Sisters

My sister is a bully, my sister is a pest,
My sister is the one friend I will always love the best.
My sister cheers me up when I am looking down
My sister tries to steal my favorite prom gown.
My sister can push all my buttons, drive me up the wall.
When I need an ear to hear me, she’s the one I call.
My sister is my heart, my sister is my soul
My sister will still be there, when I am gray and old.
Sisters are God’s greatest gift,
The curse He blessed me with.

Secondhand

All my life I have given things away to charity. Old clothes go into a big bag for the local mission store. Used backpacks get put in the donation bin. Books are put in a box headed for Africa. Out-grown bikes and roller skates are passed down to the next generation. I have always lived in and around a culture of giving away instead of throwing away.

Did you catch that last part? Throw away stuff. Yeah. All of that stuff that I have ‘given’ away I didn’t want or need anymore anyway. It had no value to me, and I needed the space, so I got rid of it. Sure, I recycled instead of filling the trash bin, and someone else can benefit from my castoffs.

But have you ever thought about what the people who receive secondhand things feel like? How depressing would it be to live your life only getting other people’s leftovers. What value would you place on your life if the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet were things that someone else no longer wanted or needed. In other words, the things they could have just thrown away.

Don’t read this wrong, re-using stuff, and using secondhand stuff, isn’t a bad thing. I donate to thrift stores, and then turn around and shop there just for a change in my wardrobe. But I can also go and buy new things when I want to. I get gifts and Christmas and my birthday of shiny new presents. Things that were bought for a higher prices, things of value.

We need to make sure that no one lives a completely secondhand life. There is no reason to be proud of our generosity when we merely donate used items. Taking an extra five minutes to detour to the donation center is nothing. It’s what we should do, but it doesn’t count as going that extra mile. And while it might help someone get the physical items they need, it can’t help their self esteem.

There is a movie called Freedom Writers where a teacher saw that her students (who were all expected to fail and drop out) only got the used, beat-up old books and the A students got the shiny new ones, she was infuriated. She went out and bought her students new books, and the simple act of receiving something new made a difference in their self-esteem and their attitude toward class.

When we give things away, what value do we place on those objects? How does that reflect the value we assign the people who receive our donations? I’m not saying you should stop donating old clothes and stuff. But couldn’t you be doing something more?

How often do we really give away something of value? I have donated loads of items, clothes, books, pots and pans and furniture, but I have rarely bought something valuable just to give it away. What if I changed tactics? What if, instead of buying myself a new shirt and donating the old one, I kept the old one a little longer and bought the new shirt for someone in need? What if I actually went to meet the person who received the donation, made a friend, built a relationship? Because we can’t help people by just giving stuff away, new or used. We help people by becoming involved in their lives.

Baggage

Just get over it.

Let it go.

Don't hold onto it anymore.

Leave it behind, move on.

There are about a million different variations on the same sentiment, the helpful idea we pass along to people coming out of a rough patch. At least, we hope it is helpful. But I think that the exact opposite is true.

We all have baggage, things that happened to us, things that we did, unpleasant places in our life that drag us down even though they are long over and done with. We carry that baggage with us always, it is attached to our backs like a lead weight. Some have heavier loads than others. I have seen people whose souls are nearly bent double carrying the load, and others who barely notice the weight.

Yet by and large our advice, our approach, our desire is to shed that baggage, to get over it, to move on, to let it go. As if we could forget that the bad time never happened. As if we could live without the after affects reverberating through our very being like ripples in a lake.

The only way to truly let it go, leave it behind, and 'get over it' is to get amnesia and forget it ever happened.

Our baggage is part of who we are. Our memories make us, the good and the bad. Every experience we have ever had affects us, and we cannot simply drop it by the wayside like a heavy backpack and move on without it. That just isn't possible. Our baggage comes with us where ever we go, no matter how long it has been, no matter how much we have recovered, that baggage is part of us, and we will always, always carry the load.

Our choice does not rest in leaving the baggage behind or taking it with us. Our choice rests in how we choose to carry the load, and who we choose to carry it with. Our choice about how to recover from the bad stuff is in our attitude coming out of it. Do you drag it behind you, an unwanted weight wearing down your arms, or do you strap it to your back, take possession of the pain, and set out anyway?

Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who are weary, for I will give you rest. My yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Did you notice that he didn't say there isn't a burden? Did you notice he didn't set us free from the yoke? No, we have to carry the burden. There is no other way to be ourselves but to carry our experiences with us. But there is a better way to carry the load, a way to go forward that is easier, lighter.

Jesus helps us in two ways. First, he carries the load with us. When we trust in Jesus we know that we are not alone, there is someone here, and if we ask him he will take part in the burden. After all, Jesus carried the heaviest burden of all, the cross. He's got strong arms. He can handle it.

The second way Jesus helps us carry the load is he helps us grow stronger. When we seek Jesus we learn that we have value, that we are able, that we have a purpose and a gift to share with the world. That knowledge helps us to grow stronger, to shoulder the burdens we have and learn how to carry them better. We take the experiences and learn from them. We never forget, we never drop the load, but we carry it a different way. We do not let it drag us into pity and despair but use it to fuel wisdom and prevent a repeat occurence.

So the next time you meet with someone who is groaning under the weight of a heavy burden, don't try to tell them to get rid of it or let it go. They cannot do the impossible. Instead, try to help them learn how to carry the load.

Grand Babies

Today, my family was watching a movie together, and my sister brought the three-month-old baby, up to join us. Freshly awake from his nap, my nephew was smiling and staring at everything around him. Soon, I had forgotten the movie entirely. I was too busy watching my Dad, now a grandpa, with his grandson on his knee.

Have you ever watched a parent or grandparent with their child? It is an amazing sight. I have never seen my mother or my father more relaxed, content, happy, than with the new grandbaby in their arms. He makes their faces light up, brings out the best in everyone who holds him. I think half an hour passed, and I've no idea what happened in the movie. Did Dad look like that when he held me as a baby? Was he so entranced by my presence? Did I bring him the same peace and joy?

Babies need to be held. If a baby doesn't get enough attention, it will die. We need warmth, comfort, human contact to survive. We must know that we are loved. That time spent on grandpa's knees in essential to our survival.

I cannot help but remember, with the baby in my arms, all of the times in the Bible when God is described as a Father tending His children. He is the doting parent, we are the babies held tenderly on his knees. I have never had a child of my own, but now I have glimpsed in a small part what it is like. I was entranced, pulled away from the flashy allure of Hollywood special effects, by the simple sight of my father holding his grandbaby.

We are that to God. We are the wonderful miracle he holds on his knees, makes silly faces at, gently caresses and balances as we bounce around on weak legs. He holds us with such care, paying attention to our every need, every squeak and squeal and grunt of displeasure or cry of joy. God watches us as closely as my sister watches her baby, knows the exact meaning of every sound and face we make, is entranced by our presence.

Wow. To be loved so gently, so tenderly, and so thoroughly is an amazing gift. It is, for me, proof of God. Evolution has no need of love, no interest in compassion or mercy or caring. Survival of the fittest cannot cater to emotions, cannot sympathize with pain. If we are nothing but a collection of cells, why do we care so much for each other? Why are we so entranced by the sight of a baby, why do we love to care for something that can give nothing in return?

It is not the most flattering of comparisons, to be called children. Children make messes, they cry and complain and have to be cleaned up after. They are simple, fragile creatures in need of much care, and much love. Most people want to be adults, want to rush ahead to the time when they can take care of themselves, make their own decisions, they want to be smarter, stronger, with no need of parents.

But God has told us to be like little children. Often preachers tell us that this means we need to be childlike in our faith, acknowledge that we are dependent on God, believe without questioning. Yet we also need to become like children so that we can remember what it was like to be a Grand Baby. Not everyone has had a happy family life, I know, but we all need that feeling of sitting on a parent's knees. We need to know that God is totally absorbed in us, watching our every move, amazed at the things that we do and loving every minute he spends with us. Just like my dad and his grandson.

You are loved. Compared to God's infinity, a hundred-year-old is still an infant. For God, we will never outgrow that cute baby stage. We are young and impetuous, we make mistakes and have a lot to learn. But we are loved. Loved more deeply than we can ever imagine. Remember that, know it deep down in the core of your soul. It is essential to your survival. God made you so he could love you.

Wow.

Does God Snort When He Laughs?

Have you ever had one of those days? You know the type. You start by rolling out of the wrong side of the bed, step on the cats tail, and get long claw marks down your heel. Then you spill milk on yourself at breakfast, get to work late, nearly yell at someone just because they glanced at your milk stain, and you can't find any parking spot at the grocery store that is less than a mile walk from the door. Then, all of the sudden, the front-row spot opens up. You find a clean shirt you forgot in the back seat, along with an extra twenty you can spend on a few goodies. The bad day turned into the best day.

Yeah, one of those days. But have you ever had one of those weeks? One of those months? Take that day, the one where everything went wrong with such perfect timing you know something supernatural had to have coordinated it, and multiply it by seven, or thirty.

