A room at the zoo

Last week, in a conversation with Paul, Dorris was convinced that she had a room at the zoo.

No, she wasn't speaking metaphorically. She actually thought she was living at the zoo. 

She was so convinced of her new living arrangement that she was able to persuade another resident they were both at the zoo. Not only that, Dorris was trying to find her way back to where the tour began so her friend could be escorted out of the building since she obviously did not have the authority to be there.

The next time she spoke with Paul, she was just as certain that she had a room at the library. Her most recent phone call to our daughter Anne, insisted she was living at a bowling alley.

Rest assured, the facility in which she lives is quite calm. Other than the large birdcage, it in no way resembles a zoo, a library, or a bowling alley. 

These episodes of surreal living arrangements occur right after a late afternoon nap. For this reason, I think she is carrying over her dreams to explain her confusion about her living situation. It is not unusual for her to recognize her furniture but still think her room is not hers. A vivid dream may be serving as an explanation for surroundings that confuse her.

Our brains are built to hunt out confusion and find an answer for it. Dorris's brain does not have enough accumulated memories to recognize her room as her home. Her brain is used to having memories associated with surroundings, so not having them creates confusion. The only answer, to that confusion, is that she is living somewhere that is less familiar. I suspect a dream about a zoo, library, or bowling alley gets dragged into the current perception. To a brain, that cannot reconcile its own changes, a room at the zoo seems logical.

What surprises me is the persistence of this reality. It takes some doing to convince her that she is home, safe, and not responsible for anyone else. The mixture of dream, logic, and the lack of persistent memories is difficult to fight. I listen to Paul talking to her on the phone and I can hear him gently reassuring her, over and over, until I can imagine her voice, on the other end of the line, calming down. Because her ability to make memories is impaired, that dream that felt so real, becomes adamant. In her mind, it is real. 

Sometimes a quick visit is what it takes to calm her down and reassure her she is home. We are grateful that we are close enough that we can do this for her. I admit that I wonder, and worry, about what we will do when the time comes when this is not enough. It is difficult when her brain can't make sense out of reality; what will she have left when our presence, our words, and our hugs can no longer make sense out of reality for her?

She's lost so much: her husband, her house, the town she loves, her garden, her car, and so many memories. It is hard to see her lose her sense of well-being, too. Her world forces me to trust that while her memory and cognition fades, her faith remains.

I wonder what God thinks when He watches His people create a different reality. What does He think when we turn from His blessings only to create a life of pain and misery?

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,  and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes;
fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. Proverbs 3:5-7 ESV

This verse is one of my favorites about trust. I uphold that the first eight words are easy, but the second eight are impossible. I cannot, I will not, let go of my own understanding. Leaning on myself prevents me from acknowledging Him. This twisted reality that I create, persists. This stubborn persistence destroys proper trust. My reality, my world, my perception, remains distorted. 

Let's look at some examples.

What about when my hard work creates a false reality regarding my success? It is not only a false reality, but also a false humility for me to think that I have earned anything that I have: money, job, accomplishments, talents, etc. I am so quick to take credit for success and equally quick to deny responsibility for failure. This false humility is akin to the prayer of the Pharisee: “God, I thank you that I am not like this __________ (poor person on welfare, single mother on food stamps, high school dropout, stressed parent, or struggling believer). 

In my distorted reality, I am better than that. In truth, I am nothing without God.

Or, we could flip the coin and talk about a different sort of false reality: the hollow humility that comes from putting myself down. “No, I can’t do what you ask; I am not good enough.” This lack of trust leans on my own ability (or lack of ability) rather than trusting that God will provide the needed skills. It is not a false humility that brags; it is a false humility that insults God.

True humility is not about me; true humility trusts God.

My most common, my most persistent, alternative reality is the false belief that I am in control. This false reality is responsible for all of my fears and anxieties. My brain sees a problem and wants to find a solution from within its memory cells. I can’t solve the problem, or prevent the bad outcome, so fear of failure results. This fear is a persistent fear. “I won’t be able to do this.” “I am not good enough.” “Things will fall apart because I will fail.” “The worst will happen.”

