Spider Webs and Mountaintops

          There is a spider web outside my window. No spider works there, but bits of leaves and dust and a dead fly remain trapped in a gauzy maze. Occasionally a breeze will move the web and I silently hope for release for the fly. I silently hope the web will just blow away on its own or be washed clean by a rainfall and remove itself from my view. But instead I wait and look at it. I wonder why I don’t take charge and clean the windowsill and be rid of spiderwebs and death fragments and entrapment. I know I will—I just have to get to the place where I decide it is time for it to go.  I have to get to the place where I will change. 

Where is the place we change? Is it when we have had enough? Is it the place where we can’t stand ourselves anymore? Is it when we have new insights, new direction, and new inspiration? Is it when we seek change from those around us who offer an idea, a word of encouragement, a hope-holding hand along with some spoken words of truth?

Why do we resist change? It’s not because we enjoy looking at dead flies caught in spider webs.  Sometimes the webs are gnarly and sticky and we are caught and it is just plain hard to get out of it. It holds us in a grip and entwines around us, until like the fly, we become exhausted simply trying to flee.  All of our energy is devoted to breaking free, leaving no energy for productivity and meaning.  And we forget how good it feels to fly. And we die.

I belong to an energetic group of women writers who trek to a mountain house every year and we work through some of the “webs” in our writing. The webs are all shapes and sizes. Some are fresh. Some are in need of major de-webbing. And some just need a little sweeping with a whisk broom. But each writer brings ideas and encouragement and hands to hold and words to encourage.  The view of the mountain range keeps us focused on the goal. What goal is that? That somewhere out there, just over that mountain, the words will come. Somehow the spider webs become insignificant. The entrapment loses its gnarly grip and we become free to write, free to grow, and free to become all that God intends us to become.

And so how do we change? We surrender old ways and commit to new ways. On the final night of retreat, we set goals for ourselves and offered comments and questions about those goals. A scribe even wrote them down and will send them out—written in words to hold us accountable to one another, dated so we can measure our productivity, reminding us that we have viewed the mountaintops—and somehow, the spider webs  seem insignificant.

Psalm 121:1 “I lift my eyes to the hills; where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

 

 

I'm Glad You Are Here

           Today I walked into a meeting and a man who recently lost his wife. I touched his arm and whispered, "I am glad you are here." I thought about saying, "How are you doing?' But I realized so often when I am asked that question I never really tell the truth. I fumble around, say something cheery like, "I'm doing rather well. What about you?" And if you wait long enough, people will generally find something to say about themselves, relieving them of their initial question, freeing them up to not have to talk about your grief.

There are times when we just cannot face our own grief - or that of another.

Just being honest here. Because that is how we feel - sometimes. Oh, it is not that I did not care. I do care. But today I just could not "go there" and hear about the struggle, the pain, the endless questions that pour forth from someone who is grieving. Sometimes we just have to admit that we are not who we hope to be when confronted with the pain of another.

And that is when we must ask God to forgive us, restore us, renew us with His love.

And He does.

Satan works very hard to tempt us, to lure us away from the possibility of being of value to God. Oswald Chambers says that Satan wants to shift our point of view from God to ourselves. And when we allow that - on our weak days - we become self-focused, self-absorbed, hurt, disengaged, even angry. And Satan is so pleased. Our grief has won and we feel doomed. And that is when we need to get back in the scripture and read where Jesus was tempted by Satan. We need to remind ourselves that Jesus never became weary or exhausted, and that we have a perfect model for our lives through Him.

So that we can stop and talk to that person who might need a kind word from us.

So that we can face our own grief, trusting that Jesus knows all about it.

And He does.

Where Do Butterflies Go When It Rains?

    

 

  For seven days it has rained without stopping.But the morning started out dry and I looked out my window to see blooms waking up everywhere.  I pulled on my boots and waded through my drenched garden, uncovering some garlic chives trying desperately to bloom underneath the goldenrod.  To my surprise, out fluttered a sleepy butterfly.  I suppose I woke him up and it made me wonder where butterflies go when it rains.  

For a butterfly, seven days of rain takes about half of their lifetime as they take shelter under leaves until the rains subside.  And if the rain is pounding as it has been in Atlanta this summer, sometimes their wings get torn and they die an untimely death.  I am relieved to see that the butterflies are alive and well after seven days.  In fact, I am envious of their playful nature, hanging lazily upside down, flying free in the dry, warm air, putting on a show for those who notice. 

Where do we go when it rains? Usually, we just plod through with an umbrella or a jacket.  But the rains in Atlanta have pelted our homes and gardens, creeped into our basements, swept away bridges and toppled trees.  Then what do we do?  We get to work, call repairmen and we wait.  We gather our candles and flashlights and for a little while it is quaint – the quiet that is - but we soon become impatient for life to resume some sense of normalcy. 

In offering a short devotional at a meeting, I really wanted to begin by saying, “Into every life a little rain must fall” trying to make a joke about our continuous rain, but I knew that it would be interpreted in a way where people would feel sad.  So I chose something safer to say. But I find lessons in the butterflies.  Oh, how we want to live life to the fullest.  Oh, how we want to “hang upside down” and fly through life with only sunshine. Maybe we tolerate a shower or two, but certainly none of us welcome rains that destroy and displace. 

One thing is for sure, we cannot predict the weather. We cannot predict the rainfall for our lives, nor would any of us want to know the forecast. But we can plan for rainy days, do everything we can to protect and provide, and then armed, we can seek shelter from the storm.  How?  Well, sometimes we hide like the butterflies – behind masks of self-preservation and a simple will to survive.  But healthier ways are to seek shelter with our family and friends. We find comfort in being with our church family. We find strength in personal study of scriptures like “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you” Isaiah 43:2.

It’s been dark and gloomy for a solid week. I’ve hidden myself a little.  But the sun is out.  The butterflies are beckoning.