Polished grace, she strikes again

How is it possible it's been almost two weeks since I posted last? I'm afraid this is indicative of my will power in most anything constructive. Great starter, but not so hot on the follow through. I submit this evidence before the court: at this very moment I have a room that needs the baseboard and trim painted, an afghan that is about 4 rows long, a tea towel that has the body of one chicken embroidered, an embarrassing array of scrapbooking supplies and pictures piled in the corner and oh so much more. However the prosecution will rest it's case here.

My friends I confess, I've met the enemy and it is Facebook.

I'm not even going to get into all the good things I've been reading and thinking about because I need to meditate and pray some more. So for your reading pleasure I will give to you the latest offering for the grace files.

Here at my place of employment there is always a big push for March of Dimes, JDR and the United Way. Each time one of those events come around one of the money raising things we do is buy stickers that will allow us to wear blue jeans for the day or week. I volunteered to be a "Blue Jeans for Babies" coordinator for my department meaning I take money and hand out stickers. Not hard, right? I did such an excellent job of nagging, soliciting, harassing,accepting donations that we ran out of stickers. So I made a quick trip downstairs to pick up some more. From the basement to the 3rd floor you obviously have 3 choices to travel - stairs (are you kidding?), elevator (ach - closed in spaces and me -- not good) or the escalator. It's easy to see which one I chose. As I rounded the corner to the escalator I glanced up to see that there were two maintenance men a little more than half way up. Then I stepped on and began looking down at the stickers, counting them, figuring up whether I had enough....and mindlessly climbing the stairs at the same time.

Thanks be to the angels watching over me I remembered where I was when there was 1/38th of an inch between my head and the maintenance man's right buttock cheek. He was blissfully unaware that I nearly headbutted him in the behind straight into kingdom come.

How would one go about explaining that?

Going first

It's happened enough that it's pretty hard to deny (to myself) that God is wanting to teach me something. Does it happen for you that way too? All of a sudden, everywhere you turn there is some event, some song, some book, some scripture that keeps coming up with a common theme? It's usually one that causes you to wince a little. You just know this is gonna hurt a bit.

Several times lately I've come across the concept of giving the people in my realm of influence the gift of going second. The first time I heard that phrase I was intrigued because after all, making my friends go second doesn't seem all that good a thing to do, right? When I investigated and figured out what was being said I knew I'd be much more comfortable with my previous definition of "good" -- that being, my friends can go first.

It's like this. Have you ever sat in a small group situation when someone confesses they need to share something with the group and they need your forgiveness, help, etc....and then they say "I just haven't been reading my Bible daily." I don't want to minimize the importance of daily Bible study -- this isn't what that's all about at all. Essentially they have 'set the bar' now for confession for your group. Someone else steps up and mournfully shares they haven't been praying as they should. Again, I'm not mocking that. But where does that leave you? Sitting in the group knowing how ugly your heart is....knowing that you have outright lied to your boss at work -- knowingly and willfully lied. Or the niggling little voice in the back of your mind that says you are becoming too fond of that glass of wine every evening that has beome two and three glasses, starting earlier and earlier. Or the fact that you have multiple prescriptions at multiple pharmacies from multiple doctors for pain relievers. Or you're trapped in the voracious monster of internet porn. You're tempted to have an affair. You don't love your spouse. All those real things that people struggle with every single day and yet we live as though we are above it all and would never ever have those feelings. Is it realistic to expect that someone is going to follow up "I've not been praying enough." with "I've been having dinner with someone other than my mate." ???

I am reminded of a song "Stained Glass Masquerade" by Casting Crowns.

Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small
Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they'll soon discover
That I don't belong
So I tuck it all away, like everything's okay
If I make them all believe it, maybe I'll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the part again
So everyone will see me the way that I see them
Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain

AUTHENTICITY. That's become somewhat of a buzz word in the religious sector today. It doesn't diminish the need for it. And that is where the challenge comes in - giving your group the gift of going first. If I go first and share the real Michelle and the real Michelle's struggles, you are freed to share the real you. THEN community develops. Healing begins. Churches grow. God is glorified.

I'm not sure I'm ready to go first. But if not me, then who?

It's a new week

and I got nothin'.

I would like to be able to tell you about my weekend. The weekend in which we packed up the remainder of Matt's extensive library, moved excess furniture to the attic, painted a very dark blue bedroom a very soft pastel pink. I would like to tell you about driving all over Collin County in our search for just the right bed. About my weekend cooking for the upcoming week's dinners. About the gigantic mound of dog hair that I swept up from a dog that by all rights should be bald now. About my "okay it's time to break out the sandals" pedicure. About how I was early to 7:15 AM praise team warm ups on Sunday morning. About all the laundry that I got not only washed but folded and put away.

