There is no decision that you can't come back from.

Today someone posted this on FB:

"Be decisive.
Right or wrong, make a decision.
The road of life is paved with flat squirrels who couldn't make a decision."

I chuckled.  And that made me think of this event in my life:

In 2011 I moved to the US from Ecuador, leaving a job and a community that I loved to come back to NO job.  Eventually I found a job six hours from home that turned out to be an employment nightmare that went on for two long years.

But at the time of the event, I didn't know about the forthcoming 2 years.

[evidence of God's grace]

I had just moved to the new town, and was living in a cheap motel for a week while I looked for an apartment (and while I did my first week of work at the new job).  During day one of that job, I was informed that, though I had been led to believe I would be working full time, they could only offer me 20 paid hours a week.  But don't worry- that can change every month!  Hopefully next month it'll be full time!  [it wasn't full time for three months, but again- it's probably best I didn't know that then.]

Somewhere in the midst of that horrific, honestly hardest week of my life...

In a totally new place where I knew no one
Living in a motel
Trying to negotiate the system of a new teaching job
Far from my family
Doubting my decision to leave Quito
Doubting my decision to take this job
Doubting everything

...my exceedingly wise friend Brooke spoke this simple truth into my chaos:

There is no decision that you can't come back from.

I think she said more words after that, but they are all lost to me.  My soul was thirstily lapping up that hope she had offered, before it evaporated and was lost.

There is no decision that you can't come back from.

The GRACE in those words overwhelms my heart, even today.

See, I'm not naturally a gracious person.  I have this theory that we all naturally lean either toward grace or justice, most of us to a fault without the leading of the Holy Spirit.  My natural bent is most definitely justice.  If you've ever met me, you already knew that.

Justice isn't all bad, of course, but being a person who naturally errs on the side of justice causes me to sit in awe, absolute, slack-jawed awe, at the appearance of hard-core grace.

And that is what I did that night.

I sat in awe.  And I wept.

Well, I was probably already weeping.  (did I mention "hardest week of my life"?  that wasn't an exaggeration)  But now I was weeping not out of despair, but out of hope.  Well, maybe half-and-half, in that moment.  But definitely moving toward hope.

These well-known but forgotten in the moment truths became visible again to my soul:

It will be ok.
Even in the dark, God is still in control.
Even when I make a wrong choice, He will redeem it if I let Him.  
Stop trying to white-knuckle it right.

There is no decision that you can't come back from.


And now I'm saying that to YOU.

There is no decision that YOU can't come back from, either.

If you want to join me in the corner, and weep with me over the grace, I have an extra tissue for you.  Come on over.  We will sit in awe of the Grace and weep together.

Always Grace

Last night this caught my eye:

"When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask him, 'Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?'" (Matthew 11:2)

This is JOHN. As in, The Baptist. The kid who grew up hearing his parents talk about his miraculous birth, his in utero first meeting with his cousin, Jesus, and his heavenly assignment to prepare the way for that cousin, the long-awaited Messiah   Heard those stories ad nauseam. He knew Who Jesus was.

He knew who he was, too. This Calling was his whole life. He had never tasted wine (the standard drink of the day) because of it. He lived in the desert. He battled the hypocritical religious elite and baptized and discipled the spiritually open. This preparing the way for the Christ was John's purpose. It was his whole existence. There was never a time in his life when he wasn't aware of that.

How could John possibly doubt Jesus? According to the prophecy given to his father before his birth, he was filled with the Holy Spirit from birth (a rare thing before the HS was sent at Pentecost). John himself baptized Jesus and would have been one of those who witnessed the Father's testimony that Jesus was his Son. You know, just in case the family tales and the testimony of the Holy Spirit weren't quite convincing enough. Earlier in his ministry, John testified to his followers that Jesus was the Christ. John knew.

And yet.

"Are you Him?"

In general, the Jews were looking for an earthly king, not a heavenly one. Maybe John, sitting is his prison cell, was thinking that now's a great time for Jesus to flex his political muscle, and get his cousin out of prison before he's executed? That seems like a fair expectation. After all, we consider family loyalty a virtue.

It's funny what fear does to us. And the combination of fear, time to think, and unmet expectation? That's deadly stuff, right there. That's the perfect formula for doubt. For bitterness. Despair. It can cause us to question things we've known since we were kids. Things we've believed without hesitation our whole lives.

Suddenly, in the darkness of fear, things look different. Unfamiliar. Unsafe.

Jesus himself said of John (AFTER he got the message of John's questions), "Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist..." (Matthew 11:11)  

Do I think John lost his faith and recanted? Nope. I think in a moment of despair, he asked an honest question of his Savior.

"Lord? That's you, right? I know it is, but the light is playing tricks on my eyes. I just need some reassurance. I need to hear you say it."

And reassurance is exactly what Jesus sent back. Here's the message:

"Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me." (Matthew 11:4-6)

No shaming. No reprimand. No incredulity. Just grace.

And that, kids, is why this whole thing is encouraging to me. There is always grace. Even if you should know better. Even if your family tree is rife with those whose faith puts yours to shame.  

For the strongest and the weakest among us (because when you come right down to it, we are one and the same) there is always grace.

Grace to reassure us of things we used to know. But forgot in the dark.

Always grace.

