This past weekend our lead pastor spoke about interruptions and how God can use them or WILL use them for His purpose. Experiencing occasional interruptions on any given day is not unusual for me, but to be honest with you–I don’t respond to them very well. I like my time . I like order to my day. I like being  in charge of my day.  Yet, having confessed that particular shortcoming of mine, I also need to contradict myself and admit that I DO like interruptions–when they are from God. In fact, this morning during my quiet time of reading and prayer I asked God to interrupt me today. Faithful that He is, He did.

About 9 am I was in the process of preparing my breakfast and had my IPhone on the edge of the kitchen counter. All it took was a small nudge from my elbow and the phone landed in the sink, in a pan with a small amount of water in it.  Just enough to cover the bottom of the phone where the charging and headphones ports are located. That misfortunate mishap that lasted less than 5 seconds became a major interruption to my morning.

I stayed calm. I reached out to our daughter who is employed by AT&T. She gave me a couple of tips, neither of which fixed my issue so I made a trip to the nearest  repair facility she recommended. $95 later my phone is back to optimum performance.

The repair took less than an hour which was plenty of time for me to do some continuing research on a scripture verse. I chose Genesis 1:1 to compare in three different versions and find the definitions of “beginning”, “God”, “created”, “heavens” and “earth”. My findings are the topic of another blog entry, but I will leave you with this to ponder. The Hebrew word for “created” is bara’ (Strong’s #1254) It means “brought concept or object into being from previously non-existent material”. I was sitting in the mall food court when I read that and I almost squealed with delight. Wow…’previously non-existent material’….what an interruption! what a concept to meditate on and journal in my notebook.

Am I pleased that I spent $95 that wasn’t part of today’s budget? No. Am I thrilled about an interruption that gave me time to discover the definition of but ONE word in a scripture that has caused decades of debate? Absolutely.

When I asked God to interrupt me today, I really meant “maybe someone needs to hear an encouraging word from me..let me give you some wise counsel” kind of break in my day’ or “ask me about the hoodie I’m wearing that bears the logo Celebrate Recovery’. Nope. He needed to humble me with a financial trip to a repair shop in order to discover riches in the meaning of a simple yet profound word.

Two lessons today. Do not set a phone near sources of water. God is able to make something out of nothing.

Put a group of men and women in a room and inevitably as each begins to introduce themselves to one another this question rises to the surface of conversation like cream in fresh milk…”So, what do you do?” The query is always meant to spark conversation and discover exactly what profession or job the person holds. It’s usually a non-threatening question unless you detect a tone behind it such as an overactive ego chomping at the bit to tell you “what I do” compared to “what you do”, and even if it’s meant in all sincerity, I do not like the question because I don’t enjoy comparison games or ego trips.  So, imagine that you have just asked me “What do you do?” Well, let me answer that.

Upon rising in the morning and pouring myself my first mug of coffee I head to my favorite chair and open my Bible to read, pray, listen to God and write in my journal. I guess that doing that makes me a prayer warrior.

When I leave that time with God and begin to take care of my household with the washing of laundry, cleaning up dirty dishes, sweeping floors and scrubbing toilets, I guess I’m doing tasks that are usually associated with being a wife and homemaker.  So, yes, I’m a wife. I’m a homemaker (housewife if you use an older term)

On most days you will find that I have performed some form of intentional exercise such as strength training, a walk or run outside, and in warm months bide rides through my neighborhood. Doing these types of exercise are keeping me more fit and mentally alert. I guess this qualifies me to be called an athlete (of sorts).

I attend a weekly Celebrate Recovery meeting at our church home, even serving as one of the leaders on the team. By doing so I guess you could say that I am a leader/servant.

