Stepping Up…(From the Night of the Buffalo)

For the past several years, since before my twenty-ninth birthday,  I’ve woken up each morning feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. More accurately, as if that buffalo hit me. Yes…a buffalo, though technically, it was a North-American bison. In opening my eyes to face a new day, in the blink of an eye, I can see the night my dog and I collided with him. The car lights shining on a dark night on the Colorado highway failed to warn us of his shadow standing in the road. We certainly woke him up from a nap, but he crawled off the car and stumbled back into the road behind us to stand again. That buffalo took several years to make me feel the impact of its collision, but I definitely feel it now. I’m lucky: we collided, but nothing shattered, no one died. There’s no question we were protected. It’s really a miracle, but indeed, a miracle that changed everything. Leif Enger wrote, “People fear miracles because they fear being changed-though ignoring them will change you also.” Had I known it was coming, I’m sure I would have been afraid. Now, I pray it has changed me, molded me, transformed me. Now, I fear most ignoring the miraculous in it all.

 

In his powerful Superpower poem, Steve Gross wrote, “it takes practice…to get beyond the whole half-full, half-empty question, and just be grateful for the glass.” I  hope I’ll practice, hope I’ll cultivate that gratitude for the glass I’ve been given. Though I’ve yet to meet another who has shared the experience of hitting a buffalo, I’m definitely not the only one to battle illness, or to spend her life fighting the gravity of life and the depravity of man. As I get moving, get stretching, and receive  the warmth of a hot shower each day, I can feel my broken back begin to hold itself upright again. My muscles and joints begin to move more easily, the head clears, and for the rest of the day, I have the ability to move and walk and live well. Many would give anything just to have two legs that can walk.  I may have to work pretty hard at making this body functional, but if I do, it functions. Many would give anything to have a body responsive to their cues and efforts.  Sure, there’s pain, but I’ve been provided with so many tools, so many gifts, so many friends who love and support me. Mostly, it’s easy to get discouraged when encountering the ways pain has changed me, and resisting the limits it has placed on my life. Again, the choice is presented each day. Albert Einstein once prompted us to choose well: “There are two ways in which you can live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle, or as if everything is a miracle.” I can be grateful and work hard, or I can let pain filter my existence and illness the condition that defines me.  Will I choose to awaken to limitation, or to live unlimited? All I must do to maintain a sense of wonder is receive the mercies offered anew every morning.

 

Most days, with the difficulty of just putting one foot in front of another, it does seem simplest to quit: to stop trying so hard and just let it all take its natural course. If I make that choice, things quickly degenerate. My body can’t get enough of the drug of rest.  If I am to live in hope, I must cling to God’s promises. There is no experience wasted and no downward spiral that can separate us from the His love, even those that are self-generated. ALL is being worked for good. The good work that He began, He will complete. Author Roy Lessin affirms this so well, expounding on the reality of God’s Kingdom. It’s  a wonderful point:

“Everything in this world is moving in a downward direction-our bodies are a little older than they were yesterday; the parts in our cars have more wear than they had yesterday; even the earth is aging like a worn garment. In God’s kingdom, things are just the opposite for us. Everything moves in an upward direction-we go from faith to faith, from glory to glory, and from strength to strength. Our characters are being conformed to the image of Jesus, our spiritual lives mature, our love for the Lord deepens, and He becomes more precious with time. Today you can confidently say, ‘It is well with my soul…and it will be even better tomorrow.”

This is the hope of our journey in stepping Heavenward, in stepping up.

Grace…

Grace…what a beautiful word! Which one of hasn’t longed to find a way to redeem our mistakes, to have an encounter that would make us whole, to accept light and love for ourselves, and to extend this full life to others? Merriam-Webster defines grace as: unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification; a virtue coming from God; a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine assistance.” Sometimes it’s so hard to extend grace to others; mostly, it seems insurmountable to really accept it for ourselves. I think this is why the Apostle Paul said it over and over in his letters: “Grace and peace to you through Christ.” It takes many experiences to show us our need, many reminders it is ours for the taking, many encounters to truly transform. Although it’s freely offered, it wasn’t cheap, for it was purchased for us through the precious blood of Christ. It waits for us always, needs only be accepted, is relentless in its pursuit, and brings us true and lasting peace,. Ann Voskamp says it this way: “Grace is like the wind. It finds us as we are, but it does not leave us as we have been….ALL is grace.” All is grace.

 

If we can remain open enough to receive the unmerited favor that always awaits us, then perhaps our experiences will ultimately be woven into something beautiful? If we long to redo different steps in our journeys, then perhaps we’ve ventured out enough to risk mistakes, and to know the value of forgiveness? Grace involves acceptance of the beauty of what IS, but it also entails the willingness to risk. As André Gide once said, “One cannot see new lands, unless he is prepared to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.” To truly find the wind in our sails, we might indeed lose sight of the shore, but we can never escape the endless ocean of God’s gracious love.

“Maybe wholeness is not reaching for perfection in your life; maybe wholeness is embracing brokenness as part of your life….Maybe life always tastes a bit like regret. Whatever you do or don’t do, there is no way to never taste it. And though you may have to taste regret, you don’t have to believe in it, you don’t have to live in it, like rowing a boat that only goes backward, trying to find something that’s been washed out to sea. It’s god’s sea. And that means all is grace” (The Broken Way, Ann Voskamp).

A good friend…a fellow teacher and blogger, a beautiful woman and mom, in trysting with her pen, reflected:

Because I’m not

what i could be

or should be

i will remember

you need that

also from me

knowing i fail

at loving you

perfectly

and yet everything

is beautiful

as it is

Success Defined

Though I know I shouldn’t, I worry about success all the time. I’m an eldest child who grew up in a Legalistic church, so it’s really no surprise I became a task-oriented perfectionist.  In part, that’s well and good. It’s has to be fitting and right to desire to do things well, to find satisfaction in a job well-done, to cultivate the harvest of whatever realm we give ourselves. These kinds of desires have played out in the lives of influential people for all time. As cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead once said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”  And yet, at the same time, one can become quite driven, focused on outcome instead of process. As Ann Voskamp has said, “Perfectionism is a slow death by self.” It’s all too easy to spend ourselves on things that aren’t truly worthy of the cost of our lives, all too common to find ourselves with a need to please those around us. Too often, we become anchored unstably in our perceived notions of their expectations. Too often, we live under the impression we’re casting our cares away, but if we refuse to share their burdens with others in intentional ways, our cares have made us castaways to the people we love the most. No small wonder all my life, I’ve found myself craving Life I can’t generate on my own.
How should we measure success? Does a perfect God require perfection, and if not, exactly what does He expect of us? The prophet Micah answers this question quite simply and succinctly: “What does the Lord require of you, but to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Ralph Waldo Emerson also offered a great definition of what success looks like: “To laugh often & much, to win the respect of intelligent people & the affection of children, to know even ONE  life has breathed easier because you have lived, THIS is to succeed.” May we be fair to those we encounter, maintain a passion for compassion, and walk in authenticity and humility with God and one another. May we each help even one life to breath easier through the givenness and offering of our lives.