I guess I'm not like you.

How do I pour out my heart without breaking yours?
How do I tell you I feel betrayed without offending you?
Will you even hear me? Is it worth me telling? Will any good come of it?

Many of you know I have taken the results of the election pretty hard. I'm a passionate person. I feel deeply as I know many of you do. I want you to know that I love you. I also want you to know that I don't feel safe with you anymore and the reasons why.

I've been wearing a scarf over my head since the weekend after the election. When hate speech and racial attacks bubble up from the hearts of some of the voters claiming victory, I grieve. When protesters vandalize because their own anger overflows, I grieve. When the response I hear over and over to my own pleas to hear my grief is itself full of the boastful pride of winning, I grieve.

As my headscarf symbolizes mourning, it also doubles as my personal visible sign to you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, the visible Church of our Lord Jesus, whom I deeply love; I don't want to be associated with your overwhelming voice in the election.

I never felt like I had to choose between the "lesser of two evils." I don't understand why you did. Perhaps you cared more about winning than I did. I didn't think the Christian life was about winning. I thought is was about being kind and merciful to others. I thought it was about caring for the poor and defending the weak. I thought it was about goodness, not greatness.

Maybe you cared more about saving the babies than I did. Maybe you think the Christian way to save babies is to make a law and force life. I thought the Christian way was welcoming life with joy and providing a safe and loving environment for life to be received. I thought saving babies is done by having deep love relationships with each other-so that when unwelcomed pregnancies happen, the mother and child would be supported emotionally and physically by each other-so that the growing child would not feel the stress of the mother, the judgment, the shame. I thought the Christian way was loving people, not lording over them.

I guess I'm not like you.

I heard you. You didn't care that he cares about winning more than being good. You watched him publicly just as I did. I don't have to remind you. You have wielded your most powerful act as an American and declared: character isn't the deciding factor. You have spoken. You chose winning over decency.

I thought you cared about me.
I thought you would defend me.
I thought you would say, "You are more valuable than rubies."
I thought you would say, "No one should ever be treated like that."

I thought my life mattered.

Perhaps I'm too sensitive.
Perhaps I'm overreacting.
Perhaps I have unresolved childhood issues.
Perhaps the scars of abuse in my own life cloud my perception.

But one thing I know. I love you, but...
I'm not like you.

Galatians: A Parable of Blue Hair, by Helen Fradette

When our church studied Galatians several years ago, I had an image stick in my head that helped me understand the overall message of the book and I'd like to share it with others.

Imagine that our good work as Christians on earth is an amusement park. "Woohoo, I'm riding the tilt-a-whirl (insert Christian good work here)." Or, "I just paid for Johnny to ride the Ferris wheel  (insert mission trip to this country or charity here)." Not that we are boasting about it, but that we are being what we would call obedient and following the rules of the amusement park. After all, isn't that what they are for? Ride the rides, eat the food and enjoy the time.

But the catch to this amusement park is that the only people that can enter the park are those that have blue hair.  Obviously we are not born with blue hair, so something has to be done in order for us enter the park.

Those of us that are called by God into His kingdom through a saving faith in Jesus Christ our Lord, upon acceptance of this gift will automatically have our hair turn blue, thus gaining entrance. But not only does our hair turn blue--from that point on our heads will continue to grow blue hair.

Those that don't understand the gospel of Jesus Christ but know that they should be good, want to do good works and/or be a good person end up going to the Blue-Hair-Dying Shop where they dye their hair in order to gain entrance. They still can enjoy the benefits of the park while on Earth, but they are fakers, and it is often hard for us amusement park enthusiasts to tell the difference between the two.

Some people don't care about amusement parks and have no interest in having Blue Hair.

And some of us that have the imputed Blue-Hair follicles still go to the Blue-Hair-Dying Shop to dye our hair blue-when it is already Blue. Just stop that, ok? We already have Blue Hair!

And that's my summary of Galatians.

God and a treasure map

My pastor gave a sermon this past Sunday entitled, "Curios Case of Love." One of his sermon points was "God is love," from 1John 4:8 which says, "The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love." He went on to say that we can't base our entire view of the character of God by only one of his attributes, such as love; this would not be an accurate frame of reference in which to base our understanding of God.

For the Bible also says that God is spirit: John 4:24 "God is spirit and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth."
God is light:  1John 1:5 "This is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you, that God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all."
God is a consuming fire: Deuteronomy 4:24 "For the Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God."

My pastor likened these other "God is" statements as lenses, such as when getting an eye exam, through which we must also view God and it made me think of the movie National Treasure. I thought of the scene where the treasure hunters find Benjamin Franklins glasses that have different colored lenses. The lenses had a swivel so you could move them up or down, thus forming the key/ color through which to view the invisible treasure map.

So if we take the lens of Love, Spirit, Light and Fire and put the each of them on a different "colored lens"- and try to look through this new multi-lens frame in order to gain understanding into the character of God- I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around what I would see. God certainly reveals who He is to us in different ways. And sometimes it's easy to understand Him. Often for me, it isn't. I wonder if it is because only when I view him through all of the lenses will the mysteries of His treasure reveal themselves to me. And I wonder if my treasure map looks different from yours. But what I do know is that it could be dangerous to use only one lens. And that without any at all, our treasure map isn't revealed at all and our journey is in vain.

Welcome Home

I started this blog 5 years ago. I wrote two entries. I had high hopes. Then life happens. Funny thing about life, it keeps happening...

I moved last weekend into a beautiful..no scratch that.. quaint little farmhouse about a 30 minute drive from all of my normal daily activities. I moved because the rent on the two bedroom townhouse that I was renting would have exceeded $1000.00/month if I had decided to stay upon notice. So the next day, I searched on the web again and boom/bang we are now in a new place.

This new place- there is nothing new about it. In fact, I think it might be held together with duct tape. The night before the big move, I gained access to the cute little farmhouse and drove out to inspect what would become the place we call home. The first thing I noticed was that the deadbolt locks on the doors are extremely hard to use-- because the door/wood is so old, and the lock is so new? Perhaps the wood has warped so much since the locks were installed that they rub too much. I don't know, but at any rate, the handle on the door--that is what one would call a doorknob, is in fact just that- a knob on a door. It serves no other purpose than to be pulled- not turned- very hard in order to open the doors. In my mind, I have determined to make this feature an additional safety feature of the home. At least when the door is locked, no one is getting in and sometimes or out for that matter. I now know why the landlord said, "The house is unlocked, keys in the kitchen cupboard."

I glazed over the cobwebs and cracks in the walls as that is to be expected. I was a little surprised to find two dead mice in the basement, but glad they were dead. I did not expect to find the shower head held together with duct tape. Since we have moved in, I now see that our kitchen table doesn't really fit in the kitchen, as we can't open the refrigerator door. I have realize again that it sure is hard to ascertain the condition of a home with a 10 minute walk through, while the previous tenant's belongings still in the home and I continue to wondered how we are going to unpack our own stuff in this little place.

Well, I hope to share more of our adventures with you. Hopefully sooner than 5 years.
Blessings.

I slept in my clothes last night.

June 2, 2010
Well, I slept in my clothes last night. I didn't really mean to, well, I guess I kind of did. At least I slept in my bed rather than on the couch. Then there was the getting up in the morning challenge. I got plenty of sleep lat night--and had slept about four hours during the day yesterday. I had set an alarm for 6:45am but, of course, I turned it off and rolled over. Here I am again, at the point in my depression when I just can't do life. When I wake up in the morning I try to tell myself the gospel--that I'm deeply loved, that His spirit dwells within me and I do have the will power to get up, but when I do, I'm just despondent. "It's not enough," and "I don't care if I don't get up." But I have so much responsibility! I have to get the children up and off to school. I don't think I can do it. I feel like I am a part of my matress. I'm sunken in the bed and I have no strength, no energy, no desire to get up. It was dark in the bedroom. Rain. Cloudy skies. I hear a little thunder. I like that. Thunder reminds me of God's power. After being up a few minutes I realize that the garage door was left up last night. I could sware that I put it down. In fact, I went to great effort to put my bike in from outside late last night, -in my pajamas. Did I forget to put it down after I went through all that trouble? I'm trying to take care of myself and my things... put them away...keep them safe from being stolen...actually care and value my belongings....-just to find that he door has been open all night which of course means that the critters could get in and get to my trash...which they did... so now the trash bag that I set in the garage last night...the one with the carpenter ants in it, is now disgustingly strewn about. What a mess. I'll get to it later I guess. My hand is itchy with bumps. I must remember to call the landlord today about the ant infestation. Well, good morning Helen.
Home now after takingthe kids to school. We were late again. Just a few minuts this time. What should I do now? I read my devotional already so now I'm reminded that "God is with me, who can stand against me?" I'll tell you what! The laundry, the trash, the ants, my daughter's art projects, bills, toys, food, I could go on. In short, my depression. I look around and see insurmountable tasks that are waiting and rotting to be done. I think I'll take a little snooze. It's still raining.

Late again for church

We were late again for church this morning. It's probably my fault, right? I'm the mother-the responsible one. Is it too much to ask my three young children; 8yrs, 6yrs and 3yrs to stay on task? Must I constantly be with them, keeping them focused on the task at hand...getting dressed, eating breakfast, brushing teeth? I just don't understand why it takes them twenty minutes to do each of these activities. That's another subject. We're up and bathed and dressed and had breakfast and I'm putting on the last of my makeup before grabbing my purse and loudly proclaiming that I'm getting in the van, when Mary, my six year old, asks if she can put on some makeup too. First I say "no," because we are late, then after a manipulative plea of "but you always get to put on makeup and I never do!" I consent to getting her "makeup" out for her, with instructions that she needs to do it herself while I get my shoes on...then we are getting in the van. I've grabbed my purse, put the three year old in her carseat, went back in the house and yelled for the eight year old, Jonathan. He is looking for his shoes which he claims he left in his room, but I remember he kicked of last night by the couch when we were playing the stinky feet game. I shout to him that his shoes are in the living room and go to fetch my beauty girl. I find her all "dolled" up in the bathroom with no shoes on. "Come on, Mary, let's go!" I say firmly but trying to keep a bit of endearment in my voice. As she starts to come she wails, "but Mom, I need my shawl!" Of course she doesn't really need her shawl, but I know that this is the shawl that I gave her for her birthday to go with her dressy outfit. It's a crocheted-grandma-baby- blue-triangle shawl that I bought for a dollar at Good Will, but for some reason it is special to her and I knew she had her mind set on wearing it this morning. It would have broken her heart for me to not allow her to get it. "Well, go and get it!" I prod her along, with an edge in my voice. I go back to the van to check on the others. Jonathan has his shoes in his hands-not on his feet-and tells me that he needs new shoes because of the pea-sized whole near the toe of his sketcher. This however, comes out of his mouth as, "Mom, my shoes are trashed, I need some new ones." I'm nearly beside myself now so all I can manage to say is, "really? well put your trashed shoes on please, I don't think God will mind." Back into the house I go again to fetch my Mary. I find her upstairs with the shawl neatly layed out on the floor. She is ever so carefully moving her hands over it to get rid of the wrinkles. Mary seems to "prepare" for everything she does. She doesn't just do things. That's another story. Being her mother, I realize this and call upon my patience, look at the clock and see that we are now fifteen minutes late for church. "Mary, what are you doing?" "I'm coming, Mom. I'm just putting my shawl on." She says in such a grown-up manner. She proudly cascades down the stairs wearing her baby-blue-grandma-shawl, then asks me to adjust it-like a lady would wear it. We are about to walk out the door...I thought. "Mom!" she exclaims. "I need a necklace!" Now at this point, I'm contemplating staying home all together. "Better late than never" echoes in my mind and I return to my precious daughter before me. "Mary, you have necklaces, you should have already gotten one on." "But Mom, I don't know where they are right now! Can I wear one of yours?" Oh the ever dreaded request of a child to a parent..."can I use/borrow.....of yours?" Remarkably I thought of a necklace that she "could" wear. "Go get in the van and I will get a necklace for you." I head upstair to retrieve the necklace. Lord, thank you for my children. Thank you for my precious Mary and how you have given her the desire to be a beautiful creation before you and your people; how you have given her me as an example to follow, in the way I dress, the makeup I wear, and even my jewelry, Lord, help me! Use this morning in a powerful way to validate her preciousness and beauty as your child. Thank you that she sees the value in herself and has the desire to take great care of her presentation. I return to the van with the necklace and place it over her head. Now, the van is running, the door to the house is already locked and I'm about to shut the van door, when my three year old, Dana, exclaims! "Mom! My necklace!"