Graduation Day

by Joanie Butman

I’m sure I’ve mentioned my son graduated high school in May. I’ve spent a good portion of the past few months compiling a photo book depicting Doug’s school years – a bittersweet exercise that is filled with nostalgia for the little boy I sent off to nursery school so many years ago.

Amidst a sea of parents at commencement, I watched with pride as he received his diploma. I was overwhelmed with emotion, but not for the same reasons as those around me. My emotional state wasn’t because he completed high school. As Doug himself observed after his sister’s graduation two years ago and the myriad of celebrations that ensued, “What’s the big deal? It’s not like everyone doesn’t graduate high school you know. It’s kind of expected.” I had to agree with him as I didn’t even attend my graduation. Of course, when it was his turn, he wasn’t complaining about all the hoopla.

At any rate, my overwhelming emotion that day was one of immeasurable gratitude – not because there was any doubt that Doug could and would make it to college. It was because at one point there was serious concern that I wouldn’t be here to see it happen. I was witnessing answered prayer – a silent plea sent up to God six years prior from a hospital bed.

When I was diagnosed with a rare cancer in 2008, my only prayer was, “Please let me live long enough to get both my children settled in college.” And despite Dr. Doom’s ominous predictions, there I sat – a picture of health – not cured, but very much alive. There wasn’t a celebration big enough to contain my joy at that reality—especially because I knew too many others with cancer who hadn’t survived. 

Sitting in the audience at graduation, I recalled the verse I’ve clung to since my diagnosis, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11). I left that scripture for my husband before I went in for my first surgery. No one knows whether or not that particular promise will be fulfilled in this world or the next, but I choose to trust that whatever His plans are for me, they far surpass anything I could dream up, whether I live another five years or fifteen. My hope and joy doesn’t depend on a future here, but a future with God regardless of where I am.

Coincidentally, at a teaching session last week on healing, the pastor explained that he asks anyone who comes to him for healing prayer the same question, “Do you believe God wants to heal you?” He was surprised by my answer, which was “I can’t really say. He certainly doesn’t heal everyone and it’s not because He can’t, so I suppose it must be because He doesn’t want to. And if that’s not His will, it’s because He has other plans for them. Who am I to question?”

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways,”

declares the Lord.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

                                                         Psalm 55:8-9

That said, his question haunted me all week. Who can profess to know the mind of God? Certainly not me. There are times when He makes His will abundantly clear to me, but most of the time I have to choose to trust and rely on what I DO know. I choose to focus on WHO God is instead of looking for answers that don’t exist this side of the grave; namely, those beginning with the word why. Of the thousands of promises God makes in the Bible, explaining Himself is not one of them. We wouldn’t understand even if He did. However, I DO know that whatever He does is motivated by love in the same way we make decisions for our children.

My husband and I have spent the past 18 years shaping our son by giving him what he needed – not what he wanted. Trust me, he didn’t always like it. In fact, he once asked me if I stayed awake at night thinking of ways to “ruin his life.” Parenting includes making a lot of unpopular decisions on behalf of your children. My guess is that as Doug matures, he will understand and appreciate some of those choices in a way he couldn’t as a child. The same holds true for us, which is why God promises that all will be made clear to us ‘post-graduation.’

I also know that I’m glad He didn’t choose to heal me because I’ve grown more through this illness than I ever would have otherwise. I don’t believe He caused it, but He’s certainly used it for good. And for that I am eternally thankful. I was taught years ago that nothing is wasted in God’s economy; He can use anything for His purposes. Cancer is no exception.

Suffering is a perfect example of the illogical nature of God’s ways. What most people would choose to view as hardship, I choose to view as my greatest blessing. Once again, it’s all about perspective. Cancer has brought me closer to Him than I ever dreamed possible and given me opportunities to glorify Him in ways I never imagined. He is using it mightily. Who knows? Perhaps being part of the drug trial I’m in is part of the reason I’m still here. How exciting would that be, to be part of the process to develop a cure that will save countless lives?

