(Becoming Jane)

          “One more step and I’ll shoot.”

          My adversary chuckles, spits, and takes one more step toward me.

          “Really-one more step and I’ll shoot.”

           His eyes never blink as he takes one more step.

You get the idea-I’d be a goner.

My kids figured this out a long time ago. Make your beds before you leave, take out the trash, fold your laundry, do the dishes, homework first…. All mere suggestions.

When did I become such a wimp?

Establishing, requiring, and maintaining limits have never been my particular strengths. Apparently, I’m not the only one who can’t identify the last straw.

Obese people who become trapped in their own beds because of their inability to physically move their weight didn’t recognize their violating morsel. Experts tell us that abused women experience eleven violent encounters before they report their abuser. Why eleven? Why not one? Or two? Or ten? What makes eleven the last straw?

The employee who hands over his badge because he’s had one too many incidents of belittlement in front of co-workers, the teenager who grabs a backpack in the middle of the night and disappears after the final verbal blow by a parent, the neighbor who calls the city complaining about an unkempt yard, the bullied schoolkid who takes a gun to school-what makes people finally decide it’s the last straw?

A recent movie depicts a character overlooking her husband’s adultery, but demanding a divorce when she finds a package of stashed cigarettes-the last straw of broken trust in an already-broken relationship.

Recognizing the last straw is about identifying the point when the grievances exceed your limits of endurance-it’s about being able to say “enough.” Really.

Cameras, strobe lights, hip hop, line dancing, off-key Mamma Mia choruses, a live band, Italian cuisine, friends holding hands, hugs, and laughter. Something every mother wants her child to experience.

Ten years ago, I struggled to accept the reality of my daughter’s special needs. Developmentally delayed? Mentally retarded? No, not my child. The wheelchairs, faces of Down syndrome young adults, and awkward dance moves would’ve unmasked my fears, revealing the concrete reality that my child’s future would be different.

But last night amidst the disco lights I envisioned a brighter future for my daughter. One with people who invested in her life-the workers in the college transitional life skills program who put together the event, the musicians who volunteered their time to enrich the kids’ days, the parents who daily walk beside their kids, the siblings who cheer them along. And the friends. Other young adults who know their struggles, accept them, and love them.

Throughout her life she’s had friends, but they were there for a season, until they “outgrew” her. Kind kids, but they didn’t have special needs, and their lives moved on. Bethany always seemed to be left behind looking wistfully at the dust of long-gone friendships.

These kids who bounced around the dance floor with her last night will probably never outgrow her. They genuinely like her. She finally fits somewhere.

So we began our homeschooling journey.

My second daughter’s severe seizures beginning at the age of four limited our schooling options, so we continued homeschooling.

Now, twenty years later, my oldest child has graduated from college (last year) with the highest distinguished honors. Scholarships and honors line her resume, including an internship at the White House. Homeschooling apparently worked for her. My second daughter is now in a transitional life skills program for those with special needs at the local junior college. My son graduates from our homeschool this year, and my youngest daughter, next year.

Some years I loved homeschooling; other years, I struggled with it. Not sure I would do it all again.

I’m mostly satisfied with the results of our homeschooling experience, though. Through the years the kids pursued their interests and cultivated their unique gifts-they’re all talented musicians. They developed athletic skills, served on mission trips and sports camps, experienced the world of musical theater, traveled throughout the U.S. and England, and even sang the national anthem at the Ballpark in Arlington for the Texas Rangers in front of over 37,000 fans. The friendships they’ve cultivated will last a lifetime, they treat others with respect, and they’re fun to be around. Oh yes, they also do well academically.

I’m most grateful that they love the Lord and seek to please Him. I’ve rarely felt tempted to play the Holy Spirit’s role in their lives-they’re already sensitive to His leading. And I love the way they love each other. Nothing can compare to those rewards.

From as early as I can remember, I’ve known His presence. Not that I was born a Christian-there was a moment in time when I gave all of myself to all I knew of Jesus. But I was young when I received Christ, so most of my life has been spent enjoying the fellowship of almighty God. Quite a privilege for someone who’s just dust.

