Grace in "the Land of If Only"

Yesterday I initiated a car accident. (Shocking, I know!) I was leaving 35W to pick up something from my dad’s office and had to merge three lanes to get to 11^th Street. The cars were shuffling in and out as they tried to get over to 94, so I was (very responsibly) looking over my shoulder before merging. I turned to check for a clear lane before I merged into my last lane, and when I faced forward, the guy in front of me was at a standstill.

I punched the brake, swore, and my backpack went flying from the passenger seat as the front of the car crunched into his bumper. My body wrenched against the seatbelt like a ragdoll and I saw the ripple of impact as my hood bunched up.

We were at an underpass and pulled up onto the shoulder as best we could—he had bumped into the person in front of him. The cars pulled around us, crunching over the glass and fender bits. I sat clutching the steering wheel and started to cry as Kool 108 crooned Christmas music. The sandwiched driver climbed out, spreading his arms in a what-the-hell gesture, though he was probably thinking worse. He looked like a character I had seen in a movie, but I couldn’t quite place him. A cross between Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber and a Smurf, almost like Mayor Maywho in Carrey’s The Grinch.

When I came to my senses, I called my dad, called 911, and called my brother (whose car I was driving, though it really belonged to someone else). The ‘94 Chrysler La baron was drivable—we pulled off the exit and waited for the State Trooper to come file a report. I was still trying to gain control of my tears, and the two other drivers—Stuart and Michelle—were tremendously gracious about it (granted, most of the damage was done to my vehicle). “Is this your first accident?” they asked. Cool as cucumbers.

That day I learned how to exchange insurance information, and that 911 doesn’t ask what’s the nature of your emergency, but what the location is. I also learned that there is grace is not being able to determine the future. I kept thinking, if only I had stopped at the bank on the way out. If only I had gone to the coffee shop first and the office second, I might have changed the course of the future. As I reflected on it, I realized I was looking at it from the wrong angle. Instead of living in the land of If Only (a concept I read in a book by Robin Jones Gunn), I should be living in the land of grace. There was grace in the fact that I was not hurt, that Stuart and Michelle were not hurt. There was grace in my seatbelt, and that I was wearing my glasses (which I picked up not a week ago), and that I hadn’t been texting. Somehow I think there will be more grace as I work out the details of insurance and repair.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for God’s omniscience and grace in situations beyond my control. As I reflect over the past year, I am overwhelmed by God’s gracious hand in orchestrating my future (now my past) and I have assurance that he is omnipotent to continue that work of demonstrating grace again and again in my life.

 

 

 

Dear Grace...I have great news!

Today is a momentous day in history. Well, my history. Today is the day I opened my email inbox and saw these words: ENCOUNTER Acceptance.

My first publication where I get paid for putting my experiences into words. The editor even wrote, “We’d like to purchase “Free to Struggle” to publish,” as if I were doing them a favor! It was the most exhilarating feeling: They want me work. They want to pay me for my work. I’m an author! Wait, no—really? Am I? Does this count?

I’m still trying to decide.

I sent ENCOUNTER a piece in April about my experience as a member of a Frisbee team. It was dry and superfluous, lacking heart and impact (kind of like the experience, I suppose), and I wasn’t surprised it was rejected. I sent four other pieces in the following five months, and went to China with the hope of gleaning some writing material.

I did glean material, but not what I imagined. Going to another culture revealed some dangerous habits in my life that had been festering for at least twelve months and started to surface there, refusing to budge when I returned to the States. The piece is a testimonial about an eating disorder that might’ve sucked me into a secret hole of discontentment and guilt, had the Lord not been faithful in uprooting my idols.

His grace allowed me to see the signs and get help. His grace allowed me to struggle against temptation. His grace offered me forgiveness when I gave in. When I decided yesterday that writing is my calling and gave my boss notice, his grace appeared today in that acceptance email with the reassurance that he will provide for me. I am thankful for and worshipful of His faithfulness in things big and small!

Tomorrow I will have to come down to earth. The long nights and short deadlines, the writer’s block and painful transparency yet to come will be steady reminders that this calling is not always euphoria and contracts.

But there is grace for that, too. :)

(“Free to Struggle” will be published in Fall 2014, and I will put the link up after it’s printed, as I no longer own first rights!)

Marriage Isn't for Me, Dating Isn't for Me

Yesterday I read a blog post by Seth Adam Smith who says, "Having been married a year and a half, I've recently come to the conclusion that marriage isn't for me." I didn't understand why all my friends were sharing it on Facebook until I read further and captured his real meaning: marriage is for the other person.

While I am not married, I think his premise can be applied to the dating scene, especially since I believe dating should be an avenue to tying the knot. A year has passed since my embarkment of exploration on that wobbly gangplank called dating. At that auspicious time, the walkway eluded to journeying, adventuring, and treasure. I didn't think about getting lost en route, thwarting weather, or sea sickness. I quickly learned that not every ship makes its destination.

My well-intended philosophy of dating-maps-a-route-to-marriage was run-aground, and I thought it was my own failure as a crewman. During those months and the year that followed, Smith's philosophy never occurred to me. In hindsight, it probably wasn't my panic attacks, stress, doubt, or other uncontrollable things that steered the ship into the rocks. It was my own selfishness.

You know the breakup phrase, "It's not you, it's me." Well, you're on the second star to the right and straight on til morning. It is you. It is me. Our own selfishness. Our entering a relationship (of any kind) with the mentality that this adventure and all the treasure in it is for me. Even a sharing mentality won't work. You seem like a good mate for this adventure, let's split the treasure fifty-fifty...

Just imagining what the adventure would look like if I signed on thinking, this is all for you--you can have all the treasure and I will be the second mate, here to serve you is incredibly freeing. It frees me from the fear of sinking the ship during sea sickness and bad weather. Because those things are inevitable on a journey. But I'm able to weather the storm when I've taken the focus off me and puts it where it should've been all along--on him. And I can work harder than any other shiphand to achieve selflessness, but I only have the grace to do that when my compass is Him, the greatest Captain.

All that mused, weigh anchor and go serve your mate!