girl. She'll be reading the comments about how sexy she looks, her bedroom eyes, her come hither look, and her buxom body. She'll read about how this picture looks trashy, about her looking vampy, and she will read review titles like, "It's Anne of Green Gables, not Anne DOES Green Gables." What will she be thinking?
I have to wonder if she'll think, "It's just my Senior picture, people!" because, honestly, it looks like a lot of Senior pictures I've seen.
Will she think, "What? There's not even cleavage. My picture is far less provocative than your Facebook profile picture!"
Will she feel misunderstood? Will she go to school tomorrow and be swarmed with boys? Will the girls give her dirty looks? (Assuming she's under 18.) Or maybe she'll just stay home tomorrow.
Compared to what I see many girls wearing today, she's very modestly dressed. And the way she's leaned against the hay bale, combing her fingers through her hair, and the way she is looking at the camera is hard to quantify. But somehow, when you put this picture in the context of Anne Shirley, it turns sensual.
Turns sensual or, sitting in place of Anne Shirley, does the body language become glaringly obvious that there's a lot more to sex appeal than high heels and low-cut dresses? Perhaps that's the object lesson (no pun intended) we needed to see.
Personally, I think the picture is inappropriate and the publishers are using sex appeal to get people to buy the book, which is peddled to 10 year old girls, no less. I'm really not OK with that. But I have to wonder if this girl will be turning her tears into her pillow tonight, trying to sort out all the mixed messages we send.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Demon Possession-That's Crazy Stuff, Right?
I have been challenged.
I am reading "Revolution in World Missions" by K.P. Yohannah. (Get it free here.) He is the founder of Gospel for Asia. His organization is doing amazing things. They are building schools, finding sponsors for missionaries, women, and children, building Jesus Wells (clean water), providing farm animals to villages, they have a radio ministry, they are helping in flood relief efforts, and running Bible colleges. All of this in the name of Jesus. This book is his journey on the mission field. He has been beaten, stoned, received death threats, seen thousands come to Christ, and witnessed miracles and cast out demons.
And I'm only on Chapter 2.
Cast out demons. Ummm... that's all fake, right? Or at most it's what used to happen. You know, back in Bible times. Christ and many of his followers cast out demons, but everything I've seen as far as miracles and demon possession goes looks fake. I've seen the televangelists and I just want to scream when they start asking for money for some holy prayer towel or special prayers from them, as if they possess a special favor with God that He would hear their prayers, but not the prayer of the one in need. Those "pastors" have fraud written all over them. It's the same deception and manipulation as the selling of indulgences.
I have never seen demon possession or miracles like you read about in the Bible in person. Sounds downright scary.
As I read the pages of this book, I think of the people I know who have said that they witnessed these sorts of things first hand. I'm incredibly skeptical, even though I trust that these people are telling me the truth. I just don't know if they saw what they think they saw.
I think about the missionaries I've read about who say they are doing healings in the streets and it's always accompanied by speaking in tongues in a way that I don't find Biblical, although I trust their sincerity. Something is happening, I'm just not ready to say they are speaking in the "tongues of angels." Should I not accept a reality that includes demon possession and healings because I do not accept the reality of tongues today as I see in scripture?
Ugh! These are big questions for someone who has gone to a Baptist church since birth!
A large part of why I want to go on a mission trip is because I want to see for myself if what I read and hear about is true. I am a highly skeptical person, I think because of how many times I have believed something and found it to be false. Our world is surrounded by lies. Nearly every advertisement lies. Nearly every politician lies. Hollywood lies continually. And I have to admit that when email was new and snopes.com did not exist, I fell for a lot of urban legends and jaw-dropping, fabricated lies.
Is poverty as bad as the media reports? (Speaking of lies, I failed to mention the media!) Are the stories they tell the exception or is it common? Are people in poverty really as happy as people tell me they are, despite their ghastly circumstances? And are there really miracles and demons cast out in other countries? Is it really, truly like what I read in the Bible? Are we more progressed in the USA and know better than to believe this or have we, swimming in our riches and comfortable lives, regressed into spiritual apathy and powerlessness?
I was once a part of a Baptist church that was full of people who were ready to experience Christianity differently. They were ready to do things that they saw as Biblical, even if it meant that other Baptist churches in our association would call us heretics. (As far as I know, they didn't.) It probably sounds like child's play to those in charismatic churches, but we decided to lay hands on a woman who had been experiencing back pain for years. She laid on the pew many Sundays because of the pain. She was tired of trying this and that and experiencing little or no relief. And so we prayed. The entire congregation gathered around her, laid hands on her, and prayed.
Within 2 weeks she received a call from a doctor, saying they had a new treatment. She experienced incredible results! It was thrilling to see God work! She wasn't healed instantly. She wasn't healed completely. But I find it hard to believe that it was all a coincidence or that our prayers were like a placebo effect. It was God, I know it! I cherish those times.
I don't want to spoil the story, so if you have a chance to hear Francis Chan speak on what happened with his ministry event in San Francisco with Trader Joe's, DO IT!!! My jaw literally dropped. It wasn't Jesus turning 5 loaves and 2 fishes into a meal for thousands...with leftovers...(Matthew 14 and 15) but it was no doubt supernatural. It was God!
And Francis Chan says that miracles are happening and he says that he is seeing things like they did in the Bible, like he always wanted to see today, but figured they were all in the past. He, like me, wondered if those things still happened today and he has discovered that they do!
