Changing my perceptions

Perception determines our feelings which leads to our actions.

Recently this idea was presented to me.  We feel based on how we perceive something. Then we tend to act or react based on how we feel.  I have been pondering this ever since.  I have been writing down perceptions or "truths" that I have adopted.  Even as I write them, I know many are false but none the less they are perceptions that I function by.  I am beginning to see the feelings that they result in and the actions that I take in an effort to control feelings based on whether I like them or not.  I have been challenged to and trust that I will continue to look at my perceptions in light of truth.

One of the perceptions that I have (and know is false) is the idea that "Life should be fair. Burdens/grief/difficulties should be distributed proportionally."  Like I said, I learned at an early age that "Life is not fair," but it doesn't mean that I still don't think it should be.  If I am experiencing a heavy load, I tend to feel cheated.  If it is another person, I feel guilt and grief.  And because of other perceptions I have, this often leads me to feel I need to do something about it.  I know it is kind of twisted.  I know it is not truth, but none the less it is how I have been functioning for a long time.  

This particular thought has been in the forefront recently. Peter has experienced more suffering and difficulties than it seems that one kid should have.  And now he has been removed from his school that is familiar and put in a new unknown and very different environment.  In my perception, it does not seem fair.  Please do not hear me wrong.  I know without doubt that Peter is where he needs to be.  None the less because of my "fairness" issues, I tend to feel great grief and at times guilt for what he is experiencing.  I am not saying this is right, just saying that it is what I feel.  My brother who has suffered much physically in his life seems to also have had more than his fair share of difficulties.  He has just about regained his independence following his broken hip in April.  However this Tuesday he will undergo major surgery due to a new medical condition that has been discovered. How this effects my parents, also does not seem fair. This conflicts with my false perception that life should be fair.  What  often tends to surface is a mix of  frustrating emotions and actions

I look at my own situation and confess that it does not fit my perception of challenges being distributed evenly.  Currently I am adjusting to the empty nest, concerned for my family regarding  Larry's upcoming surgery and recovery, and facing job challenges and changes with both my preschool job and my second job. I also need to make some decisions about schooling in order to keep my certification to teach preschool.  It is not necessarily "bad stuff" but it is a lot of changes happening at once.  I find based on my perception, that I can feel resentful that I am dealing with challenges in so many areas of life.  

So what is the truth.  The truth is that there is nothing in the bible about life being fair. Really there is absolutely nothing fair about Christ who was without sin dying on the cross for my sin.  There is a lot of scripture that supports the idea that God is faithful and he will carry us when we are weak.  Scripture also speaks the truth that suffering is something that God uses to do his mighty work. (Hebrews 2:10) God works things that I consider to not be fair for the good of those who chose to trust him. (Romans  8:28)  My desire is to take this head knowledge and make it the truth by which I truly believe and perceive the world around me. 

Exhaling

Did you hear it?  Did you hear that big release of air?  I have been holding my breath for months now. The past few weeks it has been intense.  I was beginning to feel giddy with anticipation of letting it out.  And growing faint from the lack of oxygen to my brain.  And then today, I took Peter to begin Riverside Military Academy and I was able to release my breath. And I am exhausted!

Peter held fast to claims of not going right up to yesterday.  He even went to practice with his former high school today.  However there was a point yesterday when the mantra stopped.  He wasn't happy but he seemed resigned to what would happen.  It began with a visit to the dentist.  We returned to the dentist he saw 5 years ago, a Nigerian woman. (She sent him to children's dentistry and they recently "released" him) Dr. Deborah didn't talk to either one of us about the state of his teeth but she was obviously concerned about the state of his heart and attitude.  She sent me out at one point to have a heart to heart with him. When he went to the car she hugged me and said she wanted to see him in six months so she could check on him.  I said "check his teeth? And her response was basically "well and that too."  She is genuinely concerned about Peter.  I had been asking God to send someone to speak to Peter encouraging him about this opportunity. I never guessed it would be the dentist we had not seen in five years.   Next we made a visit to Riverside Military Academy. When he didn't go in to the admissions office with me, the admissions officer went out to him and invited him to get out of the car and see the school. Peter agreed.  During that visit Peter met coaches and other staff that challenged and encouraged him.  I will never say that Peter agreed or wanted to go to RMA.  But I can gratefully say that he got in and out of the car today of his own accord. 

My emotions have been mixed today with relief, elation, empathy and twinges of guilt. (I moved schools between 8th and 9th grade. We moved states away in fact and I remember it was gut wrenching. I know this has to be hard for Peter.) Now that I have exhaled on getting him there I find there is a bit of me wanting to hold my breath for what happens next. Will I get a call to come get him?  Will I know the right balance for participation and giving space? (We live two miles away.  I told Peter I could jog down in the morning to check on him.  He told me no. ) Although I know better I am already thinking about where the money will come from for next year. In spite of the mix of emotions, I can honestly say that I have seen the hand of God pull this off.  I feel confident that this is the place Peter needs for now to receive training for growth into a man. I am confident God has done this and will continue to "do" this. Thank you for caring about, praying for and contributing to the cause.  Your love and support has meant more than you will know.

