Tag: faith

But That’s Not Fair!

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

Last week, the small town of Fairdale, Illinois was ravaged by an EF-4 tornado. What was once a community is now reduced to what looks like Pick-Up-Stix. One reporter said that had the tornado struck a quarter mile either north or south, the town would have been spared.

 

Fairdale Google Map

 

All that open space, but the tornado roared right through the town.

So not fair.

Most people are born healthy while some are born sick. Some face illness later in life. Others aren’t sick a day in their lives.

Qatar is the richest country in the world, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo is the poorest (based on per-capita GDP). I bet whether you are born in one or the other plays a huge part in your quality of life and your future. And where you’re born really isn’t up to you now, is it?

In the much more mundane and insignificant realm, there is the story of when my over-30 softball team made it to the championship—played on a freezing November night. The opposing team brought a 200’ extension cord to power a space heater and warm up their bats. They scored three runs in the top half of the first inning before the umpire agreed that their being able to heat their bats was unfair. Those three runs were the only ones scored in the game. Championship lost. (Yes, I’m still bitter about it.)

 

trophies

 

Things happen. Bad things happen to “good” people, and good things happen to “bad” people…and vice versa. It’s a pretty simple reality—all you have to do is look around you.

Life isn’t fair.

I get frustrated when people preach that being Christian means one’s life will be easier. Pardon me, but that’s a load of crap. There is no magic get-out-of-jail-free card. Faith will help you be better able to deal with life’s injustices and challenges, but if anyone tells you that believing will make your life all sunshine and lollipops, kick them in the shin (and then turn the other cheek. Wait, I may have that a bit confused.)

Bit I digress.

Fairness is not the default of life on earth. Just ask the gazelle being chased by the cheetah.

But don’t you long for it?

 

treasure

 

My son all too often begins a sentence with, “But I was just…” and then what follows is any one of a million explanations for why he was doing something he shouldn’t. It’s as though, given an excuse, everything can be made “right” or explained away. It’s a natural instinct, but it drives me crazy. Often when I tell my son that life isn’t fair, I remind him that he needs to understand that he can’t expect it to be fair, either.

I strongly believe we have to foster that in our children—not to expect fairness, but to fight for it. While we are not entitled to it, we shouldn’t settle for life’s injustices, either. The sooner kids understand this, the sooner they can choose to be active about it and not passively wait for justice.

Thankfully, that seems to be a part of the human spirit—fighting for fairness that will innately never happen on its own, and realizing that it is an uphill battle with no apex—no final destination. Not on this earth. We will never be victors when it comes to the fairness war, but battle by battle, we can make a difference. And I don’t think we’ll ever be short of battles.

Fairdale had no chance in battling against the tornado, but they are already battling the aftermath. As we so often see, after devastation comes restoration. We humans have a tendency to rise to our best when faced with the worst, and within hours of the storm, people were helping one another in critical ways.

It never ceases to amaze me how people even begin to clean up after such loss, but piece by piece, they do.

I’ll never understand how life works, but I’m so glad I have constant reminders to keep battling on. And on.

Life isn’t fair. It’s…life.

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.
~Eleanor Roosevelt

 

All photos are my own or have been used with attribution.
Please note that there may be advertisements below via WordPress.com.
The presence of these ads does not constitute endorsement of the information, services, or products found in them.

But the Greatest of These Is Love

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 5 Comments

Long ago I dated a man who had two kids who—to put it diplomatically—were not exactly well-behaved. On the occasions that we all went to a restaurant, I received looks from other diners that communicated “control your screaming banshee children.” Of course, our relationship was young enough that it wasn’t my place to discipline his kids, so I endured the judgmental stares uncomfortably. Continue reading “But the Greatest of These Is Love” →

10 Great Reasons to Forgive

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

I took my mom to the bank drive thru the other day. I think these mainly still exist for people in my mom’s generation—though having the little canister get sucked up into the tube is pretty cool. The transaction turned out to be very frustrating because the tellers didn’t see something they should have and ended up treating us rather poorly.

My mom was…ticked. She wanted me to get the teller’s name and complain. I told her to take a breath and let it go. We have bigger fish to fry. But it took her a while to get past it. (Actually, I think given the chance, she’d still give the teller an earful.)

I know I can be guilty of the very same kind of misspent energy, and I bet you can admit to the same. While forgiving little slights isn’t too hard, there are times where it’s just easier to steam at the injustice.

And then there are the bigger fish that do indeed need frying. The kinds of hurts that make it even harder to let go and offer forgiveness.

