Tripping

Just another manic Monday

2010-04-05T15:01:00.002-04:00

I was in the dentist's office today, waiting for Noah, when I heard the "Manic Monday" song. Growing up in the 80s was fun.

Anyway, YES!, I managed to semi meet my deadline. I will give you the gory details in the weeks to come. Unless you are a formula writer, this endeavor is far harder than it appears.

We'll talk tomorrow. Many thanks to those of you who have remained loyal through the stoppage - you can stop emailing me now. I'm alive. And, Jared, I owe you an email.

My apologies

2010-03-04T11:14:00.002-05:00

I am working furiously on my book, hoping to have it to my agent by March 30th. Bear with me. I miss you too.

Up (and downs) in the Air

2010-01-15T08:00:00.001-05:00

Last night, one of my closest friends took me out to celebrate my birthday. Yes, my birthday was in October, but we have both been so busy that we just got around to it.

We went to dinner and talked about where we come from. We shared our family history, and I realized that as we both talked about grandparents and old situations, there were many times we said something like, “I’m not exactly sure what happened there. No one ever talked about the details.”

After dinner, we went to see “Up In The Air” a new George Clooney movie. It was a very sad tale, really, about isolation and loss and secrets.

It’s amazing the secrets we carry within us, isn’t it? Whether it’s simply refusing to verbalize an opinion or staying mum about something that we did in our youth (or yesterday) that we are ashamed of, we just keep things to ourselves. Often we have fantasies, or dreams for ourselves, that we never tell anyone. Mostly I think we internalize those out of fear that they’ll never come true.

I have been working on a book for 2 years. I told everyone about it, and even got an agent fairly quickly. Things were humming along, and parts of it went to focus group and everything. When the process stalled, I started to keep things to myself. I’m not sure if it was embarrassment or a sense of failure or what – but for some reason I kept all those feelings to myself – fear, disappointment, questions.

Now that things are humming again (yeah, you’ll have a book in 12-18 months!) I am trying to examine why I am so open with success and closed with failure. I sense, after our conversation last night about family history, that is critical for our children and our world that we start to express our inner selves a little more.

Someday, when my great-granddaughter is out for her birthday with a friend, I want her to be able to articulate who I was and WHY I was. Of course, she won’t know everything, but perhaps it will be an encouragement to her life to know the ups and downs of mine.

Safety

2010-01-14T08:25:00.002-05:00

I currently sit on the Safe Schools Advisory Council for the school district we live in. It is a large district, with over 3300 students in the high school that only houses 10th, 11th and 12th grades.

After the Columbine incident, many schools have taken a proactive approach to school safety. Even though I fully support having a plan in place, as I sit and discuss things like “armed intruder drills” in our elementary schools, I can feel my heart breaking.

How did we become so troubled?

I also serve on a school committee that advocates the Olweus Program. It is labeled an “anti-bullying” program, but I see so much more happening. One of the key components is building empathy. The program has designed routines and activities and ideologies that promote empathy.

EMPATHY: noun; the intellectual identification with or vicarious experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of another.

For the world to ever be safe, empathy is the key. Now, if you’re a Christian, you may be thinking, “The world just needs Jesus!” Well, yeah, but what was He about? He is the consummate example of empathy = descending to earth to live as a man. Talk about walking in someone else’s shoes!

Empathy takes time and effort, it is intentional. I want to have this empathy flag that waves in front of my face every time I am tempted to feel judgmental or jealous or even annoyed. And, frankly, I do.

The Spirit of God is my empathy flag, and He reminds me of grace and compassion. He encourages me to remember that my perspective is limited, my point of view is self-centered and my outlook can be self-serving. Then He gently tells me again that the grace I have received is the grace I should dispense.

Giving and receiving grace. Everybody’s safe.

Look up

2010-01-13T06:42:00.004-05:00

I have been attending a lot of basketball games in recent days. All three of my children play, my oldest on two teams, and so the schedule is pretty packed.

The last two nights have been Mia’s team. If you have never seen a basketball game involving young girls you really haven’t lived. My husband, the coach, is incredibly patient as they learn and develop the motor skills necessary to play.

