How Much We Need The Needy

Mary had only been home from the hospital for a few days and was still settling back into her nursing home apartment. It was her birthday and I was on my way up to her room to give her the standard card and balloon that the facility provides for all of our residents on their birthdays.  It was the first thing on my “to do” list and I had a particularly busy day ahead of me.  As I walked into her room, I could tell right away that the last thing she needed was some happy idiot singing the birthday song loudly and shamefully off key.  Instead, I decided to give her a more low-key birthday greeting.

After I presented her the balloon and card and placed them where she requested, I started on my way out her door saying “Have a wonderful birthday, Mary”.  As I started across the hall towards the stairway, eager to begin chipping away at the next rock on my mountain of tasks, I heard Mary’s faint voice reply “I don’t want any more birthdays.”  I felt my heart sink, but my feet were still moving as if they hadn’t heard a thing.  When I reached the stairway, something stopped me cold.  “What are you doing?” was the beginning of my inner monologue.  “This woman is reaching out in desperation.  She has just told you that she has no desire to see another birthday and you are just going to walk away from that?”  I stood there at the top of the steps, wavering.  I tried to reason with myself “Hey, I can’t be there for everyone!  I’m only one person and I have so much work to be done.”  Then came the hard-hitting question…”Define your work.  What is your mission here?  Is it paperwork?  Is it passing out balloons?”  Another attempt to put my petty tasks before a hurting woman’s needs was not necessary and I started back toward her room. 

I reentered her room with arms wide open and asked if I could give her a hug.  She happily accepted and I could see Hope returning in her voice.  I sat down next to her bed and asked her why she made the comment about not wanting another birthday.  She began to tell me of her woes, her aches and pains, her loneliness and her confusion about God’s plans for her.  I held her hand as she unloaded her troubles.  It occurred to me that this woman just desperately needed to be heard and understood and I almost missed the opportunity to be there for her.   Now as she sat up in bed, crying and letting it all out, I could clearly see that I was being rewarded – we were having a tender moment together – this was the kind of connection that both of us had been hungering for. 

For a brief moment, I beamed in the certainty that I had made the right choice that day and the experience itself had rewarded me, but the pain of the real lesson in this moment was just about to strike.  As I leaned over to give Mary another hug, she squeezed my arms with love and appreciation and said “I wish there were more people like you in the world.  Why can’t there be more people like you?”  She had such sincerity in her eyes and all my eyes had to offer back were tears of shame.  I said my goodbyes as quickly as possible, gave her another hug and I was gone.  I had to get out of there for fear of disappointing her with the truth.  The truth is that I didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth;  that just minutes before, this person she suddenly thought so  highly of stood at the top of the steps selfishly trying to place priority on her own small world of paperwork and everyday tasks while a woman cried out for a moment’s relief from her everyday realities of loneliness, sorrow, agony and misunderstanding.  I didn’t have the guts to tell her that there have been others who didn’t make “the cut” and that it could have just as easily been her – she wouldn’t have wished for more like me if she had known that.

I didn’t know how to tell her all of that and how everyone wants to be able to be there for those in need, but most of the time, we just don’t know how.

The truth is…we all need each other desperately and around every corner,  God has provided us with an abundance of opportunities to reach out and, not only help someone, but love someone.  We may not always notice it as an opportunity, but when we do, it is in everyone’s best interest (especially our own) that we take heed and follow what our hearts are telling us.

One never knows what kind of unexpected blessings are wrapped inside of those opportunities.  It could be a valuable lesson that turns into an on-going gift, such as the one I received from Mary on that day.  That was years ago and Mary no longer celebrates any birthdays on this earth…but I still celebrate the gift she left behind for me.  It was not a fair exchange.  I gave her a balloon and a card and she gave me a lesson in life and love that will stay with me always.

 May 2013 find us all embracing the endless opportunities to love and bless others (and ourselves).

Christmas Letter 2013

They showed up out of nowhere, just weeks after we had moved into a new place and a new chapter of our lives.  A small congregation of juncos found their way to us and I could tell by the way they took to the feeder in the dogwood tree and took cover in the nearby bush just under the kitchen window that they were planning to see us through the winter.  They quickly determined this was “home” for a while and I think they were well aware that they were being admired from the other side of the brick every morning.  Upon moving here, one of the first things I did was put up bird feeders…and I waited.  It didn’t take long for them to find us…cardinals, woodpeckers, chickadees, juncos and most recently, a pair of blue birds are inspecting a house I hung on a sturdy pine.  They are my angels…time and time again, they seem to show up when I need them the most…reminding me I am not alone here and pouring beauty over my life with the grace of their flight and the secrets in their songs.    It is a gift that no dollar amount can measure.