And then I encounter crossroads. Decisions to follow His standards-His direction-or take an easier route. Struggles. Comfort vs. hard choices. Sometimes I grow weary, lose heart, and make decisions from a place of discouragement. Why bother? Most of us have encountered a similar place at some time in our lives.

Like Eve, we may question God- Are You holding out on me? Are You really good? Or like Esau, we may find ourselves indifferent to the privilege of being His child-we may take our birthright lightly. Like Samson, we may be driven by the impulse of our eyes, living for the things in life that look good.

Whether the struggle is as apparent as a one-time car mishap or as hidden as a quiet accusation of the heart, God knows. And while we can be confident that His discipline doesn’t usually come in the form of lightning bolts, we can pray that it doesn’t come through silence. Life’s greatest tragedy doesn’t intrude as fire from heaven; it comes stealthily-taking His presence lightly, disobeying our Lord, and neglecting the most precious relationship offered to us. Grieving Him robs us of our most treasured gift… the whispers of God.

A few years ago at the national basketball tournament, the top-ranked girls’ team surprised Bethany with a specially decorated Rider t-shirt before the big game. They wanted to show appreciation for their most enthusiastic fan. She still wears the black and red treasure to most games.

Yesterday, we walked into another basketball gym. This day was different, though. The players struggled to dribble, pass, and shoot. A few times they seemed confused about which basket to dribble toward. But they smiled. Players celebrated plays with high fives. They cheered for each other and themselves.

Bethany was on the court playing in the state Special Olympics basketball game.

And sitting in the stands were Rider players and their families. They got up early on a Saturday morning to cheer for their number-one Special Olympics player.

I dropped off my special needs daughter at her transitional life skills class before I got gas again, ran to the bank, paid bills, stopped at the cleaners, did two loads of laundry, made urgent phone calls, picked up my daughter at school, fixed my kids’ lunch, took my youngest daughter to basketball practice, and researched colleges that looked like a good fit for my baseball-player son.  

Somehow, this week will include four trips to and from the local junior college, three basketball practices, five baseball games, one basketball game, shopping for a prom dress, five loads of uniforms to be washed plus all the regular laundry for a family of six, a doctor appointment, two piano lessons, a piano ensemble recital, a voice lesson, a Bible class and a writer’s guild meeting (for me), a basketball fund-raising event, picture-gathering for my son’s upcoming graduation power point presentation, and grocery shopping twice-I can only fit five gallons of milk in my fridge at a time and with four kids over the age of sixteen that’s two grocery runs a week.

Also cluttering this week’s bulging calendar-a Special Olympics basketball tournament and a MHMR state survey for my special needs daughter, including mountains of paperwork and a home visit, requiring, of course, a clean and orderly home, a TB test and follow-up screening, and documentation in pristine order. They’ll be sure to ask, “Has the cat been vaccinated?”

Where the heck did I stash my state-required in-case-of-terrorist-attack kit?

And I’d like to get a book proposal finished this week.

Lupus management requires a daily thirty-minute workout (not in the sun) with eight-ten hours of sleep a night, plus naps on the tiring days. The doctor says reduced stress is a must. Right. Highly nutritious meals and plenty of sunscreen. I don’t have time to apply sunscreen multiple times a day and does Instant Breakfast count as highly nutritious?

I don’t think I have a point to this blog. I merely wanted to whine. Indulgent of me.

I’m sure most moms can relate-we all need a break. So cancel a few things this week and hang out in Starbucks for a few moments. Maybe we’ll run into each other. I’ll be the one napping in the corner cushy chair.

It’s the same in other areas of life. When we practice the fundamentals in daily living, we have a reserve to fall back on when we encounter the “big leagues,” the high-pressure moments that threaten to un-do us. Those moments when we don’t have the luxury to think, to ponder, to analyze, to work through a number of scenarios, to brainstorm… when we need an instant response, and we need it to be right. That’s when all the practice pays off.

Luke touched on this principle-He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also in much. When we learn to live with integrity when no one’s looking, we’ll make the right choices in different moments on a larger stage. Paying attention to the details that matter to God reaps a benefit beyond the scope of small things.

We learn to live in those “little” moments by sticking to the basics of our faith-trusting and obeying God, saying “no” to wrong choices, sitting quietly in His presence. Listening for His voice as we read His word. Believing in His goodness. Taking our questions to Him. Giving Him our messes with all the accompanying emotions, fears, and anxieties. Expressing gratitude for Who He is and thanking Him for all He does. The “little” everyday moments of Christian living.

Getting back to the basics of practicing Christian disciplines on a daily basis prepares us for the bigger moments of life. Figuring out how to struggle well in everyday issues makes it easier to battle in the hard times. If we’ve practiced the basics in low-pressure moments, those fundamentals will carry us in the heat of the game.

I love her straightforwardness.

Jesus was the same way. When followers pressed in around him, when lepers cried out to Him, when blind men reached for Him-He often asked, “What do you want me to do?”

The question probably startled them as well. Well, isn’t it obvious? We want relief. We want You to fix our circumstances, to deliver us from pain, to heal us, to change hearts, to drive away our enemies, to cause our problems to disappear, to make it all go away… to be God in the details of our lives. To do something-anything-on our behalf.

Sometimes He acts by intervening in dramatic ways. Parting seas, commanding walls to fall down, defeating the enemy by raining down hailstones from heaven, pronouncing healing in an instant, breathing life into the dead. Other times, most times, in fact, He uses His still, quiet voice and whispers His direction into our hearts.

When the leaders of the early church faced an issue of great dissension and debate, they came together for discussion. They examined the words of the prophets; they reflected on the wonders of God. Prayer is implied, because they mention agreement with the Holy Spirit. The next part, my friend, author and speaker Jan Winebrenner pointed out-they used good judgment. “It seemed good to them.” (The writer of Acts 15 uses this phrase three times.) It came down to presenting the problem to God, examining His word and previous works, and using thoughtful consideration to make a decision that “seemed good” to them. Then they acted.

Sometimes God’s will is like a glorious sunset painted in the sky. No doubt it’s from God. Other times, He acts in more subtle ways. He gives us the wisdom, courage, and strength to act, to follow the direction of His leading, to reason through our circumstances under the leadership of the Holy Spirit. Although I’m kinda partial to standing on the sidelines and watching God move mountains, sometimes He wants us to be more involved in the process of working through our problems. God often leads us to use good judgment-common sense-to do something ourselves.

Some say taunting arrogance, lack of discernment, and naivete led him to speak of his dreams. Some say he deserved the scolding from his father and even the harsh treatment he received from his brothers. Some say he never should’ve spoken of the mysteries revealed to him in the darkness.

Perhaps.

Perhaps if he’d just kept his mouth shut, thought before he spoke, put himself in his listeners’ shoes… maybe if he had just pondered the words in his heart without spilling it all out to his family…. He could’ve avoided the pain of the next thirteen years-slavery and imprisonment in a foreign land.

But as we witness the life of Joseph unfold, we see a young man who believed God. Speaking of God’s work was a natural part of who Joseph was-he couldn’t stop speaking of what God was doing in his life. He certainly didn’t hide from his own family what he learned from God. Surely family was the place to share his most intimate thoughts, his quirky dreams, his good news. Wouldn’t they want to know what God was up to in his life? Who else was he going to tell?

His message was true. The events he foretold eventually came to pass. But his willingness to trust his family with his dreams came with a price. Joseph was misunderstood, rejected, and even hated. It wasn’t his own sin that led to Joseph’s slavery. His brothers chose to embrace murder in their hearts. Joseph wasn’t responsible for their hatred and he didn’t deserve their response.

But Joseph didn’t let their unfair treatment muzzle him. We later see him boldly proclaiming the truth of other dreams-even though he knew the listeners could’ve responded like his brothers, with ridicule and harsh consequences. He understood God was behind the dreams, and knowing that truth gave him the courage to speak up. As in the dreams of his youth, God had given him a message and he couldn’t keep quiet.