Annie The Surprise

 

I was telling Annie her baby story on Christmas day when she reached up and whopped me in the head. I guess she didn’t want to hear it. But maybe you do.

 

On the night of Wednesday, August 25, 2021, while four tiny, stray kittens gobbled up the cat food that I had gotten from a friend’s house on the way home from choir practice, I looked out the dining room window and saw the Mama Cat sitting under the rocking chair.

 

We made eye contact. She either meowed or hissed a me. I’m not sure which. I spoke to her through the window, told her that everything would be okay, and two nights later, after I had returned home from Final Friday at ARTWorks Vass, I picked up Mama Cat for the first time, spontaneously naming her Queen Antoinette, or Annie for short.

 

Annie was a teenage mom. When I look at her now, still not even a year old, still growing bigger each day, I cannot believe that she raised four kittens. She’s as happy as she can be as the fourth member of the Deaton Household, zooming through the house playing with bottle caps and strings, helping my dad with his calling posts each day, begging for endless supplies of food, curling up on various beds and sofas when she finally decides to sleep—which isn’t often according to most cat activity.

 

Looking back on that night when I first saw my pretty girl, I think she was meowing rather than hissing. When she meows, she does it with her whole body. She lifts her head, opens her mouth, and speaks. I think she was speaking to me when she saw me. And I think I spoke back what she needed to hear.

 

Annie Deaton was one of the biggest surprises of 2021.

 

Blackout poetry and water colors were the same.

 

What about you? What surprised you in 2021? What changed your life?

 

Oh God: 2021 was a tough year for so many. So much stress. So much sickness. So much death. So much heartache. In the midst of it all, You were there. In cats’ meows. In dogs’ barks. In art. In music. In coffee. In hugs. As we hold the weight of it all, help us to balance the load with light, and laughter, and love. Go with us as we enter a new year. And help us to be met with good surprises that change our lives in positive ways. You are the biggest surprise we could ever hope for. Thank you. Amen.

Making Room

 

My sister’s family came to spend the night last Thursday night. Until 2am Thursday morning, however, there wasn’t room for them to stay.

 

One of the guest rooms is my office. It’s where I do my work and file my papers. It’s also the room leading to the attic and therefore becomes the catch-all of the upstairs.

 

Even though I had sorted papers many times this year, I hadn’t actually filed anything in a very long time. Instead, I had bags of papers that needed tending and various seasonal decorations that needed to be put into the attic.

 

And so I set out to work early last week. In between visiting with friends and family, running errands, wrapping gifts, and doing black-out poetry, I cleaned.

 

I cleaned the office. I cleaned the bathroom. I cleaned the guest room. I cleaned my room.

I gave the upstairs a much-needed make-over, and when I finished, the house was finally ready for guests.

 

As I think about the Christmas story, I think about the phrase, “because there was no place for them in the inn.”

 

I’ve always imagined that the inn was FULL—that ALL the inns were full. I’ve even imagined the inns as houses that people opened to guests.

 

But as I prepared for my family to come this Christmas, I began to wonder if maybe there WAS room for Mary and Joseph in the inn…except that the people didn’t want them.

 

Maybe their house wasn’t ready.

Maybe things were too dirty.

Better yet, maybe they didn’t want a pregnant woman giving birth in their home.

Or maybe they saw Mary and Joseph and passed judgment on an older man with a younger woman.

Or maybe they somehow knew Mary and Joseph weren’t yet married and didn’t want to condone their seemingly sinful behavior.

Or maybe Mary and Joseph were too ragged to meet inn-society standards.

 

We don’t know.

 

All we know is that Jesus was laid in a dirty, filthy manger because there was no place for his family in the inn.

 

Oh God. Help us to drop the excuses and judgments and to make room for you in our inn. Help us to keep our houses clean so that when you visit, we are ready. Help us to not let you pass by. Amen.

Caroling

 

On Monday afternoon, I joined a small choir of people who had arrived at the church to bring tidings of comfort and joy to various households in Sanford.

 

Led by our choir director, we traveled in a small caravan from place to place, sometimes standing in yards to sing, sometimes going into homes.

 

We sang spiritual songs. We sang secular songs. We sang favorite songs. We sang songs by request.

 

Sometimes the people we visited sang along. Sometimes they didn’t. But everywhere we went, they greeted us with smiles and thankfulness for our presence…and for the music.

 

Music is so very powerful.

 

One of the men we visited has dementia. He doesn’t remember much about his life, but he remembered the music.

 

Verse by verse, he sang carol after carol.

 

Just before singing “Silent Night,” he carefully made his way across the kitchen so that he could stand beside his wife and hold her hand.

 

Side by side, they joined us in singing.

 

His beautiful tenor voice blended with his wife’s alto voice and together they sang along with a strength and confidence that otherwise he has lost.

 

Harmony filled the room with a sweet richness that the house hadn’t heard in a long time.

 

It was such a tender and sacred moment.

 

Friends: We hold the sacred in our voices when we sing.

 

We hold light and love and joy in the lyrics that plant themselves so deeply in our souls that they cannot be forgotten.

 

We hold power in our melodies.

 

We hold grace in our songs of old…and new.

 

Oh God: You have given us the gift of music to connect with others in a way that nothing else can. This Christmas, accept our songs as sacrifices of praise. Help us to sing as we’ve never sung before…knowing that our songs connect us to one another and to something deeper and more powerful than we will ever know. Amen. And Amen.

Forgiveness

 

Shame:

“A painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the

Consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.”

Unfortunately, religion has a way of instilling shame in its followers,

Even though the truth is supposed to set one free.

 

For years, I have struggled to overcome deeply-rooted shame.

I have always been very conscious of my wrong or foolish behaviors

And, therefore, have internalized them,

Along with the thoughts that

“I was born into sin” and

“I am just a sinner saved by grace.”

 

For most of my life,

I have genuinely, truly believed that I am bad

And unworthy of God’s love,

“But for the grace of God through Jesus Christ.”

 

I’m not trying to start a theological argument here.

I know that we could argue about the goodness vs. depravity of humanity for days.

