The Forbidden Fruit

by Joanie Butman

Have there ever been moments in your life when you’ve thought, “Dang that Eve! Couldn’t she have found another snack? If it wasn’t for her act of defiance, we wouldn’t be in this mess. And couldn’t Adam have manned-up when she offered him a bite?” Seriously, as my son would say, “Grow a pair, Dude!” Then again, he’s not married yet.

While I was in London recently I had reason to think about the first couple’s scenario because I was reliving it. Prior to my departure, my husband jokingly gave me this admonition, “No eating at Nobu!” Nobu happens to be one of my favorite restaurants but it is also pricey. It’s the kind of place reserved for special occasions. Bob offered his directive in a ‘half-fun, whole earnest’ sort of way, as my grandmother used to say, meaning “It may sound like I’m kidding, but I couldn’t be more serious.” It is a tack used to take the sting out of whatever unpopular point you’re making. Similar to the current idiom "JK - Just Kidding."

Regardless, probably much like Eve, I put his warning in my databank and took off without giving it a second thought – until we arrived at the hotel and discovered Nobu was right next door. When my daughter and I set out to do some exploring, the first thing I did was have her take a photo of me in front of Nobu to send to Bob as a joke. That was my first mistake: NEVER choose to flirt with temptation. It’s a losing proposition. We went on our merry way and returned a few hours later tired and hungry. On the long walk home, all I could think about was dinner – at Nobu. Mistake number two: NEVER attempt to resist temptation on only a few hours of sleep and an empty stomach.

Predictably, I began the slow slide of justification, which picked up momentum quickly as my daughter tried in vain to talk me out of it.

Mom:   I’m starving. Let’s go to Nobu.

Hannah:   We can’t. Dad said not to.

Mom:   We have to eat somewhere.

Hannah:   But mom, he said no.

Mom:   We won’t eat much.

Hannah:   He’s not going to be happy.

Mom:   He was just kidding. HE ate at Nobu last month, why can’t we? Let’s just see if they have a table.

Hannah:   This is not a good idea.

Mom:   Don’t worry about Dad, he won’t be mad. What’s he going to do?

I could go on, but let’s just say once the idea took hold, I was determined. There was no stopping me, so perhaps I should cut Adam and Eve a little slack. I don’t know if they enjoyed that apple or if they even finished it, but Hannah and I savored every bite. And once we started, we were all in. My ‘we won’t eat much’ flew out the window along with any remnant of self-restraint. It was probably the best meal we had in London and, much to my surprise, no more expensive than the others – but that wasn’t the point was it? The saddest part is, I felt absolutely no remorse for defying my husband’s wishes or setting a bad example for my daughter by not respecting his request. Here was Bob, graciously sending the two of us on a whirlwind trip to London, setting us up in a beautiful hotel with the entire city to explore, and I couldn’t do this one thing for him? Pathetic, I know.

I think it’s safe to say humans haven’t evolved much since the fall. The scenario in the Garden of Eden plays out all day every day in the choices we make along with our roles in the story. Sometimes we’re the snake, sometimes we’re Eve and sometimes we’re Adam – the one that just goes along. But there’s one more character that we all try to be at one point or another whether we choose to admit it or not – God! Regardless of which part you choose on any given day, they all lead to the same end – a deep, dark fall into a miry pit with only one way out. That would be by Christ reaching down and lifting us out with His grace.

So how did Bob react when we emailed him from the hotel describing our feast? With grace, of course, as he usually does. That said, the bill hasn’t arrived yet to let him assess the damage we accumulated on the trip. There’s one thing I’m confident of though with Bob, as well as God – his generosity of spirit knows no bounds and, while he may be disappointed in my lack of self-control towards his wishes, he offers the same kind of loving embrace waiting for all of us from a Father who knows our weaknesses but loves us anyway. I have no idea why, but it’s a beautiful thing. I do know one thing for sure – it has nothing to do with who we are, but everything to do with who HE is.

