I wanna be like mike

A number of times this past week, my brother (in-law) has come to mind. I've written this to him, but like any good little sister, I tend to brag about this kid a lot. For those of you that might be coming to the party a little late, Mike basically joined our family when I was in eighth grade; at least that's when he started dating my sister. Which is why when I refer to him, I say brother; because there's nothing the legality of his marriage to my sister gave me that I didn't already have. 

Today, while skimming through Instagram, a comment on a photo quoted the ever annoying song from the Disney ride "carousel of progress". As you know, our family visits Disney quite often and on one such trip, myself and the Gordons found ourselves trapped in said ride. The song kept playing but the seats never moved. It was a running joke the rest of the trip, and subsequently any time we end up in tomorrowland. Why does any of that matter? It's one of this times that I can look at and know that mike isn't just a guy I'm stuck seeing for the rest of my life because he married my sister. This is a guy that I laugh with, I share jokes with; he's my friend. On our vacation last summer, he and I spent some time jumping waves out in the ocean while the rest of the family sunbathed. He brought me to tears as he shared how he saw Christ in me and how faithful I was. Because he's the kind of guy who's opinion matters. Because those aren't words he throws around lightly. Because when a friend speaks life into you, you take notice. 

Earlier this week, I read the article in "Relationships", Young Life's magazine, about Aaron Rogers. I read with tear filled eyes (catch the pattern yet?) as he talked about his leader and his leader talked about him. For those that don't know, Mike is the athletic trainer at an all boys high school in Cincinnati. Professionally, he's amazing. He speaks at seminars, has college interns, has a side gig with a professional sporting team. And yet, I bet if you asked him, he would say the best part of what he does is the relationships he gets the opportunity to build with high school guys. Now some of these kids are super weird, and some go on to play in the NFL (he's got two before tonight's draft). And I know that mike loves them all (even when it makes him pull his hair out). I don't actually know any of the guys personally (because if we are honest, that would be weird), but the words Aaron spoke in that article about how well loved he was; those words were familiar. You see, I was friends with a group of younger guys in high school that were so well loved and challenged by their leader. His name, Mike Gordon. They still crowd into his living room every so often to catch up with him, all these years later. 

As I was thinking about our vacation last summer, I couldn't help but be reminded of the joy I get watching him love my sister well. Most of you probably know, but due to her MS, Sara doesn't have the best eye sight. When we were on the beach for vacation, or laying poolside, if you had looked over, you'd have found mike reading. Aloud. To his wife. Myself, my mom, and the Gordons were playing in the ocean last summer and little schools of bright silver fish would swirl around us. They were too small and too quick and Sara couldn't ever see them. So the next school that swam by, Mike "herded" with his hands; slapping the water to influence their direction. He would move around Sara so that the fish would swim all around her, so that she could share in this beautiful sight.  Soon we all became fish herders; we probably looked like fools, but loving fools for sure. 

I know I'm beyond blessed because of this man. He's the second coolest man I know (after pops of course). So if this seemed a bit gooshy or off topic, I challenge you to spend time with this dude and not want to brag about him. He never would, despite all that he could brag about; that's just not the Mike I know. Instead, he will spend the time that most would spend boosting themselves up, boosting you up. Whenever I FaceTime with Sara, he always pops into the picture at the end. To say hey, to tell funny stories, and to ask what he can be praying for. Because he's the best big brother a girl could ever ask for. And on top if that, the best husband a girl could wish for her sister. 

 

Grace

We are a broken, fallen people. I can lump us together because I know that's just the state of the world. I can verify that quite readily about myself. This week was rough. Not quite sure why; I could list things but they would just feel like excuses. I was grumpy and tired and insecure. Lets just wrap it up as a tough few days. But luckily, The Lord is still molding me to look like his son, so this week he  pushed discipline. As in, disciplines I could learn to be focused on him.

There were great moments of success. When I'd close the door to the laundry room and listen to BT talk about the great results from beans and rice week. In that moment, I could still the anxious thoughts. I didn't hear the planner inside my head ticking. It was just the word of The Lord being preached and his mission being applauded. When I was counting (every single knife) for inventory, and my mind started to wonder and distract me, I'd listen to last Wednesday or worship music and I could just sit at his feet.

Now, in this same week, there was failure. Times when I was so wrapped up in frustration or anxiety that Christ was far from my thoughts. Instead I would fold towels or count spoons while fuming over some huge issue (which was really nothing). My god, however, is full of grace. And one of the things I love most is how quiet and gentle his grace is with me. Ill be in the midst of too many thoughts and its as if he just whispers, "it's my turn now. Let that all go". And he quietly holds out his hands; patiently waiting for me to let go and hand it all over. Because whether I am a success or a failure at the discipline of keeping my focus on him, he is gracious. Because that's what grace does. No matter how often or how deeply I fail. It's the unfair nature of grace that continues to astound and humble me. He should've stopped giving me grace a long time ago. I've been rebellious for far too long. And yet each time, as my heart wars over trivial matters, he waits. Patiently. Hoping I'll accept the grace he so longs to give me.

What an amazing God we serve.