Salve For Old Wounds

Today was non eventful. It was cold, icy, and snowy. So, we took a much needed "snow day". It was warm and safe and we watched Madea movies and marathon sessions of Nip/Tuck. It was a pretty perfect day that included fuzzy socks and cookies baked last night for those we love...sorry if we ate yours...mostly.

And then...it hits like a Mac Truck...my sister's Facebook page. It's not her fault. It's just more than I can begin to explain. The ghost of my past...her father, my demon, the monster in my closet...made a tiny comment on one of her posts. I hadn't seen or heard him in what feels like a hundred years...and that one comment brought it all back. I can't explain the panic, the dread, the fear, the anger, the flood of emotion that comes back when I saw his picture. And, though he's aged and quite possibly harmless...I would cross the street and instruct my children to do the same if they saw him.

My sister and I are not close. We haven't spoken on the phone in years. But, she is my sister. And, when I messaged her...she was kind and immediately offered to "unfriend" him. That may not seem like much. But, a few years ago there was an investigation into some abuse in my home town and including members of her family...and she made it clear that she didn't want me to involve her father in the process..."He's old and sick," she said. That was a moment that I was unsure that I could recover from. But, today...this breath...this conversation has changed that...though not entirely...substantially for me anyway.

Thank you for allowing my sister to see me...

Confession

I have a confession...

I LOVE CHRISTMAS!!!!

I love everything about it. I love the huge/tacky, more than necessary glitter, awful sweaters, earrings that jingle, baked goods, bells...I love the carols, the Muzak, the parties, the Christmas cards in the mail...I love that it starts earlier every year. I love Nutcracker performances, stockings, and burning fireplaces.

Most of all...I love the gifting. I love the family...my family that exists all year but, especially during the coldest/warmest (if you know what I mean) season of the year. I love that I get to be a better mother than I had...I get to put so much thought into their gifts. I get to love them freely and joyfully...and not quite so seriously. I get to be goofy, and fun, and holiday mom.

So...don't rush this...don't go so fast. I want to enjoy it...the kids are leaving to spend Christmas with dads, grandparents, and cousins...so, we are going to snuggle in and watch TV because tonight is nearly tomorrow...

On my knees...

Today it's just a prayer. Recognizing how hapless, hopelessly flawed, imperfect, yet creative and gifted we all are...light and heavy all at the same time.

Dear Holy One,

Hear me even when I don't deserve to be listened to. Thank you for giving when all I can do is receive. Thank you for loving me when I least deserve it. For teaching me that love is not earned. It is given freely, by choice, and that when we least expect, deserve, provide love...it is given to us in so many unexpected ways in unexpected places, through the most unexpected people (your creation).

Help...help me to understand others even when I feel misunderstood. Help me to create, when I feel destroyed. Help me to lift up, when I feel beaten down. Help me to know what others need, when I scarcely know what my own heart needs to hear. Let me love when I am lost. Let me love when I need to be loved...because through the loving is also the being loved.

Protect us...protect me from my own mouth and ego. Protect your people from the hurts of your people...we inflict so much on each other. We are all so loved, yet in so much pain. Protect us from the recognition that we are unworthy...But, we are not...because you created all. You chose us. Protect us from feeling left behind, ignored, and less than.

Amen

Some days are more difficult...

The last couple of days have been hellacious. To say it's busy in my world is an understatement. I'm usually pretty good at rolling with the punches...But, today I literally and figuratively have reached my limit to being the one that is constantly and consistently running on fumes. 

I'm not writing this so that you (assuming anyone reads this anyway) will feel sorry for me. I demanded empathy earlier in the day, and obviously...got none. I suppose I am writing this to let go...I'm angry. And, I'm pretty sure that I am angry (mostly) with myself. You see, no one did this to me. I have overextended myself and given more of myself than I should have. It brings me comfort to take care of others. I rarely say no. In fact, I practically invite the chronic over-scheduling that I live. 

Yesterday around 1:00 P.M. I started to feel funny. I knew immediately that a migraine was on the horizon. I smelled more, could hear my hair growing, saw the funny halo light around things...so, I took something immediately after work in the attempt to stave off the approaching train wreck that I was to become. I assisted the bf in a dropbox task, helped a friend's son edit a college essay, organized my desk...and proceeded to puke because of the pain. 

My Julia was at rehearsal and I was lucky someone else could go pick her up. Because, I was incapable of driving. So, I went to bed thinking I could shake it by morning. No such luck. I had to work today. I'm hourly now and sick days aren't an option. 

But, here's the thing...I haven't had a full day off since September. I worked Thanksgiving. I will work on Christmas Eve, possibly Christmas, and New Year's Eve...not because I want to, but out of necessity. I love all three of my jobs. I do. The fact that they are all part time elicits a passion that I was unable to attain when working 70 hours a week in a restaurant. But, I have to recognize my own limitations. And, that this can only be temporary. It's a realization that this is why we don't live beyond our means...this is reason to live beneath what we can afford. Because the insurmountable living expenses, life events, and people that need us...hold us hostage and create a cycle of do more, work more, live less, lose more of ourselves. 

And...I would like to see more of myself. 

Moving On...

GOD(---and I use that term lovingly and in conversation to the one being that needs not read my blog to hear me); life has been hard. I don't say that simply because my life has been difficult. It has. But, it's not really about that. It's more about being stuck...or not. It's more about the letting go of things. I don't really mean "things" like in hoarding of books, memorabilia, even shoes (I've gotten to a place that I can even let go of those)...I mean the real stuff, the stuff that we carry day in and day out. The hurt and the pain. The stuff that glues us to thinking we are worthless and undeserving. That's the part we need to let go of. It's the part that makes us hurt ourselves, others, and have panic attacks in the closet. It's the part that no one sees and yet is the most damaging.

Look, I'm not saying that I won't have an argument with my bf or old friend. I am saying however...if you damage me and I am unable to move on with you in my life. If that damage is too deep, too typical, too "insert word" for us to move on with each other...I am finally at a place where I can let go of you and where we were, where we might have went, and the pain that we caused each other.

I am letting go of arrogance. Some of it will stick. I know. Part of that is mine and so interwoven with my fabric...letting go would mean losing the real, inner, inner, inner parts of myself. And, that's not the goal. But, I am letting go of the part that makes me think that I can "fix" you, the part of me that thinks if I am your friend, lover, sister...somehow, I can plug that hole of emptiness for you. The part that deeply believes...I can carry the weight of the world. I cannot. So, I am moving on...carrying what I can, my luggage first. If I have room, and your stuff won't fall on me, suffocate me, drown me...I will help you. But, you have to ask...you have to want my help. I'm sorry that I have given what was neither desired nor requested.

Please don't take this as me leaving you or giving up on our friendship. But, if you haven't called, if I only know you are sick or struggling via Facebook, if you had a baby (and I called you) and I reached out, if we are not real...mutually real...I am letting go of you...maybe just for now...until it can be what it is meant to be.

