How to be an Available Person

Wow, it’s almost noon already. I saw the other person heart my message so I added another log to the fire, put Dutch’s clean laundry on the stairs, and headed to the kitchen to heat up leftover tortilla soup for lunch.

The morning’s conversations still floated through my head. Of course I wondered some if I said some things right, wished I’d maybe added this or that, but for the most part I had a clear sense of time well-spent. Yeah, it was the better part of two hours. But people were counseled, Scripture was shared, prayers were prayed, confusion was cleared, hope was (I think) instilled, and faith was (I hope) fanned just a bit into flame.

I didn’t have a lot to show for it, visibly, but it was a worthwhile investment.

As I shared here, I’ve been praying about what this next season would hold. Though my schedule opened up quite a bit, I was hesitant to automatically add anything else in, sensing the need to just wait. Rest, pray, consider, be.

And today it became so clear: I guess my job in this season is simply to be an Available Person.

I was on a trip this past year that took an interesting turn. I had no official job or role on the trip, and I sensed, even as I prepared to go, that my role was to be an unofficial come-alongside-person.

In short, I wanted to Be Available. I wanted to be available to pray, to listen, to counsel, to help.

And the only real way to be that is NOT to be too much of anything else.

Those who are in full-time official positions of work or leadership have an important role to fill. They are able to be in certain circles and decision-making situations, and that’s awesome. We need them! And sometimes I’m in those roles, as a speaker or what not. But the people in those roles can’t always be an Available Person. They’re busy. They’re official. They’re not there to pray with you or notice if you’re sad. They’re not there to run an errand for you or text you Scripture when you’re struggling.

During this trip, I found nearly every hour of every day filled with relational needs of some capacity or another. I came home tired but also so very grateful and with a sense of satisfaction.

I did my job. I was an Available Person.

These days I am realizing that Available Person is what I’m called to be. For my kids first and foremost (between teens and tikes there are almost constant conversations and teachable moments taking place all day long!). But also for others. And I know I’m not alone. Even today several messages have been from a couple other friends who are Available People, constantly available to so many for counsel, encouragement, prayer, practical help. They are available to care for other children, counsel, pray, provide meals, care for aging parents, listen to their own children, run errands.

My dear friend Anne is my first and foremost Available Person. For 12 years she has just constantly been available to me — to text, to pray, to listen, to bring me meals. Right after Mom died, when I was sick with Covid and couldn’t get out of bed and also trying to care for a baby, she came over and folded all my laundry. Yes, this is friendship, but it’s more than that:

It’s availability. It reminds me of Prov. 27:10, “Better is a neighbor who is near than a brother who is far away.”

Why would a close-by person be better?

They’re available.

The other day I was listening to a man who was wishing he could help others more, and therefore was trying to think of a way to start a ministry to help. That might be totally awesome (and I’ll encourage him if he does!) but I also was saying, Just be an Available Person.

Often the greatest ministry isn’t an official ministry at all.

It is the ministry of being an Available Person who lets the life, love, and truth of God flow through their lives.

One of Heidi’s go-to lovely people is her vocal teacher. Yes, she has an official role in Heidi’s life that we pay her to do, but her influence outside vocal coaching has proven to be even more valuable. Her role in Heidi’s life as an Available Person is what has truly proven life-changing for Heidi.

If we do have an official job, let us always be aware that our unofficial influence may prove of far greater value than whatever the official role is we play in someone’s life.

Go geek with me for a minute and consider that that’s really what the Desert Fathers were. They were godly men and women who left the business of society in order to seek God and … Be Available. People would trek out to the desert in order to seek their wisdom and counsel, in order to be helped.

Please hear me, I’m not trying to say I’m a desert father … but do you see the idea?

Any of us who are truly connected to Jesus can serve as an Available Person.

In fact, you probably already are.

I write this not by way of telling anyone what you should be doing, but more by way of hopefully encouraging you — If you are seeking God, connected to God, abiding in God, and you are not sure exactly what your role is, ask God to simply help you be an Available Person to others.

