In the event of an emergency...
Is it just me, or does it seem like there is one catastrophe after another on the news?
YIKES!!
We've had Katrina, the levees breaking, the JetBlue landing gear incident, earthquakes in SoCal and now Rita on its way. That doesn't even tap into the state and local news in everyone's area that is filled with ghastly horror both man-made and nature-made.
We sat down tonight and wrote out a list of supplies to go get at the store tomorrow so that we are prepared for the storms that are headed our way this weekend as Rita moves inland. We're not in danger of our life or limb -- our supplies will be more along the lines of creature comforts and sustenance until the power is restored should it be knocked out.
Ironically, I was talking to a newscaster in LA the other day during the course of my day, and he asked if we were evacuating. I laughed, saying that the only reason we'd evacuate here in DFW is if the air conditioner went out in our office building. Little did I know that we may experience a Cat 1 this weekend!
Regardless, because I have had a unique insight into how deeply affected even this area has been as a result of Katrina three weeks ago, I can't begin to fathom what kind of impact this storm may have that may actually arrive here! Katrina has affected media, pastors, energy companies, communications, civic and school...that's the short list. And that is just what was affected by being 'responders.' Now, in addition to the evacuees we are still hosting from Katrina, we are now being joined by the evacuees from the Southern part of our state, continuing to respond to the needs of those in Louisiana, and now bracing to take care of possible damage in our own backyards. I can't imagine how deeply that will further impact our community.
Not a complaint, not a whine. Just an observation that I don't think that we often have the opportunity to see the depth of effort that goes into preparing for and responding to something like this.
Now, back to my list. In putting it together, my husband and I realized how many areas of our household could be affected by damaged water lines or downed power lines. It made me realize how much 'automation' we take for granted. I realized how deeply ingrained modern conveniences are in our culture -- they are in our DNA! Our grocery list was struck to some pretty simple basics when we realized how much we rely on refrigeration and the microwave...so we switched modes to think "camping...what would we take camping."
I have no idea where I'm going with this. But rest assured, we are not freaked out. We're not terrified. We're not in a panic.
We lived in LA when the Northridge earthquake hit in 1994. Thank goodness we were prepared. Of course, there were days we felt foolish carrying walking shoes in the trunk, and bottled water. And of course all my friends from here thought I was crazy because of how I organized my dishes in the cabinets -- with all platewear on the wider, bottom shelves and plastic & pans on top. (But I'll tell you that I didn't lose one dish during that earthquake -- all my tupperware was scattered on the floor...but not a dish broken.)
Alright, that's the physical stuff. It's easy to make a 'to-do' list or pull one from the internet and check it off.
Now I need to think about my mental preparedness...
Am I ready for an earthquake?
Am I ready to be on a plane with faulty landing gear?
Am I ready?
I'm A Platinum Blonde
Ok -- I did something that probably qualifies as the craziest thing I have ever done.
I signed up for the American Airlines platinum challenge on June 15th -- the challenge being that if you can accrue 10K points in 90 days, they bump you to Platinum.
So with all this traveling I've been doing, it shouldn't have been a problem -- except I came up 85 points short! 85 points! And the deadline is tomorrow to get over that 10K mark.
Well, what did I do? Glad you asked.
I booked an AASuperSaver ticket to Atlanta and back. Got on an airplane at 1pm - flew to Atlanta. Got off the plane and saw that my return flight was leaving from the exact same gate -- heck, it was the same plane and crew! So I exited the plane and walked to the gate counter, got my boarding pass, took a trip to the loo, and got back on the plane and came home. Home by dinner, in fact.
It turned out to be a good thing actually. I took my laptop and went through emails and documents and got a lot of administrativia taken care of that just doesn't happen when I am at my desk constantly being interrupted.
Of course, my husband thinks it is hysterical. My friends figure it is something that only I would do. And my co-workers are excited for me because they don't have to hear me checking on my platinum status anymore after each trip!