I might as well move to a room at the zoo, or the library, or the bowling alley. It really does not matter, does it? If my reality does not put complete trust in God, if I persist in leaning on my own understanding, I might as well create a bizarre, unexplainable, alternative reality and call it home. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,  and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes;
fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. Proverbs 3:5-7 ESV

Dear God, take me away from this zoo! Tuck me into Your heart. Replace my distorted understanding with Your wisdom. Make my path straight and let it lead to You.

Amen, amen, amen.

Sweet words

Few things surpass the cute factor found in a mass of young children making their best sour face. I think there is a super bowl commercial in there somewhere.

I am blessed to be able to give the children’s message for church several times a month. I don’t normally see a reason to wear a GoPro camera on my head for such a task, but this week it would have been worth it. We started out talking about faces we make when we eat things that are sour, sweet, or bitter. Of course, we had to practice those faces.

After we practiced, we used our faces to decide how orange pop or tonic water would taste. I assured the children they did not have to taste tonic water to know it is bitter. We have a face app for that.

“. . . but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water?  James 3: 8-11 ESV

The point of the face making, and the pop, and the tonic water, was to understand that sweet words bring joy and bitter words create resentment. Just as we have come to expect sweetness every time we pour a glass of pop, the people with whom we interact should not experience bitterness because of our words. Once a drink is bitter it will not return to sweetness. Our bitter words can sour a relationship. Our bitter words speak poorly of our faith. Our bitter words speak volumes about our love and respect for God. These words are hard to erase, once spoken (or posted).

To finish my message I asked the children if there was anything they could say that could cause their mother or father to stop loving them? Their faces were solemn at the thought, but confident in the expression of “no.” It is wonderful, and powerful, to know that God loves us, no matter what. There is nothing we can say that would make Him stop loving us; there is nothing we can say that could make Him love us more.

God’s love is sweet, sweet all the time.

When I am angry, afraid, or disgusted and my thoughts begin to form words of bitterness, it becomes a challenge to remember that the unconditional love of my Father extends also to the person who has stirred the bitterness in my heart.

If at the point at which I post those snarky, contemptuous comments, or at the point at which I am about to lash out in verbal anger; if at that point I could remember that God loves this person, too, then how could I spew bitterness?

The person who has made me angry, the one who has treated me poorly, the Facebook friend who has insulted me, or the employer who has disrespected my abilities, each of these people is loved by my Heavenly Father. Neither my anger nor my contempt can change that love. While it is often right to let people know when I have been hurt; it is never right for me to express bitterness, insults, sarcasm or contempt. Moreover, if I need to correct my brother or sister, I am instructed to do so in love.

My words are to be sweet, sweet all the time.

This is an easy teaching for a children’s message; a teaching that inspires head nodding during a sermon. It is a prayer that begs to be repeated in the heart and mind, but impossible to produce in the cold, hard light of experience. Suddenly the mouth that praised God on Sunday, the heart that prayed at bedtime, the face that hours ago was lifted up to God in gratitude for His unfailing love, becomes the weapon of choice for expressing anger – righteous or not. My face, my heart, my words are so quick to turn bitter.

My words are to be sweet, sweet all the time.

Good thing I don’t have to do this on my own.

Lord God, fill my heart and mind with gratitude for your exceeding, constant, and patient love. May Your love melt my bitterness and inspire my words.

Healing pain

When I first tried my arm after the removal of the cast I was shaken by the amount of pain involved in even the slightest movement.  A sharp, stabbing pain accompanied any change in position and I could not see how I was going to be able to stretch and re-activate muscles that had been immobilized for five weeks. 

I hate to admit it, but I cried like a baby.  I allowed myself the rest of that day to cry with a promise that tears would not be tolerated come the morning.  A strong sense of fear accompanied each stabbing pain.  I even danced with the idea of putting my cast-less arm back in the sling.   Writing this, now, I cannot quite believe it: I wanted to return to the hated sling! 

That is what fear of pain will do to you; it sends you back to what you thought you wanted to escape. 

A good friend, who understands this kind of pain, gave me a good talking to.  Another friend, who knows how to work with people to heal from injury, gave me a good pep talk.  Through their kind and gentle words, God helped me to identify the difference between injury pain and healing pain. 