One week out

One week from today, residential football camp begins at Riverside Military School. (This is directly followed by the beginning of the school year for Peter.)  I have papers to fill out and turn in ASAP to complete Peter's registration.  I hate filling out papers.  Oh yeah and Peter keeps telling me he is NOT going to Riverside.

And I thought getting the money was the biggest challenge!

Faithful God

As I have been thinking about it, I am not sure that I really doubt God's faithfulness as much as I fear what I will be responsible for when God proves faithful.  I have watched God take us through the Military School journey from initial thoughts of application right up to my confirming visit at the open house. God has been faithful thus far yet I have not been acting confident.  I keep acting like I cant say "Peter is going to Riverside," because I don't know how it will get paid for.  But I have realized that in truth I don't want to say "Peter is going to Riverside" because that means lots of scary other things.  Things I fear are a new community for Peter and me, my guilt over his attending another new school, and well my having to confront Peter with, "You will be going to Riverside Military Academy this fall." (Thus far he has only known it as a possibility, one that he has not believed would happen.)

God has proven faithful.  Through the generous offerings of friends and family, I am pretty certain there is the needed money for Peter to attend Riverside for the 2013-14 school year.  I am in awe, extremely grateful, pretty excited and shaking in my boots (cute orange rubber garden boots that I found on clearance at Target!).  The next steps involve telling Peter, filling out necessary papers, and making preparations for his going two weeks from today. Things I am praying for include: Peter's acceptance of the news without destructive drama; Peter will willingly attend and be encouraged by visiting the school's Open House on Friday; His agreeing to play football with the less glamorous Riverside football team (He has spent the summer training with the current GA state championship high school football team); His cooperation as preparations are made; A good roommate, honorable friends and godly mentor(s); My completing all necessary paperwork and payments in a timely manner; Peace and confidence will overshadow any of my feelings of guilt.  That I will trust that God loves Peter more than I do and he will continue to provide what Peter needs as he has faithfully done thus far.

"The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well -watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." Isaiah 58:11

Sweet Memories

So I received a text from my dear friend Christine. Christine was my first housemate when I went to Uganda. Her text read "I am craving those rock hard cookies from the Italian butcher in Uganda??"  Having 15 minutes, I immediately called and said, "which rock hard cookies exactly?"  She provided a few explanations and when she said "they were shaped like ducks," I knew immediately what she was referring too.  I  said "oh yeah, I loved those cookies."  Her response was "you didn't at first."  And I am pretty sure she was right. Truthfully a lot of my first year in Uganda was a blur but I do remember that there were few things that I really "loved" about my new home.  But as I recall my latter years in Uganda, I remember buying many a package of those rock hard duck, horse, and crescent shaped cookies because I really did like them.

We remained on the phone for about 15 minutes and most of that time was spent talking about the food we enjoyed and missed from Uganda.  During my early years in Uganda, Christine and I frequently ate out together.  We had access to very good food and at what was for us as Americans, very reasonable prices. We talked about the ice cream from the Belgium Butchery.  (Yes the Butcheries were SO much more than meat.)  The Belgium butchery's adjoining restaurant, Le Chateau made this fabulous Tilapia in a cream sauce as well as potato croquettes. Christine and I would go in and without even looking at the menu ask for it.  It would be brought to us and we would totally enjoy our fish and potatoes.  It was a shock when we realized that the beloved dish had not been on the menu for many months.  Yet whenever we requested it "Dirk"  the chef would make it for us.  One of my most beloved birthday presents is when Christine asked Dirk to share the recipe for Tilapia Le Chateau with me. She presented me with a hand scrawled recipe, sign by Dirk. It has an honored spot in my recipe file!  (No I haven't made it but after my phone conversation with Christine I am thinking I definitely should sometime soon!)

Christine and I talked about the fabulous affordable Indian cuisine that we had access to as well as favorite Ugandan and Kenyan dishes.  We laughed and I felt light when I got off the phone.  All that  from the memory of some food.  Kind of funny.  But it was more than food. It is sweet memories from a time that didn't always feel so sweet.  It is about sharing enjoyable experiences with a dear friend.  Experiences that overshadow the hard times.  It is about having someone remember and understand what few others can.  I got off the phone being really grateful.  Grateful for Christine. Grateful for the opportunity to experience great and varied cuisines. Grateful for delights during a difficult transition. Grateful for my memories.  And grateful that the sweet memories are stronger than the bitter ones.

What takes more faith?

Faith is a funny thing.  What can require faith for one person may be just the opposite for another.  It is very personal.  And often it looks as if it takes faith to go either direction when a choice presents itself.  So which one requires more faith?

