Debra Farish's blog

Life You Were Meant To Live

One of my favorite scenes in the movie, The Lion King, starts with an exchange between Simba and Rafiki. After running from his father's death, Simba befriends two adorable and fun-loving underachievers who enable Simba to live a life that is not the one he was meant to live.

When you are created to be a lion, but settle to live like a warthog, there is going to be a problem. Comfort zones will become prisons, especially if you are flesh-eating lion, fighting your God-given instincts, and becoming anything less than being on the top of the food chain.

Simba’s inner dialogue is a battle of character and fear. When fear is given the larger voice, blame circles us and will become our constant companion. Rafiki enters the picture. This crazy primate served as a spiritual advisor to the royal Lion household. Just like Jesus told His disciples in John 15:26-27 (NIV), Rafiki becomes the voice of truth for Simba. "When the Counselor comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father, he will testify about me. And you also must testify, for you have been with me from the beginning.”

Simba’s counselor comes to jar Simba into walking right out of the comfort zone and into the role he was born to be, the Lion King. I love Rafiki's wisdom as he begins to talk in Simba's new vernacular. The "life with no worries" compared to the compass of truth frustrates Simba. By singing his own silly song, Rafiki has Simba's attention, then gets to Simba's heart. Rafiki knows where Simba's father is.

Simba’s guilt of causing his father’s death is just a perception, but it wasn't the truth. The deceiver wanted Simba out of the picture, because he knew that Simba would be a powerful threat to the deceiver's way of life. Simba didn't know that perceptions are far from the truth. But perceptions spawn fear-based reactions and excuses. Fortunately, Rafiki doesn’t permit Simba to use his tired excuses. Before the lion can utter one, the challenge was in play. A desperate Simba will fight his way through the vines and brambles to try to see his father again.

Rafiki finally brings Simba to his father, but all Simba sees is a reflection of himself. Down deep, he doesn’t like what he sees, but the heir of King Mufasa has not realized that time has helped him grow into the image of his father.

When Rafiki asks Simba to look harder, Simba experiences a correction from his "heavenly" father. Mufasa's words to his only son, "you are more than you have become," are haunting, but define how places of comfort become inhabited by a life without risk. When my Heavenly Father showed me how fear kept me from being what He wanted, it was hard to hear. In fact, I was very Simba-like by justifying my reactions. My trigger is having anyone think that I am incompetent. Perfection is my one of my self-made comfort zones, which walls me up and separates me from practicing life. Life is meant to be lived, and living has mistakes that make us the person we are meant to be.

Hebrews 12:1-7 (NIV):

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us…And you have forgotten that word of encouragement that addresses you as sons: "My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son." Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father?

As Mufasa slips away from his sight, Simba doesn’t want the moment to end. Finally alone with his fear (the hurt from the past), Simba confronts his questions: What if something terrible happens again that is out of my control? What if it hurts worse the next time? Then enters the quirky comfort of Rafiki, who swings his walking stick and swats Simba’s head. When asked why, Rafiki tells Simba that yes, the past can hurt, but you can either run from it or learn from it.

Abandoning fear that is controlling your life is the only way to move forward. The deceiver wants us to be paralyzed in fear and left holding broken dreams, so that we stop living. If we stop, we fall short of what we were meant to be. Living in fear is second only into living in regret.

Learn from the hurt, and "run with perseverance the race marked out" for you today.

Hmmm...do we as believers "cut and paste" the Word for our own agenda? This thought was introduced in the new book I am reading, "Forgotten God" by Francis Chan. What do you think?

Luke 23: 44-46 ( The Message)
By now it was noon. The whole earth became dark, the darkness lasting three hours—a total blackout. The Temple curtain split right down the middle. Jesus called loudly, "Father, I place my life in your hands!" Then he breathed his last.

Praying a Chartes Labyrinth

Imagining receiving a phone call from a co-worker who wanted to create a labyrinth in a conference room at your corporate office headquarters? Crazy, right?!

That was just an average day for me "back in the day" when I was on staff at Campus Crusade for Christ. When the call came in, I just rolled my eyes and thought more logistically than spiritually.

The follow-up e-mail arrived with instructions on how to outline an eleven-circuit design that was divided into four quadrants using stones and votive candles to mark the path. Try as I might, the inhouse labyrinth didn't live up to its historical or planned expection.

