His name is Shawn. Big heart, full of joy, filling tanks one by one.
The thermometer in the car read -12 degrees. My tank was near empty, approximately 30 miles displayed on my dashboard, and I never know how fully I should trust that man made gauge anyway. Groceries filled the car, and baby too, and I had questioned my decision to go out in the weather long before I realized my tank was empty.
I debated. Risk stalling in subzero weather with a baby in tow, or stop and get some gas, even though I detest this cold and don’t feel like pumping gas in it? I decided to stop. Just a bit of gas, I thought. Enough to get me home safely, without worry.
Decidedly brave enough to face the cold for a couple minutes, I stepped out, slipped my credit card in, and opened the tank. With near urgency, this stranger, Shawn, approached my vehicle. He put his gloves on like this was of most importance, like he really wanted to help. Asked if he could pump, said it’s full service. “Really,” I said?! Without reservation, but still in shock, I handed him the pump and got back in the car with the door open just a crack open to carry on conversation.
“Just a little is fine,” I said, then with a change of heart “No, why don’t you go ahead and fill it up!”
“I’m here 7:00 to 3:10, Monday through Friday,” Shawn explained about this full service, standing seemingly in comfort, pumping my gas, bundled up in layers, a hat fit for a true Minnesota man. “Even when it’s -30 below, I’m here!”
In his confident assurance and my quiet disbelief, he used that magic cleaning wand to wet and wipe my front windshield, then again in the back. The last time I did that myself, I don’t recall. A small, but true blessing to be able to see so clearly.
Our time together came to an end, and I thanked Shawn with all sincerity. I promised I’d be back and that I’d tell everyone about Shawn and this special place that offers full service in a do-it-yourself kind of world.
The funny thing was that I had been feeling a little discouraged. I set out to blog about people that inspire me, people that make a difference, people that demonstrate excellence and go above and beyond, people that aren’t afraid to shine their light in a dark world. But near seven months into this blogging journey, I had without a doubt missed opportunities because I was not courageous enough to approach, I had not seen the extravagant greatness and excellence and beauty in people I had set out to see. Unrealistically high expectations collided with my luke-warm bravery. Between the missed opportunities and the not seeing, I was ready to move beyond all this earthly nonsense and start seeing, start risking, start the way down this narrow path already envisioned.
So as I drove away, I just knew I had to turn around. I pulled around the block and in behind Shawn where I found him filling up a beat up car. He gently tapped the side of that beat up car and sent them on their way.
Out popped my head, and I explained I just had to come back, he was such an inspiration out here in this -12 degree weather pumping gas, filling up tanks with joy. He’s an employee, and he’s been pumping gas, providing full service here for four years, he explained. I wanted to know if he really likes this job as much as it seems? “Yes,” he said, “because I get to meet all kinds of wonderful people like you!”
After a click of the camera phone and another thank you, I was on my way. The subzero temperature still read on my dashboard, but my tank was full, and I was a little more courageous than the time before. And there was Shawn, with his warm smile, light radiating, joy overflowing, in the lot of that gas station, waiting to fill another tank.
Amy
It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the wjords of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.
The word of the week is AFRAID.
I watched them in the gym on Wednesday.
Like robots, walking across the gym floor. One arm up, one leg up. The other arm up, other leg up.
They carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Balls over their heads. Up, down. Up, down. Lunge. Lunge. Balls over heads. Up and over. Up and over. Never letting it go.
Revelation Song played on my iPod.
As they sat, I caught a glimpse of souls.
The woman in red at the end? Full of insecurity. Isolates herself, as if she doesn’t want to be noticed.
And the one with the cute logo on her shirt? A people pleaser. She’s been that way her whole life.
The woman with the perfect braid and the chest that seems too big to be real? She’s all about perfection. Always trying, harder and harder to meet the unattainable standard.
And the woman in green that carries herself as if she’s not so sure? She’s experienced a lot of pain and she hurts. She’s compared herself and she doesn’t meet the standard. She’s a survivor, but she feels inferior.
I crossed paths with this magazine. GQ. For men. Beyonce on the cover. Her body perfect. Seriously, perfect. She had her first baby just a year ago, just a couple weeks before I had my third.
I struggle to take off the three pounds I gained at Christmas, and now an extra pound on top of that, leaving me still seven pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight. And this Beyonce? She’s already on the cover making it look all easy and she’s perfect.
The men reading this magazine? They see Beyonce, knowing full well she gave birth last year. Do men, in their heart of hearts, wish we looked like that? And the women who cross paths with these images? Do they see Beyonce, also knowing full well she gave birth last year, and expect themselves to look just as perfect? Even though it’s near impossibility?
