For the past three summers now, I have had the opportunity to work at an amazing camp called Youth Leadership Forum for high school juniors and seniors with disabilities. I had no idea what to expect the first summer. I definitely expected sleep deprivation and lots of teambuilding activities (accurate, by the way). I probably expected to hand out all kinds of advice regarding my vast amount of leadership skills (wrong). I didn't expect a week long of highly processed and/or fried foods or the kink in my workout routine. Mostly, I didn't expect to be inspired. After all, I'm the one with all of my ducks in a row, right?
Meet M. (Well, apparently my computer doesn't want you to meet her today, as it is not letting me upload any pictures.) M has Cerebral Palsy. She gets around quite well using a walker, but nonetheless, she wakes up every morning with a body that does not obey her mind. M is extremely intelligent, funny, kind, and motivated, but many people automatically write her off as being none of those things because she has a visible disability. Although M is well-spoken, people in public arenas often address whoever is with M with their questions and comments instead of addressing M herself because they assume that she is unable to talk. It would be easy for M to complain about the way people treat her, to use her disability as an excuse, or to become angry and bitter that she wakes up with a disability every morning that 98% of the world will never understand. Instead, she chooses gratitude. She chooses to overlook people's stereotypes. She chooses to persevere despite all odds.
M wasn't the only inspiring camper this week. B is blind but is going to OSU for engineering. A has a Traumatic Brain Injury but is one of the funniest people I have ever met. J has autism and can sing like nobody's business. C has epilepsy but works, volunteers, and takes college classes. And the list goes on. Gosh, even one of the counselors has cancer. When I looked around the room at camp, I didn't see disabilities or sickness. I saw hope.
Being at camp this week reminded me of several things.
1. I complain an awful lot (about stupid things).
2. I make lots of lame excuses.
3. I am blessed beyond measure.
Tomorrow, I challenge you to wake up and count your blessings. I can guarantee you that someone else is, and chances are good that it's someone who has far less to be thankful for than you do.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Valued
I am well aware that Mother's Day has come and gone, but after a conversation with a friend yesterday and with Father's Day just around the corner, it seemed timely for me to post this now.
Mother's Day and Father's Day are obviously important. My mom and dad did so much for me growing up, and they still continue to influence my life in powerful ways. I don't take the time nearly often enough to show them my appreciation, so I'm glad that there is a day set aside to remind me to show them a little extra love. Mother's Day and Father's Day have typically been happy times in celebrating two wonderful people who certainly don't have it all together but have worked very hard to pour into their children. Generally, these days still are happy. But for the first time this year, Mother's Day came with a pang of sadness for me.
Most you of probably don't know what I'm about to say. (Yikes. Here we go.) Andrew and I have been trying to have a baby for about a year and a half now. (Here I have to apologize because I know that that amount of time is probably the blink of an eye for some of you reading this blog. I don't mean to be insensitive.) Some days are easier than others. There are times when I feel at peace about the whole thing, times when I just shove it under the rug and try to forget, times when I am heartbroken, and times when I am raging mad. Well-meaning people often say things like, "God's timing is always perfect" or "When you just trust God and are at peace with your situation, that is when He will give you a baby." While the former statement is accurate, it often comes across as flippant or trite to someone who is really struggling with understanding the "why's" of life. The latter statement, I believe, is just not even true. I think there are plenty of people who may be completely at peace and still aren't able to have children. God doesn't operate on a rewards system in which only the best, most put-together people have babies and everyone else does not. Also, it hurts to be told that you can only learn certain things by having children. Example: "I now know what it means to be selfless because I have kids (and you will have no idea what it means to be selfless until you have kids, too)." Everyone seems to be learning the same basic lessons in life: patience, trust, forgiveness, selflessness, etc. The means of learning those lessons are different for everyone because everyone's story is unique.