In closing, when God is reviewing the album of my life, I think it will be obvious that He shone most brightly during my times of suffering than at any other moment. I don’t think He’ll be nostalgic for the child I once was because He’s always seen me—not as I was at any given moment in time, but as the completed person He created me to be. And I trust that whatever I feel as I watch my son blossom into a young man pales in comparison to the love God feels for each one of us. Just as Doug's graduation marked the official end of his childhood and the beginning of a wonderful adventure, so will our 'graduation' day - with the best still to come.

Old Mother Hubbard

by Joanie Butman

Freed from the routine of the school year, every day becomes an adventure during the summer. You never know when a 10-minute errand will turn into a 2-hour escapade. I promise this will be my last dump article, though I could write an entire book regaling decades of “Tales from the Transfer Station,” most notable being the time I was put on probation for not recycling after an extended family reunion weekend. A house full of relatives generates too much garbage to sift through – in more ways than one.

It was really just a verbal warning, but the threat of losing my dump privileges was made abundantly clear. I’ve been on my best behavior since – for the most part. I’ve always joked that you could cut up a body, stick it in a green bag and as long as it was deposited in the proper receptacle, no one would say a thing. But sneak a piece of cardboard into the general trash bin, and they’re all over you.

A few weeks ago I made a new friend on a dump run who unintentionally reminded me of some important truths:

  1. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.
  2. Happiness is all about perspective.
  3. Burdens are lighter when shared.

It all began when I agreed to drive my sister to the transfer station to drop off some old dressers. The best feature of the dump is the Swap Shop, where people discard unwanted but still useable or fixable items. My family and I have unearthed many a treasure there. After we dropped off the first load, I assured her it would be gone by the time we got back. Sure enough, five minutes later upon our return, it was nowhere in sight. As we carried out the second bureau, a woman jumped out of her car exclaiming, “It’s perfect! Just what I’m looking for. Today’s my lucky day!”

We carried it to her car where we discovered her trunk full with some of our earlier cast-offs. “Where do you live?” I inquired. “Why don’t we just bring it to your house?” Astonished, she replied “You would do that for me? This IS my lucky day!” My sister and I packed up the dresser and followed her home. We unloaded both cars while listening to her story. It was a lo-o-o-ong narrative and she insisted on giving us a tour of her entire house as she spoke. We learned that she was moving her husband into hospice after a lengthy journey with Alzheimer’s. All his ‘toys’ (lego-type projects) littered the kitchen table and living room because she didn’t have the heart to dismantle them. 

Following the tour, she moved onto her photo albums, and we were given a pictorial of her life beginning with the wedding. Fast forward 90 minutes and she finally (but reluctantly) escorted us to my car, clearly eager for us to linger. She reiterated her original assessment that this was a great day, and how fortunate she was to run into us with exactly the items she needed for her husband’s new abode. Before I left I asked her name and she replied “Old Mother Hubbard.” I laughed, but she assured me she was serious. “It’s Norma Hubbard, but everyone knows me as Old Mother Hubbard.” You just never know who you’re going to meet. Her house may not have resembled a shoe, but it was quirky and unique in its own right.

As my sister and I left, she teased, “What is it with you? Every time we're together something like this happens.” We discussed Norma and agreed that it’s all about perspective. This woman’s life was disintegrating around her, but she felt like the luckiest woman in the world because she rescued someone else’s discarded junk, and managed to rope in a couple of visitors in the process! Whatever issues were on my mind paled in comparison to Old Mother Hubbard’s problems. Her circumstances were less than ideal, yet in our trash she chose to perceive a blessing. An excellent lesson for an innocent trip to the dump. I don’t believe in coincidence, so I knew that God was reminding me of a key Christian principle:

Our circumstances don’t dictate our joy.

I also think He knew Norma needed some companionship, no matter how brief.

That encounter also highlighted another aspect of Christianity – the importance of fellowship. Sharing each other’s burdens (or trash) always helps put your own in perspective. When you see what others have to deal with, you tend to feel better about your own life. That’s one of the reasons I enjoy Bible study so much. It keeps me grounded by helping me view my own concerns in the proper perspective.

