Putting Away Childish Things

Some years ago, a friend of mine gave me some bright and colorful plush toy spider monkeys. They were white with bright pink or bright purple. I thought they were super cute and, since they had long arms, I promptly got on my bed, on my tippy toes and hung all three of them on my ceiling fan because, that is what a mid-30s woman does with plush toy monkeys. It seemed a reasonable way to display them.

I quite enjoyed turning on the ceiling fan and watching them become flying monkeys! I would repeat this process multiple times a day. I reasoned that we can all be like children from time to time especially when you don’t share your room with another adult.  I had these monkeys (and followed my fun process) for about two years, then circumstances changed.

It was a good change. It was a fantastic change! It was even better than watching plush toy spider monkeys flying off my ceiling fan. It was love…a marriage proposal…a wedding…and moving.

I realized that the monkeys should not go with me when I married and moved in with my husband. For some reason, it seemed silly to take them with me since a) I don’t have small children, b) we wouldn’t have a ceiling fan, and c) I was pretty sure my husband would not appreciate them as much as I did. I can be perceptive like that. Because of my greater love for my husband than the fascination I had with these monkeys, I gave them to the friend who gave them to me. That seemed reasonable since, by this time, said friend had a toddler. A toddler would appreciate these monkeys for sure.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how proud I was with myself for being able to give up my monkeys. It was a process for me to be okay with giving them up. One would think it should have been an obvious and easy decision but for me, it was a struggle as I did not want to feel as if I was “giving up who I am”. I was determined I wouldn’t do this for anyone, no matter how much I loved them. Yet because of love, this particular decision was easy.

More recently, I have also been thinking about other childish things I have been very unwilling to give up or how in many ways, I have been unwilling to mature. I have stubbornly said to myself “I am not giving up who I am” no matter how much I love someone and with that thought, I realized how very shallow my love is for others.

1 Corinthians 13 is knowns as “The Love Chapter”. It is often read at weddings. Because of its (in my opinion) overuse, I had developed a disdain for this chapter. I have rolled my eyes often when I’ve heard it. I forbade the officiant of our wedding to even think of quoting from this chapter. I now believe that, deep inside, I felt “called out” every time I heard it. Listening to this chapter reminds me how little I know how to love and how unlovable and unreasonable I can be.

Most days, I can be eloquent, knowledgeable, unwavering, hard-working, and generous. On those same days I can be inpatient, envious, arrogant, egocentric, rude, and/or easily offended. Many days I don’t want to think the best in people, not hoping for the best in circumstances or motives, especially relating to those I love. Certainly I don’t feel like enduring their shortcomings. And, because of my lack of true love for them, in my mind, they seem to return the favor.

Not “giving up who I am” often translates for me as an innate ability to hold grudges. The Hooligans have often told me I can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. I have been proud of that as if I received a medal.

This particular trait is in stark contrast with 1 Corinthians 13. This is probably another reason I have not appreciated this chapter as much as I should. “…bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” in verse seven has been particularly challenging lately. It has challenged me to grow up. It is my challenge to continually put away the childish (self-centered) things that keep me from loving like Him. Monkeys are cute unless they are slinging vile at you! My grudge-holding abilities are like that. It’s not attractive.

In contrast to how I am, He suffers long and is kind; He does not envy. Never has He sought things for Himself and no matter how I behave, He is never provoked to despise me. He thinks great plans for me, and doesn’t quite like when I am unjust. When I am honest with myself and with Him, He rejoices! He bears all with me, believes in me, provides hope, and endures with me.

“Giving up who I am” – giving up childish things - provides the room so that I can be like Him not in part, but entirely and the true version of who I should be.

No monkeying around necessary or unreasonably holding grudges for that matter.

The Castle

When My Little Chicken was just that (about four years old), he wanted a medieval castle more than anything in the world, including tomatoes. It should almost go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, since I’ve been known from time to time to state the obvious, that every four year old little boy wanted the particular castle for Christmas, except I didn’t know it at the time. I love My Little Chicken a lot and so there was nothing that I wanted to give him more than that castle.

