When Lightning Strikes

I like to call it my secret place.  Though it's quite available to anyone if you know about it.  The little chapel in the woods behind my church is a little slice of peace square in the middle of crazy northern Virginia.  You can sit there for hours and never know there is chaos waiting just on the other side of the tree line.  When it's hot it provides shady respite, and no matter what, there is always a breeze.  The Spirit is alive in that place.

Today I found myself fixated by a certain tree that I guess I never noticed before, even though it is in plain view.  It was a tree that looked like it was dying if not already dead...but what most intrigued me was the bark peeling off the trunk.  While the outside of the trunk looked weathered and worn, a few strips of the bark were peeled away to reveal  fresh wood underneath.  Upon closer inspection, there was a variety of new things growing around the tree. I don't know if the tree was dead or not, but it was certainly an incubator of life around it.  Oh the analogies that went through my head!  

First, the issue of the layers of bark.  I have been participating in an online book discussion for "Grace for the Good Girl" by Emily Freeman.  We have started off the discussion talking about the "masks" we wear.   There are hundreds of women signed up for this.  That 's a LOT of mask wearing.  And we are finding ways to help each other shed them.  Kind of like peeling the bark off a tree.  

Amid all this, I was reminded of a favorite verse - Romans 12:2 - "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God - what is good and acceptable and PERFECT." (emphasis mine)

Perfect - the word that get us good girls into trouble.  I am a word buff, so I looked up the etymology of the word.  In its history it can be traced to the translation "to completely perform".  But it also has a different history - "to bring to full development".

What a comfort that brings!  God does not want us to be perfect.   He does not want us to perform.  What He wants is for us to turn to him so that we can see we are already perfect in his eyes, so he can bring us to full development.

A friend speculated that the tree had its bark revealed as a result of a lightning strike.  And isn't that just what is takes to get us to peel away the masks we wear?  Something dramatic occurs to start the process?

The good news is that when we peel back the bark on something that may have seemed dead, we can discover new life.  That reminds me of another favorite verse:

 "So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see everything has become new!" (2 Cor 5:17)

When a God Girl Goes (almost) Bad

Huh.  Who knew a simple book purchase would lead to a mea culpa? But there you have it.

A week ago I mentioned in an off-hand Face book post I had purchased a copy of the "hot" book Fifty Shades of Grey.  In the following days, several folks I know approached me publicly and privately with concern about this.  Frankly, I really didn't know what all the fuss was about.  So I dug a little deeper.  When I bought the book I only knew that a lot of moms were reading it.  And talking about it in giggles.  But they would only mention glossed over allusions to its content, no specifics.  So, when I bought it I was thinking it was more like Twilight - something to pass the time, but give no literary honor to.

But this post is not about the book, or whether I read it or not (I actually plan to return it).  This post is not about if YOU read it or not.  This post is about my experience as a Christian female who is just as big a sinner as anyone else and just as easily tempted by the fads of the world.  And it's about an example of how having other Christians in my life is a comfort and support, especially when we may be making poor choices.

My friends took a risk approaching me with their concern.  Some felt they may have crossed a line.  I'll admit I was a bit embarrassed to be caught in such a situation.  But maybe that's the point?  Their concern made me find out a bit more information and think twice before I acted.  What a blessing.  And what an example of what we are called to do as Christians.  We are not to be judgmental, but we are called to speak the truth in love.  If we can not appeal to fellow Christians about how we live our lives, then how much more difficult is it to do that effectively with those who have not experienced God's grace.

SO, as opposed to being annoyed with my friends, I am grateful for their example.  And I am hopeful that I may use that example in future situations.  I have many Christian friends who probably saw my post and made a judgment OR shook their heads but thought it was none of their business.  SO, thanks to the ones brave enough to call me on it.

Are We There Yet?

I love the first few hours of a big road trip.  The car is packed, everyone organized into their claimed area of the van.  My son opens his "car snacks" about 10 minutes away from home. Because its a road trip. And he can.  

The first hundred miles are a breeze - we don't even have to search for a new radio station.  The entire experience is one of excitement and anticipation of what adventures we will find.  Because, for our family, the road trip is as much about the unplanned side trip than the final destination.