I considered finding a platinum blonde wig to wear to work tomorrow to symbolize my new status. But alas, I'm suffering from a bit of jet lag and will just have to go in with my natural dirty dishwater blonde hair. :)
For anyone who stops in -- I would love to hear of something crazy and spontaneous you have done.
Faith-Based –vs- Faith-Placed
I took my daughter to Six Flags last night for the very first time. I remember being about her age (8, turning 15) and not imagining that anything bad could ever happen at a place filled with so much fun and laughter.
But as a parent last night, I found myself checking the structures as though I were a certified civil engineer, and assessing the maturity and abilities of the teenage ride operators as my little girl was strapped into pieces of metal and fabric and plastic that would soon rip her upward 250 feet into the air at 50 mph. And yet, all of us parents (the ones on the ground who didn’t accompany our children) did just that. We placed our faith in the talents of the designers of those rides, the builders of those rides, and the operators of those rides.
Well, of course, who wouldn’t trust the famed and noted designer…hmmm, WHO exactly DID design that ride? Well, no matter, the company who built the ride is of elite stature and no one would dare question the precision of...oh my, I have NO CLUE who actually constructed this monstrous piece of steel. That's okay, though, these ride operators are trained professionals who do this as a personal calling in line with their God-given talents...AFTER THEY GET OUT OF THEIR HIGH SCHOOL GYM CLASS!
Oh my goodness. It dawned on me that I have fewer reservations about strapping my daughter into an amusement ride and demonstrate more certain faith in people whom I can't even name and know nothing about than I do in trusting her with the Designer of an entire universe, Builder of mountains and trees and all living creatures, and Operator of hearts and souls.
Regardless of what you may believe about the existence or the nature of God, we at least have a 'biography' of Him in the Bible. If I have questions about strapping my daughter into His care, and I have a concern about His credentials, I can at least turn to any one of the books of the Bible and find an answer as to His experience and His skillset.
But I am guessing that if I were to ask the Ride Operator at Six Flag for references and a dossier that they would tell me to take a hike -- ride or go away. How dare I question their professionalism or ethics or skill set, even though I am about to put my precious baby girl in their care. And yet, God reveals Himself so fully to us so that should we have any questions at all about His intents or abilities or nature or desires, it is there for us to discover with the turn of a page. And yet, we continue to argue and question and doubt and use our 'lack of surety' to deny Him control of the spiritual well-being of our lives. But we have no qualms about trusting a string of strangers at an amusement park with our physical well-being.
Well, all this to say that I thought of the phrase 'faith-based' as it applies to programs in society. "Faith-based" implies that the faith is rooted, based, stems from something that is set, steady and immutable. But I honestly think that we tend to be 'faith-placed' in many instances -- we place our faith in others -- be it individuals, agencies, programs or institutions -- that have in no way personally demonstrated that they are worthy of our faith.
So, I am really looking inward on this one. If someone looked at my life, would they consider me to be a 'faith-based' person? Or would they see that I tend to act more like a 'faith-placed' person?
September 11th - Remembered
We are paying special respects to September 11th during our worship service at church today. Many of us were asked to just write our thoughts about that day, and 4 will be read intertwined within a beautiful song about maintaining hope. I have asked the other writers if I may share their recollections here (I will add them as I get their emailed copies, so this will be updated)...I hope that you find something to 'hold on' to in one or more of them:
Words That Never FailIn remembering 9/11, our language is no match for our sorrow. It is limited; finite; simply not up to the task of giving voice to our grief.
On that Tuesday in 2001 and in the weeks following, many of us found ourselves groping for words, attempting to make sense of what is senseless.
My husband Scott phoned from work that morning, advising me to turn on the television. It was a difficult call for him—as a young theater student, I lived in Manhattan and have an abiding affinity with New York and New Yorkers.
“A plane accidentally hit the Trade Center!?” I asked, unable to grasp what he was telling me. Scott was silent for some time; words failed him. At last, he said simply, “I’m coming home.”