I’ve met so many entertaining and interesting people at the dump. It's quite the social scene. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you do, or where you’re from—the common denominator is our junk. The same can be said about life. We’re all connected by our own humanity and have to deal with the same garbage that life dishes out in abundance. Your rubbish might be health issues, relational issues, work issues, addiction issues – the list is endless. Humans have been recycling the same stinky messes since Eve ate that apple, and our probation lasted until Christ came to bail us out. (She probably didn’t put the core in the compost pile!)

There is no doubt that our load is definitely lighter when shared with others, which is why I wouldn’t recommend trying to hide things or sneak it into the wrong container. But even if you are so inclined, and we all are at some point, God will never revoke your dump privileges. The fastest way to deal with emotional or spiritual refuse is to bring it into the light and presence of the only receptacle waiting, willing and able to relieve you of whatever it is you’ve been carting around – not with condemnation or probation, but with love. Recycling may be good for the environment but not for your soul. You definitely don’t want to keep recycling the same old stuff. Choose to acknowledge it, confess it, hand it over to God and be done with it.

Christ is the ultimate alchemist. He can take anything you surrender to Him, transform it into something precious and beautiful, then use it for good – a sort of Divine Swap Shop. You’ll be amazed at the treasures you’ll discover there.

The Stinky Cheese Lady

by Joanie Butman

In case you’re wondering, The Stinky Cheese Lady is not a sequel to Jon Scieszka’s The Stinky Cheese Man. It happens to be the new moniker I acquired recently after a mysterious odor appeared in my car. Initially, it didn’t surprise me as I am the dump-run lady in Massachusetts where we reside in the summer. Carting stale beer cans, empty wine bottles, lobster shells and various other odor producing sundries can wreak havoc on one’s car. Assuming the foul smell was just the remnants of my last load, I didn’t think twice about it. Coupled with the fact that my plethora of allergies has numbed my sense of smell, I couldn’t appreciate the gravity of the situation.

My son was the first to mention it, but honestly, it smelled (at least to me) a lot better than his car during lax season, so I didn’t take his comments too seriously until my friend got in the car and almost fainted.

“What is that disgusting smell?”

“What smell?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Christian fellowship involves an important aspect that is integral to genuine friendship. A true friend will always tell you when your car stinks. More importantly though, it is essential to have someone in your life who will be bold enough to tell you when he or she recognizes an area in your life that stinks and needs to be cleaned up. An area your soul has been numbed to – a bad habit perhaps, a bitterness, a lack of forgiveness, who knows?

I’ve been blessed with such a friend. Trust me, I don’t always like what she points out. In fact, I don’t like it at all, but she does it so lovingly and directly I have to applaud her courage for caring enough to speak the truth to me, and hold me accountable when I behave in a way that is not healthy or consistent with my beliefs.

It took me a week to discover the source of the stench in my car. The culprit turned out to be ½ pound of turkey and ½ pound of provolone cheese that had fallen out of a grocery bag and lodged under the passenger seat. A week of baking in the hot sun was a toxic combination. Who knows, a little longer and spontaneous combustion might have been a distinct possibility.

Personally, sometimes it takes a week of festering over something in my life that causes a distinctly unpleasant aura – the kind that emanates from you, resembling the clouds of dirt that surround Charles Schultz’s character Pig Pen wherever he goes. Other times, it’s something that’s been festering for years, or even a lifetime, until someone forces you to address the source of the issue.

It never occurred to me before, but Pig Pen is the epitome of our human condition. Wikipedia notes, “He cannot seem to rid himself of the dust for more than the briefest of periods — indeed, in spite of his best efforts, it appears that he cannot stay clean.” Sounds like my car AND my soul!

My car’s hygiene problems were easily solved with a long overdue trip to the carwash. I wish there was such a thing as detailing for the soul. Unfortunately, humans are more complicated than vehicles and our detailing can take a lifetime. That’s the process of sanctification as I understand it.

Accountability partners are a crucial element of God’s process of sanctification. Christ never sent anyone out alone. The friend I mentioned is also one of the best encouragers I know, which is why I accept her admonitions without rancor. When she corrects me, I know she has my best interests at heart. Choosing an accountability partner is imperative if you want to grow in your faith because as Proverbs 27:17 states, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” We have a responsibility to each other that can’t be overlooked or ignored.

You can attempt to disguise the areas of your life that need a spiritual ‘Febrezing’ more than my car, but it will be temporary at best because you are only addressing the symptom. Until you discover the source, it will keep popping up again and again until some incident ignites it, causing an explosion leaving you waist high in all kinds of garbage you never anticipated.

Finally, an important tidbit I’ve learned over the years of carting refuse to the dump—it’s easier and less smelly the more frequently you do it. The same can be said for spiritual debris. The dump has specific hours of operation that dictate my schedule. On rare occasions, I've even had to cart the trash back to Connecticut. Trust me, lugging around old garbage isn't recommended for your car or your soul. Gratefully, God is available 24/7 so we don't need to. Spending daily time with the Lord confessing and releasing my shortcomings makes every day a new day without the lingering odor of yesterday’s rubbish bogging me down. Therein lies my hope as a Christian. As it says in Phillipians 4:16, “That is why we are not discouraged. Though outwardly we are wearing out, inwardly we are renewed day by day.”

I’ll leave you with a message from my fortune cookie last week as it seems particularly timely: “Every day is a new life to a wise man.”

Today’s a new day. Choose to embrace each morning as a new beginning.

My Bad

 by Joanie Butman

sorry-my-bad_1204
sorry-my-bad_1204

My last official act as a sports mom was to orchestrate the end-of-year lacrosse party. Since teenage boys consider Chipotle its own food group, the moms decided to cater dinner rather than the traditional barbecue. I was in charge of ordering, which seemed an easy enough task and something at which I happen to excel. I placed my order online in a matter of minutes and cursed myself for not thinking of this idea years ago. However, when I arrived at the designated pickup time I was told my order was never received, despite the fact that I was holding the confirmation in my hand. Chipotle has now been added to the list of establishments I can no longer frequent.

Let’s just say I didn’t receive the news well. When I called a friend to vent, she asked, “Please don’t tell me you went all Brooklyn on them?” I’m not exactly sure what that looks like, but apparently it’s not pretty. Regardless, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that speed is one of Chipotle’s best attributes (another thing that appeals to hungry teenage boys). They had dinner for 30 packed and in my car in less than half an hour.

As Christians our most basic responsibility is to live in a way that attracts people to Christ. My friend distills that goal down even further to her first rule of thumb in her Christian walk which mirrors the Hippocratic Oath, “First and foremost, do no harm.” I’m fairly certain that going ‘all Brooklyn’ on people fails miserably in that regard. Hence, the long preamble about Chipotle.

Christians are called to be Christ-like but too often fall short and are then tempted to feel discouraged and defeated by our inability to overcome our sinful nature, despite our best efforts and intentions – and with good reason. That’s why the gospel is called The Good News. God knows we can’t do it on our own. We’re the only ones that find that surprising. Trust me, until you accept that fact, you can’t truly appreciate what’s so amazing about grace. It is only when we recognize our own capacity for sin that our heart opens and God’s transforming love seeps in, resetting our default mode from one controlled by self to one controlled by the Spirit. This is not a one-time event. We are constantly faced with moment-to-moment choices of whether to give into our sinful nature or rely on the Holy Spirit’s power to overcome it.

work-in-progress3
work-in-progress3

Even so, every backslide offers another opportunity to humbly repent, lean on God’s promises and the Holy Spirit to ignite a renewed commitment to rely on His strength and wisdom to make a better choice next time. We’re all a work in progress and recidivists by nature. Remember, it’s about perseverance not perfection. It’s a lo-o-ong  race.

Do we give up and wallow in self-criticism, condemnation and despair, or do we seek forgiveness from the only One who has the power to transform lives? Even the apostle Paul struggled with this issue as is illustrated by his lament: I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:18-19) Don’t you just love his honesty? Like Paul, it’s usually the same sins that trip me up all the time, but I take comfort in God’s answer to Paul’s pleas for deliverance, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

How do you tap into that power? Spend time with Jesus. The more you get to know Him, the more you rely on His power and not your own. When you're in unity with Christ, your sinful nature is continually and repeatedly handed over to Him rather than acted upon. 

