Sunday, my son and I joined two other Villagers for a trek to Indiana to visit a sister church there. On the drive back, we stopped to get drinks, and my son and I each got a sandwich to eat on the drive home. It was well after noon, and breakfast had been much earlier that morning. When we got back in the car, the comment was made to me, rather scornfully in my opinion, "Hungry much?" In a word, yes. Duh. Obviously. But I said nothing, trying to let the comment roll off my back as I've been counseled to.
The question that this raises to me is would such a comment have been made to someone who was just riding with us? Or is there a place of comfort that allows us to say WHATEVER we like to one another at WHATEVER cost simply b/c we are "family"? I do not think the same comment would have been made to someone who does not share life, day in and day out. Which raises yet another question - is it somehow ok for us to be more harsh with one another than with others we interact with outside the home? At one point does couth and compassion make way for scornful opinion?
I'm all for speaking the truth - IN LOVE. Without love, spoken truth is meaninless. I'm sure there are those who would disagree with me on this, but lets face it - trying to convince a starving street person that Jesus alone is all he needs when his belly is empty falls painfully short of the message of compassion and love that Christ came and lived and died for. Without love, truth lacks value. Without love, truth is subjective. Without love, truth is simply another form of JUDGEMENT.
I've been discovering the very value of value in our lives over this past year. However, the worth of a person is at best compromised (and at worst, devalued) when perceived truth is spoken without the filter of love, without the compassion of Christ, and without much regard or thought as to how such words could be taken. Believing that I am "worthy to be loved" is brought into the blaring light of question when something as simple as my nutritional choices are brought into question in the way that it was.
In contemplation I've come to this conclusion - never assume malice for what ignorance can explain. Some people simply don't know any better, or simply don't think before they make statements like this. In examining the situation more, I am aware of the issues of the person who questioned me - they have a fixation on food that most people don't have, and it would seem perfectly reasonable to them to make such a statement to anyone. In sharing life with this person, I've seen this played out in many different ways, and they've been called to the carpet on it before. And so, it is with that experiential knowledge that I realize my worth remains intact, my value stable, in spite of the perception of others.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
I am the Hammer!
Some time back I saw this cute little cartoon, Get Fuzzy. Old Satchel dog was trying to love on the dysfunctional, disturbed Bucky cat, and said, “Let’s play like we’re utensils in the kitchen drawer.” Bucky thinks for a moment, picturing knives and corkscrews and the like, and then says, “Ok Dog, you’re on. You go first.” Satchel leans over, gives Bucky this huge hug and says, “I’m a spoon!” Bucky has this look of sheer terror on his face as he shrieks, “I’m a hammer! I’m a hammer!”
I know the terror from which Bucky Kat speaks. I too would rather be a hammer - feared by all the other utensils in the drawer, revered by the smaller tools. Capable of both destruction and the repair of destruction. I have swung a hammer that has created holes and brought down walls. Similarly, I have also swung the hammer that put up new walls. Of all the tools in my caches, the hammer is the most ambivalent. It does not have ONE purpose; it is not simply a tool of destruction OR a tool of repair.
Today, a friend said to me, “I am hugging you inside” and if it is possible for the spirit man to backfire, mine did. The carefully constructed walls that said, “Stay here, outside this line and come no closer” were both respected and totally ignored as she made that statement to me. Hugging me - not breaking the physical rule, but is the physical rule the most important one? Do not hug me translates to do not care for me. Allow me to be aloof, to use humor to hide what really pains me. Do not hug me means do not see past my walls into the core of who I am really am, a childlike creature dying to become alive through a simple hug. I wanted to scream, “Don’t say that! Don’t do that!” and I didn’t know why. I wanted to run - wanted to crawl under the chair I sat in and disappear. Who am I that someone deems me huggable? That they are willing to respect the boundary I’ve set, and yet still communicate the depth of concern to me? Who am I? I want to be a hammer again.
I know the terror from which Bucky Kat speaks. I too would rather be a hammer - feared by all the other utensils in the drawer, revered by the smaller tools. Capable of both destruction and the repair of destruction. I have swung a hammer that has created holes and brought down walls. Similarly, I have also swung the hammer that put up new walls. Of all the tools in my caches, the hammer is the most ambivalent. It does not have ONE purpose; it is not simply a tool of destruction OR a tool of repair.
Today, a friend said to me, “I am hugging you inside” and if it is possible for the spirit man to backfire, mine did. The carefully constructed walls that said, “Stay here, outside this line and come no closer” were both respected and totally ignored as she made that statement to me. Hugging me - not breaking the physical rule, but is the physical rule the most important one? Do not hug me translates to do not care for me. Allow me to be aloof, to use humor to hide what really pains me. Do not hug me means do not see past my walls into the core of who I am really am, a childlike creature dying to become alive through a simple hug. I wanted to scream, “Don’t say that! Don’t do that!” and I didn’t know why. I wanted to run - wanted to crawl under the chair I sat in and disappear. Who am I that someone deems me huggable? That they are willing to respect the boundary I’ve set, and yet still communicate the depth of concern to me? Who am I? I want to be a hammer again.
Finding my God Family was easier than finding Nemo
For years now, I've been searching for someone. Someone I'd read about, someone I was vaguely familiar with, and someone who had not yet "come into" their own. I knew what they looked like, what kind of work they were involved in, who they were married to, etc. But I didn't really know who they were. . .that someone was me.
As recently as a year ago, my life began to experience a progressive wrecking of all the things I thought I had figured out. I suppose God was in control of this - being that He's in control of everything.
What began as an adventure to "Encounter" God at our church has quickly transformed into something entirely different, but not altogether unlike what I imagine a God encounter would be. I snuck into the church - late - for the service, and slid into a pew in the back. I listened as a man discussed the things that held us in bondage, and pulled my feet beneath the pew I was sitting in as my toes began to be stepped on. I refused to move when God pulled on the strings of my heart - frightened into a frozen state and disobedient beyond belief.
Since that night, I've learned to move IN God. I've learned that when He comes close it isn't to step on me, but rather to hold me as He gently brings chastisment. I've learned that my obedience is far more valuable to Him than any sacrifice I might lay at His feet.
I've also learned that transparency isn't a trait to be feared, or to hide. There are these people in my life who have created a safe place where I have begun to live freely, where transparency is a currency traded between us for the most valuable gifts we can offer one another. I have learned that this isn't just their "ministry" but rather it encompasses the living out of their lives. I have seen this effect in their adult children - who have accepted our family and emeshed us into their lives. We've celebrated the addition of children, shared football games, and played "family" sports on Sunday afternoons. When we had trouble with one of our cars, one of their children freely gave out of the abundance of his own house. Our children have been welcomed openly, and interact freely with the grandchildren. Our lives are immeasurably blessed because we have seen the absolute evidence of "living your faith."
In recent months, I've learned that some of these people are now aware of some of my personal unique characteristics. Where I expected fear and shunning I've received instead acceptance and friendship. This. . .far more than anything else in my life. . .has restored my hope in human kind.
I am beginning to find that the harder I look for myself, the more elusive that person I'm looking for becomes. But when I stop working so hard, and allow myself to be "found" by others, who I'm finding is the person I'm sure I was created to be.
As recently as a year ago, my life began to experience a progressive wrecking of all the things I thought I had figured out. I suppose God was in control of this - being that He's in control of everything.
What began as an adventure to "Encounter" God at our church has quickly transformed into something entirely different, but not altogether unlike what I imagine a God encounter would be. I snuck into the church - late - for the service, and slid into a pew in the back. I listened as a man discussed the things that held us in bondage, and pulled my feet beneath the pew I was sitting in as my toes began to be stepped on. I refused to move when God pulled on the strings of my heart - frightened into a frozen state and disobedient beyond belief.
Since that night, I've learned to move IN God. I've learned that when He comes close it isn't to step on me, but rather to hold me as He gently brings chastisment. I've learned that my obedience is far more valuable to Him than any sacrifice I might lay at His feet.
I've also learned that transparency isn't a trait to be feared, or to hide. There are these people in my life who have created a safe place where I have begun to live freely, where transparency is a currency traded between us for the most valuable gifts we can offer one another. I have learned that this isn't just their "ministry" but rather it encompasses the living out of their lives. I have seen this effect in their adult children - who have accepted our family and emeshed us into their lives. We've celebrated the addition of children, shared football games, and played "family" sports on Sunday afternoons. When we had trouble with one of our cars, one of their children freely gave out of the abundance of his own house. Our children have been welcomed openly, and interact freely with the grandchildren. Our lives are immeasurably blessed because we have seen the absolute evidence of "living your faith."