Created in the Middle Ages, labyrinths were meant to be walked. Some pilgrims would walk labyrinths out while on their knees as a sign of repentance. A labyrinth is different from a maze because of the basic fact that there is only one way in and one way out. It serves as a metaphor for a journey to the center of one's deepest self and back out into the world with a broadened understanding of who one is.

From what I've learned, a labyrinth consists of three stages: cleansing, illumination, and union. It becomes a searching journey for the soul in hopes of becoming closer to God.

Fast forward six years from my time at CCCI and I stumble across a labyrinth in Gotha, FL. If I hadn't been exposed to the notion of a labyrinth, I would have thought it was a bit too new age-y and avoided it all together. Out of respect, I read the sign about this labyrinth. The name listed on the sign was Chartes Labyrinth. Had to Google that to learn that this design was fashioned after one created in the Chartres Cathedral outside Paris, France.

Something made me want to take the journey painted blue on the concrete. As I started, my instruction was to release the details of life. Not an easy task for this "stream-of-consciousness" girl! Clearing my mind would envitably have me making a new list of things that needed to be done. But I started.

As I followed the white lanes, I thought about the kinesthetic learner and how focusing on the pattern would be helpful exercise to quiet his or her mind. However, since I am more of a visual learner who happens to be very goal-oriented, I think my mind was more stimulated than restful by the challenge.

With head down, my intial thought was that this would be quick. In fact, the first few steps revolve around the floral center, making you think you are closer than you were.

As a took a turn to the outside, the feeling of being in a theme park turn-style struck me. A sense of "what am I doing" fell upon me. I could so easily step out and get back to the car because this wasn't working like I wanted it to. No major words from God were coming.

Finally, a thought did enter my head. Something reminded me about the apostle Paul, and how he struggled with the gulf between earthly and heavenly realms. Sanctification doesn't really make us perfect, it just shows us how much we need a Savior. Some may call it futile, but really it is understanding that God is still on the throne (and I am not). Too many times in my life I have taken back things to fix because God's timetable was a bit too slow for me.

Once in awhile, I would stop and look up, catching the breeze then remember where I was. I was standing in the cemetery where several of family have been buried. It has been the first time in quite awhile since I've visited, but made the effort to place flowers to honor what would have been my mother's 68th birthday.

The breeze rattled the flag pulleys making a pinging noise and I had a flashback of Mom's funeral. One of the floral arrangements that came had a card with a certain Bible verse. The card read:

Psalm 27:13 (New International Version) I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.

Had I forgotten these words or just dismissed them because it wasn't going the way I believed it should? I pondered some more as I continued to walk.

After several more minutes, I reached the scalloped center. According to the directions, it was here I would receive guidance.

I looked up to see a mosaic of the life and ministry of Christ. My eyes followed each tile to another as they flowed into new scenes. I looked for Palm Sunday, then the Garden of Gethsemane until I saw His ascension into heaven.

This is what everything is about. The illumination was it is all about Jesus and what He is doing not me. Joining the Lord in His work was what was required of me. The labryrinth pathway requires me to go back the way I came, united with Christ to tell the good news of what He has done. I stepped out onto the sidewalk with this new thought in my heart, so I walked over to a corner of the cemetery where someone special has been laid to rest (Dr. William R. Bright, founder of Campus Crusade for Christ). The plaque on his crypt has two inspiring quotes: "A life lived well" and "A slave of Jesus by choice."

Psalm 27:13, 14 (The Message) - I'm sure now I'll see God's goodness in the exuberant earth. Stay with God! Take heart. Don't quit. I'll say it again: Stay with God.

Is it time for you to make a choice that unites you with the things of God today? Go to Him in prayer.

Slow Starts and Fruit Salads

We try to make plans each week to make the most of our weekend. Today was supposed to be a day trip somewhere. But it is mid-morning, and nothing has been finalized. The weather is beautiful, and I am sure there are scads of things to do -- just not feeling it.

Spring in Florida is a special time. Snowbirds fly their coop just to enjoy the warmth the season brings. Floridians know different things like the cool morning air of sunrise services on Easter, the burst of azalea color, the taste of fresh-picked strawberries, and stickiness of juicing all remaining oranges left on the trees.

My mother was a nut when it came to making fruit salad this time each year. I would have juice running down my elbows, trying to section each orange and pink grapefruit. The floor was sticky for days. Never could get it all wiped up.