I’m simply trying to say that,

For me,

The beliefs that humanity is utterly deplorable were so damning that they paralyzed me.

And being paralyzed emotionally, spiritually, and mentally is not a good place to be.

 

Over the years, as I both expanded my view of religion and spirituality and went to therapy,

I started to figuratively walk again.

Somewhere in the process,

I realized that I had steered away from the word “sin” all together.

It wasn’t that I thought myself perfect or un-needing of forgiveness,

Rather, my focusing on my shortcomings was not helpful or healthy at all.

And so…I subconsciously abandoned the ship that I had been riding my whole life and

Treaded water with the help of a Life-Preserver until I found a new ship.

 

And my new ship has a confession and forgiveness of sin every Sunday morning.

Every Sunday morning, as a collective whole,

We ask forgiveness for the ways we’ve fallen short—

From personal affronts to global neglect,

We pray for grace to cover the things we’ve done and left undone,

And then we are reminded that, through the grace of Jesus Christ,

We are forgiven.

We. All of us. Have missed the mark. And yet.

We. All of us. Are forgiven.

And we can let go of the guilt, heartache, and shame that too often we carry,

Bit by bit, piece by piece,

Sunday after Sunday,

Time and time again,

Until it’s gone.  

We. All of us. Each one of God’s beloved children. Including me.

Don’t have to internalize our wrong or foolish behavior to the point of

Shame.

Because.

We. Are. Forgiven. And.

We. Are. Loved.

Forever. And ever. And ever.

Amen.

Healthy Resolve

I am a feeler.

I care about people deeply.

I want peace and harmony in life and relationships

And I will work tirelessly to achieve this goal.

(Although, often, it makes me very tired.)

 

I am also built to appreciate words of affirmation.

I long for positive words—

To give and receive them—

And I thrive when encouraging words flow freely.

 

For people like me,

Being cut off in relationship with no explanation,

Or worse, by way of negative words,

Is one of the worst things than can happen.

I’d like to say that I don’t know this from experience.

But I do.

Just like some of you.

And we’ve been left to carry the sadness and helplessness that follows.

 

I know that different people have different ways of dealing with life.

I know that not everyone holds to words and people like I do.

I know that some people and relationships are toxic.

I know that sometimes relationships need to end.

I know that sometimes boundaries must be established and that strong words must be used.

 

But friends: Can we agree, for the most part,

To work toward healthy resolve with the people in our lives—

Even when it’s hard?

Can we agree, for the most part,

Not to cut people off without first trying to say goodbye?

Can we agree, for always,

Not to make threats or try to hold power over others through fear and manipulation?

Can we agree, for always,

To love God, first, and to love our neighbor as ourselves, second?

 

Love is hard.

At different times, it is different things.

It is holding on and letting go.

It is drawing close and pulling away.

 

Oh God…help us truly to love…even when it’s hard. Help us to live in healthy relationship with one another, and when it’s time for relationship to end, help us to find peaceful resolve or to let it naturally fade away. Help us, God, to hold to all that is good, noble, and true. And God? When we fail love, please forgive us. Always. Amen.    

Squirrel

Most notes are meant to be inspirational.

This one is not.

This one is sheerly practical—

A suggestion, per say, that might come in handy one day

When you least expect it.

 

If you don’t have one,

Then you need a squirrel.

“A squirrel?” you say!

Yes. A squirrel:

A hidden $100 bill in your wallet (or purse)

To be used only in case of emergency.

 

Case in point.

 

I went to a Brooke Simpson Concert on Saturday night.

While the concert itself was great,

The communication surrounding the concert was not.

For instance, we didn’t know that we needed to pay $5 to park—

And that they only took cash!

 

Neither of us being cash carriers,

And me driving my dad’s car

(Because he has blindside warning lights and those are fantastic on the Interstate)

Instead of my car

Where I keep a few dollars of emergency money,

We didn’t have $5 between us…

 

Until…

 

I remembered…

 

My squirrel!!!!!

 

My mom and dad gave me a squirrel a long time ago.

I’d dutifully kept in my wallet as they told me.

 

And so…

$95-in-change later,

We made it to the Brooke Simpson concert in time for the meet and greet

And didn’t have to wander around town to find an ATM!

 

And there you have it, friends:

Always carry a squirrel,

For you never know when you might need it.

 

The end 😊.

 

MBTI and Gift Giving

I had the opportunity to lead a debriefing of the Myers-Briggs Type Inventory (MBTI) on Monday afternoon. As such, the MBTI has been on my mind pretty much non-stop for the past few weeks.

 

For most people, if they’ve ever even taken the MBTI, the MBTI is just a set of four letters that don’t mean much. Most people quickly forget their letters and move on. For me, though, the MBTI took root when I discovered that it could be used to foster spiritual growth. From that point forward, the MBTI has been central to my understanding of myself and those around me.

 

So just what is the MBTI? It’s a type inventory that helps explain four aspects of personality:

 

1)     Your personal energy source. Do you gain energy from the outside world of people (EXTRAVERSION), or do you gain energy from the inside world of thoughts and ideas (INTROVERSION)?

2)     How you subconsciously perceive information. Do you take in information primarily using your five senses, thus focusing on right now (SENSING), or do you take in information with insight and imagination, thus connecting past, present, and future (INTUITION)?

3)     How you consciously make decisions. Do you make decisions based on impartial facts and raw data (THINKING), or do you make decisions based on how they will affect people and relationships (FEELING)?

4)     How the world sees you. Does the world see you perceiving information (PERCEIVING), or does the world see you making decisions about that information (JUDGING)?

MBTI theory says that each of us has a preference for one of the two ways that each aspect is expressed. Put together, these preferences create 16 personality types that each have unique characteristics, strengths, and weaknesses.

 

That being said, one of the things that I found while doing research for Monday’s presentation was an MBTI guide to gift giving. Since Christmas is fast around the corner and not everyone has done his/her shopping, I thought I’d share a summary of that gift giving guide in case it helps you 😊.

 

ST types: These MBTI types tend to be practical and logical. When you're buying for any of these types, look for gifts that they'd find practical and useful. Often these types like gadgets - but useful ones. 

