The Best Thing That's Ever Happened to You

The best thing that's ever happened to me - good grief. I've been on this earth for over 61 years - A LOT of really profound things have happened. but hands down, everything that has passed through my brain as I've thought through this one, it's been people. Not "things" or events - but people. People change everything.

My first thought was to choose to not default to Jesus. This is a writing prompt *challenge,* after all, and that's a no-brainer answer. My second thought was that choosing Brian for my life partner or becoming a mother would also feel like cheating. But also also? I have a lot more days to go and these things matter and have indeed changed the trajectory of my life, multiple times.

We don't have much say in where and when we're born, who we're born to, what that culture is or is not - but being born in a time and place and into a family and community that allowed me to begin my journey getting to know Jesus has indeed changed and impacted every single thing since that time. My thoughts and beliefs have morphed through the years. I've shed some things that once seemed irreplaceable, and I've learned and picked up new things along the way that I never dreamed would be a priority - but the constant in all of it has been Jesus. I have never stopped believing that His words, His ways, His plan for the redemption of all things is the path I am to walk. With Peter, my mantra has become, "Lord, where else would I go?" So here I still am.

Brian. He is truly the constant for me. Always. We are as different as night and day. HIs extrovert to my introvert, his networking and making friends to my hiding in the corner with the one other person that hates small talk, his risk-taking to my need for security, his 12-year-old-boy humor to my eye-rolling. But he has never once made me feel like I should not be exactly who I am or who i am striving to become. I have been in relationship with folks (both before Brian and with colleagues, friends, etc.) that hang the health of a relationship on agreement. This is not the way to health. Ever. To be fully accepted by him as I learn and grow has been everything.

Becoming a mother. There's not enough paper. In the beginning, they shut my world down. The focus of what matters slid down into a pinpoint. As they grew and became their own person(s), they've taught me that a lot of things matter that I hadn't seen or even been aware of until their needs showed them to me. After bringing everything into pinpoint focus, they then took me to a much bigger view of the world. Some of that through pain and suffering (both theirs and mine), some of it reveling in the wild, imaginative differences God places within each of us. I am a better, kinder, more whole, more respectful person than I would ever have become without the ways they have shaped me.

People. People are the best things.

The Kindest Thing

April 2 - The Kindest Thing Someone Did For You

The "kindest" thing is a daunting prompt. My life has been filled with people that have taken the time to show me kindness when they absolutely did not have to. This has been a good exercise in thinking back through the years of so many. 

A dear colleague that reached out to mentor and encourage me when, after more than 30 years, I had to sit for my professional evaluation again. I was terrified and she made that process 1,000 times less awful. 

Friends that have sat with me through some of the hardest seasons of life, not attempting to fix anything, but just listened and were a steady presence.

Many, many long walks at the lake, lunches with Dr. Pepper and chocolate while our children played like they were completely feral. These people know who they are and literally saved my life.

My mom staying with me as we brought each child home, patiently being everything I could not be. My dad telling me his high school breakup story when my high school world felt like it would never be okay again. (Spoiler: it did indeed get better.)

Friends that know exactly when to say, "You wanna meet at the coffee shop and visit?" 

Those that have patiently walked with me, answered my questions, listened to me rant and mourn as I've walked this long wilderness journey of seeing my world get both bigger and smaller at the same time. They did not have to be patient. They did not have to answer my questions. They did not have to wait for me to finally "get it" - but they have.

Friends that just know when I'm drowning and step in to help, or send a text at exactly the right moment, or a reel or a meme that we're the only two people in the world that will think it's the best.

Friends that have sent me fancy tea, a new mug, a baby Yoda, new earrings. Each of them had no idea that the timing was perfect. 

The folks on our outreach days, both those we serve with and those we're there for - especially them. With absolutely nothing to give, they give themselves. 

Each of these have taught me to never ignore the voices that tells me to call someone, to reach out when someone comes to mind, to pick up that little thing that made me think of them, to have enough flex in my schedule to have time for the unexpected conversations. 

Because we never know when that thing we said or did is the thing that kept someone's head above water for a few more hours. That gave them a reason to keep trying. That reminded them they're not the failure they feel like they are right at that moment. 

Be kind. It matters.

The Best Thing That's Happened This Year

 April 1 -The Best Thing That's Happened This Year

The best thing that has happened so far this year has been Brian's surprise 60th birthday party. I'll start off up front with the confession that I am terrible at parties and I am terrible with crowds. My husband is fabulous with both of those things and I knew he would love an event like what we ended up throwing for him. So I dove into the planning! 

