Tag: choices

Freedom Documentation

One of my greatest treasures is dozens of little pieces of paper from my Dad. Cartoons he cut out from the newspaper. Thoughts he wrote down and stuck in my purse or laptop bag. Notes from sermons that he wanted to focus on and that he tucked into the bibles he eventually gave us. Little messages from him that I saved over the years and recently went back through as I mentally prepared for Father’s Day.

A three-time Vietnam Vet’s commentary on my date’s attire: “Last time I saw someone wearing something like this I bushwhacked him in the jungle.”

Some were funnies or just hearts expressing love and some were reminders that I could always, always come home. But most are lessons – lessons that are fundamental and yet have different meanings at each life stage and event. Lessons that grow with you, as you grow. I’ve started thinking about them as his constitution. The Constitution of Dad.

Pray every day. Eeeeeeeevery day, he’d say, making sure I knew that the frequency is important. Pray Psalms 91. Pray the prayers in Ephesians. If you don’t know what to pray, just say the name of Jesus over and over. Praying allows God to work. And praying doesn’t change God’s mind, it changes ours.

The longer you wait before making a u-turn, the more costly it is in every way. Sometimes we get on the wrong path. We’re certain it’s right until we know it’s not. It happens to literally everyone. And most importantly, it’s not a disaster. Even if it costs you money or you lose a little time to go back or hop over onto another path, this is money and time well spent.

Let everyone be wrong. About you, about situations, about anything. Your peace is what’s most important and it’s your job to hold on to it. Good humans will admit when they are wrong and reach out to you. You need to admit when you’re wrong and reach out to people.

Be honest, with everyone but most importantly with yourself. See things as they are and not as you want them to be or as you wish others would see them. If you cheat on that test, you did not earn an A or finish first – you behaved in a way to gain something. If you do something halfway, you deserve the C. Cheating and short-cutting will always hurt you more than anyone else.

What you refuse to surrender, you will eventually surrender to. Anger. Addiction. Unforgiveness. Fear. Insecurity. Expecting anything other than what God has promised.

You gotta clean out your mind regularly. Think about what you are thinking about. Just like you tell your hand what to do, you tell your brain what to do. You choose what thoughts to keep and what thoughts to toss. About yourself and about others. If you allow your mind to focus on negative thoughts, you will feel and speak that way. And if you fill your mind with thoughts only about yourself, you won’t be of any use to anyone for anything – especially God.

Do not limit God. With your words, your deeds or your thoughts. And our words have power, so always be mindful of what words come out of your mouth.

Looking at his notes that most spoke to me, all spread out on my living room floor, I realized the common theme is they are paths to or instructions for living freely. There’s even a note on the inside cover of one of his bibles that says Get On With Life.

Like Thomas Jefferson’s reference to our country’s living and breathing document to help guide a nation to “establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity,” the Constitution of Dad is my guide to living in freedom.

My Dad and baby Ella. A girl Dad and a girl Papa.

June 20, 2023
Freedom Thoughts

Today began before the sun fully came up, with loud noises and flashing lights. An ambulance at a neighbor’s house immediately had me praying, and also immediately transported me to the night my Dad died and how the world looked as I arrived at my parents’ house.

Red flashes. Red is the color of stop. Red is the color of danger. My eyes filled with tears as my heart filled with heaviness.

And just as quickly as the heaviness came, the urge to choose a direction filled my mind. A deeply ingrained habit, a gift my Dad gave me, to be mindful of the direction of my thoughts and emotions.

My Dad’s gift came in the form of a book – for me, a life-changing book. I first read Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer as a young adult, when I desperately needed freedom from fear. And although its pages have countless lessons, the most important one for me is this: I am in control of all my thoughts and I choose which thoughts to dwell on and which ones to discard.

This morning I had a choice to focus on praying for someone else or on sadness, grief, and fear. I chose praying for someone else. But as I’m human and all up in my feelings right now, an hour later and for the rest of the day I was focused on and looking back over my scribblings about fear and progress and the year of freedom.

When I think back on all the times in my life where fear had the most power, I had at some point made a choice to walk with or in forces that did not embrace light in the same way I did or needed to. For me, freedom is in the light. I am the strongest when I use my free will, my freedom, to choose light. I am the strongest when I surround myself with other people who choose light.

Are light and love interchangeable here? As in Light and Love? That brings me full circle to Mat Kearney’s Closer to Love, a song that can transport me back to the smells and sounds of CHKD halls just as fast as those lights this morning transported me back to 3 weeks ago.

She got the call today
One out of the gray
And when the smoke cleared
It took her breath away
She said she didn’t believe
It could happen to me
I guess we’re all one phone call
From our knees

But that song and those memories all have a happy ending now. A light associated with them. A love associated with them. A freedom associated with them.

I’ve been looking for my eagle, a symbol of freedom, and still haven’t seen her since my Dad went to heaven. I think she holds some sort of secret I am supposed to unlock. A behavior I am supposed to learn from. But until I see her, I’m stuck with Google and bird websites to try and figure it out. What I know with certainty so far is this: in order to fly, birds or planes must have a balance of forces. NASA has really complicated ways of explaining this but Toni Morrison says it so simply: You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

March 14, 2023
Keeping Myself Honest

My journal entry from January 19, 2014, was called Keeping Myself Honest. I wrote it and then shared it because I really wanted to not wimp out and I thought I might.

I have been thinking about going back to church.

Since Audrey was born, I’ve only been a couple of times – early on to show everyone we were OK, then once a year later to have her baptized.

Some people know I haven’t been attending and some people don’t. I’m ashamed of it, so I’m pretty good at hiding it. Truthfully, I think I am closer to God now than I have ever been. I pray about everything, all the time. I just don’t go to church right now.

Why did I have Audrey baptized in a church I haven’t been attending? Tradition?

Because I still believe in God. And because I want to cover her with some sort of protection shield – she’s God’s child, so with that protection she can’t be sick or overtaken by illness.

But God’s children sometimes do get sick. I, of course, know that. I’ve seen people much more faithful than I who had a much sicker child than mine was. People much more faithful that lost their child. People with no faith at all, or who have the “wrong” God, whose children got a horrible diagnosis but were healed – or who never even were sick! So who did something right and who did something wrong? Why were some people’s children healed and some not? Was it luck of the draw? Is it something the parents did or did not do? What is the secret? And why haven’t I under covered it yet?

I was a pretty good pregnant person – I didn’t eat junk all day, didn’t smoke, etc. Yet people who treated their bodies horribly were having healthy children while Audrey was in the NICU. People who didn’t want children were having healthy children. I’ll admit I wasn’t a happy pregnant person. I didn’t feel well and I was grumpy to say the least. Was that it? But then why Audrey – I was the same way with Ella and she’s fine.

Was it the oats I sowed in my younger years? Perhaps I was being punished for those. Was it the cheese I ate, the painting we did in her room, the water I drank from the tap, the chemicals in my lawn, or the fact that I laid more on my left side than my right?

Was I not really as good of a Christian as I thought? Was God disappointed in me? And if so, seriously, was THIS the punishment?

No, of course not. I *think* I have finally resolved that the answer is pretty simple. We live in an imperfect world, and sometimes really crappy things happen. It just is. Some people lose their children and some people don’t. Some people have children with medical issues and some don’t.

So why not go back to church after this epiphany? Because of intense emotions. Shame. Anger. Thankfulness. Sadness. Love. The desire for anonymity.

Shame: I have spent a lot of time wondering what I did to bring on the cancer diagnosis for my child. Other people have to wonder the same thing. How horrible must they think I have been at some point in my life?

Anger: I have been a Christian my entire life. Not that anyone deserves a cancer diagnosis, but seriously this is what I get? Aren’t I owed something a little better than that?

Thankfulness: I am so grateful, every moment of every day, that Audrey is healthy. When I walk into the building that we call church, sometimes I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that my eyes fill with tears. Just as I don’t know what I did to deserve the diagnosis, I also don’t know what I did to deserve the miracle of healing. It is humbling, to say the least.

Sadness and Love: These two are uniquely tied. There are people at church that truly care about me, that I have known my entire life. They sent me cards/texts/messages that conveyed their love and hope and faith, and I cherish each one. But what I can’t get out of my memory is the looks on their faces during those early days. They would see me and immediately their countenance would change. I could see their pity, and I still hate that. I could see their sadness and concern, and I am still overwhelmed by it.

Anonymity: Sometimes I think it would be great to just meet all new people who didn’t know and who wouldn’t make me feel all these emotions. Do people know I will never be the same again and would the people I grew up with be disappointed by that? Is that a failure, not getting back to your old self? Does everyone see us through the lens of the cancer Audrey had? Of that time in our lives. Do I? I think maybe I do and that frustrates me.

Did you notice that I didn’t say “Audrey’s cancer?” That was purposeful. I don’t want to speak anything negative or even slightly acknowledge in my speech that the cancer is Audrey’s. It most definitely is not. Call it superstitious. Or call it the southern Pentecostal belief that words have power and can work for good or bad. Call it neurotic or silly or sad. I believe it’s a bit of all of it, and frankly if I read somewhere that a daily ritual of hopping on one leg while singing Mary Had A Little Lamb had worked to keep someone else’s child cancer-free I would probably do that, too, just in case.

I am thinking about going back to church, because I need to be fed. I am thinking about going back to church because Ella and Audrey are missing out on something that is an important and fun part of childhood. I am thinking about going back to church because Ella is asking more and more questions I need help answering. I am thinking about going back to church because I think this range of emotions may never go away, or at the very least will not get better without exposure over time. I am thinking about going back to church because I can now give support and not just take support. I am thinking about going back to church simply because I miss it. I am thinking about going back to church because I’ve realized that there’s not a point at which I will be my old self again, and that that’s not a weakness.

I am sharing this simply to keep myself honest. I am going back to church and am not going to wimp out.

Thankful I did not wimp out – I am stronger and better and happier because of it. Thankful that God did not – and will never – give up on me. Thankful that Audrey is a cancer survivor. Thankful for all the people who supported us and loved on us during those early years – many of whom I still get to hug on Sundays (they must be tired of waiting for me to get to real adulthood). Thankful that my girls both love Jesus, and for all the people in their village who teach them and guide them and pray for them. Thankful for the beautiful historical building that is my church and for the beautiful group of people who are my church – whether we are gathered together in person or online, the words of Matthew always come to mind: “where two or three are gathered together in my name, I am there among them.”

January 20, 2022
It’s All Of Us, Too

It’s complicated.

How I feel about Biden and Afghanistan and the world is complicated.

Biden really screwed up.

Why are we still even in a country that we invaded because we wanted Bin Laden? We got him a decade ago. No answer anyone gives me will suffice because the truth is – outside of heated moments just after 9/11 when I really wanted retribution – I have always kind-of been an isolationist, against our country’s crusade-ish tendencies and angered by the thought that young men and women go off to fight in wars that aren’t ever about what politicians say they are about. I support our troops 100 percent. The people who get to send them out to do their bidding? Not so much.

Every president in my lifetime, maybe every president ever, has blood on their hands. The blood of 13 soldiers and hundreds of Afghans this week, the blood in Beirut in the 1980s, and the blood of the people living under the Shah we put back in power in the 1960s, and the blood of Kansans during their own civil war in the 1850s, and even the blood of a half a million U.S. citizens who’ve died from a virus we lied about and didn’t protect people from.

It’s easy to play Monday morning quarterback. I don’t have all the information and I’ve never had to make decisions of such magnitude, but it just seems like we could have done some things differently. I don’t think we could have pulled such a large number of people out of any turmoil-filled country without casualties, but that doesn’t make what happened this week feel like less of a fail. Colin Powell quoted No battle plan survives contact with the enemy and perhaps that’s why we’re here today – failure to accurately predict and plan for all possible outcomes.

It’s heartbreaking, learning the stories of these soldiers – kids really – who were in a land very far away, helping to save the lives of strangers and trying to protect themselves and their comrades. It was all the more poignant for me this week because we were traveling around DC seeing federal buildings and museums, monuments and memorials. I was in my element – a history buff talking about the accomplishments or inventions of great Americans, some well-known and some unknown, in ways that I hoped would be interesting at 16 and 10. But as I looked down the wall of names etched in granite at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, it struck me that those were the names of my Dad’s comrades. And that he was a young soldier once, in a land very far away.

“All of these people died?” Ella said. Yes, tens of thousands of people. It was a long war and it was the first televised war, where the American people had a small glimpse into what happens when they send their sons off to war. There was a lot of conflict about whether or not we should stay the course but one of the lessons I hope we learned is that it doesn’t matter whether or not we agree with the decisions of our leaders, we must always always always support the young people they send out into the world – who dedicate years of their lives to serving our country and our people, and who are committed to freedom for people everywhere.

The girls at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Just like everyone else on social media, I know pretty much nothing about what really happened this week and all the factors that led us to this point. And yet still I can’t shake the feeling that we could have done better. Maybe I’m all up in my feelings, but Biden really screwed up this exit. I won’t defend someone I voted for simply because I don’t want to admit that my candidate isn’t perfect or I was wrong. Our votes are complicated, or at least mine sometimes are. The truth is I’d vote for Biden again, given the same choices – my vote was for health care and against a man who abuses women. But I don’t feel good about it today.

