Rubber Duckies and other Essentials

When we gave the grandkids a bath last week, Lucy got to the mesh bag of bath toys before I did, and picked out all the rubber duckies and her other favorites before handing the rest to her baby brother. It didn't even bother Freddie; he doesn't know the difference between rubber duckies and plastic boats. But Granddad didn't miss the opportunity to teach "sharing."  Lucy relinquished some of the duckies she admitted looked more like "boy ducks."

Our Bible study this week is on greed and coveting. Adult versions of not sharing our rubber duckies.  My children have both spent time ministering in third world countries--Caitlin and Layne spent two years in the Dominican Republic and Chris and Chanda just moved from Laos to Thailand. Their experiences opened my eyes to just how spoiled we are in the United States. We're all rich in the United States. And yet the poor can covet too.

While doing the lesson, I realized covetousness is about something much deeper than rubber duckies or ferraris or diamond jewelry. At the bottom of Lucy's need to have all the rubber duckies is her need to feel completely loved--a feeling that was threatened by the presence of a little brother with whom she has to share her parents. Of course she is loved just as much as before, and having a younger sibling will help her grow in ways she couldn't as an only child.

I have a deep need for unconditional love, too. The only one who can give me this love is God. I may try to get it from people, but they will disappoint me. And I may feel disappointed in God when He allows things in my life that seem uncomfortable and difficult, even if I reluctantly acknowledge they may help me grow.

I think we will only overcome covetousness when we realize that no thing and no one can take the place of God in our lives. 

Scenes from the Olypen

A friend asked me what my days look like now, and the short answer is, not much. Physical therapy and shopping in Sequim, church, Bible study, and babysitting when Caitlin needs me. Not sleeping well because of leg pain.

But my most absorbing activity is discovering a new world. Not the Olympic Mountains, or the Ho Rainforest.  They are just two of the awesome things here, but there are so many other littler, daily discoveries.

Flocks of wild swans inhabit the farmland near us.

White-crowned sparrows here are not white at all.

Ice fog coats  the ground and freezes my fingers.

I ride the ferry to pick up my grandchildren.

Signs flash on the road to warn you of elk in the area. The elk are tagged so that they set off the lights when they get near the road. I've never seen it, but I'm told they gather together slowly, and start crossing the road, first a few, and then the whole herd.

There is a "Schmuck Road," a "Kitchen-Dick Road," and a "Johnny-Come-Lately Creek."

In the Jackson, Mo., post office, the clerk puts extra tape on my box before I even ask. In the Sequim office, the clerk tells me she can't put any tape on my box before I even ask.

What am I supposed to say when a woman standing next to me in the post office  says, "You have small feet!"? Am I supposed to say thank you?

The Blue Pinhole

We live on the outskirts of "The Blue Hole." Seattle gets tons of rain, but nearer the Olympic range, the rain clears the mountains and drops precipitation away from the foothills, like a jumper clearing the space just beyond the hurtle. We get less rain than Seattle, but the exact center of that "Blue Hole" varies. Sometimes it isn't very big. My husband enthusiastically pointed out the blue in the sky today. It was just a bit of blue veining between cirrus clouds, which were, I admit whiter and brighter than the gray clouds usually are.

Sometimes I feel like my gratitude is like that--I'm trying to find blue pinholes in my gray life. It feels phony, looking at the gray sky and calling it blue.

But behind those clouds, the sky is really blue.  That is the truth. Maybe you've had the experience of flying on an overcast day. Suddenly the plane breaks through the clouds, and the sun is shining brightly. It was there all along; you just have to get to the right perspective.

There can be a lot of gray overcast in our lives, covering the true perspective of God's grace. If we can find "blue pinholes" in our day, they are evidences of the blue sky of God's love for us, which is always there.

Listing what we are thankful for, no matter how small those things may seem, will keep us in touch with the grace that is always there.

Pollyanna Syndrome

My husband called my gratitude day "The Pollyanna Syndrome." I loved it. We all need more Pollyanna.

I complained that we don't see cardinals out here. Sorry if that seems trivial; I miss them. But we do see a lot of interesting birds, like the varied thrush.

I had to call American Express, and talked to India--outsourcing is one of my pet peeves. But I was grateful that the young man spoke perfect English, albeit with a Hindi accent, and my problem was quickly resolved.

My biggest complaint was the pain in my legs. On my walk, I found myself quietly groaning--a non-verbal complaint, I decided, so I started to sing. I sang two hymns, surprising myself by remembering several verses of each one.

