In college, our dorm phone number was 836-2223. Unfortunately to drunk frat boys at 2 am, this translated to 836-BABE. I was the one who was typically awakened by these calls. I always gave them to my roommate. She did not appreciate it.
We had a few wrong numbers in China. My favorite was this woman, who insisted that her sister must live at my house because that was the number she had written down.
This week, it’s “call for someone else” week at the Butz house. I’ve had at least 6 people call in the last three days looking for a variety of people. Some of them have called more than once. There’s a person in Wisconsin who seems intent on reaching me on my cell, but when I call back it says Kohls. Why would Kohls be calling me? One man even resorted to swearing at us on our answering machine. Well, swearing at his friend, “Why won’t you pick up? I know you’re there.” Really? Do you know who is here? Because the message on the machine should have clued you in.
Sorry, it’s just the four of us here. I hope you find who you’re looking for. Please stop calling.
* Also, I realized that my comments setting was like Fort Knox, so if you have tried to comment in the past and found it too complicated, I think I’ve remedied that. Comment away!
Years ago, I was introduced to the idea that from the beginning of life, we build a house for ourselves. This house is constructed of the strategies we use to make life work apart from God. It’s how we find our place, protect ourselves from pain, feel loved and needed. Our houses all look different but in many ways they are the same. They serve us well. They help us. They make us feel secure.
Along the way, if we meet God, He will offer us another house. It’s a far superior house, as all God’s resources are superior. It has a better foundation, one grounded in His truth about us. It’s not affected by wind or rain. Really, it’s a better place to live.
So sometimes we live there. But often, we’re not even aware of it, or if we are, we don’t feel a need for it. The house we’ve built seems quite sufficient.
The problem is, though, it’s not really a house. It’s a prison.
When I learned about these houses, I began to see how well my prison held me. My well-constructed strategies of staying put together and performing well keep me from being free, from being vulnerable. They kept me from the very solid existence in truth that I thought they gave me.
God’s house looked appealing. The problem was, I didn’t know how to live there. It felt too open, exposed, unknown. I looked back at my own house and thought, “Well, I can’t live there, but I don’t know how to live here.” I felt emotionally homeless.
Over the years, I have slowly been learning what it looks like to live more consistently in the house God has for me. It’s a house where life and love come not from something I do or what the world provides, but from His deep and unchanging love for me, and who He says I am.
I hoped at some point that I would be able to burn the old house down so that it was no longer an option. This seems reasonable to me – why would God want me to live somewhere else? At times I have asked Him to put me in His house, to lock the doors and board up the windows, so that I can never leave. I know that every time I try to use my own strategies to make life work, I dishonor Him. I deny His love for me. I reject the life He offers. I put myself back in prison. I want Him to keep me from doing that.
But He won’t. The choice is there every day for me. Will I choose to rely on my own ways? Or will I leave behind what feels like life and trust in that which truly is? It means living by faith, having the courage to be open, to keep my heart awake, to not retreat to safety but hold tight to Him.
Ah, sweet victory – I’m done! I could stop here and say that my victory today is crossing the finish line, completing the challenge, but I feel it would be a good time to stop and reflect on what I’m taking with me from this month.
Sometimes in life there are clear victories, victories that even the world has to stop and commend as well done. Epic victories, if you will.
Other days, they’re smaller. Maybe like finding new awesome pants, or making a Halloween costume in 5 minutes (yep, did that today) or avoiding a $164 ticket.
But most days you have to look harder. You have to look past what the world values as worth celebrating, and recognize where the victory really is. It feels like for me it’s usually in the small choices I make – grace, joy, peace, patience, where they wouldn’t have been otherwise.
But for the days when it seems no victory is in sight, there is always one. The awesome truth I’m claiming as victory today is this: we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. No matter what happens today, I’m coming out ahead in the end because I have Him on my side. That’s a victory no one can take away.
“But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:57
My victory came late last night, and today was full. Hence, day 30 at the end of day 31.
When we lived overseas, I met weekly with two dear friends of mine. Toward the end of my time there, we were joined by yet another friend. We would share with each other how we were doing and how they could pray for us, and then we would pray. We laughed. We cried. We wrestled with God for each other. Those were some of my most honest moments. Good stuff.
