The Gift of Remembering

Yesterday was a regular day around here; Dr. appointment, kids playing, chores, and school work. I'm trying desperately to wrap my brain around computery things and discovering that most how-to's and tutorials assume a level of prior knowledge that I do not have, so I spent hours studying/working and have very little show for it.

At some point I logged on to the breastfeeding support group that I help run and found that one of our mamas had experienced the unimaginable, the loss of her 10 month old baby. That kept me preoccupied for much of the rest of the day. Not actually doing anything, but thinking about it extensively, considered ways to reach out, and yes, crying for this dear mama.

Josie often climbs into our "remembering spot" and looks through photo albums of Mom, but yesterday it just caught me in the gut. I'm getting to that grief stage where it is not constant, but when it occurs it is very forceful. And so, I sat with her, held my child, and remembered.

So between the frustration of hitting brick walls in my studying, having a grief day in our home, and the loss of this baby being on the forefront of my mind, it was a rather topsy-turvy day, emotionally speaking. Last night after a grocery run and picking up the kids from VBS, I sat down again to quickly check in on FB before bed. There was the little red flag notice that I had a message and it said a friend had sent a photo. I opened it and saw the beautiful photo I've shared here. 

Back story - after mom passed away, I was struggling with how to talk to the kids about the fact that her body was not going to be interred in a casket the way they may have seen in movies or shows. I spoke about this with a friend who I just think the world of. He has a way with words and a way of viewing things that I often haven't considered. He did help me out by talking through this and giving me some ideas. A few days later, he wrote to tell me that as they worked in their yard this spring, his family had planted a sunflower in honor of my mother. Yesterday it bloomed and he sent me this photo.

As I sat and cried, cried for this mama who is just crushed with grief, cried for myself and our family as we experience this very different kind of grief and trying to figure out our new normal, I also cried over this gift of love and friendship. This gift of their family remembering and honoring someone they've never met.

At the end of the day, we want to know that our loved one mattered, that their life meant something, that someone else in this world is holding space for them. We need to know that our loved one's life had meaning, and of course by extension, that our lives have meaning. Let me be clear, I believe in eternity and heaven, but for now, I'm a temporal being in a temporal world and the here and now is what really resonates with me.

We each need to know that we matter, that someone would miss us if we were gone. Struggling hearts often express, “no one would miss me if I weren't here, so what is there to live for?” And on some level we all wonder that. Will there even be a hole when I am gone?  We recognize that we are but a speck in the vast universe, but we have this immense need to know that our speck matters. That the speck of those whom we loved, matters.

One of the greatest gifts you can give to a person who is grieving is the gift of remembering their loved one-and letting them know that you do. So every February, I think of Ellen and remember her loss. Every July, I reach out to Belinda as she grieves her husband. Every time I see a giraffe, I think of Ruth's mom.

Tim has passed this gift to me. That sunflower is going to complete its bloom, the seeds will feed birds and some will drop (or be collected) and re-grow next year. And thus, in a yard, 3,000 miles away, my mother's memory is nurtured. Her speck is enlarged. My heart is healed.

Redemption: Reversal or Restoration?

Her face was pretty, and so young that I wondered at the age of the man beside her. A couple, new to the area, attending our church for the first time. When I introduced myself after the service, I saw that her face and her eyes did not match. Expressionless eyes, numb, windows to a soul that was absolutely shattered. She fumbled for a silver key chain frame that was attached to her purse. “This is my baby boy. He is gone.” The “older” man was her husband, his visage and bearing bore the ravages of the loss of his son and the burden of worrying for his wife.
As time went by I learned the story, and realized that both of them were still in their 20's. That she, a happy and hopeful girl, had been changed into a broken woman. A year and a half of uncertainty, a year and a half of mother-love and determination to sustain her medically fragile child, ended in crushing grief. That his demeanor was from the shell-shock he was trying to function through.
Grief, anxiety, depression, these loads rode heavy on this couple. Still reeling from their grief, came the pain of secondary infertility. Then pregnancy loss. Outwardly I hugged and comforted them; inside I screamed, “Lord, how much can someone bear? “

Fast forward and there are two other beautiful children now. He grows younger as the years go by, humor and wit in his eyes, a grin on his face, a spring in his step that befits a young man. And yet, a depth, a wisdom that comes only from having spent so very long in such a very dark place. She can laugh again; there is life again in her, adoration in her eyes as she holds her treasures close.

Still, there are days when the waves of anxiety come. I may get a text or a call. I tell her I love her and to hold her breath, to come up for air on the other side, this wave will pass.
There is no “fix” for this. No miracle that will turn her back to that young woman who assumed that life and family was neatly laid out, full of dreams, confident in the future. That girl died when her child did.
But I have been privileged to see over the past 7 years this broken woman turn into something else, something deeper, richer. A woman who can see pain, whose heart can break with others. I have seen her grief go full circle, and where I have held her in her brokenness, she has, in turn, held me in mine. She has a capacity for compassion that can only be born of being crushed.
She has not been “delivered” from the grief, from the emotional trauma; but has allowed (and is still learning to allow) that trauma to be the very place from which her redemption comes.

-----

“God, I've given you this over and over.”
“God, why haven't you delivered me yet?”
“God what am I missing? Am I supposed to be learning something?”
“God, did I do something wrong? This still isn't fixed.”

What if the answer isn't ever going to be what we want or wish for, or even what we have been taught to expect?

What if the miracle is not rescue, but it is redemption?

We so enjoy a good rescue story. We thrill to a testimony where God changed a person and then returned all that was lost. We term that situation, “success.” We seek that, strive for it, and when it doesn't happen, wonder why God did not move. But striving for this version of healing tends to make us focus backwards, trying to get back to where we were, who we were, instead of forward to where we are going.

My friend lives with anxiety and depression. She suffered a significant loss that changed her.
A false understanding of redemption could lead us to believe that without a “full” reversal - no more anxiety or depression- that this woman is not a success story, that she has not been restored.

We are shaped, sometimes irreversibly , by what happens to us, but that does not make us unusable. Redemption is not reversal, but it is restoration.
You might say, “but my pain was self-inflicted, my damage is from sin, from bad choices.” To that I say that the redemption is there for you too. Scarred, misshapen, it does not matter. Forgiveness and restoration does not always reverse consequences or negate the law of reaping what is sown. Reaping and sowing is a universal principle, both natural and spiritual, but redemption is far more powerful. Redemption is the idea that all of this can be used for good.

There are amazing stories and testimonies that can happen, and sometimes do. They should be honored, but they should not be elevated as the expectation. Because not every baby is healed, not every straying spouse comes home, not every bankrupt family finds a check in the mailbox, not every addict is instantly delivered. We rejoice in those stories, absolutely. But I suggest that the healing of a shattered mother is also a miracle; that the divorcee who remains faithful to God though their world has been rocked is also cause for praising the Lord; that the family who continues on, day after day, in the midst of financial crisis is also worthy of noting; that the addict who gets up, and gets up, and gets up, is reason for celebration.

God may, sometimes, write our story as a reversal, but he always, always writes it as restoration and redemption. Let us live and prosper where we are, instead of feeling like we have not yet arrived. Embrace the redemption that God has for you, focus not on the scars that remain, but the healing that they represent.

Grace Upon Grace

Josie got to choose a reward for sleeping in her own bed.  She chose fairy wings, wand, and tiara set from the $1Tree, one for Joy and one for herself.