Every week I usually care for our toddler aged granddaughter. Having this time with her, helping her to grow and mature into a responsible adult is time well spent and doing so does not cause me one ounce of concern or regret. I guess you could call me a mentor–although being called gramma has a much sweeter tone and melts my heart every time I hear it spoken. (I’ve evolved from being called Ga to Bomma to “something” that is closely resembling gramma)

To this list I would also add that I am a  daughter, sister, an in-law, a mother, a friend.  So, when I’m asked by a new acquaintance “So, what do you do?” I have to refer to the above mentioned roles that I step into each day, every week, month after month, pouring into years now that are full of routines and experiences. They are are what I do.  And honestly? I’d rather you ask me “Who are you?” rather than “What do you do?”  But, that’s another entire blog entry….oh, did I mention that I also write? I do. I guess that makes me a writer too!

To the deer and other wildlife that visit the river north of our home, the current shallow water is a welcome respite for a much needed drink or cooling down from summer’s hot sunshine. Along with the larger creatures of nature, a variety of insects can be seen as they fly in and out between the river beds, landing on grasses that are extending along the edges or from the murky water below. The banks of the river are lush with many plants and trees, many providing interesting shapes of shade dancing on the surface of the water. Yet, as refreshing as the river may appear, a closer look reveals waters that are brown, filled with silt, trapped by grass that looks like a woven web of greenery.

This was the river today as I stood on the bridge, leaning against the guardrail, drinking the cool clear water from my bottle that I carry with me when out for a run or a bike ride. Today’s run was 2.55 miles, so a brief rest at the bridge was a welcome stop amidst the beauty of a mid morning trek outside under sunny skies and a slight breeze. As I was enjoying my water, continuing to enjoy the music playing through the speaker of my phone, admiring the and absorbing the quiet of the river, imagine my delight when I noticed a lone deer standing knee deep at the water’s edge. He or she was a beautiful golden brown. Its ears were alert and deep brown eyes met mine and we began our impromptu time together. We both stood still for but a few moments and it wasn’t until I reached for my phone to snap a photo, that this lovely creature broke our stare and darted into the nearby woods.  Even though I was disappointed at missing a great photo, I was grateful for the encounter and thanked God for allowing me to see some of His creation this morning.

As I tucked my water bottle away, waited for a couple of cars to pass by me, I could not help but allow my mind to return to the thoughts about the murky brown water. To that deer it was refreshing, a much needed drink. To me, it was unpleasant to consider even sampling  its coolness or thirst quenching benefits. And, though the river is shallow right now and the muddy bed exposed, one can only ponder what lies below the mucky riverbed.

My brief “visit” at the familiar river up the road from me caused me to think about Jesus referring to Himself as Living Water. John 4:14 says “..but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.” My mind contrasted that even though the brown water of our little river is relief to nature’s creatures and not to me as a human, it still has great purpose. The Living Water that Jesus spoke about was pure, clear, vibrant–absolute perfection–enticing to animals, beneficial to man. Yet, there are those who refuse or have lived reluctantly to drink of the water that is offered by Christ. To do so indicates a heart transformation and relationship has been established. For those abiding in Christ, He has become a place of rest, an oasis that refreshes over and over again. To those living contrary to Him, His Living Water is seen as murky, unbelievable, with waves of denial and refusing to surrender to an abundance of cool thirst quenching water that far exceeds physical benefits on a hot summer’s day.

Yes, my little river up the road paints many life lessons for me. I’m grateful for my brief visit with a beautiful deer, my eye catching a dragon fly as it flew across the surface of the water, the tangle of grasses poking their blades of green above the brown water. The river has its purpose. The Living Water of Jesus has its purpose. Both give me great delight on a hot summer’s day.

“Make sure you don’t forget your homework!” Make sure you have your lunch! Make sure you watch the traffic! Make sure you wear your coat! Make sure you say please and thank you today! Make sure you’re nice to your teacher and friends! Make sure…make sure”…can you hear the echo of your mother’s voice from childhood years when she sent you out the door? It’s not that mom’s liked to bark orders (well, maybe SOME did) but giving those reminders was part of her duties to raise a child who could be a responsible adult some day.