I’m typically a planner (you can refer to http://pehrtinent.blogspot.com/2011/06/planny-planny.html) for an example) but somehow, I underestimated what it would take to find one of these castles. Surely, I thought, “how hard could it be”! From about the beginning of November to December 24th I searched high, I searched low, I searched nigh, I searched all…and nothing. Now, this is before the interwebs so shopping online was not possible which is probably a good thing since I would have had to give my right arm to the online bid poster for this castle.

I got tired of driving around various interstates during the winter in the Northeast to find this castle. Oh, did I mention I was six months along with Muscles? Then, I got smart! On Christmas Eve, I began calling all the stores in the immediate proximity of my workplace to see if they had the castle. Voila, I found one and begged the clerk to “hold it for me” promising that I would be there right away. She said she would hold it 15 minutes. I frantically wobbled to my supervisor and asked if I could leave to get this castle (I don’t think I spoke intelligibly but we’d worked together long enough for him to know “how I get” plus, who messes with a pregnant woman, right???).

It was snowing A LOT this day and I remember driving as fast as I could and as cautiously as I could to Caldor’s to get the castle…I arrived just in time to purchase the monstrosity. Now, I’m already short and VERY round. The box was about 3’ x. I don’t really know how I carried it to the car. I was successful and I just knew My Little Chicken would be thrilled with his gift.

My Little Chicken opened his gift on Christmas morning and played with it the whole day…then no more! I was pretty disgusted with him. He wanted that castle more than anything in the world including tomatoes. My Little Chicken LOVES tomatoes. How could he lose interest so quickly?

The answer lies in human nature, I imagine. We seem to constantly be chasing for the bigger, better, newer and not fully satisfied or content with the blessings we have. Now, he was only four and he has grown up to be a wonderful young man since then. But sometimes I think of how I am and how I perhaps haven’t grown up as much as I should and continue (sometimes) chasing after the wind and not appreciating the sacrifice of my Heavenly Father who searches high, searches low, searches nigh; searches for all.

God sent His Son – Christmas reminds us of this. Additionally, He, the Son, after completing His task here on earth, went to prepare a place for us so that where He is, we can also be. He’s prepared the best “castles” ever for us and I don’t think we’ll bore quickly of them. More importantly, though, we should want to be in His presence more than longing for the castle…I guess we should want Him as much as My Little Chicken likes tomatoes :-).

Getting it Straight

I shall have a Sophia Petrillo channeling moment – picture this, February 8, 2012. Southeast, United States. It is my birthday. I am opening presents at Triple M’s house (soon to be “our” house). On this day, he has already sent a gorgeous flower arrangement with a little teddy bear hanging from the vase to my job. Totally adorable! I am spoiled, I know. He wanted me to open the presents before we went out for my birthday dinner. I first opened the cards. His parents sent me a card that made me boo hoo in a good way, and then I opened his card. That was followed by hugs for him.

The first present I opened was purportedly from “The Hooligans” I say purportedly because they’ve never, ever purchased a birthday present for me previously and they have no money. It was a beautiful metal picture frame with the word “LOVE” above the actual frame and one of my favorite pictures of Triple M and me in it! This is now safely placed above my credenza at work. Great! Fantastic! The second present was a…flat iron.

Now, don’t go thinking, “A flat iron. What kind of present is a flat iron?” I actually asked for a flat iron. Just the day before, I had forwarded a Groupon offer for a specific flat iron at a great price to Triple M for a “hint, hint”. However, I neglected to specifically specify that I wanted that specific one and only that one. The look on my face was not one of joy or delight, I am sure, and for that, I am sorry.