 

SF types: These MBTI types tend to be practical and sympathetic. They're people-focused people but with a focus on immediate, tangible help for others. When you're buying gifts for SFs, look for gifts that combine the practical and the personal. Often these types appreciate knowing that you remembered a special interest of theirs. For SFs, it really is the thought that counts!

 

NF types: When buying gifts for one of these MBTI types, look for gifts that are unique and personal. NFs often appreciate gifts that reflect who they are and what they value. For NFs, it definitely doesn't have to be practical to be valued!

 

NT types: When buying for NT personality types, look for gifts that are unique and thought-provoking. They'll often appreciate gifts that are innovative in design or creation. Whatever the gift, it should stimulate their intellect!

 

Is this a fail-proof guide to gift-giving? No. But is it good to consider? Yes. Because each of us is different. And it’s always good to remember that…even if we don’t know someone’s MBTI type.

 

God: Thank you for making us different. And thank you for giving us tools like the MBTI to help us understand ourselves better. Give us the wisdom to know who we are and help us to honor the differences in our lives. Amen.

 

By the way, if you’d like to discuss your type and understand yourself a little better, just let me know. I’m happy to explore this further with you.

Annie Live!

Amelia the Niece spent the weekend to help us decorate for Christmas.

We had a lovely weekend.

On Friday night, as part of our two-day festivities, we watched “Annie Live!”

We all thought that it was pretty good—

Even my dad!

 

One of the things that struck me about this version of Annie

Was how emotional the actor was who played Annie.

I’ve seen Annie a gazillion times.

I’ve seen the movies and I’ve seen the stage show in both professional and amateur theatre.

But I have never seen an Annie with the emotional depth that I saw on Friday night.

 

Annie has pretty thick skin.

Living in an orphanage all of your life,

With an abusive, alcoholic, albeit-portrayed-comedically, house mom

And a group of other orphans who depend on you to be their leader

Will do that to a person.

 

So when Annie is taken out of the orphanage and actually loved,

Her life drastically changes.

In every other production I’ve seen, Annie just rolls with it.

She’s happy-go-lucky and emotionally steady.

For instance, when Daddy Warbucks presents Annie with a new locket,

She is grateful for the gesture but confesses that, more than anything,

She’d like to find her real parents who hold the other half of the locket.

Just like that.

Matter of fact.

As if what has happened to her in two weeks hasn’t turned her world upside down.

 

On Friday night, though, when Daddy Warbucks presented Annie with a new locket,

She reacted so very strongly—

With a trauma response of someone whose only connection with her parents was being taken away.

She then proceeded to have a full emotional break-down while telling Daddy Warbucks that she wanted to find her real parents.

The break-down was very dramatic.

It was as if years and years of tears and hopes and longing were finally being released…

Because they were…

Because she finally felt loved…

And safe.

 

Friends: Many of us have developed thick skin.

We have built up walls of armor because we need protection from a cruel, difficult world.

Most of us will not have the drastic life change that Annie had,

But all of us, in time, can begin to tear down our walls,

Allow our hearts to soften,

And let in the people who love us and

Will stick with us through the changes.

 

May we be a people rich in the Love that changes everything,

And may we be a safe place when those we love completely fall apart.

 

Amen.

Two Songs of Love

 

The chorus of two songs are on my mind this morning.

One is by my beloved Sara Groves,

The other is by me.

Both have to do with love.

 

In her song, “I Feel The Love Between Us,”

Sara writes:

 

“Love is a diamond hidden in mountains
Covered in danger and dirt
I'm on the outside digging and digging
I've seen and I know what it's worth”

 

In my song, “You Came Into My Life,”

I write:

 

“So you can hate me and curse my name

Run away in anger, write words to shame me

I understand, I understand

I still love you and bless your name

Give Christ the anger, the hurt, the pain

And trust His hand, to take your hand

Because I can’t”

 

Love is messy.

Sometimes love comes easily;

Sometimes we must work at love.

Sometimes love means drawing close;

Sometimes love means letting go.

Sara writes about love being something that is carefully uncovered;

I write about love being something that is painfully released.

Sara wrote her song after many years of marriage to her husband Troy;

I wrote my song after a few months of friendship.

Love is old.

Love is young.

Love is intimate.

Love is brotherly and sisterly.

Love is joy.

Love is pain.

Love is…

 

What is love to you?

Showing Love This Holiday Season

A few weeks ago, we had an after-school gathering that was open to everyone on staff. We have around 70 people on staff. 4 of us showed up.

 

For some, this lack of attendance would signify a failed event. For me, the event was perfect because it allowed me to get to know the other three teachers in a more intimate way. We sat and chatted for at least an hour, and in that hour, we talked about both serious and silly things. We laughed a lot and learned a lot, and in so many ways that laughter was healing.

 

When it came time to leave, without thinking about it, I opened my arms and went in for the hug with one of my colleagues. Only after I’d started the process did I realize that I didn’t know if she was a hugger or if my actions would make her uncomfortable. Thankfully, she hugged me back, but I quickly confessed, “I’m a hugger. I usually rein it in at school, though, because I know that not everyone is a hugger.” I then asked my other two colleagues if they were huggers before hugging them.

 

A few years ago, one of my dearest friends taught me a valuable lesson: Not everyone likes to hug! For someone whose secondary love language is physical touch, this was a preposterous thought to me! But it’s true. For various reasons, some people don’t like to be touched. So now I try to respect boundaries before going in for the hug. As strange as it seems, respecting people’s boundaries and NOT hugging them without permission is one simple way that I can show love.

 

As the holidays have approached, I’ve been thinking about ways to show my love for the people in my life. Most of you have probably heard of The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. In case you haven’t heard, though, the Five Love Languages are: 1) Words of Affirmation, 2) Physical Touch, 3) Quality Time (focused, dedicated time for one person), 4) Gifts (including the gift of time, which is more about offering your time to someone than it is about the quality of that time), and 5) Acts of Service. Chapman’s idea is that each of us has preferred ways of both giving and receiving love, and sometimes those ways differ even within ourselves.

 

This holiday season, consider The Five Love Languages as you give and receive. Would someone in your life prefer sincerely written words of affirmation with a generic gift card just as much as or more than an expensive, hand-picked trinket? Would someone in your life prefer that you make an intentional date with them once a month just as much as or more than anything you could buy? Would someone in your life prefer you to come up with a thoughtful trinket just as much or more than giving them a coupon to clean out their car once a quarter? Would someone in your life appreciate hugs?

 

You get the idea. Different people appreciate different things. And yet. To be fully loved, we need all the things…both given and received.

 

Dear God: Help us to be intentional about gifts this holiday season. Give us creativity to come up with meaningful gifts for those we love and give us the ability to respect people’s boundaries all year round. You are the greatest gift, and we thank you for being the ultimate example of Love. Amen.

Giving Thanks

November is Native American History Month. As such, I spend the month focusing on Native American History, Music, and Culture with my 3^rd-5^th grade students. At the end of the unit, we read “Giving Thanks: A Native American Good Morning Message” and talk about specific things for which we are grateful. Afterwards, we make a word cloud of thanksgiving for our classroom teachers. The word clouds mean so much.

 

The text of “Giving Thanks” has been adapted from Mohawk tradition. It is very descriptive, beautifully written, and full of thanks. It reads:

 

To be a human being is an honor, and we offer thanksgiving for all the gifts of life.

Mother Earth, we thank you for giving us everything we need.

Thank you, deep blue waters around Mother Earth, for you are the force that takes thirst away from all living things.

We give thanks to green grasses that feel so good against our bare feet, for the cool beauty you bring to Mother Earth’s floor.

Thank you, good foods from Mother Earth, our life sustainers, for making us happy when we are hungry.

Fruits and berries, we thank you for your color and sweetness.

We are thankful to good medicine herbs, for healing us when we are sick.

Thank you, all the animals in the world, for keeping our precious forests clean.

All the trees in the world, we are thankful for the shade and warmth you give us.

Thank you, all the birds in the world, for singing your beautiful songs for all to enjoy.

We give thanks to you, gentle Four Winds, for bringing clean air for us to breathe from the four directions.

Thank you, Grandmother Thunder Beings, for bringing rains to help all living things grow.

Elder Brother Sun, we send thanks for shining your light and warming Mother Earth.

Thank you, Grandmother Moon, for growing full every month to light the darkness for children and sparkling waters.

We give you thanks, twinkling stars, for making the night sky so beautiful and for sprinkling morning dew drops on the plants.

Spirit Protectors of our past and present, we thank you for showing us ways to live in peace and harmony with one another.

And most of all, thank you, Great Spirit, for giving us all these wonderful gifts, so we will be happy and healthy every day and every night.

 

--Chief Jake Swamp, Mohawk Nation

 

In Mohawk tradition, children are taught this thanksgiving. In so learning, they are taught to greet the world each morning by saying thank you to all living things. Can you imagine how much different this world would be if we did the same?

 

Dear God: You are the Creator of Mother Earth. You have entrusted her to our care and you have granted us the benefits of all her beauty. During this season of thanksgiving, may we truly be grateful for every good gift and may our gratefulness turn to being good stewards of all you have given. Thank you. Amen.

Sitting Through The Hurt

Last week during a 1^st grade class,

A student got poked in the eye.

He cried.

The boys around him,

Including the boy who did the accidental poking,

Felt terrible for him.

They both tried talking to the boy.

When that didn’t stop his crying,

They both came to my desk to tell me that the boy was hurt.

When that didn’t stop the crying,  

They both broke chair protocol,

Scooted their chairs closer to the boy,

Rested their hands on his back,

And gently patted his back until he stopped crying and returned to class.

Their act of kindness was so genuine that it touched me.

 

When I look around,

I see people hurting.

The pandemic is hard.

Holidays are hard.

Life is hard.

 

And when I listen,

I hear non-stop words—

But too often those words are

Powerless and empty.

 

So may we be a people who break protocol if we must,

Scoot our chairs closer to those around us,

Place our hands on backs,

And sit with one another through the

Sadness, loneliness, heartache, loss, transition, grief, or pain.

 

Sometimes there are no words.

Sometimes, it really is presence that matters.  

 

May we be present today

And every day.

 

Amen.

The Beauty of Fall

Me: Well, hey! How are you?

 

Grandmother in the car rider line: I’m doing just fine. I’m enjoying this nice weather and the beautiful colors of the trees.

 

Me: I know. It really is gorgeous.

 

Grandmother in the car rider line: Do you think there are people who just don’t notice?

 

Me: I hope not.

 

And I really do hope not.

 

I hope that there aren’t people who are so busy that they don’t notice just how vivid are the colors of fall. I hope that there aren’t people who are so self-focused that they fail to notice golden sun or shimmering moon shining onto this earth. I hope that there aren’t people who are so jaded by religion that they can’t see the spirituality in nature. I hope. But I know these hopes are in vain.

 

Oh God: Open our eyes that we may see the beauty that surrounds us. Open our ears that we may hear birdsongs of praise. Open our hearts that we may feel your spirit in the gentle winds. For you are Creator God and we love you. Amen.

Hope

*Trigger Warning: Labor, miscarriage, and stillbirth*

 

Yesterday at church, my pastor asked the question: What does hope look like to you?

 

She presented answers that friends had given via Facebook, and she talked of the hope given by Jesus and the prophets. She built on Jesus’ metaphor of the hope of pregnancy—the promise of new life after the pains of birth…

 

And yet all I could think is that life is not promised from pregnancy. There are miscarriages. And still births. There are mothers who die during delivery. There are fathers who never make it home to see their child. There are dreams shattered. And hopes crushed.

 

According to the dictionary, hope is “a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.” According to me, these days, hope is either small, like a cat waiting for her food or toys, or big, like a contestant on a reality show waiting to find out if she has made it through to the next round. Put into words, the latter is longing and wishing coupled with anxiety and fear.

