Pee-Pie! I See You!

Do you say ‘peek-a-boo or pee-pie when you play the hiding game with babies? When my grandbaby started getting the game, he would hide behind the ottoman and pop his head up to look at me. I shared the moment in a phone video to his parents. My son texted back ‘what are you saying? It sounds like pee pie?’ 

That’s when I realized I had not passed that bit of heritage down to my kids.  I grew up playing ‘pee-pie’ from my southern grandparents. Then I moved further north and converted to ‘peek-a-boo.' And reverted back to ‘pee-pie’ with my grandbaby. Researching it on Proper Southern Woman I confirmed that it is a southern thing. Either way, we usually follow it with “I see you!”

I guess it starts that young. We want others to see us.  We want to be visible. We want acknowledgment. We want people to look up from the sidewalk or their phone with eyes that say “I see you. We are here in this place together.” I admit I like for people to notice I’m here. But it delights me when the Lord sees me. The God who sees me.

One of my favorite names for God is the one Hagar used in the wilderness.

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.”  Genesis 16:13

Hagar was alone.  Her employer had the gall to ask her to sleep with her husband to provide a child for him.  Then she hated Hagar for doing what she had requested. So Hagar fled and found herself out on the street, pregnant and thirsty. She found a fountain of water, where she had an unusual encounter with an angel. He told her to go back to her employer; back to the difficult situation.  God did not fix it all for her. She was still going to have her boss’s husband’s baby. Awkward! Her employer still despised her. Unfair!

But for that moment, in the darkness of her situation, she recognized a God who saw her. She saw that He saw her. And that divine acknowledgment was enough for that day.

Hagar must have returned with a new perspective on her unchanged situation. Her employer’s hateful behavior grew worse rather than better. And years later she would kick her out onto the streets, where Hagar and her son would be alone again. This time when they ran out of water, she resigned that death would take her boy. Then the God who saw her once before, saw her again.  This time, He opened her eyes to find a well of water that would save her boy’s life.

There may have been problems in your life that you wished the Lord would just fix. “Get me out of it” or “Remove it” you may have begged. But instead He just said “I see you” and that turned out to be enough.

Consider the Fire Ant

I can’t get fire ants off my mind. Maybe if I write about them, they will leave.

If you haven’t had a chance to meet one, do not add it to your bucket list. Fire ants are different from their cousins.  The pesky black ant crawls across your red checked tablecloth to share your picnic. The tiny sugar ant carouses like a Bourbon Street tourist over your kitchen counter.

The fire ant races up your ankle with an army of fellow soldiers, and all together now, begins warfare.  They bite to hang on while inserting their stinger with a syringe of venom.  Then they do it again and again and again until you strip off your socks and shoes and brush them away.  Except for the ones that are already between your toes or up your pants.  

A few minutes of burning and then days of itching, both like unquenchable fires. Every summer I have to step in a hidden fire ant hill to learn my lesson for the rest of the year.  Last week was my annual reminder. But that is not why I can’t get them out of my mind.

The fire ant picture tormenting me started with the recent repeated flooding in my area. When floods overtake a fire ant colony, the colony members grab hold of each other and interlock legs. Then they begin to float in large ribbons or balls.  They protect their queen and larvae keeping them dry in the center. The rest of the ants rotate taking turns underwater.

Wise ole King Solomon used the ant as a lesson in work ethic.

Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise. Without having any chief, officer, or ruler, she prepares her bread in summer and gathers her food in harvest. [Proverbs 6:6-8]

If Solomon had visited south Texas, he might have used our fire ants as a lesson in how to support each other. Teaching us to take turns treading water while others rest or catch their breath. Then letting others do that for us when we need to come up for air.

Our colony of humanity has had so many floods to fight lately.  Shootings, bombings, refugee drownings, starvation, floods, tornadoes, and earthquakes. When the tragedy of the day is far away, it’s easy to say “how terrible” from the normalcy of our own ant hills. We pause and move on to the peripheral issues and opinions surrounding each tragedy. 

Yet God teaches us to

Bear one another’s burdens. Galations 6:2

Bring good news to the poor. Isaiah 61:1

Bind up the brokenhearted. Isaiah 61:1

Free the captives. Isaiah 61:1

Visit the orphans and widows. James 1:27

Weep with them that weep. Romans 12:15

Lord, teach me to be more like the fire ant. Help me interlock arms with my fellow humans to bear today's burdens. Let me not fall into complacency. Slap me when I look away from the news stories that are too difficult to watch. Prod me when I think there is nothing I can do. Help me to love others as you love them.

The New Oldest Generation

Last weekend I met up with two girl cousins on my mom’s side for our third biennial visit since we turned fifty.  As young kids, we had seen each other almost every summer at Grandma’s house.  Then the occasional visit in our teen years.  And hardly at all for the next three decades. It seems we weren't the only ones to let space creep between us when the matriarch was gone.

The first visit we had a lot of catching up to do.  We discovered common habits and shared quirks. We swapped stories our parents told us about growing up with the aunts and uncle who made us cousins. Two of us had lost the parent that connected us, but still had our other parent.

Two years later on the second visit, we talked about our role reversals. We each had responsibility for some level of care for our remaining parent.

The third visit last weekend was different. Since the last time we had gathered, we had each lost our last parent.  Why did that make things so different?  Because we are now them.  We are no longer the middle generation but the oldest generation.  We can no longer go to them for memories and advice.  Others come to us for those things now.

That feels a little strange – it’s another new normal, which does not yet feel normal. Some days it feels like holes carved out of our family. And other days it feels like everything is whole, exactly as it’s supposed to be now.

On either day, I am confident in He who sustains me as I walk out life as the oldest generation.  It is the same one who Isaiah spoke of.

Even to your old age and gray hairs
    I am he, I am he who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you;
    I will sustain you and I will rescue you. [Isaiah 46:4]

My parents made me, sustained and carried me for a time and sometimes had to rescue me. But my heavenly Father has assumed that role forever. Because He has, I can gray in restful peace that He will continue to carry me, this new oldest generation.

The Next New Normal

Today the next new normal begins. It is the first day of my husband’s retirement, arriving a year after mine. We have agreed to pace ourselves.  We will unwind from our working lives before we dive into more serious leisure.  

We have shared expectations. How do we strike the balance of togetherness and space for our separate interests? I’m sure we’ll get it wrong some days, but today was a good practice run.  I felt a little like a kid with a new neighbor moving in next door.  Should I ask him to come out and play?  Or should I let him get settled first?  I did not have to choose.  He challenged me to a card game at the kitchen table and then we both went back to our offices. 

The first completed todo was symbolic of the new start.  We rearranged the clothes in his closet.  We moved dress shirts and sport coats to the back and casual attire to the front. When I retired, I shifted my closet to Project 333.  That’s the minimalist fashion challenge that invites you to dress with 33 items or less for 3 months. Every three months, I choose 33 different garments and it almost feels like I went shopping.

Changing wardrobes. Changing schedules. Changing priorities.

This change is exciting.  But all change brings unknowns.  And unknowns bring anxiety. When life brings the uncertainty of a new beginning, we know one thing will remain the same.

…his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; [Lamentations 3:22-23]

Unchanging mercies.  They will be fresh every morning.  A new normal today.  A new mercy tomorrow.  Thank you, Lord, for the sameness of your daily mercies in the newness of our changes.