Poser

"Don't just pretend to love people. Really love them." Paul to the Romans (New Living Translation)

I've always tried to be a face value person: what you see is what you get. Maybe that was the problem yesterday...

Long day at work. 94 degrees. Air conditioning in the van...out of commission. Whole family in the hot van... lots of noise...my younger two bickering incessently. We arrive at my daughter's last soccer game, set up our chairs and proceed to sweat and get blown over by 35 mile an hour sustained winds. Last week it as 55 with a wind chill; this week it's record highs, typical prairie winds and lots of humidity. Welcome to Iowa.

Anyway, sitting at my daughters game, everything was bugging me: the dad on the sidelines "coaching" loudly, the beads of sweat trickling down my back, the wind, the arguing kids, even my husband (who hadn't really done anything)...I was even annoying myself. I was snippy with the kids, snippy with Brad, and not at all pleasant to be around. It dawned on me later (sadly too late), that the lady next to us could have certainly heard and seen my hissy fit behavior and general grouchy demeanor. If someone asked her what she thought of me, I'm afraid the answer would be scary. For that hour, at that game, what she (or anyone else paying attention) saw, was a crabby mom and disrespectful wife. Not much love. Not much joy. Not much of anything good.

I entitled this post "poser" because I've never wanted to be one. Well, guess what, yesterday proved that I'm no poser. But what you saw if you were looking, was what you got and it wasn't a pretty picture. Maybe some posing wouldn't have been all that bad. Or maybe if I would have taken two minutes to think outside myself, my attitude and behavior could have been adjusted. But I'll never know what could have been because I was too wrapped up in me.

Yesterday morning I came across this verse "Don't just pretend to love people. Really love them." from the book of Roman's. I thought of it all day, and yet when I went to the game, really loving people was not in the forefront of my brain. Me, myself and I were in the forefront and the back and all the space inbetween. When I woke up this morning, my behavior and this verse were staring me in the face. As I reflected, another Bible passage came to mind...let me paraphrase it...

Love stays cool even in the heat.

Love speaks kindly even when correcting.

Love doesn't wish for something it can't have-like a new car with a/c.

Love doesn't think it's being cheated just because life isn't always perfect.

Love doesn't demean or degrade or humiliate others.

Love doesn't get angry over trifles.

Love tries to forget others wrongs and see the best in them.

Love isn't happy when others are hurt or suffering or embarassed, but wants to bring relief.

Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails, even when I do.

May you and I be true lovers today.

My Town

Driving down the road I noticed the green leaves getting bigger and brighter by the day. Unleashed by the warm weather and gentle rains, the earth is alive with tulips, lilies of the valley, daffodils and flowering crab apples. Laughing, playing some combination of touch (with a little tackle) football, they only stopped long enough to move out of the road for the car. More were riding their bikes with baseball gloves & bats slung over their shoulders. Enjoying life in safety with freedom that few children today are able to experience. Kids on Sunday afternoon in my town.

Yep. My town.
For 18 years now (since April 25, 1992) this sleepy little Iowa village has been my town.
Slow paced...there's only a handful of stops signs and no lights in our town.
Odd habits...like the whistle that blows at 7 a.m., noon, 1 p.m. and 6p.m. every day.
Quirky people...like the man who rides his ancient bike at a poky pace everywhere-winter, spring, summer and fall-...or the neighbor who mows her lawn at least 3 times a week...or the guy who named his illness "Arthur".
We notice when something's different in our village...a change in someones house, a new vehicle, a new resident, visiting family.
We know one anothers habits. Like when we saw our elderly neighbors kids at her home on a Sunday morning when they'd normally be at church, we knew there was something wrong.
We know who runs in the morning and who runs everyday at 6 pm...we know the guy with the dogs.
We know who to call when we need advice with our plumbing or we want to know how to can applesauce or freeze sweet Iowa corn.
Emergency vehicle sirens are a rarity and usually cause for concern. No airplanes flying overhead, just a host of birds. The loudest noise we hear day or night, is the whirr of the dryers at the grain elevator.
I've witnessed this community come together to support people with ill children, people who've suffered loss and experienced tragedy. When it was time for a new library, the community united.
We still have a little parade to honor our veterans. We celebrate Flag day. And we make a big deal out of a new local swimming pool. Churches observe Lent together and share Vacation Bible Schools and youth groups.
Not everything in my town is perfect. I've witnessed abuse in this little town. I've seen marriages fall apart and families decimated. I've been judged in this town for how I live. I've felt like I didn't and would never fit in this small town.

But, then, do any of us fit anywhere?

There are days I'd give anything for a ten minute drive to Target (the nearest one is over an hour) or more choices in restaurants or simply anonymity.
But I'd be giving up so much if I left my little town.

No, my town is worth more than convenience.
And thankfully, after 18 years, I've embraced this quirky little midwest town with all it's oddities, absurdities, joys and see the richness of community that it holds so dear.

Just a little...

Rain beating against the windshield, I drove down the back roads hurrying to my destination. Pouring over the past, consumed with the pressures of the present and turning over the possibilities of the future, my mind raced as I listened to my ipod.

Then the song started playing. I know I've heard it before... many times. But this time it was different. How could I have missed the words? How could I have missed the meaning? Well, maybe not John Hiatt's intended meaning but The Writers meaning. Driving down the lonely road, this time, the song felt like a serenade being sung straight to my heart.

