Today was a Monday like any other Monday…

Ineffective visit at a public service office and got sent to another office that said, “There’s nothing we can do for you. Go back to the first office in October”.

Flat tire on the way to visit my sister with missing parts to my jack so I cannot change to the annoying little doughnut tire. Quote for the tire replacement was seventy dollars too high.

Three hours late to visit with my sister because of the flat tire. Almost had a fight with my sister.

Got home with the wrong kind of DVD drive for my daughter’s computer that she desperately needs fixed.

And a dear friend of mine found out her son was admitted to the hospital again.

Did I mention that today is also my birthday? I mean, it felt like a real MONDAY!

But really, it was the joy stealing enemy disguised as Monday. And I even got up early to pray this morning and prayed for protection last night.

But let me tell you what God does on a Monday, when the enemy appears to be working overtime…

In the sixth grade, I spent all year learning to play an instrument whose sole choice was influenced by my aunt’s declaration, “I played the clarinet”.  I secretly wanted to play the flute.  But I dutifully practiced week after week, splitting reeds, squeaking a lot, and learning obscure melodies called “etudes”.

By the end of the year, I had mastered most of the basics of reading music and could hold my own playing the whole, half, and quarter note in a variety of compositions.

Then came the big day. The end of the year sixth grade concert. Our single  selection was some piece of music whose title escapes me today, but mimicked a clock chiming in its melody. I can still hear the tune in my head.

It wasn’t a particularly difficult piece to play, but it has a very long quiet time toward the end of the piece. Three measures of whole note rests. Twelve beats.

Most of us budding musicians had mastered the basics of counting in the first grade and we had been duly cautioned to pat our feet and “COUNT TO TWELVE!” before playing again. However, I recall (with a smile today) a poor student playing a saxophone who started one beat early.  Now no parent would admonish the offending early entry and all congratulated each of us on our masterful playing.

But eleven, not twelve. I can still remember that today, of all of the performances and all of the concerts I’ve participated in. Out there for all to see…too early.

Isn’t that what happens when we help God out by not waiting on His timing…

Deuteronomy opens with an interesting summary of the Israelites wandering around in the wilderness.  In verse two, we learn how long the trip takes if you listen to God:

 ²It is eleven days’ journey from Horeb by the way of Mount Seir to Kadesh-barnea. (Deut 1:2, NASB)

And if you don’t?!? Well, it takes a little longer…

 ³In the fortieth year, on the first day of the eleventh month, Moses spoke to the children of Israel, according to all that the LORD had commanded him to give to them (Deut 1:3 NASB)

It seems the Israelites had to wander around in the wilderness for a generation until the sinful folk died off. Thiry nine years, eleven months, and twenty one days later…

Today I did something that I look forward to every summer. I dropped my daughter off at her dad’s house, leaving me the luxury of several weeks to spend my time as I choose.

This would not normally be out of the ordinary for most single mothers. But in my case, I have a daughter with autism, mental retardation, and bipolar disorder. The day to day with her can be another order of magnitude in handling behavior issues.

The extraordinary thing about this is my ex-husband, my daughter’s father has been faithful to take her every summer for the past eighteen years.  She is currently twenty one and he is no longer obligated by the remotest sense of the divorce decree to exercise visitation.

But every other weekend and every summer, he takes her, giving me a much needed break, preserving my sanity and allowing me to relax.

A mentor of mine once mentioned that I stew too much on the past or future on any given day.

“Be the dog”, he said.

His point was that dogs do not spend time ruminating the future or the past. They live quite comfortably in the present, dealing with whatever is in front of them at the time.

I will not pretend to represent the canine species as a group of totally well adjusted beings. Far from it. From neurotic Chihuahuas to aggressive pit bulls to hyper Australian herding dogs, they run the gamut. But, by in large, they spend their time attending to their current circumstances.

Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, runs a program on National Geographic cable channel demonstrating the power of understanding dogs when rehabilitating or training dogs.  His goal? To keep his pack of followers in a “calm-submissive” state.

Not aggressive, not avoiding, not hyper, just “calm-submissive”.

So just what does calm-submissive mean?

I’m frustrated. I’ve reached the point this week of yelling at the ceiling and pounding my fist on furniture. I’ve been angry, frustrated, cornered, irritated, felt unappreciated, and certainly like I’m not doing what I was created to do.

I’ve let my baser side show it’s ugly head this week. I’ve complained, participated in gossip, been judgemental, and tonight, I actually threw a fit…a tantrum…an actual adult, stomp-your-foot, I’ve-left-the-building snit. And it felt good…for a little while.

What is it that I’m angry about? Who turned up the volume on the frustration meter?

When my daughter decides that cooperation is not central to her motives at the present moment, she adopts the attitude, “I do not want to, you cannot make me…”, both in speech and body language.

After declaring that the Symphony of Love ministry was beginning in early May, I sought participation from friends of mine whose counsel I value and whose company I cherish.  I did not receive the highest level of positive response, and so…I quit!

Sort of…

I wrote the following almost a year ago and I’m posting it to remind many, including myself, why we need to drop our Christian culture and focus on our integrity with those around us.

Many Christians today are caught in a pattern of trying to fit in to a Christian culture, adopting “Christian” scripts in their speech and behavior, speaking Christian-eze, both with others who believe as they do and with those outside their common understanding.  Even worse, many simply are trying to fit in and gain approval from those around them, by adopting the “lingo”, incorporating someone else’s affected speech pattern into their own.  In doing so, they confuse those who don’t have a common understanding with them and also challenge their own integrity.

We talk a lot about things. We ponder. We consider. We think. We plan, cogitate, and run scenarios in our head.

We also tell ourselves we cannot do it. We sit on our blessed assurances.

But you can only talk about it so long before either, you move onto something else to think about…

Or you really do something about it. Showtime…

All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Edmund Burke (1729-1797)

I’ve been reading The Sacred Romance (yet again) by Brent Curtis and John Eldridge recently. I have the privilege of knowing a counselor who trained under Brent Curtis and knew him well. The Sacred Romance is a book describing the various ways we are diverted from our true Lover in Christ by the arrows of the enemy. Brent Curtis and John Eldridge describe how those arrows disrupt our ability to participate in God’s large story from our live, often by our wrestling control of our story from God to take over control ourselves.

Ironically, Brent Curtis went home to be with the Lord after writing The Sacred Romance. He died in a climbing accident.