Joy is a Choice

This particular day in lockdown felt like it could sting. My daughter turned 21 and we could not celebrate it the way we had planned, the family was all separated and not able to be together.  COVID has affected us all in so many difficult, tragic and inconvenient ways. Some we can laugh off and let it go, some that sting. I know there has been much pain and loss for so many and the question is how we face it and move forward. 

 

It is when we feel separated, isolated, on the outside looking in, restricted even from human touch, or completely cut off which can happen in multiple ways; that grief, panic, anxiety, fear and tears and anger can take a hold. 

 

I wrote on my daughter’s card: 

 

“This is not the day we planned, but we are learning this is the day we have. Live it well, make the best of each moment and today, like any other day can be a happy one” 

 

A day that could have stung, ended up having some lovely highs, because we chose to make the best of little moments that we could have. The isolation made me more aware of the things that are most precious and allowed me to grieve more deeply for what I no longer have. Most importantly, I did not let the pain and loss destroy the joy.

 

As one so much wiser than me said: 

 

“Joy is possible even amid great labours – the labour of dying, the labour birthing, and the labours between. We cannot force it. But we can create moments to breathe through labour pains and surrender our senses to the present moment, notice the colours and light and feeling of being alive, here, together, joy comes more easily…….Joy returns us to everything good and beautiful and worth fighting for…joy is the gift of love: it makes the labour an end it itself. I believe labouring in joy is the meaning of life” (Valarie Kaur, 2020)

 

I reminisced where I was 21 years ago when my daughter was born and pondered on all that I had back then.  During the ‘actual’ labour, there were so many moments of joy that I took for granted, that now feel lost amidst complication and pain. 

I know this day could have gone many ways. I had the choice to bring joy or pain, grief or laughter, possibilities or giving up, love or pity, grace or unforgiveness, prickly or soft, hope or hopelessness. Every moment was a choice. Every moment is a choice. And often it is not a choice I can make in my own strength.

This is not the life I planned, but I am learning that this is the life I have…………I choose to live it well, to make the most of each moment and choose today and each day from now on, that there will be happy moments again. 

 

“Performance of joy while the wounds are still being inflicted is not a display of otherworldly strength. It is an act of faith that God will not give us more than we can bear”. (R. Rohr, 2021)

 

I am thankful for my loving Heavenly Father who holds me up every step of the way. I would not and could not, do it in my own strength. I know we all have those days that sting, those times when life throws you something that seems too hard to bear, when the day or life you planned falls apart.  It is in these moments we must choose to believe that that ‘labouring in joy IS the meaning of life.’

 

 

 

 

 

Are our Churches/Children just “seedless watermelons”?

I have always been fascinated with trees. They are so beautiful and majestic.  Each country has its  own unique trees and Jamaica is no exception.

I was stopped by an impressive tree. It was large and strong, the roots were clearly deep as well as coming out in all directions. There was a smaller plant right beside it, being shadowed by it and growing up healthy and strong beside it. The large tree had beautiful reddish fruit on it, which I soon found out was a “Jamaican apple”. 

There are so many things I learn from trees and nature. God challenges me every time with new things. I was given the apple to eat and it was very different to an apple in Australia. It was soft and almost pear/peach like in texture, but it was white and fluffy. As I was enjoying the fruit, I noticed it had a large hard seed in the middle.

Psalm 1 says “but those whose delight is in the Law of the Lord, and who mediates on His Law day and night, that person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season.”

Leadership, parenting … these are challenging things. They require much delighting in God’s word and His truth to be able to yield fruit. How I long to yield fruit! As I ate the apple, being such a new experience, I loved the reminder of how nourishing fruit can be and how precious it is to be able to bear fruit for others to enjoy. How important it is that we as leaders and parents actually produce fruit that sustains others, that we focus on how we attract and sustain those we lead, and make sure our fruit is appetising enough that they want to eat it. Which is hard these days, as there are so many other options than a healthy piece of fruit, which are available all the time, not just in season.  You know how horrible it can be when you eat fruit that is out of season, and that just can’t compete with the many other sweet and now artificial options that our children and people would much rather eat than healthy and natural fruit. 

But this big large seed that I was left with, caught my attention. It was hard and strong and significant. Of course you can’t eat it, so we often throw it away after eating the fruit. Well, at least in the western world we do. So, as I was about to throw it away, I realised that this is such an important part of the fruit.  Without the seed, there is not new and sustaining life. The seed needs to be replanted for it to grow. 

