When you feel like a failure

My life isn't pink. Maybe yours isn't either.

But when Valentine's Day is upon us, it can feel as if we're the only ones not celebrating with all things pink, can't it?

And all the talk of love and sweethearts can make us feel as if we're short on the one thing that the whole world seems to proclaim is all you need.

A world bathed in pink and swathed in roses can make a person feel like an awful failure, you know?

When I want to know more about love, I turn to the passage of scripture that was read at my wedding: I Corinthians 13. I'll bet you've read it:

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 

If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. 

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 

Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  

Love never fails.

And then I really feel like a failure. As much as I may want to exhibit that kind of love, I rarely do so. I wish I could say that I always protect, always trust, always hope, always persevere, but I don't.

But oh, my friend, I have good news. That passage is not about me. It's not about you, either. Our failure is not the point.

That beautiful passage in I Corinthians is a description of God's love for us. The Greek word for this kind of love is ἀγάπη. Written in English, it's agápē.

That's not to be confused with the English word "agape," which, usually referring to the mouth, means "wide open, especially with awe or wonder"—but that's probably how you'll look when you realize the kind of love that God has for you.

It's a funny thing: we often quote verses like John 3:16, but we sometimes have difficulty realizing that God's love applies to us. But it does. God loves YOU, God loves me, God loves us all with a love that never fails.

That's the kind of love God wants to share with us. So that very same word, agápē, is listed as the first fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22. The good news is that we don't have to manufacture this kind of love; the Holy Spirit will produce it in us. 

My friend Dallas Willard said it best, I think:

"We must understand that God does not "love" us without liking us - through gritted teeth - as "Christian" love is sometimes thought to do. Rather, out of the eternal freshness of his perpetually self-renewed being, the heavenly Father cherishes the earth and each human being upon it. The fondness, the endearment, the unstintingly affectionate regard of God toward all his creatures is the natural outflow of what he is to the core - which we vainly try to capture with our tired but indispensable old word 'love.'" (The Divine Conspiracy)

God is this kind of love (see I John 4:8), and God shares this love freely with us. We are not failures; we are beloved children of God. 

Now that word would make a good Valentine's Day treat, wouldn't it?

Much love to you!

Not quite happily ever after

Today is a special day at our house: it's my husband's birthday.

Jack and I have been married 30 years. Can you believe it? Here we are on the day we got married:

Obviously, we were only 12 years old.

Seriously, I never would have thought that 30 years could pass so quickly. So many milestones celebrated together. For 30 years now we've been together for every birthday, every holiday, every celebration. So much to celebrate together!

And for 30 years now we've been together for every bad day, every argument, every illness, every death. So much to suffer together!

Because both the good and the bad are part of life together: the happy and the sad, the peaceful and the angry, the elated and the devastated.

Little girls like fairy tales, most of which begin with "Once upon a time" and end with "they lived happily ever after." Unfortunately, many of us grow up without realizing that real life can't be a fairy tale--not even if we have a handsome prince.  "Happily ever after" isn't reality.

But today, on my dear husband's birthday, I'm thinking that "happily ever after" is close to the truth of a good marriage. Change one little letter and you've got the secret.

How about this?  "They lived happily even after."

In marriage we pledge to love and to cherish one another "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health."

Perhaps you've heard the old joke that goes, "I took her for better or for worse, but she's worse than I ever took her for." Yes. Well, aren't we all?

But by God's grace, we can live happily even after. After sickness, after poverty, after worse difficulties than we ever imagined.

Even after whatever comes our way, whatever we stumble into, and whatever we bring upon ourselves, we can live happily. It's not just another fairy tale.  For we "can do all things through Christ who strengthens us" (Philippians 4:13).

Are you living happily even after?

I'm joining:

Thought-Provoking Thursday with Lyli Dunbar
Tell His Story with Jennifer Dukes Lee
Coffee for Your Heart with Holley Gerth

A message from Chapel Hill

My community has been the focus of national and international news this week, for a horrible reason.

