Soaked with a rain coat

Morning traffic in Dallas is bad anyway, and then you add pouring rain. But I was busy with my thoughts about how I was going to journal my recent trip to Jerusalem, and so the time was going by quick enough though my truck tires were spinning slowly.

Then this random car cut right in front of me in the right hand lane and turned on his hazards and I went crazy mad for a moment because I could no longer move forward--he was blocking my way. He got out of his car, and hurried around the back. All the while my jaw is on the floor of my truck in disbelief at this turn of events. I couldn't get around his car if I tried, he had cut me off so hard there was only about 12 inches between my front bumper and his trunk. I could feel myself getting madder and madder. Then he was opening up the passenger door and pulling a little girl out of the car.

She immediately doubled over and got sick on the road. In the pouring rain, her dad patting her back and trying to shield her body from the rain with his back.

Nancy.

I could hear The Lord's voice as clear as day in that moment and I was already reaching for my giant rain coat and opening my door to step out into the pouring rain.

The man looked up for a moment when he felt the rain coat over his shoulders and around his little girl. He could not see me, but he said "gracias" and continued to pat his little girl's back as she cried and continued to get sick. But at least now they were dry, and I knew that made a difference.

I had been running late that morning to work anyway. Matt had to get dropped off early to a cross country race, which meant I would go in late to work. I had also stopped for a coffee, blaming jet lag from the Jerusalem trip for my lazy mind. But in that moment when The Lord spoke to me, I knew I had been in that exact place at exactly the right time according to His will.

And as I stood there getting soaked to the bone protecting that dad and his daughter from the onslaught of the pouring rain, I wondered how often does God put us in exactly the right place at the right time and we don't even know it. I'm guessing a lot. I'm guessing more than a lot. I'm guessing its a huge number. I'm guessing we have no clue how often that occurs.

Psalm 121 says that The Lord does not let your foot be moved without His knowing or say-so. That He watches over us by day and by night without ceasing. And even though there are times I can point to and understand that I have experienced exactly that, I just have to be transparent here and confess that there are many more times that I do not recognize He has watched over me with such precision.

But this morning, in the pouring rain, his precision was so exact that there was only 12 inches of space between my front bumper and that guys' trunk.  I wasn't going anywhere. I was meant to be in that moment. My "Hallelujah" could not be loud enough. He had placed my feet firmly into a situation where I could be of help, and the privilege of having that assignment had washed peace over me.

The sick girl's little brother opened the back window and waved at me, grinning ear to ear--he had probably never seen a grown woman get intentionally drenched with rain on the side of a road. I waved back at him smiling--no, I wasn't saving lives this morning. But I was in the presence of my creator doing what He had created me to do. Serve.

Finally, little girl was better, and dad was putting her back in her seat for the long road to wherever they were going. I walked slowly back to my truck, soaking in the peace that had come over me. You see, when our actions are in line with God's will, there is only one outcome. Total peace.

So put your rain coat down today and get soaked in the Peace of God. The feeling passes all understanding, I guarantee it.

Ditching Plan B

It caught my eye on a shopping trip in 1999. A poster with a small pine tree surrounded by tall walls of rock. Below the scene was the word “DETERMINATION”. I sure did admire that little pine tree determined to grow in an impossible environment. I knew it was going to inspire me for years to come if I parked it on the door of my new office at my new job. For the last 17 years, that poster has greeted me each morning as I open my office door oftentimes giving me the gumption I needed to pull my big girl panties on and face the challenges of that day.

About two weeks ago, I hesitated as I opened my office door. Like a bell that went from a beautiful ringing sound to the less familiar but distinctive and unpleasant “clunk”, the image no longer boosted my resolve for the day. I thought nothing of it, until the next morning when it happened again. So, just like all strange problems that pop up like that, I took it to The Lord and asked Him what I should make of this sudden change of attitude regarding the pine tree surrounded by rock walls.

The answer was in the question. It is a pine tree surrounded by rock walls. I smiled to the heavens with a good little giggle, marched to that door, ripped up the poster and put it in the trash.

What in the world, Nancy, have you lost your mind?