I took her to pick the items out and she was so excited. She had told Joy that she was getting her a surprise but not what it was.  When we got home, she proudly presented Joy her fairy gear and they played for quite a while.
 That evening, Josie wanted to play again, but Joy was doing something else.  Josie was angry about this and then when Joy also did some other minor offense (sitting where she had been sitting for the previous 20+ minutes...) Josie yelled and shouted, and finally, hit her. Hard. With the plastic fairy wand.  Screams and cries abounded from both parties.   I comforted the wounded and confronted the attacker.  The immediate consequence of course was that the wand went to time out and Josie went to time in.

In an effort to get away from me, Josie pleaded “potty” and I let her go.  I stood outside and listened to her wail and rail against me, life, and the universe in general.  When she was finished and came out,  I opened my arms, thinking that perhaps she was ready to hug and talk. Instead she had a “look” and rushed past me to hide.
I went into the bathroom and saw that she had unrolled and put into the toilet, an entire roll of TP.   I went to her and told her that she was allowed to be angry, but not allowed to hit and not allowed to be destructive.  I asked her who she thought was going to clean that out?  “Not me” she said.  Wrong answer.   I told her it would indeed be her.  That she was going to put on gloves and get it out.
“I don't have gloves”, she protested...my reply,   “Guess what?  I do!”

So she followed me as I went to the guest room closet and got the plastic gloves.  I pulled out two for her and then pulled out two more.  “You are going to help me?”  her voice was both surprised and hopeful.   “Of course I'm going to help you. I love you. You are my kid.”

We went back into the bathroom, I put the giant glove on her tiny hand and had her pull out a token amount of the toilet paper.  I of course finished the job and we got the toilet to where it could safely flush.

As we washed up and went out, she was much quieter, but not completely over it all.  You could almost see the anger stir back up in her.  “Well, I'm NOT going to say sorry!”

“I don't want you to say 'sorry', why would I want you to lie?”

Then she started to cry-an angry cry.  “If I say I'm sorry, then I'll be lying and then I'll be in MORE trouble!  My wand is going to be in time out forever!!    And anyway (crying in earnest now) I'm HUNGRY!”

Oops, my bad... I realized that with the way the evening had gone, everyone off in different directions, she had not had a good dinner.  I stood up and told her that I would help her get some food, found some leftovers and quickly heated them up.  When she sat down to eat, I sat with her.
She again protested that she still wasn't sorry, almost trying to convince herself at this point.
I told her she would be sorry later, that when we hurt people we love, we are always sorry later.
She again began to list all the ways that Joy had offended her: she wouldn't play, she sat where Josie wanted to be, and now it was Joy's fault that she had lost her fairy wand.

I listened and simply told her again that we don't hurt people.  We use words, we can say, “I'm upset that you don't want to play with me!”   She assured me, “ Oh, I did. I yelled at her and told her I was MAD... and she still didn't play!”  (hmm... you think?)
Again, she went through her entire list of reasons why she had hit her sister and I simply kept saying, “We don't hit people.  We don't hurt people.”

“Well I'm not sorry!!”  half-hearted crying between bites.

“You will be later, and then you can tell her you are sorry and you love her.”

“But I HATE saying sorry!”

Ahh... now to the heart of the matter.

Oh yes my dear, don't we all?   So much easier to convince ourselves that the other person deserved it and we were not wrong.

Then the negotiations.   “I won't say sorry...I will just see if she wants to be friends again.”

I reminded her that when she feels hurt, she is pretty insistent on an apology...We have all been recipients of her demand to, ”Say you're sorry!!”

“What if she doesn't forgive me?”

“Joy loves you SO much, she does everything for you, she will forgive you.”

“But what if she doesn't?”

“She will.  Remember when you forgave me?”  I reminded her of a recent time when I had apologized to her for something.  “She really, really, loves you.  We want to forgive people we love.  I bet she is waiting right now to forgive you.   Why don't you go say, 'I'm sorry, I should not have hit you. Will you be friends?  Do you want to share some cake?”

Tears again... but different tears.  “Oh, I can't think about eating cake with her after what I did!”

One more assurance that she would be forgiven and the cake gladly shared.

“Will you  come with me?”

“I didn't help you hit her, I'm not going to apologize for you.”

“Just walk up there with me. You will stay outside the door.”

So of course I did.
I walked upstairs with her and in she went.  She did shut the door so I do not know what she said.
A moment later the door burst open, “She forgives me!”
Door shut again.
Open again with an excited, “She wants to be friends again!!”
Door shut.
Open again, “and she want to have cake with me, and she let me hug her!”
Eyes still wet with tears but shining  brightly with the joy of being forgiven and accepted by her loved one.

I headed back downstairs and she came with me to get the cake ready.  “Joy will be here in a minute”,  she told me.

Joy joined a minute later and they sat close together, shared their cake, and then began to play.

Joy spied her fairy gear on the couch and said, “let's play fairies!”
“Ok!” exclaimed Josie... and then her face and voice fell. “but I can't, ...I don't have a wand.”

And then, grace upon grace. ”That's ok, you can use mine.  You will be queen fairy and I'm a baby fairy that hasn't earned her wand yet.”

*
This whole exchange took well over 30 minutes. Some would say that Josie should have been spanked or punished harshly and be done with it.   Some would say that she should have been hit with the same stick she hit with. I disagree of course, but am not going to argue that point right now.

I did hit her... hit her with grace, with mercy.  The changes that occurred in her spirit when she realized that I was going to help her fix the mess she made in her rebellion...these were the beginning of repentance.  She absolutely knows that wasting toilet paper is not ok. She absolutely knows that clogging the toilet is Bad.  She did this on purpose. 

But well beyond my grace of a parent seeing a teachable moment and grabbing it, was the grace of the sister she had struck: open arms with love, with forgiveness, with, “here, take my wand.”

There will be future offenses, many of them.  Josie has all the self-control of a typical four year old, which is to say, very little. But the lessons learned tonight are invaluable, foundational. Grace has a way of softening hearts that mere punishment can never even approach. She had it reinforced that mommy is here to help her when she makes poor decisions, and more than that, she experienced the utter peace and relief of being forgiven, being loved, and of being welcomed back into relationship.





Parenting notes:
-Comfort the child who was hurt first.
-Put the object in time out as a consequence and to get it out of  the situation. This is not about an object, it is about attitude.
-Validate/ help her name and recognize her feelings; “you were angry because Joy didn't want to play.”  Josie had chosen as part of her own reward to give a gift to Joy, and then Joy didn't want  to play.  Doesn't matter that she had played with her for a long time earlier in the day and it was 10 hours later, Josie felt rejected.
-Don't force an apology, no use making a kid lie about it.
-When she was ready, I helped her by modeling an apology she could use.
-This did not come into play on this occasion, but I also don't force forgiveness or words of forgiveness.
-She had to “own” her mess in the toilet and correct it, but was not punished separately for it. Of course we talked about it, “You were angry with me, so you chose to do something that you know upsets me.”
She did apologize for that later.  Even more importantly,  several days after the incident, she came up t me and said, “You love me even when I do bad things.  You get mad, but you are still happy that I'm your little girl.”   She had obviously been chewing on that for a while.
-I realized that part of this was my fault, she was legitimately hangry and it was late at night. She was kind of set up for failure/over-reaction.
- I did not give her wand back just because she had reached true repentance. Consequence is consequence, the wand remained in time out until the next day, just as I had originally said.
- I did not prevent Joy from sharing  her own wand and require that Josie remain wand-less  The wand was Joy's to give and the lesson there... oh I would never want to stifle that lesson! 

