Between a Bear and a Hard Place

On a sunny, blue sky day in July 2020, my husband, Brent, and I decided we would take an overnight hike to a beautiful waterfall we had read about but never seen. We carefully planned our route, packed our backpacks, and started walking from our ranch in northwest Wyoming towards the adjoining Shoshone National Forest. Out the door before sunrise and feeling strong, we chose to climb Jim Mountain–elevation 10,430 ft–on the way. In retrospect, this rigorous climb was probably a bad idea since the afternoon heat was stifling, and the additional distance to our chosen destination was turning out to be farther than we had planned. What started off as cheerful banter between us had deteriorated into irritated grumbling. Then in the far mountains we saw it–only the faintest white ribbon descending–and the promise of beauty drew us across the grassy valley towards our waterfall. Gaining ground, I saw something dark moving in the distance and remarked to my husband, “Hey, what’s that animal up there?” Brent, focused and barely looking up, replied, “Probably a mule deer.” 

As we got closer to the animal, I saw that it was actually two animals. Closer yet and I saw the telltale hump between the shoulder blades of the larger Grizzly Bear! A mama and a baby bear were out for their evening meal which presently consisted of grass. As mama lifted her head to sniff, I could tell she was hoping to add some meat to her menu. By this time, I had been quietly yelling, “Those are Grizzly Bears!” and other panicked exclamations while Brent kept telling me that our trail was “just past the bears”. When my husband has a goal, changing plans is a very hard sell.

This is the point in the story where things get a little ugly. Brent insisted we keep going and quietly sneak past the beasts. I sadly envisioned our kids telling the story about Mom being eaten by a wild animal. The distance between Brent and I widened as he pushed toward the trail, and I moved in the opposite direction. Suddenly, with the wind whipping wildly, I noticed I was approaching an immense cavern. Here were my present options: Go left and fall to my death off a cliff; go right and become supper for a bear. Overwhelmed, I slumped down to the ground, holding onto a boulder so I wouldn’t blow away. I cried with loud and miserable sobs. Brent eventually turned around, told me gently to get up, and took my hand. Discarding his waterfall hopes, he led me to solid ground–in the opposite direction of the waterfall and the bears.

My recent journey through menopause, midlife, and empty-nest marriage has often made me think of this waterfall-hunting misadventure. Already tired from the strenuous job of raising four humans, I was trekking on to get to my beautiful waterfall years, which I envisioned to be filled with sunshine and gorgeous wildflowers. Instead, my path led me to some unfamiliar manifestations of the layered life transitions I was experiencing. 

Menopause seen from a distance seemed harmless, part of the natural order of things. But up close, it threatened to eat my confidence. Midlife offered new freedoms, but I was unprepared for the anxiety produced by standing on the edge of an unknown precipice. And marriage after the kids left our home was often so confounding that I just wanted to hold onto a rock and cry my eyes out. 

But here is where the story gets better–beautiful even. When I was all of these things, trying to withstand the winds of change by my own power and will, crying with loud and miserable sobs, I became overwhelmed by all the changes in this midlife time. Finally, and with a little help from my friends, I ran to God. Not immediately. Not always willingly. But eventually. I got to the limits of my abilities to cope, and I went to the safest place I knew: The Rock of Ages, my only solid ground.

Sometimes we think navigating life’s tough passes requires great personal strength and fortitude, but in my midlife journey, I have found the opposite to be true. Peace during times of change requires a surrender of control, not a white-knuckled grasp for it. If we humbly accept the path God has us on during major life transitions, we can trust that he will take us by the hand and pull us up. But unlike an exasperated Brent, God will not lead us away from the goal; he has equipped us for this very journey. By hiking the scary path in our place many many years ago, he secured safe passage for us. Now, by his Spirit, we can walk right past the bears and alongside the canyon without fear of falling in. And if we keep faithfully following his steps, he will lovingly lead us into the awesome waterfall of his grace. 

Trust in the Lord forever,

    for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal.

