Category: Hope

On the Verge: Finding Your Tipping Point

Grandpa Detrick's ca 1890 Seth Thomas Clock
Grandpa Detrick’s ca 1890 Seth Thomas Clock

 

Today Apple announced the new Apple Watch. For somewhere between $300 and $10K you can own one yourself. I understand the $10K version is 18 karat gold. If you want to use it to tell time, you better have good eyes or good glasses, because the time display is small—or so I am told.

For most of my life, I have enjoyed a love/hate relationship with time. It is my greatest asset. And when I have plenty of it, time is my friend. But when I am facing a deadline and running short, frustration and anxiety turn up the pressure and seem to accelerate the clock. I try to quicken my own pace to catch up, but the minutes fly by and missed deadlines turn to missed opportunities. This results in–you guessed it–more frustration and anxiety. Only now they are joined by their close comrade, regret. This trio sings a melancholy melody in three parts:

  • If only. . ..
  • Life’s not fair!
  • Why me?

If you listen to this trio for long, you will get stuck for sure, especially when the trio is joined by their bully of an ally, self-pity. He gladly lends his voice to the newly formed quartet, singing bass. He especially enjoys the refrain, “What’s the use?”

Sound familiar? Listen to this quartet for long and you will start humming along with them. And they will steal your life, your soul, your courage. We all have to learn to listen in to a different station. I know. Been there. Done that.

Today I asked a friend, “What is the opposite of courage?” We had a good conversation about it and agreed that most people would say the opposite of courage is fear. Yet, the more I think about it, the more I believe something else. The opposite of courage is passivity. We’ve failed before. We failed again. And we will probably fail if we make another attempt. So, “what’s the use?” Passivity.

And that is a shame, because we are often on the verge of greatness. Remember the times when you said, “I can just feel it. I’m on the verge of something fantastic.” Especially when backed up by careful planning, disciplined focus, prayer, and hard work. You were launching into the confident expectation of certain achievement but landed in the bone-crushing agony of defeat. Shocked by the incredulity of the situation, you keep asking, ‘What happened? I knew I was just on the verge. . ..”

Nursing your wounds, you faintly hear that familiar old sad song. Before long you are singing along – you know all the words:

  • If only. . ..
  • Life’s not fair!
  • Why me?
  • What’s the use?

Wait a minute!  Stop the clock! Do not lose courage. Passivity is the inactive response to lost hopes and dreams. It is time for a change. You don’t have to live your life always “on the verge.” You can move past the verge. In the next few weeks, I’ll be posting on this theme and here are a few topics having to do with old clocks of all things, that will help you get past the verge and find your own tipping point:

  • Perspective – what you see on the face of the clock only presents the facts – the time in the present. What is behind the face is what keeps the hands moving.
  • Suspense – clocks have a suspension spring. Like clocks we actually need tension and drama.
  • Power – the force that provides energy – spring or weights –wound up, wound down
  • Perseverance – takes a licking and keeps on ticking
  • Alignment – the teeth in the clock’s wheels must be in perfect alignment – the front and back plates hold it all together
  • Opportunity – taking advantage of the moment – the only way the clock can move forward to the next second, minute, or hour is to take advantage of every moment’s opportunity.
  • Gratitude – accepting help from others and being grateful for the contributions of all who help you move forward
  • Leverage – the clock’s works are designed for maximum efficiency. Each part, however small, has a part to do.
  • Synergy – alone, any part would be unable to keep time. Together, they can do far more than any of them could do alone.
  • Re-calibrating – adjustments are needed in a clock, depending upon the season of the year, air pressure, age, etc.
  • Rest – recreation, restoration, oil on the pivot points.
  • Balance – the pendulum requires balance – level keel.

 

The Rest of Your Story

 

 

 

Log balanced on large rock Snoqualmie River 2-28-15 Different AngleHolding on in a precarious spot. Sometimes barely holding on, getting a grip, standing your ground, or trying to keep your balance is all you can do—just to survive. Or so it seems at the moment. And if you remain in that position for long, it is easy to feel stuck, and wonder if assistance or a chance to move on to a better place will ever come.

Is it possible in some circumstances of life that the difference between being stuck and having an opportunity to rest is our own attitude or perspective? There are striking similarities between three dictionary definitions of rest and just being stuck, with one exception.

First, the dictionary describes rest “as cessation from action, motion, labor, or exertion.” Sounds like it could describe being stuck, right? Another definition for rest is something that is “fixed or settled.” Again, you can see the similarity to being “stuck.” The third connotation for rest is where the similarity ends, as it is likened to “freedom from that which wearies or disturbs.”

When we are stuck, we typically feel weary, worried, and disturbed. But what if we used this period in our lives as an opportunity for rest? Easier said than done. I know from experience.

