Till We Meet Again

by Joanie Butman

A few years ago, my father-in-law decided he didn’t like the idea of saying goodbye, so he stopped using the term. He changed it to “see you later” or “see you in a few months” – always something open ended. When I asked the reason for his sudden aversion to saying goodbye, he explained that the term sounded too final. In light of recent events, now more than ever, there are tears in his eyes as he sends us off. I’m sure wondering whether he’ll see us again is weighing heavy on his heart – and ours as well.

In order to appreciate the following story, you have to understand the not always amicable push/pull relationship I have with the Colonel (my father-in-law). The most common these days is who’s driving when we go anywhere. Despite the fact that he’s 97, I always lose that argument.

Just last summer I discovered that the reason he keeps his coveted Makita drill in the dining room is so I can’t find it! I shouldn’t have been shocked but I was, mainly because I’ve been borrowing it from his covert hiding spot for years. When I told him his secret was out, he didn’t even try to deny it. Instead he conceded, “Half the time I don’t know whether to be irritated because it isn’t there when I need it, or impressed that a woman knows how to use it.” He describes me as ‘unusual’ because I use tools and speak my mind – traits he definitely doesn’t value in a woman.

Having vastly different beliefs in many areas, he and I have engaged in many ‘lively,’ fascinating conversations. The longest one has to be our ongoing discussion about the existence of God – usually initiated by him. I’ve never had any desire to convert him. Quite the opposite; he seems to have a vested interest in converting me to atheism. Maybe if I point out that there aren’t any goodbyes from my perspective, he might reconsider. In the case of one Christian to another, our farewells are always open ended because we know death is not the end but just the beginning. It’s not goodbye, it’s until we meet again.

The day after his wife died, I quietly posted this image on his refrigerator. It was the only comfort I had to offer his aching heart. He never said a word, and it disappeared shortly thereafter. I assumed he threw it out. However, following her memorial, it mysteriously reappeared on the fridge – creased and worn. Apparently, he’d been carrying it around in his pocket. I was stunned that it was still in his possession, and even more so, that he’d returned it to its original spot where he can see it during every meal that he now eats in solitude. I don’t know if his heart is softening, but I do know he wants to believe he will see his wife again. As he explained to me, his scientific mind just keeps getting in the way.

The reason I share this story is to illustrate that you never know the impact you might have by your choice to share “the reason for the hope that you have” – provided you do it with gentleness and respect, as Peter suggests (1 Peter 3:15). It was a gutsy move, choosing to share my Christian belief with the Colonel in his fragile state. I made it, fully prepared for his standard rebuff. Yet given the circumstances, I offered the only thing of value I had that might help ease his pain – my faith. I leave it to God to do the rest.

Goodbyes come in many forms – some sadder than others. The following two songs are beautiful examples of a Christian’s approach to death. Matthew West wrote the first for his grandmother’s funeral. The second one mirrors the message I gave Paul.

Choose Now!

by Joanie Butman 

As most of you know from last week’s post, my mother-in-law passed away at the end of July. In the days and weeks that followed, the saddest part was listening to the laments over sentiments not shared with Elinor while her mind was still clear enough to understand and appreciate them. Even at her advanced age of 98, people tend to live under the delusion that there will always be more time. My father-in-law commented that he felt ‘cheated’ because she was taken too soon. Keep in mind, they just celebrated their 74th wedding anniversary, which is longer than some people live! I thought it was a beautiful testament to their enduring love story.

Regardless, hearing people voice their regrets reminded me that of the countless stupid comments and angry words I’ve uttered in my life, it is the ones left unsaid that sometimes can be the most damaging and the ones I regret the most. Too often the person to whom I wanted to express them isn’t in my life anymore, so those sentiments are lost forever – a wasted opportunity to encourage, affirm, apologize, forgive, or convey love. I’ve never known anyone who bemoaned offering a kind word, an apology, forgiveness or affection. Even if it’s out of your comfort zone or when it costs you dearly, choosing to offer affirmation is a gift that will last long after you’re gone. Elinor’s legacy of love is a perfect example. Of her abundant admirable qualities, always having a kind word for everyone had to be one of her most endearing.

With the services over, our extended family members will scatter to their respective homes to resume their own lives. I believe they leave full of renewed appreciation for the opportunities to share so many memorable moments with the family at Elinor’s beloved beach cottage, and with a poignant reminder to never wait to let someone know what they mean to you.

Whether your 98 or 28, no one knows what tomorrow will bring. The best way I can honor Elinor is to choose today, and every day, to tell my own family and friends how much I love them and how blessed and grateful I feel to have them in my life.

The Porch

by Joanie Butman

Growing up in Brooklyn, the stoop was where we socialized. If it wasn’t the stoop, it was the corner. Though we were often identified by the creative names we invented, our location was coveted real estate. Whether it was a stoop or a corner, both served the same purpose. A place to simply “be,” a tradition that seems to be lost in our society. The closest thing I can think of to compare it to is the bar on the old TV series Cheers whose theme song aptly describes the porch mentality,

Making your way in the world 

today takes everything you’ve got.

Taking a break from all your worries,

 sure would help a lot.

Wouldn’t you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,

and they’re always glad you came.

You wanna be where you can see,

our troubles are all the same

You wanna be where everybody knows

your name.

The reason it comes to mind now is that in the summer my family lives in Rockport, Massachusetts and “the porch” is the heart of our tiny community. There is nothing fancy about it. It probably hasn’t changed much since the day it was built in the early 1900’s.

I have spent some of my most cherished moments on my in-law’s front porch. It has hosted many a victory ice cream after the Doll Carriage Parade, hours of idle chatter, rocking babies, naps, yards sales, lemonade stands, cocktail hours, parties, and the inevitable noontime beer and sandwich; and if your lucky, one of my mother-in-law’s famous Maple Leaf hotdogs on a toasted bun. 

My father-in-law’s specialty has always been hacking the watermelon for eager children to devour. That porch has produced generations of happy memories. Its rhythm is just as steady as the ocean it presides over.

So, you can imagine my surprise to learn that there is actually a Professional Porch Sitters Union. According to the founder, Claude Stephens, “Starting your own chapter of PPSU is simple. You simply declare yourself a local chapter, pick a number to represent your Local Chapter identity and then sit back with friends and neighbors to celebrate with an interesting story or two. Meetings can be called at any time by any member and attendance is optional.” Voila! He just described my summer and my early life in Brooklyn.

             Four Generations of Porch Sitters

I might be a minority, but I value what porches represent; namely, a simpler time. A time when people lived more slowly – when life wasn’t a race but a journey to be savored. A time when the porch was the social media of the day. There is no doubt in my mind that when you have nothing to say, that is when real communication begins, just ask any therapist. The porch discussions vary widely from the sublime to the ridiculous, and I’ve often toyed with the idea of writing a book of Paulisms (my father-in-law) that have been uttered on that porch. The stories I’ve heard there could fill volumes if I could just remember them. Regardless, that porch represents family in its purest sense. It is home – a place without pretense, a place where I am always welcome (or if I’m not, they pretend I am), a place with no expectations, a place to grow old surrounded by your loved ones, a place to simply sit and enjoy the lazy days of summer.

While reading up on the PPSU, I learned it doesn’t have a motto per se, just a suggestion, “Sit down a spell. That can wait.” A procrastinator’s dream! I’m starting a chapter called PPSU 80 – the address of my favorite summer haunt. My in-laws will be honored.

You might be wondering what my life-defining choice is here. Certainly not earth-shattering by any means. It is simply to stop and sit a spell, to be in the moment, to put aside my “to do” list, to give myself permission to be lazy, to listen to other people’s stories, to take the time to enjoy those I love while I still have the opportunity. It may seem silly, but it is a choice whose importance you never appreciate until it is no longer an option.

At 95 I don’t know how many more summers will find my in-laws at their posts on the porch, so I dedicate this to Paul and Elinor Butman for always saving me a seat at their table, on their porch and in their hearts. Thank you.

Choosing the High Road

by Joanie Butman

When God wants to address an issue in my life, He often places it right in my lap where it’s impossible to ignore. Obviously, shame has been the most recent one. I’d like to share one last story that precipitated my recent reconciliation with a long-buried struggle with shame. It began with an inspiring and heart-warming testimony from black pastor who had a 20-year career as a police officer in a predominantly white community. In fact, he didn’t receive his calling into official ministry until he was in his 70’s! That said, he probably ministered to more people in his role as law enforcement than from the pulpit.

Anyway, he described the challenge of being a person of color during the Civil Rights Movement in the 60’s. He spoke of the steady barrage of derogatory racial comments from his fellow officers and his lack of progression through the ranks during his 20-year tenure. Yet he remained committed to his position and tolerated the efforts to make him (and his family) feel ‘less than.’ When asked how he managed to maintain his dignity amongst such obvious disdain, he responded, “I’m not going to run fearful because of who I am because I trust in whose I am. God is my protector.”

Even so, he spoke of his retirement from the police force when he was awarded a gold ring for his service. The Reverend explained that he couldn’t wear the ring bestowed upon him because there was so much shame attached to it. He hid it in his drawer where it stayed until years later when God’s redemption plan for him surfaced. The officer who led the pack, degrading him for years with racial slurs, approached him and asked him to sing at his mother’s funeral, which marked the beginning of healing on many levels. It was only then that he could take that ring out from hiding and wear it with pride. His new calling into ministry earned the respect denied him for so long from his fellow officers. He may not have their back any longer as a member of the police force, but he now covers them in an even more life-saving manner by tending to their souls

One of the most encouraging comments he left us with was his deliberate decision to always choose joy regardless of his circumstances. Surprised, one of the attendees asked him to share his secret for remaining joyful amongst such difficult circumstances. He responded, “This joy I have? The world didn’t give it to me, and the world can’t take it away.” Amen to that!

There is no doubt in my mind that shame is a cancer of the soul. Left untreated, it will consume you. What kind of circumstances are you facing that threaten to rob the joy that is yours in Christ? I’ll leave you with the Reverend's creed he chooses to live by, “Trust and obey, there’s no other way.”

Mea Culpa

by Joanie Butman

You’d think after experiencing a spiritual Independence Day like the one I mentioned a couple of weeks ago I’d be more patient and forgiving towards others, or at least more joyful. I was, until speaking to the support people at GoDaddy. Just the night before the ‘incident,’ I listened to a joy-filled pastor giving his testimony about experiencing racial prejudice as an African American police officer. When asked how he remained so joyful, he responded, “This joy I have? The world didn’t give it to me, and the world can’t take it away.” Ha! Apparently he’s never spoken to anyone on the GoDaddy or Apple support lines.

For those of you not fluid in computerese, GoDaddy is the hosting company for the Choose Wisely website. I contacted them because the site wasn’t functioning properly. They ran me through a series of diagnostics and determined there was nothing wrong. After 45 minutes and two representatives, I would have been more satisfied if they told me Satan himself had hijacked my computer rather than their robotic insistence that everything was fine on their end. “THEN WHY ISN'T IT WORKING?” I shouted from the depths of my now joyless soul. My recent epiphany may have prevented me from going all Brooklyn on him, as my girlfriend would say, but I certainly wasn’t pleasant.

I won’t bore you further with my computer concerns, but suffice it to say the issues were on my end. I can’t get poor Eric back on the phone, nor do I think he’d even accept my call, so I will apologize publicly to anyone who has ever had the misfortune of working on a computer support line and receiving a call from yours truly. Having been on the other end myself at one time, you’d think I’d be more empathetic.Thinking back on the scenario, it occurred to me that I’d been having a similar life-long conversation with Jesus, my own spiritual help line of sorts following Draconian self-diagnoses. Like Eric, Jesus had been insisting there was nothing ‘WRONG’ on His end, to no avail. I can just hear Him lovingly and patiently explaining, “I can’t recreate what you’re seeing, everything looks fine on my end. If I can’t see it, I can’t fix it. The problem is on your end.”