Ok, hear me out for a minute. Let’s say you want to plant a tree. You have two choices in real estate to put it. The first is in hard ground surrounded by rock walls. The second is soft rich soil out in the light. Now I don’t have much of a green thumb, but even I know most trees need their roots to go deep into the soil and their tops require lots of sunlight. The pine tree in my poster didn’t have either of those things and so it was short, stubby, and in pretty rough shape. Hard ground and rock walls will do that to trees.

It will do that to people too.

More times than I care to admit, I have been that pine tree. Surviving a life of hard ground and rock walls. And if I am truly transparent about it, I will tell you that I have often built those rock walls myself. For the rest of you rock wall building experts, you get me here. The walls keep anymore hurt out of your life. So when people are hurtful, we pick up our tools and start building those rock walls higher and higher so that people can’t get in and hurt us anymore.

But that is not the type of life Our Creator God intends for us to live. He created us to live in soft rich soil out in the light. It grieves His heart when we put ourselves on hard ground surrounded by the rock walls we have built.

“Oh, but Nancy,” you might say to me, “God doesn’t understand the hurt I’ve endured. It’s better for me to be here within my walls where I am safe.”

Believe me, you guys, I totally get that about you. Because that was how I felt about it too. Even that very afternoon on the day I ripped that poster off my door, I was back to building those rock walls. Hurt so bad I cried for a day.

But I was not alone in my grief. Jesus who had been crucified by those He loved sat beside me. Helped me to see that living as a short, stubby pine tree on hard ground surrounded by rock walls is a horrible plan. And He’s a Plan A only kind of guy.

God’s Plan A for us is to grow our roots deep into rich soil and be bathed in the warmth of sunlight. TO THRIVE. Because Father God made us to thrive. He didn’t create us to dream up and execute some rotten Plan B that has us building rock walls on hard ground. EVER.

How can anyone thrive in a world of hurt? I admit, I don’t have all of the answers. But I do know that when I walk alongside others who are hurting, my desire to build walls around myself fades away. Because in those times, I am the hands and feet of Jesus. And He becomes all I need. No matter what kind of hurt I’ve got staring at me, He is my portion and that gives me hope (Lamentations 3:24). It’s a “Plan A” kind of living.

There will still be days when you want to build rock walls around yourself. The desire will become less and less the more you thrive under Plan A. But what do you do when you do feel like building rock walls? Make two calls. The first call is to Jesus. Shredding your Plan B is a tricky business of the heart, and you are going to need Jesus to take care of that. Your heart and your flesh will fail, but He is your strength (Psalm 73:26). The second call is to someone in your life that you know is a wall-builder too. Just telling that person you’re getting set to build your walls is one sure way to see to it that you don’t—because oftentimes those kinds of walls can only be built if nobody is paying attention.

We are clever rock wall builders, aren’t we?

But God who IS the ROCK (Psalm 18:2) sings over you (Zephaniah 3:17), Beloved. Calling you to a rich life in Him. Toss that Plan B out the door. You simply don’t need it.

Rockin' Babies

"She sure does love rocking' those babies!" one of my friends had commented about our mutual friend, Lee.

You see, Lee is a NICU nurse. For decades, she has cared for premature babies in the hospital. In fact, it was in the NICU that Lee and I truly became friends. I had known her from church, but almost 14 years ago, my cousin had her daughter prematurely and Lee was her nurse. It was during that time that Lee and I truly became friends. And during that time of frequent visits to the NICU, I learned a thing or two about NICU nurses and discovered that my friend Lee was legendary.

There are basically four things that a premature baby needs: a calming environment because they are easily over-stimulated, outside heat to keep them warm because they don't do a good job keeping their own body temperature, oxygen because their lungs aren't developed enough to provide it for themselves, and tube feedings because they are too little and weak to bottle feed (or nurse).

Two of these needs--calming environment and tube feedings are what make Lee legendary. Premature babies have very subtle signs of anxiety, but Lee could always read them quickly. Many times I saw her calmly stop what she was doing and turn to a bassinet across the room behind her back just in time to see a slight shift in a baby's heart rate. And before you could say "how did you know that they were getting upset?" Lee would be calming them down with soft words and a gentle hand.

