Olympic Reflections, Part II – Dealing with Disappointment

Thursday, August 14th, 2008

For all the glorious gold-medal moments, there are so many disappointments for those athletes who work hard to make it to the Olympic Games only to come up short on their goals. For some, they give it their very best and are simply out-performed by another athlete, but for others, it is a silly mistake or break in concentration that keeps them from their aim. Personally, I look at each one of them and am in awe of their accomplishments whether or not they win gold, so it is tough for me to really identify with the disappointment they must feel when they don’t quite make it. Ironically, when I am disappointed it’s not so hard for me to relate to that ‘bitterness of loss’. In fact, when disappointment comes, I find it very challenging to pick myself up and continue on. It is easy to mope, pout in a corner, call it quits, or let disappointment morph into misdirected frustration or anger. Now that my daughter is two years old, this process is all too familiar to me, and while it is sometimes cute to see her work herself out of a pickle, it’s not quite as fun to realize that I sometimes respond to challenges and disappointment much the same. Maybe I don’t look like I’m two, but I’m sure there are times that I act like it. 

I started thinking about the topic of dealing with disappointment after watching one of the gymnasts on the US team in the women’s team final fall off the beam, followed by a tumble-gone-wrong on the floor exercise. Same gymnast, two different events, two heartbreaking mistakes. You could see the disappointment on her face after each routine, but what I noticed most was that even though both mistakes happened early in their respective routines, she picked herself up and turned in otherwise fantastic performances. I don’t think we’re always able to shake disappointment in an instant, but what would happen if we chose to press on through it? I think there are unexpected blessings for those who lay hold of tenacity and aren’t willing to let obstacles keep them from giving their best effort. 

I have been dealing with a few small disappointments today. No, I didn’t fall off a balance beam (nor will you ever find me on one!), but I’ve been having to deal with the reality of life’s limitations, and the fact that I cannot have everything the way I’d like it to be. In my effort to put aside the two-year-old tantrum I’d like to be having, I thought a little reflection on this subject would be prudent. I’ve already come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong with feeling disappointed about something, but with every disappointment comes an opportunity to choose a wise response. First, I’ll remind myself of my recent reflections on the fact that the world does not revolve around me (read it here), and second, I’ll just boldly write for my own eyes to see – Emily, in the midst of your disappointment, you have great cause to hope! You are loved by the Almighty God, and He does care about your unfulfilled desires. You may not see them filled in the way you expect, but delight yourself in Him, and surely He will give you the desires of your heart. (Ps. 37:4)

“Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” 

Romans 5:3-5 

There is my confession. Now I’m off to pick myself up and press on. Gold-medals are not the only measure of victory.

Olympic Reflections, Part I – Discipline

Tuesday, August 12th, 2008

It’s that time again. The time the whole world is watching record after record fall, as athletes of every variety test the limits of the human body, and spectators from every nation marvel at their skills. I’m fascinated by the Olympic Games on many levels, and will be the first to admit that I’m very caught up in the excitement of it all. I think my favorite part of watching the Olympic coverage is the individual stories they feature going into a new segment. In some ways, the stories are unique, but in many ways they are all very similar. The athlete recognizes they have an ability at an early age, early ability is nurtured into love for a sport, love for a sport grows in to drive to improve. Throw in determination, commitment, discipline, and some personal hardship that must be overcome, and you have yourself an Olympic story. Yet, for all their similarities, I’m captivated by each tale individually, as if I’ve never heard that story (in some form) before. The story of the individual’s struggle to discipline themselves, and to overcome, so the fruit of their lives culminates into a legacy of greatness in the area of their investment. 

I had already been mulling this exact subject over when we arrived to church on Sunday, and wouldn’t you know, the message had to do with various forms of discipline, and how we as believers can reach for our divinely-given dreams in the context of personal and corporate discipline. I wasn’t really thinking of this topic in terms of how the body of Christ, together as a whole, could itself have an Olympic story of sorts, but I was considering the life of individual believers, of my own life. What would it look like if I set my face like a flint toward one aim, and how will I be different if I set in motion a ‘training regimen’ so that I can discover my full potential and make the most of every day I have? Like many, I have longed for some variation of an Olympic Gold reward. You won’t find me looking for it in any pool or stadium, as I am not an athlete in the least, but I do think even those of us who aren’t seeking after Olympic fame have a desire to find out what we’re really made of. Some of us are aware of that desire (even if we haven’t begun pursuing it), and some of us are just trying to cope with the piles of heartache we find ourselves under. Let me be clear that I don’t believe willpower or discipline to be a substitute for the Holy Spirit’s work in our lives, but I do think we have a part to play in laying hold of God’s promises for us, and that part requires us to learn how to become disciplined about our pursuits. 

