Running From Thunder

My dog, Scout, is terrified of thunder. Anytime there is a rumble in the sky he runs for cover. The problem, as you can imagine, is that you can’t actually hide from thunder. This, however, does not stop him from trying! He crawls behind a half open door, he goes into the bathroom and wedges himself between the toilet and tub, but alas, the thunder can still find him. He runs around, his little nails clicking annoyingly on the floor, looking for safety.

We always try to soothe our nervous little dog. We tell him it’s alright; we pet him and whisper that he is a “good boy” (my other posts on Scout will show this is not actually true). But it matters not, because none of this helps. He is frantic. His beady eyes are even more crazed than normal. He will not be calmed, he must run around looking for shelter from the noise that is attacking our home. Perhaps it is better outside, he scratches at the door. Despite my best efforts to tell him it’s actually worse out there, he must see for himself. Sure enough he is instantly jumping at the door with muddy paws to get back inside.

Do you have invisible fears? Is there something that has you franticly running round? Do you look for safety, not behind a bedroom door, but in a bank account or job security. While you would never wedge yourself behind the toilet (I hope!), do you make sure you have enough money, supplies, friends or connections to keep you “safe”?

We want freedom from our entanglements or we long for more security. Inside or outside, we still have the same fears, the same longings, the same insecurities.

I have written several articles on my dog, Scout. He has much to teach us on doing it wrong. The truth is I often see myself in his mishaps. He pushes his doggie nose against the window longing for what’s outside and then once he has broke free of the constraints of the home he wants back in. Isn’t this us? Give me freedom, no wait; I want security! We long for what we don’t have and then pine for what we’ve left behind. Scout is very good at pining. He will lay for hours at any closed door only to immediately want out of said room once he achieves entrance.

We shake our heads at his antics, but really, how often do we act like a crazy dog running from thunder? I want to tell Scout, you can’t hide from a loud noise, but he will not be convinced.

What do we run from? What are the loud noises that have you running for cover?

For me it’s a lot of the what ifs. What if this person is just using me, what if I get lost, what if I get sick, what if I don’t have enough of . . .

I spend a significant amount of energy imagining hypothetical situations. Imagining the worst. Getting worked up and fretting over what could happen, what might happen, what I fear the most. The thunder of my fears shakes the frame of my house and I can’t find a safe place to land.

Maybe like me, you have had the worst happen so it doesn’t necessarily feel like fiction, but just being practical. Being prepared because sometimes the worst does happen. That loud cracking storm isn’t just a bunch of noise, but produces lightning and it actually strikes the ground setting your whole life aflame. Storms can do real damage, uprooting our lives and blowing them all over the place. We are left cleaning up the mess for day, weeks and even a lifetime.

As a side note, since I started this article (some weeks ago) there have been many real disasters in the lives of our close family and friends. I even thought about abandoning this piece; maybe Scout is right after all? More than ever lately, I’ve wanted to run and hide from the thunder, as life has proven that it is sometimes followed by a very real storm. So I proceed hesitantly on this topic, as the Holy Spirit keeps nudging me through Bible study and prayer, that we cannot live our lives like a scared Jack-Rat Terrier mix (I’m convinced this particular breed was never meant to exist). I blame the Fall. So, if we are subject to the evils of this world what are we to do? Hide? Shake in fear? Refuse to be comforted?

The Bible does not teach me to do any of the above, so I have to ask myself should I carry on with this article by faith and not by sight?

How about you? Are you walking by sight? (It can look pretty bad) Or by faith?

Most storms are just seasonal with some rain and thunder, maybe some sideway fireworks, but not a tempest to blow through our lives. How do we quell our fears and what ifs? How do we lay down in the storm and sleep at night, instead of pacing the house with our tongues hanging out (or is that just Scout)?

The ways I don’t want to be like Scout are many! I don’t want to let every loud boom shake my faith and steal my peace. I don’t want to run around when I can lay down in green pastures (Ps 23).

So what still rings true—even after a storm has struck or is threatening us in the distance? Well, the promises of the Bible echo down through the ages.

We are not, however, promised happiness and easy times. I checked; it’s not there. But we are promised peace in the storm.

Wait! What? This isn’t exactly what I’m looking for.

