The plungers emerged cold yet transformed. I wanted that, too. *** This New Year’s Day, I planned my exit strategy to a T. Bikini for easy removal. Two towels held up by my dad and husband so I could strip off the icy swimsuit. A quick towel dry and shuffle into a dry fleece shirt and snow pants. Shake the tiny pebbles from between my toes, then put on socks, rain boots. Parka over all of it for the walk back to the car. I did not plan what to do when I hit the water. Tiny snowflakes fluttered by almost imperceptibly. Blink and you’d miss them. Lake water in the low 40s. Pine trees dusted with snow. I gave a quick wave to my family and heard the countdown. No time to think or second guess. Three…two…one! The whistle sounded and I shuffled and almost stumbled as I dove in. I didn’t register cold, just shock, transition. I had wanted to stay in longer, but the participants around me were already running back to shore. I stood up and my hands burned, the air felt scalding, not cold. But my breath didn’t catch. I was awake and alive. I did the thing! I moved toward the discomfort on purpose! Quite literally plunged in and came out the other side. Do I have the resolve to stay? *** I’m a sucker for a tangible metaphor. My own mental health journey (and life!) requires sitting with discomfort. I wonder if cold plunging can help me strengthen my discomfort muscles. If I purposefully choose to move toward the hard, will I be more equipped to handle the hard I don’t get to choose? I return to the lake alone a few days later, determined to stay in the water for more than a few seconds. I know others who use the time in the water to focus on their breathing, to meditate, to pray. I pull up a poem I wrote on my phone, aptly titled, Tenacious Surrender. Sun bathes the beach with a glowy winter light that I am tempted to bat at like a cat. I shrug out of my coat and the icy wind blasts my bare skin. I step slowly into the frigid water until I am up to my neck with only my mittened hands and face exposed. I read,
Light waves lap against my chest as I bob in the water, living into my own words and imagery.
The words and water wash over me like a prayer:
The skin on my stomach, my arms, my legs screams and prickles, while I turn my face to the sun and heat spreads across my cheeks. I am struck by the contrast: warmth and cold together. How I’m holding them both, Together. I think of how God has held me in my own journey of self-acceptance and becoming a safe harbor. Through the cold and warmth, the dark and light. How I’ve been writing poetry, but He’s been speaking through me. The journey to love myself has really just been a return to knowing who I’ve been all along: loved by God. I can’t help but laugh at the improbability of it all. Me, a San Diego girl. The girl who loves sunshine and palm trees, hot tubs, and the smell of sunscreen. Before we moved, God showed me a verse.
Never did I imagine I would willfully submerge in near-freezing water and experience peace. Experience God. Never did I imagine this wilderness would make me new. I think that’s the point. You see, God doesn’t make something new just once, but is continually making all things new. Expanding our views of love and life to the full. Even my tolerance for cold. Even my definition of prayer. God can use any unlikely event to point us back to his goodness. I’m curious, where have you been made new? How is God surprising you lately? In His Name, Aly
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local musicians' generous gift of time and talent. I spent a whole class period with every grade level, covering MLK and his vision, underscoring the importance of kindness, getting along with others whether you like them or not, and singing the songs. One of my favorite parts of the lesson was a short video clip from a child who called himself Kid President, telling us to treat everyone every day like it’s their birthday. I love that we, as teachers, influencers, role models, parents, and citizens, get a whole day to focus on the importance of striving for a peaceful existence with others in a far-from-calm world. Finding the good, being grateful for all things, and adjusting quickly and without unnecessary drama when life doesn’t go as planned takes a lot of practice. Teaching children these skills is crucial to living a more peaceful life, and I’m glad I get to participate in it each year. Our performance went without a hitch; 28 kids felt like movie stars on the big stage at NIC in front of 800 people, and they now think we need a live band for all future performances. 🙂
