Keeping Christmas

"And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!" - A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

I know, I know. It's too soon to talk about Christmas for most of my readers. Notable exceptions exist of course (Anne, Stephanie, I'm talking to you wonderful ladies!)

I used the above quote because when people refer to someone as a Scrooge, they mean the miserly old skin-flint in the "before" picture and not of the "after." In the same way, a "Grinch" is a mean-spirited, selfish person who hates Christmas. Yet in the story by Dr. Seuss, "the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day" and he ended up being sweet and generous! 

Christmas 2014 - everyone gets in on the fun!

When I was a little kid, I heard stories of my dad waking my mom up at 3:30 a.m. just because it was Christmas. He couldn't wait to see our faces when we opened our presents, to see the wonder and hear the laughter of that day. It was his favorite day of the year. And he didn't get anything else out of the day. We had no money to give him a present. His joy, his Christmas spirit, came from giving to those who had no way to return the favor. 

What a wonderful feeling that is! I've had occasion - here and there - to experience that kind of excitement in anticipation of someone opening a gift that I have made or bought for them. It is truly magical. And it doesn't matter if it's for Christmas, or their birthday, or even "just because." I don't expect anything in return. It just blesses me to bits to be able to give to them something that they need or want - that they like - and that they will cherish and use. 

So, perhaps we can "keep Christmas" all year round. Wouldn't that be great? If everyone had that spirit of gratitude, generosity and goodwill all year, how much sweeter life would be! Folks would be much easier to get along with ... as long as there was no trace of obligation or duty involved ... and therefore, no mad rushing about in the stores, no impatience in parking lots, or any of that. 

How much fuller life would feel with that kind of attitude - to give is better than to receive - present not just at Christmas but every day? How it would transform each of us to find joy in giving to those who have no hope of ever paying us back (which isn't the point anyway)!! Hungry, homeless people, people with hardly two nickels (or tuppence) to rub together, could eat, be warm, and have their daily needs met through the generosity of those who love to give! 

Isn't that worth more than getting the latest gadget for ourselves? 
I'll leave that thought with you, as it has been burning in me. 

And happy Christmas to you!

Choosing wisely

There's a scene from the 3rd Indiana Jones movie (after all the scary stuff where the bad guy picks the wrong grail and ... well, we won't discuss that, but the knight does comment, "He chose poorly..."), when Indy gets to choose a specific cup (the Holy Grail) among several ornate cups and other containers on a large table. He picks a clay goblet, saying, "This looks like the cup of a carpenter," and plunges it into the basin containing the water of life. 

He takes a drink and looks at the old knight. "You chose wisely," the old man states slowly. 

Choosing wisely. 

As a new year begins, there are millions of people making resolutions, promises they might fully intend to keep. And some of them will. Most of them ... well, did you know that in the gyms and health clubs there's this term known as the "resolution rush"? That is, the glut of gym memberships people buy right after the holidays so they can lose that pesky five pounds (or more) ... and after that, most don't use their membership or get their money's worth out of it. At one time I did get a gym membership - and I used it for about two weeks. After that, I lost interest - because it wasn't something that meant a great deal to me. It was outside my routine, and I was already doing too much other stuff to fit it in.

I'm afraid I have Garfield the cat's attitude about exercise - whenever I get the urge, I just lie down til it goes away. Besides, I've yet to see anyone exercising for its own sake who looks happy while doing it. Unless, of course, they're already skinny and they just THINK they're fat because they have five or ten pounds to lose according to some chart somewhere (those types just drive me around the bend - it's like they're masochists or something, and there's always something at least a little bit judgmental - intended or not - about their attitude toward people like me.) 

But I digress. 

Photo "Daily Planner With Pen" courtesy of
BrandonSigma at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Setting goals is a laudable thing - if those goals are short-term, can be achieved and measured, mean something to the person, and are easy to remember. 

Platitudes and esoteric statements - like "I will be a better person" for example - are too hard to measure, depending on whether or not the person is a perfectionist. Who decides what's better? How much better? Is that realistic? With all the other things going on in that person's life, could that goal be achievable, or would it mean he or she would have to give up something important?

i could say, "I will lose a hundred pounds this year," but unless liposuction or gastric bypass surgery is in my immediate future, that's not going to happen. It's not realistic. Any time I've put a number on my weight loss goals, I've ended up disappointing myself. And unless I have the energy to devote to the changes I'm going to need to make, it's pretty well pointless to start talking about even losing ten pounds. I might lose it - but I know I'd gain it back. 

Besides, my weight issue is only an external image thing. I'd rather work on something inside of me, something that will have long-lasting effects. The last five years, that something has been setting boundaries and enforcing them, respecting others' boundaries, letting go of the need to control other people, and learning to forgive myself.

I like what a fellow blogger has done - she picks one word. It's easy to remember, once chosen, and she doesn't have to go to some book or recipe card to remind herself. It's just one word, after all. She doesn't give up the previous year's word because that's become a part of her mental makeup - and it's not like she expects to apply that word in every situation (because she's human) ... but it's a word that will recur, that will guide, that will remind her to do what it says more and more often. 

Because I'm so wordy, perhaps one word might not do the trick for me, but one small, short phrase or sentence might. 

I've thought about something like "Pursue excellence" - and while that is a great idea, I might get myself bogged down in how that plays out for me in the everyday. The same thing goes with "Help someone" - often I don't get the chance to do that every day, and I think often enough about that anyway. I could choose "Learn something" - but there are days when I don't learn anything ... or what I learn is not helpful to me or to anyone else. Besides, I think I've cultivated a teachable spirit over the years. 

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud" by
Sura Nuralpradid at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

So after much deliberation, I think I've hit on something that will speak to my own tendency to see things in a negative light. This is choosing wisely for me because negativity is something that is a recurring problem and it has the effect of discouraging me and also those around me. 

The phrase I think I've chosen is, "Look up." By this, I don't mean physically looking up all the time, but keeping an attitude that is more positive, that remembers that I'm not the centre of the universe. Looking up reminds me that there is something higher, something that supersedes my plans and those of other entities like systems or governments. It reminds me that even on the cloudiest, darkest day, the sun still shines even when I can't see it. It reminds me that there is always help, courage, strength, and love in the One who is higher than I, and that in every circumstance, I can look up to Him for what I need. Even if all I need is to remember that He's with me.

