January, 2007 Razor Blades

January, 2007

Mike has often said if there were a job for me, it would be to be the purchasing agent for the US Army. Maybe it’s part of that beaver personality I’ve mentioned before – planning ahead, organizing, being prepared.

The pinnacle of this came when preparing to go overseas. A missionary-friend of mine told me how her family would keep track of every item they used – from cans of cinnamon to Christmas cards, from toilet paper to teflon pans. They then shopped for four years’ worth of stuff – estimating what sizes their kids would wear and what their 3-year old would like for his 7^th birthday – and packed it into barrels for shipping. (Imagine the poor family with four teenaged daughters and one mom – buying four years’ worth of tampax. How’d you like to go on that shopping trip?) As we prepared to move our family overseas, I decided to do the same in readying for China, only preparing for a two-year jaunt instead.

Since I had been in China before, I knew what was available locally. Some things, like toilet paper, were available, albeit a little rough. We packed just enough Charmin to get us through the “tender transitions”. Rice and noodles were available, but packaged Mac-n-Cheese were sent for the kids’ “special occasions”.

During my first stint in China, my male teammates found their electric razors inadequate due to the unreliable nature of a key component: electricity. So several times they found themselves lying back in a chair at the mercy of a Chinese barber wielding a straight-edge single blade. Now mind you, the Chinese in general are a rather hairless breed. I was frequently stopped in public places where little old ladies would pull the hair on my arms, commenting on the vast quantity – and I don’t have hairy arms! At least, I didn’t think I did. Anyway, said teammates commented on how painful this single edged process was – sort of dragging each whisker out of its pore, one at a time.

With those memories in place, I kept careful track of the blade cartridges Mike and I used during that year before going, bought that amount times two and left for China. Most things I had estimated pretty closely. But upon arrival we found some things had become available during my six-year absence. And with those razors, well, my count was off. Way off.

As many of you know, our stay was cut short after only a year and a half when Mike became ill and, in two days’ time, I had to decide what to do with all of our belongings – leave it behind or pack it to take back to the States. For some bizarre reason, I decided to take those remaining razor blades home. Perhaps I figured the Chinese, being light on extraneous hair, wouldn’t need them. Or maybe it was because they were expensive and I felt obligated to be a good steward. Who knows what my thinking was.

Two years after we had originally left for China, those razor blades should have been used up. But Stateside, Mike preferred an electric razor. So it was left to me to use them up. Many new forms of razors came and went, triple-bladed, quadruple-bladed, with lotion strips, curved handles. I was tempted to abandon ship, but it became a holy mission to use up every blade.

So why am I writing this pointless story? Because today, twelve years after buying that two-year supply, I finally used up the last blade. I get to buy myself a new razor for my shower. And I am giddy that I accomplished this stupid goal.

Sheer willpower is useful in attaining many goals in life. But when it comes to the spiritual things, Pit Bull determination will only get you so far. Daily Bible reading and prayer are great things to incorporate in one’s life. But to leave those things in the arena of the will leads to a very dry spiritual life. Somehow, it needs to move from the “ought to’s” to the “want to’s”.

An example of this is one of the goals I’d still love to reach – to be a prayer warrior like my Grandma Cook. My desire is to have my prayer life like my breathing – something that I can’t live without. So the last time I visited Grandma, I asked her how to take prayer from a discipline to a pleasure. I know there are days when my Grandma uses sheer determination to pray but most of the time it seems as natural to her as…, well, as breathing.

She told me of how the difficulties of life forced her to pray. The Great Depression, a handicapped son, and a husband with a broken back and unable to work all drove her to her knees. And, if truth be told, she never got off of them again. She has prayed her entire family through a lot of trials. In fact, she has prayed for every one of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren every day of their lives, by name. (How’s that for a legacy?)

Looking in my Grandma’s beautiful eyes, I know that it wasn’t just the trials that forced her to pray. Maybe they helped to get her started. But I think it is because during those trials and tribulations, my Grandma fell in love. She loves Jesus, loves Him so much she can’t not pray. Her relationship with her Lord is so real, so tangible. When I am with her, it makes every pore of my body cry out to be closer to God.

Sure, I know God. And I have a good relationship with my Jesus. But I’m no where close to Grandma Cook. To move one’s relationship with God from discipline to desire takes time – time spent in reading His word, meditating, communing. Time spent praying and listening to Him. Time spent in worship. It starts with discipline. It ends with devotion. Oh! That I could be as diligent in pursuing my relationship with God as I am in using up a supply of dumb old razor blades.

Like a rock,

Amy Louise
Amy Shane
The Submissive Despot