IF YOU CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE...

I suppose we all grow up with family sayings, those bits of wisdom passed down from parent to child to grandchild.

I remember Mom challenging me to pause before speaking, to consider what I was about to say in light of these questions:  Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary? Is it helpful? (Excellent advice, although I haven't always followed it.)

"You can catch more bees with honey than with vinegar," my Dad once told me.

"Advice is always better received when it has been solicited."

"Can't never could."

I don't remember when this saying was impressed upon me, or who said it:  "If you can't afford to lose, you can't afford to play the game." It was probably introduced when I was a child, caught exhibiting bad sportsmanship upon losing a game with one of my siblings. The bottom line was, if I couldn't handle losing with composure and a measure of grace, if losing meant my world was going to fall to pieces, then I didn't need to play.

True for a board game with siblings. True also for financial and emotional investments. If I can't deal with equanimity with the possibility of things NOT going the way I would like, then I probably lack sufficient resources (financially, emotionally, etc.) to take the risks involved and I need to turn around and walk away from the deal.

If I can't handle losing, if losing shatters my peace and leaves my world in ruins,...well, the problem isn't that I lost, but that committed resources (my sense of self-worth, my understanding of personal success, my foundation for security or peace, etc.) that I didn't really have. I'm like a bankrupt gambler being told at gun-point to pay up at the end of an abysmal run of poker.

What are some big losses that I have incurred in the game of life...

I have lost time.
I have lost my privacy.
I have lost a degree of freedom.
I have lost my health a few times.
I have lost my trust of others.
I have lost my innocence.
I have lost loved ones - to physical distance, to sin, and even to death.

Some of these losses threatened to undo me. I felt like the world truly was crashing down around me. Thankfully, when my heart or my health or my hope were imploding, when I was most completely bankrupt, God always stepped in to cover my losses, to see me through the crisis, to give me hope for a better day, to remind me of the promise of Glory.

I lost a dear friend a few months ago. Most days, I don't feel her absence too terribly...but then there are days when the hole is huge and dark and her absence pulls on my heart so strongly that I feel like I can't breathe.

Thankfully, God redeems my losses, every single one of them, even this one. He turns it into a great big beautiful longing to be with him and to be reunited with those who stand already in his company.

Without this great and good God, I truly could not afford to play. My heart has been broken so many times - how can I possibly afford to risk having it broken again? Without this great and good God, life would simply be too hard, too costly. I would not be able to afford losing again. Losing would hurt too badly.

With this great and good God, truly losing, in the ultimate sense, isn't even a possibility.

FAITH? OR FEAR?

Relationships, work, parenting, church life, ministry, short-term goals, aspirations for the future...

What drives my attitudes, the way I interact with others, the decisions I make and the actions I take in each of these areas?

Around the kitchen table this weekend, we were having a conversation about the sometimes bumpy, often drawn out transition from childhood to adulthood. Different folks were commenting on the excitement they felt at certain times, when they realized they had "crossed over" in some significant way.

"Like the first time you are allowed to go back on the farm with a gun by yourself," interjected one young man. "You realize that your parents trust you, and you get this feeling of pride and responsibility. It's kind of a rush!"

I want to be the kind of parent, mentor, friend, co-worker, ministry partner who dares to let others know the excitement of "growing up," of engaging as a respected and valued co-laborer.

As a parent, as a leader at work or in ministry, it is often a very scary thing to "let go" and let others use their gifts and talents and training without having them run through a pre-flight check list with you first. Even when you trust those under you - when you know them intimately and have great confidence in their ability - it is still so very difficult to take your hands off the controls and let them fly.

I have had to ask myself often over the years:  Why is it so hard for me to let go and trust others to do what I know they are capable of doing? The newly-licensed driver taking the family van to work, driving solo for the first time ever. Leaving the college student at the boarding gate for her first unaccompanied international flight. The timid sister in Christ, leading her first devotional. The rather inexperienced co-worker, volunteering to organize and oversee the new project at work. These scenarios terrify me!

