mental-health

Hey June

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Admit it. You didn’t just read those words. You sang them. I know I did (at least in my head). But can anyone pinch me because when did June get here and where did April and May go?

In less than three weeks, we’ll hit the day with the most daylight in it (which also happens to be the official first day of summer). After that, the countdown to Christmas is on. Well, at least for me it is. Most of you have other anniversaries and holidays on your radar, but since I am afflicted with Obsessive Christmas Disorder, then that’s where I’m focusing.

I keep thinking a lot about what my boss at my old job used to say: any day without a toe tag is a good day. I like it, but I think it’s not necessarily all good. For those who belong to Jesus, to live is Christ and to die is gain. It’s a win-win. So while not having a toe tag is a good day, maybe the day you and I get our toe tags might be sad for some, but it will be our best day ever.

Also, I want to apologize to any olden people for making fun of you when I was a kid when you said that time flies. I get it now. It does. The older I get, the faster it goes. At the same time, the older I get, the more I realize the less I need to be content. You know the old saying that you can’t take your toys and possessions with you when you die. There are no hearses pulling U-Hauls that I’ve seen lately.

Hello, June! Try not to be too hot and humid right away. I like to dip my foot in the shallow end of summer before I jump in. Send more breezes because it helps me sweat less and everyone around me in the vicinity of my armpits appreciates that. Oh, and less bugs this year would be great. Thanks!

Saturday Randomness

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It’s been a little while since I did a random post of random thoughts and such. I couldn’t think of anything better, so here we are with a little stream of consciousness.

I’m dog sitting currently for my sister and her family. Well, technically I’m dog sitting, rabbit sitting, fish sitting, and chinchilla sitting. So basically I’m pet sitting. But I like all the critters, so it’s all good.

I had to get a tire patched earlier today. I don’t know why, but I seem to be really good lately at picking up nails in my tires. It’s probably my new spiritual gift. I don’t even have to try. They just automatically gravitate toward my vehicle and latch on.

Also, I’m looking for some speakers to go with my sorta new turntable. The old one is probably DOA, so I’m trying to make the not quite so new one work. If you or someone you know has any idea of a good place to find some for a relatively good price, I’m all eyes and ears.

Also, I’m thankful. The older I get, the more thankful I am. I realize that most of those things I used to take for granted are really the best things in life. Faith, family, friends, food (kidding but not kidding), and so many other things. I’ve learned to quit worrying about what’s missing and start appreciating all that I already have, which is more than enough.

So far, I think I’ve nailed the random part. This one is all over the place, but hopefully in a good way. Plus, I am super tired and in need of a good night’s rest, so hopefully tomorrow will be back to your normally scheduled blog posts and maybe slightly less random.

Thank you for reading. You rock.

Happy Birth-Month to Me!

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I figured when you get to a certain age, you need to celebrate being alive. Somehow, I don’t think that one day is enough to appreciate the miracle of life, so I decided to take the whole month of February. I know, it’s a short month, even on leap years. But life is hard enough without allowing yourself some room for frivolity and fun.

My actual birthday is on February 28, as I was ever so close to being a leap year baby. If I’d been born only 11 hours later, I’d be celebrating on February 29 and only be 1/4 of my current age. I wish.

But age is nothing to be ashamed of, especially when you know far too many people who didn’t get to grow old. I see my life more and more as a gift, even when I’m starting to get those senior discounts without having to show any actual ID. That hurts a bit, I confess.

But God has been good to me for 53 years. I have way more blessings than I can count (and way more than I deserve if I’m being honest). I know that I’m a sinner saved by grace, and everything else that I get from God is the proverbial icing on the cake.

By the way, I wear size 8 1/2 Lucchese boots and I like my cabins size medium. JK. I figured out a long time ago that people matter more than stuff and memories last way longer than any possessions. Besides, I won’t be taking any of my stuff with me when I shuffle off this mortal coil. I mean have you ever seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul? Think about it.

Anyway, I’d like to make it to 100, but I’m thankful for whatever I get. If Jesus comes back before then, I’m definitely not going to complain. That will be the best day ever.

The Houses that Built Me

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A couple of years ago, my family got the opportunity to revisit some of the old houses where I lived, as well as my grandparents’ houses. It was a fun trip down memory lane, but I realized one thing.

