So - I am wondering something. Did you believe the story that swept through Facebook recently about a little girl who was severely mauled by her grandfather’s pit-bulls? As the story went, according to her grandmother, she took the child to a local KFC and they were asked to leave because the child’s disfigured face was “scaring the customers”. An aunt put the story on a Facebook page and, of course it went viral, and there was an outcry against such cruelty and an outpouring of money from people all over the country, and even outside the country. The last I heard, the family had received $135,000 in donations. Well, apparently it was some kind of media stunt as an investigation was launched and the whole story unraveled - the grandmother and child never even ate at a KFC that day.
I didn’t believe it the moment I read it. I refused to believe people would be so cruel and callous. Seriously, who would do that to a little child? Of course it would be outrageous and wrong - so outrageous and wrong I thought it was a ploy. I think we are far too easily manipulated by media. It was bad enough in the past when the “professionals” - journalists and reporters - were the only individuals spreading information. Now, armed with a little knowledge and a Facebook page - all sorts of things can be shared. And sometimes it seems to me we are too quick to jump on the bandwagon if the purpose is to vilify a person or a group of people. What ever happened to giving our fellow human beings the benefit of the doubt? I have encountered a lot of people who have very firm beliefs about poverty - and they perpetuate them when they talk to me. Some insist there are no people living in poverty in the local area. I have been told repeatedly I should take my truck to Flint or Detroit. I had a conversation with a gentleman recently who was actually a person who was willing to admit his ignorance and was curious to find out more. He truly believed there was no poverty in the community. I pointed out that many people seem to think that - but it is important to open our eyes and look around us. Sometimes we need to step outside our own comfort zones to see the real world. It’s out there. I was one of those invisible people living it. Those who deny its existence are contributors to the reason it is hidden; people in this area are often shamed into silence about their struggles. There are also some very annoying perceptions among people in which they lump every individual who lives in poverty into the same category. I get so sick of people who talk as if every single person who lives in poverty is living some sort of great life off the hard work and sweat of everyone else. Yes, they sometimes have cell phones, and yes, they sometimes have large TVs. Did you ever think about why? We live in a culture where people are indoctrinated to believe THINGS are the answer to life’s problems. We find some materialistic comfort in possessions - but, even for those who can afford the credit to buy them, they only offer temporary peace of mind. Why would somebody who lives below the poverty level believe any differently - or desire less of the materialistic diet this entire society is spoon fed?
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This was such a great week for The Torch! All the hard work and planning and prepping and shopping and thinking and dreaming comes together in an amazing culmination of emotion when we get to serve our fellow human beings. The people who come to the food truck are such an incredible blessing to my life - and my absolute favorite events are when we can just relax and cook and chat with the crowd. I love it. I love to encourage people, and laugh with them. I love to hear their stories, and commiserate with them. I love to try to understand where they are coming from and where they are going. I love the connections. I love when people send messages on Facebook to tell us that us feeding their children is the nicest thing anyone who doesn’t know them has ever done for them. I love every part of those weekly events and blessed times.
There is another part of The Torch I enjoy somewhat less. Okay. A lot less, but I see value in doing it and so will continue. That is the part where we go out mostly to promote what we are doing, to bring awareness and try to encourage people to become sponsors and supporters so The Torch will continue to grow and be able to reach all the people we are supposed to reach - and so others will find hope, and maybe even be encouraged to take a risk, step out in faith, and try something new. Today we were in a parade, and we followed that up with cooking food in a parking lot. We had mixed emotions going into the event, because we never know for sure just how much food to prepare - sometimes we have huge turnouts and sometimes not so much. Today, we did not have a large number of people come. The funny thing to me was somebody came up to me and said, “I’m sorry not too many people came.” She looked sad, too, and her comment and her face took me by surprise. I wasn’t the least bit sad or disappointed. Somebody else made a million suggestions for us for the future - trying to think of ways to get more people to come - and I thought that was kindof strange, too, considering I truly felt like it was a great event. Thousands of people saw the truck in the parade. Thousands of people are aware we are out there now. That was pretty exciting stuff to me. We got a huge donation at the end of the day, something that wouldn’t have happened had we skipped the parade or been in a different location. I met new people, and actually had time to stop and talk to them - one of the most difficult things to do sometimes when we are at an event and people are pulling me in all different directions. We got invited to speak for a group who want to learn more about us and see how they can get involved. We formed yet another small business partnership. And mostly, I prayed this morning that we would connect with whomever we were supposed to connect with today, and I believe we did! That makes the promotional events so much more enjoyable for me! Relationships can be incredibly complex and difficult. There have been times in my life when I deluded myself into thinking my relationship with someone was entirely different than it actually was. I had this idealistic view of how things should be and so I ignored how they really were, and forced myself to overlook the very clear signs that the relationship was not right, nor was it healthy. The mind is very powerful - and as long as peole around me were convinced all was good, my mind overcame the obvious and replaced it with the illusion the relationship projected. I have learned a lot from experiences like that, but it doesn’t mean I get it under control and stop doing it. I wish life were that simple. Sometimes I learn to change after making one mistake, but some habits - like how I view relationships are ingrained and hard to manage.