One of the phrases that he yells out often is, “Look up! Look up!” Girls (and young boys) have a tendency to look down at the ball when they are dribbling – part of learning how to control it – but they fail to see the court and their teammates and the basket when they do. Steve is encouraging them to dribble without watching, to keep their eyes set on the entire game – a skill that requires practice.

Over the last two nights, the phrase has been ringing in my ears: Look up! Look up!

It says in the book of Philippians chapter 4, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

Don’t watch yourself dribble today.

Practice looking up.

Straight away

2010-01-11T09:47:00.003-05:00

I am writing today while sitting in the waiting room at the orthodontist’s office. My son, JJ, is getting his SECOND set of braces put on, after wearing his first pair for 2 ½ years.

The process of getting braces put on is two-fold. The week before the wires and bands, little tyrants called “spacers” are placed between the teeth to make room for what’s coming. As you can imagine, both steps in the braces process, spacers and wires, HURT. JJ says that, for a few days, it feels like a constant toothache.

Pain is an interesting phenomenon, really. Think of the lengths we go to in order to avoid it. And, yet, if I read my Bible correctly, pain is absolutely INTEGRAL to becoming like Christ.

When they placed JJ’s spacers in last week, he continued to be AWARE of their presence – mainly because of the discomfort they caused. Often in my own life, when my relationships are out of sorts or broken, there is a discomfort – a pain – that reminds me of a problem. I suspect this is a very good thing, even though I do not like it. Sleeplessness, a disturbance in my spirit and the inability to forget are the impetus we need - to act, to change, to respond. Pain is God’s way of keeping us alert.

When JJ learned he would need another set of braces, I’ll admit he cried. Funny though, when he was younger and knew he was getting braces, he was actually excited. What’s different this time? He KNOWS what it’s like from experience – he anticipates the pain he will have to endure.

True for me, too. I know, without doubt, that the way of Christ is death and resurrection. Things must die – attitudes, habits, people, even really GOOD things – in order to make way for the new thing that God wants to do in our lives and in the world. Yet, after we experience this death a couple of times, we become gun-shy. Though we know it’s right and good and best – it HURTS. We anticipate the necessary painful process as we grow closer and closer to God, but it is still hard to welcome it. Learning to accept it straight-away, instead of practicing avoidance techniques, is a result of experiencing the freedom and wholeness that comes from completing the process.

Embracing pain as the cleansing, growing and teaching agent that it is can be difficult. God knows that – remember He went to the cross – proof positive that temporary pain creates a path for healing and redemption.

Oh, and straight teeth.

Pride cometh before the fall...

2010-01-05T21:45:00.004-05:00

I am really crazy about my children. As a matter of fact, I must admit to some pride.

My eldest humbled me yesterday, however.

I heard some rustling yesterday morning about 5:00 am. I figured someone was using the bathroom and allowed myself a few more minutes to doze even though I am usually up at that time.

I woke with a start at 6:15 am, realizing I had overslept, and ran into my son’s room to wake him as well. He was under the covers as he is most mornings, so it never occurred to me that he had been up and around already.

Minutes before the bus was to arrive, he asked me if the printer to the family computer is working. I explained that it is, but is running low on ink, so he’d better use Dad’s printer. I then innocently asked why he needed to print something when it was almost time to catch the bus.

I won’t bore you with every sordid detail, but suffice it to say that Noah had gotten up at 5:00 am to write a major English paper that he was supposed to be working on for the entire Christmas break. And, yes, he was back in bed at 6:15 am.

The paper was based on “Our Town” by Thornton Wilder. Just like its character, Emily, Noah was asked to ponder the important things in his life that he takes for granted – things that he would realize are precious if he suddenly died.

Hmmmm. I can immediately think of a variety of things he could choose from, not the least of which is his mother’s steadfast love and attention.

What do you suppose Noah wrote about?

SHOWERS (yes, the kind where you use shampoo), WEARING CLOTHES (there was even a forced reference to those poor naked countries where people apparently are forced to work in the nude) and HANGING WITH FRIENDS AT SCHOOL.

I have been purged of my hubris. Thank you, Lord.

Picnic anyone?

2010-01-04T08:22:00.004-05:00

We had a lot of holiday revelry at our house over the past two weeks. Between our friends and family (and our kids’ friends) we had parties, holiday gatherings and sleepovers.

