I’ve often wondered if people living in a historically significant time know it while they’re living it. I’ve wondered if they see the story arc rising out of the smoke, the broken buildings, the damaged lives, or from the the victories, the great leadership moves, the acts of bravery and sacrifice.

I used to wonder if I was living in a time that would show up in history books as being remarkable. I read about all the significant moments textbooks could carry forward. I saw notable events in other parts of the world… the falling of a wall, the end of a regime. But in our own country, aside from ever-present political and economic tugs-of-war, all seemed merry and bright.
Then in 2001, an ancient, never-ending conflict rocketed into our nation, unleashing a shock-wave of fear and grief. We learned we are not untouchable. Our money, our power, our fame, our stability does not protect us from the reach of unbridled hatred. It was all coming from outside. It was all ‘them’ and ‘us.’ Only un-Americans would frame it any other way. Justice was expected, demanded, ingested as the only fuel to sustain our place on top of the world. Manhunts, public and private, and eventually one man –our Enemy– was caught. We prove we can not be beaten. We assert justice. Story arc closed.

Even as we celebrated, we knew deep down this story would not close. We were right. Although the rhythm of the rhetoric has changed, hatred still speaks. Individual acts of suicidal violence scream into life-fabric all over the world. No one is immune. No gathering of people too innocent or too protected. We cannot catch our breath from one incident to the next. We lay flowers at the feet of countless fences and barricades, mourning for each group being hunted. All is grief and fear, fear, fear.

We turn to take comfort in our bordered security… and discover this darkness has not stayed outside. We are fracturing ourselves, we are fractured. Fear and hatred are very much alive within. A slow sunrise shines on our national reality: we have never recovered from the ruins of the sins of our youth. There is ‘us’ and ‘them’, and the teams change based on who is aiming the guns. How can justice get her hands around this? The acts of this ‘war’ are often individual, but look like mob mentality. They are collections of horrific moments in distinct communities playing out on the arena of global media.

This story is so close to us it has been either invisible, or it has been the blanket covering our every day; the distinction lies only between those who have been the victim and those who haven’t. We don’t see it, or it’s all we can see, and the disparity is the problem. This story arc pulses with ugly energy. Where is it taking us? We ask what can we do, when there isn’t An Army, there isn’t A Battlefield. The fields are everywhere… a million moments, a thousand jokes, hundreds of assumptions, and normal every-day folks living with the stereotypes they’re steeped in.

How are we to stay calm and confident? How will we fight this?

What we are NOT seeing are those who have been fighting hatred already. Small stories of grace, mercy, and love playing out everywhere, everyday. Small only because there are no cameras. Huge in the lives of those breaking out of what’s-always-been in order to build what-could-be. Those who step over community divisions in order to learn to know people as people. Those who serve and protect with integrity and love. Those who sacrifice and open up their lives, regardless of what they encounter.

What can we do? We can tell the stories of those who are determined to change the world through acts of love and grace. We can fight to recognize the assumptions we live within, which may be invisible to us until we are disrupted. We can teach our children differently. We can step toward injustice where we’re already standing, asking for change, holding hands with those who hurt. We can hold fast to our beliefs, but show grace, love, and respect to those who believe differently. Some of us will be in a position to affect history-book level change, some of us will not. Let this story arc not be dominated by the hatred, the hasty, the violent solutions to violent problems.

If the magnifying glass of history focuses near me and you, let it find a story fighting the downward spiral we’re seeing, a story marked by love driving out all fear, a story worth repeating.

You find yourself saying the most unimaginably crazy things.

“No one shall use the phrase ‘Your mom’ as a snarky retort.”
(i.e. ‘oh yeah? your MOM hasn’t done her homework’)

“No one shall use that little-kid-teasing-somebody ‘na na na na naaah na’ tune for anything, ever.”

“No giving wedgies to anyone outside the family.”

“No using spaghetti as a weapon.”

Sigh.

Anyone have any crazy rules to add?

As is often the case, I push away the things that could help me,
like… oh, you know…. people. relationships. God.
It’s a super healthy response. And I fall into non-action.

Reveling in this non-action, I see this on twitter from Alece Ronzino:
“Signpost for my heart today: Do not feed the fears.”

Do not feed the fears.
DO NOT FEED THE FEARS.

This gets to me.

Today, I know my non-action is feeding the fears.
The antidote to non-action is…. I think….action.
But I can’t do anything to solve any of the tangly questions in my head today. What can I do?