 

Maybe Jesus understood this definition of big hope. Jesus certainly understood about women and children dying during childbirth. He knew of the joys and pains of labor and delivery. So maybe he chose the metaphor of childbirth because it couples hope with cautious anxiety. And maybe Jesus knew that human hope is often met with human fear…

 

Dear God: Help us to hold to hope even when it is coupled with anxiety and fear. May feelings of expectation and longing guide us through our days and may those feelings push us through even the darkest times. For you ARE hope and ultimately you have overcome all fear. Amen. 

A Veteran's Day Reminder

Just before the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month of 2021,

I received an important lesson.

 

I was standing outside the gate of the Veterans Memorial in Broadway

When I noticed two vases of roses sitting on a table.

Distracted by how many people were at what I wrongly assumed would be a small event,

I didn’t read what the note said with the vases.

Again, I made a wrong assumption.

I figured that the roses were for sale to raise money for a Veterans cause.

I had no money with me,

So I didn’t entertain thoughts of buying one.

Instead, I stood there overwhelmed by the number of people surrounding me

And wondered where I should stand for the duration of the ceremony.

 

Then it happened.

A man,

A veteran,

Offered me a rose.

I said, “No, thank you.”

He said, “Are you sure?”

I said, “Yes. I don’t need one.”

Then he said, “Yes. You do. Please. Take this rose offered to you by an old man.

It would make this Veteran happy.”

So I took the rose.

 

I felt about an inch high.

 

I’d become so jaded by a society

That too often comes with strings attached,

That I quietly insulted a man who offered his life in service to that very society

That more often hurls insults in his face

Than says, “Thank you.”

 

God: For the men and women who chose (and still choose) to serve a cause bigger than themselves, thank you. For those remembered and those forgotten, thank you. Forgive us when we do not properly honor those who have gone before us and humble us to receive the blessings that their lives still offer. Help us to give, God. And help us to receive. With no wrong assumptions. And no strings attached. Amen.

Tears Are Water Is Life

Yesterday, as part of the Thanksgiving for Baptism on All Saints Day, we read:

 

“…We give you thanks, O God, for the waters of life;

For water to bathe in and water to drink,

For water to play in and water that inspires wonder,

For water that gives life to our planet.

We give you thanks, O God, for the waters of life…

 

We give you thanks for your salvation through water:

For delivering Noah and his family through the floodwaters,

For leading your people Israel through the sea into freedom,

For preserving your prophet Elijah through the time of drought,

For guiding your people across the Jordan into a new land,

For quenching the Samaritan woman’s thirst with living water.

We give you thanks for your salvation through water.”

 

Then, later in the service, as part of the Gospel reading, we read:

“Jesus began to weep.”

 

Tears.

Water.

Flowing down Jesus’ face.

Tears.

Water.

That moved Jesus to Lazarus’s tomb and caused him to bring forth Lazarus from the grave.

Tears.

Water.

That brought the dead to life.

Tears.

Water.

That brings salvation to us.

 

So go on and cry if you need to, friend.

Let the healing waters flow.

Let God’s salvation that saved Noah and Israel and Elijah and God’s people and the Samaritan woman and Lazarus

Save you, too.

Tears

(are)

Water

(is)

Life.

 

Amen.

Tired

I went to Waffle House for dinner with a friend last night.

What can I say?

I like the All-Star Special.

 

When the waitress came to take our order,

She said, “Can I sit down with ya’ll for a minute while you decide what you want?

I’m so tired.”

 

I said, “Has it been a long day?”

 

She said, “It’s been a long two weeks.

I’ve worked two weeks straight with no day off.

And last week was my birthday,

My mom actually came down from Maryland to surprise me.

My back was turned to the door when she walked in,

And when I saw her,

Everyone was wondering what in the world was going on.”

 

She went on to take our order,

And then tended to every table, the bar, and the check-out line in the Waffle House.

She and one cook were the only people working.

 

No wonder she was tired.

 

Tired seems to be a general state of being these days.

There are many reasons for this reality--

Many of which are that too many of us are overworked, underappreciated, and underpaid.

But I don’t want to focus on the root causes of tired today.

 

I simply want to acknowledge that people are, indeed, tired,

And to challenge each one of us,

Myself included,

To remember that fact when we look into the eyes of those we meet.

Maybe we need to connect our spirits with people when we, ourselves, are tired.

Maybe we need to extend grace, patience, and strength when we, thankfully, are filled with

energy beyond ourselves.

 

I also want to challenge us to do what our waitress unknowingly did when we are tired.

She took a little rest when she could.

She stated her truth. 

But then she went on to try to focus on something positive—

Her mother coming to visit for her birthday.

I have no idea why she told us this fact,

But she did,

And it encouraged me:

Try to find something light in the midst of darkness.

Try to find something to give fuel when the tank is running on empty.

 

Dear God, too many of us are running on empty. Too many of us are bone-weary tired. Give us the strength, endurance, and rest that comes only from you and help it to spill over into those we meet. Help us to show kindness. Help us to offer a smile. Help us to call workers by name. Help us to give freely when we have been served well. Help rules and policies that are sucking life from workers to change. Help us to do our part. And help us to all find work that is meaningful and life-giving even in the midst of tired. Amen.

 

The Pieces Fit

I think it’s happened, folks.

I think we’ve met a puzzle that we’re not going to be able to complete.

It’s a cool puzzle—

One that I’d like to add to my orange fish collection.

A friend sent it in the mail after buying it at Five Below.

She saw it while shopping and couldn’t resist picking it up.

I couldn’t resist starting it once we received it.

But now, I’m not so sure that we’re going to finish.

 

You see, the pieces don’t snap together definitively.

One piece might go in four or five different places,

Yet they all look right.

 

For awhile, we could look at the back of the puzzle to tell if the pieces really fit together.

Gradually, though, that method stopped working,

So we’re left with no way of knowing if the work we’re doing is right or wrong—

Until we come to a hole that cannot be filled because there are no pieces of that shape to fill it.

 

At one point, we had 23 pieces left.

And we had 23 holes.

Great!

Except.

The pieces didn’t fit the holes.

 

So out came the solid blue pieces of water

Until we had 48 pieces and holes.