It also reminds me that I can choose to look for the good in things - and in people. In my own inner life, it is something simple that I can do to become more aware that I am not alone, that I am loved and cherished, and that I am important. 

Yes, that fits me this year. It will help me to choose wisely.

Worth it

“If you had asked me, before this happened, what the worst thing in my life would be, it would be to lose a child. To lose Sarah. I now know that there is one thing worse and that would be never to have had her at all. Right. So what that tells me is to look at all these wonderful things she did accomplish and to enjoy them, let them bring you happiness.”
- Jan Phelan, Sarah Burke's mom.
Quote retrieved from the video at:  http://olympics.cbc.ca/blogs/author/nick-purdon/article/sarah-burke-legacy-lives-sochi-olympics.html

I forgot an appointment today. I missed my reminder on my email because I was away from my desk when it popped up on my computer. So fifteen minutes later I got a call from the person with whom I was to have met. "You coming?" Apologies and ten minutes later I was meeting with her. The meeting took less than the hour we had budgeted, but it did go over the time we were supposed to be finished (she had to see another person right after me). 

So I was late leaving her office. What that meant was that I took short-cuts through stores and a coffee shop on the way back to work. And in the coffee shop ... I saw her. It was someone I used to work with a couple of years previous and who hadn't seen me since my daughter passed away last October. 

She'd heard. It seems most everyone has. And she conveyed her condolences. We chatted for a bit as her to-go order came up and that's when she told me about the interview with Jan Phelan and the quote (above) that struck her and was so powerful that it made her cry. 

It was so powerful that it made me cry too. Which is as it should be. 

It was moving - the tremendous attitude of this mother whose daughter's life was cut short on a snowboarding slope as she trained for a lead-up to the first-ever half-pipe competition in a winter Olympics. It was inspiring. 

It was just what I needed to hear. 

There were times in my youngest daughter's life that I wasn't so sure if it had been a good idea to have another child. Times when I was fighting with schoolteachers and the mental health care system and even wondering why she would deliberately pick friends that made me uncomfortable... It wasn't easy parenting this kid who was so unbelievably the opposite from me. Sometimes I messed up royally! Most times I wondered if she was stringing me a line. 

And ... were it not for the last 35 days of her life, I would have said that it wasn't worth the trouble. All the nights I cried myself to sleep wondering if she was alive and safe. All the times I checked the weather forecast in Edmonton, Alberta to see if she might have frozen to death in her car the night before. All the money I poured into her bank account hoping that she'd find a place to live, thinking that all she needed was a chance to prove herself. There were people who told me that I was letting her take advantage of me.  I had given until there was nothing left to give and still I gave some more, going into debt to do it. And by rights, I should have given up and let her fend for herself. It wasn't worth the anguish and the sleepless nights. By rights.

But then ... there were those last 35 days. Those last, priceless, 35 days.

Summer 2012 at Victoria Park

Don't misunderstand me. She wasn't a saint and (we are learning now) she still pulled the wool over my eyes again and again about where and how she was spending the money I sent to her.  However, something fundamental ... something wonderful ... happened inside of her on September 17, 2013 that turned her life around ... and made the bad times seem more worth it. We connected on a deep, spiritual level. I remember her saying to me, nearly awestruck, in early October or thereabouts, "I just can't believe that you and I are talking about God. Of all things." It's all I ever wanted for her. It was my finest prayer, my finest hope for her to be able to experience Him in a real way like she did that night in September.

And no, I'm not some sort of masochist (someone who enjoys pain) when I say that it was worth it. And I'm not about to say that I'd do it all over again. Once was quite enough ... thank you. I'd rather crawl on my hands and knees over broken glass than go through that again. But ... I can see that there was a purpose in it all being allowed.  

Family relationships have been mended. New friendships have been forged. Existing friendships have been deepened. Some people have had their lives transformed by her legacy. Many other people all over North America, and even as far away as Australia, have been deeply touched by her story (link to that story here) and I believe firmly that it needs to be told, again and again. 

I also believe that it was no accident that I was running late today, that it was so cold that I was cutting through buildings to get where I was going. It was no coincidence that my old acquaintance was there or that she had watched the highlights reel of the Olympic coverage and caught that snippet of an interview with the mom of one of our would-be athletes. No, I don't believe in coincidences. As Albert Einstein said, coincidences are just God's way of remaining anonymous. 

Let her story touch you. That's what it is for. That's what makes the tragedy of her death worth it.

Across the Bridge

She rode between my knees in the vehicle, and didn't even go to the window to look out. Standing on her back legs would have been too painful for her, I thought to myself. And it was one of her favorite things to do when she went for a ride.

Hubby slowed and stopped, pulling over by the side of the road. I unhooked my seat-belt and opened the door, and got out. She didn't hear me; normally she'd be out before I was. 

She got out of the van, half-excited, half in discomfort (adrenaline can mask pain) and I tightened the leash and closed the van door. I waved goodbye to my husband; he had another errand to run and would pick me up after.

After. I tried not to think about after. All that mattered was now. 

Slowly, leisurely, even amid spits of rain, we sauntered up the long lane, lined on both sides with shade trees, grass, and all kinds of mixed wild flowers.

Raspberry canes had begun to bud already. I looked at them as we passed slowly by; their prickles were glistening in the morning's rain shower. The faint scent of raspberry blossoms not yet opened greeted me as I would stop when she stopped to explore a scent trail. After all, her sense of smell was almost the last one she had left completely intact. 

I thought of earlier times. Times when I'd have to call her back as a young dog from the neighboring field because she'd followed a scent trail out there and didn't quite know where we were or have the sense to follow her own trail back. Times when we'd scratch her just above the base of her tail and when we were done, she'd chase that tail and catch it ... and keep going round and round. We'd call her "bagel dog" because that was the shape her body made. Times when we'd be sweeping the floor and find one of those orange hockey balls she loved (and chewed on) so much. We'd throw the ball and she'd go racing after it, trotting back with it to us, and we'd have to take it out of her mouth because she wouldn't drop it unless we grabbed it first. Just two throws and the ball would be covered in dog saliva ... so we called the game "slime ball." She loved that game. As time went on and she was less able to run, she even learned to throw the ball for herself, watch it roll down the hallway and then trot after it.

A spit of rain managed to get past my glasses. It awakened me from my trip down memory lane and brought me back to the moment, on this our final walk. She was sniffing at some grass, and she nosed under some branches to get to the next patch of grass.

