Thanks

One of the perspective changes I had while Noah was in the hospital, and then since he passed away, is one of thankfulness.

Growing up as a Catholic kid, it was regular practice to give thanks to God for each meal, pray every night for family, friends, neighbors and strangers, and say the words of the "Lord's Prayer", offering thanks and seeking His hand and guidance for each day.  

Somewhere deep down within my heart I've always known giving thanks, showing appreciation, and having a heart and mindset of gratitude, leads not only to a better life in general, but is innately how we were designed, the act of it one of worship allowing us to see God's heart more purely.  

A lack of thanks is precisely why I believe many in the first-world are over-stressed, excessively busy, and self-medicating, no matter the drug of choice.  It's also why I believe God and faith in Him are afterthought, if thought of at all.

And I know, because when I turned 15 and left the Catholic church for "churches" that I thought were The Way, I also left the practice of reciting the Lord's Prayer regularly, being told and believing, it was a religious practice to simply recite prayers out of habit.  For a time my prayers were ramped up with more expression, a bit more volume, being told my expression and explosion matched the amount of my faith.  It's funny how looking back, and having been there at the time, that is living in my own head and heart, it never really felt right to boss God around, commanding Him this and that in Geeeeee-zus' name.  But over time, that became rote, as well.  But in those circles, it's not rote, but rather celebrated as super-faith.

Today, I'm more than thankful I was raised in the Catholic church during my formative years because the experience laid a firm foundation for my faith and how to recognize "trends" in "christianity."

For years, instead, I just had conversations with The Lord, talking to Him throughout the day, upon waking, every night.  Always giving thanks at meals, lacing thankfulness into the day, but still, if I stopped to pray about someone or something in particular, I was still asking for something, something I wanted, an outcome which would benefit me and mine, or you and yours.

And He does want us to, there's nothing wrong with asking.  It's not that we aren't supposed to ask.

The problem is, some seasons in my life have been solely based on asking rather than always based on thankfulness, no matter what.

Since having Noah and losing him, I've still had seasons where my attitude isn't gratitude on a daily basis.  Discontent, longing for purpose, wishing I knew what I was here for, wanting less stuff, wishing I could encourage others officially through "ministry", believing it to be a job description at times rather than a way of life, wanting less, wanting more, wanting different.  

Five years ago I introduced Emily to The Lord's Prayer, dissecting it, showing her how it begins with perspective, God first, then us and our needs.  She memorized it on the way to school in the car over time and is now helping me teach it to Ryan.  The whole chapter of Matthew 6 is one of my favorites, permanently marked with a ribbon, because it's practical insight from the Creator of the Universe for our day to day existence...yet, at least in my 27 years in Evangelical Christianity, I've never once been told to pray that prayer daily, because it may become rote or religious. 

In addition to saying and typing it,  I also love the motion of pen on paper in writing it...

So on this morning, I've decided to do what's not the trend, to pray the way I knew as a child to be uncomplicated and focused on The One who knew the answers, whether I ever did or not.  Today.  Not only am I going to start out with The Lord's Prayer, not a quote un-quote Catholic prayer (and thank God they have kept it alive!!!), but one Jesus taught anyone who would listen in order to have a life of perspective.  I'm going to pray it with both gratefulness AND religiosity, religion, simply being a word to describe a conscientious activity with great meaning.  

I'm thankful Jesus was forthcoming in these instructions of how to pray, not answering with another story or parable.  It's plain and clear.

Give thanks.

*If you'd like to join with others practicing the art of thankfulness, we'll be writing about Thankfulness on our blogs every Monday morning for an undetermined time frame and would love to read yours, as well.  We aren't setting up a "linky" thingy, but rather are simply exercising the art of writing, and writing specifically about being grateful.  

Here's a post from my friend, Elizabeth Jackson.
And here's one from my friend, Heidi Jo. 

Lessons from Spain (and other European countries): Ministry Happens in a Bar

I have a new friend who is sassy.  She's also brilliant, sensitive, wise, and discerning, humble and modest, and a fantastic listener.  She is British, 100%, as in, her parents are English, she was born in England, and so that makes her an Englishwoman.  Ryan kisses the back of her hand every time he sees her and addresses her as "Princess."  And she's a girl totally, madly, deeply in love with her Savior.  She is teaching me so very much.

Being from the other side of the Pond, she also likes Scotch, or Bourbon, or Gin, or one of those drinks men who are 60 or older sip in smoky wood paneled clubs with leaded glass windows where Englishmen meet amongst walls lined with leather bound books and trophy deer heads from plaid clad weekends on the hillsides of Europe.

This very statement made some readers wonder if my friend is really even a Christian...seriously, raise your hand if your remember Jesus' first miracle.