I was very recently deeply hurt by a person in my life who shouldn't want to hurt me. One of the things I have had to come to terms with is the idyllic relationship we should have, and the relationship we actually do have are two different things. I didn’t want to admit that, because it indicates a significant loss in my life, and the feeling that I failed somehow to live up to the terms of relationships so many other people deeply enjoy. So I have struggled mightily - and, as is my habit, blamed myself and my own shortcomings whenever things didn’t add up as they should. Things came to a head - and I ended up in a sharp and bitter conflict with the other person. I was expressing my very deep hurt, and I looked at the individual’s face and saw a slight grin - and realized my pain did not matter, there would be no life-change, and the relationship would never be what I hoped it could be or healthy as it should be. I found myself devastated, and felt like an utter failure. I couldn’t stop rehashing the events of the lengthy relationship - and the pain of the realizations that threatened to overwhelm me as I honestly assessed and tried to accept the enormous understanding that I cared more than the other individual was capable of caring. I woke up one morning, nursing my aching heart, and once again began thinking about the painful conflict and aching realizations. I made my breakfast and sat down to read my Bible. I am reading in the book of Genesis right now - the story of a man named Jacob - who was a man loved by God, but had some very rocky relationships throughout his life. When I finished reading, I made a decision that I was going to bring all of my hurt and disappointment to God in prayer, and I would not get up or stop praying until I was freed from the pain. It takes a long while to get rid of a lifetime of pain. But I prayed, and I stayed. And I was filled with so much love as I began to let all my expectations go. I acknowledged the hurt, and that it wasn’t my fault, and my heart grew lighter. I stayed for a long time, allowing God’s refreshing spirit and reassurance of His deep, deep, unchanging love for me to flood me and lift me and free me. I found peace, and God even gave me a very real and tangible sign when I finished praying - showing me HE cares about even the concerns in my life that seem small and insignificant. Nothing else in the world I have done has given me such complete peace, and such a great uplifting surge of self-worth. No relationship will ever satisfy as deeply. And what I have with God is exactly what it should be. He doesn’t disappoint. He doesn’t disappear. He doesn’t love others more than me. He doesn’t compare me with anybody else, even when I do. His steadfast love for me just as I am right where I am at fills me with peace and hope and understanding that even though human relationships fail, I don’t have to fail. Or quit. Or despair. I have love on a level that is not humanly possible to achieve, and, despite the fact human relationships often fall short and disappoint, my heart is healing and getting better every day, because I have Him and I have hope. It has been a difficult week, but I have once again been stretched and I have grown. How about you? How are your relationships going? From the beginning of time this has been a world of chaos. I can only imagine the very instant creation began, and it was this dark mass of waters and energy - just pulsating and powerful, waiting. And God’s presence was over all this nothing that was something, and He spoke and the chaos of energy and mass and water began to take form. I have been told repeatedly that God is a God of organization and order - to the point where, for a very long time I did not think He could really do much with me because my life is so often populated with chaos and craziness. As much as I would like to be able to neatly plan and label the circumstances of my life, it just doesn't happen according to plan. I have spent hours planning events and every other aspect of The Torch. Not one time has everything gone according to plan, usually it is according to chaos, and yet it works. My life has crossed paths with a plethora of people throughout the years, both young and old. And I have known many who have grown up and lived in a bubble of order. They have been protected from the chaos of the world and shielded from experiencing the consequences of their actions. Largely, this happens because they are not risk-takers, they are protected within the confines of their restricted environments and they don’t test the barriers or take leaps into the unknown. Following the path that has been laid out before them by the authorities in their lives, they play it safe, and safe they remain. They live serene and oblivious. That level of order and organization has never been mine, even though I tried really hard to make it happen. As I got closer to God, and started to understand His nature more, I realized it would actually make Him a lot easier to understand if He truly was just a God of order and organization. But, in reality, He is a God of everything, and that includes the chaos and chaotic people of this world. I used to know people who I hated visiting. Their house was immaculately kept - and you would have never known children lived there. I was nervous every time they invited me and my four kids over, because there was always a possibility something would get broken, or my kids would wander into an area where children were not allowed to be. For that family, it was a place of serenity and peace. For me, it was a little house of horror. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but I cannot live in an immaculate environment. I need a sense of energy and vibrancy around me and if that means sometimes dishes are left out, and the carpet doesn't get vacuumed every day, it’s fine, because to me, those are signs of life and relaxation and feeling at home enough to let it all go for awhile. There is a difference between having empathy for someone and having pity for them. Having empathy for someone is having the ability to relate to where they are. It is understanding, on some level, the pain they are going through - and being vulnerable enough to get involved with them as they suffer, and maybe even help them find a way through. Having pity for someone involves feeling sorry for them. It is far more helpful to people when our efforts to help come from empathy rather than pity. When my sister died suddenly, several years ago, I felt like the bottom fell out of my world. I was in such intense pain sometimes I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. How was it possible I would never see her again? Talk to her? Laugh with her? I had never experienced such a profound loss - and I had never suffered so deeply. A few days after I learned of my sister’s death, a woman at church stopped me in the fellowship hall and asked for the details, and how I was doing. I told her what had happened and was searching for words to convey how I was doing when she said, “Oh well, she lived in California and you live in Michigan so you can’t possibly miss her that much.” I was stunned into silence at her seemingly callous dismissal of my pain. I literally could not open my mouth to say a single word. She went on her way, ignorant of the fact it felt like she had driven a stake into my heart. She clearly had never experienced a significant loss in her life - or if she had she had not allowed it to develop an empathetic spirit. She pitied me for losing a sister, but could not empathize with my pain. Pity is not helpful. For years I have worked with individuals who have a variety of disabilities. One of the hardest lessons I had to learn early in this job path was my pity would do them no good. When I start to feel sorry for someone - I try to do too much to make up for his or her misfortune. I end up in a position of superiority over them, and there is a subconscious drive to keep doing more and more for them. Pity works more for my benefit because it makes me feel better without really helping those I want to help. It fosters a sense of dependence on me and robs them of their independence and ability to help themselves. I was told the other day I am a Caligander. I think that is funny, and true, which makes it satirical I suppose. I had no idea when I moved from California to Michigan in 1989 what life would hold. I was in for culture shock in a variety of ways. I learned hard lessons and gained experiences and knowledge that blessed and challenged me both. Until I moved to Michigan, I didn't know I did everything in a rush. I pushed hard to quickly get through chores, exercise, shopping, planning, even recreational activities. Not long after I moved to Michigan somebody asked me why I was always