2015: A Desperate Year

Des·per·ate

ˈdesp(ə)rət/

adjective: desperate

Feeling, showing, or involving a hopeless sense that a situation is so bad as to be impossible to deal with.

If you are a bad parent (like me), you basically sang the Hallelujah chorus once the holidays were over.  Routine rules once again and my child is back in school where he belongs (and God bless you teachers, every one).  Amen.

Please note that these aren't only Elijah's presents, but do you see the crazy glint in his eyes?

But what hasn’t been restored is 2014.  We’ve been kicked into ANOTHER new year (You’d think I’d have been seen it coming, but noooo).  ‘Tis the season to resolve, renew, reinvent…..or at least post a Facebook status claiming your best intentions regarding these things (Because if you post it, it MUST be true!).  Since I am an easily overwhelmed and lazy change avoider, resolutions of any kind tend to scare me.  I mean, choosing whether or not to floss at the end of a long day is hard enough, why make life even more complicated?

Then my dear hearted friend Jaime (Worthy of mention: She happens to employ her super powers as a middle school teacher AND Young Life leader.  I know, it’s a little much.  Some people are concentrated goodness and light.  Here’s hoping proximity to such people helps eclipse my lesser qualities) suggested a focus word for the year.  Apparently, this idea is nothing new.  She uses it in her classroom with the students and personally in her life and home.  The word represents a goal, a mindset, a target for the year ahead.  A few examples she shared with me were: Thrive, Intentional, Survive.

I love this.  I love it isn’t SO specific to cause someone (Read: Me) to feel like a failure simply by doing (or not doing) a certain thing.  Resolutions can do just that.  They kick us while we’re down, confirming our worst fears about ourselves and reinforcing the idea that we’ll never change.  Losing weight isn’t a bad goal.  But determining to ALWAYS work out 5 days a week *may not* be the most realistic way to reach that goal.  Because in mid-February after you’ve lost your gym pass amidst the Reese’s wrappers in the couch cushions, you could find yourself giving up entirely.  Stopping before you’ve really started, since you’ve already screwed up so badly (Perhaps I speak only for myself here, but I don’t think so).  Am I saying we set laughably low standards for ourselves instead?  Not at all.  But give yourself a little grace and wiggle room, like you would with a treasured friend.  It doesn’t have to be “All or Nothing.”  Also, maybe, don’t make your target word “Six- pack Abs.”  Or, at least, I won’t.

Next there’s the issue of picking A WORD to encapsulate your hopes and dreams for an entire year.  No pressure.  

Yeah.  So I had that conversation with Jaime on the back burner of my mind during the tail end of this season.  There was one last visit with aunts and uncles planned before we could wave a hearty farewell to the holidays.  And it was a great visit.  Sweeter perchance because of all the loss our family has experienced this year.  That night I sat down with Elijah to pray. 

 Me: Don’t you think we should say “Thank you” to God for giving Uncle Doug and Aunt Karen a safe trip here?

 Elijah: Yes!  And maybe we could also pray for Uncle Doug’s arm to work again?

 Me: Ummm…..

Because, the thing of it is, my Uncle has ALS.  His arm isn’t going to work again.  No amount of “ice bucketing” is going to heal him.  He is -to put it bluntly- going to die from this disease.  I wasn’t sure how to honestly but appropriately explain this to my sensitive 7 year old.  Words stuck in my throat and my eyes filled with tears.  When all was said and done, Elijah went to bed crying and refusing to talk, covers pulled over his head.  Not my greatest mom moment.

I had a few words for Jesus as I walked downstairs that night.  I know too many good people who are sick and hurting.  Every day children are orphaned, forced out of their childhood and into responsibilities too heavy for their small shoulders.  It’s not right; this place is a wreck.  It turns my stomach.  All I could say was, “Jesus.  Why should I hope when everything seems so helpless?”  

