On this, the last day of 2014, I consider what matters.
At this moment, I am on a medicine called Triazolam because in about half an hour, I go to my dentist to end the year with not one, but two root canals. During one of those, he will remove a stainless steel cap that has been over my molar for over a decade, nearly two. There may not be a tooth under there. Who knows?
Teeth matter. I should stop abusing them with soda and sugar.
Triazolam matters. If I wasn't on this, I wouldn't be able to go through with dental appointments.
Vision matters. Without it, I wouldn't be able to function well in the world I live in. Right now I can't seem to focus on anything further than the computer screen. If I do venture a look at the tv, I find myself asking which one is the real tv.
Perspective matters. The way we view an object or person is essential to the way that we treat them. Lately I find that I have been treating most people, and some objects, with remarkable amounts of disdain.
Disdain - feeling that someone is unworthy of your consideration or respect.
I've not often thought of myself as high amongst men, but I am guilty of thinking that others are the lowest among then. I am a Judgy McJudgerson. You should read the post I wrote on our way to MT. You will know in an instant the bitterness and hatred I feel in my heart.
Disdain matters. Because it's the exact opposite of what my God would teach me is correct.
God matters. In recent months I've allowed myself to fall into a passive relationship with Him. He's kind of like that brother I super love but don't often speak about. God has once again become a "Maybe you should stay over here and I'll just be doing my own thing" type of God.
God matters, because without Him, I am the ultimate dill weed.
Here's that thing I wrote on the way to MT for Chistmas:
I got off facebook a few weeks ago because I noticed myself being filled with rage at some of the things I was seeing. That isn't necessarily the problem of the poster, but the reader. So I deactivated for a bit. the reality is, though, that facebook is the easiest way for me to communicate to my east coast family. And so I signed on once more.
Not five minutes later, I saw a picture: It was a Christmas tree. It was presents. It was one particular present. And then I saw red.
Stories from the man's childhood are typically tragic and usually connected with an object of some kind. I don't think I need to speak again about the Legos. There was another story he told me, about a beloved stuffed animal, a favorite present: a giant dinosaur from The Land Before Time.
It was cherished. It was loved. And, for no particular reason, it was unceremoniously tossed for the sake of convenience without regard to the feeling of the owner, a young boy who'd already had to experience more tragedy in his few years on earth than some people experience at all.
I'm no stranger to favorite childhood toys being pulled from your arms and thrown away or, in my case, tossed into a fire. I had a favorite Cabbage Patch doll. Her name was Esther Lyn. She was one of those "preemie" dolls with a bald head, and she smelled like baby powder. I remember one year for our churches Harvest Party, I dressed up as the biblical Esther, but I carried my doll with me and told everyone that I was "Esther Lyn."
That doll was with me when my parents split up, when we moved from Texas to Virginia, in a time when I, as a young girl, couldn't fully comprehend what was happening to my family.
Then one day, a few years later, we joined a homeschool group that mistakenly believed that inanimate objects could be possessed by demons or have demonic influence. One night, we went to our friends house for a bonfire, where instead of wood for burning, it was Care Bears and My Little Ponies and rock and roll albums, and secular books. It was troll dolls, and board games and movies. It was cabbage patch dolls.
It was Esther Lyn.
One of the many differences between the man and me - he acknowledges what happened and moves on. Not so for me. I am still standing at the bonfire, feeling the injustice done to innocent ones who don't understand. I feel it for myself and I feel it for him. It's a burden I have no right to carry and I should let it go. But I look at him, and imagine that he was the age of my own children when it happened and I was not much older as well. Letting it go becomes much harder with that perspective, especially when no one has any remorse or regret.
There is a verse in the bible that says by showing kindness to your enemies, you will heap burning coals on their heads. Part of me wonders if I can find it in my heart to be kind to my enemies one day.
Because I want to watch them burn.
My word for the New Year is "Active." I want to be active in all areas of my life, but spiritually is the main one. Passive faith is not where it's at, obviously. It hasn't worked for me all year.
I want to actively be a better person than the one in italics, and the only way I know how to do that is to actively pursue the God who is Love and not just wait for a miracle change without actually working toward it.
Pray for me this New Year, and I shall do the same for you.
Happy 2015.
