Last Monday, I dropped off the last students from the Hometown Workshop at the airport, got back in my car and then proceeded to cry for a good 20 minutes because:
1. I was freaking exhausted.
2. I knew that it was the last Hometown Workshop I was ever going to teach. (These workshops have created what has probably been some of my most life-changing experiences, but the amount of preparation and the expenses involved are just too much to keep them going.)
3. In addition to catching Whooping Cough, I also had a new online workshop that began that same day and still had to pack up and move all of my stuff from the Hanna House back to my own house. (I rent an old house, store most of the contents from that house in the owners garage and then I move a large percentage of the contents of my own home into that rental house for the workshops - so much stuff that my voice actually echos in my own empty house and my children sleep in sleeping bags and have nothing to sit on for several weeks at a time.)
4. I couldn't get out of my head the way one of my students laughed, the way one of them hugged me when she left, the way one of them told stories, the gift that one of them gave me, the note that one of them had written me, the funny crap one of them said, how excited one of them got when she finally nailed the shot she was trying to get, the reassuring way one of them looked at me anytime she noticed me getting stressed out, the honesty one of them shared on our last night together, the way one of them struggled with saying goodbye, the way one of them shared how skeptical she had been prior to the workshop, the way one of them was my favorite kind of smart-ass, the way one of them laughed and hugged me when I slapped her on the back (much harder than I had planned) after seeing how perfect her exposure was, the way one of their eyes welled up when I was telling that story about Ferndale, the way one of them always had the wittiest comebacks, the way one of them realized for the first time just how beautiful she really is, the way one of them finally let her guard down...the way they all made me feel.
5. I felt like I had hardly seen my kids in weeks and was missing the crap out of them.
6. I was really freaking exhuasted.
7. There had been several times during the workshop when God had done something so personal and so meaningful and so specific that I knew without a doubt it was His work.
8. I felt changed (for the better) because of the women that attended.
9. Josh Downs and I had been intermittedly cranky with each other for weeks (because stress and busyness always seems to take a toll on our marriage) and I was feeling horrible about it.
10. All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed with Netflix for a few days (or maybe a few weeks) but I knew I had to unpack all of this...
Ironically though, I've been talking to my kids a lot lately about perspective and how they can choose to see whatever they train their eyes to see.
I had listened to this sermon and from it, had decided to ask each of my kids at different times to look out the window of the car while we were driving and to tell me what they saw. They'd say things like, "I see trees, cars, buildings, mountains, clouds, stop signs, etc." and then I'd ask them, "What about the windshield, did you even see the windshield?"
And then I'd go onto explain to them that they didn't see the windshield because they'd trained their eyes to see past the windshield and to see what was beyond the windshield instead.
It's like Ephesians 4:8, "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think on such things.
We all have a choice each and every day.
Sometimes that choice is a hard one to make and sometimes it's not just a daily choice we have to make, but a minute-by-minute choice, but even so, we have a choice to train our minds to see:
- the lies we have chosen to believe about ourselves and others or what is true.
- the discraceful things we've done or the noble esteem God holds us in.
- the things that are invalid, unfair and unhealthy in the world or what is right in the world.
- what is indescent, polluted and tainted or what is pure. (If you are feeling wowed by my great vocabulary right now, don't be...I used a thesaurus.)
- what is unpleasing or what is lovely.
- what we find to be unworthy and inferior in the people around us or what is admirable.
- what is failing in our lives or what is excellent in our lives.
And over the years, as I have began to understand the true nature of God, I have also come to understand that these things are commands, not requests.
And not because God loves rules, but because God loves us.
I used this analogy with my kids the other day..."If I buy a vaccuum cleaner with my own money, I have free will to do whatever I want to with it. I can suck water out of a swimming pool with it if I want - though at best I might break the vacccuum and at worst, I might electricute myself. And the owners manual clearly states that I should not use the vaccuum near water, but not because the manufacturer likes making rules, rather, because the manufactuere designed and made the vaccuum cleaner and therefore, they know what is required to keep the vaccuum cleaner working properly, what is required to prevent it from breaking and what measures must be taken to avoid hurting ourselves or someone else from misuse."
Similarly, since God designed and made us, He knows what keeps us functioning properly - what is required to keep our hearts and our souls healthy and functioning properly.
Because He is in the business of healthy hearts and healthy souls.
And he knows that when we focus on what is untrue, on what is disgraceful and unfair and indescent and unhealthy and on what is tainted and unpleasing and unworthy and failing in our lives that the condition of our hearts and our souls (and therefore, our ability to love Him and love others) will begin to deteriorate.
So He tells us that in order to keep ourselves functioning properly, we must train our eyes to focus on what is true, what is noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy instead.
Unfortunately, I'm pretty self-destructive.
Maybe not self-destructive enough to stick a vaccuum hose into a swimming pool, but definitely self-destructive enough to focus on the unpleasing things in my life instead of the pleasing.
So when I looked around my house on Monday, I saw nothing but an overwhelming, seemingly insurmountable mess and immediately crawled into bed in defeat.
But then I heard Annie playing happily out on the front porch...
Because her eyes didn't see an insurmountable mess.
Her eyes saw an opportunity to line up tables and chairs and keyboards and decorations to create an outdoor office space where she could pretend she was in charge of running a veterinarian's office - helping customers, healing beloved pets and eating snacks she found packed away in boxes.
Her eyes saw limitless potential.
Her eyes saw fun.
Her eyes saw wonder.
Her eyes saw loveliness and excellence and everything praiseworthy, simply because that is what she had choosen to see.
And so I grabbed my camera to take a shot and then I quickly put my camera down and tried to see for a few minutes with my eyes, what she was able to see with hers.
And then I crawled right back into bed (but with a more thankful heart this time.)