I found another voice that said “make sure”. His name is Paul, the apostle. In his letter to the Thessalonians he wrote “Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else.” I find it interesting that he used a firm command in the beginning of this sentence…”make sure”…only to add later “always try”. What did Paul know? Did he have some previous experiences with these folks to remember how they slipped up with their behavior? Were some of them hard-headed or rebellious? I tend to think the answer is yes. Better yet, I’m pretty certain Paul knew these Christians weren’t always loving, unwilling to  always be kind, and needed reminders, just like a child going out the door requires his mom’s constant instruction. Paul–and moms–full of wisdom, having lived beyond the years of a child or a new Christian, know that “Making sure” isn’t going to happen all the time. So, because failures WILL happen Paul introduced the idea of “at least try”.

Can you hear those words echo in your mind? “Try to ride your new bike. Please. One more time. You can do it. Will you at least “try” to like John even though he bugs you? Will you “try” eating broccoli again? Will you “try” to forget what happened the last time you played with Kathy?

Unlike the “at least try” memories from childhood, Paul’s directions for “always try” go deeper than new bikes, pesty friends, and strange foods. They penetrate the very core of the heart. At least, for me, this is true. These two simple words–“always try”–are really quite an unattainable goal for me, even on my best days.

Paul’s guidance? “Always try” to be kind to everyone. Notice, it’s not only those people you get along with, but um….everyone. Everyone. Did you hear it? Did it click yet in your brain? In case you missed it let me say it again–everyone. Did I hear an ouch?

I don’t know who your “everyone” is that affects your ability to exercise kindness and love. However, I do know my own and must confess I’ve got some “making sure” and “always trying” to do every day. At the end of each day– and more importantly at the end of my life– when I meet Jesus to face-to-face– I want to hear His voice…the echo of His loving affirmation with a simple yet profound “well done” My faithful one. When you were unable to “make sure” you “always tried”.

I learn a lot about life from roads. I live on a paved road which makes my husband very happy when it comes to maintaining the upkeep on our vehicles. But not far from us, especially if you go north from our home, the gravel roads become the majority of travel. These are the roads I use to take long bike rides during the weeks of warm weather  stretching from May to late fall.

The bike I ride is half my age. It belonged to our kids. By no means is it  in mint  condition and while it certainly is in need of some minor repairs, it serves me well. I guess the roads are like the bike. They, too, have areas that need some maintenance but  other than some small holes, cracks and bumps, they are holding up to the variety of vehicles that use them every day.

Today, during a ride I made my way up a familiar route to add mileage to my workout. At one intersection I encountered a “road closed” sign. Well, that’s for cars I told myself and kept pedaling. As I rode along the well maintained gravel road I began to wonder why the road was closed. All appeared good to me. In fact, this particular gravel road was quite smooth. After I climbed a familiar hill my eyes saw the answer to my pondering. Where a small bridge with a culvert is constructed, a huge hole was in the center of the road. Anyone driving a vehicle and not being aware of its presence would be encountering a very unpleasant experience with the possibility of losing a tire. I, on the other hand, being on my bike navigated the blockades marking the hole with great ease.

How does today’s ride and others teach me about life? I’m constantly reminded when I encounter bumps, cracks, ruts,  or hills that my life isn’t always smooth. Knowing that though, I equip myself for situations and circumstances much like I do for a bike ride. Before leaving the house, I make sure there’s air in the tires, that my brakes are operating and no debris is in the chain or spokes of the wheels. I always wear a helmet and a bright-colored shirt. My water bottle is strapped to my waist and my cell phone is tucked away–mainly to track my workout but obviously in case of an emergency.

Most mornings I equip myself for the day by eating a good breakfast, spending time reading scripture and talking to God. Many mornings I don’t do all the talking; I allow Him to speak to me instead. I know there are a lot of areas in my character that are bumpy, cracked, maybe full of dangerous holes that only He can come along and fix. I’m good with that because my God is a good, good Father and is far more smarter and wiser than I could ever imagine. I am resting assured that He is equipping me, bringing me to maturity and teaching me to stand firm while He does the work. His work in my life gives me hope and great excitement although I realize the finished work in me will not be completed until I am welcomed to my heavenly home. As long as I don’t put up  any road blocks to the work that He needs to do in my life I am on the right path. And maybe,  I will not encounter too many big holes on the paths I choose in my day-to-day activities and decisions. If–and there is really no “if” to it….I create my own mistakes or hardships,  my prayer is that God will put up a road block to keep me protected–and that I’ll have the ability to navigate through  when the time is right and all is well.

