Yearly Archives: 2012

Life Wisdom

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Mentoring programs are big nowadays, but they’ve existed since ancient times. Elijah mentored Elisha. Moses mentored Joshua. Naomi mentored Ruth. Paul mentored Timothy. And of course Jesus mentored his 12 disciples.

I’ve had several impactful mentors through the years, my parents among them. But the one who walked me through my youthful immaturities and stuck with me until she died at 92 was Aunt Joyce (married to my Dad’s brother). She let me live with her family three different summers in the 1960’s, gently counseling, instructing, and (yes) chiding me as needed.

My respect for her grew as I aged and took on more common characteristics with her: marriage, motherhood, and other adult ups and downs. Aunt Joyce never preached. Instead she coaxed me into new ways of thinking for myself. She shared examples from her own life and was careful to include failures as well as successes. The fact that she would disclose her personal struggles to me always felt like a gift.

Aunt Joyce never labeled herself as a mentor, and it wasn’t until we’d been “working together” for years that I realized I was her mentoree. She had others, too, and in her later years complete strangers approached her through church contacts, requesting mentoring. She never turned them away and viewed each relationship as a holy privilege.

One of the reasons Aunt Joyce was an effective tutor was that she never said, “You should… do this or that.” Instead she’d say, “Here’s something you might want to try,” or “I found this approach worked for me in similar circumstances.” She made it seem like the two of us were in it together, a team, even equal at times, though I was always the one getting the benefits. But if my steady stream of questions and needs drained her, she never let on.

Of course the ultimate mentor is God, and he’s willing to partner with any of us desiring to be his mentorees. As with all good mentors, though, he leaves it up to us to take advantage of it.

Adam and Eve had it made with their daily mentoring sessions in the cool of each Eden evening. But despite their Mentor’s flawless guidance, they only agreed with 90% of it. The 10% they tossed aside made a radical difference in their quality of life. We can contradict what our mentors tell us, ignore their counsel, or follow their advice and watch our lives change for the better.

Aunt Joyce lived a long, fruitful life and was a valuable mentor for one reason: her advice was always right-on. That’s because it came down to her from her own mentor, God. Since he was her foundational source, she could give an opinion with confidence.

I tried to follow her example in lots of ways, but the one she most hoped I would emulate was looking to God as the ultimate Mentor… exactly like she did.

“One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.” (Psalm 145:4)

Camaraderie over a Cross

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Yesterday while at Walmart, I was on my way to the check-out through the seasonal aisle when something made me stop. Though the shelves were loaded with flags, red-white-and-blue merchandise, ice chests on wheels, and patriotic novelties, at the end stood a woman inspecting something that wasn’t festive at all: a wooden cross decorated with silk flowers.

Memorial Day had just passed, and the crosses had all been marked down for quick sale. But what did they have to do with Memorial Day?

When I was growing up, the name most frequently used for this holiday was Decoration Day. Families made time for a trip to the cemetery before the last Monday of the month, putting flowers, crosses, or flags on their family graves. Picnicking would come on that Monday, but serious thoughts of loved ones who’d already died came ahead of that.

The Walmart cross display let me know there were still people who followed the grave-decorating tradition, and apparently I was standing down the aisle from one of them. A woman studied the crosses, and I studied her, wondering what was going through her head. She picked one up, gently running her hand across the artificial white flowers.

Who had she buried? And how long ago? Was her heart still hurting as she held the cross? More importantly, did she have a relationship with God? Did she know he had gained victory over death?

As rambunctious kids a few feet from us begged their mothers to buy fireworks, I thought about how serious life becomes after death hits a family. When we were children, we didn’t think about death until a grandpa or great auntie died. Then we watched adults struggle with tears and became aware that death was a big deal, something unusual, unpleasant, and severe.

But of course it doesn’t have to be. In my prayer group this morning, one of the ladies asked the Lord to “take” a woman on our list who was in physical pain and a slow decline. If death was only unpleasant and severe, we couldn’t have justified praying like that. But because our friend was sure of her heavenly destination, asking God for her death was a way to bless her life.

As I stood and watched a stranger struggle over what to do with a Walmart cross, I felt a certain camaraderie with her. I, too, often thought of several important family graves. Eventually the woman gently put the cross back in its place on the shelf and then covered her mouth with her hand, an outward sign of inward turmoil.

In the end, she just walked away.

I hoped she knew about the cross, the one on Calvary, where Jesus’ blasted the power of death like a flame explodes a firecracker. Boom! Gone! Calvary’s cross had no decorative flowers, but what happened there is the one and only reason we could sincerely pray for our dying friend, “Lord, please take her.”

“He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification.” (Romans 4:25)

WALK IN. GET WELL.

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Recently I passed a medical center with an intriguing sign:

BELLVIEW URGENT CARE.

WALK IN. GET WELL.

I guess if you can WALK IN, maybe you can actually GET WELL. Those who are truly ill probably wouldn’t be walking in to that particular facility anyway, although sometimes a minor obvious problem can lead to a greater hidden one.

And that’s the thing about a human body. There’s much that can go wrong. Any of us, if put through a full array of testing, would surely learn something was amiss, despite not feeling any symptoms. But most of us would shun that kind of scrutiny. A more common approach to medicine that works most of the time is to assume good health until a pain forces us to the doctor. As they say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

So often I think of the tiny baby-body growing within Birgitta. Every day I wonder what remarkable things are taking place in that dark, hidden place.

And thanks to the internet, we can find out. During this week, her 20th, our baby’s brain is refining her 5 senses, developing the nerve cells that serve taste, smell, hearing, sight, and touch. That means our mini-human is beginning to recognize Birgitta’s voice as well as other repeated sounds occurring outside the womb. She might even “jump” in response to a loud noise.

Also this week, paper-thin, miniscule fingernails and toenails are visible, and the soft body hair of a newborn has started to appear. Although Birgitta’s baby measures only 10” from tip to toe and weighs less than one pound, if she was born today, it’s very possible she would survive.

Recently Birgitta and I were studying an anatomy book, marveling at the variety and number of organs that have been squeezed into each one of our mid-sections. In the unborn, all the same systems are in place in them as in us, except they’re still in miniature. How everything can work out as well as it does, as often as it does, is a wonder. This baby is basically “done” even though Birgitta is only at the half way point in her pregnancy. Now all her tiny daughter has to do is grow.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

This reminds me of the new birth we find in salvation. As we come into God’s family by way of recognizing our need for a Savior (whose name is Jesus), all the necessary parts of our new life in Christ have been put into place. Beyond that, all we have to do is grow. It’s as much of a miracle as Birgitta’s baby is.

There’s just one big difference. It takes 9 months to make a baby. Getting saved is much quicker:

“HE WALKS IN. WE GET WELL.”

“I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in.” (Revelation 3:20)