But no matter how big or small the “fish,” we should always strive to forgive, and here are my ten great reasons why…

  1. God commands us to. As a Christian, I have the greatest model of this in Jesus…who offers forgiveness even to the very people who crucified him. What a powerful example of practicing what you preach. Other major religions—Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Judaism—also teach forgiveness. With nearly six billion people in the world identifying with a religion, we should be awash in forgiveness.
  1. We need it every day. At least I do—and I’m pretty sure you do, too. So if we need it but choose not to offer it to others who need it, then we need to strap on our hypocrisy hats.

 

bridge

 

  1. We benefit from offering forgiveness to others. Receiving forgiveness is obviously awesome, but I have had some significant experiences in my life of offering forgiveness, and the healing that comes from it—both spiritually and emotionally—is powerful and freeing.
  1. We lose negative and gain positive energy. Not only is the impact of forgiveness spiritual and emotional, but it can be physical, too. There are times when I have forgiven someone and felt an immediate physical change—as though weighty scales have fallen off of me and tangibly lightened my being. These times have served to remind me how damaging it is to hold onto negative energy. Positive rocks. Negative sucks.

 

ice zags

 

  1. It helps others. We know how amazing it feels to be forgiven. The grace and mercy that comes our way is transformative. Why wouldn’t we want to facilitate that amazingness for others? Share the wealth.
  1. In withholding forgiveness, we can suffer more than the one whom we believe needs it. Sometimes the hurt you’re feeling may not even be on the other person’s radar. One-sided pain is just that: one-sided. Granted, these kinds of offenses are usually on the smaller side—feeling angry at a driver who cut you off or maybe feeling snubbed by someone—but they still result in negative energy that attacks your spirit.

     
    winter shore

  1. Because we can. In many walks of life the cliché “just because you can doesn’t mean you should” rings true. Not here. We have a choice to forgive. What a powerful privilege. See numbers 1-6 and 8-10 for why we should make that choice. 
  1. It’s hard. We need to do the tough stuff. Facing something very painful and working through it to get to forgiveness takes effort and strength and courage. All good things to call upon. Grace and mercy aren’t too shabby, either.
     
    (If you’re like me, the absolute hardest person for me to forgive is…me. For some reason, offering forgiveness to others is much easier than letting myself off the hook. I think this is where a lot of us really need to up our game.) 

     
    summer shore

  1. Modeling forgiveness lets others see how it works. Seeing something in action can really be persuasive. I’m not one of those parents who tries to keep all conflict hidden from my kid. To me, that would be a false representation of life. He knows that sometimes people argue—and showing him how people forgive completes the lesson.
     
    ice breaker
  1. It embraces our mutual brokenness in a broken world. We all sin, fall short, disappoint, hurt, mess up…all of us…continually. There’s no getting around it. It is our truth. Knowing that we can both offer forgiveness and be forgiven allows us to persevere and thrive in an imperfect world. Hope can continually bloom under the light of forgiveness.

Of course, this by far isn’t a definitive discourse on the merits of forgiveness, but I hope that you have found a little something here to remind you how key forgiveness is to a healthy life. And if you didn’t and instead feel like this has been a waste of your time, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me!

 

All photos are my own.
Please note that there may be advertisements below via WordPress.com.
The presence of these ads does not constitute endorsement of the information, services, or products found in them.

She Had the Last Word

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

This is not a downer post—trust me—but…have you ever thought about your own funeral? How you might want it to go…what songs to have played…maybe favorite Bible verses or quotes…or perhaps final words you might want to impart?

Recently my husband shared with me that an old friend of his just went through the death of her mother. What her mom planned was, well…stick with me.

 

obit

 

Having personally been through the planning process for a loved one where nothing was planned—and therefore that much harder—I must admit I do have a folder labeled “death planning” in my file cabinet. It’s nothing too crazy, just a place where I might put a song or idea in order to help those who have to plan my funeral know what I would like. While it may sound morbid, it’s really a loving act for those left behind.

Now, the mom of my husband’s friend took it one step further. Well…maybe several steps. I will refer to her as Pearl because I think she is quite a gem. She decided that she wanted to put a little spin on her life and spice it up a bit, and she was very specific in her design of it. Pearl crafted her obituary to include an imaginary Latin lover as her “lifelong companion.”

It was like the George Glass to beat all George Glasses. (You absolutely should get this reference, but in case you don’t…Brady Bunch…Jan’s made-up boyfriend. Sigh. I shouldn’t have to tell you these things, people.)

