Judgment

 I went out of town over the weekend and forgot my black-out poetry books.

After my initial panic and disappointment,

I told Heidi the Librarian of my forgetfulness,

And she immediately sent me pictures of the pages we were supposed to be blacking out.

While creating black-out poetry on my phone wasn’t my ideal way of creating,

It allowed me to not break my two-year streak and to continue my discipline over the weekend.

And I’m glad.

Because a poem emerged that I needed to write.

 

…

 

Confession:

On Saturday night, I had just finished talking about a friend to another friend.

I was lamenting how we had grown apart and how our theologies had gone in different directions.

At one point in our lives, we were so close,

But time and work and experience have caused us to drift apart.

I wasn’t saying anything truly bad about my friend,

But I was still quietly judging them.

While I know that God is bigger than anything I can comprehend,

And while I know there is room for theologies that differ from mine,

I must admit that, in my humanness, I sometimes feel that I am “right”

And I don’t always understand why people can’t see and understand God the same as me—

Especially people I care for.

 

…

 

And then I sat down to write.

And what I saw was this:

 

“It is not for me to judge you.

I pray

I

Never

Do it again.”

 

…

 

Dear God: Forgive me. Forgive us. For judging. For condemning. For getting so caught up in self-righteousness posed as Your-righteousness that we forget simply to love. Help us to look for the best in one another and to spur one another on in faith. And help us always to examine our hearts to get to the root of our judgments…which is very often jealousy or fear. Amen.

Letter to GAD

 Someone recently told me that you don’t need medication for anxiety and depression—that all you need is Jesus. And while I am a wholehearted believer in Jesus and the transformative power of redemption, I cannot agree with this statement.

 

That being said, I recently added a new anxiety medication. Both Jes the Doctor and Joe the Counselor think that this is a good move because my anxiety level, even with my current medication, therapy, and spiritual practices, is evidently not normal and could become more manageable with the new medication.

 

Naturally, I was anxious about the new medicine. But I wasn’t anxious about the side effects like most other people would be. I was anxious about it making me less anxious. That sounds ridiculous, huh? But it’s the truth. I was—and am—worried about living with less anxiety—because high anxiety is what I know.

 

When I was talking about this with both Jes and Joe, I started crying. The tears came out of nowhere and surprised me, but when I was finally able to name them, I was able to say, “But what if the anxiety medication makes me stop worrying, and something catches me off guard?”

 

Both of them looked at me with compassion…and after a brief pause, Joe challenged me to do something that I am going to attempt to do here. He challenged me to write a letter to Generalized Anxiety Disorder, to thank it for its function in my life, and to explain to it that it’s time for our relationship to change. “But to what?” I asked Joe. “I don’t know anything different than what I’ve always known so I don’t even know how to imagine something different.” “Tell it that,” Joe said. “And leave it open.”

 

So, as crazy as this will sound to some, but as understood as it will be to others, here is my letter to Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD).

 

Dear GAD,

 

Thank you.

Thank you for how you’ve served me for so long.

Thank you for being that girl with a clipboard, sitting in a tree, constantly planning, and constantly on the lookout for danger.

Thank you for helping me pay attention to details and to think through all possible scenarios in almost all situations.

Thank you for allowing me to over-function and to do good work.

And thank you for the ways that you’ve protected me that I don’t even know.

 

But that girl in a tree is existentially tired now.

And she needs some rest.

So I’m starting a new medication that will hopefully help me rest.

And it’s going to change things between you and me.

I don’t know how things will change.

I don’t know how it will affect us.

I just know that while I need you to still be with me so that I won’t be caught unaware,

I need you, too, to grant me relief.

 

We are still in this together,

You and me.

Let’s just learn to work together more efficiently

So that I can be a healthy, whole person.

 

Sincerely,

Dee

 

Oh God: Thank you for working through modern medicine and for giving us people who can see our potential when we can’t. Help us to let go of the fear of the unknown and to trust that you have infinitely more in store for us than we can ever imagine. Amen.