Love. Ahhhh. Valentine’s Day is my favorite day of the year. I love everything about it. Adding to my love of the day is that I see ~450 kids a week, and they bring me cards, pictures, chocolate, and candy hearts (well, I take back my previous statement. I do not like candy hearts). I know I’m preaching to the choir here (which I also do every Thursday night at 6:30 if you’d like to come and join us!), but real love has nothing to do with the tangible things we receive on the celebrated day. Real love is the guy that gets up every morning and makes the coffee just the way I like it, makes sure the car is full of gas every week because I don’t particularly like doing it myself, makes dinner every night because I have piano students until 7, fills out the FAFSA forms every year, does all of the taxes because I only like spending the money, not keeping track of it, brings me home a cinnamon roll that I don’t have to share with anyone from the Saturday Morning Men’s Breakfast Club, and never complains about anything. It’s the worker at the grocery store who just seems to be able to tell that if you get beeped one more time at the self-check kiosk, you’ll be leaving with no groceries at all and offers to finish scanning all of your items. Love is the classroom aide who steps in to help the child who is utterly irate at not getting to play the triangle on every single song. My world is FULL of love. Sometimes, you just have to learn how to look for it differently. Landfill Joy. For some reason, probably because I don’t do taxes, I’ve always been the family member who takes care of everything regarding the dump or the landfill, as it’s ceremoniously referred to here in CdA. I’ve been to these locations in Illinois, Missouri, Colorado, and Idaho. If you’ve never been to the landfill here, you have no idea what you are missing. It’s like the Queen of all landfills. There are huge containers labeled for all the recycling, large signs giving directions for whatever type of treasures you are discarding, and people around to help or answer questions. It’s like the post office - they always know the answer and have what you need. However, my favorite people at the landfill are the workers at the beginning and the end. These workers are the friendliest, happiest people you’ll meet daily. I go often enough that some of the regulars recognize me. We discuss the license plate on my car, the weather, where on earth I could come up with this much cardboard, and how I got it in my vehicle…you know, essential things in daily life. Their job is not glamorous. Sometimes it’s cold. Sometimes it’s hot. Sometimes, their sleeves are soaked from reaching out in the rain to give you the little pink card. (I love the card - it tells you not to put it in your mouth on the back side). Regardless of the conditions, they are joyful. They have found a way to enjoy what they do, the people they encounter, and the smells they breathe all day. It’s amazing. I consider myself a reasonably joy-filled person, but if I worked at the landfill, I imagine I’d have to dig a lot deeper when people start bringing in their Christmas trees and the line is backed up for a mile on Ramsey Blvd. Every time I leave the dump, I’m reminded to find the joy. I think they should have personnel at the glass recycling bin across the street so I could interact with them there, too. It’s all in your perspective. In His name, Renee
Matthew 15:17-19 states, “Do you not understand that whatever goes into the mouth passes into the stomach and is eliminated? But whatever (word) comes out of the mouth comes from the heart and this is what defiles and dishonors us”. So perhaps in layman’s terms this is saying “keep your words soft and sweet, someday you may have to eat them”; but it does not say bury your feelings.
Acts 18:9-10 tells us, “Do not be afraid, but go on speaking and do not be silent, for I am with you”. So let’s go back to silence equaling complicity. How wonderfully fortunate we are to have a God that states “I am with you” in our daily lives and in our vocal expressions. In James 1:19-20 we read, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires”. Notice the first advice here is to be quick about listening, then slow to speak, and slow to anger. Part of our “speaking out” has to be the great skill of listening as stated in this chapter in Acts. If we only speak and do not listen, we are missing 50% of the equation for honest and open communication. With God’s grace and guidance while moving forward with our “Love First” mission, we can listen and speak up in a manner that will benefit us all. In His name, Craig
animals were donated from various families or training stables. Mostly retired show horses that the owners could not bear to put down but were well past any use. The idea of their beloved horse roaming in some beautiful pasture, ministering to a troubled youth was a lovely picture. The reality was many of the horses were not fit to be around youth, especially those with trouble regulating their emotions. We received many a temperamental horse that would rather kick a kid than let them go for a ride.