Since coming here, it’s been one of the things I’ve missed the most. The four of us currently live in four locations in three countries. Time zones are not our friend. Still, we have been trying to make a habit this fall, every other Wednesday, to google chat together. Last time we never successfully got all four of us on at the same time (we are not the most tech savvy bunch). Last night it looked like it might happen again.
But it didn’t. We muddled through decent connections and a dropped call or two, shared our requests, and finished by muting our mics and praying together. I have a note app on my phone in which I have recorded all the requests we’ve made over the last year. As we prayed, I scrolled through it, looking at past struggles and answered prayers, and I thought, “This is victory.”
“For where two or three gather in My name, there I am with them.” Matthew 18:20
We’re coming up on one year of living in Orlando. The first time we came down last year to see the house as a family was in October, when we observed that our neighbors down the street decorated extensively for Halloween. We’ve since learned they go all out for most holidays. About a month ago, their Halloween decor went up again, bloody sheets and all. It seems like this should make us feel like we’re gaining longevity here, but I’m still stuck on the fact that they have “No trespassing: will be shot” signs on their fence. We’re not trick or treating there.
But yesterday held another reminder that we are slowly settling in here. It was grandparent’s day at our kids’ school. They had one in the spring too, and Erik’s parents happened to be here for it which was fantastic. This time the commute was a bit too long. I attended though, and while some of the moms were setting up and taking down, a couple of the new ones had questions about what to do. I realized that I knew what had happened last time, and while that made me far from an expert, I had something to offer. On top of that, the night before when the kids were making lunches, they said, “Hey, tomorrow’s grandparent’s day. We don’t have to bring as much lunch!” Yes, let’s fill up on donut holes and cheese instead. We know how to do grandparent’s day.
It’s a funny victory to claim, because it wasn’t really anything we did – it was just recognizing that we’re getting there. Life will soon have more traditions and “this is how we do” moments. Each year our confederate neighbors will put up their excessive holiday decor and will remind us that this is home. It feels like roots. Little ones, but roots.
I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard someone make the comment, “You homeschool? Oh I could never do that. I’m not patient enough.”
Oh, is that what I’m supposed to have? Excuse me, then, I’m clearly in the wrong line of work.
I don’t know if I’ve ever had a job that asked more of me than parenting. Perhaps that’s why it’s easy to want to escape to something we feel like we do better, or at least something less demanding. It’s hard to stay in the midst of it sometimes, wholeheartedly, holding tight, giving it your all, let alone doing it victoriously.
But I’m realizing that staying in it is itself a victory. It’s saying, “You know what? Half the time I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but I love you so much that I’m going to keep doing it and trust that God will use what I give and pour grace over all the rest. I will keep pressing on because this is worth it.”
I was reminded sometime during the day of an old episode of Friends, where Monica (the one who certainly wanted to do it all the right way) takes a tap-dancing class.
When she first tries, she fails pretty miserably. By the end of the episode, she decides to go back and try again. I wanted to post the clip for it, but I couldn’t find it. Here’s the dialogue though:
Teacher: You by the door. In or out?
Monica : In. [She joins in the dancing. She still flounders]
Teacher: You in the back, you’re getting it all wrong!
Monica : Yeah, but at least I’m doing it!
Was I getting it all wrong today? No, not really. Probably sometimes – that’s just parenting. But at least I was doing it. That’s a victory in itself.
Our kids are in that stage between toys and whatever comes next to fill their free time – jobs? Friends? I don’t know. All I know is that Candyland doesn’t entertain them anymore (and I think we’re all a little thankful for that).
It’s hard to know how to occupy our free time well with them when it seems most activities one of us suggests have a 2 or 3 out of 4 approval rate. I have dreams of us being a family that always love spending time together doing wildly creative things, but finding things that all of us consistently want to do feels like trying to find four leaf clovers or the holy grail.
Sometimes, though, it happens. Megan’s been wanting to play a certain game on the trampoline with the whole family for over a week now. She usually suggests doing it immediately after dinner, which causes the adults in the family to preemptively vomit a little just thinking about it. Tonight we gave ourselves a little time to digest and then hopped up there for the game Megan calls “dead man.” It’s basically Marco Polo on the trampoline.