 

And amen. 

Thomas The Tin Art Teacher

 Since October 2021,

I have taken seven Tin Art Classes from Thomas the Tin Art Teacher.

Heidi the Librarian has taken eight.

Since November 2022,

I have invested in the basic tools of the trade

And I have reworked one of the upstairs bedrooms at my house to make a tin art studio.

As one of my friends said the other day,

“You’ve stuck with this hobby longer than usual.”

And I have.

I suppose you could say that I’m serious about the craft.

And I suppose you could say that Heidi is, too.

 

Thankfully,

Thomas has taken Heidi and me under his wing.

Yes, he coaches us during class,

But yesterday he took his coaching many steps further:

He invited us to his tin art studio

And showed us tools and techniques beyond the beginner level.

He had an agenda that he wanted to cover,

But he answered all our questions.

He showed us his in-stock art,

But he remained humble at our praise.

We learned how to sharpen our tin snips and

That there are, indeed, tin punches that will punch a perfect circle.

We learned how to make earrings and bracelets and

That we wouldn’t be making either without a lot of new tools!

 

When we left Thomas’s studio,

We had a bunch of new knowledge,

But we also had new tins and some tools that he had extras of.

We had a wonderful time.

And I was so extremely grateful.

 

Thomas would never say this much,

But he is an expert in his field—

And his field is small.

There are not a lot of tin art collage artists,

So Thomas could keep his knowledge to himself

And presumably monopolize the market.

But that’s not Thomas.

Thomas is thrilled to share his expertise and to pass along his craft.

We’re just thankful to be the recipients.

 

Friends: We have a choice as to whether we hoard our gifts or whether we share them.

We have a choice as to whether we protect our time or whether we give it.

As the Ecclesiast says, there is a time for everything.

But may we lean more toward the sharing and giving

(When it’s healthy)

And may we celebrate life’s joys in cooperation more than thinking ill of others in competition,

 

Oh God: Thank you for the Thomas’s in our lives who desire to build-up rather than tear-down and who give of themselves for the betterment of others. Amen.

 

Through Jessi's Eyes

 We left as soon as we could on Wednesday.

Heidi the Librarian, Jessi the Spanish Teacher, and I

Went on a three day get-away to Charleston at the end of last week.

 

Jessi is from Ecuador.

It has become Heidi’s goal to introduce her to as much American culture as possible in the three years that she will be in America.

I get to go along as the ride’s chauffer 😊.

 

Charleston was step one away from home.

We crammed in three days of tours, shopping, food tastings, and visits to the Atlantic Ocean,

And Jessi was so very happy that she cried.

 

We were on a sunset/dolphin sailboat cruise.

The wind was blowing on our faces and rushing through our hair.

Dolphins were swimming in the distance.

 

The sun was clearly setting behind the horizon.

Jessi had never seen anything like it.

And I hadn’t stopped to appreciate anything like it in a long time.  

 

Seeing the world through a child’s eyes is a beautiful thing.

But seeing the world through an adult’s eyes that are experiencing things for the first time

Is an inspiring thing.

 

May we slow down and really see the dolphins and the sunsets.

May we taste our food and enjoy the aroma of what sustains us.

May we ask for help when we don’t understand what’s going on.

And may we treasure the people in our lives who open the world to us through stories and travel.

 

Amen. 

Thoughts on the SBC

 As most of you know, the Southern Baptist Convention recently doubled down on their view of women in ministry. I’m not surprised. It’s no secret that the SBC does not support a woman’s call to ministry and, more than that, that they have moved away from the Baptist tenets of the autonomy of the local church and freedom of scripture. While I am not surprised, I am grieved for women and girls who remain in Southern Baptist churches where they are constantly told, consciously and subconsciously, that they are not enough.