To carry the weight of the world on our shoulders is a burden too heavy to bear. I’m afraid we can’t live up to your standard, GQ. For Beyonce probably has a personal chef and a personal trainer and a nanny that helps care for her child every day, and a butler and a maid who tend to every whim.
I must ignore these images of perfection, because they are not real. Women bearing the weight of the world are full of insecurity, inferiority. They want to please, they want to perfect. And it’s not going to happen. We can’t be perfect. We aren’t perfect. So stop making us afraid.
There are also heavenly bodies and there are earthly bodies; but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind, and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another. 1 Corinthians 15:40
Amy
To the Powers that Be:
As we sat around the Christmas tree that evening, grandma asked if we would each share something we were grateful for in 2012 and something we were looking forward to in 2013.
When it came time for my son to share his gratitude for the past and hope for the future, I couldn’t believe my ears. This 10-year-old son of mine? What was he grateful for? What hope did he have for the new year?
He shared with all sincerity, all seriousness…he was glad he was alive in 2012, and hopes he stays alive in 2013.
This certainly wasn’t the response grandma planned when she dreamed up this hope-filled family activity around the tree.
Mama to this 10-year-old boy, I calmly reassured him “You don’t need to worry about that,” as if he shouldn’t be worried about such a thing. But he responded again with all seriousness, “Well, it could happen.” There was something real in his voice, something that told me he wasn’t kidding, that he knows full well the realities of this world.
I had nothing else to say, no other words seemed fitting in that moment. What is a mama to say when her 10-year-old says around the Christmas tree that he’s glad to be alive and that he hopes he’s going to be alive next year? For there is always a possibility any one of us might pass to a better place this year.
It had been just 9 days since the Sandy Hook incident in Connecticut. He had heard, but we hadn’t dwelled. The pictures and stories were pouring in, and I’m sure there was discussion among children at school. We had even gotten a call from the school principal indicating our daughter had been sent down because she was feeling anxious about being safe in school. But him? This boy who rarely shares detail and emotes very little from the depths of his soul? Prior to the incident around the tree, he gave us no indication he was scared for his life.
This has haunted my soul for more than a month. To think my 10-year-old lives in a world where he has to fear for his life! To think he is so worried, so concerned for the existence of his life that it’s the first thing that comes to his mind in an innocent moment of gratitude and hope around the Christmas tree! To think a 7-year-old has to be sent to the principal’s office because she’s anxious about being at school because a gunman might enter at any moment and start shooting it up! To think this same girl has expressed fear about sitting in a movie theater because she’s scared somebody might sneak in “like they did at Batman” and start shooting everybody?!
May I ask, what has gone wrong with our society?
May I ask, do we really want 7-year-olds and 10-year-olds to be scared for their lives? In the United States of America?!
May I ask, where are our priorities?
May I ask, do we really realize the severity, the depth of this problem?
May I ask, who do we blame?
May I ask, what do we blame?
May I ask, where does all of this evil originate anyway?
May I ask, how am I supposed to combat my son’s fear of life and death when he’s still trying to solve math problems and spell and write a story that makes sense?
May I ask, why in the world should my children have to worry about the possibility of being shot to death when they go to school or a movie?
May I suggest that this is a battle between good and evil?
May I suggest we must take a much harder stance than we ever have to fight this battle in our homes, in our neighborhoods, in our schools, in our cities and states and in our nation? For that matter, around the globe?
May I suggest that we need to stop politicizing issues of life and death and get down to business of determining a better course of action? A more noble course of action?
May I suggest that we need to gather around moms and dads as they raise little ones?
May I suggest that we need to get out of our little bubbles of isolation and be in community so we’re raising a generation that values life?
May I suggest that our hearts are sick?
May I suggest we develop more empathy, more heart towards one another?
May I suggest that we start addressing and treating mental illness for what it is rather than shunning or ignoring or writing them off as so called “cray cray?” for someone else to handle?
May I suggest that seriously evil individuals will continue to be ruthless in achieving their objectives?
May I suggest that this nation has experienced so much fortune that some of us have become blind to reality?
May I suggest that the solutions do not lie solely in gun control legislation and mental health reform, but in getting on our knees in prayer for this nation, for our government, for our states and cities and neighborhoods, for families and children?
People, we are in a battle.
And as a mama, the only answer that seems clear is that I need to be bold and courageous about my work as a mama. I need to love. I need to support. I need to encourage. I need to pray and pray and pray for my children. I need to give them a firm foundation. I need to use words that will build up instead of tear down. I need to surround my children with people that will make them feel worthy. I need to do the hard work it takes to raise a citizen of character, of integrity, of goodness. A citizen that will not lose hope, a citizen that will not grow weary. A citizen that respects life and doesn’t take it for granted. A citizen that knows we are in battle, and it’s time to stand up and fight.