Yeah, it's been one of those months. Everything has gone up and down with such precise timing I can't help but wonder if God was up there pressing cosmic buttons that influence the stuff that happens to me. And as he sits back and watches the chaos get sticky, and then suddenly resolve itself at the last minute, I wonder. Is he holding his sides, laughing? Does he snort when he laughs?

I'm not trying to say God is playing mean and nasty tricks to thwart our every move like some sort of mischievous sprite in a fairy story. No, I think he's trying to teach me a lesson, and he's doing it with a good dose of humor.

Because every prayer I've prayed this last month hasn't been answered, not the way I asked. But the need has been met. Everything that went wrong and drove me up the wall suddenly resolved itself exactly the way I didn't think it would.

I can't help but sit back at the end of it all, reviewing the ups and downs, and giggle a bit. And I think God is sitting there with me, patting me on the back, saying, "Yeah, it's kind of funny, isn't i? But I told you I'd take care of you. I told you not to worry. Those gray hairs, those worry lines, they're your fault. I had it all sorted out."

Bad plumbing, a truck that won't sell, a floor that is slowly sagging, an air conditioner that works when it's sixty degrees but decides to break when it hits ninety. Yeah, it's been one of those months. But as soon as the bank account looked like it would dip below zero after all the repairs, the truck sold and an unexpected check arrived, too. Fixing the bathroom is now affordable. So why can't the solution arrive just one week earlier, before the problems start?

Because then we wouldn't appreciate the euphoria of the after-the-disaster laughter. Because if the check came last week and the truck sold before the plumbing sprang a leak, I'd never have to learn to trust. If I didn't have to sit back biting my nails, waiting to see if checks cleared, I would think that I could solve all of this myself. The reality is that I am completely dependent on God for all of it. He gives and he takes, and he has cosmic, comic timing.

So if you're worrying about something, God might just be laughing. He's laughing in anticipation of the look on your face when he drops the unexpected solution in your lap tomorrow or next week. Because God loves to bless his children.

Thank you, Lord, for taking care of me and teaching me to trust in you. And thanks for the laugh. :)

Be a Leaf

Trees are amazing things. In every season they are beautiful, whether full of green leaves that make fat pockets of shade in the summer, or a lacework of delicate branches against the pale winter sky. They provide us with so many things that we need; lumber for buildings, fruit for food, and oxygen to keep us alive. Just about every part of a tree can help sustain and improve life in some way.

Have you ever thought about what trees eat? They don’t have mouths or teeth or tongues, but they ingest vital nutrients just like any other living thing. Trees have two intake methods.

One is kind of icky if you actually think about it. I mean, trees eat dirt. They have to be planted in it, and a little fertilizer, such as manure, goes a long way to helping most plants. They eat the messy stuff, the stuff that we would never touch, don’t want to think about, stuff little boys dare each other to smell. Everything that dies turns to dirt, and the dirt nourishes plant life. So in a way trees feed on excrement and death.

Yet trees also feed on the sun. They have to have light in order to photosynthesize. If you want a nice, shady tree, you can’t plant it in a dark room. Light is essential. Trees thrive on light. They grow tall so they can be closer to it, high above all obstructions. Yet their roots remain in the dirty ground.

Trees use dirt and light to create oxygen, which gives life to everything that breathes. God has built into His creation a special metaphor for us.

When you encounter the dirty things in life, what do you do with them? Avoid them, throw them away, or allow them to fester and poison you? When you encounter bad things, do you in turn give the world more bad things?

Yet we are Christians. We are rooted in his world, stuck on this earth with all of the badness, the excrement and death around us. But we also bask in the light. We reach up high, striving to see God, to be more like Him, to take in the good. We want the light.

It takes both dirt and light for a tree to create oxygen, that stuff that we can’t live without. We can take a lesson from the trees that sustain us. We need to check our habits, check our attitude, check our actions. What do you make of the things that life throws at you, and the grace of God? How do you put them together, and what is the end result? What do you produce to give back to the world?

I challenge you to be a leaf. In everything that comes your way, take it and turn it to good. Make something beneficial, something necessary. Let the light of God turn the bad thoughts, the painful experiences, the hurt and the fear to love, the oxygen of the soul. Be a leaf.

Peter's Song

Every day in the temple I stood by his side
Watching as he scorned the priest and spoke the truth with pride.
Now he stands in silence with no answer for their lies.

Who is this man? Were you with this man?
Did you follow this man?
I do not know this man.