 

If I had continued on the path that I was on 10 years ago, then I would have been at the meeting where this vote occurred and I would have felt the heartache and oppression that I did for the three years that I worked for the Woman’s Missionary Union and attended the SBC Convention.

 

While I wasn’t prepared to leave my work with WMU when I did, and while I am grateful for the years I had with them, I am thankful that I no longer work for an organization that continues to partner with a convention that does not support the very essence of who I am: a woman. That continued sole partnership when there is so much possibility is one that I do not, and cannot, fully understand. My only consolation is that they provide a somewhat safe space for women in an otherwise damning denomination. To be a safe space is why I stayed for so long.

 

I am coming to believe that we do not have a singular vocational call on our lives, but that we, instead, have been called to walk on a journey that leads us from darkness into light. God calls each one of us to do the work that helps us along this journey, and I, for one, am thankful for the many people, including women, who have followed God’s voice in their lives, and thus influenced mine for the better.

 

Folks. Let’s let God do God’s work and let’s do ours. Let’s live into the possibilities of faith, hope, and love. The greatest of which is love. Amen.

 

Turtles

 I don’t know why we were talking about turtles,

But Barb-the-Art-Teacher and I were talking about turtles last weekend

When she shared with me this story:

 

Barb was leaving her house when she spotted a large turtle wandering down the driveway, away from the pond.

Being Barb, she knew that the turtle wasn’t a snapping turtle and that it shouldn’t hurt her.

Instinctively, she stopped to move the turtle out of her way.

When she did, she noticed that the turtle was covered in leeches.

She said that he had two really large, gross leeches near his neck,

And a bunch of smaller leeches on his legs.

Again being Barb, she instinctively decided to help the poor turtle.

She got a stick and removed the leeches from his neck—

Which she said was very gross and gave evidence that they had been there a long time—

And then she removed the leeches from his legs.

 

Now. If I had been a turtle with leeches on me,

Then I would have been grateful for someone helping me out.

But, this turtle was not!

Barb said the turtle gave her a very mean turtle look and hissed at her while she was trying to help.

She then called him a name and released him to go to “the next pond to spread his DNA.”

 

While Barb was telling this story,

I couldn’t help but think about the times that we give very mean looks and hiss at those trying to help us.

We usually do this in moments when we need the most help—

Like when we’re trying to build something but have it wrong—

Or when we’re lost and need directions—

Or when we’re distracted but need to focus—

Or when we’re about to do something stupid because we don’t know what we’re doing.

 

True. Sometimes people try to change us when they shouldn’t.

But oftentimes people try to help us because we really do need the help.

And oftentimes those who care for us see the leeches that we are blinded to feel.

 

Oh God: Help us to be grateful turtles when our Barb’s try to help us. And help us to help others with humility and a sincerity of heart rather than arrogance and a self-righteous spirit. Amen.   

Pharisee

 If I’d have been born a man

Over two-thousands years ago

In Israel,

And I’d have gotten to choose my own path,

Then chances are good that

I’d have been a Scribe or Pharisee.

Pharisees were religious Jews who practiced strict observance of written Biblical laws as well as oral/man-made laws.

Scribes were teachers of the law. They specialized in expounding on the teaching of the Old Testament and oral laws. All religious instruction was provided by the Scribes.

In many ways, Scribes and Pharisees were decent people.

They extended Jewish practices into life outside the temple.

They promoted belief in an afterlife.

They instilled faithfulness in the common people.

They made sure future generations of Jews understood the law and the prophets.

They were faithful synagogue attendees who offered sacrifices according to the law.

They were faithful religious leaders who sought to understand God and serve God by living a holy life.

They were devoted. They were committed. They were zealous. They even went so far as to create new laws to keep one from going astray.

They were doing the very best they could do to be in God’s favor.

I would have been a Scribe or Pharisee—

Devoted, committed, zealous, trying to live a holy life.

The question is:

Would I have let Jesus save me?

Would I have let Jesus free me from the impossibilities of the law?