I'm not asking you to feel sorry for us. What I do desire is sensitivity. Let's be honest. Most days, I struggle to be thankful for the cards that have been dealt to us. But if there is anything that makes me the tiniest bit content with our circumstances, it is that I now am more aware of the hurts that some people face. I am the last person to be casting stones at anyone here because I know that if I would have gotten pregnant as soon as we started trying, I would have been one of the well-meaning people who spat out cliche statements but didn't truly understand. (The key in that sentence is well-meaning, because I don't think anyone we have talked to has ever intended to be hurtful in their comments.) Now, like never before, I am attuned to people who have had miscarriages, whose parents have passed away, and who have tried to conceive for years longer than we have. I don't listen perfectly, and I don't care nearly as much as I should, but I am thankful at least that my awareness of people who hurt has been heightened.
Here I must stop and say a huge "thank-you" to Doug and Bobby at City Presbyterian Church for doing something that I have never seen or heard of being done before. Of course, no church does everything perfectly, but I was particularly impressed by this. When Doug stood up to greet everyone on the Sunday evening of Mother's Day, he started off with the typical "Happy Mother's Day, we're so thankful for the wonderful mothers here..." speech and I almost immediately thought, "Great, here we go," and shut down. But then he kept going and said something like, "As thankful as we are for the moms here, we know that Mother's Day is painful for a lot of women who want to be mothers and cannot. It is painful for those who have lost their mothers. It is painful for women who have miscarried. So let's keep that in mind and be gracious." Then he asked all of the women in the church to stand up, and he looked out at all of us and said, "You are valuable. The church needs you. We're thankful for your unique gifts and talents. We're glad you're a woman."
I teared up. Our society has placed such a heirarchy on people and The Church has, too, hasn't it? (I'm capitalizing "The Church" because I don't think it's one particular church that does this; Christ's church around the world is at fault.) Married people with children are the most valuable, married people without children are somewhat valuable, and single people are the least valuable. Of course, no one would ever put it in those words, but isn't that how we operate? Marriage is seen as the highest "badge of honor," and people earn more gold stars on their badges by having more children. We act like there is something wrong with people who are not married by a certain age, or couples who have been married for a certain length of time and don't have children. "When are you going to get married/start having kids," we ask, assuming that that is the next and only logical step for a twenty-something to take. Not everyone was intended to get married, and not everyone was intended to have children. What about those people? Are their gifts not equally as important and useful as the gifts of those who do have children? Being a mom or a dad is absolutely a significant role in The Church and outside of it. The world needs loving moms and dads. But doesn't the world also need enthusiastic single people? Doesn't it need sweet married couples? I think so.
Whether you're single or married, whether you have fifteen children or you have none, whether you're black, white, brown, or purple, you are inherently valuable because you are a man or a woman. Those words don't come from me. They come from the One who created us. Even before there were children on the earth, "God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good."
Mother's Day and Father's Day are obviously important. My mom and dad did so much for me growing up, and they still continue to influence my life in powerful ways. I don't take the time nearly often enough to show them my appreciation, so I'm glad that there is a day set aside to remind me to show them a little extra love. Mother's Day and Father's Day have typically been happy times in celebrating two wonderful people who certainly don't have it all together but have worked very hard to pour into their children. Generally, these days still are happy. But for the first time this year, Mother's Day came with a pang of sadness for me.
Most you of probably don't know what I'm about to say. (Yikes. Here we go.) Andrew and I have been trying to have a baby for about a year and a half now. (Here I have to apologize because I know that that amount of time is probably the blink of an eye for some of you reading this blog. I don't mean to be insensitive.) Some days are easier than others. There are times when I feel at peace about the whole thing, times when I just shove it under the rug and try to forget, times when I am heartbroken, and times when I am raging mad. Well-meaning people often say things like, "God's timing is always perfect" or "When you just trust God and are at peace with your situation, that is when He will give you a baby." While the former statement is accurate, it often comes across as flippant or trite to someone who is really struggling with understanding the "why's" of life. The latter statement, I believe, is just not even true. I think there are plenty of people who may be completely at peace and still aren't able to have children. God doesn't operate on a rewards system in which only the best, most put-together people have babies and everyone else does not. Also, it hurts to be told that you can only learn certain things by having children. Example: "I now know what it means to be selfless because I have kids (and you will have no idea what it means to be selfless until you have kids, too)." Everyone seems to be learning the same basic lessons in life: patience, trust, forgiveness, selflessness, etc. The means of learning those lessons are different for everyone because everyone's story is unique.
