May the Fourth Be With You!!

I should be writing a paper right now, but instead… well, here I am.

If you thought from the title that this blog would be related in any way to Star Wars, I apologize for the ensuing disappointment. (If you desire, feel free to find parallels, but that’s really not the point.)

The past month has been pretty rough and tumble for me and a few people close to me. Things got incredibly busy, we’ve been sick, we’ve been stressed, we’ve had strain on important relationships… April was rough.

Turning over a new page on the calendar, thinking May will be a nice, fresh start, I came home May 1^st and found our house ransacked, the back door swinging in the night breeze, and one of our cats missing.

My first thought when I realized someone had gone through my bedroom was: 

I hope they left here more aware of God than when they came in. I’m glad He was here to meet them in the Scriptures on my walls. I’m glad He’s here with us now. And I’m glad He is good.

Throughout that evening, as I went through the motions of making a police report and as I rode the adrenaline rush with my roommate and a good friend into the not-so-wee hours of the morning, I didn’t pray deliberately, but there was a deepened sense of God-consciousness and an incredible peace that came with that. I was scared and frustrated; I felt violated and vulnerable (particularly knowing our back door was no better than precariously closed). But I also felt a wave of compassion and sorrow for whoever it was that broke into our house and frantically searched for items that could easily turn into cash. Listening to others expressing anger and a desire to retaliate… I didn’t. I don’t. I want better for them than the life they’re living and I hope they will experience a more significant change of heart and path than that which comes through retaliatory hostility.

I want for them the radical transformation that comes through encountering the God who IS love.

My parents want me to move someone safer. Everyone is talking about installing security systems and motion sensors. People have started telling us lots of stories about having their cars and houses broken into.

True, we will move forward differently and take some wise precautions. But I hope that rather than descending into the spiraling fear and frustration of dwelling on the brokenness of our world and of this city God loves,

Perhaps you will join me in praying for restoration.

For those living in the constant uncertainty and insecurity of poverty

For those driven by desperation and hopelessness to steal and destroy

For those who have lost much

For those who fear to

Pray for God’s kingdom to be ushered in here in Memphis, not to replace what is but to restore it to its intended glory.

Now, as we continue on, May the Fourth be with us J i.e. may the God of all comfort and wisdom guide us to live, work, and speak in accordance with His character and will, that His kingdom may come in fuller measure.

Admitting failure and receiving grace

Well, it happened. I fell on my face.

I stepped in, ran hard, and got sick. Say goodbye to my great plan of being super-productive, efficient, and cheerful! Say hello to calling in sick, barely making it through class, and staring blankly at computer screens when I have too much to do.

The reality crept in slowly. You cannot fulfill all of the commitments you have made. It is physically and emotionally impossible.

Memories of the last time I faced this reality caused my chest to tighten with anxiety.

I made a commitment. I signed a contract. They really need me. They have trusted me. I said YES to them. I can’t back out now. I can’t believe this has happened again. There must be a way to press on and plow through.
Tiffany, it’s not possible.

The last time I found myself in a similar (but less flexible) situation, I initiated a conversation with my supervisor (a Christian), hoping to find a degree of understanding and sympathy about the demands of school on my time. “Can’t do it.” That’s where it started, but it devolved into something much uglier. He sought to shame me into choosing them, into walking away from school. I left, crushed and disappointed, but still unable to make the impossible possible and still convicted (even now) that school needed to take precedence.

Those memories still fresh and painful, I wrestled through this current situation with my Father and sought the opinions of my dad and a couple trusted friends. This time, as in December, all were in agreement: It’s not possible to do everything, and school wins. You have to talk to your managers.

But God, I committed to do this thing…

I can’t just walk away.

I will plow through… Right?

I really don’t want to have this conversation with them.

See what they say.

I don’t want to.

Why?

…because they will show kindness, understanding, mercy, and love.

Yes. Yes they will. When you admit your failure in humility and truth.

But I don’t deserve that.

Oh. I’m Jonah (sort of), refusing to obey because I believe the Ninevites are unworthy of God’s mercy. Who are the Ninevites? Huh. Oh. Me. I’m the Ninevites (sort of), in over my head and in need of a sudden and drastic shift in course. I’m Jonah and the Ninevites at the same time, needing to change course and repent but unwilling to grant myself the opportunity to experience mercy and grace. (Not a perfect comparison, but definitely a compelling application of this week's minor prophet.)

