Ever heard of Nerf Wars? No, they're nothing like Star Wars. Nerf Wars are when teams of teens make a bracket (like you would in any sports tournament). The teams go against their assigned opponents with the goal of hitting more members of the opposing team with Nerf bullets than the opposing team hits of your team by the end of the assigned time. Shot players are out and can no longer shoot. Winning teams advance to the next bracket. It’s like an extended game of dodge ball, only with Nerf guns. Got it? But as with most games, there’s a lot to be learned by the rules—life lessons. I’ve had the pleasure of spectating and strategizing with my daughter as she partook in this war with her friends, and I’ve learned a few strategies I want to apply to my daily life. 1. Be intentional There is a thrill, an excitement, and a little bit of anxiety during Nerf Wars, because at any moment you could get shot. It’s all in fun—it’s just a game, so the stakes aren’t high, but still there’s that strange feeling that someone is after you. My daughter had to rethink her daily tasks. She had to be intentional about things she usually did by rote, things she took for granted. She asked if she could park in the garage instead of the driveway, so she could pull her car in, shut the garage door, and never be out in the open where she could get shot. She started conversations with people she hadn’t chatted with before, so she could decipher when and where her opponents were going. She planned new routes home from school in case she was being followed. I, too, need to be more intentional. There are so many things I habitually do without even thinking about them. I eat the same things for breakfast, read the same blogs, and sit in the same seat at church. What if I approached each day fully aware and intent on expanding my horizons and picking the best routes for my daily life instead of the most familiar ones? 2. Never leave your wingman. Just like in Top Gun, In Nerf Wars it’s not only important to be in constant communication with your teammates, it’s also critical to have someone with you—a wingman. Maybe your wingman will drive while you roll down the passenger window to shoot an opponent. Maybe, if they’re already out of the game, your wingman will act as a human shield to protect you from oncoming Nerf bullets. Maybe a wingman will help you find someone’s house, or just to keep you company or make you laugh while you’re on a stakeout. I also need a wingman. We aren’t created to do life alone. We all need people to talk to, to laugh with, to plan with. Some days I need my friends and family to act as human shields, protecting me from unkind words or rejections from the world. I definitely need a small, close circle of people praying for and with me. I hope my wingmen and wingwomen and wingkids never leave my side. I’m reminded how important it is to stand by theirs 3. Stay in the light
I cracked up each night when my daughter called, asking me to turn on all the outside lights. When she pulled up to our house, she wanted a clear view—wanted to see if anyone was waiting to attack her. I also need to stay in the light. I need to stay where I can see what’s going on, where I can tell the difference between right and wrong. There are places I’ve been and people I’ve been around, that when I’m there or with them, everything starts to get dim, maybe even dark. Where decisions are harder, where lines get blurry. You probably have your darker places, too. But Jesus is light. And when I stay grounded in Him, I can see what’s coming, and not be taken by surprise. I can see things for what they truly are, and act accordingly. When I shine His light on any situation it gets brighter and clearer, and I am immediately less concerned about the unknown. I don’t know what battles you’re fighting today. I hope they’re just all fun and games, like Nerf Wars. But I know some days the battles are real. When they are, be intentional, keep a wingman close by, and stay in the marvelous light of Jesus.
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I need a knee brace when I run, windshield wipers so I can see while driving in the rain, my Map App to get me anywhere outside of my neighborhood, and a hot pad to pull something out of the oven. There are things I need help with in life, things I can’t do on my own. Only, I like to do things by myself. I don’t like to ask for help. Ever. I like to make my to-do list and get it done without bothering, pestering or imposing on anyone else, thank you very much! I’m a writer, for crying out loud. I thrive on holing up with my computer and making up stories. By myself. The problem is, just like I can’t run without my knee brace, I can’t do life without asking for help. I can’t. You can’t. None of us can do it alone. We weren’t meant to. Case in point. Last night two of my kids had soccer practice, another had flag football practice, and the fourth had a soccer game. All of these activities were scattered in various locations around Southwest Ohio. There was also a meeting I was supposed to attend. I clearly could not do it all. Not unless I found a rogue time-turner. I did not go to the meeting (don’t worry, I let them know I couldn’t come). I relied on another parent to get my daughter to and from her practice. A teammate with a driver's license transported my son to and from his practice. My husband and I divided and conquered the rest. Whew! I hesitated to ask for help from these parents and friends. I mapped through every possibility of how I could do it by myself, but I couldn’t. And I wasn’t supposed to. And neither are you. Life is not a scorecard of who gave the most rides. Nor is it a debt I owe—since I called on others for assistance, I’m required to give back to others in eight days or I’ll be fined. It is love. It is how Jesus told us to love our neighbors. Sometimes we just need to accept that we are the neighbors who need the loving. It is how He told us to stir up one another in love and good works. We are to meet together and encourage each other. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another… Hebrews 10:24-25 I will offer a ride to another child, and feed a friend a meal, but not as payback, but because this is how Jesus loves us, it’s how He loves me and you, and I’m so blown away by that, that I want to pay it forward. But I also need to accept that love when it’s me who needs it. Needing help has so many different faces. My kids’ soccer schedules are minimal in the scheme of life. Needing help could be huge like asking for a loan so you can make your house payment or small like ordering cupcakes from the bakery, because you don’t have time to bake and frost them for the birthday celebration. If you read last week’s blog, you know I’m struggling with my kids going back to school and with my oldest being in her “fourth” year of high school (that s- word hurts too much). A dear friend not only sensed my mama heartache, but was feeling the same way since her baby bird is flying the nest. She called. We talked for over an hour, and shared our sadness and our joy. Just knowing someone else understood my heart was like balm for my soul. Accepting her love, her compassion didn’t make me feel like I was using her, or like I was weak; it made me feel better. That’s what love looks like. Yet, we still try to do things by ourselves, don’t we? I’m fine. I’ve got it. No worries. It’s alright. I can do it. These are our mantras. But they don’t have to be. We don't have to do it alone. What do you need help with this week, this season of your life? Do you need someone to bring the snack, work your shift, take over your leadership position, give you direction, explain a math problem, or give you a referral? Maybe you really need someone to listen, because there is so much on your mind, tugging at your heart. Maybe you could use some serious prayers, because there are things way beyond your control causing you and the ones you love suffering.
Don’t be afraid to ask. This is not an indicator of weakness or incapability. It’s just a matter of the fact that all of us have limited time and finite resources and multiple needs. God knows we need help. He doesn’t want us to do it alone. He sensed Adam was lonely and created Eve. He knew the world was a mess, and He sent His only Son. Jesus ascended into heaven, but sent down the Holy Spirit to be with us. God loves each and every one of us, and not only is He available any place any time of day we want to talk to Him, He has also put in our life others who can help us too. I wavered about sending out my flurry of texts asking for rides for my kids here and there. But the alternative was my kids not going to their activities. Guess what? Not one person seemed flustered or put out by my requests. My kids got where they needed to be. At the end of the night we were all back home together. That is a beautiful thing. And all I had to do was ask. Are you ready to ask for help today? Because God is waiting to give it to you. Jesus instructs the disciples: For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Matthew 7:8 That’s an invitation I’d like to take Him up on. Looks like I have some asking to do? You? Like its name implies, the Lucky Day shelf at my library houses the Best Sellers you can never get your hands on, the you-hit-the-jackpot, but you only have 14 days to read it shelf. I’d just finished one book, and Private Paris jumped off the Lucky Day shelf at me, solely because of the word Paris. Also, I’d never read a James Patterson book. I know! He’s the highest paid author according to Forbes, has sold over 350 million books and holds the Guinness Book record for the most #1 best sellers ever. This was my chance to see what his writing was all about, and I grabbed it. I was reading along. Delicate croissants. Creamy café au laits. The Opera House. A dreamy café. Sigh. Chase scenes. Action. Very Jason Bourne. Perfect. A gruesome murder made me squeamish. I wondered if I should keep reading, because something about this felt polluted. But I bantered in my head. Okay, I can handle this. It’s still intriguing. It’s still Paris. And then I got to almost, but not quite, page 100. And Eek Zeke! Beyond disturbing, horrifying erotic photos are found as a clue to the mystery. I closed the book. I don’t care how many copies he’s sold, I don’t care how many times he’s topped the list, James Patterson, “No thank you.” You might love him. But this book wasn’t for me, and I knew it down deep. I could have kept reading. No one would have known. My kids. My husband. My friends. They wouldn’t have seen what I was reading. It wasn’t real. It was just fiction. I wasn’t doing these things. Just going along for a pleasure read. Right? But the words we read etch grooves in our brains. The stories remain. Think of how many times you’ve read something, and it pops in your head later to share with a friend—an interesting article, an inspirational quote. This story was NOT something I wanted resurfacing in my mind. And if you’re a huge Patterson fan, that’s cool. I’m not judging. I just knew this book crossed a personal boundary that made me feel uncomfortable. I knew it earlier on. I sensed it was coming. I should have stopped sooner. Sounds like a lot of temptations from my teen years. I knew under my skin it was wrong. I thought about putting an end to antics, but maybe kept going a little too long. There comes a point of no return. And this time, I wasn’t going to cross it. Fast-forward a day or two to the doctor’s office for annual physicals. When scheduling our usual doc was unavailable, but the receptionist had said, “You’re in luck. We have appointments available with our newest physician.” So we’d taken them. As my child was on the table and the “new-to-the-practice” pediatrician was checking their abdomen he said, “You don’t mind if I look at their privates?” Time stopped. It was one of those moments, when you’re caught off guard, and you’re not sure if you heard someone right, and you get a little warning signal, that something is off, and as a result, you’re not quite sure how to respond. I mean this guy was a doctor. But I didn’t know him. And at our last three or four rounds of physicals I’m certain this hadn’t been part of protocol. Some parents would be cool with this—with a trusted doctor, if it was part of their annual routine. But it wasn’t, and I wasn’t. Something in my gut told me it was not okay. I wondered if I said, “No!” Would he think I meant, “No, I don’t mind”? If I said, “Yes,” would he mistake it for giving permission? Time stopped. It was one of those moments, when you’re caught off guard, and you’re not sure if you heard someone right, and you get a little warning signal, that something is off, and as a result, you’re not quite sure how to respond. I mean this guy was a doctor. But I didn’t know him. And at our last three or four rounds of physicals I’m certain this hadn’t been part of protocol. Some parents would be cool with this—with a trusted doctor, if it was part of their annual routine. But it wasn’t, and I wasn’t. Something in my gut told me it was not okay. I wondered if I said, “No!” Would he think I meant, “No, I don’t mind”? If I said, “Yes,” would he mistake it for giving permission? It was the exact same feeling I’ve had before. In high school they called it peer pressure. “You don’t mind if we sneak out of your house to meet these cute guys? We’ll just stay out a little longer, okay? You’re cool if we leave the game early to grab a couple of beers? We don’t have to tell your parents, right?” They’re questions, but not really. More like statements with a question mark tagged on the end at the last minute. What do I say? How do I react? To my friends? To my teammates? To my ride home? No, I don’t want that to happen. Yes it bothers me. How will I get home if I say, “no”? “Yes, I mind,” I blurted to the doc. “Well, oh, well,” he stammered, his hand still on my child, “I really recommend this at a well check up.” I’d said, “no”, but he was pushing back. Who said peer pressure ends when you graduate? “No thank you,” I chirped, louder this time. Is anyone asking you to do something that makes you uncomfortable? That sends a strange glob to your stomach, makes your throat itch? It could be something perfectly fine for someone else. It could have been okay for you on another day or in another season or for a different one of your children, but your internal radar tells you something is amiss. It might even be labeled as “you’re in luck” but you still know it is wrong. And when that happens, you have a voice, you have a right, you are allowed to say, “no.” In fact, God encourages us to stand up for what’s right, and not fall for the ways of this world.
We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ. Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity. 2 Corinthians 10:4-6 MSG Everyday we are faced with choices. And we need to think through our decisions. Often we get some time to think them over. We know what the seniors do at the first Cross Country meet each year. We know a certain person will push our buttons when we see them. We’ve seen what happens at the after hour party at our annual conference. We’ve heard about the initiation process for newbies. When we know, we owe it to ourselves to be prepared with a response, with an action plan. We can be proactive about our decisions. Other times choices pounce at us, jump from behind the corner when we weren’t expecting them. And then what? And then we need to quickly process if doing this thing is good, is acting that way just, is going that place right? And if the answer is “no”, then that needs to be our answer too. Even when it’s hard to say it. Even when people might judge us or scorn us or laugh at us or roll their eyes at us or not invite us next time or look us over for the promotion. Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:8 God gave us a voice and He wants us to use it. Stand up for what you believe in, so your true reflection can shine. You are beautiful. You are priceless. You are made in the image of God. You are His treasure, His masterpiece. The Creator of the Universe created you and me, and He loves us just like we are. But some days we don’t see it. Some days we can’t. We lose sight of our true reflections. There are days when we fail to believe that we have value, or tend to distort our self worth as the images and comparisons of the world barrage us with the false pretense that we need to be perfect, as the world defines perfect, and that we need to reach that level of perfection all of the time. We don’t. We’re already perfect in God’s eyes. Let me say that again. In God’s eyes you are perfect! Just the way you are. But there are days when we trip and fall, when we can’t pay the bill, can’t do the balance in yoga, don’t get the joke, are left out of the conversation, aren’t invited to the party. There are the days we get horrifying news, we get rejected, and we fail. And it’s hard to remember that our true reflection is that of beauty. It’s hard to find anything of value left within us. But it is so worth seeking. How do we find our true reflections? I urge you to go on a treasure hunt today to remind yourself of who you are—Christ’s masterpiece. Clue #1 Hang out with people who love you for your true self. You are more valuable than gold, and you’ll be reminded of this by the people who truly understand and appreciate you.
Clue #2 Dig for your true reflection in The Word of God. Use these coordinates to unearth the treasure of who God created you to be:
Discover your full potential by doing something you love. Are you energized by a run? Go on one today and allow the adrenaline to course through your veins reminding yourself that you are strong and capable. Does music soothe your soul? Sit down at the piano bench and let the notes flow from you, reminding you of the beauty you can create. When we do the things God made us to do, we realize more fully our capabilities and worth. DIDN’T I SAY SOMETHING ABOUT FREE BOOKS?
Amy Parker’s children’s books also remind us how much God loves us. Her two new releases Night Night Mommy and Night Night Daddy are treasures in themselves. Amy is giving away free, autographed copies of her new books all over the country and has asked me to join in the fun. For a treasure map of where to find the books click on her website, AND….for any of my readers who live near Oxford, Ohio, a copy of each of these books have been hidden within your reach. Wouldn’t it be awesome if you could find one and read it to someone small reminding them how awesome they are, how loving our God is? Who knows, you might just be reminded how much God loves you, too. Find the free books, keep, read, share or pass them along. It’s not that tricky. Clue #1 Night Night Mommy It's easy if you Tri, just go to the front door and open your eye Clue #2 Night Night Daddy This used to be a place for only women students to live, now it's a place for artists to dance, sing, paint and give Is anybody on the hunt for the books? Leave a comment describing your treasure hunting adventures and how they pan I always suspected that there was something of goodness in me, but I just couldn’t find it. Until one day—one day I discovered it here, in my heart. I found it…goodness. And ever since that day, I have always known who I was. And now, nothing can touch me. ~Miguel How does a gang member in Los Angeles find his goodness? Racial tension is ugly. Gang violence is ugly. Drugs are ugly. Los Angeles County is home to over 1100 active gangs comprising over 86,000 people. According to the LAPD, in the last three years over 16,400 violent crimes were attributed to gangs in the City of Angels. How can someone possibly find his or her worth in the midst of this? Miguel found his beauty thanks to Father Greg Boyle, a Jesuit priest in Los Angeles who didn’t look at the drugs, or the crimes, or the violence, he didn’t look at the different ethnicities, or the rap sheets of his parishioners, but he looked at them as humans—as humans who were struggling to find and believe in their true value. Boyle saw a way to help gang members like Miguel find the true beauty not only in themselves, but in each other. He knew if the teens could start fresh, get a high school diploma, get a job, they could break cycles of poverty, be less reliant on the drug trade; begin to understand that they had skills and gifts. When Fr. Greg, or as his friends call him, “G”, talked to these teens, they wanted to go to school. But the schools wouldn’t take them, not with their records, their backgrounds. So, Boyle created a school for them. And when they graduated who would hire them? As Boyle explained when I saw him speak in Cincinnati, “Surprisingly there wasn’t much of a job market for ex convicts.” Insert laughter of the crowd here. But again, the barriers of society didn’t stop G. He put on his entrepreneur hat and started his own company, Homeboy Bakery. Its purpose is “to create an environment that provides training, work experience and above all, the opportunity for rival gang members to work side by side.” Side by side? As in teaching people who have been raised to hate one another to appreciate each another, to respect one another. Boyle challenged listeners during his talk, “We belong to each other. How do we bridge the gap?” He continued to explain his motivation to bring these gang members together and to give them purpose, “What Jesus took seriously was inclusion and acceptance.” Good point. Did it work? You bet. Not only did Homeboy Bakery take off, but it was the catalyst for Homeboy Industries, which now includes multiple businesses. It is recognized as the largest gang intervention and re-entry program in the world. The jobs, the opportunities, the new life Homeboy Industries has given the poor, marginalized, desperate gang population in L.A. blows me away. But what blows me away even more is story after story about how people who hated each other now love each other. Fr. Greg told one story about “homies” who just a few months ago were shooting bullets at each other, and now they’re shooting texts at one another”. He told more tales of individuals who had always despised each other who are now not only working side by side, but calling each other “brother” and “friend”. A miracle? Not really. Because this is how Jesus always envisioned things. Treating each other as we would like to be treated. But is it easy? Are we doing a good job at keeping the Golden Rule? How did Fr. Greg do it? He saw these individuals for the beautiful creations they were made to be. He recognized their true beauty. He proclaims, “It is our job to hold the mirror up, tell people they are exactly what God had in mind when He made them, and watch people grow into that truth.”
What if we took a lesson from Father Greg, sought beauty in all humans, realized we all have potential, we all have talents, we all deserve to be loved? How can I hold up a mirror for someone else today? How can you? Show someone who they truly are, that they are exactly what God intended when He made them? We can start with ourselves. Go find a mirror, gaze into it, and say out loud, “You are exactly what God had in mind when He made you.” And we can watch ourselves grow into our own true beautiful reflections. Then we can point others towards the mirror, and let beautiful ripple effects take over. Brett’s aunt was turning 75 and her husband was throwing a surprise party to celebrate. We had a million and eight excuses not to go. Brett had just had hand surgery. I was on the fifteenth day of fighting a sinus infection and the snot was winning. The party was an hour away from home. On a weeknight. The night before the kids’ last day of school before Christmas break. But Brett’s aunt was turning 75! So, despite obstacles and inconveniences we paid the very small price of attending—a little time, a little planning, a little more energy than we had in the reserves. And it was glorious. There was lobster. AND cake. But even better than the lobster and cake was a room full of people celebrating a woman who has lived life large. Aunt Linda was a flight attendant who has traveled the world from China to Germany to Paris back to California and Ohio again. She actually made a deal with Monte Hall on the original Let’s Make a Deal show. She worked as a waitress in the Playboy club in the 70’s and has stories about Hugh Hefner that would make your eyes pop. She has lived. And this gathering of neighbors, family and friends was a testament to her verve and vitality. What if we’d stayed home? Called in sick? Everyone would have understood. No one would have been mad at us. But we would have missed it. Jesus invites us to a feast too, in Matthew 22:1-3 “God’s kingdom,” he (Jesus) said, “is like a king who threw a wedding banquet for his son. He sent out servants to call in all the invited guests. And they wouldn’t come! Why wouldn’t the invited guests come? I mean who wouldn’t come to a wedding banquet of a king? (Cough). Perhaps the person who had the sinus infection? Or the four kids who needed to pack lunches, and bring in a treat, and a gift for their teachers the next day? Just saying. Thankfully, God doesn’t give up on us that easily. “He sent out another round of servants, instructing them to tell the guests, ‘Look, everything is on the table, the prime rib is ready for carving. Come to the feast!’ “They only shrugged their shoulders and went off, one to weed his garden, another to work in his shop. Mt 22:4-7 I mean, we have work to do, right? Driveways to shovel, dishes to wash, tests to study for, clients to serve, reports to finish, emails to send, things to sell, volunteer hours we’ve signed up for. But what are we missing when we tend to our to-do lists instead of God’s invitations? How many times do I reply to God’s invitations, “Yeah, God, that would be nice, but I’m really busy.”? It would be great if I listened intently to the story my daughter is telling about gym class, or to grab coffee with that special friend, but I have to get dinner on the table and have deadlines to meet. They’ll understand. Now is not convenient. It might not even be feasible. At the end of the day, or week, or year, or our lives, will we find peace that our home was spotless? Will we pride ourselves in having perfect attendance at our Paddle matches? Or will we savor the stories, the time together the feasts God laid out for us? That might include a move, a new position, changing majors, switching teams. These invitations could take some consideration, definitely some prayer, to make sure they’re from God, but if they are, can you imagine the party we might miss if we say no? And these invitations, these are just hors d’oeuvres. The biggest invitation from God of all, the one to hang out with Him, to be in relationship with Him. Well, that’s a feast. And I don’t want to have made any excuses that would make me miss it. I’m a big proponent of saying, “no” to things. The last thing any of us needs right now is more things on our plate. But how about living our lives large, by saying “no” to the unimportant, trivial things, and RSVPing “Yes!” to God’s invitations. Because when we drop the things we think are “so important” to show up to God’s table, we will be blown away by delicacies like lobster and cake, and laughter and relationships and love.
Then he told his servants, ‘We have a wedding banquet all prepared but no guests. The ones I invited weren’t up to it. Go out into the busiest intersections in town and invite anyone you find to the banquet.’ The servants went out on the streets and rounded up everyone they laid eyes on, good and bad, regardless. And so the banquet was on—every place filled. Matthew 22: 8-10 We’re all invited. Everyone in town. The good. The bad. Regardless. So, yes, that includes me and you. All of us. No matter where we stand today. No matter what we have or haven’t done. This is a New Year’s party we don’t want to miss! Ring in 2016 by accepting God’s invitation. This is the year we can live larger than ever. Do you know that old Rod Stewart song, “Every Picture Tells A Story (Don’t It)”? I’m understanding more and more that every person has a story, and they’ll tell it to you, and it will blow you away. All you have to do is ask. I recently experienced an amazing event in Nashville called STORY. The experience was filled with presenters sharing their stories and inspiring attendees to explore and share theirs. Abigail Washburn the Mandarin speaking, banjo playing woman from Illinois, who just returned from a tour along the Great Wall of China with Yo Yo Ma was a stand in for a sick presenter. What? This was the sub? And Jeremy Cowart, celebrity photographer who has taken photos of everyone from the Pope to the Kardashians to Sting, yet uses his celebrity to launch amazing humanitarian projects such as Help-Portrait, which offers free portraits to people who have never had their picture taken, and campaigns in Haiti, Rwanda, and Uganda to raise awareness of the devastation these people have endured and funding to help them rebuild. This guy was the guy who struggled through high school. This was the guy whose mantra growing up was, “I can’t”. But his parents repeated to him, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Phil 4:13). A reminder of truth that WE CAN, despite what the world tells us, despite what our achievement tests score us. Look what he’s become! Think what you can become. Jon Guerra appeared on stage plucking his acoustic guitar and breaking into a soulful melody “We are stained it’s true, but when Your light shines through, we all look like stained glass windows to You.” And there was the lady who played the bassoon and the woman I bumped into at an after party in a warehouse who made a cotton candy tree full of wishes. And James Rhodes, world renowned classical pianist and composer, who played Chopin so beautifully it made me weep, then proceeded to share openly his story of being sexually abused as a child and how music saved him. Not to mention the fact my sweet friend who I attended Story with and I, stayed up late in an artsy Nashville hotel wearing our pj’s watching Taylor Swift videos. We all have stories. I could go on and on. But you get the idea. Stories. We all have them. Each and every human being was knitted together in our mother’s wombs (Psalm 139:14) by God, our Creator, with skills and fears, hopes and hiccups, weaknesses and joys, leaps and bounds, whispers and screams. And God takes all of those marvelous little details and writes our stories. It’s like an Encyclopedia Brown mystery, in that God gives us the opportunity to choose if the hero (you or me) will pick A or B, will they give up or keep going, will they try harder or stop trying, will she dream bigger, smile broader, take a different path when the first one is blocked? Will he or she trust in the Author of their story for a happy ending even when the villain seems menacing and the tornado is twisting and they’re locked in a closet? Will they tap into the courage and peace their God has to offer? Will you? What’s your story? What’s the story of the person next to you, the one you’ve never talked to, the kid who sits in the back of class, or the woman on the far side of church, or the person who always shows up late and leaves a minute early at boot camp? Are you willing to ask them? Are you willing to share yours? Because when we hear other people’s stories, we see their true reflections, often for the first time. And when we share ours, we let other people see ours. And they are all beautiful.
Pulling out of the small parking lot after consuming the most ridiculous cappuccinos (so large, they were served in bowls) and an incredible brunch at Marche, my dear friend, Amy, and I couldn’t help but notice the head, shoulders and torso of a man emerging from a dumpster. Bedraggled and unshaven, he leaned over and rummaged around the trash searching for…something. The decadent crêpe I’d just demolished, laced with apricots and dark chocolate, felt heavy in my stomach. My heart felt even heavier in my chest. “What’s he looking for?” Amy asked, “food?” “Probably,” I sighed, “so sad.” “So sad,” she echoed, while clicking on her blinker and turning down the narrow alleyway. I’m not from Nashville, and even if I was, I have no sense of direction, so I allowed my mind to pray for the man while Amy drove. But only for about a minute and a half, because then she pulled into a minimart, shoved her car into park, and shouted to me, as she jumped out of her running car, “Be back in a minute.” She could have needed Advil or gum; maybe she needed to pick up something for her boys. As promised she was back in in less than sixty seconds with a bag, but it wasn’t full of sundries. It was jammed with food. For the man. “You’re amazing,” I said to her, as she turned back towards the dumpster. “He was hungry. I had a couple of dollars,” she said. “It won’t fix anything, but at least he won’t be hungry today.” When the dumpster came back into view, the man had vacated. But he hadn’t gone far. We spotted him pushing his abandoned grocery cart filled with smashed aluminum cans. Amy rolled down the window, and the man spoke first, “Just collecting my cans,” as if we chatted all the time and he was just giving us an update. Amy handed him the bag, told him to have a great day, and we drove off, just like that. You should have seen the beautiful smile on his weathered face. Amy was wrong. It had fixed something, maybe not his cycle of poverty, or his need for sustainable income, but it had changed his perspective of himself. For a moment on a Wednesday in October, my friend showed this man his true reflection, not in a mirror, but in a bag of peanuts and crackers. She showed him he was noticed, he was worthy, that he deserved brunch just as much as we did, and that he didn’t deserve to have to rummage through a trash heap to find it or to gather enough cans to finance it. She showed him that somebody cared. And in showing this man his true reflection, Amy’s true beauty played a beautiful melody throughout Music City, her own beautiful reflection beaming bright. In one of my favorite childhood shows, Fraggle Rock, the Fraggles sought insight from Marjory the Trash Heap. “I’m orange peels, I’m coffee grounds, I’m wisdom!” she proclaimed.
On this day, I also found unexpected wisdom from a trash heap. I’m not sure if the man was knee deep in orange peels, but I’m pretty sure after experiencing the cappuccinos at Marche that there were coffee grounds. Because my sweet friend Amy could see that this man was a beautiful creation in Christ, she was able to remind him that he was. And in so doing, in offering love, she showed the world what true beauty looks like. Do you remember Fraggle Rock? Do you remember any of the wisdom from the Trash Heap? Do you know someone whose true reflection shines? Let me know about them. I’d love to highlight them on my blog. Raise your hand if you’ve ever had one of those days that did NOT go at all how you planned. You know, the kind where you keep asking yourself, “What the what?!!!” A day when you feel like your plans were hacked? This was yesterday for me. For those of you who don’t know, I live in a small town, population 25,000. It’s a beautiful, charming, hip, college town, small town with funky boutiques and adorable cafes, but like I said, it’s small. So every now and then, I have to be like Laura Ingalls, climb into my covered wagon and head into TOWN, translation a city with national chains, with a mall. For me, this city is Cincinnati. The shopping area that serves most of my needs is an hour away. Not a huge deal, but definitely a planned trip, not a spontaneous errand. And when I go, I have a list. So yesterday was a day I’d planned to head to Cincinnati. There was a lovely event planned at my daughter’s school. The length of said event was unknown, but I knew I would have a chunk of time to head down to Cinci, run some big city errands, grab lunch with a friend who lives down there, and get back in time to pick up my kids from school. The event was over sooner than expected. I hugged my daughter, hopped in my car and headed south. As I parked, I noticed a text from my husband saying, “Visa called, our credit card had been hacked.” He knew I was planning on shopping and wanted to warn me I no longer had access to credit. No problem. The mall had an ATM. I grabbed the pair of shoes I’d ordered for my son to wear for Easter from Children’s Place that were too big and headed inside. Only to discover the Children’s Place at the mall had closed. Okay, so that errand would have to wait for another day. I redirected myself to the ATM machine and inserted my card. It spit back out at me. I flipped it over and tried again. The machine told me there was an error. I wiped the card off on my jeans and reinserted it. The machine asked me to try again. After ten attempts and starting to feel as conspicuous as if I was trying to print counterfeit money, I walked away. So here I was at the mall with no credit card and about $12 in my wallet an hour and a half before I was supposed to meet my friend. I texted her and said I was running early, if she was around, but if not, I understood. She texted back immediately, “I’m running errands in the area, can be there in ten minutes.” The first thing out of my friend’s mouth after we hugged was, “You know, it’s crazy, this is the only week of the entire month I could have met you for lunch, and the only day I had such a wide window of time. I’m so glad you called, and I’m so glad you were early.” So we began our visit at 11:00 AM instead of 12:30 PM. We sat in Panera until 1:45 PM. Instead of a quick catch up session with an old friend, I was blessed by a meaningful reconnection with a woman who has been dear to me for over twenty years. If any of my plans had gone according to my schedule, I would have missed out on precious conversation, laughter and kinship.
Did the day go how I planned it? No. Did it go even better? You betcha. Was I ever in control of my day? Am I ever in control of my life? Nope. Never. But God, who knows my needs more than I do, who understands what’s best for my soul, is always in control, and He never ever hacks me, closes down, rejects my card or is unavailable. He is always free to chat, eager to hear how I’m doing, and full of glorious plans for me, plans I could never orchestrate on my own. And He feels exactly the same way about you. The Sprit, not content to flit around on the surface, dives into the depths of God, and brings out what God planned all along. 1 Cor 2:10 MSG Have you seen God intervening in your schedule this past week to make things better than you could have? Share with me below, I’d love to hear how. One of the bonuses of living in a college town is “free week”. The first week of each semester, all of the fitness classes at the University Recreational Center are free. You can try everything from Zumba to Kick Boxing. You can take five or six classes a day for free, if you’re body is up for it. There’s a ton to learn. There’s no limit. Me? I already take yoga classes, so when I attend the first week of a semester, I’m not getting a sneak peek at what the class is like. I’m getting something even richer. I’m getting back to basics. There is an underlying current in the yoga room during free week. There are twice as many bodies. Barely any of the polished wooden floor peeks out from the kaleidoscope of yoga mats. Regulars shift, make room, adjust, give up their familiar spots for class. Which is a good thing. It gives us a new perspective. New faces pepper the room along with a rainbow of workout clothes reflected in the back mirrors. Our instructor, Holly, is especially brilliant during free week. She takes us back to basics. As the digital clock ticks 8:00 her voice begins, reminding us how to sit. Instructing us how to breathe. Reinforcing that our breath is the most important part of our practice. Breathing? Isn’t that so obvious? But don’t I forget? We spend an hour going back to the core elements of yoga. And it is beautiful. And it is extremely difficult. I discover there are multiple poses I thought I’d figured out that I haven’t. I realize there are certain times my hips are out of line or that I forget to breathe altogether. I’ve been so focused on transitions and balance and strength, I forgot to focus on the basics. Transitions, balance, and strength are all important. They all help me get more out of the class. And it’s not that I’ve never heard the basics, never been taught how to breathe. It’s just that I lose sight of them, in the midst of everything else. My faith is like this too. It is critical for me to continuously go back to basics, to relearn how to breathe in God’s grace, to reteach myself the Gospel. God is always teaching me new things. And there are always things He helps me discover I can be working on in my life. If I flip through my most recent blog posts I get a clear picture of the recent issues on my heart—friendships in faith, following God’s plans instead of mine, turning over my fears to Jesus, slowing down. And these are all great things, things God really wants me to be working on. But want to know what He most wants me to be aware of? He wants me to breathe in the Gospel. What is the gospel? Pretty simple, yet so complex:
1. I will never measure up. Sound harsh. Not really. I’m not perfect. I fall down. I screw up. Every. Single. Day. I yell at one of my kids. Fall. It’s fine to discipline them, have certain expectations of them, but yell? Nope. I judge somebody, based on what they say or how they look or how they’re different than me. I wish I never ever did. But I do. Fall again. You get the idea. 2. Jesus died for my sins, so I don’t have to measure up. He was “all that” and then some. He is perfect. His blood covers all of my ugliness, mistrust, pride, jealousy, and insecurities. All of them. All of the time. Time and time again. I don’t have to be perfect. Ahhh. I am loved. Double ahhhh. Because God loves me, I strive to be the best version of myself – all those things on my heart—the slowing down and trusting. Yet knowing I’ll never be able to master them is a good place to start, because it reminds me of God’s grace. And how beautiful and loving and overwhelmingly amazing it is. And when I inhale the fact that He loved me enough to die for me and exhale all of my darkest moments, because He loves me even in the midst of them, it helps me with all of those other things I’m working on. I don’t know what’s on your heart today, where God is working on you, but I can promise if you remind yourself of the Gospel, of what He’s already done for you, of how immense His love is for you, you’ll be off to a good start. Breathe in. Breathe out. |
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