Review of "Plantation Jesus"

Well written and engaging, timely and relevant, this book is a must-read for anyone who sees the racial problems we face currently. It is even more of a must-read for those who still question what problems, if any, still exist.
Beginning with a definition of “Plantation Jesus”, an idol we have created in our own (white) image, the authors skillfully cover the historical aspects of religiously acceptable racism. The focus on improper exegesis that allows us to arrive here is clear to a layperson who may not have considered such things before, and without leaving the main points, plants a seed that inspires exploration into what other areas of our lives we may be modeling on faulty understanding of scripture.
The section on supremacy and privilege is a powerful expose' of what this has looked like throughout our US history, and what it looks like today. The reader is made clearly aware that not all racism is overt or labeled. The subject is handled masterfully, without making individual accusation, but at the same time, pulling no punches concerning systemic and ingrained attitudes that led (and lead) to oppression.
An open-hearted reader may experience a major paradigm shift during the discussion of using the word “Christian” as an adjective rather than a noun. What is a “christian” home, family, bookstore, or nation? What happens when the value of “faith and family” leads to idolatry? This is a thoughtful and careful dissection of the idolatry of nationalism. The book continues with an eye-opening look at the economics of modern day slavery in the form of collegiate sports (!) and mass incarceration.
Far from leaving us staggering from this impressive exploration of racism within the the US Christian Church, the authors begin to explore real options, real solutions. Not a symbolic diversity for diversity's sake, but an introduction to True Jesus, and how we can learn to walk with him. Practical ideas and resources for what this may look like both individually and corporately; ways to begin purposefully practicing this within your own local faith community.
This book is not only a revelation of the problems, leading to individual epiphany; but a proclamation of solution, leading to the possibility of real progress.

Buy it here

Expectations

I was asked a few days ago, “who are you, what are you about, what is your voice?” In the moment, I stumbled to find an answer. Upon continued thought, I have some more ideas. 
I’m a wife, I’m a mother, I’m a friend, I’m a teacher. 
I’m a woman who has been through things. Pain, hurt, loss, joy, hope, love; these all play a part in who I’ve become. 
I’m a believer, but my faith no longer fits neatly on a coffee cup.
The more I’ve been shaken and broken, the more my faith has been stretched and tested, the deeper it has gone. As my confidence in religion has waned, my assurance in God has strengthened.

What is my voice? When speaking out for justice or standing for those who don’t have a voice, I can be a bit strident. And I'm not sure that I apologize for that.
At the same time when someone needs compassion or understanding, when someone is hurting or in need, I'm the girl who shows up with a casserole and says, “Well this is pretty bad, isn’t it? But, I'm here now. And we’re going to do this together.”
I'm not going to promise you that things are gonna get better, I’m not going to give you pithy sayings, I'm not going to promise you an easy formula- because they don’t work.
I'm going to tell you to adjust your expectations, but always, always, expect that God will be there.
Because at the end of the day, that is who I am, and that is my voice, my message. Life is happy and hurtful, messy and magnificent. You can expect both pain and joy, and above all, you can expect God.

The Beginning. Originally posted June 20, 2011

1 a.m.

3 twin beds.

5 people packed into the 8x10 room.

4 months of living like this, separated from my husband and my own home.

Instead of falling asleep to the sweet sounds of my children’s deep breathing, I’m trying to ignore the scrabbling in the wall and straining my ears to hear a clang from the kitchen letting me know I’ve trapped my quarry.

I’m tired, so exhausted that it is painful.

I keep crying out, “I just can’t do this anymore, I just can’t DO anymore!”  but I know it does no good. Not being able to go on is not a luxury I have right now; my body hurts, my mind hurts, my heart hurts, but there is nothing to do but just keep doing. 

The worst part is that there is no end in sight.  You can do a lot of hard things if you know that it is for a limited time. It’s when there is no termination date that it eats away at you.

I’d like to toss and turn but there is no room in the crowded bed.

The scratching sound by my head grows louder; I bang the wall a few times, softly enough to not wake the children, but hard enough to give the creatures on the other side of that 1/8 wallboard a message to move along.

I want to scream; I’d love the opportunity for a good cry, but I haven’t had a moment alone in days. In weeks.

I should pray.

But suddenly it all boils over and in my head I’m shouting,

 “Pray? PRAY?  Why? You know what I need, you know what I’m going through, I’ve been praying for months, why do I need to tell you again?” 

The exhaustion, the weariness, the pain, the loneliness, the frustration, the anxiety, the waves and waves of simply not knowing what to do; I’m overwhelmed and there isn’t a pretty little prayer left in my spirit.

I haven’t uttered a sound, but I’m spent.  I lay there, so tired that I’m honestly not sure if I’m awake or asleep.

And I hear it. I hear God speaking to me. “Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.”

What?

 Listen, if this were a story in a Sunday School paper, the voice would be speaking words of comfort and I would have a plan open up before me, a trail blazed, and the crooked paths made straight. But instead I get, “though he slay me yet I will trust him.”

Really?

REALLY?

God, what is going on?  We are trying our best, we are following biblical principles, we are asking for prayer, we are accepting counsel from godly people!  You are not moving!  You are not telling us what to do! 

I’ve always been told that when seeking God’s will in a situation you start by doing what you know to be his will. We are doing that and still nothing. The way that seems to make sense isn’t working out, and we are open to anything else, obvious or not, but the heavens are brass.

And in my heart I hear the reply.

“So all of your prayer, all of your ‘following biblical principles’, all of your doing the right thing, this is all to force my hand?”

No! of course not!  But isn’t that the way it works?  If we honor you, you’ll take care of us?

 “So I’m a vending machine.  You put in enough prayers and obedience and I spit out the answer you like?”

No, Lord, that’s not fair!  You see my heart and you know I’m doing what I’m doing out of love and obedience.  But everyone keeps telling us to just hold on and God will come through with an answer, everyone keeps assuring us that you have a plan and that in the right time, it will all work out. That is what I’m waiting for.  And God, you know, you see that I’m so tired. I’m done. I’m spent. I’m just… I just CAN’T!

Again I hear, but more gently this time, “Jody, are you more deserving than others?  Are you living more ‘biblically’ than my children in persecuted countries?  Surely if I owed anyone some answers, some favor, it would be those who have served me with their very blood?

I do have a plan for you, for your family, for this whole situation, and that plan is for good and not for evil.  But it is good that only I see.  My thoughts are far higher than your thoughts. My ways are above your ways.”

I’m sobbing now.

“What if my plan is not to ‘deliver’ you from this situation but to simply let you walk through it? No matter how long that walk is?  Do you still trust me?  Is that good enough for you? Will you still walk in obedience and follow the principles I’ve set for you if there is no promise of an earthly payout?”

My soul is being shredded, if this is a dream, let me wake up; if I’m awake, please God, let me fall asleep and get some rest.

“Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.”

Taken in context of the verses before and after it, Job 13:15 is even more powerful.  It is a man saying, “I’ve done what I know is right, I stand clear in my conscience before God, and I have decided that if he finishes me off, I still trust Him, and when I stand before him, I’m going to say, ‘I did what I knew to do.’”

I reached a breaking point that night.

 I will continue to do what is right to the best of my knowledge. I will continue to follow God’s known will that he has shown us in the scripture. I will continue to seek an answer and to be ready to change course when and if God shows us a new course to take.  Meanwhile, I just have to trust him.

 This is NOT the answer I want!

I want my wonderfully romanticized version to come true.  The version where we dutifully hang on, and then relish in the lovely provisions that God lays before us, and finally, look back and say with satisfaction, “whew that was a tough season, I’m so glad it’s over.”

It’s a choice.

 If none of what we hope for happens, am I still willing to trust him?  Not simply continue in the same actions, but actually with my heart, trust in him?

That is something that I have to decide to do daily. It means that I can’t continue to put life on hold while I wait for God to perform the miracle of my choosing, I have to keep plugging away.

I wish I could say that since this happened a few weeks ago, I’ve had a great transformation and found a new strength. 

Unfortunately, not really. (I know, so totally not a Sunday School story!)

 I’m still worried.

I’m still waiting.

 I’m still tired.

 I still hurt.

I still don’t know what the next step is supposed to be.

 I’m still terrified at making choices that will affect my family for years to come and wondering what will happen if we make the wrong one. It’s been months already. It might go on for years. I sincerely can’t look that far ahead or it becomes crushing.

I will say that in one sense the frustration is gone-for now.  I’m no longer angry because God is being so slow in dispensing my reward. I have had my faith adjusted and while a bit chagrined that I fell into the trap of false hope, I am glad that God is long-suffering and willing to correct. I will also say that I would rather be walking in hard truth than in false understanding. 

And yes, I did trap my critter. 

Rain

Spending the afternoon in the pool with the kids.. it feels like stolen time.

My instinct is to hurry, to keep an ear tuned, to need to go check. But my time is strangely free now. Open.
I can stay outside all day.
I feel... relieved? Guilty? Confused? Nostalgic?
I feel frustrated that I never had this much time to spend with her. The very acts of caring stole the most precious bits away-time to just be.

Now it is raining, a crazy sudden summer rain, drops the size of nickles.
The kids laugh uproariously; and because there is no lightning, I let us stay out in it.

The rain is somehow wetter than the pool. Huge drops making bubbles and patterns on the surface. Water streaming down my head, my face, having to squinch my eyes against it.

I hear my child say, as naturally as breathing, “Dear Jesus, please give Mom-mom a message. Tell her I can swim without my floaties now.”

It's raining harder now, and salty.

Redemption

“If God is so powerful, why doesn't he ….?” I would  guess that each of us has either heard this, said this, or felt this, at some point in our life. The context is usually some sad or terrible circumstance that left the one asking feeling broken and hurt.

I would like to share a story of redemption. I do not pretend that my one story universally proves a point--although I do believe that God's redemptive power is indeed universally possible. When he doesn't remove the circumstance, he can redeem the pain.

My mother died. She lived with us for 7 years. Health up and down, but mostly down and declining. Usually the decline was slow, but she would occasionally have a big drop and then that would become the new normal until the next drop. The last six months she was quite ill, the last four months, on hospice.

5 weeks to the day after mom left, the mother of my dear friend and neighbor went to heaven as well. I was honored to be a part of those final days and hours.
________________________

I have a disturbing fluency in skills no one wants to know.
Rolling, turning, changing, adjusting pillows, crushing pills, filling syringes.
Taking minutes to dispense just a few drops, carefully, so as not to choke the throat of one who can no longer swallow.
Swabbing the dry mouth, relieving the cracked lips.
Setting the mood of the room, flowers, music, light levels, even scents.
Tone of voice, gentle touch, stroking the hair. Enough to let you know I'm here, but not enough to disturb or overwhelm.

The relationship with death. It is our enemy, but it is inevitable.
Can I come to a truce?
I cannot control the fact that it comes, but I can comfort how it takes you.
I will not let you feel fear, or pain, or loneliness, although, we all know that the last step you must indeed take alone.
At least alone from my perspective. I pray not from yours.
Loved ones, angels, God himself? Surely someone is there to take your hand in the moment I must let go. Anything else would be too cruel.

But now what? When life has revolved around care for so long, what does one do with these accumulated proficiencies, this unwanted expertise?

I have my family, they need me, but a different part of me. This part, with its particular set of skills, feels useless now, vestigial.

But then comes a call, “I need help, I cannot.”
It is ok dear friend, because I can.
I step up and say, “wait, I know this one!”
I will hold her, touch her, love her like my own. Stroke her brow, whisper endearments.
With practiced ease, I perform the tasks so you are free to hold her hand.

And in this way, I find redemption.
My pain becomes a blessing.
My grief is assuaged.

I have a lifetime's worth of skill, but only one mother to spend it on.
God in his wisdom, in his grace, mercifully gave me another.

time

At the end, time moves backwards.
 Years turn to months, then months to weeks. At some point we begin to measure by days, then hours... minutes, moments, breaths, and that final measure of time, heartbeats.

An entire life distilled down to the last heart beats.
At this point, words are useless; there is only touch, feelings, yearnings, groanings.

Did I say enough?
Did I do enough?
Did they know?


As if it knows it is about to be cast off, time bends in the space around this soul readying for departure, normal bounds do not apply. In those days, time stretches out, each hour lasts forever.
Nothing makes a minute last longer than counting breaths.
 20,
12,
7,
5.
Each minute an eon, yet not long enough.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, the light goes out. The next heartbeat doesn't come. The bird has flown, thrown off the surly bonds of time and space, now a part of eternity.


For those left behind the warp continues, for a short while at least. Hours and entire days, lost. But then, as if to make up for being slowed, time speeds up, unimaginably! What do you mean it has been 3 weeks? 6 weeks? 2 months? Where has the time gone? How dare the rest of the world keep moving... hurtling, along?

I held my breath as hers slipped away. And I'm still gasping.

I can not, I will not.

Please note, this post is written to a very specific audience.  If you do not consider yourself to be conservative, christian, evangelical, any labels along those lines, it very likely will not make sense.  For my friends who do not fit this profile, I encourage you to look at my post here.



This post began life as a reply to one of the many (far too many) articles that are urging Christians that they must, for the sake of  _____(the unborn, the Supreme Court, marriage, family, religious freedom, the right to bear arms, the military, etc. ad nauseam), vote for Donald Trump and defeat Hilary Clinton at any and all cost. I am in the minority and have been speaking out against this trend and this idea for some time. I have written other statements covering particular political aspects, but this is a specific reply explaining my religious/spiritual stance.


I was born in the Conservative Holiness Movement (CHM) , have been raised, educated, and served within the CHM.  These are the principles drilled into my mind, "Stand for the truth, no matter what."  "Never do wrong even for a chance to do right."  "Don't wink at sin."  "Sin will take you further than you ever wanted to go."  Was I not meant to actually learn those?

What happened to the days of,

"I want a principle within of watchful, godly fear,

A sensibility of sin, a pain to feel it near.

I want the first approach to feel of pride or wrong desire,

To catch the wandering of my will, and quench the kindling fire.

From Thee that I no more may stray, no more Thy goodness grieve,

Grant me the filial awe, I pray, the tender conscience give.

Quick as the apple of an eye, O God, my conscience make;

Awake my soul when sin is nigh, and keep it still awake.

Almighty God of truth and love, to me Thy power impart;

The mountain from my soul remove, the hardness from my heart.

O may the least omission pain my reawakened soul,

And drive me to that blood again, which makes the wounded whole."

Maybe I listened too much, maybe I took it too much to heart, maybe I learned the lesson too well? 

 I can not and I will not vote for, nor support in any way, a man with the ethics of Donald Trump.  It hurts you see; the pain to feel it near, the poke in the eye of my conscience.  This is not about his recent audio release. This is not me being manipulated by the media taking certain bits out of context. This is about a lifetime of building his kingdom by stepping on people. It is about the lack of ethics, it is about the inciting of violence at his rallies, it is about racial profiling, about not valuing the life of people who aren't just like him.  It is about him seeing humans as pawns to be used.

Many things in the scripture can be confusing.  But some things are not; the essentials don't seem to be confusing.
I am told in the scripture, "He has shown thee, oh man, what is good, and what the Lord requires of thee, to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with they God."(Micah 6:8, paraphrase)  --Trump neither does these things nor shows that he values those who do.
I am told to Love God and to Love my neighbor as myself. (Matthew 22:37-39) I'm not so fussed about Trump not loving God- many people do not love God, but all major moral codes call for loving others.  Trump does not ascribe to this either.
I am told that by clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, visiting the sick and imprisoned, and welcoming the stranger, I am literally serving God. (Matthew 25:35-45)  Trump actively seeks to prevent this.  He steps on the backs of the least of these. And he does so with glee and abandon.

Do you see? this is not about Hilary or if she is worse. If I were surrounded by a church world who from my youth told me to eschew evil and seek after good and they were supporting Hilary, I would be writing this article about her.

This is about me as an individual voting for him. 
This is  about me ever saying that I could support any party or platform that would support him. Breaking it down to the party or the platform doesn't excuse it for me.  I guess memorizing Proverbs 4:14-19 (and all those other Proverbs about not throwing my lot in with the wicked) has ruined me.
This is me asking the church leaders why they taught me one thing, why they had me found my very life on something, and now they want me to change. 
It won't work. You did too good of a job.  I have matured, life has driven the lessons home.   My beliefs have evolved from merely something I was taught to something I believe, hold dear, and am not willing to give up. 


The division coming forth right now, the unutterable damage to the reputation of Christianity, of conservatism, of everything we have ever stood for, it is unfathomable. 
The tiny, vocal minority are being blamed, being vilified, in fact, being threatened. 
Not for changing our minds or becoming heretical, no, for merely standing right where the church has stood.
 For not laying down our witness. 
For realizing that sacrificing our credibility  to share the gospel in exchange  for "winning" a temporal election is a ludicrous trade-off.

I feel as though I'm watching everything I've ever been taught be flushed down the toilet by the very people who taught me. So yes, I'm emotional.  Yes, I'm hurt. Yes, the disappointment goes deep. 

But I'm not sitting over here like a stubborn child refusing to give in.  The very fact that the people I hold dearest are changing has caused me to turn to the scripture  over and over and over.  I have poured over political resources, I have cried, I have prayed, I have checked and double checked my reasons and yet here I am. 

For spiritual reasons I cannot vote for DJT. It will violate my conscience and my walk with Christ.

For missional reasons I cannot vote for DJT.  It will absolutely ruin any Christian witness I have, any light I have shone, any drawing others to Jesus that I have done.

For political reasons I cannot vote for DJT.  My research has shown me that the decisions of "conservative" SCOTUS are iffy at best and thus not a good enough reason.  Furthermore, DJT, even if he were a man of stellar character, has no experience to recommend him for the job. He's just not a good candidate.

For patriotic reasons I cannot vote for DJT.  I served in the US military as has my spouse and many dear friends and family members.  I will not vote for a man who says horrible things about honorable veterans who were POW or suffered mental injuries.  I will not vote for a man who will not only send soldiers into harms way with little reservations, but has boasted that he will instruct them to commit war crimes.

For humanitarian reasons I cannot vote for DJT.  He openly mocks and degrades people of other races and abilities. 

I could go on and on.  I will not.  I have many reasons, none of them arrived at lightly or flippantly, nor do I think I am gullible and have been led here (for by whom would I have been lead? the leaders have gone the other way).

Why can't I just shut up and be quiet about it?  Because, as  has been pointed out, "all it takes for evil to succeed is for good people to do nothing."  I can not do nothing.  I was taught to stand for right and good and Trump is neither right nor good.

Oh!  you say, but we must turn an eye, we must give in this once, or Hilary will win!! 
Then perhaps she must. 
But that is not my problem. That is God's problem.
He only told me to obey him, to defend righteousness. He did not guarantee that I would then "win" or get to keep my religious freedoms or continue to have an easy life. 
I see time after time in the scripture and history where people had to choose the right thing but still have a bad outcome.  That is another thing I was taught. Choose right, no matter what, no matter what others choose, no matter the outcome, leave it to God.

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In every change He faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend

Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

2. Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake

To guide the future as He has the past.

Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;

All now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know

His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

3. Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart

And all is darkened in the vale of tears;

Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,

Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.

Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay

From His own fullness all He takes away.

4. Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord,

When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

I need you to know...

I have had people question if I should be so vocal in my push-back against the Christians for Trump movement. That perhaps is is a bad example for non-Christians to see the "struggle within the walls."

Believe me, I have thought and prayed about this and have come to the conclusion that yes, I do need to be very vocal about it. It is precisely because I have such a variety of friends, many not Christian, and some not of any religion, that I think I must be so vocal.

It is important for me (not as a matter of pride, but as a matter of defending and clarifying my faith), that you know.

You know I am a Christian, and that even though I follow Christ so imperfectly, that I do try, that I am trying.

I need you to know that first on my allegiance is Christ and his love, not the label of "Christianity" , and if the time comes to follow Him while disengaging from the 78% of white evangelical christian voters who support Trump, then disengage I will.

I need you to know that Christ commands me to love the poor, the stranger, the sick, the hurt , the minority, and the slave, and that I will be judged based on whether I cared for them. I am told that whatever I do for them, I am literally doing for Christ.   Joining forces with one who belittles and abuses them is not part of that.

I need you to know that I believe in bodily autonomy and that Christ's words strongly reprimanding those who would ever hinder the little children, that his defense of women in general and especially those who were the lowest of the social hierarchy, are evidence that sexist, abusive, and misogynistic behavior from anyone is not ok with Him, and should not be acceptable to any who call his name.

I need you to know that Humans Beings are God's special, sacred, creation and that I will support human rights before I will worry about "Christian" rights.

I need you to know that I do not understand or condone the many things that are being done, the excuses that are being made, by those who also claim the name of Christ. I confess to you my bewilderment at their actions, even as I acknowledge that I also fail so many times.

Hello. I am a Christian, my name is Jody. I am the same person you have always known. Quick on the temper but long on loyalty. Always seeking truth, always over-explaining. More interested in your values than your labels.

I just need you to know.

the Hope of Christmas

This time of year there is a huge emphasis on being “merry and bright.” In church the atmosphere is one of celebration, of glitz and light and joyful music, of triumph. Merriment and pageantry, festivity abounds.  And so it should!  We are celebrating God come to earth, the culmination of a promise given at the beginning of time.  The tree and the lights and the music and dance and drama and gifts have become part of the celebration, to the point of extravagance—and again, I am not finding fault, after all, how extravagant is it for the God of eternity, the Creator of the universe, to join his creatures for the sole purpose of death and resurrection and redemption?

My thoughts are simply this; to those who are bent and weary with burdens that simply won’t let up, those for whom grief and pain are constant companions, those who are quite simply, spent. The thought of needing to put on a façade of “merry and bright” can be overwhelming.  For them, the expectation of festivity is not a preparation for joyful ceremony, but rather one more task on hearts already so very taxed.  May I say that the degree of celebration is not a marker as to how much you love Jesus and appreciate the gift of his coming to earth?

I submit that it is every bit as worshipful, every bit as appropriate and genuine to lay aside some of the frolic and simply dwell on the Hope.  Jesus birth did not signal the prompt end of oppression. His coming did not bring immediate ease, the suffering of Israel did not cease.  In fact there were many more long years of war and turmoil, of persecution and tumult and being scattered. 

Jesus’ birth was the declaration of Hope.  Hope that in the midst of suffering God had not forgotten or abandoned.  Hope that God was not merely enthroned on high, but was present, he was now, he was sharing the pain, the hurt, the grief.  Jesus’ coming meant that there was Hope that the current circumstance was not all there is, the promise still stood. 

That promise stands today. He remembers the frailty of humanity. He knows, not simply as one who has seen, but as one who has borne, the fragility of our spirit and emotion.  And he does not merely remember!  He does not share our burden as one who can only sympathize.  Christ Jesus is unique in that he not only knows our infirmity, he has the power to carry us through it.  This is the Hope of Christmas. 

I invite you to lay aside the guilt of “not doing enough for Christmas” and focus on the Hope. The Hope that although suffering may not cease immediately, that you are not left alone in it. The Hope that though the burden is so very great, you are not alone in carrying it.  The promise that although your Christmas may not be filled with lights and pageantry and spectacle, your Hope is just as real; for does not a candle shine most brightly in the darkness? 

Do Unto Others

Even people who have never picked up a Bible love to quote from it, and while I don't have research to back me up, I think one of the favorite and most often misquoted/misinterpreted scriptures is some version of "Do unto others as you would have done to you." (The other most misquoted has got to be "Judge not that ye be not judged" but that is a whole different blog post. Or two.)  I have seen some pretty interesting takes on this; even what I just wrote above is not exactly what the Bible says. The two scriptures that  Golden Rule quotes are usually derived from are:

Luke 6:31 And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.
and
Matthew 7:12 Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.

There is so very much that one can say about these scriptures and the principles that are taught in their context.  I will not attempt to explain  exhaustively, or even partially what they mean. I would like to think for a few minutes about what I think they do NOT mean. 

My thoughts were brought here this morning by a friend's status update.  Basically, she tried to treat someone the way she would like to be treated and it didn't go well.  Story as old as time, yes? 

First, let me say we aren't responsible for how others act, only for ourselves. We can't say, "oh, they were mean" and then return evil for evil (how come the scripture telling us not to do that isn't on greeting cards and coffee mugs?).  The other person's action or reaction does not excuse me from doing what I know to be good. 

Secondly, and what I was really thinking of when I read my friend's status was this:  treating others the way we would like to be treated does not always equal "being nice."  This is a big pill to swallow, I know.   It has been drilled into us since preschool to be nice.  Especially as Christian women, we are supposed to, above all, be nice.
  
But more than "nice", I value being treated justly, rightly.  No, thank God, I'm not treated the way I often deserve (ouch), but our obedience to the Golden Rule doesn't mean we must open ourselves up for abuses.  
Don't forget Micah 6:8, we are to do justly and love mercy--this is what God requires of us.  I believe that within the context of mercy, within the context of "do unto others", it is entirely appropriate to treat people with justice.  This means that I do not have to, under the guise of "being nice", open myself up for others to take advantage of or misuse me.  I do not have to extend the same privileges of trust and friendship to every person in my life.  Everyone should be treated with justice (while loving mercy), but not everyone gets the same access to my heart/emotions/home/bank account. 

There will always be people who take advantage, who hurt us, who misuse us.  Jesus told us this would happen to even expect it and that we are blessed if we are persecuted for righteousness' sake.  But not all of our hurt comes from righteousness' sake...sometimes we are so focused on being nice that we don't think of being just. Treating people with justice isn't mean (although they may not like it). Doing unto others as I want them to do to me may not always be pleasant.
 
I expect that if I hurt someone, that I will have to work to regain their trust.
I expect that people will speak with me truthfully, even if it is painful to hear.
I expect that if someone needs to set boundaries or alter their expectations of me, they will.

I need to be brave enough to treat others in these same ways. 

cereal, soup, and dumpsters

Recently I've heard several references to "pick the meat and spit out the bones" or, "there's a lot of good in it, just ignore the other"  and other thoughts along this line.   I've been thinking about this and while I totally understand, I think that we need to use discernment in this process.

Analogies can be tricky... they can help make a point, but they can also distract from the point as you try to reconcile all the bits that don't really carry over.   I am going to hope that in the analogies that follow, it helps to clarify and not to confuse.

Lucky Charms

 This is where we cherry-pick and only take what we like in order to make a point, ignoring not what is questionable, but what is actually beneficial.   I would say it's like picking through the bowl and only taking out the marshmallows and leaving the cereal.   This is super easy to do and happens with everything from scripture to statistics. We need to guard against it not only in our own life (reading something that is whole and complete, but only taking in what is convenient or suits our agenda) and also in the content of those we choose to listen to. Are our preachers and teachers giving the whole truth or just the marshmallows?

Chicken Soup

...or stew, or meat and bones, whichever way you look at it, this is the "good" way to pick and choose.   I call it "chicken soup" after my dear daughter who loves chicken soup and can eat her way through bowls full of the stuff and at the end leave a whole heap of carrots behind.  The carrots aren't bad or harmful, they just aren't to her taste.
I own and read and use as reference many books that I don't fully agree with every thought the author presents. However, it's not bad or or harmful, and it does make me think.  Listen (or read) critically, weigh the information, and keep the good stuff. Even what you don't choose to "eat" has been beneficial in making you think through it (much like carrots giving flavor to the soup).  If we only read or listened to people we completely agreed with, our lives would be much smaller.

Dumpster Diving

Sure lots of great things probably get thrown away and if you went digging for them, you could find them.  But at what risk?  Rotten food, germ ridden sharp objects, and other items that are downright hazardous are also in that dump.  To me, this is like reading or watching media that has obvious bad philosophy or doctrine and justifying it by saying that there are lots of "good parts."  

The first consideration  (for me) would be, "is there a better place to get this?"   Whether the "this" is entertainment, advice, or information, is there any other source that wouldn't require so much picking through?   If so, then choose the other option, if not, then really look long and hard at what it is that you need so badly that you are willing to dig through putrid trash to get it.

Discernment is both a learned skill and a gift from God.  When we seek to fill ourselves with Truth, he will honor that and give us wisdom and discernment to do so.  

Philippians 1:⁹ And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and [in] all judgment;¹⁰ That ye may approve things that are excellent; that ye may be sincere and without offence till the day of Christ;

Proverbs 18:15 - The heart of the prudent getteth knowledge; and the ear of the wise seeketh knowledge

1 Thessalonians 5:21 - Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.

Unmerited Favor

Unmerited Favor is one of those "church" terms that sounds fancy but I don't know that I've ever really, truly, understood it.
Extravagant Grace is the title of a book I own (great book, little short devotional chapters from a variety of authors) but I have to say that other than a book title, it's not a concept I've really grasped.
Limitless Love, Boundless Gifts, etc, etc, all terms that we have used or heard used to describe God's feeling towards us, but for me personally, not something I've really ever had a good picture of, not something that I've experienced and thought, "ah ha, THIS is what it means.."  I mean of course I understand that while I was yet a sinner Christ died for me, etc, but to really own it... not really.

Until recently.