Jesus tells us in the Gospel of John that while we will face hard times, we can face them with peace because He is in control. I assume He tells us this because it won’t feel this way. We will be tempted to think the train has fallen off the rails and nobody is in charge. Yet, He knew we would need this reassurance. Like a terrified dog we tend to seek shelter in all the wrong places. Hiding behind a door, say, to save us from thunder. But because the Bible tells us that God knows the end from the beginning, we can actually sleep at night. “Declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are not yet done, saying, My counsel shall stand, and I will do all my pleasure.” (Is 46:10) “And the LORD, he it is that doth go before thee; he will be with thee, he will not fail thee, neither forsake thee; fear not, neither be dismayed . . .” (Deut 31:8)

And here is one of my favorite verses; one I memorized as a teenager, wrote on a card and hung over my bed. It’s probably the verse I can most readily bring to mind—it’s truly hidden in my heart.

“These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33

Now, what I wish it said, is something like, “Dear Christian, it’s only smooth sailing from here. You will only be happy all the time and get everything your heart desires.” But, alas the promise is different and if we really examine what Jesus is saying we can see that it’s actually a far deeper promise; it cuts through the noise and distractions of life to the heart of the matter, which is eternal peace and security. Fair weather comes and goes, as do storms, but if we can claim His promise of peace, our boat won’t be rocked quite so hard because our eyes will be fixed on the firm rock of Christ and not the choppy waters of this life.

The promise of peace is ours for the taking, but how do we get to it when we are cowering in fear? The disciples ran to Jesus. In Matthew 8, we learn about a time when they were crossing the sea and a storm arose and the wind and waves began to beat on the ship. Jesus was sleeping in the back of the boat and they woke Him, crying, “Master, carest thou not that we perish?” How often do we run to the Lord saying, “God don’t you see what’s happening in my life?” Don’t you care?” Jesus arose and rebuked the wind and told the sea to be at peace and suddenly there was a great calm. Then he says to his close companions and disciples, “Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?”

Right.

Why am I so fearful?

I do have faith, but it is often so weak. “Lord, I believe but, help my unbelief,” was the cry of the father in Mark 9:24. How often is this the sorrow of our hearts? Help us Lord to believe the promises you have given us, even when we can’t see them. We can run to the Lord, appeal to Him as our father. He will answer; sometimes in our spirits (our hearts), sometimes through His Word or a teaching, or perhaps a friend to remind and comfort us in the hope that is ours already.

“And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in thee.” (Ps 39:7)

We can seek Him out in the Bible where we are reminded of these promises of peace and even joy in the storms. We are beckoned to pour out our hearts in prayer, knowing He listens and cares. The true blessing is not, after all, in the ease of life or the way things work out, but in the relationship itself: we are safely tucked away inside the arms of our Saviour. Our spirit can rest and even sleep during a storm, because unlike Scout, we know that God is in control.

Further Reading:

Fuzzy Hope

Why Struggles are Important

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Drafts on Margins

Let’s see, do I have everything? Computer and cord, blanket scarf (in the unfortunate event air conditioning has turned a lovely fall day into the polar vortex), library book to return, shopping bags and list, Bible study (in case I get a few minutes in car line) and the snack bag (never forget the snack bag!). This is how I leave my house most days. I run from one thing to the next, always having to think three steps ahead. Do I have the notes for that meeting, the right shoes to get a work out in and enough food to get me through the next six hours? It’s a lot and as you can imagine, I often fall behind and have to call my next meeting and say I’m running late. I jam too much into a day and if one thing gets off track, the whole day is off-the-rails and I’m running, running, running!

Have you ever noticed how pages come with margins? That lovely clean space around the perimeter of the words so there aren’t letters or punctuation marks running right off the page and falling into the abyss. Margins offer a space to work that leaves a little room. Margins keep all the thoughts confined to the middle of the page. But perhaps the best part is that they leave room for mistakes. I make a lot of mistakes; how about you? I misjudge how long a conversation will take, what the expectations are, or I show up in the wrong shoes with the wrong attitude. Margins allow time to find parking and to take the long way round if the bridge is out. So, if I get a little lost or need to take a phone call, margins give built-in sidelines to my day—to my life, which gives me space for such things.

Am I Available?

Margins give us room to breathe. A few minutes to collect ourselves and the space to help others. More importantly, margins give room for God to use us. When I pack my day so tight, I’m not available for any assignments He may have for me. Maybe a conversations that starts out about the weather (a fav topic here in Michigan) takes a deeper turn and demands more time or maybe one of your kid’s friends asks for a ride home, but really it’s a divine appointment for prayer. If I don’t have any margins in my day for such things, I will miss out on what really matters. Is my goal to check off my to-do list? Or to bless people? Do I get up in the morning with the goal of turning out three loads of laundry, replying to work emails, and helping with the school play? (Surely these things need to be done.) Or is my goal to be available to those who may need me?

