Blindness

What would happen if one day, the world's entire population were suddenly afflicted by an epidemic of blindness?

Think about it for a moment.

How would you find your way home from work if you were suddenly blind? How would you collect your children from their schools? How would planes land, or goods be transported, or utilities maintained?

How long would any one of us have before we experienced the complete breakdown of this civilized, thoroughly modern society?

If those questions intrigue you, and if you are up for reading a piece of finely wrought literature that will challenge you in surprising ways, then I suggest you read "Blindness", a novel written by Jose Saramago.

I've just started reading......and I have to tell you, it's brilliant.

The Shack

A kidnapped daughter is presumed dead.

Her father is overwhelmed with grief and anger.

Four years later, in the midst of this father's Great Sadness, he receives a suspicious note, (apparently from God), inviting him back to the scene of the crime....back to the shack.

So begins the novel written by William P. Young, entitled, "The Shack".

It's an incredible book; and even though I cannot say that it is particularly well written, it is perhaps one of the most spiritually influential books I have yet to read in my lifetime.

Sage Words

Dropping Christmas
by John Buchanan

You cannot live in this culture without experiencing how the air is let out of the holiday balloon on December 26. The Magi may not arrive in Bethlehem until January 6, but the culture abruptly drops the whole matter practically before Christmas Day is over....

Almost anybody can be touched emotionally by the birth of a baby. But the church knows and remembers that the baby grew up and became a man who taught a revolutionary ethic of unconditional love and practical forgiveness and who overturned cultural convention by welcoming the marginalized and excluded. The church remembers that the baby grew up and got into trouble with the authorities for living out his notion of what God's kingdom looks like---a new social arrangement without all the old barriers and boundaries, an arrangement in which all are loved and welcomed at the banquet table.

The church remembers that the baby grew up and challenged social convention by forgiving enemies, turning the other cheek, responding to violence not with violence but with love.... The birth is a sign, for people of faith, that God is alive and at work in the world. Christ comes again, is born again, when lives are transformed by his love, when forgiven and restored men and women begin to live new lives in a world that is suddenly new because he was born into it. The culture may drop Christmas like a hot potato, but for faith it is a beginning, not an end.

Source: The Christian Century, December 25, 2007

Merry Christmas

Ok, so this song and dance is a little hippie-esque.

But hey, I love Jars of Clay...and even though we all know Mary didn't ride a unicorn, they did get one thing right in the song.

Love came down at Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

Hilarious!

I read this and I almost peed my pants.

I always get dressed up to shop at Walmart. Don't you?

The good life

H2O color tree I painted and collaged last year....

Early this morning, I delivered teacher presents (See's chocolates), some board games (checkers, Sorry, Clue and Scrabble) for a fourth grade classroom in need of games, and oatmeal cookies for our elementary school's Christmas party.

At 10:00 am, my husband and I are helping the homeless single dad and his teen son move into their new apartment! As some of you may remember, this family lived with us for a brief period, while they waited for a family shelter placement.

All I can say is, "Eat your heart out Santa! You might deliver presents one night a year, but I'm blessed to have days like today all year round!"

Hot damn! Life is good today! Very, very good!

The darker side....

Recently I received this e-mail from a friend. He's someone who has completely devoted his life to Christ and is actively serving the poor in our community. Here's a portion of what he wrote:

Now, I will also let my hair down and share some frustrations in my journey to be available to those in need. Maybe you can help me.

I will confess that, as I work with families in distress, I tire of their inability to make deadlines and do the (often simple) things they need to do. For example, there's a family that lived in our neighborhood for years who has benefitted many times from the generosity of the church. Neat familiy. And yet they still forget (every year) to register for the Christmas-basket program and then call me to lament how they won't have anything for Christmas. With almost a tinge of "it's the churches fault we missed the deadline."

I love the family and we will help again this year . . . and I will also give them my encouraging pep talk about being proactive and responsible, and they will say "yes, we will," and then right back to square one.

Here's my quandry--I know that a family in poverty can't be expected to be all tip-top orderly like a family who's not in stress. And yet, poverty doesn't have to mean a person is irresponsible or inept. I often wonder if we "enable" rather than "empower" with our gifts. I work really hard to encourage "empowerment" and yet "enabling" still seems to be the outcome.

That, of course, shouldn't mean we give up. I am just trying to have the Lord help me understand how to be more effective (in Him). I realize that our job is to "simply engage" not "fix," that servanthood is a two-way street of transformation for both me and the family/person I'm helping . . . and still it breaks my heart to see people stuck in first gear.

Thanks for letting me unload. I'm not upset, just mildly frustrated. Please enlighten me!

In Christ,
"Bob" (name changed for anonymity)

My response was as follows:

Dear "Bob", I regret to tell you that I am unable to offer any enlightenment with regards to your "enabling" versus "empowering" dilemma. What I can do, is tell you that I've had similar struggles and if you have the patience to read through this entire e-mail, I would be more than happy to share some of my personal journey as it relates to living life in the trenches with hurting people.

I think you already know that when I was young, I experienced an abusive childhood where I was verbally and physically battered. You also know that I've battled addiction and thus, I am well acquainted with the soul numbing anguish that comes with losing every shred of self respect and dignity in the bottom of a bottle. It might surprise you to know that I've also known what it is to be dirt poor, and to literally live without a pot to piss in....

...and still, knowing all that I have known and having experienced all that I have experienced in this life, I've gone on to make two regrettable mistakes as I've tried to carry out Christ's desire for me to be His heart, His hands and His feet for the broken, the poor and the hurting among us. As inconceivable as it might seem, my first mistake was made in romanticizing the plight of the poor in our community; and my second, more egregious error, was made in condemning those individuals who gave only marginal assent to their own responsibility regarding the difficulties and challenges they face in their own lives.

Let me be clear. I am not suggesting these are anybody's errors but my own. I own these errors, and I own them gladly because they have taught me much about God's grace and His over-powering love and forgiveness.

Here's what I've learned.

There is a darker side to living and loving with compassion and I believe that darker side of compassion is best exemplified by Christ's willingness to choose death on the cross. Christ our Lord, our Saviour, the Holy Lamb of God died on the cross for an eternity of idiots. He died for all of the connivers, all of the ingrates, all of the belligerent ones; and miracle of miracles he died for you, just as he died for me. Christ died for all of us, precisely because God loves all of His creation...even the idiots, the whiners and the nare-do-wells.

Oh "Bob"! I could weep for the sheer beauty of it! God is so full of grace and so full of compassion for us, that through Christ, God has cleared the path to true freedom. God has given us His spirit of abundant compassion and His wellspring of love in order that we might love as God loves. For me, this is true freedom.

I will admit that I have often struggled with trying to discern where I have enabled versus empowered others. Rarely has this dilemma been about truly discerning whether my helping was actually hurting. More often than not, it was all about my judgement of another person's worthiness to receive my care, my time, my money, my love. Or worse still, it was about looking good before my brothers and sisters in Christ, and trust me that knife cut both ways. All too often, I wasn't doing enough or in other instances, I was doing too much. Take your pick, but it all boils down to my letting the opinions of others sway me from doing what I knew was the right thing to do.