After all these years, Bob knows me and suffers no delusions about my shortcomings, one of which is my lavish spending habits – not on clothes or jewelry but with respect to food and entertainment. Even while saying it, he knew exactly what I was going to do in London – even though Nobu wasn’t even on my radar at that point. So really, it’s partially his fault right? For planting the seed in my head? (Sick logic I know.) Was this a test? Did Bob know Nobu was just steps away from the hotel? Is that why he warned me? It doesn’t really matter. I failed miserably as I do frequently in resisting the smorgasbord of temptations the world offers. If we are all “sons of Adam and daughters of Eve”*, I truly am my mother’s daughter. I will never be hard on her again.

How do you choose to respond when someone disappoints you? Is grace your default like Bob’s? Mine is usually not, and I’m the supposed ‘mature’ Christian in the family. Go figure!

*C.S. Lewis, The Narnia Chronicles

Friends for Life

by Joanie Butman

One of the best things about my whirlwind tour of London last week was visiting a dear friend who I don’t get to see often. She’s one of those rare individuals you can sit down with after five days or five years and pick up where you left off. To help plan our trip, Cynthia compiled a list of things to do and restaurants to try. Whenever you ask Cynthia for advice, she puts a lot of thought and effort into her response, so I trusted her implicitly and followed her expert guidance to make the most of our short visit. She even pulled off the miraculous – obtaining entrance to Highclere Castle, where one of my favorite TV shows is filmed. Not only that, she was gracious enough to let me nap while she drove us from the airport to Highclere and then into London.

At any rate, with only four days at our disposal, my daughter and I had a lot of territory to cover and hit the ground running. Systematically, we tackled our list of must do’s:

Highclere Castle   √      

Big Ben    √

Westminster   √ 

London Eye    √

National Portrait Gallery   √

Trafalgar Square   √  

Fashionista High Tea   √

Hyde Park    √ 

Kennsington Palace   √

Tower of London   √

Harrods   √

Notting Hill   √    

Victory & Albert Museum   √

Good Friday found me sitting in St. Paul’s Cathedral, which is billed as one of the places of interest in London. Personally, visiting cathedrals isn’t my favorite thing to do as a tourist. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all - though this was the one where Mary Poppins sang Feed the Birds. I remember visiting Rome with my sisters and our tour guide took us into cathedral after cathedral. Seriously, after the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s why bother? At the end of an exhausting day of countless basilicas, Pino was leading us towards yet another church. Well past my cathedral threshold, I blurted out, “Unless this is St. Gelato’s and they’re serving snacks, I’m done.”

In deference to the solemnity of Holy Week, there were no tours at St. Paul’s. Visitors were strongly encouraged to simply sit in prayerful meditation. I noticed that most tourists ignored the request, but my Catholic school background kicked in so I did as I was told and sat there taking it all in. St. Paul’s was quite grandiose, as most cathedrals are, but what touched me deeply was the dichotomy between its grandiosity and the starkness of the rudimentary wooden cross they had erected in the center of the church in commemoration of Good Friday. To me, the contrast epitomized what the Jewish people were expecting their Messiah to look like and what they got. Christ wasn’t locked in the “golden tackle box” (as one of my second grade students referred to the tabernacle). He was on that simple, wooden cross – for me. 

I didn’t stay long, but that site left more of an impression than any other on my checklist. On my way back to the hotel, I walked past Trafalgar Square where they were reenacting The Passion of Christ. I stood in the crowd and watched for a while, did a mental check off my list and continued on my way. I wonder how many travellers did the same in Jerusalem that day, oblivious to the story unfolding before them and the impact it would have for eternity. I thought about how quickly I do the same in my daily life rushing through my checklist. How often do I just sit at the foot of the cross in awe and gratitude for the incredible gift of grace I’ve been given and at what cost? Not nearly enough.

During my brief stop in St. Paul’s I was also thinking about Lent and what an abysmal failure I am each year in observing my Lenten sacrifices. I’m always impressed and more than a little envious when I hear people discussing how they stuck to their Lenten fasts. It’s been years since I’ve succeeded for Lent’s entirety. So why do I choose to continue the exercise year after year? You’d think it would be discouraging, but actually it is an excellent reminder that I can’t do it on my own – not even the little things. If I could, Christ wouldn’t have had to suffer on my behalf. Do I wish I had better self-discipline? Of course, but despite my noble intentions, it's my failures that actually bring me into His presence better than any of my accomplishments because it reminds me that “His grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in weakness.” The more I recognize my need for grace, the greater my understanding of its power and the greater my appreciation of the gift I celebrate on Easter and every day.

