Holding On

I walk by this tree every day on my way to work. Last week, it caught my attention. I wondered, "How could this tree still be holding on to fall-colored leaves in the latter part of January?"

As the mental picture of that tree kept circulating in my mind, I began to see that tree as a metaphor for what I've been going through. Over the past two weeks, while my allergies have been raging, I've realized that I have been holding on to some "leaves" of my own.

For instance, I've recognized that I have been holding on to fear. One fear was the fear of using a Neti Pot. One of my close friends suffers tremendously from allergies and sinus problems, and she's been pushing me for a couple of months to get a Neti Pot. I swore I'd aspirate the solution to my lungs because I couldn't envision how pouring water UP one nostril would allow it to come out the other nostril. But I gave in. I tried it. The jury's still out on the Neti Pot's effectiveness because Puffs facial tissues with lotion remain my constant companion. The Neti Pot itself has not been life-changing. Conquering my fear of trying something new has. Now I just need to apply this technique to my fear of flying so that I can make a trip to NYC later this year.

I have also noticed that I've been holding on to pride, though it's hard to know whether to call it pride, shame, or just another form of fear. You see, I haven't written in the past couple of weeks because (a) I was exhausted from battling with my allergies and (b) I didn't want to write something that was subpar. After I posted about my migraine aura, I regretted it. I was somewhat embarrassed because I don't want this to be a "downer" blog or to be defined by my health limitations. Since then I've read some of Natalie Goldberg's book entitled Writing Down The Bones in which she states, "If every time you sat down [to write], you expected something great, writing would always be a great disappointment," and "If you are not afraid of the voices inside you, you will not fear the critics outside you." (pp. 21 & 33) So, because it is in my nature to write to process things, I can't guarantee that what I post here will always be a great read. But I'm okay with that now.

Thankfully, not everything that I've been holding on to needs to be dropped.

During my allergy battles, I've been compelled to hold on to God because I haven't had much energy. And amazingly, I have not missed a day or even an hour of work during this time. I've also been encouraged by His Word and think it is no coincidence that I have been reading through the Book of Job throughout this time.

So in light of the tree that is still holding on to its fall-colored leaves, I challenge you to think about what "leaves" you are holding on to that you might want to let go of. After all, spring is just around the corner, and you'll want to have room to bloom!

People in my Pathway

Do you ever wonder why God put a certain person in your path? I’ve pondered this question a lot throughout my life. I can look back over my life and see how God brought a new person into my life at just the time when I needed a friend and then that person faded out of my life just as quietly as he or she had entered my life.

Back in junior high, all of the cliques were feuding, and I seemed to end up on the outside. By myself. Alone.

Then, the Sunday before the first day of 7th grade, a new person my age showed up in my Sunday school class. This may sound like a normal occurrence. But, I’m from a small town, and new people were few and far between. This person offered me friendship, taught me how to make friendship bracelets and how to play Nintendo, and helped me make other friends. A few years later, this friend moved away. And we lost touch.

About ten years later, I had another person end up on my same path. I had been through some rough times emotionally. So, I assumed that God must have put this new person in my life to be my soulmate. After all, this person shared many of my same interests. But several years later, I was able to look back and see that person’s role was simply to teach me to trust again, which was no small task but seemed less significant considering the role that I had assumed that person was playing.

And then there are the people that I come across each day that have needs that pull on my heartstrings but I’m not sure what role I’m supposed to play. For instance, there is a man who lives outside my work building. He sits or stands beside a trash bin for most of the day. He has had the same set of clothes on for several years now and wears a winter jacket and long pants year-round. He never begs or even speaks to others, though sometimes he does appear to be talking to himself.

Having read Same Kind of Different As Me, an amazing book about the role a homeless man played and continues to play in the life of an international art dealer, I can’t walk by this homeless man without acknowledging his presence, if not with words, at least with a glance and a facial expression of some sort. I usually pray for God to provide for this man’s needs and help him find a real place to live and gainful employment. Yet, I struggle with whether I should be doing more.

I often wonder when I pray that prayer, “Lord, is it your desire to provide for this man‘s needs by having me bring him food? Should I offer him reading material to help pass the day? What’s my role? Just to listen? To pray? How do I show this man Your love without putting myself in danger?”

I don’t want my actions to be stifled by fear, but that last question is a nagging one. It reminds me of the line from The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe in which the children ask whether Aslyn is safe, and the reply goes something like, “Of course He’s not safe, but He’s good.”

“Lord, I know that You are good. I want to love others well. If that means praying for a person, please bring that person to mind often. If that means providing food, help me to be obedient rather than fearful. If that means extending a listening ear to someone, help me not to be so selfish with my time. Show me how to be salt and light to those You put in my path.”