Time Heals Nothing

There are a lot of things that sound good. But just because something sounds good doesn't mean it is true. I think when I was younger I used to buy a lot of empty philosophy for that very reason. It sounded good.

Not long ago I heard something on the radio that serves as a great example of a good sounding statement that simply isn't true. The saying is: Time heals all wounds. You've heard it before. I've heard it. I never gave it much thought and probably believed it on some level. Until I heard the speaker say: 

"Time heals nothing. Forgiveness heals everything."

Kabam! Right between the eyes.

When he followed up the common saying (which is probably a common belief) with the forgiveness statement, it did something amazing. It made me think about that statement's flaws. Of course I can only apply this to my own life, but deep down I think we humans have very much in common. So my best guess is that other people will identify with the same things that made me realize that this trite statement just can't be true.

Reasons I find "Time heals all wounds" to be a flawed philosophy:

1. Some things that hurt me in the past, the distant past, can still hurt me today. Wound. Not healed.

2. If you asked me about certain people in my life, I might feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Wound. Not healed.

3. I treat some situations in this world like the plague. I stay away. Far away. Wound. Not healed.

Need I go on? I'm sure you can come up with examples of wounds that time hasn't healed. Time is not a heart surgeon. Time is not a mediator. Time is not an eraser.

Now, forgiveness on the other hand. That is another story altogether.

I'm not talking about the shallow version of human forgiveness.

Sorry.

I'm sorry.

It's okay (not).

Zip. Snap. Done.

That is a sure recipe for stuffing down the offense, the anger, the hurt. And guess what? Time will not heal it.

Time will just make it simmer down deep until some situation, some person, some hormonal imbalance makes that superficial "it's okay" pop a lid and the emotions come back flooding every cell in your body as if the event just happened today. Only it happened ten years ago.

No, we need the kind of forgiveness that God thought up. The kind that says yes you offended me. You did wrong. You can't make up for it. But I forgive you. I am going to say that your action was wrong. I'm going to admit that it hurt. It was wrong and replacing with another wrong won't fix it and can't fix it. It is done and can't be taken back. But you are human. Flawed. And I forgive you because life and love are bigger than a grudge. Bigger than waiting for all eternity for someone to make up for something they did when they simply will not or don't know how to or humanly cannot!

Forgiveness: To cancel a debt.

Forgiveness: To pardon somebody.

Life hurts sometimes. But lets stop glossing it over with trite statements like "Time heals all wounds." The guy on the radio is right. Forgiveness heals. Real forgiveness. Honesty, feeling the hurt instead of stuffing it down.

ENCOURAGEMENT: Vent. Get mad. Talk. Cry. Sob. But forgive. Forgive. It will heal the wound.

Fish Tacos and Cherry Pie

Fish tacos and cherry pie. That is what we ate for my son's 14th birthday tonight.

He smiled at me for the first time on July 20, 1999. Such a good baby. So happy. In spite of an illness (healed), near smoke inhalation (spared), a broken foot (healed), and falling down stairs twice (recovered once and caught another time), the baby and toddler years were filled with smiles and making us laugh.

Four made up for the terrible twos that never came. Preschool years were filled with trying to break a naughty streak without breaking a spirit. Standing at the top of the stairs yelling, "I'm gonna be nice now," and learning not to throw rocks at a sister (and other girls) were the norm. In between were trips to the cabin and the ocean, learning to fish and daddy being called up for another war.

Next came the elementary age when losing teeth and asking all sorts of questions were daily events.

"Will you ever get blind?" was one inquisition.

Another: "What if blood squirted out of my eyes?"

A black lab named Sally became a good friend. There was also best buddy Austin, just like a brother. And school and LEGOS and hating girls.

John was nine years old when we moved north. Heartbroken.

Since then five years have flown by amid school books and trying to find a niche. At first Jeff and I made great attempts at finding a passion for our son. Baseball, wrestling, Civil Air Patrol... Then, when we weren't paying attention, his feet landed on the ground kicking a soccer ball with a camera in one hand and The Hobbit in the other. Who knew? Growing up happens when we aren't looking.

I'll never forget sitting at the kitchen table one winter night in 2012 while John's dog was dying. She wasn't quite six years old. Boy did we cry. We still see some of her puppies. We still miss her. Life can really hurt sometimes.

Less than a year ago we switched from homeschool to private school. A big change that proved to be a good change and I don't know who was more nervous. While John embraced new teachers and new friends, I remembered days at home with math lessons and writing poems and eating lunch in a boat.

Today John had to work. Mowing lawn and cutting weeds at the neighbor's house. Working on a birthday is a sure sign of growing up.

I read through the journal I've been keeping for him since I was pregnant. Last year he had fish tacos too, but not cherry pie. It was chocolate cake. I suppose some things will always stay the same, while other things change.

While my boy will grow and expand his world and someday go away to a place where I can't see him each morning, or hear him talking with his sister late into the night, one thing will remain the same. Always. He will always be my son. He will always belong to me first. And maybe he will always eat fish tacos on his birthday.

Wanting Heaven

Sometimes I try too hard to make things just right. I want everything in my home to run smoothly. I work hard to keep my family on track. Make sure everyone is eating just right. Intercept harsh words. Iron out all the wrinkles. Neat. Clean. Orderly. Nice. Encouraging. Unity. Home. Family. Work. People. I want perfect!

The problem is, when I go into perfection mode, I begin to get anxious. Didn't I just read something about not letting my heart be troubled? But sometimes I go there. I work hard to create a perfect world around me inside my home, outside my home. I try to control things, and then: 

I worry.