I stepped into my executive director’s office this morning, and he cheerfully started talking with me about ways to get me launched and running as a salesperson. He was excited as he laid out possible ways to facilitate my growth, apologizing as he went for the lack of training I’ve received up to this point… and I tried so hard to stay present with him, to be excited about the possibilities to grow. But anxiety grabbed my shoulders and tears filled my eyes.

Sensing his discomfort and confusion, I offered to interpret: “I would like to explain to you why I’m crying right now. Between school and this new job and getting sick this week… I am sinking. I would love to talk with you about some ways to reduce my commitment here this month…  I am so sorry I am not able to follow through when I committed to work with you guys on this.”

He ran to get me tissues, and as he came back, these were the words he had for me:
“You know, you really need to think about what will be best for you. We love you here, we consider you an asset, and we really just want you to be happy. So whatever we need to do, let’s do it.”

Speechless and wanting to weep, I uttered a most heartfelt thanks.

I did not deserve that response. And I got it twice, once from the executive director and once from the director of sales. Grace and love are powerful.

I’m grateful for this tangible reminder of the gift of God’s forgiveness, and brokenhearted to admit that I am not always so conscious of it.

Teachable moment!

Part of the process of counselor training is learning the art of self-care and boundaries. Walking forward, I would like to take with me the wisdom to seek counsel on big (also medium and smallish) decisions from people who will be willing to cut through my enthusiasm to help me consider things more fully. I just get so excited with people about things they're doing that sometimes my enthusiasm leads me down too many paths at the same time.

Here’s to the learning process.

And here’s to the God of grace and Father of mercies who never ceases to amaze.

The Fear of Falling on My Face

“Have you blogged recently?”

No. I haven’t. But I should… but I don’t have time.

That’s what I said earlier tonight in answer to a good question from a good friend.

I have spent the past couple of days in a frenzy of stress and anxiety. To hearken back to a metaphor all too familiar last year:

There is too much on my plate.

And I am terrified of failing (defined by me as doing less than my very best).

but GOD

has kind words. Today (and yesterday and the day before that and also the one before that) He has had words for me (and now you, too!) from Brennan Manning’s The Ragamuffin Gospel:

“Each of us pays a heavy price for our fear of falling flat on our faces. It assures the progressive narrowing of our personalities and prevents exploration and experimentation. As we get older we do only the things we do well. There is no growth in Christ Jesus without some difficulty and fumbling. If we are going to keep on growing, we must keep on risking failure throughout our lives…

“You know, in spite of the fact that Christianity speaks of the cross, redemption, and sin, we’re unwilling to admit failure in our own lives. Why? Partly because it’s human nature’s defense mechanism against its own inadequacies. But even more so, it’s because of the successful image our culture demands of us.”

I have a fear of not being successful. I have a fear of falling flat on my face. (I think I’ve even used that phrase in the past couple of weeks.) That fear of falling flat on my face is driving me to do things like:

worry so much about getting things done that I hesitate or refuse to spend time with people I love;

work so much I don’t properly care for my body, resulting in incredibly painful tension headaches;

hold so much anxiety about work and school that I am unpleasant and short with others;

and talk more about things on my to-do list than Jesus, who is awesome and deserves infinite praise, honor, and glory.

Brennan concludes the above thought with this statement: “The Christian with depth is the person who has failed and has learned to live with it.”

I have failed this week. I have failed to live in the Light of God's glory and in the freedom purchased for me on the cross. I have failed to resist the lie that this world is what ultimately matters, the lie that my value is determined by how well I perform or even how much effort I put forth. 

The truth is that even if I walked away from all of my responsibilities and started treating people like dirt,

I wouldn’t deserve God

any less

than if I lived up to all of my ridiculously high, perfectionistic standards.

I would still fall far short of His standard.

That is why He came. That is why He died.

Jesus has offered us an invitation to come home with Him, to be forever with God our Creator. THAT is what ultimately matters. And through Jesus (NOT by any effort, work, or brilliant insight of our own) we can have that.

As I reflect on this reality, I realize that falling on our faces is not something we should fear. It is something we ought to practice daily, that is, if we recognize and understand the glory of God. It is when we fall on our faces, humble and repentant, that we can arise clothed in grace, stand in the strength of Jesus, and walk by the Spirit.

My goal for April was to make it through April without falling on my face.

My new goal for April is to fall on my face every day, knowing that only by the grace of God do I have life and breath and strength for today.