I have decided to deal with the aftermath piece by piece. I woke early this morning to tackle my kitchen, but right before I turned on the dishwasher, I decided to run downstairs and see if I could find any stray dishes I had missed. Sure enough, there were two soda bottles on a video game shelf that I had not seen earlier, and I grabbed them.

It wasn’t until I was back on the steps that I realized that the bottles were covered in ants. You may be wondering why it would take me so long to see it, but frankly, I was not EXPECTING ants. For heaven’s sake, it is way below freezing in the part of the country were I live, and ants on a soda bottle in my family room did not even occur to me. As a matter of fact, I was borderline shocked at the discovery.

As I rinsed the bottles upstairs, I pondered how the little critters got there. All ants should currently be hibernating, right? Or do they die each year? I must do some further research – or call an exterminator.

This may be a crazy stretch for you, but right at my sink I had the strangest notion that Christians should be like ants.

The grace and kindness and patience we are to embody in the world should seem so out of place, should almost shock those who touch it. Christians are out of place in many ways, but not the ways we’ve chosen.

Case in point: I have a friend on Facebook who is an old pastor friend of mine. He taught a class I was a student in years ago, a class I enjoyed very much. He has since taken a church in Texas, and so I have not seen him in quite a few years. I do read his FB updates, however, and apparently he believes Texas is “God’s country.” His view of Texas must corroborate his view of being a Christian – and he often makes scathing commentary on the rest of us being Socialist or not standing up for family values or whatever is itching his conscience at the moment.

For some reason, American Christians believe that being the vocal moral conscience of our nation is the way to influence change – or why the Bible says we are to be in the world but not of the world.

What if – and I say this after washing them down the drain – we are to be more like my ants? What if our love and graciousness is to be so tangible that it is simply out of place in a world that lives below freezing? People certainly aren’t expecting it, it may even produce further research.

Merry, Merry Christmas

2009-12-15T19:49:00.004-05:00

Make Peace.

See you in January.

Feelings or lack thereof

2009-12-14T07:11:00.000-05:00

I had the strangest dream last night. It involved old friends, some sad news, and the name of an old infomercial product that evaded me throughout the dream – one that I intend to Google later today.

Funny, though, I wasn’t sad about the sad news. The others weren’t over-wrought, mind you, but they showed decent sorrow. Me? Not a bone of decent sorrow in me.

The person that had died (yes, it was a death scene) was someone I know, but just a casual acquaintance. People that I know well know her – so I am kind of connected through mutual knowing, but not by common experience or time spent in friendship.

When I woke up, I took some time to marvel at my lack of feeling. Someone had died, after all, and her death had affected those I love – even if it hadn’t really affected me. It was just a dream, but I wondered what was wrong with my heart.

The feeling reminds me of how I can see stories on the news, or hear truths about the living conditions of people around the world, and somehow stay disconnected. Someone once told me that we can’t possibly take it all in or we’d be emotional wrecks, but I think it should disturb us that things don’t disturb us.

So, as I brushed my teeth this morning, I watched the water come on and prayed for the millions in refuge camps who have no access to clean water. I didn’t stand there and feel lucky or blessed. No, I felt the inequity. I felt the responsibility to act.

Look at your water today and ask God for a heart like His.

O mummy dear

2009-12-11T06:59:00.006-05:00

J.J. has been working on a project for the Ancient Egyptian Fair at his school today. You can see from the pictures, that he made a mummy. He also wrote a paper entitled, “Ancient Egyptian Mummification.” He was never one for flowery titles like his mother.

As I edited his paper for him, I learned so many fascinating things. For instance, I knew that the Egyptian embalmers removed the internal organs and put them in canopic jars, but I did not know that they left the heart in the body because they believed it to be the center of feeling and the essence of the person. Apparently, a person was going to need his or her heart immediately in the after-life, so nobody dared take it out.

The brain, however, was a different story. A long spike was pushed up the nose of the corpse, the brain was smashed, and then removed with the spike. Often times, the brain was simply thrown away because it was considered generally unimportant.

Now, we know that our brains are important, but it got me thinking.

How many times have I let my “better judgment” be an obstacle to acting on a compassionate impulse? Or how frequently do I let fear undermine an empathetic urge? Often times, thinking things through has proved my downfall – and at other times, impulse has landed me in a shipload of trouble.

