God's Promise

I’ve never been one to enjoy vulnerability. My first thought is exposure, and my number one priority is “cover-up and hide!” (Genesis 3:8) As I consider those words, I am brought back to one of my first moments of distinct embarrassment.

When I was ten years old, my dad came home with the news that we were moving to Japan. Now, to my two younger siblings and me, this news was unbelievably exciting. (I did not have any real concept of what it meant to live in a country where I did not even know how to ask where the bathroom was; however, my small bladder made this one of the first phrases I did learn.) My mom, on the other hand, was significantly more apprehensive. So many things to consider! Where would we go to school? How would we buy a car? How would we ask for help? Which leads to the ever-impending question in my life: “Do I even ask for help?” All I knew about Japan, at the age of ten, was that the flag had a big red circle on it, and I would be “far away from here”.

Over the next few months, we packed our lives into boxes and prepared for the journey overseas. I was thoroughly excited about moving to the other side of the world, not to mention the plane ride. Because my dad’s business was flying us, we got preferential treatment, and I had this inflated idea that I was royalty. However, my oversized head was quickly downsized. Prior to moving into our house, we stayed at a hotel which happened to have a swimming pool on the top of the building. My siblings and I were having a delightful time swimming in this pool and had a real finesse when it came to cannon-balls. We were especially thrilled when a splash hit Mom and Dad.

One afternoon, I was very intent upon winning our “splashing contest”, and I took a running start as I prepared for the “splash of a lifetime”. As I plunged into the water, I felt a whooshing sensation, and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had lost something on my way down. My head popped up, and I was mortified when I realized what that “something” was – the top of bathing suit! Of course, as a ten-year old girl, this is especially mollifying; however, I could feel mortification intensifying as I searched for my no-where-to-be-found bathing suit. I made it to a corner, hoping that my brother or sister would be kind enough to help search, but to my even greater dismay, I heard a gentle voice say, “Is this yours?” I glanced up just quickly enough to see my bathing suit top. “It was caught in the filter.” I grabbed the top and braved a look at the person who had found it. He would have to be a ten-year old boy with blond hair and blue eyes… a bit of a MacCaulay Culkin look-alike whom I had a crush on for who knows how many years. My little ten-year old heart felt like it was running a marathon right out of my chest. Needless to say, I did not say much, but put on my top as quickly as I could and prayed with all my might that I would never see this kid again.

My prayer was not answered… OK, scratch that. It was not answered the way I wanted it to be answered. I started school a few days later only to walk straight into the warm blue eyes of my Home Alone star-clone. He had the audacity to smile and wink at me!!! The nerve of this boy!!! He did, however, quickly earn my respect when I learned that he never once shared what had happened in that pool on the roof of a hotel in Japan.

This detailed account of my first memorable experience of embarrassment leads me to share about a more recent experience of chosen vulnerability. One where the end result was a gift. An extremely unexpected gift. (Luke 11:13)

Approximately one year ago, I traveled to the mountains to help coach a song-writing camp for young musicians. I had been asked to share my testimony, but was having difficulty, right up until the moment I took the microphone. What and how much I would share? You see, I have this overwhelming fear of rejection and this lingering addiction to approval. As I wrestled with how far I would let others see into my heart, I recognized the reason for such reluctance to bare my soul. “Ironically,” I was afraid of rejection, and I still wanted approval before being vulnerable. Needless to say, it was God’s nudge… or perhaps I should say “gentle driving force”. I did not know what type of response I would get upon sharing, but I did it. I was open, and I was vulnerable.

Now, I need not mention that the sharing of my testimony has, in the past, resulted in a significant amount of criticism and rejection. Not every time, but enough to imprint fear upon my soul, so I am always just a little bit apprehensive; however, I was somewhat shocked at the response this time… at the salvo of teenage girls who wanted to talk with someone who could relate or would “know where [they are] coming from”. I spent a significant amount of time with each of the girls; however, I was unprepared for the time I spent with the only member under the age of 14 at this camp.

We were walking up a big hill when she asked, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

I smiled, “Sure, you can ask whatever you want, but I might not answer.”

“Becky, if you could go back in time, would you have an abortion again?”

I was unprepared for this question, and I slowed a little to think. I had asked myself this question before, but never had it asked of me.

“All the choices I made have brought me to who and where I am today – in my relationship with God, my family, my friends, and myself. If a different choice would mean a different end result, I don’t know. I do have peace that she is with Jesus.” (Luke 18:15-26)

“Did you name her?”

“I did. Kyrie Eleyson. It means ‘Lord, have mercy’.”

“That’s pretty. She’d be about twelve, huh?”

“Yes…”

“I figured that out when you were sharing your testimony. I’m almost twelve.”

“I know.” I smiled again… it was a sad smile, a smile that held all of the pain and sadness of what I had lost and yet all the joy and freedom of what I had gained.

“She’d forgive you, you know, and she’s waiting for you in Heaven… You know how I know?”

I just looked at this amazingly wise little woman, unsure of what to expect.

“Because I would.” 

Wow…

I swallowed and let the prickle of vulnerability begin its descent from my eyes. For several years, I have known, and believed, that I am forgiven and free and no longer what I once was (Colossians 1:22; 1 Corinthians 6:11), yet there was something far beyond special about hearing those words from the lips of a young girl the same age as my own. Each time I choose to be vulnerable, I face significant risk – the risk for deep rejection and disapproval and criticism, but I also risk being given a gift to which nothing compares. I am so thankful I chose to be vulnerable because I may never have known such a gift had I kept my heart to myself. Besides, as uncomfortable as exposure is, it’s not like hiding would have worked anyway (1 John 3:20).

This afternoon, I am leaving for songwriting camp again, and I am thrilled to be a part of watching the "campers/writers" blow me away yet again. I am thankful for how the Truth of God's promise is not limited to those who are declared profound and eloquent. Sometimes, what we need to hear most comes from those whom we might least expect it (1 Timothy 4:12).  It is my prayer that I listen everywhere, lest I miss what He may want me to hear.

Saying Goodbye

On Thursday morning, I had to put my sweet baby boy to sleep. I got him at age 3 through a rescue shelter. His background included being used as "bait dog", meaning he was "big enough to hold his own, but not aggressive enough to cause serious damage" when fighting. When he was no longer "useable", he was abused and abandoned. Who in their right mind could do that to a Golden Retriever!!!! We worked with a personal trainer for several months before he was able to interact with other dogs, and I am quite certain that I learned as much as he did in that process. Buster became an integral part of my life over the past 7+ years, and I honestly believe that, because of the place I was in when I adopted him, I would not be here if he had not entered my life.

When I first saw his picture online, I just knew he was meant to be mine. I called Buster's foster mom who said someone was coming the next day to meet him, so I told her I was on my way and left immediately, driving 2.5 hours one way to "meet" him that night. Of course, he left with me. :-) We didn't get home until after midnight, but we were both so energized that neither of us slept. In the beginning, he cried every time I left, but we eventually grew to trust each other unconditionally. He slept under the piano while I taught piano/vocal lessons. He came with me to the office on the days I counseled. He became a therapy dog for so many of my clients. He was my running buddy and my cuddling buddy, believing in his heart of hearts that he was a lap dog. Despite our almost-equal size, I loved every moment of his need to be nearly on top of me.

Over the last month, I began to watch him digress. I brought him to the vet last Saturday, May 5th, never dreaming that May 10th would be the day we'd have to say, "goodbye". Blood tests over this last week revealed depleted levels of all blood cells, except those indicating acute and agressive leukemia. After consulting with the doctor on Tuesday, and verifying that he would not worsen in two days, I took him home for two more nights. Even in the end, Buster was the one comforting me. He put his head on my shoulder while I cried. He licked the tears off my face as they streamed down my cheeks. He followed me everywhere for those last few hours and tried desperately, it seemed, to hide how miserable he was. The morning I took him in, his final gift to me was allowing me to see how miserable he was - in essence he was saying, "It's ok, Mama. You can let me go." It was like he knew I needed that, and, once again, I was aware of how much he was living for me. I knew my last and greatest sacrifice for him would be to release him from his pain, even though mine would grow beyond what I ever could imagine. Just before the meds were administered, Buster licked my tears one last time as if to say, "I'm ready now, Mama," and as much as I wasn't, I knew I had to say, "Ok". I couldn't let him keep hurting. That is how much I love him.

I miss him. I miss him so much. My heart aches when I open the door, and he is not there  wagging his tail and entire backside in anticipation of the walk we were about to take. My bed feels empty because the mere foot I used to have is now the entirity of a full queen. I miss being squished. Every morning since Thursday, I have rolled over expecting his breath on the pillow right next to me. No, it never did smell like roses, but I miss that too. I know it's only been three days, and I am quite familiar with the phrase "time heals all wounds". But today, I am not healed. Today, I am wounded, and I am broken, and I am lonely. Today, I miss my baby, and I know that the time I will start to "feel" healed is far. Today, I am hurting, and today, I am crying...

But even more importantly, today, by the grace of God, I  have Buster to thank for being able to say that "it is ok, to not be ok".

Growing Up Goes Slow

On Thursday, I am turning 30. Today, I am most definitely wrestling with that reality. I’ve never been a fan of numbers. In fact, much of my life has been spent doing battle with them, often failing quite miserably. I distinctly remember bringing home a math exam with a bright red “54” printed on the top. Oh, the agony! However, I will never forget my parents’ response: “At least you got half right!” One would think that my immediate thought would be, “oh yeah”, but those who are mathematically challenged like me will appreciate that I still had to process that 54% is greater than 50%, and, therefore, greater than half. Only then could I say, “oh yeah”.

So, back to the big 3-0. Did you see the shiver ripple down my spine as I shuddered at the thought? I don’t look old. Sometimes I don’t act old, and I certainly don't feel old. Maybe 30 isn’t really that old… maybe. Over the past few weeks, I have been identifying some of the top reasons why turning 30 is going to be the best birthday ever! I decided it would be a good idea to come up with 30 reasons. A bit cliche, I know, but I couldn't resist. Here they are, in no particular order.

1. I get to say, “I remember when I was in my 20s”. I can officially say I'm a "grown-up"... nominally, of course.

2. It is a milestone birthday.

3. I get 10 whole years to prepare for 40.

4. I get to check a new age group box on forms.

5. 30’s are today’s new 20’s (Thank you, Desperate Housewives).

6. I have a really good reason to celebrate BIG for this birthday!

7. 30’s are the best years for a female vocalist.

8. Turning 30 is a novelty… way better than 21.

9. I’m another year closer to being “student loan” free!

10. I have plenty of time to grow accustomed to being called “ma’am” or “that lady”.

11. I have realized that I am not missing much if I go to bed before midnight (unless, of course, I am celebrating my 30th birthday).

12. When I get carded it is a compliment instead of them not thinking I am old enough.

13. All the life lessons I learned in my 20s, I can now apply to my life.

14. All of my high school and college clothes are back in style.

15. Time waits for no man, but it stands still for a woman of 30 (paraphrased from Robert Frost)

16. I have amazing friends and the best family ever.

17. More disposable income (although to where it's thrown, I'm not sure).

18. People will take me seriously now that I am 30.

19. I can laugh on the inside (and some on the outside) when people can’t believe I am 30.

20. I now have many years of experience being an adult, and I can now advise my parents.

21. I can be president in five years.

22. I am healthy, well, and oh-so-happy-to-be-alive!

23. I will no longer have zits. I will only have to worry about wrinkles and graying hairs.

24. When I was younger 30 was OLD, now I feel 30 is young.

25. Santa doesn’t consider age, just behavior… (I may still be in trouble J)

26. I have embraced the reality that guilt is often an unnecessary emotion.

27. I am completely comfortable living life with my personalized theme music.

28. I am privileged enough to be 30 and have two jobs that I absolutely love.

29. Old enough to know better and still too young to care.

30. Rock and Roll Never Forgets

Thursday starts the best time of my life.
Bring it on!