Would I have let Jesus open my eyes to the world and see all of the many people who didn’t fit my limited definition of God’s child?

I’d like to think that I would have.

I’d like to think that I’d have dropped everything to follow Jesus.

But I don’t know.

Because it would have been hard.

And it would have been scary.

And it would have felt weird.

And the outcome wouldn’t have been known.

 

If I’m not careful,

Then I,

A 21^st century American female,

Who has grown up in the church,

Who has done everything I can to be a devoted, committed, zealous Christian,

Who tries to live a holy life,

Could easily become a modern-day Scribe or Pharisee.

 

Oh God: You have freed us from the law. Help us to live into that freedom and to see the world as you see it—not random, or haphazard, or without order, but with Love. Help us to get down to the heart of the matter even when we don’t understand it: Love. Help families to love family members. Help friends to love friends. Help strangers to love strangers. And help us to let you do the work of the transforming lives instead of thinking that we have the power to change anyone else. We try to change those we love through passive and aggressive means. We try. And we fail. So help us to stop trying. And help us, quite simply, to Love. Amen. 

It's Time For A Break

 Today is the last day of school for students.

Some students are excited about the summer.

Others are not.

Some will enjoy the academic break and not suffer because of it.

Others will not.

Some will have plenty of food.

Others will not.

Some will go on vacation.

Others will not.

Some will feel safe at home.

Others will not.

I used to not think about these things.

I used to just be happy for the time away.

Now I worry for the kids.

 

Yet it’s time for a break.

 

The kids are done.

The teachers are done.

Administration is done.

Everyone else in the school is done.

 

Case in point:

Yesterday I asked a student to put his water bottle on my desk.

He hadn’t stopped flipping it after being asked five times to stop.

He said, “Can I drink some first?”

I said, “No. You lost that privilege.”

He looked at me, unscrewed the lid, took a huge gulp, and then walked to my desk on his knees.

He placed the water bottle on my desk, staring at me the whole time.

I stared back.

I was thinking unkind thoughts about this kids’ future,

Until I realized I should be throwing love bombs instead.

So I changed my inner dialogue to, “Love bomb, love bomb, love bomb…”

Until he got back to his seat and broke the stare.

 

Did I mention that the kids are done?

 

And yet there is still good.

 

One of my fifth graders gave me a gift bag with a nice planner and

Native American tea bags and a smudge stick.

He is an American Indian himself,

And he and his family know how much I respect Native culture.

His gift is one of the most thoughtful student gifts I’ve ever received.

 

Another student presented me with a $25 gift card to Amazon.

If you want to know the way to a teacher’s heart,

Then give them an Amazon gift card!

 

And yet another student gave me four sample perfumes.

This student has very little to give. He is food insecure and worried about the summer.

And yet. He found something to give.

 

So there is good.

 

But it’s time for a break.

 

It’s time to reset.

 

It’s time to rest.

 

Dear God: Guide and protect us this summer as we seek to reset. Protect us in our homes and on our journeys and provide food to all who need to be fed. May we read. May we write. May we rest. And most of all, may we enjoy one another’s company and share these days with laughter and love. Thank you, God. Amen. 

God's Will?

 Many years ago, a friend deeply betrayed me. The betrayal was journey-altering and sent my life down a completely different path than I was traveling.

 

Was her betrayal “God’s will”?

 

Shortly after that betrayal, an acquaintance decided that he didn’t agree with my theology and used his power to impose his theology over mine. A door once opened to me became firmly shut.

 

Was his use of power “God’s will”?

 

Or were the betrayal and power play results of humanity’s interference in someone else’s life?

 

Did God rejoice or did God weep?

 

Did God even feel emotion?

 

…

 

The other day, two of my first graders were debating whether God cries. One was adamant that God does cry. The other was adamant that God does not. They asked me what I thought. I didn’t know what to say. I want to believe that God weeps, too. Jesus wept. But if God is always steady and never-changing, then it doesn’t stand to reason that God would be moved by emotion.