Among the foliage at the base in between the birches and beeches, I spotted first one, then a few, then several bunch-berry plants, the kind I used to call "trillium" ... until I knew what real trillium looked like. No, these had four smaller white petals in the center of a cluster of six much broader, green leaves. By the side of the lane, to my surprise, I saw a few late wild strawberry blossoms. Most of the flowers had dropped off most of the plants, but there were a few late bloomers amid the developing green fruit. A couple of them had flowered early, and had almost fully grown and ripened. I stopped to pick them, and tossed them gently into the greenery farther back, to start even more wild strawberry plants; I wasn't hungry. 

She was enjoying the moment. Her tail wagged a little as she smelled each new smell.

As we got closer to our destination, she hesitated more. Perhaps it was the smell of spilled oil in the parking lot that deterred her. I got her past the rainbow-streaks in that area and let her explore the front lawn of the clinic. She squatted a couple of times. It wasn't raining hard enough for her to feel like shaking off the water. 

Amid the budding "devil's paintbrush" at the top of the lane (dandelion-like flowers with multiple blooms on the same stem) I spied one lone buttercup, fully opened, symbol to me of promise and rest. They don't usually come out until July. 

Finally, after one final squat, I led Shari to the door of the clinic. 

The staff were very kind. They gave us as much time as we needed, and in their mercy gave me the paperwork to fill out beforehand rather than afterward. 

Afterward, I would be in no shape to sign papers and pay the bill. 

"Who's all in today?" I made conversation with the new girl behind the desk. "Doctor A____," she said, and Anne-Marie." 

That was such a relief for me. Anne-Marie had been there as a receptionist the first time we needed the vet's services back in the year 2000 for Shari's bladder stone surgery. Through the course of time she became the vet's assistant, and a competent and compassionate one. Though I knew this was hard for her too, I was glad she was there - a familiar face at the end.  

It made this just a tiny bit easier to bear. 

A few minutes later, Anne-Marie came out and we chatted. I told her how this had just crept up on us slowly and how the dog wasn't even asking to go out anymore; she was just doing her business wherever she wanted to inside the house. That, together with the growing discomfort in her joints, the digestive upsets, the deafness, the cataracts, the fatty tumors that pressed in on her heart and made her cough at the least excitement or exertion, the seizure she had two months ago, and the "doddering" she did when standing still (her head would "bobble" slightly), we could tell that her quality of life was starting to get really poor and that it would only get worse. 

"Yes," she agreed with me. "When they don't even bother asking to go out anymore, it's time." Her eyes filled with tears. So did mine. 

She asked me if I wanted Shari's collar and leash; I did. She switched out the collar and leash with one of theirs, handed me our set, took Shari in her arms - there was little if any struggle (unusual for her) - and carried her into the back. After having been present at Cody's final trip, I knew there was no way I could handle that experience again. I was so grateful that Anne-Marie was there.

Five minutes later, it was done. I know that the last thing she knew at the end was the touch of a compassionate hand. That meant a lot to me. 

A few minutes later, hubby was back from his errand, and he took the box containing her remains back to the van. We passed the return trip mostly in silence, only talking about anything but what had just taken place. 

I remember reading a book once by John Eldredge on the day-to-day relationship with God - it was the chronicle of just one year in his life. In the book, he described the relationship between himself and his dog, a golden retriever who loved to play ball - except he would never want to let go of the ball when he brought it back. The time came for him to say goodbye to his furry friend, and family and friends gathered with him at his home while the vet administered the final dose. At the moment of the dog's passing, even though the dog made no sound, two in the circle of friends heard a dog's bark. And then one of the friends got a strange, perplexed look on his face, turned to Mr. Eldredge and said, "I just got some words - I think they're supposed to be for you, John." 

"What are they?" John asked. 

"I'm not sure what this means, but I hear the words, 'He won't let go of the ball.' " 

That's one more reason why I know she went across Rainbow Bridge - and that as I write this, even now she is playing slime-ball.

Shari inviting me for a game of slime-ball

  And she won't let go, either.

Backtracking

I was chatting with one of my kids this morning, about the changes that have taken place in the last four years, things I never thought possible, things that have become the norm for me now.

It came to me that the changes are never-ending (that's as it should be), and that there are certain principles surrounding change that are good to remember in any transformation of behavior, whether it be a physical or a mental habit, a belief, or a behavior pattern. 

Here, in a cursory attempt to gel my own thoughts, is a summary of those principles.

Life is a journey. In every journey there are forks in the road - decisions that we make - that will affect outcomes. When the outcomes aren't what we planned, in the majority of cases, that can be directly connected to the choices we've made at those junctures. The longer we stay on a given path, the longer it will take to get back on the right one.

We all make mistakes. We stray off onto a bunny trail, fail to set boundaries, or encroach on others' boundaries ... and we end up paying the consequences. Some of those consequences are pretty wrenching, and we wish we could have a "do-over." Or that we could be airlifted out of the situation and somehow end up on the right road for a change.

The reality is that we need to get back on the right track. The question then becomes - how do we do that? How do we get on the right path when we have been on the wrong one for so long that it seems like the only one we have? 

Sometimes, we will need to accept "what is." Acceptance is huge. 

And sometimes, we will need to change what we can. That takes courage. 

Change is never easy!!

Sometimes, God takes pity on us, and we can be delivered from the consequences of our own choices; it happens. Divine deliverance still does happen. Sometimes. 

"Arrows Choice Shows Options Alternatives or Choosing" courtesy of Stuart Miles
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Most times, however, the way to the right path is simply by stopping, fighting our way back to that junction at which we made the wrong decision or series of decisions, and making the right one or ones. And then ... sticking with it.

Backtracking is hard. It involves a lifestyle change, a paradigm shift in how we relate to God, to ourselves, and / or to others. Or a shift from just believing something to acting upon it.  It also involves a great deal of effort to overcome inertia - that tendency to allow things to carry on as they have been. If something is important enough to make that kind of a change, it's important enough to follow through on.

Nobody promised that it would be a walk in the park. The new way of thinking and behaving feels odd, uncomfortable, strange, unnatural. That's because it is.

Do it anyway. 