 

And so the work has continued for days.

In and out.

Out and in.

Head down in defeat.

A wave of hope and determination.

Dementors sucking puzzle hope from our spirits.

Another wave of hope and determination.

Walk away in frustration.

And…you get the point.

 

Many years ago, I was introduced to a song called, “The Pieces Fit” by Considering Lily.

 

The song begins, “I was like a jigsaw with pieces missing, square peg, round hole. I’d try to climb ladder but always slipping, high jump short pole. I was stained till he came to cleanse me. I was torn till he came to mend me. It was a match made in heaven from the moment we connected.”

The chorus continues, “His (Jesus’) grace for my shame, His death for my blame, His stripes for my pain, and the pieces fit. His joy for my grief, His hurt my relief, my doubt His belief, and the pieces fit.”

 

Friends: There will be many things that seem to fit in our lives.

There will be many times when we think we’ve gotten it right only to realize we are wrong.

But when we truly understand the love and grace of God through Jesus Christ;

When we truly embrace God’s desire for us to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God;

When we truly hear that Jesus declared the greatest commandment is to love God and the second is to love others as ourselves;

When we truly realize that taking care of children, widows, and the poor really is more important than amassing great fortune,

Then the pieces really do fit.

 

I don’t know if we will be able to finish the puzzle or not.

We may have to raise the white flag of surrender.

Even so, our self-worth is not based on whether or not we can finish the puzzle.

Our self-worth is based on being children of God

Who work and laugh and try and pray and pull others into the fold along the way.

 

Oh God: With you, all things are possible. Even surrender. Help us to know when to keep going and when to let go. And thank you, God, for making the pieces fit. Amen. 

The Tie Quilt

When the world shut down,

My mom and I went into the attic and began to clean.

We cleaned and cleaned and cleaned,

Throwing out trashcans full of trash,

Filling up car loads of boxes to take to the thrift store.

 

In the process of cleaning, we unearthed hundreds of my dad’s old ties.

We thought, “Wouldn’t it be neat if we could turn these into a quilt?”

 

Around the same time,

I was chatting with my friend Heidi the Librarian and

Realized that she was a quilter.

She volunteered to take on the quilt-tie project,

Along with a sweatshirt and a t-shirt tie project.

 

One day, we met in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby

For the shirt and tie drop off.

 

Almost immediately,

Heidi went to work.

She completed the sweatshirt and t-shirt quilts rather quickly,

And then she began work on the tie quilt.

She worked. And worked. And worked.

 

Then life happened and she stopped working.

The tie-quilt sat on the frame for months without being touched.

 

The quilt taunted her every time she’d look at it.

She eventually began work again.

One quilt turned into three.

The stop and start continued for months.

Until finally, a year-and-a-half later, she was done.

 

Originally designed and hand-quilted in one-inch squares,

The quilt is absolutely stunning.

 

Naturally, we decided to enter it into the State Fair.

We dropped it off on a Saturday.

Heidi visited it the next Saturday

Only to find out she hadn’t won a ribbon.

We were bummed.

 

We both visited it last Thursday.

We proudly stood in front of it and had our picture taken.

 

There were some amazing quilts at the State Fair.

Ours was a crowd favorite.

It is a family favorite, too.

And it will be cherished for many years to come,

State Fair ribbon winner or not.

7-year-old In Worship

Taps on shoulder,

In a whispered voice,

“My mom told me I could come sit with you because my brother is being intentionally annoying.”

 

And that is how I ended up sitting beside a 7-year-old for the majority of worship yesterday.

 

This is what I observed:

 

7-year-olds, even ADHD 7-year-olds, CAN participate in community worship--

If there is something tangible to guide them.

My church’s liturgy is typed out in an extensive bulletin.

The prayers, scripture readings, creeds, and communion liturgy are all written out so that they can be followed.

The hymns are printed in the hymnbook.

I used my finger to guide my 7-year-old through the entire service.

He stood when it was time to stand.

He read as best as he could when it was time to read.

He sang as best as he could when it was time to sing.

During the sermon, he drew the banners decorating the church.

During communion, he received a blessing.

After the service, he proudly displayed his day’s drawing on the church bulletin board.

There is an entire section of the board reserved for his creations.

I don’t know about you,

But I think that all of this is beautiful.

 

I also observed this:

 

As a musician,

I appreciate holding a hymnal and following the music.

As an educator, I appreciate the same.

Children, in general, have trouble tracking.

Therefore, to put lyrics on a screen and expect them to follow is unrealistic.

In my opinion, it takes away from their ability to participate in worship.

[And this opinion doesn’t even address what children are losing music educationally by not having music to follow…]

 

I know.

There are a lot of worship debates.

Hymns vs. choruses.

Choir vs. praise team.

Hymn books vs. screens.

Bulletins vs. none.

Community worship vs. separate children’s worship.

And I know they can’t easily be solved.

 

But what I learned yesterday is this:

Children can participate in community worship

If there is something tangible to guide them.

I am thankful that I was part of that something tangible yesterday,

And I am humbled by the raw simplicity of a 7-year-old’s worship.

 

“I love you, God” is what my 7-year-old drew on his paper yesterday.

 

I love you, God, is how I end this note today.

Illusion of Safety

I’ve had principals who didn’t go to work very often; I’ve had principals who work every day.

 

I’ve had principals who rarely came out of their office; I’ve had principals who are in hallways and classrooms almost all day.

 

I’ve had principals who led with lots of words but few actions; I’ve had principals who lead with lots of actions and few words.

 

I’ve had principals who left school before duty was over; I’ve had principals who intentionally assign themselves to duty so that they can be a familiar face to parents as well as students.

 

The latter is what happened to me for car duty this year. My principal WANTED to do car duty. He WANTED to put himself in the elements to input the names onto the afternoon car rider sheet. He WANTED to do my beloved job…and so…I’m now the Stop Sign Holder.

 

For the first couple of weeks, both the parents and I struggled with this change in afternoon car rider procedure. I had many parents tell me that they missed me and I was able to say in return that I missed them back.