In recent months, I've learned that some of these people are now aware of some of my personal unique characteristics. Where I expected fear and shunning I've received instead acceptance and friendship. This. . .far more than anything else in my life. . .has restored my hope in human kind.
I am beginning to find that the harder I look for myself, the more elusive that person I'm looking for becomes. But when I stop working so hard, and allow myself to be "found" by others, who I'm finding is the person I'm sure I was created to be.
Love is Family - REAL family
For some time now, I've been in the process of a healing. Many of you know that last year I was cast out of my church. I was not given an opportunity to defend myself, and in fact, the decision was made just days after Paul and I lost our baby. This decision was made by our pastor (who I no longer blame) based on faulty information that had come to him by way of his own gossiping staff. Though I was wounded, at least my wounds were visable and could be accessed for healing. In some, there are far deeper, more damaging wounds that lie just beneath the surface, unseen and festering, and these are what destroys God's people.
Since that time, God has been working in me and on me regarding issues of forgiveness, and learning to find the worth that HE has determined to be within me. As a Christian, I'm not sure there's anything more damaging or a betrayal that could run deeper than having been rejected by your friends and family of faith. My heart was broken, my soul rended, and I was a mess.
And yet, that's the place where Jesus just loves to climb down into and start working.
The idea that Love Wins had become blasphemous to me - that this church used this phrase as a handle was what first attracted me. That the One who was Love would ultimately Win - what an amazing way to reach out to people. Already seeking healing in other areas of my life, I fully embraced this principal, and began to open my heart to the love that I believed God was pouring out through others. Sadly, we all learn the hard way (at least once) that while God only pours in perfect love, human beings have a way of screwing it up and using God as a battering ram against the hurting.
Some would argue that my concept of love leaves no room for truth. Quite the contrary, you cannot genuinely LOVE at all, unless you love in truth. Love is far more than an action committed from one person to another, or from one group to another. Love is choice, a way of life, a way of living out your existance with one another. It is about far more than rings, or houses, or beliefs, or agreements, or whispers behind the backs of others, or face to face confrontation. Love is what fuels the choices you make. Love is what makes Mercy a verb.
It's been a little over a year since I got my walking papers and my scarlet letters. I've thought about a lot of things in that time; about what I'd like to say to those who knowingly betrayed me. I'd like to ask them if the 30 pieces of silver was worth it. I think about the man whose actions nearly drove me to suicide, and then I quiet my soul and pray for him. I can't imagine the burdens he shoulders daily. I think about being rejected - again. And then I think about Jesus, and how nothing I've endured is unlike His own life.
I've also learned a lot about what Love is and what it is NOT.
Love never hurts.
Love isn't about keeping score or being proud of yourself.
Love takes no sanctuary in evil things - not in lies, not in gossip, not in secret darkness.
Love can never fail - ever.
Love is a multitude of wonderful things however;
Love is opening your home - not just your house, but the privileges that come with sharing a home.
Love is opening your arms - not for quick once weekly pats on the back, but for "all the way around" types of hugs that make most church people nervous.
Love is sticking someone with a needle, and then sitting with them in the ER.
Love is logging nearly 100 hours in a car with someone without killing them.
Love is a kiss on the forehead - even if you're both adults and not married to each other.
Love is sharing life - all of life.
And that kind of LOVE really does WIN.
Since that time, God has been working in me and on me regarding issues of forgiveness, and learning to find the worth that HE has determined to be within me. As a Christian, I'm not sure there's anything more damaging or a betrayal that could run deeper than having been rejected by your friends and family of faith. My heart was broken, my soul rended, and I was a mess.
And yet, that's the place where Jesus just loves to climb down into and start working.
The idea that Love Wins had become blasphemous to me - that this church used this phrase as a handle was what first attracted me. That the One who was Love would ultimately Win - what an amazing way to reach out to people. Already seeking healing in other areas of my life, I fully embraced this principal, and began to open my heart to the love that I believed God was pouring out through others. Sadly, we all learn the hard way (at least once) that while God only pours in perfect love, human beings have a way of screwing it up and using God as a battering ram against the hurting.