Ain’t that the truth? Therein lies the problem of guilt and shame we’ve been discussing recently. I spent years trying to convince God there was a problem on His end and begging Christ to fix it. That long dialogue wasn’t anymore successful than my interaction with GoDaddy support. In both cases, my stubborn arguments got me nowhere. I couldn’t convince GoDaddy there was something wrong with their program anymore than I could convince God there was something wrong with His program (forgiveness through Christ). Technically, I will always have an issue with sin this side of heaven, BUT, and this is what Christ has been trying to get through to me, “I resolved it on the cross. Done. Finito. Let it go.”

I owe apologies all around because, as I said, my computer problems were, indeed, on my end. Maybe it was Satan because I went to another computer and the website worked fine. You laugh and think Satan might be a stretch? If his purpose is to fill us with frustration and despair, computer glitches would be a brilliant strategy! Even if there was no spiritual warfare involved here, there is no doubt in my mind that he was responsible for the personal programming bug that was interfering with my ability to accept Christ’s unconditional love and forgiveness.

In closing, my point is that God merely wants us to see what He sees on His end. When we choose to hold onto guilt and shame after confessing, we negate His extravagant gift of grace which, in turn, causes a glitch in our spiritual software. His forgiveness is complete in Christ, so we need to learn to see ourselves through His eyes rather than our own. Christ's sacrifice on our behalf gives us the freedom to choose to reprogram our minds and resist the temptation to listen to Satan’s shaming accusations.

Choose to see what God sees.

Shame on You

by Joanie Butman

In light of last week’s post regarding guilt and shame, I laughed out loud as a perfect illustration of their difference arrived in the local paper’s police blotter. The headline read, Blonde Steals Largest Swimsuit from Store. She was further identified as a heavyset woman – a conspicuous distinction in this town. Thank goodness she wasn’t brunette or I’d be under suspicion!

The article went on to say that “the stolen item was the only one in size 16, which is the largest they carry.” I was stunned and immediately thought, “They’re fat shaming her.” The store manager was then quoted, “What if we caught her? Wouldn’t she have felt humiliated?” By which – the theft or her hefty girth? Maybe that’s why she stole the swimsuit in the first place; she was too ashamed to purchase a size 16! A comical example for sure, but it illustrates how easy it is to target the person as opposed to the action. Why would the size of the woman or the suit be relevant in reporting the theft? Perhaps the store manager considered fat shaming a just punishment.

“Shame on You!” is a frequently heard idiom (or curse) and one I didn’t give much thought to until I heard Brene Brown’s TED Talk on the Power of Vulnerability. Ms. Brown is a research professor at the University of Houston specializing in shame resilience. Her famous talk went viral catapulting her (and her research) into the limelight. Clearly she hit a nerve with her speech because it’s rated one of the most popular TED Talks with over 20 million views.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s fat shame or some other deep-seeded shame planted years ago into the fabric of your being. It’s my guess we all have something buried within that stifles our ability to experience the abundant life God planned for us. Last week my friend corrected me for using deep-seeded vs. deep-seated. I changed it, but the more I thought about it during the week I realized I did mean deep-seeded because do you know what happens when you plant a seed too deep? It fails to flourish.

That’s the damage the nuns I mentioned last week inflicted. They sowed seeds of shame and condemnation so deep in my soul my relationship with God couldn’t grow. I left their tutelage convinced I was hopeless and on the fast track to hell. Let me tell you something: When you think you’re going to hell anyway, the decision to have a good time on the way down seemed like the logical choice at the time. So that’s exactly what I did for a while, leaving me feeling frustrated, restless and empty. I knew I was missing something but couldn’t identify what ‘it’ was. Turns out it wasn’t an ‘it’ but a He.

Thank goodness I was led to some incredibly faithful and joy-filled spiritual mentors that brought those hidden seeds of shame into the light so they could receive the fertilization of God’s love and forgiveness. It was only then that I could mature and receive the freedom available through Jesus Christ. When covered in His grace rather than smothering layers of shame, you can’t help but blossom with an unshakeable inner joy, peace and beauty regardless of your size because God looks at your heart not your waistline.

Choosing to exhume those unhealthy seeds isn’t comfortable or pain free. Neither is it a one-time event. It’s an ongoing process of transforming your mind by challenging long-held beliefs about yourself, about God and about your relationship with Him. I can’t say it’s an easy road, but I promise you choosing to start the journey will be the beginning of a great adventure.

*http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability