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. 

Iron Sharpens Iron

As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another (Proverbs 27:17).

Today, I am thankful for good friends.  They are hard to find, but precious to keep.  Over the years, I have enjoyed the company of beautiful people that have filtered in and out of my life.  In college, especially, I forged the friendships that would last a lifetime.  Seeing the bright future on the horizon ahead of us, we pursued a common goal, and the angst and intensity of that pivotal time helped establish a bond that could not be severed.  In the years since, I have found myself disappointed with the transient relationships that characterize adulthood--moves, children, (lack of children!), and jobs have all served to invite people to join me in my journey only to disappear and make space for someone else.

Not anymore.

I love the friendships that are forever, but I also love the ones that are for a season.  In these, wonderful wise people have spoken into my life.  They leaned in my direction, and I found in them a comfort characterized not necessarily by our parallel lives but by our mutual desire to sharpen and inspire one another.  Change is inevitable; now, I welcome it, for it is only through change that we grow.  I can't hang on to people any more than I can hang onto a rope dangling from a cloud.  As our hopes and dreams evolve, so do our relationships.  Finding the strength to launch our friends in pursuit of what they love takes courage.  Fear of loneliness and rejection could paralyze us... or it could serve to propel us toward a greater goal. 

In 7th grade, I lamented the friends I left behind in elementary school, but this first step, out there on my own, discovering my true identity as the people around me jockeyed for position and clout in an arena that mattered not, I forged ahead, making connections with the people that would make me not necessarily popular, but better.  In college, again, I  entered a foreign arena that was teeming with interesting people.  Relationships were formed quickly and strongly.  Late nights up studying together, coupled with the shared pressure of our unknown future, made for friendships that would test the bonds of time.

Time. 

In a moment, our lives can take a different path than the one we planned.  Before we know it, weeks have passed, then months, and suddenly entire years will be lived only in the shadows of our memory.  Events that seemed important are often only so because of the relationships we have attached to them.  May those relationships serve to sharpen and strengthen me.  May the people that I have invited into my life to share it with me be such that whether they are a forever friend or a fleeting friend, I count them as treasure.  Unlike books or school or money or health, only another man can inspire greatness.  He may use those other things as tools, but it is the fortitude of the soul that manifests itself in our interaction with others that makes us better. 

Empathy and encouragement and inspiration and intellect are evident in the words of the writer of Proverbs when he said, " He who walks with the wise grows wise, but a companion of fools suffers harm" (13:20).  Choose your friends carefully.  Whether they walk beside you for a spell or carry you through a lifetime, the person you become will largely be because of them.

It's Not That Hard

Baloney.

No-- BALOGNA.

Mr. Bojangles restaurants are advertising a new bologna biscuit.  When I saw the sign, I almost gagged.  Who was the genius who came up with that one?  And thus my point is proved--it's not that hard.  A nice fluffy biscuit, a slimy slice of circular piece-meat.  Splice the two together, and voila!  Who wouldn't love that? 

I've been using that phrase for  years now.  People look at me funny whenever I say it, but the reality is that if YOU know how to do something, then for you it's truly not that hard.  I have a friend who writes books for other people.  She listens to their stories and then writes the books, not in her own voice, but theirs.  Wow!  I stand amazed, but for her, it's not that hard.

I have another friend who lights up every room she enters.  She knows how to connect with people she's never even met.  She enjoys fascinating conversation wherever she goes.  It's a gift, and for her, it's not that hard.

I don't profess that everything is easy.  Surely it's not!  I only marvel at how a national company like Bojangles can inspire people to ingest something that barely passes as food and even fool them into thinking they are in fact eating a new and improved gourmet treat.  Trust me, you cannot improve on the Chick-fil-A chicken biscuit.  But somebody somewhere presented this idea.  And somebody sitting across the table from them said, "Yeah, that might work."  And somebody else bought an entire log of wax-wrapped bologna, peeled it slice by slice, and said, "OK, we're doing this."  Who would have thought?  Now, if I may suggest...A single slice of processed cheese?  It has a wrapper.  I'm not sure if it's actually food, but yes, that might work, too.  A bologna and CHEESE biscuit!