Anyway, being a SAHCMFTBIA (Stay At Home Caucasian Mom From The Burbs In America), I've never really embraced my ethnicity one way or another.  Just this morning I had to fill out a form and check the vanilla boring nondescript box labeled, "Caucasian."  Before I was married I at least told people how my maiden name means, "Bible" in German and then I'd break out into "Stille Nacht" or count to 10 in German just to show I still had a little in me.

Since meeting my new British friend, my eyes have been opened a tad more to faith in other parts of the world.  Oh, I've been on missions and studied missions and have traveled for both ministry and pleasure in several parts of the world.  And I know from both studying and travels about major world religions, as well as how Christianity differs from culture to culture, and how cultures differ due to religious influence.

But a few months ago while I sipped a glass of red and my British friend her drink of choice, pouring our hearts out to one another about everything under the sun, she told me how, from living in America for 30+ years, American Christianity and European Christianity vary greatly...

...not in the Message of God's love for mankind, but in the cultural message, which often muddles the Everlasting Message profanely.

In Europe, at least in Britain, she said the Pub on the corner is where people talk about love and life and ups and downs, you know, kind of like a "small group."  It's not demonized as a place to just get drunk, like "Spring Break '89", but rather a place to open up and share life.  It's like, oh, could we say, church.

A forbidden fruit mentality has been fostered in this nation for 100's of years, setting up bars and alcohol as something to be pursued in anything other than moderation, putting an age on it as if that makes a person mature and responsible, and slapping a party mentality on it.

The funny thing is, over the last year or so I've spent quite a bit of time with women who have reached out, seeking an ear, belly up to a bar.  Women who have been hit by their husband, others controlled "Sleeping With the Enemy" style, divorced, separated, suffocating in loveless marriages, some just crying out to be loved by their workaholic husbands, not the men they originally had fallen in love with...women pouring out their hearts over their dreams for their children, their fears, their own personal dreams and aspirations, and the brokenness of their realities.

And we cry, and stop, and pray, right there, belly up, holding hands, eyes closed, seeking God's direction and healing in every situation.


My dad asked me why I couldn't just go to Village Inn, instead...

...ummmm, gross, I just barfed a little typing "Village Inn".  

I'm not trying to fit a conventional ideal of what a woman who loves God with her whole heart and also happens to be in ministry, looks like.  And, I'm also not trying to shock anyone just for shock value.

I'm actually quite tired of the banter and pleasing and grieved to my core of all the talk ABOUT so many other THINGS within Evangelical "Christianity" rather than THE ONE THING, the only true thing, which is:

God is totally and completely in love with you.  That's all.

I don't go to Village Inn because it's gross.  I don't even think I'll choose VI when I'm 89.  If a woman asked me to meet there because she wanted to pour her heart into mine, to see if I'd be a listening ear, then of course I'd go to Village Inn...to listen to her heart.

But that's not where these amazing women have asked me to meet them.  They have asked me to meet them at bars, for a drink, where we can just talk.  Can "talking" happen anywhere else?  Duh.

But if I am to embrace my heritage, then I'm guessing some of my Irish, Scotch, German, Swiss, French, and English ancestors likely had church in Pubs, way back when, across the Pond.  And I'd venture to guess their hard-working lives were more authentic and vulnerable than the facades of perfectionism Evangelical "Christianity" has set up here in the "New Country."

And if I'm to truly embrace what it means to lay down my life and follow Christ, to allow my life to be a source of His love poured out, in spite of me, then I also need to embrace the beauty that sometimes women's ministry happens in a bar.

And 10 Things I Love About Me

So, last fall I was really humbled to be part of an intimate retreat weekend in Austin, Texas.  I relished in hearing the stories of the women I had never met, as well as cherished the opportunity to reconnect with the girls I knew from various times in my life.  To be honest, just be away from everything and have girl time was what the Doctor ordered.

I love girl time.  (Written language is inadequate a tool for me to convey how much I love time with girlfriends...)

Kristin Armstrong shared some of her own story during our weekend, with authenticity and vulnerability.  She's a fan of Brene Brown, queen of vulnerability, but not only that, she's a fan of girlfriends and especially a fan of when we as women come together and thrive in our uniqueness. 

I still carry many treasures from that weekend, but one I keep coming back to is how Kristin asked each of us to think for a while, to remember way back when, to our first memory of really feeling alive doing what we loved to do.  Like, "when you were a kid, what was your favorite thing to do?" type of question. 

And then, basically, what your first memory of your favorite thing was is how you were designed/wired/created...how God made you..."what you would thrive in being when you 'grow up'."

My memory of when I first felt alive was on the playground in elementary school.  I could picture it clear as day, and I could see myself, gathering girls.

Photo: www.katu.com "Portland Park Series"

I wanted everyone to belong.  My heart hurt when other girls felt left out.  I still remember the names of some of my classmates...the ones other kids made fun of for different clothes, different ticks, different skin color.