We both know that many of the people living in poverty, live with a sense of entitlement. Many are conniving. Many are dishonest. Many, by this society's standards anyway, are unworthy of my care, but here's where the darker side of compassion rears it's beautiful head. I am free to love them anyway. I am free to engage and to aid and to care without limits or expectations. Do people take advantage? Yes. Do I have a responsibility to refuse to enable where I clearly am? Yes; but in all honesty, I have to say that those instances are fewer and farther between than one might expect.

In my experience, I have often seen that material and financial care/assistance without relationship, can and often does lead to the kinds of situations you have described in your e-mail. I've seen this reality play out in my own life and in the corporate life of our church as I/we care for our neighbors. I suspect that the issue of dependency, and the sense of entitlement like the one you described in your e-mail often evolve out of lack of genuine community/relationship between the resourcer and the resourcee. (I'm not saying this is what has happened in the situation you have described, just that in general, this is a pattern I have observed.)

For me personally, my response isn't to cease caring or offering succour. My responsibility is to reach deeper into myself and where I am allowed, to reach more deeply into that other person's life. I've resolved to never give up anyone, because Christ never gave up on me. It took Him 40 some odd years, but His persistence finally won out. I want my persistence to win out too because I believe that in spite of my mistakes, in spite of any instances where I may have enabled rather than empowered, God will persevere through me.

"Bob", I cannot offer you any clear cut advice on how to be more effective for Christ, but the fact that you are wondering about things such as these, suggests to me that God is moving you towards something new. Perhaps that "something" new will be some new, life breathing insight, or a new idea on how best to serve others, or maybe it will simply be a deeper understanding of God's love for you. Either way, let me just say, that it is good to be questioning and to be wondering. I believe that we have much to learn from our own questions and so I honor you as you speak and search out the truth of your own pondering.

Well, I've gone on long enough and while I doubt very much that I've provided any clarity for you in this e-mail, I can offer to pray for you and I can encourage you. Whether you see the results you long to see, whether you can measure the benefits your loving actions give to others, I am here to tell you that what you do matters to God and to the people you serve. See through our eyes and rest in the knowledge that what we see is good.

Merry Christmas "Bob"and thanks for all that you do on behalf of our community!

The Answer Man

This past Wednesday I rambled on about the rampant numbers of homeless children in my city. I then went on to offer a few suggestions about what the average individual might consider doing in order to help end homelessness.

Today I happened across this guy's video.

He's got the answers, my friends.

Just play the video and see for yourselves.

PS~I positively LOVE Hugh Laurie!

39,000 and counting.....

Yesterday I conducted a site review of our city's Homeless Education Program. Our Homeless Education Program identifies, tracks and assists homeless youth and their families by providing resources and support to achieve stability and confidence for success in school.

I learned that there are in excess of 39,000 homeless children in the State of Oregon and those figures do not reflect the alarming increase in our homeless population.

In our city alone, recent statistics indicate that there is a 23% increase in the numbers of homeless children since this same time last year.

I don't know about you, but I find that 23% increase to be both astonishing and alarming.

I mean seriously, can you believe that we have so many homeless children in one of the richest nations on earth?

I am sickened by the the whole situation.

Tomorrow I will conduct a site review for one of the two family shelters that exist in our community. I'm planning on taking a roll of Tums along. Seriously. My stomach is already upset just thinking about all of the new numbers, the new statistics I'm bound to learn...each of which, represents a homeless child, or a homeless teenager, or a struggling parent.

As we move into this Holiday season of commerical gluttony and self-indulgence, I find myself well and truly sickened. We spend so much money buying crap we don't need, or buying gifts for people we don't even like. Why? Why do we do this when there are so many who are going without so much? Why do I do this?

Something's gotta change.

I've gotta change.

What about you? Does any of this bother you? Do you care? Are you willing to make any personal changes in order to benefit a homeless child in your school district.

What can you possibly do, you ask?

Start by praying. Pray for those children. Pray for the committed people in your community who are serving and addressing the many needs created by poverty and homelessness.

Or what about volunteering with an agency that serves the homeless? I can tell you that those many agencies are crying for volunteers. They need all kinds of volunteers to do all kinds of things.

Or what about buying one less Christmas present for yourself, or your spouse, or your child, or your grandchild and contribute that money to one of the many programs that serve the homeless in your area?

I don't know. Be creative, but do something.

No state should have 39,000 homeless children and counting.....

No child should be homeless. Not one. Period.

Community

Yesterday, I mentioned that my family had recently spent some time celebrating a friend's Bar Mitzvah at our local synagogue, Temple Beth Shalom.

One of the many things I noticed when we joined our Jewish brothers and sisters for Shabbat, was that worship within this community was multi-generational. I saw children fidgeting, I saw older folks calming toddlers, I saw mothers quietly breast feeding infants, I saw teens smiling and poking one another, I saw parents and grandparents and singles. In short, I saw a cross section of life gathered together to pray and to worship.

In my church, children are conspicuously absent during worship and preaching. We are not a multi-generational worshipping congregation. Our children are allowed in the sanctuary if they remain quiet; but if they fidget, or snore, or need to breast feed, we are asked to remove our children from the sanctuary.

I think my church misses much of the beauty of corporate worship by not including the entirety of our lives in our worship. I believe we should be training up our children to revere the word of God, to appreciate and to actively participate in the beauty of our worship; and I believe that we should be doing this as a community of believers with patience and love in one hand and compassion and grace in the other.

Another thing I appreciated at Temple Beth Shalom, was the time that the community took to pray for the hurting and the ill. Each person in need of healing was mentioned by name. Each name was included in the community's corporate prayer. This was also done for those grieving the loss of loved ones. A prayer of mourning was recited as if to comfort each person who had lost someone to death over the past year. It was beautiful to have the mourners name their loved one, and to stand and to pray the Mourner's Kaddish.

I know that a church of our size would be greatly taxed to do this....but oh, how lovely it would be to corporately stand and to pray a prayer of love for our hurting brothers and sisters. I wonder why we do not do this? It is so healing, so lovely, so....well, so sacred.

I mentioned yesterday that Temple Beth Shalom is a very simple temple in the sense that it lacks ornamentation and decoration. The worship at Temple Beth Shalom was also simple. There weren't any instruments, or flashing lights or worship choirs. It was just God's people praying and singing together. Some of us were off tempo, some were off key, but all were joining together to praise our God. And it was beautiful.

And I have to tell you, the praying didn't stop in the sanctuary. We were blessing one another and praying in the lobby as well. It was as if the worship couldn't be contained, just as God cannot be contained, and the worship spilled out from the sanctuary into the common space of their communal life..the lobby.

Miracles of miracles, we were included. My family was surrounded and welcomed and embraced. Everyone there knew we were strangers and that we were not Jewish, but they welcomed us into their community of worship anyway. It felt good. It felt warm. It felt sacred. God was moving among His people and I felt Him in ways I've never felt God's presence in my own church.

Last Friday, on our way home from the Shabbat service, my ten year old son asked, "Mom, that was amazing. Can we become Jewish?"

My heart broke with that question, because it speaks so greatly of the lack of community we experience in our own church.