I didn’t get the wave of nostalgia that I was expecting. Some of the houses had changed quite a bit, but some looked the same. The difference was that the people I loved weren’t there anymore. Some have moved away, some have gone to heaven.

It wasn’t the brick and mortar that I truly loved. It was the people inside. It was the memories we made within the walls of each of the houses. Today, if I were given the chance to wander through these houses, I doubt I’d recognize very much. I’m sure a lot has changed in the 30+ years since I was last there.

Sometimes, I think I want to step into the past, if only for a moment. I just want to be a fly on the wall and revisit some old memories. I just want to see the faces and hear their stories. The older I get, the more trouble I have remembering what they looked like or what their voices sounded like.

But I’m thankful. I’m grateful for everything I learned, every experience I had in these places, both good and bad. I think who I am now was shaped by the people who lived there. I carry a little bit of each and every one of them with me.

One of the rewards of heaven will be seeing all the old faces again. Maybe they’ll all be young again. They will have all their memories back. They won’t be fragile or in pain. It will be just like old times — even better, since Jesus will be there.

I hope that the people living in those homes are making new memories. Maybe one day a long time from now, someone will drive up and instantly be able to conjure up a million scenes from the past that they can think about and smile.

It’s All About Perspective

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You know what it’s like to be around people who constantly focus on everything negative. In any given situation, you can always count on these people to find something wrong or where it’s good now but it might rain or storm tomorrow. At times, we’ve probably all been that person depending on how much sleep we got last night or the enchiladas we had for lunch that aren’t agreeing with us.

But being around people who are constantly negative is draining. You find yourself being pulled into a kind of Pit of Despair when the person you’re talking to is complaining nonstop and has next to nothing positive to say about anything.

As I’ve mentioned numerous times, I think the key is perspective. And what helps your perspective more than anything is cultivating an attitude of gratitude. Being thankful can change the way you see your world.

I get that some people seem to have more than their fair share of bad luck or rotten circumstances. Some people never seem to get any breaks. For some, I really think that a negative outlook leads to a negative outcome in a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy kind of way. Other people can be going through a season of suffering and still keep a smile on their faces.

The ones who are best at staying positive are the ones who know that this life isn’t all there is. They have their hopes set not on a better tomorrow but in the One who holds all our tomorrows in the palm of His hand. They’re looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth where everything bad will be no more and all the best parts of this life will have only been like an appetizer before the real feast.

The moral of the story is what I’ve probably said a thousand times but still can’t say it enough into my own brain — giving thanks makes it possible to see the good in your day and in your life and to see God at work around you. That’s the key.

All I Needed to Say

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I know several people who are dealing with grief and the loss of a loved one. It’s never easy, especially with the recent end of the Christmas season that makes loss even more difficult to bear. I found a post with the lyrics from a Michael W. Smith song from his second album. Let these words sink in and express your own grief and loss:

“Sad goodbye
Never quite got said
Now the time is gone
We’re moving on
Even though it hurts so bad

If I could
I’d turn back the days
And I’d love again
To be your friend
In a hundred different ways
But we can’t turn back the time
The days

So if I never said, all I needed to say
I’ll say it now
You know I loved you once
I love you stronger today
Please love, find me a way
Words, I still need to say
But I don’t know how

Can’t stand still
Still I can’t move on
Lord, I need your strength
Need you and me
‘Cause a part of me is gone

In time, I will know
What I’ve yet to see
That through all the pain
You hurt the same
And you’re standing here with me
More than anything it’s you
I need

So if I never said, all I needed to say
I’ll say it now
You know I loved you once
I love you stronger today
Please love find me a way
Words, I still need to say
Please show me how

Words, I still need to say

So if I never said, all I needed to say
I’ll say it now
You know I loved you once
I love you stronger today
Please love find me a way
But I don’t know how
Please love find me a way
Please show me how” (Amy Grant / Michael W. Smith).

Caring for the Elderly

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“To care for the elderly means then that we allow the elderly to make us poor by inviting us to give up the illusion that we created our own life and that nothing or nobody can take it away from us. This poverty, which is an inner detachment, can make us free to receive the old stranger into our lives and make that person into a most intimate friend.

When care has made us poor by detaching us from the illusion of immortality, we can really become present to the elderly. We can then listen to what they say without worrying about how we can answer. We can pay attention to what they have to offer without being concerned about what we can give. We can see what they are in themselves without wondering what we can be for them. When we have emptied ourselves of false occupations and preoccupations, we can offer free space to old strangers, where not only bread and wine but also the story of life can be shared” (Henri Nouwen).

I think I remember reading about different cultures in the past where two or three generations of the same family lived under one roof, and when one got older, the family would take care of that person. I understand that times have changed. I also understand that we live in a very modern Western society where we have facilities for caring for those who can no longer care for themselves.

This is not bashing those institutions or those who place their aging loved ones in such places. This is about how there is a kind of joy that comes from taking care of the elderly. They have so much wisdom from having lived so long. They have stories and pictures and memories to share.

I’d give anything right now to have at least one of my grandparents alive again to be able to listen to them talk for as long as they wanted, to look at old photo albums, listen to old music. I’d even take hearing the same stories told again and again.

This society doesn’t value age very much. We tend to glamorize youth and desperately seek ways to prolong looking and acting young rather than to teach about how blessed it is to grow old gracefully and embrace each stage of your life.

I’m 52, and as much as I want to think I’m still in my 20s, my body reminds me that I’m not. My brain may think I can stay up until 2 am and be okay the next morning, but the rest of me is like, “Are you kidding me right now?”

My church advocates for mentoring between young adults and older adults. I can think of no better way to gain wisdom than from someone who has a lifetime of learning by trial and error and from knowledge and understanding passed down through generations. Hopefully, I can be of value to the next generations as the older generations have been to me.

The best way to learn to love and follow Jesus is to spend time with those who have loved and followed Jesus for a lifetime. My pastor talks about how his love of the Bible and prayer came from watching his own father spend time in the Word preparing for and praying over Sunday School lessons.

That’s not a bad idea.

Telling Stories

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“Child,’ said the Lion, ‘I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own” (C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy).

I’m beginning to understand that we all have different stories. We also have different seasons and struggles. I am in the middle of a career transition. I overheard where someone else has a parent dealing with a cancer diagnosis. Yet someone else I know has struggled within the past year with mental health issues.

Each story is different. Each struggle is unique. It’s no good for me to compare my story with someone else’s and to either think that mine doesn’t matter because it’s not a potentially terminal diagnosis or that I have it way worse because someone else might have an ingrown toenail.

The Bible doesn’t say God never gives us more than we can handle. Often, it’s way beyond our capacity to bear so that we are forced to lean in on the Lord for daily strength. He does give us grace equal to the struggle. He does promise to be with us in each season.

In each story, the testimony is that God is able. I am in as much need of God’s continual grace and strength as anyone else alive right now on this planet. My need is no more or less than theirs. And my God is equally up to the task.

That’s the beauty of intercessory prayer. I enter into your story and you enter into mine. We share each others burdens and magnify the name of Jesus equally. Sometimes, we can speak words when the other has none or believe for the other when they can’t find the faith at the moment.

The best part is that God is always the hero of our stories and we can rest assured that in every case we know that God works all things together for good and for a happy ending.

More for Those With Broken Hearts

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I have something I’ve learned about having my heart broken a few times that I want to pass along to you. First of all, I want to say that okay to grieve when your love or interest in someone goes unrequited. It’s okay to hurt. I think it requires as much of a grieving process as losing a loved one, because you’re seeing the death of a dream that was very dear to your heart.

I think it’s okay to be brutally open and honest with God about the pain. He can take it. Besides, he already knows those feelings that you pretend aren’t there when you tell yourself that you’re fine.

That said, I think one good thing out of having your heart broken is that it is never again the same shape as it was, pre-break. It’s larger. And if you choose the path of healing versus the path of grudges and bitterness, good things can come out of the pain, such as these:

You have more room to love others and you have an increased sensitivity to those in pain around you who need your love.

You give more grace toward those who act out of their own hurt toward you because you remember when you did the same out of the great pain you were once in.

You have more compassion and tenderness in general because you know what it’s like to need it and find it so you want others to experience the same joy you did.

Finally, you become a little more like Jesus because you’ve shared in his sufferings. Jesus above all knows the pain of a broken heart, both physically and metaphorically. He’s the one who wept over Jerusalem because they wouldn’t come to him and find life and freedom. His heart was just as broken that day as when the spear pierced his side into his heart.

So remember that there is nothing broken that God can’t take and make beautiful. No, not just beautiful like it was before. It won’t ever be the same. It will be much, much better.