Be patient and just give it time... (FMF post)

Just.

When I saw the writing prompt for this Five Minute Friday write, this most certainly IS NOT the direction I originally saw myself going.

But it is what I've been thinking about and it does include the word just, so...

Here we go!

I first took the Myers-Briggs personality test almost 30 years ago. It is a took I've come to appreciate, not as it it reveals gospel-truth about who I am and my personality, but rather as in it reveals certain personality traits that help to explain why I act and think as I do in particular circumstances. It helps me understand myself, often helping me to adapt and change my initial first-and-best-option-according-to-me, to better meet the needs of my family, my friends, my colleagues and others I'm seeking to serve.

My initial test results said I was an I/ENTJ. Dead even on the introvert/extrovert scale, intuitive regarding my understanding of the world and people, I made decisions based off of logical analysis and I preferred a plan rather than flying by the seat of my pants. Then I became a mother... of many. For the last 20 years, every time I've taken the test, I turn up an INFJ. Introverted to the extreme (perhaps a reaction or coping mechanism to having worked much of my life in a third world country surrounded by immense needs in every direction and then inside my home, having eight third culture kids in 13 years, and having rather intense side effects to the malaria prophylactic I took while working/living/raising a family in that third world environment), intuitive (where time has consistently demonstrated that my intuitive read of the world around me is usually pretty accurate) decisions based off of feelings - often the feelings of others of which I'm intuitively aware, as in they are screaming at me so loudly it is hard to identify my own feelings, and I'm still someone who prefers a plan, though I've learned to be flexible in adapting that plan.

It is that intuitive part that I've been mulling over lately. 

I do read people well most of the time. I know when someone is hurt, frustrated, angry... and I want to come up with a plan to make it right. 

I try and come up with some sort of constructive action or reparation to resolve the conflict, to heal hurt feelings, to reconcile and restore what has been ruptured.

Sometimes that is the absolutely right thing to do.

Some times, however, I just need to be patient. I just need to wait. I am not really part of the problem, but will rapidly become part of it if I try and force the solution.

I just need to stay out of the way, pray and let the Holy Spirit do His thing...

photo credit: Mara ~earth light~ 

Camel - the ship of the desert 

via photopin (license)

Five Minute Friday ('cept for me, it's on Saturday) ~ Confident

While I was never a person who thought I knew it ALL, when I was a young mother, I was pretty confident I knew an AWFUL LOT.

As folks here in Quebec commonly say, "Ouff!"

Because now, as far as what I KNOW, I'm not nearly so

• self-assured...
• sure...
• presumptuously puffed up...
• arrogant.

At least I don't think so. I'm not in my head.

I hope I'm not (at least not most of the time) in the attitude I present to others. 

(Feel free to call me out on that one if you this attitude screaming out in my life.)

Mommy-ing, teaching littles at home and at school, have shown me so many things

• More often than not, I make judgments - and I'm confident of the righteousness of said judgments - without a clear or complete understanding.
• I have a hard time seeing how my words, my actions or what seems so clearly obvious and true to me, can be perceived totally differently (and often rightly) by somebody else.
• The more I think I know, clearly the more I need to humble myself to learn more.

I'm presently living two "situations" right now where I'm grudgingly thankful for the "humble-pie" on which I'm "dining.

One is much easier than the other (so I'll start with that one first).

In an effort to model teachability and encourage a more positive classroom climate, this past week one of my colleagues and I had "circle time" with her class. I led the time and our goal was to discuss the fact that we all have strengths and weaknesses and part of loving others means supporting and noticing others around us when they use their talents for the good of others... and lovingly confronting them when they refuse to work on their weaknesses and thus hurt others.

So, using myself as the model, I asked this group of students (early elementary aged) what they saw as my strengths and my weaknesses when I was with them, working with them, at school.

According to a group of six and seven year-old kids, they appreciate and know that I love them because I'm willing to draw near and help them with hard things, whether their problem is not getting some academic concept, not getting along (or worse) with a friend, not listening to their teachers or other authorities as they should, or not treating others like they want to be treated.

Can I pat myself on the back for that one? 

Nope. Not yet. ...keep reading -

Then, they said I have two things on which I need to work:

1. Improving my ability to speak French 

No surprise there... and we had a mini-lesson right then and there on how I should be pronouncing "Dieu" - which for this old, English-speaking tongue - well, "Ugh!" My attempts provoked much laughter and I felt like an idiot. I think I finally got it write twice. They all clapped! I smiled while silently nursing my pride.**

2. I need to give more hugs. 

In other words, even though my attitude and my attention communicates clearly to them that I do love them, they need even more - especially when I'm working with them in a difficult moments. In all sincerity, my very young friends were able to tell me today that my biggest strength, the thing they appreciated most about me as a teacher - they appreciated not because I was consistently doing it well enough that they actually "felt" loved. Rather, because of God's grace and his work in their little hearts, they understood and accepted my intention even when my words and actions didn't clearly communicate the message. 

Wow!

Ouch.

Outta the mouths of babes.

The second situation is much more difficult for me to swallow.

Because I've unintentionally offended and hurt someone. In my confidence that I was acting rightly, I didn't consider that what I was doing could even be misconstrued. My lack of awareness of the other ways that those actions could be received, perceived and interpreted has been rather glaring. In this situation intentions just don't matter, and there is no way to undo damage done.

Next week, I will have the opportunity to apologize - in French, mind you (Remember, communicating in that language is not one of my strengths. Neither is humbling myself and publicly admitting error.)

