Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Sunglasses on a Cloudy Day...

The synopsis of my muddled brain which follows requires (at least) two back stories...

Back Story 1: If you know me personally, or interact with me on a relatively normal basis, you are probably already aware: I have this thing for sunglasses.  It stems, at least in partial, from necessity rooted in especially sensitive eyes (my doc told me back in the day radiation would intensify this and it’s a legit warning on the label of my life-preserving medication).  I rarely go anywhere without a pair of sunglasses.  Even if it doesn’t seem necessary.  There is nothing worse than suddenly needing sunglasses and not having any.  Also I have a few issues (friends and family call it my “OCD” but really I just like things to match...and be in alphabetical order...and to keep track of percentages as I read or complete a project...and a couple other small things...) and I really like when my sunglasses (like my socks and underwear) match my outfit.  Which has resulted in me purchasing multiple pairs of sunglasses that I might have some for every occasion.  I have A LOT of sunglasses.  I was working at the elementary school for less than two hours when my first student noticed (I work on the playground, mostly) my “shades”.  And, as the weeks progressed, my students would begin to watch and look for my various pairs...and then note how they matched...and how I ALWAYS had them with me...

Back Story 2: (Connected to the Prior) I have a “Lunch Box” which I keep with me at work.  It is an old Whitman’s Chocolate Sampler box which contains “musical chairs”, Story Cubes, Mad Gab, Silly Putty, Would You Rather?... Once my kiddos sit down with their lunches I find a table group with whom I haven’t sat in a while and we play games until lunch recess.  I/it gets fought over with every grade at every lunch.  I love the way it fosters their imagination and lets me into their worlds in subtle ways.  They are obsessed with “Would You Rather” (Story Cubes a close second).  One of the questions (a frequent reoccurrence) is “Would You Rather...have a bestselling book or top-chart song written about you?” I typically follow their answers with “what would the title be?” and receive many eclectic responses.  A fourth grader asked me what my title would be and another instantly responded with “It should be something about her sunglasses!” A pair were propped characteristically on the top of my head – despite the fact the day was cloudy at best. 

The title of the best-selling book (obviously it was book! Psh!) written about my life?

“Sunglasses on a Cloudy Day”

Though probably a mid October declaration, it has been a favorite thing to ponder.  (The title not the hypothetical book).  I smirk when that question comes back into rotation.  I sometimes find myself reflective as I go to pick out the most suitable pair for the day. 

Sunglasses on a Cloudy Day  

This is not a title that would refer to my chronic over-preparedness. It goes deeper than that.  The longer I’ve sat with this make-believe title, the less whimsical it appears and the more defining it becomes...of me and my life as whole. 

Wearing sunglasses even if the sun isn’t shining yet is not about “thinking ahead”; it is not the result of mere folly; it isn’t even definitely connected to my innate fear of being caught with burning retinas.  It’s about the “yet”.  The sun isn’t shining...yet. 

Wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day is about expectation.  It’s about hope...

I have a love/hate relationship with the word “hope”.  It, (with the word “joy”), has been one of my “words” for several years. Definitively...eight (although perceivably longer).  It is a love/hate relationship because I love what it means, what it stands for, what it refers to in my life...but it was a word thrust upon me more than it was a word I chose.  A word rich with meaning, especially in my life, and so I love it.  But a word so rich I struggle to live into it and so I hate it because it demands so much of me. 

Yet in seasons of my life such as this, it’s a word close to my heart, nearly always on my mind. This is an apt time for me to consider.  My brain and heart are oft busy this time of year regardless of the rest of life.

It’s December 29.  I am somewhere directly in-between my eight year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis (12.26) and my eight year anniversary of receiving my smile-shaped necklace scar (1.3).  I’ve officially been clear as long as I was diagnosed and yet my wheels spin and my memory blasts quickly and sharply and raw.  It often does about this time of year.  It’s strange to have to process something which turned my life upside down and inside out and spit me out with pieces of my world screaming “where is your God?”

It was the beginning of my journey with hope.  It didn’t happen all at once.  It wasn’t something I could see or understand from the beginning.  But it was the gift I was given.  I was given the picture of a “glimpse”...when it is stormy and the sky is gray and clouds completely cover the skyline and there is just gray, forever gray.  But then the clouds break, just a little, just a moment...in that break the sun pours through and floods a piece of the sky, though small, with light.  And there is the reminder that all along the sun has existed just beyond the clouds.  

Hope is realizing and putting faith and trust beyond the temporary and holding out for the transformational. It is Abraham’s hope, acting on the promise that God is going to show up. Collins, a Christian counselor wrote that hope is “more than the wish that God will perform a miracle. It is the confidence that God, who is living and sovereign, also controls all things and can be expected to bring to pass that which ultimately is best...”  Hope arises out of the belief that God sustains; God restores.

In the world's worst research paper (it was a “good” paper but totally removed from my heart on the matter in order to please a finicky professor) I had to detail how hope was integrated into the counseling office. In the midst of my research I poured through passages of scripture dealing with hope.  I was struck anew by the fact hope rarely stands alone and is seldom admonished or pursued separate of suffering and the faithfulness of God...

The writer of Lamentations bemoans his predicament and is burdened with bitterness and affliction but transitions to an attitude of hope stating “Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, His compassion never fails...” (Lamentations 3:19-26, emphasis added). God’s faithfulness is the “therefore”. 

On the other side of the resurrection there is an additional understanding of the promise given to Christians of God’s power, presence, and authority.  Peter refers to it as “living hope” – implying it is not stagnant but active and growing – which is made possible through the resurrection of Jesus and fulfilled in an inheritance resulting from suffering of many trials (1 Peter 1:3-9). 

Paul expresses it even further stating not just the inheritance but the suffering itself should be rejoiced in; not for the suffering in and of itself but for what it accomplishes: “Not only so but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character hope.  And hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:3-5).

Trials, suffering, and crises give way to hope when properly considered and, unlike the crisis itself, it will not disappoint.   Suffering births hope.

So...why this? Why now? What now?

Here I am on December 29.  Part way between Christmas and the start of a New Year.  Two calendar days which sandwich the depth of “hope”.  The New Year always has this way of encompassing the idea of anticipation and expectation and looking forward to not what has been but what will be.  And Christmas, Christmas is the reality of hope fulfilled.  The ultimate display of what it means for God to “show up”; what it means for God to fulfill His promises; what it means for God’s faithfulness to break into the lives of a hurting world; what it means to continue to give reason, to be the “therefore” of hope. 

So I find myself looking forward, which is forcing me to look back.  I am considering what 2016 will hold, where I am and what I’m doing and what God possibly is thinking with the life He has me living.  I struggle to see His plan, His purpose, and sometimes...His presence. 

This time of year can be hard to process.  Hard to recall.  It’s life. It happens...because it happened.  But it also can be a refreshing and joy filled reminder.  “This I call to mind and therefore I hope...”  God has been SO faithful in my life in so many places, so many ways – ways far greater and thicker and richer than the questions and doubts I find myself with.

So instead I find myself wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day.  Filled with expectation rooted in the promises of the transformational. Because every so often the sun breaks through the clouds and I’m reminded it has been there all along...

1 comment:

ee said...

Thanks for sharing your heart and your hope. This was good for my soul tonight. Love you, Anika!
--Erin