It is one thing for me as a leader or parent to delight in the Lord so that I may grow and yield fruit, but if that fruit is not then taken, consumed and replanted, its enjoyment and value only lasts for moments. Very quickly we find we want more and more of the light fluffy flesh without understanding the fruit has a seed of replenishing life that is important to be replanted for life to continue. 

It made me consider in Western Society how much we love

the “Seedless Watermelon”, a recent human creation to make the fruit easy to consume. When we serve fruit platters we cut out all the seeds so it is all easily consumable and looking ascetically pleasing. I know I love mandarins, (which are small oranges), but I specifically look for the ones with no seeds because the number of seeds in a normal mandarin drives me crazy to eat. Our children today are growing up believing that Watermelons and Mandarins have no seeds. Sure, it is much easier to eat, but what does it say to our children? What does that subconsciously teach us all?

I wonder how many of our churches, our programs, our ministries are like “seedless fruit”? Tasty and attractive, but without seeds that get replanted into the souls and hearts that come, so that they might be able to grow and yield their own fruit?  How often are our churches centred around the leader’s spiritual strength, that might come from delighting in the Lord and His word and bearing fruit that is delicious to eat, but by the next week those that came last week are craving for more to sustain them another week? 

Francis Chan tells a story of a Mega Church pastor in Seoul. He asked “How can I get my people to leave and live by faith? He explained how he had become really proficient at gathering people together but his intention was to get them to disperse to share the Gospel and live by faith. But now they had grown comfortable and didn't want to leave” (F. Chan, “Letters to the Church”, p 153)

As parents, we can be so meticulous about cutting up bite sizes of fruit and taking out the seeds or much worse feeding them substitutes to healthy fruit all together and not actually giving them the seeds of what they actually need to grow up and bear their own fruit.  Please, know that I am not just talking about feeding our kids healthy fruit with seeds here. (Although that is important as well). 

Whatever space we are in as leaders or parents, let’s be careful that we are bearing fruit that comes with a seed of truth. 

   “A farmer went out to sow his seed” Mathew 13:3

A seed of truth that can be replanted and grow independent of us being there. We are called to plant the seed, and God will grow it, but if we are only giving out fluffy, sweet fruit with no seeds, we have missed the point of being planted deeply in God and the blessing that comes with it.  This is not about yielding a fruit for ourselves, or unto ourselves, or drawing people towards us. It is so that the seed of truth may not only prosper in us but also spread to the ends of the earth.  

I want to see my children grow and become bigger, stronger trees than I can ever be. I long to see those I am called to lead, go and plant their own trees and reproduce over and over again. But it must start with me and the question, “Am I bearing seedless fruit?”

The Drivers Seat - A new perspective

I have been privileged to grow up all my life camping on the Shoalhaven River, with my Daddy’s green speed boat, “Shadrack”. Camping, water-skiing, tubing, knee boarding with the family and close friends, has been a formative part of my life and one I hope to never lose.  

“Shadrack” is now a vintage boat. My Daddy built it with some friends when he was in his twenties. It was his pride and joy and he loved to drive the boat and teach people to ski.  There are many people who tell the story of being taught by Dad to ski, which involved much yelling and yet also a lot of patience.

Growing up in the boat, when I was little I would sleep under the front while Dad drove.  The hum of the motor would put me to sleep. As I grew I would be in the boat whenever I could; either in it or behind it. My favourite place in the boat was in the front right bedside my Dad. He would smile and wink as he drove along, sometimes all day towing and teaching people to ski. He taught me at a young age how to observe and how to be his sidekick in the boat while he drove, and I liked that position. I took it very seriously. Being an observer means you have to watch the skiers and let the driver know when they have fallen off. It means you get to watch all the fun that is happening with the skiers and also look at what is happening on the river. 

Dad only let a few others drive. He taught my brother and husband to drive, that was mainly so someone could drive while he skied. I might be biased but he was a fantastic skier and skied right up to the age of 70. I loved watching him.

When he unexpectedly passed away 14 months ago in an accident, the Shoalhaven and “Shadrack” suddenly became a place of solace for many of us to feel close to him. I had never considered learning to drive, as I’d always felt that he would always be there to drive. Being a vintage boat, it has its quirks and ways of being treated. There were certain things only Dad knew how to fix and that’s the way we all probably wanted it to always be.

When dad died, I made the decision that I would get my driver’s licence and this Christmas I would drive the boat. While I knew it would be an emotional experience on many levels, I certainly felt very close to him driving this year. And my greatest regret is that he didn’t teach me, but I was thankful that this was something I could do with my brother and husband, who taught me all that he’d taught them. It is one thing to drive and then it is another thing to tow a skier well. Dad did it well, and this is not something you learn about when you get your license. 