My next confession would be that I hate lying. And there's no way to plan a surprise party for someone you spend nearly every minute of everyday with without lying. A lot. But guess what? Apparently, while I hate it, I'm pretty good at it! 🤣

It ended up being such a joy to pull together folks that have impacted and been impacted by Brian's six decades of life. Seeing so many of these people together in one place at one time, to hear their words of joy and encouragement, their laughter as we recalled so many funny memories together --

What. A. Joy. ❤️

These people have stood with us through all manner of joy and hardship, tough times and easy, flourishing and wilderness. I was reminded, once again, that God never intended us to live this life alone. He means for us to thrive in community. And the community we have been blessed with all along the way -- it has morphed, sure, but so many have stayed the course with us. And it is absolutely life giving. 

Life is often hard, but hang on to your people. 

Even if you're as bad at it as I am, make up reasons to have a party with the people you love. Hug them. Share good food and drink. Tell them how much they mean to you, and be specific. Tell them you love them. Loud and often. Make it weird.

We may not get out of here alive, and some seasons are unspeakably difficult, but we do not have to be here alone. For this, I am grateful.

Be On Your Way

 "The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and be on your way;..." 1 Samuel 16:1

This was a tiny portion of the Old Testament reading last Sunday. It leapt off the page as I was reading it early that morning before most were up and moving around. I've talked in the past about grief. It is real and it should not be ignored. We must give ourselves time to face those emotions, to be honest about them, both with ourselves and with others. There is no shame in grief. And there is no shame in how long it might take us to move through it. So let me preface the coming thoughts by saying THAT is not what I'm musing on in this particular post.

In this section of the Old Testament reading, Samuel was still stuck in his expectations of Saul as king of Israel. He was not originally on board with the whole idea of an earthly king for Israel and spoke that to his people pretty honestly. But once Saul became king, he seemed to get on board. As time went on and Saul repeatedly showed Samuel who he was: proud, stubborn, willful... Samuel did not let go - it seems he could not move past Saul's failure. God made it clear that He was moving on - that Saul was not the king He would bless, yet Samuel was not following in step with God's next steps. And here's what we hear: "How long will you mourn?... Fill your horn and be on your way." -- Get on with reality! Not what you want it to be -- What. It. IS.

How often do you find your expectations of others to be a bit unrealistic? How often do you find yourself sitting in a deep sorrow - and truth be told, as you evaluate it, much of that sorrow is rooted in the fact that you are expecting far more from people, or maybe a particular person, than they are able to give - or have even shown a willingness or an interest in giving?

This girl. I do this.

So often.

I've spent the last several years recognizing that I need to lower my expectations of others - yet still find myself there, over and over again. I've also found that part of the reason I do that is because it begins with me -- I place extremely unrealistic expectations on my own self. Yes, there is *some* truth to the adage that people rise to the level of your expectation -- but those expectations must be grounded in reality. A portion of the Serenity Prayer that I had never heard until a few years ago says, "Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it,..." THIS is reality.

There are times that people will fail us in spectacular ways.

There are times that the future we imagined will shatter in to a million tiny, jagged pieces right in front of us. 

There will be times that we simply want what will never happen - others, with their own free will, do not do what we want and they likely never will.

There will be times that we want something, based on our own prejudices or skewed opinions or lack of knowledge, that should not be.

These circumstances, and these people, are not in our control. Ever. So what do we do?

It's okay to grieve the death of that dream, the shattering of that expectation, the confusion of realizing we are wrong. It is good to sit with it and follow it to it's root. If not, it will likely never heal, we will not grow any wiser. 

BUT...

Then what? "Fill your horn with oil and be on your way."

Do what I know to do next. Take the next step. Look at reality as. it. IS. - Not as I would have it to be. 

Facing what IS, what is the wisest next step forward? Then do that.

And keep doing that.

Samuel continued to be puzzled, even has he filled his horn and moved forward. His expectations had to be adjusted and changed on the fly, until he FINALLY saw what God was trying to show him. He stayed open. Flexible. Willing to see past his own expectations and presuppositions. To let God surprise him.

I really believe that when I'm willing to let go of all of that, He will show me things I would never have come up with on my own. Better things.

When I let people be who they've shown themselves to be, we can all move forward in reality - even when that reality may be excruciatingly hard.

I have to let go of what I expect people to be and face what they are.

I have to let go of how I want a particular circumstance to end up going, and face what is actually happening.

God is God. I am not.

So, I'll pick up my horn - and be on my way.

Perplexed

"Perplexed, but not in despair" ~ 2 Cor. 4:8 

I read this early this morning and it was exactly what this often weary, perplexed heart needed. I've spent much of my life wrestling with the need to be certain - about most everything. And while I'm learning to let go of this and rest easier in, "I don't know," I can easily find myself sidetracked when I'm not practicing mindfulness and presence.