in such a hurry. I was surprised to hear that I was. I didn't know. I think that was a Cali-culture characteristic. Except for driving on the freeway, life in California moved faster than life in Michigan. I grew up always in a hurry to get to the next step, the next activity, the next whatever. When I was a child, my southern grandparents frequently asked me to repeat myself. They claimed they couldn't understand me because I talked so fast. I learned to slow down in Michigan and that was good for me. As Captain Obvious knows - the weather in California and Michigan are different. There were two kinds of snow I had experienced while growing up in California - there was one, yes, I said ONE afternoon in my entire childhood in which light rain sprinkles changed into snowflakes for about fifteen minutes. My sisters and I danced in the snow and hoped to make a snowman, but we were disappointed to see the snowflakes melt the instant they touched the ground. It left a lasting impression on me, though. We lived in the San Gabriel Valley, and the other snow I experienced was the snow which fell on the mountaintops in the surrounding San Gabriel Mountain range. Once, when I was a child, my dad drove us up the mountain in his pickup truck. We filled the bed with snow and brought it down into the valley and spread it all over our front yard. We were the cool kids in the neighborhood that day! I seriously had no idea what living in snow country was really like. God surely protected me and the other drivers on the road the first Winter I lived in Michigan. Who knew it was possible to put the brakes on and not stop? I didn't know tree leaves could do anything more than dry up and fall off. They actually turn amazing shades of red, orange, yellow, pink, purple, and green! There are certain roads I love to drive on during fall just so I can be covered with a canopy of brilliant colors. I love that my kids have grown up knowing this great beauty and treasure of nature. I never knew one could experience pure, overwhelming joy at the sound of frogs waking up in early Spring. It is the sweetest music to my ears - because it is the sound of life, and it never ceases to fill me with excitement and happiness. I literally pull my car over with my windows down whenever I pass an area in which the frogs are particularly vocal. As I sit early in the morning, I am refreshed from spending time with God. As I relax and watch the warm sun rise, I think about a game I used to play with my sister Debbie. We grew up in the San Gabriel Valley of Southern California - and in case you didn't know - it gets HOT there. We lived in Glendora, which is right at the base of the San Gabriel mountain range. Valleys are not as flat as you might picture them - at least not in California. Our community was populated with a variety of foothills all around. In fact, one of the main roads through Glendora is named Foothill Avenue (also known as Route 66, just so you know). Right down the street from our house was a park called South Hills Park. The park itself was very small, but it was nestled among some rather tall foothills. My sisters and I loved going to the South Hills park and hiking and climbing around and exploring nature in the hills. It would get pretty hot doing all that climbing - and often when Debbie and I were done - we ran the two blocks home to grab glasses of water. That’s where the game came in. We would “torture” ourselves with the water and see who could hold out longest from taking a drink. We would hold the glasses just a few inches away from our lips and wait - no matter how dry our throats were or how parched our tongues. We would sit and torture ourselves. One day, when we were adults, we were sitting by a poolside watching our kids swim. Debbie said, “Do you remember torturing ourselves with water?” I said, “Yes. Why did we do that?” Debbie said, “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea.” I think about how often I have done things that seemed like good ideas, but in reality, were not. One time I tried eating grass - I was thinking how awesome it would be to be able to eat grass just wherever I was and not have to go make food. Not a good idea. Another time, I was working on a project at school (I was in fourth grade). I had glue all over my fingers, and didn't want to mess up my project. I licked the glue off my fingers. Expedient, but definitely not a good idea. The brakes in my car felt a little soft once when I took off to head somewhere. I decided to ignore it. That did not work out well for me, either. Those are some of the smaller examples. But as I reflect over my life - and particularly when I think about torturing myself for no good reason - I realize I have tortured myself on a spiritual level as well. I was a young mom when I fell on the floor one night and gave my life to God, entering into what I realized was the most amazing relationship ever. My life changed. My heart changed. I felt it, and I knew it. I was a different person - and for the first time in my life I started to like myself. But for a good ten years, I tortured my spirit and soul. I was on a spiritual starvation diet. I prayed intensely about two times each week and got my Bible time in on Sunday mornings at church. Sure, I heard people - pastors and others - talk about the importance of reading my Bible and praying every day, but I didn't really consider those activities for me. Those were for missionaries and pastors and really religious people. It is difficult to admit we need people in our lives. Our culture contributes to that - we are independent, free spirits. We don’t like to let others into our personal bubbles, and we certainly don’t want them to know when we are hurting or need some help and support. We are shamed into keeping our mouths shut, putting up walls, and donning smiley-faced masks. Such shame is misplaced. Instead of being ashamed of the fact we struggle, make mistakes, and face heart-wrenching situations - even if we brought them on ourselves - we ought to actually feel shame that we have become apathetic to the pain of those around us. We need people. Even introverts like me need people in their lives. I draw emotional strength from my times alone - and that will never change - but I have learned I need to let people behind the walls. I need to talk and be heard and to listen and care about others. I get into so much trouble when I try to go it alone. We all do. Sharing our heartache with someone else makes the unbearable a little easier. Hearing their pain allows us to participate with them as human beings in a difficult world. Talking through stresses about money, jobs, children, fears, parents, anger, sadness, illness, depression and every other thing that plagues us can sometimes help us figure out viable solutions and can almost always help to lift our spirits. We need to know we are not alone. When we really talk to and pray for each other we connect on a deeper level. When we pool our resources, we can do so much more than when we keep ourselves isolated and try to get through life alone. One of the things I admire about Sarah is one of the greatest lessons I have watched her learn through the past several years. There was a point when she was deeply hurt by leadership in a church. Not only did the church leadership hurt her - family was involved as well, and that quite nearly destroyed her. One of the results of that was she found herself homeless and depressed. Sarah is a strong and independent woman - an Army veteran, even - and her initial instinct was to shut out the world and draw into herself. She could have stayed that way and forcefully, by her own anger, pain, will and personal strength, pulled herself through and turned her life around - or she could have allowed bitterness to keep her stuck right where she was at. Those were paths she could have chosen. But she didn't. People reached out to help her, and she resisted at first. I understood her lack of trust - if you lose trust in church and family, who else is there? But then, she made a choice - she dropped her guard and started allowing people to help. I know it was a struggle for her, but by allowing God to use people to help her out she found peace, and her faith was strengthened - and the testimony of her life has given her a stronger foundation for establishing and leading The Torch. I believe we are created to need others, and if we resist letting them in and try to do life alone, we will never find the peace and fulfillment we should have - and it will much more difficult to get through the rocky times of life. Sometimes it takes a hard lesson to learn that. For the first time in my life, I watched a season of the television program “Survivor”. In case you don’t know, it is a game show in which all the competitors