Come Back, Just Come

 

April is National Poetry Month. In April 2016, I was cleaning some books and found a poem that made me cry. It’s called “Come Back Safely,” and it’s by Sylva Gaboudikan.  She writes: 

 

even to say good-bye

even if it’s the last time

even reluctantly

 

even to hurt me again

even with the harsh acid

of sarcasm that stings

 

even with a new kind of pain

even fresh from the embrace

of another. Come back, just come.

 

I went on to reflect:

 

When we look at scripture, we see that Jesus was the first person who truly saw Mary Magdalene. Jesus saw through Mary’s brokenness and believed in her as the woman that she actually was: a beautiful child of God. No matter what she had done—or would do. No matter how lonely she was—or would become. Jesus saw her and believed in her. He loved her and transformed her. Then he was gone. He was dead. And she was devastated—left with a hole in her heart where love and friendship used to be.

 

I am very thankful that I’ve not lost many friends to death. But I have lost many friends. When natural time and distance play their part in the losing, I understand the loss. I understand the seasons of life and that people come and go as one progresses along life’s journey. Because of my tremendous capacity to love and remember, I miss these friendships and think of them often. Sometimes I feel as if I have credits rolling through my brain, listening all of the characters from various points of life.

 

It’s when someone cuts me off that I find myself devastated like Mary Magdalene. It happens suddenly—possibly after clues of its coming—but suddenly nonetheless. Drastically. A cut. A nail. A figurative death. And then they are gone. Someone who has been a friend—who has seen me and whom I have seen—who has loved me and whom I have loved—who has laughed with me and whose tears I have dried—is gone. And it hurts. And it leaves a hole in my heart. And I grieve from the depths of my being.

 

For Mary Magdalene, there was resolve to this deep grief in this life. Jesus returned. He came back and restored her broken heart, offering such deep hope and transformative power that Mary Magdalene’s life and story would rise above society’s discrimination and be remembered for thousands of years to come.

 

For me, though, there likely will not be resolve in this life. For whatever reason, friends likely will not return. Restoration likely will not occur. And yet I live with quiet hope and open my arms and heart with unconditional love and forgiveness. “Come back,” my soul prays, “just come.”

 

Amen. 

Made With Love

 

I made myself breakfast yesterday morning. 

I made the same cheese eggs that my dad makes me every day before work,

Yet my eggs did not taste nearly as good as his.

Same ingredients, same cooking style, but completely different outcome

Because his eggs are cooked every morning with love. 

His eggs are cooked as an act of service.

 

Over 20 years ago,

One of my friends made me a ham sandwich.

On it, she put a slice of ham, a slice of American cheese, mayonnaise, mustard, and potato chips. 

It was one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever had.

All of the ingredients blended well together and the potato chips added a nice crunch. 

I tried to re-create the sandwich on my own,

But it didn’t taste nearly as good.

I determined that two ingredients were missing from my personally made sandwich,

And those ingredients were love and service. 

 

It’s not that I don’t love myself,

Although 20 years ago, it could be argued that I did not.

It’s that someone else is doing something for me,

It’s someone else sacrificing their time and effort, however simple, to make something for someone beyond themselves. 

It’s that extra little ingredient of service love that makes life so special. 

 

As we enter into holy week this week

And reflect on the last days of Jesus‘s life, May we be a people who follow in his footsteps and love others through service.

May we find small ways to lay down our lives in sacrifice 

Even as we know that Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice of his life. 

May we wash feet and break bread and cook breakfast and make sandwiches for one another, 

One moment at a time. 

 

Amen. 

Random Reflection on Love

There is a fierce independence amongst some Christians,

Yet God calls us to be the Body of Christ,

Intertwined,

Each with different functions,

All serving together toward one common goal:

Love,

For God IS love.

 

Love does not haphazardly

Discard differences or

Throw away challenges.

 

Love does not discriminate

By color or age or gender or status.

 

Love does not make swooping changes

Without considering long-term affects.

 

Love does not boast about its accomplishments.

 

Love does not gloat in hurting others.

 

Love is not red.

Or blue.

Or black.

Or white.

 

Love is not inciting battles that turn to wars.

 

Love is not money.

 

Love is not greed.

 

Love is not a business.

 

Love is people,

Real people,

With real needs,

And hurts,

And feelings,

Trying to make it in this world,

And, in America,

Trying to live into the creed

That all humankind is created equal.

Love is a choice.

And an action.

And an outpouring of a heart grounded in

Love that comes from God,

For God IS love,

And anything less than love

Does not come from God.

 

It is that complicatedly simple.

The Loving-Kindness of God

 

We worshipped through lessons and carols at church yesterday. 

This was somewhat counter-cultural since most people have long since put up their Christmas decorations and music. 

But it was a lovely service that included a lot of beautiful Christmas music and 

Some of the most beloved scripture passages of all times. 

 

Just before the official lessons and carols began, 

Pastor Ann led a portion of the service that served as the prayers of the people. 