Our emotions are a gift from God.  Many of us would prefer the Mr. Spock demeanor where we make all decisions logically and rationally.  However, this is not possible, nor is it desirable.  Our emotions help us to evaluate situations, to make decisions and to encode and retrieve memories.   We would be lost without emotions. 

 

When I fell and saw that my arm had some new lumps and bumps my brain immediately connected the pain I felt with fear.  This was a healthy thing as my fear gave me the incentive to take action and to allow medical personnel to do what was needed.  Later, that same fear gave me strong reason to see the specialist and to agree to surgery.  I know I now have a better chance of full recovery, but if I had not taken action, the results would have been devastating. 

 

The fear I experienced with my pain still lives in my memories.  Hopefully, this fear will keep me from trying, again, to carry too many groceries.  It also encourages me to have more empathy when I accompany relatives with compromised walking skills.  Perhaps someday this fear will help me listen to my son and daughter when they have to have a conversation with me about where I live, or whether I should drive, or why I need to follow doctor’s orders regarding the walker.  Some measure of fear with always be connected to this pain and that is probably a good thing.

Fear is a powerful motivator but, it does not always motivate in a good direction.

Sometimes pain is a sign of healing.  When pain starts with injury it is difficult to break the connection between fear and pain.  Now that my bones are on the mend, fear connected to pain is no longer adaptive.  It only serves to discourage me from doing what is needed to complete the healing.   I needed to hear my friend tell me that pain was a necessary part of regaining motion and that it would gradually get better.  I needed to hear my other friend tell me that while moving my arm would cause pain, it would not cause further injury.  In relating these gems of wisdom, my friends were a gift from God.

Once fear is disconnected from the pain in my wrist I can be bolder about trying new things, about stretching, and about completing rounds of exercises.  I will not be happy about it, but I will reap the benefits of moving. 

 

Now I go to my physical therapy sessions, do my work and then this little piggy cries “owie, owie, owie!” all the way home.  When I repeat the exercises throughout the week I know to expect pain – but I no longer fear it.  I dread it and I curse it, but I no longer fear it.

I am pretty risk averse so I don’t fall often, but there is something else that causes me fear.  When my words or actions hurt someone, I feel fear.  My conscience kicks in and my stomach ties up in a knot of pain and guilt.  This is a good, God-given, pain because it will not be ignored, it brings me to repentance, it stirs me to action.  Sometimes my sinful nature allows me to work around the pain and ignore it.  Often, God works in me to deal with that knot in my stomach and to realize I must apologize and atone for my sin.

That brings me to a new pain: the pain of admitting that I am wrong, that I have done wrong, and that I have hurt someone I love.  I do not like that pain any more than I like the pain of guilt.  There is fear connected to this pain, also.  Nevertheless, here again is the need to disconnect fear from pain so I can do what I need to do in order to heal. 

 

I have to squeeze the putty and lift the weights even though my wrist screams for me to stop I know I must continue.  Likewise, I have to admit to my sin, apologize, and make amends even though my selfish heart would have me walk away. Only God can bring me to repentance, but my fear of embarrassment and discomfort can prevent me from following God. 

Repentance and forgiveness bring healing to many kinds of pain.  Sometimes we need first to pray that God would take away our fear.  He is happy to do this, and He has so much to teach us in the process.

I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin.  Psalm 32:5 ESV

“Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near;  let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.  Isaiah 55:6-7 ESV

As it is, I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting.  For you felt a godly grief, so that you suffered no loss through us.  For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.   II Corinthians 7:9-10 ESV

The reason behind Christian compassion

My mother-in-law’s memory loss continues to deteriorate.  When we converse we seem to spin in ever a smaller circles.  Our conversations used to contain several topics that popped up again and again.  Now the conversation tends to orbit around one topic, often our current location.   

The other day our conversation went like this:

Dorris: Where do I live?

Me: You live at the Arbors.

Dorris: Where are we?

Me: We are in Lincoln.

Dorris: Do you live in Lincoln?

Me: Yes, we all live in Lincoln.

 

Dorris: Where do I live?

Me: You live in Lincoln.

Dorris: Oh, Kim, this scares me.

Me: It scares me too, but I know you are safe.  

