Known From the Inside Out

Dear Old Friend,

Today I am placing special emphasis on that word “old”.  As you know, the day before my birthday was my last day of work, making Retirement, as I told everyone, one of the best birthday presents I have ever received!  The decision to take that momentous step led me to do a lot of reflecting.  I remember wondering, not so many years ago, what retirement must feel like.  Did retirees really look at it as a new beginning; or, did they secretly view retirement in the same way that the rest of us who weren’t there yet perceived it, as the beginning of the End? 

I recently read a Facebook post from one of our high school friends.  He told of an occasion where he was leaving a store at the same time a father and his young daughter were coming in.  The father told the little girl to, “Let the old man out first”.  After looking around and finally realizing with a jolt that he was the “old man” being referenced, our friend said he decided to go home and write his obituary.

I laughed when I read his post, but I know what he meant.  I have concluded that no one ever considers himself to be old, in the same sense that “old” is thought of by the young. We may feel sick or experience pain, but it is just that; not “old”.  Perhaps the closest we come is the realization that others now view us in the same way we once viewed our parents’ generation; but, we finally see that we were mistaken.  We now understand that, inside, we are all, always, our same ageless selves.  “Old” is a misperception of those on the outside.

The thing is, we are all on the outside of each other’s lives.  We can only relate to each other through the lens of our perceptions which form our opinions of what we believe to be true about each other; and, these opinions may bear little or no resemblance to the actual truth.  We only have a dim understanding of ourselves at any given point in time, so it is no wonder that we are unable to correctly perceive those around us.

I became aware of this when I was very young.  I was certainly unable to read or write at the time, but I remember telling my mother that I wanted to write a book explaining to parents what it was like to be a child.  My mother laughed and said that all parents had once been children, so they already understood.  But I knew that, while they might have once been children, they had all forgotten how it felt to be a child with parents ruling over them.  I wish I had been able to write that book.  I think it might have helped me to be a better parent.

The only time I actually was a really good parent was before I had children.  I had firm ideas of what good parenting was supposed to look like.  I knew what I would expect from my children, and what I would and would not accept as far as their behavior was concerned.  I was also quite clear on where other parents had failed, and therefore I knew what mistakes I was not going to make.  

That confidence came from viewing parenthood from the outside.  Once I was on the inside, however, I discovered that I knew absolutely nothing.  Every single thing I carried in from the outside immediately turned to dust.  No amount of observation, reading or research had prepared me for what life on the inside of parenting was really like.

The same thing is true on an interpersonal level.  No matter how I try to explain to another human being what it is like to be me on the inside, and no matter how much that other human being might want to understand, at the end of the day, they cannot truly know me, because they are and always will be on the outside.  

While there is nothing wrong with our attempting to explain or struggling to understand, because every small degree of awareness of another’s life is precious, the fact remains that we will never be able to fully comprehend what it is like to be someone else. I am sure I am not the only one who has spent many years of my life longing to find that one person who will finally, truly know me, only to be disillusioned and disappointed each time when I discovered that was not the case.

Philosophers have spoken of the need to face our “Existential Loneliness” as an unavoidable condition of our humanity; the essence of being human.  We are each alone, on the inside.  But Scripture tells us of a God who refused to be on the outside, and chose to become flesh and dwell among us (John 1:14)  And then, because of what Christ accomplished for us on the cross, his Spirit now comes and lives inside of us. (1 Corinthians 6:19; Colossians 1:27; 1 John 4:15)  

Did you catch that?  We, as believers in Christ, are not alone on the inside.  There is someone who does know us, fully and completely; who understands all of our experiences, our fears and failures; who knows us better than we know ourselves and loves us with an everlasting love.  He is the one we have longed for and searched for our whole lives, and we will never find ourselves disillusioned or disappointed with him, because he knows us from the inside out.