Peace,
M

There's never enough time...

It hits me like a brick today....My son is 17 and graduating in May. Did you hear me? May.

First of all, I am far too young to have a kid graduating from High School. I have tattoos and get my hair colored. I read current events. I don't watch the weather channel. I keep up on music and watch awards shows. I AM NOT OLD ENOUGH FOR THIS.

But, it was seriously yesterday that he was speaking his first word. There are conflicting stories as to what it was. I swear it was "cookie". A certain grandmother vehemently swears it was "girl". I was barely twenty when he was born. Now, I'm nearing forty. Shit...I'm so old. I mean for real old...My twenty-year-old self wouldn't recognize me. "B" has grown up. He's lost teeth, learned many words (some I don't like him to say), grown about 1000 times his height, created, learned, stumbled, climbed...he's more of a man than my little boy. When I was 20...40 seemed so far away. But, now that I'm almost 40...20 seems like yesterday.

Today, I'm reading the details of college applications instead of Winnie the Pooh or Blue's Clues books. There isn't enough time. Today, I'm checking grades, curfew, his work schedule...instead of giggling and playing. There isn't time for that. Today, we go to orthodontists, counseling appointments, and the DMV...at 20 it was Happy Meals and play-dates...for both of us. Now, it's jobs (for both of us too) and school (x2)...there isn't enough time for books, movies, play dates, or Happy Meals.

I miss him already...soon he will be living his own life. But, tonight there is time to tell him I love him, I'm so very proud of him, and there is only the time we have right now...this moment.

Permission to complain...

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. More times than not, it's an excuse for me to avoid a task, a phone call, making dinner, writing a blog...But, yesterday was different. Often times, I play stupid games, get irritated with friends for posting pictures of their cute babies and vacation homes...But, yesterday was different. Most days, life gets in the way of my soulful exploration. Alas, yesterday was different. 

You see, I read Anne Lamott's status and blog posts fairly frequently. But, yesterday...I had already decided that I was nearly incapable of doing anything for anyone, other than myself. Yesterday, like most days...I was tired of tracking people down, reminding myself to remind others, calling, sitting, waiting, doing for everyone and being mad at them for not noticing me and the needs that I so clearly had. So, you can imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon her status update. One which, so clearly echoed my own. She gave me permission to complain...to bitch about the nonsense that has become my daily life. I didn't have to have cancer, a child on the brink of death, or be an addict looking for her next high. Anne gave me permission to complain about life and the little things that make us go over the edge of reason...You know, the space where crazy ceases to "leak" out of the bottle and becomes the "crazy train of batshit" that we all know so well. We all seem to hold it together when family members are in peril, friends call us at wits end at 3:00 A.M., or our colicky babies have cried for six solid hours. It's when someone spills coffee on us, cuts us off in traffic, or merely doesn't respond to us the way we want...no, NEED them to. That is when crazy pours out of us like rushing rivers of rage. And, we laugh at ourselves and the mess we've made of things...over something silly, simple, and inadvertent. 

Yesterday Anne gave me permission to complain. She said "So for today, 1) feel free to mewl and puke and spew here about how the last few days have been a nightmare or how much your feet hurt a lot of the time, even though you know that amputees do have it much worse, or how much you hate hate hate your current weight, or what an absolute asshat your son has been lately, or how scary you just find all of life on earth some days, and how you can't get your Internet working and have been on the line with snotty tech support for so long that you may have had a nervous breakdown. will read every single post, and believe complainy-spoiled-overly-sensitive old me, I will GET it. 

2). Baby yourself, all day. Radical self care, naps and lotion on the Auntie thighs and maybe too many scrambled eggs and also a basket of raspberries that possibly could feed a family of three for the day, and the new issue of People, or the new Mary Oliver collection.

Okay? Start your engines. I want to hear some nice juicy complaints: for instance, I was on planes and at airports and in cars for 22 of the last 36 hours, a flight got delayed and i missed a connection and I was trapped at the Newark airport forever, and was completely bitter and enraged, even though I got paid for my lecture in Richmond and sold lots of books, and got to be a writer when I grew up.

SEE? 

You can do it. I'll be right here." 

So, here goes it...

Dear Anne, 

Thank you so much for saying/writing what I needed to hear today. I'm tired. I'm so tired that I'm uncertain whether or not I can even write this. But, I am nothing if not persistent. And, I rarely quit even when I should. 

I want to start by saying how blessed I am. However, I promise this will not be about the rationalization of my blessings/tribulations. I am a mother of two. My youngest is a beautiful 13 year old ballerina who dances 5-6 days a week. My work, church, and social life revolves around either taking her to and fro, or making arrangements for someone else to take her to and from the studio. And, though she is truly a dancer...it is who she is...the endless performances and decisions of well intended artistic directors/choreographers inevitably break her heart and thus mine. 

My oldest is 17. And, he is on the Autism Spectrum. He is bring, funny, and hard-working...when he chooses such. School has been a struggle since kindergarten. In fact, I am applying to graduate programs and have spent more time at his high school than working on my own applications, coursework, reading, and writing. He refuses to play the "game" of showing his work or turning things in on time. He is an aspiring chef and attends a culinary arts program. Though, around this house...he rarely cooks and complains of any requests made of him to do so. 

Did I mention that I am tired?

Hey, by the way...I sort of met you last April. I go to a church in KC where you spoke and did a book reading. I date a minister and he brought me back to the room that you were waiting in...we refer to it as the library. I'm unsure if you remember...but, it's funny...because there are so few books in the space. Not the point, sorry. But, you see...I had this fantasy. We were going to talk about the connection I have to your writing. I was a single mother in the late nineties and someone gave me "Operating Instructions". I read the book and just knew we would be friends. As I sobbed with my two year old on the bathroom floor, I knew that you would be able to provide some sort of direction. So...the BF brought me back to the "library" and you were chatting with the Rev. Hill and his wife...not so much as an introduction. I stared at you in awe and wondered how this moment was passing so quickly right before my eyes...didn't you know how much I wanted to meet you? We were supposed to go share a french press and dessert at "Classic Cup". Did you forget? You know I'm kidding right? 

Then there's this happiness stuff. I'm not sure that I even know what to do with it. I've been in and out of abusive relationships my entire life. I was a child of abuse...even my own mother couldn't figure out how to truly love us. So, how...how could I require that of anyone else? But, I'm not there anymore. For some reason though, I kind of miss her...because I was her for so long. I rarely recognize this mostly healthy, mostly adjusted, mostly sane and self-loving being that looks back at me.  I'm in a (mostly) healthy relationship, I've been accepted to three MDiv programs...one of which is at an aspirational school that I would have never thought possible. But, it's so much work. We are training for a marathon...and the dreaded "long run" is today. It's symbolic really...mostly I feel like my whole life is a marathon...you get over one hill just so you can start climbing the next. 