Have you ever been the recipient of a gift that you did nothing to earn or deserve?  Not something you could do for yourself?   Not something you will ever be in a position to repay?   Probably the closest I've ever come to this is the unconditional love I have for my children, but even that... yes, it is beautiful and a wonderful picture of God's love for us, etc. but it almost seems like it's cheating... it's built in, it is automatic, almost as though I can't help but love my children that deeply.  I didn't chose it, it just IS.

What I'm talking about is different.  Being offered a gift so ... extravagant, for lack of better word, being offered love that is so undeserved that it almost makes me feel odd to accept it, but knowing that to not accept it would be so incredibly foolish.  To know that if I take this gift, I can never repay it, never give the other party anything like it in return.  To know that nothing I've done, no service I've offered or friendship extended makes me "worthy" or deserving.  It's just there.  Given freely, no bond of blood or maternity, and all I have to do is say yes. If I say no, it is gone,  I can't do this for myself. The only way to benefit from this is to put aside my idea of needing to earn it, deserve it, or pay it back in some fashion, and simply accept it.

It is a humbling, almost scary thing to consider.

I know, you want to know what this gift is.  But that is not the purpose here, you see, what for me is The Gift that Makes the Gospel  Real, may be for you utterly commonplace.  The point is that for me, this is my need, my one thing that I utterly lack the power to do on my own. And someone else is doing it for me, freely.

To accept a gift that comes with no strings, no expectations, no preconceived notions, no way of earning or deserving, no way to merit this, no way to give it back, knowing that any feeble attempts to earn or pay it back will be futile; this is a difficult thing.

And yet I do accept. I take this free-fall into accepting a gift of love that is so big that it is almost overwhelming.  And as I accept, I feel like I'm seeing one of the most clear pictures of God's grace that I've ever seen.  I feel like I need to sit down and process this.  It is causing me to really look at my relationship with God.  Do I accept his gift of salvation for what it truly is, or am I still in some feeble way fooling myself into thinking that I can serve him enough to pay it back?  Am I as humbled and overwhelmed by the truth of the Gospel as I am about this gift from my human friends?
Lord, search my heart, know me.  And Thank You for loving me enough to not only give me salvation but to give me friends who serve me both physically and spiritually.

I'm getting it.
The unimaginable, unmerited grace of the Gospel, made real and brought home.
I'm overwhelmed.

Fully Involved

I have a friend who is a constant joy and encouragement to me.  (No, she doesn't come clean my house or do my laundry, although, if someone feels led, I promise I will blog about you too!)  The thing that makes me eager to spend even a few minutes with this lovely lady is how full of joy she is about God's redemptive power.  It bubbles out of her even if you aren't talking about spiritual things, and when you are, it just overflows .
The awareness of just how much God has done in her life is an ever-present light that just surrounds her.
She isn't merely grateful for being saved; no, she relishes in the grace that redeemed her, reformed her, made her completely new and fresh and reborn in Him.  The transformation is truly a beautiful thing.  She has her own testimony to give and I look forward to the day when that is written up and shared, but for now, yes, she lived in a deep, dark place, a place of pain and hatred and hurt, a place that many of us loathe to even think about. That is all past and is so foreign to the bright and beautiful lady I know today that it is unimaginable.

So this brings me to what I want to share today. I ask in advance that you stay with me, I understand that some may be shocked or even offended by the very idea that I would say this out loud, but friends, I believe that the Lord gave it to me a few days ago and I've been thinking about it ever since.

We all know that Jesus Christ came to earth and suffered a horrible, torturous death on the cross to pay for our sins. He gave his life and spilled his blood for our salvation and transformation. It is this miracle that my friend  lives her life daily basking in the glory of.  And really, she needed it.  But me, why don't I find myself overwhelmed by this same grace, this same mercy, this same sacrifice?  Perhaps..., no, surely not. Surely none of us that have experienced God's saving grace would ever think that Jesus didn't need to go quite that far for us?
No. We would never say this, or even think it, but subconsciously, do we live it?  Are we under-whelmed by Jesus's death because maybe in our case a good beating would have done the trick?  After all, my sins are quite minor compared to others.  There really wasn't a lot of saving and redeeming to be done in my case. The whole blood-death-sacrifice seems a bit overkill.

When these thoughts first came to my mind and heart, my reaction was, "Lord! of course not! I'm very grateful for what you suffered for me, for your shed blood that paid for my salvation, for the old rugged cross that ...."  Yeah. I went there. I quoted hymns to God.
Gently he continued to speak to my heart. "I know you don't THINK it, but do you act it?  Is my sacrifice something you pull up to ponder at Easter?  I know you are overwhelmed with life and all the trials and challenges. I'm not asking for you to devote hours each day dancing before me with praise, but it would be nice if every once in a while you were lost in the sea of my grace and goodness, that it registered with you how fully involved I am in your salvation and redemption."

"Fully involved."  I hadn't thought about it like that before.  When God made the plan to save us, he didn't hold anything back. Jesus was fully involved. This wasn't a part time gig, it wasn't a sideline, it wasn't, "I'll take 33 years off from running the universe to hop down to earth and redeem those humans."  The decision to make this sacrifice, to put on humanity, to die, to face down sin and defeat Satan, this is something that forever altered eternity.

I don't ever want to live in a manner that even suggests that I do not need Jesus' full sacrifice. I don't want my heart-song to be half-hearted. The sin that bound me, that separated me from God, that made me unholy and unfit to stand before him is just as dirty, just as loathsome, just as painful as any other sin.  He took it all away, he removed the barrier that stood between my soul and God's holiness by nailing it to the cross (Colossians 2:14); it took the very same sacrifice, the same torturous death to redeem MY sinful soul as it does for anyone else's.

I have asked God to give me a new glimpse at where my heart would be without his salvation; I've asked him to quickly convict me should I ever cease to be as fully involved in my praise as he was in my redemption. I want to be so full of awareness of what he has done for me that it overflows, that it is contagious, that it draws people and reflects back to God. 

Mud Wrestlin' - The Competitive Woman

Two in a series of how women treat each other...and what to do about it. 

Competition. It's what makes the world go 'round...right?

I've never, ever, been at all interested in sports, or even competitive games, but I have to admit, I do have a streak that makes me want to make the highest score in the class, or at least the highest score possible. I truly don't mind if others share that score with me, just don't let anyone be higher than me. I remember crying once in high school over making a 98% on a final exam.  I would have rather made a 94% than come so close and still not achieve perfection, so yeah, the competition thing, apparently there is a speck of it even in little old me.

In many ways competition can be a good thing, causing us to strive to do our very best.  However, there is an uglier side to it and when paired with our own insecurities (and yes, we all have those as well), the outcome can get nasty.

We've all witnessed this.  Someone is the established queen o' the kitchen and someone new comes in sporting their fabulous recipes. Or perhaps they are a better piano player, or you've always directed the Christmas play and now the powers that be dared to give someone else a shot at it.   I don't need to give many examples, you know what I'm talking about.
Sometimes though it's not even that someone is actually better than we are, it's that we perceive them to be a threat.
We keep chickens.  Let me tell you a few things about hens. They are loud, they squawk, they announce with pride their own accomplishments (and there are few sounds more grating than a hen laying her egg), they can't keep their trap shut even when it would benefit them (give a hen a treat and she immediately has to spread the news. And no, I'm not giving them credit for wanting to share the treats, because they will attack anyone who gets too close, they just want to brag that they got a treat and you didn't.) You've heard of the expression, "the pecking order", oh yes, it's true.  A new bird doesn't have to show a threat, she merely has to show up and someone will perceive her as a threat. It may not be the top lady, but somewhere down the line, one girl will decide that this new chick is a problem and begin to persecute her.  What? you say this sounds familiar and you have never even seen a chicken?  Mmm hmm, there is a reason why a derogatory term for women is "hens."