Perhaps one of the greatest invitations from Jesus in the Gospels is found in Matthew 11:28, “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (NLT) Weary, and carrying a heavy burden. . .sounds a lot like being stuck. Rest also sounds like being stuck—at least according to the dictionary! Perhaps the difference is a matter of our perspective and who we are trusting to bring us help and rest.

My oldest daughter Kristi sent me a powerful story this morning of a mother who discovered rest and hope in spite of the loss of a precious child. One line really caught my attention:

“Thankfulness, Hope, and Joy are not present only in good times; they are powerful reminders in the hard times that our story’s not over.”

Kristi, who has suffered a three year long battle wrestling with her own health issues while being a young wife and mother took courage from these words. Rest is a welcome relief when you feel boxed in, stuck, and helpless to resolve the circumstances that have you immobilized. I took the photo above the other day while enjoying a rare and restful hike with Kristi. Together, we pondered the forces required to place a log in such a position.

What are the chances of a log landing and lodging and staying perfectly balanced on such a rock? Especially when you consider the circumstances that brought it to rest were not restful, but the high raging floodwaters of the Snoqualmie River just below the falls. Hundreds of people, each with their own story, have passed by this very spot in the past weeks on the pathway to the lower viewing platform at Snoqualmie Falls. Perhaps they were inspired, as I hope you will be, that wherever you find yourself stuck, you will probably not be there forever. And from that place of being stuck, you may discover your next steps for your journey and be launched into the rest of your story.

What Does Love Look Like?

Jodi Dunlap Detrick ca 1972 croppedThe pretty girl with the long brown hair to complement her beautiful eyes first caught my eye, but soon captured my heart. She lit up every room she entered with her bright smile, vivacious personality, and ability to make every person feel like they were welcome and noticed. Her genuine concern for and interest in other people endeared her even more to me.

Our shared values and goals in life forged a bond that wasn’t just physical attraction or emotional feelings or intellectual stimulation, although it was all of those. Fundamentally, our bond was spiritual. The title of a song at our wedding described our commitment: “Each for the other, and both for the Lord.”

On this Valentine’s Day four decades later, I would suggest that our spiritual bond has been the most sustaining component of our relationship over the years, and it has shown me what love looks like. “What does love look like?” is perhaps life’s most persistent question. Here is what I believe:

Love is colorful. When you love, you see in vivid color, not “fifty shades of grey.” Love is light, and it dispels darkness, making the colors pop. When viewed through the eyes of love, even the dark and shady corridors of life lead us to experience rainbow moments when the light of our love and God’s love penetrates the darkness. What a joy to discover nuggets of gold revealed in the shadows and silver linings in the thunder clouds! The clouds change with the winds, and knowing that, we believe in the blue sky principle: they always follow the rain, and the rain brings flowers and growth because:

First flowering plum blossom 2-14-15Love is beauty. Not the kind of beauty that wins contests, but the beauty of acceptance and forgiveness when you have disappointed your beloved for the umpteenth time. Love is the beauty of presence when the “for better or worse” vow seems to have landed decidedly, at least for a season, on the worst side. Love is the beauty of knowing that regardless of whether we are richer or poorer, sickly or healthy, we are together. Believing that together we are better, despite our circumstances, is the glue that holds our love and marriage together. Love is the secret formula that makes every wrinkle and grey hair that comes with age more beautiful in the eyes of our beloved. And that is a beautiful thought that puts a smile on my face because we also know that:

Love is laughter. After forty years together, we share an entire secret volume of funny experiences and laughing out loud moments that rival any comedy routine. Learning to laugh and dish out our hoarded reserve of joy during the moments when life is not funny, when our plates are full of worry or sorrow—that is nourishment for the heart and soul. Love means not taking yourself too seriously, and learning to laugh out loud, both together and separately, knowing that “this, too shall pass.” And tomorrow, or maybe a year from now, our tears will be gone, and we will laugh again and realize that our greatest fears never materialized because:

Love is hope. The pictures love paints, filled with color, beauty, and laughter, provide vision for a brighter future–the hope that tomorrow will be better than today, and next year will be better than this one. Growing up on the farm, my family were “next year” people. No matter if the crops failed us this year, “next year” dad always said, would be better. It was that optimism that kept my mother and father together on a farm for more than 63 years, keeping their vows, “until death do us part.” A hopeful vision inspires optimism beyond our own ability to manipulate or manage circumstances because:

Love is faith in someone bigger than us. Love looks like having the faith and patience necessary to move the impossible mountain in our path, even if that means removing it one slow shovelful at a time. It is believing that regardless of the odds against us, with God our odds are better. It is believing that no matter how many oppose us, with God we form a majority coalition. Love looks like spending time together on our knees so we can walk the distance. It means facing a crisis with a Friend who is closer than any human could ever be. Love is faith that God is bigger than any problem we face. And love means believing that God is love, and catching a glimpse of His face every time we see someone exhibiting God’s love toward others.