He is the one who remembers what it is like to be a child with parents ruling over you, he is the one who anticipated the inexplicable fierce love you would feel when you saw your baby for the first time, he is the one who understood the helplessness you experienced when you realized you did not have a clue about how to be a parent, he is the one who has always been with you, even to your old age and gray hairs. (Psalm 71:18)  He is the one who truly knows that “old” really is just a misperception of those on the outside, and that you are still, and always, your ageless self on the inside.  He is the one from whom even death cannot separate you.  (Romans 8:38-39)  He is the one who has said he will never leave you or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5); and he is the one who promises that one day you will know him as fully as he has always known you. (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Isn't it incredibly comforting to realize that there is someone who completely understands us, especially at this point in our journey!  

I am so looking forward to spending more time with you now that I’m retired!

Love Always,

Bonnie

The Inescapable Box

 

Dear Old Friend,

I have been thinking a lot about boxes lately.  Not the cardboard variety, but the kind we put each other in both individually and as a society.  We categorize people based on our life experiences, what we have been told by others or perhaps fear and then we project that categorization onto a person and put them into a box derived from our bias.  You might think that because of the incidents of the past week I am referring specifically to racial boxes or police boxes; and, while those are examples of what I mean, the issue goes much deeper than that.  We have bias boxes for everyone in our lives and we relate to each other based on our boxes.

Think about the stages of dating relationships for example.  We start out in each other’s Amazing Box.  Everything which the other person does seems unbelievably wonderful; even their flaws are adorable. But, as time goes by, the flaws become less adorable and more annoying.  We may then move each other to a negative box such as the Stubborn Box, or the Controlling Box or the Boring Box.  The thing is, the person in the box may not actually be stubborn, controlling or boring; they might, in fact, be agreeable, humble and witty; but that does not matter.  What matters is only what the person who placed them in the box believes they are.  The burden is on the one in the negative box to prove that they do not belong there; but the bias of the one who put them in the box makes satisfying that burden of proof almost impossible. Every action of the person in the box will be scrutinized and interpreted according to the bias.  In a dating relationship, once you are in a negative box, you will most likely soon be in the Ex Box.

Interestingly, while it is next to impossible to be moved from a negative box to a positive box, the reverse is not true.  One’s position in a positive box is tenuous at best; any infraction, real or imagined, can result in reassignment to a negative box. Movement from the Good Daughter, Son, Mother, Father, Spouse, Worker or Friend Box to the corresponding Bad box can occur in the blink of an eye, whether or not it was merited. What matters is not actual merit but perceived merit.

Reality may play only a small part in our perceptions of each other.  We are influenced by so many factors, some of which are subconscious, that the opportunity for misinterpreting and misunderstanding each other seems more likely than not. As a result, we spend much of our time fearfully and frustratedly trying to explain ourselves in ways which will justify our not being placed in a box from which there is virtually no way of escape.

We have all been put in negative boxes and we have imprisoned others. You and I, as mothers, have experienced firsthand the frustration of being placed in the negative boxes our children have put us in; and we can also look back on how we did the same thing to our own mothers.  As a nation, we are experiencing the results of the false and unfair box assignments of whole groups of people.  We see it in our personal relationships and between nations all around the world. 

So, what is the answer? I could pontificate about how we should all stop putting each other in negative boxes, and start listening to and seeing each other for who we are rather than projecting our biases onto each other.  Of course, we really should try to do that, and keep on trying when we fail; but, the thing is, we will fail.  Even when we recognize that we should stop and want to stop, we will never completely stop.

Is there hope, then, for our world of perpetual boxers? Our hope is in this, “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8.  Our hope is in the fact that God did not withhold his love from us until we got things right.  God is the only one who truly knows us and sees us as we are.  He is never blinded by some unfair preconception of us.  He knows every fear, every heartache and every wound which has been inflicted on us by others.  He knows the experiences which have shaped us and our view of the world and those in it. He knows us better than we know ourselves, and he loves us and showed us that love even in the midst of our negative boxing of others, by sending his son to carry to the cross all of the wounds we have inflicted upon others and those inflicted on us. 