I was following along and offering my solidarity in prayer 

Until she almost finished. 

She prayed, 

“(We pray for) all who do not know the loving kindness of God,”

And my eyes filled with tears.

We often pray for those who are lost or hurting, 

Those lonely or unloved,

Those sick or dying, 

Those poor or marginalized. 

We even sometimes pray for those who do not know Christ. 

But something about those words yesterday--

Something about not knowing the loving kindness of God--

Stopped me in my tracks.

 

As Pastor Ann continued praying,

I got lost in a litany of names and lives.  

I know so many people who view God as a God of harsh judgment and punishment. 

I know so many people who have experienced hatred, manipulation, and control in the name of God and can therefore not understand God any other way.

 

Truth be told,

I used to be one of those people myself.

I thought of God as a being in the sky, with a long beard and clipboard, keeping record of wrongs, and waiting to strike when too many transgressions occurred.

 

But that’s not God. 

God is love.

And the story of God and God’s people demonstrates this love time and time again,

Especially in Jesus’s life. 

 

So I pray for those who do not know the loving kindness of God. 

I pray that, somehow, they will know loving kindness toward themselves, 

And that that understanding will transfer to God, the origin of Love,

Then back to self and then back to God

In a never- ending cycle of love.

 

Amen. 

Regardless

 

A decade ago, my dad read something that profoundly impacted my life:

“I love you regardless of how well you’re performing.”

That one statement worked its way into my consciousness

As a statement

From God to me,

From me to God,

From me to myself,

From me to those I love,

And from me to those I struggle even to like.

It became a prayer that I prayed over the people in my life—

a mantra that I repeated until negative thoughts began to turn positive and

All I remembered was that we’re all human and walking this journey together.

 

Sometimes loving people regardless of how well they’re performing is challenging—

Especially around the holidays.

Sometimes we want people to be more vulnerable than they are.

Sometimes we want them to be more outgoing or friendly than they are.

Sometimes we want people to be more capable than they are.

Sometimes we want them to be more giving than they are.

We don’t mean to do it.

But sometimes we want people to be who they are not.

Which is not fair to them…or us.  

 

Oh God,

This Holiday Season and beyond,

Help us to love people for who they really are

Instead of who we want them to be.

Help us to see people as your good creation

Instead of who we have made them to be.

And help us, God, daily to

Remember, say, and believe,

In all its many forms,

“I love you

Regardless of how well you’re performing,”

Until we truly believe it and live it

In all that we say and do.

 

Amen.

Cowering in Fear

Don’t let her fool you. 

Annie is not a sweet cat. 

By all outward appearances, she appears sweet. 

She’s pretty and fluffy and soft and plump.

She even has moments where she’s very loving and 

Requests attention.

But in her nature is an attack cat.

I think her early days as a single, street mom were all about survival 

And I don’t think that three years of being the queen of the household has taken that out of her. 

 

On Sunday morning, I heard a skirmish. 

I knew it was the cats. 

Then I heard a bang. 

I knew that one of them had knocked something down.

I fell back asleep. 

When I got up, I noticed that the laundry basket was lying on the floor in the bathroom.

I remembered the earlier noises

At the same moment that I noticed a tail sticking out from behind the bathroom door.

Sigma was hiding behind the bathroom door, 

Cowering in fear.

 

I put the pieces together. 

Annie had chased Sigma upstairs. 

Sigma had tried to climb the laundry basket to get away from his attacker. 

The laundry basket had fallen and scared both cats. 

Sigma hid behind the bathroom door while Annie nonchalantly went and sat at the top of the stairs, 

Taking her place of authority 

And viewing her queendom. 

 

Feeling more secure with me in the room,

Sigma came out from behind the door and explored the bathroom.

A few moments later, I picked him up and carried him past Annie

So that he could be free from Annie’s jail.

 

I think sometimes we assume that people are nice, or doing okay,

Because outward appearances show us as much.

But, like Annie, insides are scarred by wounds,

Or simply a nature,

We just don’t see…

Until they say explode,

Fall apart,

Say something mean,

Or attack,

Literally or figuratively,

And leave us wondering what just happened.

 

I don’t want to be someone who doubts the authenticity of everyone and everything I see,

But I also don’t want to be someone who forgets that people and situations aren’t always as they appear.

 

I want to be someone who sees people for all of who they are—

Even when it’s hard—

And who knows how to respond to what I see.  

 

Sometimes with a love that stays—

Like my love for Annie.

Sometimes with a love that walks away.

Sometimes with a love that reports to DSS or CPS.

Sometimes with a love that fights back.

Sometimes with a love that goes to therapy.

Sometimes with a love that prays.

Sometimes with a love that harbors the refugee.

Sometimes with a love that sets one free,

Like I did with Sigma.

Sometimes with a love that chooses to put disbelief aside

And allows uncomfortable reality to settle in and

Grief to begin.

Sometimes with a love that simply cries.

