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You are here: Home / Sacred Connections / Why Scraping Your Life’s Windshield Affects Your View of the Road

Why Scraping Your Life’s Windshield Affects Your View of the Road

February 15, 2017 by Stephanie Leave a Comment

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Every January, my husband and I ask each other the same question: “Why do we live here?”

The air stings. Grey skies hover without a slight peek at the sun.  The trees bare their nakedness. Sometimes snow; despite it’s nuisance as it mounts, adds a texture of beauty to this somewhat drab palette. This is Winter in the midwest; Chicago to be specific.

Several years ago, my husband worked temporarily in San Diego. On a weekend whim, I flew out to visit. You can eat outside in January? Who Knew? And the scenery…..hello ocean and hills!
Though we considered the prospect of God perhaps moving us out there (ok wishing), it was apparent that Chicago is our home.

Scraping the ice off the windshield after the night temperatures have plunged below zero is not my favorite activity. It requires early preparation in the midst of a hectic school morning routine. Even with the defroster at work, the ice hardens and resists the effort of my chilled to the bone fingers.

In my rush and frustration, the temptation to simply scrape off enough ice to provide a small “window” of visibility seduces me. Yet despite the increasing windchill whipping my face, I know that taking the shortcut increases my chances of an accident. If the back window is not clear, I cannot see what’s approaching behind me. Despite my kids thinking that I do indeed possess eyes in the back of my head, it’s simply not true. If my rear vision is incomplete, my abilities to prevent certain collisions is impaired. If the side windows are still frosty, I may not see the car next to me as I attempt to change lanes. And even a small circle of transparency in the front windshield does not allow me to gauge the elements of all that lie in front of me.
How similar I find the act of scraping a windshield to approaching sinful areas of my life.

What is blocking your view? 
Fear? At times, it floods the senses; resulting in anxiety as we take in the implications of the journey ahead. The heartbeat escalates, eyes grow big, and hands quiver. Is God really big enough to keep us on track despite detours, pot holes?

Pride? The ever seducing voice in our head lulls us into a false reality. Our wisdom, though faulty and biased to self, rules the world. We know better. Especially when time constraints beckon. But as the sun bears it’s light onto the foggy windshield, we are blinded.  As navigation continues, we find ourselves suddenly braking to prevent colliding with a car which was hidden by the glare. Why am I afraid to “trust in the Lord with all my heart? (prov. 3:5)”

Discouragement? Perhaps staggering to the car, while feeling the sting of the air seems like the best you can do. Scraping off the windshield? The task seems too daunting. Confronting the dawn of a new day while deceitful voices whisper words devoid of hope keep us from preparing early. The defroster’s warmth cannot melt the iciness of the morning’s frost quickly. What thoughts can I surrender to God so that the warmth of His light thaws the frost surrounding it?

How are you enlarging your “window” of visibility? Little chisels at a time or engaging in the more arduous process of scraping the covering all at once?

Sin, when not scraped off immediately, becomes a hardened base upon which more layers mount. The longer it sits, the more overwhelming the task becomes. The temptation, then, becomes avoiding the removal. Little chisels may provide brief glimpses of the road in front but we find ourselves impaired by the lack of visibility.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us”

Or, In this case, “scrape off” everything that hinders.

Fear, pride, discouragement……….Satan wants nothing more than to block our view of the light going before us as we travel. With nothing impeding the view, we can aim clearly toward the destination.

What is hindering yours?

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Filed Under: Sacred Connections Tagged With: accident, car, cold, deceit, defrost, discouragement, fear.pride, frost, God, heart, icy, melt, road, Satan, sin, snow, temptation, voices, warmth, windshield

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When my first child was born 20 plus years ago, I envisioned taking just a few years off from my role as Pastor of Youth and Family. While that didn’t exactly unfold as expected, God used my gifts and skills in other ways. Read More…

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s2thomp

Recently, I retraced the steps of my childhood. Ho Recently, I retraced the steps of my childhood. However, walking the territory with my young adult children by my side became a whole new experience. Something profound happens when your kids see, taste, and feel the places that shape your life.

This wasn’t the first time, we ventured into the town of my paternal roots When my children were young, we occassionally drove through the town. We drove past relative’s homes and I pointed out favorite destination spots. However, the questions grew deeper and the curiosity expanded as they grew older. Connections to itheir story have been formed.

We enjoyed stomping around the nostalgic grounds together while recognizing how our family’s story fits into a bigger one. I whirled around with my kids on the same carnival ride seats that I once shared with my parents and siblings. We munched on the same tasty comfort food that I delighted in as a child. And watched, with wonder, the twinkly lights of a magical place, lighting up a dusky hot summer night. We walked in the footsteps of those in their personal narrative.

The deeper thoughts and questions came as we winded through the small town, retracing the paths of my youth. However, this time around, their ears longed to know more. How is this person related? Who was the relative that was known for…..? The visual unfolding of a story gives you a context for understanding what has shaped you. It is both formative and yet allows for questions and discerning what you will do with it. What will you embrace and how will you respond to it’s influences?

These are the moments that I do not want to take for granted. Navigating our story together is a gift.

#familystories #parentingyoungadults
#whoami #ancestorsspeak
#familyroots #stephaniejthompson
#Redbudwriters
"Sometimes Jesus’s interruptions mean a reorient "Sometimes Jesus’s interruptions mean a reorienting with our whole being. Surrendering vocational plans and expectations. Using our finances,time and talents in ways that take us out of our comfort zones. Letting go of previously held assumptions about who Jesus is."

#Redbudwriters #Jesusinterrupts #Luke5 #followingjesus #discipleship
I love my shoes. My eyes initially spotted them i I love my shoes.

My eyes initially spotted them in an advertisement in my social media feed. Truthfully, it wasn’t completely a coinicidence that they showed up in the midst of my scrolling. My buying habits are not secretive to the bots monitoring my digital life. I can’t hide from the reminders of my sketchers sandals shoe fascination. Both the ads and my daughter’s laughing comments make me confront my guilty pleasure.

This pair intrigued me. Both function and style appealed to me. Specifically, the ancient sparkly design made me think of a different time and civilation. That may sound silly. However, I am always on a quest to recognize my identity within the contexts of those who came before me and those who live different narratives from myself. In a sense, the sandals are a visible reminder to keep walking into those paths.

Most recently, they waded into the Caribbean Ocean, paddled my body through Cenotes in Mexico, and walked the sacred ground of encounters with people who don’t live in my native country. My sandals witnessed to my wonder at new smells, the beauty of creation and attempts to engage with human companions in ways that don’t require words.

Before walking into very different places across the globe, I encountered new narratives in familiar territory. Some of them included my own. My sandals comforted my feet as I walked into doctor’s offices, my insides quivering at updates from a yearlong of health battles. They accompanied me to conversations, some silly and others more serious with my young adult children.

And somewhere, in the midst of moving around doing seemingly mundane activities, I connected with people I never met. We exchanged laughs, shared insights, and simply acknowledged presence with an “excuse me” as we passed in aisles.

Someday, my sparkly shoes will wear out. I will be sad because of the sacred places I have tread with them adorning my feet. The stories they hold are way more fascinating than their decoration. So when they wear out, I can cling to the pictures and be reminded of the places I have seen the face of God as I navigate my days. 

#Redbudwriters #sacredplaces #imagodei #humanitymatters #ifshoescouldtalk
I am slowly emerging from under my broom tree. Tr I am slowly emerging from under my broom tree.

Truthfully, they don’t grow in the middle of suburban Illinois so the broom trees in my yard resemble Oak trees. However, metaphorically speaking, they served the same purpose for me: a place to crash in exhaustion from the overwhelming emotions pouring through my veins.

I found myself resonating with Elijah. (1 Kings 18) He felt the sting of brokenness. A fracture grew in his community, a group that shared a common identity. They were God’s people. That doesn’t equate to blind unity. But it meant commitment to working out together what that looked like in earthly life. Because this is where they lived. Not in a “spiritual place.” A physical place where God descended and intended to restore all things to the “very good” he declared.

But rather than place themselves in the messy human experience of listening and humility, they lunged toward pride and power. Community ripped apart. Relationships became defined by a zest for communal powers, control, and oppression-including those in their own community. They detoured from their purpose and identity. And Elijah wanted to escape.

So last week I resonated with his story. Sometimes the noise is too much. We are already thirsty from living in a world that is aching toward complete satiation with the life giving resources God is seeking to offer us. But when we are parched, the trust wanes. And like Elijah, I needed to seek refuge in something other than humanity. So I found refuge in other life giving members of creation. Because they remind me that God is still working and breathing life into a broken world.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist, professor, and member of the Potowami Nation, writes, “In some Native languages, the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.”

I am thankful for the comfort of the trees who have always beckoned us to their presence. We just needed to recognize their sacred purpose. God meets us there.

#Redbudwriters #stephaniejthompson #godspeaks #treesspeak #elijah #godmeetsuswhereweare #godrestores
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s2thomp

Recently, I retraced the steps of my childhood. Ho Recently, I retraced the steps of my childhood. However, walking the territory with my young adult children by my side became a whole new experience. Something profound happens when your kids see, taste, and feel the places that shape your life.

This wasn’t the first time, we ventured into the town of my paternal roots When my children were young, we occassionally drove through the town. We drove past relative’s homes and I pointed out favorite destination spots. However, the questions grew deeper and the curiosity expanded as they grew older. Connections to itheir story have been formed.