I felt most alive and the deepest joy when swinging on the monkey bars or climbing the Rocket Slide with all the girls.  It made my heart happy when we ALL played Chinese jump rope or Double Dutch, taking turns.  Even though only two could go at a time, I loved taking turns on Wall Ball, Tether Ball, and on the swings.

The 80's were good on the playground.  Photo: www.egotvonline.com

For me it wasn't hard to believe we could all just get along.  Even if we had disagreements, I knew deep down in my heart the playground was for everyone...Krissy, Swati, Kari S, all of us.

It wasn't just for the whoevertheheckdecideswhoispopular kids.

And so, even if some days I sit on my floor and cry because I'm stuck and not in love with myself, because of your encouragement and God's love for me, I woke up to this reminder this morning.

Here are 10 Things I Love About Me and I have even gone to my counseling appointment, wink, wink:

1. I am a peacemaker.  "You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight.  That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family."
2. I love to build bridges between women.
3. I actually do love to play on the playground.
4. I love listening to the stories of other women.
5. I love to see a woman living in complete freedom...to me, it's one of the most beautiful sights to behold.  There's nothing she can't do...
6. I love how much my heart is capable of loving my husband and kids.
7. I love time with girlfriends.
8. I'm really good at making soup from scratch.
9. I love to sew and design and create clothes and jewelry and decor.
10. I will always believe the best about you, because we all have a story...

*I won't lie, writing this list took me a lot longer than my "hate" list.

I challenge you, not just to do this exercise, but because it will encourage others, as well:  in the comments, write 10 Things You Love About Yourself.

Ready, go...

A Whole Lotta Tongue in Cheek

Recently someone I know posted a picture of himself being baptized as an infant.  His caption had some sort of smart ass sentiment about "water boarding" and "for shame...I was just a baby." 

It got me thinking.  I started attending church at the same age he was in the picture.  That was about 41 years ago.  And church has looked like many different things over that time, including the last two years where I haven't gone to church really at all...

Why did my parents do it?  Why was I given a head bath at a mass in 1972 in Ohio, one winter day?  Why did they choose Catholic over Lutheran over Episcopalian over Baptist over some other brand name denomination?  Why did I go to CCD, First Confession, First Communion, Confirmation?  Why did we give thanks before meals, pray before bed, talk about our problems and apologize, talk to God and about Him with one another?  Was it just so I could wear pretty dresses once a week?  Was it strictly out of social obligation?  Was it because our grandparents expected it or to escape the gates of hell?  Why did we "leave" the local catholic church, anyway, and how is it we wound up in the different kinds of churches since then?  How come some people danced and clapped their hands while others were solemn? 

One attribute I wholeheartedly embrace as a middle-child is that of peace maker.  I will believe the best in you to a fault, and so, I imagine that next to historical conviction, my parents raised me with faith not to cram their own beliefs down my throat or so us girls would fit a mold and be perfect, but so we would always hear from them and know from God that God is good, God made us, He loves us without condition and wants us to love others the same way because life is complicated, messy, and painful, and that He will come back for us one day, which is a good thing, not scary.

I've heard there are worse things parents can do to a child...I'm grateful my parents chose this form of "abuse" as some would see it. 

How tragic...a child was raised with loving parents who made mistakes and were learning it as they went along seeking Wisdom smarter than themselves, but deep down, at the end of each day, knew God was real even though she couldn't see Him, and that He loved her.  For shame...

The peacemaker middle-child in me isn't a score keeper.  On our family faith journey we haven't always done everything right.  On my personal journey with the Lord, I couldn't even begin to tell you all the mistakes I have made...you can do the math:  I dedicated my life to serving the Lord on May 10, 1987...if on average I screwed up 3 dozen times a day, to be conservative, that adds up to a whole lotta thankfulness for Grace and Forgiveness, that's all I know.

Last night Emily and I snuggled on the couch and watched, "Parental Guidance."  All parents and kids should see this film together.  There are some fabulous lessons all around.  In one scene Billy Crystal and Marisa Tomei, father and daughter in the film, are in the kitchen late at night after the culmination of a weeks worth of fighting and disagreements and misunderstandings and major underlying passive aggressive anger from the past.  The film is a comedy, but I was bawling.  Tomei's character had set up her life in such a way to do everything opposite from the way her parents raised her, a clear statement to them that they pretty much sucked/aka she could do it better, without their help, and quite perfectly, thankyouverymuch.

There are things I have done differently as a young woman, mom, wife, and follower of Christ than my parents, and their parents, and their parents before them.  And I've done many things the same.  Good and bad, because I am a human.

I know I will make many more mistakes in parenting as long as I'm on this earth.  I've already screwed my kids up a little, I'll admit.  But if when they are older the worst thing they can say about me is that I prayed and asked God's help in how to show them how much I loved them, well, then, I'm willing to take that risk.  We cannot force our children to believe what we believe, and it very well may break our hearts if they don't, but we can love them...yep, that part is up to us.

