BrainBender: Togglers

Problem is posed in first 5 minutes. Give yourself 24 Hrs to solve, then watch the second half to check your solution (or find relief). 



Taking the "Truth-Teller Amongst Togglers Dilemma" to bed with me-- find the truth-teller in only two questions:

Elizabeth Smart's Story

I recently picked up Elizabeth Smart's book at a local thrift store. 

It terrified me. As in, check all the closets, lock all the doors, "What was that noise?!" terrified me. 

It was not unlike watching a Criminal Minds episode... too late at night... and home all alone. 

I finished the book shortly before bedtime and so, I slept with flashlight and pepper spray nearby and I set up noise traps at RyeBird's windows.

She usually eventually ends up in 'the big bed' with us, but for the 45 minutes where she actually slept in her own bed, it was extra peace of mind. I did not sleep in  MY own bed. I just lay there, hyper-vigilant.  

~*~

 Sometimes, it is nice to pretend that the world isn't as sick and twisted as it really is, but stories like this deny that charade. The world is broken...very, very badly in some places. 

The month prior to this, I had picked up Jaycee Duggard's story at a different thrift store. Also scary. So I am now convinced that we are all surrounded by crazy, scary villains... and we probably really are. 

I think the premeditation element was the scariest to read about. I have never thought of crimes of this nature carried out on a whim, but neither have I considered the great lengths one may go to target a victim, either.



I am guilty of making myself a sitting duck in the name of Good Samaritan-ship and, if it is possible, I also experienced retro-active fear for the times I could have been killed or endangered my family. And there was definitely retro-active gratitude & humility. 

I am more appreciative now of the various forms of self defense I have at my disposal and more determined than ever to remember to bring those methods along with me when I am out and about... and probably also when I am sound asleep, too. 

~*~

Scary as the books were, both also spoke strongly to the incredible, indomitable human spirit.

We have an amazing ability to heal and rebuild after bad things have happened...even really bad things.

 I was surprised by the sometimes wry and  humorous note that Elizabeth was able to take as she described her captor and time in captivity. I admire her spirit. And... it felt strange, but there were moments a small  laugh suddenly escaped my lips as I read along. 

In the book, Elizabeth's mom takes her aside shortly after her rescue and gives her some advice for the days to come. Perhaps it was because I've been rattled a bit by these abduction stories and needed something to hold on to or maybe I recognized quickly the simple but powerful truth in her words, for whatever reason, Mrs. Smart's words have stayed with me and continue to resonate.

 I will share that passage momentarily, but I see a bunny trail and I'm going to hop a few steps in its direction . 

Bunny Trail: 

Coming out of high school,one of my listed interests @ the colleges I previewed was Counseling. 

Sometimes I said I wanted to study Psychology. I wanted to listen to people for a living and be able to help them. I wanted to be Frasier. I wanted a patient like Bill Murray in "What About Bob". 

 Amongst other interests and leanings in the professional world, "counseling" has remained a constant on my list-as opposed to "Clown" which fell off way, way back somewhere, and "Artist" which is too sporadic and lacking in ability to make anything higher than the Hobby List. 

Though the interest and - I like to believe- a heart for counseling -- has  persisted, there have also been mental hurdles and hesitancy that I have known was there but haven't necessarily been able to articulate well . 

One of those hurdles has been this mentality: How can I possibly help someone who has been through something worse than I've ever imagined, much less experienced. What right do I have to speak into their life? What difference would it really make? 

If you marvel that I can doubt my ability to adequately counsel imaginary future counseling patients... well, stick around. That's all I can say. 

My Head Knowledge: Of course it's better to admit that you don't have all the answers, to sit quietly and hold a friend's hand than to talk too much or offer empty sentiments- or worse say the wrong, wrong thing in an old-fashioned-well-meant-road-to-hell-paving-event. 

My True Self Expectation: Save Everyone!Fix Everything!...and FAST!!!. 

~*~

I recently read a book about death and dying {On Death and Dying by Elizabeth Kubler Ross} that tossed a little more kindling on my counseling desires. It gave me some direction about the sort of counseling I might would like to see myself involved in someday... but that's another post entirely. By contrast, Smart's book- or more specifically, Smart's mom-  provided a practical model for speaking into the life of someone who has more scars than me. 