And then, when I do endeavor to step back and let others use their gifts, when I try very hard to loosen my grasp on the flight controls, I find myself constantly battling the urge to interject how I think things should be done. I want desperately to jump in and micro-manage. (Honestly, I really just want things done MY way - I am so much more comfortable with my way!)

Why is giving up control so dang hard?!!

For me, it seems the issue always comes down to:  am I walking in faith? or am I walking in fear? And ultimately, what is it (or who is it) that I am placing my faith in? And of what am I so afraid?

Okay, I admit it - I am afraid my young driver might not be alert enough to other drivers. I am afraid she might get distracted. I am afraid of the carelessness of other drivers on the road. I am afraid the van might break down.

She's a good driver - I know that - and honestly, my problem is not that I don't trust her or her driving. Ultimately, my problem is that I don't trust God. I am afraid that while my young driver is behind the wheel, some situation may arise that is beyond God's foresight or control.

Or letting one of the other writers steer the direction for a new series of articles. I have more experience; I am a better writer; I am more attuned to what our readers like and want. What if Mr. Amateur's idea is a flop? What if we lose readers? What if our editor cancels the series?!

Or asking one of our younger ladies to share her testimony or plan an activity for our moms' group. What if she says something that is not doctrinally spot on with my understanding of Scripture? What if she commits our group to a ministry that not everyone is excited about?

Oh. My. Word.

Like God isn't aware of my young driver; like he doesn't know the other drivers on the road! Like I really know better than God just what will touch the hearts of our readers! Like we can't learn from faulty theology, like God's Word is impotent for adequately and lovingly addressing error!

I admit it:  I am a perfectionist. "Perfectionist" is a euphemism for "control freak." Yuck.

Perfectionism is sin. It is thinking I know better than anyone else - including God - what is best. It is thinking I alone am capable of "doing it right". It is thinking that I MUST have control or the whole plane might go down in flames.

Perfectionism is idolatry. It is idolatry of Self. It is thinking other people need to check in with me first, instead of thinking that I need to check in with God. It is getting my feelings hurt when others don't want to do things my way. It is assuming that differing ideas and viewpoints are intentional attacks against me personally. It is taking my ball and going home if everyone doesn't agree to play my game, my way. It is sulking or mouthing off when I don't like the way things are going.

Perfectionism is deadly. It destroys family relationships and work relationships and ministry relationships. It strangles initiative - squeezes the life out of it until it is stone cold dead. It snuffs out creativity, squelches enthusiasm, and smothers joy -  both for the perfectionist, and for everyone in a five mile radius. It is taking the filthy rags of my own righteousness and twisting them into a hangman's noose in order to commit the double atrocity of murder-suicide.

God, save me.

Instead of squashing the people around me, Lord, let me be the person who encourages them to take initiative, to dare to try, to dream bold dreams; and let me not be afraid to give others the freedom to fail. Let me be the one to breathe deeply and smile when they try out their wings. Let me be the one to say "Great job!" when they succeed. Let me be the one to say enthusiastically "Good effort!" when they fail, and then encourage them to try again.

Please, Lord, don't let me communicate to the people around me that the only thing good enough is perfection, or my way, or whatever I think perfection is, because that is a lie. That is the Anti-Gospel. It is Ugly Self, not Beautiful Jesus.

Father, show me Jesus.

Reflect Jesus through me to others.

NEAR TO GOD

For on the one hand, a former commandment is set aside because of its weakness and uselessness (for the law made nothing perfect); but on the other hand, a better hope is introduced, through which we draw near to God. - Hebrews 7:18-19

We are working our way through Hebrews during Sunday morning worship at Grace. The above passage was in the section of Hebrews from which Brother Billy preached yesterday.

The "better hope" we are promised in this passage is in relation to access to God. When the first Adam disobeyed his Creator, he lost intimate access to God (the very thing for which Adam was created!) - lost access to God for himself and for his offspring. But the second Adam - Jesus - through his obedience, has provided access to God once more.

That thought - access to God, the nearness of God, intimate knowledge of God - that thought both encourages and terrifies me. On the one hand, I draw tremendous comfort and assurance from the knowledge that God is very close at hand. That He is near, present in the ups and downs of my life in this fallen world. God knows me intimately, knows my struggles, and He is ever present and ready to give me strength and guidance and comfort.