~Isaiah 26:4

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

    my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

    my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

~Psalm 18:2

Red Bird Devotions #26

Lingerer

lin·ger·ing

/ˈliNGɡ(ə)riNG/

Learn to pronounce

adjective

lasting for a long time or slow to end.

I've been thinking a lot about lingering lately.  Lingering around the dinner table.  Lingering in the forest when I take a walk. Lingering in the Word when I take the time to read it well.  

And I have been realizing that I haven't been lingering enough.

When I linger after a meal and forget about the clean up and about the dirty pans on the stove, I learn about Brent's excitement for a new project or his hopes for the future.  And as I look at his face and listen to his voice, I remember that I need to pray for him regularly and believe the best in him.  I remember what sweet gift God gave me when he gave me my husband.  I remember to linger, right now, in this beautiful relationship that is mine.

When I linger in the forest and feel the wind blowing the autumn leaves softly; when see them fall like rain upon my path, and when I hear them crunch beneath my feet, I remember that God didn't have to make the seasons change and provide such beauty each fall for us; but he chose to give us melodious birdsong and clean air and warm sunshine because he longs to care for us.  I remember to linger, right now, and recall that I serve the lavish God of creation.

When I linger in the Word of God written by him through divinely-inspired human hands, I remember that I can know him better by reading it, by meditating on it, by studying it.  When I read Scripture not to finish but to change, I tune my ear to listen for his voice. When I linger in these pages--his pages--I see the constant forgiveness he offers, the abundant grace he provides, and the unending devotion he displays to his children...like me.  I remember to linger, right now, at the feet of my Savior, reveling in the reality of his presence in my life.  

I want to remember to linger more.

I want to be present in every moment of this very precious life.  

I want a life well-lived, a mind well-used, a peace well-embodied.  I want to be well-known by Jesus. 

May I linger in his blessings, linger in his beauty, linger in his book.   

May my mind be captivated by loving, and lingering upon, our great and glorious God.

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”  

Luke 10:38-42

Red Bird Devotions #21

Living For Jesus

When the children were babies and Brent would rock them to sleep, he always sang the same song. Brent is not a singer (and I think maybe this is the only song where he knew all the words. He learned it in Cadets as a child) but his slightly off-key voice always sounded so sweet as he sang this to our sleepy babies lying in his arms.

I remember one night, when I was sad, my sweet husband sang this same song to me. As I listened to the words coming out of his mouth, I was struck by the solidity of the truth they contained. So…I decided to share them with you. Here they are:

"Living for Jesus”

Living for Jesus, a life that is true,
Striving to please Him in all that I do;
Yielding allegiance, glad hearted and free,
This is the pathway of blessing for me. 
O Jesus Lord and Savior, I give myself to Thee,
For Thou, in Thy atonement, didst give Thyself for me.
I own no other Master, my heart shall be Thy throne.
My life I give, henceforth to live, O Christ, for Thee alone.

Living for Jesus can be so simple.

And we make it so hard.

When we yield allegiance to ourselves and make Him our only Master, we truly will be glad hearted and free.

Let’s try it, shall we?

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

John 8:36

Red Bird Devotions #19

Dangerous Amnesia 
(repost from 3/22/10)

“Sometimes we forget love”.

When I saw this posted as my son’s Facebook status, it made contemplate my life. I don’t ever forget love, do I?

I do.

Sometimes, when I am rushed and burdened and trying to complete the last lines of a well-thought out essay, and my precious daughter comes to talk to me, to give me a kiss good-night, I kiss her hurriedly—really wishing her already to bed—really only caring about completing my agenda; Then, I forget love.

When my teenage son is grumpy because he is over-homeworked, over-exerted and under-slept, and all I can do is criticize him because of his forgetfulness or his lack of joy; Then, I forget love.

When my husband isn’t like me and I judge him for the way he thinks or acts or perceives life in general, and not only do I think it, but I tell him I think it; Then, I forget love.