When we are unable to escape from the negative box in which we have been placed, we can rest in the knowledge that God knows the truth.  When we have imprisoned others in our own negative boxes, we can be assured that there is a place of forgiveness and healing for that as well.  And, finally, we can live in expectation of the day when there will be no more misunderstandings or misinterpretations; when we will see and know each other as who we really are; a day when all of the boxes will be gone and we will be free.

Oh, how I long for that day!

Love Always,

Bonnie

If You Empty It, It Will Fill

Dear Old Friend,

I was warned that this would happen, but I have to say, I didn’t believe it.  Before I retired I worked at least forty hours a week.  This means that I should now have forty prime hours, plus all of the time I spent commuting, freed up on my calendar every week, right? These were hours I was going to fill with all manner of edifying activities; and, once I got past the whole Law of Retirement mindset, I was back to being excited about the idea of doing things like walking every day, catching up with old friends, playing with my grandchildren and writing, to name a few.  That list represents the more enjoyable end of the spectrum, but I was also serious about my desire to begin methodically sorting through the junk squirreled away in each room of our home and ruthlessly paring it down.

What has happened instead is that I have spent an inordinate amount of time figuring out things like how the online bill pay system works; indulging my new passion of finding a cure for, or at least relief from, every ailment known to mankind through the use of essential oils; preparing food for my husband to take to work, so that he doesn’t keep stopping for expensive unhealthy food every day; and running all kinds of errands for people who don’t have forty empty hours on their calendars and are excited to have found someone who does.

I have also rediscovered the fact that the regular, mundane household chores, like keeping a clean kitchen, vacuuming, dusting and doing laundry are not just one and done.  No, you have to spend the same amount of time, day in and day out, doing the same things if you want to stay on top of it all instead of living like a barbarian and just letting it go, doing what you can when you can, like I did when I was working! Trying to live like a normal member of polite society eats up a lot of those empty hours!

I have found that, although sitting at a desk handling all kinds of problems all day was mentally exhausting, running around doing household chores and errands is equally physically and emotionally taxing and most days I find myself, mid afternoon, fighting the urge to take a nap.  A Nap!  I haven’t succumbed to that temptation yet, because I fear it will be game over if I do.

The problem is, I have yet to go through one single closet!  But I did spend a couple of days watching my grandsons during Spring Break, which led to a serious discussion about possible plans for Summer Break since I am now available.  That might not be exactly how I pictured it, but, hey, spending time with my grandsons was definitely on my list!

The bottom line is, somehow I feel like I am just about as busy as I was when I was working.  Don’t get me wrong, I am greatly enjoying what I am doing, especially in comparison, but I see that I may never be able to fit in all of the things I thought I was going to do.  The hole has already filled up.

As I was thinking about this, Aristotle’s theory that nature abhors a vacuum popped into my head.  You know, the idea that things seemingly can’t remain empty; they will, almost of necessity, fill up again?  And that thought reminded me, as most things do, about something in scripture.  It is a story Jesus told about something else which was emptied and then filled up again.

The story is found in Luke 11:24-26:  “When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and finding none it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ And when it comes, it finds the house swept and put in order.  Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there.  And the last state of that person is worse than the first.”

Many people have taken this story and have used it as the basis for a whole philosophy of demonology.  I, on the other hand, see it as a very accurate picture of what happens to any and all of us when we set out upon a moral improvement project.  We, with all good intentions, kick out the offending sin, or bad habit, or unhealthy way of living.  We resolve to do better.  We throw out all of the processed foods in the pantry; or the booze; or we put a block on the computer to keep us from visiting offensive sites; or we remove that one person’s number from our phone; whatever the behavior is that we are determined to change.  Then we tidy up our lives and expect that will do the trick.  Then we gain back all the weight we lost, plus ten pounds; or, we fall off the wagon and get dragged down the road, in the mud, face first.

Luke 11 began with Jesus casting out a demon which had rendered the person mute.  Jesus obviously cared then and cares now about rescuing us from the damage caused by the presence of sin in our lives, but then he told that story to say there is no permanent solution to sin except his own imputed righteousness and his substitutionary death on the cross.  He knew that even if the demons were cast out they would return, with friends. The casting out of demons was only a temporary fix at best. The salvation he came to provide was eternal.

Jesus ended chapter 11 with the scathing list of woes for the Pharisees, all based on the repugnant fact that they were only concerned about keeping up an appearance of goodness.  Theirs was a surface religion; caring about the cleanliness of the outside of the cup with no concern for the filth on the inside. He finished by telling them, “Woe to you, experts in the law, because you have taken away the key to knowledge.  You yourselves have not entered, and you have hindered those who were “entering”. (Luke 11:52)

The key to knowledge which the teachers of the law had taken away was the promise of a Messiah, a Savior, Christ himself.  Instead they presented the people with the false key of moral goodness, or obedience, by which no one would be able to unlock and walk through the gates into the Kingdom of God.  Sadly, that’s not so different today, is it?

Regardless of how my retirement hours are filled, or how many times I flounder in my attempts to be a better person, I am so grateful to know that I am loved purely on the basis of what my Savior has done for me.

Love Always,

Bonnie 

The Effects

Dear Old Friend,

You’ve certainly known me long enough to be aware that I tend to get pretty animated about the things I believe in.  I have been told that I would make a good salesperson because of that tendency; but, years ago I discovered that was not necessarily the case when I tried my hand at selling furniture as a way to support my family.  I inevitably sent people home to “think about it” because I could not bear to be pushy.  Although, truth be told, I was never passionate about furniture, which is why I jumped at an office position as soon as one opened up.  But, if you get me started on something I am passionate about, like the gospel, I can’t shut up! And, while nothing will ever surpass the gospel or my children and grandchildren as far as passions go, I have apparently found a new one; quite unintentionally.

My daughter, a mother of two young boys, is very health conscious.  She is always looking for ways to do things naturally, removing as many additives and chemicals from their lives as possible.  Not too long ago she mentioned to me that she was interested in learning more about Essential Oils.  I nodded encouragingly, but I thought of it as just another trend du jour; something that all the young mothers-in-the-know were getting into.  Initially I paid little attention.  Then, as she learned more, she kept talking to me about it, and, wanting to be a supportive mom, I listened and asked a few questions.  When she signed up so that she could get a discount on the oils she was buying and offered me her discount on any products I might be interested in trying, I graciously ordered a couple of oils which I thought I might possibly use so that she could get money toward the oils she wanted to buy. 

You see where this is going, right?  You know that my shoulder and neck have been hurting since my car accident, despite pain meds and a chiropractor, so I wasn't expecting much when I tried one of the oil blends on that area; but, to my amazement, I got so much relief that I had the first good night’s sleep I’d had in months. Soon, I had my own discount, and a kit full of oils.  When one of the oil blends in my kit took away my toothache pain, which ibuprofen hadn’t even touched, I was hooked! 

While I am all for young mothers being proactive by trying to find ways of eliminating as many drugs and chemicals as possible from their children’s lives, you and I are Baby Boomers! We’re a part of that great generation which is now completely falling apart!  Most of us are walking pharmacies, probably in large part due to all of the drugs and chemicals we have been exposed to across the years. 

Case in point:  I have GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease).  Before I discovered Proton Pump Inhibitors (like Prilosec, Nexium and Protonix) I lived in fear of waking up at night with the horrendously corrosive stomach acid backing up into my throat.  When that occurred, I couldn’t breathe and coughing only seemed to make it worse. It was a terrifying experience.  For me, those drugs were life-altering and I have taken them for many years. 

Then, recently, I began seeing articles about them. The first one was after I was diagnosed with osteopenia (bone loss), the forerunner of osteoporosis, where the bones become weak and brittle. The article indicated a possible link between that condition and PPI’s.

Then, I saw this article, which suggests a 44% higher risk of dementia for those using PPI’s. Forty-four percent!!!

And the final straw was this article regarding increased risk for heart attacks down the road, with use of PPI's.