Perhaps there are legitimate reasons to throw the brain away.

Peace

2009-12-10T15:03:00.000-05:00

"True peace is not just freedom from fear, but freedom from want."

President Barack Obama when accepting the Nobel Peace Prize today.

Me and Karl

2009-12-09T06:39:00.004-05:00

Growing up in the good ol’ US of A, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Communism was a great evil that needed to be eradicated from the face of the Earth. The Cold War was a pressing necessity, and when the Berlin Wall fell, I had the same sense of pride and eagerly participated in the “Go Capitalism!” pep rally like everyone else.

Now, I think I am a Communist – or a Marxist at the very least.

I spent one week on a cruise ship. What I observed in the dining room was enough to make me rethink the whole world, probably because the whole world was around me.

The wait staff represented 67 different countries. Our waiters were from the Philippines and Jamaica respectively – Ricky and Andre were their names. They were very hard workers, and during the first meal I decided to learn about them.

Both had families back in their countries that they were away from for 6 months at a time. Andre would disembark once a week, on Wednesdays, and jog to his kids’ school to check up on them briefly before rushing back. Both spoke multiple languages (far more than the one that I can barely use properly) and they were intelligent and fascinating men.

On Day 2, I asked them why they do this job. Ricky smiled thoughtfully and essentially explained that his sacrifice provided opportunities for his children that they would otherwise miss out on.

I began to pick up my own dishes by Day 3 – uncomfortable with being served in this way. Unless we are disabled, putting our own napkin on our laps should be a no brainer also.

There was a group at a table near us that continued to attract my attention. Using my keen observation skills, I determined that they had saved for quite a while for this trip. I will not go into further descriptive detail, but just know that they were no multi-millionaires.

The way they treated the wait staff, however, was appalling. They acted as if they were the royal family (actually, the royal family has far better manners) and were so demanding. They each ordered multiple entrees every night, sometimes just having a single bite, and wasted an obscene amount of food. You realize, I suppose, that I am really holding back on these folks trying to exercise grace – but it isn’t easy!!

They felt like someone owed them something. I’m not sure why, but they were fine upstanding examples of why the world hates Americans.

I started to wonder what Ricky and Andre thought. By Day 5, I was brave enough to ask.

“Oh, Wendy,” Ricky said with a smile, “there are people like that all over the world. Unfortunately, they all vacation here.” We both laughed.

As I ponder social inequities, I recognize that they have caused both problems – both Ricky being far from his family and people trying to feel important and acting like jerks. I hear the argument that we provide jobs and income and it all makes the world go round, but somehow somewhere something is terribly wrong.

I am not escaping the hypocrisy of my own presence there. Out of guilt and appreciation, I left them a huge tip. Did I help or hinder?

I’m not really a Communist. No, I am in favor of a dictatorship – a benevolent one where God is in charge. I wonder what that would look like?

Onward

2009-12-07T08:21:00.003-05:00

We talked abouth THIS ARTICLE at church yesterday. If you don't have time to read it, essentially a group of Christians, calling themselves the "Christian Army," marched in a town not too far from where I live in order to protest the removal of the nativity scene in the town square.

I have always been intrigued by our use of certain terms. Even that hymn that says, "Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war..." was one that I just stood and let everyone sing around me.

No need to be militant about nativity scenes. If you want them that badly, put them up in your own yard. Instead, be just as intentional about love. Use your energy differently.

As Pastor Jim said yesterday, set an injustice straight this season - a real injustice where people are suffering and unheard.

Or maybe take that free ham you won with your supermarket points and hang it on someone's door knob - anonymously. Lots of people are struggling financially this year.

Last week, the principal at my son's school said something intriguing to him. He said, "You lead by doing, not by telling."

Amen.

Let's all put our weapons down this year.

And BINGO was his NAME-O

2009-12-03T19:31:00.003-05:00

I have a very conservative heritage. There were no playing cards allowed in my grandmother’s house, and my parents did not allow dancing at my wedding. Lest you find them prudish, they are great people who are lavish with their love, and they truly felt like there were some temptations that were better avoided.

