Who's that in the Mirror?

Who are you making fun of? I feel obligated to warn you that you are systematically being transformed into the very characters you used to mock. At least I am.

Back in Guatemala when I was the new kid on the block, a young 20-something with few enough children to call each one by the right name most of the time, I used to snicker at Mrs. (you-think-you-have-it-bad) Missionary Mighty Woman with her eight (what was she thinking?) children. She was notorious for publicly correcting her husband, saying, “No, dear. I’m sure you are mistaken. It couldn’t have possibly been 1950-whatever when that happened, because I distinctly remember that I was pregnant with such-and-such a baby that summer….”

Ha! How I used to laugh over that, until I stopped finding it funny. In fact now I find myself (horrors!), not saying it outright (usually), but often mentally correcting my own dh’s faulty time lines. I now calculate dates and events based on how many children we had at any time in question.

Once upon a time I vowed to never evolve into that Mighty Missionary Woman for another reason, but darn if I don’t see glimpses of “You-think-you-have-it-bad” staring at me in the mirror. Maybe it was inevitable, I don’t know, but it does seem that you fresh young 20-somethings have a much easier go of things than we did back in my day, and certainly have things easier than the generation before me. But I will keep my mouth closed and try hard not to say it out loud, though my pen might get careless at times.

When you turn into me someday (just you wait!), or worse, into your mother, which we all seem to do for better or for worse, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Oh, and another confession, while I’m on a roll. I used to secretly and sometimes openly tease a missionary friend who suffers from something akin to narcolepsy. Poor thing. She randomly drops off to sleep whenever she is in a comfortable chair (which of course is not a daily occurrence in this prickly land of rustic and hard furniture). Ha, ha, ha. How I used to laugh, until I had Dengue, and now it’s Jamie Jo sitting in the chair falling asleep without notice.

I’m telling you, beware! Watch whom you tease. She’s lurking in your mirror even now.

IRL* Maybe if I intentionally mock all the skinny ladies….

What Kind of Apology is That?

Suddenly several past blog posts are returning to haunt me. Was I really the author of that ridiculous post about forgiveness?

Just last Saturday, I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Again. I sinned against many, and many sinned against me. Basically it was one of my excruciating headache days where frankly no one in my family had a hope of pleasing me -- short of disappearing altogether, but no one took the hint.

The next day, one person bravely approached me and said, “I’m sorry.” (Expectant look accompanied my continued silent treatment.) “For everything,” he added. (Accusing look replaced the expectant one.) “All day yesterday.” (Disgusted look inserted.)

WHAT KIND OF APOLOGY IS THAT? Most of us would agree that a general apology of that sort just does not cut it. I want him to itemize precisely how he hurt, neglected, and offended me, and to express his sorrow and regret with evidence of a repentant heart. I mean really! Does he think I will just erase the whole day for he asking? Without making him suffer?

Thankfully guilt flooded my heart before any snarky words escaped my lips. The Holy Spirit practically shouted at me how often I do the exact same thing. I simply give a quick oops-I’m-sorry-I-sinned type confession just to maintain a position of intimacy with the Lord. It just hit me over the head that maybe God wants me to actually itemize my sin sometime, not so that I will suffer with the weight of it, but so that I will experience the relief of having it lifted. Without confessing my sin, am I really turning from it?

This past week has been a continual battle with more than a fair share of difficulties and trials. Within 24 hours, my beloved MacBook began to fail (with no handy dandy Apple store to run to for help), the car battery died while I was in the city with a granddaddy migraine, and finally my Kindle died, too (but has been resuscitated, thankfully). The only way I could possibly hope to experience victory was through warfare prayer against despair, but I didn’t dare enter that level of prayer without being fully cleansed from all sin and unrighteousness.

The problem with my MacBook is largely because I had overloaded it with too many programs without deleting all the garbage that had accumulated on the hard drive. It didn’t have nearly enough space for all the processes I was requiring of it.

Spiritually I am in the same boat as my computer, running way too many applications with way too much garbage (and sin?) cluttering my heart, mind, and daily agenda. With one simple step, I can have unlimited gigabytes of spiritual, mental, and physical power available to me. Without oversimplifying or belaboring the point, I just want to admit that I am returning to the Power source, and trying to set things right.

Meanwhile I commiserate with those of you who battle with long-term, debilitating illness. I guess you just learn to compensate for your lack of energy by doing a lot less. How you stay sweet with your loved ones I will never understand.

Oh, and I did forgive him-who-shall-not-be-named for all his many offenses. Bless his heart. Why should I expect him to remember what he did? I can’t remember myself any more.

IRL* For now I am trying to clear my foggy irrational brain and figure out where to address all my apologies.

