It's not about warm fuzzies

One of the many things that I wrestle with is why there is so much privilege and poverty in our world.  I struggle sometimes with why I have a comfortable life, in that my basic needs are met: roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back, etc., and yet, so many people in my city and across the world are not as fortunate.

In efforts to try to bridge the gap for me, I have been asking questions about our connectedness to each other as a human race and as all being created in the image of God.  Though the questions can easily turn into feeling shame and guilt around my basic needs being met, I have tried to ask more practical questions around how my decisions can impact others.  I ask myself questions like what stores am I purchasing things at and what do they stand for?  How do they treat their employees?  Where do they buy their products from and are they compensating their producers fairly?

I believe that making simple changes can have a great impact on the world.  Maybe not today or tomorrow, but maybe many years down the road.  The decisions on purchases (as well as other areas) can bring hope to others on the other side of the world.  It is not about warm fuzzies, but about helping to end the cycle of poverty.

The reality is that poverty exists.  The reality is that privilege exists.  The reality is that I have a role in the bigger story of bringing restoration and redemption to a broken world.

Still small voice in the small places

So many times I feel a tension between the busyness of life and the desire for quietness and stillness.  I picture the craziness in front of me (it looks like work, family, finances, schedules, and life in general, in a sort of whirlwind type thing) and there I am trying to push those things aside in an outward motion to allow a clearing.  Then, instead of stepping into that cleared space to experience peace, I get overwhelmed by thinking about what should fill it and the whirlwind of life takes over once again enveloping the space I worked so hard to make.  It is a vicious cycle that has me caught between the craziness, and the desire for simplicity and the need to just be. 

What if, instead of feeling like I need to clear the brush and push everything aside to make space, I allow the quiet and stillness to infiltrate the wee pockets and the cracks in between the busy and crazy things?  I wonder if allowing God in whatever way, shape or form into these pockets and using the all ready naturally created space will bring relief and let me experience life.  Maybe the freedom to experience quietness, stillness, and simplicity lies in the small places of life and not only the large spaces we sometimes feel obligated to create.

Moving on

Can someone please let me know where August and September went?  In the busyness, I thought often about when and what shall I write about?  It is not due to lack of things to share, but what to choose.

Among the many eventful things that have probably happened, things that I may or may not remember at this moment (State Fair visits, crazy work schedule, moments of self discovery, deep thoughts about life . . .), there is something that remains very vivid in my mind.

On a Wednesday, while my family ate lunch, a gun was shot on our street and the bullet entered our home and travelled across the living room and dining room.  It lodged in a wall a handful of feet away from my family.

Though an event like this is not uncommon to most of our neighborhood residents, it was very foreign to us.  In an all ready challenging and somewhat negative living experience, our safe environment (our home) suddenly didn't feel safe any longer.  On top of this, my husband was caught in, not one, but two drive by shooting situations.  Is this a sign?

That afternoon, directly following this event, I was scheduled to attend a meeting for work.  It was a meeting in the neighborhood with an organization doing great things in the area.  It was an interesting experience as I found out that our home fell within the area known as "the zone."  This zone was identified by city officials as the highest crime area in the entire city.

A representative of this organization began his segment by talking about stereotypes that people in the suburbs have about the inner city and joked about how he had never been shot at.  I felt so conflicted sitting there having just experienced a bullet flying through my home.  All of my stereotypes are being reinforced on a daily basis and it is challenging to process this.

Unlike most residents, we have options for leaving and, as teens are being shot and killed almost weekly, we intend to take advantage of this.  As our neighbors below us are constantly smoking weed (and we reap the [non] benefits of the smell wafting into and stinking up our house); and our other neighbors break all noise ordinances and see stop signs as optional, we cannot wait to move on and live a safer, more life-giving . . . life.

Better day

I am slowly gaining more insight into the tragedy in Somalia.  I mentioned in my last post about how 26,000 children under the age of five have died from starvation.  If this isn't devastating enough, there are millions more at risk of losing their lives in this way.  Aid is being withheld and people are being trapped as any freedom to find an alternative to the hell they're living is stripped from them.

I can't even begin to imagine the horror that the people in this region are experiencing.  It quite honestly makes me feel ill thinking about it.  In the midst of celebrating the Muslim holiday of Ramadan, nonetheless, where a month of fasting is observed from sun up to sun down, tens of thousands are dying of starvation not by their choosing.

During moments like these, I feel deep sadness and despair as the intense suffering continues to sweep across the world, as evil and darkness show their faces in a very visible way.  I feel helpless, but am brought to my knees asking God to have mercy.  I grasp on to hope for a better day and sometimes that helps.  Lord have mercy.

Justice and Jesus

Often times, justice is looked at as something that the “liberals” are all about.  Women's liberation and the Civil Rights movements may come to mind.  The word is thrown around many times without a clear understanding of what that even means.  Justice involves bringing dignity and restoration by removing obstacles so that people can help themselves, living in freedom and unity.  Justice is a lifestyle.

Every day we are confronted by issues of injustice whether we recognize it or not.  Social, economic, racial and systematic injustices are prevalent in the communities we live in, the food we buy, the schools we send our kids to, etc.  These “obstacles,” once we clearly identify and choose to look at them, can feel completely overwhelming (maybe hopeless) as we begin to think about why people are homeless and living in poverty, why 29,000 children under the age of five died in Somalia, or why illiteracy is so rampant in our communities.  Equally overwhelming is the thought of how we are to respond.  So, we stand immobilized, not quite sure where to begin or which issue to tackle first.

Though I believe education around issues of injustice, advocacy, and practical life changes are pertinent in the fight for justice, I wonder if the starting point is simpler than we think. 

When I look at Jesus, I can’t help but notice how justice is a part of who He is.  The life that He lived is one of bringing restoration and giving dignity to those without.  What if our entry point wasn’t to march to end homelessness or to tutor all of the kids on our block.  What if we began by living in the way of Jesus?  To love as He did and make it a priority to care about what He cared about.  Would our response to the injustices we stumble upon each day begin to innately flow from our being?  Would our actions bring restoration and give dignity to those on the margins of society?  Let’s all try it and see what happens.

Songs

Do you ever listen to a song and it hits you somewhere deep within?  It is a song that you could listen to over and over . . . and do.

In college, a friend of mine introduced me to a song called "Until I Wake Up" by a band called Dishwalla.  This song is beautiful and the lead singer, J.R. Richards, has an amazing voice.  I can't quite put my finger on why this song never gets old for me, because when I think about it, the song is actually a little depressing.

Dishwalla's Opaline was released in 2002 and I have listened to it hundreds of times and as of just recently, I have been falling in love again with these songs.  It takes me right back to sitting in my office and listening to this album repeatedly as I worked.

Music is a really powerful thing.  If my life had a soundtrack (which it should), "Until I Wake Up" would probably be on it.  Thank you to the artists who share their amazing gifts for the rest of us to enjoy!

Kleenex and TP

I found myself wanting to pull my hair out this afternoon as I discovered my three year old had emptied an entire box of Kleenex on the landing of our stairway.  She also used the last roll of TP in the house, along with the Kleenex, in efforts to make herself a "comfy bed."  In addition to the tissue and TP, she had emptied her drawers of clothes, the same drawers that I, just this morning, spent time organizing and folding because she emptied the drawers yesterday.  I kept asking her why she did this, since we tell her repeatedly to not do these exact things.  She said that she didn't know and proceeded to tell me that I hurt her feelings.  


I didn't want to talk to her as I was stuffing the excess of tissue in a bag, and I didn't want her to talk to me.  I was so frustrated.

As I tucked her in to bed tonight, I laid next to her for a while.  I apologized for how upset I got this afternoon and told her how special she is to me and how much I love her.  She told me it was okay and that I was special to her too.  I love her so much and at the end of the day, I hope to be patient, loving, and gracious, and to never underestimate the weight that an apology holds, even to a three year old.

Life phase #78,384

I have been in a weird funk of sorts lately.  I seem to go through this phase every so often where I feel very insignificant and inadequate.  It feels like no matter how hard I work or put myself out there, it is met with disappointment or frustration on the other side.  I don't need people giving me lip service or blowing smoke up my ass, but every once in a while, some encouragement and words that are uplifting would be oh so great.  Just to be reminded that there are people who support and love me.  

I keep telling myself as of late that it isn't about what people think of my efforts to be a good, no great, mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister, etc., but it really comes down to reminding myself that I am the Beloved.  Therein lies my strength and hope and joy.  But, if that is simply the case, do I stop expecting or wanting that from those I love, therefore, eliminating any sort of disappointment of not receiving these words of affirmation?  I don't know the answer for sure.  


Do you ever just want to take a break from life?  Whatever that would mean.  Not even a vacation necessarily, though I would not pass it up.  Sometimes I think it would be great to just have a button to push that would take you to a place where you don't have a schedule, where you don't need to think of all of the financial issues, where you could experience freedom, peace, joy, sleep, great food, and awesome company . . . and then when you feel full and rested, you just push another button and voila, you're back in the game.

Fame and fortune

Last night, we went to the new TCF Stadium to see U2.  We won tickets through my work.  It seriously was like a miracle, and it was awesome!  It did downpour for about half of the show and it was as though I had jumped into a pool in my clothes, but it was worth it to see them and to have a fun, unexpected date night.  During the show, the Aquatennial fireworks were going off in the distance . . . along with some lightning and mighty winds.  Yikes! I did wonder if my life was going to end at a U2 concert.  In fact, on our way back to our car, I did mention that we should get a will in place.