• I want to know. 
• I want to fix.
• I want to control.
• I want to understand.
• I want answers.

But here's real life: I do not know. I cannot fix it. I cannot control it. I may never understand. I may never get an answer.

I can tuck-and-roll my way from perplexed to despair in record speed. -- OR -- I can also choose to rest in the perplexity. Perplexity may often not be the final destination, but it also will not be an uncommon space in this life. Being perplexed, confused, filled with doubts, does not mean God is not still faithful and present.

I am not God. None of us are. To think we can fully know Him is hubris. To think we are capable of controlling circumstances or other people is utter foolishness. To constantly strive to be more, and more yet again, is a battle that will ultimately kill us. Yet, we strive, don't we?

I can remain open to learning, to understanding, to the new and previously unknown. I can unclench my fists, open my hands and my heart. Let go. I can choose to speak gently to myself and others as I wait. I can choose hope, even in perplexity.

May it be so.

Perplexed, but not in despair.

Loving My Neighbor

 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Mark 10:36-37)

The one who had mercy - that's the definition of loving our neighbor. It is a love that is active. Practical. Inclusive. It is a love that gives up something of value for the sake of the other. It will consume our time. It will require that we show respect and compassion. It requires looking beyond, and putting aside, differences and instead looking squarely to the humanity, the imago dei, of the other.

Woof. This was a Word for me this morning.

I want "loving my neighbor" to be an abstract, woowoo kind of love that doesn't require much of me other than to "pray for them" -- to talk about them in quiet, concerned tones in my circle of friends at church or in Bible studies or around coffee shop tables -- with folks that are mostly like me. THAT is not love, according to Jesus. 

I want "loving my neighbor" to be spouting "the truth" on social media about them. THAT is not love, according to Jesus.

I want "loving my neighbor" to somehow include laws that dictate and leveraging power that pushes those I disagree with to the margins - or out all together. THAT is not love, according to Jesus.

I want "loving my neighbor" to leave space for casting dispersions, for judgement, for accusation. THAT is not love, according to Jesus.

I've heard my whole life, in bits and pieces, about the age old animosity between Jews and Samaritans and how Jesus was disrupting the status quo by making a Samaritan the hero of the story -- but the edges are always softened when we start looking for ways to make it practical today. It. Was. Radical. To many of His listeners, it was heretical. There was nothing soft-edged or even safe about the way Jesus crafted and told this story.

Who is my Samaritan? Who is your Samaritan? Who is almost beyond redemption in your mind? Whose sin, in my mind (in yours) does Jesus hate the most? THAT'S our neighbor.

Active. Practical. Inclusive. Respectful. Compassionate. Disruptive. Time consuming. Resource consuming. 

THAT is loving our neighbor, according to Jesus.

Learning From Job

I've been reading Job of late. In the past, this has been a tough book for me, but in the last few years, I've grown to appreciate it. As I've read this time, I've spent a little more time sitting with Job in his grief. I suppose just the act of staying alive for enough years will help us to acknowledge the reality of grief and the ways it wrecks us -- and eventually comes for us all. Job did not try to get through this with a lot of positive thinking. He did not look for silver linings. He did not ask for "good vibes only". He did not consider angels getting their wings. He wept. He mourned. He screamed at the heavens. He demanded (though he did not get) answers from God. He walked unimaginable grief out and through with honesty and transparency. And he did not take any crap from his "well-meaning" friends.

I've also spent time listening to what his friends had to say, once they decided that simply being present with Job in his grief was not enough (Spoiler alert: it was enough). They are just packed full of wisdom, aren't they? (*still needing that sarcasm font*). I think one of the things that has always bothered me about this book is just how much of what his friends spout sounds eerily similar to things Christians still spout today when confronted with the trauma and tragedy of others. It is so easy for us to "speak the truth" without stopping to consider that we just might be wrong this time - without stopping to consider that our words are ripping open fresh wounds again and again - without stopping to consider that we are. not. God. 

"Speak the truth in love." -- I cannot even count the number of times I've heard this verse quoted only to be followed by words that do not, in fact, speak or show any love, but are rather an excuse to shut down a conversation or put someone "in their place". I'm quite certain I have been among the numbered guilty. When our words alienate, when they kill conversations and relationships, when they are where curiosity and imagination go to die, when they isolate others rather than bringing them in, we've become "friends of Job" and are truly no friends at all.

I'll stop with words I read today from the lips of Job: If only you would be altogether silent! For you, that would be wisdom. Your maxims are proverbs of ashes; your defenses are defenses of clay.

If only.