Ephesians 2:10 “For we (ME!) am God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us (ME!) to do.”

I grew up with a father who was a woodworker, not by trade, but as a hobby and more importantly, as a way to furnish his home with beautiful pieces of furniture fashioned from his own hands and tools. Later, as we children established our own homes he continued building pieces of furniture that filled our rooms too. Many times we received handcrafted pieces as a gift or upon personal request.

Dad was blessed with an ability to build beautiful furniture. I can still see him sitting in his chair, clipboard in hand, graph paper secured in place and his pencil gently gliding from square to square as he designed his next project. His printing and drawings were always completed with neatness  in mind and purpose. He was able to transfer his “vision” for a piece of furniture from his mind to paper, and then paper to each piece of wood put through the saw, router, sander…whatever tool was needed to complete the project.

From where I’m sitting please allow me to give you a tour of our home and tell you briefly what we have that was made by my dad. Our wedding gift was a curio cabinet. It holds small family heirloom items along with other things I have collected or saved over the course of our marriage. In the corner is a hutch that was in mom s dining room. I’m sitting on a bench at our dining table, built from one I spied in a catalog years ago.

Our sofa table is in the living room and proudly displays family photos. There’s a footstool to match a purchased rocker. The side wall is home to the bookcase which holds the encyclopedia set gifted to our children from their grandmother. The larger wall of the living room holds a clock, one of many that he handcrafted. I also remember the numerous trips to Chicago he and mom made in order to purchase the movements for each clock he built.

Both bathrooms have cabinets made by dad because they surpass  what can be purchased elsewhere. (At least that’s my opinion). Our headboard was not only made by dad, but he used wood that came from my brother’s property…double bonus!

In the basement is a wagon. It’s an original in every sense of the word. The blueprints for the “Dan Wagon” are registered and patented.  The wagon is showing a lot of wear, evidence of our son’s enjoyment. Next to the wagon is an equally worn out, tired horse. Both kids “rode” this horse into a state of needing rest and rejuvenation. (It’s waiting to be properly groomed by someone who knows tired horses).

This morning I read the verse at the top of this writing. A sense of awe I cannot describe descended on me. The kind of awe I’m feeling can only be explained as a deep sense of God’s love for me by “creating” me as an original. No duplicates. His “blueprint” was using His own image and tweaking it to be “me”. Part of the blueprint includes His “purpose” for me which was prepared in advance as well. God? Did you sit in Your favorite chair and use graph paper and a writing utensil as you visualized me? When the “exact look” was given to You, is that when you transferred Your “image” to paper? How many heavenly drawers did You open to retrieve those things that are called my “purpose”?

I’m the daughter of two fathers who possessed great workmanship. My earthly father used his own talents and “purpose” to bless his family and friends with pieces that will age with time. My heavenly Father used His abilities to create and bless me with spiritual gifts that still grow  and mature as long as I breathe…..but i know when I leave my earthy home and am joined in Heaven to my Father, those “things” I have fashioned with the use of my “gifts” and “purpose” will live on in homes , hearts and minds of my loved ones. At least that is my prayer. Part of that prayer includes asking God to encourage anyone who may be wondering about their. purpose or feeling insignificant. Can I tell you that in the morning quiet of my home today, God’s presence was yet overwhelmingly loud, profoundly loving. If He can do and “be” that for me, consider He is able for you too. I think I see Him picking up clipboard, paper, and a pencil. Something’s coming!