On my honeymoon, I met a 73 year old Jewish woman from Florida named Myra. She and her husband had recently sold the chain of discount liquor stores that they owned, and so they now took cruises several times a year in their retirement. I met her on the pool deck on the first day.

We became fast friends, and later that afternoon, Myra invited me to go play bingo on a lower deck. I had NEVER played bingo before, as it was considered gambling in my home, but I was a grown and married woman now, AND the idea was intriguing, so I tagged along.

It is now 17 years later, and even though I have managed to resist the temptation to play every Tuesday night at the local Catholic church, I must admit I became obsessed with winning bingo on that trip. I never missed a chance to play (neither did Myra) but I chalked my persistence up to the fact that I needed a break from the Caribbean sun by the time 4:00 pm bingo rolled around.

Since I am in confession mode, I will tell you that every vacation that I go on, if there is bingo to be played, I participate. I even dragged my children into the obsessive pit last week with me.

I have probably played a total of 27 games of bingo in my life. Considering I have lived approximately 15,330 days, that is pretty insignificant, but in all that time, I have NEVER won. Every game I am convinced that I will win, but I never do.

We traveled with another family on our vacation last week, and my husband had warned them ahead of time about my vacation bingo addiction which they found very amusing. The first evening of our trip, they tagged along, much as I had done with Myra years ago. Would you believe that their 9 year-old daughter won the $500 first night jackpot?? No kidding.

To make matters worse, her mother (my friend) won $98 the next night AND won a free string ray excursion. We had already chosen that particular excursion, so the ship happily refunded her pre-payment as part of her winnings.

I already suspected, before the trip, that I was unlucky, but I could no longer ignore the cosmic confirmation of my unluckiness anymore.

So, because of my background, I was tempted to wonder if God kept me from winning. I already have that natural guilt-o-meter built in, but to assume that God would intervene in a bingo match to teach me a lesson is an interesting perspective, isn’t it? Does God even care about bingo? Probably not. Does God care about how I use the money and resources that He has given me? Definitely.

Which, of course, brings me to my point. I think sometimes, in our efforts to always do right, we can consider God to be a cosmic kill joy or we imagine that He would thwart our fun. I don’t think God was terribly upset about bingo, but I know He wants me to think about the time and money I was wasting – and, really, for what?

It’s a great life question really – one that we should ask before playing bingo or performing brain surgery…

For what?

Myra lived quite a few more years after my honeymoon, and we exchanged Hanukkah/Christmas cards every year until she died. Wonder what she’s doing now every day at 4:00 pm.

Let's face it

2009-12-02T00:42:00.000-05:00

While I was on vacation, I won a free facial. Let me try to explain the problem with that.

I have RIDICULOUSLY sensitive skin. Even very expensive, all-natural products bother my face, and so I walk around with the complexion of Winston Churchill most of the time.

Never one to pass up on FREE, however, I decided to explain to the woman at the salon about my ever present ruddy situation – thinking that she may have some helpful hints to help me.

I was treated like royalty upon entering the place, handed a refreshing glass of mint water, and invited to wait in a sound proof room that was pumping in classical music. Delightful.

A gorgeous woman from South Africa then came to collect me, and take me to a treatment room. The room was immaculate, quiet and painted in soothing colors. I marveled at my good fortune, sat on the treatment table, and waited to begin.

The gorgeous woman was named Chane (SHANAY). We spoke at length about my hyper-sensitivity problem, and she nodded with confidence. I was in good hands.

As the facial began, I was invited to lie down upon a table and was covered in warm blankets. Irish flute music was playing, and the lights were dimmed. All the creams and clays smelled so great, and I almost fell asleep as Chane wiped and examined and pampered.

Afterwards, I sat back up and took a moment to wake up. Dear Chane was smiling at me and asked if I was ready for “a little chat.” Sure, I thought, why not? Everything still smelled great.

Suddenly Chane’s face turned grim. Whatever the news, it wasn’t good.

“Your face is in serious trouble,” was how she began. “You seem like such a lovely person, why wear a face that doesn’t reveal your beauty?”

PAUSE: At this point in our story, I was feeling more disbelief than actual hurt. I took a quick look around the serene room for the Candid Camera.