And I get to do all of this in the presence of my boss. By God's grace (and me decreasing so that His presence in me increases), maybe forgiveness and a measure of reconciliation and healing will result. Maybe even restoration.

But I can't worry about the result at this moment. I can only pray that the Holy Spirit softens and gentles as I pray (and rehearse hundreds of times in my head) about the words I will say and the attitude I need.

As I've reflected and prayed about this, I'm so thankful for the following two truths.

I can be "confident of this, that he who began a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1.6)

And

"...whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in a Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him ...Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

**Five minute time limit reached

photo credit: NevilleNel Perseverance via photopin (license)

just one of those days where I don't like very much what I've signed up for

We signed a lease today.

That means this July, we will make our 32nd move in 25 years of marriage. Thankfully several of those were "smaller affairs" back before we had lots of kids. But it will be our fifth move in the last 10 years - and two of those were international.

I'm a little sad. 

Actually, if I'm going to be "authentic," today I'm a lot sad.

I'm also a lot tired, just thinking of all that now has to happen between now and then.

As followers of Jesus, we learn to hold dreams, hopes as well as the people and things we love close to our hearts, but loosely with open hands, offering all back to God. 

Today, I'm wishing that God will let me stop learning that open-handed heart position.

Almost two years ago, when we moved into the rental house where we are presently living, I fell in love. With all those moves, I've lived in quite a few different places. I'm usually pretty content. I've found things to love and enjoy about every house we've ever had. I don't think I've ever been unhappy with any of our living spaces.

This house was different. For me, it has been a head over heels love affair. It's cute. It has personality. It has been well-lived in, with "scars and stretch-marks." There's a pool surrounded by a deck about to collapse. A fireplace. Enough square footage to really stretch out and breath deep. Space to invite friends and family to visit. An older neighborhood with huge trees, great paths to walk, the golf course (or cross-country ski trails, depending on the time of year) right across the street, a cute little "centre-ville" and the St. Lawrence River just down the hill. I love living here. It doesn't just feel like another in a long list of houses. It has felt like home. The day we signed the lease for this however, I knew we'd be moving again, sometime. I forgot to hold this home loosely. During the past 20 months, without really realizing it, I've clenched tightly my metaphorical hand around the idea of staying here, for several more years.

God has been prying my clutching fingers away, one at a time over the past several weeks... and I'm a little sore from clinging too tightly.

It all started when we began praying about the possibility of moving. The church plant project of which we are a part has a community church as its goal. It is much easier to invite people to a community church activity when you actually live in the neighborhood. We started wondering if God might be asking us to move into that area of town. Tim and I told each other we were going to pray about it. Instead of praying for wisdom regarding such a big decision, however, I spent more time asking God to pry my hands back open because the idea of packing everything up just seemed to suck all the energy right out of me.

Then, my desires became a bit of a mute point. We received  notification that the owner of our current home had decided to sell. We could renew our lease, but that means living in a house with regular visits from prospective buyers, potential inspections and probably work that needs to be done as a result. Eventually, we'd be given notice, and we would have a certain period of time during which we would have to find another place to live so we could vacate the property.

So we started to look in earnest. Every morning, every night - I would scrutinize the housing ads on six or seven different web sites. I'd write and find out if renters really didn't want dogs or if they just didn't want big dogs, if rental prices included utilities or not, what neighborhood the house was actually located in, if the house was even still available and if could we arrange a visit. Then came the visits. Last Monday night, neither agent showed up to show us the house, so we uselessly drove around for two-ish hours. The visits are almost always a bit of a let down. The house never looks quite as big or nice as it does in the publicity photos.

Yesterday, we had it narrowed down to two places: one close to the church plant neighborhood, farther from school and work, a lot smaller, less expensive, an indoor parking spot and access to a community pool as part of the deal; the other possibility was a bit farther from the church plant neighborhood but walking distance from the kids' school, an almost new and lovely home with significantly more space, more bathrooms, almost no yard and a steeper rent. 

We talked and prayed. And we decided. I left the school's staff retreat today a little early so I could drive by the first choice above and sign the lease. 

I wanted to cry. Not because I didn't like the choice - our two choices were pretty equal in my mind, each with different positives and negatives. I was just sad that we had had to make the choice. I don't want to move.

Even if it is what I signed up for.

I signed up for this when I promised Jesus as a little girl that I "wanted to be a missionary for him someday, when I grew up."

It is what Tim and I signed up for when we moved to Niger, and then to Quebec.

Part of serving God is counting the cost and this is one of the costs.

I am loath to call it a sacrifice because I will have a roof over my head, our gang of 4 plus 1 (when she gets done with her Bible program this year) will all have a bed and we will be together. We will figure out a way to cram the big kids, my parents or other family in if and when they come to visit. We'll have people over, lots, just because we do that, and we'll be snug and laugh lots. I will choose to be content and I will probably learn to love this new space.

Signing the lease today, however? 

I didn't want to do it, even if I had signed up for it. 

It felt like a heavy, burdensome sacrifice.

It gets old not knowing from one year to the next if we'll be in the same place. It gets old realizing there are still boxes I've not unpacked from the last two moves. It gets old not having the stability of a house we own.

Then I remember one of Paul's prayers for the Ephesians.

"...having the of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe." (from Eph 1) 

This is nothing more than a momentary impression of something that today, feels like a sacrifice. I've an eternal home awaiting me in the future. Once there, I'll never have to move again.