I inspected the flat iron, as I knew he put a lot of effort into purchasing this for me. He didn’t grow up with sisters and he shaves his head so this flat iron arena is all new for him. I would imagine he has not visited that section of the store in many, many years, if ever. So for that, kudos, Triple M! As I inspected the iron I realized it has the round edging instead of squared!!! Why the excitement? Well, I’d been wanting a 1” curling iron and I knew this would do the trick! I tried it this morning, and VOILA!

I don’t know that there is a great lesson or moral to this story except perhaps to specifically specify what you want and/or need if you want to keep it straight! I’ll keep that in mind in the future…the future that continues…forever!

Liberated

I’ve been lied to! I’ve been lied to for a very long time. It took me an equally long time to realize I’ve been deceived. Marvel, D.C., Grimm…, shame y’all, and shame on me for being so gullible. It’s a good thing Hollywood set me straight. Phew! It would have been a sad state of affairs had the lie not been made known.

In various fairytales (insert your favorite right here; I actually loathe the “Knight in Shining Armor ones”) or in comic books (I was quite fond of the Batman myself until I realized I’d been duped), the hero of the story wears a uniform which consists of some sort of spandex fabric and a cape. I know there are some that don’t have the cape and perhaps others with some armor or something but since I am neither a 12 year old boy nor a fan of The Big Bang Theory, I am no expert in such matters. However, as insightful black and white Hollywood movies point out, heroes are dressed in trench overcoats and fedora hats. What say you? I am mistaken? I don’t think so!

In a reverse sort of classic movie scene (“of all the joints in all the world, he had to walk into mine”) this plays out. I say “reverse” because it’s typically the dame that’s doing the walking and the gentleman that’s doing the talking. In my story, the dame (yours truly) was minding her own business when he walked in. I’ve recounted this before (http://pehrtinent.blogspot.com/2011/04/bats-pecan-swirls-and-laundry-rooms.html) so I won’t repeat myself. I’ve been thinking lately how he has liberated parts of me just like that hero would untie the ropes off the railroad tracks or catch the damsel as she falls off some building. Usually, the “dame” has gotten HERSELF in trouble. I’ll admit, this is the same for me. He doesn’t wear spandex and capes, thankfully. I tell you, THAT would make for a rather interesting blog. He does wear fedoras…and overcoats.

That’s why I say Hollywood got it right. Or maybe it’s the part that real men open doors and say thank you. Perhaps it’s the part that real men let their affections be known, though usually privately. I probably have to take back the “Hollywood” as a whole but maybe keep the Old black and white Hollywood. There are things that are black and white such as decency and honesty; hard work and compassion. It’s exceptionally freeing to be liberated to share and act with someone on these.

So, out of all the joints in all the world, I am thankful he did indeed walk into “mine”.

Didn’t know it was You

There’s a line in the song “Sweet Little Jesus Boy” that has been playing over and over in my head. Now, so that we are clear, my head only plays the Mahalia Jackson version. I feel it’s imperative for you to be aware of this detail. The single line is “We didn’t know it was You”.

This brought me back to a time when I had all four of The Hooligans at home. This particular year would be a rough Christmas as I was only working 30 hours per week making about $12 per hour with no other income or assistance. I believe their ages were 4, 6, 11, and 13. Those were the best of times and the worst of times. I’m sorry that I quoted Dickens but it fits.

One of the better parts of that period was my developing friendship with Wistful. Wistful and I met through mutual friends coordinating an event earlier that spring. We continued getting together and were becoming pretty good friends. She knew of my struggles and how sad it made me that I couldn’t “do” for my boys that Christmas. This was the same year that she coordinated a trip to The Biltmore and had “sponsors” pay for our tickets. There’s another wonderful story associated with that trip and Cinci, but we’ll save that one for another time.

Hanging on my door when we got back was a bag. This was very curious because I lived in the boonies at the time. It was very odd. When I opened it, I was very surprised. The bag contained a Christmas card, and within it a very generous gift card! When you think “generous” think a few hundred dollars generous. The card was unsigned and anonymous. I immediately thought it was from my home church.