As I stood at the wall staring at tens of thousands of names, I said a quick prayer for all the people who loved them. Their lives were forever changed – because of the decisions of politicians, because of evil in the world, and even because of the ballots cast by voters. I believe all of us will one day be accountable for our votes (or lack of participation in that regard), and I feel that responsibility today. It’s not just presidents who have blood on their hands – it’s all of us, too.

Help us, O God, to remember that we are Americans, united not by race, or religion, or blood, but to our commitment to freedom and justice for all. When we focus on ourselves, when we fight each other, when we forget you: Forgive us. When we presume that our greatness and our prosperity is ours alone: Forgive us. When we fail to treat our fellow human beings and all the earth with the respect that they deserve: Forgive us. And as we face these difficult days ahead, may we have a new birth of clarity in our aims, responsibility in our actions, humility in our approaches, and civility in our attitudes, even when we differ. Help us to share, to serve, and to seek the common good of all. May all people of goodwill today join together to work for a more just, a more healthy, and a more prosperous nation and a peaceful planet. And may we never forget that one day all nations, and all people, will stand accountable before you. ~ Rick Warren, 2009

August 28, 2021
You’re Way Too Old For This

Supposedly, it happens to the best of us. The words that made us roll our eyes when we were 12 come out of us, directed at the next generation of children…who inwardly roll their eyes at us.

You’re way too old for this I recently said. And almost immediately thought ugh, I hated hearing that.

You’re way too old for this was one of my Dad’s phrases, and I guess it’s now one of mine. So perhaps the days leading up to Father’s Day were the perfect time to reflect on the things in my life that I am way too old to still be dancing around or allowing, or not admitting or not dealing with.

Sometimes what we think is wrong. It happens to all of us. That’s why we have to think about what we think. Which brings me to another gem of my Dad’s. THINK about what you’re thinking and thinking about, Beth. And think about what you’re putting into your mind. I think at sixteen, he probably just wanted me to stop listening to Madonna, but those lessons are still important at 47 – and it turns out that when I think about it, there are several things I am way too old for.

I am under no obligation to listen to a steaming pile of wrongness. The moment we realize how off-base or wrong someone is, it’s OK for us to stop them right there – to protect the space in our brains and hearts, so our time isn’t wasted, and/or to stop others around us from being hurt, distracted, angered or upset by ridiculousness. We might sometimes choose to hear the whole thing out, but we’re not required to. Politeness does not make one a nice or good human. We don’t owe anyone an audience, and we’re not bad humans if we don’t give all words or energy a space in our brain.

I don’t have to have people in my life who contribute negativity. I am also way too old for that. No matter who they are, or how good they are in other ways, or how long I’ve known them, I can wish people well and not have them in my day to day life – and that’s OK.

I am also too old to continue thinking I can change or control other people. We can’t threaten or will or shame people into making decisions we think are best for themselves or those around them. We also can’t legislate people into being good or into heaven.

Sometimes what is wrong for us, from caffeine after 4 pm to a beer after work to taking a knee to owning a gun, is OK or even right for others. I am way too old to be assuming the way I need or want to live or behave is the only right or good way.

I disconnected from a number of people in the last election cycle because I could not see past their vote to see or recall the goodness in them. That was a mistake, and I am way too old to forget to focus on the goodness that is in most people. We all are so much more than our votes, mistakes, neighborhoods, family structures, job titles, and perhaps even what we and others think.

I am way too old to be living in an unreal LaLa Land, where I embrace what I want to be true instead of what is. I can have hope and goals while still being realistic about where I am or where we are. I have a child who battles anxiety and instead of thinking I can manage or love that away, I must take action to help her and us so we can all live our best lives. I have a child who’s driving and will go off to college in just two short years – I can keep her from ever leaving the house to keep her safe or I can prepare her to navigate the world, and to have fun while taking some risks, and to love herself anyway when she makes mistakes.

I am way too old to be putting off some of the items on my bucket list. I am way too old to be making excuses for not getting out to walk or taking the stairs. And I am way too old to not be honest with myself about my mistakes and where I need to be better.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I may have been rolling my eyes, but I was listening. I’m just still a work in progress, while it seems like you’ve been a finished product my whole life. The youth bible you gave me when I started high school, that’s been old and worn for quite some time, still stays right on my nightstand with my more adult translation – because I am way too old to still be doing a lot of things, and because one thing I’m never too old for is reading and thinking about the scriptures you spoke and speak into my life, and that you highlighted and underlined for me.

June 20, 2021