Wordless Wednesday

A beautiful image of God sheltering us in the shadow of His wings.

Second Chance

I love this organization on so many levels.
Even the title "People of the Second Chance" makes my eyes water.
Sounds like a group Jesus started.
So, when I was choosing what t-shirt to wear today in this weather sent straight from the Virgin Islands, My fingers brushed across the one with those words proclaimed across the front.
I profess to be one of those people but do I really even know what it means?
Harboring a hurt that I claim to have forgiven,
Yet the slightest hint of bitterness hangs in the air.
Have I really given a second shot at anything other than my do not ever call again list?
So I will swallow my pride as I go out on the limb of reconciliation.
Because people are worth it and resentment is not.
Because the words must not just be worn,
they must be lived.

devotion

We sweeten unripe fruit with sugar, and it is useful in correcting the crudity even of that which is good. So devotion is the real spiritual sweetness which takes away all bitterness from mortifications; and prevents consolations from disagreeing with the soul: it cures the poor of (7) sadness, and the rich of presumption; it keeps the oppressed from feeling desolate, and the prosperous from insolence; it averts sadness from the lonely, and dissipation from social life; it is as warmth in winter and refreshing dew in summer; it knows how to abound and how to suffer want; how to profit alike by honour and contempt; it accepts gladness and sadness with an even mind, and fills men's hearts with a wondrous sweetness. - St Francis de Sales

Faithful Friday - Mary

One of the many misconceptions I had about the Catholic church was they were obsessed with Mary.
So during one of my meetings with Ruth I asked her what the deal was and this is an excerpt from our q and a session.

1. Why are all of these statues of Mary and the saints in the church?
Well, do you have pictures of your family in your house? Yes of course. Well, it is the same. These statues and pictures are of our Holy family and they remind us of who we came from.
Fair enough.

2. Why do people pray to Mary and the saints?
Well, do you think people in heaven spend time talking to God? Yes
Do you think that because people have died and left the earth that you can't communicate with them? Well, I haven't really thought about it.
As Catholics we believe that Mary and the Saints are in heaven with Jesus. When we talk to them we are asking them to take this or that to Our Father. Have you ever asked someone to pray for you here on earth? Well, of course. Then why not ask someone who is in heaven dwelling with Him? Interesting

3.  Why would I ever pray the rosary and what is the point?
Sometimes you do not have the words to say in prayer. Your heart may be in a broken or empty position and during those times it is invaluable pray. Mary was the first disciple of Christ. She is a beautiful example of humility and grace and she has only always pointed people toward Christ. She is like the moon that reflects a much greater light. While you recite the rosary what you are reciting are portions of scripture and then you are asking Mary to pray for you. "Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of or death. Amen" While you are reciting this you are meditating on one of the mystery's of Jesus' life. There are different mysteries depending on the day of the week.


4. What else to Catholics believe about Mary?
She was immaculately conceived. This means that she was born without the stain of original sin as a gift from God but also because in order for a perfect and holy God to come from her she had to be a suitable vessel.
She was a virgin and remained a virgin throughout her life. St Augustine said, "When God vouchsafed to become Man, it was fitting that he should be born in this way. He who was made of her, had made her what she was: a virgin who conceives, a virgin who gives birth; a virgin with child, a virgin delivered of child — a virgin ever virgin." 
She was assumed into heaven when it was time for her to leave the earth.


I honestly do not feel like my beliefs or lack there of regarding Mary shape or define my relationship with Christ. I can see both the protestant and catholic view points. Even to this day I think that some things will just remain a mystery to me. It is so freeing to just accept that we are not meant to figure everything out.  That being said I do think that Mary certainly deserves a significant place of honor and esteem. I am a mother and I am grateful to belong to a church that gives her credit for the part she plays in our salvation history. I also understand that just like anything else people can become misguided and go in the wrong direction which I feel I have glimpsed in parts of Mexico where Mary is perhaps emphasized more than God. This must break her heart as she would want Christ to have all of the glory. Just like some backward backwoods baptist with their snake handlers the truth has gotten twisted along the way. So we exercise patience and major on the majors and not on the minors and for me that is to love God and love others.

My people

It feels like Christmas Eve to me because tomorrow when I wake up I get to see one of "my people".
There is a small group of four women that I cherish.
They are my go to girls.
Anytime. Anywhere.
I trust them completely and laugh with them until my face hurts.
       Camila and I met because of our fifth cousinhood. We were together for all of our childhood Thanksgivings. We were college roommates. We backpacked across Europe together and loved every second. She is brilliant and is almost like google in a human form. She is open minded yet she knows what she thinks and why. We have watched each other grow up and know each other so well and there is quite a comfort that comes with that. She inspires and fascinates me. No matter how late we stay up talking it will continue when we go to bed.
       Valerie and I met in the second grade. She was always the envy of every girl in whatever grade we were in and I got to be her best friend. She actually remembers what I wore to school on the first day of the fourth grade and just so happened to convince the boy I was "going with" that I was going to break up with him after Valentine's day so they ate all the chocolate that he got me! She knows everything. Our history is rich and deep. She is an amazing mother and fantastic artist with impeccable taste. There is never enough time when we are together. When we see each other it is like we have been trapped somewhere and we have finally been freed to talk to another human. I almost pine for our conversations. The gentleness of her spirit is soothing to my soul.
       Jennifer and I met in the seventh grade. She was a firecracker from the start. She is one of the most thoughtful people I have ever met and an amazing gift giver. She is strong and fiesty. She writes like a mad woman and will one day sign a book of hers for me. She will befriend anyone and makes everyone feel like they are special. I have seen her face adversity with courage and grace. She is a fighter and a beautiful mama.You cannot help but feel comfortable when she is around.  I will remember forever her in my kitchen cooking after we miscarried our son and the comfort that seeing her face brought to me.
       Courtney and I met when she came over to see about cleaning the sweet little Ohio Avenue house. We sat across the table talking forever and I knew that day that it was love at first sight. I wasn't sure if she should clean the place because I really just wanted to be her friend! That was almost eight years ago and we haven't looked back since. She is the most amazing perfectionist. I am talking detail oriented down to the napkins facing in a certain direction. God bless her I don't know how she can stand to be friends with me. She has a heart for people that motivates me to do more. She has taught me that relationships are investments and they are everything. She is a faithful friend who goes the extra mile. She is like a much upgraded version of Martha Stewart with a tad bit of hip. Simply sensational.
         There they are in all of their splendor. I could write pages about each of them. They have made my life better by being in it. They are my 3 am phone calls. My girlfriend getaways. Reasons for praise. My refreshment. The laughter of my heart. The very best of friends. My most kindred spirits.

Wordless Wednesday

Sacrifice

When I was a student at UT I remember going to McDonald's on Ash Wednesday. There was a girl in line behind me with ashes on her forehead. So, I politely told her that she may need a napkin because there was something black on her head. Lovely huh? Tomorrow I will be getting those ashes from the palms of the previous Palm Sunday on my forehead and will begin the season of reflection and sacrifice. I am so thankful for the Liturgical year. These spiritual seasons to be intentional about asking how my life is matching up with the purposes of God. I once thought that sacrificing things was totally pointless not to mention completely lacking the fun factor. I couldn't relate to how or why Jesus would ever care about me not eating chocolate but now I know it is much more. It is a physical sacrifice meant to trigger an interior transformation.  I am choosing seven of my favorite daily activities and sacrificing one each day of the week: coffee, chocolate, music, computer, TV, sleep, and dinner. I am also going to try to write letters of encouragement each day during Lent.  I am seeking to allow God to do some weeding out of all of my junk.  To call a spade a spade and perhaps deal with things I would rather sweep under the rug like the fact that I yell at my kids sometimes and make up these stupid phrases that I say under my breath "damn it to hell and back"  or that I think that somehow I am superior to people that succumb to plastic surgery. I have issues. I admit it. I am grateful that I also have a loving and forgiving God that continues to show me in even greater ways how desperately I need him. The prophet Daniel pleaded for God this way: "I turned to the Lord God, pleading in earnest prayer, with fasting, sackcloth and ashes" (Daniel 9:3). I don't have the sackcloth Lord but I'm ready. Let's get to work.

Real Artifact

These walls tell the story of their lives.

I walk along with utter devotion trying not to miss a word.

It is the only token I have to extend to them.

He approaches with sort of a shuffle.

Gray tweed coat, white hair, small wire rimmed glasses, older than dirt.

I am in love at first sight.

He asks if I can read the sign and I tell him I took Spanish instead of German in school. 

So, he tells me that it says to sell nothing to the Jews, explaining that was the beginning.

When I inquire about his birthplace he tells me he is Polish and he lived under Hitler's rule for seven years.

I am walking around this Jewish heritage museum when I come face to face with a living artifact.

A true survivor.

My interest in the tour feigns. I only want to know this man.

This living being who has walked through hell and come out the other side.

How much strength must be disguised in his fragile frame.

He lost his entire family in one minute.

He was young and left in a hot field with no water for days.

He was placed in four different ghettos otherwise known as concentration camps.

His story spills out from him in bits and pieces.

Pointing to the pictures he utters, "This is the truth of it. Photos couldn't lie back then." 

The tears will not stay put.

I rest my hand on his arm and tell him I am so sorry about what he has gone through and so happy that he is still here.

"It wasn't easy", he says as he waddles away.

There is no comprehending the torment this sweet soul has endured but in the sharing of his story I felt as if we had entered into a sacred realm for the briefest of moments.

That somehow the telling of his tale allowed some of the sorrow to be sifted from his bones.

The testament of his mere presence in the midst of images of death permeated the air with a fortitude that inspires me still. 

Faithful Friday

Two of my three darlings are in the midst of a stomach virus so unfortunately this Friday I will miss my faith topic as I am trying to be faithful to these little angels entrusted to me for a while.
Sacrifice is such an integral part of life, this laying down of oneself continues to be hard work for me, but it is in this posture of putting my agenda to the side, that I more clearly see His agenda for me.
That every act of humility is in his eyes an act of love and obedience.
It doesn't make it easy but it does make it worth it.

Silence

It is a hard art to learn,
catching quiet
by palms raised
cupped in 
air shifting location
here and there like
trying to guess the pattern of falling leaves,
and hoping to feel
the soft descent of moments
when silence slips
between sounds.


-Enuma Okoro


When I was growing up I would always have music playing in my room. When my parents would take me places, I would beg for the radio to be turned up. I still love music with every fiber of my being and think it is one of life's greatest joys but oh how silence and I are becoming much better friends.

Wordless Wednesday- Bling

Lavish

Our first date was a group hike to Rattlesnake Falls. We met on the river. He proposed next to the whitewater rushing by us. On occasion we claim they stole the movie title from us "A River runs through it." One of our favorite hikes was near the Nanatahala River and a cute little artsy coffee shop. It was in that shop that I spotted the most beautiful stained glass fairy angel EVER. I inquired about the price of this exquisite art and then slowly turned away before the clerk saw my foolish mouth agape. I casually mentioned that it was simply stunning as we walked out but stated clearly that I, a user of ninety-nine cent shampoo, would never consider buying it.
After dating for a few weeks we decided to go on a backpacking trip to Glacier National Park in Montana. We camped next to a lodge on the eve of my birthday and so we leisurely strolled over for a  luxurious hot breakfast made by someone else. I browsed the gift shop before we sat down and thought it could use a bit of work. We ate our eggs benedict when I noticed the waitresses coming over with a candle in a muffin alongside a wrapped box. I immediately sent up a prayer: "Please God help me to pretend to like whatever hideous gift this sweet soul has purchased for me at the pathetic gift shop. Lord, you know I can't hide my feelings and I rarely like any gift someone else picks out but just this once help me to fake it. Amen."
So, when I opened the box and pulled out THE ANGEL from the little shop in North Carolina, for the first time in my life I was speechless. I think there may have even been some stuttering and a few tears. You see at this point my sweet darling had spent almost everything he had to take this trip. He was working 60 hours/week and trying to survive. I knew what it had taken him, not only to afford to pay for this token of love, but to carry it for 20+ miles in his backpack through the wilderness without breaking it. This man was a keeper from the very beginning.
What he gave me still ranks as my favorite gift of all time but what is even more incredible is what is says about the giver.
He loves lavishly.
He loves with all of his heart.
He has more feeling in his elbow than I have in my entire body.
He defines generosity and sacrifice on so many levels.
This man I get to call my own.
My sweet valentine.

brokenness

She shows up in tears.
I send the kids up stairs and decide to make some coffee.
"Oh please," I whisper to know the words to say, to respond as He would, and to be fully present.
She hugs me but not because it's been a while, it comes with a clinging heartbreak attached.
Shattered trust tempts us to walk away.
It is too hard to get down on hands and knees and pick up all the pieces.
The heavier weight to carry is the anxiety and fear of its recurrence.
The burden of giving out grace to an undeserving dirty hand.
But oh where would we be?
"I am a sinner, if it's not one thing, it's another. Caught up in words, tangled in lies.
But you are a savior and you take brokenness aside and make it beautiful."- Sons and Daughters
The reason we can't refuse to offer grace is because it has been rained down on us.
Mere human beings, mistake makers, broken people.
Begging for a heart like His is our only hope.
There is no magic formula, no magic words to make pain dissipate.
There is only God to breathe healing into our wounds and strength into our bones.
Then we will walk down this unexpected path and know that His love ALONE sustains us.

Faithful Friday 3

When I began this journey the only thing I really knew or thought I knew about Catholicism was that the schools made you wear uniforms and were expensive, somehow they had decided that drinking was not a sin, and that they of course worshiped Mary. I was born and bred as a true southern baptist, accustomed to going to church on Sundays to hear the preacher's entertaining sermon and some Grammy award winning worship music. I had no idea that catholics went to "Mass" with a "priest" who "gave" a "homily." Seriously, the first couple of times I felt as if I was in a foreign country looking around thinking what in the world are these people doing? I'm glad I didn't work out first with all the kneeling and standing we are doing. So, I thought it would be fitting to discuss what exactly happens during Mass which was one of the first lessons Ruth taught me.

The purpose of Mass isn't socialization or entertainment of any kind. We go to give ourselves to God and in return receive God. This was very difficult for me because I was used to singing a few songs and then being entertained in a sense with several good stories and a biblical outline to fill in.
When you first enter the church everyone is supposed to be silent. It is meant to be a time of prayer and preparation.

I. The Introductory Rites
This is when everyone stands and we sing a song as the priest and the alter servers process to the front of the church. We greet each other and make the sign of the cross before we pray. What I have learned is that making the sign of the cross is sort of like when protestants pray and say "in Jesus name" at the end. Well, the sign of the cross is similar except there are motions with it and it is done at the beginning and end of a prayer.
We then pray the penitential act together. We acknowledge our sins, what we have done and what we have failed to do and seek forgiveness and grace.
We then praise God for his goodness by singing Gloria.
An opening prayer is prayed and they are often short but profound and typically go along with what season we are in. An example would be, "Father, help us to seek the values that will bring us lasting joy in this changing world. In our desire for what you promise, make us one in mind and heart."

II. The Liturgy of the Word
Scriptures are read from the Old Testament, Psalms, New Testament, and the gospels. Everyone stands during the gospel reading to honor the words that Jesus spoke and we all trace a cross on our mouths, our foreheads, and our hearts, that God's Word would be in what we say, in what we think, and in the depths of our souls. All of the readings are somehow related to each other as well as the readings that were the previous week and the upcoming week.
I love knowing the readings ahead of time so that I can be prepared and familiar with them before Mass. I also love knowing that because Mass is a daily occurrence, every single hour Mass is being celebrated somewhere in the world. The feeling of unity is simply astounding.
Then there is a short homily given by the priest that is similar to the protestant sermon. This is where the priest ties the readings together and teaches life applications.
We then profess our faith which I actually love to reflect on because its just a reminder and cause for gratefulness.
We pray general intercessions for the less fortunate of the world, our leaders, and others.
We take up a collection.

III. Liturgy of the Eucharist
The Offertory is brought forth which consists of bread, wine, and offerings for the church and the poor.
The priest and alter servers prepare the alter and the Eucharistic prayer is prayed. We are invited to lift our hearts up to the Lord. This is a prayer of thanksgiving since Eucharist means "thanksgiving".
The priest recites the narrative of the Last Supper connecting what we experience in Mass with Jesus' institution of the Eucharist. This is when as Catholics we believe consecration occurs meaning the bread and wine become the body and blood of Jesus. This major difference will be discussed in further detail and separately later as it was one of the biggest faith hurdles for me.
We all hold hands and say the Lord's prayer and the offer each other signs of peace which means shaking hands or hugging the person next to you and saying, "peace be with you."
We then participate in Communion, receiving the body and blood of Jesus in the form of bread and wine. Each time I am in line the song that comes to my heart is Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary.
We walk back to our seats and kneel for a time of thanksgiving.
The priest blesses us and tells us to go out into the world and glorify God with our lives.
We sing one more song and we are out the door.

I have come to see such beauty in the sacredness and rhythm of Mass. It is a comfort to my soul. It hasn't always been that way though and next week I will discuss some of the many struggles I had to work through in order to appreciate the Mass for what it is.

Phone call

The phone call comes in the middle of laundry with school books scattered around the table.
The noise of the household almost prevents my answering.
Sinking heart, rush of blood, calmed by the fact that my father just arrived and I can go where I am needed.
Not sure where to turn until the cop car out front leads the way.
I'm insulted by the mother standing in the driveway complaining with arms across her chest about the kid that isn't completely mine.
Oh how does the teenage mind deem it necessary to skip school and drink in the middle of the day??
There is no screaming, shouting, or angry dances.
There are a few questions and a few calm comments about the hope of learning lessons one day.
I sigh as we pull into the driveway because now I must call his father.
To make something terrible seem just slightly off is quite the challenge.                                   Unfortunately I was unable to infuse any sort of tranquility into that moment.
Seconds later when my dad answers his phone, my heart breathes.
I listen as my dad pours peace and wisdom into my darling's spirit from the well that brims from years of life experience.
I am so grateful he has called my father.
My father was able to do what I could not.
Don't we just want to tell people who are hurting, just call on my Father. He knows you and loves you. You can trust what he says and find rest in Him.
Thanks Dad for being a voice here on earth that sounds like the One and Only in heaven.

Wordless Wednesday

Dancing with laundry

Life is more beautiful and bearable when you dance with your laundry.

This has been my favorite tune for the past month. His entire album is a tapestry of scriptures weaved in such an artistic manner.

He has so generously offered it for free for the first year!
joshgarrels.bandcamp.com

Dumpster Revelation

      






       There are so many moments when I believe that God is speaking to us but our lives are so full of noise that we don't hear Him even when we claim to be trying. Then there are times when His voice is like a freight train. When there is silence all around except for Him telling you this one thing that He really wants you to get. 


   We had just finished gallivanting around the land in the woods we hope to purchase in the near future. We had gone there to let the kids run wild and toss some sticks into the creek as we plotted and pondered about the direction of the house we want to build and where we might walk into our future front door. We made a mess of ourselves and my man likes to keep his ride a.k.a "his office" looking good so we pulled into the car wash.
     The kids had gone quiet as the fascination of all that water coming at them was just enough to provide a few hushed seconds. I saw the bags next to the dumpster and she was standing there smoking a very skinny cigarette. He was inside handing her random cans and whatever they might accept at the recycling center for some petty cash. They had been keeping company with those clothes for a few days at least. I wasn't just looking at them from the wet windshield a few feet away, but we were peering at each other from different worlds.