The other day at the grocery store, the checkout girl was new and young and she was struggling. I had built in extra time to go the store so I was able to be patient, but the woman behind me was loudly complaining about how slow the line was moving (I saw myself in this woman), but I just smiled kindly as the girl apologized for needing to repack my bags a couple times; she was going to need some encouragement to get her through the next client. I have to build margins into my day and hope others build margins into their days when I might . . . say, lock my keys in my car (and then my son’s piano teacher has to load up her 4 kids and mine and come get me at the post office and then drive me home to get the spare key and drive me back again!). So . . . I might need some big margins.

Creating White Space

Last week I talked about making time for kindness in our days: see Drafts on Kindness in Tiny Beads. I have been pondering just how does one build free moments into our hectic lives? There is no easy answer and it looks different for everyone depending on where we are in life. Perhaps getting up a little earlier than usual? One of my friend’s gets up at 5:00 a.m. to get her time with the Lord in before her children wake, and I believe she also gets in a whole pot of coffee (I mean—it is 5:00 a.m.!) To me that is a ridiculous time; clearly meant for sleep! But I guess we are all different. Of course, we can not stack our days so tight, perhaps spacing out meetings in case they run late (don’t they always?). If you have small children (or just any children or even a dog) getting ready to leave 20 minutes sooner so you have time for the lost shoe hunt, muddy paws, spilled juice on the one day you actually thought—maybe, just maybe, you could finally wear white again.

I just got a text about a playdate after school today; and while I did say yes, I put a hard border on the time. If I make it home by 5:00 p.m. instead of 5:30 p.m., that extra half hour margin will allow me to be a more patient mother at bedtime, which is most often when we have our best talks about God and life. (I’ll let you know how it goes . . .) Update** So, I did make it home around 5:00 p.m. and still felt crazy trying to get it all done; but when my son asked me later to read to him about the weird creatures in the Bible in Ezekiel, instead of being ridiculously past bedtime it was just sorta past bedtime—so I went for it. I was glad there was that little clean margin on my page for that conversation.

These are simple ideas, and I know there are just days that have no margins (and sometimes the Lord calls for our time when we feel we have no time to give). Yesterday, a friend texted me after her child threw a fit about having to wear pants to school and then they got in the car late to only realize she was completely out of gas. This is the type of day where the words are written right on to the edge of the page with no room to breathe. Maybe there is something you need to say no to in order to have more time in your life for God to work. My husband and I have had seasons of saying no to good and fun activities, like sports and sitting on the board of great nonprofits, because it just made our days spill off the pages. Things I would love to volunteer for or writing projects that I would be thrilled to take on, but knew it would just fill my days to capacity and I need (I think we all need) margins for the Holy Spirit to move.

I find when I don’t build space in my day, I get crazy, I have no patience, no time and I more than not end up with a headache that has me stuck at home anyway. I want to take it all in. I want to fill every second of my day with coffee dates, work projects, community events. I think of those old letters people used to write when paper and postage were expensive and they would literally fill ever inch with teeny-tiny writing, even on the envelope.

Does your life look like a Jane Austen letter?

But my eyes need a place to rest—white space, if you will. Gaps from the words of life to just not have to focus and think and try. Margins allow us to write postcripts to our day, underline and draw arrows out to the edges; making note of this or that, praying for this person or that person as the Lord lays it on our hearts. I know for me, I may need time to take an unexpected phone call. I may need time to comfort and encourage hurting people; taking note of what they are really saying and what they really need. I may need time to stay late and talk. Sometimes I need your margins and sometimes you need mine. I’m trying to keep clean edges on the pages of my day.

What does the Lord want to write in your margins?

Is there space for Him? Or have you filled your days tight like a Jane Austen letter?

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DRAFTS on The Time I Melted the Dog’s Face

Don't worry; this is not a post on housework. But it is about a time I tried ironing or also known as the time I melted the dog's face. There are many, many things I struggle with like the aforementioned housework; and then there are things I'm just plain bad at and ironing would fit into that category. But sometimes we are forced to do things we have no business doing. That is just life. The day of reckoning came for me when I dragged my six-year-old to the craft store while I picked out fabric for a project. As you will soon see, I'm no good at crafts either, so I was forcing my friend, Tracy, to make me a shower gift (I do this all the time) and in exchange I continue to be the Ethel to her Lucy. 