Have a Little Faith written by John Hiatt

When the road gets dark
And you can no longer see
Just let my love throw a spark
An' have a little faith in me

An' when the tears you cry
Are all you can believe
Just give these loving arms a try, baby
An' have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me

An' when your secret heart
Cannot speak so easily
Come here darlin' from a whisper start
Have a little faith in me

An' when your back's against the wall
Just turn around an' a you will see
I'll be there, I'll be there to catch your fall
So have a little faith in me

Cause I've been loving you for such a long time, baby
Expecting nothing in return
Just for you to have a little faith in me
You see time, time is our friend
'Cause for us there is no end
All you gotta do is have a little faith in me

I will hold you up!
I'm gonna hold you up!
So have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me

"We live by faith, not by sight." 2 Cor. 5:7

"Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, 'I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!'" Mark 9:24

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." Matt 17:20

"The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:17

Mom

This is a re-post with a few changes...



A Woman at Rest
I'm not talking about a sleeping woman. I'm not talking about a confident woman. I'm not talking about an accomplished woman. I'm not talking about a calm woman. I'm not talking about a passive woman. I'm not talking about a positive woman. I"m not talking about a perfect woman.
I'm talking about a woman at rest.
She speaks truth and sees even the most difficult situations clearly.
She doesn't deny hardship or pain and allows emotions as they come.
She's not always quiet and demure but there's something in her demeanor which exudes peace.
She's not necessarily okay with who she is, but she's great with who God is and it shows.
No need to control, contrive or manage...God's got it.
No need to hang on to the past or worry about the future...God's got it.
She can live in the moment...good, bad or ugly... because God's got it.
She is a thing of beauty and a rarity.
There are many imitations in our world and churches, but few women who truly rest.
If you're privileged enough to know one, thank her today for making her world a better place.

I'm blessed and privileged to not only enjoy a woman at rest, but call her Mom. Love you, Mom.

At a loss...

i'm at a loss...

for words?

no, not usually.

for thoughts?

almost never.

for emotions?

absolutely never.

for what then?

for answers?

most definately.

for ways to respond?

yep.

laying down myself day after day.

giving up self for More.

More what?

more good?

no, More God.

Letting go...

From the time we're born, we're letting go. From the cradle to the grave we let go of--well--eventually everything in our lives ending with our own bodies. We let go of ourselves...who we were, who we thought we were, who we thought we'd be. Hopefully, as we grow and mature, we let go of prejudices, dogmas, and judgements. We let go of people as they leave our lives through moves or choices or death. We let go of our children. We let go of dreams. We let go of homes, cars, clothes...all the stuff of life. We let go of the boxes we've built to hold God or people. We let go of the walls that either keep others out or ourselves in.
There are some things that aren't too hard for me to let go of, and others, the mere thought of giving them up makes me panic. Yet, eventually, all will be stripped away. Will I willingly let it go or will it be taken?
My kids will grow up and leave. They, hopefully, will find loving spouses and establish homes of their own. Will I let them go? I have three teenagers right now (soon to be four) and it always surprises me what I have a hard time letting go of in regards to them.
My heart's heavy this morning as I continue to let go.
But not just letting go of my kids, but of wrongs (real or perceived) committed against me, of hurts new and old, of words spoken to me and words I've uttered, of mistakes filled with shame, of past choices that I'd do anything to change...
Letting go is filled with fears for me...
fears that wrongs will go unpunished...
that healing will not come...
that reconciliation is beyond hope...
that mistakes made may be irrevocable...
So much fear.
And yet, in the end, there is no choice but to let go; to let other people's "stuff" be theirs and not take it on myself.
I'd love to end this post with a nice little happy Bible verse or cliche or meaningful song, but the truth is, letting go is just something you have to do whether it feels ok or brings any sense of comfort or relief or not and all the words in the world can't make it any easier.

***Brad just read this and said "That's what Jesus did. He willingly let it all go."

Too much. Not enough.

I'm too much...

too emotional.

too needy.

too overpowering.

too up.

too down.

too aware.

and at the same time a deep nagging sense of being not enough...

not smart enough.

not pretty enough.

not happy enough.

not faithful enough.

simply... not enough.

I'll always be too much for people and not enough.
In one sense, of course, that's not true. It's satan's ploy to render me helpless and hopeless (and frankly it works a lot).
But in a very real way, it is truth.
I am too much and not enough for other people. We all are.
There's a line from When Harry Met Sally (one of my all time favorite movies) where he tells her she's "High maintenance. Definitely. And the worst kind. You're a high maintenance who thinks she's low maintenance."
I really want to be low maintenance. I wish I was an easy going, baseball cap wearing, live life on the edge, carpe diem kinda girl. But I'm not. I'm a picky eating, obsessive, over analyzing woman who hates to sweat and looks lousy in a baseball cap.
But in truth, I'm not the only high maintenance human. As individuals, it seems we're all high maintenance. Men. Women. Children. We're all imperfect beings in desperate need.
Needing love, needing care, needing approval, needing acceptance, needing grace.
"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." ~2 Corinthians 12:8-10
So here I am today, boasting in my frailty, knowing that He is the "author and perfecter" of my faith...resting in the fact that He loves me just as I am...all too much and not enough of me.
He loves you too, friend, just as you are...