Anyway, thanks for permission to take care of me. I shouldn't need it. I know. But, God...I still do. Thanks for reminding me...today, I'm going to take a long bath (it's mid-afternoon), eat ice-cream, sit in my fuzzy socks and bathrobe until I have to go pick up the ballerina. There's more time...the long run can happen tomorrow. But, for now...I'm the emergency...I need watering. 

Peace and Amen, 

Monica

So...pass it on...are your socks wet? Complain. Did the dog get out? Did you get a "B" instead of an "A", miss a stoplight, get a ticket, your soda doesn't have enough ice, too much? Freely let go and take care of yourself even if just for a moment...eat something sinful, have a martini, skip the decaf...we are in this together...But, put your Oxygen mask on first...because most of us don't and the person next to you is probably holding on by a thread just like you...

Breathing through change...

I'm probably not the most patient person. That is in fact an understatement. I am a planner, a writer, a creator, mover, and a do-er...I am results driven and am nearly always looking at the "next step".

So, what does one do when she has no control of the process? Well, she/me...pushes forward as far as she can and breathes through the rest. I am waiting (and in as much as I can...refraining from the debilitating anxiety that wrecks me) for news on jobs, graduate programs, relationship plans, kiddo number one is to graduate...

I must literally look myself in the mirror and say..."I've done my best"...the rest is in YOUR hands...and by Your hands...I don't mean the reflection, me. The reflection is just a reminder that I'm letting go...it's accountability. Because, as I see it...no one will do that for me, except me of course.

The last twelve months have been an exercise in trust. I've had to trust my gut/my God. And, sonofa...it's (the gut part) been wrong a couple of times. Perhaps, maybe I just misunderstood. But, more often than not, the results have been grand and I've met people, experienced things, lived more truthfully than I have in...perhaps ever.

So, this still sucks...the waiting. But, I'm trying. Please don't forget about me. I know that I have lessons to learn and this is just one of the many. I long to know...but, maybe knowing you are with me is enough for now. I'm just going to "reach out to you with my own two hands"...because that's all I have to give today.

Amen
P.S. I would appreciate a little help with these blisters...it will help in the training process...literally and figuratively

Writing and Relationships

Here's the deal...I'm going to write. I think that nearly above all else...writing is what centers me and blogging in the most global sense of things, it's what allows me to connect my experiences and insights (right or wrong) with the rest of the world. I know that some days (many) my posts border (if not sit entirely) on insanity. I know that reason and logic, my rationale for things, the observations I might have...those viewpoints are not right or wrong...But, are simply mine.

The issue with being my friend or dating me inherently means, our interactions will more than likely appear somewhere on this blog. I also come into this with the understanding that while it might sound fun to be the hero/heroine in a book, story, poem, blog even...it's no fun to be the villain. And, writing (for me) is an extension of me and my personal life experience. So, in order to respect you and any relationship that we might have...there is a need for vagueness of details, names, locations, specifics...that will always be necessary in any published writing that I might undertake.

I also ask you (those that just read this nonsense of mine, casually or intentionally) to understand the inherent bias that exists in this space. When I write, you get the entirety of my emotion. You get to share in my joys and my frustrations and it may not be entirely balanced...in fact...it may not even be true. Because, you only get my version...the truth as I experienced it.

M

Still just a girl...

So, today I am going to post about something entirely trivial. However, this seemingly trivial, tiny, insignificant object has made my week.

So, there's this vintage dress shop, Donna's Dress Shop on 39th street in KCMO. I LOVE this store. The girls that work there wear vintage dresses, rompers, saddle shoes...and sometimes sport horn-rimmed glasses and bee-hives. It's like stepping back in time. I can't pull that off. And, I don't ever want my vintage clothes to seem costume-y...So, I mix it up a bit. Plus, I am nearing a certain age and I don't want to look like I am trying too hard.

So, last week my daughter and I were killing time between appointments and we stopped in. Miss J has an eccentric taste as well. She had never been there before and immediately fell in love with patterned tights, vintage shoes, and a polyester jump-suit only a dancer could wear. I am always short on funds. So, I started by perusing only the sale rack. I purchased a fantastic, aspirational, floor-length, open-back gown...for get this $18.00.

I had no intention of looking at regular priced items. We are on a budget and my son needs a car, stat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a navy dress. It was silk and kind of "Mad Men" inspired. By that I mean, Joan would wear it and rock it. For those that know, I'm a curvy red-head. So things don't always fit me off the rack, especially vintage. So, I had no expectations of this particular dress fitting. But, the lovelies at Donna's convinced me to try it on. I tried it on and it slid on. It wasn't too big, too small, it was like someone made this dress for me.

I didn't buy it. I decided to put in hold. And, I thought about this dress...this perfect, meant for me dress day and night for the next three days. I couldn't stop obsessing over it. It's silly, really. It's just a dress right? But, it isn't just a dress. That dress made me feel like a super-model. I felt taller, skinnier, more capable to take on the world...in that dress.

So, we went back on Sunday. Donna happened to be having a sale that day. It's a tiny little shop. Did I mention they were having a sale? It's like every hip chick in the Kansas City Metro area decided they too needed to be there.

I inquired about "My Dress" and the cutest flowered salesperson ever helped me to locate it. I didn't try it on again. In fact, someone else event bought the dress for me...this perfect, meant for me dress. This morning, I had some extra time. So, I tried on my dress. I even put on a cute, green, vintage hat (thanks again ladies) with it. This dress didn't make me into someone else. It wasn't like playing dress-up, covering a scar, or wearing spanx. Putting on this dress simply allowed me to be the best version of myself. And, at the end of the day...I'm still just a girl, looking for the best version of myself.

Thanks for reading,
M

How do you know?

As I sit in my office taking a much needed "mental health break", I remind myself that blogging isn't much of a break. And, more importantly...I promise myself that I will go do something mindless with myself, the moment I post this. Don't roll your eyes at me! Really. In fact, I am going to take a walk. It's daylight here in the P&L and far safer to do so than 5:00 A.M. When I get off work some nights.

Anyway, the question/questions today is/are...How does one stay balanced? How do we know when to walk away? When is the appropriate response, "Ain't NOBODY got time for that?"

I don't know. I think we focus on what and who we love. And, while things and people aren't a "zero sum" operation...there has to be some give and take. For example, I worked my tail off last week. I worked on some youth ministry items, I worked on some new training policies, did a bit of parenting, had a minor procedure, worked some late nights here at the venue...Saturday rolled around and I was exhausted with a migraine. Unfortunately, I was unable to work. They took it in stride and covered for me. It's not about keeping score. It is about feeling valued, trusted, and respected. No one said, "Are you sure you are sick? Are you sure you can't come in? Did you work enough hours?" No, they knew the truth of the situation.

The same is true when asking for help. We all have those people in our lives. You know the ones, the ones that always offer to assist. "If you ever need anything, just call." So, you do. You call and then eventually are criticized for not being sufficient, prepared, creative, strong, capable, or enough. What does one do in that situation? Well, I say be a mirror to the situation. Confirm that though you are capable, wise, and strong...you are in fact NOT superhuman. That you want the best for the situation and if that means stepping aside or asking for help....you are simply not above that. This isn't about egos or feeling threatened...it's simply about doing right for and by one another.

I don't believe in fighting. In fact, contrary to what one might think...I am utterly opposed to it. But, when we let others define us and determine our worth...we lose part of our individual integrity. God has BIG plans for us. And, advocating for oneself is necessary if not imperative.

I don't know "How we know...". I don't claim to have all of the answers. However, I do claim to leave room for the voice of God and others. There is a space between us all that we tend to muddy. There is a space between us that when pure, can change the world.

What I should have said...

Sharing some thoughts here...

I was blessed to attend the retirement/birthday party of my favorite teacher. Fred was my debate coach. But, in the years that have passed he has become so much more to me. Yesterday someone asked, "What's the biggest thing Fred taught you?" I didn't have an answer at the time. But, after many speeches (perhaps even loving roasts), the answer was clear. Fred taught me so many things. He taught me how to see a perspective other than my own...and argue it well enough to not only convince others that it was my belief...but, also to convince myself. He taught me that most truth lies in the middle and there is rarely a right or wrong answer. He recently taught me how to place a bet on a race. He taught me to believe the best in people, myself included. He taught me to try harder...even when I was doing great things. He taught me about family and friendship. 

Perhaps the biggest lesson I received in my twenty years of knowing Fred, is the importance of honesty, being genuine, and having integrity. He taught me that some the smartest people I know...drink beer, bet on horses, wear stained t-shirts and curse like sailors. People are far deeper than our initial impressions of them. Scholars can live in mansions or trailer parks. Education takes many forms as does racism. Fred makes no apologies for who he is. He owns it all. And, he in turn accepts others for how they come to the table. 

Looking at a table of either recent graduates or current proteges of Fred's, it looked exactly like one would expect (if you know him). There were five young people sitting at a table. See the description of individuals below:

             

           1-Tiny, rockabilly, blond, female with patterned skirt and Buddy Holly Glasses 

           2-Short, conservatively dressed, Asian, female, with long dark hair

           3-Tall, skinny, white, male with glasses, wearing a graphic t-shirt

           4-Tall, thin, male, of Middle Eastern descent, wearing a short sleeve sport shirt
                      (not in an ironic way)

           5-Tall, large framed, male, dressed in shorts and sporting some messy hair 

That table is what it's all about. The experiences they shared and the relationships they built, would not have been possible if not for their teacher. On the surface, they all look so different. They aren't. They are all trying to find their way and create their own individual identities. That table was as diverse and homogeneous, individual and collective, creative and organized, the same and different...there is no black and white. That table was everything and it's opposite...It was a reminder that labels only tell half the story.

http://nsdupdate.com/2013/fred-robertson-is-the-ndca-educator-of-the-year/ 

Father's Day

Thank God for this church. 

I mean, seriously. For those that remember my Mother's Day blog...this holiday (Father's Day) remains tied for most disliked. It does help that there is no person/individual to direct my emotion and complete lack of understanding toward. So, the disdain is a bit of a fog versus a clear and direct storm.

Yesterday was Father's Day. It culminated after Project Premier. Sound familiar to my Mother's Day weekend? Yeah. There must be some sort of lesson and I promise...I'm looking for it. But, here we are again. My youngest was already traveling with her father to places of adventure for the summer. I wake up prepping for this longing moment. If you want to support me next year...just refrain from putting a picture of you and your fantastic father on Facebook. I'm kidding. Mostly, I'm happy for you. But, part of me is pissed. How can I continue to long for something that I clearly don't understand. But, I do. I get it. Someone showed me a picture of a pastor-friend with his redheaded cherub girls in matching dresses and...I sighed. It was a sigh of both knowing and not knowing. When you posted a picture of your dad hugging you at graduation, I had the same emotion.

Back to my original statement...at church and actually, now that I think about it...all this week,  I've been reassured that it's ok. It's ok that I don't have that. I'm ok and significant and chosen. (You are too. Keep in mind, these aren't mutually exclusive statements...we are all special, significant, and chosen)  The Rev. Dr. Raphael Warnock spoke at the More2 banquet Thursday. He spoke of the slave girl in Acts. And, eventually she knows "who she is and whose she is". Amen and Amen. Don't some of us struggle our whole life with that? Parents who don't want us, partners who don't see us, people who want nothing to do with us...but, don't want us to be who we are meant to be? And, at church yesterday the Rev. Dr. Hill preached a sermon on the movie "Up". That was fantastic. The lesson of love and understanding. The correlative scripture from Romans 14:7-8 in part "whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's" helped to assure my heart that what I am missing is less important than who's in my corner.

Moreover, the entire service had this thread...of welcome, love and forgiveness. From prayers to special music, we were affirmed in our love by God and from God. Finally, it culminated with the closing hymn of "Precious Lord Take My Hand". Yes please. Because it was heavy and I needed a hand to hold. I've been told that I don't show the sensitive side of myself...I would assert that I do. I am vulnerable in this space.

So, enjoy your fathers and children. I am glad that you have them and they have you. I'm going to enjoy what I do have and still continue to grieve the loss of something I don't truly understand.

Thank you once again for sharing this space and my journey with me.

Making Peace with Mother's Day

Every year Mother's Day hits me like a freight train. It's expected and consistently painful. I grieve the mother I should have had and the mother I could have been with the right guidance. I send a card to my grandmother in the same routine way. I know she needs to know how much I love her and that I know she did her best.

Last week the sermon at church was about the "Trinity" and specifically the "Father" part. It's funny, because I really thought that it was going to talk about traits and similarities between "earthly" and "heavenly" fathers. Yeah. But, no...The sermon utilized the 1960 book "Are You My Mother?" by Dr. Seuss. I listened intently as the story of a wonderful minister unfolded. He spoke of his absent father and his "sainted" mother who filled in the gaps. I choked back the tears as my daughter looked at me and flatly said..."That must suck." She knows I hate that word. But, later as we were cooking...we had a heart to heart. She asked how it made me feel to hear wonderful stories of loving parents. She knows how wonderful my grandparents were to me growing up. But, she knows that they didn't really have an impact until I was ten.

And, to answer her question...It so sucks. I don't understand that kind of love. I can give it...I think. But, then there are days that I wonder. Am I really capable of loving unconditionally? If I have never experienced that kind of love, how will I know that I am giving it to my children? I guess I just know. I have faith in myself. I mother people that don't ask for it. I make sure they go to the doctor when they are sick. I remind them to take their vitamins. I feed people. So...maybe what I didn't experience is exactly what allows me to give it to others.

This year Mother's Day shares the weekend of AYB's Spring Ballet. Which means, my daughter is spending the weekend with her daddy and his family. I am so happy for her. It is the first time her grandmother is going to see her dance. The costumes are new and her "Big Sister" is giving her final company performance in the fantastic role of "Firebird".