This blog itself is an exercise in discipline for me. For years I have been talking about how much I want to write, how I wish I could find the time to, and that I just can’t quite discipline myself to sit down and tell the story of my life. Excuse after excuse lends itself to keeping me from this pursuit, but I’m seeing with new eyes that I have much control over how I spend my days. I waste so many hours on frivolous and unimportant things, and wonder why I can’t get on top of the goals I make for myself. So, I’m taking an inventory of my time and priorities, see what really belongs and what doesn’t, and we’ll see if I can become an Olympian in the kingdom of God. I’m not proposing to look (or be) more busy, or to pursue self-improvement in a secular sense, or even to compare myself to anyone else and their successes. I’m proposing to structure my life and time in such a way that I can bear much fruit…not just some, but as much as possible. 

I’m inspired by the Olympic athletes I’ve been following, and I’m amazed at the life insight their discipline embodies. Reaching higher and going farther does not come without a great amount of sacrifice and deliberate training. Though I’m sure every athlete has their bad days, their struggles, and their own personal hurdles to overcome, their pursuit of Olympic gold does not seem to be a begrudging one. They do it because they want to, and they recognize the benefits of their discipline. For those who truly love their sport, it almost seems like that struggle to improve and to succeed is a process of great joy and fulfillment. How I want to have this attitude about life and motherhood! I want to welcome the challenges of each day and order my steps so that I may succeed at making the best-possible investment in my family, and in my pursuit of the Lord’s heart. 

Have you noticed that if you do something regularly while the task is manageable (ahem, housework) that it is much easier to maintain order and cleanliness, but if you do what I do and wait until the mess is sizeable, you never really are able to keep on top of it? What are the things that suck valuable time and energy out of you, all for no good reason? I have to believe that God has supplied us all the time and energy we need to do whatever He might require of us on any given day, but it is up to us to take advantage of it, to multiply it, and to turn over a great harvest for our labor. Discipline is simply a regimen that develops or improves a skill, or in my mind, improves a lifestyle for the better. If I had to identify a top priority for me, it would be to attune my ear to hear God so that He may order my steps, and help me out of my bed of complacency. I won’t succeed at this discipline business without Him. Someone recently shared with me, “Complacency is a poison that kills you one drop at a time.” Now that is a strong statement, and it took me some moments to really grasp it, but I have to agree. At least in my experience–it is my complacency that robs me of a vibrant, alive, and joyful life I desire and find in Christ. What are your thoughts on living a disciplined life? I’d love to hear about your experience. 

Nearly two weeks of Olympic coverage are still ahead, so I’m sure I’ll have some additional Olympic reflections to add soon.

The Blessing of Children

Wednesday, August 6th, 2008

I believe I have mentioned that I am a mother, and for those who don’t know, I have two little people in my care on a daily basis. One is an exuberant two-year old girl, and the other, a handsome 5 month old boy. This is a relatively new role for me (motherhood), but I have to admit, I’m surprised how well it fits me. If someone told me on my wedding day that within just three short years, I’d be the proud mama to these two children, I might have spit milk out my nose and laughed out loud. Not that I didn’t want to have children, but I certainly didn’t have plans to jump head-first into everything baby so soon. In fact, before I had my own, I was rather intimidated by the little things, fearful that I would never be fit for the challenge of full time care, and life-long investment in another human being. I think it is good to be a little intimidated. There is nothing more important than meeting the many needs of our little ones as they grow, learn, and discover the wonder of God for themselves. Parenthood is a journey of self-sacrifice…sacrifice that may seem tough to make until you behold the miracle of your own beloved looking up at you with eyes of innocence and hope. Parenthood is also a ridiculous amount of work, and is not anything like any other ‘full-time job’ I’ve ever had. That said, I wouldn’t trade even the toughest days (or nights) with my kids for anything. It is in the mundane routine I am surprised with the sweetest blessings, and the simplest life lessons from the Lord.

Skip back a few years, and you would have seen me on a very different road. If you’d asked me then, I had it all planned out, and didn’t really need anyone else’s input or wisdom. I was wise in my own eyes, and seemed committed to doing whatever I could to maintain a fast-paced and complicated life. Drama knew me well, and I narrowly escaped many dangerous situations, being just clever enough to barely avoid major catastrophes around every bend. But boy, was it a thrill! Too bad thrills don’t fulfill for long. I never thought a visit from the stork would be the thing to snap me awake, draw me closer than ever to God, and give me a renewed (or perhaps altogether new) appreciation for simplicity and uncomplicated faithfulness. How could the ‘burden’ of parenthood possibly be the very thing that would open more doors to freedom? Well, I don’t claim to understand the mysteries of God, but this is exactly what parenthood has been for me. My children are a blessing to me, not just because they’re adorable and hilarious (which they are), but because I can see what God intends for us in full dependence on Him. I have gleaned the most practical of lessons from my kids–that you can dance without thought of who is watching, sleep when you’re tired, run to your Daddy when you are hurt and see how He delights in you when you throw yourself in His arms. I’m learning that its not hard to be faithful at doing the mundane chores a mother does when she allows her heart to be moved, and even captivated, by the joy of her children. Those little smiles and hugs are all the motivation I need to get real about simplifying and keeping priorities straight. 