She would add bananas and cherries to the mix in the largest Tupperware bowl we had.

May today's slow start bring you into all that God has for you this season of rebirth.

Isaiah 49: 8-12 (The Message):

God also says:

"When the time's ripe, I answer you.
When victory's due, I help you.
I form you and use you
to reconnect the people with me,
To put the land in order,
to resettle families on the ruined properties.
I tell prisoners, 'Come on out. You're free!'
and those huddled in fear, 'It's all right. It's safe now.'
There'll be foodstands along all the roads,
picnics on all the hills—
Nobody hungry, nobody thirsty,
shade from the sun, shelter from the wind,
For the Compassionate One guides them...

 

 

 

Temporal Things

The decision was made to sell one of the two vehicles to cover a few looming bills this week.  Can't help it, but being totally emo about the whole thing.  My logic side knows that my car resell value was better than the Jeep, but it still smarts losing what I consider "my car."

Why was this car so important to me?  Looking back maybe it is because I've never had a car in which I was active in selecting it.

My first car was a 1982 powder blue Caprice Classic, a loaner from my grandparents. It was one of Pop pop's company cars that he decided to keep when he retired.  It was a huge boat of a car!  Good thing is that you could pile in all my friends as we cruised around town.

My next car didn't come my way until the late 80's.  Getting it was a bit of a fluke as my sister had been shopping for a Ford Probe after graduating from high school.  I remember being at the dealership when she was selecting the extras for it.   At some point my grandmother began to feel guilty that one granddaughter was getting a new car while the other wasn't.  A second car was negotiated into the deal, and I was given a low mileage 1987 gray Chevy Beretta, which I kept until it was totalled in a head-on collision.  

The next vehicle was a 1992 teal Taurus.  I hated the color from the get-go.  Don't get me wrong, I was thankful to have something to drive.  However when you like things a certain way, driving something that doesn't represent your style is difficult.    

Wasn't until 2002 did I experience a severe tire blow out and lost the back bumper.  Once that happened, my love/hate relationship with the Taurus rose to a new level.  If I have a defect in anything I own, like a chipped dinner plate, I throw it away and purchase a replacement online.

Eventually Steve took custody of the Taurus and I would drove my grandfather's other car, a 1987 Buick Le Sabre.  The challenge with this car was that the a/c didn't work.  Eventually the electronic window motors went too.  Driving 50 minutes to work in the Florida sun was an adventure.  The car windows would lower if you pushed them down.  But don't over do it.  Because if you pushed the glass down into the door, you could just use the pipe wrench to pull up the glass or we would have to remove the entire door panel just to retrieve the window.

Wasn't until we purchased the 2004 Jeep Cheroke did things change for us when it came to the cars we drove.  In January 2007,  we became a two-car family again because of the Rendevous!  True, I wanted more of a luxury sedan.  I searched weeks before deciding on a vehicle.  Once we found the Rendevous all things fell into place. 

I probably projected too many dreams and wishes on this car.  I was convinced that God directed us to it because it would be the vehicle to help me in becoming that "soccer mom" I so want to be.  I imagined having a baby seat in the back.  After all, God created the garden first before He put man into it.  In my mind, He created my enviroment before filling it. 

Another thing about the Rendevous was my sense of independence with it.  I didn't have to arrange rides or pre-plan when I wanted to go somewhere.  Day trips with my camera would allow me to explore my surroundings or take the weekend to visit my sister in Atlanta. 

Steve keeps saying that the cars and possessions are temporal, and God has something better for us.  Down deep. I know he speaks truth, but my heart still misses what once was.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (The Message)

 

So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There's far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can't see now will last forever.

 

 

My Husband's Face

Before the flight departed the Atlanta airport, it had already happened.

I was on the last leg of an amazing week of skiing with friends in the Rocky Mountains. The whole story of getting me there is best explained as a plan only God could have orchestrated.

Months before, the Lord prompted me to pray about the annual Singles ski trip. I remember arguing with Him about even putting it on my list. Finally I throw up my hands convinced the Lord was teaching me about disappointment and unanswered prayers.