Chane went on, “The circulation around your eyes is very poor. You obvious laugh a lot, because your laugh lines are frighteningly deep. And, honestly, I would like you to see our Botox specialist. It’s a free consultation, and I really think it would help solve many of your issues.”

BOTOX is such a fascinating word, isn’t it? It’s on par with CELLULITE and GIRDLE and GRAVITY.

After more scary facial revelations, Chane handed me a paper with all her recommendations written in tidy handwriting. If I had purchased all of her suggested products (some for everyday, some for monthly use and some quarterly) I would have spent $ 2,138 on face creams. I think I added a quarter inch to my laugh lines just then as I imagined my husband’s face when I explained the bill.

All of a sudden, though, right there on the table, it wasn't funny. I had the most grippingly sad moment for women who actually spend their time trying to be younger. Someone must follow all these instructions or they wouldn’t exist, right? I suddenly felt very weighted in the light room, and if there are sadness lines, I’m sure I started on them. Preying on insecurity, beauty experts clean out our wallets and our sense of self.

Sure, I want to look nice – who doesn’t? But there is something deeply troubling about that much self-focus.

I smiled and thanked Chane profusely for her time and attention. I assured her that the whole experience was terribly relaxing, but went on to explain that I love my lines. I laugh out loud freely and often, and I guess it shows.

I think it’s worth it to mention that the products destroyed my skin. Later that evening, I could feel the burning and tightness beginning. Days later, I am currently walking around with huge red and scaly patches all over my face, and Winston Churchill is actually prettier than me right now.

Prettier. Not happier.

Where to start, where to start...

2009-11-30T20:44:00.003-05:00

I have been away with my family. It was a great time.

I observed SO many things that I want to discuss with you that I'm not even sure where to start, but let me just give you some hints.

I think I'm a Communist.

A woman told me I need Botox to my face.

I saw the best and worst of humanity.

I did not win even one game of BINGO. I am officially the unluckiest person I know.

And, after I finish the laundry, we'll talk about it all week. See you tomorrow.

Obvious to what

2009-11-16T00:30:00.000-05:00

“… those of us who have the nerve to call ourselves Christians will do well to be extremely reticent on the subject. Indeed, it is almost the definition of a Christian that he is somebody who knows he isn’t one, either in faith or morals. Where faith is concerned, very few of us have the right to say more than—to vary a saying of Simone Weil’s—“I believe in a God who is like the True God in everything except that he does not exist, for I have not yet reached the point where God exists.” As for loving and forgiving our enemies, the less we say about that the better. Our lack of faith and love are facts we have to acknowledge, but we shall not improve either by a morbid and essentially narcissistic moaning over our deficiencies. Let us rather ask, with caution and humour—given our time and place and talents, what, if our faith and love were perfect, would we be glad to find it obvious to do?”

— W.H. Auden

Branching out

2009-11-12T08:36:00.006-05:00

I keep learning from my children, and at the risk of sounding like a bragging mother today, I need to tell you about last night.

J.J. was in a play.

Now that may not sound very earth shattering to you, but let me explain. I used to be an actor – many moons ago now – but I could never get my children to even sing in the church choir – especially J.J. No amount of coercion or bribery would convince him to stand up in front of other people, and so I just let him choose for himself.

When he came home from school one day and declared, “I got a part in the play. I am the prince. I sing a solo and I have to wear tights,” I was pretty sure I would have a coronary right on the spot. This was no small step into performing. No, for a nonexhibitionist – this was a leap off a cliff.

I suspect it helped that two of his buddies from the baseball team were in it too – another fact I marveled over. What was happening to their well defined cleat wearing roles?

Last night during dinner, as we prepared to leave for the show, I asked J.J. if he was nervous, and he said exactly this:

“I think I’m always nervous when I try something new, but I chose to be the Prince, so I’m going to suck it up and go out there. It’ll probably be great once I get started.”

Later, after his thrilling performance (thrilling being his mother’s word) I thought about that response. My friend Dave, who I do not see nearly enough anymore, sent me an email the other day and he essentially talked about the price of being a true follower of Christ. He wrote, “I’ve never felt more excited about the gospel, but I feel I’m now amongst an incredibly small minority that feel this way. Most feel that they liked me better the way I was.”