When my dad was employed as the chief building inspector for the city I grew up in, he met a man with a dream and desire to build a house. This gentleman, whom dad knew quite well, walked into the inspection department one morning, brandishing a new hammer held high in his hand, complete with the price tag still attached and declared to dad “I need a building permit; I want to build a house.” While that request would ordinarily be a welcome transaction, dad knew better than to pursue issuing the permit. You see, dad knew something. He knew his friend did not know how to use a hammer let alone undertake a massive building project. Dad was faced with two options,issue the permit and allow his friend to fail or discuss the enormity of the project and persuade him to hire a contractor. Dad chose the latter.

There was a second man who came to dad’s office one day with the same request. He wasn’t holding a hammer though; he was grasping a dream and desire to purchase a home and turn it into a place of ministry to young boys who were on the wrong path of life. Instead of a hammer, he was brandishing a deep scar across his face, most likely caused in one of his gang related fights as a teen or surviving the walls of prison where he found himself after losing the ability to escape the law enforcement system. His “hammer” was his deep abiding faith in Jesus which  he planned  to use rebuilding the wounded and destroyed lives that he was seeing all around him on the streets where he lived.

I see similarities between these two men as well as their differences. One had a tool, a dream, but no knowledge how to use it. The other had a dream, a tool, and a passion to fuel his knowledge. His dream was to “reach” young boys, to share his experiences and hopefully turn a life in the right direction. His “tool” was the Bible coupled  with faith and knowledge to speak from a heart that held experiences many don’t survive.

I don’t know the full ending to the first man’s request to build a home. I know that dad was able to talk him out of doing so, to reconsider. I also remember hearing dad tell me that the second man was successful in purchasing a home in the inner city, repairing it, and holding meetings that were alive with messages of hope, firm warnings, and hard truths stemming from God’s Word and his brutal years while imprisoned.

As I recalled these two stories from dad’s on-the-job days, I could not help but think I’m not unlike either of these men. I’ve never been proficient using a hammer, but not for lack of trying. There was a time in my life when I owned a Bible, but I didn’t read it. I never studied it. It was on a bookshelf collecting dust. But, for some reason I thought as long as I had that Bible I must “be all right”. But God. But His Holy Spirit. A relationship between Christ and me happened 38 years ago. His Voice spoke through the sermon of a beloved pastor and suddenly my  dusty Bible was removed, cleaned up, and was put to work rebuilding my life. I gleaned from the hard truths found in those pages and absorbed teachings from various ministers who shared God’s love for me along with testimonies of God’s goodness in their lives and others.

I fondly recall one of our church’s pastors telling a few us one time “I am always amazed when I visit folks in their home. They’ll have a beautiful Bible on the coffee table in perfect condition, thinking I’ll be impressed. Nothing could be further than the truth. Instead, show me a Bible with well worn pages, writing on pages and margins, with a cover barely intact. That’s what I want to see.” I’ve never forgotten that example. I took it to heart and am amazed that at my age I’ve already worn out a few Bibles doing exactly what he described.

God is my hammer. My hammer is the Bible. Together I think we’ve built a pretty good life together with more adventures to come!

In the midst of an ordinary day or week lies the possibility to entertain a variety of emotions. As humans we come pre-equipped with a wide range of emotions and feelings, from deep sorrow to over the moon happiness. Both can cause us to explode, can’t they?

Off and on for the past several weeks I’ve been experiencing some disappointment and sadness  and in the course of responding to these specific feelings, I’m also exercising newly learned principles to take responsibility for myself, my own words, thoughts and any subsequent actions. To do so contrary to that teaching, causes me to run the risk of trying to fix, rescue, control, manipulate, pout, become co-dependent and even angry. Furthermore, there’s an old habit I’m also working on breaking and that’s drawing others into my situation, those who don’t belong in my “living room of emotions” until I’ve worked through these things in my own head and heart. I’m beginning to rely on the One Person I can run to first when challenges come my way. I’m turning to God first; others as needed come secondary or maybe not at all.

My daily Bible reading took me to Genesis 8 which describes the aftermath of God flooding the earth, how the waters receded and Noah releasing a raven and then a dove to determine if dry land had appeared on the face of the earth. The raven kept flying back and forth until the water dried up on the earth. How long did that lone bird stay airborne? The answer isn’t given but I’m imagining it was a long time and that the poor bird had to have grown weary being in flight for many days and nights. Aren’t some of our challenges similar to the raven? We find ourselves in a state of distress, deep sorrow, maybe even fear and we ask “how long do I have to be in this place?….when will I see a break though?”