God is near, close at hand. That thought terrifies me. Whatever I do, where ever I go (in my mind, on-line, with my eyes or ears or heart), God is with me. He sees and hears and knows every detail of every circumstance of every moment of my life. He knows the inclinations of my heart.

So, we watched a couple of trashy movies at the Kendall house this weekend. Not only did these movies leave me feeling physically blechy, because I stayed up late to watch them, but they also made me feel mentally and emotionally blechy. Like I'd been eating poop.

I got to thinking this morning...if I get covered in the muck of this world because someone next to me is splashing around in it and flings it on me, that's one thing. If I get covered in muck because I inadvertently allow my mind to wander from what is pure and lovely to what is base and vile - sort of accidentally find myself back in the pigsty again, without having meant to go there - that is another thing.

But if I walk intentionally, deliberately, right into the sewer and start to bathe in its filth; if, when I perhaps feel some slight twinge of conscience, I defy such gentle nudgings by wallowing even deeper; if I walk into the sewer and lie down and bathe in it with the full knowledge that God is near, God is with me, and I am debasing not only myself but my holy Creator - that is something entirely different.

What? Do I think that I can make the Holy unclean?! That I can smear his vision so that He cannot see into the darkness of my heart?! That somehow I can make his righteous gaze less searing if I coat myself and my conscience with muck?!

God, forgive me! Make me ever mindful of the reality that not only did Christ make it possible for me to draw near to God, but He opened the door for God to draw near to me.

God, help me to live every moment with the consciousness that You are near. Cause that truth to shake me and break me and utterly transform me.

The door is open, Lord - please, come and make me new.

DEAR YOUNG MOTHER...

My youngest attended her first dual-enrollment class at UT Martin yesterday. Yes, she is definitely excited about taking a "real" college class, on an actual college campus, with a "real" college professor. This is my baby I'm talking about. When did she become so grown up?!

I have been occupied with the business of homeschooling my children for over twenty years now. When I pause to think about the women who have encouraged me during this journey, one in particular stands out. Not because she tipped me off to the perfect math or science curriculum. Not because all her children grew up to be rocket scientists and neurosurgeons. No, she stands out because she was honest with me about the tremendous labor of being a mom and homeschool teacher.

She admitted that there would be days of tears and attitude battles and physical exhaustion, days when I would be forced to admit that I was not equal to the task. Yes, there is a lot about homeschooling that is fun and wonderful, and I wouldn't trade this life for any other. But there are also days in this 24/7/365 job that can only be described as tastes of hell.

NEWSFLASH:  Homeschool Mother of Seven Ends Week-long Drinking Binge, Joins Mystic Guru's Ocean-side Meditation Compound After Overdosing on French Fries and Chocolate.

It could happen folks. Seriously.

Anyway, the friend I mentioned above - who has always been honest about the good, the bad, and the ugly of homeschooling - she has also always, consistently reminded me:  This is a good work. Persevere.

And, when I was able to sit regularly at her feet and glean from her wisdom, she also consistently pointed me to Jesus. "No, you are not adequate for the job. You need Jesus. Let's go to Him together..."

All of this to say, with my youngest now perched on the edge of the nest, fluttering her little wings, what advice would I offer the young mom coming along behind me?

First, I would reiterate Linda's counsel:  This is hard work, but it is good work. Persevere.

Second, give up the idea of perfection. God uses the weak and foolish things of this world to make known his power and glory. If you have it all together - if your house is clean and your family eats fresh-baked bread and eggs you gathered this morning for breakfast, if your kids have perfect handwriting and their clothes actually match, if you have an entire school year's worth of math lessons organized into Zip-loc baggies with appropriate manipulatives and worksheets before the first day of August, if all of next month's nutritious, organic meals are already tucked away in your freezer, if you organize the church nursery and lead the women's Bible study and teach Zumba three nights a week and do it all with a lilt in your voice and a spring in your step - well, you probably don't need Jesus. And if you don't need Jesus, how on earth are your kids going to learn by watching you just how very faithful and good He is to broken, messed up people?

If you insist on maintaining the delusion of perfection, you are going to end up teaching your kids a lie ["I am adequate"] - OR - you are going to crack and end up in an ocean-side commune with Mr. Mystic. Which is also a lie. Either way, if you insist on perfection, you are living a lie.

Let.

It.

Go.

Trust God with your children's souls. This seems obvious, but can be tricky in practice. Satan's lies are so subtle! Compromise is so natural! It is easy to slip into wrong thinking, easy to begin to believe the lie that homeschooling will save your children. Or dressing a certain way. Or not reading certain books. Or not listening to that music. Or whatever. And then you slip into the lie of believing that YOU must save your children's souls - did you choose the right curriculum? the right youth program? the right homeschool group?

But the truth is:  You cannot save your children's souls. Trust me. The good news is:  God can. Trust Him. Rest in the Gospel. Breathe it in deeply (more deeply, deeper, keep inhaling...), and then sneeze it and drool it and splatter it out all over your kids.

Pray.

Believe the Gospel.

Trust God with your children's souls.

Celebrate differences. Celebrate the unusual, and, yes, even the annoying.

Personal confession:  I am a Type-A person. Straight A's all the way through high school and college. I like organized closets and vacuum-cleaner strokes on carpet. Ketchup is for French fries, not for fried chicken, and ranch dressing is for salad, not pizza.

I am not a big fan of clutter, raw fish, loud rock music, hippies, pink hair, ghost peppers, un-ironed dress shirts, or tattoos.

Well, I didn't use to be a fan, not back in the days before Reuben started painting, and Martha came back from Japan and made home-made sushi, and Tom introduced me to "Back in Black," and Emily went all raspberry, and I had to admit that, yes, the Sharpie-marker sleeve tattoos were actually pretty cool, and I learned that car dancing with Helen to American Authors was a great mood booster, and...

Wouldn't this world be a dreary, boring, terrible place if everyone in it was preoccupied with wearing matching socks and making tidy vacuum cleaner stokes in carpet?!!!

What is it about your kids that annoys you? I'm not talking sin - I'm talking personality differences, personal preferences, personal expression. Instead of getting annoyed, take a deep breath and endeavor to listen, taste, see, engage, dance.

Personal confession:  This will probably involve some embarrassment on your part. It did for me. Your kids will embarrass you. And, as you enter their worlds, you will embarrass yourself. But the embarrassment only stings for a little bit, sort of like when you peel off a crusty, hardened scab to reveal the healthy new pink skin underneath.

Don't be afraid of the different, the unusual, the eccentric, the annoying. I've learned that there is a great big beautiful world outside of my little white picket fence, and God is doing great big beautiful things out there in it.

* * * * *

Okay, there is actually lots more advice I could offer a young mom, but I've been thinking and typing and rewriting for over an hour and my brain is beginning to turn into goo. It just happens.

I need to go make lunch, check Helen's math, and reply to some emails.

Life awaits!

(READER:  What advice would YOU like to share?)

ENOUGH

It is a difficult thing as a mom - at least it has been for me - to rest.

There is always something else that needs my energy and attention. Laundry, meal preparation, dirty floors, lessons to prepare, school work to grade, flowerbeds to weed, clothes to sort and put back in the attic or tote to Goodwill, cookies to bake, crafts to make, messes to clean...

No matter how much I do, no matter how many hours a day I commit to this mom job, I always - always - go to bed thinking of so much that is still undone and all that will need to be done again tomorrow.

It is the hardest thing in the world, as a mom, to rest.

If you resolve to rest - to just take a break from the never-ending list of still-needs-to-be-done  - all those undone things sit right there in front of you, pleading for your attention like small children standing in line at the mechanical pony ride in front of Kroger:  "Mom! Mom! It's my turn!"

And while you are trying to rest, trying really hard, you feel guilty. And you feel the pressure of the river of work piling up behind the logjam of your "I just need a couple of minutes to myself!" As you try to rest, to catch your breath, the Mountain of Undone simply continues to grow bigger and bigger right before your eyes.

As a mom, you want to meet your family's needs. Your family expects you to meet their needs - that's what moms do, right? You expect yourself to meet those needs, even if you feel like you simply cannot possibly think of one more creative, economical dinner menu.