 

As I stood holding the stop sign, I often felt that I was just an illusion of safety. The teachers in the middle only let six car-loads of students go at a time and they don’t let students move until all cars have stopped. There is a line where the first car should stop. Parents know to stop when their kid isn’t in the car. They know to go when their kid is. It seemed that the job of Stop Sign Holder job was pointless. It seemed that I went from being super needed at car rider duty to not being needed at all…

 

But then I realized that some people actually depend on the illusion of safety; they won’t go unless they see the word “go.” I realized that I can smile and wave at all of the parents and students as they leave. I realized that some students will roll down their windows just to tell me bye. I realized that I can still talk to some parents. And I realized that I can direct traffic when we have the occasional back-up like we did yesterday.

 

Yesterday, three different students didn’t see their names, so we had three cars backed up in line. One car is somewhat normal. We have a plan for that. Two cars is occasional. But three cars is almost unheard of! So I had to think quickly and come up with a plan…and that plan was to direct traffic around the stopped cars. It seems so simple. But it made me feel so important.

 

So I guess I’ve been reminded of a fundamental life-lesson this year. Every job, no matter how seemingly insignificant, can be important. Every role, no matter how seemingly un-needed, can be useful. The fingernail may not be nearly as crucial as the heart, but the fingernail still has a purpose.

 

As Romans 12:4-5 says: For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. 

 

I am but one member of a team, a body, and I belong to the others. As such, may I be the best doggone Stop Sign Holder there is! And may you be the best doggone whatever and whoever you are, as well.

Up On That Tree

Yesterday, once again, the liturgy of worship reached into my heart. This time, it caused me to remember.

 

“Holy, mighty, and merciful Lord,

Heaven and earth are full of your glory.

In great love you sent to us Jesus, your Son,

Who reached out to heal the sick and suffering,

Who preached good news to the poor,

And who, on the cross, opened his arms to all.”

 

Back up to my senior year of college. On 11/3/98, sitting at the piano in the chapel at Meredith College, looking up at the cross in the organ pipes, tears streaming down my face, I wrote:

 

Burdened for friends. Upset about my recital. Thinking about Cornhuskin’ (homecoming) and all of the spirit involved, wondering how many people are really hurting underneath the cheer…I can’t draw my image of Jesus on the cross—but it is so real to me and I want to communicate it. So this is it—that image—in words. It is my earnest plea for help—Jesus’ arms wrapped around me—up on that tree.

 

I see you there, hanging on that tree

I see you there, looking down at me

I feel your pain, I feel your hurt

I see your heart, broken for those you love

You’re waiting there, arms open wide

Like I’m waiting here, trying to survive

Oh I see you there, compassion in your eyes

I see you there, I want to come up

 

So you can hold me now

Put your arms around me

‘Cause I need you now

Like I’ve never needed you before

I need you now to help me bear this load

 

I see you there, hanging alone

Like I see me here, feeling alone

I turn from you, head hanging low

But you reach for me, You take my hand

So I slowly climb, up on that tree

A child again, held by a friend

Your blood on my skin, I put it there

My sin on you, but you don’t care

 

You just hold me now

Put your arms around me

‘Cause I need you now

Like I’ve never needed you before

And you need me now

To let you bear this load

 

“Who, on the cross, opened his arms to all.”

 

Amen.

And amen.

Enough

Recently, I’ve been thinking about the difference between “being good enough” and “being enough.” I suppose it’s a very fine line, but, to me, one implies inherent self-worth and value while the other implies action, word, deed, or behavior.

 

I suppose that’s why my Forever Young Authors Entry came out like it did. The theme was “Building and Designing The Future.” I knew that I wanted to write about being a teacher—because teachers build and design the future every day—but I didn’t know that I needed to write about being enough.

 

Here is what I wrote:

 

But am I enough? I often wonder

Under the pressure of

It all.

Life is so big. I am so small: But even a

Dim light

In a dark 

Night shines bright. I

Give selflessly. I

Take so that others might give. I am a

Harbor of safety. I love. But am I

Enough?

For to teach is not to prosper or move

Up in wealth or status.

To teach is not to gain worldly respect. And yet: Nothing is more

Useful than instilling knowledge, wisdom, and values. Nothing is more important than

Raising the future. And so: Yes! I am

Enough. And I will always be enough.

 

What would you have written had you been tasked with writing about building and designing the future? Better yet, what do you think is the difference between “being enough” and “being good enough.” Is there a difference? And do you think you are both, either, or neither?

 

Dear God: You created humanity and called us good. Help us to rest in that goodness and to honor and glorify you with our very lives. Help us to know that the work you lead us to do—however seemingly trivial—is enough and that when we are doing our best to follow you and live in Love then we are doing what is good enough. You are God. And you are good. And we are yours. Thank you. Amen.

Status Quo Bias and Mental Health

 

Yesterday was World Mental Health Awareness Day. It was also the day that I first heard the term “status quo bias.”

 

Very simply, status quo bias refers to the natural human tendency for people to prefer that things stay the way they are—even if change is wanted, needed, or felt called for on a spiritual level.

 

Even though it is often irrational, our status quo bias tells us that sticking to choices that have worked in the past is a safe and less difficult decision than change…because change is hard and inevitably comes with loss and grief…

 

In 2007, I was living with undiagnosed Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder. I was going through the motions of life—working, going to Divinity School, leading retreats, devoting my life to serving others in the name of Christ—outwardly excelling but inwardly falling apart. I carried deep hurt, shame, grief, and self-judgment, and my inner dialogue was very damning. Time and time again, friends would suggest that I see a therapist, but my status quo bias wouldn’t let me…

 

Until…

 

I reached rock bottom and found the courage to seek help.

 

And help changed my life.

 

Has it been easy? No.

 

Has it been quick? No.

 

Has there been grief in letting go of old patterns, routines, and scripts? Yes.

 

Am I still in therapy? Yes.

 

Do I take medication? Yes.

 

Is my faith weak? No.

 

Do I think that God works through modern medicine? Yes. Anxiety and Depression are no joke.

There are true chemical imbalances that sometimes need regulation help.