I attack my son’s room with a vengeance. It needs help.
I dive into the 147 layers of folders on my computer. They’re ridiculous.
And there I find this little thought waiting for me in an abandoned ‘writing idea’ file.

‘What’s in your hands? What part of God’s kingdom is in your hands? DO THAT.’

I don’t remember where this question came from originally. But it’s ringing like truth.
There are many things I can’t solve, I can’t fix, I can’t predict or control.

But what is in my hands?

Family.
Ministry.
Relationships.
Our little corner of the world.

So I care for these things today to the best of my ability.
And I will say, again, that I choose to trust.

Off I go.

Isaiah 26:3
You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast,
because they trust in you.

Doesn’t it seem like ‘those whose minds are steadfast’ will already have peace? Which then implies that it’s possible for us keep ourselves at peace. Which I don’t think is true.

(Mulling it over.)

This is a logical statement. There is an “if this, then that” relationship happening. The logic is this: if I am trusting You, God, my mind will be steadfast AND You will keep me in perfect peace.

Trust links these things together. Trust… unwavering, unshakeable confidence… resting in the fact that God is in control.

Maybe when I trust, my mind won’t be filled with worrisome ‘what-if’s.’

If I trust this way, my heart will not waver. My HEART will not waver. So I would have both a steadfast MIND and an unwavering HEART.

That would be new.

What would I spend my time thinking about if I wasn’t buried in “what if”?

What would you think about if you weren’t worrying?

Joplin still needs our help. 

Most of us know that on May 22, a deadly tornado ripped through the city of Joplin, MO. On June 24, I was a part of a group of 25 from our church in Wichita who spent the day in Joplin helping with clean-up from this tornado. Lots and lots of people have gone to do this, so we’re not, of course, unusual.

We made contact with Ignite Church in Joplin, who have aimed their entire ministry toward tornado relief, coordinating projects with volunteers. We sent six groups to Joplin last week, each group leaving early in the morning and returning late at night, as it is nearly a four-hour drive between our cities and there are very few places in and around Joplin to house volunteers.

In many areas that were hit by the tornado, homes have been inspected and declared to be fit for residence or not. Those that have been condemned need to be torn down. There are thousands of homes in this state.

Houses need to be leveled and all the debris needs to be moved to the curb. Homeowners are responsible for this. Currently, FEMA is funding the removal of that debris from curbside. But there are two problems. First, homeowners don’t have the equipment to do this themselves, even if they had the time or emotional stamina to demo their own home. Second, FEMA’s funding ends Aug. 7, at which point the cost of demo and debris removal falls to the City of Joplin (learn more about this here).

Again, thousands of homes are in need of this kind of help. It is hard, messy, sometimes emotional work. When a group of volunteers arrives at the site of a home like this with crowbars, axes and chainsaws, this work gets done, but very slowly.

On the third day of our work group efforts, our friends at R-Quip  donated one of their Bobcats for our groups to use for the rest of the week. (They also brought us LUNCH. Yay for our friends at R-Quip!) One of our volunteers also brought a tractor to use. The difference was unbelievable.

Here’s what’s needed in Joplin right now: able-bodied volunteers and large equipment to help demo homes so that rebuilding can begin. 

If you are interested in helping, please contact Ignite Church. They are doing amazing things in their city. They also post video updates daily, telling stories of tornado survivors and emphasizing the help that is still needed. If you know someone who owns the kind of equipment that could be helpful, please pass this info on to them!

Consider going.
Consider sending.
Consider giving.
Continue praying. 

Mom.
Wife.
Worship Leader.
Writer.
Gardener.
Cook.
Jesus – follower.

ugh.

The daily mental battle of never quite being able to do enough. Never quite hitting all the marks.
Marks which, of course, are self-assigned, arbitrary, and mobile.
So I –we– chase and strive, encouraged to do so by every speaker or writer who is motivational by nature.

Exhausting.

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light. (Matthew 11:28-30 NLT)

I’ve always loved that Jesus said that. But I do wonder sometimes what it really means, what it really looks like, to carry only what Jesus gives, to wait, even, while also carrying out his instruction to go…  do … and run.

Any thoughts?

I’ve been leading worship at my church in some degree or another for about 8 years. Eight. And yet this past week, it occurred to me to make the following improvements in the lives of worship band members:
 – offer to reimburse band members for ‘expendable supplies’ like sticks and strings. But not like Marshall stacks.

– document and label equipment that is owned by band members, but which stays at the church most of the time, in the event of damage or theft to said equipment.

– have a bunch of pencils and paper clips stored at the rehearsal site. I know. The mind reels at such innovation.