I am so sorry.


For all of the thoughts I have had about people like you.
For suggesting you should get a job instead of a few dollars from me that I would otherwise spend on something frivolous at Target.
For thinking that you made all the wrong choices.
For blaming your lack of faith.
For judging you as if you were the lesser person.
For not wanting to be near you because you are nothing like me.


I feel like I belong in that dumpster and yet here I am in this souped up Tundra.


Why?


I could be that woman. I could have had a dad who abused me from a young age. I could have had an alcoholic mother. I could have laid my head to rest in a shanty and only eaten beans and rice every single day.


The weight of the responsibility of blessing lingers. 


I get out of the truck and I want to make small talk but I am at a loss for words. I don't even know what I said but I did smile and give the lady some money. Then I walked right back into my world feeling ashamed at how uncomfortable I am around poor people who are dirty and stinky. 


Pursue the poor. They are my heart.


Those are the words I heard. The same words I have been reading in the scriptures. They are everywhere. I didn't hear, "Just give them a little money so that you will feel better about yourself," but PURSUE which implies work, love, effort, not a garbage bag full of stuff and a drop off scenario. 


Actually being like Jesus is much different than talking about Jesus.

Preaching to myself...

Faithful Friday 2

THE INQUIRY- Part 2


*this is a continuation of my first post here   


   Not only did he show up but he really SHOWED UP. We talked until 3 am and I remember walking back into the house thinking, "Wow, that was interesting." So the love fest began. As we got to know each other I decided it would be a smart idea to find out exactly what he believes and how it lines up with my beliefs. The only Catholic I had ever even known was a guy named Dan in high school and the only thing I knew about him was that his dad drank beer. So, as I was walking around campus one day and noticed a Catholic church I went in to see if they had an informational brochure or something. The guy told me that I should come back at six because there was a lady named Ruth who was holding an informational meeting for people who are interested in learning more about the faith. I thanked him and then thought to myself, "I have to go to a meeting for this".
  Reluctantly, I showed up at the meeting and was joined by two guys also pursuing this option. We were making small talk with each other when Ruth walks in the door. Imagine Aunt Jemima minus the red and white checkered apron, with much bigger boobs, and a big white smile.
She was carrying three different bibles and a huge magnifying glass. We later learned that Ruth had serious issues with her vision and was diagnosed with macular degeneration. She was legally blind but I am telling you she would flip through those Bible pages saying, "uh huh, uh huh, just a minute now it's right here somewhere," and her huge piece of glass would be covering each page helping her to bring the truth to light for all of us. At first we all just sat there and looked at each other not even really knowing what questions to ask I suppose. "Well, let's get started," she said and off she went for the next hour. I tried to soak it all in but it was so much and not just information. For the first time in my adult life I asked myself after that meeting why I had actually thought that I was right all this time. The recognition that I had been walking around in a bubble of self righteousness for a LONG time stung a bit. I wouldn't go down easy though and decided I needed to get my big girl panties on, do my homework and defend the beliefs I had never even questioned or for that matter fully understood in the first place. I know she is getting her Ph.d in Bible but I think I can teach her a few things. Oh my and the journey began...

Freedom

     Routines are good and I sincerely admire people who have a healthy daily ritual that they follow like clockwork. I aspire to be like those people. Yet when the sun surrounds us with warmth in the middle of winter, schedules are tossed to the side. Today there was a bath in a sink full of bubbles, a picnic in the woods with the frogs serenading and the hawks keeping watch. There was table painting in the middle of the driveway with trees made out of hand prints. It was glorious. There was time to notice and indulge in all of the blessings that surround us. The rug needs to be vacuumed and there are clothes in the dryer but somehow we all survived and loved every second of carpe diem leaping off of that magnet on the fridge and into our real lives.

Almost Wordless Wenesday

Happy Birthday Darling...