Tuesday With Teri

          So, let me begin by confessing a slightly embarrassing endeavor…I have decided to learn how to run.  For those who do not know me personally you may ask yourself, “Learn how to run? What’s there to learn?”  For those of you who know me you are probably thinking, “Is she crazy?”  Even I wonder what I am thinking.  I am out of shape, weight challenged, and have never been able to jog for longer than a minute at a time.

         Inspired by the efforts of some of my much younger friends, I set about alternating walking with jogging.  Let’s just say that it has been a very long, unattractive process.  Imagine the panting, wheezing, plodding and whining that accompanied my jogs.  I have finally managed to jog one mile without stopping, although it takes me much longer to do so than if I WALKED one mile.

All that just to give context to my most recent adventure.

         I have found a great way to run in my neighborhood AND avoid running up hill…not an easy feat given where we live.  I walk up hill to a small church at the end of our street.  The church parking area is an oval loop, five times around it equals one mile, and it is a fairly level running area!  When I’m done I walk back down the hill toward home as I cool down. 

          The last few days I had struggled to maintain my pace and practice my mile.  I trudged along barely getting through all five laps.  I knew I needed to pick up my pace or make a change to my pattern.  I thought this would be much more difficult to do than it actually turned out to be.  All I needed was a little extra incentive. 

          I was on lap two of my five lap routine, breathing hard and glad no one was around to witness my less than graceful running style, when I was joined by a very grumpy goose.

        He flapped his wings furiously in a braking fashion, lowered his landing gear and skidded to a halt in the middle of the parking lot and my makeshift running track.  I was surprised to see a lone goose far from the local watering hole.  He seemed equally surprised to see me running around his landing area.

          I have learned that I am not good at getting started again if I stop before my mile is done, so I continued plopping my feet on the pavement in spite of the new onlooker.  I had three more laps to go and I was not going to let a goose stop me. 

Lap three, he honked and hissed as I passed him. 

 Lap four; my passing triggered an energetic head bobbing and even louder honks and squawks. 

By lap five I was fully aware of impending danger.  Mr. Grumpy Goose was now honking, squawking, bobbing his head AND following behind me!

          Let me just say, unlike other days when lap five is my slowest and most difficult to complete, I finished my jog in a full run.  Yep, goose inspired adrenalin helped me shave 2 minutes off my time!

           I walked away unscathed and feeling victorious.  I still smile when I picture that goose trying to bully me off the parking lot.  I could have let Mr. Grumpy Goose stop me moving forward.  I could have let the squawking, bobbing bird change my course.   I chose instead to keep moving forward and focused on finishing my run, even if it meant changing how I finished it.  The end result was positive.  The challenge of Mr. Grumpy Goose helped push me the little bit I needed. 

          I know God allows challenges in our lives much like Mr. Grumpy Goose.  Unfortunately I tend to think a challenge is a sign that I should stop or change.  Sometimes a challenge is there to propel us forward, quicken our pace or solidify our determination. 

As we face each grumpy goose God allows along the way, may we be encouraged and not discouraged in our journey.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love and sound judgment.” 1Timothy 1:7

Lord, help us to overcome our challenges so we may finish our race and hear You say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Remember the opening scene for the Andy Griffith Show?  The father and son stroll down a path to go fishing as a catchy tune is whistled into your memory bank.  Well, I must admit that when my daughter agreed to go fishing with me the other day that is exactly what I envisioned.  Yep, my 19yr. old daughter was willing to go fishing with me!  Ashley quickly, eagerly even, agreed to go fishing with me on the first day of her spring break!  That is as amazing as it sounds.  No begging, guilt laying or shopping promises were used to achieve this response.  She seemed genuinely excited about spending the day on this mini adventure with me and I was thrilled.  My expectation meter began to rise.   As I prepared my tackle box (translation: located it) and collected our bait (translation:got pepperoni from fridge) my expectation meter elevated to soaring.  Soon my car was loaded up with our minimal fishing gear, a big blanket, snacks and our dog Hughie(a reluctant participant).  My mood was almost jubilant as we headed to our local dock .  The sun was shining, the sky a bright blue and the air was brisk.

          Apparently “brisk” air at the house means “blustery” at the water’s edge.  We battled significant gusts of wind determined to carry out our intended adventure.  After tethering our terrified Yorkie to the dock we settled onto a blanket to prepare the lines.  We set our hooks with the pepperoni slices and began to wait for the expected encounter with Mobycat, the large catfish known to be prowling the water near our dock.  I eventually heard the words I desired most on this day, “Mom! I think I’ve got something!”  I scrambled to pull my camera from my bag to document the victory.  She struggled and worked the reel as her rod bent almost 90 degrees toward the water.  Expectations were high.  The excitement in that moment for us both can not be put into words.  Neither can the disappointment we felt when we realized her “catch” was a case of her hook embedded in a large unmovable (non-fish) object.  Let me see if I can summarize the events which followed to reduce your reading time…Our large blanket took flight and is now resting on the river’s bottom.  The dog spent the entire time entangling himself around everything in an effort to eat our bait.  We learned that while Hughie did not mind “turkey” pepperoni, apparently the catfish have more discerning taste.  We finished off our endeavour by donating 3 hooks and some fishing line to the log collection at the bottom of the river near our dock.    Needless to say the day did not meet my lofty expectations.

         Usually when a day starts with such extreme expectations and then falls short  the result is disappointment.  But this day was decidedly NOT disappointing.  I felt tremendous joy as we left the dock .  I had spent the afternoon with my daughter and she had promised to go with me again someday soon!    My joy was not impacted by the circumstances or expectations of the day.   Too often I let my expectations determine my Joy.

         John 15 contains the words of Christ as He  tries to help His disciples understand just such a thing.  He knew they would experience disappointment in this world.  In verse 10 and 11 He tells them, and us, to focus on Him and we will know joy…”if you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love; …these things I have spoken to you that My joy may be in you and that your joy may be  made full.”    I want that kind of joy, His joy.  Joy that fills us even when the world does not meet our expectations.

            This week Steven, my 22 year old, started his work as an Emergency Room Technician at a local hospital.  This is an exciting answer to prayer and hard work.  He is happy with the direction his life has taken.  It is obvious this is a perfect fit for him.  He has many unique qualities which will no doubt be helpful as he continues down this path.  I am very proud of him.   He has worked extremely hard to earn the opportunity to assist doctors and nurses as they care for those in need.   That said, I must admit there is a big part of my brain that is screaming out,  “ARE YOU GUYS CRAZY?”.   I mean, this is   “Steven”  we’re talking about.  This is the young man who in high school started an organization called  “The Canned Meat Society”,  which espoused the fine qualities of Spam and its many uses.  The young man they’ve hired is the same young man who thought bringing home a caged squirrel would be a good pet idea,  tried to nurse a wounded bird  to health resulting in said bird being miraculously healed and flying around our house for about an hour, collected fast food uniforms and paraphernalia and could often be found behind the counter of such establishments even though he’s never actually worked at one.  Believe me, these are just a few of the many oddities and adventures Steven has brought into our lives just in the last decade…there is not enough room in this blog to recount all his exploits.  And yet, as difficult as it is to grasp, there is no doubt he is good at what he does and will be  a blessing to those whose lives he will have an impact on.  I know that all he is and is becoming is the result of God’s working in his life.  “My Steven”  could not possibly help save a life or help someone feel better, but  “God’s Steven”  can do all that and more. 

            I used to think something very similar to this about myself.  I have worked as a science and math instructor for high school students for many years.  My formal education did not include any instruction as a science or math teacher. I often thought of my employers, “ARE YOU GUYS CRAZY?”.  I mean, if they only knew how unqualified I was to do what I was doing they would have to let me go.  Although my employers all knew my educational background, I couldn’t help thinking the day would come when someone finally said, “Hey, what is she doing teaching?’.  I pictured the moment like the scene in “The Wizard of Oz” where they drew back the curtain to see the “great OZ” and discovered a very small man falsely creating a very large persona.  “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!” he proclaimed to them as they stared in disbelief.  My unworthiness and imperfections were so obvious to me, yet others did not seem to notice.

            Over the years I came to realize that it was through my imperfections and unworthiness that God worked the most effectively.  I eventually came to LOVE the opportunity to share with others how impossible it was that I was doing what I was doing with any amount of success.  It was God’s grace to me that He blessed my efforts, enabled me to understand and communicate to my students.  How often have you looked back at events in your own life and realized you had done something beyond your own ability?  Isn’t it when we are the least able, most weak or in our greatest struggles that we truly rely on God?  All of us, as we move through this journey of life in the flesh, are like the rather small man in OZ.   As we navigate through trials and triumphs with the grace  of our God we can all proclaim, “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain…instead pay attention to our God who enables us to do all things through Him.”    I Peter 1:7-11 reminds us this “…do so with the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified…” I Love how Jude describes our God in verse 24, “…Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy…”.    The God who can take away our sin so we can stand blameless before His glory in heaven, will enable us to do all He has put before us!

Adjusting my position for the perfect shot, I exhibited my talent for sloth like movements.  The slight rotation of my torso, to achieve a better angle , is imperceptible…my target is unaware of my presence.  My trusted four legged companion sits reverently at my side as I steady my hand…things come into focus….the light, the colors, the trees and most of all…the bird.  My aim is sure, I take the shot…applying quick pressure to the button on the top of my camera.  The “capture” of my long awaited prey is evidenced in an image frozen for all of time on my computer screen.

          Okay,okay…so I’m exaggerating the scenario just a tad.  But it did feel a lot like that to me.  I had just refilled my bird feeder the other day.  I was anticipating an increase in avian visitors with visions of springtime dancing in my head.  March decided to enter our area like a lion.  We received a plopping of about 6 inches of snow.  As I passed by our window I saw several birds enjoying a meal from the newly restocked feeder.  I’d run to get my camera following several such sightings only to find them gone when I got back .  Then it happened…one of the female cardinals we believe resides in a nearby tree was gracefully perched on the feeder’s seed tray.  In my eagerness to get the shot, I bumped the glass and she flew away.   Now it was on!  The challenge to out wit and out wait the cardinals consumed me.  Ignoring the long list of better things to do with my time on a snowy day, I took my post at the window.  I propped my hand up on the window’s ledge and aimed my tiny camera at the desolate bird feeder.  I’m sure it was less than an hour, but it felt like I stood there for days.  Even Hughie, my Yorkie who follows me everywhere around the house in hope of getting in my lap when I sit down, gave up and sat on my foot as I stood like a statue.  Waiting, waiting…certain it would produce the photo I desired.  I was bored.  I knew there were more productive things to do, but I waited.  Then he came.  A bright red cardinal.  He allowed me only two photos before he swooped out of my camera’s range.  It was worth the wait.  Few things say good-bye winter, hello spring like the bright contrast of white snow and the brilliant red cardinal.  Winter will end.  The snow will melt.  The cardinal’s bright feathers will attract a mate and the newness of spring will begin.

          The perfect photo, a new season in life, both require waiting.  My life reflects my tendency to avoid waiting.  My microwave is more worn and used than my oven.  I replace my coffee maker with a new model each time a manufacturer claims to produce a faster cup of coffee.  My dishwasher is set on speed dry.  Even my nail polish is “quick dry”.   But I know, just as I stood at that window, that God often asks us to wait.  Trusting God to fulfill His promises, looking for what he intends for our future and knowing He is sovereign is a discipline to be practiced.  “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His Word I put my hope.  My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning.” Psalm 130:5-6

          The heavy pan falls from my grasp like a wiggling fish.  It clanks and clatters past the dish filled racks of the dishwasher before landing with a ringing thump on the kitchen floor.  From the living room I can hear a familiar refrain…”Teri, What are you doing?!”  Yep, that’s my husband.  For some reason his first response to many of my mishaps is, “What are you doing?”.  A graceless recovery from almost falling, the thud of  my head hitting a low hanging object, or emitting a toe-stubbing-induced yelp would not be followed by my husband asking “oh honey, are you okay?”, but rather….”What are you doing?”.   I used to joke that someday I’d be in harms way, waiting for rescue from my predicament and my knight-in-shinning armor of a husband would ask, “what are you doing?” before attempting to help me.  To be fair, I do tend to get myself into situations of my own doing that maybe should be called into question.  After almost 25 years of marriage, I am sure I have contributed mightily to my husband’s habitual, “What are you doing?” responses.

         This week I have found myself wondering if I should be asking that same question.  Is God asking it of me as well?    I probably don’t ask myself “what am I doing?” because I think I know the answer…I’m doing good things.  I’m serving God.  I’m trying to be kind and helpful.  I serve others.  Surely God is pleased with me…I am doing what He has given me gifts to do.   Well…with my husband’s favorite phrase echoing in my head…I am learning that maybe I do need to ask myself this question.  What am I doing and is it what God has called me to do?   Recently a friend shared Numbers 32:17-23 with me.   Two of the tribes of Israel decided to settle East of the Jordon River.  They were settled and ready to set up house…start enjoying their new home.  Instead of staying in their comfortable new land, they promised to join the others as they ventured West of the Jordon to lay claim to the rest of land God had for them.   They vowed to not return to their homes until every one of the sons of Israel had possessed their inheritance.(32:18).   Hmmmmm. Willing to leave a “comfort zone” until everyone had claimed their “inheritance”….They were willing to take up arms and gear up for battle to take hold of all God had promised.   Again the question…”what am I doing?”, and to each of us…”What are you doing?”   God has an inheritance for all of us!  Ephesians 1:3-14″…In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our sin, according to the riches of His grace…having believed, you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise…given as a pledge of our inheritance, with a view to the redemption of God’s own possession…”  What am I doing to help others claim this promised inheritance of redemption?