Something is broken in our church. I've said this over and over. I've tried to share this concern with our church leadership and I've been shunned and shamed. I've been told that the problem is mine, not the church's.

Now I know that things aren't perfect at Temple Beth Shalom. I know that wherever people gather, problems will arise. Human beings are imperfect and prone to petty rivalries, but I experienced something at Temple Beth Shalom that I haven't experienced in the nine years I've attended our neighborhood church. I experienced community. My family experienced community. And it was good.

Thank you Temple Beth Shalom for welcoming us, for taking us in.

We are truly grateful.

Temple

One week ago, this boy and his family invited us to hear him lead last Friday's Shabbat service at our local synagogue.

The very next morning, we attended his Bar Mitzvah.

My family felt very welcomed by the members of Temple Beth Shalom. They were kind, and patient and so willing to share the richness of their faith with us. We were all deeply moved by the things that we heard, witnessed and experienced.

Some of you know that my husband and I have been deeply troubled by the extravagance and the waste we often see exhibited within our church. One such example of this extravagance includes the recent installation of nine large, plasma screens in our church lobby. These screens serve no other purpose than to flash in bold, 21st Century style the names of key ministries within our church.

What we see in our church lobby, what we see in our church sanctuary stands in stark contrast with what we witnessed and experienced at Temple Beth Shalom.

The sanctuary at Temple Beth Shalom was completely without adornment. Unlike many Christian churches with their giant worship screens, ornate crosses, and their elevated preaching/worship platforms, the focal point in a Jewish sanctuary is the Aron Hakodesh.

The Aron Hakodesh is the Holy Ark which houses the Torah scrolls. The Torah, as most people know, is Judaism's most sacred possession. Many Christians often refer to the first five books in the Holy Bible as the Hebrew scriptures. Those five books (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy), constitute the Torah. The Torah is handwritten in Hebrew on a parchment scroll and it rests within the Aron Hakodesh.

The only other defining feature in this Jewish sanctuary, was the Ner Tamid. The Ner Tamid is a lamp which hangs just above the Aron Hakodesh and it represents eternal light. It stands as a symbol of God's eternal presence and is a symbolic connection to the menora of the ancient Temple of Jerusalem.

Like many Christian sanctuaries, Jewish sanctuaries also have pulpit, or bimah. In Judaism, a bimah is always located at the east end of the sanctuary so that it faces Jerusalem, which was the site of the first Jewish Temple. The bimah in Temple Beth Shalom was a very simple wooden pulpit, adorned only by a hand carved Star of David.

Maybe other synagogues have temples which are more ornate, but this temple was very beautiful in its simplicity.

I fear that my church has abandoned simplicity in favor of light shows and worship extravaganzas. Right now, our lobby is over-filled with elaborately decorated Christmas trees and nine large wall mounted plasma screens. Every weekend, I go to church and I watch the fancy worship choir and I see the powerpoint presentations and I listen to the pastor preach, but for me, it has become more like a religious circus than a house of worship.

I feel that we Christians could learn a great deal from our Jewish brothers and sisters. Adopting Judaism's practice of simplicity in our houses of worship and reverence for the word of God would be wonderful places to start.

....but more on that later, I've rambled on long enough for one evening.

Oh, and just in case some of you were wondering about Shari's husband. Well, the cancer was contained, the lymph nodes were clear and a positive prognosis was delivered.

That calls for cheers all around, don't you think?

Shari

Shari is the name of our children's elementary school crossing guard.

She's a nice lady and we all like her.

Monday morning, Shari confided to me that her husband had just had surgery for prostate cancer. I asked Shari if she and her husband had any support around them during this challenging time. For a brief moment she looked confused and then answered, "Well no, not really."

It turns out, Shari and her husband don't really have a significant network of family and friends available to them. They are doing life alone.

It's so hard to do life alone. The only thing harder, is watching someone else trying to do life alone.

This morning, after we had crossed our children to the safety of their school door, a neighbor friend and I gave Shari an encouragement card and a loaf of yummy Great Harvest Bread.

We told her that she was a part of our community, and that we care about her. We told her that she didn't have to do this alone, and that we would walk with her through this difficult time. We told her that we wanted to help, however and wherever she needed our assistance. We offered our phone numbers and our friendship.

Shari's response?

She cried.

I cried.

And then we hugged, not once but three times.

When I saw Shari this afternoon, we both smiled at one another and there was a new warmth between us that hinted at the beginning of a new friendship.

Tomorrow Shari takes her husband back to see his surgeon. At that time, they will hear the biopsy results and learn whether Shari's husband's cancer was contained in the prostate.

Dear friends, won't you join me in praying for Shari and her husband? Let's surround this couple with our prayers.

Shari and her husband may have been doing life alone before, but we can change all that. We can pray. We can pray that Shari receives good news on Thursday. We can pray for continued healing, for restored health; and we can pray that God will bring a plethora of caring, compassionate friends into Shari's life.

It might not seem like much, but we can pray. We can stand in the gap, that invisible sacred gap, and we can be the praying community that Shari and her husband both need.

I'm willing.

Are you?

Blah

collage in progress...

Today I found myself beseiged by the desire to stick my tongue out at the world.

...but I didn't.

I kept it all inside.

My tongue,

my anger,

my fatigue,

all of it.

I kept it all inside

and

now I feel as though I might explode.

Why was I such a pussy?

I should have just stuck out my tongue.

Outsiders

Several years ago, our church leadership asked those of us living in our church's neighborhood to share our insights about the needs that exist within our community. You see, not one of our pastors, or governing board members actually lives within close proximity to our church; but then that is not so surprising when you consider that the majority of individuals attending our church do not live in our neighborhood.

Why would this be, you ask?

I suppose one reason might be because we are an inner city neighborhood and life isn't always so pretty or easy here. We have neighbors who experience real hunger and aching want.

The bottom line is this. I don't think most of us ("us" meaning church folk like those who attend my church) want to get our hands or our lives dirty. We prefer a cleaner, more sanitized kind of life with white picket fences and manicured lawns. We prefer to talk about Jesus amongst ourselves more then we desire to actually do what Jesus told us to do.

..but I digress.

Three years ago, at our church leadership's behest, a small group of Christian folks who live in our neighborhood began to meet regularly. We prayed together, we read scripture together, we shared our lives and our stories....we began to explore what it means to be community and to really engage with what it means to be Christ for one another and for our neighbors. We also met regularly with church leadership to share both our insights and our hearts. Amazingly, church leadership was responsive.

Over time, things have changed. The group's composition has changed. Church leadership's involvement has changed. Things are, well, in a word, "different".

Last night our group held it's monthly meeting, and I began to sense that we've become a social club of sorts. Oh, we are still missional. We still care about our neighbors. We still pray together and we still say all the right words....but something has changed.

We are currently in the process of "defining" who we are as a group. Some individuals have suggested we need a "mission" statement. Our church leadership has suggested we need a mission statement. I'm not entirely sure why this is necessary, but hey, clarifying why we meet on a regular basis isn't such a bad thing, right?