Later in the day, I was momentarily puzzled by the decorated cake on our kitchen table, the gaily wrapped presents—I’d forgotten that my daughter Caroline was marking her 8th birthday that day. After the family celebrated, just before bed, we told her what had happened. She listened sadly, and finally looked up with a serious little face—Was anyone hurt? she asked. And I crumpled; began to cry; couldn’t answer—there were no words to soften the horror.
The following Christmas, my family attended a wedding in Manhattan. Even blocks from Ground Zero, even with the drone of heavy machinery working to clear the debris, the silence was striking. The site itself—shrouded in dust, heavily populated with the grieving—was as hushed and reverent as the loftiest cathedral. No one could put speech to so great a pain, to so immense a loss.
Todd Beamer might have been speechless, at first—but he knew just where to look. In the last minutes of his life, he recited the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm with a telephone operator. Scores of believers, like Beamer, died that day. And while they may have groped in darkness, I’m confident they did not grope for words. Surely, they offered up to all those around them words of Truth…Light…Life…that resonated in the chaos.
So we also turn to the only words of any value to us. Our own language may prove inadequate, sorely lacking, but the Scripture is never at a loss for words. It is never struck dumb, never rendered speechless. For all eternity, It knows just what to say.
In remembering the thousands who lost their lives at World Trade, at the Pentagon, in Pennsylvania—we let Isaiah 60, Verses 1-3, speak for us, and to us:
“Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the LORD rises upon you.
See, darkness covers the earth
and thick darkness is over the peoples,
but the LORD rises upon you
and his glory appears over you.
Nations will come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.”
—LM, 9/9/2005
Losing a Life
Tuesday, September 11, 2001, began with a trip to the orthodontist. Bright colors, fun pictures, a game room, and TVs everywhere were all geared toward entertainment while you were there. That morning, though, everything was quiet and the TVs in the waiting area alone revealed the horror that was happening before the world’s eyes. I was stunned by the scenes that unfolded before me and at the same time struck by the irony of watching these events unfold in a child’s environment with the sounds of video games in the background.
I pushed through the day, as many of us did, with many questions and few answers. I cried and prayed throughout the day. The outcome was devastating and growing worse with each passing moment. I knew our lives were changing dramatically right before our eyes.
Thankfully, we had no family or friends to worry about in Washington DC, Philadelphia or New York. We didn’t know anyone personally who died that day. We lost no one and nothing on September 11. However, we had no idea what we would lose as a result of that day in the years to come.
At the time we felt blessed and protected that Dennis, my husband, hadn’t been traveling, as he often did, to New York on business. He was in the commercial interiors industry – had been for nearly 15 years. Unfortunately, like many other similar industries, they began to feel the effects of the aftermath of 9/11. By the following year, business was drastically reduced. The doors to the Dallas office Dennis worked from were closed – his position eliminated.
Days turned to weeks; weeks to months. Job opportunities vanished, one after the other. Money began to run low. Our health insurance benefits ran out. We were down to one car. It was all we could do to cling to God, but cling we did… That’s when the next leg of our journey began – a journey toward hope :0)
We realized after some time that there were patterns developing. First, we prayed for an answer from God regarding a job – finally understanding that God WAS answering… He said “No” and “Wait.” A second pattern was provision. Every time we thought we were monetarily exhausted, God provided. A bill never went unpaid. Every need was met. Instead of healthcare insurance coverage – God gave us good health! A third pattern – and this was the big one – was ministry. Little by little, God began to bring people in our lives to minister to. People with struggles we couldn’t relate to and problems much deeper than our own. People who needed someone to be the hands and feet of Christ to them, to serve them, to know what Jesus looked like with skin on.
It’s been almost three years now. Dennis consults on a part-time basis. Job opportunities continue to come… and vanish. We’ve sold our house. We’ve cut our budget; sacrificed and then some more. Dennis still doesn’t have full-time employment, but most days he has a full-time job – tending to the people God brings along for him to walk with; to mentor. We realize now that God needed to weed out the former life to open our eyes to the life around us. While we still pray for and seek full-time employment, mostly I pray for God to open our eyes to each ministry opportunity every day.