This is what she said:

 "Before it gets too crazy, I need to tell you something. This is important. Elizabeth, what this man has done is terrible. There aren't any words strong enough to describe how wicked and evil he is! He has taken nine months of your life that you will never get back again. But the best punishment you could ever give him is to be happy. To move forward with your life. To do exactly what you want. Because, yes, this will probably go to trial and some kind of sentencing will be given to him and that wicked woman. But even if that is true, you may never feel like justice has been served or that true restitution has been made. But you don't need to worry about that. At the end of the day, God is our ultimate judge. He will make up to you every pain and loss that you have suffered. And if it turns out that these wicked people are not punished here on Earth, it doesn't matter. His punishments are just. You don't ever have to worry. You don't ever have to think about them again. You be happy, Elizabeth. Just be happy. If you go and feel sorry for yourself, or if you dwell on what has happened, if you hold on to your pain, that is allowing him to steal more of your life away. So don't do that! Don't you let him! There is no way he deserves that. Not one more second of your life. You keep every second for yourself. You keep them and be happy. God will take care of the rest." (pg 285-286)

Not only did I find the thoughts behind these words extremely wise, but also very applicable to walking through any given life. Even my own, say.  And while I know there's a large chasm between speaking these words to a hurting heart and being heard I saw in this example the importance and the impact of simply being willing to speak them. I hope to be as brave and insightful, as loving and true to the hearts that inhabit my life.  

Grandpaw's Long Good-Bye

General Jackson Carnes

There has always been a small, unofficial tradition that accompanied visits to my grandparents' home. Whenever it was time to leave, generally after many, many false starts that resulted in visiting just a little longer, they would walk us out, give one last round of good bye hugs and kisses, and then they would stand in the drive way, smiling and waving until our car was out of sight.



I have noticed this tradition spill over into visits with my parents. And on those rare but wonderful mornings where Clay and I are able to steal a little porch time together before he heads out to work, I find myself remaining on the porch, where I see him off in much the same way...even when he is past the point of seeing me, I stand waving (or flicking the porch light), watching until he fades from view.



It is really a way of saying "I love you so, I hate to see you go..."



During my grandfather's funeral, I remarked to a few people that I saw a similarity in the way we had been asked to say farewell to him. Disease had demanded we all watch him slowly disappear,  his burial was that final moment of invisibility.



Over the last handful of years the disease that started out by slowly robbing from him one word or memory at a time began to rapidly snatch armloads without apology. He was left bankrupt of speech, mobility and a million other little things that you take for granted as permanent fixtures until they turn up missing, like eye twinkles.



By the time he left us completely last week, all that remained was a frail human frame and an ironclad legacy.



Much like standing in the driveway waving and waving and waving~ over the last few years we have been quietly waving and waving and waving goodbye- until we just couldn't see him anymore.

~*~

Some of us had conversations or interactions with Grandpa before the diagnosis was made that only later could we look back on as evidence of change.

"I really should be going now"

And then there was the diagnosis - but it had been declared over a strong and resilient old man. Nothing changed drastically at first. So, we poured another cup of coffee and enjoyed our visiting a little longer.

• New and never before heard stories. 


• Really, really listening to the old ones. 


• Thinking of questions we may someday want answered. 

"I've got to be going now... for real this time." 

Then, the changes did happen~a little too fast. Realization of the "Impending Irreversible" setting in as if he stood, jangling his keys and walking towards the door.

• Confused words. 


• Wrong names and mistaken identities


• Shuffle, Shuffle, Step.

"It's getting late, best hit the road before it gets dark."

With a sudden slam, like a car door, a shift into Reverse.

• A phone call about a  fall. 


• His broken neck nailing the basement shut


• Hospital Waiting Room Reunions

"It was good to see you all- and all together, too!" 

And then, it was all downhill. Time spent waving, and waving and waiting. 

• A sky blue hearse. 


• A life commemorated in slideshow. 


• Family gathered once more from all four corners. 

"I'll see you all again real soon !"