As the evening's conversation opened, I listened to the voices around me, and as I watched individuals interact with one another, I stumbled upon the realization that I no longer "fit in" with this group of people. You see, the more each individual spoke, the more I realized that somewhere along the way, they had become a kind of extended family for one another, and for whatever reason(s), my husband and I had not been included.

We were on the outside looking in; and sadly, nobody issued any invitations for either of us to join the "inner circle".

When our time together ended, I left with the haunting feeling that not one of the persons present would care if I ever came back.

...and frankly, that bothers me.

Now I admit that I am not like the people in my church or in my neighborhood group. I'm not terribly social to begin with and sometimes it is just plain hard for me to relate to church folks. Most times, it is harder still for me to love them, but I try. I try because if I only love people who are like myself, than that love becomes something tiny, something limited. It becomes a kind of self-love versus a "god-love"and more than anything, I desire to love as God loves.

So what I find myself wondering, and what really bothers me about feeling like such an outsider is this.

I know that there are many people who are like me. People who feel like outsiders themselves. People who feel worthless, unlovable...alone.

If it is the church's heart, if it is this neighborhood group's heart, to reach out to those who are lost and to love the disenfranchised and to the heal the brokenness in our community, shouldn't we begin by loving, valuing and affirming the unique personhood of each person?

..and if I am not valued within this Christian neighborhood group, or within my church family, how then will someone like me feel valued and loved?

Worn and weary.

I feel like death warmed over.

No, I'm not sick.

I'm just stretched beyond my physical and emotional limits.

It's as if I am suddenly all bone.

My flesh has been worn away, torn away, it's gone.

... and all that's left is bone.

Turkeys, cysts and thanks giving

Lily D. Dog has an ouchie boo-boo!

Yesterday, we had to make a trip to the vet to have her sebaceous cysts excised.

Poor Lily, as you can see from the photo's below, she has a couple of really ugly ouchie boo-boos!



and..



The good news is that Lily has some great pills to numb her pain. She will be spending her turkey day a tad stoned out of her little doggie mind.

We, on the other hand are currently cooking pies and preparing the 21 pound turkey for roasting.

This year we are keeping things simple.

We are baking pumpkin and "mystery pecan" pies. Our turkey will be seasoned with a slightly salty, slightly sweet, Asian inspired marinade that we've made using orange zest, orange juice, tamari, rice wine vinegar, sesame oil, brown sugar, jalapeno pepper, green pepper, red pepper, onion, garlic and celery. We intend to place this mixture just under the skin and inside the turkey cavity. It should be quite tasty!

And of course we will also be serving all of the other traditional Thanksgiving trimmings....

Dishes like: green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, potato rolls, cranberry sauce, a gi-normous veggie tray with dip, stuffing and gravy.

This year, we've invited several other families to share our dinner.

It is my hope and my prayer that our table will be a place of peace and sustenance for all.

I wish you could all join us!

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Free Rice

FreeRice has provided a nifty little vocabulary challenge that will simultaneously stimulate your brain and feed a hungry person.

Go play! For every correct response you give, 10 grains of rice are donated to the United Nations to help end world hunger. 212, 660, 970 grains were donated yesterday!

This morning I was cruising along until I hit this word.....D-R-U-B!

Drub? What the heck does that mean? Well, it means: to beat, to thump, to defeat soundly.

Sigh....

I made it to level 43 and I raised just over 700 grains of rice.

What are you waiting for? You know you want to play~ hop on over to FreeRice!

Holiday Food

Jerri is a Gingerbread House

Jerri is a little spicy and a little sweet, anyone would like to be lost in the woods with her.

What Holiday Food Are You?

Yup, this is me alright!

LOLOLOL!

Spanish Spanish Love Song

Don't ask me why...

...but I thought this video was hilarious!

Sadness

The family we welcomed into our home just over a week ago has found temporary placement in a family shelter.

...and even though this shelter placement is a good thing, I am so sad to see them leave us.

Really sad.

Fanciful flora

Last week, I was walking down a street I've walked at least a hundred times when I saw these gorgeous blooms.

They were bright, and bold, and stunningly beautiful.

They were growing on a tree that I have failed to notice for the entire fifteen years I've lived in this neighborhood.

How could I have missed such incredible beauty?

What kind of person fails to see something so extraordinary?

What kind of person knows more about the characters on their favorite television show than they know about the fauna and flora that grace their immediate neighborhood?

Me apparently. People like me.

That's sad, don't you think?

I do.

Knowing

homeless

I have no way of knowing what it is like to be homeless.

I've never been without a home.

I've lived through the experience of being cast out, disowned, and shunned by my family of origin; and even though I know what it's like to be all alone in the world, I've never lacked a physical place to call my own.

When I look at the photo above, a simple black and white photo of some nameless, homeless person in New York City, I recognize myself. Not literally of course. I'm not literally that person, but I recognize the posture, the slouch, the bowed head.

I know the vertigo that comes with finding one's self completely dispossessed of all relationship, all love, all hope. I know what drives a full grown person to sit in a public space and lean their weary self against a wall. I know what it is to cry hot tears that sear and scorch but offer little healing....

I know...

I really know...

Oh, how I know....

....and for better or worse, it's this kind of "knowing" that makes me the person I am.

Only recently have I begun to understand that it is the experience of living through my own suffering that allows me to recognize, to empathize and to offer succour to others in their suffering.

Today, if only for this moment, I am grateful for what I have suffered and survived. It has made me a better person....a more compassionate and merciful person.

Thank you Father God for being greater than my own suffering and for redeeming what should have laid this soul to waste.

Thank you.

Bribery

I mentioned in yesterday's post that my husband and I have begun attending a Monday night Bible study.

As many of you know, we have five children in our family. Our oldest son and oldest daughter are frequently called upon to watch their younger siblings. In an effort to minimize calling upon the older children to kidsit, I have hatched an ingenious plan that inspires our younger children to behave peaceably on their own and with minimal supervision by their older siblings.

The plan is simple and it goes like this. Every Monday night we tell the children that we will pay each child $1 if they behave themselves the hour and a half that we are gone. If one child misbehaves, then the rest of the tribe gets to divide the naughty kid's dollar amongst themselves.

Yes, I am well aware that I am bribing my children to behave; but I say forget about all that! This system has worked remarkably well for the past six weeks. Remarkably well.

Ok, so here's where I get to tell a short story about our youngest daughter.....

Yesterday morning, my youngest daughter walks up to me with her six dollars in her hands and says, "Here Mommy, I want you to have half of my dollars, because you are such a good Mommy." And she promptly handed me three, crisp and shiny one dollar bills.

Can you believe that? My beautiful, seven year old daughter was sharing her wealth and affirming my value as her mother all at the same time.

Yeah, yeah, I know there's something a little twisted about a seven year old "paying" her mother for being such a good mommy; but look beneath the surface and see her heart....her sweet, generous, loving heart.

I was so touched that she was willing to put her money where her mouth is. I can only pray that she will live the entirety of her life that way.

The world would certainly be a better place if more of us were willing to live what we say....but then, that's fodder for a whole other blog post now, isn't it?

Bible Study

My husband and I recently began attending a new Bible study group.