See?  It's not that hard.

Protector of the House

We have a dog.

I used to say, "I'm not a dog person."  In fact, I've had a cat (or two) all my life and as far back as I can remember.  However, I would never say, "I'm a cat person."  That just sounds creepy.  But secretly, I love cats.  I love that they are soft and clean themselves and are for the most part, independent.  It is what I wish for my children.  And my husband.  My husband isn't even a "pet person", which I think is a tragedy in itself.  He never so much as even had a gerbil or a fish...or for that matter, even a turtle.  I think every child should have a pet, lest they start collecting rocks and talking to them as if they understand.  That's how people become crazy and end up in asylums.  All because they never had a little pet that they could love and that would love them back.

After losing two cats at this address in less than two years, I began to re-think having a cat.  In this neighborhood, I might as well be a murderer or at least a conspirator to murder, what with the way cats mysteriously disappear and all.  Hungry coyotes view them as a snack pack in the purest sense of the phrase.

Last April, my daughter was taking a walk down our street with a friend from out of town.  They came home with a dog.

I saw that dog, a handsome little thing, all neatly groomed and happy.  The kids immediately all wanted to take turns holding him, and he just let them.  They were all in his face being completely obnoxious, and he just licked them.  We kept him around all that day.  He didn't beg at the table, was obviously leash trained, and clearly had once belonged to someone.  I sent my daughter back down the street to find out where this dog lived.  Another neighbor told us what he witnessed:  a blond haired woman in a white SUV tossed him out the passenger door in the cul-de-sac the night before.  What?  Who would do such a thing?

I guess it doesn't really matter.  What matters is that my sweet, tender-hearted daughter saw a dog, picked him up, and brought him home with every intent to keep and care for him.  Did I mention that I am not a dog person?

Three weeks prior to this event I had a dream, a dream so vivid and disturbing that I ventured to write it down in my journal.  In the dream, I was pregnant and gave birth to a baby boy.  (As a side note, I feel like our family is complete,  and I have no plans to become pregnant, nor can I, as things have been "taken care of" in that area.)  In the dream, I named my little boy, "Hammond".  Where did this name come from?  I know of no one who goes by this name, and yet this dream was very real.

The next morning, I typed "Hammond name meaning" into Google on my computer.  It means "Protector of the House."  Interesting, I thought.  Surely, I dreamed this dream for a reason.  And sure enough, three weeks later, here comes this little dog.  And aren't dogs the "protectors of the house?"

We call him Hammy; he's a five-pound Yorkshire Terrier.  He's the "cat" of the dog world.

Coincidence.  Or God's gift to us?  I'm choosing to thank God for this precious gift because every child should have a pet to care for and love, even if he is a little stinky.

Readers are Learners

My favorite genre of literature is Historical Fiction, followed closely by Memoirs.  I'm not even sure that's a real genre, but incidentally this type of book can also be classified as... "historical fiction." I love it.   I love being transported into that place that seems so far away and different from the place I live, only to discover that in fact it is very much the same.  I love the first realization, the first epiphany, the first "aha", yes, these people who lived so very long ago are just like me.  I love to highlight interesting passages and thought-provoking phrases.  I'm savoring the words and the wisdom.

