Love Your Enemy

 

One of my friends calls me Serious Dee.

I can’t fault her.

I AM serious.

I don’t mean to be.

I just think and feel and think and feel

So deeply.

It’s a blessing and a curse, really—

But I don’t suppose I’d change it.

 

Since returning from my European adventure,

I’ve been very serious.

Getting back into the swing of life,

Which includes a major, undesired, physical move at school, and

Unintentionally finding myself immersed in political attacks,

Has me feeling very burdened.

 

Yet through it all,

One scripture passage has been rising to the top of my consciousness:

 

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 

But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 

that you may be children of your Father in heaven.

He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good,

and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 

If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? 

Are not even the tax collectors doing that?

And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others?

Do not even pagans do that? 

Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5: 43-48)

 

Nowhere does this scripture passage,

Or any other passage of scripture,

Say that we should

Mock, make fun of, attack, or maliciously put down our enemies.

Love your enemies, Jesus says, and pray for those who persecute you.

Love your enemies, Jesus says, and greet those different than you.

Speak up for those cannot speak for themselves, Proverbs says.

Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God, Micah says.

Get rid of bitterness, rage, anger, brawling, slander, and every form of malice, Paul says.

Clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and invite people in, Jesus says.

Be blessed as a peacemaker, Jesus says, for you will be called a child of God.

 

Oh God: May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Modify and Adapt

 

Today is my 47th birthday.

And on this 47th birthday,

I want to share a little piece of wisdom that I received from Barb My First Art Teacher at the end of my 47th year:

 

We must modify and adapt.

 

When Barb and I first began our teaching careers,

We went to the local Walmart and each bought little tool kits.

The whole set of tools was only $4.98, and they were magnetic!

I can’t tell you how many times B and I have used our tools over the years.

Through all our schools,

All our classrooms,

And all our years,

Our tools have been with us,

Offering their help and assistance.

 

While my tools have remained in tact,

My toolbox itself has broken.

It’s a little blue box with a broken handle and latch,

But I kept it because it reminds me of B.

 

Well, I was at Lidl a couple weeks ago,

I saw a new black toolbox that I knew would hold my tools perfectly.

Not wanting to betray Barb,

I wrote and asked if she still had her little blue toolbox.

She responded that she still had the tools but that but she wasn’t sure where the box was.

I shared my sentimental dilemma.

She responded,

“You have to modify and adapt.”

 

And that was that.

 

I bought the black toolbox.

 

It’s no secret that I attach feelings to objects.

It’s no secret that I have trouble getting rid of things because of this attachment.

But maybe this year, little by little,

I will be able to modify and adapt,

To let go and move on.

 

God: Thank you for life, and thank you for another year of lessons learned and lessons yet to learn. Help me, God, as I continue to learn to modify and adapt, to let go and move on. Help me to use my time and resources in ways that honor life, for you are the Life-Giver who makes all things possible. Amen.

 

Distraction

 

On the Saturday before I left for this European Adventure,

My parents, aunt and I had a delicious meal together.

Afterward, as we were cleaning up, I heard glass shatter.

A Pyrex dish had slipped off the counter, into the sink, and broken into pieces.

Out of reflex, my dad had tried to save the dish, but he got to it just a second too late.

The sharp shards sliced his finger and left him standing there bleeding.

 

He immediately began to apply pressure to the cut.

When he stopped applying pressure, blood gushed from the wound.

It was hard to tell if he needed a stitch, so

I took pictures and sent them to our doctor.

She said, “Oh, that’s not too bad. We can’t do a stitch because of where the cut is located. Just apply pressure and it will eventually stop. But know, finger tips take awhile to stop bleeding.”

 

Just before my dad cut his finger, my aunt had dealt cards for the game that we were getting ready to play.

Realizing that we were not going to be able to play cards with a gushing finger,

We switched gears and played a game that dad could play with no hands.

Two hours of pressure and two games of Word on the Street later,

My dad’s finger finally stopped bleeding.

 

Sometimes, what looks really bad is not as bad as it seems.

 

Sometimes, when we are in distress, we simply need people to sit with us.

 

Sometimes, when someone is hurting, we simply need to distract them.

 

Sometimes, when someone gets tired, we simply need to help.

 

And sometimes, when we think something will never end, we simply need to give it time.

 

I’m happy to report that my dad’s finger is doing just fine.

 

It was just a learning journey to get it there.

 

Dear God: Help us to know when to act, when to sit, when to distract, and when to wait. Amen.

On Being Present

 

I recently helped a friend tackle a monumental task.

Though I spent all day at my friend’s house,

Sorting, cleaning, eating, talking, hanging stuff, and moving stuff,

When I left that evening, I honestly didn’t feel that I had done much to help.

There was so much we didn’t get done and so much left to do.

 

Fast-forward a couple weeks and my friend is still working on her monumental task.

Here’s the deal, though.

She told me that if I hadn’t gone to help her a couple of weeks ago, then she would still be stuck trying to get started.

What seemed like an insignificant amount of work to me was actually very significant to her.

What seemed small was actually large.

 

Used to, my biggest goal in life was to make a difference.

I wanted to change the world.

I would often get discouraged, feeling as if I wasn’t doing enough to make a difference.

I often felt like a failure,

Like nothing I did mattered,

Because no matter how hard I tried,

I couldn’t get rid of brokenness, heartache, and hurt.

 

Now, my biggest goal in life is to be present.

And when I’m present, I’m making a difference.

I may not be changing the world on a broad, sweeping, existential level,

But I am changing my own world,

And the world of those I’m with,

Just by living.

 

Will every moment be remembered?

No.

Will I even be remembered?

Not forever.

But while we’re here,

While we have this opportunity to live,

We get to influence one another and make a difference in each other’s lives,

Even when we don’t feel like we’re doing it.

 

Oh God: Help us to be present with and for life. Even when our presence and actions seem insignificant, help us to remember that they are significant to some and that lives are being changed and worlds are being shifted. As life becomes increasingly tense and we feel more and more overwhelmed and helpless, help us to remember that sometimes the smallest actions are the biggest and that even they can make a change. Help us to use our voices and our bodies for the good of all humankind, for that is what you have called us to do. Amen.

On Showing Up

 

Just as I arrived on family vacation, I received a text that one of my student’s mothers had died.

Her funeral was this past Saturday.

I had the time and availability to go, so I did.

I thought it would be good for the student to see a friendly face from the school.

Heidi the Librarian went with me and ended up speaking at the funeral.

The student’s kindergarten teacher was also there.

 

The mom was a nurse at the local hospital.

She graduated from the local community college and because of this was honored by something called the Nurses Honor Guard.

Two nurses dressed in traditional nursing attire read A Nurse’s Pledge, A Nurse’s Prayer, and honored the work that the mother had done in her life.

After that, one of the nurses rang a bell 3 times.

After the first ring, she said, “KP, report for duty.”

After the second ring, she said, “KP, report for duty.”

But after the third ring, she said, “KP, you have been released from duty. Job well done.”

It was very moving.

And something I had never seen.

 

After the funeral, we went through the receiving line and spoke to the family.

I only waved to the student because he was feeling very shy,

But I hugged the grandmother who I’d often seen in the car rider line,

And I know she was glad we were there.

 

I know this sounds strange,

But if I could create any job in the world,

Then I would create a job doing exactly what I did on Saturday:

Showing up and holding space for students, families, and teachers when they need it most.

And if I could do this as a representative of the local school system,

Then I could create a Teachers Honor Guard and honor the work of lives well-spent in teaching.

 

….

 

A chaplain to the public schools.

That’s my heart’s deepest desire.

If we believe in multiple intelligences,

Then we cannot ignore the spirituality within us all—

The yearning for something more—

The desire to connect on a level deeper than we understand.

 

….

 

20 years from now, I doubt my student will remember that his K1 music teacher showed up at his mom‘s funeral.

Then again, maybe he will.

Either way, he and his family were being held in light and love and goodness and prayer

On that day,

In those moments,

And they lived through them,

Surrounded by people journeying with them,

Connected to something so much deeper than themselves.

 

Oh God: Help us to show up for one another and honor one another both in life and death. Be with my student as he learns to navigate life without his mama. Help him always to remember her love for him and help her legacy to live through connections even she will never know. Amen.

Together

 

I recently returned from the beach with my family.

We were all able to be together for a few days,

To slow down and feel the ocean breeze and hear the waves crash,

To cook together and eat together,

To play games together and laugh together,

To observe life together and talk together,

To just be together.

 

As I sat on the shore and watched my nephews play sports ball,

I watched as they communicated with one another in hand gestures that I’m thinking they were making up yet somehow understood.

I thought to myself,

I wish this for everyone—

This knowing someone so well that they just get you,

This playing with someone so closely that you are understood.

 

Not all families have this.

Not all friends have this.

But when it exists,

Together,

It’s a such a beautiful thing.

A blessing.

Something about which to be thankful.

And I am so thankful.

 

Today, on this Independence Day,

I pray that you will find the freedom of being together,

If not physically,

Then emotionally,

Or mentally,

Or spiritually.

And if you do, I pray you will share the blessing with others,

For everyone deserves someone with whom they can be together.

 

Amen.

Carts

 

I bought a collapsible cart to go to Antiques Roadshow,

Only, I didn’t get to go to Antiques Roadshow,

And so I was left with a non-purposed collapsible cart.

Thankfully, Barb The First Art Teacher had been in the market for a collapsible cart,

So I was able to turn it over to her.

 

The day I took the cart to her house,

We used it to move stuff.

It was very nice.

Very practical.

And I was very pleased with the cart,

That now belongs to Barb,

Because I don’t have anywhere to store it.  

 

The last time I went to a hotel,

We used the luggage cart to roll our stuff to the room.

Individually, we were loaded down.

With the help of the cart, though,

We were free to walk at ease.

 

Every time I go to the grocery store,

Even if it’s just for one thing,

I get a grocery cart.

Chances are good that I’ll end up picking up quite a few things,

So it’s better safe than sorry.

 

“Why make things difficult when you can use a cart?” I say.

 

I wish that we could put our emotional baggage on a cart and

Roll it behind or before us instead of carrying its full weight on our bodies.

Sometimes, when we’re carrying the weight on our bodies,

It’s hard to see it for what it is.

If we had an emotional baggage cart,

Then not only could we see what we were carrying and make more informed decisions on whether we wanted to keep carrying it,

But we could also rely on something else to help hold the weight so that it’s not so debilitating.

 

Maybe counseling/therapy could be this figurative cart?

Or prayer?

Or healthy interactions with faith congregations?

Or journalling?

Or friendship?

 

I don’t know.

I just know that carts are extremely helpful

In carrying heavy stuff.

 

And I want to be a cart rolling person.

 

Amen.