Whoa! Really??? This is a new thing to him. When I read his books and hear his words I think, "You are reading my mind!" He had the same questions, the same thoughts. What exactly is he now experiencing? Does he mean all of it or just the obvious Divine intervention? Is he telling the truth? I have no reason to doubt that he is.
And here I am once again, just like when I started this whole journey, full of questions with little answers. And I have to admit that it's scary to ask these questions. I don't want to play the fool and find out that, once again, I have been lied to. And I don't want to find myself with answers that I don't like. I may find out that everything I have believed so far is true. Or I might not. Or maybe I'll find out I'm asking the wrong questions. I just want to see it for myself.
I am reading "Revolution in World Missions" by K.P. Yohannah. (Get it free here.) He is the founder of Gospel for Asia. His organization is doing amazing things. They are building schools, finding sponsors for missionaries, women, and children, building Jesus Wells (clean water), providing farm animals to villages, they have a radio ministry, they are helping in flood relief efforts, and running Bible colleges. All of this in the name of Jesus. This book is his journey on the mission field. He has been beaten, stoned, received death threats, seen thousands come to Christ, and witnessed miracles and cast out demons.
And I'm only on Chapter 2.
Cast out demons. Ummm... that's all fake, right? Or at most it's what used to happen. You know, back in Bible times. Christ and many of his followers cast out demons, but everything I've seen as far as miracles and demon possession goes looks fake. I've seen the televangelists and I just want to scream when they start asking for money for some holy prayer towel or special prayers from them, as if they possess a special favor with God that He would hear their prayers, but not the prayer of the one in need. Those "pastors" have fraud written all over them. It's the same deception and manipulation as the selling of indulgences.
I have never seen demon possession or miracles like you read about in the Bible in person. Sounds downright scary.
As I read the pages of this book, I think of the people I know who have said that they witnessed these sorts of things first hand. I'm incredibly skeptical, even though I trust that these people are telling me the truth. I just don't know if they saw what they think they saw.
I think about the missionaries I've read about who say they are doing healings in the streets and it's always accompanied by speaking in tongues in a way that I don't find Biblical, although I trust their sincerity. Something is happening, I'm just not ready to say they are speaking in the "tongues of angels." Should I not accept a reality that includes demon possession and healings because I do not accept the reality of tongues today as I see in scripture?
Ugh! These are big questions for someone who has gone to a Baptist church since birth!
A large part of why I want to go on a mission trip is because I want to see for myself if what I read and hear about is true. I am a highly skeptical person, I think because of how many times I have believed something and found it to be false. Our world is surrounded by lies. Nearly every advertisement lies. Nearly every politician lies. Hollywood lies continually. And I have to admit that when email was new and snopes.com did not exist, I fell for a lot of urban legends and jaw-dropping, fabricated lies.
Is poverty as bad as the media reports? (Speaking of lies, I failed to mention the media!) Are the stories they tell the exception or is it common? Are people in poverty really as happy as people tell me they are, despite their ghastly circumstances? And are there really miracles and demons cast out in other countries? Is it really, truly like what I read in the Bible? Are we more progressed in the USA and know better than to believe this or have we, swimming in our riches and comfortable lives, regressed into spiritual apathy and powerlessness?
I was once a part of a Baptist church that was full of people who were ready to experience Christianity differently. They were ready to do things that they saw as Biblical, even if it meant that other Baptist churches in our association would call us heretics. (As far as I know, they didn't.) It probably sounds like child's play to those in charismatic churches, but we decided to lay hands on a woman who had been experiencing back pain for years. She laid on the pew many Sundays because of the pain. She was tired of trying this and that and experiencing little or no relief. And so we prayed. The entire congregation gathered around her, laid hands on her, and prayed.
Within 2 weeks she received a call from a doctor, saying they had a new treatment. She experienced incredible results! It was thrilling to see God work! She wasn't healed instantly. She wasn't healed completely. But I find it hard to believe that it was all a coincidence or that our prayers were like a placebo effect. It was God, I know it! I cherish those times.
I don't want to spoil the story, so if you have a chance to hear Francis Chan speak on what happened with his ministry event in San Francisco with Trader Joe's, DO IT!!! My jaw literally dropped. It wasn't Jesus turning 5 loaves and 2 fishes into a meal for thousands...with leftovers...(Matthew 14 and 15) but it was no doubt supernatural. It was God!
And Francis Chan says that miracles are happening and he says that he is seeing things like they did in the Bible, like he always wanted to see today, but figured they were all in the past. He, like me, wondered if those things still happened today and he has discovered that they do!
Whoa! Really??? This is a new thing to him. When I read his books and hear his words I think, "You are reading my mind!" He had the same questions, the same thoughts. What exactly is he now experiencing? Does he mean all of it or just the obvious Divine intervention? Is he telling the truth? I have no reason to doubt that he is.
And here I am once again, just like when I started this whole journey, full of questions with little answers. And I have to admit that it's scary to ask these questions. I don't want to play the fool and find out that, once again, I have been lied to. And I don't want to find myself with answers that I don't like. I may find out that everything I have believed so far is true. Or I might not. Or maybe I'll find out I'm asking the wrong questions. I just want to see it for myself.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
What If I Never Go?
I think the thing I have battled most over the last year is the knowledge that I may never get to go on a mission trip.
I believe from the bottom of my heart that God has put this desire in me and I know without a doubt that He is calling me to go on a mission trip. But God hasn't told me where. So many times in scripture Jesus explained things to his disciples and they almost always took it to mean something physical while Jesus was trying to teach them something spiritual. I picture Jesus banging his head against the wall saying, "C'mon, people! Don't you get it?" What if my mission trip is not on the physical world map, but in the familiar - but mostly uncharted- territory of my heart?