Backtracking, regaining lost territory, making things right again, learning a new way of thinking, believing and behaving, is like any new thing - it will feel awkward at first. It will take practice - and there will be times when we do it without the finesse that we would like - before it starts to feel a bit more "normal." Making mistakes is a given; however, it's okay to stop, rethink, go back, admit the mistake to those involved, and try again. 

Even if it's hard. 

It will take time. We will want to see results long before they happen. That too is normal. However, the only way to get those results is to consistently stick with the program, so to speak. Think of it this way - we reap what we sow. But sowing and reaping don't happen both at once: there is a period of time that is needed for the seed to germinate, grow, mature, and produce flower and/or fruit. This is the way of things. Instant results only work in the cartoon where Bugs Bunny puts a drop of water on the Instant Martian. Poof. 

The real world doesn't work like that. 

It does help, though, to have support and encouragement. We can be grateful indeed if we have friends who will help us, pray for us, and encourage us to keep the faith. And by far the best encouragement comes from that inner voice - - the one that is in our corner, the one that looks out for our best interests - even if it means that we are uncomfortable sometimes. Even if that voice might only be a whisper ... for now.

It will get louder ... if we keep listening to it.

An Almost Everything Week

So I guess those of you who read this blog know that my daughter dislocated her kneecap on November 30, 2012, and that she's been attending physiotherapy while being monitored by an orthopedic surgeon.

When she went to see him in January after five weeks off work, the knee hadn't come along as quickly in healing as the specialist had thought. We asked why he didn't order an MRI. "These soft-tissue injuries generally settle on their own," he replied. "In all my years of doing this, I've only seen one situation where the patellar dislocation was hiding a deeper issue in the underlying ligaments, and the patient needed surgery to correct it. Besides, we only have one MRI machine for the whole Island. When you see me again in three weeks," he turned to her and spoke directly, "if you are not smiling when you do, I'll order the MRI." 

On February 5, she wasn't smiling. He ordered the MRI. "When the hospital calls you with a date, ask to be put on the cancellation list," he advised her.  "In the wintertime, with people in the country not wanting to chance the road when there are 'a few flakes' and the forecast is nasty; it shouldn't take long."

It took a few days to get the paperwork in place. She called the hospital herself after waiting almost a week. "Oh yes," they said. Your date is June 19th." 

(Gulp). She immediately asked to be put on the cancellation list. They obliged! 

Then we began noticing how often we had storms on the weekend this year. When it wasn't the weekend, it was a civic holiday. We prayed. "A storm, just a little one, to discourage someone from making the trip? Please?" (Was this me, the one who HATES winter, praying for a STORM??) Yet, we'd seen her hobble from room to room. We knew she was going to need surgery. We knew in our guts, "The sooner the better." That was this past Monday - the civic holiday when it was storming and the Island shut down for hours.

"Kingdom of Cold" courtesy of Evgeni Dinev at
www.FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Two days later, (this past Wednesday) with freezing rain and snow forecast for later in the day, she and her father went for a few errands. She got a temporary handicapped permit so that it would be easier for us to park and get in and out of places while she was recuperating. She paid her insurance premiums for her work's health care plan. 

Then, when they got back home, there was a message waiting on the voice mail. "This is radiology calling. Can you come in for 3 pm?" Her heart sank; it had been left over an hour prior to her return. 

Forty-five minutes later, the phone rang. "Are you still interested in that 3 pm appointment?"

OH yeah. With bells on! 

She managed quite well, and soon afterward we were laughing and joking over how quick it all was and how the promised storm held off until we were home!

I also started deepening my understanding of how ironic and quirky God's sense of humor is - using the things I hate most about winter to our benefit, and after all the complaining I'd been doing this year about the cold! Oh, He's a witty One. ;)

Anyway, the next morning, Thursday, she called the surgeon's office. "Can I get an appointment? I just got my MRI yesterday afternoon." They booked one for March 8. Wow - about 2 weeks, not bad!

Yesterday morning, Friday, she got yet another call. "This is Dr. ____'s office. We have the results of your MRI. The doctor wants to see you as soon as possible. Can you come in today at 11:15 to discuss?" 

A quick exam to confirm the MRI findings was all that he needed ... and so he told her what the results were. Without getting all technical, when she dislocated her kneecap, (this happened three times after the initial injury, all within a week and a half of it!) three ligaments were stretched permanently and were now too lax, making the knee unstable and more prone to dislocating again. Those ligaments, every time she re-injured, got frayed against the back of her kneecap, which runs along a vertical trench-like groove, like a taut rope fraying against a length of wood. 

This needed to be repaired by shortening the now too-long ligaments and securing with screws. 

Surgery.

"While I'm in there, I'd like to shift the focal point of your knee because it's off-center," he told her. This involves operating on the tendon that goes from the bottom of the kneecap to the top of the shin-bone, separating it from the shin-bone and re-attaching it more toward the center of her stance. What this will do is correct that knock-knee problem she's had since she was a baby and prevent her from hurting it again. 

Once all her (and our) questions were answered, he wrote the requisition for surgery. Right on the requisition, he wrote, "Place on cancellation list." 

Before she even got a surgery date.

Of course, they'll send her information in the mail with her "if not before" date and instructions for pre-surgery... yes. But usually she'd have to wait for that information and THEN call to be put on the cancellation list. 

We got the impression he was trying to bump her to the front of the line. Just an impression, you understand. Perhaps he was feeling a little guilty that he'd waited so long? that she was the one exception in the last 20 years that he hadn't counted on?  Perhaps.

We're just so glad that the wheels are moving, that this will be over sooner rather than later, and that things can get back to normal and she might even be better than before she hurt herself! 

Was it only a month ago that someone (who shall remain nameless) turned to me at the kitchen table and said that he was not convinced that God cared about us? 

Hmmm.

That same person turned to me last night and said, "You know, I think I'll start a gratitude journal. I forget so easily."

*happy sigh....*

Silent Vigil

She has seen every Christmas morning in our house since the children were bouncing squiggles of excitement. 

She's watched our family and listened as we have lived our lives up to and following the Big Day - seen how we struggle to keep peace between ourselves, seen how we cope with upsets and setbacks, and endured our choice of TV programming. (After all, how many times can one watch "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"?)

Christmas 2012 treetopper - taken today

She is our Christmas angel tree-topper. Year after year she has presided over the good and the not-so-good. Constant and true, she has held her two lights up high for all who would look. Regardless of the quality of our decorating, she has provided the graceful piece de resistance, covering a multitude of patently untalented decorators' sins. 