As we continue reading in the chapter we witness Noah sending a dove after observing the raven’s flight pattern. The dove couldn’t find a place to land and unlike the raven, returned to Noah and the safety of the ark. The ark became a place of rest for the dove–again–after having been on board for many days! Noah, after waiting a week, released the dove a second time. That evening the dove returned to Noah bearing an olive leaf in its mouth. The leaf was “fresh”, not spoiled. The leaf gave Noah the information he needed–dry land was out there! Yet, before disembarking from the massive boat that was his protection and home, he sent the dove out again, but this time the bird did not return. Indeed, dry land had appeared and the dove must have done what it was created to do–thrive on land and in the air.

How often have I behaved like the raven–launching myself into a frenzy of worry and over-thinking–unable to settle and rest. Can I be more like the dove, who was unable to settle down and rest, and rather than stay in an airborne frenzy, returned to her place of rest, her safe place, back to Noah. She knew where to go and when to return.

I underlined the verse that said the dove brought a freshly picked olive leaf. Not a branch, a leaf. A delicate, light weight, beautiful green leaf. Traditionally used in cultures as a symbol of peace and reconciliation–extending an olive branch–a quickening in my spirit encouraged me that I can be assured that in the midst of uncomfortable circumstances, I can reach for hope and know that “new life” is waiting for me–more specifically–“new changes”.

Like Noah sending out a dove, I can reach–extend my thought life heavenwards and ask “how long will this last Father? When will I see a break through?” The dove and its olive branch are reminding me that I can “reach for hope”. I also know that I may have to “wait” a little bit…maybe a week, maybe a month, maybe longer. Although I’m in God’s presence, being so doesn’t promise me I’m on his time-table. After all, the great flood took 40 days and nights of rain, of heavenly and earthly floodgates being opened and pouring water from above and below the ark. When the rain stopped, it was over 150 days before dry land appeared. Noah and his family had nowhere to escape because they didn’t need to once on board the ark. They were fully protected and completely provide for during their journey of a life time! Their “new life” and “new changes” came when they were able to open the door of the ark and walk on dry land. Was the land wet under their feet? Did they sink at all when walking about investigating their new surroundings? Did they find the olive grove where the dove plucked her luscious leaf? We don’t know. We aren’t told. What we ARE told is that Noah built an altar and worshiped the Lord. At the end of a horrible ordeal for himself and his family, he worshiped. He offered a sacrifice. He acknowledged the One who gave him a crazy plan to build a boat to soar above a plan of massive destruction, yet come to “rest” at a place of “new beginnings”….”new hope”…”a new promise”.

I am learning a lot from one verse. Genesis 8:11. ….’there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf’. There in the midst of my sadness and disappointment will come a freshly plucked olive leaf and I will gladly accept it. With my olive leaf in hand, I will return to my source of “safety” and “rest” which is my Father’s lap with big strong arms extended to embrace me when I need to  return and consistently “go” to for hope and all that goes with it to bring a break through.

In the midst of recent publicity regarding Bruce Jenner declaring  he is really a woman, I have some thoughts regarding the topic. I’ve been mulling over and over in my mind what I’d say to those who have decided  Mr. Jenner is the epitome of ‘courage’ and ‘bravery’ for what he claims is finally being able to confront what he’s believed for a very long time, that he’s a woman trapped inside a man’s body. In addition, I’ve also given thought to what I might say if I had an audience with Jenner.