It is the hardest thing in the world for Mom to rest.

It is the hardest thing in the world to say "Enough. I can do no more."

Enough? Maybe I'm just being a slacker. Enough? Maybe I'm just being selfish. Enough? Well, if I don't do-this-one-more-thing, who will? It still has to be done!

It is hard to say "Enough" and not feel guilty. Hard to say "Enough" and truly rest. Hard to say "Enough" and believe in your heart-of-hearts that "enough" really is okay.

At least it's hard for this mom, saying "Enough" and believing it.

THINGS I LEARNED FROM MY FIRST COLONOSCOPY

So, I had my first ever colonoscopy this week. One of the perks of turning 50.

Actually, I was supposed to take care of this last year, but I chickened out and cancelled my appointment. Last month at my annual check up, my regular doctor chastised me for bailing. She scheduled another appointment with the gastroenterologist this year, and then told me sternly to get it done.

In honor of my amazing brother, the procedure was scheduled on his birthday...sort of a celebration of our both getting another year older.

Without going into any graphic or nauseating details, here are a few things I learned leading up to and going through the procedure:

I eat a lot and I often eat without thinking. Okay, for the past year, I have been very deliberate (for the most part) about eating less. What I have not been aware of is the number of random bites I consume during a day. The last bit of cheesy scrambled eggs left in the skillet after cooking breakfast for the kids. A spoonful of Spanish rice when packing leftovers into a storage container. A couple of potato chips while packing lunch for Helen. Having been instructed to eat NO solid food whatsoever, I was suddenly aware that my hand moved reflexively toward my mouth with amazing frequency.

I am a rebel at heart. So, Day 1 of the prep program, I was instructed to eat no raw fruits or vegetables, no red foods, and nothing containing nuts or seeds. My favorite breakfast in the world is a toasted whole grain English muffin spread generously with crunchy peanut butter. My favorite lunch at the moment is a fresh tomato sandwich. No garden-fresh tomatoes?! No crunchy peanut butter?! Those were the ONLY things I wanted, all day long. Inside my head, I was growling like a grumpy cat all day long.

Water is the elixir of life. On my regular doctor's advice, I drink a lot of water each day. A LOT of water, usually a gallon before noon. Amazingly, this "therapy" has eliminated the terrible migraines I used to battle regularly. Day 3 of the colonoscopy process:  no water. Only that nasty, super-sour Intestinal Drano. I felt parched and found myself saying "Hello" to a headache. When the going got tough, I didn't crave diet-Coke, coffee, merlot, or Corona - nope, I was desperate for some life-giving water.

I am very thankful for modern plumbing. How many other ordinary, seemingly-insignificant things do I take for granted in a given day?

A sense of humor is a good thing to have. "The last time you had a bowel movement, what color was it?" asked the nurse processing my admission paperwork. "Ummmm, brown?" I guessed. "Well, was it a dark brown, or a paler mocha color, or was it more of a light tan?" Let me tell you, folks, when you are dehydrated and hallucinating about crunchy peanut butter, there is nothing like an earnest conversation about the color of poop to make you realize that life is often very, very ridiculous.

I think I'm in love with the anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist lifted my arm and examined my wristband. "Name?" he asked. "Camille Kendall," I answered. "Date of birth?" Next thing I knew, I was waking up from the best sleep I've had in years. Years. Forget the crunchy peanut butter. Never mind dehydration. Forget the pitchers of nastynastynasty stuff I had to drink. It was all worth it for those few minutes of incredibly sound, restful sleep. I woke up feeling like Super Woman (sans cleavage).

There sure are a lot of nice people in the world. When it seems like your whole life is going down the pipes, when you are fighting back tears because you feel weak and tired and you just don't think you can swallow one more galling mouthful of nastiness, it's amazing how God puts someone sweet, kind, and gracious in your path. I can't say enough good about Dr. Nuako and the incredible staff at Summit Endoscopy Center in Union City, Tennessee. You guys are wonderful.

Oh, and David - you are pretty terrific, too. Happy Birthday!