We didn’t lose anyone on 9/11. We lost a life, though. Some days it can still be hard – the aftermath continues. But we realize that in losing the life we built, God gave us a life that He is building. One focused on His Kingdom’s work. A life focused on hope and His purpose for us.
S.R. 9/11/05
Remembering Sept 11th
The drive to work that day is imprinted in my brain visually...as I turned south onto the tollway from 635, I could see people in their cars so clearly as they were hearing the news or talking about it with loved ones. I could see the expressions on their faces as though I were in the car with them, and the shock and horror and fear were evident. I knew what they were hearing and talking about while they reached quickly for the radio and dialed numbers frantically, and I remember wondering why I had never paid that much attention to fellow drivers before.
I walked into our office, and everyone was gathered in the kitchen watching the coverage on tv. As we all stood there, just numb, we did an inventory of our staff who were traveling, clients who were in NY, friends who could possibly be affected... I thought of one of the moms in our play group who worked at American Airlines, so I went immediately to my desk and called her.
I was glad that I did...and so was she. This single mom needed someone to pick up her children from preschool that afternoon because she was clearly going to be working late. Keeping the kids that evening actually turned into keeping them for a few days, as my friend had the unenviable task of notifying the families of the crews who had been serving on those flights.
I remember watching the footage of the buildings falling and thinking of the children who perished. I just broke down and told God that I couldn't bear the burden of trying to keep my children safe anymore...that I couldn't handle the responsibility and that I had to commit them totally to Him because it was clear that no matter how hard we try, or how many fences we build, or how many rules we put into place...our plans to keep our children safe are not fail-proof. It was in that moment that I fully realized my children were not my own...I was merely a steward of them here on earth. I am still not the parent I would like to be, but that changed me in a fundamental way...it changed forever the way that I look at my kids.
Earlier this summer, we visited New York. When we walked up to Ground Zero, I was as though someone had kicked me in the stomach, and all those feelings from 4 years ago came rushing back and stung like a scab ripped from a crusty knee. The wind left my lungs and I struggled to fill them back up as I instantly imagined the sounds...and the smoke...and the sights of that incredibly sorrowful Tuesday. And the others who were there, looking upon the scar on the ground, standing side by side reading the memorial must have shared the same reaction because we all stood there in reverent silence, biting our lips...wiping away silent tears...and slowly shaking our heads in disbelief.
How has it changed me? I don't know how -- I just know that it has. Sept 11th was one of those moments in life that so dramatically shakes up the playing board that you simply must start anew instead of trying to start back where you were before. While we play out our games here on earth, as serious as they may be, there is assurance in knowing that in the end, Good will win out. We know how the story ends.
-Whit
Good, Better, Best
I had the most interesting discussion with my daughter today about superlatives.
Those who know me, know that I live in the superlative world:
Everything is the 'best' or the 'worst' or the 'most.'
And I'd say that most acquaintances know how to measure what I really mean within the context of what I am saying. I'm quite animated and demonstrative and of course, there is no simple answer -- everything has a story involved with it, complete with the rolling of the eyes, the mimicking or mocking, caustic commentary and dozens of superlatives scattered throughout.
But back to the discussion with my daughter, I can't even remember why we got on the subject, but I'm thinking it will be one of those life lessons that someday she'll look back on and say "My mommy once told me..."
Somehow we got to a place in the conversation where I told her that
'the fun thing isn't always the right thing. And the best thing isn't always the easy thing. And the good thing may someday keep her from getting the best thing."Well, of course, those are certainly lofty ideals even for us more seasoned folks, so I gave her a very real and recent example from my own life.
I explained that someone had offered me something that I dearly wanted this past week. With the caveat, however, that this friend really felt like she shouldn't add anything more to my overloaded plate of obligations. But evenso, she offered it to me asking that I pray about it and let her know my decision.