I just finished reading Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, the epic tale of life and death in early nineteenth century France.  The political and religious commentary and essays on free education and love and marriage kept me riveted to the page--actually all 1201 pages of it.  I loved each and every one.  Some of the lines I highlighted in the beginning of my book:

"...there are plenty of tongues that gossip and few minds that think."  p. 20
"...there is always more misery in the depths than compassion in the heights."  p.25
"Teach the ignorant as much as you can.  Society is to blame for not giving free education; it is responsible for the darkness it creates.  The soul in darkness sins, but the real sinner is he who caused the darkness."  p.30
"The beautiful is as useful as the useful.  More so, perhaps."  p.38
"I was not put into this world to preserve my life but to protect souls."  p. 41
"And after all, in this house what have we to fear?  There is always Someone with us who is stronger.  The devil may visit us, but God lives here.  p. 47
"...there are no trifles in the human story....It is the lineaments of the years which form the countenance of the century."  p. 123

All this and I had only just barely scratched the surface.  It's one of the reasons why I have never understood the person who says, "I am just not a reader."  Not a reader?  And, my goodness, why NOT?  Haven't you ever heard the phrase, "Readers are learners and learners are leaders"?  Surely there must always be people who are willing to lead and by default, people who are willing to follow.  I just always thought that even a follower should only do so if they trust that the person who is leading is doing a fine job with the situation at hand.  They must believe wholeheartedly that the person leads with both knowledge and conviction.  In order to have this guarantee, you MUST do some work on your own.  You must be willing to learn, to take information and integrate it into what you know, then assimilate it into the framework of your life. 

Our lives are but a breath, and yet in the inhale and exhale of our human story there are no small moments.  In the pages that make up our lives, I want mine to be filled with wisdom and intellect and relationships and love.  I want to remain riveted to that fine page, basking in the warmth of the words that are my day, looking forward to the next, since I know it is building towards an amazing climax.  I will relish the time it takes to get there, never skipping ahead.  And I will continue to read.  I will continue to learn.  I will continue to lead.

My Mother's Prayers

Never underestimate the power of a prayer.  I've been praying since I was old enough to talk.  I've always loved words, and I love literature especially.  I find great power in the words that I read.  Nuances, cadence, and intonation all serve to convey emotion in a story.  They are part of the story, the words but the part that isn't really words as well.  I understand this when I'm reading a book, and yet when I'm talking to God or even THINKING about talking to God, I sometimes don't do it because I don't have the words.  Thankfully, God knows our hearts.  He knows our anxious thoughts, and I don't have to think, write, or say a single word for him to perceive exactly what I need or want.

In recent weeks, this idea has become very clear to me.  Over my lifetime, I feel like I've "barely prayed" if that makes any sense, and yet God has answered my prayers in  VERY REAL ways.  In high school, I prayed that God would give me a husband that loved God more than he loved me.  And he did.  After I married, I prayed that God would one day give me a daughter.  And he gave me two.  I prayed that as a family we would be able to both hear and heed God's direction for our lives.  And he brought us to Canton, Georgia.  Most of my life, I've barely prayed and yet God has heard me and answered me. 

My children are just now learning to pray.  When they hear me talk to God, they hear me asking him to help them grow into people that love Him and love others.  Those two things are really all I ever hope for them.  Reading a biography of Abraham Lincoln recently, I became intrigued by his religious views.  Although he clearly believed in God Almighty, he did not affiliate with any particular American denomination or church.  This is what he said:  "When any church will inscribe over its altar, as its sole qualification for membership, the Savior's condensed statement of the substance of both law and Gospel, 'Thou shalt love the lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul and thy neighbor as thyself' that church will I join with all my heart and all my soul."  Yes, that is what I hope for my children as well!

Lincoln also penned these words:  "I remember my mother's prayers, and they have always followed me.  They have clung to me all my life."  I love the imagery of the prayers following him, on his heels, literally clinging to him all his life.  Even if he wanted to, he could not fling them away.  They were a part of him because God heard his mother's prayer.  He answered her by giving little Abraham Lincoln a heart wholly devoted to God and others.  At a very pivotal and divisive time in our country's history, there stood a man whose mother's prayers enabled him to lead a nation on the brink of destroying itself and knit it back together.   I stand inspired by his testimony.  If God can answer me when I "barely pray", I wonder what he will do when I pray with such sticky conviction that my words endure the generations.