 

Oh God: Give us the wisdom and discernment to know and love others for all of who they are…even if there are parts unseen…especially if there are parts unseen. Amen.

Gracious

I was recently talking to an old Christian camp friend about the

Hot button issues of

Immigration

The LGBTQ+ Community

Pro-life vs. Pro-choice policies

Racism

And

Sexism.

Fun, huh?

 

She made a comment that brought tears to my eyes.

She said:

These are the things my husband and I talk about.

We wonder aloud at how 160+ years ago,

The church was on the wrong side of slavery and

Ask ourselves if given a comparable space and distance,

We might discover that we’re on the wrong side of things now.

We finally settle on this thought:

When we get to heaven,

We would rather hear God say,

“You thought me more gracious than I am.”

Than

“You thought me more harsh than I am.”

 

I don’t know about you,

But in serving a God who deems himself “love,”

And throughout scripture welcomes the outcast

And loves the unloveable,

I would much rather be more gracious than I ought

Than be more harsh than I should.

 

The gospel of Jesus Christ is one of life-giving freedom.

We are saved from fear and damnation, and

Are given a glimpse of eternal life…

May we live as though we’ve been set free to love.

May we live as though God so loved the world.

 

Amen.

Missed The Point

 

If I read:

 

“No one can tame the tongue—

a restless evil, full of deadly poison.

With it we bless the Lord and Father,

and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God.

From the same mouth come blessing and cursing.

My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so.

James 3:8-10”

 

And identify as Christian,

 

But call people names,

Slander people’s reputations.

Laugh at people’s mistakes,

Dig up past failures,

Make fun of those different than me,

Believe and perpetuate lies, and

Focus on what is wrong with others,

 

Then I have missed the point.

 

God, forgive us when we miss the point.

You have called us to love one another

And to bless those who persecute us.

 

May it be so.

 

Amen.

Chocolate Pudding

I saw something on car rider duty yesterday that I can’t unsee.

A 4th grade boy,

Constantly dirty,

Excitedly went up to his 2nd grade brother,

Also always dirty,

And exclaimed with wonder,

“Look what I got in my bag!”

He was holding up a chocolate pudding cup.

He was talking about the bag of food that he gets each week from backpack buddies.

He was so happy.

A few moments later,

The 2nd grader asked Heidi The Librarian if she liked popcorn.

She said yes.

He then pulled out a bag of microwave popcorn from HIS bag of food.

He tried to give her his precious food.

And food to these boys is precious.

I know that sometimes they go without.

He explained that they didn’t have a microwave.

So Heidi took the popcorn with the plan to pop it for him and give it to him tomorrow for snack.

He was thrilled.

There’s a 3rd brother, too.

Older.

All three boys are being raised by a single dad who is doing his best

To raise them right

While working his blue collar job.

They may be dirty.

But they never stink.

They may be hungry.

But they are not neglected.

They are good, respectful boys.

And if I could,

I would give them

All the chocolate pudding in the world.

Cats

 My cats are weird.

(I think all cats might be weird.)

And they have such different personalities.

 

Annie Mae is spicy and aloof.

Sigma Ray is docile and loving.

 

Annie Mae will only eat turkey directly from my hand.

Sigma Ray will only eat turkey off the floor.

 

Annie Mae will only drink water from her personalized water bowl upstairs.

Sigma Ray will drink water from anywhere, including my dad’s cups.

 

Annie Mae will only eat cat food if it’s been freshly poured into her bowl.

Sigma Ray will eat cat food anytime it’s available.

 

Annie Mae refuses to let you touch her pretty, fluffy belly.

Sigma Ray doesn’t care if you touch his belly, his nose, or his tail.

 

Annie Mae stirs if you come upon her sleeping.

Sigma Ray sleeps hard and long and just keeps right on sleeping if you come upon him.

 

Annie Mae likes boxes.

Sigma Ray doesn’t know what to do with them.

 

Annie Mae likes to hunt.

Sigma Ray is a lover, not a fighter.

 

Annie Mae is calm and content with the ground.

Sigma Ray is spastic and curious and climbs all over everything.

 

Annie Mae knows her name.

Sigma Ray does not.

 

Annie Mae will sometimes respond when I say “comeeer, baby.”

Sigma Ray just looks at me like I have a hole in my head.

 

Annie Mae is a secret purrer.

Sigma Ray purrs very loudly and makes no secret about when he’s happy. 

 

Annie Mae has sort of figured out my schedule.

Sigma Ray has not.

 

Every day, when I come home from work,

Annie expects me to come upstairs

So she can sit beside me

While I do my blackout poem.

If I don’t immediately do this,

Then it throws her off, and

She acts out of sorts until I do.

I think this is funny.

But it warms my heart.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

My cats are weird.

And I bet yours are too.

Or your dogs.

Or your bearded dragons.

Or your hamsters or ferrets or snakes or cows or any other pets that you have.

 

Pets are some of life’s greatest blessings.

Amen?

And amen.