live on an island. It is up to them to survive in nature with few resources for 39 days. Every few days they compete with each other in a variety of ways that challenge them intellectually, emotionally, and physically. The winners of those competitions win what is called “immunity” which protects them from being voted off the island by the rest of the group. Competitors work hard to strategize, plan for, and survive the competitions, forces of nature, and elimination votes. In order to do this, they must build alliances with each other and choose who will be voted out. The alliances change frequently, and people are constantly deceived into relationships which can turn on a dime. The ultimate goal is to be one of the final two survivors who then must win the votes of a jury comprised of the competitors who were eliminated - which nets him or her a million dollars. Basically, my take-away from the game is a question of - what would you do to get a million dollars? How much integrity would you compromise? On the last show of the season, the jurors have the opportunity to grill and question the remaining two competitors. During the finale of the season I watched, they were clearly angered and deeply hurt by the deceit they experienced at the hands of the man who ended up the winner of the game. As opponent after opponent confronted him about his methods, he tried to defend the variety of lies and betrayals which he had perpetrated in order to win, but it became apparent that even though he felt bad about doing it - he had been willing to do whatever it took to win the million dollars. In doing so, he lost his credibility and compromised his integrity. But he won the money. I know. I know. It’s just a game show. But it really is a question of what people are willing to do to win a million dollars. And actually, it causes me to consider what people would do not just for a million dollars, but for any money, period. Have you ever thought about how many reality television programs are built around money and how to get the most possible - no matter what the cost is? Much of life is directed that way, as well. Paul knew what he was talking about when he wrote, For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs (1Timothy 6:10). I have a pet peeve with Memorial Day. It annoys me that as a society, we don’t seem to grasp the point. For many people, Memorial Day is treated as nothing more than a three-day weekend which kicks off the summer. It provides a perfect chance to have a picnic or embark on the first camping trip of the season. For others - it is seen as a great marketing opportunity - have you noticed how Memorial Day sales abound? Even churches, unfortunately get into the act of self-promotion on Memorial Day weekend. I am harder on churches because I think they should be held to a higher standard. If we truly believe God is taking care of us, then we don't need to usurp Memorial Day to promote ourselves. It just looks bad. All-too-often I see churches treat Memorial Day celebrations as a chance to market themselves and get their names into the community. I think it is fine for churches to lead prayer for the families of fallen soldiers - or decorate grave sites in honor of the fallen, those are appropriate activities. But piggybacking other events onto Memorial Day is sad - unless, of course, the church is willing to participate without putting its name on everything and just truly wants to be there to honor those who died fighting for freedom, because the purpose of Memorial Day is not to put the focus on us - it is to remember them. We really do tend to take our freedom for granted. When the concept of Memorial Day began, the pain of losing soldiers in the wars which gave and protected this nation's freedom and unity was still raw. The graves were respected; the families of the fallen honored. The reality of the price of freedom stared everyone in the face. Think about it - how much is a life worth? How many lives were sacrificed in the fight to give the citizens of the United States the freedom we enjoy? Nobody likes to talk about or dwell on the subject of death, but just because we push it out of our minds and don’t think about it doesn't change the reality that we are free because people fiercely believed freedom was so important they would die trying to make sure it was firmly established in the United States of America. We give it a passing nod and "like" freedom posts on Facebook and feel patriotic. Once again, we are making the day about ourselves. In this culture, it is hard not to, I suppose. But when Memorial Day originated - there were no picnics, parades, or camping trips. There were no Memorial Day sales or self-promoting organizations. It was all about the brave individuals who contributed to the freedom of what was to become one of the greatest nations in the history of the world. In May of 1868, an organization of union veterans decorated the graves of fallen soldiers and their leader, Major General John A. Logan, declared that every May the graves of fallen war heroes should be decorated with flowers. It actually wasn't just intended to honor the dead, it was a reminder for the living. General Logan declared: “We should guard their graves with sacred vigilance. ... Let pleasant paths invite the coming and going of reverent visitors and fond mourners. Let no neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic.” I repeat: "Let no neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic." Therein lies my pet peeve - I think we have forgotten. We wouldn't have the freedoms we do if it was not for the brave individuals who believed it was important enough to die for. It's not about us. It is not about us. It kindof stinks to know the best lessons I have learned in life came through my times of struggle. One thing I have become very grateful for is that I do not know the future. If I had known in advance how long I was going to suffer through some of the trials I have faced, I would have been convinced there was no way I could do it. It took me three full years to come out of the fog of grief I entered when I lost my sister. Three years is a long time to endure heartache. I am glad I didn't know that was coming. I have learned I am far stronger than I ever would have imagined. My faith held fast every single time I had to pick myself up - and I did it. God did it. Some of the problems I have had to deal with were my own fault. I have learned I can admit that, do my best to fix them, and go on. God’s mercy has taught me so much. It is easy to beat myself up again and again for things I have done wrong, but He forgives me and lets them go - and that assurance has allowed me to forgive myself and move forward. Yes, I have made mistakes and sometimes my mistakes, or bad decisions, made things worse for me. But no, I do not wallow in those things - or continue to blame myself for my failures. I am human - therefore I am not perfect. I am free to admit that and move forward with my life. I have learned that difficult times pass. Pain eases. Jobs become available. Life gets better. I learned the importance of letting people go. I can’t be defined by an image I want someone else to have or held back by what another person might think. I can’t let the fear of the unknown stop me from following the path I must take. I learned my courage, my hopes, my dreams, my life and everything I am are deeply molded and formed by my consistency in prayer and faith in God. I learned He never disappoints, even when life does. I learned people can let me down and hurt me, but I only hurt myself further when I dwell in that pain and nurse it to bitterness. I cannot let their ill intentions define who I am. Everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE deserves to be forgiven. I learned that doesn't mean I have to be best friends with people who make me uncomfortable or who have hurt me in the past, but I do have to free my heart from carrying grudges against them. And often, if I am honest with myself, the people who have hated and hurt me the most have also launched me into becoming a better person, closer to God, and stronger overall. Sometimes their actions have even put me on a different path entirely that I didn't expect or want to travel, but in the end has actually been better than anything I could have imagined before. I have learned to face obstacles without becoming discouraged (at least not for long) and losing hope. I have learned the importance of being open to change - in my life situation, in my self, in the people around me. I have learned to embrace the impossible, because when I try to do what people tell me cannot be done it becomes an exercise of my faith, intellect, gifts and abilities and suddenly I become aware of what it is to be fully alive.