Instead of an answer, He gave me a memory.  My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer almost 14 years ago.  Although I traveled home as often as I could, most of her treatment and recovery happened while I was attending college in Ohio.  And when I did visit, she seemed like a ghost of herself.  Skinnier and skinnier each time.  Very tired and ill.  A head so bald and shiny that when she wore her gold hoops we called her “Mr. Clean” (I’m certain you are advised against this in the “Idiot’s Guide to being Supportive During Cancer”).  Nearing the end of her treatments, I was able to come to a chemotherapy appointment with her.  Here’s what I remember: A sterile waiting room full of quiet, resigned faces.  Eventually Mom and I moved to the office area, facing each other in those uncomfortable, molded chairs.  The nurse came to put the needle in for Mom’s chemo and I instinctively clenched my arm rests.  Mom and I are petite, with tiny, hard to reach veins.  Several painful attempts later, Mom was in tears and the frustrated nurse was no closer to getting her IV attached.  She stepped out of the room, my sick, exhausted Mama and I sadly locked eyes, and I silently screamed a prayer similar to my lament following the ALS conversation with Elijah.  “Jesus, Is it too much to ask for ONE THING to be easy?  What’s the point of all this?  Why should I hope when everything seems so helpless?”

Of a lifetime of memories, why would this one resurface?  To state the obvious, it’s kinda a depressing remembrance.  Not exactly the hopefest I was looking for.  Although, to give you the WHOLE story, the nurse DID manage to get the needle in and Mom has been cancer-free for 13 years now.  Amazing accomplishments both.  But I kept coming back to the doctor’s office recollection itself.  The despair was palpable in that place.  I felt powerless to do anything and rightly so.  Because, outside of throat punching the nurse or inexpertly trying to insert the needle myself, I was basically incapable of helping in any real way.  Besides being there….and praying.

Then the synapses started firing and my old brain caught up.  Desperation (of all things) breeds honest prayer.  Example: Last year at this time, Ethiopia was considering closing their country for international adoptions.  Outside of prayer, there was literally NOTHING we could do for our daughter.  So we prayed.  On our knees, pouring out our hearts, screaming, crying, angry prayers.  THEN the country decided to stay open for international adoptions (Praise Jesus!)….and I haven’t prayed that hard for my daughter since.  It’s humiliating to admit.  Oh, I still pray for her...with all the desperation of a smug, surviving turkey post-Thanksgiving dinner.  It’s like if we have some control over a situation, if there’s something we can DO, some action we can take--then our prayers don’t need to be quite so serious.  We’re all, “God, I’ve got this.  It’s handled.  I’m not going to put too much on your plate right now.”  That last sentence looks even worse written out than it sounded in my head.  I am so arrogant; we all are.  The truth is: We need Jesus every second, no matter what.  Our desperation for His presence and intervention shouldn’t be fueled by the dire (or fantastic) circumstances of our days.  We don’t need Him MORE or LESS based on how life is treating us this very second; we need Him always.

I’m not an idiot though.  As a situation ratchets up in intensity, of course it will force us into desperation faster, making our need for Him clearer than before.  This isn’t the everyday stuff.  “Nothing to watch on Netflix!” or “No coffee creamer in the house!” doesn’t qualify (although they push the more dramatic of us off an emotional cliff).  Those prayers created from genuinely hard circumstances are honest pearls, true reflections of our deepest desires and fears.  This is gorgeous, transformative prayer.  You feel emptied out afterwards, as Jesus carves away more room for you to be filled.  This kind of communication with the Divine changes you, but doesn’t necessarily alleviate your struggles.  Because God’s underground work on our adversities *may not* produce the surface level differences we crave.  That’s the frustrating truth.  Jesus doesn’t tend to do things OUR way, which is one of the most miraculous and annoying things about Him.  And He WILL work within us if we can get over ourselves and give Him the opportunity.  From one hard-headed, short-sighted human to another: Don’t do this alone.  You need Jesus.  Experience has taught me that I constantly need Him to renew me, affirm me, to fix my broken heart.  I can’t imagine a day without His presence.  In fact, I aim to be desperate for it.

So this year, what’s YOUR word?  Where do you hope to be in 2016?  Here’s to 365 days of stepping out in faith to blaze our own trails!  And let’s plan to meet at the end, so we can over-enthusiastically high five and brag about how far we’ve come.