I have been asking God for the means to send Peter to Riverside Military School.  I have decided to believe he will and presently act as if it is so.  I have told God I am open to how he wants to do it - gifts, scholarship, sweepstakes winnings, or even a new job.  I have made the need known, entered sweepstakes and kept my ears open to job opportunities. I recently learned of a job opening.  A new career  in a totally unrelated field. There were so many perks that provided "security" that I thought this just might be God's answer.  I would go back and forth though as I considered if I could really do the work and adjust to a new schedule. I kept trying to look at 'applying for the job' or 'letting it pass' in terms of "acting in faith."  On the surface it looked like it would take more faith to pursue a job I felt extremely challenged by.  But I realized that perhaps it took just as much faith to pass it by trusting that God would provide in another way.  

I think truthfully that for pride's sake, I want to be the one that works to earn this education for Peter. It is hard to accept help from others.  It hurts my pride.  Deep down there is the part of me that feels like I have to be the one to make the sacrifice for this.  I feel responsible and believe that somehow I am going to have to "do something" maybe even "suffer and sacrifice" to make this happen. So in the end I realized it takes more faith to pass this job by than to pursue it. I was pursuing it out of fear.  Fear that this must be God's provision and if I didn't chase after it, I would miss it.  This job was not simply a challenge, it was totally out of my gifting and interest. I realized that it was just not a good fit for me or the employer therefore I chose not to pursue it.  

It's not the first time I have been in this place of "faith is waiting."  I do believe that God who started this journey will provide what is needed.  I still can't figure out the "how in the world!" This isn't the first time I have been in this place though. There have been other times when I have tried to figure out how I could make something happen when God (without my help) did more than I could have ever imagined.

Four Firemen and a Kitty

Did you know that fireman do not rescue kittens out of trees anymore?  But if you drive up to their station and ask nicely, they might just help you get one out from the underbelly of your car.

So Saturday afternoon I am driving home from a friend's house.  While sitting at a red light I heard a cat meowing. I turn off the audio book I was listening to, to see if it was part of the story. It didn't make sense that it would be.  I didn't hear it so I resumed with the story as I traveled home.  Wanting to continue with my audio book I stayed in the car cleaning out coupons and trash. That's when I heard it again, meows of a cat. I looked around in my bushes for my outdoor cat,  Adidas or his friends who share his cat dish.  I saw nothing.  It was weird. I wondered if I was hearing things.  The next morning while in the kitchen I heard meowing outside.  I figured it was Adidas wanting breakfast and went to put food out for him.  There was no Adidas or any other cat for that matter.  Strange.  So off I went to take Peter to catch the bus for football camp, to church, to the store, to my friends at one end of town and back across to the other side of town to visit my parents.   About 8:30 PM mom and I were sitting at her dining room table talking.  I was telling  her about the cat voices and my fear that I was developing some mental disorder.  That's when I heard it, the meowing of a cat.  I said mom, "Listen, I hear meowing, there must be a cat in my car somewhere."  At first she gave me the "really?" look then she too heard it.  We headed out to my car and started looking around the tires.  I thought I saw a shadow move so mom went for a flashlight.  I opened the hood and began shining the light into the engine.  A few minutes later I saw it, two eyes in a gray furry face staring up at me. There was a kitten in the underbelly of my car just below the engine. 

I was relieved that I was not hearing things , but what was I to do?  The poor thing had obviously been in there since at least the afternoon before.  I was to have an oil change the next day but I couldn't drive around knowing he was in there.  I thought about how I had always heard of firemen rescuing cats from trees and thought maybe they could rescue a kitten from the engine of a car.  It was finally decided that mom and I would drive my car to the nearest fire station.  My mom cringed with empathy for the little thing every time I turned a corner. Upon reaching the fire station, it was closed up and I could not find anyone to talk to.  So there I was in the fire station parking lot dialing 911. When asked where I was, I said , "In my car at the fire station parking lot."  After quickly relaying my need the dispatcher contacted the men inside.  Shortly one by one, four fire fighters came out to figure out how to get the kitten out.  During our conversation, I learned that they do not rescue cats out of trees anymore.  None the less, these men crowded around my car engine discussing how to get the little fellow out.  I sat on the curb laughing at the scene.  One fire fighter had his fire coat on so that he could get in closer to the hot engine.  Another went for a jack in case they needed to lift up the car. One retrieved a golf club from a truck in hopes of nudging the little fella out.  It was actually that which resulted in the grey fur ball darting out from my car over to a nearby pickup truck where it quickly climbed up into its back tire chassis.  Next thing I knew two firemen were working to get him out from there. Soon one produced this itty bitty gray kitten.  Discussion during the rescue resulted in one of the men saying he would take the kitten. 

I thanked them for their help.  One of them smiled and said, "just don't tell anybody."  I get that they don't want to be known as the cat rescue squad.  But really, could I not tell my story?  It was definitely an unusual Sunday evening.  Mom and I laughed all the way back to her house and laughed as we relayed the story to my dad and brother.  I am so grateful that the little kitten survived it's 24 plus hour imprisonment under my car.  I am grateful for the firefighters who so graciously aided us.  I am grateful for the firefighter who was going to see that it received a home.  And I am REALLY grateful that I am not hearing things that are not there!