Sometimes, I discover that I knew things in junior high school that I have forgotten. I can remember on some occasions in junior high and high school walking away from conversations because I felt it was unseemly for me to participate in them. There were many more from which I should have departed than I did, but I will count life's small victories where I can. I distinctly remember, as an adult with a group of women from church when I did not just walk away, but I said, "I am not comfortable participating in this conversation." Sometimes, some church women can be the worst in these sorts of conversations (gossip) because they get to hide behind the "bless her hearts," and " she needs our prayers." We all, in my opinion, need prayers, but our struggles do not need to be casually bantered about, often among folks who have only a modicum of understanding of those struggles, under the guise of "helpfulness."
Recently, I was caught in a conversation where I said, "I am not comfortable participating in this conversation." I was told that I was silly, and so I had to admit that might be so, however, my participation in that conversation was not going to happen. Certainly, in the 62 years of my life, I have said those words not nearly enough, enjoying my sense of superiority discussing another's problems, "for as messed up as my life might be, praise God I am not as screwed up as they are."
In a conversation with a dear, precious friend, yesterday, she told me something she was going to do for the purpose of saying it out loud, which created for her a bit of accountability. We rule followers understand that all too well. She knows that I am not going to check up on her to be sure that she is sticking to her resolution, but saying it to someone, made it real and much more difficult to break for her. I get that. Thus, was born this blog.
There are two questions I try to remember to ask myself when I get caught in conversations that make me uncomfortable in my gut. First, would I say this to this person's face, and secondly, if I were the subject of this conversation, would I feel loved and cared for? If the answer to either one is no, then I want and need to walk away. If I am really feeling it, I think I need to say, "this is a conversation in which I am uncomfortable participating." I am not telling you what you should be doing, but I have every right to let you know that I am uncomfortable, and for my own sense of self and to put forth some effort in some small, tiny way to reflect Jesus in this world, I must listen to what my gut is telling me.
I do think we all need a confidant, someone with whom we can share the frustrations we feel are caused by others' actions. I am blessed with two or three people with whom I can share these things. Otherwise, I might explode...or implode.
There, I have said it out loud. I have put it in print. I am accountable to the 2 or 3 of you who read this. I pray that my knee jerk will be to ask, "would I say this to the person's face, and would I feel loved and cared for if I were the topic of this conversation?" Until that becomes my default, I pray that I will analyze, and consider before I join the dialogue.
I do not know who said it, but someone said, "speak only that which love requires." I like that. If all else fails, then the old standby "if you can't say anything nice, say nothing at all."
For today, I wish you the power to speak only that which love requires, and I wish you
blessings
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Departures
Today, I took some folks to the airport. They were leaving behind their two-year-old for the first time. There was a huge struggle to be brave-a struggle for the parents. The two-year-old was fine. He had been well-prepared for his parents' departure so he took it in stride. It brought back memories of other departures in my life.
I remember the first time I left my son. He was ten months old. We went to St. Louis to see baseball games between the Cardinals and the Cubs. 4 games, count them, 4 games in 3 days. Yep, I was blessed with a double-header the last day. Actually, I read Ken Follett's The Eye of the Needle throughout the entire double-header. I needed an escape. But, I digress. The anxious state in which I left would have discouraged a weaker man, as Mr. L had planned this trip for a little get-away. Very thoughtful, but I am sure there were moments he regretted putting forth the effort.
First of all, this was the first time I had ever flown anywhere in a big plane. My dad had a friend named Mr. Butts (giggle, giggle) who, periodically on Sunday afternoons, flew us in his little private plane just around Nashville. I enjoyed any activity with my dad so I always went when asked, even though I was terrified, and barfed every single time upon landing. So, not being very aviation savvy, I had no idea how a big plane stayed in the air, and I was certain we were going to die on the trip. When we were called to board, I felt like a "dead man walking." I think that emotion is a contributor to the visceral reaction I have to the death penalty. All was fine, but 35 years later I still feel queasy when I recall that departure.
I remember our departure when we left MP at UGA. We moved furniture, rearranged pencils in her pencil holder, folded, re-folded clothes, any task to delay our departure. I literally, and I do mean literally, felt physically ill as we said our good-byes. I thought I would not be able to actually walk out of there to the car. Somehow, I managed, and Mr. L and I, through many tears, drove home. 4 years later I sat in the car in a Publix parking lot about to experience yet another departure from MP. She had graduated college, worked a year, and was embarking on a new adventure in the Everglades working with at-risk boys. She would not be home for Thanksgiving, and possibly not Christmas. It was, if memory serves, a three year commitment. She and I both remember it as one of the worst days of our lives. As an aside, the job and lack of safety were severely misrepresented, and she reluctantly and wisely quit and came home. Now that was a joyful reunion!!!
About three weeks after MP left for UGA, Marshall left for Colorado to work on a ranch. We took him to the airport. That was when you could still accompany loved ones to the gate and wait until they departed. We asked all the questions over and over, " do you have this, did you remember that, do you need any more money, etc..." At last, the dreaded announcement that his flight was boarding. I believe we waited until his plane taxied away from the gate. I am fairly certain that anyone who passed us in the airport thought we had just put the dead bodies of all our relatives on that plane for no one would be weeping so if they had just sent someone on an adventure to Colorado. Not long after he returned from Colorado, Marshall went to Atlanta. Oh, why must there be so many departures? Just come home and stay! Well, in a manner of speaking, they both have, and I am very happy about that.
When the Davises moved to Minneapolis. Oh, my goodness, I was so blue. Their last 4th of July here, we went to their house to watch Richland Country Club's fireworks. They lived in the perfect spot for heightened enjoyment of the spectacle. Their house was full of boxes. All the things that made that house their home were now packed away. Beth had great snacks for us. I choked them down past my sadness. Every minute seemed so precious as the time of departure was upon us. I rode to Minneapolis with Beth and the girls because Rick was already there working. I remember when they took me to the airport for me to return to Nashville, I told Beth, "do not get out of the car, do not hug me. " I tearfully departed. We have had many great reunions and somber departures since then. It always helps when we have a date set in the future for our next reunion.
So, departures of all sorts are very difficult. Departures have been on my mind today. Now, onward, for the next four days, I have a wonderful little sidekick to keep me busy. I will probably cry when he departs and goes home...across the street. I know, I know. That is ridiculous. I am forever grateful that my precious ones live in the same town as Fizzie and I.
For today, I wish you a reunion for every departure, and I wish you
Blessings
I remember the first time I left my son. He was ten months old. We went to St. Louis to see baseball games between the Cardinals and the Cubs. 4 games, count them, 4 games in 3 days. Yep, I was blessed with a double-header the last day. Actually, I read Ken Follett's The Eye of the Needle throughout the entire double-header. I needed an escape. But, I digress. The anxious state in which I left would have discouraged a weaker man, as Mr. L had planned this trip for a little get-away. Very thoughtful, but I am sure there were moments he regretted putting forth the effort.
First of all, this was the first time I had ever flown anywhere in a big plane. My dad had a friend named Mr. Butts (giggle, giggle) who, periodically on Sunday afternoons, flew us in his little private plane just around Nashville. I enjoyed any activity with my dad so I always went when asked, even though I was terrified, and barfed every single time upon landing. So, not being very aviation savvy, I had no idea how a big plane stayed in the air, and I was certain we were going to die on the trip. When we were called to board, I felt like a "dead man walking." I think that emotion is a contributor to the visceral reaction I have to the death penalty. All was fine, but 35 years later I still feel queasy when I recall that departure.
I remember our departure when we left MP at UGA. We moved furniture, rearranged pencils in her pencil holder, folded, re-folded clothes, any task to delay our departure. I literally, and I do mean literally, felt physically ill as we said our good-byes. I thought I would not be able to actually walk out of there to the car. Somehow, I managed, and Mr. L and I, through many tears, drove home. 4 years later I sat in the car in a Publix parking lot about to experience yet another departure from MP. She had graduated college, worked a year, and was embarking on a new adventure in the Everglades working with at-risk boys. She would not be home for Thanksgiving, and possibly not Christmas. It was, if memory serves, a three year commitment. She and I both remember it as one of the worst days of our lives. As an aside, the job and lack of safety were severely misrepresented, and she reluctantly and wisely quit and came home. Now that was a joyful reunion!!!
About three weeks after MP left for UGA, Marshall left for Colorado to work on a ranch. We took him to the airport. That was when you could still accompany loved ones to the gate and wait until they departed. We asked all the questions over and over, " do you have this, did you remember that, do you need any more money, etc..." At last, the dreaded announcement that his flight was boarding. I believe we waited until his plane taxied away from the gate. I am fairly certain that anyone who passed us in the airport thought we had just put the dead bodies of all our relatives on that plane for no one would be weeping so if they had just sent someone on an adventure to Colorado. Not long after he returned from Colorado, Marshall went to Atlanta. Oh, why must there be so many departures? Just come home and stay! Well, in a manner of speaking, they both have, and I am very happy about that.
When the Davises moved to Minneapolis. Oh, my goodness, I was so blue. Their last 4th of July here, we went to their house to watch Richland Country Club's fireworks. They lived in the perfect spot for heightened enjoyment of the spectacle. Their house was full of boxes. All the things that made that house their home were now packed away. Beth had great snacks for us. I choked them down past my sadness. Every minute seemed so precious as the time of departure was upon us. I rode to Minneapolis with Beth and the girls because Rick was already there working. I remember when they took me to the airport for me to return to Nashville, I told Beth, "do not get out of the car, do not hug me. " I tearfully departed. We have had many great reunions and somber departures since then. It always helps when we have a date set in the future for our next reunion.
So, departures of all sorts are very difficult. Departures have been on my mind today. Now, onward, for the next four days, I have a wonderful little sidekick to keep me busy. I will probably cry when he departs and goes home...across the street. I know, I know. That is ridiculous. I am forever grateful that my precious ones live in the same town as Fizzie and I.
For today, I wish you a reunion for every departure, and I wish you
Blessings
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Of Little or no Interest to Anyone....But Those of us Who Were There
Wednesday....the best day of the week. Wednesday...the busiest day of the week. This past Wednesday is the last one this summer that I will have both boys together. Some schedules have changed so I will have Simmie Pie on Tuesdays or Thursdays instead. They will still see each other, for Simmie always visits when Max comes to play.
Nunny came by for a short visit. The boys love Nunny, and always ask where Do' Do' is when she comes. Nunny and Do' Do' come as a "set" in the boys' minds. While here, Nunny said something about the boys remembering these days spent with me. I queried as to whether she remembered anything from when she was two. She was not sure, but thinks she remembers an event when she was three involving her older brother, Anderson, who shortly afterward died of leukemia. Simple moments that surround significant events are often forever etched in my memories.
Four years old is about where my memories begin ~ the traumatic year spent at "Miss" Ruby's daycare. So many things I remember about that. Never one to be a squeaky wheel (unless I am in pain, then I can drive the Lord God Almighty bonkers with my complaints - I am dealing with neck pain at the moment) I did not tell my mother how much I hated being at "Miss" Ruby's. She learned it the day when I was 5, and she was gathering together all my new little dresses for day care and I burst into tears. After much prodding, she learned that "Miss" Ruby's was NOT my favorite. I spent my five year old year going to work at the television station with my mom, having lunch at the Krystal with mom and Mae (my grandmother), and just generally having a grand time.
So, I do not think the boys will remember Wednesday, specifically, but I hope the feelings of love and fun and safety and acceptance will be woven into their beings. Neither will I remember many of the specifics of the day, but I, too, will have the joy of the time spent together woven into my being.
I actually planned for the day. By the time Fizzie arrived with Simmie Pie ~ Fizzie goes up to Simeon's house around 6:25 and waits for him to awaken before he comes down to our house for the day. What a spectacular grandfather Mr. L is! The boys adore him. I sort of do too :-) By the time they arrived, I had high chairs on the patio, ghost snow made (microwaved Ivory soap, toilet paper and water - it is, in the words of Max "aweshum!") Tiny, sweet, table grapes were frozen ready to eat. Yogurt popsicles made. Homemade banana ice cream (frozen bananas, vanilla, heavy whipping cream put in the blender until smooth, and then frozen) ready for dessert after lunch, Whole Foods' animal crackers and cheddar bunnies ready for rewards (bribes?) when they came inside when asked, wading pool filled, sprinkler suspended to make a sort of "boy wash" in the vein of a carwash.
Max arrived with all his enthusiasm for life, and at 8:30 am our day together began. It was a great day. Max loves the sprinkler. Simeon is a bit more reserved in his enthusiasm for it.
Nunny came by for a short visit. The boys love Nunny, and always ask where Do' Do' is when she comes. Nunny and Do' Do' come as a "set" in the boys' minds. While here, Nunny said something about the boys remembering these days spent with me. I queried as to whether she remembered anything from when she was two. She was not sure, but thinks she remembers an event when she was three involving her older brother, Anderson, who shortly afterward died of leukemia. Simple moments that surround significant events are often forever etched in my memories.
Four years old is about where my memories begin ~ the traumatic year spent at "Miss" Ruby's daycare. So many things I remember about that. Never one to be a squeaky wheel (unless I am in pain, then I can drive the Lord God Almighty bonkers with my complaints - I am dealing with neck pain at the moment) I did not tell my mother how much I hated being at "Miss" Ruby's. She learned it the day when I was 5, and she was gathering together all my new little dresses for day care and I burst into tears. After much prodding, she learned that "Miss" Ruby's was NOT my favorite. I spent my five year old year going to work at the television station with my mom, having lunch at the Krystal with mom and Mae (my grandmother), and just generally having a grand time.
So, I do not think the boys will remember Wednesday, specifically, but I hope the feelings of love and fun and safety and acceptance will be woven into their beings. Neither will I remember many of the specifics of the day, but I, too, will have the joy of the time spent together woven into my being.
I actually planned for the day. By the time Fizzie arrived with Simmie Pie ~ Fizzie goes up to Simeon's house around 6:25 and waits for him to awaken before he comes down to our house for the day. What a spectacular grandfather Mr. L is! The boys adore him. I sort of do too :-) By the time they arrived, I had high chairs on the patio, ghost snow made (microwaved Ivory soap, toilet paper and water - it is, in the words of Max "aweshum!") Tiny, sweet, table grapes were frozen ready to eat. Yogurt popsicles made. Homemade banana ice cream (frozen bananas, vanilla, heavy whipping cream put in the blender until smooth, and then frozen) ready for dessert after lunch, Whole Foods' animal crackers and cheddar bunnies ready for rewards (bribes?) when they came inside when asked, wading pool filled, sprinkler suspended to make a sort of "boy wash" in the vein of a carwash.
Max arrived with all his enthusiasm for life, and at 8:30 am our day together began. It was a great day. Max loves the sprinkler. Simeon is a bit more reserved in his enthusiasm for it.
Simeon really prefers to have control over where the water goes rather than just willy nilly running through it. This picture was not actually taken this Wednesday, but it is indicative of the different approaches to the sprinkler. The wading pool is a fascination for both boys, however they do want to transfer pea gravel from Rocky, the purple dinosaur, to it. I highly discourage this activity, which results in either tears or defiance. I try to kindly deal with both. Max was not sure if it was okay to sit in the pool, but once I assured him it was fine, he would stand up and jump in the "deep end." Our yard is on a slope, which makes a shallow end and a deep end for our little wading pool. How perfect is that? This impromptu hug just melted my heart.
So, this specific hug will not be remembered by these boys, but I pray the feeling of love and "this is my buddy" will. After lots of time in the pool and sprinkler, it was craft time ~ working with our ghost snow. It was a bigger hit than I expected. Not much was molded from it, but the relaxation derived from just squishing it and throwing it was priceless.
We ate, we played, we watched Daniel Tiger on TV and Winnie the Pooh on the IPad before bedtime. Max was a champ climbing into the crib on the ladder (my neck). It has become a great game, but of course the door has to stay shut tightly so they do not climb up the ladder unsupervised. We water colored, spilled purple star glitter all over the floor, one of us may have had a drink of paint water (oops), we sang and danced and giggled and cried a little. We shared and we fought over certain things. All in all, a really great day, that I do not take for granted. I am very fortunate to be able to have a work schedule that allows me to spend time with the boys. I am most fortunate that these precious children live where I live. Again, I do not take any of it for granted, for I know it could be so much different. Oh, and one thing I learned on Wednesday ~ not just boys can pee in the backyard when desperate. Seriously, did I, raised by Mary Williams, just use the word "pee" in a blog?
For today, I wish you time in the presence of children, and I wish you
blessings
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Bible Bangin' People Haters
This blog is not based on theology. I do not have a Ph.d. in anything. I am not a learned Bible scholar. Frankly, I am not really all that observant, but I do observe some behavior that both puzzles and convicts me, for I am guilty of most every thing about which I am going to complain.
I am most aware of Bible Bangin' People Haters on Facebook. Recently, I was like a crazed lunatic trying to remember how to block some one's posts. I mean it was like my computer (or I) was going to go up in smoke if I did not get this person off my daily news feed......IMMEDIATELY! Being, the propah Southern girl that I am, I could not just unfriend them, because then they would know and it might hurt their feelings (as if) so I had to hide their posts without them knowing it. Wow, how direct and brave am I? But, I have convinced myself that it was to spare their feelings, not because I am such a coward. Actually, it is because Facebook, in my opinion, is not the place for the airing of grievances. Obviously, I think a blog is. Go figure.
This may come as a shock to many of you, but God is not a Republican (nor a Democrat, nor a member of any other political party). Can that possibly be true? Yes, yes it is. Many Bible Bangin' People Haters would vehemently disagree with me, because if God is not a Republican, how can they justify their complete, bordering-on-hatred dislike of Democrats? Let me be the first to say, that I am not a big Barack Obama fan, and he seems to be the one most despised at the moment by Bible Bangers. I have also come to not concern myself with "respecting the office" because so many of those who have held the office have disrespected it in ways beyond mentioning.
Sorry to report, but God is not a U.S. citizen, and to further offend, he is not a Southerner. He is not white. He is not black. He does not only live in the affluent suburbs. He actually may be even harder to find there. He lives in ghettos, and prisons, and mental hospitals, and under bridges, and in drug rehab centers. He walks beside the offended AND the offensive. He has all the answers, but he does not beat us over the head with them, but rather coaxes and loves us to find them. This is very much unlike those of us Bible Bangers who do not have all the answers but think we do, so we bang people over the head with scripture, when in fact what we might better do is hold them with the love of the Lord.
Forgive me if I sound ignorant, but isn't this Bible we read so diligently a means for teaching us the true nature of God? Wasn't the meaning of Jesus' life to show us the face of God? Bible banging and people hating are incompatible. They should not be able to coexist. In my opinion, and my opinion is all I have here, we cannot be a lover of the teachings in the Bible and hate people. We cannot. I may not be a Barack Obama fan, but God is, and not because he is president of the United States. God is a fan of all his children, and make no mistake, every living human being is a child of God, not just white, protestant, middle class, Southern Americans. So, I better get about the business of being a fan of every person I meet no matter how frustrating I may find them.
This does not mean that I have to agree with their politics, their conduct, their lifestyle, whatever, but it does mean that I am called to love them, wholly and completely. Not warm fuzzy, oh-they-make-me-feel-so-good love, but the down in the trenches, hard choice of treating others with respect and dignity, and yes, love even when I do not feel like it~perhaps, especially when I do not feel like it.
If you are a FB friend who is a Bible Bangin' People Hater, I love you, but I will block you. I am fairly certain that your life will continue just fine without being on my news feed, but I hope all of us will think twice before we blast away at one person, or a whole group of people, especially, if we call ourselves lovers of The Word. It is unseemly.
For today, I wish us all opportunities to choose love, and I wish you
blessings
I am most aware of Bible Bangin' People Haters on Facebook. Recently, I was like a crazed lunatic trying to remember how to block some one's posts. I mean it was like my computer (or I) was going to go up in smoke if I did not get this person off my daily news feed......IMMEDIATELY! Being, the propah Southern girl that I am, I could not just unfriend them, because then they would know and it might hurt their feelings (as if) so I had to hide their posts without them knowing it. Wow, how direct and brave am I? But, I have convinced myself that it was to spare their feelings, not because I am such a coward. Actually, it is because Facebook, in my opinion, is not the place for the airing of grievances. Obviously, I think a blog is. Go figure.
This may come as a shock to many of you, but God is not a Republican (nor a Democrat, nor a member of any other political party). Can that possibly be true? Yes, yes it is. Many Bible Bangin' People Haters would vehemently disagree with me, because if God is not a Republican, how can they justify their complete, bordering-on-hatred dislike of Democrats? Let me be the first to say, that I am not a big Barack Obama fan, and he seems to be the one most despised at the moment by Bible Bangers. I have also come to not concern myself with "respecting the office" because so many of those who have held the office have disrespected it in ways beyond mentioning.
Sorry to report, but God is not a U.S. citizen, and to further offend, he is not a Southerner. He is not white. He is not black. He does not only live in the affluent suburbs. He actually may be even harder to find there. He lives in ghettos, and prisons, and mental hospitals, and under bridges, and in drug rehab centers. He walks beside the offended AND the offensive. He has all the answers, but he does not beat us over the head with them, but rather coaxes and loves us to find them. This is very much unlike those of us Bible Bangers who do not have all the answers but think we do, so we bang people over the head with scripture, when in fact what we might better do is hold them with the love of the Lord.
Forgive me if I sound ignorant, but isn't this Bible we read so diligently a means for teaching us the true nature of God? Wasn't the meaning of Jesus' life to show us the face of God? Bible banging and people hating are incompatible. They should not be able to coexist. In my opinion, and my opinion is all I have here, we cannot be a lover of the teachings in the Bible and hate people. We cannot. I may not be a Barack Obama fan, but God is, and not because he is president of the United States. God is a fan of all his children, and make no mistake, every living human being is a child of God, not just white, protestant, middle class, Southern Americans. So, I better get about the business of being a fan of every person I meet no matter how frustrating I may find them.
This does not mean that I have to agree with their politics, their conduct, their lifestyle, whatever, but it does mean that I am called to love them, wholly and completely. Not warm fuzzy, oh-they-make-me-feel-so-good love, but the down in the trenches, hard choice of treating others with respect and dignity, and yes, love even when I do not feel like it~perhaps, especially when I do not feel like it.
If you are a FB friend who is a Bible Bangin' People Hater, I love you, but I will block you. I am fairly certain that your life will continue just fine without being on my news feed, but I hope all of us will think twice before we blast away at one person, or a whole group of people, especially, if we call ourselves lovers of The Word. It is unseemly.
For today, I wish us all opportunities to choose love, and I wish you
blessings
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Why I Don't Do Church
I do not do Church because of the scripture Hebrews 10:25 concerning not "forsaking the assembly." Growing up, I believed that was a threat, and if I failed to attend a service, there was a fiendishly delighted god just waiting to take his wide-tipped Magic Marker and put a giant black mark by my name in the Lamb's Book of Life..., or worse, a grieving, sorrowful god, saddened by the fact that he must turn his face from me for my lack of obedience. Let me say right now, for those in my youth who by word or deed made me view Hebrews 10:25 in a frightful way, I appreciate your diligence and your ethics and your desire to please the God you serve. I know your words and actions were from a genuinely loving heart, seeking to help me "get to heaven." I appreciate you, but I do not do Church for that.
I do not do Church because I am looking for a good, moral, Biblical lesson taught with great oratory skill. I can stay home and watch a preacher on TV or drop in any of some 1,000 places of worship in my home town. I do not do Church for that.
I do not do Church to keep myself unspotted from the "wicked" people out there "in the world." It would be a woeful misconception to think that is possible anywhere, including Church , because, guess what, I am there. I do not do Church for that.
I do not do Church because I need more friends and a social life, and that is a good place to find them. Actually, the older I get, the more I realize that I am not really looking for a "social life." I do not do Church for that.
BUT.....
I do Church because of Hebrews 10:25. I now think of it as a gift. For me, and I can and am speaking only for myself, the assembly is very important. I have come to believe that these assemblies we are encouraged to not forsake are for our good, and give us the opportunity to be of some good to others. I find that those who assemble can do so much more together than they can individually. The particular community with which I work asked us to give $60,000.00 for a Habitat for Humanity build. We raised over $100,000.00. I gave a miniscule, I mean teeny tiny, part of that. Others gave less (maybe), still others gave much more. None of us could have done it alone, but together we were able to do mighty deeds. I do Church for this.
I do Church because I need to hear what learned people are saying. I am blessed in my particular church community by young people who challenge me with their study, their wisdom, their humility, and, yes, their skill in articulating lessons of great value. I am grateful for their introduction of people of other faiths and beliefs and thoughts. I am forever grateful to them for freeing me from believing that I have to have all the answers. What a blessing. I need their encouragement. I do Church because older, wiser people share the lessons they have learned along the way. I do Church because there are people who can actually in 3 minutes or less, give a synopsis of Paradise Lost. I do Church for this.
I do Church because it reminds me that I am wounded and flawed and that the only response that is appropriate for me to offer those who are also wounded and flawed is the grace and mercy I solicit from them. I do Church because together a place like Next Right Step shines a light on God's love for those struggling with addiction. Everyone is held accountable - but held accountable in love and community, and when one grows too weary to deal with another's pain, someone else stands in the gap. Not all of us are called to work in this area, but all of us together can encourage and love and support in myriad ways the work. I do Church for this.
I do Church because there are people there who love my grandsons, and do not hesitate to tell them and me. I do Church because on one blessed Sunday morning I was given the privilege of hugging a young friend just about ready to deliver her first child. We, alongside others, walked through dark days of loss and deep feelings of hopelessness that a baby would ever come to this family. Now, we share the joy of expectation. While hugging that young woman, another young friend came up with whom I have walked through similarly dark days, gorgeous baby boy in tow. It was his first Sunday for the assembly. What a joy and a gift to assemble with these glowing examples of.....I don't know....Church? I stood and talked with another friend who recently lost her father. She is grieving so, but that assembly bolsters her spirit for another week of living her new normal with her father gone - well, physically gone. He will always live within her, her siblings, their children etc. I do Church because of the relatively new friend, the ever-serving, new friend, who shouts across the foyer to tell me hi and give me a hug. She, just a week before had lifted a burden from me, in her usual efficient, selfless way. I do Church because it gives me the opportunity to walk hand-in-hand with those who struggle, as others have walked and continue to walk with me. I do Church so we can claim the victory together. I do Church for this.
For today, I wish you blessings,
I do not do Church because I am looking for a good, moral, Biblical lesson taught with great oratory skill. I can stay home and watch a preacher on TV or drop in any of some 1,000 places of worship in my home town. I do not do Church for that.
I do not do Church to keep myself unspotted from the "wicked" people out there "in the world." It would be a woeful misconception to think that is possible anywhere, including Church , because, guess what, I am there. I do not do Church for that.
I do not do Church because I need more friends and a social life, and that is a good place to find them. Actually, the older I get, the more I realize that I am not really looking for a "social life." I do not do Church for that.
BUT.....
I do Church because of Hebrews 10:25. I now think of it as a gift. For me, and I can and am speaking only for myself, the assembly is very important. I have come to believe that these assemblies we are encouraged to not forsake are for our good, and give us the opportunity to be of some good to others. I find that those who assemble can do so much more together than they can individually. The particular community with which I work asked us to give $60,000.00 for a Habitat for Humanity build. We raised over $100,000.00. I gave a miniscule, I mean teeny tiny, part of that. Others gave less (maybe), still others gave much more. None of us could have done it alone, but together we were able to do mighty deeds. I do Church for this.
I do Church because I need to hear what learned people are saying. I am blessed in my particular church community by young people who challenge me with their study, their wisdom, their humility, and, yes, their skill in articulating lessons of great value. I am grateful for their introduction of people of other faiths and beliefs and thoughts. I am forever grateful to them for freeing me from believing that I have to have all the answers. What a blessing. I need their encouragement. I do Church because older, wiser people share the lessons they have learned along the way. I do Church because there are people who can actually in 3 minutes or less, give a synopsis of Paradise Lost. I do Church for this.
I do Church because it reminds me that I am wounded and flawed and that the only response that is appropriate for me to offer those who are also wounded and flawed is the grace and mercy I solicit from them. I do Church because together a place like Next Right Step shines a light on God's love for those struggling with addiction. Everyone is held accountable - but held accountable in love and community, and when one grows too weary to deal with another's pain, someone else stands in the gap. Not all of us are called to work in this area, but all of us together can encourage and love and support in myriad ways the work. I do Church for this.
I do Church because there are people there who love my grandsons, and do not hesitate to tell them and me. I do Church because on one blessed Sunday morning I was given the privilege of hugging a young friend just about ready to deliver her first child. We, alongside others, walked through dark days of loss and deep feelings of hopelessness that a baby would ever come to this family. Now, we share the joy of expectation. While hugging that young woman, another young friend came up with whom I have walked through similarly dark days, gorgeous baby boy in tow. It was his first Sunday for the assembly. What a joy and a gift to assemble with these glowing examples of.....I don't know....Church? I stood and talked with another friend who recently lost her father. She is grieving so, but that assembly bolsters her spirit for another week of living her new normal with her father gone - well, physically gone. He will always live within her, her siblings, their children etc. I do Church because of the relatively new friend, the ever-serving, new friend, who shouts across the foyer to tell me hi and give me a hug. She, just a week before had lifted a burden from me, in her usual efficient, selfless way. I do Church because it gives me the opportunity to walk hand-in-hand with those who struggle, as others have walked and continue to walk with me. I do Church so we can claim the victory together. I do Church for this.
For today, I wish you blessings,
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Is God a Dropout?
Recently, I have seen on FB things like "put God back in schools," "let's get God back into our schools etc.." I get the meaning, I do. I love to hear a prayer before a sporting event asking God's protection on players, and soliciting good sportsmanship. I make no apology for believing in the power of prayer, though I must be honest in admitting I have neither explanation nor understanding why some prayers seem to be answered and others do not. I don't know, yet I still believe, and, frankly, I am not sure why my faith is unwavering. Certainly, I have been disappointed on numerous occasions when my prayers seem to have gone unheard. Maybe that is a blog for another day.
My contention is that God has not dropped out of our schools. I think He is present in ways far more powerful than a worded prayer. God is in the student who chooses to be inclusive rather than exclusive, and makes a point to be kind to classmates in spite of their popularity or lack thereof. God is in the student who stands up for those being bullied. God is also present when that same student understands that the bully is hurting and scared. God shows up when a student realizes he forgot to study for a test but chooses to take a bad grade rather than cheat. God is in the student who makes the hard choice to not go along with the crowd.
God is in the teacher who diligently prepares for class in order to give her students her best effort. God is in the teacher who guides and corrects and does not belittle and berate. God is in the teacher who taps into his or her creativity to develop different ways to teach so that unique learners have a chance at success. God is in that teacher who comes early and stays late. God is in teachers who teach students, not subjects, who understand the whole point of this thing is to create an environment where kids learn to be productive adults. God is in the teacher who demands excellence but recognizes effort when excellence is not achieved.
God is in the cafeteria worker who puts a little extra food on a plate for a child whose only meal that day will be at school. God is in the janitor who cleans well so that children have a safe environment. God is in the principal who holds teachers, parents, and students accountable. God is in the coach who knows it is not about the game, it is about life. God is in the school bookkeeper who can be trusted to handle funds properly. God is in the school nurse who lovingly tends to runny noses, vomiting children, and those who just need a little attention.
God is not a dropout. God does not need an invitation back into our schools. He does not need an act of Congress to be present, nor can laws keep Him away. He is there.
For today, I wish you an awareness of God's presence and I wish you
blessings
My contention is that God has not dropped out of our schools. I think He is present in ways far more powerful than a worded prayer. God is in the student who chooses to be inclusive rather than exclusive, and makes a point to be kind to classmates in spite of their popularity or lack thereof. God is in the student who stands up for those being bullied. God is also present when that same student understands that the bully is hurting and scared. God shows up when a student realizes he forgot to study for a test but chooses to take a bad grade rather than cheat. God is in the student who makes the hard choice to not go along with the crowd.
God is in the teacher who diligently prepares for class in order to give her students her best effort. God is in the teacher who guides and corrects and does not belittle and berate. God is in the teacher who taps into his or her creativity to develop different ways to teach so that unique learners have a chance at success. God is in that teacher who comes early and stays late. God is in teachers who teach students, not subjects, who understand the whole point of this thing is to create an environment where kids learn to be productive adults. God is in the teacher who demands excellence but recognizes effort when excellence is not achieved.
God is in the cafeteria worker who puts a little extra food on a plate for a child whose only meal that day will be at school. God is in the janitor who cleans well so that children have a safe environment. God is in the principal who holds teachers, parents, and students accountable. God is in the coach who knows it is not about the game, it is about life. God is in the school bookkeeper who can be trusted to handle funds properly. God is in the school nurse who lovingly tends to runny noses, vomiting children, and those who just need a little attention.
God is not a dropout. God does not need an invitation back into our schools. He does not need an act of Congress to be present, nor can laws keep Him away. He is there.
For today, I wish you an awareness of God's presence and I wish you
blessings
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Is Anybody Dead?
It has been a stressful few days. Stress relief came in a most unusual way this evening. Mr. Lincoln, lovely man that he is, drives MP to Vanderbilt most Saturday and Sunday mornings. I might add that he always stops at McDonald's and gets me a large Diet Coke. He does not approve of my beverage of choice, but he buys one for me anyway. This morning was no exception. Did I mention that she goes to work at 5:45? It is a Switzer thing to leave home an hour and fifteen minutes before one has to be at work some fifteen minutes from home. He returned home, ran for about two hours, helped babysit both boys, went to the office downtown and worked three or more hours, returned home to drive me to Stallworth to visit my mother so that I would not have to walk very far as I am dealing with issues from the hamstring pull I accomplished during the infamous reindeer antler retrieval event, drove home, watched a little football before returning to Vanderbilt to pick me up and wait for MP's text that she was headed down at which time he departs his holding spot to time the pick up perfectly. What a man!!!
Things went a bit awry, however. MP's text "I'm headed down" came in so we pulled out to drive the two blocks to meet her. At the light at 25th and Children's Way, a CSO (Community Service Officer) was stopped. We could tell that he was either texting or surfing the web on his phone. When the light turned green, Mr. CSO #972 did not move. Mr. Lincoln did what anyone would do in the circumstance; he gently tapped his horn to make the distracted officer aware that the light had changed. There was no response, so Mr. L. tapped again, then again, a bit more forcefully, then again. At this time, the officer got out of his car, walked back in a semi-menacing demeanor demanding, "what's the problem?"
"I am trying to get by so that I can pick up my daughter and you are just sitting there."
"Go around!"
So, Mr. L. backed up to get around the CSO (we were thinking perhaps he flunked out of CSI school) and promptly hit the car behind us. The lady driving said car was most displeased. We are not sure why because prior to this fender bender, the front grill of her car was dangling, there was about an 18 inch section missing, and a long scratch down the side that never came in contact with Mr. L's vehicle. We figured that she was no stranger to minor accidents. Her upset seemed a bit extreme so Mr. Lincoln asked, "is anyone dead?" She was not amused and demanded an "inspection."
The police officer who was called to the scene of the accident commented that the CSO was the whole cause of the accident, and tried to convince the lady to just forget the whole thing. She was having none of it, so the officer asked, "did this damage happen just now?" "No." "Did this?" "No." "Or this?" "No." "Then what is the problem." "I think I see a scratch."
So all information was exchanged. In the meantime on the sidewalk the intoxicated gentleman who had just jumped into the CSO's truck was waving his arms, trying to stand on one foot, and seemingly explaining something of great consequence.
Finally, the traffic officer returned Mr. L's insurance card and license asking him to pull on up so the lady with the banged up car did not back into him. The CSO began to back up coming at a rate of speed that caused the traffic officer to exclaim, "holy #%$x, that guy is giving me a heart attack."
Laughter ensued. Stress relieved.
So for today, I wish you non injurious moments of hilarity, and I wish you
Blessings
Things went a bit awry, however. MP's text "I'm headed down" came in so we pulled out to drive the two blocks to meet her. At the light at 25th and Children's Way, a CSO (Community Service Officer) was stopped. We could tell that he was either texting or surfing the web on his phone. When the light turned green, Mr. CSO #972 did not move. Mr. Lincoln did what anyone would do in the circumstance; he gently tapped his horn to make the distracted officer aware that the light had changed. There was no response, so Mr. L. tapped again, then again, a bit more forcefully, then again. At this time, the officer got out of his car, walked back in a semi-menacing demeanor demanding, "what's the problem?"
"I am trying to get by so that I can pick up my daughter and you are just sitting there."
"Go around!"
So, Mr. L. backed up to get around the CSO (we were thinking perhaps he flunked out of CSI school) and promptly hit the car behind us. The lady driving said car was most displeased. We are not sure why because prior to this fender bender, the front grill of her car was dangling, there was about an 18 inch section missing, and a long scratch down the side that never came in contact with Mr. L's vehicle. We figured that she was no stranger to minor accidents. Her upset seemed a bit extreme so Mr. Lincoln asked, "is anyone dead?" She was not amused and demanded an "inspection."
The police officer who was called to the scene of the accident commented that the CSO was the whole cause of the accident, and tried to convince the lady to just forget the whole thing. She was having none of it, so the officer asked, "did this damage happen just now?" "No." "Did this?" "No." "Or this?" "No." "Then what is the problem." "I think I see a scratch."
So all information was exchanged. In the meantime on the sidewalk the intoxicated gentleman who had just jumped into the CSO's truck was waving his arms, trying to stand on one foot, and seemingly explaining something of great consequence.
Finally, the traffic officer returned Mr. L's insurance card and license asking him to pull on up so the lady with the banged up car did not back into him. The CSO began to back up coming at a rate of speed that caused the traffic officer to exclaim, "holy #%$x, that guy is giving me a heart attack."
Laughter ensued. Stress relieved.
So for today, I wish you non injurious moments of hilarity, and I wish you
Blessings
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