The best part of all of this was the rapid-fire email trail inspired by the news of the first two. You want to get band guys communicating? Write something to them that includes the words ‘reimburse’ and ‘band gear’.

While I have no explanation for why I haven’t thought of these things before, it gives me great joy to support our worship team this way. I am truly blessed to work with lots of talented, generous musicians who have great attitudes. I learn from them every single week.
___________________________________________

Jumping to current day… the worship band has grown, our facility has grown, and now we have a few more necessities:

– Planning Center Online , an invaluable tool for planning worship, scheduling and communicating with team members, as well as distributing resources for songs. I know it’s not magical… but I still call it that.

– Rehearsal cart that rolls out on stage for every rehearsal which contains: chord charts & cue sheets for the week, pencils, markers, highlighters, paper clips, three hole punch, gaff tape, an extra capo, water bottles, AND the special water pitcher for adding water to the piano. The piano humidifier, I should say.

– Organized space for gear in a locked closet.  Organized like… shelves and plastic bins. With labels. (Because label makers are, really, the best tool ever.) Helps everyone find what they need when they need it.

This isn’t high level innovation, but it just helps things run more smoothly on a weekly basis which allows us to concentrate on the music and the heart of what we’re doing. Love that.

I learned about this while studying to be a physical therapist long, long ago.

These words (proximal and distal) refer to the relative position of things within the body. Proximal means something is nearer to a point of reference, distal means something is farther away from a point of reference. The point of reference is usually the midline (the core) of the body. So… my shoulder is proximal to my elbow. My ankle is distal to my hip.  Got it?

So…. proximal stability for distal mobility.  The better developed the muscles of your core (back, abdominals, shoulder, hips), the more refined the movement of the distal parts of the body (hands, fingers, feet) can be. This is a guiding principle for therapists who are helping patients recover from physical injury, and is also the premise behind pilates.  Great tap dancers need abs of steel. A person recovering from an arm injury has to hold her shoulder in a stable position to button a button with her fingers.

Now. Let’s wax philosophical for a moment.

Kids who have stable homes have a better chance of performing well at school.
When things are in order in my home I can be more creative and effective in my work outside my home.
An organization that has a stable structure will be more innovative.
Self-discipline makes greater creativity possible.
A good leader starts at home.

Said another way….
If an organization is led chaotically, the output of that organization will dry up.
A church filled with people in conflict with each other won’t effectively serve their community.
If I’m consumed by inner confusion, I won’t notice or be able to address the needs around me.
Floppy self-discipline leads to floppy work.

Proximal stability for distal mobility.

Do you see it?

One of my favorite kinds of weather is cool and rainy and mild. Also fairly rare.

Saturday was a time-less, cool, rainy day. It was delicious.

We didn’t actually spend it lounging around in hammocks. We worked on projects and made progress on to-do lists but did it all at whatever pace, the combination of which filled my very soul.

Seriously. Delicious.

Have you had a time-less day recently? How did you spend it?

For a very long time I never really paid attention to who wrote movies, or how movies were created at all. But then DVD’s happened, with their special features and commentaries, and I started paying attention. I learned, for example, who was dreaming up that snappy dialogue I loved so much. I learned the names of the writers and directors who created those great moments for, say, Meg Ryan on screen.  Yes… I learned who Nora Ephron is through the special features reel of You’ve Got Mail.  Read a book by the writer of  When Harry Met Sally…, Sleepless in Seattle, and  Julie & Julia? Why, yes, thank you, I believe I will.

‘I Remember Nothing… and Other Reflections’ is a collection of essays through which Ephron voices her opinions and convictions about politics, religion, the internet, and food with equal irony. Every topic … pie… New York… her early career in the 1960’s journalism world… each, Ephron treats with trademark humor and shades of poignancy. Think Tom Hanks’ monologue on complicated coffee orders in You’ve Got Mail, but applied to dinner parties and writers and online Scrabble. But the thread running through the entire collection is a slightly wistful commentary on the reality of growing older. Ephron skillfully weaves stories of landmark life experiences (like meeting Eleanor Roosevelt) alongside the admission of having forgotten the details of those experiences, all of which elicits chuckles and grins, never tears.

Throughout each piece, the combination of Ephron’s style and the content she chooses is simply compelling. This is a quick read, perfect for summer. And if you happen to be an audiobook fan, Ephron herself reads ‘I Remember Nothing’, which is altogether wry and delightful.

I highly recommend.

This review was originally posted at Book End Babes.