After an exhausting hour in the store, against my better judgment, I allowed my son to pick out a craft. He selected these things called Perler beads. The idea being that you take these beads and put them on a peg board to create something like a turtle or a cat. Then you iron the beads to melt them together. Easy— right!?

So, I unearthed my iron from the basement. As I plugged it in, my son, *Wolfy* asked what it was. Which makes sense because I had yet to iron anything in his lifetime. I replied that it was, in fact, an iron. He asked what one did with an iron and I said, “iron things”. He asked the next logical question: is it scary? And I answered: I think so. At that extract moment, the iron let out a hissing spray of steam like a medieval dragon and both my son and dog dove under the bed in pure fear! This is what happens when you don't iron regularly . . . or at all.

Once I tamed the beast and coaxed the team out from under the bed, I set to my task of ironing this beaded puppy. It must be stated here that my son was called puppy for at least two years, so the love for puppies is fierce. He had worked long and hard on his creation (because Perler beads are no joke) and my only job was to fuse it together with a little heat from the hissing dragon. Wolfy and Scout quickly left the room as I cranked it up all the way and laid it on the dog. When I pulled it away, it looked a little —well—perplexed. I sent Tracy a picture and she texted back: Awww, you melted it’s face.

Yup, I melted the dog's face. My dog, Scout, was not wrong to hide from the threat of a similar fate.

We all have things we struggle with, but can't get away from as parents, spouses, friends, employees and writers.

Fortunate for me, ironing doesn't come up very often, although my mom would argue that perhaps it should, but other things do—more important things. Perhaps forgiveness is hard for you or patience and when you are forced to pull these things out they are rusty and scary and quite frankly could melt a dog's face.

Maybe it’s a part of your job, such as being nice to rude people or maybe you are in a parenting stage that you are just plain bad at like having sympathy for teenage problems. Perhaps being happy for others who are achieving your dreams, when getting there yourself is proving difficult. 

This is great lighting, but this poor dog’s face is much more melted than it appears—we all love a good filter.

What is the "ironing" in your life? Is it something tangible like caring for an aging parent or is it something emotional like serving your boss who you feel should not be in charge of anything. I did go on to iron a turtle, a cat and another dog with varying degrees of success. No one who knows better, will be asking me to iron anything, but I can do it when life demands.   

Ironing aside, we are all asked to do hard things. Challenges we feel unequipped to handle. When we are naturally good at something we tend to do it in our own might; thinking, yes, I’m good at connecting with people or I’m trained for an emergency. But when something arises that is out of our wheel house we acutely feel the lack of our own abilities. It is in these moments that I have learned (often the hard way) to find strength in someone else, someone bigger than me — my personality, education, background — when I’m out of my element, I have to turn to the Lord. He tells us in His Word that our weaknesses are made perfect in His strength. Do we believe this? What does it look like when we live this way? I have to lean on Him to walk through the anxiety and fears that often accompany the areas of my life that make me want to pull the covers over my head.

Parenting asks so much of us, as does marriage or work. At times, demanding things we don’t feel able to give, but know we must. God does not ask us to go it alone. He says come to me, you who are tired and weary. Why does quitting sometime seems easier? Because I’m trying to do it on my own and I simply can not do it. Writing this blog forces me to talk about it, ask people to read and share it and that makes me want to cringe. It makes me want to quit. But I asked the Lord to bless my writing, to use my words to be an encouragement for the weary, a needed word or bright spot. It is only in His strength and not my feeble attempts that any good will grow out of these scattered seeds. Perhaps you feel this at your job or in a relationship, you feel the weight of doing it alone, when the Lord never asked this of us.

Write about something you tried to do in your own strength. How did it go? (Did you melt the dog’s face?) What would it look like if you tried to rely on God’s strength instead?

*This is my son’s chosen nickname, which I’m using for blogging purposes—but ironically one of my fav names growing up was Wolfgang and I distinctly remember my mom saying she hoped I would marry a man that would not let me name a child this. Ha! The Wolfgang name will be victorious. I don’t get this last sentence?? This last sentence is from my mom and it makes me laugh so hard I had to leave it in maybe nobody gets it but me(?)

Drafts on The Other Side of the Door

Almost every time I walk into the kitchen, I find my dog, Scout, sitting with his nose pressed to the door waiting, hoping somebody will let him outside. We open the door and he skitters his paws like he is on ice, and nearly throws his back out to slide through that door. Once outside he does a quick loop of the yard. If the neighbor dog isn’t out to bark at (they have a fervent contest to be crowned the loudest dog in the neighborhood) or a dastardly squirrel isn’t on the fence who needs to be put in his place, he circles back around to sit with his nose pressed up to the door waiting, hoping somebody will let him back inside. Once inside he does a loop of the kitchen to see if anyone dropped a stray crumb or preferably a whole sandwich. Then, you guessed it, back to the door.

Scout hates a shut door! He wants, nay, he needs to know what is on the other side. If you dare to shut him out of the bathroom, he will press his little spotted nose to the crack in the door and wait in quiet desperation for someone to have mercy on him and open the door with their magical door-opening-hands. But, if you take him into the bathroom with you, he will do the same thing on the reverse side of the door, boring holes with his eyes into the oh, so very opaque wood, longing to know what is happening on the other side of that door. If Scout could have a super power it would be x-ray vision. He needs with all his doggy soul to know WHAT IS HAPPENNING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT DOOR?!

I see much of myself in Scout, not only the fierce love (that reads as desperation) of food, the excitement over friends that can seem aggressive but, also, the ability to do nothing all day and still be exhausted. When I watch him, nose pressed against that door, believing with all his heart that there is something better on the other side, I see a flaw in myself. One that has me wasting time wanting something different that will not make me anymore satisfied than what I have on this side of the door.

Why is it that we long for something more and what we have is rarely enough? We want our houses bigger, our thighs smaller, our electronics faster and our lives slower. If we can just take a vacation or get that job or find a best friend or the perfect hair color we would feel happier. We try to claw our way through one door just to turn around and want back inside, because maybe that was better after all. I’m learning to look away from the “closed” door, find what I need on this side. Maybe someone did drop a whole sandwich in here and I missed it because I was too busy staring at the door leading outside.

There is actually a very small window that works for me of not being too busy, but having purpose; of not feeling uncomfortably stuffed, but having enough to eat. Do I really want more house to clean or too much time to sit on the beach alone? In reality no, I want a balance of these things. In the Bible, Philippians 4:12 says something like, learn to be content when you have too little or when you have too much. There always seem to be spiritual issues when we go through struggles, but surprisingly, at least for me, there are just as many issues when we have everything we (think) we want. Whatever side of the door you find yourself on you will have a constant when you look outside of your physical surroundings for contentment and peace.

When I’m struggling through a valley, I just want out of the valley. I want the pain to stop, I want to feel the sun, but I’m usually in deep prayer during these times, depending on God in a desperate way that makes me not totally fall on my temporal helps like family, friends, money, doctors and my comforts. I look to the Lord and build my spiritual stamina like no other time. On the other side of that door, the one full of comfort, peace and light, in my case - coffee, scones, laughter with friends and days at the beach - when all is well; that’s when I can forget that I need a Savior. I can drift from the reality that it’s not about making myself comfortable or happy and this is a dangerous place to linger too long.

There is this really interesting proverb in the Bible where the author asks some things of the Lord. He says don’t make me either rich or poor, but give me just enough for each day. This gives me pause. Apparently, there must be a sweet spot spiritually where we want to live, enough but not too much. Of course this isn’t just with finances and provisions, but with busyness and relationships and work. We seem to be thrown off balance when we have affluence and when we have need. What this prayer in Proverbs 30:7-9 is asking of the Lord is something in the middle, an ease or peace which flows into thankfulness. I’m trying to be at ease in the room I’m in and not standing with my nose pressed to the door wanting something more or different. What this looks like for me is saying this is enough right now in my season of life. Not comparing myself or striving to have everything or be everything. Not saying yes to all opportunities that cross my path. Deciding what is important to me: time spent in devotion, time with family and friends, work I love (like writing this blog) which means not making as much money or getting as many publishing credits, not being part of things that sound really cool, but would spread me too thin. Stepping away from the door!

Write about ways you feel as if you have your nose pressed to the door, wanting something different instead of focusing on where you are.

Journal about what not having too much or too little looks like in your life. Are you too busy? Are you lacking in relationships?

Sharing is good for the soul. Send me your writing, I would love to post it in Typeset