On one trip through Wisconsin, we passed an exit sign called "Black River Falls".  Nic, only 4 at the time, wondered aloud if that meant they had a water fall.  I said, "Let's find out".  This is the picture of the falls we found.  It led to a road that led right thru Pepin, WI - birthplace of Laura Ingalls Wilder.  They had a museum.  I slammed on the breaks and pulled a big fat U-turn in the middle of the highway.  I was in Little House on the Prairie heaven.  All thanks to a random exit sign.  We have also stumbled upon things like the Iowa Speedway (yeah Rusty Wallace!) and the Covered Bridges of Madison County.  Yes, the ones in the movie.  

Because, it's all about the journey. 

What is it about a road trip that allows us to welcome and encourage unplanned side trips? And why is that so unwelcome in pretty much every other aspect of our lives?  Why is it so hard, even when we know how great it can be, to embrace and celebrate the unexpected and the unknown of the every day with the same excitement and anticipation of a road trip? 

I'd like to think we can. There are probably people that do.  And learning to do that is a journey in itself.  I used to plan my life 12 months in advance at least, and God forbid you call to tell me you were gonna be late for dinner.  It's a daily struggle, but I have tried to rely less on MY plans, and more on God's will.  Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between the two, and it's nice when they over lap.  But when they don't, I'll still have dinner waiting for you.  

We are less than a month away from a big road trip, and about the only thing I know for sure is that we are headed  to New England.  RIght now I should be figuring out places to rest our heads as we travel north.  But yet here I write.  It's not that I am not looking forward to our trip - but I am more curious about the unplanned adventures - so maybe we should just get in the car and drive.  If no one knows where we are going, then when they ask "Are we there yet?" I can stop the car and say "Yes, we are"!

Love and Marriage

Perhaps I am just being sappy - but today I have been awash in gratitude for the opportunity to share the last 14 years married to an amazing man.  He may be hundreds of miles away and the chaos of the day reigns on the home schedule - but I am comforted knowing that, even apart, it is a blessing to be part of such a special relationship.

Last night I got out the big wedding album and looked through every page remembering the joy of that day.  I found myself looking over and over again at one particular photo - and was caught by how much it really reflects how we started our journey - and where we find ourselves today.  It's not the bouquet and garter toss or the cake cutting (we were VERY polite).  Rather - it was the picture below - with the two officiants.  One a female Presbyterian pastor and one an Irish Catholic priest (complete with brogue).  There, at the beginning of our journey, was the perfect example of how our faith, even with its differences, stands at the center of our relationship.

It wasn't always obvious at first.  I don't think we really thought about it.  We knew what we were getting into after having dated for 6 years.  We had gone to church with each other for years, went thru 2 different sets of pre-marriage preparation, filled out twice the paper work, and negotiated the fine line of wedding jargon in order that our union would be seen as valid in both churches.  Then we had a really awesome party to celebrate getting through all that!

Now, 14 years and 2 kids later - we continue to participate in two different faith communities, fill out twice the paperwork, and negotiate the fine lines of our differing beliefs.  Guess not much has changed!

And maybe that's the point?  I've been trying to pinpoint the reasons our marriage has not only survived, but grown and flourished, in a world that seems determined to de-value the institution as passé.  It's not just about going to church.  I've seen long lasting marriages between people who never go to church, and I've seen divorce between active church members.  I could say our situation is the benefit of socio-economic status, luck, determination - or some combination of that.  I could say that we've had good examples to follow - of both what to do and what not to do.  That probably all plays a part.  And it's not like we have not had our share of trouble - we've dealt with economic challenges, health issues, family stress, church controversies and all the other ways life throws a curve ball.  

But underneath it all, there has always been a confidence that regardless of what the day brought, our individual faith grew by an exponential factor when we faced the day together - and so did our ability to deal with whatever God decided to send our way.  

  

Slow Leak or a Flat Tire?