  I believe God turned that slow dissolve into a mercy, allowing us to come gently to a place in time where *General Jackson Carnes  no longer lives here on this old, fallen Earth.



We each gleaned a spirit of wanderlust and adventure from GJC... and as a result, we all live, well,  EVERYWHERE, really. Time afforded us all the opportunity to make necessary travel plans, to sit at his side and say good bye in our own special ways.



We are a large family, so this was no small mercy. Everyone was afforded ample time for a visit of their own. To obtain any needed closure or counsel.



Time also afforded us many lessons: lessons about what a life well-used looks like, lessons about dying gracefully and kindness and the wealth of leaving a truly good legacy.  We learned lessons about family and faith and service to one another, about what it means to touch lives. We all learned so much from this one life... and from the way this one life ended.

He was a teachable man.

He was also a willing teacher. 

~*~

During a visit before his decline in communication, Grandpaw shared a story that I had never heard before. As he told the story, it was the first time in my life hearing that he ever drank anything harder than Apple Cider Vinegar.



 Grandpaw was very careful with stories. He knew their powerful potential and the way they can be twisted into something other than what was intended. He never wanted us to use stories of his past to justify wrong choices for our present; he had lived a pretty adventurous life.



There were many stories that we were not permitted to hear because he loved us; he wanted to protect from inspiring folly.



And yet, when one of us had already waded into folly neck deep, those same stories were brought out of the vault, out of the self same love and protection. He would share his own journey humbly, not glorifying the folly, instead encouraging that 'the road is never to  narrow to turn around'.



As he shared with us that story, about putting an emptied whiskey bottle up on the mantle piece in his home- out of resolve **'no longer to linger' , he solidified for me that the redemption he had found in Christ was worth full abandonment of all the folly he had ever found before. He shared the story from that same resolved place where he drew the line all those decades ago. I could see for myself that he had never recanted. He never went back for a new bottle. He didn't make excuses.  He was well studied in the Scriptures and though he could have easily built an argument on Christian liberty, he didn't look for loopholes... for him, what he found in Christ quenched every kind of thirst.

He loved us and wanted the best for each of us.  He believed the best we could do was to know Christ. 

Grandpaw's life affirmed that desire and demonstrated Christ's love- in word & deed. 



Regardless of how grievous our mistakes, or how strongly he disagreed with some path or choice we may have made, he continued to love us, to be kind. He demonstrated the willingness to help, to come alongside, to simply be present.



Because his life directly informed mine, I know that he lived his life for the very prize of dying. I know that there was no greater joy than for this man to hear his children are walking in truth.



I am the granddaughter of General Jackson Carnes. A man who no longer lives on this earth but who lived out his faith and love for Christ in such a way that I know I will see him again.

*(a small entry I wrote about his diagnosis back in 2007)

** Featuring an autoharp

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Fathers

While looking for something celebratory for my nephew's birthday, I came across  this piece for mothers. In the interest of equality, I share this equally challenging & powerful piece on the calling of fathers.

I am grateful for the good fathers I know.

If you are a dad, I hope you celebrate the gift that God has given you in the form of your children and take to heart the call to disciple them & ready them to be presented back to their Giver someday. 

Mothers

As I was looking for something 'sentimental' of sorts, to mark my nephew's 5th birthday and to celebrate his mom and dad's 5th anniversary as parents 

(Reagan made them parents for the first ~but not last~ time) 

I came across this piece on motherhood. It seems to be an excerpt from a mother's day sermon at a church I've never been too.

It is a really good thought.

 It made me thankful for all the godly mothers I know. It also made me want to encourage those who may not value the calling God has placed on the life of a mother... especially friends and family who are moms but think that it doesn't count as much.

I hope you will be encouraged if you are a mom. I hope you will pass this on if you know any other mothers that need to be reminded... or perhaps told for the very first time.

And...if you happen to be a father? Well... there's something in there for you too 

:) Big Smiles Until We Meet Again 

Not The End

Our hearts are in Beaufort today. We stand in Spirit and in Prayer with the Cushman Family as they say "Good-Bye-For-Now" to their sweet little Ellie.