Obstacles to Grace

 I’ve been thinking a lot about obstacles to grace recently, and I’ve realized something: I am my own biggest obstacle to grace.

 

Growing up and all through my twenties, I didn’t like myself very much. I believed that nothing I did was ever good enough, and I was filled with a deep sense of shame over that constant feeling of missing the mark—over the constant dread that I, myself, was bad.

 

Outwardly, I excelled. Inwardly, I believed that I MUST excel lest I lose love and friendship. Outwardly, I gave amazing gifts and went out of my way to show up and help fix those around me. Inwardly, I believed that I MUST give amazing gifts and go out of my way to show up and help fix those around me lest, again, I lose love and friendship.

 

I grew up hearing about God. I grew up knowing that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that whosoever believed in him should not perish but have eternal life.” I grew up hearing that grace and salvation were a gift—that nothing we could ever do could earn what had already been given. And yet somewhere along the way, there was a major disconnect between the grace that God gives through Jesus Christ and the grace that I could give to myself—or that others could give to me. 

 

It took my first cut-off friendship to begin to understand grace…and even then, I didn’t fully grasp the depth of it. Can we ever fully grasp of the depth of it?

 

To put it simply: I didn’t understand boundaries until I began counseling at age 29. I didn’t understand that I couldn’t “fix” other people and I didn’t understand that not everyone wants depth and intensity in friendship all the time. So when I was cut-off—when a dear friend told me that she no longer wanted to see me, hear from me, or talk to me again—I was devastated. My entire sense of self went awry and I didn’t know how to function. I had failed. And that failure had caused one of my biggest fears to come true—losing love and friendship.

 

And yet. I began to learn about grace. I began to learn that true love and friendship don’t come from performance—they aren’t bought—they aren’t earned—they aren’t forced—they have boundaries—they are given—and they must be received—just like the love of Christ.

 

I have grown leaps and bounds since age 29. I still have moments when I don’t like myself very much—don’t we all?—but for the most part, I have accepted my quirks and idiosyncrasies. I have accepted that nothing I do will ever be good enough for everyone but that as long as I’m doing my best, I am okay. And that deep sense of shame that I carried for so long is now only a quiet whisper. It tries to yell at me sometimes—to tell me that I am bad—but God’s gentle but strong whisper of unconditional love is much louder and stronger.

 

Somewhere along the way, I made the connection between the grace God gives through Jesus Christ and the grace that I can give to myself—and that others can give to me.

 

And I am so very glad.

Interview with Mom

 Today is my mom’s 79^th birthday. Here is her birthday interview 🙂.

 

What is your very first memory? It’s hard to distinguish actual memories from stories I’ve heard and pictures I’ve seen. I don’t know if I really remember them or if I only know of them. But I think one of my first memory memories was when I was about 4 years old and we lived in Savanna. Mother and Daddy had taken me to nursery school one morning in a taxi cab—we didn’t have a car—and there had been a hurricane the night before—but why Mother was going to work, I have no idea—but the nursery school was closed, so I had to go to work with mother. I remember that taxi ride—there were trees down and stuff.

 

What is one of your favorite childhood memories? Listening for the ice cream man. In long ago memories, the ice cream man pushed a little cart around in the street and you could go out and buy popsicles and stuff. Then later it became a truck.

 

What is one of your most meaningful Bible verses or passages?

*Thinks for a long time.*

*Mom: “My problem is that I can’t remember what they are or where they are without looking them up.”

*Dad, slightly exasperated, slightly joking: “Sandra, this is pitiful. You don’t have a life verse?!”

*Mom: “I’ve never had a life verse.”

*Dad: “Honey, you could just say John 3:16.”

*Mom: “Danny, this is not your interview!”

*Mom: “Hold on just a second. Let me go get something.”

*Returns with her Bible and journal.*

*Mom: Okay. The other night, I was reading and I came to 2 Corinthians 8:10. It said: “The best thing you could do right now is to finish what you started last year.” I took that as a prophecy that I needed to get busy and do my CD. And I like the Joshua 1:9 verse: Do not be afraid. Do not be discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you. And did you know that in The Message, it says to ‘play his praise on a grand piano?’ But only in the Message. You see, I know a lot of meaningful verses, I just don’t know them off the top of my head.”

 

What is your greatest accomplishment? Living with your dad for 58 years (as Dad does the Blake Shelton point to himself.)

 

What were the most significant events of your 79^th year?

*Me: “But you’re turning 79.”