Easter may be over as well as my London excursion, but the whirlwind of life continues along with the outpouring of grace that Easter provides. So I choose to start each day in stillness remembering with gratitude that wooden cross in St. Paul’s as the first thing on my checklist every morning.

One last note, not everyone is blessed to have a Cynthia in their lives, but as the song goes, “we all have a friend in Jesus.” He is the friend who is waiting to share everything with you and offer expert guidance in how to live an abundant life during your short time here before you are called home, the one to provide miracles in your life, the one willing to drive when you are too tired or worn out, the one who is the same yesterday, today and forever. Even if it’s been a while since you’ve enjoyed a chat, why not choose to sit a while and rekindle that friendship or maybe begin one? You won’t be disappointed.

Praying Parents

by Joanie Butman

I have a dear friend and fervent prayer warrior with whom I’ve studied the bible for years. Over that time we have shared many prayers for anything and everything. As you might expect within a group of women, many of our prayers revolve around our families. This friend and I have engaged in numerous lively conversations regarding our different approaches to prayer. She prays specific intentions while my prayers are more generic in nature. Bottom line is, there is no right or wrong way to pray. There is no prayer police roaming around ensuring that you adhere to some prescribed pattern or method. The way you communicate with God will be as unique as you are – as will your relationship with Him. The power of prayer comes from our communion with God, not from what we actually say.

Regardless, my friend could never fathom why I wasn’t more purposeful with my prayers – particularly in regard to my children. It baffled her that I wouldn’t pray that my children receive the desires of their hearts or request well-defined results, whether it be for acceptance onto a team, admittance into a particular college or landing a coveted internship. Our discussions went something like this:

You don’t want your children to get the desires of their hearts? NO! If anything, I’d pray they don’t get the desires of their hearts – just because they want it doesn’t mean it’s good for them.

You don’t want your children to get into a specific school or get a specific job?Not necessarily. What they want may not be where God wants them, where they need to be to fulfill His purpose for them – which will be infinitely better than any plan they have in mind.

You don’t pray that your children won’t suffer?NO!

For goodness sake, WHY?

Here’s my logic behind my answers. If my children received all the desires of their hearts without suffering:

1. They would be unbearable to be around because they would probably become the most shallow, entitled individuals.
2. They couldn’t become overcomers without ever having to overcome anything.
3. They couldn’t develop strength or resilience without ever having to exercise it.
4. They couldn’t be prepared for life if they’ve never had to face it.
5. They couldn’t develop a relationship with God without recognizing their need for Him.

So what do I pray for them?

1. I pray that the desires of their hearts be brought in line with the desires of God’s heart for them.
2. I pray for God to grant them wisdom and discernment.
3. I pray for protection – physically and spiritually.
4. I pray for God to draw them closer to Himself.
5. I pray for God to give them enough.

Before I explain what ‘enough’ is, let me point out that the answer to number four is always going to involve pain. You can’t experience spiritual growth or maturity without suffering, and I wouldn’t want my children to miss out on any of God’s many blessings that strangely enough come wrapped in hardship.

My prayer for enough comes from a story by Bob Perks, which I’m sure many of you are familiar with as it is a popular one. In it, an ailing parent says a final good-bye to their adult child at an airport and concludes with a poem of wishes for their life. The one change I’ve made is to substitute the word pray for wish because I don’t think there is anything ‘wishful’ about these requests.

I pray you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I pray you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.

I pray you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I pray you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I pray you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I pray you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I pray you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

Do I need to choose to pray for my children? Do I think God will forget about them if I don’t? Absolutely not. They’re His kids first. He’s just loaned them to me for a short time. However, by choosing to pray on their behalf Iam reminded and comforted that they are under His protection and guidance always, that whatever questionable choices they make, He will never leave them – something we as parents can’t promise.