What I didn’t expect to learn is how much the driver can’t do. The driver cannot watch the skiers. The driver cannot really watch much at all. The driver can’t have an idle chat to someone in the back of the boat while we are going along. The driver is always looking forward and watching the river, the other boats and making sure everyone is safe. The driver is in control of a fast boat and at any point if they are not watching everyone can be badly hurt. 

I didn’t expect to find that driving was a completely new experience for me. For someone who had been in that boat all her life, it was like seeing the boat through my father’s eyes for the first time. I had always simply enjoyed the fun of being in the boat and never understood the seriousness of captaining the boat.  I had gone for the “ride” all my life without truly understanding the requirements of taking charge, the responsibility of it all, not to mention if anything were to go wrong, what I was going to do! I had no clue. 

I didn’t expect to learn that while you are driving you are completely reliant on the observer to tell you what is happening, because you have other responsibilities. I didn’t expect to learn that when everyone is laughing at what’s happening with the skiers or knee boarders, the driver largely missed out on that, because he/her eyes need to be facing forward. 

I imagine after driving a boat for more than 40 years, Dad was able to do much more than I could do on my first drives, but it was a perspective I had never experienced before. It gave me a greater sense of respect for my father and the sacrifice and part he played all our lives in order for us to have fun. I learned that because of the deep trust and comfort I always had when Dad was driving, there was so much I never had to think about, while ever he was in the driver’s seat. Now, I was in the driver’s seat and I felt the weight of it.

There is something beautiful about having someone in the driver’s seat who you can trust, someone who gives their everything to lead/drive in such a way that it provides the environment for others to have fun and be free to live life to the full. I have been privileged to have people in my life that have provided that for me all of my life. I have had that in my earthly father and my heavenly father. 

Lord, help me to lead/drive in such a way that allows others to feel free and able to live life to the full and thank you for the examples in my life who did it so well that I never really appreciated how much freedom and life I have been given because of their sacrifice and diligence in driving so well. 

The "Parent" Dance

In England, there is a famous “ritual” called the “Changing of

the guard”. It is a very clear signal of change. The old guard forms on the north side and the new guard forms on the south side, a royal salute signals the handing over of the old guard and the new guard. There is a sequence, everyone knows, there are no surprises, nothing unsure. The march is set and the change is clearly complete. It is full of intentionality, ceremony, celebration and pride. It is done with expertise, precision and it is very clear, the old guard is OFF and the new guard is ON.  People travel from all over the world to see it, but it is more than ceremony, it is fulfilling a very important job of protecting the monarchy of England. 

There are many times as a parent, that the duty is clear, the “march” is set out, the change is obvious. The times in life where your child starts school, moves from primary school to high school, when they can drive, from a legal perspective when they can drink alcohol, when they are legally able to go to a club, when they move from single to married. These are obvious signs of the “change”, the old has gone the new has come, things have changed. We (or maybe it is just me) like to live in the black and white zone … knowing what is right and wrong, what is a YES and NO, what has come and gone, where we stand, basically on everything. It is so much easier. 

And YET… parenting is more often than not, a DANCE, rather than the “Changing of the guard.” I can just see the comical portrayal of what the “Changing of the Guard” would look like as a dance; a back and forward, teetering from ‘yes’ to ‘no’ to ‘yes’ to ‘maybe’ to ‘are you sure’ to ‘YES’ to ‘rack off’ to ‘if I have to” to “no.” I probably lost most of you then, but that is the dance that goes on in my head as a parent of teenagers learning to become adults. 

The challenging, yet never boring “dance” of a parent who longs to walk alongside their child, empowering them to become an adult and yet never quite knowing which step to take at times, to lead them towards the end goal.  Never quite knowing when we are leading or following, coming or going, listening or speaking, stepping up or stepping out, and at any time a quick “change step” must happen, which often takes you by surprise.

I wonder what that looks like in your world?   For my world, it’s the time where she wants her independence shopping, until she wants me to go to the toilet with her, or when she wants me to pay for something. It’s the time when he wants to stay out late as long as he wants, until he needs a lift home and we are to drop everything and go and get him. The time when she can drive and have independence until she crashes and needs saving to get back on her feet again. The time where he moves out, until he gets stuck and needs to save more money so he wants to come back home. The time when you can’t touch her or say anything, until she snuggles into you or wants you to say she looks great, and you clearly didn't get the memo. We have all been there. Oh, the dance we dance, when “no” is not always “no” and “yes” is not always “yes” and more importantly when “no” is actually “yes”.