Those are all the things I would like to tell you about. Fortunately (for you) and unfortunately (for me) I cannot tell you about those things because they didn't happen. Those were on the to-do list. I wish my to-do list and my just-did list would match up. Just once. It's not a lot to ask is it?

Apparently.

Maybe my memory is faulty but it sure seems to me that I was more organized and got more accomplished when my kids were little than I do now when they are all grown. Apparently, along with the kids growing up and leaving, one's stamina and memory goes right along behind them.

Sigh.

Growing old is not for sissies.

P.S. To be absolutely fair to myself I did accomplish a shockingly low number of the above mentioned tasks. I wasn't a complete slouch.

Rumba

I hope this link stays around for a long, long time. This is a complete delight! It is also a goal to shoot for. Enjoy!!

http://www.dallasnews.com/video/index.html?nvid=340840&shu=1

Broken

"If my life is broken when I give it to Jesus it is because pieces will feed a whole multitude while a loaf will satisfy only a little lad." Ruth Stull

For the first three decades of my life I lived in a fairy tale world where heartbreak and sorrow had no place. My sister would tell you that it was indeed a fairy-tale world that had nothing to do with reality but the truth is I saw the world largely as a friendly nice place to be. There had never been any shocking tragedies. My parents, with all their human failings, never once caused me to doubt their sacrificial love for me or my siblings. We didn't live in the best part of town, we didn't have a ton of money but we always had enough. We ate well, dressed well - each of us got a car when we turned 16. Well, except for one of my sisters who refused to drive until she was 18. I went to school, got good grades without ever once really trying, had boyfriends, had girlfriends. I was very active in my youth group at church, I had a part time job as the church secretary so was very close to the minister. Looking back I just see it as a mostly positive experience. I confess that I have some sort of insane (my sis would testify) ability to look at the world and see it as I want it to be rather than what it is. And yet, I was largely sheltered from the evil and pain that is a part of life here in Satan's kingdom.

Then "real" life hit. It came in the form of tsunami, destroying every vestige of "normal", wiping every secure haven I had erected. I was devastated. Hadn't I always tried to do the "right" thing? Hadn't I tried to follow the rules? Why oh why was this happening??

Years later, though I'm still sifting through the damage of those earlier storms, I find myself not so afraid when the winds pick up. I've come to understand and accept that they are a part of life. They serve a greater purpose than to just shake up my world. I've been given a greater mission field than I would have had should I have been allowed to continue living in Beaver Cleaver's neighborhood. My brokenness makes me available to other's brokenness.

I don't like being reminded of the storms, I really don't like the scars they left. But if those scars bring one person to the healer of wounds I need to be willing to let them show. It's in my nature to want to hide them. Pray with me that I remember the loaf was enough for a boy but it was broken to feed the multitudes.

He looked at him and saw that he loved

I've read the story of "The Rich Young Ruler" many times. I've heard lessons on it, I've taught lessons on it. Seems to me as I reflect on it that the take away from each of those lessons was always focused on his failure. Failure to let go of his wealth. Failure to see Jesus as the prize. He loved money more than Jesus. And of course, "it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into heaven."

All true - all important lessons. Recently however, a verse jumped out at me that I hadn't ever considered before. One so important that I will go out on a limb here and say it could be the key verse of the section.

"And Jesus looked at him and loved him." Mk 10:21

Here's a young man approaching Jesus. I don't know, but I suspect by his dress and it his manner it was obvious he was a person of some importance. Maybe he had already begun to realize that he couldn't buy peace. We do know that he came to Jesus because he knew that Jesus had the answers he was seeking...quite possibly answers to questions he didn't know he had. Here's what I have always missed in my reading of this passage of scripture. Jesus looked at him and loved him. When the young man heard Jesus' answer he walked away sorrowful. Is it just maybe possible that part of the reason was he saw the love in Jesus eyes and he knew he was walking away from that?

I wonder. Do the people that I work with who deny even the deity of my Lord see love when I look at them? After listening yet again to another tale of woe brought about because of poor decisions do my eyes convey love? Or frustration? Judgement? Horror?

I suspect people might find it harder to walk away from our churches if we in the church looked at them with eyes that conveyed love.

What do you think?

Suffering

I am suffering from blog anxiety and Saharaian aridness (I'm not sure either of those are words, but if they are not they should be) of the brain. This happened the very day I started writing for anyone other than myself. So unfortunate, this quest of mine for Everybody. To. Like. Me.!! I need to return to my roots of writing my story for my children's amusement some day when I'm long gone and stop thinking that this is the bar stool in that drug store where whoever the actress was that got discovered there. I also apparently need to rediscover the wonders of grammar and reaquaint myself with the definition of run-on sentences and why they are not a good thing.