It’s an old story, but the truth is that Christians want things to be easy and comfortable, and that desire seems to be in direct contradiction to the life of Jesus and His words. Being a follower of Christ demands venturing into uncomfortable, unfamiliar and brand new places – both literally and figuratively.

When God asks me to have a look at myself, I am often forced to face things about my personality and my bias’ that are disturbing to me. I would often like to think about cotton candy instead, but I recognize that if I dare to go there, God has something great for me in the end – growth, healing, better relationships.

My little baseball Prince reminded me of the truth:

I think I am always nervous when I try something new, but I chose to follow Christ, so I’m going to suck it up and go out there. It’ll probably be great once I get started.”

So, like J.J. and his baseball buddies above, I'm still branching out.

Learning to lose

2009-11-10T07:46:00.001-05:00

I will admit that I have gone completely the opposite way of Winston Churchill. You may remember his famous quote:

“Show me a young Conservative and I'll show you someone with no heart. Show me an old Liberal and I'll show you someone with no brains.”

Labels bother me though. When I was younger, I was naïve and I bought into the whole Christian-conservative-family-values-war-hawk front. I was never right-wing, mind you, because I always had enough in me to question everything. However, I do not think I wear the word “liberal” well either. It, too, has many troubling aspects.

I want to be a Christian. How that forms my thinking and forces me to interact with the world is a result of Scripture and my relationship with Jesus.

For instance, in my Bible reading lately, I have been really wrestling with Mark 8:34-36. The same kind of Jesus’ ideology can be found in other gospels too, but let’s just look at what Mark recorded:

34Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. 36What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?

Crazy challenging words, and I think we have come to think that Jesus was being figurative – but I suspect that He was being quite literal and thorough actually. Remember that many of His listeners died for their faith – as did He – and there is something very deep and profound here for us.

One of the arguments that I hear against promoting peace around the world is that it would expose us to danger at home. Our foremost concern seems to be protecting not only our lives, but our WAY of life here in America. We are motivated by fear, yes? And for some insane reason, we believe that WAR brings about PEACE.

Now apply the words of Jesus to our thinking. What if being vulnerable and promoting peace (i.e. less money on weapons, less emphasis on posturing, more on education, food, clean water) does in fact open us up to danger but is indeed the way of Jesus anyway? What if He is telling us that defending our way of life by any means necessary is an ultimate forfeit of our souls?

I do not have answers. I’m just thinking.

Hmmm...perhaps someone is messing with me?

2009-11-05T08:05:00.001-05:00

Bearing gifts

2009-11-03T00:13:00.000-05:00

If you have followed the blog for some time, you know that we have adopted 4 stray cats. I never had cats growing up, and I am learning what fascinating little animals they are.

They are constantly bringing me gifts. Usually, they bring mice indoors and leave them in my slippers. One even left a full size rabbit under Mia’s bed last Spring.

This week, however, they have been baffling me. Last Friday, I left a bag of Halloween candy downstairs in the family room – which is probably the farthest point from my bedroom, and each morning when I wake up there are little candies by my bed. None of the candies are open, but they keeping picking out the same kind.

Let me be sure you understand. There must be 20 different kinds of candy – Sweet Tarts, Reese’s, Laffy Taffy, Snickers – but they have been digging through the bag and selecting the mini Hershey bars – Krackel bars and Dark chocolates .

I find this so amusing, that I continue to leave the bag of candy unattended, just to see if it will keep happening. Is it the color? Is it the smell? Did Hershey pay them a fee for product placement?
I was sitting and laughing with my husband about it, watching our beloved Phillies, when Mia noticed that one of the cats was playing with something in my closet. She was rolling around with my shoes, shaking something back and forth. I got up to check, thinking it was chewing my belt, when I suddenly realized the belt was moving – all on its own.

The Visible Invisible

2009-11-02T06:54:00.002-05:00

We had a bout with H1N1 here at the Melchior’s. That is not a new or unusual tale, because MANY households are experiencing this nasty flu.

When my kids are really sick, I am reminded of the fragility of life. I sometimes imagine the invisible war going on all around us – the microscopic germ that can wreak complete havoc on a huge body vs. the antibodies within our bodies that fight to ward off more attacks. It’s like a game of Risk.