Anyway, not only do I appreciate the amazing talent of Bono, The Edge, Larry, and Adam, but I equally appreciate the work they do to fight for justice.  They have a genuine concern for those suffering, for those among the least of us, and it is very much incorporated into their words.  I wonder what our world would look like if everyone with fame and fortune used it to fight for justice.  I respect those guys a ton!  And I love their music!

A new record

Reading is one of my favorite past times, but sometimes I forget that it is.  Actually, it might be more related to the fact that it takes me a while to get into books.  Maybe I just haven't found the right ones.  I believe that I currently have five books that have been started and not finished.

That being said, I just read The Hunger Games series.  Three books in less than a month.  That is a record for me.  I was so captivated and couldn't wait until I had a moment to read on.  I am really looking forward to the movie to be released on March 23, 2012; so much so, that I have been researching the movie and cast.

Though I love Katniss with her compassionate, kick-ass, hunter, driven self; I absolutely adore Peeta.  In fact, I would like him to be my friend.  He is caring, loving, funny, intelligent, intuitive, level-headed, and has a really great heart.  He says it how it is, yet remains thoughtful and non-threatening in the same manner.  I am really going to miss those guys.

Anyway, I am trying to get my husband to read the series so that we can debrief and see the movie together.  We'll see if I can convince him.  Any recommendations for my next book?

Three going on 14

I never really used to think too much about single parenting and the challenge of getting through each day with little ones.  After experiencing only a handful of days as a single parent (when my husband was traveling), my respect for single parents increased a hundred times.  How do they do it?  Really.  I would like to know.

The past two days have been a challenge on another level - doing life with a three-year-old.  This three-year-old is extremely intelligent and sassy; three going on 14.  Need I say more?  I lost track of how many time she yelled "no" at me.

"Be quiet."
"NO!"
"Go sit on the stairs."
"NO!"
"You need to sit on your bottom."
"NO!"
"Stop spitting food out."
"NO!"

At one point, there was a stare down.  And, though I am confident with my competitiveness and drive I would've won, I walked away and closed the door behind me to collect my thoughts and take some deep breaths.

This afternoon, she had a roll of toilet paper in her room (I have no clue why) and it was everywhere.  It's like she was TPing her own bedroom.  She also had a glass of water in her room . . . all over the floor.  All of this chaos while she was supposed to be napping.

I am a cool, calm, and collected person, and it takes a lot to get me riled up in most cases.  Man alive, the last couple of days have been exhausting and it felt like I have failed as a parent somehow by letting these things frustrate me so much.  I know that is being a little dramatic and she is only three.  I want to handle these situations in a healthy and loving way because when 14 does come around, it will be a whole new ball game and I likewise want to process whatever issues with her in a healthy and loving way at that time.

So, God help me!  And help all of the parents out there with three year olds, and those people who will have three year olds to come.

Snapshot

It has been a while.  I have a lot of things to write about, but not knowing where to begin, I thought I would just highlight what I've been doing this past month or so.

• Raising a toddler and a baby (need I say more?).
• I have taken up Sudoku.  I am not great at it, but when I finish a puzzle, there is a great sense of accomplishment.
• Gossip Girl has peaked my interest quite a bit.  Chuck Bass is awesome.  He and Blair are so perfect for each other.  Jenny bugs and is super selfish and mean to others.  I want Nate and Vanessa to get back together, and Lily and Rufus need to just work out their issues.  Anyway, I could go on and on, but I will restrain.
• I met Blue from Blue's Clues.
• I worked at Anthropologie as a temp one day and got $376 worth of products for $71.  It was fun other than needing to be there at 5am.
• My job has changed slightly.  I am awaiting a new job description.
• I dabbled in trying to plan a vacation.
• Been spending a lot of time with my husband and kids, but it never quite feels like enough or it feels like I need a vacation - it depends on the day.
• Thinking that I might try to get into sewing and making stuff like clothes and other household funness.
• Enjoying every single time that my three year old says "My bad Mom.  I'm sorry.  It was my bad."

And in efforts not to bring about boredom, I will end there.  

It's just a cardigan

Most who know me know that I am slightly obsessed with cardigans.  Well, maybe obsessed is too strong of a word.  I have a very strong love for them.  They are just so practical and versatile.  They can be worn with every kind of bottom and dresses; they can be buttoned, belted or worn open for a more casual look.  Everyone really should own one. 

The other day, I was talking to a friend about the cardigan she was wearing.  It was super cute!  It was cream with little navy blue birds on it and a navy blue edging around the collar and down the front.  Anyway, she got it from Anthropologie on clearance for $19.95 – what a steal!  Anyone who is familiar with Anthropologie knows that a sweater on average can range anywhere from $100 - $250.

As we were discussing this beautiful article of clothing, a couple things crossed my mind: 1. How can I get this sweater and 2. If they don’t have it, I have to find something similar somewhere else.  The next thing that came out of my mouth took me a little by surprise.  I said, “I need to get more cardigans that have prints on them.”  Pause.  I actually paused after “need” came out of my mouth and corrected myself and said “want.”  I realized pretty quickly what I was saying, when the truth of the matter is I really don’t NEED another piece of clothing and for sure do not NEED any more cardigans.  What’s my deal?!

Well, I am human.  I know, really it’s true.  I fall into the consumer mentality myself and more often that I care to admit.  The thing that got me as I was reflecting was the fact that I said I “need” that.  That could be further from the truth.  So often needs and wants become enmeshed and we just end up with a lot of stuff.  Many times I feel a tension within myself as I desire to live a more freeing life in the midst of the limitations of my current life.  How do I incorporate those liberating aspects into the life I live?  What does that look like? 

For example, I have experienced a sense of freedom in simplifying my life in the areas of time, relationships, and material things.  When I am intentional about that, life is great.  When it comes to material things, I cannot even tell you how many times my husband and I have said that we need to go through our storage and purge stuff.  Or go through our kitchen cupboards because I know we don’t use a lot of the items that we store in them.  I, fortunately, have gotten on a good rhythm of cleaning out my closet and getting rid of clothes that I don’t wear frequently enough.  It is kind of overwhelming and exhausting to think about all of this. 

In summation, I think that I need someone to come in and conquer this huge undertaking with me, that is cleaning out our storage, kitchen, and closets.  Or for now, I need to let that go and be okay with what I can accomplish in this moment.  Maybe the real change starts within myself by becoming fully aware of the consumer in me so that I can begin to experience freedom in small, simple ways.

Better late than never

This past Mother's Day, I really tried to make space to reflect on motherhood and the gift that it is.  Even though, it being on a Sunday, my husband was gone from 7am to 9pm, with an hour or so home for lunch. It was precious though because my three year old wished me a happy Mother's Day about twenty times throughout the day.

A friend of mine explained how to mother is an experience anyone who says yes to God can encounter.  It is the joy, the struggle, the sacrifice, the evolving of oneself . . . the realization that you cannot do it alone, the fear of failure, the love poured out and received, and so on.  How true this is for mothers, yet for those who may not be and who have the courage to simply say yes to God and all that He has for them.

I came across the following excerpt from author Lynne Hybels.  For my friends who are mothers and who are not, who are women and who are not (clearly "women" could be replaced by "men" or "people"), who feel joy, sadness, fear, rejection, frustration, hopelessness . . . this is for you.

Dear God, 

May we be women who acknowledge our power to change, and grow, and be radically alive for God.

May we be healers of wounds and righters of wrongs.

May we weep with those who weep and speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.

May we cherish children, embrace the elderly, and empower the poor.

May we pray deeply and teach wisely.

May we be strong and gentle leaders.

May we sing songs of joy and talk down fear.

May we never hesitate to let passion push us, conviction compel us, and righteous anger energize us.

May we strike fear into all that is unjust and evil in the world.

May we dismantle abusive systems and silence lies with truth.

May we shine like stars in a darkened generation.

May we overflow with goodness in the name of God and by the power of Jesus.

And in that name and by that power, may we change the world.

Amen.

Namaste

Namaste is often said after completion of yoga or used to greet one another in India.  It literally means "how me you" or "I bow to you."  It is a greeting that recognizes the soul in one person by the soul in another.

This morning I had the opportunity to meet Dr. Sane.  He and is wife, Kumud, who is also a doctor moved to the area in 1971 to start Children's Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota - Minneapolis.  Kumud was the one of the top doctors of endocrinology at the hospital.  Both doctors retired and built a Hindu temple in Maple Grove.

Dr. Sane gave us a tour of this amazing temple that sits just five minutes from where I work.  This building was beautiful.  He briefly explained the Hindu religion and all of the statues in the place of worship.  We saw some worshippers performing some rituals while we were there.

Not only was I impressed the detail and intricacies of the sculptures, but I was really impressed with Dr. Sane and Kumud.  They were such cool people who very clearly love others.  I hope that our paths cross again.

It's complicated

My friend eloquently communicates the tension and struggle I feel about this historic event.  It is complex.  Justice and peace have not been attained as this unfortunate cycle of hatred and murder continues on.  Justice does not equal punishment.  Have mercy on us.

Reflections on the Death of Osama bin Laden
           Today has been a strange day.  Upon hearing about the death of Osama Bin Laden, I was immediately struck with a profound sadness.  Throughout the day I found myself tearing up and fighting off waves of emotion.  I’m sure some of the emotion is a result of not sleeping well and the grind that life has been for the last several weeks.  But I also think there is more.  Something about the events of Bin Laden’s death causes me to mourn something bigger.
            As I read through the Twitter feeds and Facebook posts, I realize I don’t relate to what a lot of people are feeling.  There is no joy in me what so ever.  I don’t feel relief at all.  Thinking things will change or that this will bring an end to Al Qaeda seems absolutely ridiculous.  For many, this feels like justice.  I don’t even know what that means.  How can you want justice for one and not for all?  Isn’t justice what most people like Bin Laden say they want as well?  Is their justice less important than ours?  Who decides what’s just and what isn’t?
            A few years ago I heard Desmond Tutu speak in Minneapolis.  After a few minutes of talking about how all of humanity is connected to each other, he started talking about God’s perspective.  I remember him saying, “With God, there are no outsiders.  Everyone is an insider.”  He quoted Jesus’ words when he said, “When I am lifted up, I will draw all people to myself.”  The word that he parked on for the rest of his talk was “all.”  As Archbishop Tutu preached and began to talk about God’s love for “all,” people began to clap and cheer.  Then, he brilliantly began inserting specific people in relationship to the “all” of God’s love.  I remember him pushing the envelope further and further and listening to people continue to clap and cheer.  The second to the last person he referred to as being part of the “all” was President George W. Bush.  People laughed but kept cheering.  However, the last person’s name to be shouted out that night by Desmond Tutu was Osama Bin Laden.  When he yelled out his name, people didn’t know what to do.  The clapping slowed, the cheering quieted, and Desmond Tutu knew that he had reached the limit of what the room could handle.  He responded by yelling “all, ALL, ALL!!” 
            I’ll never forget that moment.  What I realized is that we have a limit to our love.  The pain of 9/11 was never truly dealt with in our country.  We carry it and it lies hidden until someone comes along and pulls the cover off.  The pain is still there.  Today we see it expressed in various ways all over the news and social networks.
            The words that have stuck with me all day are the words of Jesus talking about how God “causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous.”  He then calls us to “be perfect therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."  So much of Evangelical Christianity has been built on the premise that we will never be perfect, and yet Jesus calls us to be perfect like God is.  I think the point of the passage is that God’s love is perfect.  In other words, God loves all the same.  If God loved one more than another, then His love wouldn’t be perfect.  It’s hard for me to comprehend God loving Osama Bin Laden as much as Mother Teresa., but it has to be true for perfection.  We celebrate the death of one and mourn the death of another.  The perfection Jesus calls us to isn’t about getting everything right, it’s about loving everyone the same.
            I think my sadness today comes from realizing how far humanity is from the call of Jesus to be perfect in love.  My own imperfection comes out when I read stories of people cheering for death, celebrating revenge, and lifting up violence.  What they hate about Bin Laden, I hate about them.  The speck of dust in their eye is a chip off the plank in my own.  I’m disappointed in the violence in me and in all of us.
            A few years ago, one of my mentors talked to me about mercy being a higher value than justice.  I’m not sure Bin Laden deserves mercy, but I’m also not sure that I do.  The hope that I carry today is that despite my imperfection of love, God is still perfect in His.  His story is a story where mercy comes in over justice.  That's good news for all of us.  We need mercy more than ever if we are ever going to deal with the pain, anger, and violence that lies beneath the surface of our humanity.  I mourn for our world today.  The cycle of violence continues while we continue to push away and ignore the pain that lies at the center.  Mercy, we need You to lead.

In the name of friendship

I am baffled by many things.  One thing in particular has me puzzled as of late: friendship abuse.  I have many friends who are great at making deals, negotiating, bargaining, and I actually am not too shabby myself at times.  In the midst of what can be a positive attribute, however, I never want to take advantage of my friends or anyone for that matter.

One example that comes to mind is when people want to make a deal with performers.  Many of my friends are musicians and that is their profession, their main source of income.  I understand tight budgets and networking and such when you are trying to book performers (having been a booking agent), but I know that they are trying to pay their bills and put food on the table; many of them doing so for their family.  Some may be in a place financially to make a deal with friends, but many of the ones I know are not.  Even though, a few of them often will negotiate with friends, it's polite not to expect it of them.

Another example, my husband loaned a valuable piece of equipment to someone and it was stolen while in this person's possession.  I found out through his wife's facebook status that the piece of equipment had been stolen, told my husband who had no clue, and he called this person to confront him.  This guy came up with excuses as to why he didn't say anything and then offered a really low price to replace it.  A price that is actually several hundreds of dollars less than the value.  My husband said that he wanted a certain amount for it, an amount that is less than half of the value.  This person decided that he wanted to negotiate and continued to come up with excuses as to why he didn't feel the need to pay for this stolen property and said that friendship and relationship should be more important.  He also proceeded to say that his reputation far out weighs my husband's should there ever be question of that.  Interesting . . . and sad . . . and just really unfortunate that this incident is now a wedge between them.

I do believe that friendship and relationship is more important than material things, and I also believe that doing what is right and truthful and honorable is important as well.  Don't take advantage of others in the name of friendship.  Not cool.

Easter to a three year old

In efforts to be intentional about Holy Week, I took it upon myself to explain Good Friday to my three year old.  It went something like this:

"Do you know what day it is?"  To which she replied, "no." I told her today was Good Friday.  She asked me what that was.  Okay, here we go.  I said that a long time ago, there were people who were really mean to Jesus.  They called him names and they were mad because they didn't believe that he was the King.  "Jesus is a King?!" she asked excitedly as she is quite familiar with kings, queens, princes, and princesses.  I told her that Jesus went away for a couple of days.

Then, I said that Easter is when Jesus came back and saw his friends and everyone was so happy to see him.  To which she replied, "awwww, cute!  That's my favorite part."

"Which part is your favorite?" I asked.  "The part about Easter," she said.

It's amazing how difficult it is sometimes to explain things to a three year old.  But, in the same breath, if only we would be in awe and ask the questions and be okay with the simple things as they are.  Not that the incidents that happened this time many years ago are simple.  The sacrificial death in no means should be taken lightly; for that amazing selfless sacrifice is what gives us hope and is what helps us love.

Your heart is broken, the heart that did not know hatred, revenge, resentment, jealousy or envy but only love, love so deep and so wide that it embraces your Father in heaven as well as all humanity in time and space. Your broken heart is the source of my salvation, the foundation of my hope, the cause of my love. It is the sacred place where all that was, is and ever shall be is held in unity. There all suffering has been suffered, all anguish lived, all loneliness endured, all abandonment felt and all agony cried out. There, human and divine love have kissed, and there God and all men and women of history are reconciled. All the tears of the human race have been cried there, all pain understood and all despair touched.  -Henri Nouwen

Best friends forever

It is a rare and priceless gift to have a friendship last a lifetime, a literal lifetime.  I remember two of my childhood best friends, both of whom I am no longer in contact with.  One relationship phased out as we entered junior high and the other faded as we each got married and as life happened.

The first friendship seemed like a mutual decision to stop pursuing each other as our lives went in different directions.  This was after years of spending almost every spare moment at each other's house.  Though it made sense at the time that we grew apart, given that we attended different schools and our life choices didn’t quite align, there was a void in the years to come.  For a junior high kid, however, this was a devastating “break-up” if you will.  I have fond memories of us laughing until we cried every time we would get together.  We got our ears double pierced together.  We would dress like twins more often than I care to admit (side pony tails and all - it was the 80s, what more can I say).  I remember playing Barbie dolls for hours and hours; some days from sun-up to sun down.  We had the "best friends" necklaces.  I still think about that friendship from time to time and wonder what it would be like if we were still actively a part of each other’s life. 

Our last encounter was at her dad’s funeral over ten years ago.  I hadn’t seen her in years and we embraced, and she cried.  It was as though regardless of our absence from one another’s life, we were a still a part of each other’s life.  It’s hard to explain.

The other friendship spanned over 20 years.  I remember thinking that this was one that would last forever, and then life happened.  Without going into a ton of detail, she met a guy, got married and moved away, leaving her friends a little shocked and confused.  We were not invited to be a part of that decision or relationship and it hurt.  With distance as a significant barrier, and our daily lives as another, that friendship quickly disintegrated.  I remember having lunch one day when she was back in town.  At one moment it got quiet, and a little awkward, as we seemed to have run out of things to talk about (this was a first in our many years of friendship).  Then it came out as I figured it would.  She looked at me and said, “Rebecca, we need to connect more often.  We need to keep in touch.”  Yes, that would be nice, I agreed.  After corresponding a couple of times with her with no response to follow, the communication stopped.  It was challenging to be expected of something and then have no reciprocation.  I miss the friendship we had, but am happy and content with where we are now.  I have accepted it for what it is.

I have learned through these relationships and others to hold things loosely.  There are a few friendships that I will fight very hard for.  And there are others that I know I will never have to fight for because they will always be; in their unique way, they will always be.  These are my “kindred spirits.”  There are other friendships that have come and gone with the ebb and flow of life.  And I am okay with their absence.  I grew up feeling terribly when friendships evolved or fell apart.  To me, it meant that I had failed in some way.  What I know to be true is that life happens and it is acceptable to hold things loosely and let things or people go when the time is right.

Pursuit of justice

Something vital in the way I am wired, is a sense of justice for people experiencing none.  I remember growing up asking over and over, “Why do I have food to eat and a roof over my head when there are many who go without?”  I was not naïve to the disparity in the world, but saw only glimpses of it in my limited worldview.  The magnitude of the issue is overwhelming and disheartening, and at times hopeless.  When I think of justice fully expressed, I think of harmony and peace.  I think of calm in the midst of chaos.  I imagine equality in a world full of discrimination.  

Is there a point where our personal struggle for justice becomes an injustice for another?  Who suffers as we try to create a fair world?  I never thought that pursuing things like justice, community development, equality, peace, etc. would lead to pandemonium in a way that actually creates injustice for others.

I ask the question about our fight for justice becoming an injustice for another because I think about my family, more specifically I think about my children.  We live in one of the most, if not the most, unruly areas of Minneapolis.  What started as a decision to live near friends and immerse ourselves into an under-developed neighborhood in efforts to help cultivate it, has led me to see my children experience a sort of unfairness in another way. 

Though the winters here are less rowdy, the non tundra-like months are ones of raucous and disorder.  It is uncommon for a week to go by without hearing gun shots ring through the surrounding area.  Police cars are constantly canvassing the streets and sirens are always sounding.  My husband and I have each individually witnessed a drive-by shooting in our six years of living here, one right outside our window and the other just a few blocks away.  (Side note: friends, do not be alarmed.  You can still come visit us).  This is what inadvertently affects my children.  In a way, there is a bit of their childhood they are deprived of.  That is having the independence to run around and play outside, ride their bikes down the block, walk to the park, etc.  In efforts to protect them from the mayhem, we take away a piece of their freedom to just be a kid.

When we chose to immerse ourselves into this neighborhood, we unavoidably began to absorb the injustices and the chaos that the people around us experience.  I wonder if we listened to the voices of those weaker than ourselves if our pursuit of justice would look any different.  For now, I hold on to hope for a better day for this neighborhood and trust that our presence is not squandered.

Gary

Last evening I met Gary.  Gary is probably in his mid to late 50s with long straight white hair and a white bushy Santa-like beard.  He was a professor at a college for a short period in his life.  Like me, he grew up on a dairy farm.  We reminisced about the hard and never-ending work that is required to operate a dairy farm as we ate our dinner of sloppy Joe's, coleslaw, and potatoes.

Since I have not been keeping up with this season of American Idol, Gary took it upon himself to inform me of the latest and greatest with this reality TV show.  He seemed quite knowledgeable of pop culture when it came to this competition.  At one point in our conversation, he lifted his arm up and looked down at his wrist.  "Do you like my bling?" he asked me.  "You wear it well." I replied.  What he was referring to was a hospital wristband.

Gary is infected with HIV.  He told me that he is alive because of the blood transfusions that he receives.  Along with the infection, he has a bone marrow disease.  Gary does not know how much longer he will be alive.

I was awake for a lot of the night thinking about what it could possibly be like to walk in Gary's shoes.  I cannot imagine.  In addition to Gary, I met other people who were living with HIV/AIDS, and I noticed that they were 'living'.  They would joke around and laugh and engage in conversations about their past, present, and future.  I ask myself, "What would my life look like if the tables were turned?"

Life is fragile.  Life is beautiful.  Each day and each breath is a gift.  I need to live my life and live it remembering that.

I Need a Day

If I had a day for me with no other responsibilities, it would look something like this (in no particular order):

1. Take the 25 or so items of clothes that have been lying in our room in a pile for the past couple of months or so to the consignment shop.
2. Take the two grocery bags of clothes that have been sitting in our room for about five months now to Goodwill.
3. Go to the mall and just wander; maybe spend some of my birthday money before it gets used to pay bills.
4. Take a nap.
5. Get a massage.
6. See some friends.
7. Organize my life.

Number 7 is a bit lofty, but one can dream.  My 'me' day probably wouldn't look exactly like this, but a few of these things would be a must. After coming to the realization that I work five days or more a week and I am home all day with my kids four days a week, the space for 'me' time is extremely limited at best. I don't need much, but some here and there would be therapeutic. This is the beginning of my quest for 'me' time.

Did That Just Happen?

It has been a bit since I posted something; in part, because I couldn't get access, and also because it has been a roller-coaster ride for my family this past week. Without going into too much detail, my daughter was hospitalized after being sick a few days. Turns out she had an infection in her blood.

Our second trip to the ER (yes, trip #2 after going to see two other doctors) did not end with us going home as the first one had. What was thought to be a one to two day stay ended up being a five day stay so that they could monitor Addi's sickness and infection. I remember thinking, "is this really happening?"

It was difficult seeing her hooked up to the machine administering her fluids and antibiotics. Every time the hospital room door opened, she became nervous and irritable. She sometimes would yell at the nurse or doctor to "get out!" She looked at me with tears in her eyes asking me what they were going to do. I kept telling her that they wanted to help her feel better, that I was there, and that it would be okay. Then, she started telling me that she didn't want to feel better, in hopes that they would leave her alone.

After a few days of just lying in bed, she began to go for walks in the hallway and play with some toys. This was great, but also had a couple of drawbacks as she would run away and try to hide from the nurses and doctors when they tried to get her vitals. She was a trooper though and through the tears she still let them listen to her breathing and get her temperature. Taking the blood pressure is another story.

One funny moment was when she was in bed resting after not being out of bed much and she asked me "Mom, you think I can dance?" She was watching a commercial where the characters were dancing. I said of course and started to help her out of bed, which was a bit of a process: put railing down, move blankets, put her slippers on, move her tubes, unplug her machine (so she could move into an open space), all while trying to be careful and gentle. "Mom, hurry up so I don't miss it" she told me.  I, unfortunately, wasn't quick enough.

During our stay, we watched a lot of Nick Jr., she ate a lot of bacon, and when it was time to go home, she said she wanted to stay. That was due to the cool toys that she got to play with and no other reason I am sure.

We are home and trying to play catch up. Other than being tired, seeing Addi's bruises on her arms from IVs and blood draws, and feeling like it has been forever since we have had any family time, it almost seems like we were never at the hospital. The hospital chaos began one week ago and it feels like it could have been a month ago. So glad to be on the other side.

They Will Know

What if Christians were known for their love?  As I learn more about who Jesus is, I find myself struggling to call myself a Christian because the two seem quite contradictory.  When I think about Jesus, I see love, justice, truth, grace, compassion . . . and, unfortunately, I don’t always associate these things with Christians. 

A couple of weeks ago, I learned of a huge controversy happening in evangelical circles about what was written in a book, a book ironically titled Love Wins.  Finding myself wanting to stay removed from the debate, knowing frustration and disappointment could easily arise in me, I didn’t do any research on the matter . . . until today.   I wish I could say that I felt neither frustrated nor disappointed, but that would be a lie.  I actually found myself stunned as I read people’s (“Christians”) responses attacking one another and God in each other.  It felt a little bit like what I know of The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis where “Screwtape sees a demon's primary goal to befuddle, confuse, and eventually corrupt a person rather than to tempt” him or her to do some extreme sinful act.  This seems accurate at Christians are hurting one another by divisive and spiteful comments.

A friend of mine responds to this debate by saying “there is no question that isn't safe to ask. The more we allow ourselves to humbly admit that our view is limited and that we just might not get everything right, and the more we rigorously pursue God, the more God will be revealed to us, beautiful and glorious, bigger and better than we could have hoped or dreamed God would be. We hope to remain anchored in Jesus, seeing each other through his eyes, being gracious to each other when we disagree, and remaining united in him.” 

I pray this to be as we learn to love one another in the way of Jesus. I hope they will know us by our love.

Friends of Old

There is beauty that comes with age and significance in the days of yore.  Not only did I experience this in Europe several years ago, with the rich culture and pieces of history that seemed to come alive as if I stepped into an old history text book; but I see beauty when I discover the unknown about people and stories.  Most of all, I recognize the beauty and value of relationships that span over many years.

I have a handful of friendships that spread over a decade.  A few of those friends I am still very close with, but two people have really been significant in the ups and downs and the good times and bad.  We have seen one another through job changes, relationships, moves, faith journeys, and life in general.  We know one another deeply and we want to see the absolute best for each other.  We "get" one another.

Last night, we were able to spend some quality time together.  We laughed, we listened, we just were . . . together.  It was a bit of a belated birthday celebration for me, but also time to connect as one of us lives half way across the country.

Side note: it is not a surprise that I love food.  I love trying new and different foods and I very much enjoy experiencing new places.  Last night we ate at Aster Cafe in NE Minneapolis down by St. Anthony Main.  I had been there once when it was simply a coffee joint.  Now, some local owners converted it into a little restaurant.  In addition to it being in a very quaint and storybook-like location, this little corner cafe has the most amazing food!  We started with a cheese platter with brie, bacon, and roasted grapes.  Next, we had an apple spinach salad with aged cheddar and candied walnuts tossed in a vinaigrette.  We also got an artichoke, parmesan, and red pepper flatbread pizza.  So good.  We finished the meal with a chocolate raspberry torte and chocolate cranberry bread pudding.  I will definitely be going back!  Everything on the menu looks amazing.

Anyway, all this to say that I am extremely grateful for friends who have been a significant part of my story and who "get" me.  I experience beauty in these relationships and see the face of Jesus.

I Wonder . . .

In a fair and impartial world, no one would go hungry.  No one would be homeless.  It is hard to fathom what this could look like.  I have always been an advocate for justice, knowing that it directly relates to how I follow Jesus and how I love others.  In more recent years, however, I began to understand how God sees justice.  Though people experience many forms of inequality, poverty is one of the foremost injustices throughout the world.  Through the power struggles, greed, and consumerism, we have left families starving and without a roof over their heads. 

There is a story about manna falling from heaven.  The people were told to go out and collect what they needed for the day.  If they gathered more than they needed, the manna would become full of maggots and smell.  I wonder what my life would look like if everything that I did not need became full of maggots?  Given that the thought of maggots makes me want to vomit, I most likely would not have as much stuff as I do. 

It is communicated, on big and small scales, that we need stuff, that we need the best of the best, and that we need it now.  My humanity wants to rationalize the desire for things; yet I feel freedom and peace in simplifying my life.  This tension keeps me wondering about how my decisions affect people living on the margins of society. 

I know these thoughts can bog us down making us feel overwhelmed and guilty.  Maybe we can’t change people’s lifestyles and thoughts on injustice, but maybe we can begin to ask ourselves questions about how our decisions have a hand in the injustices experienced by others.  I wonder what our world would look like if everyone had equal access to the resources needed to survive.  I wonder . . .