Ask Jamie Jo: Is JJ's Response Really Hypothetical?

"How do you deal with absences and returns of your husband if he frequently travels? It seems that as a family we have one routine and system while he is gone, and then we have to adjust when he returns. It is like going from a two-parent family to a one-parent one and back again. What ways have you found to handle those transitions?"

For those who have no idea what she is talking about, let me conjure up *cough* a hypothetical situation. When dh* [*see sidebar "Jamie-Jo Speak" for all starred* words] is away the wife can more fully devote herself to the Lord and the dc*. Her panache is restored without a partner by her side to witness and or point out her failings. Her new confidence may or may not be warranted, but she enjoys only serving a perfect Master, one who wipes the slate clean day by day. As bad as this sounds, and as much as she hates to admit it, dh's travels provide a break from any and all marital strife.

She begins to make daily decisions usually left up to dh. She groans under the weight of responsibility, but grows closer to the Lord through this occasional suffering. Meanwhile she carries the mantle of spiritual direction and discipline of the kids, growing in her ability and confidence to run the home on her own. For a while, she likes it, if she would be honest enough to admit it.

At the same time she does miss the daily adult companionship dh normally provides, but somehow finds alternate ways to fill that need. She sometimes chooses to be hospitable and to minister to others, but usually she turns to Facebook and online forums to fill the need, and then feels guilty for it afterward. Still other times she becomes a happy recluse, reveling in her newfound solitude in the evenings after dc are in bed.

If not extremely careful, she can become downright narcissistic while dh is gone, seeking every selfish pleasure like online bargain hunting, bubble baths, pedicures, journaling, or reading a good novel. She rationalizes by saying she needs to refuel her emotional tank, but deep down she suspects she is going overboard. (Not that she cares.)

On her good days, she spends her evenings in prayer and meditation, a luxury that pays off in the end, unless she becomes resentful of her dh when he returns and spoils her new habit of solitude.

Meanwhile the dc are enjoying more quality and quantity time with Mom, rediscovering the blessing of having only one parent fussing at them, only one parent to grant them permission, or should I say only one parent who will give in to crazy requests? The dc enjoy the simpler meals, the flexible mom who is suddenly free to read them a story, play a game with them, etc.

In comes dh at the end of his trip, weary and possibly queasy, feeling very needy for dw's* attention which the dc are not ready to share. During his time away, dh misses his dw and dc (depending on the length of the trip) until the very memory becomes distorted. What he longs for is not the family-as-they-are, but an ideal dream family of his own making, a family without faults.

By the time he returns, dw has grown tired of the added responsibilities of answering emails, phone calls, and drop-in visitors on top of caring for the house and kids. By now the dc are taking advantage of her good nature until she's sick of the whole thing. She longs for dh's return - not the return of the real flesh and blood dh, mind you, but the ideal dream man without faults.

If this were a piece of fiction, we would say dh's return is the climax of the story involving a tremendous clash in which expectations are dashed all over the place in an ungodly all-around reality check.

The children, who are no longer quite so dear, miss the subtle hint that they must stop badgering Mom who is relinquishing her push-over-ness. Meanwhile Dad wants them to consult him before going out, meals begin to include yucky things like salad and vegetables again, and everyone is out of sorts as a result of the inevitable discord between the now-two parents, and chaos reigns until the former norm is restored.

Have I come close to pegging the situation? I may or may not be speaking from personal experience, *cough* but I will share a few tips I've learned along the way.

1. First, keep routines the same whether Dad is home or not. No “Yee-haw, let's be slobs and not clean house until the last day,” and no eating ice cream and calling it dinner!

2. Spend the time dh is away listing all the reasons you appreciate him, empathizing with him for always carrying the weight of responsibility for everything financial, mechanical, electrical, spiritual, and otherwise.

3. Explain dh's plight with the dc, and plan for his return by possibly play-acting the role of the ideal dw and dc he misses -- at least for the first day or so. Delay the reality check as long as possible, or make sure it happens gradually.

4. Practice honoring Dad while he's gone.

5. Do NOT dump a list of grievances on poor dh the minute he walks in the door, no matter how many appliances broke down while he was gone.

6. Take care of as many disasters as you can before he gets back, especially things like changing the gas tank and relighting the hot water heater so he can get cleaned up before discovering any major problems.

Oh, and most importantly, pray. Pray before, during, and after dh returns. What else would y'all add to the list? Please add your comments below.

IRL* Truly ashamed that the scenario I painted was not as hypothetical as I'd like to pretend.

