Season of Contentment

God is the creator of the universe, the ultimate wellspring of creativity, and I believe he bestows on people all the ideas for beauty and change in the world.  He plants these little seeds in the minds of many people, knowing that someone somewhere will choose to act upon that little nudge that really is God's voice inside his head . Although this blog is a tiny thing I write primarily for my own benefit, for me, it is a response to that little nudge. Somewhere, a long time ago, I loved to write—stories, poems, short plays---and read, too, anything I could get my hands on. I devoted whole days to writing and reading, and I never wanted to stop.  But somewhere along the way, LIFE got in the way, and the excruciating minutia of everyday living sucked the life right out of me. I got married, got a job, got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant. Now, fifteen years and four kids later, there is time for little else but cooking, cleaning, washing, and serving. The ME person has begun to wither, as the little mini-MEs have begun to thrive. It is a beautiful time and a dark time. I think sometimes about that person that once was me and wonder where she went. Although it may be true that “Practice makes perfect,” sometimes I feel that I am JUST TRYING TO KEEP UP. There’s no time for practicing. This idea of practicing to make perfect has begun to haunt me. If I COULD practice, what would it be that I would be working on? What could be my thing? And wasn’t a little bit of practice better than no practice at all? And so here I am.  Writing a blog to myself.

We live in a very large neighborhood, and so to get from place to place I often drive our three-seater golf cart, (known affectionately by our friends as a "people transporter"). Today, as I was shuttling kids around the neighborhood during an afternoon ride, I ran into a new friend. She is starting her own business, partnering with two local businesses to do what she loves and what is clearly her gift during this season of economic instability. I felt energized after our conversation. Here lives a very talented and gifted person, with a husband and three kids, affluent, and who clearly doesn’t HAVE to go back to work. For her, this new opportunity is not work. Instead, it is an outlet for her God-given creative genius. She can’t NOT do this. The creativity is bubbling over. It’s eeking out of her pores. Her season is sprouting, and in the process those dormant buds that had been there all along are finally being tended and watered. Guess what? She’s blooming. Yes, she’s blooming where she’s planted!

Another friend in another town, equally as talented, equally as gifted, also has three kids. She’s frustrated by the incompleteness of her children’s public school education. She’s one of the most innovative and creative people that I know.  She’s the kind of person who throws theme birthday parties that are beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.  She dreams of bringing people together—through book clubs, wine tastings, vacations, etc.  She sees the potential in people and capitalizes on their strengths, encourages them in their weaknesses, and in the process emerges herself as an inspirational leader of a rag tag group of women.   Her frustration with the public education system has caused her to design a new, more innovative system that partners with parents in ways most people never even thought possible.

I have another dear friend who would love to have four kids, but instead, after a very difficult and dark season of infertility, embraces only one natural born child. Longing for what could be, she has not allowed herself to wallow in what may never be. Instead, she immersed herself in this season doing what she loves most—tirelessly working to bring God's love and provision to a remote village in Uganda, Africa. Here she is in an uncomfortable season, but with the resources and time to do the very thing that makes her feel most alive, she multiplies the investment of God's creativity in her.  Meanwhile, she has been working to bring an adopted daughter home from Ethiopia.  Trials and setbacks only made her praise God more fervently, allowed him to work in her more completely, and just yesterday she claimed her little girl as her own.

These are the people that inspire me. For now, though I write of a “season of contentment”, content is not something I feel every day. In fact, in the midst of the chaotic rough and tumble household that I call “home”,  I sometimes feel the very OPPOSITE of content. Contentment is something I have to CHOOSE.   It is a conscientious choice that I make every single morning. Rising before the sun rises, never stopping until the last child is tucked safely in her bed and the dishes are washed, the clothes are folded, the family room is straightened, and the next day’s lunches are packed, I have to choose to be OK with life’s messiness. I know that one day I will miss the dusty footprints and greasy fingerprints.  I pray the imprint they leave on my soul, though, will last a lifetime. If a little bit of me must die so that each of them can thrive, I will do it.   I CHOOSE contentment.  The reward is eternal.

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.

A Lizard on a Rock

Our dog was snoozing on top of a cozy blanket that was draped across the sofa.  Cari Jill looked at me and said, "Why does Hammy sleep there?"  I explained to her that all living creatures like sleeping in a soft spot.  "For example", I said, "Would you rather sleep on a hard rock or on a soft pillow"?  She thought for a second, then said, "Well, lizards like rocks."

That was true.

Lizards do like rocks.  They are hard and often jagged, either hot or cold depending on the season, sometimes dirty, and I would argue, definitely UNCOMFORTABLE.

What a perceptive little three year old!  The simple phrase--"lizards like rocks"--shows that this small child already recognizes that everyone and everything isn't exactly like her.  Just because she would rather lay her head on a pillow and the family dog prefers to sleep cuddled up next to a soft blanket doesn't mean that lizards do.

I think it's interesting that a three year old could articulate that she likes pillows and lizards like rocks, but a middle school age child thinks that if she likes pillows, then everyone else should, too.  At what point do we stop thinking of ourselves alone and instead shift our focus to the rest of humankind?

 I was thinking about that today as I was watching my boys at football practice.  Another mom was standing nearby, and I felt compelled to go and speak and with her.  She has three kids, the same ages as my three older ones.  She is a single, divorced mother who works full-time.  Her life is crazy and painful, and I'm guessing quite difficult to navigate alone.  I have a husband who loves me and who makes sure that he is home every night at dinnertime.  He engages wholeheartedly with all our kids, and without a doubt, I would be lost without him.  He is my pillow, my comforter, my companion through all life's trials and triumphs.  Still, I often say that motherhood is hard.  But this other mother--wow-- I wonder if sometimes she feels like she is sleeping on a rock?

I remembered our friend the lizard.  I assumed he likes sleeping there, but the reality is probably that he HAS to sleep there, for on the rock, even though it is hard and lumpy and jagged, it provides warmth on a sunny day and camouflage in the face of danger.  He is alone, but he is where he has to be.  I commend this mother.  Her life is not easy.  She would not choose the rock over the pillow, but survival merits its own hardships.  Her rock is her badge of honor.

With God's grace, she can proclaim the words of the Psalmist, "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire, he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand" (40:2).

Tonight, our conversation was light and superficial, but underneath our shared experience, I sensed a deep sense of longing.  After a long day at work, a trying afternoon trudging through homework, and an endless evening of football practice, I heard her wishing for reprieve, perhaps a pillow in which to lay her weary head.   I pray that one day she will be able to say, "The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.  He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold" (18:2).  The rock isn't a bad place; it's precisely the place where she will experience Jesus' redeeming love.