Next thing I knew, bits and pieces fell into place from my grandmother's nurse encouraging my family that a respite would be good for me to having another person anonymously pay on my behalf for the entire trip.  Others close to me loaned me ski gear and winter clothes. My sister sacrificed by taking vacation time to come home to be the caregiver for our mom and grandparents.

It was mid-trip when I called home to hear that Grammie was having a bad week. In fact, Pop pop took her to the ER where she waited for hours before seeing a doctor. She turned to my granddad and told him that she would rather die at home then in the waiting room. Hearing that was shocking, but I interpreted that as being dramtic more than anything because of the great time I was having.  I quickly dismissed it.

When I had landed that Friday night, I was pleasantly surprised to see my grandfather, sister, and brother-in-law waiting at the gate. At first, things didn't register with me. We never leave my mom and grandmother unattended at home. Someone always stayed behind.

As Rob took my coat from me, I noticed the tears in my sister's eyes as she took Pop pop's arm. Wasn't until we hit the escalator did I ask if our great aunt was at the house. Someone answered that she's probably arriving tomorrow.

My questions kept coming until I figured it out as we stood there in Baggage. Friends of mine said later that they thought it was odd that I was told right there. It wasn't my family's plan, but I kept pushing.

My grandmother was admitted to the hospital a day before my flight home. Pop pop had gone to see her after running home for a quick bite of dinner and before coming to get me. He waved at her and stood there at the foot of her bed when she took her last breath.

I don't remember the ride home and vaguely remember someone saying that we hadn't told my mom yet. I guess it was the rush to get me at the airport that my family discussed waiting to tell Mom in person. I remember how my Mom's face fell that night. It wasn't until we had left her room did she cry.

Grief affects us all differently. Because I'm more of a "doer" I go into to task mode. It was 2:45 AM, and I decided to go to the grocery store to pick up juices and danish for the family members that would be arriving in just hours now. After all, that's what Grammie would have done.

As I drove back from the store, I was so angry at God. Why did He have to take her now when He knew all I ever wanted was her to meet my husband!  That prayer became a constant in my life. I wanted Grammie to meet my husband so that she would know that I was being taken care of.

Grammie was keen observer of things, especially people. That was the artist in her. She would always call me over to notice the shadowing that would fall from the contours of someone's face.

"Couldn't You have waited a bit longer before taking her?" The tears came harder as it was just me in that car driving down our dark road without a soul in sight. Suddenly, a golden light filled the car, and I remember the question said behind my right ear. "Who is your husband?'

Tears streamed down my face as I acknowledged what was written in Isaiah 54:5, " For your Maker is your husband— the LORD Almighty is his name— the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth."

Suddenly things changed for me. No longer was I questioning why God didn't answer my prayers. Instead I realized how He had truly answered it while giving me the reassurance that indeed my Grammie was being greeted in heaven by my Heavenly Bridegroom. I could even imagine her studying His features from His loving eyes to the slope of His nose down to the cupid bow of His lips.

Lamentations 3:25-30 (The Message)

God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,
to the woman who diligently seeks.
It's a good thing to quietly hope,
quietly hope for help from God.
It's a good thing when you're young
to stick it out through the hard times.

When life is heavy and hard to take,
go off by yourself. Enter the silence.
Bow in prayer. Don't ask questions:
Wait for hope to appear.
Don't run from trouble. Take it full-face.
The "worst" is never the worst.

Stages of Death

There are stages in death, just like stages of birth the hospice nurse told me in the summer of 2000, but I didn't believe her.

She wasn't there two years prior when I stood in the ER as the doctors told us that this would be the last day my Mom would be on this earth. Dana and I laid hands on our mother and asked God for a miracle. He gave us one, she left the hospital nine days later.

Another reason I didn't buy into what the nurse told me was that it was just a few days before that Mom sitting upright in an easy chair enjoying an ice cream on a stick. She hadn't done that in months, if not years.

Mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis when I was seven. Soon after, she was relegated to living her life in a wheelchair. Everything was pretty normal except she didn't have the use of her legs.

Wasn't until a severe fall out of her wheelchair in 1991, did she require more day-to-day care, so I stepped in to handle things. Most people who live a sedentary lifestyle battle certain threats like pressure point abrasions. These breakdowns of the skin can cause major wounds. What concerned the nurse was my mother's protein levels were low, and she would need protein to help fight in the decay. One day the wound would be looking great; the next day it could go to a stage 3 (which meant going down the the fat level under the skin right before going straight to the bone).