Leg pain is just going to be part of my life for the time being, so I need to learn how to deal with it better.

Today I am grateful for:
1. Sun that came out, after a gray morning.
2. A truck coming to Chris in Thailand.
3. That I can attend church without fear of persecution.
4. That I can walk upstairs fairly easily.
5.  The beautiful view out my dining room window.

Lessons in Gratitude

My women's group is going through James MacDonald's Lord, Change My Attitude. This week we are to write down five things we are thankful for every night, then read it back the first thing in the morning. My first list, Jan. 18:
1) My children and grandchildren (Mike said that could be stretched out to make the whole list, but that's too easy.)
2)  My new friend D. (name withheld for her privacy)
3) Electric blankets (He said list the little things too)
4) A good hair stylist (Not such a little thing!)
5) My salvation

My prayer for tomorrow: Let me speak spiritually to others with a melody in my heart (Eph. 5:19)

I got up the next morning with bad pain in my left knee and the radio talking about people being blown to pieces in Algeria. Not the greatest incentives to start my day with praise. Tomorrow, no radio alarm, and remember to sleep with a pillow  between my knees as the therapist suggested--  which really does help.

My knee throbbing, I read the list over, and I am still thankful. MacDonald said, "Gratitude can be lived as a discipline." But discipline takes effort.

Next exercise: For 24 hours, don't complain. Write down every time I do. It's 10  a.m. Go. 

Blue Country

My days have become a little too much Retirementville. Because of my knees, I go to physical therapy several times a week. My therapist is a pretty young woman who moved here from Alaska. She says it is wilder and prettier than the Olympic Peninsula, and her clients were mainly injured athletes. Now in Sequim we’re old people. It doesn’t make me feel better that so many people I see in the office are on a walker or in a wheelchair. They just show me my future! But not yet. I’m walking again, and driving myself.

Then I visit Sequim Wal-Mart, which  is filled with retirees. It’s a Northwest Florida.

It‘s more expensive than in Missouri. What isn’t more expensive out here? They have a fabric department—Jackson, eat your heart out. We old people complained, apparently, and we got the fabric back.

While I am rummaging through the five-dollar DVD bin at Wal-Mart, the lady across from me says, "Are you finding anything in there that's not trash?" She is a non-descript middle-aged white woman, probably about 60, with an old-lady hairstyle, that I would have a hard time picking out in a lineup. A lot like me.

I smile at her. “I’m looking for a kid video I can watch with my grandkids this weekend.”

“Oh! I see.”

Culture war alert! When I was in Missouri, I was (usually) in Red Country. But Sequim, Washington, is a battleground of blue and red. You must constantly show your red (or blue) flag. It’s in Clallam County, which votes pretty red; next to it, Jefferson County is blue. The county seat of Jefferson is Port Townsend, which has wonderful Victorian houses that sell for millions. In Clallam County, they say Port Townsend is filled with old hippies. We live almost on the border of the two.

A large percentage of the customers at Sequim Wal-Mart are white senior citizens. A large percentage of the clerks are Hispanic or Asian—or young.

Convinced that I am safely red, the lady starts telling me her life story. She came from Long Island. The property she used to own there is now underwater from Sandy. God took care of her, she tells me. She is delighted to learn I am from upstate New York. She tells me about how her daughter got pregnant as a teenager, how she raised her grandson to be a fine young man, but that his mother is still living a troubled life. Since she has already mentioned God several times, I ask her if she has found a church. She has; she goes to a charismatic church in Port Angeles. Okay, so she won’t be interested in Sequim Bible Church—though she has heard of it, and she expresses to me her approval of my choice.

Sequim Bible Church has a good pastor with a strong evangelical message. Its main problem is that too much of the congregation looks like Sequim—a lot of retired people. Ministry to cancer patients is very big in this church. They are good Christians, but many are getting too old for active leadership.

So, less than sixth months after we came here, Mike has been asked to go up for elder. There will be a vote, but that is almost a formality. They want him. He will be the first elder to be chosen from the contemporary service, which most of the younger people attend.

Now that I’m mobile again, I’ll be attending a women’s Bible study at the church. No Bible Study Fellowship on the Olympic Peninsula (the closest is in Bremerton, on the Kitsap). I’ll look into their AWANA program. It meets at a public school—I want to see how that works!—and involves several other churches. That would be a good way to meet people outside SBC…