I can’t say I never would’ve thought I would find myself here – in emotional and financial chaos  – for no other reason than the simple fact that, it can happen to anyone on any given day.  We are not self-made people and we only have so much control over the circumstances of our lives.   I have my tendencies towards arrogance, but not to the point of not knowing my place next to any and all creatures of mankind.  As far as I can see, we are all next in line for a spot on the homeless or bankruptcy list – we just don’t know it.

Despite this fact, my human nature has found me drifting now and then into states of denial & dread about the reality that I face ahead.  But I have no cause for fear because I have been reminded in some of the most profound ways that we are not walking through this chapter alone.  Just like those birds that always show up when I need them most, so does my God and the incredible people around me that He uses to display the loving way he stoops down to wherever I am (Psalm 18:35) just to raise me up and send me off into flight on the wings of his sufficient grace.

That sufficient grace has come in so many unexpected ways, like feathers falling from the sky, composing a secret message just for me (and my girls). I found “feathers” from friends who took us in or gave us a temporary place to stay, wanting nothing in return.  I found more feathers left anonymously for me at my favorite coffee shop in the form of a generous gift card, and there was the time a friend put gas in my car when, unbeknownst to that kind soul, I didn’t know how I was going to make that nagging “empty” gas light go off.  More feathers were falling when a friend gave me a job and I could’ve made a comforter out of the bounty of feathers that fell all around me through the generosity of several people who gave me an opportunity to regain my footing emotionally and financially.  And they kept coming…feathers of support , encouragement, a listening ear, time, help and empathy freely given to my daughters, help moving things I couldn’t handle by myself, an unexpected check in the mail and so much more (you all know who you are).  And just the other day, I picked up a trunkful of feathers in the form of Christmas gifts and gift cards for my daughters from a local church...a flock of beauty we have yet to meet.  Yet they took it upon themselves to do something for them that I cannot do this year – even Black Friday wouldn’t have helped me this year.  I was blown away by their generosity, but I think my favorite part was a card from a 96-year old woman, who included $2 in cash because she wanted to help give us a good Christmas.  And did she ever!  If I know anything, I know that God loves to take what we give to Him, no matter how small, split it wide open and multiply it in immeasurable ways.  This Christmas, I have a valuable and powerful gift to give back to those who are next in line for chaos…$2 in feathers and faith…and it never would’ve happened if not for the exact place I stand at this point in time.  I have been given the honor of being a part of a miracle that I already know will keep giving for eternity.  That is a deal no Black Friday can touch!

Merry Christmas and may your blessings be multiplied in 2013!

George's Pizza, Pasta & Joy

I love this place!  The food is always good and the couple who run this operation are always pleasant and full of joyful life.  Now I know good and well that they are not riding on any gravy train.  Every time I’ve ever come in here, they are here, hard at work, but they work hard with smiles on their faces and theirs is the kind of smile that takes a whole lot more than mere facial muscles can produce.  Theirs is a smile that can only come from Real Joy.

I can’t help but be curious enough to want to ask one of them what they feel is the source of their joy.  I am certain I know the answer, but I think I will ask anyway.  I ask the bright-eyed man, as he walks by my table, “Where does your joy come from?” and to my surprise, he answers with a reply that sounds more life a question “Because this is business and we have to(?)”.  Unsatisfied with his answer because even though it is not a lie – it is not the truth, I prod him again to let him know that I am now ready for the real answer.  He accepts my invitation and begins to tell me that he loves being in the restaurant business.  He went on to tell me that he used to be an accountant and he left that behind for this.   “Now we’re getting somewhere,” I thought.  He told me about some of the frustrations and hardships of the business but they couldn’t  hold a candle to the becoming light in his smiling eyes. 

Just as I was about to get up from the table, he pointed at my Bible and said “Pray for me…and my business.”  I gladly committed myself to his request and then he told me how glad he was to see someone pray before eating their meal and that people still read “the good book”.  AHA!!  I thought.  That was the answer I was waiting for.  That was the real source of his joy.

The Secret of the Trees (written Fall, 1998)

I sit here in a sober trance looking at the early October trees.  They are trees I have gazed upon in wonder many times before but now, at this moment, they are showing me more than I usually see.  They are mocking me today and each time the autumn breeze caresses their limbs, they seem to sway in their own laughter.  They are laughing at me in a way that suggests they know something that I don’t.  But a descending leaf of green, invaded by splashes of red, begins to speak to me loud and clear and within the short span of time it takes for a leaf to make its journey from branch to soil, the “secret of the trees” unfolds before my eyes.