At this point, it would seem my children are growing me more than I am growing them. 

“Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth…Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate.”

Psalm 127:3-5

Pocket Rocks, Part II

Monday, August 4th, 2008

I know I still have my dad’s pocket rock…Somewhere. It is one of those little objects you put in such a safe place, you forget where it is and it becomes “lost” for a time. I know I have it, and usually I wouldn’t worry about not remembering exactly where it is but all this writing about it has sent me into a fanatic search to pinpoint it’s exact location, which I have not yet been able to do these past few days. Stinkbugs. I do think I’ve been annoying my husband in my search for it. He’s been giving me funny looks as I rummage high and low in the oddest places. I’m annoyed myself, since I know it is around somewhere, I just don’t know where. Seems like I’ll just have to set aside my need to know where it is for a little while.

I guess this is a good lesson in stashing stuff in “safe” places! I’m guilty of stashing, and its only been in recent (married) years that I’ve learned to let some things go. I think it is safe to say I’ve graduated from pack-rat to pack-and-purge-rat. Sometimes I surprise myself at how I cling to such silly sentimental things. While I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, I’ve also learned how satisfying it can be to clean out your closet. Or your bathroom cabinets, kitchen cabinets, dresser drawers…Seeing piles of forgotten wares make their way off to a better home. I’ve done all of the above in recent months, and knowing that all the extra stuff we don’t need or use is out of here feels really refreshing. On heart subjects, God has been cleaning out my closet for many years now, and those close to me can attest to the fact that my deep-heart journey toward personal wholeness has been an all-consuming one. I’ve described to a few close friends how my journey has in many ways felt like God was yanking one skeleton after another out of my closet, saying, “See this skeleton? This is now mine. Say goodbye to it. You will not be seeing it again.” A conflict in me always followed…the question of whether or not I could (or should) bid my wounds farewell; wounds that had become more like friends than wounds ever should. Our kinship made it so easy to play the victim. And here comes God, tearing them away from me. That doesn’t sound very gentle (it wasn’t) nor was it a very fun process, but now, ten years after the major breakdown (that’s an estimated number) I can say with confidence that I am thankful that those bony lifeless things don’t haunt me anymore, and the friends I have are truly wonderful (living) gifts from God.

In hindsight, I think the experience was more uncomfortable because I didn’t want to let them go, and what could have been a peaceful revolution became a torrential tearing apart. I guess sometimes the process can be a little messy, but when God gets to the business of restoring broken hearts, the victory is already won. When God has your number, just try to say no to Him. Ok, so that’s bad advice. Say yes to Him, but know that even if you do try to say no–He’s going to pursue you with all of heaven to capture your heart and restore it and breathe new life into it. Given what I now know about the famed “peace that passes all understanding”, I would relive every part of my journey in a heartbeat so long as I discovered the joy and purpose I have now. Freedom is worth the pain of the tearing and the ache of the surrender…and one side bonus is I’m no longer afraid of the process. I see its value and am ready at any moment to join with Christ in His suffering in order to rejoice with Him in His victory. Every heartache, disappointment, lesson, dream, and adventure is no match for His glory…and the dreams and adventures He gives us are so magnificent. I’m humbled to be part of His story at all.

I guess what I wanted to say most, is even in the midst of all that heavy skeleton stuff, Jesus was tenderly leading me out of bondage and into freedom. Sometimes I found an inner determination to overcome, sometimes kind friends would hold my hand, sometimes the Lord carried my frail and broken heart when I could not see one glimmer of hope. The thing that really gets me now is that unbeknownst to me, He was working the same kind of miracle in my dad’s heart, knowing that one day we would reunite with a new understanding of the unspoken promises we made to each other in the lagoon on the day we traded pocket rocks. That reuniting has happened, which is likely why the pocket rock experience has been on my mind. So, I can’t find my dad’s pocket rock, though I maintain that I do have it somewhere. And I haven’t specifically asked lately, but I’m sure my dad has mine. It’s probably in his pocket while he works each day, and if its not there, its on his famed table of treasures that sits beside his chair at home…the place where he gathers himself each morning to face the world, and the place he comes home to lay down his cares at the feet of Jesus each night. 

I can’t wait to fill in more of the details of our restored relationship. It is truly a wondrous thing, but it is also a very long (albeit great!) story.