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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.