Be ready with God’s Word on your heart, be prayed up each morning, try to keep plenty of margin in your schedule so that there is the space to be available for others. Check in on people, be pro-active in asking what’s going. Bring prayer into every conversation. Seek, if possible, to truly see and understand what others are feeling.

Do we do this perfectly? Never. I know I say the wrong thing, mis-step often, make messes as I go. But can God do beautiful things with Available People when they simply offer themselves for others?

Absolutely.

When the mess feels disproportionate to the mistake…

How did I go from Cloud 9 to a sobbing mess in less than 15 minutes?

I spent Saturday with a lovely group of Harbor Network ladies at Aldersgate retreat center, learning about Rest & Renewal, how our habits (all habits not just “spiritual” disciplines) connect us to or distance us from God. It was so good to worship, sit under the Word, spend quality time with some of my closest friends, walk in the sunshine, and just have the space to consider my soul. Hence the Cloud 9.

It was a long day however. I’d been up late the night before, left home early, and now it was late. My GPS took me on an unfamiliar route home, via backroads. As I maneuvered through winding roads, I came upon a small town called Aumsville, and my phone indicated I’d be turning soon, but I couldn’t see clearly where that turn would be. Distracted by trying to see where the turn was, I missed the fact that it’d gone quickly from a 55mph to a 35mph and then almost immediately to a 25mph. So as I came into the town, looking for my turn, I was still trying to decelerate when the dreaded red lights began to flash behind me and I realized I was still going 35 in a 25. Shoot.

I pulled, here came the officer, my heart is racing (anybody’s heart NOT race when they’re pulled over?), and I say I know I was going 35 in a 25 I’m so sorry.

“Actually I clocked you at 38.”

Ok well great. :/ I give him my license and pull up my phone app to show my insurance, and wouldn’t you know it all the stress starts. My app won’t open, it says my password is wrong, then when I finally get it it says my ID cards are expired even though we auto-pay our insurance, so that’s impossible, turns out the app just hasn’t uploaded my new cards, and now I’m fumbling and frustrated and my heart’s racing more. He was calm and said he could look up my insurance on his computer, so he took my license and said he’d be right back.

Oh phew. It’s fine. Yes, it’s a ticket, but it’s ok. He returned.

“Um, I can see that you do have insurance, but your license is SUSPENDED.”

What?! And then in a moment I realize what must have happened and I’m panicking and I beg him to let me explain.

Back in January, I had come to a right hand turn and not come to a complete stop and one of those traffic cameras took a picture and sent me a ticket. Ok fine. I filled out the paperwork, sent in a check, and forgot about it. Well somehow during the next couples months it did not clear or I didn’t do the paperwork right or something, and I was in the middle of everything with my dad, and not even thinking about it, so I get a notice in early March that I failed to pay or appear in court. I’m like What?! So I go online, and use the online portal and pay with a credit card so that I can get a receipt, it all goes through. Done. But apparently NOT because I got a notice March 26th, just as my dad is in his final days, that if no action is taken that my license will be suspended in May. What?! So I contact DMV and they say to contact City of Tigard, so I finally get them and they say that yes, everything has been paid, and yes, they can clear it with DMV, no problem, and they send DMV the form and they email me a confirmation of it, and they assure me that everything is taken care of and I’m all clear.

Until Saturday when the Aumsville cop is telling me my license has been suspended all this time!

And I’m sure I’m over-reacting, but I’m SO frustrated because I tried everything, and how on earth am I supposed to get this cleared up, and it’s late and I’m exhausted and I know that driving with a suspended license is like A BIG DEAL and now the officer is telling me I’m going to have to in person to Tigard again, in person to DMV again, and then back in person and appear in court in Aumsville to have this cleared.

And now I’m crying. Because I’m just so frustrated.

Because yes, I didn’t come to a full stop at a right turn. Yes, I was going 35 (ok, 38) in a 25. But this is a MESS.

The extent of this MESS feels disproportionate to my mistake.

I know I’m not faultless but this really isn’t my FAULT.

But I still have to fix it.

It isn’t my fault but I still have to fix it.

And then I see.

The officer is gracious. He sets my court date out into December so I have time to get it all sorted out. He doesn’t give me a speeding ticket because I think he can tell I’m on the verge of a melt down. He hands me the yellow slip and I can’t even look at it I fold it over in frustration and shame and shove it in my purse.

