Author Archives: Mac

Dented, Part II

The following comment was posted in response to a piece I shared some time ago on the NightShift blog:

Well told Mac. Sometimes our dents tell a story about us or where we have been. Some of us wear our dents with pride, some hide them in shame. Either way, I’m of the mind that doesn’t like to mend those dents as they are reminders to me. Each time I see them, they help me remember both the happy & the sad times that allowed me to put them there.
I hope I’m on par with your story.
– Ryan

What Ryan said, about wearing our dents, came to mind this week as I’m struggling with making tough ministry decisions. Without going into specifics, I’m wondering if I’m equipped enough to do all that which God has called me to do. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed, especially when I’m in the heat of the battle.

My conversation this morning with Papa was similar to Moses’ appeal to God in Exodus 33: 12 to ‘guide him clearly along the way that He wanted him to travel so that he would understand God and walk acceptably before Him’ (my paraphrase). I’m asking Papa to do the same for me in the midst of my ‘dentedness’ – so aware of my humanness.

I wonder how many others feel dented as they struggle along life’s journey. I’d love to hear from some of my ‘fellow-denters’ today! Here’s the original post as a reminder:

The line up tonight never seemed to end. It was one thirsty traveller after the other, eyes diverted, hearts turned inward, always polite. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’. Hesitant smiles and nods responding to my, “What’s your name?” or “You have beautiful eyes” or “Thank you for waiting and being patient”…

One question rose above the clatter. “It’s okay to be dented. Right?”

A statement more than a question, then a pause. Waiting, begging for acknowledgement.

Caught off-guard, I stopped pouring iced-tea. I turned in the direction of the question and looked straight into a pair of deep brown eyes. Beautiful. A strange question! It caused me to pause – a Selah moment.

“Yes,” I answered, without thinking. It is okay to be dented. I was pretty sure it was okay to be dented because I often felt dented myself. Less than perfect. My honest answer sparked a smile and her eyes danced. She was heard, listened to. Understood. Valued.

I’ve often said over the years that each time I come to the street, I leave with a nugget. Her question tonight was my nugget.

As I rinsed off my dinner plate hours later, her question popped into my mind once again. Like a flash, an image of the front passenger side of my car popped into my thoughts. It had been accidentally dented a few months back.

Every time I glance at it, I have this crazy urge to get it fixed. It bothers me more than I care to admit. It’s not like I drive a fancy car. My truck is 14 years old, boasting almost 400,000 kilometres. I’m very grateful for the blessing of the ride, but somehow it now feels tarnished. It has this dent thing going on reminding me of its imperfection.

True confession? I’m a recovering perfectionist.

Tonight was a mind/heart altering moment. God reminded me that we are not perfect vessels. He loves us just the way we are – tarnished, broken, tired and messed up. And yes! Dented.

My old Ford Explorer has been faithful over the years. It’s okay she has a dent. Just like my new street friend. And just like me.

It is okay to be dented!

Right?

What brings me joy?

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Yesterday was stressful – wrestling with tough decisions, questioning compassion fatigue. In the midst of it all, I was challenged by this question, “What brings you joy, Mac?”

Silence for a second. Have you ever been asked that question? Without giving it much though, I tossed back a quick answer. In my heart I knew it was a cop-out.

Arsenio Hall (dating myself here) used to say, “Things that make you go hmmmm.” For me, it’s a ‘ping’ moment – something hits me, goes deep and keeps surfacing until I find the answer.

As I settled into bed last night, the question surfaced again. By now I’m pretty sure that Papa was the initiator of this query.

Being my usual inquisitive self, I looked up the definition of joy: “The passion or emotion excited by acquisition or expectation of good; pleasurable feelings or emotion caused by success, good fortune, and the life, or by a rational prospect of possessing what we love or desire; gladness; exhilaration of spirits; delight” (Brainyquote.com).

It struck me. Does success, good fortune or possessing what I love or desire bring me joy? Nope. For me, it’s much simpler…

Someone gets ‘it’. A spark. Eyes light up. A ‘shift’ begins to take place.

Teeny birds – soaring eagles!

“I love you Nana.”

“Thank you NightShift. You saved my life.”

Spring buds on trees – tulips poking noses upwards.

Sharing NightShift’s story and somebody leaning forward.

My puppies’ thumping tails as I come through the door.

Running along the water’s edge, wind in my hair, alone with Papa.