With every ounce of my being, I wanted to say "
Yes! I want to do that!" but there was a little voice in my head saying, "
No -- it's a good
thing...but it's not the best
thing."And so, with a heavy heart and big tears, I told my friend that while I would like to say that I would pray about the offer for a few days and come back, I knew that I wouldn't. I would simply wait an appropriate amount of time and come back and say "
Yes! I want to do that!" And I explained that since I knew she had been giving this opportunity much more prayerful consideration than I had these past several weeks, that I would defer to her sense about not needing to add anything to my plate.
At once, I was grieved and sad and felt like someone had snatched away my favorite dolly. And at the same time, I was washed over with the peace of knowing I had done the right thing.
So I told this story to my daughter, who sat in the backseat with eyes wide with amazement. And she asked "
So mommy, if that was the good thing...what was the best thing?""I don't know yet...I don't know."Well, how in the world do you explain that you know in your heart that you have done the
right thing by turning down a
good thing in order to receive the
best thing that you have no idea what it is or when it is coming!
We continued to talk, and I gave an example that made sense to her, and I saw the light go on. She got it. She understood that we can fill our lives with lots of very good and noble things, but we have to work on our ability to discern between simply choosing
good instead of waiting on
best.
If our hands are full of pennies, there is no room left to receive the gold.
This is not the
best post I've ever written, nor the
longest...nor even the
shortestnot the
most insightful...or
least interesting...
not the
strangest...
funniest...probably not even the
deepest.
I doubt it's the
most personal...couldn't be the
most random...
But I do have the
surest feeling that it is the one that will stick with me the
longest.
What's In A Name?
I was sitting in the van today waiting for my daughter to finish up soccer practice, and the phrase settled in on my brain like an elusive jigsaw puzzle piece.
"It has a name."
That pain in my knee. That numbness in my hands and feet. The tremors when I sit still. My legs jumping and lurching when I lay down at night. The fatigue that feels like someone has slipped me a mickey. The inability to even drag my rolling suitcase through the airport, or lift my carry-on up to the overhead compartment on the airplane. The forgetting the names of familiar objects. Of not being able to finish a sentence because I don't even know what I was saying. And the double vision that haunts me late in the day.
All those things have a name now.
And while some of those have been with me for many months, they didn't bother me too much until they got a name.
Multiple Sclerosis.
It just sounds terrible. It doesn't sound even remotely pleasant. And then if you know what the word means, it's even worse -- Multiple (many) Sclerosis (scars) Well, yuck.
And so, sitting there waiting for practice to end, I realized that it's the name moreso than the symptoms that bother me. For the most part, they are a nuisance...an annoyance...a reminder that I am an organism made of billions of cells and chances are good that some of them are going to konk out at some point.
But that name.
"Getting older" -- sounds mature.
"Creaky bones" -- sounds like my grandmother!
"Growing pains" -- ok, I'm a little old for that one.
"Out of shape" -- that can be remedied.
And there are probably a bunch of other cliches that reference the creaking of our joints as we get older. But those are names WE give those aches & pains & sensations...but this one has a name that was given to me.
So, I have to think about what I'm going to call it.
Because I see that there is power in a name.
Will I call it a blessing or a curse?
There is so much power in a name...but it will only have the power that I give it.
And only I can decide what to call that thing that already has a name...only I can determine how I will address it. And I must decide whether I choose to call it blessing? Or do I choose to call it a curse?
After all, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet...
(
A suggestion that a thing is what it is, not what it is called.)
But aren't the monikers that we bestow on people and places and things an indication of their character? So I pose the question (more for myself than for anyone else, although I'd love to hear your thoughts) -- does it really matter what we
think something '
is' if it simply '
is' what it
is?
And now I'm back to my original question...what's in a name?
(For those of you wondering where I have disappeared to -- I have been traveling quite a bit over the past three weeks and simply haven't had the time or inclination to get on the blogs. I guess I needed a rest from it as I marshaled by mental energy toward the tasks at hand. I may be lurking over the next few weeks as I get back into it, but rest assured that I have not gone anywhere. And thank you for your kind notes and concern -- I am good.)