Just make sure you love them with all of your guts...because holding some of your love back just because it may rip out your heart will only leave you never really knowing what it's like to fully live.

Loveolution

We need to start a "Loveolution."  Actually, we need to carry out what was already started years ago...like, thousands of years ago, where EL. OH. VEE.  EE. was the headline news, not the other crap on TV, but news worthy in that it was spoken and acted out, person to person, in real life, God to man. The kind of news where people ran from town to town to tell how their lives were radically changed, for eternity...

Love + Revolution = Loveolution

Love is, according to the "Free Dictionary":

• A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.

Revolution is, according to the "Free Dictionary":

• 1a.  Orbital motion about a point, especially as distinguished from axial rotation: ie, planetary revolution about the sun.
• 1b.  A turning or rotational motion about an axis.
• 1c.  A single complete cycle of such orbital or axial motion.
• 2.  The overthrow of one government and its replacement with another.
• 3.  A sudden or momentous change in a situation.

So, picture this:  all of us, every. single. one. of. us. orbiting, or rotating our lives, NOT around our own intentions, motives, or seemingly selfless behaviors, but around LOVE.  Loving God first, loving ourselves the way we've been created, and loving everyone else with whom we come in contact.

INTENTIONAL LOVE.

It's not easy.  Some don't, or won't, love God.  They have too many walls to even believe He is good, or that He exists at all.

Others, like I've done in the past, don't, or won't, love ourselves, grateful for all our quirks and imperfections that add to the beauty and variety of life.

And loving others...even the crusty weird neighbor or crotchety relative who is negative, negative, negative?  Even that one?  Ummm, that's not easy.

Yeah, but who said it's supposed to be easy?  We want it to be, but loving is tough stuff, because we all have rough edges and we've all been hurt.

Our "underlying oneness" from the definition above is that God made us all...

We need a Loveolution.  

Before any more laws are passed and any more hate is spread, we need to literally STOP.  I don't give a rip about what kind of government is or isn't in place, if we don't have love, it doesn't mean jack squat.

Imagine if all the hate in the world was overthrown with a Loveolution?

With this previous election, there were days where I could taste bile in my mouth because of how nauseous I was from all the hatred being spewed...and from people who use my Lord's name...in vain.

Don't pervert my God!

People think using God's name in vain is what people yell at the opposing teams at a sports match, or at the guy who cut you off in traffic.

Using God's name in vain is claiming to be His yet not walking in LOVE.

Stop.  Don't do it.  How sickening that the name of Jesus Christ is being perverted by people spreading hatred!  It's opposite of Who He was, Who He is, and Who He is supposed to be in us.

I'm a Christian woman.  This means I am a forgiven human who has an intimate relationship with the Creator of the Universe because of His selfless action of unconditional love, God becoming a man in order to know what earth-life really is like, outside of His physical presence.  This doesn't mean I am perfect or ever claim to be.  It just means I'm not using His name in vain, for my own selfish ambition, but out of thankfulness for being saved from my sorry self.

Religion is death.  Don't equate a relationship with God with the word "religion."

A relationship with Almighty God is awesome and intimate and holy and beautiful, and messy on our part, but moldable and completely attainable here on earth, not because of our actions or behaviors, but because God loves us, each of us, and extends that love and grace to us every day.

I mean, what would happen if there was a sudden and momentous change in the earth towards Love?  You know, praying in school, to God, doesn't hurt anyone.  It doesn't hurt anyone in any religion that does claim God.  And it won't hurt the people in school who don't believe in Him because it won't affect them, right?!  I mean, they don't think He's there, so, let's just bring it back.

I heard today that the Mayans never foresaw December 21st as a physical end of the world as we know it, but rather a spiritual end of the world.  Wow.  That's much more profound than all the previous town criers who have even written books or purchased air time for their untimely foreshadowing.

The world I live in today is in pain.  It's dark.  Sometimes it's difficult to see the Light, but He is there, shining, moving in hearts, one at a time.  I won't live in fear because I have hope and I know there's more to this life than what I see.

However, in the meantime, I live here.  I breathe the same air as Jesus once did and as horrible dictators do in war-torn countries.  We all spin on the same physical axis and orbit around the same sun, but we aren't all revolving around the same Love agenda.

We need to, though.  We need a Loveolution.  And we need one NOW.  No more wasting time.  The time is NOW to start loving God, loving ourselves, and loving our fellow man.

We need a Loveolution.

Love, SPREAD IT!

God's agenda has always been LOVE.  The Devil, on the other hand, has never been anything other than an asshole.

Hate evil.  Cling to what is good.  Do not live in fear but know that Perfect LOVE casts out all fear.

A LOVE REVOLUTION.  It's time we got started...