I was stunned, and felt caught between a rock and a hard place! I couldn’t imagine going back to the dread of throat-paralyzing stomach acid, but the alternative looming possibilities certainly didn’t seem like a beneficial trade.

Enter oils.  I was pretty scared to stop the PPI’s, because I read that there would initially be an overproduction of acid, but I found an oil blend which I could take internally, a couple of drops in a teaspoon of honey, and it worked immediately to regulate and maintain!  I have only used it one to two times a week, and have experienced no problems at all!

A long time ago I was struck by the thought that there is simply no perfect way for humans to deal with all of the effects of living in a fallen world.  We do one thing and it unbalances something else and leads to a different set of problems.  As far as sin itself is concerned, there is a perfect answer, but it is not from any human wisdom or effort. It is the perfect sacrifice of God’s only Son; His perfectly obedient life for my sinful life; His torturous death as the penalty for sin, which should have been my penalty.

But, as far as the effects on our bodies, we do what we can to correct what we can and then trust our feeble frames to our faithful creator.  It’s all grace.

Love Always,

Bonnie

P.S. If you have any questions, email me at theoilofgrace@gmail.com

The Law of Retirement

Dear Old Friend,

I'm pretty sure that my letters to you will now primarily chronicle this new journey I have embarked upon called retirement.  This is actually week one of the “new normal” because immediately after my last day of work I took a road trip to attend my littlest grandson’s first birthday party which was exactly the kind of thing I looked forward to being able to do once I was able to choose what to do with my own time.  So, now that I’m back I decided today was the day to sit down and do some planning, some restructuring, in keeping with my new life.  I came armed with a calendar for a schedule and my plans. 

I had a plan for the daily upkeep of my house; a more detailed plan for sorting through each room and each closet and drawer in each room; a separate plan for attacking the laundry/storage room, which holds all of the accumulated treasures/junk from several generations of my family; a plan for writing; a plan for correspondence; a plan for handling finances; a plan for adding to my finances; a plan for grocery shopping; a plan for cooking; a plan for spending time with friends, which includes social media; a plan for spending time with my husband and extended family; a plan for spending time with God.  The idea was to work out a schedule which included time for all of that stuff, preferably making the things at the end of that list the first things on my schedule. 

Sheesh!  I was overwhelmed before I could start.  Every one of those things is important to me, but seeing them laid out before me as the expectations I had for myself, I immediately felt inadequate and demotivated.  Why? Because they stopped being the things I could hardly wait to do and became The Law of Retirement.

So, sitting at my dining room table with all of my good intentions spread out in front of me, I pondered my abrupt change of attitude.  The first question I asked myself was why I felt the need to make all those plans and put them on a schedule to begin with.  I had some logical reasons.  I wanted to be organized, not haphazard.  I thought I needed an overview of all I wanted to accomplish in order to prioritize and allow time for each of them.  In theory, my plan was to ensure that I would be able to do the fun things as well as the not so enjoyable things.  But, in reality, I discovered that lurking beneath my logic was my need to justify my decision to considerably reduce our income by becoming a stay-at-home retiree; which I recognized immediately as being amazingly similar to my need from decades earlier to justify being a stay-at-home mom.  

In our ‘you-are-what-you-do’ society, retirees don’t count for much.  The first question I got every time I told anyone that I was going to retire was, “What are you going to do?”  At least people know what stay-at-home-moms are going to do, even if some people absurdly view it as a menial unpaid position.  But, what purpose do retirees serve?  What gives our lives value?  We are supposed to have an answer ready which proves our worth and I was determined to have a schedule full!

That line of thinking also seemed an awful lot like the Christianity I grew up with:  Christians expecting other Christians to justify their existence.  ‘Your salvation cost Jesus his life, so what are you going to do in return?’ was the question, and we were supposed to have a ready answer to prove that we were not just freeloading off of Jesus’ grace.  I labored under that burden far too long until, blessedly, I learned that I already had all of the justification I needed in Christ, and that he never asked for or expected me to pay him back for his free gift.  He simply wanted me to live from the position of joy and relief at not having to fulfill some Law of Reimbursement.  And, the clearer and more real that became to me, the freer I was to share that good news with others and to do the things I actually wanted to do.