I have recently had the privilege of being intricately involved in the last week of a young woman getting married, the last night in the house before moving into her new house with her new husband, the many preparations of the ‘changing of the guard”, from single to married. And while the changes are clear, the ceremony is well rehearsed, there is pride, celebration and joy, yet it is not without the ‘dance’. It is an interesting place as a parent to say goodbye to your child to marriage, to understand that the rules have changed and to navigate the dance well.  I have watched this family up close. It has been a privileged and a blessing to get this glimpse, before I will dance this particular dance myself in the future. 

That last night in the house, the final signals that a change is about to happen, the joy and sadness all mixed in together. The look of confidence on the new bride as she has everything organised and ready, until one thing goes wrong and she looks at her mum with eyes that say “fix it”. The beauty of dad walking (marching) his little girl down the aisle to the new man in her life and the words she utters beforehand - “don't look at me and I won’t look at you” - for they know they will both be crying with deep emotions that will distract them from this moment. That first dance, as a new bride and groom, which signals the last dance for Daddy to dance with his little girl. Of course, she will always be his little girl, but on this day some things have defiantly changed. Even on this day, where the “changing of the guard” is clear, it’s still a “parent’s dance”, it is exhausting and not easy to do well. But when done well, like any dance, it is beautiful, graceful and a joy to watch.

For a parent, I am not sure if it ever stops. For me this dance has only begun in the last few years, so I am still learning how to navigate it well. But one thing I do know, it is worth it, learning to dance it well. The cost is too high, not to. I have seen too many times when relationships and connections are lost because parents could not dance the dance well. 

I think it helps to name it, talk about it and acknowledge the “dance”. It is a start anyway. It is great to learn and watch others who have gone before and know that even when we mess up the steps, we can still choose to dance again. While I have seen it first-hand recently, it has reminded me of how well my mother and father danced the dance and the strong foundation that has given me over the years. I am so thankful for them and what they have taught me. The challenge is to simply keep getting better at the dance, and that requires practice, practice and practice. So, stay in the dance and never give up. Your relationship with your children is worth it and the gift you give them is a strong foundation to dance their own dance in time.

Time......to honour a life well lived.

Time …you can’t slow it down, you can’t speed it up, you can't make it, you can’t get it back. There is a time where it matters and times that it really doesn't matter.

Time is fleeting and yet time can feel like it is never going to stop.

There are moments that you forget and there are moments that can never be taken away.

I will never forget the moment in time, 3 weeks ago when my husband walked into the house to tell me that my father had a motorcycle accident and had died instantly. There are times when you feel like you are in slow motion, when time does not feel real…when time doesn't make sense. There are moments for us when a time means that life will never be the same.

You can’t change time, but you can waste it.

I have always tried to live as if every moment matters and have never wanted to waste any of it.

I learned this from my dad.

Dad could achieve 10 hours worth of work in one hour. With his speed, his passion, his skill, he could make anything happen when it needed to and he did it in record time.

And yet when he was talking to someone, giving to someone, sharing something, helping someone, time was never an issue. He took the moments to listen, to impress, to share his views, to make you feel special.

It doesn't mean he didn't ever waste time. Oh, my gosh could he do that. Just try and go buy something with him and see how much time it took for him to make a decision. Every option must be explored, every possibility uncovered and then after thinking about it for a time he would finally buy it. But you knew it would be the best deal, the best option and the best saving of money around. And then he would say “that is never a waste of time”.

I am so thankful for all the time we had. Each time I saw him he would hug me and say, “love you real big”. His squeeze would almost hurt it was so strong, no-one will ever hug me like that again.

I am so thankful for all the times in “Shadrack”, his speedboat. My favourite place was sitting beside him in the front seat, the motor so loud that we couldn't talk, but he would smile at me, wink and rub my leg and I knew there was no greater place on earth. He would drive that boat and take people skiing all day if he could, as long as he could stop for a cup of tea every now and then.

I am so thankful for the times when I would come to him and explain a crazy idea. His first response was to take the time to tell me all the ways it would not work and then he would make it a reality. I don't know who will help me make my crazy ideas a reality now he is gone.

I am thankful that he would never let a time go by to speak his mind. I was always amazed how he could be so cranky, politically incorrect and many times rude, yet still people loved him wherever he went and remembered the things that he said to them. I know how he felt about me, what he thought all the time. I will never be left wondering.

I am so thankful that, as hard-nosed as he could be, if you stuck with him you quickly learned that he was also the biggest softy out. As children we will never forget the times we would all watch “Little House on the Prairie” and as each episode ended, my brother and I would look at Dad and wait for the tears to roll down his cheeks… and then we would laugh at him.

