Looking Back

Since I live east of the big city, I'm blessed daily not to find myself squinting against the sun, whether going to or from work. And while I love to see glorious sunrises and sunsets, I'm glad I don't have to fight to see the road or oncoming traffic through the bright glare, especially when the pavement is wet or snowy.

Sometimes though, I do wish I was driving into the painted sky, rather than away from it. I've only got three mirrors to give me a back view, and even that's difficult if I'm staying focused on driving. I've often been tempted to simply pull over so I can open my door and stick my head out to look back at the scene God made (just for me, I'm sure).

On a recent evening, I was driving home from a little later than normal. Of course, the sunset was an awesome one, and it was to my back. I kept looking in my mirrors as much as I could, just so I could enjoy it. After all, in a few minutes, it would be gone, and I'd never see another one like it again.

My newest cellphone, I discovered, has this great feature where all I have to do is give it a shake, and the camera comes on. This came in really handy as I could still keep hold of my steering wheel, while also taking some random shots with my phone. I figured if I couldn't safely turn around and take a really good picture, I might as well catch what I was seeing in one of my mirrors.

It really didn't do the scene justice at all, but it did capture the moment so I could remember one of the many sunsets I've seen and loved.

I've often heard it said, "Don't look back." Sometimes it's meant literally, but usually figuratively. Don't look back. The past is gone. Look straight ahead. Don't dwell on what is gone. While I believe there is much truth in this, I'll also say that sometimes I think it's good to look back. Without looking back, how can we see how far we've come? Without looking at the past, how can we gauge our successes? Or goals achieved? Or circumstances we survived?

The best thing about a mirror is that you don't have to turn all the way around to look back. You can stay focused on what lies ahead, but still see how far you've come. Looking back doesn't mean turning around and going back. Remembering milestones, accomplishments, and survival of trials has the ability to keep us moving forward.

Just because there may be ugliness in the virtual mirror doesn't mean God cannot also reveal to us what is beautiful.

Have a great weekend! And if you want to take pictures while driving... have the passenger do it, or pull over. ;-)


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My Love/Hate Relationship

I hate working out. Actually, I love it. No...I think I really hate it. Well, maybe it's both, once I think about it.

Twice a week, I participate in a Warrior X-Fit kickboxing class. We get to punch and kick the punching bags in all sorts of different ways, and we're put through some incredibly outrageous no-one-in-their-right-mind-would-do-these exercises. It's a great calorie burning, fat busting, muscle building workout that lasts about 45 minutes. Each time I go to class, about 30 minutes in, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die right there on the mat in a puddle of my own sweat. Somehow I usually manage to pull through with sheer willpower, and a bit of competitiveness (I can't allow myself to quit if the person next to me is still going strong!)

As much as my body hates this routine, I have to admit, I've become much more fit. I've lost fat, gained muscle and increased my overall stamina. The class incorporates a ranking system, and I'm up to blue belt (the 7th level), which means the workouts are a lot more intense than they were when I started out, but black belt (the 10th level) is still my goal. Even though I just about die every week, I've been reaping the benefits of long-term endurance.

What I hate more than a physical workout is a spiritual one. And what I probably hate even more than that is the reminder, "trials make you stronger." I hate hearing that. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to admit whatever I suffer may have a benefit at the end, because I'd much rather sit and wallow in my misery, because it's oh so much fun in that dark little hole of mine.

(Sigh)

As I start my week on this dreaded Warrior X-Fit Monday, no matter what my body or my mind is complaining about, I know that Tuesday is tomorrow, then Wednesday, and the week isn't going to stop. It's going to keep going, and so am I. And as much a I don't want to admit it, all the little things I'm going to deal with this week, whether at home or work, are, in the end, going to make me spiritually stronger if I let them. I'm going to gain a little more patience, a little more understanding and probably a little more humility. And some of it will probably hurt, and I'll probably whine a bit before realizing that does no good. Just like I keep going at my kickboxing workout even when my muscles are burning and I'm pretty sure I'm going to pass out any second, I've got to keep going in life.

For me, I've got a stronghold that keeps me going, even when I'm weak. His name is Jesus. If you don't have Him as a stronghold, I recommend you do, since it makes life so much more bearable, even during the toughest times, and the rewards far outweigh the discomfort.

So yeah, as much as I hate the whole "trials make you stronger" thing...even I have to acknowledge the truth in it. Every time I stretch a resistance band and sweat pours down my face, I'm getting stronger. And every time my spirit is faced with opposition (and I don't give up), I'm getting stronger.

Some Days...

On Facebook yesterday, I said that some days are like trying to put on a shirt elbow-first. And to be completely honest, yes, I was speaking from experience. Both the experience of an awkward day, and the experience of literally stuffing my elbow through my t-shirt sleeve, only to find my arm stuck in that awkward position and threatening to cramp. It's a good thing I've got short arms, otherwise I may have needed the assistance of someone else, and would have had to show myself in public (looking like a flailing chicken in need of a medical squad).

Thankfully, I was able to pull my arm back through and stick my hand into the sleeve first, the second time around. No one knew how close I'd come to death by contortionism. Or embarrassment. The coroner probably wouldn't have been able to tell.

I've come to accept the fact (though I still get frustrated) that every so often, a day is going to end up just like the literal t-shirt experience. I get up in the morning, everything looks good, then something happens. Everything comes to a screeching halt, and I can't accomplish what I wanted (or at least not as quickly as I wanted). Eventually, something gives. Either I take a step back, reevaluate and go at it from a different angle, I tear through the obstacle like a flailing chicken (and either accomplish the task or simply ruin the virtual shirt), or I risk the shame of my uncomfortable position and ask for help.