Then there were tube feedings. Premature babies are tricky to take off tube feedings in which the milk is placed into the stomach directly through a tube that they put down the baby's throat. It's tricky because you have to teach them to suck and the action of suckling wears them out which causes their heart rate to drop. Lee of course, gets all of the hard cases. Because shoot. Even a premature baby knows its easier to be tube fed than work for your food by suckling.

Maybe it's her tone. Her attitude? I don't know. All I know is that all of the hard cases go to Lee who gets them bottle feeding as if they've been doing it for weeks. WITHOUT the heart rate drops that can be so scary and hard on baby's tiny heart.

"Do you want to hold her?" Lee asked me one day when I was there to visit. My little premature cousin was still hooked up to tubes, but could keep her own body heat for a time.

"Don't worry, Nancy. See? Look at her heart rate. She stays calm when she hears your voice. She will love being held by you."

Oh gosh.

So I sat in the rocking chair and Lee handed me that tiny baby girl. So fragile. So in need. And I was flooded with compassion and love for this tiny being in my arms.

And I realized right then that God sees us just like that. Holding us gently because we are so fragile and vulnerable. Wanting to keep us calm, breathing, warm, and full in a way that only He can provide.

But so often we don't let Him do what His heart longs to do for us. We refuse to let go of the tube feeding because we enjoy the easy road. We refuse to take comfort in the gentle voice of The Father and instead try to find comfort from others. We refuse to breathe fresh air and instead suck the stale air that is there in the pit we made for ourselves.  We refuse His offer of warm shelter and choose the cold world.

Do we not remember that Our Maker sings over us while we sleep? It is a sign of the joy He feels when we allow Him to love us.

"I don't think she understands all that science stuff you're saying quite yet, Nancy." Lee gently teased me as she checked on the wee human package I was holding.

"No," I said, smiling back at Lee, "but she understands the tone of my voice. She knows she is loved. That's all that matters."

Indeed, Beloved. Know that you are loved by The One True God. And that He takes joy in loving you.

The Champions Among Us

Our three kiddos delight in the story Vern and I tell about when we were dating. Since it is well-documented that people's ability to make good choices drops dramatically after 10PM, we had decided not to see each other after 10PM until we were married. Our close circle of friends knew about this self-imposed curfew and helped us stay accountable to it.  One of our dearest friends at that time was a cop in town, and he would often patrol the street where Vern's house was around 10PM to make sure I was no longer there. Once in a while, I would still be there, and he would shine his spotlight on us in the driveway and "woop" his siren a bit to get us moving along. 

The kids giggle at this story, Vern and I smile, and all of us see an example of how Godly people work together to honor God.

Honor God?

That's right. God intended sex to occur between a man and a woman who are married. Vern and I wanted to make sure we honored God by waiting to have sex until we were married.  It was going to be hard and so we asked some close friends to help us stay accountable to that. Vern and I giggled often that first week after we got married, because it was really weird being together after 10PM!

"Mom, tell the other part of the story!" one of the kiddos urged.

Ok, so then a few months after Vern and I got married, we went to the doctor because I was pregnant. When the doctor's due date estimation included the possibility that Vern and I had sex before we got married, I got HOT MAD.

"That's just not possible! We did NOT have sex before we got married, and your little index card there says I may have gotten pregnant before July 14th." I had stood up in the doctor's office, while both my husband and the obstetrician looked at me with blank stares.

"Mrs. Garling, that's just an estimation."

"Well, your estimation is wrong and I would like you to change it. We worked hard to honor God in that, and I want credit for it. I won't let some little index card take that away from us!"

Vern sat grinning as the doctor changed the index card so that the beginning date of possible conception was July 14th (the day we got married), and I sat down again, quite satisfied.

The kids giggle again, and seem to never tire of this story that shows how we honored God even in our family planning. A story that shows them we live by what we teach them, even when it's hard. Because they are all in that age now where we talk about the boundaries of sex often and I am thankful we have that story to tell them.

So fast forward to this week. A dear friend and family member of ours shared on Facebook that she is pregnant. Many wrote back and congratulated her.

Why didn't I? 

Because in my world, I have a 12 year old daughter who admires this woman. And I had to tell her that this woman--recently divorced with three young boys of her own--is having sex with a man who is not her husband and they are having a baby.  I have to comfort my daughter as she cries through her heartbreak and disappointment that this woman she thought was a great follower of Christ is not what she appeared to be.

Part of me should be glad this happened. It gives me the opportunity to show my daughter that we all make bad choices and cause pain to others--but that God in His mercy and grace loves us despite these terrible ways we disobey him.

But the other part of me is just angry. Can I be transparent here and say that? Angry that I had to tell my daughter this news and watch as her heart broke. Worried that stuff like this will start making that wide road of disobedience look acceptable to her. Frustrated that role models of single Christian women who honor God with their bodies seem rare. If you are one, please stand up and testify to the awesome power of obedience to The Lord.

Fight for that day in the future when your kiddos sit on your couch and giggle as you tell them about making the doctor change the dates on your index card. Because choosing to honor God with your body makes you a champion among us.
 

Eyes Squeezed Shut

Our family went to Disney World in 2013 after I had completed all of my breast cancer treatment and we did this ride called The Rockin’ Roller Coaster. This roller coaster takes you from 0to60MPH in just 2.8 seconds—practically how a pilot in a superjet feels taking off from an aircraft carrier—yes, that speed. 5G’s worth of speed and pressure. 

Well, I’m glad I didn’t know all of that before I got on that ride. My husband Vern was going to ride with Grace who was in 3^rd grade at the time, and I was going to ride with Isaac, who was in 1^st grade and barely pushing 40^th percentile on the growth chart. But he had met the height requirement for the ride, so we were good to go.

I guess some red flags should’ve gone off when 3 ride attendants came to put all of their body weight into Isaac’s seat harness to be sure he was in there GOOD. Because when we started to accelerate, I began to comprehend that I may be arrested for putting my youngest child in extreme danger as we corkscrewed and inverted our way through the ride in the dark.

They took a picture of the 4 of us on that ride…Yeah. There was Vern and Grace eyes wide open grinning ear to ear hands in the air doing the happy seat dance.

And then there was me and Isaac. Eyes squeezed shut, mouths in full grimace, holding onto the seat bars with death grip white knuckles.

And honestly, I think that most of us are trying to keep our eyes closed during this crazy 5G ride called LIFE. We don’t really want to see the next corkscrew. We don’t want to see the craziness raging on either side of us. Sometimes we don’t even want to see the person sitting next to us. We are just trying to survive the ride in the dark.

The human eyeball is perhaps one of God’s greatest inventions. It is essential to our daily function (for most of us), yet so delicate that spending too much time looking into a bright light can damage it.

But we need light. Something in our nature craves it. Why is that? Why do we need light?

Well, I think there are three reasons why we do. First, we need light for our safety. So I’m not sure if you guys know this, but none of us were designed to be able to see in the dark. We lack a tapetum lucidum (tah-PEE-dum LU-see-dum)—a tissue layer in the eye that allows for night vision. So when I go on one of my early morning hikes during our family camping trips, I start out long before the sun comes up, which means I have to wear a headlamp so I can see the trail. Yes I look really silly with it on.  But it’s either THAT, or no hike in the early morning—it just wouldn’t be safe because I couldn’t see where I was going without it—I don’t have tapetum lucidum.

Second, we make better decisions in the light. When Vern and I were dating, we had agreed that we wanted to keep our bodies pure for each other until our wedding night. We had read somewhere that people’s ability to control themselves dive bombs at around 10PM—which adult bodies define as “dark” based on a bunch of boring biology. So one of our rules was a 10PM curfew. We had a handful of friends who agreed to help us stay accountable to that, including a policeman, who would regularly patrol down the street in front of Vern’s house at 10PM. If he saw Vern and I still executing our goodbyes, he would woop! His siren and turn his big light on us and use his bullhorn…”step AWAY from the girl, Vern.” Well… the point is our ability to make good choices in the dark is remarkably bad.