Robed in colors of gold and crimson and white, she is a continual reminder of the original Reason for the Season... an object lesson of the constancy and the ever-watchful, ever-loving eye of the One whose birth we choose to celebrate at this time of year. Even when circumstances don't seem particularly joyful. Or joyful at all.

She was there the day that - because of a poorly balanced tree - our eldest bore the brunt of the imbalance and the tree fell on top of her. We were grateful our little girl was not hurt! Ever afterward, we took special care to completely balance the tree so that it was perfectly upright. 

She was there, keeping silent vigil, as our feeble gifts to one another ... in rich times and in poor ... reminded us that we were loved much, that there were people in this world who believed in us, who supported us and our dreams, who suffered with us as we grieved the physical absence of those greatly loved ones no longer among us. 

She listened every Christmas morning to each of us as we took a turn reading the Christmas story, transported back to the hills and caves around Bethlehem right along with us, and she heard us sing Happy Birthday Jesus as a family (a song that still brings tears to my eyes and a catch in my voice) ... right before opening our gifts. She has been witness to the oohs and ahs of surprise and wonder - and to our frantic scramble to dispose of the wrappings after all was said and done, the smells of cooking turkey, and the laughter and "happy tears" of friends and family as we shared each other's company. 

Tragedies and triumphs, joys and regrets, love expressed, memories made. She's seen it all for the last twenty-odd years. 

If she could talk... I wonder what she'd say.

Sea of Tranquility

I nudge my scrawny, 10-year-old body between two spruce trees, avoiding the prickles and dead twigs protruding from the bottom, and I pause.  I see a carpet of green grass, ringed completely by evergreens so thick that it is difficult to see past, and tricky to navigate on foot.  I allow the safety of this place, its beauty and quietness, to seep into my tired spirit.

My brother had shown this place to me a few years previous.  He called it the "Sea of Tranquility" - named after the same place on the moon - a flat place which was ringed in, protected.  I had visited here several times since.  

I pad silently into the circle.  The summer breeze plays 'in and out the window' between my bare, scabbed knees, war scars from learning to ride a bike.  There is just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes away.  The sun soaks heat and restoration into my skin.  Here, the only sounds are the distant chirping of a cricket, the buzz of a couple of grasshoppers singing to each other, and the occasional bird chirping from one of the trees.  So peaceful.  So different.  

I lie down on my back, and lift my thoughts above.  The clouds are playing slow-motion tag, and I watch the birds swooping to catch flies on the fly, above me. My tense muscles start to unclench.  My soul drinks Creation in, like a desert traveler coming upon a natural spring.  Yet in the back of my mind I tell myself, "Mustn't stay here long.  She'll wonder ... and then I'll be in for it."  

The uncut grass blades tickle the backs of my legs.  I rub my calves together to take the prickling feeling away.  Slowly, the miracle of Nature soothes my thoughts, salves my troubles, and gives me just a little more strength.  The mental straitjacket loosens enough for me to catch a breath of the divine.  I allow myself to feel the caress of comfort.  I am not aware that I have begun to smile until a few minutes later, when I catch myself doing it. I close my eyes.

I hear a dog bark; it jolts me from my reverie.  I don't know how long I've been here, but my stomach lurches suddenly in panic.  Not because of the dog; I know all the dogs and they like me.  Not like her.  

I roll over onto one elbow and tuck my knees under me, rocking back onto my feet again.  I take one last look around and fill my lungs with freedom, enough to last me until the next time.  As I breathe out, my spirit says "Thank You," and my heart is resigned to what awaits me.  I tighten the straps around my heart once again, and squeeze past the trees, heading back the way I came.

Distance - not speed

I was talking to a buddy of mine just in the last couple of days about his desire to do a bit more walking.  He was berating himself - because he has arthritis - for not being able to hoof along like he used to.  That's when I imparted some of the knowledge I have learned on the subject:  "In walking, it's not how fast you go, it's how far you go."  True.  (Hm, maybe that's the reason people start jogging, to go farther in less time.  But it's hard on the knees!  I think my friend is better off walking...)  

Source: (from Google Images) is
http://www.southwaterfront.com/health_and_wellness/winter-healthy-talk-walk/

For those of us who are unable to jog (heck, I am lucky if I can waddle!) the trick to walking is making the time to go as far as you can comfortably go.  Every step is about three feet (well, for shorter people like me, that's two feet).  So walking a mile, whether it takes ten minutes or thirty, still uses up the same amount of calories.  And as long as the heart gets elevated up to a certain percent above normal (which can be accomplished by swinging the arms when you walk instead of walking faster) then it will do just as much good.  

It's the same with developing and maintaining a relationship with God and with oneself (and eventually with others, as the first two get more healthy).  The magic wand, the divine Zap ... very rarely happens.  Usually it's slow and steady - and if you look at today compared to yesterday, it would be easy to get discouraged simply by virtue of the fact that you haven't covered that much distance since yesterday.  Compare it to a year ago, or two, or three years - and there you have your measuring stick.  

It's a journey of millimeters, day by day, hour by hour, sometimes even minute by minute.  You hardly know a change is happening - but it happens nonetheless. One step at a time.  Sometimes the last thing you want to do is take another step.  But it's the next right thing - and somehow the strength is there because felt or not, God is right there empowering you.  And when you get to a place where you can rest a bit - and THEN look back - the distance from the starting point is absolutely amazing.  

And it leads to the next step, this time with a smidge more confidence. And then the next.  

God is very near.

Lowest Common Denominator

Let's say his name is Sam.  You know him; everyone has seen him.  He's the homeless guy who occupies the same corner, travels the same route, has the same line to beg for some change on a cold winter's day.  He might live in a cardboard box.  He might live in a dumpster.  He reeks of unwashed clothes, food residue, and stale sweat. 

Sam doesn't talk about where he's been, how he got to live on the streets.  His main concern is the next muffin, the next cup of coffee, staying warm when the weather is cold, getting out of the biting January wind, staying safe from those who would take advantage of his powerlessness.  Most people avert their eyes from him.  Of those who do stop to talk, a number of them only do so to turn down his requests for change.  He goes into a store to get out of the elements.  The store clerks roll their eyes and if he stays too long, they call the police to escort him out.  Not that he's causing a disturbance.  His presence just makes shoppers uncomfortable.  It's bad for business.  

