Apathy Epidemic

I like the way the title for today's post kinda gets stuck on your tongue before it rolls off...kinda fitting I think.

Went to a monthly pastor's meeting yesterday - and was reminded that certain themes seem to cycle through my life every now and again.

The actual teaching topic was nothing particularly noteworthy - but the real lesson for the day seemed to come out of the lunch conversation - which I thought was a good one, but I know others were not so thrilled to have to learn and converse about a particular topic over the lunch hour. Oh well. At least I was sitting next to someone that shared my thoughts for the afternoon.

Lunch consisted of a guided conversation by a new director of one of the camps in the area - incidentally, not one of my favorite camps. But, to his credit, he was looking for input of all types about ways to improve different parts of the camp.

This particular camp is one of the more rustic ones, in that some of the areas where kids sleep and stay don't have running water right next to them. This forces the kids that come to use outhouses and live a bit more simply - something some will fight tooth and nail against.

The discussion eventually turned to differing opinions on the usefulness and logic of having a more 'rustic' camping experience and the impact it has on a kid's life, and whether it is still something that should be offered.

I am a big proponent of having kids experience things outside of their comfort zones. Some will like it. Some won't. Some might even say they hate it. But, even so, they still had the experience. They still learned something, however indirectly.

The point that was brought up by one of the pastors is that her kids didn't want to have that kind of a camp experience, and didn't like having to use the outhouses and would even walk up to the other part of camp to use the shower houses. My thought is, 'Seriously. It's only for a week. They will survive. And if they didn't like the camp, they can go to a different, more cushy one next time.' Her fear was that it would destroy their view of camp and make them not want to come back. I think there is a deeper issue if having to use an outhouse is enough to totally wreck their experience - in both the kid's openness, and the camp's ability to provide a week that wouldn't be able to balance out that one misgiving.

So, later on in the day, I went home after work and the oldest daughter of the family I live with was in the kitchen, and said she needed to ask my opinion about something. Turns out one of her teachers is after her about getting work turned in (the family was on a cruise last week, a vacation that meant they pulled their kids out of school for a week). Now, the oldest daughter, because of work missed, has an F for one of her mid term grades. She is at risk of being banned from a week or two of extra-curriculars if she doesn't get the work in, which means that she has to be at school early every day for at least this week. Oh, and did I mention she hasn't been feeling well for the last couple days? So, now, she has to be in school even though she's not at the top of her game, or face some consequences. Crazy, hm? Turns out if you skip school to have fun for a week, you actually have to face the music when you come back.

I was recounting this story to my boyfriend in the back seat of his parent's car as we rode up together to see his niece play in a band concert last night. His dad, upon hearing my story, chuckled and said, 'Wow, you're gonna be a good mom some day...no sympathy.' I smiled and didn't have much to say - but I really do believe that I'm not being unfair. Yeah, my kids probably aren't going to like me sometimes. Actually, I would say it's a pretty safe bet. You know what though? That's alright. Because I will be their PARENT. Not their BEST FRIEND.

There is a connection between my earlier story about the camping experience and this story - which is the point of my title. It goes beyond apathy, actually, but I do think that's where it starts. Things are okay the way they are. I don't need to push myself. I don't need to push others. I just want everyone to like me - that's what really matters.

It's in businesses, churches, families, everywhere. It saddens me how many parents I see that are so busy being their kids' friends that they have forgotten that it's alright if their kid is mad at them once in a while. They won't be scarred for life if they get told that they can't do something or don't get to go on a cruise in the middle of the school year.

So yeah, I probably won't be my kids' best friend. I'm alright with that. I'll just have to settle with being their parent instead. I think their dad will be okay with that too. :)

A Drop of Water - and the Beauty of a Moment

Sitting in church on a Sunday morning, listening to the sermon. You expect to hear a sermon when you're at a worship service. You don't always get to see them.

My pastor has had his fair share of stress and difficulty lately - he and his wife are going through a separation. No surprise that such an occurrence would leave someone a bit down and out - and that's about what he's been - just down.

Sunday morning he was preaching on Matthew 6:24-34, with a sermon he'd titled 'Sermon for the Heart.' I wonder if he knew that he'd be speaking not just from his heart, but possibly to his own heart.

The gospel lesson speaks to the idea that we are precious to God - more important than lowly sparrows. It also states that we cannot serve two masters - most particularly, God and money. We are not to worry about the insignificant things of life, because we can't add time to our days by doing so. God takes care of us. That's all that matters.

My pastor certainly has something to worry about in his life right now, and most would say a separation is hardly insignificant. They'd be right - after all, he has three kids - and while a separation would be hard enough, it would be even tougher when you are looking at it from six eyes that are wondering what's going on as well.

As he was preaching on Sunday, the cold he's been fighting showed its power and sent him into a coughing fit. He calmed his cough, apologized for the interruption, and moved on.

A minute later, something beautiful happened. His wife walked up the side aisle, walked right up to the pulpit, and handed him a glass of water. Just that, nothing more.

I have no idea if anyone else thought that simple gesture was as beautiful as I did. I have no idea if anyone else even thought twice about it. But I saw it. I noticed. I'm sure God did too as the real sermon was preached that morning.

What was perhaps even more profound to me was the rest of the other 'sermon' that followed - and how perfectly it explained the moment that had just taken place.

'Is God's love a drop [or a glass] of water that comes into your life at one moment?' 'Jesus came not for those who deserve to be loved (after all, none of us do anyway...), it came not for those who feel they are good enough. Jesus came - he comes when we need him, in the most profound, yet simple way possible.'

Knowing what is going on can either be a painful reality or a window into the simplicity of how God is at work. Trusting in faith, trying not to worry, seeing that tomorrow is a new day.

'Faith is believing God is with you even when none of your senses can perceive his presence.' God, let us cling with every part of our being to the moments when all of our senses are overcome with your glory. That way, when we feel the void that comes with doubt and uncertainty, we have somewhere to look, something to remember, a glorious, wonderful moment when we realize that you are always there - in every drop of water.