When I so desire someone to know Christ, and I give them a Bible and I talk to them about God and I tell them about Grace, but I don’t invite them to be a part of my life, nor do I get involved in their life; Then, I forget love.

When I pray to God for me and my family and my stuff, but I never ask God about Himself or about His purposes or about His Joy, and I never see beyond myself to His Majesty; Then, I forget love.

When I forget that it was Jesus who died to take my place—on a cross, with nails and blood and pain and with all the horrors of my sin heaped upon his broken body; Then, I forget love.

O Father God, keep reminding, keep reminding. I don’t want to forget. To Love.

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

Colossians 3:12-14

Red Bird Devotions #15

Broken

Two years ago, I fell on the ice and broke my wrist. I was rushing down a hill in our backyard that I had rushed down hundreds of times, but this time there was snow. And the snow had turned into ice as it sometimes does in our strange cold-warm-then cold again Iowa winters. I had dashed out coatless and shoeless (I was wearing slippers--maybe that is why they are called that) to feed the hungry dog.  All of a sudden, my feet slipped out from under me, and I caught myself with my left hand.  Being cold and in a hurry, I quickly jumped up, grabbed my watch, which had snapped off of my wrist, and proceeded down the hill and into the dog’s kennel.  When I got to the concrete below, I noticed that my arm was throbbing, and I looked down to see my left hand sitting atop my left arm in the place where my wrist had been (I have graciously spared you the picture.). Needless to say, all was not well.  I went ahead and fed the dog and then walked back up the hill and went inside. Then I called Brent on the phone and said, “I did something bad to my arm.  It looks really deformed.”  Within 20 minutes, he had arrived, and we were heading to the Emergency Room.  When I presented my deformation to the girl at the desk, she gagged slightly and then got me into a doctor ASAP.  When the doctor saw my misshapen limb, he proceeded to send me to X-ray.  The X-rays showed that I had broken my very first bone at age 50. 

After a few weeks in a huge cast from my armpit to my hand, my bones were not healing correctly, so surgery was scheduled.  My body wasn’t able to align my bones itself, so a surgeon--with a mask and power tools (I heard them in my twilight sleep)-- had to place a plate and some screws inside my arm to hold my wrist in the right position.

What would have happened if I refused surgery and let my bones heal on their own?  If I left the cast on, took extra vitamins and visualized it as “all better” ?  My bones actually would have healed, but incorrectly; the structure wouldn’t be the same as before and I would have probably lost some use of my wrist--maybe even my entire arm.  I couldn’t properly fix my wrist all by myself.  I needed a physician’s help. My wrist is nearly perfect now (though I can see the embedded plate move when I wiggle my fingers back and forth; ask me to demonstrate sometime)…because I sought help from without.  Relying on my own methods or practices would never have fixed the effects of my fall. 

Sometimes, I treat my feelings the way I was tempted to treat my wrist; I try to manage them on my own because giving the control of them up to “Someone else” seems too scary.  But it is only when I submit to this Someone--this God who made me, weak wrists and all--that I can truly use my emotions correctly.  You see, my emotions are also broken because of the Fall; in my natural responses to life, I want to nurse my grudges, elevate my opinions, and play the victim when things don't go my way. When I react with my default mechanism (which for me is self-pity over submission), I am unable to use my feelings the way that God designed me to do. 

 As my wrist healed from the surgery--an actual event in time--the doctor prescribed certain exercises to strengthen the surrounding muscles and help them adjust to this new way of moving.  When Jesus places his Spirit within us--an actual event in time--we can practice certain disciplines to help us learn to walk in step with him.  These disciplines don’t give us salvation--only Jesus can do that--but they train our hearts and our minds to think like a child of God; we practice spiritual disciplines, like reading our Bibles, praying, and meditating on the goodness of our Father, to strengthen our spiritual “muscles.” 

It takes deliberation and practice to walk as a child of God.  And falling is inevitable.  But faith in the Great Physician strengthens our resolve and keeps us on solid ground. 

Amen and amen.

“Do not be conformed to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind; then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will.” Romans 12:2