Photo found at
http://static.photo.net/attachments/
bboard/00E/00Ervf-27534584.jpg

A lot of us don't like to look at Sam or at folks like him - those who've been reduced to the lowest common denominator - human and nothing but human, stripped of all the facades.  I wonder if it's because we might see something of ourselves in him, something that we hide away from in our everyday lives.  Something so unutterably soul-wrenching that it takes our breath away.  An honest, uncluttered representation of need.  

In a way, we are all Sam.  We all need someone to show us a little mercy.  We all need ... pure and simple.  Powerless, vulnerable, curious, lonely, needy people.  There is no call for us to declare ourselves (whether consciously or subconsciously) better than he is.  We all need love.  We all need healing.  

I wonder what would happen if the tables were suddenly turned and we who consider ourselves in the majority - or even in the right - were to suddenly find ourselves in the position of being in the minority, being seen as disposable, and/or having to depend upon others the way Sam is forced to do.  I wonder how much of our self-righteousness and superiority would disappear.  

Perhaps it's enough just to consider what it would feel like to put ourselves in his shoes. I hope so.

Serenity - Courage - Wisdom ... part three

"God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference." 

I was reading in a daily devotional book this morning; the topic was on watching where you go - something about paying attention to your path.  But it was a verse shortly before that which caught my attention most.  It also happens to be one of my favorite ones in this healing process I call 'recovery' - which is simply another word for 'restored sanity'.  It said, "Above all, guard your heart, for out of it flow the well-springs of life." (Proverbs 4:23)   

(I think I've said before that) I used to think this meant that my heart had to be watched like a hawk, because it couldn't be trusted as far as I could throw a Mack truck.  But it doesn't mean that at all.  It means that my most important relationships are the ones I have with God and with myself (both out of which flow my relationships with others).  It means that only in right relationship with God and with myself (and it is essential to have a nurturing relationship with oneself) can those daily paths be attended to, the ones Solomon told his son to pay attention to.  

"The Creation of Man" detail (God's hand is on the right, man's
on the left) - Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel ceiling 
Source of the image above:
http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/rayortlund/2011/03/28/
depending-solely-on-god/

It boils right down to this.  Wisdom to know the difference between the things I can't change and the things I can ... has only come for me with a dedicated focus on my relationship with God, and a commitment to know myself as I truly am, not as others have painted me.  

It's in daily dependence on God.  I believe that this is the only "dependency relationship" that is healthy because it is the only one humans were created for.  The more time I spend with Him, the more grateful I am for His presence. The more I value His opinion and am aware of how much He loves me, the more I want to honour Him in all things. The more I depend on Him, the better I'm able to see what's true, right, and honest, and when I'm just deceiving myself.

He lets me know He is there.  Sometimes in the smallest of ways.  But when I am living in a "God-conscious" state of mind, nearly everything reminds me of His presence, His power to transform, His love.  He even reminds me to take care of myself when I need to do that (and of course, part of that self-care involves keeping my contact with Him close).  When I don't, there's a nameless feeling of uneasiness that creeps in, and sometimes it takes several hours, days, even weeks to pinpoint.  

Sometimes I even have had to be told by caring and loving friends that I am not "myself" lately.  (That's still a new experience for me, because up until a couple of years ago I didn't even know who "myself" was!!)  At such times I look first to that vertical plumb-line and see, yes, it's been shifted off centre and I need to be still and let Him come to the middle - my middle - the centre of who I am.  The less I do (in the sense of frantically trying to please Him with what I do) and the more I allow myself to be (that is, resting in His love, His grace, His power) the more 'opportunities' open up for me to share what He has done in me, and communicate that (or even a part of that) to someone who asks. 

Which reminds me.  I've discovered, in my Christian faith, that if I am not BEing, I might as well not DO anything because it will backfire. Every time. When I am living in daily and intimate relationship with God, it shows in my attitudes toward work, family, friends, leisure, ... everything.  He fills me up with an awareness of Him being with me - and in me.  Out of that automatically flows opportunities to be there, to be a friend, to be a conduit of healing and mercy to the most unexpected (and unexpecting!) of recipients - and for that I can't take one bit of credit.  Nor would I try.

God sets it up, He orchestrates the whole thing, and I'm simply left in awe of how He does it...  I'm just glad to occasionally be there when He does.

Plan B

I love it when a plan comes together.  And I say that when things work out the way I planned them.  Which, truth be told, doesn't happen often.  Only occasionally, in fact.  

For most of my life I have found it incredibly difficult to "unhook" from my agenda for an event or an itinerary.  It's all part of that control thing - I must bend the circumstances to my will (yeah, how crazy is that.)  And if the unexpected happened and it all fell to pieces in my hands - which it did (does) often - more often than not I got (get) really bummed out.  

The times when I haven't - have been times when I actually thought of a "Plan B" - played the 'what if it doesn't go the way I want?' game with myself.  Kind of a silly thing for a middle-aged person to admit but it's a skill I never developed until recently: so focused on the goal was I that it was inconceivable for the players and the stage not to do my bidding.  And I must admit that I have to remind myself to think up alternate scenarios, learn to roll with the punches, unhook from my pre-conceived idea of what something will be, how someone will act.  Even such a simple matter as a breakfast "out" on a Saturday morning can throw me into a tizzy when I was counting on certain parameters - like who wakes up and when - fall into the toilet. 

When I learned about "letting go" this was one of the things that was kind of like a hanger-on, a stubborn vestige that wouldn't leave.  

Then I realized what it was about.  It was about expecting perfection.  I expected perfection from myself and from others.  I was expecting all to go as planned because I had this perfect scenario in my head.  When it wasn't perfect - I got mad. Sometimes I still do! 

Knowing it is half the battle... but there's still the other half.  ;)   That's part of the insidious nature of codependency: wanting to fill that God-shaped part of me, the part that craves perfection, perfect understanding, perfect love, perfect purity, perfect justice - by either being that for others or having others be that for me.  I need to remember that I'm not God and that others are not either.   I need to lighten up and give myself - and others - a break.  And compared to a couple of years ago, wowwie, it's one heckuva lot better than it was.  

I still have work to do though. 

One final thought as I close off.  Someone whose friendship I really have come to value, reminded me today that while it's God and God alone who provides the strength for me to walk in this new lifestyle, it is I who must take the steps.