A day or two later Wistful came over to help decorate the tree I purchased with said gift card and I kept going on and on…and on…and on about how thankful I was that my church family (according to me) thought enough to help me in this way. I also unashamedly and unequivocally, rambled on about how the young adult group we were a part of (in a different church) could not possibly understand my struggles as a single mom but thank goodness for my home church. This went on probably about ten minutes and Wistful could not take it anymore! She finally said, “Look, I wanted it to be a secret but since you keep going on…and on…and on…about how your ‘church family’ understands and loves you so much, you need to know it was from us – the young adult group”. (Disclaimer – I don’t remember the exact words as I was very embarrassed so, Wistful, feel free to correct as needed). All I could say was, "I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you".

During Christmas time, I believe my story has variations in others’ lives. We forget whom it is supposed to be about and we forget whom it is that provides for such merry. John 1:10 (ESV) says, “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him.” I’d spent countless hours with this group and I did not know them either! I didn’t realize they understood and loved us enough to be so gracious. The Good News Version of John 1:16 summarizes this point well as it relates to Jesus – "Out of the fullness of his grace he has blessed us all, giving us one blessing after another".

I am thankful that Wistful was gracious enough to forgive my ignorance and I even more thankful that "out of His fullness (abundance) we have all received [all had a share and we were all supplied with] one grace after another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing and even favor upon favor and gift [heaped] upon gift". John 1:16, Amplified version.

Merry Christmas!

Excess

Excess can be defined as “more than or above what is necessary, usual, or specified; extra or superabundance”. I really like “superabundance” mostly because I really like the word “super”. I also really like “quotation marks”.

The words excess, and its cousin superabundance, articulate well how blessed I feel and the blessings I’ve experienced God share with me this year. The more I think about them, the more I think about how undeserving I am and how Wonderful He is! It’s a great place to be.

The One that says, “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10) and “who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask” (Ephesians 3:20) has superabundantly proved it. Although I wonder, if I’ve just been paying more attention.

This year, though full of challenges professionally, and some economic uncertainties, has been abundantly and exceedingly filled with greatness. Cinci is the healthiest he’s been in years, Muscles continues to grow into an honorable young man, The Original Hooligans have made more appearances than usual, true friends are constant though not abounding, and I am loved beyond imagination.

Most of all, I understand more fully why “there is no law” against certain things. There is no excess when it comes to love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). I want to live that superabundantly. It is the season when it’s better to give than to receive after all. However, I pray this, being filled by the Spirit, is not seasonal but always excessively obvious in me.

Beholding

The following is a quote on the awesome turquoise free “business” cards I have – “Everything has beauty; not everyone sees it.” I wonder if we look long enough, intently enough to catch the glimpses of beauty all around us.

I remember when The Original Hooligans and The Hooligans were babies. I would stare into their precious faces and felt that their whole beings were beautiful by design because their Designer made them so. I saw art and uniqueness in their eyes, their little noses (some smaller than others), and the way their brain works. It seemed to me, there would be no time that they would be unlovely to this mom…and there has not been! I still see the art in them and I still believe they were designed specifically to be them.

Why is it that I can see the art in them but question the art and design in me? Oh, I very well know. It’s because instead of looking at the Designer, as I did in my children’s faces, I am looking only at me. I thought about this recently because I am blessed with people that see past the “me” in me but must see me through Him. I can think of no other reason why I should be unconditionally loved. It’s a beautiful thing to feel loved in that way.

Behold!, 1 John 3:1 reminds us that God Himself loves us and sees us this way! “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!” Yet, even though God and His Beauty is all around us, not everyone sees Him.

There’s another lovely passage I like that says, “...Christ is our example. By beholding Him we are to be changed into His image, from glory to glory, from character to character. This is our work. God help us rightly represent the Savior to the world." –1SM 172 (RH Aug. 13, 1901).

Therefore, my challenge is to choose to behold the beauty and art in each other, but most of all, to behold the Artist and Designer. He loves us in such a manner as to bestow the best of a Fantastic Father!