I've written before about how I'm not a big fan of Bible studies. My experience has been that most groups use a canned study, and if everyone doesn't arrive at the same answers (which I rarely do), then the persons who deviate (this means me), are subtly (and sometimes overtly) shamed to conform with the group standard.

Suffice it to say, I've never been invited to the same Bible study twice, and would you believe that one group even changed their meeting time (without my knowledge) so I wouldn't be in attendance?

It saddens me to say this, but it doesn't seem to matter whether I am in church or in a Bible study, I experience the same pressure to think like everyone else, to behave like everyone else and if I fail to conform to everyone's expectations I risk being shamed and/or shunned.

In early October however, I tried again. A friend of mine had decided to organize a small group to study the word of God. She knew of my previous experiences and invited my husband and me to attend her group.

That was October 1st and we've been going ever since.

Our group calls itself, "The Red Letter Bible Study" because we are currently reading through the four gospels, paying especially close attention to the red letter words of Jesus. Back in October, we began with the book of Matthew and are just now moving into Chapter 6.

It's really incredible to meet with a small group of people who are so sweetly serious about their relationship with God. It's incredibly freeing to discuss scripture, to wrestle with its meaning, and to ponder its beauty minus the traditional formats and expectations most Bible study groups enforce.

I'm really grateful to God for bringing this group of people into my life. They are helping to heal me of the woundedness I have suffered at the hands of other religious people. They are like my very own balm of Gilead.

When I began typing this post, I had intended on sharing something my seven year old daughter had said to me this morning.

This came out instead.

Stay tuned, I'll share my youngest daughter story tomorrow!

Words

Here are some words I never thought I'd hear a child of mine utter:

"So, did you get the tickets for the gun show?"

Small Change Part 2

Last night, my husband drove our youngest daughter and our son's friend to the Dollar Tree store.

I'm not exactly sure why they needed to go, but go they did.

When they returned from their excursion, my husband reported that as soon as they walked through the Dollar Tree doors, our youngest daughter ran up to a snot covered Dollar Store patron and joyfully proclaimed, "I know you! How are you? My Mommy gave you money. I hoped it helped you."

The guy smiled through a streamer of snot and told our daughter he was fine and to please thank her mommy that she had given him some money.

If you read my blog with any regularity at all, you may remember that I recently wrote about giving a tired, snot covered panhandler a few bucks in change. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Now, I am even more convinced.

If I see him again, I plan to give him a clean, gently-used coat with a few bucks stuffed in the pockets. It's already resting expectantly in the back of our van.

I truly do hope that our paths cross again, I think this gentleman would make good use of new coat and few kind words.

************************
Oh, and just in case you were wondering what the guy was buying in the Dollar Tree...well, he was buying a box of kleenex. I kid you not. Kleenex. Imagine that.

Aromas

Today as I was loading up the washing machine, my son's friend (the one who's currently living with us), followed me into the studio and said, "Jerri, how come every room in your house smells so good?"

I laughed and said I thought he'd just hit us on a few good days.

"No," he replied, "I think your house would smell good just about any old day."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, but inside I was praying that any lovely smell emanating from our home was the aroma of Christ perfuming the air.

As much as I love my smelly tarts (aka: Yankee Candle Wax Popourri Tarts), as much as I love my smelly candles and incense, I much prefer the aroma of Christ.

Please God, if there is any lingering sweetness filling the rooms of our home, I pray it is the aroma of your son, my Lord, Jesus Christ.

Small Change

Two days ago, we were on our way home from the grocery store and we saw a panhandler standing on a corner. He was elderly. It was cold. He was dripping snot, and he looked frightful.

When I saw him standing there, I just couldn't help myself. I pulled over, rolled down the window, grabbed his cold dirty hands in mine and silently prayed. It only lasted a few seconds and then, to his great happiness I poured the quarters, dimes and nickles into his cupped hands.

As we drove away my youngest child murmured, "That poor, poor man."

My oldest child pondered, "I wonder what he'll do with all of that change?"

Without hesitating, I replied, "Well, maybe he'll buy beer; or who knows, maybe he'll buy a sandwich."

And then I surprised myself and I quoted from the Bible.

Me, quoting from the Bible?

Yes me; and let me just say, that this was nothing short minor miracle.

You see, I am hopeless at memorizing scripture. I can't remember more than four, maybe five verses and that's only if I'm having particularly good day. So, I was quite surprised to find these verses flowing over my tongue and out my lips:

Give beer to those who are perishing,
wine to those who are in anguish;

let them drink and forget their poverty
and remember their misery no more.

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves,
for the rights of all who are destitute.

Speak up and judge fairly;
defend the rights of the poor and needy.
~Proverbs 31:6-9

I don't know if that man bought a sandwich or a beer; but, I would have given him my change either way.

I suppose this makes me a lot of things to a lot of different people. Some might see me as weak. Others might see me as enabling. My own husband thinks me foolish.

All I know, is that in that moment, when I looked at that cold tired man, as I held his cold hands in mine, I saw myself kneeling at the foot of the cross because I saw Christ in that panhandler's wizened, snotty visage.

I can only hope, that in some small way, in some miraculous way, he saw Christ in me.

That's all that really matters....

...to me anyway.

(And perhaps to God as well.)

Blessed!

This afternoon a single father we know called to tell us that he and his teenage son are homeless and that the family shelters in our area are all full.

He wanted to know if his son could bunk in with our family while he stayed at the Union Gospel Mission.

My husband and I didn't hesitate to say yes. In fact, we offered a bed for the father as well.

This is a decent guy who doesn't drink or do drugs. He loves his son. He works hard when he can find employment. He's a good man who's fallen upon hard times.

It didn't seem right to split this family up, not when we have two perfectly good air mattresses available for them to use.

Our family lives modestly. Our house is neither large nor luxurious, but you know what?

What we do have seems to be more than enough for all of us.

I feel so very, very blessed this evening.

Zombie Bride

I am becoming emotionally undone by our church.

If I continue to attend, I fear that I will be doomed to emotional extinction.

You see for me, church has become a very unsafe place. I am no longer free to think, or to feel, or to be the person I know myself to be.

Without free will, without the freedom to express and to be the person God has made me to be, I am nothing more than an emotional and spiritual zombie.

Is this what Christ would have me be?

His zombie bride?

Deep in my heart, I know that God would not require this of me.

Why then, is my church?

Go ahead, laugh.

Today, I need to laugh.

Do you?

If so, click this sentence and read Real World Martha's Blog.

Her story is laugh out loud funny. Really. Click the link and read for yourself!

Ramel

It's no secret that criminality often runs in families and that criminal patterns of behavior are frequently passed down from generation to generation. It's also no secret that it is very difficult to break the chain, and that it is almost impossible for a child to do so.

This summer we learned of a young man who desired to attend a Young Life Summer Program in our community. He was from a well known drug family and yet, against all odds, he had made a decision for Christ. Against all odds, he wanted to break the chains, he wanted to grow and mature. He wanted a new life.

Of course, his family wasn't very supportive and although they had sufficient funds to pay the associated cost of attending the Young Life summer program, they refused to do so.

Several Christian families in our neighborhood bonded together to pool our resources and paid the $400 plus dollars for that young man to attend the Young Life Summer Camp.

