Do my contributions to the world matter?

“I listened to Skillet during my run this morning,” Dan said.  “But they just don’t do it for me anymore.” 

A discussion about music, and my husband’s comment in particular, got my wheels turning about the contributions we make to the world while we are here.  At first, I was a little offended for Skillet.  I mean, they are a great band whose songs have impacted me at times in the last several years. 

Then it occurred to me that most songs have a season in my life.  They have meaning because of what I’m experiencing at the time.  I can listen to them years later and still enjoy them but not be as affected by them. 

I thought, “How depressing for music artists!  They present these songs out of their own passion, and think of how few continue to move people for decades, years or even months?”  

This led me to think about my own shared gifts.  People have told me they were influenced by things I wrote, but I never stopped to think how long that influence lasts.  It is most likely short-lived. 

Does it matter?  Should we stop producing because there’s no longevity to it? 

Consider the farmer.  He labors over his fields, tending to them with care and passion, just as artists pour themselves into a song or a painting.  After weeks or months of hard work, he produces a crop which is then consumed, and his influence lasted minutes, at best.  And yet that influence was crucial; it was necessary nutrition. 

As artists, I think we should view our work like that of a farmer.  We produce a crop, and it is consumed.  Some will enjoy it; some will not.  Some will be fed with nutrients for their soul.  Or maybe it was intended for just one person.  Either way, it is life-giving and important, if only for a short season. 

Sunday Morning: A God Adventure

I had two choices yesterday morning.  One was to go to church, as I always do on Sunday mornings.  And that is precisely what I wanted to do.  We have a fabulous new preacher whose messages have been powerful for me lately.  I didn't want to miss that!  However, my best friend was participating in her first triathlon, and she had invited me to watch.  I knew she wanted me to be there, so I started praying about where God wanted me to be.      When the alarm went off in the morning, I did NOT want to get up.  I was bone tired, yet I could not go back to sleep.  Something (or more likely Someone) was nagging me to get up.  So I got up and got ready, but I was moving slowly.  I had aimed to get out the door by 6:45, but it was almost 7 when I did.  Heading down the road, I realized I forgot my coffee at home...catastrophe!  So I took a slight detour to McDonald's to grab some much needed caffeine.  One of my daughter's friends was working the drive thru window.  No one was behind me - not very many people up at that hour on Sundays, I guess - so we had to chat for a bit.   I was already running late, and it now appeared doubtful that I would get there before the start time.   I recently burned copies of our new pastor's sermons on CDs, so I popped one in on the way.   My spirits were lifted by the time I arrived, only to find I would have to park at least 1/2 mile away, and it was raining.  It was almost 7:30, and I knew if I ran to the park, I *might* get to see my friend before she got in the water.  I prayed again for direction and felt compelled to sit in the car and listen to the rest of the sermon.  So I did, which took about 10 minutes, and by then the rain had stopped.   I made my way to the park, thinking it would be impossible for me to find anyone I knew in the crowd of people, and dreading the thought of watching alone.  God took care of it.  The first people I saw were my friend's daughters and in-laws.  I enjoyed their company, and we had a lot of fun cheering and entertaining ourselves.   Shortly after we got there, my friend came out of the water.  She lit up when she saw me, and immediately I was glad I went.  When she had finished the triathlon, she hugged me and started crying.  She said it meant so much to her that I came.  I apologized for not being there before it started, and she said, "Oh, I'm so glad you weren't!  I was so emotional, I would have bawled if I saw you!"  God knew.   By the time I got back to my car, I thought I might still be able to make it to church.  I would probably be a little late, but I could slip in and stand in the back, and still hear the sermon at least.  I don't know why, but my car didn't head that direction.   I pulled out of my parking spot and was mentally thinking, I have to turn around to go back the way I came.  But for some weird reason, I didn't.  I started heading out of town on a road I didn't know.  It just looked really pretty, and I thought, well maybe I'll just take an exploratory drive.   Now, you have to understand, this is SO not me.  I have no sense of direction, I did not have a GPS or a map, and I had no clue where this road was going to take me.  This is terribly uncharacteristic of me, and I'm still a little surprised at myself.  I popped in another sermon and drove.   I was ridiculously rewarded by the view.  Stunning.  Weaving through the hills, there were gorgeous views on every side of me.  I started winding up one very high hill with tight turns and steep inclines.  I had no idea where I was going, but I was sure enjoying the ride.  At the top of the hill, the road narrowed to a very tight spot between basically two walls of rock.  It was really cool but a little scary!  At that moment, I recalled hearing something about a place called the Mindoro Cut.  Apparently that's where I was because eventually I ended up in Mindoro.    There I saw a sign for County Road D.  I thought, hmmmm, I'm not sure, but I think County Road D goes into Holmen.  I turned onto it and was soon on familiar roads.  I pulled into my driveway just as the second sermon was ending on my CD player.   I had read a devotional that morning before leaving home.  It was about joy, particularly the joy found in His presence.  I figured that meant I was supposed to go to church.  Obviously, I enjoyed His presence everywhere else I went.  I'm not quite sure how to describe how He directed me, or maybe it was that I wasn't trying so hard but just going with the flow.  The word "freedom" kept popping into my head on the drive.  Not sure what I'm learning right now, really, but I have to say, the morning was a great adventure.

I'm baaaaaack!

Obviously I haven't blogged for QUITE awhile, but I'm hoping with a renewed focus (accompanied by a schedule and people to hold me accountable to it), I can write here more often.  I won't promise every day, since I'm also continuing to blog at PARENtEEN.

Today's topic:  Acting Our Age

The Bible instructs us to have faith like a child.

Recent observations of women, including myself, reveals most of us acting like children, rather than exhibiting childlike faith.  When we don't get our way, we whine and cry and stomp off to complain to the first person who will listen.  Figuratively, we cross our arms and pout, effectively shutting out any real work God could do in our situation.

Why is our first instinct always to throw up our hands in despair?  Why do we take our anxieties to Facebook before taking them to the Throne of the One who is willing to work things out for our good?

One of Job's friends rightly asked, "Can you fathom the mysteries of God?  Can you probe the limits of the Almighty?" (Job 11:7)  Certainly God is more than capable of handling our puny little problems.

The only reasonable conclusion I am able to come to is that we simply don't trust God, and trust is the cornerstone of childlike faith.

I don't have any answers about how to turn my temper tantrums into moving mountains, so for now, I'll just be thankful for a patient, gentle Father who loves me unconditionally.  But if any of you have wisdom to share, let's hear it!