Every Little Thing Counts

I'm carrying on a silent conversation nearly all the time with God.  We talk about everything, and sometimes we even use words.  

A couple of days ago, a Baptist pastor, Pastor Nelms, prayed an opening prayer to 'bless' a Nascar event that was taking place, and his choice of words raised quite a few eyebrows.  Among the words he used were thanks for his "smokin' hot wife" (something I commend him for doing, since far too few men would say they are attracted to their spouse and especially not in public).  But it wasn't limited to that.  He also thanked God for the (insert brand name here) tires, the (insert brand name here) fuel, etc.  I was starting to wonder what god the guy was praying to because it sure sounded like an avid fan's endorsement of all the Nascar sponsors, rather than a prayer.

Photo courtesy of:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/25/
nascar-prayer-pastor-joe-nelms_n_908721.html

There was no question it was heart felt.  

There was no question he was truly thankful.

Yet - how did the watching world see it? 

Well-l, the reaction I've been seeing is one of tee-hees and snickers.  Equating Christians with red-necks who only think about their truck, their dog, and the next left-hand turn (a Nascar reference, for you non-racing folks like me ...) not necessarily in that order.  Religifying absolutely everything.  Even the tires on the race-cars.  

Well, I must say that it was amusing to listen to - and I laughed so very hard the first time I heard it, especially his references to his family and the way he ended the prayer, "In Jesus' name, boogity boogity boogity Amen!!"  I'm just hoping that the world doesn't think that every Christian worships Nascar any more than they would think that every single person who speaks arabic is a terrorist.  Neither is true.

Regardless of how I feel (or don't feel) about Nascar... or about the reaction of the folks who have an opportunity to bask in the stereotypes Christians get (some with good reason!) the incident raises some interesting questions.  One of them is the idea of being able to pray anywhere about anything.  And that, I believe, is where the expression, "Every little thing counts" is important. The apostle Paul said to pray without ceasing.  To always give thanks for all things to God.  (Okay - I guess that would include sexy spouses too....ya-hoo!)

Yes, I pray about parking spaces, people crossing the street, and the next file I pick up at work, as well as the bigger things like the health of the family pets, someone's sickness, a grieving family, and the people impacted by a natural disaster or a tragedy.  

I do it because I believe God hears and I believe He cares.  And when not praying I try to listen; God's voice comes in many ways and through any number of people with whom I interact.  He surprises me sometimes at the variety of ways, the plethora of circumstances through which He gets His message across to me.   If listening is hard, I listen to music or get by myself and read a Good Book, among other things.  

I'm learning not to put Him in a box and say that He only can speak through or use this thing or that thing, this person or that person.  Sometimes I can't see how that could be possible and He ALWAYS surprises me, as I fully expect Him to do with Pastor Nelms.  

He can - and does - use every little thing to speak to me, just as I am learning to speak to Him about every little thing.

Something to Prove

The past two years has been a whirlwind journey into self-discovery and there have been many changes in my life as a result: particularly in my relationships with myself, with God, and with others.  Even with all of that, though, there are times when I slip back into old mind-sets and ill-conceived beliefs.   

One thing that tells me that I'm cycling into a pattern of self-destructive behavior is when I catch myself trying to prove something to someone else: either what I think they should do, how dysfunctional they are, how much I was hurt, or even how 'normal' I am.  

It amazes me how many times I slip into that "something to prove" mentality and how it just goes back to the basic things that I struggled with when I was a child - selfish competition with siblings, power struggles to be the favorite of a parent (knowing that there was no way I could be), herculean efforts to impress the  "in crowd" while sacrificing my identity - and how behavior like that lets me know that there is something amiss in the maintenance of my spiritual condition.

I slip back into those patterns more easily when I'm tired - which is another sign for me.  Exhaustion usually means I'm not looking after myself the way I need to. That I haven't set the proper boundaries for myself.  

When my conscious contact with God is in good shape, when I'm living from the inside out, feeling my feelings and letting them identify problem areas in my relationships, life just works better for me.  I fully enjoy those times.  But when I'm tired, or find myself spiraling downward, that's also an experience from which I can benefit if I will stop, take stock, and roll the entire mess into God's lap, knowing that He will make sense of it all, make the crooked places smooth, the valleys high and the mountains level, and my life will - well, for lack of a better expression - get back to (the new) normal: where I'm no longer scrambling to be the best, look the best, do the best. Where I can rest in His love.

That's when I no longer have anything to prove - and can just be peacefully grateful that He loves and accepts me just the way I am.

Basics

It's kind of weird how, as we go on in our lives, we tend to accumulate so much baggage.  Strange little things remind me of this - like recently my purse strap broke and I started to transfer my "stuff" to a new purse.  I found things in the old purse that I thought, "What's THAT doing there?" and found a place for it elsewhere.  And it's true in life.  The baggage gets heavier and heavier and we don't realize we're carrying a whole whack-load of stuff around that needs clearing out. Until something breaks or comes apart, something we took for granted perhaps.

Then we understand that God is all about relationship, much as we try to make it about impressing Him - or impressing others in His name.  We figure if we spend our time doing things FOR Him that He'll be gratified.  But that's not what He wants most.  The most important word in His vocabulary is the word "WITH."  That's basic.  It's foundational.

God's promise "I am with you" appears again and again in the Bible.  It takes many forms: "I surround you, I am your rear guard (i.e., "I got your back"), I will never leave you, I have carved you on the palms of My hands, and so many more assurances of His presence, His companionship, His help.  The relationship, as stated in these passages, is not so much of a boss and employee as it is a friend or a parent.  Now I know that some have a problem with either or both of these analogies because of bad life-experiences.  But I can bet that there isn't one person among those people who hasn't fantasized about the ideal father or the ideal friend.

That's who He is. 

He's about face-to-face relationship.  Getting to know each other better and better, the feeling of being at home in each other's company, looking forward to the next encounter or the next adventure,  exploring each other's many facets ... that kind of relationship. And over time, there is a growing sense of feeling comfortable enough with each other to share innermost thoughts and feelings, to make every day a living conversation which is fulfilling to both parties.

When that is first, we will take our cues from Him and we will naturally come in contact with those whose lives we were intended to touch.  There will be nothing forced, no sense of duty involved.  It will all be love-based, gratitude-based, relationship-based.  And the artificial trappings we have built up, things based on shoulds and oughtas, musts and sposta's, will fall off like Punchinello's dots.  (see my post called "You Are Special" [yes, that's a link] if you haven't already.)