Third, our desire to live comes alive in the light. Something happened to me long before I met my husband Vern that brought my whole happy life screeching to a halt. My doctors advised that I should not be left alone as the incident left me suffering from a high level of anxiety and depression—a clear recipe for suicide. So I was sent home to North Dakota and I burrowed under my bed sheets with the lights off. I found comfort in the dark because I didn’t want to live, and in the dark, I didn’t feel the need to try. But the sunlight would stream into the window and I began a long journey of heart ache to get out from underneath those bed sheets. Because the desire to live comes alive in the light.

So I think we crave light because in the light we are safe. We make good decisions. We are able to function better. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that humans spend a lot of time trying to make brighter longer lasting light bulbs. In fact, the newest light technology boasts a light brightness of 300 lumens per watt that lasts over 12 years. Compare that to the first light bulb, which had a light brightness of 2 lumens per watt and lasted for maybe 3 days. But even the newest technology available in the home is only 60% efficient at creating light.

Why is that? Well, scientists such as myself can come up with all sorts of physical reasons why it’s not possible to achieve 100% efficiency in creating light. But the bottom line is that we don’t understand light well enough to make a light bulb that is 100% efficient.

Still, we need light. We crave light. And even though we do not fully understand light, we work really hard with the hope that one day, we will understand it.

Now if you are a Christian, and I don’t assume that all of you are, and I’m still crazy about you so relax, your heart is already thinking about Jesus. In John 8:12, Jesus says “I am the light.” So to a Christian, Jesus is THE LIGHT. We need Him. We crave Him. Our safety, our ability to make good decisions, and our overall ability to function are dependent on Him.  Because just as Paul says in his letter to the Thessalonians, we are children of the day! We are not meant to live our lives in darkness. 

Personally, I think God intentionally created us without tapetum lucidum tissue in our eyes to make it perfectly clear that we are not meant to live in darkness. 

He had a better idea.

And II Corinthians 4:6 tells us exactly what that idea was:

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light [that’s God] shine in our hearts [WHY?] to give us the light of the knowledge [what kind of knowledge?] of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.

It was the perfect idea. The ultimate light –His light--God's light--would live in us. Not 2 or even 300 lumens per watt—but the 100% efficient ultimate light source of The Lord Jesus at our disposal for free.

So the question is…what kind of source are YOU tapping into? A little light bulb that will last for a time? Or Jesus Himself who will last for eternity? You must choose. For you were not created with a tapetum lucidum in your eye--you require a light source. One choice may help you survive your time on this planet. But the other will surely cause you to live beyond survival and actually thrive.

Thrive on a roller coaster with 5G's of speed and pressure? Yes. Exactly. With the right light. 

Come on, Baby--LEAN!!

I was giggling and terrified at the same time.

Vern and I were demonstrating a trust exercise to the 6th graders at Bible study last night. We had pushed against each others hands and walked our feet out further and further until all that was holding us up was the pressure we had on each other's hands.

"Come on, Baby--LEAN!!" my husband Vern said coaxingly. He apparently thought we could walk out a lot further than we already were.

Now you might think that I am an adventurous type of person. I love to camp and ride horses, and I am married to a Texas rodeo cowboy after all...but you would be wrong in thinking that about me.

Because I was fighting my body's panic as I stared at the short distance already between my nose and the floor. To disengage from leaning against Vern meant I would fall to the floor right on my face, which would really hurt. But I was not too excited about increasing the distance between our feet either as the probability of falling became increasingly apparent. This was an adventure I was not sure I should have signed up for.

I dragged my eyes off the ground and looked at Vern. Determination mixed with playfulness skidded across his face. So typical of my man. In his element now. Doing something off the charts with that ridiculous grin on his face that I can't resist. So keeping my eyes locked on his, together we took a few more steps out.

It was daring and extreme and I could hardly believe how far we had gone!

Then, keeping our eyes on each other and pressure on each others' hands, we started to close the distance and finally stood back up straight to a chorus of thunderous applause from the 6th graders.

Kids were eager to try it themselves and the discussion afterwards about who we put our trust in was filled with passion and excitement. Because in a topic like this, Jesus will always steal the show.

But if we are going to be transparent about it, I think I got more out of that lesson than the kiddos did. 