Another contributing factor to having the roller coaster days was having a catheter. Although it helped to keep the wound area dry, it became a ladder of infection. Keeping Mom free from infection took antibiotics and constant flushing out her system. But the window of being infection free was always limited.

Doctors could try giving her a feeding tube, but they wouldn't operate with the infection. The moment the doctors would insert a peg tube, infections would spread throughout her body making her septic (infection spreads through the blood stream to all major organ resulting in organ failure and eventually death).

Looking back now, I realize my naivete with what the nurse was trying to explain to me. My mother was going throught the stages to prepare her body for the envitable. Her body was finding it hard to digest food. Her one to two bites before pushing away the plate was just what was supposed to happen. My adding protein powder to everything that passed her lips or adding ice cream to shakes didn't really help as much as I believed it would.

I've heard it said that during the stages of death there is always a rebound. This is when the patient looks better than ever or does something the builds hope that remission is just around the corner. No one can tell me otherwise, but I think the rebound is part of God's compassion to those that are left behind. It is a glimmer of once was. For me, it was an afternoon of eating ice cream.

Psalm 139: 16

Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day.

Psalm 146:3 - 5 (The Message)

Don't put your life in the hands of experts
who know nothing of life, of salvation life.
Mere humans don't have what it takes;
when they die, their projects die with them.
Instead, get help from the God of Jacob,
put your hope in God and know real blessing!

Releasing the Wrapper

Today is the first Friday I have had off in three weeks.  Steve has threatened to take away my phone so that I don't receive calls from the office.  Lately I am finding it hard to switch gears because my life  seems like a balancing act. 

To compound things, Steve and I have reversed roles.  He has become the homemaking expert, which makes me feel a bit less at home. 

My kitchen cabinet placements has been overhauled.  The furniture arrangements have shifted a bit.  Finding new picture frames sprinkled around the house.  It is all the things that have brought me joy.

Last week I acquired some furniture for the office suite we occupy.  I spent the whole day  meticulously placing things just so.  I scoured discount shops over the weekend to purchase the little extras to make things perfect.  As I used the "wind tunnel" fabric attachment on the vacuum, couldn't help but hum a Nickelback song. 

Wasn't aware until Statia found it funny that I was acting like June Cleaver!

Instead of trying to figure out why God has had things go this way, I should been thankful that He has carved out moments that bring me such joy in my day-to-day.  I need to be energized, challenged, and organized.  "Releasing the wrapper" that it comes in should be something I do willing.  But that's what hangs me up the most. 

God, why didn't You do it this way?  I've been thinking about it a lot, and it seems to me that this would be the most efficient way to make me happy.  If God was a texter, He would respond back to me with "LOL."

Ephesians 1:  11 (The Message)

It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.

Doing Satan's Job For Him

This is the phrase that jumped off the 104th page of "A Purpose Driven Life."  Here is the whole quote:

Whenever I judge another believer, four things instantly happen:  I lose fellowship with God, I expose my own pride and insecurity, I set myself up to be judged by God, and I harm the fellowship of the church.  A critical spirit is a costly vice.

The Bible calls Satan "the accuser of our brothers."  It's the Devil's job to blame, complain, and criticize members of God's family.  Anytime we do the same, we're being duped into doing Satan's work for him.  Remember, other Christians, no matter how much you disagree with them, are not the real enemy.

Thanks to years with my life coach, I've learned that my healthy default system is living in accountability.  Which means I thrive when I admit my shortcomings and see what I could have done better in the situation.  I struggle when others throw off any ownership to the problem then throw hand grenades into the mix.

According to Wikipedia, a hand grenade is an anti-personal weapon that explodes a short time after release.

Whenever a person can't be confronted on the issues of a disagreement, they lob in their own anti-personal weapon to distract, which always causes more damage than before the conflict began.  That can be the past argument, not letting something go, or a personal character trait attack.   

My goal is not to do the work of Satan, but emulate my Savior.  So, here is my "intentional statement:"  I am willing to build up the body of believers today.

I Thessalonians 5:9
God didn't set us up for an angry rejection but for salvation by our Master, Jesus Christ. He died for us, a death that triggered life. Whether we're awake with the living or asleep with the dead, we're alive with him! So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you'll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind. I know you're already doing this; just keep on doing it.