The List

What is it about "human nature" that pushes one to look ahead, to set one's eyes on future events (known, not yet known, or completely dreamed up), to ultimately forget the very moment in which one lives? Is it really a "human nature" thing? Does it affect individuals differently, causing some to struggle with this more than others? What is it about the "now" that seems to difficult to live with? Why is it so hard to see that more often than not the "now" is what we have really dreamed for all along?

A dear and wise friend often exhorts me to do just this, to live in the moment (especially in regard to my kids), to embrace the "now," and roll with what comes my way later. It sounds so ... easy, inviting. But why in the world is it such a struggle?

I've contemplated this before, as it pops up on my radar from time to time. If I actually take the time to think about, I see that it comes in ways both subtle and grand-scale. My kids are playing so nicely outside ... but I need to get dinner started in an hour, so I tackle the kitchen instead of their play. Summer break officially starts next week, but I am already looking ahead to events and appointments planned for later this month as well as next. Is it really so hard to embrace the cliché, "one day at a time?"

An interesting thought came to me a couple of days ago as I sat outside in our yard. When we first moved here over a year ago, I couldn't help but tell myself that this was just a stop-over, a temporary set-up until we regrouped. The apartment was too small (forgetting that we were blessed with lodging), the area is expensive (forgetting the blessing that we are surrounded by family), Don feels exiled from his church (forgetting the blessing that we are in the healthiest place we've been in years). But over a year has passed and we're still here, settled in and quite happy. Yet oddly enough that little voice whispers occasionally, like the quick prick of a thorn reminding me of things I'm trying to put behind me. We're here because of ...... Our lives are such because of ...... But why is it so hard for me to say, we're here because this is where we are supposed to be? This is part of the journey? Why is it so hard for me to embrace this "now," where I am -- not just as a stop-over but as the place where I will thrive and grow and heal and really live? What in the world is stopping me?

Lots of rhetorical questions here. But then came the revelation, as I sat on the bench in our yard as Don grilled up (yes, grilled) a fabulous cowboy steak and asparagus. In some dark cob-webbed corner of my mind I suddenly (and Holy Spirit driven?) recalled an exercise we did before we moved to our last church. For the final two years or so of our second church, we experienced a great deal of turmoil and we knew the end was in sight. We were very ready to go, but we felt God telling us just to wait. Waiting is difficult, but we were grateful that God gave us the peace to do so, and it was good for us. But when finally we felt that we received the green light to start the process of moving onward, Don began meeting regularly with a Christian career counselor -- a woman of great insight and admirable gifts. A woman you could trust with tremendous confidence. She helped Don work through some issues with his experiences in ministry and what he encountered, and then she began to focus on our next place -- where it should be, what it should look like, and so on. She gave Don an exercise and asked him to write down a list of criteria -- the sky's the limit -- of what he wanted in his next situation. It could be anything, from the smallest and most insignificant of needs or "wants," to the grandiose and ridiculous of desires. We did the exercise together and actually had a lot of fun. It was the first time we allowed ourselves to dream, to think as small and as big as we liked. Some of our items were serious, such as desiring a healthy Christian community that was missionally-minded and "on fire," to so speak. Other criteria included fun, dream-like points such as a good-sized yard for the kids, sidewalks, a neighborhood community, within two hours of "home" and family, and so on. You can imagine our amazement when Don got "the call" from what turned out to be our last church -- a church that met just about every item on our list! We fell on our knees; we were in awe. But little did we know that the gleaming sheep before us actually hid a sharp-toothed, snarling wolf. No list in the world can prepare you for that.

So here we are. And a few days ago, as I sat on the bench, that list suddenly popped into my mind seemingly out of nowhere. I talked to Don about it, and suddenly I realized something. I asked him if he remembered every item on that list -- he didn't. I couldn't recall all of them either. But I said to him that I bet if he brought that list out again and we looked at it now ... I believe every item would be fulfilled. Here, of all places! Not in our last church, not in PA, but here, in the place we never dreamed we would be. Of course, the context would be different in some ways -- one of Don's contributions to the list was his desire to serve as an assistant, not as rector (having "been there, done that" and needing a break from that role). No, he's not technically an "assistant" at our church now -- he's not even a member -- but he is assisting our pastor. He's on the praise team and loves his role. He leads worship occasionally. He preaches from time to time. He pastors individuals. You get the idea.

I think we need to pull that list out again and take another look. We had prayed over that list, and while the church didn't turn out to be what we had hoped for or expected, and while we didn't expect to end up here, I wonder if in such a crazy, mixed-up, unexpected, God-way we did indeed receive an answer to our prayer. The world might have turned upside in the process, but here we are. I need to see that list again. I need to cease looking ahead in some respects, and take a good, long, hard look at what I have right in front of me. I need to pray for contentment, for perhaps after all this is my dream, and the beautiful part of my journey.