I am so thankful that in the lowest time in my life, he was the one who dropped everything to be there, hold me, cry with me and tell me that everything was going to be alright and I always felt if he was there it would be okay.

I am thankful that even though he could have simply showered his grandchildren with things, he always chose TIME over things, and always spent quality time and quantity time with each of them. My kids will carry those memories, experiences and words with them wherever they go.

I am so thankful that for the past 12 years in particular, we have truly done life together in a faith community, where we worshiped, learned, laughed, gave and served together side by side. I was proud to share my father with so many children at SCKC (a camp for children of neglect), for whom he was their “poppy”.

I am so thankful that he lived out his faith.  Every day for him was a TIME to live out what he believed. Colossians 3:6-7 describes the faithfulness of my dad.

 “You received Christ, the master: now live HIM. You’re deeply rooted in him, You're well constructed upon him, you know your way around the faith. Now do what you have been taught and start living it…and let your living spill over into thanksgiving”

Such was the faith of my father.

Although this time for him on this earth has passed, I don't regret one moment of it.

There are some people that time cannot contain, there are some people like my dad where there is simply not enough time to share all the funny, inspiring, challenging ways that he impacted my life.

As I am my father’s daughter I never want to miss a TIME to say…time is precious, don’t waste time, live it to the full and live without regrets, take the time to let those you love know it.

Thank you Dad, for all the TIME you gave me and what you have taught me about how to use my TIME. I miss you every day and think about you all the TIME and I will endeavour to not waste a moment of time until we are together again.

Parenting when you know nothing

Even when you know it is coming, you are never prepared for that moment when your children look at you as if you clearly “don’t know anything.” After all these years of being the one they run to when they are hurt, the one they find comfort in when they feel lost, the one they trust to fix it when things get broken, the one they turn to for advice and wise counsel.  They are special times and I say to anyone with young children ... DON'T WISH IT AWAY. Boy, they seem like easy times now! 

I feel like I am at the stage of parenting where my thoughts really don't count for much, until they need money.  A humbling place indeed! I thought I was tougher. I truly have been heart broken when they look at me as if I come from “mars” and “dis” me without a second thought. 

My biggest challenge is to be quiet and listen and especially to know, when I do decide to speak, what to say. Lately, I feel I am getting it wrong more than right, I feel like I am drowning in a sea of "Speech" bubbles, which confirms that I clearly “don't know anything at all.” Mostly, I am learning to pray a lot, listen more and trust that the foundation we have planted in them is enough. This is not the time to begin developing a relationship. This is the time to have a lot of credit in the LOVE bank to get you through this stage. I am praying I have enough credit to get through.  

I implore anyone with young kids to make sure you fill the bank of LOVE and TIME and RELATIONSHIP and CONSISTENCY to overflowing when they are young. It will be necessary when they hit their teens and young adult years.  

These are the times when you really need a VILLAGE you can trust. I am thankful that we have been able to surround ourselves with great people who can be that voice that I no longer can be in this stage of my kids’ lives. I implore anyone with primary age kids, make sure you intentionally plant other voices in your kids’ lives, people you know you are going to be happy with, so when you hit this stage, you can sleep at night knowing that what you can’t say, they can. 

These are the times when the VILLAGE must understand what “partnership" is and being for you and with you as parents and not against you. I know I have been guilty of listening to kids and wondering what their parents are doing? Now I realise that it is not always fair to just hear the teens’ perspective and not the parents.  When you do life truly together, you see it from all sides and are able to be a support to each other as parents as well as the voice of reason for each other’s kids. 

These are the times when you need your own VILLAGE so you can say to a friend or one older and wiser, “do you believe they said this?” and you instantaneously get that look from them that validates all you are feeling, and that says “OMG, I know how you feel!” You need others to keep you propped up, those who are further down the track, who smile at you in a way that says, “this too shall pass.”

I implore anyone with teenagers to make sure you have parents older than you in your VILLAGE who can assure you it is “just a phase.” I implore anyone with young adult children to make sure you know who you are in God and know that you can trust Him when your children venture out in the big wide world, believing they know everything. Thank God, He never leaves them. 

Your children are always your children, no matter what age they are. You love them and you ache for them and long for them to be happy. When you get to the young adult stage and you are told you clearly “know nothing”, the rules of the game change, so beware and be ready and don't do it alone. 

I am beginning to understand why Paul said, “Parents don't exasperate your children” (Col 3:21, Eph 6:4) It is becoming a harder and harder command for me to achieve. Lord, help me to keep quiet, pray harder and speak less, be patient, and trust that nothing we have said in the past was wasted, even if it might take a long time for me to “know anything” again.