Reflections on Serving Seniors with Love

Two weeks ago, I started working two jobs at a local retirement community. Several nights a week and occasional weekend days I can be found at the reception desk doing all sorts of things, including answering the phone and responding to emergency pages from residents. When I’m not acting as receptionist, I can be found upstairs waiting tables with a bowtie and a smile. The other day at lunch, one of the residents asked me my name and proceeded to tell me all about the other Tiffany who just started working at the desk downstairs and “Isn’t it incredible that two Tiffanys started working here at the same time!” We had a good laugh when she paused for me to explain that I’m the same person. J

After lunch today, I met a wonderful older lady (which I realize is not uncommon in my line of work.) She had such a sweet smile, but she looked so tired. She let me know that she hadn’t had lunch yet and that she was hoping to get some food. I gave her what she needed to get some lunch, and we exchanged a few more kind words. The light turned green and I drove away as she made her way slowly back to the sidewalk with her cardboard sign.

Tears welled in my eyes as I reflected on the prior two hours of serving gourmet lunches to the residents I have so grown to love. What I would have given to have been able to offer her what they had eaten...

I love that our residents are offered kindness, respect, and loving care. It is my pleasure every day to do everything in my power to honor, enjoy, and serve the residents with whom I work, and I look forward to becoming better able to bless them as I learn their names and their needs.

And I hate that this woman’s financial situation excludes her from such treatment. It was my honor to speak briefly with her, and I regret that I did not find a way to offer her more than a few kind words and the means to buy food.

There is a tragic imbalance in the treatment of rich and poor, and I am reminded of James’s words:

My brethren, do not hold your faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ with an attitude of personal favoritism. For if a man comes into your assembly with a gold ring and dressed in fine clothes, and there also comes in a poor man in dirty clothes, and you pay special attention to the one who is wearing the fine clothes, and say, “You sit here in a good place,” and you say to the poor man, “You stand over there, or sit down by my footstool,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil motives? Listen, my beloved brethren: did not God choose the poor of this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which He promised to those who love Him? But you have dishonored the poor man. (James 2:1-6, NASB).

I am convicted by this.  

I know what my company does is a very good thing and I am incredibly blessed to work there, but there are too many people in Memphis and all over the world who are unseen and dishonored in their poverty. Lots to ponder and pray.

A Few Good Things

What awaited me on the other side of my drive was:

•  a job interview (and a job!) with people who seem completely lovely, 
•  good friends who have happily adopted me for the week, 
• and  a very sweet girl in Cooper Young who is now my housemate.

And all of that within 36 hours of my arrival in Memphis! I’m so thankful to God for the awesome ways in which He has strengthened me to walk in the unknown, as well as for the abundant kindness with which He has provided.

Job and classes don’t start for another week, so in the meantime I will enjoy the unseasonably warm rain and enjoy this city and the people who live here!  : )

Okay, here we go... back to Memphis!!

My room is in chaos. There are Christmas decorations and “seasonally appropriate animals” festively strewn about my room, there’s a packed suitcase, an empty suitcase, and things all around me that will soon be in boxes (hopefully). My animals sit happily in my window, suggesting to the world outside that this room is full of peace and delight and rest. It is. But I’m moving.

I’m moving to Memphis.

Still the thought of it is surreal, and I keep waiting for the moment I realize it was crazy and I'm not actually moving. I know I’ve done this before, but it’s not the same. This time is very different for two main reasons: 1) I don’t know when I’m coming back, and 2) two weeks ago I thought I would be in Colorado until June-ish.

A whirlwind of change accelerated me through the holidays, and I sit here on January 2 feeling like it is still December 5.

I think I know where I will live, and I have prospects for jobs. But if I’m being honest with myself, I really have no idea what is about to happen. All I know is that it is time. That phrase kept coming up as I prayed and spoke with people. It is time. It’s a gentle and exciting invitation to step now into what I thought was coming back in August.

What awaits me on the other side of Friday’s drive? I haven’t the slightest, but I know God well enough to believe that it will be lovely and good and challenging and… awesome. Even if I fail big time and have to move back home after a month, I am ready and excited to go. It is absolutely worth it to try, and I am deeply grateful to have my family and friends here behind me, sad to see me go but more than that: excited to see what God has in store down this road.

Speaking of the road, Rhonda (the Honda) had a flat tire last night, but after minor surgery (at midnight – thanks Dad) and a trip to the mechanic for a new tire, full inspection, and re-alignment, my noble steed is running as well as ever in all of her 112,000-mile glory!

It’s time to finish packing, to say final goodbyes, and to embrace with reckless abandon this new adventure.

 Happy new year!