Recently, I discovered I had a slow leak in the tire of my 3 month old car.  It ended up being patched twice in a week.   But before I could get it fixed, I was driving around with a bizarre electronic symbol on my dashbord  alerting me to the fact that my air pressure was low.   Mostly I just tried to ignore it.

As a result of this issue - I became a quick expert in using a tire pressure gauge.  I kept the air compressor in my car and filled up the tire whenever it got below a certain point.

Who cares, right?  

In my bizarre way of over-analyzing things, I saw this symbol of air pressure as a reflection of life.  How nice it would be to have a buzzer that went off when our lives had a slow leak!  We know when we have a flat tire.  It's obvious.  We drop everything and fix it cause we know we won't get anywhere until we do.  But those slow leaks can be easy to ignore - we keep thinking other things are more important.

A wise friend reminded me yesterday that indeed we DO have an inner pressure gauge!  The Holy Spirit  is there to guide us, and warn us when our pressure is getting low and we need to fill ourselves back up.  The problem is, much like the annoying light on the dashboard, we often just want to ignore it.

SO, as the May calendar looms and every day seems to get more ridiculous, I am taking another look and trying to patch the leak before the tire has a blow out....

A Behind-the-Scenes Peek!

I am sitting in the Narthex of my church passing time until an appointment for an MRI.   I am watching as a devoted couple in the church works on a creation of the tomb which will provide a visual guide for our congregation's journey through Holy Week.  The church secretary is here way past her official time, and the pastor is outside with tools putting up the sign promoting our service times this Sunday.  The landscape company is riding around the property getting the grass to a manageable level.  One of the saints of the church is wandering round doing all the little behind the scenes "fix it" jobs that he does.  The music director is working on the details of all the choral and instrument offerings that will be offered up.

Yes, it must be the Tuesday before Easter, LOL.  And I am just sitting here watching everyone else and loving how one congregation embodies all that we are to be and do as Christians.  We are to share our gifts with others.  We are to invite others to join us.  We are to do without expectation of anything in return.  Each doing his own part in the body of Christ.

And I am blessed just to be a small  part of it all.

My Daddy's Hanky

I am a crier.  This I can not deny.   Dating back to my younger days watching Little House on the Prairie, I was a sucker for every tear-jerking moment they put on the screen.  And, in general, I believe a good cry is therapeutic – despite the puffy eyes and raging headache that usually follow.

There has been an above average amount of tears shed the past few days.  Not on my own behalf, but on the behalf of others who are experiencing some of the deepest pain life on this earth can bring.  As a family bears the weight of watching a child live out his last days, I have found very few words that seem adequate to address their needs.  It has truly been a privilege to cover this family in prayer, and to see the response of a community to their physical and spiritual needs. 

My head is still pounding from what one friend described as “an emotionally intense morning”.   Despite forethought on my part, I still ran out of Kleenex.  And then I found myself wistfully thinking about my dad.  My dad is one of the few men who still carry a handkerchief (“hanky”) in his pocket.  As a kid, I always thought it was weird.  No one else that I knew did this.  But, truth be told, there is nothing more comforting than my dad’s hanky after a good cry.  It might not have happened very often – but I remember very vividly a few times when I was with my dad and the dam just burst open.  And there he was with his hanky and open arms.  No words necessary. 

A hanky doesn’t become useless once its wet – it dries pretty quick and you can keep using it.  No fear of running out.  Once a new one gets broken in and washed a few times, it becomes nice and soft like an old worn pair of jeans.  It doesn’t leave your eyes and nose feeling like they’ve just been scratched like paper tissues do.  

In an unrelated event – today I have also been dwelling on the word Abba and the various meanings of that word.  Jesus spoke this word in one of his moments of deepest anguish before being arrested in the Garden of Gesthemane.  People a lot more knowledgeable than me have likened this term to mean “Father” – but they acknowledge that there is no good English equivalent to express the true meaning behind this word.  Some have said it is like the term “Daddy”, while others say that terminology is a sign of disrespect.

As I think about the anguish Jesus was feeling, and I think about the anguish this family is feeling - I remember the comfort of the hanky which was often accompanied by a whimper of “Oh Daddy” .  No other words necessary.