With Holy Week upon us, I can’t help but think about Jesus & Mary’s final good-bye at the foot of the cross. Some of His last words before He died were to ensure her continued care. As far as Mary is concerned, she watched her child suffer more than anyone on earth will ever have to endure. But look at what Christ accomplished through His suffering. As a parent, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been to bear, but it’s what we do as mothers. We stand with our children in their joys but more importantly – in their pain. Did Mary truly grasp her son’s divine purpose as she watched Him die a horrible death? Probably no more than we can comprehend why God allows suffering or the crazy ways His plans unfold – especially when it involves our children. But even if Mary did understand, would it have been any less painful? Again, absolutely not!

Do you remember Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion? One of the things I liked about it was the unique and heart-warming manner in which he portrays the relationship between Jesus and Mary. Jesus may have been the Son of God, but He was also Mary’s child – the infant she nursed, the baby she comforted, the toddler she watched take His first steps, the boy she watched play with His friends, the youngster she lost in Jerusalem, the apprentice she watched toil alongside her husband, the son she watched grow into a man. Remember, Jesus didn’t leave home until He was 30! I don’t think Mary forgot His lineage for a minute, but the bond between a mother and child can’t be discounted regardless of who that child grows up to be.

As far as I know, there is no indication in scripture that God shared his entire plan with Mary, just her own role in it. God offered Mary the painful privilege of partnering with Him to bring His son into the world. He gives us a similar opportunity to partner with Him in raising our children, but it isn’t easy and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that parenting involves a lot of pain. Watching our children suffer is excruciating. What parent wouldn't gladly take on the pain of their child if they could? Even so, I was reminded yesterday of a quote by Corrie ten Boom, “Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives is the perfect preparation for the future that only He can see.” This is an important truth to cling to when it is difficult to see through to the other side of our children’s pain. Corrie goes on to say, “Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.” Amen to that.

Our children are going to suffer, that’s a fact of life. It would behoove us to prepare them for that reality and to be there for them when it comes. My brother shared this quote with me recently that is spot on: “Our job as parents is not to prepare the road ahead for our children, but to prepare our children for the road ahead.” Unfortunately, too many have lost sight of that wisdom. 

As an infant, when Mary presented Jesus in the temple, in addition to the prophesy she was given about Him, she was also told that “a sword will pierce your own soul too.” And we will suffer the same fate as parents when we watch our children go through their own trials and tribulations. It comes with the territory, which brings us back to where we started – prayer.

Despite our differences in style, my friend and I are in total agreement in choosing to pray for our children because by doing so, it allows me to:

1. Choose to trust that God knows what’s best for them even when it doesn’t seem so.
2. Choose to believe His plan is infinitely better than anything I could ever imagine.
3. Choose to experience His peace and presence amidst chaos.
4. Choose to rely on His promise that He can use anything for good.
5. Choose hope because I know that “with God all things are possible.” My parents can attest to that!

I'll be away next week, so will leave wishing you a Happy and Blessed Easter! For any struggling parents, Easter is the perfect reminder that God can take the ashes of anyone's life and create something beautiful. Choose hope grounded in the redeeming power of God's love that we celebrate this week!

A beautiful song and video to ponder during Holy Week. I hope you take the time to watch.

What If?

by Joanie Butman

Sorry for missing coffee with many of you Sunday morning. Sometimes life has a way of getting in the way of even my best intentions. It wasn’t an exceptionally busy week but still, I was drawing a blank. I couldn’t come up with a topic on which to write. I know, hard to believe, right? You’d think life would give me an endless array of subjects, and it usually does, but apparently God wanted me elsewhere this Saturday.

So where was I? At a workshop called What If? When I arrived, I had no idea what to expect from the day despite working on the logistics of the event over the past few months. Nor did I understand why I arrived with such a heavy heart. The first task the speaker assigned was to answer this question, “Who are you?” Try it. There’s no easy answer. I chose to answer, “I am a child of God.” Sure, I wear lots of hats (wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, writer, etc.), but my identity lies in Christ, not in my performance. In fact, the way I choose to perform any ‘role’ I play is directly related to that answer. Frankly, it’s when I don’t claim that truth first and foremost that I get into trouble, and my ‘performance’ suffers as a result.