And when we get tired - and we WILL get tired - we can rest in the one thing we know is solid: His love.  We didn't have to go begging for a little attention; He took the initiative and came looking for us.  We love Him, as 1 John says, because He first loved us.  And what a love!!  We can know that He is looking out for us, that He is singing with joy over us, that He is planning wonderful things for us.

There's something validating about all of that.  It grows not only love, but trust, gratitude, grace, confidence, peace and so much more.

But it all starts - and ends - with the basics.

Upside Down

Yesterday, I spent several hours in the company of two very different and distinct groups of people who have only one thing in common...they have found that a relationship with God is the only way to true happiness.  Each has an important role to play in my spiritual life.

As I talked to my best friend (my husband) about this, he directed me to a Youtube video last night called "Reverse Thinking"  -  a 2 and a half minute video that I believe is well worth watching if for no other reason than it makes a person think.  Its premise is simple. The way we look at life (as Obi Wan Kenobi said in "the Empire Strikes Back", many of the truths we cling to) really depend(s) upon our own point of view.  And a paradigm shift in our point of view really can change the way we look at life.  I thought the video was freaky.


It can be found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgFU5Ak88-k

Here it is below - hoping the code will work (grin) - and if it doesn't ... just click on the link above :

Turning the Page

I remember when I was a kid my mother would never let me turn the calendar page before the first of the month.

Not even the night before. She was kind of obsessed about it.

Her fear stemmed from superstition that someone might die if the page were turned because "fate" would decide that tomorrow was taken for granted.

I just loved the idea of a new start - a fresh month with uncharted territory in it.

So now, I turn the page ... the night before, just before bedtime.  And nothing bad happens - and in the morning I can glance up during my busy morning routine and know just what day it is, what I have planned that week, and there's the little thrill of the brand new page.  Funny how that happens.

And the month I really love to put behind me is February.  For me it is the longest month of the year even though on the calendar it is the shortest.  Yet it happens in my least favorite time of year - the dead of winter.

I saw something a few days ago that gave me some hope that things would change, that spring was on its way.  

Icicles.

All winter long the snow has been piled high on everything and just the other day, I noticed that icicles had formed on the eave of our roof.  It meant that some of the snow had melted under all that white, and dripped to the edge of the roof.  As it hit the cold air it froze and formed ... bit by little bit ... icicles all along the edge of the roof. 

Then, just this past Sunday morning, I happened to spy a maple tree in our evergreen hedge, with the tiniest swelling on the tip of each little branch.  It's starting to bud. 


My heart leaped inside!

Only another month before I get to hear the mourning doves, see the geese fly back, and look for the first pussy-willows to emerge in the little garden spot outside where I work. 

It will be a while before I see my favorite spring flower - but who knows? maybe during that time I will also see that first crocus on someone's property ... not ours of course because we are up on a hill and pretty much out in the open - so the winter winds howl longer and harder here than they do in the more sheltered areas of the city.  But our turn will come.  

Spring always comes.

Turning pages, on the calendar, in the seasons, or in life - brings hope - hope that things will be better if they've been rotten, hope that things will be marvelous if they've been good.  

I guess I celebrated an anniversary of sorts yesterday.  Two years ago, I started on the journey that has begun to rid me of all the things that have bound me for so many years, bound me in slavery to the great god "Should" and its evil side-kick "shouldn't."  Such wounds from the past that I can't begin to describe how they scarred, marred me.  God enters into those dead places and brings hope where there was despair, sunshine and birdsong where it was only bleakness and silence.  

Which I guess is another reason why I turned the calendar page yesterday.   
Happy March!  

Marketing? the Faith?

I was reading a friend's blog and she was talking about a couple of men coming to the door to proselytize their religion.  Of course they called it sharing their faith.

Some of these door-to-door folks can be quite ... persistent.  I wonder if they're trained not to take no for an answer (or not to walk away until someone gets angry and yells at them, thus scoring a "win" by being persecuted.)


Somehow that reminds me of a brief stint I put in as a telemarketer several years ago.  Yes.  I was desperate.  Yes.  I hated the job.  And yes, I did sell stuff people didn't want to people who probably couldn't afford it.  That's why I hated it - and I quit as soon as I possibly could.  I think I lasted about 3 or 4 weeks actually.  Ughh!

In my telemarketer training, I was told that as long as a sales prospect (note, they are not people, they are prospects) had an objection, a reason for turning down the incredible offer-of-a-lifetime, we "had" them - for there was a scripted answer to every possible objection.  The only statement a telemarketer can't refute is "I'm not interested.  No, no reason.  I'm just not interested.  Goodbye."

Huh.  There's food for thought.

But I digress.  I was also thinking that sometimes we as Christians have bought into this whole "marketing" thing, to our own detriment and that of the cause of Christ. Maybe it's not telemarketing but it is marketing the gospel, making it palatable, pushing and pushing until people hate to see us coming.  (Last night my daughter answered the phone after the 8th time from it ringing with an 800 number on the caller ID; she yelled in frustration into the phone, "QUIT CALLING!!" We all cheered when she hung up!)  

We Christians, especially those in leadership but also those of us (and I can be this way too) who just can't seem to let God be God - do ourselves and the world a great disservice.  We seek the best platform, try to find the right program, buy into the right gimmick - and basically use the world's marketing methods to do something that (according to the Bible) God's Spirit is supposed to do: convince people of their brokenness and bring them to Jesus.  We treat human beings outside the church (at best) like sales prospects ... and forget that they are really people: people who have real lives, real circumstances, real feelings.  All we need to do for the world (and even for that, God is the One who enables us, for without Him we can do nothing) is love God, love each other and love the hurting ones without judging them.  

Melody Beattie says in her book, "The Language of Letting Go" - (©1990 Hazelden) as she speaks about letting go and letting God lead and guide in our lives, "We will know when to go, to stop, and to wait. We will learn a great truth: the plan will happen in spite of us, not because of us." (February 11 reading)

It's so simple.  At least that's what the Good Book says. We quit doing God's job for Him and let Him be God in our own lives, let Him love us, let Him love others through us. That will naturally spill out into the lives of those with whom we come in contact and change the world, one life at a time.  

Each one, reach one - with love.  God will take care of the rest.