Yesterday our family received a thank you note from the young man. Going to camp, he said, made last summer the best summer of his life.

I cried when I read his letter.

I cried because ours is a God whose love still penetrates the most hardened hearts among us, hearts like mine. I cried because God's love still reaches into the darkest of places to pull goodness and humanity into the light, like His love has done in my life. I cried because a young man's life was made better by a small group of people who cared enough to sacrifice a few bucks to benefit another. I cried because it was such a small sacrifice and yet God somehow used it in a powerful and life changing way.

Today I am praying for that young man. If you feel so inclined I invite you to pray as well. His name is Ramel. He is a beloved child of the most high God and in my book, he is a hero. He's a hero because he's daring to break the chains, he's daring to embrace the freedom that a new life in Christ offers to him.

Dear Ramel, although you most probably will never know this. I'm praying for you, I am so praying Ramel. God bless you.

Vertigo

Detroit Dam

Lately I feel as though I am suffering from some bizarre case of vertigo.

I'm dizzy. I'm off balance. I feel like I did when I stood on Detroit Dam and snapped the photos you see here today.

more dam

It would be so easy to lose my balance and fall off the face of my own life.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to simply surrender to the falling.

hot damna dam

Would I ever hit bottom? Would it hurt if I did?

last dam(n) picture

I'm really tired.

I just want the spinning to stop.

This vertigo scares me.

My girls

oldest daughter

Daughter updates....hmmmm.

Let's begin here.

Some of you have sent me e-mails expressing concern regarding our middle daughter's fall from her horse this past weekend. Middle daughter is fine. She banged up her elbow and had the wind knocked out of her; but other than that, no major injuries. At the time of her fall, she was able to brush herself off and finish her ride. Her elbow is still tender and bothers her some, but our pediatrician tells us that her discomfort will improve with every passing day.

Now, just in case some of you think that we are wealthy, horse breeding millionaires, you should probably know that every year, all year long, our middle daughter saves her pennies to attend one weekend at Canyonview Horse Camp. This year, she had the time of her life and thanks to being thrown from her mount, she has a few extra tall tales to tell as well!

Oldest daughter also had an exciting weekend. As some of you may recall, our oldest daughter entered a beauty pageant earlier this Fall, the culmination of which was lived out on stage October 14, 2007 in a five hour extravaganza of hot lights, taffeta, silk and lace.

I'm not sure what to say about the pageant.

I mean, do you really want to hear how most of the pageant girls rolled in Sunday afternoon armed with their zip strips and hot rollers and fancy make up mirrors? Oldest daughter and I practically howled with laughter as we pulled out our little sandwich bag sized Ziploc baggie of make-up and set it down next to the gi-normous tool boxes filled with more make-up than any one person could ever hope to find at their local Macy's cosmetic counter.

"We", I mean "she", didn't stand a chance.

(In other words, we (I mean "she") didn't win the coveted title, the scholarship money, or the all expense paid trip to nationals. Boo hoo.)

Believe it or not, I'm not a disgruntled pageant mom. Really, I'm not. Does it bother me that my precious baby didn't win? Yeah sure, it bothers me; but truth be told, the whole pageant "thing" bothers me a whole helluvalot more.

I mean, just answer me this.

How in the world does spending a crap load of money buying gowns, shoes, make up and miscellaneous grooming tools help shape a young woman's character? How does parading about in high heels and expensive dresses prepare a young woman for a successful career, or more importantly, for a meaningful life?

Sheesh, my world is spinning. I feel dizzy. There's just so much more I could say about the pageant; but I'm still in the throes of my pageant hangover, so I'm going to keep my big mouth shut.

And friends, that's what the whole pageant experience was like for this mother. It was like some long, looooong drawn out drunk fest. It was like walking through life stoned. It was like seeing the world reflected in fun house mirrors. It was, well, it was bizarre.

And that's all I'm going to say about that whole experience.

On a brighter note, today we are celebrating our youngest daughter's birthday. She turned seven on Sunday, but because we were at the pageant all weekend, we elected to celebrate today instead. I'm baking her a four layer funfetti cake and we are having her favorite meal for dinner. What might that dinner be? Well, are you ready for this? It's chicken and proscuitto tortellini with a roasted red pepper alfredo sauce.

How many seven year olds do you know who would request chicken and proscuitto tortellini with roasted red pepper alfredo sauce for their birthday dinner?

What can I say?

My girls are special!

Updates

funny face~courtesy of oldest daughter

Have any of you missed me while I've been away?

What can I say?

I've been busy this past week.

Our youngest daughter turned seven on Sunday.

Our middle daughter was thrown from a horse over the weekend.

Our oldest daughter competed in her first (and last) beauty pageant.

And me?

Well, I'm completely and utterly insane.

....but more on that later!

Stay tuned!

I'll reveal the details later on this week.

Dreams within dreams

Last night I had a dream and it went something like this...

In my dream, I was waking up and getting out of bed. As I glanced down to slip my socks on over my feet, I was completely and utterly amazed to find a swaddled baby staring up at me. I promptly lifted the baby up to my shoulder, and began patting and cooing to the infant.

Much to my surprise, the baby began to purr.

In the blink of an eye, the dream shifted and I awoke again to find Don Gato, the family cat, purring contentedly in my arms.

Only, I wasn't really awake. I was dreaming in a dream.

Moments later, when I was well and truly awake, I found myself completely captivated by the whole experience. I don't think I have ever dreamed a dream within a dream. Forget about the whole baby-at-my-feet-morphing-into-a-purring-cat thing, which was weird enough, I was dreaming within a dream.

It was such a beautiful experience. It really was.

You see, I am convinced that there really are realities within realities and dreams within dreams. I am convinced that this life has depth and layers that beg our exploration.

The sad thing is, I sometimes forget what I know to be true and I slip into a soul numbing way of living upon the surface of my own life.

Last night's dream within a dream was such a lovely and gentle reminder to live deep, and to love deeper still.

I would hate to become like some dreamer stuck sleepwalking through the entirety of their own life's story.

I couldn't bear that.

Could you?

Concentration

~taken prior to eldest daughter's race at Champoeg.

I think the title of this post says it all.

Don't you?

Stars

Our oldest daughter made the front cover of Youth Runner magazine!

Is that cool or what?

Click here to see the photo!

My daughter is the young woman in the middle of the bottom row.

She was 25th out of 130 female runners, over a brutal 5K run.

She had a blast and considers her mud stained shirt her favorite trophy of the season.

Man, I love that kid.

In my book, she's such a star!

Doorway to Peace

"Peace Door"

Here's a photo of the neighborhood "Peace Door".

There are a lot of things that I really like about this particular doorway.

I love the peace banner. I love the sage green of the door contrasted with the grey of the house; and I have to tell you, I also love those unexpected splashes of orange accent color. For me, everything blends together and creates a visual aesthetic that makes me smile inside.

You can't see, but there's also the sweetest cement Buddha sitting under the rain spout just to the left of the porch. I always smile at the Buddha whenever I walk by. I just can't help myself.

Buddha is so round bellied, so jovial, so approachable. It's easy to smile at the Buddha when I pass.