Mistaking a Mercedes for a Toyota

In the midst of a crazy week, humor reappeared unexpectedly, providing a few laughs for unsuspecting bystanders. Last Monday while running errands in the city, I almost ran off with the wrong husband. The sidewalk was extremely narrow, and when a car pulled up close beside me, somehow I got it in my scattered brain that my dh* [see "Jamie Jo Speak" in sidebar] had arrived to pick me up.

It's a good thing the door was locked. A man in another car further up the road, who turned out to be dh, was honking to divert my attention just as I was leaning down to see why on earth my husband-who-wasn't-my-husband was refusing to unlock the passenger door. A handsome middle-aged man shrugged and smiled apologetically, instantly shaking me from my daze.

On Thursday, dh and I were telling a friend about my many episodes of not being very observant when it comes to cars, how in high school I offended a rich boy by mistaking his Mercedes for a Toyota, and how not so many years ago I drove my mom's new car to the grocery store without noticing the color or make of the car in the dark garage before leaving, only to panic in the parking lot after shopping when I realized I no clue which car was "mine."

The very next day after recounting these embarrassing stories, Friday night, I was helping the same friend with a Mother's Day outreach to pregnant moms at a Christian birth center. She lent me keys so I could get supplies from her car. Going to the street, I went straight to the car with the Texas license plate (something I do notice!), and was frustrated that the key did not fit in the lock. Figuring I only had the ignition key, I squinted (minus reading glasses) to locate the unlock icon on the key ring (a handy trick I learned when I lost my mom's car). Even that didn't work.

As I stood there obviously perplexed, an amused spectator kindly pointed out that each time I pressed the unlock button, another car—a red car nothing remotely like the one I was attempting to open—would flash its headlights. Oops. What are the odds of having two cars parked on the same street in Oaxaca with Texas plates? The man, however, looked at me like I was nuts. Who in the world doesn't notice the difference between a red and a.... I still couldn't tell you the color of the first car. It was some strikingly non-red color like blue or silver or gray.

A while back we were discussing the question "How do you keep from losing you?" We were referring to the person we used to be before going to the field. Incidents like these prove that maybe I haven't lost "me" as much as I thought. I've grown and changed through the trials and challenges life has supplied, and hopefully the essence of who I am is more Christ-like than before, but deep down I am still the same space cadet* I was as a teen. Like certain pesky sins, some traits plague us throughout our life, no matter where we live.

IRL* Then again, maybe it's a wonder I haven't lost myself; I lose enough other things!
*What we used to call scatterbrains before they invented ADD.

Time Travel

Why do I find it so difficult to live in the present?

Maybe I'm just not busy enough, or maybe I'm not disciplined enough to remain in the here-and-now. For some reason I forever find myself either rewinding the tape to relive, examine, and critique scenes from my past, or else I am fast-forwarding it to pre-play future events, trying out different possible scenarios.

For instance, I picture myself staying here in Mexico, growing old together with Methuselah*, and having grandchildren take turns coming to visit during the summer. I'll show them all the places their parents used to play, and read our favorite stories to them. (At this point in my pondering, if I'm ever careless enough to wonder aloud, Jim, I mean Methuselah, will jump in with some ridiculous comment like, "What will you serve for lunch that day?" or "What outfit will you be wearing?") Argh.

An alternate ending I dream up (usually after he bursts my bubble with some stupid remark) is of me as a widow living out the remainder of my old age in some unknown location. This particular ending gets less frightening the more I preview it. There is no terror in facing the uncertainty of the future because whenever I fast-forward the tape, in spite of all the blank scenes and potential tragedies, the one constant feature is that Jesus is always by my side. I take great comfort in that.

I used to joke about writing my entire life story in advance and then complaining about my kids' refusal to follow the script! (They were all going to be the perfect kids, and I, of course, the perfect mom....) Actually it's twice as fun my way, because I can dream and imagine one ending, and then enjoy the real story as it unfolds. God's story is always better than my imaginary one. Imperfect kids and mothers are more colorful and genuine than perfect ones.

How about you? Have you ever done mental gymnastics like burning your house down and then imagining which things you would miss if you lost them forever? Have you ever peeked into the future, not liked what you saw, and then made some changes to avoid turning into that person, or to avoid facing that preventable problem? Or just flitted to the past or future simply to find joy that eludes you in the present?

Then again maybe the rest of you are too busy to play these zany games. In your defense, living one day at a time is actually scriptural. And look hard enough, you’ll find plenty of joy and even hilarity right in front of you. No time travel required. Maybe I’ll try living in the present tense for a while, and stop dreaming about driver’s licenses I don’t have yet.

What a novel idea.

IRL*fast-forward or rewind, I'm still pushing "play."

*please refer to sidebar dictionary [Jamie Jo-speak] for the definition of starred item.