What if I never actually go on a mission trip? What if the sacrifice God wants of me is to let go of my desire to see first hand all that I have learned and to be physically present with the children of India or somewhere else? What if the money I would spend on a mission trip is the money that God is asking me to give away? That does make the most sense. After all, the amount of money it takes to buy plane tickets alone for our family is enough to build a school house, sponsor almost 18 children for a year, sponsor one child all the way through adulthood, buy 7 Jesus Wells, provide 54 pairs of milk-producing goats to be divided among several villages, or a blanket for 625 cold children. Logically speaking, going on a mission trip is completely contrary to my greater desire to change a life.
If I preach sacrifice, I need to be willing to do it myself.
I may never get to go overseas on a mission trip. I may never be the one to hold the hand of a child who needs someone to show them love. I may never have that mission trip experience I hear others talk about and that I long for... and I need to be OK with that.
What if I never go? If I'm going to do this Christian thing for real, I need to be willing to accept whatever God's answer is to that question.
It's been a year and I'm still struggling with that one.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Ridiculous Blog Post (Rewrite)
I got notice today that I am now a blogging partner with Gospel for Asia. I'm pretty excited about it, in a solemn way. I have learned so much this past year about India. What started as a simple read of a book that was highly recommended by friends turned into a burning desire to go to the "least of these" on a mission trip. God has been working on my heart and my mind and it has lead me to this point where I feel I must do something or resign myself to living as a hypocrite. I know too much.
In my searching and researching, I came across another book, "No Longer a Slumdog." It was written by K.P. Yohannan the founder of Gospel for Asia. I'll tell you more about that at another time, but as I learned more about K.P. Yohannan's ministry, I discovered a list of ways one can help. What a wonderful list! There were many simple things...easy things...on the list that made me feel as though I sincerely could make a difference. One of them was to become a blogging partner.
Being a blogging partner for Gospel for Asia is not "THE" thing I have decided to do; it is what I know I can do right now. I don't know where this burning desire to help people, especially children, overseas (or even if it will be overseas) will lead me, but I invite you along with me as I figure it out. Maybe you'll figure out a few things about yourself.
Here is a post I wrote on the MyPoorHusband blog in November of 2011, just over a year ago. I entitled it, "Ridiculous Blog Post," because it was a post of a serious nature on a blog that was not. It was written not long after I read the book recommended to me by my friends. I have grown much since writing this and I am anxious to share it with you. I figure this is the best place to start.
Ridiculous Blog Post
I read a book several months ago called, "Crazy Love" by Francis Chan. Very challenging book. It left me with a lot of hard questions and really no answers. There is a part in the book that has haunted me. This isn't a direct quote, but the idea is that we ask God why there are starving children in the world. But perhaps God is asking us the same question.
Hmmm... as I type on my Macbook, listening to one of my 8,000 songs I have purchased throughout the years, my belly full after eating out and trying to ignore the Klondike bars in the freezer while my children lay peacefully in their beds, warm and safe in a house that has plenty of room for every person to have their own space.
I don't know where that leaves me. I don't know what my responsibility is to others in this world whose children are sleeping in a trash heap tonight after eating whatever they could find and drinking water that is full of things that could possibly kill them. What am I to do about children in India who are being picked up by evil people who will cut off an arm and a leg of a defenseless child, then send him out to the streets to beg money for his master? What is my responsibility to the 10 year old girl who is putting on a sexy outfit and makeup, waiting in fear for the next man to come into her room?
I want to jump off my couch, get on a plane and go rescue that little child. All the children. Yes, I want to rescue all of them.
There is a possibility of our family going to India in the future to work in an orphanage. There are two details that remain to be worked out and that is which orphanage to go to and the other is how-in-the-world-are-we-going-to-get-there? That's a pretty big detail and while there are things that make me hopeful, I'm not counting my chickens (or plane tickets) just yet. In the meantime, I am doing a lot of reading about India and I am realizing something - I am very naive! And that scares me because that means I really don't know what I'm getting myself into.
But the more I find out, the more I feel the need to help. When I read that they are having re-naming ceremonies for girls who were named "Nakoshi", or "Unwanted" at birth, I realize that I have no idea what it is like outside of my own comfortable world. When I read that India is considered to be the second largest "child flesh" industry hub in the world, I feel sick. So sick that after my initial physical response, my secondary response is to emotionally turn my head the other way, to go back to my happy place where MY children are safe and MY children are loved, nourished, and wanted. Yes, just stay here and make sure I do my part by keeping MY children out of harm's way. Good enough.
That lasts for about 5 seconds and then my heart breaks and I feel scared and I feel like I MUST do something. I must make a difference.
But how? It's too big for just me or even a large group of me's. Look at all the organizations out there who work and give and give some more and it seems that the problem of poverty and abuse in the world is just as strong as it ever was. What more could I possibly add? After knowing what I know, what is my responsibility?
Should I throw a few more dollars into the offering plate? Fill a few more shoeboxes for the Operation Christmas Child distribution? Sponsor a child overseas? Bring a child into our home and spend the thousands of dollars to adopt them? Move to India and spend the rest of my life giving a few children an opportunity to get out of the life they currently know? Start a movement to end it all? Give my life to affect change in the world?
Do you see where I am going with this? I could do any one of these things, but what is it that a fellow human being should do? I'm not asking what's the minimum, I'm asking where does my responsibility to the children of the world start and the responsibility to my own children end? Should my children have to have a lower level of education so that a child in India can have one? Should my children go without toys at Christmas so that someone else's children can have dinner on Christmas? Can someone complete this thought for me because I am having a hard time even forming the question.