We've seen it. We may have even done it.  Snide remarks from the sidelines. Rejoicing silently (or not so silently) when others fail. One-upping each other over anything... kids, crafts, cooking, singing. Slinging mud. It's a constant chorus of "anything you can do, I can do better..."

Oh sisters, it's ugly, and it's among us...in us. But it has no place in ladies who are redeemed and filled with the Holy Spirit.  It's hurtful to our target and makes us appear weak and petty to those witnessing it.  It's unwholesome, unladylike, and ungodly.  Girls, we gots to get RID of it. Here are a few thoughts on how we can work on it.

1. Own it.  Even if you think that you are keeping this attitude pretty private, chances are that the longer you let it fester, the more it's going to come public, or may have already.  If you know that you have a "thing" with a particular lady, examine yourself!  "Oh it's just a personality clash, I don't truly dislike her!"  Hmm... Ask God to show you the deep parts of your heart. Ask a trusted sister to "get real" with you  and tell you if they see issues. Often this competitive spirit can be traced back to feelings of insecurity, the attacks are merely a symptom of other problems that need to be dealt with, but we can't take out our issues on others while we work through them either.

2. Confess it.  To God of course first, but really, if you have made any "zingers" to anyone else, you should apologize to them too.  How about your target?  This one can get tricky.  If the lady honestly has no idea that you have been gunning for her, it can be a wee bit disconcerting to have someone come up and say, "hey, I'm sorry that I've had a bad attitude toward  you, disliked you, and mocked you."   On the other hand, if she knows (and if you've had the attitude for any length of time, she does), you must apologize and ask forgiveness.  With an open heart ask God to show you exactly how much apologizing you need to do; this is also a  good place to seek counsel from someone.

3. Change it.  My personal church background seemed to have put a lot of  emphasis on praying about it and very little on actually doing something about it.  Please understand, I'm not knocking the idea of praying about it, and asking God for help (without him, it's just a self-help program),  but at some point we need to exercise self-control and simply rein it in.
Attitudes change from the inside. If possible, seek to truly become friends with her. If that isn't going to happen (not everyone is meant to be best friends) then at least look for opportunities  to (openly) admire her skills and truly appreciate how she is a benefit to your church or group.  Another thing is to pray for her.  I admit that at first it is just words, but there is something powerful in prayer and when you pray God's blessing on someone, after a while, a change comes over your own heart and you simply can't hate them any longer.

4. Accountability.  Is there someone who can  help you break this attitude and habit?  (do you see a theme here? accountability, it's a good thing.  perhaps a future post)  Best would be someone who sees you with her, but if not, then just someone who will ask you how it's going and encourage you along.

Romans 12:2 tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, and Ephesians 4:32 teaches us to be kind and tenderhearted toward each other.  Jesus also said in John 13:35 that we will be known as his followers by the love we show each other.
Ask God to make these verses real to you, ask him to show you if there is other scriptures that would be meaningful to you on this topic, climb out of the mud and extend a hand of friendship.


This article was mostly written shortly after the last one, but I hesitated in posting it because I didn't think I had this issue and therefore wasn't suited to address it.  I'm chagrined to say that the Lord has shown me that indeed there is indeed a little bit of competitiveness in me.  Apparently I have this need to be the wittiest, cleverest person in the room. I am compelled to have the last word (and oh how my last word is amusing!). I even tried to explain to God that actually, this is ok, my friends LIKE it. However, he had the last word and asked me to consider situations in which there may be someone who is more reserved, perhaps it took a very real effort to even speak up, and instead of truly considering them, I used their statement as a springboard for my own witty repartee.  Ouch.  Lord help me to monitor my tongue, help me learn to be willing to let opportunities to show off slide on by so that others may be truly heard. I never want to crush the spirit of a shyer person who may have had a hard time speaking up in the first place. Temper my mouth, may I always consider others first. 

Up On a Pedestal- The Unreachable Woman

This is the first in a short series of how women treat each other. I'll be thinking about what happens when there is too much admiration, next,  too much competition, and then finally, too much judgement. 

We have all been taught and admonished to not ignore the less popular,  the misfits,  the new person. We extend ourselves to make them feel welcome and may even pat ourselves on the back for our inclusiveness.

Today I want to talk about the girl on the other end of the spectrum  The one who through no fault of her own has been put in a a pedestal.  There she sits, admired by all, but befriended by few.  Hear me, I'm not talking about one who is stuck up or believes themselves to be above everyone, no, this girl is truly admired and looked up to; perhaps too far up to. I've known several ladies like this.  Every comment I have ever heard was spoken with sincerity and esteem,  "She is the best organizer, mom, teacher, cook, hostess...she's even slim. <insert wishful sigh> I don't know how she does it."
The result is that we look up to these ladies as a goal to aspire to, not a friend to have. I'm too messy for her to want me. I'll just grab another disheveled, disorganized, fast-food-feeding, temper-losing, (you know, LIKE ME) girl to be friends with, and maybe someday, clutching at each other for support, we can be something like Her.

I was recently at an event and struck up conversation with another lady. In the course of our talking, I began singing the praises of a specific group I used to belong to.  This lady had been a member at the same time, so I assumed she would have the same beatific memories I had.  Instead a look crossed her face and she asked, "You got all that from this group?"  Well of course I did! Didn't you?
No. No, she had not.  She was excited to join, open for friendship, not a  bit stand-offish, actively seeking (not just hoping for) relationship, but it just didn't seem to happen for her.  She even asked me why I though it might have happened (or didn't happen)  this way for her.

At the time I didn't have an answer; same group, same time, doing the same things, why do some come away with dear, life-long, friendships and others come away still longing?  After some considering, I think that at least part of the answer in her case may be that people assumed that she was so accomplished and so  popular that she didn't need them as a friend.  I know for certain that I have done this.  I'm good at some things and not good at some things and downright struggle with other things, and for the most part, I'm ok with that (or at least getting ok with it). I see in most of my friends that they also have strengths and weaknesses and that is a comforting thing.  Then I see ladies who just "have it all together" and I assume that they wouldn't need me or want me, that I have nothing to offer, so I don't even make an effort.

The truth is that no one has it all together to the point where they simply can't use another friend. I have an amusing memory of the time when the ice finally broke between myself and my friend G.  I had known her for quite some time and admired her.  She was good friends with several of my good friends, but I just wouldn't approach her... I  had her so far up on a pedestal that I wouldn't let myself get close.  One day we were working on a craft in a Ladies Group and making wreaths for our front doors.  Hers had great colors, a jaunty bow... and was stiff as a board. Flowers marching in strict order up both sides with the bow in the absolute bottom center.  She held it up and in a dismayed voice pronounced that it just wasn't RIGHT.  I went over and in a few moments added additional flowers, moved the bow to perch on the side and changed it from perfect symmetry to simply balanced.  All of a sudden it was cute instead of precise, and she was thrilled.  "HOW do you DO that?"   That was the beginning point, my perfectly precise friend G needed me, she NEEDED me to mess her up a bit.

We all have something to offer, even to those ladies who we admire too much to approach. Remembering my recent conversation,  I am a bit wistful now, thinking of the friendships that could have been forged, the blessings that could have been given and received. I'm going to send her a note today and admit that I've had her on a pedestal for too long, but that if she wants me, I will be her friend.