What does love look like? I love the Apostle Paul’s description:

“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.”   –1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NLT

So on this Valentine’s Day, when I ask, “What does love look like?” the answer is found in the face of my sweetheart, the most Jesus-Hearted Woman I know. Jodi Detrick, thank you for being the same bubbly girl I first fell in love with so many years ago. It is a joy to journey through life with you. I love you with all my heart.

Lessons My Mother Taught Me

Madeline Detrick late 1970-early1971 Cropped PSAlthough she went to heaven more than ten years ago, I bear my mother’s imprint and think about her every day of my life. And although she never held any formal office or position in life (other than being my Cub Scout Den Mother, or Sunday School Teacher, or PTA President), and only graduated from the eighth grade, she was a leader in her own right because she influenced others–especially me. She even nurtured my love for photography, posing for this photo I took when I was in the eighth grade or so, around 1969. Here are a few lessons I learned from her. The first few of course are written tongue in cheek, but nevertheless I can literally remember her voice speaking these things:

  • My mother taught me about the circle of life: “I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of this world.”
  • My mother taught me about the road to insanity: “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ and driving me crazy making all that noise.”
  • My mother taught me patience: “You are going to sit there until you eat everything on that plate.”
  • My mother taught me about world concern: “There are millions of starving children in the world who would love to eat a meal like this.”
  • My mother taught me about delayed expectations: “You just wait until your father gets home, you’re gonna get it!”
  • My mother taught me to increase my animal vocabulary and mark my words: “You just hold your horses, if you don’t stop running around like a chicken with your head cut off, mark my words, I’m gonna be mad as a wet hen and tan your hide!”
  • My mother taught me to appreciate big numbers: “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times!”
  • My mother taught me to appreciate bony fingers: “I work my fingers to the bone around here, and you don’t appreciate it.”
  • My mother taught me about bungee jumping: “I suppose if everybody else jumped off a bridge, you would, too!”
  • Finally, my mother taught me that we are all mortal: “You better think again about what you’re planning to do because you’ll do that over my dead body!”

As a boy, I never took a lot of my mother’s hyperbole in speech very seriously. And I didn’t expect that sometime in the distant future I really would look be doing something “over her dead body” and sadly, one day more than 10 years ago her life on earth did end, and I conducted her funeral on August 30, 2002. As I reflected on that day and today, here are three of the most important lessons she taught me:

First, my mother taught me about faith. The Bible says in Hebrews 11:3 that “without faith it is impossible to please God.” My mother taught me about faith in Jesus and prayer from the time I was born. As a child I never doubted the existence of God, or the goodness of God, or the love of God because I saw God as a reality in my family. My mother was intentional about this, and she taught both by example and by being sure I was involved in activities that would nurture my faith.

Second, my mother taught me about hope. The Bible teaches us that without a vision, people perish (Proverbs 29:18). Vision is all about hope – it is about the future. My mother taught me to be optimistic – to be sure, there were times she could be moody and discouraged, but overall, she usually had a smile on her face and enthusiasm for life. She had the advantage of perspective, and an unwavering conviction that we had a destiny and purpose in life.

From the time I was a little boy, I remember my mother telling me that God had a plan for my life – that the Lord had spoken to her that I had a call upon my life. Even though there were times as a teenager when I resisted or even resented that idea, I could never lose sight of the vision my mother instilled within me. She majored on my strengths, not my weaknesses. Although I had plenty of weaknesses, my mother and dad both instilled in me the idea that I could do anything – that I was destined to be a leader. Others conspired with her in this initiative. I still have my 3rd grade report card from Mrs. Winnogene Baker, my teacher at Dundee Elementary School in Dundee, Oregon. On that 3rd grade report card, Mrs. Baker wrote:  “Donald is a leader. Let’s hope he continues to lead in the right direction.”

Mom & Dad Detrick 50th Anniv 1-2-89 Newberg AG cropped photo
My parents on their 50th Wedding Anniversary January 2, 1989

Of all the lessons my mother taught me, most of all she taught me about love. My mother was an equal opportunity lover of all people. She never had a cruel thing to say about anybody and showed her love through her gift of hospitality. She never saw a problem that couldn’t be worked out over a good meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy with all the trimmings, and topped off with coconut cream pie and a good cup of coffee. She gave my wife and children the same gift of her love and acceptance that she freely offered me. She imprinted all of our lives and we are all better because of her. Thanks, Mom!