God doesn't say that it's wrong to have, but He certainly has a lot to say about having a hard heart toward those who have not.
At this point in my life, I am seriously at a loss. I do not have an answer other than I know I must take care of my own children (how that's defined, I don't know) and that what is expected of each of us is different. Maybe my realm of influence lies right here in my own country. Maybe that's exactly where God wants me and I got lucky because I don't have to go out into a scary world to make a difference. Maybe I am exactly where I can make the most difference. Then again, what if He is asking me to do more than I am willing to do?
I am hoping that a trip to see with my own eyes what life is like outside of the wealthy U.S. of A. will help me process these questions and that my eyes would be open enough to understand the answers. I hope that one day I will sit down to write another ridiculously serious blog post and be able to tell you that I know exactly what it is that God wants from me and that I will wholeheartedly abandon myself to it, whether it be a stronger commitment to where I am now, a less comfortable way of living, or a life with new horizons and greater sacrifice.
In my searching and researching, I came across another book, "No Longer a Slumdog." It was written by K.P. Yohannan the founder of Gospel for Asia. I'll tell you more about that at another time, but as I learned more about K.P. Yohannan's ministry, I discovered a list of ways one can help. What a wonderful list! There were many simple things...easy things...on the list that made me feel as though I sincerely could make a difference. One of them was to become a blogging partner.
Being a blogging partner for Gospel for Asia is not "THE" thing I have decided to do; it is what I know I can do right now. I don't know where this burning desire to help people, especially children, overseas (or even if it will be overseas) will lead me, but I invite you along with me as I figure it out. Maybe you'll figure out a few things about yourself.
Here is a post I wrote on the MyPoorHusband blog in November of 2011, just over a year ago. I entitled it, "Ridiculous Blog Post," because it was a post of a serious nature on a blog that was not. It was written not long after I read the book recommended to me by my friends. I have grown much since writing this and I am anxious to share it with you. I figure this is the best place to start.
Ridiculous Blog Post
I read a book several months ago called, "Crazy Love" by Francis Chan. Very challenging book. It left me with a lot of hard questions and really no answers. There is a part in the book that has haunted me. This isn't a direct quote, but the idea is that we ask God why there are starving children in the world. But perhaps God is asking us the same question.
Hmmm... as I type on my Macbook, listening to one of my 8,000 songs I have purchased throughout the years, my belly full after eating out and trying to ignore the Klondike bars in the freezer while my children lay peacefully in their beds, warm and safe in a house that has plenty of room for every person to have their own space.
I don't know where that leaves me. I don't know what my responsibility is to others in this world whose children are sleeping in a trash heap tonight after eating whatever they could find and drinking water that is full of things that could possibly kill them. What am I to do about children in India who are being picked up by evil people who will cut off an arm and a leg of a defenseless child, then send him out to the streets to beg money for his master? What is my responsibility to the 10 year old girl who is putting on a sexy outfit and makeup, waiting in fear for the next man to come into her room?
I want to jump off my couch, get on a plane and go rescue that little child. All the children. Yes, I want to rescue all of them.
There is a possibility of our family going to India in the future to work in an orphanage. There are two details that remain to be worked out and that is which orphanage to go to and the other is how-in-the-world-are-we-going-to-get-there? That's a pretty big detail and while there are things that make me hopeful, I'm not counting my chickens (or plane tickets) just yet. In the meantime, I am doing a lot of reading about India and I am realizing something - I am very naive! And that scares me because that means I really don't know what I'm getting myself into.
But the more I find out, the more I feel the need to help. When I read that they are having re-naming ceremonies for girls who were named "Nakoshi", or "Unwanted" at birth, I realize that I have no idea what it is like outside of my own comfortable world. When I read that India is considered to be the second largest "child flesh" industry hub in the world, I feel sick. So sick that after my initial physical response, my secondary response is to emotionally turn my head the other way, to go back to my happy place where MY children are safe and MY children are loved, nourished, and wanted. Yes, just stay here and make sure I do my part by keeping MY children out of harm's way. Good enough.
That lasts for about 5 seconds and then my heart breaks and I feel scared and I feel like I MUST do something. I must make a difference.
But how? It's too big for just me or even a large group of me's. Look at all the organizations out there who work and give and give some more and it seems that the problem of poverty and abuse in the world is just as strong as it ever was. What more could I possibly add? After knowing what I know, what is my responsibility?
Should I throw a few more dollars into the offering plate? Fill a few more shoeboxes for the Operation Christmas Child distribution? Sponsor a child overseas? Bring a child into our home and spend the thousands of dollars to adopt them? Move to India and spend the rest of my life giving a few children an opportunity to get out of the life they currently know? Start a movement to end it all? Give my life to affect change in the world?
Do you see where I am going with this? I could do any one of these things, but what is it that a fellow human being should do? I'm not asking what's the minimum, I'm asking where does my responsibility to the children of the world start and the responsibility to my own children end? Should my children have to have a lower level of education so that a child in India can have one? Should my children go without toys at Christmas so that someone else's children can have dinner on Christmas? Can someone complete this thought for me because I am having a hard time even forming the question.
God doesn't say that it's wrong to have, but He certainly has a lot to say about having a hard heart toward those who have not.