You see, Vern and I have had our struggles in this life that have left us worn out and fed up with ourselves and each other. One step away from face planting to the floor.

Some of you know exactly what I am talking about.

But in that moment when he coaxed me to lean on him harder and our eyes locked--it confirmed for me what I already knew. Vern is trustworthy. He is strong. He is encouraging. He can take it when I lean into him.

And when I focus on those traits of his, I find myself leaning hard into him and as a team we do some pretty darn incredible things.

So Ladies, tonight when the kiddos go to bed, put aside your fed up worn out self. Take your husband to the nearest large expanse of floor in your house. Put your palms together and start walking those feet out. Ask God to remind you of the strong qualities your spouse has so that you will lean harder into that man.

He can take it. But more than that. He will thrive on your trust in him because that is how he was designed by The Creator. 

Together you can do incredible things! So come on, Baby!  LEAN!!

Off-Roading Garling Style Part 6: Scars and Final Thoughts

“Can you still see it?” Vern asked me as I absentmindedly checked for stray hairs I may have missed during his haircut.

“Hmmm?” I hadn’t really been listening, I was so caught up in just cutting his hair. I seem to cherish these simple moments more now since the wreck.

“The scar on the back of my head. Can you still see it?”

I ran my finger along the 4 inch scar at the back of his head, remembering days not so long ago when it was nearly twice that length and raised up off his scalp in a ridge that would oftentimes spontaneously open up and ooze some sort of left over Oklahoma dirt crud that had been ground into his skull during those barrel rolls with our camper last year.

“Yep. It’s still there, but not so obvious anymore.”

I was pleased that it was well-healed now and less likely to do the crud oozing thing anymore. But Vern was disappointed, which made me laugh for a minute. What is it with men and their devotion to scars? Or maybe it’s just my man who loves his scars?

“I hope I get to keep these scars in heaven.” He said with a sigh.

And in that moment, I finally understood at least this one thing about the critter God had given to me as a husband. Vern’s scars are proof to him that he is stronger than what tries to kill him. And that knowledge gives him the courage he needs to rise up and be the warrior God intended for him to be.

Scars don’t do that for me. I carry most of my scars deep inside where nobody can see them. Scars of grief. Hurt. Regret. Loss.

To be completely transparent with you, I have to say that there are many scars I’ve got lurking about inside. And I think, sweet ones, if you are honest with yourselves, you would admit you have many scars too. Perhaps someone precious to you has died. Or a friendship that should never have ended went up with a “poof”. Maybe you were betrayed by a fellow Christian and it left you confused and hurt. Or you have set up housekeeping in a pit of depression and lost all hope that you will ever get out of there. Pieces of your heart scattered to the wind.

And then you convince yourselves (or at least I do) that those scars have all healed nicely. And then something happens to remind you of that scar, and it starts slowly oozing crud again.

What do you do?

Well, I’ll tell you what I do. First, I cry a little. Well, maybe a lot. Because I’m a girl and that’s what we do first off.

But the next step—now don’t miss this one—the very next step is that I go to The One who knows all about scars. I go to Jesus. I dump the whole load on Him. I just keep throwing those oozing scars at His feet and He pours His grace over them every single day for as long as I need Him to do it. Because He specializes in healing Wounds of the Heart.

And then one day you realize that those scars don’t ooze much anymore.

And then one day you realize that Jesus turned the scar into a shield against the things of this world that strain to beat you down and steal your joy.

And then one day you discover that you encourage others by telling them about that scar.

And you find yourself stumbling to your feet, determination flaring from your eyes, and a sly grin on your face that tells the world you have found your purpose, and it’s not to stand in a corner hiding from battles.

Your purpose is to rise up and be the warrior that God intended for you to be.

And it was those oozing scars laid at Jesus’ feet that got you to understand who you are. A child of The King. Loved by Him beyond all comprehension. A Warrior for Christ.

So rise up now! Take your place! The scars—both the healed ones and the oozing ones--are part of who you are!

Scars are most certainly a distinct feature of The One who died for us. By His wounds we are healed (Isaiah 53:5b). So find your way to the great physician. Ask Him to heal you and find your place among those who were lost but are now found. It is time.