Brothers and Sisters

I recently went home to visit my blood relatives... although the circumstances were kind of bleak, it was nice to see people who share the same DNA that I have in my body.

Over this summer break, it's come to my attention that I don't do a great job of reaching out to people... not like I'd like to anyway...  Some of it's because I have a young son... some of it is because by the end of the day and all the things I need to do, I am spent... and some of it is because I fight against being a misanthrope.   And some of that is because I've been hurt so much, some of it is because I am so worn out and the introvert ME needs a recharge, and some of it is because... well, it's just not possible to interact with all the people that I want to interact with in a limited 24- hour period.  So anyway... I AM trying to do better in this area, but will give myself ALL the grace I need to fail in this area...

This blog is already not making sense in my head so I'm not sure that it will be any better on here... but this is what I've been thinking about... with no real answer... yet...

Many times in my life, my Church (see capital C... not specific to any church that I am currently attending!) family has come around me and "adopted" me when my own blood relatives decided to disown me.... so many tangible ways... ways that would take me a long time to recount...

When I was visiting my grandmother in the hospital that I was born in, I greeted a pastor and his wife who had pastored my family when I was a child... "You remember Brother and Sister Rogers, don't you, Buffy?"  Well, of course I did!  And my mom and I shared several, "do you remember when you" stories... "Do you remember when you came over and helped us with that plumbing problem when my dad was off-shore?  You crawled under the house in your slacks and best shoes to help us out!"

I started thinking about how in the church that I grew up in we called each other "Brother Bob" and "Sister Sue."  My great-aunt attended the church I grew up in and it messed with my head for my momma to call her "Sister Ward."  How was Aunt Polly... Sister Ward?

But it threw me off... Brother and Sister?  I giggled to myself.  Hadn't I gotten too cool to call my uh... fellow church ... people... fellow Christ Communitians.... uh... yeah... to call them Brother Smith and Sister Biff?  I mean, wasn't that SSOOOOOO like, 1992? 

Well, this theme of Church family has come back to me during this week in a variety of ways... Sunday's sermon... conversations with new Church family members.... a card from friends writing to tell me that they were praying for me.... and I thought about how truly we are family... And what if I called y'all "sister" and "brother" on a Sunday morning.... would it remind me... would it remind you... would it show the world... that we are family?

Here's one of Christ Community's Core Values:
Authentic Relationships:  Because God created us for community, we devote ourselves to building healthy relationships -- Demonstrated by... engaging in life together with transparency, humility, compassion, and a commitment to speaking the truth in love (Acts 2:42-47; Rom. 12:15-16; Eph. 4:14-15; I John 4:10-12). [http://ccclive.org/aboutus.html] -- which I love because it doesn't leave room for any bologna... and yet it leaves room for me to be this spiritual mess!!

And I am no where NEAR having this one assimilated to my spiritual DNA... that is to say I KNOW that I don't have this one NAILED down (so put down that rock you were about to throw... or better yet, just point that finger in another direction) because this is an idea that is JUST starting to bubble under the surface of my scalp...  I know that I have a lot of over come to do a better job of being Church family... so lift up a prayer for me.... maybe I'll start by greeting you with "brother" or "sister" on Sunday morning... and I'll probably feel stupid for doing it... for putting myself out there... for being so vulnerable... but so what?  If I can't look like a goof with family... then I'm in big trouble! 

what Kung Fu Panda 2 taught me

I love movies.  Seriously... love... movies...  My channel is usually on Turner Classic Movies or hubby and I are discussing what movie we want to see next.

So we went to see Kung Fu Panda 2 over Memorial Day weekend... there was this part where Po (the panda) has discovered that he's adopted by his dad Mr. Ping... who is a duck.  It was obvious from the first movie that Po was adopted, but that never mattered to how his father adored him.  But finding out that he was adopted changed Po's outlook on life.

At the start of Po's adventure, Mr. Ping questions his returning from the battle... and Po, a bit put-off says, "but, I'm the Dragon Warrior."  And Mr. Ping says, "But you're my son, aren't you?"

That struck me as a conversation that God has had with me:  "But, Lord, I'm a mommy, I'm a speech pathologist, I'm ..."  [fill-in-the-blank].

But above and beyond your busy-ness and titles and projects, you are my child....

I dunno... just kind of struck me... how I forget that some days...

Shouting at Thunder

My little son Hero teaches me so much and without even trying sometimes.   A few weeks ago, the weather changed from scorching hot and sunny to a thunderstorm.  The thunder started and Hero ran to me scared.  I told him not to be afraid that it was the thunder... that God was just moving His furniture around (something my mom told me as a child to calm my fear of the thunder).  I walked out of the living room into the bathroom to put some towels away when I heard thunder again.

Then I heard Hero yelling: "You shut up, thunder!  SHUT UP!  BE QUIET, Thunder! YOU STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

I smiled to myself, but felt really proud of my boy too... so many times, I've been running away from the things that I fear and Hero was standing on the couch, ready to fight the thunder!

If only I could be so brave!  To shout back at the thunderstorms of my life because I know that the God that I serve is above and beyond those stormy skies... why should I be afraid?  why should I feel anxious?  God never promised an easy ride, but He said that He would be there right with us along the way.

thinking

today, I am thinking about how quickly time flies... how I can improve the look of this blog template (put the words in bold print or leave them plain?  can people see it easier)... all the projects that I could complete if I had a 24-hour block of time to make it happen... how non-Type A I've become over the past few years... how I can leave Hero in the other room playing and not have to worry so much about him... how many therapy material projects I have that I want to do, but no time to do them... how Hero will grow up with a second generation of Transformers, Star Wars, and G.I. Joe.... how Hero will grow up with Facebook, Blackberries and text messaging... that his 4 year old birthday party is coming up in a few weeks and how thankful I am for 4 "normal" years... and praying for 400 more "normal" years... how I want to teach Hero how to properly interpret scripture so that he doesn't fall in the trap his daddy and I did years ago, living with unanswered prayers and being angry with God because "It's our faulty theology, not that we serve a faulty God"... how I wish that I knew how to sew... how God's blessings in my life has nothing to do with my bank account balance... how lovely it is to have Audrey living across town from me...  how awesome it is that our kids get to play together... a quote from Dano this week about leaving other people's attitudes on their side of the fence...  the to-do list that I need to complete today... and how, as my engagement anniversary approaches, I once thought that I was so un-lovely, that no one would ever want to marry me... that God brought him to me from 350 miles away and caused us to be in the same place at the same time... Amazing God...

Waking from the American Dream

A couple of years ago, Keith Cowart, the pastor at Christ Community, took us through a sermon series that addressed finances and our debt load... it was the first sermons on money in which I never heard the phrase: "You need to sow a seed of faith"!  Nor was it discussed how much money I needed to drop in the offering plate!  Instead the importance of being free from debt was addressed... my husband and I started The Total Money Makeover by Dave Ramsey... and I wrote this as my declaration of independence!  I feel the need from time to time to return to this declaration for myself... to remind myself of the torture that being under that kind of bondage brought to me and my marriage... and how free He is helping me to become...

Waking from the American Dream

     I am slowly waking up from a bad dream.  In this dream, I am a hamster on a wheel and I can't get off.  The wheel makes me nervous, scared, worried, annoyed and self-reliant.  As I try to get off the wheel once or twice, I trip and fall.  In my embarrassment and shame, I get back on the wheel-- afraid to look up, running harder than before, trying to make up for the blunder.
     But this isn't a dream.  This is my life- my prison, the cell that society has told me I belong in.
     I see a blanket of grace, but I dare not reach for it.  I am more comfortable in this frazzled state on the wheel just because it is familiar to me.  I'm even used to the flashing marquee "The American Dream " even though I don't sleep well at night because the flashing keeps me awake.  I know just how to move to keep my spiritual wounds from aching too badly.  And even the slight ache I constantly feel... well, I've learned to take pride in all my battle wounds.  If I didn't have the wheel and the wounds, what would I talk about with my fellow inmates?  I would no longer have the complaints.  I could no longer contribute.  I could no longer relate. 
     So I stay on the wheel a little longer... I have nothing else to do... I need to contribute to society... It's what's expected of me... But I stay on anyway, until tragedy strikes and I am forced off the wheel.  I've been forced off the wheel before, but I've always been able to get myself back on... albeit, with a broken limb that one time (I still have that spiritual limp). 
     But this time is different.  I am desperate.  This pain, I cannot ignore. I cannot treat this wound myself.  The wound is too deep.  I am desperate for a true healing touch. 
     Fellow inmates shout words at me:  "It's God's will!" 
"There must be a reason for this!" 
"You'll be ok!"
It's like putting band-aids on a broken leg... I cry out for help.  I am desperate.  This hurts too much. 
     He comes to me.  He takes the blanket of grace and wraps it around me.   He rocks me to sleep...
     When I wake, my wounds are healed.  Even the ones I tried to mend myself.  Time has passed from when He put the blanket around me and the time I wake.  I thank Him and I worship Him.
     The wheel calls to me.  I step back on and run.  This is what I am supposed to do, right?  
     I see Him nearby: "You don't have to run anymore.  I'll give you everything you need,"  He says.
     How can I trust You?  I've been so hurt and disappointed in the past.
     "Perfect Love casts out fear."
     What does that mean?
     "Put on the helmet of salvation."
     What does that mean?
     "Think about the Cross."
     You died for me there.  Because You love me.  Because I am Yours.  
     I am silenced.
     And in my silence, I begin to work on destroying my wheel - The Flashing American Dream.  It's empty and frivolous- chasing material possessions, chasing for a companion, chasing recognition at work, running till I'm spent...
     I am still working on destroying my wheel.  I mess up and get distracted from the demolition.  I even get back on from time to time.  But the Savior is near.  And He's made a coat for me out of that blanket of grace that protects me from the winter of myself.

The Music in Me

I was driving  today, listening to a Jars of Clay CD that I recently purchased from iTunes... and I started singing... I couldn't help it: I was compelled to sing... and my little boy yelled, "Be quiet, Momma!  Too loud!"  I shrugged-  I said, "You can't help it when you hear music either."  My husband's the same way-- there is always a song playing somewhere in my house... or car... or head...

Let me see if I can explain it better:  when I hear the music and the beat and start singing the music, the stimulation of what I hear and what I feel humming in my chest is so comforting, that whatever was bothering me or upsetting to me, fades away with every beat of the drum; with every thump of the bass; with every strum of the guitar; with every vocal trip up the scale- it is salve and balm to my soul.  And I walk away a new gal... especially if the lyrics remind me of God's might and goodness.

Add that in with what Oswald Chambers wrote in My Utmost for His Highest: "Worship is giving God the best that He has given to you..."

Well, then, I'm just done for, huh?  Since we no longer have animal sacrifices, and if we are to bring the sacrifice of praise... then my voice, time/energy, raised hands or bowed head or bended knee... is a meager thank-offering for all He's done for me... [see the entire book of Pslams... my favorite book of the Bible].

Ghosts

Do you ever have one of those moments where all your enemies or demons or (whatever you want to call them) come rushing at you all at once?  It's like some action movie scene that converges all at once and there you are surrounded by the enemy... and for several moments, there's the face off -- everyone waiting for the other to make the first move.  

That's what it felt like this weekend going back home -- some weird stand-off and I'm the one in the middle of the scrum.  It was already bad enough that I was home because my grandmother was hospitalized... It was already bad enough that Hero and I had to travel the 6 hours trip alone... It was already bad enough  that we wouldn't be able to spend Father's Day with my husband... It was bad enough that it was Father's Day...

A few years ago, Mother's Day and Father's Day would put me in the bed with a sick headache... my dad left us over Mother's Day weekend years ago.  And even though many years have passed, I found myself Saturday night, standing in the bathroom of the house that I grew up in, staring at myself in the mirror like I did when I was 17, thinking about the events of 2000.  I've physically changed quite a bit, but I realized that I still struggle with the same demons.  Now, don't get me wrong, Jesus has done a huge work in my life...  He's brought me light-years from where I used to be... but Saturday night, all the conditions were right for me to have a pity party.  

But as I stood there, washing my face, thinking about the sad events of my life, the Lord brought this verse to mind...
The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by Him we cry, “Abba, Father.” Romans 8:15 (NIV)

Wow, how amazing.

So while man has rejected me, the God of the universe adopted me... and this isn't a foster care situation where I'm gonna be plucked from this home one day.... I am His... He's claimed me as His own... I call Him, "Daddy."