We enjoyed stomping around the nostalgic grounds together while recognizing how our family’s story fits into a bigger one. I whirled around with my kids on the same carnival ride seats that I once shared with my parents and siblings. We munched on the same tasty comfort food that I delighted in as a child. And watched, with wonder, the twinkly lights of a magical place, lighting up a dusky hot summer night. We walked in the footsteps of those in their personal narrative.

The deeper thoughts and questions came as we winded through the small town, retracing the paths of my youth. However, this time around, their ears longed to know more. How is this person related? Who was the relative that was known for…..? The visual unfolding of a story gives you a context for understanding what has shaped you. It is both formative and yet allows for questions and discerning what you will do with it. What will you embrace and how will you respond to it’s influences?

These are the moments that I do not want to take for granted. Navigating our story together is a gift.

#familystories #parentingyoungadults
#whoami #ancestorsspeak
#familyroots #stephaniejthompson
#Redbudwriters
"Sometimes Jesus’s interruptions mean a reorient "Sometimes Jesus’s interruptions mean a reorienting with our whole being. Surrendering vocational plans and expectations. Using our finances,time and talents in ways that take us out of our comfort zones. Letting go of previously held assumptions about who Jesus is."

#Redbudwriters #Jesusinterrupts #Luke5 #followingjesus #discipleship
I love my shoes. My eyes initially spotted them i I love my shoes.

My eyes initially spotted them in an advertisement in my social media feed. Truthfully, it wasn’t completely a coinicidence that they showed up in the midst of my scrolling. My buying habits are not secretive to the bots monitoring my digital life. I can’t hide from the reminders of my sketchers sandals shoe fascination. Both the ads and my daughter’s laughing comments make me confront my guilty pleasure.

This pair intrigued me. Both function and style appealed to me. Specifically, the ancient sparkly design made me think of a different time and civilation. That may sound silly. However, I am always on a quest to recognize my identity within the contexts of those who came before me and those who live different narratives from myself. In a sense, the sandals are a visible reminder to keep walking into those paths.

Most recently, they waded into the Caribbean Ocean, paddled my body through Cenotes in Mexico, and walked the sacred ground of encounters with people who don’t live in my native country. My sandals witnessed to my wonder at new smells, the beauty of creation and attempts to engage with human companions in ways that don’t require words.

Before walking into very different places across the globe, I encountered new narratives in familiar territory. Some of them included my own. My sandals comforted my feet as I walked into doctor’s offices, my insides quivering at updates from a yearlong of health battles. They accompanied me to conversations, some silly and others more serious with my young adult children.

And somewhere, in the midst of moving around doing seemingly mundane activities, I connected with people I never met. We exchanged laughs, shared insights, and simply acknowledged presence with an “excuse me” as we passed in aisles.

Someday, my sparkly shoes will wear out. I will be sad because of the sacred places I have tread with them adorning my feet. The stories they hold are way more fascinating than their decoration. So when they wear out, I can cling to the pictures and be reminded of the places I have seen the face of God as I navigate my days. 

#Redbudwriters #sacredplaces #imagodei #humanitymatters #ifshoescouldtalk
I am slowly emerging from under my broom tree. Tr I am slowly emerging from under my broom tree.

Truthfully, they don’t grow in the middle of suburban Illinois so the broom trees in my yard resemble Oak trees. However, metaphorically speaking, they served the same purpose for me: a place to crash in exhaustion from the overwhelming emotions pouring through my veins.

I found myself resonating with Elijah. (1 Kings 18) He felt the sting of brokenness. A fracture grew in his community, a group that shared a common identity. They were God’s people. That doesn’t equate to blind unity. But it meant commitment to working out together what that looked like in earthly life. Because this is where they lived. Not in a “spiritual place.” A physical place where God descended and intended to restore all things to the “very good” he declared.

But rather than place themselves in the messy human experience of listening and humility, they lunged toward pride and power. Community ripped apart. Relationships became defined by a zest for communal powers, control, and oppression-including those in their own community. They detoured from their purpose and identity. And Elijah wanted to escape.

So last week I resonated with his story. Sometimes the noise is too much. We are already thirsty from living in a world that is aching toward complete satiation with the life giving resources God is seeking to offer us. But when we are parched, the trust wanes. And like Elijah, I needed to seek refuge in something other than humanity. So I found refuge in other life giving members of creation. Because they remind me that God is still working and breathing life into a broken world.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist, professor, and member of the Potowami Nation, writes, “In some Native languages, the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.”

I am thankful for the comfort of the trees who have always beckoned us to their presence. We just needed to recognize their sacred purpose. God meets us there.

#Redbudwriters #stephaniejthompson #godspeaks #treesspeak #elijah #godmeetsuswhereweare #godrestores
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