Resurrection: Signs of Spring

Resurrection - Signs of SpringI saw it this morning, a lone neighborhood rhododendron protesting the stark dormant landscape by unfurling its pink and ivory petals. Against all odds on this dark and rainy day, it victoriously displayed the inevitable triumph of resurrection. Though all outward circumstances indicate winter still maintains its frigid clutch on the landscape, the rebellious rhodie down the street courageously emerged to reveal its delicate beauty, despite the cold. And despite the biting wind and rain, I watched famished bumble bees, laden with pollen, battle one another for the sweet nourishment it offered them following months of impoverished hunger.

As I write this afternoon, another late winter squall fiercely peppers my window with raindrops like bullets from a machine gun. Although the official announcement of spring  is only a few days away, today the coming of spring seems a long way off–except for the memory of this morning’s lone rhododendron. Like a brave sentinel, it boldly maintains its post within enemy territory.First Rhodie lower res large 3-16-13 Petal by petal it unfolds to reveal a spectacle so gloriously un-winter like that I threw caution to the wind and rain, jumping at the chance for a photograph. In the face of possible damage to camera or equipment, I gladly took the risk in exchange for a permanent reminder that winter does not last forever. Knowing the unpredictability of our Pacific Northwest weather, spring may not truly arrive for a couple of months. In the meantime, the photo is a vivid reminder of spring’s inevitability.

Last week another photo opportunity reminded me of the same principle as I captured a shot of a rose bush with emerging leaves next to dead and decaying blossoms from last season, alongside a bright red rose hip (top photo). That rose hip, like the emerging leaves, serves as a reminder of life. For some reason, possibly having something to do with our bumblebee friends, that particular blossom was pollenated. So unlike its dead neighboring blossoms, it has become pregnant with seeds, and grown fatter over the winter months. Unless pruned by the gardener, it will soon open to scatter its seeds, spreading life. Death and life. Winter and spring. We can’t have one without the other.

During this holy season in the weeks leading up to Easter, we are reminded of resurrection hope in the midst of challenging, wintery circumstances. Jesus said, “Because I live, you shall live also” (John 14:19). But before a resurrection, there had to be a death. The sunshine of Palm Sunday gave way to the wintery shadows of the Holy Week. The weather changed when the passionate crowds turned icy in their fickle rejection of the King they had warmly welcomed days earlier. And the entire world seemed captured by winter’s frigid, dark embrace, culminating with the seemingly not good crucifixion on Good Friday.

Can you imagine the questions peppering the minds of Jesus’ followers? They had no familiarity with machine guns or bullets, yet the questions must have relentlessly pounded at the window of their souls. Mary no doubt was reminded of Simeon’s ominous prophecy given years earlier, “a sword will pierce your heart” (Luke 2:35). She wondered, “Why my son? Why now?”

For the disciples, the last three years were re-lived, revealing persistent questions. “Where are the miracles now? Why are we powerless to do something? Why doesn’t God do something?” Where was the glorious revelation of the Heavenly Father, like the voice they heard at Jesus’ transfiguration? Why was His booming voice, “This is my beloved Son,” silent on that day? Why did darkness cover the face of the earth, like the dark questions brooding in their hearts and minds, enveloping their hopes and dreams in disappointment and fear? Why only shadowed silence?

“Why?” always takes precedence as the most persistent of all questions when things go awry. And it persistently remains the most troublesome question. Why did Jesus cry out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Forsaken by God – that seems the conclusion when winter covers the landscape and winter’s chill seems permanent. For the disciples it must have generated even more questions. Had God forsaken them? Is that what they had signed up for, given the last three years of their lives for, to be forsaken by God?

During times of winter questioning, it is best to remember the words spoken in an earlier season. The words of explanation, words of comfort, words of hope, spoken to give us perspective on the days ahead when our gardens are currently overflowing and beauty abounds. To remember, we must listen in the first place. What had Jesus told them earlier that would have explained these tragic circumstances? What has He told you, that might sustain and offer hope during a bleak winter storm? What did you learn in the light that you must remember in the dark?

Virtually every birth comes at a painful price. Whether the birth of a human child, or the birth of a dream, birth pains are part of the deal. So why do we endure it? That question trumps the question of pain and suffering. Why does the rose scatter its seeds in the spring? Why does the gardener plant tender young plants into cold soil on a dark and rainy day? Why did Jesus go to the cross? Because of the hope. The hope of new life, eternal life. The hope of something better. The hope of an entire landscape filled with warmth and beauty. The promise of a bountiful harvest.

Thus Jesus went to the cross. He endured the winter of suffering, so we can enjoy the spring of resurrection. That doesn’t mean we won’t have struggles here, or questions. It does mean we can courageously rise above them, like the rebellious rhododendron down the street. And maybe we can provide sweet sustenance to nurture a famished friend. Signs of spring are all around us. Sometimes you must search for them, or create them yourself, but they are there. Hope springs eternal. And eternal life brings hope. ©2013 Don Detrick