*Mom: “Right. I’ve just finished my 79^th year. On my birthday, I’ll be starting my 80^th year. People don’t understand that. And sometimes I want to correct them. It’s a mathematical thing.”

*Me: “Gotcha.”

*Mom: “But anyway…the things that stand out from my 79^th year are Mother and Aunt Rene dying on consecutive days; Henry’s buzzer-beater to win the Friendship-Apex rivalry game; Amelia’s Passage Portfolio Conference to finish 8^th grade; the times that the Deaton Dozen haven spent together; and Henry’s high school graduation.

 

What is your favorite pasta shape? Alphabet macaroni.

 

What do you remember about the Civil Rights Movement? I don’t really have memories of the Civil Rights movement as a movement. I guess maybe I knew it was going on, but it only affected me when the school where I was teaching was integrated either in 65/66 or 66/67. We got one African American student and one African American teacher. Total integration took a long time.

 

What do you remember most about your wedding? Well. I remember getting my hair done at a beauty shop in Dunn, and although they tried, the ladies didn’t know how to fix my hair and I had to redo it when I got back to the motel. And then when we were getting in the car on the way to the church, I had a nosebleed. I don’t know if I already had my dress on or not, but I remember that. I don’t remember much about the wedding itself. We did have the entire Campbell Touring Choir to sing, but I didn’t hear them. And we don’t have a recording. In that day, reception food consisted simply of wedding cake, nuts, mints, and punch—not the elaborate spreads and meals of today. We had ordered a beautiful cake, but it was way too small for the number of guests we had, and I am told that my aunts had to slide it super thin to serve all the guests. When we left the church, we drove Danny’s parent’s car to get our car which had been left at the motel where our families were staying. We had a Volkswagen Bug, and when we got to the motel, we found it stuffed full of newspapers. We couldn’t even get into the car! The ironic thing is that Danny had helped his roommates save the newspapers!  

 

What is your current advice to younger generations? My current advice to younger generations is to value the people in your life and to place priority on spending time with people, particularly of older generations, and learning from them. Get off your screens and talk to people. Time is the best gift you can give another person. 

Suffering and Forgiveness

 I have two quotes on my wall that say:

 

“We are loyal to our suffering.”

 

“Forgiveness is giving up hope for a better past.”

 

I’m not 100% sure, but I think they are words from Joe the Counselor. Very profound. Yet very difficult to swallow.

 

As I’ve wrestled with these statements, I’ve come to think of them like this:

 

Sometimes we become so used to our suffering that we hold on to it because we don’t know what to do without it. That grudge? That wronged sense of self? That unhealthy view of self? That unhealthy habit? We may know that something is eating up our time, energy, and well-being but not know how to live without it. And thus, we are loyal to our suffering.

 

And forgiveness. Well. Forgiveness is not easy. Letting go of the emotional pull of a situation is a process that sometimes takes a lifetime. Forgiveness is a journey. It is a process. It is two steps forward and one step backward. Forgiveness is coming to yourself and setting your face forward. Forgiveness is the moment we give up hope for a better past.

 

What about you? What do these statements mean to you?

 

Dear God: Help our loyalty to be to you, to Love, to the freedom found in love, to the grace found in the suffering that you endured in your life and death on the cross. And help us, God, to take steps to forgive—to not act in retribution, but to renounce and rebuke evil, to brush the dust from our sandals, and to set our face forward. Help us to let go of what could have been and to live forward into what can be. With you, oh Spirit God, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are possible. Thank you. And thank you for the hope of a better future. Amen. 

Orange Fish

 A few months ago, a coworker gave me a puzzle to complete with my mom. It was a puzzle of Matisse’s “The Gold Fish.” On Monday night, I hung the framed puzzle on my wall. It looks really nice with the rest of my collection.

 

“But why do you collect orange fish?” you might ask. Well…Here’s the story:

 

Back up 22 years to the summer of 2000.

 

I was serving as the pre-camp staff worship leader at camp.

 

Wal-mart was promoting a fish theme for their summer picnic supplies.

 

For the final service of the week, I planned a special worship service that involved serving communion.

 

My plan was that I would serve the Camp Director, Office Staff, and Unit Leaders, the latter of whom would then serve the counselors and assistant counselors in their unit.

 

I needed something to serve the communion elements from, and I liked the fish cutting boards that Wal-mart was selling, so I bought cutting boards for the bread, ice cream bowls for the juice, and matching fish candles for ambiance.

 

At the end of the night, after a particularly meaningful worship experience, I gave each Unit Leader her cutting board, ice cream bowl, and candle.

 

I kept the other set for myself.

 

It was my favorite color.

 

My favorite color was orange.

 

Sometime after that experience, someone asked me what I collected.

 

I didn’t really collect anything at the time, but I remembered that night at camp, and I thought of that orange fish cutting board, and so I said, “Orange fish.”

 

I figured that orange fish were safe. I’d never really seen orange fish, so I wasn’t worried that my collection would grow.

 

I was wrong.

 

Partly because of Nemo, and partly because an orange fish collection is just unique enough to pique people’s interest, my collection is now very large, and it includes orange fish from around the world.

 

I have one curio cabinet of orange fish trinkets, one ornament holder of orange fish ornaments, and all four walls of the office covered in orange fish art.

 

I imagine that my collection is worth very little to anyone else in the world, but to me, it’s 22 years of people thinking of me.

 

And for that—and a spreadsheet that helps me remember where each fish came from—a spreadsheet that now includes a new piece of orange fish art—I am grateful.

 

What about you? What do you collect? And what’s the story of your collection? I’d love to hear.

Bullet

 October 13, 2008:

 

I have a new goal in life: to get my neighbor's dog to let me pet him. He's a little yippy dog that used to annoy me. All he would do is bark incessantly and pee on my car tires. But in watching my dad befriend him, and in learning the dog's story, I have changed my opinion of him. The dog, Bullet, was likely abused or neglected by his previous owner. My neighbor found him and brought him home. Knowing this, I have sympathy for the little guy. So I’m claiming it: Bullet will like me one day! He’s already the background on my phone.

 

December 30, 2010:

 

Bullet Williams Deaton is laying on a towel on the couch beside me.  Since returning home from a few days in Florida, I have been scratched by Bullet's long paws as my attention has been demanded, my hands and arms have been licked in affection, and my cheek has been kissed.  I have played tug of war with Bullet and his favorite toy and I have played catch with Bullet's Build-A-Bear--both of which I gave him.  I have spent countless dollars on dog treats and dog toys, not because I am still trying to win Bullet’s affection but because I have already won it and he has won mine.  Bullet makes me itch, sheds terribly, and stinks, but I love him.  And he loves me.  And watching his devotion to my dad is one of the cutest things I have ever seen.  My dad is big man; Bullet is a little dog.  Watching Bullet follow my dad around the house and hearing my dad talk to the little guy truly warms my heart.

 

June 20, 2022:

 

Bullet is an old man now. From my notes, we know that he’s at least 14, but we project that he’s closer to 16, and possibly older than that. Bullet’s gone from 22 pounds at his height of plump happiness to just over 16 pounds. He must eat a special diet that’s not hard on his kidneys, but he still loves food!

 

Bullet can’t see or hear. Sometimes, he has trouble standing and walking. He uses a ramp to get on and off the porch at his house and now eats outside at our house because he can no longer get up and down the steps. His days of sleeping on couches and papasan chairs are over, and his days of spending long hours in the house are gone. Bullet can no longer control his bowels or bladder.

 

And yet Bullet is still so very loved. His parents, Mack and Olga, take care of him day in and day out, lovingly tending to all of his needs. And my dad, his seemingly all-time favorite person, still goes to visit him every afternoon at 4, walking him a little bit, talking to him, and feeding him the food that brings him some of the last bit of pleasure that he has. As for me, I don’t see Bullet very much anymore. Sometimes I wish that he would come into the house and jump up on the couch with me, but I know that will never happen again. It makes me sad. And yet…I know that he has lived a good, long life.

 

I don’t know how much longer Bullet will be with us, but for as long as we have him, we will keep on loving him because he deserves to be loved.

 

May we all hold our animals dear…but may we hold our loved ones dearer…for we each, like Bullet, deserve to be loved.

 

Amen. 

File of Encouragement

 Ever since I started teaching, I’ve kept a file of encouragement. As I receive pictures, cards, and words, I file them away, knowing that I will look at them again someday and smile. Last week was that someday, and not only did I smile, but I also shed a few tears as I remembered the times and people who have made an impact on my life.

 

I will admit that I don’t remember all of the students who have drawn me pictures over the years. I will admit that I must go through and cull the file of encouragement ever so often lest it grow out of control in my file drawer. I will admit that some things that once meant a lot to me have faded in importance with time. And yet, some students and teachers and pictures and memories remain just as poignant now as they were many years ago.

 

Nicholas, a special-needs student who my parents and I adopted one Christmas, who wrote something simple for the schoolwide writing challenge every week, whose Mother died and whose home I went to visit and saw his AB honor roll certificate proudly displayed on his wall.

 

Terrence, an African-American boy whose forehead I kissed every day, who brought in $.32 for a penny challenge, in the hopes that he would become the school king, and had the sweetest, most hopeful look on his face.

 

Lindsey and Jesse James, whose mother came to school every day with the cutest little dog named Zoe, whose family had suffered a tragedy when the kids’ big brother died of a brain tumor when they were almost too young to know him.

 

The staff at Johnsonville, who bonded through trauma and created a sense of community and belonging that can never be re-created, who were some of the best teachers I have ever known but who did not receive the credit due them because of a system much too broken for repair.

 

Jaquese, undoubtedly the cutest kid I have ever taught, who endeared a place in my heart my very first year of teaching and has never lost that place since.

 

Friends: Teaching is not for the faint of heart. It is a tough career that needs files of encouragement and summers to recuperate. Yet, at its core, teaching is the most rewarding career that one can imagine.

 

In short, teaching is a career born of love.

G-mama's 100th Birthday

 Today would have been G-mama’s 100^th Birthday.

She died four months and one day short of reaching this milestone.

Not to worry, though:

She was more than ready to go.

Last year, when we sang her “Happy Birthday,”

She added a little tag-line that said,
“And please no more.”

 

Many of you got to know G-mama through her

“Interviews with G-mama”

That we started a couple of years ago.

 

During the interview on her 99^th Birthday,

G-mama said that the biggest change she’d seen in her 99 years was

“Computers and all that electrical stuff.

Like being able to talk to people.

Talking pictures and words.

It’s amazing.”

Right up until she died, she was amazed technology.

When she couldn’t be with her family—

Especially during Covid—

Family was able to be with her—

Through talking pictures and words.

 

G-mama also gave some advice during that last birthday interview:

“The golden rule will always be the best.

Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.

And trust in the Lord with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength.”

 

Today, as I reflect on G-mama’s life,

I think that we can be challenged by her words even still.

 

One. As frustrating and damaging as technology can be,

It really is amazing to have talking pictures and words.

We can instantly communicate with people across the globe!

That luxury is truly mind-boggling,

And yet we take it for granted.

So today,

Will you join in me pausing to give thanks for the ways technology can hold us together and

Will you pray with me that technology will be used to advance humanity rather than destroy it?

 

And two. Living the golden rule is hard.

And trusting in God is hard, too,

Especially in a time when it’s hard to know what trust even means.

And yet…

Trusting God to show us how to treat others and then

Treating others with dignity, respect, boundaries, and love is exactly what we need to be doing.

So today,

Will you join me in praying for the strength and courage needed to live out of trust in God and deep love for both self and humanity?

Will you join me in praying for the discernment to know how to balance that love of self with love of humanity, all while being guided by the ultimate love of God?

 

Today, I am thankful for G-mama’s 99 and a half years of life and

For the stories, wisdom, and challenges she left us through her interviews.

 

I hope you are thankful, too.

They're Just Kids

 Sometimes I forget they’re just kids—

Especially the older ones.

They grow so quickly—

Sometimes taller than me.

They know so much about the world—

They act so tough.

So sometimes I forget they still like to do

The Freeze Dance or

The silly songs from Kindergarten or

Parachute games.

 

I was tasked with covering the parachute station at Field Day.

Oddly enough, I was nervous about the coverage.

I was worried about my voice being strong enough to carry,

I was worried that the parachute wouldn’t be big enough to host two classes of students at a time,

I was worried that students would get bored with the station—

Especially the older ones.

 

And I was wrong.

 

My voice held up.

Students crammed themselves around the edge of the parachute.

And everyone had a great time—

Awed by the lovely site of the parachute mushrooming in the air,

Squealing in delight as they ran under the parachute in a game of trainwreck.

 

In a world inundated by scary information.

In a world where it’s easy not to feel safe.

In a world forcing our children to grow up too quickly.

In a world that feels like its spinning out of control.

Kids are still kids.

We must remember that.

We must remember all that they don’t know—

All that they’ve yet to experience—

All the goodness that can be theirs—

And we must make a way to help them find that goodness in the midst of all else.

 

Our students go home for the summer today.

 

Oh God.

Keep them safe.

And let them be kids.

With freeze dances and freeze pops and parachutes.

Amen. 

The Holy Spirit

 Yesterday, I had the privilege of preaching the Pentecost message at my church. Here is a brief summary of what the Holy Spirit laid on my heart to say (about the Holy Spirit):

 

At the beginning of Luke, when Elizabeth hears Mary’s greeting, Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit. “How could Elizabeth be filled with the Holy Spirit,” you might wonder, “when Jesus hadn’t yet sent the Spirit to the church?”

 

First, it must be recognized, that the Holy Spirit is pre-Pentecostal. In the Old Testament alone, the Holy Spirit is mentioned over 350 times as Creator and Sustainer of Life, Constant Presence, Counselor and Teacher, Source of Art and Craftmanship, Victory Over Fear, and more. So clearly, the Holy Spirit has been alive and active since before the dawn of creation.

 

What makes the post-Pentecostal Spirit so important is that Jesus Himself sent the Spirit to ALL people—not just the Israelites—to carry on His work in the world.

 

In yesterday’s Gospel reading from John 14, Jesus says: “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.”

 

How, though, can anyone do greater things than Jesus? How can anyone surpass walking on water, calming storms with a word, multiplying food for thousands, raising people from the dead, healing the multitudes, welcoming women, children, and outcasts?

 

Jesus goes on to say: “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever—the Spirit of truth…[and] the Advocate, the Holy Spirit…will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.”

 

That’s it, friends: It’s precisely because Jesus went back to the Father and sent the Holy Spirit to be with us in his physical absence that we are able to do even greater works than Jesus did during his earthly ministry—maybe not in scope and sensationalism but in breadth and magnitude.

 

Jesus commanded his followers to go into all the world and make disciples of all nations—something that he, in his thirty-three years of ministry was physically limited in doing. To help them do this, Jesus sent the Spirit. And it is the Spirit that helped the disciples remember, learn, follow, emulate, copy, and share the good news of Jesus— and it is the Spirit that does the same for us today.

 

Because Jesus died and was resurrected—

Because Jesus made the way for ALL people to come to the Father—

Because Jesus was God incarnate—living, breathing, and teaching his disciples on this earth—

Because Jesus promised his disciples that they would know the Spirit—that the Spirit would live with and in them—just as Jesus had lived with and in them—

Because Jesus fulfilled His promise and sent the Holy Spirit to ALL believers in a mighty and powerful way on the day of Pentecost—

We have the Holy Spirit with us today.

We have infinitely more power than we need to enable us, the church, to take the light of the gospel of Christ—the gospel of Love—to EVERY tongue and tribe and nation—

 

Amen.

A Spiritual Discipline

 Well, friends.

It’s been a year.

It’s been a year since Heidi the Librarian walked into my classroom and introduced me to blackout poetry.

It’s been a year since we sat down to write our first poems together and

It’s been a year since I’ve gone a day without writing

(Minus the day that my kidney stone/abdominal infection hit).

 

I’ve written

…at home, school, the lake, and friends’ houses.

…in coffee shops, hotels, and airports.

…in Charleston, SC; Jacksonville, FL; and Waco, TX.

…fiction and non-fiction, biography and autobiography, spiritual and non-spiritual.

…through summer, autumn, winter, and spring.

…through Annie the Cat coming to live with us.

…through the bats’ return.

…through G-mama’s passing.

…in sickness and in health.

 

I’ve written over 800 poems or statements—some worth keeping, some worth throwing away, but all copiously archived in notebooks in my room:

Anne of Green Gables, The Giver, Bridge to Terabithia, Bridges of Madison County, Make Blackout Poetry, Make Blackout Poetry Activist Edition, and Redacted—all complete!

Where The Crawdads Sing and Blackout Poetry Journal in progress.

 

I’ve laughed.

I’ve cried.

I’ve struggled to find meaning.

I’ve had words jump out immediately on the page.

I’ve wanted to keep going.

I’ve wanted to give up.

 

But through it all, I’ve found strange peace—

A peace in creating,

A peace in blocking out everything else and focusing on the text anywhere from 5 to 55 minutes at a time,

A peace in having a friend walk alongside me on the journey (because Heidi is still writing, too), and

A peace in knowing that this has been, and will continue to be, my spiritual discipline for such a time as this.

 

What about you?

What has been your spiritual discipline?

What has wandered into your life and taken hold in an unexpected way?

Please share. I’d love to hear.

And I’d love to give thanks with you for all the ways God lives and moves.