The result? I make oodles of mistakes and generally get more and more frustrated with life.

I exhaust myself.

I reach the end of my rope.

I run out of resources.

I cry.

I let go.

I stop thinking.

I stop controlling.

I stop worrying.

I give control back to where it belongs: the hands of the One who made this world. (Ironically I never really had control anyway – it’s just a fantasy we humans like to entertain)

I’m glad. Oh, so glad to be done.

The amazing thing about letting go is I begin to see important things that were there all along, but I couldn't see… blinded by my drive for perfection. What could possibly be more important than creating my own, personal utopia?

Other people. 

Other people with real needs and real problems. Other people that I can help. Other people who aren't perfect and, like me, cannot be perfect. Other people that I can pray for. Other people I can learn from.

Funny how focusing on my small slice of life and trying to make it perfect fixes blinders on me and I don’t see past, well, myself. Yuck.

I think that my striving for perfection is really a longing for home. Not here in Minnesota, in America, on this earth, but in heaven: my eternal home. So while I’m here, I will live amid the chaos, wrinkles, tears, frustrations, imperfections. And there are many. But I will keep heaven in my heart. Now that is peace.

ENCOURAGEMENT: Don’t look for heaven on earth, it won’t be found. Rather, find ways to help others amid this crazy, crooked world. Be a slice of peace.

What's Wrong or What's Right?

Sometimes it is easy to see what is wrong in the world. Frankly, there is so much. But today, I determine to see what is right. I woke up to a new day full of possibilities. Full of opportunities to operate within a positive attitude. To see the blessings. See the eternal. See the glory. It all started last night...

Yesterday was rainy. Not a "Gee, we really need this rain," sort of day. A drizzly, yucky, rainy after what has already been a failure of a year in the weather department day. Groan.

I spent the day going from one menial task to the next. Each time I glanced outside I had to fight the urge to go back to bed.

My son, on the other hand, spent his day alternating between a book and our canoe. He spent quite a bit of time in the drizzle on the pond out back with his iPod. He was using it, I found out later, to take pictures. A favorite hobby of his.

It was last night, when the sun we never did see had set and the rain had stopped that set the tone for my mood today. My son told me that he dropped his iPod in the water. Three times.

A little background information. My boy, bless him, is very much like me. He wants things to go smoothly. He wants days to be sunny and jobs to be completed without any mishaps. I mean, who doesn't? But sometimes those of us who don't, you know, go with the flow as easily, we have a hard time with mishaps like an iPod submerged in the water. Three times.

What he said to me after I groaned, however, hit me like a brick. He said something like, "Mom, an iPod is just a temporary thing. It isn't eternal." Zing! Bam! Pow!

I felt like a cartoon character that just had a piano dropped on her. Did my son really say that? My son? Don't get me wrong. He's a great kid, but that is not the sort of answer I expect from him when the iPod he painstakingly saved his dollars for fell in the water. Three times.

To top it off, I saw the pictures he posted on facebook of lily pads dotted with raindrops. Lovely. Should I call an art gallery in NYC?

This morning as I was reading from the Bible, I was struck by a passage: Psalm 19:1-2, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge."

Rain? A blessing. iPod in the water? Temporary. God's creation? Glorious. Today it is drizzly again. There is not one cloud in the sky but so many there is not a spot of blue. Nevertheless, the skies proclaim the work of God's hands. Hands that are so much bigger than any problem this world can produce. Hands that made a sky. Blessings. Eternal. Glory.

ENCOURAGEMENT: Look up when bad things happen and remember: The troubles of this world are temporary.

What About Me?

What about me? How many times has that been the cry of one of my children? What about me, what do I get? It is a universal, normal (sadly) condition of each child to look to themselves and want what they believe they should have coming to them. Fairness. Equality. Me.

But what about me? I mean me, myself, an adult, a mother, a supposedly mature grown-up? Lately, due to some circumstances beyond my control I have come to the realization that my heart has the same cry as that of a child.

What about me? Will I succeed? Will I fit in? Will I get what I want? Who will be my friend? Really? Am I that self-focused? Sometimes, sadly, the answer is yes.

This morning I was reading in Philippians. While my heart was yearning for me and what I want, somewhere else, deep inside, said, "What about them?" Who are they, I pondered? Well, everyone else, of course. Philippians states, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition." Ouch. "...look to the interest of others." Double ouch. "Do everything without complaining or arguing." Yikes!

In a world that constantly promotes balance, these "nothing" and "everything" words seem extreme. Yet somehow I know they are core to truth and peace and will bring me away from the cry of my childish "What about me?"

As I sat in the early morning solitude I made a decision. Perhaps I have made it before. Maybe I have been dragged off into a "me" state of mind for the umpteenth time in my life. But I am here again, confronted with the truth of God's word. I decide to stop thinking about me and what I get.

It is time to focus on someone else. Look out for their interest. How do they fit in? How can I help them get what they need? How can I be a friend to someone who needs a friend?

To be honest it is a relief. Looking to self is, at it's core, bondage, chaos, frustrating. Yuck. How do I go there? I'd love to say that my heart reaches out to the world around me in love and charity. It would be a lie. My heart is constantly deceiving me into thinking I must look out for number one. Just like a kid.

But, thanks be to God for his constant love and truth that brings me back to what I really need. It is not me. It is not even others. It is Jesus. What about him? It is his love. It is his words, his truth, his forgiveness. Only in him can I look beyond my own selfish needs and follow those words in Philippians. Maybe today my heart will look to others and cry, "What about them?"

ENCOURAGEMENT: Read the book of Philippians today.