Fear not little boy, for I will do my best to provide these things for you. Fear not little boy, for if you let me show you and if you open your heart, you will see there is a God who is much greater than all our fears. A God who heals, a God who redeems, a God who restores, a God better and bigger than all this. For you can put your fear in His hands, and let it rest there, son.
And as a speech-language pathologist, I have to say that perhaps Gabby Giffords, with a most emphatic voice, said it best this morning…
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mysteryof the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should. Ephesians 6:10-20
Amy
Today, I am so excited to introduce you to my childhood friend’s mom, Barb, who has stolen my heart with her homemade pickles since I was a little child!
Again and again and again. I could eat those pickles all day long, every day, all year round.
Those pickles, there when I was a child. On the island when we would come in from swimming in our kiddie pool. Pickles with tuna salad sandwiches. Pickles in the basement after a birthday party game of pin the tail on the donkey, all cut up in a little bowl with sloppy joes. Pickles at graduation parties and Christmas parties and family nights all gathered around on couches in innocence. Pickles after swimming in the sun, pickles after we stuffed our mouths full of Skittles, pickles all around.
Those pickles, there in the early years of our adulthood. That night we came to visit, childhood friends all gathered, now me with baby in hand. Pickles were there, yes indeed.
Those pickles, there at the wedding table. Sunflowers and tents and faces from the past. Childhood friends now women all grown up, at a distance. Girlish memories undeniably strong at that childhood home, yet faint in the presence of husbands and fiancees and teachers all retired. We’re adults now. Lives have moved forward, but the pickles? They remain the same. On the wedding table, ever present, ever drawing me in to take more and more, just as delicious as always.
Those pickles, on the table at an unforgettable baby shower. The guest of honor not present, my heart torn and conflicted and unsure and worn down, and desperate for answers and understanding. The familiarity of that pickle, the familiarity of that house and those faces, all at odd ease to embrace a little hope child in the midst of much uncertainty.
Those pickles, often on my mind. A basket of pickles at a silent auction reminds me of Barb. I wish I knew how to make pickles like that, like Barb. Thoughts of my ideal self surface. The mom that cans pickles, the mom that brings her children and her childrens’ friends delight in such simple goodness.
Those pickles, a surprise. At Christmas, an unexpected gift. To: Amy. From: Barb. Barb gave mom a can and sent a can for me. A smile, a real smile. What more could I ask for but a can of the best pickles ever?
Those pickles, I finished the last one last week. Treasured each bite again and again. Stood still in my kitchen and soaked it in. The awesomeness of that last pickle.
In all the change, the pickle remains the same. It has always remained the same. Always predictable, always delectable, always just right, always satisfying, always a delight.
Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate. Proverbs 31:31
Amy
It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the wjords of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.
The word of the week is AGAIN. (OK, I admit, I went more like 10 minutes today instead of 5! Forgive me, I had a lot to say about those pickles!)
It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the wjords of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.
The word of the week is CHERISHED.
I dreamed of sponsoring children since I was a child myself.
Years passed, and that dream never faded.
Last August, we sponsored little Bethchaida from Haiti. Knit in her mother’s womb, handpicked by our family to love from a distance.
Last week, we received a packet for little Djino, our sweet correspondent child from Haiti. He has a sponsor, but we have the privilege of encouraging him through handwritten letters sent miles through the mail.
I want to love on these little ones, let them know they are precious, worthy, cherished.
In 2013, I have a goal to clean out my life (literally and figuratively) and start saving creatively for a Compassion International sponsor trip to Haiti so I can visit one or both of these precious children. We landed in Haiti just one day, and I feel a strong call to return. It is time to let these little ones know they are cherished and worth any and every sacrifice.
But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first. Matthew 19:30
Amy
I love this! We have the honor of sponsoring children through Compassion in Africa and it’s been a bigger blessing to us in some ways. My heart leaps at their letters, their drawings, their pictures as they grow. Praying you get to Haiti and pour out all of that love!
Here from Lisa-Jo’s. Thanks for sharing your heart for Compassion children. I, too, hope to one day take a sponsor trip to visit our sponosered child in the Dominican Republic. What a blessing they are to us, even as we help provide for them. Blessings to you.
How great is that! I love your compassion and cherishing heart. Keep on being you.
Had the privilege of travelling to the DR this past November and working with several different Compassion sites. Such a joy to meet so many precious children whose lives are so blessed by sponsorship. What a worthy goal and desire that God has laid on your heart, Amy! Praying for you as you pursue His will!
Hi Becky! I’m thinking you might be able to answer a question I have about the sponsor trips. Are you able to visit a number of different child development centers? Do you meet your child and their family at the child development center or at their home, or both? Our sponsored child told us it takes her about 38 minutes to get to the child development center. Would love to hear more details about your experience!