The speaker then asked us to call out our answers. Many of them revolved around the different roles and/or responsibilities the audience held. She followed with this question.“Did anyone write down I am amazing, fabulous, beautiful, wonderful, exceptional or extraordinary?” My first thought was, “If I could answer like that, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here.” THAT was my What If? THAT was why I was sitting here on the first beautiful day of spring. So the next obvious question was, “What if I thought I was amazing, fabulous or extraordinary? What would that look like?” To me, for reasons I can’t explain, it would look like conceit. Bingo! No wonder I’ve been stuck listening to the same self-deprecating remarks play over and over again in my head. I don’t know where I picked it up, but somewhere along the line, I learned that feeling good about yourself was not a good thing.

I know I’m not supposed to covet, but this is an area where I’m definitely jealous of people who fully embrace their fabulousness, even if I don’t necessarily agree with their assessment of themselves. I’d rather FEEL fabulous regardless of whether or not I actually am at that moment than BE fabulous and feel anything but.

It’s true that women tend to be their own worst critics, but I’d taken it to a toxic level. The women at my table were gentle and loving, assuring me that the refrain I was listening to in my head was definitely not how they viewed me. I wasn’t fishing for compliments; this unworthiness ran too deep for that. Only the healing power of God’s love could penetrate the darkness that had settled in my soul. So now what?

I needed to revisit my answer, which was instinctive and honest, and carry it one step further. As a child of God, aren’t we all beautifully and wonderfully made? Yes, a thousand times yes!!! He tells us so. What we do may not always be amazing or fabulous, but that doesn’t negate who (or whose) we are. As I let this sink in, that darkness began to dissipate as my spirit began to lift.

At some point in the day, the moderator mentioned a phenomenon where people actually undergo a physical transformation when they let go of emotional baggage, that some even claim that their clothes feel a little loose. I can’t say I felt a size smaller and the spanx I was wearing were starting to make me short of breath, but there was certainly a bounce to my step and a lightness of being as I pressed the stop button on the chorus of negativity I’d been listening to for so long. I know my body hasn’t changed, but my perception of myself certainly has.

The most important takeaway from Saturday was that positivity is a conscious choice.  DUH??? How could I write about choosing wisely while making the decidedly unwise choice of letting negative thoughts distort my self-image, crippling me in the process? Based on my inability to write anything last week, I couldn’t.

The event was billed as a workshop for the soul, though it wasn’t spiritual in nature. I suppose you could choose to make it anything you want, but for me a workshop for the soul has to begin and end with God. Both the leaders are professional life coaches who work with clients in a professional/business capacity as well as individuals on a personal and/or spiritual level. They shared that they don’t work with people to make them more successful, they work with them to help them learn their own value.

Did I leave with an action plan? Nothing earth shattering, but it doesn’t always have to be. The presenters assured us we are all just one defining decision away from change. If I didn’t like what I was hearing, I needed to choose to change the station as quickly as I do when I hear the lyrics to some of my son’s music. Furthermore, in an effort to embrace a more positive self-image, I choose to start each day with “Good morning princess!” After all, if my identity is in Christ, then I’m the daughter of a King and by definition that makes me a princess. Now, what did I do with my tiara?

March Madness

by Joanie Butman

I don’t know where to begin discussing the questionable choices I’ve seen (and made) over my two-week sabbatical - including this banana boat ride. I call it a sabbatical because it provided plenty of opportunity to conduct research on the topic of choosing wisely – or not. I promised my son I wouldn’t reveal any Punta Cana secrets about him or his friends, but that promise doesn’t extend to me. Among the litany of my own dubious decisions over vacation, the first had to be the choice to escort senior high school boys to a country where the drinking age is 18. Miraculously, other than a chipped tooth from an overzealous rendition of the worm (not by me), we all survived relatively unscathed. I even earned a few street creds from the kids for my dance moves – probably not a photo I’d choose to share with the parents of the boys under my supervision who assumed I was a ‘responsible’ adult.