Some would argue that my concept of love leaves no room for truth. Quite the contrary, you cannot genuinely LOVE at all, unless you love in truth. Love is far more than an action committed from one person to another, or from one group to another. Love is choice, a way of life, a way of living out your existance with one another. It is about far more than rings, or houses, or beliefs, or agreements, or whispers behind the backs of others, or face to face confrontation. Love is what fuels the choices you make. Love is what makes Mercy a verb.
It's been a little over a year since I got my walking papers and my scarlet letters. I've thought about a lot of things in that time; about what I'd like to say to those who knowingly betrayed me. I'd like to ask them if the 30 pieces of silver was worth it. I think about the man whose actions nearly drove me to suicide, and then I quiet my soul and pray for him. I can't imagine the burdens he shoulders daily. I think about being rejected - again. And then I think about Jesus, and how nothing I've endured is unlike His own life.
I've also learned a lot about what Love is and what it is NOT.
Love never hurts.
Love isn't about keeping score or being proud of yourself.
Love takes no sanctuary in evil things - not in lies, not in gossip, not in secret darkness.
Love can never fail - ever.
Love is a multitude of wonderful things however;
Love is opening your home - not just your house, but the privileges that come with sharing a home.
Love is opening your arms - not for quick once weekly pats on the back, but for "all the way around" types of hugs that make most church people nervous.
Love is sticking someone with a needle, and then sitting with them in the ER.
Love is logging nearly 100 hours in a car with someone without killing them.
Love is a kiss on the forehead - even if you're both adults and not married to each other.
Love is sharing life - all of life.
And that kind of LOVE really does WIN.
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Salvation Debate
My children attend a small Christian school on the West Side. We were very happy to get them into the school, and for the most part, we're still happy. Yesterday however, that happiness met with a little kink.
My sweet daughter climbed into the van and promptly asked me two questions;
1) Mom, how many times exactly did Jesus die?
2) Is it true that even if you're saved, if you do bad things and don't get forgiven you'll go to hell?
The answer to number was easy enough to give, and I could see where her confusion came into play. I guess it IS a little confusing to think of Jesus dying on the cross, coming up out of the grave three days later, lingering on earth, and THEN going to heaven. Especially when your ten year old brain believes that when you die, you're present with God immediately. That one was easy to clear up.
The latter however, engages with personality quirks, theology debates, and doctrinal confusion. Figuring out a way to explain to her that many of the authority figures in her life (her teacher, her parents) have DIFFERENT beliefs about something so personal and intimate as salvation was NOT quite the place I'd wanted to go on the drive home.
We had home group last night, and so I broached the subject with our group. Represented at the table was a span of Christian maturity, as well as elders who've already traversed the difficult questions of adolecence with their own children. I value these people; their insights, and their experiences. I can't begin to put into words what it's like to have 50+ years of experience to glean from, and I don't think I'll ever go back to a typical small group of people my own age.
In the end, I can clearly see that whats more important is that I'm able to assure my daughter of the Savior who truly saves her; who did what He said He'd do - which is give her eternal life with Him. She chose Him, she lives for Him, and whether or not she does a list of things right, or never makes a good decision in her life, she belongs to Him. Period. Helping her to have the confidence in her faith is my job - I could debunk THIS teacher, but there'll be another one sometime else down the road; another teacher, a friend, or maybe even a husband. Teaching her to stand firm in her faith is the best gift I can give her today.
My sweet daughter climbed into the van and promptly asked me two questions;
1) Mom, how many times exactly did Jesus die?
2) Is it true that even if you're saved, if you do bad things and don't get forgiven you'll go to hell?
The answer to number was easy enough to give, and I could see where her confusion came into play. I guess it IS a little confusing to think of Jesus dying on the cross, coming up out of the grave three days later, lingering on earth, and THEN going to heaven. Especially when your ten year old brain believes that when you die, you're present with God immediately. That one was easy to clear up.
The latter however, engages with personality quirks, theology debates, and doctrinal confusion. Figuring out a way to explain to her that many of the authority figures in her life (her teacher, her parents) have DIFFERENT beliefs about something so personal and intimate as salvation was NOT quite the place I'd wanted to go on the drive home.