While some in her family were mortified (pun intended), Pearl’s daughter (my husband’s friend) was her accomplice and thought the idea was hysterical. During the wake, word had it that the gentleman was there, but…he was always in another room. Even the priest was in on it and mentioned the man in his eulogy.

As you might imagine, this put quite a twist on the mood of the event. According to what my husband’s friend told him, it was the talk of the wake, and there was much laughter for those who knew the truth.

 

In Remembrance

 

I love that Pearl knew how she wanted her time of remembrance spent. You might feel that it is inappropriate, but…I think it’s a riot. In a way, she shares the same sentiment as Christina Rossetti’s poem “Remember” (which may or may not be in my death planning folder):

Remember me when I am gone away,
… Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
… Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

Clearly, Pearl knew how she wanted to be remembered, and it wasn’t with tears and sadness, but with mystery and amusement.

She had the last word.

And what a word it was. What she left behind, after a life well-lived, was an unforgettable story for her loved ones to retell and laugh at all over again. What a gift…and what a telling example of the spirit in which she lived her life.

I don’t know what my “last word” will be or if I’ll even have one, but if I do, I hope that it reminds loved ones and friends not to mourn but to rejoice that I have gone Home…and even better if I can do so and leave them smiling or laughing in remembrance.

I didn’t know Pearl, but I wish I had. She really knew how to throw a party.

 

All photos are my own.
Please note that there may be advertisements below via WordPress.com.
The presence of these ads does not constitute endorsement of the information, services, or products found in them.

The Brushstrokes of Life

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 5 Comments

Divot in shin—knife drop, Easter Saturday, 2010. Forehead pockmark—head-butt on bathtub faucet, 1969. Knee “freckles”—torn meniscus, soccer game, 2012… I could go on and ON. My body is full of scars and imperfections. I’m guessing you might have a few, too.

We typically look at these kinds of marks on our bodies as flaws or eyesores. After all, they rarely, if ever, add beauty to a person’s body, right? Stretch marks anyone? But what if we considered them not as imperfections, but brushstrokes that come together to help create the work of art that we are?

 

brushes

 

In a way, each mark that we acquire through our lives is a mark of our journey. They may not necessarily “represent” anything in particular, but they are a part of us. Maybe if we cast a kinder eye on those scars we would be better able to see them as an essential part of ourselves.

You don’t get through life unscathed.

And what about the scars below the skin—the ones that we carry on our hearts? Maybe your heart is marked with the death of a loved one. Maybe there are rejections you’ve suffered in love, work, or friendship. Maybe you’ve gone through a trauma that you have yet to give voice to. Maybe you have been treated unfairly or abused. Maybe you’re battling an illness. Maybe you’ve failed in some capacity. Maybe many or all of these things have touched you in some way.

These kinds of hurts definitely leave their mark. Some much deeper than others, but a mark nonetheless. And while it is critical to work toward healing in every way we can, we will never be able to bring the heart back to what it was before the scar.

We are forever changed.

 

art 1

 

But what if we also look at these scars as brushstrokes on the canvas of our lives? Each mark helping to form who we are? Though this perspective doesn’t take away the pain of the “heart scar,” it may help us to see that there is meaning within it.

I know some of my heart scars have equipped me to be a better person. I’m using the term “better” here in a relative sense—as in what I believe is important. Compassion and empathy are important to me, and my heart scars have led me to be more compassionate and empathetic.

Of course, hindsight helps me understand this. For example, my dad died of cancer when I was 21. Obviously, that is a major heart scar with many facets to it—some obvious and some not so obvious. But I had no idea when I was going through it how many times I would be able to be there for a friend who was going through the loss of a loved one or battling cancer. Simply being there with some firsthand understanding ended up being of some comfort to several people in my life since then, and I am grateful for that. It means that the loss of my dad and the pain that is left behind from it in some way served a purpose. The heart scar has meaning.

 

art 2

 

And since we know we won’t get through life unscathed—either physically or emotionally—it helps to recognize that those brushstrokes are helping us become works of art even through the pain.

At least it helps to know for me.

In my mind’s eye, when I stand back and see how my “brushstrokes” are coming together, I see the work in progress that I am. I see how many things, when observed in isolation—can only be seen as ugly or painful—but with some perspective, are essential to the creation of the work as a whole.

Though some days my life canvas looks like something painted by Pollock or Picasso when I’d prefer Degas or Hopper, it is a work of art nonetheless. And that work of art is me.

I wonder what challenging brushstrokes you’ve been through…and what does your painting look like?

 

All photos are my own.
Please note that there may be advertisements below via WordPress.com.
The presence of these ads does not constitute endorsement of the information, services, or products found in them.