HYPOTHETICAL SITUATION

Hypothetical situation:

Dad volunteers to fly solo at home with the kids so that Mom can enjoy a much-needed rest from the demands of motherhood. As Mom leaves to spend two stress-free days relaxing with her best momfriends at a cabin on the lake, or for a weekend women's retreat with the ladies from her church, Dad assures his wife, "I've got this, Baby. Don't worry about a thing. Just relax and have fun. Enjoy yourself!" With one toddler on his hip and three-year-old wrapped around his leg, Dad smiles as he waves goodbye from the driveway.

And then...

The party starts.

Back-to-back movies and non-stop video games. Forget chores: laundry and vacuuming and dirty dishes can wait until Monday. Getting the kids down for naps is impossible...we'll all just sleep late tomorrow morning. Lucky Charms for breakfast, McDonald's for lunch, and frozen pizza for supper. Plus, a late night run for ice cream, just because this is kind of a holiday, right?, and Dad is cool like that. Besides, we're all sleeping in late tomorrow, so what difference does it make what time the kids come down off their sugar high and finally get into bed?

And so Mom rolls back into the driveway Sunday evening, refreshed from a restful weekend, and is greeted by...

A houseful of tired, nasty, strung out, over-sugared, fussy kids, an overflowing laundry basket, Doritos crumbs stomped into the living room carpet, and the awesome-est Dad in the universe.

Mom's relaxed muscles beginning contracting into steel cables down her neck and across her shoulders.

She smiles and hugs the kids. Re-entry - Monday morning - is going to be hell.

Oh, well. The holiday was nice while it lasted!

* * * * *

Hypothetical situation:

Mom volunteers to hold down the office so that Dad can enjoy a long-anticipated fishing trip with his buddies. "Don't worry about a thing, Baby...I've got this!" she assures her husband as he loads rods&reels, tackle boxes, and a cooler into the bed of his pickup. "Have fun and enjoy your trip!"

And then...

The party starts.

Mom hauls all the kids into the office so she can keep an eye on everyone while she answers the phone, checks emails, schedules appointments for next week, and invoices customers. She lets the toddler redecorate Dad's work area while the 4-year-old depletes all of the dry-erase markers on the filing cabinets. Forget checking emails and scheduling appointments - funny cat videos on YouTube are so much more entertaining!

Mom orders Chinese, delivered, because the kids need to eat some vegetables and because fortune cookies and chopsticks make lunch feel like a holiday, right? Mom is cool like that. Never mind that Billy slings lo-mein noodles into the fax machine and Jane squirts soy sauce on the computer keyboard.

Mom and the kids stop at Cracker Barrel for dinner on the way home (don't worry about the weekly grocery budget) because they serve vegetables - and kids need vegetables - and because one parent shouldn't have to cook if the other parent is out of town, right? Forget washing and ironing Dad's shirts and khakis for next week - Mom is exhausted after a day at the office, and, anyway, this is a sort of a holiday. Right?

And so, wearing a rumpled shirt and last Friday's not-too-terribly-dirty khakis, Dad sits down to work Monday morning to a sticky keyboard and a jammed fax machine. When he tries to check email, he discovers that his internet tabs have been reset to Pinterest, FaceBook, and sites for flash-mobs and baby hedgehogs. And he can't find the stapler, the hole puncher, or the answering machine, anywhere.

Oh, well. The holiday was nice while it lasted!

* * * * *

It happened again last week. I saw a dad out with his kids, and when I asked him how he was doing, he answered, "It's a little bit crazy at our house right now...sort of a weekend long party! I'm babysitting this weekend so Sally can enjoy a couple of days of rest."

"No," I replied, "you are not babysitting. You are the dad:  it's called parenting."

What I really wanted to say was, "It's called parenting, Dad, and it's your job. Yes, it's hard work. Are you leaning into the harness this weekend so that Sally's rest isn't undone her first day home, or are you just skating by until Sally gets home to clean up behind you?"

Kids don't take time off from being kids just because Mom or Dad needs a break. Whether at home or at the office, parenting children is a 24-hour-a-day, 7-days-a-week kind of job.

Are you ready for Active Duty?