Doing What is Required

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8 (NIV)

I’ve been working on multiple projects since becoming a widow, including sifting through 44 years worth of accumulated possessions, becoming minimalistic, and creating living spaces within my home that are cozy, practical, and simplistic–and extremely decluttered for the first time in years.

One of the projects that has been on my wish list for some time was creating a master bedroom that is as dust-free as possible (I’m allergic to dust mites). The priority was to remove the worn out, forever-dirty carpet and replace it with more practical porcelain tile. It seemed straightforward. Remove the furniture from the room, remove the carpet, lay the tile, apply the grout, clean the floor, move the furniture back. The tile was installed last Friday; the grout work was done on Saturday. I should be living in my new and improved master bedroom again but, alas, I won’t be for awhile. Because I have standards and reasonable expectations.

Let’s just say that, among other frustrating snafus along the way, including carelessness in what should have been a simple act of moving furniture out of the room, the installer used light gray grout for woodgrain porcelain tile that is a deep golden brown in color. So each tile looks like it has been framed in chalk. He later said, “I just used what they gave me.” In addition, there was a light gray grout haze all over the floor, and he wanted to move my furniture back into the room on top of all of that. I said, “No,” and to come back Monday.

I scrubbed the floor twice to get rid of the haze, which actually accentuated the fact that they had used the wrong color of grout. The installers came back Monday to move the furniture back, but I sent them on their way. They were stunned. I called the manager of the installation company and said my floor had to be fixed before they would be paid. They asked me to send pictures, which I did. They said, “It looks beautiful!” I said, “No, it doesn’t.” I added, “Look, I have all the time in the world for you to get this right.” They will be coming next Wednesday to fix the problem, which they eventually admitted was a mistake. They said, “It will be expensive to fix, but we will absorb the cost.” Yes, indeed!

I mention this stressful episode in my life because it was so extremely non-stop exasperating for several days and I was getting worn down, emotionally and physically. Smack dab in the middle of this came the day marking the first year that I wouldn’t be celebrating a wedding anniversary in 44 years. I was so tired and discouraged and frustrated and asked God, “Why does this have to be so hard? Why now? I’m tired of hard.” And God said, in His still, small voice, “Child, remember who you are and remember where you’ve been.”

Who am I? I’m a child of the King, who is the object of my unswerving faith. He is my Savior and the One who has transformed me over the course of a lifetime from a shy, introverted, quiet, emotionally fragile, tender-hearted, compliant, non-confrontational, wishing-to-be-heard, “sweet thang” into a warrior who is strong, tenacious, relentless, unmovable in my convictions, a seeker of justice, a lover of mercy, and desirous of walking humbly with my God in the midst of all of the battles which God continues to lay before me to shape me, mold me, sanctify me, purify me, and to make me just like Him–and to bring glory to His name.

How did this transformation occur? When did it occur? Upon reflection, it was a gradual, progressive change–especially over the past 20 years of my life–that resulted from working through complex relationships and challenging, excruciatingly painful life events (even before my husband’s stroke and death). The change also developed as my desire for my convictions and my sense of justice to be known and heard outweighed the discomfort, awkwardness and inconvenience of speaking up and making waves–and making a difference, as a result.

One of the most impactful factors in my development was becoming involved in the world of competitive chess–at first, when my children started playing–as a low-level tournament director and, long after that, when I worked my way up to the highest certification level of directing–that of a national tournament director (NTD). It was a rather incognito life on the side, unknown to many, as I lived my dream of being a stay-at-home mother. I went from being a nervous, newbie tournament director who was on pins and needles for fear of making a mistake to, many years later, spearheading an ethics violation investigation that bears my name and which resulted in significant policy changes. I don’t share these things to boast of my achievements but to show how God took a very unassuming, quiet, shy person, and turned her into someone who was strong, bold, confident and outspoken and, above all, pursued justice (while seeking to be merciful) and who wanted to make a difference, all in the name of bringing glory to God.

My determination, boldness and tenacity were at an all-time high after my husband, Bruce, had his stroke and I interacted with the medical and rehabilitation staff day after day for 5 1/2 months. There were some who resented my interference and disrespected me for my presumed lack of medical expertise, but since I knew my husband better than they did (and had a medical background), I was not dissuaded. There were many more who were extremely supportive of my efforts and encouraged me to be as involved and to ask as many questions as I wanted to, and who even sought my opinion on how to best meet my husband’s needs.

I have thought so many times since Bruce’s stroke and death how grateful I am that our roles weren’t reversed, with me having the stroke and Bruce being the caretaker and advocate. I had the medical background; Bruce didn’t. I asked lots of questions and challenged what I was being told, standing firm in what I felt was best for Bruce–giving him every possible chance instead of throwing in the towel, which the medical staff seemed to support early on. Bruce believed that one should leave everything to the experts and not question their decisions. But on a deeper level, he was a conflict avoider; his unspoken mantra was, “Don’t make waves.” If he expressed frustration over a relationship with a co-worker, I would ask him if he had talked with him/her about it. He had not and would not. He hoped things would magically get better by just trying to be nicer. And try, he did. I know this mindset was not unique with him.

One time, during his recovery, there was a problem with one of the staff and I told Bruce that I was going to speak with the charge nurse about it. His response: “Be nice!” Ouch! He viewed confrontation as a dirty word–as being mutually exclusive from kindness and respect. It can be, but it doesn’t have to be. I think Bruce struggled somewhat with my transformation from the beginning of our marriage until the end. I ended up, in some ways, becoming radically different from the person he married. I was comfortable in my ever-developing, tougher, more resilient, but still tender-hearted and empathetic skin. But I had become a wave-maker; I had become much more vocal. Bruce readily admitted that he didn’t like change, in whatever form it took. It was who he was. Had I adhered to Bruce’s way of thinking, I firmly believe his life would have had a different, less fulfilling (to me) outcome, all within the realm of God’s providence, of course. But God….

So, when I was feeling discouraged, frustrated and overwhelmed about dealing with something as relatively mundane as the ins and outs of new flooring, compared to what I have been through, God said to me, “Remember who you are and remember where you’ve been.” Amen! “…He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

Dare to make a difference. Embrace change. What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. It’s never too late.