Faith – believing in something you cannot see – can seem a little risky too. I wrestle with doubt, just like everyone else, and believing in the unseen isn’t a popular choice in our culture either. Oh no, we are far too advanced and self-sufficient for invisible things, aren’t we?

Here’s the thing, though. God is really not invisible. Unfortunately, however, some who claim to represent Him are wreaking havoc and they seem to be the ones who claim the spotlight – ensuring their visibility. They remind me of the flu.

There are faithful people of God quietly making His presence tangible all over the world – digging wells to find water, feeding hungry children in urban centers, rescuing women from human trafficking, honestly loving their neighbors – all clearly in the name of Jesus.

Just because God doesn’t clamor for your attention doesn’t mean He isn’t there. Have a look around today.

Oh my God?

2009-10-20T00:26:00.000-04:00

There is a new documentary entitled, Oh My God?, that is already playing at film festivals and will hit the U.S. in November (select theatres). The director, Peter Rodger, told reporters at the Jerusalem Film Festival, “My goal was to find out what this entity that goes by the name of God means to people.” He went on:

“I was fed up with the childish schoolyard mentality that permeates this world, what I call the "My God is Greater than Your God" syndrome. By throwing out the question in an interview as 'What is God?' instead of 'Who is God?' it makes the interviewee look at God from the outside in rather than from the inside out.”

Hmmm. Interesting questions.

Let’s personalize it a little. Would you ask, “Who is Wendy? or “What is Wendy?” and how would I feel about either question?

I completely agree with Rodger’s idea about the childish schoolyard mentality, but I must disagree with his thesis that asking WHAT instead of WHO uncovers truth.

When I was a pastor to 20 somethings, I used to say over and over to them, “Always start with God. Don’t begin with your own perspective or circumstances or learning, because your conclusions will end up faulty. Find out who God is first, then see yourself in light of Him – not the other way around.”

What is God? God is the Great WHO, the Great I AM. It is amazing hubris on our part to think that we can define Him on our whim or point of view. God does not exist to fit our individualized need for a god, He exists to expand our smallness and give us a taste of His power and eternity. We were made by Him remember? Oh how we love to think we invent Him though.

Rodger’s documentary interviews several celebrities, one of which is Hugh Jackman. He says something in the film that made me smile:

"If you put Buddha, Jesus Christ, Socrates, Shakespeare, Arjuna, Krishna at a dinner table together, I can't see them having any argument."

I agree. God has no need to prove Himself, just the fact that Christ joined us for dinner is enough.

Look for the signs

2009-10-19T07:54:00.003-04:00

It’s going to be a long week. I have been having trouble sleeping. Combine that with the fact that our Phillies are playing into the later hours, and I have been all but useless the last couple of days. Of course, my schedule is jammed packed, so it’s been challenging to stay alert.

Last night, as I watched our beloved Phillies beat the Dodgers, I sat in front of my TV at home. At the stadium, however, the frenzied crowd chanted various phrases including the traditional ones like, “Charge!” and “Here we go, Phillies, here we go!”

However, every time Manny Ramirez came to the plate, the chants became less traditional. You will remember that Manny was caught using steroids earlier this year – actually I think it was labeled a ‘female hormone’ - but either way he was given a 55 game suspension by the MLB, a suspension he already completed. I have been told that Philadelphia is a particularly brutal town to be the away team, but I have no other frame of reference.

I was intrigued by the taunting of Manny, even signs pointing out his error, all on national TV. Now, many of us would claim that it goes with the territory, kind of like you do the crime you do the time, and that’s how I felt at first.

Then I imagined myself walking down the street with people carrying signs outlining all my indiscretions.

“Don’t deny you’ve told a lie.”

“No need to repeat, Wendy’s a cheat.”

You get the idea.

For some reason, we love to continue to punish people, don’t we? Forget the macro example of Manny Ramirez, how about in our homes? Do we revisit people’s (spouse, children, family, neighbor) sins over and over? Perhaps we do not chant, but does our behavior toward these folks suggest that forgiveness is a long way off – or forgetness will never come???

I suspect that I am not going to convince an entire city, one that is pretty revved up right now, to stop taunting Manny, but that same city has reminded me to let others off the hook – to practice tangible forgiveness.

“No need to hide, I’m on your side.”