I'm not asking you to feel sorry for us. What I do desire is sensitivity. Let's be honest. Most days, I struggle to be thankful for the cards that have been dealt to us. But if there is anything that makes me the tiniest bit content with our circumstances, it is that I now am more aware of the hurts that some people face. I am the last person to be casting stones at anyone here because I know that if I would have gotten pregnant as soon as we started trying, I would have been one of the well-meaning people who spat out cliche statements but didn't truly understand. (The key in that sentence is well-meaning, because I don't think anyone we have talked to has ever intended to be hurtful in their comments.) Now, like never before, I am attuned to people who have had miscarriages, whose parents have passed away, and who have tried to conceive for years longer than we have. I don't listen perfectly, and I don't care nearly as much as I should, but I am thankful at least that my awareness of people who hurt has been heightened.
Here I must stop and say a huge "thank-you" to Doug and Bobby at City Presbyterian Church for doing something that I have never seen or heard of being done before. Of course, no church does everything perfectly, but I was particularly impressed by this. When Doug stood up to greet everyone on the Sunday evening of Mother's Day, he started off with the typical "Happy Mother's Day, we're so thankful for the wonderful mothers here..." speech and I almost immediately thought, "Great, here we go," and shut down. But then he kept going and said something like, "As thankful as we are for the moms here, we know that Mother's Day is painful for a lot of women who want to be mothers and cannot. It is painful for those who have lost their mothers. It is painful for women who have miscarried. So let's keep that in mind and be gracious." Then he asked all of the women in the church to stand up, and he looked out at all of us and said, "You are valuable. The church needs you. We're thankful for your unique gifts and talents. We're glad you're a woman."
I teared up. Our society has placed such a heirarchy on people and The Church has, too, hasn't it? (I'm capitalizing "The Church" because I don't think it's one particular church that does this; Christ's church around the world is at fault.) Married people with children are the most valuable, married people without children are somewhat valuable, and single people are the least valuable. Of course, no one would ever put it in those words, but isn't that how we operate? Marriage is seen as the highest "badge of honor," and people earn more gold stars on their badges by having more children. We act like there is something wrong with people who are not married by a certain age, or couples who have been married for a certain length of time and don't have children. "When are you going to get married/start having kids," we ask, assuming that that is the next and only logical step for a twenty-something to take. Not everyone was intended to get married, and not everyone was intended to have children. What about those people? Are their gifts not equally as important and useful as the gifts of those who do have children? Being a mom or a dad is absolutely a significant role in The Church and outside of it. The world needs loving moms and dads. But doesn't the world also need enthusiastic single people? Doesn't it need sweet married couples? I think so.
Whether you're single or married, whether you have fifteen children or you have none, whether you're black, white, brown, or purple, you are inherently valuable because you are a man or a woman. Those words don't come from me. They come from the One who created us. Even before there were children on the earth, "God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good."
Monday, June 4, 2012
Good Ol' Oklahoma
I feel like I can make this comment since I am from Texas myself, but I don't know of any group of people that is prouder to be from a certain place than Texans. If you ask a Texan what he loves about his state, he will probably not only rattle off a list of reasons about why Texas is so great, but he will probably also give you a list of reasons why whatever non-Texas state that you are from is obviously inferior. I Googled "Why do people love Texas so much?" and here are some of the responses from Texans. I'm not even going to comment on them because they really need no commentary.
"Because it's the only place worth visiting for Las Vegas besides New York." (What?)
"Food in Texas makes your taste buds sing."