There are no plans for breakfast in bed, flowers, or even sitting next to my kiddos in church. My son will be working at the restaurant. He's a great server and he makes me so proud. Being his manager is so much easier than being a mother.

But, I will miss them. I know that this Sunday is really no different than any other Sunday. I am blessed beyond belief to wake up everyday and have my family right in front of me. I am blessed to have children that aren't afraid to tell me what they think of me. I am blessed to watch them grow and learn. I am blessed to see them make mistakes and poor choices, despite my advice. I know they can't appreciate how much I love them. I am so glad that they are able to take that for granted. Because, I know that one day they will be grown. They will have their own children to love. And, they will know that they were wanted, loved, and I picked them.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

Songs of Faith

Recently, the church I attend had a sermon series that focussed on songs of faith. I'd like to address a couple of  songs that have impacted my spiritual journey. I grew up in the church. I can sing nearly every traditional hymn by heart without aid of hymnal or screen. I understand that many of my peers cannot. For me, church was a refuge, home away from home, and a space that challenged me to hear and feel not only my personal pain...But, the pain of others. 

I could spend time addressing those first few hymns that I have listed. I could. But, I want to address something far more important. Songs speak to us. Some songs like "Hallelujah" (thank you Amy...ish for bestowing this recognition of brokenness), bring us to our knees. For me, this song reminds me of my own brokenness after a failed marriage, massive depression, and moment of complete desperation. But, it also reminds me of how much I was loved...when, I was incapable of loving myself and probably the most unloveable. Yes, God loved me in the metaphysical sense and I had moments of the reassurance from that voice inside of me. But, it was through the distance of my friend gifting me this song, the countless friends who stopped by to make sure I had showered, the love and forgiveness that those who loved me in this world expressed; that's where my faith in God and in myself was revealed. 

One has to have context when looking at their own faith story. The tattoo thing comes up for me again and again. For me, beauty and pain aren't so far removed. For me...I can't forget the violence, abuse, trauma, and pain of my own childhood. However, I can do my best to accept what happened and love through that space. For me, art/beauty/loveliness has come at a price. Recovery from anything is a daily struggle. I am not an alcoholic...though, I would suggest that my addiction is just as harmful. For years, I would seek out people that would hurt me. They made it very clear. I talked a big game...But, what we think we deserve; is what we pursue. For me, the ink is a daily reminder of my resolve to do right by God...by doing right by me first. 

I think my love of vintage clothes and furniture is also a reflection. Worn, weary, damaged goods have value. I think by acknowledging that simple concept; I am able to acknowledge that I too (worn, weary, damaged, unloved at times) have inherent and intrinsic value. 

This is a blog...not a book. So, I can't exactly go into each and every song that has brought me comfort in my journey a long the way. Below, I have listed a few though. I'd love to discuss my reasons for each as well as hear your faith stories discussions of personal song selections. 

I know that many of you who read this might not adore Sarah McLachlan (understatement)...But, this is my mantra and I borrow it nearly every day and pray to and for myself...and you...

"And don't you know that why
Is simply not good enough,
Oh, so just let me try
And I will be good to you
Just let me try
And I will be there for you,
I'll show you why
You're so much more than good enough" Good Enough, Sarah McLachlan Fumbling Towards Ecstasy 1994

Until next time...Peace...M

Songs of My Faith
"Wade in the Water"
"Amazing Grace"
"How Great Thou Art"
"It Is Well With My Soul"
The Smith's "How Soon Is Now"
Toad the Wet Sprocket "Brother"
Tracy Chapman "Behind the Wall"
Natalie Merchant "Trouble Me"Tracy Chapman "Mountains of Things"
Genesis "Jesus He Knows Me"
Jeff Buckley's version "Hallelujah"Depeche Mode "Personal Jesus"
Donna Summer "I believe in Jesus"
George Harrison "My Sweet Lord"
Dishwalla "Counting Blue Cars"
Joan Osborn "One of Us"
Daughtry "Outta My Head"Jars of Clay "Flood"
U2 "Gloria"
Sara McLachlan "Sweet Surrender"Cat Stevens "Morning Has Broken"
Creed "My Own Prison"

Tattoos

So, I was asked the other day (again) about my tattoos. I think the question was something about what my reason for getting them is...I don't recall the exact question. But, it was a good conversation. I think it made sense and I think we came to an interesting place about each other.

First, I want to voice an opinion. I believe that if you have to ask my opinion on whether or not you should get a permanent piece of artwork on your body, the answer is easy. Not only no...But, hella no. If you have to ask me what you should get...the answer is simple...NOTHING!

Tattoos and body art are incredibly personal. I don't subscribe to the trendiness of it. I also don't have a problem with your lack of tattoos. If you find it necessary to be some "hip" version of yourself...awesome. I just don't think that it should be something permanent and socially pressured.

For me, tattoos are a way to make the pain and sadness of life beautiful. (I have one crappy piece that needs love and a cover-up. But, let's make that the exception...not the rule.) Shitty things happen to us. And, somehow we manage to get to the other side. We are naked and abused. We go hungry. We thirst for love and walk through this life carrying a pretty heavy load. For me, nothing beautiful has happened without pain or suffering preempting it.

The weather is beautiful today. I mean it's perfect. The sun in shining, it's in the 70's. There is a slight breeze and you can smell the scents of cut grass and someone must be barbecuing. But, it has been cold and rainy for what feels like an eternity. The memory of the dark and gloomy weather almost makes today more perfect. It provides a context and a perspective.

So, if you look at the blossoms on my arm or the butterflies on my feet...remember that they are a reminder. They remind me of the pain and loss. But, they also remind me that there are days like today. They remind me that in an moment, an hour, a week...this pain, irritation, frustration, etc. will be replaced with a rainbow, a butterfly, snuggle, resurrection, or giggle.

God's Sense of Humor

It's been a harsh couple of weeks. Truly, I have determined that God must have a sense of humor. He (or if you believe she) has been witness to some awesomely inspiring and equally devastatingly tragic moments as well. But, here's the deal: I have no control. You can call me at three in the morning...I can't pray your tragedy away. I can't heal your pain. My heart will break with yours and there is nothing I can do about it. But, I will love you through your pain. I will cry with you. I will shed tears of pain and suffering. However...wait for it...I will shout screams of joy and high five you from unimaginable distances when anything merits even the slightest celebration. I will bring you chocolate (or lemon bars) when you need cheering up. I will sing "Soft Kitty" or "Please Don't Go" just because you will laugh. I will share my cupcakes or adult beverage with you whether it is because we are celebrating your new ----------(job, car, birthday, or "whew, you dodged a bullet moment), or that you need a simple distraction from whatever pain, hurt, anger, insert unfair nonsense moment.

I will get mad with you. When God says "Psych"...what you thought was good, really, really, really...in fact, you do not. Your health...oops, my bad. Your job? Hey, they are going to eliminate your position. That school you wanted to get into...they aren't that into you. But, I will also breathe a sigh of relief with you when you find out that what you thought was tragic and terminal (literally or figuratively) isn't. I will jump up and down when we are broke and find some vintage, can't live without, piece of something or other for 99 cents at the "Thrift Shop". I will celebrate your accidental pregnancy when you can't. Because, I was "gifted" with many accidental blessings. I will love you amidst your awesome mistakes. I will see how cool your new "choices" are in this "Choose Your Own Adventure" book of life that we are living.

But...God...Hey are your listening (God that is)? It's hard. It's hard to feel. It's so heavy. It's so difficult to really "feel" the struggles of others. In fact, joy is sometimes as arduous. I mean with so much pain and suffering...How does one celebrate? How do we celebrate a bite of heaven, a sip of Pepsi in a sea of Southern Coke, a new pair of shoes, a compliment, a good morning with the kids...how do we celebrate these "little" nothing of moments when there is hunger, injustice, death, destruction, backaches, racism, and broken hearts? We do it because without those tiny..."Hey, that construction worker winked at me" moments...the pain would be to much. Our "to do", "fix the world" list would be far too daunting. So...those joy filled moments allow us to breathe and gather our wits. That giggle...or laugh until the tears come moment, pokes just enough holes in the dark for us to just "keep swimming". 

So, I will trust God to know when I have had enough. I will trust him (or her) to inspire me with a silly joke that my friend needs or a song that will make him laugh. I will trust that God will say..."OK, it's not that bad...I was kidding. Your mom's O.K. I know your cup is full."

I will also point out that I don't think the joke is funny!!! Maybe I will get it next time. But, today...not funny and I am pissed.

Still writing...

Ok, so maybe I've changed my mind about this blog. It keeps calling me back. Maybe it's my "Egypt". It's unfinished. But, won't it always be? Aren't we all? Unfinished that is...

Anyway, it's been a rough couple of weeks. I took a "time out" from Facebook. One would have thought it was crack. Because, I had impulses, withdrawals, and persistent compulsive thoughts about checking/not checking it. But, it was good timing. I missed much of the ignorant arguments about race, gender, marriage, rape...I didn't miss them per se. But, I was unaware for the most part. And, that was an incredibly blissful gift.

I had another medical procedure. Let me say...taking care of myself is time consuming. But, I'm pretty confident that the value overrides my irritation. But, having a procedure during a busy work-week, amidst civic obligations was pretty frustrating. If you are feeling charitable...please support my friend Liz and I and donate to our Heartwalk team.

http://heartwalk.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1033009&supId=379109754&msource=CHIODOFB

My son and I catered a wonderful dinner for our congregation. It was a pseudo-Seder-Passover-Lent-Tenebrae-Ish service. We had a wonderful friend come help for service. But, all the food cooking, menu, prepping was done via the two of us. I mean seriously? My son (16 btw) and I cooked for 120 people. And, we didn't kill each other or come to major blows. How cool is that? If that doesn't reinforce faith in God and that anything is possible, what will? I am blessed and proud of us both. But, I am so very proud of my kiddo. He was professional and calm, exhibited and incredible work ethic, and created a wonderful meal.

I might be writing today more for myself, than for it to be read. Thanks for reading though...and it's still a blessing and a gift. I suppose today, I'm more just praying. I'm so very thankful for this life. I'm thankful for the gifts and the struggles. I feel God's presence in a way that is undeniable. God gives us courage to do what's scary. That voice that tells us to stand up for what is right, when the potential for loss is great...some of us call it our "gut" or intuition. I simply say thanks. Thank you God for my voice. Thank you God for allowing me to stand up for a business decision or a friend who has no one to stand up for him/her. But, moreover...Thank you for giving me the courage to stand up for myself. Thank you for allowing me to see that when I choose myself...it's not me diminishing the rights of others. But, allowing your light and grace to shine through me. The emotions and traumas of others deserve respect and dignity. But, they should not dictate our emotions or actions. Nor should they be validation for abusive behavior.

“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. 
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. 
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.” 
― Mother Teresa

I read this quote every morning. It feeds me. Mother Theresa reminds me that though I am a BIG personality, rough around the edges, as a friend says "A straight shooter"...I am obligated to love, do what is right, good, fair, and kind in regards to others...But, I am also obligated to do what is right, good, fair, and kind in regards to myself.


Also...it is National Autism Awareness Month...

Having a son on the spectrum this issue is close to my heart.

Light it Blue!

For more information visit:

http://www.autismspeaks.org/

Peace,
M

It's a choice...

Hey there...This is it. I think this particular blog has served it's purpose. I am going to write for a bit today on something that I think is really important. I am going to continue writing. But, for me...this account has to have some closure.

That being said...I've come to some realizations in my own life.

1-I need to be more patient with people. I need to understand that when individuals get angry and lash out, they aren't necessarily angry or lashing out at me. Sometimes, they might also feel powerless to help and that feeling of powerlessness can come out in various ways. I had a pretty rough conversation with someone I love. And, I know they love me. But, I felt criticized. I had worked my tail off to make something happen. In fact, I had put out a pretty significant fire. I probably wasn't in the best place for a "you don't realize how you can come off" lecture. (And, I do. I realize that I can be a major b****. I realize that the business of doing sometimes gets in the way of relationships and people) But, I came unglued when I was listening to my friend attempt to enlighten me. I cried. But, I didn't ask for what I needed either. I didn't set up boundaries and say..."Hey, I'm a little raw right now...can you just be my friend?" I expected. I assumed that my friend knew my cup was pretty full. Mental note. See? I can accept my deficiencies.

2-It's not always about me. In fact, people's reactions are rarely personal. You know that I think anger is a secondary emotion. When you are the target though, it's difficult to detach and be reasonable. Last week we ran out of blueberries at work. I mean seriously? Yes, blueberries. My boss did a pretty good job in reminding me of the insignificance of my phone call. Once I took a deep breath, I realized it wasn't about the blueberries. Thank God. I'd definitely need some further medication if it had been all about the blueberries. It was really about feeling overwhelmed. I'd held it together through a blizzard, an event, being short staffed, parenting, and church obligations. Those blueberries just pushed me over the edge. For me, those blueberries are a mental note to myself. So, if you call me freaking out because you lost your keys or can't find a post it note, I will listen. Because, "It's about more than blueberries."

3-Triage. You know that I don't define family in a traditional sense. If you are my friend, my co-worker, my colleague...inevitably you become part of my family. I love you. And, in that sense who gets what from me ends up being like triage. The biggest need gets the biggest chunk of my time, effort, money etc. It works for me. I know not everyone works that way and obligations have a different sort of categorized structure. But for me, it's not how we are related...But, who needs the attention most.

See you soon...peace and blessings,
M

"Tell me again that Jesus loves me"

So, I am reading this book as research on faculty writings at a specific graduate school. The book is titled, "Performance in Preaching (Engaging Worship): Bringing the Sermon to Life." Obviously, the book is about preaching and worship styles. However, I can't stop thinking about the phrase of a kindergartner who climbed into her grandfather's lap and simply said,"Tell me again that Jesus loves me. I keep forgetting."

Isn't it that simple? Don't we all forget sometimes? Moreover, aren't the struggles that we experience almost always inherently tied to the despair and lack of perceived love?

Two pastors that I respect asked very similar questions of me. They asked simply, "Why?" Why haven't I pursued ministry, higher education, larger goals? The answer was very simple. I never felt worthy. You see, when your own mother allows you to be abused, mistreated, treated with disrespect and injustice...how could anyone else love you? Somewhere in my childish mind, I remember feeling that I must just be bad. So, you take that with you. You allow others to mistreat you. Honestly, you mistreat others a long the way as well. Because if your own mother doesn't love you...you must just "be" bad.

But, it doesn't work that way. My mother was/is incapable of loving herself. So, in that...the expectation that she could possibly love my brother, sister, and I...Well, that's pretty impossible. The injustices of humanity are separate from God's love. That voice I hear that says I am capable, I am kind, I am fearless, I can do anything, I am reasonable in the face of anger...that's God's love. It doesn't come from my childhood. It doesn't come from past relationships. It comes from both within and without. It's inherent. It's like when Dr. Bob Hill says, "God loves you. And, there's nothing you can do about it." Fantastic! I mean really? It's like we've won the lottery. I'm flawed and mean sometimes and God still loves me. I can be alone and not lonely. I can be in the dark...and find this pinpoint of light that provides hope. That's God's love.

So, back to the title...maybe our obligation (I know some of you don't like this word) as Christians or even just fellow humans is simply to remind others that they are loved. Maybe, it's that simple. One can't always say "God loves you." I know some of my fundamental friend are shouting/arguing at/with me as you read this. But, it has to be what the person can hear. Sometimes, those words are too much, too profound, too unbelievable. Maybe showing God's love is the reminder. Maybe offering grace to those who are difficult to love, setting boundaries, sharing a meal, might be all it takes.

I think we all keep forgetting. We forget how very much we are loved. In our denomination, it's about all being welcome at the table. I think that's huge. But, I am a parent. I also grew up Baptist. Those two things combined give me a sense of what salvation means and how God was able to demonstrate just how deeply the world was/is loved by allowing Jesus to walk with us.

So, remind someone. Maybe your wife or significant other. But, maybe not. How about the lady who gives you the "stink eye" in the car pool lane? She might need it more than you know today.

We don't travel this world alone...

I lead a pretty hectic schedule. I know. Duh, right? My life is so full. But, there’s always room for a friend to call, an essay to write, a sleep-over, car-pooling friends home from a Bat Mitvah, an extra sermon, helping the kids with homework, or a snuggle. There’s always room for the things that fulfill. There isn’t space so much for the nonsense anymore. 

The past weekend was scheduled to the hour. My boss was out of town. So, I worked some pretty insane hours. But, Sunday was the day. Sunday, I wrote a very lengthy note to someone. Secretly, I think I was also writing it to myself. My daughter and I ran some errands. Then, we snuggled in to our seats for a very nice church service. She and I had lunch together and saw my son. I leisurely got ready for our MLK Interfaith Service at church. I volunteered. And the next two hours were a rush of inspiration, gripping music, love, sister/brotherhood, intellect, passion, and friendship. Toward the end the evening, I was invited out to dinner. And, I received the blessing of listening to Rev. Dr. Warnock, Rev. Dr. Robert Lee Hill, and Rev. Thrasher speak politics, religion, dogma, logistics, and so much more. 

I was a part of the conversation. Sure. But, it was more than that. It was that time just stood still and the entire day seemed like this big drink of spiritual water. Man! I was thirsty. Funny thing about how we forget. We forget how hungry we are for knowledge and spirituality. We do things that enlighten and lift us. But, we don’t know what we are missing until it’s right there...passionately, honestly, loving our spirits and calling us out. 

I suppose you are wondering where the title comes into play. For a moment, I think I lost myself. Sunday was kind of dreamy. But, I have to say, “Thank you”. Thank you to all the people that allowed Sunday to exist. I can’t receive, if I don’t give. And, I can’t give...if I am empty. 

The past 7-8 months has allowed me to experience a level of mutuality and reciprocity that has been life-changing. There are no expections. It’s not like someone said to me, “If you serve dinner to these people, the ones without, you can have XXXX or the prayer concern of XXX will work out in your favor.” 

I have friends, collegues, sisters and brothers who put more than they will ever know into my life and the success of my children. My daughter is able to dance out of the kindness of others. Financially, individuals have helped. But, also logistically with extra lessons and rides to and from. My son is in a culinary program. And, it has changed him in ways I am sure we won’t fully understand for years to come. Ministers, friends, and coworkers have provided practical resources, loyalty, and inspiration. 

I can only hope that I am putting as much back into this “world bucket” as I receive from it. I can say that I am a single mother. But, I am not. I am never alone in this endeaver. There are those that have been a father to my son over the years. My sisters in this world have taken over for me the days that it is just too heavy. Thank you. 

Moreover, we are just universally connected. The Rev. Dr. Raphael Warnock said, “How good, how pleasant is it for brothers and sisters to dwell together in unity.” Yeah, even when we are entirely unaware. We get too busy. We don’t always see each other. We too feel invisible. 

But, isn’t that the problem? Don’t issues arise when we think we can do it all? Don’t we sometimes think that we have all the answers? Don’t we presume the argument, intellect, or position is wrong? Thus, assuming the perspective or individual has not a right to be heard? 

I won’t say not me. But, it is a committment to be otherwise. I know that many of my friends carry political viewpoints other than my own. I’m well aware that our views on parenting, education, poverty etc., quite probably differs. I don’t know that it matters though. I don’t know that I need to hear someone more because they agree with my opinion. 

I yearn to understand. I yearn to know you. And, if I suppose that I am right and you are clearly wrong...the only thing I will know for certain, is that a part of me is missing. Because you, your perspective, your story...it’s a part of mine. Right or wrong, we are in this thing together. We are all in this together. We may not share the same “life experience”. But, we share a “human experience” that is powerful. 

We are never alone. The voice of God that says, “Don’t go down that dark alley”, the friend who calls, the car that swerves to miss your dog/child/husband...that is connectivity. The forces that pull us apart, the things that divide, the name calling during an arguement...that’s fear. We can either raise each other up and recognize the good. Or, we can respond to the negativity. One will bring about change and positivity. The other will simply magnify the status quo. 

Toad The Wet Sprocket “Brother” 

Lyrics by: glen phillips 

I find my brother in there 

Deep in my heart 

I find my brother in there 

Hold in my arms 

I love you 

And if I seem too quiet now 

There are no words 

To tell you how 

I love you 

I often feel 

Like the prodigal son 

Take all I need 

Giving back none 

Our beauty shows 

In such different ways 

You're like the light behind the fog 

So soft 

But still you burn my eyes away 

I find my brother in there 

Deep in my heart 

I find my brother in there 

Hold in my arms 

I love you 

And if I seem too quiet now 

There are no words to show you how 

I love you 

So much has changed 

And so much has happened these years 

But still I find that you 

Are waiting here 

We have a bond 

That nothing can change 

And still I find 

A peace of mind 

Whenever I hear your name 

And if I seem too quiet now 

There are no words to show you how 

I love you 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ci6drVkSHTg

Strange and Skeptical

Yesterday, we went to two church services. Funny. I hadn't planned on it. But, it was kind of like New Year's Eve. I felt a more than gentle nudge to stay. The first sermon was on faith. For those who peruse this particular blog...you might recall the post from November 29th on that exact subject. It's been only a month. But, it feels like an eternity. The last month has brought love and light...and death and catastrophe as well. 

Yesterday, I might have felt a little "beaten up". I don't know if I had lost my way or faith. But, MAN! This past few weeks had been rough. 

Life got hard. I mean the waters were rough at my house. Financial things (things that I had no control over) became overwhelming. The semester came to an end, only for me to realize that this upcoming semester would be equally (if not more) difficult. Grueling days at work left me exhausted. My Julia was in the Nutcracker. And, a dear friend lost her father over Christmas. 

It's funny. I had coffee with the pastor of my new church this week as well. It was lovely, intellectual, and challenging. He challenged me to make peace with some family situations. He challenged me to think about what my "purpose" is here in this world. I am certain that I pushed back. He was right though. There were issues that needed revisiting. There were plans that needed some adjusting. This residual hearing/listening might very well be working. God might very well accept us as we are. But, then...in the quiet space, he says, "enough". Enough with the egos, temper tantrums, and childish debates. "Can you hear me now?" And, of course we can. We revisit the conversation. We stop saying "what does he/she know". And, we breathe, we hear, we listen, we act accordingly. 

Fine. Uncle. I don't know everything. In fact, I know very little. There is so much more to learn. And, my faith is like my body. I'm a "tough broad", with "wobbly bits". Take it or leave it. I'm bruised, battered and scarred. I have stretch marks, a crooked nose (though not so much since surgery), scars on the outside, and ones much deeper that are invisible until we get to know each other. 

I can put on make-up and cover my ink with a sweater. But, at the end of the day...God sees me naked, vulnerable and true. I think most days he's pretty proud of me. And, others...well, there's some disappointment. The love doesn't change. The faith in me doesn't change. Sometimes it's a gentle nudge and other days...it's bring you to your knees stuff. 

Yesterday, I was reminded that it's more than adequate to be afraid. It's alright to ask questions. It's OK to say, "God. Today, I'm not buying what you are selling. Today wasn't fair. I don't like it, not even a little. How can you let the good guy die and keep ______ around? Where are you?" I needed reminding of the imperfect faith that we all have. We all waiver. Those perfect marriages; they don't exist. What does exist is a conversation, a journey, truth, and the capacity to do better. What does exist is God's faith in us. Perhaps that faith is the only truth there is. Jesus didn't let Peter drown in doubt. He loved him in spite of it. Maybe God loves us because of that doubt. Maybe it's the doubt that makes the faith stronger. Perhaps the only certainty in life is that we are never really alone. When we think the whole world has abandoned us, when we have lost faith in ourselves, we have a partner. Stealing a quote here..."Faith is the response that bids us to come despite rough waters, despite doubt." Another words, "Bring it!"

“I had to suspend knowledge, in order to make room for faith.” -Immanuel Kant, Critique of Practical Reason

Look familiar? Yeah, I "borrowed" it from a previous quote. Remember that coffee with the minister? He said something that didn't sink in at the time....I was telling him about how I ended up in church on New Year's Eve. I'm going to paraphrase...something a long the lines of that story being enough to make him a Pentecostal. That was deep. We can revisit that in a moment too, when we get to the part on healing. What does being Pentecostal mean? Let's oversimplify. I mean, this isn't a book...it's a blog right? Humor me. The main emphasis of Pentecostalism is the human interaction with God and the interaction of the Holy Spirit. The religious perspective isn't devoid of intellectualism. But, it certainly has some moments of "Christian Magic". We don't always buy into it. I'm the first one to shake my head at the "healing services" and "speaking of tongues". I do give room for my voice to be God's and vice versa. 

Fast forward to second service aptly titled: Do you want to be healed? Here we go again. I mean, who doesn't? Who doesn't want their sister, son, daughter, brother, dad, uncle, friend, world, maybe even enemy to be healed? Did he just ask that? 

Fine. I get it. The real question was bigger. Isn't that always the case? It's more of an...are you ready? I take a massive amount of notes. So, I could simply vomit the bulk of the sermon here. I don't think that serves a purpose though. Not here. 

I will argue something I believe in until the end of time. I have been having the same Biblical debate with one of my long-time friends for more than two decades. Twenty years ago, I didn't have the knowledge or capacity to truly have the conversation. Thankfully, neither did he. So, he quoted verses and I argued that his point of view just didn't "feel" right. Today, we had the same conversation. He still holds the same view. And, I am armed with love and a deeper understanding of the text in question. Bigger though, I have a respect for my friend that allows me to tread just a little lighter. 

My point is, skepticism. Healing might not be BAM!!! Demons be gone!!!

Healing might simply be the ability to "see" the other person. What did Bob call it? Listening Love. I think that's FANTASTIC. Really. It's not doctrine that people hear and see. Well, sometimes it is. Sure. Seeing, healing, hearing...aren't they all related. Isn't it through seeing ourselves that we see others? Then we see them and consider that we might not be so different. Don't we fill ourselves up by filling those around us? 

Back to healing. Ooh, and that relationship with God and the Holy Spirit...(sorry folks taking the long way today)...I shouldn't have made it this far. I mean by all accounts. The world and individuals have heaped a whole lot of trauma into this one life. I have given my all to "wreck" myself in more ways than one. I have experienced more pain and suffering than some of you might care to imagine. I have also experienced more blessings and moments of healing than any one individual should be afforded. I have been gifted with redo's and second, third, hundredth chances. God healed a wounded heart both literally and figuratively. I never liked that phrase "By the Grace of God". But, how else? 

I had heart surgery this Summer. And, in December I was all set to have another surgery. I flew to my appointment. I testing earlier in the week and knew that surgery was the only option. So, I sucked it up. I had someone lined up to take care of the kids. I got on a plain. And...WTH? My blood-work came back...wait for it..."good enough" according the my cardiologist. My echocardiogram came back...yup, "good enough". Good enough has never been for me. That is, good enough was never enough. Yeah, I think God was in my corner. Or, maybe the prior results were inaccurate. Maybe the healing was physical, maybe not. Maybe the real miracle was finally accepting good enough. 

But, the relationship part...that part about the Holy Spirit, isn't it just about being open to possibility? Isn't it about making room for a voice, sight, a vision or a nudge?