        Duke is our wonderful, big black lab.  He is about 11 yrs old and is nearly 90 pounds.  Sometimes though, he can be a frustrating example of stubbornness mixed with stupidity.  You see, Duke’s a “stick getter”, he is a Labrador “retriever” after all.  When he was a puppy this cute aversion to “stick getting” sometimes facilitated negative relationships with our neighbors.  There was the time he brought home a land scape timber.  Our laughter at the sight of a our dog dragging a 2 foot log home was short lived when we noticed the 2 foot gap in the border of the neighbor’s freshly laid flower bed.  Unfortunately this same neighbor had one beautiful rose plant in their front yard.  Not a bush, just one small start of a vine near the base of their lamp post.  Lovingly planted in honor of their new daughter Rose and tended to daily, this plant’s first and only bloom was a joy to watch grow.  The sweet tight bud eventually opened and was a single beauty in their green lawn for many days…that is until Duke brought home a stick.  It wasn’t entirely his fault…the rose had opened as far as it could and the petals were destined to fall off soon, they were barely attached…honestly, the stick barely touched the rose.  The impact was unavoidable.  The petal-less stem, a bright bundle of petals at  its base and Duke less than innocently wagging his tail…this was the start of the stick syndrome.  Duke enjoyed fetching sticks and such as a youngster.   Over the years Duke’s stick getting has taken on a bit of a pattern.    In the morning when he is let out he is compelled to have a stick in his mouth.  (Some folks keep reading material int heir bathrooms, for Duke it seems he must have a stick.)  Once his mission is accomplished he deposits this stick at the front door.   Now that we live near the woods Duke’s stick getting has presented new challenges.  Every windy day creates an overwhelming choice of sticks for Duke.  Sometimes he struggles with which stick to pick up.  His indecision will often lead to him carrying several sticks home.  When the ground is covered with leaves or snow he sometimes can’t find a stick…his futile search prolongs our morning routine as we stand outside in the cold waiting for him to get done so we can have our coffee.  Many times he finds sticks too long which drag across our cars as he passes them in the driveway. 

        These days we try to keep a pre-chosen stick at the front door for him.  This usually reduces the time he requires to be outside.  Each day he picks up the same stick  for his efforts and returns it to its place at the base of the steps when done.  Today was not to be so carefully orchestrated.  The pre-chosen stick was not in it’s place.  In the dark hours of the morning Duke wandered out to locate a replacement and accomplish his task.  I stood outside and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  I could barely make out the outline of our big black dog in the woods, but I could tell he had indeed found a new stick.  I let myself be fooled into thinking I would soon be letting him, and myself, back into the warm house.  Nope, not Duke, not yet.  I began to call and walk toward him.  By now the sun was starting to glow a bit and I cold see through the trees the cause of his delayed return…a stick.  He dropped what he had found at first because before him was a stick which can best be described as a small tree.  I watched as he struggled to pick up this fallen branch.  Approximately 7ft long with numerous, leaf filled branches extending from it, it was tangled in the underbrush.  Duke tugged and pulled till it was free, but as he walked it soon caught on every bush and tree he attempted to pass.  We live near the woods. there were many other stick options, but he would not be dissuaded.  I called him, offered treats and even scolded and threatened him…nope, today he would bring this mighty tree to the door.  I finally had to go into the woods in my slippers and PJs to assist this stubborn dog of ours.  I knew he would hurt himself trying to bring it home.  I knew he could have chosen a better stick.  I knew if he would just listen to me we could both be inside the warm house and enjoying breakfast.  Duke only knew of his stick, his new big wonderful find.  He was not letting go.  I wonder how long he would have faught with the stick if I had not interviend?  I finally had to break his chosen stick  into a more manageble size.  Once freed from the weight of his own choice he wagged his tail and headed for house.  

           As I write this Duke is sleeping at the door, his morning stick getting adventure/crisis is far from his mind I’m sure, but not from mine.  I was thinking about big sticks in my life.  Like Duke, sometimes I take hold of things that may not be the best for me.   Do I stubbornly hang on to things God is telling me to let go?  Do I think I have something good, when God knows I could have better.  Does God sometimes come into my life and break my sticks to free me from things I don’t even know are holding me back?  I see Duke’s example and I do not want to live my life the most difficult way.  I don’t want God to have to intervene just to get me to follow His will for me.  But I am thankful for a God who gives me grace abundantly.  I have a God who will help me carry my sticks in life.   He forgives me when I choose the wrong sticks and  He will whittle my sticks when needed so I can get home.   Once more I find comfort and strength in IPeter 5:7-11…casting all my worry on Him, because He cares for me…