 

Does my status quo bias still resist change? Yes.

 

Will my status quo bias always resist change? Yes. That’s how we’re wired.

 

But will I let either my mental health or status quo bias go unchecked in the future? No.

 

I hope you won’t either.

 

Dear God: Help us to make changes when we need to make them, even if our status quo bias is screaming at us—especially if the changes involve our mental health. You have given us bodies, minds, and souls. Help us to take care of them—always. Amen.   

Representative

 

I’ve been teaching mariachi music for the past two weeks.

For those who don’t know:

Mariachi music is music that originated in Mexico

And has five main instruments:

The guitarrón, vihuela, guitar, violin, and trumpet.

(Ever so often, you’ll see a harp, but a harp is not necessary for mariachi.)

 

Even if you aren’t familiar with music,

Then you’ve probably heard of and seen a guitar, violin, and trumpet in your lifetime.

They are all common instruments,

Originating from Europe,

And played in a variety of musical settings.

 

The guitarron and vihuela, however, are specific to mariachi music.

They originated in Mexico,

Are instruments of the people,

And are much less common than the guitar, violin, and trumpet.

 

So when I showed a video clip demonstrating mariachi instruments to my students

And the video didn’t include the trumpet or violin,

I asked my students why they thought the video left out the violin and trumpet.

I was expecting them to say because they’re more common, or

Because they’re used in other types of music.

I wasn’t, however, expecting anyone to say 

Because they aren’t representative of mariachi.

 

Whoa! Wow! Bam!

What an amazing answer!

I, myself, had not been so perfectly specific in my language as to say

Because they aren’t representative of mariachi.

But that’s exactly what I was trying to teach my students.

The guitarron and vihuela?

Representative of mariachi.

The banjo and mandolin?

Representative of bluegrass.

The string family of instruments (violin, viola, cello, and bass)?

Representative of the orchestra.

 

Me?

Representative of…

And therein lies the question.

What do I represent?

If a video were being made of my life,

What would the video’s subject matter be?

Would it be faith, hope, and love?

Or would it be doubt, pessimism, and hate?

Would it be the fruits of the spirit?

Or would it be the fruits of this world?

Would it be Jesus?

Or would it be a selfish me?

 

Oh God: May my life be representative of you, for You Are Love. Amen. 

No Shoes

 

What is the dumbest or most ridiculous thing you’ve done lately—either intentionally or unintentionally?

 

For me, hands down, it was unintentionally leaving my house with no shoes!

 

Let me explain.

 

I got my new bifocals on Thursday. They made me sick on Thursday night and Friday, but I knew that I had to try to get used to them, so I decided to try to them on Saturday—only I left them in my car on Friday night.

 

Not wanting my eyes to have to adjust from my old glasses to the new, I left off my glasses while I got ready. I carefully did my bathroom routine, got dressed, went downstairs, made my breakfast, talked to mom and dad, got my wallet, keys, and phone, made my way to my car, and put on my new glasses.

 

I was relieved that I didn’t immediately feel sick and happily drove off to meet a friend for coffee.

 

About half way into the twenty-minute drive, I noticed that I didn’t have on shoes. Thinking I had just slipped them off, I felt around for them. No shoes. Then I realized what I had done: I had forgotten to put on shoes!

 

In my blind haste, I skipped that step of getting ready! In my anxious state, I was so focused on the top of my body that I forgot the bottom!

 

My plan was to meet my friend for coffee, go shopping, and take Cracker Barrel food home for mom and dad. Without shoes, my plan wasn’t possible!

 

Thankfully, the coffee shop wasn’t crowded and the owners let me sit in the corner with no shoes. But after that? I found a drive-thru, went straight home, and then laughed hysterically with my mom when I told her what I’d done.

 

So again, I ask you: What is the dumbest or most ridiculous thing that you’ve done lately—either intentionally or unintentionally?

 

Please share. I need to know that I’m not the only one 😊.

 

A Rough Start

 

I must confess, the beginning of this school year was rough.  

 

The transition out of summer was especially difficult because I had a great summer and building my school stamina was especially difficult because, well, it’s always difficult. I’m actually still building it.

 

For the first week, I just went through the motions—my heart was not really in it and my head was not at all in the game.

 

But then I went to church and realized two things: 1) I am called to love my neighbor as myself and my neighbors are my students and colleagues, and 2) I was boring myself with my lessons.

 

My heart changed with the first realization, and my lessons changed with the second.

 

Some days are still rough. Teaching during Covid is far from sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. But I’m making it. And it’s things like this that keep me going:

 

Teaching Mariachi music and watching my Hispanic students’ eyes light up when they hear their own language and recognize something from their culture. “I love this stuff!” one kid exclaimed this week, and it warmed my heart.

 

Passing around instruments and watching my students experience them. Most of them will not continue with music after elementary school, but all of them (if they stay with me from Kindergarten to 5^th grade) will have at least held a trumpet, trombone, flute, clarinet, saxophone, violin, mandolin, and guitar (and seen, in person, the French horn and banjo) once in their lives.

 

Being asked questions I don’t know the answers to—especially questions of how a composer or musician died! I have no idea why kids are so fascinated with people’s deaths, but they are. They always want to know if someone is dead or alive. If the answer is alive, then they are amazed and want to know how old the person is. If the answer is dead, then they want to know how old the person was when they died, how they died, and how old they would be if they were still alive. I’ve started front-loading my research to include these details, but sometimes I can’t find them, or I forget what I read, or I get one story mixed up with another…and so I get to show them how to do research…or how to do a math problem…which is always neat.

 

Pulling down the map and watching hands go up with stories and questions. Kids are starved for geographical knowledge. In fact, if I let them, then my lessons could easily turn into geography lessons due to student interest. 

 

Receiving the occasional hug or “I love you.” With Covid, hugs aren’t freely given anymore, but ever so often a student’s need for a hug will erupt and they will come in for the hug. That happened yesterday with a student who used to be one of my most challenging students but has somehow become one of my most beloved.  That hug was just what both of us needed at the end of a long day.

 

What about you? What keeps you going each day? Please share. I’d love to hear.