When my husband and I checked email just after dinner on Tuesday night, February 10, this message appeared:

screenshot from my computer

You can imagine our concern as we hurriedly texted our son Preston, who is a senior at UNC-Chapel Hill, and our relief in discovering that he was alive and well.

That relief never came to the parents of UNC dental student Deah Shaddy Barakat or the parents of his wife Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha and her sister Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha.

The site of the killings is about 15 minutes from my house, in an apartment complex close to the UNC campus.

The scenery in this part of the world is lovely, almost idyllic--and usually peaceful.  But not this week. This week our community has been shaken to its core by the actions of a criminal.  As the story unfolds, we've learned that Craig Stephen Hicks, who turned himself in to police, has had long-running disputes with his neighbors over--get this--parking.  

Parking is, of course, a big deal around here.  We live right in the middle of university country, with Duke University on one side and UNC-Chapel Hill on the other.  With many thousands of students and thousands more faculty and staff, parking is at a premium in many parts of our community.  The apartment complex where the victims and the killer lived had limited parking, and the killer had a history of becoming visibly angry over parking disputes.  He had reported parking violations so often that a local towing company had finally made a policy of not responding to his calls to have cars towed.  

But seriously. . . parking?  Mr. Hicks was angry enough about parking that he killed three people in cold blood?

We may never know the issues lurking in this man's heart and mind.  What little we do know so far comes in part from his own Facebook page, where he proclaims himself not just an atheist but an anti-theist.  It would appear that he hated religions of all kinds.  His victims were faithful Muslims, so perhaps his passions were fueled by hatred of their religion.  

A number of people around the globe have called upon American authorities to denounce the murders as "hate crimes," which are officially defined as "criminal offenses against a person or property motivated in whole or in part by an offender's bias against a race, religion, disability, ethnic origin, or sexual orientation" (www.fbi.gov).  In this case, it would appear that the crime was motivated at least in part by the offender's bias against the fact that the victims were religious, although it's unclear whether he had a bias against their particular religion.

As I've wept and prayed along with everyone else in this part of the world, I've reflected on the fact that the heart of the matter really IS hate.  Whether this crime should officially be labeled a "hate crime" is for authorities to decide, but it is without a doubt a crime full of hate.  

"Hate" is a word that's bandied about often in our world.  Perhaps I'm naive, but I'm always  surprised how often the word "hate" is used in everyday conversation.  Around here, fans of Duke University will say that they hate UNC, and UNC fans will say that they hate Duke.  In fact, UNC's alma mater usually ends with the chant "Go to hell, Duke!" instead of "Rah, rah, rah!" While I understand intense rivalries, particularly in sports, I'm still amazed that such vitriolic verbiage is the norm. 

Of course, it's not against the law to hate.  In a society like the U.S., where personal freedoms are guaranteed by the Constitution, people may hate something or someone as much as they like, provided that they do not act on that hate to do harm.

But my heart is heavy at the thought of how much this atmosphere of hatred must grieve the heart of God and how much damage is done to our society when we not only tolerate but sometimes champion hate.  

As a Christian, my charge is clear.  To love, not to hate, is my calling.  

When Jesus was asked which commandment is most important, He answered, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no commandment greater than these." (Mark 12:30-31)

In talking with His closest friends just before His death, Jesus said:  "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another:  just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. 
By this all people will know that you are my followers--if you have love for one another."  (John 13:34-35)

And one of Jesus's disciples later wrote: "Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.  He who does not love does not know God, for God is love."  (I John 4:7-8)

With such violent acts as those perpetrated in Chapel Hill this week, it would be easy for us simply to despair about the state of our world.  But God calls us not to despair.  He calls us to be world-changers, wherever we are.  How? By loving God first and by loving our neighbors.  All of them.  #AllLivesMatter to God.