At this point in my life, I am seriously at a loss. I do not have an answer other than I know I must take care of my own children (how that's defined, I don't know) and that what is expected of each of us is different. Maybe my realm of influence lies right here in my own country. Maybe that's exactly where God wants me and I got lucky because I don't have to go out into a scary world to make a difference. Maybe I am exactly where I can make the most difference. Then again, what if He is asking me to do more than I am willing to do?
I am hoping that a trip to see with my own eyes what life is like outside of the wealthy U.S. of A. will help me process these questions and that my eyes would be open enough to understand the answers. I hope that one day I will sit down to write another ridiculously serious blog post and be able to tell you that I know exactly what it is that God wants from me and that I will wholeheartedly abandon myself to it, whether it be a stronger commitment to where I am now, a less comfortable way of living, or a life with new horizons and greater sacrifice.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
I Salute You: What You Didn't See
There are so many things I'd like to tell you about my days at Pacific Coast Christian Academy. The stories are so rich, so incredibly heartbreaking at times, and encompass some of the most beautiful, truly indescribable, moments of my life. Someday, when the kids are old enough to grant me their permission and old enough to look at their life through the eyes of an adult, I hope to tell you some of these stories. I hope I can find the words.
There are some that are equally as beautiful that I am free to tell and I believe this one is worth telling.
I know this is a blog...where you read...and I'm supposed to spend the time writing this all out, and you're supposed to take the time to read it, but it is much better explained if you watch something first. It's a video clip of a school's musical that I directed, "I Salute You." What an amazing night. But please, you must see this:
Here is what you may have seen:
I didn't get to see any of the service men and women stand. I didn't get to see the standing ovation they received. I didn't get to see the tears or the looks of gratitude on the audience's faces, but I got the best view in the house!!!
First, a little background. How would you explain this song to a child? How do you explain a World War, a tyrant, or a terrorist? How do you explain sacrifice? That was my challenge. I wanted to make this real to them. Not scary, but real. I didn't just want them to sing about being grateful, I wanted them to feel it. Sounds easy, until you realize that the kids only heard the first 10 seconds of what you just said and you were just warming up!
I started with vocabulary.
"Johnny, what is a distant land?"
"Somewhere far away like Canada or Texas," little Johnny replies.
"Oh, yes. That is far away! Did you know there are places so far away that right now it's their bedtime and they are already in their pajamas sleeping?" (Kids gasp and look at each other, trying to see if their friend believes it so they know if they should believe it, too.)
"Did you know that there are soldiers that had to say goodbye and go to a distant land?" And there we have the first line of our song and we learn it and sing it. "Saying goodbye for a distant land."
"What's a limb?" I ask.
"It's like, a part of a tree," someone answers.
"Yes, that is true. Did you know it also means something else? What do you think, Sally?"
"Like a lemon?" (pronounced: lim-in or limb-in. Get it?)
"Hmmmm.... not exactly, but good idea! Put your arms out. Look at your legs. Those are your limbs. Did you know that some soldiers don't die (dramatic pause) but when they come home they don't have all of their limbs?" And there is another line. "Giving up life and limb and home and family."
Takes awhile, but when the kids learn the song, they know what they are singing about. And yet, sacrifice is such an abstract idea for the little ones and not much of a reality for the older ones just yet. HOW DO I HELP THEM GET IT?
These songs were not easy. They were written for adults to sing, not kids. I had to do some arranging here and there, but these kids had to work HARD! The words were big, the notes were long, the pitches got real low and real high. They had never worked so hard before and I am still proud of them!
About a week before the big night, the Junior High teacher said to me, "They don't get it. I keep trying to tell my kids but they just don't get it."
I wrote to some soldiers I knew. One gave me some suggestions and another sent us a letter. It was beautiful. Although this post is getting quite long, I want to share it with you. It's not only worth the read, it's from a soldier's heart. I ask you, in honor of those who have vowed to give their life to defend your freedom, that you read it in its entirety.
The big night was on a chapel day at school. I couldn't wait to read this letter to the kids! Major Farrell's wife worked as a teacher at our school a few years before. Many of the children remembered her and many others remembered her children, which were also their classmates. This would be perfect!
In the meantime, the Junior High teacher, Mrs. Morgan prepared a video she had found. It was a beautiful video about veterans and patriotism. Very touching, especially after reading them the letter.
I know this is a blog...where you read...and I'm supposed to spend the time writing this all out, and you're supposed to take the time to read it, but it is much better explained if you watch something first. It's a video clip of a school's musical that I directed, "I Salute You." What an amazing night. But please, you must see this:
Here is what you may have seen:
- A video in the background.
- Some narrators.
- Some soloists.
- 70-some-odd K-8th graders singing all together on one stage, at one time.
- A left-handed salute.
- A little girl pulling something out of another girl's hair.
- A picture of a soldier or a memorial that made you remember.
- Maybe you pictured the service men and women standing as the applause took over the sound of the those 70+ little singers. If you were one of those service men or women, I hope you heard a room full of grateful Americans.
But there was something you didn't see.
I didn't get to see any of the service men and women stand. I didn't get to see the standing ovation they received. I didn't get to see the tears or the looks of gratitude on the audience's faces, but I got the best view in the house!!!
First, a little background. How would you explain this song to a child? How do you explain a World War, a tyrant, or a terrorist? How do you explain sacrifice? That was my challenge. I wanted to make this real to them. Not scary, but real. I didn't just want them to sing about being grateful, I wanted them to feel it. Sounds easy, until you realize that the kids only heard the first 10 seconds of what you just said and you were just warming up!
I started with vocabulary.
"Johnny, what is a distant land?"
"Somewhere far away like Canada or Texas," little Johnny replies.