In the end, how I react is up to me, and the consequences of my approach should be weighed. Do I really want to ruin the virtual shirt? Maybe there's a reason the obstacle is there. Asking for help really isn't shameful. Simply slowing down and rethinking might solve things. Getting frustrated and flustered only makes things worse - virtually or literally.

The answer on how to get around, through, or over obstacles vary, but if we'd slow down and take time to actually look at any situation, we'd probably be surprised at the possibilities presented. And...the lives of some t-shirts (or flailing chickens) might be saved. I've never seen anyone harmed by slowing down and taking a deep breath before going on.

Have a blessed weekend. And if you get your elbow stuck in your shirt sleeve, please manage a selfie before straightening it out.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts.

Who Are You?

There are certain people I thought I knew fairly well. Until I read what they posted on social media sites, like Facebook.

I’ve heard it implied that what’s posted on social media sites isn’t really the true person behind it. They’re just venting. Feeling uninhibited in that virtual world. Sharing what they think is funny. To get to know a person, you have to see them face-to-face and socialize in reality. I’ve been told to ignore some of what I see, because it’s just a virtual shadow of the real person anyway.

But even if what I see on social media sites is a virtual shadow of the user, have you ever seen a shadow that does not mimic the form of the actual object?  The thing is, what’s shared on sites like Facebook or Twitter is, in fact, a reflection of the users.

A part of me says I shouldn’t be surprised at some of the inappropriate things I see on social media, posted by people I thought lived by higher moral standards. It’s easy to post anything on the fly and not really think about it. But there’s another part of me that says no, I should be surprised. I should be disappointed in some of the things I read. I should hold those people accountable. If they wouldn’t say to my face what they post online, why are they showing it to me to read?

I don’t have to read or watch anything I don’t want to. I can block people, I can skip over certain posts on Facebook or Twitter, and I don’t have to visit blogs. But this isn’t about my personal exposure to inappropriateness, of which I have full control. It’s not even a social media issue. It’s a heart issue.

If one is willing to share an inappropriate post or picture, but not say it out loud, that doesn’t mean it’s just their shadow on the internet. It means the shadow lives at home, and the real person was just seen online while their guard was down. While they were comfortable. If one is willing to use bad language or share inappropriate jokes on social media sites, it is a glimpse into their heart. Just because they’re not willing to repeat it at church or in family settings does not mean they’re free and clear. What they post is who they are. (And if it’s not, then their problem is the chameleon trend people have adopted to take on behaviors of whomever they’re around or whatever platform they’re involved in, be it reality or chat rooms or Facebook. In which case, I dare say they don’t know themselves who they really are.)

Honestly, it all boils down to integrity. If a person I know face-to-face has shown to live a life worthy of respecting, yet what they share online contradicts this, my respect dwindles. I’m not saying I have to agree with or appreciate everything they post. I know I’m only one of their 984+ friends or followers. And I make mistakes, too. But one thing I know – I do try to post things that do not contradict my daily living. Things that do not contradict my convictions or moral standards.

If I knew someone in real life who cursed every other word, told dirty jokes to my face, and was rotten to the core, if they acted on Facebook in the same manner, I would have more respect for them than the people who try to make me think they’re good, clean or even godly people, then turn around and post bad jokes or use foul language on social media sites. The one who posts the way they live has more integrity than the “good” person who lives by double standards.

I’ve gotten to know a lot of people through Facebook, and maybe I take it more seriously than some. But I’m okay with that. I like knowing who it is I’m dealing with. I like knowing what their heart is like so when I see them in person, I won’t be surprised. And in viewing social media sites this way, I’m also holding myself accountable. I think twice before posting. Who am I? These words are a reflection of me. Is this who people see when I greet them on the street, in the store, at church, or at work? Or am I, too, adopting a double standard?

I choose to live with integrity. That means posting online with the same standards by which I live.

Not So Sweet

Rebellious. That’s how I recall my mother describing me on more than one occasion since I was a child. Personally, I’d rather say I was/am “strong-willed.” It seems to have a little more positive ring to it at least. 

In reality, I do remember being a child that had frequent urges to do things my way, even if I couldn’t find a very good reason. Or sometimes my reason for doing things my way was simply because it was the opposite of everyone else – I didn’t want to follow the crowd or do what was popular. I wanted to be the different one. Once I made up my mind, it became the principle of the thing, and backing down was the worst kind of defeat.

I remember getting in much more trouble than my older brother, who tended to give in earlier to our parents’ authority in order to avoid extra punishment. Me? I became an expert at writing “I will not” sentences. Lots of them. Hundreds of them at a time. (Insert grimace here.) But, who knows? Maybe that’s why I ended up being a writer. Maybe somewhere down deep I enjoyed writing page after page of sentences. Well…I don’t remember actually enjoying those times, but the fact of the matter is, I had a hard time allowing my will to be bent. I liked doing things my way, and that was that. I still do. Although now, thankfully I have the wherewithal to 1) know when it’s appropriate or not to push the limits, and 2) I no longer have to write sentences or receive spankings.

As an adult, I’ve wondered about my strong-willed nature, and worried I may have caused my parents undo stress. It is interesting though - now grown, that very nature has helped me survive the rough patches in my life. I’ve come to realize that God gave me my rebelliousness for a reason. He knew I’d need my stubbornness to get through the tough times. He knew I would need to stick by my guns and refuse to give in to the easy route, or to bad advice.

Sometimes I don’t like my own personality. I think I ought to be more like so-and-so, or I think I’m not good enough for such-and-such. But I’m learning that I’m me for a reason. Special. Unique. And just the way God intended.


I love hearing from you. Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts!