Will You Uphold Me?

On our way back from Florida today, I finished listening to the book, “Blackwater.” In it, the main character, Brodie, plays a simple prank on two kids from his high school, yet the prank goes wrong and both kids die. Paralyzed by emotion and reality, Brodie allows his cousin—a wandering, attention seeking soul who lives for danger—to construct a lie about the events that led to the students’ deaths. As a result, Brodie and his cousin are heralded as heroes…yet the truth eats at Brodie’s soul.

One girl knows the truth, though. One girl saw what happened. In a gentle, loving way, this girl encourages Brodie to confess the truth because she knows, from experience, that hiding the truth is more difficult than living a lie. She assures Brodie that even though the truth may be difficult to speak and even though it may not be well-received, things will, in time, smooth over and telling the truth, in the end, will allow Brodie to live free. She also assures Brodie that she will support him and walk with him through whatever happens.

Eventually Brodie tells the truth. As can be expected, Brodie’s parents are devastated. They hurt for the reality of what happened but they also grieve for the weight of guilt that their son has been carrying alone.

The book ends the night before the funeral of the second student. Literally sick with regret and worry—with the knowledge that his life will never be the same—Brodie—a middle school boy—asks his parents if he can lay between them in their bed—in the place where he once felt safe. As the family lay on their backs beside one another that night—each thinking their own thoughts—the mom and dad drift to sleep...but Brodie lies restlessly awake.

Then, in one of the most profound scenes I have ever read, Brodie whispers his dad’s name. His dad immediately wakes up—the book says it’s as if the dad only half sleeps—as if he’s always listening for his name in case his son or wife need him—and says, “Yes.”

Brodie says, “Dad. Will you uphold me tomorrow?”
Brodie’s dad responds, “Son. I will uphold you tomorrow and in all the days to come.”
And then Brodie goes to sleep.

Oh dear friends…may we be like Brodie’s father (and friend) and choose to uphold one another no matter what truths are confessed or lies are constructed.

Like Brodie, I believe we’re each doing our best to survive, yet sometimes life spins out of control and leaves us gasping for air. Some days we have it all together while other days we’re lucky to survive. But oh the scary freedom of truth! Oh the knowledge that we’re all in this thing called life together! Oh the sting of consequences but the balm of grace! Oh the assurance of being loved…of feeling safe…of feeling secure…of knowing you’re going to make it…of knowing you are upheld.

“Deanna? Will you uphold me?” you may ask.
“Yes, friend.” I will answer. “I will uphold you. Today, tomorrow, and in all the days to come.”

Amen.

The Moon and The Nativity

I had the privilege of babysitting my niece (Amelia) and nephew (Griffin) on Saturday night. As part of their bedtime routine, they each chose one book for me to read aloud. Amelia chose a short picture book while Griffin chose two chapters of a Magic Tree House Book. They each listened to the other’s selection, Amelia sitting on my lap, Griffin curled around my shoulders like a comfortable cat or dog.

As I read from The Magic Tree House, Amelia leaned her head back and looked around the room. She said, “I can look anywhere I want during this story because there aren’t any pictures.” I didn’t think much of her comment until church on Sunday morning. As I sat listening to the cantata, I thought about the Christmas story that was being read to me through music and spoken word. For some reason, it made me think about reading to Griffin and Amelia the night before—reading and imagining what it would be like to travel to the moon and ride on a moon buggy.

The story on Saturday night was exciting and alive. While Amelia looked around the room, she pretended to be in the story. She wasn’t tied to pictures on a page but free to imagine images in her head. She was fully engaged in the story. So was Griffin. They didn’t want me to stop reading because they wanted to know what would happen next…

I wish I could say that I greet the Christmas story with this same excitement and imagination. But if I’m honest, then I must admit that I don’t. I’ve heard the story so many times and I’ve seen so many nativity scenes and I’ve witnessed so many arguments about keeping Christ in Christmas that the story has lost something along the way. I wish this confession weren’t true. I wish that I approached the season of Advent with the same anticipation and wondering with which Griffin and Amelia approached The Magic Tree House on Saturday night or that I’ve approached the 57 audio books that I’ve “read” this year. But I don’t. I know the Christmas story. I know how Christ’s life began and I know how it ended. The story is familiar. It’s comforting. It’s part of the narrative of my life. Yet I grieve the fact that it’s been reduced to a still, stale nativity scene. I grieve that the “greatest story ever told” has gotten stuck on the page in a clean, perfect moment…

Because it couldn’t have been a clean, perfect moment. Well. It could have been perfect, but I doubt it was clean. Mary had a baby in a stable. On its own, having a baby isn’t clean. I’ll leave you to ponder the details of childbirth. And on its own, a stable isn’t clean. I’ll leave you to ponder the smells that accompany a stable. And Mary and Joseph couldn’t have remained frozen in a posture of peaceful adoration while shepherds and wise men came to visit. They still had to eat and drink and sleep and take care of normal bodily functions and “household” chores. And Joseph probably had to leave the stable to be counted in the census, right? [I don’t know about this because I don’t know how the census worked…but the census is why they were going to Bethlehem, right? So it makes sense that they had to do something with the census at some point.]

And the shepherds probably had to heavily weigh whether or not to leave their sheep—their livelihood—alone in the fields to do what the angels said. They probably had to discuss what they’d just seen and heard and figure out what they wanted to do. And they probably had to figure out what to say when they arrived at the stable. How do you introduce yourself to the parents of a newborn baby who is declared to be the Son of God? And when they got there, they probably didn’t freeze in humble submission as much as they gazed upon the baby Jesus in awe—like we gaze upon newborns in awe. They probably made silly little noises and funny little faces and ooo-ed and ahh-ed about how beautiful Jesus was. I’m not saying they didn’t bow down. But I don’t think they froze in one silent position.

And…I don’t know. The possibilities of LIFE in the nativity scene and the Christmas story seem endless when I take the time to read or listen beyond the page—to look around the room and imagine what it might have been like to be there—not just on the night Jesus was born but during the moments when Mary and Joseph found out they were having a child, when Mary marveled at the changes taking place in her body during pregnancy, when Simeon and Anna saw their lives’ ambitions fulfilled when Jesus was presented at the temple, when Joseph changed his first diaper, when…you fill in the blank.

Oh God, forgive me for allowing your story to become stale. Give me fresh eyes to see and new ears with which to hear and allow my holy imagination to sense the same excitement, anticipation, and wonder about your presence in this world as children sense about their visit to the moon. Amen.

Project Idea: People Watching

People-watching is something you can do anytime and anywhere—as long as there are people around! In fact, people-watching is something that we’re always doing—as long as there are people around! So why not make people watching intentional?

As you move through the hustle and bustle of this holiday season, pay attention to the people around you. If you look closely, you’ll be able to see beyond shoes, clothes, hair, handbags, shopping carts, book bags, and Bibles and into a full gamut of emotions. You’ll see happiness and joy, yes. But you’ll also see anxiety, fear, sadness, loneliness, and grief. For some persons, the holidays are very difficult. They may not have presents to give or receive. They may not be promised endless supplies of food. They may not have a loving family with whom to surround themselves. Or they may be missing loved ones who have gone.

You can people-watch in a shopping mall, at school, in a grocery store, or in your church. You may even choose to people watch in your family. Pray that God will give you a spirit with which to discern emotions and wisdom to know when to speak and when to remain silent in prayer. When you begin to open yourself to what others may be feeling or experiencing, you may realize that you have a close friend or family member who really needs your love and encouragement.

Consider people-watching as a group—setting aside a period of time during which you all simply watch and pray (either alone or in pairs) and then coming together to debrief what you’ve seen (beyond crazy fashions and people picking their noses) and to brainstorm ways you can minister to any needs you have discovered.

An Advent Confession

I had one of those moments during worship yesterday when God’s spirit overwhelmed me and I was left in tears. And these weren’t small, unnoticeable tears. These were large, uncontrollable tears that streamed down my face, onto my neck, and into my shirt. And I totally didn’t expect it.

The preacher began to preach, and I began to cry. At first, I cried tears of sadness for grieving family members, lost traditions, and the deep hurts of this world.

Then I cried tears of conviction as I realized just how small my faith had become. I live and breathe God and theology and the ministry and the church, yet somehow my faith has become stagnant and stale. The preacher asked one very simple question: Will you believe in what God can do this Christmas? If God came to earth in the form of the Christ-child over two thousand years ago and if that Christ-child changed how we view the law, how we treat humanity, and how we believe in true life eternal, then why could God not do it again? Why could God not take normal, hum-drum reality and transform it into something more wonderful than anything we can imagine? Why could God not take stagnant, stale, or impossible reality and breathe new life into existence? If I believe in our God of Advent—our God of life and creation—our God that I profess to love and serve with my whole life—then should I not believe in what God can do this Christmas? And not just this Christmas, but in life in general?

Then I cried tears of, oh, I don’t know what they were tears of, but they came as I prayed the Lord’s prayer and asked God to “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” If I am honest, then I must confess that there are many people and institutions who I feel have trespassed against me—who have hurt me with words, actions, and deeds because of theological or political beliefs, past actions, and other issues that need not be discussed. If I am honest, then I must confess that there are many people and institutions toward which I feel bitter and judgmental and for whom I have lost belief that anything good can come. Yet if I am to live as one forgiven, and if I am to hope that others will grant forgiveness toward me, then I must extend forgiveness—and hope—to those who have trespassed against me. I must release the bitterness and judgment that I feel—however overt it is—because I really didn’t realize it was there to the extent with which I was tearful yesterday—if I am to live with a faith that is healthy and whole and that believes in what God can do.

One of my favorite passages of scripture is Isaiah 55. I like the whole passage, but my favorite verses are from 8-13: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth:It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the pine tree, and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the Lord’s renown, for an everlasting sign which will not be destroyed.”

Oh, Deanna. Oh that you would remember these words. Oh that you would live into these beliefs that God is so much bigger than you and that God can do so much more than anything you can imagine.

And oh, dear friends. Won’t you join me in this confession? Won’t you allow yourself to cry tears of grief for those who are hurting, repentance for faith that is dying, and whatever other emotion needs to be cried for whatever conviction God lays upon your heart?

And then, together, may we go out in joy and be led forth in peace this holiday season, answering yes to this question and to the God whom we love and serve: Will you believe in what God can do this Christmas today?

Deanna The Double Dutch Dreamer

Last night was my Sabbath night, so I did not cut on the TV or use my computer after leaving work. Instead, I cooked, cleaned, and read—both with my ears and with my eyes. With my ears, I read the book, “Double Dutch,” and with my eyes I read one speech out of “Great Speeches By African Americans.” I fell asleep thinking about slavery, freedom, and double dutch. Quite an odd combination.

I really enjoyed listening to, “Double Dutch.” I liked the middle school characters—I could hear echoes of students from years past—and I imagined the sport—a sport that I have always been fascinated with—and I wished that I could back handspring into two turning ropes and then cartwheel in and out of them with ease. But alas. I cannot. I’m fairly certain that I never will. In fact, I think the turning of the ropes at this point in my life might make me motion sick!

One of the things that I keep thinking about today is how double dutch gave the characters in the book purpose and meaning. More than one character declared that double dutch saved their life—that it gave them something to be good at, somewhere they could belong, a positive way to escape from their problems, and a goal toward which to strive. At one point in the book, the characters united in the Double Dutch Pledge and said:

I promise to do my best to:
• Report for practice on time;
• Work cooperatively with my coach, teammates, and Double Dutch officials;
• Strive to encourage good citizenship, always setting a good example;
• Practice good health habits—promising to be drug free;
• Demonstrate my best with daily school attendance, assignments, and home responsibilities.

I don’t know about you, but I think the Double Dutch pledge—which is purely fictional as far as I can tell—is a great way to live. I think workplaces would be transformed if everyone pledged to:
• Report to meetings on time;
• Work cooperatively with my boss, coworkers, and company officials;
• Strive to encourage good citizenship, always setting a good example;
• Practice good health habits—promising to be drug and other addiction free;
• Demonstrate my best with daily work attendance, job assignments, and home responsibilities.

And what about churches?
I promise to:
• Report to Sunday school, worship, choir practice, and committee meetings on time;
• Work cooperatively with my pastors, lay persons, committee leaders, and deacons;
• Strive to encourage good citizenship, always setting a good (Christ-like) example;
• Practice good health habits—promising to be drug free and not to over-eat at church pot-lucks;
• Demonstrate my best with worship attendance, missions, and home responsibilities.

I think you get the idea.

Deanna The Double Dutch Dreamer may never say the fictional Double Dutch Pledge at the fictional National Double Dutch Tournament, but she can make a pledge with her life to be the best God has called her to be. And she can do everything possible to make the church and her life’s expression of Christianity a place where people can come and feel welcomed and accepted, like they have a place to belong, like they have a positive escape from their problems, and like they have something that they are good at—whatever that something is—because we’re all good at something—even if it’s not Double Dutch.

Hallmark Movies and Dark Sides

Sometimes I think it’d be nice if life were a Hallmark movie. There would be tragedy, yes, but everything would resolve within two hours and everyone would live happily ever after. I should know. I watched at least six Hallmark movies over the weekend. It may have been eight. I lost count.

My dad called to say hey last night. He was cutting out coupons and thinking of me. As we were talking and I told him that I’d been at my apartment all weekend, he said, “Well it’s good you’ve been able to rest and have some time to yourself. But the danger in that is that it can make you feel lonely and alone.” He is exactly right. After so many hours of sleep and Hallmark movies—all of which end with the guy getting the girl or vice versa—one can begin to feel sort of lonely and alone. And when this one feels lonely and alone, her thoughts can turn very dark and unrealistic. I’m glad my dad called. And I’m glad that Iron Chef America pulled me away from the Hallmark channel.

A few weeks ago, I got Kelly Clarkson’s latest CD. The purchase was a Target impulse buy, but I’m glad I bought it because there are some good songs on the CD. One of them is called “Dark Side.” The lyrics are:

There's a place that I know
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone
If I show it to you now
Will it make you run away
Or will you stay
Even if it hurts
Even if I try to push you out
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am

Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it
You know that we're worth it
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?

Like a diamond
From black dust
It's hard to know
It can become
A few give up
So don't give up on me
Please remind me who I really am

Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it
You know that we're worth it
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?

Don't run away
Don't run away
Just tell me that you will stay
Promise me you will stay
Don't run away
Don't run away
Just promise me you will stay
Promise me you will stay

Will you love me?
Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it
You know that we're worth it
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?

I just got back from Christmas Packet Day. On the first Monday of every December, a group of us gather at a local church to finalize the packets. Packets are delivered from churches and associations from across the state, but they must be checked and stuffed with a Christmas card and scripture booklet before they are delivered. As I worked today, surrounded by both civilians and inmates, I couldn’t help but think of Kelly’s song—of Hallmark movies and loneliness—of the dark side that each of us has. And I couldn’t help but be grateful that scripture tells us that, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for [we] are all one in Christ Jesus.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m thankful that everybody’s got a dark side—that none is better than another—that we are all connected with a common thread of humanity—and that we can live with the hope that, somehow, in the end, maybe not as easily as a Hallmark movie, Light will consume darkness and Love will prevail.

God…thanks for not giving up on us and for giving us a chance to pass on your steady love. Amen.

Baked Beans, Mr. Potato Head, Fair Maiden, and A Purr Box

Well, friends. She’s done it again. The sleep texter struck last night.

One minute I was reading and perfectly awake. The next minute I was asleep, only I didn’t realize it (as can be evidenced when I answer the question: are you still asleep). I suppose that my brain knew that I was having a conversation and that I hadn’t said good night—which I will do if I am having a conversation with you at night—I always like to end a conversation so that I know it’s over—so every time I woke up my brain evidently felt as if I needed to continue talking…and it just so happened that who I was talking to was up doing homework and kind enough to respond to my insanity (and exploit my sleepiness :-)).

So now, for your reading pleasure, I present to you, “Baked Beans, Mr. Potato Head, Fair Maiden, and a Purr Box.”

Me, 9:36pm: It’s Sabbath night for me, so I’m just reading.
Friend, 9:37pm: Nice. Enjoy :-)
Me, 9:38pm: It’d be nice to have hot chocolate :-).
Friend, 9:39pm: :-)
Me, 9:44pm: I’m actually enjoying this book. It’s WMU history. I don’t usually like istory, so it’s weird that I’m enjoying this.
Friend, 9:52pm: I’m glad you’re enjoying it! My calves hurt :-(.
Me, 11:57pm: Hey. Are you still awake? I fell asleep reading. It’s one of my talents :-).
Me, 12:00m: Happy December! :-)
Friend, 12:00am: :-)
Me, 12:01am: HEY!! :-) What are you doing?
Friend, 12:01am: Working on homework.
Me, 12:01am: All my lights are on. Hehe.
Me, 12:02am: Good job for working on your homework.
Me, 12:05am: How are you?
Friend, 12:05am: I’m good. Are you still asleep?
Me, 12:07am: Why no I am not. I have just moved to my spacious bed. I am right in the very middle. And I must say. My bed, away from the space heater, hosting me in my pajamas, is much cooler than the couch. I feel likes being cooler.
Me, 12:10am: I don’t really like onions. You know that. But some things are just plain better with onions than without. Baked beans are one of them. Shhhh. Don’t tell!
Friend, 12:15am: :-)
Me, 12:16am: Mr. POTATO HEAD! I never played with him. But. He could be fun. Creating new identities and such. Especially with a mustache.
Friend, 12:18am: :-)
Me, 12:23am: Exactly what portion of your homework morsels are you working to digest?
Me, 12:37am: How is your working, my fair maiden?
Friend, 12:44am: Fine. Hahaha.
Me, 12:45am: Tis great to hear and music to my ears.
Friend, 12:51am: Hahahaha.
Me, 12:57am: Why do humans not have a purr box like cats? That would be helpful in relatiedships, you know?:
Friend, 12:58am: A purr box? Going to sleep now. Hope you’re sleeping well.
Me, 2:47am: Good night for real. Hehe. I just had the oddest dream! Couldn’t make it up the hill. Light out this time.

Me, 8:00am: Good morning. Sorry I fell asleep on you last night. I was reading and then sleeping.
Friend, 8:30am: You should read the texts you sent last night.
Me, 8:35am: Hahahahaha! Oh my. Where in the world was my brain?! I guess you figured out I was asleep :-). Did you laugh at me?
Friend, 9:49am: Yep. I was laughing a lot :-).

FYI: I also wrote my mom in my sleep, telling her that I was asleep when she wrote me—that I had fallen asleep reading—but that I was up and moving to my bed—and that I loved her. It’s always important to tell your mom you love her before going to bed, right? :-)

We Don't Like To Talk About This, But...

According to www.xxxchurch.org, 40% of Christian women struggle with porn. Porn surrounds us. Soft porn has become a cultural norm. Yet pornography is something that we don’t discuss. And so it is eating at the very core of many Christians.

While most Christians will say that it is wrong, pornography must be recognized as a complicated issue. Many times, porn addiction begins with innocent sexual questions that progress into secret activities of shame. Viewing porn is something that can be done alone, in the privacy of the home or dorm room. It is something that is not immediately traceable and seems not to cause any harm. Viewing porn is a risky, rebellious activity for many Christians who otherwise seem to have everything together. Viewing porn is an escape from reality--a momentary release from the stress and pressures of life. Viewing porn, therefore, is a very real temptation in times that are stressful—in times when life seems out of control—in times full of papers and exams and the demands of holiday life…

So to simply acknowledge that porn is wrong is often not enough. The compulsion or addiction to view porn is often stronger than morality; therefore, we must acknowledge more than its “wrong.” We must shed God’s light on the truth that pornography is not innocent and that it distorts reality. It distorts healthy views of sex and sexuality and creates tension between couples. It sets unrealistic expectations on partners and bodies and portrays women as nothing more than sexual objects. It encourages sex as raw feeling and control rather than intimacy and emotional connection.

What’s more, the pornography industry is fueled by human trafficking, often using trafficking victims to produce its films. If we, as a church and/or society, cannot agree that pornography itself is bad—and we may never come to this agreement—then the fact that this multi-billion dollar industry is fueled by activity that blatantly disregards the dignity of human life and Christ's command to love one another holding persons in bondage through force, fraud, and coercion, should be enough to unite us and compel us towards a stop.

If you or someone you know is addicted to pornography, please know that there is help and that there is grace. God’s design for us is to live in freedom rather than darkness, in joy rather than shame. It’s never too late to take that first step out of darkness—to have that first conversation—to say no that first time—even when life is stressful and everything seems out of control. God is there. And God loves you—and the person beside you—and the addict next door…

Amen.

My Mouth Hurts

[written Monday, 11.28.11]

I spent a majority of my day at the dentist. Don’t worry. Nothing is wrong. But I did see my entire dental and medical history flash before my eyes this morning as I sat through mouth x-rays, realized my blood pressure was high, and wondered if I had cavities, gum issues, a fractured tooth, a tender root, and/or any of the other major dental issues one could have. I didn’t. But you know what I did have? A whole lot of stress.

A little back story:

When I was 24, I realized that I had high blood pressure when I was at the dentist. My hygienist took my blood pressure as a routine action and then refused to clean my teeth until I had gone to the doctor and had my blood pressure checked. Because the bottom number of my blood pressure—the one that measures the pressure of the heart at rest—was high, my doctor immediately put me on BP medicine. Thank you, parents for high blood pressure genes and thank you, anxiety, for living as a stress ball inside me.

A few years later, during another routine cleaning, my jaw almost locked open. Because of this, my dentist fit me with a bite guard to help me not clinch my jaw. I must admit that I’m not a faithful bite guard wearer…which is actually why I had to return to the dentist this afternoon.

After my cleaning this morning, I realized that I was clinching my jaw a lot and putting a lot of pressure on one particular tooth, thus causing it to ache sometimes. The simple solution? Wear my bite guard. But first, it needed to be adjusted.

As my dentist was doing the adjustment, I had the hardest time relaxing my jaw so that he could move it freely. I tried as hard as I could to relax—which sounds like an oxymoron—but I had a super hard time! I suddenly remembered my massage therapist saying, “Yeah, I know,” when I mentioned that I had a hard time relaxing my arm. I’m seeing a pattern here.

My arm is connected to my shoulder which is connected to my neck which is connected to my jaw…the muscles of all of which I evidently have trouble relaxing.

The sad thing? I thought that I’d begun to unwind from the major parts of the stress that I knew I had been carrying!

Sigh.

There is no uplifting point to this note. My mouth hurts. But my teeth are clean. I have no cavities or major dental issues. And I have an adjusted bite guard that will hopefully help me not clinch my teeth, thus helping relax my jaw muscles, thus helping me release some of the stress that I carry, thus helping lower my blood pressure a bit? [Okay. I realize that last one is a stretch, but…we can hope, right?

God, thank you for people who don’t get grossed out working in other people’s mouths.

Amen.

An Attitude of Gratitude

Give us thankful hearts...
in this season of Thy Thanksgiving.
May we be thankful for health and strength,
for sun and rain and peace.
Let us seize the day and the opportunity
and strive for that greatness of spirit
that measures life not by its disappointments
but by its possibilities,
and let us ever remember
that true gratitude and appreciation
shows itself neither in independence nor satisfaction
but passes the gift joyfully on
in larger and better form...
—W.E.B. Dubois


For Thanksgiving this year, we remember, as Dubois suggests, that gratitude is in itself a practice. The expression that "true gratitude and appreciation... passes the gift joyfully on in larger and better form" suggests that we should not think of gratitude as a passive experience but as something we do, thanksgiving that we reflect back to the world through our actions and gifts. A recent New York Times article reports scientific findings that "an 'attitude of gratitude' has been linked to better health, sounder sleep... greater satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others." There's a reason for that—joy begets joy.

--Taken from this week's Alliance of Baptists E-Newsletter

Everything I Could Fit Into My VB Duffel Bag

I am a vivid dreamer. In fact, I wish that I had the diligence to record all of my dreams because I know they’d tell me a good deal about myself. A few years ago, I did have this diligence and I’m now able to look back and see a written record of transformation in my dreams—a transformation of real life hurt and anger to one of forgiveness and being okay. It’s amazing how much work can happen in our dreams…which may be why I often wake up just as tired as I was before I lay down!

I had a weird dream the other night that I keep thinking about. It’s hard to put the images into words but I’m going to try:

I was either at a conference or at work when I went outside and noticed that the tide was really high. As I flew away for a quick break, I realized that everything around my building had been destroyed—including my building—only, the floors that were below the ground were just fine—therefore my office or hotel room or dorm room (it was all of these things at one point) was fine, too. Because of the mass devastation that the waves had caused, everyone was evacuating the building—for good. They were never going to be allowed back. I refused to evacuate, however, because I didn’t have my phone or wallet or computer or anything else that I needed to survive.

I knew that my space was safe—I had just come from it, after all, and didn’t even know the rest of the building had collapsed until I took a flying break—so I didn’t see why I couldn’t go back and grab what I needed. I shared this predicament with Boss. She agreed and told me to follow her. She then led me to an underground mall where National WMU President, Debby Akerman, and National WMU Executive Director-Treasurer, Wanda Lee, were eating Chinese food. Boss quietly interrupted them and asked Debby for the key to our rooms and explained that we needed to get back to them to get something. Debby gave us the keys and we returned to our space—carefully avoiding the “Caution: Do Not Enter” tape.

When we got to our space, we found a couple of our other coworkers—or friends from college or my school teaching days—I think the people changed. Quietly, we each began to pack up our stuff, hoping that we wouldn’t get caught. At first, I packed haphazardly—just putting stuff into my bag. But then I realized that I had been granted more time than originally planned, so I began to unpack and repack—this time being more careful.

I knew that I could only take what I could fit into my Vera Bradley duffel bag, so I carefully considered what items were truly important. I asked myself if clothes were things that I often wore—if they would be difficult to replace if left behind (like the pair of jeans that just can’t be replaced)—if I could buy them again easily—if I never really wore them. I asked myself about books and papers and such…and I had to make sure that this one striped shirt was with me because it was really my favorite pillow case that a friend had given me.

As I sat there and packed my VB bag, I hoped that the guards wouldn’t come and throw me out before I was finished. I also tried to figure out the best way to say goodbye to everything left behind and to load my VB bag into my car…but then the dream shifted to me flying away, over a school yard, trying to direct myself to a safe landing but losing control and becoming a fugitive weapon and…then I woke up.

Jenny used to tell me that dreams were either fear or wish dreams. And I think most of the time that’s true. But I’m not so sure what this dream was…except for weird…and one that’s made me think about what I’d pack in my VB duffel bag if I had to weed down everything I own into just one bag.

What about you? What do you think you’d take from your office, hotel, dorm, class, or bed room if the building above you crashed? Or…what weird dream have you had lately?

Beyond Chocolate

Human trafficking exists in two forms: sex trafficking and labor trafficking. Both forms of trafficking are, in actuality, modern day slavery, and they force individuals—usually women and children—to do work or sex acts through force, fraud, or coercion. Many “gentlemen’s” club workers, prostitutes, and pornography stars do not willingly engage in their work but are forced there by human trafficking. Likewise, many nannies, hotel and restaurant workers, migrant workers, and workers in the chocolate industry (to name a few) are not provided with proper wages and living conditions but are forced to do their work by someone else who profits from their labor.

Human trafficking is a billion dollar industry. Its influence reaches deep and affects each of us in ways that we may not know. Read today’s article by Christy Amar and listen to how God may be leading you to change your buying habits…especially with chocolate.

http://www.mymissionfulfilled.com/article.asp?id=2488

Simple Complexity Beside the Naked Yellow Tree

The yellow tree beside my window is almost completely naked now. I’ve watched her strip her leaves today, gently releasing them from her branches, freeing them to float to the ground. It’s been lovely to watch, a beautiful cascade of color in the background of my black and white, computerized work…

The thoughts and questions on my mind today are simply, complex:

My question of the week: I’ve not come up with a definite answer, but I’ve been thinking about it. How do I communicate my work and call in a non-apologetic way?

My conviction of the week: I need to make a better effort of purchasing gifts and items that allow me to be a good steward of my resources while also supporting the community/economy and not supporting slave-labor. This conviction was planted earlier in the week after reading the following post by my friend Sean: OK people, please bear with me for a quick update/rant...Stop buying stuff online and support your community!!! Don't click! It is less than 50 days until Christmas and we are solidly in the 4th quarter. In my area of retail, 30%+ of our yearly sales happen in the 6-7 weeks before Christmas. Here are the trends that I've seen... 1) The average ticket price is the same to slightly better than last year, and 2) The number of tickets per day (compared to this time last year) has dropped dramatically. Here is my analysis: The people shopping with us are doing fine (financially), but we are losing our customer base. If our tickets were down and price per ticket were down, then I'd say it was more of an economic downturn. In our area we have lost (local) competitors yet had a growth in population. These people have to be shopping somewhere. I am assuming that they are buying online. If this continues, I will be out of a job and you may see another empty store front. For every $100 spent at a large chain, $13 stays local; whereas, for every $100 spent at a local indie store, $45 stays in the community.

My literary quote of the week: I listened to a dramatization of “Lord of The Rings” this week and pretty much had no idea what was going on most of the time; however, I did hear some pretty awesome quotes. This is one of them. And I think it’s a profound statement of redemption and grace: "He deserves death." "Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, or good or Ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many - yours not least." (Frodo and Gandalf discussing the fate of the betrayer Gollum, Chapter 'The Shadow of the Past')

What are the thoughts and questions on your mind today?

Ignorance May Be Easier But Knowledge May Be Redemption

I don’t remember where, but I read somewhere that washing dishes by hand actually uses more water than washing dishes with a dishwasher—and, no, it wasn’t a dishwasher add. Being the dutiful natural resource exploitation fighter that I’m trying to become, I decided that I would start using my dishwasher instead of washing my dishes by hand. The only problem is that my dishwasher doesn’t actually clean many of the dishes most of the time; therefore, I end up washing a bunch of dishes again—by hand. I’m thinking that I’m not saving much water that way…so I’ve decided to go back to washing dishes by hand…and apologizing to God and the universe if I’m wasting water…especially since a whole bunch of water always ends up on my belly.

I decided, too, to scrape the bottom of my pots and pans with steel wool in hopes of helping them work better again. I don’t know what’s happened to them but they’re not cooking as well as they used to. Yet I feel bad getting new ones and producing the trash of the old ones. So I’m hoping I can restore the ones that I currently have. True. There are plenty of new pots and pans that have already been manufactured and will therefore one day be trash, but if I don’t buy them then I am not demanding them and if I don’t demand them—along with a bunch of other people—then maybe the need to over produce will stop. I have to do my part, right?

Sometimes I think that ignorance is easier than this!

Last week, I had the opportunity to rescue a bunch of “trash”—only, it really wasn’t trash at all. It was stuff that other people simply didn’t want and was therefore being thrown away. Here’s how some of it will be used by Barb the Art Teacher, Jacqui the Crafter, Mom the Musician, or a couple of others:

1) Scrap paper will be used for drawing/coloring designing.
2) Old give-a-away mirrors will be used to help the students with self portraits. I rescued an entire box of these.
3) A plastic cart will be used to roll paint supplies around the classroom.
4) An old display box will be made into a piece of art.
5) A perfectly good, wall-sized art picture frame will be used to house a piece 0f art from grandchildren to grandmother.
6) A wooden house frame will made into a piece of art.
7) Unused chopsticks will be made into art journals.
8) Animal bingo chips will be used for an art lesson on creativity. Barb gives her students two animals and has them combine them into one new animal.
9) A table easel will be used for teaching and holding big books.
10) Pocket folders will be used for art journals.
11) Hanging file folders will be used for organizational stuff.
12) A wall filing system will be used to sort mail.
13) Desk filing systems will be used to organize classroom folders and art.
14) Three ring binders will be used for a county-wide art teacher meeting, to hold choir music, and at an after school tutoring program.
15) Old banners will be used as drop cloths.
16) A portfolio carrier will be used to transport student art work to the county wide art show.
17) The Five Love Languages book and teaching pack be used as a church study.
18) Two teaching packs on financial freedom will be used as church studies.
19) A magnetic board and picture frames will be used to hang pictures.
20) An upright desk paper holder stands will either be used to hold papers at the computer or to hold books for the kids to see.
21) A CD holder will be used to store teaching CDs.
22) Rigid square tiles will be used as square templates.
23) Bendable square tiles will be used in a print project.
24) Wooden desk trays will be used as pet beds or some other crafty thing.
25) An entire box of “Making The Church Work” will be distributed to people who want them.
26) Magazine holders will be used to store, well, magazines.

And…there’s more…but I can’t think of what it is right now.

Yes, it took me quite a bit of time and effort to make sure stuff wasn’t wasted. As people threw things out, I picked them up. But it’s totally worth it to know that perfectly good resources are being put to good use…by friends and family members—by associations and churches—who actually needed the resources not to be thrown into the trash.

I spent a good portion of last week singing the chorus of, “Rescue The Perishing.” I might be wrong…but maybe rescuing reusable “trash” really is part of rescuing the perishing…and maybe my simple actions of being mindful of the water that I use in washing dishes and thinking twice before throwing away my pots and pans really is part of redeeming this world.

It's Easy To Lose Yourself

I have no sense of direction. For instance, I was riding in the car with a group of people the other day around sunset. When we got lost, I said, “I wonder which direction we’re going.” Another passenger said, “Looks like we’re going north because the sun is to our left.” Duh. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. I know that. But I didn’t think to use that fact to help determine which way we were going. Maybe that disconnect of fact to real life is one of the reasons that I often get lost…especially if my GPS refuses to work.

Thanks to the GPS and other global technologies, it’s becoming easier and easier not to get physically lost. But while it’s now relatively simple to locate oneself on a map, I would argue that it’s now just as difficult to locate oneself in one’s heart. With all of the “stuff” that we have and the “things” we are demanded (or expected) to do in all of the many roles that we are demanded (or expected) to play, I think it’s easy to lose ourselves and to one day end up wondering how on earth we got to where we are.

Over the weekend, I said to a friend, “I’m just worried that you’re pulling yourself too thin and not finding any joy in life.” She looked at me and said, “What about you?” After I realized that she wasn’t saying that I was a joyful part of her life :-), I fumbled with my words and attempted to explain how I was doing my best to find joy in life—even if I was exhausted and feeling like work had sucked the life out of me in recent weeks…

Before coming back to South Carolina yesterday, I stopped by my sister’s house to see her, my brother in law, and the kids. The family has recently done a lot of renovations to their house and back yard and the newest addition is a new play house/swing set for the kids…only…the play house is tall enough for an adult to stand in and the swings are high enough for an adult to swing on. Dana, my sister, said, “The reason it turned out so big is that I wanted the swing to be high enough for me, too.” A few minutes later, as I was pushing my niece “higher and higher,” Dana sat beside her and began to swing, smiling almost as widely as her daughter.

Having the play set built a little bit higher so that she could use it may seem silly, or selfish, to some; however, I would argue that it is one small way that Dana can be herself—that she can participate in one of the activities that she’s loved since childhood—that she can do to help not lose her own identity simply because she is a mom and a wife and a daughter and a volunteer and a friend. Yes, those roles are part of who she is, but they are not the entirety of her personhood. And she knows that. And so she built the kids’ play set a little bit higher.

This weekend, I visited one of my favorite places on earth. I listened to the rain and breathed in the cool, fall air. I saw some friends and celebrated that my best friend will soon have a baby. I bought Bullet a new toy and some dog treats and ate breakfast with my parents. I pushed a little girl on a swing while she giggled and squealed in delight. I watched a little ninja jump tree roots and hop on one foot—backwards :-). I made sure to do a few things that gave me joy—that filled me with life.

I did those things. Dana built a tall swing. What about you? What have you done recently that has filled you with joy and helped you not to lose yourself? Or if you find yourself lost, what’s something you can do to help yourself be found?

The Dreaded M

Have you ever felt like you know someone because of the amount of time you spend listening to him/her on the radio or watching him/her on TV? It happens to me a lot. I’m so loyal to my favorite TV and radio personalities that I speak of them as if we’re on a first name basis.

That’s how I came to know Larry Burkett. I listened to Larry every day on my way home from school my first year of teaching. Larry taught me how to budget, how to give, how to avoid debt, how to use my credit card only a substitute for cash, how to pay off debt using the snowball effect, how important it is to start saving for retirement when I’m young, and so much more. Larry died a few years ago, and I was sad when he did. I will always be grateful to him because of how he impacted my life…and I never really knew him…just his voice on the radio.

This week’s lesson is about the dreaded “m”—money. Take a few moments to read the article by Sharon Morton and to sit with the parts that stick out to you. You may be in good financial shape or you may be struggling. Either way, this article can speak to you if you will let it:

http://www.mymissionfulfilled.com/article.asp?id=2511

What is the best financial advice that you’ve ever been given? And what is by a “real” friend or by a conceptual friend that spoke to you in a very real way?

Hard To Stay

I had a major work event on Saturday. The event went well. I couldn’t have asked for anything better, actually. I left the day exhausted yet full of adrenalized energy. I knew that I needed to go to my apartment and rest because I have another event on Thursday, but I wanted nothing more than to drive to North Carolina to see my family...because the boys were staying with mom and dad...and I wanted to go play.

But I stayed. I made myself do the logical, rational thing, and I stayed. I went to the apartment on Saturday and cooked and cleaned and I rested on Sunday and cooked and cleaned some more. I ran errands and watched movies and didn’t put 400 extra miles on my car. I called the boys and talked with them on the phone and chuckled as they abruptly handed the phone to another brother when they were finished talking. I did what made physically and monetarily made sense. But it was hard. It was so hard to stay.

Hmmm....

I’m not feeling compelled to write much today. I’m leaving in a few minutes to go to my last fall training of the year and I’ve been working feverishly to finish preparations for our Acteens/Youth on Mission event that’s happening this weekend. In between those preparations, I’ve been working to solidify things for the Human Exploitation Symposium happening next Thursday, all the while knowing that I have a bunch of articles to edit for our newsletter. Needless to say, my mind is focused on lots of things already; therefore, it has not been able to land on anything interesting about which to write. So...I think I’ll take this space to list some of the things for which I am grateful (in no particular order):

Indoor plumbing and a hot shower in which both to clean and have revelations about life.

Audio books.
Computer word processing and spreadsheets.
E-mail and texting.
Laser printers.
Laughter.
The ability to cry.
Comfortable shoes and clothes.
Glasses.
Colors and rainbows.
My family.
My friends.
Babies growing in my friends’ bellies.
Pets and zoo animals and bears that stay at a safe distance and don’t hurt anyone.
Purple Palmolive.
Green Cascade.
Electric razors.
Elevators that work.
Travel reimbursement.
Heating and air.
Punctuation and proofreading.
Coke rewards points.
Poetry, art, music, and dance.
Counseling.
Cherry Coke Zero.
Light. Hope. Grace. Love.
Willard and Fish Ball and Earl and Cassie May (even though I rarely get to strum arl these days and Cassie May’s keys sit mostly unplayed).
Camp.
Bakin.
Cooking.
The Food Network.
Yummy recipes.
Chocolate (fair trade of course).
Coffee.
Movie theatre popcorn.
Mini donuts from the fair.
Chicken and dumplings.
Field peas.
Cameras.
Good gas mileage.
Traffic lights and road signs.
Motion sickness medicine.
Breath and air.
Trees.
Healthy plants.
Sabbath.
My church.
Sleep.
My bed.
Stanley.
T-shirt sheets and quilts.
Soft pillows.
Comfortable pajamas.
Warm blankets.
Rest.

What about you? What are some things you’re grateful for today? Be careful when you start listing them, though. You might have trouble stopping!

More In The Waiting

My dear friend Amy asked me to attend a concert with her on Saturday night. Bethany Dillon is one of Amy’s musical heroes, so she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear Bethany since she’d been on a two year musical vacation after the birth of her first child.

Bethany opened for her husband Shane (of Shane and Shane). She played a simple song set—I think only four songs—and she talked about the songs that she sang—sharing bits of her story in between the singing—and, well, she was just great. I truly appreciate singer/songwriters who create from the depths of who they are. She is one of those. And I’m really glad I got to hear her play over the weekend.

The last song she played was a new song; it hasn’t been recorded so I can’t link it here or post the lyrics. But I can say this: it was about waiting and it was inspired by the simple statement, “God can do more in our waiting than our doing can do.”

I’ve been thinking about that statement since Saturday night. I like it. I think it’s deeply profound. Yet I’m not exactly sure how it’s to be lived because I’m not exactly sure how to wait without doing. I suppose we shouldn’t do things for the sake of busyness. But doesn’t life—and even call—demand that we do something—even while we wait?

For instance: When I was in high school, I waited on God to show me where I should go to college. But in the waiting, I had to continue with classes, put in applications, and go to interviews. I couldn’t simply stay at home and wait for the mail to arrive and the way to be made clear. In college, I waited on God to show me where I should go after graduation. But in the waiting, I had to do my part to be prepared for life after college. I couldn’t simply live the high life and wait for a position to land in my lap.

So how do we wait on God?

Or is waiting on God not really waiting at all?

Is waiting on God actually the active process of being formed into who we need to be for the next season of our lives?

Is waiting on God actually the process of living?

I don’t know. But I do know this:

I love Psalm 13. I love its honesty. I love the writer’s raw cry of desperation. I love the very real question, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?” And I love the ending when the psalmist basically says, “I don’t know how long, God. But I’m gonna keep singing your praises anyway. I’m gonna keep singing and trusting and hoping and loving anyway…because you love me…and I love you.”

And, well, I think that’s how I want to wait.
No…actually….I think that’s how I want to live.

To Protect and Serve

Part of serving God is taking care of the earth that God has given us. While the task of taking care of the whole planet is huge, we can each do our part by being careful of where we put our garbage, how we use our water, and how we make and/or use energy. As an African Proverb says, “Many little people in many little places doing many little things can change the world.” In other words, a multitude of people changing the way they do just one or two things can have a major impact on this world.

One of the best ways to serve God and protect God’s creation is simply to clean up. Trash not only clogs rivers and makes wildlife sick but it also takes away from God’s beauty.

Here are a few suggestions for serving God through “cleaning up” the world around you:

■Have an organization and community clean up day. Pick up and properly dispose of all trash within your organization, organization yard, and the yards/areas around your organization. If your organization's building is in a residential community, ask residents if they need help properly disposing of their trash.
■Participate in a beach sweep or lake-side trash pick-up day.
■Volunteer to help pick up trash after a local sporting event or community festival.
■Adopt-a-Highway. For more information on this program, visit http://www.scdot.org/community/adopt_faq.shtml

Hold Me Jesus

It’s really quite fascinating how fast minor inconveniences can turn into major obstacles. Though we know that spilling juice on our shirt isn’t the end of the world and that getting stuck in traffic won’t kill us and that failed plans aren’t going to ruin our lives and that misunderstandings will most likely be solved, we still let minor inconveniences take over our minds and fester in our hearts until we can’t see past them…until we dream about them and wake up in the night worrying about them…until we have nothing else to do but cry, “Hold me Jesus, cause I’m shaking like a leaf.”

Isn’t it amazing that Jesus then comes to hold us? Isn’t it amazing that his spirit comes to calm us down? Christ helps us remember that many of our biggest obstacles aren’t really that big after all. He helps us remember that life has a way of blowing minor inconveniences out of proportion. He helps us remember that together we can jump any hurdle. He helps us remember that life is moving forward even when we don’t have a clue as to how—that spilled juice and traffic jams can refine our patience—that failed plans that became shattered dreams can lead to something greater—and that misunderstandings with the misunderstood can teach us about listening and communication.

God’s presence with us is steady and intentions for us are good, yet sometimes we find ourselves so caught up in life that we can’t see what’s right in front of us—much less miles down the road. In those moments of blindness—whether from blinding frustration, tears, emotional darkness, or spiritual wilderness—all we must do is cry for Jesus to hold us. And he will. And, somehow, he will be our Prince of Peace.

Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

Connected Through The Body of Christ: A Follow-Up

Our building is being reorganized these days. In order to work more efficiently, teams are being grouped together and offices are being moved. We have now moved from first floor to third. When I came into work yesterday at 8:25am (five minutes early!), I began work in my old office. Mid-afternoon, I realized my new office was ready to occupy and my file cabinets were moved upstairs. Late afternoon, I began packing. Early evening, I gave my computer to Ron The Computer Man so that he could move it up. Mid evening, I began moving my stuff. Late evening, I began unpacking. Super late evening, at 10pm, I left for home (four hours late!). I’m in my new office now. I’m not completely settled, but I’m at least grounded enough to be able to work. And I’m tired. I’m very tired. I’m so tired that my brain is barely thinking. You know I’m tired when my brain cannot formulate thoughts!

As such, I’m simply going to post a follow-up to Monday’s post. I will start with Jenny’s response. And I will end with my closing words. [This exchange occurred on Tuesday, so my brain was working a little more fully then.]

----------

Dear Deanna,
Your words are overwhelmingly gracious and kind. Just one thought: Every place you write my name in paragraph 4, and perhaps some other places, I wonder if it should/could/can be “Deanna.” Remember: you did the work; you discovered your own truths; you did the struggling, the searching, the courageous naming, the transforming. I thank my therapists—and the two I’ve had have been incredibly insightful and compassionate—but I know I did the work . Just a thought. Peace to you always, Jenny+

---------

Jenny,

I anticipated this response...so I have a counter-response :-):

Read carefully:

and I was reminded that it was Jenny who first HELPED ME LEARN to accept that truth that I belong…that it was Jenny who HELPED ME LEARN to believe that God loves me for me…that it was Jenny who gave me the language of being a person of worth and value…and that it was Jenny who taught me to sit with life, open myself to it, and accept the joy and grief that comes with living.

And...well...you did give me new language. I had never heard it before. And we cannot know that which we have not heard :-). And I had never been taught to sit with life and open myself to it. I had never been taught the reality of grief that comes with joy that comes with life. So in those ways, you were not only my therapist but you were my greatest teacher.

Don't fret, dear Jenny. I know I did the struggling, searching, naming, and transforming. And I make a conscious effort to claim that truth when it is appropriate--not to boast but to speak a language that allows people to know that we must do the hard work of finding our own voice in order to be set free. And I know that God was with me. I know that God worked alongside and within me--that I couldn't have made the journey alone--and that God will do the same for everyone who accepts the invitation to the banquet table :-). But I know, too, that you served as my guide and teacher along the way--that you helped me see and hear things that I could not see or hear alone. You showed me glimpses of truth and light and taught me the tools to run toward those. You helped create the container--the safe space--in which my brokenness could be examined and in the light transformed. So, yes, I thank YOU and thank God for you...

I realize that it is only because YOU have done your own hard work of struggling, searching, naming, and transforming that you were able to walk alongside me--and so many others--in mine--and theirs. I realize, too, that you are still doing your own hard work--as I am still doing mine. And, I suppose this sounds odd and I hope I am not overstepping my bounds but, I affirm you in your journey and am inspired by your courage--your very human, faltering courage--and I am sending you the same light and love and peace that you always send me.

It's interesting. I write notes every Monday and Thursday. I spend a lot of time figuring out what to say and how to say it. More often than not, I receive little to no response to what I've written. But yesterday, people did respond. They were moved by my words--by this story--and I can't help but marvel at that fact and wonder why. Could it be the inspiration of one life changing another and forever being connected in the body of Christ? I don't know. But I'm glad I know you. And after seeing you on Sunday, I feel certain that the people of Christ Church feel the same...d

Connected Through The Body of Christ

It’s been a little over a year since I walked into Jenny’s office and received the news that she was leaving counseling to go back into parish ministry. I cried. She cried. But I knew she was following God’s call for her life and that her greatest joy was not just in counseling but also in serving Eucharist to the body of believers…so…how could I begrudge her call?

Jenny is an Episcopal priest. I’ve long been fond of the Episcopal church and its liturgy. Even before Jenny went onto church staff, I had wanted to visit the church where she currently serves. One of my favorite college professors has played organ there for many years and I’d wanted to hear him play for some time. He’s absolutely amazing. Each time he plays, it’s as if the listener is at a recital. His hands and feet work together yet separately to play the keys and touch the pedals and work the stops and make truly awe-inspiring music. And so I went to hear him play yesterday…and also to hear Jenny preach…although I must admit I didn’t know the proper protocol for a former client going to visit her former counselor at her church!

I think that Baptists often miss out on the rich heritage of the church and the beautiful prayers and liturgies of countless church fathers and mothers who have gone before us. Though I spent a lot of time trying to figure out where we were in the litury yesterday (and secretly wishing I had taken my personal copy of the Book of Common Prayer—just because I have one ), I felt connected to centuries of believers in a rich liturgy of faith that surrounded me with the holy otherness and peace of Christ. Hearing and experiencing the language, sounds, patterns, and rhythms of faith passed down through generations caused me to be keenly aware of how big God is and how worthy God is of my awe and reverence.

Then Jenny spoke…and I was reminded that the Kingdom of God is open to all who choose to accept the invitation…and I was reminded that we each have a place at God’s table and that at God’s table we each find the acceptance for which we long…and I was reminded that it was Jenny who first helped me learn to accept that truth that I belong…that it was Jenny who helped me learn to believe that God loves me for me…that it was Jenny who gave me the language of being a person of worth and value…and that it was Jenny who taught me to sit with life, open myself to it, and accept the joy and grief that comes with living.

Because I didn’t know if I was breeching an ethical code of conduct by attending Jenny’s church, I hadn’t planned to take communion yesterday but had planned to remain part of the crowd, to blend in, and to slip out of the service quietly without making my presence known. But then my college professor saw me and smiled. And then I found myself with tears streaming down my face. And then I felt myself strangely compelled to walk forward. And then I found myself looking up into Jenny’s eyes and hearing her say, “Hey you…” and serving me the body of Christ…and then I realized just how significant that one action was—just how much meaning was held in that fraction of time.

Jenny, whose life and work changed my life and work by being the non-anxious presence of God to me, who left a profession in which she excelled in order to return to the parish to serve Eucharist and feel most complete, served me Eucharist—the body of Christ—the body of the one broken for me—the body of the one who gives life—the body of the one who fills me with the peace that I began to understand only when I realized and confessed my own utter brokenness...and that confession was made in the sacred space that God and I created with Jenny…God’s servant and light to me…so many years ago.

At the end of the service yesterday, I waited for my college professor to finish the postlude. When he finished, I joined a handful of others in applause and my professor sheepishly waved his thanks. Then I went outside and found Jenny. I listened to her be a good minister and then gave her a hug. Then we both stood there and grinned and I marveled at how far I’d come…and I silently thanked God that we are eternally connected…in, and through, the body of Christ.

On Covering Fish Ball Deaton's Ears

I know, I know. Bowling balls don’t have ears. Nor are they alive. Nor do they have feelings.

But a few months ago as I stood on the lane approach at AMF Park Lanes, I found myself in a slight panic to cover Fish Ball Deaton’s ears. I didn’t want him to hear what the man beside me was saying to his ball. I didn’t want Fish to think that he, too, was a *$# #$%# #^&%$^@ piece of worthless #^&%$^ @#$% simply because he missed the desired pins. So I stood there and cleaned off excess icky lane oil and whispered, “Don’t listen to him, Fish. You’re a good ball—even when you don’t go where I want you to go. I want you to go down the middle now, but if you don’t, I’ll still love you. I won’t say horrible things to you.”

Such is the experience when we bowl Stinkin’ Jim.

I know, I know. It’s not nice to call people names. But it’s how we identify the people we bowl with—Big Cindy, Softball Boy, Rubberband Man, Stinkin’ Jim—they’re nicknames—terms of endearment, I suppose—and they mostly come from how people bowl. But not Stinkin’ Jim.

Stinkin’ Jim’s language is so bad that, well, it stinks. Jim curses in ways that I never knew possible. Jim curses when he’s mad. Jim curses when he’s glad. Jim curses when he’s done poorly. Jim curses when he’s done well. On Season Opening Night, Jim wore curse words and crude symbols on his clothing and named his team B.A.M.F. We don’t know for sure, but we’re pretty sure that those letters are short for words that rhyme with Tad Bass Other Trucker.

So bowling with Jim means trying to cover Fish Ball Deaton’s ears (not to mention the ears of the real, live children who often accompany parents and grandparents for the night). Bowling with Jim means being prepared to hear language not ordinarily heard and seeing a league shirt with a half naked, beer-drinking woman on the front. Bowling with Jim isn’t the most fun night of the season…but bowling with Jim reminds me that there is a hurting world beyond the walls in which I live and work and that that hurting world needs the transforming light and love and peace and hope and joy and freedom of Jesus Christ.

I don’t know much about Stinkin’ Jim. But I know that he has a job that requires him to travel. And from the half naked, beer-drinking woman on his bowling shirt, along with the language and behavior that I’ve observed at the bowling alley, I can assume that he visits “Gentlemen’s Clubs,” treats women (and maybe even humanity in general) with disrespect, and likely uses pornography to help him feel connected to someone or something larger than himself.

I don’t know. I could be very wrong. And I realize that I just made some huge assumptions about Stinkin’ Jim. But regardless of whether I am right or wrong about Jim, there is a hurting world beyond the walls in which I live and work and that hurting world needs the transforming light and love and peace and hope and joy and freedom of Jesus Christ…just as I daily need the transforming light and love and peace and hope and joy and freedom—and forgiveness—of Jesus Christ.

I usually wear the same shirt to bowl each week—an Appalachian State University shirt that one of my friends gave me. But tonight I’ve planned to wear a shirt that says, “Live Love,” on the back and I’m curious to see if its presence will have an effect on Jim’s language. I usually don’t wear blatantly Christian shirts. I usually don’t try to scream my faith through my clothes or my words but through my actions. Yet last night as I was laying out my clothes for the day, I felt compelled to find a shirt that clearly communicated what I believe…

I didn’t want to communicate judgment for terrible language or half-naked, beer drinking women, but I wanted to communicate love. For as strange as it sounds, I hurt for Stinkin’ Jim and for the emptiness that I see in his eyes and I love Stinkin’ Jim with the love of a God who created us all and wants to redeem us through the transforming light and love and peace and hope and joy and freedom of Jesus Christ.

We live in a hurting, broken world. Life has chewed us up and spit us out and we’re doing the best we can to survive. I believe that. And I believe that Stinkin’ Jim’s frustrations with life come out on his bowling ball and that makes me sad…but it also makes for an interesting challenge of covering Fish Ball Deaton’s ears…while living love.

A Psalm and No Regret

I doubt that anyone noticed, but I didn’t post a note on Thursday. For almost two years, I have posted notes on Mondays and Thursdays, regardless of whether or not I have worked those days. When I started this job (two years ago this first Monday of October), I knew that if I were going to write, then I would need to discipline myself to do it. And so I have written—sometimes having nothing whatsoever of importance to say.

On Thursday, however, after leaving Staff Retreat, I entered into a time of solitude in which I had no internet access. For over 24 hours, I was alone at the beach...listening to the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore, reflecting about life and work, breathing in God’s peace and grace. I had my phone, but I didn’t fret about not having internet access. I knew that I hadn’t written or posted a note, but I decided to take a break. I needed a break. My mind and heart were cluttered from the busy-ness of life, and I needed a chance to detox.

On Friday night, a group of middle school girls arrived and I proceeded to lead them in a retreat until Sunday morning. We examined together parts of Psalm 1, Psalm 13, Psalm 32, Psalm 100, Psalm 113, and Psalm 139. We shared about thoughts and questions and the certainty of God’s love for us and plan for our lives even in the midst of situations that we do not understand. On Sunday morning, after a time of worship through music, we wrote our own letters to God (our own Psalms of sorts) and imagined reading those letters to Christ, believing that he was listening.

My writing said:

God.
Thoughts of this month completely, totally, utterly overwhelm me.
All my fears and insecurities,
Everything I’m afraid of—
Looking bad,
Disappointing people,
Not pleasing my coworkers,
Not being good enough,
Not getting everything done,
Something major going wrong—
All of my demons are haunting me.
“Now I surrender…”
Move this mountain of insecurity,
These thoughts that paralyze me.
Move them and help me to accomplish this month
One day, one step at a time.
Please.
You can speak through me, my thoughts, my planning.
You can be glorified and worshipped…
Let it be so.
Amen.

After the girls left yesterday, I finished my time at the beach with a few more moments of solitude. I once again listened to the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore, reflected about life and work, and tried to breathe in God’s peace and grace—and courage. Leaving yesterday was hard. Coming into work today to face the month ahead was hard. But I’m here with my to-do list, slowly marking things off, remembering the peace of the weekend, and feeling absolutely no regret for not posting on Thursday :-).

Waves And Light And Peace

Up at 6am, out of the house by 6:30am, I drove two hours for church yesterday morning. I spoke for 10 minutes during the early service and sang, “We’ve Got Miles To Go.” I went to Sunday school and thought about purpose and vision. I did the children’s sermon during the 11:00 service and sang “A Follower’s Prayer.” I heard the same sermon twice—a sermon about Isaac and his humanity and God’s faithfulness. I drove two hours home, stopping to fill GiGi The White Ant with gas and Harry My Belly with food. I packed GiGi’s trunk and back seat, lay down on the couch for ten minutes while reading with my ears, and then left home again to pick up Cindy so that we could go to staff retreat.

We stopped by our offices to get planning materials, road down a long road for a long time, had serious and silly conversations, got coffee at Starbucks, and ate supper at Shoneys. We arrived at our hotel around 7:30pm. We overloaded the luggage cart, found our room, unloaded our luggage cart, returned our luggage cart, moved GiGi to a legal parking place, and then sat with Donna, Laurie, and Sandra for a little while before going to walk on the beach.

We walked for a little over an hour. We walked toward the bright lights of the Myrtle Beach Skywheel as if they were a beacon guiding us safely through a dark night. We stopped under the wheel, marveled at its height, and then walked away from it until another night. We came back to the room, got ready for bed, and then I finished the 20th hour of the book that I had been reading since Thursday. I started a 27-hour book today.

Today, too, we’ve talked and thought and worked and planned and in a few moments I will leave the tranquility of the porch on which I'm writing to go inside and cook dinner.

There’s something to the consistency of the waves. There’s something to their movement, to their ebbing and flowing and constant change.

And there was something to the brightness of the lights against last night’s dark sky. There was something beautiful and compelling that made me want to be with the light.

And I think there’s something to Jesus, too. I think there’s something to the ever opening presence of his life and words and something to the light of love that belief offers. There’s something to the peace that he offers in the midst of speaking and sitting and listening and reading and questioning and traveling and eating and drinking. There’s something to the beauty of creation that he, the Word, created—that he, the Word, is creating—and right now, in this moment, as rain begins to fall, I confess that I am humbly overwhelmed by this something of waves and light and peace.

Cheesecake and Soda

I have a hard time with menus—especially long ones. I look at all of the choices and become overwhelmed with the options and then it takes me a long time to decide what I want. The Cheesecake Factory is one of the worst. The menu itself is a spiral bound booklet and the number of cheesecake flavors is over thirty!

And now I have a hard time with the drink machine at my local Moe’s. It’s a computer. The drink machine is. It has a place to get ice, like all drink machines. But then it has a touch screen on which you choose your soda flavor from over 100 different soda flavor options. 100 different options! Then you press the “press” button and the machine dispenses your soda.

Here we are in America with over thirty different flavors of cheesecake and over 100 different flavors of soda—cheesecake and soda both being luxuries with little to no healthy, nutritional value—yet many persons around the world lack for basic food, water, and shelter.

I will confess. I like cheesecake. And I like Moe’s Mondays where I can get an enormous burrito, chips, and drink of almost any flavor for just $5.55. Sometimes I make two meals out of it and I am grateful. But sometimes I can’t help but notice the disparity between my life and the lives of the majority people in this world and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if this fast-paced, information saturated, instant gratification expecting society doesn’t have too many choices (and notice I didn’t even mention all of the choices that we have for watching an hour of television!). Does our myriad of choices actually paralyze us with overload rather than help us live happier, healthier, more satisfying lives.

What do you think?

(And what are your favorite flavors of cheesecake and soda while you’re at it? :-))

For Those Who Cannot Speak For Themselves

Like Thursday’s note, today’s note is a bit different than the norm. This note is actually a newsletter article that I was asked to write for my church. It is a reflection on both the church and an event that I am planning for work. It was actually pretty difficult to write.

I’m not sure why it felt any different than writing a note, but it did. I guess because I know it’s going into print and will be mailed to people who have never heard my name, much less read or cared about my thoughts?

If you were asked to write a newsletter article for your church, then what would you write? What message would you want people to hear about themselves, God, and your community of believers?

---------------

As soon as I saw it, I knew that Eau Claire Baptist Church was the church I had been looking for. From its age to its size to its architectural design to its location in Columbia, ECBC called out to me before I ever entered her doors. And when I did go inside, I found a diverse people with a heart for all of God’s people and I was overcome by the feeling of home.

It just so happens that, at that time, I was not only searching for a church home but also a place to host an event that I am coordinating for my work with South Carolina Woman’s Missionary Union (SC WMU). As part of a national project called Project Help, SC WMU has been educating about human exploitation for over a year. We have defined human exploitation as, “the unethical, selfish use of human beings for satisfaction of personal desires and/or profitable advantage,” and we have identified six focus areas: human trafficking (sex and labor), bullying, pornography, media exploitation of children and families, and natural resource exploitation for personal gain.

On Thursday, October 27, 2011, SC WMU plans to host an event called the Human Exploitation Symposium. This event will provide a practical education to any adult or college student who wants to learn more about human exploitation and what he/she can do to fight it. We are bringing in experts to discuss each focus area, and we are planning times of worship, prayer, and reflection as we seek to center on the reality that God has called us to “Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless; maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. Rescue the weak and needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” (Psalm 82:3-4)

This is where Eau Claire comes in. Eau Claire Baptist Church: in the middle of a struggling part of town. Eau Claire Baptist Church: who has been affected by land and population redistribution over past decades. Eau Claire Baptist Church: who has ample space. Eau Claire Baptist Church: a quiet, steady community presence. Eau Claire Baptist Church: the perfect location for the Human Exploitation Symposium.

Day in and day out, the people and ministries of Eau Claire Baptist Church, ourselves exploited in many ways, seek to live out the commands of Psalm 82:3-4. Against the odds, we seek to be a light in darkness, a place of safety in danger, a home for the wandering, and a voice for “those who cannot speak for themselves” (Proverbs 31:8-9). And now, on October 27th, ECBC will host visitors from across South Carolina who, themselves, desire to join in the work of restoring dignity to human life. We, in our willingness and humility, will open our doors to guests who, like us, believe that, “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on [us], because the Lord has anointed [us] to preach freedom for the captives and release from darkness or the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn.” (Isaiah 61:1-2)

Thank you, Eau Claire Baptist Church, for being the church of which I am proud to be a part.

May we join together to be hospitable hosts as we offer up the holy and sacred space that God has entrusted to us. Amen.

(For information on how you can help with the symposium, contact Kelly or Jimmy. For information about the symposium—including how to register—visit www.scwmu.org)

Orange Paper (non)Sermon

9/11/11

Yesterday = first day in long time home (tried to avoid)

Being vs. doing
• Doing = work “in the ministry” = know what should and shouldn’t do = keep going and working for God because it’s the right thing.
• Being = resting, praying, listening, sitting with life, thinking = uncomfortable sometimes but where, I think, God reaches us and connects us to God’s heart and all of humanity.

Scripture = Luke 10:30-37 = prayed to hear in new way = fresh eyes and ears:

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”


What I heard:
• We are ALL stripped, wounded, departed, left half dead (through loss of jobs, abusive homes, broken friendships, depression, stress, weight of world on shoulders, sickness, shattered dreams, betrayal, loss, and more).
• Samaritan looked down upon and judged = knew how it felt to feel stripped, wounded, departed, outcast. When you know that feeling, you know that you never want anyone to feel it and you do what you can to stop it in those around you!
• Maybe priest and Levite were so busy doing things for God that they hadn’t stopped to realize that they were the same as the man beaten.

Samaritan = physically helped AND gave money to do what he could not do. THAT is how Jesus ways to love with heart, soul, mind, and strength.
• Physically helped = called to different things = different gifts and passions for hands on. Ex. Project Help = I am not called to do something in all areas but am called to some.
• Gave money = gave to help restore dignity and worth of the man = we do that, too, when we give our money to missions and causes bigger than ourselves. Our money reaches where our hands physically, literally, cannot.
• Finished his journey = didn’t sacrifice where he was going but still made sure to reach beyond himself = we do that, too, when we follow our individual call but still offer resources and prayers.

Conclusion:
• In being yesterday, bought DVD player = watch “Coach Carter” = modern day parable = HE BELIEVED IN THE KIDS WHEN NO ONE ELSE DID BECAUSE SOMEONE BELIEVED IN HIM! He paid it forward—as we can—and we can pray it forward as well. Let us pray…
• Thank you, Jesus, for coming to live with us—for being stripped, wounded, departed, and left dead for us—for defeating death to live again and making the way for us to live true life—for living with and loving us and giving us the command to love…

Brave Soul That I Am

Saturday was the first day in a long time that I was in Columbia with nothing to do. To be quite honest, I did my best to avoid spending the day alone. I asked friends to hang out and even considered going home, but everyone was busy and the seven hour drive in less than 24 hours seemed a bit too much. And so I faced the day alone, brave soul that I am.

I’ve been so busy doing lately that I’d forgotten how to be. I’d been going full-speed ahead, doing the work of the ministry, serving others for and with God. I’d been writing and speaking and training and teaching and I’d upheld the moral standards of my call. At the end of each day, I’d gone home and crashed, barely able to keep my eyes open. As I’d drifted to sleep each night, I’d tried to listen for God’s quiet voice as I prayed through my days and weeks…and then I’d had active, vivid dreams. I’d been going to spiritual direction and thinking about spiritual things. I’d pondered and questioned and read and studied and found myself saying, “Dear God,” with almost every breath. And yet...I had been going so much that I hadn’t stopped just to be.

I hadn’t truly been resting, breathing, feeling, grieving, sitting in silence, or acting as if I knew that I had to do nothing to deserve God’s love. As odd as this sounds coming from me who thinks all the time, I hadn’t let the depth of my thinking catch up with me because I knew it might be uncomfortable. I knew I might feel lonely and that the ghosts of negative self-talk might surround me. And so I’d been avoiding just being...

Then came Saturday.

And guess what? I had a really good day. When lonely thoughts came, I just felt them and let them pass. I reminded myself that I’m not alone and that there are people who love me even when they are not physically surrounding me. When my ghosts started to spook me (figuratively, of course), I greeted them, looked at them, asked what they had to teach me, and then told them that I wasn’t going to let them hurt me again. I went for a one hour massage and felt squishy afterwards. I rested and cooked and cleaned and watched HGTV. I finally joined the public library and then bought a DVD player so that I could watch an inspirational movie. Yes, I did things, yet I was really being. I was being because I was doing things solely for the being of myself. I was living my life without demands or expectations from the outside world. I wasn’t trying to please anyone or check anything off of my to-do list. I was engaging in activities that build a life. And I sit here today a stronger person because of it.

I think it’s often easier to do than to be. It’s often easier to keep moving and doing what everyone demands or expects because, that way, we don’t have to figure out who we really are. But you know what? Who we really are—all broken, messed up, ridiculous, contradictory, in process, imperfect, trying—is who God loves. I was reminded of that on Saturday. And I wanted to remind you of the same today.

Are We Friends Now?

My fortune yesterday said that I was soon going to change my present line of work.

I joked with a friend that maybe I could become a professional Facebook updater.

She told me if she were independently wealthy, then she would hire me to write all of her stuff.

I told her that maybe we could write something together and become independently wealthy.

She asked if I had an idea.

I suddenly did.

It's nothing new or revolutionary. Just the story of how two unlikely women have become friends while living into something that can only be described as God-sized courage.

She told me that maybe I should start writing.

I told her that if she told me where to start, then maybe I would.

But then I thought of where I could start...

"Are we friends, now? Because I think we're actually friends. Are we?"
Smiling, "Yes, I think we're friends."

Just Some Thursday Thoughts

Ever wondered what goes through my mind on an average day? Here’s a sampling. Feel free to comment at any time :-).

So much of ministry is being with people where they are--not doing what one feels is good or "right"...

I know we can't always put weight on what people say; however, when more than one or two people say the same things then I think we must stop and consider what truth might be in their words and consider how God can begin to work with us to mold and transform our rough edges into the smooth, polished ones they can be...

We tend to think in extremes. I often wonder what would happen if we did not. Maybe life is not a matter of being “bad” or "good” or "right" or "wrong." Maybe it’s a matter of being present in the journey. We tend to focus on outcome--output--getting from one place to the other--finishing our tasks—getting things done--DOING. What would happen if we instead took intentional steps to BEING? What if we started trying to enjoy the journey—the process—realizing that right can go to wrong and wrong go to right in the blink of an eye. Actually, right to one person can be wrong to another. So maybe we should think less about judging right and wrong, good and bad, and focus on experiencing what is—focus on doing our best to live in healthy relationship and community with God and the world around us...

When does positive self-esteem/self-identity turn to arrogance and pride?...

Yes, there are always things that can be grown and strengthened and refined in us—like our understanding of people and situations and actions and group dynamics—and the acceptance that we cannot single-handedly change the world or fix everything that's wrong—and the practice of remembering that we’re not the center of the universe—and the ability to rest in God. But I don’t think room to grow should be seen as despicable current reality...

When we mess up, I think it’s important to recognize and name that we’ve goofed and then ask ourselves the hard question of what we could do differently next time. I don’t think it’s important to harshly punish or blame ourselves or deem ourselves unworthy. Our time is better spent learning and moving on...

So much of being a leader is coaching. So much is modeling and guiding and letting people develop their own strengths and talents--not doing things for them. That’s really hard for those of us who are perfectionistic doers...

I’m thinking that life is just one big circle and that we're presented with the same types of situations over and over and over again--just in different forms. I think it’s been this way throughout all of humanity. If I’m not careful, then, I’ll start to wonder what’s the point of it all...

What does it mean to be "honest"? Is honesty telling the truth? And should it be spoken at all times, even if it will do no good and/or actually hurt the person hearing it? Are there times when omitting elements of truth is better than raw truth? Actually, what is truth? Is it absolute? Is it changeable? Does that make it opinion? What’s the difference between truth and opinion? Doesn’t it all come down to belief?...

I think that’s about it for now.
Well, those things and bowling.
I’m thinking that I hope I bowl average or above :-).

Retirement: A Labor Day's Reflection

I told my parents yesterday that I wished I could retire. They looked at me and laughed.

I’ve made the statement many times before—the one about wanting to retire. I said it when I was teaching. I said it when working on church staff. I said it when I was in divinity school. I say it now.

Yet I know it’s not what I really wish.

The idea of retirement is nice because it comes with endless possibilities in my mind. It comes with funding and benefits that would free me to go and do many different things—almost all of which include an element of serving and giving back to both this world and the God who created it. It comes with ability to create my own volunteer schedule and to have my own dress code. It comes with the opportunity to rest. And I so longingly desire to rest.

But when it comes down to it, I’m thankful for the ability to work. I’m thankful for the structure and schedule—for opportunities to look beyond the comfort of self and focus on the needs around me. I’m thankful for community and opportunities to make applesauce for or deliver coffee to my coworkers. I’m thankful for diversity and the way gifts and talents work. I’m thankful for routines and planning and the sense of accomplishment that comes when marking things off of the list. I’m thankful for vision and purpose and for all of the tools that I need to complete my work. I’m thankful for a desk and a computer and an office with a window and bookshelves. And I’m thankful for a paycheck that I earn that allows me to live within my means and still have some to give back. I’m thankful for the dignity and worth that comes through holding a job and keeping it. And I’m thankful that God has called me to play a tune outside myself.

As I write this post, I’m getting ready to load my car and head back to South Carolina. I’ve been in North Carolina for the weekend—spending time with friends and family members—and I have been content to be surrounded by joy and love. In times like these, driving back to SC for work is hard. Thoughts of being retired seem so much nicer than thoughts of going into the office tomorrow. Yet…I know that my office is where I am called, so I will drive back with a sense of purpose…albeit it clouded with sadness tonight.

I suppose this is how life is. A mixture of wish and reality; of longing and acceptance; of joy and sorrow; and everything in between. I’m coming to accept this reality and learn to live with and through it…even when my parents laugh at me because my distant wishing is a bit silly.