And cry all the way home.

And I can’t even figure out why I’m crying so hard. All of a sudden I miss Mom more than I could ever convey, like I feel like my heart will break in half I miss her so much. And all of a sudden the whole world is too heavy and it all makes me mad but then I realize what is happening.

I know a little bit of how they feel.

They. The ones I’m praying for. The ones who are facing painful situations and feel like, Why do I have to fix messes that aren’t my fault?

Why is this MESS so disproportionate to the mistake?

Ok Lord, I see.

Sometimes, when life feels sweet and easy, it is hard to put ourselves in others shoes. Sometimes our prayers aren’t super powerful because our hearts haven’t been affected with an understanding of how others feel.

That’s not to say that we need to walk through every situation in order to pray for it. But it is to say that if we want to be people who intercede effectively, if we want to pray with power for those we love, God might in His mercy allow us to experience situations where we feel what they feel, even on a tiny level, so that we can pray with compassion.

Jesus didn’t face every situation we faced, but he was tempted in every way that we are, which makes Him perfectly able to sympathize and intercede for us.

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who was tempted in every way that we are, yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.(Hebrews 4:15-16)

And so this situation was humbling, but I needed it. I don’t like confessing my traffic violations, admitting I cried all the way home, and looking like an idiot in front of a police officer.

But I am truly grateful that God gave me perspective that helped me feel what some of the people I love are feeling, even if on a tiny scale. The frustration, the powerlessness, the exhaustion.

And though it IS frustrating, it is true that we often will need to fix things that aren’t our fault. We clean up messes we didn’t make.

That’s the gospel. Jesus fixing the mess of the universe, by His blood.

So first this morning I started making phone calls. Thankfully, just a few phone calls and emails got everything clear. My license is re-instated (yay!) and I don’t have to appear in court in person.

What looked like it would take a long time was quickly and easily resolved.

Also true on a larger scale: What looks impossible can be quickly resolved by God.

God fixes stuff. That’s what He does.

Praying.

You can be free…

God, what do you want me to know about this situation?

I was curled up under a blanket on the couch, praying for a friend who is struggling with a pattern of behavior. I felt frustrated, honestly. I’ve been praying for her for quite some time, Why is this still a thing for her? In my logical brain it seems so simple. Just stop. Right? I prayed the same things as usual, the same Scriptures, then stopped and asked the question above. God, what do you want me to know about this situation?

And then I remembered.

I remembered a time when I wasn’t free.

It feels like watching another life, it’s so remote. When I 18-20 I struggled with what we’d call an eating disorder. Both ways, falling into both ditches. First under-eating, then over-eating. And while yes, there was about a 30-pound swing from lightest to heaviest, it wasn’t the weight that was the issue. In fact, what’s hard about so many issues of the heart is we over-focus on the outer stuff, when the healing is needed so deeply within in the unseen realm.

But I remember that feeling: Why can’t I just be free? What is wrong with me? Why do I KEEP doing this thing? It was beyond frustrating. It felt beyond hopeless.

Day after day, I never felt free.

In my case, it was a slow process of renewing my mind with Scripture and slowly, bit by bit, making inward and outward choices that honored God. Getting married to Jeff was life-changing, on every level, because his human expression of unconditional love transformed my heart. But I remember even after that disordered season was over, still recognizing that something was off in my mind, and that I came by it honestly — all the females in my family line struggled with weight, food, dieting, etc. In one side of my family line, food was the go-to. It fixed things, it brought comfort, it was the answer. But in the same breath there was the desire to lose weight. Not blaming anyone, but something about that felt off.

And it was in 2012 when Jeff and I began tackling what we identified as family tendencies we wanted to change. I could see what the unhelpful go-to was for my lineage: reaching for food as a stress-release. It didn’t matter if it was a cookie or a carrot (there are no holy foods), it was that after a stressful day I would come home and reach for that, the way some people grab a beer or pour a glass of wine. It’s like Ahhhh…finally.