 

…

 

One of my blackout poems recently said, “I have my doubts.”

 

And I do.

 

…

 

Growing up, I don’t remember hearing that I am a beloved child of God. I remember hearing that God loved me so much that He sent His son to die for me. But that statement always implied that I was nothing but a sinner—poor, wretched, depraved, anything but good enough for God. I missed the part of the creation story where God called humankind good. And I missed the part of God’s story where God is love. I heard only the part of God’s story where humankind failed—where Jesus had to come and die for us—not where Jesus chose to come live with and for and through us.

 

…

 

We are commanded to go into all the world and share the gospel of Jesus Christ. When asked what this gospel was, one of the children in the children’s sermon yesterday said that it was that Jesus died for our sins. Yes. Jesus did die for us—for bringing in the Kingdom of God in this world. But isn’t there so much more to the gospel than Christ’s atoning death (and resurrection)? And didn’t Jesus tell us that he came to bring us peace? And unity? And love?

 

…

 

So maybe betrayal isn’t God’s will. And maybe power plays aren’t God’s will either. But maybe God helps us rebuild from both. And maybe God weeps when humanity works to stand against one another in judgment instead of with one another in love.

 

…

 

A friend told me the other day that she was praying for me—for strength, understanding, and forgiveness of the ignorance of others. I think I’ll pray that prayer, too—for myself and for those around me. And I think I’ll trust the love of Christ the Redeemer which passes all understanding and lives in community with God the Father and Creator and God the Spirit and Sustainer. Now and forevermore. Amen.  

The Free Choice Car Alarm

 I timed it over the weekend.

My car beeps loudly for 1min 45seconds

Before it gives up and leaves the driver to her own fate.

While that might not sound like a long time,

It feels like an eternity when you’re waiting for it to go off—

And it’s a whole lot longer than any other car I’ve ever driven.

“How do you know this?” you might ask.

“If you just put on your seatbelt, then the car won’t beep.”

Well, sometimes I don’t put on my seat belt until I make it to the main road,

Or sometimes I take off my seat belt as soon as I turn into the driveway.

In such cases, I hear the beep of protest.

I don’t know why I do those things.

I just do.

Or I used to.

Until I got Ruby Pearl and her alarm forced me into submission—

Into doing what is right.

 

…

 

We have a lot of alarms around us—

A lot of voices warning us of dangers to our physical or mental health—

Friends, family, doctors, advertising campaigns, the church—

All trying to steer us in the right direction—

All making lots of noise—

But all ignorable if we choose to ignore them.

Ignoring them may be a bit painful,

But we can do it.

We can choose our own path.

We live in a country that allows that.

And many of us believe in a God who gives free will.

 

…

 

I went to see The Little Mermaid on Friday night.

Ariel wants to go to the above world.

Everyone tells her no.

In a dramatic scene, her father forbids it.

Ariel, of course, goes anyway.

Disaster strikes.

But, ultimately, she gets what she wants and

Is given legs to walk.

Her father even says,

“You shouldn’t have had to lose your voice for me to hear it.”

 

…

 

A friend recently told me that her seatbelt saved her life.

She didn’t ignore the warning beeps.

 

A friend told me years ago that early detection saved her life.

She didn’t ignore the doctor’s voice.

 

Heidi told me Saturday that taping her work before nailing it wasn’t easy but that it kept her from messing up.

She didn’t ignore our teacher’s voice.

 

Yes, friends, we have free will.

Yes, we can make our own choices.

And sometimes those choices work in our favor.

But sometimes it’s good to listen to the voices around us,

And to let them steer us toward common sense.

Sometimes it’s good to listen to the beep,

Forgo the discomfort,

And do what we know is right.

 

Dear God: Help us to know when to listen to the voices around us and when to follow our own paths and dreams. Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s right. So help us, God, to know—deep in our hearts and guts—with or without the voices and alarms around us—and then to do the next right thing. Amen.