So what’s my solution in regard to my conduct in Chipotle? To humbly return to the scene of the crime with an apology and a peace offering, much like the orchid I brought the woman in Staples who worked on the posters for the lacrosse team, the cookie I brought the guard in the parking lot in town who insisted I move my car, the pie I brought the lady in the pharmacy who lost my prescription, the truckload of doughnuts I should have bought for everyone I ever dealt with at the Motor Vehicle Bureau or on the Apple help line – you get the picture. I may not have perfected the art of choosing patience or self-control, but choosing to seek forgiveness is something with which I’ve had a lot of practice.

Choose to…

“Live each day controlled and guided by the Holy Spirit.

Then the words of Christ will be in your mind,

the love of Christ will be behind your actions,

and the power of Christ will help you control your selfish desires.”

My Sistas

by Joanie Butman

I joined a friend at church recently for a prayer service. At one point everyone was standing, but I sat down because I was feeling dizzy. I had my eyes closed so I didn’t notice my companion falling until she ended up right on top of me. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one feeling light-headed. She kept apologizing, and our wooziness must have fed our giddiness because we ended up giggling while the rest of the church continued in worship. Memories of the nuns of my youth coming over and dragging us both out by our ears popped into my head. Luckily, in this church, our laughter was merely perceived as joy.

What a beautiful illustration of friendship. My comrade had no reason to apologize. I can’t think of a greater honor than being able to offer a safe, soft landing area for a friend in need. It is exactly what we are called to do for each other – regardless of our religious beliefs. It doesn’t often translate into someone landing in your lap, but they might land on your doorstep, or crying on your shoulder, or sitting over a cup of coffee, or maybe the situation calls for something stronger – like prayer. Bet you thought I was going elsewhere with that!

Every circumstance calls for its own kind of comfort. Our job is simply to be available, ready to catch each other in a warm embrace. It could be one-on-one (literally), as in the situation with my friend, or it could be as a community.  I am lucky to live in a town where I have repeatedly witnessed our community rally around those in need – financially, emotionally, in celebration and in unimaginable grief. We are bound together by our shared humanity with all the joys, sorrows, trials and tribulations that brings. Sometimes you’re the net; sometimes you’re the one in need. Frequently, leaning against each other is the only thing holding you both up.

Fellowship is an integral part of Christianity. From the beginning God recognized that it was not good for man to be alone. In fact, isn’t mutuality the basis of The Golden Rule? Love your neighbor as yourself – the one tenet on which all world religions can agree. I don’t think anyone could argue that we all benefit when we “encourage one another and build each other up” (1 Thes 5).

The topic of fellowship is foremost on my mind because the summer is a difficult time to maintain a disciplined spiritual life – not because I don’t read devotions or the Bible, but because I’m afloat without my ‘sistas’ with whom I study the Bible during the year. As hard as I try, I’m just not as disciplined alone and eventually find myself in the same spiritual desert every summer.  In an attempt to avoid this phenomenon this year, I joined a neighbor’s informal Bible study. I guess I’m not alone in ‘summer slacking’ as one of the members sent out this email that sums up the importance of fellowship: “During the summer months, so many of us become islands unto ourselves and tend to feel spiritually disconnected. This group is a wonderful opportunity for us to nourish our souls and our spirits and to stay focused on God’s Word and its application for us all.” Amen, sista!

Life offers a dizzying array of situations that cause us to lose our balance. We all have weak moments when we grow faint and need a safe landing spot. And when they come, may you be strengthened by the encouragement of others so that you, in turn, can choose to do the same. There is always someone in need of encouragement; you never have to look far. And sometimes, like my friend, they will land unexpectedly in your lap or on your doorstep. Choose to live with an open heart, open arms, and an open door. You never know who will drop in. It might even be a divine landing, whereby you end up in His lap – the softest, most loving landing pad I know.

 One of the highest of human duties is the duty of encouragement.

It is easy to laugh at men's ideals; it is easy to pour cold water on their enthusiasm;

it is easy to discourage others.

The world is full of discouragers. We have a Christian duty to encourage one another.

Many a time a word of praise or thanks or appreciation or cheer has kept

a man on his feet.

Blessed is the man who speaks such a word.

William Barclay