And to be clear, I’m not talking about hunger. It’s one thing to come home hungry and grab food because you are hungry. That’s healthy! It’s another thing to come home not hungry and grab food because it’s you’re way to cope. And the tricky part for me was it was hard to share this with anyone because I wasn’t overweight. It wasn’t like Oh I have this problem because I need to lose weight. That wasn’t it! It was, There’s something in my brain that’s reaching for this thing as my solution, instead of reaching to Christ.

At this point, Heidi was only 3, and I remember thinking, “There is no way I want my one and only daughter to inherit this. This stops with me. I’ll do whatever is takes to not hand her this thing.”

And in God’s gracious kindness, as I went to him and asked for insight, for truth, for clarity on what to do, He did it.

It’s kind of a long story how that went, and the details don’t so much matter because the prescription God gives for each situation is different, but my point is, now 12 years later, I can barely even remember what it was like to think like that.

It feels like my brain has been literally re-wired. Like I wish I could convey how completely different my brain is. God changed me.

And it happened through a renewal of my mind, slowly. It wasn’t overnight. And now, if I could tell my 18-year-old self, “Hey Kari, when you’re 44 this thing will be so gone you won’t even remember it, until God brings it to your mind” I’m not sure whether that’d be encouraging or not. šŸ™‚ But I hope it would be.

What I’d like to tell my 18-year-old self is that these battles with our flesh, these raging storms in our minds that we face in our efforts to truly follow Jesus and live in the light, often they just take time to win.

Don’t give up because you don’t feel like you’re making progress. Where you are today isn’t where you’ll be 10 years from now. And if you make the right choice today, you are moving toward a glorious future of freedom.

This isn’t just true of phsyical temptations like food or sex, this is true of mindsets: Bitterness, resentment, negativity, gossip, anxiety, fear.

All of it starts in the mind.

And so as I turned my prayers back to my friend, I was reminded that God is not panicked by our struggles with sin. He’s not wringing His hands. He’s with us for the long haul. He’s promised to walk alongside us forever.

And even while we’re battling sin, God still graciously uses us. We’re always a work in progress, and simultaneously God works in us and through us for His glory.

So if you’re one of those still not feeling the freedom, take courage. It might be a while longer until the victory is secured, but you can be free.

Stepping into the Second Half

I hadn’t typed in the URL for my own website since before Dad died. It’s so funny the things you avoid without even knowing it, because somewhere inside you know it’ll just make you miss them so much. Sure enough. Pulled up the site, and there is the Livesteam link for his memorial service. On the backside, comments waiting for approval: “…one of the best men Iā€™ve ever met…”, “…how joyful it will be when we get reunited in heaven…”.

The screen blurs.

That lump. I hold my breath. Maybe just a tear-up and not a real cry? Nope, it’s a full cry. Dang it.

I just miss them so much.

And yet, in the bizarre juxtaposition that life often is, this is the sweetest season of life I’ve ever experienced. Hands down. Stepping into the Second Half.

When Dad died, two years after Mom, I remember distinctly thinking, “This will be a dividing line of my life.” Of course none of us know how long we have, but I sensed that there I’d have roughly halves.

Half of life with parents. Half without.

Half of life as a daughter. Half not a daughter.

Not a daughter.

It’s odd when part of your identity goes away. I can’t even imagine how life-shattering divorce must be (on so many levels, of course). I attended another memorial recently and the daughter of the deceased said it so perfectly: “You have a life before you have children, before you are married. But you have never had a life without a mom … until you no longer have a mom.”

My few dear friends whose moms passed away while they were young are in my mind’s eye…

I know this isn’t true for everyone, but for me, my entire adult life I’ve had a very clear, very strong sense that honoring and taking care of my parents was an integral part of my life calling. That was just what I was supposed to do. A race to run.

Getting Dad’s house up for sale felt like the last leg of that race. (Want to buy it?)

I had to catch my breath for a bit, as one does after a long run.

And now I’ve caught my breath and I am filled with gratitude that I was given the honor of running that race.

For the past few years, I remember having the thought that I wouldn’t really be able to write honestly until both my parents had died. That might sound weird. It’s not as if I have secrets about them to tell, there were the most transparent, what-you-see-is-what-you-get people I’ve ever known.

