Fancy Free

Last night I had the distinct privilege of stepping outside my usual circle to attend our church's annual high school girls' winter retreat. Mind you, I elected not to retreat overnight. I am far too old and grouchy to sleep on the floor in a room full of giggling girls. I chose instead to spend the evening with them and then retreated myself right into the comfort of my own bed. The story of how I came to attend the retreat is fun: my cousin, who is a fun-filled, Spirit-led, unique-in-all-ways Bible teacher, called me up last week and said, "Hey! I am teaching at this girls' retreat at a church that I think is pretty close to you. Could I spend the night at your house?" Turns out that it was MY church! We have both been surprised, I think, to discover how many mutual acquaintances we have--it's a small world, after all.

The theme of the retreat was "Fancy Free." The thought of trying to communicate what freedom in Christ truly looks like to a room filled with 9th-12th grade girls is SO intimidating to me, but Christina and the other leaders made it look easy. It is good that I recognize that my God-given talents lie in the 4-year-old realm and not with 14-year-olds. I really enjoyed being able to sit back and participate in meaningful worship and absorb some sound Bible teaching. The theme Scripture is in Matthew 6: 25-34. Here it is from The Message translation:

"If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don't fuss about what's on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds. Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion--do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers--most of which are never even seen--don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."

So here's what I learned. Or more accurately, here's what I was gently reminded of:

1--I was created purposefully, lovingly, and carefully by THE God of the universe. He crafted me for his pleasure. He delights in me. He cares for me. Tiny sparrows and unseen wildflowers have everything they need. If the Creator cares enough about those little flowers to give them lovely colors and perfect designs, why in the world do I insult him by not believing that his design for me is perfect as well? I am so accustomed to my norm--my day to day, ordinary being, that I allow myself to become settled. I play a lot of different roles in this life: I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister. I am a friend, a teacher, a neighbor. These are all good and accurate descriptions of me. But none of these descriptions necessarily defines me. Yes, I am Mommy to the 3 little cowboys. What if I let that be the thing that defined my life? I would be left with pieces missing, because I was created to be more than just that. There is a universe of possibility out there, and my Jesus wants me to make the most of every chance I have to be the best me that I can be.

2--I can't be free if I don't trust Him. I mean, really really trust. Trust in the sense that I will go anywhere, do anything, give everything...all for Him. Trust in the sense that I am willing--no, EXCITED--to jump into the great unknown if He calls me to, because it never occurs to me that He won't be there to catch me. I can, and should, look for ways to demonstrate His love and glory in the middle of disaster and crisis simply because he is faithful and trustworthy. I am safe as long as I am with my Lord.

I love 4-year-olds. But it was a nice change of pace to go deeper and let my heart be penetrated by the sword of the Spirit. I will be seeking ways to live in God-reality. I don't have to worry. I can relax and be me. What a good God!

Wanting to Worship

I am spending a lazy Sunday afternoon in my polka-dot pajamas, curled up in my bed. Outside the window, I am watching the last of a Texas spring snow melt away and trying not to think about how much I enjoyed the 70 degree temperatures less than 48 hours ago. In the other room, I can hear the little cowboys cheering and jeering their way through a new Wii game. Hubby is passing back and forth, cleaning out cabinets--due in part to boredom, and in part to a need for some spring cleaning around here. He's a good, good man.

This morning I got up early, got all fancied up in my best jeans, and headed to the church house. I haven't been to church in a month, and I HAVE MISSED IT. I am of the opinion that the command God gives us to "not give up meeting together" (Hebrews 10:25) is a lovely one indeed. We love our church. I was glad to be there when my boys practically skipped into their classrooms. I was glad to be there when I got hugs from friends, big and small, who I haven't seen in a while. I was glad to be there when "my" usher, Mr. Bill (who keeps mini chocolate bars in his coat pocket to give to the kids each week), opened the door for me and when I made eye contact with precious Ms. Dessie over the balcony railing and blew her a kiss. I was glad to be there to sing the words of the great hymn "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing." I was glad to be there to hear a sermon on what authentic worship is and what it is not.

I jotted this tidbit down in my notes: "Worship is done everywhere--even in the middle of crisis and disaster." What a timely reminder! I will be mindful of that when I go back to the oncology office on Wednesday for a chemotherapy teaching session. This session, slated to last 1 1/2 hours, will be Hubby and me and my parents, learning everything we ever wanted (or did not want) to know about chemo. She will tell us when my chemo sessions will be, what to expect, and what they think the drugs will or will not do to my body. They say that information is power, but I am scared of what I will learn at that appointment. I don't want to find out about a chemotherapy protocol that has been specially designed for me. I don't even want it to exist!

Even more than that, I dread what must happen after the appointment on Wednesday. Hubby and I must sit down with our sons and try to explain chemotherapy to them. I have the same knot in my stomach that I had four weeks ago when we told them that the cancer had returned. How can I explain to my children that the only way to fight is with more sickness? This seems even more complicated after a conversation I had with Goliath yesterday. He and I went out in the snow yesterday afternoon to run a few errands, and on our way back I stopped at the dry cleaners to pick up some clothes we had waiting there. It went something like this:

Goliath: Mom, what are we doing here?

Me: I need to pick up these sweaters so Dad has them for church tomorrow.

Goliath: Why are we going to church tomorrow?

Me: Ummm...because we always go to church. We haven't been able to go for a few weeks, but it's important that we are there to learn and worship.

Goliath: We just didn't go because of your surgery.

Me: That's right, buddy. Goliath, do you think that God stopped loving me because I got sick?

Goliath: Noooooo...

Me: And do you think that God stopped loving you and your brothers and your dad because you feel sad about me?

Goliath: Nooooo...that's not how it works. But Mom, I don't know why we have to talk about this, because you're not sick anymore.

My sons believe that I am well. They understand that I am not 100%--they see me resting and taking medicine--but as far as we can tell, they think that my release from the hospital meant that the cancer is over. This week will be a bad surprise for them.

This disease is my crisis, my own personal disaster. I am sad and scared. But in spite of that, I want to worship. I want to show my sons what real worship looks like, so they can draw from that when they are ready. God is not contained by my cancer or boxed in by my sorrow. His goodness and loving kindness reach far beyond my weakness. Even when I am hurting, I will choose to worship. Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise. He is so worthy!

"I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonders. I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High." Psalm 9:1-2

Thought for the Day

We have been having revival at church this week. In some ways, the services are old-fashioned, and I've found that strangely familiar and comforting--a throwback to my childhood. Yet God has definitely been there, and continues to speak in new and fresh ways. Here's a thought that I picked up on that is worth contemplating:

God never calls us to do anything that He does not equip us to do.

Okay then.