This brought me back to my Law of Retirement which, as laws always do, was accusing me before I even got started, placing me under its rules and obligations, making me its slave; at least that’s how I felt. So, I decided to apply my freedom in Christ in this situation, too.  I am not going to labor under the burden of trying to prove my worth or justify my existence, and I am pretty sure that the clearer and more real that becomes to me the freer I am going to feel to dive into everything I was going to do all along.

I feel better already!

Love Always,

Bonnie

Just Christ and Him Crucified

Dear Old Friend,

I haven’t written to you in a long time.  I regret that for a number of reasons, but mostly because, in losing touch with you I’m pretty sure I lost touch with “the basics”.  I’ve been very busy lately trying to understand things.  I’m certainly not saying there’s anything wrong with wanting to have a deeper understanding of spiritual truths, but I have found that there is a pit on that path into which you can fall; and right now I feel like I’m sitting in the bottom of that pit, too tired to climb back out.

My brain hurts.  I feel battle-weary and confused.  I’m not always the fastest or the brightest, but even I know this doesn’t feel like Good News.  I’ve been listening to lots of opinions as to what makes up that News, and there are almost as many different opinions as there are people as to what should or should not be included under that banner. 

Is there such a thing as grace on the ground? Should we as Christians constantly be striving, albeit poorly, to offer to others the same love, mercy and forgiveness we have been given; and, if we should, is there a limit? And, if there is, what would that limit look like? Or, is that strictly just my Old Adam trying to get some skin in the game? Should I think at all in terms of desiring to please God with my life, or is that a completely false way of thinking, because he is already well-pleased with me because of Christ?

If I feel good and happy when I have been given an opportunity to minister to someone, is that the Holy Spirit, or is that just me pridefully trying to take the credit which belongs to God alone?

If I think that Scripture seems to take for granted that Christians will be baptized and take communion, does that mean that I am adding something to salvation by grace alone, through faith alone in the finished work of Christ alone? 

Does “sanctification” mean to become more and more and more holy?  Can there actually be such a thing as “more” holy?  And, if there is, does it have anything to do with my improving moral behavior?

Does the fact that I want to be loved and accepted and try to act in ways which will bring about that result necessarily mean that I am wearing a mask?  And, is the answer, instead, for me to be totally vulnerable to other fallible human beings who “should” respect me for it and then let down their guard in return, but who are much more likely to never quite look me in the eye again?

You know what?  I don’t know!  On any given day I might just give you a different answer to any of the questions above, and probably not even realize it.  It’s even quite likely that I have given different answers to those questions on the same day; maybe even in the same conversation.  And, I am just about as certain that is true of everyone I have been listening to as well.

Are these important questions? Yes.  Are there absolute answers to those questions?  Maybe.  Probably. Do I know of anyone who knows all of the answers?  Besides God, no.  There might be, but at this point I am not aware of just who that person or group is; and, at this moment, I am tired of trying to figure it out.

At this moment, I just need to know that Jesus loves me, despite the fact that I might not have every jot and tittle of my theology figured out.  I need to know that his love for me is no more dependent on my total grasp of grace than it was on my total obedience to the law.  I need to have God “restore unto me the joy of my salvation.”  I want to stop worrying about getting it right and rest in my Savior’s arms.  For right now I’m deciding to know nothing but “Jesus Christ and him crucified.”

And I just wanted to say that to someone who loves me as I am.  Thank you for being that someone for me.

Love Always,

Bonnie

Fears and Faceplants

 

Dear Old Friend,

As you know, I just came back from helping to take care of my precious four year old grandson who had a very serious infection in his foot, which began to spread up his leg, and initially wasn’t responding to antibiotics.  It was a pretty scary time!  I am so grateful for all of the people who prayed and for all of the people at home and at work who were so supportive and made it possible for me to go.  My daughter needed the help and rest and I was so glad to be able to give her a break and to spend time with my sweet boy in the hospital.

