Brenda’s Blog – November 17, 2015

“Do you ever get lonely?”

My sweet daughter-in-law’s question was lovingly and tentatively asked. She didn’t want to intrude, but she wanted to check on me.
“Of course, I do.”

How would you answer that question? Probably in the affirmative, for loneliness is part of the human condition. The real question is: “What do you do when you get lonely?” or “When do you feel loneliest?”

A sociological study titled “The Lonely Crowd” spoke to us of human disconnection. I spent two days this week on a college campus celebrating the opening of the Bob Briner School of Business. The speakers excellently and pointedly addressed the students on leadership, character, and even job seeking skills. No matter what the topic, each one addressed the issue of virtual friendships and the need for true human interaction.

We can’t be fully human if the majority of our relationships begin and end on an electronic device. Eye contact becomes “I” contact. Warm greetings and handshakes are traded for emoticons and abbreviations.

USA Today featured an article on prisoners who are held in solitary confinement and the outcome of their lives after release. Of nine studied, all nine returned to prison. Extended solitary existence doesn’t mesh well with communal communication.

But we can be in a shoulder-to-shoulder room, flanked by laughing people and broad smiles, yet still be lonely. We need connection to quell those pockets of longing. How do we do that?

When you are in a strange environment, do you think about your own comfort, or seek to alleviate the anxiety of someone else you notice? What words do you prepare to initiate conversations? What heart and mind sets are established before you enter into these situations?

Yes, precious daughter-in-law I get lonely… I get scared… I get eager to run away, but when I accept my role as a transmitter of God’s grace to others, it gets easier. When I “turn my eyes on Jesus,” the pangs subside… some. There will always be times when the desire to feel fully accepted, included, and integrated will rise up. But when I think of those who need a word of encouragement, a hug, or just a smile, I understand how my loneliness can be converted into loveliness.

Brenda’s Blog – November 3, 2015

“Why are all those trees sitting out there in the field?”

Driving through rural America, I could see miles and miles of farmland. “America the Beautiful” always comes to mind. As I topped a rise, I noticed a strange grove of tall evergreens, flanked by smaller trees, and then a hedge of shrubs. It looked out of place among the crops.

I approached the area and saw the house nestled among this great wall of greenery. This was not a random planting, but a purposeful grouping of trees creating a windbreak and protection for the house. The wind which blew across the fields had nothing to stop its impact unless a natural wall existed.

The residents of this house wisely constructed a shield against the weather.

I started thinking about the need for emotional, professional, and relational windbreaks. We are vulnerable to the ravages of negativity, misunderstanding, and hostility. We are open to those who accost us. What can we do? How can we help others? By building windbreaks!

How do we do that? By being firmly grounded in the knowledge of ourselves and the knowledge of God. Scripture warns us against being people who are blown by every wind – this way and that. We need to have our values, our character, and our strengths well in hand. When the blustery environment challenges us, we should be like Martin Luther: “Here I stand, I can do no other.” This doesn’t mean we are stubborn, intransigent, and “ornery.” It means we know who we are and are willing to hold because we know how we best make our unique contribution.

And then, we must know who God is. What is His character? What is His message to us? How can we appropriate His grace and mercy? When the storms come, we can be assured of His presence and His care. It doesn’t mean the weather doesn’t get bad – it just means we have a Divine Windbreak.

Brenda’s Blog – October 20, 2015

“The mountains spoil the view.”

Years ago I traveled frequently to the Pacific Northwest. Flying into Portland thrilled me. Leaving the mountains behind made me sigh. On one trip back to Iowa, I sat next to a farmer from Nebraska. As a plane chit-chatter, I said, “Don’t you love seeing the mountains?” “No, I don’t. The mountains block the view.” I was stunned. THE MOUNTAINS WERE THE VIEW! He went on to explain he could step out on his Nebraska porch and see for miles and miles – that was the view he loved.

I realized much of life is based on our own perspective, and experiences. I treasured the majesty of mountains; he resented the way they limited his sight line. For me to establish my preference as the rule would damage any further conversation.

In the last few weeks a dear friend and I traveled through New Mexico, Colorado, and Texas. I eagerly anticipated the ride on the Durango to Silverton narrow gauge steam railroad. The ride through the mountain passes and along the Animas River excited me. My sweet friend politely expressed appreciation for the beauty of the turning leaves, and the mighty rock walls… but with polite reservation.

There were times when the granite cliffs were so close we could literally reach out of the open observation car and touch the rocks. I must admit my breaths were shortened by the altitude and the closed in pathway.

We descended from the heights of Silverton into the open meadows around Durango. “I love this,” was her response as she took a deep breath. To me, it was just high altitude flat lands. To her, it was a place she could finally see the view.

In the next few days we traveled through stark New Mexico into Santa Fe, and finally into Amarillo, TX. “Now, this is what I like!” REALLY? Except for the Cadillac Ranch on I-40 outside town, and the enormous roadside cross, I missed the beauty she saw.

Personality preferences are real. Different perceptions exist. When we only see life through our own framework, we miss so much. My friend taught me to look at acres of Texas Panhandle land with new eyes… and appreciate it greatly. I still love the grandeur of the peaks, but the wideness of the prairie now brings a smile.