Surprisingly, Buddha stands in sharp contrast to how I view God.

....and sometimes, I find this oddly perplexing.

You see, I don't see God as a round bellied, sweetly smiling God. I see him as a whippet thin, frowning, and finger pointing God. Maybe God is all sweet and smiley with you, but when he turns to see me, all of that holy rage of His wells up and shoots like a thunderbolt towards my lower than snail slime self.

That's why I'm convinced that God sent Jesus just for me.

Jesus doesn't curl my toes with fear. I can relate to Jesus. He's just a guy, a normal, ordinary guy. I trust Jesus.

I don't quite understand how I can love Jesus and still fear God as I do. I mean Jesus is God, right? But you know what? Right now, I'm totally fine with marking this whole situation down as yet another cosmic mystery, a sacred paradox.

I don't feel a need to judge it, or explore it, or explain it. I just let it be, because for right now, it's ok if it's just Jesus and me.

Jesus doesn't mind if I smile at the Buddha. Jesus doesn't fret because I'm sometimes afraid of God. Jesus doesn't seem overly concerned by my snail slime lineage, because instead of shooting thunderbolts my way, Jesus extends his hand in friendship.

My Christian friends don't understand me when I speak this way. I've struggled against that alot because I want others to understand so that I can feel less alone in this spiritual journey.

Then I remember. It's ok if it's just Jesus and me. I remember that with Christ, I am understood; with Christ, I am never alone. The rest, whatever the "rest" is, will fall into place when it's time.

In this respect, I suppose Jesus is my very own doorway to Peace.

I don't know about you, but I think that's kind of cool.

Señor Don Gato

Señor Don Gato~Family Cat Extraordinaire!

Yesterday as we were walking home from school, my youngest daughter (age 6) stopped to pet the neighbor's cat.

As the cat yowled and rubbed up against her legs she asked, "So why does Rob's cat meow differently than Señor Don Gato?"

To which my youngest son (age 9) promptly replied, "Duuuh, Señor Don Gato meows with a Spanish accent that's why."

I laughed.

Did you?

Buggin!

Isn't this just the coolest spidey picture ever?

I was on my way to pick our two youngest children from school when I spied this spider high up in the tree branches. Thanks to the super zoom feature on our new digital camera, I was able to capture this shot.

Now I know that this isn't the greatest photo, but hot damn, it's got me buggin!

Some of you might be wondering what had me looking up into the tree tops in the first place.

Well......just take a gander at these gorgeous Fall colors.

Yes, I know I said that I'd be posting some photos of doorways this week, but hey, my bad.

What can I say? When I saw this gorgeous display, all of a sudden my doorway photos just sort of paled in comparison.

Oh, what the hell! Here's a picture of a hobbit door in my neighborhood.

....and no, we don't have any real hobbits residing nearby; but for some strange reason, we do have lots of curved doors, and curved windows.

Hmmmm, now that I think about it, the folks who currently live in this particular house are a bit on the shorter side. Do you suppose they could be hobbits in disguise?

Wouldn't that be something?

Doorways

"doorways"~a new photo collection by jerri

Maybe I'm strange, but I like doors...

I like what doors do.

I like what doors represent.

I like the infinite variety of doors.

I like to photograph doors.

Here is a photo of one doorway in my neighborhood.

I love this particular doorway. I love the plants. I love how the screen door is ajar. I love the mosaic tile numbers. I love that the house is green...for me, it all works together to create such an inviting picture.

Do you suppose that the people who live inside of this house are hospitable?

(I imagine them to be.)

What would this doorway say to us if it were able to speak? What kinds of stories might this door have to tell about the people who live inside, about the people who pass by, or about various and sundry individuals who stop by for a visit?

What secrets might this door be keeping in?

What dangers might this door be keeping out?

I can imagine all kinds of things.

Can you?

Yeah well, maybe doors don't do much for you? Maybe you are bored stiff right now?

If that's the case, you might not want to read my blog over the next few days because I'm going to throw up a few more doorway photos and musings over the next week.

I'll even post a photo of my own home's doorway. Wait until you see our doorway. It's a sadly funny kind of doorway....very metaphorical, very sweet...very Jerri.

Curious? Well then, stay tuned. There are more doorways to come!

What if....

What if Jesus showed up in church this Sunday and told our congregations that it is more important for us to care about one another than it is to worry about the three B's; that is to say, buildings, budgets, and butts in seats?

What if Jesus then went on to say that true worship of the Father occurs when people gather together to remember that their lives have meaning....and that there is more, so much more of God's life available to us than we ever dreamed possible?

What if Jesus gathered us so closely around himself that we could hear the beating of his heart and in that moment of sacred sharing , we heard Jesus whisper that his greatest desire was for us to love one another and to help one another as we go out and love the world?

What if Jesus went on to say that all of our wealth, our money, our homes, our boats/cars/whatever, are not our own? What if Jesus patiently explained to us how EVERYTHING belongs to God? What if Jesus were somehow able to impress upon each one of us that every breath we draw flows from the life and love of God Himself?

What if Jesus grabbed up the offering plates and threw them like frisbees onto our podiums and banished them from our churches, commanding us to share all of our resources with one another, to give to the poor, to live inter-dependently.

What if Jesus called for our children, all of our children, and what if Jesus stood before us all and instructed us to raise His children, as a community, as Christ's family, together.

Do you think your church would listen?

I'm not sure my church would listen....we certainly haven't listened very well thus far.

I wonder if we ever will?

Secrets

Want to hear a secret?

Sometimes I like to watch TLC's show, "A Baby Story".

My secret?

I cry everytime the baby is born.

Everytime.

Riverfest

This past weekend a festival of sorts was held in our neighborhood.

It was a city-wide event, organized by Reid Saunders and nearly 200 local area church leaders.

There was music, food, carnival games, arts and crafts, gi-normous inflatable playgrounds for tots, skateboard, BMX and freestyle motocross exhibits and athletes...in short, there was a little bit of something available for nearly every generation's entertainment.

It was quite the spectacle and best of all, it was free to the public.

Oh, but make no mistake, even though this "giant family block party" was absolutely free of charge, it still cost a cool $400,000 to organize, promote and execute.

So what was the point? Why Riverfest? Why spend in excess of $400,000 and countless hours organizing this two day event? I can answer those questions with two words.

Evangelism and entertainment.

I'm guessing there was a whole lot of fun to be had, fun that was age specific and culturally relevant. I'm guessing there was some good music to be heard and I'm guessing that there were more than a few folks who made decisions for Christ.

I say "I'm guessing", because I didn't go to Riverfest. Why?

I kept coming back to that $400,000. I kept thinking about how there are 650+ kids registered in our school district who don't have homes. Conservative estimates indicate that there are actually 900+ homeless children if you take into account those children too young to attend school, and those homeless teens who have already dropped out.

Organizers claimed that Riverfest was going to change lives.

I found myself wondering how? How were lives going to be changed? And what lives? Do you suppose any one of the 900+ homeless kids found a home because of Riverfest?

Ok, I'm not stupid. I get that we are talking eternal values here. I get that one person's decision for Christ causes all of the angels in heaven to celebrate with great joy. I get that. I really do.