Sunsets.

Stolen, still moments with Papa.

So, I toss the same question to you today: what brings you joy?

Blessings come in different packages

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This is definitely not my favourite time of the year: tax season. Today, I’m battling discouragement with not having enough money to pay bills. I’m asking Papa to encourage and bless me in some way.

As I turn on to King George Boulevard, I pass by the Liberty Tax Office. My eye catches a red, Canadian maple leaf waving frantically at me. I wonder what a dreadful job this must be. Who could endure this unacknowledged, meaningless job – a maple leaf mascot dancing on Surrey’s sidewalks – ignored by the passing majority?

How many preoccupied motorists have passed by, oblivious to the heart beating behind the mask? I resolve to bless this maple leaf by smiling and waving back wildly as I travelled by.

My smile lingered several blocks down the road as I pulled into my office parking lot. Suddenly, a red blotch appeared in my rear-view mirror, pointed directly at me. I panicked for a second until I realized it was the maple leaf mascot. Curious, I opened the door to an enthusiastic voice asking, “Mac, how are you? It’s me!” as it advanced closer with every bounce into my personal space. I wasn’t thrilled.

I looked around to see if anyone was witnessing this interaction. After all, I’m in Whalley-World. Anything and everything happens here. I strained to peer beyond the mesh opening of the maple leaf’s watermelon-sized mouth to catch a glimpse of the face inside. No such luck. A mystery.

It speaks again, “It’s me. Don’t you remember me?” disappointment escalating with each syllable.

How would I know a person in a red maple leaf suit, I ask myself.

“I’m reading your book ‘The Shift’. It was a Christmas present. I love it!” the voice declared. Intrigued, I leaned in to see a joyful face beaming back at me. “It’s Shane. Remember me?”

I do remember Shane. He used to be homeless, struggling with drug addiction. Now clean and sober, he was carving out a meager income working as a mascot between jobs to pay the bills. He was happy and grateful to be working – even as a red maple leaf. I was humbled and blessed at the same time.

My heart soared. What a joy to see him free from the chains that had kept him bound for many years. Never in my wildest dreams did I think God would use a dancing maple leaf to bless me. Nor, in my wildest dreams did I think the book would bless a man in a red maple leaf suit. Blessings really do come in different packages.

Do I sense Papa and a few angels dancing with my friend! Oh happy day!

Love Song

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Sunshine flooded my bedroom early this morning as I wakened to a jubilant chorus that filled the air and thrilled my senses.

As I poured my first cup of coffee and rebooted my eyes, I scanned the treetops for the source of this powerful recital. There she was, a very tiny, tiny creature, perched alone on the highest limb of a towering cedar tree. Her little head thrown back in worship – singing for all her worth – her ballad resembling musical notes performed by an accomplished flautist.

What an amazing repertoire! Her pure and joyous solo performance cut through the rival reverberations of early morning traffic and annoying construction clamour.

I wondered if my miniature-feathered friend was announcing this weekend’s Easter celebrations to the neighbourhood. Was this her love song to her Creator? Her declaration of our Lord’s death and resurrection, God’s ultimate sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ, to save us?

My musings turned to other love songs as I wondered how many songs were written about love that could compete with this glorious rendition. Curious as usual, I scanned the web to discover that ‘love’ was indeed one of the most frequent subjects of song writers. One website stated 115 Number One Top Hits containing the word “love” in their title, ranging from Bing Crosby’s ‘I love you’ to Rihanna Feat’s & Calvin Harris’ ‘We found Love’.

As I reflect on my discovery, I realize that these love songs were written by man for earthly lovers, none of which could compare to the simplicity of the God-lifted heavenly chorus that blessed me this morning. Creation rejoices. “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands,” (Isaiah 55: 12 NIV) …and the birds of the air will rejoice (my paraphrase). My heart unites with Creation’s praise!

Imagine Papa, seated on His throne of Grace, delighting and breathing in the pure essence of our love song as it ascends into Heaven. My heart soars in gratitude and wonderment of how He gave His only begotten Son for me and for you so that we could live our lives in perfect relationship and harmony with Him for eternity.

“I love you Lord and I lift my voice to worship you, oh my soul rejoice.”

My feathered friend and me…

Her melodic notes, my out-of-tune accord. “Take joy my King, in what you hear.

May it be a sweet, sweet sound in Your ear!”

RelateWomen – 20 November 2012