The signature drink in the Dominican is something called a Mama Juana, a mixture of rum, wine and honey.The smell alone was enough for me. I figured out the derivation of the name though. It was probably coined by some poor chaperone wandering around in the middle of the night trying to corral a group of seniors while moaning “Mama Wanna Go Homa.” The experience inspired an idea for a new reality show, “Spring Breakdown,” which follows the chaperones rather than the plethora of spring break movies highlighting the antics of coeds.

The second week of spring break was spent visiting my other ‘seniors’ – my parents and in-laws who were much better behaved and thankfully went to bed much earlier than those in the Dominican Republic. However, this trip was not without drama either, which gave birth to another concept for a reality show, “The Granny Diaries.” In truth, this drama was no laughing matter. It revolved around my father-in-law’s plot to catch the health aid that has been stealing everything from money to wine, to paper towels, shampoo and laundry detergent. Their home had become her bank and Costco rolled into one. Actually, I think he enjoyed the excitement and subterfuge. 

My father-in-law’s scheme involved meticulously marked bills and planting a ‘Granny Cam’ to catch her in the act, which we did. The woman had no record, not even a traffic ticket, so I have no idea what made her choose to add thievery to her resume. Perhaps this was an isolated incident, or maybe she’s just so proficient she never got caught. Hard to say, but that decision is going to haunt her as she tries to find employment in the future. 

Returning home, I felt anything but rested. But the drama wasn’t over yet. I then learned of an incident with my son at spring training camp. My first thought was: We survived Punta Cana and you get in trouble in Disneyworld?!?! I was uncharacteristically full of angst over what I would normally view as a harmless prank. He definitely didn't exercise good judgment, but the situation didn't warrant the level of trepidation I experienced. Diagnosing the reason for my unease was simple because it is an all-too familiar symptom of vacationitis.

Like so many times before, over the course of my trip I had lost the inner peace I work hard to maintain. This is not a new phenomenon. It is a predictable consequence of not being still – something I find difficult to accomplish on vacation. At home I am disciplined in starting each day in quiet time with God, and lots of it. That strict discipline in my spiritual life tends to dissipate amidst the distractions that surround me when I’m away. “I’m on vacation” becomes an excuse for lots of things, and it may be; but it shouldn’t extend to my spiritual life. God doesn’t take vacations from me nor should I from Him. It doesn’t take long to get off-kilter because once I take that first step away from God, I gain momentum pretty quickly until I eventually find myself a good distance from where I need to be – tethered to the grounding influence in my life which fills me with a peace that transcends any circumstance. Hence, the atypical anxiety and stomachache over a knucklehead decision by my son.

It takes a while to recoup from vacationitis because I return to God’s presence slowly and humbly, embarrassed and remorseful that I chose to put Him on the back burner so to speak. Ironically, one of my devotionals this week read, “Be still in My presence, even though countless tasks clamor for your attention. Nothing is as important as spending time with Me. While you wait in My Presence, I do My best work within you transforming you by the renewing of your mind. If you skimp on this time with Me, you may plunge headlong into the wrong activities, missing the richness of what I have planned for you.” Coincidence? I think not.

Bottom line is I could have chosen to set aside time each day. I managed to find time for lots of other activities, and judging from the photo above it certainly would have been the wiser choice. So what did I learn during the last couple of weeks?

Most importantly, I was reminded once again about the importance of making the choice to be still an integral part of my daily routine regardless of where I am. My physical, psychological and spiritual wellbeing depends on it.

I’ll close with a timely poem my yoga instructor shared this week.

Shy One

by

John Mundahl

In the still hours of the morning,

When I sit with you, I know you love me.

And tenderness towards all swells and bursts

Within my heart like a tulip bud in spring.

But then the day takes you away

And I walk alone again in busy world.

I hide my wound with smiling face and wonder

If and when we’ll meet again.

I know you haven’t left me.

I know it’s I who has left you.

Yet the world pounds my mind and body

With heavy hand and drives you from my heart.

Shy One,

Hold me close.

Keep your tender eyes upon me.

Remember me, your child, when the world tears us apart.