"Blue Bell Ice Cream!!!!" (with that many exclamation points)
"Because Texas is the best state. Texas is the only state that is self-sufficient. They can grow all their own food, own fuel, etc. No other state can do this. Hooray for Texas!"
"We are a little above the rest and we know you wish you were from here. Have a nice day y'all."
...and my personal favorite...
"Texas is the wave of the future, if you do not change your ways you will get left behind."
They say that everything is bigger in Texas, and apparently the egos are, too. (Don't worry, I'm a proud and pretty egotistical Texan at times, as well.)
For the past six years, I have lived in Norman, Oklahoma. Ididn't like hated it when I first moved here. I complained about everything from the constant windiness (okay, a little annoying), to the uneven sidewalks (at least we have sidewalks just about everywhere!), to the ugly (unique) houses, to the lack of attractions (um, hello, we live about a mile from the OU stadium?!), to anything else that is the least bit unlike the wealthy suburban area where I spent my high school years. Norman isn't perfect, but I have grown to love its quirkiness and college town charm.
What I didn't realize until the past three weeks or so is that parts of Oklahoma are actually beautiful. It's wedding season, so we have been traveling all across the Sooner State to watch our friends tie the knot. My friend from Tahlequah confidently claimed before her wedding that "Tahlequah is the prettiest part of Oklahoma." I didn't believe her. My only connection to Tahlequah in the past had been watching Where the Red Fern Grows as a child (I think I asked my mom if I could watch that movie about every other day). As it turns out, Mallory was right about Tahlequah. Maybe I'll have to start making other connections with that lovely little town.
Andrew and I also went hiking in the Wichita Mountains near Lawton, Oklahoma. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll let these speak for themselves.
Our final weekend adventure was to Beavers Bend, Oklahoma, for my cousin's wedding. The drive there was small town after small generic town, but I am somewhat of a country girl at heart and think that back roads and farmlands are delightful. The scenery at Beavers Bend State Park was absolutely worth the four hour drive.
Maybe Oklahoma isn't THE most amazing state in the Union, but our recent travels have convinced me that it certainly has some redeeming qualities and is much more stunning than most people realize. Just within the last year or so, I have even caught myself telling people that I am from Norman and not Flower Mound or Houston. I guess this place is becoming home.
So with all of that, "Boomer Sooner", "Thunder Up", and "God Bless America." Hey, I'm sorta proud to be an Okie.
"Because it's the only place worth visiting for Las Vegas besides New York." (What?)
"Food in Texas makes your taste buds sing."
"Blue Bell Ice Cream!!!!" (with that many exclamation points)
"Because Texas is the best state. Texas is the only state that is self-sufficient. They can grow all their own food, own fuel, etc. No other state can do this. Hooray for Texas!"
"We are a little above the rest and we know you wish you were from here. Have a nice day y'all."
...and my personal favorite...
"Texas is the wave of the future, if you do not change your ways you will get left behind."
They say that everything is bigger in Texas, and apparently the egos are, too. (Don't worry, I'm a proud and pretty egotistical Texan at times, as well.)
For the past six years, I have lived in Norman, Oklahoma. I
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| Downtown Norman (Main Street) |
What I didn't realize until the past three weeks or so is that parts of Oklahoma are actually beautiful. It's wedding season, so we have been traveling all across the Sooner State to watch our friends tie the knot. My friend from Tahlequah confidently claimed before her wedding that "Tahlequah is the prettiest part of Oklahoma." I didn't believe her. My only connection to Tahlequah in the past had been watching Where the Red Fern Grows as a child (I think I asked my mom if I could watch that movie about every other day). As it turns out, Mallory was right about Tahlequah. Maybe I'll have to start making other connections with that lovely little town.
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| Illinois River in Tahlequah |
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| This was my favorite thing that we saw on the way to Beavers Bend. I have no idea who those guys are, but we passed the sign too quickly for me to grab a picture. |
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| Beavers Bend |
So with all of that, "Boomer Sooner", "Thunder Up", and "God Bless America." Hey, I'm sorta proud to be an Okie.
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