"Oh, yes. That is far away! Did you know there are places so far away that right now it's their bedtime and they are already in their pajamas sleeping?" (Kids gasp and look at each other, trying to see if their friend believes it so they know if they should believe it, too.)
"Did you know that there are soldiers that had to say goodbye and go to a distant land?" And there we have the first line of our song and we learn it and sing it. "Saying goodbye for a distant land."
"What's a limb?" I ask.
"It's like, a part of a tree," someone answers.
"Yes, that is true. Did you know it also means something else? What do you think, Sally?"
"Like a lemon?" (pronounced: lim-in or limb-in. Get it?)
"Hmmmm.... not exactly, but good idea! Put your arms out. Look at your legs. Those are your limbs. Did you know that some soldiers don't die (dramatic pause) but when they come home they don't have all of their limbs?" And there is another line. "Giving up life and limb and home and family."
Takes awhile, but when the kids learn the song, they know what they are singing about. And yet, sacrifice is such an abstract idea for the little ones and not much of a reality for the older ones just yet. HOW DO I HELP THEM GET IT?
These songs were not easy. They were written for adults to sing, not kids. I had to do some arranging here and there, but these kids had to work HARD! The words were big, the notes were long, the pitches got real low and real high. They had never worked so hard before and I am still proud of them!
About a week before the big night, the Junior High teacher said to me, "They don't get it. I keep trying to tell my kids but they just don't get it."
I wrote to some soldiers I knew. One gave me some suggestions and another sent us a letter. It was beautiful. Although this post is getting quite long, I want to share it with you. It's not only worth the read, it's from a soldier's heart. I ask you, in honor of those who have vowed to give their life to defend your freedom, that you read it in its entirety.
The fact that America has been blessed with our freedom for over 235 years is solely due to God’s divine providence and the liberty he has bestowed on our people. One quote I read a few years into my 22-year career as a Marine was from Thomas Jefferson.
"The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. -- Thomas Jefferson, 1787
Throughout my time in the Corps I have made many relationships, friendships, and life changing experiences. None was more important than when I trusted the Lord as my personal Savior on 11 Nov 1990; between the Marine Corps Birthday and Veteran’s Day. I bring this up in relation with the quote I earlier mentioned, before I only knew liberty as a citizen of the greatest nation in the world. After salvation I realized the true Liberty, which Christ has provided to my country and me…only if the people ask and seek his face.
Another significant event that the Lord has blessed me with is the terrific woman He has allowed me to call my friend and wife for over 18 years. She has been my faithful companion, sounding board, and steadfast partner in my career as a Marine. Along the way she has provided three beautiful children Cody, Ethan and Rylee. Robyn, as well as the kids, has spent holidays, birthdays, and many other of life’s moments alone…and the kids away from their Dad…because I was off training, participating, fighting in what Thomas Jefferson referred to as the “Tree of Liberty”. They’ve experienced moving from place to place throughout the United States to Overseas, seven times. It’s been difficult saying “See you later” to friends, making new friends, learning new cultures and experiencing financial hardships with setting up a new home. It has not always been easy, but they have always kept a positive attitude and faced new experience with help from the Lord. PCCA had a significant part in their lives while we were there from 2004-2006. Rylee and Ethan, at Little Lamb’s; Cody 2nd and 3rd Grade; and Robyn was able to teach 1st and 2nd. The friends we made while there will always be recalled in fond memory, as we look at our family pictures taken while living in Salinas. We truly enjoyed living there and having your ministry a part of our daily lives.
My career has taken me from Australia to Somalia, from peacetime operations to wartime operations, from times of joy to times of sorrow. Some of the friends I’ve made along the way will not return home to their loved ones. Their wives, children, mother, father, brother and sisters will never see them again because their blood was shed for that “Tree of Liberty”. But, I do know, FOR A FACT, any Marine who gives his life on the field of battle is honored to go before those tyrants who want to challenge our liberties and our way of life. Knowing their sacrifices, for God, Country, Corps will provide the protective cover for our way of life to proceed in eventual peace. No veteran will ever say we thirst for war, just like they will never say; war will never happen. Freedom, Liberty, Our Way of Life in America is a lighthouse for those in the world and will constantly be challenged by those tyrants who choose to oppress the weak in mind and spirit.
It’s those things, which called me to service and continue to stoke the fire I have, as a Marine. I whole-heartedly believe--and I have personally seen, the worst in the world and the best in the world--that America is the greatest country in the world. This is a testament to our founding fathers and their recognition of God Almighty.
I sincerely appreciate the time and sacrifice you have made in preparation for this program. I salute you for your efforts, and I pray it’s a successful opportunity to both show appreciation to our troops, as well as a moment to reflect on the goodness of Christ in our lives and his hand of protection he has on our Country.
Semper Fidelis,
Major Michael M. Farrell
Josh 1:8
The big night was on a chapel day at school. I couldn't wait to read this letter to the kids! Major Farrell's wife worked as a teacher at our school a few years before. Many of the children remembered her and many others remembered her children, which were also their classmates. This would be perfect!
In the meantime, the Junior High teacher, Mrs. Morgan prepared a video she had found. It was a beautiful video about veterans and patriotism. Very touching, especially after reading them the letter.
I'm having a hard time putting into words what that moment was like. The teachers were all in tears. The children were solemn. I'm not sure if they still quite understood, but seeing their teachers' reactions made them take note and it made them sing with power!
It carried over that night onto the stage. They were a-maz-ing! Right now I could go on and on about these kids. But, while you can't really know just how good they were by watching the video, you can see that these kids didn't just get up there and do this half-heartedly. They did it with energy and enthusiasm and they did it at each and every program, all 16 of them that we did over the 8 years I was there. They made me so incredibly proud!
But this night was unlike any other. I got to see what you didn't see. In fact, it's impossible to see in this video, even though I know what to look for.
While each branch of the armed forces was called and our brave soldiers stood, I had a front row view of the children. Zachariah called out the first branch of the armed forces.
"United States Army!"
They stopped watching me. They looked out as dozens of soldiers rose to their feet.
"United States Navy!"
They looked out at the veterans who defended their freedom.
"United States Coast Guard!"
They saw teachers, brothers, uncles, and total strangers stand.
One by one, as each branch of the armed forces was called, they watched and sang and in that moment I saw what you didn't see.
Their eyes widened and brightened at the same time. They smiled in a way that I have never, ever seen them smile. I'd never seen even my own children before or since with that look on their face. It was the face of gratitude and awe. It was the light of realization with the jubilant sound of gratefulness in their voices, even in a solemn moment. They didn't cry. Most of the audience was in tears, but these children smiled. I don't think there could ever be a more appropriate response for those innocent of sacrifice and the horrors of war. So pure, so true, and so humbling.
They got it! They truly got it and I got to see it!
In a moment, somehow, the abstract became concrete. It filled them with pride to be an American and to give back to these soldiers in some small way.
They were propelled out of self for a moment, perhaps for the first time in their lives.
And I saw it! I saw what you couldn't see. I saw what couldn't be captured on camera. I saw that moment and I will treasure it for as long as I live.
I hope these children remember it. Even if the little ones don't remember much of that night, I hope that the moment is stored away in their minds and in their hearts, even if it fades from their memory. I hope that as they grow into adulthood, they will not take for granted the sacrifices made. I hope they always honor those who paid the price of freedom for them.
I hope that those of you who have served our country as a member of the armed forces feel my heart. I want to thank you. May I always honor you by honoring my country and using my freedom as a means to advance her. May I represent the United States of America in a way worthy of your sacrifice and those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
I salute you.
They stopped watching me. They looked out as dozens of soldiers rose to their feet.
"United States Navy!"
They looked out at the veterans who defended their freedom.
"United States Coast Guard!"
They saw teachers, brothers, uncles, and total strangers stand.
One by one, as each branch of the armed forces was called, they watched and sang and in that moment I saw what you didn't see.
Their eyes widened and brightened at the same time. They smiled in a way that I have never, ever seen them smile. I'd never seen even my own children before or since with that look on their face. It was the face of gratitude and awe. It was the light of realization with the jubilant sound of gratefulness in their voices, even in a solemn moment. They didn't cry. Most of the audience was in tears, but these children smiled. I don't think there could ever be a more appropriate response for those innocent of sacrifice and the horrors of war. So pure, so true, and so humbling.
They got it! They truly got it and I got to see it!
In a moment, somehow, the abstract became concrete. It filled them with pride to be an American and to give back to these soldiers in some small way.
They were propelled out of self for a moment, perhaps for the first time in their lives.
And I saw it! I saw what you couldn't see. I saw what couldn't be captured on camera. I saw that moment and I will treasure it for as long as I live.
I hope these children remember it. Even if the little ones don't remember much of that night, I hope that the moment is stored away in their minds and in their hearts, even if it fades from their memory. I hope that as they grow into adulthood, they will not take for granted the sacrifices made. I hope they always honor those who paid the price of freedom for them.
I hope that those of you who have served our country as a member of the armed forces feel my heart. I want to thank you. May I always honor you by honoring my country and using my freedom as a means to advance her. May I represent the United States of America in a way worthy of your sacrifice and those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
I salute you.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Grey Hair: Bring It On!
I was the girl who couldn't wait to wear a bra.
I've always been fascinated with my femininity. Not only was I the girl who couldn't wait to wear a bra, I was also the girl in the bathroom applying chapstick and pretending it was a glossy shade of red. I loved dressing up and I loved playing with Barbies. I envied her clothes, her waistline, and her bra size, even at 7 years old. I pretended to be Scarlett O'Hara with her southern belle accent in her rich green, velvet dress and acute feminine charm. I would look in the mirror and long for the day I would look like a woman.
Some 30 years later, I find myself back in front of the mirror, noticing stretch marks, lines around my eyes, some extra pounds, and the reality that no bra can overcome gravity. As I struggle to accept middle-aged Barbie, there is one thing I find just as fascinating as a training bra...
Grey hair.
I don't remember my first grey hair, but I remember when my family started noticing it. My husband is 5 years older than me and the fact that I had grey before he did made for a lot of fun teasing. I took it as a sign of which spouse was the most stressful to live with. ;)
My son got a kick out of pulling out my grey hair. He'd snuggle up and start to twirl my hair around his fingers, then something shiny would catch his eye and he'd stand up on the couch and pluck that shiny string of silver right out! I didn't mind. After all, let him do all the work! Grey hair is a terrible thing to face. It's a hallmark of age, a sign that you are losing your youthfulness. It's a sign that the end is at least as close as your beginning. It's a sign that things are changing and going "downhill."
And I like that.
It's a sign that I've learned some things in life.
It's a sign that I've hit some hard times and lived to tell about it.
It's a sign that I am entering a new phase in my femininity, not that my femininity is fading.
I am becoming more beautiful as each grey hair appears because the outside, physically attractive or not, becomes less and less of a distraction, steering people toward the place my true beauty lies...on the inside.
