Ruskie Reconnaissance

by Joanie Butman

My husband and I spent last week in Vienna with our daughter who is studying abroad. We woke one morning to a sea of secret service agents on our floor and in the lobby. This development is just the sort of intrigue that my husband finds more fascinating than any palace, historical site or Christmas market we’d been dragging him to all week, and certainly more entertaining than the cheesy Sound of Music tour I tried to coax him into.

Determined to discover the identity of our famous resident, Bob proceeded to do his best Richard Castle impression, dreaming up scenarios of Russian spies and conspiracies. He entertained us by talking into his watch and lapel, mimicking characters from his favorite show, Homeland, or maybe Get Smart would be a better analogy.He conducted his own stakeout in the lobby, and there was no getting him to leave the hotel until the VIP emerged from his room surrounded by armed guards.

In the elevator on my way to meet Bob at his strategic surveillance perch, I questioned the bellman regarding the identity of the distinguished visitor. “He must be someone pretty important,” I commented. His response surprised me. “You’re just as important. We’re all important. We all matter.” Not the answer I was looking for as I was hoping to solve Bob’s mystery, but no truer words were ever spoken. You don’t need an entourage of secret service agents to determine your worth. We all have something to offer, and that bellman just presented me with a Biblical truth many of us tend to forget.

Sitting in the lobby a few minutes later watching the Russian Foreign Minister being ushered out, I considered the type of escort I travel with – aside from my family. It’s definitely not of the secret service type as you might have figured out because my life is an open book. Even so, we all have our own form of groupies that either attract people to us or not.

For example, during my travels around the city, I kept finding myself in front of a large piece of graffiti. It became a marker of sorts. It read, “I can already smell your unhappiness.” This statement illustrates the power of choosing the kind of aura with which you want to travel through life. What’s yours? Is it past hurts or regrets, anxiety, fear, distrust? Or is it more like the fruits of the spirit – “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control?” Sadly, I have to admit mine isn’t the latter nearly as much as I’d like. Some days it’s easier than others, but too often I find myself polluting the air with my own foul-smelling luggage.

It’s an ongoing effort to consciously choose the attitudes I want to exude. If I wasn’t confident of the fact that because I was created in God’s image and likeness I reflect His glory, I’d be tempted to (and often do) get discouraged by my own failures. But gratefully it’s not about me or what I’ve done. It’s ALL about what He’s done for me. Because He is my constant travel companion, I can choose to let Him do the heavy lifting by surrendering any unnecessary and burdensome baggage to His care.

My devotional the next day mirrored that bellman’s message and was an excellent reminder of the type of entourage we all have the privilege of travelling with. It reads:

“You have a vital role to play in the unfolding of God’s plan. You are not an accident or a random occurrence. Your witness, your words, your intercession, your service – it all makes a huge difference in this world. Even if you can’t see how, you matter! So don’t let troubles or difficulties keep you down. You’re too important, too beloved, and too dignified to let them get the upper hand. Instead, stand up straight and look to your Father, and see what He is doing today.”*

When you choose to travel with a divine escort, you radiate Their presence into a broken world. In doing so, we all become ambassadors for Christ. Finally, in regard to protection, you couldn’t get a better security detail assigned to you. 

*The Word Among Us

Divine Attitude Adjustment

by Joanie Butman

As a follow-up to last Sunday, I want to share an illustration of how God provides when we choose to pay attention. I had jury duty last week and was dreading it. I don’t know what it is about me—I get called every year. I’d already exhausted my allotted postponements so I was obligated to report, even though up until midnight I was still weighing my options asking my husband, “So, what’s the consequence for not going? What’s the worst they can do?” I woke up convicted that I had a responsibility to fulfill my civic duty, though that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.

I began my day in the usual manner, sitting quietly in prayer. What follows is a perfect example of its transforming power. Among other things, including complaining about jury duty I’m sure, I inquired if there was anything God wanted me to do for Him that day. What I heard in response was a gentle reminder that every time I’ve sat in a jury room, I’ve always been put in the path of someone that needed comfort or encouragement. Instantly, my attitude was adjusted from grudging compliance to eager anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see what was waiting to unfold. Turns out, I didn’t have to wait long.

When I arrived at the courthouse with my Bible study tote in tow so I could complete this week’s homework, I surrendered my bags for the mandatory search. The officer took out my Bible that is housed in a zippered leather case and asked if it was a computer. I told him it was a Bible to which he replied, “I could really use some prayers today.” At first I thought he was being flippant, but something or someone made me stop and inquire “Seriously?” He assured me he couldn’t be more sincere. I asked his name and told him that I would be honored to pray on his behalf. I walked away with a skip in my step knowing I was exactly where I was meant to be. I had no idea what Patrick’s issues were nor did I need to. God knows his name and his needs. He was merely giving me the privilege and opportunity to lift Patrick up in prayer.

At my first break I sought Patrick out and was redirected to another location. As I approached, his face lit up. Little did he know that getting me as a prayer partner was equivalent to George Bailey getting Clarence as his guardian angel. Remember George’s response, “You look about like the kind of angel I'd get. Sort of a fallen angel, aren't you? What happened to your wings?”

God is so funny. My goal this summer was to improve my prayer life. Be careful, when you are working on something with Him, He will put you in situations where you have to practice – a lot! As part of my effort, a friend had been hounding me to be more specific with my prayers, which is why I decided to seek Patrick out to determine if he desired more intentional prayers. I questioned if he needed prayer for anything specific. He got teary-eyed, and I backed off explaining he didn’t need to reveal anything to me. He didn’t elaborate and just requested general prayers for health, family, work. I shared my story about dreading the day and my divine attitude adjustment that morning. I heard myself talking about God and immediately thought, “Oh no! I’ve become one of those!” You know what I learned? Being one of those is not necessarily a bad thing.

We said our goodbyes, he took my hand and thanked me before I left. Just as Patrick was an answer to my prayer, I hope he recognized me as an answer to his – a hug from Heaven with this message, “I see your pain.” My heart was full of gratitude for being given the pleasure of bearing God’s message that He sees him, He cares, Patrick is not alone.

I returned to the jury room filled with emotion and opened my Bible study book. The title of the lesson was Love in Action. It began with the instruction that “the law of Christian love carries a divine quality and calls for us to bear one another’s burdens.” Coincidence? I think not. I spent the next few hours completing the assignment and praying for Patrick. I can’t think of a better way to study than applying what you’ve learned, so I began searching my bag sure that I would find some inspirational card or bookmark to leave with my new friend. Sure enough, I discovered a pack of comfort cards purchased years ago that had never been opened. Perfect!

During my lunch break I approached Patrick with this greeting, “I’m back!” Once again, his face lit up. I can’t say that many faces light up when they see me coming so when it happens, it’s pretty special. He explained, “I’m so glad you’re here. I was going to come find you to apologize for asking you to pray for me. That was so selfish.” Astounded, I asked ‘Why?” He responded with such authenticity and humility I wanted to hug him. “There are so many people with bigger issues.” With that he took out a note he’d composed outlining his brother-in-law’s dire situation: brain cancer with only 6 – 12 months to live. “I was going to bring this to the jury room. He needs your prayers more than me. This is what I‘d like you to pray for.” Lamely, I handed him the comfort cards to share with his brother-in-law. It seemed so inadequate given his revelation, but it was all I had to offer.

We chatted for a while, and I mentioned that I had some books his brother-in-law might enjoy. I asked for Patrick’s address so I could forward to him. He jotted it down at the top of his prayer request. I was stunned to see that he lives around the corner from me. It is indeed a small world – the title of my evening small group study this week. I know those of you who don’t necessarily believe in Godwinks* will chalk this up to coincidence, but even the eye-rolling cynics I live with have learned to pay attention to and appreciate God moments such as these.

As far as jury duty goes, I confess I wasn’t sitting on the edge of my seat waving my hand keen to be assigned to a trial. I don’t think that’s why I was there anyway. However, by starting my day the way I begin most days – on the edge of my seat waving my hand saying, “Here I am Lord, send me” — I gave God the opening to provide a much-needed mood realignment that allowed me to be of use to Him. When I choose to take the time to pay attention to His still, small voice, I may not always be pleased about where He places me, but I am never disappointed.

P.S. At the risk of becoming a stalker, I dropped off some books the next day along with a card reminding Patrick that I would continue to keep him and his brother-in-law in my prayers. If you feel called to do the same, please join me in praying for strength, comfort and peace for Patrick and James.

Pay Attention!

by Joanie Butman

Last week’s blog prompted this question from some friends: “Who wouldn't want to share a room with you?” I could think of a few people in my own family, but embarrassingly, that was my initial thought too. Not because I think I’m a sought-after travel companion, but I just never thought of myself as intimidating in any way. At the time, however, Leslie and I just laughed about it and became too engrossed in our travels to give it further consideration.

Still, her comment haunted me upon my return. I couldn’t imagine what I might have done that was so off-putting. After much reflection, I concluded it wasn’t what I did. It was what I didn’t do; namely, pay attention.I thought back to that pre-departure meeting and remembered being rushed and preoccupied, knowing my husband was waiting for dinner. I was so far from the moment I’m not surprised she was dreading a week with me. John Ortberg comments in his book, Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them, “…we speak of paying attention to people; attention is the most valuable currency we have.” This incident was affirmation of that universal truth. I believe the highest compliment you can give anyone is your attention – a timely and excellent reminder in this digital age where it is a challenge soliciting anyone’s undivided attention. 

We all wear many hats: husbands, wives, parents, children, friends, professionals, volunteers, etc. Distraction has become a permanent state with everyone multitasking and rushing about. It’s an American fit-and-run approach to shoving as much as possible into every free moment with most to-do lists longer than Santa’s Naughty and Nice one. Busyness has become a status symbol in our caffeine-fueled society. Just yesterday I had a conversation with someone who mentioned to her doctor that she thought there was something wrong with her because she felt the need to put her feet up during the day. Sadly, she needed the doctor to give her permission to stop and relax without guilt or fear that there was something ‘wrong’ with her.

Conversely, in Europe the opposite is true. They don’t even sell coffee in to-go cups. That would be an anathema to them. People socialize for hours over a cup of coffee. So much so, I often wondered who was working given the crowds lingering in the middle of the day. Even our guides lamented that it was no surprise that their economies were a mess. There must be a happy medium.

Back to my friend. After I wrote down what I determined was the reason for her first impression, I got up enough courage to ask her for an honest answer. Her reply didn’t surprise me in the least. She responded, “When I met you I thought you were aloof.” Bingo!! Need I say more? She is probably wishing I was a bit more aloof now. She went on to say, “Plus, after my comment about not flushing in the night, I thought you looked at me like I was strange.” Ha! For someone with a reputation of blurting out some pretty outrageous things, I didn’t give it a second thought.

As I thought about her aloof comment, it struck me that God probably feels much the same about me at times. This experience prompted me to remember that God, too, longs for our undivided attention above all else. No fancy prayers, self-flagellation, or lists of supplication – just seeking His presence in quiet stillness. Choosing to put our feet up (either literally or mentally) to rest in His peaceful presence is probably the best gift we can offer on any given day – seeking His face, not just his hand. Choosing to listen more and speak less – paying attention to His still small voice whispering...

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

The Hens

by joanie Butman

The first leg of my recent journey was on tour with eleven other women – our only connection being the woman who put the trip together. When I told people I was going away with a group of women I didn’t know, without exception the first response was, “WHY?!” Everyone thought I was crazy, which puzzled me. That was part of the adventure. There is a certain liberty being with strangers – though when you’re together 24/7, you don’t remain strangers long. Regardless, they don’t know any of your baggage yet and have no preconceived expectations of you. You’re given a clean slate. How refreshing. The sad part is that baggage begins to surface pretty quickly because you can leave a lot of stuff behind – but not yourself.

My roommate and I did not have an auspicious beginning, as I entered our room unannounced to surprise her in complete undress. Later that night, buoyed by a couple of glasses of Croatian truth serum, she confided that after our brief pre-departure meeting, she was dreading sharing a room with me. Note to self: work on your first impressions! I won her over by the end of our first date. I’d like to say it was with my vivacious wit, but that would be a gross exaggeration. However, rescuing a person from a near-death experience can endear you to anyone. The rest of the week was one long pajama party, staying up late into the night talking about anything and everything. I felt 13 again.

I nicknamed our little group the ‘hens’ because we were all mothers with empty nests, constantly on the lookout for someone to take under our wing. There was one mother/daughter couple on the trip, and I fear we smothered that poor girl all week. I give her a lot of credit for accepting our unsolicited advice and attention with such good humor and grace. The most notable thing I could say about the week is my take away that the lowest common denominator amongst humans is suffering. It transcends all boundaries: social, racial, generational, economical or geographical.

I know this group of women could boast many accomplishments, but we bonded not over what we’ve achieved, but what we’ve lost: dreams, marriages, homes, waistlines, health, even our youth. It was fascinating to discover how the role of adversity helped shape these women into this strong, courageous, confident, joyful, fun-loving group. Hardship was often the most common topic with our guides as well. Another surprising quote from Bitter Bob was “Put your finger in the sea and you are connected to the world.” I’d say the same about pain.

Coincidentally, one of our last stops in Zagreb was the Museum of Broken Relationships, which further confirmed that people empathize with each other’s pain more than anything else. It was an exhibition of a hodge-podge of photos and artifacts with the coinciding story of the broken relationship it represented. Many made me laugh out loud – particularly the faded photo of a dock on a beautiful lake captioned: “Spot where I saw my first penis in the sunshine.” However, most of them were more tragic – rape, divorce, suicide, cancer, war miseries. Love, loss, suffering, grief. This exhibit was a poignant portrayal of the human condition.

Even with that said, bonding doesn’t happen without authenticity. Over the years, I’ve discovered when you choose to be authentic, people respond in kind no matter where you find yourself. Honesty begets honesty. Choosing to be authentic in our relationships provides a safe haven for others to come for comfort, encouragement and support. There is no greater connector than shared suffering. Like I said, pain respects no boundaries.

I think one of the biblical messages that has helped me most in life is “You are not alone.” Never is this truer than in our suffering. You don’t have to team up with a tour group, start a blog or wear your heart on your sleeve, though I’ve been known to do all three. If that’s not your style, you can always choose to be authentic with God. He wants to heal the broken-hearted and bandage wounds and relationships of every kind, but it’s our choice to humbly seek His company and assistance.

Choose wisely!

Lead Me

by Joanie Butman

During my recent trip I met a variety of guides, one of whom I mentioned last week – cute Ivan who took us kayaking and hiking in Croatia. Unfortunately, not all our guides shared his boyish charm. We enjoyed a variety of personalities – all of them imparting their knowledge and experience, but in dramatically different ways. Some were business-like, and some more personable than others. Two stick out in my mind more than most.

There was ‘Bitter Bob’ in Split. He was an Eeyore you couldn’t help but like, despite his pessimistic attitude towards life and negative view of his country’s politics and people in general. He did make a mean olive oil though. Surprisingly, while explaining his olive oil business, he discussed a paradox of life: the more stressed the tree, the better the quality of its olives. Contrary to what you might think, being exposed to the elements doesn’t endanger the tree, it makes it stronger. He went on to say it’s not unlike humans. Often the worst conditions bring out the best in people. Hmm, there was more to Bitter Bob than met the eye, which is the case with most people if you look hard enough.

Then there was Paul in Italy. After Bob, I was hoping for someone a bit more upbeat. Spoiled by Ivan’s stunning good looks and friendly disposition, I was anticipating a young Italian hiker to lead us through the Cinque Terra. When we arrived at the designated meeting spot, you can imagine my dismay to find a middle-aged man from Rhode Island with a paunch and a sizeable chip on his shoulder, which didn’t take long to surface. I nicknamed him ‘Pissed-off Paul.’

He guided us through trails with expertise, pointing out resting areas, guiding us to water, warning us to slow down when the path got steep or rocky, and encouraging us with promises of “just a few more minutes to the ‘Oh wow!’” To be honest, by that time, the only oh wow I was interested in was the gelato waiting in the next town.

Regardless, along with Paul’s knowledge of the area and its inhabitants, we were subjected to his disgust with the tourists, his litany of accomplishments in life and high opinion of himself, and were chastised for speeding past the best view in the Cinque Terra because he claimed I was too focused on my feet. Ha, little did he know it wasn’t my feet, it was the gelato I was focused on—which turned out to be a better oh wow than that vista. At one point my daughter asked a question he refused to answer and was reprimanded, “I told you that on the way up. You weren't listening.” I wondered on more than one occasion why I was paying a sizable amount of money to spend the day with this man.

Guides come in many forms throughout life. We’re all guides of some sort – parents, grandparents, friends, teachers, coaches, and mentors. The list is endless. Much like the guides I met, we too are often called to be guides to strangers. Everyone possesses knowledge, wisdom and experience that can benefit others. This exercise emphasized the importance of choosing what kind of guide you want to be and made me thoughtfully consider where I fall on the guide spectrum. Do I live in a way that attracts people? Am I an encourager? Do I share what I’ve learned in a manner that engages people or am I off-putting? Am I bitter or joyful? Am I a know-it-all? Most importantly for me, from a Christian perspective, do I live in a way that leads people to Christ? The answers depend on the day I suppose.

The most defining decision that influences the type of guide you are has got to be who you choose as your guide. Who is mine? The answer to that question doesn’t depend on the day - the One who is the same yesterday, today and forever. It's only when my focus strays off Him that I lose my bearings and often start down paths I shouldn’t be on. Bitter Bob and Pissed-off Paul are excellent reminders to make an effort to be a better guide than I’ve been in the past, keeping my eyes on Jesus not on my own two feet. He is the source of my hope, strength, comfort, love and joy. When you're walking with Him, you can't help but share those blessings with others.

I thought of the friend I mentioned last Sunday that passed away this week and those people who lovingly guided her home, showering her with love and comfort. Don’t ever underestimate your ability to be someone else’s guide, even if it is simply walking alongside them in their suffering.

I will close with the lyrics of one of my favorite songs, For Good:

I've heard it said,

That people come into our lives

For a reason

Bringing something we must learn.

And we are lead to those

Who help us most to grow if we let them.

And we help them in return.

Well, I don't know if I believe that's true

But I know I'm who I am today

Because I knew you.

I didn’t know Barbara long, but witnessing how she carried her suffering with enduring faith changed us all for the better. Even in death Barbara continued to lead people to Christ as her service yesterday was all about her faith and how she shared it with others in such a transforming manner.

In Loving Memory of Barbara Oddo Del Gatto