I have learned to savor the good things in my life. I cherish times with my children and my family, and I treasure those times in my heart. I held my new nephew for the first time last week. I laid him out on my lap for the longest time and we just stared into each other’s eyes for several blessed minutes. I absorbed that moment - it was precious and beautiful and will be with me always. I slept in my sister’s guest house at night with my two youngest daughters. I would just lay and listen to them talk and laugh together and my heart swelled with love and joy for having those moments. I learned in the deepest, darkest times when it seemed there was no way I could ever get relief from my debts, my heartaches, my troubles, or my fears - there was always a spark of hope to be found somewhere around me. I have learned sometimes I have to actively seek it out - and dig deep to find it, but it is always there. My hope has been renewed by watching the sun rise and set. It has blossomed through laughter with a friend. I have found hope in a walk or exercise or in helping someone else. I found hope in learning new things, like fishing with Sarah and how to operate a mobile kitchen. There is hope in giving and hope in receiving. There is hope in knowing troubled times pass. There is hope when I love, and hope when I dream. There is hope in letting go of the material and experiencing the supernatural. There is hope because sometimes the impossible happens when I least expect it. I have learned a lot. Patriotism during World War II was at a high in the United States. Veterans of that era just seem to stand a little taller and hold their heads up higher. A song was written at that time, called “Coming in on a WIng and a Prayer”. The song was about a fighter plane going out to battle and then disappearing. Everyone ends up waiting and listening and hoping for the best - when all of a sudden they hear the hum of an engine and learn the plane is coming home with only one engine, “on a wing and a prayer”. Even though all hope should have been lost - they made it. I was thinking about that phrase today, on the National Day of Prayer. Much of what we have done at the Torch has been done on a wing and a prayer. And I emphasize the word prayer, because prayer is at the heart of our accomplishments. Every single time we have encountered an obstacle - we might have had a moment of discouragement, but it was always, always, ALWAYS followed it with prayer and asking God for His help and encouragement. There are things about the Torch that don’t look at all like I thought they would when we first developed the idea, but often they are better than what I expected. I thought we would have the truck out cooking all this past Winter. I was wrong about that; we had so much to learn. But we did start tutoring and with the truck being down Sarah and I could focus on that. It is good that we did, because we have a much better picture of how that part of the Torch will work in the future. I was talking to a friend the other day about some of the things we have coming up. She asked about the summer, but every time I began to explain a different thing we are planning to do and hoping to accomplish, she interrupted me to tell me how they wouldn't work or why we couldn't do it or why we shouldn't do thngs. I don’t think she was intentionally trying to be negative. I think she was having a hard time wrapping her brain around attempting to do things that haven’t been done before. She didn’t discourage me, however, she energized me - because when I thought about the conversation later, I realized how different I am now than I used to be. I used to think of all the reasons why NOT to do something and that prevented me from trying new things and taking leaps of faith. But in that conversation - every time she threw a reason out there as to why we shouldn't or couldn't try to do what we are doing, my mind immediately went to why we should and could and how we would overcome the obstacles. She was still shaking her head when we ended the conversation, but I was more excited than ever for the upcoming summer adventures. I don’t think calling this day the National Day of Prayer begins to scratch the surface of what it really is. If people really, truly, pray for the nation, the people, the world huge, gigantic amazing things could happen. It should be called the National Day of Power and Amazement! That’s how I feel about The Torch. We won't be shaken, we won't be deterred, we won't be discouraged, and we won't give up. We started on a wing and a PRAYER, that is our source and our energy, and we will continue to be fueled by prayer. I have a love/hate relationship with exercise. But mostly I hate it. I don’t wake up in the morning in anticipation of my workout thinking, “Yes! I get to go to the gym today!” Usually, I am thinking, “I can’t wait until I am finally home from the gym today.” I have always told myself I love how exercise makes me feel; I just hate doing it. But right now, as I nurse some very sore muscles, I am not really thinking I love how it makes me feel. It makes me achy and tired - and it has always made me feel achy and tired. So why do I continue to punish myself this way? I am contemplating that on this beautiful morning. Largely, I conclude, it is for my health. Physically, when I exercise consistently my resistance to colds seems to increase. I don’t get sick nearly as often when I am continuously working out as I do when I lose my motivation and spend too much time sitting around. I also eat less when I exercise, and I have read in the Bible many times the passages which warn me against gluttony, which can be a struggle. Sometimes I find myself eating just to be eating - especially if it is food I really love - and I realize I could readily fulfill the definition of a glutton (an excessively greedy eater), which I don’t want to be. Exercise teaches me self-discipline and helps me control my appetite through restraint. It also wears me out so I am too tired to overeat. Let’s face it, I get up at 5:30 AM, go to work until 3:00, sometimes tutor kids, go to the gym, and then get home, hopefully before 8:00 PM. I am whipped when I finally come through that door - and eating takes too much effort at that point. But exercise also helps me mentally. I sleep far better at night when I exercise during the day than I ever do when I skip exercising. It is also a fantastic stress-reliever. One time, when I was working on my Bachelor’s degree I had so much homework I did not have time to exercise for a week (actually, I did not MAKE time to exercise). I was coming down to the end of the thesis I was writing and I found myself facing a complete mental roadblock for how to get through the final section and wrap it all up. I took a break and went back to it. I got some caffeine and went back to it. I ate a snack and went back to it. But, it didn't matter what I tried, nothing worked = my brain just would not cooperate. Finally, even though I "didn't have time", I decided to throw in the towel for awhile and go for a run. I ran two miles, wishing