Unfortunately, our son decided he wasn’t into it, so our magical foursome activity looked doomed. A few minutes later, he concluded he was bored enough to join us, and we proceeded to play. In the middle of jumping and laughing and screaming and catching each other, I thought, “This is a victory moment.” It was a sweet time, and I’m thankful for it.
There is an intersection here at Hwy 528 and the Florida turnpike that’s a little nutty. It feels like some maniacal engineers drew the plans to ensure the highest number of people would accidentally be forced out in a place not their intended destination. There should be a sign at the entrance, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”
Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating because the first two times I tried to navigate it, I came out in completely the wrong direction and had to drive 20 minutes to get turned back the right way. It’s enough to make even someone who has successfully driven the streets of China apprehensive.
I have to drive this way most weekends to get to our daughter’s “home” soccer games which are in The Villages. For you native central Floridians, that’s Lake Nona to The Villages. “Home.” For those in my hometown, imagine your home field is in Bloomington. Uff da. Anyone else, we’re talking over an hour.
Today, I determined that this intersection would not cause me a moment of anxiety. In fact, I would do it without consulting my map! And lo and behold, I did it! Victory! It’s the little things, remember? I feel now that I could conquer anything those Floridian engineers throw my way.
It’s hard to find victory in being pulled over by the police, but I’m going to try.
First of all, just before I left the house, I almost didn’t grab my purse because it was just a short drive to drop our daughter off at a birthday party. I had this thought though, “What if I get pulled over?” which was really the Holy Spirit saying, “Gina, you don’t know it, but you’re about to do something stupid. Let’s not make it stupider.” I’m just going to call that the grace of God.
Second, this was a nice police officer. I mean really, genuinely nice. Again, pure grace of God.
So he asked me the classic, “Do you know why I pulled you over?” and I honestly, truly did not. Apparently I rolled through a stop sign (in my defense – a stop sign at an L in the road). He asked me, “Do you realize that you need to come to a full and complete stop at a stop sign?” Yes, yes I do officer. (why do they ask questions that beg for sarcasm?)
Then he asked me, “Do you realize that there is a $164 fine and 3 points off your license if you do not come to a full and complete stop at a stop sign?” No, no I did not.
“I’m going to go back to my car and decide if I need to give you this $164 fine.”
So I got to wait while he consulted the police gods on my fate. In a few minutes he came back and said, “I’d really like to not have to give you a $164 fine,” to which I responded, “I would so appreciate it if you did not.”
His conclusion was, “You’ve been very nice to me, so I’m going to be nice to you and not give you this $164 fine” (Wait, can you remind me how much it is again?). “As long as you promise me you will come to a full and complete stop at stop signs in the future” (full and complete, I’m on it).
So I guess my victory could be avoiding a (clearly) $164 fine? I’d say the greater victory for me was not crying in front of the police officer who undid me with his patience and kindness in the midst of my embarrassment and anxiety. It was certainly a humbling moment. Maybe just experiencing it and staying in it was victory enough.
There exists out there a wonderful tool for personal and career assessment called the Birkman. One of the things it measure is 11 components of how you function in a work environment. It tells you what your usual behavior is, what you need from others, and what kind of crazy you do when you don’t get it. (well, they just call it stress behavior).
I heart the Birkman because it finally explained me to me. See, with most people, their usual behavior and needs line up – like if they like to work alone, they also need others to leave them alone. They’re easy to read. Not me. I like to keep it interesting. On 7 of the 11 components I have what is called a “cross” where my usual behavior is on one side of the spectrum but my need is the opposite. Then sometimes my crazy stress behavior runs back to the other side. I like to keep people guessing!
Two of my “crosses” are in Activity and Thought. In Activity, I have a fairly high score, meaning I like to be busy. I operate best there. But my need is lower, which means I do actually need to take the time to think before I do things. My Thought score is low – I will make snap decisions most of the time. Unfortunately, my need is high, which means I later take the time to think about my decisions and often regret my rashness.
That’s all a long introduction to yesterday’s victory o’ the day. Because my usual behavior on these two components makes me run top speed without much thought, I know that I need to discipline myself to take time for reflection and planning, or I get worn out and lose focus. Resisting the temptation to do instead is difficult. But I did. I spent all of yesterday (aside from one hour of a massage which was glorious) planning and praying and thinking about my life. It was so good. Now I’m off again!