How can it be that in all of this time I have never seen this obvious reflection?  How could I have missed the ever-so-blunt comparison between the natural cycle of a tree and the intentions God has for human existence?  But there they stand – autumn trees – in the middle of a journey that every soul will take as well…the journey of transformation.  Nothing changes overnight and, like the trees, there must come a time for every searching spirit when there is more darkness than light, for it is what unfolds in the darkness that gives true color to all things.

Once we have the courage to face the darkness and we can see for ourselves how our sins and our suffering are transformed into beauty, we are then able to accept them and we begin to let go.  But friends, I can assure you that letting go of pain and past trespasses is not as natural nor as easy a process as the leaves that fall gracefully to the ground.  I have often found myself raking up piles of my fallen past only to hump them right back over my shoulder, repossessing my heavy load.  So I just let them fall again and again, however many times it may take, until I finally learn.  And, in time, I am able to shake them off for good and they become rich soil that can be given away for the good and the growth of others.

But the hardest part is still yet to come.  The transformation from idle existence to darkness,  to colorful beauty brings us to another place that makes us plead for mercy and courage.  We come to the place where we must stand naked before the world in the same way a tree stands naked before us in the purifying process of winter.  This is the place where we face the cold chill of rejection and loss.  This is the place where we learn humility and what it means to stand before God and your fellow man with no means of hiding your flaws, your negative thoughts, your fears, your tears, your vulnerability, your emptiness, your wants, your rage, your greatness, your lack of faith and your need to hide the fact that you are not perfect.

But despite the terrifying unsightliness that may lie underneath your “leaves of protection”, one has never seen more beauty in you and more proof that God dwells within your heart as when you stand with no shame in spiritual nakedness.

Battle....

I’m not gonna get in the ring with you tonight

I know you made me and you have the right

But you just squeezed the very last drop of fight

From your girl who can no longer stand in your light

 

Yeah, go ahead and take some more!

Isn’t that what you sent me here for?

To drag me right up to their beautiful faces

And rub my nose in those privileged places

Only to turn me out by my ear

Writhing in pain from my want and my fear

 

While the violins play “Maybe next time, my dear”

Hell yes, I’m angry! And I don’t mind saying

That, tonight I just don’t feel much like praying

And I know that you love me despite how I feel

Sometimes, I just wish that you were not REAL

 

So I could go on feeling bitter self-pity

Without the conviction of being a city

Up high on hill where light can be seen

I just wanna live somewhere safe -  in between

The Heaven and Hell that play catch with my soul

And inquire with knives “Are you half?  Are you whole?”

 

But you love me too much and you won’t let me go

And somehow I lift up my face and I know

That no matter how I may feel at this moment

I will rise up tomorrow and face my opponent

Staring at me in that ugly dark mirror

And your face will shine through, even brighter and clearer

Whispering sweetly “I’ve never been nearer”….

But tonight, you are simply nowhere to be found

I can neither abase, nor can I abound

The best I can do is to utter a sound

From worship’s despair “Once Lost, Now Found”

 

Just another day’s work on life’s battle ground….

 

Hello Again, October...

Hello again, October...
It's good to see your face
Oh how those umber-misted cheeks
They liven up this place!

Your scent of spice and earthen musk
Is magic potpourri
That sifts through all my days gone by
And sets the sweetest free

And how I fancy your caress
Of cool and gentle breezes
You bring relief from summer's heat
With playful winter teases

You're a soothing invitation
To bake a pumpkin pie
And sip on apple cider
By the season's first firelight

And never such a spectacle
Do these "awed" eyes behold
As you breathe new life to foliage
In shades of red and gold

And even as your colors fade
And make their great descent
How graceful they are falling
Like angels Heaven sent

And on your farewell's eve
In the nakedness of day....
Your beauty overwhelms me still...
Oh won't you longer stay?

Deadly Tongue

It’s funny how one little thing
A fellow man can say
Can pierce a heart and thrust it
Into spiritual decay

And most would never fathom
What torture they impose
With words that leave the mouth too fast
Like venom through a hose

She didn’t even know me
But couldn’t hold her tongue
And like a charmed and deadly snake
It slithered out and swung

But poised, I saw it coming
And I, too quick to stay
And wait for her to strike me dead
With what she had to say

One lunge left and one lunge right
And backward paces swift
I dodged those sharp, accusing fangs
Yet stepped right off a cliff

And in a canyon lying
In pieces on the ground
Could not command myself to move
Nor utter slightest sound

Now IRONY is circling in
To feed upon my plight
Where fear and self-preserving flesh
Save not, but paid with life

Hope on its Feet

It was at the peak of chaos in an already tumultuous time in my life and the fiery darts just didn’t seem to stop coming.  I spent years fighting a war with a handful of little stones of Hope and on that day, I felt like I had thrown the last stone…there was nothing left but me and a bloodthirsty war.  And there I sat, in my driveway, head in my hands, tasting my tears of defeat, unloading my cares onto the shoulders of God.  That’s when I saw it…a beetle lying on its back, unable to help himself get on his feet.  He was unquestionably stuck in a deadly predicament, flailing his little extremities about vigorously.  I watched as the motion of panic slowed in his legs and I wondered what was being signified by that fading of movement…the fading of panic or the fading of Hope?  My guess was the latter.  I am ashamed to say it, but before that moment, there was a good chance that I would simply squash that beetle simply because I have defined them as ugly, creepy creatures and I don’t want to share my personal space with all that creepiness.  But that day, I saw myself when I looked at that beetle.  He just needed someone to come along and help him instead of try to squash him because of fear or discomfort or whatever else he might evoke in other creatures.

So I gently flipped him over onto his feet and smiled as I watched him scurry to the next opportunity.  I don’t know what was waiting for him…he could have been some bird’s dinner that very evening or maybe he will outlive me and tell all of his great grand beetles the story about how some creepy-looking giant saved him from peril.  I just know that we all deserve a little help now and then, for no other reason than the fact that we are human beings and we are supposed to help each other.  Sometimes we will be the helper and at other times, we will be the one in need.  I was trying to imagine how silly it would be to hear that beetle say to me “Oh, don’t trouble yourself with all that effort of turning me over…I will be fine.  I got this!”

Yeah……right. 

Yet that’s what I want to do when I can’t seem to get on my feet on my own.  I want to pretend I don’t need help and that it’s too much trouble for others to help me.  The truth is…I don’t like feeling vulnerable and in need.  I don’t want to have to trust people and I don’t want to believe that I just might be worth the support or efforts of those around me…who love me or just want to help because they’ve spent some time panicking on their crunchy backs in someone’s driveway before and they understand that we can’t do LIFE all by ourselves.

That was less than two months ago.  I am still in this storm, but I’m learning how to stand in it and dig into the soil beneath my feet to brace myself when the winds get rough.  And when I get knocked down, I’m getting up quicker and quicker and before I know it, I am smiling…even laughing…knowing this too shall pass and as each day moves into the next, I am getting further and further from the Egypt of my soul and I am less and less of a slave and more and more myself because of what others are doing for me.   We are not self-made people.  We are made by a God who loves and cherishes us no matter what.  And we are here on this earth to give Him glory and we do that by loving others like He loves us.  Despite the fact that we will always fall short of His display of love, we are not off the hook to do our best with whatever and whomever we have to work with.  So I want to humbly thank everyone who has ever helped me or shown me love, friendship, support and kindness.  I would have no strength at all if not for your existence.  Without you, I am bird food at best.

Ten Dollar Girl

Ten dollar girl in a ten dollar skirt
Waving ‘em down on their way out to work
Cuz the freaks don’t just come out at night, you know
You’re always on the clock in The Life of a Ho

A car pulls up
She jumps inside
And takes him for a
Dirty ride
Emerging with
A new fat lip
And fresh belt marks
On legs and hips

But no one sees
And no one cares
She’s just a “Ho”
Who rents her wares

To men
Like her father
And his friends

You see,
If we go back 12 short years before
that day the world pronounced her a
WHORE
You’ll find a baby
Newly born

But 12 years can break a soul with scorn

So perfectly precious
The world at her feet
With so much potential
For a front row seat

But the truth never found its way
Into her heart
About who she was
And all she would impart

On a world that needed her gifts
And her love
But the lies won over
When push came to shove

Her mama never loved her
And made her aware
That if she disappeared
Nobody would care
“Button that lip
While I’m beating your ass!”
And Daddy just stares at the TV

And laughs

“That show sure is funny!”
And the volume is loud
On purpose - He’s chillin’
For cryin’ out loud!

5 years old
She sleeps on the floor
Night time
Brings the sound of a door
Opening
Slowly

A virgin no more

Innocence running down her legs
Never to return again
By 7 miserable years of age
She’s full of fear and captive RAGE
She dreams of dancing on a stage

Naked

For jerks who smell like beer and talk shit
“Come over here, sweetie and show me your tits!”
Her dreams now whittled down to
THIS

But one childhood is all we get
So by the tender age of 10
She’s been with far too many men
But who can call them men anyway?
Cowards are what I would say

But age 11 . . . That was the year
Her night in shining armor appeared
Tall, smooth-talker, singing his song
Three times her age & ten times as strong
He smelled her hunger
From miles away
It won’t take much to make her play
His game . . .

Flowers
Name Brands
And a few fancy meals
She’s loving the way
This guy makes her feel
She’s crippled by his tender
Embrace
Now she’s perfectly groomed
For that hard fall from grace

Not a shot in Hell
Not a hope
Nor prayer
When he tells her
“We need money . . . Dear”

She didn’t plan on this
Surprise!
He sees reluctance in her eyes
And makes her pay
Between her thighs

She won’t make that mistake again
And thus, her new career begins
Her title: “HO”
Her clients: YOU

That’s right,
I said YOU!
The pimps and the Johns
And the lawmakers too

The apathy-stricken
And those who will quicken
To condemn and to judge the used and abused
As though they were begging to be ill-accused
And shun a child who carries a shame
That belongs to a fool of another name

I’m talkin’ ‘bout YOU
The cops on the street
That treat them like a piece of meat

And neighbors on the brothel street
Who don’t report the things they see
And moms and dads who grave neglect
You set them up as first elect
For predators to leave them wrecked
For Life . . .
Is it over yet?

Doing “Life” at 12 years old
In ruthless heat
And bitter cold
When she should be goin’ to birthday parties
Doing homework and playing with Barbies

But she fell in love with a hustlin’ monster
Who did what good people don’t seem to want to
He told her nice things
And made her feel loved
And showered her with
Kisses and hugs
And gave her the things
Her poor heart dreamed of
Then

BAM!

It was over
Honeymoon no more
One day a child
Next day a whore
More lost and empty
Than ever before

Promises
Promises
She believes
She can’t afford to hurt
Or grieve
Last trick of the night and then she’s done
This makes number 21

Night falls on the busy street
Where friends and lovers come to meet
She watches as they walk on past
And hears a whisper . . .
“Free at Last!”

And Hope comes rising in her throat
Maybe one day
I can be like those people
Who walk past every night
And see no evil

But unfriendly eyes
Feed her lies
She swallows them whole
And they poison her soul

Those hypocrite eyes tell her
“Girl, get real!
You’re trash and nobody cares how you feel!”
They’re right, she thinks
I’m a Ho and so what?
At least I get paid for being a slut!
These squares on the street,
With their big fancy jobs and their big, fancy suits
They’re just big, fancy snobs!

They can keep their square-ass livin’
The street is where I wanna be chillin’
I don’t want to be no stupid bride
Having babies and jobs . . . and pride

She no longer feels human
Just a shell to be used
By an endless line of dirty old men
Just like her father
And his dirty old friends

Who use her up like a 50 cent condom
Then they go home and kiss the cheek of their daughters
One gets a kiss, the other ten dollars
“If that’s who they are, I don’t need no dam father”

Yes this is the glamorous, high-living world
Of a scandalous, criminal 12-year old girl...

FLY . . . .

O Firefly, Bright Firefly

Please let me join your flight     

And cheat that bitter darkness

On the wings of Truth & Light

O Bluebird, Lovely Bluebird
When you perch so near to soul
I long to wear your cobalt shade
And sing in colors bold

O Butterfly, Sweet Butterfly
Don’t leave me far behind
Calling out in agony
To a world that’s deaf and blind

Just take me when the evening light
First shows her lovely face
Into the mystery of night
And leave no sign or trace

Of anything I ever was

And what little that remains

And dance me into vapor

Slipping softly from my chains

Praying Over “The Incident”

To the young man in the parking lot who sat in his car doing something highly inappropriate while my daughter and I were getting back in the car:

You are very fortunate that my 10-year old daughter did not see what you were doing in your car because it would’ve taken all I had not to drag you out of your seat and go  Chuck Norris on you in public with your pants down.  That being said, I am thankful for all of us, but mostly my daughter, that she will grow another day closer to adulthood without having been scarred by things children should never have to see.  

I want you to know that even though it made me angry and I did not hesitate to call the cops on you, I know you will most likely not be caught for your actions and that makes my heart heavy.  Not because I want to see you punished, but because I want to see you healed.  I don’t know your story.  I don’t know why you did what you did today or how long you have been doing things like this or what other types of inappropriate things you may do now or in the future if something doesn’t stop you in your tracks.  I just know that punishment alone will not heal it.  So my prayer for you is this:

“Father, I saw one of your beloved children struggling today and you saw it too.  What he did hurt himself and others and I ask you to reveal that to him and give him the courage to seek the help he needs to overcome his struggle.  People think it’s funny, God.  But you are not laughing.  You see the pain and terror behind it.  Please show this man how much you love him and that he matters in this world and that you had more planned for him than THIS.  Please allow him to look at his own face in the mirror and see Jesus looking back at him.  Give him your glory in place of his shame and send him out into the world to help others who struggle in similar ways because Lord, you and I both know, there are FAR TOO MANY JUST JUST LIKE HIM.”

AMEN.

Dancing With My Purpose

Even though I am a sensitive and emotional creature, I would not have expected to leave a 25-minute dolphin show at Sea World with ambivalent tears filling my eyes.  It just didn’t seem to fit the commercial spectacle that enters my mind when I think of Disney and all that engulfs its grandeur.   I was expecting a few thrilling dolphin tricks and cheeky drama peppered with corny jokes.  But I walked away from my seat with a more pronounced presence of some of life’s most quiet, yet glorious triumphs and my deepest longings, some of which will serve a life sentence in my body as such.  

The show was presented as a story, told with song and dance.  I watched the dancers move with grace as they performed in and out of the water.  Some of the dancers were dressed as beautiful birds and were attached to cables that allowed them to blow through the air with such finesse that one might briefly forget that humans were not made to fly.  They did things that didn’t seem possible and I kept thinking what a unique and wonderful job they have.  Not every person can say that they dance with and ride dolphins or do acrobats and fly through the air several times a day for a living!  You know that whoever does that job didn’t just stumble upon that.  They are doing what they were meant to do with reckless abandon.  That brought me comfort to see people doing what they love and it gave me hope that my daughters will always follow their hearts with the careers they choose, knowing that if they trust their purpose and their gifts, everything else will fall into place.  

I know the prison of wasting God-given gifts on a job that doesn’t fit those gifts.  I also know the freedom of walking away from such a job and the safety net it provided and not looking back.  Years ago, I took a leap of faith from a secure job at a time when I most needed the money and security of that job and traded it for an inferior salary.  But what I got in return was a confirmation that I was meant to bring encouragement and hope in the dark and lonely places of this world - and there will never be a shortage of dark and lonely places.  That leap of faith brought me face to face with my true purpose in life and reunited me with some of my deepest passions:  people, creativity, writing and so much more.  I will never be the same after being placed in nursing homes environments to plan parties, do exercise programs, go on outings and leisure rides, listen to amazing stories that bathed me in humility and so much more.  I made many lifelong friends and even though most of them have passed on, I carry them with me and am a better person for having known them.

I had no idea at the time how much I would be changed and affected by that one decision.  It wasn’t just the job itself that changed me.  It also changed my relationship with God.  He found me in a desperate moment and gave me an opportunity to change my circumstances but it was not going to come without a risk.  By the world’s standards, it made no sense at all to take that job and its enormous pay cut.  His timing was perfect because He knew that I would not take that leap unless I had become so miserable that the risk would be worth the consequences.  The only thing He required of me was that I trust Him and His plan for me - He took care of the rest and exceeded my expectations.  I learned through that experience that He will never lead me in the wrong direction and that He wants the best for His children.  I also learned that we are often clueless as to what “the best for us” even means because we measure  it by meaningless piles of dust that will one day be blown away and forgotten.  I want to follow a plan that has meaning and that bears spiritual fruit that lasts forever.  

The current season I am in has found me at yet another crossroads in life and, true to my nature, misery and inadequacy are creeping in to entice me toward the road less traveled.  My Father knows me so well!  He knows I’m a coward and that it will take more than simple trust to get me to move.  I am like an Israelite, too busy whining about having to eat Manna in the desert to remember that I was once a slave, rescued and delivered from captivity and I am now free.  That path is calling in the same way the colorful birds, dancers and dolphins in that theme park show were calling me.  I watched them all doing the things they were made to do - some were flying, some were swimming, some were dancing and together they brought it all to life and sent it out into the world to penetrate hearts like mine.  

I had been dancing with my purpose for a while but somewhere along the way, I could not hear life’s music and I lost its lead.  When I saw those beautiful birds flying all around me like a winged ballet, I heard the music and heard my purpose calling:  “Come, take my hand again and dance with me.  No matter what song life plays - whether sad, joyful, sultry, full of rage or worship, I will lead you through each and every one.  Stay close to me.  Follow me.”  

The Gift of Being Vulnerable

He was a lively, animated young boy, only a few months away from reaching his first decade of life and I was newly married and in my late twenties.  I had seen him around before, but since I had no children of my own, I did not know him or other children who lived in the neighborhood.  If I had known then the degree to which he was about to change my life as he approached our house, I might have run inside and hid behind my sofa.  But that’s not what happened.  

The moment he said hello, I was captivated by his charm and congeniality.  He explained to us as we stood in our front yard that he recently discovered we had a mutual acquaintance and was seeking confirmation, which he received.  The conversation’s momentum took off from there.  Before I knew it, the boy and I were covering a multitude of topics and when he mentioned his favorite book, The Mouse and Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary, I gasped in pleasant disbelief at yet another thing we seemed to have in common.   I adored that book when I was his age and had forgotten that it even existed.   I hadn’t spent much time talking with children in those years and as I watched him trot back to his home at the end of our street, I remembered what it felt like to be nine years old again and how easy it was to establish a new friendship over a very brief period of uncomplicated conversation.   

It was almost nine o’clock that night when I heard the doorbell ring.  As I opened the door, there was my new friend standing barefoot in the chill of that October night, holding out his beloved copy of The Mouse and the Motorcycle.  It was a gesture that has stayed with me ever since.  I read the entire book (again) that night to secure my confidence in discussing it with him the following day.  The rest is history.

Over the next years, I would grow to love this boy, along with his five siblings and his many, many friends like they were my own children and since my husband and I hadn’t planned on ever having children of our own, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to play the role of an “unofficial aunt”.   Our lives were now filled with cherished, young souls because of this one boy.  These children helped us with projects, they spent hours in our living room drawing pictures (which I still have), they accompanied me to work to assist me in running programs and activities for residents of a local nursing home and so much more.  They filled my days with sunshine and made my heart ebb and flow in ways it never had before.  But the more I came to know the kids in my neighborhood, the more I came to know about their struggles and the painful unfairness that some of them knew all too well.  During those years, I witnessed the courage of a resilient young man who used his gift of humor and wit through a tracheostomy tube that altered his voice, yet gave him life-sustaining breath.  I was faced with having to make a decision on how to respond to a neighborhood child’s plea for $10 after being told that if he didn’t come home with some money, he would be beaten.  I visited another young and troubled boy in the hospital after he accidentally shot himself in the stomach while trying to impress his friends.  I was given several opportunities to tell that same young man how special and necessary he was in this world and had to watch in agony as he continued on his destructive path, refusing to believe he was here on this earth to do anything other than take up space.  

I remember joining a few of these kids on the corner of a busy street just days after the attacks of September 11, 2001, holding candles in one hand and our hearts in the other as cars drove past and honked to express their pride and sorrow.  I saw the worry in a father’s eyes as he shared with me that his daughter was dating an older boy who was selling drugs and only partly understood the degree of panic that a parent might feel over such a discovery.  I was given opportunities to just be present, listen and encourage these kids with their best interest in mind, yet I was sheltered from the unbearable emotional load it can place on a person when it is your own child who is in danger.  Nevertheless, I had been broken enough to be changed by the truths I now knew and my life had suddenly become saturated with the aroma of an entirely new kind of love.  If I had been given an opportunity to turn back to that fateful, October day and hide behind my sofa so that I could continue living in ignorant bliss, I would not only refuse, but throw my sofa to the curb.  These children awakened something from deep within my soul and they have taught me some valuable lessons:  1) They taught me that love is not always about feeling good, in fact it is not about feeling at all.  It is a deliberate act of “doing” something loving or “being” a loving person for someone else’s benefit.  2)  They showed me that the world is ravenous for a little love and a little goes a long way.  3) They helped me see that there was more in me to give than I realized, despite my lack of experience and many insecurities and shortcomings.

They gave me a tiny glimpse of what it means to be made vulnerable by someone else’s vulnerability and how much courage it takes to truly love.  I would never be the same after meeting that boy and the many lives he brought across my path and within a few years, my heart had been so deeply impacted by them all, that I had convinced myself and my husband to courageously enter into the chaotic and heartbreakingly beautiful realm of parenthood and we have been blessed with two amazing daughters of our own as a result.   As if my cup were not overflowing enough, these neighborhood kids also inspired me to make the empowerment and spiritual growth of youth my life’s mission.

The kids we knew then have all blossomed into young adults and that old neighborhood is now bustling with the hopes and dreams of a new generation.  Some we have lost touch with and some we haven’t.  I have returned to those streets a few times over the years for a moment of nostalgia, but there are few recognizable signs of life as we knew it not so long ago.  Even our old house looks different.  But I can still see each of their beautiful faces parading around on the streets of my heart, where they made themselves at home years ago.  It is the one place on this side of heaven where we never parted and where I can visit with them any time I wish.  

Christmas Day, 2011 - Closing Thoughts

As I look back through nearly 400 pages of my journal for 2011, I can clearly see that this year did not go as I had planned or expected.  I can’t help but laugh at myself for even having an expectation for the year when I think about all the times God has repositioned my course about as fast as I could chart it!  This Christmas was more of the same - it did not go as planned.  I didn’t have the energy that I normally have for the holidays this year and half of what usually gets done did not come to pass.  There are still boxes of decorations sitting in the basement hallway that never got put up, Christmas letters yet to be addressed and pounds of holiday chocolates that were never made or given out (a longstanding family tradition of ours).  Martha Stewart would want to punch me in the mouth.  

Those things were smaller matters though (even for a Christmas-lover like me).  What I was most excited about were our plans to make Christmas more meaningful by serving those in greatest need in our community on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but a couple of viruses kept that from happening.  I was disappointed and unprepared for that and have been sitting here trying to think of something else we could do here at home that would help my daughters appreciate the gift of Christmas more than what they received in their stockings.  

I have been reminded that these things don’t happen in one day.  They happen over the days that make up a week, a month, a year and a lifetime.  We grow closer to Christ through our daily choices of whether or not we will spend time with Him or follow His lead.  It is our attitudes and what we choose to accept that make us more grateful for His willingness to leave His throne and face the torments & discomfort of living in earthly flesh just to pardon us from atrocities we would commit against our own Savior.  

So, on this Christmas Day, we are pausing in between the presents, the naps, the sore throat gargles and Pepto Bismol shots and the meal that some of us may or may not be able to eat to look back on what we have and have not done to stay connected to the One who gives us life and who leads us beside still waters even though we sometimes have to trudge through the swamp to get there.   We take a moment to pray for the strength to make real adjustments to our faith and for the understanding of what is at stake when we choose to act apart from His will .  

Very little in this life seems to go as we plan for them to.  Even last night, as I received an Amber Alert on my phone about a 2-year old boy who had been abducted by a murder suspect, my heart sunk and as  I thought about what this boy’s family was having to wrap their minds around on Christmas Eve.  I had little hope for his safe return home as each minute passed.  But I awoke to find that our prayers had been answered and this boy was indeed safe at home.  It made me think back to a few months ago to an extra-special gift that My Father poured out on me while chaperoning a middle-school field trip to a team-building obstacle course.  When I arrived and introduced myself to other parents who were also going along, I recognized one of the dads in the group, but could not place where I knew him from.  Later, I watched him and other students shouting out encouragement to his daughter who was climbing a tower in the pouring rain.  “Go Sam!”  They shouted.  Then it hit me.  I was suddenly taken back to when Sam was in the second grade and had been diagnosed with a brain tumor after having countless unexplained seizures and other complications.  She and her family endured a highly invasive brain surgery among countless days of hardship and worry.  I had taught some of her Bible classes, brought food to their house and my daughters and I had prayed constantly for this sweet girl, who was the same age as my own daughter.  The entire church was lifting them up in prayer and doing everything we could to encourage and support this struggling family but we all still felt so helpless.  We never plan on such a thing to happen to our own children.  But Sam pulled through the surgery and the last I knew, she had been doing well.  At some point, we lost touch with this family and I had no idea she and my oldest daughter were now attending the same middle school.  But there she was - the girl we cried over, prayed for and feared for - climbing a tower in the pouring rain while her classmates and father cheered her on.  As I stood there, face streaked with raindrops and tears, shouting out her name with everyone else, I felt like God was placing a priceless gift in my hand.  We don’t always get to see how our prayers may be answered but this was a special blessing that no amount of rain could water down.  I have seen her a couple of times at school since then.  She walks with a limp and one of her arms doesn’t move so well - the unfortunate aftermath of the severe brain surgery.  I am not sure if she has other complications as a result of all that her health has been through (but I suspect she does), but what I do know is that she is a far stronger person than I will ever be and I am inspired and encouraged by her humble, yet fighting spirit.  She reminds me that “I can” when I think “I can’t” and even more importantly that “God can”  when I think “He won’t”.  

Things will never go quite as I plan for them to, and when they don’t, I need to remember that I am not the one running this thing and that I was not put here for my own satisfaction and comfort.   This was not my favorite year - it was hard and 2012 does not promise to be any better but much fruit is being sown through these difficult times for His Glory.  I may never see most of that fruit in this life, but this is not the time to reap and feast.  The reaping and feasting wait for me at the finish line.  May we all be equipped for the tasks that lie ahead of us in 2012 and offer our hands to those who fall down weary in the middle of the field.  Unexpected blessings to you in 2012!