I had more time. I was AMAZED when I returned home and sat down with my laptop once again. My thoughts flowed and I breezed through the rest of the homework. I have used exercise as a stress-reliever ever since, and believe me, I have endured some very stressful times in my life. I get concerned for our nation. We are a society that loves our pills and medications. I have worked with teenagers in high school for many years and they take a variety of prescriptions designed to help them deal with stress and tension. As adults, we are setting the example for our kids and for future generations. I get that life can be stressful and frustrating and that we often have to face things that hurt deeply. And I will admit, it would be a lot easier to deal with stress simply by taking pills or eating away my pain. But I find the closer I get to God, the less I want to solve my problems the easy way, because I don't think He created me for that. I think He gave people the ability to exercise for our own good. I am not saying there is never a time for medication, but I am saying I think as a society it has become a first choice for dealing with many of life’s stresses - before we try exercising or addressing our lifestyle habits. And I think we all know this. We are a very educated, but just not a very self-disciplined group of people. Paul, in 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 compares our lives to athletes in a race: “You've all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally. I don’t know about you, but I’m running hard for the finish line. I’m giving it everything I've got. No sloppy living for me! I’m staying alert and in top condition. I’m not going to get caught napping, telling everyone else all about it and then missing out myself.” I urge you to find a form of exercise and commit to it - starting TODAY! You can do it! I know you can! Thankful for my children. Thankful for my friends. Thankful for my health. Thankful for my jobs. Thankful for The Torch. Thankful for the sunshine. Thankful for food in the fridge and on the table. Thankful for a comfortable apartment. Thankful for a warm bed. Thankful for hope. Thankful for this moment of peace. Thankful for a great fundraiser this past week. Thankful for such a supportive board of directors. Thankful for early morning time with God. Thankful for my clothes. Thankful for my upcoming trip to California. Thankful… Did you ever try to count your blessings? I could go on and on listing the many things I am so thankful for. When I woke up this morning I was just so full of gratitude to be incredibly blessed. I didn’t ask God for one thing when I prayed today. I just thanked Him and thanked Him. When I think about everything God has done for me, I cannot imagine ever being able to repay Him. Did you know He spoke audibly to me once? Crazy, huh? My daughter, Misty, was eighteen months old. My son Markie was two months old. It was a Sunday morning and I was just finishing up getting them ready for church. Markie needed his liquid vitamins, so I propped him in his baby seat on the table and started trying to wrestle those down his throat. Their dad, Mark went outside to start his very loud car. I forget what model it was, but it was loud. It was the kind of car the men at church would stand around afterwards with the hood up watching the engine as it roared. Wednesday, 04/16/14 - 6:30 AM. There are days when I wake up two hours before my alarm is set to go off. This was one of those days. My mind swung into full gear as soon as I woke up. Pretty soon, the pull of fatigue was in a tug-of-war with my racing thoughts. On days like this, I have to make a decision about what is the most important - more sleep, or more prayer time? Prayer won out hands-down. The nervous butterflies in my stomach could, perhaps, be ignored for a few more hours - but I didn't want to lose the opportunity to spend time with God on a momentous day such as this. Now, as I look out at the purple/pink/blue dawn sky this morning, I feel so much pent-up joy and excitement and fear and hope. That is a lot of emotion for 6:30 in the morning. I am filled with joy because of the promise of the beauty of the coming day, both as I drink in the lovely morning and I anticipate meeting the wonderful people who have supported and encouraged us this past year. I am excited to see what the day brings - everything I have done so far with the food truck has been an adventure. At the same time, I am afraid. I am nervous about the possibility of something going wrong with the truck (can’t imagine why I feel that way), or that we will break something, or who knows what else? I know the flesh and blood persons Sarah and I are - we could quite easily mess things up ourselves, just in our own weaknesses. But I am also filled with hope because there was a day when I greeted each morning with sadness and trepidation. There was a day when the unknowns were frightening in a life-threatening, sanity-stealing way. And yet, I could meet with God every morning and He would greet me with His unchanging love, unconditional acceptance, and unfathomable peace. And here I am today. Facing the first big event in which we will be cooking and serving food from the truck. And I have no idea what is to come… 04/18/14 9:07 AM. So here I sit, 51 hours after I started this blog and I feel exhausted still, yet peaceful and incredibly blessed. I realize we have the most wonderful volunteers and supporters helping with The Torch. We have met so many new people in this journey and I am repeatedly touched by the generosity of the people I meet. Dawn and Darl at The Shop are such giving and caring people - so willing to give to the community and so gracious and helpful to work with. Meg at Shone Foto is a joy to talk to and such an encouragement. Several years ago, I decided I was going to become more daring with my life. I heard a story about a man who, as he was dying, began to regret not doing many things he realized he should have done in the course of his lifetime. He acknowledged he had had a good life, even a successful life according to worldly standards, but as it all came to an end, he realized he had not lived a full life. By living his life safely and in fear of change, he believed he had missed his calling and found himself spending his last days reciting a litany of “what ifs”. He said he wanted his story to be a warning to people, that if they didn't want to end up like him - wondering “what if?” - then they should embrace life and change without fear. He pointed out how he had backed away from risks many times in his life because he was afraid of what others might think and of what it might cost him. He had lived a comfortable life as a lawyer, with plenty of money and the material possessions and comforts that go along with it, but as his life drew to a close, he knew he had not ever really lived. That message spoke powerfully to me. I had spent plenty of time avoiding the pursuit of difficult things, even though I knew God was putting them in my heart and mind to do. I admit, I was afraid. Even though