On the roads we walked surrounded by great crowds
I saw him cast out demons and humble the proud.
Now they stand over him, bloody, beaten, bound.

Who is this man? Were you with this man?
Did you follow this man?
I do not know this man.

Those are the hands I saw end a widow’s strife,
Halt a funeral march, return the dead to life.
Now steel pierces his palms, his side cut with a knife.

Who is this man? Were you with this man?
Did you follow this man?
I do not know this man.

Healing came from him, his word could raise the lame,
Loosen a mute tongue and purge leprosy’s stain.
Now I hear him scream in agony and pain.
The whip opens his back. These wounds won’t heal again.

Is this the man? I cannot understand.
Did I follow this man?
I never knew this man.

How can it be, this death I see, after the life he lived in front of me.
How can it be, this bloody cross, everything I thought I had is lost.
Hide away in an upstairs room, let the women visit the tomb.
How can it be, these crazy words, cannot be true, should not be heard.
How can it be, this empty rock, the shepherd comes to find his flock.
I see a man out on the beach, swim until he’s in arm’s reach.
I know this man, this dead man, alive and waiting on the sand.

Who is this man? Was I with this man?
Can I follow this man?
Do I know this man?

This is the man I do not understand.
Can I follow this man
Can I be part of his plan?

I may not always understand,
But I will always love this man.
I will strive to understand,
I will follow this man.

Expectations

Yesterday evening it was ninety degrees inside before I even turned the stove top on. With three hands of bright blue flame making water boil and fish fry, the temperature rose steadily. The cat was stretched out like roadkill on the floor. I was slicker than a greased pig from sweat.

Ick. Ugh. Blech. That's pretty much how I felt. But there was a solution. The weather thus far hadn't been so bad, so we'd just left the windows open and dealt with little heat waves. But ninety degrees is my limit. Ninety-degrees in front of a hot stove = not happening.

So I went to switch on the air conditioning. The machine gave a start-up rumble. The fan started cranking. Air started moving through vents. I quickly closed all of the windows and went back to my cooking, knowing that in a few minutes everything would start to feel better.

Twenty minutes later, and the thermostat hadn't changed one tenth of a degree. I put my hand over the vent. The air was moving, alright, but it was warm air. Warm as the air outside, and full of icky humidity.

It completely wrecked my evening. I got snappy with my best friend and nearly broke a dish in frustration. All because I never got to cool off. I hate heat. It gives me a headache and makes me uncomfortable which makes me grumpy and a bit of a bear to be around. But none of that is any real excuse for bad behavior and a bad attitude.

The thing is, I have lived without central air for several years now. It was going to be a nice treat to have it this summer in my new place. I have cooked in ninety-plus conditions before without any trouble.

So what was the problem? My expectations. I expected to be able to cool down, so when I couldn't, I got mad. I was unsatisfied all evening. I would have been happier if I'd never even had the option of air conditioning to disappoint me.

How often do we let our expectations dictate our moods? When something doesn't happen as you think it should, you get angry, get grumpy, and act out. When things don't go as planned, our attitudes foul up to. Yet if we had had no plan, we wouldn't care.

Step back, take a deep breath, and readjust to the new situation. It is still a skill that I am learning. I have met few precious people who have mastered the art of taking disappointed expectations in stride. Scoop up the broken pieces, make a new plan, and move on.

After all, this is what God does for us all the time. We never live up to his desires for us. We never do things exactly as he wants. But he doesn't let us go, doesn't give up and send us away to wallow in our own failures. He stands by us, helps us pick up the pieces, and move forward. It's the story of life, from the beginning to the end of creation, we'll be learning to overcome failed expectations.

But if we don't, if we can't learn to take what we get and move on, if we wallow in what should have been, moaning about how the air conditioning won't work instead of moving on to new ways to stay cool, we'll be stuck a self-destructive cycle of misery. I don't want to live there.

So dear God, help me learn to endure the heat.

Up or Down?

Falling
Can be fun
Falling
Is free and easy
But falling
Leads to landing
Crashing
Which hurts.
Falling
Isn’t good
But landing
Is worse

Climbing
Is hard
Climbing
Takes a lot of work
But climbing
Leads to the top
To rest
Which is good
Climbing
Is not easy
But in the end
It is better

Than crashing
Landing
Falling
Falling is scary
Climbing is too
Because we know we might fall
And falling
Is easier than climbing

Which is better?
That which is easy
That which is hard
We cannot escape
One or the other
Climbing, Falling
Pain and sweat
Falling, Climbing
Living
Where do you want to be in the end?