Because he was being given IV antibiotics, my grandson had been stuck with needles repeatedly in order to find a good vein.  In addition, blood had to be drawn periodically to be cultured, and it could not be tainted with the antibiotic, so this required sticking him again.  Each incident was pure torment, with that precious child crying and begging them as politely as he could to please stop.  It was heartbreaking! As a result, every single time anyone came into the room, he would eye them suspiciously and ask, “Why are you here?” Explaining to him that the nurses and technicians were only doing these things to help him get better did absolutely nothing to allay his fears. Eventually, even when there wasn't anything being done to him which was hurting him, he would cry and scream anyway, in fearful expectation that it would. 

Once the IV antibiotics finally took hold and got things under control, the goal was to get him ready to go home with oral antibiotics; but, sadly, after repeated failed attempts to get him to swallow and keep the medicine down, it was decided that a PICC line had to be put in his arm so that he could continue IV antibiotics at home.  Because that line was inserted surgically, thankfully he did not have to feel the pain of another IV stick; but, when he woke up and we explained that, with his new line, he would not feel any pain when the nurses hooked him up to the antibiotic or flushed the line, he didn’t believe us!  He still cried each time they touched the new line until he finally realized that we were right.

Once they were satisfied that the PICC line was functioning properly and that my daughter understood how to properly care for it and was comfortable with administering the antibiotics herself, my grandson was finally released.  While he was in the hospital, because he was not feeling well, he had been content to quietly play on his iPad, listen to books and watch television, but once he was home and feeling better he was full of pent up four-year-old energy.  Unfortunately, he still had to be careful with his PICC line and had to limit the use of his foot.  Consequently, he would play quietly until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and then he would suddenly become a little wild man.  He would jump and roar, laugh and throw himself around trying to release some of that energy. 

On one occasion he decided that standing on the sofa next to me and then falling face down into my lap was a great idea.  I tried to dissuade him, to no avail; so, every time he fell I would catch him to keep him from face planting into the arm of the couch or crash landing onto the floor.  Fortunately he does not weigh a lot, but it was still a challenge to catch a launching child who was all flailing arms and legs!

After a number of death-defying leaps, he became upset that I was catching him.  He interpreted my actions as attempts to prevent him from doing what he wanted to do, rather than as life-saving interventions.  As his frustration mounted and my explanations of why I was doing what I was doing failed to mollify him, I finally told him that we needed to stop this little game; then, because my daughter called me at that moment, I stood up to go into the other room.

Rather than stopping his acrobatic feats when I turned my back, my grandson saw only a great opportunity to do exactly what he had wanted to do all along, now that I was out of the way; and, you can imagine what happened next:  He face planted directly into the arm of the sofa and wailing ensued!

While I comforted a very sad little boy and explained that this was exactly what I had been trying to prevent (a pious way of saying ‘I told you so’), God made a point of reminding me that I had no room to be self-righteous, because my grandson and I are a lot alike.

When the trials of life come, I quickly become terrified of what pain might lie ahead for me or for those who matter the most to me.  It makes no difference to me that God might be doing something beneficial, I still become suspicious of his goodness and distrustful of his love. I am certain that I know what is best, and I resent what I perceive to be God’s efforts at keeping me from getting what I desire.  I have even been known to propel myself headlong into situations where I know God doesn’t want me to go; but, instead of telling me ‘I told you so’ or getting angry with me when I get hurt, God always picks me up, gently takes me in his arms and tells me that he loves me and understands my fears.  He whispers to me about how, because he knows my frailty, he sent his son to rescue me, even when I wasn’t ready to admit I needed to be rescued; and, he assures me that there is nothing I could ever do which would separate me from his love.  He simply gives me grace.

No matter how old we get, my grandson and I will always be God’s precious children and we will always need that grace!

Love Always,

Bonnie