I sensed I was not living fully in His will, I was comfortable with the familiar, so that is where I safely stayed. But that was not the person I wanted to be - and I knew it was not the person I could be. I was settling. It took a tremendous amount of prayer and time for me to work up the courage to begin to really take steps of faith into the unknown. Initially, they were just baby-steps, with a bit of risk, but not too much. Every little change I made increased my courage and my faith. Now, several years later, my life resembles nothing like the life I had before. There are definitely struggles and stressors. Everything did not become perfect when I chose to stop being afraid and began to embrace change, but it has certainly become fulfilling. If the idea for The Torch had been presented to me ten years ago - I would have dreamed about it and then pushed it to back of my mind, into what would have become my “what if” box. I know I wouldn't have had the courage to lay it all on the line like Sarah and I have done. I fully realize the enormous task we have undertaken and the multitude of risks involved. I have listened to people as they explained to me all the reasons The Torch wouldn't work, couldn't work - and occasionally I have run those thoughts through my mind. And I have faced obstacles which looked utterly impossible to overcome, but which apparently were not, because they were overcome. Even now, doors are opening for The Torch and I have a sense we are merely at the tip of the iceberg with what is going to happen. But what do I know? I can’t see the future. But here’s the thing, the thing which brings me incredible peace and hope and joy - the thing I will never lose out of all the experiences I have had during these past few years - The Torch will never be a “what if” for me. However things turn out, however they go - I will know “what if”. I will know I tried. I will not have to end my days wondering. I will know. And I have learned such a valuable lesson about taking risks and exploring new opportunities. I don’t ever want to look back over my life and wish I had done things I didn't do. I would rather fail than never know what could have been. I would even prefer to - gasp! - make mistakes than stay safe and never try. I have learned mistakes are great teachers, and risks can be very fulfilling. It is possible to be a person who exists on this earth and not be overly smitten with competitive spirit, but you might not know that if you live in Michigan. That person would be me. Ever since I moved to Michigan twenty-something years ago, I have watched the Michigan State (MSU) - University of Michigan (UM) war. Shortly before I moved here from Southern California, I found a sweatshirt that said “Michigan” on it in a local store. The sweatshirt was a nice bright green and the word “Michigan” was a sharp gold color. For those of you who don’t know, MSU’s colors are green and white, while UM’s colors are blue and gold - and they don't mix them. So here I come with my green and gold sweatshirt, and people questioned me about it because it was confusing for them. But I didn't even know it was confusing, because I didn't' know about the rivalry - and I ended up having some strange conversations about it - and I noticed you can’t buy shirts like that here in Michigan. Stupid California sweatshirt maker. I have seen some pretty bitter battles and watched tempers rise as one side or the other taunted and bragged over a victory. I've watched a few games and tried to conjure some emotion and excitement, but it just doesn't work for me. I simply don’t care. Sarah, on the other hand, flies off her nut and becomes a madwoman with her intensely competitive spirit. She is a die-hard UM fan and I doubt that will ever change. I remember once, UM lost a football game. Now, I am sure through the years UM has lost many football games, but this one time I happened to see Sarah right after the loss. Boy, she looked angry. But I didn't realize she was really, really, mad. I didn't know she was all that invested in UM. I thought she was sort-of faking it because seriously, who cares if they lost? It’s not that big of a deal, right? Then I made a joke about it. Apparently, my joke wasn't funny, and I waaayyyy underestimated her emotional state. Sometimes I marvel because I just can’t get into it. Sports’ teams wins or losses don’t affect my life, not even a little. Not even a smidgen - however small that is. My life just rolls along unaffected by the Super Bowl, March Madness, World Series, or Stanley Cup competitions and wins or losses. The sun rises and the sun sets. I won’t lose a wink of sleep over the loss of a game. And I find it hard to understand the depth of emotion involved in sports’ rivalry. I can’t understand it, but I like it. I like it because the very idea of so passionately supporting a team brings people together with a sense and feeling of community, and I feel like our cyber-driven world is causing us to lose that camaraderie. Last weekend I was at the Livingston County Home and Garden Show. I met a lot of very interesting and wonderful people. One woman and I talked for several minutes. She asked how we were going to determine if the people who come to the food truck for a hot meal are really in need of that meal. It's a good question; I get asked a lot. I told her I figured if they came to the truck, they must have some type of need, and I would feed them and talk to them without worrying about seeing a paycheck stub. Standing on top of a mountain and soaking in the pulsing life of the valley below. Waiting, poised at the edge of the ocean while the water washes in and out, gradually creeping higher. Bursting out of a cool forest into an unexpectedly warm and sunshiny meadow filled with the flowers of spring. Running and running down a dusty desert road with a hot wind blowing and buffeting unceasingly. Listening to a river flow swiftly through the middle of a densely green, incredibly bright, forest. Soaking up the sun while gazing over the unreal beauty of an aquamarine sea. There is something fiercely wonderful about the myriad ecosystems in the world of nature. It is very difficult to conceive of the idea that such stunningly intricate and perfectly formatted environments just randomly came together. And the connection and peace that floods the soul and the self when immersed in natural creation is rare to find among man made and construed surroundings. The human mind can dream and construct but in the end what is produced is based on what already is. The colors, smells, sights, sounds and overall sensory impact of nature often inspires people to strive to imitate what nature brings just by existing. In Romans 1:20 - Paul writes, “ For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” There is a compelling beauty in the world which resonates in our souls and screams of a Creator. Spending time in nature refreshes and renews us. Why? Because when we experience the raw beauty and majesty of nature - we draw close to the heart of the Creator. We acknowledge our smallness while sensing our