A Vehicle for Change?

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 10 Comments

On January 1, I did not leave the house and stayed out of trouble. On January 2, I was pulled over by a police officer. On January 3, my van had a brief relationship with a cement wall.

This is my story.

For those of you who follow me (thank you!), you know that I have been looking forward to the proverbial leaf turning of 2015. The years 2013-14 have kind of been jagwads to me and my family, and…I’m looking for a new start.

 

cold prism
Today’s sun-kissed greeting.

 

But…does this sound like a new beginning to you? Or does it seem like more of the same crappola?

Well, of course, it’s not as simple as that, now is it? Let me tell you my story…

Just a week or so ago my son and I were driving and talking. He noticed someone on their phone and said, “I thought that was against the law?” to which I replied, “Yeah, well it looks like one of those laws that aren’t enforced because I see people on their phones all the time.”

Flash forward to January 2. I am running very late to get my son from a friend’s house. I decide that I should call the mom who is hosting and ask her to please have my guy ready to walk out the door because I’m only two minutes away. Though I have a Bluetooth, I rarely have it in because I’m not the greatest fan of talking on the phone, so when I make the call, I am not hands free. Cue sirens. So much for the law not being enforced…

I drop the phone as I tell the mom with a colorful word or two “I think I’m getting pulled over for being on the phone!” I can hear her saying, “What?…What??” but I realize that now is probably not the time to finish the call, so I hang up.

The officer approaches, tells me I was driving while using a handheld device, and asks for license and insurance. I tell him I am sorry, that I’m running late, yada, yada, and he simply holds his hand out for the information he asked for. He then disappears into his vehicle.

Now, if you’re like me and let’s say, maybe have a little experience getting pulled over now and then for maybe speeding…you know that the longer the cop sits in his car, the stronger the reality that he is writing you a ticket. I hoped that maybe my sobless sob story might be tugging at him, but…tick…tock…he’s not coming back quickly.

Doing an amazingly effortless job of mentally kicking myself, I decide instead to say a prayer. I pray that if there is any way I could have this end without my having to pay for a ticket, I would super appreciate it. We so do not have money right now to be throwing after stupid.

Another moment of waiting passes, and then the officer walks up to me and asks, “Do you know any cops in this town?” I look at him a little confused and say that I do. He asks me who, and I give him the name of an old friend. “Ha! Just give me a couple minutes.” And then he walks back to his vehicle.

I sit there wondering…what just happened??

Another two minutes later, he walks up and hands me a warning. He explains that while he was calling in my name on the radio, my friend heard it and said, “Wait! Hold up!” and I was then graced with a warning. My officer friend then drives up beside me and smiles. I am profuse in my gratitude, and he is gracious in his response.

 

warning

 

It was only then that I couldn’t hold back my emotion…because it sure felt to me that my prayer was answered in an extremely serendipitous way. What are the odds that this man would be on duty? That he would catch my name being called in? As we who watch Downton Abbey would say, I was gobsmacked.

While driving the next day, I couldn’t help but think that maybe that episode was a little message from God that though things can and will be hard, sometimes a tiny miraculous ray of light shines through. I felt like this was 2015 turning the corner for me.

And then I kissed a cement wall with the rear corner of my van.

It’s a long story that involves backing down a ramp, but I won’t bore you with it because this post is already near 800 words, and I haven’t gotten to my main point yet.

 

holey bumper

 

It was easy to fall right back into feeling the tug of the negative. It pulled hard on me. Lots of self-disgust bubbled up. It’s the same crappy karma of 2014 after all, isn’t it?

Or…is it?

I am really striving to see even this “holey van” incident as a message that things will most definitely continue to be messy…but…I’m okay. We’ll be okay. The van has many battle scars, and this is yet another one. But…it’s okay. The incident happened while I was on my way to something new and exciting that I’ve begun…and that didn’t stop just because I ran into a cement wall.

In fact, I’ve thought about making the hole a day brightener in its own crazy way…

 

holey flowers

 

It is so easy to get sucked into the negative—especially when I too often feel surrounded by it. But I’m not giving up that easy.

As I shared last week, my word for 2015 is journey, and I find it ironic that these two crazy incidents from the first three days of the year involve me traveling.

It appears I’ve already hit a couple of minor speed bumps on my journey!

But I’m still moving forward. And my little prayer answered resonates deeply within me that I am not journeying alone.

 

All photos are my own.
Please note that there may be advertisements below via WordPress.com.
The presence of these ads does not constitute endorsement of the information, services, or products found in them.