Communication is Hard

Yesterday afternoon my supervisor (Tami) asked if I could pick up our mutual boss (Dave) at the Kroger close to my house and take him to the office at 8:15. His car is in the shop. Tami went on to explain something unnecessary about how she would do it but it's so much closer for me [true story- like 40 minutes closer for me] and that she has to drop her kids off at school [also true. she has kids and I assume they go to school].

I must have zoned out at the point when she said "tomorrow" or "in the morning" or "AM". I didn't need to be convinced that I was the obvious choice for this assignment. I was instead thinking of the time Dave volunteered to drive an extra 3 hours to a meeting so that I could go watch my dad participate in the tractor pull at the county fair.  

I said of course I could pick him up.

That evening I was SO tired that I actually set an alarm for 8, when I needed to leave, so I didn't sleep through it. The alarm woke me as planned and I stumbled sleepily out the door to pick up Dave and take him to the office. I maybe should have given myself a little buffer wake-up time, because I was already part-way to work before I realized I'd missed the first step (picking up Dave) and had to turn around. Oops.

As a result of my crystal-clear post-nap thinking, I got to Kroger about 8 minutes late. No Dave. Weird.

At this point, for the FIRST TIME it crossed my mind that maybe Tami meant 8:15 am. Tomorrow. That would make a lot more sense.  

I call Dave. Voicemail.  

I call Tami. Voicemail.  

I text Dave. No answer.  

I text Tami. No answer.

I sit in my cozy car listening to my current book on cd until 8:45, assuming by this point Dave would have at least tried to call me if he can't find me, and then I drive home. Just as I'm pulling into my driveway, and very sorrowful and apologetic Dave calls. He needs a ride in the morning. He's UBER sorry.

About ten minutes later, Tami calls. "I guess I should have said 'tomorrow' or 'Thursday', but I figured when I said I needed to drop my kids off at school..."

Oh well. It's nice to work for people that you like enough that you don't really care when stuff like this happens.

And besides, all's well that ends with me going to bed.

Communication is hard.

Everyday Drama -or- Leslie Tries Sugar Scrub

This year a lovely woman at church I've been getting to know better gave me a Christmas gift- a jar of sugar scrub.

I was excited.  I like presents.  I like sugar.  I...don't like scrubbing things, but two out of three ain't bad.

Having had zero experience with sugar scrubs (or any scrubs, for that matter), there were some questions in my mind.  So I asked.

Um, what IS it, exactly?  "It's made out of coconut oil, sugar, and lemon oil."

Huh.

I'm not gonna lie.  I wanted to taste it.  It's like halfway to a cake.

I asked some more strategic questions.

Do I use a washcloth or a poof?  "No, just scoop some up and use your hands."

Ok.  That sounds simple.

Do you use it on your face, or is it too harsh? "Probably avoid your face."

Check.

I had more questions, but by this point I felt silly.  What 35 year old American woman doesn't know how to use sugar scrub?  Obviously the others in the party did.  So I happily carried my little jar of scrub home.

I'll ask Papa Google, I thought.

Fast forward a couple days, and I'm standing in the shower, holding my jar of sugar scrub.  I have overnight guests coming the next day, so I bribed myself to clean the shower by promising myself I could use my new sugar scrub after.

So there I am, the shower is clean, and I'm switching gears from cleaning the shower to taking a shower, and I realize I haven't asked Papa Google my questions yet.

Stink.  It's too late to get out of the shower and search.  But the next thing I wanted to know was if the scrub should be used before, after, or instead of soap.  This seemed like an important point.  And it seemed important to know BEFORE I use it the first time.  Not so much AFTER.

But what the heck.  I decide to live on the wild side and guess.

After.  We're going with after soap.

Normal showering activities accomplished, I open the jar.

*Author's note: open the jar before your hands are wet and slippery.

It smells good.  On this first day of a New Year's sugar fast I remind myself not to taste the scrub.  It will not taste good, Foster!!  No.

I scoop out some goo and have at it.

*Author's note: I can see why sugar is an exfoliant.  Don't start out with too much vigor.  Go easy.

As I finish up one should and arm, I realize that those surfaces are now oily.  Right.  I just rubbed oil on them.  Curious that I didn't see that coming.  I rethink my After decision.

I continue scrubbing and consider the fact that I've heard of people using coconut oil like a lotion.  Well, I should be lotiony now, fer sher.

Meanwhile, the water has started to lose a bit of its heat.  That's normal for such a long shower, but it hurries me along a bit.

As I notice the intriguing way that the water is now beading up on my shoulders, my feet start sliding down the surface of the tub.

Yes, coating a surface with oil will make the water bead up on said surface.  It will also make your tub slippery.

I finish scrubbing.  As I stand in the cooling water, I ponder what to do.  I'm greasy.  This isn't my standard post-shower state.  Should I cave and wash with soap again?  Will it rub off on my towel?  Is this what's SUPPOSED to happen?  Will I eventually swear by moisturizing with coconut oil, or will it clog my pores and cause me to break out in a horrific rash?

Again, what's a new year for, if not to live dangerously?  Besides, the water's getting cold.  I turn off the water and reach for my towel.

And now, a few hours later I have determined that I made the right call.  My arms and legs don't feel greasy, but they do feel soft.  I just checked- they DON'T taste like lemon cake (alas).  But in all, the sugar scrub was a win.  Thanks Amber!