Filters

I've been thinking a lot about filters.  I even recently talked a bit about filters over at 365.  Not just the ones that make my pictures look amazing or at least better but the filters that we have access to for filtering out gunk. Gunk from our water, gunk from the air, gunk from the engines running our cars. Or the filters that allow all the good stuff from something to be more present, such as coffee and tea.  Or the filters that allow the unnecessary to fall away to reveal the treasure.

If you are social media savvy and have heard of Instagram then perhaps you also know that you can put filters on the pictures you take before you share them with people.  This has made a whole bunch of average to terrible picture snappers look like they know what they are doing.  The filters Instagram offers cover a multitude of flaws, soften the sharp edges, and sharpen the too soft places.  I know filters for cameras have been around for a really long time but they have never been as accessible as they are now to the average person.  Now we all have the capability to reach for Ansel Adams heights thanks to filters!  (Yes, I am being sarcastic.)  I confess I filter the majority of my pictures and if I don't, I feel the responsibility to let everyone else know that the picture is awesome all on its own with no assistance. That's where #nofilterneeded comes into play.  I recently posted a couple of pictures of myself, which is rare to begin with.  I have zero desire to take part in the selfie craze.  But I did and I was struck with what I felt needed to be filtered and what didn't.

Here I am in the Summer of 1978.
I was four years old.
#nofilterneeded

Here I am in the Summer of 2014.
I am (almost) 40 years old.
I filtered the heck out of this picture,
I think I used every single filter there was.

What happened to my eyes and perception of self between 1978 and 2014?  That's what I am struck by.

Throughout the years I put filters in place but they worked in reverse.  Instead of filtering out the gunk they seemed to have filtered out the good. Life seems to have had a way in filtering out the potential I have within me and leaving me feeling defeated, tired, worn, and shamed.  The gunk stayed in while the treasure flowed out.  In 1978 I was too young to know defeat, but by 2014 it's an almost daily battle to not feel it.

I put the filters in place to protect myself, to shield myself from people and hurtful circumstances but the filters were faulty.  They seemed to have worked in reverse and by the time I realized they were broken and I needed to change them out I had years of gunk built up inside of me to clean out.  And some of the gunk had been there for so long that it had burrowed into my heart and set up like concrete. It was going to take some serious sweat equity to get cleaned up.  What happens over the course of years doesn't get cleaned up in a couple of days, and my 30's were spent cleaning up the gunk.  Yes, it has taken an entire decade. And then some.  Not all the gunk is cleaned out.  I'm still chipping away at the hardened muck of years gone by.

Evidence of this is the two pictures above.  In my (humble) opinion I am one of the cutest 4 year olds ever, *grin*, but at some point my eyes stopped seeing cute when they glanced at me in the mirror.  Over the years my eyes changed, my perception of self changed and today I shy away from too much time in the mirror or being looked at.  It's one of the many reasons I have zero desire to join in on the selfie craze.  I tell my redheads all the time that their eyes see differently than anyone else who looks at them.  I suppose if that is true for them, it is also true for me.  So my eyes have faulty filters still. In a decade that hasn't changed. So I still have to keep chipping away at the gunk.

When I entered my 30's it is like an alarm sounded in my life.  Warning: Filters need to be changed immediately.  So I put the sweat equity in and began the process of changing them out for new ones that worked how they were supposed to - gunk out, good in.  Turns out I needed a filter overhaul.  My mind needed a new filter, my mouth needed one too!  And my heart. Well, the filter on my heart was the most faulty of all.  And as I worked on my heart the other areas that needed a filter were easier to clean up.  So it's true, life starts in the heart and what is contained there flows out to the rest of us.

As I clean out the gunk and put the right kind of filter in place I have to be diligent to keep up on the maintenance. In our refrigerator we have a water dispenser and it gives us filtered water. But in order to keep getting filtered water we have to change out the filter 4 times a year.  Why? Because a filter catches the gunk and stops it from contaminating.  Same thing for our furnace, although we have to change the furnace filter monthly because of all the stuff floating around in our air.  So I have to be diligent in maintaining the filters on my heart, my mind, my mouth, etc and for the same reasons.  There's a lot of gunk floating around the air that my inner life breathes and ingests and I need the right kind of filter to catch those things and keep me from contamination.  And that has to be maintained by me.  Nobody else is going to take care of my filters, I'm the only one who can do that. Oh sure, other people have tried to maintain my filters for me but that never works out very well. They don't know my inner person the way the One who created me does and the way the One who created me calls me to maintenance. So I still have some sweat equity to put in but maintenance requires much less energy than cleaning up years of gunk.

While writing I stopped and took a selfie.  I, like when I was 4, have no make up on today and my curls aren't as noticeable because I put a headband on wet hair this morning.  My eyes look at the picture and send the message to my heart, "Many filters needed."  SIGH.  Thank goodness for the promise that what has been started in me will be completed, because I am a long ways off from being completed in that area of my life.  But my Creator is patient and kind and because of him I know now what kind of filters to apply to my life.

What about you? What faulty filters do you need to change out and replace with new, ones that actually work for you and not against you?

*Perspectives: On Parenting - Part 2

(If you missed it, here's Part 1)

*Perspective: A way of looking at a situation.  I'm a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mom, aunt, and employee.  
I don't claim to be an expert on anything nor have all the answers to something.  

Please bear that in mind as you read my perspective.  Chances are good it will differ from your own.  

It's okay to have different ones!

To be a parent is to experience love and heartbreak in ways you never thought were even possible.  A kind of heartbreak I experience is when "Mama Bear" wants to defend her cubs from the hurt that has been dealt them.  Another kind of heartbreak is when your children push back at you for attempting to raise them to be responsible and lovely human beings.

I never thought about parenting before I became one.  Some parents I know had thought about it beforehand.  Some had decided they wanted to do things just like their parents did or exactly the opposite of their parents.  Some decided to do a few things their parents did.  But I never thought about it.  I never thought about what my parents did or didn't do so along with my hub I just parented how my gut and my God led me.  My hub and I never really discussed parenting either. Most couples discuss parenting styles so they know if they are on the same page or not but we never did.  We just parented.  And it has truly been by the grace of God that our redheads are really wonderful and unique human beings.  If they are at all like me they are version 2.0 while I am version 1.0.  There are parts of me that are envious of them, sometimes I say I want to be like them when I grow up. 

But both girls, in their own unique ways, have pushed back at our parenting in the past year or so.  Until this past year, in fact not until last week, did I realize that parenting teens is triggering some issues I dealt with long ago. I have found myself anxious, fearful, uncertain, frustrated.  This is not my typical parenting personality.  But with the push back we have received I find myself in a place I haven't been in a very long time. 

My spike in anxiety levels is symptomatic of classic people pleasing.  Hey, we all, myself included, want our kids to like us. But the reality is sometimes they aren't going to.  When the girls were younger, before Middle School years, I didn't allow my desire for them to like me affect my parenting or me in any way.  I had no problems if they decided not to like me for a minute or two.  I think mostly because it truly would only be a minute or two.  But then the moments of not liking me stretched out and the tension it created was uncomfortable.  People pleasers, in recovery or not, don't like tension.  The temptation to smooth things over was always present but until the fine art of negotiation began I never gave in to it.

In the past year or so our oldest has started negotiating with us.  It's one thing to make an appeal, it's another thing to negotiate.  And after months of this I can't take it anymore. It has sucked the very life out of me.  I dread any communication I have to have with her that I know she won't like and will push back on. At times, because of her insistence, the hub and I have compromised - we give in halfway and really to give in halfway is to give in all the way.  I believe we have done it because we don't want our daughter to be mad at us or not like us. But the reality is, at some point she's going to be mad at us and not like us.  We have to find a way to be okay with it and, as my sister-in-love said, continue to "get up in her grill." We have a responsibility to our children.  Whether they know it or not, whether they like it or not, they need us to stand our ground with them. 

I feel the weight of parenting on my heart these days.  And I feel the weight of my own struggles that parenting triggers.  Each time the hub and I decide a talk with one, or both, of our children needs to be had my heart feels about 10 times heavier than normal.  My anxiety rises and threatens to override my "Mama Bear" gut instinct. That's right.  "Mama Bear" fights for her cubs, defensively and offensively.  Not only do I fight for them when their hearts have been wounded by others but I fight for them when their hearts are being threatened by choices they are making and I know will wound them at some point.  "Mama Bear" and I aren't always going to win the fight but we need to at least show up and when I allow my people pleasing anxiety to interfere in the fight then I, and my daughters, lose. I'm incongruous. I happen to know that my gut instinct is always spot on so when I make a decision opposite it I am doing nobody any favors.

So on the nights I'm not laying there in the dark heart racing with fear over their emotional trauma, I'm laying there with heart racing over the disservice I may do them if I give in and don't stand my ground.  I utter prayers to God for wisdom and discernment.  I've asked, consistently, that if either one of my children are doing something that isn't right or trying to hide something from us then God would expose it so it could be dealt with.  I struggle internally with my fears of my children disliking me, being mad at me, distancing themselves from me.  And lately this happens more often than not.  It's been a hard and challenging "year" of parenting and the internal struggle with my issues combined with the external struggle with the oldest has exhausted me.  I am worn out, run down, living a black hole life.  But "Mama Bear" and I need to keep showing up for the fight for their hearts.  In the end it doesn't matter how worn out and run down I get, their hearts are worth it.  I just hope that someday my sweet redheads realize that. 

*Perspectives: On Parenting - Part 1

*Perspective: A way of looking at a situation.  I'm a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mom, aunt, and employee.  I don't claim to be an expert on anything nor have all the answers to something.  Please bear that in mind as you read my perspective.  Chances are good it will differ from your own.  It's okay to have different ones!

When I held them in my arms just minutes after they were born all those years ago I prayed and wished more for them than what I was.  As they grew older and the hub and I had to make decisions and draw boundaries and sometimes swim upstream against culture I prayed and wished more for them than what I was.  With each passing year I breathed a sigh of relief that we all grew through the year and incredibly they were already better than what I was.  Still I prayed and wished more for them than what I was.  We faced the awkward Middle School years and we have not survived them, we have thrived in them.  Still I pray and wish more for them than what I was.  With one halfway through high school and one on the cusp of high school I dare to hope that they will continue to be more than what I was.  

This past year parenting became challenging, scary, hurtful, hard.  Both of our girls have experienced some emotional trauma and if you are a parent you know what that does to your own heart.  

I experienced my own emotional trauma (who hasn't?) in 6th grade. Sixth grade was a very defining year for me, although I wouldn't realize it until years later.  I'll spare you the details but this one: when I got home from school the day that this emotional trauma peaked, I walked into my Mama's bedroom with a tear streaked face and head hung in shame.  She picked up her phone, dialed the school, and gave the Principal of the school an earful.  The next week I found myself in a counselor's office.  My Mama showed me her heart that day when she went "Mama Bear" on my behalf.  As I said, that day was very defining.  I came away from my sixth grade year believing these messages about myself, "You are worthless", "You are not enough", "You will never be able to get 'it' right", "Your voice doesn't count", "You must be perfect", and other messages along those lines. Awesome right? Well I lived out of those messages for years, it wasn't until the past 10 years that I finally faced them and dealt with them.  So when I held my sweet redheads in my arms the day they were born and prayed and wished for them to be more than what I was, it was those messages I was praying out of their lives before they ever had a chance to enter in.  My hub and I have made sure that we communicate to our children the very opposite of what I lived with for years.  

But sometimes the lies are just a little louder or a little bolder than we anticipate. And until the past year my oldest redhead was strong in spirit, confident of herself, bold in her convictions, unwilling to allow peer pressure to speak into her life.  Somewhere along the way the little lies wiggled in until they sounded like her own voice.  My heart is broken. I wanted so desperately for my girls to not have to struggle with these kinds of lies. When I hear my oldest say these things that are not true I get angry and I'm devastated.  When my hub and I attempt to speak truth into her life and she rolls her eyes in disbelief or withdraws saying something like, "You have to say that because you are my parents" I feel a little part of my heart die.  When she allows the lies to convince her that we, her parents, don't believe in her or her potential I am angered and sick to my stomach. I know this battle.  I fought this battle for many years before finally finding victory.  It is an exhausting and damaging battle.  I don't want my child to fight this battle, there will be plenty of others she will have to fight.  

With my stomach in knots, my hands clammy, and my heart racing a mile a minute I lay in bed at night and I pray and I wish for her, for both of them, to be more than what I was and am.  And with my life experience as part of my guidebook for this adventure called parenting I, with a sinking heart, seek out a counselor she would be willing to talk to and to connect with so that she doesn't have to battle these lies for the next 15 years.  I look at her sister, so quirky in all good ways, and wonder what lies are already trying to wiggle in past the truth her Dad and I speak over her. She's already experienced some emotional trauma, very different than her sister's and that come with very different messages that, if believed, will be very damaging to her heart and relationships.  

I'm so scared for my girls.  My heart does double-time when I think of them being unhappy because of these lies and false messages.  The "Mama Bear" in me is clawing from within, anxious to be released and fight for her cubs.  But I have to be patient and wise about how I let my "Mama Bear" help.  I can't just let her loose, but I can let her have a voice from time to time.  But will my sweet redheads know that "Mama Bear" and I fight for them because they are loved and have the potential to be so much more than I ever was or am? 

in-ˈte-grə-tē

in•teg•ri•ty
noun \in-ˈte-grə-tē\
: the quality of being honest and fair
: the state of being complete or whole
Full Definition of INTEGRITY
1:  firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values :  incorruptibility
2:  an unimpaired condition :  soundness
3:  the quality or state of being complete or undivided : completeness

I have some questions about integrity that have been occupying brain space for a few years now. I feel like we apply broad brushstrokes to integrity and use it toward large concepts but keep it out of the details of day to day life. This feeling, these questions, I have come after entering back into the workforce and observing people as employees.

For example (and to be sure there are others), I have watched, and heard, employees make plans to call in sick so they could do something else like go on a trip or have a day off.  They would go through these elaborate steps to make it seem as if they were getting sick so when they called in to their boss it seemed plausible.  This really began to bother me.  It speaks of several things I think but the one thing that kept coming back to me about it was the lack of integrity.

Now, I'm not throwing stones.  I am positive I have done some things that were empty of any integrity.  And because I can admit that about myself I have no judgment toward people I witness doing things that have no integrity attached to them.  I have no judgment but I do have questions for us to think through together.  

What is integrity? 
According to Webster's (definition above) integrity includes qualities of honesty and fairness.  It speaks of adhering to the rules even when we don't necessarily agree with them.  When we operate with integrity it appears that we aren't divided between the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other both whispering in our ears.  When we are divided we will inevitably choose the devil on our shoulder over the angel and as we are we know it's wrong but we can't help it.  We can't help it because we have allowed our flesh to speak louder than the Spirit.

How do we pursue it? 
Integrity is a moment by moment, day by day choice.  Throughout our days we will have many opportunities to chose between a right direction and a wrong direction. The direction we chose indicates if we are pursuing integrity in our lives or not.

What does it look like in day to day life?
Integrity has the features of trust built in to it.  Do we trust God enough that when we make the, and it is oftentimes the harder, right choice he will honor it?   Do we trust that the harder choice, which is most often the right one, will have God in the details and it will go well for us?
Integrity has the features of honesty built in to it.  When we make the choice to be honest with someone about something integrity prompts us to speak in a forthright way and with love.  Integrity doesn't hold back the truth because it cares more about the person in the big picture than it does about the small picture which is so limited.  We also practice honesty in our own life, not trying to skirt around truth or cover up anything that needs to be exposed in our own life.
Integrity has the features of authenticity built in to it.  A person pursuing integrity knows that what they do when nobody is watching is just as important, actually more so, as what they are doing when people can see them.  A person pursuing integrity is one who is consistent in their behaviors and attitudes in public or in private.    

How does it apply to all areas of life? 
There isn't an area of life where integrity isn't applicable.  How we interact in relationships - friendships, co-workers, significant others, parenting, anyone who falls into your sphere of influence throughout your days (teachers, cashiers, etc) - integrity applies.  How we perform our job - integrity applies.  How we handle our finances - integrity applies.  If people see us lacking integrity in one area of our life they will wonder if we act with integrity in any area.

And perhaps the most important question of all...
If and when I don't stand up for integrity what does that say about mine?
This is the question that stops me in my tracks.  When I fail to act with integrity by standing up for it then the message I send out is that I, also, don't think integrity is valuable.  I will act with integrity and stand up for integrity only when I know and recognize the value of it.  What kind of price am I putting on it?  Do I recognize how priceless integrity is?  Do I believe that making the right choice pays off in the end, maybe not in the short-term but in the long-term for sure?  Do I trust that God will honor my decision to behave with integrity even when it's really hard and may be inconvenient or uncomfortable?

I can't force anyone but myself to act with integrity.  I can stand up for it, I can encourage the people in my life to pursue it, I can make choices that show I am pursuing integrity but I can't force it on anyone else.

Integrity is not a general concept to be applied with broad brushstrokes but it is an intricate detail applied with intention and attention to the enhancements it brings to our characters. Let us not settle for anything less.

A Thief Named Comparison

That sneaky thief.

It crept up on me while I was looking the other way, mumbling under my breath with envy as I stared down the source of my green skin.  

It crept on me while I puffed up with pride, looking down my nose, and sneering with judgment at the source of my inflated ego.  

That sneaky thief. 

After it crept up on me and accomplished its work I felt something missing.  I checked my bag, not in there. I checked my pockets, empty.  I scratched my head, where could it be?  That sneaky thief stole it right out from under my green skin and my inflated ego. 

That sneaky thief stole my joy.  

That sneaky thief named Comparison has stolen my joy.

It was stolen from me when I looked at someone else and allowed the green monster of envy to emerge.  As I compared my job - my house - my parenting - my body - my children - my parents - my siblings - my friends - my material possessions - my spiritual journey - my marriage - my relationships - my academic prowess - my fashion sense - my decorating skills - my hospitality - my fill in the blank - my joy was stolen away from me, my gratitude for what my life consisted of was stolen away.  I was left empty, joyless.  All that I had was a grumbling heart and a green tint to my skin.  I was never satisfied and my smiles were strained and spoke of jealousy due to the thief named Comparison.  My eyes were blind to the good things in my life.

It was stolen from me when I looked at someone else and allowed my ego to inflate with pride.  As I compared my job - my house - my parenting - my body - my children - my parents - my siblings - my friends - my material possessions - my spiritual journey - my marriage - my relationships - my academic prowess - my fashion sense - my decorating skills - my hospitality - my fill in the blank - my joy was stolen away from me, my gratitude for what my life consisted of was stolen away.  As I secretly, or not so secretly, passed on judgment on someone else who I perceived as inferior to me the joy in my life drained out as if my lifeblood was being drained out.  My inflated ego and judgmental spirit compared my life to theirs and that thief somehow convinced me that I was superior and they inferior.  I was left empty, joyless.  I had no compassion nor kindness in me and my ego was inflated to the point of bursting.  I was arrogant and competitive, always seeking to make sure Comparison found me to be the "winner."

That sneaky thief Comparison has stolen my joy by convincing me that I am both not good enough and better than.  And now I am bereft without joy.

That sneaky thief named Comparison stole my joy but I'm going to steal it back, reclaim it as mine.

I'm going to reclaim it as I look at my job - my house - my parenting - my body - my children - my parents - my siblings - my friends - my material possessions - my spiritual journey - my marriage - my relationships - my academic prowess - my fashion sense - my decorating skills - my hospitality - my fill in the blank - and discover I am grateful for what I have and I have a choice to improve what I'm not happy about. I'm going to reclaim it as I look at others and instead of having envy toward them or thinking myself better than them I simply choose to acknowledge their journey looks different than mine.  I'm going to fill back up with joy as I choose gratitude over envy, as I choose humility over superiority.

I took back what was rightly mine from that sneaky thief.  Comparison is bondage and joy is freedom and I'm free once again.  

Make the Thought Count

It's not like it's a new thought or idea.  When Solomon states in Ecclesiastes that there is nothing new under the sun he spoke truth.  There are no new thoughts, ideas, etc but there are expansions on what is already present.  There are new twists to the present idea or thought. There are different or even new applications.

I have read Philippians 1:3 countless times.  And countless is an understatement.  It is one of the most overused verses in the Bible.  So the temptation is to skim right by it in search of deeper truths.  But, for whatever reason, this day I skidded to a halt on this verse.

I thank my God every time I remember you.  

How many people do you think about each day?  On average?  The people you live with, the people you work with, and then who else?  Maybe a handful more?  And for the most part probably a different handful every day.  I want to zero in on that handful.  Chances are good that your interactions with those you live with communicate that you are thinking about them.  And for your co-workers?  Well that's a hit and miss I suppose but since you interact with them 5 days a week chances are decent that your communications with them indicate you have thought about them in some way as well (whether or not you are thankful is another story).  But it's that handful.  When they happen to run across your mind do you let them know?

Every so often I drink Lady Gray Tea.  It's not my most favorite but every so often I get a craving for it. And when I do drink it I think of one person every time without fail.  She and I are no longer friends.  I suppose we are still acquaintances, but we don't have daily communication and haven't seen each other in about 4 years.  But this tea makes me think of her.  It so happened that the day after I had skidded to a halt on Philippians 1:3 I made myself some Lady Gray tea.  And since it was so fresh in my mind I decided to act on thinking about her.  So I emailed her.  It was super short.  I simply let her know I thought of her because of the tea I was having and I hoped she was well.  That's it. No big conversations, no initiation of relationship, nothing but just letting her know she was thought of.  It doesn't matter what she thought of my out-of-the-blue email, I just knew that somehow it made a difference for me. Maybe it did for her too.

Certain things - smells, sounds, music, foods - are triggers for me.  I'm guessing they are for you too.  And usually when a memory is triggered a person is part of that memory. Sometimes they are still in my life, other times not.  With some people and the memories attached to them I don't feel so thankful.  Sometimes I remember that I have also questioned God, not thanked him, for allowing that person to be part of my life at some point.  Depending on how long ago the person was in my life I might still be questioning God today. *grin* Just being honest.  But I do try to insert some thankfulness in there as well. I try to be objective and mature about the reasons why that person was in my life, their role in my own personal growth, and my role in the relationship I had with them.  I search for the reasons why I can be thankful to God for them. And frankly, a lot of those reasons usually center on how not to behave in relationships, in how not to be in relationship to God, in how not to treat others.  So I can be thankful for them, not for the positives but for the negatives because they served as a lesson for me in how not to be.  So see?  I can still be thankful to God for them when they cross my mind, which they do from time to time.

So all this has me thinking, what would change in our relationships if we did the following based on Philippians 1:3?
*Thanked God for the person who just ran across our mind (even if we don't personally like them!) and pray for them (people it counts with God if this all happens in a space of 30 seconds - you don't have to spend hours on this and when praying for someone you don't have to know what's going on with them - trust that God knows because he does).
*If possible, and appropriate, let them know you have thought about them.  (Send a text, send a Facebook Inbox, send an email, dial their phone number and call them, drop a note by their workplace, knock on their door and give them a hug, you can see there are many ways to let people know they are being thought of.)

What could change in that person's life because of that?
What could change in our lives because of practicing that kind of contact?
What might change in relationships because of that small intentional reach out?

If you are like me then you think about someone at least once a day accompanied by the thought, "Oh I should fill in the blank them (call, text, etc)" and then the day continues and you get caught up in its flow and the thought occurs to you again about midnight when you need to be sleeping.  And then you just never follow through. The thought was there but never acted on.  And if you are like me perhaps you have shrugged your shoulders and said, "Oh well it's the thought that counts."  Um.  Not in this case actually.  In this kind of situation the thought doesn't count because nobody but you knows you had the thought! So make the thought count, share it with the person you had it about.  Take 30 seconds and communicate with them.  Make the thought count.   

I'm not good at making the thought count. There's my confession.  I just spent the last few minutes telling *you* to do it when I myself kinda stink at it.  But I promise I'm not being hypocritical, you want to know why?  Because I'm not saying I am great at this and because I use posts like these to be a reminder to me of how I want to live my life. So really this whole post is for me and if *you* get something out of it then great! Also, sometimes I stink at this because of the season of life I am in.  Sometimes my seasons wear me out and I'm just trying to get through the days.  And sometimes my seasons are dark and when they are one of the first things to taper off in my life is my communication with others. These aren't excuses, just realities. And you have your realities as well. But even in the midst of our realities let's try to reach out in small but potentially meaningful ways.

Let's make the thought count.  

Diversity. Our Common Ground.

I've been thinking about diversity lately. In fact, I looked it up to make sure that I was thinking about it in its true definition and not how our culture has attempted to define it.* For the record, I was thinking of it in its original intent.  *grin*

A few months ago I was standing at the back of a packed auditorium at a concert.  I was watching the performer when my eyes began to sweep the room and catch the people attending instead.  It was a Christian artist and the song happened to be one that prompted a worship atmosphere so some hands were raised and some were not, some people were singing along and others weren't.  I'm guessing there were people there who are pre-tribulation and others that are post-tribulation and still others who are mid-tribulation.  There were probably people there who take communion every week and some who only take it once a month. I am positive there were people there who love John MacArthur and others who love Joel Osteen. And I know for a fact there were people there who read the King James Version of the Bible and believed anyone who didn't may be in danger of the fires of hell.  While other people in the room, say like myself, like to look at a portion of scripture in 4 different versions of the Bible. There were people in the room who speak in tongues and others who don't.  I guess you could say it was a diverse group of people.

Recently, at my home church, we were looking at a chapter in 2 Kings. The person leading the chapter discussion had shared her thoughts on the chapter and what kind of things stood out to her. My notes and observations of the same chapter yielded completely different thoughts!  And I smiled because that's diversity.  Just like the concert I attended where diversity was so well represented in the room so it made an appearance again in a smaller setting.

Diversity is a reality of life.  We cannot escape it.  If we were not a diverse people we would be like a clone cult. And those never work out very well. (Remember Jim Jones and the Kool-Aid?  David Koresh and Waco?)  Diversity is something that people scream for from the tops of their soapboxes but in their personal lives they sneer at. We don't want diversity, we want conformity.  Once we step down from our soapboxes for diversity we change our stance.  Somehow we think diversity in universal ways is attainable without accepting diversity in personal ways.  We disparage people for their different beliefs about politics, religion, parenting, education, or whatever else would fall into that category.  We vilify people for holding a different opinion than our own.  Here's a profound truth: until you embrace diversity in your personal life you will be a weak and ineffective voice for it in the world.

Here's another profound truth about diversity, brought to you compliments of life experience, mine namely: In all the areas where we do not entertain diversity in our personal lives we will be challenged on.  In all the areas where we stubbornly cling to hateful, inconsistent, and hypocritical beliefs born of legalism we will be challenged on. Don't believe me?  Look at Jesus. He consistently challenged the Pharisees on their false, hypocritical, inconsistent, and at times hateful, beliefs and traditions. And they responded as so many still do today.  They disparaged him, they vilified him, and then they tried to kill him.  We may not go so far as to physically harm someone who doesn't agree with us but we do kill them with our words.  We use our words as a weapon to cut down anyone who dares to show a different side than the one we have.

What if you are wrong about that belief you cling to?  I know.  I know you think it's not possible that you could be wrong, misinformed, mistaken, or deceived but what if you are?  The answer lies in diversity. We must invite it into our lives, through people, to help us stay grounded and filtered.  We must allow diversity, through people, to challenge us.  Even if we end up not agreeing with them we need the reminder to stay open to other trains of thought, methods, beliefs, etc.  Here's a great definition I came across from the University of Oregon: The concept of diversity encompasses acceptance and respect. It means understanding that each individual is unique, and recognizing our individual differences.  These can be along the dimensions of race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, age, physical abilities, religious beliefs, political beliefs, or other ideologies.  It is the exploration of these differences in a safe, positive, and nurturing environment. It is about understanding each other and moving beyond simple tolerance to embracing and celebrating the rich dimensions of diversity contained within each individual.

What's an appropriate way to respond to diversity in our personal lives?  Well, I can tell you what isn't appropriate!  It is not appropriate to use coarse and vulgar language to prove your point.  It is not appropriate to attack someones character for having a differing opinion.  It is unacceptable to cut off relationship* with someone just because they think black tea is best and you think green tea is the only tea to drink.  (Do you see how I kept that example light and out of controversial territory? *wink*)  What is appropriate is keeping an open mind and heart, allowing the other person to share their view with you, embracing the challenge a different train of thought brings, giving yourself permission to be wrong or to change your mind, allowing for the possibility that both perspectives are true and there may be more than one way to do something.

Diversity allows for opposing or opposite views to co-exist.  We don't have to have "everything" in common but diversity is the one thing we do, or should, have in common and we should celebrate it every day.*

*For culture's attempts at defining diversity click here and scroll down to read the variety of definitions. 
*Sometimes we have to cut off relationship with someone for a variety of reasons but that's not what this blog is about. That's a whole other can of worms to open! 

*That's a loose quote from an unknown source. 

Before writing this post I wrote one on Tolerance.  Click here to read those thoughts!

You call that tolerant? Huh.

Have you ever noticed that people who claim to be tolerant are usually one of the most intolerant people? You haven't? Well stick with me and I'll show you what I mean.
First let's have a quick vocabulary lesson.  Here's what tolerant means. And here's what intolerant means.
Okay now that we are all on the same page, let's continue.

Here's a real life story about pride in being tolerant being a mask for intolerance.  Recently* someone I know personally bragged about their tolerance for other religious beliefs and cultures.  They cited examples of going to dinner parties where all different religions mixed and it was wonderful and this person felt so good about themselves for being so tolerant.  The same "tolerant" (remember what it means) person refused to attend a family member's baptism and threw an adult style temper tantrum over it. They refused to exit the car in the church parking lot and then, when finally coerced into coming into the church, they pulled out a fictional novel and pointedly read it the entire service.  Yep, that person is so tolerant.

And they aren't the only prideful "tolerant" person I've run into throughout the years that are actually one of the most intolerant people I know.  To accuse me of being intolerant is, well, comical.  But I get accused of that a lot.  In fact, I get accused of it by the "tolerant" people - you know the ones who say they are tolerant but refuse to participate in certain events, discussions, etc because a *gasp* Christian might be there.  Yet I show up to their discussions, events, etc.  So who is the tolerant one and who is the one that displays intolerance?  The "tolerant" ones that won't read research that the opposing view offers but me, the "intolerant" one, that wants to know both sides.  The "tolerant" ones that purposefully post vulgar language, derisive cartoons, and needling articles on their social media sites or me, the "intolerant" one, that respects their choice and doesn't say things to purposely offend or start debate that can't be productive.  The "tolerant" ones that assign a generality to all Christians because of one person (think Pat Robertson, ugh) or me, the "intolerant" one, who knows one person's stupidity doesn't represent all who have similar beliefs.

A friend recently had this as her Facebook status, "I have no tolerance for intolerance.  There.  I said it."  I thought to myself, "YES!  Exactly!"  She succinctly put into words what this particular article is about.  The only thing I knowingly have intolerance for is intolerance.  I try to be objective and open minded about everything else.  This doesn't mean I agree with everything else but it means I don't treat people with differing beliefs, opinions, etc as idiots for not seeing things my way.

Being tolerant means having respect for people having their own opinions, whether you agree with them or not.  Being tolerant means allowing yourself to be surprised by a perspective change on a topic you have stood firm on in the past.  Being tolerant means admiring the intelligence that resides in others besides yourself. (I have also found that a good majority of intolerant people consider themselves to be genius as well.  And no that is not an intolerant statement about intolerant people, that's a observation born from life experience with several so-called tolerant people.)  It is not tolerance when you respect all beliefs but one.  It is not tolerance when you can't be open to someone sharing facts with you about something you don't agree with.  It is not tolerance when you purposely needle people who have opposing opinions by use of vulgar language, snide comments about them as a person, a refusal to concede to a well said fact.

I posted an article from Donald Miller the other day on my Facebook.  In my perspective it was a mild article, wasn't going to ruffle a lot of feathers or cause any sort of conversation.  I was surprised, then, when the comments started up.  And I was surprised by some of the comments!  One friend commented and when I mentioned that we would have to agree to disagree she removed her comment.  Huh.  I have no problem agreeing to disagree, I consider it to be a quality of tolerance for other opinions.  By removing her comment I felt she harbors intolerance for people who take a different position than she does and that makes me sad...and a little frustrated truthfully.  Another friend commented and it blew me away.  She said, "Beth, I look forward to your posts. You turn my preconceived notions on their head - and that's a very, very good thing."  This is my friend practicing tolerance.  She and I differ on basically every view point out there and yet here she is, willing to be open minded about seeing me and the topics we differ on in a different light. And I hope the same can be said about me.

It might be time for *us* to rethink our actual tolerance for people and things because if *you* call that (behavior or statement)  tolerant then my only response can be "huh."

*I said recently, without a timeline, in order to protect the guilty.  It could have been 5 years ago or it could have been yesterday.  

As a follow up to this post I also wrote one on Diversity.  Click here to read those thoughts!

The Vulnerability of Feet

Recently our home church decided to invade comfort levels and wash each other's feet.  It ended up families washed each other's feet while the other families observed.  We need to take baby steps (pun intended) with this whole command.  Yep, it's a command given to us by Christ.

Frankly, it is a little unnerving to consider.  And what's weird about that is that I am all about getting a pedicure, I have no qualms about a perfect stranger touching my feet.  I don't mind my husband rubbing my feet either.  But washing them?  I start to pull back a little.  There is something oddly intimate about someone else washing my feet.  It places me in a position of vulnerability and that is very unnerving.  And as I watched other people getting their feet watched I felt vulnerable on their behalf.

What is it about feet that exposes us to others, to even ourselves?  Perhaps it is that feet are so unique, filled with personality and character.  They can be, and are, beautiful - ugly - bony - chubby - cracked - smooth - calloused - tough - sensitive - small - large - smelly.  And to expose them to someone else feels like we are exposing them to all of those things that are true of us as well.  We can be, and are, beautiful - ugly - edgy - curvy - cracked - smooth - calloused - tough - sensitive - smelly.  And we pull back when we don't want others to see and know that about us, even our spouses.

When I held my foot out to my husband I instinctively curled my toes inward as if drawing back.  It's possible I even drew my foot back a bit but he had a grasp on it by that point so he kept it over the bowl. He poured the water over it and then took the towel to dry it off.  Such intimacy.  And with others watching it made it just a tad more unnerving.  There was nervous twittering the entire time from all of us there. It's uncomfortable to take part in and observe such an intimate act.

I imagine the disciples felt similar when Jesus stripped off his outer garments, tied a towel around his waist, and knelt down on the ground at the dusty and smelly feet of the men who had followed him for the last three years.  I imagine there was nervous twittering and an insecurity at Jesus touching the rough and calloused feet.  But Peter, as usual, was the only one bold enough to speak out loud what I think all of them were thinking, "Lord, you are going to wash my feet?" Jesus answered in the affirmative and Peter, as usual, came back with, "No!  You should never wash my feet!"  Imagine telling Jesus no.  Oh wait.  We do, everyday. We tell him no everyday.  We, like Peter, lose sight of who is knelt down at our feet.  We forget the past years of learning at his feet.  We curl our figurative toes inward to draw away from the one who wants to wash us clean.  We protest with voices that tremble with insecurity and fear at being found in such a vulnerable position.  And Jesus, with grace in his voice and love in his eyes, says to Peter, and to us, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me."  Now I confess I am not near as bold as Peter who then, as usual, took it all the way, "Well then Lord don't stop at my feet!  Wash all of me!"  Poor Peter.  He gets a lot of flack from the pulpit for his bold statements and actions.  But I see and hear zeal in Peter. He is zealous for the Lord.  He loves Jesus more than he may even realize.  He believes even if he isn't quite sure what that belief means or will cost him.  I like Peter, I relate to him.  I, too, feel zeal for my Lord.  But I'm not bold like Peter.  I draw back and take a slower approach.  Jesus corrects Peter, and perhaps us, "No Peter.  You don't need a full body wash, you are clean except for your feet.  Washing your feet fulfills the need." Peter quiets down and we can assume he then placed his feet in the hands of Jesus.

I understand the vacillating.  I pull back from Jesus, unwilling to let him see and touch my insecurities and flaws.  He tells me that if I don't allow him in those places then I will have no part with him so I throw everything I have at him in desperation to be part of him.  He has to pull me back to a balance and reminds me that he only asked for specific insecurities and flaws, not all of it. He knows what I don't.  Eventually we'll get to the place where he has touched every insecurity and flaw but we'll take baby steps to get there (pun intended).

If I can't get vulnerable with the One who created me then I'm really going to have a tough time getting vulnerable with people. And I see the struggle in me.  I vacillate with people - my husband, my besties, my community.  I want vulnerability and sometimes I'm able to get there but a lot of times I curl my heart inward and start to pull back.  It is a lot of steps forward and backward but Philippians 1:6 says I have as much time as God determines I need to be called "complete" and since I see being complete includes allowing all of me to have been exposed and cleansed by Christ I guess I'm going to have to be patient in the process, and allow grace to wash over me...and my feet.

Yeast Revisited.

I looked down in my toaster and saw remnants of toast and bagels.  I emptied the handy tray that is designed to catch them and looked again.  The toaster was still littered with crumbs caught up in the coils and the edges of the toaster.  I shook it upside down, to the side, right side up, and I banged on the sides of the toaster but only a few more crumbs came tumbling out.  Short of immersing the toaster in warm water and letting it soak those crumbs are hanging on.  How appropriate, I thought, considering the reason why I was even spending time and energy on removing the crumbs.

Lanny just bought these new little LED flashlights so I used one to help me search out any food items in the dark recesses of my pantry that might contain a leavening agent.  I found a couple of items and pulled them out and placed them on the counter.  Fortunately the pile of leavening agents or items containing leaven was small.  It helps that for the past week or so I have been using or consuming things we have in our home that contain yeast or the like.  But I've consumed so much that I'm beginning to feel puffed up myself!  The break from leavened things comes at a good time.  Ha.

What in the world am I doing?  What's with this focus on leavening and removing it?  Last year I wrote about yeast.  And this year I'm back with some additional thoughts about it.  Today is the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread.  In Leviticus 23 God tells his people to abstain from things with leavening for 7 days and to remove it completely from their surroundings for those 7 days as well.  The observance begins with Passover, which is also commanded by the Lord to observe every year.  In the New Testament Paul addresses the observance of the Feast of Unleavened Bread by saying, "Get rid of the old yeast, so that you may be a new unleavened batch—as you really are. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. Therefore let us keep the Festival, not with the old bread leavened with malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth." And while what Paul says sounds like a metaphorical observance I am inclined to believe he was actually speaking literally.  Why?  One reason is that Paul was an observant Jewish man who happened to believe that Jesus was the Savior.  He also happened to believe that Jesus meant what he said when he declared that he had come not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it. Paul followed God's commands to keep the biblical festivals and knew that observing the Feast of Unleavened Bread literally led to the metaphorical observance as well.  And it does.  God knows that we need something with substance to use for our metaphors and searching out and ridding our surroundings of leavening agents does the trick.  God uses yeast and its function as a word picture for sin in our lives.  And God desires to see us go after sin and remove it.  He wants us to be diligent about it all the time but for 7 days we are to be hyper-diligent as a way to keep us humble before him.  And it works.

If you read my post last year about yeast you'll remember that I was doing great at not partaking of any until a little slip-up which was a complete accident.  Last year I participated in the Feast by not consuming any leavened food for the 7 days. This year I decided to observe it fully by also getting rid of any food items in our home that contained leavening.  That's why I was looking in the toaster and using a flashlight to search the pantry.  And the searching accomplished exactly what the Lord, I believe, intended for it to do. It revealed that just like leaven hides in places and things I wouldn't think it needed to be, so sin does the same thing in my life.  It infiltrates my heart and hides in the places of my life where it needn't be.  And in order to find it I need to intentionally search for it, just like with the leaven in my home.  Not only was leaven hanging out in our kitchen but a look under our couch cushions revealed crumbs had made their way there and were hiding out. So I didn't have to just search the most obvious places for the hiding places, I had to search the whole house.  The same is true of sin in my life.  I shouldn't be searching for just the most obvious places within my life and heart for sin, I need to search all the nooks and crannies.  And when sin is found take the necessary steps to remove it.

A week or so ago I was studying Leviticus 5 and the chapter deals with the unintentional sins we commit and the way to handle those.  I know that in the coming week of observance I am sure to discover something that has leaven in it that I missed in my search or, just like last year, unthinkingly consume something that has yeast in it.  Those are the unintentional sins Leviticus 5 refers to.  Things I do or say that I'm not aware, at the time, offend our Holy God but once I am aware I am required to make right.  God makes provision even for the unintentional.  His grace is deep and wide.

Black Hole Living

Sometimes it seems miles away from me and other times I am teetering on the edge peering down into the darkness.  And then there are the times it swallows me up, almost without my noticing until I am in a free fall like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland.  Except I don't land in Wonderland, I land at the bottom of a black hole.
I lay there, looking up and searching for the pinpoint of light that I need to claw my way up to.  My black hole changes depths, sometimes it is deep and others times it is relatively shallow. Laying at the bottom I feel defeated, depleted, despairing. Wrapping energy around these emotions takes work and until I do I won't be able to claw out of this hole.  So I lay there and I work to get enough energy to begin the upward journey. Eventually I begin to claw my way up.  It feels like one step forward and two steps backward at times. Sometimes I reach the top only to slip back down again.  And then there are the times that I reach the top and I grip the edge with my fingertips and I begin the painstaking process of pulling myself up and out of that hole once again. Should I succeed, or rather when I succeed, it takes some recovery time before I can safely move away from the edge of the hole.
I lay there, so aware of how one little shift would send me tumbling down the hole again, panting and trying to catch my breath.  I inch away from the edge, my energy depleted by the claw-climb out of the hole.  The further I inch away the stronger I become.  Eventually I can get to my hands and knees and move a little faster, always seeking to put distance between myself and the black hole. At some point I know I will be able to get to my feet and walk and then even perhaps run to lengthen the distance.  The further I can get away from it the longer it will take for another encounter.  Because the reality is I am going to have another encounter.  The black hole didn't even exist until a few years ago but now it is here to stay, making its presence known.  Now it is a reality in my life, it is a struggle I encounter, it is a tool of humility.
It isolates me even as truth within me whispers its warnings against isolation.  It numbs me to relationships.  It sucks all physical and emotional energy out of me.  But it no longer perplexes me.  It no longer deceives me into masking what it really is.  I know what it will take to claw-climb out of it.  In some ways I can even determine its depth.  And some days, while in the claw-climb of the black hole, I am even able to laugh and smile and people think I am enjoying life.  I'm good in public, I can almost make the black hole disappear. But see me alone and then you see what kind of life I'm living in the black hole.  Try to interact with me in person or virtually and you will get delayed responses, if you get them at all.  Try to catch my eye and hold eye contact, I'll look away after about 1 second but not before you catch the weariness.  Listen to what I say and you'll hear about my low-energy levels.  Observe me from a distance and you'll see me deeply sigh, blink, and try to motivate myself to do something productive.  Yes, once you know what to look for you will know if I've been sucked in to another black hole or if I am trying to claw-climb my way out of one.
But life in the black hole has had one surprising gift.  It has been, and continues to be, one of perspective.  I have an expanded perspective on God's grace, God's people, and God's love.  So for all the weight that black hole living brings to me, both figuratively and literally, there's a bright pinpoint of light always guiding me.

Glue

When I was a kid I made projects at school with good ole Elmer's Glue.  It was thick and white and I, along with practically every other kid in the class, would overestimate how much I needed and squirt on way too much. It would squish out from the edges of my project and I would attempt to wipe the edges.  It would take hours to dry and sometimes I would have transport it home still damp with my abundant use of glue.  I would think to myself, "That's going to last forever!"  My Mom kept very few of those projects from my childhood but the ones she kept are falling apart.  The construction paper is faded and the glue has dried out so much that it no longer is doing its job of keeping things together and instead is peeling off the paper in large, thin sheets of dried up glue.  It's usefulness has passed, it no longer can hold together the project I thought would last forever.

Sometimes I feel like that glue. 

A few years ago a friend told me that I was like the glue that held our little community together.  She sincerely meant it as a compliment and at first I took it as such. But then I started to realize that it meant that unless I was the one initiating group get-together's, planning the food for them, planning the parties, making the phone calls, sending the texts, composing the emails, making sure that people stayed in the know about important life stuff with each other, and basically being a Mother Hen then our little community was going to fall apart like the years old project that the glue can't hold together anymore.

Then the glue dried up.

I entered into a season of depression. My inner glue dried up and there was nothing left to squeeze out of me.  I literally couldn't be the one to initiate and hold it all together.  And the little community didn't hold together.  The vibrant colors of our little family faded and the glue I had applied to keep us together peeled off in large sheets as we went our separate ways.  It didn't mean we didn't, or don't, love each other but what it meant was if I wasn't applying the glue then it wasn't holding together. I think this would have happened eventually even if I had more to give, but the process was sped up by the depression that took over me.

I'm not really glue even though I sometimes feel like it. 

I have a proven track record of not being able to hold things together "forever."  In fact, I can't think of one person who holds that distinction.  Oh wait, there is one. But just one. God holds it all together like super glue.  And super glue never dries out and becomes useless. Never.  The glue I produce and manufacture will always dry up and dry out, it won't hold something together "forever."  And if something, like my little community, doesn't hold together then that ultimately isn't on me, that is up to God. The timing of our season together was for him to decide and hold together, not me.  It felt like me and it may have even looked like it was me but it wasn't. He formed us and it was for purposes and reasons largely unknown to us but known to him.  Did we, as a little community, serve our purpose? I believe yes we did.  I believe we held together for as long as God needed us too in order to accomplish something only I believe he knows about.

Did you ever used to take glue and spread it in a thin layer over your hand, let it dry and then slowly peel it off?  You can see every line in your hand, fingerprints are captured, it is oddly fascinating. In order to see all the lines and capture the fingerprints it has to be spread thin. Spread so thin the glue becomes almost transparent but more opaque. I can make out the lines and the fingerprints but their clarity is blurred by the consistency of the glue.

I'm spread thin, almost translucent but more opaque. 

If I look closely I can see the lines of my life and of my heart through the glue I've spread over myself to try and hold it together.  But the lines are blurred and undefined, they run together and I wonder if my life line has been cut short. That doesn't mean what it may sound like, I'm not planning on cutting my life line short but some days the line feels shortened by life itself.  I spread the glue on to try and keep things together but when you spread it too thin it no longer has adhesive properties. I don't hold things together very well anymore.

The glue I have spread on is dry, now what? 

It may feel like life is cutting my line short but there is only one who knows the actual number of my days. And no matter how spread thin I feel he still sticks with me.  He cuts through the opaque of my heart and sees all the lines of my life and heart with startlingly clarity.  And then in his grace he shows me what he sees. Usually I don't see it until he peels the glue off that I have spread on me in the attempt to hold things together. And then what he sees I too am able to see.  But I can't see it all at once or I may implode. So he peels off the glue I have spread on little by little, in manageable pieces.  And what he shows me is freeing.

I'm not glue.  I don't have to feel responsible to hold it *all* together.
Thank goodness. 

Curves and Edges

Have you heard the song by John Legend called "All of me"? There is one line that makes me really pause and consider it's deeper meaning:

'Cause all of me

Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you

That line in the midst of the lines that surround it has me really thoughtful about relationships, specifically the marriage relationship.  I've got curves and edges and I'm not talking about my physical body. My moods have curves and edges, my behaviors have curves and edges, my feelings have curves and edges and my marriage is the one relationship where those curves and edges are probably the most seen and felt.  If my hub were honest (and he oftentimes is not when it comes to me which means I have to be more honest about myself than I prefer) he would say that in the past couple of years I've had more edges than curves.  I could give you a list of reasons and excuses and about 99% of them would be valid and make sense.  But that doesn't give me an excuse to live with my husband in edges and not curves. Some of the edges are my own fault, I need to own what I have contributed to.  And with the edges created by circumstances, conflicts, and misunderstandings I still don't have an excuse to be edgy with this man that I entered into covenant with so many years ago.

The amazing thing about my edges is that my hub chooses to love me in spite of them.  He treats edgy Beth the same way he treats curvy Beth.  Yet I remain edgy with him. I haven't allowed his curves to soften my edges.  Somehow in spite of my numerous edges and lack of curves, specifically with my hub, he is able to say that he loves my curves and all my edges. Clearly I have a lot more work to do in the true love department than he does.  

I've been pondering how to soften my edges and turn them into curves. I have a lot of work to do I think. Let me be a little more honest. I know, not think, I have a lot of work to do.  My Type A nature tends to despair when faced with work to do and I can't figure out how to get it done.  But in my 30's my Type A nature has been reined in during those moments by the truth of Philippians 1:6. I am a work in progress.  My hub married a work in progress and I married a work in progress when I said "I do" to him.  Then we had two redheads who are works in progress and none of us are complete yet.  The beautiful truth is that we are promised to not be left incomplete, the truth is that we will be finished according to the design of our Creator. Thank goodness! It's true that I can stall the work in progress when I won't allow my edges to be sanded down into curves.  But I've grown up enough to want the sanding to proceed.  I don't want to be edgy with my hub, I want to be curvy with him.  Grace is showing me the ways in which I need sanding, hope is showing me I can have more curves than edges, love is showing me that my hub's curves can soften my edges - if only I will allow it.

I don't know what John Legend's intended meaning for that line was but each time I hear it I am struck with the picture of my hub having to live with edgy Beth and not curvy Beth.  And while he loves me as is I am challenged to do the hard work of sanding so that my edges transform into curves and our marriage reflects the softer lines of covenant relationship. 

Sitting Shiva

In the past few months I've had two of my besties approach me and ask about how they can comfort someone who is grieving, what can they say, and what should they say.  It's a good question and one that deserves a thoughtful response.

Other people's grief makes us uncomfortable.  And in that insecurity we utter platitudes, quote phrases that mean nothing, we behave in ways that don't comfort the other person but instead place them in the position of having to ease us. Other people's grief certainly doesn't bring out the best in us...until we have experienced a deep enough grief ourselves. From that moment on we respond to other's grief differently.

My answer to my friends and to anyone who asks me (and people do from time to time), is simply this: Sit Shiva.  This usually brings a confused tone to the person's voice or a scratch on the head. Whatever does THAT mean? So before I talk about sitting Shiva let me give the briefest introduction to it. Shiva is a common practice among the Jewish people when someone has passed on.  It is the seven days following the person's death, including the day of the funeral. When someone sits Shiva with the person who is experiencing grief the role is simply this, sit with them in their grief and allow them to feel it and work through it. That's it.  It isn't sitting there saying things like, "Well heaven just gained another angel," or "It was his time to go," etc.  It isn't sitting there "one-upping" their grief with stories of your own. It isn't chattering non-stop about nonsense to distract them or yourself from the uncomfortable emotions of loss. It is letting them lead when they want to speak, eat, stand, sit, and sleep.  It is letting them lead when they feel the need to cry, yell, laugh and question.

And perhaps we need to also briefly define grief.  Grief is the emotion that expresses loss. Not only loss of life but loss on all levels of life.  Loss of physical life, loss of a relationship (marriage, friendship, child), loss of a dream, you get the idea. So while the Jewish people sit Shiva for loss of physical life what I am talking about is sitting Shiva for all kinds of loss that prompts grief in us. I am broadening the practice to include the varied griefs we are sure to encounter in life.

We are given an excellent example of how not to sit Shiva in the book of Job found in the Bible.  Job had lost everything but his wife and she was off in her own corner cursing God. So Job found himself sitting on top of dirt, tearing his clothes, and scraping his skin with broken pieces of pottery. People, this is grief and it isn't pretty.  I can't think of a time when grief is pretty. Job has three friends show up to sit Shiva with him. But once Shiva is officially done things go bad. Job speaks.  He didn't utter a word for seven days but then he speaks.  And once he's done his friends undo the Shiva they just sat with him.  The lesson here is to maintain the Shiva you sat and not undo it with your mouth or actions once the initial period of grief has eased.  To sit Shiva also means we continue to allow space and grace for the process of grief.  We don't take the other person's choice to open up as permission to unleash any doubts, anger, etc we might be feeling as well, especially when those things would be painful and condemning to the person grieving.  

When we experience loss we are open to shame, fear, insecurity, and doubt depending on the kind of loss we are walking through. To sit Shiva with someone means that we take up the battle against those things on behalf of the grieving person.  We pray against those things taking root, we pray for an empowering for that person to battle any of those.  We do this battle on their behalf silently, unless or until an occasion arises in which it becomes appropriate to include them. 

The very best comfort we can give is to sit Shiva completely available.  When we are concerned with saying something specific, questioning circumstances, talking to distract from the discomfort of grief, or any number of other ridiculous things we resort to when grief is evident then we are not available.  We might be physically present but we are emotionally absent.  To be a true comfort is to be totally available, totally set aside for the sake of the person in grief. Be available to listen and to listen without trying to "fix" the grief spiritually.  Do not try to remind them of God, plenty of other people will, with good but misguided intentions, be doing that. Be the person in their life who gives permission to feel angry, sad, doubtful of God, fearful and whatever else may rise to the surface during the grief process.  Be the person that gives them space and time to process it all.  Don't be the person who throws in the Christianese, the "textbook" scriptures (i.e. God has a plan for your life, Jeremiah 29:11).  Those things only serve to drive the pain deeper in the end. I have discovered that we often employ the Christianese and the "textbook" scriptures when the person's pain and grief makes us uncomfortable about faith and the true heart of God. But when we resort to those things for those reasons it ends up doing more damage than good.  In our culture we are trained to speak, to try and use words that heal and provide answers to any question, but in reality the greatest comfort can come, and does come, from silence and companionship and words being used thoughtfully and in the right time with the right motive. Let us not utter words that are birthed out of a discomfort toward God but out of sincerity.  This goes against what we've been taught all our lives but it is better for the grief-filled person and for the one who sits alongside of them. Yes, it is more uncomfortable because we may have our own doubts about God and what has happened and the why's but God is in the midst of all of that - he is there and you will know it as you don't try and push grief away but you embrace it and let it work its way through.  

It is a profound thing to sit Shiva with a hurting person.  A hurt person needs to be known and sitting Shiva is one of the best ways I have experienced to let someone know they are not alone and they are seen. In my own life I am trying to remember the practice of sitting Shiva with hurt people and how, when the time comes and I am hurting, I want others to respond to my pain. 

For more information on the Judaism practice of sitting Shiva click here and here.  

Monday's Child

Poor Mondays.  They get such a bad rap.  When did that start?  When did *we*decide Mondays were to blame for our reluctance to go to work, or to blame for lack of sleep which leads us to bad moods, or for a hectic workday due to our slacking off on Friday?  You get the idea.  And on top of that poor Monday gets the blame other days of the week as well! How many of us have had a hectic, unsettling, bad any-other-day-of-the-week-but-Monday and sighed, "Today is such a 'monday'!"  Poor Mondays.

I've talked a little about Mondays before, on my other blog and on Facebook. A couple of years ago I was challenged in my view on Mondays after being reminded of this, "This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it."  Another version, The Amplified Bible, says this is the day the Lord has brought about.  I read that for the zillionth time on that day a couple of years ago and my first thought was, "Even Mondays!"  Yes God brought about, created, established Mondays along with every other day of the week. So even when a day feels authored by the enemy rest assured it is not, it is authored and covered by the Creator.  

This realization radically changed my approach to Mondays, and any other day that felt hard.  When I have the perspective that my day, Monday or otherwise, was authored and set apart by God for purposes either known or unknown to me I undergo an attitude adjustment.  I can see reasons to celebrate the day, to be grateful for the challenges, to understand that some days are harder than others but God's promises for each day hold true. When the day is harder than expected, or I would have liked, I remind myself that God authored the day and then I remind myself, "It is because of the Lord’s mercy and loving-kindness that we are not consumed, because His [tender] compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great and abundant is Your stability and faithfulness. The Lord is my portion or share, says my living being (my inner self); therefore will I hope in Him and wait expectantly for Him." Each day I get a fresh helping of God's mercies and compassions.  Clean slate every day! That's enough right there to make me grateful for a Monday, or any other day. When I can't get my mind, and heart, to come around to that perspective then my day, Monday or otherwise pretty much blows.

I no longer distinguish Mondays between every other day of the week. It's just another day of the week and frankly my weekend could stink and my Monday be fantastic! It's all a matter of perspective, as a lot of things in life are.

I find that almost every Monday I remind myself of Psalm 118:24 so that when I run into people and they bemoan Monday I can remind them as well what this day is. It is the Lord's so let us rejoice and be glad in it! 

Celebrating the mite

I've been thinking a lot lately about the widow's mite.*  It's always bothered me that organizations hold large and lavish dinners and "thank you's" for their big money donors.  It bugs me because of the widow's mite. What if we threw a large and lavish dinner for the donors that are giving $10 (as an example) of their money every month faithfully for years on end?  What if we celebrated the mite donations rather than the large ones that always gain the most attention?  What kind of message would that send?
I've listened to a fair number of fundraiser dinners and pledge drives in my lifetime and I'm always unsettled by the meager "thank you" faithful donors get when their dollar amount doesn't reach the organization's ideal for a celebratory thank you.*  I think we have it backwards.  I think we should start inviting all to the dinner, regardless of their dollar amount donation.  And don't set up the seating according to dollar amounts either, mix them up.  I'm addressing the Church here (and non-profit para-church organizations) because, as far as I can see, God has addressed this with us already.  And I think we've forgotten or we've chosen to interpret it differently.  In James 2 favoritism is discussed.  Oh I can hear the protesting as I say that.  But in that silent moment when you have to be honest with yourself think about it.  Those large, lavish dinners for top dollar donors that aren't open to the $10 a month donors, what would you call that?  Preferential treatment. Placating.  People, it's favoritism at its roots.  It is.  I know, *you* wish it weren't so but wishing doesn't change what is fact.
The message it sends to those $10 a month donors is that while their donation is appreciated it just isn't quite enough.  There are a *million* donor departments and consulting firms that would disagree with me.  That's okay, I know what I know.  I know what people share with me.  I know what I observe.  And most importantly I know what God says about it.  God calls us to live backwards from how the world lives.  I'm so crazy I think it would be awesome to take it one step further and invite the big money donors to fund a large and lavish dinner for the lower dollar donors!*  GASP.  It's such a bold and out of the box idea. *grin*
How have we gotten to the place in the Church where people who throw a lot of money in the offering get coddled and expect to be treated with preference?  Oh those people wouldn't say they expect that and organizations/churches wouldn't say they coddle - in fact with that one question I have managed to offend pretty much every single organization and church in America - but they do.  Again, this calls for an honest moment.
What kind of message would top donors send to the various organizations that they support if they were put off because they didn't get a thank you gift or dinner or something?  Well it would reveal motive for the financial gift for sure.  I've run into a few of these donors in my years touring Christian organizations/churches through jobs.  They aren't pleasant people the minute they aren't thanked as they think they should be or their "suggestions" for the organization/church aren't implemented.  And the moment that happens their financial gifts develop a stench.  But those $10 a month donors?  They are always genuinely surprised and grateful for any show of appreciation for their gift.  Listen, those $10 a month people know their gift isn't much.  They might even feel bad they can't give more.  But those gifts, they count.  They matter.  In the end they add up to more than the gift of one top dollar donor.  Their sacrifice, while they don't expect it to be recognized and appreciated, should be.  More so than the top dollar donors.  Go back to James 2, it's right there.
Now I'm not saying we shouldn't thank top dollar donors.  I'm just saying that regardless of the dollar amount of a donation the "thank you" should be the same.  $10 to one person is as much as $1000 to another.  It's the same in their worlds.  So in the world where thank you's are issued for financial gifts the thank you should be the same as well.
Celebrate the mite and you'll be living backwards.


*If you aren't familiar with the story click here. If you aren't familiar with what mite means click here and scroll down to "2 mite noun".  You are welcome.  :)
  
*And no, this is not because I didn't get invited to something and need to passive-aggressively point it out.  In all honesty when I get invited to things that I know are costing money in order for the organization to keep my money I prefer to not go and just send in a donation.  I don't see how it makes sense to spend money to get money.  Again, a *million* donor departments and consulting firms would disagree with me and that's okay. Perhaps I'm just too simple minded for them.  But I think that phrase "less is more" applies here as well.  :) 

*Take it one step further and use the money you would pay for a large and lavish dinner and put it instead toward the organization/church you support and just send a nice "thank you" email (why spend money on printing, paper, and postage?).  I know, now I'm really talking crazy here. *wink*