So, it was no big surprise when one nice, fall day we had a group of excited board members and donors show up with a new set of horses. The trailer backed up and Dean and I were standing by with lead ropes and fresh stalls ready for our next set of retired show horses. Out stepped two breathtaking Friesian horses with their manes flowing in the wind, Sonny and Carla. We were encouraged that these were not the normal worn-out show horses so often donated to the ranch. Friesians are an expensive breed of draft horse known for their beauty and gentleness. Our board members were very excited that such expensive horses had been donated to the ranch and we were instructed to give Sonny and Carla nothing but the best of care and attention. The hope was that Sonny and Carla would be used to teach youth how to ride and to train the pair to pull carriages for ranch events. The next week we started work by doing simple ground exercises with each horse to get to know them better. Sonny was a younger male who wanted to be the boss and Carla was the older mare who was the boss. The two were inseparable, but they would push each other around nonstop. Carla by herself was a wonderful horse and took to training well. She was often used in lessons and we could always count on her to be gentle and patient. The problem was Sonny, being the bigger horse, thought he should be treated with all the respect he demanded without being expected to do any work. Sonny was gentle and would never kick or bite, he would simply refuse to move. Sonny would literally throw his weight around until he got his way. The only person who could handle him was my husband, which made Sonny useless around the kids. We still had hope of the pair being able to be a team and pull a carriage. We were making some progress with Sonny and Carla, but more often than not we would have to separate Sonny to work out his attitude. One night we had worked with Sonny, and he seemed ready to cooperate. So, we harnessed the pair together in the arena for a short lesson. I held the reins from the ground on the inside while we worked to get the pair to walk in a circle together. They walked successfully around me a few times and we were just about to end the lesson when Sonny got in a mood. He stopped working, refused to go forward, and began backing up. In a stubborn fit, Sonny backed up, threw his weight around, and sat down, pulling the harness and bit down on Carla. I could tell Carla was hurt by her dazed expression, and Dean and I rushed to get Sonny up and tend to Carla. We got the pair unhooked, Sonny secured, and we were by Carla’s side all in a minute. When we reached Carla, to my horror, I saw that her tongue was severed almost in half from Sonny’s weight coming down on her bit. Thankfully the vet was able to come quickly and Carla was able to fully heal in time. Sonny had gotten his way again and he couldn’t care less about the damage done to Carla. This was a real-life lesson I will never forget of what unequally yoked looks like. In the Bible, there are a few passages that sound so harsh, one of which is in 2 Corinthians 6, where the Apostle Paul makes a reference to not being unequally yoked to someone. Some have interpreted this to mean exclusion or the ostracizing of others, that somehow, as believers, we should stay away from unbelievers, the typical us vs. them interpretation. These kinds of interpretations are the type of lazy theology that leads to self-righteousness. Instead, let’s consider Sonny and Carla’s saga. After the accident, we did not keep Sonny and Carla separate, because they were friends. But we no longer trusted Sonny to be a teammate with Carla. Sonny refused to share the load with Carla and he always put himself first. As a believer, there are many people I cannot cut out of my life because they are my people, and I love them. They are friends, family, and neighbors. Yet some of these dear people are not my teammates. They push and pull for their own needs and rarely have the capacity to consider my needs. I can spend time with these loved ones, but when I need a teammate for heavy spiritual lifting, they are not the ones I call on. I call on the people in my life who are willing and able to pull with me. I look for those who understand the yoke of Christ and know how to use it. Prayer warriors who pray, teachers who have wisdom, friends willing to work through hard times, and compassionate people who know when to put others first. If I yoke myself to someone who is not able to pull those kinds of loads with me then one or both of us is bound to get hurt. As you read through 2 Corinthians 6, ask God to give you insight into the people in your life who are able to be good spiritual teammates for times when you have a heavy spiritual burden. Allow those people in when the load gets heavy. Love those who, for whatever reason, are not able to be equally yoked at this time. After all, God loves them as much as He loves you. In His Name, Bonnie |