Showing compassion sounds like an easy thing, but may in fact, be more complicated than we think.  There are several ways to respond to Dorris.  I could recognize her fear, and fight it:

“Oh, Dorris, don’t worry.  I know where we are.  Leave it up to me.”

Or, I could flee from it:

“Dorris what do you have to worry about?  Your life is easy.  Someone is always there to tell you what to do.”

Perhaps, I could try to experience her fear for her:

“ I know what you mean.  I’ve felt lost before, too.”

The worst response would be to lose patience with her or to ignore her.  This would give her the message that she doesn’t deserve compassion.  I must admit that around about the tenth time in an hour when we have this conversation, this type of response is all too tempting.

The best response of compassion requires empathy.  It is a challenge to empathize with a person who is losing her memory.  How can I know what it feels like to lose words within seconds of hearing them?  How can I know what it feels like to have nothing be familiar?  Or what it feels like to be unsure of everything?  How can I know what to say that will bring comfort?  Even if I find that comfort, it will last for only seconds.  My response to Dorris is never quite right, it is never enough. I must trust the love of God to cover my feeble responses with His perfect compassion.

If it is a challenge for me to be patient with someone I love, imagine how hard it is to show compassion to someone I don’t know.  To show compassion to someone who is different from me.  To show compassion to someone who does not inspire compassion because perhaps, he has not earned it.

Lately, among political pundits and in social media, I had seen increasing evidence of this kind of conditional compassion.  When we begin to think compassion is only for those who are suffering due to circumstances beyond their control, we give ourselves permission to ignore the sufferings of those who bear some responsibility for their condition.  Perhaps those who spent their money unwisely, did not pursue education that would give them a high paying job, chose to live in a dangerous area, or haven’t managed to find a job that gives them health insurance.  It is easy to tell ourselves that such compassion is not only undeserved, but is potentially harmful. 

Since when do any of us earn compassion?  I may earn my own money for food, although just barely at the moment, but I have never earned the compassion of my Savior.  If God waited for us to earn compassion, then once we did earn it, we would no longer need it.  In fact, if we could earn compassion through righteousness and careful decision-making, we would not even need God. Our faith is built on the truth that we cannot earn compassion, but never-the-less it is given freely.

Compassion is never earned, it is always given out of unconditional love.  Compassion does not mean there is no punishment for wrongdoing, no consequence for poor decisions, and it doesn’t guarantee rescue.  In our relationship with God compassion is always present.  Compassion must be present or there would be no relationship, there would be no life.

We are expected to forgive each other because God forgives us.  We are expected to love each other because God loves us.  Likewise, we are expected to show compassion, unconditionally, because we receive such compassion from Him.  While compassion sometimes involves rescue, it is separate from that act.  Compassion is empathy.  Compassion is love.  Compassion is making ourselves equal with others because we recognize we also do not deserve the compassion we receive.   

We do not have to all endorsed the same political solutions in order to show compassion.  We just need to remember where compassion originates and practice it.

In my own life, when I have been confronted with my lack of compassion, I have been forced to wonder if compassion was replaced by my fear.  Sometimes I don’t want to get involved.  Sometimes I want to convince myself that what I have done has earned me my life.  This fear too easily replaces compassion with contempt.  If I want to give others only what they have earned then contempt is where I want to be.  However, I most certainly do not want the contempt I deserve from my fellow man or my Heavenly Father. There is no love, or life, found in contempt.

Just as God is the only one who can show true compassion, He is the only one who can give us the courage to be compassionate.  He can, and does, take away our fear and our contempt.  He mercifully replaces that fear and contempt with a desire and ability to show compassion.  We are blessed when we show compassion.  We are blessed with empathy and understanding and we are blessed to use our faith.  Most importantly, we are blessed by God’s compassion for us.

Our world is a complicated confusing place.  Scripture does not give us political solutions, it does not give us simple answers, but it does give us direction, and hope, and faith. God shows me compassion day after day. He shows me compassion even when I cannot comprehend the world as He does. He shows me compassion even when I forget it seconds after I have been blessed. His love always holds me as His precious child.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. Lamentations 3: 22-26 ESV

We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. Romans 15:1-2 ESV

Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself. Galatians 6: 1-3 ESV