I may not be able to influence public policy, but I can love my black, Latino, and Asian neighbors. I can love my Muslim, Buddhist, and Hindu neighbors.  I can love my disabled neighbors.  I can love my gay neighbors and my straight neighbors.  I can even love those neighbors who choose to hate me because I am different from them.  And in so doing, I can change my own little corner of the world.  Even if hate still reigns in my community, there will be love mixed in.

Thank God, I'm not left to try to summon up these traits under my own power.  Neither are you. These things we need are the fruit of the Spirit that lives in us (Galatians 5:22).

I'm convinced, even in dark days like this: hate will not prevail.

What do you think?

A time of being unplugged

Life can be complicated, can't it?

Work to do.  Children to parent.  Homes to run.  Projects to finish.  It's easy to feel as if every hour of every day is filled to overflowing, with absolutely no time for some really important things.

Like tending to relationships.  Building partnerships.  Celebrating love.

But this past weekend, I put aside everything else and flew off spend the weekend with my sweetheart. You see, Jack's been working in Canada quite a bit lately.  Last week he was working in Toronto; this week he's working in Vancouver.  So instead of his flying to North Carolina for a few hours at home, I flew to Toronto to be with him.

Canada?  In January?  Don't I know that January calls for visits to places like the Caribbean?  Well, yes, I know that.  But Jack wasn't in the Caribbean.  He was in Canada.  And the locale is not nearly so important as the company.

So we walked and talked and laughed and shopped and visited museums and ate wonderful food.  We did touristy things like going to the top of the CN Tower, where Jack snapped this photo of me:

Look at those rosy cheeks!  That's what happens when you walk around Toronto in January!

We even tried taking an iPhone photo of ourselves:

Clearly, we need to get our children to teach us how to do this.

There's one thing I didn't do this weekend, though.  I didn't do anything related to my blog.  To be honest, I didn't really plan that.  In fact, I took my computer with me, but I left in my carry-on bag the entire time I was in Toronto.  It's not that I needed a break from blogging.  It's just that I needed concentrated time with my husband--the kind of time we simply can't have if I'm glued to my computer.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my computer.  I love all the things I can do with it.  But this weekend, it was good for my computer to be nothing more than a weight in my suitcase.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven (Ecclesiastes 3:1). 

How about you?  Do you ever unplug from one activity in order to plug into another?  I'd love to hear about it!

**I'm sharing this with Amanda at Serenity Now for her Weekend Bloggy Reading party.**

A fitting tribute

Today is Tuesday, and I'm feeling so much better. I'm eating real food and so far my stomach is cooperating, thank God. Thank you so much to everyone who left me a note of encouragement!
Yesterday I missed the special celebration in honor of our dear friend Blake Hubbard's 15th birthday. I was so sad to miss it. But I got to see part of it, and I want to share that with you. If you need a bit of inspiration, take the time to watch this video. You'll be glad you did.




**This video was made by Inkspot Crow Films. If you're in need of your own documentary about love, I urge you to check them out. Philip and Mackenzie are delightful. They're based in Durham, North Carolina, but they're willing to travel. Their work is amazing!

A story of true love

On Saturday, January 28, one of my youngest son's best friends, Blake Hubbard, was killed in a tragic accident. We were privileged to know Blake for ten years and to live right next door to him for seven years.

No one tells Blake's story better than his cousin Jennifer at Dear Lillie; if you haven't already seen it, you should read her post.

A couple of mornings after Blake died, I came into the kitchen to find this on the table where we keep the Scrabble board:

"There are only two B's on a Scrabble board," Lee explained. So he used a blank tile to create a monument to his friend.

Months ago I showed you the new bed Lee and I made for his room. Now his room includes a little memorial to Blake:

In the hours immediately after Blake's death, Lee said, "It seems like the whole world should stop." Jack and I had to agree with him.