I also get that this event was intended to evangelize, to bring people into relationship with Christ. I get that....but dang, doesn't anyone else get it?

It cost 400,000 dollars people! Riverfest cost $400,000.

Did Jesus command us to host community wide festivals in his name? Maybe I missed that part in the Bible?

Nearly every Christian I know has read Matthew 25. That's the part in the Bible where Jesus clearly instructs us to feed the hungry, to clothe the poor, to care for the sick, to visit the incarcerated and to house the homeless. We are instructed to have special concern for the orphans and the widows. We are to care for the "least of these", because they are Christ.

That $400,000 would have gone a long way in meeting those kinds of needs in my community; and who knows, a few souls might have been saved along the way too.

I don't know, it all seems upside down to me.

Yes, I know that Jesus commanded us to "go and make disciples of all the earth." I'm just not sure that a $400,000 fun fest was what Christ had in mind. Especially in a community where more than 50% of that community's children live in poverty.

Ok, just so you hear me, I'm going to say this as loudly, as clearly, and as succinctly as I am able.

I'm tired of events, and churches, and pastors, and fellow Christians, who seem more interested in talking about Jesus than they are in actually doing what Jesus told us to do.

We could talk all day, every day about what a great guy Jesus was; but if we don't do what Christ asked us to do......well, what's the point?

Riverfest seemed just a tad self-serving to me, like it was just one more fun event for Christians and possibly their outchurched/unchurched family and friends to attend.

It's so much dirtier, so much more heartbreaking to meet Christ in the faces of hungry children, meth addicts, and the mentally ill.

Oh, I know that for some of you out there in cyber-land, I'm preaching to the choir and the rest of you either don't give a damn or think I'm whack anyway. So, before I completely lose myself in a good rant and begin foaming at the keyboard, I'm going to just stop typing and push the little orange "publish post" button.

There, mission accomplished.

Life is messy...redux.

Yesterday I wrote that my life is messy.

If you could see my insides, the real me, you would know that I am a selfish, hurtful, frightened person. You would also know that I am compassionate, giving and when the need arises I can be quite fierce, brave even. If you looked inside me, you would see both my capacity to sin and my capacity to love, to forgive, to be holy as God is holy,

All I want is a church where it is safe to be who I am. A place to be authentic. A place that makes room for people like me, the outcast with an unlovely and broken soul.

The closest place I've come to experiencing "authentic church" is an AA meeting. After over a decade of sobriety, I still go to meetings. There's one in particular that I love to attend. It's a women's group. The women there are real. They are honest about who they are and they embrace the real Jerri, and I feel safe. For me, it's a holy place, but it's also a messy place. Oh, make no mistake, it's a messy messy place filled with tears, and groans, and laughter and swearing...but it's holy because it's a God-filled place.

This group has recently seen an influx of desperate mothers. Young women with young children who crave sobriety and community. Young women who lack resources, who don't have baby sitters and yet, they need meetings. They need recovery and they've heard about our meeting and they are coming.

They are coming because they've heard ours is a group that practices good recovery, where the group members work the program and love one another. Oh, if only you could see them. If only you could see the hunger in their eyes....they are so very, very hungry for new life. A life free from the brokenness of addiction. And so they come, and they bring their children with them.

The children's presence has created a small division within the veteran group members. Some can't stand having the distraction of children present in the meetings. Some think it's inappropriate. Some have mixed feelings and others, like myself, believe those kids deserve a sober mother. Some, like myself, praise God that so many women even want to get sober in the first place.

Next week, after our Monday night meeting, we will convene our monthly business meeting, where we will read the 12 traditions of AA. And we will pay especially close attention to the second tradition, which reads: For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority - a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.

We will open the meeting up for discussion, and we will determine our group conscience regarding the presence of children at our weekly meetings. It won't be easy. It will be messy. People will disagree, it's possible some feelings may be hurt. Our discussion may become heated; but by the end of the evening, a group conscience will be reached. It may not be the outcome I desire, or it may be, who knows?

The point is, we are each willing to admit that we don't have control. We are each willing to release that control into the hands of God. We are each willing to trust the Holy Spirit to move our group to a consensus that's pleasing to God, that honors Him, so that we can continue to create a holy space for healing and hope.

This is the kind of church I crave, but haven't really found.

I'm just like those newly sober women in my AA group with their hungry eyes. My eyes are hungry too. Hungry for a place to worship God, to explore this new life in Him, hungry for community and caring.

You see, people in recovery have figured something out that those of us in church would do well to either learn or rediscover in ourselves. People in recovery know that you can't do recovery alone. You need others to heal, to hold you accountable, to guide you along the way. Being a christian is the same. You can't be a christian alone either. We need each other.

That's why I hunger so for a real church, with real people, complete will all of this life's messiness.

And the crazy thing is, I trust God is at work. I trust that there is a purpose to all that I am feeling and experiencing regarding my spiritual and religious journey. Knowing this, trusting as I do, sometimes makes the living part easier, sometimes it doesn't. It's a mixed bag and it's messy.

Life is just plain messy. No matter how hard you trust. No matter how hard you believe. No matter what, life is messy.

And that's all I'm left with again today. It sucks sometimes, doesn't it?

My messy life.

My life is messy.

There's no other way to say it.

My relationships are messy. My house is messy. Often times my heart is messier still.

I suppose that is why I long for a community of messy people.

I suppose that is why I long for a church that reflects the messy realities of daily life.

I want to go to church on Sunday and hear snoring babies. I want to see toddlers crawling under pews as they chase after their errant crayons/cheerios/you-fill-in-the-blank. I want to see pre-schoolers drawing all over the sermon notes tablets and I want to smile inside as I watch them reading their pew bibles upside down.

I want to see those elementary age children talking, squirming around, restless to play and vibrantly alive. I want to see the tweenies with their fresh, oft times anxious faces. I want to see the teens and the young adults.

I want to see young families and old families and older adults.

I want to see black faces, brown faces and all the colors in between.

I would like for my church to be the kind of church that even welcomes our four legged companions. Yeah, you read that right. I would like for my church to be a dog church. After all, I'm convinced that my dog loves better than most people. Dogs in general love better, and forgive faster. We could learn alot from our dogs in church.

And if a baby cries during a service, is that such a crime?

If a toddler dances down the aisles during worship, what is the harm?

Would it be so wrong for someone to wail with grief, or shout for joy?

What I really want is a place to be real.

I need a place where it is safe for me to admit that I often don't enjoy reading my bible, and to confess that much of it bores me to tears. I need a place and the ears to hear the questions I have about the parts of the Bible that I do actually read. I need for someone to care that I am so fearful inside. I need for someone to murmur knowingly when I express my doubt that God loves me, that He cares, that He is near.

I need a community of people who are willing to embrace me in all my messiness, who are capable of seeing the real me in the midst of this life's chaos.

And I want to see others in their realness too. I want the masks to slip away. I want for us to be vulnerable and transparent to one another.

I want us to risk making mistakes, and to forgive quickly when we do.

I want to see Jesus shining in another person's eyes because they see Christ shining in mine.

Is that really asking too much?

Is it?

I wish to goodness that it weren't.