Scrap-happy (Not)!

When I was a little girl, I came across an old metal file cabinet in the recesses of our garage.  Upon opening it, I found that it was indeed full of files.  The rows of folders were labeled chronologically simply, "1974," "1975," "1976," and so on, and the files themselves were filled with the family photographs that corresponded to that particular year.  No one could accuse my parents of not being organized.

I'm sentimental, though, and I longed for the heavy book filled with photos donning fun captions, such as "Chantel's First Tooth" or "Look Who Caught A Fish!".  I envied my friends' frayed and faded books filled with photos, newspaper clippings, and letters.  Instead, I clutched the manila folder from "1974." It would have to do.

On the heels of having my first child, I vowed that things would be different in my family.  Like any proud mama, I took tons of pictures.  I printed them out and carefully labeled each and every one.  Then I discovered an "easy," new scrapbooking method called Creative Memories.   

For me, Creative Memories was anything but easy.  I went to evening parties where I sat hunched over a table piled high with idea books outlining elaborate layouts and and cut and glued to my heart's content.  The only thing was that my heart wasn't actually content.  I envied the spectacular books the other moms created.  And I lamented my own sorry excuse of a keepsake.  I never could cut in a straight line!  Yet, at the end of that first year, I did have a book, and if nothing else I can say, "I did it!"

But here's the thing, scrapbooking just isn't my thing.  I could have kept up the ruse.  I could have faked my way through three more books (since I did have three more children).  But I just wasn't any good at it.  I didn't love it.  God didn't make me crafty that way.  Seeing the lovely books that other mothers created for their children, I mistakenly thought that I was supposed to make books like that, too.  And after all, as I child, hadn't I always wanted a scrapbook of my very own?  Wouldn't my daughter want one, too?

Not necessarily.  What she probably wants more is a mother who is fully present, one who is using her God-ordained gifts to enrich the lives of her family and friends.  Becoming a mommy didn't make me different.  I wasn't saying goodbye to one thing simply so I could embrace something new.  I didn't need to come up with new ways to prove myself just because I had a new day job.  No.  Now I understand that the gifts I've always had have stayed with me.  It's just that God gives me new ways to use them.  In children, they call this "divergent thinking"--understanding what is and imagining the possibilities of what could be.  Problem solving and creativity are the inherent result of divergent thinking.

I loved the "Scrap-Happy Girls;"  I just wasn't one of them.  So, although I imagined the possibilities of what could be, I was clueless when it came to understanding what actually was.   I wish I had learned that lesson before I attempted three more books.  I'll probably never be able to cut in a straight line! 

Sometimes, I still have trouble embracing who I am.  Successful divergent thinking is only possible when the two parts work together.  When I find myself frustrated over not being able to complete a project, I often need to ask myself:  Is this who God created me to be?  If the answer is "no," then it's time to take a second look at my motives.  Why am I doing this thing?  Who am I trying to impress?  Where should I re-direct my attention?

I may not ever be able to piece together a decent scrapbook.  And that's OK.  Instead of a metal file cabinet, I have a few folders filled with pictures on my computer labeled "1999", "2000", "2001", etc.  It's a lovely thing.

Follow Your Heart

Follow your heart.  You're more likely to succeed at something you love. 

I saw these words in my son's agenda today.  Personally, they have always left a bad taste in my mouth.  I associate "following your heart" with the final episodes of The Bachelor, when, torn between two lovers, the knight in shining armor must follow his heart and choose the girl with whom he'll spend the rest of his life.

In theory.

That's the problem with following your heart.  The heart cannot be trusted.  Rarely, do one of these matches result in a lifetime of unconditional love.  Usually, the exact opposite of a happy ending is what ensues.  This fairytale is a tragedy, and when the two join for the "After the Final Rose" episode, I'm reminded that Jeremiah 17:9 states, "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.  Who can understand it?"  Why is anyone surprised when the one who followed his heart allowed it to lead him straight into the arms of the devil herself?  

Yet, in this context of success vs. failure in my son's agenda, I came to an epiphany regarding the true meaning of the phrase.  Certainly, it makes sense that a person is more likely to succeed at something she loves rather than something she doesn't.

I only wish someone had given me this advice in the fourth grade.  Because I was an over-achiever, I mistakenly assumed that if something wasn't challenging, it wasn't worth doing.  And because the things I loved came relatively easy, I often neglected them in order to perfect talents that God never intended for me.  I became frustrated and dejected when, after putting forth my best effort, I still wasn't good enough.

Encouraged by a high school teacher, I majored in Literature in college.  For a semester.  Overflowing with confidence and a misguided sense of what my future might hold, I listened to my deceitful heart and heard the familiar rhythm of a short-sighted perversion of reality.  I changed my major to Biology and never looked back.

Until now.

Now, it is becoming clear to me that God never meant for me to pursue science.  Over and over again, the struggles I faced I attributed to a challenging field.  What if, instead, I had listened to my heart?  Really listened to it?  Looked inside and found there the wellspring of what God had planted?  How beautiful the harvest might have been! 

Two verses come to mind here.  The first, Proverbs 27:19,  (As water reflects a face, so a man's heart reflects the man), has profound implications when its truth is applied.  What is in my heart?  Is it God's word or the message of the world?    If it's God's word, then my prayer is that everyone I know would heed the message found in James 1:23:  "Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.  But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it--he will be blessed in what he does."

Rejection of the reflection leads to compunction.  Dissatisfaction.  Disappointment.  Regret.

As the girls from my small group graduate high school this year and head off to college, it is my prayer that they will "follow their hearts".  While they are young, I pray that they will hold on to what they love, ask God to use it in their lives to further his kingdom, and encourage them as their gifts get used and multiplied.  

Any blessings that come to me flow from the outpouring of God's love and grace on me.  He is the ultimate source of an unlimited supply of gifts.  The good news is that even though I failed to embrace the commission of my youth, God continues to provide.  It's not too late to discover what God has in store for me.  It's never too late.   As long as I am living and God's spirit lives in me, God can use me to carry his message of grace.  I hear him whispering, "Chantel, discover the gift that I gave uniquely to you.  Find it.  Use it."  If I succeed, God gets the credit, but if I fail, it is because I didn't look for the words impressed on my heart since childhood, words I can trust if only I don't forget them.

Proverbs 4:23 says,  "Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life" (emphasis mine).  Where God lives, anything is possible.