We had home group last night, and so I broached the subject with our group. Represented at the table was a span of Christian maturity, as well as elders who've already traversed the difficult questions of adolecence with their own children. I value these people; their insights, and their experiences. I can't begin to put into words what it's like to have 50+ years of experience to glean from, and I don't think I'll ever go back to a typical small group of people my own age.
In the end, I can clearly see that whats more important is that I'm able to assure my daughter of the Savior who truly saves her; who did what He said He'd do - which is give her eternal life with Him. She chose Him, she lives for Him, and whether or not she does a list of things right, or never makes a good decision in her life, she belongs to Him. Period. Helping her to have the confidence in her faith is my job - I could debunk THIS teacher, but there'll be another one sometime else down the road; another teacher, a friend, or maybe even a husband. Teaching her to stand firm in her faith is the best gift I can give her today.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Cast of the Village
Thinking about how I want to tell this story, I realized I need to at least begin introductions to our cast of (colorful!) characters.
Paul - that'd be my beloved. . .also known as my sweetheart, honey, pooh bear, and often, butthead. We've been partners, lovers, friends, married for nearly 16 years. We have two incredible wee ones as well. . .
Michael - my 13 year old "boy man" who is now taller than me, sprouting a 'stach, and all into girls.
Abigail - my beautiful 10 year old little girl who is content to simply "be" with any of us, and is the love factor for all of us.
Don and Margaret - home owners of the "village," house builders, problem fixers, construction workers, miracle workers. . .friends. . .family.
And then there's me - Holli - and today I'm feeling rather a bit like the village idiot. Maybe tomorrow it'll be somebody elses turn.
In the past, the family has included Carol (Don and Margaret's youngest daughter) and our "family" Rocky and Raven. Rocky and Raven have since decided to move back to John Deere land, but knowing Rocky's desire for a man with a full mouth of teeth, I doubt they'll be staying. I figure about the time Raven brings home a boy with chaw in his mouth and a "high falutin'" ambition to own his very own double wide to park his combine next to, that'll be the day she packs up the wagon and gets the hell out of hillbillyville . Until then. . .who knows.
From time to time there are more (or less) of us. Football season tends to bring in all the other kids and grandkids - I'm not old enough for my own, but I am sure looking forward to the experience based on the fun I've had with Don and Margaret's grand babies! I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving, when my precious Aunt Hayley and Uncle Dave will be joining us for about a week.
Paul - that'd be my beloved. . .also known as my sweetheart, honey, pooh bear, and often, butthead. We've been partners, lovers, friends, married for nearly 16 years. We have two incredible wee ones as well. . .
Michael - my 13 year old "boy man" who is now taller than me, sprouting a 'stach, and all into girls.
Abigail - my beautiful 10 year old little girl who is content to simply "be" with any of us, and is the love factor for all of us.
Don and Margaret - home owners of the "village," house builders, problem fixers, construction workers, miracle workers. . .friends. . .family.
And then there's me - Holli - and today I'm feeling rather a bit like the village idiot. Maybe tomorrow it'll be somebody elses turn.
In the past, the family has included Carol (Don and Margaret's youngest daughter) and our "family" Rocky and Raven. Rocky and Raven have since decided to move back to John Deere land, but knowing Rocky's desire for a man with a full mouth of teeth, I doubt they'll be staying. I figure about the time Raven brings home a boy with chaw in his mouth and a "high falutin'" ambition to own his very own double wide to park his combine next to, that'll be the day she packs up the wagon and gets the hell out of hillbillyville . Until then. . .who knows.
From time to time there are more (or less) of us. Football season tends to bring in all the other kids and grandkids - I'm not old enough for my own, but I am sure looking forward to the experience based on the fun I've had with Don and Margaret's grand babies! I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving, when my precious Aunt Hayley and Uncle Dave will be joining us for about a week.
Choosing to "do life together"
A year ago, we were invited to join our family with another, and "share" our lives with each other. This began a journey that taken us through trials and ups and downs and joy and tragedy and all the elements that life has to offer. When we made this choice, the thought process was relatively simple; we'd do this for "the time being" as we figured out what our next step was going to be. But in the midst of the journey, God brought THREE families into fellowship as ONE.
And so begins the story of we became a village in a big old house, on Hawthorne Avenue.
And so begins the story of we became a village in a big old house, on Hawthorne Avenue.
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