All the work I've done to become more beautiful on the inside...all those demons I've conquered, all the risks I took, all the tears I've shed...are finally producing results. And those results don't shine through in your 20's. No, they begin to peek through your soul, right about the time those silvery, shiny strands of grey show up on your head.
At first, you have to really look for it. One might happen upon it, but not unless they are close enough to be in your personal space. Over time, people can see it from a distance. They don't have to try to see it, but they don't catch it at first glance. They have to take enough time to take a second look. Eventually, as more demons are conquered, risks taken, and tears shed, you have a full head of grey and it shines. It stands out. It's the first thing people notice. There is no denying your grey hair, just as there is no denying that something about you shines from the inside out.
Is my metaphor clear? As we age, we learn some things. We grow. We succeed. We become better people as we begin to accept others and accept reality. We become more beautiful on the inside as our youthful beauty fades, even to the point where people walk away having an acute awareness that we (you) are beautiful. Stunning. Perhaps even unforgettable.
I've asked my son to stop plucking my grey hair.
I don't know anyone within 10 years of my age who doesn't dye out the grey. I don't plan on dying mine. Everyone tells me that when my grey is really obvious I will eat my words. My husband thinks that it all sounds good to me now, but once I'm faced with a head of grey that others see from afar, I will look in the mirror, look at others my age who look younger with their colored hair, and make my hair appointment with super hero speed.
They might all be right. It's easy to be idealistic when your grey is tucked under the part in your hair and you have to pull it back to show it off. (Yes, I do show it off.) But for now I'm finding it absolutely fascinating, just like I was once fascinated by my changing body in adolescence. I love growing into a woman.
On my birthday, I took a picture of my silvery lock. I love that picture. I posted it on Facebook. It symbolizes all the victories I have made in my life so far and it's such a confidence boost.
I want to embrace my new femininity one grey hair at a time.
Still have to work on embracing gravity. Maybe that's what happens in your 40's. One step...one grey hair...at a time.
I've always been fascinated with my femininity. Not only was I the girl who couldn't wait to wear a bra, I was also the girl in the bathroom applying chapstick and pretending it was a glossy shade of red. I loved dressing up and I loved playing with Barbies. I envied her clothes, her waistline, and her bra size, even at 7 years old. I pretended to be Scarlett O'Hara with her southern belle accent in her rich green, velvet dress and acute feminine charm. I would look in the mirror and long for the day I would look like a woman.
Some 30 years later, I find myself back in front of the mirror, noticing stretch marks, lines around my eyes, some extra pounds, and the reality that no bra can overcome gravity. As I struggle to accept middle-aged Barbie, there is one thing I find just as fascinating as a training bra...
Grey hair.
I don't remember my first grey hair, but I remember when my family started noticing it. My husband is 5 years older than me and the fact that I had grey before he did made for a lot of fun teasing. I took it as a sign of which spouse was the most stressful to live with. ;)
My son got a kick out of pulling out my grey hair. He'd snuggle up and start to twirl my hair around his fingers, then something shiny would catch his eye and he'd stand up on the couch and pluck that shiny string of silver right out! I didn't mind. After all, let him do all the work! Grey hair is a terrible thing to face. It's a hallmark of age, a sign that you are losing your youthfulness. It's a sign that the end is at least as close as your beginning. It's a sign that things are changing and going "downhill."
And I like that.
It's a sign that I've learned some things in life.
It's a sign that I've hit some hard times and lived to tell about it.
It's a sign that I am entering a new phase in my femininity, not that my femininity is fading.
I am becoming more beautiful as each grey hair appears because the outside, physically attractive or not, becomes less and less of a distraction, steering people toward the place my true beauty lies...on the inside.
All the work I've done to become more beautiful on the inside...all those demons I've conquered, all the risks I took, all the tears I've shed...are finally producing results. And those results don't shine through in your 20's. No, they begin to peek through your soul, right about the time those silvery, shiny strands of grey show up on your head.
At first, you have to really look for it. One might happen upon it, but not unless they are close enough to be in your personal space. Over time, people can see it from a distance. They don't have to try to see it, but they don't catch it at first glance. They have to take enough time to take a second look. Eventually, as more demons are conquered, risks taken, and tears shed, you have a full head of grey and it shines. It stands out. It's the first thing people notice. There is no denying your grey hair, just as there is no denying that something about you shines from the inside out.
Is my metaphor clear? As we age, we learn some things. We grow. We succeed. We become better people as we begin to accept others and accept reality. We become more beautiful on the inside as our youthful beauty fades, even to the point where people walk away having an acute awareness that we (you) are beautiful. Stunning. Perhaps even unforgettable.
I've asked my son to stop plucking my grey hair.
I don't know anyone within 10 years of my age who doesn't dye out the grey. I don't plan on dying mine. Everyone tells me that when my grey is really obvious I will eat my words. My husband thinks that it all sounds good to me now, but once I'm faced with a head of grey that others see from afar, I will look in the mirror, look at others my age who look younger with their colored hair, and make my hair appointment with super hero speed.
They might all be right. It's easy to be idealistic when your grey is tucked under the part in your hair and you have to pull it back to show it off. (Yes, I do show it off.) But for now I'm finding it absolutely fascinating, just like I was once fascinated by my changing body in adolescence. I love growing into a woman.
On my birthday, I took a picture of my silvery lock. I love that picture. I posted it on Facebook. It symbolizes all the victories I have made in my life so far and it's such a confidence boost.
I want to embrace my new femininity one grey hair at a time.
Still have to work on embracing gravity. Maybe that's what happens in your 40's. One step...one grey hair...at a time.
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