But they read everything I wrote. So I remember often holding back writing about hard things because I didn’t want to make Mom sad. After she passed, I didn’t want to write openly about how much I missed her, because I didn’t want to make Dad sad.

Nothing can make them sad now. *smile*

I have so many things I want to write about I don’t know where to begin. It feels like opening a closet filled with special things, stashed away. A special visiting guests asks to see a treasure or two. Where do I start?

I guess I’ll start with gratitude.

You don’t know how critical some habits are until you realize that without that habit, that training, you wouldn’t have made it through something hard. Like training to run a race but then one day you need that speed to outrun a bear. šŸ™‚ Whoa, that 6-minute mile sure came in handy.

Honestly, gratitude is easy right now. We are in an exceedingly sweet season. Dutch & Heidi are flourishing and so fun to be around. The little boys are a load of work but so, so funny. All four kids are at home for this very short season. Jeff and I had a hard few years but are in a great place, truly enjoying each other more than we ever have. We love our home. We love our church family. We laugh a lot.

But I’ve also seen gratitude carry someone through the valley of the shadow of death. Incredibly, both Mom & Dad became more grateful with age.

It is well-known that as we age we become a caricature of ourselves. A slight tendency in our youth becomes an almost comically exaggerated trait as the years go by. I have seen this, so sadly, in a tendency to see oneself as a victim. This chosen perspective can take over one’s mind and become the only lens through which life is seen. All of life can become complaint.

Of all of life can become thanksgiving. In his final weeks, my sweet dad would quietly thank Kris every time he changed him. No mention of his discomfort, the difficulty of dying, the humiliation of the situation. Just, thank you.

As long as she had words my mom lips poured out broken phrases of gratitude.

The day we buried Dad I put the song Gratitude on repeat.

So I don’t know what my Second Half looks like, but my prayer is that it continues to become increasingly characterized by gratitude. And, I hope to write more. šŸ˜‰ Thank you for reading.

Second Mile Quote

Hello friends! I’m in Idaho this weekend sharing about The Second Mile with awesome ladies from Eagle Christian Church, and a number of you were wanting this quote, in its entirety, so I figured this was the easiest way to get it to you. Speaking of, if your church is looking to do a retreat in 2024, I’d love to pray about joining you! You can go to the Speaking Page to see topic options. Thanks! Here’s the quote:

Jesus evidently is speaking here especially of some person who dislikes us, criticizes us, maliciously plans against us and seeks our hurt. What he says is that our love for that person should be so great that we are more willing to serve him than he is to make us — yes, twice as willing. That no malice of his should ever reduce our souls to the level of hatred, or spoil our invincible love that pushes through all wrongs, still willing to serve him more and win him if he can … whatever comes, his hate will never ruin my goodwill. I will take his unfriendliness as my opportunity for unrequited service, and when the first ill of his unkindness has been traveled I will say, “Man, my master is Christ and Christ never let any man’s unkindness spoil his love. I am trying to follow Him and I am not going to let your unkindness spoil my love. You may not be my friend, but I am yours, and nothing you can ever do will stop it.”

Harry Fosdick, The Second Mile. 1908

Backstage

I looked back over the list. I didnā€™t want to mess this up. Adult STL ā€¦ thatā€™s my cue. Iā€™m the Adult on Stage Left. I just need to pay attention, remember my jobs, donā€™t crash into any cast member with the benches. Donā€™t let the backdrop get caught on the hooks. 

Heidi is currently in her 6th show with CYT and this is my 6th show working backstage. I love the job. To me, itā€™s such a privilege to see all the behind the scenes, even if it isnā€™t always pretty. 

As crew backstage, we get to see the mad scramble for Sethā€™s missing set-piece. We get to see how he made due without it and still carried the scene. We get to see how Zach stepped in to help when we were short-handed, how Dylan hustles to make that quick-change. We get to see little huddles of 3ā€™s and 4ā€™s praying for each other before the show starts. 

What we donā€™t get to see? 

The show.

Of course we get bits and pieces. We hear the music. We sing along offstage, we laugh at the funny lines and silently celebrate when someone nails their song. We high-five when we get a set-change done flawlessly. Itā€™s fun.