greater purpose. If so much care was taken to get the colored hues of the world of nature exactly the way they should be - with the ability to cause breath to catch and hearts to beat faster - how much more care was taken to get every molecule of human creation exactly in place as it should be? When I was in 8th grade, a new boy moved to Carl Sandburg Jr High. His name was Mike, and my friend Cyndi and I really thought he was cute. Cyndi, however, had a boyfriend already - so we decided I would invite Mike to the upcoming Sadie Hawkins dance. Unbeknownst to me, Cyndi struck up a conversation with him in one of her classes and told him I would like to invite him to the dance. She later reported this to me - along with his answer. He told her he was going to watch me the next day and then make a decision. Cyndi brimmed with plans and ideas to help me behave in such a way as to encourage Mike to want to attend the dance with me. She told me what to wear and how to do my hair. I followed her advice, and the next day came to school looking my best, well, according to Cyndi, anyway. It was an incredibly miserable day. Cyndi stuck by my side like glue and watched for Mike constantly. She would whisper directions to me - like, “stand up taller”, “smile and joke with me, he’s looking”, “fix your hair”, and, “for heaven’s sake, don’t let him see you reading that book!” I felt like a puppet, being yanked first one way and then the next. And I really started to question Mike’s character, too. What the heck was he looking for? And did I really want to go out with someone so shallow? I didn't feel like me and I didn't feel like I could be me because of Cyndi’s continual corrections. At the end of the day, I was exhausted, and I told Cyndi even if Mike wanted to - I wasn't going to the dance with him. I never spoke to him, or smiled at him or had anything to do with him after that day. I was thinking recently how much of life is spent worrying about what other people think and making decisions and choices based on that. For many years of my life, I was in what I almost feel was a “Christian clique”. We talked the same, projected the same images, condemned the same behaviors, built each other up, served in the same ministries, voted the same way and lived rather sheltered lives. We comforted ourselves when other people got upset with our ways, by convincing ourselves we were on the narrow road, and, of course people would hate us - they hated Jesus, didn't they? I have to admit, it felt good to belong somewhere. We all want that, I think. To belong. But sometimes the cost is high because when we worry too much about what everyone else will think or say or do, we lose who we are created to be. And we can miss out on relationships with other people who are wonderfully, creatively, beautifully made - yet have different viewpoints, ideas, and thoughts from us. I am at the point in my life now where I don’t really care what people think about me. I am following God and sometimes He prompts me to do things I would never have done before - and that is a good thing; I didn’t show much love and compassion before. And I don’t think people saw much Jesus in me - I think they felt judged instead. By allowing the people around me to dictate how I should act and who I should be, I missed out on opportunities to be light and salt to the world, and in my mind I can still see the pain in people’s faces when I rejected them so coldly in my zeal to be “spiritual”. I was wrong, and I have changed. I know who I am, and I know who God is teaching me to become. I won’t be jerked around by the fear of rejection or controlled by what people think any longer, because I want to be me. I know Winter sucks. And I know this past winter was the coldest and snowiest in 130 years. I know it is nerve-wracking driving on slippery roads and the endless stream of cloudy days is downright depressing. It is a drag to put on and take off boots and gloves and hats and scarves multiple times per day. It is also tiresome trying to stay warm and look fashionable and professional under layers of clothing. Exercising indoors takes a toll after a while, as well - treadmills do the trick, but there is nothing as refreshing as an outdoor run or walk. Having said all that - I can’t help but notice something about my attitude as Spring draws nearer. I am feeling a bit - victorious, I believe. There is something invigorating about making it through those long dark days of winter. Yes, I slipped and fell - more than once, I might add - but I got back up! Yes, there were many white knuckle drives to work - but I got there! Yes, there were no-pay snow-days - but I got my bills paid! Yes, there were days where I just had to shut the blinds because the snow made me want to scream - but those days passed. Yes, the biggest disappointment of all was the affect the polar vortex had on the food truck - but I learned so much! This Winter I found myself forced to develop a resiliency I wasn't particularly looking for. I think we all did - and one way or another,we got through. Somehow, we drove for hours each way to work, and found babysitters for the kids, and breathed even when it hurt. We posted unbelievable temperatures on Facebook and Tweeted the record-breaking wind-chills. We pulled together and sympathized and encouraged each other by laughing when we wanted to cry. We donated supplies and food and prayed for those who weren’t as fortunate as us. We replaced dead batteries and windshield wipers and alternators and heaters. We dealt with broken pipes and worn-out furnaces. We lost gloves and found gloves and bought gloves and shared gloves. We faced skyrocketing heating bills by doubling up on blankets and wearing our coats at home. We hung in there and kept on going and all of a sudden - March is here! And the worst Winter in 130 years is on its way OUT! Polar Vortex 2014 leaves behind a hardy bunch of resilient, and at least for me, grateful, people. Even though I grumbled with the best of grumblers during my lowest and coldest and weariest points these past few months, I am grateful for them. For one thing, I made a deal with myself before December came this past year: I told myself I would not complain about the weather on Facebook even ONE time - and I didn't! I looked and looked for the positive and found it over and over again and that makes me happy. I was also determined not to get discouraged with the food truck, no matter what happened, and I admit, there were times I had to talk and pray myself back up - but I never completely despaired. (And I only punched it once.) Despite the frustrations and discouragements - I gained a wealth of knowledge I would never have received had this winter been any different. We did it, guys. It’s almost over. In just a few short weeks, Spring will be here. Look around! The trees are budding. The robins are back. Flowers will be pushing up through the ground. And we are still here. Still strong. Still fighting. Still joyful. Still blessed! |
AuthorRhonda Callanan Archives
February 2022
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