Because Facebook is my go-to social media site, that is the platform that has shown me various opinions that are pro and con towards Jenner. Showing up in my news feed are photos of what many of you in my circle of friends consider to be ‘courage’ or ‘bravery’ in light of his declaration of gender identification. Some of those I’ve witnessed include but are not limited to:

• a photo of two soldiers on the battleground
• firefighters rescuing a small child from a burning building
• amputees competing in a marathon

Do I think the three that I’ve listed above exhibit courage and bravery? Absolutely. Comparing Jenner’s announcement that he believes his gender identification is that of a female, do I also believe that’s a definition of courage and bravery? Yes, I do. Having said that, however, does not dismiss my misgivings about how much publicity is being given to Jenner merely because he is a celebrity. If he were a member of a small community, going to work everyday, enjoying his family and social connections would his announcement be given the same attention? I don’t believe it would. Unless an incident is captured on film or in print, it runs the risk of being unnoticed or unrecorded.

I acknowledge Jenner’s willingness to put himself in front of the public cameras once again, only this time for a very controversial and deeply personal topic.  I would like his defenders to deeply consider that indeed, just as courage and bravery come in the form of those who go to war, fight fires, run races missing a leg or an arm, there are many individuals who have chosen to overcome tremendous obstacles in their own lives and have not gained any amount of public attention outside of family and friends. Consider:

• a young man recently diagnosed with cancer. He’s going through chemo treatment, fighting for his life
• the young woman who has lived for years in marriage, only to be betrayed and is now a single parent
• a young family whose child died unexpectedly, having shown no signs of illness
• the many men and women in our nation who are unemployed, struggling every day to pay bills and feed families or themselves
• the loss of an infant, only weeks old following a healthy delivery
• On a global scale, the innocents who are being killed every day by extremist militants

From my own family experiences, I share about these times when courage needed to replace fear:

• Learning about my dad being called to serve in the Korean Conflict, leaving my mother home with my two older brothers. She didn’t even know how to drive at that point in their marriage.
• Hearing my mother utter the word ‘cancer’ during an unsuspecting Sunday afternoon telephone conversation and later caring for her in the last 3 days of her life
• Holding vigil by my mother-in-law’s hospital bed as she succumbed to the effects of emphysema
• Putting my oldest child on a plane to go serve on the mission field in a country torn by poverty, not once but three times
• Watch and care for a father ravaged by the effects of Alzheimer’s disease

Both lists have the potential to be  exhaustive examples of emotional and physical pain. My attempt at describing what brings me to tears may not do justice to those in my circle of influence who are suffering in one way or another, so by no means am I diminishing what anyone else is enduring right now in the face of great adversity.

So, if I had a conversation with Jenner, I would have to tell him that although I am unable to comprehend his personal struggle and while I may not agree with the amount of publicity and controversy surrounding his desired transformation, at the end of the day I would choose he be treated with compassion rather than hero status. I would remind him that his decisions leave many in his family angry, confused, and sharing a public limelight they didn’t ask for by merely carrying his name. I would remind him that no degree of manipulation to his physical body changes the fact that he was born a male. No matter how much he thinks about being a woman, he will never know that distinction. His body can plant a seed of life, but he cannot bring one forth. He can offer hugs and kisses to a newborn, but he cannot give life sustaining nourishment offered by the delicacy of mother’s milk. To claim he is a woman is a certain untruth. He can only masquerade as one. Therein lies the heartache I feel for Jenner. Those who defend Jenner say that he should ‘no longer have to live a lie’. With all due respect, I have to disagree. Jenner’s physical parts define him as male. His mind can take him to all his imaginary experiences living as a woman, but that’s as far he will go–the boundaries of dreams that cannot become a reality. Even if he achieves alterations to his body giving him breasts, takes medications to prohibit the growth of hair in unwanted places, applies makeup to enhance his  eyes and lips, he is still trapped in a posture of ‘living a lie’.

Allow me to go on record stating that I do not dislike Jenner based on his announcement that he wants to be a woman. He’s made his decision and his followers are fueling his temporary popularity. The words ‘courageous’ and ‘brave’ have been assigned to him during this time, but soon they will fade along with the disappearance of his name and face from magazine covers. What remains will be the possibility of continued inner turmoil as he tries to redefine a body that can only be masked and perhaps a society that will take a long, hard look at the choices of words used to describe someone’s life decisions. In our different lives we are all courageous. We are all brave.