But itā€™s not the same as seeing the show. 

Itā€™s rewarding in its own way, but honestly: Sometimes it can get tiring going the same unseen task, again and again and again. Silent. Invisible. Often-times, if weā€™re putting something far downstage, we set pieces that we never even see used. We just have this long list of things to do, and we might not have any idea what the actual finished product looks like.

This isnā€™t just true for crew, itā€™s also true for cast. No matter what your role, no cast member gets to see the whole show. They donā€™t see whatā€™s behind them. They donā€™t see the scenes they arenā€™t in. They get bits and pieces. They learn their lines, their cues, their dances. 

But no one in the show gets to see it all together right before their eyes. 

For every show, I book my own ticket to watch for the final show. Itā€™s like my reward for a full two weekends working backstage. And by then, my own appreciation for the hard-work backstage is at its full height! By this time, even as I watch the show Iā€™m silently praying the crew kids can make all their changes. Iā€™m praying Heidi gets her quick-mic-change in time. And Iā€™m awed and amazed, often to tears, to see how it all works together.

Oh THATā€™s what that scene is all about. Oh THATā€™s why we put that backdrop there. Oh THATā€s why it has to be exactly so and so. 

Now I see. 

There were a couple hard things today. Jeff sent me a photo of my mom and I wished more than anything she were there. Oh man sheā€™d love this show. And my thoughts swirled to various things I was facing, and also to her life and how she navigated the hard stuff. 

So much we donā€™t see

As followers of Jesus in His Kingdom, weā€™re all cast and crew members. I picture angels as the audience, and weā€™ll join them once weā€™re glory. They see it. They can see whatā€™s going on. They know why itā€™s so important that we forgive this person. Why we HAVE to keep our mouth shuts in certain situations. Why God puts different people in different places for different seasons. Why weā€™re supposed to sing this harmony but not that one. 

Weā€™re not the Director. We do as weā€™re told, and trust that itā€™s whatā€™s best. 

Sometimes we get weary, yes? Just me? We try to remember that weā€™re not the Director of this show. There is only One. And we havenā€™t been given a ticket just yet to see the fullness of how this is all working together. This Kingdom thing.

And so we work and wait and trust. We believe that a good Director is giving us the right cues. That if we are faithful with our part, He will work something together for good that is beautiful.

And someday weā€™ll wake up, and itā€™ll be the most glorious show. Heavenly popcorn and all our beloved people and we will get to watch as the Director of the World unveils His Show. Beaming, giddy with delight, He announces:

THIS, my children, is what I was doing all along! Watch and see!

And the film will roll. And weā€™ll see it in its glorious whole, weā€™ll see the part we played, weā€™ll see why it mattered. Weā€™ll laugh and cry and go, ā€œOh yes, remember that time?! So THATā€™s what was going on! I was so confused!ā€

Itā€™s going to be good. God give us courage and grace to keep playing our part.Ā 

Our day-in-the-life 2023

Hey friends! It’s time for our annual day-in-the-life post over at Simple Homeschool. I love reading these posts. Of course they have to be somewhat short, I could fill another whole post just listing all the mishaps we have every day. šŸ˜‰ But here’s what our routine looks like these days!

—-

Warmth. Itā€™s January 12th, and as I stir awake Iā€™m grateful again for the flannel sheets and plush Pendleton blanket we got for Christmas. Four-year-old Justice brings more warmth beside me; he has crawled in at some point last night and I love it.

I know how short these snuggle years are.

He stirs. Mama, want to go downstairs and read your Bible?

Yeah Buddy, just a few more minutes is my form of hitting snooze. He snuggles for a minute more than asks again, and I see the light rising outside. Itā€™s time to start the day.

We currently live with my dad as he undergoes treatment for leukemia, and we build a house next door. We began in a travel trailer in the driveway last March, but weā€™ve slowly settled inside.

Dutch (16), Heidi (almost 14), and Ben (2) have their own rooms (well, Ben has a big closet), while Justice, Jeff, and I have mattresses on the floor of the bonus room. Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool!https://simplehomeschool.net/kari2023/