The world doesn't stop, though, and Blake's family can keep going even in the face of such tragedy because of one thing: love. True love. Not the so-called love that we sometimes celebrate on Valentine's Day, but the love of God that never fails. That love prompted God to walk the very path our neighbors have had to walk this week: the death of a beloved son. But because of that love, we know that Blake is safe now, and that we will see him again.

Human love is strong and powerful. Many times it is triumphant and inspiring. We sing about it and celebrate it. But sometimes it fails. The love of God never, ever fails.

I had gathered the supplies to make this pillow 10 days ago; yesterday I finally got around to finishing it. Tomorrow I'll post a tutorial on making the pillow--it's simple and easy and inexpensive. Maybe you, too, could use a constant reminder that the love of God never fails.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Paul's 1st letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 13

Love to you, my dear friends.

I love Paris in the springtime. . .

Not that I've ever been there in the fall, mind you, but it was pretty spectacular in May and early June. A few photos for those of you who have asked:

Notre Dame--love those flying buttresses

breathtaking stained glass at Sainte Chapelle

the Venus de Milo up close and personal at the Louvre

and the Mona Lisa not quite so close

(My husband had me turn my head to the right and my eyes to the left,

just like hers. What do you think?)

The Orangerie, a beautiful little gem of a museum,

where I just stood speechless at the sight of Monet's work.

a little bit of the gardens at Versailles

and a bit more

a shot of the Arc de triomphe at night

and one taken from the Arc de triomphe at night

A kind fellow tourist snapped this of the two of us.

Dear friends from church stayed at our house with our boys while we spent a week in Paris. I'm still pinching myself, wondering if it was just a dream after all.

Now please tell me: do you like to travel? Do you ever go on special trips for special occasions? What's your favorite place to visit?

Changing perspective

"Pride goeth before a fall." You know that proverb--your grandma quoted it to you, maybe even the whole thing from Proverbs: "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall (Proverbs 16:18)."

Uh, oh.

I wasn't prideful about going to Paris. I was humbled and excited at the prospect of this long-awaited anniversary trip with the love of my life. Oh, no, it wasn't that. It was how I was going to look on this trip that was my downfall.

I was not going to be just one more tourist in shorts and T-shirts, looking more as if I were headed for the gym than for some of the most beautiful and famous museums and palaces and churches in the world. I was going to treat my host city and its residents respectfully, and I was going to look tres chic while I was at it. So I carefully, lovingly, pridefully packed darling little summer dresses and comfortable but cute sandals. I even got a pedicure before I left. I meant business.

You know what's coming. On the third night of our trip, just before bed, I ran to the bathroom. And my right foot had a fight with the door facing. I'm ashamed to admit that a not-very-nice word escaped my lips as I sat down. Man, that hurt. And it hurt even worse the next morning to discover that my little toe was a sickening shade of purple--almost black.

Yep, I went to Paris with my cute clothes and shoes and proceeded to break my toe.

Luckily, I have experience with toe-breaking, my youngest son having done it twice before. I wasn't really alarmed as I iced it and elevated it and took ibuprofen--just in pain. But I certainly wasn't going to sit around in the hotel room. So I visited some of the most beautiful and famous museums and palaces and churches in the world wearing tennis shoes.

Here, for instance, in the hall of mirrors at Versailles. That would be me wearing jeans and tennis shoes in the palace.

Oh, well. My pride suffered more than my toe, as it turned out. My husband was a good sport about hailing cabs and matching his pace to my hobbling gait. My toe is mostly well now--the swelling is gone, and the bruises have faded to shades of grey and green.

And there was one good by-product of my pain. One afternoon we sat down on a park bench near the Eiffel Tower so that I could rest. My sweet husband said, "Why don't you just lie down? Put your feet up." So I did. Right there in the middle of Paris, I lay down on a park bench.

And I discovered that the view from a humble perspective was a good one.

--Unwrapped with Emily at Chatting at the Sky